“A lady,” said I, shortly.
“So! and monstrous rich, by our lady! Comrade,” said he, “I helped carry her box on board. Do you take me for a fool? There is something weighs more in that than a maiden’s frocks—eh, my friend?”
“You are a fool,” said I.
“A fool? Ha! ha! ’Tis well. And I am fool enough to— you be her man, they say? and an honest fellow? Ha! ha!”
“Ay, ay,” said I, drowsily enough, “let me go to sleep.”
“Ay, ay,” said he, “even if it be silver pieces and not gold, ’twill be enough to make men of thee and me. Dost hear, sluggard? Thee and me, and no more planks and ropes, and—”
I had ceased to hear his maunderings, and was sound asleep.
When I awoke, it was to hear the thundering crash of a wave on the deck overhead, and I knew we were at last on the open sea. Alas! when I turned over to recover my sleep, I fell into so horrible a fit of shuddering and sickness that I believed the hour of my departure was come. The ship rolled heavily through the uneasy water, and at every lurch my heart sunk—I know not whither. I could hear the shuffling of steps overhead, and the dash of the waves against the ship’s side, and the voice of the sailors at their posts. Little recked they of the comrade who was dying below!
Presently a call came for the new watch to turn up on deck. I was helpless to obey, and lay groaning there, not caring if the next lurch took us down to the bottom. At last, after much shouting, the captain himself came down and shook me roughly.
“Leave me,” said I, “to die in peace.”