“Fielding, will ye sing?”
I went back wondering, and asked him what he said.
“Will ye sing?” he exclaimed.
I supposed this a part of his sad, dying nonsense, yet, to humor him, answered:
“I will sing for you, captain.”
“Sing me ‘Tom Bowling,’” said he.
I sat down, and Galloon laid his head on my knee. My voice was broken, but I strove to put a cheerfulness into it, and sang the opening verse of “Tom Bowling.” He lay quiet while I sang. When I came to the end of the verse, he looked at me and, when I paused, believing he had had enough, he sang the closing lines in a feeble voice:
“Faithful below he did his duty,
And now he’s gone aloft.”
When he ceased, his eyes were full of tears. He put out his hand, and I took it, myself weeping, for the sight of his tears had unmanned me. I felt a gentle pressure. He then turned his face to the ship’s side, and after I had watched by him for about five minutes, during which he breathed quietly but spoke not, I passed out and went on deck.
Whether Greaves feared death or not I don’t know. I will not, however, believe he thought he was dying. Frequently will a man tell you that he is dying when his belief is the other way. His fears betray the secret of his hopes.