In spite of his fatigue the captain remained on deck, swearing fearfully at his ill-luck. Those who had been away with the boats were allowed to turn in, but the rest of us were kept on deck, for at any moment all our strength might be required.
Suddenly, while I was aft, the captain uttered a loud cry, or shriek it seemed to me.
“What’s the matter, sir?” asked the mate.
“I cannot see!” groaned the captain. “Where am I? What has happened?”
The mate went to him and took his arm. “It may be but for a moment,” he said.
There had been no lightning; nothing, as far as we could discover, to produce blindness. Still the captain refused to leave the deck, declaring that it would pass over. The doctor, who had turned in, was called up, and came to him.
The increasing gale compelled the mate to attend to the duties of the ship. The doctor summoned me to assist in leading the captain below. I took his arm; he was trembling like an aspen. We led him to his berth, and assisted him to undress.
“Shall I be better in the morning, think you, doctor?” he asked, in an agitated tone.
“I cannot say, Captain Hawkins. I believe that this blindness has come on in consequence of your having overtaxed your physical powers. In course of time, with rest and a warmer climate, I trust that you will recover your sight.”
“Oh that it may be so!” cried the captain, as he laid his head on the pillow.