miserable days were passed within that lonely tower. Amyas,
utterly unnerved by the horror of his misfortune, and by the
over-excitement of the last few weeks, was incessantly delirious; while
Cary, and Brimblecombe, and the men nursed him by turns, as sailors
and wives only can nurse; and listened with awe to his piteous
self-reproaches and entreaties to Heaven to remove that woe, which,
as he shrieked again and again, was a just judgment on him for his
wilfulness and ferocity. The surgeon talked, of course, learnedly about
melancholic humors, and his liver's being "adust by the over-pungency
of the animal spirits," and then fell back on the universal panacea of
blood-letting, which he effected with fear and trembling during a short
interval of prostration; encouraged by which he attempted to administer
a large bolus of aloes, was knocked down for his pains, and then thought
it better to leave Nature to her own work. In the meanwhile, Cary had
sent off one of the island skiffs to Clovelly, with letters to his
father, and to Mrs. Leigh, entreating the latter to come off to the
island: but the heavy westerly winds made that as impossible as it was
to move Amyas on board, and the men had to do their best, and did it
well enough.

On the fourth day his raving ceased: but he was still too weak to be
moved. Toward noon, however, he called for food, ate a little, and
seemed revived.

"Will," he said, after awhile, "this room is as stifling as it is dark.
I feel as if I should be a sound man once more if I could but get one
snuff of the sea-breeze."

The surgeon shook his head at the notion of moving him: but Amyas was
peremptory.

"I am captain still, Tom Surgeon, and will sail for the Indies, if I
choose. Will Cary, Jack Brimblecombe, will you obey a blind general?"

"What you will in reason," said they both at once.

"Then lead me out, my masters, and over the down to the south end.
To the point at the south end I must go; there is no other place will
suit."

And he rose firmly to his feet, and held out his hands for theirs.

"Let him have his humor," whispered Cary. "It may be the working off of
his madness."

"This sudden strength is a note of fresh fever, Mr. Lieutenant,"
said the surgeon, "and the rules of the art prescribe rather a fresh
blood-letting."

Amyas overheard the last word, and broke out:

"Thou pig-sticking Philistine, wilt thou make sport with blind Samson?
Come near me to let blood from my