ngered at his fellows for
not supporting him and venting his anger with every stroke. From the
veranda Sheldon egged him on to strike with strength, till the two triced
savages screamed and howled while the blood oozed down their backs. The
lesson was being well written in red.

When the last of the gang, including the two howling culprits, had passed
out through the compound gate, Sheldon sank down half-fainting on his
couch.

"You're a sick man," he groaned. "A sick man."

"But you can sleep at ease to-night," he added, half an hour later.

CHAPTER III--THE JESSIE

Two days passed, and Sheldon felt that he could not grow any weaker and
live, much less make his four daily rounds of the hospital. The deaths
were averaging four a day, and there were more new cases than recoveries.
The blacks were in a funk. Each one, when taken sick, seemed to make
every effort to die. Once down on their backs they lacked the grit to
make a struggle. They believed they were going to die, and they did
their best to vindicate that belief. Even those that were well were sure
that it was only a mater of days when the sickness would catch them and
carry them off. And yet, believing this with absolute conviction, they
somehow lacked the nerve to rush the frail wraith of a man with the white
skin and escape from the charnel house by the whale-boats. They chose
the lingering death they were sure awaited them, rather than the
immediate death they were very sure would pounce upon them if they went
up against the master. That he never slept, they knew. That he could
not be conjured to death, they were equally sure--they had tried it. And
even the sickness that was sweeping them off could not kill him.

With the whipping in the compound, discipline had improved. They cringed
under the iron hand of the white man. They gave their scowls or
malignant looks with averted faces or when his back was turned. They
saved their mutterings for the barracks at night, where he could not
hear. And there were no more runaways and no more night-prowlers on the
veranda.

Dawn of the third day after the whipping brought the _Jessie's_ white
sails in sight. Eight miles away, it was not till two in the afternoon
that the light air-fans enabled her to drop anchor a quarter of a mile
off the shore. The sight of her gave Sheldon fresh courage, and the
tedious hours of waiting did not irk him. He gave his orders to the boss-
boys and made