apes, that they
often hear scampering up and down the cabin-stair, dashing their uncouth
bodies against the closed door.

The Chilian has now quite surrendered to despair; while Don Gregorio,
who had also lost hope of help from man, still has faith in Heaven.
Hence the prayerful appeal; which with unabated fervour he once more
sends up:--

"_Virgen Santissima_! Mother of God, have mercy!"

All at once Lantanas, catching the words, and raising his head, cries
out:

"Virgin! Hach! There's no virgin!--No mother of God, nor God neither!"

"Captain Lantanas!"

"Don't captain me! I'm not a captain. I'm a poor miserable creature--
starving with hunger--dying of thirst. Merciful Virgin, indeed!
Where's her mercy? If she has it, let her show. Let her find me food
and drink. Cakes and fruit there! Nothing of the sort. Stones,
painted stones! And those other things! Bottles they call them--
bottles and decanters. All a deception. They're imps--some demigods!
See how they dance. Let's join them! Come, old Zanzibar! Bring your
fiddle! And my Bornean beauties, come you. We'll have a grand
_fandango_. We'll make a dancing room of the _Condor's_ deck, and kick
up our heels high as the cuddy head. That's the way we'll do it. Ha--
ha--ha! Ha--ha--ha!"

"O God!" groans Don Gregorio, "Lantanas has lost his reason!"

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.

HELP FROM HEAVEN.

For long, the Chilian skipper continues to rave, rolling his eyes about,
now and then glaring fiercely at Don Gregorio, as though he wished to
stretch across the table and tear him. Fortunate he is confined now.

At first the ex-haciendado spoke kindly, endeavouring to soothe him; but
seeing it idle, he has ceased; and now makes no further attempt.

To converse with him would be only painful, and indeed the sight is
sufficiently so, suggesting to Don Gregorio what may be his own fate.
At times he almost fancies himself the same, as sweeps through his soul
the thought of his accumulated calamities.

He wishes that death would relieve him, and has prayed for it more than
once. He prays for it again, silently, with his eyes resting on the
sea. He awaits the final hour, longing for it to come, his features set
in calm, Christian resignation.

Suddenly their expression changes, a ray of renewed hope shooting
athwart his face. Not a ray, but a beam, which spreads over his whole
countenance, while his eyes kindle into cheerfulness, and his lips