eft to himself, he stared about him for some
time, regardless of our interest in his movements, and then, leaning
heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there so long that we
thought he must have fallen asleep.

"He's half-dead now!" whispered Roberts.

"Hush!" said Bill, "mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, and can't
quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now."

He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, returned to
the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained untouched,
and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied that he saw the
fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's bunk, and when
morning came still lay there.

Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, pushed
forward by the others, approached him with some food. He motioned, it
away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for water, drank it
eagerly.

For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always open, the
stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning Bill, who had
conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water occasionally, called
softly to us.

"Come and look at him," said he. "What's the matter with him?"

"He's dying!" said the cook, with a shudder.

"He can't be going to die yet!" said Bill, blankly.

As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more life-like, and
he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to face he gazed in
mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly with his fist, uttered
two words.

We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, and again
touched his chest.

"It's his name," said the cook, and we all repeated them.

He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his energies, held
up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he lowered it, and held
up all four fingers, doubled.

"Come away," quavered the cook; "he's putting a spell on us."

We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the motions.
Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards him.

"He means his wife and younkers!" he shouted eagerly. "This ain't no Jem
Dadd!"

It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and
strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business,
nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the
floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set his lips tog