another, but I'm hale and hearty in
constitution as yet, and my time is not yet come."

"It was the iron railings which you fell over, was it not? I fell over
them myself the same night when I landed, on the Monday, going up to old
Nanny's."

"Who told you it was those cursed spikes? Well, well, so it was; but not
on the Monday, Jack, it was on the Wednesday."

"Nay, that cannot be; for on the Tuesday, as I went down to the beach, I
saw them all fixed up in the stonework, and soldered in. It must have
been on the Monday--the night on which old Nanny was nearly smothered by
some one who went in to rob her. I came there just in time to save her
life; indeed, if you recollect, you were lame the next day, when I met
you in the hospital."

"Well, Jack, you may think what you please; but I tell you it was on the
Wednesday."

"Then you must have fallen over something else."

"Perhaps I did."

"Well, it's of no consequence. I'm glad to find that you're so much
better, for I was told that the doctor had said--"

"What did the doctor say?" interrupted Spicer.

"Why, it's better to tell the truth; he said it was impossible for you
to get over it; that the inflammation was too great to allow of
amputation now, and that it must end in mortification."

"He said that!" said Spicer, wildly, raising himself on his elbow.

"Yes, he did; and it's known all over the hospital."

"Well," replied Spicer, "he may have said so; but I think I ought to
know best how I feel. He'll be here in half an hour or so, and then I'll
put the question to him. I'm a little tired, Jack, so don't speak to me
any more just now."

"Shall I go away, Spicer?"

"No, no, stay here. There's a book or two; read them till I feel a
little stronger."

That my communication had had an effect upon Spicer was evident. He was
startled at the idea of the near approach of death, which he had not
contemplated. Alas! who is not? He shut his eyes, and I watched him; the
perspiration trickled down his forehead. I took up the book he had
pointed out to me; it was the History of the Buccaneers, with plates,
and I thought then that it was a parallel of Spicer's own career. I
looked at the plates, for I was not much inclined to read. In a few
minutes Spicer opened his eyes. "I am better now, Jack; the faintness
has passed away. What book is that? Oh, the Buccaneers. That and
Dampier's Voyages were the only two books of my father's library that I
ever thought worth