, and he looked as if twenty years had been
added to his life in one short night.

And he had cause for alarm; the yellow fever had fastened upon him with
a vice-like grasp, and he felt it in his inmost soul. The man was a
coward, after all. He thought himself secure from the scourge, and put
on a mask of defiance. He now knew that he had deceived himself, and all
his daring vanished. HE WAS AFRAID OF DEATH; AND THE DREADFUL CONVICTION
WAS FORCED UPON HIM THAT HIS DYING HOUR WAS AT HAND.

In tremulous accents, Gaskell described the symptoms of the disease. The
shooting pains in his head, neck, and shoulders were insufferable, and
he entreated me to do something, any thing, to relieve the pain, and
restore him to health. He urged me to bleed him, which I undertook,
and opened a vein in each arm, but the blood would not flow; the vital
current seemed to be congealed by fear. He then begged me to bathe his
back with camphor and opodeldoc, and although I knew the operation would
produce no effect, I consented to his wishes, and for more than an hour
rubbed his back as he desired, and bathed his head with vinegar and lime
juice.

But the disease could not be removed. It seized upon his vitals, and he
rapidly grew worse. His pains were great, but his mental agonies were
greater. For worlds I would not suffer what that man suffered while
rushing into the fearful embraces of death. His mind was clear and
unclouded, while madness would have been mercy. His life had been loose
and depraved. He had been guilty of many crimes, and in the day of death
the stings of conscience pierced him to the soul. His evil deeds came
back to him in that hour; they were stamped on his heart as with a
red-hot iron. I tried to console him, but in vain. He would not listen
when I spoke of death, and fiercely motioned me away when I attempted to
read aloud a chapter from the Bible. He said but little; but what he
did say were words of bitterness and despair. He declared, with an awful
oath, that he would not die, and struggled fiercely for life to
the last. I never shall forget the wild and ghastly countenance and
distorted features of that dying man, who, only a few days before, while
in the full flush of health, declared, with a diabolical grin, that he
feared neither God nor man.

The fever had now run its race, but our ship's company was greatly
reduced in number and in strength. The captain and three of the seamen
had been committed to the wa