the climate; he was attacked by a cruel disease, which terminated his
existence a few days after his departure from the island of St. Louis. Such
men ought to be imperishable[50].

The English physicians finding that the health of Mr. Corréard far from
improving, seemed on the contrary, to decline more and more, persuaded him
to return to France. These gentlemen gave him a certificate of such a
nature, that the French governor could not object to his departure; he
received his request perfectly well, and two days after his passage was
secured; but we shall see in the sequel what was the motive of this
favorable attention to his request.

On the 28th of November, in the morning, he embarked on board of a coasting
vessel, which conveyed him first on board the _Loire_, which was bound for
France: he was no sooner embarked, than the fever seized him, as it did
almost every day; he was in a dreadful situation, weakened by five months'
illness, consumed by a burning fever, added to the heat of the noon-day
sun, which struck perpendicularly on his head; he thought he was going to
die; he had, besides, painful vomitings, produced by the heat, and by an
indisposition caused by the fish on which he had breakfasted before his
departure. The little vessel crossed the bar; but it falling a dead calm,
it could not proceed: they perceived this on board the _Loire_, and
immediately dispatched a large boat to fetch the passengers out of the heat
of the sun. While this boat was coming, Mr. Corréard fell asleep upon a
coil of cables that were on the deck of the little vessel; but before he
fell quite asleep, he heard some one say, "_There's one who will never get
to France_." The boat came in less than a quarter of an hour; all those who
were about my sick friend, embarked on board the boat, without any one's
having the generosity to awaken him; they left him asleep, exposed to the
beams of the sun; he passed five hours in this situation, after the