could not speak. He seemed in the utmost alarm, his face quite ashen
with terror.

"What is the matter, William Bludger?" I asked; "have you had a Call, or
why do you thrust yourself on me?"

"Have _you_ sich a thing as a chaw about ye?" he asked in tremulous
accents. "I'm _that_ done; never a drop has passed my lips for three
days, strike me dead; and I'd give anything for a chaw o' tobacco. A sup
of drink you have _not_ got, Capt'n Hymn-book, axing your pardon for the
liberty?"

"William," I said, "even in this benighted island, you set a pitiful
example. You have been drinking, sir; you are reaping what you have
sown; and only temperance, strict, undeviating total abstinence rather,
can restore your health."

"So help me!" cried the wretched man, "except a drop of Pramneian {76} I
took, the morning I cut and run,--and that was three days ago,--nothing
stronger than castor-oil berries have crossed my lips. It ain't that,
sir; it ain't the drink. It's--it's the Thargeelyah. Next week, sir,
they are going to roast us--you and me--flog us first, and roast us
after. Oh Lord! Oh Lord!"



VII. FLIGHT.


"Flog us first, and roast us afterwards." I repeated mechanically the