words of William Bludger. "Why, you must be mad; they are more likely to
fall down and worship us,--_me_ at any rate."

"No, Capt'n," replied William; "that's your mistake. They say we're both
Catharmata; that's what they call us; and you're no better than me."

"And what are Catharmata?" I inquired, remembering that this word, or
something like it, had been constantly used by the natives in my hearing.

"Well, Capt'n, it means, first and foremost, just the off-scourings of
creation, the very dust and sweepings of the shop," answered Bludger, who
had somehow regained his confidence. To have a fellow-sufferer, and to
see the pallor which, doubtless, overspread my features, was a source of
comfort to this hardened man. At the same time I confess that, if
William Bludger alone had been destined to suffer, I could have
contemplated the decree with Christian resignation.

"I speak the beggars' patter pretty well now," Bludger went on; "and I
see Catharmata means more than just mere dirt. It means two unlucky
devils."

"William?" I exclaimed.

"It means, saving your presence, two poor coves, as has no luck, like you
and me, and that can be got rid of once a year, at an entertainment they
call the Thargeelyah, I dunno why, a kind o' friendly lead. They choose
fellows as either behaves ill, or has no friends to make a fuss about
them, and they gives them three dozen, or more, and takes them down to
the beach, and burns them alive over a slow fire. And then they toss the
ashes out to sea, and think all the bad luck goes away with the tide. Oh,