jib-boom when she struck! By the way, John, wasn't there another
with us? Now I come to think of it, there must have been another.
What became of him? Did he jump too, John?"

John found speech at last. "No; I don't think he jumped." The words
came hoarsely and with difficulty. I looked at him; cold and
shivering as he was, the sweat was streaming down his face.

"No? I wonder why."

No answer.

"You're quite sure about it, John? Because, you know, it would be a
thousand pities if he were thrown up on this desolate shore without
seeing the faces of his old friends. So I hope you are quite sure,
John; think again."

"He didn't jump."

"No?"

"He fell."

"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" The words came in the softest, sweetest
tones of pity. "I suppose there is no mistake about his melancholy
end?"

"I saw him fall. He just let go and fell; it's Bible oath, Captain--
it's Bible oath. That's how it happened; he just--let go--and fell.
I saw it with my very eyes, and--Captain, it was your knife."