"I suppose you think it's all right now, Doctor?" he said, as we
sat together after dinner.

"I hope so," I answered.

"We mustn't be too sure--and yet no doubt you are right. We'll all
be in the arms of our own true loves before long, lad, won't we?
But we mustn't be too sure--we mustn't be too sure."

He sat silent a little, swinging his leg thoughtfully backwards and
forwards. "Look here," he continued; "it's a dangerous place this,
even at its best--a treacherous, dangerous place. I have known
men cut off very suddenly in a land like this. A slip would do it
sometimes--a single slip, and down you go through a crack, and only
a bubble on the green water to show where it was that you sank.
It's a queer thing," he continued with a nervous laugh, "but all
the years I've been in this country I never once thought of making
a will--not that I have anything to leave in particular, but still
when a man is exposed to danger he should have everything arranged
and ready--don't you think so?"

"Certainly," I answered, wondering what on earth he was driving at.

"He feels better for knowing it's all settled," he went on. "Now
if anything should ever befall me, I hope that you will look after
things for me. There is very little in the cabin, but such as it
is I should like it to be sold, and the money divided in the same
proportion as the oil-money among the crew. The chronometer I wish
you to keep yourself as some slight remembrance of our voyage. Of
course all this is a mere precaution, but I thought I would take