Now, I do not pretend to account for his remarkable swoon; but his
reason for suffering himself to be thus removed from the Calabooza
was strongly suspected to be nothing more than a desire to insure
more regularity in his dinner-hour; hoping that the benevolent native
to whom he was going would set a good table.

The next morning, we were all envying his fortune; when, of a sudden,
he bolted in upon us, looking decidedly out of humour.

"Hang it!" he cried; "I'm worse off than ever; let me have some
breakfast!" We lowered our slender bag of ship-stores from a rafter,
and handed him a biscuit. While this was being munched, he went on
and told us his story.

"After leaving here, they trotted me back into a valley, and left me
in a hut, where an old woman lived by herself. This must be the
nurse, thought I; and so I asked her to kill a pig, and bake it; for
I felt my appetite returning. 'Ha! Hal--oee mattee--mattee
nuee'--(no, no; you too sick). 'The devil mattee ye,' said I--'give me
something to eat!' But nothing could be had. Night coming on, I had
to stay. Creeping into a corner, I tried to sleep; but it was to no
purpose;--the old crone must have had the quinsy, or something else;
and she kept up such a wheezing and choking that at last I sprang up,
and groped after her; but she hobbled away like a goblin; and that was
the last of her. As soon as the sun rose, I made the best of my way
back; and here I am." He never left us more, nor ever had a second
fit.