“Now if I don’t get the fever,” he said aloud, and at the same moment resolved to go to taking quinine as soon as he was strong enough to dare.

He crawled out on the veranda.  The rain had ceased, but the wind, which had dwindled to a half-gale, was increasing.  A big sea had sprung up, and the mile-long breakers, curling up to the over-fall two hundred yards from shore, were crashing on the beach.  The Jessie was plunging madly to two anchors, and every second or third sea broke clear over her bow.  Two flags were stiffly undulating from the halyards like squares of flexible sheet-iron.  One was blue, the other red.  He knew their meaning in the Berande private code—­“What are your instructions?  Shall I attempt to land boat?” Tacked on the wall, between the signal locker and the billiard rules, was the code itself, by which he verified the signal before making answer.  On the flagstaff gaff a boy hoisted a white flag over a red, which stood for—­“Run to Neal Island for shelter.”

That Captain Oleson had been expecting this signal was apparent by the celerity with which the shackles were knocked out of both anchor-chains.  He slipped his anchors, leaving them buoyed to be picked up in better weather.  The Jessie swung off under her full staysail, then the foresail, double-reefed, was run up.  She was away like a racehorse, clearing Balesuna Shoal with half a cable-length to spare.  Just before she rounded the point she was swallowed up in a terrific squall that far out-blew the first.

All that night, while squall after squall smote Berande, uprooting trees, overthrowing copra-sheds, and rocking the house on its tall piles, Sheldon slept.  He was unaware of the commotion.  He never wakened.  Nor did he change his position or dream.  He awoke, a new man.  Furthermore, he was hungry.  It was over a week since food had passed his lips.  He drank a glass of condensed cream, thinned with water, and by ten o’clock he dared to take a cup of beef-tea.  He was cheered, also, by the situation in the hospital.  Despite the storm there had been but one death, and there was only one fresh case, while half a dozen boys crawled weakly away to the barracks.  He wondered if it was the wind that was blowing the disease away and cleansing the pestilential land.

By eleven a messenger arrived from Balesuna village, dispatched by Seelee.  The Jessie had gone ashore half-way between the village and Neal Island.  It was not till nightfall that two of the crew arrived, reporting the drowning of Captain Oleson and of the one remaining boy.  As for the Jessie, from what they told him Sheldon could not but conclude that she was a total loss.  Further to hearten him, he was taken by a shivering fit.  In half an hour he was burning up.  And he knew that at least another day must pass before he could undertake even the smallest dose of quinine.  He crawled under a heap of blankets, and a little