“I couldn’t help thinking that too,” I interrupted.

“O! no,” they said, “but he’s a bit mad, too.  That’s his trouble.  He’s got a personal, as well as an abstract, grudge against the British Government.”

“Treasure?” I laughed.

“How did you know?” they asked.

“Never mind; I somehow got the idea.”

“And he thinks that by championing the nigger he can kill two birds, see?”

“I see,” I said.  “I’m sorry I didn’t nab him while I had him.”

“Never mind,” they rejoined; “if you stick to your present object, you’re bound to meet him again and soon.  Only take a word of advice.  Have a few guns with you, for you’re liable to need them.  We’re not afraid about nabbing the whole bunch; but we don’t want to lose good men going after a bad man.  And there’s such a thing as having too much courage.”

“I agree,” I remarked.  “I’ll take the guns all right, but I’m afraid I’ll need some more crew.  I mean I’ll want an engineer, and another deck-hand.”

And, just as I said this, there came up some one post-haste from the village; some one, too, that wanted the clergyman, as well as me, for my captain was ill, and at the point of death.

It was an hour or so after dinner time, and we were just enjoying our cigars.

“What on earth can be the trouble?” I said, but, the three of us, including the Commandant went.

We found the captain lying in his berth, writhing with cramps.

“What on earth have you been doing with yourself, Cap.?” I asked.

“I did nothing, sir, but eat my dinner, and drink that claret you were kind enough to give me.”

“That half-bottle of claret?”

“Yes, sir, the very same.”

“Well, there was nothing to hurt you in that,” I said.  “Did you take it half and half with water, as I told you?”

“I did indeed, sir.”

“And what did you eat for your dinner?”

“Some pigeon-peas, and some rainbow fish.”

“Sure, nothing else?”

“God’s truth, sir.”

“It’s very funny,” I said.  And then as he began to writhe and stiffen, I called out to Tom:  “Get some rum, Tom, and make it boiling hot, quick—­quick!”

And Tom did.

“We must get him into a sweat.”

Very soon we did.  Then I said to Tom: 

“What do you make out of this smell that’s coming from him, Tom?”

“Kerosene, sar,” said Tom.

“I thought the very same,” I said.

Tom beckoned me to go with him to the galley, and showed me several quart bottles of water standing on a shelf.

“Two of these were kerosene,” he said, “and I suppose Cap. made a mistake”; for one looked as clear as the other.

Then I took one of them back to the captain.

“Was it a bottle like this you mixed with the claret?” I asked.

“Sure it was, sir,” he answered, writhing hard with the cramps.