The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor’s wife, ticked steadily, although a half hour slow.  Ellery, glancing at it to see if the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud its ticking sounded.  Wondering at this, he was aware there was no other sound in the house.  He rose and looked in at the door of the adjoining room.  The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet on the bed.

The minister tiptoed over to look at him.  And, as he did so, the man opened his eyes.

“Halloo!” he said faintly.  “Who are you?”

Ellery, startled, made no answer.

“Who are you?” demanded the man again.  Then, with an oath, he repeated the question, adding:  “What place is this?  This ain’t the fo’castle.  Where am I?”

“You’re ashore.  You’ve been sick.  Don’t try to move.”

“Sick?  Humph!  Sick?  ’Course I been sick.  Don’t I know it?  The d—­n cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes!  I’ll fix ’em for it one of these days, you hear—­”

“Sshh!”

“Hush up yourself.  Where am I?”

“You’re ashore.  On Cape Cod.  At Trumet.”

“Trumet!  Trumet!”

He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow.  Ellery was obliged to use force to hold him down.

“Hush! hush!” pleaded the minister, “you mustn’t try to—­”

“Trumet!  I ain’t.  You’re lyin’.  Trumet!  Good God!  Who brought me here?  Did she—­Is she—­”

He struggled again.  Then his strength and his reason left him simultaneously and the delirium returned.  He began to shout a name, a name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from the bed, scarcely believing his ears.

All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, but of people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned before.  And the minister, listening intently to every word, caught himself wondering if he also was not losing his mind.

When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to find John Ellery standing over him.

“Capen,” whispered the minister, “Capen, get up.  I must talk with you.”

Ebenezer was indignant.

“Judas priest!” he exclaimed; “why don’t you scare a feller to death, comin’ and yankin’ him out of bed by the back hair?” Then, being more wide awake, he added:  “What’s the row?  Worse, is he?  He ain’t—­”

“No.  But I’ve got to talk with you.  You used to be a whaler, I know.  Were you acquainted in New Bedford?”

“Sartin.  Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, pretty nigh, by the smell, if you’d set me down side of ’em blindfold.”

“Did you ever know anyone named—­” He finished the sentence.

“Sure and sartin, I did.  Why?”

“Did you know him well?”

“Well’s I wanted to.  Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast goer, and went downhill like a young one’s sled, when he got started.  His folks had money, that was the trouble with him.  Why, ’course I knew him!  He married—­”