He lighted his lamp, examined the belt, unripped it, and poured out the contents on his table.

They were dazzling.  A great many large pieces of amethyst, and some of white topaz and rock crystal; a large number of smaller stones, carbuncles, chrysolites, and not a few emeralds.  Dodd looked at them with pleasure, sparkling in the lamplight.

“What a lot!” said he.  “I wonder what they are worth!” He sent for the first mate, who, he knew, did a little private business in precious stones.  “Masterton,” said he, “oblige me by counting these stones with me, and valuing them.”

Mr. Masterton stared, and his mouth watered.  However, he named the various stones and valued them.  He said there was one stone, a large emerald, without a flaw, that was worth a heavy sum by itself; and the pearls, very fine:  and looking at the great number, they must be worth a thousand pounds.

Captain Dodd then entered the whole business carefully in the ship’s log:  the living man he described thus:  “About five feet six in height, and about fifty years of age.”  Then he described the notes and the stones very exactly, and made Masterton, the valuer, sign the log.

Staines took a good deal of egg-flip that night, and next day ate solid food; but they questioned him in vain; his reason was entirely in abeyance:  he had become an eater, and nothing else.  Whenever they gave him food, he showed a sort of fawning animal gratitude.  Other sentiment he had none, nor did words enter his mind any more than a bird’s.  And since it is not pleasant to dwell on the wreck of a fine understanding, I will only say that they landed him at Cape Town, out of bodily danger, but weak, and his mind, to all appearance, a hopeless blank.

They buried the skeleton,—­read the service of the English Church over a Malabar heathen.

Dodd took Staines to the hospital, and left twenty pounds with the governor of it to cure him.  But he deposited Staines’s money and jewels with a friendly banker, and begged that the principal cashier might see the man, and be able to recognize him, should he apply for his own.

The cashier came and examined him, and also the ruby ring on his finger—­a parting gift from Rosa—­and remarked this was a new way of doing business.

“Why, it is the only one, sir,” said Dodd.  “How can we give you his signature?  He is not in his right mind.”

“Nor never will be.”

“Don’t say that, sir.  Let us hope for the best, poor fellow.”

Having made these provisions, the worthy captain weighed anchor, with a warm heart and a good conscience.  Yet the image of the man he had saved pursued him, and he resolved to look after him next time he should coal at Cape Town, homeward bound.

Staines recovered his strength in about two months; but his mind returned in fragments, and very slowly.  For a long, long time he remembered nothing that had preceded his great calamity.  His mind started afresh, aided only by certain fixed habits; for instance, he could read and write:  but, strange as it may appear, he had no idea who he was; and when his memory cleared a little on that head, he thought his surname was Christie, but he was not sure.