one with great speed, getting his religious teachings between ship and ship’s arrival, and six or seven shillings a week for distributing tracts to mariners.  What the faith was Pambe did not in the least care; but he knew if he said ’Native Ki-lis-ti-an, Sar’ to men with long black coats he might get a few coppers; and the tracts were vendible at a little public-house that sold shag by the ‘dottel,’ which is even smaller weight than the ‘half-screw,’ which is less than the half-ounce, and a most profitable retail trade.

But after eight months Pambe fell sick with pneumonia, contracted from long standing still in slush; and much against his will he was forced to lie down in his two-and-sixpenny room raging against Fate.

The kind gentleman sat by his bedside, and grieved to find that Pambe talked in strange tongues, instead of listening to good books, and almost seemed to become a benighted heathen again—­till one day he was roused from semi-stupor by a voice in the street by the dock-head.  ’My friend—­he,’ whispered Pambe.  ’Call now—­call Nurkeed.  Quick!  God has sent him!’

‘He wanted one of his own race,’ said the kind gentleman; and, going out, he called ‘Nurkeed!’ at the top of his voice.  An excessively coloured man in a rasping white shirt and brand-new slops, a shining hat, and a breastpin, turned round.  Many voyages had taught Nurkeed how to spend his money and made him a citizen of the world.

‘Hi!  Yes!’ said he, when the situation was explained.  ’Command him—­ black nigger—­when I was in the Saarbruck.  Ole Pambe, good ole Pambe.  Dam lascar.  Show him up, Sar;’ and he followed into the room.  One glance told the stoker what the kind gentleman had overlooked.  Pambe was desperately poor.  Nurkeed drove his hands deep into his pockets, then advanced with clenched fists on the sick, shouting, ’Hya, Pambe.  Hya!  Hee-ah!  Hulla!  Heh!  Takilo!  Takilo!  Make fast aft, Pambe.  You know, Pambe.  You know me.  Dekho, jee!  Look!  Dam big fat lazy lascar!’

Pambe beckoned with his left hand.  His right was under his pillow.  Nurkeed removed his gorgeous hat and stooped over Pambe till he could catch a faint whisper.  ‘How beautiful!’ said the kind gentleman.  ’How these Orientals love like children!’

‘Spit him out,’ said Nurkeed, leaning over Pambe yet more closely.

‘Touching the matter of that fish and onions—­’ said Pambe—­and sent the knife home under the edge of the rib-bone upwards and forwards.

There was a thick sick cough, and the body of the African slid slowly from the bed, his clutching hands letting fall a shower of silver pieces that ran across the room.

‘Now I can die!’ said Pambe.

But he did not die.  He was nursed back to life with all the skill that money could buy, for the Law wanted him; and in the end he grew sufficiently healthy to be hanged in due and proper form.

Pambe did not care particularly; but it was a sad blow to the kind gentleman.