"So be it, sir," said Baptiste, with a shrug of his shoulders. The springing up of so favourable a wind put the captain of _La Bonne Esperance_ in a very contented frame of mind. In his delight he became more talkative than was his wont, and at frequent intervals during the day sought out Carew in order to converse with him. Carew, for his part, did his utmost--without appearing churlish--to avoid the company of Captain Mourez; for he recognised him as being a kind-hearted and an honest man. The captain observed his passenger's unsociable mood, and, attributing this to his sorrow at the loss of his yacht, endeavoured to cheer him with lively gossip, but produced the opposite result. Nothing noteworthy occurred during the day; the wind held steady, and the vessel made good progress. At about ten o'clock that night, Carew was sitting alone in the saloon, killing thought by reading a French novel which the captain had lent him, when Mourez himself came in. His face bore a very anxious expression. "Mr. Allen," he said, "I am seriously alarmed about that man Hallé. I fear that he has the fever." "The yellow fever?" exclaimed Carew, not raising his eyes from his book. "It seems so to me; but I have never seen a case of yellow fever. Do you mind coming with me to the forecastle and giving me your opinion?" "I will do so with pleasure," replied Carew, rising from his seat; "but my opinion is not worth much." They entered the forecastle, which was dimly lighted by a small lantern. Hallé was lying on his bunk, keeping up a constant delirious chatter. The other men, instead of sleeping soundly through their watch below after the manner of sailors, were sitting together in a group at the corner of the forecastle farthest removed from the sick man, looking scared and talking to each other in subdued voices. Carew stood by Hallé's bunk and looked at him. A change for the worse had recently come on. His face wore an expression of intense anxiety. His skin was wrinkled and of a dark yellow colour. The captain made a sign to Carew, and they went on deck again. "I have never seen yellow fever," said the latter; "ask my mate, Baptiste Fortier, what he thinks about it; he has had the fever himself." Thus did this strange man trifle with his conscience as usual, and attempt to shift the responsibility for the next step in the tragedy on to his companion. Baptiste was found, and was sent into the forecastle. It would be quite useless to lie about the facts now, so, returning to where Carew and Mourez were standing, he said, "It is yellow fever. I am sure of it." On hearing this the captain began to pace up and down the deck in a state of great agitation, wringing his hands. "Good heavens! this is a terrible affair," he cried. "For thirty hours Hallé has been spreading contagion in the forecastle. Who knows where this will end?"