Then Captain Mourez stood still, and after pondering a little while addressed Carew. "I must at once convert some portion of the vessel into a hospital. The forecastle is no longer a fit place for the healthy men, so we will give it up to the sick. Sir, we must pray for a fresh breeze to carry us quickly into northern latitudes, where the cold will kill the plague that has come to us." At that moment the boatswain came on to the quarter-deck, and Mourez ordered him to call up the watch below. The men reached the deck with unusual promptitude. They were summoned aft, and the captain in a few words explained to them how matters stood, and exhorted them to be courageous as French sailors should be. He ordered them to rig up a large awning forward, under which the crew were to live so long as the vessel was in warm latitudes. He also instructed the boatswain to ventilate the forecastle as thoroughly as was possible by means of wind-sails, so that a cool temperature might be obtained for the sick men. On the following day two other men fell ill, and were admitted into the hospital. In the afternoon Hallé died, and his body was immediately lowered into the sea. Before sunset the loom of land was visible over the ship's bows. It was the desert island of Trinidad, situated near latitude 20 deg. south, about six hundred miles from the coast of Brazil. And now a most unfortunate calamity befell the pestilence-stricken vessel. The wind completely died away, and she lay motionless on a sea of oily smoothness for three whole days. The vertical sun blazed down upon her out of the cloudless sky, and the intense sultriness of the atmosphere lowered the energies of those who were still in good health, and predisposed them to contagion, while it hurried on the fatal termination of the fever for the sick. A gloom fell on the ship's company. The men looked into each other's faces with helpless terror, for what could be done against this invisible foe? One after another sickened, died, and was lowered over the side in shotted shroud. Baptiste and the two Spaniards, though they considered themselves acclimatised to the tropics, and almost proof against contagion, shared the prevailing sense of terror. On the second day of the calm, the captain, who had doctored all the sick men to the best of his ability, was himself attacked by the fever. Carew, who had some little knowledge of medicine, volunteered to take his place, and as the mate gratefully complied with his request, employed all his time in attending upon the patients in the forecastle and the captain in his cabin. On the third day of the calm the contagion seemed to have spent itself. No fresh cases were reported, and those who were lying sick became no worse.