At this hour no one, surely, would descend again into the hold. Yves was alone, stretched on the floor, fettered, his foot in the iron ring, and his teeth now were chattering. CHAPTER VII Nevertheless, an hour afterwards, Jean Barrada reappeared, ostensibly to arrange one of those tackles which are used for the guns. And this time, Yves called him in a low voice: "Barrada, you might, like a good fellow, get me a drink of water." Barrada went quickly to fetch his little mug, which during the day he carried on his belt and which he put away at night in a gun; he poured into it some water which was of the colour of rust, having been brought from La Plata in an iron tank, and a little wine stolen from the steward's room, and a little sugar stolen from the Commander's office. And then with much kindness and very gently, he raised Yves' head and gave him to drink. "And now," he said, "won't you change your clothes?" "Yes," replied Yves, in a meek voice, which had become almost childlike, and sounded odd by contrast with his manner of a short time before. He helped him to undress, humouring him as one might a child. He dried his chest, his shoulders and his arms, put him on dry clothes, and made him lie down again, first placing a sack under his head so that he might be able to sleep easier. When Yves murmured his thanks, an amiable smile, the first, passed over his face, changing its whole expression. It was over now. His heart was softened and he was himself again. To-day the change had come more quickly than usual. He felt an infinite tenderness as he thought of his mother, and he wanted to cry; something like a tear even came into his eyes, which were not used to yield to this weakness. . . . Perhaps after all a little indulgence would again be shown him, on account of his good conduct on board, on account of his endurance in hardship, and of his arduous work in rough weather. If it were possible--if he was not given too harsh a punishment, it was certain he would not repeat his offence and that he would earn forgiveness. It was a strong resolution this time. It needed but a single glass of brandy, after the long abstinences of the sea, to make him lose his head at once; and then the devil in him drove him to drink another, and another again. But if he did not begin, if he never drank again, he would have a sure means of keeping steady. His repentance had the sincerity of the repentance of a child, and he persuaded himself that, if he escaped this time from the dread court martial which consigns sailors to prison, this would be his last great fault. He hoped also in me and, above all, wanted earnestly to see me. He begged Barrada to go up and fetch me. CHAPTER VIII Yves had been my friend for seven years when he celebrated in this way his return to his native land. We had entered the navy by different doors: he two years before I did, although he was some months younger.