apparently, though it seemed to be neither more nor less than sheer joy that overcame him, for he let out a long breath, and his eyes were glistening as if the tears stood in them. "James--James Macleod!" said he quickly, with a husky voice, "you oughtn't to've deceived one you've sailed so long with; but you meant me a good surprise, and 'twas kindly done of you! I know the very run o' the clocks off Greenwich Reach, man; d'ye think one could mistake the sound of Lon'on town, fidgeting when it wakes, either?--we're--we're _home_ already!" And he fell back in the cot, with the drops running down his cheeks, smiling happily all the time at Macleod in a way that went to one's heart; while the Scotchman stared helplessly to the surgeon, who slipped to the port and closed it. "I know by your way, James," continued the poor man, "you wanted to send up to Virginia Row for 'em _all_; but don't send for an hour yet; better go up yourself and break it to 'em--_break_ it to 'em, be sure of that, James; I shouldn't wonder but I pulled up, after all. Ay--that first one we heard was Greenwich Hospital--t'other in Dickson's brewery or Redriff--" Here his eyelids began to drop, owing to the sleeping-draught he had got, when suddenly they opened wide again. "Ha!" said he, listening, and putting up a finger, "but I haven't heard St Paul's strike six yet; it's seldom so long after; ought to be heard from here of a morning; let's--" By little and little, however, the sick man's eyes closed, and you heard him murmuring, as his finger sank down, "Macleod, say--to her--say--luff, luff, my lad, keep her her course--," till his shrunk face was as quiet on the pillow as if he'd been really at home the first night after a voyage. "Oh man, doctor!" said the second mate, heaving a breath, "isn't terrible! Good forgive me for a lee to a dying man! Take an old seaman's word for it, Doctor Small, yon clock ashore was no mortal soond, sir; ye may keep your drogues for them they'll do good to. 'Twas neither more or less than the captain's _dregy_!" "Phoo!" answered the Scotch surgeon, who was one of your sceptical chaps, as I heard say, "some other vessels here, of course, that's all." The sailor gave him only a smile of pity for not being able to distinguish the sound of a ship's bell. "There can't be a town hereabout, Collins?" whispered Westwood. "A town,--no!" said I, "it's the best wilderness sign you can have--the African bell-bird!"[19] "Ah, ah!" said the surgeon, laughing, "there now, Macleod,--of course it can be explained naturally, like other things." The second mate gave me a doubtful scowl; but seeing Westwood, whom he had always seemed to think rather in the way before, his eye softened. [19] _Sc._--The South African and South American _Campanero_, or bell-bird, whose peculiar note may be heard two or three miles off, chiefly in the loneliest parts of the Brazilian or Benguela forests.