Some misunderstanding having occurred upon letting go the anchor, the commander sent forward to inform the boatswain that he wished to speak to him when the yards were squared, but the quartermaster who bore the message returned with the information that the boatswain had just been seized, and was gone down below. As soon as circumstances permitted, Woodward left the deck and proceeded to the warrant-officer's cabin, where he found Mr. Shever coiled up and evidently suffering great agony. Having administered the usual remedy, he left him in charge of Thompson and Clare, who were chafing his limbs with warm turpentine, that being one of the methods then prescribed in such cases. Shever endured great torture until midnight, when, just as the sentry struck eight bells, he suddenly started up, seized his beloved pipe, which he insisted should not be taken from his neck, placed it to his lips, blew a loud blast, and, shrieking, "Hands, witness punishment," writhed in pain for a few moments, than became rigid and expired. Thompson brushed away a tear as he gazed upon the distorted countenance of his former friend, then covered the still form with a sheet, observing as he did so, "Ah, poor Mr. Shever, you'd a good heart afore that devil Crushe got hold of you," when he became aware that Clare was in the cabin; and turning round, saw the latter with his face pale and scared, moving his lips, as if praying for the man who had during life been his enemy; noticing which Jerry exclaimed, "Tom, you are a good feller to pray for him wot swore agin you and injured you. I couldn't do it." Clare looked at his friend for a moment, then replied in a voice broken with emotion, "I'm only a mortal man, Jerry, and him wot is under that has been my enemy; but I can't stand by his body and say I'm glad to see him a-lying there. I forgive him all he has done to me, and hope he will be forgiven by _Him_ who knows more about his heart than we does. Poor woman! I heartily pity his wife." "So do I, Tom. I always have done that. But what makes you so white and haggard, Tom?" Clare sunk into a chair, and covering his face with his hands, sobbed like a child. "Tom, Tom, don't give way. You, of all others, who is braver than any of us, you ain't afraid now, are you?" Clare took his hands away, and mastering his emotion, assisted his friend to prepare the body for interment; but before the few offices were performed he was obliged to retire, evidently totally unmanned from some cause which he could not sufficiently master his feelings to explain. However, after a time he became more calm, when he sought for Thompson and told him the reason of his agitation. "Jerry, don't laugh at me, or think lightly of what I tell you." "Did ever I laugh at a real sorrer in all my born days? Did ever you see me make fun of trouble in others, Tom?" Clare shook his head. "Then, old mate, tell me your trouble, and if it's in my power I'll help you through with my best advice."