Leaving the shore party to make the best of their way to the joss-house, we will return to the Stinger. Master Jordun, who had been attended to and placed in a cot, finding the place pretty quiet after the departure of the fighting party, got up and cruised round the sick bay. He had made a critical survey of nearly all its occupants, and thought it time to return to his cot, fearing the surgeon would come back and give him a scolding, when his attention was suddenly arrested by hearing a husky voice repeat his name. "Young Bill! I say! Come here." "Who's that ere a flyin' my number?" "Me--yer old chum, Jemmy," was the faint response. "Where are ye?" demanded the boy, who could not see any resemblance to his friend in the mummy-like figure from which the sound appeared to proceed. "Here I am, and it's all up with me, my boy--I'm going fast. Although that infernal sawbones ses I'm all right, Jemmy ain't long for this world." "Humbug! You're all right. Why, I'm wounded and a walkin' about." At this moment the surgeon entered, and asked the boy why he was out of his cot. "Old Jemmy called me, sir." "Is that the doctor!" quavered the old sailor. "What do you want, my man? You must keep quiet." Upon this the old fellow, calling the surgeon to him, desired he would bear witness that he left "his clothes, pay, and prize money to that ere kid Bill Jordun." "I'll see that it is done; but if you remain quiet, you will recover." Old Jemmy kept quite still until the surgeon left again, upon which he called to the boy and told him to step out of the sick-bay, and go to his ditty box, in which he would find a bottle of grog, and to bring it to him at once, never mind who said no. The young scamp, desirous of pleasing the man who had made him his heir, did as he was directed; and having secured the bottle, took it to his friend, who begged him to put it to his lips--"gentle, my boy." The lad did as he was desired, and having held it there until he thought the old fellow had imbibed his share, he removed it and took a pull at it himself. "Give us another nip," piteously pleaded the mummy. "It ain't good for you, old 'un--you knows it isn't," replied the boy; who, however, replaced the bottle to his friend's lips, and allowed him to empty its contents. "I'm blowed! if he ain't a sucked it dry!" ejaculated the lad. "I say, Jemmy, how do you feel now?" But old Jemmy replied not, so the boy covered him up and left him. About five hours after this the sick-bay man, thinking the old man was very quiet, proceeded to uncover his face, and found he was dead; upon which he reported to the surgeon that, "Old Jemmy were dead, and that he smelt werry strong of rum." Boy Jordun became delirious during the night, and as he also was perfumed in the same manner, the doctor concluded that some numskull had given them a glass of grog, and blamed his man for not keeping a good look-out.