“Then why, by that devil who always seems to be busy in ship’s forecastles, come you to me now with your growlings and your questions and your dots, and your Cotts and your dollars, Yan Bol.” “Growlings--questions! I likes to know vhen we get der dollars on board und make sail, dot vhas all.” “Strike a light with your eyes and keep a lookout for yourself, and hail the fore royal yard, will ye, and receive the man’s report.” He went forward, and his roar swept straight aloft like a blast from the mouth of the cannon. There was nothing in sight at sea, the man called down. I looked toward the island and saw the boat at that moment stealing out of the cave. I mused on Bol while the boat swept across the satin calm surface of the natural harbor, the oars swinging like lines of flame in the men’s hands. Was Bol going to give trouble? It was late in the day to ask that question. It would be impossible to rid the ship of him on this side the Horn, and by the time it came to t’other side---- The boat arrived, and Greaves rose in the stern sheets; he rose, but he was supported too. A sailor grasped him by either arm, and he was helped with difficulty over the side of the brig. I was at the gangway to receive him, and assisted by seizing his hands as the men helped him to climb. He was pale as milk, and his mouth was drawn with pain. “What is the matter?” I asked. “I have had a fall,” he said, speaking with a labored breath. “I tripped and drove my whole weight against the sharp edge of a case in the lazarette of the ship yonder. I wish I may not have broken a rib. Help me, Fielding.” I took him by the arm, and Jimmy, who stood near, grasped him in obedience to my gesture by the other arm, and together we got him into the cabin and to his berth. He asked for brandy-and-water and drank a tumblerful, and then requested me to help him to strip, that he might see if he had broken any bones. He had hurt himself over the right hip, and the skin was somewhat darkened there, but the ribs were unbroken. He felt over himself anxiously, occasionally groaning, and said: “No, my good angel be praised, the bones are sound. I am in torment from the pain of the blow. That must be it, and it will pass--it will pass.” “I would recommend you to lie perfectly still.” “No; I must be on deck. I can sit and keep watch and look about me while you go ashore.” I helped him to dress, and he seemed unable to speak for pain while he put his arms and body in motion. He then asked for another glass of brandy-and-water and sat, saying he would rest and talk to me for ten minutes. “Are you in pain when you are still?” said I. “No. I was too eager, and consequently careless, pressed forward, tripped, and should have set fire to the ship had I swooned, for I was alone and the fall flung the lighted lantern from me, and the candle lay naked and burning among the cases.” “Lord, how suddenly will a trifle become a frightful thing at sea!” said I.