I walked away. When I turned the Dutchman still stood where I had left him, looking toward me. He then rolled forward and entered the caboose. There was no more weight of wind. In a few hours’ time I should be keeping the brig more off for the Horn. I forget our latitude on the day of Greaves’ death. It was something south of the parallel of the Horn, and our longitude was right for a shift of the helm. I walked the deck, thinking much of Greaves. What had killed him? He had been long a-dying, ever since his accident, indeed. No doubt that injury betwixt his ribs had brought about his death, and I reckoned his craziness to have been a consequence of that injury, though to be sure, his mind, as we would say at sea, had been launched with a list. But he was dead, and I was alone in the brig with a treasure of half a million of silver to carry home, and with a crew of men I did not trust. No, it was not Bol’s question that had startled me. The moment I came on deck, after leaving the dead captain, I realized my loneliness, and all my old misgivings stormed in upon me till, I give you my word, I stood with my back upon the helm, panting as after a run, with the sudden passion of anxiety that uprose. Presently, after walking and reasoning myself into something of soberness, I thought I would have Yan Bol aft. I called; he put his head out of the caboose; I beckoned, and he approached, thrusting his pipe into his breeches pocket. It was his watch below, and he had a right to smoke on deck. “The captain is dead,” said I. “Let us talk of the affairs of the brig.” “I vhas villing to talk, but you valked off, Mr. Fielding.” “I walked off because I was fresh from the side of a friend who is dead.” “I vhas sorry, too. He vhas a goodt sailor. When did you bury him?” “To-morrow.” “He vhas steeched up by me himself. I makes a good shob of him out of respect to you, Mr. Fielding.” “What change is to come about? If I have charge of the brig, I can’t keep watch.” “If you vhas not in sharge, Mr. Fielding, der brick vhas der _Flying Doytchman_.” “You’ll be chief mate, then. Whom can you trust to act as second--to keep a lookout, I mean?” “Plindfold me, und der man I touch is der man you vant. Vere der eggs vhas all ash one der voorst vhas der best.” “Let the men choose for themselves, then.” “Dot shall be---- Und vhat vhas our port, Mr. Fielding?” “Our port? Our port?--why--why----” I staggered in my speech, for, now that Greaves was dead, what name was I to give the place we were bound to? “Vhas she to be Amsterdam?” “No. You and I will talk of this later on.” He nodded emphatically, a large and heavy nod of approbation.