Presently the physician was spied coming along the Broom Road at a great rate, and so absorbed in the business of locomotion, that he heeded not the imprudence of being in a hurry in a tropical climate. He was in a profuse perspiration; which must have been owing to the warmth of his feelings, notwithstanding we had supposed him a man of no heart. But his benevolent haste upon this occasion was subsequently accounted for: it merely arose from professional curiosity to behold a case most unusual in his Polynesian practice. Now, under certain circumstances, sailors, generally so frolicsome, are exceedingly particular in having everything conducted with the strictest propriety. Accordingly, they deputed me, as his intimate friend, to sit at Long Ghost’s head, so as to be ready to officiate as “spokesman” and answer all questions propounded, the rest to keep silent. “What’s the matter?” exclaimed Johnson, out of breath, and bursting into the Calabooza: “how did it happen?—speak quick!” and he looked at Long Ghost. I told him how the fit came on. “Singular”—he observed—“very: good enough pulse;” and he let go of it, and placed his hand upon the heart. “But what’s all that frothing at the mouth?” he continued; “and bless me! look at the abdomen!” The region thus denominated exhibited the most unaccountable symptoms. A low, rumbling sound was heard; and a sort of undulation was discernible beneath the thin cotton frock. “Colic, sir?” suggested a bystander. “Colic be hanged!” shouted the physician; “who ever heard of anybody in a trance of the colic?” During this, the patient lay upon his back, stark and straight, giving no signs of life except those above mentioned. “I’ll bleed him!” cried Johnson at last—“run for a calabash, one of you!” “Life ho!” here sung out Navy Bob, as if he had just spied a sail. “What under the sun’s the matter with him!” cried the physician, starting at the appearance of the mouth, which had jerked to one side, and there remained fixed. “Pr’aps it’s St. Witus’s hornpipe,” suggested Bob. “Hold the calabash!”—and the lancet was out in a moment. But before the deed could be done, the face became natural;—a sigh was heaved;—the eyelids quivered, opened, closed; and Long Ghost, twitching all over, rolled on his side, and breathed audibly. By degrees, he became sufficiently recovered to speak.