And perplexed enough did he look at the sight of his prostrate file of patients, plunged, apparently, in such unaccountable slumbers. “Daniel,” he cried, at last, punching in the side with his cane the individual thus designated—“Daniel, my good fellow, get up! do you hear?” But Black Dan was immovable; and he poked the next sleeper. “Joseph, Joseph! come, wake up! it’s me, Doctor Johnson.” But Jingling Joe, with mouth open, and eyes shut, was not to be started. “Bless my soul!” he exclaimed, with uplifted hands and cane, “what’s got into ’em? I say, men”—he shouted, running up and down—“come to life, men! what under the sun’s the matter with you?” and he struck the stocks, and bawled with increased vigour. At last he paused, folded his hands over the head of his cane, and steadfastly gazed upon us. The notes of the nasal orchestra were rising and falling upon his ear, and a new idea suggested itself. “Yes, yes; the rascals must have been getting boozy. Well, it’s none of my business—I’ll be off;” and off he went. No sooner was he out of sight, than nearly all started to their feet, and a hearty laugh ensued. Like myself, most of them had been watching the event from under a sly eyelid. By this time, too, Doctor Long Ghost was as wide awake as anybody. What were his reasons for taking laudanum,—if, indeed, he took any whatever,—is best known to himself; and, as it is neither mine nor the reader’s business, we will say no more about it. CHAPTER XXXVI. WE ARE CARRIED BEFORE THE CONSUL AND CAPTAIN We had been inmates of the Calabooza Beretanee about two weeks, when, one morning, Captain Bob, coming from the bath, in a state of utter nudity, brought into the building an armful of old tappa, and began to dress to go out. The operation was quite simple. The tappa—of the coarsest kind—was in one long, heavy piece; and, fastening one end to a column of Habiscus wood supporting the Calabooza, he went off a few paces, and putting the other about his waist, wound himself right up to the post. This unique costume, in rotundity something like a farthingale, added immensely to his large hulk; so much so that he fairly waddled in his gait. But he was only adhering to the fashion of his fathers; for, in the olden time, the “Kihee,” or big girdle, was quite the mode for both sexes. Bob, despising recent innovations, still clung to it. He was a gentleman of the old school—one of the last of the Kihees. He now told us that he had orders to take us before the consul. Nothing loth, we formed in procession; and, with the old man at our head, sighing and labouring like an engine, and flanked by a guard of some twenty natives, we started for the village. Arrived at the consular office, we found Wilson there, and four or five Europeans, seated in a row facing us; probably with the view of presenting as judicial an appearance as possible.