“Aye,” said I, “Captain Edgcomb, sir, rather would I go down with you to Bombay and die according to the law of my country than perish here at the hands of these heathen blackamoors, or among evil pirates.” He turned away to his work, rumbling in his throat like the end of a thunderstorm. But others had compassion on me. As they came and went with their water casks some humane men brought me one thing and another to refresh me, encouraging me also with the promise that I should go away with them. At evening the last load was taken. In that boat were the doctor and the purser, both of whom said the captain would send for me to come aboard. “I am quite ready at any time,” I told them, “for all I have in the world is the clothing that hangs to my back.” So very hopefully I sat me down upon the sand and watched the sun go down to his rest beyond the far sea line; but more I gazed at the masts and yards of the three ships which stood out so bold and black against the red sky. “They will come soon,” thought I, “for they are getting ready to go,” the men being in the shrouds and out on the footropes. When it grew dark, lights jumped from porthole to porthole as the men went about the decks setting out the lanterns. I should guess the time to have been past midnight when the anchor chains rattled and the capstan creaked and the chant of the people working it and the clatter of their bars in the drumhead sockets came across the water. “They will be here anon,” thinks I, and I got down as close to the water as I could, that they should lose no effort when the boat came in for me. But it did not come. Perhaps it was one o’clock when the ship’s lights began to move away--away and away until they went out altogether, and only a long, thin lane of moonlight lay in the wide, empty waste. My feet felt wet; I looked down and found I was standing in water up to my knees. How hard is the sea! VIII I crawled up the sand and lay stupidly all night, nor thought--nay hardly wished--to see another morning dawn. The blackamoors that rampaged in this island would surely finish me if disease did not, though indeed some had been along the beach when we came in and did us no harm. Toward noon as I sat under a tree feeling indeed that I was sinking to my end, there came one of the negroes to me. He was a very tall man with a sort of twisted face, the jib of his chin being thrust somewhat to the side rather than in front, which did not make him look pretty. But he wore breeches and a torn shirt, while in his belt was stuck a sailor’s dirk, which was a great wonderment to me. If he were a vulture he should find but bony carrion. “Hello, Jack!” I opened my eyes, sure now that the fever had got to my brain. “Who be you?” I asked, not believing that my ears heard English from a native negro. He leaned back with his hands on his hips and laughed at my astonishment. “You know Bednal Green,[9] Jack?”