"That's more than I know;"--then, after a pause, during which he became as blue as indigo, "where is the Ballahoo?" gasped the poor fellow in a fluttering tone to the canoe-men, as if terrified to learn their answer. "Where is the Ballahoo you say, massa!!"--echoed Quashie in great surprise, that _he_, the master of her, should ask such a question. "Yes--you black scoundrel,"--roared Hause, gathering breath, "_where_ is the Ballahoo?--this is her buoy, don't you see?" "Where is de Ballahoo!!!"--again screamed the negroes, in a volley, in utter extremity of amazement at the enquiry being _seriously_ repeated. "Yes, you ragamuffins," quoth I, Benjie Brail, excited in my turn--"Where _is_ the Ballahoo?" _Omnes_.--"WHERE IS THE BALLAHOO?" CHAPTER VII. THE DEVIL'S GULLY. I was certainly extremely puzzled myself to conjecture what could have become of the brig--that she had vanished was certain--and as for poor Captain Hause, he was in a truly pitiable state; quite stunned with the suddenness and severity of the blow, so as to be altogether unable to think or act for himself--"Come, Hause, my lad," said I, encouragingly, "this won't do; rouse yourself, man, and let us see what's to be done." At this he slowly rose up in the canoe, rubbing his eyes, and pressing his forehead, as if he had awakened out of some horrid dream, the effects of which he was endeavouring to shake off; but the instant he was no longer in doubt as to the reality of his misfortune, he cast the slough of his despondency, and with terrific energy tore off his jacket and neckerchief, and dashing both into the water, along with his hat, threw himself headlong after them; being only prevented from accomplishing his purpose of self-destruction by my dragging him on board again by the leg, and then holding him in the canoe by main force. "I say, my men,"--to the black canoemen--"pull to that big timber-ship, will ye?" "Ay, ay, massa," rejoined the poor fellows; "only hold dat poor mad buccra hand--take care him don't get at we, please, massa--white somarry when him blod up, bad enough--but when buccra beside himself, for true and true--heigh, de devil, massa." We soon got alongside of the Quebec ship. Several of the crew, in their dirty canvass trowsers, red flannel shirts, and night-caps, were standing at the gangway, apparently observing us. "You are the mate of this ship?" said I to a good-looking young man, who was leaning over the side, neatly dressed in a blue jacket, check shirt, duck trowsers, and straw hat. "I am, sir--can I be of any service to you?" "I wish you would lend a hand to get this poor fellow up the side. He is very ill, you see; and if I try to take him ashore I am persuaded he will jump overboard. He has endeavoured to do so already."