Chapter XVIII COMMITTED TO THE DEEP "I'M afraid it's a case with poor Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, in a low tone, as the whaler came alongside the yacht and my father climbed over the side. "He's taken a turn for the worse, and I don't think he'll last till tomorrow. "Poor fellow! Is there no hope?" The doctor shook his head. "I was doubtful from the first. The spear was a poisoned one; though the poison was undoubtedly stale, and therefore slow in action, it was none the less sure." "Can he be seen?" "Yes, he's quite conscious." I followed my father to the shelter-tent, under which the wounded seaman lay. "Well, Barnes, how goes it--better?" he asked, with a forced cheerfulness. "No, sir, though 'tain't no good making a fuss about it. My number's up." "Nonsense, man! you'll soon be all right again, I hope." "All right aloft, sir, please God. I'm real glad you've come to see me, Cap'n, for there'll be one or two little things I want squared up." "I'll do anything I can." "Well, sir, there's my medal for South Africa, with three clasps: would you mind accepting it as a kind o' keepsake from me? An' there's the good-conduct medal, too. That ain't of much account compared with t'other, but p'r'aps Mister Reginald would 'ave it." "Thank you, Barnes; but have you no friends to give them to?" "Never a relation in the world, sir. There's my pension papers in my ditty-box; it's a matter of three quarters due to me. Will you see that my chum, Joe Dirham, draws it? I've signed a paper about it." "All right; I'll see to that." "An' my identity-paper. It'll fetch a shilling at the 'Register's' at the first home-port we touch. Joe might just as well 'ave that; 'tain't no good throwin' good money away, and, besides, it will make all square and above-board up at the Admiralty." "Do you feel much pain?" "Precious little, Cap'n. As I said afore, it's no good makin' a fuss over it; a seaman with one leg ain't of no use to you, but"--here his voice trembled a little--"promise me, sir, that you'll bury me at sea, an' not on the island; it'll be a snug moorin' for me at the bottom of the lagoon. Now, Cap'n, read somethin' out of the Book, an' say a prayer for me--I, never wasn't much in that line myself." Somehow I felt unable to remain longer, so, shaking the seaman's thin hand, I went aft, leaving my father with him. The news of the state of poor Barnes cast a gloom over the ship, and any feeling of enthusiasm over the discovery of the treasure was smothered by the melancholy reflection that one of our comrades was on his deathbed. Next morning I was awakened by the sound of voices on deck. The sun had risen in a thick haze, and, though not a zephyr disturbed the surface of the lagoon, the air was cool and pleasant. Wondering what the sounds meant, and whether poor Barnes had gone, I slipped on my clothes and went on deck.