The mate ran aft along the alley-way. "Captain!—what’s the matter, sir?" "Sick" Captain Bradley’s hand flew to his breast, clutching his coat in a great handful. His face turned deathly white, his eyes closed, his mouth twisted in the intensity of the pain. For an instant he swayed; then opened his eyes again, and pulled himself upright against the rail. "I brought her in!" he cried loudly "My old ship ... under sail" The mate was just in time to catch him as he pitched forward insensible. *IX* The doctor came out of the captain’s stateroom with a grave look on his face. The mate stood in the middle of the cabin floor, nervous and unstrung; he had been fond of Captain Bradley. The afternoon sun streamed through the cabin skylight. For several hours they had been watching the old man struggle for breath. The mate’s gaze roved uneasily over the top of the chart table, where, according to his invariable habit, the captain had that morning spread the tablecover that he used in port, and had set out a few pictures and ornaments, to make the cabin look more homelike. He had done it between spasms of pain, while they had been towing up the bay; had done it for something to occupy his mind. He always tried to arrange the things as he remembered his wife used to do. "He can’t last much longer" said the doctor "His heart is practically gone" The mate nodded without looking up. "Is he suffering much pain?" "Not now. I’ve just given him another hypodermic. That’s all we can do for him" They went together into the stateroom. Captain Bradley lay quietly against a heap of pillows, with his eyes half closed. He had regained consciousness as soon as they had brought him below. As the mate bent above him, he opened his eyes and stared dully around the room. He was muttering to himself. The mate leaned closer—then drew back sharply, realizing that the words were only the product of delirium. "Hello, hello! ... that you, Sargent? When did you arrive? Let’s get a couple of chairs this afternoon, and go along Glenealy Road. I want to see Hong Kong harbour again through the bamboo trees.... Remember that day we had a picnic on Glenealy Road? You had your wife with you that voyage. My Frankie got tired: I had to carry him in my arms.... Frankie never grew up. No.... He died" The mate shook his head violently, as if to throw off the mortality of the scene. He turned away from the bunk. "Why does the old man have to wander so?" he demanded sharply. "The opiate" said the doctor "Don’t worry—he isn’t suffering now" Captain Bradley regarded his officer with a long and profound stare. Suddenly, recognition dawned in his eyes. "Oh, Foster!—what do you say? How much water do the pumps give now? Any chance of the leak drying up?" "Only a couple of feet left in her, Captain. Four men have come off from shore to relieve our crew. We’ll soon have her as dry as a bone, sir"