"Would to God, that some portion of these injuries had befallen those who
are younger and stronger!" murmured the captain, as he leaned over the
dying master. "Can I do aught to relieve thy mind, my old and worthy
shipmate?"
"I have had my misgivings, since we have dealt with witchcraft!" returned
Trysail, whose voice the rattling of the throat had already nearly
silenced "I have had misgivings--but no matter. Take care of the ship--I
have been thinking of our people--you'll have to cut--they can never lift
the anchor--the wind is here at north."
"All this is ordered. Trouble thyself no further about the vessel; she
shall be taken care of, I promise you.--Speak of thy wife, and of thy
wishes in England."
"God bless Mrs. Trysail! She'll get a pension, and I hope contentment! You
must give the reef a good, berth, in rounding Montauk--and you'll
naturally wish to find the anchors again, when the coast is clear--if you
can find it in your conscience, say a good word of poor old Ben Trysail,
in the dispatches--"
The voice of the master sunk to a whisper, and became inaudible. Ludlow
thought he strove to speak again, and he bent his ear to his mouth.
"I say--the weather-main-swifter and both backstays are gone; Look to the
spars, for--for--there are sometimes--heavy puffs at night--in the
Americas!"
The last heavy respiration succeeded, after which came the long silence of
death. The body was removed to the poop, and Ludlow, with a saddened
heart, turned to duties that this accident rendered still more imperative.
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