I was awakened by the light of a hand-lantern shining in my face . A small man of about thirty , with green eyes and a tangle of fair hair , stood looking down at me . `` Well , '' said he , `` how goes it ? '' I answered by a sob ; and my visitor then felt my pulse and temples , and set himself to wash and dress the wound upon my scalp . `` Ay , '' said he , `` a sore dunt * . What , man ? Cheer up ! The world 's no done ; you 've made a bad start of it but you 'll make a better . Have you had any meat ? '' * Stroke . I said I could not look at it : and thereupon he gave me some brandy and water in a tin pannikin , and left me once more to myself . The next time he came to see me , I was lying betwixt sleep and waking , my eyes wide open in the darkness , the sickness quite departed , but succeeded by a horrid giddiness and swimming that was almost worse to bear . I ached , besides , in every limb , and the cords that bound me seemed to be of fire . The smell of the hole in which I lay seemed to have become a part of me ; and during the long interval since his last visit I had suffered tortures of fear , now from the scurrying of the ship 's rats , that sometimes pattered on my very face , and now from the dismal imaginings that haunt the bed of fever . The glimmer of the lantern , as a trap opened , shone in like the heaven 's sunlight ; and though it only showed me the strong , dark beams of the ship that was my prison , I could have cried aloud for gladness . The man with the green eyes was the first to descend the ladder , and I noticed that he came somewhat unsteadily . He was followed by the captain . Neither said a word ; but the first set to and examined me , and dressed my wound as before , while Hoseason looked me in my face with an odd , black look . `` Now , sir , you see for yourself , '' said the first : `` a high fever , no appetite , no light , no meat : you see for yourself what that means . '' `` I am no conjurer , Mr. Riach , '' said the captain .
`` Give me leave , sir , '' said XXXXX ; `` you 've a good head upon your shoulders , and a good Scotch tongue to ask with ; but I will leave you no manner of excuse ; I want that boy taken out of this hole and put in the forecastle . ''
* Ay Hoseason Riach Stroke betwixt conjurer fire left pannikin