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 CHAPTER XXVI

ISRAEL HANDS

wind, serving us to a desire now, hauled into the west. We could run so much the easier from the northwest corner of the island to the mouth of the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor, and dared not beach her until the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our hands. The cockswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence, over another meal.

"Cap'n," said he, at length, with that same uncomfortable smile, "here's my old shipmate, O'Brien; s'pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain't partic'lar, as a rule, and I don't take no blame for settling his hash; but I don't reckon him ornamental, now, do you?"

"I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the job; and there he lies, for me," said I.

"This here's an unlucky ship—the Hispaniola, Jim," he went on, blinking. "There's a power of men been killed in this Hispaniola—a sight 0' poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to Bristol. I never seen such dirty luck, not I. There was this here O'Brien, now—he's dead, ain't he? Well, now, I'm no scholar, and you're a lad as can read and figure; and, to 220