“I am not
feeling very well to-night, though, and I should much prefer if you
would stay on the island.”

I saw a struggle between his fears and his duty upon the swarthy face of
the African. His skin had turned of that livid purplish tint which
stands for pallor in a negro, and his eyes looked furtively about him. “No, no, Massa Walker,” he cried, at last, “you better come to the hulk
with me, sah. Look after you much better in the hulk, sah!”

“That won’t do, Moussa. White men don’t run away from the posts where
they are placed.”

Again I saw the passionate struggle in the negro’s face, and again his
fears prevailed. “No use, Massa Walker, sah!” he cried. “S’elp me, I can’t do it. If it
was yesterday or if it was to-morrow, but this is the third night, sah,
an’ it’s more than I can face.”

Walker shrugged his shoulders. “Off with you then!” said he. “When the mail-boat comes you can get back
to Sierra Leone, for I’ll have no servant who deserts me when I need him
most. I suppose this is all mystery to you, or has the Doctor told you,
Captain Meldrum?”

“I showed Captain Meldrum the cooperage, but I did not tell him
anything,” said Dr. Severall. “You’re looking bad, Walker,” he added,
glancing at his companion. “You have a strong touch coming on you.”

“Yes, I’ve had the shivers all day, and now my head is like a
cannon-ball. I took ten grains of quinine, and my ears are singing like
a kettle. But I want to sleep with you in the cooperage to-night.”

“No, no, my dear chap. I won’t hear of such a thing. You must get to bed
at once, and I am sure Meldrum will excuse you. I shall sleep in the
cooperage, and I promise you that I’ll be round with your medicine
before breakfast.”

It was evident that Walker had been struck by one of those sudden and
violent attacks of remittent fever which are the curse of the West
Coast. His sallow cheeks were flushed and his eyes shining with fever,
and suddenly as he sat there he began to croon out a song in the
high-pitched voice of delirium. “Come, come, we must get you to bed, old chap,” said the Doctor, and
with my aid he led his friend into his bedroom. There we undressed him,
and presently, after taking a strong sedative, he settled down into a
deep slumber. “He’s right for the night,” said the Doctor, as we sat down and filled
our glasses once more. “Sometimes it is my turn and sometimes his, but,
fortunately, we have never been down together. I should have been sorry
to be out of it to-night, for I have a little mystery to unravel. I told
you that I intended to sleep in the cooperage.”

“Yes, you said so.”

“When I said sleep I meant watch, for there will be no sleep for me. We’ve had such a scare here that no native will stay after sundown, and
I mean to find out to-night what the cause of it all may be. It has
always been the custom for a native watchman to sleep in the cooperage,
to prevent the barrel hoops being stolen. Well, six days ago the fellow
who slept there disappeared, and we have never seen a trace of him
since. It was certainly singular, for no canoe had been taken, and these
waters are too full of crocodiles for any man to swim to shore. What
became of the fellow, or how he could have left the island is a complete
mystery. Walker and I were merely surprised, but the blacks were badly
scared, and queer Voodoo tales began to get about amongst them. But the
real stampede broke out three nights ago, when the new watchman in the
cooperage also disappeared.”

“What became of him?” I asked. “Well, we not only don’t know, but we can’t even give a guess which
would fit the facts. The niggers swear there is a fiend in the cooperage
who claims a man every third night. They wouldn’t stay in the
island—nothing could persuade them. Even Moussa, who is a faithful boy
enough, would, as you have seen, leave his master in a fever rather than
remain for the night. If we are to continue to run this place we must
reassure our niggers, and I don’t know any better way of doing it than
by putting in a night there myself. This is the third night, you see, so
I suppose the thing is due, whatever it may be.”

“Have you no clue?” I asked. “Was there no mark of violence, no
blood-stain, no footprints, nothing to give a hint as to what kind of
danger you may have to meet?”

“Absolutely nothing. The man was gone and that was all. Last time it was
old Ali, who has been wharf-tender here since the place was started. He
was always as steady as a rock, and nothing but foul play would take him
from his work.”

“Well,” said I, “I really don’t think that this is a one-man job. Your
friend is full of laudanum, and come what might he can be of no
assistance to you. You must let me stay and put in a night with you at
the cooperage.”

“Well, now, that’s very good of you, Meldrum,” said he heartily, shaking
my hand across the table. “It’s not a thing that I should have ventured
to propose, for it is asking a good deal of a casual visitor, but if you
really mean it——”

“Certainly I mean it. If you will excuse me a moment, I will hail the
_Gamecock_ and let them know that they need not expect me.”

As we came back from the other end of the little jetty we were both
struck by the appearance of the night. A huge blue-black pile of clouds
had built itself up upon the landward side, and the wind came from it in
little hot pants, which beat upon our faces like the draught from a
blast furnace. Under the jetty the river was swirling and hissing,
tossing little white spurts of spray over the planking. “Confound it!” said Doctor Severall. “We are likely to have a flood on
the top of all our troubles. That rise in the river means heavy rain
up-country, and when it once begins you never know how far it will go. We’ve had the island nearly covered before now. Well, we’ll just go and
see that Walker is comfortable, and then if you like we’ll settle down
in our quarters.”

The sick man was sunk in a profound slumber, and we left him with some
crushed limes in a glass beside him in case he should awake with the
thirst of fever upon him. Then we made our way through the unnatural
gloom thrown by that menacing cloud. The river had risen so high that
the little bay which I have described at the end of the island had
become almost obliterated through the submerging of its flanking
peninsula. The great raft of driftwood, with the huge black tree in the
middle, was swaying up and down in the swollen current. “That’s one good thing a flood will do for us,” said the Doctor. “It
carries away all the vegetable stuff which is brought down on to the
east end of the island. It came down with the freshet the other day, and
here it will stay until a flood sweeps it out into the main stream. Well, here’s our room, and here are some books, and here is my tobacco
pouch, and we must try and put in the night as best we may.”

By the light of our single lantern the great lonely room looked very
gaunt and dreary.