well? You'd best lay aft for a dose o' salts at four bells to-night."
"No, cap'n," said the man, "there's no salts'll ever cure my sickness."
"Why, what's all this?" says the old man. "You must be sick if it's as bad as all that. But come now; your cheek is all sunk, and you look as if you ain't slept well. What is it ails you, anyway? Have you anything on your mind?"
"Captain," he answers very solemn, "I have sold my soul to the devil."
"Oh," said the old man, "why that's bad. That's powerful bad. I never thought them sort of things ever happened outside a book."
"But," said our friend, "that's not the worst of it, Captain. At this time three days hence the devil will fetch me home."
"Good Lord!" groaned the old man; "Here's a nice hurrah's nest to happen aboard my ship. But come now," he went on, "did the devil give you no chance—no saving-clause like? Just think quietly for a moment."
"Yes, Captain," said our friend, "just when I made the deal, there came a whisper in my ear.
