"Then this is the corpse of Boyd
Madras, and we'll bury it for him," he said with quick bluntness. "Do not
report this death to Captain Ascott--he would only raise objections to
the idea. This lascar was in my watch. It will be supposed he fell
overboard during the accident to the boat. Perhaps some day the funeral
of this nigger will be a sensation and surprise to her blessed ladyship
on deck."
I suggested that it seemed underhand and unprofessional, but the
entreating words of the resuscitated man in the next room conquered my
objections.
It was arranged that Madras should remain in the present cabin, of which
I had a key, until we reached Aden; then he should, by Hungerford's aid,
disappear.
We were conspirators, but we meant harm to nobody. I covered up the face
of the dead lascar and wrapped round him the scarlet and gold cloth that
Madras had worn. Then I got a sailor, who supposed Boyd Madras was before
him, and the body was soon sewed in its shotted shroud and carried to
where Stone the quartermaster lay.
At this day I cannot suppose I would do these things, but then it seemed
right to do as Madras wished: he was, under a new name, to begin life
afresh.
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