THE TURTLER’S STORY. 137 
to put out the flames, but after a draught af 
strong spirits became more composed. I tried to 
staunch the blood that flowed from the deep gashes 
in his shoulders and side. I expressed my re 
gret that I had no food about me, but when 1 
spoke of eating he sullenly moved his head. 
My situation was one of the most ,extraordi- 
nary I had ever been placed in. I naturally 
turned my talk towards religious subjects, but, 
alas, the dying man hardly believed in the exist- 
ence of a God. “Friend,” said he, “for friend 
you seem to be; I never studied the ways of 
Him of whom you talk. I am an outlaw, per 
haps you will say a wretch,—I have been for 
many years a pirate. The instructions of my 
parents were of no avail to me, for I always be 
lieved I was born to be a most cruel man. 1 
now lie here about to die midst these woods, be- 
cause, long ago, I refused to listen to their many 
admonitions. Do not shudder when I tell you 
these now useless hands murdered the mother 
whom they had embraced. I feel I have de- 
served the pangs of the wretched death that 
novers over me, and I am thankful that only 
one of my kind will witness my last gaspings.” 
A feeble hope that I might save his life, and 
perhaps assist in procuring his pardon, induced 
me to speak to him on the subject. “It is all 
in vain, friend—I have no objection to die—I 
12* 
