The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 303: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

298 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. “* Better—much better; I don’t think I shall die yet.” “Of course not; but the money. They are all on deck now, looking at the gambols of that infernal shark, which is still playing about the ship. I wonder,” added the fellow, ‘‘if it is one of the Forresters or, as the old sailor said, a dead fish ?”’ At Flin’s request, Ben raised him from the berth: he was so weak that he could scarcely stand, but the violence of his spasm was abated, his eyes were less wild, and his conversation, characterised by its usual cunning, which, in some men, stands in lieu of sense. ‘* Now help me to walk a little—there that will do; my limbs are as weak as a child’s.” Leaning upon Ben, the sick man tottered along the hold till he reached the companion-ladder, which led to the deck. From real or pretended exhaustion, he sunk, half-famting, upon the step. ‘¢ You will tire yourself,” growled Ben. ‘“ But come —the money.” “ Well, if I must, give me your knife ?” The speaker knew that his companion had left it on the bed; the well-feigned reluctance with which he asked for it might have deceived a ‘shrewder head than Ben’s—he walked back to the berth to fetch it, leaving Flin on the bottom step of the ladder: when he re- turned, he was on the top one. Naturally of a suspicious temper, he did not choose to be left alone with the partner of his crime after he COniiclooecl SS (SO