"We stifle ev'ry cry, Ev'ry cry, ev'ry cry, We stifle ev'ry cry, Captain Death! And then we spread our sails, that are filled with welcome gales, Singing, 'Dead men tell no tales, Captain Death! Captain Death!' Singing, 'Dead men tell no tales, Captain Death!'"
The surgeon shuddered as he collected together his instruments, and with a heart full of anxiety for the fate of himself and his companions proceeded to his cabin.
The Albatross was within a day's sail of the shores of Madagascar, and as both Oriel Porphyry, Zabra, the professor, and the doctor, appeared desirous of giving their captors no cause of offence, they were better treated than they expected to have been. Zabra, more than all the others, seemed anxious to please the captain and his lieutenant; and the kindness of his disposition and the beauty of his music in a short time had such an influence upon their savage natures that their former distrust was completely obliterated, and they entertained something like a friendly feeling towards him. But Zabra had evidently some object in the course he was pursuing. He allowed no opportunity to escape by which he might win their confidence. He was continually doing some obliging offices for their gratification. He seemed to take a pleasure in their bold way of life, joined with them in its praise, and shared with them in its enjoyments. He handled their weapons with an air of bravery, and learned from them to shoot at a mark, and to cut and thrust with the sword; and there was such a loftiness in the enthusiasm he manifested on these occasions, that they invariably treated him with more respect than any of his fellow captives. But a close observer might have noticed that he often turned aside to conceal the disgust he entertained. When not within the observation of the pirates, his dark eyes flashed with indignation, and his beautiful mouth was compressed into an expression of scorn. He looked proudly around him, as if his spirit was exalted above the meaner natures with whom he was obliged to mingle. He loathed their fellowship. He abhorred their ways. And often, when the feeling of disdain with which he regarded these men seemed about to break forth into open acknowledgment, a glance towards the place where Oriel Porphyry stood, striving to control the contempt and hatred for the whole crew of ruffians, of whom he was a prisoner, that kept darting from his eyes, appeared sufficient to induce him to redouble his exertions to please the pirate chiefs.