“This here’s an unlucky ship⁠—the Hispaniola , Jim,” he went on, blinking. “There’s a power of men been killed in this Hispaniola ⁠—a sight o’ poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to Bristol. I never seen such dirty luck, not I. There was this here O’Brien, now⁠—he’s dead, ain’t he? Well, now, I’m no scholar, and you’re a lad as can read and figure; and, to put it straight, do you take it as a dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?”

“You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know that already,” I replied. “O’Brien, there, is in another world, and may be watching us.”