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Updated: May 19, 2025
Mackrill Smith, whose guest I am, brought me in a bamboo chair, carried by two coolies, through a covered and crowded street of merchandise six feet wide, to Shameen, the island in the river on which the foreigners reside; most of the missionary community, however, living in the buildings on the site of the old factory farther down.
I told him as we hastened back some of the facts of the case, and he brought his writing materials into the sick room and took down from the Major's own lips the words which would have the effect of dividing the old man's possessions between his two sons. Dr. Mackrill was now present; he stood on one side of the bed, his fingers on the dying man's pulse.
Mackrill, the Major's medical man; he used now and then to play whist with us on Saturday nights, and I stopped to speak to him. "Oh! you've come down again. That's all right!" he said. "Your friend wants someone to cheer him up. He's got his arm broken." "How on earth did he manage that?" I asked.
As the autumn wore on, we heard now and then from old Mackrill the doctor. His reports of the Major were pretty uniform. Derrick used to hand them over to me when he had read them; but, by tacit consent, the Major's name was never mentioned. Meantime, besides re-writing 'At Strife, he was accumulating material for his next book and working to very good purpose.
The planters had plenty of implements with which to catch fish "vtensils of the sea" "quoils of rope and cable, rondes of twine, herring nets, seans, cod-lines and cod hookes, mackrill-lines, drails, spiller hooks, mussel-hooks, mackrill hooks, barbels, splitting knives, sharks hookes, basse-nettes, pues and gaffs, squid lines, yeele pots," &c.
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