Collected works > Edinburgh edition, 1894-98 - Works of Robert Louis Stevenson > Volume 20, 1896 - Travels and excursion, Volume III

THE EBB-TIDE
He was a thief among thieves. He said it to
himself. He could not touch the soup. If he had
moved at all, it must have been to leave the table,
throw himself overboard, and drown — an honest
man.
* Here,' said the captain, ' you look sick, old man ;
have a drop of this. '
The champagne creamed and bubbled in the mug ;
its bright colour, its lively effervescence, seized his
eye. 'It is too late to hesitate,' he thought; his
hand took the mug instinctively; he drank, with
unquenchable pleasure and desire of more ; drained
the vessel dry, and set it down with sparkling eyes.
' There is something in life after all ! ' he cried.
' I had forgot what it was like. Yes, even this
is worth while. Wine, food, dry clothes — why
they 're worth dying, worth hanging for ! Captain,
tell me one thing: why aren't all the poor folk
foot-pads ? '
' Give it up,' said the captain.
'They must be damned good,' cried Herrick.
' There 's something here beyond me. Think of that
calaboose! Suppose we were sent suddenly back.'
He shuddered as stung by a convulsion, and buried
his face in his clutching hands.
' Here, what 's wrong with you ? ' cried the cap-
tain. There was no reply ; only Herrick's shoulders
heaved, so that the table was shaken. ' Take some
more of this. Here, drink this. I order you to.
Don't start crying when you 're out of the wood.'
' I 'm not crying,' said Herrick, raising his face
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