Stitches
I quickly got a fever from my arm and I lay in sweat below deck. On the day Doctor Maturin had to cut off my infected arm, Peter was there, of course.
I lay quietly but a noise startled me and I spoke my thoughts.
"Is it true how they put the last stitch through your nose?"
He looked at me. "What do you mean?"
"Old Joe told me that when you die, they stitch you up in your hammock with the last stitch through your nose. Just to make sure you're not asleep." I kept my eyes on him and thought how heavenly he looked by the candle light. I knew that God loved him and had taken no offense from Peter's feelings and actions. "But not through the nose," I said. "You'll tell them?"
He nodded. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
I awoke when I was moved, and wished I hadn't when I saw it was time for my arm to go. . .