"Poor Hughie." Captain Oleson offered him some whisky.
"Couldn't think of it--perforation, you know," Sheldon said.
He sent for a boss-boy and ordered a grave to be dug, also some of the packing-cases to be knocked together into a coffin.

The blacks did not get coffins.

They were buried as they died, being carted on a sheet of galvanized iron, in their nakedness, from the hospital to the hole in the ground.

Having given the orders, Sheldon lay back in his chair with closed eyes.
"It's ben fair hell, sir," Captain Oleson began, then broke off to help himself to more whisky.

"It's ben fair hell, Mr.Sheldon, I tell you.
Contrary winds and calms.