stands ower t' hatches, and he has two good pistols, and summut
besides, and he don't care for his life, bein' a bachelor, but all
below are married men, yo' see, and he'll put an end to t' first two
chaps as come near t' hatches. An' they say he picked two off as
made for t' come near, and then, just as he were stooping for t'
whaling knife, an' it's as big as a sickle----'

'Teach folk as don't know a whaling knife,' cried Daniel. 'I were a
Greenland-man mysel'.'

'They shot him through t' side, and dizzied him, and kicked him
aside for dead; and fired down t' hatches, and killed one man, and
disabled two, and then t' rest cried for quarter, for life is sweet,
e'en aboard a king's ship; and t' _Aurora_ carried 'em off, wounded
men, an' able men, an' all: leaving Kinraid for dead, as wasn't
dead, and Darley for dead, as was dead, an' t' captain and master's
mate as were too old for work; and t' captain, as loves Kinraid like
a brother, poured rum down his throat, and bandaged him up, and has
sent for t' first doctor in Monkshaven for to get t' slugs out; for
they say there's niver such a harpooner in a' t' Greenland seas; an'
I can speak fra' my own seeing he's a fine young fellow where he
lies theere, all stark and wan for weakness and loss o' blood. But
Darley's dead as a door-nail; and there's to be such a burying of
him as niver was seen afore i' Monkshaven, come Sunday. And now gi'
us t' iron, wench, and let's lose no more time a-talking.'

'It's noane loss o' time,' said Daniel, moving himself heavily in
his chair, to feel how helpless he was once more. 'If a were as
young as once a were--nay, lad, if a had na these sore rheumatics,
now--a reckon as t' press-gang 'ud find out as t' shouldn't do such
things for nothing. Bless thee, man! it's waur nor i' my youth i'
th' Ameriky war, and then 't were bad enough.'

'And Kinraid?' said Sylvia, drawing a long breath, after the effort
of realizing it all; her cheeks had flushed up, and her eyes had
glittered during the progress of the tale.

'Oh! he'll do. He'll not die. Life's stuff is in him yet.'

'He'll be Molly Corney's cousin, I reckon,' said Sylvia, bethinking
her with a blush of Molly Corney's implication that he was more than
a cousin to her, and immediately longing to go off and see Molly,
and hear all the little details which women do not think it beneath
them to give to women. From that time Sylvia's little heart was bent
on this purpose. But it was