e of flesh. Now Eric knew for the first time the awful reality
of intense pain; he had determined to utter no sound, to give no sign;
but when the horrible rope fell on him, griding across his back, and
making his body literally creak under the blow, he quivered like an
aspen-leaf in every limb, and could not suppress the harrowing murmur,
"O God, help me, help me."

Again the rope whistled in the air, again it grided across the boy's
naked back, and once more the crimson furrow bore witness to the violent
laceration. A sharp shriek of inexpressible agony rang from his lips,
so shrill, so heart-rending, that it sounded long in the memory of all
who heard it. But the brute who administered the torture was untouched.
Once more, and again, the rope rose and fell, and under its marks the
blood first dribbled, and then streamed from the white and tender skin.

But Eric felt no more; that scream had been the last effort of nature;
his head had dropped on his bosom, and though his limbs still seemed to
creep at the unnatural infliction, he had fainted away.

"Stop, master, stop, if you don't want to kill the boy outright," said
Roberts, one of the crew, stepping forward, while the hot flush of
indignation burned through his tanned and weather-beaten cheek. The
sailors called him "Softy Bob," from that half-gentleness of disposition
which had made him, alone of all the men, speak one kind or consoling
word for the proud and lonely cabin-boy.

"Undo him then, and be damned," growled the skipper, and rolled off to
drink himself drunk.

"I doubt he's well-nigh done for him already," said Roberts, quickly
untying Eric's hands, round which the cords had been pulled so tight as
to leave two blue rings round his wrists. "Poor fellow, poor fellow!
it's all over now," he murmured soothingly, as the boy's body fell
motionless into his arms, which he hastily stretched to prevent him from
tumbling on the deck.

But Eric heard not and the man, touched with the deepest pity, carried
him down tenderly into his hammock, and wrapped him up in a clean
blanket, and sat by him till the swoon should be over.

It lasted very long, and the sailor began to fear that his words had
been prophetic.

"How is the young varmint?" shouted the skipper, looking into the
forecastle.

"You've killed him, I think."

The only answer was a volley of oaths; but the fellow was sufficiently
frightened to order Roberts to do all he could for his patien