ll," I cried, "how many prisoners?"

"Round dozen," he cried.

"Any one hurt?"

"Round dozen."

"I know, twelve prisoners," I said impatiently. "I asked you how many
were hurt."

"And I told you, stupid," he replied, "a round dozen."

"What! a man wounded for every prisoner?"

"That's it; and we shouldn't have taken any, the beggars were game for
fighting to the last, if Mr Brooke hadn't given the word for them to be
knocked on the head first with the thick end of the oars."

"To stun them?"

"Yes; and our lads got so savage after seeing their mates stabbed when
trying to save the brutes' lives, that they hit as hard as they could.
They killed two of 'em, or we should have had fourteen."

"How horrid!"

"Horrid? Why, I enjoyed it," said my messmate. "When I saw poor old
Blacksmith--"

"What!" I cried excitedly, "he isn't hurt?"

"Not hurt? why, one yellow-faced savage, when poor old Smithy held out
his hand to pull him aboard, took hold of his wrist, and then reached up
and stuck his knife right through the poor old chap's arm, and left it
there."

"Poor old Smithy!" I cried huskily, and a choking sensation rose in my
throat. "I must go and see him."

"No, you mustn't. I've just been, and they sent me away."

"But where is he?"

"Doctor's got him, and been mending him up. He has gone to sleep now."

"Was he very bad?"

"Stick a stocking-needle through your arm, and then square it, cube it,
add decimal nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and
then see how you feel."

"Poor old boy!" I said; "I am sorry."

"Well, so am I," said Barkins sourly; "but I don't keep on howling."

"Did they take the blackguard prisoner?"

"Well, they did, and hauled him aboard, but he was no good, and they
pitched him overboard again."

"Why?" I said wonderingly.

"Why! because he was dead. Bob Saunders, that red-haired chap, was in
the stern-sheets helping to catch the beggars with hitches, and as soon
as he saw the big yellow-faced wretch stick his knife into poor old
Blacksmith, he let drive at the brute with the boat-hook, twisted it in
his frock, and held him under water. He didn't mean to, but he was
savage at what he had seen, for the lads like Smithy, and he held the
beggar under water too long."

I shuddered, and thought of the man being bayoneted from our boat, and
Mr Grey's narrow escape.

"Your fellows behaved better, I s'pose?" said Barkins.

"Not a bit," I said.