anniversary of my wife's death," said Mr. Sloper, "and a
day of rejoicing with me and my friends."

Bob, who himself was a married man, loving his wife and two little
girls with the warm affection of the genuine sailor's heart, looked
for some moments speechless with disgust at the white shadowy
countenance of Mr. Sloper, and without deigning another word, rose
through the hatch, which he carefully secured, and then went aft to
old Joe and Plum to report what had passed.

"Smite me," cried the old man-of-warsman, after listening to Bob; "but
if this was furrin parts instead of Lunnon river, poisoned if I
wouldn't yard-arm the little faggot in rale earnest. What! make a
joyful hanniversary of his wife's death, and fire off guns that the
whole blooming country may know what a little beast it is. Sit ye
down, Bob, there's a glass--help yourself. This is what we mean to
do," and he forthwith related his scheme for the morning to Robins and
Plum.

They smoked hard and roared out in great peals of laughter. The
bulkheads of a little ship such as the _Tom Bowling_ are not, as may
be supposed, of very formidable scantling; there is no doubt that
Sloper in the hold heard these wild shouts of laughter which the
muffling of the bulkhead and his own terrors would render awful to him,
and we may be sure that as he lay in the blackness harkening to those
horrid notes of merriment, he feared and perspired exceedingly.

Somewhere at about eight o'clock next morning the _Tom Bowling_ was
got under way, and when all hands had breakfasted, Joe Westlake took
the tiller, and Plum, Robins, and Tuck went to work to construct the
machinery for the retired tailor's execution. They filled a big tub
with water and covered it loosely with a tarpaulin. Close against this
tub they placed a three-legged stool; alongside this stool upon the
deck was a tar-bucket with a tar-brush sticking up in it; they also
procured and placed beside this tar-bucket a piece of rough iron hoop.
At the time that these preparations were completed the cutter was
running through the Warp, which is some little distance past the Nore
Light. The river had widened into the aspect of an ocean, and over the
bows of the craft the water stretched boundless and blue as the
horizon of the Pacific.

They opened the hatch and brought the tailor on deck. Needless to say,
he had not slept a wink all night. Who, accustomed to a feather-bed,
could snatch even ten minutes' sleep when