very gently, nayther."

"Then the--" began Mark, but he did not finish. "That's it, sir.
You've hit it. The Yankee captain come back from up the river somewhere
in his boat as quiet as you please, and the first I knowed on it was
that it was dark as pitch as I leaned my back against the bulwarks, and
stood whistling softly, when--_bang_, I got it on the head, and as I
went down three or four of 'em climbed aboard. `What's that? You
there, Fillot?' I heered in a dull sort o' way, and then the poor
lufftenant went down with a groan, and same moment I hears a scrufflin'
forrard and aft, cracks o' the head, and falls. Minute arter there was
a row going on in the fo'c's'le. I heered that plain, sir, and wanted
to go and help my mates, but when I was half up, seemed as if my head
begun to spin like a top, and down I went again, and lay listening to
the row below. There was some fighting, and I heered Joe Dance letting
go awful. My, he did swear for a minute, and then he was quiet, and
there was a bit o' rustling, and I hears a voice say, `Guess that's all.
Show the light.' Then there seemed to me to be a light walking about
the deck with a lot o' legs, and I knowed that they were coming round
picking up the pieces. Sure enough they was, sir, and they pitched all
the bits of us overboard into a boat alongside; and I knowed we hadn't
half kept our watch, and the Yankee skipper had come back and took his
schooner."

"Oh, Tom Fillot!" groaned Mark. "And was that all?"

"No, sir; for I heered the skipper say, `Anyone been in the cabin?' And
when no one spoke he began to cuss 'em for a set o' idgits, and they all
went below with the lanthorn, and come up again along o' you. My word,
Mr Vandean, sir, how you must have slep'!"

"Oh, Tom Fillot!" cried Mark again.

"Yes, and it is `Oh, Tom Fillot,' sir," groaned the poor fellow. "My
skull's cracked in three or four places sure as a gun."

"And the others. Oh! the others. Are they killed?"

"I dunno, sir. I ain't--not quite. Sims to me that they'd got bats,
and they hit us with 'em like they do the pigs in the north country, or
the cod-fish aboard the fishing smacks. My poor head feels as if it's
opening and shutting like a fish's gills every time I moves my mouth."

"Are all the men here, Tom?"

"Yes, sir; I think so. If they're not, it's 'cause they're dead."

"This is Mr Russell; I can feel his uniform," whispered Mark; "and he's
dead--no, I can feel