ignantly. "Harkye here,
messmates; I says as chaps as'd half kill such a orficer as Mr Russell,
who's as fine a gen'leman as ever stepped, 'd murder a King as soon as
look at him."

"Ay, ay," came in a low growl.

"And if any o' you thinks different to my sentiments, let him speak out
like a man."

"That's what we all think, messmet," came in another growl.

"And there you are, sir, and them's fax. They chucked them two pore
chaps overboard, and, speaking up for my messmates and self, I says we
don't hold with killing nobody 'cept in the name of dooty; but here's a
set o' miserable beggars as goes about buying and selling the pore
niggers, and treating 'em worse than they would a box o' worms to go
fishing with. Why, it's murder, sir, wholesale, retail, and for
exportation, as the man said over his shop door in our town o' Bristol,
and if we can only get at 'em--well, I won't say what we'll do, but if
there ain't some fatal accidents that day, my name ain't Tom."

"That's so, messmet--that's so," came in another deep growl.

"It's horrible, horrible," groaned Mark; and he bent over Mr Russell's
face, and tried to make out whether there was any sign of returning
consciousness.

"At a time like this, messmets," whispered Tom Fillot to those nearest
to him, "I'd be quiet. Mr Vandean's in a deal of trouble about the
lufftenant."

"Hi! all on you," came sharply from the forward part of the boat, which
rocked a little from some one changing his position; and as it rocked
tiny waves of light like liquid moonbeams flowed away to starboard and
port, while dull sparks of light appeared in the water down below.

"What's the matter there?" said Mark, rousing himself up to speak. "Be
silent, and keep the boat still."

"Ay, ay," growled Tom Fillot, but the boat still swayed.

"Do you hear there?" cried Mark, sharply. "Who's that?"

"Hi! all on you!" came again.

"Did you hear my order, Dance?" cried Mark. "Sit down, man. Do you
want to capsize the boat?"

"I want my hitcher," said the man, sharply. "Who's been a-meddling with
my boathook? it ain't in its place."

"Sit down, man. This is not the first cutter, but one of the schooner's
boats. Your boathook is not here."

"Do you hear, all on you? I want my hitcher. Some on you's been and
hidden it for a lark. Give it here."

"Are you deaf, Dance?" cried Mark, angrily. "How dare you, sir! Sit
down."

"I know," continued the man, who was tumbling a