ing else in the meantime."

"That will not be a very pleasant cruise," replied Jack. "Now let's
argue the point on the other side."

"There is some difficulty there--suppose we throw their bodies
overboard, toss the baskets after them, wash the boat clean, and make
for the first port. We may chance to hit upon the very spot from which
they sailed, and then there will be a pack of wives and children, and a
populace with knives, asking us what has become of the men of the boat."

"I don't much like the idea of that," said Jack.

"And if we don't have such bad luck, still we shall be interrogated as
to who we are, and how we were adrift by ourselves."

"There will be a difficulty about that again--we must swear that it is a
party of pleasure, and that we are gentlemen yachting."

"Without a crew or provisions--yachts don't sail with a clean-swept
hold, or gentlemen without a spare shirt--we have nothing but two
gallons of water and two pairs of pistols."

"I have it," said Jack--"we are two young gentlemen in our own boat who
went out to Gozo with pistols to shoot sea-mews, were caught in a gale,
and blown down to Sicily--that will excite interest."

"That's the best idea yet, as it will account for our having nothing in
the boat. Well then, at all events, we will get rid of the bodies; but
suppose they are not dead--we cannot throw them overboard alive--that
will be murder."

"Very true," replied Jack; "then we must shoot them first, and toss them
overboard afterwards."

"Upon my soul, Easy, you are an odd fellow: however, go and examine the
men, and we'll decide that point by-and-bye--you had better keep your
pistol ready cocked for they may be shamming."

"Devil a bit of sham here, anyhow," replied Jack, pulling at the body of
the padrone, "and as for this fellow you shot, you might put your fist
into his chest. Now for the third," continued Jack, stepping over the
strengthening piece--"he's all among the baskets. I say, my cock, are
you dead?" and Jack enforced his question with a kick in the ribs. The
man groaned. "That's unlucky, Gascoigne, but, however, I'll soon settle
him," said Jack, pointing his pistol.

"Stop, Jack," cried Gascoigne, "it really will be murder."

"No such thing, Ned; I'll just blow his brains out, and then I'll come
aft and argue the point with you."

"Now do oblige me by coming aft and arguing the point first. Do, Jack,
I beg of you--I entreat you."

"With all my heart