Adams, as he opened the packet and tossed
some of the papers to Stenhouse and Ford, "only about six months old.
Hallo, here's the name of the ship and captain I suppose, on one of
them:

Roger Fullerton, Esq., Ship _Ramillies_------"

"_What!_"

It was Stenhonse who spoke, and his usual cheerful voice now sounded
cracked and discordant, as with an oath he tore the paper from his
comrade's hand, read the name, and then sat down, with one hand pressed
to his sightless orb, his whole frame trembling from head to foot.

"What is the matter, Ted?" asked Ford anxiously.

Slowly he turned his face towards his comrades. It was white.

"Send them away," he said, "but tell them to call the others and get
ready. I am going down to the cape to-night, to that ship. I am going to
kill a man."

Ford looked at him wonderingly. Adams, who understood, spoke a few
whispered words to the natives, who quickly left the room.

"Tom."

"Yes, Ted."

"Are all the women and children asleep?"

Adams nodded, and Stenhouse silently motioned to him and Ford to be
seated. He remained standing.

"Jim Ford," he said quietly, "look at me"--he drew his hand down the
distorted side of his face--"and tell me what you would do to a man who
made you look like this."

"I would have his life if I swung for it."

"Well, I am going to have this man's life. I shall not be hanged for it,
but if I am killed, I look to you, Jim, and you Tom, to stand to my wife
and children."

Ford put out his hand impulsively: "All that I have I owe to you, Ted. I
will stand to 'em, so help me God."

"I knew you would. Now, only three people in the world besides me--Tom
Adams, my wife, and the man who did it--know what made me the blarsted
scarecrow I am; but as I may be a dead man by this time tomorrow, I'll
tell you."

He paused, and with his forefinger still pressed firmly on the name on
the newspaper, said slowly:--

"This man, Roger Fullerton, was a passenger on the _Mahratta_, East
Indiaman. I was his servant. We were bound to Sydney from Table Bay. He
was going out to be Commissary-General or something of that kind in New
South Wales. We had a rough, mutinous crew on board, and one night there
was a fight between them and the officers and passengers. They burst
into the cabin, and would have captured the ship but for the mate,
who shot one man dead and cut another down. I had nothing to do with
them--as God is my witness--for I was only a lad of ninet