ertainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any
ultimate escape.

Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the _Hispaniola_ struck,
staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then, swift as a blow,
canted over to the port side, till the deck stood at an angle of
forty-five degrees, and about a puncheon of water splashed into the
scupper holes, and lay, in a pool, between the deck and bulwark.

We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled, almost
together, into the scuppers; the dead red-cap, with his arms still spread
out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we, indeed, that my head
came against the coxswain's foot with a crack that made my teeth rattle.
Blow and all, I was the first afoot again; for Hands had got involved
with the dead body. The sudden canting of the ship had made the deck no
place for running on; I had to find some new way of escape, and that upon
the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as thought I sprang
into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, and did not draw
breath till I was seated on the cross-trees.

I had been saved by being prompt; the dirk had struck not half a foot
below me, as I pursued my upward flight; and there stood Israel Hands
with his mouth open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect statue of
surprise and disappointment.

Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing the priming
of my pistol, and then, having one ready for service, and to make
assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other, and
recharge it afresh from the beginning.

My new employment struck Hands all of a heap; he began to see the dice
going against him; and after an obvious hesitation, he also hauled
himself heavily into the shrouds, and, with the dirk in his teeth, began
slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of time and groans to
haul his wounded leg behind him; and I had quietly finished my
arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then,
with a pistol in either hand, I addressed him.

"One more step, Mr. Hands," said I, "and I'll blow your brains out! Dead
men don't bite, you know," I added, with a chuckle.

He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face that he was
trying to think, and the process was so slow and laborious that, in my
new-found security, I laughed aloud. At last, with a swallow or two, he
spoke, his face still wearing the same expres