ered themselves doubly so, by putting on broad belts with
pistols therein, and tucking up their sleeves to the shoulders, thereby
displaying their brawny arms as if they had dirty work before them.
This strange metamorphosis was finally completed when Manton, with his
own hands, ran up to the peak of the mainsail a bright scarlet flag with
the single word "AVENGER" on it in large black letters.

During one of those lulls in the breeze to which we have referred, and
while the smooth ocean glowed in the mellow light that ushered in the
day, the attention of those on board the _Avenger_ (as we shall call the
double-faced schooner when under red colours) was attracted to one of
the more distant cliffs, on the summit of which human beings appeared to
be moving.

"Hand me that glass," said Manton to one of the men beside him. "I
shouldn't wonder if the niggers were up to some mischief there. Ah!
just so," he exclaimed, adjusting the telescope a little more correctly,
and again applying it to his eye. "They seem to be scuffling on the top
of yonder precipice. Now there's one fellow down; but it's so far off
that I can't make out clearly what they're about. I say, Mr Scraggs,
get the other glass and take a squint at them--you are farther sighted
than I am."

"You're right; they are killin' one another up yonder," observed
Scraggs, surveying the group on the cliffs with calm indifference.

"Here comes the breeze," exclaimed Manton, with a look of satisfaction.
"Now, look alive, lads; we shall be close on the nigger village in five
minutes--it's just round the point of this small island close ahead.
Come, Mr Scraggs, we've other business on hand just now than squinting
at the scrimmages of these fellows."

"Hold on," cried Scraggs with a grin; "I do believe they're going to
pitch a feller over that cliff. What a crack he'll come down into the
water with, to be sure. It's to be hoped the poor man is dead, for his
own sake, before he takes that flight. Hallo!" added Scraggs with an
energetic shout and a look of surprise, "I say, that's one of _our_ men;
I know him by his striped flannel shirt. If he would only give up
kicking for a second I'd make out his--humph! it's all up with him now,
poor fellow, whoever he is."

As he said the last words, the figure of a man was seen to shoot out
from the cliff, and, descending with ever increasing rapidity, to strike
the water with terrific violence, sending up a jet of white