o her cottage, and, throwing
herself on her bed, burst into an agony of tears and prayer.

But there were some among the European settlers there who, now that
things had come to a point, felt ill at ease, and would fain have washed
their hands of the whole affair. Others there were who judged the man
from his countenance and his acts, not from circumstances. These
remonstrated even to the last, and advised delay. But the half dozen
who were set upon the man's death--not to gratify a thirst for blood,
but to execute due justice on a pirate whom they abhorred--were
influential and violent, men. They silenced all opposition at last, and
John Bumpus finally had the noose put round, his neck.

"O Susan, Susan," cried the poor man in an agony of intense feeling,
"it's little ye thought your Jo would come to such an end as this when
ye last sot eyes on him--an' sweet blue eyes they wos, too!"

There was something ludicrous as well as pathetic in this cry. It did
more for him than the most eloquent pleading could have done. Man, in a
crowd, is an unstable being. At any moment he will veer right round and
run in an opposite direction. The idea that the condemned man had a
Susan who would mourn over his untimely end, touched a cord in the
hearts of many among the crowd. The reference to her sweet blue eyes at
such a moment raised a smile, and an extremely dismal but opportune howl
from poor Toozle raised a laugh.

Bumpus started and looked sternly on the crowd.

"You may think me a pirate," said he, "but I know enough of the feelin's
of honest men to expect no mercy from those wot can laugh at a
fellow-creetur in such an hour. You had better get the murder over as
soon as ye can. I am ready--Stay! one moment more. I had a'most forgot
it. There's a letter here that I want one o' you to take charge of.
It's the last I ever got from my Susan, an' if I had taken her advice to
let alone havin' to do with all sandalwood traders, I'd never ha' bin in
such a fix as I am this day. I want it sent back to her with my
blessin' and a lock o' my hair. Is there an honest man among ye who'll
take in hand to do this for me?"

As he spoke, a young man, in a costume somewhat resembling that of a
sailor, pushed through the crowd, leaped upon the deal table on which Jo
stood, and removed the noose from his neck.

An exclamation of anger burst from those who surrounded the table, but a
sound something like applause broke from the