eciate what you have done within the last few days,
and I believe what you have said in regard to yourself and your career.
All this, you may depend upon it, will operate powerfully with your
judges. But you know I cannot permit you to quit this vessel a _free
man_."

"I know it," said Gascoyne, calmly.

"And--and--" (here Montague stammered and came to an abrupt pause.)

"Say on, Captain Montague. I appreciate your generosity in feeling for
me thus; but I am prepared to meet whatever awaits me."

"It is necessary," resumed Montague, "that you should be manacled before
I take you on shore."

Gascoyne started. He had not thought of this. He had not fully
realised the fact that he was to be deprived of his liberty so soon. In
the merited indignity which was now to be put upon him, he recognised
the opening act of the tragedy which was to terminate with his life.

"Be it so," he said, lowering his head and sitting down on a carronade,
in order to avoid the gaze of those who surrounded him.

While this was being done, the youthful Corrie was in the fore-part of
the schooner whispering eagerly to Alice and Poopy.

"O Alice, I've seen him!" exclaimed the lad.

"Seen who?" inquired Alice, raising her pretty little eyebrows just the
smallest morsel.

"Why, the boatswain of the _Talisman_, Dick Price, you know, who jumped
overboard to save Henry when he fell off the raft. Come, I'll point him
out."

So saying, Corrie edged his way through the crowd until he could see the
windlass. Here, seated on a mass of chain cable, sat a remarkably
rugged specimen of the British boatswain. He was extremely short,
excessively broad, uncommonly jovial, and remarkably hairy. He wore his
round hat so far on the back of his head that it was a marvel how it
managed to hang there, and smoked a pipe so black that the most powerful
imagination could hardly conceive of its ever having been white, and so
short that it seemed all head and no stem.

"That's him!" said Corrie, eagerly.

"Oh! is it?" replied Alice, with much interest.

"Hee! hee!" observed Poopy.

"Stand by to let go the anchor," shouted Montague.

Instantly bustle and noise prevailed everywhere. The crew of the lost
frigate had started up on hearing the order, but having no stations to
run to, they expended the energy that had been awakened in shuffling
about and opening an animated conversation in under tones.

Soon the schooner swept round the point that h