escending to what is called
claptrap; and there are so many people in our narrative continually
labouring under deception of one kind or another, that we need not add
to it by attempting to mystify our readers; who, on the contrary, we
shall take with us familiarly by the hand, and, like a faithful
historian, lead them through the events in the order in which they
occurred, and point out to them how they all lead to one common end.
With this intention in view, we shall now follow the fortunes of
Smallbones, whom we left floundering in about seven fathoms water.

The weather was warm, even sultry, as we said before; but
notwithstanding which, and notwithstanding he was a very tolerable
swimmer, considering that he was so thin, Smallbones did not like it. To
be awoke out of a profound sleep, and all of a sudden to find yourself
floundering out of your depth about half a mile from the nearest land,
is anything but agreeable; the transition is too rapid. Smallbones
descended a few feet before he could divest himself of the folds of the
Flustering coat which he had wrapped himself up in. It belonged to
Coble, he had purchased it at a sale-shop on the Point for seventeen
shillings and sixpence, and, moreover, it was as good as new. In
consequence of this delay below water-mark, Smallbones had very little
breath left in his body when he rose to the surface, and he could not
inflate his lungs so as to call loud until the cutter had walked away
from him at least one hundred yards, for she was slipping fast through
the water, and another minute plainly proved to Smallbones that he was
left to his own resources.

At first, the lad had imagined that it was an accident, and that the
rope had given way with his weight; but when he found that no attention
was paid to his cries, he then was convinced that it was the work of Mr
Vanslyperken.

"By _gum_, he's a done for me at last. Well, I don't care, I can die but
once, that's sartin sure; and he'll go to the devil, that's
sartin sure."

And Smallbones, with this comfortable assurance, continued to strike out
for the land, which, indeed, he had but little prospect of ever making.

"A shame for to come for to go to murder a poor lad three or four times
over," sputtered Smallbones, after a time, feeling his strength fail
him. He then turned on his back, to ease his arms.

"I can't do it no how, I sees that," said Smallbones, "so I may just as
well go down like a dipsey lead."

Bu