on."

"Your friend the Count, sir! His scientific expedition!" snarled the
skipper. "Do you call old Bony a scientific expedition?"

"I don't understand you, captain."

"Then here you have it, sir, plain. Your friend the Count is a Bony
party, and as the French Government knew what game he was on and tried
to stop him from running out of Havre, when he come upon us and found
out what we were doing, `Here's my man,' he says; `I will just creep
under his cloak and carry on my little game to carry off Bony. No one
will suspect me if I am in good company, and on what he calls scientific
research.' Consekens, here's you, sir, off the island of Saint Helena
in co and company with this 'ere Bony party come to carry off and set
free the man of all others you hate most in the world. Now you
understand what you have come to do."

"I'll be hanged if I have!" cried the doctor, bringing his fist down
with a tremendous thump upon the table, making one of the bottles leap
up, fall over upon its side, and discharge its stopper at Rodd, who
fielded it cleverly, though the contents--gelatinous infusoria and
spirit of wine--were scattered all over the map.

"That's spoke like you, sir," cried the skipper; "but you needn't have
spoiled my chart."

"Confound your chart, man! Here, Rodney, you hear all this? Do you
think it's true?"

"No, uncle, I can't."

"Neither can I, sir. I cannot. I will not. You, Captain Chubb, you
mean well, I know, but--Oh, it's outrageous! That I, Paul Robson, a man
of my sentiments, should come to do such a disloyal thing as this--
this--this--this treachery against my country and my King! Here,
Captain Chubb, are you mad, or--"

"Drunk, sir? Say it out. I don't mind. It does me good to see you
come to your senses like this. Brayvo, sir! That's the way to take
it."

"Oh, uncle!" panted Rodd.

"You let him alone, sir. He's all right," cried the skipper. "I've
stuck the harpoon into him. You give him line, and you'll see we shall
have him in his flurry directly."

"Stop, man! Where are your proofs?"

"Yes," cried Rodd, stamping excitedly about the cabin; "where are your
proofs?"

"Proofs?" said the skipper. "I d'know. Yes, I do. You ask the Count
to his face, and his boy with him, whether what I say aren't true."

"Yes," cried the doctor. "Go on deck, and take that confounded speaking
trumpet of yours. Hail the brig, and ask the Count to come on board."

"Yes--with hi