boat,
assisted with the greatest care and attention by the boatswain and
another of Spike's confidents. When on the second thwart from aft, and
about to take her seat, the boatswain cast a look behind him, and
Spike put the helm down. The boat luffed and lurched, of course, and
Mrs. Budd would probably have gone overboard to leeward, by so sudden
and violent a change, had not the impetus thus received been aided by
the arms of the men who held her two hands. The plunge she made into
the water was deep, for she was a woman of great weight for her
stature. Still, she was not immediately gotten rid of. Even at that
dread instant, it is probable that the miserable woman did not suspect
the truth, for she grasped the hand of the boatswain with the tenacity
of a vice, and, thus dragged on the surface of the boiling surges, she
screamed aloud for Spike to save her. Of all who had yet been
sacrificed to the captain's selfish wish to save himself, this was the
first instance in which any had been heard to utter a sound, after
falling into the sea. The appeal shocked even the rude beings around
her, and Biddy chiming in with a powerful appeal to "save the missus!"
added to the piteous nature of the scene.

"Cast off her hand," said Spike reproachfully, "she'll swamp the boat
by her struggles--get rid of her at once! Cut her fingers off if she
wont let go."

The instant these brutal orders were given, and that in a fierce,
impatient tone, the voice of Biddy was heard no more. The truth forced
itself on her dull imagination, and she sat a witness of the terrible
scene, in mute despair. The struggle did not last long. The boatswain
drew his knife across the wrist of the hand that grasped his own, one
shriek was heard, and the boat plunged into the trough of a sea,
leaving the form of poor Mrs. Budd struggling with the wave on its
summit, and amid the foam of its crest. This was the last that was
ever seen of the unfortunate relict.

"The boat has gained a good deal by that last discharge of cargo,"
said Spike to the boatswain, a minute after they had gotten rid of the
struggling woman--"she is much more lively, and is getting nearer to
her load-line. If we can bring her to _that_, I shall have no fear of
the man-of-war's men; for this yawl is one of the fastest boats that
ever floated."

"A very little _now_, sir, would bring us to our true trim."

"Ay, we must get rid of more cargo. Come, good woman," turning to
Biddy, with