s
the lad to make this yer cock crow. See now--a good, sharp knife
'neath the finger or toe-nails--drew slow, mates, slow! Or a hot iron
close agen his eyes is good. Or boiling water poured in his yeres
might serve. Then--aha, Cap'n! I know a dainty little trick, a small
cord, d'ye see, twisted athwart his head just a-low the brows, twisted
and twisted--as shall start his eyes out right pretty to behold. I
mind too as Lollonais had a trick o' bursting a man's guts wi' water--"

"Bring him to the beach yonder!" says Tressady, watching me ever with
his pale eyes, "There shall be more room for't yonder!"

So they hailed me along betwixt them, and with huge merriment; but
scarce were we out of the cove and hard beside Bartlemy's tree than I
started to the vicious prick of a knife, and whirling about despite the
fierce hands that sought to hold me, I saw Smiling Sam about to stab me
again. But now, as I strove with my reeling captors, was a flicker of
vicious steel as Tressady sprang and, whipping his hook beneath the
great fellow's belt, whirled Smiling Sam from his feet despite his
prodigious weight and forthwith trampled upon him.

"So-ho, my merry lad!" quoth Tressady, glaring down into Smiling Sam's
convulsed face, "And must ye be at it afore I give the word? Who's
captain here--who? Come speak up, my roaring boy!" and he thrust his
hook beneath the Smiler's great, flabby chin.

"Mercy, Cap'n--mercy!" cried Spraggons, his high-pitched voice rising
to a pitiful squeal. "Not the hook, Cap'n--O Lord love me--not the
hook!"

"Hook? And why not, Sam, why not? 'Tis sharp and clean and quick, and
hath done the business o' nicer rogues than you, bully, aye and better,
Sam, better--"

"O Cap'n--for God's sake--"

"Who're you to call on God so glib, Sammy? 'Tis marvel He don't strike
ye blind, lad. Or there's your innards, Sam, here's that may whip out
your liver, lad--So!" I saw the glitter of the hook, heard Smiling
Sam's gasping scream as the steel bit into him, and then Tressady was
on his feet smiling round upon his awed and silent company.

"Look'ee, bullies!" says he, pointing to the Smiler's inanimate form,
"Here's poor Sam all swounded away at touch o' my hook like any
woman--and him my bo'sun! Pshaw! I want a man!" Here he stooped, and
wrenching the silver pipe from Smiling Sam's fat throat stared from one
shuffling rogue to another: "Step forward, Abner," says he at last,
"Come, you'll do--y