shoved off, he would in all probability have been
permitted to go with them, and Newton, in the hurry of their
self-preservation, would have been forgotten; but his cool behaviour
restored their confidence, and, unhappily for him, gave the seamen time
to reflect. Everyone was in the boat; for Jackson had quietly prepared
and put into her what he considered requisite, when one of the men
called out for Newton.

"D----n Newton now!--save your own lives, my lads. Quick in the boat, all
of you."

"Not without Mr Newton!" cried the men, unanimously. "Jump down, Tom
Williams, and see where he is; he must sleep devilish sound."

The sailor sprung down the companion-hatch, where he found the hawser
coiled against the door, and heard Newton struggling inside. It was
enough. He hastened on deck, and told his companions; adding, that "it
would take half an hour to get the poor fellow out, and that's longer
than we dare stay, for in ten minutes the brig will be to pieces."

"It is you, you murdering rascal, who did it!" cried the man to Jackson.
"I tell you what, my lads, if poor Mr Newton is to die, let this
scoundrel keep him company."

A general shout proclaimed the acquiescence of the other seamen in this
act of retributive justice. Jackson, with a loud oath, attempted to
spring into the boat, but was repelled by the seamen; again he made the
attempt, with dreadful imprecations. He was on the plane-sheer of the
brig, and about to make a spring, when a blow from a handspike (the same
handspike with which he had murdered the unfortunate seaman) struck him
senseless, and he fell back into the lee-scuppers. The boat then shoved
off, and had not gained more than two cables' lengths from the vessel,
when Newton effected his escape, and ran on deck, as narrated in our
last chapter.

The brig had now beat up so high on the reef that she remained firmly
fixed upon it; and the tide having ebbed considerably, she was less
exposed to the beating of the waves. The sun was also about to make his
appearance, and it was broad daylight when Jackson first came to his
recollection. His brain whirled, his ideas were confused, and he had
but a faint reminiscence of what had occurred. He felt that the water
washed his feet, and with a sort of instinct he rose, and staggered up
to windward. In so doing, without perceiving him, he stumbled over the
body of Newton, who also was roused up by the shock. A few moments
passed before either could re