est of the officers wisely held their tongues.
I now noticed an elderly man of very respectable appearance, who was not
pinioned like the rest. His hair was quite white, his complexion very
pale, and he looked like one oppressed with deep sorrow and anxiety. He
rose from his seat in the boat, and was assisted out by John Gough.
"I'm very sorry that we are obliged to leave you here, Mr Evelyn," said
Gough, "but you see sir, we have no alternative. We couldn't keep you
with us, for many reasons; and therefore we have been obliged to make
you a sharer in the fate of our officers."
"And werry painful this is to our feelings, sir, you may believe," said
another of the mutineers, mockingly. "I'm quite moloncholy as I thinks
on it."
The men again laughed; but the person so addressed walked to the side of
the Captain without making any observation. The other captives also
left the boat in silence. They were eight in all, but four of them were
evidently common seamen by their dress--the others were officers. All
were well-made strong men.
"What a precious pretty colony you'll make, my hearties!" exclaimed one
of the mutineers, jeeringly, as he helped to land a cask, and some other
packages, that they had brought with them. "It's a thousand pities you
ain't got no female associates, that you might marry, and settle, and
bring up respectable families."
"Talking of women," cried the one who had first spoken, "I wonder what
became of the one we left here so cleverly when we was wrecked at this
here place six years ago."
John Gough looked uneasy at this inquiry, as if the recollection was not
agreeable to him.
"And the Little Savage," continued the fellow, "what was a-going to send
his knife into my ribs for summat or other--I forget what. They must
have died long ago, I ain't no doubt, as we unfortnitely left 'em
nothin' to live upon."
"No doubt they died hand in hand, like the Babes in the Wood," said
another.
I still observed John Gough; he seemed distressed at the turn the
conversation had taken.
"Now, mates," he said, hurriedly, "let us return to the ship. We have
done what we came to do."
"I votes as we shall go and see arter the missionary's woman and the
Little Savage," cried the fourth. "I should like, somehow, to see
whether they be living or not, and a stroll ashore won't do any on us
any harm."
"I shall remain here till you return," said John Gough; and he threw
himself on the gra
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