tter was always an excellent sailer, and
in a very short space of time she was running down Long Reach with
Erith and its adjacent shores out of sight, past the round of land
where Dartford creek is to be found. Joe Westlake then called a
council. Robins was at the tiller; Plum and Tuck came aft, and the
four debated at the helm.

"I've heerd," said old Joe, "of this tailor afore. His name's Sloper.
I've never larnt why he mounted them guns, or where the little rooting
hog got his pluck from to fire 'em. But there can be no shadder of a
doubt, mates, that his object in firing to-day was to insult that
there flag."

He pointed with an immensely square forefinger to the masthead.

"Ne'er a shadder," said Plum.

"For why," continued old Joe, "did the smothered rag of a chap wait
for us to come right abreast afore firing?"

"Ah! that's it, ye see," exclaimed Bob Robins. "There ye've hit it,
Mr. Westlake."

"The little faggot's game," old Joe went on, "is as clear as mud in a
wineglass. He fires with blank cartridge; like as he'd say 'What'll
_you_ do?' What did he want? That we should retarn his civility with
grape? Of course; that if it should come to a difficulty he'd have the
law on his side. Not being able to aggravate us into shotting our
guns, what must he turn to and do but load with stone--and look at
that flag! Riddled, mates. I'll not speak of it as spiled, though a
prettier and a better bit of bunting was never mastheaded. Spiled
ain't the word: disgraced it is."

"Degraded," said Plum, in a deep voice.

"Ay, and degraded," cried old Joe, with a surly, dangerous nod. "That
there little tailor has degraded the honour of our flag. What's to be
done to him?"

After a pause, Plum said: "Bring him up and sit in examination on him.
Try him fairly, and convict him."

They opened the hatch and pulled little Sloper off the Thames ballast
into daylight. He was exceedingly white, and trembled violently, and
cut, indeed, a very pitiful figure as he stood on the quarter-deck of
the _Tom Bowling_, surveyed by her owner and crew. He was a short man
and spare, and Tom Tuck grinned as he looked at him.

"I suppose you're aweer," said old Joe, "that in shooting at my flag
and wounding her you've degraded the honour of it? Are you aweer of
that?"

"You came in my way; I was shooting for my hentertainment," answered
Mr. Sloper.

"You're a retired tailor, ain't ye?" said Joe.

Sloper sulkily answered "Yes."

"Ha