th!"

"No, no, no, no!" shrieked the jovial captain; "not that, Joe, not
that."

"Yes, I say; for you are not long for this world."

"You are not sent to tell me that, Joe," said Robinson, his voice dying
away in spite of a desperate effort to make it audible.

"I am."

"Ugh!"

And with a half groan, half grunt, he sank upon the ground prostrate.

Before his senses had fairly fled, Joe Deering strode over to him, and
delivered him a heavy kick behind.

This brought him round in a wonderful way.

He knew that it was a material foot that had given that kick, and the
conviction was a marvellous relief to him.

He scrambled up.

As he got to his feet, Joe Deering fixed him by the throat, and shook
him.

"You plotted to accomplish my murder," he said, "but now my turn's
come, Robinson, and I mean to punish you."

Jovial Captain Robinson was a coward, an arrant cur, yet he infinitely
preferred having to tackle flesh and blood, to battling with a ghost.

He turned upon his assailant.

But Deering was not to be denied.

Before the jovial captain could do any thing to help himself, Joe
Deering hammered his face into a jelly.

Half dazed, stunned, and blinded, Robinson fought it out, and
struggling fiercely, he shook himself free.

And then he fled like a beaten cur from the house.

Joe Deering did not attempt to follow him.

"There," he said, calmly enough, considering what had gone before,
"that's done. Thank goodness it's off my mind. Mr. Murray must have my
next attention."

He little thought that the wretched shipowner had already paid the
penalty of his crimes.

* * * *

Jovial Captain Robinson was never the same man again.

Whether it was the physical or the mental punishment he had had, we
cannot possibly determine, but certain it is that something broke him
up from that day, and he lingered on a miserable life of two years or
more, and died in abject want.

CHAPTER C.

A DOSE OF PALM OIL.

Having settled the hash of jovial Captain Robinson, we now proceed to
the pleasant task of measuring out justice to others.

Messieurs Murray and Chivey are the persons we mean.

Those gentlemen, having taken such excellent precautions to cut off
young Jack Harkaway's communications with the outer world, fancied
themselves tolerably safe.

Yet every now and then Murray's nerves were shaken as he thought of the
vindictive Lenoir.

What had b