t they were to be cast off by one
movement, and that his success was certain; but still he was cautious.
The man at the helm must hear the boat go over; he might hear
Smallbones' cry for assistance. So Vanslyperken went forward to the man
at the helm, and desired him to go down and to order Corporal Van
Spitter to mix a glass of brandy-and-water, and send it up by him, and
that he would steer the vessel till he came up again. The man went down
to execute the order, and Vanslyperken steered the cutter for half a
minute, during which he looked forward to ascertain if any one was
moving. All was safe, the watch was all asleep forward, and
Vanslyperken, leaving the cutter to steer itself, hastened aft, cast off
the gripe, the boat, as he calculated, immediately turning over, and the
sleeping Smallbones fell into the sea. Vanslyperken hastened back to the
helm, and put the cutter's head right. He heard the cry of Smallbones,
but it was not loud, for the cutter had already left him astern, and it
was fainter and fainter, and at last it was heard no more, and not one
of the watch had been disturbed.

"If ever you haunt me again," muttered Vanslyperken, "may I be hanged."

We particularly call the reader's attention to these words of Mr
Vanslyperken.

The man returned with the brandy-and-water, with which Vanslyperken
drank _bon voyage_ to poor Smallbones. He then ordered the cutter to be
put about, and as soon as she was round, he went down into his cabin and
turned in with greater satisfaction than he had for a long time.

"We shall have got rid of him at last, my poor dog," said he, patting
Snarleyyow's head. "Your enemy is gone for ever."

And Mr Vanslyperken slept soundly, because, although he had committed a
murder, there was no chance of his being found out. We soon get
accustomed to crime: before, he started at the idea of murder; now, all
that he cared for was detection.

"Good-night to you, Mr Vanslyperken."

Chapter XLIII

In which Smallbones changes from a king's man into a smuggler, and also
changes his sex.

If we adhered to the usual plans of historical novel writers, we should,
in this instance, leave Smallbones to what must appear to have been his
inevitable fate, and then bring him on the stage again with a _coup de
theatre_, when least expected by the reader. But that is not our
intention; we consider that the interest of this our narration of bygone
events is quite sufficient, without cond