d then Smallbones began to reflect, whether
it was not necessary that he should forgive Mr Vanslyperken before he
died, and his pros and cons ended with his thinking he could, for it was
his duty; however he would not be in a hurry about it, he thought that
was the last thing that he need do; but as for the dog, he wa'n't
obliged to forgive him that was certain--as certain as that his tail was
off; and Smallbones, up to his chin in the water, grinned so at the
remembrance, that he took in more salt water than was pleasant.

He spit it out again, and then looked up to the stars, which were
twinkling above him.

I wonder what o'clock it is, thought Smallbones, when he thought he
heard a distant sound. Smallbones pricked up his ears and
listened;--yes, it was in regular cadence, and became louder and louder.
It was a boat pulling.

"Well, I am sure," thought Smallbones, "they'll think they have caught a
queer fish anyhow:" and he waited very patiently for the fisherman to
come up. At last he perceived the boat, which was very long and pulled
many oars. "They be the smuglars," thought Smallbones.

"I wonder whether they'll pick up a poor lad? Boat ahoy!"

The boat continued to pass towards the coast, impelled at the speed of
seven or eight miles an hour, and was now nearly abreast of Smallbones,
and not fifty yards from him.

"I say, boat ahoy!" screamed Smallbones, to the extent of his voice.

He was heard this time, and there was a pause in the pulling, the boat
still driving through the water with the impulse which had been given
her, as if she required no propelling power.

"I say you arn't a going for to come for to leave a poor lad here to be
drowned, are you?"

"That's Smallbones, I'll swear," cried Jemmy Ducks, who was steering the
boat, and who immediately shifted the helm.

But Sir Robert Barclay paused; there was too much at stake to run any
risk, even to save the life of a fellow-creature.

"You takes time for to think on it anyhow," cried Smallbones--"you are
going for to leave a fellow-christian stuck like a herring in a fishing
net, are you? you would not like it yourself, anyhow."

"It is Smallbones, sir," repeated Jemmy Ducks, "and I'll vouch for him
as a lad that's good and true."

Sir Barclay no longer hesitated: "Give way, my lads, and pick him up."

In a few minutes, Smallbones was hauled in over the gunnel, and was
seated on the stern-sheets opposite to Sir Robert.

"It's a great deal