“Another hour passed, as I anxiously watched for the swell to go down, when we saw them making preparations to get off two _balitas_, lying aground on a spit of sand nearly in front of the palace. As I turned to look at some persons who had appeared on the divan, a large and airy veranda, overlooking the sea, the second mate exclaimed that one of the Arabs was making signals to the shore with his turban. In the desperate case we were in, it was neck or nothing; so, as I really began to have some hopes of getting to sea in the want of crafts to board us, I instantly ordered two guns to be run in and pointed aft; the carpenter clapped a bag of musket-balls in the muzzle of each, and while Parker and the man-of-war’s man stood by with matches lit, I hailed the Arabs in their language, giving Hadji notice, that at the smallest sign of a repetition of the act I would sweep the poop. This seemed to appal them. A few moments after, while part of the people were taking their breakfast on deck, word was brought me that the steward was easier and wished to see me again. “Directing Parker to keep a bright look-out, I dove down into the forecastle where the poor wretch was now lying in the cook’s bunk. I almost started as I looked upon him by the lamp burning at the beam over his head. His face seemed shrunken to half its usual size; the cheek-bones stood out, the eyes were pulled in, and the lips blue and puckered. His hand was clammy, cold as ice, and shriveled like a bomboat-woman’s who washed for the fleet. Though he felt no pain, there was a look of anxiety in his dim, sunken eyes, as he turned restlessly round, which, with his fluttering pulse and exhausted look, told that his hour was come. In fact, he was sinking fast into the long sleep of death, worn out, like the elements, by the fierce convulsions which had racked him. His mind was clear, and he spoke more calmly than might have been expected, though his head tossed from side to side like a dying billow. His voice was small and choked, hoarse as it seemed, from the agony which had wrung the sweat like rain from his pores. Anxious as I was to hear what the wretch had to communicate, it was with a strong feeling of repugnance that I approached my ear to his lips, for a film was vailing his eyes and the death-stupor already clouding his brain. He roused himself when spoken to, and recognizing me, confessed in a few broken words which one of the crew took down, that the mate and he after agreeing with the captain to drown Ellen, had made up their minds to secrete her in the run, and suffer her to escape from the ship at the first port they visited. In order to deceive Catherton the steward had prepared a figure when the boats were off and thrown it into the sea on the night on which Ellen was supposed to be lost. He said nothing could have tempted him to murder her, although the captain and the mate had both sworn to him that she was false. He was certain that Catherton had