There was John Dash, holding on to the bobstay, his frightened face just above the surface of the water. In an instant he was hauled on board. "Ah, there's where you've been all the time, Mr. Dash!" said Captain Morrison, sarcastically. "And how strange I not knowing it! This gentleman has been asking for you very kindly." The poor man, dripping wet, was standing erect before the boarding-officer. The titter that had run through the English sailors ceased as they saw the look on his face. He was drawing quick breaths, half-snarling like a dog, but he was trembling from head to foot. "Oho!" said the servant of the King, lifting his eyebrows, "and here we are, eh? I think you know me, as I remember you, Charles Rice! You left us at the Port of Spain and forgot to return, you may remember. You owe his Majesty an accounting." [Illustration: "I AM AN AMERICAN CITIZEN," RETURNED THE SAILOR, HOARSELY.] "I am an American citizen," returned the sailor, hoarsely, "born at Barnstable, Massachusetts! I was impressed from the ship _Martha_ on the high seas, and owe accounting to no one." "None of your insolence," cried the Englishman, drawing back his closed hand. "We'll see about that. You'll come with me, and these other two fine fellows also." Dash, or Rice (I understood afterwards the latter was his real name), gave a leap backward and ran into the deck-house. The officer turned. "Bring that man out," he said to two of his bullies. Before they had crossed the deck something happened, and no one who witnessed it can ever shake it from his memory. The tall sailor appeared at the doorway. His hands were behind his back, and his blue eyes were absolutely rolling in his head. "No, by the God of Heaven, you shall not be served!" he cried. "_There_ is something you cannot command, at least, to do your bidding!" With a swift motion he drew his left arm from behind his back and flung something on the deck. _It was his right hand, severed at the wrist!_ Such a horror possessed us all that not a word was said. The planter's wife went in a heap to the deck, and as for myself, I went sick with the misery of it, and reeled to the side of the ship. The Lieutenant fell back as if struck a blow over the heart, and without a word, followed by his men, he clambered weakly down to his boat and shoved off. Dash lifted the bloody stump above his head; a curse broke from him, and then he fell into the arms of one of the black seamen. They carried him into the deck-house, and all hands followed, even the wheel being left deserted. As for myself, I crawled below into my bunk and wound the blankets about my head--Mrs. Chaffee was screaming in hysterics. Then and there was born in my heart such a hatred for the sight of the cross of St. George that I have never confounded my prejudice with patriotism, and this may account for some of my actions subsequently. No one referred to the happening in our talk after this--it might not have occurred.