‘You have hit it my hearty,’ says the boatswain; ‘hit it to a tee. Yes; we will give you an opportunity of inspecting the run of the schooner, and if you fail to observe all its beauties the first time, don’t break your heart, you will have another chance immediately after.’ At this the cowardly animal began to howl and blubber again. ‘You will drown me, you will; it’s murder. There were sharks about the ship all yesterday. I will never come up alive! Have mercy on me! I have a wife and family in England. I would rather be flogged than put overboard. I would rather be flogged, indeed I would.’ At this moment Captain Jem came up. ‘Rather be flogged, would he? A minute ago he sang another tune. Why, you discontented thief,’ roared the captain, ‘you would not be pleased even although we were to hang you. Come, men, bear a hand, and have him overboard in a trice.’ Immediately, half a dozen stout fellows flung themselves upon the miserable culprit. He roared, swore, and prayed, all in a breath, kicked out with his legs and arms, and sought to bite and scratch like a wild cat. But he was speedily mastered, his arms pinioned securely, his ankles tied together, and the rope which ran under the keel made fast under his armpits. He was then lifted and carried to the larboard bulwarks, half a dozen men holding the end of the rope, which passed beneath the keel and came up on the starboard side, while two or three hands had charge of the continuation of the line, so as to steady his descent in the first dive, and to pull him back by in the second. All this time the vagabond never ceased to abuse and swear at us, seeing that cries for mercy availed not. Captain Jem gave the word— ‘Heave and pull,’ and instantly Mr. Bell went with a splash into the sea, struggling for a moment on the surface, and then, as the men on the starboard side hauled the rope, disappearing in the water. ‘Rattle him round,’ says the captain. ‘He must not drown for all he is such a villain.’ The men ran across the deck with the rope; there was a surge and a jerk, when the poor devil struck the projecting keel, but he was instantly dragged beneath it, and the next moment he made his appearance on the larboard side, struggling, panting and coughing up the water, his face all blue and bleeding from having been scraped along the bottom, and his clothes torn by the jagged shells of the barnacles. ‘O, Lord!’ he gasped; ‘murder—it is—murder;’ and then the coughing well-nigh choked him.