"Bow, wow, wow," barked Snarleyyow. "Why, it's the whole ship's company!" cried Vanslyperken. "All but de Corporal Van Spitter, and de six marines," replied the corporal, raising his hand up to his head _a la militaire_. "Shut the door, corporal. This is indeed mutiny and defiance," cried Vanslyperken, jumping up from his chair. "It is von tyfel of a song," replied the corporal. "I must find out the ringleaders, corporal; do you think that you could contrive to overhear what they say after the song is over? they will be consulting together, and we might find out something." "Mynheer, I'm not very small for to creep in and listen," replied the corporal, casting his eyes down upon his huge carcass. "Are they all forward?" inquired the lieutenant. "Yes, mynheer--not one soul baft." "There is the small boat astern; do you think you could get softly into it, haul it up to the bows, and lie there quite still? You would then hear what they said, without their thinking of it, now that it is dark." "I will try, mynheer," replied the corporal, who quitted the cabin. But there were others who condescended to listen as well as the corporal, and in this instance, every word which had passed, had been overheard by Smallbones, who had been for some hours out of his hammock. When the corporal's hand touched the lock of the door, Smallbones made a hasty retreat. Corporal Van Spitter went on the quarter-deck, which he found vacant; he hauled up the boat to the counter, and by degrees lowered into it his unwieldy carcass, which almost swamped the little conveyance. He then waited a little, and with difficulty forced the boat up against the strong flood-tide that was running, till at last he gained the chesstree of the cutter, when he shortened in the painter (or rope that held the boat), made it fast to a ringbolt without being perceived, and there he lay concealed, not daring to move, for fear of making a noise. Smallbones had, however, watched him carefully, and as the corporal sat in the middle thwart, with his face turned aft, catching but imperfectly the conversation of the men, the lad separated the painter with a sharp knife, and at the same time dropping his foot down, gave the bow of the boat a shove off, which made it round with the stream. The tide was then running five or six miles an hour, and before the corporal, in the utter darkness, could make out what had occurred, or raise his heavy carcass to assist himself, he was whirled away by the current clear of the vessel, and soon disappeared from the sight of Smallbones, who was watching his progress.