"Dessay you were a prince when you was over yonder; now you're a foremast man. Well, ups and downs in life we see, Soup old chap. Mebbe I shall be a prince some day. Ah, well, you're not a bad sort, and I'm glad you haven't got flogged." Meanwhile Mark was talking to Tom Fillot about the culprits. "Then you think I ought to have punished them, Tom?" said Mark. "Well, sir," said Tom, rubbing one ear, "I do and don't, sir. What's to be done with chaps like that, as don't know no better?" "Exactly," cried Mark. "They fought for us as well as they could." "They have, sir, and it ain't as if they'd had a twelvemonth of the first luff to drill 'em into shape. But, bless your 'art, sir, if they had they mightn't have been able to fight agin sleep. Able seamen can't always do it, so what's to be expected of a regular black just picked out of a slaver's hold?" "That will do, then," said Mark. "You have helped me so that I didn't like you to think I went against your advice." "Don't you be afeared of that, sir," cried Tom. "I give you my bit of advice for you as a gentleman and a scholard, to see if it's worth taking. Well, sir, what about the prisoners now?" "I think they must be safe this time, Tom," said Mark, walking back to the cask, and giving a pull at it, to find it as solid as so much iron. "Well, sir, that's what I think; but don't you trust 'em. They mean to get out and take the schooner again." "And we mean that they shan't, Tom," said Mark, merrily; "and as we have the strongest position, we must win." "That's it, sir; so if you'll give me the watch there by the fo'c'sle hatch, I'll promise you I won't go to sleep." "Take the watch, then," said Mark; and then suddenly, "Why, what does that mean?" For just then the prisoners began in chorus to whistle an American air, accompanying it with a rhythmic clapping of hands. Then the sound ended as quickly as it had begun, and there was a hearty burst of laughter. "Merry, eh?" said Tom Fillot. "Well, there's no harm in that." They listened in the darkness, and one man with a musical voice began a plantation ditty, his companions breaking in with a roaring chorus at the end of every verse, clapping their hands and stamping their feet, ending by one of the party starting up and breaking into a kind of jig or hornpipe, evidently keeping it up till he was tired, when, with a shout, another man took his place and danced with all his might. The listeners had to trust to their ears for all this, but it was perfectly plain, and it seemed to Mark that in despair of escaping the Americans had determined to make the best of their position. This went on for some time with great spirit and a tremendous amount of noise, sufficient to make the slaves in the hold uneasy, and a good deal of murmuring and talking went on. The sounds ceased, and there was a hail from the forecastle. "Hey, there, yew, on the watch!" "Hullo! What is it?" cried Tom Fillot.