‘He is my cousin,’ said I. ‘Don’t question his courage. He’s fresh from seeing men butchered and thrown alive overboard. You are the greatest fighter in all England, with the finest endurance and pluck of any man that ever entered a ring; therefore, Mr. Abram, you have a soft heart. Courage and kindness go hand in hand. Bear with that lad. He is horror-stricken.’ ‘Do deed for such sedsatiods, by warbler,’ said the prize-fighter, grinning with gratification and stepping up to Will. ‘Give us your arb. I’ll take yours, Bates. Dow let’s step od deck. I wadt air ad a drink.’ CHAPTER XXXIII SHE DESCRIBES THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE CONVICTS On their going out, Tom shut the door and locked it, then, catching me in his arms, called me by twenty caressing words and kissed and blessed me for my love and devotion. I cried and lost my self-control, and some time elapsed before we were composed enough to talk. He then spoke of the _Arab Chief_, and told me again how the conspiracy against him had been contrived. His face blackened and he turned motionless with wrath when he mentioned Rotch and the other. I see him now after he had said: ‘Marian, I swear by and before the great and just and merciful God of Heaven that I am as guiltless of the crime for which I am here as you, and that Rotch and Nodder----’ Then he stopped. He stood without a stir, his face blackened, and his eyes became enlarged and fixed. Nothing moved but his lips, which convulsively opened and shut. His expression was one of horror and dreadful rage. I was terrified, and threw my arms round his neck and kissed him. He fetched two or three deep sighs, and picked his convict cap out of the upper bunk and fanned himself with it. He then quickly rallied, but turned as deadly pale as his looks had before been black and terrible, and held me by the hand a minute, watching me with a smile of heart-moving sadness. ‘But God will not suffer it! But God will not suffer it!’ he muttered brokenly; and a minute later, in a collected voice, he talked to me of his sufferings in the London jails, of what he had endured on board the hulk and in the dockyard. I strove to bring him away from these maddening memories by speaking of myself, but I presently saw it did him good to let loose his thoughts. Meanwhile, a second mob of convicts, attracted by the noise below, had come down into the steerage and were swelling the chorus of yells and oaths which the felons were roaring out. I heard a frequent splintering of wood, as though drawers and doors and lockers were being forced and smashed. The ruffians’ object, unless it were diabolic wantonness, I could not imagine; the cabins there were few. One was full of some kind of stores; then there was the pantry; the other berths were empty; maybe the villains beat and splintered the woodwork and did what injury they could with the tools they handled out of rage and spite at being baulked in their hunt for booty.