"The sailor came up, touching his hat to me, and said he thought he saw something queer off the boom-end. 'Well,' said I gruffly, 'go and tell your mate, then.' I didn't know the fellow's voice, though it had a particular twang in it, and he wasn't in Jacobs' watch, I knew. 'Why, your honour,' he persisted, 'I knows pretty well what you air--asking your pardon, sir--but I think you'd make more out of it nor any of the mates! It's some'at rather skeary, sir,' added he. Accordingly I took hold of the man-ropes and swung myself up the bowsprit, and had my feet on the foot-rope below the jib-boom, when I heard his breath, following behind me. 'Never you trouble yourself, my man,' said I; 'one at a time!' and back he went in board again--for something curious in his way struck me; but I wanted to see what he meant. I had just got near the flying-jib, half-stowed in as it was on the boom, and I fancied, with a creep of my blood in me, I made out a man's head over the sail; but next moment a hand like a vice caught me by the throat, and some one growled out, 'Now ye infernal man-o'-war hound, I have ye--and down you goes for it!' "The instant I _felt_ it, my coolness came back; as for grappling, I couldn't, and the ebb current ran below to her bows at a rate fit to carry one out to sea in half-an-hour. I saw the whole plot in a twinkling, and never moved; instead of that I gave a sort of laugh, and followed the husky twang of the other man to a tee. 'He won't come, Harry, my lad!' said I, and my ugly friend let go before he had time to think twice. 'He be blowed!' said Harry, scornfully; 'an' why won't he, mate?' He had scarce the words out of his mouth, though, ere I took him a twist that doubled him over the spar, and down he slipped, hanging by a clutch of the sail. 'I suppose, my fine fellow,' said I, 'you forgot Fernando Po, and those nigger adventures of yours--eh?' and I went in without more ado. "I hadn't been ten minutes on deck, however, when I heard both of them swearing something or other to the first mate. A little after Finch came forward to me, with a ship's lantern, and three or four of the men behind. 'Mr Collins, or whatever's your name, sir,' said he aloud, 'I believe you've been seen just now at the bowsprit-end, making signals or something to the shore! You're in arrest at once, sir, and no more about it!' 'What the deuce!' said I, my blood up, and pulling out a pair of pocket-pistols I had had in the boat, 'let me see the man to----' At the moment a blow of a handspike from near the mast laid me senseless on the deck, and I knew nothing more.--But I see 'tis too far gone in the night to carry out the yarn, ladies!" CHAPTER XVII