“Tell them, brother, that I'm a rebel, will ye? and ye'll tell 'em no lie--one that has fou't them since Manly's time, in Boston Bay, to this hour. I hope the boy will blow her up! it would be the death of poor Richard Barnstable to see her in the hands of the English!” “I know of one way,” said Borroughcliffe, affecting to muse, “and but one, that will certainly avert the prison-ship; for, on second thoughts, they will hardly put you to death.” “Name it, friend,” cried the cockswain, rising from his seat in evident perturbation, “and if it lies in the power of man, it shall be done.” “Nay,” said the captain, dropping his hand familiarly on the shoulder of the other, who listened with the most eager attention, “'tis easily done, and no dreadful thing in itself; you are used to gunpowder, and know its smell from otto of roses!” “Ay, ay,” cried the impatient old seaman; “I have had it flashing under my nose by the hour; what then?” “Why, then, what I have to propose will be nothing to a man like you--you found the beef wholesome, and the grog mellow!” “Ay, ay, all well enough; but what is that to an old sailor?” asked the cockswain, unconsciously grasping the collar of Borroughcliffe's coat, in his agitation; “what then?” The captain manifested no displeasure at this unexpected familiarity, but with suavity as he unmasked the battery, from behind which he had hitherto carried on his attacks. “Why, then, you have only to serve your king as you have before served the Congress--and let me be the man to show you your colors.” The cockswain stared at the speaker intently, but it was evident he did not clearly comprehend the nature of the proposition, and the captain pursued the subject: “In plain English, enlist in my company, my fine fellow, and your life and liberty are both safe.” Tom did not laugh aloud, for that was a burst of feeling in which he was seldom known to indulge; but every feature of his weatherbeaten visage contracted into an expression of bitter, ironical contempt. Borroughcliffe felt the iron fingers, that still grasped his collar, gradually tightening about his throat, like a vice; and, as the arm slowly contracted, his body was drawn, by a power that it was in vain to resist, close to that of the cockswain, who, when their faces were within a foot of each other, gave vent to his emotions in words: “A messmate, before a shipmate; a shipmate, before a stranger; a stranger, before a dog--but a dog before a soldier!” As Tom concluded, his nervous arm was suddenly extended to the utmost, the fingers relinquishing their grasp at the same time; and, when Borroughcliffe recovered his disordered faculties, he found himself in a distant corner of the apartment, prostrate among a confused pile of chairs, tables, and wearing-apparel. In endeavoring to rise from this humble posture, the hand of the captain fell on the hilt of his sword, which had been included in the confused assemblage of articles produced by his overthrow.