“For myself nothing is demanded,” he said, with admirable steadiness. “I know your self-enacted laws condemn me to a miserable fate; but for these ignorant, confiding, faithful followers, I claim, nay beg, entreat, implore your mercy; they knew not what they did, and”— “Speak to these!” said the Rover, pointing, with an averted eye, to the fierce knot by which he was surrounded: “These are your judges, and the sole ministers of mercy.” Strong and nearly unconquerable disgust was apparent in the manner of the youth; but, with a mighty effort, he subdued it, and, turning to the crew, continued,— “Then even to these will I humble myself in petitions. Ye are men, and ye are mariners”— “Away with him!” exclaimed the croaking Nightingale; “he preaches! away with him to the yard arm! away!” The shrill, long-drawn winding of the call which the callous boatswain sounded in bitter mockery was answered by an echo from twenty voices, in which the accents of nearly as many different people mingled in hoarse discordancy, as they shouted,— “To the yard-arm! away with the three! away!” Wilder cast a last glance of appeal at the Rover but he met no look, in return, from a face that was intentionally averted. Then, with a burning brain he felt himself rudely transferred from the quarter deck into the centre and less privileged portion of the ship. The violence of the passage, the hurried reeving of cords, and all the fearful preparations of a nautical execution, appeared but the business of a moment, to him who stood so near the verge of time. “A yellow flag for punishment!” bawled there vengeful captain of the forecastle; “let the gentle man sail on his last cruise, under the rogue’s ensign!” “A yellow flag! a yellow flag!” echoed twenty taunting throats. “Down with the Rover’s ensign and up with the colours of the prevot-marshal! A yellow flag! a yellow flag!” The hoarse laughter, and mocking merriment, with which this coarse device was received, stirred the ire of Fid, who had submitted in silence, so far, to the rude treatment he received, for no other reason than that he thought his superior was the best qualified to utter the little which it might be necessary to say. “Avast, ye villains!” he hotly exclaimed, prudence and moderation losing their influence, under the excitement of scornful anger; “ye cut-throat, lubberly villains! That ye are villains, is to be proved, in your teeth, by your getting your sailing orders from the devil; and that ye are lubbers, any man may see by the fashion in which ye have rove this cord about my throat. A fine jam will ye make with a turn in your whip! But ye’ll all come to know how a man is to be decently hanged, ye rogues, ye will. Ye’ll all come honestly by the knowledge, in your day, ye will!” “Clear the turn, and run him up!” shouted one, two, three voices, in rapid succession; “a clear whip, and a swift run to heaven!”