“Look, your honour; I’m blowed, now my eyes are getting accustomed to this here light, if I don’t see a big clasp knife hanging by a cord to a key in the locker, behind your honour, close to your feet; only try, sir, if you can kick it out.” Lieutenant Thornton worked himself round, and by a powerful effort got on his knees, and seeing the knife, after repeated and tiresome efforts, he jerked it out of the lock, and then lying down contrived to get hold of it. As he did so they heard the companion pushed back, and some persons descended the stairs. Our hero had only time to say: “Lie still, and be quiet, whatever they say or do.” “Blow me,” muttered Bill to himself, “it’s easy to do that, seeing I don’t understand a word of their cursed lingo, and haven’t the power even to rub my nose; curse them!” The cabin door was opened, and two men entered, one holding a lantern. Lieutenant Thornton at once recognised the skipper of the Vengeance, and the mate of the Bon-Citoyen, whom our hero recollected having put on board the Babet, who was afterwards put ashore at Belleisle by Lieutenant O’Loughlin, and finally, after the departure of the corvette, got onboard the Vengeance, with several more of the schooner’s men. “So,” exclaimed Baptiste Gaudet, with a savage oath, throwing the faint light of the lantern on the young Lieutenant’s features. “So there you are—curse you! it was you that shot my brother-in-law, and took his schooner. Sacre diable! I have a mind now to slice your throat, only I’ll work with a bitter revenge out of you.” “You are a cowardly, ungrateful ruffian,” said Lieutenant Thornton, calmly, “I gave you the quarter you vowed to refuse us, and besides treated you well, and even restored you to liberty, and this is the return you make.” “It’s a cursed deal too good for you; and this beast too,” added the mate of the Citizen, giving Bill Saunders a savage kick, “run his pike into me;” and again he brutally kicked Saunders, whose blood was fever heat with rage. “Ah! let them bide,” said Gaudet, “till we come back, and that cursed frigate has put to sea. Mind if I don’t cut your hides into strips; I swore to do so, if we had the luck to catch you: I’ll do it, and pitch your carcases into the sea;” and with fearful oaths, each administering a kick to their helpless captives, they left the cabin, closing the companion. Bill Saunders foamed at the mouth, till he was in danger of suffocation. He bore the kicks administered to himself tolerably; but when he saw the skipper do the same to his Lieutenant, the honest fellow thought his heart would burst. “Your honour,” said Bill, half choking, “I should like to have died, if it would have saved you. The villain; I only wish to live to have my hands round that ruffian’s throat.” “Well, Bill, our turn may come yet. I have the knife, and presently we will see what we can do with it; the difficulty is, our hands being bound behind us, to open it.”