“Them land-crabs have a power of strength,” said old Darby. “I recollects one night being beached high and dry in the small cutter, and I boat-keeper; so I catches one of these beasts, and claps him under the bows of the boat, whilst I made fast the painter to his hind leg, and then away he stretched out for the water, dragging the cutter with him as if it had been no more than a mouldy biscuit, and if I hadn’t cut the painter pretty smartly, he’d have towed us out to sea in no time.” “The legs of these crabs must be very long,” said I; “are their bodies in proportion?” “Why no, your honour,” replied the boatswain’s-mate; “their bodies are but small, seeing that they are all ribs and trucks; but their claws are tremendous. What d’ye think of their reaching up to the top of a gibbet, and having unhooked a pirate that was hung in chains, walked off with him, hoops and all, so that he never was found again!” “If it really happened,” I replied, “it is truly astonishing.” “Really happened!” cried the veteran somewhat scornfully. “Ax them as was watching down at Cabrita-point that night, and see if they won’t swear to it.” “Perhaps it was some of the friends of the pirate who removed the body,” I ventured to suggest. “Now that comes of your honour’s not knowing nothing of the country,” he rejoined; “for, d’ye mind, all the rogue’s friends were thieves, and if it had been any of them, they’d not only have carried off the body, but would have stole the gibbet for fire-wood, which a land-crab has no manner of use for.” This certainly was unanswerable, and I forbore asking any more questions on that subject.