Bob Saunders, that red-haired chap, was in the stern-sheets helping to catch the beggars with hitches, and as soon as he saw the big yellow-faced wretch stick his knife into poor old Blacksmith, he let drive at the brute with the boat-hook, twisted it in his frock, and held him under water.

He didn't mean to, but he was savage at what he had seen, for the lads like Smithy, and he held the beggar under water too long." I shuddered, and thought of the man being bayoneted from our boat, and Mr Grey's narrow escape.
"Your fellows behaved better, I s'pose ?" said Barkins.
"Not a bit," I said.

"We've got a man stabbed just in the same way--" and I told him of our adventures.
"They're nice ones," said Barkins sourly.

"I don't think our chaps will want to take many prisoners next time.

But I say, what a crusher for them--all four junks, and not a man to go back and tell the tale." "It's glorious," I cried, forgetting the horrors in our triumph.
"For you," said Barkins sourly.
"Why for me?
You and poor old Smith did your part.