“Yes,” replied Vanslyperken, who was quite muddled.

“Whether they apply from here, or from the other side of the channel, no consequence, you must take them—­if not—­”

“If not, what?” replied Vanslyperken.

“You’ll swing, that’s all, my buck.  Good-night to you,” replied Moggy, leaving the cabin.

“I’ll swing,” muttered Vanslyperken, rolling against the bulkhead.  “Well, if I do, others shall swing too.  Who cares? damn the faggot!”

Here Mr Vanslyperken poured out another glass of scheedam, the contents of which overthrew the small remnant of his reasoning faculties.  He then tumbled into his bed with his clothes on, saying, as he turned on his side, “Smallbones is dead and gone, at all events.”

Moggy took leave of her friends on deck, and pushed on shore.  She permitted Smallbones, whom she found fast asleep, to remain undisturbed until nearly three o’clock in the morning, during which time she watched by the bedside.  She then roused him, and they sallied forth, took a boat, and dropped alongside of the cutter.  Smallbones’ hammock had been prepared for him by the corporal.  He was put into it, and Moggy then left the vessel.

Mr Vanslyperken was in a state of torpor during this proceeding, and was, with great difficulty, awoke by the corporal, according to orders given, when it was daylight, and the cutter was to weigh anchor.

“Smallbones has not come off, sir, last night,” reported the corporal.

“I suppose the scoundrel has deserted,” replied Vanslyperken, “I fully expected that he would.  However, he is no loss, for he was a useless, idle, lying rascal.”  And Mr Vanslyperken turned out; having all his clothes on, he had no occasion to dress.  He went on deck, followed by the tail-less Snarleyyow, and in half an hour the cutter was standing out towards St Helen’s.

Chapter XL

In which a most horrid spectre disturbs the equanimity of Mr Vanslyperken.

Two days was the cutter striving with light winds for the Texel, during which Mr Vanslyperken kept himself altogether in his cabin.  He was occasionally haunted with the memory of the scene in his mother’s room.—­Smallbones dead, and the stream of blood running along the floor, and his mother’s diabolical countenance, with the hammer raised in her palsied hands; but he had an instigator to his vengeance beside him, which appeared to relieve his mind whenever it was oppressed; it was the stump of Snarleyyow, and when he looked at that he no longer regretted, but congratulated himself on the deed being done.  His time was fully occupied during the day, for with locked doors he was transcribing the letters sent to Ramsay, and confided to him.

He was not content with taking extracts, as he did of the government despatches for Ramsay; he copied every word, and he replaced the seals with great dexterity.  At night his mind was troubled, and he dare not lie himself down to rest until he had fortified himself with several glasses of scheedam; even then his dreams frightened him; but he was to be more frightened yet.