“Oh!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, wringing his hands, “must I leave all my gold?”

“You have but two minutes, sir,” observed Sir Robert.  “Let the rope be put round his neck.”

This office was performed by Corporal Van Spitter.  The corporal was quite an amateur.

“Mercy, mercy,” cried Vanslyperken, again falling on his knees, and holding up his hands.

“Call upon Heaven for mercy, you have but one minute left.”

But here an interruption took place.

A female made her appearance on the other side of the deck, dragging, by a cord, the hero of our novel, Snarleyyow, who held back with all his power, jerking his head to the right and to the left, but it was of no use, he was dragged opposite to where Vanslyperken knelt.  As the reader may guess, this person was Smallbones, who had tied on a bonnet, and muffled up his face, so as not to be observed when he first went on board.  Jemmy Ducks now assisted, and the whip on the larboard yard-arm was made fast to a cord with a running noose, for the hanging of the cur.

The sight roused Vanslyperken.  “My dog!” exclaimed he, “woman, leave that dog alone—­who are you that dare touch my dog?”

The female turned round, threw off her bonnet and handkerchief and exhibited to the terrified lieutenant, the face of the supposed departed Smallbones.

“Smallbones!” exclaimed the crew of the Yungfrau in a breath.

“God of mercy—­help me, God of mercy!” cried Vanslyperken, aghast.

“I suppose that you do come for to go to know me now, anyhow,” said Smallbones.

“Hath the sea given up its dead?” replied Vanslyperken, in a hollow voice.

“No, it arn’t, ’cause why?  I never was a drowned,” replied Smallbones; “no thanks to you, though; but if so be as I supposes, you be a going to be hung—­as I’m a good Christian, I’ll forgive you—­that is, if you be hung, you know.”

Vanslyperken, who now perceived that Smallbones had been by some miracle preserved, recovered himself.

“If you forgive me,” replied Vanslyperken, “then pray do not ill-treat my dog.”

“I’se not forgiven him, anyhow—­I owes him enough, and now I’ll have his account settled, by gum.  When you goes up there, he goes up here, as sure as I’m Peter Smallbones.”

“Be merciful!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, who, strange to say, forgot his own miseries in pleading for his darling cur.

“He be a convicted traitor, and he shall die, by gum!” cried Smallbones, smacking his fist into the palm of his hand.

During the conversation, the time allotted to Vanslyperken had long expired, but the interest occasioned by it had inclined Sir Robert to wait till it was over.

“Enough,” cried Sir Robert, “your time is too long expired.  Commend your soul to God—­let the rope be manned.”

“Now Jemmy, stand by to toddle forward,” cried Smallbones.