“One moment—­I ask but one moment,” cried Vanslyperken, much agitated, “only one moment, sir.”

“For what?”

“To kiss my poor dog,” replied Vanslyperken, bursting into tears; strange and almost ridiculous as was the appeal, there was a seriousness and a pathos in Vanslyperken’s words and manner, which affected those who were present like a gleam of sunshine, this one feeling which was unalloyed with baser metal shone upon the close of a worthless and wicked life, Sir Robert nodded his head, and Vanslyperken walked with his rope round his neck over to where the dog was held by Smallbones, bent over the cur and kissed it again and again.

“Enough,” cried Sir Robert, “bring him back.”

Corporal Van Spitter took hold of Vanslyperken by the arm, and dragged him to the other side of the deck.  The unfortunate wretch was wholly absorbed in the fate of his cur, who had endeavoured to follow his master.  His eyes were fixed upon Snarleyyow, and Snarleyyow’s were fixed upon his master, thus they were permitted to remain for a few seconds, when Sir Robert gave the signal.  Away went the line of men who had manned the starboard whip, and away went Jemmy Ducks on the larboard side, and, at the yard-arms’ of the cutter were suspended the bodies of Vanslyperken and Snarleyyow.

Thus perished one of the greatest scoundrels, and one of the vilest curs, which ever existed.  They were damnable in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided.

By the manuscript records, found in the Jacobite papers, it appears that the double execution took place on the 3rd of August in the year of our Lord, 1700.

Chapter LIV

In which affairs begin to wind up.

There are few people whose vindictive feelings are not satisfied with the death of the party against whom those feelings have been excited.  The eyes of all on deck (that is all except one) were at first directed to the struggling Vanslyperken, and then, as if sickened at the sight of his sufferings, were turned away with a feeling very near akin to compassion.

One only looked or never thought of Vanslyperken, and that one was Smallbones, who watched the kicking and plunging of his natural enemy, Snarleyyow.  Gradually, the dog relaxed his exertions, and Smallbones watched, somewhat doubtful, whether a dog who had defied every other kind of death, would condescend to be hanged.  At last, Snarleyyow was quite still.  He appeared nearly to have gone to—­“Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”

“He won’t a cum to life any more this time,” said Smallbones; “but I’ll not let you out of my hands yet.  They say a cat have nine lives, but, by gum, some dogs have ninety.”