“You’ll be colder when you’re under the bottom of the cutter,” replied his master.

“O Lord! then it is keel-hauling a’ter all; why what have I done?” cried Smallbones, as the marines divested him of his shirt, and exposed his emaciated body to the pitiless storm.

“Where’s Snarleyyow, sir?—­confess.”

“Snarleyyow—­how should I know, sir? it’s very hard, because your dog is not to be found, that I’m to be dragged under the bottom of a vessel.”

“I’ll teach you to throw paving-stones in the canal.”

“Paving-stones, sir!” and Smallbones’ guilty conscience flew in his face.  “Well, sir, do as you please, I’m sure I don’t care; if I am to be killed, be quick about it—­I’m sure I sha’n’t come up alive.”

Here Mr Vanslyperken remembered his dream, and the difficulty which he had in driving Smallbones’ soul out of his body, and he was fearful that even keel-hauling would not settle Smallbones.

By the directions of Mr Vanslyperken, the hauling ropes and other tackle were collected by the marines, for the seamen stood by, and appeared resolved, to a man, to do nothing, and, in about half an hour, all was ready.  Four marines manned the hauling line, one was placed at each side-rope fastened to the lad’s arms, and the corporal, as soon as he had lifted the body of Smallbones over the larboard gunnel, had directions to attend the bow-line, and not allow him to be dragged on too fast:  a better selection for this purpose could not have been made than Corporal Van Spitter.  Smallbones had been laid without his clothes on the deck, now covered with snow, during the time that the lines were making fast to him; he remained silent, and as usual, when punished, with his eyes shut, and as Vanslyperken watched him with feelings of hatred, he perceived an occasional smile to cross the lad’s haggard features.  He knows where the dog is, thought Vanslyperken, and his desire to know what had become of Snarleyyow overcame his vengeance—­he addressed the shivering Smallbones.

“Now, sir, if you wish to escape the punishment, tell me what has become of the dog, for I perceive that you know.”

Smallbones grinned as his teeth chattered—­he would have undergone a dozen keel-haulings rather than have satisfied Vanslyperken.

“I give you ten minutes to think of it,” continued the lieutenant; “hold all fast at present.”

The snow storm now came on so thick that it was difficult to distinguish the length of the vessel.  Smallbones’ naked limbs were gradually covered, and, before the ten minutes were expired, he was wrapped up in snow as in a garment—­he shook his head occasionally to clear his face, but remained silent.

“Now, sir,” cried Vanslyperken, “will you tell me, or overboard you go at once?  Will you tell me?”

“No,” replied Smallbones.

“Do you know, you scoundrel?”

“Yes,” replied Smallbones, whose indignation was roused.