At this time Smallbones had his nose in the stone jar of scheedam—­the olfactory examination was favourable, so he put his mouth to it—­the labial essay still more so, so he took down a wine glass, and, without any ceremony, filled a bumper, and handed it to Coble.

“We’ll drink to his recovery,” said Obadiah, tossing off the contents.

“Yes,” replied Short, who waited till the glass was refilled, and did the same.

“Here’s bad luck to him in his own good stuff,” said Smallbones, tossing off a third glass, and, filling it again, he handed it to Coble.

“Here’s reformation to him,” said Coble, draining the glass again.

“Yes,” replied Short, taking the replenished vessel.

“Here’s d——­n to him and his dog for ever and ever, Amen,” cried Smallbones, tippling off his second allowance.

“Who’s there?” said Vanslyperken in a faint voice, opening his eyes with a vacant look.

Smallbones replaced the bottle in the cupboard, and replied, “It’s only Smallbones, sir, and the mates, come to help you.”

“Smallbones!” said Vanslyperken, still wandering.  “Smallbones is drowned—­and the whole pot of black paint.”

“Conscience,” said Short.

“Carving-knife,” rejoined Coble.

“Carving-knife!” said Vanslyperken, raising himself up; “I never said a word about a carving-knife, did I?  Who is it that I see?  Short—­and Coble—­help me up.  I’ve had a sad fall.  Where’s Smallbones?  Is he alive—­really alive?”

“I believe as how I bees,” replied Smallbones.

Mr Vanslyperken had now recovered his perfect senses.  He had been raised on a chair, and was anxious to be rid of intruders, so he told Short and Coble that he would now do very well, and they might go; upon which, without saying a word, they both quitted the cabin.

Mr Vanslyperken collected himself—­he wished to know how Smallbones had been saved, but still dared not broach the subject, as it would be admitting his own guilt.

“What has happened, Smallbones?” said Vanslyperken.  “I still feel very faint.”

“Take a glass of this,” replied Smallbones, opening the cupboard, and bringing out the scheedam.  He poured out a glass, which Vanslyperken drank, and then observed, “How did you know what was in that cupboard sirrah?”

“Because you called for it when you were in your fits,” replied Smallbones.

“Called for scheedam?”

“Yes, sir, and said you had lost the carving-knife.”

“Did I?” replied Vanslyperken, afraid that he had committed himself.  “I have been ill, very ill,” continued he, putting his hand up to his forehead.  “By-the-bye, Smallbones, did you bring in that pot of paint?” said Vanslyperken, adroitly.

“No, sir, I didn’t, because I tumbled overboard, pot and all,” replied Smallbones.

“Tumbled overboard! why, I did not leave the ship till afterwards, and I heard nothing about it.”