Nobody spoke, that I heard, and nobody moved, that I saw.  Yet there was a kind of ring, as if every man answered and approved with the best blood that was inside of him.

“Sir,” says Captain Maryon, “I beg to volunteer on this service, with my boats.  My people volunteer, to the ship’s boys.”

“In His Majesty’s name and service,” the other answers, touching his hat, “I accept your aid with pleasure.  Lieutenant Linderwood, how will you divide your men?”

I was ashamed—­I give it out to be written down as large and plain as possible—­I was heart and soul ashamed of my thoughts of those two sick officers, Captain Maryon and Lieutenant Linderwood, when I saw them, then and there.  The spirit in those two gentlemen beat down their illness (and very ill I knew them to be) like Saint George beating down the Dragon.  Pain and weakness, want of ease and want of rest, had no more place in their minds than fear itself.  Meaning now to express for my lady to write down, exactly what I felt then and there, I felt this:  “You two brave fellows that I had been so grudgeful of, I know that if you were dying you would put it off to get up and do your best, and then you would be so modest that in lying down again to die, you would hardly say, ‘I did it!’”

It did me good.  It really did me good.

But, to go back to where I broke off.  Says Captain Carton to Lieutenant Linderwood, “Sir, how will you divide your men?  There is not room for all; and a few men should, in any case, be left here.”

There was some debate about it.  At last, it was resolved to leave eight Marines and four seamen on the Island, besides the sloop’s two boys.  And because it was considered that the friendly Sambos would only want to be commanded in case of any danger (though none at all was apprehended there), the officers were in favour of leaving the two non-commissioned officers, Drooce and Charker.  It was a heavy disappointment to them, just as my being one of the left was a heavy disappointment to me—­then, but not soon afterwards.  We men drew lots for it, and I drew “Island.”  So did Tom Packer.  So of course, did four more of our rank and file.

When this was settled, verbal instructions were given to all hands to keep the intended expedition secret, in order that the women and children might not be alarmed, or the expedition put in a difficulty by more volunteers.  The assembly was to be on that same spot at sunset.  Every man was to keep up an appearance, meanwhile, of occupying himself in his usual way.  That is to say, every man excepting four old trusty seamen, who were appointed, with an officer, to see to the arms and ammunition, and to muffle the rullocks of the boats, and to make everything as trim and swift and silent as it could be made.