“Ah, poor sawl!” sighed Joan as Eve ended her dismal account of Adam’s sad condition:  “’tis only what I feared to hear of.  But tell un, Eve, to lay it to his heart that Jerrem’s forgived un every bit, and don’t know what it is to hold a grudge to Adam; and if I speak of un, he says, ’Why, doan’t I know it ain’t through he, but ‘cos o’ my own headstrong ways and they sneaks o’ revenoo-chaps?’ who falsely swored away his blessed life.”

“Does he seem to dread it much?” asked Eve, the sickly fears which filled her heart echoed in each whispered word.

“Not that he don’t,” said Joan, lifting her hand significantly to her throat:  “’tis after.  Oh, Eve,” she gasped, “ain’t it too awful to think of their cuttin’ up his poor dead body into bits?  Call theyselves doctors!” she burst out—­“the gashly lot!  I’ll never let wan o’ their name come nighst to me agen.”

“Oh, Reuben,” gasped Eve, “is it so?  Can nothing be done?”

Reuben shook his head.

“Nothing now,” said Joan—­“for want o’ money, too, mostly, Eve; and the guineas I’ve a-wasted!  Oh, how the sight o’ every one rises and chinks in judgment ’gainst my ears!”

“If we’d got the money,” said Reuben soothingly, “there isn’t time.  All should be settled by to-morrow night; and if some one this minute brought the wherewithal I haven’t one ’pon whom I dare to lay my hand to ask to undertake the job.”

“Then ‘tis no use harpin’ ’pon it any more,” said Joan; while Eve gave a sigh, concurring in what she said, both of them knowing well that if Reuben gave it up the thing must be hopeless indeed.

Here was another stab for Adam’s wounded senses, and with a heavy heart and step Eve took her way back to him, while Reuben and Joan continued to thread the streets which took them by a circuitous road home to Knight’s Passage.

But no sooner had Eve told Adam of this fresh burden laid on poor Jerrem than a new hope seemed to animate him.  Something was still to be done:  there yet remained an atonement which, though it cost him his life, he could strive to make to Jerrem.  Throwing aside the fear of detection which had hitherto kept him skulking within the little vessel, he set off that night to find the Mary Jane, and, regardless of the terrible shame which had filled him at the bare thought of confronting Triggs or any of his crew, he cast himself upon their mercy, beseeching them as men, and Cornishmen, to do this much for their brother-sailor in his sad need and last extremity; and his appeal and the nature of it had so touched these quickly-stirred hearts that, forgetful of the contempt and scorn with which, in the light of an informer, they had hitherto viewed Adam, they had one and all sworn to aid him to their utmost strength, and to bring to the rescue certain others of whom they knew, by whose help and assistance success would be more probable.  Therefore it was that, two days before the morning of his sentenced death, Eve was able to put into Reuben’s hand a scrap of paper on which was written Adam’s vow to Jerrem that, though his own life paid the forfeit for it, Jerrem’s body should be rescued and saved.