"I guess you and I will take the shiners ashore," he says; "I'd giveyou a writing, but it would do you no good, Tommy. I'm what theycalled tainted."

"I don't know what you mean by that," I says. "Scuttled she is, ifyou say so. Shall we row for Tobago?"

"Well, I'll tell you how it is, Tommy," he says. "I don't know whatthe Dagos will do, and they're beautiful likely to get us anyhow, butwe'll give 'em a hunt. But I've got a fancy you ain't got to the endof your rope yet, lad," and he says no more for a minute or two, andthen he heaves a sigh and says: "The shiners are yours if they cut meoff. I won't give you no more advice, Tommy, but I wish you luck."

But I don't look at why he had such a notion that he was near his own end.

It occasionally was a hard skinnyg to do, to blow a hole in the bottom of the goodship. The night was dim now, but the lights of the cruiser in plainsight, and we knew she'd stand off until night, or as long as the_Hebe Maitland's_ lanterns burned at the masts. The crew put offin three boats to round the island and wait for us, and Clyde and Itook the fourth boat, and stowed the canvas bags, and went ashore,running up a little reedy inlet to the end. We buried them in theexact middle of a tiny triangle of three trees. Then we rowed out,and I threw the spade in the water, and when we rounded the island,taking a last look at the _Hebe Maitland_, she was dippingconsiderable, as could be seen from the hang of her lanterns. Clydechanged to another boat and put Sadler, Craney, Irish, Abe Dalrimple,and Stevey Todd, into mine.