"That man."
He pointed.
"Heem. Heem. Heem. Heem."
"Very good," said my great-uncle. "Most of us prefer to sleep, seeing that we confront the certainty of a busy morrow; but I have no wish to disappoint those who would amuse themselves tonight. Nay, I will provide entertainment for them. Take those five, Coupeau, and the fellows who broiled with them, and stand by whilst their followers lay on an hundred and fifty lashes with the cat for each."
There was an instant's silence, then a gasp of terror, and one man commenced to sob.
"Oh, Gawd, cap'n, sir, we'm can't stand no hun'erd'n' fufty lashes! No mortal man could. Doan't 'ee say it, sir! We'm'll crawl to 'ee, cap'n, sir, 'deed we will."
"You should have thought of that beforehand," replied Murray, unmoved.
"Not a hun'erd an' fifty, cap'n," pleaded a second man. "'Twill kill us, sure."
"I should not be surprized if it would," agreed my great-uncle, taking snuff. "In fact, were I in your shoes I should hope that it would. Take them away, Coupeau—out of earshot, if you please."