"Now, my men, what I have to say to you concerns my own and my family history, perhaps, more than it does you. You have all heard my poor boy's adventures when he fell into the hands of the Greek brigands?"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"You know who it was that was instrumental in getting him condemned to death."
"It was that sneaking lubber, Hunston," cried several voices at once.
"It was. I need not enlarge upon all he has done to merit the worst punishment it is in our power to bestow, if ever he should fall into our hands—the worst I say, eh?"
"Yes,—him!" said a voice, with a very strong expletive.
The approval of the crew was perfectly unanimous.
In vain did Hunston look about him for one of those disaffected men of whom Joe Basalt had spoken.
Not a vestige of any thing like opposition to the general sentiments did he trace in any of those weather-beaten, honest countenances.
"Well," resumed Harkaway, "and what would you say if, after that I have forgiven him, taken him in hand and had him carefully tended and nursed, what would you say if even then he tried to wrong me—to ensnare innocent, well-meaning men, into a murderous plot against my life?"