"You haven't a single witness against me," said Hunston, eagerly.
"Plenty."
"Where's one? Let go, I tell you," he cried frantically, at the men who were dragging him towards the rope. "This is murder; you'll hang for it, Harkaway; you'll—cowards! all of you upon one."
But they did not pay much heed to his ravings.
"Do you hear, Harkaway?" he cried, "This is murder, whatever you call it. It will hang you yet; at the least, it will transport you for life."
Harkaway smiled.
"I shall not soil my fingers in the matter."
"It is your work!" now yelled Hunston, struggling with mad desperation.
"Then we'll all have a hand in it," said Harkaway; "we'll all pull together, so that no one can fix it upon his fellow—"
"You'll not escape," yelled the miserable wretch. "You'll swing for it yourself; you will, I swear. You have no witnesses; these two sailors are notorious liars."