The boy, not knowing what was toward, and mightily perplexed, did as he was bidden, and so stood up facing Rodrigues. But one of the seamen, cursing him for his went of manners—as he put it—twisted him round so that he faced the sea.
"Walk!" cried Rodrigues, when the boy was thus positioned.
Whereupon the boy, still unwitting, walked forward towards the bulwarks and there stopped.
"Walk!" cries Rodrigues, a little louder than heretofore.
Then the perplexed boy made another step forward, but seeing that if he walked further he must overbalance the board, and so shoot into the sea below, he stopped again.
"Walk!" cries Rodrigues again, this time whipping out his sword.
Then the boy, seeing the meaning of this, fell upon his knees, crying for pity, and telling all he knew and had hitherto concealed—to wit, that Tonga did make him draw the bolt of the trap in the captain's cabin that morning he went for his silver-braided coat, and that it was from the armory and not from the hold the black cried to him for drink, and also that he had helped him to get down in the hold, and dared not do otherwise for fear of his life.
"You hear this, Tonga," says Rodrigues. "Now will you tell me how you got that cut?"
"She did it!" roars the negro, with the ferocity of any tiger, pointing with his hand towards Lady Biddy, while flames of fire seemed to flash in his eyes. "She did it!"