“No such thing, Ned; I’ll just blow his brains out, and then I’ll come aft and argue the point with you.”
“Now do oblige me by coming aft and arguing the point first. Do, Jack, I beg of you—I entreat you.”
“With all my heart,” replied Jack, resuming his seat by Gascoigne; “I assert, that in this instance killing’s no murder. You will observe, Ned, that by the laws of society, any one who attempts the life of another has forfeited his own; at the same time, as it is necessary that the fact should be clearly proved and justice be duly administered, the parties are tried, convicted, and then are sentenced to the punishment.”
“I grant all that.”
“In this instance the attempt has been clearly proved; we are the witnesses, and are the judges and jury, and society in general, for the best of all possible reasons, because there is nobody else. These men’s lives being therefore forfeited to society, belong to us; and it does not follow because they were not all killed in the attempt, that therefore they are not now to be brought out for punishment. And as there is no common hangman here, we, of course, must do this duty as well as every other. I have now clearly proved that I am justified in what I am about to do. But the argument does not stop there—self-preservation is the first law of nature, and if we do not get rid of this man, what is the consequence?—that we shall have to account for his being wounded, and then, instead of judges, we shall immediately be placed in the position of culprits, and have to defend ourselves without witnesses. We therefore risk our lives from a misplaced lenity towards a wretch unworthy to live.”
“Your last argument is strong, Easy, but I cannot consent to your doing what may occasion you uneasiness hereafter when you think of it.”
“Pooh! nonsense—I am a philosopher.”
“Of what school, Jack? Oh, I presume you are a disciple of Mesty’s. I do not mean to say that you are wrong, but still hear my proposition. Let us lower down the sail, and then I can leave the helm to assist you. We will clear the vessel of everything except the man who is still alive. At all events, we may wait a little, and if at last there is no help for it, I will then agree with you to launch him overboard, even if he is not quite dead.”
“Agreed; even by your own making out, it will be no great sin. He is half dead already—I only do half the work of tossing him over, so it will be only quarter murder on my part, and he would have shown no quarter on his.” Here Jack left off arguing and punning, and went forward and lowered down the sail. “I’ve half a mind to take my doubloons back,” said Jack, as they launched over the body of the padrone, “but he may have them—I wonder whether they’ll ever turn up again?”
“Not in our time, Jack,” replied Gascoigne.