As Captain Toplift knew how I had been treated by him, he thought it was time he should be confronted with me, and to his question as to whether there was any thing to dispose of, he replied to him, “You must put that question to the captain. There he is.”
The fellow turned to me; he looked at me, stared, and was mute, when his cub of a boy cried out, “As sure as a gun it’s he, father, and no mistake.”
“Oh, you imp of Satan, you know me, do you?” replied I. “Yes, it is he. Send all the men aft.”
The men came fast enough. They were only waiting till I had spoken to them to come and give information against him.
“Now, my lads,” said I, “this is a scoundrel who fell in with some of us when we were in distress, after we had lost our vessel. Instead of behaving as one seaman does to another, he robbed us of all we had, and turned us adrift naked to be killed by the Indians. Of all, I and the two Portuguese you took on board about four months back are the only three left: the others perished. The one who was with me was burnt to death by the Indians, and I narrowly escaped. I leave you to decide what this scoundrel merits.”
“But there is more against him, captain,” said the men, and then four of them stepped out and declared that he had run away with the money belonging to the crew of which they were a part, and that the sum he had stolen amounted to 25,000 dollars.
“What have you to say for yourself?” said I to him.
“That I have been a cursed fool to be caught as I have been.”
“What will they do, father?”
“Hang us, I suppose,” replied he.