“No, no, don’t, Captain Jarette. I’ll work with you, and stick to you, and help you always. Don’t do that.”
“You—you cowardly, sneaking traitor! Who’d trust you an inch out of his sight? Over with him, lads. No, no, not there. Over with him here.”
“Help! Mercy, pray! help! help!” came with frantic shrieks, for the poor fellow evidently did not know of the boat over the side. He felt that he was going to his death, and then he was evidently clinging to something, for there was a pause, and in a hoarse yell we heard him cry—
“Don’t kill me, Jarette, and I’ll tell you where the money-chests are stowed.”
“You? Why, I know. Over with him!” cried Jarette, and then, uttering shrieks that horrified us, we saw Walters for a moment above the bulwarks in the full light of the lanterns, and then he was pitched outwards, shrieking as he fell, a loud splash and a gurgling noise, which ceased suddenly, telling us where he had gone down.
The boat was pushed along in the darkness, and without an order being given.
“See him?” said Mr Brymer, in a hurried whisper.
“No, sir, not yet,” growled Bob Hampton.
Almost at that moment there was a wild shriek for help just by the boat’s side, and Dumlow growled out—
“I got him.”