“What are you going to do to my father?” he asked in accents choked with emotion.
“My boy,” said M. Letourneur, “the lot has fallen upon me, and I must die!”
“Never!” shrieked Andre, throwing his arms about his father, “They shall kill me first. It was I who threw Hobart’s body into the sea, and it is I who ought to die!”
But the words of the unhappy youth had no other effect than to increase the fury of the men who were so staunchly bent upon their bloody purpose.
“Come, come, no more fuss,” said Dowlas, as he tore the young man away from his father’s embrace.
Andre fell upon his back, in which position two of the sailors held him down so tightly that he could not move, whilst Burke and Sandon carried off their victim to the front.
All this had taken place much more rapidly than I have been able to describe it. I was transfixed with horror, and much as I wished to throw myself between M. Letourneur and his executioners, I seemed to be rooted to the spot where I was standing.
Meantime the sailors had been taking off some of M. Letourneur’s clothes, and his neck and shoulders were already bare.
“Stop a moment!” he said in a tone in which was the ring of indomitable courage. “Stop! I don’t want to deprive you of your ration; but I suppose you will not require to eat the whole of me today.”
The sailors, taken aback by his suggestion, stared at him with amazement.