The French bully went on to justify his proposition by argument. We were not all equal, he said—there were able seamen—and common sailors—and I was but a boy. Why should I have a chance like the rest? It was preposterous.
Brace opposed his arguments—appealed to the crew—to their sense of justice and fair play—let lots be cast, said he, and let him take his chance with the rest—that was the only fair and honest mode—the only way worthy of men.
Bah! these were not men. One and all were but too glad to grasp at any means that would deliver them from the perilous raffle. The sophistic arguments of Le Gros satisfied them. The infamous motion prevailed. It was decreed that I should die!
Chapter Sixty Six.
Yes—it was decreed that I should die.
The time and the mode alone remained to be determined; but these points were soon settled. For the former it was to be then—instantly—and as to the mode, I was to be bled to death!
These resolves were made with a despatch that allowed no time for reflection—scarcely time for speech or protestation. The ferocious wolves were eager for their prey.
It was their determination to act promptly to the time; for, without further hesitation, half-a-dozen of the most forward in the business advanced towards me—evidently with the intent to put their design into execution!