Captain Jonas sang with spirit. When he reached the fifth line he waved his hands above his head, thus releasing his wooden leg, which waved also in midair. The rest joined in with a good will, and sang both the fifth and sixth line with so great a noise that I feared not only would they awaken Cynthia, but Mauresco, Wiggins, and the Turk as well.
"That was the song Ned England used to sing. Brave Ned England! Merry Ned England!" squeaked the Admiral of the Red. "We shall never look on his like in this world. He was a dare-devil dog, if ever there was one!"
I watched young Trevelyan as he stood alone, pale and dejected. When the chorus had ended, the Admiral's thin voice was heard saying:
"A shooting bout! a shooting bout!" The lad winced and closed his eyes. But it was not yet time for his torture to begin.
"Turn me round! turn me round!" was the Admiral's next order. "I'll lead off."
Several of the Admiral's followers ran to twist him in the right direction, which we found to be a position in which he faced the niches where the skeletons hung.
"You see Sir Evylyn Wulbur's left eye?" questioned the Admiral. "The left eye for a thousand pounds!"
"A thousand pounds! a thousand pounds!" shouted the band. Crack! went the ball. There was a slight tremor of the frame, but the shining skull remained apparently uninjured.
"A fine shot!" said Captain Jonas. "Try the right eye, Admiral."
"The right eye," said the Admiral, complying readily.