“And there’s the fellow who did it,” exclaimed George, pointing to Sam, who still lay huddled in a heap in the stern. No one had paid the slightest attention to the negro since he had been hauled aboard. He was exhausted, but in no danger, as could be plainly seen from his regular and heavy breathing.
“We ought to throw him overboard, too,” said John.
“He’s not entirely to blame,” said Grant. “He’s ignorant and superstitious and doesn’t know any better, but we do, and we must act accordingly.”
“He committed a crime, though,” said John, “and we ought to hand him over to the authorities.”
“What authorities?” said Grant with a grim smile. “Just look around you. There isn’t even a boat or a bit of land in sight, let alone authorities.”
“Then we ought to punish him ourselves,” insisted John.
“Who are we to do a thing like that!” said George. “We’ve no right to take the law into our own hands.”
At this moment Sam stirred and finally sat up. He was soaking wet still and very weak. He blinked at the sun, which was now shining brightly, and looked dazedly about him. The four boys watched him in silence.
“Where is I?” demanded Sam at length.
“Where do you think you are?” exclaimed John. “You’re in a boat.”