"Sit still, Pompey," said the negro's neighbour. "I'll take it out of the way."
"Ah! massa hurt poor Pompey," cried the black to his next man, who had wound the chain round his feet, and now gave it so sudden a pull that the negro let go his oar and fell back in the boat. The young Englishman became suddenly attentive to what passed.
"What are you about?" cried he; "what are you doing to the poor negro?"
"Gor-a-mighty's sake, massa, not joke so with poor Pompey," groaned the negro. "Massa strangle poor nigger."
"It's nothing at all, Pompey; think of your fat Lolli behind the cathedral, and don't forget the way to Nacogdoches," said the man on the sternmost bench, who had taken the chain from his comrade, passed it through the neck-iron, and, violently pulling it, drew the unhappy negro up into a heap.
"Massa, Massa, Ma——!" gasped the negro, whose breath was leaving him.
The whole had been the work of a moment, and the stifled groans and sobs of the agonized slave were nearly drowned by the rush of the waters and splash of the oar-strokes.
"The devil!" cried the Englishman, "what is all this?"
At that moment the board on which he sat was lifted, his fellow-rower threw himself against him with all his force, and nearly succeeded in precipitating him into the stream. Hodges staggered, but managed to regain his balance, and turning quickly upon his treacherous neighbour, dealt him a blow with his fist that knocked him overboard.
"Buen viage á los infiernos!" cried the other Mexicans with a burst of hellish laughter, hearing the splash, but misapprehending its cause.