"'As 'e got any-thin' in about my 'orrible death an'
execution? Ex_cuse_ me, but if I open my eyes, I shan't be well. That's
where I'm different from _all_ other men. Ahem!"
"What about Glass's execution?" demanded Pyecroft.
"The book's in French," I replied.
"Then it's no good to me."
"Precisely. Now I want you to tell your story just as it happened. I'll
check it by this book. Take a cigar. I know about his being dragged out of
the cutter. What I want to know is what was the meaning of all the other
things, because they're unusual."
"They were," said Mr. Pyecroft with emphasis. "Lookin' back on it as I set
here more an' more I see what an 'ighly unusual affair it was. But it
happened. It transpired in the _Archimandrite_--the ship you can trust...
Antonio! Ther beggar!"
"Take your time, Mr. Pyecroft."
In a few moments we came to it thus--
"The old man was displeased. I don't deny he was quite a little
displeased. With the mail-boats trottin' into Madeira every twenty
minutes, he didn't see why a lop-eared Portugee had to take liberties with
a man-o'-war's first cutter. Any'ow, we couldn't turn ship round for him.
We drew him out and took him out to Number One. 'Drown 'im,' 'e says.
'Drown 'im before 'e dirties my fine new decks.' But our owner was
tenderhearted. 'Take him to the galley,' 'e says. 'Boil 'im! Skin 'im!
Cook 'im! Cut 'is bloomin' hair? Take 'is bloomin' number! We'll have him
executed at Ascension.
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