What a crack he'll come down into the water with, to be sure.

It's to be hoped the poor man is dead, for his own sake, before he takes that flight.

Hallo!" added Scraggs, with an energetic shout and a look of surprise; "I say, that's one of _our_ men; I know him by his striped flannel shirt.

If he would only give up kicking for a second, I'd make out his--Humph! it's all up with him, now, poor fellow, whoever he is." As he said the last words, the figure of a man was seen to shoot out from the cliff, and, descending with ever-increasing rapidity, to strike the water with terrific violence, sending up a jet of white foam as it disappeared.
"Stand by to lower the gig," shouted Manton.
"Aye, aye, sir," was the hearty response of the men, as some of them sprang to obey.
"Lower away!" The boat struck water, and its crew were on the thwarts in a moment.

At the same time the point of the island was passed, and the native village opened up to view.
"Load Long Tom--double shot!" roared Manton, whose ire was raised not so much at the idea of a fellow-creature having been so barbarously murdered as at the notion of one of the crew of his schooner having been so treated by contemptible niggers.