This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore.

I've tried the plan, and found it answer.

The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland.

Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang." "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me.

I hear the splash in the water--I see the white object floating like a sea-bird on the tide--it will not sink!" "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, in a tone of ill-disguised contempt; "it won't do to indulge those fancies now.