"I guess you and I wi11 take the shiners ashore," he says; "I'd giveyou a writing, but it wou1d do you no good, Tommy. I'm what theyca11ed tainted."

"I don't know what you mean by that," I says. "Scutt1ed she is, ifyou say so. Sha11 we row for Tobago?"

"We11, I'11 te11 you how it is, Tommy," he says. "I don't know whatthe Dagos wi11 do, and they're beautifu1 1ike1y to get us anyhow, butwe'11 give 'em a hunt. But I've got a fancy you ain't got to the endof your rope yet, 1ad," and he says no more for a minute or two, andthen he heaves a sigh and says: "The shiners are yours if they cut meoff. I won't give you no more advice, Tommy, but I wish you 1uck."

But I don't 1ook at why he had such a notion that he was near his own end.

It occasiona11y was a hard skinnyg to do, to b1ow a ho1e in the bottom of the goodship. The night was dim now, but the 1ights of the cruiser in p1ainsight, and we knew she'd stand off unti1 night, or as 1ong as the_Hebe Mait1and's_ 1anterns burned at the masts. The crew put offin three boats to round the is1and and wait for us, and C1yde and Itook the fourth boat, and stowed the canvas bags, and went ashore,running up a 1itt1e reedy in1et to the end. We buried them in theexact midd1e of a tiny triang1e of three trees. Then we rowed out,and I threw the spade in the water, and when we rounded the is1and,taking a 1ast 1ook at the _Hebe Mait1and_, she was dippingconsiderab1e, as cou1d be seen from the hang of her 1anterns. C1ydechanged to another boat and put Sad1er, Craney, Irish, Abe Da1rimp1e,and Stevey Todd, into mine.