But the "old man" swam a losing race. His vessel was gliding away
from him: his face grew pale, and in an agony of fear and despair,
he called to the men for God's sake to take him on board and he would
forgive everything.

But his call came too late; he could find no sureties for his good
behaviour in the future; he had never in his life shown any love for
God or pity for man, and he found in his utmost need neither mercy
nor pity now. He strained his eyes in vain over the crests of the
restless billows, calling for the help that did not come. The
receding sails never shivered; no land was near, no vessel in sight.
The sun went down, and the hopeless sinner was left struggling alone
on the black waste of waters.

The men released the cook and held a consultation about a troublesome
point of law. Had they committed mutiny and murder, or only
justifiable homicide? They felt that the point was a very important
one to them--a matter of life and death--and they stood in a
group near the tiller to discuss the difficulty, speaking low, while
the cook was shivering in the forecastle, trying to ease the pain.

The conclusion of the seamen was, that they had done what was right,
both in law and conscience. They had thrown Blogg overboard to
prevent him from murdering the cook, and also for their own safety.
After they had done their duty by seizing him, he would have killed
them if he could. He was a drunken sweep. He was an outlaw, and the
law would not protect him. Anybody could kill an outlaw without fear
of consequences, so they had heard. But still there was some doubt
about it, and there was nobody there to put the case for the captain.
The law was, at that time, a terrible thing, especially in Van