"And the devil has got his due, my lads--
Sing hey! but he waits for you!

"Yes, John, devil or no devil, _I'm_ waiting for you. As to
having my due, why, a lucky fellow like you shouldn't grudge it.
Why, you've got Lucy, John: what more can you want? We both wanted
Lucy, but you got her, and now she's waiting at home for you.
It would be awkward if I turned up with the news that you were
languishing in gaol--I merely put a case, John--and little Jenny
wouldn't have many sweethearts if it got about that her father--and I
suppose you are her father--"

Before the words were well out of his mouth John had him by the
throat. There was a short, fierce struggle, an oath, a gleam of
light--and then, with a screech of mortal pain and a wild clutch at
the air, my companion fell backwards over the cliff.


It was all the work of a moment--a shriek, a splash, and then
silence. How long the silence lasted I cannot tell. What happened
next--whether I cried or fainted, looked or shut my eyes--is to me an
absolute blank. Only I remember gradually waking up to the fact that
the Captain was standing over me, wiping his knife on a piece of weed
he had picked up on the rock, and regarding me with a steady stare.

I now suppose that during those few moments my life hung in the
balance: but at the time I was too dazed and stunned to comprehend
anything. The Captain slowly replaced his knife, hesitated, went to
the ledge and peered over, and then finally came back to me.