tried to sleep among the dry sea-weed.—First there was that d—d fellow there with his broken back, sprawling as he did when I hurled the rock over a-top on un—ha, ha! you would have sworn he was lying on the floor where you stand, wriggling like a crushed frog;–and then"———
"Nay, my friend, what signifies going over this nonsense?—if you are turned chicken-hearted, why the game's up, that's all—the game's up with us both."
"Chicken-hearted?—No. I have not lived so long upon the account to start at last, neither for deyvil nor Dutchman."
"Well, then; take another schnaps—the cold's at your heart still.—And now tell me, are any of your old crew with you?"
"Nein—all dead, hanged, drowned, and damned. Brown was the last—all dead but Gypsey Gab, and he would go off the country for a spill of money—or he'll be quiet for his own sake—or old Meg, his aunt, will keep him quiet for her's."
"Which Meg?"
