"This," said he to the first officer, "is all that I have found; a suspicious portfolio with letters."
"Give them here," said Mr. Mathew. "Letters with Federal stamps! Mr. Halliburtt, of Boston! An abolitionist! a Federalist! Wretch! you are nothing but a traitor, and have sneaked on board to betray us! Never mind, you will be paid for your trouble with the cat-o'-nine-tails! Boatswain, call the captain, and you others, just keep an eye on that rogue there."
Crockston received these compliments with a hideous grimace, but did not open his lips. They had fastened him to the capstan, and he could move neither hand nor foot.
A few moments later James Playfair came hastening to the forecastle, where Mr. Mathew immediately acquainted him with the details of the case.
"What have you to say?" asked James Playfair, scarcely able to restrain his anger.
"Nothing," replied Crockston.
"And what did you come on board my ship for?"
"Nothing."
"And what do you expect from me now?"
"Nothing."
"Who are you? An American, as these letters seem to prove?"
Crockston did not answer.
"Boatswain," said James Playfair, "fifty lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails to loosen his tongue. Will that be enough, Crockston?"
"It will remain to be seen," replied John Stiggs's uncle without moving a muscle.
"Now then, come along, men," said the boatswain.
At this order, two strong sailors stripped Crockston of his woolen jersey; they had already seized the formidable weapon, and laid it across the prisoner's shoulders, when the novice, John Stiggs, very pale and agitated, hurried on deck.
"Captain!" exclaimed he.
"Ah! the nephew!" remarked James Playfair.
"Captain," repeated the novice, with a violent effort to steady his voice, "I will tell you what Crockston does not want to say. I will hide it no longer; yes, he is American, and so am I; we are both enemies of the slave-holders, but
