Poor Smallbones had, in the meantime, discovered what was going on, and
thought that he might as well urge something in his own defence.

"If you please, what are you going for to do with me?" said the lad,
with a terrified look.

"Lead him forward," said Mr Vanslyperken; "follow me, marines;" and the
whole party, headed by the lieutenant, went before the mast.

"Strip him," cried Mr Vanslyperken.

"Strip me, with the snow flying like this! An't I cold enough already?"

"You'll be colder when you're under the bottom of the cutter," replied
his master.

"O Lord! then it is keel-hauling a'ter all; why what have I done?" cried
Smallbones, as the marines divested him of his shirt, and exposed his
emaciated body to the pitiless storm.

"Where's Snarleyyow, sir?--confess."

"Snarleyyow--how should I know, sir? it's very hard, because your dog is
not to be found, that I'm to be dragged under the bottom of a vessel."

"I'll teach you to throw paving-stones in the canal."

"Paving-stones, sir!" and Smallbones' guilty conscience flew in his
face. "Well, sir, do as you please, I'm sure I don't care; if I am to be
killed, be quick about it--I'm sure I sha'n't come up alive."