"To _hell_ I hope, with _those who brought us here!_" replied the man,
grinding his teeth with a scowl of deep revenge.

At this moment Judy Malony came pattering along the wet deck with a kid of
potato-peelings to throw over the bows. Newton recognised her, and thanked
her for her kindness.

"It's a nice boy that you are, sure enough, now that you're swate and
clean," replied Judy. "Bad luck to the rapparee who gave you the blow! I
axed my husband if it was he; but he swears upon his salvation that it
was no one if it wasn't Tim O'Connor, the baste!"

"Where are we going?" inquired Newton.

"An't we going to dinner in a minute or two?"

"I mean where is the cutter bound to?"

"Oh! the cutter you mane! If she can only find her way, it's to
Plymouth, sure;--they're waiting for ye."

"Who is waiting for us?"

"Why, three fine frigates as can't go to sea without hands. You never
heard of a ship sailing without hands; the poor dumb craturs can't do
nothing by themselves."

"Do you know where the frigates are going?"