To produce a
two-inch rope, and junk it into three lengths, and rig the battering
ram, was the work of an instant. "One, two, three,"--and bang the door
flew open, and there were our men stowed away, each sitting on the top
of his bag, as snug as could be, although looking very much like
condemned thieves. We bound eight of them, thrusting a stretcher
across their backs, under their arms, and lashing the fins to the same
by good stout lanyards, we were proceeding to stump our prisoners off
to the boat, when, with the innate deviltry that I have inherited, I
know not how, but the original sin of which has more than once nearly
cost me my life, I said, without addressing my superior officer, or any
one else directly, "I should like now to scale my pistol through that
coffin. If I miss, I can't hurt the old woman; and an eyelet hole in
the coffin itself will only be an act of civility to the worms."
I looked towards my superior officer, who answered me with a knowing
shake of the head. I advanced, while all was silent as death--the
sharp click of the pistol lock now struck acutely on my own ear. I
presented, when--crash--the lid of the coffin, old woman and all, was
dashed off in an instant, the corpse flying up in the air, and then
falling heavily on the floor, rolling over and over, while a tall
handsome fellow, in his striped flannel shirt and blue trousers, with
the sweat pouring down over his face in streams, sat up in the shell.
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