Be lettin’ me lay down an’ slape a bit. Then I’ll be warm an’
the blood’ll flow.”
“’Tis no use，” Sullivan objected. “As if ye cud be slapin’
at a time like this. Ye’ll not slape， and ye’ll not warm up.
Look at ye now. You’ve an ague.”
“I was sick at Limerick wan night，” O’Brien hurried on，“an’ the dochtor cudn’t bleed me. But after slapin’ a fewhours an’ gettin’ warm in bed the blood came freely. It’sGod’s truth I’m tellin’ yez. Don’t be murderin’ me！”
“His veins are open now，” the captain said. “’Tis no useleavin’ him in his pain. Do it now an’ be done with it.”
They started to reach for O’Brien， but he backed away.
“I’ll be the death iv yez！” he screamed. “Take yer handsoff iv me， Sullivan！ I’ll come back！ I’ll haunt yez！ Wakin’ orslapin’， I’ll haunt yez till you die！”
“’Tis disgraceful！” yelled Behane. “If the short stick’dben mine， I’d a-let me mates cut the head off iv me an’
died happy.”
Sullivan leaped in and caught the unhappy lad by thehair. The rest of the men followed， O’Brien kicked andstruggled， snarling and snapping at the hands that clutchedhim from every side. Little Johnny Sheehan broke outinto wild screaming， but the men took no notice of him.
O’Brien was bent backward to the deck， the tureen coverunder his neck. Gorman was shoved forward. Some onehad thrust a large sheath-knife into his hand.
“Do yer duty！ Do yer duty！” the men cried.
The cook bent over， but he caught the boy’s eyes andfaltered.
“If ye don’t， I’ll kill ye with me own hands，” Behaneshouted.
From every side a torrent of abuse and threats poured inupon the cook. Still he hung back.
“Maybe there’ll be more blood in his veins thanO’Brien’s，” Sullivan suggested significantly.
Behane caught Gorman by the hair and twisted his headback， while Sullivan attempted to take possession of thesheath-knife. But Gorman clung to it desperately.
“Lave go， an’ I’ll do ut！” he screamed frantically. “Don’tbe cuttin’ me throat！ I’ll do the deed！ I’ll do the deed！”
“See that you do it， then，” the captain threatened him.
Gorman allowed himself to be shoved forward. Helooked at the boy， closed his eyes， and muttered a prayer.
Then， without opening his eyes， he did the deed thathad been appointed him. O’Brien emitted a shriek thatsank swiftly to a gurgling sob. The men held him till hisstruggles ceased， when he was laid upon the deck. Theywere eager and impatient， and with oaths and threats theyurged Gorman to hurry with the preparation of the meal.
“Lave ut， you bloody butchers，” Mahoney said quietly.
“Lave ut， I tell yez. Ye’ll not be needin’ anny iv ut now. ’Tisas I said： ye’ll not be profitin’ by the lad’s blood. Empty utoverside， Behane. Empty ut overside.”
Behane， still holding the tureen cover in both his hands，glanced to windward. He walked to the rail and threw thecover and contents into the sea. A full-rigged ship wasbearing down upon them a short mile away. So occupiedhad they been with the deed just committed， that nonehad had eyes for a lookout. All hands watched her comingon—the brightly coppered forefoot parting the water likea golden knife， the headsails flapping lazily and emptilyat each downward surge， and the towering canvas tiersdipping and curtsying with each stately swing of the sea.
No man spoke.
As she hove to， a cable length away， the captain of theFrancis Spaight bestirred himself and ordered a tarpaulinto be thrown over O’Brien’s corpse. A boat was loweredfrom the stranger’s side and began to pull toward them.
John Gorman laughed. He laughed softly at first， but heaccompanied each stroke of the oars with spasmodicallyincreasing glee. It was this maniacal laughter that greetedthe rescue boat as it hauled alongside and the first officerclambered on board.
