He
walked forward, and went down into his cabin again, where he found
Smallbones helping himself to biscuit, for the lad was hungry, as well
he might be; but on this occasion Mr Vanslyperken took no notice.
"Smallbones," said he, "one of the men has left his paint-pot on the
stage, under the stern, go and bring it in immediately."
"Yes, sir," replied Smallbones, surprised at the unusually quiet style
of his master's address to him.
Smallbones ran up the ladder, went aft, and slid down by the rope which
held the plank used as a stage by the painters. Mr Vanslyperken seized
his carving-knife, and following softly on deck, went aft. He took a
hurried look forward--there was no one on deck. For a moment, he
hesitated at the crime; he observed the starboard rope shake, for
Smallbones was just about to shin up again. The devil prevailed. Mr
Vanslyperken sawed through the rope, heard the splash of the lad in the
water, and, frightened at his own guilt, ran down below, and gained his
cabin. There he seated himself, trembling like an aspen leaf. It was the
first time that he had been a _murderer_.
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