VERY HARD CASH.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND."

CHAPTER XV.

THE two supple dusky forms went whirling so
fast, there was no grasping them to part them.
But presently the negro seized the Hindoo by
the throat; the Hindoo just pricked him in the
arm with his knife, and the next moment his own
head was driven against the side of the cabin
with a stunning crack; and there he was, pinned,
and wriggling, and bluish with fright, whereas
the other swart face close against his was dark
grey with rage, and its two fireballs of eyes rolled
fearfully, as none but African eyes can roll.

Fullalove pacified him by voice and touch: he
withdrew his iron grasp with sullen and lingering
reluctance, and glared like a disappointed mastiff.
The cabin was now full, and Sharpe was for
putting both the blacks in irons. No splitter of
hairs was he. But Fullalove suggested there
might be a moral distinction between things that
looked equally dark to the eye.

"Well, then, speak quick, both of you," said
Sharpe, " or I'll lay ye both by the heels. Ye
black scoundrels, what business have you in the
captain's cabin, kicking up the devil's delight?"

Thus threatened, Vespasian panted out his
tale: he had discovered this nigger, as he
persisted in calling the Hindoo, eternally prowling
about the good captain's door, and asking stupid
questions: he had watched him, and, on the
surgeon coming out with the good news that the
captain was better, in had crawled "this yar
abominable egotisk." And he raised a ponderous
fist to point the polysyllables: with this aid the
sarcasm would doubtless have been crushing:
but Fullalove hung on the sable orator's arm,
and told him dryly to try and speak without
gesticulating. "The darned old cuss," said
Vespasian, with a pathetic sigh at not being let
hit him. He resumed; and told how he had
followed the Hindoo, stealthily, and found him
with a knife uplifted over the captain— a tremor
ran through all present— robbing him. At this
a loud murmur filled the room; a very ugly one,
the sort of snarl with which dogs fly at dogs'
throats with their teeth, and men fly at men's
throats with a cord.

"Be quiet," said Sharpe, imperiously. " I'll
have no lynching in a vessel I command. Now
then, you sir, how do you know he was robbing
the captain?"

"How do I know? Yah! yah! Cap'n, if
you please you tell dis unskeptical gemman
whether you don't miss a lilly book out of your
bosom!"

During this extraordinary scene, Dodd had
been looking from one speaker to another, in
great surprise and some confusion: but, at the
negro's direct appeal, his hand went to his breast
and clutched it with a feeble but heartrending
cry.

"Oh, him not gone far. Yah! yah!" and
Vespasian stooped, and took up an oilskin packet
off the floor; and laid it on the bed: " dis child
seen him in dat ar niggar's hand: and heard him
go whack on de floor."

Dodd hurried the packet into his bosom, then
turned all gratitude to his sable friend: "Now
God bless you! God bless you! Give me your
honest hand! You don't know what you have
done for me and mine."

And, sick as he was, he wrung Vespasian's
hand with convulsive strength, and would not
part with it. Vespasian patted him soothingly
all over, and whimpered out: " Nebber you mind,
cap'n! You bery good man: dis child bery fond
of you a long time ago. You bery good man,
outrageous good man, dam good man! I propose
your health: invalesce directly!"

While Dodd was speaking, the others were
silent out of respect: but now Sharpe broke in,
and, with the national desire to hear both sides,
called on Ramgolam for his version. The Hindoo
was now standing with his arms crossed on his
breast, looking all the martyr, meek and dignified.
He inquired of Sharpe, in very broken
English, whether he spoke Hindostanee?

"Not I: nor don't act it neither," said Sharpe.

At this confession Ramgolam looked down on
him with pity and mild contempt.

Mr. Tickell was put forward as interpreter.

Ramgolam (in Hindostanee.) He, whom Destiny,
too strong for mortals, now oppresses with
iron hand, and feeds with the bread of
affliction—

Mr. Tickell (translating). He, who by bad luck
has got into trouble—

Ramgolam. Has long observed the virtues that