come at last for you to put your threat into execution, I mean regarding the six dozen you once dared to say you would give me if you had me in the colonies—there, Sir, is a rope, begin:" and the mate, thrusting a rope into Mr. Robberson's hand, presented his broad back in an attractive attitude for flagellation. "Come, Sir," said the mate to his unwilling antagonist, who was so overcome with conflicting feelings (in which fear and cowardice held the predominance), that he remained speechless, and although with the rope in his hand, he looked very much more like a man who was going to receive a castigation, than to give one. "Perhaps, Sir," continued the mate, "it may be more agreeable to your feelings to give me a written apology." The great-little man began stammering out something intended to mollify the mate's wrath, but it had the contrary effect; for he proceeded coolly to tuck up his sleeves:—this demonstration induced Mr. Robberson to say, "I—really I have no intention——I don't wish to give anybody a thrashing."
"And do you fancy, Mr. Robberson, that I'll take that for an apology?"
"What more can you expect from a Colonial Magistrate?" said he.
The mate smote upon a hen's coop with his heavy fist and split in the top—"I expect nothing from such magistrates as you but what would disgrace any Bench but a Colonial one; in proof of which assertion," continued he, "I shall expect you to sign this;" and he produced from his pocket a slip of paper, and fetched a pen from the cabin.
Mr. Robberson was dodging below, but was met part way by the mate. The stout man looked far more like a convict than one who had been accustomed to sit in judgement on that unfortunate class.
