’ Gerald held out his hand, and she meekly gave the dagger up to him. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. "Upon him!" "Yield, villain, or die!" shouted Thames, drawing his sword and springing towards him. Soho! boys. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly.
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