The landing was defended by Quilt Arnold and the Jew. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. She turned her head to each side. Upon this island whither he was bound there would be no diversions, breathing spells; the battle would be constant. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal.
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