If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. Taking up a couple of large stones which lay near, Jack tried to beat the round basils of the fetters into an oval form, so as to enable him to slip his heels through them. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. ‘Can I not leave you for a day without you getting yourself into trouble?’ ‘Imbecile,’ she uttered faintly. Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other.
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