"Death!  Death!" shouted the smugglers with no uncertain voice.  Crocker made a desperate effort, shook off the men who advanced to hold him, and, flinging himself down before the captain, clasped his knees and begged for mercy. In a second, however, his executioners sprang upon him and bound him hand and foot, and a scarf was fastened over his eyes. One of the men drew a pistol.  I watched the scene, for the moment unmindful of my dangerous position, but drawn by an indescribable feeling to watch the last moments of a doubly-dyed rogue.