The other answered, “Ay, ay; for God’s sake, Tom Smith, throw down your arms and yield, or you are all dead men this moment.” “Who must we yield to? Where are they?” says Smith again. “Here they are,” says he; “here’s our captain and fifty men with him, have been hunting you these two hours; the boatswain is killed; Will Fry is wounded, and I am a prisoner; and if you do not yield you are all lost.” “Will they give us quarter, then?” says Tom Smith, “and we will yield.” “I’ll go and ask, if you promise to yield,” said Robinson: so he asked the captain, and the captain himself then calls out, “You, Smith, you know my voice; if you lay down your arms immediately and submit, you shall have your lives, all but Will Atkins.”