old his end up with a man like you describe."

And he turned to go away. The words had been quite simple; not so the
tone; and the other was quick to catch it.

"Davis!" he cried, "no! Don't do it. Spare _me_, and don't do it--spare
yourself, and leave it alone--for God's sake, for your children's sake!"

His voice rose to a passionate shrillness; another moment, and he might
be overheard by their not distant victim. But Davis turned on him with a
savage oath and gesture; and the miserable young man rolled over on his
face on the sand, and lay speechless and helpless.

The captain meanwhile set out rapidly for Attwater's house. As he went,
he considered with himself eagerly, his thoughts racing. The man had
understood, he had mocked them from the beginning; he would teach him to
make a mockery of John Davis! Herrick thought him a god; give him a
second to aim in, and the god was overthrown. He chuckled as he felt the
butt of his revolver. It should be done now, as he went in. From
behind? It was difficult to get there. From across the table? No, the
captain preferred to shoot standing, so as you could be sure to get your
hand upon your gun. The best would be to summon Huish, and when Attwater
stood up and turned--ah, then would be the moment. Wrapped in this
ardent prefiguration of events, the captain posted towards the house
with his head down.

"Hands up! Halt!" cried the voice of Attwater.

And the captain, before he knew what he was doing, had obeyed. The
surprise was complete and irremediable. Coming on the top crest of his
murderous intentions, he had walked straight into an ambuscade, and now
stood, with his hands impotently lifted, staring at the verandah.

The party was now broken up. Attwater leaned on a post, and kept Davis
covered with a Winchester. One of the servants was hard by with a second
at the port arms, leaning a little forward, round-eyed with eager
expectancy. In the open space at the head of the stair, Huish was partly
supported by the other native; his face wreathed in meaningless smiles,
his mind seemingly sunk in the contemplation of an unlighted cigar.

"Well," said Attwater, "you seem to me to be a very twopenny pirate!"

The captain uttered a sound in his throat for which we have no name;
rage choked him.

"I am going to give you Mr. Whish--or the wine-sop that remains of him,"
continued Attwater. "He talks a great deal when he drinks, Captain Davis
of the _Sea Ranger_. But I have