on that
account disregard the words, nor did Hagthorpe, nor yet the others
who overheard them, as they showed at a council held that night in the
cabin.

This council was met to determine what should be done with the Spanish
prisoners. Considering that Curacao now lay beyond their reach, as
they were running short of water and provisions, and also that Pitt was
hardly yet in case to undertake the navigation of the vessel, it had
been decided that, going east of Hispaniola, and then sailing along
its northern coast, they should make for Tortuga, that haven of the
buccaneers, in which lawless port they had at least no danger of
recapture to apprehend. It was now a question whether they should convey
the Spaniards thither with them, or turn them off in a boat to make the
best of their way to the coast of Hispaniola, which was but ten miles
off. This was the course urged by Blood himself.

"There's nothing else to be done," he insisted. "In Tortuga they would
be flayed alive."

"Which is less than the swine deserve," growled Wolverstone.

"And you'll remember, Peter," put in Hagthorpe, "that boy's threat to
you this morning. If he escapes, and carries word of all this to his
uncle, the Admiral, the execution of that threat will become more than
possible."

It says much for Peter Blood that the argument should have left him
unmoved. It is a little thing, perhaps, but in a narrative in which
there is so much that tells against him, I cannot--since my story is
in the nature of a brief for the defence--afford to slur a circumstance
that is so strongly in his favour, a circumstance revealing that the
cynicism attributed to him proceeded from his reason and from a brooding
over wrongs rather than from any natural instincts. "I care nothing for
his threats."

"You should," said Wolverstone. "The wise thing'd be to hang him, along
o' all the rest."

"It is not human to be wise," said Blood. "It is much more human to
err, though perhaps exceptional to err on the side of mercy. We'll be
exceptional. Oh, faugh! I've no stomach for cold-blooded killing. At
daybreak pack the Spaniards into a boat with a keg of water and a sack
of dumplings, and let them go to the devil."

That was his last word on the subject, and it prevailed by virtue of the
authority they had vested in him, and of which he had taken so firm a
grip. At daybreak Don Esteban and his followers were put off in a boat.

Two days later, the Cinco Llagas sailed i