roared for help, splashed about in the water and held out their
hands for aid. Then Olonais went back with the boats and wherever a
soldier's head rose out of the water he slashed it off with a huge
sabre, all but the executioner, whom he recognized by his red cap and
sent back to the governor with his compliments and the message that he
did not need him."

"Your captain was a bold fellow, Moody. What became of him?"

"H'm! H'm! he had a strange end."

"I suppose he was captured at last."

"Far stranger than that. In a fight with savages, he was wounded and
taken prisoner. The scoundrels ate the poor man."

"The boat!" suddenly shouted the man at the helm, and all left the old
pirate and his stories to watch the approaching yawl, which they hailed
with cheers, waving their caps aloft, while the returning men sat
silent, as if they found the meeting less joyful than their comrades.

Skyrme was the captain of the boat. When he reached the sloop he stepped
on her deck with a downcast, angry face, and answered the questions
poured upon him from all sides: "Have you rum, meat, biscuit?" with
"Nothing," and when, wondering at the reply, the men shook their heads,
Skyrme turned to Barthelemy with quivering lips.

"Captain, we are deceived, betrayed, lost."

"What do you mean?"

"Both the ships you intrusted to Kennedy have disappeared."

"Impossible."

"It is true. We searched two days without finding any trace of them; at
last we learned from some fisherman that, as soon as we were out of
sight, they crowded on all sail and went to sea."

A roar of mingled fury and despair greeted these words; the cheated
pirates, with knives uplifted, vowed to inflict a thousand tortures on
the traitors. Barthelemy was deadly pale.

"We will meet them," he said hoarsely. "There is not a moment to lose.
Forward my lads."

"Where?" asked Skyrme despairingly.

"To sea!" answered Barthelemy proudly, pointing to the offing.

"Yes, but in this plight, without a mouthful of bread, a drop of water."

"The first ship will give us both. Woe to those we encounter, they will
fight with fiends."

"But suppose we should meet no vessel for days?"

"There are forty of us. If we meet no ship for two days, we will have a
true pirate banquet; whoever draws the fatal lot will yield us his body
for food, his blood for drink. We are supplied for forty days; those who
survive will inherit our need of vengeance. Forward!"

The savage shout