ody, even that of their own captain. They might hesitate,
discuss, but they would never flee in panic. Surely not with that
ruffian Estada yet alive to lead them, and the knowledge that fifty
thousand pounds was yonder in that unguarded house, with no one to
protect the treasure but two old men asleep, and the women. The
women!--Dorothy! What would become of her? Into whose hands would she
fall in that foul division of spoils? Estada's? Good God--yes! And I,
afloat and helpless in this boat, what could I do?

CHAPTER IX

A SWIM TO THE NAMUR

All was black, hopeless; with head buried in my hands I sat on a
thwart, dazed and stupefied, seemingly even unable to think clearly.
Before me, pleading, expressive of agonized despair, arose the sweet
face of Dorothy Fairfax. Nothing else counted with me at that moment
but her safety--the protecting her from the touch of that
blood-stained brute. Yet how, and through what means, could such
rescue be accomplished? No doubt by this time all was over--the dead
body of Sanchez discovered, the projected attack on the house carried
out, the two old men left behind, either dead or severely wounded, and
the girl borne off a helpless prisoner, together with the treasure of
fifty thousand pounds. Even if I knew where the drifting boat had
taken me, which way to turn to once again attain the wharf, the
probability remained that I should arrive altogether too late to be of
slightest service--the dastardly deed had already been accomplished.
Ay, but this I knew; there was only one place to which the villains
might flee with their booty--the _Namur of Rotterdam_. Only on those
decks, and well at sea, would they be safe, or able to enjoy their
spoils. The thought came to me in sudden revelation--why not? Was not
here a chance even yet to foil them? With Sanchez dead, no man aboard
that pirate craft would recognize me. I felt assured of this. I had
fought the giant negro in the dark; he could not, during that fierce
encounter, have distinguished my features any more clearly than I had
his own. There was no one else to fear. Although I had been stationed
at the wheel of the sloop as we swept past the _Namur_ while at anchor
the day before, yet Estada, watching anxiously for the secret signal
of his chief, would never have accorded me so much as a glance. His
interest was concentrated elsewhere, and, in all probability, he could
not swear whether I was black or white. If others of that d