was hoisted off the
brass pivot gun amidships and lowered into the water. Then Gascoyne
gave the helm to one of the men, with directions to hold it exactly as
it then lay, and, hurrying down below, speedily returned, to the
astonishment of every one, with a man in his arms.

"Now, Connway," said Gascoyne, as he cut the cords that bound the man
and removed the handkerchief from his mouth, "I'm a man of few words,
and to-night have less time than usual to speak. I set you free. Get
into that boat--one oar will suffice to guide it--the wind will drive it
to the island. I send it as a parting gift to Manton and my former
associates. It is large enough to hold them all. Tell them that I
repent of my sins, and the sooner they do the same the better. I cannot
now undo the evil I have done them. I can only furnish the means of
escape, so that they may have time and opportunity to mend their ways,
and, hark 'ee, the sooner they leave this plane the better. It will no
longer be a safe retreat. Farewell!"

While he was speaking he led the man by the arm to the side of the
schooner, and constrained him to get into the boat. As he uttered the
last word he cut the rope that held it, and let it drop astern.

Gascoyne immediately resumed his place at the helm, and once more the
schooner was running through the water, almost gunwale under, towards
the place where the _Wasp_ had been wrecked.

Without uttering a word of explanation, and apparently forgetful of
every one near him, the pirate continued during the remainder of that
night to steer the _Foam_ out and in among the roaring breakers, as if
he were trying how near he could venture to the jaws of destruction
without actually plunging into them. As the night wore on the sky
cleared up, and the scene of foaming desolation that was presented by
the breakers in the midst of which they flew, was almost enough to appal
the stoutest heart.

The crew looked on in moody silence. They knew that their lives were
imperilled, but they felt that they had no resource. No one dared to
address the silent, stern man who stood like an iron statue at the helm
the whole of that night. Towards morning, he steered out from among the
dangerous coral reefs and ran south, straight before the wind.

Then Corrie summoned up courage, and, going aft to Gascoyne, looked up
in his face and said--

"You're searching for Henry, I think?"

"Yes, boy. I am," answered the pirate, and a gleam