"Benjamin Hornigold!" cried the man fiercely, bending his face to hers.

For a second the woman stared at him. Then, recognizing him, she
screamed horribly, raising herself upon her arm.

"Hornigold!" she cried. "What have you done with the child?"

"I left him at Cuchillo, outside the walls," answered the man.

"And the cross?"

"On his breast. The Captain----"

"The marriage lines were there. You betrayed me. May God's curse--nay, I
die. For Christ's sake--I forgive--Francisco, Francisco."

She fell back gasping on the sand. He tore the enclosing coif from her
face. In a vain effort to hold back death's hand for another second,
Hornigold snatched a spirit flask from his belt and strove to force a
drop between her lips. It was too late. She was gone. He knew the signs
too well. He laid her back on the sand, exclaiming:

"Curse her! Why couldn't she have lived a moment longer? The Captain's
brat--and she might have told me. Bring up the prisoners!" he cried to
the guards, who had moved them out of earshot of this strange
conversation.

"The cross," he muttered, "the marriage lines therein. The only clew.
And yet she cried 'Francisco.' That was the name. Who is he? If I could
find that cross. I'd know it among a thousand. Hither," he called to the
prisoners slowly approaching.

"The good sister?" queried Alvarado.

"Dead."

As the young soldier, with an ejaculation of pity, bent forward in the
moonlight to look upon the face of the dead woman, from his torn doublet
a silver crucifix suddenly swung before the eyes of the old buccaneer.

"By heaven!" he cried. "'Tis the cross."

He stepped nearer to Alvarado, seized the carven crucifix, and lifted it
to the light.

"I could swear it was the same," he muttered. "Senor, your name and
rank?"

"I can not conceive that either concerns a bloodthirsty ruffian
like----"

"Stop! Perhaps there is more in this than thou thinkest," said Mercedes.
"Tell him, Alvarado. It can do no harm. Oh, senor, have pity on us!
Unbind me," she added, "I give you my word. I wish but to pay my respect
to the woman yonder."

"She gives good counsel, soldier," answered the boatswain. "Cut her
lashing," he said to the sailor who guarded them.

As the buccaneer did so, Mercedes sank on her knees by the side of the
dead woman.

"Now, sir, your name?" asked Hornigold again.

"Alvarado."

"Where got you that name?"

"It was given me by His Excellency, the Viceroy."

"And whe