ne grumbler of true English breed, "but that's not for poor
fellows like we."

"Don't lie, Tom Evans; you never were given that way yet, and I don't
think the trade will suit a good fellow like you."

The whole party stared; for the speaker of these words was none other
than Amyas himself, who had rejoined them, a bottle in each hand.

"No, Tom Evans. It has been share and share alike for three years,
and bravely you have all held up, and share alike it shall be now, and
here's the handsel of it. We'll serve out the good wine fairly all round
as long as it lasts, and then take to the bad: but mind you don't get
drunk, my sons, for we are much too short of hands to have any stout
fellows lying about the scuppers."

But what was the story of the intendant's being murdered? Brimblecombe
had seen him run into a neighboring cabin; and when the door of it
was opened, there was the culprit, but dead and cold, with a deep
knife-wound in his side. Who could have done the deed? It must have been
Tita, whom Brimblecombe had seen loose, and trying to free her lover.

The ship was searched from stem to stern: but no Tita. The mystery was
never explained. That she had leapt overboard, and tried to swim ashore,
none doubted: but whether she had reached it, who could tell? One thing
was strange; that not only had she carried off no treasure with her,
but that the gold ornaments which she had worn the night before, lay
together in a heap on the table, close by the murdered man. Had she
wished to rid herself of everything which had belonged to her tyrants?

The commandant heard the whole story thoughtfully.

"Wretched man!" said he, "and he has a wife and children in Seville."

"A wife and children?" said Amyas; "and I heard him promise marriage to
the Indian girl."

That was the only hint which gave a reason for his death. What if,
in the terror of discovery and capture, the scoundrel had dropped any
self-condemning words about his marriage, any prayer for those whom he
had left behind, and the Indian had overheard them? It might be so; at
least sin had brought its own punishment.

And so that wild night and day subsided. The prisoners were kindly used
enough; for the Englishman, free from any petty love of tormenting,
knows no mean between killing a foe outright, and treating him as a
brother; and when, two days afterwards, they were sent ashore in the
canoes off Cabo Velo, captives and captors shook hands all round; and
Amy