ruffian concludes with a peal of scornful laughter, continued as he
ascends the cabin-stair, after striding out and banging the door behind
him!

On deck, he sees himself alone; and hurrying to the ship's waist,
scrambles over the side, down into the boat; where he finds everything
stowed, the oarsmen seated on the thwarts, their oars in the rowlocks,
ready to shove off.

They are not all there yet. Two--the first mate and Davis are still
aboard the barque--down in her hold.

There are those who would gladly cast loose, and leave the laggards
behind. Indeed, soon as stepping into the boat, Padilla proposes it,
the other Spaniards abetting him.

But their traitorous desire is opposed by Striker. However otherwise
debased, the ex-convict is true to the men who speak his own tongue.

He protests in strong determined language, and is backed by the
Dutchman, Dane, and La Crosse, as also Tarry and Slush.

"Bah!" exclaims Padilla, seeing himself in the minority; "I was only
jesting. Of course, I had no intention to abandon them. Ha, ha, ha!"
he adds with a forced laugh, "we'd be the blackest of traitors to behave
that way."

Striker pays no heed to the hypocritical speech, but calls to his old
chum and Harry Blew--alternately pronouncing their names.

He gets response, and soon after sees Davis above, clambering over the
rail.

Blew is not far behind, but still does not appear. He is by the foot of
the mainmast with a haulyard in his hands as though hoisting something
aloft. The moon has become clouded, and it is too dark for any one to
see what it is. Besides, there is no one observing him--no one could,
the bulwarks being between.

"Hillo, there, Blew!" again hails Striker; "what be a-keepin' ye? Hurry
down! These Spanish chaps are threetnin' to go off without ye."

"Hang it!" exclaims the chief mate, now showing the side; "I hope that
an't true!"

"Certainly not!" exclaims Padilla; "nothing of the kind. We were only
afraid you might delay too long, and be in danger of going down with the
vessel."

"Not much fear of that," returns Blew, dropping into the boat, "It'll be
some time afore she sinks. Ye fixed the rudder for her to run out,
didn't ye?"

"Ay, ay!" responds he who was the last at the wheel.

"All right; shove off, then! That wind'll take the old _Condor_
straight seawart; and long afore sunrise she'll be out sight o' land.
Give way there--way!"

The oars dip and plash. The boat