up us on these yere
sands? The boats lie yonder! Well?"

"Where be you heading of now, Smiler? Where's the wind? Talk plain!"

"Why look'ee all, if Penfeather wants men, as wants 'em he doth, what's
to stay or let us from rowing out to Penfeather soft and quiet and
'listing ourselves along of Penfeather, and watch our chance t' heave
Penfeather overboard and go a-roving on our own account? Well?"

At this was sudden silence and thereafter a fierce mutter of whispering
lost all at once in the clatter of arms and breathless scuffling as
they scrambled to their feet; for there, within a yard of them, stood
Tressady, hand grasping the dagger in his belt, his glittering hook
tapping softly at his great chin as he stared from one to other of them.

"Ha, my pretty lambs!" says he, coming a pace nearer. "Will ye skulk
then, will ye skulk with your fools' heads together? What now, mutiny
is it, mutiny? And what's come o' my prisoner Martin, I don't spy him
hereabouts?"

Now at this they shuffled, staring about and upon each other and (as I
think) missed me for the first time.

"You, Tom Purdy, step forward--so! Now where's the prisoner as I set
i' your charge, where, my merry bird, where?"

The fellow shrank away, muttering some sullen rejoinder that ended in a
choking scream as Tressady sprang. Then I (knowing what was toward)
clasped my lady to me, covering her ears that she might not hear those
ghastly bubbling groans, yet felt her sweet body shaking with the
horror that shook me.

"So--there's an end--o' Tom Purdy, my bullies!" gasped Tressady,
stooping to clean his hook in the sand. "And I did it--look'ee,
because he failed me once, d'ye see! Who'll be next? Who's for
mutiny--you, Sammy, you--ha?"

"No--no, Cap'n!" piped Smiling Sam, "Us do be but contriving o' ways
and means seeing' as Penfeather do ha' took our ship, curse him!"

"And what though he has? 'Tis we have the island and 'tis on this
island lieth Black Bartlemy's Treasure, and 'tis the treasure we're
after! As to ways and means, here we be thirty and eight to
Penfeather's fourteen, and in a little 'twill be dark and the guns
shan't serve 'em and then--aha, look yonder! The fools be coming into
our very clutches! To cover, lads, and look to your primings and wait
my word."

Now glancing whither he pointed, I saw, above the adjacent headland,
the tapering spars of a ship. Slowly she hove into view, boltsprit,
forecastle, waist and p