the merciless flogging inflicted by that demon yonder,
whom your shot have slain and so perchance saved from a better merited
death."

"And why did he flog this man so mercilessly?" demanded George in a tone
of terrible calmness.

"Because," answered the man, "it was Hubert, here, who, when he heard
the music from your ship, shouted to us that you were English, and that,
if we would stop rowing, you would take the galley and set us all free."

George raised his head above the combing and shouted to the armourer:
"Miles, come down here at once with your hammer and chisel. There is a
man here--several men--whom I wish to release from their fetters."

"Senor," interposed the man who was supporting Hubert's senseless form,
and who seemed to guess what George required, "if you will feel in the
pocket of that dead boatswain's doublet, you will find the key to unlock
our chains."

"Thanks," responded George as he bent over the dead boatswain; and a
minute later he had unlocked the chain which confined his brother's body
to the bench, and was calling to another man to help him to carry it up
on deck.

"Senor--senor, are you not going to release us also?" demanded Hubert's
comrade, as George turned away to arrange for the dispatch of his
brother to the galleon.

"In good time, _amigo_, in good time," answered George. "A little
patience is all you now need. I will return to you later."

With infinite care Hubert's body was lowered into a boat and dispatched
to the galleon, with an imperative order from George to the surgeon to
treat his patient gently and do his utmost for him. Then the young
captain proceeded to release the remaining Englishmen and send them also
aboard the galleon to be cared for.

And next came the question of what was to be done with the galley-slaves
and the galley. It was a knotty question to decide, for here were a
hundred-and-eighty men, many of whom were no doubt criminals and
desperados of the very worst type; to release whom and turn them loose
upon society involved a tremendous responsibility. Yet after even the
cursory glimpse that George had caught of the life of a galley-slave, he
could not bring himself to hand over those men to the tender mercies of
the Spaniards and so in all probability insure for them a continuance of
life in what Cary had graphically described as a floating hell, which
was a punishment infinitely worse than death, and far too severe for
even the most atrociou