ents. Charlie Webster might be expected any moment with his
reinforcements, and then!--"Lay on, Macduff!"

While we had been talking, Samson had long since been on his way with
the word to Sweeney to look out for Webster, and, as he had been
admonished to hurry back, it was scarcely noon when he returned,
bringing in exchange a verbal message from Sweeney.

"The pock-marked party," ran the message as delivered by Samson, "had
left the harbour in his sloop that morning. Yes, sar!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed the "King," turning to me. "So two can play at that
game, says Henry P. Tobias, Jr. But if we haven't fooled him, let's make
sure that he hasn't fooled us. We'll bring up your crew all the
same--what do you think?"

"Under cover of the dark," I assented.

CHAPTER XII

_In Which the "King" Imprisons Me with Some Old Books and Pictures._

Nothing further transpired that day, and, at nightfall, we brought the
crew of the _Flamingo_ up to the house--all but two of them, whom we
left on guard. Two out of six was rather more than we had bargained for,
but we found that none of them had the courage to face the night there
in that dismal swamp alone--and we couldn't blame them, for a more
devil-haunted desolation could not be imagined even in the daylight, and
the mere thought of what might go on there after dark was enough to
uncurl the wool on the head of the bravest negro. And we agreed, too,
that the watch should be changed nightly, a fresh pair going on duty
each evening.

Then there was nothing to do but sit down and await events--amongst
them, the coming of Charlie Webster.

In regard to this, we had decided that it would be as well that, instead
of disembarking at the settlement, he should come and join the
_Flamingo_ in the hidden creek; so Samson was once more despatched down
to Sweeney with a letter for him to hand to Charlie on his arrival,
giving him direction how to find us. Meanwhile, our two men on the
_Flamingo_ could keep watch for him by day, and have a light burning for
him at the entrance of the creek by night.

The "King's" instructions to me were that I was not to show my nose
outside the house. Possibly I might expose the tip of it once in a
while, for a little exercise in the garden--where all this time the
little silver fountain went on playing amid the golden hush of the
orange trees, filling the lotus flowers with big pearls of spray. But,
most of the day, I must regard myself as a pris