ngth,
with sinking hearts, they saw the first pale streaks of dawn appear.
There is but little twilight in those southern latitudes; but the first
harbinger of day is speedily followed by the glorious luminary himself,
and the whole world is bathed with light.

"I wonder if it's pleasant," soliloquised O'Grady. "I don't know
whether I should prefer being hung or having my throat cut."

"Hush," said Devereux, "see the black is signing to you not to speak."

"Nor will I, blessings on his honest face," answered O'Grady, whose
spirits nothing could daunt. "But I propose that before we put our
necks into the noose we have our breakfast. We shall have ample time
for that before those honest gentlemen we left drunk last night will be
up and looking for us."

The proposition met with universal approval, and in another instant all
hands were busily employed in discussing a substantial breakfast of
biscuit, dried meat, and fish, washed down by claret in as quiet a
manner as if they were out on a pleasant picnic party. When it was
over, some of the party scrambled up the rocks to ascertain if any of
the pirates were yet on foot; but no one was to be seen moving on shore.
It was possible that the pirates might suppose that they had already
made their escape, and thus not take the trouble of looking for them.
It was clearly their best chance to remain quiet, and so they all
returned on board and lay down in the bottom of the boat. The day, as
the night had done, passed slowly on. Their hopes again rose; they
might remain concealed till night, and then make their escape, should
the gale abate.

"We have reason to be thankful that we are not outside now," observed
old Croxton, who had said little all the time; "no boat could live in
the sea there is running."

"If we are discovered we may still fight for it," observed Reuben Cole.
"We are a match for a few score of such buccaneering scoundrels as they
are, I hope."

"I will play them one tune on my cher violin; they will not hang us if
they hear that going," said Alphonse, evidently perfectly in earnest.

"We'll fight, undoubtedly, my friends," said Devereux. "If we are
taken, we will make the best of it, and may even then save our lives
without dishonour."

It was past noon. They judged from the continued roar that the force of
the gale had in no way decreased, and that nothing could be gained by
leaving their rocky shelter. Not a sound from the hut had reached th