in one language, some in another. Alphonse took no
notice of what was said--probably he understood but little. Paul felt
that he should like to jump up and attack them, but he wisely kept his
seat. Alphonse at length succeeded in getting out his bow and violin,
and without saying a word, struck up a French tune.

"Hillo, you are a merry young chap," exclaimed one of the English
pirates. "Scrape away, we don't hear much like that."

Alphonse played on without stopping.

"Ah, c'est de ma patrie--c'est de ma belle France," cried a Frenchman
from the bow of the boat, and Alphonse felt a hope that there was one
near who would befriend him. On landing, the prisoners, including poor
old Charcoal, were marched up to the hut, into one end of which they
were thrust, and told that their brains would be blown out if they moved
or spoke. This made but little difference. They could expect but one
fate, and by no plan they could devise were they likely to escape it.

When the morning came, some biscuit was given them, and the black was
ordered to go and bring them water. This gave them hopes that they were
not, at all events, to be murdered forthwith. The pirates all the
morning were either asleep or very sulky, but at noon, having spread a
supply of provisions in the shade and broached a cask of wine, they
became merry, and one of them, the ugly hirsute fellow before described,
proposed as an amusement, that they should try the prisoners and punish
them afterwards according to their deserts. The proposal was received
with great applause, and Devereux and his companions were ordered to
appear before their captors. The pirate captain was the judge, and two
of the officers undertook to be counsel for the defendants. The case,
however, was made out very clearly against them, and except extenuating
circumstances, they had nothing to plead in their favour. Poor Charcoal
had still less chance of escape.

"He is guilty of ingratitude, of robbery, of rebellion and high treason,
for either of which he deserves hanging, and hanged he shall be
forthwith," cried the judge, draining off a jug of wine. "We couldn't
before have done without him, but now one of you can take his place.
You are a stout fellow," he added, addressing Reuben Cole. "Are you
inclined to save your life and to work honestly for your bread?"

"To work for you, so as to let you hang that poor dumb fellow, Charcoal?
No, that I'm not, yer scoundrels," he excl