ambo.

"Did you bring the chain and padlock, Sambo?"

"Yis, mass'r. But you no tink it am berer to take boat away--pull him
out ob sight?"

"No, Sambo, I have thought on that subject already, and have come to the
conclusion that it is better to let the boat remain. You see they have
placed it in such a way that as long as daylight lasted it could be seen
from the settlement, and even now it is visible at some distance, as you
see. If we were to remove it they would at once observe that it was
gone, and thus be put on their guard. No, no, Sambo. I may not be fond
of ambushments, but I flatter myself that I have some talent for such
matters."

The master and servant had reached the beach by this time, where they
found the boat in the exact position that had been indicated by John
Bumpus. It lay behind a low piece of coral rock, fastened to an iron
ring by means of a rope, while the oars lay in readiness on the thwarts.

Sambo now produced a heavy iron chain with which the boat was speedily
fastened to the ring. It was secured with a large padlock, the key of
which Ole placed in his pocket.

This being satisfactorily accomplished, they returned to the place of
ambush.

"Now, Mister Gascoyne," observed Thorwald with a grim smile, as he sat
down beside his men and pulled out his watch, "I will await your
pleasure. It is just half-past eleven; if you are a punctual man, as Jo
Bumpus led me to believe, I will try your metal in half-an-hour, and
have you back in your cage before one o'clock! What say you to that,
Sambo?"

The faithful native opened his huge mouth wide and shut his eyes,
thereby indicating that he laughed, but he said nothing, bad, good, or
indifferent, to his master's facetious observation. The other natives
also grinned in a quiet but particularly knowing manner, after which the
whole party relapsed into profound silence and kept their midnight watch
with exemplary patience and eager expectation.

At this same hour the pirate captain was seated in his cell on the edge
of the low bedstead, with his elbows resting on his knees and his face
buried in his hands.

The cell was profoundly dark--so dark that the figure of the prisoner
could scarcely be distinguished.

Gascoyne did not move for many minutes, but once or twice a deep sigh
escaped him, shewing that although his body was at rest, his thoughts
were busy. At last he moved and clasped his hands together violently as
if under a stro