"What!"
"In chains on a gibbet."
A hoarse, guttural sound escaped from Jack's throat as he clung tightly to Bart's arm.
"The gibbet's on the low point by the mangrove swamp," said the man.
"They've cut down two palms about a dozen feet and nailed another across, and the captain's swinging there."
"A lie!" yelled Jack; "not my brother!"
There was a dead pause of utter silence for a few moments, and then the man said slowly:
"Yes, we all saw it and made sure;" and a murmur of acquiescence arose from his three companions, who had been in the boat in search of far different information to that which they had brought.
"But not my brother?" groaned Jack.
"Yes," said the man. "It was Commodore Junk."
As a dead silence once more fell upon the poop, the dark, heavy-looking man stood swaying to and fro for a few minutes, gazing down at Jack, who had dropped into a sitting position upon a water-keg, his arms resting upon his knees, his hands hanging, and his head drooped; while Bart stood by his shoulder with his face wrinkled and a pained expression upon his brow, just illumined by the bright glint of the stars.
The heavy man nodded and seemed about to speak, but remained silent for a time. Then patting Jack on the shoulder:
"Brave lad! Good captain! For time of war!" he said. "But never mind, my lads. We'll pay them for it, yet."
He lurched slightly and walked slowly toward the captain's cabin, unnoticed by Jack and Bart; but Dinny's eyes were sharp enough to read what all this meant, and he turned to his comrade Dick.
"Look at that, now!" he whispered.
"Ay, I was looking. What does it mean?"
"Mane!" said Dinny, scornfully. "It manes that Black Mazzard thinks he's captain now."
"Then if the throat-cutting scoundrel is, I'm off first chance."
"An' I'm wid ye," said Dinny, earnestly. "I'll go and lade a virtuous life."
"And leave the skipper's brother and Bart?"
Dinny pulled off his cap and rubbed his head viciously.
"Now, why did ye want to go and say that?" he cried. "Iverything was as aisy as could be, and you go and upset it all."
"Poor Abel!" said Jack at last, softly.
"Ay, poor old Abel!" said Bart, with a groan.
"You here?" said Jack, starting up and catching the rough fellow by the arm.
"Here?--ay!" growled Bart, slowly. "Where did you think I was, lad?"
"I didn't think, Bart, or I shouldn't have said that," cried Jack, earnestly. "Where would you be but at my elbow if I was in trouble, ready to be of help?"
"Ay, but there's no helping you here, lad," said Bart with a groan.
"No helping me! But you can, Bart. Do you wonder that I hate the world?--that I see it all as one crowd of enemies fighting against me and trying to crush me down? Not help me! Oh, but you shall! My poor brother! They shall pay heavily for this!"
"What'll you do, lad?" said Bart, despondently.
"Do!" cried Jack, with a savage laugh--"do what poor Abel always hung back from doing, and stopped Black Mazzard from many a time. I don't read my Bible now, Bart; but doesn't it say that there shall be blood for blood; and my poor brother's cries aloud for vengeance, as they shall see!"
"No, no, my lad," whispered Bart, hoarsely; "let it stop here. It seems to me as if something said: 'This here's the end on it. Now get her to go back home.'"
"Home!" said Jack, with a fierce laugh. "Where is home?"
"Yonder," said Bart, stolidly.
"No! Here--at sea. Bart, there is no other home for me; no other hope but to have revenge!"
"Revenge, lad?"
"Ay, a bitter, cruel revenge. I could have been different. I was once full of love and hope before I knew what the world was like, but that's all past and dead--yes, dead; and the dead yonder is looking toward me and asking me to remember what we have suffered."
"But think."
"Think, Bart? I have thought till my brain has seemed to burn; and everything points to revenge, and revenge I'll have!"
"It's the end of it all now," said Bart, solemnly. "Let's go back."
"The way is open, Bart Wrigley. I have no hold upon you, and I can work alone. Go!"
"You wouldn't talk like that," said Bart, huskily, "if you was cool."
"What do you mean, man?"
"'Bout me going," said Bart, in a low, husky voice. "There's only one way for me, and that's where you go, lad. It allus has been, and it allus will be till I'm took. What are you going to do?"
The question was asked in a quick, decisive way, very different to the despondent air that had pervaded his words before, and the manner was so marked that Jack laid his hands on his companion's shoulders.
"It's my fate to be always saying bitter things to you, Bart, and wounding you."
"Never mind about that," said Bart, huskily. "Long as I'm the one as you trusts, that's enough for me. What are you going to do next?"
There was no answer for a few minutes, and then the words whispered were very short and decisive.
"And let 'em think it's scared us, and we've gone right away?" said Bart.
"Yes."
Bart gave a short, quick nod of the head, walked sharply to the forecastle and yelled to the men to tumble up. The result was that in a very short time sail after sail was spread till a dusky cloud seemed to hover over the deck of the schooner, which heeled over in the light breeze and began skimming as lightly as a yacht eastward, as if to leave the scene of the Commodore's execution far behind.