At last, when night had fairly set in, he went forth himself, accompanied by Bob Bertram and Garnet, and by superior intelligence and tact he soon discovered where Death-wing and his gang were hiding, and laid his plans accordingly.
Death-wing indeed was not without information of what was intended by Ned Warbeck, for he also had scouts out, who speedily informed him of the intended attack; but none of them knew when it was to take place, or the number and class of persons who were to take part in it.
Since his defeat and disgrace at the Block-house the leader of the Skeleton Crew had been recruiting his forces.
He sent messengers to different parts calling in scattered parties of the crew who were out on their usual depredations.
So that on the night in question Death-wing had a large number of followers around him, each and all of whom swore to perish rather than allow Ned Warbeck, that hated name, to triumph over them.
One of the skeleton spies had fast returned to Death-wing with the latest information he was able to procure when all the Skeleton Crew sat down to a splendid repast, and drank wine more extravagantly than ever.
“If this is to be our last night let it be a merry one,” said Death-wing.
“Bravo!” shouted fifty voices.
“I understand that Captain Jack, old Bates, and all his lot were gibbeted to day,” said one.
“No doubt of it; I heard the bells tolling.”