"Aye, have 'em out," yelled the crew. "Make 'em dance!"
Silver's hard, polished-agate eyes glinted around the circle of savage faces and came to rest upon Bones' sodden visage.
"Run aft, Darby, there's the sweet lad," he said, "and bring us the pris'ners."
"Not—not—her!" answered Darby haltingly.
"Yes, her," replied Silver with a slight emphasis.
And one of his hands reached out, and his strong fingers tweaked the Irish boy's ear. Darby yelped.
"O' course, you bring her," Silver continued. "Why's she too good to tell us what she knows, mates? Just because she had Andrew Murray's favor, I wonder!"
"Not——"
Darby started to protest again, but Silver cut him off with a word that dripped chill ferocity.
"Skip!"