"I know no God," interrupted Morgan.
"You had a mother—a wife once—perhaps children, Señor Capitan. Unsay your words! We can not place the ladders which will give you access to yonder helpless town."
"Then to the men you go!" cried Morgan ruthlessly. "Forward here, two or three of you, take this woman! She chooses——"
"Death——" cried the abbess, snatching a dagger from the nearest hand and driving it into her breast, "rather than dishonor!"
She held herself proudly erect for a moment, swayed back and forth, and then fell prostrate upon the sand, the blood staining her white robe about the hilt of the poniard. She writhed and shuddered in agony where she lay, striving to say something. Fra Antonio sprang to her side, and before any one could interfere knelt down.
"I—I—I have sinned," she gasped. "Mercy, mercy!"
"Thou hast done well, I absolve thee!" cried the priest, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead.
"Death and fury!" shouted Morgan, livid with rage. "Let her die unshriven! Shall I be balked thus?"
He sprang toward the old man stooping over the woman, and struck him across his shaven crown with the blade of his sword. The priest pitched down instantly upon the body of the abbess, a long shudder running through him. Then he lay still.
"Harry Morgan's way!" cried the buccaneer, recovering his blade. "And you?" turning toward the other women. "Have you had lesson enough? Pick up those ladders, or by hell——"