... he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of ... his solitary friend.
"Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" laughed the old boatswain. "What was it that he sang? 'We'll be damnably mouldy'—ay, even you and I captain—'an hundred years hence.' But should you live so long, you'll not forget 'twas I."
"You didn't betray me then, my young comrade," whispered Morgan, looking down at the severed head. "You fought until you were killed. Would that my head might lie by your side."
He had been grovelling, pleading, weeping, beseeching, but the utter uselessness of it at last came upon him and some of his courage returned. He faced them once more with head uplifted.
"At your will, I'm ready," he cried. "I defy you! You shall see how Harry Morgan can die. Scuttle me, I'll not give way again!"
"Take him away," said Alvarado; "we'll attend to him in the morning."
"Wait! Give me leave, since I am now tried and condemned, to say a word."
A cunning plan had flashed into the mind of Morgan, and he resolved to put it in execution.
"It has been a long life, mine, and a merry one. There's more blood upon my hands—Spanish blood, gentlemen—than upon those of any other human being. There was Puerto Principe. Were any of you there? The men ran like dogs before me there and left the women and children. I wiped my feet upon your accursed Spanish flag. I washed the blood from my hands with hair torn from the heads of your wives, your sweethearts, and you had not courage to defend them!"