Had he fainted or given way? They looked at him with bated breath but after a little space they saw him rise slowly to his feet and stagger inland toward a low point where a lofty palm tree was writhing and twisting in the fierce wind. He was too good a seaman not instantly to see what was required of him, for, waving his hand toward the ship he at once began to haul in the line. Ready hands had bent a larger rope to it, which was succeeded by a third, strong enough to bear a man's weight. The buccaneer hauled this last in with great difficulty, for the distance was far and the wet rope was heavy. He climbed up and made it fast to the tree and then waited. As soon as he had done so there was a rush on the ship for the line which had been made fast inboard temporarily. Morgan, however, interposed between the crew and the coveted way to safety.
"Back!" he shouted. "One at a time, and the order as I appoint! You, L'Ollonois, and you, and you," he cried, indicating certain men upon whom he could depend. "Go in succession. Then haul a heavier rope ashore. We'll put a traveler with a bo's'n's chair on it, and send these nuns and the priests first of all."
"Do we have to wait for a lot of wimmin and papists?" growled one man among the frightened rascals.
"You have to wait until the ship breaks up beneath your feet, if it is my pleasure," said Morgan, coolly, and they slunk back again, cowed. He was master of the situation once more.
There was something about that man that enforced obedience, whether they would or no. His orders were promptly obeyed and intelligently carried out by L'Ollonois and his men, who first went ashore. A heavy hawser was dragged through the surf and made fast high up on the sturdy palm tree. On it they rigged a traveler and the chair, and then the frightened nuns were brought forward from the cabin.
The women were sick with apprehension. They knew, of course, that the ship had struck, and they had been expecting instant death. Their prayers had been rudely interrupted by Morgan's messenger, and when they came out on deck in that stern tempest, amid that body of wild, ruthless men, their hearts sank within them. At the sight of those human fiends they would fain have welcomed that watery grave from which they had just been imploring God to save them. When they discovered that their only means of safety lay in making that perilous passage through the waters which overwhelmed the bight of rope in which hung the boatswain's chair, they counted themselves as dead. Indeed, they would have refused to go had it not been for the calm and heroic resolution of the abbess, their leader, Sister Maria Christina, who strove to assuage their fears.
"Hornigold," said Morgan, "are you still faithful to me in this crisis?"
"I shall obey you in all things—now," answered the boatswain.
"Swear it."
"By the old buccaneer faith," said the One-Eyed, again adding the significant adverb, "now."