The men were now secured to the dead trees, and the three villains were moving off to their boat when one of the Frenchmen—the only one who did not meet his fate with fortitude, and who showed signs of the most abject terror—screamed out—
"Oh, Monsieur Baptiste, let me go—let me go! I will join you. I will not betray you. I will help you work the ship. I will be your slave if you spare me!"
His comrades reviled him for his cowardice, but he still continued his piteous entreaties.
Baptiste turned round and gazed with a sardonic smile into the man's white, fear-distorted face. He felt that this was very much the way he would behave himself in similar circumstances, but he did not spare his own faults in others; few men do.
"So you would join us, would you? But how do I know if I can trust you, my friend? You may betray us when we get into port. Will you give me a proof of your fidelity?"
"I will give you any proof you wish," cried the wretched man, writhing in his bonds, but quite unable to move.
"Now, if I see you commit a far greater crime than any that I and my crew have committed, I shall know that you dare not tell tales. If I release you and give you a knife, will you kill all your comrades for me?"
The man burst into hysterical tears. "Yes!" he shrieked—"yes! Anything for my life."
Baptiste laughed contemptuously.