"Miserable man! Your answer is sufficient for me. We do not want such cowardly traitors among our crew. You shall stay here and die by the side of your braver comrades."
Baptiste and the two Spaniards then hurried off to the boat, for the sun was just setting. They pulled off to the barque, and the mate reported to the captain what he had done.
About an hour after their return—the night having settled down upon the ocean—Carew was sitting by himself on the quarter-deck. The hollow roar of the waves upon the beach sounded louder than in the daytime, and the vessel rolled in the swell caused by the recoil of the distant rollers.
All manner of strange and frightful noises came from the direction of the mysterious island. It seemed to Carew that he heard groans and wails echoing among the ravines, but he put this down to his imagination—to the now greatly unstrung condition of his nerves.
Suddenly he started to his feet, his heart beating violently. What was that he heard? Surely that last dreadful cry did not exist only in his fancy.
"Baptiste, come here!" he called out.
The mate sauntered up.
"Listen!" whispered Carew; "do you hear nothing?"
"Nothing but the noise of the breakers."