“Only seven, that I can reckon; but we have lost Wallace,” (the second mate).
“A little promotion will do no harm,” replied Cain; “take a dozen of our best men and search the ship, there are others alive yet. By-the-by, send a watch on board of the schooner; she is left to the mercy of the Kroumen, and—”
“One who is better out of her,” replied Hawkhurst.
“And those we find below—” continued the mate.
“Alive!”
“True; we may else be puzzled where to find that portion of her cargo which suits us,” said Hawkhurst, going down the hatchway to collect the men who were plundering on the main deck and in the captain’s cabin.
“Here, you Maltese! up, there! and look well round if there is anything in sight,” said the captain, walking aft.
Before Hawkhurst had collected the men and ordered them on board of the schooner, as usual in those latitudes, it had fallen a perfect calm.
Where was Francisco during this scene of blood? He had remained in the cabin of the schooner. Cain had more than once gone down to him, to persuade him to come on deck and assist at the boarding of the Portuguese, but in vain—his sole reply to the threats and solicitations of the pirate was—
“Do with me as you please—I have made up my mind—you know I do not fear death—as long as I remain on board of this vessel, I will take no part in your atrocities. If you do respect my mother’s memory, suffer her son to seek an honest and honourable livelihood.”