“What dost thou see, good bishop?” said Cain pointing to the discoloured water, and the rapid motion of the fins of the sharks, eager in the anticipation of a further supply.
“I see ravenous creatures after their kind,” replied the bishop, “who will, in all probability, soon tear asunder those poor limbs; but I see no monster like thyself. Teresa, dearest, fear not; there is a God, an avenging God; as well as a rewarding one.”
But Teresa’s eyes were closed—she could not look upon the scene.
“You have your choice; first torture, and then your body to those sharks for your own portion: and as for the girl, this moment I hand her over to my crew.”
“Never!” shrieked Teresa, springing from the deck and plunging into the wave.
There was a splash of contention, the lashing of tails, until the water was in a foam, and then the dark colour gradually cleared away, and nought was to be seen, but the pure blue wave and the still unsatisfied monsters of the deep.
“The screws—the screws! quick! we’ll have the secret from him,” cried the pirate-captain, turning to his crew, who, villains as they were, had been shocked at this last catastrophe. “Seize him!”
“Touch him not!” cried Francisco, standing on the hammock-netting; “touch him not! if you are men.”
Boiling with rage, Cain let go the arm of the bishop, drew his pistol, and levelled it at Francisco. The bishop threw up the arm of Cain as he fired; saw that he had missed his aim, and clasping his hands, raised his eyes to heaven in thankfulness at Francisco’s escape. In this position he was collared by Hawkhurst, whose anger overcame his discretion, and who hurled him through the entering-port into the sea.
“Officious fool!” muttered Cain, when he perceived what the mate had done. Then, recollecting himself, he cried,—“Seize that boy and bring him here.”