Hawkhurst, who was aware that he must fulfil his promise, carefully examined the charts when he went down below, came up and altered the course of the schooner two points more to the northward. The next morning he was up at the mast-head nearly half an hour, when he descended, and again altered the course. By nine o’clock a low sandy island appeared on the lee bow; when within half a mile of it, he ordered the schooner to be hove to, and lowered down the small boat from the stern. He then turned the hands up. “My lads, we must keep our promise, to put Francisco on shore at the first land which we made. There it is!” And a malicious smile played on the miscreant’s features as he pointed out to them the barren sand-bank, which promised nothing but starvation and a lingering death. Several of the crew murmured; but Hawkhurst was supported by his own party, and had, moreover, taken the precaution quietly to remove all the arms, with the exception of those with which his adherents were provided.
“An agreement is an agreement; it is what he requested himself, and we promised to perform. Send for Francisco.”
“I am here, Hawkhurst; and I tell you candidly, that, desolate as is that barren spot, I prefer it to remaining in your company. I will bring my chest up immediately.”
“No—no; that was not a part of the agreement,” cried Hawkhurst.
“Every man here has a right to his own property: I appeal to the whole of the crew.”
“True—true,” replied the pirates; and Hawkhurst found himself again in the minority.
“Be it so.”
The chest of Francisco was handed into the boat.
“Is that all?” cried Hawkhurst.
“My lads, am I to have no provisions or water?” inquired Francisco.