“No,” replied Hawkhurst.
“Yes—yes,” cried most of the pirates.
Hawkhurst did not dare put it to the vote; he turned sulkily away. The Kroumen brought up two breakers of water, and some pieces of pork.
“Here, massa,” said Pompey, putting into Francisco’s hand a fishing-line with hooks.
“Thank you, Pompey; but I had forgot—that book in the cabin—you know which I mean.”
Pompey nodded his head, and went below; but it was some time before he returned, during which Hawkhurst became impatient. It was a very small boat which had been lowered down; it had a lug-sail and two pair of sculls in it, and was quite full when Francisco’s chest and the other articles had been put in.
“Come! I have no time to wait,” said Hawkhurst; “in the boat!”
Francisco shook hands with many of the crew, and wished all of them farewell. Indeed, now that they beheld the poor lad about to be cast on the desolate island, even those most opposed to him felt some emotions of pity. Although they acknowledged that his absence was necessary, yet they knew his determined courage; and with them that quality was always a strong appeal.
“Who will row this lad ashore, and bring the boat off?”
“Not I,” replied one; “it would haunt me ever afterwards.”