Chapter Thirty Three.
On the Qui Vive.
The buccaneer had sought the ruined temple that evening in lowness of spirit and utter despondency. The old daring spirit seemed to be departing, and supremacy over the men passing rapidly away, and he knew how they talked among themselves, consequent upon Mazzard’s teaching, of the growing weakness of their commander.
“And they’re right,” he said, bitterly. “I am losing power and strength, and growing more and more into the pitiful, weak creature they say. And yet how I have tried!”
He sprang to his feet, for at that moment there was the reflection of a flash which lit up the interior of the old temple, showing the weird figures sitting round as if watching him in his despondent mood.
It was but momentary, and then came a crash as if heaven and earth had come together, followed by a long, muttering roar as the thunder of the explosion died away.
The minute before the buccaneer had been inert, despondent and hopeless. The knowledge of what must have taken place brought back his flagging energies, and with a great dread seeming to compress his heart that evil might have befallen his prisoner, he tore out of the dark temple, and as fast as the gloom of the winding path would allow him toward the old amphitheatre.
Haste and the excitement made his breathing laboured as he strove to get on more rapidly, but only to be kept back by the maze-like paths, where he passed Humphrey and Dinny, and, gaining the open ground, dashed on to where his men were gathered.
“Bart! quick!” he cried, as soon as he was convinced that no harm could have befallen his prisoner. “Take men, and down the path to the shore. There will be an attempt to escape in the confusion, and they’ll make for the sea.”