He held out the bag of gold coin and the despatch, and he smiled meaningly as Hilary took them, one in each hand, and stood gazing full in the officer’s face.
There was a dead silence in the room, and the dancing flames lit up strangely the figures of the tall well-knit man and the slight boyish figure, while, half in shadow, the sailors stood with all the intentness of disciplined men, watching what was going on.
“Look here, sir,” said Hilary, speaking firmly, “if I did this thing, even if you came into power—which you never will—you would not find me a captain’s commission, but would treat me as such a traitor deserved. There are your dirty guineas,” he cried, dashing the bag upon the table, so that the coins flew jingling all over the room; “and there is your traitorous despatch,” he continued, tearing it in half, and flinging it in the officer’s face. “I am an officer of his majesty. God save the king!” he shouted. “Now, shoot me if you dare.”
He gave one sharp glance round for a way of escape, but there was none. A dozen men stood there like statues, evidently too well disciplined to move till the appointed time. Doors and windows were well guarded, and with such odds Hilary knew that it would be but a wretched struggle without avail. Better, he thought, maintain his dignity. And he did, as he saw the officer pick up the pistol from the table and point it at his head.
A momentary sensation of horror appalled Hilary, and he felt the blood rush to his heart, but he did not flinch.
“I am a king’s officer,” he thought, “and I have done my duty in the king’s name. Heaven give me strength, lad as I am, to die like a man!”
He looked then straight at the pistol barrel without flinching for a few moments. Then his eyes closed, and he who held the weapon saw the young man’s lips move softly, as if in prayer, and he dashed the pistol down.
“There, my lads!” he cried aloud to the men, “if ever you see a Frenchman stand fire like that you may tell me if you will. Hilary Leigh,” he cried, laying his hands smartly on the young man’s shoulders, “you make me proud to be an Englishman, and in a service that can show such stuff as you. Here, give me your hand.”
“No,” cried Hilary hoarsely. “Stand off, sir; cajolery will not do your work any more than threats.”
“Hang the work, my lad,” cried the other. “It was rather dirty work, but we want to know our men in times like these. Give me your hand, my boy, I am no traitor, I am Captain Charteris, of the Ruby, and I have had to try your faith and loyalty to the king. Here, my men, you did your work well. Pick up those guineas; there should be a hundred of them. You may keep back five guineas to drink his majesty’s health. Bo’sun, you can bring the rest on to me.”