“Now then, Shenkoff and Matteo” (this was the leader), “on deck, and be quick about it.”
They came slowly, fearfully up, and were immediately seized and bound.
A brief court-martial was held, and they were condemned to die.
The faces of these two villains, as they stood on the fo’c’s’le head, were pale and haggard.
Right well they knew their hour had come. There was no relenting in Antonio’s face, no mercy there, but justice—stern, determined.
“Busy yourselves now, lads,” the captain said to the two blacks.
They did; the fore-yard was squared, a block and tackle—a long rope with a noose on the end—was rigged at each point.
Then down came the blacks, and slipped the nooses over the necks of the condemned men.
“I will give you five minutes,” said Antonio, “to pray.”
Whether those murder-stained villains prayed or not may never be known. We do know, however, that the thief on the cross was forgiven, and that—