"Ship your oars," he cried, as they came alongside, rising to his feet.
Not a man moved.
"Spring to the bows and fend off!" he shouted.
There was no reply; the men sat upright, and swayed their bodies to and fro, and still pulled at their sweeps!
The boat, at the same instant, came against the brig's counter with a shock, and the three men were thrown from their seats backward to the bottom of the boat. They were dead! He had been pulling an oar the last few seconds with corpses. He shuddered and sprung up the side.
Instantly the brig got under weigh, and, sailing up East River to Hell Gate, passed through the dangerous pass, and came to, not far from the Witch's Isle. A boat was lowered, and Kyd descended into it and landed there. As he entered the hut the witch was seated on the ground over a fire, rocking her body to and fro, and chanting a wild song.
"Welcome, Robert Kyd," she said, without turning round. "Umph! I smell blood!" she cried the instant after. "Thou hast been at thy old trade. Hast thou had revenge?"
"I have. His vessel is mine. Him I have slain."
"Did I not promise thee this?" she said, rising and speaking with triumph. "Now thou art come to do my will and to fulfil thy oath."
"I have seen her within the hour," he said, with settled hate.