He was near enough now to see the features of the men gathered about it. They were a villainous-looking crew if there ever was one, the scum of a West Indian port, half-breeds most of them, sullen-looking rascals who looked as though they would stop at no villainy.
There were a score of them, counting the rascal he had been trailing who now stepped within the circle of firelight. Phil gave a start that was almost audible as he saw the man’s face. It was Ramirez—Ramirez of the evil face and ready knife.
Quite suddenly the whole thing became clear to him. Ramirez, knowing of the secret contained in the pirate’s notes in the possession of Jack Benton, had either gotten wind of their mission in San Domingo, or had guessed at it. On the strength of his story it would be easy to get together a gang of cutthroats, a band of villainous adventurers and follow them to the island with the purpose of eventually getting possession of the treasure.
Something told Phil that these men would stop at nothing and his anger grew to a kind of fury. He had the mad impulse to charge the whole dastardly crew of them, to fling himself upon them single-handed.
If he had had only himself to consider, he might have done it too. But he thought of his comrades and the treasure and knew that he must move cautiously.
Ramirez, evidently the leader of the rascally crew was speaking, and Phil crept closer, careful to keep well without the circle of firelight. He strained his ears to hear the muttered words of the half-breed. He must learn their plans. Even from this distance he could see that Ramirez was excited, his deep-set eyes were glowing feverishly.
“All is well,” Phil heard him say to his sullen-eyed audience. “They have found the treasure. I have seen it with these own eyes, hidden in the cave where they leave it unguarded—the fools!”
At his words, the eyes of the motley crew glowed with the gleam of avarice and they waxed tremendously excited. They gestured wildly with their arms, each one gabbling in a different tongue.
Ramirez’s brow grew dark. He made an ominous movement with his hand toward the gun on his hip. The men regarded him with a sort of half-cowed fury. Most of them fell to conversing again in low, excited mutterings.
Only one among them seemed to have the courage—or the avarice—to defy his chief. This seemed, like most of them, to be a mixture of two nationalities, half-English, half-Spanish. He talked in broken English.