"Howbeit Adam sank and took us, and swears to hang you soon or late—unless you chance to die soon!"
"Blind him for a dog—a dog and murderous rogue as shall bite on this hook o' mine yet! A small, thieving rogue is Penfeather—"
"And the likest man to make an end o' the Brotherhood that ever sailed!" nodded Joanna.
"Where lays his course?"
"Who knows!"
"And what o' Belvedere?"
"Dead and damned for rogue and coward!"
"Why, then, drink, my bullies," cried Tressady, with a great oath. "Drink battle, murder, shipwreck and hell-fire to Adam Penfeather, with a curse! Here's us safe and snug in a good stout ship yonder, here's us all love and good-fellowship, merry as grigs, happy as piping birds, here's luck and long life to each and all on us."
"Long life!" said Joanna, frowning. "'Tis folly—I weary of it already!"
So we ate and drank and sprawled about the fire until the moon rose, and looking up at her as she sailed serene, I shivered, for to-night it seemed that in her pallid beam was something ominous and foreboding, and casting my eyes round about on motionless tree and shadowy thicket I felt my flesh stir again.