But a relapse came following his temporary accession of better spirits. How was he, a lad, alone among so many ferocious enemies, to accomplish anything? No, it was impossible. He had been a fool ever to think that there was a chance for him to escape. He would be slaughtered—perhaps tortured—he had heard of such things—by Morello and his men, and then cast into an unmarked grave in some desolate tropic isle. The thought was too much to bear.
"I won't die like that! I won't! I won't!" screamed Nat, in a perfect frenzy.
But he checked his outburst suddenly. A chill of horror crept over him. Was he beginning to lose his senses in the darkness?
For Nat could have sworn that through the gloom there had come a strange sound. The sound of a cautioning human voice. He strained his ears. Perhaps there would be a repetition of the sound. Yes, there it was again.
"Hi-i-i-s-t!"
"Who are you?" shouted Nat. "Are you a man, or am I delirious?"
"Donnervetter, I'm a man, all right," came the response, in a strong foreign accent; "undt up till lastdt night I voss captain. Budt who in der name of der great horn spoons voss you?"
"An unfortunate boy whom these rascals have made a prisoner and whom they are planning to kill," rejoined Nat, in an agitated voice.
"Voss," grunted the other; "dey is making prisoners of boys on my ship alretty! By Yupiter, I see vot I do aboudt dis if ever I get oudt uv dis scrape."
"Then you are in trouble, too?"