"Yes—I think so; but, to make sure, I will slip down and see them sail away. Keep a sharp lookout until I return. In the meantime, let all the horses be saddled and brought around—the women can escape, then, if necessary."
"Let me go with you," said Parkington.
They had gone but a short distance, when there came, from the direction of the river, a faint yell, followed by another and another, and yet another.
"Now, what is the matter?" said Parkington pausing. "Are they coming back?"
"God knows!" exclaimed Marbury, pausing also.
"And as He will not tell," remarked Parkington, after a wait, during which no further sounds came, "we shall have to find out for ourselves."
Under cover of the trees and bushes, which lined the driveway, they gained, at length, sight of the landing. Then, the reason for the cries was evident:—the pirates had lost their ship.
It was anchored farther down stream than they had left it, and beside it lay another vessel, which Marbury recognized as one of his own ships, The Whip, overdue from London. Not a man was visible on either, and, except for the Royal George idly flapping in the morning breeze, there appeared to be absolute quiet aboard—save only that the two rogues, who had been left in charge, were swinging by their necks from the yard-arm.
The pirates were gathered in animated discussion—their first rage had quieted into sullenness. Their four boats still lay at the landing—quite sufficient to get them back to the ship in detachments, but scarcely enough for an attacking party. Long-Sword was standing apart from the others, trying to make out what force was against them. Manifestly, if he wanted to regain his ship, the thing was to go and take it—and, at length, he gave the order to attack. How admirable his discipline, was shown by their waiting for the word.
One by one, he designated the men who should go, calling them by name, until the boats could hold no more. Then he stepped aboard the nearest, and took the tiller.