Captain.—"Then the first thing I shall do on the dawn will be to scan the sea. Something unusual must have occurred to put the pirates to all this pother."
With the first streak of day came the pirate captain with his flag of truce, and again made his offers of peace, friendship, and civility, and again met with a vehement negative, though most forlorn were now our hopes and fortunes. To our surprise we now only saw La Luna. There was not a vestige of the pirate ship.
The pirate king had now recourse to threats, which we heard in disdainful silence. After spending half an hour in oaths and threats, he waved his hand, and, stamping with anger, pointed to La Luna. "I give you one hour," he cried, "if by that time you do not come down voluntarily, I intend sweeping the top of your rock with those two guns." We looked towards the vessel; she had been brought within gun shot, and her brass cannons were placed directly before us. "I know," continued the pirate, "who you all are, and I have no wish to harm you, but rather to gain the rewards offered for your recovery. Be persuaded and be reasonable."
Mother.—"Captain, what do you think, what shall we do, he speaks fair?"
Captain.—"Madam, we must not trust him. I feel sure they have some reason for this bustle and activity all night, and I feel persuaded they have scuttled their ship and sunk her. Look round, and you will see that when they retire into the caverns, there is not a trace of human beings about save our own vessel, and that looks weather-beaten and old enough to have been riding at anchor there for ages. No doubt they have concealed all traces of themselves in her. If they get us down they will use us as hostages for their own safety, or they may murder us at once, and thus leave no one to tell the tale of the caverns. As long as we are alive that secret cannot be kept, and, having made a settlement here, I think there is every probability that they will commit any crime sooner than suffer such a convenient and suitable stronghold for them to be discovered. I trust them not, let us trust in God."
Mother.—"And you, Schillie, tell me what do you advise?"
Schillie rose up, and drawing me to the highest part of the rock, turned her broad white forehead to the ship, while her clear eyes, darkened in their beauty by the emotions of the hour, looked steadily down into the mouths of the guns.
Schillie.—"June, do you believe that the spirits of the departed know what occurs on earth, and with unseen forms can visit those they love?"
June.—"I hold some such doctrine, my Schillie, but whether there is truth in it or not, the departed alone can tell."
Schillie.—"I'll put faith in your doctrine, my mistress, and think that in an hour I may behold my children, though unseen by them."