"Be silent, Sheriff! It is not in your province to criticise your superiors. Ingle, we shall now put you aboard ship and give you six hours to make good your departure. But if at dawn so much as a topmast of The Reformation be seen from St. Mary's, we will have her overhauled and her captain strung up at the yard-arm."
Ingle's senses were returning fast, and he responded to the Councillor's words with a smile, the cool impudence of which irritated Neale beyond endurance. He saw that the sailors were gathering on the deck, and that time was short.
"Seize him!" he cried suddenly to Huntoon and Cornwaleys; "seize the cur and toss him on board his vessel as he deserves."
Huntoon and Cornwaleys, delighted at the chance to wreak even a portion of their vengeance, needed no second bidding. Cornwaleys seized his head and Huntoon his feet, and with a mighty swing they flung him clear of the wharf and landed him in the middle of the deck amid a circle of sailors half angry, half grinning.
"Remember!" cried Neale, warningly.
"A good riddance!" exclaimed Cornwaleys as they walked away.
"Yes, if he stays rid," answered Neale, doubtfully. "Ellyson, you are to be silent on this night's doings."
"I know my duty," said Ellyson, sullenly, "even when I am not permitted to do it. But I know not how I am to answer to Governor Brent for this night's work."
Neale leaned over and whispered some words in his ear which seemed to amaze him, the more so as something which showed under the struggling moonbeams round and yellow and shining was slipped into his hand by Cornwaleys on the other side.
"Master Huntoon, we trust to your honor."