"The boat!" suddenly shouted the man at the helm, and all left the old pirate and his stories to watch the approaching yawl, which they hailed with cheers, waving their caps aloft, while the returning men sat silent, as if they found the meeting less joyful than their comrades.
Skyrme was the captain of the boat. When he reached the sloop he stepped on her deck with a downcast, angry face, and answered the questions poured upon him from all sides: "Have you rum, meat, biscuit?" with "Nothing," and when, wondering at the reply, the men shook their heads, Skyrme turned to Barthelemy with quivering lips.
"Captain, we are deceived, betrayed, lost."
"What do you mean?"
"Both the ships you intrusted to Kennedy have disappeared."
"Impossible."
"It is true. We searched two days without finding any trace of them; at last we learned from some fisherman that, as soon as we were out of sight, they crowded on all sail and went to sea."
A roar of mingled fury and despair greeted these words; the cheated pirates, with knives uplifted, vowed to inflict a thousand tortures on the traitors. Barthelemy was deadly pale.
"We will meet them," he said hoarsely. "There is not a moment to lose. Forward my lads."
"Where?" asked Skyrme despairingly.