"Bad news for me! Have none of them escaped?"
"A few hundred took refuge in a captured ship and fled to Africa."
"I thank you. You can go on."
The messenger continued his journey, shaking his head; he could not understand why any one should regret that the rebels were conquered, or rejoice because a number of them had escaped.
"What has happened to you, captain?" asked Moody, when Barthelemy returned to the ship. "You are as pale as a corpse."
"Nothing," replied his commander in a hollow tone. "Only my heart has died in my breast."
The pirates asked no further questions. They knew all. Whenever any one of them left the band, the others kept watch from a distance. They had seen Barthelemy sitting despairingly beside the ruins of the hut, and all shrank in timid silence from the pallid man.
Barthelemy shut himself up in his cabin and, taking a chart, began to study the course to Africa. His face was gloomy, but ever and anon his eyes flashed fiercely. Suddenly he heard a knock at the door and angrily opened it.