The third prisoner now appeared, and Barthelemy exclaimed in surprise, "That is Henry Glasby."
The former captain of the Fortuna was the third captive.
Glasby was a handsome young man, with a noble face, whom the pirates kept among them by force on account of his superior knowledge of seamanship; his gentle nature and kind heart were known to the whole band, for he protected all who fell into their hands, as far as lay in his power, frequently paying their ransom out of his own pocket; his entreaties had saved many a ship from burning, and he had always kept aloof from the bacchanalian orgies of his companions, for which reason they did not hold him in special regard, and always watched him with suspicious eyes. He had already made one attempt to escape, which had been pardoned, now he was certainly doomed. After the first expression of surprise, Barthelemy's face had regained its cold, unmoved composure. Scudamore awaited the verdict with greedy impatience.
Glasby stood before Barthelemy with unquailing resolution.
"You have already pronounced sentence upon two," he said fearlessly. "There is no reason why you should make me an exception. I have but one request; send this valueless locket containing my portrait to my mother,—she lives in Norfolk. It also has a curl of hair belonging to my betrothed bride, whom I longed to see, and for whom I die."
Barthelemy trembled and gazed intently at Glasby's face.
"You have a betrothed bride whom you longed to see?" he said in a stifled voice, loosing the ropes from his wrists—"go back to her, I release you—"
"Captain! Two are hanging already," shouted Scudamore, furious as he saw the escape of the man whose death he most desired. "The third rope is waiting for its ornament."
"It will pull up the man who dares to contradict my judgment!" answered Barthelemy, gazing fiercely at the defiant faces, and closed the door of his cabin behind him.
The whole band remained silent.