"Ha! ha!" laughed Skyrme, "that's all we lack. We have conquered plenty of merchantmen and war-ships, now we must capture pirates to have the whole variety."
The entire crew watched the approaching ships with eager curiosity, saying to one another, "They think they are attacking a government ship, how amazed they will be when they reach us!"
Moody was shading his eyes first with one hand and then the other, straining them till they fairly started from their sockets. Suddenly he clapped his hands, threw up his hat, and throwing himself down on the deck laughed till he was red in the face.
"Moody! Have you gone crazy?" asked Barthelemy. "The man never laughed before in his whole life. What ails you, Moody?"
"Don't you know those ships?" he asked, half raising himself, then flung himself back in another fit of laughter so uncontrollable that the men were obliged to seize and hold him before he grew quiet.
"Speak, old lunatic, what ails you?"
"When I tell you, you'll all jump out of your skins. Don't you see those two ships? Don't you recognize them? They are the Sea Devil, and the Dutch ship which ran away from us, left us starving on the sea, and now are coming straight into the jaws of our guns! Isn't it enough to drive a man mad with joy?"
The awful shout of delight from the pirates drowned Moody's laughter; with bloodthirsty eagerness they rushed for their weapons, climbed on the yards to get a better view of the approaching vessels, and shook their fists at them.
They had found the traitors who had left their comrades to meet the most terrible death by starvation, and who now voluntarily came to encounter their revenge. This thought moved even Barthelemy so much that a burning flush crimsoned his pale face. His mute lips refused to give utterance to his feverish joy, but his countenance belied them.
"Calm yourselves!" he said to his men, "we'll let them come nearer; get behind the bulwarks, they must be an easy prey, and their hearts shall stop beating when they suddenly see our faces."