The former was a short, broad-shouldered man, with a heavy, black beard. He was dressed in typical buccaneering rig, with a red sash round his waist, in which were stuck a whole armoury of pistols and a short Turkish dagger. Cruelty and viciousness were stamped upon every outline of his face, but at the same time there were signs of a courageous nature and resource. He was apparently a Genoese or a Tuscan, and did not, or would not, speak English, though he understood our replies in the subsequent discourse we had with him.
His lieutenant was a taller man, also heavily bearded, and bronzed with the sun. In spite of myself I gave an exclamation of surprise, for he was none other than the man with the scarred face who had tried to rob me on the Portsmouth road over three years ago, and who had escaped from Colonel Middleton's troopers in the Forest of Bere.
The recognition was mutual, and from the look of intense hatred on the man's features I knew that my fate was sealed. The two pirates conversed volubly in an unknown tongue, then the renegade Englishman turned towards us again.
"Listen, men," he said, addressing my companions in adversity. "Join us and you'll have a life that cannot be beaten. Light work, a fair share of fighting, and plenty of booty. In two years you'll be rich enough to buy the best inns in England, and can live like gentlemen to the end of your days. Refuse, and----" Here he jerked his thumb significantly in the direction of the entry port.
"And as for you, you white-livered young cub," he added, addressing me, "our captain here has given you to me, and, let me say, Dick Swyre will be avenged. I'll have a little way of my own that will make you wish that his end at the hands of the hangman were yours. Now, my lads, what do you say? Wilt join our merry crew?"
The men who were appealed to were not long in making up their minds. Tom Black and George Wilson firmly and emphatically refused, and their example was followed by the two remaining Gannets--Dick Blake and a man whose name I knew not, he being always called Old Shellback. The fifth was the blackamoor who had been a galley slave. He, miserable cur that he was, assented with alacrity, and was sent for'ard to join the rascally crew.
My four men were led away, and for a time I was left to myself. I was still dizzy from the effects of the blow I had received, and this probably accounted for the complete indifference that I felt with regard to my fate. My wrists and ankles were tied, making it impossible for me to move, save by crawling and worming along the deck.
The pirates were still busily engaged in making preparations for the coming fight, and from the general direction of the glances that they made I came to the conclusion that the Friend of the Sea was in this case the fugitive. So busy were they that I edged towards an arm-rack, and, placing my bound wrists against a sharp cutlass, I succeeded in freeing them from the cords that bound them. This done, it was an easy matter to loose the ropes that fastened my ankles; then, lying in a position that hid my limbs from any passing pirate, I tried to form a plan of escape.
I could, of course, leap through a port into the sea, taking my chance of being picked up by the pursuing craft, which I fondly hoped would be the avenging Gannet; but I did not know what distance separated us, and even then, in the eagerness of the chase, there was little likelihood of their noticing me, still less of heaving to and picking me up.
Suddenly I thought of the foretop. If only I could reach that I could defy the whole of the pirate crew, and at the same time render material assistance to their foes. Now that I was free, my lethargy vanished, and I was the personification of active revenge.