"What d'ye mean?" gasped the prisoner, his eyes rolling heavily in his terror.
"I beg you not to interrupt. A connection with the Sea Belle would have taught anyone but an utter villain or a fool a lifelong lesson. I will pass over those minor affairs at Boni Harbour and Fortescue Strait, though by mentioning them you can realise that I know a good deal of your former career. What you've been doing since is of little consequence, though I'll wager that your existence will not bear investigation. Now, to complete your record, you've been caught in the act of attempting to treacherously slay your white—well, I won't say friends. Thanks to a merciful Providence, your schemes were thwarted. I am now going to keep you in custody till I can hand you over to justice at Brisbane, where you will have a fair trial and be allowed to answer to a number of various crimes."
Mr. McKay paused to note the effect of his accusation, then he continued:
"I am going to keep you a close prisoner in the fo'c'sle till we return to our island. You will then be kept in confinement ashore till such time as we are able to reach some island under the control of a recognised British governor. Have you anything to say?"
The ex-pearler maintained a sullen silence, and, without offering any resistance, he was carried into the fo'c'sle and locked in, there to meditate on the fate in store for him.
"Ellerton, go back to your bunk. You ought not to be here," exclaimed Mr. McKay.
"But I feel all right again," replied the youth.
"Probably you do, but with your arm in that state absolute rest is essential. So go. Andy, we've had enough of this island, so let's clap on all sail and shape a course for home."
In the moonlight the entrance through the reef was plainly visible. There was a favourable breeze, so that the yawl could lay on her course without having to tack.
As the anchor rose, a long-drawn chorus of shouts of rage came from the beach, and a swarm of arrows, all of which fell short, hurtled through the air.