Henry made no reply, but his knitted brows and compressed lips shewed that a struggle was going on within him. Suddenly he stood erect, and said firmly—
“Be it so, Gascoyne. I will hold you to your promise. You shall not escape me!”
With this somewhat singular reply, Henry left his surprised companion and mingled with the crowd of men who stood on the quarter-deck.
A light breeze had now sprung up, and the Foam was gliding rapidly towards the island. Gascoyne’s deep voice was still heard at intervals issuing a word of command; for, as he knew the reefs better than any one else on board, Montague had intrusted him with the pilotage of the vessel into harbour.
When they had passed the barrier-reef, and were sailing over the calm waters of the enclosed lagoon in the direction of Sandy Cove, the young officer went up to the pirate captain with a perplexed air and a degree of hesitation that was very foreign to his character.
Gascoyne flushed deeply when he observed him. “I know what you would say to me,” he said, quickly. “You have a duty to perform. I am ready.”
“Gascoyne,” said Montague, with deep earnestness of tone and manner, “I would willingly spare you this, but, as you say, I have a duty to perform. I would, with all my heart, that it had fallen to other hands. Believe me, I appreciate what you have done within the last few days, and I believe what you have said in regard to yourself and your career. All this, you may depend upon it, will operate powerfully with your judges. But you know I cannot permit you to quit this vessel a free man.”
“I know it,” said Gascoyne, calmly.
“And—and—” (here Montague stammered and came to an abrupt pause.)
“Say on, Captain Montague. I appreciate your generosity in feeling for me thus; but I am prepared to meet whatever awaits me.”