The dreadful moment had arrived.
Ketch the Practitioner took his place by Mr. Hanlon's side, planted his feet firmly, wide apart, tucked in his right shirt-sleeve at the shoulder, and raised his gleaming cutlass high above his head.
A scream from Aunt Amanda made him hesitate for an instant, but only for an instant; as Aunt Amanda and Freddie closed their eyes and buried their faces in
their hands, the cutlass flashed twice around the head of Ketch and came down with a swift and horrible slash straight upon the back of Mr. Hanlon's neck.
A single stroke was enough; Mr. Hanlon's head rolled off upon the ground.
"Well done, Ketch," said Captain Lingo, quietly. "I doubt if there's another hand on the Spanish Main could have done it."
Ketch blushed with honest pride at these gracious words. He swung his bloody cutlass in embarrassment. All the pirates turned towards the pale group on the grass, and Captain Lingo said, "Next!"
Freddie stood up. His knees began to tremble under him, and his heart was beating so fast that he could hardly breathe. Aunt Amanda flung her arms about him as he stood beside her, and cried "No, no, no!" in a voice of anguish.
All eyes were on the Little Boy, as he stood awaiting his dreadful fate, with Aunt Amanda's arms about him. His time had come. His friends were waiting to see if he would be brave, and though his face was white his courage did not fail him. He looked at them in farewell, and each one gave him a tearful gaze in return.
He turned his eyes towards the warm and friendly landscape, for a last look at the world he was about to leave. It would be hard to go, and he would need all his strength to bear the—A loud cry from Freddie startled all the others. "Look!" he cried, and pointed a shaking finger.