“At an exorbitant price,” added St. Magil. “But we pay it willingly. To-night, then”—his voice sank so low as to be almost inaudible to Vytal at the open window—“to-night, then, we leave them behind. The fly-boat’s pilot, another of my beneficiaries, will play havoc with her steerage-gear. This is their chart, which I procured. The plan has been well arranged. ’Tis for you to clap on sail and leave them.”
“Mary save me!” exclaimed Ferdinando, shuddering. “I fear they will perish.”
“Nay, good Simon, this Bay of Portugal holds many ships, some of which will doubtless succor the fly-boat.”
“Or, being Spaniards, sink her!”
“Yes, there is that chance, I allow. I have told the pilot, in case of attack, to surrender, proclaim himself my servant, and so save the rest from death.”
“And so,” whispered Ferdinando, “deliver them to a bondage worse than death.”
St. Magil shrugged his shoulders. “It is but a choice of evils,” he avowed. “In Virginia they would fare yet worse. With them to strengthen it the colony would resist our men from St. Augustine, whereas now I look for a quick surrender. There will be no fight.”
“We lead our countrymen into a trap, Sir Walter, God forgive us!”
“Our countrymen!” ejaculated St. Magil. “I took you for a Spaniard, Ferdinando.”
“By parentage only,” responded the master. “But you are an English knight.”