“Indeed you have, Gerrard,” answered Devereux. “I should have been food for the land crabs if it hadn’t been for you; but we’ll not say anything more about the reward just now.”
They were approaching the beach where the boats were waiting.
“Hillo, what is that?” cried O’Grady. “Oh, you vile scoundrels—you did that, I know you did.”
He shook his fist at the prisoners as he spoke, and pointed to the body of the poor black, which lay in their course, with the head smashed to pieces. The pirates had evidently found him wounded on the ground when they landed, and had thus wreaked their vengeance on him.
The seamen stopped a few short minutes to bury him in the sand, and the midshipmen, as they passed on, muttered, “Poor old Charcoal, good bye.”
The pirates would have had very little chance just then of escaping with their lives had the seamen been their judges, and in consequence of the cruel murder of the black, they got many a punch in the ribs and a lift with the knee as they were bundled into the boats. Hitherto, of course, those on board the Cerberus were ignorant that Devereux and his companions were on the island. As the boats approached the ship, all glasses were turned towards them; but it took some time after they had climbed up the sides to explain who they were and where they had come from, so haggard in countenance were they, and so tattered in dress, and blood and smoke-begrimed. Devereux lost not a moment in speaking to Captain Walford in warm terms of Paul’s conduct throughout all the events which had occurred, adding, “To-day, sir, he saved my life by shooting a man who was on the point of cutting me down, and I must entreat you to give him the only reward he would value, or indeed, I believe, accept.”
“What is that?” asked Captain Walford, smiling at the idea of a ship-boy being punctilious as to the style of reward he would receive.
“Why, sir, that you would place him on the quarter-deck,” answered Devereux, boldly. “There is no one who will do it more credit, or is better fitted to become an officer than Paul Gerrard, sir.”
“I will keep him in mind, and perhaps he may have an opportunity of distinguishing himself while under my eye,” answered the captain; but he made no promise to promote Paul, and Devereux left him, fearing very much that he was displeased at his having mentioned the subject.
All the party were, however, warmly welcomed on board, and Alphonse, who had now learned a good deal of English, became a great favourite both with officers and men. As there happened to be no fiddler among the crew, his violin was in great requisition. He had no pride, and as he took delight in giving pleasure, he constantly went forward to play to the men while they danced. There was nothing they would not have done for the “little mounseer,” as they called him.