“It was not pleasant,” answered Jack, briefly. “Terence, have you ever thought of dying?”
“Yes, I have; that is to say, I have known that I was running many a chance of being knocked on the head or finished in some way or other,” answered Adair, with some little hesitation.
“Then, Terence, my dear fellow, let us look at it as an awful reality, which is about speedily to overtake us,” said Jack solemnly. “These fellows threaten to at once take our lives; depend on it, they will put their threats into execution.”
“It is hard to bear, Jack dear,” replied Adair; “I am so sorry for you and for all your brothers and sisters at home. I don’t think mine care much for me; that’s one comfort. But I say, I wish that the blackguards would let us have our arms free, that we might still have a fight for our lives.”
“Don’t speak thus, Terence,” said Jack, who was almost overcome by Adair’s allusion to his family. “Don’t let us think of the past, but keep our thoughts fixed on the future world we are about to enter, and think how very unfit we are of ourselves for the glorious place we would wish to go to.”
Terence listened, and responded in the same tone to his messmate. Much more they said to the same effect, nor did they forget to offer up their prayers for preservation from the terrible danger which threatened them. Then, with the calmness of Christians and brave men, they awaited the doom they believed prepared for them. Such consolation as they could give also they offered to the survivors of their crew. Two poor fellows had been killed outright; another was bleeding to death on the deck, nor would the brutal Spaniards offer him the slightest assistance, while they prevented his shipmates from giving it him. Jack himself was suffering also much pain from his wound, while he felt so faint from loss of blood that he could scarcely support himself. He had told Needham that the Spaniards threatened to kill them all.
“Well, sir, they may do it if they dare, but they will be sure to be caught some day or other,” answered Needham. “I wouldn’t change places with them. We shall die having done our duty; they will be hung up like dogs. If I knew their lingo I would tell them so.”
The English were not long left in quiet. So many of the Spaniards had been wounded that some time was spent by them in bandaging up their hurts, and as soon as this was done they came on deck eager to wreak their vengeance on their captive foes. They now came about them with their long knives, flourishing them before their eyes, and pretending to stab at them. Some indeed, more brutal than the rest, actually stuck their knives into their flesh, but though blood was drawn, the seamen generally disdained even to utter a word, though one or two said, “I’ll tell you what, you villains, if I can get my fists at liberty, I’ll give it you.” At length Don Diogo and the captain of the schooner came out from the cabin. They had apparently made up their minds what to do. The latter gave orders to reeve ropes to each yard-arm, while planks were got up and placed over the sides, secured on board by lanyards. On these being cut, of course the end of the plank overboard would instantly sink down and let the person standing on it into the water. Don Diogo had, it seemed, taken upon himself the direction of the executions. Jack and Adair had supposed that the Spaniards would wait till the morning to kill them, but the little Don evidently had no wish to delay his vengeance.
“Cast the prisoners loose, and bring them aft,” he cried out. “Now, you scoundrel heretics, what have you got to say for yourselves? Nothing? I thought so. Well, I will be merciful. You shall choose the mode of your death. What shall it be—will you be hung or walk the plank? There are plenty of sharks alongside who will be happy to entomb you either way.”
No one replied to this address.