“If it’s mortal, I’ll soon make it immortal.”

“Hold, Sukey!” whispered Fernando, “let us see what it is before you fire.”

“Golly! massa, it am comin’ dis way!”

Fernando could see that the object, with its strange incongruous head, its long arms, of which it now seemed to have three or four, was advancing toward them over the uneven ground; and he gave the order to fall back until they were nearer the troops.

When within about one hundred paces, Fernando made a stand and cried: 

“Halt!”

This was the first word uttered loud enough to reach the strange four-armed, one-headed, but legless spectre.  It produced a wonderful effect, for the odd figure wheeled about and started off at something like a run.  Sukey brought his gun to his shoulder and fired.

The report of the gun was the signal for the riflemen under Lieutenant Willard to charge, and all gave chase to the spectre.

“Don’t fire another shot!” cried Fernando.  The spectre had not gone a hundred paces, before it stumbled over a loose stone and fell.  In a moment, Terrence Malone had seized it and cried: 

“Huzzah! boys, I’ve caught the divil himsilf.”

The spectre proved to be a very material like person in the form of a tall sailor with a white jacket and cap and blue trousers.  His superabundance of arms could be accounted for by the long, white oar, which he had been carrying on his shoulder, and which he explained was his only weapon, offensive or defensive.

“Where are you from?” asked Fernando.

“I am from his majesty’s frigate Xenophon,” he answered.

“Are you a deserter?” asked Fernando.

“Yes, sir; I am an American by birth, and will die before I raise my hand against my country.  To-day, because I refused to work at the guns, I was arrested, to be flogged in the morning, hung or shot at the pleasure of Captain Snipes.”

“I believe I know that voice—­” began Captain Stevens.

“Holy golly! it am Massa St. Mark!” yelled a voice behind them, and Job tore his way through the crowd and, flinging his arms about the sailor, cried:  “Massa St. Mark!  Massa St. Mark! am it you?”

“Faith, it’s the best gunner in the British navy!” cried Terrence.

Fernando had no trouble in recognizing in the stranger the gentlemanly gunner of the Macedonian, who had saved him from being flogged.  Terrence, Fernando, Job and Sukey crowded about the newcomer and for a moment plied him with questions.  He explained that, having slipped his handcuffs, he rushed on deck, seized the oar, which he still carried, knocked down two sentries and leaped overboard.  They fired a hundred shots at him; but, being an excellent swimmer, and the night being dark, he managed to escape.  Lying on his back, holding to the oar, he watched for the flash of their guns and pistols, and, when they fired, ducked his head under the water.