The pirate made no reply for some time, and the troubled, anxious look that had more than once crossed his face returned.

“Yes,” said he, at length, “I have thought of that.  But it is done now, and cannot be undone.  I can do no more now than give myself up to justice.  You see, I have thrown away my arms and stand here defenseless.  But I did not come here to plead for mercy.  I came to make to you all the reparation I can for the wrong I have done you.  When that last act is completed, you may do with me what you please.  I deserve to die, and I care not to live.”

“O Gascoyne! speak not thus!” exclaimed the widow, earnestly.  “However much and deeply you have sinned against man, if you have not taken life you do not deserve to die.  Besides, there is a way of pardon open to the very chief of sinners.”

“I know what you mean, Mary, I know what you mean; but—­well, well, this is neither the time nor place to talk of such things.  Your little girl, Mr. Mason, is in the hands of the pirates.”

“I know that,” said the missionary, wincing as if he had received a deep wound; “but she is not in your power now.”

“More’s the pity; she would have been safer with me than with my first mate, who is the greatest villain afloat on the high seas.  He does not like our milk-and-water style of robbing.  He is an out-and-out pirate in heart, and has long desired to cut my throat.  I have to thank him for being here to-night.  Some of the crew who are like himself seized me while I was asleep, bound and gagged me, put me into a boat, and rowed me ashore; for we had easily escaped the Talisman in the squall, and, doubling on our course, came back here.  The mate was anxious to clear off old scores by cutting my throat at once, and pitching me into the sea.  Luckily some of the men, not so bloodthirsty as he, objected to this; so I was landed and cast loose.”

“But what of Alice?” cried Mr. Mason, anxiously.  “How can we save her?”

“By taking my advice,” answered Gascoyne.  “You have a small cutter at anchor off the creek at the foot of the hill.  Put a few trusty men aboard of her, and I will guide you to the island where the Avenger has been wont to fly when hard pressed.”

“But how do you know that Manton will go there?” inquired Henry, eagerly.

“Because he is short of powder, and all our stores are concealed there, besides much of our ill-gotten wealth.”

“And how can you expect us to put ourselves so completely in your power?” said Mr. Mason.

“Because you must do so if you would save your child.  She is safe now, I know, and will be until the Avenger leaves the island where our stores are concealed.  If we do not save her before that happens, she is lost to you forever!”

“That no man can say.  She is in the hands of God,” cried Mr. Mason, fervently.

“True, true,” said Gascoyne, musing.  “But God does not work by miracles.  We must be up and doing at once.  I promise you that I shall be faithful, and that, after the work is done, I will give myself up to justice.”