“Is all ready?”

“All right,” replied the boy, in a whisper.

“The ooman aboard?”

“Aye.”

“Now, Mr. Gascoyne,” said Dick, pointing to a large boat floating beside the rocks on which they stood, “you’ll be so good as to step into that ’ere boat, and sit down beside the individual you see a-sitting in the stern-sheets.”

“Have you authority for what you do?” asked Gascoyne, hesitating.

“I have power to enforce wot I command,” said Dick, quietly.  “Remember yer promise, Mister Pirate, else—­”

Dick finished his sentence by pointing to the three men who stood near—­still maintaining a silence worthy of Eastern mutes; and Gascoyne, feeling that he was completely in their power, stepped quickly into the boat, and sat down beside the “individual” referred to by Dick, who was so completely enveloped in the folds of a large cloak as to defy recognition.  But the pirate captain was too much occupied with his own conflicting thoughts and feelings to bestow more than a passing glance on the person who sat at his side.  Indeed, it was not surprising that Gascoyne was greatly perplexed by all that was going on at that time; for he could not satisfactorily account to himself for the mystery and secrecy which his guards chose to maintain.  If they were legitimate agents of the law, why these muffled oars, with which they swept the boat across the lagoon, through the gap in the coral reef, and out to sea?  And if they were not agents of the law, who were they, and where were they conveying him?

The boat was a large one, half-decked, and fitted to stand a heavy sea and rough weather.  It would have moved sluggishly through the water had not the four men who pulled the oars been possessed of more than average strength.  As soon as they passed the barrier reef, the sails were hoisted, and Dick took the helm.  The breeze was blowing fresh off the land, and the water rushed past the boat as she cut swiftly out to sea, leaving a track of white foam behind her.  For a few minutes the mass of the island was dimly seen rising like a huge shade on the dark sky, but soon it melted away, and nothing remained for the straining eyes to rest upon save the boat with its silent crew and the curling foam on the black sea.

“We’ve got him safe now, lads,” said Dick Price, speaking for the first time that night in unguarded tones.  “You’d better do the deed.  The sooner it’s done the better.”

While he was speaking, one of the three men opened a large clasp-knife, and advanced towards Gascoyne.

“Father,” said Henry, cutting the rope that bound him, “you are free at last!”

Gascoyne started; but before he had time to utter the exclamation of surprise that sprang to his lips, his hand was seized by the muffled figure that sat at his side.

“O, Gascoyne! forgive us—­forgive me!” said Mary Stuart, in a trembling voice.  “I did, indeed, know something of what they meant to do, but I knew nothing of the cruel violence that these bonds—­”