“Then, my dear young captain, if the Lord puts a precious soul under your care, don’t you refuse to bear the burden He lays on you.”

Amyas was silent awhile; while Ayacanora, who was evidently utterly exhausted by the night’s adventure, and probably by long wanderings, watchings, and weepings which had gone before it, sank with her head against his knee, fell fast asleep, and breathed as gently as a child.

At last he rose in the canoe, and called Cary alongside.

“Listen to me, gentlemen, and sailors all.  You know that we have a maiden on board here, by no choice of our own.  Whether she will be a blessing to us, God alone can tell:  but she may turn to the greatest curse which has befallen us ever since we came out over Bar three years ago.  Promise me one thing, or I put her ashore the next beach, and that is, that you will treat her as if she were your own sister; and make an agreement here and now, that if the maid comes to harm among us, the man that is guilty shall hang for it by the neck till he’s dead, even though he be I, Captain Leigh, who speak to you.  I’ll hang you, as I am a Christian; and I give you free leave to hang me.”

“A very fair bargain,” quoth Cary, “and I for one will see it kept to.  Lads, we’ll twine a double strong halter for the captain as we go down along.”

“I am not jesting, Will.”

“I know it, good old lad,” said Cary, stretching out his own hand to him across the water through the darkness, and giving him a hearty shake.  “I know it; and listen, men!  So help me God! but I’ll be the first to back the Captain in being as good as his word, as I trust he never will need to be.”

“Amen!” said Brimblecombe.  “Amen!” said Yeo; and many an honest voice joined in that honest compact, and kept it too, like men.

CHAPTER XXVI

HOW THEY TOOK THE GREAT GALLEON

“When captains courageous, whom death could not daunt,
Did march to the siege of the city of Gaunt,
They muster’d their soldiers by two and by three,
But the foremost in battle was Mary Ambree. 
When brave Sir John Major was slain in her sight,
Who was her true lover, her joy and delight,
Because he was murther’d most treacherouslie,
Then vow’d to avenge him fair Mary Ambree.”

Old Ballad, A. D. 1584.

One more glance at the golden tropic sea, and the golden tropic evenings, by the shore of New Granada, in the golden Spanish Main.

The bay of Santa Marta is rippling before the land-breeze one sheet of living flame.  The mighty forests are sparkling with myriad fireflies.  The lazy mist which lounges round the inner hills shines golden in the sunset rays; and, nineteen thousand feet aloft, the mighty peak of Horqueta cleaves the abyss of air, rose-red against the dark-blue vault of heaven.  The rosy cone fades to a dull leaden hue; but only