Who could have dreamed that a handful of forgotten plantation-slaves would have dared to take so much upon themselves?

The half-drunken Spaniards, their laughter suddenly quenched, the song perishing on their lips, stared, stricken and bewildered at the levelled muskets by which they were checkmated.

And then, from out of this uncouth pack of savages that beset them, stepped a slim, tall fellow with light-blue eyes in a tawny face, eyes in which glinted the light of a wicked humour.  He addressed them in the purest Castilian.

“You will save yourselves pain and trouble by regarding yourselves my prisoners, and suffering yourselves to be quietly bestowed out of harm’s way.”

“Name of God!” swore the gunner, which did no justice at all to an amazement beyond expression.

“If you please,” said Mr. Blood, and thereupon those gentlemen of Spain were induced without further trouble beyond a musket prod or two to drop through a scuttle to the deck below.

After that the rebels-convict refreshed themselves with the good things in the consumption of which they had interrupted the Spaniards.  To taste palatable Christian food after months of salt fish and maize dumplings was in itself a feast to these unfortunates.  But there were no excesses.  Mr. Blood saw to that, although it required all the firmness of which he was capable.

Dispositions were to be made without delay against that which must follow before they could abandon themselves fully to the enjoyment of their victory.  This, after all, was no more than a preliminary skirmish, although it was one that afforded them the key to the situation.  It remained to dispose so that the utmost profit might be drawn from it.  Those dispositions occupied some very considerable portion of the night.  But, at least, they were complete before the sun peeped over the shoulder of Mount Hilibay to shed his light upon a day of some surprises.

It was soon after sunrise that the rebel-convict who paced the quarter-deck in Spanish corselet and headpiece, a Spanish musket on his shoulder, announced the approach of a boat.  It was Don Diego de Espinosa y Valdez coming aboard with four great treasure-chests, containing each twenty-five thousand pieces of eight, the ransom delivered to him at dawn by Governor Steed.  He was accompanied by his son, Don Esteban, and by six men who took the oars.

Aboard the frigate all was quiet and orderly as it should be.  She rode at anchor, her larboard to the shore, and the main ladder on her starboard side.  Round to this came the boat with Don Diego and his treasure.  Mr. Blood had disposed effectively.  It was not for nothing that he had served under de Ruyter.  The swings were waiting, and the windlass manned.  Below, a gun-crew held itself in readiness under the command of Ogle, who — as I have said — had been a gunner in the Royal Navy before he went in for politics and followed the fortunes of the Duke of Monmouth.  He was a sturdy, resolute fellow who inspired confidence by the very confidence he displayed in himself.