Senor Perkins smiled peculiarly.

“I am sorry to disappoint them.  Who’s that in the boat?” he asked suddenly.

The mate followed the Senor’s glance.

“It is Yoto.  He says he is going ashore, and you will not forbid him.”

Senor Perkins approached the ship’s side.

“Come here,” he said to the man.

The Peruvian sailor rose, but did not make the slightest movement to obey the command.

“You say you are going ashore?” said Perkins blandly.

“Yes, Patrono.”

“What for?”

“To follow him—­the thief, the assassin—­who struck me here;” he pointed to his head.  “He has escaped again with his booty.”

“You are very foolish, my Yoto; he is no thief, and has no booty.  They will put you in prison, not him.”

“You say so,” said the man surlily.  “Perhaps they will hear me—­for other things,” he added significantly.

“And for this you would abandon the cause?”

The man shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not?” he glanced meaningly at two of his companions, who had approached the side; “perhaps others would.  Who is sending the booty ashore, eh?”

“Come out of that boat,” said the Senor, leaning over the bulwarks with folded arms, and his eyes firmly fixed on the man.

The man did not move.  But the Senor’s hand suddenly flew to the back of his neck, smote violently downwards, and sent eighteen inches of glittering steel hurtling through the air.  The bowie-knife entered the upturned throat of the man and buried itself halfway to the hilt.  Without a gasp or groan he staggered forward, caught wildly at the side of the ship, and disappeared between the boat and the vessel.

“My lads,” said Senor Perkins, turning with a gentle smile towards the faces that in the light of the swinging lantern formed a ghastly circle around him, “when I boarded this ship that had brought aid and succor to our oppressors at Callao, I determined to take possession of it peacefully, without imperiling the peace and property of the innocent passengers who were intrusted to its care, and without endangering your own lives or freedom.  But I made no allowance for traitors.  The blood that has been shed to-night has not been spilt in obedience to my orders, nor to the cause that we serve; it was from defiance of it; and the real and only culprit has just atoned for it.”

He stopped, and then stepped back from the gangway, as if to leave it open to the men.

“What I have done,” he continued calmly, “I do not ask you to consider either as an example or a warning.  You are free to do what he would have done,” he repeated, with a wave of his hand towards the open gangway and the empty boat.  “You are free to break your contract and leave the ship, and I give you my word that I will not lift a hand to prevent it.  But if you stay with me,” he said, suddenly turning upon them a face as livid as their own, “I swear by the living God, that, if between this and the accomplishment of my design, you as much as shirk or question any order given by me, you shall die the death of that dog who went before you.  Choose as you please—­but quickly.”