"But—but" Captain Marcale grew as pale as a sheet. "I—I cannot do it."
"You want to live, don't you?"
"Yes, but"
"I won't listen to your talk. You played a desperate game, and you have lost. Do you imagine that your life is of any consequence to me? You must order the ship back."
A groan was the only reply now. The Spaniard realized that he had indeed "come to the end of his rope."
"And you must order that English sailor to come below," I put in.
"Why shall I do that?"
"We want to talk to him."
"And my mate is to come down too?"
"Your mate will stay on deck," put in Oliver. "If he makes the least movement to come down here your life will pay for it, remember that. Now keep quiet while we drag you over to the hatchway."
We caught the rascal up and pulled him over the boxes and barrels to a position directly under the hatchway. We had scarcely reached the spot when somebody appeared above—one of the sailors.
"Stop!" I called out. "Are you Larvello, the mate?"
The man shook his head and stared at me.
