“Didst think Yellow Rufe was free? Thou fool! Thy wits are powerless before a woman’s. Did my pretty Pascherette tell him he might go free, taking my sloop, escaping my vengeance, as thou didst think to? Didst hear those voices? Then I tell thee, Sancho, that ten-score count, that Rufe doubtless made in fear and trembling, but sufficed to raise his hopes. For ere he had gained the sloop and started her anchor, Pascherette had done her work. The stranger’s schooner is full of my men, waiting for Rufe to come for his booty. Let him take alarm, then how far may he win? Thou’lt never know, false Sancho, for I have no doubt of thy treachery. Now drink, if thou darest!”

“Then, by the fiend, I dare!” shouted the pirate. Something in the tang of the gale sweeping in from the unseen