Her capture having been effected, the barque lay hove-to under her spanker for the night.

The south-east wind died away about midnight, and a light south-westerly breeze sprang up. A strong ocean current must have been setting from the same direction; for, though the islet of Trinidad had been so far distant at sunset as to be barely visible, the sound of breakers roaring on a beach could be plainly distinguished towards the end of the middle watch.

At daybreak Carew was left alone in charge of the vessel, his three men being asleep under the awning. He paced the deck restlessly, his heart aching with despairing misery.

The five prisoners, who were lashed along the foot of the port bulwarks, as if by one consent, observed a complete silence. They were too far apart to hold any communication with each other, and they knew how useless it would be to appeal to the mercy of the villains who had surprised them; but they all remained awake, watching intently for what they felt was not at all likely to occur—an opportunity to regain their freedom and fight for their lives.

The rain had ceased, the clouds had cleared away, and out of the calm night gleamed the brilliant constellations of the southern hemisphere. There was a transparency, a depth in the heavens, such as is not apparent in northern latitudes. Through the nearer archipelagos of stars one could perceive others farther back, and beyond these others; stars behind stars up inconceivable distances into the depths of space; so that they were so crowded together as to almost unite in forming one continuous sheet of silver light, save in one spot, where, amid that most luminous portion of the firmament known as Magellan's Cloud, there opened out, like to a black pit, a starless void, an infinite abyss of nothingness.

There came a faint emerald light in the east, which quickly changed to the pale blue of the turquoise, and the stars faded away before the rapid dawn of the tropics.

Then Carew saw, about ten miles off, standing out darkly between him and the sunrise, in sharp outline against the clear sky, the desert island of Trinidad.

It seemed to consist of a confused mass of barren mountains, most fantastic in their shape, falling everywhere precipitously into the ocean, and terminating in huge pinnacles of rock, the loftiest of which were crowned with wreaths of vapour. Elsewhere there were no clouds visible in the heavens. As the sun rose higher, its rays illumined these rugged summits, and they glowed as with the dull red of molten iron; for this island is a burnt-out volcano, and a considerable portion of it has been calcined into brittle cinders of a ruddy colour.

It being now broad daylight, Baptiste woke up, and coming from under the awning gave himself a shake by way of making his toilet, glanced down the row of prisoners to satisfy himself that they were still safely secured, and then turned his face towards the dreary coast.

"Hallo!" he cried, "we have drifted a long way in the night. That is an ugly-looking place yonder, captain. We must not get too near those black rocks; so we had better wake up those sleepers, and get some canvas on the barque at once. I suppose the next thing to be done is to make sail for the nearest Brazilian port."

"No, Baptiste, not yet," said Carew; "I shall come to an anchor under that island, and wait there for a few days."

"Indeed! What for?"

"I have various reasons. To begin with, look at the sky. There is every appearance of another long calm setting in. Remember that we have yellow fever on board. If we land our prisoners to-day, we shall lessen our own risks of catching it."

Baptiste whistled softly to himself.

Carew stood before him, and looking steadily into his face, said, "Baptiste, I have determined that no more blood shall be shed on this vessel. I intend to put these Frenchmen ashore; then we will sail for Brazil."

"Captain, we do not mind humouring your whims to a certain extent, but we are not going to put our necks in the noose to please you."

"It is quite useless for you to attempt to dissuade me from my purpose. I have made up my mind," said Carew doggedly.

Baptiste at once abandoned his threatening tone, and spoke in a respectful manner. "You have been very lucky so far; but don't be rash. Remember that luck assists him who assists himself. Consider how recklessly imprudent it would be to leave these men on the island. They would soon signal to a passing vessel, and be taken off; and pray, what then would our poor heads be worth?"

"Vessels constantly sight Trinidad," replied Carew, "but they never pass very near it. For the other side of the island is fringed with dangerous rocks far out to sea, as the chart will show you; and, since the prevailing wind hereabouts is south-east, a ship would give this side also a wide berth, for fear of being becalmed under the lee of the mountains. How could the men signal to a vessel miles out at sea?"

"Necessity finds a How. What is to prevent them from lighting a large fire?"

"We will not leave them the means of lighting a fire."

"They would soon discover the means. Suppose, for instance, they picked up some empty bottle that had been washed on shore, they could use the bottom of it as a burning-glass. I have heard of such a thing being done."

"I will not argue the question with you. Those men shall be landed on that island; they shall not die on board this vessel."

"Even if I agreed to run so great a risk, I know that the other two would not. You do not want a civil war on board, do you, captain?"

"I do not fear one. You cannot do without me, and you all know it. If you murdered me and took this vessel into port, do you imagine that the salvage would be handed over to you without demur, as it would be to me if I applied for it? Grave suspicions would be raised, and there would be a minute investigation. Those two idiots would contradict each other in their evidence. It would all end in one of you turning Queen's evidence and the other two being hanged. Is not that right?"

"I cannot deny that there is reason in your remarks," said Baptiste coolly. "Now am I to understand that you wish these men to live?"

"I repeat that they shall not die on board this vessel!"

Baptiste's keen eyes scanned Carew's careworn face; then the ProvenÇal smiled, for he fancied that he now understood the working of the Englishman's mind. "This clever idiot must be humoured," he said to himself. "This is a new 'fixed idea' of his. He shrinks from bloodshed; he will not sanction it. But if we take these men on shore for him, knock them on the head there without consulting him, and then return to him with some fine excuse about their having resisted us and so compelled us to kill them in self-defence—why, he will pretend to believe us; he will ask no questions, and be glad that the danger has been removed. I understand this strange man now."

Not exactly these ideas, but others somewhat similar to them, had indeed crossed Carew's mind. He was quite aware that it would be the height of folly to leave the prisoners alive on the island, but he wished to postpone as long as possible the murder which he felt was inevitable, hoping that yellow fever or some other interposition of Providence would solve the difficulty for him in the meanwhile.

Baptiste now roused the two Spaniards, and sail was made as quickly as possible, so that an anchorage might be reached before the wind dropped, for there were sure signs of calm in the sky.

Being so few in number, they dared not put much sail on the vessel. As Carew was unacquainted with the management of square-rigged craft, Baptiste gave the orders. First the foretopmast staysail was set and the sheets hauled aft so as to pay off before the wind. Then the two Spaniards were sent aloft to loose the fore upper and lower topsails, while Carew and Baptiste squared the yards. After this the maintopsail was also set.

"That will be enough canvas for her," said Baptiste. "Now, sir, if you'll take the wheel, we will get her all ready for coming to an anchor."

So going forward the mate saw that an anchor was got over the bows and that a sufficient length of cable was ranged in front of the windlass.

The vessel sailed slowly towards the island until midday, when the expected calm fell upon the sea. However, as the current was setting straight on shore, the barque drifted on till four o'clock in the afternoon, when she was about half a mile from the breakers, and the anchor was let go in twenty fathoms of water.

The scene that lay before them as they approached was appalling in its grandeur. They could perceive no vegetation of any description on the lofty mountains, which rose almost perpendicularly from the sea-foam into a bank of dark clouds that had now gathered on the summit of the island. The fire-consumed crags were often of strange metallic colours,—red and green and coppery yellow,—which gave the scenery an unearthly appearance, but most of the island was of a dismal coal-black.

Some of the mountains seemed to have been shaken to pieces by the fires and earthquakes of volcanic action; for they sloped to the sea in huge landslips of black stones. Gigantic basaltic columns many hundreds of feet in height descended into the waves along a considerable portion of this savage coast, a formidable wall that defied the mariner to land. In a few places only a narrow margin of shore divided the sea from the inaccessible cliffs, and this was encumbered with sharp coral and great boulders that had fallen from above.

The barque was anchored off the entrance of a profound and most gloomy ravine, from which a stream of water fell as a cascade into the sea. The head of this ravine, high above, was lost in dense clouds. It looked like the road to some mysterious and unknown world.

Not only were the sights of this coast such as to terrify the imagination, but so likewise were the sounds. Though this was the lee side of the island, and was protected from the high swell which, raised by the south-east trade wind, breaks so furiously on the back of Trinidad, yet the sea rolled in very heavily with a stupendous roar that was echoed with dismal, hollow reverberations among the rocky ravines. After the breaking of a higher wave than usual, great masses of water would be dashed up the sides of a cliff to a great height. Deep fiords opened out in places; but even these afforded no shelter. Within them the sea raged as furiously as it did outside.

This remote and rarely visited island was evidently a favourite breeding-place for several varieties of sea-birds. Vast numbers flew through the rigging of the vessel, uttering savage cries. So unaccustomed were they to the sight of man that they showed no timidity, but rather indignation, at his invasion, and a disposition to drive him off again. Many of them wheeled round the heads of the sailors with angry shrieks, approaching so near that they could easily have been caught with the hand.

"I don't at all like the look of the island of Trinidad," said Baptiste. "It is the most inhospitable place I have ever seen. I am not surprised that no one cares to live here. How large is it?"

"It is about fifteen miles round," Carew replied. "The Portuguese tried centuries ago to establish a settlement here, but they soon abandoned it. It is very barren, and so dangerous a surge breaks continually round every part of it that it is often impossible to effect a landing for weeks at a time."

"It seems to me that it will be impossible to land to-day," said Baptiste.

Carew went up into the maintop with a telescope, and after having closely examined the features of the shore, descended on deck again. "I thought I was right, Baptiste. We are anchored off what the pilot-book calls The Cascade, and I can see the landing-place described by former visitors to the island."

"I can see nothing but a mass of foam. I can see nothing like a landing-place."

"It is not visible from the deck. To the left of the cascade over there a long black rock stretches far out to sea beyond the breakers, forming a sort of natural pier. That is the easiest landing-place in the whole island. We will lower a boat at once, and put the prisoners on shore."

Baptiste again looked keenly into Carew's face as he put the question. "Do you wish us to release them when we have landed them, and allow them to run wild over those picturesque crags like a lot of goats—or what do you wish?"

"Let them have food before you take them off; and leave them, bound as they are now, on the beach for this night. To-morrow I will decide what is to be done with them."

"It is always to-morrow with you, captain; but it matters not. We are becalmed, and are, therefore, not wasting time by this ridiculous trifling. It is a pity that there are no wild beasts on these desert islands who would kindly eat up these men for us in the night. They are becoming a nuisance."

The Spaniards grumbled a good deal when they heard that they were to take the prisoners alive on shore; but they did not dare to disobey Carew.

The two sick men, who were now recovering from the fever, were brought on deck, and they, together with the other prisoners, were lowered into one of the boats. All were still so securely bound that they could not move a limb.

Carew stayed on board the barque while his three men pulled off to the island.

They reached the projecting rock, and found that its sides were perpendicular, so that the boat could be brought alongside. The prisoners were not landed without considerable difficulty, and even danger, for they had to be dragged quickly on shore at the moment when the boat rising to a wave had her gunwale on a level with the summit of this natural jetty, before she dropped down again into the trough between the seas.

At last the disembarkation was safely effected, and the painter having been made fast to a large stone, the boat was left to tumble about against the rough side of the jetty, in imminent danger of staving herself in, while the prisoners were carried one by one up the rugged shore.

Then they laid the helpless men down. Even the brutal Spaniards, when they looked around them, were impressed by the weirdness of the scene. Whenever the sides of the ravine or of the mountains were not too steep they were densely covered with trees, which had not been visible from the vessel's deck. Now every one of these trees was dead; there was not a live one among them. They were of all sizes. Some stood erect as they had grown, some lay prone on the rocks; but all had been dead for long ages. On all the skeleton branches of this forest of desolation were sitting large sea-birds of foul appearance, who raised discordant cries, as if to repel the intruders, and did not take to flight, but fought savagely with any of the men who came near to them. There was no live vegetation to be seen, with the exception of certain snake-like creepers, which clung to the surface of the ground, and which bore large seed-pods of vivid green—sinister and poisonous-looking plants, that seemed well suited to this forlorn region. It was a scene appalling to the imagination, and the whole of Trinidad is of a like gloomy character. The same dead trees cover it throughout. It seems probable that at some remote period a terrific volcanic eruption destroyed every living thing on the island with its showers of poisonous ash; and where once rose from the tropical ocean a fair land, green with pleasant woods, is now a hideous wreck, more sterile than the desert itself.

"It might be the gate of hell," said El Toro in an awed voice, looking up the ravine.

"Now, comrades," cried Baptiste, "there is no time to lose. I don't like to leave the boat long where she is. As our merciful skipper objects to bloodshed, we must lash our prisoners to these trees."

"What are you going to do with us—kill us?" asked one of the captives gruffly.

"No; we are going to leave you here, tied up," replied Baptiste.

"What! to starve to death?"

"Indeed I don't know," said Baptiste, with a shrug of his shoulders. "This is not my doing. Our captain is a cruel man. It seems that it amuses him to play with you poor fellows as a cat does with a mouse. This is his scheme, my children, not mine. I am merciful."

The men were now secured to the dead trees, and the three villains were moving off to their boat when one of the Frenchmen—the only one who did not meet his fate with fortitude, and who showed signs of the most abject terror—screamed out—

"Oh, Monsieur Baptiste, let me go—let me go! I will join you. I will not betray you. I will help you work the ship. I will be your slave if you spare me!"

His comrades reviled him for his cowardice, but he still continued his piteous entreaties.

Baptiste turned round and gazed with a sardonic smile into the man's white, fear-distorted face. He felt that this was very much the way he would behave himself in similar circumstances, but he did not spare his own faults in others; few men do.

"So you would join us, would you? But how do I know if I can trust you, my friend? You may betray us when we get into port. Will you give me a proof of your fidelity?"

"I will give you any proof you wish," cried the wretched man, writhing in his bonds, but quite unable to move.

"Now, if I see you commit a far greater crime than any that I and my crew have committed, I shall know that you dare not tell tales. If I release you and give you a knife, will you kill all your comrades for me?"

The man burst into hysterical tears. "Yes!" he shrieked—"yes! Anything for my life."

Baptiste laughed contemptuously.

"Miserable man! Your answer is sufficient for me. We do not want such cowardly traitors among our crew. You shall stay here and die by the side of your braver comrades."

Baptiste and the two Spaniards then hurried off to the boat, for the sun was just setting. They pulled off to the barque, and the mate reported to the captain what he had done.

About an hour after their return—the night having settled down upon the ocean—Carew was sitting by himself on the quarter-deck. The hollow roar of the waves upon the beach sounded louder than in the daytime, and the vessel rolled in the swell caused by the recoil of the distant rollers.

All manner of strange and frightful noises came from the direction of the mysterious island. It seemed to Carew that he heard groans and wails echoing among the ravines, but he put this down to his imagination—to the now greatly unstrung condition of his nerves.

Suddenly he started to his feet, his heart beating violently. What was that he heard? Surely that last dreadful cry did not exist only in his fancy.

"Baptiste, come here!" he called out.

The mate sauntered up.

"Listen!" whispered Carew; "do you hear nothing?"

"Nothing but the noise of the breakers."

Once more arose that awful cry. It was as a shriek of unutterable despair and agony; faint, but easily to be distinguished when the lull came between one roller and another.

"What is it?"

Baptiste himself turned white at the sound. "I know not; it makes one's blood run cold. See, they too have heard it."

The Spaniards came up.

"Oh, sir!" cried El Toro, his voice indistinct with terror, "let us make sail at once and leave behind us this horrible place. Hark! that cry again! It is as the shrieks of the doomed in hell. That island is the abode of evil spirits who are mocking us."

"We cannot set sail in a flat calm. We must wait," said Carew, in a low voice.

They stood on the deck and listened in silence. For half an hour or more those appalling cries continued; then they died away, and nothing was heard but the roaring of the ocean upon an iron-bound coast.