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It was what is termed double-banked, and the oars were pulled by "slaves," that is to say, the crews of trading vessels recently captured. Pungarin had more slaves than he knew what to do with on that occasion. He had been unusually successful in his captures.
He knew that his own end drew near. "This gentleman," he said, slowly, "is a wealthy British merchant well-known and respected in England. He has rich friends. It may be worth your while to spare him." "And this," added the pirate captain, pointing to Aileen. "Is his only child," answered the other. "Your name?" asked Pungarin. "Charles Hazlit," said the hapless merchant.
While endeavouring to free himself, Pungarin had struggled on his knees. He now raised himself as high as possible on his knees. His hands, although tied in front of him, could be raised to his head. He quickly made a loop on the rope and passed it over his head. Just then the guard removed the hatchway, and descended to make the last inspection for the night.
The Malay rover was clad in a thin loose red jacket, a short petticoat or kilt, and yellow trousers. A red fez, with a kerchief wound round it turban fashion, covered his head. He was a well-made stalwart man, with a handsome but fierce-looking countenance. From beneath the loose jacket Pungarin drew forth a small, richly chased, metal casket.
On the present occasion, however, Pungarin had received intelligence which induced him to modify his plans. Hearing that a gun-boat was in pursuit of him, he determined to change his rendezvous for the time. The weary slaves were therefore again set to work at the oars; but "kind Nature" took pity on them.
This man, for reasons best known to himself, had a bitter hatred of Pungarin, and was the chief cause of the boat in which he pulled an oar being kept in close pursuit of the pirate-chief. "Dis way," he cried, when the general melee was drawing to a close. "Yonder is de red-coat. He make for de shore."
The tending of the wounded, the cleansing of the ship, the feeding of survivors, the shutting up and arranging for the night, had passed away even the groaning of sufferers had dwindled down to its lowest ebb long before Pungarin moved with the intent to carry out his purpose.
There is no limit to the flight of a sea-rover, save the sea-shore." "True, true," returned the Jew, with a nod of intelligence; "but here is my place of business. Enter my humble abode, and pray be seated." Pungarin stooped to pass the low doorway, and seated himself beside a small deal table which, although destitute of a cloth, was thickly covered with ink-stains.
"You are the captain of this schooner?" asked Pungarin. "Yes," replied the prisoner, firmly. "Have you treasure on board?" "No." "We shall soon find out the truth as to that. Meanwhile, who is this?" The captain was silent and thoughtful for a few moments. He was well aware of the nature of the men with whom he had to do. He had seen his crew murdered in cold blood.
"Nay, nay, you are altogether too hard," returned the Jew, with a deprecating smile; "but come to my little office. We shall have more privacy there. How comes it, Pungarin, that you are so far from your own waters? It is a longish way from Ceylon to Borneo." "How comes it," replied the Malay, "that the sea-mew flies far from home?
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