"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.