Old Pedro, who had managed successfully to trim his sails, now ran up, exclaiming: ’Thank God! thank God! Señora, the pirates are running off as if a thousand devils were at their heels. They say the Marquis is on board the man-of-war, but I know not; anyhow, let’s secure our own gates. Ah! poor Andreas had better have told all he knew; I did, and managed to keep a whole skin.’ ’Then, Pedro, take a boat and go and tell the Captain that he must come and take us away, and that I know where Señor Carlo and the English lad are hidden. Andreas, look up; tell me, are you in pain?’ But before Catalina or any one else could come, Andreas smiled happily, tried to speak; then, with a gentle sigh, he died. He had understood that those he had died for were saved, and that reward was enough for him. Before long St. Catherine was rid of the pirates, for the man-of-war had brought with it, not Don Estevan del Campo, but the new Governor of Jamaica, who came to dispossess the former Governor who had abetted the pirates; for King Charles of England was now sending strict orders that no buccaneer was to be allowed to set forth from Jamaica to commit any hostility upon the Spanish nation or any of the people of these islands, and on his way to Jamaica the new Governor wished to sweep clean of its pirates the little island of St. Catherine. CHAPTER XXI. A BAG OF GOLD. The Pitsea Manor Farm was a dull place enough now, even though the beautiful sunshine made Nature look at her best on this September afternoon; but Mr. Fenn and his wife seemed to have no longer any heart left for joy, and they had settled that there was to be no harvest-home on the farm, for ever since the disappearance of their son the worthy couple could do nothing but mourn. They had indeed gone through terrible sorrow, and their only comfort had been the long talks Mr. Aylett had had with them, and his firm belief that Harry had not run away, as the lad said he had once thought of doing, but that he had in truth been kidnapped. Mr. Aylett, being the brother of a rich squire, had powerful friends, and he had done all in his power to find out news of Harry; but in those days news travelled but slowly; and though much was guessed, the truth had never been exactly ascertained. At this moment Mr. Aylett was seen by the worthy Fenns to be walking towards the farm, and very soon he was sitting by the sad-looking yeoman in the great farm-hall, beginning as usual to talk of Harry. ’I’ve told the men I’ll have naught to do with a harvest-home,’ said Mr. Fenn, decidedly. ’I’ll give them money for the feast, and they may go and dance their round reels on the green; but, now my poor boy is dead, I care not for sounds of music, and joy does but make me dizzy.’