"The king--did this?" said Humphrey, wonderingly, as he gazed full in the speaker's face, struggling the while to grasp the clues of something misty in his mind--a something which he felt he ought to know, and which escaped him all the while. "The king! Well, no; but his people whom he entrusts with the care of his laws." "Stop!" cried Humphrey, raising himself upon one arm and gazing eagerly in the buccaneer's face; "a sister's honour--defended--punished--sent away for that! No; it is impossible! Yes--ah! I know you now! Abel Dell!" The buccaneer shrank back, gazing at him wildly. "That is what always seemed struggling in my brain," cried Humphrey, excitedly. "Of course, I know you now. And you were sent over here--a convict, and escaped." The buccaneer hesitated for a few moments, with the deep colour going and coming in his face. "Yes," he said, at last. "Abel Dell escaped from the dreary plantation where he laboured." "And his sister!" "You remember her story!" "Remember! Yes," cried Humphrey. "She disappeared from near Dartmouth years ago." "Yes." "What became of her--poor girl?" said Humphrey, earnestly; and the buccaneer's cheeks coloured as the words of pity fell. "She joined her brother out here." "But he was a convict." "She helped him to escape." "I see it all," cried Humphrey, eagerly; "and he became the pirate--and you became the pirate--the buccaneer, Commodore Junk." "Yes." "Good heavens!" ejaculated Humphrey. "And the sister--your sister, man the handsome, dark girl whom my cousin--Oh, hang cousin James! What a scoundrel he could be!" It was the sturdy, outspoken exclamation of an honest English gentleman, and as the buccaneer heard it, Humphrey felt his hand seized in a firm grip, to be held for a few moments and then dropped. "But he's dead," continued Humphrey. "Let him rest. But tell me--the sister--Oh!" A long look of apology and pity followed the ejaculation, as Humphrey recalled the scene in the temple, where the long coffin lay draped with the Union Jack--the anguish of the figure on its knees, and the passionate words of adjuration and prayer. It was as if a veil which hid his companion's character from him had been suddenly torn aside, and a look of sympathy beamed from his eyes as he stretched out his hand in a frank, manly fashion. "I beg your pardon," he cried, softly. "I did not know all this. I am sorry I have been so abrupt in what I said." "I have nothing to forgive," said the buccaneer, warmly, and his swarthy cheeks glowed as Humphrey gazed earnestly in his eyes. "And for the sake of brave old Devon and home you spared my life and treated me as you have?" "Not for the sake of brave old Devon," said the buccaneer, gravely, "but for your own. Now, Captain Humphrey Armstrong, can we be friends?"