For a few moments Humphrey did not realise the import of his question, till he turned and gazed down once more upon the stern, handsome face fixing rigidly in death. "No," he said quickly, as he drew a handkerchief from his breast and softly spread it over the face of the dead. "It is our secret--ours alone." "Hah!" sighed Bart, and he drew back for a moment, and then gave Humphrey an imploring look before advancing once more, going down upon his knee, and taking and kissing the cold hand lying across the motionless breast. "Captain Humphrey Armstrong, I think!" said the officer of the rescue party. "Yes," said Humphrey, in a dreamy way. "We were just in time, it seems." "Yes," said Humphrey, with a dazed look. "I'm glad you are safe, sir; and this is--" He had not finished his sentence when one of Black Mazzard's men yelled out-- "The Commodore--our captain--sir!" "Once," said Humphrey, roused by the ruffian's words, and gazing sharply round; "but one who spared my life, sir, and with this poor fellow here defended me from that dead scoundrel and his gang!" As he spoke he spurned the body of Black Mazzard, who had hardly stirred since he received Bart's bullet. "I am at your service, Captain Armstrong," said the officer, "and will take my instructions from you." "For the wretches taken in arms, sir, I have nothing to say; but for this poor wounded fellow I ask proper help and protection. I will be answerable for him." Bart looked at him quickly and reeled slightly as he limped to his side. "Thank ye, captain," he said. "I ought to hate you, but she loved you, and that's enough for me. If I don't see you again, sir--God bless you and good-bye!" "But we shall see each other again, Bart, and I hope--here, quick!" he cried, "help here; the poor fellow is fainting from loss of blood!" Bart was borne off to be tended by the surgeon, and Humphrey Armstrong stood gazing down at the motionless form at his feet. He did not speak for some minutes, and all around respected his sorrow by standing aloof; but he turned at last to the officer-- "I ask honourable burial, sir, for the dead--dead to save my life." The officer bowed gravely, and then turned away to give a few short, sharp orders to his men, who signed to their prisoners. These were rapidly marched down to the boats, two and two, till it came to the turn of Dinny, who stood with Mrs Greenheys clinging to him, trembling with dread. "Now, my fine fellow," said the warrant officer who had the prisoners in charge; "this way." "Sure, and ye'll let me have a wurrud wid the captain first?" "No nonsense. Come along!" "Sure, an' he'd like to shpake to me wan wurrud," said Dinny. "Wouldn't ye, sor!" Humphrey, who was standing with his arms folded, wrapped in thought, looked up sharply on hearing the familiar tones of the Irishman's voice. "There, what did I tell ye, sor?" he cried. "Sure, an' I'm not a buccaneer by trade--only a prishner."