Following up his threat with deeds, he once more ordered Lumsden below, yet again had the combustibles laid around. But the Englishman stood his torture well: his being was becoming accustomed to the treatment and for a while he never flinched. Then the monsters of iniquity applied a light to the fire, and the red and yellow flames leapt forward and already began to lick the skipper’s body. For a time he endured the grievous pain as the fire burnt into his flesh. With agonising cries and heartrending shouts he begged to be relieved of his tortures—to be cut adrift in a boat and left solitary on the wide open ocean—anything rather than this. Money he had not: already he had given up all that he possessed. And after this slow murder had continued for some time the stubborn dulled intellect of the pirate captain began to work, and seeing that not even fire could call forth more money from a suffering man, he was inclined to believe that the last coin had now been yielded up. Then turning to some of his own crew, he ordered them to throw water on to the flames, and the long-suffering Lumsden, more dead than alive, racked by physical and mental tortures, was released and allowed to regain his freedom. As if to accentuate their own bestial natures the pirates then proceeded to carouse once more and to exult again in their ill-gotten treasures. But even in the most villainous criminal there is always at least one small trait of human nature left, and it is often surprising how this manifests itself when circumstances had seemed to deny its very existence. It was so in the case of this pirate captain. Everything so far had indicated the most unmitigated bully and murderer without one single redeeming feature of any sort whatever. And yet, in spite of all the vain entreaties of Lumsden for mercy, the pirate showed that the last spark of human kindness was not yet quenched. The reader will remember that among the articles which Smith had brought away from the brig was his gold watch. The pirate took this in his hands, examined it, and instead of promptly annexing the same, threw out a strong hint that he would like to retain it. Such moderation from one who had not hesitated to burn a man at the stake was in itself curious. But his inconsistency did not stop at that. Smith remarked that the watch was a gift from his aged mother, whom he now never expected to see again, adding that he would like to be allowed to send it to her by Lumsden, but was afraid that the pirates would take it away from the English captain if it were entrusted to him. It was then that the pirate manifested the extraordinary contradiction which his character possessed. “Your people,” he began, “have a very bad opinion of us, but I will convince you that we are not so bad as we are represented to be; come along with me, and your watch shall go safely home.” And with this he took Smith on board the _Zephyr_ once more, handed the watch into Lumsden’s keeping and gave