Before going he said he would, as a slight favor, to ask of one of his captors. And then pulling a plain gold ring off his finger, he said: "It is only to convey this to the daughter of Carl Rosenthrall, if he can find means of doing so, without exposing himself to danger. I can hardly wish her to be made acquainted with my fate." When he had finished, Captain Flint stepped up saying that he would undertake to perform the office, and taking the ring he placed it upon his own finger. By this time it was dark. With a firm tread Billings stepped upon the plank, and the next moment was floundering in the sea. The next thing for the pirates to do was to scuttle the ship, which they did after helping themselves to so much of the most valuable portion of the cargo as they thought they could safely carry away with them. In about an hour afterwards the ship sank, bearing down with her the bodies of her murdered crew, and burying, as Captain Flint supposed, in the depths of the ocean all evidences of the fearful tragedy which had been enacted upon her deck. The captain now directed his course homeward, and the next day the little vessel was lying in port as if nothing unusual had happened, Captain Flint pretending that he had returned from one of his usual trading voyages along the coast. The intercourse between the new and the old world was not so frequent in those days as now. The voyages, too, were much longer than at present. So that, although a considerable time passed, bringing no tidings of the ill-fated vessel without causing any uneasiness. But when week after week rolled by, and month followed month, and still nothing was heard from her, the friends of those on board began to be anxious about their fate. At length a vessel which had sailed some days later than the missing ship, had reported that nothing had been heard from her. The only hope now was that she might have been obliged by stress of weather to put in to some other port. But after awhile this hope also was abandoned, and all were reluctantly compelled to come to the conclusion that she had foundered at sea, and that all on board had perished. After lying a short time in port, Captain Flint set sail up the river under pretence of going on a trading expedition among the various Indian tribes. But he ascended the river no further than the Highlands, and come to anchor along the mountain familiarly known as Butterhill, but which people of more romantic turn call Mount Tecomthe, in honor of the famous Indian chief of that name. Having secured their vessel close to the shore, the buccaneers now landed, all save one, who was left in charge of the schooner. Each carried with him a bundle or package containing a portion of the most valuable part of the plunder taken from the ship which they had so recently robbed.