Looking out I saw two sailors coming up the path, leading a youth between them. He was a stranger, young, handsome, with a sunny brown eye, long yellow locks, a frank, open face, and could not have been more than twenty years at most. As he came nearer I saw him glance at me. "What hast thou here?" I asked one of the men. He answered, respectfully enough: "A young gentleman, sir, who was washed ashore last night from the brig that went down. We kept him in the barrack, for he was half drowned, although to-day he is as bright as a cricket, and is the only soul that came ashore alive out of the ship." "Art thou English?" I asked the youth. "Yes," the young fellow replied, looking at me out of his frank eyes. "In whose hands am I?" "Ask those who are better acquainted than myself," I replied. "The Count is in the dining hall, my men." "Come," said one of the sailors, and they led him in to where DeNortier sat. I watched him as they carried him into the hall; his was a fresh, young face, virile and strong, a captive too, like myself, and I naturally felt an interest in his fate. Turning, I passed back into the dining hall, where the Count, silent and moody, still sat. He was questioning the lad when I entered. "What is thy name?" he asked, speaking in English. "Oliver Gates," the boy replied in the same tone, his head held high. "What art thou doing in these strange seas?" the other said. "I was page to my Lord Lamdown," the lad answered brightly; "but I had grown tired of the soft, idle life, and being an orphan, with none of kin in England, I embarked with Captain Jones as a gentleman adventurer for the coast of Cuba to trade with the natives. We had gotten this far and all seemed well, until last night the storm arose, and the ship went down." "Where am I?" continued the boy, as DeNortier sat silent in the great chair, his head bent in thought, as though forgetful of all around him. At this question the pirate stirred, and raised his eyes to the handsome face of the lad. "I could best answer that question by telling thee into whose hands thou hast fallen," he said, with a frown. "I am the Count DeNortier." Oliver started, a look of fear crossed his face. "What!" he cried. "Not DeNortier the pirate?" "The same," answered the adventurer, unmoved by the other's alarm. "I am in need of recruits," he continued. "Thou dost seem a likely strippling, wilt thou come with us? Thou shalt be my right-hand man, with thy pockets full of gold, and sword in hand thou wilt be the envy and admiration of all the maids in London," and he laughed, a grim look of mirth upon his face. But the lad stood determined. "I will not come," he said firmly, "though thou dost slay me. I was raised in the family of, and have served, a nobleman; thinkest thou that I would disgrace my training like this? To roam the seas with a band of cutthroats, and finally to swing 'twixt heaven and earth, a rope around my neck?"