"The eyes which might be most dangerous to us were they wide open, are just those I would have shut," muttered the Rostocker. "Greater service could none do the Hanse in these kingdoms and lands,--but silence! What is that? I heard something move under us. The captives are surely not loose?" "The captives! Death and misfortune!" exclaimed Henrik. "Have they cast them into the hold? Then perhaps they now know more than any living soul must carry farther." "It matters not, Master colleague," said the Rostocker with a scornful laugh, "they shall not carry it farther, however, than to the yard-arm! Now doth the sun rise red as pure gold--that sight they shall see for the last time. Ho! steersman!" he shouted, "how far are we?" "If a breeze springs up, we shall reach Kallebo ere it rings to mass in Copenhagen, Master!" answered a hoarse voice at the helm. "That's well! Then we will keep mattins and ship's law on our own ground, ere the Bishop takes Lubeck law out of our hands. Up! all hands! Ring the great bell!" The sound of a brass bell instantly assembled all the seamen upon deck. "Bring the prisoners up here, boatswain!" continued the captain of the vessel. "Sing out, fellows! Shout forth the poor sinners' vigil. Let the Danish scoundrels hear we are good Christians! and let their houndish souls go to hell amid song and clang!" While the ship's crew with a fearful bellowing chaunted a sort of hymn on the departure of sinners from the world, and two sturdy fellows in tarry jackets coolly fastened two ropes to the yard-arm, the hatches of the ship's hold were opened and the boatswain went below with two armed men. Cries and tumult were heard in the hold; all became instantly quiet again, but neither the boatswain nor the two men returned. "What is this?" exclaimed Berner Kopmand in dismay. "What is become of them? Those Danish hell-hounds must be loose! Down after them fellows! Bring them up here dead or alive! Hence! below! or ye shall be scourged at the mast!" The whole ship's crew were in commotion; they flocked to the hatchway, but none seemed to like to go below, despite the threats of the stern captain. "The first who sets foot here below dies!" said Sir Helmer's voice from the hold. "Ere, I and my comrade will let our necks be twisted by your grocer hands, by St. Michael and his flaming sword! ye shall all of ye go with us to the bottom of the sea--Any moment I please every soul of us shall perish. We have bored a ground-leak--we loosen ye a plank with a single pull." "That devil of a fellow!" cried the Rostocker, growing deadly pale, "he hath us all in his power. What are we to do?"