"In that connection no apology is needed nor will be offered," returned the other. "Had you escaped, the onus of the achievement must have fallen upon my shoulders. I had possibly been cashiered." "Since we are on it, Captain Cottrell," said Stark, "may I, as a sportsman and in good faith, inquire how you discovered our enterprise and knew so punctually both when and where we should endeavour to depart?" "What! the informer's name? Surely you know that informers are sacred in this world, whatever may be their fate in the next?" "This much at least I beg you to tell us, if you hold it square with duty. Was it from within or from without that we were struck? We may desire to try again, and it is well to know friend from foe." Captain Cottrell laughed at the bold question. He reflected a moment, then made reply. "You've preached me a sermon on honour, and I'll pay for it with a word of advice. A man's worst foes shall be they of his own household. There's a seed to sow in your heart, Mr. Stark! But since you will have it, then take it. At least I trust that it may serve to break up a little family party of Seven which I hear about. It will be better for all concerned that you respect the prison regulations henceforth. Now, gentlemen, I wish you a very good day." In darkness and indignation they departed before this cynical speech. Stark and Burnham were for disbelieving it utterly; Commodore Miller, more cautious and more experienced, deemed the assertion not one to ignore without serious reflections. "'Tis a patent lie," declared Stark. "I marvel that you cannot see it, sir. He actually dared to declare his object in uttering it. He wishes to separate the Seven and scatter them finally. What more certain way of so doing than by making each distrust the rest?" "We shall only doubt each other, however, if we believe him," said William Burnham. "Yet I will not say offhand that he lied," answered the Commodore. Thus the cloud worked to bitterness from the outset. Four of the Seven, their hearts fouled by racial prejudice, swore that Cuffee was the culprit; while the Commodore supported poor Sam, and Stark staked his own honesty and honour upon the negro's. Acrimonious conversations passed among them, and it seemed that Commandant Cottrell had fully effected his purpose; but then came the awful weather, and certain necessary relaxations called for by its severity, now drew the old friends together again in hope of escape.