Continual error and confusion arose from the various aliases assumed by the more notorious members of the gang, while the differences in the calendar between old and new style added to the difficulties that beset the ministers of justice. Nothing of the kind is more curious than the interminable questions put by the patient counsel, repeated in each new trial month after month with untiring perseverance, and which most frequently elicited the same answers. But at times the monotony was relieved by overwhelming proofs by the evidence of some of the culprits themselves, or of others who seemed to grow tired of the suspense of a trial, and convicted themselves to put an end to it. It was by a very narrow opening that night first entered, but day by day it grew larger. Confession followed confession. One appeared to stimulate the other, and they seemed to pride themselves as to who should outvie the other in recitals of the atrocities they had committed. Much exaggeration was, it is true, mixed up with these communications, and it was only by close comparison and sifting, that the truth could be elicited regarding the atrocious doings of Captain Jack and his famous Baker’s Dozen. But there they were in prison, through the instrumentality and industry of Wildfire Ned and Lieutenant Garnet. What became of most of them we shall quickly see. CHAPTER XLV. COLONEL BLOOD MEETS WITH DISAPPOINTMENT. But, although Wildfire Ned, as narrated in a previous chapter, made a vow never to rest until he had captured or destroyed all who belonged to Captain Jack’s band and the Skeleton Crew, he did not succeed so well with Death-wing’s followers as he could have wished. During the night of the terrible commotion and desperate encounter at the Block-House, that part of the town was thrown into a fearful state of commotion. Excited citizens rushed to and fro in all directions. Colonel Blood, himself, was one of the first who was informed of the whole transaction. For the second time that night he pushed off to the royal palace, and asked for the assistance of the military. Two companies were entrusted to him, and he marched to the scene of conflict as speedily as possible. When he got there, however, the Block-House was nought but a blazing mass of ruins. When informed that it contained most, if not all, of the property and valuables which had been stolen from his own house, he fumed and raved like one half demented. But what else could be done? He stood gazing at the fiery element feeding on his own property, and gnashed his teeth in rage. “Who led on the citizens to the attack?” he asked. “Ned Warbeck, ‘Wildfire Ned,’ as he is called,” the simple citizens replied. “What, Sir Richard Warbeck’s nephew, as he is called?” “Yes, Colonel.” “I have heard of him before. He bares no love towards the Skeleton Crew or Captain Jack’s followers, I hear.”