Astounded by the appearance of Crawford, finding themselves apparently surrounded by hidden foes as they huddled there in the ice-hollow, the half-dozen Boston men dared not move. They crowded around Moses Deakin, who was measuring Crawford with his bold, hard gaze. Startled though he was, the fur-pirate was unafraid. “Well?” he demanded truculently. “Who the devil may you be, that you know my name?” Crawford, suiting action to utterance, surveyed him with a slight and whimsical smile. “My dear Deakin,” he responded calmly, “we ought to know you, since we’ve had men posted around your ship since last night! If we bore you any ill will, we might have taken that craft of yours a dozen times over. But to what end? As the redskins say, I’m bringing you a belt of white wampum and a calumet. Agree to a truce, and I’ll go over to your ship with you and have a friendly talk.” “Your name?” growled Deakin, obviously taken all aback. “Crawford.” “Blood and wounds! Not Hal Crawford, the pirate?” cried Deakin, while his men gaped and stared at hearing the name. “So called. Come--is it peace or war? Give your word; I’ll accept it.” Deakin was not the sort to hesitate when trapped. He put out his hand and advanced, giving Crawford a mighty grip. He made answer with apparent heartiness, yet with a ruthless treachery thinly veiled in those domineering eyes of his. “Ay! Come aboard with us; peace it is, cap’n. To the ship, lads, and out o’ this! The flood tide be lifting this accursed ice. Leave the corpse where it is.” Crawford turned and lifted his voice. “Frontin! Take the men back to the ship and signal in all the crew. If I do not return in three hours, come over the ice and hang Moses Deakin.” “Ay, cap’n,” the unseen Frontin made reply. Deakin showed huge yellow teeth through his beard at this threat, then rumbled out a laugh and turned. He set off for the southeast with Crawford beside him, while the men draggled after them and cast frightened glances at the desolate expanse of ice, now cracking and groaning and heaving from the rise of water below. No word was spoken. Since the hour lay close upon noon, Crawford guessed that the Bostonnais and his men were hungry. So far, so good, he reflected. Whether he could carry through the bluff was of no great consequence; he scarcely even thought of the issue. Since he dared not betray his real ignorance by asking any questions, he accompanied Deakin in silence until he made out a tracery of spars lying ahead. Presently he discovered that the fur-pirate lay barely three miles away from the _Northstar_, in under the frowning cliffs of the mainland and close to the great cape itself.