was gone away into the night, and presently Barnaby could hear that
the men at the oars had begun rowing again, leaving them lying there,
without a single word being said for a long time.

By and by one of those in Barnaby's boat spoke up. "Where shall you go
now?" he said.

At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back to
himself, and to find his voice again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to the
devil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again--that's where we'll
go!" and therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing until he foamed at
the lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men began
rowing back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oars
into the water.

They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom house; but so
bewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what he
had seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcely
conscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himself
thus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodging
like one drunk or bewildered; for "John Malyoe" was the name of
the captain of the Adventure galley--he who had shot Barnaby's own
grandfather--and "Abraham Dawling" was the name of the gunner of the
Royal Sovereign who had been shot at the same time with the pirate
captain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staring
sun by the murderers.

The whole business had occupied hardly two hours, but it was as though
that time was no part of Barnaby's life, but all a part of some other
life, so dark and strange and mysterious that it in no wise belonged to