With the strength almost of a Samson he wrestled with his cords for a few seconds; but they were new and strong.  He failed to burst them.  In another moment he was overpowered by the six men who guarded him.  True to his principles, he did his utmost to escape.  Strong in the faith that while there is life there is hope, he did not cease to struggle, like a chained giant, until he was placed under the limb of the fatal tree which had been selected, and round which an immense crowd of natives and white settlers had gathered.

During the previous night the Widow Stuart had striven to save the man whom she knew to be honest; for Gascoyne had explained to her all about his being engaged in his service.  But those to whom she appealed, even on her knees, were immovable.  They considered the proof of the man’s guilt quite conclusive, and regarded the widow’s intercession as the mere weakness of a tender-hearted woman.

On the following morning, and again beside the fatal tree itself, the widow plead for the man’s life with all her powers of eloquence; but in vain.  When all hope appeared to have passed away, she could not stand to witness so horrible a murder, she fled to her cottage, and, throwing herself on her bed, burst into an agony of tears and prayer.

But there were some among the European settlers there who, now that things had come to a point, felt ill at ease, and would fain have washed their hands of the whole affair.  Others there were who judged the man from his countenance and his acts, not from circumstances.  These remonstrated even to the last, and advised delay.  But the half-dozen who were set upon the man’s death—­not to gratify a thirst for blood, but to execute due justice on a pirate whom they abhorred—­were influential and violent men.  They silenced all opposition at last, and John Bumpus finally had the noose put round his neck.

“O Susan!  Susan!” cried the poor man, in an agony of intense feeling, “it’s little ye thought your Jo would come to such an end as this when ye last sot eyes on him—­an’ sweet blue eyes they wos, too!”

There was something ludicrous as well as pathetic in this cry.  It did more for him than the most eloquent pleading could have done.  Man in a crowd is an unstable being.  At any moment he will veer right round and run in an opposite direction.  The idea that the condemned man had a Susan who would mourn over his untimely end touched a chord in the hearts of many among the crowd.  The reference to her sweet blue eyes at such a moment raised a smile, and an extremely dismal but opportune howl from poor Toozle raised a laugh.

Bumpus started and looked sternly on the crowd.