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" He took his foot from the bar. "When
you've had enough of this, send me word, and we'll have the
branding-irons to you."
On that he swung on his heel, and strode out of the stockade, his
negroes following.
Pitt had heard him, as we hear things in our dreams. At the moment
so spent was he by his cruel punishment, and so deep was the despair
into which he had fallen, that he no longer cared whether he lived
or died.
Soon, however, from the partial stupor which pain had mercifully
induced, a new variety of pain aroused him. The stocks stood in the
open under the full glare of the tropical sun, and its blistering
rays streamed down upon that mangled, bleeding back until he felt
as if flames of fire were searing it. And, soon, to this was added
a torment still more unspeakable. Flies, the cruel flies of the
Antilles, drawn by the scent of blood, descended in a cloud upon him.
Small wonder that the ingenious Colonel Bishop, who so well
understood the art of loosening stubborn tongues, had not deemed it
necessary to have recourse to other means of torture.


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