"Can't you make more sail, Peters?" was Pearse's reply.
Venner laughed softly, agreeably; and the next moment Dolores hailed them. She swam swiftly, with effortless ease, slipping through the sea like a sparkling nymph in her native element. But the schooner traveled fast, and, though she lost no ground, she gained but slowly. She hailed again.
"Rupert, my Rupert!" and finished the cry with a rippling laugh. "Art stealing my treasure and leaving me?"
"By Heavens, Pearse, I had forgotten these chests," said Venner uneasily. Pearse regarded him closely, fearing that Dolores's spell was yet powerful. He gripped Venner tightly by the arm, leaned nearer, and said: "Venner, so long as that blood-polluted treasure is on your deck, so long will you be unable to settle your mind. Bid the hands pitch it into the sea, for God's sake!"
A lull in the wind slowed the schooner down, and Dolores gained a fathom. Her fair face was set toward them in a bewitching smile, and she waved a gleaming arm at them. Venner fought with himself in silence for a brief while, then with a shudder stepped to the wheel.
"Get the hands, Peters," he told the sailing-master, "and heave those chests overboard. Quickly! You shall lose nothing by this, but don't delay a moment!"