Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates

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HOWARD PYLE'S BOOK OF PIRATES

Fiction,creative magnetic blocks Fact & Fancy concerning the Buccaneers &
Marooners of theSpanish Main:
From the writing & Pictures of Howard Pyle:

Compiled by Merle Johnson

Contents

FOREWORD

PIRATES, Buccaneers, Marooners, those cruel but picturesque sea wolveswho once infested the Spanish Main, all live in present-day conceptionsin great degree as drawn by the pen and pencil of Howard Pyle.

Pyle, artist-author, living in the latter half of the nineteenthcentury and the first decade of the twentieth, had the fine faculty oftransposing himself into any chosen period of history and makingits people flesh and blood again—not just historical puppets. Hischaracters were sketched with both words and picture; with both wordsand picture he ranks as a master, with a rich personality which makeshis work individual and attractive in either medium.

He was one of the founders of present-day American illustration, and hispupils and grand-pupils pervade that field to-day. While he bore nosuch important part in the world of letters, his stories are modern intreatment, and yet widely read. His range included historical treatisesconcerning his favorite Pirates (Quaker though he was); fiction, withthe same Pirates as principals; Americanized version of Old World fairytales; boy stories of the Middle Ages, still best sellers to growinglads; stories of the occult, such as In Tenebras and To the Soil of theEarth, which, if newly published, would be hailed as contributions toour latest cult.

In all these fields Pyle's work may be equaled, surpassed, save in one.It is improbable that anyone else will ever bring his combination ofinterest and talent to the depiction of these old-time Pirates, any morethan there could be a second Remington to paint the now extinct Indiansand gun-fighters of the Great West.

Important and interesting to the student of history, theadventure-lover, and the artist, as they are, these Pirate stories andpictures have been scattered through many magazines and books. Here, inthis volume, they are gathered together for the first time, perhapsnot just as Mr. Pyle would have done, but with a completeness andappreciation of the real value of the material which the author'smodesty might not have permitted. MERLE JOHNSON.

PREFACE

WHY is it that a little spice of deviltry lends not an unpleasantlytitillating twang to the great mass of respectable flour that goes tomake up the pudding of our modern civilization? And pertinent to thisquestion another—Why is it that the pirate has, and always has had,a certain lurid glamour of the heroical enveloping him round about? Isthere, deep under the accumulated debris of culture, a hidden groundworkof the old-time savage? Is there even in these well-regulated times anunsubdued nature in the respectable mental household of every one of usthat still kicks against the pricks of law and order? To make my meaningmore clear, would not every boy, for instance—that is, every boy of anyaccount—rather be a pirate captain than a Member of Parliament? Andwe ourselves—would we not rather read such a story as that of CaptainAvery's capture of the East Indian treasure ship, with its beautifulprincess and load of jewels (which gems he sold by the handful, historysayeth, to a Bristol merchant), than, say, one of Bishop Atterbury'ssermons, or the goodly Master Robert Boyle's religious romance of"Theodora and Didymus"? It is to be apprehended that to the unregeneratenature of most of us there can be but one answer to such a query.

In the pleasurable warmth the heart feels in answer to tales ofderring-do Nelson's battles are all mightily interesting, but, even inspite of their romance of splendid courage, I fancy that the majority ofus would rather turn back over the leaves of history to read how Drakecaptured the Spanish treasure ship in the South Sea, and of how hedivided such a quantity of booty in the Island of Plate (so namedbecause of the tremendous dividend there declared) that it had to bemeasured in quart bowls, being too considerable to be counted.

Courage and daring, no matter how mad and ungodly, have always aredundancy of vim and life to recommend them to the nether man that lieswithin us, and no doubt his desperate courage, his battle against thetremendous odds of all the civilized world of law and order, have hadmuch to do in making a popular hero of our friend of the black flag. Butit is not altogether courage and daring that endear him to our hearts.There is another and perhaps a greater kinship in that lust for wealththat makes one's fancy revel more pleasantly in the story of thedivision of treasure in the pirate's island retreat, the hiding of hisgodless gains somewhere in the sandy stretch of tropic beach, there toremain hidden until the time should come to rake the doubloons upagain and to spend them like a lord in polite society, than in the mostthrilling tales of his wonderful escapes from commissioned cruisersthrough tortuous channels between the coral reefs.

And what a life of adventure is his, to be sure! A life of constantalertness, constant danger, constant escape! An ocean Ishmaelite, hewanders forever aimlessly, homelessly; now unheard of for months, nowcareening his boat on some lonely uninhabited shore, now appearingsuddenly to swoop down on some merchant vessel with rattle of musketry,shouting, yells, and a hell of unbridled passions let loose to rend andtear. What a Carlislean hero! What a setting of blood and lust and flameand rapine for such a hero!

Piracy, such as was practiced in the flower of its days—that is, duringthe early eighteenth century—was no sudden growth. It was an evolution,from the semi-lawful buccaneering of the sixteenth century, just asbuccaneering was upon its part, in a certain sense, an evolution fromthe unorganized, unauthorized warfare of the Tudor period.

For there was a deal of piratical smack in the anti-Spanish venturesof Elizabethan days. Many of the adventurers—of the Sir Francis Drakeschool, for instance—actually overstepped again and again the boundsof international law, entering into the realms of de facto piracy.Nevertheless, while their doings were not recognized officially by thegovernment, the perpetrators were neither punished nor reprimanded fortheir excursions against Spanish commerce at home or in the West Indies;rather were they commended, and it was considered not altogether adiscreditable thing for men to get rich upon the spoils taken fromSpanish galleons in times of nominal peace. Many of the most reputablecitizens and merchants of London, when they felt that the queen failedin her duty of pushing the fight against the great Catholic Power,fitted out fleets upon their own account and sent them to levy goodProtestant war of a private nature upon the Pope's anointed.

Some of the treasures captured in such ventures were immense,stupendous, unbelievable. For an example, one can hardly credit thetruth of the "purchase" gained by Drake in the famous capture of theplate ship in the South Sea.

One of the old buccaneer writers of a century later says: "The Spaniardsaffirm to this day that he took at that time twelvescore tons ofplate and sixteen bowls of coined money a man (his number being thenforty-five men in all), insomuch that they were forced to heave much ofit overboard, because his ship could not carry it all."

Maybe this was a very greatly exaggerated statement put by the authorand his Spanish authorities, nevertheless there was enough truth in itto prove very conclusively to the bold minds of the age that tremendousprofits—"purchases" they called them—were to be made from piracy. TheWestern World is filled with the names of daring mariners of those olddays, who came flitting across the great trackless ocean in their littletublike boats of a few hundred tons burden, partly to explore unknownseas, partly—largely, perhaps—in pursuit of Spanish treasure:Frobisher, Davis, Drake, and a score of others.

In this left-handed war against Catholic Spain many of the adventurerswere, no doubt, stirred and incited by a grim, Calvinistic, puritanicalzeal for Protestantism. But equally beyond doubt the gold and silver andplate of the "Scarlet Woman" had much to do with the persistent energywith which these hardy mariners braved the mysterious, unknown terrorsof the great unknown ocean that stretched away to the sunset, there infaraway waters to attack the huge, unwieldy, treasure-laden galleonsthat sailed up and down the Caribbean Sea and through the BahamaChannel.

Of all ghastly and terrible things old-time religious war was the mostghastly and terrible. One can hardly credit nowadays the cold, callouscruelty of those times. Generally death was the least penalty thatcapture entailed. When the Spaniards made prisoners of the English, theInquisition took them in hand, and what that meant all the world knows.When the English captured a Spanish vessel the prisoners were tortured,either for the sake of revenge or to compel them to disclose wheretreasure lay hidden. Cruelty begat cruelty, and it would be hard tosay whether the Anglo-Saxon or the Latin showed himself to be mostproficient in torturing his victim.

When Cobham, for instance, captured the Spanish ship in the Bay ofBiscay, after all resistance was over and the heat of the battle hadcooled, he ordered his crew to bind the captain and all of the crew andevery Spaniard aboard—whether in arms or not—to sew them up in themainsail and to fling them overboard. There were some twenty dead bodiesin the sail when a few days later it was washed up on the shore.

Of course such acts were not likely to go unavenged, and many aninnocent life was sacrificed to pay the debt of Cobham's cruelty.

Nothing could be more piratical than all this. Nevertheless, as wassaid, it was winked at, condoned, if not sanctioned, by the law; and itwas not beneath people of family and respectability to take part in it.But by and by Protestantism and Catholicism began to be at somewhat lessdeadly enmity with each other; religious wars were still far enough frombeing ended, but the scabbard of the sword was no longer flung awaywhen the blade was drawn. And so followed a time of nominal peace, and ageneration arose with whom it was no longer respectable and worthy—onemight say a matter of duty—to fight a country with which one's ownland was not at war. Nevertheless, the seed had been sown; it had beendemonstrated that it was feasible to practice piracy against Spain andnot to suffer therefor. Blood had been shed and cruelty practiced, and,once indulged, no lust seems stronger than that of shedding blood andpracticing cruelty.

Though Spain might be ever so well grounded in peace at home, in theWest Indies she was always at war with the whole world—English, French,Dutch. It was almost a matter of life or death with her to keep her holdupon the New World. At home she was bankrupt and, upon the earthquakeof the Reformation, her power was already beginning to totter and tocrumble to pieces. America was her treasure house, and from it alonecould she hope to keep her leaking purse full of gold and silver. So itwas that she strove strenuously, desperately, to keep out the world fromher American possessions—a bootless task, for the old order upon whichher power rested was broken and crumbled forever. But still she strove,fighting against fate, and so it was that in the tropical America it wasone continual war between her and all the world. Thus it came that,long after piracy ceased to be allowed at home, it continued in thosefar-away seas with unabated vigor, recruiting to its service all thatlawless malign element which gathers together in every newly openedcountry where the only law is lawlessness, where might is right andwhere a living is to be gained with no more trouble than cutting athroat. { signature Howard Pyle His Mark}

HOWARD PILE'S BOOK OF PIRATES

Chapter I. BUCCANEERS AND MAROONERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN

JUST above the northwestern shore of the old island of Hispaniola—theSanto Domingo of our day—and separated from it only by a narrow channelof some five or six miles in width, lies a queer little hunch of anisland, known, because of a distant resemblance to that animal, asthe Tortuga de Mar, or sea turtle. It is not more than twenty miles inlength by perhaps seven or eight in breadth; it is only a little spot ofland, and as you look at it upon the map a pin's head would almost coverit; yet from that spot, as from a center of inflammation, a burning fireof human wickedness and ruthlessness and lust overran the world, andspread terror and death throughout the Spanish West Indies, from St.Augustine to the island of Trinidad, and from Panama to the coasts ofPeru.

About the middle of the seventeenth century certain French adventurersset out from the fortified island of St. Christopher in longboats andhoys, directing their course to the westward, there to discover newislands. Sighting Hispaniola "with abundance of joy," they landed, andwent into the country, where they found great quantities of wild cattle,horses, and swine.

Now vessels on the return voyage to Europe from the West Indies neededrevictualing, and food, especially flesh, was at a premium in theislands of the Spanish Main; wherefore a great profit was to be turnedin preserving beef and pork, and selling the flesh to homeward-boundvessels.

The northwestern shore of Hispaniola, lying as it does at the easternoutlet of the old Bahama Channel, running between the island of Cuba andthe great Bahama Banks, lay almost in the very main stream of travel.The pioneer Frenchmen were not slow to discover the double advantage tobe reaped from the wild cattle that cost them nothing to procure, and amarket for the flesh ready found for them. So down upon Hispaniola theycame by boatloads and shiploads, gathering like a swarm of mosquitoes,and overrunning the whole western end of the island. There theyestablished themselves, spending the time alternately in hunting thewild cattle and buccanning(1) the meat, and squandering their hardlyearned gains in wild debauchery, the opportunities for which were neverlacking in the Spanish West Indies.

(1) Buccanning, by which the "buccaneers" gained their name,     was of process of curing thin strips of meat by salting,     smoking, and drying in the sun.

At first the Spaniards thought nothing of the few travel-worn Frenchmenwho dragged their longboats and hoys up on the beach, and shot a wildbullock or two to keep body and soul together; but when the few grew todozens, and the dozens to scores, and the scores to hundreds, it was avery different matter, and wrathful grumblings and mutterings began tobe heard among the original settlers.

But of this the careless buccaneers thought never a whit, the only thingthat troubled them being the lack of a more convenient shipping pointthan the main island afforded them.

This lack was at last filled by a party of hunters who ventured acrossthe narrow channel that separated the main island from Tortuga. Herethey found exactly what they needed—a good harbor, just at the junctionof the Windward Channel with the old Bahama Channel—a spot wherefour-fifths of the Spanish-Indian trade would pass by their verywharves.

There were a few Spaniards upon the island, but they were a quiet folk,and well disposed to make friends with the strangers; but when moreFrenchmen and still more Frenchmen crossed the narrow channel, untilthey overran the Tortuga and turned it into one great curing house forthe beef which they shot upon the neighboring island, the Spaniards grewrestive over the matter, just as they had done upon the larger island.

Accordingly, one fine day there came half a dozen great boatloadsof armed Spaniards, who landed upon the Turtle's Back and sent theFrenchmen flying to the woods and fastnesses of rocks as the chaff fliesbefore the thunder gust. That night the Spaniards drank themselvesmad and shouted themselves hoarse over their victory, while the beatenFrenchmen sullenly paddled their canoes back to the main island again,and the Sea Turtle was Spanish once more.

But the Spaniards were not contented with such a petty triumph as thatof sweeping the island of Tortuga free from the obnoxious strangers,down upon Hispaniola they came, flushed with their easy victory, anddetermined to root out every Frenchman, until not one single buccaneerremained. For a time they had an easy thing of it, for each Frenchhunter roamed the woods by himself, with no better company than hishalf-wild dogs, so that when two or three Spaniards would meet such aone, he seldom if ever came out of the woods again, for even his restingplace was lost.

But the very success of the Spaniards brought their ruin along with it,for the buccaneers began to combine together for self-protection,and out of that combination arose a strange union of lawless man withlawless man, so near, so close, that it can scarce be compared toany other than that of husband and wife. When two entered upon thiscomradeship, articles were drawn up and signed by both parties, a commonstock was made of all their possessions, and out into the woods theywent to seek their fortunes; thenceforth they were as one man; theylived together by day, they slept together by night; what one suffered,the other suffered; what one gained, the other gained. The onlyseparation that came betwixt them was death, and then the survivorinherited all that the other left. And now it was another thing withSpanish buccaneer hunting, for two buccaneers, reckless of life, quickof eye, and true of aim, were worth any half dozen of Spanish islanders.

By and by, as the French became more strongly organized for mutualself-protection, they assumed the offensive. Then down they came uponTortuga, and now it was the turn of the Spanish to be hunted off theisland like vermin, and the turn of the French to shout their victory.

Having firmly established themselves, a governor was sent to the Frenchof Tortuga, one M. le Passeur, from the island of St. Christopher; theSea Turtle was fortified, and colonists, consisting of men of doubtfulcharacter and women of whose character there could be no doubt whatever,began pouring in upon the island, for it was said that the buccaneersthought no more of a doubloon than of a Lima bean, so that this was theplace for the brothel and the brandy shop to reap their golden harvest,and the island remained French.

Hitherto the Tortugans had been content to gain as much as possible fromthe homeward-bound vessels through the orderly channels of legitimatetrade. It was reserved for Pierre le Grand to introduce piracy as aquicker and more easy road to wealth than the semi-honest exchange theyhad been used to practice.

Gathering together eight-and-twenty other spirits as hardy and recklessas himself, he put boldly out to sea in a boat hardly large enough tohold his crew, and running down the Windward Channel and out into theCaribbean Sea, he lay in wait for such a prize as might be worth therisks of winning.

For a while their luck was steadily against them; their provisions andwater began to fail, and they saw nothing before them but starvationor a humiliating return. In this extremity they sighted a Spanish shipbelonging to a "flota" which had become separated from her consorts.

The boat in which the buccaneers sailed might, perhaps, have served forthe great ship's longboat; the Spaniards out-numbered them three toone, and Pierre and his men were armed only with pistols and cutlasses;nevertheless this was their one and their only chance, and theydetermined to take the Spanish ship or to die in the attempt. Down uponthe Spaniard they bore through the dusk of the night, and giving ordersto the "chirurgeon" to scuttle their craft under them as they wereleaving it, they swarmed up the side of the unsuspecting ship and uponits decks in a torrent—pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other. Apart of them ran to the gun room and secured the arms and ammunition,pistoling or cutting down all such as stood in their way or offeredopposition; the other party burst into the great cabin at the heels ofPierre le Grand, found the captain and a party of his friends at cards,set a pistol to his breast, and demanded him to deliver up the ship.Nothing remained for the Spaniard but to yield, for there was noalternative between surrender and death. And so the great prize was won.

It was not long before the news of this great exploit and of the vasttreasure gained reached the ears of the buccaneers of Tortuga andHispaniola. Then what a hubbub and an uproar and a tumult there was!Hunting wild cattle and buccanning the meat was at a discount, and theone and only thing to do was to go a-pirating; for where one such prizehad been won, others were to be had.

In a short time freebooting assumed all of the routine of a regularbusiness. Articles were drawn up betwixt captain and crew, compacts weresealed, and agreements entered into by the one party and the other.

In all professions there are those who make their mark, those whosucceed only moderately well, and those who fail more or less entirely.Nor did pirating differ from this general rule, for in it were men whorose to distinction, men whose names, something tarnished and rusted bythe lapse of years, have come down even to us of the present day.

Pierre Francois, who, with his boatload of six-and-twenty desperadoes,ran boldly into the midst of the pearl fleet off the coast ofSouth America, attacked the vice admiral under the very guns of twomen-of-war, captured his ship, though she was armed with eight guns andmanned with threescore men, and would have got her safely away, onlythat having to put on sail, their mainmast went by the board, whereuponthe men-of-war came up with them, and the prize was lost.

But even though there were two men-of-war against all that remained ofsix-and-twenty buccaneers, the Spaniards were glad enough to make termswith them for the surrender of the vessel, whereby Pierre Francois andhis men came off scot-free.

Bartholomew Portuguese was a worthy of even more note. In a boat mannedwith thirty fellow adventurers he fell upon a great ship off CapeCorrientes, manned with threescore and ten men, all told.

Her he assaulted again and again, beaten off with the very pressure ofnumbers only to renew the assault, until the Spaniards who survived,some fifty in all, surrendered to twenty living pirates, who poured upontheir decks like a score of blood-stained, powder-grimed devils.

They lost their vessel by recapture, and Bartholomew Portuguesebarely escaped with his life through a series of almost unbelievableadventures. But no sooner had he fairly escaped from the clutches of theSpaniards than, gathering together another band of adventurers, he fellupon the very same vessel in the gloom of the night, recaptured her whenshe rode at anchor in the harbor of Campeche under the guns of the fort,slipped the cable, and was away without the loss of a single man. Helost her in a hurricane soon afterward, just off the Isle of Pines; butthe deed was none the less daring for all that.

Another notable no less famous than these two worthies was RochBraziliano, the truculent Dutchman who came up from the coast of Brazilto the Spanish Main with a name ready-made for him. Upon the very firstadventure which he undertook he captured a plate ship of fabulous value,and brought her safely into Jamaica; and when at last captured by theSpaniards, he fairly frightened them into letting him go by truculentthreats of vengeance from his followers.

Such were three of the pirate buccaneers who infested the SpanishMain. There were hundreds no less desperate, no less reckless, no lessinsatiate in their lust for plunder, than they.

The effects of this freebooting soon became apparent. The risks to beassumed by the owners of vessels and the shippers of merchandise becameso enormous that Spanish commerce was practically swept away from thesewaters. No vessel dared to venture out of port excepting under escortof powerful men-of-war, and even then they were not always secure frommolestation. Exports from Central and South America were sent to Europeby way of the Strait of Magellan, and little or none went through thepasses between the Bahamas and the Caribbees.

So at last "buccaneering," as it had come to be generically called,ceased to pay the vast dividends that it had done at first. The creamwas skimmed off, and only very thin milk was left in the dish. Fabulousfortunes were no longer earned in a ten days' cruise, but what moneywas won hardly paid for the risks of the winning. There must be a newdeparture, or buccaneering would cease to exist.

Then arose one who showed the buccaneers a new way to squeeze money outof the Spaniards. This man was an Englishman—Lewis Scot.

The stoppage of commerce on the Spanish Main had naturally tended toaccumulate all the wealth gathered and produced into the chief fortifiedcities and towns of the West Indies. As there no longer existed prizesupon the sea, they must be gained upon the land, if they were to begained at all. Lewis Scot was the first to appreciate this fact.

Gathering together a large and powerful body of men as hungry forplunder and as desperate as himself, he descended upon the town ofCampeche, which he captured and sacked, stripping it of everything thatcould possibly be carried away.

When the town was cleared to the bare walls Scot threatened to set thetorch to every house in the place if it was not ransomed by a large sumof money which he demanded. With this booty he set sail for Tortuga,where he arrived safely—and the problem was solved.

After him came one Mansvelt, a buccaneer of lesser note, who first madea descent upon the isle of Saint Catharine, now Old Providence, which hetook, and, with this as a base, made an unsuccessful descent upon NeuvaGranada and Cartagena. His name might not have been handed down to usalong with others of greater fame had he not been the master of thatmost apt of pupils, the great Captain Henry Morgan, most famous ofall the buccaneers, one time governor of Jamaica, and knighted by KingCharles II.

After Mansvelt followed the bold John Davis, native of Jamaica, where hesucked in the lust of piracy with his mother's milk. With only fourscoremen, he swooped down upon the great city of Nicaragua in the darkness ofthe night, silenced the sentry with the thrust of a knife, and thenfell to pillaging the churches and houses "without any respect orveneration."

Of course it was but a short time until the whole town was in an uproarof alarm, and there was nothing left for the little handful of men to dobut to make the best of their way to their boats. They were in the townbut a short time, but in that time they were able to gather together andto carry away money and jewels to the value of fifty thousand pieces ofeight, besides dragging off with them a dozen or more notable prisoners,whom they held for ransom.

And now one appeared upon the scene who reached a far greater heightthan any had arisen to before. This was Francois l'Olonoise, whosacked the great city of Maracaibo and the town of Gibraltar. Cold,unimpassioned, pitiless, his sluggish blood was never moved by onesingle pulse of human warmth, his icy heart was never touched by one rayof mercy or one spark of pity for the hapless wretches who chanced tofall into his bloody hands.

Against him the governor of Havana sent out a great war vessel, and withit a negro executioner, so that there might be no inconvenient delays oflaw after the pirates had been captured. But l'Olonoise did not wait forthe coming of the war vessel; he went out to meet it, and he found itwhere it lay riding at anchor in the mouth of the river Estra. At thedawn of the morning he made his attack sharp, unexpected, decisive. In alittle while the Spaniards were forced below the hatches, and the vesselwas taken. Then came the end. One by one the poor shrieking wretcheswere dragged up from below, and one by one they were butchered in coldblood, while l'Olonoise stood upon the poop deck and looked coldly downupon what was being done. Among the rest the negro was dragged upon thedeck. He begged and implored that his life might be spared, promising totell all that might be asked of him. L'Olonoise questioned him, and whenhe had squeezed him dry, waved his hand coldly, and the poor black wentwith the rest. Only one man was spared; him he sent to the governor ofHavana with a message that henceforth he would give no quarter to anySpaniard whom he might meet in arms—a message which was not an emptythreat.

The rise of l'Olonoise was by no means rapid. He worked his way up bydint of hard labor and through much ill fortune. But by and by, aftermany reverses, the tide turned, and carried him with it from one successto another, without let or stay, to the bitter end.

Cruising off Maracaibo, he captured a rich prize laden with a vastamount of plate and ready money, and there conceived the design ofdescending upon the powerful town of Maracaibo itself. Without loss oftime he gathered together five hundred picked scoundrels from Tortuga,and taking with him one Michael de Basco as land captain, and twohundred more buccaneers whom he commanded, down he came into the Gulf ofVenezuela and upon the doomed city like a blast of the plague. Leavingtheir vessels, the buccaneers made a land attack upon the fort thatstood at the mouth of the inlet that led into Lake Maracaibo and guardedthe city.

The Spaniards held out well, and fought with all the might thatSpaniards possess; but after a fight of three hours all was given up andthe garrison fled, spreading terror and confusion before them. Asmany of the inhabitants of the city as could do so escaped in boats toGibraltar, which lies to the southward, on the shores of Lake Maracaibo,at the distance of some forty leagues or more.

Then the pirates marched into the town, and what followed may beconceived. It was a holocaust of lust, of passion, and of blood such aseven the Spanish West Indies had never seen before. Houses and churcheswere sacked until nothing was left but the bare walls; men and womenwere tortured to compel them to disclose where more treasure lay hidden.

Then, having wrenched all that they could from Maracaibo, theyentered the lake and descended upon Gibraltar, where the rest of thepanic-stricken inhabitants were huddled together in a blind terror.

The governor of Merida, a brave soldier who had served his king inFlanders, had gathered together a troop of eight hundred men, hadfortified the town, and now lay in wait for the coming of the pirates.The pirates came all in good time, and then, in spite of the bravedefense, Gibraltar also fell. Then followed a repetition of the scenesthat had been enacted in Maracaibo for the past fifteen days, only herethey remained for four horrible weeks, extorting money—money! evermoney!—from the poor poverty-stricken, pest-ridden souls crowded intothat fever hole of a town.

Then they left, but before they went they demanded still more money—tenthousand pieces of eight—as a ransom for the town, which otherwiseshould be given to the flames. There was some hesitation on the part ofthe Spaniards, some disposition to haggle, but there was no hesitationon the part of l'Olonoise. The torch WAS set to the town as he hadpromised, whereupon the money was promptly paid, and the pirates werepiteously begged to help quench the spreading flames. This they werepleased to do, but in spite of all their efforts nearly half of the townwas consumed.

After that they returned to Maracaibo again, where they demanded aransom of thirty thousand pieces of eight for the city. There was nohaggling here, thanks to the fate of Gibraltar; only it was utterlyimpossible to raise that much money in all of the poverty-strickenregion. But at last the matter was compromised, and the town wasredeemed for twenty thousand pieces of eight and five hundred head ofcattle, and tortured Maracaibo was quit of them.

In the Ile de la Vache the buccaneers shared among themselves twohundred and sixty thousand pieces of eight, besides jewels and bales ofsilk and linen and miscellaneous plunder to a vast amount.

Such was the one great deed of l'Olonoise; from that time his starsteadily declined—for even nature seemed fighting against such amonster—until at last he died a miserable, nameless death at the handsof an unknown tribe of Indians upon the Isthmus of Darien.

And now we come to the greatest of all the buccaneers, he who standspre-eminent among them, and whose name even to this day is a charmto call up his deeds of daring, his dauntless courage, his truculentcruelty, and his insatiate and unappeasable lust for gold—Capt. HenryMorgan, the bold Welshman, who brought buccaneering to the height andflower of its glory.

Having sold himself, after the manner of the times, for his passageacross the seas, he worked out his time of servitude at the Barbados. Assoon as he had regained his liberty he entered upon the trade of piracy,wherein he soon reached a position of considerable prominence. He wasassociated with Mansvelt at the time of the latter's descent uponSaint Catharine's Isle, the importance of which spot, as a center ofoperations against the neighboring coasts, Morgan never lost sight of.

The first attempt that Capt. Henry Morgan ever made against any townin the Spanish Indies was the bold descent upon the city of Puerto delPrincipe in the island of Cuba, with a mere handful of men. It wasa deed the boldness of which has never been outdone by any of a likenature—not even the famous attack upon Panama itself. Thence theyreturned to their boats in the very face of the whole island of Cuba,aroused and determined upon their extermination. Not only did they makegood their escape, but they brought away with them a vast amount ofplunder, computed at three hundred thousand pieces of eight, besidesfive hundred head of cattle and many prisoners held for ransom.

But when the division of all this wealth came to be made, lo! there wereonly fifty thousand pieces of eight to be found. What had become of therest no man could tell but Capt. Henry Morgan himself. Honesty amongthieves was never an axiom with him.

Rude, truculent, and dishonest as Captain Morgan was, he seems to havehad a wonderful power of persuading the wild buccaneers under him tosubmit everything to his judgment, and to rely entirely upon his word.In spite of the vast sum of money that he had very evidently made awaywith, recruits poured in upon him, until his band was larger and betterequipped than ever.

And now it was determined that the plunder harvest was ripe at PortoBello, and that city's doom was sealed. The town was defended by twostrong castles thoroughly manned, and officered by as gallant a soldieras ever carried Toledo steel at his side. But strong castles and gallantsoldiers weighed not a barleycorn with the buccaneers when their bloodwas stirred by the lust of gold.

Landing at Puerto Naso, a town some ten leagues westward of Porto Bello,they marched to the latter town, and coming before the castle, boldlydemanded its surrender. It was refused, whereupon Morgan threatened thatno quarter should be given. Still surrender was refused; and then thecastle was attacked, and after a bitter struggle was captured. Morganwas as good as his word: every man in the castle was shut in the guardroom, the match was set to the powder magazine, and soldiers, castle,and all were blown into the air, while through all the smoke and thedust the buccaneers poured into the town. Still the governor held out inthe other castle, and might have made good his defense, but that he wasbetrayed by the soldiers under him. Into the castle poured the howlingbuccaneers. But still the governor fought on, with his wife and daughterclinging to his knees and beseeching him to surrender, and the bloodfrom his wounded forehead trickling down over his white collar, until amerciful bullet put an end to the vain struggle.

Here were enacted the old scenes. Everything plundered that could betaken, and then a ransom set upon the town itself.

This time an honest, or an apparently honest, division was made ofthe spoils, which amounted to two hundred and fifty thousand pieces ofeight, besides merchandise and jewels.

The next towns to suffer were poor Maracaibo and Gibraltar, now justbeginning to recover from the desolation wrought by l'Olonoise. Oncemore both towns were plundered of every bale of merchandise and of everyplaster, and once more both were ransomed until everything was squeezedfrom the wretched inhabitants.

Here affairs were like to have taken a turn, for when Captain Morgancame up from Gibraltar he found three great men-of-war lying in theentrance to the lake awaiting his coming. Seeing that he was hemmedin the narrow sheet of water, Captain Morgan was inclined to compromisematters, even offering to relinquish all the plunder he had gained if hewere allowed to depart in peace. But no; the Spanish admiral would hearnothing of this. Having the pirates, as he thought, securely in hisgrasp, he would relinquish nothing, but would sweep them from the faceof the sea once and forever.

That was an unlucky determination for the Spaniards to reach, forinstead of paralyzing the pirates with fear, as he expected it would do,it simply turned their mad courage into as mad desperation.

A great vessel that they had taken with the town of Maracaibo wasconverted into a fire ship, manned with logs of wood in montera caps andsailor jackets, and filled with brimstone, pitch, and palm leaves soakedin oil. Then out of the lake the pirates sailed to meet the Spaniards,the fire ship leading the way, and bearing down directly upon theadmiral's vessel. At the helm stood volunteers, the most desperate andthe bravest of all the pirate gang, and at the ports stood the logs ofwood in montera caps. So they came up with the admiral, and grappledwith his ship in spite of the thunder of all his great guns, and thenthe Spaniard saw, all too late, what his opponent really was.

He tried to swing loose, but clouds of smoke and almost instantly a massof roaring flames enveloped both vessels, and the admiral was lost. Thesecond vessel, not wishing to wait for the coming of the pirates, boredown upon the fort, under the guns of which the cowardly crew sankher, and made the best of their way to the shore. The third vessel, nothaving an opportunity to escape, was taken by the pirates without theslightest resistance, and the passage from the lake was cleared. Sothe buccaneers sailed away, leaving Maracaibo and Gibraltar prostrate asecond time.

And now Captain Morgan determined to undertake another venture, the likeof which had never been equaled in all of the annals of buccaneering.This was nothing less than the descent upon and the capture of Panama,which was, next to Cartagena, perhaps, the most powerful and the moststrongly fortified city in the West Indies.

In preparation for this venture he obtained letters of marque from thegovernor of Jamaica, by virtue of which elastic commission he beganimmediately to gather around him all material necessary for theundertaking.

When it became known abroad that the great Captain Morgan was aboutundertaking an adventure that was to eclipse all that was ever donebefore, great numbers came flocking to his standard, until he hadgathered together an army of two thousand or more desperadoes andpirates wherewith to prosecute his adventure, albeit the venture itselfwas kept a total secret from everyone. Port Couillon, in the island ofHispaniola, over against the Ile de la Vache, was the place of muster,and thither the motley band gathered from all quarters. Provisions hadbeen plundered from the mainland wherever they could be obtained, and bythe 24th of October, 1670 (O. S.), everything was in readiness.

The island of Saint Catharine, as it may be remembered, was at one timecaptured by Mansvelt, Morgan's master in his trade of piracy. It hadbeen retaken by the Spaniards, and was now thoroughly fortified by them.Almost the first attempt that Morgan had made as a master pirate was theretaking of Saint Catharine's Isle. In that undertaking he had failed;but now, as there was an absolute need of some such place as a baseof operations, he determined that the place must be taken. And it wastaken.

The Spaniards, during the time of their possession, had fortified itmost thoroughly and completely, and had the governor thereof been asbrave as he who met his death in the castle of Porto Bello, there mighthave been a different tale to tell. As it was, he surrendered it in amost cowardly fashion, merely stipulating that there should be a shamattack by the buccaneers, whereby his credit might be saved. And soSaint Catharine was won.

The next step to be taken was the capture of the castle of Chagres,which guarded the mouth of the river of that name, up which river thebuccaneers would be compelled to transport their troops and provisionsfor the attack upon the city of Panama. This adventure was undertaken byfour hundred picked men under command of Captain Morgan himself.

The castle of Chagres, known as San Lorenzo by the Spaniards, stood uponthe top of an abrupt rock at the mouth of the river, and was one ofthe strongest fortresses for its size in all of the West Indies. Thisstronghold Morgan must have if he ever hoped to win Panama.

The attack of the castle and the defense of it were equally fierce,bloody, and desperate. Again and again the buccaneers assaulted, andagain and again they were beaten back. So the morning came, and itseemed as though the pirates had been baffled this time. But just atthis juncture the thatch of palm leaves on the roofs of some of thebuildings inside the fortifications took fire, a conflagration followed,which caused the explosion of one of the magazines, and in theparalysis of terror that followed, the pirates forced their way intothe fortifications, and the castle was won. Most of the Spaniardsflung themselves from the castle walls into the river or upon the rocksbeneath, preferring death to capture and possible torture; many whowere left were put to the sword, and some few were spared and held asprisoners.

So fell the castle of Chagres, and nothing now lay between thebuccaneers and the city of Panama but the intervening and tracklessforests.

And now the name of the town whose doom was sealed was no secret.

Up the river of Chagres went Capt. Henry Morgan and twelve hundred men,packed closely in their canoes; they never stopped, saving now and thento rest their stiffened legs, until they had come to a place known asCruz de San Juan Gallego, where they were compelled to leave their boatson account of the shallowness of the water.

Leaving a guard of one hundred and sixty men to protect their boats asa place of refuge in case they should be worsted before Panama, theyturned and plunged into the wilderness before them.

There a more powerful foe awaited them than a host of Spaniardswith match, powder, and lead—starvation. They met but little or noopposition in their progress; but wherever they turned they found everyfiber of meat, every grain of maize, every ounce of bread or meal, sweptaway or destroyed utterly before them. Even when the buccaneers hadsuccessfully overcome an ambuscade or an attack, and had sent theSpaniards flying, the fugitives took the time to strip their deadcomrades of every grain of food in their leathern sacks, leaving nothingbut the empty bags.

Says the narrator of these events, himself one of the expedition, "Theyafterward fell to eating those leathern bags, as affording something tothe ferment of their stomachs."

Ten days they struggled through this bitter privation, doggedly forcingtheir way onward, faint with hunger and haggard with weakness and fever.Then, from the high hill and over the tops of the forest trees, they sawthe steeples of Panama, and nothing remained between them and their goalbut the fighting of four Spaniards to every one of them—a simple thingwhich they had done over and over again.

Down they poured upon Panama, and out came the Spaniards to meet them;four hundred horse, two thousand five hundred foot, and two thousandwild bulls which had been herded together to be driven over thebuccaneers so that their ranks might be disordered and broken. Thebuccaneers were only eight hundred strong; the others had eitherfallen in battle or had dropped along the dreary pathway through thewilderness; but in the space of two hours the Spaniards were flyingmadly over the plain, minus six hundred who lay dead or dying behindthem.

As for the bulls, as many of them as were shot served as food there andthen for the half-famished pirates, for the buccaneers were never moreat home than in the slaughter of cattle.

Then they marched toward the city. Three hours' more fighting andthey were in the streets, howling, yelling, plundering, gorging,dram-drinking, and giving full vent to all the vile and nameless luststhat burned in their hearts like a hell of fire. And now followed theusual sequence of events—rapine, cruelty, and extortion; only this timethere was no town to ransom, for Morgan had given orders that it shouldbe destroyed. The torch was set to it, and Panama, one of the greatestcities in the New World, was swept from the face of the earth. Why thedeed was done, no man but Morgan could tell. Perhaps it was that allthe secret hiding places for treasure might be brought to light; butwhatever the reason was, it lay hidden in the breast of the greatbuccaneer himself. For three weeks Morgan and his men abode in thisdreadful place; and they marched away with ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVEbeasts of burden loaded with treasures of gold and silver and jewels,besides great quantities of merchandise, and six hundred prisoners heldfor ransom.

Whatever became of all that vast wealth, and what it amounted to, noman but Morgan ever knew, for when a division was made it was found thatthere was only TWO HUNDRED PIECES OF EIGHT TO EACH MAN.

When this dividend was declared a howl of execration went up, underwhich even Capt. Henry Morgan quailed. At night he and four othercommanders slipped their cables and ran out to sea, and it was said thatthese divided the greater part of the booty among themselves. But thewealth plundered at Panama could hardly have fallen short of a millionand a half of dollars. Computing it at this reasonable figure, thevarious prizes won by Henry Morgan in the West Indies would stand asfollows: Panama, $1,500,000; Porto Bello, $800,000; Puerto delPrincipe, $700,000; Maracaibo and Gibraltar, $400,000; various piracies,$250,000—making a grand total of $3,650,000 as the vast harvest ofplunder. With this fabulous wealth, wrenched from the Spaniards bymeans of the rack and the cord, and pilfered from his companions by themeanest of thieving, Capt. Henry Morgan retired from business, honoredof all, rendered famous by his deeds, knighted by the good King CharlesII, and finally appointed governor of the rich island of Jamaica.

Other buccaneers followed him. Campeche was taken and sacked, and evenCartagena itself fell; but with Henry Morgan culminated the glory ofthe buccaneers, and from that time they declined in power and wealth andwickedness until they were finally swept away.

The buccaneers became bolder and bolder. In fact, so daring were theircrimes that the home governments, stirred at last by these outrageousbarbarities, seriously undertook the suppression of the freebooters,lopping and trimming the main trunk until its members were scatteredhither and thither, and it was thought that the organization wasexterminated. But, so far from being exterminated, the individualmembers were merely scattered north, south, east, and west, each forminga nucleus around which gathered and clustered the very worst of theoffscouring of humanity.

The result was that when the seventeenth century was fairly packed awaywith its lavender in the store chest of the past, a score or morebands of freebooters were cruising along the Atlantic seaboard in armedvessels, each with a black flag with its skull and crossbones at thefore, and with a nondescript crew made up of the tags and remnants ofcivilized and semicivilized humanity (white, black, red, and yellow),known generally as marooners, swarming upon the decks below.

Nor did these offshoots from the old buccaneer stem confine theirdepredations to the American seas alone; the East Indies and the Africancoast also witnessed their doings, and suffered from them, and even theBay of Biscay had good cause to remember more than one visit from them.

Worthy sprigs from so worthy a stem improved variously upon theparent methods; for while the buccaneers were content to prey upon theSpaniards alone, the marooners reaped the harvest from the commerce ofall nations.

So up and down the Atlantic seaboard they cruised, and for the fiftyyears that marooning was in the flower of its glory it was a sorrowfultime for the coasters of New England, the middle provinces, and theVirginias, sailing to the West Indies with their cargoes of salt fish,grain, and tobacco. Trading became almost as dangerous as privateering,and sea captains were chosen as much for their knowledge of theflintlock and the cutlass as for their seamanship.

As by far the largest part of the trading in American waters wasconducted by these Yankee coasters, so by far the heaviest blows, andthose most keenly felt, fell upon them. Bulletin after bulletin cameto port with its doleful tale of this vessel burned or that vesselscuttled, this one held by the pirates for their own use or that onestripped of its goods and sent into port as empty as an eggshell fromwhich the yolk had been sucked. Boston, New York, Philadelphia, andCharleston suffered alike, and worthy ship owners had to leave offcounting their losses upon their fingers and take to the slate to keepthe dismal record.

"Maroon—to put ashore on a desert isle, as a sailor, under pretense ofhaving committed some great crime." Thus our good Noah Webster gives usthe dry bones, the anatomy, upon which the imagination may construct aspecimen to suit itself.

It is thence that the marooners took their name, for marooning wasone of their most effective instruments of punishment or revenge. If apirate broke one of the many rules which governed the particular bandto which he belonged, he was marooned; did a captain defend his ship tosuch a degree as to be unpleasant to the pirates attacking it, hewas marooned; even the pirate captain himself, if he displeased hisfollowers by the severity of his rule, was in danger of having the samepunishment visited upon him which he had perhaps more than once visitedupon another.

The process of marooning was as simple as terrible. A suitable place waschosen (generally some desert isle as far removed as possible from thepathway of commerce), and the condemned man was rowed from the ship tothe beach. Out he was bundled upon the sand spit; a gun, a half dozenbullets, a few pinches of powder, and a bottle of water were chuckedashore after him, and away rowed the boat's crew back to the ship,leaving the poor wretch alone to rave away his life in madness, or tosit sunken in his gloomy despair till death mercifully released him fromtorment. It rarely if ever happened that anything was known of him afterhaving been marooned. A boat's crew from some vessel, sailing by chancethat way, might perhaps find a few chalky bones bleaching upon the whitesand in the garish glare of the sunlight, but that was all. And suchwere marooners.

By far the largest number of pirate captains were Englishmen, for,from the days of good Queen Bess, English sea captains seemed to havea natural turn for any species of venture that had a smack of piracyin it, and from the great Admiral Drake of the old, old days, to thetruculent Morgan of buccaneering times, the Englishman did the boldestand wickedest deeds, and wrought the most damage.

First of all upon the list of pirates stands the bold Captain Avary, oneof the institutors of marooning. Him we see but dimly, half hidden bythe glamouring mists of legends and tradition. Others who came afterwardoutstripped him far enough in their doings, but he stands pre-eminent asthe first of marooners of whom actual history has been handed down to usof the present day.

When the English, Dutch, and Spanish entered into an alliance tosuppress buccaneering in the West Indies, certain worthies of Bristol,in old England, fitted out two vessels to assist in this laudableproject; for doubtless Bristol trade suffered smartly from the Morgansand the l'Olonoises of that old time. One of these vessels was named theDuke, of which a certain Captain Gibson was the commander and Avary themate.

Away they sailed to the West Indies, and there Avary became impressed bythe advantages offered by piracy, and by the amount of good things thatwere to be gained by very little striving.

One night the captain (who was one of those fellows mightily addictedto punch), instead of going ashore to saturate himself with rum at theordinary, had his drink in his cabin in private. While he lay snoringaway the effects of his rum in the cabin, Avary and a few otherconspirators heaved the anchor very leisurely, and sailed out of theharbor of Corunna, and through the midst of the allied fleet riding atanchor in the darkness.

By and by, when the morning came, the captain was awakened by thepitching and tossing of the vessel, the rattle and clatter of the tackleoverhead, and the noise of footsteps passing and repassing hither andthither across the deck. Perhaps he lay for a while turning the matterover and over in his muddled head, but he presently rang the bell, andAvary and another fellow answered the call.

"What's the matter?" bawls the captain from his berth.

"Nothing," says Avary, coolly.

"Something's the matter with the ship," says the captain. "Does shedrive? What weather is it?"

"Oh no," says Avary; "we are at sea."

"At sea?"

"Come, come!" says Avary: "I'll tell you; you must know that I'm thecaptain of the ship now, and you must be packing from this here cabin.We are bound to Madagascar, to make all of our fortunes, and if you're amind to ship for the cruise, why, we'll be glad to have you, if you willbe sober and mind your own business; if not, there is a boat alongside,and I'll have you set ashore."

The poor half-tipsy captain had no relish to go a-pirating under thecommand of his backsliding mate, so out of the ship he bundled, and awayhe rowed with four or five of the crew, who, like him, refused to joinwith their jolly shipmates.

The rest of them sailed away to the East Indies, to try their fortunesin those waters, for our Captain Avary was of a high spirit, and hadno mind to fritter away his time in the West Indies squeezed dry bybuccaneer Morgan and others of lesser note. No, he would make a boldstroke for it at once, and make or lose at a single cast.

On his way he picked up a couple of like kind with himself—two sloopsoff Madagascar. With these he sailed away to the coast of India, and fora time his name was lost in the obscurity of uncertain history. Butonly for a time, for suddenly it flamed out in a blaze of glory. It wasreported that a vessel belonging to the Great Mogul, laden with treasureand bearing the monarch's own daughter upon a holy pilgrimage to Mecca(they being Mohammedans), had fallen in with the pirates, and after ashort resistance had been surrendered, with the damsel, her court, andall the diamonds, pearls, silk, silver, and gold aboard. It was rumoredthat the Great Mogul, raging at the insult offered to him through hisown flesh and blood, had threatened to wipe out of existence the fewEnglish settlements scattered along the coast; whereat the honorableEast India Company was in a pretty state of fuss and feathers. Rumor,growing with the telling, has it that Avary is going to marry theIndian princess, willy-nilly, and will turn rajah, and eschew piracy asindecent. As for the treasure itself, there was no end to the extent towhich it grew as it passed from mouth to mouth.

Cracking the nut of romance and exaggeration, we come to the kernel ofthe story—that Avary did fall in with an Indian vessel laden with greattreasure (and possibly with the Mogul's daughter), which he captured,and thereby gained a vast prize.

Having concluded that he had earned enough money by the trade he hadundertaken, he determined to retire and live decently for the rest ofhis life upon what he already had. As a step toward this object, he setabout cheating his Madagascar partners out of their share of what hadbeen gained. He persuaded them to store all the treasure in his vessel,it being the largest of the three; and so, having it safely in hand, healtered the course of his ship one fine night, and when the morningcame the Madagascar sloops found themselves floating upon a wide oceanwithout a farthing of the treasure for which they had fought so hard,and for which they might whistle for all the good it would do them.

At first Avary had a great part of a mind to settle at Boston, inMassachusetts, and had that little town been one whit less bleak andforbidding, it might have had the honor of being the home of this famousman. As it was, he did not like the looks of it, so he sailed away tothe eastward, to Ireland, where he settled himself at Biddeford, inhopes of an easy life of it for the rest of his days.

Here he found himself the possessor of a plentiful stock of jewels, suchas pearls, diamonds, rubies, etc., but with hardly a score of honestfarthings to jingle in his breeches pocket. He consulted with a certainmerchant of Bristol concerning the disposal of the stones—a fellownot much more cleanly in his habits of honesty than Avary himself.This worthy undertook to act as Avary's broker. Off he marched withthe jewels, and that was the last that the pirate saw of his Indiantreasure.

Perhaps the most famous of all the piratical names to American ears arethose of Capt. Robert Kidd and Capt. Edward Teach, or "Blackbeard."

Nothing will be ventured in regard to Kidd at this time, nor in regardto the pros and cons as to whether he really was or was not a pirate,after all. For many years he was the very hero of heroes of piraticalfame, there was hardly a creek or stream or point of land along ourcoast, hardly a convenient bit of good sandy beach, or hump of rock, orwater-washed cave, where fabulous treasures were not said to have beenhidden by this worthy marooner. Now we are assured that he never wasa pirate, and never did bury any treasure, excepting a certain chest,which he was compelled to hide upon Gardiner's Island—and perhaps evenit was mythical.

So poor Kidd must be relegated to the dull ranks of simply respectablepeople, or semirespectable people at best.

But with "Blackbeard" it is different, for in him we have a real,ranting, raging, roaring pirate per se—one who really did burytreasure, who made more than one captain walk the plank, and whocommitted more private murders than he could number on the fingers ofboth hands; one who fills, and will continue to fill, the place to whichhe has been assigned for generations, and who may be depended upon tohold his place in the confidence of others for generations to come.

Captain Teach was a Bristol man born, and learned his trade on board ofsundry privateers in the East Indies during the old French war—that of1702—and a better apprenticeship could no man serve. At last, somewhereabout the latter part of the year 1716, a privateering captain, oneBenjamin Hornigold, raised him from the ranks and put him in command ofa sloop—a lately captured prize and Blackbeard's fortune was made. Itwas a very slight step, and but the change of a few letters, to convert"privateer" into "pirate," and it was a very short time before Teachmade that change. Not only did he make it himself, but he persuaded hisold captain to join with him.

And now fairly began that series of bold and lawless depredations whichhave made his name so justly famous, and which placed him among the verygreatest of marooning freebooters.

"Our hero," says the old historian who sings of the arms and bravery ofthis great man—"our hero assumed the cognomen of Blackbeard from thatlarge quantity of hair which, like a frightful meteor, covered his wholeface, and frightened America more than any comet that appeared therein a long time. He was accustomed to twist it with ribbons into smalltails, after the manner of our Ramillies wig, and turn them about hisears. In time of action he wore a sling over his shoulders, with threebrace of pistols, hanging in holsters like bandoleers; he stuck lightedmatches under his hat, which, appearing on each side of his face, andhis eyes naturally looking fierce and wild, made him altogether such afigure that imagination cannot form an idea of a Fury from hell to lookmore frightful."

The night before the day of the action in which he was killed he sat updrinking with some congenial company until broad daylight. One of themasked him if his poor young wife knew where his treasure was hidden."No," says Blackbeard; "nobody but the devil and I knows where it is,and the longest liver shall have all."

As for that poor young wife of his, the life that he and his rum-crazyshipmates led her was too terrible to be told.

For a time Blackbeard worked at his trade down on the Spanish Main,gathering, in the few years he was there, a very neat little fortune inthe booty captured from sundry vessels; but by and by he took it intohis head to try his luck along the coast of the Carolinas; so offhe sailed to the northward, with quite a respectable little fleet,consisting of his own vessel and two captured sloops. From that time hewas actively engaged in the making of American history in his small way.

He first appeared off the bar of Charleston Harbor, to the no smallexcitement of the worthy town of that ilk, and there he lay for fiveor six days, blockading the port, and stopping incoming and outgoingvessels at his pleasure, so that, for the time, the commerce of theprovince was entirely paralyzed. All the vessels so stopped he held asprizes, and all the crews and passengers (among the latter of whom wasmore than one provincial worthy of the day) he retained as though theywere prisoners of war.

And it was a mightily awkward thing for the good folk of Charleston tobehold day after day a black flag with its white skull and crossbonesfluttering at the fore of the pirate captain's craft, over across thelevel stretch of green salt marshes; and it was mightily unpleasant,too, to know that this or that prominent citizen was crowded down withthe other prisoners under the hatches.

One morning Captain Blackbeard finds that his stock of medicine is low."Tut!" says he, "we'll turn no hair gray for that." So up he calls thebold Captain Richards, the commander of his consort the Revenge sloop,and bids him take Mr. Marks (one of his prisoners), and go up toCharleston and get the medicine. There was no task that suited ourCaptain Richards better than that. Up to the town he rowed, as bold asbrass. "Look ye," says he to the governor, rolling his quid of tobaccofrom one cheek to another—"look ye, we're after this and that, and ifwe don't get it, why, I'll tell you plain, we'll burn them bloody craftsof yours that we've took over yonder, and cut the weasand of everyclodpoll aboard of 'em."

There was no answering an argument of such force as this, and theworshipful governor and the good folk of Charleston knew very wellthat Blackbeard and his crew were the men to do as they promised. SoBlackbeard got his medicine, and though it cost the colony two thousanddollars, it was worth that much to the town to be quit of him.

They say that while Captain Richards was conducting his negotiationswith the governor his boat's crew were stumping around the streets ofthe town, having a glorious time of it, while the good folk gloweredwrathfully at them, but dared venture nothing in speech or act.

Having gained a booty of between seven and eight thousand dollars fromthe prizes captured, the pirates sailed away from Charleston Harbor tothe coast of North Carolina.

And now Blackbeard, following the plan adopted by so many others of hiskind, began to cudgel his brains for means to cheat his fellows out oftheir share of the booty.

At Topsail Inlet he ran his own vessel aground, as though by accident.Hands, the captain of one of the consorts, pretending to come to hisassistance, also grounded HIS sloop. Nothing now remained but for thosewho were able to get away in the other craft, which was all that wasnow left of the little fleet. This did Blackbeard with some forty of hisfavorites. The rest of the pirates were left on the sand spit to awaitthe return of their companions—which never happened.

As for Blackbeard and those who were with him, they were that muchricher, for there were so many the fewer pockets to fill. But even yetthere were too many to share the booty, in Blackbeard's opinion, and sohe marooned a parcel more of them—some eighteen or twenty—upon a nakedsand bank, from which they were afterward mercifully rescued by anotherfreebooter who chanced that way—a certain Major Stede Bonnet, of whommore will presently be said. About that time a royal proclamation hadbeen issued offering pardon to all pirates in arms who would surrenderto the king's authority before a given date. So up goes MasterBlackbeard to the Governor of North Carolina and makes his neck safe bysurrendering to the proclamation—albeit he kept tight clutch upon whathe had already gained.

And now we find our bold Captain Blackbeard established in the goodprovince of North Carolina, where he and His Worship the Governor struckup a vast deal of intimacy, as profitable as it was pleasant. There issomething very pretty in the thought of the bold sea rover giving up hisadventurous life (excepting now and then an excursion against a traderor two in the neighboring sound, when the need of money was pressing);settling quietly down into the routine of old colonial life, with ayoung wife of sixteen at his side, who made the fourteenth that he hadin various ports here and there in the world.

Becoming tired of an inactive life, Blackbeard afterward resumed hispiratical career. He cruised around in the rivers and inlets and soundsof North Carolina for a while, ruling the roost and with never a one tosay him nay, until there was no bearing with such a pest any longer. Sothey sent a deputation up to the Governor of Virginia asking if he wouldbe pleased to help them in their trouble.

There were two men-of-war lying at Kicquetan, in the James River, at thetime. To them the Governor of Virginia applies, and plucky LieutenantMaynard, of the Pearl, was sent to Ocracoke Inlet to fight this piratewho ruled it down there so like the cock of a walk. There he foundBlackbeard waiting for him, and as ready for a fight as ever thelieutenant himself could be. Fight they did, and while it lasted itwas as pretty a piece of business of its kind as one could wish tosee. Blackbeard drained a glass of grog, wishing the lieutenant luckin getting aboard of him, fired a broadside, blew some twenty of thelieutenant's men out of existence, and totally crippled one of hislittle sloops for the balance of the fight. After that, and under coverof the smoke, the pirate and his men boarded the other sloop, and thenfollowed a fine old-fashioned hand-to-hand conflict betwixt him and thelieutenant. First they fired their pistols, and then they took to itwith cutlasses—right, left, up and down, cut and slash—until thelieutenant's cutlass broke short off at the hilt. Then Blackbeard wouldhave finished him off handsomely, only up steps one of the lieutenant'smen and fetches him a great slash over the neck, so that the lieutenantcame off with no more hurt than a cut across the knuckles.

At the very first discharge of their pistols Blackbeard had been shotthrough the body, but he was not for giving up for that—not he. As saidbefore, he was of the true roaring, raging breed of pirates, and stoodup to it until he received twenty more cutlass cuts and five additionalshots, and then fell dead while trying to fire off an empty pistol.After that the lieutenant cut off the pirate's head, and sailed away intriumph, with the bloody trophy nailed to the bow of his battered sloop.

Those of Blackbeard's men who were not killed were carried off toVirginia, and all of them tried and hanged but one or two, their names,no doubt, still standing in a row in the provincial records.

But did Blackbeard really bury treasures, as tradition says, along thesandy shores he haunted?

Master Clement Downing, midshipman aboard the Salisbury, wrote a bookafter his return from the cruise to Madagascar, whither the Salisburyhad been ordered, to put an end to the piracy with which those waterswere infested. He says:

"At Guzarat I met with a Portuguese named Anthony de Sylvestre; he camewith two other Portuguese and two Dutchmen to take on in the Moor'sservice, as many Europeans do. This Anthony told me he had been amongthe pirates, and that he belonged to one of the sloops in Virginia whenBlackbeard was taken. He informed me that if it should be my lot everto go to York River or Maryland, near an island called Mulberry Island,provided we went on shore at the watering place, where the shipping usedmost commonly to ride, that there the pirates had buried considerablesums of money in great chests well clamped with iron plates. As to mypart, I never was that way, nor much acquainted with any that ever usedthose parts; but I have made inquiry, and am informed that there is sucha place as Mulberry Island. If any person who uses those parts shouldthink it worth while to dig a little way at the upper end of a smallcove, where it is convenient to land, he would soon find whether theinformation I had was well grounded. Fronting the landing place are fivetrees, among which, he said, the money was hid. I cannot warrant thetruth of this account; but if I was ever to go there, I should find somemeans or other to satisfy myself, as it could not be a great deal outof my way. If anybody should obtain the benefit of this account, if itplease God that they ever come to England, 'tis hoped they will rememberwhence they had this information."

Another worthy was Capt. Edward Low, who learned his trade ofsail-making at good old Boston town, and piracy at Honduras. No onestood higher in the trade than he, and no one mounted to more loftyaltitudes of bloodthirsty and unscrupulous wickedness. 'Tis strange thatso little has been written and sung of this man of might, for he was asworthy of story and of song as was Blackbeard.

It was under a Yankee captain that he made his first cruise—down toHonduras, for a cargo of logwood, which in those times was no betterthan stolen from the Spanish folk.

One day, lying off the shore, in the Gulf of Honduras, comes Master Lowand the crew of the whaleboat rowing across from the beach, where theyhad been all morning chopping logwood.

"What are you after?" says the captain, for they were coming back withnothing but themselves in the boat.

"We're after our dinner," says Low, as spokesman of the party.

"You'll have no dinner," says the captain, "until you fetch off anotherload."

"Dinner or no dinner, we'll pay for it," says Low, wherewith he up witha musket, squinted along the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

Luckily the gun hung fire, and the Yankee captain was spared to steallogwood a while longer.

All the same, that was no place for Ned Low to make a longer stay, sooff he and his messmates rowed in a whaleboat, captured a brig out atsea, and turned pirates.

He presently fell in with the notorious Captain Lowther, a fellow afterhis own kidney, who put the finishing touches to his education andtaught him what wickedness he did not already know.

And so he became a master pirate, and a famous hand at his craft, andthereafter forever bore an inveterate hatred of all Yankees because ofthe dinner he had lost, and never failed to smite whatever one ofthem luck put within his reach. Once he fell in with a ship off SouthCarolina—the Amsterdam Merchant, Captain Williamson, commander—aYankee craft and a Yankee master. He slit the nose and cropped the earsof the captain, and then sailed merrily away, feeling the better forhaving marred a Yankee.

New York and New England had more than one visit from the doughtycaptain, each of which visits they had good cause to remember, for hemade them smart for it.

Along in the year 1722 thirteen vessels were riding at anchor in frontof the good town of Marblehead. Into the harbor sailed a strange craft."Who is she?" say the townsfolk, for the coming of a new vessel was nosmall matter in those days.

Who the strangers were was not long a matter of doubt. Up goes the blackflag, and the skull and crossbones to the fore.

"'Tis the bloody Low," say one and all; and straightway all was flutterand commotion, as in a duck pond when a hawk pitches and strikes in themidst.

It was a glorious thing for our captain, for here were thirteen Yankeecrafts at one and the same time. So he took what he wanted, and thensailed away, and it was many a day before Marblehead forgot that visit.

Some time after this he and his consort fell foul of an English sloopof war, the Greyhound, whereby they were so roughly handled that Low wasglad enough to slip away, leaving his consort and her crew behind him,as a sop to the powers of law and order. And lucky for them if no worsefate awaited them than to walk the dreadful plank with a bandage aroundthe blinded eyes and a rope around the elbows. So the consort was taken,and the crew tried and hanged in chains, and Low sailed off in as prettya bit of rage as ever a pirate fell into.

The end of this worthy is lost in the fogs of the past: some say that hedied of a yellow fever down in New Orleans; it was not at the end of ahempen cord, more's the pity.

Here fittingly with our strictly American pirates should stand MajorStede Bonnet along with the rest. But in truth he was only a poorhalf-and-half fellow of his kind, and even after his hand was fairlyturned to the business he had undertaken, a qualm of conscience wouldnow and then come across him, and he would make vast promises toforswear his evil courses.

However, he jogged along in his course of piracy snugly enough until hefell foul of the gallant Colonel Rhett, off Charleston Harbor, whereuponhis luck and his courage both were suddenly snuffed out with a puff ofpowder smoke and a good rattling broadside. Down came the "Black Roger"with its skull and crossbones from the fore, and Colonel Rhett had theglory of fetching back as pretty a cargo of scoundrels and cutthroats asthe town ever saw.

After the next assizes they were strung up, all in a row—evil applesready for the roasting.

"Ned" England was a fellow of different blood—only he snapped his whipacross the back of society over in the East Indies and along the hotshores of Hindustan.

The name of Capt. Howel Davis stands high among his fellows. He was theUlysses of pirates, the beloved not only of Mercury, but of Minerva.

He it was who hoodwinked the captain of a French ship of double the sizeand strength of his own, and fairly cheated him into the surrender ofhis craft without the firing of a single pistol or the striking of asingle blow; he it was who sailed boldly into the port of Gambia, on thecoast of Guinea, and under the guns of the castle, proclaiming himselfas a merchant trading for slaves.

The cheat was kept up until the fruit of mischief was ripe for thepicking; then, when the governor and the guards of the castle werelulled into entire security, and when Davis's band was scattered aboutwherever each man could do the most good, it was out pistol, up cutlass,and death if a finger moved. They tied the soldiers back to back, andthe governor to his own armchair, and then rifled wherever it pleasedthem. After that they sailed away, and though they had not made thefortune they had hoped to glean, it was a good snug round sum that theyshared among them.

Their courage growing high with success, they determined to attempt theisland of Del Principe—a prosperous Portuguese settlement on thecoast. The plan for taking the place was cleverly laid, and would havesucceeded, only that a Portuguese negro among the pirate crew turnedtraitor and carried the news ashore to the governor of the fort.Accordingly, the next day, when Captain Davis came ashore, he foundthere a good strong guard drawn up as though to honor his coming. Butafter he and those with him were fairly out of their boat, and well awayfrom the water side, there was a sudden rattle of musketry, a cloud ofsmoke, and a dull groan or two. Only one man ran out from under thatpungent cloud, jumped into the boat, and rowed away; and when it lifted,there lay Captain Davis and his companions all of a heap, like a pile ofold clothes.

Capt. Bartholomew Roberts was the particular and especial pupilof Davis, and when that worthy met his death so suddenly and sounexpectedly in the unfortunate manner above narrated, he was chosenunanimously as the captain of the fleet, and he was a worthy pupil ofa worthy master. Many were the poor fluttering merchant ducks that thissea hawk swooped upon and struck; and cleanly and cleverly were theyplucked before his savage clutch loosened its hold upon them.

"He made a gallant figure," says the old narrator, "being dressed in arich crimson waistcoat and breeches and red feather in his hat, a goldchain around his neck, with a diamond cross hanging to it, a sword inhis hand, and two pair of pistols hanging at the end of a silk slingflung over his shoulders according to the fashion of the pyrates."Thus he appeared in the last engagement which he fought—that with theSwallow—a royal sloop of war. A gallant fight they made of it, thosebulldog pirates, for, finding themselves caught in a trap betwixt theman-of-war and the shore, they determined to bear down upon the king'svessel, fire a slapping broadside into her, and then try to get away,trusting to luck in the doing, and hoping that their enemy might becrippled by their fire.

Captain Roberts himself was the first to fall at the return fire of theSwallow; a grapeshot struck him in the neck, and he fell forward acrossthe gun near to which he was standing at the time. A certain fellownamed Stevenson, who was at the helm, saw him fall, and thought he waswounded. At the lifting of the arm the body rolled over upon the deck,and the man saw that the captain was dead. "Whereupon," says the oldhistory, "he" [Stevenson] "gushed into tears, and wished that the nextshot might be his portion." After their captain's death the pirate crewhad no stomach for more fighting; the "Black Roger" was struck, and oneand all surrendered to justice and the gallows.

Such is a brief and bald account of the most famous of these pirates.But they are only a few of a long list of notables, such as CaptainMartel, Capt. Charles Vane (who led the gallant Colonel Rhett, of SouthCarolina, such a wild-goose chase in and out among the sluggish creeksand inlets along the coast), Capt. John Rackam, and Captain Anstis,Captain Worley, and Evans, and Philips, and others—a score or more ofwild fellows whose very names made ship captains tremble in their shoesin those good old times.

And such is that black chapter of history of the past—an evil chapter,lurid with cruelty and suffering, stained with blood and smoke. Yetit is a written chapter, and it must be read. He who chooses mayread betwixt the lines of history this great truth: Evil itself is aninstrument toward the shaping of good. Therefore the history of evil aswell as the history of good should be read, considered, and digested.

Chapter II. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND

IT is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a manbecause of something that his grandfather may have done amiss, but theworld, which is never overnice in its discrimination as to where to laythe blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer in the place ofthe guilty.

Barnaby True was a good, honest, biddable lad, as boys go, but yet hewas not ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather hadbeen that very famous pirate, Capt. William Brand, who, after so manymarvelous adventures (if one may believe the catchpenny stories andballads that were written about him), was murdered in Jamaica by Capt.John Malyoe, the commander of his own consort, the Adventure galley.

It has never been denied, that ever I heard, that up to the time ofCaptain Brand's being commissioned against the South Sea pirates he hadalways been esteemed as honest, reputable a sea captain as could be.

When he started out upon that adventure it was with a ship, the RoyalSovereign, fitted out by some of the most decent merchants of New York.The governor himself had subscribed to the adventure, and had himselfsigned Captain Brand's commission. So, if the unfortunate man wentastray, he must have had great temptation to do so, many others behavingno better when the opportunity offered in those far-away seas where somany rich purchases might very easily be taken and no one the wiser.

To be sure, those stories and ballads made our captain to be a mostwicked, profane wretch; and if he were, why, God knows he suffered andpaid for it, for he laid his bones in Jamaica, and never saw his homeor his wife and daughter again after he had sailed away on the RoyalSovereign on that long misfortunate voyage, leaving them in New York tothe care of strangers.

At the time when he met his fate in Port Royal Harbor he had obtainedtwo vessels under his command—the Royal Sovereign, which was the boatfitted out for him in New York, and the Adventure galley, which he wassaid to have taken somewhere in the South Seas. With these he lay inthose waters of Jamaica for over a month after his return from thecoasts of Africa, waiting for news from home, which, when it came, wasof the very blackest; for the colonial authorities were at that timestirred up very hot against him to take him and hang him for a pirate,so as to clear their own skirts for having to do with such a fellow. Somaybe it seemed better to our captain to hide his ill-gotten treasurethere in those far-away parts, and afterward to try and bargain with itfor his life when he should reach New York, rather than to sail straightfor the Americas with what he had earned by his piracies, and so risklosing life and money both.

However that might be, the story was that Captain Brand and his gunner,and Captain Malyoe of the Adventure and the sailing master of theAdventure all went ashore together with a chest of money (no one of themchoosing to trust the other three in so nice an affair), and buried thetreasure somewhere on the beach of Port Royal Harbor. The story then hasit that they fell a-quarreling about a future division or the money,and that, as a wind-up to the affair, Captain Malyoe shot Captain Brandthrough the head, while the sailing master of the Adventure served thegunner of the Royal Sovereign after the same fashion through the body,and that the murderers then went away, leaving the two stretched outin their own blood on the sand in the staring sun, with no one to knowwhere the money was hid but they two who had served their comrades so.

It is a mighty great pity that anyone should have a grandfather whoended his days in such a sort as this, but it was no fault of BarnabyTrue's, nor could he have done anything to prevent it, seeing that hewas not even born into the world at the time that his grandfather turnedpirate, and was only one year old when he so met his tragical end.Nevertheless, the boys with whom he went to school never tired ofcalling him "Pirate," and would sometimes sing for his benefit thatfamous catchpenny song beginning thus:

Oh, my name was Captain Brand,     A-sailing,     And a-sailing;     Oh, my name was Captain Brand,     A-sailing free.     Oh, my name was Captain Brand,     And I sinned by sea and land,     For I broke God's just command,     A-sailing free.

'Twas a vile thing to sing at the grandson of so misfortunate a man, andoftentimes little Barnaby True would double up his fists and would fighthis tormentors at great odds, and would sometimes go back home with abloody nose to have his poor mother cry over him and grieve for him.

Not that his days were all of teasing and torment, neither; for if hiscomrades did treat him so, why, then, there were other times when heand they were as great friends as could be, and would go in swimmingtogether where there was a bit of sandy strand along the East Riverabove Fort George, and that in the most amicable fashion. Or, maybethe very next day after he had fought so with his fellows, he would goa-rambling with them up the Bowerie Road, perhaps to help them stealcherries from some old Dutch farmer, forgetting in such adventure what athief his own grandfather had been.

Well, when Barnaby True was between sixteen and seventeen years old hewas taken into employment in the countinghouse of Mr. Roger Hartright,the well-known West India merchant, and Barnaby's own stepfather.

It was the kindness of this good man that not only found a place forBarnaby in the countinghouse, but advanced him so fast that against ourhero was twenty-one years old he had made four voyages as supercargo tothe West Indies in Mr. Hartright's ship, the Belle Helen, and soon afterhe was twenty-one undertook a fifth. Nor was it in any such subordinateposition as mere supercargo that he acted, but rather as theconfidential agent of Mr. Hartright, who, having no children of hisown, was very jealous to advance our hero into a position of trust andresponsibility in the countinghouse, as though he were indeed a son, sothat even the captain of the ship had scarcely more consideration aboardthan he, young as he was in years.

As for the agents and correspondents of Mr. Hartright throughout theseparts, they also, knowing how the good man had adopted his interests,were very polite and obliging to Master Barnaby—especially, be itmentioned, Mr. Ambrose Greenfield, of Kingston, Jamaica, who, upon theoccasions of his visits to those parts, did all that he could to makeBarnaby's stay in that town agreeable and pleasant to him.

So much for the history of our hero to the time of the beginning of thisstory, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purportof those most extraordinary adventures that befell him shortly after hecame of age, nor the logic of their consequence after they had occurred.

For it was during his fifth voyage to the West Indies that the first ofthose extraordinary adventures happened of which I shall have presentlyto tell.

At that time he had been in Kingston for the best part of four weeks,lodging at the house of a very decent, respectable widow, by name Mrs.Anne Bolles, who, with three pleasant and agreeable daughters, kept avery clean and well-served lodging house in the outskirts of the town.

One morning, as our hero sat sipping his coffee, clad only in loosecotton drawers, a shirt, and a jacket, and with slippers upon his feet,as is the custom in that country, where everyone endeavors to keep ascool as may be while he sat thus sipping his coffee Miss Eliza, theyoungest of the three daughters, came and gave him a note, which,she said, a stranger had just handed in at the door, going away againwithout waiting for a reply. You may judge of Barnaby's surprise when heopened the note and read as follows:

MR.  BARNABY TRUE.     SIR,—Though you don't know me, I know you, and I tell you     this: if you will be at Pratt's Ordinary on Harbor Street     on Friday next at eight o'clock of the evening, and will     accompany the man who shall say to you, "The Royal Sovereign     is come in," you shall learn something the most to your     advantage that ever befell you. Sir, keep this note, and     show it to him who shall address these words to you, so to     certify that you are the man he seeks.

Such was the wording of the note, which was without address, and withoutany superscription whatever.

The first emotion that stirred Barnaby was one of extreme and profoundamazement. Then the thought came into his mind that some witty fellow,of whom he knew a good many in that town—and wild, waggish pranks theywere was attempting to play off some smart jest upon him. But allthat Miss Eliza could tell him when he questioned her concerning themessenger was that the bearer of the note was a tall, stout man, witha red neckerchief around his neck and copper buckles to his shoes, andthat he had the appearance of a sailorman, having a great big queuehanging down his back. But, Lord! what was such a description as thatin a busy seaport town, full of scores of men to fit such a likeness?Accordingly, our hero put away the note into his wallet, determining toshow it to his good friend Mr. Greenfield that evening, and to ask hisadvice upon it. So he did show it, and that gentleman's opinion was thesame as his—that some wag was minded to play off a hoax upon him, andthat the matter of the letter was all nothing but smoke.

Nevertheless, though Barnaby was thus confirmed in his opinion as to thenature of the communication he had received, he yet determined in hisown mind that he would see the business through to the end, and would beat Pratt's Ordinary, as the note demanded, upon the day and at the timespecified therein.

Pratt's Ordinary was at that time a very fine and well-known place ofits sort, with good tobacco and the best rum that ever I tasted, and hada garden behind it that, sloping down to the harbor front, was plantedpretty thick with palms and ferns grouped into clusters with flowers andplants. Here were a number of little tables, some in little grottoes,like our Vauxhall in New York, and with red and blue and white paperlanterns hung among the foliage, whither gentlemen and ladies usedsometimes to go of an evening to sit and drink lime juice and sugar andwater (and sometimes a taste of something stronger), and to look outacross the water at the shipping in the cool of the night.

Thither, accordingly, our hero went, a little before the time appointedin the note, and passing directly through the Ordinary and the gardenbeyond, chose a table at the lower end of the garden and close to thewater's edge, where he would not be easily seen by anyone coming intothe place. Then, ordering some rum and water and a pipe of tobacco, hecomposed himself to watch for the appearance of those witty fellows whomhe suspected would presently come thither to see the end of their prankand to enjoy his confusion.

The spot was pleasant enough; for the land breeze, blowing strong andfull, set the leaves of the palm tree above his head to rattling andclattering continually against the sky, where, the moon then being aboutfull, they shone every now and then like blades of steel. The waves alsowere splashing up against the little landing place at the foot of thegarden, sounding very cool in the night, and sparkling all over theharbor where the moon caught the edges of the water. A great manyvessels were lying at anchor in their ridings, with the dark, prodigiousform of a man-of-war looming up above them in the moonlight.

There our hero sat for the best part of an hour, smoking his pipe oftobacco and sipping his grog, and seeing not so much as a single thingthat might concern the note he had received.

It was not far from half an hour after the time appointed in the note,when a rowboat came suddenly out of the night and pulled up to thelanding place at the foot of the garden above mentioned, and threeor four men came ashore in the darkness. Without saying a word amongthemselves they chose a near-by table and, sitting down, ordered rumand water, and began drinking their grog in silence. They might havesat there about five minutes, when, by and by, Barnaby True became awarethat they were observing him very curiously; and then almost immediatelyone, who was plainly the leader of the party, called out to him:

"How now, messmate! Won't you come and drink a dram of rum with us?"

"Why, no," says Barnaby, answering very civilly; "I have drunk enoughalready, and more would only heat my blood."

"All the same," quoth the stranger, "I think you will come and drinkwith us; for, unless I am mistook, you are Mr. Barnaby True, and I amcome here to tell you that the Royal Sovereign is come in."

Now I may honestly say that Barnaby True was never more struck aback inall his life than he was at hearing these words uttered in so unexpecteda manner. He had been looking to hear them under such differentcircumstances that, now that his ears heard them addressed to him, andthat so seriously, by a perfect stranger, who, with others, had thusmysteriously come ashore out of the darkness, he could scarce believethat his ears heard aright. His heart suddenly began beating at atremendous rate, and had he been an older and wiser man, I do believehe would have declined the adventure, instead of leaping blindly, ashe did, into that of which he could see neither the beginning nor theending. But being barely one-and-twenty years of age, and having anadventurous disposition that would have carried him into almost anythingthat possessed a smack of uncertainty or danger about it, he contrivedto say, in a pretty easy tone (though God knows how it was put on forthe occasion):

"Well, then, if that be so, and if the Royal Sovereign is indeedcome in, why, I'll join you, since you are so kind as to ask me." Andtherewith he went across to the other table, carrying his pipe with him,and sat down and began smoking, with all the appearance of ease he couldassume upon the occasion.

"Well, Mr. Barnaby True," said the man who had before addressed him, sosoon as Barnaby had settled himself, speaking in a low tone of voice,so there would be no danger of any others hearing the words—"Well, Mr.Barnaby True—for I shall call you by your name, to show you that thoughI know you, you don't know me I am glad to see that you are man enoughto enter thus into an affair, though you can't see to the bottom of it.For it shows me that you are a man of mettle, and are deserving of thefortune that is to befall you to-night. Nevertheless, first of all, Iam bid to say that you must show me a piece of paper that you have aboutyou before we go a step farther."

"Very well," said Barnaby; "I have it here safe and sound, and seeit you shall." And thereupon and without more ado he fetched out hiswallet, opened it, and handed his interlocutor the mysterious note hehad received the day or two before. Whereupon the other, drawing to himthe candle, burning there for the convenience of those who would smoketobacco, began immediately reading it.

This gave Barnaby True a moment or two to look at him. He was a tall,stout man, with a red handkerchief tied around his neck, and with copperbuckles on his shoes, so that Barnaby True could not but wonder whetherhe was not the very same man who had given the note to Miss Eliza Bollesat the door of his lodging house.

"'Tis all right and straight as it should be," the other said, after hehad so glanced his eyes over the note. "And now that the paper is read"(suiting his action to his words), "I'll just burn it, for safety'ssake."

And so he did, twisting it up and setting it to the flame of the candle.

"And now," he said, continuing his address, "I'll tell you what I amhere for. I was sent to ask you if you're man enough to take your lifein your own hands and to go with me in that boat down there? Say 'Yes,'and we'll start away without wasting more time, for the devil is ashorehere at Jamaica—though you don't know what that means—and if he getsahead of us, why, then we may whistle for what we are after. Say 'No,'and I go away again, and I promise you you shall never be troubled againin this sort. So now speak up plain, young gentleman, and tell uswhat is your mind in this business, and whether you will adventure anyfarther or not."

If our hero hesitated it was not for long. I cannot say that his couragedid not waver for a moment; but if it did, it was, I say, not for long,and when he spoke up it was with a voice as steady as could be.

"To be sure I'm man enough to go with you," he said; "and if you meanme any harm I can look out for myself; and if I can't, why, here issomething can look out for me," and therewith he lifted up the flap ofhis coat pocket and showed the butt of a pistol he had fetched with himwhen he had set out from his lodging house that evening.

At this the other burst out a-laughing. "Come," says he, "you are indeedof right mettle, and I like your spirit. All the same, no one in all theworld means you less ill than I, and so, if you have to use that barker,'twill not be upon us who are your friends, but only upon one who ismore wicked than the devil himself. So come, and let us get away."

Thereupon he and the others, who had not spoken a single word for allthis time, rose from the table, and he having paid the scores of all,they all went down together to the boat that still lay at the landingplace at the bottom of the garden.

Thus coming to it, our hero could see that it was a large yawl boatmanned with half a score of black men for rowers, and there were twolanterns in the stern sheets, and three or four iron shovels.

The man who had conducted the conversation with Barnaby True for allthis time, and who was, as has been said, plainly the captain of theparty, stepped immediately down into the boat; our hero followed, andthe others followed after him; and instantly they were seated the boatwas shoved off and the black men began pulling straight out into theharbor, and so, at some distance away, around under the stern of theman-of-war.

Not a word was spoken after they had thus left the shore, and presentlythey might all have been ghosts, for the silence of the party. BarnabyTrue was too full of his own thoughts to talk—and serious enoughthoughts they were by this time, with crimps to trepan a man at everyturn, and press gangs to carry a man off so that he might never be heardof again. As for the others, they did not seem to choose to say anythingnow that they had him fairly embarked upon their enterprise.

And so the crew pulled on in perfect silence for the best part of anhour, the leader of the expedition directing the course of the boatstraight across the harbor, as though toward the mouth of the Rio CobraRiver. Indeed, this was their destination, as Barnaby could after awhile see, by the low point of land with a great long row of coconutpalms upon it (the appearance of which he knew very well), which by andby began to loom up out of the milky dimness of the moonlight. As theyapproached the river they found the tide was running strong out ofit, so that some distance away from the stream it gurgled and rippledalongside the boat as the crew of black men pulled strongly againstit. Thus they came up under what was either a point of land or an isletcovered with a thick growth of mangrove trees. But still no one spoke asingle word as to their destination, or what was the business they hadin hand.

The night, now that they were close to the shore, was loud with thenoise of running tide-water, and the air was heavy with the smell of mudand marsh, and over all the whiteness of the moonlight, with a few starspricking out here and there in the sky; and all so strange and silentand mysterious that Barnaby could not divest himself of the feeling thatit was all a dream.

So, the rowers bending to the oars, the boat came slowly around fromunder the clump of mangrove bushes and out into the open water again.

Instantly it did so the leader of the expedition called out in a sharpvoice, and the black men instantly lay on their oars.

Almost at the same instant Barnaby True became aware that there wasanother boat coming down the river toward where they lay, now driftingwith the strong tide out into the harbor again, and he knew that it wasbecause of the approach of that boat that the other had called upon hismen to cease rowing.

The other boat, as well as he could see in the distance, was full ofmen, some of whom appeared to be armed, for even in the dusk of thedarkness the shine of the moonlight glimmered sharply now and then onthe barrels of muskets or pistols, and in the silence that followedafter their own rowing had ceased Barnaby True could hear the chug!chug! of the oars sounding louder and louder through the waterystillness of the night as the boat drew nearer and nearer. But he knewnothing of what it all meant, nor whether these others were friends orenemies, or what was to happen next.

The oarsmen of the approaching boat did not for a moment ceasetheir rowing, not till they had come pretty close to Barnaby and hiscompanions. Then a man who sat in the stern ordered them to ceaserowing, and as they lay on their oars he stood up. As they passed by,Barnaby True could see him very plain, the moonlight shining full uponhim—a large, stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a finelaced coat of red cloth. Amidship of the boat was a box or chest aboutthe bigness of a middle-sized traveling trunk, but covered all overwith cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing, the gentleman, stillstanding, pointed at it with an elegant gold-headed cane which he heldin his hand. "Are you come after this, Abraham Dawling?" says he, andthereat his countenance broke into as evil, malignant a grin as everBarnaby True saw in all of his life.

The other did not immediately reply so much as a single word, but satas still as any stone. Then, at last, the other boat having gone by, hesuddenly appeared to regain his wits, for he bawled out after it, "Verywell, Jack Malyoe! very well, Jack Malyoe! you've got ahead of us thistime again, but next time is the third, and then it shall be our turn,even if William Brand must come back from hell to settle with you."

This he shouted out as the other boat passed farther and farther away,but to it my fine gentleman made no reply except to burst out into agreat roaring fit of laughter.

There was another man among the armed men in the stern of the passingboat—a villainous, lean man with lantern jaws, and the top of his headas bald as the palm of my hand. As the boat went away into the nightwith the tide and the headway the oars had given it, he grinned so thatthe moonlight shone white on his big teeth. Then, flourishing a greatbig pistol, he said, and Barnaby could hear every word he spoke, "Do butgive me the word, Your Honor, and I'll put another bullet through theson of a sea cook."

But the gentleman said some words to forbid him, and therewith the boatwas gone away into the night, and presently Barnaby could hear thatthe 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 gonow?" he said.

At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back tohimself, and to find his voice again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to thedevil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again—that's where we'llgo!" and therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing until he foamed atthe lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men beganrowing back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oarsinto the water.

They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom house; but sobewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what hehad seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcelyconscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himselfthus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodginglike one drunk or bewildered; for "John Malyoe" was the name ofthe captain of the Adventure galley—he who had shot Barnaby's owngrandfather—and "Abraham Dawling" was the name of the gunner of theRoyal Sovereign who had been shot at the same time with the piratecaptain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staringsun by the murderers.

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

As for that box covered all over with mud, he could only guess at thattime what it contained and what the finding of it signified.

But of this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a singleliving soul what he had seen that night, but nursed it in his own mind,where it lay so big for a while that he could think of little or nothingelse for days after.

Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartright's correspondent and agent in these parts,lived in a fine brick house just out of the town, on the Mona Road,his family consisting of a wife and two daughters—brisk, lively youngladies with black hair and eyes, and very fine bright teeth that shonewhenever they laughed, and with a plenty to say for themselves. ThitherBarnaby True was often asked to a family dinner; and, indeed, it was apleasant home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarrowith the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains, while theyoung ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. Andoftentimes so it was strongly upon Barnaby's mind to speak to the goodgentleman and tell him what he had beheld that night out in the harbor;but always he would think better of it and hold his peace, falling tothinking, and smoking away upon his cigarro at a great rate.

A day or two before the Belle Helen sailed from Kingston Mr. Greenfieldstopped Barnaby True as he was going through the office to bid him tocome to dinner that night (for there within the tropics they breakfastat eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because ofthe heat, and not at midday, as we do in more temperate latitudes). "Iwould have you meet," says Mr. Greenfield, "your chief passenger forNew York, and his granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the twostaterooms are to be fitted as here ordered [showing a letter]—Sir JohnMalyoe and Miss Marjorie Malyoe. Did you ever hear tell of Capt. JackMalyoe, Master Barnaby?"

Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that oldCaptain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Capt. John Malyoehis murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name of that man, whatwith that in itself and the late adventure through which he himself hadjust passed, and with his brooding upon it until it was so prodigiouslybig in his mind, it was like hitting him a blow to so fling thequestions at him. Nevertheless, he was able to reply, with a prettystraight face, that he had heard of Captain Malyoe and who he was.

"Well," says Mr. Greenfield, "if Jack Malyoe was a desperate pirate anda wild, reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is Sir John Malyoe nowand the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire. Well, Master Barnaby, whenone is a baronet and come into the inheritance of a fine estate (thoughI do hear it is vastly cumbered with debts), the world will wink its eyeto much that he may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though,that his own kin still turn the cold shoulder to him."

To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at hiscigarro at a great rate.

And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first time withthe man who murdered his own grandfather—the greatest beast of a manthat ever he met in all of his life.

That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance andin the darkness; now that he beheld him near by it seemed to him that hehad never looked at a more evil face in all his life. Not that the manwas altogether ugly, for he had a good nose and a fine double chin; buthis eyes stood out like balls and were red and watery, and he winkedthem continually, as though they were always smarting; and his lipswere thick and purple-red, and his fat, red cheeks were mottled hereand there with little clots of purple veins; and when he spoke his voicerattled so in his throat that it made one wish to clear one's own throatto listen to him. So, what with a pair of fat, white hands, and thathoarse voice, and his swollen face, and his thick lips sticking out, itseemed to Barnaby True he had never seen a countenance so distasteful tohim as that one into which he then looked.

But if Sir John Malyoe was so displeasing to our hero's taste, why, thegranddaughter, even this first time he beheld her, seemed to him to bethe most beautiful, lovely young lady that ever he saw. She had a thin,fair skin, red lips, and yellow hair—though it was then powdered prettywhite for the occasion—and the bluest eyes that Barnaby beheld in allof his life. A sweet, timid creature, who seemed not to dare so much asto speak a word for herself without looking to Sir John for leave to doso, and would shrink and shudder whenever he would speak of a sudden toher or direct a sudden glance upon her. When she did speak, it was in solow a voice that one had to bend his head to hear her, and even if shesmiled would catch herself and look up as though to see if she had leaveto be cheerful.

As for Sir John, he sat at dinner like a pig, and gobbled and ate anddrank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a word to eitherher or Mrs. Greenfield or to Barnaby True; but with a sour, sullen air,as though he would say, "Your damned victuals and drink are no betterthan they should be, but I must eat 'em or nothing." A great bloatedbeast of a man!

Only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two misses sat offin a corner together did Barnaby hear her talk with any ease. Then, tobe sure, her tongue became loose, and she prattled away at a great rate,though hardly above her breath, until of a sudden her grandfather calledout, in his hoarse, rattling voice, that it was time to go. Whereuponshe stopped short in what she was saying and jumped up from her chair,looking as frightened as though she had been caught in something amiss,and was to be punished for it.

Barnaby True and Mr. Greenfield both went out to see the two into theircoach, where Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And who shouldhe be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with bald head who hadoffered to shoot the leader of our hero's expedition out on the harborthat night! For, one of the circles of light from the lantern shiningup into his face, Barnaby True knew him the moment he clapped eyes uponhim. Though he could not have recognized our hero, he grinned at him inthe most impudent, familiar fashion, and never so much as touched hishat either to him or to Mr. Greenfield; but as soon as his masterand his young mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door andscrambled up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without aword, but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnabyand the old gentleman.

Such were these two, master and man, and what Barnaby saw of them thenwas only confirmed by further observation—the most hateful couple heever knew; though, God knows, what they afterward suffered should wipeout all complaint against them.

The next day Sir John Malyoe's belongings began to come aboard the BelleHelen, and in the afternoon that same lean, villainous manservant comesskipping across the gangplank as nimble as a goat, with two black menbehind him lugging a great sea chest. "What!" he cried out, "and so youis the supercargo, is you? Why, I thought you was more account whenI saw you last night a-sitting talking with His Honor like his equal.Well, no matter; 'tis something to have a brisk, genteel young fellowfor a supercargo. So come, my hearty, lend a hand, will you, and help meset His Honor's cabin to rights."

What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow, to be sure! andBarnaby so high in his own esteem, and holding himself a gentleman!Well, what with his distaste for the villain, and what with such odiousfamiliarity, you can guess into what temper so impudent an address musthave cast him. "You'll find the steward in yonder," he said, "andhe'll show you the cabin," and therewith turned and walked away withprodigious dignity, leaving the other standing where he was.

As he entered his own cabin he could not but see, out of the tail of hiseye, that the fellow was still standing where he had left him, regardinghim with a most evil, malevolent countenance, so that he had thesatisfaction of knowing that he had made one enemy during that voyagewho was not very likely to forgive or forget what he must regard as aslight put upon him.

The next day Sir John Malyoe himself came aboard, accompanied by hisgranddaughter, and followed by this man, and he followed again by fourblack men, who carried among them two trunks, not large in size, butprodigious heavy in weight, and toward which Sir John and his followerdevoted the utmost solicitude and care to see that they were properlycarried into the state cabin he was to occupy. Barnaby True was standingin the great cabin as they passed close by him; but though Sir JohnMalyoe looked hard at him and straight in the face, he never so much asspoke a single word, or showed by a look or a sign that he knew who ourhero was. At this the serving man, who saw it all with eyes as quick asa cat's, fell to grinning and chuckling to see Barnaby in his turn soslighted.

The young lady, who also saw it all, flushed up red, then in the instantof passing looked straight at our hero, and bowed and smiled at him witha most sweet and gracious affability, then the next moment recoveringherself, as though mightily frightened at what she had done.

The same day the Belle Helen sailed, with as beautiful, sweet weather asever a body could wish for.

There were only two other passengers aboard, the Rev. Simon Styles, themaster of a flourishing academy in Spanish Town, and his wife, a good,worthy old couple, but very quiet, and would sit in the great cabin bythe hour together reading, so that, what with Sir John Malyoe stayingall the time in his own cabin with those two trunks he held so precious,it fell upon Barnaby True in great part to show attention to the younglady; and glad enough he was of the opportunity, as anyone may guess.For when you consider a brisk, lively young man of one-and-twenty and asweet, beautiful miss of seventeen so thrown together day after day fortwo weeks, the weather being very fair, as I have said, and the shiptossing and bowling along before a fine humming breeze that sent whitecaps all over the sea, and with nothing to do but sit and look at thatblue sea and the bright sky overhead, it is not hard to suppose what wasto befall, and what pleasure it was to Barnaby True to show attention toher.

But, oh! those days when a man is young, and, whether wisely or no,fallen in love! How often during that voyage did our hero lie awake inhis berth at night, tossing this way and that without sleep—not thathe wanted to sleep if he could, but would rather lie so awake thinkingabout her and staring into the darkness!

Poor fool! He might have known that the end must come to such a fool'sparadise before very long. For who was he to look up to Sir JohnMalyoe's granddaughter, he, the supercargo of a merchant ship, and shethe granddaughter of a baronet.

Nevertheless, things went along very smooth and pleasant, until oneevening, when all came of a sudden to an end. At that time he and theyoung lady had been standing for a long while together, leaning overthe rail and looking out across the water through the dusk toward thewestward, where the sky was still of a lingering brightness. She hadbeen mightily quiet and dull all that evening, but now of a sudden shebegan, without any preface whatever, to tell Barnaby about herself andher affairs. She said that she and her grandfather were going to NewYork that they might take passage thence to Boston town, there to meether cousin Captain Malyoe, who was stationed in garrison at that place.Then she went on to say that Captain Malyoe was the next heir to theDevonshire estate, and that she and he were to be married in the fall.

But, poor Barnaby! what a fool was he, to be sure! Methinks when shefirst began to speak about Captain Malyoe he knew what was coming. Butnow that she had told him, he could say nothing, but stood there staringacross the ocean, his breath coming hot and dry as ashes in his throat.She, poor thing, went on to say, in a very low voice, that she had likedhim from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happyfor these days, and would always think of him as a dear friend who hadbeen very kind to her, who had so little pleasure in life, and so wouldalways remember him.

Then they were both silent, until at last Barnaby made shift to say,though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malyoe must be avery happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malyoe's place he wouldbe the happiest man in the world. Thus, having spoken, and so found histongue, he went on to tell her, with his head all in a whirl, that he,too, loved her, and that what she had told him struck him to the heart,and made him the most miserable, unhappy wretch in the whole world.

She was not angry at what he said, nor did she turn to look at him, butonly said, in a low voice, he should not talk so, for that it could onlybe a pain to them both to speak of such things, and that whether shewould or no, she must do everything as her grandfather bade her, forthat he was indeed a terrible man.

To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all hisheart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he was nowthe most miserable man in the world.

It was at this moment, so tragic for him, that some one who had beenhiding nigh them all the while suddenly moved away, and Barnaby Truecould see in the gathering darkness that it was that villain manservantof Sir John Malyoe's and knew that he must have overheard all that hadbeen said.

The man went straight to the great cabin, and poor Barnaby, his brainall atingle, stood looking after him, feeling that now indeed the lastdrop of bitterness had been added to his trouble to have such a wretchoverhear what he had said.

The young lady could not have seen the fellow, for she continued leaningover the rail, and Barnaby True, standing at her side, not moving, butin such a tumult of many passions that he was like one bewildered, andhis heart beating as though to smother him.

So they stood for I know not how long when, of a sudden, Sir JohnMalyoe comes running out of the cabin, without his hat, but carrying hisgold-headed cane, and so straight across the deck to where Barnaby andthe young lady stood, that spying wretch close at his heels, grinninglike an imp.

"You hussy!" bawled out Sir John, so soon as he had come pretty nearthem, and in so loud a voice that all on deck might have heard thewords; and as he spoke he waved his cane back and forth as though hewould have struck the young lady, who, shrinking back almost upon thedeck, crouched as though to escape such a blow. "You hussy!" he bawledout with vile oaths, too horrible here to be set down. "What do you dohere with this Yankee supercargo, not fit for a gentlewoman to wipe herfeet upon? Get to your cabin, you hussy" (only it was something worse hecalled her this time), "before I lay this cane across your shoulders!"

What with the whirling of Barnaby's brains and the passion into which hewas already melted, what with his despair and his love, and his anger atthis address, a man gone mad could scarcely be less accountable for hisactions than was he at that moment. Hardly knowing what he did, he puthis hand against Sir John Malyoe's breast and thrust him violently back,crying out upon him in a great, loud, hoarse voice for threatening ayoung lady, and saying that for a farthing he would wrench the stick outof his hand and throw it overboard.

Sir John went staggering back with the push Barnaby gave him, and thencaught himself up again. Then, with a great bellow, ran roaring at ourhero, whirling his cane about, and I do believe would have struck him(and God knows then what might have happened) had not his manservantcaught him and held him back.

"Keep back!" cried out our hero, still mighty hoarse. "Keep back! If youstrike me with that stick I'll fling you overboard!"

By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping offeet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up, and the nextmoment Captain Manly and the first mate, Mr. Freesden, came running outof the cabin. But Barnaby, who was by this fairly set agoing, could notnow stop himself.

"And who are you, anyhow," he cried out, "to threaten to strike me andto insult me, who am as good as you? You dare not strike me! You mayshoot a man from behind, as you shot poor Captain Brand on the Rio CobraRiver, but you won't dare strike me face to face. I know who you are andwhat you are!"

By this time Sir John Malyoe had ceased to endeavor to strike him, butstood stock-still, his great bulging eyes staring as though they wouldpop out of his head.

"What's all this?" cries Captain Manly, bustling up to them with Mr.Freesden. "What does all this mean?"

But, as I have said, our hero was too far gone now to contain himselfuntil all that he had to say was out.

"The damned villain insulted me and insulted the young lady," he criedout, panting in the extremity of his passion, "and then he threatenedto strike me with his cane. But I know who he is and what he is. I knowwhat he's got in his cabin in those two trunks, and where he foundit, and whom it belongs to. He found it on the shores of the Rio CobraRiver, and I have only to open my mouth and tell what I know about it."

At this Captain Manly clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder and fellto shaking him so that he could scarcely stand, calling out to him thewhile to be silent. "What do you mean?" he cried. "An officer of thisship to quarrel with a passenger of mine! Go straight to your cabin, andstay there till I give you leave to come out again."

At this Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself and into hiswits again with a jump. "But he threatened to strike me with his cane,Captain," he cried out, "and that I won't stand from any man!"

"No matter what he did," said Captain Manly, very sternly. "Go to yourcabin, as I bid you, and stay there till I tell you to come out again,and when we get to New York I'll take pains to tell your stepfather ofhow you have behaved. I'll have no such rioting as this aboard my ship."

Barnaby True looked around him, but the young lady was gone. Nor, in theblindness of his frenzy, had he seen when she had gone nor whither shewent. As for Sir John Malyoe, he stood in the light of a lantern, hisface gone as white as ashes, and I do believe if a look could kill, thedreadful malevolent stare he fixed upon Barnaby True would have slainhim where he stood.

After Captain Manly had so shaken some wits into poor Barnaby he,unhappy wretch, went to his cabin, as he was bidden to do, and there,shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down, all dressedas he was, upon his berth, yielded himself over to the profoundestpassion of humiliation and despair.

There he lay for I know not how long, staring into the darkness, untilby and by, in spite of his suffering and his despair, he dozed off intoa loose sleep, that was more like waking than sleep, being possessedcontinually by the most vivid and distasteful dreams, from which hewould awaken only to doze off and to dream again.

It was from the midst of one of these extravagant dreams that he wassuddenly aroused by the noise of a pistol shot, and then the noise ofanother and another, and then a great bump and a grinding jar, and thenthe sound of many footsteps running across the deck and down into thegreat cabin. Then came a tremendous uproar of voices in the great cabin,the struggling as of men's bodies being tossed about, striking violentlyagainst the partitions and bulkheads. At the same instant arose ascreaming of women's voices, and one voice, and that Sir John Malyoe's,crying out as in the greatest extremity: "You villains! You damnedvillains!" and with the sudden detonation of a pistol fired into theclose space of the great cabin.

Barnaby was out in the middle of his cabin in a moment, and taking onlytime enough to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head ofhis berth, flung out into the great cabin, to find it as black as night,the lantern slung there having been either blown out or dashed out intodarkness. The prodigiously dark space was full of uproar, the hubbuband confusion pierced through and through by that keen sound of women'svoices screaming, one in the cabin and the other in the stateroombeyond. Almost immediately Barnaby pitched headlong over two or threestruggling men scuffling together upon the deck, falling with a greatclatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almostimmediately.

What all the uproar meant he could not tell, but he presently heardCaptain Manly's voice from somewhere suddenly calling out, "You bloodypirate, would you choke me to death?" wherewith some notion of what hadhappened came to him like a dash, and that they had been attacked in thenight by pirates.

Looking toward the companionway, he saw, outlined against the darknessof the night without, the blacker form of a man's figure, standing stilland motionless as a statue in the midst of all this hubbub, and so bysome instinct he knew in a moment that that must be the master makerof all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, hecovered the bosom of that shadowy figure pointblank, as he thought, withhis pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger.

In the flash of red light, and in the instant stunning report of thepistol shot, Barnaby saw, as stamped upon the blackness, a broad, flatface with fishy eyes, a lean, bony forehead with what appeared to bea great blotch of blood upon the side, a cocked hat trimmed with goldlace, a red scarf across the breast, and the gleam of brass buttons.Then the darkness, very thick and black, swallowed everything again.

But in the instant Sir John Malyoe called out, in a great loud voice:"My God! 'Tis William Brand!" Therewith came the sound of some onefalling heavily down.

The next moment, Barnaby's sight coming back to him again in thedarkness, he beheld that dark and motionless figure still standingexactly where it had stood before, and so knew either that he had missedit or else that it was of so supernatural a sort that a leaden bulletmight do it no harm. Though if it was indeed an apparition that Barnabybeheld in that moment, there is this to say, that he saw it as plain asever he saw a living man in all of his life.

This was the last our hero knew, for the next moment somebody—whetherby accident or design he never knew—struck him such a terrible violentblow upon the side of the head that he saw forty thousand stars flashbefore his eyeballs, and then, with a great humming in his head, swooneddead away.

When Barnaby True came back to his senses again it was to find himselfbeing cared for with great skill and nicety, his head bathed with coldwater, and a bandage being bound about it as carefully as though achirurgeon was attending to him.

He could not immediately recall what had happened to him, nor until hehad opened his eyes to find himself in a strange cabin, extremely wellfitted and painted with white and gold, the light of a lantern shiningin his eyes, together with the gray of the early daylight through thedead-eye. Two men were bending over him—one, a negro in a stripedshirt, with a yellow handkerchief around his head and silver earrings inhis ears; the other, a white man, clad in a strange outlandish dress ofa foreign make, and with great mustachios hanging down, and with goldearrings in his ears.

It was the latter who was attending to Barnaby's hurt with such extremecare and gentleness.

All this Barnaby saw with his first clear consciousness after his swoon.Then remembering what had befallen him, and his head beating as thoughit would split asunder, he shut his eyes again, contriving with greateffort to keep himself from groaning aloud, and wondering as to whatsort of pirates these could be who would first knock a man in the headso terrible a blow as that which he had suffered, and then takesuch care to fetch him back to life again, and to make him easy andcomfortable.

Nor did he open his eyes again, but lay there gathering his witstogether and wondering thus until the bandage was properly tied abouthis head and sewed together. Then once more he opened his eyes, andlooked up to ask where he was.

Either they who were attending to him did not choose to reply, or elsethey could not speak English, for they made no answer, excepting bysigns; for the white man, seeing that he was now able to speak, andso was come back into his senses again, nodded his head three or fourtimes, and smiled with a grin of his white teeth, and then pointed, asthough toward a saloon beyond. At the same time the negro held up ourhero's coat and beckoned for him to put it on, so that Barnaby, seeingthat it was required of him to meet some one without, arose, though witha good deal of effort, and permitted the negro to help him on with hiscoat, still feeling mightily dizzy and uncertain upon his legs, his headbeating fit to split, and the vessel rolling and pitching at a greatrate, as though upon a heavy ground swell.

So, still sick and dizzy, he went out into what was indeed a fine saloonbeyond, painted in white and gilt like the cabin he had just quitted,and fitted in the nicest fashion, a mahogany table, polished verybright, extending the length of the room, and a quantity of bottles,together with glasses of clear crystal, arranged in a hanging rackabove.

Here at the table a man was sitting with his back to our hero, clad ina rough pea-jacket, and with a red handkerchief tied around his throat,his feet stretched out before him, and he smoking a pipe of tobacco withall the ease and comfort in the world.

As Barnaby came in he turned round, and, to the profound astonishmentof our hero, presented toward him in the light of the lantern, the dawnshining pretty strong through the skylight, the face of that very manwho had conducted the mysterious expedition that night across KingstonHarbor to the Rio Cobra River.

This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for a moment or two, andthen burst out laughing; and, indeed, Barnaby, standing there with thebandage about his head, must have looked a very droll picture of thatastonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate intowhose hands he had fallen.

"Well," says the other, "and so you be up at last, and no great harmdone, I'll be bound. And how does your head feel by now, my youngmaster?"

To this Barnaby made no reply, but, what with wonder and the dizzinessof his head, seated himself at the table over against the speaker,who pushed a bottle of rum toward him, together with a glass from theswinging shelf above.

He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so beganimmediately by saying: "I do suppose you think you were treatedmightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were treated illenough—though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more thana child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but thereis this much to say, and of that you may believe me, that nothing wasmeant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all youwill believe that well enough."

Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips,went on again with what he had to say. "Do you remember," said he, "thatexpedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balkedthat night?"

"Why, yes," said Barnaby True, "nor am I likely to forget it."

"And do you remember what I said to that villain, Jack Malyoe, thatnight as his boat went by us?"

"As to that," said Barnaby True, "I do not know that I can say yes orno, but if you will tell me, I will maybe answer you in kind."

"Why, I mean this," said the other. "I said that the villain had got thebetter of us once again, but that next time it would be our turn, evenif William Brand himself had to come back from hell to put the businessthrough."

"I remember something of the sort," said Barnaby, "now that you speak ofit, but still I am all in the dark as to what you are driving at."

The other looked at him very cunningly for a little while, his head onone side, and his eyes half shut. Then, as if satisfied, he suddenlyburst out laughing. "Look hither," said he, "and I'll show yousomething," and therewith, moving to one side, disclosed a couple oftraveling cases or small trunks with brass studs, so exactly like thosethat Sir John Malyoe had fetched aboard at Jamaica that Barnaby, puttingthis and that together, knew that they must be the same.

Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what those two casescontained, and his suspicions had become a certainty when he saw SirJohn Malyoe struck all white at being threatened about them, and hisface lowering so malevolently as to look murder had he dared do it. But,Lord! what were suspicions or even certainty to what Barnaby True's twoeyes beheld when that man lifted the lids of the two cases—the locksthereof having already been forced—and, flinging back first one lid andthen the other, displayed to Barnaby's astonished sight a great treasureof gold and silver! Most of it tied up in leathern bags, to be sure,but many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose andscattered about like so many beans, brimming the cases to the very top.

Barnaby sat dumb-struck at what he beheld; as to whether he breathedor no, I cannot tell; but this I know, that he sat staring at thatmarvelous treasure like a man in a trance, until, after a few seconds ofthis golden display, the other banged down the lids again and burst outlaughing, whereupon he came back to himself with a jump.

"Well, and what do you think of that?" said the other. "Is it not enoughfor a man to turn pirate for? But," he continued, "it is not for thesake of showing you this that I have been waiting for you here so longa while, but to tell you that you are not the only passenger aboard, butthat there is another, whom I am to confide to your care and attention,according to orders I have received; so, if you are ready, MasterBarnaby, I'll fetch her in directly." He waited for a moment, as thoughfor Barnaby to speak, but our hero not replying, he arose and, puttingaway the bottle of rum and the glasses, crossed the saloon to a doorlike that from which Barnaby had come a little while before. This heopened, and after a moment's delay and a few words spoken to some onewithin, ushered thence a young lady, who came out very slowly into thesaloon where Barnaby still sat at the table.

It was Miss Marjorie Malyoe, very white, and looking as though stunnedor bewildered by all that had befallen her.

Barnaby True could never tell whether the amazing strange voyage thatfollowed was of long or of short duration; whether it occupied threedays or ten days. For conceive, if you choose, two people of fleshand blood moving and living continually in all the circumstances andsurroundings as of a nightmare dream, yet they two so happy togetherthat all the universe beside was of no moment to them! How was anyoneto tell whether in such circumstances any time appeared to be long orshort? Does a dream appear to be long or to be short?

The vessel in which they sailed was a brigantine of good size and build,but manned by a considerable crew, the most strange and outlandish intheir appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld—some white, some yellow,some black, and all tricked out with gay colors, and gold earringsin their ears, and some with great long mustachios, and others withhandkerchiefs tied around their heads, and all talking a languagetogether of which Barnaby True could understand not a single word, butwhich might have been Portuguese from one or two phrases he caught. Nordid this strange, mysterious crew, of God knows what sort of men, seemto pay any attention whatever to Barnaby or to the young lady. Theymight now and then have looked at him and her out of the corners oftheir yellow eyes, but that was all; otherwise they were indeed likethe creatures of a nightmare dream. Only he who was the captain ofthis outlandish crew would maybe speak to Barnaby a few words as to theweather or what not when he would come down into the saloon to mix aglass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco, and then to go on deckagain about his business. Otherwise our hero and the young lady wereleft to themselves, to do as they pleased, with no one to interfere withthem.

As for her, she at no time showed any great sign of terror or of fear,only for a little while was singularly numb and quiet, as though dazedwith what had happened to her. Indeed, methinks that wild beast, hergrandfather, had so crushed her spirit by his tyranny and his violencethat nothing that happened to her might seem sharp and keen, as it doesto others of an ordinary sort.

But this was only at first, for afterward her face began to growsingularly clear, as with a white light, and she would sit quite still,permitting Barnaby to gaze, I know not how long, into her eyes, her faceso transfigured and her lips smiling, and they, as it were, neitherof them breathing, but hearing, as in another far-distant place, theoutlandish jargon of the crew talking together in the warm, brightsunlight, or the sound of creaking block and tackle as they hauled uponthe sheets.

Is it, then, any wonder that Barnaby True could never remember whethersuch a voyage as this was long or short?

It was as though they might have sailed so upon that wonderful voyageforever. You may guess how amazed was Barnaby True when, coming upondeck one morning, he found the brigantine riding upon an even keel,at anchor off Staten Island, a small village on the shore, and thewell-known roofs and chimneys of New York town in plain sight across thewater.

'Twas the last place in the world he had expected to see.

And, indeed, it did seem strange to lie there alongside Staten Islandall that day, with New York town so nigh at hand and yet so impossibleto reach. For whether he desired to escape or no, Barnaby True could notbut observe that both he and the young lady were so closely watched thatthey might as well have been prisoners, tied hand and foot and laid inthe hold, so far as any hope of getting away was concerned.

All that day there was a deal of mysterious coming and going aboardthe brigantine, and in the afternoon a sailboat went up to the town,carrying the captain, and a great load covered over with a tarpaulin inthe stern. What was so taken up to the town Barnaby did not then guess,but the boat did not return again till about sundown.

For the sun was just dropping below the water when the captain cameaboard once more and, finding Barnaby on deck, bade him come down intothe saloon, where they found the young lady sitting, the broad light ofthe evening shining in through the skylight, and making it all prettybright within.

The captain commanded Barnaby to be seated, for he had something ofmoment to say to him; whereupon, as soon as Barnaby had taken hisplace alongside the young lady, he began very seriously, with a prefacesomewhat thus: "Though you may think me the captain of this brigantine,young gentleman, I am not really so, but am under orders, and so haveonly carried out those orders of a superior in all these things that Ihave done." Having so begun, he went on to say that there was one thingyet remaining for him to do, and that the greatest thing of all. He saidthat Barnaby and the young lady had not been fetched away from the BelleHelen as they were by any mere chance of accident, but that 'twas all aplan laid by a head wiser than his, and carried out by one whom he mustobey in all things. He said that he hoped that both Barnaby and theyoung lady would perform willingly what they would be now called uponto do, but that whether they did it willingly or no, they must, for thatthose were the orders of one who was not to be disobeyed.

You may guess how our hero held his breath at all this; but whatevermight have been his expectations, the very wildest of them all did notreach to that which was demanded of him. "My orders are these," said theother, continuing: "I am to take you and the young lady ashore, and tosee that you are married before I quit you; and to that end a verygood, decent, honest minister who lives ashore yonder in the village waschosen and hath been spoken to and is now, no doubt, waiting for you tocome. Such are my orders, and this is the last thing I am set to do; sonow I will leave you alone together for five minutes to talk it over,but be quick about it, for whether willing or not, this thing must bedone."

Thereupon he went away, as he had promised, leaving those two alonetogether, Barnaby like one turned into stone, and the young lady, herface turned away, flaming as red as fire in the fading light.

Nor can I tell what Barnaby said to her, nor what words he used, butonly, all in a tumult, with neither beginning nor end he told her thatGod knew he loved her, and that with all his heart and soul, and thatthere was nothing in all the world for him but her; but, nevertheless,if she would not have it as had been ordered, and if she were notwilling to marry him as she was bidden to do, he would rather diethan lend himself to forcing her to do such a thing against her will.Nevertheless, he told her she must speak up and tell him yes or no, andthat God knew he would give all the world if she would say "yes."

All this and more he said in such a tumult of words that there was noorder in their speaking, and she sitting there, her bosom rising andfalling as though her breath stifled her. Nor may I tell what shereplied to him, only this, that she said she would marry him. At this hetook her into his arms and set his lips to hers, his heart all meltingaway in his bosom.

So presently came the captain back into the saloon again, to findBarnaby sitting there holding her hand, she with her face turned away,and his heart beating like a trip hammer, and so saw that all wassettled as he would have it. Wherewith he wished them both joy, and gaveBarnaby his hand.

The yawlboat belonging to the brigantine was ready and waiting alongsidewhen they came upon deck, and immediately they descended to it and tooktheir seats. So they landed, and in a little while were walking up thevillage street in the darkness, she clinging to his arm as though shewould swoon, and the captain of the brigantine and two other men fromaboard following after them. And so to the minister's house, finding himwaiting for them, smoking his pipe in the warm evening, and walking upand down in front of his own door. He immediately conducted them intothe house, where, his wife having fetched a candle, and two othersof the village folk being present, the good man having asked severalquestions as to their names and their age and where they were from,the ceremony was performed, and the certificate duly signed by thosepresent—excepting the men who had come ashore from the brigantine, andwho refused to set their hands to any paper.

The same sailboat that had taken the captain up to the town in theafternoon was waiting for them at the landing place, whence, thecaptain, having wished them Godspeed, and having shaken Barnaby veryheartily by the hand, they pushed off, and, coming about, ran away withthe slant of the wind, dropping the shore and those strange beings alikebehind them into the night.

As they sped away through the darkness they could hear the creaking ofthe sails being hoisted aboard of the brigantine, and so knew that shewas about to put to sea once more. Nor did Barnaby True ever set eyesupon those beings again, nor did anyone else that I ever heard tell of.

It was nigh midnight when they made Mr. Hartright's wharf at the foot ofWall Street, and so the streets were all dark and silent and deserted asthey walked up to Barnaby's home.

You may conceive of the wonder and amazement of Barnaby's dearstepfather when, clad in a dressing gown and carrying a lighted candlein his hand, he unlocked and unbarred the door, and so saw who itwas had aroused him at such an hour of the night, and the young andbeautiful lady whom Barnaby had fetched with him.

The first thought of the good man was that the Belle Helen had come intoport; nor did Barnaby undeceive him as he led the way into the house,but waited until they were all safe and sound in privily together beforehe should unfold his strange and wonderful story.

"This was left for you by two foreign sailors this afternoon, Barnaby,"the good old man said, as he led the way through the hall, holding upthe candle at the same time, so that Barnaby might see an object thatstood against the wainscoting by the door of the dining room.

Nor could Barnaby refrain from crying out with amazement when he sawthat it was one of the two chests of treasure that Sir John Malyoe hadfetched from Jamaica, and which the pirates had taken from the BelleHelen. As for Mr. Hartright, he guessed no more what was in it than theman in the moon.

The next day but one brought the Belle Helen herself into port, with theterrible news not only of having been attacked at night by pirates, butalso that Sir John Malyoe was dead. For whether it was the sudden shockof the sight of his old captain's face—whom he himself had murderedand thought dead and buried—flashing so out against the darkness, orwhether it was the strain of passion that overset his brains, certainit is that when the pirates left the Belle Helen, carrying with them theyoung lady and Barnaby and the traveling trunks, those left aboardthe Belle Helen found Sir John Malyoe lying in a fit upon the floor,frothing at the mouth and black in the face, as though he had beenchoked, and so took him away to his berth, where, the next morning aboutten o'clock, he died, without once having opened his eyes or spoken asingle word.

As for the villain manservant, no one ever saw him afterward; thoughwhether he jumped overboard, or whether the pirates who so attacked theship had carried him away bodily, who shall say?

Mr. Hartright, after he had heard Barnaby's story, had been veryuncertain as to the ownership of the chest of treasure that had beenleft by those men for Barnaby, but the news of the death of Sir JohnMalyoe made the matter very easy for him to decide. For surely if thattreasure did not belong to Barnaby, there could be no doubt that it mustbelong to his wife, she being Sir John Malyoe's legal heir. And so itwas that that great fortune (in actual computation amounting to upwardof sixty-three thousand pounds) came to Barnaby True, the grandson ofthat famous pirate, William Brand; the English estate in Devonshire, indefault of male issue of Sir John Malyoe, descended to Captain Malyoe,whom the young lady was to have married.

As for the other case of treasure, it was never heard of again, norcould Barnaby ever guess whether it was divided as booty among thepirates, or whether they had carried it away with them to some strangeand foreign land, there to share it among themselves.

And so the ending of the story, with only this to observe, that whetherthat strange appearance of Captain Brand's face by the light of thepistol was a ghostly and spiritual appearance, or whether he was presentin flesh and blood, there is only to say that he was never heard ofagain; nor had he ever been heard of till that time since the day he wasso shot from behind by Capt. John Malyoe on the banks of the Rio CobraRiver in the year 1733.

Chapter III. WITH THE BUCCANEERS

Being an Account of Certain Adventures that Befell Henry Mostyn UnderCapt. H. Morgan in the Year 1665-66

I.

ALTHOUGH this narration has more particularly to do with the taking ofthe Spanish vice admiral in the harbor of Porto Bello, and of the rescuetherefrom of Le Sieur Simon, his wife and daughter (the adventureof which was successfully achieved by Captain Morgan, the famousbuccaneer), we shall, nevertheless, premise something of the earlierhistory of Master Harry Mostyn, whom you may, if you please, consider asthe hero of the several circumstances recounted in these pages.

In the year 1664 our hero's father embarked from Portsmouth, in England,for the Barbados, where he owned a considerable sugar plantation.Thither to those parts of America he transported with himself his wholefamily, of whom our Master Harry was the fifth of eight children—agreat lusty fellow as little fitted for the Church (for which he wasdesigned) as could be. At the time of this story, though not abovesixteen years old, Master Harry Mostyn was as big and well-grown as manya man of twenty, and of such a reckless and dare-devil spirit that noadventure was too dangerous or too mischievous for him to embark upon.

At this time there was a deal of talk in those parts of the Americasconcerning Captain Morgan, and the prodigious successes he was havingpirating against the Spaniards.

This man had once been an indentured servant with Mr. Rolls, a sugarfactor at the Barbados. Having served out his time, and being of lawlessdisposition, possessing also a prodigious appetite for adventure, hejoined with others of his kidney, and, purchasing a caravel of threeguns, embarked fairly upon that career of piracy the most successfulthat ever was heard of in the world.

Master Harry had known this man very well while he was still with Mr.Rolls, serving as a clerk at that gentleman's sugar wharf, a tall,broad-shouldered, strapping fellow, with red cheeks, and thick red lips,and rolling blue eyes, and hair as red as any chestnut. Many knew himfor a bold, gruff-spoken man, but no one at that time suspected that hehad it in him to become so famous and renowned as he afterward grew tobe.

The fame of his exploits had been the talk of those parts for above atwelvemonth, when, in the latter part of the year 1665, Captain Morgan,having made a very successful expedition against the Spaniards into theGulf of Campeche—where he took several important purchases fromthe plate fleet—came to the Barbados, there to fit out another suchventure, and to enlist recruits.

He and certain other adventurers had purchased a vessel of some fivehundred tons, which they proposed to convert into a pirate by cuttingportholes for cannon, and running three or four carronades acrossher main deck. The name of this ship, be it mentioned, was the GoodSamaritan, as ill-fitting a name as could be for such a craft, which,instead of being designed for the healing of wounds, was intended toinflict such devastation as those wicked men proposed.

Here was a piece of mischief exactly fitted to our hero's tastes;wherefore, having made up a bundle of clothes, and with not above ashilling in his pocket, he made an excursion into the town to seekfor Captain Morgan. There he found the great pirate established at anordinary, with a little court of ragamuffins and swashbucklers gatheredabout him, all talking very loud, and drinking healths in raw rum asthough it were sugared water.

And what a fine figure our buccaneer had grown, to be sure! Howdifferent from the poor, humble clerk upon the sugar wharf! What a dealof gold braid! What a fine, silver-hilled Spanish sword! What a gayvelvet sling, hung with three silver-mounted pistols! If Master Harry'smind had not been made up before, to be sure such a spectacle of glorywould have determined it.

This figure of war our hero asked to step aside with him, and when theyhad come into a corner, proposed to the other what he intended, and thathe had a mind to enlist as a gentleman adventurer upon this expedition.Upon this our rogue of a buccaneer captain burst out a-laughing, andfetching Master Harry a great thump upon the back, swore roundly that hewould make a man of him, and that it was a pity to make a parson out ofso good a piece of stuff.

Nor was Captain Morgan less good than his word, for when the GoodSamaritan set sail with a favoring wind for the island of Jamaica,Master Harry found himself established as one of the adventurers aboard.

II

Could you but have seen the town of Port Royal as it appeared in theyear 1665 you would have beheld a sight very well worth while lookingupon. There were no fine houses at that time, and no great countinghouses built of brick, such as you may find nowadays, but a crowd ofboard and wattled huts huddled along the streets, and all so gay withflags and bits of color that Vanity Fair itself could not have beengayer. To this place came all the pirates and buccaneers that infestedthose parts, and men shouted and swore and gambled, and poured out moneylike water, and then maybe wound up their merrymaking by dying of fever.For the sky in these torrid latitudes is all full of clouds overhead,and as hot as any blanket, and when the sun shone forth it streamed downupon the smoking sands so that the houses were ovens and the streetswere furnaces; so it was little wonder that men died like rats in ahole. But little they appeared to care for that; so that everywhere youmight behold a multitude of painted women and Jews and merchants andpirates, gaudy with red scarfs and gold braid and all sorts of odds andends of foolish finery, all fighting and gambling and bartering for thatill-gotten treasure of the be-robbed Spaniard.

Here, arriving, Captain Morgan found a hearty welcome, and a messagefrom the governor awaiting him, the message bidding him attend HisExcellency upon the earliest occasion that offered. Whereupon, takingour hero (of whom he had grown prodigiously fond) along with him, ourpirate went, without any loss of time, to visit Sir Thomas Modiford, whowas then the royal governor of all this devil's brew of wickedness.

They found His Excellency seated in a great easy-chair, under the shadowof a slatted veranda, the floor whereof was paved with brick. Hewas clad, for the sake of coolness, only in his shirt, breeches, andstockings, and he wore slippers on his feet. He was smoking a greatcigarro of tobacco, and a goblet of lime juice and water and rum stoodat his elbow on a table. Here, out of the glare of the heat, it was allvery cool and pleasant, with a sea breeze blowing violently in throughthe slats, setting them a-rattling now and then, and stirring SirThomas's long hair, which he had pushed back for the sake of coolness.

The purport of this interview, I may tell you, concerned the rescue ofone Le Sieur Simon, who, together with his wife and daughter, was heldcaptive by the Spaniards.

This gentleman adventurer (Le Sieur Simon) had, a few years before, beenset up by the buccaneers as governor of the island of Santa Catharina.This place, though well fortified by the Spaniards, the buccaneershad seized upon, establishing themselves thereon, and so infesting thecommerce of those seas that no Spanish fleet was safe from them. At lastthe Spaniards, no longer able to endure these assaults against theircommerce, sent a great force against the freebooters to drive them outof their island stronghold. This they did, retaking Santa Catharina,together with its governor, his wife, and daughter, as well as the wholegarrison of buccaneers.

This garrison was sent by their conquerors, some to the galleys, someto the mines, some to no man knows where. The governor himself—Le SieurSimon—was to be sent to Spain, there to stand his trial for piracy.

The news of all this, I may tell you, had only just been received inJamaica, having been brought thither by a Spanish captain, one DonRoderiguez Sylvia, who was, besides, the bearer of dispatches to theSpanish authorities relating the whole affair.

Such, in fine, was the purport of this interview, and as our heroand his captain walked back together from the governor's house to theordinary where they had taken up their inn, the buccaneer assured hiscompanion that he purposed to obtain those dispatches from the Spanishcaptain that very afternoon, even if he had to use force to seize them.

All this, you are to understand, was undertaken only because of thefriendship that the governor and Captain Morgan entertained for Le SieurSimon. And, indeed, it was wonderful how honest and how faithful werethese wicked men in their dealings with one another. For you must knowthat Governor Modiford and Le Sieur Simon and the buccaneers were all ofone kidney—all taking a share in the piracies of those times, and allholding by one another as though they were the honestest men in theworld. Hence it was they were all so determined to rescue Le Sieur Simonfrom the Spaniards.

III

Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the governor,Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as usuallygathered at that place to be in attendance upon him—some, thosebelonging to the Good Samaritan; others, those who hoped to obtainbenefits from him; others, those ragamuffins who gathered around himbecause he was famous, and because it pleased them to be of his courtand to be called his followers. For nearly always your successful piratehad such a little court surrounding him.

Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain Morganinformed them of his present purpose that he was going to find theSpanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon them toaccompany him.

With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down thestreet, his lieutenant, a Cornishman named Bartholomew Davis, upon onehand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for thebest part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For whetherhe had got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him, or whether,finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had buried himselfin some place of hiding, it is certain that the buccaneers had traversedpretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that he was lyingat a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither they went, andthither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost coolness and composure ofdemeanor, his followers crowding noisily in at his heels.

The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway and bytwo large slatted windows or openings in the front.

In this dark, hot place not over-roomy at the best—were gathered twelveor fifteen villainous-appearing men, sitting at tables and drinkingtogether, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no troublein discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia, for notonly did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but theSpaniard was clad with more particularity and with more show of finerythan any of the others who were there.

Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers, whereunto theother replied with such a jabber of Spanish and English that no mancould have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turnreplied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost himto obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and presentedit at the other's head.

At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell a-screaming, andthe Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down abouthis ears.

Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a suddenthere was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere,and then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like onestunned, hearing some one crying out in a loud voice, but not knowingwhether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another pistolshot so deafened what was left of Master Harry's hearing that his earsrang for above an hour afterward. By this time the whole place wasfull of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows and oaths andoutcrying and the clashing of knives.

As Master Harry, who had no great stomach for such a combat, and no veryparticular interest in the quarrel, was making for the door, a littlePortuguese, as withered and as nimble as an ape, came ducking under thetable and plunged at his stomach with a great long knife, which, hadit effected its object, would surely have ended his adventures then andthere. Finding himself in such danger, Master Harry snatched up a heavychair, and, flinging it at his enemy, who was preparing for anotherattack, he fairly ran for it out of the door, expecting every instant tofeel the thrust of the blade betwixt his ribs.

A considerable crowd had gathered outside, and others, hearing theuproar, were coming running to join them. With these our hero stood,trembling like a leaf, and with cold chills running up and down his backlike water at the narrow escape from the danger that had threatened him.

Nor shall you think him a coward, for you must remember he was hardlysixteen years old at the time, and that this was the first affair of thesort he had encountered. Afterward, as you shall learn, he showed thathe could exhibit courage enough at a pinch.

While he stood there, endeavoring to recover his composure, the whilethe tumult continued within, suddenly two men came running almosttogether out of the door, a crowd of the combatants at their heels. Thefirst of these men was Captain Sylvia; the other, who was pursuing him,was Captain Morgan.

As the crowd about the door parted before the sudden appearing of these,the Spanish captain, perceiving, as he supposed, a way of escape openedto him, darted across the street with incredible swiftness toward analleyway upon the other side. Upon this, seeing his prey like to getaway from him, Captain Morgan snatched a pistol out of his sling, andresting it for an instant across his arm, fired at the flying Spaniard,and that with so true an aim that, though the street was now full ofpeople, the other went tumbling over and over all of a heap in thekennel, where he lay, after a twitch or two, as still as a log.

At the sound of the shot and the fall of the man the crowd scatteredupon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus prettyclear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, hissmoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at hisheels.

Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed thus in an instantwho a moment before had been so full of life and activity, for whenCaptain Morgan turned the body over upon its back he could perceive at aglance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone-dead.And, indeed, it was a dreadful sight for him who was hardly more thana child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at thedead face with twitching fingers and shuddering limbs. Meantime a greatcrowd was gathering about them again. As for Captain Morgan, he wentabout his work with the utmost coolness and deliberation imaginable,unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of the man he had murdered withfingers that neither twitched nor shook. There were a gold cross anda bunch of silver medals hung by a whipcord about the neck of the deadman. This Captain Morgan broke away with a snap, reaching the jinglingbaubles to Harry, who took them in his nerveless hand and fingers thathe could hardly close upon what they held.

The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast pocket ofthe Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding themto his satisfaction, tied them up again, and slipped the wallet and itscontents into his own pocket.

Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who,indeed, must have been standing, the perfect picture of horror anddismay. Whereupon, bursting out a-laughing, and slipping the pistol hehad used back into its sling again, he fetched poor Harry a great slapupon the back, bidding him be a man, for that he would see many suchsights as this.

But indeed, it was no laughing matter for poor Master Harry, for it wasmany a day before his imagination could rid itself of the image of thedead Spaniard's face; and as he walked away down the street with hiscompanions, leaving the crowd behind them, and the dead body where itlay for its friends to look after, his ears humming and ringing fromthe deafening noise of the pistol shots fired in the close room, and thesweat trickling down his face in drops, he knew not whether all thathad passed had been real, or whether it was a dream from which he mightpresently awaken.

IV

The papers Captain Morgan had thus seized upon as the fruit of themurder he had committed must have been as perfectly satisfactory to himas could be, for having paid a second visit that evening to GovernorModiford, the pirate lifted anchor the next morning and made sail towardthe Gulf of Darien. There, after cruising about in those waters forabout a fortnight without falling in with a vessel of any sort, at theend of that time they overhauled a caravel bound from Porto Bello toCartagena, which vessel they took, and finding her loaded with nothingbetter than raw hides, scuttled and sank her, being then about twentyleagues from the main of Cartagena. From the captain of this vesselthey learned that the plate fleet was then lying in the harbor of PortoBello, not yet having set sail thence, but waiting for the change of thewinds before embarking for Spain. Besides this, which was a good dealmore to their purpose, the Spaniards told the pirates that the SieurSimon, his wife, and daughter were confined aboard the vice admiral ofthat fleet, and that the name of the vice admiral was the Santa Maria yValladolid.

So soon as Captain Morgan had obtained the information he desired hedirected his course straight for the Bay of Santo Blaso, where he mightlie safely within the cape of that name without any danger of discovery(that part of the mainland being entirely uninhabited) and yet be withintwenty or twenty-five leagues of Porto Bello.

Having come safely to this anchorage, he at once declared his intentionsto his companions, which were as follows:

That it was entirely impossible for them to hope to sail their vesselinto the harbor of Porto Bello, and to attack the Spanish vice admiralwhere he lay in the midst of the armed flota; wherefore, if anything wasto be accomplished, it must be undertaken by some subtle design ratherthan by open-handed boldness. Having so prefaced what he had to say, henow declared that it was his purpose to take one of the ship's boats andto go in that to Porto Bello, trusting for some opportunity to occur toaid him either in the accomplishment of his aims or in the gaining ofsome further information. Having thus delivered himself, he invited anywho dared to do so to volunteer for the expedition, telling them plainlythat he would constrain no man to go against his will, for that at bestit was a desperate enterprise, possessing only the recommendation thatin its achievement the few who undertook it would gain great renown, andperhaps a very considerable booty.

And such was the incredible influence of this bold man over hiscompanions, and such was their confidence in his skill and cunning, thatnot above a dozen of all those aboard hung back from the undertaking,but nearly every man desired to be taken.

Of these volunteers Captain Morgan chose twenty—among others our MasterHarry—and having arranged with his lieutenant that if nothing was heardfrom the expedition at the end of three days he should sail for Jamaicato await news, he embarked upon that enterprise, which, though neverheretofore published, was perhaps the boldest and the most desperate ofall those that have since made his name so famous. For what could be amore unparalleled undertaking than for a little open boat, containingbut twenty men, to enter the harbor of the third strongest fortress ofthe Spanish mainland with the intention of cutting out the Spanish viceadmiral from the midst of a whole fleet of powerfully armed vessels, andhow many men in all the world do you suppose would venture such a thing?

But there is this to be said of that great buccaneer: that if heundertook enterprises so desperate as this, he yet laid his plansso well that they never went altogether amiss. Moreover, the verydesperation of his successes was of such a nature that no man couldsuspect that he would dare to undertake such things, and accordingly hisenemies were never prepared to guard against his attacks. Aye, had hebut worn the king's colors and served under the rules of honest war, hemight have become as great and as renowned as Admiral Blake himself.

But all that is neither here nor there; what I have to tell you now isthat Captain Morgan in this open boat with his twenty mates reached theCape of Salmedina toward the fall of day. Arriving within view of theharbor they discovered the plate fleet at anchor, with two men-of-warand an armed galley riding as a guard at the mouth of the harbor, scarcehalf a league distant from the other ships. Having spied the fleet inthis posture, the pirates presently pulled down their sails and rowedalong the coast, feigning to be a Spanish vessel from Nombre de Dios. Sohugging the shore, they came boldly within the harbor, upon the oppositeside of which you might see the fortress a considerable distance away.

Being now come so near to the consummation of their adventure, CaptainMorgan required every man to make an oath to stand by him to the last,whereunto our hero swore as heartily as any man aboard, although hisheart, I must needs confess, was beating at a great rate at the approachof what was to happen. Having thus received the oaths of all hisfollowers, Captain Morgan commanded the surgeon of the expedition that,when the order was given, he, the medico, was to bore six holes in theboat, so that, it sinking under them, they might all be compelled topush forward, with no chance of retreat. And such was the ascendancy ofthis man over his followers, and such was their awe of him, that not oneof them uttered even so much as a murmur, though what he had commandedthe surgeon to do pledged them either to victory or to death, with nochance to choose between. Nor did the surgeon question the orders he hadreceived, much less did he dream of disobeying them.

By now it had fallen pretty dusk, whereupon, spying two fishermen in acanoe at a little distance, Captain Morgan demanded of them in Spanishwhich vessel of those at anchor in the harbor was the vice admiral, forthat he had dispatches for the captain thereof. Whereupon the fishermen,suspecting nothing, pointed to them a galleon of great size riding atanchor not half a league distant.

Toward this vessel accordingly the pirates directed their course, andwhen they had come pretty nigh, Captain Morgan called upon the surgeonthat now it was time for him to perform the duty that had been laid uponhim. Whereupon the other did as he was ordered, and that so thoroughlythat the water presently came gushing into the boat in great streams,whereat all hands pulled for the galleon as though every next moment wasto be their last.

And what do you suppose were our hero's emotions at this time? Like allin the boat, his awe of Captain Morgan was so great that I do believe hewould rather have gone to the bottom than have questioned his command,even when it was to scuttle the boat. Nevertheless, when he felt thecold water gushing about his feet (for he had taken off his shoes andstockings) he became possessed with such a fear of being drowned thateven the Spanish galleon had no terrors for him if he could only feelthe solid planks thereof beneath his feet.

Indeed, all the crew appeared to be possessed of a like dismay, for theypulled at the oars with such an incredible force that they were underthe quarter of the galleon before the boat was half filled with water.

Here, as they approached, it then being pretty dark and the moon notyet having risen, the watch upon the deck hailed them, whereupon CaptainMorgan called out in Spanish that he was Capt. Alvarez Mendazo, and thathe brought dispatches for the vice admiral.

But at that moment, the boat being now so full of water as to belogged, it suddenly tilted upon one side as though to sink beneath them,whereupon all hands, without further orders, went scrambling up theside, as nimble as so many monkeys, each armed with a pistol in one handand a cutlass in the other, and so were upon deck before the watch couldcollect his wits to utter any outcry or to give any other alarm than tocry out, "Jesu bless us! who are these?" at which words somebody knockedhim down with the butt of a pistol, though who it was our hero could nottell in the darkness and the hurry.

Before any of those upon deck could recover from their alarm or thosefrom below come up upon deck, a part of the pirates, under the carpenterand the surgeon, had run to the gun room and had taken possession of thearms, while Captain Morgan, with Master Harry and a Portuguese calledMurillo Braziliano, had flown with the speed of the wind into the greatcabin.

Here they found the captain of the vice admiral playing at cardswith the Sieur Simon and a friend, Madam Simon and her daughter beingpresent.

Captain Morgan instantly set his pistol at the breast of the Spanishcaptain, swearing with a most horrible fierce countenance that if hespake a word or made any outcry he was a dead man. As for our hero,having now got his hand into the game, he performed the same service forthe Spaniard's friend, declaring he would shoot him dead if he openedhis lips or lifted so much as a single finger.

All this while the ladies, not comprehending what had occurred, had satas mute as stones; but now having so far recovered themselves as to finda voice, the younger of the two fell to screaming, at which the SieurSimon called out to her to be still, for these were friends who had cometo help them, and not enemies who had come to harm them.

All this, you are to understand, occupied only a little while, for inless than a minute three or four of the pirates had come into the cabin,who, together with the Portuguese, proceeded at once to bind thetwo Spaniards hand and foot, and to gag them. This being done to ourbuccaneer's satisfaction, and the Spanish captain being stretched outin the corner of the cabin, he instantly cleared his countenance of itsterrors, and bursting forth into a great loud laugh, clapped his handto the Sieur Simon's, which he wrung with the best will in the world.Having done this, and being in a fine humor after this his firstsuccess, he turned to the two ladies. "And this, ladies," said he,taking our hero by the hand and presenting him, "is a young gentlemanwho has embarked with me to learn the trade of piracy. I recommend himto your politeness."

Think what a confusion this threw our Master Harry into, to be sure,who at his best was never easy in the company of strange ladies! You maysuppose what must have been his emotions to find himself thus introducedto the attention of Madam Simon and her daughter, being at the time inhis bare feet, clad only in his shirt and breeches, and with no hat uponhis head, a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other. However,he was not left for long to his embarrassments, for almost immediatelyafter he had thus far relaxed, Captain Morgan fell of a sudden seriousagain, and bidding the Sieur Simon to get his ladies away into someplace of safety, for the most hazardous part of this adventure was yetto occur, he quitted the cabin with Master Harry and the other pirates(for you may call him a pirate now) at his heels.

Having come upon deck, our hero beheld that a part of the Spanish crewwere huddled forward in a flock like so many sheep (the others beingcrowded below with the hatches fastened upon them), and such was theterror of the pirates, and so dreadful the name of Henry Morgan, thatnot one of those poor wretches dared to lift up his voice to give anyalarm, nor even to attempt an escape by jumping overboard.

At Captain Morgan's orders, these men, together with certain of his owncompany, ran nimbly aloft and began setting the sails, which, the nightnow having fallen pretty thick, was not for a good while observed by anyof the vessels riding at anchor about them.

Indeed, the pirates might have made good their escape, with at most onlya shot or two from the men-of-war, had it not then been about the fullof the moon, which, having arisen, presently discovered to those of thefleet that lay closest about them what was being done aboard the viceadmiral.

At this one of the vessels hailed them, and then after a while,having no reply, hailed them again. Even then the Spaniards might notimmediately have suspected anything was amiss but only that thevice admiral for some reason best known to himself was shifting hisanchorage, had not one of the Spaniards aloft—but who it was CaptainMorgan was never able to discover—answered the hail by crying out thatthe vice admiral had been seized by the pirates.

At this the alarm was instantly given and the mischief done, forpresently there was a tremendous bustle through that part of the fleetlying nighest the vice admiral—a deal of shouting of orders, a beatingof drums, and the running hither and thither of the crews.

But by this time the sails of the vice admiral had filled with a strongland breeze that was blowing up the harbor, whereupon the carpenter,at Captain Morgan's orders, having cut away both anchors, the galleonpresently bore away up the harbor, gathering headway every moment withthe wind nearly dead astern. The nearest vessel was the only one thatfor the moment was able to offer any hindrance. This ship, having bythis time cleared away one of its guns, was able to fire a parting shotagainst the vice-admiral, striking her somewhere forward, as our herocould see by a great shower of splinters that flew up in the moonlight.

At the sound of the shot all the vessels of the flota not yet disturbedby the alarm were aroused at once, so that the pirates had thesatisfaction of knowing that they would have to run the gantlet ofall the ships between them and the open sea before they could reckonthemselves escaped.

And, indeed, to our hero's mind it seemed that the battle which followedmust have been the most terrific cannonade that was ever heard in theworld. It was not so ill at first, for it was some while before theSpaniards could get their guns clear for action, they being not theleast in the world prepared for such an occasion as this. But by and byfirst one and then another ship opened fire upon the galleon, until itseemed to our hero that all the thunders of heaven let loose upon themcould not have created a more prodigious uproar, and that it was notpossible that they could any of them escape destruction.

By now the moon had risen full and round, so that the clouds of smokethat rose in the air appeared as white as snow. The air seemed full ofthe hiss and screaming of shot, each one of which, when it struck thegalleon, was magnified by our hero's imagination into ten times itsmagnitude from the crash which it delivered and from the cloud ofsplinters it would cast up into the moonlight. At last he suddenlybeheld one poor man knocked sprawling across the deck, who, as he raisedhis arm from behind the mast, disclosed that the hand was gone from it,and that the shirt sleeve was red with blood in the moonlight. At thissight all the strength fell away from poor Harry, and he felt sure thata like fate or even a worse must be in store for him.

But, after all, this was nothing to what it might have been inbroad daylight, for what with the darkness of night, and the littlepreparation the Spaniards could make for such a business, andthe extreme haste with which they discharged their guns (many notunderstanding what was the occasion of all this uproar), nearly all theshot flew so wide of the mark that not above one in twenty struck thatat which it was aimed.

Meantime Captain Morgan, with the Sieur Simon, who had followed himupon deck, stood just above where our hero lay behind the shelter of thebulwark. The captain had lit a pipe of tobacco, and he stood now in thebright moonlight close to the rail, with his hands behind him, lookingout ahead with the utmost coolness imaginable, and paying no moreattention to the din of battle than though it were twenty leagues away.Now and then he would take his pipe from his lips to utter an order tothe man at the wheel. Excepting this he stood there hardly moving atall, the wind blowing his long red hair over his shoulders.

Had it not been for the armed galley the pirates might have got thegalleon away with no great harm done in spite of all this cannonading,for the man-of-war which rode at anchor nighest to them at the mouthof the harbor was still so far away that they might have passed it byhugging pretty close to the shore, and that without any great harm beingdone to them in the darkness. But just at this moment, when the openwater lay in sight, came this galley pulling out from behind the pointof the shore in such a manner as either to head our pirates off entirelyor else to compel them to approach so near to the man-of-war that thatlatter vessel could bring its guns to bear with more effect.

This galley, I must tell you, was like others of its kind such as youmay find in these waters, the hull being long and cut low to the waterso as to allow the oars to dip freely. The bow was sharp and projectedfar out ahead, mounting a swivel upon it, while at the stern a number ofgalleries built one above another into a castle gave shelter to severalcompanies of musketeers as well as the officers commanding them.

Our hero could behold the approach of this galley from above thestarboard bulwarks, and it appeared to him impossible for them tohope to escape either it or the man-of-war. But still Captain Morganmaintained the same composure that he had exhibited all the while, onlynow and then delivering an order to the man at the wheel, who, puttingthe helm over, threw the bows of the galleon around more to thelarboard, as though to escape the bow of the galley and get into theopen water beyond. This course brought the pirates ever closer andcloser to the man-of-war, which now began to add its thunder to the dinof the battle, and with so much more effect that at every discharge youmight hear the crashing and crackling of splintered wood, and now andthen the outcry or groaning of some man who was hurt. Indeed, had itbeen daylight, they must at this juncture all have perished, though,as was said, what with the night and the confusion and the hurry, theyescaped entire destruction, though more by a miracle than through anypolicy upon their own part.

Meantime the galley, steering as though to come aboard of them, had nowcome so near that it, too, presently began to open its musketry fireupon them, so that the humming and rattling of bullets were presentlyadded to the din of cannonading.

In two minutes more it would have been aboard of them, when in a momentCaptain Morgan roared out of a sudden to the man at the helm to put ithard a starboard. In response the man ran the wheel over with the utmostquickness, and the galleon, obeying her helm very readily, came aroundupon a course which, if continued, would certainly bring them intocollision with their enemy.

It is possible at first the Spaniards imagined the pirates intended toescape past their stern, for they instantly began backing oars to keepthem from getting past, so that the water was all of a foam about them,at the same time they did this they poured in such a fire of musketrythat it was a miracle that no more execution was accomplished thanhappened.

As for our hero, methinks for the moment he forgot all about everythingelse than as to whether or no his captain's maneuver would succeed, forin the very first moment he divined, as by some instinct, what CaptainMorgan purposed doing.

At this moment, so particular in the execution of this nice design,a bullet suddenly struck down the man at the wheel. Hearing the sharpoutcry, our Harry turned to see him fall forward, and then to his handsand knees upon the deck, the blood running in a black pool beneath him,while the wheel, escaping from his hands, spun over until the spokeswere all of a mist.

In a moment the ship would have fallen off before the wind had not ourhero, leaping to the wheel (even as Captain Morgan shouted an order forsome one to do so), seized the flying spokes, whirling them back again,and so bringing the bow of the galleon up to its former course.

In the first moment of this effort he had reckoned of nothing but ofcarrying out his captain's designs. He neither thought of cannon ballsnor of bullets. But now that his task was accomplished, he came suddenlyback to himself to find the galleries of the galley aflame with musketshots, and to become aware with a most horrible sinking of the spiritsthat all the shots therefrom were intended for him. He cast his eyesabout him with despair, but no one came to ease him of his task, which,having undertaken, he had too much spirit to resign from carryingthrough to the end, though he was well aware that the very next instantmight mean his sudden and violent death. His ears hummed and rang, andhis brain swam as light as a feather. I know not whether he breathed,but he shut his eyes tight as though that might save him from thebullets that were raining about him.

At this moment the Spaniards must have discovered for the first time thepirates' design, for of a sudden they ceased firing, and began to shoutout a multitude of orders, while the oars lashed the water all aboutwith a foam. But it was too late then for them to escape, for within acouple of seconds the galleon struck her enemy a blow so violent uponthe larboard quarter as nearly to hurl our Harry upon the deck, and thenwith a dreadful, horrible crackling of wood, commingled with a yellingof men's voices, the galley was swung around upon her side, and thegalleon, sailing into the open sea, left nothing of her immediate enemybut a sinking wreck, and the water dotted all over with bobbing headsand waving hands in the moonlight.

And now, indeed, that all danger was past and gone, there were plentyto come running to help our hero at the wheel. As for Captain Morgan,having come down upon the main deck, he fetches the young helmsman aclap upon the back. "Well, Master Harry," says he, "and did I not tellyou I would make a man of you?" Whereat our poor Harry fell a-laughing,but with a sad catch in his voice, for his hands trembled as with anague, and were as cold as ice. As for his emotions, God knows he wasnearer crying than laughing, if Captain Morgan had but known it.

Nevertheless, though undertaken under the spur of the moment, I protestit was indeed a brave deed, and I cannot but wonder how many younggentlemen of sixteen there are to-day who, upon a like occasion, wouldact as well as our Harry.

V

The balance of our hero's adventures were of a lighter sort than thosealready recounted, for the next morning the Spanish captain (a verypolite and well-bred gentleman) having fitted him out with a shift ofhis own clothes, Master Harry was presented in a proper form to theladies. For Captain Morgan, if he had felt a liking for the young manbefore, could not now show sufficient regard for him. He ate in thegreat cabin and was petted by all. Madam Simon, who was a fat andred-faced lady, was forever praising him, and the young miss, who wasextremely well-looking, was as continually making eyes at him.

She and Master Harry, I must tell you, would spend hours together, shemaking pretense of teaching him French, although he was so possessedwith a passion of love that he was nigh suffocated with it. She, uponher part, perceiving his emotions, responded with extreme good natureand complacency, so that had our hero been older, and the voyage provedlonger, he might have become entirely enmeshed in the toils of hisfair siren. For all this while, you are to understand, the pirates weremaking sail straight for Jamaica, which they reached upon the third dayin perfect safety.

In that time, however, the pirates had well-nigh gone crazy for joy; forwhen they came to examine their purchase they discovered her cargo toconsist of plate to the prodigious sum of L180,000 in value. 'Twas awonder they did not all make themselves drunk for joy. No doubt theywould have done so had not Captain Morgan, knowing they were still inthe exact track of the Spanish fleets, threatened them that the firstman among them who touched a drop of rum without his permission he wouldshoot him dead upon the deck. This threat had such effect that they allremained entirely sober until they had reached Port Royal Harbor, whichthey did about nine o'clock in the morning.

And now it was that our hero's romance came all tumbling down about hisears with a run. For they had hardly come to anchor in the harbor whena boat came from a man-of-war, and who should come stepping aboard butLieutenant Grantley (a particular friend of our hero's father) and hisown eldest brother Thomas, who, putting on a very stern face, informedMaster Harry that he was a desperate and hardened villain who was sureto end at the gallows, and that he was to go immediately back to hishome again. He told our embryo pirate that his family had nigh gonedistracted because of his wicked and ungrateful conduct. Nor could ourhero move him from his inflexible purpose. "What," says our Harry, "andwill you not then let me wait until our prize is divided and I get myshare?"

"Prize, indeed!" says his brother. "And do you then really think thatyour father would consent to your having a share in this terrible bloodyand murthering business?"

And so, after a good deal of argument, our hero was constrained to go;nor did he even have an opportunity to bid adieu to his inamorata. Nordid he see her any more, except from a distance, she standing on thepoop deck as he was rowed away from her, her face all stained withcrying. For himself, he felt that there was no more joy in life;nevertheless, standing up in the stern of the boat, he made shift,though with an aching heart, to deliver her a fine bow with the hat hehad borrowed from the Spanish captain, before his brother bade him sitdown again.

And so to the ending of this story, with only this to relate, that ourMaster Harry, so far from going to the gallows, became in good time arespectable and wealthy sugar merchant with an English wife and afine family of children, whereunto, when the mood was upon him, he hassometimes told these adventures (and sundry others not here recounted),as I have told them unto you.

Chapter IV. TOM CHIST AND THE TREASURE BOX

An Old-time Story of the Days of Captain Kidd

I

TO tell about Tom Chist, and how he got his name, and how he came to beliving at the little settlement of Henlopen, just inside the mouth ofthe Delaware Bay, the story must begin as far back as 1686, when a greatstorm swept the Atlantic coast from end to end. During the heaviest partof the hurricane a bark went ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals, justbelow Cape Henlopen and at the mouth of the Delaware Bay, and Tom Chistwas the only soul of all those on board the ill-fated vessel who escapedalive.

This story must first be told, because it was on account of the strangeand miraculous escape that happened to him at that time that he gainedthe name that was given to him.

Even as late as that time of the American colonies, the little scatteredsettlement at Henlopen, made up of English, with a few Dutch and Swedishpeople, was still only a spot upon the face of the great Americanwilderness that spread away, with swamp and forest, no man knew how farto the westward. That wilderness was not only full of wild beasts, butof Indian savages, who every fall would come in wandering tribesto spend the winter along the shores of the fresh-water lakes belowHenlopen. There for four or five months they would live upon fish andclams and wild ducks and geese, chipping their arrowheads, and makingtheir earthenware pots and pans under the lee of the sand hills and pinewoods below the Capes.

Sometimes on Sundays, when the Rev. Hillary Jones would be preachingin the little log church back in the woods, these half-clad red savageswould come in from the cold, and sit squatting in the back part of thechurch, listening stolidly to the words that had no meaning for them.

But about the wreck of the bark in 1686. Such a wreck as that which thenwent ashore on the Hen-and-Chicken Shoals was a godsend to the poor andneedy settlers in the wilderness where so few good things ever came.For the vessel went to pieces during the night, and the next morningthe beach was strewn with wreckage—boxes and barrels, chests and spars,timbers and planks, a plentiful and bountiful harvest, to be gathered upby the settlers as they chose, with no one to forbid or prevent them.

The name of the bark, as found painted on some of the water barrelsand sea chests, was the Bristol Merchant, and she no doubt hailed fromEngland.

As was said, the only soul who escaped alive off the wreck was TomChist.

A settler, a fisherman named Matt Abrahamson, and his daughter Molly,found Tom. He was washed up on the beach among the wreckage, in a greatwooden box which had been securely tied around with a rope and lashedbetween two spars—apparently for better protection in beating throughthe surf. Matt Abrahamson thought he had found something of more thanusual value when he came upon this chest; but when he cut the cordsand broke open the box with his broadax, he could not have been moreastonished had he beheld a salamander instead of a baby of nine or tenmonths old lying half smothered in the blankets that covered the bottomof the chest.

Matt Abrahamson's daughter Molly had had a baby who had died a month orso before. So when she saw the little one lying there in the bottom ofthe chest, she cried out in a great loud voice that the Good Man hadsent her another baby in place of her own.

The rain was driving before the hurricane storm in dim, slanting sheets,and so she wrapped up the baby in the man's coat she wore and ran offhome without waiting to gather up any more of the wreckage.

It was Parson Jones who gave the foundling his name. When the newscame to his ears of what Matt Abrahamson had found he went over to thefisherman's cabin to see the child. He examined the clothes in which thebaby was dressed. They were of fine linen and handsomely stitched, andthe reverend gentleman opined that the foundling's parents must havebeen of quality. A kerchief had been wrapped around the baby's neck andunder its arms and tied behind, and in the corner, marked with very fineneedlework, were the initials T. C.

"What d'ye call him, Molly?" said Parson Jones. He was standing, as hespoke, with his back to the fire, warming his palms before the blaze.The pocket of the greatcoat he wore bulged out with a big case bottle ofspirits which he had gathered up out of the wreck that afternoon. "Whatd'ye call him, Molly?"

"I'll call him Tom, after my own baby."

"That goes very well with the initial on the kerchief," said ParsonJones. "But what other name d'ye give him? Let it be something to gowith the C."

"I don't know," said Molly.

"Why not call him 'Chist,' since he was born in a chist out of the sea?'Tom Chist'—the name goes off like a flash in the pan." And so "TomChist" he was called and "Tom Chist" he was christened.

So much for the beginning of the history of Tom Chist. The story ofCaptain Kidd's treasure box does not begin until the late spring of1699.

That was the year that the famous pirate captain, coming up from theWest Indies, sailed his sloop into the Delaware Bay, where he lay forover a month waiting for news from his friends in New York.

For he had sent word to that town asking if the coast was clear for himto return home with the rich prize he had brought from the Indian seasand the coast of Africa, and meantime he lay there in the Delaware Baywaiting for a reply. Before he left he turned the whole of Tom Chist'slife topsy-turvy with something that he brought ashore.

By that time Tom Chist had grown into a strong-limbed, thick-jointed boyof fourteen or fifteen years of age. It was a miserable dog's life helived with old Matt Abrahamson, for the old fisherman was in his cupsmore than half the time, and when he was so there was hardly a daypassed that he did not give Tom a curse or a buffet or, as like as not,an actual beating. One would have thought that such treatment wouldhave broken the spirit of the poor little foundling, but it had just theopposite effect upon Tom Chist, who was one of your stubborn, sturdy,stiff-willed fellows who only grow harder and more tough the more theyare ill-treated. It had been a long time now since he had made anyoutcry or complaint at the hard usage he suffered from old Matt. Atsuch times he would shut his teeth and bear whatever came to him, untilsometimes the half-drunken old man would be driven almost mad by hisstubborn silence. Maybe he would stop in the midst of the beating hewas administering, and, grinding his teeth, would cry out: "Won't ye saynaught? Won't ye say naught? Well, then, I'll see if I can't make yesay naught." When things had reached such a pass as this Molly wouldgenerally interfere to protect her foster son, and then she and Tomwould together fight the old man until they had wrenched the stick orthe strap out of his hand. Then old Matt would chase them out of doorsand around and around the house for maybe half an hour, until his angerwas cool, when he would go back again, and for a time the storm would beover.

Besides his foster mother, Tom Chist had a very good friend in ParsonJones, who used to come over every now and then to Abrahamson's hut uponthe chance of getting a half dozen fish for breakfast. He always had akind word or two for Tom, who during the winter evenings would go overto the good man's house to learn his letters, and to read and write andcipher a little, so that by now he was able to spell the words out ofthe Bible and the almanac, and knew enough to change tuppence into fourha'pennies.

This is the sort of boy Tom Chist was, and this is the sort of life heled.

In the late spring or early summer of 1699 Captain Kidd's sloop sailedinto the mouth of the Delaware Bay and changed the whole fortune of hislife.

And this is how you come to the story of Captain Kidd's treasure box.

II

Old Matt Abrahamson kept the flat-bottomed boat in which he went fishingsome distance down the shore, and in the neighborhood of the old wreckthat had been sunk on the Shoals. This was the usual fishing ground ofthe settlers, and here old Matt's boat generally lay drawn up on thesand.

There had been a thunderstorm that afternoon, and Tom had gone down thebeach to bale out the boat in readiness for the morning's fishing.

It was full moonlight now, as he was returning, and the night sky wasfull of floating clouds. Now and then there was a dull flash to thewestward, and once a muttering growl of thunder, promising another stormto come.

All that day the pirate sloop had been lying just off the shore back ofthe Capes, and now Tom Chist could see the sails glimmering pallidly inthe moonlight, spread for drying after the storm. He was walking up theshore homeward when he became aware that at some distance ahead of himthere was a ship's boat drawn up on the little narrow beach, and agroup of men clustered about it. He hurried forward with a good deal ofcuriosity to see who had landed, but it was not until he had come closeto them that he could distinguish who and what they were. Then he knewthat it must be a party who had come off the pirate sloop. They hadevidently just landed, and two men were lifting out a chest from theboat. One of them was a negro, naked to the waist, and the other was awhite man in his shirt sleeves, wearing petticoat breeches, a Montereycap upon his head, a red bandanna handkerchief around his neck, andgold earrings in his ears. He had a long, plaited queue hanging downhis back, and a great sheath knife dangling from his side. Another man,evidently the captain of the party, stood at a little distance asthey lifted the chest out of the boat. He had a cane in one hand and alighted lantern in the other, although the moon was shining as brightas day. He wore jack boots and a handsome laced coat, and he had along, drooping mustache that curled down below his chin. He wore a fine,feathered hat, and his long black hair hung down upon his shoulders.

All this Tom Chist could see in the moonlight that glinted and twinkledupon the gilt buttons of his coat.

They were so busy lifting the chest from the boat that at first they didnot observe that Tom Chist had come up and was standing there. It wasthe white man with the long, plaited queue and the gold earrings thatspoke to him. "Boy, what do you want here, boy?" he said, in a rough,hoarse voice. "Where d'ye come from?" And then dropping his end of thechest, and without giving Tom time to answer, he pointed off down thebeach, and said, "You'd better be going about your own business, if youknow what's good for you; and don't you come back, or you'll find whatyou don't want waiting for you."

Tom saw in a glance that the pirates were all looking at him, and then,without saying a word, he turned and walked away. The man who had spokento him followed him threateningly for some little distance, as thoughto see that he had gone away as he was bidden to do. But presently hestopped, and Tom hurried on alone, until the boat and the crew andall were dropped away behind and lost in the moonlight night. Then hehimself stopped also, turned, and looked back whence he had come.

There had been something very strange in the appearance of the menhe had just seen, something very mysterious in their actions, and hewondered what it all meant, and what they were going to do. He stoodfor a little while thus looking and listening. He could see nothing, andcould hear only the sound of distant talking. What were they doing onthe lonely shore thus at night? Then, following a sudden impulse, heturned and cut off across the sand hummocks, skirting around inland, butkeeping pretty close to the shore, his object being to spy upon them,and to watch what they were about from the back of the low sand hillsthat fronted the beach.

He had gone along some distance in his circuitous return when he becameaware of the sound of voices that seemed to be drawing closer to himas he came toward the speakers. He stopped and stood listening, andinstantly, as he stopped, the voices stopped also. He crouched theresilently in the bright, glimmering moonlight, surrounded by the silentstretches of sand, and the stillness seemed to press upon him like aheavy hand. Then suddenly the sound of a man's voice began again, and asTom listened he could hear some one slowly counting. "Ninety-one,"the voice began, "ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five,ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, onehundred and one"—the slow, monotonous count coming nearer and nearer;"one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four," andso on in its monotonous reckoning.

Suddenly he saw three heads appear above the sand hill, so close tohim that he crouched down quickly with a keen thrill, close beside thehummock near which he stood. His first fear was that they might haveseen him in the moonlight; but they had not, and his heart rose againas the counting voice went steadily on. "One hundred and twenty," itwas saying—"and twenty-one, and twenty-two, and twenty-three, andtwenty-four," and then he who was counting came out from behindthe little sandy rise into the white and open level of shimmeringbrightness.

It was the man with the cane whom Tom had seen some time before thecaptain of the party who had landed. He carried his cane under his armnow, and was holding his lantern close to something that he held in hishand, and upon which he looked narrowly as he walked with a slow andmeasured tread in a perfectly straight line across the sand, countingeach step as he took it. "And twenty-five, and twenty-six, andtwenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty."

Behind him walked two other figures; one was the half-naked negro, theother the man with the plaited queue and the earrings, whom Tom had seenlifting the chest out of the boat. Now they were carrying the heavy boxbetween them, laboring through the sand with shuffling tread as theybore it onward. As he who was counting pronounced the word "thirty,"the two men set the chest down on the sand with a grunt, the whiteman panting and blowing and wiping his sleeve across his forehead. Andimmediately he who counted took out a slip of paper and marked somethingdown upon it. They stood there for a long time, during which Tom laybehind the sand hummock watching them, and for a while the silence wasuninterrupted. In the perfect stillness Tom could hear the washing ofthe little waves beating upon the distant beach, and once the far-awaysound of a laugh from one of those who stood by the ship's boat.

One, two, three minutes passed, and then the men picked up the chestand started on again; and then again the other man began his counting."Thirty and one, and thirty and two, and thirty and three, and thirtyand four"—he walked straight across the level open, still lookingintently at that which he held in his hand—"and thirty and five,and thirty and six, and thirty and seven," and so on, until the threefigures disappeared in the little hollow between the two sand hills onthe opposite side of the open, and still Tom could hear the sound of thecounting voice in the distance.

Just as they disappeared behind the hill there was a sudden faint flashof light; and by and by, as Tom lay still listening to the counting,he heard, after a long interval, a far-away muffled rumble of distantthunder. He waited for a while, and then arose and stepped to the topof the sand hummock behind which he had been lying. He looked all abouthim, but there was no one else to be seen. Then he stepped down from thehummock and followed in the direction which the pirate captain and thetwo men carrying the chest had gone. He crept along cautiously, stoppingnow and then to make sure that he still heard the counting voice, andwhen it ceased he lay down upon the sand and waited until it beganagain.

Presently, so following the pirates, he saw the three figures again inthe distance, and, skirting around back of a hill of sand covered withcoarse sedge grass, he came to where he overlooked a little open levelspace gleaming white in the moonlight.

The three had been crossing the level of sand, and were now not morethan twenty-five paces from him. They had again set down the chest, uponwhich the white man with the long queue and the gold earrings had seatedto rest himself, the negro standing close beside him. The moon shoneas bright as day and full upon his face. It was looking directly at TomChist, every line as keen cut with white lights and black shadows asthough it had been carved in ivory and jet. He sat perfectly motionless,and Tom drew back with a start, almost thinking he had been discovered.He lay silent, his heart beating heavily in his throat; but there wasno alarm, and presently he heard the counting begin again, and when helooked once more he saw they were going away straight across the littleopen. A soft, sliding hillock of sand lay directly in front of them.They did not turn aside, but went straight over it, the leader helpinghimself up the sandy slope with his cane, still counting and stillkeeping his eyes fixed upon that which he held in his hand. Then theydisappeared again behind the white crest on the other side.

So Tom followed them cautiously until they had gone almost half a mileinland. When next he saw them clearly it was from a little sandy risewhich looked down like the crest of a bowl upon the floor of sandbelow. Upon this smooth, white floor the moon beat with almost dazzlingbrightness.

The white man who had helped to carry the chest was now kneeling, busiedat some work, though what it was Tom at first could not see. He waswhittling the point of a stick into a long wooden peg, and when, by andby, he had finished what he was about, he arose and stepped to where hewho seemed to be the captain had stuck his cane upright into the groundas though to mark some particular spot. He drew the cane out of thesand, thrusting the stick down in its stead. Then he drove the longpeg down with a wooden mallet which the negro handed to him. The sharprapping of the mallet upon the top of the peg sounded loud the perfectstillness, and Tom lay watching and wondering what it all meant. Theman, with quick-repeated blows, drove the peg farther and fartherdown into the sand until it showed only two or three inches above thesurface. As he finished his work there was another faint flash of light,and by and by another smothered rumble of thunder, and Tom, as he lookedout toward the westward, saw the silver rim of the round and sharplyoutlined thundercloud rising slowly up into the sky and pushing theother and broken drifting clouds before it.

The two white men were now stooping over the peg, the negro man watchingthem. Then presently the man with the cane started straight away fromthe peg, carrying the end of a measuring line with him, the other endof which the man with the plaited queue held against the top of the peg.When the pirate captain had reached the end of the measuring line hemarked a cross upon the sand, and then again they measured out anotherstretch of space.

So they measured a distance five times over, and then, from where Tomlay, he could see the man with the queue drive another peg just at thefoot of a sloping rise of sand that swept up beyond into a tall whitedune marked sharp and clear against the night sky behind. As soon asthe man with the plaited queue had driven the second peg into the groundthey began measuring again, and so, still measuring, disappeared inanother direction which took them in behind the sand dune where Tom nolonger could see what they were doing.

The negro still sat by the chest where the two had left him, and sobright was the moonlight that from where he lay Tom could see the glintof it twinkling in the whites of his eyeballs.

Presently from behind the hill there came, for the third time, the sharprapping sound of the mallet driving still another peg, and then after awhile the two pirates emerged from behind the sloping whiteness into thespace of moonlight again.

They came direct to where the chest lay, and the white man and the blackman lifting it once more, they walked away across the level of opensand, and so on behind the edge of the hill and out of Tom's sight.

III

Tom Chist could no longer see what the pirates were doing, neither didhe dare to cross over the open space of sand that now lay betweenthem and him. He lay there speculating as to what they were about, andmeantime the storm cloud was rising higher and higher above the horizon,with louder and louder mutterings of thunder following each dull flashfrom out the cloudy, cavernous depths. In the silence he could hearan occasional click as of some iron implement, and he opined that thepirates were burying the chest, though just where they were at work hecould neither see nor tell.

Still he lay there watching and listening, and by and by a puff of warmair blew across the sand, and a thumping tumble of louder thunder leapedfrom out the belly of the storm cloud, which every minute was comingnearer and nearer. Still Tom Chist lay watching.

Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the three figures reappeared from behindthe sand hill, the pirate captain leading the way, and the negro andwhite man following close behind him. They had gone about halfway acrossthe white, sandy level between the hill and the hummock behind which TomChist lay, when the white man stopped and bent over as though to tie hisshoe.

This brought the negro a few steps in front of his companion.

That which then followed happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, soswiftly, that Tom Chist had hardly time to realize what it all meantbefore it was over. As the negro passed him the white man arose suddenlyand silently erect, and Tom Chist saw the white moonlight glint upon theblade of a great dirk knife which he now held in his hand. He took one,two silent, catlike steps behind the unsuspecting negro. Then there wasa sweeping flash of the blade in the pallid light, and a blow, the thumpof which Tom could distinctly hear even from where he lay stretched outupon the sand. There was an instant echoing yell from the black man, whoran stumbling forward, who stopped, who regained his footing, and thenstood for an instant as though rooted to the spot.

Tom had distinctly seen the knife enter his back, and even thought thathe had seen the glint of the point as it came out from the breast.

Meantime the pirate captain had stopped, and now stood with his handresting upon his cane looking impassively on.

Then the black man started to run. The white man stood for a whileglaring after him; then he, too, started after his victim upon the run.The black man was not very far from Tom when he staggered and fell.He tried to rise, then fell forward again, and lay at length. At thatinstant the first edge of the cloud cut across the moon, and there was asudden darkness; but in the silence Tom heard the sound of another blowand a groan, and then presently a voice calling to the pirate captainthat it was all over.

He saw the dim form of the captain crossing the level sand, and then, asthe moon sailed out from behind the cloud, he saw the white man standingover a black figure that lay motionless upon the sand.

Then Tom Chist scrambled up and ran away, plunging down into the hollowof sand that lay in the shadows below. Over the next rise he ran, anddown again into the next black hollow, and so on over the sliding,shifting ground, panting and gasping. It seemed to him that he couldhear footsteps following, and in the terror that possessed him he almostexpected every instant to feel the cold knife blade slide between hisown ribs in such a thrust from behind as he had seen given to the poorblack man.

So he ran on like one in a nightmare. His feet grew heavy like lead, hepanted and gasped, his breath came hot and dry in his throat. But stillhe ran and ran until at last he found himself in front of old MattAbrahamson's cabin, gasping, panting, and sobbing for breath, his kneesrelaxed and his thighs trembling with weakness.

As he opened the door and dashed into the darkened cabin (for both Mattand Molly were long ago asleep in bed) there was a flash of light, andeven as he slammed to the door behind him there was an instant peal ofthunder, heavy as though a great weight had been dropped upon the roofof the sky, so that the doors and windows of the cabin rattled.

IV

Then Tom Chist crept to bed, trembling, shuddering, bathed in sweat, hisheart beating like a trip hammer, and his brain dizzy from that long,terror-inspired race through the soft sand in which he had striven tooutstrip he knew not what pursuing horror.

For a long, long time he lay awake, trembling and chattering withnervous chills, and when he did fall asleep it was only to drop intomonstrous dreams in which he once again saw ever enacted, with variousgrotesque variations, the tragic drama which his waking eyes had beheldthe night before.

Then came the dawning of the broad, wet daylight, and before the risingof the sun Tom was up and out of doors to find the young day drippingwith the rain of overnight.

His first act was to climb the nearest sand hill and to gaze out towardthe offing where the pirate ship had been the day before.

It was no longer there.

Soon afterward Matt Abrahamson came out of the cabin and he calledto Tom to go get a bite to eat, for it was time for them to be awayfishing.

All that morning the recollection of the night before hung over TomChist like a great cloud of boding trouble. It filled the confined areaof the little boat and spread over the entire wide spaces of sky and seathat surrounded them. Not for a moment was it lifted. Even when he washauling in his wet and dripping line with a struggling fish at the endof it a recurrent memory of what he had seen would suddenly come uponhim, and he would groan in spirit at the recollection. He looked at MattAbrahamson's leathery face, at his lantern jaws cavernously and stolidlychewing at a tobacco leaf, and it seemed monstrous to him that the oldman should be so unconscious of the black cloud that wrapped them allabout.

When the boat reached the shore again he leaped scrambling to the beach,and as soon as his dinner was eaten he hurried away to find the DominieJones.

He ran all the way from Abrahamson's hut to the parson's house, hardlystopping once, and when he knocked at the door he was panting andsobbing for breath.

The good man was sitting on the back-kitchen doorstep smoking hislong pipe of tobacco out into the sunlight, while his wife within wasrattling about among the pans and dishes in preparation of their supper,of which a strong, porky smell already filled the air.

Then Tom Chist told his story, panting, hurrying, tumbling one word overanother in his haste, and Parson Jones listened, breaking every now andthen into an ejaculation of wonder. The light in his pipe went out andthe bowl turned cold.

"And I don't see why they should have killed the poor black man," saidTom, as he finished his narrative.

"Why, that is very easy enough to understand," said the good reverendman. "'Twas a treasure box they buried!"

In his agitation Mr. Jones had risen from his seat and was now stumpingup and down, puffing at his empty tobacco pipe as though it were stillalight.

"A treasure box!" cried out Tom.

"Aye, a treasure box! And that was why they killed the poor black man.He was the only one, d'ye see, besides they two who knew the placewhere 'twas hid, and now that they've killed him out of the way, there'snobody but themselves knows. The villains—Tut, tut, look at that now!"In his excitement the dominie had snapped the stem of his tobacco pipein two.

"Why, then," said Tom, "if that is so, 'tis indeed a wicked, bloodytreasure, and fit to bring a curse upon anybody who finds it!"

"'Tis more like to bring a curse upon the soul who buried it," saidParson Jones, "and it may be a blessing to him who finds it. But tellme, Tom, do you think you could find the place again where 'twas hid?"

"I can't tell that," said Tom, "'twas all in among the sand humps, d'yesee, and it was at night into the bargain. Maybe we could find the marksof their feet in the sand," he added.

"'Tis not likely," said the reverend gentleman, "for the storm lastnight would have washed all that away."

"I could find the place," said Tom, "where the boat was drawn up on thebeach."

"Why, then, that's something to start from, Tom," said his friend. "Ifwe can find that, then maybe we can find whither they went from there."

"If I was certain it was a treasure box," cried out Tom Chist, "I wouldrake over every foot of sand betwixt here and Henlopen to find it."

"'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Rev. HilaryJones.

As Tom walked away home, it seemed as though a ton's weight of gloom hadbeen rolled away from his soul. The next day he and Parson Jones were togo treasure-hunting together; it seemed to Tom as though he could hardlywait for the time to come.

V

The next afternoon Parson Jones and Tom Chist started off together uponthe expedition that made Tom's fortune forever. Tom carried a spade overhis shoulder and the reverend gentleman walked along beside him with hiscane.

As they jogged along up the beach they talked together about the onlything they could talk about—the treasure box. "And how big did you say'twas?" quoth the good gentleman.

"About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "andabout so wide, and this deep."

"And what if it should be full of money, Tom?" said the reverendgentleman, swinging his cane around and around in wide circles in theexcitement of the thought, as he strode along briskly. "Suppose itshould be full of money, what then?"

"By Moses!" said Tom Chist, hurrying to keep up with his friend, "I'dbuy a ship for myself, I would, and I'd trade to Injyy and to Chiny tomy own boot, I would. Suppose the chist was all full of money, sir, andsuppose we should find it; would there be enough in it, d'ye suppose, tobuy a ship?"

"To be sure there would be enough, Tom, enough and to spare, and a goodbig lump over."

"And if I find it 'tis mine to keep, is it, and no mistake?"

"Why, to be sure it would be yours!" cried out the parson, in a loudvoice. "To be sure it would be yours!" He knew nothing of the law, butthe doubt of the question began at once to ferment in his brain, and hestrode along in silence for a while. "Whose else would it be but yoursif you find it?" he burst out. "Can you tell me that?"

"If ever I have a ship of my own," said Tom Chist, "and if ever I sailto Injy in her, I'll fetch ye back the best chist of tea, sir, that everwas fetched from Cochin Chiny."

Parson Jones burst out laughing. "Thankee, Tom," he said; "and I'llthankee again when I get my chist of tea. But tell me, Tom, didst thouever hear of the farmer girl who counted her chickens before they werehatched?"

It was thus they talked as they hurried along up the beach together,and so came to a place at last where Tom stopped short and stood lookingabout him. "'Twas just here," he said, "I saw the boat last night. Iknow 'twas here, for I mind me of that bit of wreck yonder, and thatthere was a tall stake drove in the sand just where yon stake stands."

Parson Jones put on his barnacles and went over to the stake towardwhich Tom pointed. As soon as he had looked at it carefully he calledout: "Why, Tom, this hath been just drove down into the sand. 'Tisa brand-new stake of wood, and the pirates must have set it herethemselves as a mark, just as they drove the pegs you spoke about downinto the sand."

Tom came over and looked at the stake. It was a stout piece of oaknearly two inches thick; it had been shaped with some care, and the topof it had been painted red. He shook the stake and tried to move it, butit had been driven or planted so deeply into the sand that he could notstir it. "Aye, sir," he said, "it must have been set here for a mark,for I'm sure 'twas not here yesterday or the day before." He stoodlooking about him to see if there were other signs of the pirates'presence. At some little distance there was the corner of somethingwhite sticking up out of the sand. He could see that it was a scrap ofpaper, and he pointed to it, calling out: "Yonder is a piece of paper,sir. I wonder if they left that behind them?"

It was a miraculous chance that placed that paper there. There was onlyan inch of it showing, and if it had not been for Tom's sharp eyes, itwould certainly have been overlooked and passed by. The next windstormwould have covered it up, and all that afterward happened never wouldhave occurred. "Look, sir," he said, as he struck the sand from it, "ithath writing on it."

"Let me see it," said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a littlemore firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his hand andbegan conning it. "What's all this?" he said; "a whole lot of figuresand nothing else." And then he read aloud, "'Mark—S. S. W. S. by S.'What d'ye suppose that means, Tom?"

"I don't know, sir," said Tom. "But maybe we can understand it better ifyou read on."

"'Tis all a great lot of figures," said Parson Jones, "without agrain of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailingdirections." And then he began reading again: "'Mark—S. S. W. by S. 40,72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271'—d'ye see, it must be sailingdirections—'299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544, 571,598'—what a lot of them there be '626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851, 876,905, 940, 967. Peg. S. E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S. S. W. by S. 427 foot.Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.'"

"What's that about a peg?" exclaimed Tom. "What's that about a peg? Andthen there's something about digging, too!" It was as though a suddenlight began shining into his brain. He felt himself growing quickly veryexcited. "Read that over again, sir," he cried. "Why, sir, you rememberI told you they drove a peg into the sand. And don't they say to digclose to it? Read it over again, sir—read it over again!"

"Peg?" said the good gentleman. "To be sure it was about a peg. Let'slook again. Yes, here it is. 'Peg S. E. by E. 269 foot.'"

"Aye!" cried out Tom Chist again, in great excitement. "Don't youremember what I told you, sir, 269 foot? Sure that must be what I saw'em measuring with the line."

Parson Jones had now caught the flame of excitement that was blazing upso strongly in Tom's breast. He felt as though some wonderful thing wasabout to happen to them. "To be sure, to be sure!" he called out, in agreat big voice. "And then they measured out 427 foot south-southwest bysouth, and they then drove another peg, and then they buried the boxsix foot to the west of it. Why, Tom—why, Tom Chist! if we've read thisaright, thy fortune is made."

Tom Chist stood staring straight at the old gentleman's excited face,and seeing nothing but it in all the bright infinity of sunshine. Werethey, indeed, about to find the treasure chest? He felt the sun very hotupon his shoulders, and he heard the harsh, insistent jarring of a ternthat hovered and circled with forked tail and sharp white wings in thesunlight just above their heads; but all the time he stood staring intothe good old gentleman's face.

It was Parson Jones who first spoke. "But what do all these figuresmean?" And Tom observed how the paper shook and rustled in the tremor ofexcitement that shook his hand. He raised the paper to the focus of hisspectacles and began to read again. "'Mark 40, 72, 91—'"

"Mark?" cried out Tom, almost screaming. "Why, that must mean the stakeyonder; that must be the mark." And he pointed to the oaken stick withits red tip blazing against the white shimmer of sand behind it.

"And the 40 and 72 and 91," cried the old gentleman, in a voice equallyshrill—"why, that must mean the number of steps the pirate was countingwhen you heard him."

"To be sure that's what they mean!" cried Tom Chist. "That is it, andit can be nothing else. Oh, come, sir—come, sir; let us make haste andfind it!"

"Stay! stay!" said the good gentleman, holding up his hand; and againTom Chist noticed how it trembled and shook. His voice was steadyenough, though very hoarse, but his hand shook and trembled asthough with a palsy. "Stay! stay! First of all, we must follow thesemeasurements. And 'tis a marvelous thing," he croaked, after a littlepause, "how this paper ever came to be here."

"Maybe it was blown here by the storm," suggested Tom Chist.

"Like enough; like enough," said Parson Jones. "Like enough, after thewretches had buried the chest and killed the poor black man, they wereso buffeted and bowsed about by the storm that it was shook out of theman's pocket, and thus blew away from him without his knowing aught ofit."

"But let us find the box!" cried out Tom Chist, flaming with hisexcitement.

"Aye, aye," said the good man; "only stay a little, my boy, until wemake sure what we're about. I've got my pocket compass here, but we musthave something to measure off the feet when we have found the peg. Yourun across to Tom Brooke's house and fetch that measuring rod he usedto lay out his new byre. While you're gone I'll pace off the distancemarked on the paper with my pocket compass here."

VI

Tom Chist was gone for almost an hour, though he ran nearly all theway and back, upborne as on the wings of the wind. When he returned,panting, Parson Jones was nowhere to be seen, but Tom saw his footstepsleading away inland, and he followed the scuffling marks in the smoothsurface across the sand humps and down into the hollows, and by and byfound the good gentleman in a spot he at once knew as soon as he laidhis eyes upon it.

It was the open space where the pirates had driven their first peg, andwhere Tom Chist had afterward seen them kill the poor black man. TomChist gazed around as though expecting to see some sign of the tragedy,but the space was as smooth and as undisturbed as a floor, exceptingwhere, midway across it, Parson Jones, who was now stooping oversomething on the ground, had trampled it all around about.

When Tom Chist saw him he was still bending over, scraping away fromsomething he had found.

It was the first peg!

Inside of half an hour they had found the second and third pegs, and TomChist stripped off his coat, and began digging like mad down into thesand, Parson Jones standing over him watching him. The sun was slopingwell toward the west when the blade of Tom Chist's spade struck uponsomething hard.

If it had been his own heart that he had hit in the sand his breastcould hardly have thrilled more sharply.

It was the treasure box!

Parson Jones himself leaped down into the hole, and began scraping awaythe sand with his hands as though he had gone crazy. At last, with somedifficulty, they tugged and hauled the chest up out of the sand to thesurface, where it lay covered all over with the grit that clung to it.It was securely locked and fastened with a padlock, and it took a goodmany blows with the blade of the spade to burst the bolt. Parson Joneshimself lifted the lid. Tom Chist leaned forward and gazed down into theopen box. He would not have been surprised to have seen it filled fullof yellow gold and bright jewels. It was filled half full of books andpapers, and half full of canvas bags tied safely and securely around andaround with cords of string.

Parson Jones lifted out one of the bags, and it jingled as he did so. Itwas full of money.

He cut the string, and with trembling, shaking hands handed the bag toTom, who, in an ecstasy of wonder and dizzy with delight, poured outwith swimming sight upon the coat spread on the ground a cataract ofshining silver money that rang and twinkled and jingled as it fell in ashining heap upon the coarse cloth.

Parson Jones held up both hands into the air, and Tom stared at what hesaw, wondering whether it was all so, and whether he was really awake.It seemed to him as though he was in a dream.

There were two-and-twenty bags in all in the chest: ten of them full ofsilver money, eight of them full of gold money, three of them full ofgold dust, and one small bag with jewels wrapped up in wad cotton andpaper.

"'Tis enough," cried out Parson Jones, "to make us both rich men as longas we live."

The burning summer sun, though sloping in the sky, beat down upon themas hot as fire; but neither of them noticed it. Neither did they noticehunger nor thirst nor fatigue, but sat there as though in a trance, withthe bags of money scattered on the sand around them, a great pile ofmoney heaped upon the coat, and the open chest beside them. It was anhour of sundown before Parson Jones had begun fairly to examine thebooks and papers in the chest.

Of the three books, two were evidently log books of the pirates who hadbeen lying off the mouth of the Delaware Bay all this time. The otherbook was written in Spanish, and was evidently the log book of somecaptured prize.

It was then, sitting there upon the sand, the good old gentleman readingin his high, cracking voice, that they first learned from the bloodyrecords in those two books who it was who had been lying inside the Capeall this time, and that it was the famous Captain Kidd. Every now andthen the reverend gentleman would stop to exclaim, "Oh, the bloodywretch!" or, "Oh, the desperate, cruel villains!" and then would go onreading again a scrap here and a scrap there.

And all the while Tom Chist sat and listened, every now and thenreaching out furtively and touching the heap of money still lying uponthe coat.

One might be inclined to wonder why Captain Kidd had kept those bloodyrecords. He had probably laid them away because they so incriminatedmany of the great people of the colony of New York that, with thebooks in evidence, it would have been impossible to bring the pirate tojustice without dragging a dozen or more fine gentlemen into the dockalong with him. If he could have kept them in his own possession theywould doubtless have been a great weapon of defense to protect him fromthe gallows. Indeed, when Captain Kidd was finally brought to convictionand hung, he was not accused of his piracies, but of striking a mutinousseaman upon the head with a bucket and accidentally killing him. Theauthorities did not dare try him for piracy. He was really hung becausehe was a pirate, and we know that it was the log books that Tom Chistbrought to New York that did the business for him; he was accused andconvicted of manslaughter for killing of his own ship carpenter with abucket.

So Parson Jones, sitting there in the slanting light, read through theseterrible records of piracy, and Tom, with the pile of gold and silvermoney beside him, sat and listened to him.

What a spectacle, if anyone had come upon them! But they were alone,with the vast arch of sky empty above them and the wide white stretch ofsand a desert around them. The sun sank lower and lower, until there wasonly time to glance through the other papers in the chest.

They were nearly all goldsmiths' bills of exchange drawn in favor ofcertain of the most prominent merchants of New York. Parson Jones, as heread over the names, knew of nearly all the gentlemen by hearsay. Aye,here was this gentleman; he thought that name would be among 'em. What?Here is Mr. So-and-so. Well, if all they say is true, the villain hasrobbed one of his own best friends. "I wonder," he said, "why thewretch should have hidden these papers so carefully away with the othertreasures, for they could do him no good?" Then, answering his ownquestion: "Like enough because these will give him a hold over thegentlemen to whom they are drawn so that he can make a good bargain forhis own neck before he gives the bills back to their owners. I tell youwhat it is, Tom," he continued, "it is you yourself shall go to New Yorkand bargain for the return of these papers. 'Twill be as good as anotherfortune to you."

The majority of the bills were drawn in favor of one RichardChillingsworth, Esquire. "And he is," said Parson Jones, "one of therichest men in the province of New York. You shall go to him with thenews of what we have found."

"When shall I go?" said Tom Chist.

"You shall go upon the very first boat we can catch," said the parson.He had turned, still holding the bills in his hand, and was nowfingering over the pile of money that yet lay tumbled out upon the coat."I wonder, Tom," said he, "if you could spare me a score or so of thesedoubloons?"

"You shall have fifty score, if you choose," said Tom, bursting withgratitude and with generosity in his newly found treasure.

"You are as fine a lad as ever I saw, Tom," said the parson, "and I'llthank you to the last day of my life."

Tom scooped up a double handful of silver money. "Take it sir," hesaid, "and you may have as much more as you want of it."

He poured it into the dish that the good man made of his hands, andthe parson made a motion as though to empty it into his pocket. Thenhe stopped, as though a sudden doubt had occurred to him. "I don't knowthat 'tis fit for me to take this pirate money, after all," he said.

"But you are welcome to it," said Tom.

Still the parson hesitated. "Nay," he burst out, "I'll not take it; 'tisblood money." And as he spoke he chucked the whole double handful intothe now empty chest, then arose and dusted the sand from his breeches.Then, with a great deal of bustling energy, he helped to tie the bagsagain and put them all back into the chest.

They reburied the chest in the place whence they had taken it, and thenthe parson folded the precious paper of directions, placed it carefullyin his wallet, and his wallet in his pocket. "Tom," he said, for thetwentieth time, "your fortune has been made this day."

And Tom Chist, as he rattled in his breeches pocket the half dozendoubloons he had kept out of his treasure, felt that what his friend hadsaid was true.

As the two went back homeward across the level space of sand Tom Chistsuddenly stopped stock-still and stood looking about him. "'Twas justhere," he said, digging his heel down into the sand, "that they killedthe poor black man."

"And here he lies buried for all time," said Parson Jones; and as hespoke he dug his cane down into the sand. Tom Chist shuddered. He wouldnot have been surprised if the ferrule of the cane had struck somethingsoft beneath that level surface. But it did not, nor was any sign ofthat tragedy ever seen again. For, whether the pirates had carried awaywhat they had done and buried it elsewhere, or whether the storm inblowing the sand had completely leveled off and hidden all sign of thattragedy where it was enacted, certain it is that it never came to sightagain—at least so far as Tom Chist and the Rev. Hilary Jones ever knew.

VII

This is the story of the treasure box. All that remains now is toconclude the story of Tom Chist, and to tell of what came of him in theend.

He did not go back again to live with old Matt Abrahamson. Parson Joneshad now taken charge of him and his fortunes, and Tom did not have to goback to the fisherman's hut.

Old Abrahamson talked a great deal about it, and would come in his cupsand harangue good Parson Jones, making a vast protestation of what hewould do to Tom—if he ever caught him—for running away. But Tom on allthese occasions kept carefully out of his way, and nothing came of theold man's threatenings.

Tom used to go over to see his foster mother now and then, but alwayswhen the old man was from home. And Molly Abrahamson used to warn himto keep out of her father's way. "He's in as vile a humor as ever I see,Tom," she said; "he sits sulking all day long, and 'tis my belief he'dkill ye if he caught ye."

Of course Tom said nothing, even to her, about the treasure, and he andthe reverend gentleman kept the knowledge thereof to themselves. Aboutthree weeks later Parson Jones managed to get him shipped aboard of avessel bound for New York town, and a few days later Tom Chist landedat that place. He had never been in such a town before, and he couldnot sufficiently wonder and marvel at the number of brick houses, atthe multitude of people coming and going along the fine, hard, earthensidewalk, at the shops and the stores where goods hung in the windows,and, most of all, the fortifications and the battery at the point,at the rows of threatening cannon, and at the scarlet-coated sentriespacing up and down the ramparts. All this was very wonderful, and sowere the clustered boats riding at anchor in the harbor. It was like anew world, so different was it from the sand hills and the sedgy levelsof Henlopen.

Tom Chist took up his lodgings at a coffee house near to the town hall,and thence he sent by the postboy a letter written by Parson Jonesto Master Chillingsworth. In a little while the boy returned witha message, asking Tom to come up to Mr. Chillingsworth's house thatafternoon at two o'clock.

Tom went thither with a great deal of trepidation, and his heart fellaway altogether when he found it a fine, grand brick house, threestories high, and with wrought-iron letters across the front.

The counting house was in the same building; but Tom, because of Mr.Jones's letter, was conducted directly into the parlor, where the greatrich man was awaiting his coming. He was sitting in a leather-coveredarmchair, smoking a pipe of tobacco, and with a bottle of fine oldMadeira close to his elbow.

Tom had not had a chance to buy a new suit of clothes yet, and so hecut no very fine figure in the rough dress he had brought with him fromHenlopen. Nor did Mr. Chillingsworth seem to think very highly of hisappearance, for he sat looking sideways at Tom as he smoked.

"Well, my lad," he said, "and what is this great thing you have totell me that is so mightily wonderful? I got what's-his-name—Mr.Jones's—letter, and now I am ready to hear what you have to say."

But if he thought but little of his visitor's appearance at first, hesoon changed his sentiments toward him, for Tom had not spoken twentywords when Mr. Chillingsworth's whole aspect changed. He straightenedhimself up in his seat, laid aside his pipe, pushed away his glass ofMadeira, and bade Tom take a chair.

He listened without a word as Tom Chist told of the buried treasure, ofhow he had seen the poor negro murdered, and of how he and ParsonJones had recovered the chest again. Only once did Mr. Chillingsworthinterrupt the narrative. "And to think," he cried, "that the villainthis very day walks about New York town as though he were an honest man,ruffling it with the best of us! But if we can only get hold of theselog books you speak of. Go on; tell me more of this."

When Tom Chist's narrative was ended, Mr. Chillingsworth's bearing wasas different as daylight is from dark. He asked a thousand questions,all in the most polite and gracious tone imaginable, and not only urgeda glass of his fine old Madeira upon Tom, but asked him to stayto supper. There was nobody to be there, he said, but his wife anddaughter.

Tom, all in a panic at the very thought of the two ladies, sturdilyrefused to stay even for the dish of tea Mr. Chillingsworth offered him.

He did not know that he was destined to stay there as long as he shouldlive.

"And now," said Mr. Chillingsworth, "tell me about yourself."

"I have nothing to tell, Your Honor," said Tom, "except that I waswashed up out of the sea."

"Washed up out of the sea!" exclaimed Mr. Chillingsworth. "Why, how wasthat? Come, begin at the beginning, and tell me all."

Thereupon Tom Chist did as he was bidden, beginning at the verybeginning and telling everything just as Molly Abrahamson had often toldit to him. As he continued, Mr. Chillingsworth's interest changed intoan appearance of stronger and stronger excitement. Suddenly he jumped upout of his chair and began to walk up and down the room.

"Stop! stop!" he cried out at last, in the midst of something Tom wassaying. "Stop! stop! Tell me; do you know the name of the vessel thatwas wrecked, and from which you were washed ashore?"

"I've heard it said," said Tom Chist, "'twas the Bristol Merchant."

"I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the great man, in a loud voice,flinging his hands up into the air. "I felt it was so the moment youbegan the story. But tell me this, was there nothing found with you witha mark or a name upon it?"

"There was a kerchief," said Tom, "marked with a T and a C."

"Theodosia Chillingsworth!" cried out the merchant. "I knew it! I knewit! Heavens! to think of anything so wonderful happening as this! Boy!boy! dost thou know who thou art? Thou art my own brother's son. Hisname was Oliver Chillingsworth, and he was my partner in business,and thou art his son." Then he ran out into the entryway, shouting andcalling for his wife and daughter to come.

So Tom Chist—or Thomas Chillingsworth, as he now was to be called—didstay to supper, after all.

This is the story, and I hope you may like it. For Tom Chist becamerich and great, as was to be supposed, and he married his pretty cousinTheodosia (who had been named for his own mother, drowned in the BristolMerchant).

He did not forget his friends, but had Parson Jones brought to New Yorkto live.

As to Molly and Matt Abrahamson, they both enjoyed a pension of tenpounds a year for as long as they lived; for now that all was well withhim, Tom bore no grudge against the old fisherman for all the drubbingshe had suffered.

The treasure box was brought on to New York, and if Tom Chist did notget all the money there was in it (as Parson Jones had opined he would)he got at least a good big lump of it.

And it is my belief that those log books did more to get Captain Kiddarrested in Boston town and hanged in London than anything else that wasbrought up against him.

Chapter V. JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES

I

WE, of these times, protected as we are by the laws and by the numberof people about us, can hardly comprehend such a life as that of theAmerican colonies in the early part of the eighteenth century, whenit was possible for a pirate like Capt. Teach, known as Blackbeard, toexist, and for the governor and the secretary of the province in whichhe lived perhaps to share his plunder, and to shelter and to protect himagainst the law.

At that time the American colonists were in general a rough, ruggedpeople, knowing nothing of the finer things of life. They lived mostlyin little settlements, separated by long distances from one another,so that they could neither make nor enforce laws to protect themselves.Each man or little group of men had to depend upon his or their ownstrength to keep what belonged to them, and to prevent fierce men orgroups of men from seizing what did not belong to them.

It is the natural disposition of everyone to get all that he can. Littlechildren, for instance, always try to take away from others that whichthey want, and to keep it for their own. It is only by constant teachingthat they learn that they must not do so; that they must not takeby force what does not belong to them. So it is only by teaching andtraining that people learn to be honest and not to take what is nottheirs. When this teaching is not sufficient to make a man learn to behonest, or when there is something in the man's nature that makes himnot able to learn, then he only lacks the opportunity to seize upon thethings he wants, just as he would do if he were a little child.

In the colonies at that time, as was just said, men were too few andscattered to protect themselves against those who had made up theirminds to take by force that which they wanted, and so it was that menlived an unrestrained and lawless life, such as we of these times ofbetter government can hardly comprehend.

The usual means of commerce between province and province was by waterin coasting vessels. These coasting vessels were so defenseless, and thedifferent colonial governments were so ill able to protect them,that those who chose to rob them could do it almost without danger tothemselves.

So it was that all the western world was, in those days, infestedwith armed bands of cruising freebooters or pirates, who used to stopmerchant vessels and take from them what they chose.

Each province in those days was ruled over by a royal governor appointedby the king. Each governor, at one time, was free to do almost as hepleased in his own province. He was accountable only to the king and hisgovernment, and England was so distant that he was really responsiblealmost to nobody but himself.

The governors were naturally just as desirous to get rich quickly,just as desirous of getting all that they could for themselves, as wasanybody else only they had been taught and had been able to learn thatit was not right to be an actual pirate or robber. They wanted to berich easily and quickly, but the desire was not strong enough to leadthem to dishonor themselves in their own opinion and in the opinion ofothers by gratifying their selfishness. They would even have stoppedthe pirates from doing what they did if they could, but their provincialgovernments were too weak to prevent the freebooters from robbingmerchant vessels, or to punish them when they came ashore. The provinceshad no navies, and they really had no armies; neither were there enoughpeople living within the community to enforce the laws against thosestronger and fiercer men who were not honest.

After the things the pirates seized from merchant vessels were oncestolen they were altogether lost. Almost never did any owner apply forthem, for it would be useless to do so. The stolen goods and merchandiselay in the storehouses of the pirates, seemingly without any ownerexcepting the pirates themselves.

The governors and the secretaries of the colonies would not dishonorthemselves by pirating upon merchant vessels, but it did not seem sowicked after the goods were stolen—and so altogether lost—to take apart of that which seemed to have no owner.

A child is taught that it is a very wicked thing to take, for instance,by force, a lump of sugar from another child; but when a wicked childhas seized the sugar from another and taken it around the corner, andthat other child from whom he has seized it has gone home crying, itdoes not seem so wicked for the third child to take a bite of the sugarwhen it is offered to him, even if he thinks it has been taken from someone else.

It was just so, no doubt, that it did not seem so wicked to GovernorEden and Secretary Knight of North Carolina, or to Governor Fletcher ofNew York, or to other colonial governors, to take a part of the bootythat the pirates, such as Blackbeard, had stolen. It did not even seemvery wicked to compel such pirates to give up a part of what was nottheirs, and which seemed to have no owner.

In Governor Eden's time, however, the colonies had begun to be morethickly peopled, and the laws had gradually become stronger and strongerto protect men in the possession of what was theirs. Governor Eden wasthe last of the colonial governors who had dealings with the pirates,and Blackbeard was almost the last of the pirates who, with his bandedmen, was savage and powerful enough to come and go as he chose among thepeople whom he plundered.

Virginia, at that time, was the greatest and the richest of all theAmerican colonies, and upon the farther side of North Carolina wasthe province of South Carolina, also strong and rich. It was these twocolonies that suffered the most from Blackbeard, and it began to bethat the honest men that lived in them could endure no longer to beplundered.

The merchants and traders and others who suffered cried out loudly forprotection, so loudly that the governors of these provinces could nothelp hearing them.

Governor Eden was petitioned to act against the pirates, but he woulddo nothing, for he felt very friendly toward Blackbeard—just as a childwho has had a taste of the stolen sugar feels friendly toward the childwho gives it to him.

At last, when Blackbeard sailed up into the very heart of Virginia,and seized upon and carried away the daughter of that colony's foremostpeople, the governor of Virginia, finding that the governor of NorthCarolina would do nothing to punish the outrage, took the matter intohis own hands and issued a proclamation offering a reward of one hundredpounds for Blackbeard, alive or dead, and different sums for the otherpirates who were his followers.

Governor Spottiswood had the right to issue the proclamation, but he hadno right to commission Lieutenant Maynard, as he did, to take down anarmed force into the neighboring province and to attack the pirates inthe waters of the North Carolina sounds. It was all a part of the rudeand lawless condition of the colonies at the time that such a thingcould have been done.

The governor's proclamation against the pirates was issued upon theeleventh day of November. It was read in the churches the Sundayfollowing and was posted upon the doors of all the government customoffices in lower Virginia. Lieutenant Maynard, in the boats that ColonelParker had already fitted out to go against the pirates, set sail uponthe seventeenth of the month for Ocracoke. Five days later the battlewas fought.

Blackbeard's sloop was lying inside of Ocracoke Inlet among theshoals and sand bars when he first heard of Governor Spottiswood'sproclamation.

There had been a storm, and a good many vessels had run into theinlet for shelter. Blackbeard knew nearly all of the captains of thesevessels, and it was from them that he first heard of the proclamation.

He had gone aboard one of the vessels—a coaster from Boston. The windwas still blowing pretty hard from the southeast. There were maybe adozen vessels lying within the inlet at that time, and the captain ofone of them was paying the Boston skipper a visit when Blackbeard cameaboard. The two captains had been talking together. They instantlyceased when the pirate came down into the cabin, but he had heard enoughof their conversation to catch its drift. "Why d'ye stop?" he said."I heard what you said. Well, what then? D'ye think I mind it at all?Spottiswood is going to send his bullies down here after me. That'swhat you were saying. Well, what then? You don't think I'm afraid of hisbullies, do you?"

"Why, no, Captain, I didn't say you was afraid," said the visitingcaptain.

"And what right has he got to send down here against me in NorthCarolina, I should like to ask you?"

"He's got none at all," said the Boston captain, soothingly. "Won't youtake a taste of Hollands, Captain?"

"He's no more right to come blustering down here into Governor Eden'sprovince than I have to come aboard of your schooner here, Tom Burley,and to carry off two or three kegs of this prime Hollands for my owndrinking."

Captain Burley—the Boston man—laughed a loud, forced laugh. "Why,Captain," he said, "as for two or three kegs of Hollands, you won'tfind that aboard. But if you'd like to have a keg of it for your owndrinking, I'll send it to you and be glad enough to do so for oldacquaintance' sake."

"But I tell you what 'tis, Captain," said the visiting skipper toBlackbeard, "they're determined and set against you this time. I tellyou, Captain, Governor Spottiswood hath issued a hot proclamationagainst you, and 't hath been read out in all the churches. I myselfsaw it posted in Yorktown upon the customhouse door and read it theremyself. The governor offers one hundred pounds for you, and fifty poundsfor your officers, and twenty pounds each for your men."

"Well, then," said Blackbeard, holding up his glass, "here, I wish 'emgood luck, and when they get their hundred pounds for me they'll be in apoor way to spend it. As for the Hollands," said he, turning to CaptainBurley, "I know what you've got aboard here and what you haven't. D'yesuppose ye can blind me? Very well, you send over two kegs, and I'll letyou go without search." The two captains were very silent. "As for thatLieutenant Maynard you're all talking about," said Blackbeard, "why, Iknow him very well. He was the one who was so busy with the pirates downMadagascar way. I believe you'd all like to see him blow me out of thewater, but he can't do it. There's nobody in His Majesty's service I'drather meet than Lieutenant Maynard. I'd teach him pretty briskly thatNorth Carolina isn't Madagascar."

On the evening of the twenty-second the two vessels under command ofLieutenant Maynard came into the mouth of Ocracoke Inlet and theredropped anchor. Meantime the weather had cleared, and all the vesselsbut one had gone from the inlet. The one vessel that remained was a NewYorker. It had been there over a night and a day, and the captain andBlackbeard had become very good friends.

The same night that Maynard came into the inlet a wedding was held onthe shore. A number of men and women came up the beach in oxcarts andsledges; others had come in boats from more distant points and acrossthe water.

The captain of the New Yorker and Blackbeard went ashore together alittle after dark. The New Yorker had been aboard of the pirate's sloopfor all the latter part of the afternoon, and he and Blackbeard had beendrinking together in the cabin. The New York man was now a little tipsy,and he laughed and talked foolishly as he and Blackbeard were rowedashore. The pirate sat grim and silent.

It was nearly dark when they stepped ashore on the beach. The New Yorkcaptain stumbled and fell headlong, rolling over and over, and the crewof the boat burst out laughing.

The people had already begun to dance in an open shed fronting upon theshore. There were fires of pine knots in front of the building, lightingup the interior with a red glare. A negro was playing a fiddle somewhereinside, and the shed was filled with a crowd of grotesque dancingfigures—men and women. Now and then they called with loud voices asthey danced, and the squeaking of the fiddle sounded incessantly throughthe noise of outcries and the stamp and shuffling of feet.

Captain Teach and the New York captain stood looking on. The New Yorkman had tilted himself against a post and stood there holding one armaround it, supporting himself. He waved the other hand foolishly in timeto the music, now and then snapping his thumb and finger.

The young woman who had just been married approached the two. She hadbeen dancing, and she was warm and red, her hair blowzed about her head."Hi, Captain, won't you dance with me?" she said to Blackbeard.

Blackbeard stared at her. "Who be you?" he said.

She burst out laughing. "You look as if you'd eat a body," she cried.

Blackbeard's face gradually relaxed. "Why, to be sure, you're a brazenone, for all the world," he said. "Well, I'll dance with you, that Iwill. I'll dance the heart out of you."

He pushed forward, thrusting aside with his elbow the newly madehusband. The man, who saw that Blackbeard had been drinking, burst outlaughing, and the other men and women who had been standing around drewaway, so that in a little while the floor was pretty well cleared. Onecould see the negro now; he sat on a barrel at the end of the room.He grinned with his white teeth and, without stopping in his fiddling,scraped his bow harshly across the strings, and then instantly changedthe tune to a lively jig. Blackbeard jumped up into the air and clappedhis heels together, giving, as he did so, a sharp, short yell. Thenhe began instantly dancing grotesquely and violently. The woman dancedopposite to him, this way and that, with her knuckles on her hips.Everybody burst out laughing at Blackbeard's grotesque antics. Theylaughed again and again, clapping their hands, and the negro scrapedaway on his fiddle like fury. The woman's hair came tumbling down herback. She tucked it back, laughing and panting, and the sweat ran downher face. She danced and danced. At last she burst out laughing andstopped, panting. Blackbeard again jumped up in the air and clapped hisheels. Again he yelled, and as he did so, he struck his heels upon thefloor and spun around. Once more everybody burst out laughing, clappingtheir hands, and the negro stopped fiddling.

Near by was a shanty or cabin where they were selling spirits, and byand by Blackbeard went there with the New York captain, and presentlythey began drinking again. "Hi, Captain!" called one of the men,"Maynard's out yonder in the inlet. Jack Bishop's just come across fromt'other side. He says Mr. Maynard hailed him and asked for a pilot tofetch him in."

"Well, here's luck to him, and he can't come in quick enough for me!"cried out Blackbeard in his hoarse, husky voice.

"Well, Captain," called a voice, "will ye fight him to-morrow?"

"Aye," shouted the pirate, "if he can get in to me, I'll try to give'em what they seek, and all they want of it into the bargain. As fora pilot, I tell ye what 'tis—if any man hereabouts goes out there topilot that villain in 'twill be the worst day's work he ever did in allof his life. 'Twon't be fit for him to live in these parts of America ifI am living here at the same time." There was a burst of laughter.

"Give us a toast, Captain! Give us something to drink to! Aye, Captain,a toast! A toast!" a half dozen voices were calling out at the sametime.

"Well," cried out the pirate captain, "here's to a good, hot fightto-morrow, and the best dog on top! 'Twill be, Bang! bang!—this way!"

He began pulling a pistol out of his pocket, but it stuck in the lining,and he struggled and tugged at it. The men ducked and scrambled awayfrom before him, and then the next moment he had the pistol out ofhis pocket. He swung it around and around. There was perfect silence.Suddenly there was a flash and a stunning report, and instantly a crashand tinkle of broken glass. One of the men cried out, and began pickingand jerking at the back of his neck. "He's broken that bottle all downmy neck," he called out.

"That's the way 'twill be," said Blackbeard.

"Lookee," said the owner of the place, "I won't serve out another dropif 'tis going to be like that. If there's any more trouble I'll blow outthe lantern."

The sound of the squeaking and scraping of the fiddle and the shouts andthe scuffling feet still came from the shed where the dancing was goingon.

"Suppose you get your dose to-morrow, Captain," some one called out,"what then?"

"Why, if I do," said Blackbeard, "I get it, and that's all there is ofit."

"Your wife'll be a rich widdy then, won't she?" cried one of the men;and there was a burst of laughter.

"Why," said the New York captain,—"why, has a—a bloody p-pirate likeyou a wife then—a—like any honest man?"

"She'll be no richer than she is now," said Blackbeard.

"She knows where you've hid your money, anyways. Don't she, Captain?"called out a voice.

"The civil knows where I've hid my money," said Blackbeard, "and I knowwhere I've hid it; and the longest liver of the twain will git it all.And that's all there is of it."

The gray of early day was beginning to show in the east when Blackbeardand the New York captain came down to the landing together. The New Yorkcaptain swayed and toppled this way and that as he walked, now fallingagainst Blackbeard, and now staggering away from him.

II

Early in the morning—perhaps eight o'clock—Lieutenant Maynard sent aboat from the schooner over to the settlement, which lay some fouror five miles distant. A number of men stood lounging on the landing,watching the approach of the boat. The men rowed close up to the wharf,and there lay upon their oars, while the boatswain of the schooner,who was in command of the boat, stood up and asked if there was any manthere who could pilot them over the shoals.

Nobody answered, but all stared stupidly at him. After a while one ofthe men at last took his pipe out of his mouth. "There ben't any pilothere, master," said he; "we ben't pilots."

"Why, what a story you do tell!" roared the boatswain. "D'ye supposeI've never been down here before, not to know that every man about hereknows the passes of the shoals?"

The fellow still held his pipe in his hand. He looked at another one ofthe men. "Do you know the passes in over the shoals, Jem?" said he.

The man to whom he spoke was a young fellow with long, shaggy, sunburnthair hanging over his eyes in an unkempt mass. He shook his head,grunting, "Na—I don't know naught about t' shoals."

"'Tis Lieutenant Maynard of His Majesty's navy in command of themvessels out there," said the boatswain. "He'll give any man five poundto pilot him in." The men on the wharf looked at one another, but stillno one spoke, and the boatswain stood looking at them. He saw that theydid not choose to answer him. "Why," he said, "I believe you've not gotright wits—that's what I believe is the matter with you. Pull me upto the landing, men, and I'll go ashore and see if I can find anybodythat's willing to make five pound for such a little bit of piloting asthat."

After the boatswain had gone ashore the loungers still stood on thewharf, looking down into the boat, and began talking to one another forthe men below to hear them. "They're coming in," said one, "to blow poorBlackbeard out of the water." "Aye," said another, "he's so peaceable,too, he is; he'll just lay still and let 'em blow and blow, he will.""There's a young fellow there," said another of the men; "he don't lookfit to die yet, he don't. Why, I wouldn't be in his place for a thousandpound." "I do suppose Blackbeard's so afraid he don't know how to see,"said the first speaker.

At last one of the men in the boat spoke up. "Maybe he don't know how tosee," said he, "but maybe we'll blow some daylight into him afore we getthrough with him."

Some more of the settlers had come out from the shore to the end of thewharf, and there was now quite a crowd gathering there, all looking atthe men in the boat. "What do them Virginny 'baccy-eaters do down herein Caroliny, anyway?" said one of the newcomers. "They've got no call tobe down here in North Caroliny waters."

"Maybe you can keep us away from coming, and maybe you can't," said avoice from the boat.

"Why," answered the man on the wharf, "we could keep you away easyenough, but you ben't worth the trouble, and that's the truth."

There was a heavy iron bolt lying near the edge of the landing. One ofthe men upon the wharf slyly thrust it out with the end of his foot. Ithung for a moment and then fell into the boat below with a crash. "Whatd'ye mean by that?" roared the man in charge of the boat. "What d'yemean, ye villains? D'ye mean to stave a hole in us?"

"Why," said the man who had pushed it, "you saw 'twasn't done a purpose,didn't you?"

"Well, you try it again, and somebody'll get hurt," said the man in theboat, showing the butt end of his pistol.

The men on the wharf began laughing. Just then the boatswain came downfrom the settlement again, and out along the landing. The threatenedturbulence quieted as he approached, and the crowd moved sullenly asideto let him pass. He did not bring any pilot with him, and he jumped downinto the stern of the boat, saying, briefly, "Push off." The crowd ofloungers stood looking after them as they rowed away, and when theboat was some distance from the landing they burst out into a volleyof derisive yells. "The villains!" said the boatswain, "they are all inleague together. They wouldn't even let me go up into the settlement tolook for a pilot."

The lieutenant and his sailing master stood watching the boat asit approached. "Couldn't you, then, get a pilot, Baldwin?" said Mr.Maynard, as the boatswain scrambled aboard.

"No, I couldn't, sir," said the man. "Either they're all bandedtogether, or else they're all afraid of the villains. They wouldn't evenlet me go up into the settlement to find one."

"Well, then," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll make shift to work in as best wemay by ourselves. 'Twill be high tide against one o'clock. We'll run inthen with sail as far as we can, and then we'll send you ahead with theboat to sound for a pass, and we'll follow with the sweeps. You know thewaters pretty well, you say."

"They were saying ashore that the villain hath forty men aboard," saidthe boatswain.(2)

(2) The pirate captain had really only twenty-five men     aboard of his ship at the time of the battle.

Lieutenant Maynard's force consisted of thirty-five men in the schoonerand twenty-five men in the sloop. He carried neither cannons norcarronades, and neither of his vessels was very well fitted for thepurpose for which they were designed. The schooner, which he himselfcommanded, offered almost no protection to the crew. The rail was notmore than a foot high in the waist, and the men on the deck were almostentirely exposed. The rail of the sloop was perhaps a little higher, butit, too, was hardly better adapted for fighting. Indeed, the lieutenantdepended more upon the moral force of official authority to overawethe pirates than upon any real force of arms or men. He never believed,until the very last moment, that the pirates would show any real fight.It is very possible that they might not have done so had they notthought that the lieutenant had actually no legal right supporting himin his attack upon them in North Carolina waters.

It was about noon when anchor was hoisted, and, with the schoonerleading, both vessels ran slowly in before a light wind that had begunto blow toward midday. In each vessel a man stood in the bows, soundingcontinually with lead and line. As they slowly opened up the harborwithin the inlet, they could see the pirate sloop lying about threemiles away. There was a boat just putting off from it to the shore.

The lieutenant and his sailing master stood together on the roof ofthe cabin deckhouse. The sailing master held a glass to his eye. "Shecarries a long gun, sir," he said, "and four carronades. She'll be hardto beat, sir, I do suppose, armed as we are with only light arms forclose fighting."

The lieutenant laughed. "Why, Brookes," he said, "you seem to thinkforever of these men showing fight. You don't know them as I know them.They have a deal of bluster and make a deal of noise, but when you seizethem and hold them with a strong hand, there's naught of fight left inthem. 'Tis like enough there'll not be so much as a musket fired to-day.I've had to do with 'em often enough before to know my gentlemen wellby this time." Nor, as was said, was it until the very last that thelieutenant could be brought to believe that the pirates had any stomachfor a fight.

The two vessels had reached perhaps within a mile of the pirate sloopbefore they found the water too shoal to venture any farther withthe sail. It was then that the boat was lowered as the lieutenant hadplanned, and the boatswain went ahead to sound, the two vessels, withtheir sails still hoisted but empty of wind, pulling in after withsweeps.

The pirate had also hoisted sail, but lay as though waiting for theapproach of the schooner and the sloop.

The boat in which the boatswain was sounding had run in a considerabledistance ahead of the two vessels, which were gradually creeping up withthe sweeps until they had reached to within less than half a mile of thepirates—the boat with the boatswain maybe a quarter of a mile closer.Suddenly there was a puff of smoke from the pirate sloop, and thenanother and another, and the next moment there came the three reports ofmuskets up the wind.

"By zounds!" said the lieutenant. "I do believe they're firing on theboat!" And then he saw the boat turn and begin pulling toward them.

The boat with the boatswain aboard came rowing rapidly. Again there werethree or four puffs of smoke and three or four subsequent reports fromthe distant vessel. Then, in a little while, the boat was alongside, andthe boatswain came scrambling aboard. "Never mind hoisting the boat,"said the lieutenant; "we'll just take her in tow. Come aboard as quickas you can." Then, turning to the sailing master, "Well, Brookes, you'llhave to do the best you can to get in over the shoals under half sail."

"But, sir," said the master, "we'll be sure to run aground."

"Very well, sir," said the lieutenant, "you heard my orders. If we runaground we run aground, and that's all there is of it."

"I sounded as far as maybe a little over a fathom," said the mate, "butthe villains would let me go no nearer. I think I was in the channel,though. 'Tis more open inside, as I mind me of it. There's a kind ofa hole there, and if we get in over the shoals just beyond where I waswe'll be all right."

"Very well, then, you take the wheel, Baldwin," said the lieutenant,"and do the best you can for us."

Lieutenant Maynard stood looking out forward at the pirate vessel, whichthey were now steadily nearing under half sail. He could see that therewere signs of bustle aboard and of men running around upon the deck.Then he walked aft and around the cabin. The sloop was some distanceastern. It appeared to have run aground, and they were trying to push itoff with the sweeps. The lieutenant looked down into the water overthe stern, and saw that the schooner was already raising the mud in herwane. Then he went forward along the deck. His men were crouching downalong by the low rail, and there was a tense quietness of expectationabout them. The lieutenant looked them over as he passed them."Johnson," he said, "do you take the lead and line and go forward andsound a bit." Then to the others: "Now, my men, the moment we run heraboard, you get aboard of her as quick as you can, do you understand?Don't wait for the sloop or think about her, but just see that thegrappling irons are fast, and then get aboard. If any man offers toresist you, shoot him down. Are you ready, Mr. Cringle?"

"Aye, aye, sir," said the gunner.

"Very well, then, be ready, men; we'll be aboard 'em in a minute ortwo."

"There's less than a fathom of water here, sir," sang out Johnson fromthe bows. As he spoke there was a sudden soft jar and jerk, then theschooner was still. They were aground. "Push her off to the lee there!Let go your sheets!" roared the boatswain from the wheel. "Push her offto the lee." He spun the wheel around as he spoke. A half a dozen mensprang up, seized the sweeps, and plunged them into the water. Othersran to help them, but the sweeps only sank into the mud without movingthe schooner. The sails had fallen off and they were flapping andthumping and clapping in the wind. Others of the crew had scrambledto their feet and ran to help those at the sweeps. The lieutenant hadwalked quickly aft again. They were very close now to the pirate sloop,and suddenly some one hailed him from aboard of her. When he turned hesaw that there was a man standing up on the rail of the pirate sloop,holding by the back stays. "Who are you?" he called, from the distance,"and whence come you? What do you seek here? What d'ye mean, coming downon us this way?"

The lieutenant heard somebody say, "That's Blackbeard hisself." And helooked with great interest at the distant figure.

The pirate stood out boldly against the cloudy sky. Somebody seemed tospeak to him from behind. He turned his head and then he turned roundagain. "We're only peaceful merchantmen!" he called out. "What authorityhave you got to come down upon us this way? If you'll come aboard I'llshow you my papers and that we're only peaceful merchantmen."

"The villains!" said the lieutenant to the master, who stood besidehim. "They're peaceful merchantmen, are they! They look like peacefulmerchantmen, with four carronades and a long gun aboard!" Then he calledout across the water, "I'll come aboard with my schooner as soon as Ican push her off here."

"If you undertake to come aboard of me," called the pirate, "I'll shootinto you. You've got no authority to board me, and I won't have you doit. If you undertake it 'twill be at your own risk, for I'll neither askquarter of you nor give none."

"Very well," said the lieutenant, "if you choose to try that, you may doas you please; for I'm coming aboard of you as sure as heaven."

"Push off the bow there!" called the boatswain at the wheel. "Lookalive! Why don't you push off the bow?"

"She's hard aground!" answered the gunner. "We can't budge her an inch."

"If they was to fire into us now," said the sailing master, "they'dsmash us to pieces."

"They won't fire into us," said the lieutenant. "They won't dare to."He jumped down from the cabin deckhouse as he spoke, and went forward tourge the men in pushing off the boat. It was already beginning to move.

At that moment the sailing master suddenly called out, "Mr. Maynard! Mr.Maynard! they're going to give us a broadside!"

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, before Lieutenant Maynardcould turn, there came a loud and deafening crash, and then instantlyanother, and a third, and almost as instantly a crackling and rending ofbroken wood. There were clean yellow splinters flying everywhere. A manfell violently against the lieutenant, nearly overturning him, but hecaught at the stays and so saved himself. For one tense moment he stoodholding his breath. Then all about him arose a sudden outcry of groansand shouts and oaths. The man who had fallen against him was lying facedown upon the deck. His thighs were quivering, and a pool of blood wasspreading and running out from under him. There were other men down, allabout the deck. Some were rising; some were trying to rise; some onlymoved.

There was a distant sound of yelling and cheering and shouting. It wasfrom the pirate sloop. The pirates were rushing about upon her decks.They had pulled the cannon back, and, through the grunting sound ofthe groans about him, the lieutenant could distinctly hear the thud andpunch of the rammers, and he knew they were going to shoot again.

The low rail afforded almost no shelter against such a broadside, andthere was nothing for it but to order all hands below for the timebeing.

"Get below!" roared out the lieutenant. "All hands get below and liesnug for further orders!" In obedience the men ran scrambling below intothe hold, and in a little while the decks were nearly clear exceptfor the three dead men and some three or four wounded. The boatswain,crouching down close to the wheel, and the lieutenant himself were theonly others upon deck. Everywhere there were smears and sprinkles ofblood. "Where's Brookes?" the lieutenant called out.

"He's hurt in the arm, sir, and he's gone below," said the boatswain.

Thereupon the lieutenant himself walked over to the forecastle hatch,and, hailing the gunner, ordered him to get up another ladder, so thatthe men could be run up on deck if the pirates should undertake to comeaboard. At that moment the boatswain at the wheel called out that thevillains were going to shoot again, and the lieutenant, turning, saw thegunner aboard of the pirate sloop in the act of touching the iron to thetouchhole. He stooped down. There was another loud and deafening crashof cannon, one, two, three—four—the last two almost together—andalmost instantly the boatswain called out, "'Tis the sloop, sir! look atthe sloop!"

The sloop had got afloat again, and had been coming up to the aid of theschooner, when the pirates fired their second broadside now at her. Whenthe lieutenant looked at her she was quivering with the impact of theshot, and the next moment she began falling off to the wind, and hecould see the wounded men rising and falling and struggling upon herdecks.

At the same moment the boatswain called out that the enemy was comingaboard, and even as he spoke the pirate sloop came drifting out from thecloud of smoke that enveloped her, looming up larger and larger as shecame down upon them. The lieutenant still crouched down under the rail,looking out at them. Suddenly, a little distance away, she came about,broadside on, and then drifted. She was close aboard now. Something cameflying through the air—another and another. They were bottles. One ofthem broke with a crash upon the deck. The others rolled over tothe farther rail. In each of them a quick-match was smoking. Almostinstantly there was a flash and a terrific report, and the air was fullof the whiz and singing of broken particles of glass and iron. There wasanother report, and then the whole air seemed full of gunpowder smoke."They're aboard of us!" shouted the boatswain, and even as he spoke thelieutenant roared out, "All hands to repel boarders!" A second laterthere came the heavy, thumping bump of the vessels coming together.

Lieutenant Maynard, as he called out the order, ran forward through thesmoke, snatching one of his pistols out of his pocket and the cutlassout of its sheath as he did so. Behind him the men were coming, swarmingup from below. There was a sudden stunning report of a pistol, and thenanother and another, almost together. There was a groan and the fall ofa heavy body, and then a figure came jumping over the rail, with two orthree more directly following. The lieutenant was in the midst of thegun powder smoke, when suddenly Blackbeard was before him. The piratecaptain had stripped himself naked to the waist. His shaggy black hairwas falling over his eyes, and he looked like a demon fresh from thepit, with his frantic face. Almost with the blindness of instinct thelieutenant thrust out his pistol, firing it as he did so. The piratestaggered back: he was down—no; he was up again. He had a pistol ineach hand; but there was a stream of blood running down his nakedribs. Suddenly, the mouth of a pistol was pointing straight at thelieutenant's head. He ducked instinctively, striking upward with hiscutlass as he did so. There was a stunning, deafening report almost inhis ear. He struck again blindly with his cutlass. He saw the flash of asword and flung up his guard almost instinctively, meeting the crashof the descending blade. Somebody shot from behind him, and at the samemoment he saw some one else strike the pirate. Blackbeard staggeredagain, and this time there was a great gash upon his neck. Then one ofMaynard's own men tumbled headlong upon him. He fell with the man, butalmost instantly he had scrambled to his feet again, and as he did so hesaw that the pirate sloop had drifted a little away from them, and thattheir grappling irons had evidently parted. His hand was smarting asthough struck with the lash of a whip. He looked around him; the piratecaptain was nowhere to be seen—yes, there he was, lying by the rail. Heraised himself upon his elbow, and the lieutenant saw that he was tryingto point a pistol at him, with an arm that wavered and swayed blindly,the pistol nearly falling from his fingers. Suddenly his other elbowgave way and he fell down upon his face. He tried to raise himself—hefell down again. There was a report and a cloud of smoke, and when itcleared away Blackbeard had staggered up again. He was a terrible figurehis head nodding down upon his breast. Somebody shot again, and then theswaying figure toppled and fell. It lay still for a moment—then rolledover—then lay still again.

There was a loud splash of men jumping overboard, and then, almostinstantly, the cry of "Quarter! quarter!" The lieutenant ran to theedge of the vessel. It was as he had thought: the grappling irons of thepirate sloop had parted, and it had drifted away. The few pirates whohad been left aboard of the schooner had jumped overboard and were nowholding up their hands. "Quarter!" they cried. "Don't shoot!—quarter!"And the fight was over.

The lieutenant looked down at his hand, and then he saw, for the firsttime, that there was a great cutlass gash across the back of it, andthat his arm and shirt sleeve were wet with blood. He went aft, holdingthe wrist of his wounded hand. The boatswain was still at the wheel. "Byzounds!" said the lieutenant, with a nervous, quavering laugh, "I didn'tknow there was such fight in the villains."

His wounded and shattered sloop was again coming up toward him undersail, but the pirates had surrendered, and the fight was over.

Chapter VI. BLUESKIN THE PIRATE

I

CAPE MAY and Cape Henlopen form, as it were, the upper and lower jaws ofa gigantic mouth, which disgorges from its monstrous gullet the cloudywaters of the Delaware Bay into the heaving, sparkling blue-green ofthe Atlantic Ocean. From Cape Henlopen as the lower jaw there juts out along, curving fang of high, smooth-rolling sand dunes, cutting sharp andclean against the still, blue sky above silent, naked, utterly deserted,excepting for the squat, white-walled lighthouse standing upon the crestof the highest hill. Within this curving, sheltering hook of sand hillslie the smooth waters of Lewes Harbor, and, set a little back from theshore, the quaint old town, with its dingy wooden houses of clapboardand shingle, looks sleepily out through the masts of the shipping lyingat anchor in the harbor, to the purple, clean-cut, level thread of theocean horizon beyond.

Lewes is a queer, odd, old-fashioned little town, smelling fragrant ofsalt marsh and sea breeze. It is rarely visited by strangers. The peoplewho live there are the progeny of people who have lived there for manygenerations, and it is the very place to nurse, and preserve, and carefor old legends and traditions of bygone times, until they grow frombits of gossip and news into local history of considerable size. As inthe busier world men talk of last year's elections, here these old bits,and scraps, and odds and ends of history are retailed to the listenerwho cares to listen—traditions of the War of 1812, when Beresford'sfleet lay off the harbor threatening to bombard the town; tales of theRevolution and of Earl Howe's warships, tarrying for a while in thequiet harbor before they sailed up the river to shake old Philadelphiatown with the thunders of their guns at Red Bank and Fort Mifflin.

With these substantial and sober threads of real history, other and morelurid colors are interwoven into the web of local lore—legends of thedark doings of famous pirates, of their mysterious, sinister comings andgoings, of treasures buried in the sand dunes and pine barrens back ofthe cape and along the Atlantic beach to the southward.

Of such is the story of Blueskin, the pirate.

II

It was in the fall and the early winter of the year 1750, and againin the summer of the year following, that the famous pirate, Blueskin,became especially identified with Lewes as a part of its traditionalhistory.

For some time—for three or four years—rumors and reports of Blueskin'sdoings in the West Indies and off the Carolinas had been brought in nowand then by sea captains. There was no more cruel, bloody, desperate,devilish pirate than he in all those pirate-infested waters. All kindsof wild and bloody stories were current concerning him, but it neveroccurred to the good folk of Lewes that such stories were some time tobe a part of their own history.

But one day a schooner came drifting into Lewes harbor—shattered,wounded, her forecastle splintered, her foremast shot half away, andthree great tattered holes in her mainsail. The mate with one of thecrew came ashore in the boat for help and a doctor. He reported that thecaptain and the cook were dead and there were three wounded men aboard.The story he told to the gathering crowd brought a very peculiar thrillto those who heard it. They had fallen in with Blueskin, he said, offFenwick's Island (some twenty or thirty miles below the capes), andthe pirates had come aboard of them; but, finding that the cargo of theschooner consisted only of cypress shingles and lumber, had soon quittedtheir prize. Perhaps Blueskin was disappointed at not finding a morevaluable capture; perhaps the spirit of deviltry was hotter in him thatmorning than usual; anyhow, as the pirate craft bore away she firedthree broadsides at short range into the helpless coaster. The captainhad been killed at the first fire, the cook had died on the way up,three of the crew were wounded, and the vessel was leaking fast, betwixtwind and water.

Such was the mate's story. It spread like wildfire, and in half an hourall the town was in a ferment. Fenwick's Island was very near home;Blueskin might come sailing into the harbor at any minute and then—! Inan hour Sheriff Jones had called together most of the able-bodied menof the town, muskets and rifles were taken down from the chimney places,and every preparation was made to defend the place against the pirates,should they come into the harbor and attempt to land.

But Blueskin did not come that day, nor did he come the next or thenext. But on the afternoon of the third the news went suddenly flyingover the town that the pirates were inside the capes. As the reportspread the people came running—men, women, and children—to the greenbefore the tavern, where a little knot of old seamen were gatheredtogether, looking fixedly out toward the offing, talking in low voices.Two vessels, one bark-rigged, the other and smaller a sloop, were slowlycreeping up the bay, a couple of miles or so away and just inside thecape. There appeared nothing remarkable about the two crafts, but thelittle crowd that continued gathering upon the green stood lookingout across the bay at them none the less anxiously for that. They weresailing close-hauled to the wind, the sloop following in the wake of herconsort as the pilot fish follows in the wake of the shark.

But the course they held did not lie toward the harbor, but rather boreaway toward the Jersey shore, and by and by it began to be apparent thatBlueskin did not intend visiting the town. Nevertheless, those who stoodlooking did not draw a free breath until, after watching the two piratesfor more than an hour and a half, they saw them—then about six milesaway—suddenly put about and sail with a free wind out to sea again.

"The bloody villains have gone!" said old Captain Wolfe, shutting histelescope with a click.

But Lewes was not yet quit of Blueskin. Two days later a half-breed fromIndian River bay came up, bringing the news that the pirates had sailedinto the inlet—some fifteen miles below Lewes—and had careened thebark to clean her.

Perhaps Blueskin did not care to stir up the country people against him,for the half-breed reported that the pirates were doing no harm, andthat what they took from the farmers of Indian River and Rehoboth theypaid for with good hard money.

It was while the excitement over the pirates was at its highest feverheat that Levi West came home again.

III

Even in the middle of the last century the grist mill, a couple of milesfrom Lewes, although it was at most but fifty or sixty years old, hadall a look of weather-beaten age, for the cypress shingles, of which itwas built, ripen in a few years of wind and weather to a silvery, hoarygray, and the white powdering of flour lent it a look as though thedust of ages had settled upon it, making the shadows within dim, soft,mysterious. A dozen willow trees shaded with dappling, shivering ripplesof shadow the road before the mill door, and the mill itself, and thelong, narrow, shingle-built, one-storied, hip-roofed dwelling house.At the time of the story the mill had descended in a direct line ofsuccession to Hiram White, the grandson of old Ephraim White, who hadbuilt it, it was said, in 1701.

Hiram White was only twenty-seven years old, but he was already in localrepute as a "character." As a boy he was thought to be half-witted or"natural," and, as is the case with such unfortunates in small countrytowns where everybody knows everybody, he was made a common sport andjest for the keener, crueler wits of the neighborhood. Now that he wasgrown to the ripeness of manhood he was still looked upon as being—touse a quaint expression—"slack," or "not jest right." He was heavy,awkward, ungainly and loose-jointed, and enormously, prodigiouslystrong. He had a lumpish, thick-featured face, with lips heavy andloosely hanging, that gave him an air of stupidity, half droll, halfpathetic. His little eyes were set far apart and flat with his face, hiseyebrows were nearly white and his hair was of a sandy, colorlesskind. He was singularly taciturn, lisping thickly when he did talk,and stuttering and hesitating in his speech, as though his words movedfaster than his mind could follow. It was the custom for local wags tourge, or badger, or tempt him to talk, for the sake of the ready laughthat always followed the few thick, stammering words and the stupiddrooping of the jaw at the end of each short speech. Perhaps SquireHall was the only one in Lewes Hundred who misdoubted that Hiram washalf-witted. He had had dealings with him and was wont to say thatwhoever bought Hiram White for a fool made a fool's bargain. Certainly,whether he had common wits or no, Hiram had managed his mill to prettygood purpose and was fairly well off in the world as prosperity went insouthern Delaware and in those days. No doubt, had it come to the pinch,he might have bought some of his tormentors out three times over.

Hiram White had suffered quite a financial loss some six months before,through that very Blueskin who was now lurking in Indian River inlet.He had entered into a "venture" with Josiah Shippin, a Philadelphiamerchant, to the tune of seven hundred pounds sterling. The money hadbeen invested in a cargo of flour and corn meal which had been shippedto Jamaica by the bark Nancy Lee. The Nancy Lee had been captured by thepirates off Currituck Sound, the crew set adrift in the longboat, andthe bark herself and all her cargo burned to the water's edge.

Five hundred of the seven hundred pounds invested in the unfortunate"venture" was money bequeathed by Hiram's father, seven years before, toLevi West.

Eleazer White had been twice married, the second time to the widow West.She had brought with her to her new home a good-looking, long-legged,black-eyed, black-haired ne'er-do-well of a son, a year or so youngerthan Hiram. He was a shrewd, quick-witted lad, idle, shiftless, willful,ill-trained perhaps, but as bright and keen as a pin. He was the veryopposite to poor, dull Hiram. Eleazer White had never loved his son; hewas ashamed of the poor, slack-witted oaf. Upon the other hand, he wasvery fond of Levi West, whom he always called "our Levi," and whom hetreated in every way as though he were his own son. He tried to trainthe lad to work in the mill, and was patient beyond what the patienceof most fathers would have been with his stepson's idleness andshiftlessness. "Never mind," he was used to say. "Levi'll come allright. Levi's as bright as a button."

It was one of the greatest blows of the old miller's life when Levi ranaway to sea. In his last sickness the old man's mind constantly turnedto his lost stepson. "Mebby he'll come back again," said he, "and if hedoes I want you to be good to him, Hiram. I've done my duty by you andhave left you the house and mill, but I want you to promise that if Levicomes back again you'll give him a home and a shelter under this roof ifhe wants one." And Hiram had promised to do as his father asked.

After Eleazer died it was found that he had bequeathed five hundredpounds to his "beloved stepson, Levi West," and had left Squire Hall astrustee.

Levi West had been gone nearly nine years and not a word had been heardfrom him; there could be little or no doubt that he was dead.

One day Hiram came into Squire Hall's office with a letter in his hand.It was the time of the old French war, and flour and corn meal werefetching fabulous prices in the British West Indies. The letter Hirambrought with him was from a Philadelphia merchant, Josiah Shippin, withwhom he had had some dealings. Mr. Shippin proposed that Hiram shouldjoin him in sending a "venture" of flour and corn meal to Kingston,Jamaica. Hiram had slept upon the letter overnight and now he broughtit to the old Squire. Squire Hall read the letter, shaking his head thewhile. "Too much risk, Hiram!" said he. "Mr Shippin wouldn't have askedyou to go into this venture if he could have got anybody else to doso. My advice is that you let it alone. I reckon you've come to mefor advice?" Hiram shook his head. "Ye haven't? What have ye come for,then?"

"Seven hundred pounds," said Hiram.

"Seven hundred pounds!" said Squire Hall. "I haven't got seven hundredpounds to lend you, Hiram."

"Five hundred been left to Levi—I got hundred—raise hundred more onmortgage," said Hiram.

"Tut, tut, Hiram," said Squire Hall, "that'll never do in the world.Suppose Levi West should come back again, what then? I'm responsible forthat money. If you wanted to borrow it now for any reasonable venture,you should have it and welcome, but for such a wildcat scheme—"

"Levi never come back," said Hiram—"nine years gone Levi's dead."

"Mebby he is," said Squire Hall, "but we don't know that."

"I'll give bond for security," said Hiram.

Squire Hall thought for a while in silence. "Very well, Hiram," said heby and by, "if you'll do that. Your father left the money, and I don'tsee that it's right for me to stay his son from using it. But if it islost, Hiram, and if Levi should come back, it will go well to ruin ye."

So Hiram White invested seven hundred pounds in the Jamaica venture andevery farthing of it was burned by Blueskin, off Currituck Sound.

IV

Sally Martin was said to be the prettiest girl in Lewes Hundred, andwhen the rumor began to leak out that Hiram White was courting her thewhole community took it as a monstrous joke. It was the common thing togreet Hiram himself with, "Hey, Hiram; how's Sally?" Hiram never madeanswer to such salutation, but went his way as heavily, as impassively,as dully as ever.

The joke was true. Twice a week, rain or shine, Hiram White neverfailed to scrape his feet upon Billy Martin's doorstep. Twice a week, onSundays and Thursdays, he never failed to take his customary seat by thekitchen fire. He rarely said anything by way of talk; he nodded to thefarmer, to his wife, to Sally and, when he chanced to be at home, to herbrother, but he ventured nothing further. There he would sit from halfpast seven until nine o'clock, stolid, heavy, impassive, his dull eyesfollowing now one of the family and now another, but always coming backagain to Sally. It sometimes happened that she had other company—someof the young men of the neighborhood. The presence of such seemed tomake no difference to Hiram; he bore whatever broad jokes might becracked upon him, whatever grins, whatever giggling might follow thosejokes, with the same patient impassiveness. There he would sit, silent,unresponsive; then, at the first stroke of nine o'clock, he would rise,shoulder his ungainly person into his overcoat, twist his head intohis three-cornered hat, and with a "Good night, Sally, I be going now,"would take his departure, shutting the door carefully to behind him.

Never, perhaps, was there a girl in the world had such a lover and sucha courtship as Sally Martin.

V

It was one Thursday evening in the latter part of November, about a weekafter Blueskin's appearance off the capes, and while the one subject oftalk was of the pirates being in Indian River inlet. The air was stilland wintry; a sudden cold snap had set in and skims of ice had formedover puddles in the road; the smoke from the chimneys rose straight inthe quiet air and voices sounded loud, as they do in frosty weather.

Hiram White sat by the dim light of a tallow dip, poring laboriouslyover some account books. It was not quite seven o'clock, and he neverstarted for Billy Martin's before that hour. As he ran his finger slowlyand hesitatingly down the column of figures, he heard the kitchen doorbeyond open and shut, the noise of footsteps crossing the floor and thescraping of a chair dragged forward to the hearth. Then came the soundof a basket of corncobs being emptied on the smoldering blaze and thenthe snapping and crackling of the reanimated fire. Hiram thought nothingof all this, excepting, in a dim sort of way, that it was Bob, the negromill hand, or old black Dinah, the housekeeper, and so went on with hiscalculations.

At last he closed the books with a snap and, smoothing down his hair,arose, took up the candle, and passed out of the room into the kitchenbeyond.

A man was sitting in front of the corncob fire that flamed and blazed inthe great, gaping, sooty fireplace. A rough overcoat was flung over thechair behind him and his hands were spread out to the roaring warmth.At the sound of the lifted latch and of Hiram's entrance he turned hishead, and when Hiram saw his face he stood suddenly still as thoughturned to stone. The face, marvelously altered and changed as it was,was the face of his stepbrother, Levi West. He was not dead; he hadcome home again. For a time not a sound broke the dead, unbroken silenceexcepting the crackling of the blaze in the fireplace and the sharpticking of the tall clock in the corner. The one face, dull and stolid,with the light of the candle shining upward over its lumpy features,looked fixedly, immovably, stonily at the other, sharp, shrewd,cunning—the red wavering light of the blaze shining upon the high cheekbones, cutting sharp on the nose and twinkling in the glassy turn of theblack, ratlike eyes. Then suddenly that face cracked, broadened, spreadto a grin. "I have come back again, Hi," said Levi, and at the sound ofthe words the speechless spell was broken.

Hiram answered never a word, but he walked to the fireplace, set thecandle down upon the dusty mantelshelf among the boxes and bottles, and,drawing forward a chair upon the other side of the hearth, sat down.

His dull little eyes never moved from his stepbrother's face. There wasno curiosity in his expression, no surprise, no wonder. The heavy underlip dropped a little farther open and there was more than usual ofdull, expressionless stupidity upon the lumpish face; but that was all.

As was said, the face upon which he looked was strangely, marvelouslychanged from what it had been when he had last seen it nine yearsbefore, and, though it was still the face of Levi West, it was a verydifferent Levi West than the shiftless ne'er-do-well who had run away tosea in the Brazilian brig that long time ago. That Levi West had beena rough, careless, happy-go-lucky fellow; thoughtless and selfish, butwith nothing essentially evil or sinister in his nature. The Levi Westthat now sat in a rush-bottom chair at the other side of the fireplacehad that stamped upon his front that might be both evil and sinister.His swart complexion was tanned to an Indian copper. On one side of hisface was a curious discoloration in the skin and a long, crooked, cruelscar that ran diagonally across forehead and temple and cheek in awhite, jagged seam. This discoloration was of a livid blue, about thetint of a tattoo mark. It made a patch the size of a man's hand, lyingacross the cheek and the side of the neck. Hiram could not keep his eyesfrom this mark and the white scar cutting across it.

There was an odd sort of incongruity in Levi's dress; a pair of heavygold earrings and a dirty red handkerchief knotted loosely around hisneck, beneath an open collar, displaying to its full length the lean,sinewy throat with its bony "Adam's apple," gave to his costume somewhatthe smack of a sailor. He wore a coat that had once been of fineplum color—now stained and faded—too small for his lean length, andfurbished with tarnished lace. Dirty cambric cuffs hung at his wristsand on his fingers were half a dozen and more rings, set with stonesthat shone, and glistened, and twinkled in the light of the fire. Thehair at either temple was twisted into a Spanish curl, plastered flat tothe cheek, and a plaited queue hung halfway down his back.

Hiram, speaking never a word, sat motionless, his dull little eyestraveling slowly up and down and around and around his stepbrother'sperson.

Levi did not seem to notice his scrutiny, leaning forward, now withhis palms spread out to the grateful warmth, now rubbing them slowlytogether. But at last he suddenly whirled his chair around, raspingon the floor, and faced his stepbrother. He thrust his hand into hiscapacious coat pocket and brought out a pipe which he proceeded to fillfrom a skin of tobacco. "Well, Hi," said he, "d'ye see I've come backhome again?"

"Thought you was dead," said Hiram, dully.

Levi laughed, then he drew a red-hot coal out of the fire, put it uponthe bowl of the pipe and began puffing out clouds of pungent smoke."Nay, nay," said he; "not dead—not dead by odds. But [puff] by theEternal Holy, Hi, I played many a close game [puff] with old Davy Jones,for all that."

Hiram's look turned inquiringly toward the jagged scar and Levi caughtthe slow glance. "You're lookin' at this," said he, running his fingerdown the crooked seam. "That looks bad, but it wasn't so close asthis"—laying his hand for a moment upon the livid stain. "A cooly deviloff Singapore gave me that cut when we fell foul of an opium junk in theChina Sea four years ago last September. This," touching the disfiguringblue patch again, "was a closer miss, Hi. A Spanish captain fired apistol at me down off Santa Catharina. He was so nigh that the powderwent under the skin and it'll never come out again. —— his eyes—hehad better have fired the pistol into his own head that morning. Butnever mind that. I reckon I'm changed, ain't I, Hi?"

He took his pipe out of his mouth and looked inquiringly at Hiram, whonodded.

Levi laughed. "Devil doubt it," said he, "but whether I'm changed or no,I'll take my affidavy that you are the same old half-witted Hi thatyou used to be. I remember dad used to say that you hadn't no more thanenough wits to keep you out of the rain. And, talking of dad, Hi, Ihearn tell he's been dead now these nine years gone. D'ye know what I'vecome home for?"

Hiram shook his head.

"I've come for that five hundred pounds that dad left me when he died,for I hearn tell of that, too."

Hiram sat quite still for a second or two and then he said, "I put thatmoney out to venture and lost it all."

Levi's face fell and he took his pipe out of his mouth, regarding Hiramsharply and keenly. "What d'ye mean?" said he presently.

"I thought you was dead—and I put—seven hundred pounds—into NancyLee—and Blueskin burned her—off Currituck."

"Burned her off Currituck!" repeated Levi. Then suddenly a light seemedto break upon his comprehension. "Burned by Blueskin!" he repeated,and thereupon flung himself back in his chair and burst into a short,boisterous fit of laughter. "Well, by the Holy Eternal, Hi, if thatisn't a piece of your tarnal luck. Burned by Blueskin, was it?" Hepaused for a moment, as though turning it over in his mind. Then helaughed again. "All the same," said he presently, "d'ye see, I can'tsuffer for Blueskin's doings. The money was willed to me, fair and true,and you have got to pay it, Hiram White, burn or sink, Blueskin or noBlueskin." Again he puffed for a moment or two in reflective silence."All the same, Hi," said he, once more resuming the thread of talk, "Idon't reckon to be too hard on you. You be only half-witted, anyway, andI sha'n't be too hard on you. I give you a month to raise that money,and while you're doing it I'll jest hang around here. I've been introuble, Hi, d'ye see. I'm under a cloud and so I want to keep here, asquiet as may be. I'll tell ye how it came about: I had a set-to with aland pirate in Philadelphia, and somebody got hurt. That's the reasonI'm here now, and don't you say anything about it. Do you understand?"

Hiram opened his lips as though it was his intent to answer, then seemedto think better of it and contented himself by nodding his head.

That Thursday night was the first for a six-month that Hiram White didnot scrape his feet clean at Billy Martin's doorstep.

VI

Within a week Levi West had pretty well established himself among hisold friends and acquaintances, though upon a different footing fromthat of nine years before, for this was a very different Levi from thatother. Nevertheless, he was none the less popular in the barroom of thetavern and at the country store, where he was always the center of agroup of loungers. His nine years seemed to have been crowded full ofthe wildest of wild adventures and happenings, as well by land as bysea, and, given an appreciative audience, he would reel off his yarns bythe hour, in a reckless, devil-may-care fashion that set agape even oldsea dogs who had sailed the western ocean since boyhood. Then he seemedalways to have plenty of money, and he loved to spend it at the taverntap-room, with a lavishness that was at once the wonder and admirationof gossips.

At that time, as was said, Blueskin was the one engrossing topic oftalk, and it added not a little to Levi's prestige when it was foundthat he had actually often seen that bloody, devilish pirate with hisown eyes. A great, heavy, burly fellow, Levi said he was, with a beardas black as a hat—a devil with his sword and pistol afloat, but not soblack as he was painted when ashore. He told of many adventures in whichBlueskin figured and was then always listened to with more than usualgaping interest.

As for Blueskin, the quiet way in which the pirates conducted themselvesat Indian River almost made the Lewes folk forget what he could do whenthe occasion called. They almost ceased to remember that poor shatteredschooner that had crawled with its ghastly dead and groaning woundedinto the harbor a couple of weeks since. But if for a while they forgotwho or what Blueskin was, it was not for long.

One day a bark from Bristol, bound for Cuba and laden with a valuablecargo of cloth stuffs and silks, put into Lewes harbor to take in water.The captain himself came ashore and was at the tavern for two orthree hours. It happened that Levi was there and that the talk wasof Blueskin. The English captain, a grizzled old sea dog, listened toLevi's yarns with not a little contempt. He had, he said, sailed in theChina Sea and the Indian Ocean too long to be afraid of any hog-eatingYankee pirate such as this Blueskin. A junk full of coolies armed withstink-pots was something to speak of, but who ever heard of the likes ofBlueskin falling afoul of anything more than a Spanish canoe or a Yankeecoaster?

Levi grinned. "All the same, my hearty," said he, "if I was you I'dgive Blueskin a wide berth. I hear that he's cleaned the vessel that wascareened awhile ago, and mebby he'll give you a little trouble if youcome too nigh him."

To this the Englishman only answered that Blueskin might be——, andthat the next afternoon, wind and weather permitting, he intended toheave anchor and run out to sea.

Levi laughed again. "I wish I might be here to see what'll happen," saidhe, "but I'm going up the river to-night to see a gal and mebby won't beback again for three or four days."

The next afternoon the English bark set sail as the captain promised,and that night Lewes town was awake until almost morning, gazing at abroad red glare that lighted up the sky away toward the southeast. Twodays afterward a negro oysterman came up from Indian River with newsthat the pirates were lying off the inlet, bringing ashore bales ofgoods from their larger vessel and piling the same upon the beach undertarpaulins. He said that it was known down at Indian River that Blueskinhad fallen afoul of an English bark, had burned her and had murdered thecaptain and all but three of the crew, who had joined with the pirates.

The excitement over this terrible happening had only begun to subsidewhen another occurred to cap it. One afternoon a ship's boat, in whichwere five men and two women, came rowing into Lewes harbor. It was thelongboat of the Charleston packet, bound for New York, and was commandedby the first mate. The packet had been attacked and captured by thepirates about ten leagues south by east of Cape Henlopen. The pirateshad come aboard of them at night and no resistance had been offered.Perhaps it was that circumstance that saved the lives of all, for nomurder or violence had been done. Nevertheless, officers, passengersand crew had been stripped of everything of value and set adrift inthe boats and the ship herself had been burned. The longboat had becomeseparated from the others during the night and had sighted Henlopen alittle after sunrise.

It may be here said that Squire Hall made out a report of these twooccurrences and sent it up to Philadelphia by the mate of the packet.But for some reason it was nearly four weeks before a sloop of war wassent around from New York. In the meanwhile, the pirates had disposedof the booty stored under the tarpaulins on the beach at Indian Riverinlet, shipping some of it away in two small sloops and sending the restby wagons somewhere up the country.

VII

Levi had told the English captain that he was going up-country to visitone of his lady friends. He was gone nearly two weeks. Then once morehe appeared, as suddenly, as unexpectedly, as he had done when he firstreturned to Lewes. Hiram was sitting at supper when the door opened andLevi walked in, hanging up his hat behind the door as unconcernedly asthough he had only been gone an hour. He was in an ugly, lowering humorand sat himself down at the table without uttering a word, resting hischin upon his clenched fist and glowering fixedly at the corn cake whileDinah fetched him a plate and knife and fork.

His coming seemed to have taken away all of Hiram's appetite. He pushedaway his plate and sat staring at his stepbrother, who presently fellto at the bacon and eggs like a famished wolf. Not a word was said untilLevi had ended his meal and filled his pipe. "Look'ee, Hiram," said he,as he stooped over the fire and raked out a hot coal. "Look'ee, Hiram!I've been to Philadelphia, d'ye see, a-settlin' up that trouble I toldyou about when I first come home. D'ye understand? D'ye remember? D'yeget it through your skull?" He looked around over his shoulder, waitingas though for an answer. But getting none, he continued: "I expect twogentlemen here from Philadelphia to-night. They're friends of mine andare coming to talk over the business and ye needn't stay at home, Hi.You can go out somewhere, d'ye understand?" And then he added with agrin, "Ye can go to see Sally."

Hiram pushed back his chair and arose. He leaned with his back againstthe side of the fireplace. "I'll stay at home," said he presently.

"But I don't want you to stay at home, Hi," said Levi. "We'll have totalk business and I want you to go!"

"I'll stay at home," said Hiram again.

Levi's brow grew as black as thunder. He ground his teeth together andfor a moment or two it seemed as though an explosion was coming. But heswallowed his passion with a gulp. "You're a——pig-headed, half-wittedfool," said he. Hiram never so much as moved his eyes. "As for you,"said Levi, whirling round upon Dinah, who was clearing the table, andglowering balefully upon the old negress, "you put them things down andgit out of here. Don't you come nigh this kitchen again till I tellye to. If I catch you pryin' around may I be——, eyes and liver, if Idon't cut your heart out."

In about half an hour Levi's friends came; the first a little, thin,wizened man with a very foreign look. He was dressed in a rusty blacksuit and wore gray yarn stockings and shoes with brass buckles. Theother was also plainly a foreigner. He was dressed in sailor fashion,with petticoat breeches of duck, a heavy pea-jacket, and thick boots,reaching to the knees. He wore a red sash tied around his waist, andonce, as he pushed back his coat, Hiram saw the glitter of a pistolbutt. He was a powerful, thickset man, low-browed and bull-necked, hischeek, and chin, and throat closely covered with a stubble of blue-blackbeard. He wore a red kerchief tied around his head and over it a cockedhat, edged with tarnished gilt braid.

Levi himself opened the door to them. He exchanged a few words outsidewith his visitors, in a foreign language of which Hiram understoodnothing. Neither of the two strangers spoke a word to Hiram: the littleman shot him a sharp look out of the corners of his eyes and the burlyruffian scowled blackly at him, but beyond that neither vouchsafed himany regard.

Levi drew to the shutters, shot the bolt in the outer door, and tilteda chair against the latch of the one that led from the kitchen into theadjoining room. Then the three worthies seated themselves at the tablewhich Dinah had half cleared of the supper china, and were presentlydeeply engrossed over a packet of papers which the big, burly man hadbrought with him in the pocket of his pea-jacket. The confabulation wasconducted throughout in the same foreign language which Levi had usedwhen first speaking to them—a language quite unintelligible to Hiram'sears. Now and then the murmur of talk would rise loud and harsh oversome disputed point; now and then it would sink away to whispers.

Twice the tall clock in the corner whirred and sharply struck thehour, but throughout the whole long consultation Hiram stood silent,motionless as a stock, his eyes fixed almost unwinkingly upon the threeheads grouped close together around the dim, flickering light of thecandle and the papers scattered upon the table.

Suddenly the talk came to an end, the three heads separated and thethree chairs were pushed back, grating harshly. Levi rose, went to thecloset and brought thence a bottle of Hiram's apple brandy, as coollyas though it belonged to himself. He set three tumblers and a crock ofwater upon the table and each helped himself liberally.

As the two visitors departed down the road, Levi stood for a while atthe open door, looking after the dusky figures until they were swallowedin the darkness. Then he turned, came in, shut the door, shuddered, tooka final dose of the apple brandy and went to bed, without, since hisfirst suppressed explosion, having said a single word to Hiram.

Hiram, left alone, stood for a while, silent, motionless as ever, thenhe looked slowly about him, gave a shake of the shoulders as though toarouse himself, and taking the candle, left the room, shutting the doornoiselessly behind him.

VIII

This time of Levi West's unwelcome visitation was indeed a time ofbitter trouble and tribulation to poor Hiram White. Money was of verydifferent value in those days than it is now, and five hundred poundswas in its way a good round lump—in Sussex County it was almost afortune. It was a desperate struggle for Hiram to raise the amount ofhis father's bequest to his stepbrother. Squire Hall, as may have beengathered, had a very warm and friendly feeling for Hiram, believing inhim when all others disbelieved; nevertheless, in the matter of moneythe old man was as hard and as cold as adamant. He would, he said, doall he could to help Hiram, but that five hundred pounds must and shouldbe raised—Hiram must release his security bond. He would loan him, hesaid, three hundred pounds, taking a mortgage upon the mill. He wouldhave lent him four hundred but that there was already a first mortgageof one hundred pounds upon it, and he would not dare to put more thanthree hundred more atop of that.

Hiram had a considerable quantity of wheat which he had bought uponspeculation and which was then lying idle in a Philadelphia storehouse.This he had sold at public sale and at a very great sacrifice; herealized barely one hundred pounds upon it. The financial horizon lookedvery black to him; nevertheless, Levi's five hundred pounds was raised,and paid into Squire Hall's hands, and Squire Hall released Hiram'sbond.

The business was finally closed on one cold, gray afternoon in the earlypart of December. As Hiram tore his bond across and then tore it acrossagain and again, Squire Hall pushed back the papers upon his desk andcocked his feet upon its slanting top. "Hiram," said he, abruptly,"Hiram, do you know that Levi West is forever hanging around BillyMartin's house, after that pretty daughter of his?"

So long a space of silence followed the speech that the Squire began tothink that Hiram might not have heard him. But Hiram had heard. "No,"said he, "I didn't know it."

"Well, he is," said Squire Hall. "It's the talk of the wholeneighborhood. The talk's pretty bad, too. D'ye know that they say thatshe was away from home three days last week, nobody knew where? Thefellow's turned her head with his sailor's yarns and his traveler'slies."

Hiram said not a word, but he sat looking at the other in stolidsilence. "That stepbrother of yours," continued the old Squirepresently, "is a rascal—he is a rascal, Hiram, and I mis-doubt he'ssomething worse. I hear he's been seen in some queer places and withqueer company of late."

He stopped again, and still Hiram said nothing. "And look'ee, Hiram,"the old man resumed, suddenly, "I do hear that you be courtin' the girl,too; is that so?"

"Yes," said Hiram, "I'm courtin' her, too."

"Tut! tut!" said the Squire, "that's a pity, Hiram. I'm afraid yourcakes are dough."

After he had left the Squire's office, Hiram stood for a while in thestreet, bareheaded, his hat in his hand, staring unwinkingly down atthe ground at his feet, with stupidly drooping lips and lackluster eyes.Presently he raised his hand and began slowly smoothing down the sandyshock of hair upon his forehead. At last he aroused himself with ashake, looked dully up and down the street, and then, putting on hishat, turned and walked slowly and heavily away.

The early dusk of the cloudy winter evening was settling fast, forthe sky was leaden and threatening. At the outskirts of the town Hiramstopped again and again stood for a while in brooding thought. Then,finally, he turned slowly, not the way that led homeward, but taking theroad that led between the bare and withered fields and crooked fencestoward Billy Martin's.

It would be hard to say just what it was that led Hiram to seek BillyMartin's house at that time of day—whether it was fate or ill fortune.He could not have chosen a more opportune time to confirm his ownundoing. What he saw was the very worst that his heart feared.

Along the road, at a little distance from the house, was a mock-orangehedge, now bare, naked, leafless. As Hiram drew near he heard footstepsapproaching and low voices. He drew back into the fence corner and therestood, half sheltered by the stark network of twigs. Two figures passedslowly along the gray of the roadway in the gloaming. One was hisstepbrother, the other was Sally Martin. Levi's arm was around her, hewas whispering into her ear, and her head rested upon his shoulder.

Hiram stood as still, as breathless, as cold as ice. They stopped uponthe side of the road just beyond where he stood. Hiram's eyes neverleft them. There for some time they talked together in low voices,their words now and then reaching the ears of that silent, breathlesslistener.

Suddenly there came the clattering of an opening door, and then BettyMartin's voice broke the silence, harshly, shrilly: "Sal!—Sal!—SallyMartin! You, Sally Martin! Come in yere. Where be ye?"

The girl flung her arms around Levi's neck and their lips met in onequick kiss. The next moment she was gone, flying swiftly, silently, downthe road past where Hiram stood, stooping as she ran. Levi stood lookingafter her until she was gone; then he turned and walked away whistling.

His whistling died shrilly into silence in the wintry distance, andthen at last Hiram came stumbling out from the hedge. His face had neverlooked before as it looked then.

IX

Hiram was standing in front of the fire with his hands clasped behindhis back. He had not touched the supper on the table. Levi was eatingwith an appetite. Suddenly he looked over his plate at his stepbrother.

"How about that five hundred pounds, Hiram?" said he. "I gave ye a monthto raise it and the month ain't quite up yet, but I'm goin' to leavethis here place day after to-morrow—by next day at the furd'st—and Iwant the money that's mine."

"I paid it to Squire Hall to-day and he has it fer ye," said Hiram,dully.

Levi laid down his knife and fork with a clatter. "Squire Hall!" saidhe, "what's Squire Hall got to do with it? Squire Hall didn't have theuse of that money. It was you had it and you have got to pay it back tome, and if you don't do it, by G——, I'll have the law on you, sure asyou're born."

"Squire Hall's trustee—I ain't your trustee," said Hiram, in the samedull voice.

"I don't know nothing about trustees," said Levi, "or anything aboutlawyer business, either. What I want to know is, are you going to pay memy money or no?"

"No," said Hiram, "I ain't—Squire Hall'll pay ye; you go to him."

Levi West's face grew purple red. He pushed back, his chair gratingharshly. "You—bloody land pirate!" he said, grinding his teethtogether. "I see through your tricks. You're up to cheating me out ofmy money. You know very well that Squire Hall is down on me, hard andbitter—writin' his——reports to Philadelphia and doing all he can tostir up everybody agin me and to bring the bluejackets down on me. Isee through your tricks as clear as glass, but ye shatn't trick me. I'llhave my money if there's law in the land—ye bloody, unnatural thief ye,who'd go agin our dead father's will!"

Then—if the roof had fallen in upon him, Levi West could not have beenmore amazed—Hiram suddenly strode forward, and, leaning half across thetable with his fists clenched, fairly glared into Levi's eyes. His face,dull, stupid, wooden, was now fairly convulsed with passion. The greatveins stood out upon his temples like knotted whipcords, and whenhe spoke his voice was more a breathless snarl than the voice of aChristian man.

"Ye'll have the law, will ye?" said he. "Ye'll—have the law, will ye?You're afeared to go to law—Levi West—you try th' law—and see how yelike it. Who 're you to call me thief—ye bloody, murderin' villain ye!You're the thief—Levi West—you come here and stole my daddy from me yedid. You make me ruin—myself to pay what oughter to been mine then—yeye steal the gal I was courtin', to boot." He stopped and his lipsrithed for words to say. "I know ye," said he, grinding his teeth. "Iknow ye! And only for what my daddy made me promise I'd a-had you up tothe magistrate's before this."

Then, pointing with quivering finger: "There's the door—you see it! Goout that there door and don't never come into it again—if ye do—orif ye ever come where I can lay eyes on ye again—by th' Holy Holy I'llhale ye up to the Squire's office and tell all I know and all I've seen.Oh, I'll give ye your belly-fill of law if—ye want th' law! Git out ofthe house, I say!"

As Hiram spoke Levi seemed to shrink together. His face changed from itscopper color to a dull, waxy yellow. When the other ended he answerednever a word. But he pushed back his chair, rose, put on his hat and,with a furtive, sidelong look, left the house, without stopping tofinish the supper which he had begun. He never entered Hiram White'sdoor again.

X

Hiram had driven out the evil spirit from his home, but the mischiefthat it had brewed was done and could not be undone. The next day itwas known that Sally Martin had run away from home, and that she had runaway with Levi West. Old Billy Martin had been in town in the morningwith his rifle, hunting for Levi and threatening if he caught him tohave his life for leading his daughter astray.

And, as the evil spirit had left Hiram's house, so had another and agreater evil spirit quitted its harborage. It was heard from IndianRiver in a few days more that Blueskin had quitted the inlet and hadsailed away to the southeast; and it was reported, by those who seemedto know, that he had finally quitted those parts.

It was well for himself that Blueskin left when he did, for not threedays after he sailed away the Scorpion sloop-of-war dropped anchorin Lewes harbor. The New York agent of the unfortunate packet and agovernment commissioner had also come aboard the Scorpion.

Without loss of time, the officer in command instituted a keen andsearching examination that brought to light some singularly curiousfacts. It was found that a very friendly understanding must have existedfor some time between the pirates and the people of Indian River, for,in the houses throughout that section, many things—some of considerablevalue—that had been taken by the pirates from the packet, werediscovered and seized by the commissioner. Valuables of a suspiciousnature had found their way even into the houses of Lewes itself.

The whole neighborhood seemed to have become more or less tainted by thepresence of the pirates.

Even poor Hiram White did not escape the suspicions of having haddealings with them. Of course the examiners were not slow in discoveringthat Levi West had been deeply concerned with Blueskin's doings.

Old Dinah and black Bob were examined, and not only did the story ofLevi's two visitors come to light, but also the fact that Hiram waspresent and with them while they were in the house disposing of thecaptured goods to their agent.

Of all that he had endured, nothing seemed to cut poor Hiram so deeplyand keenly as these unjust suspicions. They seemed to bring the lastbitter pang, hardest of all to bear.

Levi had taken from him his father's love; he had driven him, if not toruin, at least perilously close to it. He had run away with the girl heloved, and now, through him, even Hiram's good name was gone.

Neither did the suspicions against him remain passive; they becameactive.

Goldsmiths' bills, to the amount of several thousand pounds, had beentaken in the packet and Hiram was examined with an almost inquisitorialcloseness and strictness as to whether he had or had not knowledge oftheir whereabouts.

Under his accumulated misfortunes, he grew not only more dull, moretaciturn, than ever, but gloomy, moody, brooding as well. For hours hewould sit staring straight before him into the fire, without moving somuch as a hair.

One night—it was a bitterly cold night in February, with three inchesof dry and gritty snow upon the ground—while Hiram sat thus brooding,there came, of a sudden, a soft tap upon the door.

Low and hesitating as it was, Hiram started violently at the sound. Hesat for a while, looking from right to left. Then suddenly pushing backhis chair, he arose, strode to the door, and flung it wide open.

It was Sally Martin.

Hiram stood for a while staring blankly at her. It was she who firstspoke. "Won't you let me come in, Hi?" said she. "I'm nigh starved withthe cold and I'm fit to die, I'm so hungry. For God's sake, let me comein."

"Yes," said Hiram, "I'll let you come in, but why don't you go home?"

The poor girl was shivering and chattering with the cold; now she begancrying, wiping her eyes with the corner of a blanket in which her headand shoulders were wrapped. "I have been home, Hiram," she said, "butdad, he shut the door in my face. He cursed me just awful, Hi—I wish Iwas dead!"

"You better come in," said Hiram. "It's no good standing out there inthe cold." He stood aside and the girl entered, swiftly, gratefully.

At Hiram's bidding black Dinah presently set some food before Sally andshe fell to eating ravenously, almost ferociously. Meantime, while sheate, Hiram stood with his back to the fire, looking at her face thatface once so round and rosy, now thin, pinched, haggard.

"Are you sick, Sally?" said he presently.

"No," said she, "but I've had pretty hard times since I left home, Hi."The tears sprang to her eyes at the recollection of her troubles, butshe only wiped them hastily away with the back of her hand, withoutstopping in her eating.

A long pause of dead silence followed. Dinah sat crouched together on acricket at the other side of the hearth, listening with interest. Hiramdid not seem to see her. "Did you go off with Levi?" said he at last,speaking abruptly. The girl looked up furtively under her brows. "Youneedn't be afeared to tell," he added.

"Yes," said she at last, "I did go off with him, Hi."

"Where've you been?"

At the question, she suddenly laid down her knife and fork.

"Don't you ask me that, Hi," said she, agitatedly, "I can't tell youthat. You don't know Levi, Hiram; I darsn't tell you anything he don'twant me to. If I told you where I been he'd hunt me out, no matter whereI was, and kill me. If you only knew what I know about him, Hiram, youwouldn't ask anything about him."

Hiram stood looking broodingly at her for a long time; then at last heagain spoke. "I thought a sight of you onc't, Sally," said he.

Sally did not answer immediately, but, after a while, she suddenlylooked up. "Hiram," said she, "if I tell ye something will you promiseon your oath not to breathe a word to any living soul?" Hiram nodded."Then I'll tell you, but if Levi finds I've told he'll murder me assure as you're standin' there. Come nigher—I've got to whisper it." Heleaned forward close to her where she sat. She looked swiftly from rightto left; then raising her lips she breathed into his ear: "I'm an honestwoman, Hi. I was married to Levi West before I run away."

XI

The winter had passed, spring had passed, and summer had come. WhateverHiram had felt, he had made no sign of suffering. Nevertheless,his lumpy face had begun to look flabby, his cheeks hollow, and hisloose-jointed body shrunk more awkwardly together into its clothes. Hewas often awake at night, sometimes walking up and down his room untilfar into the small hours.

It was through such a wakeful spell as this that he entered into thegreatest, the most terrible, happening of his life.

It was a sulphurously hot night in July. The air was like the breath ofa furnace, and it was a hard matter to sleep with even the easiestmind and under the most favorable circumstances. The full moon shone inthrough the open window, laying a white square of light upon the floor,and Hiram, as he paced up and down, up and down, walked directly throughit, his gaunt figure starting out at every turn into sudden brightnessas he entered the straight line of misty light.

The clock in the kitchen whirred and rang out the hour of twelve, andHiram stopped in his walk to count the strokes.

The last vibration died away into silence, and still he stoodmotionless, now listening with a new and sudden intentness, for, even asthe clock rang the last stroke, he heard soft, heavy footsteps, movingslowly and cautiously along the pathway before the house and directlybelow the open window. A few seconds more and he heard the creaking ofrusty hinges. The mysterious visitor had entered the mill. Hiram creptsoftly to the window and looked out. The moon shone full on the dusty,shingled face of the old mill, not thirty steps away, and he saw thatthe door was standing wide open. A second or two of stillness followed,and then, as he still stood looking intently, he saw the figure of a mansuddenly appear, sharp and vivid, from the gaping blackness of the opendoorway. Hiram could see his face as clear as day. It was Levi West, andhe carried an empty meal bag over his arm.

Levi West stood looking from right to left for a second or two, and thenhe took off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Thenhe softly closed the door behind him and left the mill as he had come,and with the same cautious step. Hiram looked down upon him as he passedclose to the house and almost directly beneath. He could have touchedhim with his hand.

Fifty or sixty yards from the house Levi stopped and a second figurearose from the black shadow in the angle of the worm fence and joinedhim. They stood for a while talking together, Levi pointing now and thentoward the mill. Then the two turned, and, climbing over the fence,cut across an open field and through the tall, shaggy grass toward thesoutheast.

Hiram straightened himself and drew a deep breath, and the moon, shiningfull upon his face, snowed it twisted, convulsed, as it had been whenhe had fronted his stepbrother seven months before in the kitchen. Greatbeads of sweat stood on his brow and he wiped them away with his sleeve.Then, coatless, hatless as he was, he swung himself out of the window,dropped upon the grass, and, without an instant of hesitation, strodeoff down the road in the direction that Levi West had taken.

As he climbed the fence where the two men had climbed it he could seethem in the pallid light, far away across the level, scrubby meadowland, walking toward a narrow strip of pine woods.

A little later they entered the sharp-cut shadows beneath the trees andwere swallowed in the darkness.

With fixed eyes and close-shut lips, as doggedly, as inexorably asthough he were a Nemesis hunting his enemy down, Hiram followed theirfootsteps across the stretch of moonlit open. Then, by and by, he alsowas in the shadow of the pines. Here, not a sound broke the midnighthush. His feet made no noise upon the resinous softness of the groundbelow. In that dead, pulseless silence he could distinctly hear thedistant voices of Levi and his companion, sounding loud and resonant inthe hollow of the woods. Beyond the woods was a cornfield, and presentlyhe heard the rattling of the harsh leaves as the two plunged into thetasseled jungle. Here, as in the woods, he followed them, step by step,guided by the noise of their progress through the canes.

Beyond the cornfield ran a road that, skirting to the south of Lewes,led across a wooden bridge to the wide salt marshes that stretchedbetween the town and the distant sand hills. Coming out upon this roadHiram found that he had gained upon those he followed, and that theynow were not fifty paces away, and he could see that Levi's companioncarried over his shoulder what looked like a bundle of tools.

He waited for a little while to let them gain their distance and for thesecond time wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve; then, without everonce letting his eyes leave them, he climbed the fence to the roadway.

For a couple of miles or more he followed the two along the white, levelhighway, past silent, sleeping houses, past barns, sheds, and haystacks,looming big in the moonlight, past fields, and woods, and clearings,past the dark and silent skirts of the town, and so, at last, out uponthe wide, misty salt marshes, which seemed to stretch away interminablythrough the pallid light, yet were bounded in the far distance by thelong, white line of sand hills.

Across the level salt marshes he followed them, through the rank sedgeand past the glassy pools in which his own inverted image stalkedbeneath as he stalked above; on and on, until at last they had reacheda belt of scrub pines, gnarled and gray, that fringed the foot of thewhite sand hills.

Here Hiram kept within the black network of shadow. The two whom hefollowed walked more in the open, with their shadows, as black as ink,walking along in the sand beside them, and now, in the dead, breathlessstillness, might be heard, dull and heavy, the distant thumping,pounding roar of the Atlantic surf, beating on the beach at the otherside of the sand hills, half a mile away.

At last the two rounded the southern end of the white bluff, and whenHiram, following, rounded it also, they were no longer to be seen.

Before him the sand hill rose, smooth and steep, cutting in a sharpridge against the sky. Up this steep hill trailed the footsteps of thosehe followed, disappearing over the crest. Beyond the ridge lay a round,bowl-like hollow, perhaps fifty feet across and eighteen or twenty feetdeep, scooped out by the eddying of the winds into an almost perfectcircle. Hiram, slowly, cautiously, stealthily, following their trailingline of footmarks, mounted to the top of the hillock and peered downinto the bowl beneath. The two men were sitting upon the sand, not farfrom the tall, skeleton-like shaft of a dead pine tree that rose, starkand gray, from the sand in which it may once have been buried, centuriesago.

XII

Levi had taken off his coat and waistcoat and was fanning himself withhis hat. He was sitting upon the bag he had brought from the mill andwhich he had spread out upon the sand. His companion sat facing him. Themoon shone full upon him and Hiram knew him instantly—he was the sameburly, foreign-looking ruffian who had come with the little man to themill that night to see Levi. He also had his hat off and was wiping hisforehead and face with a red handkerchief. Beside him lay the bundle oftools he had brought—a couple of shovels, a piece of rope, and a long,sharp iron rod.

The two men were talking together, but Hiram could not understand whatthey said, for they spoke in the same foreign language that they hadbefore used. But he could see his stepbrother point with his finger, nowto the dead tree and now to the steep, white face of the opposite sideof the bowl-like hollow.

At last, having apparently rested themselves, the conference, ifconference it was, came to an end, and Levi led the way, the otherfollowing, to the dead pine tree. Here he stopped and began searching,as though for some mark; then, having found that which he looked for,he drew a tapeline and a large brass pocket compass from his pocket. Hegave one end of the tape line to his companion, holding the otherwith his thumb pressed upon a particular part of the tree. Taking hisbearings by the compass, he gave now and then some orders to the other,who moved a little to the left or the right as he bade. At last he gavea word of command, and, thereupon, his companion drew a wooden peg fromhis pocket and thrust it into the sand. From this peg as a base theyagain measured, taking bearings by the compass, and again drove a peg.For a third time they repeated their measurements and then, at last,seemed to have reached the point which they aimed for.

Here Levi marked a cross with his heel upon the sand.

His companion brought him the pointed iron rod which lay beside theshovels, and then stood watching as Levi thrust it deep into the sand,again and again, as though sounding for some object below. It was somewhile before he found that for which he was seeking, but at last therod struck with a jar upon some hard object below. After making sureof success by one or two additional taps with the rod, Levi left itremaining where it stood, brushing the sand from his hands. "Now fetchthe shovels, Pedro," said he, speaking for the first time in English.

The two men were busy for a long while, shoveling away the sand. Theobject for which they were seeking lay buried some six feet deep, andthe work was heavy and laborious, the shifting sand sliding back, againand again, into the hole. But at last the blade of one of the shovelsstruck upon some hard substance and Levi stooped and brushed away thesand with the palm of his hand.

Levi's companion climbed out of the hole which they had dug and tossedthe rope which he had brought with the shovels down to the other. Levimade it fast to some object below and then himself mounted to the levelof the sand above. Pulling together, the two drew up from the hole aheavy iron-bound box, nearly three feet long and a foot wide and deep.

Levi's companion stooped and began untying the rope which had beenlashed to a ring in the lid.

What next happened happened suddenly, swiftly, terribly. Levi drew backa single step, and shot one quick, keen look to right and to left. Hepassed his hand rapidly behind his back, and the next moment Hiram sawthe moonlight gleam upon the long, sharp, keen blade of a knife. Leviraised his arm. Then, just as the other arose from bending over thechest, he struck, and struck again, two swift, powerful blows. Hiramsaw the blade drive, clean and sharp, into the back, and heard thehilt strike with a dull thud against the ribs—once, twice. The burly,black-bearded wretch gave a shrill, terrible cry and fell staggeringback. Then, in an instant, with another cry, he was up and clutched Leviwith a clutch of despair by the throat and by the arm. Then followed astruggle, short, terrible, silent. Not a sound was heard but the deep,panting breath and the scuffling of feet in the sand, upon which therenow poured and dabbled a dark-purple stream. But it was a one-sidedstruggle and lasted only for a second or two. Levi wrenched his armloose from the wounded man's grasp, tearing his shirt sleeve from thewrist to the shoulder as he did so. Again and again the cruel knife waslifted, and again and again it fell, now no longer bright, but stainedwith red.

Then, suddenly, all was over. Levi's companion dropped to the sandwithout a sound, like a bundle of rags. For a moment he lay limp andinert; then one shuddering spasm passed over him and he lay silent andstill, with his face half buried in the sand.

Levi, with the knife still gripped tight in his hand, stood leaning overhis victim, looking down upon his body. His shirt and hand, and evenhis naked arm, were stained and blotched with blood. The moon lit up hisface and it was the face of a devil from hell.

At last he gave himself a shake, stooped and wiped his knife and handand arm upon the loose petticoat breeches of the dead man. He thrust hisknife back into its sheath, drew a key from his pocket and unlocked thechest. In the moonlight Hiram could see that it was filled mostly withpaper and leather bags, full, apparently of money.

All through this awful struggle and its awful ending Hiram lay, dumband motionless, upon the crest of the sand hill, looking with a horridfascination upon the death struggle in the pit below. Now Hiram arose.The sand slid whispering down from the crest as he did so, but Leviwas too intent in turning over the contents of the chest to notice theslight sound.

Hiram's face was ghastly pale and drawn. For one moment he opened hislips as though to speak, but no word came. So, white, silent, hestood for a few seconds, rather like a statue than a living man, then,suddenly, his eyes fell upon the bag, which Levi had brought with him,no doubt, to carry back the treasure for which he and his companion werein search, and which still lay spread out on the sand where it had beenflung. Then, as though a thought had suddenly flashed upon him, hiswhole expression changed, his lips closed tightly together as thoughfearing an involuntary sound might escape, and the haggard lookdissolved from his face.

Cautiously, slowly, he stepped over the edge of the sand hill and downthe slanting face. His coming was as silent as death, for his feet madeno noise as he sank ankle-deep in the yielding surface. So, stealthily,step by step, he descended, reached the bag, lifted it silently. Levi,still bending over the chest and searching through the papers within,was not four feet away. Hiram raised the bag in his hands. He must havemade some slight rustle as he did so, for suddenly Levi half turned hishead. But he was one instant too late. In a flash the bag was over hishead—shoulders—arms—body.

Then came another struggle, as fierce, as silent, as desperate as thatother—and as short. Wiry, tough, and strong as he was, with a lean,sinewy, nervous vigor, fighting desperately for his life as he was, Levihad no chance against the ponderous strength of his stepbrother. In anycase, the struggle could not have lasted long; as it was, Levi stumbledbackward over the body of his dead mate and fell, with Hiram upon him.Maybe he was stunned by the fall; maybe he felt the hopelessness ofresistance, for he lay quite still while Hiram, kneeling upon him, drewthe rope from the ring of the chest and, without uttering a word, boundit tightly around both the bag and the captive within, knotting it againand again and drawing it tight. Only once was a word spoken. "If you'lllemme go," said a muffled voice from the bag, "I'll give you fivethousand pounds—it's in that there box." Hiram answered never a word,but continued knotting the rope and drawing it tight.

XIII

The Scorpion sloop-of-war lay in Lewes harbor all that winter andspring, probably upon the slim chance of a return of the pirates. It wasabout eight o'clock in the morning and Lieutenant Maynard was sittingin Squire Hall's office, fanning himself with his hat and talking in adesultory fashion. Suddenly the dim and distant noise of a great crowdwas heard from without, coming nearer and nearer. The Squire and hisvisitor hurried to the door. The crowd was coming down the streetshouting, jostling, struggling, some on the footway, some in theroadway. Heads were at the doors and windows, looking down upon them.Nearer they came, and nearer; then at last they could see that thepress surrounded and accompanied one man. It was Hiram White, hatless,coatless, the sweat running down his face in streams, but stolid andsilent as ever. Over his shoulder he carried a bag, tied round and roundwith a rope. It was not until the crowd and the man it surrounded hadcome quite near that the Squire and the lieutenant saw that a pairof legs in gray-yarn stockings hung from the bag. It was a man he wascarrying.

Hiram had lugged his burden five miles that morning without help andwith scarcely a rest on the way.

He came directly toward the Squire's office and, still sun rounded andhustled by the crowd, up the steep steps to the office within. He flunghis burden heavily upon the floor without a word and wiped his streamingforehead.

The Squire stood with his knuckles on his desk, staring first at Hiramand then at the strange burden he had brought. A sudden hush fell uponall, though the voices of those without sounded as loud and turbulent asever. "What is it, Hiram?" said Squire Hall at last.

Then for the first time Hiram spoke, panting thickly. "It's a bloodymurderer," said he, pointing a quivering finger at the motionlessfigure.

"Here, some of you!" called out the Squire. "Come! Untie this man! Whois he?" A dozen willing fingers quickly unknotted the rope and the bagwas slipped from the head and body.

Hair and face and eyebrows and clothes were powdered with meal, but,in spite of all and through all the innocent whiteness, dark spots andblotches and smears of blood showed upon head and arm and shirt. Leviraised himself upon his elbow and looked scowlingly around at theamazed, wonderstruck faces surrounding him.

"Why, it's Levi West!" croaked the Squire, at last finding his voice.

Then, suddenly, Lieutenant Maynard pushed forward, before the otherscrowded around the figure on the floor, and, clutching Levi by the hair,dragged his head backward so as to better see his face. "Levi West!"said he in a loud voice. "Is this the Levi West you've been tellingme of? Look at that scar and the mark on his cheek! THIS IS BLUESKINHIMSELF."

XIV

In the chest which Blueskin had dug up out of the sand were found notonly the goldsmiths' bills taken from the packet, but also manyother valuables belonging to the officers and the passengers of theunfortunate ship.

The New York agents offered Hiram a handsome reward for his effortsin recovering the lost bills, but Hiram declined it, positively andfinally. "All I want," said he, in his usual dull, stolid fashion, "isto have folks know I'm honest." Nevertheless, though he did not acceptwhat the agents of the packet offered, fate took the matter into itsown hands and rewarded him not unsubstantially. Blueskin was taken toEngland in the Scorpion. But he never came to trial. While in Newgatehe hanged himself to the cell window with his own stockings. The newsof his end was brought to Lewes in the early autumn and Squire Halltook immediate measures to have the five hundred pounds of his father'slegacy duly transferred to Hiram.

In November Hiram married the pirate's widow.

Chapter VII. CAPTAIN SCARFIELD

PREFACE

The author of this narrative cannot recall that, in any history of thefamous pirates, he has ever read a detailed and sufficient accountof the life and death of Capt. John Scarfield. Doubtless some dataconcerning his death and the destruction of his schooner might begathered from the report of Lieutenant Mainwaring, now filed in thearchives of the Navy Department, out beyond such bald and bloodlessnarrative the author knows of nothing, unless it be the little chap-bookhistory published by Isaiah Thomas in Newburyport about the year1821-22, entitled, "A True History of the Life and Death of Captain JackScarfield." This lack of particularity in the history of one so notablein his profession it is the design of the present narrative in a measureto supply, and, if the author has seen fit to cast it in the form of afictional story, it is only that it may make more easy reading for thosewho see fit to follow the tale from this to its conclusion.

I

ELEAZER COOPER, or Captain Cooper, as was his better-known title inPhiladelphia, was a prominent member of the Society of Friends. He wasan overseer of the meeting and an occasional speaker upon particularoccasions. When at home from one of his many voyages he never failed tooccupy his seat in the meeting both on First Day and Fifth Day, and hewas regarded by his fellow townsmen as a model of business integrity andof domestic responsibility.

More incidental to this history, however, it is to be narrated thatCaptain Cooper was one of those trading skippers who carried their ownmerchandise in their own vessels which they sailed themselves, and onwhose decks they did their own bartering. His vessel was a swift, largeschooner, the Eliza Cooper, of Philadelphia, named for his wife. Hiscruising grounds were the West India Islands, and his merchandisewas flour and corn meal ground at the Brandywine Mills at Wilmington,Delaware.

During the War of 1812 he had earned, as was very well known, anextraordinary fortune in this trading; for flour and corn meal sold atfabulous prices in the French, Spanish, Dutch, and Danish islands, cutoff, as they were, from the rest of the world by the British blockade.

The running of this blockade was one of the most hazardous maritimeventures possible, but Captain Cooper had met with such unvariedsuccess, and had sold his merchandise at such incredible profit that,at the end of the war, he found himself to have become one of thewealthiest merchants of his native city.

It was known at one time that his balance in the Mechanics' Bank wasgreater than that of any other individual depositor upon the books, andit was told of him that he had once deposited in the bank a chest offoreign silver coin, the exchanged value of which, when translatedinto American currency, was upward of forty-two thousand dollars—aprodigious sum of money in those days.

In person, Captain Cooper was tall and angular of frame. His face wasthin and severe, wearing continually an unsmiling, mask-like expressionof continent and unruffled sobriety. His manner was dry and taciturn,and his conduct and life were measured to the most absolute accord withthe teachings of his religious belief.

He lived in an old-fashioned house on Front Street below Spruce—aspleasant, cheerful a house as ever a trading captain could return to.At the back of the house a lawn sloped steeply down toward the river. Tothe south stood the wharf and storehouses; to the north an orchard andkitchen garden bloomed with abundant verdure. Two large chestnut treessheltered the porch and the little space of lawn, and when you sat underthem in the shade you looked down the slope between two rows of boxbushes directly across the shining river to the Jersey shore.

At the time of our story—that is, about the year 1820—this propertyhad increased very greatly in value, but it was the old home of theCoopers, as Eleazer Cooper was entirely rich enough to indulge his fancyin such matters. Accordingly, as he chose to live in the samehouse where his father and his grandfather had dwelt before him, heperemptorily, if quietly, refused all offers looking toward the purchaseof the lot of ground—though it was now worth five or six times itsformer value.

As was said, it was a cheerful, pleasant home, impressing you when youentered it with the feeling of spotless and all-pervading cleanliness—acleanliness that greeted you in the shining brass door-knocker; thatentertained you in the sitting room with its stiff, leather-coveredfurniture, the brass-headed tacks whereof sparkled like so manystars—a cleanliness that bade you farewell in the spotless stretch ofsand-sprinkled hallway, the wooden floor of which was worn into knobsaround the nail heads by the countless scourings and scrubbings to whichit had been subjected and which left behind them an all-pervading faint,fragrant odor of soap and warm water.

Eleazer Cooper and his wife were childless, but one inmate made thegreat, silent, shady house bright with life. Lucinda Fairbanks, a nieceof Captain Cooper's by his only sister, was a handsome, sprightly girlof eighteen or twenty, and a great favorite in the Quaker society of thecity.

It remains only to introduce the final and, perhaps, the most importantactor of the narrative Lieut. James Mainwaring. During the past twelvemonths or so he had been a frequent visitor at the Cooper house. Atthis time he was a broad-shouldered, red-cheeked, stalwart fellowof twenty-six or twenty-eight. He was a great social favorite, andpossessed the added romantic interest of having been aboard theConstitution when she fought the Guerriere, and of having, with his ownhands, touched the match that fired the first gun of that great battle.

Mainwaring's mother and Eliza Cooper had always been intimate friends,and the coming and going of the young man during his leave of absencewere looked upon in the house as quite a matter of course. Half a dozentimes a week he would drop in to execute some little commission for theladies, or, if Captain Cooper was at home, to smoke a pipe of tobaccowith him, to sip a dram of his famous old Jamaica rum, or to play arubber of checkers of an evening. It is not likely that either of theolder people was the least aware of the real cause of his visits; stillless did they suspect that any passages of sentiment had passed betweenthe young people.

The truth was that Mainwaring and the young lady were very deeply inlove. It was a love that they were obliged to keep a profound secret,for not only had Eleazer Cooper held the strictest sort of testimonyagainst the late war—a testimony so rigorous as to render it altogetherunlikely that one of so military a profession as Mainwaring practicedcould hope for his consent to a suit for marriage, but Lucinda could nothave married one not a member of the Society of Friends without losingher own birthright membership therein. She herself might not attach muchweight to such a loss of membership in the Society, but her fear of, andher respect for, her uncle led her to walk very closely in her pathof duty in this respect. Accordingly she and Mainwaring met as theycould—clandestinely—and the stolen moments were very sweet. With equalsecrecy Lucinda had, at the request of her lover, sat for a miniatureportrait to Mrs. Gregory, which miniature, set in a gold medallion,Mainwaring, with a mild, sentimental pleasure, wore hung around his neckand beneath his shirt frill next his heart.

In the month of April of the year 1820 Mainwaring received ordersto report at Washington. During the preceding autumn the West Indiapirates, and notably Capt. Jack Scarfield, had been more than usuallyactive, and the loss of the packet Marblehead (which, sailing fromCharleston, South Carolina, was never heard of more) was attributedto them. Two other coasting vessels off the coast of Georgia had beenlooted and burned by Scarfield, and the government had at last arouseditself to the necessity of active measures for repressing these pests ofthe West India waters.

Mainwaring received orders to take command of the Yankee, a swift,light-draught, heavily armed brig of war, and to cruise about the BahamaIslands and to capture and destroy all the pirates' vessels he couldthere discover.

On his way from Washington to New York, where the Yankee was thenwaiting orders, Mainwaring stopped in Philadelphia to bid good-by to hismany friends in that city. He called at the old Cooper house. It wason a Sunday afternoon. The spring was early and the weather extremelypleasant that day, being filled with a warmth almost as of summer. Theapple trees were already in full bloom and filled all the air with theirfragrance. Everywhere there seemed to be the pervading hum of bees, andthe drowsy, tepid sunshine was very delightful.

At that time Eleazer was just home from an unusually successful voyageto Antigua. Mainwaring found the family sitting under one of the stillleafless chestnut trees, Captain Cooper smoking his long clay pipe andlazily perusing a copy of the National Gazette. Eleazer listened witha great deal of interest to what Mainwaring had to say of his proposedcruise. He himself knew a great deal about the pirates, and, singularlyunbending from his normal, stiff taciturnity, he began telling of whathe knew, particularly of Captain Scarfield—in whom he appeared to takean extraordinary interest.

Vastly to Mainwaring's surprise, the old Quaker assumed the positionof a defendant of the pirates, protesting that the wickedness of theaccused was enormously exaggerated. He declared that he knew some of thefreebooters very well and that at the most they were poor, misdirectedwretches who had, by easy gradation, slid into their present evil ways,from having been tempted by the government authorities to enter intoprivateering in the days of the late war. He conceded that CaptainScarfield had done many cruel and wicked deeds, but he averred that hehad also performed many kind and benevolent actions. The world made nonote of these latter, but took care only to condemn the evil that hadbeen done. He acknowledged that it was true that the pirate had allowedhis crew to cast lots for the wife and the daughter of the skipper ofthe Northern Rose, but there were none of his accusers who told how,at the risk of his own life and the lives of all his crew, he had givensuccor to the schooner Halifax, found adrift with all hands down withyellow fever. There was no defender of his actions to tell how he andhis crew of pirates had sailed the pest-stricken vessel almost into therescuing waters of Kingston harbor. Eleazer confessed that he could notdeny that when Scarfield had tied the skipper of the Baltimore Bellenaked to the foremast of his own brig he had permitted his crew ofcutthroats (who were drunk at the time) to throw bottles at the helplesscaptive, who died that night of the wounds he had received. For thishe was doubtless very justly condemned, but who was there to praise himwhen he had, at the risk of his life and in the face of the authorities,carried a cargo of provisions which he himself had purchased at TampaBay to the Island of Bella Vista after the great hurricane of 1818? Inthis notable adventure he had barely escaped, after a two days' chase,the British frigate Ceres, whose captain, had a capture been effected,would instantly have hung the unfortunate man to the yardarm in spite ofthe beneficent mission he was in the act of conducting.

In all this Eleazer had the air of conducting the case for thedefendant. As he talked he became more and more animated and voluble.The light went out in his tobacco pipe, and a hectic spot appearedin either thin and sallow cheek. Mainwaring sat wondering to hear theseverely peaceful Quaker preacher defending so notoriously bloody andcruel a cutthroat pirate as Capt. Jack Scarfield. The warm and innocentsurroundings, the old brick house looking down upon them, the odorof apple blossoms and the hum of bees seemed to make it all the moreincongruous. And still the elderly Quaker skipper talked on and on withhardly an interruption, till the warm sun slanted to the west and theday began to decline.

That evening Mainwaring stayed to tea and when he parted from LucindaFairbanks it was after nightfall, with a clear, round moon shining inthe milky sky and a radiance pallid and unreal enveloping the old house,the blooming apple trees, the sloping lawn and the shining river beyond.He implored his sweetheart to let him tell her uncle and aunt of theiracknowledged love and to ask the old man's consent to it, but she wouldnot permit him to do so. They were so happy as they were. Who knew butwhat her uncle might forbid their fondness? Would he not wait a littlelonger? Maybe it would all come right after a while. She was so fond, sotender, so tearful at the nearness of their parting that he had notthe heart to insist. At the same time it was with a feeling almost ofdespair that he realized that he must now be gone—maybe for the spaceof two years—without in all that time possessing the right to call herhis before the world.

When he bade farewell to the older people it was with a choking feelingof bitter disappointment. He yet felt the pressure of her cheek againsthis shoulder, the touch of soft and velvet lips to his own. But whatwere such clandestine endearments compared to what might, perchance, behis—the right of calling her his own when he was far away and upon thedistant sea? And, besides, he felt like a coward who had shirked hisduty.

But he was very much in love. The next morning appeared in a drizzle ofrain that followed the beautiful warmth of the day before. He had thecoach all to himself, and in the damp and leathery solitude he drew outthe little oval picture from beneath his shirt frill and looked long andfixedly with a fond and foolish joy at the innocent face, the blue eyes,the red, smiling lips depicted upon the satinlike, ivory surface.

II

For the better part of five months Mainwaring cruised about in thewaters surrounding the Bahama Islands. In that time he ran to earth anddispersed a dozen nests of pirates. He destroyed no less than fifteenpiratical crafts of all sizes, from a large half-decked whaleboat to athree-hundred-ton barkentine. The name of the Yankee became a terrorto every sea wolf in the western tropics, and the waters of the BahamaIslands became swept almost clean of the bloody wretches who had solately infested it.

But the one freebooter of all others whom he sought—Capt. JackScarfield—seemed to evade him like a shadow, to slip through hisfingers like magic. Twice he came almost within touch of the famousmarauder, both times in the ominous wrecks that the pirate captain hadleft behind him. The first of these was the water-logged remains of aburned and still smoking wreck that he found adrift in the great Bahamachannel. It was the Water Witch, of Salem, but he did not learn hertragic story until, two weeks later, he discovered a part of her crewat Port Maria, on the north coast of Jamaica. It was, indeed, a dreadfulstory to which he listened. The castaways said that they of all thevessel's crew had been spared so that they might tell the commander ofthe Yankee, should they meet him, that he might keep what he found, withCaptain Scarfield's compliments, who served it up to him hot cooked.

Three weeks later he rescued what remained of the crew of the shattered,bloody hulk of the Baltimore Belle, eight of whose crew, headed by thecaptain, had been tied hand and foot and heaved overboard. Again, therewas a message from Captain Scarfield to the commander of the Yankee thathe might season what he found to suit his own taste.

Mainwaring was of a sanguine disposition, with fiery temper. He swore,with the utmost vehemence, that either he or John Scarfield would haveto leave the earth.

He had little suspicion of how soon was to befall the ominousrealization of his angry prophecy.

At that time one of the chief rendezvous of the pirates was the littleisland of San Jose, one of the southernmost of the Bahama group. Here,in the days before the coming of the Yankee, they were wont to put into careen and clean their vessels and to take in a fresh supply ofprovisions, gunpowder, and rum, preparatory to renewing their attacksupon the peaceful commerce circulating up and down outside the islands,or through the wide stretches of the Bahama channel.

Mainwaring had made several descents upon this nest of freebooters.He had already made two notable captures, and it was here he hopedeventually to capture Captain Scarfield himself.

A brief description of this one-time notorious rendezvous of freebootersmight not be out of place. It consisted of a little settlement of thosewattled and mud-smeared houses such as you find through the West Indies.There were only three houses of a more pretentious sort, built of wood.One of these was a storehouse, another was a rum shop, and a third ahouse in which dwelt a mulatto woman, who was reputed to be a sortof left-handed wife of Captain Scarfield's. The population was almostentirely black and brown. One or two Jews and a half dozen Yankeetraders, of hardly dubious honesty, comprised the entire whitepopulation. The rest consisted of a mongrel accumulation of negroesand mulattoes and half-caste Spaniards, and of a multitude of black oryellow women and children. The settlement stood in a bight of the beachforming a small harbor and affording a fair anchorage for small vessels,excepting it were against the beating of a southeasterly gale. Thehouses, or cabins, were surrounded by clusters of coco palms and growthsof bananas, and a long curve of white beach, sheltered from the largeAtlantic breakers that burst and exploded upon an outer bar, was drawnlike a necklace around the semi-circle of emerald-green water.

Such was the famous pirates' settlement of San Jose—a paradise ofnature and a hell of human depravity and wickedness—and it was to thisspot that Mainwaring paid another visit a few days after rescuing thecrew of the Baltimore Belle from her shattered and sinking wreck.

As the little bay with its fringe of palms and its cluster of wattlehuts opened up to view, Mainwaring discovered a vessel lying at anchorin the little harbor. It was a large and well-rigged schooner of twohundred and fifty or three hundred tons burden. As the Yankee rounded tounder the stern of the stranger and dropped anchor in such a positionas to bring her broadside battery to bear should the occasionrequire, Mainwaring set his glass to his eye to read the name he coulddistinguish beneath the overhang of her stern. It is impossible todescribe his infinite surprise when, the white lettering starting out inthe circle of the glass, he read, The Eliza Cooper, of Philadelphia.

He could not believe the evidence of his senses. Certainly this sink ofiniquity was the last place in the world he would have expected to havefallen in with Eleazer Cooper.

He ordered out the gig and had himself immediately rowed over to theschooner. Whatever lingering doubts he might have entertained as to theidentity of the vessel were quickly dispelled when he beheld CaptainCooper himself standing at the gangway to meet him. The impassive faceof the friend showed neither surprise nor confusion at what must havebeen to him a most unexpected encounter.

But when he stepped upon the deck of the Eliza Cooper and looked abouthim, Mainwaring could hardly believe the evidence of his senses atthe transformation that he beheld. Upon the main deck were eighttwelve-pound carronade neatly covered with tarpaulin; in the bow a LongTom, also snugly stowed away and covered, directed a veiled and muzzledsnout out over the bowsprit.

It was entirely impossible for Mainwaring to conceal his astonishment atso unexpected a sight, and whether or not his own thoughts lent colorto his imagination, it seemed to him that Eleazer Cooper concealed underthe immobility of his countenance no small degree of confusion.

After Captain Cooper had led the way into the cabin and he and theyounger man were seated over a pipe of tobacco and the invariable bottleof fine old Jamaica rum, Mainwaring made no attempt to refrainfrom questioning him as to the reason for this singular and ominoustransformation.

"I am a man of peace, James Mainwaring," Eleazer replied, "but there aremen of blood in these waters, and an appearance of great strength is ofuse to protect the innocent from the wicked. If I remained in appearancethe peaceful trader I really am, how long does thee suppose I couldremain unassailed in this place?"

It occurred to Mainwaring that the powerful armament he had beheld wasrather extreme to be used merely as a preventive. He smoked for a whilein silence and then he suddenly asked the other point-blank whether, ifit came to blows with such a one as Captain Scarfield, would he make afight of it?

The Quaker trading captain regarded him for a while in silence. Hislook, it seemed to Mainwaring, appeared to be dubitative as to how farhe dared to be frank. "Friend James," he said at last, "I may as wellacknowledge that my officers and crew are somewhat worldly. Of a truththey do not hold the same testimony as I. I am inclined to think thatif it came to the point of a broil with those men of iniquity, myindividual voice cast for peace would not be sufficient to keep my crewfrom meeting violence with violence. As for myself, thee knows who I amand what is my testimony in these matters."

Mainwaring made no comment as to the extremely questionable manner inwhich the Quaker proposed to beat the devil about the stump. Presentlyhe asked his second question:

"And might I inquire," he said, "what you are doing here and why youfind it necessary to come at all into such a wicked, dangerous place asthis?"

"Indeed, I knew thee would ask that question of me," said the Friend,"and I will be entirely frank with thee. These men of blood are, afterall, but human beings, and as human beings they need food. I have atpresent upon this vessel upward of two hundred and fifty barrels offlour which will bring a higher price here than anywhere else in theWest Indies. To be entirely frank with thee, I will tell thee that Iwas engaged in making a bargain for the sale of the greater part of mymerchandise when the news of thy approach drove away my best customer."

Mainwaring sat for a while in smoking silence. What the other had toldhim explained many things he had not before understood. It explained whyCaptain Cooper got almost as much for his flour and corn meal now thatpeace had been declared as he had obtained when the war and the blockadewere in full swing. It explained why he had been so strong a defenderof Captain Scarfield and the pirates that afternoon in the garden.Meantime, what was to be done? Eleazer confessed openly that he dealtwith the pirates. What now was his—Mainwaring's—duty in the case? Wasthe cargo of the Eliza Cooper contraband and subject to confiscation?And then another question framed itself in his mind: Who was thiscustomer whom his approach had driven away?

As though he had formulated the inquiry into speech the other begandirectly to speak of it. "I know," he said, "that in a moment thee willask me who was this customer of whom I have just now spoken. I have nodesire to conceal his name from thee. It was the man who is known asCaptain Jack or Captain John Scarfield."

Mainwaring fairly started from his seat. "The devil you say!" he cried."And how long has it been," he asked, "since he left you?"

The Quaker skipper carefully refilled his pipe, which he had by nowsmoked out. "I would judge," he said, "that it is a matter of four orfive hours since news was brought overland by means of swift runnersof thy approach. Immediately the man of wickedness disappeared." HereEleazer set the bowl of his pipe to the candle flame and began puffingout voluminous clouds of smoke. "I would have thee understand, JamesMainwaring," he resumed, "that I am no friend of this wicked and sinfulman. His safety is nothing to me. It is only a question of buying uponhis part and of selling upon mine. If it is any satisfaction to thee Iwill heartily promise to bring thee news if I hear anything of the manof Belial. I may furthermore say that I think it is likely thee willhave news more or less directly of him within the space of a day. Ifthis should happen, however, thee will have to do thy own fightingwithout help from me, for I am no man of combat nor of blood and willtake no hand in it either way."

It struck Mainwaring that the words contained some meaning that did notappear upon the surface. This significance struck him as so ambiguousthat when he went aboard the Yankee he confided as much of hissuspicions as he saw fit to his second in command, Lieutenant Underwood.As night descended he had a double watch set and had everything preparedto repel any attack or surprise that might be attempted.

III

Nighttime in the tropics descends with a surprising rapidity. At onemoment the earth is shining with the brightness of the twilight; thenext, as it were, all things are suddenly swallowed into a gulf ofdarkness. The particular night of which this story treats was notentirely clear; the time of year was about the approach of the rainyseason, and the tepid, tropical clouds added obscurity to the darknessof the sky, so that the night fell with even more startling quicknessthan usual. The blackness was very dense. Now and then a group ofdrifting stars swam out of a rift in the vapors, but the night wascuriously silent and of a velvety darkness.

As the obscurity had deepened, Mainwaring had ordered lanthorns to belighted and slung to the shrouds and to the stays, and the faint yellowof their illumination lighted the level white of the snug little warvessel, gleaming here and there in a starlike spark upon the brasstrimmings and causing the rows of cannons to assume curiously giganticproportions.

For some reason Mainwaring was possessed by a strange, uneasy feeling.He walked restlessly up and down the deck for a time, and then, stillfull of anxieties for he knew not what, went into his cabin to finishwriting up his log for the day. He unstrapped his cutlass and laid itupon the table, lighted his pipe at the lanthorn and was about preparingto lay aside his coat when word was brought to him that the captain ofthe trading schooner was come alongside and had some private informationto communicate to him.

Mainwaring surmised in an instant that the trader's visit relatedsomehow to news of Captain Scarfield, and as immediately, in the reliefof something positive to face, all of his feeling of restlessnessvanished like a shadow of mist. He gave orders that Captain Coopershould be immediately shown into the cabin, and in a few momentsthe tall, angular form of the Quaker skipper appeared in the narrow,lanthorn-lighted space.

Mainwaring at once saw that his visitor was strangely agitated anddisturbed. He had taken off his hat, and shining beads of perspirationhad gathered and stood clustered upon his forehead. He did not reply toMainwaring's greeting; he did not, indeed, seem to hear it; but he camedirectly forward to the table and stood leaning with one hand upon theopen log book in which the lieutenant had just been writing. Mainwaringhad reseated himself at the head of the table, and the tall figure ofthe skipper stood looking down at him as from a considerable height.

"James Mainwaring," he said, "I promised thee to report if I had news ofthe pirate. Is thee ready now to hear my news?"

There was something so strange in his agitation that it began to infectMainwaring with a feeling somewhat akin to that which appeared todisturb his visitor. "I know not what you mean, sir!" he cried, "byasking if I care to hear your news. At this moment I would rather havenews of that scoundrel than to have anything I know of in the world."

"Thou would? Thou would?" cried the other, with mounting agitation. "Isthee in such haste to meet him as all that? Very well; very well, then.Suppose I could bring thee face to face with him—what then? Hey? Hey?Face to face with him, James Mainwaring!"

The thought instantly flashed into Mainwaring's mind that the piratehad returned to the island; that perhaps at that moment he was somewherenear at hand.

"I do not understand you, sir," he cried. "Do you mean to tell me thatyou know where the villain is? If so, lose no time in informing me, forevery instant of delay may mean his chance of again escaping."

"No danger of that!" the other declared, vehemently. "No danger of that!I'll tell thee where he is and I'll bring thee to him quick enough!"And as he spoke he thumped his fist against the open log book. In thevehemence of his growing excitement his eyes appeared to shine greenin the lanthorn light, and the sweat that had stood in beads upon hisforehead was now running in streams down his face. One drop hung likea jewel to the tip of his beaklike nose. He came a step nearer toMainwaring and bent forward toward him, and there was something sostrange and ominous in his bearing that the lieutenant instinctivelydrew back a little where he sat.

"Captain Scarfield sent something to you," said Eleazer, almost in araucous voice, "something that you will be surprised to see." And thelapse in his speech from the Quaker "thee" to the plural "you" struckMainwaring as singularly strange.

As he was speaking Eleazer was fumbling in a pocket of his long-taileddrab coat, and presently he brought something forth that gleamed in thelanthorn light.

The next moment Mainwaring saw leveled directly in his face the roundand hollow nozzle of a pistol.

There was an instant of dead silence and then, "I am the man you seek!"said Eleazer Cooper, in a tense and breathless voice.

The whole thing had happened so instantaneously and unexpectedly thatfor the moment Mainwaring sat like one petrified. Had a thunderboltfallen from the silent sky and burst at his feet he could not have beenmore stunned. He was like one held in the meshes of a horrid nightmare,and he gazed as through a mist of impossibility into the lineamentsof the well-known, sober face now transformed as from within into theaspect of a devil. That face, now ashy white, was distorted into adiabolical grin. The teeth glistened in the lamplight. The brows,twisted into a tense and convulsed frown, were drawn down into blackshadows, through which the eyes burned a baleful green like the eyesof a wild animal driven to bay. Again he spoke in the same breathlessvoice. "I am John Scarfield! Look at me, then, if you want to seea pirate!" Again there was a little time of silence, through whichMainwaring heard his watch ticking loudly from where it hung against thebulkhead. Then once more the other began speaking. "You would chase meout of the West Indies, would you? G——— —you! What are you cometo now? You are caught in your own trap, and you'll squeal loud enoughbefore you get out of it. Speak a word or make a movement and I'll blowyour brains out against the partition behind you! Listen to what I sayor you are a dead man. Sing out an order instantly for my mate and mybos'n to come here to the cabin, and be quick about it, for my finger'son the trigger, and it's only a pull to shut your mouth forever."

It was astonishing to Mainwaring, in afterward thinking about it all,how quickly his mind began to recover its steadiness after that firstastonishing shock. Even as the other was speaking he discovered that hisbrain was becoming clarified to a wonderful lucidity; his thoughts werebecoming rearranged, and with a marvelous activity and an alertnesshe had never before experienced. He knew that if he moved to escape oruttered any outcry he would be instantly a dead man, for the circle ofthe pistol barrel was directed full against his forehead and with thesteadiness of a rock. If he could but for an instant divert that fixedand deadly attention he might still have a chance for life. With thethought an inspiration burst into his mind and he instantly put it intoexecution; thought, inspiration, and action, as in a flash, were one. Hemust make the other turn aside his deadly gaze, and instantly he roaredout in a voice that stunned his own ears: "Strike, bos'n! Strike,quick!"

Taken by surprise, and thinking, doubtless, that another enemy stoodbehind him, the pirate swung around like a flash with his pistol leveledagainst the blank boarding. Equally upon the instant he saw the trickthat had been played upon him and in a second flash had turned again.The turn and return had occupied but a moment of time, but that moment,thanks to the readiness of his own invention, had undoubtedly savedMainwaring's life. As the other turned away his gaze for that briefinstant Mainwaring leaped forward and upon him. There was a flashingflame of fire as the pistol was discharged and a deafening detonationthat seemed to split his brain. For a moment, with reeling senses, hesupposed himself to have been shot, the next he knew he had escaped.With the energy of despair he swung his enemy around and drove him withprodigious violence against the corner of the table. The pirate emitteda grunting cry and then they fell together, Mainwaring upon the top, andthe pistol clattered with them to the floor in their fall. Even ashe fell, Mainwaring roared in a voice of thunder, "All hands repelboarders!" And then again, "All hands repel boarders!"

Whether hurt by the table edge or not, the fallen pirate struggled asthough possessed of forty devils, and in a moment or two Mainwaring sawthe shine of a long, keen knife that he had drawn from somewhere abouthis person. The lieutenant caught him by the wrist, but the other'smuscles were as though made of steel. They both fought in despairingsilence, the one to carry out his frustrated purposes to kill, the otherto save his life. Again and again Mainwaring felt that the knife hadbeen thrust against him, piercing once his arm, once his shoulder, andagain his neck. He felt the warm blood streaming down his arm and bodyand looked about him in despair. The pistol lay near upon the deck ofthe cabin. Still holding the other by the wrist as he could, Mainwaringsnatched up the empty weapon and struck once and again at the bald,narrow forehead beneath him. A third blow he delivered with all theforce he could command, and then with a violent and convulsive throe thestraining muscles beneath him relaxed and grew limp and the fight waswon.

Through all the struggle he had been aware of the shouts of voices, oftrampling of feet and discharge of firearms, and the thought came tohim, even through his own danger, that the Yankee was being assaultedby the pirates. As he felt the struggling form beneath him loosen anddissolve into quietude, he leaped up, and snatching his cutlass, whichstill lay upon the table, rushed out upon the deck, leaving the strickenform lying twitching upon the floor behind him.

It was a fortunate thing that he had set double watches and preparedhimself for some attack from the pirates, otherwise the Yankee wouldcertainly have been lost. As it was, the surprise was so overwhelmingthat the pirates, who had been concealed in the large whaleboat that hadcome alongside, were not only able to gain a foothold upon the deck,but for a time it seemed as though they would drive the crew of the brigbelow the hatches.

But as Mainwaring, streaming with blood, rushed out upon the deck, thepirates became immediately aware that their own captain must havebeen overpowered, and in an instant their desperate energy began toevaporate. One or two jumped overboard; one, who seemed to be the mate,fell dead from a pistol shot, and then, in the turn of a hand, there wasa rush of a retreat and a vision of leaping forms in the dusky light ofthe lanthorns and a sound of splashing in the water below.

The crew of the Yankee continued firing at the phosphorescent wakes ofthe swimming bodies, but whether with effect it was impossible at thetime to tell.

IV

The pirate captain did not die immediately. He lingered for three orfour days, now and then unconscious, now and then semi-conscious, butalways deliriously wandering. All the while he thus lay dying, themulatto woman, with whom he lived in this part of his extraordinary dualexistence, nursed and cared for him with such rude attentions as thesurroundings afforded. In the wanderings of his mind the same dualityof life followed him. Now and then he would appear the calm, sober,self-contained, well-ordered member of a peaceful society that hisfriends in his faraway home knew him to be; at other times the netherpart of his nature would leap up into life like a wild beast, furiousand gnashing. At the one time he talked evenly and clearly of peacefulthings; at the other time he blasphemed and hooted with fury.

Several times Mainwaring, though racked by his own wounds, sat besidethe dying man through the silent watches of the tropical nights.Oftentimes upon these occasions as he looked at the thin, lean facebabbling and talking so aimlessly, he wondered what it all meant. Couldit have been madness—madness in which the separate entities of good andbad each had, in its turn, a perfect and distinct existence? He chose tothink that this was the case. Who, within his inner consciousness, doesnot feel that same ferine, savage man struggling against the stern,adamantine bonds of morality and decorum? Were those bonds burstasunder, as it was with this man, might not the wild beast rush forth,as it had rushed forth in him, to rend and to tear? Such were thequestions that Mainwaring asked himself. And how had it all come about?By what easy gradations had the respectable Quaker skipper descendedfrom the decorum of his home life, step by step, into such a gulf ofiniquity? Many such thoughts passed through Mainwaring's mind, and hepondered them through the still reaches of the tropical nights while hesat watching the pirate captain struggle out of the world he had so longburdened. At last the poor wretch died, and the earth was well quit ofone of its torments.

A systematic search was made through the island for the scattered crew,but none was captured. Either there were some secret hiding places uponthe island (which was not very likely) or else they had escaped in boatshidden somewhere among the tropical foliage. At any rate they were gone.

Nor, search as he would, could Mainwaring find a trace of any of thepirate treasure. After the pirate's death and under close questioning,the weeping mulatto woman so far broke down as to confess in brokenEnglish that Captain Scarfield had taken a quantity of silver moneyaboard his vessel, but either she was mistaken or else the pirates hadtaken it thence again and had hidden it somewhere else.

Nor would the treasure ever have been found but for a most fortuitousaccident. Mainwaring had given orders that the Eliza Cooper was to beburned, and a party was detailed to carry the order into execution. Atthis the cook of the Yankee came petitioning for some of the Wilmingtonand Brandywine flour to make some plum duff upon the morrow, andMainwaring granted his request in so far that he ordered one of themen to knock open one of the barrels of flour and to supply the cook'sdemands.

The crew detailed to execute this modest order in connection with thedestruction of the pirate vessel had not been gone a quarter of an hourwhen word came back that the hidden treasure had been found.

Mainwaring hurried aboard the Eliza Cooper, and there in the midst ofthe open flour barrel he beheld a great quantity of silver coin buriedin and partly covered by the white meal. A systematic search was nowmade. One by one the flour barrels were heaved up from below and burstopen on the deck and their contents searched, and if nothing but themeal was found it was swept overboard. The breeze was whitened withclouds of flour, and the white meal covered the surface of the ocean foryards around.

In all, upward of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars was foundconcealed beneath the innocent flour and meal. It was no wonder thepirate captain was so successful, when he could upon an instant's noticetransform himself from a wolf of the ocean to a peaceful Quaker traderselling flour to the hungry towns and settlements among the scatteredislands of the West Indies, and so carrying his bloody treasure safelyinto his quiet Northern home.

In concluding this part of the narrative it may be added that a widestrip of canvas painted black was discovered in the hold of the ElizaCooper. Upon it, in great white letters, was painted the name, "TheBloodhound." Undoubtedly this was used upon occasions to cover the realand peaceful title of the trading schooner, just as its captain had, inreverse, covered his sanguine and cruel life by a thin sheet of moralityand respectability.

This is the true story of the death of Capt. Jack Scarfield.

The Newburyport chap-book, of which I have already spoken, speaks onlyof how the pirate disguised himself upon the ocean as a Quaker trader.

Nor is it likely that anyone ever identified Eleazer Cooper with thepirate, for only Mainwaring of all the crew of the Yankee was exactlyaware of the true identity of Captain Scarfield. All that was ever knownto the world was that Eleazer Cooper had been killed in a fight with thepirates.

In a little less than a year Mainwaring was married to LucindaFairbanks. As to Eleazer Cooper's fortune, which eventually came intothe possession of Mainwaring through his wife, it was many times asubject of speculation to the lieutenant how it had been earned. Therewere times when he felt well assured that a part of it at least was thefruit of piracy, but it was entirely impossible to guess how much morewas the result of legitimate trading.

For a little time it seemed to Mainwaring that he should give it all up,but this was at once so impracticable and so quixotic that he presentlyabandoned it, and in time his qualms and misdoubts faded away and hesettled himself down to enjoy that which had come to him through hismarriage.

In time the Mainwarings removed to New York, and ultimately the fortunethat the pirate Scarfield had left behind him was used in part tofound the great shipping house of Mainwaring & Bigot, whose famoustransatlantic packet ships were in their time the admiration of thewhole world.

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