Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates

by Howard Pyle

  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 thatw
hoever 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 th
eblack, 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 tw
o 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 p
oundswas 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, p
ut 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.