Blackbeard: Buccaneer

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

  CHAPTER II

  THE MERCHANT TRADER, _PLYMOUTH ADVENTURE_

  RUBBING his ear which Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes had soundly boxedbefore releasing him, Jack marched along in gloomy silence until he wasconducted into his small, unplastered room. His uncle stalked out andshot the ponderous bolt behind him. Passing through the kitchen, hehalted to scold the black cook as a lazy slattern and then sat himselfdown to a lonely meal. Jack was a problem which the finicky, middle-agedbachelor had been unable to solve. He had undertaken the care of the boyafter his parents had died in the same week of a mysterious fever whichravaged the settlement. The uncle failed to realize how fast thisstrapping youngster was growing into manhood. He disliked punishing himand was usually unhappy after one of these stormy episodes.

  Mr. Peter Forbes pecked at his dinner with little appetite and his plumpface was clouded. Shoving back his chair, he paced the floor in afidgety manner and, at length, opened the door of Jack's room. Thehungry prisoner was lounging upon a wooden settle, his chin in his hand,while he sullenly stared at the wall. Always mindful of his manners, heslowly rose to his feet and waited for another scolding.

  "I wish we might avoid such scenes as these, Jack," sadly observed UnclePeter, his hot temper cooled. "No sooner do you leave my sight than somenew mischief is afoot."

  "You do not understand, sir," impatiently protested the nephew. "In youreyes I am still the urchin who came out from England clinging to hisdear mother's skirts. Would ye have me pass my time with girls or haveno other friends than snuffy old Parson Throckmorton, my tutor, whotries to pound the Greek and Latin into my thick skull?"

  "He is a wise and ripened scholar who wastes his effort," was the drycomment. "Most of the lads of the town are coarse louts who patternafter their ribald elders, Jack. They will lead you into evil courses."

  "I shall always pray God to be a gentleman, sir," was the spiritedresponse, "but I must learn to fight my own battles. Were it not forhardy pastimes with these other stout lads, think you I could havecracked the crown of a six-foot pirate?"

  Uncle Peter gazed at the boy before he spoke. Tanned and hard andmuscular, this was a nephew to be proud of, a man in deeds if not inyears, and there was unswerving honesty in the straight mouth and firmchin. The guardian sighed and then annoyance got the better of hisaffection as he burst out:

  "Perdition take all pirates! You were cozened by this hell-rake of aStede Bonnet and thought it a rare pleasure! John Spencer Cockrell, ownnephew to the Secretary of the Colony!"

  "I did but copy older men of fair repute," demurely answered Jack, atwinkle in his eye. "Graybeards of Parson Throckmorton's flock traffickin merchandise with the pirates and are mighty civil to them, I note."

  "A vile business!" cried Uncle Peter. "It was decided at the recentconference in Virginia that I should go to England as a delegate to laybefore His Majesty's Government such evidence as might invoke aid in ourcampaign against the pirates. It was my intention to leave you in careof Parson Throckmorton, Jack, but I have now resolved to take you withme. And you will remain at school in England. No more of this booncomradeship with villains like Stede Bonnet."

  Poor Jack looked most unhappy at the tidings. It was not at all inaccord with his ambitions. Here was worse punishment than he had dreamedhis uncle could inflict. Dolefully he exclaimed:

  "To live in tame and stupid England, locked up in a school? Why, I ambig enough to join the forays against the Indians, or to fight bloodybattles against the pirates if you really mean to chastise them. But Icannot promise to attack Captain Bonnet. He is a friend of mine."

  "You shall come to see him hanged," shouted Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes,very red in the face. "The merchant ship _Plymouth Adventure_ isexpected soon, and you and I shall take passage in her for MerryEngland, thanking heaven to see the last of the barbarous Carolinas fora time."

  "Thank your own thanks, sir," grumbled Jack. "Captain Bonnet may be apirate but he is not nearly so heartless as my own uncle. He asked me todinner at the tavern. I am faint for lack of food. My stomach sticks tomy ribs. 'Tis a great pity you were never a growing boy yourself. For aplatter of cold meat and bread I will take my oath to chop you a pile offirewood as high as the kitchen."

  The gaoler relented and bustled out to ransack the pantry. Havingdemolished a joint and a loaf, young John Spencer Cockrell was in a moodmuch less melancholy. In fact, when he swung the axe behind the fence ofhewn palings, he was humming the refrain of that wicked ditty: "_Yo, Ho,with the Rum Below!_" He was tremendously sorry that he had beensnatched away from the engaging society of Captain Bonnet and his wildcrew, and the future had a gloomy aspect, but even these grievances wereforgotten when he descried, in a lane which led past the house, thelovely maid whose cause he had championed at the wharf.

  She was Dorothy, only daughter of Colonel Malcolm Stuart who commandedthe militia forces of the Colony. Although she was the elder by two orthree years and gave herself the airs of a young lady, Jack Cockrellhopelessly, secretly adored her. It was an anti-climax for a hero to beserving out his sentence at the wood-pile and he turned his back to thegate while he made the chips fly. But Dorothy had no intention ofignoring him. She paused with a smile so winsome that Jack's heartfluttered and he dropped the axe to grasp her outstretched hand. Hesqueezed it so hard that Dorothy winced as she said:

  "What a masterful man it is, but please don't crush my poor fingers. Ifled from those pirates at the wharf, Jack, instead of waiting to offeryou my most humble thanks. Will you accept them now? They come straightfrom the heart."

  For such a reward as this Jack would have fought a dozen pirates. Baringhis head, he murmured bashfully:

  "A trifling service, Mistress Dorothy, and 'tis my devout hope that Imay always be ready in time of need."

  "So?" she exclaimed, with mischief in her eyes. "I believe you wouldslay a pirate each morning before breakfast, should I ask it."

  "Or any other small favors like that," gallantly returned Jack.

  "A proper courtier," cried Dorothy. "My father will thank you when hereturns from North Carolina. When I ventured to the wharf this morningit was in hopes of sighting his armed sloop."

  The dwelling of Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes was at some distance from thetavern which was on the sloping ground that overlooked the harbor, amongthe spreading live-oaks and magnolias. Borne on the breeze came thesounds of Stede Bonnet's pirates at their revels, pistol shots, wildchoruses, drunken yells. Jack was not disturbed although MistressDorothy moved closer and laid a hand on his arm. Presently the tumultceased, abruptly, and now Jack was perplexed. It might mean a suddenrecall to the ship. Something was in the wind. The youth and the maidstood listening. Jack was about to scramble to the roof of the house inorder to gaze toward the harbor but Dorothy bade him stay with her. Herfair cheek had paled and she shivered with a vague apprehension.

  This sudden stillness was uncanny, threatening. Soon, however, a trumpetblew a long, shrill call to arms, and they heard one hoarse, jubilanthuzza after another.

  "Have Stede Bonnet's pirates mustered to sack the town?" imploredDorothy.

  "I can speedily find out," replied her protector.

  "Oh, I pray you not to leave me," she tremulously besought him.

  "Captain Bonnet will wreak no harm on Charles Town," Jack assured her."I know him too well for that. You saw what he did to the base varletwho annoyed you at the wharf,--felled him like an ox."

  "If only my father were here, to call out the troops and rout thisrabble of sea rogues, Jack dear," was her fluttering prayer.

  A little after this, the tumult increased and it was drawing nearer. Itwas a martial clamor of men on the march, with the rattle of drums and aloud fanfare of trumpets. Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes came running out ofthe house, all flustered and waving his hands, and ordered the two youngpeople indoors. The servants were closing the heavy wooden shutters andsliding the bars across the doors.

  Jack slipped out into the lane and hailed a neighbor who dashed past.The news was
babbled in fragments and Jack scurried back to blurt to hisuncle:

  "An Indian raid,--the savages are within a dozen miles of Charles Town,laying waste the plantations,--slaying the laborers. The militia iscalled to arms but they lack a leader. Colonel Stuart is sorely missed.Captain Bonnet called another boat-load of his pirates ashore, and theymarch in the van to assail the Indians. May I go with them, Uncle Peter?Must I play the coward and the laggard?"

  "Nonsense, John Cockrell. These mad pirates have addled your wits. ShallI let you be scalped by these painted fiends of Yemassees?"

  "Then you will volunteer in my stead," shrewdly ventured Jack, with aglance at Dorothy.

  "Um-m. Duty and my official cares prevent," quoth the worshipfulSecretary of the Colony, frowning and pursing his lips. Dorothy smiledat this and winked at Jack. Uncle Peter was rated a better lawyer than avaliant man of war.

  "Let us stand at a window," exclaimed the girl. "Ah, they come! Myfaith, but this is a brave array. And Captain Bonnet leads them well."

  She had never expected to praise a pirate but there was no denying thatthis lean, straight rover in the scarlet coat and great cocked hatlooked the part of a competent and intrepid soldier. He was superbly fitfor the task in hand. Catching sight of Jack Cockrell and Dorothy Stuartin the window, he saluted by raising the hilt of his cutlass and hismelancholy visage brightened in a smile.

  Behind him tramped his men in column of fours, matchlocks across theirshoulders, bright weapons swinging against their thighs as they sang alltogether and kept step to the beat of the drums.

  "But ere to Execution Bay, The wind these bones do blow, I'll drink an' fight what's left away, _Yo, ho, with the rum below_."

  Behind these hardy volunteers straggled as many of the militia companyas had been able to answer the sudden call, merchants, clerks, artisans,and vagabonds who seemed none too eager to meet the bloodthirstyYemassees. Their wives and children trailed after them to the edge ofthe town, amidst tears and loud lamentations. The contrast did notescape the eye of Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes who reluctantly admitted:

  "Give the devil his due, say I. These wicked brethren of the coast goswaggering off of their own free will, as though it were to a frolic. Iwill remember it in their favor when they come to hang."

  A long roll of the drums and a lilting flourish by the pirate trumpeteras a farewell to Charles Town and its tavern and its girls, and thecompany passed from view. The lane was again deserted and silent andJack offered to escort Dorothy Stuart to her own home. As they loiteredacross an open field, he cried in a fierce flare of rebellion:

  "My good uncle will drive me too far. Let him sail for old England andleave me to find my own career. Upon my soul, I may run away to join apirate ship."

  Dorothy tried to look grave at this dreadful announcement but a dimpleshowed in her cheek as she replied:

  "My dear Jack, you can never be braver but you will be wiser some day.Banish such silly thoughts. You must obey your lawful guardian."

  "But did you see the lads in the militia company? Two or three of them Ihave whipped in fair fight. And Uncle Peter wants to keep me tucked in acradle."

  "Softly, Jack," said she, with pretty solicitude. "Stede Bonnet hasbewitched you utterly."

  The stubborn youth shook his head. This day of humiliation had been thelast straw. He was ripe for desperate adventure. It would have made himhappy and contented to be marching against the Indians with Stede Bonnetand his cut-throats, in peril of tomahawks and ambuscades.

  Small wonder that poor Jack Cockrell's notions of right and wrong wererather confused, for he lived in an age when might ruled blue water,when every ship was armed and merchant seamen fought to save their skinsas well as their cargoes. English, French, Spanish, and Dutch, theyplundered each other on the flimsiest pretexts and the pirates harriedthem all.

  Still sulky, Jack betook himself to the rectory next morning for hisdaily bout with his studies. Parson Throckmorton was puttering in thegarden, a shrunken little man who wore black small-clothes, lace at hiswrists, and a powdered wig. Opening the silver snuff-box he almostsneezed the wig off before he chirruped:

  "Ye mind me of Will Shakespeare's whining schoolboy, MasterJohn,--creeping like snail unwillingly to school. A treat is in storefor us to-day, a signal treat! We begin our Virgil. '_Arma virumquecano._'"

  "Arms and a man? I like that much of it," glowered the mutinous scholar,"but my uncle makes me sing a different tune."

  "He accepted my advice,--that you be educated in England," said theparson.

  "Then I may hold you responsible for this hellish thing?" angrilydeclaimed Jack. "Were it not for your white hairs----"

  He subsided and had the grace to apologize as they entered the library.The tutor was an impatient old gentleman and the pupil was soinattentive that his knuckles were sharply rapped with a ruler. Ablunder more glaring and the ruler came down with another whack. Thiswas too much for Jack who jumped up, rubbed his knuckles, and shouted:

  "Enough, sir. I would have you know that I all but killed a big, uglypirate yesterday."

  "So rumor informs me," rasped Parson Throckmorton, "but you will giveyourself no grand airs with me. Construe this passage properly or I musttan those leather breeches with a limber rod."

  This was too much for the insulted Jack who slammed down the book,clapped on his hat, and tramped from the room in high dudgeon. Suchscurvy treatment as this was fairly urging him to a life of crime on therolling ocean. He wandered down to the wharf and wistfully gazed at thelawless brig, _Royal James_, which swam at her anchorage in trim andgraceful beauty. A few men moved briskly on deck, painting the bulwarksor polishing brass. Evidently Stede Bonnet had sent off word to be alltaut and ready to hoist sail for another cruise.

  After a while the truant went homeward and manfully confessed to thequarrel with Parson Throckmorton. Uncle Peter Forbes was amazingly mild.There was no gusty outbreak of temper and, in fact, he had little tosay. It was in his mind to patch up a truce with his troublesome nephewpending their departure for England. He even suggested that the studiesbe dropped and advised Jack to go fishing in his canoe.

  Several days later, Captain Bonnet and his pirates came back from theirforay against the Indians. They were a foot-sore, weary band, thewounded carried in litters and several men missing. Their gay garmentswere caked with mud, the finery all tatters, and most of them weremarked with cuts and scratches, but they pulled themselves together andswaggered into Charles Town as boldly as ever to the music of trumpetand drum. Stede Bonnet carried an arm in a sling. As he passed theSecretary's house he cheerily called out to Jack:

  "Ahoy, my young comrade! 'Twill please you to know that fair MistressDorothy Stuart may sleep in peace."

  "Did you scatter the savages, sir?" asked Jack, running out to shake hishand.

  "God bless ye, boy, we exterminated 'em."

  The gratitude of Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes was stronger than hisdislike and he came out to thank the captain in behalf of the citizensof Charles Town. To his excited questions the pirate replied:

  "There be old buccaneers from Hispaniola in my crew, may it please YourExcellency,--fellows who hunted the Indians in their youth,--tracked 'emlike hounds through forest and bayou. Others served their time with thelog-wood cutters of Yucatan. They laughed at the tricks of theseYemassees of the Carolinas."

  One of the militia company broke in to say to Mr. Forbes:

  "Your Honor's own plantation was saved from the torch by this doughtyCaptain Bonnet. It was there he pulled the flint arrow-head from his armand was near bleeding to death."

  Mr. Peter Forbes could do no less than invite the pirate into the house,for the wounded arm had been rudely bandaged and was in sore need ofdressing. Jack fetched a tray of cakes and wine while his uncle bawledat the servants who came running with soft cloths and hot water andhealing lotions. Captain Bonnet protested that the hurt was trifling andcarelessly explained:

  "My own ship's surgeo
n was spitted on a boarding-pike in our last actionat sea and I have not found me another one. You show much skill andtenderness, sir."

  "The wound is deep and ragged. Hold still," commanded Mr. Peter Forbes."You have been a soldier, Captain Bonnet, commended for valor on thefields of Europe and holding the king's commission. Why not seek pardonand serve with the armed forces of this province? My services in thematter are yours to command."

  Stede Bonnet frowned and bit his lip. All he said was:

  "You meddle with matters that concern you not, my good sir. I am a manable to make my own free choice."

  "Captain Bonnet does honor to the trade of piracy," cried the admiringJack, at which his uncle declared, with a wrathful gesture:

  "I must remove this daft lad to England to be rid of you, Stede Bonnet.You have cast a wicked spell over him."

  "To England?" said the pirate, with a sympathetic glance at the boy. "Iwould sooner lie in gaol."

  "And reap your deserts," snapped Uncle Peter.

  "No doubt of that," frankly agreed the pirate. "And what thinks the ladof this sad penance?"

  "I hate it," was Jack's swift answer. "Will you grant our merchant shipsafe conduct, Captain Bonnet?"

  "What ship, boy? You have only to name her. She will go scathless, asfar as in my power."

  "The _Plymouth Adventure_," replied Jack. "It would ruin my uncle'stemper beyond all mending to be taken by pirates."

  "I pledge you my word," swore Stede Bonnet. "Moreover, if troublebefall you by sea or land, Master Cockrell, I pray you send me tidingsand you will have a friend in need."

  That night those who dwelt near the harbor heard the clank of a windlassas the crew of the _Royal James_ hove the cable short, and themelodious, deep-throated refrain of a farewell chantey floated acrossthe quiet water. With the flood of the tide and a landward breeze, thebrig stole out across the bar while the topsails were sheeted home. Whendaylight dawned, she had vanished in the empty reaches of the Atlantic.

  The brig sailed without Jack Cockrell. His shrewd uncle saw to that. Itwas not by accident that a constable of the town watch loitered in thelane by the Secretary's house. And Uncle Peter himself was careful notto let the lad out of his sight until the beguiling Stede Bonnet hadleft his haunts in Charles Town. Life resumed its routine next day butthe boy's whole current of thought had been changed. He was restless,craving some fresh excitement and hoping that more pirates might comeroaring to the tavern green.

  He found welcome diversion when the _Plymouth Adventure_, merchanttrader, arrived from London after a famous passage of thirty-two days tothe westward. Her master's orders were to make quick dispatch and returnwith freight and passengers direct from Charles Town. Jack was given nomore leisure to brood over his own misfortunes. There were many errandsto be done for Mr. Peter Forbes, besides the chests and boxes to bepacked and stoutly corded. As was the custom, they had to supply theirown furniture for the cabin in the ship and Jack Cockrell enjoyed thefrequent trips aboard.

  He found much to interest him in the sedate, bearded Captain JonathanWellsby of the _Plymouth Adventure_, in the crew of hearty British tarswho feared neither man nor devil, in the battery of nine-pounders, thestands of boarding-pikes, and the triced hammock nettings to protect thevessel against hand-to-hand encounters with pirates. The voyage might beworth while, after all. There were to be a dozen of passengers, severalladies among them. The most distinguished was Mr. Peter ArbuthnotForbes, Secretary of the Provincial Council, who was accorded thegreatest respect and given the largest cabin.

  It was an important event when the _Plymouth Adventure_ hoisted all herbunting on sailing day and Charles Town flocked to the harbor withwistful envy of the lucky people who were bound home to old England.There were sad faces among those left behind to endure the perils,hardships and loneliness of pioneers. Jack Cockrell's heart beat highwhen he saw sweet Dorothy Stuart in the throng. He tarried ashore withher until the boatswain's pipe trilled from the _Plymouth Adventure_ tosummon the passengers on board. Colonel Stuart, blonde and bronzed andstalwart, escorted his winsome daughter and he praised Jack for hisdeed of courage, telling him:

  "There will soon be fewer pirates for you to trounce, I hope, my lad."

  "The town will be a stupid place without a visit from the jolly roversnow and then," honestly replied Jack, at which Colonel Stuart laughedand his daughter suggested:

  "With my brave knight in distant England, deliver me from any morepirates."

  Jack blushed and was both happy and sad when the dear maid took a flowerfrom her bodice and gave it to him as a token of remembrance. Hesolemnly tucked it away in a pocket, stammered his farewells, and wentto join his uncle who waited in the yawl at the wharf. Once on board the_Plymouth Adventure_, they were swept into a bustle and confusion.Captain Jonathan Wellsby was in haste to catch a fair wind and make hisoffing before nightfall. His sailors ran to and fro, jumping at theword, active and cheery. Stately and slow, the high-pooped merchanttrader filled away on the larboard tack and pointed her lofty bowspritseaward.

  The watches were set, ropes coiled down, and the tackles of the cannonoverhauled. The skipper paced the after-deck, a long telescope under hisarm, while the passengers lined the rail and gazed at the rudesettlement that was slowly dropping below the horizon. The sea wastranquil and the breeze steady. The ship was clothed in canvas whichbellied to drive her eastward with a frothing wake. Safely she left theouter bar astern and wallowed in the ocean swell.

  The afternoon sun was sinking when a sail gleamed like a bit of cloudagainst the southerly sky. Captain Wellsby held to his course and showedno uneasiness. Soon another sail became visible and then a third, thesetwo smaller than the first. They might be honest merchantmen steering incompany, but the skipper consulted with his mates and the spy-glasspassed from hand to hand. The passengers were at supper in the cuddy andtheir talk and laughter came through the open skylights.

  Presently the boatswain piped the crew to quarters and the men movedquietly to their battle stations, opening the gun-ports and castingloose the lashings. The boys fetched paper cartridges of powder inbuckets from the magazine and the gunners lighted the matches of tow.Cutlasses were buckled on and the pikes were scattered along thebulwarks ready to be snatched up.

  It was impossible to escape these three strange vessels by beating backto Charles Town, for the _Plymouth Adventure_ made lubberly work of itwhen thrashing to windward. She was a swift ship, however, before a fairwind, and Captain Wellsby resolved to run for it, hoping to edge awayfrom danger if his suspicions should be confirmed.

  Before sunset the largest of the strange sail shifted her course asthough to set out in chase and overhaul the deep-laden merchant trader.Captain Wellsby stood near the tiller, his hands clasped behind him, asolid, dependable figure of a British mariner. The passengers werecrowding around him in distressful agitation but he calmly assured thema stern chase was a long chase and he expected to slip away under coverof night. So far as he was aware, no pirates, excepting Stede Bonnet,had been recently reported in these waters.

  Here Mr. Peter Forbes broke in to say that the _Plymouth Adventure_ hadnaught to fear from Captain Bonnet who had pledged his word to let hersail unmolested. Other passengers scoffed at the absurd notion oftrusting a pirate's oath, but the pompous Secretary of the Council couldnot be cried down. He was a canny critic of human nature and he knew anhonorable pirate when he met him.

  It was odd, but in a pinch like this the dapper, finicky Councilor PeterArbuthnot Forbes displayed an unshaken courage as became a gentleman ofhis position, while young Jack Cockrell had suddenly changed his opinionof the fascinating trade of piracy. He had not the slightest desire toinvestigate it at any closer range. His knees were inclined to wobbleand his stomach felt qualms. His uncle twitted him as a braggart ashorewho sang a different tune afloat. The lad's grin was feeble as heretorted that he took his pirates one at a time.

  The largest vessel of the pursuit came up at a tremendous pace, reelingbeneath an extraord
inary spread of canvas, her spray-swept hulldisclosing an armament of thirty guns, the decks swarming with men. Shewas no merchant ship, this was already clear, but there was still thehope that she might be a man-of-war or a privateer. Captain Wellsbylooked in vain for her colors. At length he saw a flag whip from thespanker gaff. He laid down the glass with a profound sigh.

  The flag was black with a sinister device, a white blotch whose outlinesuggested a human skull.

  Captain Wellsby gazed again and carefully examined the two sloops whichwere acting in concert with the thirty-gun ship. It was a squadron, andthe brave _Plymouth Adventure_ was hopelessly outmatched. To fight meanta slaughter with never a chance of survival.

  The passengers had made no great clamor until the menacing ship drewclose enough for them to descry the dreadful pennant which showed as asable blot against the evening sky. Two women fainted and others wereseized with violent hysteria. Their shrill screams were so distressingthat the skipper ordered them to be lugged below and shut in theircabins. Mr. Peter Forbes had plumped himself down upon a coil of hawser,as if utterly disgusted, but he implored the captain to blaze away atthe besotted scoundrels as long as two planks held together. TheHonorable Secretary of the Council had been too outspoken in hisopinions of pirates to expect kindness at their hands.

  The sailors also expected no quarter but they sullenly crouched at thegun-carriages, gripping the handspikes and blowing the matches whilethey waited for the word. The pirate ship was now reaching to windwardof the _Plymouth Adventure_, heeling over until her decks were in fullview. Upon the poop stood a man of the most singular appearance. He wassquat and burly and immensely broad across the shoulders. What made himgrotesque was a growth of beard which swept almost to his waist andcovered his face like a hairy curtain. In it were tied bright streamersof crimson ribbon. Evidently this fantastic monster was proud of hiswhiskers and liked to adorn them.

  The laced hat with a feather in it, the skirted coat of buff and bluewhich flapped around his bow-legs, and the rows of gold buttons acrosshis chest were in slovenly imitation of a naval uniform. But there wasnothing like naval discipline on those crowded decks where half the crewappeared to be drunk and the rest of them cursing each other.

  Captain Jonathan Wellsby smothered a groan and his stern mouth twitchedas he said to his chief mate:

  "God's mercy on us! 'Tis none other than the bloody Edward Teach,--thatcalls himself Blackbeard! My information was that he still cruised offthe Spanish Main and refitted his ships in the Bay of Honduras."

  "The madman of the sea," said the stolid mate. "A bad day for us when hesailed to the north'ard. He kills for the pleasure of it. Now StedeBonnet loots such stuff as takes his fancy and----"

  "He loves to fight a king's ship for the sport of it," broke in theskipper, "but this murderer---- An unlucky voyage for the old _PlymouthAdventure_ and all hands, Mate."

  One of the women who had been suffered to remain on deck was closeenough to overhear the direful news. Her hands to heaven, she wailed:

  "Blackbeard! Oh, my soul, we are as good as dead, or worse. Fight andsink him, dear captain. What shall I do? What shall I do? If I had onlyminded the dream I had the night before we sailed----"

  Jack Cockrell sat down beside his uncle, a limp and sorry youth for onewho had offered to slay a six-foot pirate before breakfast to please apretty maid. With a sickly grin he murmured:

  "This cockerel crowed too loud, Uncle Peter. Methinks I share yourdistaste for piracy."