[Illustration: THIS LEAN, STRAIGHT ROVER LOOKED THE PART OF A COMPETENTSOLDIER]

BLACKBEARD BUCCANEER

_By_ RALPH D. PAINE

[Illustration]

 _Illustrated by Frank E. Schoonover_

 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA

 COPYRIGHT 1922 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

 Blackbeard: Buccaneer

 Made in the U. S. A. 

Contents

 I. THAT COURTEOUS PIRATE, CAPTAIN BONNET 7

 II. THE MERCHANT TRADER, _PLYMOUTH ADVENTURE_ 21

 III. HELD AS HOSTAGES TO BLACKBEARD 43

 IV. THE CAPTIVE SEAMEN IN THE FORECASTLE 62

 V. RELEASING A FEARFUL WEAPON 79

 VI. THE VOYAGE OF THE LITTLE RAFT 99

 VII. THE MIST OF THE CHEROKEE SWAMP 114

 VIII. THE EPISODE OF THE WINDING CREEK 132

 IX. BLACKBEARD'S ERRAND IS INTERRUPTED 147

 X. THE SEA URCHIN AND THE CARPENTER'S MATE 161

 XI. JACK JOURNEYS AFOOT 177

 XII. A PRIVATE ACCOUNT TO SETTLE 189

 XIII. OUR HEROES SEEK SECLUSION 203

 XIV. BLACKBEARD APPEARS IN FIRE AND BRIMSTONE 217

 XV. MR. PETER FORBES MOURNS HIS NEPHEW 232

 XVI. NED RACKHAM'S PLANS GO MUCH AMISS 248

 XVII. THE GREAT FIGHT OF CAPTAIN TEACH 260

 XVIII. THE OLD BUCCANEER IS LOYAL 274

 XIX. THE QUEST FOR PIRATES' GOLD 288

ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGE

 THIS LEAN, STRAIGHT ROVER LOOKED THE PART OF A COMPETENT SOLDIER _Frontispiece_

 THE BRAWN OF THESE LADS MADE THE PIKE A MATCH FOR A PIRATE'S CUTLASS 83

 THE FIRST MATE LEAPED UP WITH A HORRIBLE YELL 120

 JACK ALMOST BUMPED INTO THE DUGOUT CANOE 129

 THEY CAPERED AND HUGGED EACH OTHER 164

 HE LOOMED LIKE THE BELIAL WHOM HE WAS SO FOND OF CLAIMING AS HIS MENTOR 224

[Illustration]

Blackbeard: Buccaneer

CHAPTER I

THAT COURTEOUS PIRATE, CAPTAIN BONNET

THE year of 1718 seems very dim and far away, but the tall lad whosauntered down to the harbor of Charles Town, South Carolina, on a fine, bright morning, was much like the youngsters of this generation. Hisclothes were quite different, it is true, and he lived in a queer, roughworld, but he detested grammar and arithmetic and loved adventure, andwould have made a sturdy tackle for a modern high-school football team. He wore a peaked straw hat of Indian weave, a linen shirt open at thethroat, short breeches with silver buckles at the knees, and aflint-lock pistol hung from his leather belt. 

He passed by scattered houses and stores which were mere log hutsloopholed for defense, with shutters and doors of hewn plank heavyenough to stop a musket ball. The unpaved lanes wandered between mudholes in which pigs wallowed enjoyably. Negro slaves, half-naked andbearing heavy burdens, jabbered the dialects of the African jungle fromwhich they had been kidnapped a few months before. Yemassee Indians cladin tanned deer-skins bartered with the merchants and hid their hatred ofthe English. Jovial, hard-riding gentlemen galloped in from the indigoplantations and dismounted at the tavern to drink and gamble and fightduels at the smallest excuse. 

Young Jack Cockrell paid scant heed to these accustomed sights butwalked as far as the wharf built of palmetto piling. The wide harbor andthe sea that flashed beyond the outer bar were ruffled by a pipingbreeze out of the northeast. The only vessel at anchor was a heavilysparred brig whose bulwarks were high enough to hide the rows of cannonbehind the closed ports. 

The lad gazed at the shapely brig with a lively curiosity, as if herewas something really interesting. Presently a boat splashed into thewater and was tied alongside the vessel while a dozen of the crewtumbled in to sprawl upon the thwarts and shove the oars into thethole-pins. An erect, graceful man in a red coat and a great beaver hatroared a command from the stern-sheets and the pinnace pulled in thedirection of the wharf. 

"Pirates, to be sure!" said Jack Cockrell to himself, without a sign ofalarm. "'Tis Captain Stede Bonnet and his _Royal James_. I know theship. I saw her when she came in leaking last October and was careenedon the beach at Sullivan's Island. A rich voyage this time, for the brigrides deep. "

The coast of South Carolina swarmed with pirates two hundred years ago, and they cared not a rap for the law. Indeed, some of these rascalslived on friendly terms with the people of the small settlements andswaggered ashore to squander the broad gold pieces and merchandisestolen from honest trading vessels. You must not blame the SouthCarolina colonists too harshly because they sometimes welcomed thevisiting pirates instead of clapping them in jail. Charles Town was avillage at the edge of a wilderness filled with hostile Indians. By seait stood in fear of attack by the Spaniards of Florida and Havana. Therewere almost no crops for food and among the population were manyrunaways from England, loafers and vagabonds who hated the sight ofwork. 

The pirates helped them fight their enemies and did a thriving trade ingoods that were sorely needed. Respectable citizens grumbled and onehigh official was removed in disgrace because he encouraged the piratesto make Charles Town their headquarters, but there was no general outcryunless the sea-rovers happened to molest English ships outside theharbor. 

It was Captain Stede Bonnet himself who steered the pinnace and cursedhis sweating sailors in a deep voice which went echoing across the bay. He made a brave figure in his scarlet coat, with the brass guard of hisnaked cutlass winking in the sun. His boat's crew had been mustered frommany climes and races, several strapping Englishmen, a wiry, splutteringlittle Frenchman, a swarthy Portuguese with gold rings in his ears, abrace of stolid Norwegians, and two or three coal black negroes fromBarbadoes. 

They were well armed, every weapon burnished clean of rust and ready forinstant use. Some wore tarnished, sea-stained finery looted from haplessprizes, a brocaded waistcoat, a pair of tasseled jack-boots, a plumedhat, a ruffled cape. The heads of several were bound around with knottedkerchiefs on which dark stains showed, --marks of a brawl aboard the brigor a fight with another ship. 

Soon a second boat moved away from the _Royal James_ and many peopledrifted toward the wharf to see the pirates come ashore, but they leftplenty of room when the captain scrambled up the weedy ladder and toldhis men to follow him. Charles Town felt little dread of Stede Bonnethimself. He knew how to conduct himself as a gentleman and the story waswell known, --how he had been a major in the British army and a man ofwealth and refinement. He had left his home in Barbadoes to follow thetrade of piracy because he couldn't get along with his wife, so therumor ran. At any rate, he seemed oddly out of place among the dirtyrogues who sailed under the black flag. 

He looked more the soldier than the sailor as he strode along the wharf, his lean, dark visage both grim and melancholy, his chin clean shaven, his mustachios carefully cropped. There were respectful greetings fromthe crowd of idlers and a gray-haired seaman all warped with rheumatismspoke up louder than the rest. 

"Good morrow to ye, Cap'n Bonnet! I be old Sam Griscom that sailed bos'nwith you on a marchant voyage out of Liverpool. An' now you are a finegentleman of fortune, with moidores and pieces of eight to fling at thegals, an' here I be, a sheer hulk on the beach. "

Captain Stede Bonnet halted, stared from beneath heavy brows, and asmile made his seamed, sun-dried face almost gentle as he replied:

"It cheers me to run athwart a true old shipmate. A slant of illfortune, eh, Sam Griscom? You are too old and crippled to sail in the_Royal James_. Here, and a blessing with the gift. "

The pirate skipper rammed a hand in his pocket and flung a shower ofgold coins at the derelict seaman while the crowd cheered the generousdeed. It was easy to guess why Stede Bonnet was something of a hero inCharles Town. He passed on and turned into the street. Most of hisruffians were at his heels but one of the younger of them delayed to payhis compliments to a pretty girl whose manner was sweet and shy andgentle. She had remained aloof from the crowd, having some errand of herown at the wharf, and evidently hoped to be unobserved. Jack Cockrellhad failed to notice her, absorbed as he was in gazing his fill ofCaptain Stede Bonnet. 

The girl resented the young pirate's gallantry and would have fled, buthe nimbly blocked her path. Just then Jack Cockrell happened to glancethat way and his anger flamed hot. He was about to run after CaptainBonnet and beg him to interfere but the maid's distress was too urgent. Her blackguardly admirer was trying to slip his arm around her trimwaist while he laughingly demanded a kiss from those fair lips. Sheevaded him and screamed for help. 

There were lusty townsmen among those who beheld the scene but theysheepishly stood in their tracks and were afraid to punish the insolentpirate with his dirk and pistols. He was much taller and heavier thanJack Cockrell, the lad of seventeen, who came of gentlefolk and wasunused to brawls with weapons. But the youngster hesitated no more thanan instant, although his own pistol lacked a flint and was carried forshow. 

His quick eye spied a capstan bar which he snatched up as a cudgel. Chivalry had taught him that a man should never reckon the odds when awoman appealed for succor. With a headlong rush he crossed the wharf andswung the hickory bar. The pirate dodged the blow and whipped out hisdirk which slithered through Jack's shirt and scratched his shoulder. Undismayed, he aimed a smashing blow at the pirate's wrist and the dirkwent spinning into the water. 

The rascal tugged at a pistol in his belt but it was awkward work withhis left hand and he was bewildered by this amazing attack. Before hecould clear for action, Jack smote him on the pate and the battle endedthen and there, for the pirate staggered back, missed his footing, andtoppled overboard with a tremendous splash. 

Leaping to the edge of the wharf, Jack saw him bob to the surface andstrike out for shore. Then the doughty young champion ran to offer hisescort to the damsel in distress. But she had hastened to slip away fromthis hateful notoriety and he saw her at the bend of the street whereshe turned to wave him a grateful farewell. 

He would have hastened to overtake her but just then Captain StedeBonnet came striding back in a temper so black that it terrified his ownmen. His wrath was not aimed at Jack Cockrell, for he laid a hand uponthe lad's arm and exclaimed:

"A shrewd stroke, boy, and a mettlesome spirit! You struck him swift andhard. 'Twould please me better if you had killed the dog. "

Stede Bonnet waited with folded arms until the culprit had emerged fromthe water. Jack Cockrell had punished him severely and there was no morefight in him. His head was reeling, the blood ran into his eyes, and hehad swallowed much salt water. Captain Bonnet crooked a finger at himand he obeyed without a word. For a moment they stood face to face, thewretched offender trembling, the captain scowling as he said:

"And so you mistook a lady for a common serving wench, Will Brant? Wouldye have Charles Town rise and reeve the ropes about our necks? Is thisyour promise of good behavior? Learn a lesson then, poor fool. "

With the steel-shod butt of a pistol Stede Bonnet hit him squarelybetween the eyes. He dropped without a groan and lay stretched out as ifdead. The captain kicked him once and carelessly shouted:

"Ho, men! Toss this squire o' dames into the pinnace to await ourreturn. And harkee, take warning. "

Jack Cockrell felt almost sorry for his fallen foeman but the otherpirates grinned and did as they were told. It was a trifling episode. Resuming his stroll to the tavern, Captain Bonnet linked Jack's arm inhis and fairly towed him along while the assorted scoundrels troopedbehind them. It was shocking company for a lad of the most respectableconnections but he felt greatly flattered by the distinction. The nameof Stede Bonnet had spread terror from the Capes of the Chesapeake tothe blue waters of the Caribbean. 

"And so you were unafraid of this bullying Will Brant of mine, " said thecaptain, with one of his pleasant smiles. "You clipped his comb righthandsomely. And who may ye be, my brave young sprig?"

"I am John Spencer Cockrell, may it please you, sir, " was the answer. "'Twas a small thing to do for a lady. Your pirate would have been toomuch for me in a fair set-to. "

"Pirate? A poor word!" objected Captain Bonnet, his accents severe butthe bold eyes twinkling. "We are loyal servants of the King, sworn to domischief to his lawful enemies, --to wit, all ships and sailors of Spain. For such a young gentleman adventurer as you, Master Cockrell, there isa berth in the _Royal James_. Will ye rendezvous at the tavern and signyour fist to the articles?"

Jack stammered that his kinfolk would never consent, at which CaptainBonnet forbore to coax him but kept a grip on his arm as though theywere chums who could not bear to be parted. Down the middle of thestreet paraded this extraordinary company, the seamen breaking into asong which ran:

 "In Bristowe I left Poll ashore, Well stored wi' togs an' gold, And off I go to sea for more, A-piratin' so bold. An' wounded in the arm I got, An' then a pretty blow; Comed home I find Poll's flowed away, _Yo, ho, with the rum below!_"

Charles Town might be glad to get the pirates' gold but it seemed atimorous welcome, for the merchants peered from their doorways likerabbits when the hounds are loose, and nervous old gentlemen took coverin the near-by alleys. Stede Bonnet knew how to keep his men in hand andallowed only part of the company ashore at once. They were likehilarious children out for a lark, capering outside the tavern to themusic of a strolling fiddler or buying horses on the spot and trying toride them. When they were pitched off on their heads the mirth wasuproarious. 

In a field beside the tavern some townsmen were shooting at a mark for aprize of a dressed bullock while a group of gentlemen from theplantations were intent on a cock-fight in the tap-room. Here was rarepastime for the frolicsome blades of the _Royal James_ and soon theywere banging away with their pistols or betting their gold-pieces on thesteel-gaffed birds, singing the louder as the bottle was passed. CaptainStede Bonnet stayed prudently sober, ready for any emergency, hisdemeanor cool and watchful while he chatted with old acquaintances. 

He talked often with Jack Cockrell to whom he had taken a strong fancy, and pressed the lad to dine with him. Jack was uneasy at being seen sopublicly with a notorious pirate but the experience was delightfulbeyond words. The captain asked him many questions, twisting hismustachios and staring down from his commanding height with an air offriendly interest. He had found a lad after his own heart. 

The seamen tired of their sport and sought new diversion. Some of themkicked off their boots and clinched in wrestling matches for prodigalstakes of gold and jewels. Others found girls to dance with them orwandered off to buy useless trinkets in the shops. Jack Cockrell knew heought to be posting home to dinner but he was tempted to accept StedeBonnet's cordial bidding. Boyish friends of his hovered near andregarded him as a hero. No pirate captain had ever deigned to noticethem. 

Alas for Jack and his puffed-up pride which was doomed to a sudden fall!There advanced from a better quarter of the town a florid, foppishlydressed gentleman of middle age who walked with a pompous gait. He wasstout-bodied and the heat of the day oppressed him. Mopping his facewith a lace handkerchief or fanning himself with his hat, he halted nowand then in a shady spot. Very mindful of his rank and dignity was Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, sometime London barrister, at present Secretaryto the Council of the Province. 

He differed from some of his neighbors in that he abominated pirates andwould have given them short shift. A trifle near-sighted, he was quiteclose to the tavern before he espied his own nephew and ward, JackCockrell, in this shameful company of roisterers. The august uncleblinked, opened his mouth, and turned as red as a lobster. Indignationchoked his speech. For his part, Jack stood dumfounded and quaking, thepicture of a coward with a guilty conscience. He would have tried tosteal from sight but it was too late. 

Captain Stede Bonnet enjoyed the tableau and several of his wickedsailors were mimicking the pompous strut of Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes. Poor Jack mumbled some explanation but his irate uncle first paid hisrespects to Captain Bonnet. 

"Shame to you, sirrah, " he cried in a voice that shook with passion. "Aman of good birth, by all accounts, who has fallen so low as to leadthese vile gallows-birds! And you would entice this lad of mine tofollow your dirty trade?"

Captain Bonnet doffed the great beaver hat and bowed low in mockingcourtesy. He perceived that this fussy lawyer was not wholly a popinjay, for it required courage to insult a pirate to his face. The reply wastherefore milder than expected. 

"Mayhap I am painted blacker than the fact, Councilor. As for this finestripling who has so disgraced himself, the fault is mine. He risked hislife to save a maid from harm. The deed won my affection. "

"The maids of Charles Town would need to fear no harm if more pirateswere hanged, Captain Bonnet, " roundly declared Mr. Forbes, shaking hisgold-tipped cane at the freebooter. 

"'Tis fortunate for me that you lack the power, my fat and petulantgentleman, " was the smiling response. 

"Laugh while you may, " quoth the other. "These Provinces may soonproclaim joint action against such pests as you. "

With a shrug, the Secretary turned to his crestfallen nephew and sharplyexclaimed:

"Home with you, John Cockrell. You shall go dinnerless and be locked inyour room. "

The seamen guffawed at this and Jack furiously resented their ridicule. He was on the point of rebellion as he hotly retorted:

"I am no child to be treated thus, Uncle Peter. Didn't you hear CaptainBonnet report that I had proved myself a man? I trounced one of his owncrew, a six-foot bully with a dirk and pistols. "

"A fig for that, " rapped out Uncle Peter. "Your bully was drunk andhelpless, I have no doubt. Will you bandy words with me?"

With this his plump fingers closed on Jack's elbow which he used as ahandle to lead him firmly and rapidly away. Behind them pranced a limberyoung negro who showed every tooth in his head. Jack heard the derisivelaughter of the pirates who had hailed him as a hero. His cup ofbitterness overflowed when it occurred to him that Captain Bonnet woulddespise a lad who could be led home in custody of a dandified tyrant ofan uncle. 

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 surgeon 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 extraordinary 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. "

CHAPTER III

HELD AS HOSTAGES TO BLACKBEARD

TO discover the pestilent Blackbeard in Carolina waters was like athunderbolt from a clear sky. Captain Wellsby had felt confident that hecould beat off the ordinary pirate craft which was apt to be smallerthan his own stout ship. And most of these unsavory gentry were meresalt-water burglars who had little taste for hard fighting. The masterof the _Plymouth Adventure_, so pious and sedate, was a brave man towhom the thought of surrender was intolerable. From what he knew ofBlackbeard, it was useless to try to parley for the lives of hispassengers. Better it was to answer with double-shotted guns than to begfor mercy. 

The British tars, stripped to the waist, turned anxious eyes to theskipper upon the quarter-deck while they quaffed pannikins of rum andwater and cracked many a rough jest. They fancied death no more thanother men, but seafaring was a perilous trade and they were toughened toits hazards. They were facing hopeless odds but let the master shout thecommand and they would send the souls of some of these pirates sizzlingdown to hell before the _Plymouth Adventure_ sank, a splintered hulk, inthe smoke of her own gunpowder. 

Captain Wellsby delayed his decision a moment longer. Something mostunusual had attracted his attention. A ball of smoke puffed from a portof Blackbeard's ship, but the round shot splashed beyond the bowsprit ofthe _Plymouth Adventure_ instead of thudding into her oaken side. Thiswas a signal to heave to. It was a courtesy both unexpected andperplexing, because Blackbeard's habit was to let fly with all the gunsthat could bear as the summons to submit. Presently a dingy bit of clothfluttered just beneath the black flag. It looked like the remains of apirate's shirt which had once been white. 

"A signal for a truce?" muttered Captain Wellsby. "A ruse, mayhap, butthe rogue has no need to resort to trickery. "

The two sloops of Blackbeard's squadron, spreading tall, squaretopsails, came driving down to windward in readiness to fire theirbow-chasers and form in line of battle. The passengers of the _PlymouthAdventure_, snatching at the chance of safety, implored the skipper tosend his men away from the guns lest a rash shot might be their ruin. They prayed him to respect the precious flag of truce and to ascertainthe meaning of it. Mystified and wavering in his purpose, he told themates to back the main-yard and heave the ship to. 

Upon his own deck Blackbeard was stamping to and fro, bellowing at hiscrew while he flourished a broadsword by way of emphasis. The haplesscompany of the _Plymouth Adventure_ shivered at the very sight of himand yet there was something almost ludicrous in the antics of thisatrocious pirate, as though he were play-acting upon the stage of atheatre. He had tucked up the tails of his military coat because thewind whipped them about his bandy legs and made him stumble. The flowingwhiskers also proved bothersome, wherefore he looped them back over hisears by means of the bows of crimson ribbon. This seemed to be hispersonal fashion of clearing for action. 

"There be pirates and pirates, " critically observed Mr. Peter Forbes ashe stared at the unpleasant Blackbeard. "This is a filthy beast, Jack, and he was badly brought up. He has no manners whatever. "

"Parson Throckmorton would take him for the devil himself, " gloomilyanswered the lad. 

And now they saw Blackbeard raise a speaking-trumpet to his lips andheard the hoarse voice come down the wind with this message:

"The ship ahoy! Steady as ye be, blast your eyes, or I'll lay aboard andbutcher all hands. "

He turned and yelled commands to the two sloops which now rolled withinpistol-shot. In helter-skelter style but with great speed, one boatafter another was lowered away and filled with armed pirates. They rowedtoward the _Plymouth Adventure_ and there were enough of them to carryher by boarding. In addition to this, she was directly under the guns ofBlackbeard's powerful ship. One valorous young gentleman passengerwhipped out a rapier and swore to perish with his face to the foe, butCaptain Wellsby kicked him into the cabin and fastened the scuttle. Thiswas no time for dramatics. 

"It looks that the old ruffian comes on a peaceful errand, " said theskipper, by way of comfort. But the hysterical ladies below decksredoubled their screams and one substantial merchant of Charles Townscrambled down to hide himself among them. Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbesfolded his arms and there was no sign of weakness in his pinkcountenance. His dignity still sustained him. 

As agile as monkeys, the mob of pirates poured over the bulwark, slashing through the hammock nettings, and swept forward in a compactmass, driving Captain Wellsby's seamen before them and penning them inthe forecastle. Having cleared the waist of the ship, they loiteredthere until a few of them discovered the galley and pantry. They sweptthe shelves and lockers bare of food like a pack of famished wolves. Jack Cockrell looked at them from the poop and perceived that they werea gaunt, ragged lot. The skins of some were yellow like parchment, andfits of trembling overtook them. Something more than dissipation ailedthem. 

With a body-guard of the sturdiest men, Blackbeard clambered up thepoop ladder and, with wicked oaths, told the skipper to stand forth. Clean and trig and carefully dressed, Captain Jonathan Wellsbyconfronted these savage, unwashed pirates and calmly demanded to knowtheir errand. It was plain to read that Blackbeard thought himself animposing figure. With a smirk and a grimace he bowed clumsily to a womanon deck who had refused to desert her husband. He growled like a bear atCaptain Wellsby and prodded the poor man with his cutlass as hethundered:

"You tried my patience, shipmaster, with your cracking on sail. A littlemore and I'd ha' slit your throat. Blood an' wounds, would ye dare tovex Blackbeard?"

Captain Wellsby faced him with unshaken composure and returned in astrong voice:

"I beg no favors for myself but these helpless people, women amongstthem, came on board with my assurance of safety. They have friends andkinsmen in Charles Town who will ransom them in gold. "

Blackbeard's mien was a shade less ferocious as he cried:

"Gold? Can it cool a fever or heal a festering sore? A score of my menare down and the others are tottering ghosts. Medicines I must have. Afoul plague on those ports of the Spanish Main which laid my fine ladsby the heels. "

Jack Cockrell, who had retreated to the taffrail, decided that thisunkempt pirate was not so absurd as he appeared. There was the strengthof a giant in those hulking shoulders and in the long arms which bulgedthe coat-sleeves, and the man moved with a quickness which made thatclumsy air deceptive. The beard masked his features but the eye was keenand roving, and he had a trick of baring his teeth in a nasty snarl. Heuttered no more threats, however, and seemed to be anxiously awaitingthe reply of Captain Wellsby, who said:

"The few medicines and simples in my chest will not suffice your need. Your ships are rotten with the Spanish fever. "

"A ransom, shipmaster?" exclaimed the pirate. "'Twas in my mind when Iflew a white flag for parley. I will hold some of your fine passengersas hostages while the others go in to rake Charles Town for medicines tofetch back to my fleet. "

"You will send my ship in?" asked the skipper. 

"No! This _Plymouth Adventure_ is my good prize and I will overhaul thecargo and sink her at my leisure. My ship will tack in to Charles Townbar. Then let the messengers go in the long-boat to find the store ofmedicines. Harkee, shipmaster, --two days, no longer, for their return!Failing this, the hostages feed the fishes. Such sport 'ud liven thehearts of my doleful seamen. "

It was a shameful bargain, thus to submit to a pirate's whim, but thewretched ship's company hailed it as a glad surprise. They had stood inthe shadow of death and this was a respite and a chance of salvation. Captain Wellsby was heart-sick with humiliation but it was not for himto take into his hands the fate of all these others. Sadly he noddedassent. Jack Cockrell nudged his uncle and whispered:

"Why doesn't he sail in with his three ships and take what he likes? Thetown lies helpless against such a force as this. "

"Ssh-h, be silent, " was the warning. "He is a wary bird of prey and hefears a trap. He dare not attack the port, since he lacks knowledge ofits defenses. "

Jack's cheek was rosy again and his knees had ceased to tremble. Therewas no immediate prospect of walking the plank. To be captured byBlackbeard was a finer adventure than strutting arm-in-arm with CaptainStede Bonnet. It was mournful, indeed, that Captain Wellsby should haveto lose his ship but 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good and thevoyage to England, which Jack had loathed from the bottom of his heart, was indefinitely postponed. Such an experience as this was apt todiscourage Uncle Peter Forbes from trying it again. 

There were sundry chicken-hearted passengers anxious to curry favor withBlackbeard, who gabbled when they should have held their tongues, and inthis manner he learned that he had bagged the honorable Secretary of theProvincial Council. The bewhiskered pirate slapped his thighs and roaredwith glee. 

"Damme, but he looks it! Alack that my sorry need of medicines compelsme to give quarter! Would I might swing this fat Secretary from atopsail yard! And a rogue of a lawyer to boot! He tempts me----"

"I demand the courtesy due a hostage, " exclaimed Mr. Peter Forbes. 

"Ho, ho, you shall be my lackey, --the chief messenger, " laughedBlackbeard, showing his yellow teeth. "Hat in hand, begging medicinesfor me. "

The honorable Secretary was near apoplexy. He could only sputter andcough. He was to be sent as an errand boy to the people of Charles Town, at the brutal behest of this unspeakable knave, but refusal meant deathand there were his fellow captives to consider. He thought of his nephewand was about to plead that Jack be sent along with him when Blackbearddemanded:

"What of the boy? He takes my eye. No pursy swine of a lawyer could sirea lad of his brawn and inches. "

"I am Master Cockrell, " Jack answered for himself, "and I would have youmore courteous to my worthy uncle. "

It was a speech so bold that the scourge of the Spanish Main tugged athis whiskers with an air of comical perplexity. The headstrong Jack waskeen enough to note that he had made an impression and he rashly added:

"'Tis not long since I knocked a pirate on the head for incivility. "

Mr. Peter Forbes gazed aghast, with slackened jaw, expecting to see hismad nephew cut down by the sweep of a broadsword, but Blackbeard merelygrinned and slapped the lad half-way across the deck with a buffet ofhis open hand. Dizzily Jack picked himself up and was furiously scoldedby his uncle. Their lives hung by a hair and this was no time to playthe fool. For once, however, Jack was the wiser of the two. In anamiable humor Blackbeard exclaimed:

"And so this strapping young jackanapes knocks pirates on the head!There be lazy dogs among my men that well deserve it. You shall stayaboard, Master Cockrell, whilst the juicy lubber of a lawyer voyagesinto Charles Town. He may sweat an' strive the more if I hold you as hissecurity. Zounds, I'll make a gentleman rover of ye, Jack, for I likeyour mettle. "

It was futile for the unhappy uncle to argue the matter. He could onlyobey the tyrant's pleasure and hope for a speedy return and the releaseof the terrified passengers. The _Plymouth Adventure_ was ordered tohaul her course to the westward and jog under easy sail toward theCharles Town bar. Blackbeard was rowed off to his own ship, the_Revenge_, leaving his sailing-master and a prize crew. These amusedthemselves by dragging the weeping women on deck and robbing them oftheir jewels and money, but no worse violence was offered. Middle-agedmatrons and elderly spinsters, they were neither young nor fair enoughto be stolen as pirates' brides. 

The _Revenge_ and the two sloops hovered within sight of the _PlymouthAdventure_ and their sails gleamed phantom-like in the darkness. Therewas little sleep aboard the captured merchant trader. Some of thepirates amused themselves with hauling chests and boxes out of thecabins and spilling the contents about the deck in riotous disorder. Onesprightly outlaw arrayed himself in a silken petticoat and floweredbodice and paraded as a languishing lady with false curls until theothers pelted him with broken bottles and tar buckets. By the flare oftorches they ransacked the ship for provisions, cordage, canvas, andheaped them ready to be dumped into boats. 

Jack Cockrell looked on until he was too drowsy to stay awake and fellasleep on deck, his head pillowed on his arm. Through the night thewatches were changed to the harsh summons of the pirate sailing-masteror his mate. Once Jack awoke when a seaman staggered into the moonlightwith blood running down his face. He was not likely to be caught nappingon watch again. 

At dawn the _Plymouth Adventure_ was astir and the _Revenge_ ran closeaboard to watch Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes and two prosperous merchantsof Charles Town bundled into the long-boat. Blackbeard shouted bloodythreats through his trumpet, reminding them that he would allow no morethan two days' grace for their errand ashore. Uncle Peter was deeplyaffected as he embraced his nephew and kissed him on the cheek. Jack'seyes were wet and he faltered, with unsteady voice:

"Forgive me, sir, for all the trouble I have made you. Never did Iexpect a parting like this. "

"A barbarous coast, Jack, and a hard road to old England, " smiled theSecretary of the Council. "Have a stout heart. By God's grace I shallsoon deliver you from these sea vermin. "

The boy watched the long-boat hoist sail with a grizzled, scarred oldboatswain from the _Revenge_ at the tiller. It drove for the bluefairway of the channel between the frothing shoals of the bar and madebrave headway for the harbor. Then the ships stood out to sea to goclear of a lee shore and the captives of the _Plymouth Adventure_endured the harrowing suspense with such courage as they could muster. Should any accident delay the return of the long-boat beyond two days, even head winds or foul weather, or if there was lack of medicines inthe town, they were doomed to perish. 

Jack Cockrell endured it with less anguish than the other wretchedhostages. He had the sublime confidence of youth in its own destiny andhe had found a chum in a boyish pirate named Joseph Hawkridge who saidhe had sailed out of London as an apprentice seaman in a ketch bound toJamaica. He had been taken out of his ship by Blackbeard, somewhere offthe Azores, and compelled to enlist or walk the plank. At first he wasmade cook's scullion but because he was well-grown and active, the chiefgunner had taken him over as a powder boy. 

This Joe Hawkridge was a waif of the London slums, hard and wise beyondhis years, who had been starved and abused ever since he could remember. He had fled from cruel taskmasters ashore to endure the slavery of thesea and to be kidnapped into piracy was no worse than other things hehad suffered. A gangling lad, with a grin on his homely face, he hadcertain instincts of manliness, of decent conduct, although he had knownonly men whose souls were black with sin. Heaven knows where he learnedthese cleaner aspirations. They were like the reflection of a star in amuddy pool. 

It was easy for Jack Cockrell to win his confidence. Few of hisshipmates spoke kindly or showed pity for him. And their youth drew themtogether. Jack's motive was largely curiosity as soon as he discoveredthat here was one of Blackbeard's crew ready to confide in him. The twolads chatted in sheltered corners of the deck, between watches, or metmore freely in the night hours. Jack shuddered at some of the tales thatwere told him but he harkened breathless and asked for more. 

"Yes, this Blackbeard is the very wickedest pirate that ever sailed, "said Joe Hawkridge in the most matter-of-fact tones. "You have found himmerciful because he fears a mortal sickness will sweep through hisships. "

"You have curdled my blood enough for now, " admitted Jack. "Tell methis. What do they say of Captain Stede Bonnet? He chances to be afriend of mine. "

Joe Hawkridge ceased to grin. He was startled and impressed. Realgentlemen like this young Cockrell always told the truth. Making certainthat they could not be overheard, Joe whispered:

"What news of Stede Bonnet? You've seen him? When? Did he cruise to thenorth'ard? Has he been seen off Charles Town?"

"He came ashore not long ago, and invited me to dinner at the tavernwith him, " bragged Jack. "And he coaxed me to sign in his ship. "

"Yes, you'd catch his eye, Cockrell, but listen! What ship had he, andhow many men? God strike me, but I'll not tattle it. I'm true as steelto Stede Bonnet. If you love me, don't breathe it here. "

"There is no love lost betwixt him and Blackbeard?" excitedly queriedJack. 

"Mortal foes they be, if you ask Stede Bonnet. "

Feeling sure he could trust this young Hawkridge, Jack informed him:

"Stede Bonnet flies his pennant in a fine brig, the _Royal James_, withseventy lusty rovers. But what about him, Joe? Why does he hate thisfoul ogre of a Blackbeard? Did they ever sail together?"

"'Twas in the Bay of Honduras. Captain Bonnet was a green hand at thetrade but zealous to win renown at piratin'. And so he made compact withBlackbeard, to sail as partners. There was Stede Bonnet with a fine shipand his own picked crew. By treachery Blackbeard stole the vessel fromhim. Bonnet and his men were left to shift for 'emselves in a rotten oldhulk that was like to founder in a breeze o' wind. "

"But they stayed afloat and took them a good ship, " proudly exclaimedJack, with a personal interest in the venture. 

"True, by what you say. D'ye see the _Revenge_ yonder, Blackbeard's tallcruiser? The very ship he filched from Stede Bonnet by dirty stratagemand broken oaths!"

"Then the powder will burn when next they meet?"

"As long as there's a shot in the locker, Jack. And Blackbeard's men areripe for mutiny. Let 'em once sight Stede Bonnet's topsails and----"

A gunner's mate broke into this interview with a cat-o'-nine-tails andflogged Joe Hawkridge forward to duty. He ducked and fled with afarewell grin at the nephew of the Secretary of the Council. Now allthis was diverting enough to keep Jack from bemoaning his fate, but theother passengers counted the hours one by one and their hearts began todrum against their ribs. They scanned the sea and the harbor bar withaching eyes, for the two days were well-nigh spent and there was never asign of the long-boat and the messengers with the ransom of medicineswhich should avert the sentence of death. 

Sunrise of the second day brought them no comfort. The sea was gray andthe sky leaden, without the slightest stir of wind. The drifting vesselsrolled in a swell that heaved as smooth as oil. It was a calm whichpresaged violent weather. Against her masts the yards of the _PlymouthAdventure_ banged with a sound like distant thunder and the idle canvasslatted to the thump of blocks and the thin wail of chafing cordage. 

Captain Jonathan Wellsby was permitted the freedom of the poop byBlackbeard's sailing-master who seemed a sober and competent officer. They were seen to confer earnestly, as though the safety of the shipwere uppermost in their minds. Soon the pirates of the prize crew wereordered to stow and secure all light sail and pass extra lashings aboutthe boats and batten the hatches. They worked slowly, some of themshaking with fever, nor could kicks and curses and the sting of thewhistling cat make them turn to smartly. The sailing-master signaled the_Revenge_ to send off more hands but Blackbeard was either drunk or inone of his crack-brained moods. With a laugh he pulled a brace ofpistols from his sash and blazed away at the _Plymouth Adventure. _

The two sloops of the pirate squadron had sagged down to leeward duringthe night and were trying to work back to their stations when the deadcalm intervened. Their skippers had sense enough to read the weathersigns and had begun to take in canvas. On board of the _Revenge_, however, there was aimless confusion, the mates making some attempt toprepare the ship for a heavy blow while Blackbeard defied the elements. His idea of arousing his men was to try potshots with his pistols asthey crept out on the swaying spars. 

It was quite apparent that the sailing-master was sorely needed in the_Revenge_, if order was to be brought out of this chaos, but he receivedno orders to quit the _Plymouth Adventure_. He was a proper seaman, NedRackham by name, who had deserted from the Royal Navy, after beingflogged and keel-hauled for some trifling offense. Rumor had it that hewas able to enforce respect from Blackbeard and would stand none of hisinfernal nonsense. 

"In this autumn season we may catch a storm from the West Indies, Mr. Rackham, " said Captain Wellsby. "The sea has a greasy look and thisheavy ground swell is a portent. "

"The feel of it is in the air, shipmaster. There fell an evil calm likethis come two year ago when I was wrecked in a ship-of-the-line withinsight of Havana. Four hundred men sank with her. "

"If my sailors were not penned in the fo'castle----" suggested themerchant skipper. 

"None o' that, " was the stern retort. "This ship is a prize toBlackbeard and so she stays, and you will sink or swim with her. "

The morning wore on and the two days of grace had passed for thosedoleful hostages in the _Plymouth Adventure_. They beheld the black flaghoisted to the rigging of the _Revenge_ as a signal of tragic import, but the bandy-legged monster with the festooned whiskers was not todisport himself with this wanton butchery. The sky had closed darklyaround the becalmed ships, in sodden clouds which were suddenly obscuredby mist and rain while the wind sighed in fitful gusts. It steadied intothe southward and swiftly increased in force until the sea was whippedinto foam and scud. 

Staunch and well-found, the _Plymouth Adventure_ went reeling off acrossthe spray-swept leagues of water, showing only her reefed topsails andcourses. The two pirate sloops vanished beyond the curtain of mist. Whenlast seen, one of them was dismasted and the other was laboring in graveperil. The _Revenge_ loomed as a spectral shape while Blackbeard wasendeavoring to get her running free in pursuit of the _PlymouthAdventure_. But slovenly, reckless seamanship had caught him unready. His sails were blowing to ribbons, ropes flying at loose ends, and itwas with great difficulty that the vessel could be made to mind hertiller. 

Already the sea was rising in crested combers which broke with the noiseof thunder and the fury of the wind was insensate. Slowly the struggling_Revenge_ dropped astern, yawing wildly, rolling her bulwarks under, splintered spars dangling from the caps. She was a crippled ship whichwould be lucky to see port again. It was to be inferred that Blackbeardhad ceased to cut his mirthful capers on the poop and that he would havegiven bushels of doubloons to regain his sailing-master and men. 

In the _Plymouth Adventure_ things were in far better plight, even withthe feeble, short-handed prize crew. Prudently snugged down in ampletime, with extra hands at the steering tackles, they let her drive. Shewould perhaps wear clear of the coast and there was hope of survivalunless the tempest should fairly wrench her strong timbers asunder. 

Lashed to the weather rigging, Captain Jonathan Wellsby wiped the brinefrom his eyes and waved his arm at the helmsman, now to ease her alittle, again to haul up and thus thwart some ravening sea whichthreatened to stamp his ship under. Sailing-Master Ned Rackham wascontent to let the skipper con his own vessel in this great emergency. 

The mind of Captain Wellsby was very active and he pondered on somethingelse than winning through the storm. He had been helpless while underthe guns of the _Revenge_, with the two sloops in easy call. Now thesituation was vastly different. He had been delivered out ofBlackbeard's clutches. And in the forecastle were thirty British seamenwith hearts of oak, raging to be loosed with weapons in their hands. Peering into the gray smother of sea and sky, Captain Jonathan Wellsbylicked his lips hungrily as he said to himself:

"Not now, but if the storm abates and we float through the night, theselousy picaroons shall dance to another tune. "

CHAPTER IV

THE CAPTIVE SEAMEN IN THE FORECASTLE

JACK COCKRELL was seasick. This was enough to spoil any adventure. Curled up under a boat, the spray pelted him and the wild motion of theship sloshed him back and forth. He took no interest even in piracy. JoeHawkridge, tough as whip-cord and seasoned to all kinds of weather, cameclawing his way aft while the water streamed from his thin shirt andragged breeches. The pirates of the prize crew had sought shelterwherever they could find it. The waist of the ship was flooded withbreaking seas. A few of the larboard watch were huddled forward, closeto the lofty forecastle where they were stationed as sentries over theimprisoned sailors of the _Plymouth Adventure_. 

The commotion of the wind shrieking in the rigging and the horrid crashof the toppling combers were enough to convince a landlubber that thevessel was doomed to founder. But Joe Hawkridge clapped young Jack anaffectionate clout on the ear and bawled at him:

 "For his work he's never loth, An' a-pleasurin' he'll go, Tho' certain sure to be popt off; _Yo, ho, with the rum below!_"

Jack managed to fetch a sickly smile of greeting, but had nothing tosay. Joe snuggled down beside him and explained:

"I wouldn't dare sing that song if Blackbeard's bullies could hear me. 'Tis known as Stede Bonnet's ditty, for a fight or a frolic. "

"By Harry, they can roll it out. My blood tingled when they chorused itthrough Charles Town, " said Jack, with signs of animation and a sparklein his eye. "Tell me truly, Joe. What about this pirate sailing-master, Ned Rackham? He seems a different sort from your other drunken wretches. He is more like one of Captain Bonnet's choosing. "

"Gulled you, has he?" cried Joe. "I was afeard of that. And he's gettingon the blind side of your skipper. This Cap'n Jonathan Wellsby is braveenough and a rare seaman, but he ne'er dealt with a smooth rogue likeNed Rackham. He stays sober to plot for his own advantage. He will serveBlackbeard only till he can trip him by the heels. Now listen well, Jack, seasick though ye be. You will have to warn your skipper, CaptainWellsby. "

"Warn him of what? My poor head is so addled that I can fathom no plots. How can Ned Rackham do us mischief while this infernal gale blows? Hetoils with might and main for the safety of the ship. "

"Yes, you dunce, and let a lull come, " scornfully exclaimed the boyishpirate. "What then? A fine ship this, and well gunned. She would make asmackin' cruiser for Ned Rackham, eh? He hoists the Jolly Roger on hisown account and laughs at Blackbeard. "

"Take our ship for his own?" faltered Jack, his wits confused. "I neverthought of that. Why, that means getting rid of us, of the passengersand crew. "

Joe passed a hand across his throat with a grimace that said more thanwords. 

"He has the ship's company disarmed and helpless, Jack. And piratesa-plenty to work her till he recruits a stronger force. All hands of 'emhave a surfeit of Blackbeard's bloody whims an' didoes. "

"And Captain Wellsby will be caught off his guard?" said Jack, shiveringat the aspect of this new terror. 

"Can he do aught to prevent, unless he is bold enough to forestall it?"answered the shrewd young sea waif. "Better die fighting than be slainlike squealin' rats. "

"Recapture the ship ere Ned Rackham casts the dice, " said Jack. "But itmeans playing the hazard in the midst of this storm. How can it be done?A forlorn venture. It can but fail. "

"You are as good as dead if you don't, " was Joe's sensible verdict. 

Jack Cockrell forgot his wretched qualms of mind and body. The trumpetcall of duty invigorated him. He was no longer a useless lump. The colorreturned to his cheek as he crawled from under the boat and shakilyhauled himself to his feet. Joe Hawkridge nodded approval and exhorted:

"A stiff upper lip, my gallant young gentleman. Steady she goes, an' nottoo hasty. Ned Rackham is as sharp as a whetted sword. Ware ye, boy, lest he pick up the scent. Fetch me word, here, beneath thisjolly-boat. "

Jack stole away, staggering along the high poop deck until he couldcling to the life-line stretched along the roof of the great cabin. There he slumped down and feigned helplessness, banged against thebulwark as a dripping heap of misery or kicked aside by the pirates ofthe watch as they were relieved at the steering tackles. Fromhalf-closed eyes he watched Ned Rackham, a vigilant, dominant figure ina tarred jacket and quilted breeches and long sea-boots. Now and againhe cupped his hands and yelled in the ear of Captain Wellsby whose beardwas gray with brine. 

Jack saw that it was hopeless to get a private word with the skipper ondeck. The clamor of the storm was too deafening. The one chance was tointercept him in the cabin when he went below for food and drink. Jackdragged himself to the after hatchway which was shoved open a trifle toadmit air, and squeezed himself through. Before he tumbled down thesteep staircase he turned to glance at Captain Wellsby. Unseen by NedRackham, the boy raised his hand in a furtive, beckoning gesture. 

The pirates had taken the main room of the after-house for their ownuse, driving the passengers and ship's officers into the small cabins orstaterooms. The air was foul below, reeking of the bilges, and the mainroom was incredibly filthy. The pirates ate from dirty dishes, they hadscattered food about, and they kicked off their boots to sleep on thefloor like pigs in a sty. 

Several of them were seated at the long table, bottle and mug in hand, and the gloomy place was poorly lighted by a swinging whale-oil lamp. Jack Cockrell crept unnoticed into a corner and was giddy and almosthelpless with nausea. It seemed ages before Captain Wellsby's legsappeared in the hatchway and he came down into the cabin, bringing ashower of spray with him. His kindly face was haggard and sad and hetottered from sheer weariness. Passing through to his own room, a scurvypirate hurled refuse food at him, with a silly laugh, and othersinsulted him with the foulest epithets. 

He paid them no heed and they returned to their own amusements. JackCockrell aroused himself to stumble after the skipper who halted tograsp the lad by the shoulder and shove him headlong into the littleroom. The door was quickly bolted behind them. A lurch of the vesselflung Jack into the bunk but he managed to sit up, holding his head inhis hands, while he feebly implored:

"Did you note me wave my hand, sir, when I came below?"

"Yes, and I followed as soon as I could, " answered the master of the_Plymouth Adventure_. "There was the hint of secrecy in your signal, Jack. What's in the wind?"

"I am the only passenger to win the confidence of one of Blackbeard'screw, " explained the lad. "This Joe Hawkridge is true to us, I'll swearit. He is a pressed man, hating his masters. He bids me tell you thatNed Rackham will seize the ship for his own as soon as ever the windgoes down. "

"Um-m, is he as bold as that?" grunted the skipper, rubbing his nosewith an air of rueful surprise. "No honor among thieves, Jack. I thoughthim loyal to Blackbeard. I have considered attempting something of myown when the weather permits but this news quickens me. This young impo' Satan that ye call Joe, --he will side with us in a pinch?"

"Aye, sir. And he knows this Ned Rackham well. There has been talk amongthe pirates of rising against Blackbeard to follow the fortunes ofSailing-Master Rackham. Here is the ship, as Joe says. "

"It has a plausible sound, " said Captain Wellsby. "My intention was towait, but I shall have to strike first. "

"Can we fight in this storm, sir, even if we manage to release oursailors?" asked Jack, very dismally. 

"Not what we can, but what we must do, " growled the stubborn Britishmariner. "The shame of striking my colors rankles like a wound. Godhelping me, we shall wipe out that stain if we drown in a sinking ship. I talk to you as a man, Master Cockrell, for such you have provenyourself. And who else is there to serve me in this adventure?"

"To set our sailors free, you mean, sir?" eagerly exclaimed Jack. "Itook thought of that. There is nobody but me, neither your mates nor thepassengers, who can pass among the pirates without suspicion. The knaveshave humored me, hearing the tale of the pirate I knocked on the headand my braggart remark to Blackbeard. They have seen me about the deckswith Joe Hawkridge as my boon comrade. 'Tis their fancy that I am likelyto enlist. "

"Well said, Jack, " was the skipper's compliment. "Yes, you might makeyour way for'ard without interference, --but the fo'castle hatches arestoutly guarded. Again, should my brave fellows find exit, they areweaponless, unready. Moreover, they have been crammed in that dark hole, drenched by the sea, cruelly bruised by the tossing of the ship, andweakened for lack of food and air. "

"Granted, sir, " sighed Jack. "But if some message could be smuggled into forewarn them of the enterprise, --would that brace 'em to theassault?"

"Will ye try it, Jack?" asked the skipper, with a note of appeal in hishearty voice. "I know not where else to turn. You take your life in yourhands but----"

The shipmaster broke off with a grim smile. It was absurd to prate oflife or death in such a strait as this. The boy reflected before hesaid:

"If--if I fail, sir, Joe Hawkridge will try to pass a message in to themen. You can depend on 't. "

"A last resort, Jack. You vouch for him but I trust you far sooner. Hehas kept sorry company. "

"When is the best hour, Captain Wellsby?"

"Just before nightfall when the watches will be changing. I dare notdelay it longer than that. In darkness, my lads will be unable to findthe foe and strike hard and quick. Nor can they rush to lay hold of theonly weapons in their reach, --the pikes in the racks beside the masts. Not a pistol or cutlass amongst 'em, and they must fight with thesewicked dogs of pirates who think naught of killing men. "

"Let your lusty sailors once get clear, sir, " stoutly declared JackCockrell, "and they will play a merry game with those long pikes. Then Iam to slip the message written by your hand on a bit of paper?"

"That's it! I will command them to pound against the scuttle, threeraps, for a signal of response, and you must listen for it. Then it isfor them to stand ready, on the chance that you can slip the bar of thehatch or the bolts on the door. "

"But if they have to come out singly, sir, and the sentries areready-witted, why, your men may be cut down or pistoled in theirtracks. "

"I am so aware, " said Captain Wellsby, his honest features glum, "but wecannot change the odds. "

He found an ink-horn and quill and laboriously wrote a few lines on aleaf torn from the back of a sea-stained log-book. Jack tucked itcarefully away and thus they parted company, perhaps to meet no more inlife. Through the waning afternoon, Jack stowed himself on deck and heldlong converse with Joe Hawkridge when they met between the keel-chocksof the jolly-boat. Because he shared not the skipper's feeling ofdistrust, Jack sought the active aid of his chum of a pirate lad. It wasagreed that they should endeavor to reach the forecastle together whenthe ship's bell tolled the hour of beginning the first night watch. 

Joe hoped he might decoy or divert the sentries. If not, he had anotherscheme or two. A gunner's mate of the prize crew had sent him tooverhaul the lashings of the battery of nine-pounders which were rangedalong the waist. With several other hands Joe had made all secure, because the guns were apt to get adrift in such weather as this andplunge to and fro across the deck like maddened beasts. Now JoeHawkridge had lingered, on pretext of making sure that one forward guncould be fired, if needs be, as a distress signal should the ship openher seams or strike upon a shoal. 

He had satisfied himself that the tompion, or wooden plug which sealedthe muzzle was tight, and that no water had leaked through the wrappingof tarred canvas which protected the touch-hole. Before replacing them, he had made two or three trips to the deck-house amidships in which wasthe carpenter's room. Each time he tucked inside his shirt as manyforged iron spikes, bolts, and what not as he could safely carry. 

Unobserved, he shoved this junk down the throat of the nine-pounder andwadded it fast with handfuls of oakum. He worked coolly, without haste, as agile as a monkey when the ship careened and the sea spurted throughthe cracks of the gun-ports. Well pleased with his task, he said tohimself, with that grin which no peril could obliterate:

"God alone knows how I can strike fire to a match and keep it alight, but the sky shows signs of easier weather. "

The fury of the storm had, indeed, diminished. It might be a respitebefore the wind hauled into another quarter and renewed its ferociousviolence, but the air was no longer thick with the whirling smother offoam and spray and the straining topmasts had ceased to bend like whips. The ship was gallantly easing herself of the waves which broke aboardand the rearing billows astern were not threatening to stamp her under. 

It lacked almost an hour of nightfall when Jack Cockrell crept along thepoop and halted to lean against the timbered railing by the mizzenshrouds. All he could think of was that Ned Rackham might seize uponthis sudden abatement of the gale to hasten his own wicked conspiracyand so ruin the plan to restore the _Plymouth Adventure_ to her ownlawful company. This menace had occurred to Captain Jonathan Wellsby whostood tense and rigid at the sailing-master's elbow, watching him fromthe tail of his eye. 

Relief o'erspread the skipper's worn features when he espied JackCockrell who stood as if waiting for orders. A nod, a meaning glance, and they understood each other. Striving to appear unconcerned, Jackmoved toward the forward part of the ship. He was aquiver withexcitement, and his breath was quick and small, but the sense of fearhad left him. Captain Wellsby had called him a man and, by God's sweetgrace, he would so acquit himself. 

The pirates were swarming out of the cabin to taste the clean air andlimber their cramped muscles. The ship still wallowed as she ran beforethe wind and it was breakneck work to clamber about. From the topsailyards fluttered mere ribbons of canvas where the reefed sails hadbellied. Ned Rackham shouted for the watch to lay aloft and cut theremnants clear and bend new cloths to keep her from broaching to. 

Jack Cockrell's heart leaped for joy. At least a dozen of the mostactive pirates would have to obey this order. This would remove themfrom the deck for a precious interval of time. He slouched aimlesslynearer the forecastle, stretching his neck to gaze up at the pirates asthey footed the ratlines and squirmed over the clumsy tops. JoeHawkridge joined him, as if by chance, and they wandered to the lee sideof the forecastle. There they were screened from the sight of thesentries. 

The wooden shutters of the little windows had been spiked fast on theoutside and Jack was at his wits' end to find by what means he mightslip the fateful message to the captive seamen. He dared not climb uponthe roof and seek for a crack in a hatchway. This would make him tooconspicuous. 

Cautiously he stole around the massive structure and was all but washedoverboard when he gained the windward side where the water broke inhissing cataracts. So great had been its force during the height of thestorm, that one of the shutters had been splintered and almost crushedin. Clutching the bit of paper which was tightly rolled and wrapped in asquare of oiled linen, Jack pushed it through a ragged crevice in theshutter. 

It was gravely doubtful whether the men would discover the message inthe gloom of their prison. It might fall to the floor and be trampledunperceived. And yet Jack Cockrell could not make himself believe thatdeliverance would be thwarted. He said a prayer and waited with his earagainst the wall of the forecastle. There he leaned through an agonizedeternity as the slow moments passed. It was like the ordeal of acondemned man who hopes that a blessed reprieve may save him, in thelast hour, from the black cap and the noose. 

Up aloft the pirate seamen were slashing the torn canvas with theirdirks and casting loose the gaskets. Presently they began to come downto the deck, one by one. Some whispered word must have passed amongstthem, because they drifted aft as by a common impulse although it wasnot yet the hour to change the watch. Their gunner's mate, a giganticmulatto with a broken nose, went to the poop when Ned Rackham crookedhis finger and these two stood aside, beyond earshot of Captain Wellsby, while they conferred with heads together. 

"They will strike first, " Jack whispered to himself. 

The misty daylight had not darkened. The decks were not yet dusky withthe shadows which Jack had hoped might enable him to approach theforecastle door in his brave endeavor to unbar it. The plans were allawry. Tears filled his eyes. And then there came to his ear a muffledknock against the other side of the forecastle planking. 

Once, twice, thrice! The signal was unmistakable. A little interval andit was repeated. 

Softly the trembling lad tiptoed to the corner of the forecastle houseand peered around it to look for the sentries. Two of them had moved afew yards away to join a group which gazed aft as if expecting asummons from Ned Rackham on the poop. The third sentry leaned againstthe forecastle door, a cutlass at his belt. He was a long, bony man witha face as yellow as parchment from the Spanish fever and it was plain toread that there was no great strength in him. 

Faithful Joe Hawkridge sat astride the breech of the nine-pounder atwhich he had been so busily engaged earlier in the afternoon. Heappeared to be an idler who merely looked on but he was watching everymotion, and that hard, canny face of his had, for once, forgot to grin. Releasing a three-foot handspike from its lashing beside thegun-carriage, he awaited the next roll of the deck and deftly kickedthis handy weapon. It slid toward the forecastle and Jack Cockrellstopped it with his foot. 

There was no time for hesitation. Snatching up the iron-shod handspike, Jack rushed straight at the forecastle door. Just then the ship lurchedfar down and he was shot headlong, like falling off the roof of a house. He had the momentum of a battering-ram. The sentry yelled and drew hiscutlass with a swiftness amazing in a sick man. His footing was unsteadyor Jack would have spitted himself on the point of the blade. As he wentcrashing full-tilt into the man the impact was terrific. They went tothe deck together and the handspike spun out of Jack's grasp. There wasno need to swing it on this luckless pirate for his bald head smote aplank with a thump which must have cracked it like an egg. 

Not even pausing to dart after the cutlass which had clattered from thelifeless fingers, Jack spun on his heel and wrenched at the heavy baracross the forecastle door and felt it slide from the fastenings. Hetugged it clear and swung himself up to the roof to draw the bolts whichsecured the hatch. Rusted in their sockets, they resisted him but hespied a pulley-block within reach and used it as a hammer. 

All this was a matter of seconds only. The pirates grouped amidships hadbeen waiting for Ned Rackham's word from aft and they were muddled bythis sudden shift of action. The other sentries stared in foolishastonishment. The brief delay was enough to let Jack Cockrell free thehatch. While he toiled furiously, several pistols and a musket weresnapped at him but the flint sparked on damp powder in the pans and onlyone ball whistled by his head. 

Out of the forecastle hatchway and through the door, the enraged sailorsof the _Plymouth Adventure_ came rocketing like an explosion. Theystumbled over each other, emerging head or feet first, blinking likeowls in the daylight but with vision good enough to serve their purpose. Their goal was the nearest stand of boarding-pikes at the foot of themainmast. 

But as they came surging on deck, they were not empty-handed. In theforecastle was a bricked oven for warmth in winter and for cookingkettles of soup. This they had torn to pieces and every man salliedforth with a square, flat brick in each hand and more inside his shirt. Those who were first to gain the deck pelted the nearest pirates withthese ugly missiles. The air was full of hurtling bricks and theearliest casualty was a stout buccaneer who stopped one with hisstomach. 

Driven back in yelling confusion, the pirates found their firearmsalmost useless, so drenched had the whole ship been by the batteringseas, but they were accustomed to fighting it out with the cold steeland they were by no means a panicky mob. The fusillade of bricks heldthem long enough for the merchant sailors to escape from the forecastleand this was an advantage more precious than Captain Wellsby had hopedfor. 

What the pirates required was a leader to rally them for attack. Quickerthan it takes to tell it, Ned Rackham had raced along the poop andleaped to the waist at peril of breaking his neck. Agile, quick-witted, he bounded into the thick of it, cutlass in hand, while he shouted:

"At 'em, lads! And give the dogs no quarter!"

With hoarse outcry, his gallows-birds mustered compactly while those whohad been in the cabin came scampering to join them. Curiously enough, Captain Jonathan Wellsby had been forgotten. He was left alone to handlethe ship while the pirate helmsmen stood by the great tiller. To forsakeit meant to let the vessel run wild and perhaps turn turtle in theswollen seas. And so the doughty skipper was, for the time, a looker-on. 

And now with Ned Rackham in the van, it seemed that the British sailorswere in a parlous plight and that their sortie must fail. Craftily thepirates manoeuvered to drive them back into the forecastle and thereto butcher them like sheep. 

CHAPTER V

RELEASING A FEARFUL WEAPON

JACK COCKRELL sprawled flat upon the forecastle roof and knew not whatto do. He could lay hands on nothing to serve as a weapon and he badefair to be trapped like the sailors whose cause he had joined. With afeeling of despair he let his gaze rove to the scrawny figure of JoeHawkridge who still bestrode the nine-pounder and took no part in thefray. But Joe had no comfort for him, as a gesture conveyed. It had beenJoe's wild scheme to obtain the help of Jack and Captain Wellsby, at theleast, and so cast loose the gun and slew it around to rake the deck andmow the pirates down. But the men were lacking for this heavy task, andthe sailors of the _Plymouth Adventure_ were too intent on fightingagainst fearful odds to pay heed to Joe Hawkridge's appeals. He had evenskulked into the galley and was ready with a little iron pot filled withlive coals which was hidden under a bit of tarpaulin. 

Ned Rackham was a young man and powerful, with a long reach and askilled blade. He fairly hewed his way into the ruck of the dauntlesssailors who had no more bricks to hurl. Several pirates were disabled, with broken arms or bloody crowns, but the others crowded forward, grunting as they slashed and stabbed, and well aware that Ned Rackhamwould cut the laggards down should he detect them. 

At the moment when there seemed no chance of salvation for the crew ofthe _Plymouth Adventure_, Joe Hawkridge leaped from the gun and beckonedJack. The grin was restored to the homely, freckled visage and the saltwater gamin danced in jubilant excitement. Down from the forecastle rooftumbled Jack Cockrell and went sliding across the deck, heels over head, to fetch up in the scupper. Joe hauled him by the leg, close to thewooden carriage of the gun, and swiftly told him what was to be done. 

Obediently Jack began to loose the knots which secured the rope tacklesbut it was a slow task. The wet had made the hemp as hard as iron and helacked a marlinspike. Joe dodged around the gun, saw the difficulty andsawed through one rope after another, all but the last strand or two. Then the lads tailed on to the breeching hawsers, which held thecarriage from sliding on its iron rollers, and eased the strain as wellas they could. 

The ponderous mass was almost free to plunge across the deck. Joesweated and braced his feet against a ring-bolt while Jack Cockrellfound a cleat. Ned Rackham's men were moving forward, cut and thrust, while the sailors grappled with them bare-handed and battled grimlylike mastiffs. 

"The next time she rolls!" panted Joe Hawkridge as the hawser ripped theskin from his palms. 

"Aye, make ready to cut, " muttered Jack. 

The ship heaved herself high and then listed far down to starboard. Joeslashed at the last strands of the tackles and yelled to Jack to let gothe hawser. Instead of discharging the nine-pounder, they were employingthe piece itself, and the carriage of oak and iron, as a terriblemissile. The moment of launching it was shrewdly chosen. The pirates, still in compact formation as led by Ned Rackham, were directly abreastof this forward gun of the main deck battery. The deck inclined at asteep and giddy pitch. With a grinding roar the gun rolled from itsstation. It gathered impetus and lunged across the ship as an instrumentof fell destruction. It was more to be feared than an assault of armedmen. 

The warning rumble of the iron wheels as they furrowed the planking washeard by the pirates. They turned from their game of butchery and stoodfrozen in their tracks for a frightened instant. Then they tried to fleein all directions. Their tarry pigtails fairly stood on end. Well theyknew what it meant to have a gun break adrift in a heavy sea. Two orthree who had been badly hurt were unable to move fast enough. The guncrunched over them and then seemed to pursue a limping pirate, veeringto overtake him as he fled. He was tossed against the bulwark like abundle of bloody rags. 

The gun crashed into the stout timbers of the ship's side and they weresplintered like match-wood. It rebounded as the deck sloped sharply inthe next wallowing roll, and now this frenzied monster of wood and ironseemed fairly to run amuck. It was inspired with a sinisterintelligence, resolved to wreak all the damage possible. The pinnace, the water barrels, the coamings of the cargo hatches, were smashed tofragments as the gun turned this way and that and went plunging insearch of victims. 

[Illustration: THE BRAWN OF THESE LADS MADE THE PIKE A MATCH FOR APIRATE'S CUTLASS]

Left to themselves, the seamen of the _Plymouth Adventure_ would haverisked their lives to cast ropes about the gun and moor it fast. But nowthey were quick to see that the tide had been turned in their favor. Thepirates were demoralized. Some were in the rigging, others atop thebulwarks, and only the readiest and boldest, with Ned Rackham in thelead, had an eye to the task in hand, which was to regain possession ofthe ship. 

And now the boatswain of the _Plymouth Adventure_, a rosy giant of a manfrom South Devon, shouted to his comrades to follow him. They delayeduntil the runaway cannon crashed into another gun, and then they brokelike sprinters from the mark and sped straight for the mainmast, seekingthe rack of boarding-pikes. They ran nimbly, as men used to swayingdecks, and compassed the distance in a few strides. 

Ned Rackham perceived their purpose and tried to intercept but his fewstaunch followers moved warily, expecting to see that insensate monsterof a gun bear down upon them. The swiftest of the merchant sailors laidhands on the pikes and whirled to cover their shipmates, until all handscould be armed. Then the gun came roaring down at them but they duckedbehind the mast or stepped watchfully aside. Men condemned to death arenot apt to lose their wits in the face of one more peril. 

These pikes were ashen shafts with long steel points and the merchantseamen had been trained to use them. And the brawn of these lads madethe pike a match for a pirate's cutlass. Ned Rackham bounded forward toswing at the broad, deep-chested boatswain. A wondrous pair ofantagonists they were, in the prime of their youth and vigor. Thepirate's cutlass bit clean through the pike shaft as the boatswainparried the blow but the apple-cheeked Devonshire man closed in andwrapped his arms around his foe. They went to the deck clutching foreach other's throats and the fight trampled over them. 

Meanwhile Joe Hawkridge and Jack Cockrell, unwilling to twiddle theirthumbs, had rushed aft as fast as their legs could carry them. It was amutual impulse, to release such of the men passengers as might have astomach for fighting and also the ship's officers. Into the doorwaywhich led from the waist, the two lads dived and scurried through themain cabin now clear of pirates. Locked doors they smashed with abroadaxe found in the small-arms chest and so entered all the rooms. 

The women passengers were almost dead with suffering, what with theturbulence of the storm and the wild riot on deck. The lads pitied thembut had no time to console. Several of the men, merchants and plantersof some physical hardihood, begged for weapons and Joe Hawkridge badethem help themselves from the spare arms which the pirates had left inthe great cabin. In another little room the boys found the mates, steward, surgeon, and gunner of the _Plymouth Adventure_ and you may besure that they came boiling out with a raging thirst for strife. 

"Harkee, Jack, " said Joe before they climbed to the poop deck, "if thepirates are driven aft, as I expect, they will make a last stand in thiscabin house which is like a fort. These 'fenseless women must be hiddensafe from harm. Do you coax 'em into the lazarette. "

This was a room on the deck below, in the very stern of the ship wherewere kept the extra sails and coils of rope and various stores. It wasthe surest shelter against harm in such stress as this. Alas, Jack'spersuasions were vain. The frantic women were in no humor to listen, andso the lads bundled them through the hatch as gently as possible andfor company gave them such male passengers as lacked strength or courageto join the battle. 

While they were thus engaged, two pirates came flying down the ladderfrom the poop deck into the main cabin. They revolved like windmills ina jumble of arms and legs. Close behind them, in a manner more orderlycame Captain Jonathan Wellsby who had tossed the one and tremendouslybooted the other. They were the helmsmen whom he had replaced with hisown officers at the steering tackles, while his first mate had been leftin charge of handling the ship. 

The skipper was now free to follow his own desires and he fell uponthose two stunned pirates in the cabin and trussed them tight with bitsof rope. Then he reloaded with dry powder all the pistols he could findand made a walking arsenal of himself. The two lads who now joined himneeded no word of command. At his heels they made for the main deck andthe shout which arose from those British sailors, so sorely beset, wasmightily heartening. 

Blazing away with his pistols, the skipper cleared a path for himself, the pirates being taken aback when they were attacked in the rear. Andthey were leaderless, for Ned Rackham had been dragged aside with themarks of the boatswain's fingers on his throat and a sheath-knife buriedin his side. He was alive but nobody paid heed to his groans. 

With the skipper in the thick of it, there was no danger of being pennedin the forecastle again. The pirates were crowded aft, step by step, before the play of those wicked boarding-pikes. It would be hard tomatch a sea fight like this, amid the spray and the washing seas, on adeck that tipsily danced and staggered, with a truant gun smashing agood ship to bits and the wounded screaming as they saw this horrorthundering at them. Captain Wellsby's men were at pains to drag theirhelpless comrades to safety but the pirates were too callous and toohard pressed to care for aught save their own worthless skins. Theyfought like wolves but they lacked the gristle and endurance of thestalwart sailors. Wheezing for breath, they ceased to curse and reeledback in silence while the sailors huzzaed and seemed to wax the lustier. 

As was bound to happen, the stubborn retreat broke into a rout. It wasevery man for himself and the devil take the hindmost. The pirates fledfor the after cabin-house, there to take cover behind the timbered wallsand use the small port-holes for musketry fire. Thus they could findrespite and it would be immensely difficult to dislodge them. 

The first mate of the _Plymouth Adventure_ and his own two helmsmen sawwhat was taking place and they were of no mind to be cut off at thestern of the ship. They footed it along the poop and the cabin roof asthe pirates were scampering inside and so gained the waist and werewith their comrades. The tiller deserted, the vessel careened into thetrough of the sea with a portentous creaking of spars and rending ofcanvas. 

The mainmast had been dealt more than one splintering blow by thefugitive gun. This sudden strain, of a ship broached to and hurledalmost on her beam ends, was too much for the damaged mast. It brokeshort off, a few feet above the deck, and the ragged butt ripped theplanks asunder as it was dragged overside by the weight of the toweringfabric of yards and canvas. One merciful circumstance befell, for thetangle of shrouds and sheets and halliards ensnared the ramping monsterof a cannon and overturned it. Caught in this manner, the gun wasdragged to the broken bulwark and there it was held with the batteredcarriage in air. 

The mainmast was floating alongside the ship which it belabored withthumps that jarred the hull. It was likely to stave in the skin of thevessel and Captain Wellsby shouted to his men to hack at the trailingcordage and send the mast clear before it did a fatal injury. A dozenmen risked drowning at this task while the others guarded the aftercabin lest the pirates attempt a sally. These besieged rogues were givenan interval in which to muster their force, organize a defense, andbreak into the magazine for muskets and powder and ball. 

Now Captain Wellsby was no dullard and he purposed to make short work ofthese vile pirates. Otherwise his crippled ship might not survive thewind and weather. He conferred with his gunner who had bethoughthimself, by force of habit, to fetch from aft his powder-horn andseveral yards of match, or twisted tow, which were wrapped around hisbody, beneath the tarred jerkin. 

"It grieves me sore to wreck yonder goodly cabin house, " said theskipper in his beard, "but, by Judas, we'll blow 'em out of it. Haul andbelay your pieces, Master Gunner, and let 'em have a salvo of roundshot. "

Reckless of the musket balls which began to fly among them, the sailorsjumped for their stations at the guns. First they set aright thatcapsized nine-pounder which had wreaked so much mischief and found thatit could be discharged, despite the broken carriage. Joe Hawkridge andJack Cockrell blithely aided to swing and secure it with emergencytackles and Joe exclaimed, with a chuckle:

"This dose is enough to surprise Blackbeard hisself. 'Tis anironmonger's shop I rammed down its throat. "

The gun was laid on the largest cabin port-hole just as it framed theugly face of a pirate with a musket while another peered over hisshoulder. Joe shook the powder-horn into the touch-hole and the gunnerwas ready with the match which he had lighted with his own flint andsteel. Boom, and the gun recoiled in a veil of smoke. Through the cabinport-hole flew a deadly shower of spikes and bolts while the frameworkaround it was shattered to bits. It was a most unhealthy place forpirates. They forsook it instantly. And the musketry fire slackenedelsewhere. It was to be inferred that there was painful consternation inthe cabin. 

With boisterous mirth, the sailors deftly turned other guns to bear andwere careful not to let them get adrift. The muzzles had been wellstopped against wetting by the sea and with a little dry powder for thepriming, most of them could be served. They could not be reloaded fordearth of ammunition but Captain Wellsby felt confident that one roundwould suffice. 

Methodically the gun-crews aimed and fired one gun after another, watching the chance between the seas that broke aboard. The solid roundshot, at short range, ripped through the cabin walls and bulkheads andburied themselves in the frames and timbers of the ship's stern. A goodgunner was never so happy as when he saw the white splinters fly inshowers and these zealous sailormen forgot they were knocking their ownship to pieces. They were on the target, and this was good enough. 

The beleaguered pirates made no more pretense of firing muskets ordefying the crew to dig them out. Their fort was an untenable position. At this sport of playing bowls with round shot they were bound to lose. Captain Wellsby sighted the last gun himself. It was a bronze culverinof large bore, taken as a trophy from the stranded wreck of a Spanishgalleon. With a tremendous blast this formidable cannon spat out adouble-shotted load and the supports of the cabin roof were tornasunder. The tottering beams collapsed. Half the structure fell in. 

It was the signal for the sailors of the _Plymouth Adventure_ to chargeaft and finish the business. They found pirates crawling from under thewreckage. It was like a demolished ant-heap. In the smaller cabins andother rooms far aft, which were more or less intact, some of the rascalsshowed fight but they were remorselessly prodded out with pikes andthose unwounded were hustled forward to be thrown into the forecastle. It was difficult to restrain the seamen from dealing them the death theydeserved but Captain Wellsby was no sea-butcher and he hoped to turnthem over to the colonial authorities to be hanged with due ceremony. 

The badly hurt were laid in the forecastle bunks where the ship'ssurgeon washed and bandaged them after he had cared for the injured menof his own crew. Ned Rackham was still alive, conscious and defiant, surviving a wound which would have been mortal in most cases. Whether helived or died was a matter of small concern to Captain Wellsby but heordered the surgeon to nurse him with special care. 

The dead pirates were flung overboard but the bodies of seven braveBritish seamen were wrapped in sailcloth to be committed to the deep onthe morrow, with a round shot at their feet and a prayer to speed theirsouls. There were men enough to work the ship but she was in asituation indescribably forlorn. It was possible to patch and shore thecabin house and make a refuge, even to find place for the wretched womenwho were lifted unharmed out of the lazarette. But the stout ship, hermainmast gone by the board, the deck ravaged by that infernal catapultof an errant gun, the hull pounded by the floating wreckage of spars, would achieve a miracle should she see port again. 

The combat with the pirates and their overthrow had been waged in thelast hour before the gray night closed over a somber sea. God's mercyhad caused the wind to fall and the waves to diminish in size else theship would have gone to the bottom ere dawn. Much water had washed downinto the hold through the broken cargo hatch and the gaps where therunaway gun had torn other fittings away. The carpenter sounded the welland solemnly stared at the wetted rod by the flicker of his hornlantern. The ship was settling. It was his doleful surmise that sheleaked where the pounding spars overside had started the butts. It wasman the pumps to keep the old hooker afloat and Captain Wellsby orderedhis weary men to sway at the brakes, watch and watch. 

Joe Hawkridge and Jack Cockrell, more fit for duty than the others, puttheir backs into it right heartily while the sailors droned to thecadence of the pump a sentimental ditty which ran on for any number ofverses and began in this wise:

 "As, lately I traveled toward Gravesend, I heard a fair Damosel a Sea-man commend: And as in a Tilt-boat we passed along, In praise of brave Sea-men she sung this new Song, _Come Tradesman or Marchant, whoever he be, There's none but a Sea-man shall marry with me!_"

Thus they labored all the night through, men near dead with fatiguewhose hard fate it was to contend now with pirates and again with thehostile ocean. The skipper managed to stay the foremast and to bendsteering sails so that the ship was brought into the wind where hermotion was easier. The sky cleared before daybreak and the rosy horizonproclaimed a fair sunrise. How far and in what direction the _PlymouthAdventure_ had been blown by the storm was largely guesswork. By meansof dead reckoning and the compass and cross-staff, Captain Wellsby hopedto work out a position but meanwhile he scanned the sea with a sense ofbrooding anxiety. 

Instead of praying for plenty of sea room, he now hoped with all hisheart that the vessel had been set in toward the coast. She was sinkingunder his feet and would not live through the day. It was useless totoil at the pumps or to strive at mending the shattered upperworks. Themen turned to the task of quitting the ship, and of saving the souls onboard. It was a pitiful extremity and yet they displayed a dogged, unshaken fidelity. Only one boat had escaped destruction. The pinnacehad been staved in by the thunderbolt of a gun and the yawl, stowed uponthe cabin roof, was wrecked by round shot. The small jolly-boat wouldhold the women passengers and the wounded sailors, with the handsrequired to tend oars and sail. 

Nothing remained but to try to knock together one or more rafts. CaptainWellsby discussed it with his officers and it was agreed that theable-bodied pirates should be left to build a raft for themselves, taking their own wounded with them. This was more mercy than they hadany right to expect. The strapping young Devonshire boatswain, with hishead tied up, was for leaving the blackguards to drown in the forecastlebut the shipmaster was too humane a man for that. 

It was drawing toward noon when the first mate descried land to thewestward, a bit of low coast almost level with the sea. In the light airthe sluggish ship moved ever so slowly, with canvas spread on the foreand mizzen masts. Spirits revived and life tasted passing sweet. Todrift in the open sea upon wave-washed rafts was an expedient which allmariners shuddered to contemplate. It was with feelings far differentthat they now assembled spars and planks and lashed and spiked themtogether on the chance of needing rafts to ferry them ashore from astranded ship. 

Well into the bright afternoon the _Plymouth Adventure_ was waftednearer and nearer the sandy coast. Within a half mile of it a line ofbreakers frothed and tumbled on a shoal beyond which the water deepenedagain. The ship could not be steered to avoid this barrier. Her maindeck was almost level with the sea which lapped her gently and sobbedthrough the broken bulwarks. With a slight shock she struck the shoaland rested there just before she was ready to founder. 

With disciplined haste, the jolly-boat was launched and filled with itshuman freightage. The boatswain went in charge and four seamen tugged atthe sweeps. There were trees and clumps of bushes among the hillocks ofsand and a tiny bight for a landing place. The bulwark was then choppedaway so that the largest raft could be shoved into the water by means oftackles, rollers and handspikes. It floated buoyantly and supported asmany as fifteen men, who did not mind in the least getting their feetwet. Upon a raised platform in the centre of the raft were fastenedbarrels of beef and bread and casks of fresh water. 

The jolly-boat could hope to make other trips between the ship and theshore but the prudent skipper took no chances with the weather. A suddengale might pluck the _Plymouth Adventure_ from the shoal or tear her tofragments where she lay. Therefore most of the men, includingpassengers, were embarked on the raft. Captain Wellsby remained aboardwith a few of his sailors and our two lads, Joe and Jack, who had notattempted to thrust themselves upon the crowded raft. 

The pirates were making a commotion in the forecastle, yammering to befreed, but the skipper had no intention of loosing them until all hispeople had safely abandoned ship. The jolly-boat made a landing withoutmishap and returned to the wreck as the sun went down. More stores weredumped into it, sacks of potatoes and onions which had been overlooked, bedding for the women, powder and ball for the muskets, and other thingswhich it was necessary to keep dry. 

Captain Wellsby got rid of the rest of his men on this trip, exceptingthe gunner and carpenter, and these lingered with him as a kind ofbody-guard pending the ticklish business of releasing the imprisonedpirates and forsaking them to their own devices. The jolly-boat wasladen to the gunwales and Jack Cockrell held back, saying to JoeHawkridge:

"Why trouble the captain to set us ashore? Let us make a raft of ourown. The breeze holds fair to the beach and it will be a lark. "

"It suits me well, " grinned Joe. "If we wait to go off with the master, and those sinful pirates see me aboard, I'll need wings to escape 'em. They saw me serve the gun that was filled with spikes to the muzzle. Aye, Jack, I will feel happier to be elsewhere when Cap'n Wellsby unbarsthe fo'castle and holds 'em back with his pistols till he can cast offin the jolly-boat. "

"Yes, the sight of you is apt to put them in a vile temper, " laughinglyagreed Jack, "and 'tis awkward for the master to bother with us. Nowabout a little raft----"

"Two short spars are enough. There they lie. And the cabin hatch will dofor a deck. Spikes for thole-pins, and oars from the pinnace. Unlace thebonnet of the jib for a sail. "

"You are a proper sailorman, Joe. A voyage by starlight to an unknowncoast. 'Tis highly romantic. "

They set to work without delay. Captain Wellsby had occupations of hisown and no more than glanced at them in passing. Jack insisted oncarrying a water breaker and rations, he being hungry and too busy topause for supper. They would make a picnic cruise of the adventure. Handily Joe reeved a purchase and they hauled away until their raft slidoff the sloping deck to leeward. With a gay hurrah to Captain Wellsby, they paddled around the stern of the ship and through the ruffle of surfthat marked the shoal. 

In the soft twilight they trimmed the sail and swung at the clumsy oars, while a fire blazing on the beach was a beacon to guide their course. After a time they rested and wiped the sweat from their faces. Theprogress of the raft was like that of a lazy snail. In the luminousdarkness they pulled with all their strength. The wind had died to acalm. The sail hung idle from its yard. They heard, faint and afar, thedeep voices of the sailors in the jolly-boat as they returned to takethe skipper and his two companions from the ship on which a lightburned. 

The lads shouted but there came no answering hail from the unseen boat. They were perplexed to understand how their courses could be so farapart. Presently the night breeze drew off the land, bringing with itthe scent of green things growing. Joe Hawkridge stared at the fire onthe beach and then turned to look at the spark of light on the ship. Theraft had drifted considerably to the southward. Anxiously Joe said tohis shipmate:

"The flood o' the tide must be setting us down the coast, in some crazycurrent or other. Mayhap it runs strong through this race betwixt theshoal and the beach with a slant that's bad for us. "

"I noted it, " glumly agreed Jack. "The jolly-boat passed too far away toplease me. And this landward breeze is driving us to sea. "

"No sense in breaking our backs at these oars, " grumbled Joe. "We goahead like a crab, with a sternboard. Think ye we can swing the raft tofetch the ship?"

"After Captain Wellsby turns the pirates loose and quits her?" scoffedJack. 

"I am a plaguey fool, " cheerfully admitted Joe Hawkridge. "'Twould beout of the frying-pan into the fire, with a vengeance. "

"And no way to signal our friends, " sadly exclaimed Jack. "We forgotflint and steel. It looks much like another voyage. "

"Straight for the open sea, my bully boy, " agreed Joe. "And I'd as soonchance it on a hen-coop. "

CHAPTER VI

THE VOYAGE OF THE LITTLE RAFT

THESE sturdy youngsters were not easily frightened, and Jack Cockrell, the landsman, was confident that wind and tide would change to send thelittle raft shoreward. So tranquil was the sea that they rode secure anddry upon the cabin hatch which was buoyed by the two short spars. JoeHawkridge was silent with foreboding of a fate more bitter than theperils which they had escaped. He had seen a lone survivor of a crew ofpirates picked off a raft in the Caribbean, a grisly phantom raving madwho had gnawed the flesh of his dead comrades. 

They drifted quietly before the land breeze, beneath a sky all jeweledwith bright stars. The fire on the beach dimmed to a red spark and thenvanished from their wistful ken. They could no longer see the light onthe wreck of the _Plymouth Adventure_. Now and then the boys struggledwith the heavy oars and rowed until exhausted but they knew they couldbe making no headway against the current which had gripped the derelictraft. They ate sparingly of flinty biscuit and leathery beef pickled inbrine and stinted themselves to a few swallows of water from the woodenbreaker or tiny cask. 

"Hunger and thirst are strange to ye, Jack, " said young Hawkridge asthey lay stretched side by side. "Hanged if I ever did get enough to eattill I boarded the _Plymouth Adventure_. Skin and bone I am. I'll notcall this a bad cruise unless we have to chew our boot-tops. A peskydiet is leather. I've tried it. "

"Truly, Joe?" cried Jack in lugubrious accents. "We may have more heartwhen morning comes. A piping easterly breeze, such as is wont to come upwith the sun in Charles Town, and we can steer for the coast all tautand cheery. "

"I dread the sun, Jack. For men adrift the blaze of it fries them likefish on a grid. A pint of water a day, no more, is the allowance. 'Twilltorture you, but castaways can live on it. They have done it for weekson end. Here's two musket balls in my pocket. I can whittle a balancefrom a bit of pine and we must weigh the bread and meat. "

"Two musket balls' weight of food for a meal?" protested Jack. 

"Not a morsel more, " was the grim answer. "Granted we be not washed offthis silly raft and drowned when a fresh breeze kicks up the sea, we mayhold body and soul together through five or six days. "

"But some vessel will sight us, Joe, even if the plight is as dark asyour melancholy fancies paint it. And I thought you a light-heartedmariner in danger. "

"The sea is a cruel master and she hath taught me prudence, " was thereply. "A vessel sight us? I fear an empty sea so soon after the storm. And honest ships will be loth to venture out from port if the word spedthat Blackbeard was cruising off Charles Town bar. "

Jack Cockrell forsook the attempt to wring comfort out of his hardycompanion who refused to delude himself with vain imaginings. However, it is the blessed gift of youth to keep the torch of hope unquenched andpresently they diverted themselves with chatting of their earlieradventures. Jack was minded of his pompous, stout-hearted uncle, Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, and wondered how he had fared, whether he hadset out to return to Blackbeard's ship with the store of medicines fromCharles Town when the great storm swooped down. Forgotten were Jack'shot grievances against the worthy Secretary of the Council who hadsought to take a father's place. Piracy had lost its charm for youngMaster Cockrell and meekly would he have obeyed the mandate to go toschool in merry England among sober, Christian folk. 

"Tremendous odd, I call it, " exclaimed Joe Hawkridge. "Here I was apirate and hating the dirty business. And my dreams were all of learnin'to be a gentleman ashore, to know how to read books and such. Blow me, Jack, we should ha' swapped berths. "

"If my good uncle is alive I mean to commend you to his kindness, "exclaimed Jack. "We must cleave together, and you shall have a skinfulof books and school and manners. "

This pleased the young sea rover beyond measure and he diverted himselfwith pictures of a cleaner, kindlier world than he had ever known. Inthe small hours of the night, the twain drowsed upon their frailplatform which floated as a speck on the shrouded ocean. The wavessplashed over the spars as the breeze grew livelier and the piteousvoyagers were sopping wet but the water was not chill and they sleptthrough this discomfort. 

Jack Cockrell dreamed of walking in a green lane of Charles Town withlovely Dorothy Stuart. A wave slapped his face and he awoke with asputtering cry of bewilderment. The eastern sky was rosy and the seashimmered in the eternal beauty of a new day. Joe Hawkridge sat huddledagainst the mast, chin and knees together, his sharp eyes scanning thehorizon. With a grin he exclaimed:

"The watch ahoy! Rouse out, shipmate, and show a leg! Turn to cheerly!Holystone decks and wash down, ye lazy lubber. "

Jack groaned and scowled as he rolled over to ease his aching bones. Hewas in no mood for jesting. There was no land in sight nor the gleam ofa sail, naught but the empty waste of the Atlantic, and the wind stillheld westerly. 

"Let's have the beggarly morsel you miscall breakfast, Joe, and a swigfrom the breaker. Are we bound across the main?"

"Straight for London River, and the school you prate about, my bucko, "replied the scamp of a pirate. "Haul away on your belt and set thebuckle tighter. 'Twill ease the cursed hunger pain that gnaws like arat. "

They munched the pittance of salty food which made the thirst the harderto endure, and then watched the sun climb hot and dazzling. It wasfutile to hoist the sail and so they pulled the canvas over them as theheat became more intense. By noon, Jack was begging for water to lavehis tongue but Joe Hawkridge laughed him to scorn and swore to hit himwith an oar unless he changed his tune. Never in his life had Jack knownthe lack of food or drink and he therefore suffered cruelly. 

Worse than this privation was the increasing roughness of the sea. Itwas a blithesome wind, rollicking across a sparkling carpet of blue, with the little white clouds in flocks above, like lambs at play. Butthe raft was more and more tossed about and the waves gushed over itlike foam on a reef. Through the day the castaways might cling to it butthey dreaded another night in which their weary bodies could notpossibly ward off sleep. Even though they tied themselves fast, what ifthe raft should be capsized by the heave of the mounting swell? It wasthe merest makeshift, scrambled together in haste as a ferry from thewreck of the _Plymouth Adventure_. 

No longer did Jack Cockrell bemoan his situation. Taking pattern fromhis comrade in misery, he set his teeth to await the end as became atrue man of gentle blood. After all, drowning was easier than the slowtorments of hunger and thirst. 

Every little while one of them crawled from under the canvas to look fora ship. It was the vigilant Joe Hawkridge who, at length, discoveredwhat was very like a fleck of cloud on the ocean's rim, to thesouthward. Afraid that his vision tricked him, he displayed no emotionbut held himself as steady as any stoic. Jack was wildly excited, blubbering and waving his arms about. His hard-won composure was brokento bits. But even though it were a ship, Joe well knew it might passafar off and so miss sighting this bit of raft which drifted almostsubmerged. 

Slowly the semblance of a wandering fragment of cloud climbed the curveof the watery globe until Joe Hawkridge perceived, with a mariner's eye, that it was, indeed, a vessel steering in their direction. 

"Two masts!" said he, "and to'gallant-sails set to profit by this bravebreeze. A brig, Jack! Had she been a ship, my heart 'ud ha' been in mythroat. Blackbeard's _Revenge_ might be working up the coast, did shelive through the storm. "

"A brig?" joyfully cried Jack. "Ah, ha, I see her two masts plainly, with mine own eyes. And they soar too tall for a merchant trader. Hersails, too, --she spreads them like great wings. Who else will it be thanCaptain Stede Bonnet in the _Royal James?_"

"A shift of luck is due us, by the bones of Saint Iago, " shouted Joe, ina thrill of glad anticipation. "Watch her closely. You saw the brig inCharles Town harbor. Bless God, this may well be Cap'n Stede Bonnetyonder, an' perchance he cruises in search of Blackbeard to squareaccounts with that vile traitor that so misused him. "

"A sworn friend of mine is Stede Bonnet, " proudly declared JackCockrell, "and pledged to bear a hand when I am in distress. He willland us safe in Charles Town, Joe, --unless, --unless we choose to goa-piratin' with him in the _Royal James_----"

Jack's voice trailed off in tones of indecision so comical that hiscomrade cried:

"Not cured yet, you big numbskull? 'Cause this fine Cap'n Bonnet is agentleman pirate? His neck will stretch with the rest of 'em when thelaw overtakes him. Thirteen burly lads I saw swinging in a row atWapping on the Thames. "

"I'll not argue it, " sheepishly mumbled Jack. "However, we'll find asafe deliverance aboard this _Royal James_. "

They clung to the swaying raft while the water washed over their kneesand watched the two masts disclose themselves until they fancied theycould not be mistaken. No other brig as powerful as this had beenreported cruising in the waters of Virginia and the Carolinas. By astroke of fortune almost incredible they had been saved at the verybrink of death. The brig was steering straight toward them, hauled totake the wind abeam, and she would be up before sunset. 

Shading his eyes with his hand, Joe Hawkridge suddenly uttered a curseso fierce and wicked that it was enough to freeze the blood. He clutchedJack's shoulder for support as though shorn of all his strength andhoarsely gasped:

"Not two masts but three! See it? She lifts high enough to show thestump of the foremast with head-sails jury rigged. 'Twas the storm madea brig of her!"

"Then she may be Blackbeard's ship?" faltered Jack, in a whisper. 

"Remember when the gale first broke and we parted company?" was thereply. "The _Revenge_ lost her fore-topmast ere the swine could findtheir wits. "

"Aye, Joe, but this may be some other vessel. "

"She looks most damnably familiar, " was the reluctant admission. "Agreat press of sail, --it fooled me into thinking her Stede Bonnet'sbrig. "

Gloomily they waited until the black line of the hull was visiblewhenever the raft lifted on the back of a wave. This was enough for Joe. He recognized the graceful shear of the flush deck which had beenextended fore and aft to make room for a heavier main battery. Even ata distance, a sailor's eye could read other signs that marked this shipas the _Revenge_. 

"The devil looks after his own, " angrily exclaimed Joe. "I'd ha' wageredmy last ducat that she was whirled away to founder. Blackbeard boasts ofhis compact with Satan. I believe it's true. "

"Shall we pull down our mast and pray that he passes the raft as a pieceof wreckage?" implored Jack. 

Mustering his wits to meet this new crisis, Joe Hawkridge criedimpatiently:

"No, no, boy! This way death is sure, and most discomfortin'. If itsuits Blackbeard's whim to pick us up, there is a chance, --a chance, Isay, but make one slip and he will run us through with his own hand. "

"We must arrange our tale of the wreck, Joe, to match without flaw. Quick! What have we to say?"

"A task for a scholar, this, " grinned the sea urchin. "If it's not welllearned, we'll taste worse'n a flogging. Where be his prize crew ofpirates, asketh Blackbeard. Answer me that, Jack. "

"The _Plymouth Adventure_ was driven upon a shoal and lost, " gliblyaffirmed the other lad who had rallied to play at this hazardous game. "Her boats were stove up. We left the pirates building a raft forthemselves and trusted ourselves to this poor contrivance, hoping togain the coast. "

"Good, as far as it goes, " observed the critical Joe. 

"And it veers close to the truth. About the ship's company? What sayyou?"

"There I hang in the wind, " confessed Jack. "Blackbeard would have flung'em overboard, I trow. Have a shot at it yourself. "

"Well, leave me to answer that when the time comes. That we may agree, suppose we say Ned Rackham needed the sailors to work the ship and sospared 'em. Hanged if we can make it all true as Gospel. "

"But if Blackbeard searches for the wreck, or if some of those piratesrejoin him, Joe----"

"But me no more buts, " snapped the sea rover. "We be jammed in aclove-hitch, as the seaman's lingo hath it. Take trouble as it comesand, ware ye, don't weaken. "

They stared at the oncoming ship, dreading to be rescued and even morefearful of being passed by. Disfigured though she was by a shatteredforemast, the _Revenge_ made a gallant picture as she leaned to show thecopper sheathing which flashed like gold. Her bow flung the crested seasaside and Joe Hawkridge muttered admiringly:

"A swift vessel! She carries a bone in her teeth. A telescope can sightus soon. Steady the raft, Jack, whilst I wriggle up this mast of oursand wave my shirt. "

"A hard choice, " sighed Jack. "Now we well know what it means to bebetwixt the devil and the deep sea. "

They saw the _Revenge_ shift her course a couple of points as the sheetswere eased off. A little way to windward of the raft, she hove to whilea small boat was hoisted out. Curiosity prompted Blackbeard to find outwho these castaways were and from what ship they had drifted. Itoccurred to Joe Hawkridge that he might be in quest of tidings of thetwo sloops of his squadron which no longer kept him company. JackCockrell's teeth chattered but not with cold as the boat bobbed awayfrom the side of the _Revenge_. Presently Joe recognized the pirate atthe steering oar as a petty officer who had often befriended him. 

This fellow's swarthy, pockmarked face crinkled in a smile as heflourished his broad hat and yelled:

"Stab my gizzard, but here's the London 'prentice-boy a-cruisin' on hisown adventure. "

"Right-o, Jesse Strawn, " Joe called back. "My bark is short-handed. Ineed lively recruits. Will ye enlist?"

The boat's crew laughed at this as they reached out to lay hold of theraft while the two lads leaped aboard. Joe Hawkridge carried it off withrough bravado as though glad to be among his pals again. They eyed JackCockrell with quizzical interest and he did his best to be at ease, permitting Joe to vouch for him as a young gentleman with a taste forpiracy who had won Blackbeard's favor in the _Plymouth Adventure_. Theywere plied with eager questions regarding the fate of the merchant shipand Ned Rackham's prize crew. It was a chance to rehearse the tale asthey had concocted it, and it seemed to hang together well enough tosatisfy these simple rogues. 

In his turn, Joe Hawkridge demanded to know the gossip of the _Revenge_. The storm had sobered Blackbeard, it seemed, and he had displayed theskill of a masterly seaman in bringing them safely through. In toilingfor their own lives, the men had forgotten their brawls and plots andguzzling. And the great wind had blown the ship clear of Spanish fever. There were no new cases and the invalids were gaining strength. Freshfood and sweet water were needed and the opinion was that Blackbeard nowsteered for an old rendezvous of his on the North Carolina coast wherehis sloops would meet him if they were still afloat. 

Jack Cockrell found his courage returning as he clambered up the side ofthe _Revenge_ and followed Joe aft to the quarter-deck. Unless theybungled it, there was a chance that they might escape when the piratesmade their landing on the coast to refresh themselves and refit theship. The mate on watch greeted them good-humoredly enough and bade thementer the cabin where the captain awaited them. Jack was all a-flutteragain but he managed to imitate Joe's careless swagger. 

Blackbeard lounged at his ease in a huge chair of carven ebony whichmight have been filched from some stately East Indiaman or a ship of theGrand Mogul himself. He had flung off his coat and the sleeves of ashirt of damask silk were rolled to the elbow. Instead of the great, mildewed sea-boots he wore slippers of crimson leather embroidered withthreads of gold. Gorgeous cushions, pieces of plate, costly apparelstrewed the cabin in barbaric confusion. 

What the two lads gazed at, however, was this bizarre figure of a despotwho held the power of life and death. It was one of his quieterinterludes when he laid aside the ferocious and bombastic play-actingwhich made it hard to discover whether he was very cunning or half-mad. The immense beard flowed down his chest instead of being tricked out ingaudy ribbons. He was idly running a comb through it when his small, rum-reddened eyes took in the two lads in dripping clothes who wereshoved toward him by the sentry guarding the hatch. 

Blackbeard let a hairy hand stray to clutch one of the pistols kept onthe table beside him. Jack Cockrell gulped and stole a frightened glanceat Joe Hawkridge who winked and nudged him. There was some small comfortin this. Spellbound, they stared at the pistol and then at the pirate'smassive forearm on which a skull and cross-bones was pricked in Indiaink. At this moment Jack earnestly wished himself back on the raft. Thebarrel of the pistol looked as big as a blunderbuss. 

With a yawn, Blackbeard reached for a silver bowl of Brazil nuts, cracked one of them with the pistol-butt and roared for the black cabinboy who came running with a flask of Canary wine and a goblet. JackCockrell's sigh of relief sounded like a porpoise coming up for air. Hewas not to be shot at once. Suddenly Blackbeard exclaimed, in thathusky, growling voice of his:

"I saw you rascals through the glass before I came below. What of theship I left ye in? Briefly now, and no lies. "

Together the lads pieced out the narrative as they had hastily preparedit. The vital thing was to watch lest they tell a word too much. Jackstumbled once or twice but his comrade covered it adroitly, and they didnot betray themselves. The sweat trickled into their eyes but the heatof the cabin was excuse for this. Blackbeard studied them intently, munching Brazil nuts and noisily sipping his wine. 

"The _Plymouth Adventure_ stranded yester-eve?" said he. "Know ye thelay of the coast where the wreck lies? What of the shipmaster and NedRackham? Were they able to fix the shoal by reckoning?"

"No, sir, " readily answered Joe Hawkridge. "'Twas strange land to allhands. "

From a chest Blackbeard hauled out a dog-eared chart of parchment andunrolled it upon the table. The boys foresaw his intention and fearedthe worst. Presently they heard him mumble to himself:

"A small wind setting from the west'ard, --twenty-four hours of driftfor the lads' raft, --a dozen leagues, I call it. "

He looked up from the chart to ask:

"The wreck was lodged fast in smooth water and holding together?"

"Aye, but in peril of working off and sinking like an iron pot, "answered Joe. "For this reason the people were in haste to quit her. "

"Her own crew made for the beach, I have no doubt, " shrewdly pursuedBlackbeard, "but my men 'ud stay by the wreck and watch the weather erethey shoved off. Trust the food and drink and plunder to hold 'em. "

He lumbered to the hatch and called up to the mate on watch. While theyconferred, Joe Hawkridge whispered to his perturbed companion:

"He will hunt for the wreck, Jack. But unless the wind changes, he can'tbeat in to the coast with his fore-topmast gone. "

"A merciful delay, " muttered Jack. "I worry not so much for CaptainWellsby and his people. They will hide themselves well inland when theymake out the _Revenge_, but what of you and me?"

"'Tis a vexing life we lead. I will say that much, Master Cockrell. "

CHAPTER VII

THE MIST OF THE CHEROKEE SWAMP

THE dark cloud of anxiety was lightened a trifle by the fact thatBlackbeard displayed no ill temper toward the two young castaways. Having obtained such information as they chose to offer, he roughly toldthem to go forward and join the crew. Whether or no, Jack was impressedas a pirate and it may have amused Blackbeard to recruit by force thenephew of the honorable Secretary of the Provincial Council. For hispart, Jack was grateful to be regarded no longer as a hostage undersentence of death. With Joe as an escort who knew the ropes, he went ondeck and was promptly kicked off the poop by the mate. 

They first found food and quenched their raging thirst with water whichhad a loathsome smell. Joe reported to the chief gunner and begged thechance to sleep for a dozen hours on end. This was granted amiablyenough and the pirates clustered about to ask all manner of curiousquestions, but the weary lads dragged themselves into the bows of theship and curled up in a stupor. There they lay as if drugged, allthrough the night, even when the seamen trampled over them to haul thehead-sails and tack ship. 

When, at last, they blinked at the morning sky, it dismayed them to findthe breeze blowing strong out of the southeast and the _Revenge_standing in to the coast under easy sail. They looked aft and sawBlackbeard at the rail with a long glass at his eye. The whole crew waseager with expectation and the routine work went undone. The ship hadbeen put about several hours earlier, Joe learned, and was due soon tosight the shore unless the reckoning was all at fault. 

So cleverly had Blackbeard calculated the drift of the boys' raft that alittle later in the morning a lookout in the maintop called down:

"Land, ho! Two points off the starboard bow she bears. "

"The maintop, ahoy!" shouted Blackbeard. "Can ye see a vessel's spars?"

"'Tis too hazy inshore. But unless my eyes play me tricks, a smudge ofsmoke arises. "

Jack Cockrell nervously confided to Joe:

"That would be Captain Wellsby's campfire on the beach. "

"Trust him to douse it, " was the easy assurance. "I feel better. Blowme, but I expect to live another day. "

"Answer me why, " begged Jack. "I am like a palsied old man. "

"Well, you know this bit o' coast, how low it sets above the sea. Despite the haze, a man aloft could see a ship's masts and yards beforehe had a glimpse of land. "

"Then the wreck of the _Plymouth Adventure_ has slid off the shoal andgone down, Joe?"

"Yes, when the wind veered and stirred a surf on the shoal. She poundedover with the flood-tide and dropped into fifteen fathom. "

"Then we are saved, for now?" joyfully exclaimed Jack. 

"Unless we're unlucky enough to find some o' those plaguey piratesafloat on a raft or makin' signals from the beach. "

The _Revenge_ sailed shoreward until those on board could discern themarching lines of breakers which tumbled across the shoal. The smudge ofsmoke had vanished from the beach. The lookout man concluded that thehaze had deceived him. Blackbeard steered as close as he dared go, witha sailor heaving the lead, but there was no sign of life among thesand-dunes and the stunted trees. And the _Plymouth Adventure_ haddisappeared leaving no trace excepting scattered bits of floatingwreckage. 

The pirate ship headed to follow the coast to the northward, on thechance that Ned Rackham's prize crew might have made a landingelsewhere. To Jack Cockrell the gift of life had been miraculouslyvouchsafed him and he felt secure for the moment. Joe's theory seemedplausible, that the pirates had abandoned the _Plymouth Adventure_ intime to avert drowning with her, and were driven away from the bight andthe beach by Captain Wellsby's well-armed sailors. 

"Do they know Blackbeard's rendezvous in the North Carolina waters, Joe?" was the natural query. "Are they likely to make their way thither, knowing that honest men will slay them at sight?"

"The swamps and the murderous Indians will take full toll of 'em, Jack. I believe we have seen the last of those rogues, but I'd rest bettercould I know for certain. "

"Meanwhile this mad Blackbeard may be taken in one of his savagefrenzies and shoot me for sport, " said young Master Cockrell, for whomexistence had come to be one hazard after another. 

"He seems strangely tame, much like a human soul, " observed Joe. "Ine'er beheld him like this. He plots some huge mischief, methinks. "

And now the ship's officers drove the men to their work but they wereless abusive than usual. They seemed to reflect Blackbeard's milderhumor and it was manifest that they wished to avoid the crew'sresentment. Joe Hawkridge was puzzled and began to ferret it out amonghis friends who were trustworthy. They had their own suspicions and thegeneral opinion was that Blackbeard was in great dread of encounteringCaptain Stede Bonnet in the _Royal James_. It seemed that the _Revenge_had spoken a disabled merchant ship just after the storm and her skipperreported that he had been overhauled by Stede Bonnet a few days earlierand the best of his cargo stolen. Blackbeard had been seized withviolent rage but had suffered the ship to proceed on her way because ofhis own short-handed condition. 

With a prize crew lost in the _Plymouth Adventure_, includingSailing-Master Ned Rackham, and the two sloops of the squadron missingwith all hands, the terrible Blackbeard was in poor shape to meet thisCaptain Bonnet who hated him beyond measure. As if this were not gloomyenough, there were men in the _Revenge_ eager to sail under Bonnet'sflag and to mutiny if ever they sighted the _Royal James_. It behoovedBlackbeard to press on to that lonely inlet on the North Carolina coastand avoid the open sea until he could prepare to fight this dangerousfoeman. 

It surprised Jack Cockrell to see how quiet a pirate ship could be. Theruffians were bone-weary, for one thing, after the struggle to bring thevessel through the storm. And the scourge of tropic fever had left itsmarks. Moreover, the rum was running short because some of the casks hadbeen staved in the heavy weather and Blackbeard was doling it out asgrog with an ample dilution of water. There was no more dicing andbrawling and tipsy choruses. Sobered against their will, some of thesebloody-minded sinners talked repentance or shed tears over wives andchildren deserted in distant ports. 

The wind blew fair until the _Revenge_ approached the landmarks familiarto Blackbeard and found a channel which led to the wide mouth ofCherokee Inlet. It was a quiet roadstead sheltered from seaward byseveral small islands. The unpeopled swamp and forest fringed the shoresbut a green meadow and a margin of white sand offered a favorable placefor landing. As the _Revenge_ slowly rounded the last wooded point, thetall mast of a sloop became visible. The pirates cheered and dischargedtheir muskets in salute as they recognized one of the consorts which hadbeen blown away in the storm. 

Blackbeard strutted on his quarter-deck, no longer biting his nails infretful anxiety. He had donned the military coat with the glitteringbuttons and epaulets and the huge cocked hat with the feather in it. Henoted that the sloop, which was called the _Triumph_, fairly buzzed withmen, many more than her usual complement. No sooner had the ship let heranchor splash than a boat was sent over to her with the captain of thesloop who made haste to pay his compliments and explain his voyage. Hewas a portly, sallow man with a blustering manner and looked more like abailiff or a tapster than a brine-pickled gentleman of fortune. 

Blackbeard hailed him cordially and invited him into the cabin. The boatwaited alongside the _Revenge_ and the men scrambled aboard to swapyarns with the ship's crew. Jack Cockrell hovered near the group asthey squatted on their heels around a tub of grog and learned that the_Triumph_ had rescued the crew of the other sloop just before it hadfoundered. There were a hundred men of them, in all, crowded togetherlike dried herring, and part were sleeping ashore in huts of boughs andcanvas. No wonder Blackbeard was in blither spirits. Here was a companyto pick and choose from and so fill the depleted berth-deck of the_Revenge_. 

Finding the poop deserted, Joe Hawkridge ventured far enough to peer inat a cabin window. Blackbeard was at table, together with his firstmate, the chief gunner, the acting sailing-master, and the captain ofthe sloop. They were exceeding noisy, singing most discordantly andlaughing at indecent jests. Suddenly Blackbeard whipped two pistols fromhis sash and fired them under the table, quite at random. 

The first mate leaped up with a horrible yell and clapped a hand to thecalf of his leg. Then he bolted out of the cabin, which was blue withsmoke, and limped in search of the surgeon. Joe Hawkridge dodged asidebut he heard the jovial Blackbeard shout, with a whoop of laughter:

"Discipline, damme! If I don't kill one of you now and then, you'llforget who I am. "

Inasmuch as none of the other guests dared squeak after this episode, itwas to be inferred that they were properly impressed. 

[Illustration: THE FIRST MATE LEAPED UP WITH A HORRIBLE YELL]

In a little while the mate returned with his leg neatly bandaged, announced that it was a mere flesh wound, and sat down as though nothingout of the ordinary had occurred to mar the festive occasion. Throughthe rest of the day, boats were passing between the ship and the sloopin a convivial reunion. Supper was to be cooked on the beach in greatiron kettles and a frolic would follow the feast. The sloop had rumenough to sluice all the parched gullets aboard the _Revenge_. 

Jack Cockrell had no desire to join this stupid revel but he was eagerto get ashore to discover what opportunity there might be to escape. Butthe wiser Joe Hawkridge counseled patience, saying:

"Wait a bit. We'd be as helpless as any babes should we take to ourheels in this ungodly wilderness. Is there a town or plantation nearby?"

"I know not, " ruefully confessed Jack. "Charles Town lies to the south, and Virginia to the north. There my knowledge fetches up short. "

"And leagues of morass to flounder through, by the look of this coast, "said Joe. "We be without weapons, or food, or----"

"I am a hot-headed fool, I grant you that, " broke in Jack. "Now bestowyour sage advice. "

"You will not be allowed to go ashore, for one thing, Master Cockrell. Blackbeard has no notion of letting you get away from him to betray thisrendezvous and stir the colonies to send an expedition after him. Steady the helm, Jack, and watch for squalls. If I can read the signs, there is trouble afoot. And we must seek our own advantage in the nickof time. "

"But these wild sots no longer think of mutiny and the like, Joe. Theyare content to let the morrow go hang. "

"S-s-s-h, 'ware the master of the sloop, " cautioned Joe. "He makes forthe gangway, the big lump of tallow. "

They moved away while Captain Richard Spender clumsily descended intohis boat, his broad face flushed, his breath asthmatic. He had a pipingvoice absurd for his bulk and the two lads amused themselves withmimicking him as the boat pulled in the direction of the sloop. So safeagainst surprise did Blackbeard regard himself in this lonely anchoragethat no more than a dozen men were left aboard to keep the ship throughthe night. Among these was Jack Cockrell, as his comrade had foreseen. It therefore happened that they remained together, for Joe hadvolunteered to join the anchor watch. In a melancholy mood the two ladsidled upon the after deck. 

The sun dropped behind the dark and tangled forest and flights of heronscame winging it home to the islets in the swamps. On the sward by thesilver strand the throng of pirates had stilled their clamor while arascal with a tenor voice held them enraptured with the haunting refrainof:

 "Sweet Annie frae the sea-beach came, Where Jockey's climbed the vessel's side: Ah! wha can keep her heart at hame, When Jockey's tossed aboon the tide?

 "Far off 'till distant realms he gangs, But I'se be true, as he ha' been; And when ilk lass around him thrangs, He'll think on Annie's faithful een. "

Forlorn Jack Cockrell had homesick thoughts and felt hopeless of loosingthe snares which bound him. All that sustained his courage was thesanguine disposition of Joe Hawkridge, whose youthful soul had been sobattered and toughened by dangers manifold on land and sea that heexpected nothing less. Listening to the pirate's moving ballad, they satand swung their legs from the ship's taffrail while their gaze idlyroved to the green curtain of undergrowth which ran lush to the water'sedge to the northward of the beach. 

It was Joe who called attention to a floating object which moved insidethe mouth of the small, tidal creek that wandered through the marshylowlands. In the shadowy light it could easily be mistaken for a logdrifting down on the ebb of the tide. This was what the lads assumed itto be until they both noticed a behavior curious in a log. The long, lowobject turned athwart the current at the entrance of the creek and shottoward the nearest bank as though strongly propelled. 

Joe lifted the telescope from its case in front of the woodenbinnacle-box and squinted long at the edge of the creek. Crude thoughthe glass was, he was enabled to discern that the object was, in truth, a log, but evidently hollowed out. Rounded at the ends, it held two menwhose figures so blended into the dusk that they disclosed themselvesonly when in motion. 

"A pirogue, " said Joe, "and fashioned by Indians! What is the tribehereabouts? Have ye a guess?"

"Roving Yemassees, or men of the Hatteras tribe, " answered Jack. "Yonderbrace of savages will be scouts. "

"Aye, but there'll be no attack 'gainst this pirates' bivouac, rightunder the guns of the ships. The Indians are too wise to attempt it. "

"Look, Joe! Hand me the glass. Those two spies have quitted the pirogue. 'Tis quite empty. They may lay up all night to creep closer and keepwatch on the camp. "

"Right enough, by Crambo! If we could but gain yon cypress canoe, andsteal along the coast by sail and paddle----"

"'Tis the chance we prayed for, " eagerly exclaimed Jack. "Dare we swimfor it?"

"Not with a boat just coming off from shore. What if we try it in thenight and find the pirogue gone?"

"We are stranded for sure, and Blackbeard will kill us. "

Baffled, they strained their eyes until the shore stood black in thestarlight, but as long as the dusk lingered they fancied they coulddescry the empty pirogue. The ship's boat which presently drew alongsidecontained Blackbeard himself and Captain Dick Spender of the _Triumph_sloop, besides several officers of the two vessels. They withdrew intothe cabin and there was prolonged discussion, lasting well towardmidnight. 

It was a secretive session, with trusted men of the boat's crew postedto keep eavesdroppers away from the hatches and windows, nor was thereany loud carousing. Some business was afoot and Jack wondered whether itmight concern the trouble which Joe had sworn was brewing under thesurface. A circumstance even more suspicious was that three of thesailors from the boat were called into the cabin. Joe Hawkridge knewthem as fellows loyal to Blackbeard through thick and thin. Drunkenbeasts, as a rule, they were cold sober to-night. 

As quietly as they had come, the whole party dropped into the boat andreturned either to the beach or to the sloop which rode at anchor twocable-lengths away. The _Revenge_ floated with no more activity on herdarkened decks. The few men of the watch drowsed at their stations orwistfully gazed at the fires ashore and the mob of pirates who moved inthe red glare. Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge felt no desire for sleep. As the ship swung with the turn of the tide, they went to the side andleaned on the tall bulwark where they might catch the first glimpse ofthe shore with the break of day. 

Meanwhile they busied themselves with this wild scheme and that. Siftingthem out, it was resolved to swim from the ship at the firstopportunity. If they could not find the Indian pirogue, Joe would try toget into the pirates' camp by night and possess himself of an axe, anadze, a musket or two, and such food as he could smuggle out. Then, at apinch, they could hide themselves a little way inland and hew out apirogue of their own from a dry log. After hitting upon this plan, thebetter it seemed the more they thrashed it over. 

Unluckily it occurred to them so late in the night that they feared toattempt it then lest the dawn might overtake them while they wereswimming. 'Twas a great pity, said Joe, that their wits had hung fire, like a damp flint-lock, for this was the night when the pirates would bethe most slack and befuddled and it would be precious hard waitingthrough another day. Jack glumly agreed with this point of view. 

It was so near morning, however, that they lingered to scan the shore. Then it was observed that a pearly mist was rising from the swamp landsand spreading out over the water. It was almost like a fog which themorning breeze would dispel after a while. Rolling like smoke it hung solow that the topmast of the sloop rose above it although her hull waslike the gray ghost of a vessel. 

"No sign of wind as yet, " said Joe, holding up a wetted finger, "andthat red sunset bespoke a calm, hot day. This odd smother o' mist maystay a couple of hours. Will ye venture it with me, Jack?"

"Gladly! Over we go, before the watch is flogged awake by the bos'n'smate. "

They crept aft to the high stern and paid out a coil of rope until ittrailed in the water beneath the railed gallery which overhung the hugerudder. Joe belayed his end securely and slid over like a flash, twisting the rope around one leg and letting himself down as agile as amonkey. Without a splash he cast himself loose and Jack followed but notso adroitly. When he plopped into the water the commotion was liketossing a barrel overboard, but nobody sounded an alarm. 

They clung to the rusty rudder chains and listened. The ship was allquiet. Then out into the mist they launched themselves, swimming almostsubmerged, dreading to hear an outcry and the spatter of musket balls. But the veiling mist and the uncertain light of dawn soon protected thefugitives. It was slow, exhausting progress, hampered as they were bytheir breeches and shoes which could not be discarded. They tried tokeep a sense of direction, striking out for the mouth of the creek inwhich the pirogue had been moored, but the tide set them off the courseand the only visible marks were the spars of the ship behind them andthe sloop's topmast off to one side. 

[Illustration: JACK ALMOST BUMPED INTO THE DUGOUT CANOE]

Jack swam more strongly and showed greater endurance because he had thebeef and had been better nourished all his life than the scrawny youngpowder boy who was more like a lath. Now and then Jack paused to treadwater while his shipmate clung to his shoulder and husbanded his waningstrength, with that indomitable grin on his freckled phiz. Of one thingthey were thankful, that the tide was bearing them farther away from thepirates' camp, which was now as still as though the sleepers were deadmen. 

"Blood and bones, but I have swum a league a'ready, " gurgled Joe duringone of the halts. 

"Shut your mouth or you'll fill up to the hatch and founder, " scoldedJack. "I see trees in the mist. The shore is scarce a pistol shot away. "

"I pray my keel scrapes soon, " spluttered the waterlogged Hawkridge ashe kicked himself along in a final effort. 

Huzza, their feet touched the soft ooze and they fell over stumps androtted trunks buried under the surface. Scratched and beplastered withmud, they crawled out in muck which gripped them to the knees, androosted like buzzards upon the butt of a prostrate live-oak. 

"Marooned, " quoth Joe, "to be eaten by snakes and alligators. "

"Nonsense, " snapped Master Cockrell, who had hunted deer and wild-fowlon the Carolina coast. "We can pick our way with care. I have seenpleasanter landscapes than this, but I like it better than Blackbeard'scompany. "

There was no disputing this statement and Joe plucked up spirit, as washis habit when another arduous task confronted him. Cautiously they madetheir way from one quaking patch of sedge to another or scrambled totheir middles. There came a ridge of higher ground thick with bramblesand knotted vines and they traversed this with less misery. A gleam ofwater among the trees and they took it to be the creek which they soughtto find. Wary of lurking Indians, they wormed along on their stomachsand so came to the high swamp grass of the bank. 

They swam the creek and crept toward its mouth. Jack was rooting alonglike a bear when he almost bumped into the dugout canoe which had lookedso very like a stranded log. It was tied to a tree by a line of twistedfibre and the rising tide had borne it well up into the marsh. Here itwas invisible from the ship and only a miracle of good fortune hadrevealed it to the lads in that glimpse from the deck at sundown. 

They crawled over the gunwale and slumped in the bottom of the pirogue, which was larger than they expected, a clumsy yet seaworthy craft with awide floor and space to crowd a dozen men. Fire had helped to hollow itfrom a giant of a cypress log, for the inner skin was charred black. Three roughly made paddles were discovered. This was tremendouslyimportant, and all they lacked was a mast and sail to be truenavigators. 

Something else they presently found which was so unlooked for, soincredible, that they could only gape and stare at each other. Tucked inthe bow was a seaman's jacket of tarred canvas, of the kind used in wetweather. Sewed to the inside of it was a pocket of leather with abuttoned flap. This Jack Cockrell proceeded to explore, recovering fromhis stupefaction, and fished out a wallet bound in sharkskin as was thehabit of sailors to make for themselves in tropic waters. It containednothing of value, a few scraps of paper stitched together, a bit ofcoral, a lock of yellow hair, a Spanish coin, some shreds of driedtobacco leaf. 

Carefully Jack examined the ragged sheets of paper which seemed to be acarelessly jotted diary of dates and events. Upon the last leaf wasscrawled, "_Bill Saxby, His Share_, " and beneath this entry such itemsas these:

 "Aprl. Ye 17--A Spanish shippe rich laden. 1 sack Vanilla. 2 Rolls Blue Cloth of Peru. 1 Packet Bezoar Stones. 

 "May ye 24--A Poor Shippe. 3 Bars of Silver. 1 Case Cordial Waters. A Golden Candle-stick. My share by Lot afore ye Mast. "

Joe Hawkridge could neither read nor write but he had ready knowledgeof the meaning of these entries and he cried excitedly:

"Say the name again, Jack. Bill Saxby, His Share. Strike me blind, but Iwas chums with Bill when we lay off Honduras. As decent a lad as everwent a-piratin'! A heart of oak is Bill, hailin' from London town. "

"But what of the riddle?" impatiently demanded Jack. "Whence this Indianpirogue? And where is Bill Saxby?"

"He sailed with Stede Bonnet, bless ye, " answered Joe. "These two men wespied in the canoe last night were no Indians. _They were Cap'n Bonnet'smen. _ Indians would ha' hid the pirogue more craftily. "

"But they came not along the coast. Did they drop down this creek fromsomewhere inland?"

"There you put me in stays, " confessed Joe. "One thing I can swear. Theywere sent to look for Blackbeard's ships. And I sore mistrust they werecaught whilst prowling near the camp. Else they would ha' come back tothe canoe before day. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE EPISODE OF THE WINDING CREEK

THE singular discovery of Bill Saxby's jacket was like a shock to driveall else out of their minds. Now they found that it had been thrown overa jug of water and a bag of beef and biscuit stowed in the bow. Thissolved one pressing problem, and they nibbled the hard ration whiledebating the situation. It was agreed that they could not honorably runaway with the pirogue if it really belonged to Stede Bonnet's men, whomust have come on foot along the higher ground back of the coast anddescended the creek in the canoe stolen or purchased from Indians met bychance. 

Granted this much, it was fair to conjecture that Captain Bonnet's shipwas in some harbor not many leagues distant and that he knew where tofind Blackbeard's rendezvous, at Cherokee Inlet. 

"'Tis your job to stand by the pirogue, Jack, " suggested Hawkridge, "andI will make a sally toward the pirates' camp afore they rouse out. "

"Go softly, Joe, and don't be reckless. Why not lie up till night beforeyou reconnoitre?"

"'Cause the mist still hangs heavy and I'm blowed if I dilly-dally ifgood Bill Saxby has come to grief. "

"Supposing he has, you cannot wrest him single-handed from Blackbeard'screw. "

"Well, if I can but slip a word of comfort in his ear, it'll cheer himmightily, unless his throat be cut by now, " was the stubborn response. "Sit thee taut, Jack, old _camarada_, and chuck the worry. Care killed acat. These rogues yonder in the camp won't _molest me_ if I walk boldlyamongst 'em. "

"What if you don't return?" persisted Jack. "How long shall I wait herewith the pirogue?"

"Now what the deuce can I say to such foolish queries? If things gowrong with me and Bill and his mate, you will have to cruise alone orhop back to the _Revenge_. "

With a laugh and a wave of the hand, the dauntless adventurer leapedfrom the nose of the canoe, nimbly hauled himself into a tree, and thenplunged into the gloomy swamp where he was speedily lost to view. JackCockrell settled himself to wait for he knew not what. Clouds of midgesand mosquitoes tormented him and he ached with fatigue. Soon aftersunrise the mist began to burn away and the mouth of the creek was nolonger obscured by shadows. In the glare of day Jack thought it likelythat the canoe might be detected by some pair of keen eyes aboard the_Revenge_. 

To move it far might imperil Joe Hawkridge and Bonnet's two seamenshould they come in haste with a hue-and-cry behind them. Jack paddledthe pirogue up the creek and soon found a safe ambuscade, a stagnantcove in among the dense growth, where he tied up to a gnarled root. Thenhe climbed a wide-branching oak and propped himself in a crotch fromwhich he could see the open water and the two vessels at anchor. Clumpsof taller trees cut off any view of the beach and the camp but he daredstray no farther from the pirogue. 

Tediously an hour passed and there was no sign of Joe Hawkridge. He hada journey of only a few hundred yards to make, and Jack began to imagineall kinds of misfortune that might have befallen him, such as beingmired beyond his depth in the swamp and perishing miserably. Thesensible conclusion was, however, that he had tarried among hisshipmates in the camp with some shrewd purpose in mind. 

A little later in the morning, Jack's anxious cogitations were divertedby the frequent passage of boats between the _Revenge_ and the sloopwhich was anchored nearer the beach. One of these small craft wasBlackbeard's own cock-boat, or captain's gig, which he used for errandsin smooth water, with a couple of men to pull it. Jack was reminded ofthat secret conference in the cabin and Joe's conviction that someuncommon devilment was afoot. It appeared as though "Tallow Dick"Spender, that unwholesome master of the _Triumph_ sloop, had been chosenas the right bower. 

And now there arose a sudden and riotous noise in the camp. It was notthe mirth and song of jolly pirates a-pleasuring ashore but theferocious tumult of men in conflict and taken unawares. Perched in thetree, Jack Cockrell listened all agog as the sounds rose and fell withthe breeze which swayed the long gray moss that draped the branches. Heheard a few pistol shots and then was startled to see a spurt of flamedart from a gun-port of the sloop. The dull report reached him aninstant later. He could see that the gun had been fired from thevessel's shoreward battery. It meant that Blackbeard was making a targetof some part of the camp. Another gun belched its cloud of smoke. 

The noise died down, save for intermittent shouts and one long wail ofanguish. Presently a boat moved out past the sloop. A dozen men tuggedat the oars and others stood crowded in the stern-sheets. Jack caughtthe gleam of weapons and thought he recognized the squat, broad figureof Blackbeard himself beside the man at the steering oar. Behind thispinnace from the _Revenge_ trailed two other boats in tow. They passedin slow procession, out between the vessels. The boats which the pinnacetowed were not empty. Instead of sitting upon the thwarts, men seemed tobe strewn about in them as if they had been tossed over the gunwaleslike so much dunnage. 

Jack rubbed his eyes in amazement and watched the line of boats turn tofollow the channel which led out of the sheltered roadstead to the seabeyond. When they vanished beyond a sandy island, the lad in thelive-oak tree said to himself:

"My guess is that Blackbeard has put a stopper on all talk of mutiny byone bold stroke. A bloody weeding-out, and in those two boats are thepoor wretches who were taken alive. Alas, one of 'em may be JoeHawkridge unless he be dead already. He talked too much of Stede Bonnetaboard the ship. And there were sneaking dogs in the crew who spied ontheir comrades. We saw them enter the cabin last night. "

There was no getting around the evidence. It fitted together all toowell. Jack sadly reflected that, beyond a doubt, he had seen the last ofgallant, loyal Joe Hawkridge. Left alone with the pirogue, which hecould not paddle single-handed, it was folly to think of trying toescape along the coast. And to wander inland, ignorant of the country, was to court almost certain death. Nor could he now expect mercy fromBlackbeard, having deserted the ship against orders and known to be atrue friend of Captain Stede Bonnet. 

The most unhappy lad could no longer hold his cramped station in thetree and he decided to seek the canoe and find the meagre solace of alittle food and water. He was half-way to the ground when he clutched alimb and halted to peer into the swamp. Something was splashing throughthe mud and grass and making a prodigious fuss about it. Then Jack heardtwo voices in grunts and maledictions. Fearing the enemy might havetracked him, he stood as still as a mouse in the leafage of the oak. 

Out of the swamp emerged a young man with a musket on his shoulder. Behind him came one very much older, gaunt and wrinkled, his hair asgray as the Spanish moss that overhung his path. They reached the edgeof the creek and then turned down to halt where the pirogue had beenleft. At failing to find it there, they argued hotly and were muchdistressed. Jack Cockrell's fears were calmed. These were no men ofBlackbeard's company, but good Bill Saxby and his mate. He called tothem from his perch and they stood wondering at this voice from heaven. 

In a jiffy Jack had slid down and was beckoning them. They hurried asfast as they could pull their feet out of the muck, and were overjoyedto jump into the hidden canoe. There they sat and thumped Jack Cockrellon the head by way of affectionate greeting. The younger man had achubby cheek, a dimple in his chin, and blue eyes as big and round as ababe's. 

"Bill Saxby is me, " said his pleasant voice, "and a precious job had Ito get here. Joe Hawkridge told me of you, Master Cockrell. "

"Where is Joe?" cried Jack, dreading to hear his own opinion confirmed. 

"Marooned, along with two dozen luckless lads that were trapped likepigeons----"

"'Twas more like turtles all a-sleepin' in the sand, " the old mancroaked in rusty accents. "A few was sharp awake and they fought prettywhilst the rest rallied, but they got drove with their backs to theswamp and a deep slough. Then the sloop turned her guns on 'em and theystruck their colors. "

"And Joe Hawkridge sided with his friends, of course, " said Jack. 

"Would ye expect aught else of him?" proudly answered Bill Saxby. "Hesearched us out where we lay trussed like fowls, all bound with ropes. We blundered fair into the camp last night, and old Trimble Rogers here, his legs knotted with cramps, couldn't make a run for it. They saved usfor Blackbeard's pleasure but he had other fish to fry. "

"What then?" demanded Jack. 

"'Twas Joe Hawkridge that ran to cut our bonds when the fight began. Andhe bade us leg it for the pirogue and carry word to you. A pledge ofhonor, he called it, to stand by his dear friend Jack, and he made usswear it. "

"Bless him for a Christian knight of a pirate, " said Jack, with tears inhis eyes. "Was he hurt, did ye happen to note?"

"We hid ourselves till the prisoners were flung into the boats. I markedJoe as one of 'em, and he was sprightly, barring a bloody face. "

"Marooned, Bill Saxby?" asked Jack. "What's your judgment on thatscore? It cannot be many leagues from here, or the ship would havetransported them instead of the boats. "

"These barren islands lie strung well out from the coast, MasterCockrell. Waterless they be, and without shelter. Blackbeard's fancy isto let the men die there----"

"An ancient custom of buccaneers and pirates, " put in old TrimbleRogers, with an air of grave authority. "I mind me in the year of 1687when I sailed in the South Sea with that great captain, EdwardDavis, --'twas after the sack of Guayaquil when every man had a greaterweight of gold and silver than he could lug on his back----"

Bill Saxby interrupted, in a petulant manner:

"Stow it, grandsire! At a better time ye can please the lad with yourlong-winded yarns, --of marching on Panama with Henry Morgan when themother's milk was scarce dry on your lips. "

"I cruised with the best of 'em, " boasted the last of the storied raceof true buccaneers of the Spanish Main, "and now I be in this cheaptrade of piratin'. The fortunes I gamed away, and the plate ships Iboarded! Take warnin', boy, and salt your treasure down. "

"This Trimble Rogers will talk you deaf, " said Bill Saxby, "but there'spith in his old bones and wisdom under yon hoary thatch. Cap'n Bonnetsent him along with me as a rare old hound to trail the swamps. "

In a vivid flash of remembrance, Jack Cockrell saw this salty relic ofthe Spanish Main among the crew which had disported itself on the taverngreen at Charles Town, --the old man sitting aside with a couple of straychildren upon his knees while his head nodded to the lilt of the fiddle. And again there had been a glimpse of him trudging in the column whichhad followed Stede Bonnet, with trumpet and drum, to attack the hostileIndians. Jack's heart warmed to Trimble Rogers and also to young BillSaxby. They would find some way out of all this tribulation. 

"Whither lies Captain Bonnet's stout ship?" eagerly demanded Jack. 

"On this side the Western Ocean, " smiled Saxby. "We shall waste no timein finding her. We had better bide where we are a few hours, eh, Trimble?"

"Aye, and double back up the stream in the canoe to spend the night ondry land and push on afoot at dawn. If we wait to sight Blackbeard'sboats come in from sea, 'twill aid us to reckon how far out they wentand what the bearings are. "

"So Captain Bonnet may sail to pick off those poor seamen marooned, "exclaimed Jack. 

"He is not apt to leave 'em to bleach their bones, " said Bill Saxby. "And when it comes to closing in with Blackbeard, they will have agrudge of their own. "

They made themselves as comfortable as possible on the bottom of thepirogue. Now and then Jack climbed the live-oak to look for the returnof the boats. There was no more leisure for the pirates left in the shipand the sloop. Evidently Blackbeard had been alarmed by the tidings thattwo of Stede Bonnet's men had been caught spying him out and had madetheir escape in the confusion. The sloop was now listed over in shoalwater and Bill Saxby ventured the opinion that they intended to take themast out of her and put it in the _Revenge_. 

"Along with most of her guns, I take it, " said Trimble Rogers. "Whatwith losing all those men, in one way or another, this Blackbeard, asCap'n Ed'ard Teach miscalls hisself, must needs abandon the sloop. Themore the merrier, says I, when we come at close quarters. "

Jack asked many curious questions, by way of passing the time. The oldman was easy to read. He had been a lawless sea rover in the days whenthere was both gold and glory in harrying Spanish towns and galleons, from Mexico to Peru. The real buccaneers had vanished but he was too olda dog to learn new tricks and he faithfully served Stede Bonnet, who hada spark of the chivalry and manliness which had burned so brightly inthat idolized master, Captain Edward Davis. 

As for this blue-eyed smiling young Bill Saxby, he had been a smalltradesman in London. Through no fault of his own, he was cruellyimprisoned for debt and, after two years, shipped to the Carolinaplantations as no better than a slave. For all he knew, the girl wifeand child in London had been suffered to starve. He had never heard anyword of them. As a fugitive he had been taken aboard a pirate vessel. There he found kindlier treatment than honest men had ever offered him, and so grew somewhat reconciled to this wicked calling. 

On one of the occasions when Jack left these entertaining companions tovisit his high sentry post in the tree, he surmised that all hands hadbeen summoned on the vessel and lifting out her mast. He could see twoboats plying back and forth and filled with men. He lingered becausesomething else caught his interest. A little boat was putting out fromthe seaward side of the _Revenge_ and it fetched a wide circuit of theharbor. This brought the ship between it and the sloop so that itsdeparture would be unobserved by the toiling crew. 

Two men were at the oars and a third sat in the stern. At a distance, Jack guessed they were bound to one of the nearest islands, perhaps insearch of oysters or crabs, but after making a long sweep which carriedthe boat out of vision of the sloop and the beach, it swung toward theshore, a little to the northward of the mouth of the creek. The errandhad a stealthy air. Jack Cockrell started and almost fell out of thetree. He had been mistaken in his fancy that Blackbeard was in thepinnace which had towed the prisoners out to be marooned. This was noneother than the grotesque fiend of a pirate himself, furtively steeringhis cock-boat on some private errand of his own. 

As soon as he was certain of this, Jack fairly scurried down the tree, digging his toes in the bark like a squirrel, and tumbling head overheels into the pirogue. Breathing rapidly, he stuttered:

"The--the devil himself, --in that little w-wherry of his, --c-cominginshore. He must ha' seen the canoe. He is in chase of me. "

"Go take a look, Bill, " coolly remarked old Trimble Rogers, who was busyslapping at mosquitoes. "A touch o' the sun has bred a nightmare in thelad. "

Bill Saxby swarmed up the live-oak like a limber seaman with fish-hooksfor fingers and he, too, almost lost his balance at what he saw. Hewaved a warning hand at the canoe and then put his fingers to his lips. Down he came in breakneck haste and urged the others to haul their craftfarther up into the sedge. He was plucking green bushes and armfuls ofdried grass to fling across the gunwales. 

Satisfied that the canoe was entirely concealed, they crouched low. Theold man was more concerned with the pest of insects and he reached outto claw up the sticky mud with which he plastered his face and neck likea mask. This seemed to give him some relief and his comrades were gladto do the same. Bill Saxby was attentive to the priming of the musket, which he passed over to Trimble Rogers, saying:

"You are the chief gunner, old hawk. But hold your fire. I'm itching toknow what trick this Don Whiskerando is up to. "

"Fair enough, " muttered the old man. "Cap'n Bonnet 'ud clap me in ironsif I slew this filthy Ed'ard Teach and robbed him of that enjoyment. I'll pull no trigger save in our own defense. "

They heard the faint splash of oars. Soon the little cock-boat camegliding around the bend of the shore and floated into the mouth of thecreek. Bill Saxby raised himself for a moment and ducked swiftly as hewhispered:

"He is not lookin' about but motions 'em to row on up the stream. "

"Then our canoe is not what he's after?" murmured Jack. 

"'Tis some queer game. Were he hunting us, he'd fetch along more handsthan them two. Hush! Let him pass. "

The little boat came steadily on, the tide helping the oars. It sat verylow in the water, oddly so for the weight of three men. Blackbeard, hunched in the stern, held a pistol in one hand while the other grippedthe tiller. This was not in fear of danger from the shore because hekept his eyes on the two seamen at the oars and it was plain to see thatthe pistol was meant to menace them. 

The boat passed abreast of the pirogue so artfully concealed in thepocket of a tiny cove. The intervening distance was no more than a dozenyards. Old Trimble Rogers wistfully fingered the musket and lifted it tosquint along the barrel. Never was temptation more sturdily resisted. Then his face, hard as iron and puckered like dried leather, broke intoa smile. The idea pleased him immensely. They would follow Blackbeardand watch the chance to take him alive. He who had trapped his own menin camp was now neatly trapped himself, his retreat cut off. Tie acouple of fathom of stout cord to his whiskers and tow him along byland, all the way to Stede Bonnet's ship. There the worthy captain couldbargain with him at his own terms, silently chuckled the old buccaneer. 

They held their breath and gazed at the fantastic scoundrel who had madehimself the ogre among pirates. He had discarded the great hat ascumbersome and his tousled head was bound around with a wide strip ofthe red calico from India. Still and solid he sat, like a heathen idol, staring in front of him and intent on his mysterious errand. The unseenspectators in the pirogue scanned also the two seamen at the oars andfelt a vague pity for them. Unmistakably they were sick with fear. Itwas conveyed by their dejected aspect, by the tinge of pallor, by thefixity with which they regarded the cocked pistol in Blackbeard's fist. Jack Cockrell knew them as abandoned villains who had boasted of many abloody deed but the swarthy, pockmarked fellow had been in the boatwhich had saved the two lads from the drifting raft. This was enough toawaken a lively sympathy. 

Trimble Rogers gripped Jack's shoulder with a strength which made himwince and pointed a skinny finger at the boat. The fate of the twoseamen did not trouble him greatly. Those who lived by violence shouldrightly expect to die by it. The sea was their gaming table and it wastheir ill luck if the dice were cogged. Just then Bill Saxby stifled anejaculation. He, too, had discovered the freightage in the cock-boat, the heavy burden which made it swim so low. 

It rested in front of Blackbeard's knees, the top showing above thecurve of the gunwales. It was a sea-chest, uncommonly large, built ofsome dark tropical wood and strapped with iron. Old Trimble Rogers'fierce eyes glittered and he licked his lips. He leaned over to whisperin Bill Saxby's ear the one word:

"_Treasure!_"

CHAPTER IX

BLACKBEARD'S ERRAND IS INTERRUPTED

BLACKBEARD'S deep-laden boat was rowed on past the pirogue and turned tofollow the channel of the sluggish stream. Bill Saxby thrust aside thecover of grass and boughs and shoved the log canoe out of the cove. Socrooked was the course of the creek that the boat was already out ofsight and by stealthy paddling it was possible to pursue undetected. OldTrimble Rogers had forgotten his lust to slay Blackbeard. His gloatingimagination could picture the contents of that massive sea-chest after along cruise in southern waters. 

It was foolish to attempt to surprise Blackbeard while afloat in thecreek. In a race of it, the handy cock-boat could pull away from theclumsier pirogue manned by two paddles only, for Trimble Rogers wasneeded to steer and be ready with the musket. This was their onlyfirearm, which Bill Saxby had snatched up during the flight from thecamp. At the same time he had lifted a powder-horn and bullet pouch froma wounded pirate. 

"If I do bang away and miss him, " grumbled Trimble Rogers, "he's apt topepper us afore I can reload. "

"But you forswore shootin' him, " chided Bill Saxby, between strokes ofthe paddle. 

"Show me a great sea-chest crammed wi' treasure and I'd put a holethrough the Grand High Panjandrum hisself, " replied the ancient one. "Aye, Bill, there be more'n one way to skin an eel. We'll lay aboardthis bloody blow-hard of a Cap'n Teach whilst he's a-buryin' of it. Heremay well be where he has tucked away his other plunder. What if we bagthe whole of it?"

"One more fling, eh, Trimble, and more gold than ye lugged on your backfrom Guayaquil, " grinned young Bill. 

They had spoken in cautious tones and now held their tongues. Thepaddles dipped with no more than a trickle of water and the canoe huggedthe marsh. They were close to the next bend of the stream and the soundof the oars in the cock-boat was faintly audible. As the tallest of thethree, the old man stood up after swathing his head in dried grass, andgazed across the curve of the shore. By signs he told his companionsthat Blackbeard was bound farther up the stream. 

They waited a little, giving their quarry time to pass beyond anotherturn of the channel. Jack Cockrell was embarked on the most entrancingexcursion of his life. This repaid him for all he had suffered. His onlyregret was that poor Joe Hawkridge had been marooned before he couldshare this golden adventure. However, he would see that Joe received ahandsome amount of treasure. Trimble Rogers was muttering again, andthus he angrily expounded a grievance:

"A thief is this Cap'n Teach, --like a wild hog, all greed and bristles. 'Tis the custom of honest buccaneers and pirates to divide the spoils bythe strict rule, --six shares for the commander, two for the master'smate, and other officers accordin' to their employment, with one shareto every seaman alike. Think ye this bloody pick-purse dealt fairly byhis crew? In yon sea-chest be the lawful shares of all the woesome ladshe marooned this day. An' as much more as he durst skulk away with. "

"Easy, now, old Fire-and-Brimstone, " warned Bill, "or that temper willgain the upper hand. Don't spoil the show by bombardin' Blackbeard withthat cross-eyed musket. "

Now here was young Master Cockrell, a gentleman and a near kinsman of ahigh official who had sworn to hang every mother's son of a pirate thatharried Carolina waters. And yet this godly youth was eager to lay handson Blackbeard's treasure so as to divide it among the pirates who hadbeen robbed of it. It was a twisted sense of justice, no doubt, and acode of morals turned topsy-turvy, but you are entreated to think nottoo harshly of such behavior. Master Cockrell had fallen into almightybad company but the friends he had made displayed fidelity and readinessto serve him. 

"How far will the chase lead us?" he inquired. 

"Did you men come down this same creek in the pirogue?"

"Aye, in this very same mess o' pea soup and jungle, " answered BillSaxby. "Two miles in from the coast, at a venture, was where we stumbledon the canoe and tossed the Indians out of it. Beyond that the waterspreads o'er the swamp with no fairway for a boat. "

Once more they paddled for a short stretch and then repeated thestratagem of hauling into the dense growth of the mud-flat and pausinguntil the cock-boat had steered beyond the next elbow of the stream. Itbecame more and more difficult to avoid the fallen trees and otherobstructions, but Blackbeard was threading his course like a pilotacquainted with this dank and somber region. The pirogue ceased to lagpurposely but had to be urged in order to keep within striking distance. 

Twice they were compelled to climb out and shove clear of sunkenentanglements or slimy shoals. But when they held themselves to listen, they could still hear the measured thump of oars against the pins, likethe beat of a distant drum in the brooding silence of this melancholysolitude. They had struggled on for perhaps a mile and a half, in all, when Trimble Rogers ordered another halt. He was perplexed, like a hounduncertain of the scent. From the left bank of the creek, a smallerstream meandered blindly off into the swamp. Into which of thesewatercourses had Blackbeard continued his secret voyage?

Again they listened, and more anxiously than ever. The tell-tale thumpof the oars had ceased. The only sounds in the bayou were the trickle ofwater from the tidal pools, the wind in the tree-tops, the rat-tat-tatof a woodpecker, and the scream of a bob-cat. With a foolish air ofchagrin, Trimble Rogers rubbed his hoary pate and exclaimed:

"Whilst Bill and me were a-paddlin' this hollow log down-stream, we tookno heed of a fork like this yonder. With the sun at our backs to guideus, we knew we was makin' easterly to fetch the coast. What say, Bill?"

"Cursed if I know. Spin a coin. The treasure has slipped us. "

"Rot me if it has!" snarled the old man. "We'll push on as we are, inthe bigger stream. That stinkin' ditch on my left hand looks too weedyand shallow to float a boat. "

"It makes no odds. A gamester's choice, " amiably agreed Bill. 

They paddled with might and main, flinging caution to the winds. JackCockrell was well versed in handling one of these dugout canoes and hisstout arms made Bill Saxby grunt and sweat to keep stroke with him. Whenthe craft grounded they strove like madmen to push it clear. TrimbleRogers tore the water with a paddle, straining every sinew andcondemning Blackbeard to the bottomless pit in a queer jargon of theSpanish, French, and English tongues. It required such a luridvocabulary to give vent to his feelings. He was even more distressedwhen he sighted the clump of gum trees near by which he and Bill hadpurloined the pirogue. Beyond this the creek was impassable. 

"Throwed a blank! Wear ship and drive back to the fork o' the waters, "shouted the old man. "Hull down an' under though he be, we'll nab yon_picaro_, with his jolly treasure. _Rapido, camaradas! Vivo!_"

To make haste was easier said than done but the sluggish current was nowin their favor and there was no more than a half mile to traverse understress of furious exertion. The heavy canoe crashed through obstacleswhich had delayed the upward journey and they knew where to avoid theworst of the shoals. What fretted them was the fear that Blackbeardmight have buried the sea-chest and descended the creek while they wereengaged in this wild-goose chase. But this seemed unlikely and, moreover, old Trimble Rogers was the man to nose out the marks of thelanding-place and the trail which must have been left. 

Where the two streams joined, the pirogue turned and shot into thesmaller one. To their surprise it presently widened and was like a tinylagoon, with the water much clearer as if fed by springs. The view wasless broken and there were glimpses of dry knolls in the swamp andverdure not so noxious and tanglesome. Along the edge of this prettypond skimmed the pirogue while Trimble Rogers keenly scanned every inchof it for the imprint of a boat's keel. A hundred yards and the wateragain narrowed to a little creek. Impetuously the canoe swung to passaround a spit of land covered with a thicket of sweet bay. 

There, no more than a dozen feet beyond, was the captain's cock-boatfrom the _Revenge_. Its bow had been pulled out of the water whichdeepened from a shelving bank. The boat was deserted but above thegunwale could be seen the iron-bound lid of the massive sea-chest. Thosein the pirogue desired to behold nothing else. They were suddenlydiverted by a tremendous yell which came booming out of the tall grasswhere it waved breast-high on the shore of the stream. A pistol barkedand the ball clipped a straggling lock of Trimble Rogers' gray hair. 

Driving his two seamen before him, Blackbeard rushed for his boat asfast as the bandy legs and clumsy sea-boots could carry him. In fanciedsecurity he had explored the nearest knoll. And now appeared thisinfernal canoe, surging full-tilt at his treasure chest. 

Things happened _rapido_ enough to glut even an old buccaneer. Theconsternation in the pirogue prevented any thought of checking headwaywith the paddles. This hollowed cypress log, narrow beamed and solid atboth ends, still moved with a weighty momentum. Its astounded crew wereotherwise occupied. Blackbeard appeared to have the advantage of them. Jack Cockrell ducked to the bottom of the canoe. Bill Saxby's eyes ofbaby blue were big and round as saucers as he wildly flourished hispaddle as the only cudgel at hand. 

With a whoop-la, old Trimble Rogers leaped to his feet, the long musketat his shoulder. Before he could aim at the savage, bushy figure ofBlackbeard, the prow of the pirogue crashed into the side of thecock-boat, striking it well toward the stern. The ancient freebooterdescribed a somersault and smote the water with a mighty splash, musketand all. Blowing like a grampus, he bobbed to the top, clawing the weedsfrom his eyes but still clutching the musket. Nobody paid his misfortunethe slightest heed. 

The water deepened suddenly, as has been said, where the current hadscoured the bank. With the nose of the little boat pulled well up in themud, the stern sloped almost level with the surface of the stream. Theblunt, slanting bow of the pirogue banged into the plank gunwale andslid over it. The force of the blow dragged the cock-boat to one sideand wrenched it free of the shore. It floated at the end of a tether butthe bow of the canoe pressed the stern under and tipped it until thewater rushed in. 

Listed far over, the sea-chest slid a trifle and this was enough to pushthe gunwale clear under. The boat filled and capsized, what with theweight of the chest and the pressure of the canoe's fore part. Down tothe oozy bed sank Blackbeard's treasure. 

The arch-pirate himself came charging out of the marsh-grass in time towitness this lamentable disaster. His hoarse ejaculations were toodreadful for a Christian reader's ears. Dumfounded for an instant, hegathered his wits to fire another pistol at the pirogue. The ball flewwild, as was to be expected of a marksman in a state of mind sodistraught. He had overlooked those two poor seamen of his who had beenimpressed to bury the treasure, after which they were presumably to bepistoled or knocked on the head. Dead men told no tales. Doomedwretches, they were quick to snatch from this confusion the precioushope of life. 

The pockmarked fellow, who was powerfully built, whirled like a cat ashe heard Blackbeard's pistol discharged just behind him. There was notime to draw and cock another pistol. The seaman fairly flew at thepirate captain's throat. Down they toppled and vanished in the grasstogether. A moment later Blackbeard bounded to his feet, a bloody dirkin his hand. He had done for the poor fellow who lay groaning where hefell. Terrified by this, the other seaman wheeled and fled to the bankof the creek, seeking the pirogue as his only refuge. 

He leaped for it but his feet slipped in the treacherous mud and hisimpetus was checked so that he tumbled forward, striking the solid sideof the dugout with great force. He was splashing in the water but hisexertions were feeble. Either the collision had stunned him or he wasunable to swim. Bill Saxby and Jack Cockrell were trying to swing thecanoe clear of the boat and effect a landing. Trimble Rogers had rescuedhimself from the creek and was ramming a dry charge into his drippingmusket. Blackbeard was a deadly menace and their attention was fixed onhim. 

When they endeavored to lend a hand to the helpless seaman he had sunkbeneath the surface of the roily stream. They saw him come up and turn aghastly face to them, but he went down like a stone before a hand couldclutch at him. A few bubbles and this was the end of him. Jack Cockrellhesitated with a brave impulse to dive in search of him although he knewthe bottom was a tangle of rotted trees, but just then Bill Saxby yelledto him to follow ashore with a paddle for a weapon. The luckless seamanwas already drowned, this was as good as certain, and Jack jumped fromthe pirogue. 

Blackbeard had halted his onrush and he wavered when he beheld stoutBill Saxby within a few strides of him and long Trimble Rogers gallopingthrough the grass with his musket. Another pistol shot or two would notstop these three antagonists and a buffet from one of those hewn paddleswould dash out a man's brains. The most ferocious of all pirates foronce preferred to run away and live to fight another day. His boatdenied him, he whirled about to plunge through the tall, matted grass. He was running in the direction of the dry knoll whence he hadappeared. 

Infuriated by the fate of the two seamen, Trimble Rogers made a try atshooting him on the wing but the musket ball failed to find the mark. Itwas necessary to hunt him down for the sake of their own safety. Theymight have gone their way in the pirogue but this would have been toabandon the sea-chest without an effort to drag it up or fix itslocation. 

Now it might seem an easy matter for these pursuers, two of them youngand active, to run down this fugitive Blackbeard, encumbered as he wasby middle age and dissipation. They put after him boldly, with littlefear of his pistols. In this dense cover he would have to fire at themhaphazard and he was unlikely to tarry and wait for them. They saw himin glimpses as he fled from one grassy patch to another, or burst out ofa leafy thicket, the great beard streaming over his shoulders likestudding-sails, the red turban of calico a vivid blotch of color. 

Nimble as they were, however, they failed to overtake him. This wasbecause he was familiar with this landscape of bog and hummock and pineknoll. Jack Cockrell fell into a hidden quagmire and had to be fishedout by main strength. Bill Saxby was caught amidst the tenacious vines, like a bull by the horns, and old Trimble came a cropper in a patch ofsaw-tooth palmetto. They straggled to the nearest knoll after Blackbeardhad crossed it. Then he followed a ridge which led in the direction ofanother of these dry islands. 

The pursuers halted to gaze from this slight elevation. There was not asolitary glimpse of the crimson turban. Trimble Rogers plowed throughthe prickly ash, short of wind and temper, with the musket again readyfor action. His language was hot enough to flash the powder in the pan. 

"Lost him a'ready, ye lubbers, whilst I fetched up the rear?" hescolded. "Leave the old dog to find the trail. I be hanged if I take himalive for Stede Bonnet. What say, Bill? Skin and stuff him for atrophy----"

"First catch the slippery son o' Satan, " tartly answered Bill. "He hidesaway like a hare. You can track him, no doubt, Trimble, but the sun willbe down ere long. I'll not pass the night in this cursed puddle of aplace. "

Just then Jack Cockrell roved far enough to find on the knoll a smallpit freshly dug, with a spade and pick beside it. Like excited children, his two comrades ran to inspect the hole which Blackbeard's seamen haddug ready for the treasure chest. Then they scattered to explore theknoll in search of signs to indicate where previous hoards might havebeen buried. Trimble Rogers scouted like a red Indian, eager to findtraces of upturned earth, or the leaf mould disturbed, or marks of anaxe on the pine trees as symbols of secret guidance. It was a futilequest, possibly because the high spring tides, when swept by easterlygales, had now and then crept back from the coast to cover the knoll andobliterate man's handiwork. 

Like a hunter bewitched, the gray buccaneer was absorbed in this rarepastime until Bill Saxby exclaimed:

"Is there no wit in our addled pates? Quit this dashed folly! What ofthe treasure chest that was spilled from the boat?"

"It won't take wings. Wait a bit, " growled Trimble. "_Madre de Dios_, but there must be more of it here. This truant Cap'n Teach knew the roadwell. Did ye mark how he doubled for the knoll, like a fox to its hole?"

Jack Cockrell ended the argument when he spoke up, with a shamefacedair:

"We are three heartless men! One of the seamen is drowned, rest hissoul, and we could not save the poor wretch. But the other fellow wasstabbed and lies in the grass near the stream. For all we know, theremay be life in him. "

"Heartless? 'Tis monstrous of us, " cried Bill Saxby. "This greed forpirates' gold is like a poison. "

They hastened to retrace their steps. The wounded seaman was breathinghis last when they reached his side. They could not have prolonged hislife had they remained with him. Jack Cockrell stroked his damp foreheadand murmured:

"Farewell to ye, Jesse Strawn. Any message before you slip your cable?"

There was a faint whisper of:

"Scuppered, lad! Take warnin' and avast this cruel piratin' or you'llget it. A few words from the Bible 'ud ease me off. "

To Jack's amazement, the veteran sinner of the lot, old Trimble Rogers, fumbled in his breeches and withdrew a small book carefully wrapped incanvas. Solemnly he hooked behind his ears a pair of huge, horn-rimmedspectacles and knelt beside the dying pirate. In the manner of a priestthe buccaneer intoned a chapter of Holy Writ which he appeared to knowby rote. Then he said a prayer in a powerful broken voice. Silencefollowed. The others waited with bared heads until Trimble said:

"His soul has passed. Shall we give the poor lad a decent burial?"

"His grave is ready. He helped dig it himself, " said Bill Saxby. "Andmay his ghost be a torment to the fiend that slew him. "

It seemed a fitting suggestion. In the freshly made treasure pit on theknoll they laid the dead pirate and used the spade to cover him. JackCockrell had a sheath knife with which he fashioned a rude cross andhacked on it:

 JESSE STRAWN A. D. 1718

"Aye, his ghost will flit to plague this Cap'n Teach, " said TrimbleRogers. "We can leave Jesse Strawn to square his own account. Now forthe sea-chest, though I misdoubt we can fish it up. "

CHAPTER X

THE SEA URCHIN AND THE CARPENTER'S MATE

FOR the sake of a treasure sordid and blood-stained, it would seemshabby to overlook the fate of hapless Joe Hawkridge marooned along withthe hands of the _Revenge_ who were suspected of plotting mutiny. Hisbehavior was courageous and unselfish, for he could have fled back intothe swamp when Blackbeard's wily attack threw the camp into tumult. Froma sense of duty he flung himself into the fray. What friends he had inthe ship were those of the decenter sort who were tired of wantonbrutalities and of a master who was no better than a lunatic. 

When the sloop opened fire with her guns, it was time to surrender. Unhurt save for a few scratches and a gorgeous black eye, Joe wasdragged to the beach and thrown into a boat. Promptly the armed pinnacetook them in tow, as arranged beforehand. Several of the prisoners hadvisited this rendezvous at Cherokee Inlet during a previous cruise andhad some knowledge of the lay of the coast. Five or six miles out werecertain shoals of sand scarcely lifted above high tide, so desolate thatnothing whatever grew upon them nor was there any means of obtainingfresh water. 

"A pretty fancy, --to cast us where he can enjoy the sight of it when theship sails out, " said one of them who held a wounded comrade in hisarms. 

"Some trading vessel may sight us in the nick o' time, " hopefullysuggested Joe. "Never say die!"

"Trust most honest skippers to give the Inlet a wide berth, " was thelugubrious reply. "This harbor was used by pirates afore Blackbeard'stime. I was a silly 'prentice-boy, same as you, Joe, wi' Cap'n WillumKidd when we lay in here to caulk his galley for the long voyage toMadagascar. "

"A poor figger of a pirate was that same Kidd, " spoke up another. "Hene'er scuttled a ship nor fought an action. An' his treasure was all inmy eye. What did he swing for, at Execution Dock? For crackin' the skullof his gunner with a wooden bucket. "

"They can't h'ist this Cap'n Teach to the same gibbet any too soon toplease me, Sam, " croaked a horse-faced rogue with two fingers choppedoff. "He's gone and murdered all us men, as sure as blazes. "

Joe Hawkridge held his peace and wondered what had become of hispartner, Jack Cockrell, waiting alone in the pirogue. In the infernalcommotion at the camp, Joe had failed to note whether Bill Saxby andTrimble Rogers had betaken themselves off or had been among thosekilled. There was the faint hope that these trusty messengers might findtheir way back to Captain Stede Bonnet's ship and so hasten his coming. 

The boats crept over the burnished surface of the harbor and passed thenearest islands which were green and wooded. Beyond them shone thegently heaving sea, with the distant gleam of a patch of sandy shoalringed about with a necklace of surf. It was remote enough from anyother land to daunt the strongest swimmer. The boats kept on until theyhad rounded to leeward of this ghastly prison. There was no means ofresistance. The captives were driven ashore by force of arms, carrying afew of their wounded with them. 

With emotions beyond the power of speech, they stared at the pinnace asthe oars splashed on the return journey to the _Revenge_. Joe Hawkridgewept a little, perplexed that men could be so cruel to their ownshipmates. And yet what could be expected of pirates debased enough tobe Blackbeard's loyal followers? Recovering from their first stupor, thetwenty able-bodied survivors began to ransack the strip of naked sand onwhich they had been marooned. It was no more than an acre in extent. Afew small fish were found in a pool left by the falling tide and perhapsa hundred turtle eggs were uncovered during the afternoon. This merelypostponed starvation. 

There was not much bickering. In the shadow of certain death, theseoutlaws of the sea seemed to have acquired a spirit of resignation whichwas akin to dignity. They had lost the game. In their own lingo, it wasthe black spot for all hands of 'em. With the coolness of night theyrevived to bathe in the surf which made their thirst less hard to bear. There was not much sleep. Men walked in restless circles, looking up atthe stars, muttering to themselves, or scanning the sea which had knowntheir crimes and follies. 

[Illustration: THEY CAPERED AND HUGGED EACH OTHER]

Joe Hawkridge scooped out a bed for himself in the sand and dropped offto sleep by spells, with dreams of ease and quiet ashore and learning tobe a gentleman. It was daylight when shouts startled him. The otherderelicts were in a frenzy of agitation. They capered and hugged eachother, and made unearthly sounds. Joe brushed the sand from his eyes andsaw a small vessel approaching the tiny island. Her rig was made out tobe that of a snow, which was very like a brig, the difference being inthe larger main-topsail and the absence of a spanker or aftersteering-sail. 

Such trading craft as this snow came coasting down from Salem and otherNew England ports to Virginia and the Carolinas laden with molasses, rum, salt, cider, mackerel, woodenware, Muscavado sugar, and driedcodfish. They bartered for return cargoes and carried no specie, wherefore pirates like Stede Bonnet seldom molested them excepting totake such stores as might be needed and sometimes actually to pay forthem. They were the prey of miscreants of Blackbeard's stripe whodestroyed and slew for the pleasure of it. 

This trim little snow was making to the southward in fancied security, having picked up a landfall, as the marooned pirates conjectured. Nodoubt her master had failed to receive warning that Blackbeard was inthese waters and he was running his risk of encountering othermarauders. He must have seen that there were people in distress on thetide-washed strip of sand. The snow shifted her helm and fired a gun. The marooned wretches could scarce credit their amazing good fortune buta grave, slow-spoken fellow who had been a carpenter's mate in the_Revenge_ thought the rejoicing premature. 

"When that God-fearin' skipper takes a look at us, he will sheer off andclap on sail, lads. For shipwrecked sailors you are a pizen lot o' mugs. The only blighted one of ye what's the leastwise respectable is me. "

Here was a terrible misgiving which clouded the bright anticipations. They were, indeed, an unlovely cargo for the little trading vessel totake on board. One of them whipped out a pair of scissors and hastilysawed at his unkempt whiskers while his comrades stood in line andwaited their turn. Others discarded gaudy kerchiefs and pistol-belts, orkicked off Spanish jack-boots. Scraps of gold lace were also unpopular. But they could not get rid of scarred faces and rum-reddened noses andthe other hall-marks of their trade. 

To their immense relief, the snow displayed no signs of alarm but sailedas close as the shoaling water permitted and dipped her colors. Thepirates flattered themselves that they were not as frightful as thecarpenter's mate had painted them. And this New England shipmaster wasa merciful man who would not leave his fellow mortals to perish. Theysaw a boat lowered from the snow and into it jumped half a dozensailors, soberly clad in dungaree, with round straw hats on their heads. With a gush of gratitude, the pirates swore to deal courteously by thesenoble merchant mariners and to repay them in whatever manner possible. 

Out into the murmuring surf rushed the mild-mannered rascals, eager tograsp the boat and haul it up. It was Joe Hawkridge, hovering in thebackground, who raised the first cry of astonishment. His voice was soaffrighted that it quavered. Before the boat was half-way from thevessel, he perceived that these were no sedate seamen from theMassachusetts Colony, even though they were in dungaree and round strawhats. He was gazing at some of Ned Rackham's evil pirates whom he hadlast beheld on the shattered deck of the _Plymouth Adventure_ where theyhad been left to build a raft for themselves!

The devil had looked after his own. They had floated away from thestranded ship and instead of landing on the beach had been rescued bythis unfortunate snow whose crew had been disposed of in some violentmanner. This much Joe Hawkridge comprehended, although his mind wasawhirl. He was better off marooned. He had helped to turn the guns ofthe _Plymouth Adventure_ against these very same men when they had beenblown out of the after cabin and the ship retaken by Captain JonathanWellsby. 

Whatever other plans they had in store, the first business would be tokill Joe Hawkridge. This was painfully obvious. He retreated stillfarther behind his companions and had a confused idea of digging intothe sand and burying himself from view. The discovery that these wereBlackbeard's pirates in the boat created general confusion but there wasno fear of instant death. It was a situation excessively awkward for themarooned company but nevertheless open to parley and argument. 

By hurried agreement, the carpenter's mate, Peter Tobey by name, waschosen as spokesman. Before he began to talk with the men in the boat, Joe Hawkridge called to him in piteous accents and begged him to stepback in rear of the crowd for a moment. Tobey shouted to the boat towait outside the surf and not attempt a landing. 

"What's the row, Joe?" he asked, with a kindly smile. "'Tis adisappointment for all of us, --this tangle with Rackham's crew, --but whyany worse for you?"

"I can't tell it all, Peter, but my life is forfeit once they lay handson me. "

"What tarradiddle is this? As I remember it in the _Revenge_, when allhands of us were cruisin' together, ye had no mortal enemies. "

"It happened in the _Plymouth Adventure_, " answered Joe. "There be menin yon boat that 'ud delight in flayin' me alive. I swear it, Peter, bymy mother's name. Give me up, and my blood is on your head. "

The boy's words carried conviction. The stolid carpenter's mate ponderedand knitted his bushy brows. 

"I never did a wilful murder yet, " said he. "Mallet and chisel comereadier to my fist than a cutlass. Bide here, Joe. Let me get mybearings. This has the look of a ticklish matter for the lot of us. Ishall be keepin' a weather eye lifted for squalls. "

In mortal fear of discovery by the men in the boat, Joe flattenedhimself behind a palmetto log which had drifted to the other side of theisland. Here he was hidden unless the boat should make a landing. Thecarpenter's mate waded out to join his companions who were amiablyconversing with Ned Rackham's pirates. They had all been shipmateseither in the _Revenge_ or the _Triumph_ sloop and there was boisterouscuriosity concerning the divers adventures while they had been apart. Rackham's crew had been reduced to eighteen men when they were luckyenough to capture the snow, it was learned. With this small company hedared not go pirating on his own account and so had decided to rejoinBlackbeard. 

"Is Ned Rackham aboard the snow?" asked Peter Tobey of the boat'scoxswain. 

"He is all o' that, matey, though the big bos'n of the _PlymouthAdventure_ shoved a knife in his ribs to the hilt. He is flat in a bunkbut he gives the orders an' it's jump at the word. "

"A hard man to kill, " said Peter Tobey. "Take me aboard. 'Tis best Ihave speech with him. Let the people wait here on the cay. They canstand another hour of it. "

There was fierce protest among the marooned pirates but the carpenter'smate gruffly demanded to know if they wished to be carried into theharbor and turned over to Blackbeard. This gave the mob something tothink about and they permitted the boat to pull away from them withoutmuch objection. 

"A rough joke on you lads, I call it, to be dumped on this bit o'purgatory, " said the coxswain to Peter Tobey. "The great Cap'n Teachmust ha' been in one of his tantrums. "

"It had been long brewing, as ye know, " answered the carpenter's mate. "These men with you in the snow 'ud sooner follow Ned Rackham, flint-hearted though he be, than to rejoin the _Revenge_. "

"Not so loud, " cautioned the coxswain. "We'll see which way the cat isgoing to jump. Us poor devils is sore uneasy at findin' how you weredealt with. "

"What of the master and crew of the snow?" asked Tobey. "Were theysnuffed out? That 'ud be Rackham's way. "

"No, we set 'em off in a boat, within sight of the coast. Ned Rackhamwas too shrewd to bloody his hands, bein' helpless in this tub of a snowwhich could neither fight nor show her heels if she was chased. "

Few men as there were aboard the snow, they were smartly disciplined andkept things shipshape, as Peter Tobey noted when he climbed on deck. Afew minutes later he was summoned into the small cabin. Propped up inthe skipper's berth, Sailing-Master Ned Rackham had a pinched andghastly look. He was a young man, with clean-cut, handsome features, anda certain refinement of manner when he cared to assume it. The rumor wasthat he was the black sheep of an English house of some distinction andthat he had enlisted in the Royal Navy under a false name. 

"What is this mare's-nest, my good Tobey?" said he as the carpenter'smate stood diffidently fumbling with his cap. "Marooned? Twenty men ofyou on a reef of sand? Were ye naughty boys whilst I was absent?"

"No more than them I could name who planned to go a-cruisin' in the_Plymouth Adventure_, " doggedly replied Peter Tobey who resented thetone of sneering patronage. 

"Fie, fie! You talk boldly for a man in your situation. Never mind! Whythe honor of this visit?"

"To make terms, Master Rackham. If us twenty men consent to serveyou----"

"You babble of terms?" was the biting interruption. "I can leave you toperish on the sand, as ye no doubt deserve, or I can carry you in withme, when I report to Captain Teach. "

"But there's another choice, which hasn't escaped you, " persisted theintrepid carpenter's mate. "Enlist us in your service and you'll havenigh on forty men. This snow mounts a few old swivels and you must ha'found muskets in her. With forty men, Master Rackham, there's nooccasion to bow to Blackbeard's whimsies. You can h'ist the Jolly Rogerfor yourself and lay 'longside a bigger ship to take and cruise in. I'veheard tell of a great buccaneer that started for himself in a pinnaceand captured a galleon as tall as a church. "

Ned Rackham's eyes flashed. Indeed, this was what he had in mind. Thisscore of recruits would make the venture worth undertaking. Men wereessential. Given enough of them to handle the snow and a boarding partybesides, and he would not hesitate to shift helm and bear away to seaagain. 

"You will sign articles, then?" he demanded. 

"Aye, I can speak for all, Master Rackham. What else is there for us?Hold fast, I would except one man. He must be granted safe conduct, onyour sacred honor. "

"His name, Tobey?"

"That matters not. Pledge me first. He has no more stomach for piracyand will be set ashore at some port. "

"A pig in a poke?" cried Rackham, with an ugly smile. "If I refuse, what?"

"You will have sulky men that may turn against you some day. "

"And I can leave you to rot where you are, with your nonsense of 'makingterms, '" was the harsh rejoinder. 

"But you won't do that, " argued Peter Tobey. "Your own fortune hangs onenlisting us twenty lads. You bear Blackbeard no more love than we do. "

Ned Rackham was making no great headway with this stubborn carpenter'smate who was playing strong cards of his own. 

"A drawn bout, Tobey, " said he, with a change of front. "No more backingand filling. You ask a small favor. Fetch your man along, whoever he maybe. He shall be done no harm by me. "

"Even though he made a mortal enemy of you, Master Rackham?"

"Enough, Peter. I have many enemies and scores to settle. You have myassurance but I demand the lad's name. "

"Not without his permission, " declared Tobey. "Set me ashore and I willconfer with him. "

Grudgingly Rackham consented, unwilling to have a hitch in thenegotiations. In a somber humor, the carpenter's mate returned to hisimpatient comrades on the island. They crowded about him and he brieflydelivered the message, that they were desired to cruise under NedRackham's flag. This delighted them, as the only way out of a fataldilemma. Then Tobey went over to sit down upon the palmetto log behindwhich Joe Hawkridge still sprawled like a turtle. The anxious boy pokedup his head to say:

"What cheer, Peter? A plaguey muddle you found it, I'll bet. "

"Worse'n that, Joe. Rackham wouldn't clinch it with his oath unless Itold him your name. I plead with him for safe conduct. "

"I'd not trust his oath on a stack o' Bibles, once he set eyes on me, "exclaimed Joe. "As soon put my fist to my own death warrant as go aboardwith him. "

"That may be, " said Peter Tobey, "but you will have friends. You can'texpect us to refuse to sail on account o' you. "

"Leave me here, then, " cried the boy. "I'll not call it deserting me. Take your men aboard the snow. Tell Ned Rackham you have the fellowamongst 'em who implored the safe conduct. Pick out some harmless ladthat was saucy to Rackham in the _Revenge_, a half-wit like thatRobinson younker that was the sailing-master's own cabin boy. He wasallus blubberin' that Rackham 'ud kill him some day. "

"No half-wit about you, " admiringly quoth the carpenter's mate. "But, harkee, Joe, you will die in slow misery. Better a quick bullet fromRackham's pistol. "

"Find some way to send off a little food and water, Peter, and I willset tight on this desert island. And mayhap you will dance at the endof a rope afore I shuffle off. "

"A hard request, Joe, " replied the puzzled Tobey. "Unless I can come offagain with some of our own men, how can it be done? Let Rackham's crewsuspect I am leaving a man behind and they will rout you out. "

"And they all love me, like a parson loves a pirate, " grinned Joe. "Ishot 'em full of spikes and bolts from a nine-pounder in the _PlymouthAdventure_. "

"I shall use my best endeavor, so help me, " sighed Peter Tobey. "Whatfor did I ever quit carpenterin' to go a-piratin'? 'Tis the worst basketof chips that ever was. "

"No sooner do I crawl out of one hole than I tumble into another, " verytruthfully observed Joe Hawkridge. "Insomuch as I've allus crawled out, you and me'll shed no more tears, Peter. There's a kick in me yet. "

The disconsolate carpenter's mate returned to his fellow pirates andbade them go off to the snow. First, however, he extracted from everyman the solemn promise that he would not divulge the secret of JoeHawkridge's presence nor reveal the fact that he had remained behind. They were eager to promise anything. Several of them stole over to tellhim furtive farewells. They displayed no great emotion. The trade theyfollowed was not apt to make them turn soft over such a tragic episodeas this. 

When the snow was ready to take her departure, with almost fortyseasoned pirates to seek their fortunes anew, the wind died to a calmand the little vessel drifted within easy vision of the sandy islandthrough a long afternoon. Peter Tobey tormented himself to find somepretext for smuggling food and water ashore. He invented a tale of aprecious gold snuff-box which must have fallen out of his pocket andbegged permission to go and search for it. But Ned Rackham sent up wordthat he had no notion of being delayed by a fool's errand, should abreeze spring up. He was not at all anxious to linger so close toCherokee Inlet whence Blackbeard might sight the spars of the snow andperhaps weigh anchor in the _Revenge_. 

Soon after dark the sails filled with a soft wind which drew the snowclear of the coast. Peter Tobey had been mightily busy with an emptycask. In it he stowed meat and biscuit and a bag of onions, stealthilyabstracted from the storeroom while his own companions stood guardagainst surprise. This stuff was packed around two jugs of water tightlystoppered. Then Peter headed up the cask with professional skill andwatched the opportunity to lower it from the vessel's bow where he wasunseen. 

The wind and tide were favorable to carrying the cask in the directionof the little patch of sea-washed sand upon which was marooned thesolitary young mariner, Joe Hawkridge. The carpenter's mate saw the caskdrift past the side of the snow and roll in the silvery wake. Slowly itvanished in the darkness and he said to himself, in a prayer devoutlyearnest:

"That boy deserves a slant o' luck, and may the good God let him have itthis once. Send the cask to the beach, and I vow to go a-piratin' neveragain. "

CHAPTER XI

JACK JOURNEYS AFOOT

IT is often said that a thing is not lost if you know where it is. Thiswas Jack Cockrell's opinion concerning that weighty sea-chest which hadsplashed to the bottom of the sluggish stream in the heart of theCherokee swamp. With young Bill Saxby and eager old Trimble Rogers hehastened from the grave of the pirate seaman whom they had buried on theknoll and fetched up at the shore where the pirogue had been left. Beside it floated Blackbeard's boat filled with water. 

Having cut two or three long poles, they sounded the depth and proddedin the muddy bed to find the treasure chest. It had sunk no more thaneight feet below the surface, as the tide then stood, which was not muchover the head of a tall man. The end of a pole struck something solid, after considerable poking about. It was not rough, like a sunken log, and further investigation with the poles convinced them that they werethumping the lid of the chest. 

"D'ye suppose you could muster breath to dive and bend a line to one o'the handles, Master Cockrell?" suggested Trimble Rogers. "Here's a coilof stout stuff in Cap'n Teach's boat what he used for a painter. "

"The bottom of the creek is too befouled, " promptly objected Jack, "andI confess it daunts me to think of meeting that drownded corpse downthere. Try it yourself, if you like. "

"I be needed above water to handle the musket if Blackbeard sneaks backto bang at us with his pistols, " was the evasive reply. The mention ofthe corpse had given old Trimble a distaste for the task. To hispetulant question, Bill Saxby protested that he couldn't swim a blessedstroke and he sensibly added:

"What if you did get a rope's end belayed to a handle of the chest? Evenif the strain didn't part the line, we couldn't heave away in this tipsycanoe. And I am blamed certain we can't drag the chest ashore lackin'purchase and tackles. "

"The smell o' treasure warps my judgment, " grumpily confessed TrimbleRogers. "We ain't properly rigged to h'ist that chest from where shelays, and that's the fact. "

"Give us the gear and we'd have it out and cracked open as pretty as youplease, " said Bill. "Set up a couple o' spars for shears, stay 'em fromthe bank, rig double blocks, and grapplin' irons for a diver to workwith----"

"Which is exactly what Cap'n Teach will be doin' of when he finds hisship again, " lamented the buccaneer. 

"He will be some time findin' his ship afoot, " grimly chuckled Bill. "We have naught to smash his boat with, but we'll just take it alongwith us. "

"If we make haste to report to Captain Stede Bonnet, " spoke up JackCockrell, "he may make sail in time to give Blackbeard other things tothink on than this treasure chest. And it is my notion that the need offitting the _Revenge_ for action is too urgent to spare a crew toattempt this errand. "

"We shall have it yet, " cried Trimble, much consoled. "And StedeBonnet'll blithely furnish the men and gear. For a mere babe, MasterCockrell, ye leak wisdom like a colander. Our duty is to tarry no longerat this mad business. "

"The first sound word I've heard out of the old barnacle, eh, Jack?"said Bill Saxby. "We must be out of this swamp by night and layin' acourse for Cap'n Bonnet and the _Royal James_. "

"Whilst you empty Blackbeard's boat of water so we can tow it, let memake a rude chart, " was Jack's happy idea. "Some mishap or other mayovertake us ere we get the chance to seek the treasure again. And ourown memory of this pest-hole of a swamp may trick us. "

Bill Saxby's tattered diary supplied a scrap of paper and Jack dugcharred splinters from the inside of the canoe which enabled him to drawa charcoal sketch or map. It traced the smaller stream from the forkwhere it had branched off, the stretch in which it widened like a tinylagoon or bayou, and the point of shore just beyond which the piroguehad unexpectedly rammed Blackbeard's boat. A cross designated the spotwhere the treasure chest had sunk in eight feet of water. 

The knoll and the grave of Seaman Jesse Strawn were also indicated, withthe distance estimated in paces and the bearings set down by theposition of the sun. 

"There, " said Jack, well pleased with his handiwork, "and once we areaboard ship, I can make fair copies on parchment, one for each of us. "

"Thankee, lad, " gratefully exclaimed Trimble Rogers who now hadsomething to live for. "'Twas a fond dream o' mine, when I sailed wi'the great Cap'n Edward Davis in the South Sea, some day to blink at achart what showed where the gold was hid. "

They were, indeed, recovered from the intoxication of treasure andrecalled to realizing the obligation that was upon them. They hadswerved from it but now they pressed forward to finish the appointedjourney. The canoe moved down to the fork of the waters with the lightcock-boat skittering in its wake and perhaps the unhappy Blackbeard, stranded in the swamp, hurled after them a volley of those curses forwhich he was renowned. Once Jack Cockrell laughed aloud, explaining tohis laboring comrades:

"Captain Teach will be combing the burrs from his grand beard when heboards his ship again. He may get hung by the chin in a thicket. "

"He's sure to spend this night in the swamp, blast him, " earnestlyobserved Bill, "and the mosquitoes'll riddle his hide. "

"And may Jesse Strawn lose no time in hauntin' him, " said TrimbleRogers. 

There was an hour of daylight to spare when they had ascended the largercreek as far as the canoe could be paddled. There they disembarked andhid the dugout and the cock-boat in the overhanging bushes where theycould be found again in case of a forced retreat. Bill and Jack burdenedthemselves with the sack of food and the water jug while the oldbuccaneer set out in the lead as a guide. It was irksome progress for atime, but gradually the ground became drier and the foliage was moreopen. Dusk found them safely emerged from the great Cherokee swamp andin a pleasant forest of long-leaf pine with a carpet of brown needles. 

In fear of Indians, they dared not kindle a fire and so stretchedthemselves in their wet and muddy rags and slept like dead men. Whatawakened Jack Cockrell before sunrise was a series of groans fromTrimble Rogers who sat with his back against a tree while he rubbed hislegs. Ashamed at being heard, he grumpily explained:

"Cord and faggot 'ud torment me no worse than this hell-begottenrheumatism. I be free of it in a ship but the land reeks with foulvapors. It hurt me cruel at Cartagena in the year of----"

"But can you walk all day, in such misery as that?" anxiouslyinterrupted Jack. 

"If not, I'll make shift to crawl, " said the old sea dog. 

It was apparent to Jack and also to Bill Saxby that the ordeal of theswamp had crippled their companion whose bodily strength had beenovertaxed. They debated whether to try to return to the coast and risk avoyage in the canoe but Trimble Rogers swore by all the saints in thecalendar that he was done with the pestilent swamp. He would push on inspite of the rheumatism. His hardy spirit was unbroken. And so theyresumed the march, the suffering buccaneer hobbling with the musket as astaff or with a strong arm supporting him. 

Halts were frequent and progress very slow. Now and then they hadglimpses of the blue sea and so knew that they held the course true. Ithad been reckoned that two days would suffice to bring them to the bayin which Stede Bonnet's ship was anchored. By noon of this first day, however, it was plainly evident that Trimble Rogers was done for. Heuttered no complaints, and withheld the groans behind his set teeth, buthis lank body was a-tremble with pain and fatigue. Whenever he sank downto rest they had to raise him up and set him on his legs again before hecould totter a little way farther. 

"What say, Jack, to slingin' him on a pole, neck and heels?" suggestedBill Saxby. "Can we make him fast with our belts?"

"And choke him to death? In Charles Town I saw Captain Bonnet's piratescarry their wounded in litters woven of boughs. "

The suffering Trimble put a stop to this by shouting:

"Avast wi' the maunderin' nonsense! Push on, lads, and leave this oldhulk be. Many a goodly man have I seen drop in the jungle. What mattersit? Speed ye to Cap'n Bonnet. "

"Here is one pirate that won't desert a shipmate, " declared Bill Saxby. "And how can we push on without you, old True-Penny, to lay your nose tothe trail? I took no heed o' the marks and landfalls. "

"Like a sailor ashore, mouth open and eyes shut, " rasped the buccaneerof Hispaniola. 

"Methinks I might find my way in this Carolina country, " ventured JackCockrell. "It would be easier for a landsman like myself than for Billwho is city-bred and a seaman besides. "

"More wisdom from the stripling, " said Trimble. "Willing as I be to diesooner than delay ye and so vex Stede Bonnet, it 'ud please me to liveto overhaul that sea chest of Blackbeard's. "

"I'll stand by this condemned old relic, " amiably agreed Bill Saxby. "Doyou request Cap'n Bonnet to send a party to salvage us, Jack. "

"He will take pleasure in it, Bill. Before I go let me help you findshelter, --dry limbs for props and a thatch of palmetto leaves. "

"Take no thought of us, " urged Trimble. "Trust me to set this lazy oafto work. Now listen, Jack, and carefully. Cap'n Bonnet's ship waits inthe Cape Fear River, twelve leagues to the north'ard of us. You willfind her betwixt a bay of the mainland and a big-sized island where theriver makes in from the sea. There will be a lookout kept and I can tellye where to meet a boat. "

With a memory as retentive as a printed page, the keen-eyed old wandererdescribed the landscape league by league, the streams and theirdirection, the hills which were prominent, the broad stretches ofsavannah or grassy meadow, the belts of pine forest, the tongues ofswamp which had to be avoided. Jack was compelled to repeat the detailedinstructions over and over, and he was a far more studious pupil thanwhen snuffy Parson Throckmorton had rapped his knuckles and fired himwith rebellious dreams of piracy. At length, the buccaneer was willingto acknowledge:

"Unless an Indian drive an arrow through the lad's brisket, Bill, I cantrust him to find our ship. Best give him the musket. "

"Me shoulder that carronade and trudge a dozen leagues?" objected Jack. "I travel light and leave the ordnance with you. "

They insisted on his taking more than a third of the food but herefused to deprive them of the water jug. There would be streams enoughto slake his thirst. It was an affectionate parting. Bill Saxby'sinnocent blue eyes were suffused and his chubby face sorrowful at thethought that they might not meet again. Trimble Rogers fished out hisbattered little Bible and quoted a few verses, as appeared to be hishabit on all solemn occasions. Jack Cockrell knew him well enough by nowto find it not incongruous. Among this vanishing race of sea fightershad been many a hero of the most fervent piety. Their spirit was akin tothat of Francis Drake who summoned his crew to prayers before he clearedfor action. 

And in this wise did Master Jack Cockrell set out to bear a message fromcomrades in dire distress. Moreover, in his hands were the lives of JoeHawkridge and those other marooned seamen, as he had every reason tobelieve. It was a grave responsibility to be thrust upon a raw lad inhis teens who had been so carefully nurtured by his fretful guardian ofan uncle, Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes. Jack thought of this and said tohimself, with a smile:

"A few weeks gone, and I was locked in my room without any dinner forloitering with Stede Bonnet's pirates at the Charles Town tavern. Myeducation has been swift since then. "

He was expectant of meeting no end of peril and hardship and he foughtdown a sense of dread that was not to his discredit. But it was sodecreed that he should pass secure and unmolested. At first he went toofast, without husbanding his strength, and loped along like a houndwhenever the country was clear of brushwood. This wore him down and hefailed to watch carefully enough for his landmarks. Toward the end ofthe day he became confused because he could not discern the sea even byclimbing a tree. But he tried to keep bearing to the northeast until thesun went down. Afraid of losing himself entirely and ignorant of the layof the land by night, he made his bivouac in a grove of sycamoresaplings and imagined Indians were creeping up whenever the leavesrustled. 

This fear of roaming savages troubled him next day as he wearily trudgedthrough this primeval wilderness unknown to white settlers. It spurredhim on despite his foot-sore fatigue and he was making the journey morerapidly than old Trimble Rogers, for all his cunning woodcraft, had beenable to accomplish it. Almost at the end of his endurance, the pluckylad discerned the sheen of a broad water in the twilight and so came tothe Cape Fear River. 

He had worried greatly lest he might have veered too far inland butthere was the wooded bay and the fore-land crowned with dead pines whichhad been swept by forest fire. And out beyond it was the island, of thesize and shape described by Trimble Rogers, making a harbor from the seawhich rolled to the horizon rim. 

But no tall brig, nor any other vessel rode at anchor in this silent andlonely haven. Jack had been told precisely where to look for it. He hadmade no mistake. Some emergency had caused Captain Stede Bonnet to makesail and away. 

A king's ship or some other hostile force might have compelled him toslip his cable in haste, reflected Jack as he descended to the shore ofthe bay. It was most unlike the chivalrous Stede Bonnet to abandon twoof his faithful seamen without an effort to succor them. Endeavoring tocomfort himself with this surmise, the sorely disappointed boy paced thesand far into the night and gazed in vain for the glimmer of a fire orthe spark of a signal lantern in a ship's rigging. He could not bear tothink of the dark prospect should no help betide him. 

Some time before day he was between waking and sleeping when a queerdelusion distracted him. Humming in his ears was the refrain of a songwhich was both familiar and hauntingly pleasant. It seemed to charm awayhis poignant anxieties, to lull him with a feeling of safety. Hewondered if his troublesome adventures had made him light-headed. Hemoved not a muscle but listened to this phantom music and noted that itsounded louder and clearer instead of fading away. And still he refusedto believe that it was anything more than a drowsy mockery. 

At length a vagrant breeze brought him a snatch of this enjoyablechorus in deeper, stronger volume and he leaped to his feet with ashout. It was no hallucination. Lusty seamen were singing in time to thebeat of their oars, and Jack Cockrell knew it for the favorite song ofStede Bonnet's crew. He could distinguish the words as they rolled themout in buoyant, stentorian harmony:

 "An' when my precious leg was lopt, Just for a bit of fun I picks it up, on t'other hopt, An' rammed it in a gun. 'What's that for?' cries out Ginger Dick, 'What for? my jumpin' beau? Why, to give the lubbers one more kick, ' _Yo, ho, with the rum below!_"

CHAPTER XII

A PRIVATE ACCOUNT TO SETTLE

THE ship's boat was bound into the bay, probably to lie there fordaybreak, and Jack Cockrell rushed down to the beach where he set upsuch a frantic hullabaloo that the sailors ceased singing and held theirbreath and their oars suspended. They had come to look for Bill Saxbyand Trimble Rogers, but this was a strange voice. It was so odd acircumstance that several of them hailed the shore with questions loudand perplexed. 

"Master John Cockrell, at your service, " came back the reply. "CaptainBonnet knows me. I am the lad that clouted a six-foot pirate of yoursfor being saucy to a maid in Charles Town. "

This aroused a roar of laughter and there were gusty shouts of:

"Here's that same Will Brant in the boat with us. He shakes in his bootsat the sound of ye. "

"What's the game, lad? Have ye taken a ship of your own to scour theMain?"

Jack ignored this good-natured badinage and, in dignified accents, toldthem to come ashore and take him off to the _Royal James_. In thiscompany he had a reputation to live up to as a man of parts and valor. They let the boat ground on the smooth sand and one of them lighted atorch of pitch-pine splinters. The fine young gentleman who had strolledarm-in-arm with Stede Bonnet to the tavern green was a ragged scarecrowand bedaubed with red clay and black mud. This aroused their sympathybefore he told them of his escape from the _Revenge_ and his adventureswith Bill Saxby and the crippled buccaneer. In their turn they explainedhow Captain Bonnet had sent them down the river to await the return ofthe two men who were now stranded in the wilderness two days' marchdistant. 

"And why did your captain shift the brig from her anchorage off theisland?" asked Jack. 

This amused the boat's crew who nudged each other and were evasive untilthe master's mate who was in charge went far enough to say:

"A sloop came in from the Pamlico River. Our ship sought a snuggerharbor, d'ye see? There was some private business. We loaded the sloopwith hogshead of sugar, and bolts of damask, and silver ingots. HisExcellency, Governor Eden, of the North Carolina Province, turns anhonest penny now and then. "

"The Governor of this Province is a partner in piracy?" cried Jack. 

"Brawl it not so loud, nor spill it to Cap'n Bonnet, " cautioned themaster's mate. "I confide this much to stave off your foolish questionswhen ye board the ship. "

There was no reason to tarry in the bay and the boat pulled out tofollow the course of the river and return in haste to the brig _RoyalJames_ in her more secluded harbor. The news that Blackbeard was at hisold rendezvous within easy sail to the southward eclipsed all othertopics. And when it was learned that he had lost the two sloops of hissquadron, there was fierce delight. Although the _Revenge_ was a largervessel and more heavily manned and gunned, they were hilariouslyconfident of victory. It was a burning grudge and a private quarrel, andfuel was added to the flame by the tidings that a score or more ofseamen had been mercilessly marooned to perish because of theirsuspected preference for Captain Stede Bonnet. 

When Jack Cockrell caught sight of the shapely brig as she loomed in themorning haze, it seemed as though years had passed since he hadenviously watched her pass out over the Charles Town bar. Presently hespied the soldierly captain on the quarter-deck, his spare figure alltaut and erect, his chin clean-shaven, his queue powdered, his apparelfresh and in good taste. A ship is like her master and the watch wassluicing down decks or setting up the rigging which had slackened withthe heavy dew. Jack felt ashamed to let himself be seen. This was noplace for a ragamuffin. 

Captain Bonnet strode to the gangway and stared down at this bit ofhuman flotsam. He was quick to recognize his boyish friend and admirerand ordered the men to lower a boatswain's chair and lift MasterCockrell aboard. Jack was, indeed, so stiffened and sore and weary thathe had been wondering how he could climb the side of a ship. 

"Tut, tut, my son, bide your time, " exclaimed Stede Bonnet as they meton deck. "Tell it later. The master's mate will enlighten me. "

He led the way into the cabin which was in order and simply furnished. One servant brewed fragrant coffee from Arabia while another made a roomready for the guest and fetched clean clothing from the captain's chestsand a tub of hot water. And as soon as the grateful Master Cockrell hadmade himself presentable, he was invited to sit down at table with thecaptain and enjoy a meal of porridge and crisp English bacon and fresheggs from the ship's hen-coop in the long-boat and hot crumpets andmarmalade. And this after the pinched ration of mouldy salt-horse andwormy hard-bread! Captain Bonnet lighted a roll of tobacco leaves, whichhe called a _cigarro_, and puffed clouds of smoke while Master Cockrellcleaned every dish and lamented that his skin felt too tight to beginall over again. 

He was now in a mood to relate his strange yarn, from its outset in theill-fated merchant trader, _Plymouth Adventure_. Eagerly he beggedinformation concerning her people after their shipwreck, but CaptainBonnet had been cruising far offshore to intercept a convoy of richWest Indiamen from Jamaica for the old country. 

"I will make it my duty to set you ashore at Charles Town, Master Jack, "said he, "and I pray you may find your good uncle alive and still vowingto hang all rogues of pirates. "

"But I must sail with you, sir, till you have saved Joe Hawkridge andhis shipmates and blown Blackbeard out of water. "

"Rest easy on that, " exclaimed Stede Bonnet. "Those affairs are mosturgent. My ship will drop down the river to-day, with the turn o' thetide, and heave to long enough to land a party, six men, to go in searchof Trimble Rogers who is the apple of my eye. I shall not ask you tojoin them, but you can give directions and pen a fair map, I trow. "

"Gladly would I go, " replied Jack, "but my poor legs wobble like yourvaliant old buccaneer's. And my feet are raw. "

"You have proved yourself, " was the fine compliment. "I judged ye arightwhen we first met. "

Soon the deck above them resounded to the tramp of boots and the thumpof sheet-blocks as the brisk seamen made ready to cast the ship free. She was in competent hands and so Stede Bonnet lingered below to enjoytalking with the youth whose manners and breeding were like his own. Ina mood unusually confidential he confirmed Jack's earlier impressions, that he was a pirate with a certain code of honor which reminded one ofRobin Hood of Sherwood Forest who robbed the rich and befriended thepoor. Touching on his mortal quarrel with Blackbeard, he revealed howthat traitorous ruffian had proposed a partnership while he, StedeBonnet, was a novice at the trade. The plot all hatched to take Bonnet'sfine ship, the _Revenge_, from him, Blackbeard had disclosed his hand atthe final conference when he said, with a sarcastic grimace:

"I see, my good sir, that you are not used to the cares and duties ofcommanding a vessel, so I will relieve you of 'em. "

As soon as Captain Bonnet had mended his fortunes and had the goodlybrig _Royal James_ to cruise in, his ruling purpose was to regain the_Revenge_ from Blackbeard and at the same time wreak a properpunishment. 

"So now if we can trap this black-hearted Teach before he flits to sea, "said Stede Bonnet, "you will see a pretty engagement, Master Cockrell. But first we must find the score o' men that he marooned. It will be adeed of mercy, besides affording me a stronger crew. "

The brig was soon standing down the river while the landing party brokeout an ample store of provisions and powder and ball, with canvas for atent. The plan was for them to pitch a camp near the shore of the bay towhich they could fetch back Trimble Rogers and Bill Saxby and there waitfor their ship to return and take them off. They were ready to go ashorewhen Captain Bonnet's navigator ordered the main-topsail laid aback andthe brig slowly swung into the wind. The delay was brief and no soonerwas the boat cast off than the _Royal James_ proceeded on the voyage toCherokee Inlet. 

Clumsy as those sailing ships of two hundred years ago appear to moderneyes, their lines were finely moulded under water and with a favoringwind they could log a fair distance in a day's run. It goes withoutsaying that this tall brig was shoved along for all she was worth beforea humming breeze that made her creak, and during the night she wasreckoned to be a few miles to seaward of the sandy islands whichextended like a barrier outside of Cherokee Inlet. Jack Cockrell stood awatch of his own, dead weary but with no thought of sleep until he couldhear the lookout shout "Land ho!"

This cry came from aloft soon after dawn. The brig moved toward thenearest of these exposed shoals while her officers consulted a chartspread upon the cabin roof. They were wary of running the ship agroundwith Blackbeard no more than a few miles distant. So bare were theseyellow patches of sand that showed against the green water that a groupof men on any one of them would have been easily discernible. The _RoyalJames_ coasted along outside of them under shortened sail but discoverednothing to indicate a party of marooned seamen. 

"But they must be out here somewhere, " cried Jack Cockrell, in greatdistress. 

"They ought to be, for no trading vessel would take 'em off, " repliedthe puzzled Captain Bonnet. "And if they were towed out in boats as yesay, Jack, these islands must ha' been where they were beached. "

"But you won't give up the search, sir, without another tack past thoseoutermost shoals?"

"Oh, we shall rake them all, but Blackbeard may have changed thatcrotchety mind of his and taken the men back to his ship. "

"I fear I have seen the last of my dear Joe Hawkridge, " exclaimed Jack. 

"From what you tell me, the young scamp is not so easily disposed of, "smiled Captain Bonnet. "I must haul out to sea ere long. 'Tis poorbusiness to let Blackbeard glimpse my spars and so take warning. "

This was sad news and Jack walked away to hide his quivering lip. Toexamine the islands again was a forlorn hope because already it seemedcertain that nothing alive moved on any of them. The brig passed themcloser than before as she made a long reach before turning out to sea. It was the intention to sail in to engage Blackbeard very early the nextmorning and meanwhile he would be vigilantly blockaded. 

Even Jack Cockrell, hopeful to the last, was compelled to agree with thecrew of the brig that not a solitary man could be seen on these sea-girtcays and it seemed useless to send off a boat to explore them one byone. There would have been some stir or signal, even if men were tooweak to stand. The air was clear and from the brig's masts it waspossible to sweep every foot of sandy surface. Here was another mysteryof the sea. It occurred to Stede Bonnet to ask:

"You took it for granted they were marooned, Jack, when the boats passedfrom your sight and you were hidden in the tree in the swamp. What if aquicker death were dealt 'em?"

"That may be, sir. "

The brig was leaving the coast astern. Jack moped by himself until hiscuriosity was drawn to a group of seamen upon the forecastle head whowere talking loudly and pointing at something in the water, well aheadof the ship. One vowed it was a big sea-turtle asleep, another waswilling to wager his silver-mounted pistols that it was a rum barrel, while a third announced that he'd stake his head on its being a mermaidor her husband. The after-deck brought a spy-glass to bear and perceivedthat the thing was splashing about. The tiller was shifted to bring itclose aboard and soon Captain Bonnet exclaimed that it was, indeed, amerman a-cruising with a cask!

Jack Cockrell scampered to the heel of the bowsprit to investigate thisocean prodigy. And as the cask drifted nearer he saw that Joe Hawkridgewas clinging to it. There was no mistaking that dauntless grin and themop of carroty hair. A handy seaman tossed a bight of line over hisshoulders as he bobbed past the forefoot of the brig and he was yankedbodily over the bulwark like a strange species of fish. Flopping on deckhe waved a skinny arm in greeting and then Jack Cockrell rushed at him, lifted him bodily, and dragged him to the cabin. 

"What ho, comrade!" said the dripping merman. "Blast my eyes, but I wassick with worry for you. I left you in that swamp----"

"And I thought you dead, Joe. For the love o' heaven, tell me how youfared and what----"

Captain Bonnet interfered to say:

"I treated you more courteously than this, Jack. Let us make himcomfortable. "

Accepting the rebuke, Jack bustled his amazing friend into a change ofclothes and saw that he was well fed. Little the worse for his waterypilgrimage, Joe Hawkridge explained at his leisure:

"Ned Rackham took the others away in the snow, as I tell ye, Cap'nBonnet, and there was I in the doleful dumps. Prayers get answered andmiracles do happen, for next day there come a-floatin' to the beach acask full of grub and water. Good Peter Tobey, the carpenter's mate, hada hand in launchin' it, no doubt, but the Lord hisself steered theblessed cask. Well, while I set a-giving thanks and thinkin' one thingan' another, I figgered that when I'd ate all the grub and swigged thewater, I was no further along. "

"And so you thought you would trust the Lord again, " suggested CaptainBonnet. 

"Aye, sir, that was it. By watchin' the tides I reckoned I might driftto another island and so work to the coast, taking my provisions withme. There was some small line in the cask that Peter Tobey had wrappedthe stores in, and I knotted a harness about the cask that I could slipan arm in, and off I goes when the tide sets right. But some kind of adratted cross-current ketched me and I'm sailin' out to sea, I finds, without compass or cross-staff. Bound to get to London River, eh, Jack, same as we started out on the silly little raft. "

"Whew, this adventure was bad enough, " cried Jack, "but when you saw NedRackham's pirates in the boat, and you couldn't run away, --I wonder, honest, Joe, you didn't die of fright. "

"What for? This is no trade for a nervous wight. And now for a bloodyfrolic with Blackbeard's bullies. "

"There is a share of his treasure for you, Joe, as soon as we can gofind it, " gleefully announced Master Cockrell. "I have the chart drawnall true with mine own hand. Let me get it. "

While the two lads pored entranced over the map of the branching creekand the pine-covered knoll, the crew of the _Royal James_ wereoverhauling weapons and clearing the ship for action. It disappointedthem to lack the twenty men whom they had expected to find marooned butthis made them no less eager for battle. Concerning Ned Rackham, therewas no feud with him or grudge to square and he could go his way in thelittle trading snow without fear of molestation from Stede Bonnet. 

Under cover of night the _Royal James_ worked back to the sandy islandsand anchored in the channel. One of her boats had ventured within sightof the Inlet for a stealthy reconnaissance and reported that the_Revenge_ was still in the harbor. Captain Bonnet was considering hisplan of attack. He said nothing about it to Jack Cockrell and his chum, the merman, and they greedily listened to the gossip of the pettyofficers or thrashed out theories of their own. 

To sail boldly into the harbor was a ticklish risk to run as there wasno pilot aboard who knew the inner channel and the depths of water. Allthe gunners were in favor of attempting it because they yearned tosettle it with crashing broadsides. But the battered, hairy sea-dogs whohad fought it out in hand-to-hand conflicts on the Caribbean were forleaving the brig in safe water and sending fifty men in boats to boardthe _Revenge_ at the first break of day. 

In the midst of the fo'castle argument, Captain Bonnet sent for JackCockrell and told him:

"You are to keep out of harm's way, my young gamecock. I have undertakento deliver you to your esteemed uncle with arms and legs intact, andyour head on your shoulders. "

"But I am lusty enough to poke about with a pike or serve at a guntackle, " protested the unhappy Master Cockrell. 

"I expect you to obey me, " was the stern mandate. "You will havecompany. This Joe Hawkridge is to stay with you. "

"But he is a rare hand in a fight, Captain Bonnet. You should have seenhim in the _Plymouth Adventure_. "

"The boy is weak and all unstrung, though he carries it bravely, Jack. And Blackbeard's men would take special pains to kill him as adeserter. "

By this humane verdict the two lads were shielded from peril, as far asit lay within Stede Bonnet's power. They should have felt grateful tohim but on the contrary it made them quite peevish and they sulked bythemselves up in the bow of the ship until it was time to eat again. Then their gnawing appetites persuaded them to forgive their consideratehost. 

The pirates moved about the deck until far into the night while thesparks flew from cutlass blades pressed to the whirling grindstone. Tubswere filled with hand-grenades and fire-pots, the deck strewn with sand, the magazine opened and powder passed up. Stede Bonnet was careful tosee for himself that all things were in order. At such times he was amartinet of a soldier. 

Anxiously he watched the weather signs, as did every seasoned sailor onboard. It bade fair to be a bright morning with an easterly air and thiswould carry the brig into the harbor with the minimum danger ofstranding if the lead were cast often enough. Joe Hawkridge and JackCockrell were of some assistance in explaining the marks and bearings ofthe channel, and Captain Bonnet consulted them over the chart unrolledupon the cabin table. He had made up his mind to sail the brig in andrisk the hazards of shoal water. When he went on deck, Jack thought of atopic as thrilling as this imminent duel between ships and he remarkedwith joyous excitement:

"Now, Joe, as soon as ever Blackbeard gets his drubbing, we beg a boatand men and gear of Captain Bonnet and go up the creek to fish out thetreasure chest and dig in the knoll. "

"Hook your fish before you fry 'em, " replied the sagaciousapprentice-boy. "This scrummage with the _Revenge_ will be no dancin'heel-and-toe. A bigger ship, more guns and men, and a Blackbeard whowill fight like a demon when he's cornered. Crazy though he may be, heis the most dangerous pirate afloat. "

CHAPTER XIII

OUR HEROES SEEK SECLUSION

AN hour before dawn the anchor was aweigh and the _Royal James_ driftedahead like a shadow, in between the outer islands where the fairway waswide and safe. Her gun-ports were open and every man was alertly at hisstation. It was a silent ship excepting when an officer passed an orderalong. Joe Hawkridge began to feel more sanguine of winning againstodds. He had never seen such iron discipline as this in the bedlamaboard the _Revenge_. Stede Bonnet knew how to slacken the reins andwhen to apply the curb. His men were loyal because he dealt out justiceas well as severity. 

"The captain says we must go below when the action commences, Joe, "dismally observed Jack Cockrell. 

"It goes against the grain but we will not dispute him, " was the sagereply. "We needn't be idle. You can lend a hand with the powder or passthe water buckets to douse the fire if she gets ablaze. And there's thewounded to carry into the cockpit and the blood to mop up, and----"

"Enough o' that, " cried Jack, getting pale about the gills. "You take itlike a butcher!"

"What else is it, you big moon-calf? Set me safe ashore in that CharlesTown of yours, and I hope ne'er to see another weapon barring a spoonand a knife to cut my vittles. "

"There is sense in that, " agreed young Master Cockrell. 

Smartly handled, the brig crept in as far as she dared go without morelight by which to avoid the shallower water. The anchor was dropped to ashort cable and buoyed ready to slip. It was estimated that the distancefrom Blackbeard's ship was somewhat more than a mile. The stars fadedand the cloudless sky began to take on a roseate hue. The light breezewhich had breathed like a cool zephyr through the night was dying inlanguid catspaws. Gradually the dark outline of coastal swamp and forestwas uncurtained. And eager eyes were able to discern the yellow sparsand blurred hull of the _Revenge_ against the gloomy background. 

Stede Bonnet's brig was, of course, pricked out much more sharply withthe seaward horizon behind her. To her crew, in this hushed morning, there came a prolonged, shrill note that was like the call of a bird. Ittrilled with a silvery sweetness and was repeated over and over again. 

"A bos'n's pipe, " said Captain Bonnet, a hand cupped at his ear. "Blackbeard has sighted us and is mustering his crew. "

So faint was the breeze that the command was given to man two boats andtake a hawser from the brig to tow her through the inner channel. Beforethey were in motion, however, the pearly mist began to roll out of theCherokee swamp as if a great cauldron were steaming. The weather favoredit, heat in the air and little wind. The mist seemed also to rise fromthe water, hanging low but as thick as a summer fog. It shrouded thecoast and Blackbeard's ship and crept out across the harbor until thebrig was enveloped in it. 

"'Twas like this when we swum ashore and found the pirogue, Cap'nBonnet, " said Joe Hawkridge. "A curious kind o' white smother from theswamp. "

"And how long did it hang thus?" was the impatient query. 

"When the sun was well up, sir, it seemed to burn away like. It has thesame look as the fever-breedin' vapors of Darien and Yucatan. "

Captain Bonnet called his boats back and was in an ugly humor. There wasno towing the brig through this bothersome fog which obscured every markand left a man bewildered. And instead of surprising Blackbeardunprepared, he would now have time to make his ship ready. However, Stede Bonnet was not a man to wring his hands because a well-laid schemewent wrong. Without delay the crew was assembled in the waist and hespoke to them from the break of the poop. 

"We shall make this weather serve our purpose, lads. Fill the boats, every man to his billet. The mates will see to it that the oars arewell muffled. Silence above all things. Nimbly now. "

There was no need to say more. They fathomed the strategy which wouldenable them to approach Blackbeard's ship unheard and unseen and thenswarm over her side in a ferocious onslaught. Cheerily they took stockof their weapons, drank a health from a tub of stiff grog, and lined upfor Captain Bonnet's inspection. They wore clean clothes, the best theycould find in their bags, as has always been the sailor's habit whengoing into action. The ship was left in charge of the navigator with afew men who were the least stalwart or experienced in such desperateadventures as this. 

Stede Bonnet went in command of the largest boat to lead the party andsingle out Blackbeard as his own particular foe. There was a largechance that he might not return and he therefore left instructions forthe disposal of the brig, advising the navigator to take her to CharlesTown and there sue for the king's pardon in behalf of those on board. Heshook hands with Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge, bade them be carefulof their own safety, and with no more ado took his place in the boat. The flotilla stole away from the brig, sunburned, savage men with brightweapons for whom life was like a throw of the dice, and the pearly fogconcealed them when they had passed no more than a cable-length away. Soskilfully was the sound of the oars deadened that you would not haveguessed that boats were moving across the harbor. 

"Blackbeard fights like a tiger but trust Cap'n Bonnet to outwit him, "said Joe Hawkridge, who stood at the brig's rail with Jack at his elbow. 

"It will be mighty hard waiting, " was the tense reply. "We shall knowwhen they find the _Revenge_. They are not apt to miss her, with acompass in the captain's boat. "

"Aye, there'll be noise enough. Plaguey queer, eh, Jack, to be a-loafin'with nothing to see, like your head was wrapped in a blanket. They oughtto fetch alongside Blackbeard in a half-hour. Go turn the sand-glass inthe cabin. "

They fidgeted about in aimless fashion and fell into talk with thenavigator, or artist, as he was called, a middle-aged man who had been amaster mariner in the slave trade. He told them a yarn or two of theGuinea coast but he, too, was restless and left them to stump up anddown the deck and peer toward the shore. Jack dodged into the cabin towatch the sand trickle into the bottom of the glass. Never was ahalf-hour so long in passing. 

A yell from Joe Hawkridge recalled him to the deck. He listened butheard no distant pistol shots or the hoarse uproar of men in mortalcombat. Joe raised a warning hand and told him to stand still. Therecame a faint splash. It might have been a fish leaping but Joe insistedthat it was made by a careless oar. Jack heard it again and then fanciedhe caught the softened beat of muffled oars close at hand. 

"They lost the course. The fog confused 'em, " said he, in great disgust. 

"But why come back to the ship?" demanded Joe. "They could lay and waitfor the fog to lift a little. And I told Cap'n Bonnet to bear to thenorth'ard if in doubt and find the shore of the swamp. Then he couldcoast back to the beach and so strike the _Revenge_. "

"Well, here they come, Joe, and there is sure to be a good reason. Mayhap the fog cleared to landward and they intend to tow the brig in, after all. "

Just then the foremost boat became visible and behind it was the vagueshape of another. The puzzled lads stared and stared and the hairstiffened on their scalps for sheer horror. These were not the boatsfrom the _Royal James_. They were filled with Blackbeard's own piratesfrom the _Revenge_!

The explanation was simple enough. Joe Hawkridge read it at a glance. Blackbeard was not the drunken chuckle-head that Stede Bonnet hadassumed him to be. He, too, had taken advantage of the fog to attempt tocarry the enemy by stealth. The wit of the one had been matched by theother. And the two flotillas had gone wide enough in passing to escapemutual discovery. In a way it was a pirates' comedy but there were twospectators who foresaw a personal tragedy. They fled for the cabin andscuttled through a small door in a bulkhead which admitted them to thedark hold of the ship. 

It was their purpose to hide in the remotest nook that could be found. Falling over odds and ends of cargo they burrowed like rats and stowedthemselves behind a tier of mahogany logs which had been taken out ofsome prize or other. They were in the bottom of the ship, upon the roughfloor covering the stone ballast. Then these frightened stowaways foundrespite to confer in tremulous whispers. 

"This is the very dreadfulest fix of all, Joe. I had a fair look atBlackbeard himself, in the stern of the boat, --red ribbons in hiswhiskers, and his sash stuck full of pistols. "

"That old rip isn't an easy man to mistake, Jack. Now the fat _is_ inthe fire, " replied the Hawkridge lad who, for once, appeareddiscouraged. "Cap'n Bonnet is a vast sight happier than us. He gets the_Revenge_ without strikin' a blow. "

"But Blackbeard gets _us_, " wailed Master Cockrell. "And I helped tochase him through the swamp after we rammed the pirogue into his wherryand capsized the treasure chest. Do you suppose he knew me just now?"

"Those little red eyes of his are passing keen. But didn't ye tell me ofsmearing your face with mud that day to fend off the mosquitoes? It mayha' disguised you. "

"A little comfort in that, Joe, but to be found in Stede Bonnet's brigbodes ill enough. Of a truth we be born to trouble as the sparks flyupward ever since we joined the pirates. What is your advice?"

"To stay hid below and pray God for another shift o' fortune, " piouslyanswered Joe. "There is no fear of Blackbeard's rummagin' the hold atpresent. He must decide if he'll fight the _Revenge_ or give her theslip. And whilst him and his men are busied on deck, I can make bold tosearch for stores fit to eat. Cap'n Bonnet allus had a well-found ship. Blast it, Jack, my hearty, stock us up and we could lie tucked in theforepeak for a month o' Sundays. "

"But the rats and the darkness and the stinks, and to be expectingdiscovery, " was Jack's dreary comment. 

"It would ha' looked like a parlor to me when I was on that barren cayand sighted Ned Rackham's rogues coming off from the snow, " said theother stowaway. He was beginning to recuperate from the shock. 

They were in a mood for no more speech but sat in this rayless cavern ofa hold and strove to hear any sounds which might indicate the course ofevents on deck. There was no hubbub of firearms nor the cries of woundedmen. It was foolish to assume that the dozen seamen who had been left tokeep the ship would attempt resisting Blackbeard's mob of pirates allprimed for slaughter. When quietude seemed to reign all through the shipJoe Hawkridge whispered this opinion:

"If his fancy was to deal with 'em later, he would pitch the lot downhere in the hold. Failing that, Jack, he has offered 'em the chance toenlist. Being so few, they can't plot mischief, and he has lost thehands he left aboard the _Revenge_. "

"But I thought all this crew was true as steel to Stede Bonnet, Joe. "

"Many a man'll change his mind to save his life, " was the reply. "Andthese lads aren't what you call Cap'n Bonnet's picked men. As for thenavigator, Blackbeard needs him to fill Ned Rackham's berth. "

Soon Joe Hawkridge told Jack to stay where he was. Now was the time toexplore the lower part of the ship. Squeezing his comrade's hand infarewell, Joe crawled aft to make his way to a rough bulkhead whichwalled off a storeroom built next to the cabin. The boys had passedthrough it in their headlong flight below. Here was kept the bulk of theship's provisions. Joe Hawkridge had learned of the storeroom throughhelping the steward hoist out a barrel of pork. 

With his heart in his throat the venturesome lad groped like a blindman, grievously barking his shins and his knuckles, until he bumped intothe timbers of the bulkhead. Inching himself along, he came to the smalldoor which had been cut into the hold to connect with the main hatch. Hehad slipped the iron bar behind him during his flight with JackCockrell. Pulling the door ajar he wormed through into the storeroomwhich was also dark as midnight. His fingers touched what seemed to bea tierce of beef but he had no tools to start the head or the hoops. Inthe same manner he discovered other casks and barrels but they wereutterly useless to him. Here was food enough, he reflected, if a man hadteeth to gnaw through oak staves. 

Now and again he had to cross to the other door which led into the cabinpassageway and press his ear against a plank to make certain againstsurprise. Up and down the dark room he blundered, refusing to admithimself beaten. The first bit of cheer was when his foot struck a roundobject as solid as a round shot and he picked up a small Dutch cheese. This renewed his courage and he ransacked the corners on hands andknees. Blackbeard's treasure chest was not half so precious as a side ofsalted fish which he ran down by scent, saying to himself:

"With this rancid cheese and the slab o' ancient cod, ye could smell mycourse a league to wind'ard. "

In a crumpled sack he found a few pounds of what seemed to be wheatflour, by the feel and taste of it. Poor stuff as it was, dry anduncooked, he added it to his stock. 

"Rubbishy vittles, " he sighed. "They may keep a man alive but he'llchoke to death a-swallowin' of 'em. "

Water was the desperate necessity and it was not to be sought for in thestoreroom. There was rum enough, the place reeked with it, but tothirsty throats it was so much liquid fire. Joe was resolved not toreturn to Jack Cockrell without a few pints of water if recklessenterprise could procure it. Was the cabin still empty? He stood for along time and listened but there was not a sound beyond the door of thepassageway. Taking his courage in both hands he pushed at the door andit creaked open on rusty hinges. Light as a feather he moved one foot infront of the other, halted, advanced another step, and so entered thelarge cabin in which Stede Bonnet had lived with a Spartan simplicity. 

What Joe coveted was the porous jar or water-monkey which hung suspendedin a netting above the table. It was kept filled, he knew, in order tocool the tepid water from the casks. A heavenly sight it was to him tosee the drops sweating on its rounded sides. He snatched it down and wasabout to make a swift retirement, but still spread upon the table henoted the chart of the Carolina and Virginia coasts which he had poredover with Stede Bonnet. This he delayed to roll up and tuck under onearm, not that he expected to employ it himself, but to make cruisingmore difficult for Blackbeard. 

This bit of strategy held him a moment too long. He shot a glance overhis shoulder, alarmed by a tread on the companion ladder. Horrified hebeheld a pair of Spanish boots with scarlet, crinkled morocco tops, andthey encased bandy legs which were strong and thick. What saved themiserable young Hawkridge was that the occupant of these splendid bootspaused half-way down the ladder to shout a profane command or two inthose husky accents so feared by all lawful shipmen. 

Before that sable beard came into his field of vision the lad was infull stride, running like a whippet, chart under one arm, water-jarunder the other. He checked himself to ease the door behind him just asthe truculent captor of the _Royal James_ brig reached the foot of theladder and let his gaze rove about the cabin. Sinking to the floor ofthe storeroom, Joe was afraid that for once he was about to swoon like asilly maid at sight of a mouse. As he had truly said, this pirating wasno trade for a nervous man. Never mind, a miss was as good as a mile. Thankful for the darkness that closed around him, he slung thewater-monkey over his shoulder in its hammock of netted cord, pushed theside of codfish inside his shirt, poked the chart into his boot-leg, putthe cheese in the sack atop the flour, and was freighted for his journeythrough the hold. 

This he accomplished after great difficulty and had to whistle and waitfor a response before he could be sure of Jack Cockrell's whereabouts. 

"What luck, Joe?" was the plaintive question. "I'd sooner starve than beleft alone in this dungeon. "

"Behold the dashing 'prentice-boy with another hairbreadth escape to hiscredit, " replied the hero. "Be thankful for your dinner 'causeBlackbeard all but made a mouthful of me. "

"You saw him, Joe?"

"Up to the middle of him, and that was a-plenty. Don't ask me. I had abad turn. "

"I feel sick, too, " said Jack. "The smell of this vile bilge-waterbreeds a nausea, and, whew, 'tis worse than ever. "

"Bilge, my eye! You sniff the banquet I fetched ye. Here's a primecheese that was hatched when Trimble Rogers was a pup. "

Jack offered a feeble apology and felt revived after a pull at thewater-monkey. What they craved most was a spark of light, the glimmer ofa candle to lift this appalling gloom which pressed down like a visibleburden. With nothing to do but discuss the situation from every slantand angle of conjecture, it was Joe Hawkridge's theory that Stede Bonnetwould not rest content with regaining the _Revenge_ but would come outto attack the brig as soon as the wind favored. His hatred of Blackbeardwas one motive but there was a point of honor even more compelling. 

"He called you his guest, Jack, " explained Joe, "and I never did see aman so jealous of his plighted word when once he swore it. He tookobligation to set you safe in Charles Town, d'ye see? And powder smokewon't stop him. "

"Will Blackbeard tarry for a fight, Joe?"

"Not to my notion. He knows well this brig is no match for the_Revenge_, knows it better than did Cap'n Bonnet, what with all theheavy metal slung aboard from the sloop. And what does Blackbeard gainby having this brig hammered into a cocked hat? Fate tricked himcomically with this swappin' about of ships. "

"And will he linger on this coast? Oh, Joe, if he goes for a longcruise, what in mercy's name becomes of us two?"

"A long cruise, it looks like, shipmate. In the _Revenge_ he could laughat the small king's men-o'-war commissioned to hunt him down. He wasready to slap alongside any of 'em. Now 'tis different. As another fleain his ear, I stole the only chart of these waters. To the south'ardhe'll turn, and I will bet that rampageous cheese on it. "

"Clear to the Bay of Honduras?" said Jack. 

"As far as that, at a guess. Or he may skirt the Floridas to look forSpanish prizes and put in at the Dry Tortugas which is a famousrendezvous for pirates of the Main. He will be hot to fit himself with abigger ship, by capture or by some knavish trick such as he dealt Cap'nBonnet. "

CHAPTER XIV

BLACKBEARD APPEARS IN FIRE AND BRIMSTONE

HERE was a tragic predicament from which there was no release. JackCockrell was firmly convinced that Blackbeard must have recognized himthat day in the swamp while Joe felt no less certain that he was markedfor death because he had been one of the party of marooned mutineers. The hope of prolonging their existence by means of raiding the storeroomhad ebbed after Joe's investigation. Such provisions as had been brokenout of bulk were kept in lockers and pantries on deck where they wereconvenient to the galley and forecastle. It was realized also that theirtwittering nerves could not long withstand the darkness and suspenseonce the brig had put out to sea. Joe Hawkridge had nothing more to sayabout enduring it a month o' Sundays. 

While the brig remained at anchor they clung to the thought that CaptainStede Bonnet might intervene in their behalf. It did bring them a gleamof solace to imagine him hoisting sail on the _Revenge_ and crowding outto rake the brig with his formidable broadsides. And yet they were indoubt whether the _Revenge_ was fit to proceed at once, what with allthe work there had been to do, rigging a new foremast, caulking leakyseams, repairing the other ravages of the storm. 

These pitiable stowaways had no means of telling one hour from anotheruntil, at length, they heard over their heads the faint, musical strokesof the ship's bell on the forecastle head. This led them to believe thatthe fog had cleared else Blackbeard would not have revealed the vessel'sposition. And lifting fog meant a breeze to sweep it away from theharbor. 

"Eight bells she strikes, the first o' the forenoon watch, " said Joe. "We have been cooped in this black pit a matter of three hours a'ready. "

"No more than that?" groaned Jack. "It seems at least a week. We mustdivert ourselves in some wise. What say if I learn you a bit o' Latin?And you can say over such sea songs as come to mind, for me to tuck inmy memory. "

"Well said, my worthy scholar. 'Tis high time we bowled ahead with myeddication as a proper gentleman. "

Jack began to conjugate _amo_, _amas_, _amat_, and the pupil droned itafter him but the verb _to love_ recalled a black-eyed lass who hadstolen his heart in the Azores and he veered from the Latin lesson toconfide that sentimental passage. So Jack hammered nouns of the firstdeclension into him until they grew tired of that, and then the sea waifplayed his part by reciting such fo'castle ballads as "_Neptune's RagingFury_; _or The Gallant Seaman's Sufferings_, " and "_Sir Walter RaleighSailing in the Lowlands_. "

This was better than the slow agony of waiting in silence, but Joespoiled it by turning lovelorn and Jack bemourned fair Dorothy Stuart ofCharles Town whom he would never greet again, and they sang very softlytogether a verse of "_The Maid's Lamentation_" which went like this:

 "There shall be no Scarf go on my Head, No Comb into my Hair, No Fire burn, no Candle light To shew my Beauty fair, For never will I married be Until the Day I die, Since the Seas and the Winds Has parted my Love and me. "

This left them really in worse spirits than before, and they drowsed offto sleep, and no wonder, after such a night as they had passed. Accustomed to broken watches, Joe Hawkridge slept uneasily with one earopen. Once or twice he sat up, heard Jack's steady snores, and lay downagain. It was the ship's bell which finally brought him to, and hecounted the strokes. 

"Five bells, but what watch is it?" he muttered anxiously. "How long wasI napping? Lost track o' the time, so I have, and can't say if it'snight or day. "

He sat blinking into the darkness and then had an inspiration. Sostaunch and well-kept was the brig that the deck seams were tight and nolight filtered through. Joe left his hiding-place and groped along towhere he thought the main hatch ought to be. Gazing upward he saw agleam like a silvered line between the coaming and the edge of thecanvas cover which was battened with iron bars. This persuaded him thatthe day had not yet faded, and he concluded that he had heard the bellstrike either in the afternoon watch or the second dog watch of earlyevening. 

This he imparted to Jack, after prodding him awake. They mulled it overand agreed that Captain Bonnet must have found the _Revenge_ unready toweigh anchor or he would have engaged the brig ere this. Perhaps therewas not breeze enough for either vessel to move. Another hour of thisstressful tedium and they heard a sound of sharp significance. It wasthe lap-lap of water against the vessel's side. No more than thethickness of the planking was between them and this tinkling sea, andJoe exclaimed, in an agitated whisper:

"A breeze o' wind! Gentle it draws, but steady, like it comes off theland at sundown. "

"The same as it did when we were blown offshore on the little raft, after we quitted the _Plymouth Adventure_, " replied Jack. 

"Blackbeard will take advantage of it to make for the open sea. There bethree things offered us, Master Cockrell, to starve or go mad in thisblighted hold, to sally on deck and beg mercy, which means a shortshift, or to climb out softly in the night and try to swim for it. "

"Swim to what, Joe?"

"Swim to the bottom, most likely. But we might fetch one o' them cays orthe coast itself if he steers close in to find smooth water. 'Tis theworst odds yet but I'd sooner drown than tarry in this vessel. Onemiracle was wrought when the cask came driftin' to the beach to save me, and who knows but the Lord can spare another one for the salvation of uspoor lads that mean to do right and forsake piratin'. "

As they expected, there came soon the familiar racket of making sail andtrimming yards and the clank of the capstan pawls. Then the anchorflukes scraped and banged against the bow timbers. The vessel heeled alittle and the lapping water changed its tune to a swash-swash as thehull pushed it aside. The brig was alive and in motion. 

"She makes no more than two or three knots, " observed Joe, after alittle while. "Ye can tell by the feel of her. The wind is steady butsmall. "

"Then he can't go clear of the islands till long after night, "thankfully returned Jack. 

Joe made another trip to crane his neck at the main hatch. The brightthread of daylight had dimmed. He could scarce discern it. The ladsoccupied themselves with reckoning the distance, the hour, and thevessel's speed. Now that Joe had satisfied himself that the end of theday was near, he knew what the ship's bell meant when it was struckevery half-hour. They would await the passing of another hour, until twobells of the first watch, by which time they calculated the brig shouldbe in the wide, outer channel between the seaward islands. 

The plan was to emerge through the forepeak in the very bows of the shipwhere a scuttle was let into the deck. There they might hope to lowerthemselves to the chain stays under the bowsprit and so drop into thesea. They would be washed past the ship, close to her side, and into thewake, and there was little chance of drawing attention. True it was thatin this hard choice they preferred to swim to the bottom if so it had tobe. 

They crouched where they were hid, waiting to hear the fateful signal oftwo bells. It struck, mellow, clear, and they were about to creep in thedirection of the forepeak. But Joe Hawkridge gripped his comrade's armand held him fast. A whispered warning and they ceased to move. Behindthem, in the after part of the ship, gleamed a lantern. It illumined theopen door of the bulkhead which walled off the storeroom. And in thisdoorway, like a life-sized portrait, grotesque and sinister, set in aframe, was the figure of Blackbeard. 

He advanced into the hold and the cowering stowaways assumed that he hadcome to search them out. The impulse was to dash into the forepeak andso plunge overboard, flinging away all caution, but before theirpalsied muscles could respond, the behavior of Blackbeard held themirresolute and curious. He had turned his back to them and was shoutingboisterously to others to follow him. Seven men came through thedoorway, one after the other, hanging back with evident reluctance. Itwas impossible to discern who they were, whether officers or seamen. Every one carried in his arms what looked to be a tub or an iron pot. These they set upon the dunnage boards which covered the ballast andmade a flooring in the hold. 

Blackbeard bellowed at them to squat in a circle, which they meekly did. He was in one of his fiendishly mirthful humors, rumpling his beard, strutting to and fro, laughing in senseless outbursts. At such times hismen were most fearful for their lives. What sort of an infernal pastimehe had now concocted was beyond the imagination of the lads who wereconcealed a dozen yards away. He was not hunting them, this much wasplain, and it seemed wise to be quiet and avoid drawing attention tothemselves. 

They saw Blackbeard ignite a torch at the lantern and poke it into onepot after another. Flames began to burn, blue and green and yellow, andlurid smoke rolled to the deck-beams overhead. Amid this glare and reekof combustibles, Blackbeard waved his torch and tremendously proclaimed:

"Come, lads, we be all devils together, with a hell of ourown, --brimstone fires and pitch. Now, braggarts, see how long ye canbear it. 'Tis a foretaste of what's in store for all hands. At this gameI'll outlast ye, for, harkee, I sold my soul to the Old Scratch as iswell known. "

[Illustration: HE LOOMED LIKE THE BELIAL WHOM HE WAS SO FOND OF CLAIMINGAS HIS MENTOR]

He stirred his infernal pots and the greasy smoke rolled upward inchoking volume. The brimstone fumes were so vile and noxious that thevictims of this outlandish revel soon gasped and wheezed. But they darednot object nor move from their places among the villainous pots. Blackbeard enjoyed their sufferings, taunting them as milksops andpoltroons who could not endure even this taste of Gehenna. He himselfappeared to be unaffected by it, lurching from one man to another, whacking them with the burning torch or playfully upsetting them. In thegaseous pall of smoke he loomed like the Belial whom he was so fond ofclaiming as his mentor. 

Finally one of his involuntary guests toppled over in a faint. Blackbeard was kind enough to haul him to the door and boot him throughit. A second man dragged himself thither. A third found voice tosupplicate. The witch-fires still smoked and stewed in the pots andBlackbeard had proved that he was the toughest demon of them all. 

The two stowaways watched this demented exploit in sheer wonderment. Thefumes were not dense in their part of the hold and they could breathe, but they well-nigh strangled in trying to refrain from coughing. Thefires of tar and brimstone and what not cast so much light that theydared not betray themselves by crawling toward the forepeak. The uprightbeams between the keelson and the deck threw black shadows over them andthey were in no great peril of detection so long as they stayedmotionless. 

Joe Hawkridge had heard gossip of this extraordinary amusement as a kindof initiation for hands newly joining Blackbeard's ship. He thereforeread it that these unfortunates were some of Stede Bonnet's men who hadbeen captured with the brig. They had been allowed to enlist and werebeing taught to respect their new master. 

Jack Cockrell had hugely admired young Joe for his ready wit andcoolness in other crises of their mutual fortunes but now came a momentin which the astute sea urchin surpassed himself. It was not too much tosay that he displayed absolute genius with the sturdy Master Cockrell toaid and abet him. Joe clawed in the dark until he found the sack with afew pounds of wheat flour in it. A quick whisper and his comrade graspedthe great idea. They took no thought of a sequel. They would trust toopportunity. Hastily they rubbed the flour into their shirts andbreeches. They covered their faces with it and lavishly sprinkled theirhair. They looked at each other in the shadow of the beams and werepleased with their handiwork. 

Another whispered consultation and Joe possessed himself of thecannon-ball of a cheese while Jack grasped the side of salt-fish by thetail. They resembled two whitened clowns of a pantomime but in spiritthey were as grimly serious as the menace of death could make them. 

Blackbeard was dancing clumsily, like a drunken bear, and deriding withlewd oaths the two or three tortured survivors of his brimstonecarnival. In a high, wailing voice which rose to a shriek there wasborne to him the words:

"Ye dirked poor Jesse Strawn and left him rotting in the swamp. I was atrue and faithful seaman, Cap'n Teach. "

A deeper voice boomed out, filling the hold with unearthly echoes:

"I am the shade of the master mariner whom ye did foully murder offMatanzas and there is no rest for me ten fathom down. "

The apparitions flitted out of the shadow and were vaguely disclosed inthe flickering glare from the brimstone pots. The smoke gave them awavering aspect as though their shapes were unsubstantial. Blackbeardstood beholding them in a trance of horror. With an aimless finger hetraced the sign of the cross and his pallid lips moved in the murmur:

"_The ghost o' Jesse Strawn! For the love of God, forbear. _"

It was a petition as pious as ever Christian uttered. Forgotten was hiswicked counterfeit of the nether region. Again the shrill voice wailed:

"Pity poor Jesse Strawn. I'll haunt ye by land and sea, Cap'n Teach. Swear by the Book to let that treasure chest lie at the bottom of thecreek else I tear your sinful soul from your body. "

The terrible Blackbeard was incapable of motion. Huskily he muttered:

"I'll ne'er seek the chest, good Jesse Strawn, an' it please you to passme by. "

The two spectres moved forward as the one of the deeper voice declaimed:

"Doomed I was to find no rest till I overtook your ship, Ed'ard Teach. Each night you'll see me walk the plank from your quarter-deck. "

The unhappy Blackbeard gibbered something and would have fled as thespirits approached him. But those bandy legs tottered and before hecould turn the awful visitants were upon him. One raised a round shotabove his head, or so it appeared to be, and smote him full upon thecrown. The other whirled a flat bludgeon and hit him on the jaw. Withthe smell of brimstone was mingled the pungent flavor of ripe cheese andsalt-fish. Blackbeard measured his length, and the ghost of Jesse Strawndelayed an instant to dump a pot of sizzling combustibles over him. 

Then the spirits twain made for the cabin at top speed. Several of thecrew had rushed down to harken to the strange disturbance. Theyscattered wildly at the first glimpse of these phantoms, beingsuperstitious sailormen with many a wicked deed to answer for. Itflashed into Joe Hawkridge's mind that all the men of the watch might bechased below, the hatches clapped on them, and the mastery of the brigsecured. Blackbeard was absent for reasons best known to himself and hispirates lacked leadership. A brace of ghosts could put them to panicrout. And, no doubt, that wailing message of dead Jesse Strawn hadcarried like the cry of a banshee. 

The poop was deserted in the twinkling of an eye, even to the pair ofhelmsmen and the officer of the watch. Against the sky of night theunwelcome phantoms were wan and luminous while the groans which issuedfrom them were enough to curdle the blood of the brawniest pirate. Hewho had been Jack Cockrell in mortal guise was quick to slide the cabinhatch closed and fasten it. For the moment they had captured the armedbrig _Royal James_ and as ferocious a crew of rascals as ever scuttled amerchantman. 

Joe Hawkridge glided to the taffrail and peered over the stern. A boatwas towing behind the ship. It had been left there for taking soundingsor pulling the brig's head around while she was still in the shoalerwaters near the coast. This was better than Joe had dared anticipate. Feeling his way along the rail, he found the end of the rope which wasbelayed around a wooden pin. Heaven be praised, they would not have toswim for it! He beckoned his comrade to say in his ear:

"They will soon find their wits. It 'ud be foolish to try scaring 'emunder hatches now that the jolly-boat floats so handy. There's hardcases amongst 'em that will begin shooting at us presently. Down therope ye go, Jack. I'll stand by and give 'em another dose of poor JesseStrawn. "

Over the rail flew the stouter phantom of the two and slid like a whitestreak, fetching up in the boat with a most earthly and substantialthump. With a farewell wail the other ghost flung a limber leg over andshot down so fast that his hands were scorched. To such pirates asbeheld this instant vanishment, these disturbing spirits floated offinto space. Jack cut the rope with his knife and the boat dropped backin the shining wake. They shoved out two heavy oars and fairly broketheir hearts in pulling dead into the wind where the brig would have totack to pursue them. 

The rattle of the oars and the discovery of the shorn rope's end musthave convinced the pirates who ran aft that they had been tricked bymortal beings like themselves. A musket spat a red streak of fire. Blocks whined as the braces were hauled to change the brig's course. Inthe light breeze she responded awkwardly and soon hung in stays. Meanwhile the jolly-boat was slowly working to windward while twofrightened lads tugged and swung until the flour turned to paste ontheir dripping faces. 

Before the brig began to forge ahead, the boat was invisible from herdecks. This was evident because the spatter of musket-fire ceased. Soonthe fugitives heard Blackbeard's harsh voice damning all hands. Thatthick skull of his had not been cracked by the impact of the solidcheese and he had been released from his brimstone inferno. The ghostsrested on their oars. They could watch the glimmering canvas of the brigand see what her procedure might be. Soon she filled away and forsookthe attempt to find the boat. Blackbeard had wisdom enough to avoidblundering about and putting the brig aground in a chase so elusive asthis. 

"Farewell, ye hairy son of Tophet, " said Joe Hawkridge, waving his handat the disappearing vessel. "And here's hoping I set your whiskersablaze when I turned the pot over 'em. "

"Did you hear him swear not to touch the treasure chest, Joe? That was amaster stroke of yours. "

"Aye, it was bright of me. But he thinks different now. He knows we madea booby of him. "

"But we learned one thing, --he hasn't recovered the treasure yet, "suggested Jack. 

"He is such a powerful liar that I don't know as the ghost o' JesseStrawn could budge the truth out of him. However, it was comfortin' tohear him swear it on his marrow-bones. I fetched away the navigationchart, the one I poached from the cabin table. It gives us the lay o'the coast. "

"What ho and whither bound?" was Jack's question. "Here is a sail woundround a sprit beneath the thwarts. "

"The wrong wind to head for Cap'n Bonnet and the _Revenge_. Thisswag-bellied jolly-boat handles like a firkin. We had best wait for dayand then decide the voyage. "

"Nothing to eat and no water, Joe. All I can find is an empty pannikin. "

"You're a glutton, " severely exclaimed young Hawkridge. "After thebanquet I served in the hold!"

What Master Cockrell said in reply sounds as familiar and as wistfulto-day as when he spoke it two hundred years ago. 

"I have had enough of wandering and strange adventures, Joe. I want togo home. "

CHAPTER XV

MR. PETER FORBES MOURNS HIS NEPHEW

IT seems a long time, in the course of this story, since the honorableSecretary of the Council, Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, was forced to sailin to Charles Town from the _Plymouth Adventure_ on that mosthumiliating errand of finding medicines for Blackbeard's fever-smittenrogues. For the sake of his own dear nephew and the other hostagesdetained on board, he had endeavored to perform his bargain and wasreturning across the bar when the threatening clouds and other portentsof a violent storm caused the seamen to lose heart. They put about anddrove back into the harbor for shelter in the very nick of time. 

These were pirates from Blackbeard's crew, it may be recalled, with hisgrizzled, scarred boatswain at the tiller. They had felt safe enough toswagger and ruffle it through the streets of Charles Town and to terrifythe people. Their worthless lives were protected by the hostages whowaited in fear and trembling. The town seethed with indignation and washot with shame. There would be no more of the friendly traffic withpirates. 

It was fully believed that the wretched Blackbeard would be as good ashis word in allowing no more than two days' grace. Therefore when Mr. Peter Forbes came back in the boat to inform his neighbors that he hadbeen unable to reach the ship, it was sadly taken for granted that thosehelpless passengers had been put to death. Forthwith the pirates of theboat's crew were seized and thrown in gaol. There they lay in doubleirons until the Council met and ordered them to be tried. In accordancewith the verdict the six seamen and the boatswain were promptly hangedby the neck from the same gallows at White Point hard by the town. Andthe people no longer shivered at the name of Blackbeard nor feared hisvengeance. Their fighting blood was thoroughly aroused. 

Not long after this, there arrived from England a new Governor of theProvince, a man of honor and resolution who approved what had been done. This Governor Johnson proceeded to organize the town for defense, building batteries on Sullivan's Island, recruiting the seafaring men inthe militia, and seeking to obtain merchant vessels which could beemployed as armed cruisers. Learning that the Governor of North Carolinawas in a corrupt partnership with pirates, he sent messages to Virginiato solicit coöperation. 

This activity made much work for Secretary Peter Forbes who forsook hisintention of going to England to beg the coöperation of his Majesty'sGovernment against the plague of pirates. Dapper and plump andimportant as of yore, his florid face was clouded with sorrow and heseemed a much older man. He mourned his nephew, Jack Cockrell, as nomore and felt as though he had lost an only son. Every angry word he hadever addressed the lad, every hasty punishment inflicted, hurt himgrievously. 

It was a solace to talk with winsome Dorothy Stuart because hers was thebright optimism of youth and she held so exalted an opinion of Jack'sstrength and courage that she refused to abandon hope. And the fact thathe had confided to her his rash intention of running away and signing asa pirate sooner than be transported to school in England, persuaded herthat he might be alive. 

"From what you saw yourself, Mr. Forbes, " said she, "when Blackbeardboarded the _Plymouth Adventure_ with his dreadful men, our Jack won hisfancy. "

"So it appeared, Dorothy. The boy boasted of knocking a tall pirate onthe head, and he read this monster of a pirate more shrewdly than I. Yes, Blackbeard took it with rough good humor. But Jack would ne'erconsent to sail with him. 'Twas that confounded Stede Bonnet with hisgallant air that turned the lad's head. He cast a glamor over this tradeof murder and pillage. "

"Be that as it may, " returned Dorothy, with a sigh and a smile, "Iconfess to a romantic admiration for this bold Captain Bonnet. He wearsan air of mystery which is most becoming. We must not blame poor Jack. "

"No, no, I am done with all that, " hastily exclaimed Uncle Peter. "All Idare hope is that when Blackbeard is captured, we may learn what fatebefell the boy. It makes the torture worse to have him vanish withouttrace. "

"And yet I have faith the sea will give him back to us, Mr. Forbes. Hewill find you a chastened guardian, not so apt to box his ears. "

Uncle Peter was so distressed by this gentle raillery that the girlbegged pardon and vowed that she would never again offend. It sohappened that they were sitting together in Parson Throckmorton's gardena day or so after this when a friend came running in with tidings themost unexpected and incredible. A negro slave had come from a plantationa few miles inland and he bore a letter written by none other thanCaptain Jonathan Wellsby of the _Plymouth Adventure_. It narrated how heand the survivors of his ship had journeyed that far after weeks ofsuffering and frequent skirmishes with Indians. They were compelled torest and take shelter before undertaking the last stage of the journey. 

Councilor Peter Forbes was magically changed. He shed his dignity andthrew his hat in air. Clasping Miss Dorothy's slender waist, he planteda kiss on her damask cheek. Parson Throckmorton was ramming snuff intohis nostrils, his wig all awry, while he sneezed trumpet blasts ofrejoicing. 

"Survivors? _Kerchooh!_ God bless me, that lusty stripling will beamongst them, --_kerchooh_, --he can survive anything but Greek andLatin, --_kerchooh_, --I will spare the rod in future. "

"I told you so, Uncle Peter Forbes, " laughed Dorothy. 

"Not so fast, " quoth he, in a mood suddenly sobered. "Captain Wellsbyincludes no list of those in his party. "

"But, of course, one of them is _sure_ to be Master Jack, " she insisted. 

"I am a selfish man and a laggard officer of the Crown, " he exclaimedwith air of great self-reproach. "There are women in that company andwounded men, no doubt. We must take them clothing, horses, food, asurgeon. "

He bustled off to the Governor's house to find that energetic gentlemanabsent at Sullivan's Island. Acting for him, the Secretary of theCouncil sent the town crier to summon all good citizens to the taverngreen. In the space of an hour the men and supplies were assembled andwith Mr. Forbes in command the band of mercy made haste to reach theplantation. During the march there was a buzz of anxious surmise. Wasthis one and that alive or dead? Had the hostages been slain and werethese the sailormen of the _Plymouth Adventure_ who had been set adriftby Blackbeard? Councilor Forbes winced at hearing such talk as this, buthis heart beat high nevertheless, so confident was he that he was aboutto behold his manly nephew. 

There was loud cheering when they came to the cleared land of the indigofields and saw a tattered British ensign fluttering from the logstockade which enclosed the huts of the overseer and his laborers. Inthe gateway appeared the stalwart figure of Captain Wellsby in raggedgarments and with a limping gait. Other men crowded behind him andresponded with huzzas which were like a feeble echo. The friends fromCharles Town rushed forward to embrace them, loudly demanding to knowwhere the rest were. 

"We fetched the women safe through, " answered Captain Wellsby whose eyeswere sunken and the brown beard streaked with gray. "Twelve good men ofmy crew are dead, and three of the gentlemen passengers. The swamps tooktoll of some and the Indians slew the others. We were besieged afortnight by the Yemassees, --a hard experience all of it, and wondrousluck to have escaped----"

Councilor Forbes delayed while his companions entered the huts to attendthe invalids. He struggled to ask a question but his voice was beyondcontrol. 

"I understand, " kindly spoke the shipmaster. "Your lad is not with us, nor can I say if he be dead or alive. "

"The Indians carried him off?" weakly inquired the uncle. 

"No, he was never seen after we abandoned ship. Your Jack and a chum ofhis from Blackbeard's crew were for making the beach on a small raft oftheir own contrivance. This was after nightfall, Councilor, and whatwith a land'ard breeze and a crotchety set of the tide amongst theshoals, they floated out to sea. "

"On a small raft, " muttered Mr. Forbes, "and a vast ocean. I know of noship voyaging to or from these ports which might have found them. "

"I was in hopes of hearing news of the lads from you, " sorrowfully saidthe shipmaster. "There is the chance, tiny though it be, that they weresighted by some vessel bound to foreign parts, across the WesternOcean. "

The uncle shook his head in a manner profoundly dejected. There wereduties which summoned him and he choked down his own grief, turning fromthe sympathetic mariner to minister to those in distress. Horse litterswere soon ready for the exhausted but heroic women who had been keptalive by the devotion of the noble British seamen in accordance with thetraditions of the merchant service. Those unable to walk farther wereplaced in carts. Clothed and fed, the sailors were in blithe spirits andtalked of going to sea again as soon as they could find a ship. 

In the crowd which met them on the outskirts of the Charles Townsettlement was Dorothy Stuart. She scanned the straggling column andthen ran from one cart to another. It was impossible to convince herthat Jack Cockrell was not there. But when she heard from Uncle Peterthe news that Jack was missing but not surely dead, her faith burnedanew, triumphant over fact and reason. 

"See how the great storm came to save him from Blackbeard, " she cried, her hand nestling in Uncle Peter's arm. "And look how he came unscathedthrough that bloody battle with the pirates in the _Plymouth Adventure_. Why, a cruise on a raft is merely a frolic after all that. "

"I would not discourage your dear dreams, sweet maid, " was the gentleresponse. "And may they be truer than my own forebodings. "

Charles Town was more than ever resentful when it learned from thesepoor people how the pirate sailing-master, Ned Rackham, had plotted toget rid of them and how mournful had been their sufferings after theshipwreck. The one boat left to them had been too rotten to send alongthe coast and they had plunged into a wilderness almost impassable. 

Meanwhile Governor Johnson, stirred by this episode, had received wordthat the province of Virginia was both ready and anxious to join in anexpedition against Blackbeard. Governor Spottswood of Virginia would beoutfitting such craft as he could get together in the James River whilehe awaited a reinforcement from Charles Town. 

The best vessel available for immediate use was a small brigantine, the_King George_. There was no lack of eager seamen when Councilor Forbesand Colonel Stuart proclaimed the muster on the tavern green. Amongthose selected were several of Captain Jonathan Wellsby's sailors whowere primed to fight even though there was not much flesh on theirbones. He himself was a forlorn mariner who had lost his good ship andfound no joy in life. With a grim smile of gratitude he accepted theinvitation to go as master of the _King George_, with Colonel Stuart asa sea soldier to drill the men and lead them in action. 

It was while they were slinging guns aboard the brigantine that some ofthe men happened to notice a small boat coming into the harbor under arag of sail. At first it was taken for a fishing craft and there was nocomment until it was quite close. Then they saw that it was a ship'sjolly-boat much the worse for wear, with only two occupants. These werehalf-naked lads, burned black to the waist, with a queer kind of canvashead-gear as a protection against the sun. 

The boat was steered to pass under the stern of the _King George_ andthe crew was unable to fathom if these were pirates or victims ofanother shipwreck. Captain Wellsby solved it by shouting:

"Both your guesses are right! One is the pirate younker that served ourcause in the _Plymouth Adventure_ and t'other is Master Jack Cockrell!"

One of the Charles Town volunteers heard only the word _pirate_ andgrowled, with an oath:

"One o' Blackbeard's spawn? We'll make precious short work of him. Handme a musket and I will save trouble for the hangman. "

"Here, stop that, " said Captain Wellsby, beckoning his own men. "You old_Adventure_ hands know better. Quell these lubbers. If there's to behostile feeling ashore I shall take this lad aboard under my ownprotection. "

During this argument the sea-worn pilgrims in the jolly-boat hadrecognized the shipmaster and were joyfully yelling at him. In responseto his gesture, they pulled down the sail and rowed to the gangway ofthe brigantine. There was no need to fear the wrath of the Charles Townseamen, because the _Adventure_ hands stood by as a guard while theyexplained how this young Joe Hawkridge had valiantly helped to turn thetide of battle against the prize crew of pirates. And there was such arousing welcome for Master Cockrell that all else was forgotten. His oldshipmates fairly mobbed him. 

"I will fire a gun and hoist all the bunting to signal the town, " criedthe skipper, his face shining. "And presently I'll send you to the wharfin my own boat, but first tell me, boys, who took you off the littleraft and whence come you in this ship's boat?"

"Blackbeard rescued us. And we borrowed the boat from him, " demurelyanswered Jack, watching the effect of this bombshell of a sensation. 

"_Blackbeard!_" echoed the bedazed shipmaster and the others chimed itlike a chorus. 

"Aye, old Buckets o' Blood hisself, " grinned Joe Hawkridge. "We had himtamed proper when we parted company. First we chased him through a swamptill his tongue hung out and left him mired to the whiskers. Then foranother lark we scared him in his own ship so he begged us on his kneesto forbear. We learned Cap'n Ed'ard Teach his manners, eh, Jack?"

This was too much for the audience which stood agape. A dozen voices atonce implored enlightenment. With a lordly air for a youth whose costumewas mostly one leg of his breeches, Master Cockrell reproved them towit:

"Captain Stede Bonnet was more courteous to our distress when we sailedwith him. He gave us a thumping big breakfast. "

"Right-o, " declared Joe. "'Tis our custom to spin strange yarns forclothes and vittles in payment. "

The men scampered to the galley and pantry but refused to let CaptainWellsby carry these rare entertainers into the cabin. Graciously theysketched the chief events, omitting all mention of the treasure chest, and Jack explained in conclusion:

"And so I was stricken homesick, like an illness, and Joe had his fillof pirates, too. The wind was wrong to rejoin Captain Bonnet in theInlet harbor after we shipped as ghosts in the jolly-boat, and we had amariner's chart of the Carolina coast and----"

"But what did you do for subsistence?" broke in Captain Wellsby. 

"Food and water?" answered Joe. "Oh, we landed when the thirst plaguedus too bad. And there was rain to fill a bight of the sail and apannikin to save it in. "

"And we lived on oysters mostly, " said Jack, "and Joe killed a fatopossum with a club, and we caught some fish in a net which I knottedfrom a ball of marline that was in the boat. And we foraged for pawpawsand persimmons. "

"And whenever the breeze was fair we put to sea again, " said Joe, "andit was a long and weary voyage, though not so many leagues on thechart. "

The captain's boat was ready and they tumbled in, two wayfarers of thesea who were as lean and sun-dried as the buccaneers of old TrimbleRogers' fond memories. Hardships had seasoned and weathered them likegood ash staves. On the wharf was Uncle Peter Forbes and GovernorJohnson and a concourse of townspeople drawn by the joyous signals flownfrom the brigantine. Jack looked in vain for Dorothy Stuart and wasthankful that her welcome was deferred. Shears and a razor andChristian raiment would make him look less like a savage from the coastof Barbary. 

Uncle Peter wasted a vast deal of pity, thinking the castaways too weakand wasted to walk. Jack strode along with him, the crowd at theirheels, and soon had the plump Councilor puffing for breath. Theyinsisted on taking Joe Hawkridge with them although he was for seekinglodgings at the tavern. He was one of the household, declared Mr. Forbes, while Jack warned him to beware of impertinence lest he besentenced to chop wood for the kitchen fire. 

The neighbors and friends, as curious as they were joyful, were barredfrom the house while the lads talked and Uncle Peter carefully madenotes of it all. It was too much for him to realize that Jack wassitting there lusty and laughing and with the dutifully respectfulmanner as of yore, in spite of the man's part he had played to the hilt. Of all the exploits, that which most fascinated Mr. Peter Forbes was thechase after Blackbeard's sea-chest weighty with treasure and thediscovery of the knoll in the Cherokee swamp where he might have buriedother booty. Here was a picaresque romance which allured the methodicalbarrister and Councilor and he was as boyishly excited as his nephew. Heexamined the chart which Jack had copied from his rude sketch made on apiece of bark and this raised a question which he was quick to ask:

"What of Bill Saxby and this old bloodhound of a Trimble Rogers? Assoon as Stede Bonnet could get the _Revenge_ to sea, I have no doubt hesailed to Cape Fear River to get these pirate comrades of yours and theseamen he left to find them. Once aboard, they would urge Bonnet toreturn to Cherokee Inlet and let them go hunt the treasure. "

"That may be, but we can trust them to deal fair by us, " replied Jack. 

"Possibly, " was the skeptical comment. Mr. Forbes was not too ready tobelieve in honest pirates. 

"I'm not sure Cap'n Bonnet had a mind to bother with this treasurehunting, " suggested Joe Hawkridge. "Leastwise, he may ha' put it off toan easier day. He has friends that keep him well informed, such as theGovernor of North Carolina at Bath Town. And all this flurry againstpiratin', here and in Virginia, 'ud be apt to make Cap'n Bonnet wary ofbein' trapped on the coast. "

"Joe is full of wisdom, as usual, " said Master Cockrell. "And ifBlackbeard has cruised to the Spanish Main, as we suspect, the treasuremay lie undisturbed for a while. "

"Concerning Blackbeard, the evidence then in hand warranted yourconclusions, " was Uncle Peter's judicial comment, "but I have receivedlater information. The rumor is, and well-founded, that he turned hisship and made for the Pamlico River with the intention of obtainingpardon from the false and greedy Governor Eden. This would baffle ourplans against him, or so he would assume. And it would enable him toremain within convenient distance of his treasure. "

"Would this Province and Virginia respect such a pardon as that?"queried Jack. 

"Not in the case of Blackbeard, " snapped the Councilor, "because we knowit would be violated as soon as this treacherous villain could safelyreturn to his piracies. "

"Then Joe and I will enlist in the _King George_ brigantine, " criedJack. "Captain Wellsby tells me she will sail for Virginia inside theweek. "

Uncle Peter was about to make violent protest but he checked himself andhis emotions were torn betwixt pride and yearning affection. He couldnot bear to let his nephew go so soon to new perils, but what right hadhe to try to shield him when the public duty called? It was idle topretend that Jack was too young and tender to embark on such service asthis. He was fitter for it than some of the other volunteers. And so theunhappy Uncle Peter walked the floor with his cheeks puffed out and hishands clasped behind him and said, with a tremulous sigh:

"I swore to treat you no more as a child, Jack. 'Tis right and naturalfor you to desire to go in the _King George_ as a fighting man tried andtrue. As for Joe Hawkridge, I have acquainted the Governor with hismerits and his pardon is assured. "

"Thankee, sir, " returned the reformed young pirate. "A respectable lifeis what I crave, and the parson for company. "

"It sounds almost pleasant to me, including the parson, " admitted Jack, "as soon as we shall have settled this matter with Blackbeard. "

CHAPTER XVI

NED RACKHAM'S PLANS GO MUCH AMISS

THE armed brigantine had been out several days on the voyage to Virginiawhen a vessel was sighted hull-down. Captain Wellsby and Colonel Stuartdecided to edge over and take a look at the stranger although they werenot anxious to engage an enemy of heavier metal. If, however, thisshould happen to be Blackbeard in the _Revenge_ they were in no mood toavoid him, despite the odds. After an hour of sailing in a strongbreeze, it was seen that this other vessel was a small merchantman whichshifted her course as though to shake off pursuit. 

"They take us for a pirate, " chuckled Captain Wellsby. "I have no wishto scare 'em, poor souls. They will feel easy as soon as we bring thewind abeam. "

He was about to give the order when Joe Hawkridge, gunner's mate, calledto Jack Cockrell standing his watch at the helm:

"Remember the snow I told ye of? Yonder is the same rig and tonnage, alike it as peas in a pod. "

Jack spoke to the shipmaster who summoned Joe to the quarter-deck. Theboy was confident that this was the New England coasting vessel in whichNed Rackham and his pirates had appeared off Cherokee Inlet and hadcarried the marooned seamen from the sandy cay. 

"A brown patch in the big main-topsail, and the bowsprit steeved more'nordinary, " said Joe. "Tit for tat, Cap'n Wellsby. Your men can have thefun of jamming them in the fo'castle. And you won't find me or Jackhelpin' these picaroons to break out. "

"No fear of that, " sternly spoke the shipmaster. "They shall make theirexit with a taut rope and a long drop when I deliver them in Virginia. "

It was to be gathered that the bold Ned Rackham had failed in hisdesperate enterprise of capturing a larger ship and that he was probablycruising up the coast in hopes of rejoining Blackbeard. The snow had toofew guns to cope with the _King George_ brigantine which could throw abattering broadside. As soon as identification was certain, CaptainWellsby hauled to windward to hold the weather gauge and Colonel Stuartcalled the men to quarters. The _Plymouth Adventure_ hands weredisappointed that they would be unable to pay their own grudge. They hadno doubt that Ned Rackham would strike his colors without a battle. 

The _King George_ ran close enough for Captain Wellsby to shout throughthe trumpet:

"The snow ahoy! Send your men aboard or I'll sink you. No tricks, Rackham. Lively, now. "

They saw the men running to cut the boat lashings and struggle tolaunch the boats from the deck. Ned Rackham, handsome and debonair, stared coolly at the brigantine but gave no sign that he had heard theultimatum. With a shrug he walked across the poop, glanced up at theBritish ensign which flew from his main truck, and made no motion topull it down. 

"Blow your matches, boys, " roared Colonel Stuart from his station in thewaist of the _King George_. "Five minutes' grace, no more. "

Captain Wellsby said to wait a little. The pirates were endeavoring toquit the snow. And presently Rackham appeared to change his own purpose. No longer ignoring the _King George_, he doffed his hat in a gracefulflourish and bowed with a mocking obeisance. Then he strolled to thecabin hatch and went below, presumably to get a change of clothing orsomething of the sort. But he failed to reappear and his men were in afrenzy of haste, with one boat already in the water. 

So incensed was Colonel Stuart by the insolent refusal of Ned Rackham tostrike his colors in token of surrender that he gave orders to fire atthe mainmast and try to bring it down. An instant before the starboardbattery thundered, the snow seemed to fly upwards in a tremendousexplosion. The masts were flung out of her and the hull opened like ashattered basket. So violent was the shock that men were thrown to thedeck of the _King George_ and she quivered as though her bows hadrammed a reef. Black smoke spouted as from a crater and debris raineddown on a boiling sea. 

A few survivors, scorched or half-stunned, were clinging to bits ofwreckage and wailing for succor. Where the snow had floated was adiscolored eddy, broken timbers, a lather of dirty foam. CaptainJonathan Wellsby picked himself up, rubbed a bump on his head, and gazedwildly at the tragic scene. Collecting his wits, he exclaimed:

"That 'ud be like Ned Rackham, to blow up the ship sooner than be takenand hanged. More than likely he had the train all laid to the powderbarrels. "

"He saved us a lot of trouble, " said Colonel Stuart as he climbed to thepoop. "A fellow of iron will and courage, this Rackham, by all accounts. I have conceived a respect for him. "

"I forgive him his sins, " replied the skipper. "Now, lads, boats away, and fish up those dying wretches. "

Joe Hawkridge emitted a jubilant whoop and dived over the rail withoutwaiting for a boat. He had caught a glimpse of a feeble swimmer whosesquare, solid features and bushy brows were familiar. It was PeterTobey, the carpenter's mate, who had befriended him on the cay and whohad set adrift that miraculous cask of food and water. A few strokes andJoe was at his side, clutching him by the neck-band and towing himtoward the _King George_ like a faithful retriever. Ropes were flung tothem and Joe saw his good friend safely aboard before he went up theside. 

The carpenter's mate was both burned and bruised but his hurts were notgrievous and he was able to drag himself aft with Joe as a crutch. 

"My own particular prize, sir, by your gracious leave, " said JoeHawkridge, addressing Captain Wellsby. "This is Mr. Peter Tobey, a poor, faint-hearted pirate like me. May I have him to keep, sir?"

"Bless me, but there will be no pirates left to hang, " was the quizzicalreply. "Master Cockrell has adopted you, and now I am ordered to be kindto Bill Saxby and Trimble Rogers if I meet up with 'em. "

"That's the whole list, sir. Ask Jack Cockrell. You can string the restof the bloody pirates to the yardarm, for all we care. Do I getexemption for this Peter Tobey?"

"What is your verdict, Colonel Stuart?" asked the captain. 

"I heard the tale from Hawkridge, " answered the brusque but generoussoldier. "The carpenter's mate has won my allegiance. What say you inyour own behalf, Peter Tobey?"

The blistered, singed survivor touched a hand to his forehead andrespectfully responded:

"A carpenter by trade and nature, and allus was. I never see one happyday a-piratin' nor did I shed the blood of any human creatur'. With abench and tools, you will find me a proper handy man in Charles Town. "

"That clinches it, " cried Colonel Stuart. "I should call it a crime tohang an artisan like Peter Tobey. Your prize is awarded you, Hawkridge. See that he is well cared for. "

"The first booty that ever was handed me from a sinkin' ship, " said Joe. "Come along, Master Tobey, and roll into my bunk. "

"Verily I was castin' bread upon the waters when I gave that cask to thewind and tide, " devoutly murmured the carpenter's mate as he limpedbelow with his new owner. 

No more than a dozen other pirates were rescued alive and several ofthese expired soon after they were lifted aboard the brigantine. Thiswas the only sensational incident of the coastwise voyage to the JamesRiver. Comfortably quartered, with no more work than was wholesome, JackCockrell and Joe Hawkridge thought it a holiday excursion after theirprevious adventures at sea. 

In the roadstead of the James were two men-of-war, small frigates flyingthe broad pennant of the Royal Navy. A conference was held in the cabinof the senior officer, to which Captain Wellsby and Colonel Stuart wereinvited. The latest advices made it seem certain that Blackbeard stilllurked off the coast of the Carolinas. Planters had reported seeing hisship in Pamlico Sound and it was also learned that he had been incommunication with the disloyal Governor Eden at Bath Town. A letter hadbeen intercepted, in handwriting of the Governor's secretary, andaddressed to Captain Teach, which included these words:

"_I have sent you four of your men. They are all I can meet with abouttown. Be upon your guard. _"

This was readily construed to mean that Blackbeard was in haste torecall such of his crew as had strayed ashore. At the council of war inthe frigate's cabin, a proclamation was read. It offered a handsomereward for the capture of Captain Edward Teach, dead or alive, andlesser rewards for other pirates. 

It was the decision that the two frigates were unhandy for cruisinginshore. Therefore officers and men would be chosen from them to fillthe complements of two sloops, light and active craft which would beunhampered by batteries of cannon. They would be employed for boardingBlackbeard's ship while the Charles Town brigantine _King George_ shouldconvoy them and engage in the attack if the depth of water shouldpermit. The naval officer selected to command the sloops was LieutenantMaynard who went off to the _King George_ to inspect her and make a callof courtesy. 

He was especially cordial to Master Cockrell and Gunner's Mate JoeHawkridge, laying aside the stiff dignity of naval rank. To hispersuasive argument that they enter the royal service with promise ofquick promotion, they turned a deaf ear although they were wonderfullytaken with him. He was a gentle, soft-spoken young man with a boyishsmile who blushed when pressed to talk of his own exploits against theSpanish, the Dutch, and the French in Britannia's wooden walls. His ownquestions were mostly about Blackbeard's fighting quality. Would he makea stand against disciplined tars who were accustomed to close in, hammer-and-tongs? Joe Hawkridge answered to this:

"I ne'er saw him in action against a king's ship, and all his wildnonsense is apt to delude ye into thinkin' him a drunken play-actor. Butyou will never take him alive, so long as those bandy legs have strengthto prop him up. "

"I look forward to meeting him with a deal of pleasure. It may be mygood fortune to measure swords with him, " observed Lieutenant Maynard. 

Joe Hawkridge was puzzled by this gentle fire-eater with the complexionof a girl. Nothing could have been more unlike the ramping, roaringpirates of Blackbeard's dirty crew who tried to terrify by their veryappearance. After the lieutenant had returned to his frigate, JackCockrell remarked:

"A most misleading man, Joe. You cannot picture him seeking the bubblereputation at the cannon's mouth, as Will Shakespeare saith. "

"Blackbeard will bite him in two, " replied Joe. "He is too pretty to berisked in such a slaughter pen. I own up to feelin' squeamish on my ownaccount, hardy pirate though I be. "

"This Lieutenant Maynard is welcome to measure swords with Blackbeard, "said Jack, "and I shall not quarrel with him for the honor. Pick me apirate with a wooden leg, Joe, or one that still shakes with Spanishfever. "

"My only chance of getting out with a whole skin is to lug a sack offlour under one arm and play the ghost o' Jesse Strawn. "

Expeditiously the brigantine and the two sloops sailed out of the JamesRiver to head for the North Carolina coast and first rake the nooks andbays of Pamlico Sound. There was no intention of offering Blackbeardfair odds in battle. With men and vessels enough it was resolved toexterminate him, like ridding a house of rats or other vermin. If he hadgone out to sea, then the pursuers would wait and watch for his returnto his favorite haunts in these waters. There was every reason tobelieve, however, that he was concealed inshore, within easy distance ofhis friend Governor Eden. 

Failing to find him in Pamlico Sound, it was debated whether to cruisefarther to the southward. Now Master Jack Cockrell and his chum had saidnothing to the officers concerning the treasure in the Cherokee swamp. They felt bound in honor not to reveal it without the consent of BillSaxby and old Trimble Rogers who were partners in the enterprise. Moreover, Lieutenant Maynard and the Virginia officers would feel boundto turn the treasure over to the crown or its representatives. GovernorEden of North Carolina would undoubtedly claim it as found within histerritory and this meant that he would steal most of it for himself. 

It thrilled the lads when Colonel Stuart told them that this Provincialsquadron would cruise as far as Cherokee Inlet before working to thenorthward again. Information had led the officers to believe thatBlackbeard had lost many men by desertion while his ship lay at BathTown and near by. They had been roving about the plantations and makinga nuisance of themselves and seemed ready to quit their red-handeddespot of a master. In this event he might have sought his oldhiding-place at the Inlet sooner than risk a clash with the force whichhad been sent after him and of which he had been warned by GovernorEden. 

Lieutenant Maynard scouted in advance with the two sloops because therewas small danger of their getting aground and they could be moved alongwith oars if the wind failed. The brigantine kept further offshore butwithin signaling distance. She was running within sight of thescattering barrier of low islands when Captain Wellsby summoned JoeHawkridge and informed him:

"You will act as pilot, Joe, once we fetch sounding on the Twelve FathomBank. The chart is faulty, as ye know, and me and my mates are instrange waters with a'mighty little elbow-room. You know the marks, Itake it. "

"Aye, sir, I do that, " answered Joe. "Then I stays aboard ship and missthe chance to go pokin' about with a cutlass? I'm all screwed up toterrible deeds, Cap'n Wellsby, after a spell o' mortal fear. And whotakes care of Master Cockrell if he goes in a boat?"

"His own lusty right arm, Joe. Avast with your melancholy. We must firstcatch this Blackbeard. "

Presently Joe Hawkridge footed it up the main shrouds to scan the seaahead and try to get a glimpse of that sandy bit of exposed shoal onwhich he had been marooned. This would enable him to find the entranceto the outer channel and so con the brigantine in from seaward. While heshaded his eyes with his hand against the glare of the morning sun, oneof the sloops hoisted a string of bright signal flags and fired twoguns. The other sloop was seen to lower her topsail and wait for the_King George_ to come up. 

Joe Hawkridge climbed higher and found a perch where he could discernthe spars of a vessel etched almost as fine as threads against the azurehorizon. He was almost certain that the ship he saw was very close tothat tiny cay of which he had such unhappy knowledge. Soon he was ableto perceive that the vessel's sails were furled. This was an odd placefor an anchorage. His conjecture was confirmed when the _King George_passed close to the nearest sloop and Lieutenant Maynard shouted:

"Stranded hard and fast! And she is deucedly like Blackbeard's brig. "

Scampering to the deck, Joe Hawkridge mustered his gun's crew as JackCockrell came running up to say:

"Trapped on the very islet where he cast you and the other pirates! Hischickens have come home to roost. "

"Call me no pirate or I'll stretch ye with a handspike, " grinned Joe. "'Tis a plaguey poor word in this company. Aye, Cap'n Ed'ard Teach has ataste of his own medicine and he will get a worse dose this day thanever he served me. "

CHAPTER XVII

THE GREAT FIGHT OF CAPTAIN TEACH

YES, there was Blackbeard's ship hard in the sand which had gripped herkeel while she was steering to enter the Cherokee Inlet. There was nopearly vapor of swamp mist out here to shroud her from attack. The airwas clear and bright, with a robust breeze which stirred a flashing surfon the shoals. Under lower sails, the two sloops watchfully crept neareruntil their crews could examine the stranded brig and read the story ofher plight. She stood on a slant with the decks sloped toward the enemy. This made it impossible to use her guns with any great effect. 

Captain Wellsby tacked ship and kept the _King George_ well away fromthe cay, as Joe Hawkridge advised. With an ebbing tide, it was unsafe toventure into shallower water in order to pound Blackbeard's vessel withbroadsides. Lieutenant Maynard came aboard in a small boat and was quitethe dandy with his brocaded coat and ruffles and velvet small-clothes. One might have thought he had engaged to dance the minuet. ColonelStuart met him in a spick-and-span uniform of His Majesty's Foot, cross-belts pipe-clayed white as snow, boots polished until they shone. Such gentlemen were punctilious in war two hundred years ago. 

"Your solid shot will not pound him much at this range, my good sir, "said the lieutenant. "With his hull so badly listed toward us, you canno more than splinter the decks while his men take shelter below. "

"I grant you that, " regretfully replied the soldier. "And case-shot willnot scatter to do him much harm. Shall I blaze away and demoralize therascals whilst you make ready your boats?"

"Toss a few rounds into the varlets, Colonel Stuart. It may keep themfrom massing on deck. One boat from your ship, if it please you, withtwenty picked men. I shall take twenty men from each sloop as boarders. "

"Sixty in all?" queried the colonel. "Why not take a hundred?"

"They would be tumbling over one another, --too much confusion. This isnot a large vessel yonder. We must have room on deck to swing and cut. "

"I will have my men away in ten minutes, Lieutenant Maynard, " crisplyreplied the blonde, raw-boned Scotsman with a finger at his hat-brim incourteous salute. He proceeded to call the men by name, strapping, soberfellows who had followed the sea amid the frequent perils of themerchant service. Jack Cockrell was the only landsman and he feltgreatly honored that he should be included. Gone was his unmanlytrepidation. Was he more worthy to live than these humble seamen whofought to make the ocean safer for other voyagers, who were true kinsmenof the Elizabethan heroes of blue water? He tarried a moment to wringJoe Hawkridge's hand in farewell and to tell him:

"If I have ill luck in this adventure, old comrade, --do you mindpresenting my best compliments, and--and a fond farewell to MistressDorothy Stuart?"

"Strike me, Jack, stow that or you'll have me blubberin', " said Joe. "Bring me a lock of Cap'n Teach's whiskers as a token for my lass inFayal if ever I clap eyes on her again. And you'd best take this heavycutlass which I whetted a-purpose for ye. 'Twill split a pirate likeslicin' an apple. "

With this useful gift in his hand, Master Cockrell swung himself intothe boat where Colonel Stuart stood in the stern-sheets. Perhaps he, too, was dwelling on a fair maid named Dorothy who might be leftfatherless before the sun climbed an hour higher. The sloops were movingnearer the cay under sail and oar, trailing their crowded boats behindthem. Blackbeard had hauled two or three of his guns into such positionsthat he could open fire but the sloops crawled doggedly into the shoalwater and so screened their boats until these were ready to cast off forthe final dash. 

It was a rare sea picture, the stranded brig with canvas loose on theyards and ropes streaming, her listed decks a-swarm with pirates inoutlandish, vari-colored garb, the surf playing about her in a brightdazzle and the gulls screaming overhead. The broad, squat figure ofBlackbeard himself was never more conspicuous. He no longer strutted thequarter-deck but was all over the ship, menacing his men with hispistols, shifting them in groups for defense, shouldering bags ofmunitions, or heaping up the grenades and stink-pots to be lighted andthrown into the attacking boats. 

It was his humor to adorn himself more elaborately than usual. Under hisbroad hat with the great feather in it he had stuck lengths of towmatches which were all sputtering and burning so that he ran to and froin a cloud of sparks and smoke like that Evil One whom he professed toadmire. He realized, no doubt, that this was likely to be his laststand. The inferno which he was so fond of counterfeiting, fairly yawnedat his feet. 

And now the sloops let go their anchors while from astern of themappeared the three boats of the assailants. They steered wide of eachother to seek different parts of the pirate brig and so divideBlackbeard's force. The boats of Colonel Stuart and Lieutenant Maynardwere racing for the honor of first place alongside. Blackbeard trainedtwo guns on them, filled with grape and chain-shot, and one boat wasshattered but it swam long enough for the cheering men to pull it to thebrig and toss their grapples to the rail which was inclined quite closeto the water. They were in the surf which broke against the ship, butthis was a mere trifle. 

Most of them went up the side like cats, leaping for the chains anddead-eyes, slashing at the nettings, swinging by a rope's end, ordigging their toes in a crack of a gun-port. Forward they were pouringover the bowsprit, vaulting like acrobats from the anchor stocks, orswarming up the stays. It seemed beyond belief that they could gainfooting on the decks with Blackbeard's demons stabbing and hacking andshooting at them, but in such manner as this was many a great sea fightwon in the brave days of old. 

Lieutenant Maynard gained his lodgment in the bows amid a swirl ofpirates who tried to pen him in front of the forecastle house. But histars of the Royal Navy were accustomed to close quarters and theystraightway made room for themselves. Chest to chest and hand to handthey hewed their way toward the waist of the ship where Colonel Stuartraged like the braw, bonny Highlander that he was. Almost at the sametime, the third boat had made fast under the jutting stern gallery andits twenty men were piling in through the cabin windows like so manyhuman projectiles. 

In the _King George_ brigantine, Captain Jonathan Wellsby fidgeted andgnawed his lip, with a telescope at his eye, while he watched theconflict in which he could scarce distinguish friend from foe. He couldsee Blackbeard charge aft to rally his men and then whirl back to lungeinto the mêlée where towered Colonel Stuart's tall figure. The powdersmoke from pistols and muskets drifted in a thin blue haze. JoeHawkridge was fairly shaking with nervousness as he said to theskipper:

"There'll be no clearing the decks 'less they down that monster of aCap'n Teach. And he has more lives than a cat. See you my dear crony, Master Jack?"

"No, I cannot make him out in that mad turmoil, " replied CaptainWellsby. "Nip and tuck, I call it, Joe. "

This was the opinion forced upon Lieutenant Maynard as he saw theengagement resolve itself into a series of bloody whirlpools, his seamenand the pirates intermingled. He won his way past the forecastle intothe wider spaces of the deck, with only a few of his twenty tars ontheir feet. Colonel Stuart was hard pressed and the boarders who hadcome over the stern had as much as they could do to hold their own. Thusfar the issue was indecisive. 

Jack Cockrell had kept close to the colonel, and felt amazement that hewas still alive. His cheek was laid open, a bullet had torn his thigh, and a powder burn streaked his neck, but he felt these hurts not at all. It was a nightmare from which there seemed no escape. He saw Blackbeardrush at him with a raucous shout of:

"The scurvy young cockerel! He will ne'er crow again. "

Colonel Stuart sprang between them, blades clashed, and they were sweptapart in another wave of jostling combat. A moment later the colonelslipped and fell as a coal-black negro chopped at him with a brokencutlass. Jack Cockrell flew at him and they wrestled until a hip-lockthrew the negro to the deck, where the colonel made him one pirate less. 

Formidable as these outlaws were, they lacked the stern cohesion whichhad been drilled into the sailors of the Royal Navy and likewise learnedin the hard school of the merchant service. Very slowly the odds wereshifting against Blackbeard's crew. It was unmistakable when LieutenantMaynard cut his way through to join Colonel Stuart, while the thirdgroup of boarders was advancing little by little from the after quarter. This meant that the force was gradually uniting in spite of the furiousefforts to scatter it. 

And now there came an episode which lives in history two centuries afterthat scene of carnage on the decks of the stranded brig. It haspreserved the name of a humble lieutenant of the Royal Navy and saved itfrom the oblivion which is the common lot of most brave men who do anddare when duty beckons. 

Blackbeard was bleeding from a dozen wounds and yet his activity wasunabated. He was like a grizzly bear at bay. His men began to believethat his league with Satan, of which he obscenely boasted, had made himinvulnerable. He was all that he had proclaimed himself to be, thewickedest and most fearsome pirate of the Western Ocean. And all thewhile, the slender, boyish Lieutenant Maynard, sailor and gentleman, hadone aim in mind, and that was to slay Captain Edward Teach with his ownhand. Nor was he at all content until he had cleared a path to where thehairy pirate was playing havoc with his broadsword. 

With a loud laugh in mockery, Blackbeard snatched a loaded pistol fromone of his men and fired at this foppish young officer who presumed tosingle him out. The ball chipped Maynard's ear and he dodged the pistolwhich was hurled at his head. It was curious to note a lull in thegeneral engagement, a little interval of suspense while men regainedtheir breath or tried to staunch their wounds. They were unconsciouslyawaiting the verdict of this duel between their leaders. Jack Cockrell, for instance, finding himself alone by some chance, leaned against astanchion and heard his own blood drip--drip--on the deck. 

It was a fleeting respite. Blackbeard swung his sword, with the might ofthose wide shoulders behind it. The lieutenant stepped aside likelightning and the bright weapon whistled past his arm. Then they went ateach other like blacksmiths, sparks flying as steel bit steel. Dexterityand a cool wit were a match for the pirate's untamable strength. Gory, snarling, Blackbeard shortened his stroke to use the point. Thelieutenant dropped to one knee, thrust upward, and found a vital spot. 

Blackbeard stood staring at him with wonder in his eyes. Then thosethick, bowed legs gave way and he toppled like a tree uprooted. Hepassed out quietly enough, with no more cursing, and in this last momentof sensibility his thoughts appeared to wander far to his youth as abrisk merchant seaman out of Bristol port, for he was heard to mutter, with a long sigh:

"A pretty babe as ever was, Mollie, and the mortal image of its mother. "

To his waist the sable beard covered him like a pall and one corded armwas flung across his breast and it showed the design of the skull andcross-bones pricked in India ink. Then as if the dead leader had issuedthe command, the surviving pirates began to fling down their weapons andloudly cry for quarter. They need not have felt ashamed of theresistance they had made up to this time, but now the delirium of combathad slackened and Blackbeard was no more. One or two of his officerswere alive and they knew that the game was lost. Reinforcements could besent from the sloops and the brigantine as soon as they were signaledfor. And there was no flight from a stranded ship. Blackbeard had beenable to infuse them with his own madness. Better chance the gallows thanno quarter. 

Here and there a few of the most desperate dogs of the Spanish Main whohad followed Blackbeard's fortunes a long time, refused to surrender butthey were either shot down or overpowered. Captain Wellsby was sendingoff two boats from the _King George_ with his surgeon, and the sloopswere kedging in closer to the cay with the rising tide. Half the seamenwere beyond aid and of the pirates no more than twenty were alive. JackCockrell was thankful to have come off so lightly, and he consoledhimself with the notion that a scar across his cheek would be a manlymemento. Colonel Stuart had been several times wounded but 'tis hardkilling a Highlander. 

It was Lieutenant Maynard's duty to offer public proof that he had slainnone other than the infamous Blackbeard, wherefore he made no protestwhen his armorer hacked off the head of the dead pirate. There was nofeeling of chivalry due a fallen foe, valiant though his end had been. This horrid trophy was tied at the end of a sloop's bowsprit, to bedisplayed for the gratification of all honest sailormen who might beholdit in port. It was not a gentle age on blue water and Captain EdwardTeach had been the death of many helpless people during his wickedcareer. 

Lieutenant Maynard announced that he would take the two sloops into BathTown, before proceeding to Virginia, as they were overcrowded vesselsand the survivors of the boarding party needed proper care ashore. Itwould also afford the unscrupulous Governor Eden of North Carolina anopportunity to see his friend, Captain Teach, as a pirate who woulddivide no more plundered merchandise with him. 

The brigantine _King George_ was ready to escort them into PamlicoSound, after which she would sail for Charles Town. Before thedeparture from the entrance of Cherokee Inlet, the stranded vessel wasset afire and blazed grandly as the funeral pyre of Blackbeard's stoutlads who would go no more a-roving. 

Never was a nurse more devoted than Joe Hawkridge when his comrade wasmercifully restored to him. Jack was woefully pale and weak but inblithe spirits and thankful to have seen the last of Blackbeard. 

"Hulled in the leg and a damaged figger-head, " said Joe, as he sat onthe edge of the hero's bunk. "Triflin', I call it, when I expected tosee you come aboard feet first wrapped in a bit o' canvas. "

"I don't want to talk about it, Joe. Let's find something pleasant. Hofor Charles Town, and the green trees and a bench in the shade. "

"And a tidy little vessel after a while, you and me and the Councilora-pleasurin' up the coast with men and gear to fish up the treasurechest. "

"And you believe that Blackbeard never got back to the Inlet to save thetreasure for himself?" asked Jack. 

"Not the way his ship was headed when she struck the shoal. "

The brigantine was well on her way to Charles Town when Captain Wellsbyfound that Master Cockrell could be carried into the comfortable maincabin to rest on a cushioned settle for an hour or two at a time. It wasduring one of these visits, when Joe Hawkridge was present, that theskipper remembered to say:

"Here is a bit of memorandum which may entertain you lads. LieutenantMaynard had Blackbeard's quarters searched before the brig was burned. Some valuable stuff was found, but nothing what you'd call a pirate'streasure. "

The lads looked at each other but kept their own counsel and CaptainWellsby went on to explain:

"There was a private log, Blackbeard's own journal, with a few entriesin it, and most of the leaves torn out. I made a copy of what could beread, for the late Captain Teach was a better pirate than scrivener. Here, Jack, you are the scholar. "

Jack read aloud this extract, which was about what might have beenexpected:

"_Such a day! Rum all out, --our company somewhat sober. A confusionamongst us, --rogues a-plotting--great talk of separation. So I lookedsharp for a prize. Took one, with a great deal of liquor on board, sokept the company hot, very hot. Then all things went well again. _"

"That sounds familiar enough to me, " was Joe Hawkridge's comment. "Andthe rest of his writing will be much like it. "

"Not so fast, " exclaimed Captain Wellsby. "Scan the next page, Jack. 'Twill fetch you up all standing. Not that it puts gold in our pockets, for we know not where to search, but I swear it will make your eyessparkle and your mouth water. "

Trying to hide his excitement, Jack saw a kind of rough inventory, andit ran like this:

 "Where I Hid Itt This Cruse:

 1 Bag 54 Silver Barrs. 1 Bag 79 Barrs & Peaces of Silver. 

 1 Bag Coyned Gold. 1 Bag Dust Gold. 2 Bags Gold Barrs. 

 1 Bag Silver Rings & Sundry Precious Stones. 3 Bags Unpolyshed Stones. 

 1 Silver Box set with Diamonds. 4 Golden Lockets. 

 Also 1 Silver Porringer--2 Gold Boxons--7 Green Stones--Rubies Great & Small 67--P'cl Peaces of Eight & Dollars--Also 1 Bag Lump Silver--a Small Chaine--a corral Necklace--1 Bag English Crowns. "

Captain Jonathan Wellsby listened to this luscious recital with an airof mild amusement. He was of a temper too stolid and sensible to wastehis time on random treasure hunting. Blackbeard might have chosen hishiding-place anywhere along hundreds of leagues of coast. He couldunderstand the agitation of these two adventurous lads to whom thismemorandum was like a magic spell. Of such was the spirit of youth. 

"Any more of it?" demanded Joe Hawkridge. 

"The next page was ripped out of the journal, " answered the skipper. "What cruise did he mean? If it was this last one, he may have hid it onthe Virginia or Carolina coast. "

Master Cockrell gave it as an excuse that he had sat up long enough andwould return to his bunk. He was fairly bursting for a conference withJoe, and as soon as they were alone he exclaimed:

"It may be the sea-chest! What do you think?"

"A handsome clue, I call it, something to warm the cockles of yourheart, " grinned the sea urchin. "Aye, Jack, I should wager he wrote thatdown whilst he lay at anchor in Cherokee Inlet. "

"It seems shabby of us to keep the secret from Captain Wellsby, butthere is an obligation on us----"

"To Bill Saxby and the old sea wolf, " said Joe. "We'll not forget thistrump of a skipper when it comes to splittin' up the treasure. "

"I am anxious for Captain Bonnet and his crew, " remarked Jack. "Withthis crusade against pirates afoot, our friends may be hanged before wesee them again. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE OLD BUCCANEER IS LOYAL

SORROW mingled with rejoicing when the _King George_ brigantine sailedinto Charles Town harbor. The sea fight off Cherokee Inlet had taken aheavy toll of brave seamen and there were vacant chairs and achinghearts ashore, but the fiendish Blackbeard had been blotted out andwould no more harry the coast. Small and rude as was this pioneersettlement, it was most fair and attractive to the eyes of young MasterCockrell and Joe Hawkridge. In the house of Uncle Peter Forbes theyrested at their ease and planned sedate careers for themselves. 

Even the treasure ceased to be uppermost in their lively discussions. Itcould wait a while. They were no longer under the spell of itsinfluence. This different world in which they now dwelt so contentedlymade their adventures seem like shadowy figments with precious littleromance in them. And neither lad expressed any great anxiety to goexploring the noisome Cherokee swamp and to challenge the ghost ofBlackbeard. 

Without a sign of rebellion, Jack returned to his books and lessons inParson Throckmorton's garden. The learning already acquired he began topass on to Joe Hawkridge, who was a zealous pupil and determined toread and write and cipher without letting the grass grow under his feet. It was this young pirate's ambition to make a shipping merchant ofhimself, and Councilor Forbes found him employment in a warehouse wherethe planters traded their rice, resin, and indigo for the variedmerchandise brought out from England. Jack aspired to manage his uncle'splantation and to acquire lands of his own and some day to sit in theGovernor's Council. 

Of a Sunday morning he went to the little English church, dressed in hisbest and using a cane, for he limped from the wound in his thigh. JoeHawkridge walked with him, careful to banish his grin, and sat in theCouncilor's pew where he paid proper attention to the prayers andresponses. This caused some gossip but the ocean waif was winning hisway to favor by dint of industry, a shrewd wit, and his perennial goodhumor. 

Frequently they escorted fair Dorothy Stuart home from church. She wasfonder than ever of stalwart Master Cockrell because the colonel hadtold her he would have been a dead man had not the lad intervened tosave him from the stroke of a negro pirate. Alas, however, it was notthat sentimental devotion for which the lovelorn Jack yearned, and heconfided to Joe that his existence was blighted. This evoked no sympathyfrom the fickle Hawkridge, who was forgetting his black-eyed lass in theAzores and was already a slave to Dorothy Stuart. She laughed at themboth and was their true friend, tender, and whimsical and anxious fortheir welfare. It was a valuable chapter in their education. 

One morning while Joe was at work in the warehouse near the harbor, heheard a commotion in the street and was about to run out when hisemployer came in and explained:

"Two pirates captured, --just as I happened to pass. The knaves landedfrom a boat in broad daylight, unaware that Charles Town has mended itsloose habit toward such gentry. "

"What will be done with 'em?" quickly asked Joe, with an unhappypremonition. 

"They were recognized as two of Stede Bonnet's old hands that used toresort to the tavern. Soldiers of the Governor's guard have been sentfor to drag them to the gaol. "

Joe hastened out but slackened his pace to lag behind the crowd ofidlers who were jostling the prisoners along with hoots and jeers. Yes, there was the tall, gaunt frame and gray head of old Trimble Rogerswhose mien was so forbidding and masterful that the mob forbore tohandle him too roughly, unarmed though he was. At his elbow trudgedchubby Bill Saxby, gazing about him with those wide blue eyes in whichwas not a trace of guile. Joe realized that for him to intercede wouldmake matters worse. He was a reformed pirate on probation and was knownto have sailed with Blackbeard himself. 

Therefore he darted into another street and sped to find Jack Cockrell, who chanced to be at home. They rushed into the room where Uncle PeterForbes was writing at his desk and informed him that their two staunchcomrades had come ashore to find them and were already in custody andsomething must be done to save them from the wrath of Governor Johnson, who had a mortal distaste for pirates still at large. The Councilorcalmed the perturbation by assuring them:

"I have already spoken to His Excellency in behalf of these two menshould they appear in this port. He was not wholly pleased but promisedclemency should they offer to repent and if I gave surety for thepledge. "

"They will be ready to live as respectable as Joe, " impetuously declaredMaster Cockrell. "I'll go bail on it. Bill Saxby is a tradesman bynature and if you will lend him enough money to set himself up as alinen-draper and haberdasher, Uncle Peter, he can live happily everafter. "

"And old Trimble Rogers has sailed his last cruise under the JollyRoger, Councilor, " put in Joe Hawkridge. "His timbers are full o' dryrot and he seeks a safe mooring. "

"There seems no end to the bad company you drag me into, " quoth UnclePeter. "My hat and broadcloth cloak, Jack, and let us fare to the gaoland see what these awkward visitors have to say. After that I willattend upon the Governor. "

In better spirits the anxious lads followed the dignified Secretary ofthe Council to the strongly built gaol on the edge of the town. In avery gloomy cell behind iron bars they found the luckless brace ofpirates, shackled hand and foot. Bill Saxby took it like a placidphilosopher but the ancient buccaneer was spitting Spanish oaths andcondemning the hospitality of Charles Town in violent terms. He quietedinstantly at sight of his young friends and the harsh, wrinkled visagefairly beamed as he shouted:

"Our _camaradas_, Bill. Here they be, to haul us out of this filthyhole! I forgive the unmannerly folks that allus used to welcome us. "

They shook hands through the bars while Uncle Peter stood aside. He feltthat his official station forbade his joining this fraternal reunion. Inthe narrow corridor he chatted with the gaoler to pass the time whileBill Saxby was explaining to the lads:

"We was in duty bound, in a manner of speakin', to run you down as soonas possible and make a report. Eh, Trimble?"

"Aye, Bill, to see what was to be done about the treasure. We wouldn'thave 'em think we had run off with it. D'ye see, Master Cockrell, me andBill took Cap'n Bonnet into our confidence. He is an honorable man andto be mentioned along with the great Cap'n Ed'ard Davis what I wasshipmates with in the South Sea and at the sack of----"

"Stow it, grandsire, " cried Bill. "I don't want to linger in gaol whileyou spin that long-winded yarn. Tell the lads what they want to know. "

"If I weren't chained to the wall, Bill, I'd put my fist in your eye, "severely retorted the veteran. "As I was a-sayin', Cap'n Bonnet was allcourtesy and allowed the treasure belonged to us and he was ready tohelp find it. "

"We told him we had to join up with our gentleman partner, MasterCockrell, and win his consent, " said Bill, "afore we put our hooks onthat blessed sea-chest. "

"Which is exactly how I felt about you, " Jack told them and he wasgreatly touched by this proof of their unbending fidelity. "But how didyou manage it to reach Charles Town?"

"Cap'n Bonnet hove to outside the bar last night, " explained TrimbleRogers, "and gave us a handy boat to sail in with. "

The wary Joe Hawkridge took alarm at this and put a finger to his lips. It was unwise to parade the fact that Stede Bonnet cruised so near. HisExcellency, the Governor, was anxious that he should share the fate ofBlackbeard. Jack Cockrell had no fear that his Uncle Peter would be atale-bearer. His private honor would forbid because this interview withthe two lads was a privileged communication. What made Jack a trifleanxious was the presence of the gaol keeper in the corridor. He was asneaking sort of man, soft of tread and oily of speech and inclined tocurry favor with those in authority. 

Councilor Peter Forbes had tactfully withdrawn this person beyondearshot but he began to edge toward the cell. Old Trimble Rogers triedto heed Joe's cautionary signal but what he meant to be a whisper was ahoarse rumble as he explained:

"Cap'n Bonnet sends word he will be off this coast again in thirty days. He will come ashore hisself, to Sullivan's Island to get the answer, whether you are to go with us, Master Cockrell, to Cherokee Inlet. "

Jack glanced at the gaol keeper but he was a dozen feet away and deep intalk with Mr. Forbes. There was no sign that this confidence had beenoverheard. Bill Saxby scolded the buccaneer for his careless speech butthe old man had been a freebooter too long to be easily tamed. Withartful design, Jack led him away from this dangerous ground andsuggested:

"You are done with pirating? And will you both be ready to stay ashorein Charles Town after this, --this certain errand is accomplished?"

"I swear it gladly and on my own Bible, " answered Trimble Rogers. 

"Swear it for me, " said Bill Saxby. 

Mr. Forbes interrupted and told the lads to go home and await hisconference with Governor Johnson. It proved to be a session somewhatstormy but the upshot was a pardon conditioned on good behavior. Theconvincing argument was that these men had been faithful to MasterCockrell through thick and thin and had saved him from perishing in theCherokee swamp. Moreover, it might be an inducement to others of StedeBonnet's crew to surrender themselves and forsake their evil ways. 

No sooner were these two pirates released from gaol than they found anactive friend in Mr. Peter Forbes. He went about it quietly, for obviousreasons, but he felt under great obligation to them for their goodnessto his nephew. Just at this time one of the shop-keepers became abankrupt because of unthrifty habits and too much card-playing. Throughan agent, Peter Forbes purchased the stock of muslins and calicos, ofbrocades and taffetas, calash bonnets, satin petticoats, shoe-buckles, laces, and buttons. And having given his promissory notes for saidmerchandise, Bill Saxby proudly hung his own sign-board over the door. 

There was a flutter among the ladies. Here was a noteworthy sensation, to be served by an obsequious pirate with innocent blue eyes who hadsailed the Spanish Main. A few days and it was evident that WilliamSaxby, late of London, would conduct a thriving trade. He was fairlyenraptured with his good fortune and congenial occupation and took itmost amiably when Jack Cockrell or Joe Hawkridge sauntered in to teasehim. He was a disgrace to Stede Bonnet, said they, and never had apirate fallen to such a low estate as this. 

Trimble Rogers was in no situation to rant at smug William, the linendraper. The old sea wolf who had outlived the most glorious era of thestoried buccaneers, had a few gold pieces tucked away in his belt and atfirst he was content to loaf about the tavern, with an audience tolisten to his wondrous tales which ranged from Henry Morgan to the greatCaptain Edward Davis. But he had never been a sot or an idler and soonhe found himself lending a hand to assist the landlord in this way orthat. And when disorder occurred, a word from this gray, hawk-eyed roverwas enough to quell the wildest roisterers from the plantations. 

Children strayed to the tavern green to sit upon his knee and twistthose fierce mustachios of his, and their mothers ceased to snatch themaway when they learned to know him better. Sometimes in his leisurehours he pored over his tattered little Bible with muttering lips andfound pleasure in the Psalmist's denunciation of his enemies who wereundoubtedly Spaniards in some other guise. He puttered about the flowerbeds with spade and rake and kept the bowling green clipped close with akeen sickle. In short, there was a niche for Trimble Rogers in his oldage and he seemed well satisfied to fill it, just as Admiral Benbowspent his time among his posies at Deptford when he was not bombardingor blockading the French fleet off Dunkirk. 

Jack Cockrell halted for a chat while passing the tavern and these twoshipmates retired to a quiet corner of the porch. The blind fiddler wasplying a lively bow and a dozen boys and girls danced on the turf. Trimble Rogers surveyed them with a fatherly aspect as he said:

"They ain't afeard of me, Jack, not one of 'em. Was ever a worn out oldhulk laid up in a fairer berth?"

"None of the sea fever left, Trimble? What about Captain Bonnet? He isdue off the bar two days hence. My uncle frowns upon my sailing with himto seek the treasure. He insists that I steer clear of pirates. "

"And that's entirely proper, Jack. I look at things different like, nowI be a worthy citizen. 'Tis better to fit out a little expedition of ourown, if we can drag silly Bill out of his rubbishy shop. "

"Oh, he will come fast enough after a while. We are all tired of the seajust now, " said Jack. "What about Captain Bonnet and meeting him atSullivan's Island to pass the word that we must decline his courteousinvitation?"

"I shall tend to that, " answered the retired buccaneer, "And from whatgossip I glean in the tavern, Cap'n Bonnet had best steer for his homeport of Barbadoes and quit his fancy piratin'. This fractious Governorhas set his heart on hangin' him. And Colonel Stuart is up and aboutagain and has ordered the _King George_ to fit for sea. 'Tis rumored hehas sent messages to the north'ard for Lieutenant Maynard to sailanother cruise in his company. "

"Then be sure you warn Stede Bonnet, " strongly advised Jack. "I wouldnot be disloyal to the Province or to mine own good uncle, but one goodturn deserves another. "

Two days after this, Trimble Rogers vanished from the tavern and foundJack's canoe tied in a cove beyond the settled part of the town. It wasin the evening of this same day that Jack was reading in his room bycandle-light when a tap-tap on the window shutter startled him. He threwit open and dimly perceived that Dorothy Stuart stood there. Her facewas white in the gloom and she wore a dress of some dark stuff. At herbeckoning gesture, Jack slipped through the window and silently led herinto the lane. 

"Oh, Jack, I have been so torn betwixt scruples, " she softly confided. "And I hope I am not doing wrong. If I am disloyal to my dear father, may I be forgiven. But I have made myself believe that there is astronger obligation. "

"It concerns Stede Bonnet, " murmured Jack, reading the motive of thissecret errand. 

"Yes, you are bound to befriend him, Jack, on your honor as agentleman. "

"He has been warned to keep clear of Charles Town, Dorothy. TrimbleRogers has gone off to meet him. "

"But it is worse than that. The keeper of the gaol, Jason Cutter, wascloseted with my father this morning. I heard something that was said. Soldiers have been sent to Sullivan's Island. "

"To capture Captain Bonnet?" wrathfully exclaimed Jack. "Did ColonelStuart go with them? Does he know why Stede Bonnet risks putting intothis harbor in a small boat? It is to do a deed of pure friendship andchivalry. "

"All my father understands is what the gaoler reported, " repliedDorothy, "and the Governor acted on this evidence. No, he did not gowith the troops but sent a major in command. "

"Too late for me to be of service, alas! If they take Captain Bonnetalive, he will most certainly hang. And Bill Saxby and Trimble Rogerswill be embroiled in some desperate attempt to aid his escape fromgaol. "

"I am a dreadful, wicked girl to be thus in league with pirates, " sighedMistress Dorothy, "but I confess to you, Jack dear, that it would grievemy heart to see this charming pirate wear a hempen halter. "

"My rival, is he? So I have found you out, " flared Jack, pretending vastindignation. "Nevertheless, I shall still be true to him. "

"And to me, I trust, " she fondly replied. "Oh, I feel so thankful thatfaithful Trimble Rogers is keeping tryst. He will hear the soldiersblundering about in time to make Captain Bonnet take heed and shoveoff. "

Jack walked home with her, very glad of the excuse, but with jealousyrankling in his bosom. It was not a lasting malady, however, and he hadforgotten it next morning when he went early to the tavern to look forTrimble Rogers. There he found the major of the detachment at breakfastwith an extraordinary story to tell. He had made a landing on Sullivan'sIsland after dark and deployed some of his men to patrol the beach thatfaced the ocean. The squad which remained with him had surprised a manlurking amongst the trees. Pursued and fired at, he had led them aninfernal chase until they burst out upon the open beach. There theyheard the sound of oars and voices in a boat which was making in for theshore. The hunted man raised his voice in one stentorian shout of:

"Pull out to sea, Cap'n Bonnet. And 'ware this coast. The soldiers areon my heels. Old Trimble Rogers sends a fare-ye-well. "

The boat was wrenched about in a trice and moved away from the island, soon disappearing in the direction of the bar. The major's men had shotat it but without effect. When they had rushed to capture the fugitivewho had shouted the warning, they found him prone upon the sand. Therewas not a scratch on him and yet he was quite dead. The prodigiousexertion had broken his heart, ventured the major, and it had ceased tobeat. His body would be prepared for Christian burial because of theesteem in which he was already held by many of the townspeople. 

To Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge it was sad news indeed buttender-hearted Bill Saxby mourned like one who had lost a parent. Heclosed the shop for a day and hung black ribbons on the knob. Theyagreed that the end had come for Trimble Rogers as he would have wishedit, giving his life in loyal service to a friend and master. And perhapsit was better thus than for the creeping disabilities of old age toovertake him. 

"He knew he was liable to pop off, " said Bill, "with the rheumatismgetting closer to his heart all the time. And he told me, did Trimble, that his share of the treasure was to go to the poor and needy of thetown. Orphans and such was Trimble's weakness. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE QUEST FOR PIRATES' GOLD

A SMALL sloop was making its leisurely way up the Carolina coast with acrew of a dozen men all told. The skipper was Captain Jonathan Wellsbywho was taking this holiday cruise before sailing for England to commanda fine new ship in the colonial trade. In the cabin were Jack Cockrelland Joe Hawkridge, Councilor Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, and that briskyoung linen draper William Saxby. In the forecastle were trusty seamenwho had sailed in the _Plymouth Adventure_. The sloop's destination wasCherokee Inlet and she was equipped with tackle and gear for a peculiarkind of fishing. 

For once they made a voyage without fear of pirates. Safely the slooppassed in by the outlying cay where the charred bones of Blackbeard'sbrig were washed by the surf. An anchorage was found in the bight wherethe _Revenge_ had tarried, close by the beach and the greensward of thepirates' old camp. After diligent preparation all hands manned a boatwhich pulled into the mouth of the sluggish creek. With axes to clearthe entanglements and men enough to shove over the muddy shoals theboat was slowly forced up-stream and then into the smaller creek at thefork of the waters. 

Uncle Peter Forbes was as gay as a truant schoolboy. This was the larkof a lifetime. The two lads, however, were uneasy and depressed. To themthis sombre region was haunted, if not by ghosts then by memories asunhappy. They would not have been surprised to see Blackbeard skulkingin the tall grass, his head bound in red calico, his pistols cocked toambush them. And, alas, old Trimble Rogers was not along to protect themwith his musket. He had lived and dreamed in expectation of this quest. 

"We'll find no treasure, nary a penny of it, " dolefully observed JoeHawkridge who had actually begun to shiver. 

"Of course we can find the sea-chest, you ninny, " scolded Jack. 

"Dead or alive, Cap'n Ed'ard Teach flew away with it afore now, " wasJoe's rejoinder. "He was a master one at black magic. "

"Don't chatter like an idiot, " spoke up Uncle Peter who was wildlybrushing the mosquitoes from a sun-blistered nose. "My faith, I cannotunderstand how you lads got out of this swamp alive. It breeds all theplagues of Egypt. "

They came to the tiny lagoon and rounded the bend beyond which thepirogue had capsized Blackbeard's cock-boat. There was nothing toindicate that any human being had visited this lonely spot since thatsensational encounter. No trees had been cut down to serve as purchasesfor lifting the sea-chest from its oozy hiding-place. It was agreed thatsome traces would have remained if Blackbeard had been at work herebefore his death. 

A camp was made upon the higher ground of the knoll and the party wentabout its task with skill and deliberation. Jointed sounding rods ofiron were screwed together and the exact position of the spot determinedfrom Jack Cockrell's chart and description. But neither he nor JoeHawkridge could be coaxed into lending more active assistance. They wereafraid of disturbing the bones of the drowned seaman who had fled fromBlackbeard's bloody dirk. Jack had seen him go down and it was not apleasant recollection. And so these two heroes who had faced so manyother perils without flinching were content to putter abouthalf-heartedly and let the others exert themselves. 

All one day they prodded and sounded but struck only sunken logs. Whatgave them more concern than this was the discovery that the slenderrods, sharpened to a point, could be driven through one yielding stratumafter another of muck and ooze. Through myriad years the decayingvegetable matter of this rank swamp had been accumulating in theselayers of muck. There was no telling how deep down the weight of thesea-chest might have caused it to settle. 

Mr. Peter Forbes began to lose his youthful optimism and took four mento go and dig in the knoll while the others continued to search for thechest. The wooden cross still stood above the grave of Jesse Strawn andthe long-leaf pines murmured his requiem. Having selected at random aplace where he thought treasure ought to be, the worthy Councilorwielded a shovel until he perspired rivers. 

"Confound it, Blackbeard must have left a scrap of paper somewhere togive us the proper instructions, " he complained. "'Tis the custom of allproper pirates. Look at the trouble he has put us to. "

"I helped search the cabin afore the brig was set afire, " replied one ofthe seamen, "and all the writin' we found was in the bit of a book withthe leaves tore out, same as Cap'n Wellsby made a fair copy of. "

"That explains it, " cried Uncle Peter. "I have no doubt the vileBlackbeard destroyed his private note of where he hid it, just to makethe matter more difficult for us honest men. "

This was plausible, but it failed to solve the riddle. A day or two ofimpatient digging and the portly Secretary of the Council was almostwrecked in mind and body, what with insects and heat, ague and fatigue. The ardor of his companions had likewise slackened. The boat's crewswore that the condemned sea-chest must have sunk all the way to China. Joe Hawkridge still argued that Blackbeard had whisked it away in acloud of smoke and brimstone. The unhappy Mr. Peter Forbes suggested:

"What say you, lads, to dropping down to the sloop for a respite fromthis accursed swamp? There we can take comfort and discuss what is to bedone next. "

Captain Jonathan Wellsby, who was a stubborn man, urged that they fishonce more for the sunken chest before taking a rest, and this was agreedto. The sounding rods were plied with vigor and, at length, one of themdrove against some solid object deep in the mud. It was more unyieldingthan a water-soaked log. The iron rod was lifted and rammed down with athud which was like metal striking against metal. The explorers forgotthe torments of the swamp. Uncle Peter Forbes was in no haste to fleethe mosquitoes and the fever. 

The sailors began to rig the spars and tackle as a derrick set up on thebank of the creek, with grapple hooks like huge tongs to swing out overthe water and grope in the muddy depths. Absorbed in this fascinatingtask, they were startled beyond measure to hear the _thump, thump_ ofthole-pins sounding from somewhere below them in the swamp. It was noIndian pirogue. Only a ship's boat heavily manned could make thatcadenced noise of oars. Bill Saxby bade the men be silent while he helda hand at his ear and harkened with taut attention. The mysterious boat, following the winding channel of the creek, was drawing nearer. Voicescould be heard, a rough command, a curse, a laugh. 

"No honest men, I warrant, " growled Captain Jonathan Wellsby, ready totake command by virtue of long habit. "Who else can they be but pirates, plague 'em. And they are betwixt us and the sea. All hands ashore andlook to your arms. Lively now. "

They were bewildered and taken all aback. In this holiday excursionafter Blackbeard's treasure the party had reckoned only with dead orphantom pirates. There was some confusion, while Bill Saxby bawled atthe seamen as addle-pated lubbers. Deserting their boat, they scrambledto cover in the tall grass while those busy with the derrick gear rushedto catch up muskets and powder-horns. 

The strange boat was steadily forging up-stream and presently it wasdisclosed to view no more than a cable-length away. It was a pinnacefilled with ruffianly fellows, more than a score of them. No merchantseamen these but brethren of the coast, freebooters who weregallows-ripe. Bill Saxby was quick to recognize two or three of them asold hands of Blackbeard's crew who must have deserted their leader intime to escape his fate. Presumably they had recruited others of theirown stamp to go adventuring in the Cherokee swamp. They could have onlyone purpose. The very sight of them was enough to explain it. They werein quest of treasure like bloodhounds trailing a scent. 

Against such a force as this, discretion was the better part of valor. Aferocious yell burst from the pinnace and a flight of musket ballswhistled over the heads of the fugitives who had so hastily abandonedtheir operations with the derrick and gear and the boat. Stout BillSaxby and his comrades, finding concealment in the swamp, primed theirmuskets and let fly a volley at the pinnace which was an easy target. Apirate standing in the stern-sheets clapped a hand to his thigh and satdown abruptly. Another one let go his oar to dangle a bloody hand. 

The pinnace drifted with the tide and stranded on a weedy shoal whilethe blue powder smoke hung over it like a fog. For the moment it was ademoralized crew of pirates, roaring all manner of threats but at a losshow to proceed. The other party took advantage of this delay to beat arapid retreat along the path which led to the knoll where the camp waspitched. Upon this higher ground they might hope to defend themselvesagainst a force which outnumbered them. They ran at top speed, bendinglow, hidden from observation, avoiding the pools and bogs. 

The pirates were diverted from their hostile intentions as soon as theycaught sight of the tall spars and tackle, and the boat with itssounding rods and other gear. With a great clamor they swarmed out ofthe pinnace and began to investigate. This gave the refugees on theknoll a little time to make their camp more compact, to wield theshovels furiously and throw up intrenchments, to cut down trees for abarricade, to fill the water kegs, to prepare to withstand an assault ora siege. 

The sun went down and the infatuated pirates were still exploring thecreek, convinced that they could straightway lay hold of the treasurethey had come to find. They kindled a fire on the bank and evidentlyintended to pass the night there. This mightily eased the minds of thetoilers upon the knoll. Their predicament was still awkward in theextreme but the fear of sudden death had been lifted. And it seemedpossible that these bothersome pirates might conclude to leave themalone. 

It went sorely against the grain, however, to be driven away from theprecious sea-chest when it was almost within their grasp, to have toscuttle from this crew of scurvy pirates. Jack Cockrell was for making asortie by night, gustily declaiming to his companions:

"The sentries will be drunk or drowsy. I know these swine. A well-timedrush and we can cut 'em down and pistol the rest. Didn't they open fireon us from the pinnace?"

"Aye, Jack, and we'll fight to save our skins, " said the cool-headedCaptain Wellsby, "but 'tis a desperate business to attack yoncut-throats, even by night, and there will be men of us hurt and killed. Blackbeard's gold is not worth it. "

"Right sensibly put, " declared Mr. Peter Forbes. "We had best spend thisnight in felling more trees and notching logs to pile them breast high. If these pirates find the sea-chest, they will leave us unmolested. Ifthey fail to find it, they may conclude that we have already discoveredthe treasure. In that event, they will storm the knoll and give us noquarter. "

"It would be rank folly to surrender, " said stout Bill Saxby. "There bemen in the pinnace who have no love for me nor for the two lads. 'Twas ashrewd suspicion of theirs that Blackbeard had played secret tricks inthis Cherokee swamp, what with his excursions in that little cock-boat. "

Keeping vigilant watch, they labored far into the night until the campon the knoll was a hard nut to crack, with its surrounding ditch andpalisade of logs behind which a man could lie and shoot. Now and then itmight have been noted that Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge conferredwith their heads together as though something private were in the wind. As soon as they were relieved from duty, some time before the dawn, theystole very softly away from the knoll and groped along the path whichled to the creek. Curiosity and the impetuous folly of youth impelledthem to reconnoitre the pirates' bivouac. 

"We may hear something worth listening to, " whispered Jack, "and perhapswe can crawl close and steal some of their arms. "

"None of that, " chided young Hawkridge. "I am a man of goodly station inCharles Town and I would go back with a whole hide. "

"You have grown too respectable, " grumbled Jack. "Here is the chance forone last fling----"

His words stuck in his throat. A gurgle of horrified amazement and hetumbled headlong into the grass with a bare, sinewy arm wrapped aroundhis neck. He fought to free himself but the breath was fairly choked outof him. Joe Hawkridge was desperately thrashing about in the swamp, gasping and snorting, his cries also smothered. In a twinkling they werecaptives, their arms tightly bound behind them, the stifling grip oftheir necks unrelaxed. Weakened almost to suffocation, the two ladscould make no lively resistance. Jack uttered one feeble shout for helpbut subsided when those strong fingers tightened the clutch on hiswindpipe. 

The assailants made no sound. Not a word was uttered. There were severalof them, for the helpless prisoners were picked up bodily and luggedalong by the head and the heels. They expected to be taken into thepirates' camp, believing they had been surprised and overpowered by anoutlying sentry post. It was an old game, reflected Joe Hawkridge, tohold them alive as hostages. But he was vastly puzzled when these silentkidnappers, deftly picking their way in the darkness, took a directionwhich led them away from the bank of the creek. They had forsaken thetrampled path and were proceeding through the trackless swamp whosepitfalls were avoided by a sort of sixth sense. 

A mile of this laborious, uncanny progress and the bearers dumped theirburdens and paused to rest. The two lads dizzily crawled to their feetand peered at the shadowy figures surrounding them. They heard aguttural exclamation and words exchanged in a strange, harsh tongue. 

"Indians, blow me!" hoarsely whispered Joe, his throat sore and swollen. 

"Comrade ahoy!" croaked Jack. "No pirates these, but Yemassees. Do theysave us for the torture?"

"God knows. 'Tis a sorry mischance as ever was. I'd sooner meet up withBlackbeard's ghost. Are ye badly hurt?"

"Like a man hanged by the neck, Joe, but no mortal wounds. Had we mindedUncle Peter we would be safe in the sloop by now. One more day ofhunting that filthy treasure undid us. "

The half dozen Yemassees squatted about them, talking in low tones, andoffered no further violence. Presumably they were waiting for daybreak, having conveyed their prisoners beyond all chance of rescue. The twolads shivered with fear and weariness. They were bruised and breathlessand the thongs which tightly bound their wrists made their arms acheintolerably. Bitter was the regret at invading this baleful Cherokeeswamp when they might have remained safe from all harm in pleasantCharles Town. 

Sadly they watched the eastern sky grow brighter while the gloom of thedesolate swamp turned wan and gray. The Indian captors became visible, brown, half-naked men wearing leggings and breech-clouts of tanneddeerskin. Two of them carried muskets. They were not made hideous bywar-paint, as Jack Cockrell was quick to note. He said to his companion:

"A hunting party, Joe. They were spying on our camp, like enough, orkeeping watch of the pirates. No doubt they wonder why white men come tofight one another in the swamp. "

"They will wish to find out from us, " was the hopeful reply. "They seema deal more curious than bloodthirsty. A stout heart, say I, and we mayweather it yet. "

Soon the lads were roughly prodded ahead and went stumbling andsplashing through the marshy verdure and slippery ooze until they cameto higher ground and easier walking. Upon this ridge they descried thecamp of the Yemassees--huts fashioned of poles and bark and boughs, afreshly killed deer hanging from a tree, smoke rising from beneath ahuge iron kettle, plump, naked children scampering in play with severalbarking dogs, the squaws shrilly scolding them. Several warriors lazilyemerged from the huts, yawning, brushing the long black hair from theireyes. 

They moved more actively at perceiving the procession which approachedfrom the swamp. Two or three ran back to the largest shelter andpresently a big-bodied, middle-aged man strode out, his mien stern anddignified, his rank denoted by the elaborate fringed tunic of buckskinand the head-dress of heron plumes. He shouted something in a sonorousvoice. The hunting party hastened forward, dragging the two English ladsby the elbows and flinging them down at the feet of the chief. He stoodwith arms folded across his chest, scowling, formidable. 

Then he spoke a few words of broken English, to the astonishment of thecaptives. He mentioned the names of settlements on the Cape Fear Riverwhere, it was inferred, he had been on friendly terms with thecolonists. His manner was not so much hostile as questioning. In CharlesTown both Joe and Jack had learned the common phrases of the Indiantongue such as were used among the merchants and traders. Pieced outwith signs and gestures, they were able to carry on a halting dialoguewith the chief of this small band. 

They were able to comprehend that he hated pirates above all other men. He recognized the name of Blackbeard and indicated his great joy thatthis eminent scoundrel had met his just deserts. Many times thefreebooters of the coast had hunted and slain the Indians for wantonsport. And perhaps the word had sped of that expedition of Captain StedeBonnet out of Charles Town when he had exterminated the Yemassees whohad set out to harry and burn the near-by plantations. The two uneasylads felt that they still stood in the shadow of death unless they couldpersuade the chief that they were not pirates, that they were in no wayto be confused with the crew of blackguards which had ascended the creekin the pinnace. 

The chief delayed his judgment. Two young men lifted the huge kettlefrom the fire. It was steaming with a savory smell of stewed meat. Thecaptives were invited to join the others in spearing bits of venisonwith sharpened sticks. Chewing lustily, with a noble appetite, JoeHawkridge confided:

"My spirits rise, Jack. An empty belly always did make a coward of me. How now, my lusty cockerel? Shall we flap our wings and crow?"

"Crow we must, or have our necks wrung as pirates, " said Jack, gnawing abone. "Which one of us shall make the first oration?"

"The nephew of the Councilor, of course, " cried Joe, "with his cargo ofGreek and Latin education. Make a power of noise, Jack. "

And now indeed did young Master Cockrell prove that all those drudginghours with snuffy Parson Throckmorton had not been wasted. Standing inan open space, clear of the crowd, he addressed the chief in loud andimpressive language. The gist of it was that he and his friends were thesworn foes of all pirates and especially anxious to rid the world ofsuch vermin as those that had come into the Cherokee swamp in the greatship's boat and were encamped on the bank of the creek. 

This other peaceful party entrenched on the knoll were honest, law-abiding men of Charles Town who would harm no one. They had come insearch of pirates' gold. If the chief of the Yemassees would join forceswith them and smoke the pipe of peace, they would drive those foulpirates out of the Cherokee swamp. And should the gold be found, itwould be fairly divided between the godly men of Charles Town and theirIndian allies. To bind this bargain Master Cockrell and Master Hawkridgewere ready to pledge their honor and their lives. 

It was a most eloquent effort delivered with much gesticulation. TheYemassee braves set in a circle and grunted approval. They liked thesound and fury of it. Jack hurled scraps of Homer and Virgil at themwhen at a loss for resounding periods. The chief nodded hisunderstanding of such words as _pirates_ and _gold_ and actually smiledwhen Jack's pantomime depicted the death of Blackbeard on the deck ofhis ship. _Gold_ was a magic word to these Indians. It would purchasemuskets and powder and ball, cloth and ironmongery and strong liquorsfrom the white men of the settlements. 

The chief discussed it with his followers. During the lull JoeHawkridge said, with a long sigh of relief:

"My scalp itches not so much, Jack. The notion of having it twisted offwith a dull blade vexed me. Ye did wondrous well. The mouth of SecretaryPeter Forbes would ha' gaped wide open. "

"Much sound and little sense, Joe, but methinks it hit the target. Itook care to sprinkle it with such words as yonder savage could biteon. "

"If we find no gold, the fat may be in the fire again, but it gives ustime to draw breath. "

They rubbed their chafed wrists and sat on the ground while the savagesheld a long pow-wow. The chief was explaining the purport of MasterCockrell's impressive declamation. There was no enmity in the glancesaimed at the English lads. It was more a matter of deliberation, ofpassing judgment on the truth or the falsity of the story. It was plainto read that the Yemassees desired to lay greedy hold of Blackbeard'sgold. They were like children listening to a fairy tale. The fat littlepapooses crawled timidly near to inspect the mysterious strangers andscrambled away squealing with delicious terror. 

The hours passed and the verdict was delayed. Two young braves stoleaway into the pine woodland on some errand, at the behest of the chief. It was after noon when they returned. With them came a dozen Yemasseewarriors from another hunting camp, strong, quick-footed men in lightmarching order who were armed with long bows and knives. The chief spokea few words and mustered his force. All told he had more than thirtypicked followers. The English lads were told to move with them. 

In single file the band flitted silently along the ridge and plungedinto the swamp. The prisoners were closely guarded. At the slightestsign of treachery the long knives would slither between their ribs. Thisthey well knew and their devout prayer was that their friends on theknoll might not commit some rash act of hostility and so ruin theenterprise. With heart-quaking trepidation they perceived at somedistance the rude barricade of logs and the yellow streaks of earthhastily thrown up. 

The cautious Yemassees concealed themselves as though the swamp hadswallowed them up. The chief made certain signs, and the lads understoodhis meaning. Jack Cockrell ripped a sleeve from his shirt and tied it toa stick as a flag of truce. Joe Hawkridge advanced with them, thestalwart chief between them, his empty hands extended in token of peace. The ambushed Yemassees, lying in the tall grass, were ready to let flywith musket balls and flights of arrows or to storm the knoll. 

A sailor on sentry duty gave the alarm and the lads saw a row of headsbob above the logs, and the gleam of weapons. Then Captain JonathanWellsby moved out into the open and was joined by Mr. Peter Forbes. They stood gazing at the singular spectacle, the bedraggled runaways whohad vanished without trace, the odd flag of truce, the brawny, dignifiedsavage making signs of friendship. The men in the stockade were orderedto lay down their arms. They came running out to cheer and wave theirhats. 

Mr. Peter Forbes was torn betwixt affection and the desire to scold hisflighty nephew. They met half-way down the slope and Jack hastened toexplain:

"Before you clap us in irons as deserters, Uncle Peter, grant a parley, if you please. Our lives hang by a hair. "

"God bless me, boy, we thought the pirates had slain you both, "spluttered Uncle Peter, a tear in his eye. "What means this tallsavage?"

"A noble chief of the Yemassees who used us with all courtesy, " saidJack. 

Captain Wellsby had drawn Joe Hawkridge aside and was swiftlyenlightened concerning the alliance with the Indians. Presently theywere holding a conference, all seated together in the shade of a tree. Atobacco pipe of clay, with a long reed for a stem, was lighted andpassed from hand to hand. The chief puffed solemnly with an occasionalnod and a grunt. It was agreed, with due ceremony, that the piratesshould be attacked in their camp and driven away. The Yemassee warriorswould make common cause with the Englishmen. As a reward, Blackbeard'streasure was to be fairly divided, half and half. 

The chief raised his voice in a long, deep shout of summons and his bandof fighting men emerged from their ambush in the swamp. There was noreason for delaying the movement against the pirates. The Yemassees wereeager for the fray. They were about to advance through the swamp, cunningly hidden, while the Englishmen followed at a slower pace tospread out on the flanks. Just then there was heard a sudden and riotouscommotion among the pirates at the creek. It was a mad, jubilant uproaras though some frenzy had seized them all. Bill Saxby leaned on hismusket and listened for a long moment. 

"The rogues have fished up the sea-chest, by the din they make, " saidhe. "We left that sounding rod a-stickin' in the mud. They save us thetrouble, eh, Captain Wellsby?"

The skipper laughed in his beard and floundered ahead like a bear. JackCockrell passed the word to the chief that the gold was awaiting them. Like shadows the Yemassees drew near the creek and then, full-lunged, terrific, their war-whoop echoed through the dismal Cherokee swamp. Nimble Jack Cockrell was not far behind them, his heart pumping asthough it would burst. 

He was in time to see four lusty pirates swaying at a rope which ledthrough the pulley-blocks of the spars that overhung the creek as atall derrick. They were hoisting away with all their might while thereslowly rose in air a mud-covered, befouled sea-chest all hung with weedsand slimy refuse. Two other pirates tailed on to a guy rope and theheavy chest swung toward the bank, suspended in air. 

At this moment the screeching chorus of the Indian war-whoop smote theiraffrighted ears, followed by the discharge of muskets. These startledpirates let go the tackle and the guy rope and, with one accord, leapedfor the pinnace which floated close to the bank. The weighty sea-chestswinging in air came down by the run as the ropes smoked through theblocks. It had been swayed in far enough so that it fell not in thewater but upon the edge of the shore between the derrick spars. Therusty hinges and straps were burst asunder as the treasure chest crashedupon a log and cracked open like an egg. 

Out spilled a stream of doubloons and pieces of eight, a cascade of goldand silver bars, of jewels flowing from the rotten bags which hadcontained them. In this extraordinary manner was the hoard of thedeparted Blackbeard brought to light. The unfortunate pirates who hadfound the spoils tarried not to gloat and rejoice. They appeared to haveurgent business elsewhere. In hot pursuit came the ravening Yemassees, yelling like fiends, assisted by the reinforcements of Captain JonathanWellsby. 

What saved the lives of these panic-smitten pirates was the dramaticexplosion of that great treasure chest when it fell and smashed upon thelog. Indians and Englishmen alike forgot their intent to shoot andslaughter. They rushed to surround the bewitching booty, to cut caperslike excited urchins. 

"Share and share, " roared Captain Wellsby, shoving them headlong. "Halfto the Yemassees and half to us. Our word is given. Stand back, yelunatics, while we do the thing with order and decency. "

Already the pinnace was filled with cursing pirates who saw that thegame was lost. Some of them had left their weapons in camp, others fireda few wild shots, but those who had any wit left were tugging at theoars to make for the open sea. 

"After 'em, " roared Bill Saxby. "Follow down the creek to make sure theydo not molest our sloop. "

A score of men, Indians included, jumped into the boat and pulled inchase, no longer on slaughter bent. The only thought in their heads wasto despatch the errand and return to squat around the treasure chest. Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge remained to help scoop up the coin andjewels and stow them in stout kegs and sacks. The stoical chief of theYemassees was grinning from ear to ear as he grunted:

"_Plenty gold. Good! Hurrah, boys!_"

Arm-in-arm Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge danced a sailor's hornpipeupon the splintered lid of Blackbeard's sea-chest while they sang withall their might:

 "For his work he's never loth, An' a-pleasurin' he'll go, Tho' certain sure to be popt off, _Yo, ho, with the rum below. _"

THE END

[Illustration]

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Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. 

Page 34, "Steve" changed to "Stede" (Stede Bonnet frowned)

Page 77, "than" changed to "them" (rally them for attack)

Page 85, "arsensal" changed to "arsenal" (arsenal of himself)

Page 306, "Yemasses" changed to "Yemassees" (The Yemassees were eager)