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By the same Author

DOWN THE BIG RIVER
LONGSHANKS

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2007 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/blackbuccaneerOOmead

© Harcoitrt, Brace and Company, Inc.

HE FELT HIMSELF THE LORD OF A
GREAT MARITIME PROVINCE

THE BLACK

UCCANEER

BY STEPHEN W. MEADER

ILLUSTRATED BY MEAD SCHAEFFER

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
NEW YORK

O

COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY
HARCOUKT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC

^ ^6*? 07

TILOeN FOUNDATIONS.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

BY QUINN & BODEN COMPANY, INC., RAHWAY, N. J.

TYPOGRAPHY BY ROBERT S. JOSEPHY

0

M

M

ILLUSTRATIONS

HE FELT HIMSELF THE LORD OF A GREAT MARI-
TIME PROVINCE Frontispiece

"we have beaten them," he cried 54

at a shack on a little cove he found several

fishermen 88

"l SHALL COUNT THREE, THEN FIRE" 112

THEY LET THEMSELVES QUIETLY DOWN I42

STEDE bonnet faced HIS LAST FIGHT 160

IT WAS GOOD TO HEAR THE CREAK OF TIMBERS I9O

"they started back toward THEIR SLOOP LEAD-
ING ME WITH them" 244

; :.:%*:^ ■•

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

o

CHAPTER I

N THE morning of the 15th of July, 1718, any
one who had been standing on the low rocks of
the Penobscot bay shore might have seen a
large, clumsy boat of hewn planking making its way
out against the tide that set strongly up into the river
mouth. She was loaded deep with a shifting, noisy
cargo that lifted white noses and huddled broad,
woolly backs — in fact, nothing less extraordinary than
fifteen fat Southdown sheep and a sober-faced collie-
dog. The crew of this remarkable craft consisted of a
sinewy, bearded man of forty-five who minded sheet
and tiller in the stern, and a boy of fourteen, tall and
broad for his age, who was constantly employed in
soothing and restraining the bleating flock.

No one was present to witness the spectacle because,
In those remote days, there were scarcely a thousand
white men on the whole coast of Maine from Kittery
to Louisberg, while at this season of the year the
Indians were following the migrating game along the
northern rivers. The nearest settlement was a tiny log
hamlet, ten miles up the bay, which the two voyagers
had left that morning.

The boy's keen face, under its shock of sandy hair,

3

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

was turned toward the sea and the dim outline of land
that smudged the southern horizon.

"Father," he suddenly asked, "how big is the
Island?"

"You'll see soon enough, Jeremy. Stop your ques-
tioning," answered the man. "We'll be there before
night and I'll leave you with the sheep. You'll be lone-
some, too, if I mistake not."

"Huh I" snorted Jeremy to himself.

Indeed it was not very likely that this lad, raised on
the wildest of frontiers, would mind the prospect of a
night alone on an island ten miles out at sea. He had
seen Indian raids before he was old enough to know
what frightened him; had tried his best with his fists
to save his mother in the Amesbury massacre, six years
before; and in a little settlement on the Saco River,
when he was twelve, he had done a man's work at the
blockhouse loophole, loading nearly as fast and firing
as true as any woodsman in the company. Danger and
strife had given the lad an alert self-confidence far
beyond his years.

Amos Swan, his father, was one of those iron spirits
that fought out the struggle with the New England
wilderness in the early days. He had followed the ad-
vancing line of colonization into the Northeast, hewing
his way with the other pioneers. What he sought was a
place to raise sheep. Instead of increasing, however, his

4

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

flock had dwindled — wolves here — lynxes there — dogs
in the larger settlements. After the last onslaught he
had determined to move with his possessions and his
two boys — Tom, nineteen years old, and the smaller
Jeremy — to an island too remote for the attacks of any
wild animal.

So he had set out in a canoe, chosen his place of habi-
tation and built a temporary shelter on it for family
and flock, while at home the boys, with the help of a
few settlers, had laid the keel and fashioned the hull
of a rude but seaworthy boat, such as the coast fisher-
men used.

Preparations had been completed the evening be-
fore, and now, while Tom cared for half the flock on
the mainland, the father and younger son were con-
voying the first load to their new home.

In the day when these events took place, the hun-
dreds of rocky bits of land that line the Maine coast
stood out against the gray sea as bleak and desolate
as at the world's beginning. Some were merely huge
up-ended rocks that rose sheer out of the Atlantic a
hundred feet high, and on whose tops the sea-birds
nested by the million. The larger ones, however, had,
through countless ages, accumulated a layer of earth
that covered their gaunt sides except where an occa-
sional naked rib of gray granite was thrust out. Sparse
grass struggled with the junipers for a foothold along

5

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the slopes, and low black firs, whose seed had been
wind-blown or bird-carried from the mainland, climbed
the rugged crest of each island. Few men visited them,
and almost none inhabited them. Since the first long
Norse galley swung by to the tune of the singing row-
ers, the number of passing ships had increased and their
character had changed, but the isles were rarely vis-
ited except by mishap — a shipwreck — or a crew in need
of water. The Indians, too, left the outer ones alone,
for there was no game to be killed there and the fishing
was no better than in the sheltered inlets.

It was to one of the larger of these islands, twenty
miles south of the Penobscot Settlement and a little
to the southwest of Mount Desert, that a still-favoring
wind brought the cumbersome craft near mid-afternoon.
In a long bay that cut deep into the landward shore
Amos Swan had found a pebbly beach a score of yards
in length, where a boat could be run in at any tide. As
it was just past the flood, the man and boy had little
difficulty in beaching their vessel far up toward high
water-mark. Next, one by one, the frightened sheep
were hoisted over the gunwale into the shallow water.
The old ram, chosen for the first to disembark, quickly
waded out upon dry land, and the others followed as
fast as they were freed, while the collie barked at their
heels. The lightened boat was run higher up the beach,
and the man and boy carried load after load of tools,

6

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

equipment and provisions up the slope to the small log
shack, some two hundred yards away.

Jeremy's father helped him drive the sheep into a
rude fenced pen beside the hut, then hurried back to
launch his boat and make the return trip. As he started
to climb in, he patted the boy's shoulder. *'Good-by,
lad," said he gently. "Take care of the sheep. Eat your
supper and go to bed. Til be back before this time to-
morrow."

"Ay, Father," answered Jeremy. He tried to look
cheerful and unconcerned, but as the sail filled and the
boat drew out of the cove he felt homesick. Only old
Jock, the collie, who shouldered up to him and gave his
hand a companionable lick, kept the boy from shed-
ding a few unmanly tears.

T

CHAPTER II

j/" W'^HE shelter that Amos Swan had built stood on a
small bare knoll, at an elevation of fifty or
sixty feet above the sea. Behind it and shelter-
ing it from easterly and southerly winds rose the island
in sharp and rugged ridges to a high hilltop perhaps a
mile away. Between lay ascending stretches of dark fir
woods, rough outcroppings of stone and patches of
hardy grass and bushes. The crown of the hill was a
bare granite ledge, as round and nearly as smooth as
an inverted bowl.

Jeremy, scrambling through the last bit of clinging
undergrowth in the late afternoon, came up against
the steep side of this rocky summit and paused for
breath. He had left Jock with the sheep, which com-
fortably chewed the cud in their pen, and, slipping a
short pistol, heavy and brass-mounted, into his belt,
had started to explore a bit.

He must have worked halfway round the granite
hillock before he found a place that offered foothold
for a climb. A crevice in the side of the rock in which
small stones had become wedged gave him the chance
he wanted, and it took him only a minute to reach the

8

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

rounded surface near the top. The ledge on which he
found himself was reasonably flat, nearly circular, and
perhaps twenty yards across.

Its height above the sea must have been several hun-
dred feet, for in the clear light Jeremy could see not
only the whole outline of the island but most of the
bay as well, and far to the west the blue masses of the
Camden Mountains. He was surprised at the size of
the new domain spread out at his feet. The island
seemed to be about seven miles in length by five at its
widest part. Two deep bays cut into its otherwise
rounded outline. It was near the shore of the northern
one that the hut and sheep-pen were built. Southwest-
erly from the hill and farther away, Jeremy could see
the head of the second and larger inlet. Between the
bays the distance could hardly have been more than
two miles, but a high ridge, the backbone of the island,
which ran westward from the hill top, divided them by
its rugged barrier.

Jeremy looked away up the bay where he could still
see the speck of white sail that showed his father hur-
rying landward on a long tack with the west wind
abeam. The boy's loneliness was gone. He felt himself
the lord of a great maritime province, which, from his
high watchtower, he seemed to hold in undisputed sov-
ereignty.

9

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Beneath him and off to the southward lay a little
island or two, and then the cold blue of the Atlantic
stretching away and away to the world's rim.

Even as he glowed with this feeling of dominion, he
suddenly became aware of a gray spot to the southwest,
a tiny spot that nevertheless interrupted his musing.
It was a ship, apparently of good size, bound up the
coast, and bowling smartly nearer before the breeze.
The boy's dream of empire was shattered. He was no
longer alone in his universe.

The sun was setting, and he turned with a yawn to
descend. Ships were interesting, but just now he was
hungry. At the edge of the crevice he looked back once
more, and was surprised to see a second sail behind the
first — a smaller vessel, it seemed, but shortening the
distance between them rapidly. He was surprised and
somewhat disgusted that so much traffic should pass
the doors of this kingdom which he had thought to be
at the world's end. So he clambered down the cliff and
made his way homeward, this time following the sum-
mit of the ridge till he came opposite the northern inlet.

10

CHAPTER III

IT WAS growing dark already in the dense fir growth
that covered the hillside, and when Jeremy sud-
denly stepped upon the moss at the brink of a deep
spring, he had to catch a branch to keep from falling
in. There was an opening in the trees above and enough
light came through for him to see the white sand bub-
bling at the bottom.

At one edge the water lapped softly over the moss
and trickled down the northern slope of the hill in a
little rivulet, which had in the course of time shaped
itself a deep, well-defined bed a yard or two across.
Following this, the boy soon came out upon the grassy
slope beside the sheep-pen. He looked in at the placid
flock, brought a bucket of water from the little stream,
and, not caring to light a lantern, ate his supper of
bread and cheese outside the hut on the slope facing
the bay. The night settled chill but without fog. The
boy wrapped his heavy homespun cloak round him,
snuggled close to Jock's hairy side, and in his lone-
someness fell back on counting the stars as they came
out. First the great yellow planet in the west, then,
high overhead, the sparkling white of what, had he
known it, was Vega; and in a moment a dozen others

12

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

were in view before he could number them — Regulus,
Altair, Spica, and, low in the south, the angry fire of
Antares.

For him they were unnamed, save for the peculiari-
ties he discovered in each. In common with most boys
he could trace the dipper and find the North Star, but
he regrouped most of the constellations to suit himself,
and was able to see the outline of a wolf or the head
of an Indian that covered half the sky whenever he
chose. He wondered what had become of Orion, whose
brilliant galaxy of stars appeals to every boy's fancy.
It had vanished since the spring. In it he had always
recognized the form of a brig he had seen hove-to in
Portsmouth Harbor — high poop, skyward-sticking
bow-sprit and ominous, even row of gun-ports where
she carried her carronades — three on a side. How those
black cannon-mouths had gaped at the small boy on
the dock! He wondered —

"Boom ... I" came a hollow sound that seemed
to hang like mist in a long echo over the island. Before
Jeremy could jump to his feet he heard the rumbling
report a second time. He was all alert now, and thought
rapidly. Those sounds — there came another even as he
stood there — must be cannon-shots — nothing less. The
ships he had seen from the hilltop were men-of-war,
then. Could the French have sent a fleet? He did not
know of any recent fighting. What could it mean?

13

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Deep night had settled over the island, and the fir-
woods looked very black and uninviting to Jeremy
when he started up the hill once more.

As their shadow engulfed him, he was tempted to
turn back — how he was to wish he had done so in the
days that followed — but the hardy strain of adventure
in his spirit kept his jaw set and his legs working stead-
ily forward into the pitch-black undergrowth. Once or
twice he stumbled over fallen logs or tripped in the
rocks, but he held on upward till the trees thinned and
he felt that the looming shape of the ledge was just in
front. His heart seemed to beat almost as loudly as the
cannonade while he felt his way up the broken stones.

Panting with excitement, he struggled to the top
and threw himself forward to the southern edge.

A dull-gray, quiet sea met the dim line of the sky
in the south. Halfway between land and horizon, per-
haps a league distant, Jeremy saw two vague splotches
of darkness. Then a sudden flame shot out from the
smaller one, on the right. Seconds elapsed before his
waiting ear heard the booming roar of the report. He
looked for the bigger ship to answer in kind, but the
next flash came from the right as before. This time he
saw a bright sheet of fire go up from the vessel on the
left, illuminating her spars and topsails. The sound of
the cannon was drowned in an instant by a terrific ex-
plosion. Jeremy trembled on his rock. The ships were in

14

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

darkness for a moment after that first great flare, and
then, before another shot could be fired, little tongues
of flame began to spread along the hull and rigging
of the larger craft. Little by little the fire gained head-
way till the whole upper works were a single great
torch. By its light the victorious vessel was plainly vis-
ible. She was a schooner-rigged sloop-of-war, of eighty
or ninety tons' burden, tall-masted and with a great
sweep of mainsail. Below her deck the muzzles of brass
guns gleamed in the black ports. As the blazing ship
drifted helplessly off to the east, the sloop came about,
and, to Jeremy's amazement, made straight for the
southern bay of the island. He lay as if glued to his
rock, watching the stranger hold her course up the inlet
and come head to wind within a dozen boat-lengths of
the shore.

15

o

CHAPTER IV

NE of the first things a backwoods boy learns is
that it pays to mind your own business, after
you know what the other fellow is going to do.
Jeremy had been threshing his brain for a solution to
the scene he had just witnessed. Whether the crew of
the strange sloop, just then effecting a landing in small
boats, were friends or enemies it was impossible to
guess. Jeremy feared for the sheep. Fresh meat would
be welcome to any average ship's crew, and the lad
had no doubt that they would use no scruple in dealing
with a youngster of his age. He must know who they
were and whether they intended crossing the island.
There was no feeling of mere adventure in his heart
now. It was purely sense of duty that drove his trem-
bling legs down the hillside. He shivered miserably in
the night air and felt for his pistol-butt, which gave
him scant comfort.

The ridge, which has already been described, bore in
a southerly direction from the base of the ledge, and
sloped steeply to the head of the southern inlet. High
above the arm of the bay, where the sloop was now
moored, and scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore,
the ridge projected in a rough granite crag like a bent

17

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

knee. Jeremy had a very fair plan of all this in his
mind, for his trained woodsman's eye had that after-
noon noted every landmark and photographed it. He
followed this mental map as he stumbled through the
trees. It seemed a long time, perhaps twenty or thirty
minutes, before he came out, stifling the sound of his
gasping breath, and crouched for a minute on the bare
stone to get his wind. Then he crawled forward along
the rough cliff top, feeling his way with his hands. Soon
he heard a distant shout. A faint glow of light shone
over the edge of the crag. As he drew near, he saw, on
the beach below, a great fire of driftwood and some
score or more of men gathered in the circle of light. The
distance was too great for him to tell much about their
faces, but Jeremy was sure that no English or Colonial
sloop-of-war would be manned by such a motley com-
pany. Their clothes varied from the seaboots and sail-
or's jerkin of the average mariner to slashed leather
breeches of antique cut and red cloth skirts reaching
from the girdle to the knees. Some of the group wore
three-cornered hats, others seamen's caps of rough wool,
and here and there a face grimaced from beneath a
twisted rag rakishly askew. Everywhere about them the
fire gleamed on small-arms of one kind or another.
Nearly every man carried a wicked-looking hanger at
his side and most had one or two pistols tucked into
waistband or holster.

This desperate gang was in a constant commotion.

18

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Even as Jeremy watched, a half dozen men were roll-
ing a barrel up the beach. Wild howls greeted its ap-
pearance and as it was hustled into the circle of bright
light, those who had been dancing, quarreling and
throwing dice on the other side of the fire fell over each
other to join the mob that surrounded it. The leaping
flames threw a weird, uncertain brilliance upon the
scene that made Jeremy blink his eyes to be sure that
it was real. With every moment he had become more
certain what manner of men these were.

His lips moved to shape a single terrible word —
"Pirates I"

The buccaneers were much talked of in those days,
and though the New England ports were less troubled,
because better guarded, than those farther south, there
had been many sea-rovers hanged in Boston within
Jeremy's memory.

As if to clinch the argument a dozen of the ruffians
swung their cannikins of rum in the air and began to
shout a song at the top of their lungs. All the words
that reached Jeremy were oaths except one phrase at
the end of the refrain, repeated so often that he began
to make out the sense of it. "Walk the bloody beggars
all below!" it seemed to be — or "overboard" — he could
not tell which. Either seemed bad enough to the boy
just then and he turned to crawl homeward, with a
sick feeling at the pit of his stomach.

His way led straight back across the ridge to the

19

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

spring and thence down to the shelter on the north
shore. He made the best speed he was able through the
woods until he reached the height of land near the
middle of the island. He had crashed along caring only
to reach the sheep-pen and home, but as he stood for
a moment to get his breath and his bearings, the west-
erly breeze brought him a sound of voices on the ridge
close by. He prayed fervently that the wind which had
warned him had served also to carry away the sound
of his progress. Cowering against a tree, he stood per-
fectly still while the voices — there seemed to be two —
came nearer and nearer. One was a very deep, rough
bass that laughed hoarsely between speeches. The
other voice was of a totally different sort, with a cool,
even tone, and a rather precise way of clipping the
words.

"See here, David," Jeremy understood the latter to
say, ''it's for you to remember those bearings, not me.
You're the sailor here. Give them again now I"

"Huh I" grunted Big Voice, "two hunder' an' ten
north to a sharp rock; three-score an' five northeast by
east to an oak tree in a gully; two an' thirty north to
a fir tree blazed on the south ; five north a-d there you
are I" He ended in a chuckle as if pleased by the ac-
curacy of his figures.

20

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

"Ay, well enough," the other responded, "but it
must be wrong, for here's the blazed tree and no spring
by it."

Close below, Jeremy saw their lantern flash and a
moment later the two men were in full view striding
among the trees. As he had almost expected from their
voices, one was a tremendous, bearded fellow in sea-
boots and jerkin and with a villainous turban over one
eye, while his companion was a lean, smooth-shaven
man, dressed in a fine buff coat, well-fitting breeches
and hose, and shoes with gleaming buckles.

They must have passed within ten feet of the terri-
fied Jeremy while the tossing lantern, swung from the
hairy fist of the man called David, shone all too dis-
tinctly upon the boy's huddled shape. When they were
gone by he allowed himself a sigh of relief, and shifted
his weight from one foot to the other. A twig broke
loudly and both men stopped and listened. " 'Twas
nought I" growled David. The other man paid no at-
tention to him other than to say, "Hold you the lan-
tern here!" and advanced straight toward Jeremy's
tree. The boy froze against it, immovable, but it was
of no avail.

"Aha," said the lean man, quietly, and gripped the
lad's arm with his hand. As he dragged him into the
light, his companion came up, staring with astonish-

21

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

ment. A moment he was speechless, then began ripping
out oath after oath under his breath. "How," he asked
at length, "did the blarsted whelp come here'?" The
smaller man, who had been looking keenly into
Jeremy's face, suddenly addressed him: "Here you,
speak up! Do you live here*?" he cried.

"Ay," said the boy, beginning to get a grip on his
thoughts.

"How long has there been a settlement here? There
was none last Autumn," continued the well-dressed
man. Jeremy had recovered his wits and reasoned
quickly. He had little chance of escape for the present,
while he must at all costs keep the sheep safe. So he
lied manfully, praying the while to be forgiven.

" 'Tis a new colony," he mumbled, "a great new
colony from Boston town. There be three ships of forty
guns each in the north harbor, and they be watching
for pirates in these parts," he finished.

"Boy I" growled the bearded man, seizing Jeremy's
wrist and twisting it horribly. "Boy I Are you telling
the truth?" With face white and set and knees trem-
bling from the pain, the lad nodded and kept his voice
steady as he groaned an "Ay I"

The two men looked at each other, scowling. The
giant broke silence. "We'd best haul out now, Cap'n,"
he said.

"And so I believe," the other replied. "But the water-

22

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

casks are empty. Here I" as he turned to Jeremy, "show
us the spring." It was not far away and the boy found
it without trouble.

"Now, Dave Herriot," said the Captain, "stay you
here with the light, that we may return hither the eas-
ier. Boy, come with me. Make no fuss, either, or 'twill
be the worse for you." And so saying he walked quickly
back toward the southern shore, holding the stumbling
Jeremy's wrist in a grip of iron.

Crashing down the hill through the brush, the lad
had scant time or will for observing things about him,
but as they crossed a gully he saw, or fancied he saw,
on the knee-shaped crag above, the slouched figure of
a buccaneer silhouetted against the sky. It was not the
bearded giant called Herriot, but another, Jeremy was
sure. He had no time for conjectures, for they plunged
into the thicket and birch limbs whipped him across the
face.

23

r

CHAPTER V

j/ WN^HE events of that night made a terribly clear
impression on the mind of the young New Eng-
lander. Years afterward he would wake with a
shiver, imagining that the relentless hand of the pirate
captain was again dragging him toward an unknown
fate. It must have been the darkness and the sudden
unexpectedness of it all that frightened him, for as
soon as they came down the rocks into the flaring fire-
light he was able to control himself once more. The
wild carouse was still in progress among the crew.
Fierce faces, with unkempt beards and cruel lips, leered
redly from above hairy, naked chests. Eyes, lit from
within by liquor and from without by the dancing
flames, gleamed below black brows. Many of the men
wore earrings and metal bands about the knots of their
pig-tails, while silver pistol-butts flashed everywhere.

As the Captain strode into the center of this group,
the swinging chorus fell away to a single drunken voice
which kept on uncertainly from behind the rum-barrel.

"Silence I" said the Captain sharply. The voice dwin-
dled and ceased. All was quiet about the fire. "Men,"
went on Jeremy's captor, "clear heads, all, for this is
no time for drinking. We have found this boy upon

24

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the hill, who tells of a fleet of armed ships not above a
league from here. We must set sail within an hour and
be out of reach before dawn. Every man now take a
water-keg and follow me. You, Job Rowland, keep
the boy and the watch here on the beach."

Fresh commotion broke out as he finished. "Ay, ay.
Captain Bonnet I" came in a broken chorus, as the crew,
partially sobered by the words, hurried to the long-
boat, where a line of small kegs lay in the sand. A mo-
ment later they were gone, plowing up the hillside.
Jeremy stood where he had been left. A tall, slack-
jointed pirate in the most picturesque attire strolled
over to the boy's side and looked him up and down
with a roguish grin. Under his cloak Jeremy had on
fringed leather breeches and tunic such as most of the
northern colonists wore. The pirate, seeing the rough
moccasins and deerskin trousers, burst into a roar. "Ho,
ho, young woodcock, and how do ye like the company
of Major Stede Bonnet's rovers'?"

The lad said nothing, shut his jaw hard and looked
the big buccaneer squarely in the face. There was no
fear in his expression. The man nodded and chuckled
approvingly. "That's pluck, boy, that's pluck," said he.
"We'll clip the young cock's shank-feathers, and maybe
make a pirate of him yet." He stooped over to feel the
buckskin fringe on Jeremy's leg. The boy's hand went
into his shirt like a flash. He had pulled out the pistol

25

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

and cocked it, when he felt both legs snatched from
under him.

His head hit the ground hard and he lay dazed for
a second or two. When he regained his senses, Job
Howland stood astride of him coolly tucking the pistol
into his own waist-band. "Ay," said Job, "ye'U be a
fine buccaneer, only ye should have struck with the
butt. I heard the click." The pirate seemed to hold no
grudge for what had occurred and sat down beside
Jeremy in a friendly fashion.

"Free tradin' ain't what it was," he confided. "When
Billy Kidd cleared for the southern seas twenty years
agone, they say he had papers from the king himself,
and no man-of-war dared come anigh him." He swore
gently and reminiscently as he went on to detail the
recent severities of the Massachusetts government and
the insecurity of buccaneers about the Virginia capes.
"They do say, tho', as Cap'n Edward Teach, that they
call Blackbeard, is plumb thick with all the magistrates
and planters in Carolina, an' sails the seas as safe as if
he had a fleet of twenty ships," said Job. "We sailed
along with him for a spell last year, but him an' the
old man couldn't make shift to agree. Ye see this Black-
beard is so used to havin' his own way he wanted to
run Stede Bonnet, too. That made Stede boilin', but
we was undermanned just then and had to bide our
time to cut loose.

26

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

"Cap'n Bonnet, ye see, is short on seamanship but
long in his sword arm. Don't ye never anger him. He's
terrible to watch when he's raised. Dave Herriot sails
the ship mostly, but when we sight a big merchantman
with maybe a long nine or two aboard, then's when
Stede Bonnet comes on deck. That Frenchman we sunk
tonight, blast her bloody spars" — here the lank pirate
interrupted himself to curse his luck, and continued —
''probably loaded with sugar and Jamaica rum from
Martinique and headed up for the French provinces.
Well, we'll never know — that's sure I" He paused, bit
off the end of a rope of black tobacco and meditatively
surveyed the boy. 'I'm from New England myself,"
said he after a time. "Sailed honest out of Providence
Port when I was a bit bigger nor you. Then when I was
growed and an able seaman on a Virginia bark in the
African trade, along comes Cap'n Ben Hornygold, the
great rover of those days and picks us up. Twelve of
the likeliest he takes on his ship, the rest he maroons
somewhere south of the Cubas, and sends our bark into
Charles Town under a prize crew. So I took to bucca-
neering, and I must own Fve always found it a fine
occupation — not to say that it's made me rich — maybe
it might if Fd kept all my sharin's."

This life-history, delivered almost in one breath, had
caused Howland an immense amount of trouble with
his quid of tobacco, which nearly choked him as he fin-

27

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

ished. Except for the sound of his vast expectorations,
the pair on the beach were quiet for what seemed to
Jeremy a long while. Then on the rocks above was
heard the clatter of shoes and the bumping of kegs.
Job rose, grasping the hand of his charge, and they
went to meet the returning sailors.

To the young woodsman, utterly unused to the ways
of the sea, the next half-hour was a bewildering melee
of hurrying, sweating toil, with low-spoken orders and
half-caught oaths and the glimmer of a dying fire over
all the scene. He was rowed to the sloop with the first
boatload and there Job Rowland set him to work pass-
ing water-kegs into the hold. He had had no rest in
over twenty hours and his whole body ached as the last
barrel bumped through the hatch. All the crew were
aboard and a knot of swaying bodies turned the wind-
lass to the rhythm of a muttered chanty. The chain
creaked and rattled over the bits till the dripping
anchor came out of water and was swung inboard. The
mainsail and foresail went up with a bang, as a dozen
stalwart pirates manned the halyards.

Dave Herriot stood at the helm, abaft the cabin
companion, and his bull voice roared the orders as he
swung her head over and the breeze steadied in the
tall sails.

"Look alive there, mates!" he bellowed. "Stand by
now to set the main jib I" Like most of the pirate sloops-

28

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

of-war, Stede Bonnet's Revenge was schooner-rigged.
She carried fore and main top-sails of the old, square
style, and her long main boom and immense spread of
jib gave her a tremendous sail area for her tonnage.
The breeze had held steadily since sundown and was,
if anything, rising a little. Short seas slapped and gur-
gled at the forefoot with a pleasant sound. Jeremy, des-
perately tired, had dropped by the mast, scarcely caring
what happened to him. The sloop slid out past the dark
headlands, and heeled to leeward with a satisfied grunt
of her cordage that came gently to the boy's ears. His
head sank to the deck and he slept dreamlessly.

29

CHAPTER VI

ROUGH hand shook him awake. He was lying
in a dingy bunk somewhere in the gloom of
the cramped forecastle. "Come, young 'un,"
growled a voice, strange to Jeremy, "you've slept the
clock around I Cap'n wants you aft."

The lad ached in all his bones as he rolled over to-
ward the light. As he came to a sitting position on the
edge of the bunk, he gave a start, for the face scowling
down at him looked utterly fiendish to his sleepy eyes.
Its ugliness fairly shocked him awake. The man had a
grim, bristly jaw and a twisted mouth. His eyes were
small and cruel, so light in color that they looked un-
speakably cold. The vivid gray line of a sword-cut ran
from his left eyebrow to his right cheek, and his nose
was crushed inward where the scar crossed its bridge,
giving him more the look of an animal than of a man.
A greasy red cloth bound his head and produced a final
touch of barbarity. To the half-dazed Jeremy there
seemed something strangely familiar about his pose,
but as he still stared he was jerked to his feet by the
collar. "Don't stand there, you lubber!" shouted the
man with the broken nose. "Get aft, an' lively!" A
hard shove sent the boy spinning to the foot of the

30

The black buccaneer

ladder. He climbed dizzily and stumbled on deck,
looking about him, uncertain where to go. It must have
been past noon, for the sun was on the starboard bow.

The Revenge was close-hauled and running south-
west on a fresh west wind. Dave Herriot leaned against
the weather rail, a short clay pipe in one fist and his
bushy brown beard in the other. At the wheel was a
swarthy man with earrings, who looked like a Portu-
guese or a Spaniard. Glancing over his shoulder, Jer-
emy saw most of the crew lolled about forward of the
fo'c's'le hatch. Herriot looked up and called him
gruffly but not unkindly, the boy thought. He ad-
vanced close to the sailing-master, staggering a little
on the uneven footing.

"Now look sharp, lad," said the pirate in a stern
voice, "and mind what I tell 'ee. There's nought to
fear aboard this sloop for them as does what they're
told. We run square an' fair, an' while Major Stede
Bonnet and David Herriot gives the orders, no man'U
harm ye. Buf — and a hard look came into the tanned
face — "if there's any runnin' for shore 'twixt now and
come time to set ye there, or if ever ye takes it in yer
head to disobey orders, we'll keel-haul ye straight and
think no more about it. You're big and strong, an' may
make a foremast hand. For the first on it, until ye get
your sea legs, ye can be a sort o' cabin boy. Cap'n wants
ye below now. Quick I"

31

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Jeremy scrambled down the companionway indi-
cated by a gesture of Herriot's pipe. There was a door
on each side and one at the end of the small passage.
He advanced and knocked at this last one, and was
told, in the Captain's clear voice, to open.

Major Bonnet sat at a good mahogany table in the
middle of the cabin. Behind him were a bunk, two
chairs and a rack of small arms, containing half a dozen
guns, four brace of pistols, and several swords. He had
been reading a book, evidently one of the score or more
which stood in a case on the right. Jeremy gasped, for
he had never seen so many books in all his life. As the
Captain looked up, a stern frown came over his face,
never a particularly merry one. The boy, ignorant as he
was of pirates, could not help feeling that this man's
quietly gentle appearance fitted but ill with the blood-
thirsty reputation he bore. His clothes were of good
quality and cut, his grayish hair neatly tied behind with
a black bow and worn unpowdered. His clean-shaven
face was long and austere — like a Boston preacher's,
thought Jeremy — and although the forehead above the
intelligent eyes was high and broad, there was a strange
lack of humor in its vertical wrinkles.

"Well, my lad," said the cool voice at last, "you're
aboard the Revenge and a long way from your settle-
ment, so you might as well make the best of it. How
long you stay aboard depends on your behavior. We

32

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

might put into the Chesapeake, and if there are no cut-
ters about, I'd consider setting you ashore. But if you
like the sea and take to it, there's room for a hand in
the fo'c's'le. Then again, if you try any tricks, you'll
leave us — feet first, over the rail." He leaned forward
and hissed slightly as he pronounced the last words.
Something in the eyes under his knotted gray brows
struck deeper terror into the boy's heart than either
Herriot's threat or the cruel face of the man with the
broken nose. For that instant Bonnet seemed deadly as
a snake.

Jeremy was much relieved when he was bidden to
go. The sailing-master stood by the companionway as
he ascended. "You'll bunk for'ard," he remarked
curtly. "Go up with the crew now." The boy slipped
into the crowd that lay around the windlass as unob-
trusively as he could. A thick-set, bearded man with a
great hairy chest, bare to the yellow sash at his waist,
was speaking. "Ay," he said, "a hundred Indians was
dead in the town before ever we landed. They didn't
know where to run except into the huts, an' those our
round-shot plowed through like so much grass — which
was what they was, mostly. Then old Johnny Buck
piped the longboat overside and on shore we went,
firin' all the time. Cap'n Vane himself, with a dirk in
his teeth and sword an' pistol out, goes swearin' up the
roadway an' we behind him, our feet stickin' in blood.

33

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

A few come out shootin' their little arrers at us, but we
herded 'em an' drove 'em, yellin' all the time. At close
quarters their knives was no match for cutlasses. So we
went slashin' through the town, burnin' 'em out an'
stickin' 'em when they ran. Our sword arms was red to
shoulder that day, but we was like men far gone in rum
an' never stayed while an Indian held up head. Then
we dropped and slept where we fell, across a corp', like
as not, clean tuckered, every man of us. Come mornin',
the sight and smell of the place made us sober enough
and not a man in the crew wanted to go further into
the island. There was no gold in the town, neither. All
we got was a few hogs and sheep. We left the same day,
for it come on hot an' we had no way to clean up the
mess. That island must ha' been a nuisance to the whole
Caribbean for weeks."

Job Howland nodded and spat as the story ended.
*'Ye're right, George Dunkin," he said. ''That was a
day's work. Vane's a hard man, I'm told, an' that crew
in the Chance was one of his worst." He was inter-
rupted by a villainous old sea-dog with a sparse fringe
of white beard, who sprawled by the hatchway. He
cleared his throat hoarsely and spoke with a deep
wheeze between sentences.

"All that was nowt to our fight off Panama in the
spring of 'eighty," he growled. "We weren't slaugh-
terin' Indians, but Spaniards that could fight, an' did.

34

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

What's more, they were three good barks and nigh
three hundred men to our sixty-eight men paddlin' in
canoes. Ah, that was a day's work, if you will I I saw
Peter Harris, as brave a commander as ever flew the
black whiff, shot through both legs, but he was a-
swingin' his cutlass and tryin' to climb the Spaniard's
side with the rest when our canoe boarded. Through
most of that battle we was standin' in bottoms leakin'
full of bullet holes, a-iirin' into the Biscayner's gun-
ports, an' cheerin' the bloody lungs out of us! When
we got aboard, their hold was full of dead men an' their
scuppers washin' red. They asked no quarter an' on we
went, up an' down decks, give an' take. At the last, six
men o' them surrendered. The rest — eighty from the
one ship — we fed to the sharks before we could swab
decks next day. Eh, but that was a v'yage, an' it cost
the seas more good buccaneers than ever was hanged.
Harris an' Sawkins an' half o' their best men we left
on the Isthmus. But out of one galleon we took fifty
thousand pieces-of-eight, besides silver bars in cord
piles. Think o' that, lads!"

A fair, stocky young deserter from a British man-of-
war — his forearm bore the tattooed service anchor —
broke in, his eyes gleaming greedily at the thought of
the treasure.

"That was in New Panama," he cried. "Do you
mind old Ben Gasket we took off Silver Key last sum-

35

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

merl Eighty years old he was, and marooned there for
half his life. He was with Morgan at the great sack of
Old Panama before most on us was born. An' Old Ben,
he said there was nigh two hundred horse-loads o' gold
an' pearls, rubies, emeralds and diamonds took out o'
that there town, an' it a-burnin' still, after they'd been
there a month. Talk o' wealth I"

The man with the broken nose raised himself from
his place by the capstan and stretched his hairy arms
with an evil, leering yawn. Every eye turned to him
and there was silence on the deck as he began to speak.

"Dollars — louis d'ors — doubloons^" said he. "There
was one man got 'em. Solomon Brig got 'em. All the
rest was babes to him — babes an' beggars. Billy Kidd
was thought a great devil in his day, but when he met
Brig's six-gun sloop off Malabar, he turned tail, him
an' his two great galleons, an' ran in under the forts.
Even then we'd ha' had him out an' fought him, only
that the old man had an Indian princess aboard he was
takin' in to Calicut for ransom. That was where Sol
Brig got his broad gold — kidnappin'. Twenty times we
worked it — a dash in an' a fight out, quick an' bloody —
then to sea in the old red sloop, all her sails fair pullin'
the sticks out of her, an' maybe a man-o'-war blazin'
away at our quarter. Weeks after, we'd slip into some
port bold as brass an' there, sure enough. Brig would
set the prisoner ashore an' load maybe a hundred

36

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

weight of little canvas bags or a stack of pig-silver half
a man's height. The very name of him made him safe.
Td take oath he could have stole the Lord Mayor o'
London and then put in for his ransom at Execution
Dock.

''We got good lays, us before the mast, but there
never was a fair sharin' aboard that ship. One night I
crawled aft an' looked in the stern-port. 'Twas just
after we'd got our lays for kidnappin' the Governor o'
Santiago — a rich town as you know. In the cabin sat ol'
Brig, a bare cutlass acrost his lap, countin' piles o' moi-
dores that filled the whole table. When a rope creaked
the old fox saw me an' let drive with his hanger. Where
I was I couldn't dodge quick, an' the blade took me
here, acrost the face. Why he never knifed me, after, I
don't know."

The scarred man stopped with the same abruptness
that had marked his beginning. His fierce, light eyes,
like those of a sea-hawk, swept slowly around the audi-
ence and lit on Jeremy. He reached forward, clutched
the boy's shirt, and with an ugly laugh jerked him to
his feet. " 'Twas havin' boys aboard as killed Sol Brig,"
he rasped.

"They hear too much! Look at this young lubber" —
giving him a shake — "pale as a mouldy biscuit I No use
aboard here an' poverty-poor in the bargain I Why
Stede don't walk him over the side, I don't see. Here,

37

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

get out, you swab!" and he emphasized the name with
a stiff cuff on the ear. Job Howland interposed his long
Yankee body. His lean face bent with a scowl to the
level of the other's eyes. "Pharaoh Daggs," he drawled
evenly, "next time you touch that lad, there'll be steel
between your short ribs. Remember I"

He turned to Jeremy who, poor boy, was utterly and
forlornly seasick. "Here, young 'un," he said kindly,
" — the lee rail I"

38

B

CHAPTER VII

RIGHT summer weather hovered over the Atlan-
tic as the Revenge ploughed smartly south-
ward. Jeremy grew more accustomed to his new
manner of life from day to day and as he found his sea-
legs he began to take a great pleasure in the free, salt
wind that sang in the rigging, the blue sparkle of the
swells, and the circling whiteness of the offshore gulls.
He was left much to himself, for the Captain de-
manded his services only at meal times and to set his
cabin in order in the morning. In the long intervals the
boy sat, inconspicuous in a corner of the fore-deck,
watching the gayly dressed ruffians of the crew, as they
threw dice or quarrelled noisily over their winnings.
He was assigned to no watch, but usually went below
at the same time as Job Howland, thus keeping out of
the way of Daggs, the man with the broken nose. As
Howland was in the port watch, on deck from sunset
to midnight, Jeremy often took comfort in the sight of
his loved stars wheeling westward through the taut
shrouds. He would stand there with a lump in his
throat as he thought of his father's anguish on return-
ing to the island to find the sheep uncared for and the
young shepherd vanished. In a region desolate as that,

39

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

he knew that there was but one conclusion for them to
reach. Still, they might find the ashes of the pirate fire
and keep up a hope that he yet lived.

But the boy could not be unhappy for long. He
would find his way home soon, and he fairly shivered
with delight as he planned the grand reunion that
would take place when he should return. Perhaps he
even imagined himself marching up to the door in sail-
or's blue cloth with a seaman's cloak and cocked hat,
pistol and cutlass in his belt and a hundred gold guin-
eas in his poke. Not for worlds would he have turned
pirate, but the romance of the sea had touched him
and he could not help a flight of fancy now and then.

Sometimes in the long hours of the watch. Job would
give him lessons in seamanship — teach him the names
of ropes and spars and show how each was used. The
boy's greatest delight was to steer the ship when Job
took his trick at the helm. This was no small task for a
boy even as strong as Jeremy. The sloop, like all of
her day, had no wheel but was fitted with a massive
hand tiller, a great curved beam of wood that kicked
amazingly when it was free of its lashings. Of course,
no grown man could have held it in a seaway, but dur-
ing the calm summer nights Jeremy learned to humor
the craft along, her mainsail just drawing in the gen-
tle land breeze, and her head held steadily south, a
point west.

40

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

One night — it was perhaps a week after Jeremy's
capture, and they had been sighting low bits of land
on both bows all day — Dave Herriot came on deck
about the middle of the watch and told Curley, the
Jamaican second mate, he might go below. He set Job
to take soundings and, himself taking the tiller, swung
her over to port with the wind abeam. Jeremy went to
the bows where he could see the white line of shore
ahead. They drew in, steering by Job's soundings, and
by the time the watch changed were ready to cast
anchor in a small sandy bay. Herriot came forward,
scowling darkly under his bushy eyebrows, and rum-
bling an occasional oath to himself. The sloop, her
anchor down and sails furled, swung idly on the tide.
The men were clearly mystified as the sailing-master
started to give orders. "George Dunkin," he said, "take
ten men of the starboard watch, and go ashore to for-
age. There be farms near here and any pigs or fowls
you may come across will be welcome. You, Bill Liv-
ers," addressing the ship's painter, "take a lantern and
your paint-pot and come aft with me. All the rest stay
on deck and keep a double lookout, alow an' aloft!"
The forage party slipped quietly off toward the beach
in one of the boats. The remainder of the crew looked
blankly after the retreating Bill Livers.

"Hm," murmured Job, "has Stede Bonnet gone
clean crazy?" — and as Herriot let the painter down

41

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

over the bulwark at the stern — "Ay, he's goin' to
change her name, by the great Bull Whale I"

An hour before dawn the crew of the longboat re-
turned, grumbling and empty-handed. Herriot ap-
peared preoccupied with some weightier matter and
scarcely deigned to notice their failure by swearing.
There was no singing as the anchor was raised. A sort
of gloom hung over the whole ship. As she stole out to
sea again, the men, one by one, went aft and leaned
outboard, peering down at the broad, squat stern. Jer-
emy did likewise and beheld in new white letters on
the black of the hull, the words Royal James. Next day
in the fo'c's'le council he learned why the renaming of
the Revenge had cast a pall of apprehension over the
crew. There were low-muttered tales of disaster^-of
storm, shipwreck, and fire, and that dread of all sail-
ors— the unknown fate of ships that never come back
to port. Apparently the rule was unfailing. Sooner or
later the ship that had been given a new name would
come to grief and her crew with her. Pharaoh Daggs
cast an eye of hatred at Jeremy and growled that "one
Jonah was enough to have aboard, without clean
drownin' all the luck this way," while the crew looked
black and shifted uneasily in their places.

The bay where they had anchored overnight must
have been somewhere on the eastern end of Long
Island, a favorite landing place for pirates at that time.

42

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

All day they cruised along the hilly southern shore.
The men seemed unable to cast off the gloom that had
settled upon them. Stede Bonnet sat in his cabin, never
once coming on deck, and drinking hard, a thing un-
usual for him. Jeremy, who saw more of him than any
of the foremast hands, realized from his gray, set face
that the man was under a terrible strain of some sort.
He told Job what he had seen and the tall New Eng-
lander looked very thoughtful. He took the boy aside.
"There'll be mutiny in this crew before another night,"
he whispered. "They'll never stand for what he's done.
If it comes to handspikes, you and I'd best watch our
chance to clear out. Pharaoh Daggs don't love us a
mite."

But the mutiny was destined not to occur. An hour
before noon next day the lookout, constantly stationed
in the bows, gave a loud "Sail ho!" and as Dave Her-
riot re-echoed the shout, all hands tumbled on deck
with a rush.

43

CHAPTER VIII

As THE pirate sloop raced southward under full
sail, the form of the other ship became stead-
ily plainer. She was a brig, high-pooped, and
tall-masted, and apparently deeply laden. Major Bon-
net, who had come up at the first warning, seemed his
old cool self as he conned the enemy through a spy-
glass. Jeremy had been detailed as a sort of errand boy,
and as he stood at the Captain's side he heard him
speaking to Herriot.

"She's British, right enough," he was saying. "I can
make out her flag; but how many guns, 'tis harder to
tell. She sees us now, I think, for they seem to be shak-
ing out a topsail . . . Ah, now I can see the sun shine
on her broad-side — two . . . three . . . five in the
lower port tier, and three more above — sixteen in all.
'Twill be a fight, it seems I"

Aboard the Royal James the men were slaving like
ants, preparing for the battle. Every man knew his du-
ties. The gunners and swabbers were putting their can-
non in fettle below decks. Others were rolling out
round-shot from the hold and storing powder in iron-
cased lockers behind the guns. Great tubs of sea water
were placed conveniently in the 'tween-decks and

44

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

blankets were put to soak for use in case of fire. Buck-
ets of vinegar water for swabbing the guns were laid
handy. In the galley the cook made hot grog. Cutlasses
were looked after, pistols cleaned and loaded and mus-
kets set out for close firing. Jeremy was sent hither and
thither on every imaginable mission, a tremendous ex-
citement running in his veins.

The sloop gained rapidly on her prey, hauling over
to windward as she sailed, and when the two ships were
almost within cannon range, Stede Bonnet with his
own hand bent the *'Jolly Roger" to the lanyard and
sent the great black flag with its skull and crossbones
to fly from the masthead. The grog was served out. No
man would have believed that the roaring, rollicking
gang of cutthroats who tossed off their liquor in cheers
and ribald laughter was identical with the grumbling,
sour-faced crew of twenty hours before. As they fin-
ished, something came skipping over the water astern
and the first echoing report followed close. The can-
nonade was on.

A loud yell of defiance swept the length of the Royal
James as the men went to their posts. The gun decks
ran along both sides of the sloop a few feet above the
water line. They were like alley-ways beneath the main
deck, barely wide enough to admit the passage of a
man or a keg of powder behind the gun-carriages. These
latter were not fixed to the planking as afterward be-

45

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

came the fashion, but ran on trucks and were kept in
their places by rope tackles. In action, the recoil had
to be taken up by men who held the ends of these ropes,
rove through pulleys in the vessel's side. Despite their
efforts the gun would sometimes leap back against the
bulkhead hard enough to shatter it. As the charge for
each reloading had to be carried sometimes half the
length of the ship by hand, it is easy to see that the men
who served the guns needed some strength and agility
in getting past the jumping carriages.

Jeremy was sent below to help the gunners, as the
shot from the merchantman continued to scream by.
Job Rowland was a gunner on the port side and the
boy naturally lent his services to the one man aboard
that he could call his friend. There was much bustle in
the alley behind the closed ports but surprisingly little
confusion was apparent. The discipline seemed better
than at any time since the boy had been brought aboard
the black sloop.

Job was ramming the wad home on the charge of
powder in his bow gun. The other four guns in the
port deck were being loaded at the same time, three
men tending each one.

"Here, lad," sang out Job, as he put the single iron
shot in at the muzzle, "take one o' the wet blankets
out o' yon tub an' stand by to fight sparks." Jeremy did
as he was bid, then got out of the way as the ports

46

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

were flung open and the guns run forward, with their
evil bronze noses thrust out into the sunlight.

The sloop, running swiftly with the wind abeam,
had now drawn abreast of her unwieldy adversary. The
merchant captain, apparently, finding himself out-
speeded and being unable to spare his gun crews to
trim sails, had put the head of his ship into the wind,
where she stood, with canvas flapping, her bows offer-
ing a steady mark to the pirate.

"Ready a port broadside I" came Bonnet's ringing
order, and then — "Fire!" Job Rowland's blazing
match went to the touch-hole at the word and his six-
pounder, roaring merrily, jumped back two good feet
against the straining ropes of the tackle. Instantly the
next gun spoke and the next and so on, all five in a
space of a bare ten seconds. Had they been fired simul-
taneously they might have shaken the ship to pieces.
Jeremy was half-deafened, and his whole body was
jarred. Thick black smoke hung in the alleyway, for
the ports had been closed in order to reload in greater
safety. The boy felt the deck heel to starboard under
him and thought at first that a shot had caught them
under the waterline, but when he was sent above to
find out whether the broadside had taken effect, he
found that the sloop had come about and was already
driving north still to windward of the enemy. Bonnet
was giving his gunners more time to load by running

47

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

back and forth and using his batteries alternately. Her-
riot had the tiller and in response to Jeremy's question
he pointed to the fluttering rags of the brig's foresail
and the smoke that issued from a splintered hole under
her bow chains.

Below in the gun deck the buccaneers, sweating by
their pieces, heard the news with cheers. The sloop
shook to the jarring report of the starboard battery a
moment later, and hardly had it ceased when she came
about on the other tack. "Hurrah," cried Job's mates,
"we'll show him this time I Wind an' water — wind an'
water I"

The open traps showed the green seas swirling past
close below, and off across the swells the tall side of
the merchantman swaying in the trough of the waves.
"Ready I" came the order and every gunner jumped to
the breech, match in hand. Before the command came
to fire there was a crash of splintering wood and a long,
intermittent roar came over the water. The brig had
taken advantage of her falling off the wind to deliver
a broadside in her own turn. Stede Bonnet's voice, cool
as ever, gave the order and four guns answered the
brig's discharge. The crew of the middle cannon lay on
the deck in a pitiable state, two killed outright and the
gunner bleeding from a great splinter wound in the
head. A shot had entered to one side of the port, tear-
ing the planking to bits and after striking down the two

48

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

gun-servers, had passed into the fo'c's'le. Jeremy
jumped forward with his blanket in time to stamp out
a blaze where the iiring-match had been dropped, and
with the help of one of the pirates dragged the
wounded man to his berth. Almost every shot of the last
volley had done damage aboard the brig. Her free-
board, twice as high as that of the sloop, had offered
a target which for expert gunners was hard to miss.
Jagged openings showed all along her side, and as she
rose on a swell. Job shouted, "See there! She's leakin'
now. 'Twas my last shot did that — right on her water-
me I

"All hands on deck to board her I" came a shout,
almost at the same instant. Jeremy hurrying up with
the rest found the sloop bearing down straight before
the wind, and only a dozen boat's lengths from the
enemy.

A wild whoop went up among the pirates. Every
man had seized on a musket and was crouching behind
the rail. Bonnet alone stood on the open deck, his buff
coat blowing open and his hand resting lightly on his
sword. An occasional cannon shot screamed overhead
or splashed away astern. Apparently the brig's batteries
were too greatly damaged and her crew too badly shot
up to offer an effective bombardment. She was drifting
helplessly under tattered ribbons of canvas and the
Royal James, whose sails had suffered far less, bore

49

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

down upon her opponent with the swoop of a hawk.

As she drew close aboard a scattered fusillade of
small arms broke out from the brig's poop, wounding
one man, a Portuguese, but for the most part striking
harmlessly against the bulwark. The buccaneers held
their hre till they were scarce a boat's length distant.
Then at the order they swept the ship with a withering
musket volley. The brig was down by the head and lay
almost bow on so that her deck was exposed to Bonnet's
marksmen. Herriot brought his sloop about like a flash
and almost before Jeremy realized what was toward,
the ships had bumped together side by side, and the
howling mob of pirates was swarming over the enemy's
rail. Job Rowland and another man took great boat-
hooks, with which they grappled the brig's ports and
kept the two vessels from drifting apart. Jeremy was
alone upon the sloop's deck. He put the thickness of
the mast between him and the hail of bullets and
peered fearfully out at the terrible scene above.

The crew of the brig had been too much disorganized
to repel the boarders as well as they might, and the
entire horde of wild barbarians had scrambled to her
deck, where a perfect inferno now held sway. The air
seemed full of flying cutlasses that produced an inces-
sant hiss and clangor. Pistols banged deafeningly at
close quarters and there was the constant undertone
of groans, cries and bellowed oaths. Above the din came

50

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the terrible, clear voice of Stede Bonnet, urging on his
seadogs. He had become a different man from the mo-
ment his foot touched the merchantman's deck. From
the cool commander he had changed to a devil incar-
nate, with face distorted, eyes aflame, and a sword
that hacked and stabbed with the swift ferocity of
lightning. Jeremy saw him, fighting single-handed
with three men. His long sword played in and out, to
the right and to the left with a turn and a flash, then,
whirling swiftly, pinned a man who had run up
behind. Bonnet's feet moved quickly, shifting ground
as stealthily as a cat's and in a second he had leaped
to a safer position with his back to the after-house.
Two of his opponents were down, and the third fight-
ing wearily and without confidence, when a huge,
flaxen-haired man burst from the hatch to the deck and
swung his broad cutlass to such effect that the battling
groups in his path gave way to either side. The burly
form of Dave Herriot opposed the new enemy and
as the two giants squared off, sword ringing on sword,
more than one wounded sailor raised himself to a better
position, grinning with the Anglo-Saxon's unquench-
able love of a fair fight. Herriot was no mean swords-
man of the rough and ready seaman's type and had a
great physique as well, but his previous labors — he had
been the first man on board and had already accounted
for a fair share of the defenders — had rendered him

51

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

slow and arm-weary. The ready parrying, blade to
blade, ceased suddenly as his foot slipped backward
in a pool of blood. The blond seaman seized his advan-
tage and swung a slicing blow that glanced off Her-
riot's forehead, and felled the huge buccaneer to the
deck where he lay stunned, the quick red staining his
head-cloth. As the blond-haired man stepped forward
to finish the business, a long, keen, straight blade inter-
posed, caught his cutlass in an upward parry and at
the same time pinked him painfully in the arm.

Jumping back the seaman found himself faced by
the pitiless eyes of Steve Bonnet, who had killed his
last opponent and run in to save his mate's life. That
quick, darting sword baffled the sailor. Swing and hack
as he might, his blows were caught in midair and fell
away harmless, while always the relentless point drove
him back and back. Forced to the rail, he stood his
ground desperately, pale and glistening with the sweat
of a man in the fear of death. Then his sword flew up,
the pirate captain stabbed him through the throat and
with a dying gasp the limp body fell backward into the
sea.

Meanwhile the pirates had steadily gained ground
in the hand to hand struggle and now a bare half-dozen
brave fellows held on, fighting singly or in pairs, back
to back. The brig's captain, wounded in several places
and seeing his crew in a fair way to be annihilated,

52

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

flung up a tired arm and cried for quarter. Almost at
once the fighting ceased and half the combatants,
utterly exhausted, sank down among their dead and
wounded fellows. The deck was a long shambles, red
from the bits to the poop.

While the hands of the prisoners were being bound,
Bonnet and all of his men not otherwise employed
hurried below to search for loot. The man who had
held the boat-hook astern left this task and greedily
clambered up the brig's side lest he should miss his
chance at the booty. Job alone stuck to his post, and
motioned Jeremy to stay where he was. Cheers and
yells of joy rang from the after-hold of the merchant-
man where the pirates had evidently discovered the
ship's store of wine.

After a few moments Pharaoh Daggs thrust his
scarred face out of the companion, and with a fierce roar
of laughter waved a black bottle above his head. The
others followed, drinking and babbling curses, and
last of all Stede Bonnet, pale, dishevelled, mad with
blood and liquor, stood bareheaded by the hatch. He
raised his hand in a gesture of silence and all the hub-
bub ceased. "We have beaten them I" he cried between
twitching lips. "I, Captain Thomas, the chiefest of all
the pirates, and my bully-boys of the Royal James!
We'll show 'em all I We'll show 'em all I Blackbeard
and all the rest I He, he, he I" and his voice trailed

53

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

off in crazy laughter. The men of the crew stood about
him on the brig's deck dumbfounded by his words.
Jeremy could hardly breathe in his surprise. Suddenly
he gave a start and would have cried out but that
Job Rowland's hand closed his mouth. A swiftly wid-
ening lane of water separated the sloop from her late
enemy.

54

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A

CHAPTER IX

s SHE cleared the side of the waterlogged mer-
chantman, the Royal James began to move.
Her sails, which had been left flapping during
the close fighting, now filled with a bang and she went
away smartly on the starboard tack. Job had dragged
Jeremy aft and the two were huddled at the tiller,
partially screened by the mainsail, when a howl of
consternation broke out aboard the brig. Few if
any of the firearms were still loaded, or they might
have been shot to death, out of hand. As it was, the
sloop had drawn away to a distance of nearly a
quarter of a mile before any effort was made to stop
her.

Then a single cannon roared and a round shot
whizzed by along the tops of the waves. When the
next report came, Jeremy could see the splash fall
far astern. They were out of range.

The two runaways now felt comparatively safe. It
was certain that the brig was too badly damaged to
give chase even if she could keep afloat. Jeremy felt
a momentary pang at the thought of leaving even that
graceless crowd in such jeopardy, but he remembered
that they had the brig's boats in which to leave the

SS

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

hulk, and his own present danger soon gave him enough
to occupy him.

Job lashed the tiller and going to the lanyard at the
mainmast, hauled down the black flag. Then they both
set to work cleaning up the deck. The three dead men
were given sea burial — slipped overboard without
other ceremony than the short prayer for each which
Jeremy repeated. The gunner who lay in agony in his
berth had his wound bound up and was given a sip
of brandy. Then the lank New Englander went below
to get a meal, while Jeremy sluiced the gun decks with
sea water.

Night was falling when Job reappeared on deck with
biscuit and beans and some preserves out of the Cap-
tain's locker. There was little appetite in Jeremy after
what he had witnessed that day, but his tall friend
ate his supper with a relish and seemed quite elated at
the prospect of the voyage to shore. He filled a clay
pipe after the meal and smoked meditatively awhile,
then addressed the boy with a queer hesitancy.

"Sonny," he began, "since we picked you up, I've
been thinkin' every day, more an' more, what I'd give
to be back at your age with another chance. Piratin'
seemed a fine upstandin' trade to me when I begun, —
independent an' adventurous too, it seemed. But it's
not so fine — not so fine I" He paused. "One or two or
maybe five years o' rough livin' an' rougher fightin',

56

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

a powerful waste o' money in drink an' such, an' in the
end — a dog's death by shootin' or starvation, or the
chains on Execution Dock." Another pause followed
and then, turning suddenly to Jeremy — "Lad, I can
get a Governor's pardon ashore, but 'twould mean
nought to me if my old days came back to trouble me.
You're young an' you're honest an' what's more you
believe in God. Do you figger a man can square himself
after livin' like I've lived *?" The boy looked into the
pirate's homely, anxious face. He felt that he would
always trust Job Rowland. "Ay," he answered
straightforwardly, and put out his hand. The man
gripped it with a sort of fierce eagerness that was good
to see and smiled the smile of a man at peace with
himself. Then he solemnly drew out his clasp-knife and
pricked a small cross in the skin of his forearm.
"That," said he, "is for a sign that once I get out o'
this here pickle Til never pirate nor free-trade no
more."

The wind sank to a mere breath as the darkness gath-
ered and Jeremy stood the first watch while his tired
friend settled into a deep sleep that lasted till he was
wakened a little after midnight. Then the boy took
his turn at sleeping.

When the morning light shone into his eyes he woke
to find Job pacing the deck and casting troubled looks
at the sky. The wind was dead and only an occasional

57

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

whiff of light air moved the idly swinging canvas. A
tiny swell rocked the sloop as gently as a cradle.

"Well, my boy, we won't get far toward shore at
this gait," said Job cheerfully as Jeremy came up.
"Except for maybe three hours sailin' last night, we've
made no progress at all. I've got some porridge cooked
below. You bring it on deck an' we'll have a snack."

The meal finished, they turned to the rather trying
task of waiting for a breeze. About noon Job climbed
to the masthead for a reconnaissance and on coming
down reported a sail to the east, but no sign of any
wind. The sky was dull and overcast so that Job made
no effort to determine their bearings. They figured that
they had drifted a dozen or more sea-miles to the west
since the battle, and were lying somewhere off the little
port of New York.

The day passed, Job amusing Jeremy with tales of
his adventures and old sea-yarns and soon night had
overtaken them again. This time the boy had the first
nap. He was roused to take his watch when Job saw
by the stars that it was eight bells, and, still yawning
with sleep, the lad went to stand by the rail. Every-
thing was quiet on the sea, and even the swell had
died out, leaving a perfect calm. There was no moon.
The boy's head sank on his breast and softly he slid to
the deck. Drowsiness had overcome him so gently that
he slept before he knew he was sleepy.

58

CHAPTER X

Jeremy's first waking sensation was the sound of
a hoarse confused shout and the rattle of oars
being shipped. He struggled to his feet, staring
into the dark astern. Almost at the same instant there
came a series of bumps along the sloop's side, and as the
boy rushed to the hatch to call his ally, he heard feet
pounding the deck. "Job I" he cried, "Job!" and then a
heavy hand smote him on the mouth and he lost con-
sciousness for a time.

The period during which he stood awake and terri-
fied had been so brief and so fraught with terror that
it never seemed real to the lad in memory. There was
something of the awful hopelessness of nightmare
about it. Always afterward he had difficulty in con-
vincing himself that he had not slept steadily from
the time he drowsed on watch to the minute when he
opened his eyes to the light of morning and felt his
aching head throb against the hard deck.

As he lay staring at the sky, a footstep approached
and some one stood over him. He turned his eyes pain-
fully to look and beheld the dark, bearded visage of
George Dunkin, the bo's'n, who scowled angrily and
kicked him in the ribs with a heavy toe. "Get up, ye

59

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

young lubber I" roared the man and swore fiercely as
the boy, unable to move, still lay upon his back. A
moment later the bo's'n went away. To Jeremy's numb
consciousness came the realization that the pirates had
caught them again.

The words of the Captain on his first day aboard
came back to the lad and made him shudder. There
had been stories current among the men that gave a
glimpse of how Stede Bonnet dealt with those who
were treacherous. Which of a dozen awful deaths was
in store for him? Ah, if only they would spare the
torture, he thought that he could die bravely, a worthy
scion of dauntless stock. He thought of Job who must
have been seized in his bunk below. The poor fellow
was to have short happiness in his changed way of life,
it seemed.

Jeremy tried to steel his nerves against the test he
was sure must follow soon. Instead of going to pieces
in terror, he succeeded in forcing himself to the attitude
of a young stoic. He had done nothing of which he was
ashamed, and he felt that if he was called to face a
just God in the next twenty-four hours, he would be
able to hold his head up like a man.

Time passed, and he heard a heavy tramp coming
along the deck. He was hoisted roughly by hands under
his arm-pits and placed upon his feet, though he was
still too weak to stand without support. A dozen faces
surrounded him, glaring angrily. Out of a sort of mist

60

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

that partly obscured his vision came the terrible leer
of the man with the broken nose. The twisted mouth
opened and the man spoke with a deliberate ugliness.
The very absence of oaths seemed to make his slow
speech more deadly.

"Ah, ye misbegotten young fool," he said, "so there
ye stand, scared like the cowardly spawn ye are. We
took ye, and kept ye, and fed ye. What's more, we
was friends to you, eh, mates'? An' how do ye treat
yer friends? Leave 'em to starve or drown on a sinkin'
ship I Sneak off like a dog an' a son of a cowardly dog I"
Jeremy went white with anger. "An' now" — Daggs'
voice broke in a sudden snarl — "an' now, we'll show
ye how we treat such curs aboard a ten-gun buccaneer !
Stand by, mates, to keel-haul him I"

At this moment a second party of pirates poured
swearing out of the fo'c's'le hatch, dragging Job How-
land in their midst. He was stripped to his shirt and
under-breeches and had apparently received a few
bruises in the tussle below. Jeremy's spirits were mo-
mentarily revived by seeing that some of the bucca-
neers had suffered like inconveniences, while the young
ex-man-o'-war's-man was gingerly feeling of a shape-
less blob that had been his nose. Dave Herriot, his
head tied up in a bandage, was superintending the
preparations for punishment. "Let's have the boy
first," he shouted.

Aboard a square-rigger, keel-hauling was practiced

6i

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

from the main yardarm. The victim was dragged com-
pletely under the ship's bottom, scraping over the
jagged barnacles, and drawn up on the other side,
more often dead than living. As the sloop had only
fore and aft sails, they had merely run a rope under
the bottom, bringing both ends together amidships.
They now dragged the boy forward, still in a half-
fainting condition and made fast his feet in a loop
in one end of the rope, then, stretching his arms along
the deck in the other direction, bound his wrists in a
similar way. He was practically made a part of the ring
of hemp that circled the ship's middle.

Without further ceremony other than a parting kick
or two, the crew took their places at the rope, ready
to pull the lad to destruction. He set his teeth and
a wordless prayer went up from his heart.

The wrench of the rope at his ankles never came.
As he lay with his eyes closed, a high-pitched voice
broke the quiet. "If a man starts to haul on that line,
I'll shoot him dead I" Jeremy turned his head and
looked. There stood Stede Bonnet, his face ashen gray
and trembling, but with a venomous fire in his sunken
eyes. He held a pistol in each hand and two more were
thrust into his waist-band. Not a man stirred in the
crew.

"That boy," went on the clear voice, "had no hand
in the business, and well you know it. It is for me to

62

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

give out punishments while I am Captain of this sloop,
and, by God, I shall be Captain during my life. Pharaoh
Daggs, step forward and unloose the rope I" The man
with the broken nose fixed his light eyes on the Cap-
tain's for a full five seconds. Bonnet's pistol muzzle
was as steady as a rock. Then the sailor's eyes shifted
and he obeyed with a sullen reluctance. Jeremy, liber-
ated, climbed to his knees and stood up swaying. Just
then there was a rush of feet behind. He turned in
time to see Job Rowland vanish head foremost over
the rail in a long clean dive. The astonished crew ran
cursing to the side and stared after him, but no faintest
trace of the man appeared. At dawn a breeze had
sprung up and now the little waves chopped along
below the ports with a sound like a mocking chuckle.
They had robbed the buccaneers of their cruel sport.

Mutiny might have broken out then and there, but
Stede Bonnet, cool as ever, stood amidships with his
arms crossed and a calm-looking pistol in each fist.
"Herriot," he remarked evenly, "better set the men
to cleaning decks and repairing damage. We'll start
down the Jersey coast at once."

Jeremy got to his bunk as best he might and slept
for the greater part of twenty-four hours. When he
awoke, the crew had just finished breakfast and were
sitting, every man by himself, counting out gold
pieces. Bonnet had divided the booty found on the

63

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

brig and in their greedy satisfaction the pirates were,
for the time at least, utterly oblivious to former dis-
content. When he got up and went to the galley for
breakfast, Jeremy was ignored by his fellows or treated
as if nothing had occurred. Indeed, there had been
little real ground for wishing to punish the boy aside
from the ugly temper occasioned by having to row a
night and a day in open boats. Only Pharaoh Daggs
bore real malice toward Jeremy and his feelings were
for the most part concealed under a mask of con-
temptuous indifference.

As the day progressed the lad found that matters had
resumed their accustomed course and that he was in
no immediate danger. He missed his brave friend and
co-partner as bitterly as if he had been a brother, but
partially consoled himself with the thought that Job's
act in jumping overboard had probably spared him the
awful torture of the keel or some worse death. The
Captain would never have defended the runaway
sailor as he had done Jeremy, the boy was certain.

All day the sloop made her way south at a brisk rate,
occasionally sighting low, white beaches to starboard.
Sometime in the first dog-watch her boom went over
and she ran her slim nose in past Cape May, heading
up the Delaware with the hurrying tide, while the
brig's longboat, towing behind, swung into her wake
astern.

64

CHAPTER XI

HEN the gang of buccaneers had tumbled
down the hatch after Jeremy's cry of warn-
ing, Job Howland, barely awake, had
leaped to the narrow angle that made the forward end
of the fo'c's'le, seizing a pistol as he went. Intrenching
himself behind a chest, with the bulkhead behind him
and on both sides, he had kept the maddened crew at
bay for several moments. The pistol, covering the only
path of attack, made them wary of approaching too
close. When, finally, a half-dozen jumped forward at
once, he pulled the trigger only to find that the weapon
had not been loaded. In desperation he grasped the
muzzle in his hand and struck out fiercely with the
heavy butt, beating off his assailants time after time.
This was well enough at first, but the buccaneers, who
cared much less for a broken crown than for a bullet
wound, pressed in closer and closer, striking with fists
and marline-spikes. It was soon over. They jammed
him so far into the corner that his tireless arm no longer
had free play, and then bore him down under sheer
weight of numbers. When he ceased to struggle they
seized him fast and carried him to the deck.

Job was out of breath and much bruised but had

66

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

suffered no lasting hurt. He saw Jeremy led forward,
heard the men's cries and realized that the torture was
in store for them both.

Unbound, but helpless to interfere, he saw the boy
stretched on the deck and the rope attached to his arms
and legs. He suffered greater agony than did Jeremy
as the crew made ready to begin their awful work, for
he had seen keel-hauling before. And then suddenly
Stede Bonnet was standing by the companion and the
ringing shout that saved the boy's life struck on Job's
ears. He could hardly keep from cheering the Captain
then and there, but relief at Jeremy's delivery brought
with it a return of his quick wits. He himself was in as
great danger as ever.

He was facing aft, and his eye, roving the deck for
a means of escape, lit on the brig's boat, which the
pirates had tied astern after reboarding the sloop. She
was trailing at the end of a painter, her bows rising
and falling on the choppy waves. He waited only long
enough to see that the Captain succeeded in freeing
Jeremy, then drew a great breath and plunged over the
side. Swimming under water, he watched for the towed
longboat to come by overhead, and as her dark bulk
passed, he caught her keel with a strong grip of his
fingers, worked his way back and came up gasping, his
hands holding to the rudder ring in her stern.

The hot, still days had warmed the surface of the

67

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

sea to a temperature far above the normal, or he must
certainly have become exhausted in a short time. As
it was, he clung to his ring till near noon, when, cau-
tiously peering above the gunwale, he saw the sloop's
deck empty save for a steersman, half asleep in the
hot sun by the tiller. With a great wrench of his arms
the ex-buccaneer lifted himself over the stern and
slipped as quietly as he was able into the boat's bottom.
There he lay breathless, listening for sounds of alarm
aboard the sloop. None came and after a few moments
he wriggled forward and made himself snug under the
bow-thwart. The boat carried a water-beaker and a can
of biscuit for emergency use. After refreshing himself
with these and drying out his thin clothing in the sun,
he retreated under the shade of the thwart and slept
the sleep of utter fatigue.

Late the next day he took a brief observation of the
horizon. There was sandy shore to the east and from
what he knew of the coast and the ship's course he
judged they must be nearing the entrance to Delaware
Bay. His long rest had restored to him most of his vigor
and although he was sore in many places, he felt per-
fectly ready to try an escape as soon as the sloop should
approach the land and offer him an opportunity.

As the night went on the Royal James made good
speed up the Bay aided by a strong tide. A little while
before light she came close enough to the west shore

68

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

for Job to see the outlines of trees on a bluff. He figured
the distance to be not above a mile at most. There
was some question in his mind whether he should cut
the painter and use the boat in getting away or swim
for it. He decided that it would be better for him in
most ways if the pirates still supposed him dead. So,
quietly as an otter, he slipped over the gunwale, pad-
dled away from the boat's side and set out for the land,
ploughing through the water with a long overarm
stroke.

Job had a hard fight with the turning tide before
the trees loomed above his head and his feet scraped
gravel under the bank. When at last he crept gasping
out upon dry ground, it was miles to the southward of
his first destination. Dawn had come and the early
light silvered the rippling cross-swells and glinted on
the white wings of the gulls. The big mariner shook
the water from his sides like a spaniel, stretched both
long arms to the warm sky, laughed as he thought of his
escape and turning his gaunt face to the northward set
out swiftly along the tree-clad bluffs.

69

CHAPTER XII

MEANWHILE the Royal James was far up inside
the Capes, sailing demurely along, the ports
of her gun deck closed and the British colors
fluttering from her top. Jeremy watched the shores
they passed with deep interest. He wondered if there
would be a chance for him to get away when they
came to anchor. There was nothing but hardship in his
lot aboard the sloop, now that Job was gone. He was
unnoticed for the most part by the men of the crew,
and when any of them spoke to him it was with a cufF
or a curse. As for Captain Bonnet, he had relapsed into
one of his black moods. Nothing brought him on deck
or made him speak except to give Herriot monosyllabic
commands.

Late the following day, after a slow progress along
the Delaware shore, the sloop hove to in a wide road-
stead and the anchor was run out. The steeples and
shipping of a little town were visible by the water side,
but no one put off to meet them. To the surprise of all.
Bonnet himself came on deck, wearing a good coat and
fresh ruffles and with his hair powdered. He ordered
the gig lowered, then looked about the assembled crew
and addressed them good-humoredly enough. "Now,

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

my lads," said he, 'Tm going ashore with a picked
boat's crew to get what news there is about. You that
go with me remember that you are of the Royal James,
honest merchant coaster, and that I am Captain
Thomas, likewise honest navigator. We'll separate into
every tavern and ship-chandler's place along the
wharves, pick up the names of all ships that are soon
to sail, and their cargoes, and meet at the gig at eight
bells. Herriot and you men aboard here, keep a strict
watch. Daggs, I leave the boy in your charge. Don't
let him out of your sight."

At the last word Jeremy's heart sank to his boots.
He knew how futile would be any attempt to escape
under the cold hawk-eyes of the man with the broken
nose. As the gig put off from the sloop's side, the boy
leaned dejectedly against the rail. Pharaoh Daggs
slouched up to him. "Ah, there, young 'un," said he with
cynical jocularity, "just thinkin' o' leavin' us, were ye,
when the old man took the gimp out o' ye^" The ban-
tering note vanished from the man's voice. 'T'd like to
break yer neck, ye young whelp, but I won't — not just
yet I" He seemed to be licking his ugly chops at the
thought of a future occasion when he might allow
himself this luxury. Then he went on, half to himself
it seemed. "Hm, Bonnet's a queer 'un! Never can tell
what he'll do. Them eight men aboard that brig, now —
never was a rougher piece o' piracy since Morgan's day

71

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

than his makin' those beggars walk the plank. Stood
there an' roared an' laughed, he did, an' pricked 'em
behind till they tipped the board. An' then to stop us
from drownin' a blasted little rat that'd tried to kill
us all! Oh, he's bad, is Stede — bad I" Jeremy gave a
start as this soliloquy progressed. He had wondered
once or twice what had become of the prisoners taken
aboard the brig. That attempted escape of Job's had
cost dear in human life it seemed. And his own deliv-
erance had been the mere whim of a mad-man I He
shuddered and thanked God fervently for the fortune
that had so far attended him.

There was a pause while the buccaneer seemed to
regard him with a sort of crafty hesitancy. At length
he spoke.

"See here, boy," he said, his voice sinking to a hoarse
whisper, "how long had you been livin' on that there
island?"

Jeremy looked up wonderingly. "Not long," he
answered, "only a day or two, really."

"And you — nor none of yer folks — never went nosin'
round there to find nothin', did yer? Tell me the truth,
now!" Daggs leaned closer, a murderous intensity in
his face.

"No," said Jeremy, squirming as the man's fingers
gripped his shoulder.

The pirate gave him another long, piercing look

72

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

from his terrible eyes, then released him and went for-
ward, where he stood staring off toward the shore.

In his wretched loneliness the boy sank down by
the rail, his heart heavier than it had ever been in his
whole life. It might have been a relief to him to cry.
A great lump was in his throat indeed and his eyes
smarted, but he had considered himself too old for tears
almost since he could walk, and now with the realiza-
tion that he was near shedding them, he forced his
shoulders back, shut his square jaw and resolved that
he would be a man, come what might. Darkness settled
over the river mouth. The form of Pharaoh Daggs in
black silhouette against the gray of the sky sent a
shudder through Jeremy. He recalled with startling
distinctness the solitary man he had seen on the island
the night of his capture. The two figures were identical.
Pondering, the boy fell asleep.

It was some four hours later that he woke to the
sound of hurrying oars close aboard. A subdued shout
came across the water. The voice was Stede Bonnet's.
"Stand by to take us on I" he cried. A moment later
the gig shot into sight, her crew rowing like mad. They
pulled in their oars, swept up alongside the black sloop,
and were caught and pulled aboard by ready hands.
"Cut the cable I" cried the Captain as soon as he reached
the deck. The gig was swung up, the cable chopped
in two and the mainsail spread, and in an incredibly

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

short time the Royal James was bowling along down
the roadstead. Hardly had she gotten under way when
two longboats appeared astern and amid shouts and
orders to surrender from their crews, a scattered fusil-
lade of bullets came aboard. No one on the sloop was
hit, and as the sails began to draw properly the pirate
craft soon left her pursuers far to the rear.

Jeremy, never one to watch others work, had lent
a hand wherever he was best able, during the rush of
the escape. When the sloop was well out of range and
the excitement had subsided, he turned for the first
time to look at a small group that had been talking
amidships. Two of the figures were very well known to
him — Bonnet and Herriot. The light of a lantern,
which the latter held, fell upon the face of a boy no
older than Jeremy, dressed in the finest clothes the
young New Englander had ever seen.

The lad's face was dark and resolute, his hair black,
smoothly brushed back and tied behind with a small
ribbon. His blue coat was of velvet, neatly cut. Below
his long flowered waistcoat were displayed buff velvet
breeches and silk stockings of the same color. His shoes
were of fine leather and buckled with silver.

In response to the oaths and rough questions of the
two pirates, the lad seemed to have little to say. When
he spoke it was with a scornful ring in his voice. The
first words Jeremy heard him say were: "You'll under-

74

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

stand it soon, I fancy. We are well enough known
along the bay and my father, as I have said, is a friend
of the Governor's. There'll be ten ships after you before
morning." Herriot put back his head and roared with
laughter. "Hear the young braggart I" he shouted.
"Ten ships for such a milk-fed baby as he is I"

"Well, my lad," said the Captain, "you'll be treated
well enough while we wait for the money to be paid.
Here, Jeremy I" As the young backwoodsman came up,
Bonnet continued, "Two boys aboard is bad business,
for you're sure to be scheming to get away. However,
it can't be helped, just yet, and mind what I say, —
there'll be a bullet ready for the first one that tries it.
Now get below, the pair of you."

Glad as he was to have a companion of his own age
aboard, Jeremy, boylike, was too shy to say anything
to the new arrival that night, and indeed the other
boy seemed to class him with the rest of the pirates
and to feel some repugnance at his company. So the
two unfortunate youngsters slept fitfully, side by side,
until broad daylight next morning.

75

T

CHAPTER XIII

!/■ w N^HE "salt horse" which was served out for break-
fast aboard the Royal James made scant appeal
to the Delaware boy's appetite. He hardly-
touched the portion which Jeremy offered him and kept
up his pose of proud aloofness all the morning. It is
scarcely a matter for wonder that he did not at once
make friends with Jeremy. The latter's buckskin
breeches and moccasins had been taken from him when
he came aboard and he was now clad in his old leather
tunic, a pair of seaman's trousers, which bagged nearly
to his ankles, wrinkled, garterless wool socks and an
old pair of buckled shoes, stuffed with rags to make
them fit. His hair, never very manageable, had received
little attention during the voyage and now was as
wild and rough as that of a savage. It would have
required a long second glance for one to see the fine
qualities of grit and self-reliance in the boy's keen face.
The sloop was making great speed down the middle
channel of the Bay, her canvas straining in a fine west
breeze, and her deck canted far to leeward. No boy
could long withstand the pleasure of sailing on such
a day, and before noon the young stranger had given
in to a consuming desire to know the names of things.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Jeremy now had the whole ship by heart and was filled
with joy at the opportunity of talking about her to one
more ignorant than himself. Of course, he was as proud
of the Royal James as if he owned her. How he glowed
over his account of the battle with the brig I Nothing
on the coast could outsail the sloop, he was sure. In-
deed, it was with some regret that he admitted a hope
of her being overtaken by the Delaware boy's friends,
and he was divided between pride and despair as the
day went on and no sail appeared to the north. By noon
his new acquaintance was ravenously hungry, as was to
be expected, and over their pannikins of soup the last
reserve between them went by the board.

"Are you his son?" asked the dark-haired lad, nod-
ding toward Herriot. Jeremy laughed and described his
adventure from the beginning while the other marveled
open-mouthed. "Are they holding you for ransom,
too?" asked he, as the story ended. "No," replied
Jeremy, "I reckon they knew as soon as they saw me
that there wasn't much money to be gotten in my case.
As I figure it, they didn't dare leave me on the island
for fear I'd have those three ships-of-war after them."
Both boys laughed as they thought of the head-long
flight of Stede Bonnet's company from a garrison of
fifteen sheep.

"Well," said the Delaware boy, still chuckling, "you
know most of my story already. My father is Clarke

77

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Curtis of New Castle. My own name is Bob. Father
owns some ships in the East India trade and has a
plantation up on the Brandywine creek. Last night I
was at our warehouse by the wharves. Father was inside
talking to one of his captains who had just come to
port. I wanted to see the ship — she's a full-rigger, three
or four times as big as this, and fast too for her burden.
Well, I went down on the dock where she was moored.
There was nobody around and no lights and she stood
up above the wharf-side all dark and big — her main-
mast is as high as our church steeple, you know — and
I was just looking up at her and wondering where
the watchman was, when four men came along down
the wharf. I thought perhaps 'twas Father and some
of his men. When they were quite close that biggest
one, Herriot, stepped up to me and before I could
shout he put his hand over my mouth and held me.
They gagged me fast and then one of them gave a
whistle, long and low. Pretty soon a boat came up to
the dock and they grabbed me and put me in, spite
of all I could do. They paddled along to another wharf
and took aboard some more men and then started to
row out as fast as they could. I guess those boats that
came after us were from Father's ship. He must have
missed me right away. So now old Bonnet or Thomas
or whatever his name is thinks he's going to get a fat
sum out of me. That's all of my story, so far. But

78

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

there'll be another chapter yet I" Jeremy, for both their
sakes, sincerely hoped that there might.

At sunset of that day the Royal James cleared Cape
Henlopen and held her course for the open sea, while
behind her in the gathering dusk the coast grew hazy —
faded out — was gone. The two boys, sitting late into
the first watch, shivered with that fine ecstasy of adven-
ture that can come only in the shadowy mystery of
star-lit decks and the long, whispering ripple of a fol-
lowing sea.

Jeremy, who twenty-four hours before had thought
of the ship as a place of utter desolation, would not
now have changed places with any boy alive. He knew,
perhaps for the first time, the fulness of joy that comes
into life with human companionship. That night two
lads at least had golden dreams of a youthful kind.
Ducats and doubloons, princesses and plum-cake,
swords awave and cannon blazing, great galleons with
crimson sails — no wonder that they were smiling in
their sleep when George Dunkin held a lantern over
the bunk at the change of the watch.

79

CHAPTER XIV

!/• WN^HE day came in dark with fog, which changed
I a little after noon to driving scud. The wind
J-L had gone around to the northeast and fresh-
ened steadily, driving the waves in from the sea in
steep gray hills, quite different from anything Jeremy
had before experienced. The sloop, under three reefs
and a storm jib, began to make rough weather of it,
staggering up and down the long slopes in an aimless,
dizzy fashion that made Jeremy and Bob very un-
happy. The poor young New Englander had to per-
form his regular tasks no matter how he felt within,
but once the work was done he stumbled forward mis-
erably and lay upon his bunk. Bob was too wretched
to talk all day, and for the time at least cared very
little whether he was rescued or keel-hauled.

Near nightfall Jeremy went aft to serve the Cap-
tain's supper, and as he returned along the reeling wet
deck in the gathering dark, he stopped a moment to
look off to windward. The racing white tops of the
waves gleamed momentarily and vanished. He was ap-
palled at their height. While the little vessel surged
along in the trough, great slopes of foam and black
water rose on either beam, up and up like tossing hill-

81

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

sides. Then would come the staggering climb to the
summit, and for a dizzy second the terrified lad, cling-
ing to a shroud, could look for miles across the shifting
valleys. Before he could catch his breath, the sloop
pitched down the next declivity in a long, sickening
sag, and rocked for a brief instant at the foot, her masts
swaying in a great arc half across the sky. Then she
began to ascend. Shivering and wide-eyed, the boy
crept to his bunk, where he fell asleep at last to the
sound of screaming wind and lashing water.

At dawn and all next day the gale swept down from
the northeast unabated. The fo'c's'le was thick with
tobacco smoke and the wet reek of the crew, for only
the steersman and the lookout would stay on deck.
Bob, somewhat recovered from his seasickness, lay
wide-eyed in his bunk and heard such tales of plunder
and savagery on the high seas as made his blood run
cold. When Jeremy came dripping down the ladder,
early that afternoon, he found the Delaware lad star-
ing at Pharaoh Daggs with a look of positive terror.
The buccaneer's evil face was lit up by the rays of the
smoky lantern, hung from a hook in one of the deck
beams. He sat on the edge of the fo'c's'le table, his
heavy shoulders hunched and a long clay pipe in his
teeth. "That night," he was saying, ''four on us went
an' cut Sol Brig down from where they'd hanged him.
We got away, down to the sloop an' out to sea with

82

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

him. I didn't have no cause to love the old devil, but
I'd ha' hated to have a ghost lii^e his after me, so I lent
a hand. We wrapped him up decent an' gave him sea-
burial from his own deck, as he'd paced for thirty year.
An' then,'' he said with a snarl and half-turning to face
Jeremy, "we got them two boys on deck I Both of 'em
said 'twas the other as told, so we treated 'em fair an'
alike. We stripped 'em an' laid in deep with the cat till
there wasn't no white skin left above the waist. Then
we sluiced 'em with sea water. When they could feel
pain again, we stretched 'em with rope an' windlass
till one died. T'other was a red-headed, tough young
devil, an' took such a deal of it that we had to brain him
with a handspike at the last."

Even the crew were silenced for a little by this re-
cital. Jeremy and Bob shivered in their places, hardly
daring to breath. Then a Portuguese spoke from the
corner, his greedy little black eyes glittering in his
swarthy face.

"Where wass da Cap'n's money — da gold 'e 'ada-not
divide', eh?"

Daggs gave a little start and leaned forward scowl-
ing. "Who said he had any*?" he asked savagely. "Sol
Brig kept himself to himself. He never told secrets
to any man aboard I" Then he turned and with a black
frown at the two boys, climbed through the hatch into
the howling smother outside.

83

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Jeremy, always alert, saw one or two glances ex-
changed among the pirates before the interminable
foul stream of fo'c's'le talk resumed its course, but ap-
parently the incident of the scarred man's abrupt de-
parture was soon forgotten.

As the storm continued, Bonnet and Herriot gave
up their attempts to sail the Royal James and con-
tented themselves with keeping her afloat. The gale
was driving them southward at a good rate and they
were not ungrateful as they reflected that it must have
effectually put a stop to all pursuit. Toward night the
wind went down a trifle, though the seas still ran in
veritable mountain ranges. The dawn of the following
day showed a clear sky to the north, and every pros-
pect of fair weather. Before breakfast all hands were
set to shaking out reefs and trimming sails, a task
which the tossing of the sloop made unusually difficult.
New halyards had to be fitted in some places. Other-
wise the vessel herself had suffered but little. The brig's
boat, towed astern all through the flight down the Bay,
had been swamped and cut loose on the first day of
storm. However, as the Royal James had two boats of
her own lashed on deck, this was not considered a real
loss.

When the sun was high enough, Herriot took his
bearings, and gave the helmsman orders to keep her
headed west, a point north. The sloop made a long beat

84

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

of it to starboard, thrashing up all night and most of
the following day, before she sighted the Virginia
Capes. Slipping through under cover of darkness, Bon-
net resumed his role of sober merchantman and sailed
the James up the Chesapeake under the British flag,
with a fine air of honesty.

Jeremy and Bob regained their spirits as the low
shores unrolled ahead and passed astern, with an occa-
sional glimpse of a plantation house or a village at the
water's edge. As every fresh estuary and arm of the
bay opened on the bow, the lads hoped and expected
that the sloop would enter. Bob thought the chances for
escape or rescue would be much increased if they came
to anchor in some harbor. Jeremy remembered the Cap-
tain's half-promise to free him when they reached the
Chesapeake, and although he would have been loth to
part from his new friend, he felt that he might render
him better service ashore than in his company aboard
the pirate.

It was two full days before the order was finally
given to anchor. They had put into the mouth of a wide
inlet far up on the Eastern shore, and Bonnet had her
brought into the wind at a good distance from either
side. The banks were high and wooded, and as far as
the boys could see there was no sign of habitation any-
where about. Their minds were both busy planning
some way of getting to land when Dave Herriot came

85

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

up behind them and put a huge hand into the collar
of each. "Come along below, lads," he said gruffly.
They went, completely mystified, until the big sailing-
master thrust them before him into the port gun deck.
Then Jeremy understood. The old-fashioned arrange-
ment of iron bars called the "bilboes" was fastened
to the bulkhead at the bow end of the alleyway. It
had two or three sets of iron shackles chained to it and
into the smallest pair of these, meant for the wrists of
a grown victim, he locked an ankle of each of the boys.
"Ye'll stay there awhile, till we sail again," Herriot
remarked as he departed. The lads stared at each
other, too glum to speak. Bob was pale with rage at
what he considered a dishonor, while the Yankee boy's
heart was heavy as he thought of the opportunities for
flight he had let slip on the voyage up the Bay. Within
half an hour after the anchor was dropped the young
prisoners heard the creak of the davit blocks, and a
moment later the splash of a boat taking water close
to the nearest gun-port. Jeremy stretched as far as his
chain would allow, and through a crevice saw four men
start to row toward shore. There was some coarse jest-
ing and laughter on deck, then one of the crew sent
a "Fare ye well. Bill!" after the departing gig. The
hail was answered by the voice of the Jamaican, Curley.
Half an hour later the boat returned, carrying only
three. Jeremy, straining at his tether, made out that

86

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Curley was not one of them. He sat down, thoughtful.
"Well, Bob," he said at last, "whether it's about your
ransom I can't say, but Bill Curley's been sent ashore
on some errand or other — and to be gone awhile, too,
I figure."

They could do little but wait for developments. It
was something of a surprise to both when Bonnet's
voice was heard on the deck above, soon after, ordering
the capstan manned. The anchor creaked up and to the
rattle of blocks the sail was hoisted. They felt the sloop
get under way once more. When one of the foremast
hands brought them some biscuit and pork for supper,
he told them it was Herriot's orders that they be left in
irons for the present at least, and added, in response to
Jeremy's query, that they were headed south under
full canvas. The* boys' thoughts were very bitter as
they tried to make themselves comfortable on the bare
planking. Fortunately, at their age it requires more
than a hard bed to banish rest, and before the ship had
made three sea-miles, care and bodily misery alike were
forgotten in the heavy slumber of fatigue.

87

CHAPTER XV

JOB Rowland's long legs, clad as they were in
nothing more cumbersome than a pair of under-
breeches, made light work of hills and ravines as
he held his way steadily up the Delaware shore. Like
most of the sailors of that day, he had gone barefoot
aboard ship since the beginning of the warm weather
and his soles were so calloused that he hardly felt the
need of shoes.

At a shack on a little cove, just before midday, he
found several fishermen, to whom he applied for cloth-
ing. They had pity on his plight, fitted him out with
a shirt, serviceable breeches and rough boots, and gave
him, as well, as much biscuit and dried fish as he wished
to carry. Thus reinforced he continued to put the
leagues behind him till night, when he slept under a
convenient jack-pine. Early next morning he pushed
on and came without further adventure to the little
port of New Castle, just as the sun was setting.

Job had been in the town before and now went
straight to the Red Hawk Tavern, a small place on the
water-front that catered chiefly to seafaring men. The
tavern-keeper, a brawny Swede, to whose blue eyes
half the seamen that plied along the coast were

88

© Harcourt, Brace and Cuidyuu,. . In,

AT A SHACK ON A LITTLE COVE HE FOUND
SEVERAL FISHERMEN

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

familiar, held out a big hand to him as he entered.
He had known the tall mariner when he had been on
the Virginia bark before Hornygold had captured it
and had had no news of him since. Job told him his
whole story over a hot meal in the back room, and it
is merely indicative of the public mind of that day
that the big Swede had not the slightest compunction
in sympathizing with him. Indeed, in most dockside
resorts it was a common thing for pirates and honest
seamen to fraternize with perfect good-will. The inn-
keeper offered him a bed for the night, and next morn-
ing directed him to the governor's house.

Delaware, a far smaller and less developed colony
than her neighbors, Pennsylvania and Maryland, had,
nevertheless, her own government, located at New
Castle. The brick house of the King's appointee was on
the High Street — the most imposing building in the
town, excepting the two churches. Job knocked at the
door and was admitted by a colored servant in livery,
who gave him a chair in the wide hall and asked him
to wait there.

As the long Yankee fidgeted uncomfortably on the
edge of his seat, he heard voices raised in a room op-
posite, the door of which was closed. Some one, appar-
ently growing angry, was saying :

"Good Gad, man, are we to sit idle and let these
ruffianly thieves make off with our money — children —

89

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

wives I One good man-o'-war could teach the scamps
such a lesson as would scare half of 'em off the seas I
Why, if I'd had even a good culverin aboard the l72dm?2
Queen last night, I'd have chased the beggars clear to
Africa, an need were. Governor, you must see this as

we see iti"

There was a reply in a lower tone and a moment
later the door opened for two gentlemen to come out.
One was thin and pale and seemed a suave, cool fellow,
Job thought. He was elegantly dressed in gray. His
companion, larger and more strongly built, seemed to
have become very red in the face from suppressed emo-
tion. His linen ruffles were awry and his fists clenched
as he emerged. Without looking at Job, he jammed his
cocked hat upon his head and strode out.

The man in gray turned to the waiting seaman and
beckoned him into the room just vacated. Job, as cool
and self-possessed as if he were loading his six-pounder
under fire, told the story of his experiences aboard the
pirate sloop, finishing with an account of the attempted
flight with Jeremy, their recapture and his escape. The
Governor listened gravely, starting once when the
mariner named Captain Bonnet. At the end he nodded.
"You shall have the pardon as ruled by the Crown,"
he said. "But there is another side to this affair. You
say you slept at the Red Hawk. Was there no talk
there of a boy stolen from the wharves late in the eve-

90

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

nlng*?" Job replied that he had gone to Sed early
and had breakfasted and left without hearing any
gossip.

"From what you say," went on the Governor, "I
should be ready to swear that the Captain Thomas,
who proclaimed himself by that name in a tavern last
night and later made off with the son of Clarke Curtis,
was the same man as your Stede Bonnet." Job hastened
to relate the incident of the buccaneer's crazed speech
from the brig's deck. He asked how the kidnapper had
been described. The features tallied almost exactly
with those of Stede Bonnet. In addition, the schooner,
as half a dozen men would swear, had been painted
black.

Thus satisfied that Bob Curtis was aboard the Royal
James, the Governor wrote a formal pardon, stating
that "Job Howland, late a pirate, having duly sworn
his allegiance to his Majesty the King, and repented of
all unlawful acts committed by him aforetime," was
henceforward granted full release from the penalty of
his crimes and was to be held an honest man during his
good behavior. Then he took the seaman with him
and passed quickly down to one of the larger ware-
houses by the dockside.

Standing in the doorway were the red-faced gentle-
man whom Job had seen that morning and a large
man in sea boots, easily recognized as a ship's officer.

91

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

To the rather cool greeting of the former the Governor
returned a cheerful nod as they came up. "Look here
now, Curtis," he said, 'T can't spare those cannon, and
that's flat, but to show that I mean well by you, Tve
brought a man whom you may find of some use. Tell
him your story, Howland."

The tale was repeated, to the intense interest of its
two new hearers. "By Gad," cried Mr. Curtis, slapping
his thigh, as the seaman finished, "that's a clue worth
having I We know who the scoundrel is, at least, and,
of course, he'll be sure to head for Carolina. Bonnet
couldn't keep away from that coast for more than six
months if his life depended upon it. Howland, if you
care to ship again, TU make you gun-pointer aboard the
Indian Queen here. You say you want nothing better
than to get a crack at the pirate. We'll make what
preparations we can and get off at once. This young
friend of yours — about Bob's age he must be — well,
Tm glad my boy's got company! Let's get to work
aboard here now."

Job fell to with a good will helping the Indian
Queen s crew get her ready for an encounter with the
pirates. She carried only two light serpentine cannon
of an ancient make, far below the standard necessary
to combat a well-armed schooner like the Royal James.
There were no other ships in the harbor carrying guns,
however, and it was over the matter of procuring an

92

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

armament that Curtis had had words with the Gov-
ernor. There were six good culverins mounted in the
fort below the town. The planter had wished to borrow
them to fit out his vessel, urging that it was a matter
of concern to the whole colony. To this the Governor
replied that with the port stripped of defences it would
be possible for a pirate fleet to enter and plunder with-
out difficulty, while Curtis's ship was careering over
the seven seas on a wild-goose chase. Naturally the
personal element in the affair blinded Curtis to the
truth in this argument. However, with the advent of
Job Howland and the news he bore, all differences
were forgotten. The planter and ship-owner now
needed thorough, rather than hurried, preparation.
He sent his overseer on horseback to Philadelphia to
arrange for the purchase of guns, and put all the avail-
able carpenters and shipwrights to work on the Queen^
strengthening the improvised gun decks and cutting the
rows of ports.

The northeast gale that sprang up next day put a
temporary stop to these activities and gave Job an op-
portunity to get himself some decent clothes and hob-
nob awhile with his friend the Swede. The whole
waterfront was agog with the news of the kidnapping,
and everywhere the tall New Englander went he was
surrounded by a knot of questioning seamen. Several
coasting-skippers, whose vessels lay ready-loaded at

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the wharves, decided to put off sailing until some news
should indicate that the Bay was clear.

When the storm had blown itself out the artisans
again set to work on the big East Indiaman. Job, who
had learned the science of gunnery under good masters,
supervised the placing of every porthole with reference
to ease and safety in firing as well as to the effective-
ness of a broadside. He had a section of the deck for-
ward of the capstan reinforced stoutly to bear the
weight of a bow-chaser, on which he placed some de-
pendence in case of a running fight.

It was about six days later, in the first week of
August, when two men came into New Castle from
different directions, one on horseback, the other on foot.
The first of these was Curtis's overseer, returned from
the larger colony up the Bay, and bringing the good
news that a score of cannon were lying on the dock
at the foot of Market Street, in Philadelphia, ready
to be shipped aboard the Queen as soon as she was put
in shape.

The other was a sour-looking man of middle height,
lean and darkly sallow, dressed in good sea clothes
somewhat worn. He slipped through the trees into a
lane that led toward the wharves. Coming unob-
trusively into the Red Hawk Tavern at a little after
7 o'clock in the evening, he asked for a pint of rum,
paid for it, and began to talk politely to the Swede.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Job was eating his supper in one corner. He started
when the man entered, but made no exclamation, and
shading his face from the light, continued to watch
him narrowly. It was his old shipmate, Bill Curley, the
Jamaican. The pirate finished his rum and giving the
barkeep a civil "Good-night," passed out into the ill-
lighted street. When he was gone Job rose and stepped
to the bar. "Quick, Nels," he whispered, "what did he
ask you'? He's one of Bonnet's crew I" The Swede re-
plied that he had inquired the way to Clarke Curtis's
house. Job was armed with a good pistol. He made
sure it was primed and then set out up the street, keep-
ing a careful lookout.

Soon he detected the figure of the Jamaican in the
gloom ahead, and followed it, keeping out of earshot.
The man went straight up High Street to the town
residence of the planter. There were tall shrubs in the
yard and he waited behind one of these, apparently
reconnoitering. Then he stooped, took off his shoes, and
carrying them in one hand, advanced and pinned a
piece of paper to the door. Turning, he made his way
back to the gate and once on the soft earth of the road,
started to run in the direction from which he had
come. This brought him, in fifty yards, face to face
with a pistol muzzle, the butt of which was held by his
old friend. Job Howland. He stopped in his tracks
and at the big Yankee's command held both arms above

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

his head. Job jammed the nose of his weapon against
Curley's breastbone and searched him without a word.
Having removed a long dirk and a pistol from the
Jamaican's waistband, he ordered him to face about
and walk back to the planter's house. When they ar-
rived there, Job took down the paper from the door
and knocked loudly. A negro boy, scared almost into
fits at the sight of the drawn pistol, led the way into
his master's room.

Curtis rose with an ejaculation of surprise and heard
Job's brief account of the events leading to Curley's
capture. Then he took the paper and read it, alternately
frowning and exclaiming. As he finished, he passed
it to the New Englander. It was a letter neatly drawn
up and written in Stede Bonnet's even, refined hand.

Aboard Sloop Royal James^ now
in an Inlet near the Head of the
Chesapeake Bay.
To Mr. Clarke Curtis, Esq.

of New Castle, in the Delaware Colony.
Sir:

Having now aboard us and in safe custody your son Robert
Curtis, we offer you the following terms for his release and safe
return to you. Namely, to wit :

First, that you shall make no attempt to attack us in an armed
vessel, or otherwise to employ force upon us.

Second, that you shall send a single man, carrying or other-
wise bringing, provided he is alone, a sum in gold amounting to
5,000 pounds sterling.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Third, that this man shall be on the sandbars at the entrance
to the Cape Fear River in Carolina at noon on the loth day of
September in this year of grace 1718, ready to deliver the sum
before-mentioned and to take in charge the boy, also before-
mentioned.

Failing the accomplishment of any or all of these terms the
boy will be immediately put to death without stay or pity.

Expecting you to act with discretion and for the welfare of
your son,

Ever your humble servant.

Captain Thomas.
(Ship Royal James)

"Well," remarked Job as he finished, "we know-
where they'll be on September the lOth, at all events.
As for our friend here, we can safely turn him over
to the constable, I reckon. Here, Curley — march I" And
he ushered the Jamaican out as they had entered. The
gaol was only a few doors down a cross street, and Job
had soon delivered his prisoner into capable hands.
Then he returned to Curtis's house.

The shipowner was pacing up and down his library,
where the paper lay half-crumpled on the floor. He
looked up as Job entered and his brow was wrinkled
deep with lines of worry.

"Gad I" he exclaimed, "this is awful. Must we
actually give up trying to punish the dog'? Why, he
has us at his mercy, it seems. The money I can raise,
I believe, and it's not the thought of losing it that cuts
me. It's letting that gallows-hound go unscathed. And

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

if anything should slip in the plans — good God, it's
too terrible to think of I"

He dropped into an armchair, his head resting in
his hands. Job understood something of the father's
anguish and refrained from any comment. Standing
by the broad oak mantelpiece, he mused over the
chances of the boy's escape alive. Knowing Bonnet's
eccentricities, he would have been the last to urge an
armed attack in defiance of the terms in the letter. He
had not the slightest doubt that the Captain, half-
insane as he was, would be capable of even more das-
tardly crimes than the one he now threatened. Grad-
ually an idea took form in the ex-pirate's brain. It was
a bold one and needed to be executed boldly if at all.
When the grief-stricken gentleman raised his head.
Job turned and faced him. "Mr. Curtis," he said,
"there's one thing to be done, as far's I can see, and I
believe it's for me to do it. I've told you about Jeremy
Swan, the boy we took aboard up north along. I think
most as much o' getting him out o' this scrape as you
do o' savin' your lad. Now here's my scheme. I know
that coast around Cape Fear like I know the black
schooner's deck. I'll get down there about the first o'
September, an' I reckon they'll be there near the same
time. I'll sneak up as close as I can in a small bo'at,
then crawl acrost the bars till I'm near their moorin',
an' swim out after dark, so I can look over the lay o'

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

things aboard. It's just possible that I can get a word
to one o' the boys and maybe take 'em off without bein'
caught. You can be lyin' to, somewhere out o' sight,
and if we get clean away, we'll take the Queen around
an' blow Bonnet out o' water. That's the best I can
offer, but if it works it'll do the job up brown."

Curtis had listened earnestly, amazed at the daring
of the man's suggestion. He reached out a broad hand
and took Job's hairy fist in a grip that expressed the
depth of his feelings. They talked far into the night,
planning the details of the attempt and discussing
measures to be employed should it fail. They still had
the best part of a month in which to work.

It was Job's suggestion that they should interest
the governments of North and South Carolina to help
in destroying Bonnet's craft. The pirate's port of de-
parture had been Charles Town and he was to be
fought in waters adjacent to both the colonies. It
seemed not unreasonable to hope that there was aid
to be obtained there. Next day they asked the Gover-
nor's sanction to this proposal, and were so far re-
warded that in less than another twenty-four hours
a messenger had been dispatched to Wilmington and
Charles Town bearing letters under the colony seal.
Cc06^O7

99

np'

CHAPTER XVI

y WN^HE Royal James hurried down the Chesapeake
for a day and a night before Captain Bonnet
gave orders to free the young prisoners below
in the bilboes. Jeremy and Bob came on deck stiff and
weary from their cramped quarters and very far from
happy in their minds. Rescue seemed farther away
than ever, and though they had laid many plans for
an escape by swimming, the sight of the great stretch
of water off either beam — the shore was frequently a
dozen miles away — quenched their hopes in this di-
rection.

The crew seemed quite elated over something, and
talked and joked incessantly about the prospect of
action in the near future. Bonnet was merrier than
Jeremy had ever seen him, came often on deck and
even mixed a little in the conversation of the fore-
mast hands. On the night that they cleared the Capes
he served out double noggins of rum to all the men
aboard. There was a good deal of prodigality in the
way it was poured out and a fine scene of carousal
ensued, lasting until after the watch changed at mid-
night. It was the first time either of the boys had heard
the smashing chorus of "Fifteen Men" sung by the

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

whole fo'c's'le. Of course, the words had often been
hummed by one or two of the pirates, but it took the
hot cheer of the grog to open most of their throats. At
the final "Yo, ho, hoi" every cannikin crashed on the
deal table and the lantern heaved to and fro overhead
as if a gale were blowing outside. There followed the
howling refrain that Jeremy had heard on the beach
of the island a month before — "An' we'll walk the
bloody beggars all below, all below — an' we'll walk
the bloody beggars all below I"

The sentiment seemed too true to be picturesque
after what had happened aboard the brig. The fierce-
faced buccaneers, with their red, drunken eyes, strained
forward, every man, and yelled like demons under the
swaying lantern. Close behind and above were the
smoky beams and planking, black with dancing shad-
ows. Yet wild and exciting as it all was, Jeremy felt
sickened. There was no illusion, no play-acting about
it for him. He had seen the awful reality — the murder
and the madness — and he had no admiration left for
the jolly buccaneer of story.

On the following morning, and for two days there-
after, the schooner cruised slowly along a level sea
under shortened sail. A double lookout was kept con-
stantly on duty and as they bore up to the northward,
Jeremy saw that they must be watching for south-
bound shipping out of the Delaware. Bonnet was evi-

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

dently gambling on the chance that Bob's friends had
given up the idea of pursuit.

Then one hot mid-afternoon the two boys were star-
tled from their places in the shade of the after-compan-
ion by a quick shout from the man at the masthead.
They followed the direction of his pointing arm with
their eyes and as the schooner heaved slowly on a gen-
tle swell, they caught a glimpse of a low, broad sail
on the port bow. The men were all on deck ready to
trim the sails for greater speed, but Herriot, after con-
sulting with the Captain, ordered the gunners and gun-
servers below to prepare ordnance. Bob and Jeremy
were under a tremendous strain of excitement. The
stranger ship might be one of the New Castle fleet
which Bob firmly believed to be searching the seas to
recapture him from Bonnet. Should it prove to be so,
their lives were in worse danger than ever, for neither
of the boys doubted that the erratic Captain would
kill them at once if the fight went against him.

However, their minds were soon set at rest on this
score. As the pirate drew up closer and closer, the de-
tails of the other ship became visible to those on deck.
She also was schooner-rigged, a trifle larger than the
Royal James, but without the latter's height of mast.
Her low free-board indicated that she was heavily
cargoed. No gunports could be seen along her sides.

Bonnet now ordered an extra jib to be broken out,

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

and had the sloop brought around on the port tack so
that her course, instead of running opposite to the
stranger's, would obliquely cross it. The wind, what
little there was, came from the West.

As soon as the other ship perceived this change in
direction, she veered off her course closer to the wind,
and almost immediately the boys could see the white
flutter of some extra canvas being spread at her bows.
As this new piece filled out, it proved to be a great
balloon jib, which increased her sail area by nearly
half. Her head came off the wind again and she went
bowing along over the swells to the southward faster
than one would have imagined possible. Bonnet had
figured on crossing her at close range, but as she swept
onward he realized that he would go by too far astern
to hail her if he kept his present direction. Herriot him-
self took the tiller. As quickly as he could, without loss
of headway, he eased the Royal James over till she
was running nearly parallel with the fleeing ship. His
orders came quick and fast, while the men trimmed the
main and fore sheets to the last hair's breadth of per-
fection. It was to be a race, and a hard one.

For nearly half an hour the sloops ran along almost
neck and neck and perhaps half a mile apart. The
pirates dared not risk pointing closer to the wind in
order to get into cannon range. They would have lost
so much speed that it would have developed into a

103

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

stern chase — useless since they possessed only broad-
side batteries. The best they could do was to hold their
position, hoping for luck in the wind.

Bonnet scowled awhile at the British Jack that still
flew from the James's top, then went below and
brought up the black pirate flag. The buccaneers, now
all assembled on deck, gave it a cheerful howl of greet-
ing as it fluttered up to the main truck. "Now we'll
catch 'em, lads I" roared Herriot, and they answered
him with a second cheer.

For once, however, the Jolly Roger seemed to bring
bad fortune instead of good. The wind had hardly
swept it easily to leeward once when it fell back against
the shrouds, hardly stirring. The pirate sloop's deck
righted slowly and her limp sails drooped from the
gaffs. A sudden flaw in the breeze had settled about
her, without interrupting her rival's progress in the
least. A glum despair came over the crew. They lolled,
for the most part silent or grumbling curses, against
the rails, with here and there one trying to whistle up
a wind. The other sloop rapidly drew away to the
south.

Bonnet had been talking to Herriot with quick ges-
tures and pointings. Now he walked forward swiftly
and the men got to their feet with a jump. "We'll board
the prize yet," said the Captain short and sharp. "Now
look alive — every one of you I" He ordered one squad

104

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

of men to the hold for spars, another for rope, a third
for a spare main jib. Meanwhile he set two men to mak-
ing a sort of stirrup out of blocks of wood. This was
fastened to the deck far up in the bows. When the
spars came up he had one of them rigged with a tackle
running to the foremast, and set its foot in the wooden
contrivance just finished. It swung out forward like a
great jibboom. The crew saw what was in the Captain's
mind and gave a ringing yell of joy. A score of willing
hands made fast the stays to windward and others
spread the spare sail from the upper end of the spar.
As the last rope was bent, a strong draught of air came
over the water. The canvas shook, then filled, and as
the fresh breeze steadied in her sails the sloop heeled
far to port. She moved faster and faster, while the
white water surged away under her lee. This was sail-
ing worth while I The returning wind had come in much
stronger than before the jflaw, and was now almost
worthy of at least one reef under ordinary condi-
tions. With her extra canvas, the James was canted
over perilously. Her lee scuppers were often awash
and a good deal of water was coming into the port
gundeck.

But to the delight of all on board, including the
boys, who could hardly be blamed for relishing the ex-
citement. Bonnet refused to take in an inch of sail. In-
stead, he ordered every available man to the weather

105

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

rail. The dead weight of thirty seamen all leaning half-
way over the side served to keep the light craft bal-
lasted for the time being. Bob and Jeremy clung to the
rail amidships and vied with each other in stretching
out over the boiling seas that raced below.

The fleeing ship, which had gained four or five miles
during the lull, was now in plain view again, nearly
straight ahead. Her deep lading was telling against her
now. The handicap of sail area being overcome, the
black pirate's shallow draft and long lines gave her
the advantage. Every buccaneer in the crew was howl-
ing with excitement as the race went on. The long
main boom of the Royal James skipped through the
spray and her mainsail was wet to the second line of
reef points, but Herriot held her square on the course
and Bonnet smiled grimly ahead, with a look that
meant he would run her under before he would shorten
sail. Hand over hand they overhauled their rival, until
once more the tiny figures of men were visible over
her rail. A little knot of them were gathered aft, busy
at something. Bonnet seized his glass and scrutinized
them intently. Then he yelled to Herriot to ease the
sloop off to port. "They've got a gun astern there I" he
shouted. "They'll try our range in a minute." Hardly
had he spoken when a spout of foam went up from the
sea far to starboard, followed almost instantly by the
dull sound of an explosion. By the time the gunners

106

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

on the ship had loaded their piece again the James had
come over to their port quarter and they had to shift
the cannon's position. The shot went close overhead,
cutting a corner from the black flag of the pirate. Bon-
net swore beneath his breath, then ordered the cannon-
eers below to their batteries. They went on the run.
Jeremy and Bob stayed above watching the operations
on the enemy's deck. The two sloops were less than
three hundred yards apart and the James had drawn
nearly abeam when a third shot came from her rival's
deck gun. This time it crashed into the pirate's hull far
up by the bits. Bonnet was by the fore hatch, sword in
hand, as was his custom during an action. Looking
coolly at the splintered bulwark forward, then back at
the enemy, he gave the sharp "Ready a starboard broad-
side I" to the waiting gunners. He allowed them time
to have their matches alight, then "Fire I" rang his clear
voice. The deck leaped under the boys' feet. The long,
thunderous bellow of the battery jarred out over the
sea. Even as they looked the enemy's maingaff, shot
away at the jaws, dangled loose from the peak hal-
yards, and her broad sail crumpled, puffing out awk-
wardly in the breeze.

At the same time a wide rent in her side above the
waterline gaped black as she topped a wave. The gun-
ners' cheer as they saw their handiwork rose to a deaf-
ening yell, taken up by all hands, when, a moment

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

later, the British colors came fluttering down aboard
the other ship.

Herriot ordered the improvised spinnaker and the
flying-jib taken in, then brought the buccaneer sloop
around and came up beside the newly captured prize.
All the pirates were behind the bulwarks with muskets
loaded, prepared for any treachery that might be in-
tended. However, as they ranged alongside, the hostile
crew lined upon their deck, sullen but unarmed, and
the Captain, a big, gray-bearded man, held up a piece
of white cloth in token of surrender. Bonnet hailed him,
asking his name.

"Captain Peter Mane waring of the sloop Francis,
Philadelphia for Charles Town," answered the coast-
ing skipper.

"And I am Captain Thomas, in command of the
sloop Royal James," Bonnet gave him in return. "You
will set your men to carrying over into my ship all the
powder you have aboard. As soon as we are fast along-
side I shall be pleased to entertain you in the cabin."

The sails were run down on both sloops and their
hulls were quickly lashed together with ropes. Herriot
superintended the operation of transferring a half-
dozen kegs of powder, some casks of wine and the best
food in the coaster's larder to the hold of the black
schooner. The cargo of the Francis was a varied one,
but not by any means a poor prize. She carried some

108

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

grain in bags forward, a great number of bolts of cloth,
chiefly woollens, and other things of divers sorts, in-
cluding some fine mahogany chairs and tables newly
brought from England. The wine was merely inci-
dental, but proved very acceptable to the ever-thirsty
buccaneers.

That night, with the nine men of the Francis's crew
lying in irons on the ballast, they drank deep to their
victory, and once more Jeremy and Bob fell asleep to
the rough half-harmony of their bellowings.

109

CHAPTER XVII

A STIFF easterly breeze whitened the gray seas
next morning. It was cloudy and seemed to be
getting ready for a blow. The pirate and her
prize had drifted all night, bound together, and as day
broke a tipsy lookout spied land to the westward. Her-
riot came on deck hastily at the call and himself went
to the rail to heave the lead. The soundings showed a
bare four fathoms of water. Bonnet was summoned and
the crew, hardly recovered from their orgy, staggered
about the deck preparing to get under way again.
Seven men, under Dunkin, were told off to man the
Francis. A dozen others were needed to plug her shot-
holes before she was really seaworthy. This task being
finally accomplished, the ropes were taken off, the sails
run up and the two sloops, closehauled to starboard,
set about beating off shore.

It was a terrible day for Jeremy and Bob. In the
crew there was the regular fighting and swearing that
always followed a night of carousal. The fact that
they were short-handed made the work harder and
the grumbling louder than ever. The bow of the
Royal James was partly shot away above the bits, and
there was a full day's work for every hand that could

110

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

be spared rigging canvas over the gap to prevent its
taking in water in case of a storm. Meanwhile the
fo'c's'le was in as filthy a state as could well be imag-
ined. Herriot thrust his head down the hatch once dur-
ing the morning and as he caught the sickening stench
of the place he called the two boys, who had been up
forward helping the patching.

"Here, young 'uns, get below and clean up," he or-
dered sharply, and handed each lad a bucket and a
deck-brush. They filled the buckets and went below
reluctantly. At first it was impossible for them to stay
under hatches for more than five minutes at a time, so
they took turns in running up for air and a fresh supply
of water. Gradually the flooding they gave the place
told in its atmosphere, and by noon they had put it
into decent shape again. Hardly had Jeremy come on
deck, weary and sickened with this task, when Captain
Bonnet called to him from the companion. He made
his way aft and entered the cabin. Bonnet had just
resumed his place at the broad table. Opposite him
and facing Jeremy was the big slouched figure of Cap-
tain Manewaring. "Bring the wine, Jeremy," said the
buccaneer quietly, and without turning. He was look-
ing with steady eyes at his guest. Jeremy went back
along the passage to the wine-locker under the com-
panion stairs and took from it two bottles of Madeira.
As he was closing the cupboard door, Bonnet's voice

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

cut the air like a knife. The two words he spoke were
not loud, but pronounced with a terrible distinctness.
''You lie I" was what he said.

Jeremy shivered and waited, listening. There was
no reply loud enough for him to hear through the closed
door of the cabin. After a moment he tiptoed back and
before turning the knob listened again. Nothing but
silence. He opened the door with a pounding heart and
stepped into the room.

The two men sat motionless in their places. Bonnet
held a cocked pistol in his right hand, its point cover-
ing the other man's head. On the table before Mane-
waring was a second pistol. His face was drawn and
gray and a fine sweat stood upon his forehead. Jeremy
shrank against the wall, hardly breathing, his two bot-
tles clutched idiotically, one in each hand. The tense
seconds ticked on by the cabin clock.

"Come — quick I" said the pirate, with a gesture to-
ward the other pistol. Manewaring's hand appeared
over the edge of the table and gave a trembling jerk
toward the pistol-butt. Then it fell back into his lap.
He gasped. A drop of sweat ran down his temple into
his gray beard. Again the only sounds were the tick of
the cabin clock, the wash of the seas outside and the
hoarse breathing of the cornered man. At length he
moved with a sort of shudder, whispered the name of
his Maker and seized the butt of the pistol desperately.

112

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X
h

w

X
h

h

O
O

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Bonnet had raised his weapon, pointing to the ceil-
ing. "I shall count three, then fire," said he in the same
even voice.

"One — " But before he spoke again his opponent
had jerked his muzzle down and fired. Bonnet must
have seen the flash of the intention in his eyes, for
he threw himself to the left at that instant, and the
shot went crashing through a panel of the door. With
the deliberate sureness of Fate the pirate took aim at
his adversary, who whimpered and grovelled behind
the table. Then he shot him. Jeremy's knees went limp,
but he saved himself from falling and managed to set
the bottles on the table.

Behind him as he staggered out, Stede Bonnet
poured himself a glass of wine and drank it with a
steady hand. The boy met a crowd of men at the head
of the companion, but was too shaken to tell them what
had happened. Herriot, going below, heard the details
of the duel from the Captain's own lips. Under the
sailing-master's orders the body of the dead man was
carried out on deck, sewed into a piece of sailcloth and
heaved over the rail without more ado. Jeremy made
his way to his bunk and told Bob the story between
chattering teeth.

There was silence on the ship that afternoon. Bon-
net's action had sobered his rough company to the point
where they ceased quarreling and talked in undertones,

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

gathering in little knots about the slanted deck when
not at work. The two boys were glad enough to be out
of the way. Jeremy, tired and discouraged, sat on the
bunk's edge, his shoulders hunched and his eyes on the
floor. His young companion, who had more cause for
hope, watched him with sympathetic eyes. He could
see that the New England boy was too dejected even
to try to plan their escape — the usual occupation of
their hours together. Finally he reached over, a bit
shyly, and gave him a friendly pat on the back.

"Brace up, Jeremy," he said. "You're clean tuckered
out, but a rest and a nap'll help. Here, cover yourself
up and ril do your work tonight. Maybe I'll have a
scheme thought up to tell you in the morning."

Jeremy cared little whether he slept or woke, for the
events of the past days, coupled with the disappoint-
ment of not being set ashore as he had hoped, had
brought even his determined courage to a low ebb. He
was on the verge of a fever, and Bob's prescription of
rest and sleep was what he most needed. Made snug at
the back side of the berth, where little or no light came,
he fell into a fitful slumber. Bob took a last look to
see that his friend was comfortable and went on deck.

Pharaoh Daggs had taken a great deal of liquor the
night before, as was his wont when grog was being
passed. The rum he consumed seemed to aifect him
very little. No one ever heard him sing, though his

114

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

cruel face, with its awful, livid scar, would lean for-
ward and sway to and fro with the rhythm of the cho-
ruses. He could walk a reeling deck or climb a slack
shroud as well, to all appearances, when he had taken
a gallon as most men when they were sober. From New-
foundland to Trinidad he was known among the pi-
rates as a man whose head would stand drink like a
sheet-iron bucket. This reputation was made possible
by the fact that he was no talker at any time, and when in
liquor clamped his jaws like a sprung trap. Whatever
effect the alcohol may have had upon his mind was not
apparent because no thoughts passed his lips. The rum
did go to his head, however. The instinctive effort of
will that kept his legs steady and his mouth shut had
no root in thought. Behind the veil of those light eyes,
the brain of Pharaoh Daggs, drunk, was like a seething
pit, one black fuddle of ugliness. To compensate for
the apparent lack of effect of liquor upon him, the in-
ward disturbance usually lasted long after the more
tipsy seamen had slept around to clear heads.

Today he lolled with his sneering face toward the
weather beam, a figure upon whose privacy no one
would care to trespass. The sound of the shots and the
tale of the duel had neither one awakened in him any
apparent interest. Through the long afternoon till
nearly five o'clock he slouched by the fo'c's'le. Then
with a leisurely stretch he walked to the hatch, and

115

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

peered down it. Wheeling about he scanned the deck
craftily, looking at all the men in turn, before he de-
scended the ladder.

In the half-light below he paused again, and seemed
to send his piercing glance into every bunk, from the
forward to the after bulkhead. Finally, satisfied that
no one else was in the fo'c's'le, he went to his own
sleeping place, on the port side, and kneeling beside
the berth hauled a heavy sea-chest from beneath it.

Jeremy's light sleep was broken by a scraping sound
close by. He opened his eyes without moving, and from
where he lay could see a man busy at something oppo-
site him. As the figure turned and straightened, he knew
it for the man with the broken nose. The boy was in-
stantly on the alert, for he had every reason to distrust
Daggs. Without making a sound he worked nearer to
the edge of the bunk and pulled the cover up to hide
all but his eyes. The pirate hauled his chest out farther
into the middle of the floor, where more light fell.

Then he knelt before it and unlocked it with a key
which he took from about his neck. Jeremy almost ex-
pected to see a heap of gold coin as the lid was raised.
He was disappointed. A garment of dark cloth, prob-
ably a cloak, and some dirty linen were all that came
to view. The buccaneer lifted out a number of articles
of seaman's gear and laid them beside him. After them
came a leather pouch, quite heavy, Jeremy thought.

116

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

The man raised it carefully and weighed it in his hand.
It must have been his portion of the spoils taken on the
voyage. However, this was not what he was after, it
seemed, for a moment later it was laid on the floor be-
side the other things. Next he removed two pistols and
a second pouch of the sort used for powder and shot.
There was a long interval as he rummaged in the bot-
tom of the box, under other contents which Jeremy
could not see. At last the pirate stood up, holding a
rolled paper tied with string. Another long moment he
peered about him and listened. When he had reassured
himself, he untied the string and opened the paper, a
square document, perhaps a foot each way. It was dis-
colored and worn at the edges, apparently quite old.
What was inscribed on it Jeremy could not see, stare
as he might. Daggs examined it a moment, then knelt,
preoccupied, and spread it upon the floor. With one fin-
ger he traced a line along it, zigzagging from one side
diagonally to the foot, his lips moving silently mean-
while. Then his other hand hovered above the docu-
ment for a time before he planted his thumb squarely
upon a spot near the top.

Jeremy's thoughts kept time with his racing heart.
He watched every motion of the buccaneer with a fierce
intentness that missed no detail. Daggs had been quiet
for a full two minutes, a crafty gloating smile playing
over his thin lips. Now once more he touched a place

117

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

upon the sheet before him. "Right there, she'll be," he
muttered. Then, after slowly rolling up the paper, he
replaced it and locked the box. The eyes of the boy in
the bunk gleamed excitedly, for he was sure now of
the nature of the document. Beyond any reasonable
doubt, it was a chart. "Solomon Brig's treasure I" he
whispered to himself as the tall figure of the man with
the broken nose clambered upward through the hatch.

118

CHAPTER XVIII

JEREMY realized that his life would be in danger if
Daggs saw him coming on deck after what had
just happened. He lay still, therefore, in spite of
his desire to tell Bob what he had seen. The rest of the
afternoon his imagination painted pictures of iron-
bound chests half-buried in the yellow beach sand of
some lonely island far down in the tropics; gloomy
caves beneath mysteriously waving palm trees — caves
whose black depths shot forth a ruddy gleam of gold
coin, when a chance ray of light came through the
shade; of shattered hulks that lay ten fathoms down
in the clear green water of some still lagoon, where
pure white coral beds gave back the sleeping sunshine,
and fishes of all bright colors he had ever seen or
dreamed about swam through the ancient ports to stare
goggle-eyed at heaps of glistening gems.

At last he must have slept, for Bob's voice in his ear
brought him back to the dingy fo'c's'le of the Royal
James with a start. The lantern was lit and most of the
port watch were snoring heavily in their bunks after a
hard day's work. Bob took off his shoes and trousers and
climbed into the narrow berth beside his friend, who
was now wide awake. "Listen, Bob," whispered the

119

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

New England boy as soon as they were settled, "do you
remember the things Daggs has said, off and on, about
old Sol Brig — how there was always a lot of gold that
the men before the mast never saw and how he must
have saved it till he was the richest of all the pirates^
Well, who would know what became of that money, if
anybody did? Daggs, of course, the only man that's
left of Brig's crew I I think Daggs knows, and what's
more, I believe I saw the very chart that shows where
it is." He went on to tell all he had seen that after-
noon. Bob was as excited as he when he had finished.
"We must try to get hold of that map or else get a
sight of it I" he exclaimed. Jeremy was doubtful of the
possibility of this. "You see," he said, "the key is on
a string 'round his neck. The only way would be to
break the chest open. It's big and heavy and we should
raise the whole ship with the racket. Then, besides, I
don't like to steal the thing, even though he is a pirate."
Bob also felt that it would hardly be honest to break
into a man's box, no matter what his character might
be. "If we should just happen to see the chart, though,"
he finally explained, "why, we have just as much right
to hunt for the treasure as he has, or any one else."
Jeremy agreed to this solution of a knotty problem of
honor and both boys decided that for the present they
had no course in the matter but to wait for some acci-
dent to put the paper in their way. However, not to let

120

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

any opportunities slip, they resolved to watch Pharaoh
Daggs constantly while he was awake, in the hope of
getting a second glimpse of the treasured document.

Jeremy had regained both strength and spirits when
he tumbled out next morning. The pall of uneasiness
which had hung over the ship all the day before had
lifted and the men, sobered once more, went about
their business as usual. The boys set themselves to the
task of watching with much zeal. It was not so difficult
as might be expected. They had always been aware of
the presence of the man with the broken nose whenever
he was on deck. His sinister eye was too unpleasant to
meet without a shiver. Likewise they felt an instinctive
relief when he went out of sight. For this reason it was
no great matter for either lad that happened to be pres-
ent to note the fact of the pirate's going below. When-
ever he left the dcek for anything he was shadowed by
Bob or Jeremy as the case might be. For nearly three
days the mysterious chest remained untouched. Of that
the boys were sure.

The threatened storm that had roughened the sea on
the day when Captain Manewaring met his sudden end
seemed to have spent itself in racing clouds and gusts
of wind. Fair weather followed and for forty-eight
hours the James and her prize stood off the coast, head-
ing up to the northeastward with the wind on the port
quarter.

121

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Bonnet had remained below, haggard and brooding,
suffering from one of the spells of reaction that com-
monly followed his misdeeds. By night of the second
day he cast off his gloom and came on deck, the old
reckless light in his eye.

"Here, Herriot," he called, as he appeared, "we've
got a rich prize in our fist and a richer one coming. Let's
be gay dogs all tonight. Give the hands extra grog and
I'll see you in the cabin over a square bottle when the
watch is changed."

Before the mast the news was hailed with delighted
cheering. A keg of rum was rolled out of the hold and
set on the fo'c's'le table. Hardly had darkness settled
before half the men aboard were drunk and the canni-
kins came back to the spigot in an unending procession.
There was too much liquor available for the usual cho-
ruses to be sung. Most of the pirates swilled it like pigs
and stopped for nothing till they could move no longer,
but lay helpless where they happened to fall. Only a
bare three men stayed sober enough to sail the ship.
Jeremy thanked his stars for fair weather when he
thought of the case they might have been in had the
orgy occurred in a night of storm.

Next day a few of the crew woke at breakfast time.
The rest snored out their drunken sleep below. Daggs
came on deck as usual, to the outward eye quite his
careless, ugly self. His two young enemies watched

122

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

him closely, for they suspected that the drink he had
taken had helped to Jeremy's previous discovery. As
the hours went by, one after another of the buccaneers
woke and dragged himself on deck to growl the dis-
comfort out of him. By mid-afternoon Jeremy, going
below, found all the bunks empty. He slipped behind
a chest far up in the dark bow angle and waited for a
signal from Bob. The boys had seen the man with the
broken nose watching the decks uneasily for hours and
suspected that he meant to go below as soon as the
fo'c's'le was empty.

Jeremy must have been in his hiding place close
to half an hour before he heard Bob's sharply whistled
tune close outside in the gun deck. He ducked lower
behind his box and presently heard steps descending
the ladder. A guarded observation taken from a dark
corner close to the floor disclosed the slouching form of
Daggs standing by the table.

The buccaneer took a long time for his cautious sur-
vey of the fo'c's'le. Standing perfectly still he turned
his body from the hips and gave the place a silent
scrutiny before he set to work. He proceeded just as he
had done before and quickly had the chest open and its
contents spread upon the planking. He had just un-
rolled the chart when a shout from the hatch made him
leap to his feet. "Sail ho!" was being passed from
mouth to mouth above, and already there were men on

123

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the ladder. In a fever of haste, Daggs half-pushed, half-
threw the chest under his bunk and shoved the loose
clothes and small arms after it. The paper he still held
in his hand. After a second of indecision, while he
looked over his shoulder at the descending crowd of
seamen, he thrust it in on top of the box and stood
erect, flushed and swaying. The hands were preoccu-
pied and none seemed to notice his act. There was a
general scurrying of sailors to get out their cutlasses
and pistols, and in the confusion Jeremy found an easy
opportunity to crawl out of the hiding place and busy
himself like the rest.

Going on deck a minute later, he found Bob and
whispered a brief account of what he had seen. For the
present there was much to be done on deck. They ran
hither and thither at Herriot's commands, giving a
hand at a rope or fetching something mislaid in the
cabin. The James was under all her canvas and in hot
pursuit of a large sloop, visible some three miles to lee-
ward. The fleeing ship was driving straight to sea be-
fore the strong west breeze, her sails spread on both
sides like the broad, stubby wings of a white owl. Bon-
net had his jury spar swung to starboard from the
foremast foot and bent the big jib to balance his
main and foresail. Bowing her head deep into every
trough as the waves swept by, the black sloop ran
after her prey at dizzy speed. The crew gathered

124

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

along the wet bows, silent, intent on the game in
hand. They were drawing up perceptibly from moment
to moment. At last they were within half a mile — five
hundred yards — close astern. Aboard the enemy they
could see a small knot of men huddled aft, working
desperately at the breech of a swivel-cannon. Bonnet
ordered Herriot to stand off to starboard for a broad-
side. But as the James swerved outward, a flare of fire
and a loud report went up from her opponent's after
part. For a moment it seemed that her cannon had
been discharged at the pirate, but as they waited for
the splash of the shot, a thick smoke grew in a cloud
over the enemy's deck. The gun or a keg of powder had
exploded. As soon as the buccaneers perceived it, they
bellowed hoarse hurrahs and prepared to board. The
gunners swarmed up from the port gun deck at the
order and all lined up along the rail howling defiance
at the merchantman. Jeremy saw that all were on deck
and touched Bob's arm.

They made their way quietly below, and the New
Englander went to Daggs' berth. From beneath it pro-
truded the corner of the piece of paper. Both boys knelt
eagerly over it as Jeremy pulled it into the light.

It was, as they had expected, a chart. The drawing
was crudely done in ink, applied it seemed with a stick,
or possibly with a very badly fashioned quill-pen.
There was very little writing upon it, and this of the

125

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

raggedest sort. To their intense disappointment it bore
no name to tell where in the seven seas it might be.
That the chart was of some coast was certain. A deep,
irregular bay occupied the central part of the sheet.
Two long promontories jutting from east and west
nearly closed the seaward or southern end. The single
word "Watter" was written beside a dot high up on
the paper and a little northeast of the bay. An anchor,
roughly drawn near the northern shore and a small
cross between two parallel lines a short distance in-
land, completed the information given, except for a
crossed arrow and letters indicating the cardinal points
of the compass.

It required no great time for the two lads to exam-
ine every line and mark. They looked up and faced
each other disappointed. Jeremy voiced the thought
which both had. "How are we to know where the thing
is?" he asked. Bob shook his head and looked glum.
Then he seized the paper feverishly and turned it over.
Its soiled yellow back gave no clue. Not even the lati-
tude and longitude were printed. "Well," said Jer-
emy, finally, "one thing we can do, and that's remem-
ber exactly how it looks." He measured the length of
the bay with the middle joint of his forefinger. "Three
— four — and a bit over," he counted. "Anchorage in
that round cove to the northwest." Then, measuring
again, "And the cross is two finger-joints northwest of

126

QCCANEER

ines each side of it are I

ber them. And that dot

i a half northeast of the

I guess we've got it all by

;hed speaking and both of

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the beginning of a sharp

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t and they hurried up to

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Few shots were being re-
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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

man fell fighting and died sword in hand. To the two
young prisoners, already sickened with the sight of
blood, this wholesale murder of a band of gallant sea-
men came as a revolting climax. They stared at each
other, white-faced as they thought of the fate that
threatened them and all honest men who fell into such
ruthless hands. It was Bob's first sight of a hand-to-
hand sea-battle, and as the last merchant sailor went
down under the howling pack he fainted and tumbled
into Jeremy's arms. When he came to his senses again
the Yankee boy had propped him up behind the com-
panion and was rubbing him vigorously. 'T know how
you feel," he said in answer to Bob's stammered apol-
ogy. 'It's all right and you've no call to be ashamed.
I came near it myself." The Delaware lad, who had
been almost as distressed at being guilty of swooning
as at the pillage of the merchant sloop, felt a vast re-
lief when he heard Jeremy's words, and quickly got
upon his feet once more.

The pirates had cleared the enemy's deck of bodies
and blood and now were taking an inventory of the
sloop's cargo, if the shouts that came from her hold
meant anything. She was a little larger than the James
in length and beam, but had carried no armament other
than the now damaged stern-chaser. The white letters
at her stern declared her the Fortune of New Castle.
From what Captain Bonnet said to his sailing-master

128

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

as they returned over the rail, Jeremy gathered that she
had been in light cargo and was not as rich a prize as
the Francis.

The latter ship had now come up and was standing
off and on waiting for orders. Bonnet had lost two men
killed and several hurt in the fight, so that the crew of
the Royal James, without the prize crew on board the
Francis, now numbered scarce a dozen able-bodied
men. The question of manning the newly captured
sloop was finally settled by transferring to her George
Dunkin and his seven seamen. Bonnet freed the men
of the Francis who had been in chains, and set them to
work their own ship under command of Herriot and
another pirate. He undertook to sail the James him-
self, for by this time he was really an able skipper,
despite the fact that he had taken to the sea so late in
life. As the crew of the Francis lined up before going
aboard, the notorious buccaneer faced them with a cold
glitter in his eyes. For a while he kept them wriggling
under his piercing scrutiny. Then he spoke, his voice
even and dangerous.

"You will be under Mr. Herriot's orders. I think
you are wise enough not to try to mutiny with him.
But if you should undertake it, remember that no
sooner does your sloop draw away to over one mile's
distance than I will come after you and blow you out
of water without parley. There are just enough sails

129

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

left aboard your ship to keep headway in a light breeze.
Over with you now I"

As darkness deepened the three sloops set out west-
ward under shortened canvas, keeping so close that the
steersmen hailed each other frequently through the
night. Bob and Jeremy went to their bunks gloomy and
subdued. But Jeremy's sorrows were lightened by the
feeling that sometime, somewhere, he would find a use
for the chart, the outline of which he had firmly fixed
in his memory that afternoon. And wondering how, he
fell asleep.

130

T

CHAPTER XIX

]/■ 'ii'N^HE fair weather held and for several days the
little fleet cruised west by south, then south-
erly when they had picked up the Virginia
Capes. The pirate crew, in spite of their impatience to
divide the cumbersome booty they had helped to win,
kept in a fairly good temper. Hopes were high and
quarrels were quickly put aside with a "Take it easy,
boys — wait till the sharin's over." Bob and Jeremy got
oif with a minimum of hard words and might have con-
sidered their lot almost agreeable but for one incident.
The whippings which were a regular part of boys' lives
aboard ship in those days, had always been adminis-
tered by George Dunkin. As bo's'n, it was not only his
right but his duty to lay in with a rope's end occasion-
ally. He was one of the fairest men in Bonnet's com-
pany and Jeremy had never felt any great injustice in
the treatment Dunkin had accorded him. Since his lieu-
tenancy aboard the prize-sloop, however, the bo's'n
had necessarily ceased to be the executive of punish-
ment, and when Monday, recognized on all the seas
as whipping day, came around, there was a very secret
hope in Jeremy's heart that the office would be forgot-
ten. As for Bob, he had so far escaped the lash, it being

132

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

understood that he was not an ordinary ship's boy. As
the day wore on, the Yankee lad remained as inconspic-
uous as possible, and began to think that he was safe.
About mid-afternoon, however, a gang of buccaneers,
working at the rent in the bows which still gave trou-
ble, shouted for a bucket of drinking water. Bob had
been snoozing in the shade of the sail, and when he
was roused at last, took his own time in carrying out
the order. When he appeared finally, there was a good
deal of swearing in the air. Daggs reached out and
jerked the boy into the center of the group, his light
eyes agleam under scowling brows. "See here, you lit-
tle runt," he hissed, "don't think because the Cap'n's
savin' you to kill later, that you're the bloomin' mate
of this ship! Come here to the capstan, now I" Before
Bob was aware of what they meant to do, the angry
sailors had slung him over a capstan bar and tied his
hands and feet to a ring in the deck. After the clothes
had been pulled off his back, there was an interval
while the pirates quarrelled over who should do the
whipping. Daggs demanded the right and finally pre-
vailed by threatening the instant disemboweling of his
rivals. Bob was trembling and white, not from fear but
because of the indignity of the punishment. The
scarred executioner spat on his hands, took the heavy
rope and squared his feet. "Shiver away, you cowardly
pup," said he, grinning at one side of his twisted

133

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

mouth. Then with a vicious whirl of his arm he brought
the hard hemp down on the boy's naked shoulders —
once, twice, three times — the lad lost count. At last he
nearly lost consciousness under the torturing fire of the
blows. When the buccaneer ceased for lack of breath
his victim hung limp and twitching over the wooden
bar. Long welts that were beginning to drip red crossed
and recrossed his back. "Now, where's that other
whelp T' panted Daggs. Somebody went below and
dragged Jeremy to light. The boy was brought up to
the crowd at the capstan. He took one look at Bob's
pitiful, set stare and the red drops on the deck, then
turned blazing to face the man with the broken nose.

"You great coward I" he cried. The man was stag-
gered for an instant. Then his rage boiled up and the
tanned skin of his neck turned the color of old mahog-
any. "Til kill the boy," he whispered hoarsely and drew
back his heavy rope for a swing at Jeremy's head.

"Daggs" — a voice cut the air from close by his side.
"Daggs, who made you bo's'n of this sloop?"

The man whirled and nearly fell over, for Stede
Bonnet was at his elbow. "One more thing of this kind
aboard, and I'll maroon you," said the Captain sharply,
and added, "Gray, put this man in irons and see that
he gets only bread and water for five days I" Then he
turned on his heel and went back to the cabin. So once
more Jeremy's life was saved by the Captain's whim.

134

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

He half carried, half supported his chum to their bunk
and after rubbing his back with grease, begged from the
galley, nursed him the rest of the day. By the follow-
ing afternoon the Delaware lad had recovered his spir-
its and although he was still too sore and stiff to go on
deck, had no trouble in eating the food Jeremy brought
him. The absence of Daggs made life assume a happier
outlook and it was not long before the boy was as right
as ever.

August was nearly past. To the boys, who knew lit-
tle of the geography of the coast and nothing of Bon-
net's plans, it was something of a surprise when the
man at the tiller of the James^ which was in the lead,
swung her head over to landward one morning. Low
shores, with a white line of sand beneath the vivid dark
green of trees, ran along the western horizon. As the
sloop ran in, the boys expected to see the broad open-
ing of some bay but there was still no visible variation
of the coast line. No town was to be seen, nor even a
single hut, when they were close in. The trees were
live-oaks, Bob said, though Jeremy had never seen one
to know it before.

The Royal James and her consorts held a slow course
along the shore for several hours. The strip of sand was
gradually widening and in places stretched inland for
a mile in dunes and hillocks, traversed by little tide-
water creeks. At last there showed a narrow inlet be-

135

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

tween two dunes, and Bonnet, who had now taken the
helm, headed the sloop cautiously for this opening.
One of the men constantly heaved the lead and cried
the soundings as the ship progressed. The pirate chief
kept to the left of the channel and finally passed
through into a wide lagoon, with a scant fathom to
spare at the shallowest place. The Fortune entered
without difficulty, but the deeply-laden Francis
grounded midway in and had to wait several hours for
the tide to float her.

Listening to the talk of the crew, Bob heard them
say they had come into the mouth of the Cape Fear
River in Carolina. From what he knew of the nearby
coast he believed that it was a very wild region, al-
most unsettled, and that there would be slight chance
of getting to safety, even if they were able to effect an
escape. This fear seemed justified later in the day,
when Bonnet said to one of his men that there was no
need of shackling the boys as had been done in the
Chesapeake. Turning so that they could hear, he added,
"Too many Indians in these woods for the lads to try
to leave the ship." Jeremy, who had seen enough of
both pirates and Indians to last him a lifetime, re-
marked to his friend that personally he would risk his
neck with one as soon as the other, but Bob had heard
terrible stories of the red men's cruelty and did not

136

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

agree with him. *'We'd best stay aboard and wait for a
better chance," he argued.

All three of the sloops were leaky and needed a thor-
ough overhauling in various ways. As soon as the
Francis was off the bar, therefore, they proceeded up
the estuary for a distance of nearly two miles and se-
cured their vessels in shallow water, where they could
be careened at low tide.

Next morning and for many hot days thereafter the
pirates and their prisoners toiled hard at the refitting
of the ships. Lumber was not easy to come by in that
desolate region and when they had used up all their
spare planking, Bonnet took the Royal James out over
the bar to hunt for the wherewithal to do his patching.
After a cruise of a day and a night to the southward
they sighted a small fishing shallop which they quickly
overtook, and captured without a fight. The two men in
the shallop jumped overboard and swam ashore when
they saw the black flag, and Bonnet was too much oc-
cupied in getting the prize back to the river-mouth to
give chase. It was an unfortunate thing for him that
he did not do so, but of that presently. The shallop was
run into the river-mouth and broken up the next day.
With the fresh supply of lumber thus secured, the work
of repair went forward undelayed, and within a few
weeks the sloops were almost ready for sea again.

137

CHAPTER XX

IT HAD been about the beginning of September when
the pirate fleet had sighted the live oaks on the
bars of the Cape Fear River. To Bob and Jeremy
those first days were uneventful but hardly pleasant.
Through the long still afternoons a pitiless sun blazed
into every corner of the deck. Wide flats and hot-look-
ing white dunes stretched away on either hand. Only
the line of woods half a mile distant offered a sugges-
tion of green coolness. When the sun had set, the
fo'c's'le held the heat like a baker's oven. One long,
tossing night of it sufficed for the two boys, and after
that they sought a corner of the deck away from the
snoring seamen and lying down on the bare planks,
contrived to sleep in reasonable comfort.

The days were spent in hard work for the most part.
A good deal of washing and cleaning had to be done
aboard all three vessels, and as labor requiring no spe-
cial skill, it fell frequently to the lot of Jeremy and
Bob. It was small matter to them whether they toiled
or were idle, for the blistering sun allowed no respite
and it seemed preferable to sweat over something use-
ful than over nothing at all.

On the third day after the return of the James from

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her foraging trip, Jeremy, who had been scraping and
tarring ropes for hours on end, straightened his back
with a discontented grunt and looked away to the
edge of the woods, his eyebrows puckered in a frown.
"Bob," he said in a voice too low for any of their ship-
mates to hear, "Bob, I'm going to run away if some-
thing doesn't happen soon."

"You'll be shot, like as not," answered the Dela-
ware boy.

"Well, shot let it be," he replied doggedly. "If I'm
to stay aboard here all my life, I'd rather be shot. It
looks like the best chance we've had, right now. Will
you come tonight T'

Bob thought for a moment. "I'm not afraid of their
catching us," he finally said. "It's the Indians, after
we're into the woods. You say you know the Indians
and trust them as long as they are treated right. That
may be true of the ones you've known, but these Tusca-
roras are different. They don't talk the same language,
and those words you learned would mayhap go for
curses down here. I don't think we ought to try it."

Jeremy admitted that his previous acquaintance
stood for nothing, but argued, from the fact that Bon-
net had been trying to frighten them, that he had prob-
ably exaggerated the danger. Finally, not wishing to
leave his friend if he could help it, he agreed to aban-
don the plan for the present.

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They worked at the rope-tarring till supper-time,
then rose wearily, stretching, and went for their salt-
horse and biscuit. When the coarse rations were eaten,
it was nearly sunset. Jeremy watched the sluggish
water glide by below the canted rail, till at last small
quivering blurs of light, the reflections of stars, began
to gleam in the ripples. A faint breeze, sprung up with
the coming of night, blew across the sweltering lagoon.
Bob, tired out, fell asleep, his head pillowed on the
deck. The pirates, some below in the bunks, some
stretched on the planking, lay like dead men. After
the hard labor of the day even the regular watch slum-
bered undisturbed. Jeremy's thoughts went drifting off
into half-dreams as the soft black water lulled him with
its unending whisper. His head nodded. He raised it,
striving, he knew not why, to keep awake. The gentle
water-sounds crept in again, soothing his drowsy ears.
He was close to sleep — so close that another moment
would have taken him across the border. But in that
little time the sharp double cry of a heron, flying high
over the lagoon, cut the night air and startled the boy
broad awake.

As he stared off over the dim whiteness of the bars,
his senses astretch for a repetition of that weird call,
there was a faint splashing in the water close to the
sloop. One of the starpools was blotted out in black-
ness at the instant he turned to look over the rail. The

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boy's heart seemed to be beating against the roof of his
mouth. Thoughts of alligators crossed his mind, for he
had heard of them from the pirates who had plied in
southern waters. As quietly as he could, he moved to
the rail and stood staring over, his eyes bulging into
the dark and his breath coming short and fast. For per-
haps a minute there was no sight nor sound but the
lapping water of the lagoon. Then he became aware of
a whiteness drifting close, and heard a familiar voice
whispering his name. "Jeremy — Jeremy — it's Job I"
said the white blotch. It bumped softly along the side,
and at last the boy could see the homely features of
his old friend, pale through the gloom. There was a
loose rope-end dragging over the side, and Job's hand
feeling along the woodwork came in contact with it.

"Better not try to come aboard," whispered Jeremy.
"They're all on deck here. Can you take us off?"

There was silence for an instant as Job felt for a
hold in one of the gun ports. Then he raised himself
till his head was level with the deck.

"Is the other lad there?" he asked.

"Ay," replied Jeremy. "He's here but he will have
to be wakened."

"Go to him and take his hand. Begin squeezing soft-
like, and press harder till he opens his eyes. Don't star-
tle him," was Job's admonition.

The boy did as he was bid. A gentle grip on the Dela-

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

ware lad's palm brought him to his senses. Jeremy was
whispering in a cool, steady undertone, "Bob, that's
the lad — wake up. Bob — don't say a word — sh! — easy
there — are you awake *?" When he was rewarded by a
nod of comprehension, he told his comrade of Job's
presence and the chance they had to escape. Bob un-
derstood in a moment. They returned to the rail and
first one, then the other let himself quietly down, hold-
ing to the rope. Jeremy slipped into the water last.

Luckily they could both swim, though the sloop was
so near the beach that swimming was hardly necessary.
The tall ex-pirate crawled out upon the sand in the
lead and they followed him quickly over a dune and
across another creek. They were now far enough away
for their flight to be unheard and Job began to run, the
boys close behind him. They made a good mile to the
south before he allowed his panting runaways to stop
for breath. There in the reeds beside a narrow estuary,
they came upon a small dinghy, pulled up. The seaman
ran the boat into the water, bundled the boys into the
bottom astern, and was quickly pulling down stream
along the sharp windings of the creek.

When they had put three miles of sand and water
behind them. Job rested on his oars to catch his breath.
His voice came through the hot dark, pantingly.
"Lucky you stood up an' came to the rail the way you
did, lad," he said. 'T didn't know just how I was to

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© Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc.

THEY LET THEMSELVES QUIETLY DOWN

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

reach you. When you came to the side I could see it
was a boy, an' knew things was all right. Well — we'd
best be gettin' on — no tellin' how soon they may find
you're gone." Once more the big Yankee bowed his
back to the task in hand and a silence fell, broken
only by the faint sound of the muffled oars and the
swirl of water along the sides. Not even the thrill of
the escape could keep the two tired boys awake, and it
was nearly an hour later that they were roused by
voices calling at no great distance. A tall black mass
on which showed a single moving light rose out of the
gloom ahead. The hail was repeated. "Oh, there. Job
Rowland— boat ahoy! What luck?' "All's well," re-
plied Job, and ran in under the ship's counter. A line
was let down and as soon as the skiff was made fast
Bob and Jeremy and their deliverer scrambled up to
the open port.

There was shouting and a moving to and fro of lan-
terns, as they were ushered into the cabin, and sud-
denly a tall man, half-clad, burst through the door at
the farther end. He had the tattered form of Bob Curtis
in his arms in an instant, and great boy though he was,
the Delaware lad hugged his father ecstatically and
wept.

Job and Jeremy, pleased as they were to see this
reunion, were hardly comfortable in its presence and
made a vain attempt to withdraw gracefully. The mer-

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chant was after them before they could reach the door.
"Here, Rowland," he cried, holding to Bob with one
hand and seizing the ex-pirate's arm with the other.
"Don't you try to leave yet. Gad, man, this is the hap-
piest hour I've had in years. I owe you so much that
it can't be put in figures. And this tall lad is Jeremy
that you've told me of. Look at the sunburn on the
pair of 'em — pretty desperate characters to have
aboard, Fm afraid I"

His roar of laughter was joined by the other three,
as he showed the way to a couple of roomy berths, built
in at the end of the cabin. The two boys were left, after
a final boisterous "Good-night," and proceeded to make
themselves snug between the linen sheets. Jeremy had
never slept in such luxury in his whole life, and moved
gingerly for fear of hurting something. At last their
exhilaration subsided enough for the rescued lads to
go to sleep once more. Jeremy's last thought was a half-
mournful one as he wondered how long it must be be-
fore he, too, could throw himself against the broad
homespun wall of his father's breast.

144

CHAPTER XXI

W

HEN they woke it was to the regular heave
and lurch of a sailing vessel in motion, and
Jeremy, looking out the port, beheld the
crisp, sparkling blue of open sea.

There were two suits of every-day clothes upon the
cabin bench and into these the boys climbed, impatient
to get out on deck. The ship was the big merchantman,
Indian Queen^ though Bob, used as he was to her ap-
pearance, would hardly have known her in her new
guise. Long lines of black cannon grimly faced the
open ports along either side. The rail had been built
up solidly to a height of about six feet, so that the main
deck was now a typical gun deck, open overhead. Her
regular crew of seasoned mariners was augmented by
as many more longshoremen, all good men, picked for
their courage and hand-to-hand fighting ability.

Job, who acted as second mate and was in full charge
of the gun crews, took the boys proudly from one big
carronade to another, explaining each improvement
which his experience or ingenuity had devised. His
chief pride was the long nine-pounder in the bows. She
was a swivel gun set on bearings so finely adjusted and
well-greased that one man could aim her. Job patted

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her shiny brass rump lovingly as he looked across the
blue swells ahead. He could hardly wait for the hour
when he should set a match to her breech.

Clarke Curtis joined the group a few minutes later,
and they went together to the main cabin. Bob's fa-
ther, Mr. Ghent, the Captain, and Job Rowland set-
tled themselves comfortably over long pipes and
glasses of port, and prepared to hear the boys' story.
Jeremy, bashful in such fine company, was persuaded
to recount his adventures from the time Job had gone
over the side till the kidnapped Delaware boy had
come aboard. Then Bob took up the tale and told with
much spirit of the storm, the trip up the Chesapeake
and the subsequent pursuit of the Francis off the Capes.
From this point on the two lads told the story together,
eagerly interrupting each other to put in some incident
forgotten for the moment. When they came to the dis-
covery of Pharaoh Daggs' chart. Job sat up with a jerk.
'T always thought he knew!" he exclaimed. "Jeremy,
lad, could ye draw me a picture of what 'twas likeT'
The boy readily consented, and given a piece of paper,
proceeded to set down, from his memory of the outline
and from the general measurements he had taken, a
very fair copy of the original. The ex-buccaneer leaned
over him as he drew, and shook his head doubtfully as
the work went on. "No," he said when the boy had fin-
ished, "I can't recall such a bay just this minute. An'

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as there was nothin' on it to tell where it might be, I
don't know as there's anything for us to do. Like as
not it's on some little island as isn't set down, so
'twould be scant use to look over the ship's charts. Still,
I'll try it." A half-day of poring over the maps pro-
duced no result. There were bays large and small that
resembled the one Jeremy had drawn, but none closely
enough to warrant the belief that it was the same.
"Well," remarked Job as he put away the charts,
"Daggs'll never live to reach his bay. He'll swing on
Charles Town Dock, an I mistake not." But in that
saying at least the ex-pirate proved himself no prophet.

The light wind held and the Indian Queen made rea-
sonable speed down the coast for nearly two days.
Then, after drifting under short sail all night, she
made in with the dawn, past the small island which
nearly a century and a half later was to be the scene
of a great war's beginning, crept up against the tide
till noon and anchored off the thriving port of Charles
Town. Mr. Curtis and Job went ashore in the cutter,
as soon as all was snug aboard. On landing they went
directly to the Governor's house.

Governor Johnson was at home and gladly wel-
comed the Delaware merchant, who was an old ac-
quaintance of his. When they had been shown into a
large room where the official business of the colony was
transacted, Mr. Curtis proceeded at once to the point

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of his visit. He learned that the messenger from Dela-
ware had arrived and his plea for aid had been duly
considered. Johnson was troubled at having no better
answer for his friend, but said that the treasury of the
southern colony had not yet recovered from the strain
put upon it four years before at the time of the Indian
massacres. He believed that he had no right at this time
to spend the public funds in fitting out a fleet, unless
it was to avenge an injury done some member of the
colony. His honest distress at being unable to assist was
so obvious that neither the merchant nor his chief gun-
ner felt like urging their claim for help.

Mr. Curtis told of the rescue of the two boys, much
to the discomfort of the blushing Job, and they rose to
take their departure, feeling no ill will toward the
Governor for his inability to help them. As they started
to go out of the room, a loud insistent knock was heard.
"Come in," said Johnson, and immediately the door
was opened to admit a short, well-built gentleman,
very much flushed as to the face, and whose eyes fairly
shot forth sparks. He was followed by two other men,
dressed in rough clothes that seemed to have seen re-
cent hard usage. The leader advanced with rapid steps.
"Look'e here. Governor," he said, "those confounded
pirates are at us again. Here's two of my men — "

"Gently, Colonel Rhett," interrupted the Gover-
nor, his eyes twinkling. "Allow me to introduce Mr.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Clarke Curtis of Delaware and his friend, Mr. How-
land. I believe your business and theirs will fall very
easily into one track. Pray be seated, gentlemen."

The Colonel shot a keen glance at these new ac-
quaintances and, when the four had taken chairs
around the table, began again more calmly to tell his
story. A fishing smack, one of a half-dozen open boats
belonging to him, had been cruising along the coast to
the eastward the week before, and when about forty
miles west of Cape Fear had sighted a large black sloop
under great spread of sail, bearing down upon her. The
two men in the shallop put about and made for shore
as fast as they could, using oars and canvas alike, but
when they were still half a mile out they saw that the
pursuing ship flew a black pirate flag. When, a few mo-
ments after, a round shot came dangerously close to
their stern, they leaped over the side without more ado
and succeeded in swimming ashore, glad to come out of
the adventure with whole skins. After a perilous jour-
ney of many leagues overland, they had just arrived in
Charles Town and reported the affair to Rhett, their
employer. "So you see," said the Colonel in conclusion,
"we're in for another siege of the kind we had with
Blackbeard unless we take some quick action on this."

Johnson sat thoughtful for a moment. "Let me put
the matter up to you exactly as it now stands," he
finally said. "There is a little money in the treasury.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

But to buy and fit out properly three ships would drain
us almost as dry as we were in 1715. Would you have
me do that, Rhett?" The Colonel shook his head.
"No," he replied, "you must not." Then after looking
at the floor for a moment he stood up with quick de-
cision. "See here," he said, "we can get enough volun-
teers to do this whole business or my name's not Wil-
liam Rhett." Mr. Curtis thrust out a big hand. "My
ship Indian Queen, twenty-one guns, is in the harbor,
ready for sea. She's at your service," he smiled. The
Colonel gripped his hand delightedly. "Done," he
cried, "and now let's see what other commanders we
can recruit. Will you give me a commission. Gover-
nor'?" And receiving an affirmative reply, he led the
way down to the docks.

Colonel Rhett was a well-known figure in Charles
Town. He owned a large plantation a few miles in-
land, and conducted a fish warehouse as well. Among
tobacco growers, townsmen and sea-captains alike he
was widely acquainted and respected as much as any
man in the colony. His courage and skill as a soldier
were proverbial, for he had been a leader in the sup-
pression of the Indian uprising. Certainly no man in
the Carolinas was better fitted for the task which he
had in hand. For two days he and his friends from the
Queen fairly lived on the wharves, and before sunset
of the second he had secured the services of two sloops,

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the Henry, Captain John Masters, and the Sea Nymph,
Captain Fayrer Hall. Neither ship was equipped for
fighting, but by using cannon from the town defences
and borrowing some half-dozen pieces from the heav-
ily-armed hidmn Queen, a complement of eight guns
for each sloop was made up.

On September 15th the three ships, in war trim and
carrying in their combined crews nearly 200 men,
crossed the Charles Town bar. Just before they sailed
news had come in that the notorious pirate, Charles
Vane, had passed to the south with a prize, and Rhett's
first course was laid along the coast in that direction.
Two or three days of search in the creeks and inlets
failed to reveal any sign of the buccaneer, however,
and much to the relief of the impatient Mr. Curtis,
they put about for Cape Fear on the eighteenth. The
progress of the fleet up the coast was slow. Constant
rumors of pirates were received, and every hiding place
on the shore was examined as they went along.

Bob and Jeremy, wild with suppressed excitement,
could hardly brook this delay, for, as they warned the
officers of the expedition repeatedly, there was every
reason to expect that Bonnet would leave the river
soon, if he had not gone already. For this reason the
Indian Queen went on in advance of the others and
patrolled the waters off the headland for four days,
until Rhett should come up.

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On the evening of the twenty-sixth he made his ap-
pearance and as there was still light they decided to
enter the river-mouth. The tide was just past flood.
Rhett's flagship, the He?2ry, nosed in first over the bar
and was followed by the Sea Nymph. The great, deep-
draughted Queen advanced to within a few lengths of
the entrance, but the soundings showed that even there
she had only a fathom or two to spare, and would cer-
tainly come to grief if she adventured further. As it
was, even the lighter sloops ran aground fifteen min-
utes later and were not launched again till nearly
dawn. Captain Ghent had anchored the big ship as
close in as he dared and she sat bow-on to the channel-
mouth. Her two consorts were in plain sight a few hun-
dred yards inside. Rhett came back during the night
in a small boat and held a council of war with Curtis,
Ghent and Job Rowland. He reported that a party of
pirates in longboats had come down river during the
evening to reconnoitre, but had beat a retreat as soon
as they had seen the Henry's guns.

It was decided about half the crew of the Queen
should be added to the force of men on the two sloops,
while the big vessel herself was forced to be content
with standing guard off the entrance. This was a bitter
blow not only to Mr. Curtis, but to Job and the boys,
who had looked forward to the battle with zest.

Bob and Jeremy had been ordered to bed about mid-
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night, but they rose before light, in their excitement,
and sunrise found them in the bows with Job, watching
the long point of sand behind which they knew the pi-
rates lay. Preparations had been made aboard the
Henry and Sea Nymph for an immediate advance up
the river. Hardly had the first slant beams of sunlight
struck upon Rhett's deck before the crew were lustily
pulling at the main halyards and winding in the anchor
chain.

But even before the two Carolina sloops were under
way there was an excited chorus of "Here he comes!"
and above the dune at the bend of the river, appeared
the headsails of the Royal James. Bonnet had weighed
his chances and decided for a running fight. The pirate
ship cleared the point, nearly a mile away, and came
flying down, every inch of canvas drawing in the stiff
offshore breeze. It seemed for a moment as if she might
get safely past the Carolinians and out to sea, with the
Queen as her only antagonist. Probably Bonnet had
counted on the unexpectedness of his maneuver to ac-
complish this result. But if so, he had left out of his
reckoning the character of William Rhett. That gentle-
man hesitated not an instant, but headed upstream di-
rectly toward the enemy. Fortunately, he had two good
skippers in Masters and Hall, for the good Colonel him-
self knew little of sailing. Thanks to these lieutenants,
the two attacking sloops were let off the wind at ex-

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actly the right time, and filled away down the river
close together off the pirate's starboard bow. Bonnet
raced up abeam, firing broadsides as fast as his men
could load, and his cannonade was answered in kind
from the Henry. She and the Sea Nymph began to veer
over to port, forcing the black sloop closer and closer
to shore, but the buccaneer Captain refused to take in
an inch of sail. His course was all but justified. The
speedy craft which he commanded gained on her foes
hand over hand till, when only a few hundred yards
from the narrow mouth of the estuary, she led them
both by her own length.

From the deck of the Queen Jeremy and Bob could
pick out the big form of Herriot at the tiller. Just as
the Royal James passed into the lead, they saw him
swing mightily on the long steering-beam while at the
same instant the main sheet was hauled in. It was pret-
tily done. The pirate went hard over to starboard, kick-
ing up a wave of spray as she slewed. She sprang away
from under the bows of the Henry with only inches to
spare, for the bowsprit of Rhett's sloop tore the edge
of her mainsail in passing. The fierce cheer that rose
from the deck of the black buccaneer was drowned in
a jarring crash. She had eluded her foe only to run, ten
seconds later, upon a submerged sand bar. It was now
the Carolinians' turn to cheer, though it soon appeared
that they might better have saved their breath for other

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

purposes. The Henry, unable to check her speed, ran
straight ahead, and hardly a minute after her enemy's
mishap was hard aground twenty yards away. Both
sloops lay careened to starboard, so that the whole deck
of the Henry offered a fair target for Bonnet's mus-
ketry, while the Royal James's port side was thrown
up, a stout defence against the small-arm lire of Rhett's
men. Owing to the slant of their decks it was impos-
sible to train the cannon of either ship.

The Sea Nymph, meanwhile, in an effort to cut off
the course of the pirate, had put over straight for the
channel mouth, and before she could come about her
bows also were fast in the sand, and she lay stern to-
ward the other two, but out of musket-shot, unable to
take a hand in the hot fight that followed. Had either
the Henry s crew or the buccaneers been able to send a
proper broadside from their position, it seems that they
must surely have blown their foe out of water, though
we need, of course, to make allowance for the compara-
tive feebleness of their ordnance in contrast to that of
the present day.

The stranding of the three vessels had occupied so
short a time that the little group of witnesses high up
in the bow of the Indian Queen had not yet exchanged
a word. Clinging to the rail, open-mouthed, they had
seen the pirate make her bold dash across the bows of
her pursuers, only to strike the bar in her instant of

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triumph, then following with the quickness of events
in a dream, the grounding first of the Henry, after-
wards of the Nymph.

Nor was there an appreciable pause in the spectacle,
for the pirates, who had been shooting steadily during
the race down river, wasted no time in trying to get
off the bar, but raked their nearby adversaries' deck
with a withering fire. Rhett's crew tumbled into the
scuppers, where they were under the partial cover of
the bulwark, but many were killed, even before they
could reach this shelter, and living and dead rolled
down together, as in a ghastly comedy.

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CHAPTER XXII

y WN^HE boys, intent upon this awful scene, turned
I as a shout from Job Rowland swelled above

-iL the uproar. The big gunner was at the breech
of his swivel-gun, ramrod in hand. The little group
scattered to one side or the other, leaving an open space
at the bow rail. At the same moment Job put in his
powder, a heavy charge, ramming it home quickly, but
with all care. On top of the wadding went the round-
shot, which was in its turn hammered down under the
powerful strokes of the ramrod. Maneuvering the well-
balanced breech with both hands, the tall Yankee
trained his cannon upon the pirate sloop; allowed for
distance, raising the muzzle an inch or more ; nosed the
wind and glanced at the foremast pennons; then swung
his piece a fraction of an inch to windward.

At last with a shout of " 'Ware fire !" he sprang back
and laid his match to the touch-hole. There was a spurt
of flame as the long nine roared above the staccato bark
of the musketry. Then they saw a section of the pirate's
upper rail leap clear of her deck and fall overside. *'Too
high," said Job shortly, though Ghent and Curtis had
cheered at the shot, for the distance was a good half-
mile. Job worked feverishly at his reloading, helped by

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others of the Queen's gun crews. Again the charge was
a stout one, but this time the gunner laid his muzzle
pointblank at the top of the rail, allowing only for
wind. Once more he fired. Just short of the Royal
James went up a little tower of spray. Job said not a
word, but set his great angular jaws and went about
his work with all the speed he had.

"Look," said Jeremy to Bob, in a sudden burst of
understanding, "the tide's rising. See how it runs in
past our bows. In another five minutes one of those
boats will be afloat. Watch how the James rocks up
and down already I If she gets off first, it'll go hard
with Rhett, for Bonnet'U let off a broadside as soon as
his guns are level. That's why Job's trying so hard to
put a hole in her."

Almost as he spoke the report of the third shot rolled
out. The buccaneer sloop jumped sharply, like a
spurred horse. In her side, just at the water line, a black
streak had suddenly appeared. The waves of the in-
coming tide no longer swayed her buoyantly, for she
wallowed on the bar like a log. The effect of the shot,
though it could be seen from the Sea Nymph^ where it
was greeted with cheers, was still unknown aboard the
Henry. In the wash of water as the tide rolled in,
Rhett's sloop stood almost on an even keel. The rem-
nant of his crew appeared to have taken heart, for a
brisk fire now answered that of the buccaneers. Sud-

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denly a triumphant shouting began aboard the stranded
flagship, soon answered in increasing volume from her
two consorts. The Henry was moving slowly off the
bar.

On the black sloop there was a silence as of death.
Stede Bonnet, late gentleman of the island of Barba-
dos, honorably discharged as major from the army of
his Majesty, since turned sea-rover for no apparent
cause, and now one of the most notorious plunderers of
the coast, faced his last fight. Outnumbered nearly ten
to one, his ship a stranded hulk, his cannon useless,
surely he read his doom. His men read it and turned
sullenly to haul down the tattered rag of black that
still hung from the masthead. But a last blaze of the
old mad courage flared up in the Captain, as he faced
them, dishevelled and bloody, from behind cocked pis-
tols. Above the tumult of the fusillade his voice, usu-
ally so clear, rose hoarse with anger. 'TTl scatter the
deck with the brains of any man who will not hght to
the end I" he cried.

For a second the issue was in doubt. In another in-
stant the iron spell he held over his men must have
won them back. Herriot was already running to his
side. But before he reached his chief a louder cheer
from the attacking sloops made him turn. The black
"Roger" fluttered downward to the deck.

One of the captive sailors from the Francis^ fearing

160

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STEDE BONNET FACED HIS LAST FIGHT

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

to be taken for a pirate if it came to deck-fighting, had
crept up behind the mast and cut the flag halyards.
The men's hearts fell with the falling ensign and they
stood irresolute while the Henry went up alongside.
There was now water enough for her to come close
aboard and when she stood at a boat's length distant,
Colonel Rhett appeared at the rail. He pointed to the
muzzles of four loaded cannon aboard his sloop and
told Bonnet that he would proceed to blow him into the
air if he did not surrender in one minute's time. There
was little parley. The pirate captain's flare of re-
sistance had burned out and pale and strangely shaken
he handed over his sword and submitted to the disarm-
ing of his men.

It was now well along in the morning. The prisoners
whom Rhett had taken were rowed out in small boats
across the bar and put aboard the Indian Queen. One
by one they were hauled over the side and placed below
in chains. Job, Jeremy and Bob stood at a little distance
and counted those who had been captured. Now and
then they were greeted by an ugly look and a curse as
some old shipmate recognized them. Last of all, Major
Bonnet passed, haggard and unkempt, his head bowed
in shame.

*'Thirty-five in all," finished Job. "Guess our old
and handsome friend, Pharaoh Daggs must have got
his gruel in that fight. Well, if ever man deserved to

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die a violent death, it's him. I'd like to make sure,
though. Want to go over to the James with me'?" Both
boys welcomed the opportunity and as the longboat was
just then starting back, they were soon aboard the bat-
tered pirate, so recently their home. Three or four dead
men lay on the canted deck, for no effort had been made
as yet to clean the ship. Bob and Jeremy had no
stomach for looking at the corpses of their erstwhile
companions and turned rather to explore the cabin and
fo'c's'le, leaving Job to hunt for the body of their old
enemy.

In the long bunkroom some water had entered with
the rising tide and they found the lower side a minia-
ture lake. In the semi-darkness, seamen's chests floated
past like houses in a flood. One of the big boxes was
open, half its contents trailing after it. Something
familiar about the brass-bound cover and the blue cloth
that hung over the side made Jeremy start. "Daggs'
chest I" he exclaimed and reached forward, pulling it
up on the dry planking. The two boys delved into the
damp rubbish it held. There were a few clothes, a rusty
pistol, an able seaman's certificate crumpled and torn
almost beyond recognition. The sack of money and the
chart were gone. After searching in dark corners of the
fo'c's'le and fishing in the pool of leakage without dis-
covering what they sought, the boys returned to the
box. *'Odd," said Jeremy at length. "Every other chest

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is locked fast. Why should he have opened his?" This
seemed unanswerable. They returned to the deck, to
find Job peering into the green water overside. "The
body's not here," said the big seaman, "unless he fell
over the rail or was thrown over. I'm looking to see if
it's down there." The sand shone clean and white
through the shallow water on every side. No trace of
the buccaneer was to be seen. Jeremy told of finding
the open chest. "Hm," mused Job, "looks like he'd got
away, though he may be dead; I'd like to know for sure.
Still," he added, his face clearing, "chances are we'll
never see nor hear of him again." And putting the
man with the broken nose out of their thoughts, they
rejoined their friends on the big merchantman.

Just before nightfall the Carolina sloops, which had
made an expedition up the river, returned with Bon-
net's two prizes in tow. They had been abandoned in
the effort to escape, and Rhett had launched them
without difficulty. A great sound of hammering filled
the air above the desert lagoon for two days. The old
Revenge, now so rechristened since she had fallen into
honest hands, had to be floated, for there was still
service in her shattered black hull. A hundred men
toiled on and around her, and in a remarkably short
time a jury patch was made in her gaping side and her
hold pumped dry. Then crews were picked to man the
three captured sloops, and the flotilla was ready to

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return triumphant. On the morning when they stood
out to sea, the twelve men of Rhett's party who had
been killed in action were buried with military honors,
saluted by the cannon of the fleet.

A voyage of three days, unmarred by any accident,
brought the victorious squadron in to Charles Town
harbor. Joy knew no bounds among the merchants and
seamen along the docks. Indeed, the rejoicing spread
through the town to the tune of church bells and the
whole colony was soon made aware of Rhett's victory.

When the buccaneers had been taken ashore under
a heavy guard and locked up in the public watchhouse,
Mr. Curtis and Bob, with Job and Jeremy, went ashore
to stretch their legs. It was a fine, fall day, warm as
midsummer to Jeremy's way of thinking. The docks
were fascinatingly full of merchandise. Great hogs-
heads of molasses and rum from Jamaica, set ashore
from newly arrived ships, shouldered for room with
baled cotton and boxes of tobacco ready to be loaded.
There was a smell of spices and hot tar where the sun
beat down on the white decks and tall spars of the
shipping. Negroes, hitherto almost unknown to the
Yankee boy, handled bales and barrels on the wharves,
their gleaming black bodies naked to the waist.

Planters from the fertile country behind the town
rode in with their attendant black boys, and gathered
at the coffee-houses on King Charles Street. It was to

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one of these, the ''Scarlet Fish," that the bluff Dela-
ware man took his proteges for dinner.

The place was resplendent with polished deal and
shining pewter. Curtains of brightly colored stuff hung
at the high square windows, and on the side where the
sun entered, pots of flowers stood in the broad window-
shelves. There were gay groups of men at the tables,
and talk of the pirates was going everywhere over
the Madeira and chocolate. It seemed the news of Job's
gunnery had been spread by Rhett's men, for some of
the diners recognized and pointed to him. A pretty
barmaid, with dimples in her elbows, curtsied low as
she set down his cup. "Oh, yes. Captain Rowland I"
she answered as he gave his order, blushed a deep pink
and ran to the kitchen. Whereupon Job, quite over-
come, vowed that the ladies of Carolina were the fairest
in the world, and Mr. Curtis roared heartily, saying
that "Captain Rowland" it should be, and that before
many months, if he knew a good seadog.

As they sat and sipped their coffee after a meal that
reflected glory upon the cook of the "Scarlet Fish,"
Colonel Rhett came in and made his way to their table
through a hurly-burly of back-slappings and "Bravos."
As soon as he was able to sit down in peace, he drew
Mr. Curtis a little aside to talk in private. The two boys
were content to watch the changing scene and listen to
the hearty badinage of the fashionable young blades

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about the tables. It was, you must remember, Jeremy's
first experience of luxury, unless the good, clean quar-
ters and wholesome 'meals aboard the Queen could be
so called. He had never read any book except the Bible,
had never seen more than a half-dozen pictures in his
life. From these and from the conversation of back-
woodsmen and, more recently, of pirates, he had been
forced to form all his conceptions of the world outside
of his own experience. It is a tribute to his traditions
and self-reliance that he sat unabashed, pleased with
the color, the gayety, the richness, but able still to
distinguish the fine things from the sham, the honest
things from those which only appeared honest — to feel
a thrill of pride in his father's hard, rough-hewn life
and his own.

Colonel Rhett's conference with Mr. Curtis being
over, the score was paid and the party took their tri-
umphal way to the door. Job turning his sunburned
face once or twice to glance regretfully after the dim-
pled barmaid.

That afternoon they were taken to the Governor's
house, where Job and each of the boys told the story
of their experiences in Bonnet's company. These stories
were sworn to as affidavits and kept for use in the
coming trial of the pirate crew. It was a special dispen-
sation of the Governor's which allowed them to give
their evidence in this form instead of waiting in

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Charles Town for the court to sit, and needless to say
they were heartily glad of it. The formalities over,
Governor Johnson led the party into the adjoining
room. He motioned them to sit down and faced them
with a smile. "Now, my lads," said he, "the spoil taken
on the Royal James has been divided, and though, as
you may guess, it had to go a long way, there's a share
left for each of you." Jeremy and Bob stared at each
other and at their friends. The benign smiles of Mr.
Curtis, Colonel Rhett and Job showed that they had
known beforehand of this surprise. The Governor was
holding out a small leather sack in each hand. "Here,
catch," he laughed, and the two astonished lads auto-
matically did as they were bid. In each purse there was
something over twenty guineas in gold. Before they
had found words to thank the Governor he laughed
again merrily. "Never mind a speech of acceptance,"
said he. "Colonel Rhett, here, has something else for
you.

"Yes," replied the Colonel. "You see, there was a
deal of junk in the Captain's cabin that comes to me as
Admiral of the expedition. Td be much pleased if you
two lads would each pick out anything that pleases
you, as a personal gift from myself and Stede Bonnet."
As he spoke, he took the cloth cover from a table which
stood at one side. On it the boys saw a shining array
of small arms, some glass and silver decanters and a

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pile of books. The Colonel motioned Bob forward.
"Here you are, lad, take your choice," he said. Bob
stepped to the table and glanced over the weapons
eagerly. He finally selected a silver-mounted pistol
with the great pirate's name engraved on the butt, and
went with pride to show it to his father.

It was Jeremy's turn. He had no hesitation. From
the moment he had heard the offer his shining eyes had
been fastened upon one object, and now he went
straight to the table and picked up the biggest and
thickest of the heap of books, a great leather-bound
volume — Bunyan's ''Pilgrim's Progress." It is not the
least inexplicable fact in the career of the terrible Stede
Bonnet that he was a constant reader of such books as
this and the "Paradise Lost" of Milton. Bunyan's great
allegory had come at last into a place where it could
do more good than in the cabin book-shelf of a ten-gun
buccaneer. Jeremy, poor lad, uneducated save for the
rude lessons of his father and the training of the open,
had longed for books ever since he could remember.
He had affected a gruff scorn when Bob had spoken
from his well-schooled knowledge, but inwardly it had
been his sole ground for jealousy of the Delaware boy.
That ponderous leather book was read many times and
thoroughly in after years, and it became the foundation
of such a library as was not often met with in the
colonies. Job gave the lad an understanding smile and

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a pat on the back, for Jeremy had told him of his
passion for an education.

The four grown men drank each other's health and
separated with many hearty handclasps. An hour later
the Queen s anchor was up and she was moving out to
sea upon the tide, cheered vigorously from the docks
and saluted by every vessel she passed. The warm Sep-
tember dusk settled over the ocean. A soft land breeze
rustled in the shrouds, and the great sails filled with a
gentle flapping. Slowly the tall ship bowed herself to
the northeast and settled away on her course content-
edly, while the water ran with a smooth murmur be-
neath her forefoot. Jeremy, lying wide-eyed in his
bunk, where a single star shone through the open port,
thought it the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He
was homeward bound at last.

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T

CHAPTER XX

j/"!!" SPHERE were brave days aboard the Queen as she
voyaged up the coast — days of sun and light
winds when the boys sat lazily in the blue
shadow of the sails, looking off through half-closed
eyes toward the faint line of shore that appeared and
disappeared to leeward; or listened to Job's long tales
of adventure up and down the high seas; or fished
with hand-lines over the taffrail, happy if they pulled
up even a goggle-eyed flounder. Twice they ran into
fog, and on those days, when the wet dripped dismally
off the shrouds and the watch on deck sang mournful
airs in the gray gloom, the two lads settled into big
chairs in the cabin, beneath a mighty brass oil-lamp,
and while Bob sat bemused over Captain Dampier's
"Voyages," Jeremy fought Apollyon with that good
knight Christian, in "Pilgrim's Progress." But best of
all were the days of howling fair weather, when sky
and sea were deep blue and the wind boomed over out
of the west, and the scattered flecks of white cloud
raced with the flying spray below. Then all hands
would stand by to slack a sheet here or reef a sail there,
and Ghent, who was a bold sailor, would take the
kicking tiller with Job's help, and keep the big ship

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on her course, the last possible foot of canvas straining
at the yardarms. High along the weather rail, with the
wind screaming in their ears or down in the lee scuppers
where the white-shot green passed close below with a
roar and a rush, the boys would cling, yelling aloud
their exultation. It was more than the risk, more than
the dizzy movement that made them happy. With
every hour of that strong wind they were ten knots
farther north.

So they sailed; and one morning when the mist
cleared, Mr. Curtis led both boys to the port rail to
show them where the green head of Cape Henlopen
stood, abeam. "Thank God, Bob, my lad, you're here
to see the Delaware again I" he said huskily.

Up the blue bay they cruised in the fine October
weather and came in due time — a very long time it
seemed to some aboard — to the roadstead opposite
New Castle port. There was a boat over almost before
the anchor was dropped and a picked crew rowed the
Curtises, Job and Jeremy ashore as fast as they dared
without breaking oars. They drew up across the swirl-
ing tidewater to the foot of a long pier. It was black
with people who cheered continually, and somewhere
above the town a cannon was fired in salute, but all
Bob saw was a slender figure in white at the pier-edge
and all he heard was a woman's happy crying. A mes-
sage to his mother telling of his safety had been sent

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from Charles Town three weeks before, and there she
was to welcome him. There was a ladder further in
along the pier, but before they reached it some one had
thrown a rope and Bob swarmed up hand over hand.
Jeremy, stricken with a sudden shyness, watched the
happy, tearful scene that followed from the boat below.

Women had had small part in his own life. Since his
mother's death he had known a few in the frontier
settlements, and they had been good to him in a
friendly way, but this ecstatic mother-love was new
and it made him feel awkward and lonely.

It seemed that all Delaware colony must be at the
water front. Every soul in the little town and men
from miles around had turned out to welcome the re-
turning vessel, for the news of Bonnet's defeat had
been brought in, days before, by a Carolina coaster.
There was bunting over doorways and cheering in the
streets as the Governor's coach with the party of honor
drove up the main thoroughfare to the Curtis house.

When they were within and the laughing crowds
had dispersed, Bob's mother came to Jeremy, put her
hands on his shoulders and looked long into his face.
She was a frail slip of a woman, dark like her son, with
a sensitive mouth and big, black eyes full of courage.
Jeremy flushed a slow scarlet under her gaze, but his
eyes never flinched as he returned it.

"A fine boy," she said, at length, "and my own boy's

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good friend!" Then she smiled tenderly and kissed
him on the forehead. Jeremy was then and there won
over. All women were angels of light to him from that
moment.

That night, alone in the white wilderness of his first
four-poster, the poor New England boy missed his
mother very hard, more perhaps than he had ever
missed her before. He fell asleep on a pillow that was
wet in spots — and he was not ashamed.

In the days that followed nothing in Delaware Col-
ony was too good for the young heroes. Jeremy could
never understand just why they were heroes, but was
forced to give up trying to explain the matter to an
admiring populace. As for Bob, he gleefully accepted
all the glory that was offered and at last persuaded
Jeremy to take the affair as philosophically as himself.
They were in a fair way to be spoiled, but fortunately
there was enough sense of humor between them to
bring them off safe from the head-patting gentlemen
and tearfully rapturous ladies who gathered at the
brick house of afternoons.

Perhaps the thing that really saved them from the
effects of too much petting was the trip up the Brandy-
wine to the Curtis plantation. It was a fine ride of
thirty miles and the trail led through woods just turn-
ing red and yellow with the autumn frosts. Jeremy,
though he had been on a horse only half a dozen times

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in his life, was a natural athlete and without fear.
He was quick to learn and imitated Bob's erect carriage
and easy seat so well that long before they had reached
their journey's end he backed his tall roan like an
old-timer. With Job it was a different matter. He was
all sailor, and though the times demanded that every
man who travelled cross-country must do it in the
saddle, the lank New Englander would have ridden a
gale any day in preference to a steed. Even Jeremy
could afford to laugh at the sorry figure his big friend
made.

The trail they followed was no more than a rough
cutting, eight or ten feet wide, running through the
forest. Here and there paths branched off to right or
left and up one of these Bob turned at noon. It led
them over a wooded hill, then down a long slope into
the valley of a stream. "John Cantwell's plantation.
We'll stop here for a bite to eat," explained the boy.
By the water side, in a wide clearing, was a group of
log huts and farther along, a square house built of
rough gray stone.

They rode up to the wide door which looked down
upon the river. In answer to Bob's hail a colored boy
in a red jacket ran out to take the horses' heads and
four black and white fox terriers tore round the corner
barking a chorus of welcome. Bob jumped down with a
laughing, *'Ah there, RufusI" to the horse-boy, and

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proceeded to roll the excited little dogs on their backs.
As Jeremy and Job dismounted, a big man in sober
gray came to the doorway. His strong, kindly face
broke into a smile as he caught sight of his visitors.
"Well, Bob, I'm mightily glad to see thee back, lad!
We got news from the town only yesterday." He
strode down the steps and took the boy's hand in a
hearty grip, then greeted the others, as Bob introduced
them. Jeremy marvelled much at the cut of the man's
coat, which was without a collar, and at his continual
use of the plain thee and thy. But there was a direct
simplicity about all his ways, and a gentleness in his
eyes that won the boy to him instantly.

One moment only he wondered at John Cantwell.
In the next he had forgotten everything about him and
stood open-mouthed, gazing at the square doorway.
In the sun-lit frame of it had appeared a little girl of
twelve. She was dressed demurely in gray, set off with
a bit of white kerchief. Her long skirt hid her toes and
her hands were folded most properly. But above this
sober stalk bloomed the fairest face that Jeremy had
ever seen. She had merry hazel eyes, a straight little
nose and a firm chin. Her plain bonnet had fallen
back from her head and the brown curls that strayed
recklessly about her cheeks seemed to catch all the sun-
beams in Delaware.

For a very little time she stood, and then the pursed

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red mouth could be controlled no longer. She opened
it in a whoop of joy and catching up her skirts ran to
smother Bob in a great hug. Next moment Jeremy, still
in a daze, was bowing over her hand, as he had learned
to do at New Castle. She dropped him a little curtsey
and turned to meet Job.

Betty Cantwell and her father were Quakers from
the Penn Colony to the north. Bob had time to tell
Jeremy as they entered. That accounted for the staid
simplicity of their dress and their quaint form of speech
— the plain language, as it was called. Jeremy had
heard of the Quakers, though in New England they
were much persecuted for their beliefs by the Puritans.
Here, apparently, people not only allowed them to
live, but liked and honored them as well. He prayed
fervently that Betty might never chance to visit
Boston town. Yet already he half hoped that she
would. Of course, he would have grown bigger by then,
and would carry a sword and how he would prick the
thin legs of the first grim deacon who dared so much
as to speak to her I These imaginings were put to rout
at the dining-room door by the delicious savour of
roast turkey. One of the black farmhands had shot the
great bird the day before, and the three travellers had
arrived just at the fortunate moment when it was to
be carved.

It was a dinner never to be forgotten. The twenty

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miles they had ridden through the crisp air would have
given them an appetite, even had they not been nor-
mally good trenchermen, and there were fine white
potatoes and yams that accompanied the turkey, not
to mention some jelly which Betty admitted having
made herself, "with cook's help." Bob joyfully attacked
his heaped-up plate and ate with relish every minute
that he was not talking. Jeremy could say not a word,
for opposite him was Betty and in her presence he felt
very large and awkward. His hands troubled him. In-
deed, had it been a possibility, he would have eaten his
turkey without raising them above the table edge. As
it was, he felt himself blush every time a vast red fist
came in evidence. Yet he succeeded in making a good
meal and would not have been elsewhere for all Solo-
mon Brig's gold. Perhaps Job, who was neither talka-
tive nor under the spell of a lady's eyes, wielded the
best knife and fork of the three.

Dinner over, and Bob's story finished, they were
taken to see the stable and the broad tilled fields by the
river bank, where corn stood shocked among the
stubble. Afternoon came and soon it was time for them
to start. There were laughing farewells and a promise
that they would stop on the return trip, and before
Jeremy could come back to earth the gloom of the
forest shut in above their heads once more. They put
the horses to a canter as soon as the ridge was cleared,

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for there were still ten miles to go and the light was
waning. Jeremy was very much at home in the woods,
but the chill, sombre depths that appeared and reap-
peared on either hand seemed to warn him to be pre-
pared. He reached to the saddlebow, undid the flap
of the pistol holster, and made sure that his weapon
was loaded, then put it back, reassured. The footing
was bad, and they had to go more slowly for a while.
Then Bob, in the lead, came to a more open space where
light and ground alike favored better speed. He
spurred his horse to a gallop and had turned to call
to the others, when suddenly the animal he rode gave
a snort of fear and stopped with braced forefeet. Bob,
caught off his guard, went over the horse's head with
a lurch and fell sprawling on the ground in front. Then
he gave a scream, for not two feet away he saw the
short, cruel head of a coiled rattlesnake.

Jeremy, riding close behind, pulled up beside the
other horse and threw himself off. Even as he touched
the ground a sharp whirr met his ear and he saw the
fat, still body and vibrating tail of the snake. He
wrenched the pistol from the holster, took the quickest
aim of his life and pulled the trigger. After the shot
apparently nothing had changed. The whirr of the
rattle went on for a second or two, then gradually
subsided. Bob lay white-faced, and still as death.
Jeremy drew a step closer and then gave a choked cry

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of relief. The snake's smooth, diamond-marked body
remained coiled for the spring. Its lithe forepart was
thrust forward from the top coil and the venomous,
blunt head — but the head was no more. Jeremy's ball
had taken it short off.

Bob was unhurt, but badly shaken and frightened,
and they followed the trail slowly through the dusk.
Then just as the shadows that obscured their way were
turning to the deep dark of night a small light became
visible straight ahead. They pushed on and soon were
luxuriously stretched before a log fire in the Curtis
plantation house, while Mrs. Robbins, the overseer's
wife, poured them a cup of hot tea.

When bedtime came, Bob came over to Jeremy and
gave him a long grip of the hand, but said never a
word. There was no need of words, for the New Eng-
land boy knew that his chum would never be quite
happy till he could repay his act in kind. Yet he could
not tell Bob that the shooting of a snake was but a
small return for the gift of a vision of one of heaven's
angels. Each felt himself the other's debtor as they got
into the great feather bed side by side.

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CHAPTER XXIV

y WN^HOUGH no great or grave adventure befell the
two boys while they stayed at the plantation,
the days they spent together were more than
full. Back of the farm buildings lay the fields, all up
and down the river bank for miles. And back of the
fields, crowding close to the edge of the plowed ground,
the big trees of an age-old forest rose. The great wild
woods ran straight back from the plantation for five
hundred miles, broken only by rivers and the steep
slopes of the Alleghenies, as yet hardly heard of by
white men. Giant oaks, ashes and tulip trees mingled
with the pine and hemlock growth. The hillsides where
the sun shone through were thick with rhododendron
and laurel. And all through this sylvan paradise the
upper branches and the underbrush teemed with wild
life. Squirrels, partridges and occasional turkeys of-
fered frequent marks for the long muzzle-loading
rifles, while a thousand little song birds flitted con-
stantly through the leaves. Jeremy had never seen
such hunting in his colder northern country. The game
was bigger and more dangerous in New England, but
never had he found it so plentiful. As the boys were
both good marksmen, a great rivalry sprang up between

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them. They scorned any but the hardest shots — the
bright eye of a squirrel above a hickory limb fifty yards
off or the downy form of a wood pigeon preening in a
tree top. Though a good deal of powder and lead was
spent in the process, they were shooting like old leather-
stocking hunters by the end of the week.

The last two days had to be spent indoors, for a
heavy autumn rain that came one night held over
persistently and drenched the valley with a sullen,
steady pour. Little muddy rivulets swept down across
the fields and joined the already swollen current of
the Brandywine. On the morning when they started
back, the river was running high and fast and yellow
along the low banks, but a bright sun shone, and a
fresh breeze out of the west promised fair weather.

The horses were left at the plantation. They took
their guns and a day's provisions and carried a long,
narrow-beamed canoe down to the shore. It was a dug-
out, quite unlike the graceful birch affairs that Jeremy
had seen among the Penobscots, but serviceable and
seaworthy enough.

Job, happy to be on the water once more, took the
stern paddle. Bob knelt in the bow, and Jeremy
squatted amidships with the blankets and guns. With
a cry of farewell to the kindly folk on the bank, they
shoved out and shot away down the swift river.

It was exciting work. The stream had overflowed its

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

banks for many yards and the brown water swirled in
eddies among the trees. To keep the canoe in the main
channel required judgment and good steering. Job
proved equal to the occasion and though with their
paddling the swiftness of the current gave the craft a
speed of over ten miles an hour, he brought her down
without mishap into a wide-spreading cove. They
rested, drifting slowly across the slack water. "This
can't be far from Cantwell's," Bob was saying, when
Jeremy gave a startled exclamation, and pointed
toward the shore, some fifty yards away. A little girl
in a gray frock stood on the bank, her arms full of
golden rod and asters. She had not seen the canoe, for
she was looking behind her up the bank. At that instant
there was a crashing in the brush and a big buck deer
stepped out upon the shore, tossing his gleaming antlers
to which a few shreds of summer "velvet" still clung.
He was not twenty feet from the girl, who faced him,
perfectly still, the flowers dropping one by one from
her apron.

It was the rutting season and the buck was in a
fighting mood. But he was puzzled by this small mo-
tionless antagonist. He hesitated a bare second before
launching his wicked charge. Then as he bellowed his
defiance there came a loud report. The buck's haunches
wavered, then straightened with a jerk, as he made a
great leap up the bank and fell dead. From Jeremy's
long-barrelled gun a wisp of smoke floated away. Betty

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Cantwell sat down very suddenly and seemed about
to cry, but as the canoe shot up to the shore she was
smiling once more. They took her aboard and started
downstream again. A few hundred yards brought
them to the edge of the Cantwell clearing, where Bob
hailed the negroes working in the field and gave them
orders for bringing down the dead buck.

At the landing John Cantwell was waiting in some
anxiety, for the sound of Jeremy's shot had reached
him at the house. Bob told the story, somewhat to
Jeremy's embarrassment, for nothing was spared in the
telling. The Quaker thanked him with great earnest-
ness and reproved his daughter gently for straying be-
yond the plantation.

After another of those famous dinners Job and the
boys returned to their craft, for there were many miles
to make before night. As Jeremy took up the bow
paddle he waved to Betty on the bank, and thrilled
with happiness at the shy smile she gave him. Once
again they were in the current, shooting downstream
toward tidewater.

It was mid-afternoon when they crossed the Brandy-
wine bar and paddled past the docks of Wilmington.
Outside in the Delaware there was a choppy sea that
made their progress slower, and the sun had set when
the slim little craft ran in for the beach above New
Castle. The voyagers shouldered their packs and made
their way up the High Street to the brick house.

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When the greetings were over and the boys were
changing their clothes before coming down for supper,
Clarke Curtis entered their room. "Lads," he said, "I'd
advise you to go early to bed tonight. You'll need a
long rest, for in the morning you start overland for
New York." At Bob's exclamation of surprise he went
on to explain that the Indian Queen had weighed
anchor two days before for that port, and as there was
no other ship leaving the Delaware soon, he wished the
boys to board her at New York for the voyage to New
England. Both youngsters were overjoyed at the pros-
pect of an early start. Bob, who had been promised
that he could accompany his chum, was hilarious over
the news, while Jeremy was too happy to speak.

Later, as they were packing their belongings for the
trip. Job Howland came in. He, too, looked excited.
"Jeremy, boy," he said, "Ed have liked to go north
with you, but something else has come my way. Mr.
Curtis bought a new schooner, the Tiger, last week,
and she's being fitted out now for a coast trader. He
offered me the chance to command her I"

"Three cheers I" shouted Bob. "Then New Castle
will be your home port, and Ell see you after every
voyage I"

The three comrades chatted of their prospects awhile
and shortly went to bed.

184

T

CHAPTER XXV

y^ Ij- >^HE boys and their luggage were on their way
to Wilmington in the family chaise before
dawn, and it was scarce seven o'clock when
they bade farewell to the old colored serving-man and
clambered aboard the four-horse coach that connected
in Philadelphia with the mail coach for New York.

The coaches of that day were cumbersome affairs,
huge of wheel, and with ridiculously small bodies slung
on wide strips of bull's hide which served for springs.
The driver's box was high above the forward running
gear. There were as yet no "seats on top," such as were
developed in the later days of fast stage-coach service.

In one of these rumbling, swaying conveyances the
boys rode the thirty miles to Philadelphia, crossing the
Schuylkill at Gray's Ferry about noon. They had barely
time for a bite of lunch in the White Horse Tavern
before the horn was blown outside and they hurried
to take their places in the north-bound coach. Along
the cobbled streets of the bustling, red-brick town they
rumbled for a few moments, then out upon the smooth
dirt surface of the York Road, where the four good
horses were put to a gallop.

The Delaware, opposite Trenton, was reached by

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

six o'clock, and there the half-dozen passengers left
the coach and were carried across on a little ferry boat,
rowed by an old man and his two sons. They spent the
night at an Inn and next morning early boarded an-
other coach bound northeast over the sparsely settled
hills of New Jersey. The road was narrow and bad in
places, slackening their speed. Twice the horses were
changed, in little hamlets along the way. In the late
afternoon they crossed the marshy flats beyond Newark
and just after dusk emerged on the Jersey side of the
Hudson. A few lights glimmered from the low Man-
hattan shore. The quaint Dutch-English village which
was destined to grow in two hundred years to be the
greatest city in the world, lay quiet in the gathering
dark.

The ferry was just pulling out from shore, but at the
sound of the coach horn it swung back into its slip
and waited for the passengers to board.

A gruff Hollander by the name of Peter Houter was
the ferryman. He stood at the clumsy steering-beam,
while four stout rowers manned the oars of his wide,
flat-bottomed craft. Approaching the steersman. Bob
asked where in the town he would be likely to find the
Captain of a merchantman then taking cargo in the
port. The Dutchman named two taverns at which visit-
ing seafaring men could commonly be found. One was
the "Three Whales" and the other the ''Bull and Fish/'

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Landing on the Manhattan shore, the boys shoul-
dered their luggage and trudged by ill-lighted lanes
across the island to the East River. As they advanced
along the dock-side, Jeremy distinguished among the
low-roofed houses a small inn before which a great
sign swung in the wind. By the light which flickered
through the windows they could make out three dark
monsters painted upon the board, a white tree appar-
ently growing from the head of each. "The Three
Whales," laughed Jeremy, "and every one a-blowingi
Let's go in I"

It was an ill-smelling and dingy room that they en-
tered. A score of men in rough sailor clothes lounged
at the tables or lolled at the bar. Two pierced tin lan-
terns shed a faint smoky light over the scene. Bob
waited by their baggage at the door, while Jeremy
made his way from one group to another, inquiring for
Captain Ghent of the Indian Queen. Several of the
mariners nodded at mention of the ship, but none could
give him word of the skipper's whereabouts.

As he was turning to go out he noticed a man drink-
ing alone at a table in the darkest corner. His eyes were
fixed moodily on his glass and he did not look up.
Jeremy shivered, took a step nearer, and almost cried
out, for he had caught a glimpse of a livid, diagonal
scar cutting across the nose from eyebrow to chin. It
was such a scar as could belong to only one man on

187

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

earth. Jeremy retreated to a darker part of the room
and watched till the man lifted his head. It was
Pharaoh Daggs and none other.

A moment later the boy had hurried to Bob outside
and told him his news. "If we can find Ghent," said
Bob, "he will be able to summon soldiers and have him
placed under arrest."

They hastened along the river front for a hundred
yards or more and came to the "Bull and Fish." A man
in a blue cloth coat was standing by the door, looking
up and down the street. He gave a hail of greeting as
they came up. It was Captain Ghent.

"I was just going down to the 'Three Whales' think-
ing you might have stopped there," he said. Bob
told him their news and the skipper's face grew grave.
"Better leave the bags here for the present," he sug-
gested and then, after a moment's quiet talk with the
landlord, he led the way toward the other tavern. On
the way he stopped a red-jacket soldier who was patrol-
ling the dock. After a word or two had been exchanged
the soldier fell in beside them, and just as they reached
the inn door two more hurried up.

"Come in with me, Jeremy, and point out the man,"
said Captain Ghent.

The lad's heart beat like a triphammer as he entered
the tavern once more. A silence fell on the room when
the three soldiers were observed. Jeremy crossed toward

188

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the dark corner. The table was empty. He looked
quickly about at the faces of the drinkers, but Daggs
was not there. "He's gone," he said in a disappointed
voice.

The innkeeper came forward, wiping his hands on
his apron. "That fellow with the scar'?" he said. "He
went out of here some five minutes ago."

"Which way?" asked Ghent. But no one in the room
could say.

They passed out again, and Ghent smiled reassur-
ingly at the boys. "Well," he said, "like as not he'll
never cross our path again, so it's only one rogue the
more unhung."

Jeremy failed to find much comfort in this phi-
losophy, but said no more, and soon found himself
snugly on board the big merchantman, where his bunk
and Bob's were already made up and awaiting them.

It was good to hear the creak of timbers and feel
the rocking of the tide once more. Jeremy lay long
awake that night thinking of many things. At last he
was on the final lap of his journey. The Indian Queen's
cargo would be stowed within a day or two and she
would start with him toward home. He thought with a
quiver of happiness of the reunion with his father.
Had he quite given up hope for his boy? Jeremy had
heard of such a shock of joy being fatal. He must be
careful.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

He thought of the evil face of the broken-nosed buc-
caneer. What was Daggs doing in New York^ Just
then there was a faint sound as of creaking cordage
from beyond the side. Jeremy's bunk was near the open
port and by leaning over a little he could see the river.
Barely a boat's length away, in the dark, a tall-masted,
schooner-rigged craft was slipping past on the outgoing
tide, with not so much as a harbor-light showing.

190

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CHAPTER XXVI

IT WAS on the second morning after the boys had
reached New York that the Indian Queen went
down the harbor, her canvas drawing merrily in
the spanking breeze of dawn. The intervening day
had been spent at the dock-side, where wide-breeched
Dutch longshoremen were stoutly hustling bales and
boxes of merchandise into the hold. Jeremy had
watched the passers along the river front narrowly,
though he could not help having a feeling that Pharaoh
Daggs was gone. The fancy would not leave his mind
that there was some connection between the vanished
pirate and the dark vessel he had seen stealing out on
the night tide.

A strong southwest wind followed them all day as
the Queen ran past the low Long Island shore, and
that night, though Captain Ghent gave orders to
shorten sail, the ship still plunged ahead with un-
checked speed. They cleared the Nantucket shoals next
day and saw all through the afternoon the sun glint
on the lonely white dunes of Cape Cod.

Two more bright days of breeze succeeded and they
were working up outside the fringe of islands, large
and small, that dot the coast of Maine.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Jeremy was too excited even to eat. He stayed con-
stantly by the man at the helm and was often joined
there by Bob and the Captain, as they drew nearer to
the Penobscot Bay coast. In the morning they dropped
anchor in fifteen fathoms, to leeward of a good-sized
fir-clad island. Jeremy had a dim recollection of having
seen it from the round-topped peak above his father's
shack. His heart beat high at the thought that tomor-
row might bring them to the place they sought, and
it was many hours before he went to sleep.

At last the morning came, cloudless and bright, with
a little south breeze stirring. Before the sun was fairly
clear of the sea, the anchor had been catted, and the
Queen was moving gracefully northeastward under
snowy topsails.

They cleared a wide channel between two islands
and Jeremy, forward with the lookout, gave a mighty
shout that brought his chum to his side on the run.
There to the east, across a dozen miles of sea, loomed
a gray peak, round and smooth as an inverted bowl.
'It's the island I" cried Jeremy, and Captain Ghent,
turning to the mate, gave a joyful order to get more
sail on the ship.

About the middle of the forenoon the Queen came
into the wind and her anchor went down with a roar
and a splash, not three cables' lengths from the spot
in the northern bay where Jeremy and his father had

192

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

first landed their flock of sheep. On the gray slope
above the shore the boys could see the low, black
cabin, apparently tenantless. Behind it was the stout
stockade of the sheep-pen, also deserted, and above,
the thin grass and gray, grim ledges climbed toward the
wooded crest of the hill.

Jeremy's face fell. "They must have gone," he said.
But Bob, standing by the rail as they waited for the
jollyboat to be lowered, pointed excitedly toward the
rocky westward shoulder of the island. "Look there I"
he cried. Three or four white dots were moving slowly
along the face of the hill.

"Sheep I" said Jeremy, taking heart. "They'd not
have left the sheep — unless — "

But the boat was ready, below the side, and the
Captain and the two boys tumbled quickly in. Five
minutes later the four stout rowers sent the bow far
up the sand with a final heave on the oars. They
jumped out and hastened up the hill. There was still
no sign of life about the cabin, but as they drew near
a sudden sharp racket startled them, and around the
corner of the sheep-pen tore a big collie dog, barking
excitedly. He hesitated a bare instant, then jumped
straight at Jeremy with a whine of frantic welcome.

"Jock, lad I" cried the boy, joyfully burying his face
in the sable ruff of the dog's neck. In response to his
voice, the door of the cabin was thrown open and a tall

193

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

youth of nineteen stepped out, hesitating as he saw the
group below. Jeremy shook off the collie and ran for-
ward. "Don't you know me, Tom?" he laughed. "I'm
your brother — back from the pirates I"

The amazed look on the other's face slowly gave
place to one of half-incredulous joy as he gripped the
youngster's shoulders and looked long into his eyes.

"Know ye I" he said at length with a break in his
voice. "Certain I know ye, though ye've grown half a
foot it seems I But wait, we must tell father. He's in
bed, hurt."

Tom turned to the door again. "Here, father," he
called breathlessly. "Here's Jeremy, home safe and
sound I" He seized his brother's hand and led him into
the cabin. In the half-darkness at the back of the room
the lad saw a rough bed, and above the homespun
blankets Amos Swan's bearded face. He sprang toward
him and flung himself down by the bunk, his head
against his father's breast. He felt strong, well-remem-
bered fingers that trembled a little as they gripped his
arm. There was no word said.

194

CHAPTER XXVII

IT WAS the savory smell of cooking hominy and the
sizzle of broiling fish that woke Jeremy next morn-
ing. He drew a breath of pure ecstasy, rolled over
and began pummelling the inert form of Bob, who had
shared his blanket on an improvised bed in the cabin.
The Delaware boy opened an eye, closed it again with
carefully-assumed drowsiness, and the next instant
leaped like a joyful wildcat on his tormentor. There
was a beautiful tussle that was only broken off by
Tom's announcement of breakfast.

Opposite the stone fireplace was a table of hewn
planks at which Bob, with Jeremy, Tom and their
father, were soon seated. The latter had bruised his
knee several days before, but was now sufficiently re-
covered to walk about with the aid of a stick.

"Father," said Jeremy between mouthfuls, "I want
to see that cove again, where the pirates landed. If we
may take the fowling-piece, Bob and I'll go across the
island, after we've bade good-by to Captain Ghent."

"Ay, lad," Amos Swan replied, "you'll find the cove
just as they left it. An I mistake not, the place where
their fire was is still black upon the beach, and the
rum-barrels are lying up among the driftwood. 'Twas

195

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

there we found them — on the second day. Ah, Jeremy,
lad — little we thought then we'd see you back safe and
strong, and that so soon!"

The white frost of the November morning was still
gleaming on the grass when the two boys went out.
Against the cloudless sky the spires of the dark hr trees
were cut in clean silhouette. From the Indian Queen^
lying off shore, came the creak of blocks and sheaves
as the yards were trimmed, and soon, her anchor catted
home, she filled gracefully away to the northward,
while the Captain waved a cheery farewell from the
poop. He was bound up the coast for Halifax, and was
to pick Bob up on his return voyage, a month later.

When they had watched the ship's white sails dis-
appear behind the eastern headland, the boys started
up the hill behind the cabin. They carried a lunch of
bread and dried fish in a leather pouch and across
Jeremy's shoulder was one of his father's guns. Bob
was armed with the silver-mounted pistol from Stede
Bonnet's arsenal.

It was a glorious morning for a trip of exploration
and the hearts of both lads were high as they clambered
out on the warm bare rock that crowned the island.

'Tsn't it just as fine as I told you?" Jeremy cried.
"Look — those blue mountains yonder must be twenty
leagues away. And you can hardly count the islands in
this great bay I Off there to the south is where I saw

196

JHE BLACK BUCCANEER

the Revenge for the first time — just a speck on the sea,
she was!"

Bob, who had never seen the view from a really
high hill before, stood open-mouthed as he looked about
him. Suddenly he grasped Jeremy's arm.

"Seel" he exclaimed, "down there — isn't that
smoke?" He was pointing toward the low, swampy
region in the southwestern part of the island. Jeremy
watched intently, but there was nothing to disturb the
morning calm of sky and shore.

"That's queer," Bob said at last, with a puzzled
look. "I could take an oath I saw just the faintest wisp
of smoke over there. But I must have been mistaken."

"Well," laughed Jerry, "we'll soon make sure, for
that's not far from where we're going."

They scrambled down, and following the ridge,
turned south toward the lower bay at about the point
where Jeremy had been discovered by Dave Herriot
and the pirate Captain.

Dodging through the tangle of undergrowth and
driftwood, they soon emerged on the loose sand above
the beach. As Amos Swan had said, the rains had not
yet washed away the black embers of the great bon-
fire, and near by lay a barrel with staves caved in.
Looking at the scene, Jeremy almost fancied he could
hear again the wild chorus of that drunken crew, most
of whom had now gone to their last accounting.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

"What say we walk down the shore a way*?" sug-
gested Bob. "There might be a duck or two in that
reedy cove below here." And Jeremy, glad to quit the
place, led off briskly westward along the sand.

Soon they came to the entrance of a narrow, winding
tide-creek that ran back till it was hidden from sight
in the tall reeds. Just as they reached the place, a large
flock of sandpeeps flew over with soft whistling, and
lighting on the beach, scurried along in a dense com-
pany, offering an easy target. Bob, who was carrying
the gun, brought it quickly to his shoulder and was
about to fire when Jeremy stopped him with a low
o-s-s-s-t I

Bob turned, following the direction of Jeremy's out-
stretched arm, and for a second both boys stood as if
petrified, gazing up the tide-creek toward the interior
of the island. About a quarter of a mile away, above the
reeds, which grew in rank profusion to a man's height
or higher, they saw a pair of slender masts, canted far
over.

"A ship!" whispered Bob. "Deserted, though, most
likely."

"No," Jeremy answered, "I don't think it. Her
cordage would have slacked off more and she wouldn't
look so trim. Bob, wasn't it near here you saw that
smoke?"

"Jiminyl" said Bob, "so it was I Right over in the

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

marsh, close to those spars. It's some vessel that's put
in here to careen. Wonder where her crew can be?"

"That's what looks so queer to me," the other boy
replied. "They're keeping out of sight mighty careful.
Men from any honest ship would have been all over
the island the first day ashore. I don't like the look of
it. Let's get back and tell father. Maybe we can find
out who it is, afterwards."

Bob argued at first for an immediate reconnaissance,
but when Jeremy pointed out the fact that if the
strangers were undesirable they would surely have a
guard hidden in the reeds up the creek, he accepted the
more discreet plan.

They made their way quietly, but with as much haste
as possible back along the shore, past the remnant of
the fire, and up the hill into the thick woods.

Just as they crossed the ridge and began to see the
glint of the northern inlet through the trees, Jeremy
paused with a sudden exclamation.

"Here's the spring," he said, "and look at the sign
above it. I never saw that before, for it was dark when
I was up here. I almost fell in."

The spring itself was nearly invisible to one com-
ing from this direction, but stuck in the fork of a tree,
beside it, was a weathered old piece of ship's planking
on which had been rudely cut the single word watter.

"Some Captain who used to fill his casks here must

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

have put it up so that the spring would be easier to
find," Bob suggested. But Jeremy, striding ahead, was
thinking hard and did not answer.

Amos Swan heard their news with a grave face. No
ship but the Queen had touched at the island for sev-
eral months to his knowledge, he said. He agreed with
the boys that the secrecy of the thing looked suspicious.
When Tom came in for the noon meal, his father told
him of the discovery and they both decided to bring the
sheep in at once, and make preparations for possible
trouble.

Tom, armed, and accompanied by the boys, set out
soon after dinner for the western end of the island,
two miles from the shack. It was there that the flock
was accustomed to graze, shepherded by the wise dog,
Jock. Their way led along the rocky northern slope,
where the sheep had already worn well-defined paths
among the scrubby grass and juniper patches, then up
across a steep knoll and through a belt of fir and hem-
lock. When at length they came out from among the
trees, the pasture lay before them. There in a hollow
a hundred yards away the flock was huddled. Jock
became aware of their approach at that instant and
lifted his head in a short, choking bark. He started
toward them, but before he had taken a dozen steps
they could see that he was limping painfully. Running
forward, Jeremy knelt beside the big collie, then turned

200

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

with a movement of sudden dismay and called to his

comrades. He had seen the broad splotch of vivid red

that stained the dog's white breast. Examination

showed a deep clean cut in the fur of the neck, from

which the blood still flowed sluggishly. But in spite of

his weakness and the pain he evidently suffered, Jock

could hardly wait to lead his masters back to the flock.

Hurrying on with him they crossed a little rise of

ground and came upon the sheep which were crowded

close to one another, panting in abject terror.

"Twenty-six — twenty-eight — yes, twenty-eight and

that's all I" Tom said. "There are two of them miss-
is
mgl

Jock had limped on some twenty yards further and
now stood beside a juniper bush, shivering with eager-
ness.

Following him thither, the boys found him sniffing
at a blood-soaked patch of grass. The ground for sev-
eral feet around was cut up as if in some sort of
struggle. A few shreds of bloody wool, caught in the
junipers, told their own story.

A man — probably several men — had been on the
spot not two hours before and had killed two of the
sheep. They had not succeeded in this without a fight,
in which the gallant old dog had been stabbed with a
seaman's dirk or some other sharp weapon.

Bob, scouting onward a short distance, found the

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

deep boot-tracks of two men in a wet place between
some rocks. They were headed southeastward —
straight toward the reedy swamp where the boys had
seen the top-masts of the strange vessel I The crew —
whoever they might be — had decided to leave no
further doubt of their intentions. They had opened
hostilities and to them had fallen first blood.

With serious faces and guns held ready for an attack
the three lads turned toward home, driving the scared
flock before them. Old Jock, stiff and limping from
his wound, brought up the rear. They reached the inlet
at last, but it was sunset when the last sheep was inside
the stockade and the cabin door was barred.

That night the wind changed, and the cold gray
blanket of a Penobscot Bay fog shut down over the
island.

202

CHAPTER XXVIII

v

I

^HE fog held for two days. On the third morning
Jeremy, on his knees by the hearth fire, was
squinting down the bright barrel of a flintlock.
He had been quiet for a long time. Bob felt the tense-
ness of the situation himself, but he could not under-
stand the other's absolute silence. He scowled as he sat
on the floor, and savagely drove a long-bladed hunting-
knife into the cracks between the hewn planks. At
length a low whistle from Jeremy caused him to pause
and look up quickly.

"What is itr he asked.

A look of excitement was growing in Jeremy's
face.

"Say, Bob!" he exclaimed, after a second or two,
"I've just remembered something that I've been trying
to bring to mind ever since we crossed the island. You
know the sign we saw up by the spring'? Well, some-
where, once before, I knew I'd seen the word 'Watter'
spelled that way. So have you — do you remember^"

Bob shook his head slowly. Then a look of compre-
hending wonder came into his eyes. "Yes," he cried.
"It was on that old chart in Pharaoh Daggs' chest I"

"Right," said Jeremy. "And now that I think about

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

it, I believe this is the very island I Let's see — the bay
was shaped this way — " He had seized a charred stick
from the hearth and was drawing on the floor.

"Two narrow points, with quite a stretch of water
inside — a rounded cove up here, and a mitten-shaped
cove over here. And the anchor was drawn — wait a
minute — right here. Why, Bob, look here! That's the
same rounded cove with the beach where the sloop an-
chored that night they got me I"

Bob could hardly contain himself. "I remember I"
he said. "And the dot with the word 'Watter' was one
and a half finger-joints northeast of the bay. Let's see,
the bay itself was about four joints long, wasn't it? Or
a little over? Anyhow, that would put the spring
about — here."

"Allowing for our not being able to remember ex-
actly the shape of the bay," Jeremy put in, "that's just
where the spring should be. Bob, this u the island!
And now that cross-mark between the two straight
lines — two finger-joints northwest of the anchorage-
cove, it was. That's just about here." He marked the
spot on the floor with his stick.

"Now we've got it all down. And if that cross-mark
shows where the treasure is — " Jeremy paused and
looked at Bob, his eyes shining.

"Where would that be — up on the hill somewhere?"
asked Bob breathlessly.

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"About three-quarters of a mile south of the spring —
right on the ridge," Jeremy answered.

"When shall we start?" Bob asked, his voice husky
with excitement.

"Wait a bit," counselled Jeremy. "We daren't tell
father or Tom, for they'd think it just a wild-goose
chase, and we'd have to promise not to leave the cabin.
You know it is an improbable sort of yarn. Besides,
we'd better go careful. Do you know who I think is at
the head of that crew, over in the creek?"

"Who?" whispered Bob.

Jeremy's face was pale as he leaned close.

"Pharaoh Daggsl" He said the name beneath his
breath, almost as if he feared that the man with the
broken nose might hear him. And now for the first time
he told Bob of the schooner that had slipped past in the
dark that night in the East River.

"You're right, Jeremy," Bob agreed. "He'd lose
no time getting up here if he could find a craft to carry
him. You don't suppose they've found Brig's treasure
yet, do you?" he added in dismay.

"They can't have reached here more than a day
before us," Jeremy replied. "And if they haven't it
already aboard, they won't be able to do anything
while this fog holds. If it should lift tomorrow, we'll
have a chance to scout around up there. But don't say
a word to father."

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That night the boys slept little, for both were in a
fever of expectation. They were disappointed in the
morning to see the solid wall of fog still surrounding
the cabin. But Jeremy, sniffing the air like the true
woodsman that he was, announced that there would
be a change of weather before night, and set about
rubbing the barrel of the flintlock till it gleamed. The
day dragged slowly by. At last, about three in the after-
noon, a slight wind from the northeast sprang up, and
the wreaths of vapor began to drift away seaward.

Luckily for the boys' plans, both Tom and his father
were inside the sheep-stockade when Bob took the
pistols, powder and shot down from the wall, and went
quietly forth with Jeremy.

Before the mist had wholly cleared, they were well
into the woods, climbing toward the summit of the
ridge. Each kept a careful watch about, for they feared
the possibility that a guard might have been set to
observe movements at the cabin.

They reached the top without incident, however, and
turned westward along the watershed. They were in-
creasingly careful now, for if the pirates were de-
pendent on the spring for their water, some of them
might pass close by at any moment. Bob, who was
almost as expert a hunter as Jeremy, followed noise-
lessly in the track of the New England boy, moving
like a shadow from tree to tree.

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So they progressed for fifteen minutes or more. Then
Jeremy paused and beckoned to Bob, whispering that
they should separate a short distance so as to cover a
wider territory in their search. They went on, Bob on
the north slope, Jeremy on the south, moving cau-
tiously and examining every rock and tree for some
blaze that might indicate the whereabouts of the
treasure.

More minutes passed. The sun was already low, and
Jeremy began to think about turning toward home.
Just then he came to the brink of a narrow chasm in
the ledge. Hardly more than a cleft it was, three or
four feet wide at its widest part, and extending deep
down between the walls of rock. He was about to jump
over and proceed when his eye caught a momentary
gleam in the obscurity at the bottom of the crevice. He
peered downward for a second, then stood erect, wav-
ing to Bob with both arms.

The other boy caught his signal and came rapidly
through the trees to the spot, hurrying faster as he saw
the excitement in Jeremy's face.

"What — what have you found?" he gasped under
his breath.

Jeremy was already wriggling his way down be-
tween the smooth rock walls, bracing himself with
back and knees. Within a few seconds he had reached
the bottom, some ten feet below. It was a sloping, un-

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even floor of earth, lighted dimly from above and from
the south, where the ledge shelved off down the hillside.
The dirt was black and damp, undisturbed for years
save by the feeble pushing of some pale, seedling plant.
Jeremy groped aimlessly at first, then, as his eyes be-
came accustomed to the half-light, peered closely into
the crevices along either side.

Bob leaned over the edge, pointing. "Back and to
the left!" he whispered. Jeremy turned as directed, felt
along the earth and finally clutched at something that
seemed to glitter with a yellow light. He turned his
face upward and Bob read utter disappointment in his
eyes.

The gleaming something which he held aloft was
nothing but a bit of discolored mica that had reflected
the faint light.

Bob almost groaned aloud as he looked at it. Then
he took off his belt and passed an end of it down for
Jeremy to climb up by. The latter took hold half-heart-
edly, and was commencing the ascent when his moc-
casined foot slipped on a low, arching hump in the
damp earth. He went down on one knee and as it struck
the ground there was a faint hollow thud. Astonished,
the boy remained in a kneeling posture and felt about
beneath him with his hands.

''What is it?" whispered Bob.

Jeremy stood erect again. "Some kind of old, slip-

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pery wet wood," he answered. ''It feels like — like a
barrel I"

"I'm coming down I" said the Delaware boy, and
casting a cautious look around, he descended into the
depths of the crevice.

With their hands and hunting-knives both boys went
to work feverishly to unearth the wooden object. A
few moments of breathless labor laid bare the side and
part of one end of a heavily-built, oaken keg.

"Now maybe we can lift it out," said Jeremy, and
taking a strong grip of the edge, they heaved mightily
together. It stirred a bare fraction of an inch in its bed.
"Again!" panted Jeremy, and they made another des-
perate try. It was of no avail. The keg seemed to weigh
hundreds of pounds.

Mopping his forehead with his sleeve. Bob stood up
and looked his companion in the face. "Well," he
grinned, "the heavier the better I" "Right I" Jeremy
agreed. "But howTl we get it home? We don't dare
chop it open — too much noise — or set fire to it, for
they'd see the smoke. Besides it's too damp to burn.
Here — I'll see what's in it, yet I"

He crouched at the end of the barrel, whetted his
hunting-knife on his palm a few times, and began to
cut swiftly at a crack between two staves. Gradually
the blade worked into the wood, opening a long narrow
slot as Jeremy whittled away first at one side, then at

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the other. From time to time either he or Bob would
stoop, trembling with excitement to peer through the
crack, but it was pitch-dark inside the barrel.

Jeremy kept at his task without rest, and as his knife
had more play, the shavings he cut from the sides of
the opening grew thicker and thicker. First he, then
Bob, would try, every few seconds, to thrust a fist
through the widening hole.

At length Bob's hand, which was a trifle smaller than
Jeremy's, squeezed through. There was a breathless
instant, while he groped within the keg, and then, with
a struggle he pulled his hand forth. In his fingers he
clutched a broad yellow disc.

''Gold!"

They gasped the word together.

Bob's face was awe-struck. 'Tt's full of 'em — full of
pieces like this," he whispered, "right up to within
four inches of the topi"

They bent over the huge gold coin. The queer char-
acters of the inscription, cut in deep relief, were
strange to both boys. Jeremy had seen Spanish doub-
loons and the great double moidores of Portugal, but
never such a piece as this. It was nearly two inches
across and thick and heavy in proportion.

One after another Bob drew out dozens of the shin-
ing coins, and they filled their pockets with them till
they felt weighted down. At length Jeremy, looking up,

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was startled to see that the sun had set and darkness
was rapidly settling over the island. They threw dirt
over the barrel, then with all possible speed clambered
forth, and taking up their guns, made their way home
as quietly as they had come.

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CHAPTER XXIX

*T\. "y^' LA^' ^^^ risk is too great. Ye'd be in worse
^S^ plight than before, if they caught ye, and
with a score of the ruffians searching the
island over, ye'd run too long a chance. Better be satis-
fied with what's here, and stay where we can at least
defend ourselves."

Amos Swan was speaking. On the deal table before
him, a heap of great goldpieces gleamed in the firelight,
while seated around the board were his two sons and
Bob.

It was Tom who answered. "True enough, father,"
he said, "and yet this gold is ours. We own the island
by the Governor's grant. If we sit idle the pirates will
surely find the treasure and make off with it. But if we
go up there at night, as Jeremy suggests, the risk we
run will be smaller, and every time we make the trip
we'll add a thousand guineas to that pile there. Think
of it, father."

The elder man frowned thoughtfully. "Well," he
said at length, "if you go with them, Tom, and you
go carefully, at night, we'll chance it, once at least.
Not tonight, though. It's late now and you all need
sleep. I'll take the first watch."

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At about ten o'clock of the evening following,
Jeremy, Bob and Tom stole out and up the hill in the
darkness. They were well armed but carried no lantern,
the boys being confident of their ability to find the cleft
in the ledge without a light. A half hour's walking
brought them near the spot, and Jeremy, who had al-
most an Indian's memory for the "lay of the ground,"
soon led the way to the edge of the chasm. Dim star-
light shone through the gap in the trees above the ledge,
but there was only darkness below in the pit. One by
one they felt their way down and at last all three stood
on the damp earth at the bottom. "Here's the barrel —
just as we left it. They haven't been here yet I" Jeremy
whispered.

Working as quickly and as quietly as he could. Bob
reached into the opening in the keg and pulled out the
gold, piece by piece, while the others, taking the coins
from his fingers, filled their pockets, and the leather
pouches they had brought.

It was breathlessly exciting work, for all three were
aware of the danger that they ran. When finally they
crawled forth, laden like sumpter-mules, the perspira-
tion was thick on Jeremy's forehead. Knowing the char-
acter of Pharaoh Daggs so well, he realized, better
probably than either of his companions, what fate they
might expect if they were discovered. So far, appar-
ently, the pirates had not thought of setting a night

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guard on the ridge. If they continued to neglect this
precaution and failed to find the treasure themselves,
three more trips would —

His calculations were interrupted by the sudden
snapping of a twig. He stopped, instantly on the alert.
Behind him Tom and Bob had also paused. Neither of
them had caused the sound. It had seemed to come from
the thick bush down hill to the right. For an endlessly
long half-minute the three held their breath, listening.
Then once more something crackled, farther away this
time, and in a more southwesterly direction.

Man or animal, whatever it was that made the
sounds, was moving rapidly away from them.

Jeremy hunched the straps of his heavy pouch higher
up on his shoulder and led on again, faster than be-
fore, and hurrying forward in Indian iile, they reached
the cabin without further adventure.

All through the next day they stood watch and watch
at the shack, ready for the attack which they expected
to develop sooner or later. But still it appeared that
the pirates preferred to keep out of sight. The boys had
told Amos Swan of the noises they had heard the pre-
vious night and he had listened with a grave coun-
tenance. It could hardly have been other than one of
the pirates, he thought, for he was quite certain that
except for a few rabbits, there were no wild animals
upon the island. "Still," he said, "if you were moving

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quietly, there's small reason to believe the man knew
you were near. If he did know and made such a
noise as that, he must have been a mighty poor woods-

man:

The boys, anxious that nothing should prevent an-
other trip to the treasure-keg, accepted this logic with-
out demur.

The following night Amos Swan decided to go with
the boys himself, leaving Tom on guard at the cabin.
As before, they armed themselves with guns, pistols
and hunting-knives and ascended the hillside in the
inky dark. There were no stars in sight and a faint
breeze that came and went among the trees foreboded
rain. This prospect of impending bad weather made
itself felt in the spirits of the three treasure-hunters.
Jeremy, accustomed as he was to the woods, drew a
breath of apprehension and looked scowlingly aloft as
he heard the dismal wind in the hemlock tops. Ugh I
He shook himself nervously and plunged forward
along the hillcrest. A few moments later they were
gathered about the barrel at the bottom of the cleft.

It was even darker than they had found it on their
previous visit. Jeremy and his father had to grope in
the pitchy blackness for the coins that Bob held out
to them. Their pockets were about half-full when there
came a whispered exclamation from the Delaware boy.

"There's some sort of box in here, buried in the

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

gold I" he said. "It's too big to pull out through the
hole. Where's your dirk, Jeremy?"

The latter knelt astride the keg, and working in the
dark, began to enlarge the opening with the blade of
his hunting-knife. After a few minutes he thrust his
hand in and felt the box. It was apparently of wood,
covered with leather and studded over with scores of
nails. Its top was only seven or eight inches wide by less
than a foot long, however, and in thickness it seemed
scarcely a hand's breadth.

Big cold drops of rain were beginning to fall as
Jeremy resumed his cutting. He made the opening
longer as well as wider, and at last was able by hard
tugging to get the box through. He thrust it into his
pouch and they recommenced the filling of their pockets
with goldpieces.

Before a dozen coins had been removed a sudden
red glare on the walls of the chasm caused the three to
leap to their feet. At the same instant the rain increased
to a downpour, and they looked up to see a pine-knot
torch in the opening above them splutter and go out.
The wet darkness came down blacker than before.

But in that second of illumination they had seen
framed in the torchlit cleft a pair of gleaming light
eyes and a cruelly snarling mouth set in a face made
horrible by the livid scar that ran from chin to eye-
brow across its broken nose.

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Jeremy clutched at Bob and his father. "This way!"
he gasped through the hissing rain, and plunged along
the black chasm toward the southern end, where it de-
bouched upon the hillside. They clambered over some
boulders and emerged in the undergrowth, a score of
yards from the point where the barrel had been found.

"Come on," whispered Jeremy hoarsely, and started
eastward along the slope. Burdened as they were, they
ran through the woods at desperate speed, the noise of
their going drowned by the descending flood.

In the haste of flight it was impossible to keep to-
gether. When Jeremy had put close to half a mile be-
tween himself and the chasm, he paused panting and
listened for the others, but apparently they were not
near. He decided to cut across the ridge, and started
up the hill, when he heard a crash in the brush just
above him. "Father?" he called under his breath. To
his dismay he was answered by a startled oath, and the
next moment he saw a tall figure coming at him swing-
ing a cutlass. The pirate was a bare ten feet away. Jer-
emy aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger, but only
a dull click responded. The priming was wet.

At that instant the cutlass passed his head with an
ugly sound and Jeremy, desperate, flung his pistol
straight at the pirate's face. As it left his hand he heard
it strike. Then as the man went down with a groan, he
doubled in his tracks like a hare, and ran back, head-
ing up across the hill.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

It was not till he was over the ridge and well down
the slope toward home that he dropped to a walk. His
breath was coming in gasps that hurt him like a knife
between his ribs, and his legs were so weak he could
hardly depend on them. He had run nearly two miles,
up hill and down, in heavy clothes drenched with rain,
and carrying a dozen pounds of gold besides the flint-
lock fowling-piece which he still clutched in his left
hand. Somewhere behind him he had dropped the box,
found amid the treasure, but he was far too tired to
look for it. More dead than alive he crawled, at last,
up to the door of the cabin and staggered in when Tom
opened to his knock.

While he gasped out his story, the older brother
looked more closely to the barring of the window-
shutters and put fresh powder in the priming-pans of
the guns.

Ten minutes after Jeremy, his father appeared, wet
to the skin and with a grim look around his bearded
jaws. He, too, was spent with running, but he would
have gone out again at once when he heard that Bob
was still missing if the boys had not dissuaded him.
Jeremy was sure that if Bob had escaped he would soon
reach the cabin, for he had the lay of the island well in
mind now.

And so, while Tom kept watch, they lay down with
their clothes on before the fire.

219

CHAPTER XXX

T

■^HE gray November morning dawned damp and
cold. In the sheer exhaustion that followed on
their adventure of the night before, Jeremy
and his father slept heavily till close to nine o'clock,
when Tom wakened them. His face was haggard with
watching, and he looked so worried that they had no
need to ask him if Bob had come in.

It was a gloomy party that sat down to the morning
meal. The youngest could eat nothing for thinking of
his chum's fate. While his father still spoke hopefully
of the possibility that the boy might have found a hid-
ing place which he dared not leave, Jeremy could only
remember the frightful, scarred visage of Pharaoh
Daggs looming in the torchlight. He knew that Bob
would find little mercy behind that cruel face, and he
could not throw off the conviction that the lad had
fallen into the clutches of the pirates.

All day, standing at the loopholes, they waited for
some sign either of Bob's return, or, what seemed more
probable, an attack by the buccaneer crew. But as the
hours passed no moving form broke the dark line of
trees above them on the slope.

At length the dusk fell, and they gave up hope of

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

seeing the boy again, though on the other score their
vigilance was redoubled. The night went by, however,
as quietly as though the island were deserted.

It was about two hours after sunrise that Jeremy
stole out to give fodder to the sheep, penned in the
stockade ever since the first alarm. He had been gone
a bare two minutes when he rushed back into the cabin.

"Look, father," he cried. 'Tn the bay — there's a sloop
coming in to anchor I"

Amos Swan went to a northern loophole, and peered
forth. "What is she'? Can ye make her out? Seems to
fly the British Jack all right," he said. Following the
two boys, he hurried outside. Jeremy had run down the
hill to the beach where he stood, gazing intently at the
craft, and shading his eyes with his hand. After a mo-
ment he turned excitedly. "Father," he shouted, "it's
the Tiger! I saw her only once, but I'd not forget those
fine lines of her. Look — there's Job, himself, getting
into the cutter I"

A big man in a blue cloak had just stepped into the
stern sheets of the boat, and seeing the figures on the
shore, he now waved a hand in their direction.

Sure enough, in three minutes Captain Job How-
land jumped out upon the sand and with a roar of
greeting caught Jeremy's hand in his big fist. "Well,
lad," he laughed, "ye look glad to see us. Didn't know
we was headed up this way, did ye ? But here we be I

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Soon as the sloop was ready Mr. Curtis had a light
cargo for Boston town, and he told me to coast up here
on the same trip. He wants Bob home again. Why —
what ails ye, boyT'

They were climbing the path toward the shack, when
Job noticed the downcast look on Jeremy's face, and
interrupted himself.

In a few words the boy told what had happened dur-
ing the brief week they had been on the island.

''By the Great Bull Whale I" muttered the ex-buc-
caneer in astonishment. "Sol Brig's treasure, sure
enough I And that devil, Daggs — see here, if Bob's
alive, we've got to get him out of that I" He swung
about and hailed the boat's crew, all six of whom had
remained on the beach.

"Adams, and you, Mason, pull back to the sloop
and bring off all the men in the port watch, with their
cutlasses and small-arms. The rest of you come up
here."

As soon as Job had shaken hands with Jeremy's fa-
ther and brother, they entered the cabin.

"Now, Jeremy," said the skipper, "you say this craft
is careened on the other side of the island, close to the
place where Stede Bonnet landed us that time*? How
many men have they ^"

"We don't know," the boy replied. "But I don't
think Daggs had time to gather a big crew, and what's

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

more, he'd figure the fewer the better when it came to
splitting up the gold. I doubt if there's above fifteen
men — maybe only fourteen now." He grinned as he
thought of the big pirate who had attacked him in the
woods.

*'Good," said Job. "We'll have sixteen besides you,
Mr. Swan, and your two boys. An even twenty, count-
ing myself. If we can't put that crowd under hatches,
I'm no sailorman."

The crew of the Tiger^ bristling with arms and eager
for action, now came up. Without wasting time Job
told them what was afoot and they moved forward up
the hill.

Once among the trees the attacking party spread out
in irregular fan-formation, with Tom and Jeremy
scouting a little in advance. The stillness of the woods
was almost oppressive as they went forward. All the
men seemed to feel it and proceeded with more and
more caution. Used to the hurly-burly of sea-fighting,
they did not relish this silent approach against an un-
seen enemy.

Clearing the ridge they came down at length to the
edge of the beach, close to the old pirate anchorage,
and Jeremy led the way along through the bushes to-
ward the mouth of the reedy inlet. Working carefully
down the shore to the place whence Bob and he had
sighted the spars of the buccaneer, he climbed above

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the reeds and peered up the creek. To his surprise the
masts had disappeared.

"She's gone I" he gasped.

Job and Tom looked in turn. Certain it was that no
vessel lay in the creek I

"Perhaps they sighted the Tiger,'' suggested Jeremy.
"If so, they can't have gotten far. They've likely taken
the rest of the gold. And Bob must be aboard, too, if
he's still alive."

As they turned to go back, one of the sailors who
had walked down to the reeds at the edge of the creek,
hurried up with a dark object in his fist. He held it
out as he drew near and they saw that it was a pistol,
covered with a mass of black mud. Jeremy saw a gleam
of metal through the sticky lump, and quickly scraping
away the mud from the mounting he disclosed a silver
plate which bore the still terrible name "Stede Bon-
net." The boy gave a cry of pleasure as he saw it, and
thrust the weapon quickly into Job's hands.

"Look!" he exclaimed. "It's Bob's pistol. And there's
only one way it could have gotten where it was. He
must have thrown it from the sloop's neck as they went
past, thinking we'd find it. See here I They can't be
gone more than a few hours, for there's not a bit of rust
on the iron parts. Maybe we could catch them. Job, if
we hurry I"

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Job turned to his men and called, "What say you,
lads — shall we give them a chase*?"

A chorus of vociferous "Ay, Ay's" was the answer.

"Here we go, then!" he shouted, and led the way
back up the hill at a trot.

As they reached the ridge, Jeremy cut over to the
left a little through the trees, so that his course lay
past the treasure cleft. When he reached it he found
just what he had expected — the shattered staves of the
barrel lying open on the ledge, and several rough ex-
cavations in the dirt at the bottom of the chasm, where
the buccaneers had searched greedily for more gold.
The charred remnants of a bonfire, a few yards fur-
ther down the cleft, showed that they had worked
partly at night.

Leaving the ledge, the boy was hurrying back to
join the main party when he came out upon an ele-
vated space, clear of trees, from which one could com-
mand a view of the sea to the west and south. Involun-
tarily he paused, and shading his eyes with his hand,
swept the horizon slowly. Then he gave a start, for
straight away to the westward, in a gap between two
islands, was a white speck of sail.

"Job!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Job!"

The big skipper was only a short distance away, and
he came through the trees at a run followed by most of

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

his men, in answer to Jeremy's hail. No words were
necessary. The boy's pointing finger led their eyes in-
stantly to the far-off ship. Job took a quick look at the
sun and the distant islands, to fix his bearings, then
set out for the northern inlet again, even faster than
before.

As they came running down the slope toward the
cabin, Amos Swan emerged, gun in hand, evidently
believing that they were in full rout before the enemy.

"They've left the island," panted Jeremy, as he
reached the door. "We saw their sail — we're going to
chase them I We're sure, now, that Bob's aboard I"

His father looked relieved.

"Go — you and Tom I" he said. "I'll stay and mind
the island."

Job, with a dozen of his men, was starting in the
cutter, and had already hailed the Tiger to order the
other boat sent ashore. Tom and Jeremy hurried into
the cabin, and stuffing some clothes into Jeremy's sea-
chest along with a brace of good pistols and a cutlass
apiece, were soon ready to embark.

226

T

CHAPTER XXXI

"SPHERE was a bustle of action aboard the sloop
when the boys swarmed up her side. One
chanty was being sung up forward, where half
a dozen sturdy seamen were heaving at the capstan
bars, and another was going amidships as the throat
of the long main gaff went to the top. Captain Job
stood on the af terdeck, constantly shouting new orders.
His big voice made itself heard above the singing, the
groan of tackle-blocks and the crash of the canvas,
flapping in the northwest wind.

It was a clear, sunny day, with a bite of approaching
winter in the air, and the boys were glad to button
their jackets tight and move into the lee of the after-
house.

"Here, lads," Job cried, "there's work for you, too.
Take a run below, Jeremy, and bring up an armload of
cutlasses. See if any of those muskets need cleaning,
Tom."

Jeremy scurried down the companion ladder, and
forward along the starboard gun deck to the rack of
small arms near the fo'c's'le hatch. Jeremy was pleased
to see that the sloop carried a full complement of ten
broadside guns, beside a long brass cannon in the bows.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

In fact, she was armed like a regular man-o'-war. The
tubs were filled and neat little piles of round-shot and
cannister stood beside each gun. The Tiger, he thought,
was likely to give a good account of herself if she could
come to grips with the buccaneers.

Stepping on deck once more, his arms piled with
hangers, Jeremy found that the sloop had already
cleared the bay on her starboard tack and was just com-
ing about to make a long reach of it to port. The pirate
sail was no longer in sight in the west, but as several
islands filled the horizon in that direction, it seemed
likely that she had passed beyond them.

Jeremy approached the Captain. "How far ahead do
you think they are'?" he asked.

"When we sighted 'em, they were about four sea-
miles to the westward," answered Job. "If they're mak-
ing ordinary sailing, they've gained close to three more,
since then. But if they're carrying much canvas it may
be more. We shan't come near them before dark, at any
rate.

He cast an eye aloft as he spoke, and Jeremy's gaze
followed. The Tiger was carrying topsails and both
jibs, with a single reef in her fore and main sails. She
was scudding along at a great rate with the whitecaps
racing by, close below the lee gunports. Jeremy whis-
tled with delight. He had seen Stede Bonnet crowd
canvas once or twice, but never in so good a cause.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

The wind held from the northwest, gaining in
strength rather than decreasing, and the sloop, heeled
far to port, sped along close-hauled on a west-sou' west
course.

After three-quarters of an hour of this kind of sail-
ing they were close to the group of islands, and sight-
ing a passage to the northward, swung over on the other
tack. A rough beat to starboard brought them into the
gap. Though they crossed a grim, black shoal at the
narrowest part. Job did not shorten sail, but steered
straight on as fast as the wind would take him. And at
length they came clear of the headland and saw a great
stretch of open sea to the southwestward with a faint,
white dot of sail at its farthest edge.

At the sight a hearty cheer went up from the seamen,
clustered along the port rail. A lean, wind-browned
man with keen black eyes came aft to the tiller where
Jeremy and Tom stood with the Captain. It was Isaiah
Hawkes, Job's first mate, himself a Maine coast man.
"It's all clear sailin' ahead, sir," he said. "No more
reefs or islands 'twixt this an' Cape Cod, if they follow
the course they're on."

The Tiger hung with fluttering canvas in the wind's
eye for a second or two, then settled away on the port
tack with a bang of her main boom.

"Here, Isaiah, take the tiller," said Job, at length.
"Hold her as she is — two points to windward of the

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other sloop. You'll want to set an extra lookout to-
night," he continued. "We shan't be able to keep 'em
in sight at this distance, if they've sighted us, which
most likely they have. I'm going up to have a look at
'Long Poll' now."

Accompanied by the two boys, he made his way
along the steeply canted deck of the plunging schooner
to the breech of the swivel-gun at the bow.

"Ever seen this gal afore, Jeremy'?" asked Job,
shouting to make himself heard above the hiss and
thunder of the water under the forefoot. "She's the old
gun we had aboard the Queen. Stede Bonnet never had
a piece like this. Cast in Bristol, she was, in '94. There's
the letters that tells it." And he patted the bright
breech lovingly, sighting along the brazen barrel, and
swinging the nose from right to left till he brought
the gun to bear squarely on the white speck that was
the pirate sloop, still hull-down in the sea ahead.
"Come morning, Polly, my gal," he chuckled, "we'll
let you talk to 'em."

As he spoke, the fiery disk of the sun was slipping
into the ocean across the starboard bow. With sunset
the breeze lightened perceptibly, and Job ordered the
reefs shaken out of the fore and mainsails and an extra
jib set. Then he and the boys, who, although they had
quarters aft, had been assigned to the port watch, went
below and turned in.

230

CHAPTER XXXII

JEREMY, Stumbling on deck at eight bells, pulled
his seaman's greatcoat up about his ears, for the
breeze came cold. He worked his way forward
along the high weather rail and took up his lookout sta-
tion on the starboard bow.

Overhead the midnight sky burned bright with stars
that seemed to flicker like candle-flames in the wind. A
half-grown moon rode down the west and threw a faint
radiance across the heaving seas. It was blowing harder
now. The wind boomed loud in the taut stays and the
rising waves broke smashingly over the bow at times,
forcing the foremast hands to cling like monkeys to the
rail and rigging.

Captain Job, with Tom to help him, stood grimly at
the thrashing tiller and drove the sloop southwestward
at a terrific gait. The sails had been single-reefed again
during the mate's watch, but with the wind still fresh-
ening the staunch little craft was carrying an enormous
amount of canvas. Job Howland was a sailor of the
breed that was to reach its climax a hundred years later
in the captains of the great Yankee clippers — men who
broke sailing records and captured the world's trade be-
cause they dared to walk their tall ships, full-can-

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

vased, past the heavy foreign merchantmen that rolled
under triple reefs in half a gale of wind.

One by one the hours of the watch went by. Jeremy,
drenched and shivering, but thrilling to the excitement
of the chase, stuck to his post at the rail beside the long
bow gun. His eyes were fixed constantly on the sea
ahead and abeam, while his thoughts, racing on, fol-
lowed the pirate schooner close.

How was Bob to be gotten off alive, he wondered,
for he had come to believe that his chum was aboard
the fleeing craft. If it came to a running fight, their can-
nonade might sink her, in which case the boy would be
drowned along with his captors. And there were other
things that could happen. Jeremy groaned aloud as he
thought of the fate that Pharaoh Daggs had once so
nearly meted out to him. He felt again the bite of the
hemp at his wrists, and saw that pitiless gleam in the
strange light eyes of the pirate. Would Daggs try to
settle his long score against the boys by some un-
heard-of brutality?

A sudden hail cut in upon his thoughts. "Sail hoi"
the lookout on the other side had cried.

"Where away'?" came Job's deep shout.

"Three points on the port bow," answered the sea-
man, "an' not above a league off I"

Jeremy, straining his eyes into the night, made out
the dim patch of sail ahead.

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"How's she headed?" called the Captain again. "Is
she still on her port tack, or running before the wind*?"

"Still beating up to the west I" the sailor replied.

"Good," cried Job. "They think they can outsail us.
Keep her in sight and sing out if you see her fall off the
wind!"

Half an hour later the watch was changed and Jer-
emy scrambled into his warm bunk for a few hours'
more sleep.

It was broad daylight when he and Tom reached the
deck once more and went eagerly forward to join the
little knot of seamen in the bows. All eyes were turned
toward the horizon, ahead, where the sails of the flee-
ing schooner loomed gray in the morning haze.

The wind which had shifted a little to the north was
still blowing stiffly, heeling both sloops over at a sharp
angle. The Tiger had gained somewhat during the
morning watch, but the pirates had now evidently be-
come desperate and put on all the sail their craft would
carry, so that the two vessels sped on, league after
league, without apparent change of position.

Job, who had now taken the tiller again, called to
Jeremy after a while. "Here, lad," he said, when the
boy reached the poop, "lend me a hand with this
kicker."

Jeremy laid hold with a will, and found that it took
almost all his strength, along with that of the power-

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

ful Captain, to hold the schooner on her course. At
times, when a big beam sea caught her, she would yaw
fearfully, falling off several points, and could only be
brought back to windward by jamming the thrashing
rudder hard over.

"We lose headway when she does that, don't we,
Job*?" panted the boy after one such effort. "And I
reckon we couldn't lash the beam fast to keep her this
way, could we? No, I see, it has to be free so as to move
all the time. Still "

As he staggered to and fro at the end of the tiller,
the boy thought rapidly. Finally he recommenced:
"Job — this may sound foolish to you — but why
couldn't we lash her on both sides, and yet give her
play — look — this way! Rig a little pulley here and

one here " He indicated places on the deck, close

to the rail on either quarter. "Then reeve a line from
the tiller-end through each one, and bring it back with
three or four turns around a windlass drum, a little
way for'ard, there. Then you could keep hold of the
arms of the windlass, and only let the tiller move as
much as you needed to, either way "

"By the Great Bull Whale," Job laughed, as he
grasped the boy's plan, "I wonder if that wouldn't
work I Jeremy, boy, we'll find out, anyhow. Braistedl"
he called to the ship's carpenter, "up with some lumber

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

and a good stout line and a pair of spare blocks if
you've got them. Lively, now I"

In a jiffy the carpenter had tumbled the tackle out
on the deck, and under the direction of Job began to
rig it according to Jeremy's scheme. It was a matter of
a few moments only, once he caught the idea. When at
length the final stout knot had been tied, Job, still
keeping his mighty clutch on the tiller beam, motioned
to Jeremy to take hold of the windlass. The boy jumped
forward eagerly and seized two of the rude spokes that
radiated horizontally from the hub. The position was
an awkward one, but with a slight pull he found that
he could swing the windlass rapidly in either direction.

"Avast there — a vast I" came Job's bass bellow, and
looking over his shoulder, Jeremy saw the big skipper
flung from side to side in spite of himself as the wind-
lass was turned. The seamen who had gathered to
watch were roaring with laughter, and Job himself was
chuckling as he let go the tiller and hurried to Jeremy's
side. Taking a grip on the spokes, he spun them back
and forth once or twice, to feel how the vessel answered
her helm under this new contraption, and in a moment
had it working handsomely. He was using the first
ship's steering-wheel.

The sloop, which had yawed and lost some headway
during this interlude, now struck her stride again, and

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

drove along with her nose held steady, a full half-point
closer to the wind than had been possible before. Job
perceived this and loosed one hand long enough to
strike Jeremy a mighty blow on the back.

"She works, boy I" he cried. "And at this gait we'll
catch them before noon I"

Indeed, the crew had already noticed the difference
in their sailing, and were lining the bows, waving their
caps in the air and yelling with excitement as they
watched the distance between the two craft slowly
shorten.

An hour passed, and the gunners were sent below to
make ready their pieces, for the lead of the pirate sloop
had been cut to a bare mile.

Job had turned the wheel over to Hawkes, and now,
with three picked men to help him, was ramming home
a heavy charge of powder in the long "nine." On top
of it he drove down the round-shot, then bent above the
swivel-breech, swinging it back and forth as he brought
the cannon's muzzle to bear on the topsails of the pirate
schooner, whose black hull was now plainly visible. He
sniffed the wind and measured the distance with his
eye. When his calculations were complete he turned
and held up his hand in signal to the helmsman. As the
swivel allowed movement only from side to side, he
must depend on the cant of the deck for his elevation.
Holding the long gunner's match lighted in his hand,

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

he waited for the exact second when the schooner's bow
was lifted on a wave and swinging in the right direc-
tion, then touched the powder train. There was a hiss
and flare, and at the end of a second or two a terrific
roar as the charge was fired. The smoke was blown clear
almost instantly, and every one leaned forward, watch-
ing the sea ahead with tense eagerness. At length a col-
umn of white spray lifted, a scant hundred yards astern
of the other sloop. The crew cheered, for it was a splen-
did shot at that distance and in a seaway. The sky was
thickening to windward, and it grew harder momen-
tarily to see objects at a distance. Job was already at
work, superintending the swabbing-out of the gun and
reloading with his own hands. There was a long mo-
ment while he waited for a favorable chance, then
"Long Poll" shook the deck once more with the crash
of her discharge. This time the shot fell just ahead and
to windward of the enemy — so close that the spray
blew back into the rigging.

Job had bracketed his target, but the mist-clouds
that were sweeping past rendered his task a difficult
one. Grimly but with swift certainty of movement he
went about his preparations for a third attempt.

Suddenly there was a shout from Jeremy, who had
climbed into the forestays for a better view. "Look
there I" he cried. "They're lowering a boat. There's
something white in it, like a flag of truce I"

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

In the lee of the pirate vessel a small boat could be
seen tossing crazily in the heavy seas. Job, who had
called for his spyglass, looked long and earnestly at
the tiny craft.

"There's but one man in it," he announced at length,
"and he's showing a bit of something white, as Jeremy
says. Here, lad, you've the best eyes on the sloop, see
if you can make out more."

The boy focussed the glass on the little boat, which
was now drifting rapidly to the southeast, already
nearly opposite their bows. The figure in it stood up,
waving frantic arms to one side and the other.

"It's Bob I" Jeremy almost screamed. "That's a sig-
nal we used to have when we were hunting. It means
'Come here.' "

He had hardly finished speaking when — "Port your
helm I" roared Job. "All hands stand by to slack the
fore and main sheets I"

The Tiger fell off the wind with a lurch and spun
away to leeward, bowing into the running seas.

Five minutes later they hauled Bob, drenched and
dripping, to the deck.

238

CHAPTER XXXIII

T

p^jpN^HE boy was pale and haggard and so weak he
could hardly stand alone, but he looked about
him with an eager grin as Tom and Jeremy
helped him toward the companion.

"Why," he gasped, "here's old Job I What's he doing
up here I" as the latter strode aft to seize his hand.

"Ay, lad," laughed the big mariner, a mighty relief
showing in his face, "we're all your friends aboard here.
But how came those devils to let you off so easy? We
figured we'd have to fight to get you, and mighty lucky
to do it at that I"

The schooner had come into the wind again and was
heading westward in pursuit of the pirate, now hidden
in the murk ahead. Bob was helped to the cabin and
propped up in a bunk while his friends hastened to get
some dry clothes on him. A pull of brandy stopped his
shivering.

"I thought none of you would ever see me alive," he
said soberly. "But, Job, before I tell you all about it,
are you sure you've lost sight of Daggs' sloop? They
were worried about your shooting, and figured the only
chance they had was to set me adrift and then get away
in the dirty weather, while you were fishing me out.

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

They'd never have given me up if that second shot
hadn't mighty near gone through and through the old
Kevengey

"The Revenger said Job. "I thought I knew the cut
of that big mainsail, and she was painted black, tool
Well, their trick succeeded. Just this minute we'd have
no more chance of finding 'em than a needle in a hay-
stack. But it may clear again before night, and then
we'll seel Go ahead now and spin your yarn, my lad I"

And Bob, swigging hot tea and munching a biscuit,
began once more to tell his story.

"After we separated, and started to run, up on the
hill that night," he said, "I seemed to lose all my sense
of direction for a while. I was scared for one thing, I'll
freely admit. When I saw Daggs' face in the torchlight
leaning over us, there by the treasure barrel, it fright-
ened me pretty nearly out of my senses. So I started to
run, without an idea of where I was going, and by the
time I got my wits back, I couldn't tell just where I
was, in the rain and the dark. I seemed to be right on
top of the ridge, but I had zig-zagged several times, I
remembered, and when I tried to figure which side of
the hill I should go down, I couldn't for the life of me
decide. Finally I said to myself, 'Here, don't be a fool I
Which way was the wind blowing when we set out
from the shack'? Aha, it was north,' says I. 'Very well,
then, this must be the way to the cabin — straight into

240

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the wind.' And down the hill I started, bearing over

to my right, so as to come out just above the sheep-

)}

pen.

"But " interrupted Jeremy, "when that storm

came up the wind backed clear round into the
south "

"I know it now," Bob answered, "but I didn't then.
I kept right on, tickled that I was out of it so well,
and wondering where the rest of you had gotten to.
Pretty soon I came to some low land that I didn't re-
member, but I saw a light off ahead and to my right,
and decided that was the cabin. I blundered along
through the trees till I was quite close, and then I dis-
covered that the light came from a bonfire. I stopped
for a second, puzzled, for I was sure I must be near the
cabin. I wondered if the pirates had captured it. I stole
up still closer and watched the light and presently a
buccaneer walked in front of it.

"That was enough for me. I turned and started to
run. And at about the third step I fell plump into the
arms of a pirate. You see I had walked straight toward
their part of the island by making that silly mistake.

"This fellow got a grip on my collar, and I couldn't
break loose, though Til warrant his shins are tender
yet, where I kicked him. He hauled me down to the fire,
and he and three others who were there looked me over.
The one that had caught me was a big mulatto — as

241

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

ugly-looking a customer as I ever saw. And the others
were no lambs. I'll tell you, my hearties, Daggs has
gathered up a pretty lot of rascals in this crew. Not
one of 'em but looks as if he'd knife you for a copper
farthing I

"These four by the fire wasted no time, but went
through my pockets in a hurry. They took my pistol
and were quarreling about dividing the goldpieces I
had, when the rest of the crowd began to appear. They
were all wet, and in a bad temper for a dozen other
reasons. Plenty of curses came my way, but no one laid
a hand on me, for they had a mighty fear of Pharaoh
Daggs. When he finally came, he swore at them till
they slunk around like whipped curs.

*'He was in an ugly mood that night. Seemingly he
was disappointed in the amount of treasure they had
found. Besides that, they had come on one of their best
men with his head beaten in, and you and your father
had gotten clean away. Things looked black enough
for me, I can tell you.

*'Daggs and the mulatto, who is his mate, started in
to question me, after they had grumbled awhile. They
knew already how many of you there were at the cabin,
but they asked about your guns and supplies. Of course,
I didn't make the stronghold any weaker in the telling.
When they had all the information they thought they
could get out of me, they held a sort of council. Some
wanted to go right over before light and attack the

242

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

cabin. Others were for broaching a barrel of rum first,
and making thorough preparations. Finally Daggs de-
cided to put it off until they could get some pitch and
dry grass ready, so as to set fire to the roof.

"It was nearly daylight by this time, and they started
back through the reeds toward their sloop, leading me
along with them. We travelled half a mile or so, down
a crooked black trail only wide enough for one man
at a time, and ankle deep in the mud of the swamp.
When we reached the schooner they stuck a pair of
handcuffs on me and put me down on the ballast. In
spite of the filth and the cold I was so dog-tired that I
tumbled on the nearest pile of old chains and went to
sleep.

"I woke up late in the afternoon, and I don't think I
was ever so stiff and uncomfortable and hungry in my
life. I made my way over to the hatch and found I could
reach the combing with my hands, so I pulled myself
up, after a mighty hard tussle. Try it some time with
your hands tied I

"Most of the pirates were forward in their bunks,
but one who was keeping watch on deck took pity on
me and gave me a couple of biscuits and a swig of
water. He was more or less talkative, besides, and from
him I learned that Daggs planned to start about mid-
night for your side of the island, carrying buckets of
pitch and tinder, so as to roast you out.

"As you may imagine, this kind of talk nearly turned

243

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

me sick with fear, and right in the midst of it Pharaoh
Daggs came on deck.

"He had that empty sort of glare in his eyes that we
used to see sometimes when he was drunk. Of course,
he walked straight and even, but as he came over to-
ward us, with his teeth showing and his eyes fixed on a
point just above the pirate's shoulder, I almost yelled
'Look out I' If I had, it might have cost me my life
right there. He walked along, light on his toes like a
cat, till he stood two feet from us. Then, so fast I
hardly knew what happened, he hit the other man on
the chin with his fist. That was all. The man dropped
with his head back against the rail. And Daggs went
off, chuckling to himself but not making any noise. I
don't think he saw me at all, for his attack was more
like the work of a mad dog than of a man.

"I crept away and got below decks as fast as might
be, and there I stayed hidden till after dark, when some
of the buccaneers rousted me out. A keg of rum had
been opened in the waist, and the liquor was going
freely. Most of the crew were already drunk, but they
had the sense to chain me by one leg to the foremast,
and then made me run back and forth between them
and the barrel. I was only too glad. No cannikin was
skimped while I was at the spigot. I looked around and
remembered some of the wild nights we had seen on
the old Revenge, And then for the first time I realized

244

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

that the deck I stood on was the samel They'd gotten
hold of the old black sloop when she was auctioned at
Charles Town, patched up her bottom and here she was
— buccaneering once morel Where the gang of cut-
throats aboard her were gathered, I don't know, but
they put Stede Bonnet's famous crew to shame.

"Pharaoh Daggs was somewhere ashore with two of
the crew till nearly midnight. When he returned, the
rest were lying like pigs about the deck. He had sobered
slightly — enough to remember the night's undertaking
— but it was useless to think of rousing those sots to
any sort of endeavor. He kicked one or two of them
savagely with his heavy boot, too, but it got hardly
more than a grunt from them.

"He stood there cursing for a minute, then came over
and looked at the shackle that held me to the foremast-
foot, and shook it to make sure it was solid before he
went below. He had something done up in a cloth that
he held mighty tenderly, and he seemed in a better
humor.

"I curled up on the deck and by wrapping myself in
a greatcoat which I found beside one of the drunken
pirates, succeeded in keeping reasonably warm.

"When morning came Daggs and his mulatto mate
managed to wake most of the men and forced them to
get out and forage for wood and water, while they
themselves crossed the ridge to reconnoitre. I think it

245

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

was about two hours after sunrise when those of us who
stayed aboard the sloop saw figures running down the
hill. The buccaneers got out boarding-pikes and picked
up cutlasses, but in a moment Daggs reached the side,
out of breath with his haste.

" 'There's a ten-gun schooner in the northern cove I'
he cried. 'They're landing a boat now. We haven't any
time to lose — the tide's past full already! Cut those
moorings I'

"The hemp lines were slashed through with cutlasses
and the men, with one accord, jumped to the push-
holes. The sloop was on an even keel and just off the
bottom. A few strong shoves started her down the
creek.

"My hopes of escaping began to go down, for there
I was, still chained to the fore-stick like a cow put out
to grass. I looked around me in desperation, for I
wanted to leave you some sign at least of my where-
abouts. Then my eye fell on a little heap of small arms
that had been thrown down near the forehatch. The
pistols were useless to me, as I had no powder, but
among them I saw the bright silver mountings of my
own — the one that used to be Stede Bonnet's.

"We were drawing near the creek mouth, and those
of the crew who were not at the poles were busy un-
furling the sails. I picked the pistol up unobserved and
waited till we were just hauling clear of the creek.

246

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Then I threw it overside and saw it strike in the mud.
Did you find it'?"

"Yes," said Jeremy. "That's how we knew for cer-
tain that you'd been captured."

"Well," the Delaware boy went on, "there's not
much more to tell. The pirates made all sail to the
southwest, but after we cleared the islands, there you
were, roaring along in our wake. Daggs thought that
the Revenge was a faster sailer than your craft, but he
found he couldn't keep her as close to the wind on this
tack. I don't think he wants to hght if he can help it,
but he was getting desperate this afternoon before the
weather began to thicken up. I heard him tell the mate
he'd rather come to broadside grips than risk having
you drop a shot through the black sloop's bottom with
that bowchaser. Then the mist started to come over,
and I guess Daggs saw his chance right away. He called
the crew aft and told them what he was going to do,
and a moment later I found myself being lowered in a
boat into that wicked sea. I thought they were trying to
drown me out of hand, till they gave me a piece of
white cloth to wave. Then I got an inkling of their
idea.

"Sure enough, no sooner was I fairly adrift than I
saw you put over in my direction, and thinking Jeremy
might be aboard, I gave him our old signal. It worked,
and here I am safe enough. But meanwhile those devils

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THE BLACK BUCCANEER

have got off into the mist, and it'll be hard to follow
them."

Job sat thoughtful, pulling at his pipe. He seemed
to be cogitating some of the points in Bob's narrative,
and the others kept silent, unwilling to interrupt him.
At length he blew a great cloud of blue smoke toward
the deck-beams above and turning to the boy, asked,
"Did Daggs or any of the rest ever speak of the place
where they were going?"

'They never talked about it openly," Bob replied,
"but from words dropped now and then by the mulatto
mate I figured they were heading down for the Spanish
Islands. I don't think they intend putting in anywhere
first, unless they land for water in one of those out of
the way inlets along the Jersey coast."

Job nodded. 'That's about as I thought," he an-
swered. "So we'll hold on this tack till nightfall —
we're just off the Kennebec, now — and then we'll run
sou'-sou'east before the wind, to clear Cape Cod. Daggs
— if he figgers as I would in his place — won't start to
leeward right away, for he'd rather have us in front of
him than behind. And unless I'm much mistaken he's
in too much of a hurry to waste time in doubling back
up the coast. All right. Bob, lad, you'll be wanting sleep
now, so we'll leave you. On deck with you, boys I"

And tucking the blankets about the drowsy young-
ster in the bunk, Job led the way to the companion.

248

CHAPTER XXXIV

T

[/■ ws^HE mist was sweeping past in swirls and streaks,
and though the wind had abated somewhat, the
Tiger still ploughed along into the obscurity
at a fair rate of speed. Jeremy stayed forward with the
lookout, peering constantly into the gloom ahead, and
half expecting to see the ghostlike sails of the Revenge
whenever for a moment a gray aisle opened in the mist.
But there were only the grim, uneasy seas and the shift-
ing fog.

Before darkness fell Job shortened sail, for he did
not wish to get too far ahead of the enemy. And about
the end of the second dog watch he gave the order to
slack sheets and fall away for the southward run.

The wind turned bitterly cold in the night, and when
the watch was changed Tom and Jeremy staggered
below, glad to escape from the stinging snow that filled
the air.

But with that snow-flurry the weather cleared. The
sun rose to a day of bright blue water and sharp wind,
and hardly had its first level rays shot across the ocean
floor when the watch below was tumbled out by a
chorus of shouts from the deck.

Jeremy, as he burst upward through the hatchway,

249

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

cast an eager eye to either beam, then uttered a whoop
of joy, as he caught the gleam of white canvas over
the bows. There, straight ahead and barely a league dis-
tant, raced the Revenge and her pirate crew.

Captain Job reached the deck only a couple of jumps
behind the boys, and an instant later his deep voice
boomed the order to shake out all reefs and set the
top-sails.

Bob, who had slept the clock around and eaten a
hearty breakfast, soon appeared at Jeremy's side, look-
ing fit for any adventure. With Tom they went up into
the bows and were shortly joined there by others of the
crew, all intent on the chase.

The swells as they surged by from stern to bow
seemed to move more and more sluggishly. Beneath a
press of sail that would have made most skippers fear-
ful of running her under. Job was driving the Tiger
along at a terrific pace. Now once more Jeremy's steer-
ing-wheel was proving its worth. Job at the helm could
hold the plunging schooner on her course with far less
danger of being swung over into the trough than would
have been the case with the old hand tiller.

But in spite of the schooner's headlong speed, the
distance between her and her quarry seemed to lessen
scarcely at all. The old Revenge vj'ixh her tall sticks
and great spread of canvas was flying down before the
wind with all the speed that had made her name a by-

250

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

word, and the man with the broken nose was evidently
willing to take as many chances as his pursuers.

All morning the chase went on. At noon, when the
winter sun flashed on the high white dunes of Cape
Cod, to starboard, the Tiger seemed to have gained a
little. Job, leaving the wheel for a bit, came forward
and measured the distance with his eye. He shook his
head. "Two miles," he said. "At this rate we can't get
within range before dark." And he went back to his
steering.

But for once he was mistaken. For an hour or more
the buccaneers had been hauling over little by little
toward the coast, possibly with the idea of running in
and escaping overland as soon as night should fall.
Now the lookout in the foretop of the Tiger gave a
cheer.

"They've caught a flaw in the wind I" he shouted.
"Watch us come up!"

Sure enough the Revenge had sailed into an area of
light air to leeward of the Cape, and the boys could see
that their own sloop, which still had the wind, was
hauling up hand over hand on her adversary.

"By the Great Bull Whale I" roared Job, leaping
forward along the deck, "now's our chance! Hold her
as she is, Hawkes, while I load the long gun."

The big gunner-captain worked rapidly as always,
but before he had done ramming down the round-shot,

251

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the pirate schooner was within range for a long-dis-
tance try. She lay off the Tiger s starboard bow, almost
broadside on, but still too far away to use her own
guns.

Job aimed with his usual care, but when at length
he put a match to the powder, the shot flew harmlessly
through the pirate's rigging, striking the sea beyond.
Almost at the same moment the wind drew strongly in
the sails of the Revenge once more, and she began
plunging southward at a breakneck pace.

Job ran aft for a word with the mate, who had the
wheel, then returned and again loaded the bow-chaser,
this time with chainshot and an extra heavy charge of
powder to carry it. When he had finished he stood by
the breech in grim silence, watching the chase.

It soon became apparent that though the Tiger could
gain little on her rival in actual headway, she was
gradually pulling over closer to the quarter of the
Revenge. Hawkes, who was an excellent seaman, hu-
mored the craft to starboard, bit by bit, without sacri-
ficing her forward speed.

At the end of twenty minutes Job gave a satisfied
grunt, maneuvered the cannon back and forth on its
swivel base once or twice, and fired. Above the roar of
the discharge the boys heard the screech of the whirling
chainshot, and then in the Revenge's mainsail ap-
peared a great gaping rent, through the tattered edges

252

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

of which the wind passed unhindered. There was a
howl of joy from the crew, and without waiting for an
order, they tumbled pell-mell down the hatches to man
the broadside cannon in the waist.

Job stayed on deck, watching the enemy through his
spy-glass. Handicapped by her torn mainsail, the
Revenge was already falling abeam. When they had
hauled up to within five or six hundred yards of her,
Job called the men of the port watch on deck to shorten
sail. This done, and the two sloops holding on south-
ward at about an even gait, the Captain took a turn
below, where he looked at each of the guns, gave a few
sharp orders and ran back to his station on the after
deck.

"All ready, Hawkes," he called, "bring us up to
within a hundred and fifty fathoms of her I"

The mate spun the wheel to starboard, and the
schooner, answering, drew nearer to the enemy.

"Close enough — port your helm," cried Job.

But even as the Tiger swung into position for a
broadside, there came the roar of the pirate's guns, and
a shot crashed through the forestays, while others, fall-
ing short, threw spray along the deck.

"All right below," shouted Captain Job, steady as a
church. "Ready a starboard broadside I" And at his
sharp "Fire I" the five cannon spoke in quick succes-
sion. The deck rocked beneath Jeremy's feet, where he

253

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

stood by the companion, ready to carry Job's orders
below.

As the dense smoke was swept away forward on the
wind, they could see the Revenge^ her rigging still fur-
ther damaged by the volley, going about on the star-
board tack, and making straight for the shore.

"Put your helm hard down and bring her to the
wind I" roared Job, at the same time jumping toward
the mainsheet.

The schooner swung to starboard, heeling sharply
as she caught the wind abeam, and was in hot pursuit
of her enemy before a full minute had passed.

254

L

CHAPTER XXXV

ITTLE by little the Tiger pulled up to windward
of the buccaneer and the men below in the gun

^ deck could be heard cheering as their advance
brought the black sloop more and more nearly opposite
the yawning mouths of the Tiger s port carronades.

The shore was now less than half a mile distant.
Though making all possible speed, the pirate schooner
seemed to rise on the waves with a more sluggish heave
than before. Job, watching her through the spyglass,
turned to Isaiah Hawkes.

''Don't she look sort o' soggy to you?" he asked. "I
can't quite make out whether that's a hole in her plank-
ing or — by the Great Hook Block! See there, now,
when she lifts! One of our shots landed smack on
her waterline. No wonder they're trying to beach
her!"

A moment later the Tiger had hauled fairly abreast
and the two schooners plunged along a bare hundred
yards apart. Not a head showed above the high weather
bulwark of the Revenge. Only the muzzles of her guns
peered grimly from their ports in her black side. There
was something sinister about this apparently deserted
ship, lurching drunkenly shoreward, with her torn sails

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

and broken rigging flapping in the breeze, and the
pirate flag flying at her peak.

Job made a megaphone of his hands and raised his
voice in a hail.

"Ahoy, Revenge!" he boomed. "Will you surrender
peacefully, and haul down that flag'?"

There was silence for a full ten seconds. Then a mus-
ket cracked and a bullet imbedded itself in the main-
mast by Job's head.

"All right, boys," he said, without moving, "let 'em
have it I Ready, port battery'? Fire I" Jeremy and Bob,
clinging side by side to the hatch-combing, felt the
planking quiver under them at the series of mighty dis-
charges, and saw the pirate schooner check and stagger
like an animal that has received its death wound.

Only one of her guns was able to reply, the round-
shot screaming high and wide. But on she went, and
the steep beach below the dunes was very close now.

Captain Job stood by the hatchway. "All hands up,
ready to board her," he ordered, and the crew, swarm-
ing on deck, ran to their places by the longboat amid-
ships.

The Tiger was now in very shallow water, but Job
waited till he saw the other craft strike. Then, "Bring
her head to the wind, HawkesI" he cried. "And over
with the boat, lads I Lively now, or they'll get ashore!"

Hardly was the order given when the boat shot into

256

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

the water. During the scramble of the seamen for places
on her thwarts, Jeremy and Bob jumped down and
crouched in the bows, unseen by any but those nearest
them. Ten seconds after she hit the waves the boat was
filled from gunwale to gunwale with sailors, armed to
the teeth with pistols, cutlasses and boarding-pikes.
Job, last to leave the deck, spoke a word to Hawkes,
who remained in command, and jumped into the stern
sheets.

"Now, give way I" he roared.

The eight stout oars lashed through the water and
the boat sped shoreward like an arrow. Up in the bows
the two boys clutched their weapons and waited.
Neither one would have admitted that he was scared,
though they were both shivering with something more
than the cold. Besides his precious pistol. Bob was grip-
ping the hilt of a murderous-looking hanger, which he
had picked up from the pile on deck in passing. Jeremy
had been able to secure no weapon but a short pike
with a heavy ashen staff and a knife-like blade at the
upper end. They peered over the bows in silence. The
longboat was close to the Revenge's quarter now, but
there was no sign of the pirates along her rail.

''Suppose they've got ashore?" asked Bob. 'T don't
see —

"Down heads all I"

It was Job's voice, and the boys together with many

257

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

of the seamen ducked instinctively at the words. As
they did so there came a crash of musketry, followed by
intermittent shots, and splinters flew from the gun-
wale of the boat. Jeremy heard a gasping cry behind
him and a young sailor toppled backward from the
thwart. He fell between the boys, and as they raised
him in their arms he died.

Another seaman had been killed and three more
wounded by the pirate volley, which had been fired
from a distance of barely a dozen yards. Seeing the
effect of their fusillade, the buccaneers rose cheering
and yelling from behind the bulwarks of the sloop in
the evident belief that they had succeeded in demoral-
izing the attacking force. But the speed of the boat
had hardly been checked. In another instant the rowers
shipped their oars and the gunwale scraped along the
free-board of the schooner.

"A guinea to the first man up!" cried Job, himself
reaching up with powerful fingers for a grip by which
to climb.

There were no rope-ends hanging, and as the
Revenge in her stranded position lay much higher for-
ward than aft, the boys, standing in the bows, found
themselves faced by smooth planking too high to scale.

Jeremy started back over the thwarts, but heard Bob
calling to him and turned.

"Here's a place to board I" the Delaware boy was

258

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

saying, and pointed toward the forward gunport which
stood open just beyond and above the bow of the long-
boat. In a twinkling Bob had straddled through the
hole, with Jeremy close after him. It was dark in the
'tween-decks and the two boys made their way forward
on tiptoe, waiting breathlessly for the attack they felt
sure would come. But apparently all the buccaneers
were busy above in the fierce fight that they could hear
raging along the rail. They moved on, undeterred, till
they reached the foot of the fo'c's'le ladder, where
Jeremy feeling along the bulkhead, uttered an ex-
clamation.

"This is their gun-rack," he said. "And here's a mus-
ket all loaded and primed I I'll take it along I"

The hatch cover had been drawn to, but Bob, trying
it from beneath, decided it was not fastened. Both boys
tugged at it and succeeded in sliding it back an inch
or two, where it stuck.

The hubbub on deck was now terrific. They could
hear, above the general outcry, an occasional sharply
gasped command in Job's voice, or a snarling oath
from one of the buccaneers, but for the most part it
was a bedlam of unintelligible shouts with a constant
undertone of ringing steel and the thud of shifting
feet. Most of the firearms, apparently, had been dis-
charged, and in the melee no one had time to reload.

Bob, straining desperately at the hatch-cover, spied

259

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Jeremy's pike-shaft, and thrusting it through the nar-
row opening, pried with all his strength. The hatch
squeaked open reluctantly and the boys squirmed
through on to the deck.

They gasped at the sight which met their eyes as they
emerged. Both of them had confidently expected to
find the pirates already beaten, and fighting with their
backs to the wall. But such was far from being the
case.

On the deck amidships lay two men from the Tiger,
sorely wounded, while Job and two others stood at bay
above them, swinging cutlasses mightily, and beating
off, time after time, the attacks of a dozen fierce pirate
hanger-men. A number of buccaneers had fallen but all
who were unwounded were raging like a pack of dogs
about the figures of Job and his two supporters.

"They can't get up I" cried Bob. "The men can't
climb the side I Here, help me bring that rope I" It was
a matter of seconds only before the boys had dashed
across the deck and thrown a rope's end to the men
below in the longboat. Then Jeremy turned and ran
toward the waist. Another man was down now. Job
and a single comrade were fighting back to back, parry-
ing with red blades the blows of half a score of the
enemy. Jeremy saw a gleam of yellow teeth between
wicked lips, and a flash of light eyes in the thick of the
assault. Then for a moment he had a glimpse of the

260

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

whole face of Pharaoh Daggs, scarred and distorted
with frightful passion — a cruel wolf's face — and even
as he looked, the dripping sword-blade of the man with
the broken nose plunged between the ribs of Job's last
henchman. The wounded seaman staggered, leaning his
weight against his captain, but still kept his guard up,
defending himself feebly. Job hooked his left arm
about the poor lad's body and backed with his burden
toward the mainmast, slashing fiercely around him
with his tireless right arm the while. When they
reached the mast, Job leaned his comrade against it,
set his own back to the wood, and battled on.

But now a cheer resounded, and the buccaneers,
turning their heads, found themselves face to face with
the rush of half a dozen men from the Tiger, while
more could be seen swarming over the rail.

The knot of pirates broke to meet the attack, but
some of them stayed. Daggs and the three others, in-
cluding the huge mulatto mate, closed in on Job, cut-
ting at him savagely. The wounded sailor had fainted
and slipped to the deck. Jeremy saw the saddle-colored
mate step swiftly to one side, then come up from be-
hind the mast, drawing a long dirk from his sash as he
neared Job's back. He had lifted the knife and was
stepping in for a blow, when Jeremy pulled the trig-
ger of his musket. There must have been an extra heavy
charge of powder in the gun, for its recoil threw the

261

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

boy flat on the deck, and before he could regain his feet
he saw a man close above him and caught the flash of
a hanger in the air. Desperately Jeremy rolled out of
the way, and none too soon, for the blade cut past his
head with a nasty swish. He scrambled up and caught
a boarding-pike from the deck as he did so. The pirate
followed, hacking at him with his cutlass, and for sec-
onds that seemed like hours the boy fought for his life,
parrying one stroke after another, till the pike shaft
was broken by the blows, and he was left weaponless.
As he ducked and turned in despair, a man from the
Tiger ran in and caught the buccaneer on his flank, fin-
ishing him in short order.

The deck was now full of struggling groups, for
though a score of the longboat's crew had climbed
aboard, the pirates were putting up a fierce resistance.
Jeremy, panting from his encounter, cast about for a
weapon and soon found a cutlass, with which he armed
himself. He turned toward the mainmast foot once
more, and to his joy discovered that his shot had taken
effect. The mulatto had disappeared under the tram-
pling mass of fighting men, and Job's tall figure still
towered by the mast. It took the lad only a second,
however, to realize that his Captain's plight was seri-
ous. The big Yankee was fighting wearily with a
broken cutlass, and his face was gray beneath the red
stream of blood that ran from a wound above his eye.

262

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

Jeremy plunged into the ruck of the battle, careless
now of danger. He hewed his way frantically toward
the mast, and suddenly found Bob there beside him,
cutting and lunging like a demon. He gasped out a
cheer. But even as it left his throat, the Captain's arm
flew up convulsively, then dropped out of sight in the
mob.

''Job's down!" cried Bob wildly, but the New Eng-
land boy's only reply was a half-choked sob.

Now the tables were turned of a sudden, for three
stout sea-dogs from the Tiger, finishing their first op-
ponents, dashed into the fray with a yell, and Daggs,
hewing his way to the mast, turned to face the new
attack with only two men left on foot to back him.

The fight was short and fierce. First one, then the
other of the buccaneers went down before the furious
assault of Job's seamen. At length only the pirate chief
was left to battle on, terrible and silent, his face set
in a ghastly grin, like the visage of a lone wolf fighting
his last fight.

But the odds were too great. The men of the Tiger
pressed in relentlessly till at last a dozen sword-points
found their mark at once. And so died Pharaoh Daggs,
violently, as he had lived.

263

CHAPTER XXXVI

IT WAS Jeremy who, five minutes later, held Job's
head on his knees, while the weary, bleeding sail-
ors stood silently by with their hats off.

The bo's'n, a grizzled veteran of many sea-fights,
was kneeling beside his Captain with an ear to his side.
There was hope in the man's face when at length he
looked up.

"He's breathin' yet," was his verdict, "breathin', but
not much more. There's half a score of cuts in him, dif-
ferent places. Here, lads, rig a stretcher, an' let's get
him back to the ship."

When the unconscious body of their big friend had
been placed gently in the boat. Bob and Jeremy turned
to each other with sober faces.

"It was a costly sort of victory," said Bob. "This
deck's not a pretty sight, and there's nothing much we
can do to help. Let's have a look at the cabin."

They went below and forced open the door of the
after compartment, which had once housed the great
Stede Bonnet. Instead of its old immaculate and al-
most scholarly appearance, the place now had an air
of desolation. It reeked of filth, stale tobacco-smoke,
and the spilled lees of liquor. In the clutter on the

265

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

cabin table lay two bulging sacks and a small box.

"Well," said Bob, as he felt the weight of one of
the bags, "here's the rest of Brig's gold I"

But Jeremy's attention was occupied. He had picked
up the box from the table and was examining it curi-
ously.

"See here. Bob," he cried, "this is the little chest I
was carrying the night we ran through the woods. I
dropped it when that pirate tackled me. What do you
suppose is in it?"

The box was leather-covered and heavily studded
with nails. Jeremy tried the small padlock and found
it rusty and weak. A hard pull on the staple and it
came away in his hand. He threw open the cover and
the two boys stood back, gasping with astonishment.

There on the lining of soft buckskin lay twelve great
emeralds, gleaming with a clear green light even in
that dark place. They were perfectly matched and as
large as the end of a man's thumb, each cut in a square
pattern after the oldtime fashion. Such stones they
were as could have come only from the coffers of an
oriental king — the ransom, perhaps, of a prince of the
blood, or of the favorite wife of some Maharajah,
seized in one of Solomon Brig's daredevil raids.

Bob found breath at last.

"It's a fortune I" he cried. "They're worth more than

266

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

all the gold together I And they're yours, Jeremy —
yours by right of discovery twice over. You're rich—
you and your father and Tom I Think of it! You can
buy a whole fleet of big ships like the h2dian Queen^
and become a great merchant. You and TU be partners
when we're grown up I" Jubilant, he picked up one of
the sacks of gold and made his way to the deck, fol-
lowed by the half-dazed Jeremy, who carried the rest
of the treasure.

The sun was close to setting when the Tiger's boat
made its last trip to the pirate sloop. This time its er-
rand was a sad one. Silently the crew passed long, limp
bundles across the rail, rowed with them to the beach,
and clambered up the desolate dunes with picks and
shovels in their hands. There, where the wind moaned
in the beach-plum thickets and the white gulls wheeled
and screamed, they dug a long grave and laid the dead
to rest, pirates and honest men together under the win-
try sky.

The boat returned and was hoisted aboard. Just as
the mainsail had been run up and the schooner was fill-
ing away for her northward beat, a single shout from
the crosstrees caused every man to turn his gaze shore-
ward into the gathering dark. A faint glow seemed to
hang in the air above the pirate sloop. A little snaky
flame wriggled its way along a piece of sagging cord-

267

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

age, licked at the edges of a torn sail, and flared out-
ward in a burst of red fire. A moment later, and the
whole schooner was ablaze, from waterline to mast-
head. Jeremy, watching, fascinated, from the Tiger s
rail, thought of the night when he had first seen that
black hull, and of the burning brig that had lit up the
sky as the pirate sloop now illumined it. Her fate was
the same that she had meted out to many a good ship.

They were rapidly drawing away, now. The great
glare of the burning schooner faded out as the flame
devoured her fabric. The foremast toppled and fell in
a shower of sparks. The mainmast followed. Only a
feeble light flickered along the edges of the low-lying
hulk. The faint gleam of it was visible, astern, for some
time before it was swallowed by the dark sea.

The Revenge was gone.

• ••••••

This is the end of my story.

Of the voyage to Boston town; of how Job was
nursed back to health by Phineas Whipple, the best sur-
geon in all the colonies; of the glorious reunion when
Amos Swan and Clarke Curtis rejoined their sons; of
the many pleasant things that Bob and Jeremy found
to do together, after the Swans had come to live in
Philadelphia — of all these things there is not space
enough in this book for me to tell.

Jeremy Swan grew up to be one of the great Amer-

268

THE BLACK BUCCANEER

icans of his day : a man strong, wise and independent.
And although he became rich and highly honored, he
never lost the simplicity of his ways.

Sometimes when he was a hale old man of seventy,
he would take his grandson, who was named Job Cant-
well Swan, on his knee, and tell him stories. But the
story that young Job loved best to hear and that old
Jeremy loved best to tell was about a boy in deerskin
breeches, and the wild days and nights he saw aboard
the Black Buccaneer.

CENTRAL CIRCULATION
CHILDREN'S KOOM

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