Mr. Delaplaine stared in amazement. "Do you mean to say," he exclaimed,
"that you want me to consent to your committing piracy for our benefit?"

"Yes, sir," answered the captain, "that's what I suppose you would call
it; but that's my business."

"Now, sir, I wish you to know that I am a Christian and a gentleman,"
said Mr. Delaplaine.

"That's all very true, bedad," said Captain Ichabod, "but you're also
another thing; you're a human being, and you must eat."

"This is terrible," exclaimed the merchant, "that at my time of life I
should consent to a felony at sea, and to profit by it. I cannot bear to
think of the wickedness and the disgrace of it."

"Most respected sir," said Ichabod, "if the fellows behave themselves
properly and don't offer to fight us, then there'll be no wickedness,
bedad. I can make a good enough show of men to frighten any ordinary
merchant crew so that not a blow need be struck. And that is what I
expect to do, sir. I would not have any disturbance before ladies, you
may be sure of that, bedad. We bear down upon a vessel; we order her to
surrender; we take what we want, and we let her go. Truly, there's no
wickedness in that! And as for the disgrace, we can all better bear that
than starve."

Mr. Delaplaine looked at the pirate without a word. He could not
comprehend how a man with such a frank and honest face could thus avow
his dishonest principles. But as he gazed and wondered the thought of a
scheme flashed across the mind of the merchant, a thoroughly
business-like scheme. This bold young pirate captain might seize upon
such supplies as they were in need of, but he, Felix Delaplaine, of
Spanish Town, Jamaica, would pay for them. Thus might their necessities
be relieved and their consciences kept clean. But he said nothing of
this to Ichabod; the pirate might deem such a proceeding unprofessional
and interpose some objection. Payment would be the merchant's part of
the business, and he would attend to it himself. A look of resignation
now came over Mr. Delaplaine's face.

"Captain," said he, "I must yield to your reason; it is absolutely
necessary that we shall not starve."

Ichabod's face shone and he held out his hand. "Bedad, sir," he cried,
"I honour you as a bold gentleman and a kind one. I will instantly lay
my course somewhat to the eastward, and I promise you, sir, it will not
be long before we run across some of these merchant fellows. I beg you,
sir, speak to your ladies and tell them that there will be no unpleasant
commotion; we may draw our swords and make a fierce show, but, bedad, I
don't believe there'll be any fighting. We shall want so little--for I
would not attempt to take a regular prize with ladies on board--that
the fellows will surely deliver what we demand, the quicker to make an
end of it."

"If you are perfectly sure," said Mr. Delaplaine, "that you can restrain
your men from violence, I would like to be a member of your boarding
party; it would be a rare experience for me."

Now Captain Ichabod fairly shouted with delight.

"Bravo! Bravo!" he exclaimed; "I didn't dream, sir, that you were a man
of such a noble spirit. You shall go with us, sir. Your presence will
aid greatly in making our hoped-for capture a most orderly affair; no
one can look upon you, bedad, without knowing that you are a high-minded
and honourable man, and would not take a box or case from any one if you
did not need it. Now, sir, we shall put about, and by good fortune we
may soon sight a merchantman. Even if it be but a coastwise trader, it
may serve our purpose."

Mr. Delaplaine, with something of a smile upon his sedate face, hurried
to Kate, who was upon the quarter-deck.

"My dear, we are about to introduce a little variety into our dull
lives. As soon as we can overhaul a merchantman we shall commit a
piracy. But don't turn pale; I have arranged it all."

"You!" exclaimed the wide-eyed Kate.

"Yes," said her uncle, and he told his tale.

"And remember this, my dear," he added; "if we cannot pay, we do not
eat. I shall be as relentless as the bloody Blackbeard; if they take not
my money, I shall swear to Ichabod that we touch not their goods."

"And are you sure," she said, "that there will be no bloodshed?"

"I vouch for that," said he, "for I shall lead the boarding party."

She took him by both hands. "Why," she said, "it need be no more than
laying in goods from a store-house; and I cannot but be glad, dear
uncle, for I am so very, very hungry."

Now Dame Charter came running and puffing. "Do you know," she cried,
"that there is to be a piracy? The word has just been passed and the
cook told me. There is to be no bloodshed, and the other ship will not
be burned and the people will not be made to walk a plank. The captain
has given those orders, and he is very firm, swearing, I am told, much
more than is his wont. It is dreadful, it is awful just to think about,
but the provisions are gone, and it is absolutely necessary to do
something, and it will really be very exciting. The cook tells me he
will put me in a good place where I cannot be hurt and where I shall see
everything. And, Mistress Kate and Master Delaplaine, I dare say he can
take care of you too."

Kate looked at her uncle as if to ask if she might tell the good woman
what sort of a piracy this was to be, but he shook his head. It would
not do to interfere any more than was necessary with the regular
progress of events. The captain came up, excited. "Even now, bedad," he
cried, "there are two sails in sight--one far north, and the other to
the eastward, beating up this way. This one we shall make for. We have
the wind with us, which is a good thing, for the Restless is a bad
sailer and has lost many a prize through that fault. And now, Miss," he
said, addressing Kate, "I shall have to ask your leave to take down that
English flag and run up our Jolly Roger. It will be necessary, for if
the fellows fear not our long guns, they may change their course and get
away from us."

"That will be right," said Kate; "if we're going to be pirates, we might
as well be pirates out and out."

Captain Ichabod glowed with delight. "What a girl this was, and what an
uncle!"

It was not long, for the Restless had a fair wind, before the sail to
the eastward came fully into sight. She was, in good truth, a
merchantman, and not a large one. Dame Charter, very much excited,
wondered what she would have on board.

"The cook tells me," said she to Kate, "that sometimes ships from the
other side of the ocean carry the most astonishing and beautiful
things."

"But we shall not see these things," said Kate, "even if that ship
carries them. We shall take but food, and shall not unnecessarily
despoil them of that. We may be pirates, but we shall not be wicked."

"It is hard to see the difference," said Dame Charter, with a sigh, "but
we must eat. The cook tells me that they have made peaceful prizes
before now. This they do when they want some particular thing, such as
food or money, and care not for the trouble of stripping the ship,
putting all on board to death, and then setting her on fire. The cook
never does any boarding himself, so he says, but he stands on the deck
here, armed with his great axe, which likes him better than a cutlass,
and no matter what happens, he defends his kitchen."

"From his looks," said Kate, "I should imagine him to be the fiercest
fighter among them all."

"But that is not so," said Dame Charter; "he tells me that he is of a
very peaceable mind and would never engage in any broils or fights if he
could help it. Look! look!" she cried, "they're running out their long
brass guns; and do you see that other ship, how her sails are fluttering
in the wind? And there, that little spot at the top of her mast; that's
her flag, and it is coming down! Down, down it comes, and I must run to
the cook and ask him what will happen next."




CHAPTER XXXI

MR. DELAPLAINE LEADS A BOARDING PARTY


Steadily southward sailed the brig Black Swan which bore upon its decks
the happy Mander family and our poor friend Dickory, carrying with him
his lifelong destiny in the shape of the blood-stained letter from
Captain Vince.

The sackcloth draperies of Lucilla, with the red cord lightly tied about
them, had given place to a very ordinary gown fashioned by her mother
and herself, which added so few charms to her young face and sparkling
eyes that Dickory often thought that he wished there were some bushes on
deck so that she might stand behind them and let him see only her face,
as he had seen it when first he met her. But he saw the pretty face a
great deal, for Lucilla was very anxious to know things, and asked many
questions about Barbadoes, and also asked if there was any probability
that the brig would go straight on to that lovely island without
bothering to stop at Jamaica. It was during such talks as this that
Dickory forgot, when he did forget, the blood-stained letter that he
carried with him always.

Our young friend still wore the naval uniform, although in coming on the
brig he had changed it for some rough sailor's clothes. But Lucilla had
besought him to be again a brave lieutenant.

They sailed and they sailed, and there was but little wind, and that
from the south and against them. But Lucilla did not complain at their
slow progress. The slowest vessel in the world was preferable just now
to a desert island which never moved.

Davids was at the wheel and Mander stood near him. These old friends had
not yet finished talking about what had happened in the days since they
had seen each other. Mrs. Mander sat, not far away, still making
clothes, and the little Lena was helping her in her childlike way.
Lucilla and Dickory were still talking about Barbadoes. There never was
a girl who wanted to know so much about an island as that girl wanted to
know about Barbadoes.

Suddenly there was a shout from above.

"What's that?" asked Mander.

"A sail," said Davids, peering out over the sea but able to see nothing.
Lucilla and Dickory did not cease talking. At that moment Lucilla did
not care greatly about sails, there was so much to be said about
Barbadoes.

There was a good deal of talking forward, and after a while the captain
walked to the quarter-deck. He was a gruff man and his face was
troubled.

"I am sorry to say," he growled, "that the ship we have sighted is a
pirate; she flies the black flag."

Now there was no more talk about Barbadoes, or what had happened to old
friends, and the sewing dropped on the deck. Those poor Manders were
chilled to the soul. Were they again to be taken by pirates?

"Captain," cried Mander, "what can we do, can we run away from them?"

"We could not run away from their guns," growled the captain, "and there
is nothing to do. They intend to take this brig, and that's the reason
they have run up their skull and bones. They are bearing directly down
upon us with a fair wind; they will be firing a gun presently, and then
I shall lay to and wait for them."

Mander stepped towards Dickory and Lucilla; his voice was husky as he
said: "We cannot expect, my dear, that we shall again be captured by
forbearing pirates. I shall kill my wife and little daughter rather than
they shall fall into the bloody hands of ordinary pirates, and to you,
sir, I will commit the care of my Lucilla. If this vessel is delivered
over to a horde of savages, I pray you, plunge your dirk into her
heart."

"Yes," said Lucilla, clinging to the arm of Dickory, "if those fierce
pirates shall attack us, we will die together."

Dickory shook his head. In an awful moment such as this he could hold
out no illusions. "No," said he, "I cannot die with you; I have a duty
before me, and until it is accomplished I cannot willingly give up my
life. I must rather be even a pirate's slave than that. But I will
accept your father's charge; should there be need, I will kill you."

"Thank you very much," said Lucilla coolly.

To the surprise of the people on the Black Swan there came no shot from
the approaching pirate; but as she still bore down upon them, running
before the wind, the captain of the brig lay to and lowered his flag.
Submission now was all there was before them. No man on the brig took up
arms, nor did the crew form themselves into any show of resistance; that
would have but made matters worse.

As the pirate vessel came on, nearer and nearer, a great number of men
could be seen stretched along her deck, and some brass cannon were
visible trained upon the unfortunate brig.

But, to the surprise of the captain of the Black Swan, and of nearly
everybody on board of her, the pirate did not run down upon her to make
fast and board. Instead of that, she put about into the wind and lay to
less than a quarter of a mile away. Then two boats were lowered and
filled with men, who rowed towards the brig.

"They have special reasons for our capture," said the captain to those
who were crowding about him; "he may be well laden now with plunder, and
comes to us for our gold and silver. Or it may be that he merely wants
the brig. If that be so, he can quickly rid himself of us."

That was a cruel speech when women had to hear it, but the captain was a
rough fellow.

The boats came on as quietly as if they were about to land at a
neighbouring pier. Dickory and Lucilla cautiously peeped over the rail,
Dickory without his hat, and Lucilla, hiding herself, all but a part of
her face, behind him; the Manders crouched together on the deck, the
father with glaring eyes and a knife in his hand. The crew stood, with
their hats removed and their chins lowered, waiting for what might
happen next.

Up to this time Dickory had shown no signs of fear, although his mind
was terribly tossed and disturbed; for, whatever might happen to him, it
possibly would be the end of that mission which was now the only object
of his life. But he grated his teeth together and awaited his fate.

But now, as the boats came nearer, he began to tremble, and gradually
his knees shook under him.

"I would not have believed that he was such a coward as that," thought
Lucilla.

The boats neared the ship and were soon made fast; every help was
offered by the crew of the brig, and not a sign of resistance was shown.
The leader of the pirates mounted to the deck, followed by the greater
part of his men.

For a moment Captain Ichabod glanced about him, and then, addressing the
captain of the brig, he said: "This is all very well. I am glad to see
that you have sense enough to take things as you find them, and not to
stir up a fracas and make trouble. I overhauled you that I might lay in
a stock of provisions, and some wine and spirits besides, having no
desire, if you treat us rightly, to despoil you further. So, we shall
have no more words about it, bedad, and if you will set your men to work
to get on deck such stores as my quarter-master here may demand of you,
we shall get through this business quickly. In the meantime, lower two
or three boats, so that your men can row the goods over to my vessel."

The captain of the Black Swan simply bowed his head and turned away to
obey orders, while Captain Ichabod stepped a little aft and began to
survey the captured vessel. As soon as his back was turned, the captain
of the brig was approached by a very respectable elderly gentleman,
apparently not engaged either in the mercantile marine or in piratical
pursuits, who stopped him and said: "Sir, my name is Felix Delaplaine,
merchant, of Spanish Town, Jamaica. I am, against my will, engaged in
this piratical attack upon your vessel, but I wish to assure you
privately that I will not consent to have you robbed of your property,
and that, although some of your provisions may be taken by these
pirates, I here promise, as an honourable gentleman, to pay you the full
value of all that they seize upon."

The captain of the Black Swan had no opportunity to make an answer to
this most extraordinary statement, for at that moment a naval officer,
shouting at the top of his voice, came rushing towards the respectable
gentleman who had just been making such honourable proposals. Almost at
the same moment there was a great shout from Captain Ichabod, who,
drawing his cutlass from its sheath, raised the glittering blade and
dashed in pursuit of the naval gentleman.

"Hold there! Hold there!" cried the pirate. "Don't you touch him; don't
you lay your hand upon him!"

But Ichabod was not quick enough. Dickory, swift as a stag, stretched
out both his arms and threw them around the neck of the amazed Mr.
Delaplaine.

Now the pirate Ichabod reached the two; his great sword went high in
air, and was about to descend upon the naval person, whoever he was,
who had made such an unprovoked attack upon his honoured passenger,
when his arm was caught by some one from behind. Turning, with a great
curse, his eyes fell upon the face of a young girl.

[Illustration: Lucilla rescues Dickory.]

"Oh, don't kill him! Don't kill him!" she cried, "he will hurt nobody;
he is only hugging the old gentleman."

Captain Ichabod looked from the girl to the two men, who were actually
embracing each other. Dickory's back was towards him, but the face of
Mr. Delaplaine fairly glowed with delight.

"Oho!" said Ichabod, turning to Lucilla, "and what does this mean,
bedad?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but the gentleman in the uniform is a
good man. Perhaps the other one is his father."

"To my eyes," said Captain Ichabod, "this is a most fearsome mix."

The Mander family, and nearly everybody else on board, crowded about the
little group, gazing with all their eyes but asking no questions.

"Captain Ichabod," exclaimed Mr. Delaplaine, holding Dickory by the
hand, "this is one of the two persons you were taking us to find. This
is Dickory Charter, the son of good Dame Charter, now on your vessel. He
went away with Blackbeard, and we were in search of him."

"Oho!" cried Captain Ichabod, "by my life I believe it. That's the
young fellow that Blackbeard dressed up in a cocked hat and took away
with him."

"I am the same person, sir," said Dickory.

"So far so good," said Captain Ichabod. "I am very glad that I did not
bring down my cutlass on you, which I should have done, bedad, had it
not been for this young woman."

Now up spoke Mr. Delaplaine. "We have found you, Dickory," he cried,
"but what can you tell us of Major Bonnet?"

"Ay, ay," added Captain Ichabod, "there's another one we're after;
where's the runaway Sir Nightcap?"

"Alas!" said Dickory, "I do not know. I escaped from Blackbeard, and
since that day have heard nothing. I had supposed that Captain Bonnet
was in your company, Mr. Delaplaine."

Now the captain of the Black Swan pushed himself forward. "Is it Captain
Bonnet, lately of the pirate ship Revenge, that you're talking about?"
he asked. "If so, I may tell you something of him. I am lately from
Charles Town, and the talk there was that Blackbeard was lying outside
the harbour in Stede Bonnet's old vessel, and that Bonnet had lately
joined him. I did not venture out of port until I had had certain news
that these pirates had sailed northward. They had two or three ships,
and the talk was that they were bound to the Virginias, and perhaps
still farther north. They were fitted out for a long cruise."

"Gone again!" exclaimed Mr. Delaplaine in a hoarse voice. "Gone again!"

Captain Ichabod's face grew clouded.

"Gone north of Charles Town," he exclaimed, "that's bad, bedad, that's
very bad. You are sure he did not sail southward?" he asked of the
captain of the brig.

That gruff mariner was in a strange state of mind. He had just been
captured by a pirate, and in the next moment had made, what might be a
very profitable sale, to a respectable merchant, of the goods the pirate
was about to take from him. Moreover, the said pirate seemed to be in
the employ of said merchant, and altogether, things seemed to him to be
in as fearsome a mix as they had seemed to Captain Ichabod, but he
brought his mind down to the question he had been asked.

"No doubt about that," said he; "there were some of his men in the
town--for they are afraid of nobody--and they were not backward in
talking."

"That upsets things badly," said Captain Ichabod, without unclouding his
brow. "With my slow vessel and my empty purse, bedad, I don't see how I
am ever goin' to catch Blackbeard if he has gone north. Finding
Blackbeard would have been a handful of trumps to me, but the game seems
to be up, bedad."

The captain of the brig and Ichabod's quarter-master went away to
attend to the transfer of the needed goods to the Restless. Mander, with
his wife and little daughter, were standing together gazing with
amazement at the strange pirates who had come aboard, while Lucilla
stepped up to Dickory, who stood silent, with his eyes on the deck.

"Can you tell me what this means?" said she.

For a moment he did not answer, and then he said: "I don't know
everything myself, but I must presently go on board that vessel."

"What!" exclaimed Lucilla, stepping back. "Is she there?"

"Yes," said Dickory.




CHAPTER XXXII

THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTER


The sea was smooth and the wind light, and the transfer of provisions
from the Black Swan to the pirate sloop, which two ships now lay as near
each other as safety would permit, was accomplished quietly.

During the progress of the transfer Captain Ichabod's boat was rowed
back to his ship, and its arrival was watched with great interest by
everybody on board that pirate sloop. Kate and Dame Charter, as well as
all the men who stood looking over the rail, were amazed to see a naval
officer accompanying the captain and Mr. Delaplaine on their return. But
that amazement was greatly increased when that officer, as soon as he
set foot upon the deck, removed his hat and made directly for Dame
Charter, who, with a scream loud enough to frighten the fishes, enfolded
him in her arms and straightway fainted. It was like a son coming up out
of the sea, sure enough, as she afterward stated. Kate, recognising
Dickory, hurried to him with a scream of her own and both hands
outstretched, but the young fellow, who seemed greatly distressed at the
unconscious condition of his mother, did not greet Mistress Bonnet with
the enthusiastic delight which might have been expected under the
circumstances. He seemed troubled and embarrassed, which, perhaps, was
not surprising, for never before had he seen his mother faint.

Kate was about to offer some assistance, but as the good Dame now showed
signs of returning consciousness, she thought it would be better to
leave the two together, and in a state of amazement she was hurrying to
her uncle when Dickory rose from the side of his mother and stopped her.

"I have a letter for you," he said, in a husky voice.

"A letter?" she cried, "from my father?"

"No," said he, "from Captain Vince." And he handed her the blood-stained
missive.

Kate turned pale and stared at him; here was horrible mystery. The
thought flashed through the young girl's mind that the wicked captain
had killed her father and had written to tell her so.

"Is my father dead?" she gasped.

"Not that I know of," said Dickory.

"Where is he?" she cried.

"I do not know," was the answer.

She stood, holding the letter, while Dickory returned to his mother.
Mr. Delaplaine saw her standing thus, pale and shocked, but he did not
hasten to her. He had sad things to say to her, for his practical mind
told him that it would not be possible to continue the search for her
father, he having put himself out of the reach of Captain Ichabod and
his inefficient sloop. If Dickory had said anything about her father
which had so cast her down, how much harder would it be for him when he
had to tell her the whole truth.


But Kate did not wait for further speech from anybody. She gave a great
start, and then rushed down the companion-way to her cabin. There, with
her door shut, she opened the letter. This was the letter, written in
lead pencil, in an irregular but bold hand, with some letters partly
dimmed where the paper had been damp:

     "At the very end of my life I write to you that you have escaped
     the fiercest love that ever a man had for a woman. I shall carry
     this love with me to hell, if it may be, but you have escaped it.
     This escape is a blessing, and now that I cannot help it I give it
     to you. Had I lived, I should have shed the blood of every one whom
     you loved to gain you and you would have cursed me. So love me now
     for dying.

                               "Yours, anywhere and always,
                                       CHRISTOPHER VINCE."


Kate put down the letter and some colour came into her face; she bowed
her head in thankful prayer.

"He is dead," she said, "and now he cannot harm my father." That was the
only thought she had regarding this hot-brained and infatuated lover. He
was dead, her father was safe from him. How he died, how Dickory came to
bring the letter, how anything had happened that had happened except the
death of Captain Vince, did not at this moment concern her. Not until
now had she known how the fear of the vengeful captain of the Badger had
constantly been with her.

Over and over again Dickory told his tale to his mother. She interrupted
him so much with her embraces that he could not explain things clearly
to her, but she did not care, she had him with her. He was with her, and
she had fast hold of him, and she would never let him go again. What
mattered it what sort of clothes he wore, or where he had escaped
from--a family on a desert island or from a pirate crew? She had him,
and her happiness knew no bounds. Dickory was perfectly willing to stay
with her and to talk to her. He did not care to be with anybody else,
not even with Mistress Kate, who had taken so much interest in him all
the time he had been away; though, of course, not so much interest as
his own dear mother.

Then the good Dame Charter, being greatly recovered and so happy, began
to talk of herself. Slipping in a disjointed way over her various
experiences, she told her dear boy, in strictest confidence, that she
was very much disappointed in the way pirates took ships. She thought it
was going to be something very exciting that she would remember to the
end of her days, and wake up in the middle of the night and scream when
she thought of it, but it was nothing of the kind; not a shot was fired,
not a drop of blood shed; there was not even a shout or a yell or a
scream for mercy. It was all like going into the pantry to get the flour
and the sugar. She was all the time waiting for something to happen, and
nothing ever did. Dickory smiled, but it was like watered milk.

"I do not understand such piracy," he said, "but supposed, dear mother,
that these pirates had taken that ship in the usual way, I being on
board."

At this he was clasped so tightly to his mother's breast that he could
say no more.

The boats plied steadily between the two vessels, and on one of the
trips Mr. Delaplaine went over to the brig on business, and also glad to
escape for a little the dreaded interview which must soon come between
himself and his niece.

"Now, sir," said the merchant to the captain of the brig, "you will make
a bill against me for the provisions which are being taken to that
pirate, but I hope you have reserved a sufficient store of food for
your own maintenance until you reach a port, and that of myself and two
women who wish to sail with you, craving most earnestly that you will
land us in Jamaica or in some place convenient of access to that
island."

"Which I can do," said the captain, "for I am bound to Kingston; and as
to subsistence, shall have plenty."

On the brig Mr. Delaplaine found Captain Ichabod, who had come over to
superintend operations, and who was now talking to the pretty girl who
had seized him by the arm when he was about to slay the naval officer.

"I would talk with you, captain," said the merchant, "on a matter of
immediate import." And he led the pirate away from the pretty girl.

The matter to be discussed was, indeed, of deep import.

"I am loath to say it, sir," said Mr. Delaplaine, "when I think of the
hospitality and most exceptional kindness with which you have treated me
and my niece, and for which we shall feel grateful all our lives, but I
think you will agree with me that it would be useless for us to pursue
the search after that most reprehensible person, my brother-in-law,
Bonnet. There can be no doubt, I believe, that he and Blackbeard have
left the vicinity of Charles Town, and have gone, we know not where."

"No doubt of that, bedad," said Ichabod, knitting his brows as he
spoke; "if Blackbeard had been outside the harbour, this brig would not
have been here."

"And, therefore, sir," continued Mr. Delaplaine, "I have judged it to be
wise, and indeed necessary, for us to part company with you, sir, and to
take passage on this brig, which, by a most fortunate chance, is bound
for Kingston. My niece, I know, will be greatly disappointed by this
course of events, but we have no choice but to fall in with them."

"I don't like to agree with you," said the captain, "but, bedad, I am
bound to do it. I am disappointed myself, sir, but I have been
disappointed so often that I suppose I ought to be used to it. If I had
caught up with Blackbeard I should have been all right, and after I had
settled your affairs--and I know I could have done that--I think I would
have joined him. But all I can do now is to hammer along at the
business, take prizes in the usual way, and wait for Blackbeard to come
south again, and then I'll either sell out or join him."

"It is a great pity, sir," said Mr. Delaplaine, "a great pity--"

"Yes, it is," interrupted Ichabod, "it's a very great pity, sir, a very
great pity. If I had known more about ships when I bought the Restless I
would have had a faster craft, and by this time I might have been a man
of comfortable means. But that sloop over there, bedad, is so slow,
that many a time, sir, I have seen a fat merchantman sail away from her
and leave us, in spite of our guns, cursing and swearing, miles behind.
I am sorry to have you leave me, sir, and with your ladies; but, as you
say, here's your chance to get home, and I don't know when I could give
you another."

Mr. Delaplaine replied courteously and gratefully, and by the next boat
he went back to the Restless. Captain Ichabod, his brow still clouded by
the approaching separation, walked over to Lucilla and continued his
conversation with her about the island of Barbadoes, a subject of which
he knew very little and she nothing.

When Kate returned to the deck she found Dickory alone, Dame Charter
having gone to talk to the cook about the wonderful things which had
happened, of which she knew very little and he nothing at all.

"Dickory," said Kate, "I want to talk to you, and that quickly. I have
heard nothing of what has happened to you. How did you get possession of
the letter you brought me, and what do you know of Captain Vince?"

"I can tell you nothing," he said, without looking at her, "until you
tell me what I ought to know about Captain Vince." And as he said this
he could not help wondering in his heart that there were no signs of
grief about her.

"Ought to know?" she repeated, regarding him earnestly. "Well, you and I
have been always good friends, and I will tell you." And then she told
him the story of the captain of the Badger; of his love-making and of
his commission to sail upon the sea and destroy the pirate ship Revenge,
and all on board of her.

"And now," she said, as she concluded, "I think it would be well for you
to read this letter." And she handed him the missive he had carried so
long and with such pain. He read the bold, uneven lines, and then he
turned and looked upon her, his face shining like the morning sky.

"Then you have never loved him?" he gasped.

"Why should I?" said Kate.

In spite of the fact that there were a great many people on board that
pirate sloop who might see him; in spite of the fact that there were
people in boats plying upon the water who might notice his actions,
Dickory fell upon his knees before Kate, and, seizing her hand, he
pressed it to his lips.

"Why should I?" said Kate, quietly drawing her hand from him, "for I
have a devoted lover already--Master Martin Newcombe, of Barbadoes."

Dickory, repulsed, rose to his feet, but his face did not lose its glow.
He had heard so much about Martin Newcombe that he had ceased to mind
him.

"To think of it!" he cried, "to think how I stood and watched him
fight; how I admired and marvelled at his wonderful strength and skill,
his fine figure, and his flashing eye! How my soul went out to him, how
I longed that he might kill that scoundrel Blackbeard! And all the time
he was your enemy, he was my enemy, he was a viler wretch than even the
bloody pirate who killed him. Oh, Kate, Kate! if I had but known."

"Miss Kate, if you please," said the girl. "And it is well, Dickory, you
did not know, for then you might have jumped upon him and stuck him in
the back, and that would have been dishonourable."

"He thought," said Dickory, not in the least abashed by his reproof,
"that the Revenge was commanded by your father, for he sprang upon the
deck, shouting for the captain, and when he saw Blackbeard I heard him
exclaim in surprise, 'A sugar-planter!'"

"And he would have killed my father?" said Kate, turning pale at the
thought.

"Yes," replied Dickory, "he would have killed any man except the great
Blackbeard. And to think of it! I stood there watching them, and wishing
that vile Englishman the victory. Oh, Kate! you should have seen that
wonderful pirate fight. No man could have stood before him." Then, with
sparkling eyes and waving arms, he told her of the combat. When he had
finished, the souls of these two young people were united in an
overpowering admiration, almost reverence, for the prowess and strength
of the wicked and bloody pirate who had slain the captain of the Badger.

When Mr. Delaplaine came on board, Kate, who had been waiting, took him
aside.

"Uncle," she exclaimed, "I have great news. Captain Vince is dead. At
last he came up with the Revenge, but instead of finding my father in
command he found Blackbeard, who killed him. Now my father is safe!"

The good man scarcely knew what to say to this bright-faced girl, whose
father's safety was all the world to her. If he had heard that his
worthless and wicked brother-in-law had been killed, it would have been
trouble and sorrow for the present, but it would have been peace for the
future. But he was a Christian gentleman and a loving uncle, and he
banished this thought from his heart. He listened to Kate as she rapidly
went on talking, but he did not hear her; his mind was busy with the
news he had to tell her--the news that she must give up her loving
search and go back with him to Spanish Town.

"And now, uncle," said Kate, "there's another thing I want to say to
you. Since this great grief has been lifted from my soul, since I know
that no wrathful and vindictive captain of a man-of-war is scouring the
seas, armed with authority to kill my father and savage for his life, I
feel that it is not right for me to put other people who are so good to
me to sad discomfort and great expense to try to follow my father into
regions far away, and to us almost unknown.

"Some day he will come back into this part of the world, and I hope he
may return disheartened and weary of his present mode of life, and then
I may have a better chance of winning him back to the domestic life he
used to love so much. But he is safe, uncle, and that is everything now,
and so I came to say to you that I think it would be well for us to
relieve this kind Captain Ichabod from the charges and labours he has
taken upon himself for our sakes and, if it be possible, engage that
ship yonder to take us back to Jamaica; she was sailing in that
direction, and her captain might be induced to touch at Kingston. This
is what I have been thinking about, dear uncle, and do you not agree
with me?"

High rose the spirits of the good Mr. Delaplaine; banished was all the
overhanging blackness of his dreaded interview with Kate. The sky was
bright, her soul was singing songs of joy and thankfulness, and his soul
might join her. He never appreciated better than now the blessings which
might be shed upon humanity by the death of a bad man. His mind even
gambolled a little in his relief.

"But, Kate," he said, "if we leave that kind Captain Ichabod, and he be
not restrained by our presence, then, my dear, he will return to his
former evil ways, and his next captures will not be like this one, but
like ordinary piracies, sinful in every way."

"Uncle," said Kate, looking up into his face, "it is too much to ask of
one young girl to undertake the responsibilities of two pirates; I hope
some day to be of benefit to my poor father, but when it comes to
Captain Ichabod, kind as he has been, I am afraid I will have to let him
go and manage the affairs of his soul for himself."

Her uncle smiled upon her. Now that he was to go back to his home and
take this dear girl with him, he was ready to smile at almost anything.
That he thought one pirate much better worth saving than the other, and
that his choice did not agree with that of his niece, was not for him
even to think about at such a happy moment. It was not long after this
conversation that the largest boat belonging to the Restless was rowed
over to the brig, and in it sat, not only Kate, Dame Charter, and
Dickory, but Captain Ichabod, who would accompany his guests to take
proper leave of them. The crew of the pirate sloop crowded themselves
along her sides, and even mounted into her shrouds, waving their hats
and shouting as the boat moved away. The cook was the loudest shouter,
and his ragged hat waved highest. And, as Dame Charter shook her
handkerchief above her head and gazed back at her savage friend, there
was a moisture in her eyes. Up to this moment she never would have
believed that she would have grieved to depart from a pirate vessel and
to leave behind a pirate cook.

Lucilla watched carefully the newcomers as they ascended to the deck of
the Black Swan. "That is the girl," she said to herself, "and I am not
surprised."

A little later she remarked to Captain Ichabod, who sat by her: "Are
they mother and daughter, those two?"

"Oh, no," said he. "Mistress Bonnet is too fine a lady and too beautiful
to be daughter to that old woman, who is her attendant and the mother of
the young fellow in the cocked hat."

"Too fine and beautiful!" repeated Lucilla.

"I greatly grieve to leave you all," continued the young pirate captain,
"although some of you I have known so short a time. It will be very
lonely when I sail away with none to speak to save the bloody dogs I
command, who may yet throttle me. And it is to Barbadoes you go to
settle with your family?"

"That is our destination," said Lucilla, "but I know not if we shall
find the money to settle there; we were taken by pirates and lost
everything."

Now the captain of the brig came up to Ichabod and informed him that the
goods he demanded had been delivered on board his vessel, and that the
brig was ready to sail. It was the time for leave-taking, but Ichabod
was tardy. Presently he approached Kate, and drew her to one side.

"Dear lady," he said, and his voice was hesitating, while a slight flush
of embarrassment appeared on his face, "you may have thought, dear
lady," he repeated, "you may have thought that so fair a being as
yourself should have attracted during the days we have sailed
together--may have attracted, bedad, I mean--the declared admiration
even of a fellow like myself, we being so much together; but I had heard
your story, fair lady, and of the courtship paid you by Captain Vince of
the corvette Badger--whose family I knew in England--and, acknowledging
his superior claims, I constantly refrained, though not without great
effort (I must say that much for myself, fair lady), from--from--"

"Addressing me, I suppose you mean," said Kate. "What you say, kind
captain, redounds to your honour, and I thank you for your noble
consideration, but I feel bound to tell you that there was never
anything between me and Captain Vince, and he is now dead."

The young pirate stepped back suddenly and opened wide his eyes. "What!"
he exclaimed, "and all the time you were--"

"Not free," she interrupted with a smile, "for I have a lover on the
island of Barbadoes."

"Barbadoes," repeated Captain Ichabod, and he bade Kate a most
courteous farewell.

All the good-byes had been said and good wishes had been wished, when,
just as he was about to descend to his boat, Captain Ichabod turned to
Lucilla. "And it is truly to Barbadoes you go?" he asked.

"Yes," said she, "I think we shall certainly do that."

Now his face flushed. "And do you care for that fellow in the cocked
hat?"

Here was a cruel situation for poor Lucilla. She must lie or lose two
men. She might lose them anyway, but she would not do it of her own free
will, and so she lied.

"Not a whit!" said Lucilla.

The eyes of Ichabod brightened as he went down the side of the brig.




CHAPTER XXXIII

BLACKBEARD GIVES GREENWAY SOME DIFFICULT WORK


The great pirate Blackbeard, inactive and taking his ease, was seated on
the quarter-deck of his fine vessel, on which he had lately done some
sharp work off the harbour of Charles Town. He was now commanding a
small fleet. Besides the ship on which he sailed, he had two other
vessels, well manned and well laden with supplies from his recent
captures. Satisfied with conquest, he was sailing northward to one of
his favourite resorts on the North Carolina coast.

To this conquering hero now came Ben Greenway, the Scotchman, touching
his hat.

"And what do you want?" cried the burly pirate. "Haven't they given you
your prize-money yet, or isn't it enough?"

"Prize-money!" exclaimed Greenway. "I hae none o' it, nor will I hae
any. What money I hae--an' it is but little--came to me fairly."

"Oho!" cried Blackbeard, "and you have money then, have you? Is it
enough to make it worth my while to take it?"

"Ye can count it an' see, whenever ye like," said Ben. "But it isna
money that I came to talk to ye about. I came to ask ye, at the first
convenient season, to put me on board that ship out there, that I may be
in my rightful place by the side o' Master Bonnet."

"And what good are you to him, or he to you," asked the pirate, with a
fine long oath, "that I should put myself to that much trouble?"

"I have the responsibeelity o' his soul on my hands," said Ben, "an'
since we left Charles Town I hae not seen him, he bein' on ane ship an'
I on anither."

"And very well that is too," said Blackbeard, "for I like each of you
better separate. And now look ye, me kirk bird, you have not done very
well with your 'responsibeelities' so far, and you might as well make up
your mind to stop trying to convert that sneak of a Nightcap and take up
the business of converting me. I'm in great need of it, I can tell you."

"You!" cried Ben.

"I tell you, yes," shouted Blackbeard, "it is I, myself, that I am
talking about. I want to be converted from the evil of my ways, and I
have made up my mind that you shall do it. You are a good and a pious
man, and it is not often that I get hold of one of that kind; or, if I
do, I slice off his head before I discover his quality."

"I fear me," said the truthful Scotchman, "that the job is beyond my
abeelity."

"Not a bit of it, not a bit of it," shouted the pirate. "I am fifty
times easier to work upon than that Nightcap man of yours, and a hundred
times better worth the trouble. I put no trust in that downfaced farmer.
When he shouts loudest for the black flag he is most likely to go into
priestly orders, and the better is he reformed the quicker is he to rob
and murder. He is of the kind the devil wants, but it is of no use for
any one to show him the way there, he is well able to find it for
himself. But it is different with me, you canny Scotchman, it is
different with me. I am an open-handed and an open-mouthed scoundrel,
and I never pretended to be anything else. When you begin reforming me
you will find your work half done."

The Scotchman shook his head. "I fear me--" he said.

"No, you don't fear yourself," cried Blackbeard, "and I won't have it; I
don't want any of that lazy piety on board my vessel. If you don't
reform me, and do it rightly, I'll slice off both your ears."

At this moment a man came aft, carrying a great tankard of mixed drink.
Blackbeard took it and held it in his hand.

"Now then, you balking chaplain," he cried, "here's a chance for you to
begin. What would you have me do? Drain off this great mug and go
slashing among my crew, or hurl it, mug and all--"

"Nay, nay," cried Greenway, "but rather give half o' it to me; then will
it no' disturb your brain, an' mine will be comforted."

"Heigho!" cried Blackbeard. "Truly you are a better chaplain than I
thought you. Drain half this mug and then, by all the powers of heaven
and hell, you shall convert me. Now, look ye," said the pirate, when the
mug was empty, "and hear what a brave repentance I have already begun. I
am tired, my gay gardener, of all these piracies; I have had enough of
them. Even now, my spoils and prizes are greater than I can manage, and
why should I strive to make them more? I told you of my young
lieutenant, who ran away and who gave his carcass to the birds of prey
rather than sail with me and marry my strapping daughter. I liked that
fellow, Greenway, and if he had known what was well for him there might
be some reason for me to keep on piling up goods and money, but there's
cursed little reason for it now. I have merchandise of value at Belize
and much more of it in these ships, besides money from Charles Town
which ought to last an honest gentleman for the rest of his days."

"Ay," said Ben, "but an honest gentleman is sparing of his
expenditures."

"And you think I am not that kind of a man, do you?" shouted the
pirate. "But let me tell you this. I am sailing now for Topsail Inlet,
on the North Carolina coast, and I am going to run in there, disperse
this fleet, sell my goods, and--"

"Be hanged?" interpolated Greenway in surprise.

"Not a bit of it, you croaking crow!" roared the pirate. "Not a bit of
it. Don't you know, you dull-head, that our good King George has issued
a proclamation to the Brethren of the Coast to come in and behave
themselves like honest citizens and receive their pardon? I have done
that once, and so I know all about it; but I backslid, showing that my
conversion was badly done."

"It must hae been a poor hand that did the job for ye," said Greenway,
"for truly the conversion washed off in the first rain."

The pirate laughed a great laugh. "The fact is," he said, "I did the
work myself, and knowing nothing about it made a bad botch of it, but
this time it will be different. I am going to give the matter into your
hands, and I shall expect you to do it well. If I become not an honest
gentleman this time you shall pay for it, first with your ears and then
with your head."

"An' ye're goin' to keep me by ye?" said Greenway, with an expression
not of the best.

"Truly so," said Blackbeard. "I shall make you my clerk as long as I am
a pirate, for I have much writing and figuring work to be done, and
after that you shall be my chaplain. And whether or not your work will
be easier than it is now, it is not for me to say."

The Scotchman was about to make an exclamation which might not have been
complimentary, but he restrained himself.

"An' Master Bonnet?" he asked. "If ye go out o' piracy he may go too,
and take the oath."

"Of course he may," cried the pirate, "and of course he shall; I will
see to that myself. Then I will give him back his ship, for I don't want
it, and let him become an honest merchant."

"Give him back his ship!" exclaimed Greenway, his countenance downcast.
"That will be puttin' into his hands the means o' beginnin' again a life
o' sin. I pray ye, don't do that."

Blackbeard leaned back and laughed. "I swear that I thought it would be
one of the very first steps in conversion for me to give back to the
fellow the ship which is his own and which I have taken from him. But
fear not, my noble pirate's clerk; he is not the man that I am; he is a
vile coward, and when he has taken the oath he will be afraid to break
it. Moreover--"

"And if, with that ship," said Greenway, his eyes beginning to sparkle,
"he become an honest merchant--"

"I don't trust him," said Blackbeard; "he is a knave and a sharper, and
there is no truth in him. But when you have settled up my business, my
clerk, and have gotten me well converted, I will send you away with him,
and you shall take up again the responsibility of his soul."

The Scotchman clapped his horny hands together. "And once I get him back
to Bridgetown, I will burn his cursed ship!"

"Heigho!" cried Blackbeard, "and that will be your way of converting
him? You know your business, my royal chaplain, you know it well." And
with that he gave Greenway a tremendous slap on the back which would
have dashed to the deck an ordinary man, but Ben Greenway was a
Scotchman, tough as a yew-tree.




CHAPTER XXXIV

CAPTAIN THOMAS OF THE ROYAL JAMES


When Blackbeard's little fleet anchored in Topsail Inlet, Stede Bonnet,
who had not been informed of the intentions of the pirate, was a good
deal puzzled. Since joining Blackbeard's fleet in the vessel which came
up from Belize, Bonnet had considered himself very shabbily treated, and
his reasons for that opinion were not bad. During the engagements off
Charles Town his services had not been required and his opinion had not
been consulted, Blackbeard having no use for the one and no respect for
the other. The pirate captain had taken a fancy to Ben Greenway, while
his contempt for the Scotchman's master increased day by day; and it was
for this reason that Greenway had been taken on board the flag-ship,
while Bonnet remained on one of the smaller vessels.