 CHAPTER II THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND It is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a man because of something that his grandfather may have done amiss, but the world, which is never over nice in its discrimination as to where to lay the blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer in the place of the guilty. Barnaby True was a good, honest, biddable lad, as boys go, but yet he was not ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather had been that very famous pirate, Captain William Brand, who, after so many marvelous adventures, if one may believe the catch-penny stories and ballads that were written about him, was murdered in Jamaica by Captain John Malio, the commander of his own consort, the Adventure Galley. It has never been denied, that ever I heard, that up to the time of Captain Brand's being commissioned against the South Sea Pirates he had always been esteemed as honest, reputable, a sea captain as could be. When he started out upon that adventure it was with a ship, the Royal Sovereign, fitted out by some of the most decent merchants of New York. The governor himself had subscribed to the adventure, and had himself signed Captain Brand's commission, so if the unfortunate man went astray he must have had great temptation to do so, many others behaving no better when the opportunity offered in those faraway seas where so many rich purchases might easily be taken and no one the wiser. To be sure, those stories and ballads made our Captain to be a most wicked, profane wretch, and if he were, why, God knows he suffered and paid for it, for he laid his bones in Jamaica, and never saw his home or his wife and daughter again after he had sailed away on the Royal Sovereign on that long, unfortunate voyage leaving them in New York to the care of strangers. At the time when he met his fate in Port Royal Harbor he had obtained two vessels under his command, the Royal Sovereign, which was the boat fitted out for him in New York, and the Adventure Galley, which he was said to have taken somewhere in the South Seas. With these he lay in those waters of Jamaica for over a month after his return from the coasts of Africa, waiting for news from home which, when it came, was of the very blackest. For the colonial authorities were at that time stirred up very hot against him to take him and hang him for a pirate, so as to clear their own skirts for having to do with such a fellow. So maybe it seemed better to our Captain to hide his ill-gotten treasure there in those faraway parts, and afterward to try and bargain with it for his life when he should reach New York, rather than to sail straight for the Americas with what he had earned by his piracies, and so risk losing life and money both. However that might be, the story was that Captain Brand and his gunner, and Captain Malyo of the Adventure, and the sailing master of the Adventure, all went ashore together with a chest of money, no one of them choosing to trust the other three in so nice an affair, and buried the treasure somewhere on the beach of Port Royal Harbor. The story then has it that they fell a quarreling about a future division of the money, and that, as a wind-up to the affair, Captain Malyo shot Captain Brand through the head, while the sailing master of the Adventure served the gunner of the Royal Sovereign after the same fashion through the body, and that the murderers then went away, leaving the two stretched out in their own blood on the sand in the staring sun, with no one to know where the money was hid but they too, who had served their comrades so. It is a mighty great pity that anyone should have a grandfather who ended his days in such a sort as this, but it was no fault of Barnaby Trues, nor could he have done anything to prevent it, seeing that he was not even born into the world at the time that his grandfather turned pirate, and was only one year old when he so met his tragical end. Nevertheless the boys with whom he went to school never tired of calling him pirate, and would sometimes sing for his benefit that famous catch-penny song beginning thus. O my name was Captain Brand, a sailing and a sailing, O my name was Captain Brand, a sailing free, O my name was Captain Brand, and I sinned by sea and land, for I broke God's just command, a sailing free. It was a vile thing to sing at the grandson of so misfortunate a man, and oftentimes little Barnaby Trues would double up his fists and would fight his tormentors at great odds, and would sometimes go back home with a bloody nose to have his poor mother cry over him and grieve for him. Not that his days were all of teasing and torment, neither, for if his comrades did treat him so, why, then there were other times when he and they were as great friends as could be, and would go swimming together where there was a bit of sandy strand along the east river above Fort George, and that in the most amicable fashion. Or maybe the very next day after he had fought so with his fellows he would go a-rambling with them up the Bowery Road, perhaps to help them steal cherries from some old Dutch farmer for getting in such adventure what a thief his own grandfather had been. Well, when Barnaby Trues was between sixteen and seventeen years old, he was taken into employment in the counting house of Mr. Roger Hartwright, the well-known West India merchant and Barnaby's own stepfather. It was the kindness of this good man that not only found a place for Barnaby in the counting house, but advanced him so fast that against our hero was twenty-one years old he had made four voyages as supercargo to the West Indies in Mr. Hartwright's ship, the Bell Helen, and soon after he was twenty-one undertook a fifth. Nor was it in any such subordinate position as mere supercargo that he acted, but rather as the confidential agent of Mr. Hartwright, who, having no children of his own, was very jealous to advance our hero into a position of trust and responsibility in the counting house, as though he were indeed a son, so that even the captain of the ship had scarcely more consideration aboard than he young as he was in years. As for the agents and correspondence of Mr. Hartwright throughout these parts, they also, knowing how the good man had adopted his interests, were very polite and obliging to Master Barnaby, especially, be it mentioned, Mr. Ambrose Greenfield of Kingston, Jamaica, who, upon the occasions of his visits to those parts, did all that he could to make Barnaby's stay in that town agreeable and pleasant to him. So much for the history of our hero to the time of the beginning of this story, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purport of those most extraordinary adventures that befell him shortly after he came of age, nor the logic of their consequence after they had occurred. For it was during his fifth voyage to the West Indies that the first of those extraordinary adventures happened of which I shall have presently to tell. At that time he had been in Kingston for the best part of four weeks, lodging at the house of a very decent, respectable widow by name Mrs. Ann Bowles, who, with three pleasant and agreeable daughters, kept a very clean and well-served lodging-house in the outskirts of the town. One morning, as our hero set, sipping his coffee, clad only in loose cotton drawers, a shirt and a jacket, and with slippers upon his feet, as is the custom in that country, where everyone endeavors to keep as cool as may be, while he sat thus sipping his coffee, Miss Eliza, the youngest of the three daughters, came and gave him a note, which, she said, a stranger had just handed in at the door, going away again without waiting for a reply. You may judge of Barnaby's surprise when he opened the note and read as follows. Mr. Barnaby True. Sir, though you don't know me, I know you, and I tell you this. If you will be at Pratt's Ordinary on Harbour Street on Friday, next at eight o'clock of the evening, and will accompany the man who shall say to you, the royal sovereign is come in, you shall learn something the most to your advantage that ever befell you. Sir, keep this note, and show it to him who shall address these words to you, so to certify that you are the man he seeks. Such was the wording of the note, which was without address, and without any superscription whatever. The first emotion that stirred Barnaby was one of extreme and profound amazement. Then the thought came into his mind that some witty fellow, of whom he knew a good many in that town, and wild, waggish pranks they were, was attempting to play off some smart jest upon him. But all that Miss Eliza could tell him when he questioned her concerning the messenger was that the bearer of the note was a tall, stout man, with a red neckerchief around his neck and copper buckles to his shoes, and that he had the appearance of a sailor man, having a great big cue hanging down his back. But Lord, what was such a description as that in a busy sea-port town full of scores of men to fit such a likeness? Accordingly our hero put away the note into his wallet, determining to show it to his good friend Mr. Greenfield that evening and to ask his advice upon it. So he did show it, and that gentleman's opinion was the same as his, that some wagg was minded to play off a hoax upon him, and that the matter of the letter was all nothing but smoke. Nevertheless, though Barnaby was thus confirmed in his opinion as to the nature of the communication he had received, he yet determined in his own mind that he would see the business through to the end, and would be at Pratt's ordinary, as the note demanded, upon the day and at the time specified therein. Pratt's ordinary was at that time a very fine and well known place of its sort, with good tobacco and the best rum that ever I tasted, and had a garden behind it that, sloping down to the harbour front, was planted pretty thick with palms and ferns grouped into clusters with flowers and plants. Here were a number of little tables, some in little grottoes, like our of O'Hall in New York, and with red and blue and white paper lanterns hung among the foliage, where the gentlemen and ladies used sometimes to go of an evening to sit and drink lime juice and sugar and water, and sometimes a taste of something stronger, and to look out across the water at the shipping in the cool of the night. Thither, accordingly, our hero went, a little before the time appointed in the note, and passing directly through the ordinary and the garden beyond, chose a table at the lower end of the garden and close to the water's edge, where he would not be easily seen by anyone coming into the place. Then, ordering some rum and water and a pipe of tobacco, he composed himself to watch for the appearance of those witty fellows whom he suspected would presently come thither to see the end of their prank and to enjoy his confusion. The spot was pleasant enough. For the land breeze, blowing strong and full, set the leaves of the palm tree above his head to rattling and clattering continually against the sky, where, the moon then being about full, they shone every now and then like blades of steel. The waves also were splashing up against the little landing place at the foot of the garden, sounding very cool in the night, and sparkling all over the harbor where the moon caught the edges of the water. A great many vessels were lying at anchor in their writings, with the dark, prodigious form of a man of war looming up above them in the moonlight. There our hero sat for the best part of an hour, smoking his pipe of tobacco and sipping his grog, and seeing not so much as a single thing that might concern the note he had received. It was not far from half an hour after the time appointed in the note when a rowboat came suddenly out of the night and pulled up to the landing place at the foot of the garden above mentioned, and three or four men came ashore in the darkness. Without saying a word among themselves, they chose a nearby table, and, sitting down, ordered rum and water, and began drinking their grog in silence. They might have sat there about five minutes when, by and by, Barnaby True became aware that they were observing him very curiously, and then almost immediately one, who was plainly the leader of the party, called out to him, "'Now, now, Miss Bate, won't you come and drink a drum of rum with us?' "'Why, no,' says Barnaby, answering very civilly. "'I have drunk enough already, and more would only heat my blood.' "'All the same,' quote the stranger. "'I think you will come and drink with us, for, unless I am mistook, you are Mr. Barnaby True, and I am come here to tell you that the royal sovereign has come in.' Now I may honestly say that Barnaby True was never more struck aback in all his life than he was at hearing these words uttered in so unexpected a manner. He had been looking to hear them under such different circumstances that, now that his ears heard them address to him, and that so seriously, by a perfect stranger, who, with others, had thus mysteriously come ashore out of the darkness, he could scarce believe that his ears heard a rite. His heart suddenly began beating at a tremendous rate, and had he been an older and wiser man, I do believe he would have declined the adventure, instead of leaping blindly, as he did, into that of which he could see neither the beginning nor the ending. But being barely one in twenty years of age, and having an adventurous disposition that would have carried him into almost anything that possessed a smack of uncertainty or danger about it, he contrived to say, in a pretty easy tone, though God knows how it was put on for the occasion, Well, then, if that be so, and if the royal sovereign is indeed come in, why, I'll join you, since you are so kind as to ask me. And therewith he went across to the other table, carrying his pipe with him, and sat down and began smoking, with all the appearance of ease he could assume upon the occasion. Well, Mr. Barnaby True, said the man who had before addressed him, so soon as Barnaby had settled himself, speaking in a low tone of voice, so there would be no danger of any others hearing the words. Well, Mr. Barnaby True, for I shall call you by your name, to show you that though I know you, you don't know me. I am glad to see that you are man enough to enter thus into an affair, though you can't see to the bottom of it. For it shows me that you are a man of metal, and are deserving of the fortune that is to befall you tonight. Nevertheless, first of all, I am bid to say that you must show me a piece of paper that you have about you before we go a step farther. Very well, said Barnaby. I have it here safe and sound, and see it you shall. And thereupon, and without more ado, he fetched out his wallet, opened it, and handed his interlocutor the mysterious note he had received the day or two before, whereupon the other, drawing to him the candle burning there for the convenience of those who had smoked tobacco, began immediately reading it. This gave Barnaby True a moment or two to look at him. He was a tall, stout man with a red handkerchief tied around his neck, and with copper buckles on his shoes, so that Barnaby True could not but wonder whether he was not the very same man who had given the note to Miss Eliza Bowles at the door of his lodging-house. "'Tis all right, and straight as it should be,' the other said, after he had so glanced his eyes over the note. And now that the paper is red, suiting his action to his words, I'll just burn it for safety's sake.' And so he did, twisting it up and setting it to the flame of the candle. "'And now,' he said, continuing his address, "'I'll tell you what I am here for. I was sent to ask you if you're mad enough to take your life in your own hands and to go with me in that boat down there. Say yes, and we'll start away without wasting more time, for the devil is ashore here at Jamaica. Though you don't know what that means. And if he gets ahead of us, why, then we may whistle for what we are after. Say no, and I go away again, and I promise you, you shall never be troubled again in this sort. So now speak up plain, young gentleman, and tell us what is your mind in this business, and whether you will adventure any further or not.' If our hero hesitated it was not for long. I cannot say that his courage did not waver for a moment, but if it did it was, I say, not for long. And when he spoke up it was with a voice as steady as could be. "'To be sure I'm mad enough to go with you,' he said. And if you mean me any harm, I can look out for myself. And if I can't, why, here is something can look out for me.' And therewith he lifted up the flap of his coat pocket and showed the butt of a pistol he had fetched with him when he had set out from his lodging-house that evening. At this the other burst out a laughing. "'Come,' says he. "'You are indeed of right metal, and I like your spirit. All the same. No one in all the world means you less ill than I, and so, if you have to use that barker, till not be upon us who are your friends, but only upon one who is more wicked than the devil himself. So come, and let us get away.' Thereupon he and the others, who had not spoken a single word for all this time, rose from the table, and he, having paid the scores of all, they all went down together to the boat that still lay at the landing-place at the bottom of the garden. Thus coming to it, our hero could see that it was a large yaw-boat, manned with half a score of black men for rowers, and there were two lanterns in the stern sheets, and three or four iron shovels. The man who had conducted the conversation with Barnaby True for all this time, and who was, as has been said, plainly the captain of the party, stepped immediately down into the boat. Our hero followed, and the others followed after him. And instantly they were seated, the boat was shoved off, and the black men began pulling straight out into the harbour, and so, at some distance away, around under the stern of the man of war. Not a word was spoken after they had thus left the shore, and presently they might all have been ghosts for the silence of the party. Barnaby True was too full of his own thoughts to talk, and serious enough thoughts they were by this time, with crimps to tripan a man at every turn, and press gangs to carry a man off so that he might never be heard of again. As for the others, they did not seem to choose to say anything, now that they had him fairly embarked upon their enterprise. And so the crew pulled on in perfect silence for the best part of an hour, the leader of the expedition directing the course of the boat straight across the harbour, as though toward the mouth of the Rio Cobra River. Indeed, this was their destination, as Barnaby could after a while see, by the low point of land with the great long row of coconut palms upon it, the appearance of which he knew very well, which by and by began to loom up out of the milky dimness of the moonlight. As they approached the river they found the tide was running strong out of it, so that some distance away from the stream it gurgled and rippled alongside the boat as the crew of black men pulled strongly against it. Thus they came up under what was either a point of land or an islet covered with the thick growth of mangrove trees, but still no one spoke a single word as to their destination or what was the business they had in hand. The night, now that they were close to the shore, was loud with the noise of running tide water, and the air was heavy with the smell of mud and marsh, and over all the whiteness of the moonlight, with a few stars pricking out here and there in the sky, and also strange and silent and mysterious that Barnaby could not divest himself of the feeling that it was all a dream. So the rowers, bending to the oars, the boat came slowly around from under the clump of mangrove bushes and out into the open water again. Instantly it did so the leader of the expedition called out in a sharp voice and the black men instantly lay on their oars. Almost at the same instant Barnaby True became aware that there was another boat coming down the river toward where they lay, now drifting with the strong tide out into the harbor again, and he knew that it was because of the approach of that boat that the other had called upon his men to cease rowing. The other boat, as well as he could see in the distance, was full of men, some of whom appeared to be armed. For even in the dusk of the darkness the shine of the moonlight glimmered sharply now and then on the barrels of muskets or pistols, and in the silence that followed after their own rowing had ceased, Barnaby True could hear the chug chug of the oars sounding louder and louder through the watery stillness of the night as the boat drew nearer and nearer. But he knew nothing of what it all meant, nor whether these others were friends or enemies, or what was to happen next. The oarsmen of the approaching boat did not for a moment cease their rowing, not till they had come pretty close to Barnaby and his companions. Then a man who sat in the stern ordered them to cease rowing, and as they lay on their oars he stood up. As they passed by Barnaby True could see him very plain, the moonlight shining full upon him, a large stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a fine laced coat of red cloth. A midship of the boat was a box or chest about the bigness of a middle-sized traveling trunk, but covered all over with cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing the gentleman, still standing, pointed at it with an elegant gold-headed cane which he held in his hand. Ah, you come after this, Abraham, darling,' says he, and there at his countenance broke into as evil malignant a grin as ever Barnaby True saw in all of his life. The other did not immediately reply so much as a single word, but sat as still as any stone. Then at last, the other boat having gone by, he suddenly appeared to regain his wits, for he bawled out after it. Very well, Jack Malio, very well, Jack Malio, you've got ahead of us this time again, but next time is the third, and then it shall be our turn, even if William Brand must come back from hell to settle with you. This he shouted out as the other boat passed farther and farther away, but to it my fine gentleman made no reply except to burst out into a great roaring fit of laughter. There was another man among the armed men in the stern of the passing boat, a villainous lean man with lantern jaws, and the top of his head as bald as the palm of my hand. As the boat went away into the night with the tide and the headway the oars had given it, he grinned so that the moonlight shone white on his big teeth. Then, flourishing a great big pistol, he said, and Barnaby could hear every word he spoke. Do but give me the word, your honour, and I'll put another bullet to the sound of a sea-cook.' But the gentleman said some words to forbid him, and therewith the boat was gone away into the night, and presently Barnaby could hear that the men at the oars had begun rowing again, leaving them lying there, without a single word being said for a long time. By and by one of those in Barnaby's boat spoke up. Where shall you go now? he said. At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back to himself, and to find his voice again. Go! he roared out. Go to the devil! Go! Go where you choose! Go! Go back again! That's where we'll go. And therewith he fell accursing and swearing until he foamed at the lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men began rowing back across the harbour as fast as ever they could lay oars into the water. They put Barnaby true ashore below the old custom house, but so bewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what he had seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcely conscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himself thus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodging, like one drunker bewildered. For John Malio was the name of the captain of the adventure galley, he who had shot Barnaby's own grandfather, and Abraham Dolling was the name of the gunner of the royal sovereign, who had been shot at the same time with the pirate captain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staring sun by the murderers. The whole business had occupied hardly two hours, but it was as though that time was no part of Barnaby's life, but all a part of some other life, so dark and strange and mysterious that it in no wise belonged to him. As for that box covered all over with mud, he could only guess at that time what it contained and what the finding of it signified. But if this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a single living soul what he had seen that night, but nursed it in his own mind, where it lay so big for a while that he could think of little or nothing else for days after. Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartwright's correspondent and agent in these parts, lived in a fine brick house just out of the town, on the Mona Road, his family consisting of a wife and two daughters, brisk, lively young ladies with black hair and eyes, and very fine bright teeth that shone whenever they laughed, and with a plenty to say for themselves. Dither Barnaby True was often asked to have family dinner, and indeed it was a pleasant home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarro with the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains, while the young ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. And often times so it was strongly upon Barnaby's mind to speak to the good gentleman and tell him what he had beheld that night out in the harbour, but always he would think better of it and hold his peace, falling to thinking, and smoking upon his cigarro at a great rate. A day or two before the bell-hellen sailed from Kingston, Mr. Greenfield stopped Barnaby True as he was going through the office to bid him come to dinner that night, for there within the tropics they breakfast at eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because of the heat, and not at midday, as we do in more temperate latitudes. I would have you meet, says Mr. Greenfield, your chief passenger for New York and his granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the two state rooms are to be fitted as here ordered, showing a letter. Sir John Melio and Miss Marjorie Melio, did you ever hear tell of Captain Jack Melio, Mr. Barnaby? Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that old Captain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Captain John Melio his murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name of that man, what with that in itself and the late adventure through which he himself had just passed, and with his brooding upon it until it was so prodigiously big in his mind it was like hitting him a blow to so fling the questions at him. Nevertheless he was able to reply, with a pretty straight face, that he had heard of Captain Melio and who he was. Well, says Mr. Greenfield, if Jack Melio was a desperate pirate and a wild reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is Sir John Melio now, and the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire. Well, Mr. Barnaby, when one is a baronet and come into the inheritance of a fine estate, though I do hear it is vastly combered with debts, the world will wink its eye so much that he may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though, that his own kin still turned the cold shoulder to him. To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at his cigarro at a great rate. And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first time with the man who murdered his own grandfather, the greatest beast of a man that ever he met in all of his life. That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Melio at a distance and in the darkness. Now that he beheld him nearby it seemed to him that he had never looked at a more evil face in all his life. Not that the man was altogether ugly, for he had a good nose and a fine double chin. But his eyes stood out like balls and were red and watery, and he winked them continually as though they were always smarting. And his lips were thick and purple red, and his fat red cheeks were mottled here and there with little clots of purple veins. And when he spoke his voice rattled so in his throat that it made one wish to clear one's own throat to listen to him. So what with a pair of fat white hands and that horse voice and his swollen face and his thick lips sticking out, he seemed to Barnaby True he had never seen a countenance so distasteful to him as the one into which he then looked. But if Sir John Melio was so displeasing to our hero's taste why the granddaughter, even this first time he beheld her, seemed to him to be the most beautiful lovely young lady that ever he saw. She had a thin fair skin, red lips, and yellow hair, though it was then powdered pretty white for the occasion, and the bluest eyes that Barnaby beheld in all of his life. A sweet timid creature, who seemed not to dare so much as to speak a word for herself without looking to Sir John for leave to do so, and would shrink and shudder whenever he would speak of a sudden to her or direct a sudden glance upon her. When she did speak it was in so low a voice that one had to bend his head to hear her, and even if she smiled would catch herself and look up as though to see if she had leave to be cheerful. As for Sir John, he sat at dinner like a pig, and gobbled and ate and drank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a word to either her or Mrs. Greenfield, or to Barnaby true, but with a sour, sullen air as though he would say, Your damned vitals and drink are no better than they should be, but I must eat them or nothing. A great bloated beast of a man. Only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two Misses sat off in a corner together did Barnaby hear her talk with any ease. Then, to be sure, her tongue became loose, and she praddled away at a great rate though hardly above her breath, until of a sudden her grandfather called out, in his horse, rattling voice, that it was time to go. Whereupon she stopped short in what she was saying, and jumped up from her chair, looking as frightened as though she had been caught in something amiss, and was to be punished for it. Barnaby true, and Mr. Greenfield both went out to see the two into their coach, whereas Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And who should he be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with bald head who had offered to shoot the leader of our hero's expedition out on the harbor that night? For, one of the circles of light from the lantern shining up into his face, Barnaby true, knew him the moment he clapped eyes upon him. Though he could not have recognized our hero, he grinned at him in the most impudent, familiar fashion, and never so much as touched his hat either to him or to Mr. Greenfield. But as soon as his master and his young mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door and scrambled up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without a word, but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnaby and the old gentleman. Such were these two, master and man, and what Barnaby saw of them then was only confirmed by further observation, the most hateful couple he ever knew, though God knows, what they afterwards suffered should wipe out all complaint against them. The next day, Sir John Malio's belongings began to come aboard the bell-hellion, and in the afternoon that same lean villainous man's servant comes skipping across the gang-plank, as nimble as a goat, with two black men behind him lugging a great sea-chest. What, he cried out, and so you as the super cargo is you? Why, I thought you was more account when I saw you last night to sit and talking with his honor like his equal. Well, no matter, it is something to have a brisk, genteel young fellow for a super cargo. So come me, Hardie, lend a hand, will you, and help me set his honor's cabin to rights. What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow to be sure, and Barnaby so high in his own esteem and holding himself a gentleman. Well, what with his distaste for the villain, and what with such odious familiarity you can guess into what temper so impudent an address must have cast him. You'll find the steward in yonder, he said, and he'll show you the cabin. And therewith turned and walked away with prodigious dignity, leaving the other standing where he was. As he entered his own cabin he could not but see, out of the tail of his eye, that the fellow was still standing where he had left him, regarding him with a most evil malevolent countenance, so that he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had made one enemy during the voyage who was not likely to forgive or forget what he must regard as a slight put upon him. The next day Sir John Malio himself came aboard, accompanied by his granddaughter, and followed by this man, and he followed by four black men who carried among them two trunks, not large in size, but prodigious heavy in weight, and toward which Sir John and his follower devoted the utmost solicitude and care to see that they were properly carried into the state cabin he was to occupy. Barnaby True was standing in the great cabin as they passed close by him, but though Sir John Malio looked hard at him and straight in the face, he never so much as spoke a single word, or showed by a look or sign that he knew who our hero was. At this the serving man, who saw it all with eyes as quick as a cat, fell to grinning and chuckling to see Barnaby in his turn so slighted. The young lady, who also saw it all, flushed up red. Then in the instant of passing looked straight at our hero, and bowed and smiled at him with the most sweet and gracious affability, then the next moment recovering herself as though mightily frightened at what she had done. The same day the bell-hellen sailed, with as beautiful sweet weather as ever a body could wish for. End of Part 3 of Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates. Recording by Epistemolus, Cupertino, California, E-P-C-O-M-M dot com slash school. Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Cary Hayes. The Ghost of Captain Brand, Part 2. There were only two other passengers aboard. The Reverend Simon Stiles, the master of a flourishing academy in Spanish town, and his wife. A good worthy old couple, but very quiet, and would sit in the great cabin by the hour together reading, so that, what with Sir John Melio staying all the time in his own cabin, with those two trunks he held so precious, it fell upon Barnaby True, in great part, to show attention to the young lady, and glad enough he was of the opportunity, as anyone may guess. For when you consider a brisk, lively young man of one and twenty, and a sweet, beautiful miss of seventeen, so thrown together day after day for two weeks, the weather being very fair, as I have said, and the ship tossing and bowling along before a fine humming breeze, that sent white caps all over the sea, and with nothing to do but sit and look at that blue sea and the bright sky overhead, it is not hard to suppose what was to be fall, and what pleasure it was to Barnaby True to show attention to her. But oh, those days when a man is young, and whether wisely or no, fallen in love, how often during that voyage did our hero lie awake in his birth at night, tossing this way and that without sleep, not that he wanted to sleep if he could, but would rather lie so awake, thinking about her, and staring into the darkness. Poor fool, he might have known that the end must come to such a fool's paradise before very long. For who was he to look up to Sir John Malleo's granddaughter? He, the supercargo of a merchant ship, and she, the granddaughter of a baronet. Nevertheless, things went along very smooth and pleasant until one evening, when all came of a sudden to an end. At that time, he and the young lady had been standing for a long while together, leaning over the rail and looking out across the water through the dusk toward the westward, where the sky was still of a lingering brightness. She had been mightily quiet and dull all that evening, but now, of a sudden, she began, without any preface whatever, to tell Barnaby about herself and her affairs. She said that she and her grandfather were going to New York, that they might take passage fence to Boston Town, there to meet her cousin, Captain Malleo, who was stationed in Garrison at that place. Then she went on to say that Captain Malleo was the next heir to the Devonshire estate, and that she and he were to be married in the fall. But poor Barnaby, what a fool was he to be sure. Me thinks when she first began to speak about Captain Malleo, he knew what was coming. But now that she had told him, he could say nothing, but stood there, staring across the ocean, his breath coming hot and dry as ashes in his throat. She, poor thing, went on to say, in a very low voice, that she had liked him from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happy for these days, and would always think of him as a dear friend who had been very kind to her, who had so little pleasure in life, and so would always remember him. Then they were both silent, until at last Barnaby made shift to say, though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malleo must be a very happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malleo's place, he would be the happiest man in the world. Thus, having spoken, and so found his tongue, he went on to tell her, with his head all in a whirl, that he too loved her, and that what she had told him struck him to the heart, and made him the most miserable, unhappy wretch in the whole world. She was not angry at what he said, nor did she turn to look at him, but only said in a low voice, he should not talk so, for that it could only be a pain to them both to speak of such things, and that whether she would or no, she must do everything as her grandfather bade her, for that he was indeed a terrible man. To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all his heart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he was now the most miserable man in the world. It was at this moment so tragic for him that someone who had been hiding nigh them all the while suddenly moved away, and Barnaby True could see in the gathering darkness that it was that villain manservant of Sir John Malleo's, and knew that he must have overheard all that had been said. The man went straight to the great cabin, and poor Barnaby, his brain all a-tingle, stood looking after him, feeling that now indeed the last drop of bitterness had been added to his trouble, to have such a wretch over here what he had said. The young lady could not have seen the fellow, for she continued leaning over the rail, and Barnaby True standing at her side, not moving, but in such a tumult of many passions that he was like one bewildered, and his heart beating as though to smother him. So they stood, for I know not how long, when, of a sudden, Sir John Malleo comes running out of the cabin, without his hat, but carrying his gold-headed cane, and so straight across the deck to where Barnaby and the young lady stood, that spying wretch close at his heels, grinning like an imp. You hussy! bawled out, Sir John, so soon as he had come pretty near them, and in so loud a voice that all on deck might have heard the words. And as he spoke, he waved his cane back and forth, as though he would have struck the young lady, who, shrinking back almost upon the deck, crouched as though to escape such a blow. You hussy! he bawled out, with vile oaths, too horrible here to be set down. What do you do here with this yanky supercargo, not fit for a gentle woman to wipe her feet upon? Get to your cabin, you hussy! Only, it was something worse, he called her this time, before I lay this cane across your shoulders. What with the whirling of Barnaby's brains and the passion into which he was already melted, what with his despair and his love, and his anger at this address, a man gone mad could scarcely be less accountable for his actions than he was at that moment. Hardly knowing what he did, he put his hand against Sir John Mallio's breast and thrust him violently back, crying out upon him in a great, loud, hoarse voice for threatening a young lady, and saying that for farthing he would retch the stick out of his hand and throw it overboard. Sir John went staggering back with the push Barnaby gave him, and then caught himself up again. Then, with a great bellow, ran roaring at our hero, whirling his cane about, and I do believe would have struck him, and God knows then what might have happened, had not his manservant caught him and held him back. Keep back, cried our hero, still mighty horse, keep back if you strike me with that stick, I'll fling you overboard! By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping of feet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up, and the next moment, Captain Manley and the first mate, Mr. Freezeden, came running out of the cabin. But Barnaby, who was by this fairly set it going, could not stop himself now. And who are you, anyhow? he cried out, to threaten, to strike me, and to insult me, who am as good as you? You dare not strike me. You may shoot a man from behind as you shot poor Captain Brand on the Rio Cobra River, but you won't dare strike me face to face. I know who you are and what you are. By this time, Sir John Malio had ceased to endeavor to strike him, but stood, stock still, his great, bulging eyes, staring as though they would pop out of his head. What's all this? cries Captain Manley, bustling up to them with Mr. Freezeden. What does all this mean? But as I have said, our hero was too far gone now to contain himself, until all that he had to say was out. The damned villain insulted me and insulted the young lady, he cried out, panting in the extremity of his passion. And then he threatened to strike me with his cane, but I know who he is and what he is. I know what he's gotten his cabin and those two trunks, and where he found it, and whom it belongs to. He found it on the shores of the Rio Cobra River, and I have only to open my mouth and tell what I know about it. At this, Captain Manley clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder and fell into shaking him, so that he could scarcely stand, calling out to him the while to be silent. What do you mean, he cried, an officer of this ship to quarrel with a passenger of mine? Go straight to your cabin and stay there till I give you leave to come out again. At this, Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself and into his wits again with a jump. But he threatened to strike me with his cane, Captain, he cried out, and that I won't stand from any man. No matter what he did, said Captain Manley, very sternly, go to your cabin as I bid you, and stay there till I tell you to come out again. And when we get to New York, I'll take pains to tell your stepfather of how you have behaved. I'll have no such rioting as this aboard my ship. Barnaby True looked around him, but the young lady was gone. Nor, in the blindness of his frenzy, had he seen when she had gone, nor wither she went. As for Sir John Milleo, he stood in the light of a lantern, his face gone as white as ashes. And I do believe if a look could kill, the dreadful, malevolent stare he fixed upon Barnaby True would have slain him where he stood. After Captain Manley had so shaken some wits into poor Barnaby, he, unhappy wretch, went into his cabin as he was bidden to do. And there, shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down, all dressed as he was upon his birth, yielded himself over to the profoundest passion of humiliation and despair. There he lay, for I know not how long, staring into the darkness, until by and by, in spite of his suffering and his despair, he dozed off into a loose sleep that was more like waking than sleep, being possessed continually by the most vivid and distasteful dreams from which he would waken, only to doze off and to dream again. It was from the midst of one of these extravagant dreams that he was suddenly aroused by the noise of a pistol shot, and then the noise of another, and another, and then a great bump and a grinding jar, and then the sound of many footsteps running across the deck and down into the great cabin. Then came a tremendous uproar of voices in the great cabin, the struggling as men's bodies being tossed about, striking violently against the partitions and bulkheads. At the same instant arose a screaming of women's voices, and one voice, and that Sir John Melos, crying out as in the greatest extremity, you villains, you damned villains, and with the sudden detonation of a pistol fired into the close space of the great cabin. Barnaby was out in the middle of his cabin in a moment, and taking only time enough to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head of his birth, flung out into the great cabin to find it as black as night, the lantern-slung mare having been either blown out or dashed out into darkness. The prodigiously dark space was full of uproar, the hubbub and confusion pierced through and through by that keen sound of women's voices screaming, one in the cabin, and the other in the stateroom beyond. Almost immediately Barnaby pitched headlong over two or three struggling men scuffling together upon the deck, falling with a great clatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almost immediately. What all the uproar meant he could not tell, but he presently heard Captain Manley's voice from somewhere suddenly calling out, you bloody pirate, would you choke me to death? Where with some notion of what had happened came to him like a flash, and that they had been attacked in the night by pirates. Looking toward the companion way, he saw, outlined against the darkness of the night without, the blacker form of a man's figure standing still and motionless as a statue in the midst of all this hubbub, and so by some instinct he knew in a moment that that must be the master maker of all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, he covered the bosom of that shadowy figure point blank, as he thought with his pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger. In the flash of red light, and in the instant stunning report of the pistol shot, Barnaby saw, as stamped upon the blackness, a broad, flat face with fishy eyes, a lean, bony forehead with what appeared to be a great blotch of blood upon the side, a cocked hat trimmed with gold lace, a red scarf across the breast, and the gleam of brass buttons. Then the darkness, very thick and black, swallowed everything again. But in the instant Sir John Malio called out in a great loud voice, my God, to his William Brand. Therewith came the sound of someone falling heavily down. The next moment, Barnaby's sight coming back to him again in the darkness, he beheld that dark and motionless figure still standing exactly where it had stood before, and so knew either that he had missed it or else that it was of so supernatural a sort that a leaden bullet might do it no harm. Though, if it was indeed an apparition that Barnaby held in that moment, there is this to say that he saw it as plain as ever he saw a living man in all of his life. This was the last hour Hero knew. For the next moment, somebody, whether by accident or design, he never knew, struck him such a terrible, violent blow upon the side of the head that he saw 40,000 stars flash before his eyeballs, and then, with a great humming in his head, swooned dead away. When Barnaby True came back to his senses again, it was to find himself being cared for with great skill and nicety, his head bathed with cold water and a bandage being bound about it as carefully as though a chirurgian was attending to him. He could not immediately recall what had happened to him, nor until he had opened his eyes to find himself in a strange cabin, extremely well fitted and painted with white and gold, the light of a lantern shining in his eyes, together with the gray of the early daylight through the dead eye. Two men were bending over him, one a negro in a striped shirt with a yellow handkerchief around his head and silver earrings in his ears, the other a white man clad in a strange outlandish dress of a foreign make, and with great mustachios hanging down and with gold earrings in his ears. It was the latter who was attending to Barnaby's hurt with such extreme care and gentleness. All this Barnaby saw with his first clear consciousness after his swoon. Then remembering what had befallen him and his head beating as though it would split asunder, he shut his eyes again, contriving with great effort to keep himself from groaning aloud, and wondering as to what sort of pirates these could be who would first knock a man in the head so terrible a blow as that which he had suffered and then take such care to fetch him back to life again and to make him easy and comfortable. Nor did he open his eyes again but lay there gathering his wits together and wondering thus until the bandage was properly tied about his head and sewed together. Then once more he opened his eyes and looked up to ask where he was. Either they who were attending to him did not choose to reply or else they could not speak English, for they made no answer accepting by signs. For the white man, seeing that he was now able to speak and so was come back into his senses again, nodded his head three or four times and smiled with a grin of his white teeth and then pointed as though toward a saloon beyond. At the same time the negro held up our hero's coat and beckoned for him to put it on, so that Barnaby, seeing that it was required of him to meet someone without, arose, though with a good deal of effort, and permitted the negro to help him on with his coat, still feeling mightily dizzy and uncertain upon his legs, his head beating fit to split and the vessel rolling and pitching at a great rate as though upon a heavy ground swell. So, still sick and dizzy, he went out into what was indeed a fine saloon beyond, painted in white and gilt like the cabin he had just quitted, and fitted in the nicest fashion a mahogany table, polished very bright, extending the length of the room, and a quantity of bottles, together with glasses of clear crystal, arranged in a hanging rack above. End of the Ghost of Captain Brand Part 2. The Ghost of Captain Brand Part 3. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Cary Hayes. Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle. Here at the table, a man was sitting with his back to our hero, clad in a rough P-jacket and with a red handkerchief tied around his throat, his feet stretched out before him, and he, smoking a pipe of tobacco with all the ease and comfort in the world. As Barnaby came in, he turned around, and to the profound astonishment of our hero, presented toward him in the light of the lantern, the dawn shining pretty strong through the skylight, the face of that very man who had conducted the mysterious expedition that night across Kingston Harbour to the Rio Cobra River. This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for a moment or two, and then burst out laughing. And indeed, Barnaby, standing there with the bandage about his head, must have looked a very drawl picture of that astonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate into whose hands he had fallen. Well, says the other, and so you be at the last, and no great harm done I'll be bound, and how does your head feel by now, my young master? To this Barnaby made no reply, but what, with the wonder and dizziness of his head, seated himself at the table over against the speaker, who pushed a bottle of rum toward him, together with a glass from the swinging shelf above. He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so, began immediately by saying, I do suppose you think you were treated mightily ill to be so handled last night? Well, so you were treated ill enough, though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more than a child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but there is this much to say, and of that you may believe me that nothing was meant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all you will believe that well enough. Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips went on again with what he had to say. Do you remember, he said, that expedition of ours in Kingston Harbour, and how we were all of us balked that night? Why, yes, said Barnaby True, nor am I likely to forget it. And do you remember what I said to that villain, Jack Malo, that night as his boat went by us? As to that, said Barnaby True, I did not know that I can say yes or no, but if you will tell me, I will maybe answer you in kind. Why, I mean this, said the other. I said that the villain had got the better of us once again, but that next time it would be our turn, even if William Brand himself had to come back from hell to put the business through. I remember something of the sort, said Barnaby, now that you speak of it, but still I am all in the dark as to what you are driving at. The other looked at him very cunningly for a little while, his head on one side and his eyes half shut. Then, as if satisfied, he suddenly burst out laughing. Look hither, he said, and I'll show you something. And therewith, moving to one side, disclosed a couple of travelling cases, or small trunks with brass studs, so exactly like those that Sir John Malo had fetched aboard at Jamaica, that Barnaby, putting this and that together, knew that they must be the same. Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what those two cases contained, and his suspicions had become a certainty when he saw Sir John Malo struck all white at being threatened about them, and his face lowering so malevolently as to look murder had he dared do it. But Lord, what were suspicions or even certainty to what Barnaby true's two eyes beheld when that man lifted the lids of the two cases, the locks thereof having already been forced, and flinging back first one lid and then the other, displayed to Barnaby's astonished sight a great treasure of gold and silver. Most of it tied up in leather and bags to be sure, but many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose, scattered about like so many beans, brimming the cases to the very top. Barnaby sat dumbstruck at what he beheld. As to whether he breathed or no, I cannot tell. But this I know, that he sat staring at that marvellous treasure like a man in a trance, until, after a few seconds of this golden display, the other banged down the lids again and burst out laughing, whereupon he came back to himself with a jump. Well, and what do you think of that? said the other. Is it not enough for a man to turn pirate for? But he continued, it is not for the sake of showing you this that I have been waiting for you here so long a while, but to tell you that you are not the only passenger aboard, but that there is another, who I am to confide to your care and attention, according to the orders I have received. So, if you are ready, Master Barnaby, I'll fetch her in directly. He waited for a moment as though for Barnaby to speak, but our hero not replying, he arose, and putting away the bottle of rum and the glasses, crossed the saloon to a door like that from which Barnaby had come a little while before. This he opened, and after a moment's delay and a few words spoken to someone within, I should fence a young lady, who came out very slowly into the saloon where Barnaby still sat at the table. It was Miss Marjorie Malio, very white and looking as though stunned or bewildered by all that had befallen her. Barnaby True could never tell whether the amazing, strange voyage that followed was of long or short duration, whether it occupied three days or ten days. For conceive, if you choose, two people of flesh and blood, moving and living continually in all the circumstances and surroundings as of a nightmare dream. Yet they too so happy together that all the universe beside was of no moment to them. How was anyone to tell whether in such circumstances any time appeared to be long or short? Does a dream appear to be long or short? The vessel in which they sailed was a brigantine of good size and build, but manned by a considerable crew, the most strange and outlandish in their appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld. Some white, some yellow, some black, and all tricked out with gay colors and gold earrings in their ears, and some with great long moustachios and others with handkerchiefs tied around their heads, and all talking a language together of which Barnaby True could not understand a single word, but which might have been Portuguese from one or two phrases he caught. Nor did this strange, mysterious crew of God knows what sort of men seemed to pay any attention whatever to Barnaby or to the young lady. They might now and then have looked at him and her out of the corners of their yellow eyes, but that was all. Otherwise they were indeed like the creatures of a nightmare dream. Only he, who was the captain of this outlandish crew, would maybe speak to Barnaby. A few words says to the weather or what not, when he would come down into the saloon to mix a glass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco and then to go on deck again about his business. Otherwise our hero and the young lady were left to themselves to do as they pleased with no one to interfere with them. End of The Ghost of Captain Brand Part 3. Section 6 of Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Barry Eads. Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle. Compiled by Merle Johnson. With the Buccaneers Part 1. Being an account of certain adventures that befell Henry Mostyn under Captain H. Morgan in the year 1665-66. Sub Chapter 1. Although this narration has more particularly to do with the taking of the Spanish Vice Admiral in the harbor of Portobello and the rescue therefrom of Le Sur Simone, his wife and daughter, the adventure of which was successfully achieved by Captain Morgan, the famous Buccaneer, we shall nevertheless, promise something of the earlier history of Master Harry Mostyn, whom you may, if you please, consider as the hero of the several circumstances recounted in these pages. In the year 1664, our hero's father embarked from Portsmouth in England for the Barbados, where he owned a considerable sugar plantation. Thither to those parts of America, he transported with himself his whole family, of whom our Master Harry was the fifth of eight children. A great lusty fellow, as little fitted for the church, for which he was designed, as could be. At the time of this story, though not above sixteen years old, Master Harry Mostyn was as big and well grown as a man of twenty, and of such a reckless and daredevil spirit that no adventure was too dangerous or too mischievous for him to embark upon. At this time, there was a deal of talk in those parts of the Americas concerning Captain Morgan, and the prodigious successes he was having pirating against the Spaniards. This man had once been an indentured servant with Mr. Rolls, a sugar factor at the Barbados. Having served out his time and being of lawless disposition, possessing also a prodigious appetite for adventure, he joined with others of his kidney and, purchasing a caravelle of three guns, embarked fairly upon that career of piracy, the most successful that ever was heard of in the world. Master Harry had known this man very well while he was still with Mr. Rolls, serving as a cleric at that gentleman's sugar wharf, a tall broad-shouldered strapping fellow with red cheeks and thick red lips, and rolling blue eyes and hair as red as any chestnut. Many knew him for a bold, gruff-spoken man, but no one at that time suspected that he had it in him to become so famous and renowned as he afterward grew to be. The fame of his exploits had been the talk of those parts for above a twelve-month, when, in the latter part of the year 1665, Captain Morgan, having made a very successful expedition against the Spaniards into the Gulf of Compeche, where he took several important purchases from the plate fleet, came to the Barbados, there to fit out another such venture and to enlist recruits. He and certain other adventurers had purchased a vessel of some five hundred tons, which they proposed to convert into a pirate by cutting portholes for cannon and running three or four caranades across her main deck. The name of this ship, be it mentioned, was the Good Samaritan, as ill-fitting a name as could be for such a craft, which, instead of being designed for the healing of wounds, was intended to inflict such devastation as those wicked men proposed. Here was a piece of mischief exactly fitted to our hero's tastes. Wherefore, having made up a bundle of clothes and with not above a shilling in his pocket, he made an excursion into the town to seek for Captain Morgan. There he found the great pirate established at an ordinary, with a little court of ragamuffins and swashbucklers gathered about him, all talking very loud and drinking hells in raw rum as though it were sugared water. And what a fine figure our buccaneer had grown, to be sure. How different from the poor humble clerk upon the sugar-warf. What a deal of gold braid. What a fine silver-hilted Spanish sword. What a gay velvet sling hung with three silver mounted pistols. If Master Harry's mind had not been made up before, to be sure such a spectacle of glory would have determined it. This figure of war our hero asked to step aside with him, and when they had come into a corner, proposed to the other what he intended, and that he had a mind to enlist as a gentleman adventurer upon this expedition. Upon this, our rogue of a buccaneer captain burst out a laughing, and fetching Master Harry a great thump upon the back, swore roundly that he would make a man of him, and that it was a pity to make a parson out of so good a piece of stuff. Nor was Captain Morgan less good than his word, for when the Good Samaritan set sail with a favoring win for the island of Jamaica, Master Harry found himself established as one of the adventurer's aboard. End of sub-chapter 1 sub-chapter 2 Could you but have seen the town of Port Royal as it appeared in the year 1665? You would have beheld a sight very well worthwhile looking upon. There were no fine houses at that time, and no great counting houses built of brick, such as you may find nowadays, but a crowd of bored and waddled huts huddled along the streets, and all so gay with flags and bits of color that vanity fair itself could not have been gayer. To this place came all the pirates and buccaneers that infested those parts, and men shouted and swore and gambled, and poured out money like water, and then maybe wound up their merry-making by dying a fever. For the sky in these torrid latitudes is all full of clouds overhead, and as hot as any blanket, and when the sun shone forth it streamed down upon the smoking sands so that the houses were ovens and the streets were furnaces. So it was little wonder that men died like rats in a hole. But little they appeared to care for that, so that everywhere you might behold a multitude of painted women, and Jews and merchants and pirates, gaudy with red scarves and gold braid, and all sorts of odds and ends of foolish finery, all fighting and gambling and bartering for that ill-gotten treasure of the B-Rabbed Spaniard. Here arriving Captain Morgan found a hearty welcome, and a message from the Governor awaiting him. The message bidding him attend his Excellency upon the earliest occasion that offered. Whereupon, taking our hero, of whom he had grown prodigiously fond, along with him, our pirate went, without any loss of time, to visit Sir Thomas Modiford, who was then the Royal Governor of all this devil's brew of wickedness. They found his Excellency seated in a great easy chair, under the shadow of a slatted veranda, the floorware of was paved with brick. He was clad for the sake of coolness only in his shirt, britches and stockings, and he wore slippers on his feet. He was smoking a great cigarro of tobacco, and a goblet of lime juice and water and rum stood at his elbow on a table. Here, out of the glare of the heat, it was all very cool and pleasant, with the sea breeze blowing violently in through the slats, setting them rattling now and then, and stirring Sir Thomas's long hair, which he had pushed back for the sake of coolness. The purport of this interview, I may tell you, concerned the rescue of one Lesseur Samon, who, together with his wife and daughter, was held captive by the Spaniards. This gentleman adventurer, Lesseur Samon, had, a few years before, been set up by the Buccaneers as Governor of the Island of Santa Catharina. This place, though well fortified by the Spaniards, the Buccaneers had seized upon, establishing themselves thereon, and so infesting the commerce of those seas that no Spanish fleet was safe from them. At last, the Spaniards, no longer able to endure these assaults against their commerce, sent a great force against the Free Booters to drive them out of their island stronghold. This, they did, retaking Santa Catharina, together with its Governor, his wife and daughter, as well as the whole garrison of Buccaneers. This garrison was sent by their conquerors, some to the galleys, some to the mines, some to no man knows where. The Governor himself, Lesseur Samon, was to be sent to Spain, there to stand his trial for piracy. The news of all this, I may tell you, had only just been received in Jamaica, having been brought thither by a Spanish captain, one Don Rodriguez Silvia, who was, besides, the bearer of dispatches to the Spanish authorities relating the whole affair. Such, in fine, was the purport of this interview, and as our hero and his captain walked back together from the Governor's house to the ordinary, where they had taken up their inn, the Buccaneer assured his companion that he proposed to obtain those dispatches from the Spanish captain that very afternoon, even if he had to use force to seize them. All this, you are to understand, was undertaken only because of the friendship that the Governor and Captain Morgan entertained for Lesseur Samon, and indeed, it was wonderful how honest and how faithful were these wicked men in their dealings with one another. For you must know that Governor Moniford and Lesseur Samon and the Buccaneers were all of one kidney, all taking a share in the piracies of those times, and all holding by one another as though they were the honestest men in the world. Hence it was, they were also determined to rescue Lesseur Samon from the Spaniards. Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the Governor, Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as usually gathered at that place to be in attendance upon him. Some, those belonging to the Good Samaritan, others, those who hoped to obtain benefits from him, others, those ragamuffins who gathered around him because he was famous, and because it pleased them to be of his court and to be called his followers. For nearly always your successful pirate had such a little court surrounding him. Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain Morgan informed them of his present purpose, that he was going to find the Spanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon them to accompany him. With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down the street. His lieutenant, a Cornish man named Bartholomew Davis, upon one hand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for the best part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For whether he got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him, or whether finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had buried himself in some place of hiding. It is certain that the buccaneers had traversed pretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that he was lying at a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither they went, and thither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost coolness and composure of demeanor, his followers crowding noisily in at his heels. The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway, and by two large slatted windows or openings in the front. In this dark hot place, not over roomy at the best, were gathered twelve or fifteen villainous appearing men, sitting at tables and drinking together, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no trouble in discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia. For not only did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but the Spaniard was clad with more particularity, and with more show of finery than any of the others who were there. Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers. Whereunto the other replied was such a jabber of Spanish and English that no man could have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turn replied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost him to obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and presented it at the other's head. At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell as screaming, and the Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down about his ears. Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a sudden there was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere, and then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like one stunned, hearing someone crying out in a loud voice, but not knowing whether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another pistol shot so deafened what was left of Harry Master's hearing that his ears rang for above an hour afterward. By this time the whole place was full of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows and oars and out-crying and the clashing of knives. As Master Harry, who had no great stomach for such a combat and no very particular interest in the quarrel, was making for the door, a little Portuguese, as withered and as nimble as an ape, came ducking under the table and plunged at his stomach with a great long knife, which, had it affected its object, would surely have ended his adventures then and there. Finding himself in such danger, Master Harry snatched up a heavy chair and flinging it at his enemy who was preparing for another attack, he fairly ran for it out of the door, expecting every instant to feel the thrust of the blade betwixt his ribs. A considerable crowd had gathered outside, and others, hearing the uproar, were coming running to join them. With these our hero stood, trembling like a leaf, and with cold chills running up and down his back like water, at the narrow escape from the danger that had threatened him. Nor shall you think him a coward, for you must remember he was hardly sixteen years old at the time, and that this was the first affair of the sort he had encountered. Afterward, as you shall learn, he showed that he could exhibit courage enough at a pinch. While he stood there, endeavoring to recover his composure, the while the tumult continued within, suddenly two men came running almost together out of the door, a crowd of the combatants at their heels. The first of these men was Captain Sylvia, the other who was pursuing him was Captain Morgan. As the crowd about the door parted before the sudden appearing of these, the Spanish captain perceiving, as he supposed, a way of escape open to him darted across the street with incredible swiftness toward an alleyway upon the other side. Upon this, seeing his prey like to get away from him, Captain Morgan snatched a pistol out of his sling, and resting it for an instant across his arm, fired at the flying Spaniard. And that was so true an aim, that though the street was now full of people, the other went tumbling over and over all of a heap in the kennel, where he lay, after a twitch or two, as still as a log. At the sound of the shot and the fall of the man, the crowd scattered upon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus pretty clear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, his smoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at his heels. Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed, thus in an instant, who a moment before had been so full of life and activity. For when Captain Morgan turned the body over upon its back, he could perceive at a glance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone dead. And indeed it was a dreadful sight for him, who was hardly more than a child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at the dead face, with twitching fingers and shuttering limbs. Meantime a great crowd was gathering about them again. As for Captain Morgan, he went about his work with the utmost coolness and deliberation imaginable. Unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of the man he had murdered with fingers that neither twitch nor shook. There was a gold cross and a bunch of silver metals hung by a whip cord about the neck of the dead man. This Captain Morgan broke away with a snap, reaching the jingling baubles to Harry, who took them in his nervous hand and fingers that he could hardly close upon what they held. The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast pocket of the Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding them to his satisfaction, tied them up again and slipped the wallet and its contents into his own pocket. Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who indeed must have been standing, the perfect picture of horror and dismay. Whereupon bursting out a laughing and slipping the pistol he had used back into its sling again, he fetched poor Harry a great slap upon the back, bidding him to be a man, for that he would see many such sights as this. But indeed, it was no laughing matter for poor Master Harry, for it was many a day before his imagination could rid itself of the image of the dead Spaniard's face. And as he walked away down the street with his companions, leaving the crowd behind them, and the dead body where it lay for its friends to look after, his ears humming and ringing with the deafening noise of the pistol shots fired in the close room, and the sweat trickling down his face in drops, he knew not whether all that had passed had been real, or whether it was a dream from which he might presently awaken. Compiled by Merle Johnson The papers Captain Morgan had thus seized upon as the fruit of the murder he had committed must have been as perfectly satisfactory to him as could be, for having paid a second visit that evening to Governor Modiford, the pirate lifted anchor the next morning and made sail toward the Gulf of Darien. There, after cruising about in those waters for about a fortnight without falling in with a vessel of any sort, at the end of that time they overhauled a caraval bound from Portobello to Cartagena, which vessel they took, and finding her loaded with nothing better than raw hides scuttled and sank her, being then about twenty leagues from the main of Cartagena. From the captain of this vessel they learned that the plate fleet was then lying in the harbor of Portobello, not yet having set sail thence, but waiting for the change of the winds before embarking for Spain. Besides this, which was a good deal more to their purpose, the Spaniards told the pirates that the sewer Simone, his wife and daughter were confined aboard the vice admiral of that fleet, and that the name of the vice admiral was the Santa Maria of Valladolid. As soon as Captain Morgan had obtained the information he desired he directed his course straight for the bay of Santa Blasio, where he might lie safely within the cape of that name without any danger of discovery, that part of the mainland being entirely uninhabited, and yet be within twenty or twenty-five leagues of Portobello. Having come safely to this anchorage, he at once declared his intentions to his companions, which were as follows, that it was entirely impossible for them to hope to sail their vessel into the harbor of Portobello and to attack the Spanish vice admiral where he lay in the midst of the Armflota. Wherefore, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be undertaken by some subtle design rather than by open-handed boldness. Having so preface what he had to say, he now declared that it was his purpose to take one of the ship's boats and to go in that to Portobello, trusting for some opportunity to occur to aid him either in the accomplishment of his aims or in the gaining of some further information. Having thus delivered himself, he invited any who dared to do so to volunteer for the expedition, telling them plainly that he would constrain no man to go against his will, for that at best it was a desperate enterprise, possessing only the recommendation that in its achievement the few who undertook it would gain great renown and perhaps a very considerable booty, and such was the incredible influence of this bold man over his companions, and such was their confidence in his skill and cunning that not above a dozen of all those aboard hung back from the undertaking, but nearly every man desired to be taken. Of these volunteers Captain Morgan chose twenty, among others our master Harry, and having arranged with his lieutenant that if nothing was heard from the expedition at the end of three days he should sail for Jamaica to await news, he embarked upon that enterprise, which though never hereto forepublished was perhaps the boldest and the most desperate of all those that have since made his name so famous. For what could be a more unparalleled undertaking than for a little open boat containing but twenty men to enter the harbor of the third strongest fortress of the Spanish mainland with the intention of cutting out the Spanish vice admiral from the midst of a whole fleet of powerfully armed vessels? And how many men in all the world do you suppose would venture such a thing? But there is this to be said of that great buccaneer, that if he undertook enterprises so desperate as this he yet laid his plans so well that they never went altogether amiss. Moreover the very desperation of his successes was of such a nature that no man could suspect that he would dare to undertake such things, and accordingly his enemies were never prepared to guard against his attacks. I, had he but worn the king's colors and served under the rules of honest war, he might have become as great and as renowned as Admiral Blake himself. But all that is neither here nor there. What I have to tell you now is that Captain Morgan in this open boat with his twenty mates reached the Cape of Salmadina toward the fall of day. Arriving within view of the harbor they discovered the plate fleet at anchor, with two men of war and an armed galley riding as a guard at the mouth of the harbor scares half a league distant from the other ships. Having spied the fleet in this posture the pirates presently pulled down their sails and rode along the coast feigning to be a Spanish vessel from Nombre de Dios. So hugging the shore they came boldly within the harbor upon the opposite side of which you might see the fortress a considerable distance away. Being now come so near to the consummation of their adventure, Captain Morgan required every man to make an oath to stand by him to the last. Whereunto our hero swore as hardly as any man aboard, although his heart, I must need confess, was beating at a great rate at the approach of what was to happen. Having thus received the oaths of all his followers, Captain Morgan commanded the surgeon of the expedition that, when the order was given, he, the medico, was to bore six holes in the boat, so that, it sinking under them, they might all be compelled to push forward with no chance of retreat. And such was the ascendancy of this man over his followers, and such was their awe of him, that not one of them uttered even so much as a murmur. Though what he had commanded the surgeon to do pledged them either to victory or to death, with no chance to choose between. Nor did the surgeon question the orders he had received, much less did he dream of disobeying them. By now it had fallen pretty dusk, whereupon spying two fishermen in a canoe at a little distance, Captain Morgan demanded of them in Spanish which vessel of those at anchor in the harbor was the vice admiral, that he had his batches for the captain thereof. Whereupon the fisherman, suspecting nothing, pointed them to a galleon of great size, riding at anchor not half a league distant. Toward this vessel accordingly the pirates directed their course, and when they had come pretty nigh, Captain Morgan called upon the surgeon, that now it was time for him to perform the duty that had been laid upon him. Whereupon the other did as he was ordered, and that so thoroughly that the water presently came gushing into the boat in great streams, where at all hands pulled for the galleon as though every next moment was to be their last. And what do you suppose were our hero's emotions at this time? Like all in the boat, his awe of Captain Morgan was so great that I do believe he would rather have gone to the bottom than have questioned his command, even when it was to scuttle the boat. Nevertheless, when he felt the cold water gushing about his feet, for he had taken off his shoes and stockings, he became possessed with such a fear of being drowned that even the Spanish galleon had no terrors for him if he could only feel the solid planks thereof beneath his feet. Indeed all the crew appeared to be possessed of a like dismay, for they pulled at the oars with such an incredible force that they were under the quarter of the galleon before the boat was half filled with water. Here as they approached, it then being pretty dark and the moon not yet having risen, the watch upon the deck hailed them, whereupon Captain Morgan called out in Spanish, that he was Captain Alveras Mendazzo and that he brought dispatches for the vice admiral. But at that moment, the boat being now so full of water as to be logged, it suddenly tilted upon one side as though to sink beneath them, whereupon all hands, without further oars, went scrambling up the side as nimble as so many monkeys, each armed with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other, and so were upon the deck before the watch could collect his wits to utter any outcry or to give any other alarm than to cry out, Yezu bless us, who are these? At which words somebody knocked him down with the butt of a pistol, though who it was our hero could not tell in the darkness and the hurry. Before any of those upon deck could recover from their alarm, or those from below come up upon the deck, a part of the pirates, under the carpenter and the surgeon, had run to the gunroom and had taken possession of the arms, while Captain Morgan, with Master Harry and a Portuguese called Marillo Brasiliano, had flown with the speed of the wind into the great cabin. Here they found the captain of the vice admiral playing at cards with the sewer Simone and a friend, Madame Simone and her daughter being present. Captain Morgan instantly set his pistol at the breast of the Spanish captain, swearing with a most horrible fierce countenance that if he spake a word or made any outcry he was a dead man. As for our hero, having now got his hand into the game, he performed the same service for the Spaniard's friend, declaring he would shoot him dead if he opened his lips or lifted so much as a single finger. All this while the ladies, not comprehending what had occurred, had sat as mute as stones, but now having so far recovered themselves as to find a voice, the younger of the two fell to screaming, at which the sewer Simone called out to her to be still, for these were friends who had come to help them and not enemies who had come to harm them. All this you are to understand occupied only a little while, for in less than a minute, three or four of the pirates had come into the cabin, who, together with the Portuguese, proceeded at once to bind the two Spaniards hand and foot and to gag them. This being done to our buccaneer's satisfaction and the Spanish captain being stretched out in the corner of the cabin, he instantly cleared his countenance of its terrors, and bursting forth into a great loud laugh, clapped his hand to the sewer Simone's, which he rung with the best will in the world. Having done this, and being in a fine humor after this his first success, he turned to the two ladies. And this ladies, said he, taking our hero by the hand and presenting him, is a young gentleman who has embarked with me to learn the trade of piracy. I recommend him to your politeness. Think what a confusion this threw our Master Harry into, to be sure, who at his best was never easy in the company of strange ladies. You may suppose what must have been his emotions to find himself thus introduced to the attention of Madame Simone and her daughter, being at the time in his bare feet, clad only in his shirt and britches, and with no hat upon his head, a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other. However, he was not left for long to his embarrassments. For almost immediately after he had thus far relaxed, Captain Morgan fell of a sudden serious again, and bidding the sewer Simone to get his ladies away into some place of safety, for the most hazardous part of this adventure was yet to occur. He quitted the cabin with Master Harry and the other pirates, for you may call him a pirate now, at his heels. Having come upon deck, our hero beheld that a part of the Spanish crew were huddled forward in a flock like so many sheep, the others being crowded below with the hatches fastened upon them, and such was the terror of the pirates, and so dreadful the name of Henry Morgan, that not one of those poor wretches dared to lift up his voice to give any alarm, not even to attempt an escape by jumping overboard. At Captain Morgan's orders, these men, together with certain of his own company, ran nimbly aloft and began setting the sails, which, the night now having fallen pretty thick, was not for a good while observed by any of the vessels riding at anchor about them. Indeed, the pirates might have made good their escape, which at most only a shot or two from the men of war had it not then been about the full of the moon, which, having arisen, presently discovered to those of the fleet that lay closest about them, what was being done aboard Device Admiral. At this, one of the vessels hailed them, and then after a while, having no reply, hailed them again. Even then, the Spaniards might not immediately have suspected anything was amiss, but only that Device Admiral, for some reason, best known to himself, was shifting his anchorage, had not one of the Spaniards aloft, but who it was Captain Morgan was never able to discover, answered the hail by crying out that Device Admiral had been seized by the pirates. At this, the alarm was instantly given, and the mischief done, for presently, there was a tremendous bustle through that part of the fleet, lying nice Device Admiral, a deal of shouting of orders, a beating of drums, and the running hither and thither of the crews. But by this time, the sails of the Device Admiral had filled with a strong land breeze that was blowing up the harbor, where upon the carpenter, at Captain Morgan's orders, having cut away both anchors, the galleon presently bore away up the harbor, gathering headway every moment with the wind nearly dead astern. The nearest vessel was the only one that, for the moment, was able to offer any hindrance. This ship, having by this time cleared away one of its guns, was able to fire a parting shot against Device Admiral, striking her somewhere forward, as our hero could see by a great shower of splinters that flew up in the moonlight. At the sound of the shot, all the vessels of the Flota, not yet disturbed by the alarm, were aroused at once, so that the pirates had the satisfaction of knowing that they would have to run the gauntlet of all the ships between them and the open sea before they could reckon themselves escaped. And indeed, to our hero's mind, it seemed that the battle which followed must have been the most horrific cannonade that was ever heard in the world. It was not so ill at first, for it was some while before the Spaniards could get their guns clear for action, they being not the least in the world prepared for such an occasion as this. But by and by, first won, and then another ship opened fire upon the galleon. Until it seemed to our hero that all the thunders of heaven let loose upon them could not have created a more prodigious uproar, and that it was not possible that they could any of them escape destruction. By now the moon had risen full and round, so that the clouds of smoke that rose in the air appeared as white as snow. The air seemed full of the hiss and screaming of shot, each one of which, when it struck the galleon, was magnified by our hero's imagination into ten times its magnitude from the crash which it delivered, and from the cloud of splinters it would cast up into the moonlight. At last he suddenly beheld one poor man knock sprawling across the deck, who, as he raised his arm from behind the mast, disclosed that the hand was gone from it, and that the shirt sleeve was red with blood in the moonlight. At this sight all the strength fell away from poor Harry, and he felt sure that a like fate or even a worse must be in store for him. But, after all, this was nothing to what it might have been in broad daylight, for what with the darkness of night and the little preparation the Spaniards could make for such a business, and the extreme haste with which they discharged their guns, many not understanding what was the occasion of all this uproar, nearly all the shot flew so wide of the mark that not above one and twenty struck that at which it was aimed. Meantime Captain Morgan, with the sewer Simone, who had followed him upon deck, stood just above where our hero lay behind the shelter of the bulwark. The captain had lit a pipe of tobacco, and he stood now in the brilliant moonlight close to the rail, with his hands behind him, looking out ahead with the utmost coolness imaginable, and paying no more attention to the din of battle than though it were twenty leagues away. Now and then he would take his pipe from his lips to utter an order to the man at the wheel, accepting this he stood there hardly moving at all, the wind blowing his long red hair over his shoulders. Had it not been for the armed galley, the pirates might have gotten the galley away with no great harm done in spite of all this cannonating, for the man of war which rode at anchor, nice to them at the mouth of the harbor was still so far away that they might have passed it by hugging pretty close to the shore, and that without any great harm being done to them in the darkness. But just at this moment, when the open water lay in sight, came this galley pulling out from behind the point of the shore in such a manner as either to head our pirates off entirely, or else to compel them to approach so near to the man of war that the latter vessel could bring its guns to bear with more effect. This galley, I must tell you, was like others of its kind, such as you may find in these waters, the hull being long and cut low to the water as to allow the oars to dip freely. The bow was sharp and projected far out ahead, mounting a swivel upon it, while at the stern a number of galleries built one above another into a castle gave shelter to several companies of musketeers, as well as the officers commanding them. Our hero could behold the approach of this galley from above the starboard bulwarks, and it appeared to him impossible for them to hope to escape either it or the man of war. But still Captain Morgan maintained the same composure that he had exhibited all the while, only now and then delivering an order to the man at the wheel, who, putting the helm over, threw the bow of the galleon around more to the larboard, as though to escape the bow of the galley and get into the open water beyond. This course brought the pirates ever closer and closer to the man of war, which now began to add its thunder to the din of the battle, and with so much more effect that at every discharge you might hear the crashing and crackling of splintered wood, and now and then the outcry or groaning of some man who was hurt. Indeed, had it been daylight, they must at this juncture all have perished, though, as was said, what with the night and the confusion and the hurry, they escaped entire destruction, though more by a miracle than through any policy upon their own part. Meanwhile the galley, steering as though to come aboard of them, had now come so near that it too presently began to open its musketry fire upon them, so that the humming and rattling of bullets were presently added to the din of cannonating. In two minutes more it would have been aboard of them, when in a moment Captain Morgan roared out of a sudden to the man at the helm to put it hard to starboard. In response the man ran the wheel over with the utmost quickness, and the galleon, obeying her helm very readily, came around upon a course which, if continued, would certainly bring them into collision with their enemy. It is possible, at first, the Spaniards imagined the pirates intended to escape past their stern, for they instantly began backing oars to keep them from getting past, so that the water was all of a foam about them. At the same time they did this they poured in such a fire a musketry that it was a miracle that no more execution was accomplished than happened. As for our hero, me thinks for the moment he forgot all about everything else, than as to whether or no his captain's maneuver would succeed, for in the very first moment he divined, as by some instinct what Captain Morgan proposed doing. At this moment, so particular in the execution of this nice design, a bullet suddenly struck down the man at the wheel. Hearing the sharp outcry, our Harry turned to see him fall forward, and then to his hands and knees upon the deck, the blood running in a black pool beneath him, while the wheel, escaping from his hands, spun over until his spokes were all of a mist. In a moment the ship would have fallen off before the wind, had not our hero leaping to the wheel, even as Captain Morgan shouted an order for someone to do so, seized the flying spokes, whirling them back again, and so bringing the bow of the galleon upon its former course. In the first moment of this effort, he had reckoned of nothing but of carrying out his captain's designs. He neither thought of cannonballs nor of bullets, but now that his task was accomplished he came suddenly back to himself to find the galleries of the galley of flame with musket shots, and to become aware, with a most horrible sinking of the spirits, that all the shots therefrom were intended for him. He cast his eyes about him with despair, but no one came to ease him of his task, which, having undertaken, he had too much spirit to resign from carrying through to the end, though he was well aware that the very next instant might mean his sudden and violent death. His ears hummed and rang, and his brain swam as light as a feather. I know not whether he breathed, but he shut his eyes tight as though that might save him from the bullets that were reigning about him. At this moment the Spaniards must have discovered for the first time the pirates' design. For, of a sudden, they ceased firing and began to shout out a multitude of orders, while the oars lashed the water all about with a foam. But it was too late then for them to escape, for within a couple of seconds the galleon struck her enemy, a blow so violent upon the larbored quarter, as nearly to hurl our hairy upon the deck, and then with a dreadful, horrible crackling of wood, co-mingled with a yelling of men's voices, the galley was swung around upon her side, and the galleon, sailing into the open sea, left nothing of her immediate enemy but a sinking wreck, and the water dotted all over with bobbing heads and waving hands in the moonlight. And now, indeed, that all danger was passed and gone, there were plenty to come running to help our hero at the wheel. As for Captain Morgan, having come down upon the main deck, he fetches the young helmsman a clap upon the back. Well, Master Harry, says he, and did I not tell you I would make a man of you? Where at our poor Harry fell a laughing, but with a sad catch in his voice, for his hands trembled with an ague, and were as cold as ice. As for his emotions, God knows he was nearer crying than laughing, if Captain Morgan had but known it. Nevertheless, though undertaken under the spur of the moment, I protest it was indeed a brave deed, and I cannot but wonder how many young gentlemen of sixteen there are to-day, who, upon a like occasion, would act as well as our Harry. End of sub-chapter 4 sub-chapter 5 The balance of our hero's adventures were of a lighter sort than those already recounted. For the next morning the Spanish captain, a very polite and well-bred gentleman, having fitted him out with a shift of his own clothes, Master Harry was presented in a proper form to the ladies. For Captain Morgan, if he had felt a liking for the young man before, could not now show sufficient regard for him. He ate in the great cabin, and was petted by awe. Madame Simone, who was a fat and red-faced lady, was forever praising him, and the young Miss, who was extremely well-looking, was as continually making eyes at him. She and Master Harry, I must tell you, would spend hours together, she making pretense of teaching him French, although he was so possessed with a passion of love that he was nigh suffocated with it. She, upon her part, perceiving his emotions, responded with extreme good-nature and complacency, so that had our hero been older and the voyage proved longer, he might have become entirely enmeshed in the toils of his fair siren. For all this while you are to understand the pirates were making sail straight for Jamaica, which they reached upon the third day in perfect safety. In that time, however, the pirates had well nigh gone crazy for joy, for when they came to examine their purchase, they discovered her cargo to consist of plate, to the prodigious sum of a hundred and thirty thousand pounds in value. It was a wonder they did not all make themselves drunk for joy. No doubt they would have done so had not Captain Morgan, knowing they were still in the exact track of the Spanish fleets, threatened them that the first man among them who touched a drop of rum without his permission he would shoot him dead upon the deck. This threat had such effect that they all remained entirely sober until they had reached Port Royal Harbor, which they did about nine o'clock in the morning. And now it was that our hero's romance came all tumbling down about his ears with a run. For they had hardly come to anchor in the harbor when a boat came from a man of war, and who should come stepping aboard but Lieutenant Grantley, a particular friend of our hero's father, and his own eldest brother Thomas, who, putting on a very stern face, informed Master Harry that he was a desperate and hardened villain who was sure to end at the gallows and that he was to go immediately back to his home again. He told our embryo pirate that his family had nigh gone distracted because of his wicked and ungrateful conduct, nor could our hero move him from his inflexible purpose. What, says our Harry, and will you not then let me wait until our prize is divided and I get my share? Prize indeed, says his brother, and do you then really think that your father would consent to your having a share in this terrible bloody and murdering business? And so, after a great deal of argument, our hero was constrained to go, nor did he even have an opportunity to bid adieu to his inamorata. Nor did he see her any more, except from a distance. She's standing on the poop-deck as he was rode away from her, her face all stained with crying. For himself, he felt that there was no more joy in life. Nevertheless, standing up in the stern of the boat, he made shift, though with an aching heart, to deliver her a fine bow with the hat he had borrowed from the Spanish captain before his brother bade him sit down again. And so to the ending of this story, with only this to relate, that our Master Harry, so far from going to the gallows, became in good time a respectable and wealthy sugar merchant, with an English wife and a fine family of children, were unto, when the mood was upon him, he has sometimes told these adventures, and sundry others not here recounted, as I have told them unto you. End of sub-chapter 5, end of section 7.