Captain Jonathan Wellsby listened to this luscious recital with an air of mild amus.e.m.e.nt. He was of a temper too stolid and sensible to waste his time on random treasure hunting. Blackbeard might have chosen his hiding-place anywhere along hundreds of leagues of coast. He could understand the agitation of these two adventurous lads to whom this memorandum was like a magic spell. Of such was the spirit of youth.

"Any more of it?" demanded Joe Hawkridge.

"The next page was ripped out of the journal," answered the skipper.

"What cruise did he mean? If it was this last one, he may have hid it on the Virginia or Carolina coast."

Master c.o.c.krell gave it as an excuse that he had sat up long enough and would return to his bunk. He was fairly bursting for a conference with Joe, and as soon as they were alone he exclaimed:

"It may be the sea-chest! What do you think?"

"A handsome clue, I call it, something to warm the c.o.c.kles of your heart," grinned the sea urchin. "Aye, Jack, I should wager he wrote that down whilst he lay at anchor in Cherokee Inlet."

"It seems shabby of us to keep the secret from Captain Wellsby, but there is an obligation on us----"

"To Bill Saxby and the old sea wolf," said Joe. "We'll not forget this trump of a skipper when it comes to splittin' up the treasure."

"I am anxious for Captain Bonnet and his crew," remarked Jack. "With this crusade against pirates afoot, our friends may be hanged before we see them again."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE OLD BUCCANEER IS LOYAL

SORROW mingled with rejoicing when the _King George_ brigantine sailed into Charles Town harbor. The sea fight off Cherokee Inlet had taken a heavy toll of brave seamen and there were vacant chairs and aching hearts ash.o.r.e, but the fiendish Blackbeard had been blotted out and would no more harry the coast. Small and rude as was this pioneer settlement, it was most fair and attractive to the eyes of young Master c.o.c.krell and Joe Hawkridge. In the house of Uncle Peter Forbes they rested at their ease and planned sedate careers for themselves.

Even the treasure ceased to be uppermost in their lively discussions. It could wait a while. They were no longer under the spell of its influence. This different world in which they now dwelt so contentedly made their adventures seem like shadowy figments with precious little romance in them. And neither lad expressed any great anxiety to go exploring the noisome Cherokee swamp and to challenge the ghost of Blackbeard.

Without a sign of rebellion, Jack returned to his books and lessons in Parson Throckmorton's garden. The learning already acquired he began to pa.s.s on to Joe Hawkridge, who was a zealous pupil and determined to read and write and cipher without letting the gra.s.s grow under his feet.

It was this young pirate's ambition to make a shipping merchant of himself, and Councilor Forbes found him employment in a warehouse where the planters traded their rice, resin, and indigo for the varied merchandise brought out from England. Jack aspired to manage his uncle's plantation and to acquire lands of his own and some day to sit in the Governor's Council.

Of a Sunday morning he went to the little English church, dressed in his best and using a cane, for he limped from the wound in his thigh. Joe Hawkridge walked with him, careful to banish his grin, and sat in the Councilor's pew where he paid proper attention to the prayers and responses. This caused some gossip but the ocean waif was winning his way to favor by dint of industry, a shrewd wit, and his perennial good humor.

Frequently they escorted fair Dorothy Stuart home from church. She was fonder than ever of stalwart Master c.o.c.krell because the colonel had told her he would have been a dead man had not the lad intervened to save him from the stroke of a negro pirate. Alas, however, it was not that sentimental devotion for which the lovelorn Jack yearned, and he confided to Joe that his existence was blighted. This evoked no sympathy from the fickle Hawkridge, who was forgetting his black-eyed la.s.s in the Azores and was already a slave to Dorothy Stuart. She laughed at them both and was their true friend, tender, and whimsical and anxious for their welfare. It was a valuable chapter in their education.

One morning while Joe was at work in the warehouse near the harbor, he heard a commotion in the street and was about to run out when his employer came in and explained:

"Two pirates captured,--just as I happened to pa.s.s. The knaves landed from a boat in broad daylight, unaware that Charles Town has mended its loose habit toward such gentry."

"What will be done with 'em?" quickly asked Joe, with an unhappy premonition.

"They were recognized as two of Stede Bonnet's old hands that used to resort to the tavern. Soldiers of the Governor's guard have been sent for to drag them to the gaol."

Joe hastened out but slackened his pace to lag behind the crowd of idlers who were jostling the prisoners along with hoots and jeers. Yes, there was the tall, gaunt frame and gray head of old Trimble Rogers whose mien was so forbidding and masterful that the mob forbore to handle him too roughly, unarmed though he was. At his elbow trudged chubby Bill Saxby, gazing about him with those wide blue eyes in which was not a trace of guile. Joe realized that for him to intercede would make matters worse. He was a reformed pirate on probation and was known to have sailed with Blackbeard himself.

Therefore he darted into another street and sped to find Jack c.o.c.krell, who chanced to be at home. They rushed into the room where Uncle Peter Forbes was writing at his desk and informed him that their two staunch comrades had come ash.o.r.e to find them and were already in custody and something must be done to save them from the wrath of Governor Johnson, who had a mortal distaste for pirates still at large. The Councilor calmed the perturbation by a.s.suring them:

"I have already spoken to His Excellency in behalf of these two men should they appear in this port. He was not wholly pleased but promised clemency should they offer to repent and if I gave surety for the pledge."

"They will be ready to live as respectable as Joe," impetuously declared Master c.o.c.krell. "I'll go bail on it. Bill Saxby is a tradesman by nature and if you will lend him enough money to set himself up as a linen-draper and haberdasher, Uncle Peter, he can live happily ever after."

"And old Trimble Rogers has sailed his last cruise under the Jolly Roger, Councilor," put in Joe Hawkridge. "His timbers are full o' dry rot and he seeks a safe mooring."

"There seems no end to the bad company you drag me into," quoth Uncle Peter. "My hat and broadcloth cloak, Jack, and let us fare to the gaol and see what these awkward visitors have to say. After that I will attend upon the Governor."

In better spirits the anxious lads followed the dignified Secretary of the Council to the strongly built gaol on the edge of the town. In a very gloomy cell behind iron bars they found the luckless brace of pirates, shackled hand and foot. Bill Saxby took it like a placid philosopher but the ancient buccaneer was spitting Spanish oaths and condemning the hospitality of Charles Town in violent terms. He quieted instantly at sight of his young friends and the harsh, wrinkled visage fairly beamed as he shouted:

"Our _camaradas_, Bill. Here they be, to haul us out of this filthy hole! I forgive the unmannerly folks that allus used to welcome us."

They shook hands through the bars while Uncle Peter stood aside. He felt that his official station forbade his joining this fraternal reunion. In the narrow corridor he chatted with the gaoler to pa.s.s the time while Bill Saxby was explaining to the lads:

"We was in duty bound, in a manner of speakin', to run you down as soon as possible and make a report. Eh, Trimble?"

"Aye, Bill, to see what was to be done about the treasure. We wouldn't have 'em think we had run off with it. D'ye see, Master c.o.c.krell, me and Bill took Cap'n Bonnet into our confidence. He is an honorable man and to be mentioned along with the great Cap'n Ed'ard Davis what I was shipmates with in the South Sea and at the sack of----"

"Stow it, grandsire," cried Bill. "I don't want to linger in gaol while you spin that long-winded yarn. Tell the lads what they want to know."

"If I weren't chained to the wall, Bill, I'd put my fist in your eye,"

severely retorted the veteran. "As I was a-sayin', Cap'n Bonnet was all courtesy and allowed the treasure belonged to us and he was ready to help find it."

"We told him we had to join up with our gentleman partner, Master c.o.c.krell, and win his consent," said Bill, "afore we put our hooks on that blessed sea-chest."

"Which is exactly how I felt about you," Jack told them and he was greatly touched by this proof of their unbending fidelity. "But how did you manage it to reach Charles Town?"

"Cap'n Bonnet hove to outside the bar last night," explained Trimble Rogers, "and gave us a handy boat to sail in with."

The wary Joe Hawkridge took alarm at this and put a finger to his lips.

It was unwise to parade the fact that Stede Bonnet cruised so near. His Excellency, the Governor, was anxious that he should share the fate of Blackbeard. Jack c.o.c.krell had no fear that his Uncle Peter would be a tale-bearer. His private honor would forbid because this interview with the two lads was a privileged communication. What made Jack a trifle anxious was the presence of the gaol keeper in the corridor. He was a sneaking sort of man, soft of tread and oily of speech and inclined to curry favor with those in authority.

Councilor Peter Forbes had tactfully withdrawn this person beyond earshot but he began to edge toward the cell. Old Trimble Rogers tried to heed Joe's cautionary signal but what he meant to be a whisper was a hoa.r.s.e rumble as he explained:

"Cap'n Bonnet sends word he will be off this coast again in thirty days.

He will come ash.o.r.e hisself, to Sullivan's Island to get the answer, whether you are to go with us, Master c.o.c.krell, to Cherokee Inlet."

Jack glanced at the gaol keeper but he was a dozen feet away and deep in talk with Mr. Forbes. There was no sign that this confidence had been overheard. Bill Saxby scolded the buccaneer for his careless speech but the old man had been a freebooter too long to be easily tamed. With artful design, Jack led him away from this dangerous ground and suggested:

"You are done with pirating? And will you both be ready to stay ash.o.r.e in Charles Town after this,--this certain errand is accomplished?"

"I swear it gladly and on my own Bible," answered Trimble Rogers.

"Swear it for me," said Bill Saxby.

Mr. Forbes interrupted and told the lads to go home and await his conference with Governor Johnson. It proved to be a session somewhat stormy but the upshot was a pardon conditioned on good behavior. The convincing argument was that these men had been faithful to Master c.o.c.krell through thick and thin and had saved him from perishing in the Cherokee swamp. Moreover, it might be an inducement to others of Stede Bonnet's crew to surrender themselves and forsake their evil ways.

No sooner were these two pirates released from gaol than they found an active friend in Mr. Peter Forbes. He went about it quietly, for obvious reasons, but he felt under great obligation to them for their goodness to his nephew. Just at this time one of the shop-keepers became a bankrupt because of unthrifty habits and too much card-playing. Through an agent, Peter Forbes purchased the stock of muslins and calicos, of brocades and taffetas, calash bonnets, satin petticoats, shoe-buckles, laces, and b.u.t.tons. And having given his promissory notes for said merchandise, Bill Saxby proudly hung his own sign-board over the door.