your senior warden? An' to him do ye talk o' takin' awa' his goods an'

legal chattels?"

Bonnet looked at Greenway with indignation and contempt.

"Now listen to me," he yelled. "To the devil with the vestry and da--"

the Scotchman's eyes and mouth were so rounded with horror that Bonnet stopped and changed his form of expression--"confound the senior warden.

I am the pirate Bonnet, and regard not the Church of England."

"Nor your friends?" interpolated Ben.

"Nor friends nor any man," shouted Bonnet.

"Abner Marchand, I am sorry that your vessel should be the first one to fall into my power, but that has happened, and there is no help for it.

My men are below ransacking your hold for the goods and treasure it may contain. When your cargo, or what we want of it, is safe upon my ship, I shall burn your vessel, and you and your men must walk the plank."

At this dreadful statement, Ben Greenway staggered backward in speechless dismay.

"Yes," cried Bonnet, "that shall I do, for there is naught else I can do. And then you shall see, you doubting Greenway, whether I am a pirate or no."

To all this Captain Marchand said not a word. But at this moment a woman's scream was heard from below, and then there was another scream from another woman. Captain Marchand started.

"Your men have wandered into my cabin," he exclaimed, "and they have frightened my pa.s.sengers. Shall I go and bring them up, Major Bonnet?

They will be better here."

"Ay, ay!" cried the pirate captain, surprised that there should be female pa.s.sengers on board, and Marchand, followed by Ben Greenway, disappeared below.

"Confound women pa.s.sengers," said Bonnet to himself; "that is truly a bit of bad luck."

In a few minutes Marchand was back, bringing with him a middle-aged and somewhat pudgy woman, very pale; a younger woman of exceeding plainness, and sobbing steadfastly; and also an elderly man, evidently an invalid, and wearing a long dressing-gown.

"These," said Captain Marchand, "are Master and Madam Ballinger and daughter, of York in England, who have been sojourning in Jamaica for the health of the gentleman, but are now sailing with me to Barbadoes, hoping the air of our good island may be more salubrious for the lungs."

Captain Bonnet had never been in the habit of speaking loudly before ladies, but he now felt that he must stand by his character.

"You cannot have heard," he almost shouted, "that I am the pirate Bonnet, and that your vessel is now my prize."

At this the two ladies began to scream vigorously, and the form of the gentleman trembled to such a degree that his cane beat a tattoo upon the deck.

"Yes," continued Bonnet, "when my men have stripped this ship of its valuables I shall burn her to the water's edge, and, having removed you to my vessel, I shall shortly make you walk the plank."

Here the younger lady began to stiffen herself out as if she were about to faint in the arms of Captain Marchand, who had suddenly seized her; but her great curiosity to hear more kept her still conscious. Mrs.

Ballinger grew very red in the face.

"That cannot be," she cried; "you may do what you please with our belongings and with Captain Marchand's ship, but my husband is too sick a man to walk a plank. You have not noticed, perchance, that his legs are so feeble that he could scarce mount from the cabin to the deck. It would be impossible for him to walk a plank; and as for my daughter and myself, we know nothing about such a thing, and could not, out of sheer ignorance."

For a moment a shadow of perplexity fell upon Captain Bonnet's face. He could readily perceive that the infirm Mr. Ballinger could not walk a plank, or even mount one, unless some one went with him to a.s.sist him, and as to his wife, she was evidently a termagant; and, having sailed his ship and floated his Jolly Roger in order to get rid of one termagant, he was greatly annoyed at being brought thus, face to face, with another. He stood for a moment silent. The old gentleman looked as if he would like to go down to his cabin and cover up his head with his blanket until all this commotion should be over; the daughter sobbed as she gazed about her, taking in every point of this most novel situation; and the mother, with dilated nostrils, still glared.

In the midst of all this varying disturbance Captain Marchand stood quiet and unmoved, apparently paying no attention to any one except his old neighbour and fellow-vestryman, Stede Bonnet, upon whose face his eyes were steadily fixed.

Ben Greenway now approached the pirate captain and led him aside.

"Let your men make awa' wi' the cargo as they please--I doubt if it be more than odds an' ends, for such are the goods they bring to Bridgetown--an' let them cast off an' go their way, an' ye an' I will return to Bridgetown in the Amanda an' a' may yet be weel, this bit o'

folly bein' forgotten."

It might have been supposed that Bonnet would have retaliated upon the Scotchman for thus advising him, in the very moment of triumph, to give up his piratical career and to go home quietly to his plantation, but, instead of that, he paused for a moment's reflection.

"Ben Greenway," said he, "there is good sense in what you say. In truth, I cannot bring myself to put to death my old friend and neighbour and his helpless pa.s.sengers. As for the ship, it will do me no more good burned than unburned. And there is another thing, Ben Greenway, which I would fain do, and it just came into my mind. I will write a letter to my wife and one to my daughter Kate. There is much which I wish them to know and which I have not yet been able to communicate. I will allow the Amanda to go on her way and I will send these two letters by her captain. They shall be ready presently, and you, Ben, stand by these people and see that no harm comes to them."

At this moment there were loud shouts and laughter from below, and Captain Marchand came forward.

"Friend Bonnet," he said, "your men have discovered my store of spirits; in a short time they will be drunk, and it will then be unsafe for these, my pa.s.sengers. Bid them, I pray you, to convey the liquors aboard your ship."

"Well said!" cried Bonnet. "I would not lose those spirits." And, stepping forward, he spoke to Big Sam, who had just appeared on deck, and ordered the casks to be conveyed on board the Revenge.

The latter laughed, but said: "Ay, ay, sir!"

Returning to Captain Marchand, Bonnet said: "I will now step on board my ship and write some letters, which I shall ask you to take to Bridgetown with you. I shall be ready by the time the rest of your cargo is removed."

"Oh, don't do that!" cried Ben; "there is surely pen an' paper here, close to your hand. Go down to Captain Marchand's cabin an' write your letters."

"No, no," cried Bonnet, "I have my own conveniences." And with that he leaped on board the Revenge.

"That's a chance gone," said Ben Greenway to Captain Marchand, "a good chance gone. If we could hae kept him on board here an' down in your cabin, I might hae pa.s.sed the word to that big miscreant, the sailing-master, to cast off an' get awa' wi' that wretched crowd. The scoundrels will be glad to steal the ship, an' it will be the salvation o' Master Bonnet if they do it."

"If that's the case," said Captain Marchand, "why should we resort to trickery? If his men want his ship and don't want him, why can't we seize him when he comes on board with his letters, and then let his men know that they are free to go to the devil in any way they please? Then we can convey Major Bonnet to his home, to repentance, perhaps, and a better life."

"That's good," said Ben, "but no' to punishment. Ye an' I could testify that his head is turned, but that, when kindness to a neebour is concerned, his heart is all right."

"Ay, ay," said the captain, "I could swear to that. And now we must act together. When I put my hand on him, you do the same, and give him no chance to use his sword or pistols."

The captain of the pirates sat down in his well-furnished little room to write his letters, and the noise and confusion on deck, the swearing and the singing and the shouting to be heard everywhere, did not seem to disturb him in the least. He was a man whose mind could thoroughly engage itself with but one thing at a time, and the fact that his men were at work sacking the merchantman did not in the least divert his thoughts from his pen and paper.

So he quietly wrote to his wife that he had embraced a pirate's life, that he never expected to become a planter again, and that he left to her the enjoyment and management of his estate in Barbadoes. He hoped that, his absence having now relieved her of her princ.i.p.al reason for discontent with her lot, she would become happy and satisfied, and would allow those about her to be the same. He expected to send Ben Greenway back to her to help take care of her affairs, but if she should need further advice he advised her to speak to Master Newcombe.

The letter to his daughter was different; it was very affectionate. He a.s.sured her of his sorrow at not being able to take her with him and to leave her at Jamaica, and he urged her at the earliest possible moment to go to her uncle and to remain there until she heard from him or saw him--the latter being probable, as he intended to visit Jamaica as soon as he could, even in disguise if this method were necessary. He alluded to the glorious career upon which he was entering, and in which he expected some day to make a great name for himself, of which he hoped she would be proud.

When these letters were finished Bonnet hurried to the side of the vessel and looked upon the deck of the Amanda.

Captain Marchand and Greenway had been waiting in anxious expectation for the return of Bonnet, and wondering how in the world a man could bring his mind to write letters at such a time as this.

"Take these letters, Ben," he said, leaning over the rail, "and give them to Captain Marchand."

Ben Greenway at first declined to take the letters which Bonnet held out to him, but the latter now threw them at his feet on the deck, and, running forward, he soon found himself in a violent and disorderly crowd, who did not seem to regard him at all; booty and drink were all they cared for. Presently came Big Sam, giving orders and thrusting the men before him. He had not been drinking, and was in full possession of his crafty senses.

"Throw off the grapnels," exclaimed Big Sam, "and get up the foresel!"

And then he perceived Bonnet. With a scowl upon his face Big Sam muttered: "I thought you were on the merchantman, but no matter. Shove her off, I say, or I'll break your heads."

The grapnels were loosened; the few men who were on duty shoved desperately; the foresail went up, and the two vessels began to separate. But they were not a foot apart when, with a great rush and scramble, Ben Greenway left the merchantman and tumbled himself on board the Revenge.