The Jolly Roger Tales: 60+ Pirate Novels, Treasure-Hunt Tales & Sea Adventures. Лаймен Фрэнк Баум

a small boat coming into the harbor under a rag of sail. At first it was taken for a fishing craft and there was no comment until it was quite close. Then they saw that it was a ship's jolly-boat much the worse for wear, with only two occupants. These were half-naked lads, burned black to the waist, with a queer kind of canvas head-gear as a protection against the sun.

      The boat was steered to pass under the stern of the King George and the crew was unable to fathom if these were pirates or victims of another shipwreck. Captain Wellsby solved it by shouting:

      "Both your guesses are right! One is the pirate younker that served our cause in the Plymouth Adventure and t'other is Master Jack Cockrell!"

      One of the Charles Town volunteers heard only the word pirate and growled, with an oath:

      "One o' Blackbeard's spawn? We'll make precious short work of him. Hand me a musket and I will save trouble for the hangman."

      "Here, stop that," said Captain Wellsby, beckoning his own men. "You old Adventure hands know better. Quell these lubbers. If there's to be hostile feeling ashore I shall take this lad aboard under my own protection."

      During this argument the sea-worn pilgrims in the jolly-boat had recognized the shipmaster and were joyfully yelling at him. In response to his gesture, they pulled down the sail and rowed to the gangway of the brigantine. There was no need to fear the wrath of the Charles Town seamen, because the Adventure hands stood by as a guard while they explained how this young Joe Hawkridge had valiantly helped to turn the tide of battle against the prize crew of pirates. And there was such a rousing welcome for Master Cockrell that all else was forgotten. His old shipmates fairly mobbed him.

      "I will fire a gun and hoist all the bunting to signal the town," cried the skipper, his face shining. "And presently I'll send you to the wharf in my own boat, but first tell me, boys, who took you off the little raft and whence come you in this ship's boat?"

      "Blackbeard rescued us. And we borrowed the boat from him," demurely answered Jack, watching the effect of this bombshell of a sensation.

      "Blackbeard!" echoed the bedazed shipmaster and the others chimed it like a chorus.

      "Aye, old Buckets o' Blood hisself," grinned Joe Hawkridge. "We had him tamed proper when we parted company. First we chased him through a swamp till his tongue hung out and left him mired to the whiskers. Then for another lark we scared him in his own ship so he begged us on his knees to forbear. We learned Cap'n Ed'ard Teach his manners, eh, Jack?"

      This was too much for the audience which stood agape. A dozen voices at once implored enlightenment. With a lordly air for a youth whose costume was mostly one leg of his breeches, Master Cockrell reproved them to wit:

      "Captain Stede Bonnet was more courteous to our distress when we sailed with him. He gave us a thumping big breakfast."

      "Right-o," declared Joe. "'Tis our custom to spin strange yarns for clothes and vittles in payment."

      The men scampered to the galley and pantry but refused to let Captain Wellsby carry these rare entertainers into the cabin. Graciously they sketched the chief events, omitting all mention of the treasure chest, and Jack explained in conclusion:

      "And so I was stricken homesick, like an illness, and Joe had his fill of pirates, too. The wind was wrong to rejoin Captain Bonnet in the Inlet harbor after we shipped as ghosts in the jolly-boat, and we had a mariner's chart of the Carolina coast and——"

      "But what did you do for subsistence?" broke in Captain Wellsby.

      "Food and water?" answered Joe. "Oh, we landed when the thirst plagued us too bad. And there was rain to fill a bight of the sail and a pannikin to save it in."

      "And we lived on oysters mostly," said Jack, "and Joe killed a fat opossum with a club, and we caught some fish in a net which I knotted from a ball of marline that was in the boat. And we foraged for pawpaws and persimmons."

      "And whenever the breeze was fair we put to sea again," said Joe, "and it was a long and weary voyage, though not so many leagues on the chart."

      The captain's boat was ready and they tumbled in, two wayfarers of the sea who were as lean and sun-dried as the buccaneers of old Trimble Rogers' fond memories. Hardships had seasoned and weathered them like good ash staves. On the wharf was Uncle Peter Forbes and Governor Johnson and a concourse of townspeople drawn by the joyous signals flown from the brigantine. Jack looked in vain for Dorothy Stuart and was thankful that her welcome was deferred. Shears and a razor and Christian raiment would make him look less like a savage from the coast of Barbary.

      Uncle Peter wasted a vast deal of pity, thinking the castaways too weak and wasted to walk. Jack strode along with him, the crowd at their heels, and soon had the plump Councilor puffing for breath. They insisted on taking Joe Hawkridge with them although he was for seeking lodgings at the tavern. He was one of the household, declared Mr. Forbes, while Jack warned him to beware of impertinence lest he be sentenced to chop wood for the kitchen fire.

      The neighbors and friends, as curious as they were joyful, were barred from the house while the lads talked and Uncle Peter carefully made notes of it all. It was too much for him to realize that Jack was sitting there lusty and laughing and with the dutifully respectful manner as of yore, in spite of the man's part he had played to the hilt. Of all the exploits, that which most fascinated Mr. Peter Forbes was the chase after Blackbeard's sea-chest weighty with treasure and the discovery of the knoll in the Cherokee swamp where he might have buried other booty. Here was a picaresque romance which allured the methodical barrister and Councilor and he was as boyishly excited as his nephew. He examined the chart which Jack had copied from his rude sketch made on a piece of bark and this raised a question which he was quick to ask:

      "What of Bill Saxby and this old bloodhound of a Trimble Rogers? As soon as Stede Bonnet could get the Revenge to sea, I have no doubt he sailed to Cape Fear River to get these pirate comrades of yours and the seamen he left to find them. Once aboard, they would urge Bonnet to return to Cherokee Inlet and let them go hunt the treasure."

      "That may be, but we can trust them to deal fair by us," replied Jack.

      "Possibly," was the skeptical comment. Mr. Forbes was not too ready to believe in honest pirates.

      "I'm not sure Cap'n Bonnet had a mind to bother with this treasure hunting," suggested Joe Hawkridge. "Leastwise, he may ha' put it off to an easier day. He has friends that keep him well informed, such as the Governor of North Carolina at Bath Town. And all this flurry against piratin', here and in Virginia, 'ud be apt to make Cap'n Bonnet wary of bein' trapped on the coast."

      "Joe is full of wisdom, as usual," said Master Cockrell. "And if Blackbeard has cruised to the Spanish Main, as we suspect, the treasure may lie undisturbed for a while."

      "Concerning Blackbeard, the evidence then in hand warranted your conclusions," was Uncle Peter's judicial comment, "but I have received later information. The rumor is, and well-founded, that he turned his ship and made for the Pamlico River with the intention of obtaining pardon from the false and greedy Governor Eden. This would baffle our plans against him, or so he would assume. And it would enable him to remain within convenient distance of his treasure."

      "Would this Province and Virginia respect such a pardon as that?" queried Jack.

      "Not in the case of Blackbeard," snapped the Councilor, "because we know it would be violated as soon as this treacherous villain could safely return to his piracies."

      "Then Joe and I will enlist in the King George brigantine," cried Jack. "Captain Wellsby tells me she will sail for Virginia inside the week."

      Uncle Peter was about to make violent protest but he checked himself and his emotions were torn betwixt pride and yearning affection. He could not bear to let his nephew go so soon to new perils, but what right had he to try to shield him when the public duty called? It was idle to pretend that Jack was too young and tender to embark on such service as this. He was fitter for it than some of the other volunteers. And so the unhappy Uncle Peter walked the floor with his cheeks puffed out and his hands clasped behind him and said, with a tremulous sigh: