Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates Page 3

  Chapter II. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND

  IT is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a manbecause of something that his grandfather may have done amiss, but theworld, which is never overnice in its discrimination as to where to laythe blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer in the place ofthe guilty.

  Barnaby True was a good, honest, biddable lad, as boys go, but yet hewas not ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather hadbeen that very famous pirate, Capt. William Brand, who, after so manymarvelous adventures (if one may believe the catchpenny stories andballads that were written about him), was murdered in Jamaica by Capt.John Malyoe, the commander of his own consort, the Adventure galley.

  It has never been denied, that ever I heard, that up to the time ofCaptain Brand's being commissioned against the South Sea pirates he hadalways been esteemed as honest, reputable a sea captain as could be.

  When he started out upon that adventure it was with a ship, the RoyalSovereign, fitted out by some of the most decent merchants of New York.The governor himself had subscribed to the adventure, and had himselfsigned Captain Brand's commission. So, if the unfortunate man wentastray, he must have had great temptation to do so, many others behavingno better when the opportunity offered in those far-away seas where somany rich purchases might very easily be taken and no one the wiser.

  To be sure, those stories and ballads made our captain to be a mostwicked, profane wretch; and if he were, why, God knows he suffered andpaid for it, for he laid his bones in Jamaica, and never saw his homeor his wife and daughter again after he had sailed away on the RoyalSovereign on that long misfortunate voyage, leaving them in New York tothe care of strangers.

  At the time when he met his fate in Port Royal Harbor he had obtainedtwo vessels under his command--the Royal Sovereign, which was the boatfitted out for him in New York, and the Adventure galley, which he wassaid to have taken somewhere in the South Seas. With these he lay inthose waters of Jamaica for over a month after his return from thecoasts of Africa, waiting for news from home, which, when it came, wasof the very blackest; for the colonial authorities were at that timestirred 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. Somaybe it seemed better to our captain to hide his ill-gotten treasurethere in those far-away parts, and afterward to try and bargain with itfor his life when he should reach New York, rather than to sail straightfor the Americas with what he had earned by his piracies, and so risklosing life and money both.

  However that might be, the story was that Captain Brand and his gunner,and Captain Malyoe of the Adventure and the sailing master of theAdventure all went ashore together with a chest of money (no one of themchoosing to trust the other three in so nice an affair), and buried thetreasure somewhere on the beach of Port Royal Harbor. The story then hasit that they fell a-quarreling about a future division or the money,and that, as a wind-up to the affair, Captain Malyoe shot Captain Brandthrough the head, while the sailing master of the Adventure served thegunner of the Royal Sovereign after the same fashion through the body,and that the murderers then went away, leaving the two stretched outin their own blood on the sand in the staring sun, with no one to knowwhere the money was hid but they two who had served their comrades so.

  It is a mighty great pity that anyone should have a grandfather whoended his days in such a sort as this, but it was no fault of BarnabyTrue's, nor could he have done anything to prevent it, seeing that hewas not even born into the world at the time that his grandfather turnedpirate, and was only one year old when he so met his tragical end.Nevertheless, the boys with whom he went to school never tired ofcalling him "Pirate," and would sometimes sing for his benefit thatfamous catchpenny song beginning thus:

  Oh, my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing, And a-sailing; Oh, my name was Captain Brand, A-sailing free. Oh, my name was Captain Brand, And I sinned by sea and land, For I broke God's just command, A-sailing free.

  'Twas a vile thing to sing at the grandson of so misfortunate a man, andoftentimes little Barnaby True would double up his fists and would fighthis tormentors at great odds, and would sometimes go back home with abloody 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 hiscomrades did treat him so, why, then, there were other times when heand they were as great friends as could be, and would go in swimmingtogether where there was a bit of sandy strand along the East Riverabove Fort George, and that in the most amicable fashion. Or, maybethe very next day after he had fought so with his fellows, he would goa-rambling with them up the Bowerie Road, perhaps to help them stealcherries from some old Dutch farmer, forgetting in such adventure what athief his own grandfather had been.

  Well, when Barnaby True was between sixteen and seventeen years old hewas taken into employment in the countinghouse of Mr. Roger Hartright,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 forBarnaby in the countinghouse, but advanced him so fast that against ourhero was twenty-one years old he had made four voyages as supercargo tothe West Indies in Mr. Hartright's ship, the Belle Helen, and soon afterhe was twenty-one undertook a fifth. Nor was it in any such subordinateposition as mere supercargo that he acted, but rather as theconfidential agent of Mr. Hartright, who, having no children of hisown, was very jealous to advance our hero into a position of trust andresponsibility in the countinghouse, as though he were indeed a son, sothat even the captain of the ship had scarcely more consideration aboardthan he, young as he was in years.

  As for the agents and correspondents of Mr. Hartright throughout theseparts, they also, knowing how the good man had adopted his interests,were very polite and obliging to Master Barnaby--especially, be itmentioned, Mr. Ambrose Greenfield, of Kingston, Jamaica, who, upon theoccasions of his visits to those parts, did all that he could to makeBarnaby'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 thisstory, without which you shall hardly be able to understand the purportof those most extraordinary adventures that befell him shortly after hecame 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 ofthose extraordinary adventures happened of which I shall have presentlyto 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.Anne Bolles, who, with three pleasant and agreeable daughters, kept avery clean and well-served lodging house in the outskirts of the town.

  One morning, as our hero sat sipping his coffee, clad only in loosecotton drawers, a shirt, and a jacket, and with slippers upon his feet,as is the custom in that country, where everyone endeavors to keep ascool as may be while he sat thus sipping his coffee Miss Eliza, theyoungest of the three daughters, came and gave him a note, which,she said, a stranger had just handed in at the door, going away againwithout waiting for a reply. You may judge of Barnaby's surprise when heopened 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 Harbor 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 withoutany superscription whatever.

  The first emotion that stirred Barnaby was one of extreme and profoundamazement. 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 theywere was attempting to play off some smart jest upon him. But allthat Miss Eliza could tell him when he questioned her concerning themessenger was that the bearer of the note was a tall, stout man, witha red neckerchief around his neck and copper buckles to his shoes, andthat he had the appearance of a sailorman, having a great big queuehanging down his back. But, Lord! what was such a description as thatin a busy seaport town, full of scores of men to fit such a likeness?Accordingly, our hero put away the note into his wallet, determining toshow it to his good friend Mr. Greenfield that evening, and to ask hisadvice upon it. So he did show it, and that gentleman's opinion was thesame as his--that some wag was minded to play off a hoax upon him, andthat the matter of the letter was all nothing but smoke.

  Nevertheless, though Barnaby was thus confirmed in his opinion as to thenature of the communication he had received, he yet determined in hisown mind that he would see the business through to the end, and would beat Pratt's Ordinary, as the note demanded, upon the day and at the timespecified therein.

  Pratt's Ordinary was at that time a very fine and well-known place ofits sort, with good tobacco and the best rum that ever I tasted, and hada garden behind it that, sloping down to the harbor front, was plantedpretty thick with palms and ferns grouped into clusters with flowers andplants. Here were a number of little tables, some in little grottoes,like our Vauxhall in New York, and with red and blue and white paperlanterns hung among the foliage, whither gentlemen and ladies usedsometimes to go of an evening to sit and drink lime juice and sugar andwater (and sometimes a taste of something stronger), and to look outacross the water at the shipping in the cool of the night.

  Thither, accordingly, our hero went, a little before the time appointedin the note, and passing directly through the Ordinary and the gardenbeyond, chose a table at the lower end of the garden and close to thewater's edge, where he would not be easily seen by anyone coming intothe place. Then, ordering some rum and water and a pipe of tobacco, hecomposed himself to watch for the appearance of those witty fellows whomhe suspected would presently come thither to see the end of their prankand to enjoy his confusion.

  The spot was pleasant enough; for the land breeze, blowing strong andfull, set the leaves of the palm tree above his head to rattling andclattering continually against the sky, where, the moon then being aboutfull, they shone every now and then like blades of steel. The waves alsowere splashing up against the little landing place at the foot of thegarden, sounding very cool in the night, and sparkling all over theharbor where the moon caught the edges of the water. A great manyvessels were lying at anchor in their ridings, with the dark, prodigiousform 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 oftobacco and sipping his grog, and seeing not so much as a single thingthat 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 thelanding place at the foot of the garden above mentioned, and threeor four men came ashore in the darkness. Without saying a word amongthemselves they chose a near-by table and, sitting down, ordered rumand water, and began drinking their grog in silence. They might havesat there about five minutes, when, by and by, Barnaby True became awarethat they were observing him very curiously; and then almost immediatelyone, who was plainly the leader of the party, called out to him:

  "How now, messmate! Won't you come and drink a dram of rum with us?"

  "Why, no," says Barnaby, answering very civilly; "I have drunk enoughalready, and more would only heat my blood."

  "All the same," quoth the stranger, "I think you will come and drinkwith us; for, unless I am mistook, you are Mr. Barnaby True, and I amcome here to tell you that the Royal Sovereign is come in."

  Now I may honestly say that Barnaby True was never more struck aback inall his life than he was at hearing these words uttered in so unexpecteda manner. He had been looking to hear them under such differentcircumstances that, now that his ears heard them addressed to him, andthat so seriously, by a perfect stranger, who, with others, had thusmysteriously come ashore out of the darkness, he could scarce believethat his ears heard aright. His heart suddenly began beating at atremendous rate, and had he been an older and wiser man, I do believehe would have declined the adventure, instead of leaping blindly, ashe did, into that of which he could see neither the beginning nor theending. But being barely one-and-twenty years of age, and having anadventurous disposition that would have carried him into almost anythingthat possessed a smack of uncertainty or danger about it, he contrivedto say, in a pretty easy tone (though God knows how it was put on forthe occasion):

  "Well, then, if that be so, and if the Royal Sovereign is indeedcome in, why, I'll join you, since you are so kind as to ask me." Andtherewith 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 couldassume upon the occasion.

  "Well, Mr. Barnaby True," said the man who had before addressed him, sosoon 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 thoughI know you, you don't know me I am glad to see that you are man enoughto 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 mettle, and are deserving of thefortune that is to befall you to-night. Nevertheless, first of all, Iam bid to say that you must show me a piece of paper that you have aboutyou before we go a step farther."

  "Very well," said Barnaby; "I have it here safe and sound, and seeit you shall." And thereupon and without more ado he fetched out hiswallet, opened it, and handed his interlocutor the mysterious note hehad received the day or two before. Whereupon the other, drawing to himthe candle, burning there for the convenience of those who would smoketobacco, 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 copperbuckles on his shoes, so that Barnaby True could not but wonder whetherhe was not the very same man who had given the note to Miss Eliza Bollesat the door of his lodging house.

  "'Tis all right and straight as it should be," the other said, after hehad so glanced his eyes over the note. "And now that the paper is read"(suiting his action to his words), "I'll just burn it, for safety'ssake."

  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 amhere for. I was sent to ask you if you're man enough to take your lifein 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 ashorehere at Jamaica--though you don't know what that means--and if he getsahead 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 againin this sort. So now speak up plain, young gentleman, and tell uswhat is your mind in this business, and whether you will adventure anyfarther or not."

  If our hero hesitated it was not for long. I cannot say that his couragedid 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 man enough to go with you," he said; "and if you meanme any harm I can look out for myself; and if I can't, why, here issomething can look out for me," and therewith he lifted up the flap ofhis coat pocket and showed the butt of a pistol he had fetched with himwhen he had set out from his lodging house that evening.

  At this the other burst out a-laughing. "Come," says he, "you are indeedof right mettle, and I like your spirit. All the same, no one in all theworld means you less ill than I, and so, if you have to use that barker,'twill not be upon us who are your friends, but only upon one who ismore 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 allthis 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 landingplace at the bottom of the garden.

  Thus coming to it, our hero could see that it was a large yawl boatmanned with half a score of black men for rowers, and there were twolanterns in the stern sheets, and three or four iron shovels.

  The man who had conducted the conversation with Barnaby True for allthis time, and who was, as has been said, plainly the captain of theparty, stepped immediately down into the boat; our hero followed, andthe others followed after him; and instantly they were seated the boatwas shoved off and the black men began pulling straight out into theharbor, and so, at some distance away, around under the stern of theman-of-war.

  Not a word was spoken after they had thus left the shore, and presentlythey might all have been ghosts, for the silence of the party. BarnabyTrue was too full of his own thoughts to talk--and serious enoughthoughts they were by this time, with crimps to trepan a man at everyturn, and press gangs to carry a man off so that he might never be heardof again. As for the others, they did not seem to choose to say anythingnow that they had him fairly embarked upon their enterprise.

  And so the crew pulled on in perfect silence for the best part of anhour, the leader of the expedition directing the course of the boatstraight across the harbor, as though toward the mouth of the Rio CobraRiver. Indeed, this was their destination, as Barnaby could after awhile see, by the low point of land with a great long row of coconutpalms upon it (the appearance of which he knew very well), which by andby began to loom up out of the milky dimness of the moonlight. As theyapproached the river they found the tide was running strong out ofit, so that some distance away from the stream it gurgled and rippledalongside the boat as the crew of black men pulled strongly againstit. Thus they came up under what was either a point of land or an isletcovered with a thick growth of mangrove trees. But still no one spoke asingle word as to their destination, or what was the business they hadin hand.

  The night, now that they were close to the shore, was loud with thenoise of running tide-water, and the air was heavy with the smell of mudand marsh, and over all the whiteness of the moonlight, with a few starspricking out here and there in the sky; and all so strange and silentand mysterious that Barnaby could not divest himself of the feeling thatit was all a dream.

  So, the rowers bending to the oars, the boat came slowly around fromunder 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 sharpvoice, and the black men instantly lay on their oars.

  Almost at the same instant Barnaby True became aware that there wasanother boat coming down the river toward where they lay, now driftingwith the strong tide out into the harbor again, and he knew that it wasbecause of the approach of that boat that the other had called upon hismen to cease rowing.

  The other boat, as well as he could see in the distance, was full ofmen, some of whom appeared to be armed, for even in the dusk of thedarkness the shine of the moonlight glimmered sharply now and then onthe barrels of muskets or pistols, and in the silence that followedafter their own rowing had ceased Barnaby True could hear the chug!chug! of the oars sounding louder and louder through the waterystillness of the night as the boat drew nearer and nearer. But he knewnothing of what it all meant, nor whether these others were friends orenemies, or what was to happen next.

  The oarsmen of the approaching boat did not for a moment ceasetheir rowing, not till they had come pretty close to Barnaby and hiscompanions. Then a man who sat in the stern ordered them to ceaserowing, 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 uponhim--a large, stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a finelaced coat of red cloth. Amidship of the boat was a box or chest aboutthe bigness of a middle-sized traveling trunk, but covered all overwith cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing, the gentleman, stillstanding, pointed at it with an elegant gold-headed cane which he heldin his hand. "Are you come after this, Abraham Dawling?" says he, andthereat his countenance broke into as evil, malignant a grin as everBarnaby True saw in all of his life.

  The other did not immediately reply so much as a single word, but satas still as any stone. Then, at last, the other boat having gone by, hesuddenly appeared to regain his wits, for he bawled out after it, "Verywell, Jack Malyoe! very well, Jack Malyoe! you've got ahead of us thistime 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 agreat roaring fit of laughter.

  There was another man among the armed men in the stern of the passingboat--a villainous, lean man with lantern jaws, and the top of his headas bald as the palm of my hand. As the boat went away into the nightwith the tide and the headway the oars had given it, he grinned so thatthe moonlight shone white on his big teeth. Then, flourishing a greatbig pistol, he said, and Barnaby could hear every word he spoke, "Do butgive me the word, Your Honor, and I'll put another bullet through theson of a sea cook."

  But the gentleman said some words to forbid him, and therewith the boatwas gone away into the night, and presently Barnaby could hear thatthe 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 gonow?" he said.

  At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back tohimself, and to find his voice again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to thedevil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again--that's where we'llgo!" and therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing until he foamed atthe lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men beganrowing back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oarsinto the water.

  They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom house; but sobewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what hehad seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcelyconscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himselfthus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodginglike one drunk or bewildered; for "John Malyoe" was the name ofthe captain of the Adventure galley--he who had shot Barnaby's owngrandfather--and "Abraham Dawling" was the name of the gunner of theRoyal Sovereign who had been shot at the same time with the piratecaptain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staringsun by the murderers.

  The whole business had occupied hardly two hours, but it was as thoughthat time was no part of Barnaby's life, but all a part of some otherlife, so dark and strange and mysterious that it in no wise belonged tohim.

  As for that box covered all over with mud, he could only guess at thattime what it contained and what the finding of it signified.

  But of this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a singleliving 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 nothingelse for days after.

  Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartright'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 youngladies with black hair and eyes, and very fine bright teeth that shonewhenever they laughed, and with a plenty to say for themselves. ThitherBarnaby True was often asked to a family dinner; and, indeed, it was apleasant home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarrowith the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains, while theyoung ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. Andoftentimes so it was strongly upon Barnaby's mind to speak to the goodgentleman and tell him what he had beheld that night out in the harbor;but always he would think better of it and hold
his peace, falling tothinking, and smoking away upon his cigarro at a great rate.

  A day or two before the Belle Helen sailed from Kingston Mr. Greenfieldstopped Barnaby True as he was going through the office to bid him tocome to dinner that night (for there within the tropics they breakfastat eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because ofthe heat, and not at midday, as we do in more temperate latitudes). "Iwould have you meet," says Mr. Greenfield, "your chief passenger forNew York, and his granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the twostaterooms are to be fitted as here ordered [showing a letter]--Sir JohnMalyoe and Miss Marjorie Malyoe. Did you ever hear tell of Capt. JackMalyoe, Master Barnaby?"

  Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that oldCaptain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Capt. John Malyoehis murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name of that man, whatwith that in itself and the late adventure through which he himself hadjust passed, and with his brooding upon it until it was so prodigiouslybig in his mind, it was like hitting him a blow to so fling thequestions at him. Nevertheless, he was able to reply, with a prettystraight face, that he had heard of Captain Malyoe and who he was.

  "Well," says Mr. Greenfield, "if Jack Malyoe was a desperate pirate anda wild, reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is Sir John Malyoe nowand the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire. Well, Master Barnaby, whenone is a baronet and come into the inheritance of a fine estate (thoughI do hear it is vastly cumbered with debts), the world will wink its eyeto much that he may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though,that his own kin still turn the cold shoulder to him."

  To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at hiscigarro at a great rate.

  And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first time withthe man who murdered his own grandfather--the greatest beast of a manthat ever he met in all of his life.

  That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance andin the darkness; now that he beheld him near by it seemed to him that hehad never looked at a more evil face in all his life. Not that the manwas altogether ugly, for he had a good nose and a fine double chin; buthis eyes stood out like balls and were red and watery, and he winkedthem continually, as though they were always smarting; and his lipswere thick and purple-red, and his fat, red cheeks were mottled hereand there with little clots of purple veins; and when he spoke his voicerattled so in his throat that it made one wish to clear one's own throatto listen to him. So, what with a pair of fat, white hands, and thathoarse voice, and his swollen face, and his thick lips sticking out, itseemed to Barnaby True he had never seen a countenance so distasteful tohim as that one into which he then looked.

  But if Sir John Malyoe was so displeasing to our hero's taste, why, thegranddaughter, even this first time he beheld her, seemed to him to bethe 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 prettywhite for the occasion--and the bluest eyes that Barnaby beheld in allof his life. A sweet, timid creature, who seemed not to dare so much asto speak a word for herself without looking to Sir John for leave to doso, and would shrink and shudder whenever he would speak of a sudden toher or direct a sudden glance upon her. When she did speak, it was in solow a voice that one had to bend his head to hear her, and even if shesmiled would catch herself and look up as though to see if she had leaveto be cheerful.

  As for Sir John, he sat at dinner like a pig, and gobbled and ate anddrank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a word to eitherher or Mrs. Greenfield or to Barnaby True; but with a sour, sullen air,as though he would say, "Your damned victuals and drink are no betterthan they should be, but I must eat 'em or nothing." A great bloatedbeast of a man!

  Only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two misses sat offin a corner together did Barnaby hear her talk with any ease. Then, tobe sure, her tongue became loose, and she prattled away at a great rate,though hardly above her breath, until of a sudden her grandfather calledout, in his hoarse, rattling voice, that it was time to go. Whereuponshe 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 theircoach, where Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And who shouldhe be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with bald head who hadoffered to shoot the leader of our hero's expedition out on the harborthat night! For, one of the circles of light from the lantern shiningup into his face, Barnaby True knew him the moment he clapped eyes uponhim. Though he could not have recognized our hero, he grinned at him inthe most impudent, familiar fashion, and never so much as touched hishat either to him or to Mr. Greenfield; but as soon as his masterand his young mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door andscrambled up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without aword, but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnabyand the old gentleman.

  Such were these two, master and man, and what Barnaby saw of them thenwas only confirmed by further observation--the most hateful couple heever knew; though, God knows, what they afterward suffered should wipeout all complaint against them.

  The next day Sir John Malyoe's belongings began to come aboard the BelleHelen, and in the afternoon that same lean, villainous manservant comesskipping across the gangplank as nimble as a goat, with two black menbehind him lugging a great sea chest. "What!" he cried out, "and so youis the supercargo, is you? Why, I thought you was more account whenI saw you last night a-sitting talking with His Honor like his equal.Well, no matter; 'tis something to have a brisk, genteel young fellowfor a supercargo. So come, my hearty, lend a hand, will you, and help meset His Honor's cabin to rights."

  What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow, to be sure! andBarnaby so high in his own esteem, and holding himself a gentleman!Well, what with his distaste for the villain, and what with such odiousfamiliarity, you can guess into what temper so impudent an address musthave cast him. "You'll find the steward in yonder," he said, "andhe'll show you the cabin," and therewith turned and walked away withprodigious dignity, leaving the other standing where he was.

  As he entered his own cabin he could not but see, out of the tail of hiseye, that the fellow was still standing where he had left him, regardinghim with a most evil, malevolent countenance, so that he had thesatisfaction of knowing that he had made one enemy during that voyagewho was not very likely to forgive or forget what he must regard as aslight put upon him.

  The next day Sir John Malyoe himself came aboard, accompanied by hisgranddaughter, and followed by this man, and he followed again by fourblack men, who carried among them two trunks, not large in size, butprodigious heavy in weight, and toward which Sir John and his followerdevoted the utmost solicitude and care to see that they were properlycarried into the state cabin he was to occupy. Barnaby True was standingin the great cabin as they passed close by him; but though Sir JohnMalyoe looked hard at him and straight in the face, he never so much asspoke a single word, or showed by a look or a sign that he knew who ourhero was. At this the serving man, who saw it all with eyes as quick asa cat's, fell to grinning and chuckling to see Barnaby in his turn soslighted.

  The young lady, who also saw it all, flushed up red, then in the instantof passing looked straight at our hero, and bowed and smiled at him witha most sweet and gracious affability, then the next moment recoveringherself, as though mightily frightened at what she had done.

  The same day the Belle Helen sailed, with as beautiful, sweet weather asever a body could wish for.

  There were only two other passengers aboard, the Rev. Simon Styles, themaster 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 bythe hour together reading, so that, what with Sir John Malyoe stayingall 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 younglady; 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 asweet, beautiful miss of seventeen so thrown together day after day fortwo weeks, the weather being very fair, as I have said, and the shiptossing and bowling along before a fine humming breeze that sent whitecaps all over the sea, and with nothing to do but sit and look at thatblue sea and the bright sky overhead, it is not hard to suppose what wasto befall, and what pleasure it was to Barnaby True to show attention toher.

  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 inhis berth at night, tossing this way and that without sleep--not thathe wanted to sleep if he could, but would rather lie so awake thinkingabout her and staring into the darkness!

  Poor fool! He might have known that the end must come to such a fool'sparadise before very long. For who was he to look up to Sir JohnMalyoe's granddaughter, he, the supercargo of a merchant ship, and shethe granddaughter of a baronet.

  Nevertheless, things went along very smooth and pleasant, until oneevening, when all came of a sudden to an end. At that time he and theyoung lady had been standing for a long while together, leaning overthe rail and looking out across the water through the dusk toward thewestward, where the sky was still of a lingering brightness. She hadbeen mightily quiet and dull all that evening, but now of a sudden shebegan, without any preface whatever, to tell Barnaby about herself andher affairs. She said that she and her grandfather were going to NewYork that they might take passage thence to Boston town, there to meether cousin Captain Malyoe, who was stationed in garrison at that place.Then she went on to say that Captain Malyoe was the next heir to theDevonshire estate, and that she and he were to be married in the fall.

  But, poor Barnaby! what a fool was he, to be sure! Methinks when shefirst began to speak about Captain Malyoe he knew what was coming. Butnow that she had told him, he could say nothing, but stood there staringacross 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 likedhim from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happyfor these days, and would always think of him as a dear friend who hadbeen very kind to her, who had so little pleasure in life, and so wouldalways remember him.

  Then they were both silent, until at last Barnaby made shift to say,though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malyoe must be avery happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malyoe's place he wouldbe the happiest man in the world. Thus, having spoken, and so found histongue, 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, butonly said, in a low voice, he should not talk so, for that it could onlybe a pain to them both to speak of such things, and that whether shewould or no, she must do everything as her grandfather bade her, forthat he was indeed a terrible man.

  To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all hisheart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he was nowthe most miserable man in the world.

  It was at this moment, so tragic for him, that some one who had beenhiding nigh them all the while suddenly moved away, and Barnaby Truecould see in the gathering darkness that it was that villain manservantof Sir John Malyoe's and knew that he must have overheard all that hadbeen said.

  The man went straight to the great cabin, and poor Barnaby, his brainall atingle, stood looking after him, feeling that now indeed the lastdrop of bitterness had been added to his trouble to have such a wretchoverhear what he had said.

  The young lady could not have seen the fellow, for she continued leaningover the rail, and Barnaby True, standing at her side, not moving, butin such a tumult of many passions that he was like one bewildered, andhis heart beating as though to smother him.

  So they stood for I know not how long when, of a sudden, Sir JohnMalyoe comes running out of the cabin, without his hat, but carrying hisgold-headed cane, and so straight across the deck to where Barnaby andthe young lady stood, that spying wretch close at his heels, grinninglike an imp.

  "You hussy!" bawled out Sir John, so soon as he had come pretty nearthem, and in so loud a voice that all on deck might have heard thewords; and as he spoke he waved his cane back and forth as though hewould have struck the young lady, who, shrinking back almost upon thedeck, crouched as though to escape such a blow. "You hussy!" he bawledout with vile oaths, too horrible here to be set down. "What do you dohere with this Yankee supercargo, not fit for a gentlewoman to wipe herfeet upon? Get to your cabin, you hussy" (only it was something worse hecalled her this time), "before I lay this cane across your shoulders!"

  What with the whirling of Barnaby's brains and the passion into which hewas already melted, what with his despair and his love, and his anger atthis address, a man gone mad could scarcely be less accountable for hisactions than was he at that moment. Hardly knowing what he did, he puthis hand against Sir John Malyoe's breast and thrust him violently back,crying out upon him in a great, loud, hoarse voice for threatening ayoung lady, and saying that for a farthing he would wrench the stick outof his hand and throw it overboard.

  Sir John went staggering back with the push Barnaby gave him, and thencaught himself up again. Then, with a great bellow, ran roaring at ourhero, whirling his cane about, and I do believe would have struck him(and God knows then what might have happened) had not his manservantcaught him and held him back.

  "Keep back!" cried out our hero, still mighty hoarse. "Keep back! If youstrike me with that stick I'll fling you overboard!"

  By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping offeet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up, and the nextmoment Captain Manly and the first mate, Mr. Freesden, came running outof the cabin. But Barnaby, who was by this fairly set agoing, could notnow stop himself.

  "And who are you, anyhow," he cried out, "to threaten to strike me andto insult me, who am as good as you? You dare not strike me! You mayshoot a man from behind, as you shot poor Captain Brand on the Rio CobraRiver, but you won't dare strike me face to face. I know who you are andwhat you are!"

  By this time Sir John Malyoe had ceased to endeavor to strike him, butstood stock-still, his great bulging eyes staring as though they wouldpop out of his head.

  "What's all this?" cries Captain Manly, bustling up to them with Mr.Freesden. "What does all this mean?"

  But, as I have said, our hero was too far gone now to contain himselfuntil all that he had to say was out.

  "The damned villain insulted me and insulted the young lady," he criedout, panting in the extremity of his passion, "and then he threatenedto strike me with his cane. But I know who he is and what he is. I knowwhat he's got in his cabin in those two trunks, and where he foundit, and whom it belongs to. He found it on the shores of the Rio CobraRiver, and I have only to open my mouth and tell what I know about it."

  At this Captain Manly clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder and fellto shaking him so that he could scarcely stand, calling out to him thewhile to be silent. "What do you mean?" he cried. "An officer of thisship to quarrel with a passenger of mine! Go straight to your cabin, andstay there till I give you leave to come out again."

  At this Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself and into hiswits 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 Manly, very sternly. "Go to yourcabin, 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 ofhow 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 theblindness of his frenzy, had he s
een when she had gone nor whither shewent. As for Sir John Malyoe, he stood in the light of a lantern, hisface gone as white as ashes, and I do believe if a look could kill, thedreadful malevolent stare he fixed upon Barnaby True would have slainhim where he stood.

  After Captain Manly had so shaken some wits into poor Barnaby he,unhappy wretch, went to his cabin, as he was bidden to do, and there,shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down, all dressedas he was, upon his berth, yielded himself over to the profoundestpassion of humiliation and despair.

  There he lay for I know not how long, staring into the darkness, untilby and by, in spite of his suffering and his despair, he dozed off intoa loose sleep, that was more like waking than sleep, being possessedcontinually by the most vivid and distasteful dreams, from which hewould awaken only to doze off and to dream again.

  It was from the midst of one of these extravagant dreams that he wassuddenly aroused by the noise of a pistol shot, and then the noise ofanother and another, and then a great bump and a grinding jar, and thenthe sound of many footsteps running across the deck and down into thegreat cabin. Then came a tremendous uproar of voices in the great cabin,the struggling as of men's bodies being tossed about, striking violentlyagainst the partitions and bulkheads. At the same instant arose ascreaming of women's voices, and one voice, and that Sir John Malyoe's,crying out as in the greatest extremity: "You villains! You damnedvillains!" and with the sudden detonation of a pistol fired into theclose space of the great cabin.

  Barnaby was out in the middle of his cabin in a moment, and taking onlytime enough to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head ofhis berth, flung out into the great cabin, to find it as black as night,the lantern slung there having been either blown out or dashed out intodarkness. The prodigiously dark space was full of uproar, the hubbuband confusion pierced through and through by that keen sound of women'svoices screaming, one in the cabin and the other in the stateroombeyond. Almost immediately Barnaby pitched headlong over two or threestruggling men scuffling together upon the deck, falling with a greatclatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almostimmediately.

  What all the uproar meant he could not tell, but he presently heardCaptain Manly's voice from somewhere suddenly calling out, "You bloodypirate, would you choke me to death?" wherewith some notion of what hadhappened came to him like a dash, and that they had been attacked in thenight by pirates.

  Looking toward the companionway, he saw, outlined against the darknessof the night without, the blacker form of a man's figure, standing stilland motionless as a statue in the midst of all this hubbub, and so bysome instinct he knew in a moment that that must be the master makerof all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, hecovered the bosom of that shadowy figure pointblank, as he thought, withhis pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger.

  In the flash of red light, and in the instant stunning report of thepistol shot, Barnaby saw, as stamped upon the blackness, a broad, flatface with fishy eyes, a lean, bony forehead with what appeared to bea great blotch of blood upon the side, a cocked hat trimmed with goldlace, 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 Malyoe called out, in a great loud voice:"My God! 'Tis William Brand!" Therewith came the sound of some onefalling heavily down.

  The next moment, Barnaby's sight coming back to him again in thedarkness, he beheld that dark and motionless figure still standingexactly where it had stood before, and so knew either that he had missedit or else that it was of so supernatural a sort that a leaden bulletmight do it no harm. Though if it was indeed an apparition that Barnabybeheld in that moment, there is this to say, that he saw it as plain asever he saw a living man in all of his life.

  This was the last our hero knew, for the next moment somebody--whetherby accident or design he never knew--struck him such a terrible violentblow upon the side of the head that he saw forty thousand stars flashbefore his eyeballs, and then, with a great humming in his head, swooneddead away.

  When Barnaby True came back to his senses again it was to find himselfbeing cared for with great skill and nicety, his head bathed with coldwater, and a bandage being bound about it as carefully as though achirurgeon was attending to him.

  He could not immediately recall what had happened to him, nor until hehad opened his eyes to find himself in a strange cabin, extremely wellfitted and painted with white and gold, the light of a lantern shiningin his eyes, together with the gray of the early daylight through thedead-eye. Two men were bending over him--one, a negro in a stripedshirt, with a yellow handkerchief around his head and silver earrings inhis ears; the other, a white man, clad in a strange outlandish dress ofa foreign make, and with great mustachios hanging down, and with goldearrings in his ears.

  It was the latter who was attending to Barnaby's hurt with such extremecare 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 thoughit would split asunder, he shut his eyes again, contriving with greateffort to keep himself from groaning aloud, and wondering as to whatsort of pirates these could be who would first knock a man in the headso terrible a blow as that which he had suffered, and then takesuch care to fetch him back to life again, and to make him easy andcomfortable.

  Nor did he open his eyes again, but lay there gathering his witstogether and wondering thus until the bandage was properly tied abouthis head and sewed together. Then once more he opened his eyes, andlooked up to ask where he was.

  Either they who were attending to him did not choose to reply, or elsethey could not speak English, for they made no answer, excepting bysigns; for the white man, seeing that he was now able to speak, andso was come back into his senses again, nodded his head three or fourtimes, and smiled with a grin of his white teeth, and then pointed, asthough toward a saloon beyond. At the same time the negro held up ourhero's coat and beckoned for him to put it on, so that Barnaby, seeingthat it was required of him to meet some one without, arose, though witha good deal of effort, and permitted the negro to help him on with hiscoat, still feeling mightily dizzy and uncertain upon his legs, his headbeating fit to split, and the vessel rolling and pitching at a greatrate, as though upon a heavy ground swell.

  So, still sick and dizzy, he went out into what was indeed a fine saloonbeyond, painted in white and gilt like the cabin he had just quitted,and fitted in the nicest fashion, a mahogany table, polished verybright, extending the length of the room, and a quantity of bottles,together with glasses of clear crystal, arranged in a hanging rackabove.

  Here at the table a man was sitting with his back to our hero, clad ina rough pea-jacket, and with a red handkerchief tied around his throat,his feet stretched out before him, and he smoking a pipe of tobacco withall the ease and comfort in the world.

  As Barnaby came in he turned round, and, to the profound astonishmentof our hero, presented toward him in the light of the lantern, the dawnshining pretty strong through the skylight, the face of that very manwho had conducted the mysterious expedition that night across KingstonHarbor to the Rio Cobra River.

  This man looked steadily at Barnaby True for a moment or two, andthen burst out laughing; and, indeed, Barnaby, standing there with thebandage about his head, must have looked a very droll picture of thatastonishment he felt so profoundly at finding who was this pirate intowhose hands he had fallen.

  "Well," says the other, "and so you be up at last, and no great harmdone, I'll be bound. And how does your head feel by now, my youngmaster?"

  To this Barnaby made no reply, but, what with wonder and the dizzinessof his head, seated himself at the table over against the speaker,who pushed a bottle of rum toward him, together with a glass from theswinging shelf above.

  He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so beganimmediately by saying: "I do suppose you think you were trea
tedmightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were treated illenough--though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more thana child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but thereis this much to say, and of that you may believe me, that nothing wasmeant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all youwill 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," said he, "thatexpedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balkedthat night?"

  "Why, yes," said Barnaby True, "nor am I likely to forget it."

  "And do you remember what I said to that villain, Jack Malyoe, thatnight as his boat went by us?"

  "As to that," said Barnaby True, "I do not know that I can say yes orno, 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 thebetter of us once again, but that next time it would be our turn, evenif William Brand himself had to come back from hell to put the businessthrough."

  "I remember something of the sort," said Barnaby, "now that you speak ofit, 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 onone side, and his eyes half shut. Then, as if satisfied, he suddenlyburst out laughing. "Look hither," said he, "and I'll show yousomething," and therewith, moving to one side, disclosed a couple oftraveling cases or small trunks with brass studs, so exactly like thosethat Sir John Malyoe had fetched aboard at Jamaica that Barnaby, puttingthis and that together, knew that they must be the same.

  Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what those two casescontained, and his suspicions had become a certainty when he saw SirJohn Malyoe struck all white at being threatened about them, and hisface 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 twoeyes beheld when that man lifted the lids of the two cases--the locksthereof having already been forced--and, flinging back first one lid andthen the other, displayed to Barnaby's astonished sight a great treasureof gold and silver! Most of it tied up in leathern bags, to be sure,but many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose andscattered about like so many beans, brimming the cases to the very top.

  Barnaby sat dumb-struck at what he beheld; as to whether he breathedor no, I cannot tell; but this I know, that he sat staring at thatmarvelous treasure like a man in a trance, until, after a few seconds ofthis golden display, the other banged down the lids again and burst outlaughing, whereupon he came back to himself with a jump.

  "Well, and what do you think of that?" said the other. "Is it not enoughfor a man to turn pirate for? But," he continued, "it is not for thesake of showing you this that I have been waiting for you here so longa while, but to tell you that you are not the only passenger aboard, butthat there is another, whom I am to confide to your care and attention,according to orders I have received; so, if you are ready, MasterBarnaby, I'll fetch her in directly." He waited for a moment, as thoughfor Barnaby to speak, but our hero not replying, he arose and, puttingaway the bottle of rum and the glasses, crossed the saloon to a doorlike that from which Barnaby had come a little while before. This heopened, and after a moment's delay and a few words spoken to some onewithin, ushered thence a young lady, who came out very slowly into thesaloon where Barnaby still sat at the table.

  It was Miss Marjorie Malyoe, very white, and looking as though stunnedor bewildered by all that had befallen her.

  Barnaby True could never tell whether the amazing strange voyage thatfollowed was of long or of short duration; whether it occupied threedays or ten days. For conceive, if you choose, two people of fleshand blood moving and living continually in all the circumstances andsurroundings as of a nightmare dream, yet they two so happy togetherthat all the universe beside was of no moment to them! How was anyoneto tell whether in such circumstances any time appeared to be long orshort? Does a dream appear to be long or to be 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 intheir appearance that Barnaby had ever beheld--some white, some yellow,some black, and all tricked out with gay colors, and gold earringsin their ears, and some with great long mustachios, and others withhandkerchiefs tied around their heads, and all talking a languagetogether of which Barnaby True could understand not a single word, butwhich might have been Portuguese from one or two phrases he caught. Nordid this strange, mysterious crew, of God knows what sort of men, seemto pay any attention whatever to Barnaby or to the young lady. Theymight now and then have looked at him and her out of the corners oftheir yellow eyes, but that was all; otherwise they were indeed likethe creatures of a nightmare dream. Only he who was the captain ofthis outlandish crew would maybe speak to Barnaby a few words as to theweather or what not when he would come down into the saloon to mix aglass of grog or to light a pipe of tobacco, and then to go on deckagain about his business. Otherwise our hero and the young lady wereleft to themselves, to do as they pleased, with no one to interfere withthem.

  As for her, she at no time showed any great sign of terror or of fear,only for a little while was singularly numb and quiet, as though dazedwith what had happened to her. Indeed, methinks that wild beast, hergrandfather, had so crushed her spirit by his tyranny and his violencethat nothing that happened to her might seem sharp and keen, as it doesto others of an ordinary sort.

  But this was only at first, for afterward her face began to growsingularly clear, as with a white light, and she would sit quite still,permitting Barnaby to gaze, I know not how long, into her eyes, her faceso transfigured and her lips smiling, and they, as it were, neitherof them breathing, but hearing, as in another far-distant place, theoutlandish jargon of the crew talking together in the warm, brightsunlight, or the sound of creaking block and tackle as they hauled uponthe sheets.

  Is it, then, any wonder that Barnaby True could never remember whethersuch a voyage as this was long or short?

  It was as though they might have sailed so upon that wonderful voyageforever. You may guess how amazed was Barnaby True when, coming upondeck one morning, he found the brigantine riding upon an even keel,at anchor off Staten Island, a small village on the shore, and thewell-known roofs and chimneys of New York town in plain sight across thewater.

  'Twas the last place in the world he had expected to see.

  And, indeed, it did seem strange to lie there alongside Staten Islandall that day, with New York town so nigh at hand and yet so impossibleto reach. For whether he desired to escape or no, Barnaby True could notbut observe that both he and the young lady were so closely watched thatthey might as well have been prisoners, tied hand and foot and laid inthe hold, so far as any hope of getting away was concerned.

  All that day there was a deal of mysterious coming and going aboardthe brigantine, and in the afternoon a sailboat went up to the town,carrying the captain, and a great load covered over with a tarpaulin inthe stern. What was so taken up to the town Barnaby did not then guess,but the boat did not return again till about sundown.

  For the sun was just dropping below the water when the captain cameaboard once more and, finding Barnaby on deck, bade him come down intothe saloon, where they found the young lady sitting, the broad light ofthe evening shining in through the skylight, and making it all prettybright within.

  The captain commanded Barnaby to be seated, for he had something ofmoment to say to him; whereupon, as soon as Barnaby had taken hisplace alongside the young lady, he began very seriously, with a prefacesomewhat thus: "Though you may think me the captain of this brigantine,young gentleman, I am not really so, but am under orders, and so haveonly carried out those orders of a superior in all these things that Ihave done." Having so begun, he went on to say that there was one thingyet remaining for him to do, and that the greatest thing of all. He said
that Barnaby and the young lady had not been fetched away from the BelleHelen as they were by any mere chance of accident, but that 'twas all aplan laid by a head wiser than his, and carried out by one whom he mustobey in all things. He said that he hoped that both Barnaby and theyoung lady would perform willingly what they would be now called uponto do, but that whether they did it willingly or no, they must, for thatthose were the orders of one who was not to be disobeyed.

  You may guess how our hero held his breath at all this; but whatevermight have been his expectations, the very wildest of them all did notreach to that which was demanded of him. "My orders are these," said theother, continuing: "I am to take you and the young lady ashore, and tosee that you are married before I quit you; and to that end a verygood, decent, honest minister who lives ashore yonder in the village waschosen and hath been spoken to and is now, no doubt, waiting for you tocome. Such are my orders, and this is the last thing I am set to do; sonow I will leave you alone together for five minutes to talk it over,but be quick about it, for whether willing or not, this thing must bedone."

  Thereupon he went away, as he had promised, leaving those two alonetogether, Barnaby like one turned into stone, and the young lady, herface turned away, flaming as red as fire in the fading light.

  Nor can I tell what Barnaby said to her, nor what words he used, butonly, all in a tumult, with neither beginning nor end he told her thatGod knew he loved her, and that with all his heart and soul, and thatthere was nothing in all the world for him but her; but, nevertheless,if she would not have it as had been ordered, and if she were notwilling to marry him as she was bidden to do, he would rather diethan lend himself to forcing her to do such a thing against her will.Nevertheless, he told her she must speak up and tell him yes or no, andthat God knew he would give all the world if she would say "yes."

  All this and more he said in such a tumult of words that there was noorder in their speaking, and she sitting there, her bosom rising andfalling as though her breath stifled her. Nor may I tell what shereplied to him, only this, that she said she would marry him. At this hetook her into his arms and set his lips to hers, his heart all meltingaway in his bosom.

  So presently came the captain back into the saloon again, to findBarnaby sitting there holding her hand, she with her face turned away,and his heart beating like a trip hammer, and so saw that all wassettled as he would have it. Wherewith he wished them both joy, and gaveBarnaby his hand.

  The yawlboat belonging to the brigantine was ready and waiting alongsidewhen they came upon deck, and immediately they descended to it and tooktheir seats. So they landed, and in a little while were walking up thevillage street in the darkness, she clinging to his arm as though shewould swoon, and the captain of the brigantine and two other men fromaboard following after them. And so to the minister's house, finding himwaiting for them, smoking his pipe in the warm evening, and walking upand down in front of his own door. He immediately conducted them intothe house, where, his wife having fetched a candle, and two othersof the village folk being present, the good man having asked severalquestions as to their names and their age and where they were from,the ceremony was performed, and the certificate duly signed by thosepresent--excepting the men who had come ashore from the brigantine, andwho refused to set their hands to any paper.

  The same sailboat that had taken the captain up to the town in theafternoon was waiting for them at the landing place, whence, thecaptain, having wished them Godspeed, and having shaken Barnaby veryheartily by the hand, they pushed off, and, coming about, ran away withthe slant of the wind, dropping the shore and those strange beings alikebehind them into the night.

  As they sped away through the darkness they could hear the creaking ofthe sails being hoisted aboard of the brigantine, and so knew that shewas about to put to sea once more. Nor did Barnaby True ever set eyesupon those beings again, nor did anyone else that I ever heard tell of.

  It was nigh midnight when they made Mr. Hartright's wharf at the foot ofWall Street, and so the streets were all dark and silent and deserted asthey walked up to Barnaby's home.

  You may conceive of the wonder and amazement of Barnaby's dearstepfather when, clad in a dressing gown and carrying a lighted candlein his hand, he unlocked and unbarred the door, and so saw who itwas had aroused him at such an hour of the night, and the young andbeautiful lady whom Barnaby had fetched with him.

  The first thought of the good man was that the Belle Helen had come intoport; nor did Barnaby undeceive him as he led the way into the house,but waited until they were all safe and sound in privily together beforehe should unfold his strange and wonderful story.

  "This was left for you by two foreign sailors this afternoon, Barnaby,"the good old man said, as he led the way through the hall, holding upthe candle at the same time, so that Barnaby might see an object thatstood against the wainscoting by the door of the dining room.

  Nor could Barnaby refrain from crying out with amazement when he sawthat it was one of the two chests of treasure that Sir John Malyoe hadfetched from Jamaica, and which the pirates had taken from the BelleHelen. As for Mr. Hartright, he guessed no more what was in it than theman in the moon.

  The next day but one brought the Belle Helen herself into port, with theterrible news not only of having been attacked at night by pirates, butalso that Sir John Malyoe was dead. For whether it was the sudden shockof the sight of his old captain's face--whom he himself had murderedand thought dead and buried--flashing so out against the darkness, orwhether it was the strain of passion that overset his brains, certainit is that when the pirates left the Belle Helen, carrying with them theyoung lady and Barnaby and the traveling trunks, those left aboardthe Belle Helen found Sir John Malyoe lying in a fit upon the floor,frothing at the mouth and black in the face, as though he had beenchoked, and so took him away to his berth, where, the next morning aboutten o'clock, he died, without once having opened his eyes or spoken asingle word.

  As for the villain manservant, no one ever saw him afterward; thoughwhether he jumped overboard, or whether the pirates who so attacked theship had carried him away bodily, who shall say?

  Mr. Hartright, after he had heard Barnaby's story, had been veryuncertain as to the ownership of the chest of treasure that had beenleft by those men for Barnaby, but the news of the death of Sir JohnMalyoe made the matter very easy for him to decide. For surely if thattreasure did not belong to Barnaby, there could be no doubt that it mustbelong to his wife, she being Sir John Malyoe's legal heir. And so itwas that that great fortune (in actual computation amounting to upwardof sixty-three thousand pounds) came to Barnaby True, the grandson ofthat famous pirate, William Brand; the English estate in Devonshire, indefault of male issue of Sir John Malyoe, descended to Captain Malyoe,whom the young lady was to have married.

  As for the other case of treasure, it was never heard of again, norcould Barnaby ever guess whether it was divided as booty among thepirates, or whether they had carried it away with them to some strangeand foreign land, there to share it among themselves.

  And so the ending of the story, with only this to observe, that whetherthat strange appearance of Captain Brand's face by the light of thepistol was a ghostly and spiritual appearance, or whether he was presentin flesh and blood, there is only to say that he was never heard ofagain; nor had he ever been heard of till that time since the day he wasso shot from behind by Capt. John Malyoe on the banks of the Rio CobraRiver in the year 1733.