With her head to the wind the pirate vessel Revenge bore down slowly upon the King and Queen, now lying to and awaiting her. The stiff breeze was growing stiffer and the sea was rising. The experienced eye of Paul Bittern, the sailing-master of the pirate, now told him that it would be dangerous to approach the brig near enough to make fast to her, even for the minute which Captain Bonnet craved—the minute which would have been long enough for a couple of sturdy fellows to toss on board the prize that exasperating human indictment, Ben Greenway.
"We cannot do it," shouted Black Paul to Bonnet, "we shall run too near her as it is. Shall we let fly at short range and riddle her hull?"
Captain Bonnet did not immediately answer; the situation puzzled him. He wanted very much to put the Scotchman on board the brig, and after that he did not care what happened. But before he could speak, there appeared on the rail of the King and Queen, holding fast to a shroud, the figure of a young man, who put his hand to his mouth and hailed:
"Throw me a line! Throw me a line!"
Such an extraordinary request at such a time naturally amazed the pirates, and they stood staring, as they crowded along the side of their vessel.
"If you are not going to board her," shouted Dickory again, "throw me a line!"
Filled with curiosity to know what this strange proceeding meant, Black Paul ordered that a line be thrown, and, in a moment, a tall fellow seized a coil of light rope and hurled it through the air in the direction of the brig; but the rope fell short, and the outer end of it disappeared beneath the water. Now the spirit of Black Paul was up. If the fellow on the brig wanted a line he wanted to come aboard, and if he wanted to come aboard, he should do so. So he seized a heavier coil and, swinging it around his head, sent it, with tremendous force, towards Dickory, who made a wild grab at it and caught it.
Although a comparatively light line, it was a long one, and the slack of it was now in the water, so that Dickory had to pull hard upon it before he could grasp enough of it to pass around his body. He had scarcely done this, and had made a knot in it, before a lurch of the brig brought a strain on the rope, and he was incontinently jerked overboard.
The crew of the merchantman, who had not had time to comprehend what the young fellow was about to do, would have grasped him had he remained on the rail a moment longer, but now he was gone into the sea, and, working vigorously with his legs and arms, was endeavouring to keep his head above water while the pirates at the other end of the rope pulled him swiftly towards their vessel.
Great was the excitement on board the Revenge. Why should a man from a merchantman endeavour, alone, to board a vessel which flew the Jolly Roger? Did he wish to join the crew? Had they been ill-treating him on board the brig? Was he a criminal endeavouring to escape from the officers of the law? It was impossible to answer any of these questions, and so the swarthy rascals pulled so hard and so steadily upon the line that the knot in it, which Dickory had not tied properly, became a slipknot, and the poor fellow's breath was nearly squeezed out of him as he was hauled over the rough water. When he reached the vessel's side there was something said about lowering a ladder, but the men who were hauling on the line were in a hurry to satisfy their curiosity, so up came Dickory straight from the water to the rail, and that proceeding so increased the squeezing that the poor fellow fell upon the deck scarcely able to gasp. When the rope was loosened the half-drowned and almost breathless Dickory raised himself and gave two or three deep breaths, but he could not speak, despite the fact that a dozen rough voices were asking him who he was and what he wanted.
With the water pouring from him in streams, and his breath coming from him in puffs, he looked about him with great earnestness.
Suddenly a man rushed through the crowd of pirates and stooped to look at the person who had so strangely come aboard. Then he gave a shout. "It is Dickory Charter," he cried, "Dickory Charter, the son o' old Dame Charter! Ye Dickory! an' how in the name o' all that's blessed did ye come here? Master Bonnet! Master Bonnet!" he shouted to the captain, who now stood by, "it is young Dickory Charter, of Bridgetown. He was on board this vessel before we sailed, wi' Mistress Kate an' me. The last time I saw her he was wi' her."
"What!" exclaimed Bonnet, "with my daughter?"
"Ay, ay!" said Greenway, "it must have been a little before she went on shore."
"Young man!" cried Bonnet, stooping towards Dickory, "when did you last see my daughter? Do you know anything of her?"
The young man opened his mouth, but he could not yet do much in the way of speaking, but he managed to gasp, "I come from her, I am bringing you a message."
"A message from Kate!" shouted Bonnet, now in a state of wild excitement. "Here you, Greenway, lift up the other arm, and we will take him to my cabin. Quick, man! Quick, man! he must have some spirits and dry clothes. Make haste now! A message from my daughter!"
"If that's so," said Greenway, as he and Bonnet hurried the young man aft, "ye'd better no' be in too great haste to get his message out o' him or ye'll kill him wi' pure recklessness."
Bonnet took the advice, and before many minutes Dickory was in dry clothes and feeling the inspiriting influence of a glass of good old rum. Now came Black Paul, wanting to know if he should sink the brig and be done with her, for they couldn't lie by in such weather.
"Don't you fire on that ship!" yelled Bonnet, "don't you dare it! For all I know, my daughter may be on board of her."
At this Dickory shook his head. "No," said he, "she is not on board."
"Then let her go," cried Bonnet, "I have no time to fool with the beggarly hulk. Let her go! I have other business here. And now, sir," addressing Dickory, "what of my daughter? You have got your breath now, tell me quickly! What is your message from her? When did you sail from Bridgetown? Did she expect me to overhaul that brig? How in the name of all the devils could she expect that?"
"Come, come now, Master Bonnet!" exclaimed the Scotchman, "ye are talkin' o' your daughter, the good an' beautiful Mistress Kate, an' no matter whether ye are a pirate or no, ye must keep a guard on your tongue. An' if ye think she knew where to find ye, ye must consider her an angel an' no' to be spoken o' in the same breath as de'ils."
"I didn't sail from Bridgetown," said Dickory, "and your daughter is not there. I come from Jamaica, where she now is, and was bound to Bridgetown to seek news of you, hoping that you had returned there."
"Which, if he had," said Ben, who found it very difficult to keep quiet, "ye would hae been under the necessity o' givin' your message to his bones hangin' in chains."
Bonnet looked savagely at Ben, but he had no time even to curse.
"Jamaica!" he cried, "how did she get there? Tell me quickly, sir—tell me quickly! Do you hear?"
Dickory was now quite recovered and he told his story, not too quickly, and with much attention to details. Even the account of the unusual manner in which he and Kate had disembarked from the pirate vessel was given without curtailment, nor with any attention to the approving grunts of Ben Greenway. When he came to speak of the letter which Mr. Newcombe had written her, and which had thrown her into such despair on account of its shortcomings, Captain Bonnet burst into a fury of execration.
"And she never got my letter?" he cried, "and knew not what had happened to me. It is that wife of mine, that cruel wild-cat! I sent the letter to my house, thinking, of course, it would find my daughter there. For where else should she be?"
"An' a maist extraordinary wise mon ye were to do that," said Ben Greenway, "for ye might hae known, if ye had ever thought o' it at all, that the place where your wife was, was the place where your daughter couldna be, an' ye no' wi' her. If ye had spoke to me about it, it would hae gone to Mr. Newcombe, an' then ye'd hae known that she'd be sure to get it."
At this a slight cloud passed over Dickory's face, and, in spite of the misfortunes which had followed upon the non-delivery of her father's letter, he could not help congratulating himself that it had not been sent to the care of that man Newcombe. He had not had time to formulate the reasons why this proceeding would have been so distasteful to him, but he wanted Martin Newcombe to have nothing to do with the good or bad fortune of Mistress Kate, whose champion he had become and whose father he had found, and to whom he was now talking, face to face.
The three talked for a long time, during which Black Paul had put the vessel about upon her former course, and was sailing swiftly to the north. As Dickory went on, Bonnet ceased to curse, but, over and over, blessed his brother-in-law, as a good man and one of the few worthy to take into his charge the good and beautiful. Stede Bonnet had always been very fond of his daughter, and, now, as it became known to him into what desperate and direful condition his reckless conduct had thrown her, he loved her more and more, and grieved greatly for the troubles he had brought upon her.
"But it'll be all right now," he cried, "she's with her good uncle, who will show her the most gracious kindness, both for her mother's sake and for her own; and I will see to it that she be not too heavy a charge upon him."
"As for ye, Dickory," exclaimed Greenway, "ye're a brave boy an' will yet come to be an' honour to yer mither's declining years an' to the memory o' your father. But how did ye ever come to think o' boardin' this nest o' sea-de'ils, an' at such risk to your life?"
"I did it," said Dickory simply, "because Mistress Kate's father was here, and I was bound to come to him wherever I should find him, for that was my main errand. They told me on the brig that it was Captain Bonnet's ship that was overhauling us, and I vowed that as soon as she boarded us I would seek him out and give him her message; and when I heard that the sea was getting too heavy for you to board us, I determined to come on board if I could get hold of a line."
"Young man," cried Bonnet, rising to his full height and swelling his chest, "I bestow upon you a father's blessing. More than that"—and as he spoke he pulled open a drawer of a small locker—"here's a bag of gold pieces, and when you take my answer you shall have another like it."
But Dickory did not reach out his hand for the money, nor did he say a word.
"Don't be afraid," cried Bonnet. "If you have any religious scruples, I will tell you that this gold I did not get by piracy. It is part of my private fortune, and came as honestly to me as I now give it to you."
But Dickory did not reach out his hand.
Now up spoke Ben Greenway: "Look ye, boy," said he, "as long as there's a chance left o' gettin' honest gold on board this vessel, I pray ye, seize it, an' if ye're afraid o' this gold, thinkin' it may be smeared wi' the blood o' fathers an' the tears o' mithers, I'll tell ye ane thing, an' that is, that Master Bonnet hasna got to be so much o' a pirate that he willna tell the truth. So I'll tak' the money for ye, Dickory, an' I'll keep it till ye're ready to tak' it to your mither; an' I hope that will be soon."
The pirate vessel Revenge was now bound to the coast of the Carolinas and Virginia, and perhaps even farther north, if her wicked fortune should favour her. The growing commerce of the colonies offered great prizes in those days to the piratical cruisers which swarmed up and down the Atlantic coast. To lie over for a time off the coast of Charles Town was Captain Bonnet's immediate object, and to get there as soon as possible was almost a necessity.
The crew of desperate scoundrels whom he had gathered together had discovered that their captain knew nothing of navigation or the management of a ship, and there were many of them who believed that if Black Paul had chosen to turn the vessel's bows to the coast of South America, Bonnet would not have known that they were not sailing northward. Thus they had lost all respect for him, and their conduct was kept within bounds only by the cruel punishments which he inflicted for disobedience or general bad conduct, and which were rendered possible by the dissensions and bad feelings among the men themselves; one clique or faction being always ready to help punish another. Consequently, the landsman pirate would speedily have been tossed overboard and the command given to another, had it not been that the men were not at all united in their opinions as to who that other should be.
There was also another very good reason for Bonnet's continuance in authority; he was a good divider, and, so far, had been a good provider. If he should continue to take prizes, and to give each man under him his fair share of the plunder, the men were likely to stand by him until some good reason came for their changing their minds. So with floggings and irons, on deck and below, and with fair winds filling the sails above, the Revenge kept on her way; and, in spite of the curses and quarrels and threats which polluted the air through which the stout ship sailed, there was always good-natured companionship wherever the captain, Dickory, and Ben Greenway found themselves together. There seemed to be no end to the questions which Bonnet asked about his daughter, and when he had asked them all he began over again, and Dickory made answer, as he had done before.
The young fellow was growing very anxious at this northern voyage, and when he asked questions they always related to the probability of his getting back to Jamaica with news from the father of Mistress Kate Bonnet. The captain encouraged the hopes of an early return, and vowed to Dickory that he would send him to Spanish Town with a letter to his daughter just as soon as an opportunity should show itself.
When the Revenge reached the mouth of Charles Town harbour she stationed herself there, and in four days captured three well-laden merchantmen; two bound outward, and one going in from England.
Thus all went well, and with willing hands to man her yards and a proudly strutting captain on her quarter-deck, the pirate ship renewed her northward course, and spread terror and made prizes even as far as the New England coast; and if Dickory had had any doubts that the late reputable planter of Bridgetown had now become a veritable pirate he had many opportunities of setting himself right. Bonnet seemed to be growing proud of his newly acquired taste for rapacity and cruelty. Merchantmen were recklessly robbed and burned, their crews and passengers, even babes and women, being set on shore in some desolate spot, to perish or survive, the pirate cared not which, and if resistance were offered, bloody massacres or heartless drownings were almost sure to follow, and, as his men coveted spoils and delighted in cruelty, he satisfied them to their heart's content.
"I tell you, Dickory Charter," said he, one day, "when you see my daughter I want you to make her understand that I am a real pirate, and not playing at the business. She's a brave girl, my daughter Kate, and what I do, she would have me do well and not half-heartedly, to make her ashamed of me. And then, there is my brother-in-law, Delaplaine. I don't believe that he had a very high opinion of me when I was a plain farmer and planter, and I want him to think better of me now. A bold, fearless pirate cannot be looked upon with disrespect."
Dickory groaned in his heart that this man was the father of Kate.
Turning southward, rounding the cape of Delaware, the Revenge ran up the bay, seeking some spot where she might take in water, casting anchor before a little town on the coast of New Jersey. Here, while some of the men were taking in water, others of the crew were allowed to go on shore, their captain swearing to them that if they were guilty of any disorder they should suffer for it. "On my vessel," he swore, "I am a pirate, but when I go on shore I am a gentleman, and every one in my service shall behave himself as a gentleman. I beg of you to remember that."
Agreeable to this principle, Captain Bonnet arrayed himself in a fine suit of clothes, and without arms, excepting a genteel sword, and carrying a cane, he landed with Ben Greenway and Dickory, and proceeded to indulge himself in a promenade up the main street of the town.
The citizens of the place, terrified and amazed at this bold conduct of a vessel fearlessly flying a black flag with the skull and bones, could do nothing but await their fate. The women and children, and many of the men, hid themselves in garrets and cellars, and those of the people who were obliged to remain visible trembled and prayed, but Captain Stede Bonnet walked boldly up the right-hand side of the main street waving his cane in the air as he spoke to the people, assuring them that he and his men came on an errand of business, seeking nothing but some fresh water and an opportunity to stretch their legs on solid ground.
"If you have meat and drink," he cried, "bestow it freely upon my men, tired of the unsavoury food on shipboard, and if they transgress the laws of hospitality then I, their captain, shall be your avenger; we want none of your goods or money, having enough in our well-laden vessel to satisfy all your necessities, if ye have them, and to feel it not."
The men strolled along the street, swarmed into the two little taverns, soon making away with their small stores of ale and spirits, and accepting everything eatable offered them by the shivering citizens; but as to violence there was none, for every man of the rascally crew bore enmity against most of the others, and held himself ready for a chance to report a shipmate or to break his head.
Black Paul was a powerful aid in the preservation of order among the disorderly. Conflicts between factions of the crew were greatly feared by him, for the schemes which happy chance had caused to now revolve themselves in his master mind would have been sadly interfered with by want of concord among the men of the Revenge.
Captain Bonnet, followed at a short distance by Dickory and Ben, was interested in everything he saw. A man of intelligence and considerable reading, it pleased him to note the peculiarities of the people of a country which he had never visited. The houses, the shops, and even the attire of the citizens, were novel and well worthy of his observation. He looked over garden walls, he gazed out upon the fields which were visible from the upper end of the street, and when he saw a man who was able to command his speech he asked him questions.
There was a little church, standing back from the thoroughfare, its door wide open, and this was an instant attraction to the pirate captain, who opened the gate of the yard and walked up to it.
"That I should ever again see Master Stede Bonnet goin' into a church was something I didna dream o', Dickory," said Ben Greenway, "it will be a meeracle, an' I doubt if he dares to pass the door wi' his sins an' his plunders on his head."
But Captain Bonnet did pass the door, reverentially removing his hat, if not his crimes, as he entered. In but few ways it resembled the houses of worship to which he had been accustomed in his earlier days, and he gazed eagerly from side to side as he slowly walked up the central aisle. Dickory was about to follow him, but he was suddenly jerked back by the Scotchman, who forcibly drew him away from the door.
"Look ye," whispered Ben, speaking quickly, under great excitement, "look ye, Dickory, Heaven has sent us our chance. He's in there safe an' sound, an' the good angels will keep his mind occupied. I'll quietly close the door an' turn the key, then I'll slip around to the back, an' if there be anither door there, I'll stop it some way, if it be not already locked. Now, Dickory boy, make your heels fly! I noticed, before we got here, that some o' the men were makin' their way to the boats; dash ye amang them, Dickory, an' tell them that the day they've been longin' for, ever since they set foot on the vessel, has now come. Their captain is a prisoner, an' they are free to hurry on board their vessel an' carry awa wi' them a' their vile plunder."
"What!" exclaimed Dickory, speaking so earnestly that the Scotchman pulled him farther away from the church, "do you mean that you would leave Captain Bonnet here by himself, in a foreign town?"
"No' a bit o' it," said Ben, "I'll stay wi' him an' so will you. Now run, Dickory!"
"Ben!" exclaimed the other, "you don't know what you are talking about! Captain Bonnet would be seized and tried as a pirate. His blood would be on your head, Ben!"
"I canna talk about that now," said Ben impatiently, "ye think too much o' the man's body, Dickory, an' I am considerin' his soul."
"And I am considering his daughter," said Dickory fearlessly; "do you suppose I am going to help to have her father hanged?" and with these words he made a movement towards the door.
The eager Scotchman seized him. "Dickory, bethink yoursel'," said he. "I don't want to hang him, I want to save him, body an' soul. We will get him awa' from here after the ship has gone, he will be helpless then, he canna be a pirate a minute longer, an' he will give up an' do what I tell him. We can leave before there is ony talk o' trial or hangin'. Run, Dickory, run! Ye're sinfully losin' time. Think o' his soul, Dickory; it's his only chance!"
With a great jerk Dickory freed himself from the grasp of the Scotchman.
"It is Kate Bonnet I am thinking of!" he exclaimed, and with that he bolted into the church.
The captain was examining the little pulpit.
"Haste ye! haste ye!"
cried Dickory, "your men are all hurrying to the boats, they will leave
you behind if they can; that's what they are after."
Bonnet turned quickly. He took in the situation in a second. With a few bounds he was out of the church, nearly overturning Ben Greenway as he passed him. Without a word he ran down the street, his cane thrown away, and his drawn sword in his hand.
Dickory's warning had not come a minute too soon; one boat full of men was pulling towards the ship, and others were hurrying in the direction of an empty boat which awaited them at the pier. Bonnet, with Dickory close at his heels, ran with a most amazing rapidity, while Greenway followed at a little distance, scarcely able to maintain the speed.
"What means this?" cried Bonnet, now no longer a gentleman, but a savage pirate, and as he spoke he thrust aside two of the men who were about to get into the boat, and jumped in himself. "What means this?" he thundered.
Black Paul answered quietly: "I was getting the men on board," he said, "so as to save time, and I was coming back for you."
Bonnet glared at his sailing-master, but he did not swear at him, he was too useful a man, but in his heart he vowed that he would never trust Paul Bittern again, and that as soon as he could he would get rid of him.
But when he reached the ship, three men out of each boat's crew, selected at random to represent the rest, were tied up and flogged, the blows being well laid on by scoundrels very eager to be brutal, even to their own shipmates.
"Ah! Dickory, Dickory," cried Ben Greenway, as they were sailing down the bay, "ye have loaded your soul wi' sin this day; I fear ye'll never rise from under it. Whatever vile deeds that Major Bonnet may henceforth be guilty o' ye'll be responsible for them a', Dickory, for every ane o' them."
"He's bad enough, Ben," said the other, "and it's many a wicked deed he may do yet, but I am going to carry news of him to his daughter if I can; and what's more, I am not going to stay behind and be hanged, even if it is in such good company as Major Bonnet and you, Ben Greenway."
Whatever should happen on the rest of that voyage; whether the well-intentioned treachery of Ben Greenway, or the secret villainies of the crew, should prevail; whether disaster or success should come to the planter pirate, Dickory Charter resolved in his soul that a message from her father should go to Kate Bonnet, and that he should carry it.
The spirits of Dickory rose very much as the bow of the Revenge was pointed southward. Every mile that the pirate vessel sailed brought him nearer to the delivery of his message—a message which, while it told of her father's wicked career, still told her of his safety and of his steadfast affection for her. Indirectly, the bringing of such a message, and the story of how the bearer brought it, might have another effect, which, although he had no right to expect, was never absent from Dickory's soul. This ardent young lover did not believe in Master Martin Newcombe. He had no good reason for not believing in him, but his want of faith did not depend upon reason. If lovers reasoned too much, it would be a sad world for many of them.
When the Revenge stopped in her progress towards the heavenly Island of Jamaica, or at least that island which was the abode of an angel, and anchored off Charles Town harbour, South Carolina, Dickory fumed and talked impatiently to his friend Ben Greenway. Why a man, even though he were a pirate, and therefore of an avaricious nature, should want more booty, when his vessel was already crowded with valuable goods, he could not imagine.
But Ben Greenway could very easily imagine. "When the spirit o' sin is upon ye," said the Scotchman, "the more an' more wicked ye're likely to be; an' ye must no' forget, Dickory, that every new crime he commits, an' a' the property he steals, an' a' the unfortunate people he maroons, will hae to be answered for by ye, Dickory, when the time comes for ye to stand up an' say what ye hae got to say about your ain sins. If ye had stood by me an' helped to cut him short in his nefarious career, he might now be beginnin' a new life in some small coastin' vessel bound for Barbadoes."
Dickory gave an impatient kick at the mast near which he was standing. "It would have been more likely," said he, "that before this he would have begun a new life on the gallows with you and me alongside of him, and how do you suppose you would have got rid of the sin on your soul when you thought of his orphan daughter in Jamaica?"
"Your thoughts are too much on that daughter," snapped Greenway, "an' no' enough on her father's soul."
"I am tired of her father's soul," said Dickory. "I wonder what new piece of mischief they are going to do here; there are no ships to be robbed?"
Dickory did not know very much, or care very much about the sea and its commerce, and some ships to be robbed soon made their appearance. One was a large merchantman, with a full cargo, and the other was a bark, northward bound, in ballast. The acquisition of the latter vessel put a new idea into Captain Bonnet's head. The Revenge was already overloaded, and he determined to take the bark as a tender to relieve him of a portion of his cargo and to make herself useful in the business of marooning and such troublesome duties.
Being now commander of two vessels, which might in time increase to a little fleet, Captain Bonnet's ideas of his own importance as a terror of the sea increased rapidly. On the Revenge he was more despotic and severe than ever before, while the villain who had been chosen to command the tender, because he had a fair knowledge of navigation, was informed that if he kept the bark more than a mile from the flag-ship, he would be sunk with the vessel and all on board. The loss of the bark and some men would be nothing compared to the maintenance of discipline, quoth the planter pirate.
Bonnet's ambition rose still higher and higher. He was not content with being a relentless pirate, bloody if need be, but he longed for recognition, for a position among his fellow-terrors of the sea, which should be worthy of a truly wicked reputation. A pirate bold, he would consort with pirates bold. So he set sail for the Gulf of Honduras, then a great rendezvous for piratical craft of many nations. If the father of Kate Bonnet had captured and burned a dozen ships, and had forced every sailor and passenger thereupon to walk a plank, he would not have sinned more deeply in the eyes, of Dickory Charter than he did by thus ruthlessly, inhumanly, hard-heartedly, and altogether shamefully ignoring and pitilessly passing by that island on which dwelt an angel, his own daughter.
But Bonnet declared to the young man that it would now be dangerous for him and his ship to approach the harbour of Kingston, generally the resort of British men-of-war, but in the waters of Honduras he could not fail to find some quiet merchant ship by which he could send a message to his daughter. Ay! and in which—and the pirate's eye glistened with parental joy as this thought came into his mind—he might, disguised as a plain gentleman, make a visit to Mistress Kate and to his good brother-in-law, Delaplaine.
So Dickory was now to be satisfied, and even to admit that there might be some good common sense in these remarks of that most uncommon pirate, Captain Bonnet.
So the Revenge, with her tender, sailed southward, through the fair West-Indian waters and by the fair West-Indian isles, to join herself to the piratical fleet generally to be found in the waters of Honduras.
The days were getting very long at Spanish Town, although there were no more hours of sunlight than was usual at the season; and even the optimism of Dame Charter was scarcely able to brighten her own soul, much less that of Kate Bonnet, who had almost forgotten what it was to be optimistic. Poor Mr. Delaplaine, whose life had begun to cheer up wonderfully since the arrival of his niece and her triumphant entry into the society of the town, became more gloomy than he had been since the months which followed the death of his wife. Over and over did he wish that his brother-in-law Bonnet had long since been shut up in some place where his eccentricities could do no harm to his fellow-creatures, especially to his most lovely daughter.
Mistress Kate Bonnet was not a girl to sit quietly under the tremendous strain which bore upon her after the departure of the Badger. How could she be contented or even quiet at any moment, when at that moment that heartless Captain Vince might have his sword raised above the head of her unfortunate father?
"Uncle," she said, "I cannot bear it any longer, I must do something."
"But, my dear," he asked, looking down upon her with infinite affection, "what can you do? We are here upon an immovable island, and your father and Captain Vince are sailing upon the sea, nobody knows where."
"I thought about it all last night," said Kate, "and this is what I will do. I will go to the Governor; I will tell him all about my father. I do not think it will be wrong even to tell him why I think his mind has become unsettled, for if that woman in Bridgetown has behaved wickedly, her wickedness should be known. Then I will ask him to give me written authority to take my father wherever I may find him, and to bring him here, where it shall be decided what shall be done with him; and I am sure the decision will be that he must be treated as a man whose mind is not right, and who should be put somewhere where he can have nothing to do with ships."
This was all quite childish to Mr. Delaplaine, but for Kate's dear sake he treated her scheme seriously.
"But tell me, my dear," said he, "how are you going to find your father, and in what way can you bring him back here with you?"
"The first thing to do," said Kate, "is to hire a ship; I know that my little property will yield me money enough for that. As for bringing him back, that's for me to do. With my arms around his neck he cannot be a pirate captain. And think of it, uncle! If my arms are not soon around his neck, it may be the hangman's rope which will be there. That is, if he is not killed by that revengeful Captain Vince."
Mr. Delaplaine was troubled far more than he had yet been. His sorrowing niece believed that there was something which might be done for her father, but he, her practical uncle, did not believe that anything could be done. And, even if this were possible, he did not wish to do it. If, by some unheard-of miracle, his niece should be enabled to carry out her scheme, she could not go alone, and thoughts of sailing upon the sea, and the dangers from pirates, storms, and wrecks, were very terrible to the quiet merchant. He could not encourage this night-born scheme of his niece.
"But there is one thing I can do," cried Kate, "and I must do it this very day. I must go to the Governor's house, and I pray you, uncle, that you will go with me. I must tell him about my father. I must make him do something which shall keep that Captain Vince from sailing after him and killing him. How I wish I had thought of all this before. But it did not come to me."
It was not half an hour after that when Kate and her uncle entered the grounds of the Governor's mansion.
The Governor of Jamaica was much interested in the visit of Kate Bonnet, whom he saw alone in a room adjoining the public apartments. He had met her two or three times before, and had been forced to admit that the young girls of Barbadoes must be pretty and piquant in an extraordinary degree, and he had not wondered that his friend, Captain Vince, should have spoken of her in such an enthusiastic manner.
But now she was different. Her sorrow had given her dignity and had added to her beauty. She quickly told her tale, and he started upright in his chair as he heard it.
"Do you mean," he exclaimed, "that that pirate, after whom I sent the Badger, is your father? It amazes me! The similarity of names did not strike me; I never imagined any connection between you and the captain of that pirate ship."
"That's what Captain Vince said when I last saw him," remarked Kate.
"It must have astounded him to know it," exclaimed the Governor, "and I wonder, knowing it, that he consented to obey my orders; and had I been in his place I would have preferred to be dismissed from the service rather than to sail after your father and to destroy him. If I had known what I know now, my orders to Captain Vince would have been very different from what they were. I would have told him to capture your father, and to bring him here to me. It cannot be that he is in his right mind!"
Now Kate was weeping; the terrible words "destroy him," and the assurance that if she had thought sooner of appealing to the Governor, much misery, or at least the thought of misery, might have been spared her, so affected her that she could not control herself.
The Governor did not attempt to console her. Her sorrow was natural, and it was her right.
When she looked up again she spoke about what she had come to ask him for; the authority to bring back her father wherever she might find him, and to defend him from the attacks of all persons, whoever they might be, until she reached Jamaica. And then she told him how she would seek for her father on every sea.
The Governor sat and pondered. The father of such a girl should be saved from the terrible fate awaiting him, if the thing could possibly be done. And yet, what a difficult, almost hopeless thing it was to do. To find a pirate, a fierce and bloody pirate, and bring him back unharmed to his daughter's arms and to reasonable restraint.
He spoke earnestly. "What you propose," he said, "you cannot do. It would be impossible for you to find your father; and if you did, no matter who might be with you, and no matter how successful you might be with him, his crew would not let him go. But there is one thing which might be done. The Badger will report at different stations, and her course and present cruising ground might be discovered. Thus I might send a despatch to Captain Vince, ordering him not to harm your father, but to take him prisoner, and to bring him here to be dealt with."
Kate sprang to her feet.
"An order to Captain Vince!" she exclaimed, "an order to withhold his hand from my father? Ah, sir, your goodness is great, this is far more than I had dared to expect! When I last saw Captain Vince he left me in a great rage, but, knowing that he would respect your order, I would dare his rage. If his revengeful hand should be withheld from my father I would fear nothing."
"I beg you to be seated," said the Governor, "and let me assure you, that in offering to send this order to Captain Vince I do not in the least expect you to take it. But there is one thing I do not understand. Why should the captain have left you in a great rage? Perhaps I have not a right to ask this, but it seems to me to have some bearing upon his alacrity in setting forth in pursuit of the Revenge."
"I fear," said Kate, "that this may be true; I do not deem it improper for me to say to you, sir, that Captain Vince made me an offer of marriage, and that in order to induce me to accept it he offered, should he come up with the Revenge, to spare my father and to let him go free, visiting the punishment he was sent to inflict upon the rest of the people in the ship."
"I am surprised," said the Governor, "to hear you say that; such an action would have been direct disobedience to his orders. It would have been disloyalty, which not even the possession of your fair hand could justify. And you refused his offer?"
"That did I," said Kate, her face flushing at the recollection of the unpleasant interview with the captain; "I cared not for him, and even had I, I would not have consented to wed a man who offered me his dishonour as a bribe for doing so. Not even for my father's life would I become the bride of such a one!"
"Well spoken, Mistress Bonnet," exclaimed the Governor, "your heart, though a tender, is a stout one. But this you tell me of Captain Vince is very bad; he is a vindictive man and will have what he wants, even without regard to the means by which he may get it. I am glad to know what you have told me, Mistress Bonnet, and if I had known it betimes I would not have sent, in pursuit of your father, a man whose anger had been excited against his daughter. But now I shall despatch orders to Captain Vince which shall be very exact and peremptory. After he has received them he will not dare to harm your father, and would cause him to be brought here as I command."
"From my heart I thank you, sir," cried Kate, "give me the orders and I will take them, or I will—"
"Nay, nay," said the Governor, "such offices are not for you, but I will give the matter my present attention. On any day a vessel may enter the port with news of the Badger, and on any day a vessel may clear from Kingston, possibly for Bridgetown, where I imagine the Badger will first touch. Rely upon me, my dear young lady, my order shall go to Captain Vince by the very earliest opportunity."
Kate rose and thanked him warmly. "This is much to do, your Excellency, for one poor girl," she said.
"It is but little to do," said the Governor, "and that girl be yourself."
With that he rose, offered Kate his arm, and conducted her to her uncle.
When Mr. Delaplaine was made acquainted with the result of the interview, both his gratitude and surprise were great. He comprehended far better than Kate could the extent of the favour which the Governor had offered to bestow. It was, indeed, extraordinary to commute what was really a sentence of death against a notorious and dangerous pirate for the sake of a beautiful and pleading woman. An ambitious idea shot through the merchant's brain. The Governor was a widower; he had met Kate before. Was there any other lady on the island better fitted to preside over the gubernatorial household? But, although a man of high position could not wed the daughter of a pirate, a pirate, evidently of an unsound mind, could be adjudged demented, as he truly was, and thus the shadow of his crime be lifted from him. This was a great deal to think in a very short time, but the good merchant did it, and the fervour of his thankfulness was greatly increased by his rapid reflections.
As they were on their way home Kate's eyes were bright, and her step lighter than it had been of late. "Now, uncle," said she, "you know we shall not wait for any chance ship which may take the Governor's despatch. We shall engage a swift vessel ourselves, by which the orders may be carried. And, uncle, when that ship sails I must go in her."
"You!" cried Mr. Delaplaine, "you go in search of the Badger and Captain Vince? That can never—"
"But remember, uncle," cried Kate, "it is just as likely that I shall meet my father's ship as any other, and then we can snap our fingers at all orders and all captains. My father shall be brought here and the good Governor will make him safe, and free him, as he best knows how, from the terrible straits into which his disturbed reason has led him."
Her uncle would not darken Kate's bright hopes, ill-founded though he thought them. To look into those sparkling eyes again was a joy of which he would not deprive himself, if he could help it.
"Suppose he should capture our vessel," she exclaimed; "what a grand thing it would be for him, all unknowing, to spring upon our deck and instantly be captured by me. After that, there would be no more pirate's life for him!"
When Dame Charter heard what had happened at the Governor's house and had listened to the recital of Kate's glowing schemes, her eyes did not immediately glisten with joy.
"If you go, Mistress Kate," said she, "in search of your father or that wicked Captain Vince, I go with you, but I cannot go without my Dickory. It is full time to expect his return, although, as he was to depend upon so many chances before he could come back, his absence may, with good reason, continue longer, and I could not have him come back and find his mother gone, no man knows where. For in such a quest, what man could know?"
"Oh, Dickory will be here soon!" cried Kate; "any ship which comes sailing towards the harbour may bring him."
The Governor of Jamaica was a man of great experience, and with a fairly clear insight into the ways of the wicked. When Kate and her uncle had left him and he paced the floor, with the memory of the beautiful eyes of the pirate's daughter as they had been uplifted to his own, he felt assured that he could see rightly into the designs of the unscrupulous Captain Vince. Of what avail would it be for him to kill the father of the girl who had rejected him? It would be an atrocious but temporary triumph scarcely to be considered. But to capture that father; to disregard the laws of the service and the orders of his superiors, which he had already proposed to do; to communicate with Kate and to hold up before her terror-stricken eyes the life of her father, to be ended in horror or enjoyed in peace as she might decide—that would be Vince, as the Governor knew him.
The Governor knew well his man, and those were the designs and intentions of Captain Christopher Vince of his Majesty's corvette the Badger.