elf on my face, thinking with my outstretched arms to
seize him. He turned his head and saw me. To this day I shudder as
I see again the anguish, the mute imploring entreaty, that spoke
out of his ghastly features.

I could not reach him.

I crawled forward, and my hands began to sink. Joe Punchard behind
was shouting to recall me. Vetch was up to his shoulders. Half my
body was on solid ground, and with a prayer on my lips I was edging
forward inch by inch to make one final effort, when I felt my feet
held fast; I was hauled back with great violence, just as Vetch,
with a scream that rang in my ears and ran through my dreams for
weeks afterwards and haunts me still, disappeared forever.

Chapter 32: I Become Bold.

The flags were at half mast when we sailed into Port Royal Harbor,
with the pirate brig in our wake; and my dark foreboding was
confirmed by the first news we had when we stepped ashore. Admiral
Benbow was dead. Sturdy fighter as he was, he had contended
gallantly for near a month against the fever that ensued upon the
amputation of his leg, but 'twas not Heaven's will that he should
live for further service to his country. In the presence of Death,
the great leveler, all detraction is hushed, all enmities are
extinguished; and even some who had thwarted and criticized the
admiral sincerely deplored his loss. He had won no great victories,
done nothing to dazzle the eyes of men; but I make bold to say
that, in the long roll of England's worthies no name will ever
shine more brilliantly to a seaman's eyes than that of honest John
Benbow.

Rear Admiral Whetstone, to whom the command of the West Indian
squadron fell, was pleased to compliment me on my dealings with the
buccaneers, and appointed me first lieutenant of the British
frigate on which the officers under sentence of the court martial
were to be conveyed to England.

When we sailed out of Port Royal (you may be sure I had Joe
Punchard with me), we acted as convoy to a large merchant brig,
richly laden with produce of the island, and with a freight more
precious to me in the person of Mistress Lucy. She had not waited
for the completion of the business connected with the sale of her
estate, having perfect confidence in the integrity of Mr. McTavish,
who would remit the price to her in due course. From a mercenary
point of view the time was not well chosen for the disposal of her
property, values always diminishing in time of war. But the