ver, not lead. Prepare yourselves with silver, I say."

"Nay, captain, the Laird ordered us not to return without powder and
ball. See, here is the price. It may be the taking of the bloody pirate,
if you let us have what we want."

"Well, pass 'em over a keg," said Paul, laughing, but modifying his
order by a sly whisper to Israel: "Oh, put up your price, it's a gift to
ye."

"But ball, captain; what's the use of powder without ball?" roared one
of the fellows from the boat's bow, as the keg was lowered in. "We want
ball."

"Bless my soul, you bawl loud enough as it is. Away with ye, with what
you have. Look to your keg, and hark ye, if ye catch that villain, Paul
Jones, give him no quarter."

"But, captain, here," shouted one of the boatmen, "there's a mistake.
This is a keg of pickles, not powder. Look," and poking into the
bung-hole, he dragged out a green cucumber dripping with brine. "Take
this back, and give us the powder."

"Pooh," said Paul, "the powder is at the bottom, pickled powder, best
way to keep it. Away with ye, now, and after that bloody embezzler, Paul
Jones."

This was Sunday. The ships held on. During the afternoon, a long tack
of the Richard brought her close towards the shores of Fife, near the
thriving little port of Kirkaldy.

"There's a great crowd on the beach. Captain Paul," said Israel, looking
through his glass. "There seems to be an old woman standing on a
fish-barrel there, a sort of selling things at auction to the people,
but I can't be certain yet."

"Let me see," said Paul, taking the glass as they came nigher. "Sure
enough, it's an old lady--an old quack-doctress, seems to me, in a black
gown, too. I must hail her."

Ordering the ship to be kept on towards the port, he shortened sail
within easy distance, so as to glide slowly by, and seizing the trumpet,
thus spoke:

"Old lady, ahoy! What are you talking about? What's your text?"

"The righteous shall rejoice when he seeth the vengeance. He shall wash
his feet in the blood of the wicked."

"Ah, what a lack of charity. Now hear mine:--God helpeth them that help
themselves, as Poor Richard says."

"Reprobate pirate, a gale shall yet come to drive thee in wrecks from
our waters."

"The strong wind of your hate fills my sails well. Adieu," waving his
bonnet--"tell us the rest at Leith."

Next morning the ships were almost within cannon-shot of the town. The
men to be landed were in the boats. Israel had the tiller