children on board, or bags of shiners in the lower cabin
stateroom--that he would! And his blessed old second father might take
his davy he, young Binks, would never be caught foul again."

Meanwhile the girlish schooner tripped away far out of sight, and when
the fog lifted and the breeze came to blow it to leeward she was once
more tidily dressed in snowy white, and splashing the water from her
black eyes, as the last rays of the setting sun showed her the Tiger's
Trap in the distance.

"Henri, my boy, put your arms around me again as you did when I lay in
torture on the trestle on that island. Have no fears for me; we shall
meet again. There! now listen to me. Here is a packet which I wish you
to carry to Porto Rico with this letter. The old judge is alive, I
think, to whom this letter is addressed, and it may perhaps soothe his
declining years. I wish to take your little gig, with Banou and Ben
Brown--no more force--and if, as I believe, that villain has returned to
his former haunt, I will fulfill my oath to its very letter. Meanwhile,
so soon as we have shoved off, while the breeze still holds, run down to
the frigate--she is not three leagues off--and you will be in your
yearning parent's arms, and those of the girl you love, before they
sleep. There! I know you will think of me. Farewell!"

CHAPTER L.

ON A BED OF THORNS.

"An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!"

"O Heaven! to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim!"

"Ho, ho!" said Captain Brand, as he stretched out his straight legs in
their canvas casings on the sand of the little cove, "safe and sound,
and not a soul to share this nice supper of that good old man Miguel!

"Ho, ho!" continued he; "here at last! No Babette to cook for me--no
'Centipede'--nothing but that stanch little boat presented me by that
generous fisherman, who, I fear, is drowned by this time. Well, let us
enjoy ourselves! Excellent real snapper this! Sausage rather too much
garlic perhaps; but the brown bread and the aguardiente unexceptionable.
Blaze away, my little fire; your sticks cost me much labor to dig out of
my once comfortable house, but you are better than gunpowder any day.

"Just to think of the years that have passed! That great bank of sand
there over the sheds, nearly as high as the crag, where my brave fellows
once ca