e would fly right away
across the sea to some foreign land, a band of her friends and cronies
after her, and right well did they enjoy themselves,--which was more than
anyone else did who came across them while on their wicked revels.

Madge Figgy's home was in a little cottage in a cove not far from her
ladder and chair, and this cove was a nest of a gang of the worst wreckers
in Cornwall, gathered together by old Madge to help her in her cruel work.
No one can count how many noble vessels they lured on to the rocks of that
dangerous coast, how many bodies they stripped and cast back into the sea
again; while as for the treasure they had divided amongst themselves!--
they had quite enough to live on for the rest of their lives, even if they
never did another stroke of mischief. That, though, was not what they
cared about. They loved wrecking and robbing, and all their evil ways,
and would have been quite miserable if they had had to live quiet,
respectable stay-at-home lives.

Where all were so wicked there were none to shame them into being any
better, and they flaunted their stolen riches as shamelessly as though
they had come by everything honestly. It was quite a common sight to see
the great, clumsy country-women and girls going about their work dressed
in costly silks and velvets, all of the richest character and most
beautiful colouring, digging and ploughing, cooking and scrubbing with
valuable jewellery on their great arms and their coarse red hands,
sparkling gems in their ears, and very likely a tiara that would have made
a queen envious, fastened round their untidy, unbrushed hair.

Of all the crew, though, Madge and her husband were the very worst.
Most of them did abide by the old saying, 'Honour amongst wreckers,' but
not those two. If they could cheat or trick even their friends they would
do so; and did, too, very often.

One particularly stormy day, Madge Figgy sat in her great chair in high
glee. A tempest such as was seldom known, even on that coast, was raging
round her, and close on to the rocks below her was drifting a Portuguese
Indiaman which she had lured in to be dashed to fragments on the terrible
rocks by the boiling, maddened breakers which towered up like mountains,
then broke and fell with all their force on the helpless vessel.

Madge Figgy kicked her heels and clapped her hands with joy as she
watched, for the huge vessel laden with valuables of the costliest kind
was a prize