shouting long and loudly for the
Fire-fly and the brave Buccaneer!

Although Jeromio had cunningly despatched several of Dalton's most
approved friends in the long-boat to the shore on some pretended
business, yet others had been secured below; and, when they were
liberated, they created great and noisy jubilee at what they jestingly
called "the Restoration." Springall had orders to distribute among them,
and without distinction, abundance of rum, while Dalton retired to his
cabin, still unmoved, to pen some despatches, which he deemed necessary
to send to the main land that night.

When he returned on deck, the revellers had retired, and the watch was
set. Many of the stars that had witnessed the events we have recorded
had sunk, and others had risen in their stead. The midnight air was
chill and cold; Jeromio's body lay where it had fallen, stiffening in
its gore; for no one cared to meddle with it till the Skipper's pleasure
was known as to how it was to be disposed of. Dalton gazed upon it but
for an instant, and then ordered that a man named Mudy, the black, and
butcher of the ship, should attend him.

"Here, Mudy," he exclaimed, "chop me off that rascal's head--quick, do
it!" The brute carelessly performed his task. "Now roll the carcass in a
sail, and, being well leaded, throw it overboard. Wrap me the head in a
clean napkin; I would fain make a present to Sir Willmott Burrell--a
wedding present he may think it, if he will. The head to which he
trusted will serve the purpose well. I will not send you, Springall, on
this errand," he continued, laying his hand gently on the shoulder of
the trembling boy, who sickened at the disgusting sight. "Go to your
hammock; you shall not sleep there many nights more. You are too good
for such a life as this!"

He then directed two of his men to row to land, and leave the parcel at
the gate of Cecil Place. He also gave them other packets to deliver,
with orders to those of his crew who were still on shore; and then, his
ship being under sail for another division of the coast, like a mighty
but perturbed spirit, he paced the deck till morning.

CHAPTER VII.

I am not prone to weeping as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew
Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have
That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns
Worse than tears drown.

SHAKSPEARE.

It is curious to note how differently persons known to each other, and,
i