k of August, when two men
came into New Castle from different directions, one on horseback, the
other on foot. The first of these was Curtis's overseer, returned from
the larger colony up the Bay, and bringing the good news that a score of
cannon were lying on the dock at the foot of Market Street, in
Philadelphia, ready to be shipped aboard the _Queen_ as soon as she was
put in shape.

The other was a sour-looking man of middle height, lean and darkly
sallow, dressed in good sea clothes somewhat worn. He slipped through
the trees into a lane that led toward the wharves. Coming unobtrusively
into the Red Hawk Tavern at a little after 7 o'clock in the evening, he
asked for a pint of rum, paid for it, and began to talk politely to the
Swede. Job was eating his supper in one corner. He started when the man
entered, but made no exclamation, and shading his face from the light,
continued to watch him narrowly. It was his old shipmate, Bill Curley,
the Jamaican. The pirate finished his rum and giving the barkeep a civil
"Good-night," passed out into the ill-lighted street. When he was gone
Job rose and stepped to the bar. "Quick, Nels," he whispered, "what did
he ask you? He's one of Bonnet's crew!" The Swede replied that he had
inquired the way to Clarke Curtis's house. Job was armed with a good
pistol. He made sure it was primed and then set out up the street,
keeping a careful lookout.

Soon he detected the figure of the Jamaican in the gloom ahead, and
followed it, keeping out of earshot. The man went straight up High
Street to the town residence of the planter. There were tall shrubs in
the yard and he waited behind one of these, apparently reconnoitering.
Then he stooped, took off his shoes, and carrying them in one hand,
advanced and pinned a piece of paper to the door. Turning, he made his
way back to the gate and once on the soft earth of the road, started to
run in the direction from which he had come. This brought him, in fifty
yards, face to face with a pistol muzzle, the butt of which was held by
his old friend, Job Howland. He stopped in his tracks and at the big
Yankee's command held both arms above his head. Job jammed the nose of
his weapon against Curley's breastbone and searched him without a word.
Having removed a long dirk and a pistol from the Jamaican's waistband,
he ordered him to face about and walk back to the planter's house. When
they arrived there, Job took down the paper from the door and knocke