ter Jeremy's capture, and they had
been sighting low bits of land on both bows all day--Dave Herriot came
on deck about the middle of the watch and told Curley, the Jamaican
second mate, he might go below. He set Job to take soundings and,
himself taking the tiller, swung her over to port with the wind abeam.
Jeremy went to the bows where he could see the white line of shore
ahead. They drew in, steering by Job's soundings, and by the time the
watch changed were ready to cast anchor in a small sandy bay. Herriot
came forward, scowling darkly under his bushy eyebrows, and rumbling an
occasional oath to himself. The sloop, her anchor down and sails furled,
swung idly on the tide. The men were clearly mystified as the
sailing-master started to give orders. "George Dunkin," he said, "take
ten men of the starboard watch, and go ashore to forage. There be farms
near here and any pigs or fowls you may come across will be welcome.
You, Bill Livers," addressing the ship's painter, "take a lantern and
your paint-pot and come aft with me. All the rest stay on deck and keep
a double lookout, alow an' aloft!" The forage party slipped quietly off
toward the beach in one of the boats. The remainder of the crew looked
blankly after the retreating Bill Livers.

"Hm," murmured Job, "has Stede Bonnet gone _clean_ crazy?"--and as
Herriot let the painter down over the bulwark at the stern--"Ay, he's
goin' to change her name, by the great Bull Whale!"

An hour before dawn the crew of the long-boat returned, grumbling and
empty-handed. Herriot appeared preoccupied with some weightier matter
and scarcely deigned to notice their failure by swearing. There was no
singing as the anchor was raised. A sort of gloom hung over the whole
ship. As she stole out to sea again, the men, one by one, went aft and
leaned outboard, peering down at the broad, squat stern. Jeremy did
likewise and beheld in new white letters on the black of the hull, the
words _Royal James._ Next day in the fo'c's'le council he learned why
the renaming of the _Revenge_ had cast a pall of apprehension over the
crew. There were low-muttered tales of disaster--of storm, shipwreck,
and fire, and that dread of all sailors--the unknown fate of ships that
never come back to port. Apparently the rule was unfailing. Sooner or
later the ship that had been given a new name would come to grief and
her crew with her. Pharaoh Daggs cast an eye of hatred at Jeremy and
growled that "one Jonah