entrance to Delaware
Bay. His long rest had restored to him most of his vigor and although he
was sore in many places, he felt perfectly ready to try an escape as
soon as the sloop should approach the land and offer him an
opportunity.

As the night went on the _Royal James_ made good speed up the Bay aided
by a strong tide. A little while before light she came close enough to
the west shore for Job to see the outlines of trees on a bluff. He
figured the distance to be not above a mile at most. There was some
question in his mind whether he should cut the painter and use the boat
in getting away or swim for it. He decided that it would be better for
him in most ways if the pirates still supposed him dead. So, quietly as
an otter, he slipped over the gunwale, paddled away from the boat's side
and set out for the land, ploughing through the water with a long
overarm stroke.

Job had a hard fight with the turning tide before the trees loomed above
his head and his feet scraped gravel under the bank. When at last he
crept gasping out upon dry ground, it was miles to the southward of his
first destination. Dawn had come and the early light silvered the
rippling cross-swells and glinted on the white wings of the gulls. The
big mariner shook the water from his sides like a spaniel, stretched
both long arms to the warm sky, laughed as he thought of his escape and
turning his gaunt face to the northward set out swiftly along the
tree-clad bluffs.

CHAPTER XII

Meanwhile the _Royal James_ was far up inside the Capes, sailing
demurely along, the ports of her gun deck closed and the British colors
fluttering from her top. Jeremy watched the shores they passed with deep
interest. He wondered if there would be a chance for him to get away
when they came to anchor. There was nothing but hardship in his lot
aboard the sloop, now that Job was gone. He was unnoticed for the most
part by the men of the crew, and when any of them spoke to him it was
with a cuff or a curse. As for Captain Bonnet, he had relapsed into one
of his black moods. Nothing brought him on deck or made him speak except
to give Herriot monosyllabic commands.

Late the following day, after a slow progress along the Delaware shore,
the sloop hove to in a wide roadstead and the anchor was run out. The
steeples and shipping of a little town were visible by the water side,
but no one put off to meet them. To the surprise of all, Bonnet himself
came on deck,