t kind, he, the pirate
captain, was robbed of the one for whom he would have died, while she
became disgraced and ruined. Then his passion burned to white heat,
and revenge was his one object. He did not rest until he had killed
his rival, after which he was obliged to fly. Others who had been
engaged with him in the fray left with him, and formed themselves into
a band, which gradually grew until they became what they were.

I shall never forget the terrible intensity with which he told his
story; how at one time his eyeballs were red as fire, and at another
his hands trembled with passion; and again, when he told of the beauty
of his betrothed, how his voice became gentle, and his eye became
moist. In spite of everything I could not help sympathising with him,
and, afterwards, when he spoke of his buccaneering career and
remembered what led him to it I did not wonder.

Need I tell how, little by little, I fell in with the captain's
proposals and vowed allegiance to him? I can scarcely realise what
happened now; it seems but as a half-forgotten dream; though real
enough then. In those days my better nature was dead, or nearly so. I
had allowed one passion to conquer me, and it had poisoned my whole
being. I had learnt the meaning of the words of Scripture: "For
whosoever shall keep the whole law and yet offend in one point, he is
guilty of all." This is more than mere words; it is a principle of
life. One passion corrupts the whole being, degrades the whole man,
and thus I, because I entertained hate for my brother, lost my finer
nature and joined a crew of pirates.

I will not portray the life we led; how by sheer brute force and will
power I fought my way up until I was next in power to the captain
himself. I could fill a volume in narrating the battles we fought and
the hair-breadth escapes we had, but whoever reads these lines must
imagine for themselves how we dreaded being taken, and how we vowed a
terrible vow to die the most awful death rather than be conquered by
any vessel, of whatever nationality. Truly it was a wild life, full of
danger and peril; and yet I was happier in it than I had been for
years. There was freedom on the wide seas, there were interest and
excitement in our constant frays. The life suited my uncouth, rugged
nature, and thus for two years I almost forgot my past and lived only
in the excitement of the present.

I had been ten years away from home, ten years without ever