square
accounts with that vile traitor that so misused him."

"A sworn friend of mine is Stede Bonnet," proudly declared Jack
Cockrell, "and pledged to bear a hand when I am in distress. He will
land us safe in Charles Town, Joe,--unless,--unless we choose to go
a-piratin' with him in the _Royal James_----"

Jack's voice trailed off in tones of indecision so comical that his
comrade cried:

"Not cured yet, you big numbskull? 'Cause this fine Cap'n Bonnet is a
gentleman pirate? His neck will stretch with the rest of 'em when the
law overtakes him. Thirteen burly lads I saw swinging in a row at
Wapping on the Thames."

"I'll not argue it," sheepishly mumbled Jack. "However, we'll find a
safe deliverance aboard this _Royal James_."

They clung to the swaying raft while the water washed over their knees
and watched the two masts disclose themselves until they fancied they
could not be mistaken. No other brig as powerful as this had been
reported cruising in the waters of Virginia and the Carolinas. By a
stroke of fortune almost incredible they had been saved at the very
brink of death. The brig was steering straight toward them, hauled to
take the wind abeam, and she would be up before sunset.

Shading his eyes with his hand, Joe Hawkridge suddenly uttered a curse
so fierce and wicked that it was enough to freeze the blood. He clutched
Jack's shoulder for support as though shorn of all his strength and
hoarsely gasped:

"Not two masts but three! See it? She lifts high enough to show the
stump of the foremast with head-sails jury rigged. 'Twas the storm made
a brig of her!"

"Then she may be Blackbeard's ship?" faltered Jack, in a whisper.

"Remember when the gale first broke and we parted company?" was the
reply. "The _Revenge_ lost her fore-topmast ere the swine could find
their wits."

"Aye, Joe, but this may be some other vessel."

"She looks most damnably familiar," was the reluctant admission. "A
great press of sail,--it fooled me into thinking her Stede Bonnet's
brig."

Gloomily they waited until the black line of the hull was visible
whenever the raft lifted on the back of a wave. This was enough for Joe.
He recognized the graceful shear of the flush deck which had been
extended fore and aft to make room for a heavier main battery. Even at
a distance, a sailor's eye could read other signs that marked this ship
as the _Revenge_.

"The devil looks after his own," angrily exclaimed Joe. "I'd ha' wager