mbersome and his tousled head was bound around with a wide strip of
the red calico from India. Still and solid he sat, like a heathen idol,
staring in front of him and intent on his mysterious errand. The unseen
spectators in the pirogue scanned also the two seamen at the oars and
felt a vague pity for them. Unmistakably they were sick with fear. It
was conveyed by their dejected aspect, by the tinge of pallor, by the
fixity with which they regarded the cocked pistol in Blackbeard's fist.
Jack Cockrell knew them as abandoned villains who had boasted of many a
bloody deed but the swarthy, pockmarked fellow had been in the boat
which had saved the two lads from the drifting raft. This was enough to
awaken a lively sympathy.

Trimble Rogers gripped Jack's shoulder with a strength which made him
wince and pointed a skinny finger at the boat. The fate of the two
seamen did not trouble him greatly. Those who lived by violence should
rightly expect to die by it. The sea was their gaming table and it was
their ill luck if the dice were cogged. Just then Bill Saxby stifled an
ejaculation. He, too, had discovered the freightage in the cock-boat,
the heavy burden which made it swim so low.

It rested in front of Blackbeard's knees, the top showing above the
curve of the gunwales. It was a sea-chest, uncommonly large, built of
some dark tropical wood and strapped with iron. Old Trimble Rogers'
fierce eyes glittered and he licked his lips. He leaned over to whisper
in Bill Saxby's ear the one word:

"_Treasure!_"

CHAPTER IX

BLACKBEARD'S ERRAND IS INTERRUPTED

BLACKBEARD'S deep-laden boat was rowed on past the pirogue and turned to
follow the channel of the sluggish stream. Bill Saxby thrust aside the
cover of grass and boughs and shoved the log canoe out of the cove. So
crooked was the course of the creek that the boat was already out of
sight and by stealthy paddling it was possible to pursue undetected. Old
Trimble Rogers had forgotten his lust to slay Blackbeard. His gloating
imagination could picture the contents of that massive sea-chest after a
long cruise in southern waters.

It was foolish to attempt to surprise Blackbeard while afloat in the
creek. In a race of it, the handy cock-boat could pull away from the
clumsier pirogue manned by two paddles only, for Trimble Rogers was
needed to steer and be ready with the musket. This was their only
firearm, which Bill Saxby had snatched up during the flight from t