d with a thicket of sweet bay.

There, no more than a dozen feet beyond, was the captain's cock-boat
from the _Revenge_. Its bow had been pulled out of the water which
deepened from a shelving bank. The boat was deserted but above the
gunwale could be seen the iron-bound lid of the massive sea-chest. Those
in the pirogue desired to behold nothing else. They were suddenly
diverted by a tremendous yell which came booming out of the tall grass
where it waved breast-high on the shore of the stream. A pistol barked
and the ball clipped a straggling lock of Trimble Rogers' gray hair.

Driving his two seamen before him, Blackbeard rushed for his boat as
fast as the bandy legs and clumsy sea-boots could carry him. In fancied
security he had explored the nearest knoll. And now appeared this
infernal canoe, surging full-tilt at his treasure chest.

Things happened _rapido_ enough to glut even an old buccaneer. The
consternation in the pirogue prevented any thought of checking headway
with the paddles. This hollowed cypress log, narrow beamed and solid at
both ends, still moved with a weighty momentum. Its astounded crew were
otherwise occupied. Blackbeard appeared to have the advantage of them.
Jack Cockrell ducked to the bottom of the canoe. Bill Saxby's eyes of
baby blue were big and round as saucers as he wildly flourished his
paddle as the only cudgel at hand.

With a whoop-la, old Trimble Rogers leaped to his feet, the long musket
at his shoulder. Before he could aim at the savage, bushy figure of
Blackbeard, the prow of the pirogue crashed into the side of the
cock-boat, striking it well toward the stern. The ancient freebooter
described a somersault and smote the water with a mighty splash, musket
and all. Blowing like a grampus, he bobbed to the top, clawing the weeds
from his eyes but still clutching the musket. Nobody paid his misfortune
the slightest heed.

The water deepened suddenly, as has been said, where the current had
scoured the bank. With the nose of the little boat pulled well up in the
mud, the stern sloped almost level with the surface of the stream. The
blunt, slanting bow of the pirogue banged into the plank gunwale and
slid over it. The force of the blow dragged the cock-boat to one side
and wrenched it free of the shore. It floated at the end of a tether but
the bow of the canoe pressed the stern under and tipped it until the
water rushed in.

Listed far over, the sea-chest slid a trifle and this