e two flotillas had gone wide enough in passing to escape
mutual discovery. In a way it was a pirates' comedy but there were two
spectators who foresaw a personal tragedy. They fled for the cabin and
scuttled through a small door in a bulkhead which admitted them to the
dark hold of the ship.

It was their purpose to hide in the remotest nook that could be found.
Falling over odds and ends of cargo they burrowed like rats and stowed
themselves behind a tier of mahogany logs which had been taken out of
some prize or other. They were in the bottom of the ship, upon the rough
floor covering the stone ballast. Then these frightened stowaways found
respite to confer in tremulous whispers.

"This is the very dreadfulest fix of all, Joe. I had a fair look at
Blackbeard himself, in the stern of the boat,--red ribbons in his
whiskers, and his sash stuck full of pistols."

"That old rip isn't an easy man to mistake, Jack. Now the fat _is_ in
the fire," replied the Hawkridge lad who, for once, appeared
discouraged. "Cap'n Bonnet is a vast sight happier than us. He gets the
_Revenge_ without strikin' a blow."

"But Blackbeard gets _us_," wailed Master Cockrell. "And I helped to
chase him through the swamp after we rammed the pirogue into his wherry
and capsized the treasure chest. Do you suppose he knew me just now?"

"Those little red eyes of his are passing keen. But didn't ye tell me of
smearing your face with mud that day to fend off the mosquitoes? It may
ha' disguised you."

"A little comfort in that, Joe, but to be found in Stede Bonnet's brig
bodes ill enough. Of a truth we be born to trouble as the sparks fly
upward ever since we joined the pirates. What is your advice?"

"To stay hid below and pray God for another shift o' fortune," piously
answered Joe. "There is no fear of Blackbeard's rummagin' the hold at
present. He must decide if he'll fight the _Revenge_ or give her the
slip. And whilst him and his men are busied on deck, I can make bold to
search for stores fit to eat. Cap'n Bonnet allus had a well-found ship.
Blast it, Jack, my hearty, stock us up and we could lie tucked in the
forepeak for a month o' Sundays."

"But the rats and the darkness and the stinks, and to be expecting
discovery," was Jack's dreary comment.

"It would ha' looked like a parlor to me when I was on that barren cay
and sighted Ned Rackham's rogues coming off from the snow," said the
other stowaway. He was beginning to recuperate fr