ul shipmen.

Before that sable beard came into his field of vision the lad was in
full stride, running like a whippet, chart under one arm, water-jar
under the other. He checked himself to ease the door behind him just as
the truculent captor of the _Royal James_ brig reached the foot of the
ladder and let his gaze rove about the cabin. Sinking to the floor of
the storeroom, Joe was afraid that for once he was about to swoon like a
silly maid at sight of a mouse. As he had truly said, this pirating was
no trade for a nervous man. Never mind, a miss was as good as a mile.
Thankful for the darkness that closed around him, he slung the
water-monkey over his shoulder in its hammock of netted cord, pushed the
side of codfish inside his shirt, poked the chart into his boot-leg, put
the cheese in the sack atop the flour, and was freighted for his journey
through the hold.

This he accomplished after great difficulty and had to whistle and wait
for a response before he could be sure of Jack Cockrell's whereabouts.

"What luck, Joe?" was the plaintive question. "I'd sooner starve than be
left alone in this dungeon."

"Behold the dashing 'prentice-boy with another hairbreadth escape to his
credit," replied the hero. "Be thankful for your dinner 'cause
Blackbeard all but made a mouthful of me."

"You saw him, Joe?"

"Up to the middle of him, and that was a-plenty. Don't ask me. I had a
bad turn."

"I feel sick, too," said Jack. "The smell of this vile bilge-water
breeds a nausea, and, whew, 'tis worse than ever."

"Bilge, my eye! You sniff the banquet I fetched ye. Here's a prime
cheese that was hatched when Trimble Rogers was a pup."

Jack offered a feeble apology and felt revived after a pull at the
water-monkey. What they craved most was a spark of light, the glimmer of
a candle to lift this appalling gloom which pressed down like a visible
burden. With nothing to do but discuss the situation from every slant
and angle of conjecture, it was Joe Hawkridge's theory that Stede Bonnet
would not rest content with regaining the _Revenge_ but would come out
to attack the brig as soon as the wind favored. His hatred of Blackbeard
was one motive but there was a point of honor even more compelling.

"He called you his guest, Jack," explained Joe, "and I never did see a
man so jealous of his plighted word when once he swore it. He took
obligation to set you safe in Charles Town, d'ye see? And powder smoke
won't stop him."

"