e harbor, he
heard a commotion in the street and was about to run out when his
employer came in and explained:

"Two pirates captured,--just as I happened to pass. The knaves landed
from a boat in broad daylight, unaware that Charles Town has mended its
loose habit toward such gentry."

"What will be done with 'em?" quickly asked Joe, with an unhappy
premonition.

"They were recognized as two of Stede Bonnet's old hands that used to
resort to the tavern. Soldiers of the Governor's guard have been sent
for to drag them to the gaol."

Joe hastened out but slackened his pace to lag behind the crowd of
idlers who were jostling the prisoners along with hoots and jeers. Yes,
there was the tall, gaunt frame and gray head of old Trimble Rogers
whose mien was so forbidding and masterful that the mob forbore to
handle him too roughly, unarmed though he was. At his elbow trudged
chubby Bill Saxby, gazing about him with those wide blue eyes in which
was not a trace of guile. Joe realized that for him to intercede would
make matters worse. He was a reformed pirate on probation and was known
to have sailed with Blackbeard himself.

Therefore he darted into another street and sped to find Jack Cockrell,
who chanced to be at home. They rushed into the room where Uncle Peter
Forbes was writing at his desk and informed him that their two staunch
comrades had come ashore to find them and were already in custody and
something must be done to save them from the wrath of Governor Johnson,
who had a mortal distaste for pirates still at large. The Councilor
calmed the perturbation by assuring them:

"I have already spoken to His Excellency in behalf of these two men
should they appear in this port. He was not wholly pleased but promised
clemency should they offer to repent and if I gave surety for the
pledge."

"They will be ready to live as respectable as Joe," impetuously declared
Master Cockrell. "I'll go bail on it. Bill Saxby is a tradesman by
nature and if you will lend him enough money to set himself up as a
linen-draper and haberdasher, Uncle Peter, he can live happily ever
after."

"And old Trimble Rogers has sailed his last cruise under the Jolly
Roger, Councilor," put in Joe Hawkridge. "His timbers are full o' dry
rot and he seeks a safe mooring."

"There seems no end to the bad company you drag me into," quoth Uncle
Peter. "My hat and broadcloth cloak, Jack, and let us fare to the gaol
and see what these awkward visito