e largest shelter and
presently a big-bodied, middle-aged man strode out, his mien stern and
dignified, his rank denoted by the elaborate fringed tunic of buckskin
and the head-dress of heron plumes. He shouted something in a sonorous
voice. The hunting party hastened forward, dragging the two English lads
by the elbows and flinging them down at the feet of the chief. He stood
with arms folded across his chest, scowling, formidable.

Then he spoke a few words of broken English, to the astonishment of the
captives. He mentioned the names of settlements on the Cape Fear River
where, it was inferred, he had been on friendly terms with the
colonists. His manner was not so much hostile as questioning. In Charles
Town both Joe and Jack had learned the common phrases of the Indian
tongue such as were used among the merchants and traders. Pieced out
with signs and gestures, they were able to carry on a halting dialogue
with the chief of this small band.

They were able to comprehend that he hated pirates above all other men.
He recognized the name of Blackbeard and indicated his great joy that
this eminent scoundrel had met his just deserts. Many times the
freebooters of the coast had hunted and slain the Indians for wanton
sport. And perhaps the word had sped of that expedition of Captain Stede
Bonnet out of Charles Town when he had exterminated the Yemassees who
had set out to harry and burn the near-by plantations. The two uneasy
lads felt that they still stood in the shadow of death unless they could
persuade the chief that they were not pirates, that they were in no way
to be confused with the crew of blackguards which had ascended the creek
in the pinnace.

The chief delayed his judgment. Two young men lifted the huge kettle
from the fire. It was steaming with a savory smell of stewed meat. The
captives were invited to join the others in spearing bits of venison
with sharpened sticks. Chewing lustily, with a noble appetite, Joe
Hawkridge confided:

"My spirits rise, Jack. An empty belly always did make a coward of me.
How now, my lusty cockerel? Shall we flap our wings and crow?"

"Crow we must, or have our necks wrung as pirates," said Jack, gnawing a
bone. "Which one of us shall make the first oration?"

"The nephew of the Councilor, of course," cried Joe, "with his cargo of
Greek and Latin education. Make a power of noise, Jack."

And now indeed did young Master Cockrell prove that all those drudging
hours with