e.

Dickory Charter was in much worse case than Ben Greenway. He was not
much of a geographical scholar, but he knew that the Gulf of Honduras
was not really very far from the Island of Jamaica, where dwelt, waited,
and watched Mistress Kate Bonnet and his mother. If he had known that
during the voyage down from the Atlantic coast the Revenge had sailed
through the Windward Passage, running in some of her long tacks within
less than a day's sail of Jamaica, he would have chafed, fumed, and
fretted even more than he did now.

"Captain Bonnet," he cried, "if you could but let me go on shore, I
might surely find some vessel bound to Kingston, or to any place upon
the Island of Jamaica, from which spot I could make my way on foot, even
if it were on the opposite end. Thus I could take messages and letters
from you to your daughter and Mr. Delaplaine, and ease the minds both of
them and my mother, all of whom must now be in most doleful plight, not
knowing anything about you or hearing anything from me, and this for so
long a time; then you could remain here with no feelings of haste until
you had disposed of your cargoes and had finished your business."

Captain Bonnet stood loftily with a smile of benignity upon his face.
"It is a clever plan," said he, "and you are a good fellow, Dickory, but
your scheme, though well intentioned, is unsound. I have too much regard
for you to trust you in any vessel sailing from Belize to Kingston,
where there are often naval vessels. Going from this port, you would be
as likely to be strung up to the yard-arm as to be allowed to go ashore.
Be patient then, my good fellow; when my affairs are settled here, the
Revenge may run up to the coast of Jamaica, where you may be put off at
some quiet spot, and all may happen as you have planned, my good
Dickory. Even now I am writing a letter, hoping for some such
opportunity of sending it to my daughter."

Dickory sighed in despair. It might take a month or more before Kate's
father could settle his affairs, and how long, how long it had been
since his soul had been reaching itself out towards Kate and his mother!

When the sailing-master set out in the long-boat, crowded with men, he
stopped at the bark but did not go too near for fear that some of the
crew might jump into his already overloaded boat.

"You are to run up this rag," cried Black Paul to Clip, the fellow in
command; and so saying, he handed up the old Jolly Roger on the blade o