ith goods of almost every
imaginable description, and even the room back of it contained an
overflow of bales, boxes, and barrels. At a small table near a window
sat the Scotchman and Bonnet, the latter reading from some roughly
written lists descriptions and quantities of goods, the value of each
item being estimated by the canny Scotchman, who set down the figures
upon another list. Presently Bonnet put down his papers and heaved a
heavy sigh, which sigh seemed to harmonize very well with his general
appearance. He carried no longer upon him the countenance of the bold
officer who, in uniform and flowing feather, trod the quarter-deck of
the Revenge, but bore the expression of a man who knew adversity, yet
was not able to humble himself under it. He was bent and borne down,
although not yet broken. Had he been broken he could better have
accommodated himself to his present case. His clothes were those of the
common class of civilian, and there was that about him which indicated
that he cared no more for neatness or good looks.

"Ben Greenway," he said, "this is too much! Now have I reached the depth
in my sorrow at which all my strength leaves me. I cannot read these
lists."

The Scotchman looked up. "Is there no' light enow!" he asked.

"Light!" said Bonnet; "there is no light anywhere; all is murkiness and
gloom. The goods which you have been lately estimating are all my own,
taken from my own ship by that arch traitor and chief devil, Blackbeard.
I have read the names of them to you and I have remembered many of them
and I have not weakened, but now comes a task which is too great for me.
These things which follow were all intended for my daughter Kate. Silks
and satins and cloth of gold, ribbons and fine linen, laces and
ornaments, all these I selected for my dear daughter, and by day and by
night I have thought of her apparelled in fine raiment, more richly
dressed than any lady in Barbadoes. My daughter, my beautiful, my proud
Kate! And now what has it all come to? All these are gone, basely stolen
from me by that Blackbeard."

Ben Greenway looked up. "Wha stole from ye," he said, "what ye had
already stolen from its rightful owners. An' think ye," he continued,
"that your honest daughter Kate would deign to array hersel' in stolen
goods, no matter how rich they might happen to be! An' think ye she
could hold up her head if the good people o' Bridgetown could point at
her an' say, 'Look at the thief's daught