give
you another."

Mr. Delaplaine replied courteously and gratefully, and by the next boat
he went back to the Restless. Captain Ichabod, his brow still clouded by
the approaching separation, walked over to Lucilla and continued his
conversation with her about the island of Barbadoes, a subject of which
he knew very little and she nothing.

When Kate returned to the deck she found Dickory alone, Dame Charter
having gone to talk to the cook about the wonderful things which had
happened, of which she knew very little and he nothing at all.

"Dickory," said Kate, "I want to talk to you, and that quickly. I have
heard nothing of what has happened to you. How did you get possession of
the letter you brought me, and what do you know of Captain Vince?"

"I can tell you nothing," he said, without looking at her, "until you
tell me what I ought to know about Captain Vince." And as he said this
he could not help wondering in his heart that there were no signs of
grief about her.

"Ought to know?" she repeated, regarding him earnestly. "Well, you and I
have been always good friends, and I will tell you." And then she told
him the story of the captain of the Badger; of his love-making and of
his commission to sail upon the sea and destroy the pirate ship Revenge,
and all on board of her.

"And now," she said, as she concluded, "I think it would be well for you
to read this letter." And she handed him the missive he had carried so
long and with such pain. He read the bold, uneven lines, and then he
turned and looked upon her, his face shining like the morning sky.

"Then you have never loved him?" he gasped.

"Why should I?" said Kate.

In spite of the fact that there were a great many people on board that
pirate sloop who might see him; in spite of the fact that there were
people in boats plying upon the water who might notice his actions,
Dickory fell upon his knees before Kate, and, seizing her hand, he
pressed it to his lips.

"Why should I?" said Kate, quietly drawing her hand from him, "for I
have a devoted lover already--Master Martin Newcombe, of Barbadoes."

Dickory, repulsed, rose to his feet, but his face did not lose its glow.
He had heard so much about Martin Newcombe that he had ceased to mind
him.

"To think of it!" he cried, "to think how I stood and watched him
fight; how I admired and marvelled at his wonderful strength and skill,
his fine figure, and his flashing eye! How my soul went out to him, h