THE ADMIRABLE LADY BIDDY FANE:

HER SURPRISING CURIOUS ADVENTURES IN
STRANGE PARTS & HAPPY DELIVERANCE
FROM PIRATES, BATTLE, CAPTIVITY, & OTHER
TERRORS; TOGETHER WITH DIVERS ROMANTIC
& MOVING ACCIDENTS AS SET FORTH
BY BENET PENGILLY (HER COMPANION
IN MISFORTUNE & JOY), & NOW FIRST DONE
INTO PRINT

BY FRANK BARRETT

NEW YORK:
THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY.

CONTENTS.

[CHAPTER I. I AM TAKEN OUT OF THE PILLORY AND NARROWLY ESCAPE GOING TO THE WHIPPING-POST.]
[CHAPTER II. I AM TAKEN AGAIN BY JACK GEDDES AND OTHERS, AND RESCUED BY RODRIGUES.]
[CHAPTER III. BY A CUNNING STRATAGEM I AM GOT OUT OF JACK GEDDES' HANDS, AND BROUGHT ABOARD THE "SURE HAWK."]
[CHAPTER IV. I COME TO THE CANARIES IN BETTER PLIGHT THAN I STARTED.]
[CHAPTER V. TO MY MORTAL PERIL I OVERHEAR A SORDID SCHEME OF RODRIGUES AND NED PARSONS.]
[CHAPTER VI. I AM NEARLY UNDONE BY MY SHADOW.--NED PARSONS AND RODRIGUES, THEIR ARGUMENT, WITH THE COMPACT THAT FOLLOWED.]
[CHAPTER VII. THE PERPLEXITY OF BEING NEITHER THOROUGH-FACED ROGUE, ARRANT FOOL, NOR HONEST MAN.]
[CHAPTER VIII. WE ARE OVERCOME, AND WITH BARBAROUS TREATMENT SET ASHORE AND LEFT THERE.]
[CHAPTER IX. WE FIND OURSELVES ON A DESERT ISLAND, AND LITTLE COMFORT BESIDES.]
[CHAPTER X. I QUIT THE ISLAND AND MY FRIEND.]
[CHAPTER XI. I AM EXCELLENTLY SERVED BY MY FAMOUS INVENTION, AND COME TO ENGLAND NOT MUCH THE WORSE FOR IT.]
[CHAPTER XII. LADY BIDDY GIVES ME A WORD OF COMFORT.]
[CHAPTER XIII. THE CROSSED HEART.]
[CHAPTER XIV. WE ARE DOGGED BY A BLACK SHIP, TO THE GREAT DISCOMFORT OF OUR COMPANIES.]
[CHAPTER XV. WE FALL INTO SORE DISASTERS OF RAGING TEMPEST AND BLOODY BATTLE.]
[CHAPTER XVI. THE BATTLE ENDED TO OUR COMPLETE DISCOMFITURE.]
[CHAPTER XVII. I AM SHOT OUT OF ONE SHIP AND CRAWL INTO ANOTHER, WITH WHAT ADVANTAGE MAY YET BE SEEN.]
[CHAPTER XVIII. GREATLY PUT TO IT TO KNOW WHAT TO DO, I DO NOTHING.]
[CHAPTER XIX. I MAKE MYSELF KNOWN TO LADY BIDDY, WITH DIVERS OTHER MATTERS.]
[CHAPTER XX. BY GOOD HAP I DISCOVER A FRESH PIECE OF VILLAINY.]
[CHAPTER XXI. I MAKE A VOW TO SLAY MY LADY BIDDY, IF NEEDS BE.]
[CHAPTER XXII. I RECKON TO HAVE MADE ONE ENEMY THE LESS, BUT DO FIND MYSELF MISTAKEN GRIEVOUSLY.]
[CHAPTER XXIII. HOW RODRIGUES GOT AT THE TRUTH, AND A LIE INTO THE BARGAIN.]
[CHAPTER XXIV. LADY BIDDY SORELY PUT TO IT WHETHER TO TELL THE TRUTH OR HOLD HER TONGUE.]
[CHAPTER XXV. LADY BIDDY IS SET ASHORE, BUT LITTLE MERCY THEREIN.]
[CHAPTER XXVI. HOW I GOT AWAY FROM THE VILE PIRATE AND SETTLED TONGA HIS BUSINESS.]
[CHAPTER XXVII. OF OUR FURTHER ESCAPES, AND A STRATAGEM BY WHICH OUR ENEMIES WERE PUT TO GREAT DISCOMFORT.]
[CHAPTER XXVIII. BY MY ARRANT FOLLY I LOSE MY DEAR LADY BIDDY.]
[CHAPTER XXIX. I FIND MY LADY BIDDY, AND WE DESPOIL OUR ENEMIES; WITH OTHER FACETIOUS MATTER.]
[CHAPTER XXX. I FIND MYSELF IN THE PARADISE OF FOOLS.]
[CHAPTER XXXI. WE THINK THE WORST OF OUR TROUBLES ARE OVER; BUT THEY ARE NOT.]
[CHAPTER XXXII. WE ARE ENCOMPASSED WITH BLACKAMOORS, TO OUR GREAT PERIL.]
[CHAPTER XXXIII. WE ARE LIKE TO BE CRUSHED UNDER A HUGE ROCK.]
[CHAPTER XXXIV. IN WHICH PROVIDENCE, NOT TO BE ALWAYS SCOURGING OF US, PROVIDES US WITH GOOD ENTERTAINMENT.]
[CHAPTER XXXV. A SPEEDY END IS BROUGHT TO OUR CIVIL ENTERTAINMENT.]
[CHAPTER XXXVI. WE SET OUT FOR THE INTERIOR, AND I FALL INTO MY JEALOUS HUMOR ONCE MORE.]
[CHAPTER XXXVII. AN EXPLANATION OF THAT CRY I HEARD IN THE NIGHT, WITH OTHER PERTINENT MATTER.]
[CHAPTER XXXVIII. I AM OVERCOME AND CLAPPED UP IN ONE OF THOSE STRONG TOWERS.]
[CHAPTER XXXIX. HOW I WAS LED ON BY PASSION TO CUT A MAN'S THROAT.]
[CHAPTER XL. I FIND AN EXCELLENT FRIEND IN PLACE OF A CRUEL ENEMY.]
[CHAPTER XLI. A DISCOURSE WITH MY NEW-FOUND FRIEND MATTHEW PENNYFARDEN.]
[CHAPTER XLII. WE ARE PURSUED BY DOGS AND PORTUGALS.]
[CHAPTER XLIII. WE LAY OUR HEADS TOGETHER CONCERNING WHAT IS BEST TO BE DONE.]
[CHAPTER XLIV. IN WHICH MATTHEW PLAYS THE BEGGAR AND I THE FOOL.]
[CHAPTER XLV. WE GO FROM VALETTA TO SEEK MY LADY BIDDY ELSEWHERE.]
[CHAPTER XLVI. HOW WE CAME TO THAT PLACE WHICH I CALL THE VALLEY OF DEATH.]
[CHAPTER XLVII. WE GO DOWN INTO THAT VALLEY OF DEATH.]
[CHAPTER XLVIII. A GREAT CHANGE IN OUR FORTUNE, WHEREBY I HEAR THE MOST JOYFUL, PLEASING NEWS HEART COULD DESIRE.]
[CHAPTER XLIX. MY LADY BIDDY AND I MEET AGAIN, TO OUR JOYFUL CONTENTMENT.]
[CHAPTER L. WE TAKE COUNSEL OF THE INGAS AS TO OUR FUTURE, ETC.]
[CHAPTER LI. MATTHEW AND I CONTINUE THE DISCUSSION, BUT WITH SMALL PROFIT.]
[CHAPTER LII. MATTHEW LAYS OUT A SCHEME FOR STAYING FIVE YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS.]
[CHAPTER LIII. MY CONSCIENCE GETS THE BETTER OF DESIRE, AND A BIRD BRINGS GREAT JOY TO MY DEAR LADY.]
[CHAPTER LIV. WE PART COMPANY WITH OUR RIGHT GOOD FRIEND PENNYFARDEN, TO OUR COMMON SORROW.]
[CHAPTER LV. WE GO DOWN THE META, MY DEAR LADY AND I--THE PLEASANTEST JAUNT HEART OF MAN COULD DESIRE.]
[CHAPTER LVI. I AM PUT TO GREAT CONCERN ON ACCOUNT OF A PORTUGAL, WHICH PRESENTLY TAKES THE PRETTIEST TURN IMAGINABLE.]
[CHAPTER LVII. THE RAINY SEASON SETS IN WITH A VENGEANCE, AND WE ARE PUT TO SORRY SHIFT TO KEEP FROM DROWNING.]
[CHAPTER LVIII. WE FIND A HAVEN OF REST IN A WONDROUS LAKE; BUT ARE NIGH BEING SUCKED INTO A WHIRLPOOL.]
[CHAPTER LIX. THE RAINY SEASON COMES TO AN END, BUT BY MY DELAY WE ARE BALKED OF RETURNING INTO THE BARAQUAN.]
[CHAPTER LX. WE TRY ANOTHER MEANS OF ESCAPE, WHEREBY WE ARE AS NEARLY UNDONE AS MAY BE.]
[CHAPTER LXI. I FALL INTO A DISMAL SICKNESS, AND RECOVER THEREOF.]
[CHAPTER LXII. I AM PUT TO GREAT TORMENT BY MY PASSION.]
[CHAPTER LXIII. WE ENTER INTO A CAVERN, THE LIKE OF WHICH NO MAN HAS EVER YET TOLD OF.]
[CHAPTER LXIV. HOW (AMONG OTHER MATTERS), IN SEEKING TO KILL A SNAPPING BOAR, WE FALL UPON AN OLD FRIEND.]
[CHAPTER LXV. WE COME AT LENGTH TO THE MOUTH OF THE ORONOQUE, BUT WITH DISMAL FOREBODINGS.]
[CHAPTER LXVI. TOUCHING THOSE INCIDENTS THAT HAD HAPPENED TO SIR BARTLEMY AS HE LAY AT THE MOUTH OF THE ORONOQUE.]
[CHAPTER LXVII. LADY BIDDY BREAKS HER TROTH, AND WE HEAR FALMOUTH BELLS AGAIN.]

THE ADMIRABLE LADY BIDDY FANE.

CHAPTER I.

I AM TAKEN OUT OF THE PILLORY AND NARROWLY ESCAPE GOING TO THE WHIPPING-POST.

As 'tis the present mode to embellish a history with a portrait of the writer, it will not be amiss if I here at the outset give you some hints by which you may see, as in a frontispiece, the image of that Benet Pengilly who is about to tell you many marvelous things.

What kind of man I am you may better judge when you come to the last page of this history; my business now is to present my image as I was; to which end I would have you picture a man close upon thirty years of age, clad in a jerkin and breeches of leather, six foot and some odd inches in height, gaunt and lean as a famished wolf, fierce visaged, with an unkempt beard of hair, and a shock ragged as a bush, and both as black as any ink; a deep-sunk, bloodshot eye, and a swarthy skin, all besmirched with broken egg, filth and blood. This pretty portraiture you shall frame in the town pillory, which stood over against the church of St. Mary, in the city of Truro, with this very true description writ under the headpiece:

"Benet Pengilly, A Sturdy Rogue."

And now to begin my story, I must tell you that I had stood in this pillory from sunrise, a sport for all the cowards in the town. I say cowards, for surely those who have courage are never cruel to the helpless, and these—the strongest of whom would have fled before me had I been free—had baited me as curs bait a tethered bull, without any kind of mercy, jeering at me, and making me a mark for any beastliness that came to hand, ay, and sharp stones to boot, as the blood from my lips and cheek testified.

There were never less than a couple of score of this rabble about me, hallooing and whooping; for as fast as one left me to go about his business, another took his place. But amongst the constantly changing crowd was one who, seated upon the stone bench where the town porters are wont to rest their loads awhile, never took his eyes off me, nor budged from his place from the time he came hither, which was about ten o'clock, till now, when the sun was past the meridian. He watched me as a surgeon marks the bearing of his subject under the knife; nay, rather 'twas as a fiend might watch the torment of the damned, for a hellish smile crept over his face as some insult more cruel than the rest provoked me to a state of desperation.

This man I had seen before. His name was Rodrigues. 'Twas he who, in the month of March, came into Plymouth, his ship all decked out with ribbons, his crew arrayed in lace and cambric, and every mother's son as drunk as a beggar; 'twas he who had set tubs of sherries on the Hoe, staved in the heads, and in sheer wantonness and drunken folly cast the wine right and left with his joined palms; to say nothing of divers other senseless tricks whereby in something less than two months he had squandered treasure to the value of nigh upon £7000 and left not enough, when his ship was seized, to pay the King's dues. He still wore the remnants and wreck of his former finery—silk stockings, satin trunks, velvet doublet, and a hat with a feather in it; but, lord! so broken, stained, and bedrabbled through his mad frolics that plain homespun had looked rich beside it.

I have heard that this Rodrigues was of gipsy origin, and indeed he looked fierce and brutal enough for that or anything else. He had a short, curling beard. His hair grew low down on his brows, and fell behind his ears in long, wiry ringlets. His eyes were small, but remarkably piercing, and the aspect of his face was very eager and cruel; but that which made his looks most terrible was his teeth, which were pointed sharp, like a wolf's, so that when he displayed them he looked more like a beast of prey than a natural man. This peculiarity, however, was not due to his birth, but was rather brought about, as I learned, through living many years a captive among cannibal savages, whose practice it is to file their teeth after this fashion. In addition to this disfigurement his ears were slit, and he had a long white scar quartered down his tawny cheek; in short, he was as ill-looking and horrid a scoundrel as ever I did see.

'Twas, as I say, high noon, and matters stood thus, when, of a sudden, the clamor of my persecutors was stilled as by enchantment, and the sound of horse with the jingling of harness struck on my ear; and, casting my eye in that direction, I perceived a company of ladies and gentlemen with their servants, all very richly mounted, drawing hither. I took not much heed of them to discern who they were, being callous sick with the pain and insult I had suffered so many hours, until they drew near within a stone's cast to see what sport was forward, when Rodrigues jumping down from his stone bench, and making them a mighty respectful obeisance of his battered hat with its broken feather, my curiosity was pricked, and I once more looked that way. Then my heart sank lower than ever, and I would have been thankful had my face been beat out of all recognition; for foremost among the company was Lady Biddy Fane, and 'twas clear by the anger in her face that she recognized me. Yet, the next moment was I glad, and my heart was lifted up with a savage exultation; for now, thinks I, she will see to what degradation and ruin hath she brought a man of promise by her cruelty.

I do not think there ever was in the whole world a young woman so beautiful as Lady Biddy Fane; nor is there like to be again. Had I not thought so, should I have abandoned myself to despair because of her cruelty? Nay, nor should I have had this history to tell. And yet may there be women as straight and fairly proportioned as she, though none more so; and others with a skin of that rare pale clearness; and others, again, with eyes as large and dark and spirited, with sweet lips lined with snowy teeth, with a perfect nose (shapely as any Greek's) and wavy, nut-brown hair; still, I say, you shall not find another one woman in whom are combined the graces of so many together, with a spirit so lofty, noble, fearless, and faithful as hers. I might discourse of her beauty for many pages, and yet fail, for want of words, to do her justice; but to make an end of this matter briefly, I say, again, she was incomparable.

On her right hand was my uncle, Sir Bartlemy Pengilly, Knight, the same who adventured with Sir Walter Raleigh in the quest for gold upon the Oronoque; and a hale, lusty old man he was, very personable, with shining white hair curled closely over his head, and a well-clipped beard; on her left hand was Sir Harry Smidmore, a young man of good parts, as I must acknowledge, albeit I hated him exceedingly, by reason of his standing in better grace with Lady Biddy Fane than any other of her suitors, and they were as numerous as butterflies over a fair garden on a summer's day. Besides these three were many friends of theirs of very good condition; but they enter not into this history, so enough is said of them.

Now, the rabble, thinking this company was drawn up for amusement, presently began to make sport of me; and one caught up a dead cat, which had served before, and flung it at me, and another a cabbage stump, which had likewise served; and a third, finding nothing handier than a broken pantile, was about to cast that, when Sir Harry Smidmore, with the flat of his sword, fetched him a clap on the arm that made him think better of it. Then Lady Biddy, with scorn and disgust on her countenance, turned away, and the whole company followed her thence, whispering together, and all very grave; for it was known that I was Sir Bartlemy's nephew, and a kinsman of Lady Biddy's, and that I had disgraced them before their friends.

After them went Rodrigues also, at a brisk pace to keep up with the horse. They had not been gone long when there came two of the sheriff's men with a cord to loose me, whereupon, seeing that I was about to be taken from the pillory, the whole rout that were in the square took to their heels as though a tiger were about to be let loose on them; for I was a man of terror for many miles about, and was known as "Ben of the Woods."

The sheriff's men first freed my hands from the boards, and, making fast my arms about me with their cord, they unlocked the headpiece, and then, having given me a draught from a pitcher, for I reeled like one in liquor being taken down, they led me up the High Street to the Dolphin Inn, and so into the great room there, where at a table sat the justice who had condemned me to the pillory, with Sir Bartlemy Pengilly, Sir Harry Smidmore, and some others; and against the wall in the shadow I spied Rodrigues.

Being brought to the end of the table facing this company, the justice made me a discourse, and the gist of his matter was that, out of respect for Sir Bartlemy, he had taken me from the pillory before my time, and would absolve me from further punishment if I would give my word to be of better conduct henceforth and agree to the proposal Sir Bartlemy was about to make.

Then Sir Bartlemy, pushing aside the bottle that stood before him, leaned forward and addressed me thus:

"Ben," says he, "I am heartily ashamed of you, and with the greater reason because you are not ashamed of yourself. Look at me, rogue! Do you see that my eyes are full of tears? 'Tis for shame that you are my nephew that I weep, and not for pity, for I do assure you, sir" (turning to the justice), "I loved this fellow, and not so long since neither; a brave-looking and comely man he was but a year ago; of good parts and great promise, whom I had been proud to call my son; and a brave man he should be by reason that his father endured manfully much hardship in adventuring under Sir Francis Drake, and died beside Sir Richard Grenville fighting those fifteen great galleons of the Spaniard. But what a base, desperate rascal are you" (turning again to me in anger) "to abandon yourself to despair, to yield up everything without a struggle and at the first shot of adversity, bringing dishonor upon your family thus! Had you but yourself to think of, vagabond? Had your father thought only of his own comfort, would he willingly have endured hardship and privation, or sought to face the Spanish guns? 'Twas the honor and glory of his queen he thought of before all; and had you truly loved your cousin, you would have set up her happiness before your own, and done naught to make her blush for so base a subject."

"Ay, surely!" cries the justice, frowning upon me.

"Yet must we not be too hard on the fellow, neither," says Sir Bartlemy, turning again to him; "for 'tis not as if he had forsaken a life of pain for one of pleasure, but quite the contrary; for he was light-hearted and gay before this cruel stroke; and now what creature on the face of this smiling world is more deplorable? And, truly, for a man to abandon himself to a life of such desolation and misery as he passes in the woods, his mind must be unstrung, and all its music turned to discord; and there is naught, I hear, like disappointment in love to unsettle the reason, though nothing of the sort has ever troubled mine; for if one lass frowned I'd quickly find another who'd smile; and I warrant," says he, merrily, with a sly dig at the stout old justice—"I warrant you have often done the same, Master Anthony."

"Let us go to the point, Sir Bartlemy—to the point," said the justice, severely.

"That will I with no more ado. Look you, rascal," says my uncle, thumping the table and bending his brows on me, "you have done little that I should love you, and much to undo the love I bore you; yet will I make an effort to save you from disgrace for your father's sake—and something for your own—for, God knows, you are a wretch as much to be pitied as hated; so here to the point. I am bent upon getting that treasure which lies, as we know full well, beyond the Oronoque, in order that it fall not into the hands of the Spaniard. 'Tis too late for me to make this venture under my own command, though I fain would; but a worthy commander have I found, and under him you shall take service as his lieutenant and second in command, and share the profits of this enterprise in due proportion."

"Wait!" cries the justice; "here surely is a mistake! You cannot intend to place this fellow taken from the pillory next in position to your commander!"

"He is my brother's son," replies Sir Bartlemy, "and I have faith that he will bear himself well when this present distemper of mind shall be blown off by the wholesome sea gales; for the rest, this matter concerns the crew of the ship and the commander. If they are willing, should I object?"

"But are they willing?" asks the justice. "There is the point."

"Here is the ablest man of the crew—one who has sailed with Drake, gone through many perilous adventures, and been himself a master. Hear what he says. Speak up, Rodrigues."

Rodrigues came out of the shadow, and, pointing his finger at me, says he: "That man is worth any ten men of our crew, and such a man a crew needs for master. We want no puppets, but men who can fight and suffer with stiff lips." Then he dropped back into the shadow again.

I was grateful to this man. Hope—that so long had lain dead within me—sprang up to life, and an eager desire for wild adventure seized upon me. And at that moment the door at the end of the room over against the head of the table opened, and Lady Biddy Fane came into the room; then my imagination, already kindled, blazed up with a mad conception of winning untold gold, glory, and honor—all to lay at her feet, with the possibility that she might accept them and me.

But, lord! there was little in her aspect to encourage such a hope, as she stood there erect and scornful, her pretty brows bent in angry scorn as she looked on me, tapping her silk skirt impatiently with her riding-whip. But this did not daunt my spirit, for I knew how sweet those brows were when they unbent, and that her dainty hand was more apt to caress than to strike.

While my heart was aflame with this sudden return of passion, the justice spoke:

"What says the commander? There the point is, I take it."

"Speak up, Sir Harry," says Sir Bartlemy.

"I will have him for my lieutenant as willingly as I would make him my friend," says Sir Harry Smidmore.

Hearing this my heart being filled with feeling rebelled against my reason, for I knew not until that moment who was to be the commander of this expedition.

"Now, Ben," says Sir Bartlemy, "you have the chance to redeem the past—ay, more than that—to make us love you as we never loved you yet. Will you accept the offer freely made by us?"

"What!" says I to myself, "win gold and honors for Smidmore to lay at her feet? Never!" And so I laughed with a brutal scorn and shook my head.

"An obstinate, contumacious rascal," cries Sir Bartlemy, with one of those sea oaths which he was more free to utter than I have been to set down here; "yet," says he, softening in a moment, "must we bear with him by reason of his misfortunes to the utmost limits. I have failed; plead thou for him, dear girl" (turning to Lady Biddy), "or he must go back again to the pillory."

"Ay, with all my heart," says Lady Biddy, advancing; "and, as you love me, sir," bending slightly to the justice, "I do beg you to favor my pleading. Send him not back to the pillory, for sure when that, together with my uncle's gentle, kind persuasion, fails to win him to a decent behavior, 'tis evident that a sharper remedy is needed for his disorder. Prythee, then, dear sir, send him to the whipping-post; there to be soundly whipped."

"Why, so I will," cries the justice cheerfully, clapping his fist on the table; "for I've heard no better suggestion this bout. To the whipping-post he shall go."

"Not alive," I muttered; and then straining with all my might I burst the cords that bound me, and turned to the door; whereupon the sheriff's men threw themselves before me. But one I took by the throat and the other by the shoulder, and swinging them together I flung them against the wall with such force that the oak panels cracked again, and they sank to the ground like things of clay. Then I strode out of the room and thence into the pure air, and no one had the stomach to stay me.

CHAPTER II.

I AM TAKEN AGAIN BY JACK GEDDES AND OTHERS, AND RESCUED BY RODRIGUES.

Sir Bartlemy's house was built upon a hill not far from St. Maw's and looked over Falmouth Haven to Penny-come-quick. His estate was mostly woodlands, and skirting the river Fal extended north beyond Philligh and east as far as Tregony. In the midst of these woods had I lived for many months unmolested, the worthy old knight, with good intent, bidding his foresters let me kill what game I would for my use; and here had I built me a hut as a shelter against the inclemency of the weather, thatching it with broom and sods of turf. But twas a mistaken kindness on his part, for this sufferance only tended to complete that state of savagery into which I was sinking.

From childhood I have loved the woods, and found delight in studying the secrets of nature—the growth of herbs, the places where they may be found; the ways of birds and beasts, and the like; and when my hopes were all cast over, I had fled thither, saying, "Here is a mistress whose smile is not to be wooed in vain!" And, indeed, for a troubled spirit I know no comfort so soothing as the woods after a spring shower, when all is fresh and sweet, and every little blade of grass seems to smile. For the most part my state was that of utter solitude. Many a day I heard no sound but my own footfall, and saw nothing but the still trees. For weeks and weeks I met no human creature; yet I had no inclination to seek a companion. But at times my nature would revolt against this unnatural condition of solitude, and a mad thirst for debauchery would seize me. Then with my bow would I kill a buck, and, selling it to those who were ever ready to buy venison of me at a fourth of its value, I would go into Truro and spend my money in some gross frolic like that which had brought me to the pillory (as I have shown).

And now, having dwelt long enough on my originals, yet not too long, for I would show truly to what degradation may a man bring himself by self-abandonment, I will continue this history without any further digression.

To my hut, then, in the wood did I betake myself after my escape from Truro, refreshing myself on the way with a plunge in the cool river; and being arrived at my home, as I may call it, I went to a hollow oak hard by, which served me as a storehouse, to see if aught was there to satisfy the cravings of my stomach; but finding nothing save a hare which I had hung there before leaving, and which now stank, for I had been absent best part of three days, so that I could not eat it, hungered though I was, I picked up my bow, which also I kept in this place, and, taking a turn in the wood, I had presently the chance to kill a wood-pigeon. Then I built a fire with dry sticks, of which there was no lack at this season, laid my pigeon in the embers, and when it had lain there as long as my patience would endure, I stripped off the skin and feathers, and devoured it, using my fingers for fork and my teeth for knife; and thus having partly quieted my stomach, though I could have eaten half a dozen such small game, but was too tired to seek more, I threw myself on the earth within my hut, and fell asleep at once, nor did any pricking of conscience trouble me in the least.

And here I slept on till about eight o'clock in the evening, as I judge, when an unwonted sound awoke me; for I had contracted the habit of sleeping, as it were, with my ears open. But being mighty heavy with sleep I did no more than sit up and glance stupidly through the opening of my hut. I saw naught but a tranquil glow over the west through the still leaves of the trees; and a nightingale then bursting out into song at no great distance, I concluded there was nothing to fear; and throwing myself on the ground, in a minute I was again sound asleep.

Nothing disturbed me after that through the night, but soon after daybreak, as I take it, my ears were assailed by a confusion of sounds, and ere I could spring to my feet, a fellow threw himself upon my chest, another knelt upon my legs, and a third laid strong hands upon my shoulders, and in a trice I felt cords cutting into my arms and binding them to my sides.

"You escape not this time, Master Benet," growled a voice, and in truth my captors were as good as this fellow's words, for enough cord was bestowed about me as would have trussed up an elephant. My captors were six; all stout fellows and well armed, amongst whom I recognized one of the men that had served me the day before, and I cursed my folly that I had lain myself open to be taken in this way; for I might have foreseen the pursuit had I given it a thought. However, cursing was no good; there was I clapped up and in a fair way to get my punishment doubled, and more than that. And, as there was no likelihood of escape, the only thing left me was to bear my ill-luck with the fortitude of despair. Yet my heart sank as I saw them take up my bow which I had laid beside me on going to sleep, for I knew I should have it no more, and how could I get food or aught else without that when I got my liberty again? Better to take my life, or rob me for ever of my liberty, than take that by which I lived, thought I.

They haled me out into the open, and there for the first time this day I spied the gipsy Rodrigues. He was seated on a fallen tree, with his elbows on his knees, and his jaws in his hands, smoking tobacco in the end of a clay pipe; and now he had his keen eyes fixed on me, watching how I took this new buffet of fortune with the same look he had worn the day before, when I stood in the pillory.

I guessed it was his step that had aroused me the fore-going evening, and that he led on the sheriff's men to catch me, which was pretty near the truth of the matter, as I shall presently show.

To make sure that I should not escape, the men tied me up to a tree; then they proceeded to regale themselves from a store of meat, with which their wallets were well filled, making very merry with me the time; after which they consulted together in a low voice; and, one of them having parleyed for a few minutes with Rodrigues, they all stretched themselves out on the soft sward, and in a short time were asleep and snoring like so many swine, which surprised me somewhat, seeing that now the sun was getting pretty high.

For some while Rodrigues sat as still as any carved image, smoking his pipe and looking at me; then up he gets, and passing the sleepers as silently as might be, he comes to my side; and putting first his finger on his lips, and jerking his thumb over his shoulders with a sly leer to bid me be silent, he pulls a letter from his breast and showed me my name written upon it. This he thrusts back in his breast, and, after a glance over his shoulder to make sure all were still sleeping, he cut the cords that bound me to the tree with his dagger, and leads me a good stonecast distant, where we might converse in a low tone without being heard.

Here he again lugged out the letter, and, spreading it out (the seal being already broke), he held it before my eyes to read; for he had been careful not to sever the cords that tethered my arms to my side.

It was my uncle's hand and signature.

"You have read this?" says I.

Rodrigues shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, "I had been a fool else," and then says he, with the utmost assurance:

"I was to have given it to you last night, but you were sleeping so sweetly I had no heart to wake you. Besides, I thought you would more readily listen to his advice if you were in bonds than if you were free."

"So you betrayed me?"

"Not at once. I led the fellows up and down in the moonlight best part of the night, that they might be overcome with fatigue this morning, and so give me the opportunity of some serious conversation with you. Now read what Sir Bartlemy has to say."

I was in no position to resent this insolence; so I did what was next best—swallowed it, and followed his advice; and this is what I read:

"Nephew Benet,—You are no longer safe in my woods, for I have no power to shield you from the law. Even now the officers are out to apprehend you, and God knows what may befall if you are taken. If you have any feeling for me, any love for your father's memory, or any respect for yourself, you will escape this new shame. My ships lie in the haven ready to depart, and Sir Harry is still willing to accept you as his companion and friend in the noble enterprise now toward. I do beg and implore you be not a fool and a villain as well, but quickly accept this offer. Rodrigues, who bears this, does undertake to carry you safe to Flushing, where a boat lies in readiness to take you on board the Sure Hawk, where you shall find all comfort and good cheer, to say naught of the loving gratitude of thine old uncle,

"Bartlemy Pengilly."

This gentle letter did somewhat move my heart; and surely its sensibility had been gone beyond all recovery had it not responded to so warm an appeal; and my first feeling was that I would do his bidding. Then I bethought me what a mean and sneaking thing it was, after refusing this offer when I was free to accept it when I was not free; and what a hang-dog cur I should appear to all the crew when my story became known, and how (under the mask of pity and patronage) Sir Harry Smidmore must scorn me for a paltry fellow. And with that came the remembrance of Lady Biddy's contempt; and, coupling these two together, I was wrought again with fierce jealousy and hatred; and I did resolve that I would die ten thousand deaths rather than give them this food for their scorn.

Rodrigues, subtly watching me, must have seen the madness in my eye, for he whispered at this point—

"Sir Harry is wondrous eager to get you."

"Curse Sir Harry!" I muttered.

"Not I," says he, with a quiet laugh. "He'll give me a score of gold pieces if I take you to him; and no wonder, for he will be well repaid with caresses when he takes the news to Lady Biddy."

"You'll get no pieces from him, nor he kisses from her, through me, I promise you."

"Your ears will be cropped for a certainty if you are taken back to Truro." And then, as I made no reply, he adds, "You are minded to break your uncle's heart rather than your own pride."

"Nay," says I, "there's a way by which I may spare him shame, and myself as well."

"Are you man enough to thrust a knife in your own heart?" says he.

"Ay!" says I joyfully; "do but try me. Give but my forearm fair play and lend me your dagger. You shall be rewarded, I warrant, when you tell Lady Biddy I am no more. Or do you thrust it into me if you doubt the use I should make of the knife. I promise you I will not awake a single sleeper with my groans."

He nodded approvingly, but made no attempt to take me at my word.

"Life isn't worth much," says he, "to a fool. And 'tis only a fool who thinks there's never another loaf to be got when he's eaten the last crust. Look at me," spreading his arms and surveying his rags—"a prince last month, a beggar today. What of that? I'll be a king next year. And so may you be," he adds, after a pause. But that did not tempt me; so presently he goes on:

"If you had seen what I have seen, and if you were as hideous as I am, and as old, yet you would not talk of ending your life. If you had seen as I have seen"—speaking slowly, yet with passion, as, through his half-closed eyes, he seemed to be looking at what he described—"a land where the forests are flower-gardens, more fair than hand of man can make; where trees—not like these stunted things, which are but bushes by comparison—where trees I say, seem hung with precious gems, and waters run on beds of gold and silver, and every rock is dazzling crystal; where rich fruits tempt the appetite they never cloy; where flying birds are like the flash of gems, and their song more sweet than your musician ever heard in dreams; where the sun never parches nor cold winds bite; where the gentle air is brisk as wine and charged with the scent of leagues of flowers: if you had seen that land, I say, you would want to see it again before you died."

These hints of southern glories I had heard before from my uncle; though between his speech and this poetic gipsy's there was all the difference betwixt north and south.

"To see this land might tempt you to oblige Sir Bartlemy," says he. Then, after a bit, he continues, "But it does not, I perceive. You know the intent of this enterprise—first, to gratify your uncle's whim; and, next, to enrich Sir Harry, that he may wed Lady Biddy. You have no relish to help him that way—to come home with a gruesome face to pull the joy-bells at their wedding?"

"No, by the Lord! that will I never do!" says I.

"Then your answer to that letter is 'No'?"

"A thousand times 'No'!"

"You refuse the offer?"

"I do."

"I see you mean what you say," says he, looking me keenly in the eye, "and I am right glad it is so. I am not mistaken in you, Pengilly. I saw there was mettle in you from the first, else I had not taken all this trouble on myself to win you. Had you said 'Yes' to that letter you would have had me for your enemy, and it would have gone ill with you, I promise. As it is, I am your friend, as I will quickly prove. For, first, I will give you freedom, and after that a voyage to the south; whence you shall speedily return, your ship laden with gold: then shall you have possession of your mistress. All this I promise; ay, and more, for you shall, if you will, revenge yourself of the insults this proud maid has heaped upon you, and humble the man who would have taken her from you, so that he shall not dare to show his face before her. What say you to this?"

I could say nothing on the moment, being greatly perplexed by this unexpected turn; and ere I could command my senses to inquire of Rodrigues how he purposed compassing that which he proposed, we were both mightily startled by hearing, at no great distance behind us, the sound of men's voices; and presently one above the rest set to hallooing "Jack Geddes! Jack Geddes!" which was the name of that sheriff's man who had bound me as aforesaid. Then on the other side we heard the men who lay asleep rousing each other with a great confusion of sound that showed they had discovered my escape. Thus we stood between the party which had taken me and a second party sent after to help them. And the chance of getting freedom, to say nothing of riches and my sweetheart, looked more unlikely than ever. Yet did we contrive to escape, as I shall set forth in the next chapter.

CHAPTER III.

BY A CUNNING STRATAGEM I AM GOT OUT OF JACK GEDDES' HANDS, AND BROUGHT ABOARD THE "SURE HAWK."

The two parties of sheriff's men were distant from each other, as I took it by the sound of their voices, no more than a hundred yards, so that we could not burst away in any direction without hazard of being seen; and a foolhardy hazard it had been, for Jack Geddes and his party were armed with muskets, and would not have scrupled to use them. Yet how to escape did not appear until Rodrigues (as luck would have it) spied a fairly deep hole which had served at one time for a sawpit, and to this he hurried me, and we both leaped in, and there, in a twinkling, did he scrape aside the loose sawdust that lay at the bottom; and in the trough thus hastily made, I, seeing his intent, threw myself full length, and as quickly was smothered over from top to toe with the sawdust, so that nothing was visible of me.

By this time the two parties were joined, and there they set up a great shouting and cursing because I was no longer bound to the tree as I had been left. And not only did they curse me, but they cursed Rodrigues as heartily, vowing they would pepper him with their bullets as a faithless villain if they saw him. Whereupon this, Rodrigues, laying himself prone upon my body, set a most dismal groaning, like one in pain, hearing which Jack Geddes and the rest came rushing to the pit. Seeing him there all alone and doubled up as though he had been broke, half a dozen, in one breath, began to question him how he came there, what was amiss with him, etc. To which he replies with a groan:

"'Tis all along of that Pengilly! I was but dozing, when I heard one cry 'Jack Geddes'" (here a groan), "and the same moment I saw Pengilly with a mighty wrench tear himself from the tree. Up I started and after him, when, being but half awake, I threw myself in this cursed hole, and here have I broke my arm, I do believe. But do you leave me here (where I am as well as elsewhere), and catch the villain. I would not for the loss of both arms miss seeing his ears cropped."

"Ay! we will catch him: have no fear," says Geddes; "scatter yourselves, my fine fellows, and shoot down the rascal if you do but sight him, for we shall suffer for it if he escape us."

Whereupon the men, more concerned for themselves than for any hurt of Rodrigues, started off like hounds unleashed, and each, in his several direction, bent upon taking me again alive or dead. And it was none too soon, for the sawdust entering my mouth and nostrils when I breathed, I was pretty nigh choked—to say nothing of the oppression I suffered from the cords that pinned my arms and Rodrigues lying upon my back.

So when they were gone and Rodrigues, standing up and peering over the edge, said that all was clear, I lifted my head, shaking off the sawdust and spitting out that which had got into my throat, and breathed again.

"Now," said Rodrigues; "Now may we escape, for being all scattered, our pursuers are less likely to take us."

"Do but cut this cord," says I, "and I warrant not any two shall take me."

"Ay," says he, "I will cut your bonds with a good heart. But first you must swear to be secret and silent; nay, you must swear also to be obedient to my direction without question or murmuring, else will I leave you here to fare for yourself."

I promised him this, for I was in no position to haggle over terms; yet my promise was not enough for him, but he, taking his dagger by the blade, held it to my mouth, and would have me kiss the cross of it, swearing by that sign as a Christian to obey him in every particular. And this I did, the more readily because of the cord which Jack Geddes had knotted so cruelly about my arms that it bit into my flesh to my intolerable hurt.

Having thus made me take oath, he cut the cord, and I was free; yet for some time could I not use my arms with any freedom, by reason they were so benumbed and bruised. Nevertheless, I managed to scramble up out of the pit after Rodrigues, and thence, I following on his heels, with the stealth of any cats, we pushed our way by bush and briar through the thickest part of the wood, where, at sight of an enemy, we might lie down and be unseen. On we went, Rodrigues leading and keeping the sun well before, for a matter of three miles or thereabouts, without encountering any of my pursuers; and then, perceiving that if we kept on in this direction we must shortly come to Flushing, which lies (as I have said) on the hither side of the Fal, opposite Penny-come-quick, I twitched Rodrigues by the skirt and gave him to understand this, adding that there was not a fisherman there but knew me, and would have me hanged if he could; and this was true, for I was known and feared all round and about these parts, and held to be a wild man of the woods, very dreadful and dangerous, and a bogey to frighten children withal.

"I know well enough where I am going," says he.

"That may be," says I; "yet this is but a stepping out of the frying-pan into the fire, so far as I am concerned."

Whereupon he taps the handle of his dagger as a sign to me to remember my oath, and that is all the satisfaction I got.

So on we go again, still keeping the sun before up; and descending the hill anon we come to the river-side, and here Rodrigues stops, looking to the right and left, as if uncertain; then, putting his hand over his mouth, he gives the cry of "Cuckoo!" as natural as ever I did hear, and straight there comes an answer in the same manner from a thicket further up the river-side. Thither we made our way, but with great care, now being no more than a furlong or thereabouts from the village, screened off by a jutting point of land well timbered; and soon, passing through the said thicket, we came on a little creek, in which lay a boat, wherein sat a couple of seamen as tawny as Rodrigues, but stouter and better favored, albeit one lacked an eye.

All about this creek there lay an open space, from which an alley ran up into the wood; and, lest he should be observed, Rodrigues would not advance beyond the brush, whence he signaled his fellows to know if all were safe. And he with the one eye, rising up and stretching himself as if he were aweary, spied up the alley and all round and about, and then signaled, by winking his one eye, that he could see nothing; whereupon Rodrigues bade me cross the open quickly, get into the boat, and lie down under the sail that was there. He came not himself, but was gone when I got to the boat and cast my eye round for him. And here I may tell what I afterwards learnt concerning him. He made his way back with all speed to the sawpit, and lay there as if he had never budged when the men came back from their search after me, still feigning to be greatly hurt with his arm, though happily assured that it was not broken.

Meanwhile I, following his direction without knowing what the end thereof might be, got into the boat, and, lying down in the bottom, was covered over with the sail-cloth by one of the mariners, while the other loosed the boat from its moorings; and this was done none too quickly, for as the fellow was stepping into the boat from untying of the headline, who should come down into the open but John Geddes himself, as I knew full well by his voice.

"Hold, there!" says he, hailing the seamen. "Have you seen a great, sturdy fellow in a leather jerkin pass this way?"

"Not we," replies one; "and we've been on the lookout for such a man since yesterday afternoon—and a pox to him!"

"And, pray, who set you to wait for him?" asked Geddes, and his voice told that he was now close by the boat's side.

"Why, that's my master's business that sent us, and none of yours," said the fellow.

"Hold your clapper, Ned, and lend a hand with your oar," cries his mate, "for the boat is aground, and I can't shove her off. Yo, ho! all together! yo, ho?—there we be! Now off we go, Pengilly or no Pengilly, for, curse me," says he, "my in'ards will stand this griping no longer."

Then there sprang up a dissension between the two seamen and Geddes, who would have them ferry him over to Penny-come-quick, and they would not; and he, laying the stock of his musket on the gunwale to draw the boat so that he might step in, one of them flung it off, while the other fetched him a blow on the head with his oar that laid Master Geddes senseless on his back. Then says the first to the other—

"Lay to, Ned, for God's sake, or mischief will come of this."

All this while I lay still under the sail-cloth, expecting, for the most part, nothing less but to feel Geddes' foot step on to me. But his business being so concluded, I heard nothing more but the dip of the oars, the ripple of water under me, and the working of the rowlocks, until one of the men said to the other, "Pull under her lee, that we be not seen from the shore"; and the next minute the boat bumped, and the sail-cloth being whipped off, I found that we lay under the side of a fine, high ship.

"Up you go, comrade, quick," says Ned (he with one eye).

Then up the rope steps that hung by the ship's side I sped, and being come on deck was as speedily hustled down into the dark hold below, where they who had followed me down barricaded me round about with divers barrels, bidding me lie quiet until I should be told it was safe to venture forth.

And all this time I knew not that I had come as a runaway aboard my uncle's ship the Sure Hawk; but so it was.

CHAPTER IV.

I COME TO THE CANARIES IN BETTER PLIGHT THAN I STARTED.

When the seamen had hidden me away, so that no man not knowing the ways of the ship could well come at me save by discharging the hold of its stores, one brought me some meat and drink, and then I was left to myself in the dark. For some time all was quiet above, but about noon, as I judge, I heard a great bustle on the decks of pulling ropes and the like, and this continued all day until the evening, when the anchors were drawn up and the ship made sail. And the reason of this commotion was that Rodrigues, having got away from the sheriff's men, under pretense of seeking relief for his arm, sped him to Sir Bartlemy Pengilly to tell him how I had refused his offer, but had nevertheless gone aboard the Sure Hawk to escape the law; whereupon the knight, mightily pleased with this turn, ordered Sir Harry Smidmore, who then lay at his house, to lose no time in departing, but to take advantage of the breeze then springing up to set sail as soon as might be; and the stores being all aboard and the crew in readiness, Sir Harry set about this business at once. When the men stood at the anchor ready to heave away, Sir Bartlemy and Lady Biddy took an affectionate farewell of Sir Harry, and bidding him with tears God-speed and a happy return, quitted the ship. And so about eight o'clock that evening the Sure Hawk (with her companion, the Adventurer), sailed out of Falmouth Haven with me, Benet Pengilly, in the hold.

When we were fairly out to sea, Rodrigues came down to me with another fellow bearing a lantern, and bade me come out, and I was not sorry; for besides that it was extremely stuffy down there, so that there was no breathing with any comfort, the ship had begun to roll and pitch in such a manner that I feared every moment nothing less but to be crushed by some chest or barrel being thrown upon me, though, indeed, there was naught to fear in that respect, as I learned when I became better acquainted with the manner of these things. But, indeed, the sea ran unconscionably high, and the ship labored painfully all that night and the next day, and after that the next night again was no better, so that it was surprising to me that we had not foundered. Yet that was the last thing I feared, for, being miserably ill and as sick as any dog, I do truly think that had the ship split I should have made no effort to save myself.

I had been stowed away between decks among some bales of goods packed securely in the fore part of the vessel, and here I lay, with no comfort but a stone jar of water, until, waking from a sound sleep, it might be about noon and were now at sea three days, I perceived that the storm had greatly abated, and that my stomach was no longer qualmish, but quickened with a huge hunger—as well it might be after my long fast, etc. Then, feeling brisker than I had yet felt since we set sail, I sat up, and a savory smell sharpening my appetite, I got upon my legs, and so spied half a dozen seamen seated on chests under the light of the hatchway before a smoking mess of pork and pease. Thither I made my way, though not without difficulty, the ship still rolling immoderately, and begged civilly that they would let me eat with them. Whereupon one shoved the victuals toward me that I might help myself, but not a word, good or bad, did any of them speak, which was more noticeable because they had all been laughing and talking till they saw me. Presently a pipe sounded, and they all went up above; then down comes Rodrigues, and it was the first time I had seen him since we were at sea. He had on his sea skirt and large boots all running with water, for it still was exceedingly foul weather, and his hat tied down about his ears with a red kerchief. But he was in good spirits, and asked me cheerfully how I did as he seated himself beside me and helped himself to meat; and having answered his inquiry, I told him how the seamen scowled at me, and begged to know if I had done aught to deserve this ill-will.

"Why, yes," says he; "for had it not been to save you from the catchpoles, we should never have ventured to sea in such a rising gale. We have had no rest since we left Falmouth, and like at any moment to have gone to the bottom. For aught we know, our consort is lost, and all hands with her, not having been seen these two days. And this is a great loss, besides being a bad beginning to our enterprise, and all is set down to your charge. However, it is in your power to make them amends and win their love, and I make no doubt you will."

"With all my heart," says I, "if you do but show me how."

"All in good time," says he, tearing with his pointed teeth the flesh off a knuckle-bone of pork that he held in his hands; "all in good time. We can do nothing yet, but I look to you for help by-and-by, else had I not run all this risk for you. And yet," continues he, after a pause, flinging the knuckle-bone behind him—"yet it might be well for you to make friends with the captain at once. He asked to see you this morning."

"And who is this captain?" I asked, my curiosity awakening.

"Why, Sir Harry Smidmore, to be sure. Did I not tell you?"

"No," says I, moodily.

"Then you might have guessed it."

And this was quite true, if I had been in a humor for guessing.

"I have been trapped and despatched to sea to please Lady Biddy," says I, savagely.

"Well, you'll bear me no grudge for that. There was no way to save you but by getting you aboard the ship." Then, glancing round to see we were alone, he adds, dropping his voice, "And if Sir Harry Smidmore made to sea with you before you could escape, that he might please his sweetheart and keep you and her well asunder, 'twas no fault of mine. Don't you like it, Pengilly?"

I ground my teeth for response.

"Would you be even with him for this trick?" he asked, in the same low tone, and with a sinister leer.

"Aye, that I would!"

"So would I in your place," says he. "If a man served me that way, I'd—"

Here he stopped, and taking up a jack-knife, he stuck it in the deal board that served as a bench, and pressed on it till the blade came out on the other side, and while he did this his sinewy hand grasped the board as if it were a throat, and his lips were drawn back close to his pointed teeth; then he looked sidelong at me, saying never a word, as if to know how I took this hint.

"I am no murderer," says I, terrified by his manner as much as by his suggestion.

"Why, who said you were?" says he, with great show of indignation. "Cannot a man by steady endeavor go through a difficulty as I have gone through that board with this knife without doing a mischief? What a fool should I be to counsel you to such an end when our true success depends upon you being good friends with our captain. Nay," he adds, "if I thought you would curb your spirit to it, I would beg you to take Sir Harry's hand, when he offers it to you, and accept his friendship."

"That can I never do."

"So I thought. Howsomever, you must do him no injury or insult at this present. And, harkye, I know it for a fact that he wants to give into your hand a sum of money entrusted to him by your uncle for your particular use, that you might furnish yourself presently with an equipment worthy of his nephew; and this you must not refuse to take. Laugh as scornfully as you will, but you must take it, and I will tell you for why. When we get to a port, you will have to make the crew merry in return for the hardships they have suffered on your account. You must win them to your side, for we can do nothing else."

"They shall have every penny I get, and welcome. But tell me what you mean when you say we can do nothing without having the men on our side?"

"I mean," says he, "that without them you will get neither riches nor your sweetheart."

"And how, having them, am I to win these ends?"

"Leave that to me. I have promised the achievement, and if you do but work patiently upon my instructions, I will not fall short of my word. More than this I can not now tell you, but you shall know more hereafter. For the present, you can do nothing but win the affection of the men, and the captain also."

All this was a great mystery to me, and I could nohow fathom to the bottom of it: this only was clear, that I must follow Rodrigues' bidding, not only because I was bound to do so in a certain measure by reason of my oath, but also because it was good policy. So when I had refreshed myself by sousing my head in a bucket of water, I went above, and, holding on by the bulwarks, was much amazed with the sight of the heaving seas, which I had never before seen as now, all around me, and the way in which the great ship would dive down into the hollow of a wave as if to perdition, and yet the next moment ride upon the crest of it as light as any duck.

While I was standing here, one of the seamen came to me, saying that the captain would speak with me; so I went with him into the roundhouse under the poop deck where Sir Harry was, and very cheerful and bright this young man looked in his sea dress. Then, with a noble, easy air, he begs me to sit down, and, sitting himself, discoursed about the late storm, telling me how we should certainly have been all lost but for the admirable skill and exertions of the mate, Rodrigues (and this every one did allow), and all with perfect self-command and natural civility, as though we had been the best friends in the world. But he did not offer me his hand to take, and I was glad of this, for I could not have taken it without shame, feeling as I still did towards him.

"However," says he, "the work is over, and, please God, the first part of our voyage will soon be made; then you will be free to do as you like—either to go back to England or to go on with me. For I have not the power to hold you a prisoner, nor have I the wish to keep you with me, except as a friend. That is for you to decide, and I hope, with all my heart, you will decide to share in this enterprise, and return with me a richer and a happier man than ever you could have been had you not sailed with us. And that your choice may be perfectly free, here is a purse of money that Sir Bartlemy entrusted me with for your use. It will pay your voyage home, but if you have need of more for your necessities, I shall be very happy to place my purse at your disposal."

I took the bag of money he offered, thanking him for his civility as well as my untutored tongue would allow. Then he rose, making me a graceful bow, and bade the man who waited at the door to take me to my cabin, which I found very neat and properly furnished, with everything necessary to my convenience, and two good suits of new clothes, besides shirts, stockings, etc.

Rodrigues was mightily pleased when he saw me in my new clothes and with my hair decently combed, and it seemed to me that the seamen eyed me with more respect than they had yet shown me; indeed, I found that this decency did elevate me in my own opinion a great deal, so that I thought better of myself and more hopefully than I had since the beginning of my misfortunes.

The wind continued very high (but prosperous) for nine days after that, and then, making the Canaries, we came into water as smooth as the heart of man could desire, and so cast anchor at Fuerteventura. And here we were very busy for three days, repairing the mischief done us by the storm, and all that time we saw nothing of the Adventurer, our consort, which was to have joined us there in case of being separated, so that we gave her up for lost, and I know not who was more cast down about this, Sir Harry Smidmore or Rodrigues. However, on the fourth day the missing ship bore in sight (to our great joy), and by nightfall was anchored alongside of us, but with one mast gone, and so sorely bruised that she looked not the same ship she had been. And it was curious to see how the crew of the Adventurer, coming on board the Sure Hawk, the men did hug each other and weep for gladness. Amongst them all the most joyful were Rodrigues and Ned Parsons, the seaman I have spoken of as having only one eye, and who was master aboard the Adventurer. But what damped Sir Harry's spirits greatly was this, that his dear friend, John Murray, who was captain on our consort, had been washed overboard in the storm, and was no more; and that the men might not see his grief, he went into his own cabin and shut the door, and I think there was no sad heart on board but his.

Presently Rodrigues came to my side, and says he:

"Now is the time to win the hearts of these men. I shall get leave from the captain for them to go ashore; do you give them something to make merry with."

I agreed to this with all my heart, and fetching the bag of gold from my cabin which Sir Bartlemy had sent, I bade him distribute every farthing amongst them; and this he did, giving every man equal share, so that each got over a pound, for there was the value of a hundred pounds in the bag, and the two crews numbered four score, as near as may be.

When he had thus made the "dividend," as he called it, Rodrigues told them that it was I who gave the money out of love for them, and the hardships they had borne on my account. Whereupon Ned Parsons cried he would do as much again and a hundred times more for so generous a gentleman, and bade his comrades give me a cheer, which they did with all their lungs, and three times. And I thought this Ned Parsons was a good friend to me, but he was not.

CHAPTER V.

TO MY MORTAL PERIL I OVERHEAR A SORDID SCHEME OF RODRIGUES AND NED PARSONS.

Sir Harry gave leave that all should go on shore who had a mind to, save only such as Parsons and Rodrigues should need to keep on board the Adventurer and the Sure Hawk for their protection; and Rodrigues bade all be gone, saying that he and Ned Parsons would watch the two ships during the night. So the men went off in the barge, one batch after the other, and last of all Sir Harry himself went also to refresh his spirits after the grief of losing his dear friend; and Parsons rowed him to shore. There were then left on the Sure Hawk none save Rodrigues and I. And I being heavy with sleep (it being by that time nine o'clock, as I think) threw myself on my cot within my cabin, and fell off in a doze. While I lay there Rodrigues came to my cabin and saw me by the light of the lamp, as I found out afterwards. But presently awaking, I rose up and went out on the deck, feeling the want of fresh air. And indeed the night would have tempted most men to go forth, being very fair and the moon vastly bright, as it is in those parts.

There was not a soul on the deck, for Rodrigues, seeing me asleep and all clear, had gone into the captain's storeroom to pilfer a bottle of wine; and so without design I sauntered on till coming, as chance would have it, to the main-mast of the ship, I came to a stand, and leaning my back against the stern so that I faced the moon, I fell on meditating on my lot. Whilst I stood there I heard the dip of oars; then the chink of glass as Rodrigues set down his bottles right over against where I stood, but on the other side of the great mast, and after that he went to the side and called over, "Come up, Ned, I've that will make us merry, though we be not ashore."

"For all that I would rather be ashore with our mates," replies Parsons in a grumbling voice as he comes up the side.

"And so we will, man, and many a jolly night will we spend with our mates—when we have no secrets to keep," replies Rodrigues. "Here we have it all to ourselves, and need fear nothing if the drink do give a loose to our tongues."

"Where's Pengilly? He went not ashore," says Parsons, when he had tumbled over the bulwarks on to the deck.

"Asleep in the coach where you see the light burning, and is sound as a log. Sit you down here, and we shall see him if he comes out, which is not likely."

So they sat down together on a chest facing the roundhouse, and just on the other side of the mast where Rodrigues had set the bottles, and presently began to drink and talk; yet still I kept where I was, with my back against the mast; firstly, because the moon seemed to spread a calm over my mind which I cared not to dispel, and after that because I became curious to know what they had to talk about.

"Well," says Parsons, in a more cheerful tone, after taking a drink, "how goes it?"

"Famously," replies Rodrigues, clacking his tongue against his teeth and pouring out more wine.

"Have you sounded the men? Have you opened out to them of our project?"

"Nay; not yet. Nor have you, I hope, or they will blab everything before they get sober again. I bade you keep a still tongue, Ned."

"And so I have. There's been other matters to think on. A rare time it has been with us to keep the ship afloat. But I did my part of the business."

"And bravely, I warrant. Tell me how you did it, Ned."

"I caught him a stroke on the head with a crow as he was at prayer, and heaved his body out into the sea by the galley port." 'Twas thus he had cruelly murdered Captain Murray.

"No one saw you!"

"Never a soul. He was missed in the morning, and all think he was washed over by a sea."

"Well, there's one out of the way. 'Twill be Smidmore's turn next."

"When?" asks Parsons.

"That's as hereafter may be. I'm for leaving everything till we have provisioned at Trinidado."

"And I'm for going at it at once. Curse this hanging fire when there's prize to be taken, I say. Now Murray is out of the way you will be made captain of the Adventurer, and I reckon I will be master in your place on the Sure Hawk. We are well armed and ammunitioned, and shall not lack provisions. Then why should we wait till we've been to Trinidado, I want to know?"

"Because we should have to victual again before going round to the South Sea, and we want no one to get wind of our intent before we're ready to fly our colors. It would be folly to spoil the venture for the sake of a week or two. Besides, we know not how the men will take it."

"How do we stand for men?" asks Parsons, in his grumbling tone again.

"Why, there's Black, and Jarvis, and Kelly, and all those of our old crew who served with us before—they may be depended on."

"That's thirteen men, and we two make fifteen, all told."

"These men, though they pretend to believe that we are going up the Orinoco after a mare's next, are not such fools as to think that I design to end my days there."

"Ay!" says Parsons with a laugh, setting down his cup again. "Nor would they have been fools enough to engage on any such silly venture unless they felt sure something better was to come of it. Well, there's fifteen—go on."

"Of the rest there's a score as desperate follows as ever trod a deck, and ripe for any mischief."

"Would to Heaven we could have raked up more like them."

"The rest are fools; but sturdy, good seamen, for all that."

Here I was reminded of what I had previously remarked—viz., that there were two sorts of men in our crew and no third. One set were reckless, dare-devil, cursing rascals, and the other were as simple-minded as any children; but, as Rodrigues, said every one a hale, good seaman. And this was due to the cunning of Rodrigues, who, by reason of his knowing the parts to which we were bound, had been entrusted to choose a crew likely for the purpose.

"Well," says Parsons, "here are five-and-thirty men to back us at a sign, and a match for all the rest with their captain and your Pengilly as well. Now, here's my plan, Rodrigues, and if you will hear me you shall own that it is better than all your fiddle-faddle of waiting for this, that, and t'other."

"Well, out with it, Ned. You know that I have never refused to listen to advice, nor to act on it when I saw it was good; else had we never won our way."

"That's true, and I own but for your cursed cool judgment we should all have been strung up like so many weasels."

Over this interchange of civilities they drank another cup and shook hands. Then Parsons started off in high good-humor:

"Here's how I see it. Sir Harry will make you captain of the Adventurer; for why? There's no man so fit; and he'll very like make me master of this ship under him, as being best able to navigate her and the like. The men will be fairly divided between the two ships as heretofore. Now, as soon as we set sail I shall make it so cursedly uncomfortable for the foolish fellows of my crew that they shall pray to be exchanged into your ship. To this I shall persuade Sir Harry, taking in their place all those men disposed to our design."

"So we get all the simpletons under me, and all the desperadoes under you," says Rodrigues.

"That's it. And matters being so, I will open out our scheme to my crew, who will jump at it like sharks. Then the first calm night will we order things so that my men shall board your ship after binding Sir Harry, and make prisoner every mother's son: which done, you shall ask the company plump out whether they choose to join in our venture and make their fortunes, or whether they stick to their articles, and will go a searching for gold where there's naught but serpents and fevers. Who will refuse to join us then, eh?"

"Sir Harry, for a surety."

"Then overboard he goes, and away we sail south with joyous hearts, and no more dallying."

Rodrigues took the time of drinking another cup to consider. But little as I knew of this strange matter, I felt sure he would not agree to this proposal (being a very subtle, painful man), for if he thus parted with all the men proper to his desperate enterprise, what was to prevent Parsons deserting him and going whithersoever he pleased with his desperadoes?

"Yes," says Rodrigues, "your scheme might succeed, but it will be better to turn the tables about so that you send all the dependable men to me, and I send the others to you."

Parsons made no reply to this, whereby he revealed the secret treachery that was in his mind. But Rodrigues taking no notice of this, though he must have perceived it, continues cheerfully, "No, Ned; on second thoughts that plan will not do. For taking the men unprepared in this way, a score of them may hold on to the hope of getting treasure in Guiana, and so rally round the captain. Then we may have to throw them overboard as well as the captain, which will be a great loss to us. For we can make no great success with small means, and it will never do to start short-handed. Besides this," says he, "the men pressed into our service by the fear of death will never serve us as willing hands would."

"Why, that is true," says Parsons, who clearly did not relish the idea of his own scheme being acted upon contrariwise. "You always had a better head for these matters than any of us. So let us hear how you would act."

"In this wise," said Rodrigues. "As soon as we set sail from here—you on the one ship and I on t'other—we will secretly show the dullards the folly of seeking wealth in Guiana, when they can enrich themselves tenfold without leaving the ship, or encountering any of the hazards and hardships of going a-foot through those fearful wilds. And first will I win over Pengilly, who is ripe for this enterprise. When I am sure of him, Sir Harry will be got rid of, and then will Pengilly take his place as commander, being nephew to Sir Bartlemy, whose ships these are. So without the loss of one man we shall have gained our way, and all willingly will obey his directions."

"So far so good," says Parsons; "but how is this to advance us? Are we to take for our share no more than what he chooses to give us as his officers?"

To this question Rodrigues made no reply. And this silence perplexing me, I cast my eyes sidelong to see if they had moved away. And then I perceived what it was had stopped his tongue.

The moon had shifted during their conversation (of which a great deal for the sake of brevity I have not set down), and whereas at the beginning it had shone full on my face, it now struck me somewhat on my left side. So that there down on the deck I spied my shadow revealed beside the great mast, and Rodrigues had spied it also. For before I could turn my head, I felt his long bony fingers upon my throat, and then the flash of his dagger in the moonlight caught my eye.

CHAPTER VI.

I AM NEARLY UNDONE BY MY SHADOW.—NED PARSONS AND RODRIGUES, THEIR ARGUMENT, WITH THE COMPACT THAT FOLLOWED.

Now, I had not stirred a hair's breadth the whole time this Rodrigues and Ned Parsons were discussing their affairs; and thus I was standing, with my back against the great mast and my feet a couple of spans away from it, when Rodrigues takes me by the throat, flashing his steel before my eyes, as I have said, and, at the same time, Parsons, slipping his foot betwixt my legs and the mast, fetches me a trip which brings me plump down on my back. Then, in a twinkling he throws himself upon me, and had certainly done my business with his jack-knife (both having lugged out upon catching sight of my shadow), but that Rodrigues, catching his arm back, cries—

"Hold, Ned! Don't you see that this is none but our friend Benet Pengilly?"

"I see well enough who it is," answers Parsons; "but he is a spy for all that, and shall pay for stealing on us. Let go my arm, Rodrigues!"

But this Rodrigues would not, being just as quick to fore-see results as Parsons was to lose sight of them.

"Don't be a fool, Ned!" said he. "How could he have stolen on us, and we sitting with our eyes on the cabin? He was here from the first, and I do not blame him for picking up what we were careless to let fall. And what harm in that? He has but learnt what we intended to tell him. Would you ruin everything by spilling his blood, when his loss would draw suspicion on our heads, and set all our mates against us with mistrust? Had it been another he should have died, and I would not have left the business to you neither; but the moment I got my hand on his throat I saw it was our friend."

"That may be," says Parsons; "but, curse me! he shall give me some better assurance that he intends to stand by us in this matter ere I let him rise."

"Nay," says I, "you shall get nothing from me by force"; and, getting my hands under him, I flung him off like an old cloak, and sprang to my feet. "Now," says I, "what is it you want of me?"

All this passed as quick as the words will run, so that the whole business was not more than a minute or so in the doing.

"Well done, Pengilly!" cries Rodrigues. "I like you the better for this taste of your manhood. I never mistrusted a brave man yet, and here's a proof of it now," and with that he sticks his dagger in the deck, and seats himself on the chest, with empty hands, bidding Parsons, as he was a true man and not a born fool, to do the like, which he presently did, sticking his jack-knife in the deck, and sitting alongside of Rodrigues; and to show I feared neither, I seated myself betwixt them.

"Now, Ben," said Rodrigues, clapping me on the knee cheerfully; "what's it to be? You have heard our design. Do you stay in the Canaries, or go with us to the South Sea?"

"What to do?" I ask for this question did still perplex me.

"What to do? Why, to get gold, to be sure."

"I thought you had decided not to set foot ashore," said I.

"And so we have; for what Englishman has ever got gold that went out of his ship to get it? The fools have thrown more gold into Guiana than ever they have taken out of it, a hundredfold."

"Ay! And gold is not the only thing they have thrown away," says Parsons, "but many a good and honest Englishman's life as well."

"For every man that has come home," says Rodrigues, "a hundred have been left behind—slain by Indians, stung by serpents, dead of fevers, or slaves to the Spaniard."

"And them as do come home are none the better for having gone thither," chimes in t'other rascal, "as we do testify; for here am I short of one eye, and Rodrigues a sight to see."

"That there is gold in Guiana no one can doubt," says Rodrigues; "but the only men who can get it are the Indians, and their only masters are the Spaniards and Portugals."

"Then where did you get the treasure you brought to England?" I asked.

"Why, from the Spaniard, to be sure, and as fairly as he got it from the Indian."

"Ay! and fairer," says Parsons; "for we got it by straightforward and honest fighting."

"And if we were more lively in our attack," puts in Rodrigues, "'twas because their galleons were unwieldy with their weight of gold."

"I count we do 'em a service to ease them of their load," says Parsons, "for they have more than they can carry with comfort" (this with a laugh at his own joke).

"Ay! but our love doesn't end there; for, look you, Ben, which is the better—to let your uncle's ships and treasure be cast away in the Orinoco, to lead fourscore men to misery and death in those fearful winds, or to carry them back home, every man rich for life? To suffer the Spaniard to carry that gold into Spain for the encouragement of Papistry and devilish cruelty, and the furnishing out another Armada, or to take it away from them for the benefit of our country and the honor and glory of our king?"

And in this manner they carried on the argument a long while, one playing the part of marrowbone to the other's cleaver, while I sat in silence and lost in wonder, like one who should of a sudden see a strange new sun rise up in the sky. At length I found the sense to speak, and, say I—

"But how can we attack the Spaniard when we are at peace with Spain?"

"Why," says Rodrigues, "peace there may be in these waters, for that matter; but there is no peace below the line, as every one does know."

"Nay," says I, "'tis nothing but piracy you offer."

"You may call it what you like," says he, "but I think it no shame for any man to walk in the shoes of Drake and Candish."

"'Tis a hanging matter, for all that," says I, still objecting.

"A hanging matter for those who fail to take home gold, but a knighting matter for those who do, as witness Sir Francis and others less nice than he. But 'tis the same all the world over, whether a man undertake to find gold or to cure bunions. Raleigh gets his head cut off for failing, and Master Winter is made a peer. And quite right it be so, for it puts a check on men from hazarding foolishly, and encourages them to push their fortunes with zeal, when the chance is on their side."

"And this is the long and short of it," says Parsons, bluntly, for argument was not to his taste. "Are you with us, or are you not?"

"I am with you," says I, and upon that we joined hands—all three.

And in thus readily falling in with this villainous proposal I was moved, not so much by Rodrigues, or his subtle arguments, as by my own fierce and lawless spirit, and a certain brutal craving and lust of blood and treasure, which Lord forgive us, urges too many of us to cruel pursuits, no whit more justifiable in the eye of God than piracy.

CHAPTER VII.

THE PERPLEXITY OF BEING NEITHER THOROUGH-FACED ROGUE, ARRANT FOOL, NOR HONEST MAN.

We stayed at Fuerteventura nine days, and then made sail, being again in good condition and nothing lacking, and shaped our course for the West Indies. And as Parsons had foreseen, Rodrigues was appointed captain of the Adventurer, while Parsons took the place of master on board the Sure Hawk. This pleased the Adventurer's company vastly, for all looked upon Rodrigues with open admiration, backed up by secret hope; and, indeed, there was no man more proper for this post.

No sooner had we quitted our anchorage than we began, Parsons and I, to work upon the minds of those foolish fellows who had to be prepared for that change we intended to bring about. So now Parsons, instead of painting the glories and delights of Guiana, as he had done with a very free hand, when inducing them to leave their fishing villages and join our ships, did treat all such glories with derision, telling them they were like all to get a good deal more than they expected, and thrusting his tongue in his cheek with a wink of his one eye at me for all to see. Whereupon these fellows did begin to scratch their heads and think they had been hoodwinked, and led into a business which had been better left alone. And from that he went on to tell of all the horrible beasts and worms there existed in the marshes of those parts; the poisonous fruits in the forests, all so like the wholesome that one never knew whether his meal was to give him strength or burst him open by its venomous swelling; of the cannibals, whose shoulders grew higher than their heads, and whose arms were two fathoms long; and such-like wild stories. If any one doubted the truth of what he said, he would appeal to one of those men who had previously voyaged with Rodrigues, and these, seeing which way the cat jumped, confirmed him in every lie, no matter how outrageous. Then he came gradually to talk of Hawkins and Morgan, and fellows of that kidney, exalting them to the skies—in fine, we carried this business so well that by the time we arrived at Trinidado there was not one man aboard the Sure Hawk but that heartily wished to rove the South Sea for gold rather than to seek it in Guiana; yet, for all that, a good half of the crew were stanch and faithful to our captain, and prepared to die with him in the wilds; nor would they listen to anything in his disfavor, or any project of desertion. And the reason of this was that Sir Harry Smidmore, being of a lively and sanguine temperament, and having unbounded faith in the success of his enterprise, had ever a cheerful and kind word for his men, and neglected not to comfort the company in every possible way, so that he won all the hearts to him that had any decent feeling. Indeed, as the fresh sea air purged away my splenetic humor, and the society of sturdy men inspired me with a wholesome shame of those contemptible humors which were bred by solitude, I no longer harbored an envious jealousy toward Sir Harry, perceiving plainly how far above mine were his claims to the love of Lady Biddy Fane. Feeling thus with regard to him, I could neither wish to do him a mischief myself, nor to see him come to harm by other hands. Yet every day it became more obvious that a cruel end awaited him. There was no chance of his forsaking the expedition into Guiana to become a pirate on the high seas, and it was therefore clear that he must be privately got rid of to avoid a mutiny amongst these thirty or forty good men who were stanch to him.

I own I was greatly perplexed over this matter, and more than once I was on the point of revealing the conspiracy to him; for I felt that, if he were murdered, I should, in a manner, have his blood upon my conscience; but as many times was I deterred from this confession by recalling my oath to Rodrigues, and by a certain sense of honor which may exist even amongst such rogues as we were. And so I was terribly put to it all the time we lay at Punto de Gallo, revictualing and making the final preparations for going up the Orinoco.

We lay off Punto de Gallo three days, and the men of both ships mingling, Ned Parsons and Rodrigues found occasion to lay their heads together pretty frequently; and this boded me no good, for Parsons had ever kept a jealous and suspicious watch upon my movements, and must have perceived my growing love for our captain. On the evening of the third day, we three being ashore together, and come to a spot free from observation, Rodrigues says:

"If this breeze holds, we are likely to sail to-morrow; and as we may not get another chance of conversing privily, let us settle what's to be done, and how we are to do it when we are aboard."

"Ay, we've had enough shill-I-shall-I," says Parsons, in his surly tone.

"We should have been further off from success if we had gone a shorter way to work, Ned," said Rodrigues, "as you know well enough, though you won't own to it. If we had followed your advice and thrown the captain overboard when we left the Canaries, half the men would have been against us, and looked upon the first storm that came as a judgment upon us. It's no good setting men to a task before they're prepared for it. Now there's not a man aboard the Adventurer who is not thirsting to get at the Spaniard."

"You've had them all to yourself; but it's another matter aboard the Sure Hawk," says Parsons; "there's a score of half-hearted fellows amongst us that were better at home."

"That's as you think, Ned. What say you, Pengilly?"

"The men's hearts are as stout as ours," says I; "and as ready to meet the Spaniard as any of your crew. I'll answer for them."

"Perhaps you'll answering for their flinging the captain overboard when the time comes?" says Parsons, with a sneer.

"I'll answer for you, Parsons, if there's a cowardly murder to be done; but for no one on board the Sure Hawk," says I. "I warn you, Rodrigues, that if you attempt the life of Sir Harry, you'll have a score of us to settle with, him and Benet Pengilly among the number."

"There, didn't I tell you as much?" says Parsons, nudging Rodrigues.

Rodrigues frowned on him to be still, and turning to me, says, calmly—

"What do you mean by that, Pengilly?"

"I mean this: our captain shall not be murdered," says I.

"And how can you prevent it, pray?" asks Parsons.

"There'll be plenty of time to warn him before you can silence me, Parsons."

"Didn't he swear secrecy by the cross, Rodrigues?"

"Yes, I did," says I; "but I'll break my oath rather than have murder on my conscience!"

"Conscience! How long have you been troubled with that commodity?" asks he.

"Fool! you be still," cries Rodrigues, stamping his foot. "Haven't you sense enough to see that Pengilly's warning saves us from the very thing that I have dreaded all through? I know the mischief of having discontented men in a crew."

"Settle it how you will," says Parsons with an oath, getting up and turning his back on us. "Curse this dodging backwards and forwards, say I!"

"If the captain were out of the way, and you took his place, as lawful representative of your uncle, the men would do your bidding, wouldn't they, Benet?" said Rodrigues in a friendly tone.

"No doubt," says I; "but I will not have any hand in this business if violence is to be done to Sir Harry."

"Then what do you propose we should do?" asks he.

"He lies ashore to-night: why shouldn't we sail without him?"

"That's better than ever!" cries Parsons, turning round. "Leave him here to send a king's ship after us. A plaguey good notion, that," and he burst out into a horse-laugh.

"That won't do, Ben," says Rodrigues; "as Ned says, we should have a man-of-war sent after us, and so have to fight English as well as Spaniards. I think I can offer something better than that"; and drawing me aside that Parsons might not hear, he dropped his voice and said: "Supposing, when we are out at sea, we tell the captain our determination to go roving, and ask him to join us?"

"He will refuse: that's certain."

"Very well; then let us give him one of the ships and let him go with as many of the men as choose to join him. What say you to that?"

I agreed to this readily; for it seemed a better way out of the mess than any I had imagined.

"Good," says he; "so shall it be. Now, leave me alone with Parsons. He is a self-willed, headstrong fellow; but I know how to manage him, and I promise you I will make him hear reason."

So I left them, never dreaming but that Rodrigues, for his own interest, was dealing fairly in this business, and speaking his mind honestly.

That night our captain brought aboard an Indian Cazique named Putijma for our pilot. This man told us that the true mouth of the Oronoque and the best for us to enter was in the Boca de Nairos, and about thirty leagues south of Punto de Gallo; and thither it was agreed, the breeze remaining prosperous, we should sail the next day.

When this news was imparted to our company there was a great cheer, and every man set to with a will getting the ship ready that she might sail at daybreak; and the sky being very fair and clear they worked all night to this end, and there was such bustle of men coming on board, shouting of orders, and getting things in their places, that no sleep was to be got.

A little before daybreak I turned out of my cot, and, going on deck, found that some were already aloft shaking out the sails, while others were heaving up the anchor, and all singing of sea songs, and as merry as any grigs. Ere yet the sun had risen our sails filled; we left our anchorage, and, looking out, I spied the Adventurer, her sails spread, following pretty close in our wake. Then, the light growing amain, I perceived one strange face amongst our company, and then another, and after that a third and fourth, and so on, till I numbered a full dozen; yet these men were not so strange to me but that I recognized them as being part of the crew of the Adventurer. Upon this, suspecting mischief, I cast my eye about for those men whom I have spoken of as being stanch and loyal to our captain, and not one of these could I find. In this I saw clearly the villainy of that subtle Rodrigues, who, by thus shifting the crew, ensured his plan against opposition, for not one man now on board the Sure Hawk could be counted on to side with the captain in going to Guiana, whereas all would readily agree to ridding themselves of him in order that they might follow their own lawless bent uninterrupted; meanwhile, by his own persuasion and the influence of the rascally crew on the Adventurer, those simple fellows from the Sure Hawk who still held to an honest course could be easily won over to his purpose. To make sure that the change on board was not due to accident, I sought out Ned Parsons; but the rascal, seeing me coming, feigned to be mightily busy, so that I could not get a word out of him in any way, which served to convince me of his treachery. Getting no satisfaction from him, I went into my cabin, and there, sitting on my cot, I turned the matter over in my mind, and, after looking at it this way and that, I resolved I would go and warn Sir Harry of his danger; for, as I told Rodrigues, I was prepared to break any number of oaths rather than be a party to a foul murder. And, lest I should be credited with more generosity in coming to this decision than I deserve, I will here confess that I was not unmindful of my own peril. For, if it served the purpose of these desperadoes to throw our captain overboard, why should they spare me? I laid no faith whatever in the promises of Rodrigues; nay, I was inclined to believe Ned Parsons the honester rogue of the two. I knew that all he considered was how to advance his own fortune. Had the crew been more difficult to seduce and less disposed to become pirates, then it would have served his turn to carry out his original project, and give the enterprise a fair face by appointing me, as nephew of Sir Bartlemy Pengilly, their generalissimo; but now that it was clear the whole body of men needed no such countenance to their project, it would be expedient to get rid of me as well as Sir Harry. So to the captain, who still lay in the cabin, I went, and asked him if he knew of the change that had been made.

"Ay, Pengilly," says he cheerfully; "I ordered it so. Parsons tells me there is a lawless spirit spreading amongst the men on the Adventurer, and he picked out certain of them as being the worst. These Rodrigues begged me to take with us in the Sure Hawk in exchange for those he thought might bring the rest to a healthier way of thinking on the Adventurer."

"That villain, Rodrigues!" I exclaimed. "I saw his devilish hand in this. We are lost!"

"Lost? What do you mean by that?" asks Sir Harry, bating his breath.

"I mean that you have parted with the only honest men in the crew, and have none but ruffians left about you."

"Nay, you wrong them. Desperate they are, for who but desperate men would dare a desperate enterprise? But they are honest—I'll answer for 'em. They have sworn to follow me, and they will."

"You will be lucky to get away without such followers," says I; "but, in truth, I doubt if we do ever set foot again on dry land."