Edmund Lester Pearson

“ Black Pedro knew that no ship, manned only by an aged bo's'n and a cabin-boy, could live through such a tempest. A few days later his worst fears were realized, for by the wreckage that was washed ashore, he knew that 'The Angel of Death' had gone to pieces in the storm. When The Plank itself, worn smooth on its upper side by the hundreds of feet that had passed over it, was tossed upon the shores of Rum Island, the pirate sat down on the sand and sobbed aloud. ”

“ And he proceeded to wash his face and hands over the stern of the boat. We were all very much awake now, very hungry, and no longer tired. The swim had opened our eyes. The drowsy moonlight world had gone and given place to one of sunshine. A breeze rattled the halliards against the mast, and ruffled the blue water of the bay in little patches. We hurried into our clothes, while the Chief warned us to keep out of the cockpit, and not get everything wet. Sprague struggled with his shirt, and declaimed his favorite poem in a muffled tone. ”

“ It was a small boat, covered with flags and streamers. A brass band, in red coats, sat in the bow playing "Sweet Marie." As the boat came nearer I was surprised to see how few people, aside from the band, were on it. I had expected to see a big crowd,—a picnic gathering. Instead, there were only about two dozen people. Most of them were men, but a few had brought their wives—nice looking old ladies—with them.
Mr. Snider stood up on a high place, took off his black felt hat, with a great flourish, and put on his ghastly smile. "Welcome!" he shouted, "welcome to Rogers's Island!" ”

“ Spook crawled into the "Hoppergrass" just as we felt the first cool gust against our faces. A cloud blew across the sun for an instant. The boom swung out with a rattle and a bump, the sail filled, and the "Hoppergrass" heeled over to the breeze. It was only a light puff, and it did not last long, but it was enough to get us under way once more. Spike and I took a peek toward Mr. Snider's boat. They were getting up their sail, so Spike jumped up on the seat again. He was in danger there, if they should fire again, but as he said, he could not sail the boat while he was crouched on deck. ”

“ But he held mine still, and smiled his tooth-achy smile.
"What is it we can do for you?" he repeated. He had a smooth voice that somehow made me feel as if I was having warm butter poured over me.
"I'm looking for a boat," I said, trying again to snatch away my hand.
"A boat?" he queried, in mild surprise, "and what is your name,— my little man?"
I started to tell him, and then it struck me, that we had given our real names to the constable at Bailey's Harbor, and that I might get into trouble if I told mine again, here. ”

“ Think of living at a place so famous as that! It sounds like great fun. But nobody does live there. When I got off the train there was only one man in sight, and he was standing on a wharf watching a steamboat go up the river, or down the river, or whatever it is. That was MY boat,—I was going to Duck Island in her. But she'd gone, and the man said he'd let me take a canoe, for half a dollar, and I thought that was very trusting of him, for how did he know I'd ever bring it back? But he said I could leave it with a man named Pike, who lives on Little Duck Island, and he'd get it tomorrow. ”

“ She grew in size every second, an overwhelming cloud of canvas,—a fine sight on the darkening water.
"T-T-Tack!" exclaimed Spook, "she c-can't s-sail into the wind with that s-spinnaker!"
"What's the good?" growled Spike, "she can sail all round this boat, just with her mainsail and jib."
Now the yacht bore down on us with a rush, cutting through the water and sending spray flying on either side of the bow. The dory was forgotten as we watched this new enemy. There was no one to be seen on board,—the spread of her canvas hid everything. ”

“ A few sloop-yachts and cat- boats were at anchor in the river, but none of them was the "Hoppergrass." Old and dilapidated wharves ran down to the river, some of them deserted, and covered with grass. There were tumble- down buildings at the water's edge, and they were mostly black with age. The town looked as if it had been sound asleep for a hundred years.
The Chief skilfully sailed our boat up to a wharf, where there was a landing-stage, and all of us, except our skipper, went ashore. Half way up the wharf we found a man, painting a row-boat. ”

“ Up and down the Spanish Main he sailed, and the sight of that foresail, with its terrible picture of the Black Angel, struck terror to the heart of every man afloat. Even men-of-war fought shy of the three Pedros. Once 'The Angel of Death' rounded the Cape of Good Hope and attacked a treasure fleet on its way back from the Indies. On that occasion it captured so many chests of gold doubloons that they quite blocked up the social hall, where the crew used to hold their revels, and they had to revel on deck, until 'The Angel of Death' got back to Rum Island, where they buried their treasure. ”

“ The ladder was rickety, but it held, and I got to the top, and began to fumble for the hasp or lock of the scuttle. It was thick with cob-webs and dust, and for a while it refused to move. While I was working at it I heard Mr. Snider open the door at the foot of the attic stairs.
I stood perfectly still on the ladder. In books they tell how, when you are frightened, your heart comes into your mouth. It isn't at all what happens. Your heart stays right where it always is, but it thumps so loud that you feel as if it could be heard in the next room. ”

“ Pete brought the yacht carefully alongside the duck, Sprague twined one foot around the bob-stay, reached over and lifted the bird into the boat. As soon as it was set on deck the duck shook its feathers, gave one defiant waggle of the tail, and paddled aft, remarking: "Quack! quack! qua-a-a-ck!"
"Well! Simon, old man!" said the delighted Pete, "did you think we had left you behind? You didn't think that of us, did you? But you had started out to overtake us, hadn't you? That shows what a good old sport you are. ”

“ Pope we knew was librarian of the Sunday School at home, and that if he knew any smugglers he had kept it a secret. Ed Mason had got rid of his pebble, and he now joined us again.
"Are you ready, men?"
"Ay, ay,—heave ahead!"
So we started once more. The streets were black as ink. They were paved with cobblestones, and there did not seem to be any side- walks. The buildings were fishermen's and clammers' huts, boat- houses, and small shops,—all dark and deserted. The fog shut out everything at a short distance. At the top of the hill there was one dim light in the rear of a little shanty. ”

“ Justin took the prisoner by the arm, took the banjo in his other hand, and together they started down stairs. They passed in front of us to reach the stairs, and as they did so, the young man turned to Mr. Daddles with a smile:
"If you ever get out alive, remember me to my friends, out there.
Tell 'em I passed away, thinking of them."
"Silence in the Court!" cried Gregory.
The constable was now in a fury.
"If he locks up a man for banjo-playing—" murmured Mr. Daddles,—
"He'll have us burned at the stake," suggested Jimmy Toppan. ”

“ Daddles. "We'd better leave it, I suppose, and go back to Squid
Cove. We can walk—and if that really is fog—"
"It's fog, all right," said Jimmy.
There was a sea-turn. The wind smelt salty and damp, and the fog was creeping in. It was not more than a mile distant. We all knew enough about fogs not to want to be out in the bay in one, without a compass, and when it was nearly sunset. So we hurried down to the boat, and pushed off.
"If anyone ever asks me if there is treasure on Fishback Island," reflected Mr. Daddles, "I'll know what to tell 'em." ”

“ I wondered.
"I know," said Jimmy Toppan, "he's going to hurry off and put it in the bank, before Ike Flanders tries to get it away from him."
"No," said Mr. Daddles, "he's going to bury it in his garden." "First," remarked Ed Mason, "he'll take it into the house and test it with acid, to see if it's genuine."
"He thinks we're a gang of bunco men," Mr. Daddles reflected. "I wonder why he trusts us with his boat."
"He knows that no one would be foolish enough to steal it," said
Jimmy; "look at it!" ”

“ A real, simon-pure pirate would have refused to shake hands with a low- down wrecker, and it would have served him right, too.
"But Black Pedro was the very top-notcher of them all, the finest flower of piracy. He didn't go pirating just during the summer months, when his other business was slack. And he would have died before he'd have been a wrecker. It was a profession, with him. And an inherited one, too. He was the third of the name. He started in as cabin boy on the ship of his grand-father,—old Black Pedro the First. ”

“ It was the most unfortunate moment possible.
"Look out!" shouted Sprague; "look out! You're going—"
A gust of wind caught their sail, the boom jibed, nearly knocking Mr. Snider overboard, the little mast snapped like a match, and the sail went into the water, leaving their boat helpless.
The same gust so nearly brought our boat into collision with the "White Rabbit" that we were getting out oars, to try to fend off, while those on board the yacht hastily took in their last sail. ”

“ It seemed resonable that a man who had followed the sea for forty years, like the Captain, would get "sea-legs" for good and all. But we never dared to ask the Captain about it.
"Hey! Clarence!" he shouted again. "What's the matter with yer?
Think we want to stand here all day?"
The others of us, waiting on the wharf, were Ed Mason, Jimmy Toppan, and myself. My name was Sam Edwards. (It still IS Sam Edwards, of course, except that some people call me Samuel now) .
"You boys provide the grub," the Captain had said, "an' I'll find the boat for a week's cruise." ”

“ It was a shabby and ill-kept dory, dirty, and with half an inch of dirty water washing about in it. But we didn't care. Almost any boat is good enough when you are looking for buried treasure. We set out, with Mr. Daddles and Jimmy rowing. A breeze had sprung up and the bay was a little choppy, so we splashed and bumped along at no great speed. Mr. Daddles did not pay much attention to the management of his long oar, but got into a discussion with Jimmy about what they would buy with their share of the treasure. Jimmy said his first choice would be a sailing yacht. ”

“ We routed him up, and cooked the dinner. While we were eating, the question arose: who was to go to Rogers's Island?
"We'll draw lots," said someone. We did so,—with slips of paper, and I was more than pleased when I saw that I had,—well, I was going to say: won. I thought I had won at the time, and I was tickled at the idea of going on this expedition by myself.
As we were separated from our boat, clothes, and all our belongings, Sprague fitted me out with some money, and I left Lanesport on the horse-car. ”

“ Some of them hit each other in their excitement, and that made them so angry that they turned and fought amongst themselves. In the meantime, the Captain was firing his pistols and slashing with his cutlasses, and making terrible havoc amongst his followers. In ten minutes all was over. Of that proud band of pirates, once the terror of the Spanish Main, only two men were left alive. These were Black Pedro himself, slightly wounded in the leg, but still able to walk, and old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n. Aaron was running at top speed toward the beach, trying to get to a small boat. ”

“ Daddles, "but they have this virtue: they go home at night, and let the jail take care of itself. In the city, we should have had to pick our way through the slumbering forms of innumerable cops."
We listened at the window. Bailey's Harbor, after its great excitement over the captured burglars, had gone home, and gone to sleep. Everything was quiet as a graveyard. We could hear the slapping of the water against the timbers of the wharf, and somewhere, a rooster, disturbed by the moonlight, crowed once. ”

“ Did you ever try to fish a big water-melon out of a river? It is about the roundest thing, and the slipperyest thing, and the hardest thing to get hold of, that you could imagine. It rolls over and over, and when you get it out—plop! it tumbles back into the water and sinks out of sight. Then it comes up again— bobbing—at some other place. Clarence and Ed were in an argument as to which of them had dropped the melon, while Jimmy stood up in the bow and shouted directions to me. ”

“ Then he tip-toed back into his cell, and shut the door again.
"It won't do to go upstairs too soon. I'll give 'em time to get home. Then I'll get the keys to your cells,—never shall it be said of Despard D'Auvigny that he deserted his friends in misfortune! A regular jail-delivery,—what? The destruction of the Bastille was nothing to this! And we'll carry Eb's head on a pike."
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Daddles, "I never thought of that! Do you suppose the keys to our cells are upstairs? I thought you were the only one to get anything by this,—I was resolving always to carry a banjo with me." ”