"Now, Captain Scarrow, we must take our leave of you," said _The Dealings of Captain Sharkey, and Other Tales of Pirates

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THE DEALINGS OF CAPTAIN SHARKEY

_and Other Tales of Pirates_

BY A. CONAN DOYLE

NEW YORK

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

1914, 1918, 1919,

BY A. CONAN DOYLE

BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

BY ASSOCIATED SUNDAY MAGAZINES, INC.

BY THE MCCLURE COMPANY

BY THE S. S. MCCLURE COMPANY

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

TALES OF PIRATES

I CAPTAIN SHARKEY: HOW THE GOVERNOR OF SAINT KITT'S CAME HOME

II THE DEALINGS OF CAPTAIN SHARKEY WITH STEPHEN CRADDOCK

III THE BLIGHTING OF SHARKEY

IV HOW COPLEY BANKS SLEW CAPTAIN SHARKEY

V THE "SLAPPING SAL"

VI A PIRATE OF THE LAND (ONE CROWDED HOUR)

TALES OF BLUE WATER

VII THE STRIPED CHEST

VIII THE CAPTAIN OF THE "POLESTAR"

IX THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE

X JELLAND'S VOYAGE

XI J. HABAKUK JEPHSON'S STATEMENT

XII THAT LITTLE SQUARE BOX

THE DEALINGS OF CAPTAIN SHARKEY

_and Other Stories of Pirates_

TALES OF PIRATES

CAPTAIN SHARKEY: HOW THE GOVERNOR OF SAINT KITT'S CAME HOME

When the great wars of the Spanish Succession had been brought to an end

by the Treaty of Utrecht, the vast number of privateers which had been

fitted out by the contending parties found their occupation gone. Some

took to the more peaceful but less lucrative ways of ordinary commerce,

others were absorbed into the fishing-fleets, and a few of the more

reckless hoisted the Jolly Rodger at the mizzen and the bloody flag at

the main, declaring a private war upon their own account against the

whole human race.

With mixed crews, recruited from every nation they scoured the seas,

disappearing occasionally to careen in some lonely inlet, or putting in

for a debauch at some outlaying port, where they dazzled the inhabitants

by their lavishness and horrified them by their brutalities.

On the Coromandel Coast, at Madagascar, in the African waters, and above

all in the West Indian and American seas, the pirates were a constant

menace. With an insolent luxury they would regulate their depredations

by the comfort of the seasons, harrying New England in the summer and

dropping south again to the tropical islands in the winter.

They were the more to be dreaded because they had none of that

discipline and restraint which made their predecessors, the Buccaneers,

both formidable and respectable. These Ishmaels of the sea rendered an

account to no man, and treated their prisoners according to the drunken

whim of the moment. Flashes of grotesque generosity alternated with

longer stretches of inconceivable ferocity, and the skipper who fell

into their hands might find himself dismissed with his cargo, after

serving as boon companion in some hideous debauch, or might sit at his

cabin table with his own nose and his lips served up with pepper and

salt in front of him. It took a stout seaman in those days to ply his

calling in the Caribbean Gulf.

Such a man was Captain John Scarrow, of the ship _Morning Star_, and yet

he breathed a long sigh of relief when he heard the splash of the

falling anchor and swung at his moorings within a hundred yards of the

guns of the citadel of Basseterre. St. Kitt's was his final port of

call, and early next morning his bowsprit would be pointed for Old

England. He had had enough of those robber-haunted seas. Ever since he

had left Maracaibo upon the Main, with his full lading of sugar and red

pepper, he had winced at every topsail which glimmered over the violet

edge of the tropical sea. He had coasted up the Windward Islands,

touching here and there, and assailed continually by stories of villainy

and outrage.

Captain Sharkey, of the 20-gun pirate barque, _Happy Delivery_, had

passed down the coast, and had littered it with gutted vessels and with

murdered men. Dreadful anecdotes were current of his grim pleasantries

and of his inflexible ferocity. From the Bahamas to the Main his

coal-black barque, with the ambiguous name, had been freighted with

death and many things which are worse than death. So nervous was Captain

Scarrow, with his new full-rigged ship and her full and valuable lading,

that he struck out to the west as far as Bird's Island to be out of the

usual track of commerce. And yet even in those solitary waters he had

been unable to shake off sinister traces of Captain Sharkey.

One morning they had raised a single skiff adrift upon the face of the

ocean. Its only occupant was a delirious seaman, who yelled hoarsely as

they hoisted him aboard, and showed a dried-up tongue like a black and

wrinkled fungus at the back of his mouth. Water and nursing soon

transformed him into the strongest and smartest sailor on the ship. He

was from Marblehead, in New England, it seemed, and was the sole

survivor of a schooner which had been scuttled by the dreadful Sharkey.

For a week Hiram Evanson, for that was his name, had been adrift beneath

a tropical sun. Sharkey had ordered the mangled remains of his late

captain to be thrown into the boat, "as provisions for the voyage," but

the seaman had at once committed them to the deep, lest the temptation

should be more than he could bear. He had lived upon his own huge frame,

until, at the last moment, the _Morning Star_ had found him in that

madness which is the precursor of such a death. It was no bad find for

Captain Scarrow, for, with a short-handed crew, such a seaman as this

big New Englander was a prize worth having. He vowed that he was the

only man whom Captain Sharkey had ever placed under an obligation.

Now that they lay under the guns of Basseterre, all danger from the

pirate was at an end, and yet the thought of him lay heavily upon the

seaman's mind as he watched the agent's boat shooting out from the

custom-house quay.

"I'll lay you a wager, Morgan," said he to the first mate, "that the

agent will speak of Sharkey in the first hundred words that pass his

lips."

"Well, captain, I'll have you a silver dollar, and chance it," said the

rough old Bristol man beside him.

The negro rowers shot the boat alongside, and the linen-clad steersman

sprang up the ladder.

"Welcome, Captain Scarrow!" he cried. "Have you heard about Sharkey?"

The captain grinned at the mate.

"What devilry has he been up to now?" he asked.

"Devilry! You've not heard, then! Why, we've got him safe under lock and

key here at Basseterre. He was tried last Wednesday, and he is to be

hanged to-morrow morning."

Captain and mate gave a shout of joy, which an instant later was taken

up by the crew. Discipline was forgotten as they scrambled up through

the break of the poop to hear the news. The New Englander was in the

front of them with a radiant face turned up to heaven, for he came of

the Puritan stock.

"Sharkey to be hanged!" he cried. "You don't know, Master Agent, if they

lack a hangman, do you?"

"Stand back!" cried the mate, whose outraged sense of discipline was

even stronger than his interest at the news. "I'll pay that dollar,

Captain Scarrow, with the lightest heart that ever I paid a wager yet.

How came the villain to be taken?"

"Why, as to that, he became more than his own comrades could abide, and

they took such a horror of him that they would not have him on the ship.

So they marooned him upon the Little Mangles to the south of the

Mysteriosa Bank, and there he was found by a Portobello trader, who

brought him in. There was talk of sending him to Jamaica to be tried,

but our good little governor, Sir Charles Ewan, would not hear of it.

'He's my meat,' said he, 'and I claim the cooking of it.' If you can

stay till to-morrow morning at ten, you'll see the joint swinging."

"I wish I could," said the captain, wistfully, "but I am sadly behind

time now. I should start with the evening tide."

"That you can't do," said the agent with decision. "The Governor is

going back with you."

"The Governor!"

"Yes. He's had a dispatch from Government to return without delay. The

fly-boat that brought it has gone on to Virginia. So Sir Charles has

been waiting for you, as I told him you were due before the rains."

"Well, well!" cried the captain, in some perplexity, "I'm a plain

seaman, and I don't know much of governors and baronets and their ways.

I don't remember that I ever so much as spoke to one. But if it's in

King George's service, and he asks a cast in the _Morning Star_ as far

as London, I'll do what I can for him. There's my own cabin he can have

and welcome. As to the cooking, it's lobscouse and salmagundy six days

in the week; but he can bring his own cook aboard with him if he thinks

our galley too rough for his taste."

"You need not trouble your mind, Captain Scarrow," said the agent. "Sir

Charles is in weak health just now, only clear of a quartan ague, and it

is likely he will keep his cabin most of the voyage. Dr. Larousse said

that he would have sunk had the hanging of Sharkey not put fresh life

into him. He has a great spirit in him, though, and you must not blame

him if he is somewhat short in his speech."

"He may say what he likes and do what he likes so long as he does not

come athwart my hawse when I am working the ship," said the captain. "He

is Governor of St. Kitt's, but I am Governor of the _Morning Star_. And,

by his leave, I must weigh with the first tide, for I owe a duty to my

employer, just as he does to King George."

"He can scarce be ready to-night, for he has many things to set in order

before he leaves."

"The early morning tide, then."

"Very good. I shall send his things aboard to-night, and he will follow

them to-morrow early if I can prevail upon him to leave St. Kitt's

without seeing Sharkey do the rogue's hornpipe. His own orders were

instant, so it may be that he will come at once. It is likely that Dr.

Larousse may attend him upon the journey."

Left to themselves, the captain and mate made the best preparations

which they could for their illustrious passenger. The largest cabin was

turned out and adorned in his honour, and orders were given by which

barrels of fruit and some cases of wine should be brought off to vary

the plain food of an ocean-going trader. In the evening the Governor's

baggage began to arrive--great ironbound ant-proof trunks, and official

tin packing-cases, with other strange-shaped packages, which suggested

the cocked hat or the sword within. And then there came a note, with a

heraldic device upon the big red seal, to say that Sir Charles Ewan made

his compliments to Captain Scarrow, and that he hoped to be with him in

the morning as early as his duties and his infirmities would permit.

He was as good as his word, for the first grey of dawn had hardly begun

to deepen into pink when he was brought alongside, and climbed with some

difficulty up the ladder. The captain had heard that the Governor was an

eccentric, but he was hardly prepared for the curious figure who came

limping feebly down his quarter-deck, his steps supported by a thick

bamboo cane. He wore a Ramillies wig, all twisted into little tails like

a poodle's coat, and cut so low across the brow that the large green

glasses which covered his eyes looked as if they were hung from it. A

fierce beak of a nose, very long and very thin, cut the air in front of

him. His ague had caused him to swathe his throat and chin with a broad

linen cravat, and he wore a loose damask powdering-gown secured by a

cord round the waist. As he advanced he carried his masterful nose high

in the air, but his head turned slowly from side to side in the helpless

manner of the purblind, and he called in a high, querulous voice for the

captain.

"You have my things?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir Charles."

"Have you wine aboard?"

"I have ordered five cases, sir."

"And tobacco?"

"There is a keg of Trinidad."

"You play a hand at piquet?"

"Passably well, sir."

"Then up anchor, and to sea!"

There was a fresh westerly wind, so by the time the sun was fairly

through the morning haze, the ship was hull down from the islands. The

decrepit Governor still limped the deck, with one guiding hand upon the

quarter-rail.

"You are on Government service now, Captain," said he. "They are

counting the days till I come to Westminster, I promise you. Have you

all that she will carry?"

"Every inch, Sir Charles."

"Keep her so if you blow the sails out of her. I fear, Captain Scarrow,

that you will find a blind and broken man a poor companion for your

voyage."

"I am honoured in enjoying your Excellency's society," said the Captain.

"But I am sorry that your eyes should be so afflicted."

"Yes, indeed. It is the cursed glare of the sun on the white streets of

Basseterre which has gone far to burn them out."

"I had heard also that you had been plagued by a quartan ague."

"Yes; I have had a pyrexy, which has reduced me much."

"We had set aside a cabin for your surgeon."

"Ah, the rascal! There was no budging him, for he has a snug business

amongst the merchants. But hark!"

He raised his ring-covered hand in the air. From far astern there came

the low deep thunder of cannon.

"It is from the island!" cried the captain in astonishment. "Can it be a

signal for us to put back?"

The Governor laughed.

"You have heard that Sharkey, the pirate, is to be hanged this morning.

I ordered the batteries to salute when the rascal was kicking his last,

so that I might know of it out at sea. There's an end of Sharkey!"

"There's an end of Sharkey!" cried the captain; and the crew took up the

cry as they gathered in little knots upon the deck and stared back at

the low, purple line of the vanishing land.

It was a cheering omen for their start across the Western Ocean, and the

invalid Governor found himself a popular man on board, for it was

generally understood that but for his insistence upon an immediate trial

and sentence, the villain might have played upon some more venal judge

and so escaped. At dinner that day Sir Charles gave many anecdotes of

the deceased pirate; and so affable was he, and so skilful in adapting

his conversation to men of lower degree, that captain, mate, and

Governor smoked their long pipes and drank their claret as three good

comrades should.

"And what figure did Sharkey cut in the dock?" asked the captain.

"He is a man of some presence," said the Governor.

"I had always understood that he was an ugly, sneering devil," remarked

the mate.

"Well, I dare say he could look ugly upon occasions," said the Governor.

"I have heard a New Bedford whaleman say that he could not forget his

eyes," said Captain Scarrow. "They were of the lightest filmy blue, with

red-rimmed lids. Was that not so, Sir Charles?"

"Alas, my own eyes will not permit me to know much of those of others!

But I remember now that the Adjutant-General said that he had such an

eye as you describe, and added that the jury were so foolish as to be

visibly discomposed when it was turned upon them. It is well for them

that he is dead, for he was a man who would never forget an injury, and

if he had laid hands upon any one of them he would have stuffed him with

straw and hung him for a figure-head."

The idea seemed to amuse the Governor, for he broke suddenly into a

high, neighing laugh, and the two seamen laughed also, but not so

heartily, for they remembered that Sharkey was not the last pirate who

sailed the western seas, and that as grotesque a fate might come to be

their own. Another bottle was broached to drink to a pleasant voyage,

and the Governor would drink just one other on the top of it, so that

the seamen were glad at last to stagger off--the one to his watch and

the other to his bunk. But when after his four hours' spell the mate

came down again, he was amazed to see the Governor in his Ramillies wig,

his glasses, and his powdering-gown still seated sedately at the lonely

table with his reeking pipe and six black bottles by his side.

"I have drunk with the Governor of St. Kitt's when he was sick," said

he, "and God forbid that I should ever try to keep pace with him when he

is well."

The voyage of the _Morning Star_ was a successful one, and in about

three weeks she was at the mouth of the British Channel. From the first

day the infirm Governor had begun to recover his strength, and before

they were half-way across the Atlantic he was, save only for his eyes,

as well as any man upon the ship. Those who uphold the nourishing

qualities of wine might point to him in triumph, for never a night

passed that he did not repeat the performance of his first one. And yet

he would be out upon deck in the early morning as fresh and brisk as the

best of them, peering about with his weak eyes, and asking questions

about the sails and the rigging, for he was anxious to learn the ways of

the sea. And he made up for the deficiency of his eyes by obtaining

leave from the captain that the New England seaman--he who had been cast

away in the boat--should lead him about, and above all that he should

sit beside him when he played cards and count the number of the pips,

for unaided he could not tell the king from the knave.

It was natural that this Evanson should do the Governor willing service,

since the one was the victim of the vile Sharkey, and the other was his

avenger. One could see that it was a pleasure to the big American to

lend his arm to the invalid, and at night he would stand with all

respect behind his chair in the cabin and lay his great stub-nailed

forefinger upon the card which he should play. Between them there was

little in the pockets either of Captain Scarrow or of Morgan, the first

mate, by the time they sighted the Lizard.

And it was not long before they found that all they had heard of the

high temper of Sir Charles Ewan fell short of the mark. At a sign of

opposition or a word of argument his chin would shoot out from his

cravat, his masterful nose would be cocked at a higher and more insolent

angle, and his bamboo cane would whistle up over his shoulder. He

cracked it once over the head of the carpenter when the man had

accidentally jostled him upon the deck. Once, too, when there was some

grumbling and talk of a mutiny over the state of the provisions, he was

of opinion that they should not wait for the dogs to rise, but that they

should march forward and set upon them until they had trounced the

devilment out of them. "Give me a knife and a bucket!" he cried with an

oath, and could hardly be withheld from setting forth alone to deal with

the spokesman of the seamen.

Captain Scarrow had to remind him that though he might be only

answerable to himself at St. Kitt's, killing became murder upon the high

seas. In politics he was, as became his official position, a stout prop

of the House of Hanover, and he swore in his cups that he had never met

a Jacobite without pistolling him where he stood. Yet for all his

vapouring and his violence he was so good a companion, with such a

stream of strange anecdote and reminiscence, that Scarrow and Morgan had

never known a voyage pass so pleasantly.

And then at length came the last day, when, after passing the island,

they had struck land again at the high white cliffs at Beachy Head. As

evening fell the ship lay rolling in an oily calm, a league off from

Winchelsea, with the long dark snout of Dungeness jutting out in front

of her. Next morning they would pick up their pilot at the Foreland, and

Sir Charles might meet the king's ministers at Westminster before the

evening. The boatswain had the watch, and the three friends were met for

a last turn of cards in the cabin, the faithful American still serving

as eyes to the Governor. There was a good stake upon the table, for the

sailors had tried on this last night to win their losses back from their

passenger. Suddenly he threw his cards down, and swept all the money

into the pocket of his long-flapped silken waistcoat.

"The game's mine!" said he.

"Heh, Sir Charles, not so fast!" cried Captain Scarrow; "you have not

played out the hand, and we are not the losers."

"Sink you for a liar!" said the Governor. "I tell you that I _have_

played out the hand, and that you _are_ a loser." He whipped off his wig

and his glasses as he spoke, and there was a high, bald forehead, and a

pair of shifty blue eyes with the red rims of a bull terrier.

"Good God!" cried the mate. "It's Sharkey!"

The two sailors sprang from their seats, but the big American castaway

had put his huge back against the cabin door, and he held a pistol in

each of his hands. The passenger had also laid a pistol upon the

scattered cards in front of him, and he burst into his high, neighing

laugh.

"Captain Sharkey is the name, gentlemen," said he, "and this is Roaring

Ned Galloway, the quartermaster of the _Happy Delivery_. We made it

hot, and so they marooned us: me on a dry Tortuga cay, and him in an

oarless boat. You dogs--you poor, fond, water-hearted dogs--we hold you

at the end of our pistols!"

"You may shoot, or you may not!" cried Scarrow, striking his hand upon

the breast of his frieze jacket. "If it's my last breath, Sharkey, I

tell you that you are a bloody rogue and miscreant, with a halter and

hell-fire in store for you!"

"There's a man of spirit, and one of my own kidney, and he's going to

make a very pretty death of it!" cried Sharkey. "There's no one aft save

the man at the wheel, so you may keep your breath, for you'll need it

soon. Is the dinghy astern, Ned?"

"Ay, ay, captain!"

"And the other boats scuttled?"

"I bored them all in three places."

"Then we shall have to leave you, Captain Scarrow. You look as if you

hadn't quite got your bearings yet. Is there anything you'd like to ask

me?"

"I believe you're the devil himself!" cried the captain. "Where is the

Governor of St. Kitt's?"

"When last I saw him his Excellency was in bed with his throat cut. When

I broke prison I learnt from my friends--for Captain Sharkey has those

who love him in every port--that the Governor was starting for Europe

under a master who had never seen him. I climbed his verandah and I paid

him the little debt that I owed him. Then I came aboard you with such of

his things as I had need of, and a pair of glasses to hide these

tell-tale eyes of mine, and I have ruffled it as a governor should.

Now, Ned, you can get to work upon them."

"Help! Help! Watch ahoy!" yelled the mate; but the butt of the pirate's

pistol crashed down on to his head, and he dropped like a pithed ox.

Scarrow rushed for the door, but the sentinel clapped his hand over his

mouth, and threw his other arm round his waist.

"No use, Master Scarrow," said Sharkey. "Let us see you go down on your

knees and beg for your life."

"I'll see you----" cried Scarrow, shaking his mouth clear.

"Twist his arm round, Ned. Now will you?"

"No; not if you twist it off."

"Put an inch of your knife into him."

"You may put six inches, and then I won't."

"Sink me, but I like his spirit!" cried Sharkey. "Put your knife in your

pocket, Ned. You've saved your skin, Scarrow, and it's a pity so stout a

man should not take to the only trade where a pretty fellow can pick up

a living. You must be born for no common death, Scarrow, since you have

lain at my mercy and lived to tell the story. Tie him up, Ned."

"To the stove, captain?"

"Tut, tut! there's a fire in the stove. None of your rover tricks, Ned

Galloway, unless they are called for, or I'll let you know which of us

two is captain and which is quartermaster. Make him fast to the table.

"Nay, I thought you meant to roast him!" said the quartermaster. "You

surely do not mean to let him go?"

"If you and I were marooned on a Bahama cay, Ned Galloway, it is still

for me to command and for you to obey. Sink you for a villain, do you

dare to question my orders?"

"Nay, nay, Captain Sharkey, not so hot, sir!" said the quartermaster,

and, lifting Scarrow like a child, he laid him on the table. With the

quick dexterity of a seaman, he tied his spreadeagled hands and feet

with a rope which was passed underneath, and gagged him securely with

the long cravat which used to adorn the chin of the Governor of St.

Kitt's.

"Now, Captain Scarrow, we must take our leave of you," said the pirate.

"If I had half a dozen of my brisk boys at my heels I should have had

your cargo and your ship, but Roaring Ned could not find a foremast hand

with the spirit of a mouse. I see there are some small craft about, and

we shall get one of them. When Captain Sharkey has a boat he can get a

smack, when he has a smack he can get a brig, when he has a brig he can

get a barque, and when he has a barque he'll soon have a full-rigged

ship of his own--so make haste into London town, or I may be coming

back, after all, for the _Morning Star_."

Captain Scarrow heard the key turn in the lock as they left the cabin.

Then, as he strained at his bonds, he heard their foot-steps pass up the

companion and along the quarter-deck to where the dinghy hung in the

stern. Then, still struggling and writhing, he heard the creak of the

falls and the splash of the boat in the water. In a mad fury he tore and

dragged at his ropes, until at last, with flayed wrists and ankles, he

rolled from the table, sprang over the dead mate, kicked his way through

the closed door, and rushed hatless on to the deck.

"Ahoy! Peterson, Armitage, Wilson!" he screamed. "Cutlasses and pistols!

Clear away the long-boat! Clear away the gig! Sharkey, the pirate, is in

yonder dinghy. Whistle up the larboard watch, bo'sun, and tumble into

the boats all hands."

Down splashed the long-boat and down splashed the gig, but in an instant

the coxswains and crews were swarming up the falls on to the deck once

more.

"The boats are scuttled!" they cried. "They are leaking like a sieve."

The captain gave a bitter curse. He had been beaten and outwitted at

every point. Above was a cloudless, starlit sky, with neither wind nor

the promise of it. The sails flapped idly in the moonlight. Far away lay

a fishing-smack, with the men clustering over their net.

Close to them was the little dinghy, dipping and lifting over the

shining swell.

"They are dead men!" cried the captain. "A shout all together, boys, to

warn them of their danger."

But it was too late.

At that very moment the dinghy shot into the shadow of the fishing-boat.

There were two rapid pistol-shots, a scream, and then another

pistol-shot, followed by silence. The clustering fishermen had

disappeared. And then, suddenly, as the first puffs of a land-breeze

came out from the Sussex shore, the boom swung out, the mainsail filled,

and the little craft crept out with her nose to the Atlantic.

THE DEALINGS OF CAPTAIN SHARKEY WITH STEPHEN CRADDOCK

Careening was a very necessary operation for the old pirate. On his

superior speed he depended both for overhauling the trader and escaping

the man-of-war. But it was impossible to retain his sailing qualities

unless he periodically--once a year, at the least--cleared his vessel's

bottom from the long, trailing plants and crusting barnacles which

gather so rapidly in the tropical seas.

For this purpose he lightened his vessel, thrust her into some narrow

inlet where she would be left high and dry at low water, fastened blocks

and tackles to her masts to pull her over on to her bilge, and then

scraped her thoroughly from rudder-post to cutwater.

During the weeks which were thus occupied the ship was, of course,

defenceless; but, on the other hand, she was unapproachable by anything

heavier than an empty hull, and the place for careening was chosen with

an eye to secrecy, so that there was no great danger.

So secure did the captains feel, that it was not uncommon for them, at

such times, to leave their ships under a sufficient guard and to start

off in the long-boat, either upon a sporting expedition or, more

frequently, upon a visit to some outlying town, where they turned the

heads of the women by their swaggering gallantry, or broached pipes of

wine in the market square, with a threat to pistol all who would not

drink with them.

Sometimes they would even appear in cities of the size of Charleston,

and walk the streets with their clattering sidearms--an open scandal to

the whole law-abiding colony. Such visits were not always paid with

impunity. It was one of them, for example, which provoked Lieutenant

Maynard to hack off Blackbeard's head, and to spear it upon the end of

his bowsprit. But, as a rule, the pirate ruffled and bullied and drabbed

without let or hindrance, until it was time for him to go back to his

ship once more.

There was one pirate, however, who never crossed even the skirts of

civilisation, and that was the sinister Sharkey, of the barque _Happy

Delivery_. It may have been from his morose and solitary temper, or, as

is more probable, that he knew that his name upon the coast was such

that outraged humanity would, against all odds, have thrown themselves

upon him, but never once did he show his face in a settlement.

When his ship was laid up he would leave her under the charge of Ned

Galloway--her New England quartermaster--and would take long voyages in

his boat, sometimes, it was said, for the purpose of burying his share

of the plunder, and sometimes to shoot the wild oxen of Hispaniola,

which, when dressed and barbecued, provided provisions for his next

voyage. In the latter case the barque would come round to some

pre-arranged spot to pick him up and take on board what he had shot.

There had always been a hope in the islands that Sharkey might be taken

on one of these occasions; and at last there came news to Kingston which

seemed to justify an attempt upon him. It was brought by an elderly

logwood-cutter who had fallen into the pirate's hands, and in some freak

of drunken benevolence had been allowed to get away with nothing worse

than a slit nose and a drubbing. His account was recent and definite.

The _Happy Delivery_ was careening at Torbec on the south-west of

Hispaniola. Sharkey, with four men, was buccaneering on the outlying

island of La Vache. The blood of a hundred murdered crews was calling

out for vengeance, and now at last it seemed as if it might not call in

vain.

Sir Edward Compton, the high-nosed, red-faced Governor, sitting in

solemn conclave with the commandant and the head of the council, was

sorely puzzled in his mind as to how he should use his chance. There was

no man-of-war nearer than Jamestown, and she was a clumsy old fly-boat,

which could neither overhaul the pirate on the seas, nor reach her in a

shallow inlet. There were forts and artillerymen both at Kingston and

Port Royal, but no soldiers available for an expedition.

A private venture might be fitted out--and there were many who had a

blood-feud with Sharkey--but what could a private venture do? The

pirates were numerous and desperate. As to taking Sharkey and his four

companions, that, of course, would be easy if they could get at them;

but how were they to get at them on a large well-wooded island like La

Vache, full of wild hills and impenetrable jungles? A reward was offered

to whoever could find a solution, and that brought a man to the front

who had a singular plan, and was himself prepared to carry it out.

Stephen Craddock had been that most formidable person, the Puritan gone

wrong. Sprung from a decent Salem family, his ill-doing seemed to be a

recoil from the austerity of their religion, and he brought to vice all

the physical strength and energy with which the virtues of his ancestors

had endowed him. He was ingenious, fearless, and exceedingly tenacious

of purpose, so that when he was still young his name became notorious

upon the American coast.

He was the same Craddock who was tried for his life in Virginia for the

slaying of the Seminole Chief, and, though he escaped, it was well known

that he had corrupted the witnesses and bribed the judge.

Afterwards, as a slaver, and even, as it was hinted, as a pirate, he had

left an evil name behind him in the Bight of Benin. Finally he had

returned to Jamaica with a considerable fortune, and had settled down to

a life of sombre dissipation. This was the man, gaunt, austere, and

dangerous, who now waited upon the Governor with a plan for the

extirpation of Sharkey.

Sir Edward received him with little enthusiasm, for in spite of some

rumours of conversion and reformation, he had always regarded him as an

infected sheep who might taint the whole of his little flock. Craddock

saw the Governor's mistrust under his thin veil of formal and restrained

courtesy.

"You've no call to fear me, sir," said he; "I'm a changed man from what

you've known. I've seen the light again, of late, after losing sight of

it for many a black year. It was through the ministration of the Rev.

John Simons, of our own people. Sir, if your spirit should be in need

of quickening, you would find a very sweet savour in his discourse."

The Governor cocked his Episcopalian nose at him.

"You came here to speak of Sharkey, Master Craddock," said he.

"The man Sharkey is a vessel of wrath," said Craddock. "His wicked horn

has been exalted over long, and it is borne in upon me that if I can cut

him off and utterly destroy him, it will be a goodly deed, and one which

may atone for many backslidings in the past. A plan has been given to me

whereby I may encompass his destruction."

The Governor was keenly interested, for there was a grim and practical

air about the man's freckled face which showed that he was in earnest.

After all, he was a seaman and a fighter, and, if it were true that he

was eager to atone for his past, no better man could be chosen for the

business.

"This will be a dangerous task, Master Craddock," said he.

"If I meet my death at it, it may be that it will cleanse the memory of

an ill-spent life. I have much to atone for."

The Governor did not see his way to contradict him.

"What was your plan?" he asked.

"You have heard that Sharkey's barque, the _Happy Delivery_, came from

this very port of Kingston?"

"It belonged to Mr. Codrington, and it was taken by Sharkey, who

scuttled his own sloop and moved into her because she was faster," said

Sir Edward.

"Yes; but it may be that you have never heard that Mr. Codrington has a

sister ship, the _White Rose_, which lies even now in the harbour, and

which is so like the pirate, that, if it were not for a white paint

line, none could tell them apart."

"Ah! and what of that?" asked the Governor keenly, with the air of one

who is just on the edge of an idea.

"By the help of it this man shall be delivered into our hands."

"And how?"

"I will paint out the streak upon the _White Rose_, and make it in all

things like the _Happy Delivery_. Then I will set sail for the Island of

La Vache, where this man is slaying the wild oxen. When he sees me he

will surely mistake me for his own vessel which he is awaiting, and he

will come on board to his own undoing."

It was a simple plan, and yet it seemed to the Governor that it might be

effective. Without hesitation he gave Craddock permission to carry it

out, and to take any steps he liked in order to further the object which

he had in view. Sir Edward was not very sanguine, for many attempts had

been made upon Sharkey, and their results had shown, that he was as

cunning as he was ruthless. But this gaunt Puritan with the evil record

was cunning and ruthless also.

The contest of wits between two such men as Sharkey and Craddock

appealed to the Governor's acute sense of sport, and though he was

inwardly convinced that the chances were against him, he backed his man

with the same loyalty which he would have shown to his horse or his

cock.

Haste was, above all things, necessary, for upon any day the careening

might be finished, and the pirates out at sea once more. But there was

not very much to do, and there were many willing hands to do it, so the

second day saw the _White Rose_ beating out for the open sea. There were

many seamen in the port who knew the lines and rig of the pirate barque,

and not one of them could see the slightest difference in this

counterfeit. Her white side line had been painted out, her masts and

yards were smoked, to give them the dingy appearance of the

weather-beaten rover, and a large diamond shaped patch was let into her

fore-topsail.

Her crew were volunteers, many of them being men who had sailed with

Stephen Craddock before--the mate, Joshua Hird, an old slaver, had been

his accomplice in many voyages, and came now at the bidding of his

chief.

The avenging barque sped across the Caribbean Sea, and, at the sight of

that patched topsail, the little craft which they met flew left and

right like frightened trout in a pool. On the fourth evening Point

Abacou bore five miles to the north and east of them.

On the fifth they were at anchor in the Bay of Tortoises at the Island

of La Vache, where Sharkey and his four men had been hunting. It was a

well-wooded place, with the palms and underwood growing down to the thin

crescent of silver sand which skirted the shore. They had hoisted the

black flag and the red pennant, but no answer came from the shore.

Craddock strained his eyes, hoping every instant to see a boat shoot out

to them with Sharkey seated in the sheets. But the night passed away,

and a day and yet another night, without any sign of the men whom they

were endeavouring to trap. It looked as if they were already gone.

On the second morning Craddock went ashore in search of some proof

whether Sharkey and his men were still upon the island. What he found

reassured him greatly. Close to the shore was a boucan of green wood,

such as was used for preserving the meat, and a great store of barbecued

strips of ox-flesh was hung upon lines all round it. The pirate ship had

not taken off her provisions, and therefore the hunters were still upon

the island.

Why had they not shown themselves? Was it that they had detected that

this was not their own ship? Or was it that they were hunting in the

interior of the island, and were not on the lookout for a ship yet?

Craddock was still hesitating between the two alternatives, when a Carib

Indian came down with information. The pirates were in the island, he

said, and their camp was a day's march from the sea. They had stolen his

wife, and the marks of their stripes were still pink upon his brown

back. Their enemies were his friends, and he would lead them to where

they lay.

Craddock could not have asked for anything better; so early next

morning, with a small party armed to the teeth, he set off under the

guidance of the Carib. All day they struggled through brushwood and

clambered over rocks, pushing their way further and further into the

desolate heart of the island. Here and there they found traces of the

hunters, the bones of a slain ox, or the marks of feet in a morass, and

once, towards evening, it seemed to some of them that they heard the

distant rattle of guns.

That night they spent under the trees, and pushed on again with the

earliest light. About noon they came to the huts of bark, which, the

Carib told them, were the camp of the hunters, but they were silent and

deserted. No doubt their occupants were away at the hunt and would

return in the evening, so Craddock and his men lay in ambush in the

brushwood around them. But no one came, and another night was spent in

the forest. Nothing more could be done, and it seemed to Craddock that

after the two days' absence it was time that he returned to his ship

once more.

The return journey was less difficult, as they had already blazed a path

for themselves. Before evening they found themselves once more at the

Bay of Palms, and saw their ship riding at anchor where they had left

her. Their boat and oars had been hauled up among the bushes, so they

launched it and pulled out to the barque.

"No luck, then!" cried Joshua Hird, the mate, looking down with a pale

face from the poop.

"His camp was empty, but he may come down to us yet," said Craddock,

with his hand on the ladder.

Somebody upon deck began to laugh. "I think," said the mate, "that these

men had better stay in the boat."

"Why so?"

"If you will come aboard, sir, you will understand it." He spoke in a

curious hesitating fashion.

The blood flushed to Craddock's gaunt face.

"How is this, Master Hird?" he cried, springing up the side. "What mean

you by giving orders to my boat's crew?"

But as he passed over the bulwarks, with one foot upon the deck and one

knee upon the rail, a tow-bearded man, whom he had never before observed

aboard his vessel, grabbed suddenly at his pistol. Craddock clutched at

the fellow's wrist, but at the same instant his mate snatched the

cutlass from his side.

"What roguery is this?" shouted Craddock looking furiously around him.

But the crew stood in little knots about the deck, laughing and

whispering amongst themselves without showing any desire to go to his

assistance. Even in that hurried glance Craddock noticed that they were

dressed in the most singular manner, with long riding-coats,

full-skirted velvet gowns and coloured ribands at their knees, more like

men of fashion than seamen.

As he looked at their grotesque figures he struck his brow with his

clenched fist to be sure that he was awake. The deck seemed to be much

dirtier than when he had left it, and there were strange, sun-blackened

faces turned upon him from every side. Not one of them did he know save

only Joshua Hird. Had the ship been captured in his absence? Were these

Sharkey's men who were around him? At the thought he broke furiously

away and tried to climb over to his boat, but a dozen hands were on him

in an instant, and he was pushed aft through the open door of his own

cabin.

And it was all different from the cabin which he had left. The floor was

different, the ceiling was different, the furniture was different. His

had been plain and austere. This was sumptuous and yet dirty, hung with

rare velvet curtains splashed with wine-stains, and panelled with costly

woods which were pocked with pistol-marks.

On the table was a great chart of the Caribbean Sea, and beside it, with

compasses in his hand, sat a clean-shaven, pale-faced man with a fur cap

and a claret-coloured coat of damask. Craddock turned white under his

freckles as he looked upon the long, thin, high-nostrilled nose and the

red-rimmed eyes which were turned upon him with the fixed, humorous gaze

of the master player who has left his opponent without a move.

"Sharkey?" cried Craddock.

Sharkey's thin lips opened and he broke into his high, sniggering laugh.

"You fool!" he cried, and, leaning over, he stabbed Craddock's shoulder

again and again with his compasses. "You poor, dull-witted fool, would

you match yourself against me?"

It was not the pain of the wounds, but it was the contempt in Sharkey's

voice which turned Craddock into a savage madman. He flew at the pirate,

roaring with rage, striking, kicking, writhing, and foaming. It took six

men to drag him down on to the floor amidst the splintered remains of

the table--and not one of the six who did not bear the prisoner's mark

upon him. But Sharkey still surveyed him with the same contemptuous eye.

From outside there came the crash of breaking wood and the clamour of

startled voices.

"What is that?" asked Sharkey.

"They have stove the boat with cold shot, and the men are in the water."

"Let them stay there," said the pirate. "Now, Craddock, you know where

you are. You are aboard my ship the _Happy Delivery_, and you lie at my

mercy. I knew you for a stout seaman, you rogue, before you took to this

long-shore canting. Your hands then were no cleaner than my own. Will

you sign articles, as your mate has done, and join us, or shall I heave

you over to follow your ship's company?"

"Where is my ship?" asked Craddock.

"Scuttled in the bay."

"And the hands?"

"In the bay, too."

"Hock him and heave him over," said Sharkey.

Many rough hands had dragged Craddock out upon deck, and Galloway, the

quartermaster, had already drawn his hangar to cripple him, when Sharkey

came hurrying from his cabin with an eager face.

"We can do better with the hound!" he cried. "Sink me if it is not a

rare plan. Throw him into the sail-room with the irons on, and do you

come here, quartermaster, that I may tell you what I have in my mind."

So Craddock, bruised and wounded in soul and body, was thrown into the

dark sail-room, so fettered that he could not stir hand or foot, but his

Northern blood was running strong in his veins, and his grim spirit

aspired only to make such an ending as might go some way towards atoning

for the evil of his life. All night he lay in the curve of the bilge

listening to the rush of the water and the straining of the timbers

which told him that the ship was at sea, and driving fast. In the early

morning some one came crawling to him in the darkness over the heaps of

sails.

"Here's rum and biscuits," said the voice of his late mate. "It's at the

risk of my life, Master Craddock, that I bring them to you."

"It was you who trapped me and caught me as in a snare!" cried Craddock.

"How shall you answer for what you have done?"

"What I did I did with the point of a knife betwixt my blade-bones."

"God forgive you for a coward, Joshua Hird. How came you into their

hands?"

"Why, Master Craddock, the pirate ship came back from its careening upon

the very day that you left us. They laid us aboard, and, short-handed as

we were, with the best of the men ashore with you, we could offer but a

poor defence. Some were cut down, and they were the happiest. The others

were killed afterwards. As to me, I saved my life by signing on with

them."

"And they scuttled my ship?"

"They scuttled her, and then Sharkey and his men, who had been watching

us from the brushwood, came off to the ship. His main-yard had been

cracked and fished last voyage, so he had suspicions of us, seeing that

ours was whole. Then he thought of laying the same trap for you which

you had set for him."

Craddock groaned.

"How came I not to see that fished main-yard?" he muttered. "But whither

are we bound?"

"We are running north and west."

"North and west! Then we are heading back towards Jamaica."

"With an eight-knot wind."

"Have you heard what they mean to do with me?"

"I have not heard. If you would but sign the articles----"

"Enough, Joshua Hird! I have risked my soul too often."

"As you wish! I have done what I could. Farewell!"

All that night and the next day the _Happy Delivery_ ran before the

easterly trades, and Stephen Craddock lay in the dark of the sail-room

working patiently at his wrist-irons. One he had slipped off at the cost

of a row of broken and bleeding knuckles, but, do what he would, he

could not free the other, and his ankles were securely fastened.

From hour to hour he heard the swish of the water, and knew that the

barque must be driving with all set, in front of the trade wind. In that

case they must be nearly back again to Jamaica by now. What plan could

Sharkey have in his head, and what use did he hope to make of him?

Craddock set his teeth, and vowed that if he had once been a villain

from choice he would, at least, never be one by compulsion.

On the second morning Craddock became aware that sail had been reduced

in the vessel, and that she was tacking slowly, with a light breeze on

her beam. The varying slope of the sail-room and the sounds from the

deck told his practised senses exactly what she was doing. The short

reaches showed him that she was manoeuvring near shore, and making for

some definite point. If so, she must have reached Jamaica. But what

could she be doing there?

And then suddenly there was a burst of hearty cheering from the deck,

and then the crash of a gun above his head, and then the answering

booming of guns from far over the water. Craddock sat up and strained

his ears. Was the ship in action? Only the one gun had been fired, and

though many had answered there were none of the crashings which told of

a shot coming home.

Then, if it was not an action, it must be a salute. But who would salute

Sharkey, the pirate? It could only be another pirate ship which would do

so. So Craddock lay back again with a groan, and continued to work at

the manacle which still held his right wrist.

But suddenly there came the shuffling of steps outside, and he had

hardly time to wrap the loose links round his free hand, when the door

was unbolted and two pirates came in.

"Got your hammer, carpenter?" asked one, whom Craddock recognised as the

big quartermaster. "Knock off his leg shackles, then. Better leave the

bracelets--he's safer with them on."

With hammer and chisel the carpenter loosened the irons.

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Craddock.

"Come on deck and you'll see."

The sailor seized him by the arm and dragged him roughly to the foot of

the companion. Above him was a square of blue sky cut across by the

mizzen gaff with the colours flying at the peak. But it was the sight of

those colours which struck the breath from Stephen Craddock's lips. For

there were two of them, and the British ensign was flying above the

Jolly Rodger--the honest flag above that of the rogue.