IX

And, indeed, it did seem vastly strange to lie there alongside Staten

Island all that day, with New York town in plain sight across the water

and yet so impossible to reach. For whether he desired to escape or no,

Barnaby True could not but observe that both he and the young lady were

so closely watched that they might as well have been prisoners, tied

hand and foot and laid in the hold, so far as any hope of getting away

was concerned.

Throughout that day there was a vast deal of mysterious coming and

going aboard the brigantine, and in the afternoon a sail-boat went up

to the town, carrying the Captain of the brigantine and a great load in

the stern covered over with a tarpaulin. What was so taken up to the

town Barnaby did not then guess, nor did he for a moment suspect of

what vast importance it was to be for him.

About sundown the small boat returned, fetching the pirate Captain of

the brigantine back again. Coming aboard and finding Barnaby on deck,

the other requested him to come down into the saloon for he had a few

serious words to say to him. In the saloon they found the young lady

sitting, the broad light of the evening shining in through the

skylight, and making it all pretty bright within.

The Captain commanded Barnaby to be seated, whereupon he chose a place

alongside the young lady. So soon as he had composed himself the

Captain began very seriously, with a preface somewhat thus: "Though you

may think me the Captain of this brigantine, Master Barnaby True, I am

not really so, but am under orders of a superior whom I have obeyed in

all these things that I have done." Having said so much as this, he

continued his address to say that there was one thing yet remaining for

him to do, and that the greatest thing of all.

He said that this was something that both Barnaby and the young lady

were to be called upon to perform, and he hoped that they would do

their part willingly; but that whether they did it willingly or no, do

it they must, for those also were the orders he had received.

You may guess how our hero was disturbed by this prologue. He had found

the young lady's hand beneath the table and he now held it very closely

in his own; but whatever might have been his expectations as to the

final purport of the communications the other was about to favor him

with, his most extreme expectations could not have equalled that which

was demanded of him.

"My orders are these," said his interlocutor, continuing: "I am to take

you and the young lady ashore, and to see that you are married before I

quit you, and to that end a very good, decent, honest minister who

lives ashore yonder in the village was chosen and hath been spoken to,

and is now, no doubt, waiting for you to come. That is the last thing I

am set to do; so now I will leave you and her young ladyship alone

together for five minutes to talk it over, but be quick about it, for

whether willing or not, this thing must be done."

Thereupon he incontinently went away, as he had promised, leaving those

two alone together, our hero like one turned into stone, and the young

lady, her face turned away, as red as fire, as Barnaby could easily

distinguish by the fading light.

Nor can I tell what Barnaby said to her, nor what words or arguments he

used, for so great was the distraction of his mind and the tumult of

his emotions that he presently discovered that he was repeating to her

over and over again that God knew he loved her, and that with all his

heart and soul, and that there was nothing in all the world for him but

her. After which, containing himself sufficiently to continue his

address, he told her that if she would not have it as the man had said,

and if she were not willing to marry him as she was bidden to do, he

would rather die a thousand, aye, ten thousand, deaths than lend

himself to forcing her to do such a thing as this. Nevertheless, he

told her she must speak up and tell him yes or no, and that God knew he

would give all the world if she would say "yes."

All this and much more he said in such a tumult that he was hardly

aware of what he was speaking, and she sitting there, as though her

breath stifled her. Nor did he know what she replied to him, only that

she would marry him. Therewith he took her into his arms and for the

first time set his lips to hers, in such a transport of ecstasy that

everything seemed to his sight as though he were about to swoon.

So when the Captain returned to the saloon he found Barnaby sitting

there holding her hand, she with her face turned away, and he so full

of joy that the promise of heaven could not have made him happier.

The yawl-boat belonging to the brigantine was ready and waiting

alongside when they came upon deck, and immediately they descended to

it and took their seats. Reaching the shore, they landed, and walked up

the village street in the twilight, she clinging to our hero's arm as

though she would faint away. The Captain of the brigantine and two

other men aboard accompanied them to the minister's house, where they

found the good man waiting for them, smoking his pipe in the warm

evening, and walking up and down in front of his own door. He

immediately conducted them into the house, where, his wife having

fetched a candle, and two others from the village being present, the

good, pious man having asked several questions as to their names and

their age and where they were from, and having added his blessing, the

ceremony was performed, and the certificate duly signed by those

present from the village--the men who had come ashore from the

brigantine alone refusing to set their hands to any paper.

The same sail-boat that had taken the Captain up to the town was

waiting for Barnaby and the young lady as they came down to the

landing-place. There the Captain of the brigantine having wished them

godspeed, and having shaken Barnaby very heartily by the hand, he

helped to push off the boat, which with the slant of the wind presently

sailed swiftly away, dropping the shore and those strange beings, and

the brigantine in which they sailed, alike behind them into the night.

They could hear through the darkness the creaking of the sails being

hoisted aboard of the pirate vessel; nor did Barnaby True ever set eyes

upon it or the crew again, nor, so far as the writer is informed, did

anybody else.

X

It was nigh midnight when they made Mr. Hartright's wharf at the foot

of Beaver Street. There Barnaby and the boatmen assisted the young lady

ashore, and our hero and she walked up through the now silent and

deserted street to Mr. Hartright's house.

You may conceive of the wonder and amazement of our hero's dear

step-father when aroused by Barnaby's continued knocking at the street

door, and clad in a dressing-gown and carrying a lighted candle in his

hand, he unlocked and unbarred the door, and so saw who it was had aroused

him at such an hour of the night, and beheld the young and beautiful

lady whom Barnaby had brought home with him.

The first thought of the good man was that the _Belle Helen_ had come

into port; nor did Barnaby undeceive him as he led the way into the

house, but waited until they were all safe and sound together before he

should unfold his strange and wonderful story.

"This was left for you by two foreign sailors this afternoon, Barnaby,"

the good man said, as he led the way through the hall, holding up the

candle at the same time, so that Barnaby might see an object that stood

against the wainscoting by the door of the dining-room.

It was with difficulty that our hero could believe his eyes when he

beheld one of the treasure-chests that Sir John Malyoe had fetched with

such particularity from Jamaica.

He bade his step-father hold the light nigher, and then, his mother

having come down-stairs by this time, he flung back the lid and

displayed to the dazzled sight of all the great treasure therein

contained.

You are to suppose that there was no sleep for any of them that night,

for what with Barnaby's narrative of his adventures, and what with the

thousand questions asked of him, it was broad daylight before he had

finished the half of all that he had to relate.

The next day but one brought the _Belle Helen_ herself into port, with

the terrible news not only of having been attacked at night by pirates,

but also that Sir John Malyoe was dead. For whether it was the sudden

fright that overset him, or whether it was the strain of passion that

burst some blood-vessel upon his brain, it is certain that when the

pirates quitted the _Belle Helen_, carrying with them the young lady

and Barnaby and the travelling-trunks, they left Sir John Malyoe lying

in a fit upon the floor, frothing at the mouth and black in the face,

as though he had been choked. It was in this condition that he was

raised and taken to his berth, where, the next morning about two

o'clock, he died, without once having opened his eyes or spoken a

single word.

As for the villain man-servant, no one ever saw him afterwards; though

whether he jumped overboard, or whether the pirates who so attacked the

ship had carried him away bodily, who shall say?

Mr. Hartright had been extremely perplexed as to the ownership of the

chest of treasure that had been left by those men for Barnaby, but the

news of the death of Sir John Malyoe made the matter very easy for him

to decide. For surely if that treasure did not belong to Barnaby, there

could be no doubt but that it belonged to his wife--she being Sir John

Malyoe's legal heir. Thus it was that he satisfied himself, and thus

that great fortune (in actual computation amounting to upward of

sixty-three thousand pounds) fell to Barnaby True, the grandson of that

famous pirate William Brand.

As for the other case of treasure, it was never heard of again, nor

could Barnaby decide whether it was divided as booty among the pirates,

or whether they had carried it away with them to some strange and

foreign land, there to share it among themselves.

It is thus we reach the conclusion of our history, with only this to

observe, that whether that strange appearance of Captain Brand was

indeed a ghostly and spiritual visitation, or whether he was present on

those two occasions in flesh and blood, he was, as has been said, never

heard of again.