CHAPTER XVIII
THE OLD BUCCANEER IS LOYAL
SORROW mingled with rejoicing when the _King George_ brigantine sailedinto Charles Town harbor. The sea fight off Cherokee Inlet had taken aheavy toll of brave seamen and there were vacant chairs and achinghearts ashore, but the fiendish Blackbeard had been blotted out andwould no more harry the coast. Small and rude as was this pioneersettlement, it was most fair and attractive to the eyes of young MasterCockrell and Joe Hawkridge. In the house of Uncle Peter Forbes theyrested at their ease and planned sedate careers for themselves.
Even the treasure ceased to be uppermost in their lively discussions. Itcould wait a while. They were no longer under the spell of itsinfluence. This different world in which they now dwelt so contentedlymade their adventures seem like shadowy figments with precious littleromance in them. And neither lad expressed any great anxiety to goexploring the noisome Cherokee swamp and to challenge the ghost ofBlackbeard.
Without a sign of rebellion, Jack returned to his books and lessons inParson Throckmorton's garden. The learning already acquired he began topass on to Joe Hawkridge, who was a zealous pupil and determined toread and write and cipher without letting the grass grow under his feet.It was this young pirate's ambition to make a shipping merchant ofhimself, and Councilor Forbes found him employment in a warehouse wherethe planters traded their rice, resin, and indigo for the variedmerchandise brought out from England. Jack aspired to manage his uncle'splantation and to acquire lands of his own and some day to sit in theGovernor's Council.
Of a Sunday morning he went to the little English church, dressed in hisbest and using a cane, for he limped from the wound in his thigh. JoeHawkridge walked with him, careful to banish his grin, and sat in theCouncilor's pew where he paid proper attention to the prayers andresponses. This caused some gossip but the ocean waif was winning hisway to favor by dint of industry, a shrewd wit, and his perennial goodhumor.
Frequently they escorted fair Dorothy Stuart home from church. She wasfonder than ever of stalwart Master Cockrell because the colonel hadtold her he would have been a dead man had not the lad intervened tosave him from the stroke of a negro pirate. Alas, however, it was notthat sentimental devotion for which the lovelorn Jack yearned, and heconfided to Joe that his existence was blighted. This evoked no sympathyfrom the fickle Hawkridge, who was forgetting his black-eyed lass in theAzores and was already a slave to Dorothy Stuart. She laughed at themboth and was their true friend, tender, and whimsical and anxious fortheir welfare. It was a valuable chapter in their education.
One morning while Joe was at work in the warehouse near the harbor, heheard a commotion in the street and was about to run out when hisemployer came in and explained:
"Two pirates captured,--just as I happened to pass. The knaves landedfrom a boat in broad daylight, unaware that Charles Town has mended itsloose habit toward such gentry."
"What will be done with 'em?" quickly asked Joe, with an unhappypremonition.
"They were recognized as two of Stede Bonnet's old hands that used toresort to the tavern. Soldiers of the Governor's guard have been sentfor to drag them to the gaol."
Joe hastened out but slackened his pace to lag behind the crowd ofidlers who were jostling the prisoners along with hoots and jeers. Yes,there was the tall, gaunt frame and gray head of old Trimble Rogerswhose mien was so forbidding and masterful that the mob forbore tohandle him too roughly, unarmed though he was. At his elbow trudgedchubby Bill Saxby, gazing about him with those wide blue eyes in whichwas not a trace of guile. Joe realized that for him to intercede wouldmake matters worse. He was a reformed pirate on probation and was knownto have sailed with Blackbeard himself.
Therefore he darted into another street and sped to find Jack Cockrell,who chanced to be at home. They rushed into the room where Uncle PeterForbes was writing at his desk and informed him that their two staunchcomrades had come ashore to find them and were already in custody andsomething must be done to save them from the wrath of Governor Johnson,who had a mortal distaste for pirates still at large. The Councilorcalmed the perturbation by assuring them:
"I have already spoken to His Excellency in behalf of these two menshould they appear in this port. He was not wholly pleased but promisedclemency should they offer to repent and if I gave surety for thepledge."
"They will be ready to live as respectable as Joe," impetuously declaredMaster Cockrell. "I'll go bail on it. Bill Saxby is a tradesman bynature and if you will lend him enough money to set himself up as alinen-draper and haberdasher, Uncle Peter, he can live happily everafter."
"And old Trimble Rogers has sailed his last cruise under the JollyRoger, Councilor," put in Joe Hawkridge. "His timbers are full o' dryrot and he seeks a safe mooring."
"There seems no end to the bad company you drag me into," quoth UnclePeter. "My hat and broadcloth cloak, Jack, and let us fare to the gaoland see what these awkward visitors have to say. After that I willattend upon the Governor."
In better spirits the anxious lads followed the dignified Secretary ofthe Council to the strongly built gaol on the edge of the town. In avery gloomy cell behind iron bars they found the luckless brace ofpirates, shackled hand and foot. Bill Saxby took it like a placidphilosopher but the ancient buccaneer was spitting Spanish oaths andcondemning the hospitality of Charles Town in violent terms. He quietedinstantly at sight of his young friends and the harsh, wrinkled visagefairly beamed as he shouted:
"Our _camaradas_, Bill. Here they be, to haul us out of this filthyhole! I forgive the unmannerly folks that allus used to welcome us."
They shook hands through the bars while Uncle Peter stood aside. He feltthat his official station forbade his joining this fraternal reunion. Inthe narrow corridor he chatted with the gaoler to pass the time whileBill Saxby was explaining to the lads:
"We was in duty bound, in a manner of speakin', to run you down as soonas possible and make a report. Eh, Trimble?"
"Aye, Bill, to see what was to be done about the treasure. We wouldn'thave 'em think we had run off with it. D'ye see, Master Cockrell, me andBill took Cap'n Bonnet into our confidence. He is an honorable man andto be mentioned along with the great Cap'n Ed'ard Davis what I wasshipmates with in the South Sea and at the sack of----"
"Stow it, grandsire," cried Bill. "I don't want to linger in gaol whileyou spin that long-winded yarn. Tell the lads what they want to know."
"If I weren't chained to the wall, Bill, I'd put my fist in your eye,"severely retorted the veteran. "As I was a-sayin', Cap'n Bonnet was allcourtesy and allowed the treasure belonged to us and he was ready tohelp find it."
"We told him we had to join up with our gentleman partner, MasterCockrell, and win his consent," said Bill, "afore we put our hooks onthat blessed sea-chest."
"Which is exactly how I felt about you," Jack told them and he wasgreatly touched by this proof of their unbending fidelity. "But how didyou manage it to reach Charles Town?"
"Cap'n Bonnet hove to outside the bar last night," explained TrimbleRogers, "and gave us a handy boat to sail in with."
The wary Joe Hawkridge took alarm at this and put a finger to his lips.It was unwise to parade the fact that Stede Bonnet cruised so near. HisExcellency, the Governor, was anxious that he should share the fate ofBlackbeard. Jack Cockrell had no fear that his Uncle Peter would be atale-bearer. His private honor would forbid because this interview withthe two lads was a privileged communication. What made Jack a trifleanxious was the presence of the gaol keeper in the corridor. He was asneaking sort of man, soft of tread and oily of speech and inclined tocurry favor with those in authority.
Councilor Peter Forbes had tactfully withdrawn this person beyondearshot but he began to edge toward the cell. Old Trimble Rogers triedto heed Joe's cautionary signal but what he meant to be a whisper was ahoarse rumble as he explained:
"Cap'n Bonnet sends word he will be off this coast again in thirty days.He will come ashore hisself, to Sullivan's Island to get the answer,whether you are
to go with us, Master Cockrell, to Cherokee Inlet."
Jack glanced at the gaol keeper but he was a dozen feet away and deep intalk with Mr. Forbes. There was no sign that this confidence had beenoverheard. Bill Saxby scolded the buccaneer for his careless speech butthe old man had been a freebooter too long to be easily tamed. Withartful design, Jack led him away from this dangerous ground andsuggested:
"You are done with pirating? And will you both be ready to stay ashorein Charles Town after this,--this certain errand is accomplished?"
"I swear it gladly and on my own Bible," answered Trimble Rogers.
"Swear it for me," said Bill Saxby.
Mr. Forbes interrupted and told the lads to go home and await hisconference with Governor Johnson. It proved to be a session somewhatstormy but the upshot was a pardon conditioned on good behavior. Theconvincing argument was that these men had been faithful to MasterCockrell through thick and thin and had saved him from perishing in theCherokee swamp. Moreover, it might be an inducement to others of StedeBonnet's crew to surrender themselves and forsake their evil ways.
No sooner were these two pirates released from gaol than they found anactive friend in Mr. Peter Forbes. He went about it quietly, for obviousreasons, but he felt under great obligation to them for their goodnessto his nephew. Just at this time one of the shop-keepers became abankrupt because of unthrifty habits and too much card-playing. Throughan agent, Peter Forbes purchased the stock of muslins and calicos, ofbrocades and taffetas, calash bonnets, satin petticoats, shoe-buckles,laces, and buttons. And having given his promissory notes for saidmerchandise, Bill Saxby proudly hung his own sign-board over the door.
There was a flutter among the ladies. Here was a noteworthy sensation,to be served by an obsequious pirate with innocent blue eyes who hadsailed the Spanish Main. A few days and it was evident that WilliamSaxby, late of London, would conduct a thriving trade. He was fairlyenraptured with his good fortune and congenial occupation and took itmost amiably when Jack Cockrell or Joe Hawkridge sauntered in to teasehim. He was a disgrace to Stede Bonnet, said they, and never had apirate fallen to such a low estate as this.
Trimble Rogers was in no situation to rant at smug William, the linendraper. The old sea wolf who had outlived the most glorious era of thestoried buccaneers, had a few gold pieces tucked away in his belt and atfirst he was content to loaf about the tavern, with an audience tolisten to his wondrous tales which ranged from Henry Morgan to the greatCaptain Edward Davis. But he had never been a sot or an idler and soonhe found himself lending a hand to assist the landlord in this way orthat. And when disorder occurred, a word from this gray, hawk-eyed roverwas enough to quell the wildest roisterers from the plantations.
Children strayed to the tavern green to sit upon his knee and twistthose fierce mustachios of his, and their mothers ceased to snatch themaway when they learned to know him better. Sometimes in his leisurehours he pored over his tattered little Bible with muttering lips andfound pleasure in the Psalmist's denunciation of his enemies who wereundoubtedly Spaniards in some other guise. He puttered about the flowerbeds with spade and rake and kept the bowling green clipped close with akeen sickle. In short, there was a niche for Trimble Rogers in his oldage and he seemed well satisfied to fill it, just as Admiral Benbowspent his time among his posies at Deptford when he was not bombardingor blockading the French fleet off Dunkirk.
Jack Cockrell halted for a chat while passing the tavern and these twoshipmates retired to a quiet corner of the porch. The blind fiddler wasplying a lively bow and a dozen boys and girls danced on the turf.Trimble Rogers surveyed them with a fatherly aspect as he said:
"They ain't afeard of me, Jack, not one of 'em. Was ever a worn out oldhulk laid up in a fairer berth?"
"None of the sea fever left, Trimble? What about Captain Bonnet? He isdue off the bar two days hence. My uncle frowns upon my sailing with himto seek the treasure. He insists that I steer clear of pirates."
"And that's entirely proper, Jack. I look at things different like, nowI be a worthy citizen. 'Tis better to fit out a little expedition of ourown, if we can drag silly Bill out of his rubbishy shop."
"Oh, he will come fast enough after a while. We are all tired of the seajust now," said Jack. "What about Captain Bonnet and meeting him atSullivan's Island to pass the word that we must decline his courteousinvitation?"
"I shall tend to that," answered the retired buccaneer, "And from whatgossip I glean in the tavern, Cap'n Bonnet had best steer for his homeport of Barbadoes and quit his fancy piratin'. This fractious Governorhas set his heart on hangin' him. And Colonel Stuart is up and aboutagain and has ordered the _King George_ to fit for sea. 'Tis rumored hehas sent messages to the north'ard for Lieutenant Maynard to sailanother cruise in his company."
"Then be sure you warn Stede Bonnet," strongly advised Jack. "I wouldnot be disloyal to the Province or to mine own good uncle, but one goodturn deserves another."
Two days after this, Trimble Rogers vanished from the tavern and foundJack's canoe tied in a cove beyond the settled part of the town. It wasin the evening of this same day that Jack was reading in his room bycandle-light when a tap-tap on the window shutter startled him. He threwit open and dimly perceived that Dorothy Stuart stood there. Her facewas white in the gloom and she wore a dress of some dark stuff. At herbeckoning gesture, Jack slipped through the window and silently led herinto the lane.
"Oh, Jack, I have been so torn betwixt scruples," she softly confided."And I hope I am not doing wrong. If I am disloyal to my dear father,may I be forgiven. But I have made myself believe that there is astronger obligation."
"It concerns Stede Bonnet," murmured Jack, reading the motive of thissecret errand.
"Yes, you are bound to befriend him, Jack, on your honor as agentleman."
"He has been warned to keep clear of Charles Town, Dorothy. TrimbleRogers has gone off to meet him."
"But it is worse than that. The keeper of the gaol, Jason Cutter, wascloseted with my father this morning. I heard something that was said.Soldiers have been sent to Sullivan's Island."
"To capture Captain Bonnet?" wrathfully exclaimed Jack. "Did ColonelStuart go with them? Does he know why Stede Bonnet risks putting intothis harbor in a small boat? It is to do a deed of pure friendship andchivalry."
"All my father understands is what the gaoler reported," repliedDorothy, "and the Governor acted on this evidence. No, he did not gowith the troops but sent a major in command."
"Too late for me to be of service, alas! If they take Captain Bonnetalive, he will most certainly hang. And Bill Saxby and Trimble Rogerswill be embroiled in some desperate attempt to aid his escape fromgaol."
"I am a dreadful, wicked girl to be thus in league with pirates," sighedMistress Dorothy, "but I confess to you, Jack dear, that it would grievemy heart to see this charming pirate wear a hempen halter."
"My rival, is he? So I have found you out," flared Jack, pretending vastindignation. "Nevertheless, I shall still be true to him."
"And to me, I trust," she fondly replied. "Oh, I feel so thankful thatfaithful Trimble Rogers is keeping tryst. He will hear the soldiersblundering about in time to make Captain Bonnet take heed and shoveoff."
Jack walked home with her, very glad of the excuse, but with jealousyrankling in his bosom. It was not a lasting malady, however, and he hadforgotten it next morning when he went early to the tavern to look forTrimble Rogers. There he found the major of the detachment at breakfastwith an extraordinary story to tell. He had made a landing on Sullivan'sIsland after dark and deployed some of his men to patrol the beach thatfaced the ocean. The squad which remained with him had surprised a manlurking amongst the trees. Pursued and fired at, he had led them aninfernal chase until they burst out upon the open beach. There theyheard the sound of oars and voices in a boat which was making in for theshore. The hunted man raised his voice in one stentorian shout of:
"Pull out to sea, Cap'n Bonnet. And 'ware this coast. The soldiers areon my heels. Old Trimble
Rogers sends a fare-ye-well."
The boat was wrenched about in a trice and moved away from the island,soon disappearing in the direction of the bar. The major's men had shotat it but without effect. When they had rushed to capture the fugitivewho had shouted the warning, they found him prone upon the sand. Therewas not a scratch on him and yet he was quite dead. The prodigiousexertion had broken his heart, ventured the major, and it had ceased tobeat. His body would be prepared for Christian burial because of theesteem in which he was already held by many of the townspeople.
To Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge it was sad news indeed buttender-hearted Bill Saxby mourned like one who had lost a parent. Heclosed the shop for a day and hung black ribbons on the knob. Theyagreed that the end had come for Trimble Rogers as he would have wishedit, giving his life in loyal service to a friend and master. And perhapsit was better thus than for the creeping disabilities of old age toovertake him.
"He knew he was liable to pop off," said Bill, "with the rheumatismgetting closer to his heart all the time. And he told me, did Trimble,that his share of the treasure was to go to the poor and needy of thetown. Orphans and such was Trimble's weakness."
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