by Howard Pyle
“Why, yes,” said Jack. “I know her very well, but I don’t know whether or no she remembers me now.”
“Well, lookee,” said Dred, “the captain thinks as how it might rouse her up a bit if somebody as knowed her was to come down and speak to her and take her down summat to eat. Can’t you get summat to eat, such as gentlefolk like her cares for? D’ ye see, we don’t know just what they kind likes and what they needs, and ’twould be a mightily serious thing for all on us if this here young lady was to take ill and die on our hands.”
“I don’t know,” said Jack, “whether I could do anything for her or not, but I’ll try.”
“Well, then, you go down into the galley and see if you can get summat for her to eat, and then fetch it aft to the cabin, and try to persuade her to eat a bite.”
When Jack came out of the galley a half hour later, carrying a plate of food, he heard the trum-trumming of the guitar sounding distantly from below, aft. It was the first time he had been down into the cabin. He found it fitted up with some considerable comfort, but now dirty and disorderly. The bedding in the berths was tumbled and dirty, as though it had not been made up for a long time, and the place was filled with a close, stuffy, sour smell, pervaded with the odor of stale tobacco smoke. Hands was lying, apparently asleep, upon the bench that ran around the cabin, and Captain Teach sat upon the other side of the table, with a glass of grog at his elbow. He held his guitar across his breast, and his brown fingers — one of them wearing a silver ring — picked at the strings. Behind the captain a dark figure lay in the berth, still and motionless. Jack could see one hand, as white as wax, resting upon the edge of the berth, and he noticed the shine of the rings upon the fingers.
Captain Teach looked at him as he entered. He stopped playing as Jack came to the place where the young lady lay and kneeled with one knee upon the cushions of the bench. The pirate looked at him with great curiosity, and Jack stood there for a while, not knowing what to say. “Won’t you eat something, mistress?” he said at last, awkwardly. No reply. “Won’t you eat something, mistress?” he said, again; “I brought you something here that I think you can eat — a bit of chicken and some rice. Won’t you eat it?”
She shook her head, without turning around. He stood there for a while in silence, looking at her. “She won’t eat anything,” said he at last, turning toward Captain Teach.
The pirate captain stared at her for a while, in brooding thought. “Oh, very well, then,” he said; “let her alone. She’ll be sharp enough for something to eat, maybe, by afternoon. You can take the victuals back to the galley. Stop! let’s see what you’ve got.” He fingered the food over curiously, as Jack held the plate for him to see. “Chicken and rice, heh?” he said. “Where did you get the chicken?”
“The cook had two of them in a coop up in the bows,” said Jack.
That day it became known that the captain was going to stop over night at Norfolk, where he had friends; and about sundown they dropped anchor in the river, with the little town, the spire of its church showing above the trees, lying about a mile away. Presently the captain came up from below. He had combed out the plaits of his long black beard, and he was dressed rather quietly in a suit of brown clothes with brass buttons, white stockings, and shoes with plate buckles. The boat was ready and waiting for him alongside, and he stepped down into it. Jack watched it as it pulled away toward the shore, rising and falling and bobbing over the tumbling waves, the brown figure of the captain perched high in the stern, with his coat tails spread out upon either side. “He’s got a lot of friends in Norfolk,” said one of the men, who, smoking his pipe, lounged over the rail not very far from Jack, “but he’s got no call to stop there now. If he were in my place and I in hisn, I’d make out to sea without stopping to go ashore for a game of cards or a taste o’ grog at this time.” He took his pipe from between his teeth and puffed a broken cloud of smoke out into the swift windy air, looking gloomily after the boat. “’Tis as much as our necks are worth, as he well knows, for to lie in these here waters with this young lady aboard. Supposen some ‘un was to take a notion to come aboard on us and should find out who we had here in the cabin, how long do you suppose ’twould be afore all on us would be a-lyin’ in the jug in Williamsburgh with a halter about our necks?”
Jack felt a sudden rush of apprehension seize upon him at the man’s words. He had not realized, until that moment, what it meant for him to be aboard the pirate’s sloop; that, having joined himself with outlaws, he himself was now an outlaw. He stood silently for a while, staring after the receding boat. “I do suppose,” he said at last, “that the captain won’t be long ashore.”
The man shrugged his shoulders. “If he once gets ashore with his friends and a bottle of grog, maybe ‘twill be the best part of the night afore he gets away again.”
Jack drew a deep breath. “Well,” he said, “’twas a mightily foolhardy thing for him to do, to be sure.”
Just then some one laid a hand upon his shoulder, and he turned around with a start. It was Dred. “The young lady’s roused up a bit,” he said; “maybe, if you’d take summat down to her now, she’d eat it.”
CHAPTER XXVI
THE PIRATE’S LAIR
IT TOOK NEARLY a week to run from Norfolk to Bath Town. The sloop had run into Ocracock before the breaking of the fourth day; had discharged nearly all of its crew, with noisy hubbub, into the inscrutable gray of the dawning, and had then sailed away up the sound, with only the pirate captain, Dred, and Hands, and Jack, and two negroes left of the thirty or more who had comprised the vessel’s company. It was in the early daylight of the following day that the sloop came about and, with a short tack, sailed into the mouth of Bath Creek. On one side a swamp fringed with giant cypress-trees, their bright-green foliage standing out against the darker green of the trees behind, came close down to the point. Upon the other side were open clearings of plantations. About half a league up, at the head of the mouth of the creek, the houses of the little town clustered among the trees upon a gentle rise of open ground. The sloop was sailing smoothly nearer and nearer to the bluff shore, upon which stood a square frame house with a tall, sloping roof and two lean chimneys. The house, which appeared to be of a somewhat better quality than the ordinary wooden house of the common settler, was almost hidden by the shade of two great cypress-trees that grew up from what seemed to be a little marshy hollow. Behind it, a glimpse of a clearing showed, stretching away to the edge of the woods beyond. A skiff and a dug-out lay drawn up on the beach close to a landing-place, and Jack could see two rough-looking white men standing on the little wharf, looking out toward the sloop. He was standing by with the two negroes who now composed the crew, ready to help let go the anchor at the word of command, when Dred came up out of the cabin and across the deck to where he stood. “You come with me,” he said; “the captain wants you down in the cabin.”
As Jack went below he heard the loud splash of the anchor, and then the sound of the running of the block as Hands let the sail go to the wind. The captain was combing out his shaggy hair, and the young lady sitting leaning with her arms upon the table as he came down the companion-way. She wore an air as of dumb expectation. “Here, young man,” said the captain, “you’re to go ashore with me and the young lady. I want you to carry that bag of clothes up to the house,” nodding his head toward the table where lay the bundle. There was a long pause as the pirate continued his toilet. “You’re to wait upon the young lady, and be handy to help whenever my wife wants you,” he continued, “d’ ye understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jack.
Then Hands came to the companion-way to say that the boat was ready; and Blackbeard turned to the young lady. “Come, mistress,” he said, “if you’re ready now we’ll go ashore.”
The young lady rose instantly from her place, and stood resting her hand upon the table, looking about her. “D’ ye want any help?” said the pirate. She shook her head. “Well, come along, then.”
Th
e captain led the way to the deck; Miss Eleanor Parker followed, and Jack came behind. The young lady looked around her as she came up into the open air. The faint wind stirred the hair at her temples as she gazed steadily at the little town lying seemingly so close. Jack had not noticed before how thin and pale she had grown. The bright glare of the sunlight made her look singularly wan. The boat was alongside, the negroes holding it close to the side of the sloop. They helped the young lady into it almost officiously, and then the captain took his place beside her. “You jump aboard up there in the bow,” he said to Jack; and, as Jack took his place, the negroes pushed off and began rowing away toward the shore. Jack watched the wharf as it came nearer and nearer. He could see that one of the white men who stood there looked haggard and pinched as though with illness. They did not look like sea-faring men, and he judged them to be neighboring planters from some of the places further inland. The next moment the negroes backed oars, the bow of the boat touched with a bump against the landing, and Jack jumped ashore. At the captain’s bidding he reached out his hand, and in instant response felt Miss Eleanor Parker’s grasp, soft and warm. She held tightly to him as he helped her up from the boat to the landing, and he was conscious that the two men on the wharf were staring intently at him and at her.
They still stood dumbly staring as Jack, carrying Miss Eleanor Parker’s bundle, followed the captain and the young lady up the crooked path to the house.
“JACK FOLLOWED THE CAPTAIN AND THE YOUNG LADY UP THE CROOKED PATH TO THE HOUSE.”
From a distance the house had appeared picturesque — almost beautiful — hidden among the soft-green foliage of the cypress-trees; but it looked shabby and weather-worn and even squalid upon a nearer approach. A young woman of sixteen or seventeen years old stood in the doorway, looking at them as they came up the path. Her face was not uncomely, but was heavy and dull. Her hair was light and colorless, and was tied up under a dirty cap. She was in her bare feet; she wore a jacket without sleeves, partly pinned, partly buttoned, and under it a flaming red petticoat. She stared at them with wide eyes, but the pirate said nothing at all to her, and she stood aside as he led the way directly into the house. The floor was bare and uncarpeted. There were a table and two chairs; some tin boxes and a couple of candlesticks, caked with grease, stood upon the mantel together with a loud-ticking clock. Altogether, the room, with its bare plastered walls, was very naked and cheerless, and was filled with a rank, smoky smell. “Sit down, mistress,” said Blackbeard; and then, as Miss Eleanor Parker obeyed him, “This is my wife,” he said, “and she’ll look after you for a while. D’ ye hear, Betty? You’re to look after the young lady. Go up-stairs now, and get the spare room ready, and be as lively about it as you can. You take the young lady’s bundle up-stairs, boys; he—” nodding toward his wife— “she’ll show you where.”
Jack followed the young woman up the rickety stairs to the sagging floor above. “Here, this is the place,” she said, opening the door upon a room directly under the roof. It looked out through two windows across the creek to the swamp on the other side, a half mile or so away. “Who is she?” said the woman to Jack, as he followed her into the room, and laid the traveling-bag upon the bed.
“The young lady down-stairs? She’s Miss Eleanor Parker,” Jack answered.
“A grand, fine lady, ben’t she?” and Jack nodded. “Well, you trig up the room a little now, won’t you? I’ll just go put on a better dress, for, d’ ye see, I didn’t look for Ned to bring such fine company. You’d better bring up a pail of water, too, for I reckon she’ll be wanting to wash herself.”
Blackbeard’s wife was gone for a long time. The pirate walked restlessly and irritably up and down the room, stopping once at the mantel-shelf to fill a pipe of tobacco. The young lady sat impassively, with her hands lying in her lap, gazing absently upon the floor. Once or twice the pirate glared with angry impatience at the door. At last there was the sound of footsteps — this time not of bare feet — clattering down the stairs, and a second later the pirate’s wife opened the door and entered the room. She had changed her slatternly dress for a medley of finery. She wore high-heeled shoes and silk stockings with red clocks. She courtesied to the young lady as Blackbeard glared at her. “If you come along with me now, madam,” she said with an air, “I’ll show you to your room.”
CHAPTER XXVII
AT BATH TOWN
“YOU AND CHRIS Dred will have to sleep together,” the pirate’s wife had said to Jack, the first evening of his arrival. “He’s lived here ever since he came back. He sleeps in the corner room; there ain’t no bed in t’other; so, now the young lady’s come, you’ll have to sleep together, or one of you’ll have to sleep on the floor.” And so Jack was settled at the pirate’s house.
The next morning the pirate captain sent Jack in a boat up to the town with a letter to Mr. Knight, the colonial secretary.
The town appeared singularly interesting to Jack as, leaving the skiff at a little landing, under the care of the negro who had rowed him up to the place, he walked up a straggling lane between some fishing huts, and so to the main street, which, with its dirt sidewalk, was shaded with trees, through which filtered uncertain, wavering spots of sunlight. The day was hot, a dry wind rustled the leaves overhead, and a belated cicada trilled its shrill note that, rising for a while, pulsed whirring away into silence. The houses, mostly built of wood, were small and not very clean. They nearly all stood close to the street. A sort of indolent life stirred in the place, and further down the street a lot of men were lounging in front of a building that looked as if it might be a store of some sort. They stared at Jack as he drew near, and when he asked where he should find Mr. Knight, they did not immediately reply.
“Mr. Knight?” said one of the group. “Why, I reckon Mr. Knight be n’t in town; he went off across the country the day afore yesterday, and I reckon he be n’t back yet.”
“Yes, he be back,” said another; “anyways, his horse be back again, for I saw Jem a-rubbing it down as I came by the stable a while ago.”
Then one of the men got slowly up from where he sat, and led Jack out into the middle of the street. “D’ ye see that open place yonder? Well, that’s where the church stands. Just beyond that — you can see it from here — is the house. ’Tis the very next house to the church. Well, that’s Mr. Knight’s house.”
Mr. Knight’s residence was built of brick and was very much better looking than the houses that surrounded it. Jack found that the secretary was at home, and was shown into his office. He was smoking a pipe of tobacco and looking over some papers which littered the writing-desk at which he sat. He was a rather thin, dark man, not ill-looking, but nervous and jerky in his movements. He wore a black cloth skull-cap upon his head, and Jack saw a fine wig of black hair hanging behind the door.
He turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Jack as he came into the room. “Well,” he said in a sharp, quick voice, “what d’ ye want?”
“Why, master,” said Jack, “Captain Teach hath sent me up with this note for you, sir.”
“O! he did, did he? Well, let me have it.” He leaned back in his chair and reached out for the note, which Jack handed to him and which he tore open quickly and sharply. Jack noticed how the letter trembled in his nervous hand as he held it. He watched his eyes as they traveled down the page until they reached the bottom, and then as he turned over the paper to make sure that there was nothing upon the other side. “Very well,” he said when he had ended; “tell the captain I’ll be there to-morrow.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jack, lingering for a moment. “Is that all?”
“That’s all. I’ll be down to-morrow night.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jack again.
Mr. Knight came down to the pirate’s house at the appointed time, and Captain Teach stood at the door watching him as he came up the crooked path. The pirate had been playing upon his guitar, and he now stood holding it under his arm as Mr. Knight approached, limping slightly and wa
lking with a cane. The evening was warm, and he carried his hat under his arm. Jack stood around the end of the house, also looking at the colonial secretary as he approached. “How d’ ye do, captain?” said Mr. Knight, as soon as he had come near enough.
“Why, I’m well enough,” said Blackbeard, surlily, taking his pipe out of his mouth to reply. “Hands and Dred are both here, and we’ve been waiting for you for some time now. Come in.”
He led the way into the room, where the two of whom he had spoken were sitting smoking and drinking rum and water in the dusk. Mr. Knight nodded to the others. “Well, captain,” he said as he took his seat and laid his hat and cane upon the table, “what’s this business you want to see me about? What’s this I hear about a young lady you’ve brought down from Virginia?”
“Why,” said Captain Teach, “I reckon ’tis just about as you’ve heard it.” He had laid aside his guitar, and had gone to the mantel-shelf and was striking a flint and steel to light the candle. “I brought a young lady down with me from Virginia — she’s staying here with my wife.”
“Well, what’s the business you have with me?”
“I’ll tell you that in a minute as soon as I get this bloody candle lighted. I’ll murder that woman some day. This is the third time she’s left the punk out to get wet. There it comes!” He blew the spark into blaze and lit the candle. “Now, Mr. Secretary Knight,” he said, “I’ll tell you just exactly what the business is we want of you and just what we’ve been doing. Do you know of Colonel Birchall Parker?”
“Why, to be sure I do,” said Mr. Knight. “Why do you ask such a thing as that?”
“Well, I’ve carried his daughter off from Virginia; we’ve got her here in this house.”