fierce uproar arose among the robbers. Many approved the captain's speech, some strove to oppose it.

Barthelemy stamped his foot violently. "Is there any one who desires to contradict me?"

"Yes!" shrieked Moody, stepping in front of him and thrusting the pipe he held between his teeth so close to the captain's face that it almost touched his eyes. "I say you are a fool, captain. You are acting against all the customs of pirates and, if you don't take back your order, I'll scuttle the ship myself."

"Do you think so?" said Barthelemy. "Skyrme! Seize this fellow and bind him to the mainmast."

The pirates shrank back, startled. Moody was the oldest of the band, whom no captain had ever ventured to punish. Barthelemy again motioned to Skyrme, and the latter, rushing upon the chief mate, bound him, in spite of his struggles, to the mainmast, so that he clasped it with both arms, his back turned to the crew; but, while pouring forth a continuous torrent of oaths, he still kept his pipe in his mouth.

"Is there any one else who wishes to oppose me?" asked the young chief.

A suppressed murmur ran through the ranks of the pirates, but no one raised his voice distinctly.

Barthelemy now turned to Captain Rolls and, taking from his pocket a piece of paper and a pencil he said:

"Captain Rolls! I hope you will reach London with your ship in safety. It is true that you will return her to her owners empty, but that is no fault of yours, in proof of which I will give you the following certificate for your justification at home.

"Add," said Rolls, "that you succeeded in securing the silver only through Scudamore's treachery."

"True," replied Barthelemy, adding the sentence.

"Gentlemen!" interposed Scudamore trembling, "what are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing," said Barthelemy. "We promised that we would not harm a hair of your head."

"Yes," returned the other mournfully, "but if you release the captain, and me with him, what is to become of me?"

"I don't know," returned the corsair-chief, shrugging his shoulders.

Skyrme laughed aloud. "That's a splendid joke!"

"For heaven's sake! What shall I say to you?" stammered Scudamore, throwing himself at Barthelemy's feet. "Oh, gentlemen, don't leave me in this man's power, he will have no mercy on me. He is a horrible villain."

"Ha! ha! ha!" cried Skyrme. "Don't spoil this joke, captain. When you set the commander of the brigantine free, let him take this fellow with him; what a fine lot of talk there will be when they call him to account at home for the service he has rendered us."

"Gentlemen! Brave men!" shrieked Scudamore clasping Barthelemy's knees. "Surely you are only jesting with me. It amuses you to drive me to desperation in this way, but you will not really ruin me. You cannot forget that I have rendered you an important service, and shall perform still more. I am a physician; you need one, take me with you. I will be just such a man, such a devil as all the rest, I'll be no disgrace to your band. You will never repent having made my acquaintance. I beseech, I implore you to say a good word to the captain for me. Oh, you good, brave man, you leader with the face of a hero, give me your hand, that I may kiss it."

"Rise," said Barthelemy curtly. "We do need a surgeon, I'll take you."

"What! a surgeon among us!" growled Moody, who was still bound to the mast, "a surgeon who, whenever one of our band is wounded in the hand or foot, will cut it off? A living human saw? A poisoner, who won't let a man die in peace? I've no use for him. Throw him out of the ship, or I'll kill him."

"Not another word, Moody!" cried Barthelemy. "It is my wish, and so it shall be. You manage the ropes and sails, but you need not trouble yourself about anything else."

"I beg you, sir," said Scudamore, "not to vex our valiant captain, you seem to be such a worthy man, I know I shall have the warmest regard for you."

"Come nearer, so that I can see you," said Moody. And when Scudamore approached near enough for him to reach him with his foot, he gave him such a kick that he nearly fell over backward.

"Men!" shouted Barthelemy, "bring me the cat o' nine tails. Give this man thirty blows on the back. Whoever disobeys me must suffer for it."

The nine-lashed scourge was instantly brought. "To work at once!" Barthelemy commanded. "No one is exempt from punishment."

Moody's eyes fairly started from their sockets with rage, and when the man bearing the cat o' nine tails approached him, he began to throw himself frantically to the right and left, but thereby only caused the blows to fall on him haphazard, till at last one knocked the pipe from his mouth.

Barthelemy coolly awaited the end of the punishment, and then called Scudamore to write his name in the list of pirates. Scudamore seized the pen with eager joy, and wrote his signature with such horrible glee that even the robbers were startled, and then, turning to Captain Rolls, exclaimed scornfully:

"When you reach London, inform the government of my new occupation."

Skyrme laid his huge hand on his shoulder and muttered between his teeth: "You scoundrel, you'll make a first-class devil."

"At least as good as any of you."

From that moment, Scudamore felt perfectly at home in his new sphere, looking at the list with his name enrolled as if it were some diabolical patent of nobility, and eyeing Captain Rolls with the air of a newly appointed official surveying his former comrades.

"Now, Captain Rolls," said Barthelemy, "you can take possession of your ship. But that we may not leave our mate here in exchange for your doctor, loose Moody from the mast."

Two pirates obeyed the command, avoiding the feet of the chief mate, who was trying to deal them a severe kick. When he found his hands free, his first act was to give the nearest liberator a heavy blow, and the second to pick up his short pipe and put it between his lips.

"Moody!" said the captain, folding his arms, "I just punished you as your commander's subordinate; now that it is over we again stand man to man; if you feel that I have wronged you, take your weapons. I am ready to give you any satisfaction and, if you desire, will fight with you."

Moody did not utter a syllable in reply, but hastily threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, loosed his collar and, with sparkling eyes, eagerly looked about for a weapon.

"Give him arms," said Barthelemy; "which will you have, pistol or sabre?"

"Give me a sword," gasped Moody hoarsely, "we shall be nearer each other."

"Make room for this brave man, lads; keep out of the reach of his arm, for he'll strike at any one. Excuse our fighting in your ship, Captain Rolls, but satisfaction must be given in the presence of those who witnessed the offence. Well, Moody, are you ready? Give a signal, when you are