ready."

Moody, however, required few preparations, and as soon as he seized the sword, with the flat of whose blade he dealt a severe blow on the back of the person who handed it, he began to strike furiously around him in every direction, so that had twelve men stood near he would have mowed them all down—only he failed to hit the one directly in front of him.

Barthelemy seemed to be merely toying with him. He scarcely moved his arm to parry the strokes which his adversary's fury did not suffer him to calculate.

"Take care—you are running directly upon my sword—Moody, don't put your own eyes out. Look, I am not standing where you are aiming. Don't strike at me so fiercely, I shall think you want to kill me."

It was a true robber-fray; for the rage of one adversary, the jests of the other, the rude laughter of the bystanders, the jeering, irritating remarks do not occur in duels between gentlemen.

The loud laughter of the pirates enraged the chief mate still more, and he grew fairly frantic when, glancing aside, he saw among them Dr. Scudamore, who had spread out his surgical instruments on his knees, and was gazing at him with a look of diabolical pleasure in his green eyes. Turning from the captain he rushed directly at the surgeon.

"Oho, my good fellow, don't run overboard," said Barthelemy, barring his way, upon which Moody, his face distorted by rage, again attacked him. Barthelemy avoided the blow and pierced his right arm. The chief mate instantly picked up his sword with his left hand; the foes again confronted each other, breast to breast.

Then Barthelemy, with a clever trick of fence, struck his antagonist's sword from his grasp and, setting his foot upon it, seized him by the throat and flung him among his companions.

Scudamore officiously ran forward to aid the wounded man.

"Don't come here!" roared Moody hoarsely, "or I'll tear you to pieces and put you on my wounds, as the ourang outang does leaves."

The chief mate would not allow his injuries to be bandaged, but though bleeding profusely, struggled with his companions till they bound one arm to a beam; and continued to strike about him with the injured one till that too, was bound, after which he kicked violently and when his feet were also tied, bit like a mad dog. They were obliged even to gag him before the doctor could bandage his wounds, and stanch the blood.

"How bad the old gentleman's teeth are," said Scudamore, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes. "We shall probably have to pull out some of them."

Moody could make no reply to this hideous threat except a roar like a wild beast's, and could not even bite the hand which the doctor passed over him.

Meanwhile Barthelemy had had the brigantine's crew released and told them that they would find all their weapons in the mate's cabin, whose key he would give them when he left the Neptune.

With these words he approached Rolls, bowed courteously, and held out his hand. After a short pause the latter clasped it, saying:

"Very well, I will take it, in the hope that we may meet again."

"I hope this will happen soon. A presentiment tells me that some day I shall kill you in a victorious battle, Captain Rolls."

"And one tells me that I shall get you hung, Robert Barthelemy."

"I thank you for your kind intention. By the way, you have only one keg of biscuits and a cask of water—that will not supply you until you reach London. May I offer you some of my store of provisions?"

"I will accept it, and trust that you will be fully repaid."

"Oh, it's not worth talking about. I would willingly lend you a few cannons, that you may not be captured on the way."

"I advise you not to do so, for if I had even two guns, I would try to recover my stolen silver."

"You are a good fellow. We shall meet again somewhere. Till then, farewell."

The two captains shook hands with each other. Meanwhile the pirates had rolled several casks of biscuit and water from their vessel to the brigantine. Barthelemy gave the sailors the key and, with a bound, reached the deck of his own ship, the pirates shoved off from the Neptune and, with three cheers, set sail. Half an hour later, two vessels were seen moving across the sea in opposite directions, widening the space between them every moment.

Chapter II

In Hispaniola

Robert Barthelemy's name became known everywhere on the high seas. Holland and Portuguese sailors trembled before him; for when they recognized his vessel and, after a desperate chase, gained the shelter of a harbor, he followed them, robbed them under the very guns of the port and, if attacked, ordered the town to be bombarded and its fortifications given to the flames.

There was no end to the marvelous tales related about him.

On the southern coast of the beautiful Island of Hayti, in a pleasant valley, stands a small wooden house, whose front is covered with climbing vines, and whose windows are filled with flowers; doves coo softly on the gable-roof, and a white cat lies purring on the threshold.

At both sides of the little house stretch cotton fields, whose green foliage charms the traveler's eye as, coming from the interior, he sees toward evening the little cottage in the quiet valley.

Who lived there?

One evening just at twilight, a light boat containing three men was pulled to the shore. One left it, the two others remained.

The youth who climbed the bank was a handsome fellow, with a bright, eager face; his complexion was bronzed by exposure to the weather and, as the wind tossed back his hair, the locks bared a high, broad forehead.

He gazed around him with the joyous expression of one who, after a long absence, again treads his native soil, and to whom every tree and bush is familiar.

A rough seaman's cape rested on his shoulders, his head was covered by a round straw hat, and his white shirt collar turned over a loosely tied scarf; he was probably a young sailor who, after a long voyage, had again come near his home and was permitted to pay it a short visit.

The path was just as he had left it, perhaps a little more uneven than in the old days; the doves were cooing, and the white cat purred in the doorway just as of yore. The new-comer approached with noiseless tread, softly turned the handle of the door, and entered.

A gray-haired woman sat inside in a large armchair. She was the young man's grandmother. With her were three girls—two were fair, the third was dark, with starry eyes and a face like the young dawn.

All started at his entrance, exclaiming in one breath; "William!" The two sisters ran to meet him, the grandmother, unable to leave her chair, only held out her arms, his betrothed bride was the last to greet him that she might remain the longer in his embrace.

There was great delight in the little circle, a hundred questions rained upon him.

"It is a whole year since we saw you last," said the grandmother, with tears in her eyes.

"A whole eternity," murmured his betrothed bride, laying her head on his shoulder.

"You won't leave us again, will you?" asked his youngest sister, clinging to her brother's neck as if she could hold him at her side.

"I can stay an hour. The ship is in the offing while the sailors are getting a