g in letting him escape."

"To the yard-arm with the traitor!" sounded from the throat of many a
ruffianly seaman.

Thus grew the feeling of mutiny--and the result of these murmurs of
discontent--was that Captain England was put ashore by the cruel
villains; and, with three others was marooned upon the island of
Mauritius. Had they not been destitute of every necessity they might
have been able to live in comfort, for the island abounds in deer,
hogs, and other animals. Dissatisfied, however, with this solitary
situation, Captain England and his three men exerted their industry
and ingenuity, built a small boat, and sailed to Madagascar, where
they lived upon the generosity of some more fortunate piratical
companions.

But can a pirate remain happy when not pirating?

"Away with this life," cried Captain England. "I pine for more
treasure and for battle. Let's out and to sea!"

"Good! Good!" said his mates. "Let's ship aboard another vessel and
get away from here."

So, they again took to the ocean, but what became of Edward England is
not known.

Some say that he was killed in a brawl; some that he was again
marooned and was adopted by a savage tribe; some that he perished in a
fight upon the Indian Ocean. At any rate that rough and valiant soul
is lost to history, and--somewhere--in the vast solitude of the
Southern Hemisphere, lie the bleaching bones of him who had flaunted
the skull-and-cross-bones upon the wide highway of the gleaming
wastes of salty brine. His was a rough and careless life. Do not
emulate the career of Edward England!

Near the straits of Madagascar; near the sobbing oceans' roar,
A ghostly shape glides nightly, by the beady, kelp-strewn shore.--
As the Cubic monkeys chatter; as the Bulbul lizards hiss,
Comes a clear and quiet murmur, like a Zulu lover's kiss.
The flying-fishes scatter; the chattering magpies scream,
The topaz hummers dart and dip; their jewelled feathers gleam.
The mud-grimed hippos bellow; the dove-eyed elands bleat,
When the clank of steel disturbs them, and the beat of sandalled feet.
The pirate crew is out to-night, no rest is for their souls,
The blood of martyrs moves them; they charge a million tolls.
On! On! Their souls must hasten. On! On! Their shapes must go,
While the limpid rushes quiver, and the beast-lapped waters glow.
No rest for Captain England. No rest, for King or pawn,
On! On! Their feet mu