ys I, nodding.

"Why then bear witness as I be a patient soul and marciful. Be witness
as I held my fire so long as any marciful soul might by token that I
knew what a broadside can do among crowded rowing-benches--having rowed
aboard one o' they Spanish hells afore now--so I held my fire till yon
devil's craft came nigh cutting me asunder--and marcy hath its limits.
Timothy Spence o' the "Tiger", master, is me, homeward bound for the
Port of London, and by this fight am short five good men. But you're a
proper big 'un. Go for'ard to the bo'sun, you shall know him by reason
that he lacketh his starboard yere. Ask him for clothes to cover thy
nakedness, lad, and--Oho, there goeth yon devil's craft--!" Turning as
he spoke I saw the sharp bows of the "Esmeralda" lift and lift, high
and higher, and, with a long-drawn gurgling roar, the great galleass
plunged down stern foremost, burying her shame and misery from the eyes
of man for evermore.

Thus then I sailed with Master Timothy Spence aboard the "Tiger," a
free man after five years of anguish.

CHAPTER I

OF WHAT BEFELL ON PEMBURY HILL

It was a night of tempest with rain and wind, a great wild wind that
shouted mightily near and far, filling the world with halloo; while,
ever and anon, thunder crashed and lightning flamed athwart the muddy
road that wound steeply up betwixt grassy banks topped by swaying
trees. Broken twigs, whirling down the wind, smote me in the dark,
fallen branches reached out arms that grappled me unseen, but I held on
steadfastly, since every stride carried me nearer to vengeance, that
vengeance for the which I prayed and lived. So with bared head lifted
exulting to the tempest and grasping the stout hedge-stake that served
me for staff, I climbed the long ascent of Pembury Hill.

Reaching the summit at last I must needs stay awhile to catch my breath
and shelter me as well as I might 'neath the weather bank, for upon
this eminence the rain lashed and the wind smote me with a fury
redoubled.

And now, as I stood amid that howling darkness, my back propped by the
bank, my face lifted to the tempest, I was aware of a strange sound,
very shrill and fitful, that reached me 'twixt the booming wind-gusts,
a sound that came and went, now loud and clear, anon faint and remote,
and I wondered what it might be. Then the rushing dark was split
asunder by a jagged lightning-flash, and I saw. Stark against the
glare rose black shaft and cro