nd Herriot. The light of a
lantern, which the latter held, fell upon the face of a boy no older
than Jeremy, dressed in the finest clothes the young New Englander had
ever seen.

The lad's face was dark and resolute, his hair black, smoothly brushed
back and tied behind with a small ribbon. His blue coat was of velvet,
neatly cut. Below his long flowered waistcoat were displayed buff velvet
breeches and silk stockings of the same color. His shoes were of fine
leather and buckled with silver.

In response to the oaths and rough questions of the two pirates, the lad
seemed to have little to say. When he spoke it was with a scornful ring
in his voice. The first words Jeremy heard him say were: "You'll
understand it soon, I fancy. We are well enough known along the bay and
my father, as I have said, is a friend of the Governor's. There'll be
ten ships after you before morning." Herriot put back his head and
roared with laughter. "Hear the young braggart!" he shouted. "Ten ships
for such a milk-fed baby as he is!"

"Well, my lad," said the Captain, "you'll be treated well enough while
we wait for the money to be paid. Here, Jeremy!" As the young
backwoodsman came up, Bonnet continued, "Two boys aboard is bad
business, for you're sure to be scheming to get away. However, it can't
be helped, just yet, and mind what I say,--there'll be a bullet ready
for the first one that tries it. Now get below, the pair of you."

Glad as he was to have a companion of his own age aboard, Jeremy,
boylike, was too shy to say anything to the new arrival that night, and
indeed the other boy seemed to class him with the rest of the pirates
and to feel some repugnance at his company. So the two unfortunate
youngsters slept fitfully, side by side, until broad daylight next
morning.

CHAPTER XIII

The "salt horse" which was served out for breakfast aboard the _Royal
James_ made scant appeal to the Delaware boy's appetite. He hardly
touched the portion which Jeremy offered him and kept up his pose of
proud aloofness all the morning. It is scarcely a matter for wonder that
he did not at once make friends with Jeremy. The latter's buckskin
breeches and moccasins had been taken from him when he came aboard and
he was now clad in his old leather tunic, a pair of seaman's trousers,
which bagged nearly to his ankles, wrinkled, garterless wool socks and
an old pair of buckled shoes, stuffed with rags to make them fit. His
hair, never very man