at is your name?" said he; and then, "Como se llama V.?" (for we
all knew a little Spanish in those days.)

"Mercedes," said the child.

"I suppose," ventured Bowdoin, "there is some asylum"--

McMurtagh looked dubious; and the little maid, divining that the
discussion of her was unfavorable, fell to tears, and then ran up and
dried them on McMurtagh's business waistcoat.

"You take the gold," said he dryly; "I'll carry the child myself."

"Where?" inquired young Bowdoin, astonished.

"Home," said McMurtagh sharply.

McMurtagh was known to have an old mother and a bedridden father (a
retired drayman, run over in the service of the firm), whom he lived
with, and with some difficulty supported. Yet little could be said
against the plan, as a temporary arrangement, if they were willing to
assume the burden. At all events, before Mr. James could find speech
for objection, McMurtagh was off with the child in his arms, seeking
to soothe her with uncouth words of endearment as he bore her
carefully down the narrow stairs.

James Bowdoin laughed a little, and then grew silent. Finally, his
glance falling on the yellow piles still lying on the floor, he
shoveled them into the bag again and shouldered it up to the bank.
There the deposit of specie was duly made, the money put in the old
chest and sealed, and he learned that the pirates had been committed
to stand their trial. And he and his father talked it over, and
decided that the child might as well stay with McMurtagh, for the
present at any rate.

But that "present" was long in passing; for the pirates were duly
tried, and all but one of them found guilty, sentenced to be hanged,
and duly executed on an island in the harbor. There were no
sentimentalists about in those days; and their gibbets were erected in
the sand of that harbor island, and their bodies swung for many days
(as these same sentimentalists might now put it) near the sea they had
loved so well; being a due encouragement to other pirates to leave
Boston ships alone. Pity the town has not kept up those tactics with
its railways!

All the common seamen were executed, that is, and Manuel Silva, the
second in command, who had left the little girl with McMurtagh. The
captain, it was proved, had been polite to his two lady captives: the
men safely disposed of, he had placed the best cabin at their command,
and had even gone so far out of his way as to head the ship toward
Boston, on their behalf; promi