hroat with me, should now fall out
over nothing. I know you to be roaring boys who would go with me against
the devil himself if I bid you. Let the steward bring cups and drown all
unkindness between us."

"It is no time for drinking, Captain Sharkey," said Martin. "The men are
holding council round the mainmast, and may be aft at any minute. They
mean mischief, Captain Sharkey, and we have come to warn you."

Sharkey sprang for the brass-handled sword which hung from the wall.

"Sink them for rascals!" he cried. "When I have gutted one or two of
them they may hear reason."

But the others barred his frantic way to the door.

"There are forty of them under the lead of Sweetlocks, the master," said
Martin, "and on the open deck they would surely cut you to pieces. Here
within the cabin it may be that we can hold them off at the points of
our pistols."

He had hardly spoken when there came the tread of many heavy feet upon
the deck. Then there was a pause with no sound but the gentle lipping
of the water against the sides of the pirate vessel. Finally, a crashing
blow as from a pistol-butt fell upon the door, and an instant afterwards
Sweetlocks himself, a tall, dark man, with a deep red birthmark blazing
upon his cheek, strode into the cabin. His swaggering air sank somewhat
as he looked into those pale and filmy eyes.

"Captain Sharkey," said he, "I come as spokesman of the crew."

"So I have heard, Sweetlocks," said the captain, softly. "I may live to
rip you the length of your vest for this night's work."

"That is as it may be, Captain Sharkey," the master answered, "but if
you will look up you will see that I have those at my back who will not
see me mishandled."

"Cursed if we do!" growled a deep voice from above, and glancing upwards
the officers in the cabin were aware of a line of fierce, bearded,
sun-blackened faces looking down at them through the open skylight.

"Well, what would you have?" asked Sharkey. "Put it in words, man, and
let us have an end of it."

"The men think," said Sweetlocks, "that you are the devil himself, and
that there will be no luck for them whilst they sail the sea in such
company. Time was when we did our two or three craft a day, and every
man had women and dollars to his liking, but now for a long week we have
not raised a sail, and save for three beggarly sloops, have taken never
a vessel since we passed the Bahama Bank. Also, they know that you
killed Jack Bartholome