ack ships and the gold and the
fighting. By the serpent of Esculapius, in my heart of hearts I would
rather be such a world's thief, uncaught, than Governor of Virginia!" He
gathered up the tools of his trade, and motioned to his torchbearer
to go before. "I'll have to report you rapidly recovering," he said
warningly, as he turned to follow the light.

"Very well," I made answer. "To whom am I indebted for so much
kindness?"

"I am Dr. John Pott, newly appointed physician general to the colony of
Virginia. It is little of my skill I could give you, but that little I
gladly bestow upon a real pirate. What a life it must have been! And to
have to part with it when you are yet young! And the good red gold and
the rich gems all at the bottom of the sea!"

He sighed heavily and went his way. The hatches were closed after
him, and the minister and I were left in darkness while the slow hours
dragged themselves past us. Through the chinks of the hatches a very
faint light streamed down, and made the darkness gray instead of black.
The minister and I saw each other dimly, as spectres. Some one brought
us mouldy biscuit that I wanted not, and water for which I thirsted.
Sparrow put the small pitcher to his lips, kept it there a moment, then
held it to mine. I drank, and with that generous draught tasted pure
bliss. It was not until five minutes later that I raised myself upon my
elbow and turned on him.

"The pitcher felt full to my lips!" I exclaimed. "Did you drink when you
said you did?"

He put out his great hand and pushed me gently down. "I have no wound,"
he said, "and there was not enough for two."

The light that trembled through the cracks above died away, and the
darkness became gross. The air in the hold was stifling; our souls
panted for the wind and the stars outside. At the worst, when the fetid
blackness lay upon our chests like a nightmare, the hatch was suddenly
lifted, a rush of pure air came to us, and with it the sound of men's
voices speaking on the deck above. Said one, "True the doctor pronounces
him out of all danger, yet he is a wounded man."

"He is a desperate and dangerous man," broke in another harshly. "I
know not how you will answer to your Company for leaving him unironed so
long."

"I and the Company understand each other, my lord," rejoined the first
speaker, with some haughtiness. "I can keep my prisoner without advice.
If I now order irons to be put upon him and his accomplice, it