noticed on the horizon two suspicious vessels, which
instantly gave chase; they were probably men-of-war, and the Fox-Hound
had escaped only by crowding on all sail, but they were still pursuing.

"Let them come," said Barthelemy, sweeping the sea with his glass, and
soon discovered on the horizon the two ships which, at that distance,
resembled sea-gulls.

"Those are not men-of-war," cried Barthelemy, "they look more like
pirates, and are coming toward us with every inch of canvas spread.
They will fare badly."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Skyrme, "that's all we lack. We have conquered plenty
of merchantmen and war-ships, now we must capture pirates to have the
whole variety."

The entire crew watched the approaching ships with eager curiosity,
saying to one another, "They think they are attacking a government ship,
how amazed they will be when they reach us!"

Moody was shading his eyes first with one hand and then the other,
straining them till they fairly started from their sockets. Suddenly he
clapped his hands, threw up his hat, and throwing himself down on the
deck laughed till he was red in the face.

"Moody! Have you gone crazy?" asked Barthelemy. "The man never laughed
before in his whole life. What ails you, Moody?"

"Don't you know those ships?" he asked, half raising himself, then flung
himself back in another fit of laughter so uncontrollable that the men
were obliged to seize and hold him before he grew quiet.

"Speak, old lunatic, what ails you?"

"When I tell you, you'll all jump out of your skins. Don't you see those
two ships? Don't you recognize them? They are the Sea Devil, and the
Dutch ship which ran away from us, left us starving on the sea, and now
are coming straight into the jaws of our guns! Isn't it enough to drive
a man mad with joy?"

The awful shout of delight from the pirates drowned Moody's laughter;
with bloodthirsty eagerness they rushed for their weapons, climbed on
the yards to get a better view of the approaching vessels, and shook
their fists at them.

They had found the traitors who had left their comrades to meet the most
terrible death by starvation, and who now voluntarily came to encounter
their revenge. This thought moved even Barthelemy so much that a burning
flush crimsoned his pale face. His mute lips refused to give utterance
to his feverish joy, but his countenance belied them.

"Calm yourselves!" he said to his men, "we'll let them come nearer; get
behind the bul