who had provided himself with the
choicest provisions. The pirates found large coops filled with pheasants
and Calcutta hens, which had been fed on nuts to give their flesh a
better flavor. The rascals pulled out every one of the birds.

"Where's the barber?" they shouted, "Here's something to bleed!" and
they dragged Scudamore forward to use his valuable surgical instruments
to cut off the heads of the capons. Scudamore gleefully beheaded the
squawking fowl, each one of which the Bristol captain seemed to mourn,
and when he had dispatched the last, he suddenly seized the sighing
sailor by the hair, put his knife to his throat, and would have sent him
after the birds, had not Skyrme dealt him such a blow that he fell
headlong.

"I supposed _these_ were to follow!" said the doctor with a fiendish
laugh.

Meanwhile the pirates began to pluck the poultry, and then cut the fowl
up clumsily, lacking the help of Scudamore, who swore by all the imps of
Satan that he didn't enlist to kill animals, but men.

The beautiful pheasants were flung into three large copper kettles,
white pepper and cod-fish were added, and fires were lighted under the
caldrons.

"Oh, what barbarians!" sighed the English captain, "To cook cod-fish
with pheasants."

As soon as the meat was half done they gathered around, flourishing
their knives. The captain was invited to take his seat among them and
share the meal, which he eagerly did, for on discovering that the birds
could no longer be saved, he developed a laudable intention of devouring
enough of them for three men.

After the repast the wretches brought out the captain's preserved fruit,
stored carefully away for his own use, and ate it before his eyes.

The rude fellows, accustomed to coarse smoked meat, greedily swallowed
the expensive pistachio nuts and preserved pineapples, while saying
contemptuously that they would much rather have onions.

And how they drank the noble wine! From the narrow-necked bottles in
which it is usually sold! No, they knocked out the bottoms of the casks
and dipped it up with their hats, or held their mouths under the cock
and drank till they could scarcely rise. Swiftly as the wine poured into
their throats, songs and laughter poured out, the wildest shouts of
revelry which buccaneers ever uttered; even the English captain was
obliged to drink his own wine, and the more he swallowed, the more
firmly he began to believe that he himself was the pirate chie