ing except the marks of clumsy negro feet,
nowhere the imprint of the dear, fairy-like ones. They were lost. Not a
vestige of the cottage remained except the charred threshold. Barthelemy
embraced and kissed it, his eyes growing dim with tears.

"Ah!" he shouted, dashing them from his eyes, "Not water, but oil on the
flames! This is not the time to weep, but to avenge. A pirate's tears
are drops of blood! I will avenge you, my murdered family, on mankind,
on the whole world. Earth, grant me no more rest. Change the wine-cup to
wormwood ere it reaches my lips, and every throb of my heart to hate. I
had a single joy, my soul a single steadfast idea, which came to my
remembrance whenever any one sued to me for mercy, and I granted it.
That was joy. But it is forever torn from my heart, henceforward I will
give quarter to no one. Hear my vow, ye powers of Hell, and tremble--I
will send you as many black fiends as there are grains of dust in this
handful of ashes which I scatter on my head."

With a terrible imprecation, Barthelemy flung into the air a handful of
ashes which he had clutched and, as they floated slowly down upon his
head, he sank on his knees and, sobbing convulsively, kissed the
threshold.

"My God, my God, if it was Thy will to punish me, why didst Thou not
dash me against a cliff during the raging of a tempest, why didst Thou
not let me perish by arms, by hunger? Why didst Thou not make me mount
the scaffold? Why didst Thou permit Thy angels to atone for my crimes?"

He sobbed bitterly, while the ashes he had scattered to bear witness to
his vow, drifted slowly down upon his head.

* * * * *

A traveller, driving his mule before him, came through the path leading
from the forest. Barthelemy barred his way. The man started at sight of
the fierce-looking stranger and began to appeal to his patron saint.

"Whence do you come?" asked the pirate.

"From La Vega. I bring good news. The insurgents are conquered and
already hang along the coast."

"Bad news for me! Have none of them escaped?"

"A few hundred took refuge in a captured ship and fled to Africa."

"I thank you. You can go on."

The messenger continued his journey, shaking his head; he could not
understand why any one should regret that the rebels were conquered, or
rejoice because a number of them had escaped.

* * * * *

"What has happened to you, captain?" asked Moody, whe