eak nothing but Spanish I soon left him alone, and fell to
pacing the deck, immersed in my own thoughts. These were far from
pleasant ones, as I reviewed again the strange situation in which I
found myself. Circumstances had played me a sorry trick. Without
plan, almost without effort, I had drifted into a position of utmost
delicacy. Any accident or mistake might lead to disastrous results.
Not only my own life, but the life of the young woman below, could be
endangered by a single careless word, or act. The whole affair seemed
more a nightmare than a reality. I was actually serving as first
officer on a pirate ship in search of vessels to rob on the high seas,
commanding a crew of West Indian cut-throats--the very scum of hell,
and under the order of a Portuguese devil, whose ambition coolly
plotted murder. I was sailing under the black flag, to be hung if
captured, compelled to act out the masquerade, a satellite of the most
infamous villain who ever sacked a merchantman. Why, the very name of
Sanchez had been horror to me in the past--yet here I actually was in
charge of the deck of his death ship, searching for new victims, and
only hoping that the arch villain might live to overthrow the even
fouler demon who would succeed him if he died. Already I knew murder
had been done; that the coming morning would reveal some hideous
tragedy, on which, perhaps my fate would depend. Somewhere below in
the dark lay a dead man, his sightless eyes staring upward. The curse
of crime was upon the vessel, and this, possibly, was only the
beginning, whose end could not be foreseen. And for what was I there?
The answer was not upon my lips, but in my heart--Dorothy Fairfax. I
bowed my head on the rail, and stared out over the dark water, but I
saw only her face. No, I would not turn back; would not fail her. Let
the end be death, and disgrace, I meant to fight grimly on until that
end came. In that hour I knew she was more to me than life, or even
honor. Far more than mere duty bound me; I was prisoner to love.

The dawn came cold and gray, but with clearing skies. The force of the
wind increased, becoming unsteady, and causing a choppy sea, so that I
felt impelled to lower the topsails and take a reef in the larger
canvas. Nothing was reported in sight, but to reassure myself, I
climbed into the main crosstrees, and swept the horizon with a glass.
Not so much as a speck rewarded my efforts, and I descended the
ratlines, shouting to