I discovered that sorrow comes not so much from the outward; it comes
from the heart, from the man himself. Wherever I went I could not
shake off the shadow of self, and thus I was never free from sorrow and
pain.

At the end of eight years there was a change in my life. I was now
more than thirty. My softer feelings, all but one, had gone. I was as
hard and callous as the cliffs which surround the Cornish coast. At
this time we were sailing the Indian seas, and our vessel was laden
with a valuable cargo. The men were lazily standing around on the
deck, while the captain stood with his glass to his eye eagerly
scanning a distant object.

We took no notice for a while, then it was whispered along the deck
that the captain had seen a curious, suspicious-looking craft that was
evidently bearing down upon us. This whisper was soon confirmed by the
fact that our vessel's course was altered, and every stitch of canvas
that she could carry was hoisted. In spite of this, however, we saw
that the other boat was gaining rapidly upon us, and must in a very few
hours overtake us.

I saw that a great fear had seized the crew, for there was but little
doubt that our pursuer was a pirate. For myself I did not care. I was
indifferent to life, and it mattered not what became of me. It was,
however, in my nature to fight for the side on which I found myself, so
like the rest I prepared for the struggle. When the two vessels were
near each other our pursuer hoisted a black flag, then we were sure of
what would follow.

Never was a crew braver than ours; every man fought for dear life, but
we were no match for the assailants. They were double our number and
armed to the teeth. At length we were overpowered and bound. The
vessel was no longer in our possession, and the company to which she
belonged would have to suffer a great loss. It was not that of which
we were thinking, however. Every man was in terrible dread as to what
his own future would be.

The captain of the pirate ship was one of the most striking men I ever
saw. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, and was of Spanish
extraction. His eyes and hair were as black as the raven's wing, and
his skin was of a dark, olive colour. His crew were likewise
Spaniards, plainly outlaws of the worst character. But I noticed that
they all loved and obeyed their chief. I did not wonder at their
obeying him, his personality was so strong, but I did wonder at their
l