ine as this in the bedlam
aboard the _Revenge_. Stede Bonnet knew how to slacken the reins and
when to apply the curb. His men were loyal because he dealt out justice
as well as severity.

"The captain says we must go below when the action commences, Joe,"
dismally observed Jack Cockrell.

"It goes against the grain but we will not dispute him," was the sage
reply. "We needn't be idle. You can lend a hand with the powder or pass
the water buckets to douse the fire if she gets ablaze. And there's the
wounded to carry into the cockpit and the blood to mop up, and----"

"Enough o' that," cried Jack, getting pale about the gills. "You take it
like a butcher!"

"What else is it, you big moon-calf? Set me safe ashore in that Charles
Town of yours, and I hope ne'er to see another weapon barring a spoon
and a knife to cut my vittles."

"There is sense in that," agreed young Master Cockrell.

Smartly handled, the brig crept in as far as she dared go without more
light by which to avoid the shallower water. The anchor was dropped to a
short cable and buoyed ready to slip. It was estimated that the distance
from Blackbeard's ship was somewhat more than a mile. The stars faded
and the cloudless sky began to take on a roseate hue. The light breeze
which had breathed like a cool zephyr through the night was dying in
languid catspaws. Gradually the dark outline of coastal swamp and forest
was uncurtained. And eager eyes were able to discern the yellow spars
and blurred hull of the _Revenge_ against the gloomy background.

Stede Bonnet's brig was, of course, pricked out much more sharply with
the seaward horizon behind her. To her crew, in this hushed morning,
there came a prolonged, shrill note that was like the call of a bird. It
trilled with a silvery sweetness and was repeated over and over again.

"A bos'n's pipe," said Captain Bonnet, a hand cupped at his ear.
"Blackbeard has sighted us and is mustering his crew."

So faint was the breeze that the command was given to man two boats and
take a hawser from the brig to tow her through the inner channel. Before
they were in motion, however, the pearly mist began to roll out of the
Cherokee swamp as if a great cauldron were steaming. The weather favored
it, heat in the air and little wind. The mist seemed also to rise from
the water, hanging low but as thick as a summer fog. It shrouded the
coast and Blackbeard's ship and crept out across the harbor until the
brig was envelo