ped in it.

"'Twas like this when we swum ashore and found the pirogue, Cap'n
Bonnet," said Joe Hawkridge. "A curious kind o' white smother from the
swamp."

"And how long did it hang thus?" was the impatient query.

"When the sun was well up, sir, it seemed to burn away like. It has the
same look as the fever-breedin' vapors of Darien and Yucatan."

Captain Bonnet called his boats back and was in an ugly humor. There was
no towing the brig through this bothersome fog which obscured every mark
and left a man bewildered. And instead of surprising Blackbeard
unprepared, he would now have time to make his ship ready. However,
Stede Bonnet was not a man to wring his hands because a well-laid scheme
went wrong. Without delay the crew was assembled in the waist and he
spoke to them from the break of the poop.

"We shall make this weather serve our purpose, lads. Fill the boats,
every man to his billet. The mates will see to it that the oars are
well muffled. Silence above all things. Nimbly now."

There was no need to say more. They fathomed the strategy which would
enable them to approach Blackbeard's ship unheard and unseen and then
swarm over her side in a ferocious onslaught. Cheerily they took stock
of their weapons, drank a health from a tub of stiff grog, and lined up
for Captain Bonnet's inspection. They wore clean clothes, the best they
could find in their bags, as has always been the sailor's habit when
going into action. The ship was left in charge of the navigator with a
few men who were the least stalwart or experienced in such desperate
adventures as this.

Stede Bonnet went in command of the largest boat to lead the party and
single out Blackbeard as his own particular foe. There was a large
chance that he might not return and he therefore left instructions for
the disposal of the brig, advising the navigator to take her to Charles
Town and there sue for the king's pardon in behalf of those on board. He
shook hands with Jack Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge, bade them be careful
of their own safety, and with no more ado took his place in the boat.
The flotilla stole away from the brig, sunburned, savage men with bright
weapons for whom life was like a throw of the dice, and the pearly fog
concealed them when they had passed no more than a cable-length away. So
skilfully was the sound of the oars deadened that you would not have
guessed that boats were moving across the harbor.

"Blackbeard fights like a tige