of cheer was when his foot struck a round
object as solid as a round shot and he picked up a small Dutch cheese.
This renewed his courage and he ransacked the corners on hands and
knees. Blackbeard's treasure chest was not half so precious as a side of
salted fish which he ran down by scent, saying to himself:

"With this rancid cheese and the slab o' ancient cod, ye could smell my
course a league to wind'ard."

In a crumpled sack he found a few pounds of what seemed to be wheat
flour, by the feel and taste of it. Poor stuff as it was, dry and
uncooked, he added it to his stock.

"Rubbishy vittles," he sighed. "They may keep a man alive but he'll
choke to death a-swallowin' of 'em."

Water was the desperate necessity and it was not to be sought for in the
storeroom. There was rum enough, the place reeked with it, but to
thirsty throats it was so much liquid fire. Joe was resolved not to
return to Jack Cockrell without a few pints of water if reckless
enterprise could procure it. Was the cabin still empty? He stood for a
long time and listened but there was not a sound beyond the door of the
passageway. Taking his courage in both hands he pushed at the door and
it creaked open on rusty hinges. Light as a feather he moved one foot in
front of the other, halted, advanced another step, and so entered the
large cabin in which Stede Bonnet had lived with a Spartan simplicity.

What Joe coveted was the porous jar or water-monkey which hung suspended
in a netting above the table. It was kept filled, he knew, in order to
cool the tepid water from the casks. A heavenly sight it was to him to
see the drops sweating on its rounded sides. He snatched it down and was
about to make a swift retirement, but still spread upon the table he
noted the chart of the Carolina and Virginia coasts which he had pored
over with Stede Bonnet. This he delayed to roll up and tuck under one
arm, not that he expected to employ it himself, but to make cruising
more difficult for Blackbeard.

This bit of strategy held him a moment too long. He shot a glance over
his shoulder, alarmed by a tread on the companion ladder. Horrified he
beheld a pair of Spanish boots with scarlet, crinkled morocco tops, and
they encased bandy legs which were strong and thick. What saved the
miserable young Hawkridge was that the occupant of these splendid boots
paused half-way down the ladder to shout a profane command or two in
those husky accents so feared by all lawf