ptain Wellsby
looked in vain for her colors. At length he saw a flag whip from the
spanker gaff. He laid down the glass with a profound sigh.

The flag was black with a sinister device, a white blotch whose outline
suggested a human skull.

Captain Wellsby gazed again and carefully examined the two sloops which
were acting in concert with the thirty-gun ship. It was a squadron, and
the brave _Plymouth Adventure_ was hopelessly outmatched. To fight meant
a slaughter with never a chance of survival.

The passengers had made no great clamor until the menacing ship drew
close enough for them to descry the dreadful pennant which showed as a
sable blot against the evening sky. Two women fainted and others were
seized with violent hysteria. Their shrill screams were so distressing
that the skipper ordered them to be lugged below and shut in their
cabins. Mr. Peter Forbes had plumped himself down upon a coil of hawser,
as if utterly disgusted, but he implored the captain to blaze away at
the besotted scoundrels as long as two planks held together. The
Honorable Secretary of the Council had been too outspoken in his
opinions of pirates to expect kindness at their hands.

The sailors also expected no quarter but they sullenly crouched at the
gun-carriages, gripping the handspikes and blowing the matches while
they waited for the word. The pirate ship was now reaching to windward
of the _Plymouth Adventure_, heeling over until her decks were in full
view. Upon the poop stood a man of the most singular appearance. He was
squat and burly and immensely broad across the shoulders. What made him
grotesque was a growth of beard which swept almost to his waist and
covered his face like a hairy curtain. In it were tied bright streamers
of crimson ribbon. Evidently this fantastic monster was proud of his
whiskers and liked to adorn them.

The laced hat with a feather in it, the skirted coat of buff and blue
which flapped around his bow-legs, and the rows of gold buttons across
his chest were in slovenly imitation of a naval uniform. But there was
nothing like naval discipline on those crowded decks where half the crew
appeared to be drunk and the rest of them cursing each other.

Captain Jonathan Wellsby smothered a groan and his stern mouth twitched
as he said to his chief mate:

"God's mercy on us! 'Tis none other than the bloody Edward Teach,--that
calls himself Blackbeard! My information was that he still cruised off
the Spanis