ounced at length. "I think we have had
enough plate ships lately. This is a Dutch lugger from Samarcand, laden
with raisins and fig-paste and lichi nuts and cream dates. I shouldn't
wonder if she had narghiles too, and scimitars,--I need a new
scimitar,--and all sorts of things. Up helm, and crowd on all sail in
pursuit!"

"Ay, ay, sir! stunsels?"

"Stunsels, balloon-jibs, topgallant spinnakers, royal skyscrapers,
everything you can think of. Ha! we are off! Row hard now, Bill! The
lubbers are asleep, and we shall run them down easily. Are the cutlasses
ready?"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Ho! we are gaining on them. Ho, ho! bend to your oars, my hearties!
grappling-chains ready there! ho! on to the chase!"

Now Phil was very busy making a fly for lake trout, and explaining the
manufacture of it to Peggy; and Peggy was absorbed in watching him, and
in counting the number of separate aches she felt after her first lesson
in rowing. Moreover, the bloody pirates had conducted their conversation
in a half-whisper, and the wind was the other way. But suddenly, Peggy
looked up and saw them, now at only a few yards distance.

"Good gracious!" she cried. "What is it? Do look, Phil!"

Phil looked hastily around; chuckled, and fell into an attitude of
abject terror. "Mercy! mercy!" he cried; cowering down in his seat.
("It's the kids; please be frightened!) Oh! what will become of us? We
are lost!"

"Oh! save me, spare me!" cried Peggy, following suit, and clasping her
hands in supplication.

The pirate bark ran alongside, and grappling-irons were tossed aboard
the ill-fated merchantman. The Pirate Captain, standing in the stern of
his vessel, surveyed them with baleful looks.

"What ship is this?"

"The _Weeping Woodchuck_, Captain Zebedee Moses of Squedunk, please your
Honor's Worship!"

"Well I am Captain England, and this is the _Gory Griffin_. If you have
a cargo of raisins and fig-paste and cream dates, hand them over;
otherwise, prepare to walk the plank this instant!"

"Oh, spare us! spare this tender maiden!" cried Phil. "I have no
fig-paste, but wouldn't fresh doughnuts do as well, O man of blood?
Life is sweet--and fish is needed for supper!"

At these remarks the pirate's ferocious scowl relaxed somewhat. "Hand
over your doughnuts!" he said, briefly. "This once I spare ye, but cross
not my path again! I jolly well forgot about tea," he added, as Phil
tossed him some doughnuts; "I suppose it must be about time