ere was something said about lowering a ladder, but the men who were
hauling on the line were in a hurry to satisfy their curiosity, so up
came Dickory straight from the water to the rail, and that proceeding
so increased the squeezing that the poor fellow fell upon the deck
scarcely able to gasp. When the rope was loosened the half-drowned and
almost breathless Dickory raised himself and gave two or three deep
breaths, but he could not speak, despite the fact that a dozen rough
voices were asking him who he was and what he wanted.

With the water pouring from him in streams, and his breath coming from
him in puffs, he looked about him with great earnestness.

Suddenly a man rushed through the crowd of pirates and stooped to look
at the person who had so strangely come aboard. Then he gave a shout.
"It is Dickory Charter," he cried, "Dickory Charter, the son o' old Dame
Charter! Ye Dickory! an' how in the name o' all that's blessed did ye
come here? Master Bonnet! Master Bonnet!" he shouted to the captain, who
now stood by, "it is young Dickory Charter, of Bridgetown. He was on
board this vessel before we sailed, wi' Mistress Kate an' me. The last
time I saw her he was wi' her."

"What!" exclaimed Bonnet, "with my daughter?"

"Ay, ay!" said Greenway, "it must have been a little before she went on
shore."

"Young man!" cried Bonnet, stooping towards Dickory, "when did you last
see my daughter? Do you know anything of her?"

The young man opened his mouth, but he could not yet do much in the way
of speaking, but he managed to gasp, "I come from her, I am bringing you
a message."

"A message from Kate!" shouted Bonnet, now in a state of wild
excitement. "Here you, Greenway, lift up the other arm, and we will take
him to my cabin. Quick, man! Quick, man! he must have some spirits and
dry clothes. Make haste now! A message from my daughter!"

"If that's so," said Greenway, as he and Bonnet hurried the young man
aft, "ye'd better no' be in too great haste to get his message out o'
him or ye'll kill him wi' pure recklessness."

Bonnet took the advice, and before many minutes Dickory was in dry
clothes and feeling the inspiriting influence of a glass of good old
rum. Now came Black Paul, wanting to know if he should sink the brig and
be done with her, for they couldn't lie by in such weather.

"Don't you fire on that ship!" yelled Bonnet, "don't you dare it! For
all I know, my daughter may be on board of her."

At