this Dickory shook his head. "No," said he, "she is not on board."

"Then let her go," cried Bonnet, "I have no time to fool with the
beggarly hulk. Let her go! I have other business here. And now, sir,"
addressing Dickory, "what of my daughter? You have got your breath now,
tell me quickly! What is your message from her? When did you sail from
Bridgetown? Did she expect me to overhaul that brig? How in the name of
all the devils could she expect that?"

"Come, come now, Master Bonnet!" exclaimed the Scotchman, "ye are
talkin' o' your daughter, the good an' beautiful Mistress Kate, an' no
matter whether ye are a pirate or no, ye must keep a guard on your
tongue. An' if ye think she knew where to find ye, ye must consider her
an angel an' no' to be spoken o' in the same breath as de'ils."

"I didn't sail from Bridgetown," said Dickory, "and your daughter is not
there. I come from Jamaica, where she now is, and was bound to
Bridgetown to seek news of you, hoping that you had returned there."

"Which, if he had," said Ben, who found it very difficult to keep quiet,
"ye would hae been under the necessity o' givin' your message to his
bones hangin' in chains."

Bonnet looked savagely at Ben, but he had no time even to curse.

"Jamaica!" he cried, "how did she get there? Tell me quickly, sir--tell
me quickly! Do you hear?"

Dickory was now quite recovered and he told his story, not too quickly,
and with much attention to details. Even the account of the unusual
manner in which he and Kate had disembarked from the pirate vessel was
given without curtailment, nor with any attention to the approving
grunts of Ben Greenway. When he came to speak of the letter which Mr.
Newcombe had written her, and which had thrown her into such despair on
account of its shortcomings, Captain Bonnet burst into a fury of
execration.

"And she never got my letter?" he cried, "and knew not what had happened
to me. It is that wife of mine, that cruel wild-cat! I sent the letter
to my house, thinking, of course, it would find my daughter there. For
where else should she be?"

"An' a maist extraordinary wise mon ye were to do that," said Ben
Greenway, "for ye might hae known, if ye had ever thought o' it at all,
that the place where your wife was, was the place where your daughter
couldna be, an' ye no' wi' her. If ye had spoke to me about it, it would
hae gone to Mr. Newcombe, an' then ye'd hae known that she'd be sure to
get it."

At this