I could find a ship that would take me back to Jamaica! And I would
take you too, Ben Greenway, for it is a foul shame that a good man
should spend his days in such vile company."

Ben shook his head. "I'll stand by Master Bonnet," he said, "until the
day comes when I shall bid him fareweel at the door o' hell. I can go no
farther than that, Dickory, no farther than that!"

From forecastle to quarter-deck, from bowsprit to taffrail, Blackbeard
scrutinized the Revenge.

"What mean you, dog?" he said to Bittern, Bonnet being at a little
distance; "you tell me he is no mariner. This is a brave ship and well
appointed."

"Ay, ay," said the sailing-master, "it has the neatness of his kitchen
or his storehouses; but if his cables were coiled on his yard-arms or
his anchor hung up to dry upon the main shrouds, he would not know that
anything was wrong. It was Big Sam Loftus who fitted out the Revenge,
and I myself have kept everything in good order and ship-shape ever
since I took command."

"Command!" growled Blackbeard. "For a charge of powder I would knock in
the side of your head for speaking with such disrespect of the brave Sir
Nightcap."

The supper in the cabin of the Revenge was a better meal than the
voracious Blackbeard had partaken of for many a year, if indeed he had
ever sat down to such a sumptuous repast. Before him was food and drink
fit for a stout and hungry sea-faring man, and there were wines and
dainties which would have had fit place upon the table of a gentleman.

Blackbeard was in high spirits and tossed off cup after cup and glass
after glass of the choicest wine and the most fiery spirits. He clapped
his well-mannered host upon the back as he shouted some fragment of a
wild sea-song.

"And who is this?" he cried, as they rose from the table and he first
caught sight of Ben Greenway. "Is this your chaplain? He looks as
sanctimonious as an empty rum cask. And that baby boy there, what do you
keep him for? Are they for sale? I would like to buy the boy and let him
keep my accounts. I warrant he has enough arithmetic in his head to
divide the prize-moneys among the men."

"He is no slave," said Bonnet; "he came to this vessel to bring me a
message from my daughter, but he is an ill-bred stripling, and can
neither read nor write."

"Then let's kill him!" cried Blackbeard, and drawing his pistol he sent
a bullet about two inches above Dickory's head.

At this the men who had gathered themselv