Revenge lay to to take in water. Far better water than that which had
been brought from Belize.

"Do you want to go ashore in the boat, boy?" said Blackbeard, really
mindful of the health of this projected member of his family. "It may
help your appetite to use your legs."

Dickory did not care to go anywhere, but he had hardly said so when a
revulsion of feeling came upon him, and turning away so that his face
might not be noticed, he said he thought the land air might do him good.
While the men were at work carrying their pails from the well-known
spring to the water-barrels in the boat, Dickory strolled about to view
the scenery, for it could never have been expected that a first
lieutenant in uniform should help to carry water. At first the scenery
did not appear to be very interesting, and Dickory wandered slowly from
here to there, then sat down under a tree. Presently he rose and went to
another tree, a little farther away from the boat and the men at the
spring. Here he quietly took off his shoes and his stockings, and,
having nothing else to do, made a little bundle of them, listlessly
tying them to his belt; then he rose and walked away somewhat brisker,
but not in the direction of the boat. He did not hurry, but even stopped
sometimes to look at things, but he still walked a little briskly, and
always away from the boat. He had been so used, this child of outdoor
life, to going about the world barefooted, that it was no wonder that he
walked briskly, being relieved of his encumbering shoes and stockings.

After a time he heard a shout behind him, and turning saw three men of
the boat's crew upon a little eminence, calling to him. Then he moved
more quickly, always away from the boat, and with his head turned he saw
the men running towards him, and their shouts became louder and wilder.
Then he set off on a good run, and presently heard a pistol shot. This
he knew was to frighten him and make him stop, but he ran the faster and
soon turned the corner of a bit of woods. Then he was away at the top of
his speed, making for a jungle of foliage not a quarter of a mile
before him. Shouts he heard, and more shots, but he caught sight of no
pursuers. Urged on even as they were by the fear of returning to the
ship without Dickory, they could not expect to match, in their heavy
boots, the stag-like speed of this barefooted bounder.

After a time Dickory stopped running, for his path, always straight
away, so far a