ajor Bonnet had
gone off in his vessel, which had sailed out of the harbour in the
night, showing no light. And, although many people had talked of this
strange proceeding, nobody knew whether he had gone of his own free will
or against it.

"Of course it was against his will," cried Dickory. "The ship was
stolen, and they have stolen him with it. The wretches! The beasts!" And
then he went up into the town.

Some men were talking at the door of a baker's shop, and the baker
himself, a stout young man, came out.

"Oh, yes," said he, "we know now what it means. The good Major Bonnet
has gone off pirating; he thinks he can make more money that way than by
attending to his plantation. The townspeople suspected him last night,
and now they know what he is."

At this moment Master Dickory jumped upon the baker, and both went
down. When Dickory got up, the baker remained where he was, and it was
plain enough to everybody that the nerves and muscles of even a vigorous
young man were greatly weakened by the confined occupation of a baker.

Dickory now went further to ask more, and he soon heard enough. The
respectable Major Bonnet had gone away in his own ship with a savage
crew, far beyond the needs of the vessel, and if he had not gone
pirating, what had he gone for? And to this question Dickory replied
every time: "He went because he was taken away." He would not give up
his faith in Kate Bonnet's father.

"And Greenway," the people said. "Why should they take him? He is of no
good on a ship."

On this, Dickory's heart fell further. He had been troubled about the
Scotchman, but had tried not to think of him.

"The scoundrels have stolen them both, with the vessel," he said; and as
he spoke his soul rose upward at the thought of what he had done for
Kate; and as that had been done, what mattered it after all what had
happened to other people?

Five minutes afterward a man came running through the town with the news
that old Bonnet's daughter, Miss Kate, had also gone away in the ship.
She was not at home; she was not in the town.

"That settles it!" said some people. "The black-hearted rascal! He has
gone of his own accord, and he has taken Greenway and his fair young
daughter with him."

"And what do you think of that!" said some to the doubter Dickory.

"I don't believe a word of it!" said he; and not wishing on his own
responsibility to tell what he knew of Mistress Kate Bonnet, he rowed up
the river toward