shall say it
was et up--the rats will have got it before I get to his cabin, in any
case, an' then who's to be the wiser? Besides, there's no boy on this
ship. What a fancy!" he muttered. "He is an ill man, is Claggett
Chew. May his bones rot! I need do no more for him than what I have a
mind to, knowing as many of his misdeeds as I do. Hah!" He rubbed his
hands with anticipation. "Any day, Simon Gosler could be Cap'n of the
good _Vulture_, an he say the word to the right quarter!" His eyes, no
longer hidden behind black patches, narrowed with cunning. "And in the
meantime, who gets the best share of the spoils?"

[Illustration]

The beggar broke off in a cackle of glee, rubbing his dirty gnarled
hands with satisfaction, and turned away to go back to the Captain's
cabin with his message.

Chris flew away in the direction of the cook's galley, where as a fly
he found it easy enough to eat his fill of meat and what few good
things the _Vulture_ afforded.

Refreshed, he flew hard against the wind in order not to be blown off
the ship entirely, up to the safety of a part of the rigging from
where he could ponder on what he had heard, and see whatever there was
to be seen.

Tahiti seemed to have been left far behind, for the _Vulture_ was well
out to sea, and no smallest cloud on the horizon gave any hint of
distant land. The sailors had set the sails and a good breeze filled
the black canvas of the pirate ship. The pirates themselves, still
surly from having eaten and drunk too well after the fight of the day
before, were quarrelsome and tired and lay about in sprawling groups
on the deck far below. Looking aft, Chris saw Simon Gosler hobbling
from the Captain's cabin, and Osterbridge Hawsey's graceful,
overdressed figure outlined in the doorway. On an impulse, Chris flew
down to hear what they were saving.

"I thank you, Gosler, for your message," Osterbridge was saying, "for
Captain Chew seems much relieved to have heard it, and I think will
now rest quietly and sleep. Who is it, you say, who has some knowledge
of medicine--the ship's carpenter?"

Here Osterbridge Hawsey rolled his eyes upward and shrugged his
expressive shoulders.

"Dear me! At least to be a sawbones, he has the saw!" he said
disdainfully.

"And knows how to drive a nail into a coffin too, master," whined the
beggar.

"Enough!" cried Osterbridge in sudden anger. "Fetch him at once, and
tell the cook, as you pass the galley, to bring the C