The Jolly Roger Tales: 60+ Pirate Novels, Treasure-Hunt Tales & Sea Adventures. Лаймен Фрэнк Баум

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      Chapter II.

       The Merchant Trader, Plymouth Adventure

       Table of Contents

      Rubbing his ear which Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes had soundly boxed before releasing him, Jack marched along in gloomy silence until he was conducted into his small, unplastered room. His uncle stalked out and shot the ponderous bolt behind him. Passing through the kitchen, he halted to scold the black cook as a lazy slattern and then sat himself down to a lonely meal. Jack was a problem which the finicky, middle-aged bachelor had been unable to solve. He had undertaken the care of the boy after his parents had died in the same week of a mysterious fever which ravaged the settlement. The uncle failed to realize how fast this strapping youngster was growing into manhood. He disliked punishing him and was usually unhappy after one of these stormy episodes.

      Mr. Peter Forbes pecked at his dinner with little appetite and his plump face was clouded. Shoving back his chair, he paced the floor in a fidgety manner and, at length, opened the door of Jack's room. The hungry prisoner was lounging upon a wooden settle, his chin in his hand, while he sullenly stared at the wall. Always mindful of his manners, he slowly rose to his feet and waited for another scolding.

      "I wish we might avoid such scenes as these, Jack," sadly observed Uncle Peter, his hot temper cooled. "No sooner do you leave my sight than some new mischief is afoot."

      "You do not understand, sir," impatiently protested the nephew. "In your eyes I am still the urchin who came out from England clinging to his dear mother's skirts. Would ye have me pass my time with girls or have no other friends than snuffy old Parson Throckmorton, my tutor, who tries to pound the Greek and Latin into my thick skull?"

      "He is a wise and ripened scholar who wastes his effort," was the dry comment. "Most of the lads of the town are coarse louts who pattern after their ribald elders, Jack. They will lead you into evil courses."

      "I shall always pray God to be a gentleman, sir," was the spirited response, "but I must learn to fight my own battles. Were it not for hardy pastimes with these other stout lads, think you I could have cracked the crown of a six-foot pirate?"

      Uncle Peter gazed at the boy before he spoke. Tanned and hard and muscular, this was a nephew to be proud of, a man in deeds if not in years, and there was unswerving honesty in the straight mouth and firm chin. The guardian sighed and then annoyance got the better of his affection as he burst out:

      "Perdition take all pirates! You were cozened by this hell-rake of a Stede Bonnet and thought it a rare pleasure! John Spencer Cockrell, own nephew to the Secretary of the Colony!"

      "I did but copy older men of fair repute," demurely answered Jack, a twinkle in his eye. "Graybeards of Parson Throckmorton's flock traffick in merchandise with the pirates and are mighty civil to them, I note."

      "A vile business!" cried Uncle Peter. "It was decided at the recent conference in Virginia that I should go to England as a delegate to lay before His Majesty's Government such evidence as might invoke aid in our campaign against the pirates. It was my intention to leave you in care of Parson Throckmorton, Jack, but I have now resolved to take you with me. And you will remain at school in England. No more of this boon comradeship with villains like Stede Bonnet."

      Poor Jack looked most unhappy at the tidings. It was not at all in accord with his ambitions. Here was worse punishment than he had dreamed his uncle could inflict. Dolefully he exclaimed:

      "To live in tame and stupid England, locked up in a school? Why, I am big enough to join the forays against the Indians, or to fight bloody battles against the pirates if you really mean to chastise them. But I cannot promise to attack Captain Bonnet. He is a friend of mine."

      "You shall come to see him hanged," shouted Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, very red in the face. "The merchant ship Plymouth Adventure is expected soon, and you and I shall take passage in her for Merry England, thanking heaven to see the last of the barbarous Carolinas for a time."

      "Thank your own thanks, sir," grumbled Jack. "Captain Bonnet may be a pirate but he is not nearly so heartless as my own uncle. He asked me to dinner at the tavern. I am faint for lack of food. My stomach sticks to my ribs. 'Tis a great pity you were never a growing boy yourself. For a platter of cold meat and bread I will take my oath to chop you a pile of firewood as high as the kitchen."

      The gaoler relented and bustled out to ransack the pantry. Having demolished a joint and a loaf, young John Spencer Cockrell was in a mood much less melancholy. In fact, when he swung the axe behind the fence of hewn palings, he was humming the refrain of that wicked ditty: "Yo, Ho, with the Rum Below!" He was tremendously sorry that he had been snatched away from the engaging society of Captain Bonnet and his wild crew, and the future had a gloomy aspect, but even these grievances were forgotten when he descried, in a lane which led past the house, the lovely maid whose cause he had championed at the wharf.

      She was Dorothy, only daughter of Colonel Malcolm Stuart who commanded the militia forces of the Colony. Although she was the elder by two or three years and gave herself the airs of a young lady, Jack Cockrell hopelessly, secretly adored her. It was an anti-climax for a hero to be serving out his sentence at the wood-pile and he turned his back to the gate while he made the chips fly. But Dorothy had no intention of ignoring him. She paused with a smile so winsome that Jack's heart fluttered and he dropped the axe to grasp her outstretched hand. He squeezed it so hard that Dorothy winced as she said:

      "What a masterful man it is, but please don't crush my poor fingers. I fled from those pirates at the wharf, Jack, instead of waiting to offer you my most humble thanks. Will you accept them now? They come straight from the heart."

      For such a reward as this Jack would have fought a dozen pirates. Baring his head, he murmured bashfully:

      "A trifling service, Mistress Dorothy, and 'tis my devout hope that I may always be ready in time of need."

      "So?" she exclaimed, with mischief in her eyes. "I believe you would slay a pirate each morning before breakfast, should I ask it."

      "Or any other small favors like that," gallantly returned Jack.

      "A proper courtier," cried Dorothy. "My father will thank you when he returns from North Carolina. When I ventured to the wharf this morning it was in hopes of sighting his armed sloop."

      The dwelling of Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes was at some distance from the tavern which was on the sloping ground that overlooked the harbor, among the spreading live-oaks and magnolias. Borne on the breeze came the sounds of Stede Bonnet's pirates at their revels, pistol shots, СКАЧАТЬ