"That depends, Jimmy," I said.

"'N' we'd ought to take them pearls," broke in Lafitte. "Didn't we lick him?"

"We did, yes; twice." And in my assent I felt, again, a fierce satisfaction in the first conquest of our invader, that of body to body, eye to eye; rather than in the one where I brought intellect to aid in war. "But there are two ways of being a pirate. Let us see if we can not win treasure by taking a chance in logic, and so be modern pirates."

They did not understand me, and went mute, but at last Jimmy resumed his catechism. "Who owns the place where you live, Black Bart?"

"I do."

"But how much?"

"Some five or six miles."

"Gee! That must be over a hundred acres. I didn't know anybody owned that much land. Where'd you get it?"

"In part from my father."

"What business was he in?"

"He was a pirate, Jimmy, or at least, they said he was. But my mother was not.—I will tell you," I added suddenly: "my father owned a great deal of timber land long ago, and iron, and oil, and copper, when nobody cared much for them. They say, now, he stole some of them, I don't know. In those days people weren't so particular. The more he got, the more he wanted. He never was a boy like you and me. He educated me as a lawyer, so that I could take care of his business and his property, and he trained me in the pirate business the best he could, and I made money too, all I wanted. You see, my father could never get enough, but I did; perhaps, because my mother wasn't a pirate, you see. So, when I got enough, my father and mother both died, and when I began to see that, maybe, my father had taken a little more than our share, I began trying to do something for people ... but I can't talk about that, of course."

"Well, why not?" demanded Lafitte. "Go on."

"A fellow doesn't like to."

"But what did you do?"

"Very little. I found I could not do very much. I gave some buildings to schools, that sort of thing. No one thanked me much. A good many called me a Socialist."

"What's that—a Socialist?"

"I can't tell you. Nobody knows. But really, I suppose, a Socialist is a man born before the world got used to steam and electricity. Those things made a lot of changes, you see, and in the confusion some people didn't get quite as square a deal as they deserved; or at least, they didn't think they had. It takes time, really, as I suppose, to settle down after any great change. It's like moving a house."

"I see," said Jimmy sagely. "But, Black Bart, you always seemed to me like as if, now, well, like you was studyin' or something, somehow. Ain't you never had no good times before?"

"No. This is about the first really good time I ever had in all my life. You see, you can't really understand things that you look at from a long way off—you've got to get right in with folks to know what folks are. Don't you think so?"

"I know it!" answered Jimmy, with conviction. And I recalled, though he did not, the fact that he bathed daily, Lafitte weekly, yet no gulf was fixed between their portions of the general humanity.

"It must be nice to be rich," ventured Lafitte presently. "I'm going to be, some day."

"Is that why you go a-pirating?" I smiled.

"Maybe. But mostly, because I like it."

"It's a sort of game," said L'Olonnois.

"All life is a sort of game, my hearties," said I. "What you two just have said covers most of the noble trade of piracy and nearly all of the pretty game of life. You are wise as I am, wise as any man, indeed."

"What I like about you, Black Bart," resumed L'Olonnois, naively, "is, you seem always fair."

I flushed at this, suddenly, and pushed back my plate. "Jimmy," said I at last, "I would rather have heard that, from you, than to hear I had made a million dollars from pearls or anything else. For that has always been my great hope and wish—that some day I could teach myself always to be fair—not to deceive anybody, most of all not myself; in short, to be fair. Brother, I thank you, if you really believe I have succeeded to some extent."

"Why ain't you always jolly, like you was havin' a good time, then?" demanded my blue-eyed inquisitor. "Honor bright!"

"Must it be honor bright?"

"Yes."

"Then I will tell you. It is because of the first chapter of Genesis, Jimmy."

"What's that?"

"Fie! Fie! Jimmy, haven't you read that?" He shook his head.

"I've read a little about the fights," he said, "when Saul 'n' David 'n' a lot of 'em slew them tens of thousands. But Genesis was dry."

"Do you remember any place where it says 'Male and female created He them'?"

"Oh, yes; but what of it? That's dry."

"Is it, though?" I exclaimed. "And you with an Auntie Helena, and a brother Black Bart. Jimmy L'Olonnois, little do you know what you say!"

"Well, now," interrupted the ruthless soul of Jean Lafitte, "how about them pearls?"

"That's so," assented Jimmy. "Pearls is booty."

"Very well, then, shipmates," I assented, "as soon as we have washed the dishes, we will see what can be done with the enemy yonder."

We found our two clammers, the young man and his crone of a mother, up betimes and hard at work, as evil-looking a pair as ever I saw. The man's face was still puffed and discolored, where my fists had punished him, and his disposition had not improved overnight. His hag-like dam also regarded us with suspicion and disfavor, I could note, and I saw her glance from me to her son, making mental comparisons; and guessed she had heard explanations regarding black eyes which did not wholly satisfy her.

They had already roasted open and examined quite a heap of shells by the time we arrived, and I inquired, pleasantly, if they had found anything. The man answered surlily that they had not; but something made me feel suspicious, since they had made so early a start. I saw him now and then wipe his hands on his overalls, and several times noted that as he did so, his middle finger projected down below the others, as though he were touching for something inside his pocket, which lay in front, the overalls being made for a carpenter, with a narrow pocket devised for carrying a folded foot-rule. But I could see nothing suggested in the pocket.

"That's too bad," I said pleasantly. "It looks as though I were going to lose my hundred, doesn't it? Still, the day is long."

I busied myself in watching the deft work of the two as they opened the shells started by the heat, sweeping out the fetid contents, and feeling in one swift motion of a thumb for any hidden secretion of the nacre. Nothing was found while I was watching, and as I did not much like the odor, I drew to one side. I found L'Olonnois and Lafitte standing apart, in full character, arms folded and scowling heavily.

"If yonder villain plays us false," said Lafitte between his clenched teeth, "he shall feel the vengeance of Jean Lafitte! And I wouldn't put it a blame bit a-past him, neither," he added, slightly out of drawing for the time.

"You are well named, Lafitte," I smiled. "You are a good business man. But the day is long."

It was, indeed, long, and I put in part of it wandering about with Partial, hunting for squirrels, which he took much delight in chasing up trees. Again, I lay for a time reading one of my favorite authors, the wise stoic, Epictetus, tarrying over one of my favorite passages:

"Remember that you are an actor of just such a part as is assigned you by the Poet of the play; of a short part, if the part be short, of a long part if the part be long. Should He wish you to act the part of a beggar, ('or of a pirate,' I interpolated, aloud to myself, and smiling) take care to act it naturally and nobly; and the same if it be the part of a lame man, or a ruler, or a private man. For this is in your power—to act well the part assigned to you; but to choose that part is the function of another."

I lay thoughtful, querying. Was I a rich man, or a poor man? Was I a ruler, or a private man, or a lame man?... I asked myself many questions, concluding that all my life I had, like most of us all, been more or less a lame man and a private man after all, and much like my fellow.... It was a great day for me; since each day I seek to learn something. And here now was I, blessed by the printed wisdom of age and philosophy, and yet more blessed by the spoken philosophy of unthinking Youth.... I lay flat, my arms out on the grass, and looked up at the leaves. I felt myself a part of the eternal changeless scheme, and was well content. It has always been impossible for me to care for the little things of life—such as the amassing of money—when I am alone in the woods. I pondered now on the wisdom of my teachers, Epictetus, Jimmy, John and the author of the Book of Genesis.

I arose at last with less of melancholy and more of resolve than I had known for years. The world swam true on its axis all around me; and I, who all my life had been in some way out of balance in the world, now walked with a strange feeling of poise and certainty.... No, I said to myself, I would argue no more with Helena. And meantime since the Poet of the play had assigned me the double role of pirate and boy, I was resolved to act both "naturally and nobly."

I could not have called either of my associates less than natural and noble in his part, viewed as I found them when at length I sought them to partake of a cold luncheon. They stood apart, gloom and stern dignity themselves, offering no speech to the laboring clammers, who, by this time, were but masses of evil odors and ill-temper in equal parts.

"I think he's holdin' out on us!" hissed Jean Lafitte, as I approached. "Time and again I seen the varlet make false moves. Let him have a care! The eye of Jean Lafitte is upon him!"

For my own part, I cared little for anything beyond the sport in my pearl venture, but no man likes to be "done," so I joined the guard over the pearl fishing. I could see little indication of success on the part of the two clammers, who went on in their work steadily, exchanging no more than a monosyllable now and then, but who were animated, it seemed to us, by the same excitement which governs the miner washing gravel in his pan. They scarce could rest, but went on from shell to shell, opening each as eagerly as though it meant a fortune. This of itself seemed to me both natural and yet not wholly natural; for it was now late in the day's work. Why should they go on quite so eagerly in what six hours of stooping in the sun should have made monotonous routine?

They showed me a few pieces they had saved, splinters and slugs of nacre, misshapen and of no luster, and sneered at the net results, worth, at most, not so much as the day's wages I was paying either. I cared nothing for the results, and smiled and nodded as I took them.

Thus the day wore on till mid-afternoon, when, such had been the zeal of the clammers, the heap of bivalves was exhausted. They stood erect, straightening their stiffened backs, and grinned as they looked at me.

"Well," said the old hag, "I reckon ye're satisfied now that we know this business better'n you do. He told ye there wasn't no pearl in this river."

"No;" added her hopeful son, "an' come to think of it, how'd I ever know you had a hundred dollars? I ain't seen it yet. But we've done, so let's see it now."

I quietly opened my pocketbook and took several bills of that yellow-backed denomination, and selected one for him. He took it at first suspiciously, then greedily, and I saw his eyes go to my wallet. "I forgot," said I, and took out two bills of five dollars each, which I handed to him.

"By golly!" said he, "so'd I forgot!"

"Why did you forget about your wages?" I asked, and looked at him keenly. He turned his eyes aside.

"This fresh-water pearl fishing," said I, "has many points of likeness to the ocean pearl fishing in Ceylon."

"You been there?" he queried. "And why is it like them?"

"In several ways. It is, in the first place, all a gamble. The pearl merchants buy the oysters as I bought my mussels, by the lump and as a chance, based on the law of average product. They rot the oysters as you do the mussels. The smell is the same: and many other things are the same. For instance, it is almost impossible to keep the diver from stealing pearls, just as it is hard to keep the Kafirs from stealing the diamonds they find in the mines."

I still was looking at him closely, and now I said to him mildly, and in a low tone of voice, "It would be of no use—I should only beat you again; and I would rather spare your mother. You see," I added in a louder tone of voice, "the natives put pearls in their hair, between their toes, in their mouths—although they do not chew tobacco as you do. One who merely put one in the pocket of his overalls—if he wore overalls—would be called very clumsy, indeed, especially if he had been seen to do it."

Involuntarily, he clapped a hand on his pocket. What would have been his next act I do not know, for at that moment I heard a voice call out sharply, "Halt! villain. Throw up your hands, or by heavens you die!" Turning swiftly, I saw Lafitte, his pistol barrel rested in very serviceable fashion in the crotch of a staff, the same as when he first accosted me on my stream, glancing along the barrel with an ominous gray eye again gone three-cornered.

Before I could even cry out to him his warning was effective. I saw my clam fisher go white and put his hands over his head, the while his dam ran screaming toward the tent—Jimmy L'Olonnois at her heels, sword in hand, and warning her not to get a gun, else her life's blood would dye the strand.

Here, now, was a pretty pickle for a sworn servant of the law to aid in making! A wrong move might mean murder done by these imaginative youths, and I no less than accessory, to boot; for, surely, I had given them aid and violent counsel in this drama which we all were playing so naturally, if not so nobly. I hastened over to Lafitte and called loudly to L'Olonnois, and commanded Partial to drop the renewed encounter with the clammers' dog, which now, also, swiftly threatened us. So, in a moment or two, I restored peace.

I held out my hand to the clammer. "I didn't know you seen me," said he simply; and placed in my hand three pearls, either of them worth more than all I had paid him, and one of them the largest and best I had ever seen—it is the pearl famous as the "Belle Helene," the finest ever taken in fresh waters in America, so it is said by Tiffany's.

I looked at him quietly, and handed him back all but the one pearl. "I am sorry you were not a better sport," said I, "very sorry. Didn't I play fair with you?"

"No," said he. "Some folks have all the luck. You come along here, rich, with all sorts of things, you and them d——d kids, and you'd rob a man like me out of what little he can make."

I was opening my wallet again. "I am sorry to hear you say that," said I, handing him two bills of a hundred dollars each. "Sorry, because it has cost you twenty-eight hundred dollars."

"My God, man, what do you mean?" he gasped, even his fingers slow to take both money and contempt.

"That the pearl is worth to me that much, since I have purpose for it. I have more money than I want, and fewer pearls like this than I want. It would have given me the keenest sort of pleasure to give you and your mother a few thousand dollars, two or three, to set you up with a little launch and an outfit enough to give you a good start—and, perhaps, a good partner. As it is, you are lucky my pirate brother has not blown a hole through you, and that my other brother has not shed the blood of your parent, if she have any. You had a good chance, and like many another man who isn't good enough to deserve success, you lost it. Do you know why you failed?"

"It's the luck," said he. "I never had none."

"No," said I, "it is not that. So far as luck goes, you are lucky you are alive. Little do you know our desperate band. Little do you know you have escaped the wrath of Lafitte, of L'Olonnois, of Black Bart. Luck! No, that is not why you failed."

"What then?" he demanded, still covetous, albeit rueful, too, at what he vaguely knew was lost opportunity.

"It was because you did not play the part of a clammer naturally and nobly," I replied. "My friend, I counsel you to read Epictetus—and while you are at that," I added, "I suggest you read also that other classic, the one known as The Pirate's Own Book."

So saying, since he stood stupefied, and really not seeing my hand, which I reached out to him in farewell, I called to Partial, and followed by the two stern and relentless figures, made our way back to the spot where the good ship Sea Rover lay straining at her hawser.

"What ho! messmates!" I cried. "Fortune has been kind to our bold band this day. We have taken large booty. Let us up anchor and set sail. Before yon sun has sunk into the deep we shall be far away, and our swift craft is able to shake off all pursuit."

"Whither away, Black Bart,—Captain, I mean!" said Jean Lafitte (and I blushed at this title and this hard-won rank, as one of the proudest of my swiftly-following accomplishments in happiness).

"Spang! to the Spanish Main," was my reply.

A moment later, the waves were rippling merrily along the sides of the Sea Rover as she headed out boldly into the high seas.



CHAPTER X

IN WHICH I SHOW MY TRUE COLORS

There were many lesser adventures in which Lafitte, L'Olonnois and I shared on our voyage through the long waterways leading down to the great river, but of these I make small mention, for, in truth, one boasts little of one's deeds in piracy after the fact, or of inciting piracy and making accessories before the fact, the more especially if such accessories be small but bloodthirsty boys. These latter, let me plead in extenuation of my own sins, already were pirates, and set upon rapine. For my own part, seeing their resolution to take green corn and other vegetables, aye, even fowls, as part of the natural returns of their stern calling, I made no remonstrances, not the first leader unable to restrain his ruthless band, but I eased my own conscience by leaving—quite unknown to them,—sundry silver coins in cleft sticks, prominently displayed, in the hope that irate farmers might find them when, after our departure, they visited the scenes of our marauding. And to such an extent did this marauding obtain that, by the time we had reached the Mississippi River, I was almost wholly barren of further silver coins.

Many things I learned as we voyaged; as that my dog Partial would, when asked, roll over and over upon the ground, or sit up and bark—things taught him by no man known in his history, so far as Lafitte could recall it. And things I learned regarding birds and small animals of which my law books had told me nothing. As to mosquitoes, I learned that, whereas they do not hurt a young pirate, they do an old one; and I half resolved to discontinue my book regarding them. Perhaps it was not of first importance.

But two things grew on me in conviction. First, I loved Helena Emory more and more each day of my life; and second, that I must see her at the first moment possible—in spite of all my resolutions to put her out of my life forever! And, these two things being assured, when we saw the rolling yellowish flood of the Father of the Waters at last sweeping before us, I realized that, bound as I was in honor to hold on with my faithful band, our craft, the Sea Rover—sixteen feet long she was, and well equipped with Long Toms and deck cannonades—would have no chance to overtake the Belle Helene, fastest yacht on the Great Lakes, who might, so far as I could tell, at that very moment be cleaving through the Chicago canal, to enter the great river hundreds of miles ahead of us.

Wherefore, leaving my bold mates in bivouac one day, I made journey to the nearest town. There, I sent certain messages to anxious parents, and left for them our probable itinerary as tourists traveling by private conveyance. I could not set our future dates and ports more closely together; for, before I left town, I had purchased a sturdy power boat of our own, capable of doing her ten or twelve miles under her own petrol. I was in no mind to fall farther and farther back of the Belle Helene each day; and I counted upon our piratical energy to keep us going more hours a day than Cal Davidson—curses on him!—would be apt to travel.

I gave orders for immediate fitting of my new craft, and delivery on the spot; and within the hour, although regarded with much suspicion by the town marshal and many leading citizens, I set out for our bivouac, with the aid of the late owner of the boat, to whom I gave assurance that no evil should befall him. When we chugged along the shore, and slackened opposite our camp, I heard the stern voice of Lafitte hail us: "Ship ahoy!" (Perhaps he saw me at the stern sheets.)

"Aye! Aye! mate!" I answered, through my cupped hands. "Bear a hand with our landing line." Whereat my hardy band came running and made us fast.

"What has gone wrong, Black Bart?" demanded L'Olonnois, uncertain of my status. "Hast met mishap and struck colors?"

"By no means!" I rejoined. "This is a prize, our first capture. And since she has struck her colors, let us mount our own at her foremast and ship our band to a bigger and faster craft."

The late owner, who bore the name of Robinson, looked on much perplexed, and, I think, in some apprehension, for he must have thought us dangerous, whether sane or mad.

"Who'll run her?" he at length demanded of me, looking from me to my two associates. Then forth and stood Jean Lafitte; and answered a question I confess I had not yet myself asked: "Ho! I guess a fellow who can run a gasoline pump in a creamery can handle one of them things. So think not, fellow, to escape us!"

I reassured Robinson, who was apparently ready to make a run for it; and I explained to Lafitte and L'Olonnois my plan.

"We'll by no means discard our brig, the original Sea Rover," said I, "and we'll tow her along as our tender. But we'll christen the prize the Sea Rover instead, and hoist our flag over her—and paint on her name at the first point of call we make. Now, let us hasten, for two thousand miles of sea lie before us, and Robinson is also five miles from home."

But Robinson became more and more alarmed each moment. He had my money, I his bill of sale, but ride back to town with us he would not. Instead, he washed his hands of us and started back afoot—to get the town marshal, I was well convinced. It mattered little to us; for once more did sturdy Jean Lafitte more than make good his boast. With one look at the gasoline tank to assure himself that all was well, he made fast the painter of the old Sea Rover, and even as L'Olonnois with grim determination planted the Jolly Rover above our bows, and as I tossed aboard the cargo of our former craft, Lafitte cranked her up with master hand, threw in the gear, and with a steady eye headed her for midstream, where town marshals may not come.

I looked at my mates in admiration. They could do things I could not do, and they faced the future with no trace of hesitation. I caught from them a part of this resolution I so long had lacked. I added this to my determination to see Helena Emory once more and soon as wind and wave would allow. So that, believe me, the blood rose quickly in my veins as I saw now we had faster travel ahead of us.

"Square away the main braces, my hearties!" I called. "Break out the spinnaker and set the jibs. It's a wet sheet and a flowing sea, and let any stop us at their peril!"

"Aye! Aye! Sir," came the response of Jean Lafitte in a voice almost bass, and "Aye! Aye! Sir," piped the blue-eyed Lieutenant L'Olonnois. The stanch craft leaped ahead, wallowing in cross seas till we reached the mid-current of the Mississippi's heavy flood, then riding and rising gamely as she met wave after wave that came up-stream with the head wind. The eyes of Lafitte gleamed. L'Olonnois, hand over eyes, stood in our bows. "Four bells, and all's well!" he intoned in a vigorous voice.

It was my own heart made answer, in the sweetest challenge it ever had given to the world: "All's well!" And far ahead I, too, peered across the wave, seeking to make out the hull of fleeing craft that bore treasure I was resolved should yet be mine.

"More sail, Officer!" I called to Jean Lafitte. He grinned in answer.

"You're in a hurry, Black Bart. What makes you?" And even L'Olonnois turned a searching gaze upon me.

"Then I'll show you my true colors," said I. "I am more careless of taking treasure than of capturing a certain maiden who flees before us yonder on a swift craft, speedier than our own. Lay me alongside of her, this week, next month, this winter, and my share of the other booty shall be yours!"

"Black Bart," said Lafitte, "I knew something was sort of botherin' you. So, it's you for the fair captive, huh?"



CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH MY PLOT THICKENS

We sped on now steadily, day by delightful day, and ever arose in my soul new wonders at the joy of life itself, things that had escaped me in my plodding business life. Now and again, I took from my pocket the little volume which always went with me on the stream when I angled, and which I confess sometimes charmed me away from the stream to some shaded nook where I might read old Omar undisturbed—as now I might, with L'Olonnois at the masthead and Lafitte at the wheel. And always these wise, reckless, joyous pages of the old philosopher spelled to me "Haste! Haste!"

"Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop. The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one."

"Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing!"

What truth, what absolute truth of the red-hot spur lay in those words, lesson direst to me! What had my life been, plodding in books to learn to keep by forms of law the booty my father had stolen? Away with it, then, for now the Bird of Time was on the wing! Let me forget the wasted years, spent in adding dollar to dollar; for what could the highest pile of dollars mean to a man who had missed what Lafitte and L'Olonnois and Omar had in their teaching? The booty of the world, the pearls of price, the casks of the Wine of Life, are his only who takes them. They can not be bought, can not be given. "Oh, haste! Jean Lafitte, for my new knowledge indeed eats at my soul. Hasten, for the Bird of Life is on the wing, L'Olonnois." So I spoke to them; and they, feeling it all a part of the play, gravely answered in kind, to what end that any who sought to stay Black Bart and his crew did so at peril of their blood.

We came, I knew not after how many days forgotten in detail—after passing, each avoided as a pestilence, many cities prosperous in commerce—alongside the river port of the city of St. Louis, crowded with motley and misfit shipping of one sort or other, where our craft might moor without fear of exciting any suspicion, in spite of our ominous name; for I had the precaution to lower our flag of the skull and cross-bones.

I sought out the man most apt to know of any considerable vessels docking there, and made inquiry for any power yacht one hundred and twenty-five feet long, white and black ventilators, white hull with blue line, flying the burgee Belle Helene, or some such name. None could advise me for a time, and I looked in vain, as I had in every dock in six hundred miles, for the trim hull of my yacht. At last one old mariner, in rubber boots, himself skipper of a house-boat south-bound for a winter's trapping, admitted that he had seen such a craft three days before!

"Did she dock?" I demanded.

"Sure she did, and lay over night. I remember it well enough, for I saw her tie up; and that evening her owner went ashore and up-town, and with him his bride, I reckon—handsomest girl in all the town. They must have been married, for he was lookin' like he owned her. That was lemme see, two days ago or maybe four. They came aboard her next morning, all three—there was a old party along, girl's mother likely—around eleven o'clock, and in a little while cast off and went on down-river. As fine a boat as ever made the river run—still as a mouse she was, but quick as a cat, and around Ste. Genevieve, I reckon, before I got back to my own scow after helping them off here. No wonder her owner was proud. He stood on the quarter-deck like a lord. Why shouldn't he, ownin' a boat an' a girl like that?"

"He doesn't own either!" I retorted hotly.

"Why, how do you know he don't?" demanded my sea-going man.

"Who should know, if not myself?"

"Sho! You talk like you owned her!"

"I do own her!"

"It looks like it. Which do you mean—her the yacht, or her the girl?"

"Both—no! That is, well at least I own the boat."

"That may all be, or it all mayn't," he replied, openly scoffing; "at least so far's the boat goes. Anybody kin buy anything that has the price. But as to the girl, you'd have to prove it, if I was him. And if he didn't look like he owned her, or was goin' to, I'll eat your own gas tank there, an' them two kids in it fer good measure."

Of course I could not argue or explain, and therefore turned away. But all the answer of my soul came from the lips of L'Olonnois, who, propped up against the cockpit combing, was reading aloud to Lafitte from The Pirate's Own Book as I approached. "Hah! my good man!" exclaimed the pirate chieftain as he looked at his blade, "unhand the maid, or by Heaven! your life's blood shall dye the deck where you stand!"

"Ah, ha! Cal Davidson," said I to myself through my set teeth; "little do you think that you are discovered in your sins, and little do you know that the avenger is on your track. But have a care, for Black Bart and his band pursues you!"

And, seeing that we had now laid in abundance of ship's stores, including four drums of gasoline; and since the trail of Cal Davidson was, at least, no wider than the banks of the river down which he had fled, it looked ill enough for the chances of that robber when the stanch Sea Rover, her flag again aloft and promising no quarter, chugged out into midstream and took up a pursuit which was to know no faltering until at last I had learned the truth about the fair captive of the Belle Helene. For indeed, indeed, Omar, and you, too, stout Lafitte and hardy L'Olonnois, the Bird of Life was on the wing.



CHAPTER XII

IN WHICH WE CLOSE WITH THE ENEMY

Cal Davidson took on five drums of petrol at Cairo, and a like amount of champagne at Memphis, and no man may tell what other supplies at this or that other point along the river. He evidently suspected no pursuit, or, if he did, was a swaggering varlet enough, for, according to all accounts which we could get, he loitered and lingered along, altogether at his leisure, with due attention to social matters at every port; for if he had not a wife at every port, at least, he had an acquaintance of business or social sort, so that, one might be sure, there were few dull moments for him and his party, whether afloat or ashore. He must have attended a dinner-party and two theaters at Memphis, and have sailed only after making three thousand dollars out of a combination in champagne present and cotton future, whose disgusting details I did not seek to learn. Trust Davidson to make money, and to make the most of life also as he went along. He always had the best of everything; and surely now he had, for the leisurely, ease-seeking Belle Helene, not actuated by any vast motive beyond that of the bee and the honey flower, slipped on down and ahead with perfect ease, while we, grimy, slow, determined, plowed on in her wake losing miles each hour the graceful Belle Helene chose to show us her light disdainful heels, serenely indifferent because wholly ignorant of our existence.

But we held to the chase as true pirates, not loitering at any port, and—since now I, also, had learned something of the intricacies of our engine, and could take a trick while the others slept—running twice the hours daily the haughty yacht would deign to log. I knew that Cal Davidson would stop to shoot and to visit, and knew that he could, by no human means, be induced to pass any telegraph point where the daily standing of the baseball clubs could be learned—he counted that day lost in which he did not learn the scores. As for myself, I have never been able to understand how any grown man or any one ungrown can take any interest whatever in the deeds of hired ball-playing Hessians, who have back of them neither patriotism nor even a municipal pride. But, for once, I was joyed that the organized business sense of a few men had put an otherwise able citizen under tribute, because now, though the Belle Helene must pause at least daily, the Sea Rover need do no such thing.

Nor did we. We were hot on the trail of the enemy as he flew south along the Chickasha Bluffs, hot as he left Memphis behind, and taking the widening waters which now wandered through low forest lands, reached out for the next city of size, historic Vicksburg on her seventy hills. And hot and eager, more than ever, were we when, chugging around the head of that vast arm of the river, where it curves like a boy of some southern sea, with its heights rising beyond and afar, we saw what caused me to exclaim aloud, "At last! There she lies, my hearties!"

I pointed on ahead. To my eyes, who had designed her, every line of that long, graceful, white hull was familiar. The jaunty rake of her air-shafts, like stacks of a liner, the sweep of her clean freeboard up to her shining rail, the ease of her bows, the graceful boldness of her overhang—all were familiar enough to me. She was my boat, and once I was wont to enjoy her. And on board her now was the woman who had taken away from me all desire to keep a yacht in commission, to keep open a house in town, or an office, or to frequent my clubs, or to meet my friends. Was she there, this woman; and was she still?—but I dared not ask that question.

"Full speed ahead, Jean!" I called. "That's the Belle Helene! Yonder lies the enemy!"

And then the inevitable happened. Perhaps it was too much gas, perhaps too much lubricant, perhaps a spark plug was carrying too much carbon. At any rate, the engine of the Sea Rover chose that time to chug and cease to revolve!

It was more than a mile to the foot of that vast curve; and even as I leaped at the grimy oily motor, I saw a white dingey with blue trim make out from the wharf and leisurely pull alongside the landing stair of the yacht. It held two figures only, that of the deck-hand who rowed, and that of the large white-flanneled man who now disembarked from the dingey and went aboard the yacht. He was waving a paper over his head, so that I inferred the Giants must have won that day. And then, as we tugged and hurried with our arbitrary motor, I saw the Belle Helene, with a slight smiling salute to friends ashore, swing daintily about and head out and down the river! The faint and infallible rhythm of her perfect enginery came throbbing to us across the water ... I stood up. I hailed, I waved, I shouted, and I fear even cursed. Perhaps they thought some drunken fisherman was disporting himself; but certainly, a few moments later, we were rocking on the roll of the river, and the yacht was out of sight and sound around the next great bend.

"It shall go hard but we overhaul yon varlet yet," said L'Olonnois grimly.

"Aye," assented Lafitte; "we've busted a plug, an' he has showed us a clean pair of heels, but it's a long chase if the Sea Rover does not overhaul him. We'll have to overhaul our engine first, though," he added thoughtfully.

But the overhauling of our engine meant a voyage under sweeps to a precarious landing among divers packets, house-boats and launches, on Vicksburg waterside, and a later visit to a specialist in diseases of the carburetor; so that, when at last the Sea Rover was ready for the sea again, her chase might have been a hundred miles ahead an she liked.

"Gee!" exclaimed Jean Lafitte, as we were about to cast off. "Looky here, de Cubs licked de G'ints five to one to-day." He pointed to figures in a newspaper which he had obtained. So then it might have been excitement of rage, and not of joy, which had animated Cal Davidson when he went aboard.

"Never mind then," said I, "for that gives us a day's start."

"How do you mean?" demanded Jean.

"It means that yonder varlet will not leave Natchez to-morrow until late evening, after the wires are in from the northern ball games," I replied. "Of course he'll stop there next." I felt now that the Lord had, by implanting this insane lust of petty baseball news in his soul, delivered my enemy into my hand.

Now I wist not how or at what dignified speed the Belle Helene swept on down that mighty river through the rich southern lands; nor do I scarce half remember the painstaking persistent run we made with the grimy Sea Rover in pursuit, hour after hour, night or day. We had no licensed pilot or licensed engineer, we bore no lights as prescribed by law, and heeded no channels as prescribed by government engineers. Pirates, indeed, we might have been as we plowed on down in the wake of our quarry, along the ancient highway famous in fast packet days. We cared nothing for law, order, custom, conventions, precedents—the very things which had enslaved me all my life I now cast aside. Through bend after bend, along willow-lined flats and bluffs crowned with stately, moss-draped live-oaks, we swept on and on; and always I strained my eyes to see, my ears to hear, on ahead some sign of the Belle Helene; always strained my heart for some sign from her. Why, even I looked in the water for some bottle bearing a memory from yon captive maid to me. Captive? Why, certainly she must be captive; and certainly she must know that I, Black Bart the Avenger, was upon the trail.

We made the pleasant city of Natchez in the evening of the sweetest day on which, as I thought, the sun had ever set. Her lofty hills—for here the great eastern fence of hills which bound the Vermont Delta on the eastward sweep in to close the foot of the Delta's V, and run sheer to the river's brink—rose upon our left. The low tree-covered lands on the Louisiana side lay at our right, and over them hung, center of a most radiant evening curtain, painted in a thousand colors by the mighty brush of nature, the round red orb of day, now sinking to his rest.

I did not begrudge the sun his rest that day. For now, just at the edge of this beautiful picture there hung, at the dry point where the old keel boats used to land at old Natchez, under the hill where the pirates of those days sought relaxation from labors in the joys of combat or of wine, I caught sight of the long, low, graceful hull of the Belle Helene!

"Avast! Jean Lafitte," I cried. "Shorten all sail, and bear across, west-by-west."

"Aye! Aye! Sir," came the response from my bold crew.

"Why don't we run in and board her?" demanded L'Olonnois. However, seeing that I had laid hold of the steering line where I sat, and was heading the Sea Rover across the Louisiana side, away from the city's water-front, he subsided.

"We'll cast anchor yonder where the holding ground is good," I explained. "To-night we'll send off the long boat with a boarding party. And marry!" I added, "it shall go hard, but we'll hold yon varlet to his accounting!"



CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH WE BOARD THE ENEMY

Slowly the vast painting of the sky softened and faded until, at length, its edges blended with the shadows of the forest. There came into relief against the sky-line the etched outlines of the trees crowning the bluff on the eastern side of the great river. The oncoming darkness promised safety for a craft unimportant as ours as we now lay in the shadows of the western shore. Meantime, as well as the failing light allowed, we let nothing on board the Belle Helene go unobserved.

The yacht lay—with an audacity of carelessness which I did not like to note—hardly inside the edge of the regular shipping channel, but swung securely and gracefully at her cable, held by an anchor which I had devised myself, heavy enough for twice her tonnage. On the deck I could see an occasional figure, but though I plied my binoculars carefully, not the figure which I sought. A man leaned against the rail, idly, smoking, but this I made out to be the engineer, Williams, come up to get the evening air. Billy, the deck-hand, John, my Chinese cook, and Peterson, the boat-master, were at the time out of sight, as well as Cal Davidson, who had her under charter.

We lay thus, separated by some distance of the river's flood, each craft at anchor, only one observed by the other. But to my impatient gaze matters seemed strangely slow on board the Belle Helene. I was relieved when at last the rather portly but well groomed figure of my friend Davidson appeared on deck. He made his way aft along the rail, and I could see him bend over and call down the companionway of the after staterooms. Then, an instant later, he was joined on the after deck by two ladies. The sight of one of these caused my heart to bound.

They stood for a moment, no more than dimly outlined, but I could see them well enough. The older lady, with the scarf about her head, was Aunt Lucinda. The slighter figure in white and wearing no head covering, was she, Helena Emory! It was Helena! It was Helena!

She turned toward Davidson. I could hear across the water the sound of laughter. A sudden feeling of anger came into my soul. I shifted my position in the Sea Rover, and stepped on Partial's tail, causing him to give a sharp bark and to come and lick my hand in swift repentance. I feared for the time that his sound might attract attention to our boat, which, if examined closely, might seem a trifle suspicious. True pirates, and oblivious of all law, we had not yet hoisted our riding lights, though for all I know our black flag still was flying.

The three figures passed forward along the deck slowly and disappeared down the front companion-stair which led to the cozy dining-room. I could see them all sitting there, about my own table, using the very silver and linen which I had had made for the Belle Helene, attended by John, my Chinese cook and factotum, whom I had especially imported, selected from among a thousand other Chinese by myself at Hankow. I knew that Davidson would have champagne and a dozen other wines in abundance, everything the market offered. A pleasant party, this of three, which was seating itself at my table over yonder, while I, in a grimy, dingy, little tub lay looking at them, helpless in the gloom! Ah, villain, shrewd enough you were when you planned this trip for Aunt Lucinda's health! Well enough you knew that of all places in the world none equals a well equipped private yacht for the courting of a maid. Why, if it be propinquity that does it, what chance had any man on earth against this man, enjoying the privilege of propinquity of propinquities, and adding thereto the weapons of every courtesy, every little pleasure a man may show a maid? Trust Cal Davidson for all that! I well-nigh gnashed my teeth in anger.

I scarce know how the time passed, until at last I saw them, in the illumination of the deck lights, at length come on deck again. They stood looking out over the river, or toward the lights of Natchez-under-the-Hill, and at length idly walked aft once more. The two ladies seated themselves on deck chairs under the awning of the rear deck. I could not see them now, but heard the tinkle and throb of a guitar come across the water, touched lightly with long pauses, as under some suspended melody not yet offered in fulness. Now and again I could hear a word or so, the rather deep voice of Aunt Lucinda, the bass tones of Davidson, but strain my ears as I might, I could not hear the sound of that other voice, low and sweet, an excellent thing in woman.

At length the little party seemed to be breaking up. I saw Davidson, half in shadow, outlined by the deck lights as he rose, and passed forward. Then I heard the falls run, and a soft splash as the dingey was launched overside. Cal Davidson was going ashore. He could no longer resist his anxiety over the baseball score! A moment later I heard the dip of the oars. Some one turned on the search-light, so that a wide shaft of light swung along the foot of Natchez Hill, toward which the dingey was headed. The shadows on the deck of the Belle Helene seemed darker now, by contrast, but I believed that Williams, the engineer, now had left the rail on which he was leaning over his folded arms.

I turned now to my wondering companions, who, seeing me so much interested, had remained for a long time practically silent. Fall now, curtain of romance, for we be but three pirates here! Up anchor, then, and back across the stream toward our quarry quickly, my bold mates, for now there lies at hand a dangerous work of the boarding party!

Thus I might have spoken aloud; for, at least, I hardly needed to do more than motion to Jean Lafitte, and as we resumed our softly chugging progress, having broken out our shallow anchorage, he steered the boat to the motion of my hand. We passed close alongside the Belle Helene and I examined her keenly as we did so. Then, apparently unnoticed, we dropped down-stream a bit, and found another anchorage.

"Clear away the long boat for the boarding party," I now whispered hoarsely. I spoke to companions now in full character. Belted and armed, Lafitte and L'Olonnois rose ready for any bold emprise, each with red kerchief pulled about his brow. And now, to my interest, I observed that each had resumed the black mask which they had worn earlier in our long voyage, sign of the desperate character of each wearer.

"Whither away, Black Bart?" demanded L'Olonnois fiercely. "Lead, and we follow."

"You had better put on a mask, Black Bart," added Jean Lafitte, and handed me a spare one of his own manufacture. I hesitated, but then, seeing that part of my success lay in our all remaining somewhat piratical of character, I hastily slipped it above my eyes, and pulled down my hat brim. "She will not know me now," said I to myself. And truly enough we seemed desperate folk, fierce as any who ever lay in keel boat off the foot of Natchez bluff, even in the bloodiest times of Mike Fink the Keel-boatman or of Murrell the southern bandit king.

Partial, without invitation, climbed into the skiff with us. "Cast off," I ordered. "Oars!" And my young men—whom by this time I had trained in many ways nautical—obeyed in good seaman fashion. A moment later we lay almost under the rail of the Belle Helene. No one hailed us. We seemed taken only for some passing skiff.

"Listen!" I whispered, "there is risk in what we are going to do."

I looked at my blue-eyed pirate, L'Olonnois, who sat closer to me. On his face was simple and complete happiness. At last, his adventure had come to him and he was meeting it like a man.

"What is it, Black Bart?" I heard Jean Lafitte whisper hoarsely.

"We are to board and take yonder ship," I replied softly. "If we are to succeed, you must do precisely as I tell you. Leave the main risk to me, that of the law. I'll take possession on the ground that she is my boat, that her charter money is not paid, and that yonder varlet is making away with her out of the country. She holds much treasure, let me assure you of that, my men—the greatest treasure that ever came down this river.

"Now, listen. You, Lafitte, as soon as we get aboard, are to run and close the hatch of the engine-room. That will pen Williams, the engineer, below, where he can make no resistance. As soon as that is done, run to those doors forward which lead down to the dining-room companionway and shut those doors and latch them. That will take care of John, the cook. The deck-hand is away with the varlet. That leaves only the shipmaster and the women captives.

"While you are busy in this way, Lafitte, I will hunt for Peterson, the master, who very likely is sitting quiet on the forward deck somewhere. The main danger lies with him. While I attend to him, you, L'Olonnois, run aft. You will find there two ladies, one very old and ugly, the other very young and very beautiful. See that they do not escape, and hold them there until I come aft to meet you.

"All this must go through as we have planned. Once the maiden is in our power, and the ship our own, we will head down-stream for the open sea. Are you with me, my bold mates?"

"Lead on, Black Bart!" I heard L'Olonnois hiss; and I saw Jean Lafitte tighten his belt.

"All ready, then," said I. "I'll go forward and make fast the painter when we reach the landing stair. Follow me quickly. Leave Partial in the boat. Gently now."

Swiftly but silently, we swept in under the lee of the Belle Helene. The landing ladder had not been drawn up after Davidson's departure, so that the boarding party had easy work ahead.

I sprang upon the deck, my footfalls deadened by the rubber matting which lay along all the decks. I turned. Above the rail behind me rose the face of Lafitte, masked. The long blade of a Malay kris was in his teeth. In one hand he held a pistol, using the other as he climbed. He scraped out of his belt as he came aboard I know not how many pistols which fell into the water, but still, God wot! had abundant remaining. Nor did L'Olonnois, close behind him, his Samurai sword between his teeth, present a spectacle less awesome. I breathed a sudden prayer that these might meet with no resistance, else I could only fear the direst consequences!

I made a quick motion with my hand, even as I sprang forward in search of Peterson. The dull thud of the engine-room hatch, an instant later, assured me that Lafitte had performed the most important part of the work assigned to him. Forsooth, ere long, he had done all his work as laid out for him. It chanced that, as he sprang to the doors of the forward saloon, he met John, the Chinaman. Reaching for him with one hand, he closed the doors with the other, with such promptness and precision that the cue of John was caught in the door and he was imprisoned below, where he howled in much grief and perturbation, unable to escape without the sacrifice of his cue.

Meantime, I found Peterson, my old skipper, much as I had expected. He was a middle-aged, placid, well-poised man, a pessimist in speech, but a bold man in soul. He was fond of an evening pipe, and he sat now smoking and looking down the illuminated lane made by our search-light. He turned toward me, a sudden curiosity upon his face as he saw that I was a stranger on the boat, though not a stranger to himself.

"Sir—Mr. Harry—" he began, half rising.

I reached out my left hand and caught him by the shoulder. In my right hand I held a pistol, and this, somewhat gaily, I waved before Peterson's face. "Halt," said I, "or I will blow you out of the water"—a phrase which I had found sufficient in earlier circumstances.

The old man smiled pleasantly and in mock fashion put up both his hands. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have knocked me down. "All right, Mr. Harry," said he, "you will have your joke. But tell me, what's up? We weren't expecting you here. Mr. Davidson's gone ashore."

"Just a lark, Peterson," said I. I had slipped down the mask so that he could see me plainly. "By George, sir!" said he, "I am glad to see you, back on the old boat again. Where have you been?"

"Just come on board, Peterson," said I. "I am going to run her now myself.

"Money not paid over, Peterson," said I. It stretched my conscience a bit, although the truth was I had Davidson's uncashed check in my pocket at the time.

"We've all had our pay regular," he rejoined. "Why, what's wrong?"

"But I haven't had mine, Peterson," said I. "When the charter money isn't paid and an owner has reason to suppose that his boat is going to be run out of the country, he has to act promptly, you understand. So I have taken my own way. The Belle Helene is in my charge now, and you will report to me for orders."

"What's that squalling?" demanded Peterson, who was a trifle hard of hearing.

"Something seems wrong with John, the cook," I answered. "I only hope he has not made any resistance to my men, who, I promise you, are the most desperate lot that ever cut a throat. For instance, they have locked Williams down in the engine-room. Go over there, Peterson, and quiet him. But tell him that, if he shows a head above the hatch, he is apt to have his brains blown out. Keep quiet now, all of you, until I get this thing in hand."

"But the boat's under charter to Mr. Davidson," demurred Peterson.

"Charter or no charter, Peterson," said I, "I'm in command here, and it's no time to argue."

At this time we heard cries of a feminine sort from the after deck, so I knew that L'Olonnois, as well, had performed the duty assigned to him.

"Stay here, Peterson," said I. "It's all right, and I'll take care of you in every regard. Wait a moment."



I hurried aft. L'Olonnois stood in the shadow, his back against the saloon door, facing his two prisoners. I also faced them now. The deck lights gave ample illumination, so that I could see her—Helena—face to face and fairly. She turned to me; but now I had pulled up my mask again, and she could have no more than a suspicion as to my identity.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What right have you here?"

For half a moment I paused. Then I felt a sense of relief as I heard at my elbow the piping voice of L'Olonnois in reply.

"Lady," said he, standing with folded arms, his bared blade gripped in his good right hand and showing at a short up-cast angle, "it ill beseems a gentleman to give pain to one so fair, but prithee have a care, for, by heavens! resistance is useless here."



CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH IS ABOUNDING TROUBLE

I looked at Helena Emory, glad that she did not at first sight recognize the intruder who had elicited her wrath,—for she seemed almost more angry than perturbed, such being her nature. I thought she had never been half so beautiful as now, never more alive, more vibrantly and dynamically feminine than now. She had not even a scarf about her head, so that all its Greek clarity of line, all its tight-curling dark hair—almost breaking into four ringlets, two at each white temple—were distinct to me as I looked at her, even in the half light. Her face, with its wondrous dark eyes, was full toward me, meeting this danger for such as it might be; so that, again, I saw the sweet full oval of her brow and cheek and chin, with just these two dark incipient curls above. I could not see the twin dark tendrils at the white nape of her neck, but I knew they were there, as beautiful as ever. Her mouth was always the sweetest God ever gave any woman—and I repeat, I have seen and studied all the great portraits, and found none so wholly good as that of Helena, done by Sargent in his happiest vein. Now the red bow of her lips parted, as she stood, one slender hand across her bosom, panting, but not in the least afraid, or, at least, meeting her fear boldly, as one high-born should.

She was all in white, with not the slightest jewel or ornament of any kind. I saw that even the buckle at her waist was covered in white. Her boots and her hair were dark; for Helena knew the real art of dressing. She stood fairly between me and the deck light, so that all her white figure was frank in its gentle curves; erect now, and bravely drawn to all her five feet five, so that she might meet my gaze—albeit through a mask—as fully as a lady should when she has met affront.

I always loved Helena, always, from the first time I met her. I had bidden adieu to life when, after many efforts to have her see me as I saw her, I turned away to the long hard endeavor to forget her. But now I saw my attempts had all been in vain. If absence had made my heart more fond, the presence of her made it more poignantly, more imperiously, fonder than before. My whole body, my whole soul, unified, arose. I stretched out my arms, craving, demanding. "Helena!" I cried.

My voice was hoarse. Perhaps she did not know me, even yet. Her answer was a long clear call for help.

"Ahoy!" she sang. "On shore, there—Help!"

Her call was a signal for present trouble. Partial, my dog, abandoned in the long boat, began barking furiously. There came an answering hail which assured me that yon varlet, Davidson, had heard. I was conscious of the sound of a scuffle somewhere forward. Below, at my side, Aunt Lucinda gave voice to a long shrill wail of terror. John, my Chinaman, his cue still held fast in the jammed edges of the door, chimed in dismally. Midships I heard a muffled knocking at Williams', the engineer's, hatch.

I forgot I was standing masked, with a naked weapon in my hand. I dropped my mask, dropped my weapon, and turned quickly toward Helena.

"Be silent!" I commanded her.

She stood for one instant, her hands at her cheeks. Then, "Ahoy!" rang out her voice once more in sheer disobedience, and "You!" she said to me, furious.

"Yes, I," was my answer, and my own fury was now as cold as hers. "Go below," I ordered her. "I am in command of this boat. Quick!"

I had never spoken thus to her in all my life, but almost to my surprise she changed now. As though half in doubt, she turned toward the stair leading down to the ladies' cabin where Aunt Lucinda was shrieking in terror.

"Guard the door," I called to L'Olonnois as I turned away. I heard it slam shut and the click of the lock told me my prisoners were safe, so I hastened forward.

"Good Lord, Mr. Harry!" cried my skipper, Peterson, when he saw me. "Come here, take this little devil—away—I'm afraid he'll knife me."

I hurried to him for he struggled in the dark with Jean Lafitte.

"To the rescue, Black Bart!" called Jean Lafitte. "Catch his other arm. I've got this one, and if he moves, by Heaven I'll run him through."

"Run me through, you varmint—what do you mean?" roared Peterson. "Ain't it enough you pull a gun on me and try to poke out my eye, and twist off my arm, without sticking me with that bread-slicer you got? Mr. Harry—for Heaven's sake——"

"There now, Jean Lafitte," I said, "enough. He has begged for quarter."

"No, I ha'int," asserted Peterson venomously. "I'll spank the life outen him if I ever get the chance—" I raised a hand.

"Enough of all this noise," I said. "I am in charge now, Peterson. Go to the wheel. Break out the anchor and get under way. At once, man! I have no time to argue."

Peterson had never in his life heard me speak in this way before, but now, for what reason I do not know—perhaps from force of habit, perhaps because he knew I was owner of the boat, perhaps in awe of the naked kris of Jean Lafitte, still presented menacingly at his abdomen—the old skipper obeyed.

I heard the faint jangle of bells in the engine-room below. Obviously, Williams, the engineer, was responsive to his sense of duty and routine. The power came pulsing through the veins of the Belle Helene and I heard her screws revolve. I, myself, threw in the donkey winch as she forged ahead, and so broke out the anchor. It still swung, clogging her bows as she turned in the current. The bells again jangled as she got more speed and as the anchor came home. Our search-light swept a wide arc along the foot of Natchez Hill, as our bows circled about and headed down the great river. And now we picked in full view, hardly sixty fathoms distant, the dingey, pulled furiously toward us. My friend, the varlet Cal Davidson, half stood in the stern of the stubby craft and waved at us an excited hand.

"Ahoy there, Peterson!" he cried. "Stop! Hold on there! Wait! Where are you going there!"

Peterson turned toward me an inquiring gaze, but I only pointed a hand down-stream, and he obeyed me! I reached my hand to the cord and gave Peterson, Davidson, Natchez and all the world, the salute of a long and vibrant whistle of defiance. It came back to us in echoes from the giant bluffs, swept across the lowlands on the opposite side.

"Full speed ahead, Peterson," said I quietly.

"Where are we going, Mr. Harry?" he demanded anxiously.

"I don't know," said I. "It all depends—maybe around the world. I don't know and I don't care."

"I'm scared about this—it don't look right. What's come into you, Mr. Harry?" asked the old man solicitously.

"Nothing, Peterson," said I, "except that the bird of time is on the wing. I am a pirate, Peterson——"

"I never knew you so far gone in drink before, Mr. Harry," said he, as he threw over the wheel to pick up the first starboard channel light.

"Yes, I have been drinking, Peterson," said I. "I have been drinking the wine of life. It oozes drop by drop, and is all, too soon, gone if we delay. Full speed ahead, Peterson. I am in command."

"Jean!" I called to my able lieutenant. "Reach over into the long boat and bring Partial on board. He is my friend. And bring also our flag. Run it aloft above our prize."

"Aye, aye, Sir," came the reply of Jean Lafitte. And a few moments later our long boat was riding astern more easily. Jean Lafitte on his return busied himself with our burgee. And at that moment, Partial, overjoyed at also having a hand in these affairs, barked joyously at his discovery of the neglected end of the cook's cue projecting through the hinges of the door. On this he laid hold cheerfully, worrying it until poor John shrieked anew in terror; and until I freed him; and ordered tea.

I next went over to the hatches of the engine-room, and having opened them, bent over to speak to Williams, the engineer.

"It's all right, Williams," said I. "I am going to take her over now and run her perhaps to the Gulf. We hadn't time to tell you at first. There has been a legal difficulty. Peterson is on deck, of course."

"All right, Mr. Harry," said Williams, who recognized me as he leaned out from his levers to look up through the open hatch. "At first I didn't know what in hell was up. It sounded like a mutiny——"

"It was a mutiny, Williams," said I, "and I am the head mutineer. But you're sure of your pay, so let her go."

He did let her go, smoothly and brilliantly, so that before long she was at her top speed, around fifteen knots an hour. I was familiar with every detail of the Belle Helene, and now I looked in both the generating plant and the storage batteries, so that four thousand candle-power of electric light blazed over her from bow to fantail. The steady purr of the Belle Helene's double sixties—engines I had had made under my own care—came to me with a soothing rhythm where I stood near by the wheel. Her search-light made a vast illumination far ahead. Brilliant enough must have seemed the passing spectacle of our stanch little ship to any observer, as we now swept on down the tawny flood of the great river. Who would deny me the feeling of exultation which came to me? Was I not captor and captain of my own ship?

I turned to meet L'Olonnois, my blue-eyed pirate. He stood at my side as one glorified. The full swing of romance had him, the full illusion of this,—imagination's most ardent desire—now gripped him fully. He was no boy, but a human being possessed of all his dreams. His second self, once oppressed, now free, stood before me wholly satisfied. I needed not to ask whether he had been faithful to his trust.

"I locked the door on 'em, Black Bart," said he, "and bade them cease a idle remonstrancing. 'Little do you know,' say I to them, 'that Black Bart the Avenger is now on the trail. Let any oppose him at their peril,' says I to them. She give me candy, the fair captive did, but I spurned her bribe. 'Beware,' says I to her. 'Little do you know what lies before you.'"



CHAPTER XV

IN WHICH IS CONVERSATION WITH THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN

Jean Lafitte, who had so well executed the work assigned him in the boarding party's plans, proved himself neither inefficient nor unobservant. He approached me now, with a salute, which probably he copied from Peterson.

"How now, good leftenant?" said I.

"If you please, Black Bart," he began, "how are we headed, and what are our plans?"

"Our course on this river, Jean Lafitte, will box the compass, indeed box an entire box of compasses, for no river is more winding. Yet in time we shall reach its end, no doubt, since others have."

"And what about our good ship, the Sea Rover, that we have left behind?"

"By Jove! Jean Lafitte," I exclaimed, "that is, indeed, a true word. What, indeed? We left her riding at anchor just off the channel edge, and so far as I recall, she had not her lights up, in accordance with the law."

"Shall we put about and take her in tow, Black Bart?"

"By no means. That is the very last of my intentions."

"What'll become of her, then?"

"That is no concern of mine."

"But nobody'll know whose she is, and nobody can tell what may happen to her——"

"Quite true. She may be stolen, or sunk. Why not?"

"But she cost a lot of money."

"On the contrary, she cost only twelve hundred dollars."

"Twelve hundred dollars!" Jean drew a long deep breath. "I didn't know anybody had that much money in the world. Besides, look what you spent for them pearls. Ain't you poor, then, Black Bart?"

"On the contrary, I have that much more money left, very likely. And I do not, to say truth, care a jot, a rap or a stiver, what becomes of the derelict Sea Rover now. Have we not taken a better ship for our own?"

"Yes, but suppose yon varlet boards the Sea Rover, an' chases us the way we done him?"

"Again, by Jove! Jean Lafitte; an idea. But suppose he does? Much good it will do him. For, look you, good leftenant, the Belle Helene will not stop to send any man ashore for baseball scores. Such was not the practise of the old buccaneers, nor shall it be ours; whereas, no matter what the haste, yon varlet could in nowise refrain from that same folly which hath lost him his ship to us. Each hour will only widen the gap between us. Let him take our tub if he likes, and do as he likes, for 'twill be a long day before he picks up our masts over his horizon, Jean Lafitte."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" rejoined my lieutenant, and withdrew. I could see he was not overjoyed at the abandonment of our earlier ship that had brought us so far in safety. All this luxury of the Belle Helene had the effect of oppressing a pirate who so short a time ago had started out on the high seas in a sixteen foot yawl, and who had seen that yawl, in a manner of speaking, grown into a schooner, the schooner comparatively grown into a full-fledged four-decker, richly fitted as any ship of the royal navy.

But these, all, were lesser things to me, for on my soul was a more insistent concern. I turned now, seeing that Peterson, wholly reconciled to the new order of affairs, was speeding the boat onward as though I never had left her; so that I knew she was safe in his hands, although I set Lafitte to watch him. Followed by my faithful friend Partial, who expressed every evidence of having enjoyed a most interesting evening, I presently made my way aft.

As I approached the door of the after-cabin suite, occupied by the ladies, I made my presence known at first discreetly, then more pointedly, and, at length, by a knocking on the door.

"Below, there!" I called, boldly as I could; for eager as I was to see Helena Emory, there were certain things about the interview which might be difficult. Lovers who have parted, finally, approach each other, even by accident, thereafter, with a certain reluctance. (Lovers, did I say? Nay, never had she said she loved me. She had only said she wished she did, wished she could.)

No answer came at first. Then, "Who is it?" in the voice of Aunt Lucinda.

"It is I, Mr. Henry—" but I paused: "—It is I, Black Bart the Avenger," I concluded. "May I come in?"

Silently the door opened, and I entered the little reception-room which lay between the two staterooms of this cabin. Before me stood Helena! And now I was close to her, I could see the little curls at her temples, could see the double curves of her lips, the color in her cheek. Ah! she was the same, the same! I loved her—I loved her not the same, but more and more, more!

She held her peace; and all I could do was to stand and stare and then hold out my hand. She took it formally, though her color heightened. I saluted Aunt Lucinda also, who glared at me. "How do you do?" I said to them both, with much originality and daring.

"Black Bart!" snorted Aunt Lucinda. "Black Bart! It might be, from these goings on. What does it all mean?"

"It means, my dear Mrs. Daniver," said I, "that I have taken charge of the boat myself."

"But how?" demanded Helena. "We did not hear you were coming. And I don't understand. Why, that rascally little nephew of mine, in the mask, frightened auntie nearly to death. And he said the most extraordinary things!

"Where is Mr. Davidson?" she added. "He didn't tell us a word of this."

"He didn't know a word of it himself," I answered. "Let me tell you, no self-respecting pirate—and as you see, I am a pirate—is in the habit of telling his plans in advance."

"A pirate!"

I bowed politely. "At your service. Black Bart—my visiting cards are mislaid, but I intend ordering some new ones. The ship's cook, John, will soon be here with tea. These events may have been wearying. Meantime, allow me to present my friend Partial."

Partial certainly understood human speech. He now approached Helena slowly and stood looking up into her face in adoration. Then, without any command, he lay down deliberately and rolled over; sat up, barked; and so, having done all his repertory for her whom he now—as had his master before him—loved at first sight, he stood again and worshiped.

"Nice doggie!" said Helena courteously.

"Have a care, Helena!" said I. "Love my dog, love me! And all the world loves Partial."

The color heightened in her cheeks. I had never spoken so boldly to her before, but had rather dealt in argument than in assertion; which I, later, was to learn is no way to make love to any woman.

"When do we get back to Natchez?" she demanded.

"We do not get back to Natchez."

"Oh? Then I suppose Mr. Davidson picks us up at Baton Rouge?"

"Yon varlet," said I, "does not pick us up at Baton Rouge."

"New Orleans?"

"Or at New Orleans—unless he is luckier than I ever knew even Cal to be."

"Whatever do you mean?" inquired Aunt Lucinda in tones ominously deep.

"That the Belle Helene is much faster than the tug we left behind at Natchez, even did he find it. He will have hard work to catch us."

"To catch us?"

"Yes, Helena, to catch us. Of course he'll follow in some way. I have, all the way from above Dubuque. Why should not he?"

The ladies looked from me to each other, doubting my sanity, perhaps.

"I don't just understand all this," began Helena. "But since we travel only as we like, and only with guests whom we invite or who are invited by the boat's owner, I shall ask you to put us ashore."

"On a sand-bar, Helena? Among the alligators?"

"Of course I mean at the nearest town."

"There is none where we are going, my dear Miss Emory. Little do you know what lies before you! Black Bart heads for the open sea. Let yon varlet follow at his peril. Believe me, 'twill cost him a very considerable amount of gasoline."

"What right have you on this boat?" she demanded fiercely.

"The right of any pirate."

"Why do you intrude—how dare you—at least, I don't understand——"

"I have taken this ship, Helena," said I, "because it carries treasure—more than you know of, more than I dreamed. My father was a pirate, I am well assured by the public prints. So am I. 'Tis in the blood. But do not anger me. Rather, have a cup of tea." John, my cook, was now at the door with the tray.

"Thank you," rejoined Helena icily. "It would hardly be courteous to Mr. Davidson—to use his servants and his table in this way in his absence. Besides——"

"Besides, I recalled that your Aunt Lucinda's neuralgia is always benefited by a glass or so of ninety-three at about ten thirty of the evening. John!"

"Lessah!"

"Go to the left-hand locker in B; and bring me a bottle of the ninety-three. I think you will find that better than this absurd German champagne which I see yon varlet has been offering you, my dear Mrs. Daniver. But—excuse me——"

Helena looked up, innocently.

"—A moment before there were six empty bottles on the table there. And I saw you writing. How many have you thrown overboard through the port-hole?"

"I didn't know you were so observant," replied Helena demurely. "But only three."

"It is not enough," said I. "Go on, and write your other messages for succor. Use each bottle, and we shall have more emptied for you, if you like. You shall have oil bottles, vinegar bottles, water bottles, wine bottles, all you like. Yon varlet might run across one, floating, it is true. I hope he will. Methinks 'twould bid him speed. But all in vain would be your appeal, for swift must be the craft that can come up with Black Bart now. And desperate, indeed, must be the man would dispute his right to tread these decks."

"I hope you are enjoying yourself," said Helena scornfully. "Don't be silly."

"Will you have tea, Helena?" I asked.

"Poor, dear Mr. Davidson!" sniffed Aunt Lucinda, taking a glance out the port into the black night. "I wonder where he is, and what he will say."

"I can tell you what he will say, my dear Mrs. Daniver," said I; "but I would rather not."

"Well, I'll tell you what I say," snorted Aunt Lucinda. "I think this joke has gone far enough."

"It is no joke, madam. I was never so desperately in earnest in all my life."

"Then put us ashore at Baton Rouge."

"I can not. I shall not."

"What do you mean? Do you know what this looks like, the way you are acting, running off with Mr. Davidson's yacht, and this——"

"Yes, madam?"

"Why, it's robbery, and it's, it's, why it's abduction, too. You ought to know the law."

"I do know the law. It is piracy. Have we not told you that resistance would be worse than useless? Haven't I told you I've captured this ship? Little do you know the fate that lies before you, madam, at the hands of my ruthless men if I should prove unable to restrain them! And have a care not to offend Black Bart the Avenger, himself! If you do, Aunt Lucinda, he may cut off your evening champagne."

I heard a sudden suppressed sound, wondrous like a giggle; but when I turned, Helena was sitting there as sober as Portia, albeit I thought her eyes suspiciously bright.

"Well," said she, at length, "we can't sit here all night and talk about it, and I've used up all my note-paper and bottles. I'll tell you what I suggest, since you have seen fit to intrude on two women in this way. We will hold a parley."

"When?"

"To-morrow."

"At what hour?"

"After breakfast."

"Why not at breakfast?"

"Because we shall eat alone, here,—auntie and I—in our cabin."

"Very well then, if it seems you are so bitter against the new commander of the ship that you will not sit at the captain's table—as we did the second time we went to Europe together, we three—don't you remember, Helena?"

"Never—at your table, sir!" said Helena Emory, her voice like a stab. And when I bethought me what that had meant before now, what it would mean all my life, if this woman might never sit at board of mine, never eat the fruit of my bow and spear, never share with me the bread of life, for one instant I felt the cold thrust of fate's steel once more in my bowels. But the next instant a new manner of feeling took its place, an emotion I never had felt toward her before—anger, rage!

"It is well," said I, pulling together the best I could. "And now, by my halidom! or by George! or by anything! you shall be taken at your word. You breakfast here. Be glad if it is more than bread and water—until you learn a better way of speech with me."

Again I saw that same sudden change on her face, surprise, almost fright; and I swear she shrank from me as though in terror, her hand plucking at Aunt Lucinda's sleeve; whereas, all Aunt Lucinda could do was to pluck at her niece's sleeve in turn.

"As to the parley, then," said I, pulling, by mistake, my mask from my pocket instead of my kerchief, "we shall hold it, to-morrow, at what time and in what place I please. It ill beseems a gentleman to pain one so fair, as we may again remark; but by heaven! Helena, no resistance!"

"Wait! What do you really mean?" She raised a hand. "I've told you I just can't understand all this. I always thought you were a—a—gentleman."

"A much misused word," was my answer. "You never understood me at all. I am not a gentleman. I'm a poor, miserable, unhappy, drifting, aimless and useless failure—at least, I was, until I resolved upon this way to recoup my fortunes, and went in for pirating. What chance has a man who has lost his fortune in the game to-day—what chance with a woman? You ask me, who am I? I am a pirate. You ask what I intend to do? What pirate can answer that? It all depends."

"On what?"

"On you!" I answered furiously. "What right had you to ruin me, to throw me over——"

She turned a frightened glance to Aunt Lucinda, whom I had entirely forgotten. It was my turn to blush. To hide my confusion I drew on my mask as I bowed.

I met John coming down with the ninety-three. As he returned on deck a moment later, I pushed shut the doors and sprung the outside latches; so that those within now were prisoners, indeed. And then I stood looking up at the stars, slowly beginning to see why God made the world.



CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH IS FURTHER PARLEY WITH THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN

Cal Davidson's taste in neckwear was a trifle vivid as compared with my own, yet I rather liked his shirts, and I found a morning waistcoat of his which I could classify as possible; beside which I obtained from John the cook a suit of flannels I had given him four years ago, and which he was saving against the day of his funeral and shipment back to China. So that, on the whole, I did rather well, and I was not ill content with life as I sat, with the Pirate's Own Book in my lap, and Partial's head on my knee, looking out over the passing panorama of the river. The banks now were low, the swamps, at times, showing their fan-topped cypresses close to where we passed; and all the live oaks carried their funereal Spanish moss, gray and ghostlike.

We sometimes passed river craft, going up or down, nondescript, dingy and slow, for the most part. Sometimes we were hailed gaily by monkey-like deck-hands, sometimes saluted by the pilot of a larger boat. At times we swept by busy plantation landings where the levees screened the white-pillared mansion houses so that we could only see the upper galleries. And now at these landings, we began to see the freight, made up as much of barrels as of bales. We were passing from cotton to cane. But though it still was early in the fall, the weather was not oppressive, and the breeze on the deck was cool. I had very much enjoyed my breakfast, and so had my shipmates L'Olonnois and Lafitte, to whom each moment now was a taste of paradise revealed. I envied them, for theirs, now, was that rare, fleeting and most delectable of all human states, the full realization of every cherished earthly dream. It made me quite happy that they were thus happy; and as to the right or wrong of it, I put that all aside for later explanation to them.

I looked up to see Peterson, who touched his cap.

"Yes, Peterson?"

"We're on our last drum of gasoline, Mr. Harry," said he. "Where'll we put in—Baton Rouge?"

"No, we can't do that, Peterson," I answered. "Can't we make it to New Orleans?"

"Hardly. But they carry gas at most of these landings now—so many power boats and autos nowadays, you see."

"Very well. We'll pass Bayou Sara and Baton Rouge, and then you can run in at any landing you like, say twenty miles or so below. Can you make it that far?"

"Oh, yes, but you see, at Baton Rouge——"

"You may lay to long enough to mail these letters," said I, frowning; "but the custom of getting the baseball scores is now suspended. And send John here."

The old man touched his cap again, a trifle puzzled. I wondered if he recognized Davidson's waistcoat—he asked no more questions.

"John," said I to my Chinaman, "carry this to the ladies;" and handed him a card on which I had inscribed: "Black Bart's compliments; and he desires the attendance of the ladies on deck for a parley. At once."

John came back in a few moments and stood on one foot. "She say, she say, Misal Hally, she say no come."

"Letter have got, John?"

"Lessah have got."

"Take it back. Say, at once."

"Lessah. At wullunce."

"Lessah," he added two moments later. "Catchee lettah, them lady, and she say, she say, go to hellee!"

"What! What's that, John? She said nothing of the sort!"

"Lessah, said them. No catchee word, that what she mean. Lady, one time she say, she say, go topside when have got plenty leady for come."

"Go back to your work, John," said I. And I waited with much dignity, for perhaps ten minutes or so, before I heard any signs of life from the after suite. Then I heard the door pushed back, and saw a head come out, a head with dark tendrils of hair at the white neck's nape, and two curls at the temple, and as clean and thoroughbred a sweep of jaw and chin as the bows of the Belle Helene herself. She did not look at me, but studiously gazed across the river, pretended to yawn, idly looked back to see if she were followed; as she knew she was not to be.

At length, she turned as she stepped out on the deck. She was fresh as the dew itself, and like a rose. All color of rose was the soft skirt she wore, and the little bolero above, blue, with gold buttons, covered a soft rose-colored waist, light and subtle as a spider's web, stretched from one grass stalk to another of a dewy morning. She was round and slender, and her neck was tall and round, and in the close fashion of dress which women of late have devised, to remind man once more of the ancient Garden, she seemed to me Eve herself, sweet, virginal, as yet in a garden dew-sweet in the morning of the world.

She turned, I say, and by mere chance and in great surprise, discovered me, now cap in hand, and bowing.

"Oh," she remarked; very much surprised.

"Good morning, Eve," said I. "Have you used Somebody's Soap; or what is it that you have used? It is excellent."

A faint color came to her cheek, the corners of her bowed lips twitched. "For a pirate, or a person of no culture, you do pretty well. As though a girl could sleep after all this hullabaloo."

"You have slept very well," said I. "You never looked better in all your life, Helena. And that is saying the whole litany."

"You are absurd," said she. "You must not begin it all again. We settled it once."

"We settled it twenty times, or to be exact, thirteen times, Helena. The only trouble is, it would not stay settled. Tell me, is there any one else yet, Helena?"

"It is not any question for you to ask, or for me to answer." She was cold at once. "I've not tried to hear of you or your plans, and I suppose the same is true of you. It is long since I have had a heartache over you—a headache is all you can give me now, or ever could. That is why I can not in the least understand why you are here now. Auntie is almost crazy, she is so frightened. She thinks you are entirely crazy, and believes you have murdered Mr. Davidson."

"I have not yet done so, although it is true I am wearing his shoes; or at least his waistcoat. How do you like it?"

"I like the one with pink stripes better," she replied demurely.

"So then—so then!" I began; but choked in anger at her familiarity with Cal Davidson's waistcoats. And my anger grew when I saw her smile.

"Tell me, are you engaged to him, Helena?" I demanded. "But I can see; you are." She drew herself up as she stood, her hands behind her back.

"A fine question to ask, isn't it? Especially in view of what we both know."

"But you haven't told me."

"And am not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because it is the right of a middle-aged woman like myself——"

"—Twenty-four," said I.

"—To do as she likes in such matters. And she doesn't need make any confidences with a man she hasn't seen for years. And for whom she never—she never——"

"Helena," said I, and I felt pale, whether or not I looked it, "be careful. That hurts."

"Oh, is it so?" she blazed. "I am glad if it does hurt."

I bowed to her. "I am glad if it gives you pleasure to see me hurt. I am. Habeo!"

"But it was not so as to me," I added presently. "Yes, I said good-by to you, that last time, and I meant it. I had tried for years, I believe, with every argument in my power, to explain to you that I loved you, to explain that in every human likelihood we would make a good match of it, that we—we—well, that we'd hit it off fine together, very likely. And then, I was well enough off—at first, at least——"

"Oh, don't!" she protested. "It is like opening a grave. We buried it all, Harry. It's over. Can't you spare a girl, a middle-aged girl of twenty-four, this resurrection? We ended it. Why, Harry, we have to make out some sort of life for ourselves, don't we? We can't just sit down and—and——"

"No," said I. "I tried it. I got me a little place, far up in the wilderness with what remained of my shattered fortunes—a few acres. And I sat down there and tried that 'and—and' business. It didn't seem to work. But we don't get on much in our parley, do we?"

"No. The most charitable thing I can think of is that you are crazy. Aunt Lucinda must be right. But what do you intend to do with us? We can't get off the boat, and we can't get any answer to our signals for help."

"So you have signaled?"

"Of course. Waved things, you know."

"Delightful! The passing steamers no doubt thought you a dissipated lot of northern joy-riders, bound south on some rich man's yacht."

"Instead of two troubled women on a stolen boat."

"Are you engaged to Cal Davidson, Helena?"

"What earthly difference?"

"True, none at all. As you say, I have stolen his boat, stolen his wine, stolen his fried potatoes, stolen his waistcoats. But, bear witness, I drew the line at his neckties. Nowhere else, however!" And as I added this I looked at her narrowly.

"Will you put us ashore?" she asked, her color rising.

"No."

"We're coming to a town."

"Baton Rouge. The capital of Louisiana. A quaint and delightful city of some sixty thousand inhabitants. The surrounding country is largely devoted to the sugar industry. But we do not stop. Tell me, are you engaged?"

But, suddenly, I saw her face, and on it was something of outraged dignity. I bent toward her eagerly. "Forgive me! I never wanted to give you pain, Helena. Forget my improper question."

"Indeed!"

"I've been fair with you. And that's hard for a man. Always, always,—let me tell you something women don't understand—there's the fight in a man's soul to be both a gentleman and a brute, because a woman won't love him till he's a brute, and he hates himself when he isn't a gentleman. It's hard, sometimes, to be both. But I tried. I've been a gentleman—was once, at least. I told you the truth. When they investigated my father, and found that, acting under the standard of his day, he hadn't run plumb with the standards of to-day, I came and told you of it. I released you then, although you never had promised me, because I knew you mightn't want an alliance with—well, with a front page family, you know. It blew over, yes; but I was fair with you. You knew I had lost my money, and then you——"

"I remained 'released'."

"Yes, it is true."

"And am free, have been, to do as I liked."

"Yes, true."

"And what earthly right has a man to try both roles with a woman—that of discarded and accepted? You chose the first; and I never gave you the last. It is horrible, this sort of talk. It is abominable. For three years we have not met or spoken. I've not had a heartache since I told you. Don't give me a headache now. And it would make my head ache, to follow these crazy notions. Put us ashore!"

"Not till I know the truth," said I.

"About what?"

"Well, for instance, about the waistcoat with pink stripes."

"You are silly."

"Yes. How do you like my suit?"

"I never saw Mr. Davidson wear that one," said she.

"For good reasons. It is my own, and four years old. You see, a poor man has to economize. And you know, since I lost my fortune, I've been living almost from hand to mouth. Honestly, Helena, many is the time when I've gone out fishing, trying to catch me a fish for my supper!"

"So does a poor girl have to economize," said she.

"You are most sparing of the truth this morning, Helena, my dear," I said.

"How dare you!" she blazed now at the tender phrase. "Fine, isn't it, when I can't get away? If I could, I'd go where I'd never see or hear of you again. I thought I had."

"But you have not. You shall hear and see me daily till I know from your own lips the truth about you and—and every and any other man on earth who—well, who wears waistcoats with pink stripes."

"We'll have a long ride then," said she calmly, and rose.

I rose also and bowed.



CHAPTER XVII

IN WHICH IS HUE AND CRY

We ran by the river-front of Baton Rouge, and lay to on the opposite side while our dingey ran in with mail. I sent Peterson and Lafitte ashore for the purpose, and meantime paced the deck in several frames of mind. I was arrested in this at length by L'Olonnois, who was standing forward, glasses in hand.

"Here they come," said he, "and a humpin' it up, too. Look, Jean Lafitte is standin' up, wavin' at us. Something's up, sure. Mayhap, we are pursued by the enemy. Methinks 'tis hue and cry, good Sir."

"It jolly well does look like it, mate," said I, taking his glasses. "Something's up."

I could see the stubby dingey forced half out the water by Peterson's oars, though she made little speed enough. And I saw men hurrying on the wharf, as though about to put out a boat.

"What's wrong, Peterson?" I shouted as he came in range at last.

"Hurry up!" It was Lafitte who answered. "Clear the decks for action. Yon varlet has wired on ahead to have us stopped! They're after us!" So came his call through cupped hands.

I ran to the falls and lowered away the blocks to hoist them aboard, even as I ordered speed and began to break out the anchor. We hardly were under way before a small power boat, bearing a bluecoated man, puffed alongside.

"What boat is this?" he called. "Belle Helene, of Mackinaw?"

In answer—without order from me,—my bloodthirsty mate, L'Olonnois, brought out the black burgee of the Jolly Rover, bearing a skull and cross-bones. "Have a look at that!" he piped. "Shall we clear the stern-chaser, Black Bart?"

"Hold on there, wait! I've got papers for you," called the officer, still hanging at our rail, for I had not yet ordered full speed.

"He hollered to me he was going to arrest us, Mr. Harry," explained Peterson, much out of breath. "What's it all about? What papers does he mean?"

"The morning papers, very likely, Peterson," said I. "The baseball scores."

"Will you halt, now?" called the officer.

"No," I answered, through the megaphone. "You have no authority to halt us. What's your paper, and who is it for?"

"Wire from Calvin Davidson, Natchez, charging John Doe with running off with his boat."

"This is not his boat," I answered, "but my own, and I am not John Doe. We are on our way to the coast, and not under any jurisdiction of yours."

He stood up and drew a paper from his pocket, and began to read. In reply I pulled the whistle cord and drowned his voice; while at the same time I gave the engineer orders for full speed. Shaking his fist, he fell astern.

None the less, I was a bit thoughtful. After all, the Mississippi River, wide as it was, ran within certain well defined banks from which was no escaping. We were three hundred miles or more from the high seas, and passing between points of continuous telegraphic communication; so that a hue and cry down the river might indeed mean trouble for us. Moreover, even as I turned to pick up the course—for I had myself taken the wheel—I saw the figure of Aunt Lucinda on the after deck. She was on the point of heaving overboard a bottle—I heard it splash, saw it bob astern. "Now, the devil will be to pay," thought I. But, on second thought, I slowed down, so that distinctly I saw the officer, also slowing down, stoop over and take the bottle aboard his launch.

"Ahoy, the launch!" I hailed. He put a hand at his ear as I megaphoned him. "Take this message for Mr. Calvin Davidson," I hailed. He nodded that he heard. "—That to-night John Doe will wear his waistcoat, the one with the pink stripes. Do you get me?"

Apparently he did not get me, for he sat down suddenly and mopped his face. We left him so. And for aught I could know, he took back ashore material for a newspaper story, which bade fair to be better for the newspapers than for us on board the Belle Helene; for, up and down the river, the wires might carry the news that a crazy man had been guilty of piracy, highway robbery, abduction, I know not how many other crimes; and to arrest him on his mad career they might enlist all the authorities, municipal, county, state and even national. "John Doe," said I to myself, "if I really were you, methinks I should make haste." None the less I smiled; for, if I were John Doe only, then Calvin Davidson had no idea who had stolen his chartered yacht, and who was about to disport in his most cherished waistcoat! The situation pleased me very much. "L'Olonnois," said I, "come hither, my hearty."

"Aye, aye, Sir," replied that worthy. "What is it, Black Bart?"

"Nothing, except I was just going to say that I enjoy it very much, this being a pirate."

"So do I," said he. "An' let any pursue us at their peril!"



CHAPTER XVIII

IN WHICH IS DISCUSSION OF TWO AUNTIES

L'Olonnois was still all for training the stern-chaser Long Tom (the Belle Helene's brass yacht cannon) on the enemy, and came to me presently breathing defiance. "'F I only had any chain shot in the locker," said he, "beshrew me, but I would pay him well for this! He's got my Auntie Helen's auntie scared silly."

"And how about your Auntie Helena herself?" I asked of him. Thus far, he had been guilty of no nepotism whatever, and had treated his auntie as any other captive maiden, perchance fallen into his ruthless hands.

"Well, she ain't so scared as she is mad, near's I can see," was his reply. "She sat there when I first drove 'em down-stairs, lookin' at me, an' she says, 'Jimmy,' says she, 'what's all this foolishness?' An' she reaches out her hand, an' she offers me candy—she makes awful nice fudges, too. She knew that wasn't fair! But I says to her. 'Woman, cease all blandishments, for now you are in our power!' An' I liked that, fer I been in her power long enough. Then she set down, an' near's I can tell, she got to thinking things over. I know her—she'll try to get away."

"She has tried to do so, my good leftenant, is trying now. She and her Auntie Lucinda have thrown over I know not how many bottles carrying messages. It were only by mere chance yon varlet could escape coming over some of them. Add this to the fact that yon varlet has got the king's navy after us, and marry! methinks we have full work cut out for us. Not that stout heart should falter, good leftenant, eh?"

"We follow Black Bart the Avenger," said L'Olonnois, folding his arms and frowning heavily. "But say," he added, "what seems funny to me is, you and my Auntie Helen must of known each other before now."

"Not at all, not at all—that is, but casually, and long years since. It had long since escaped my mind." I felt myself flushing sadly.

"I'll tell her that—I knew she was mistaken. I was sure she was."

"No! No! Jimmy, you'll tell her nothing of the kind. I only meant——"

"Well, she remembers you, I'm almost sure, an' so does Aunt Lucinda. Aunt Lucinda, why I've heard her back home tell Auntie Helena about as good fish in the sea, an' she mustn't bother over a man that's poor. Was it you, Black Bart? And are you poor?"

"As I stand before you now, Jimmy L'Olonnois, I'm the poorest beggar in the world," said I. "I have risked my all on one hazard. If I win, I shall be rich beyond compare. If I fail, I shall be poor indeed."

"She knows that. She knows you're poor, all right. I heard Aunt Lucinda tell her often. She said you was rich once, an' lost it all, speculatin' in a mine or something; an' what was the use marryin' a man who hadn't anything? I don't know, but I think that was why Aunt Lucinda worked up this trip with Mr. Davidson. He's got money to burn—look at this yacht, an' everything—an' I know him and Auntie Lucinda, anyhow, have got it doped out that him an' Auntie Helen's goin' to get married—even if they ain't now, so far's I know. Anyhow, our takin' the ship has broke up something. But say, now, Black Bart——"

"Well, my good leftenant——"

"I got a idea!"

"Indeed?"

"Yep. Looka here, now—why don't you just do like the pirate book says?"

"How is that?"

"Marry the captive maid your own self?"

I felt my color rise yet more.

"Why, now, that happened right along in them days—pirate chief, he takes a beautiful maiden captive, an' after makin' all his prisoners walk the plank but just her, he offers his hand an' fortune. An' lots of times, somehow, the beautiful maiden she married the ruthless pirate chief, an' they lived happy ever after. Why don't you?"

"I hadn't thought of that, Jimmy," I said, most mendaciously; "but the idea has some merit. In fact, we've already started in by taking the beautiful maiden captive, and, mayhap, yon varlet yet shall walk the plank, or swear a solemn oath never to wear such waistcoats as these again. But one thing lacks."