For a moment a shadow of perplexity fell upon Captain Bonnet’s face.  He could readily perceive that the infirm Mr. Ballinger could not walk a plank, or even mount one, unless some one went with him to assist him, and as to his wife, she was evidently a termagant; and, having sailed his ship and floated his Jolly Roger in order to get rid of one termagant, he was greatly annoyed at being brought thus, face to face, with another.  He stood for a moment silent.  The old gentleman looked as if he would like to go down to his cabin and cover up his head with his blanket until all this commotion should be over; the daughter sobbed as she gazed about her, taking in every point of this most novel situation; and the mother, with dilated nostrils, still glared.

In the midst of all this varying disturbance Captain Marchand stood quiet and unmoved, apparently paying no attention to any one except his old neighbour and fellow-vestryman, Stede Bonnet, upon whose face his eyes were steadily fixed.

Ben Greenway now approached the pirate captain and led him aside.

“Let your men make awa’ wi’ the cargo as they please—­I doubt if it be more than odds an’ ends, for such are the goods they bring to Bridgetown—­an’ let them cast off an’ go their way, an’ ye an’ I will return to Bridgetown in the Amanda an’ a’ may yet be weel, this bit o’ folly bein’ forgotten.”

It might have been supposed that Bonnet would have retaliated upon the Scotchman for thus advising him, in the very moment of triumph, to give up his piratical career and to go home quietly to his plantation, but, instead of that, he paused for a moment’s reflection.

“Ben Greenway,” said he, “there is good sense in what you say.  In truth, I cannot bring myself to put to death my old friend and neighbour and his helpless passengers.  As for the ship, it will do me no more good burned than unburned.  And there is another thing, Ben Greenway, which I would fain do, and it just came into my mind.  I will write a letter to my wife and one to my daughter Kate.  There is much which I wish them to know and which I have not yet been able to communicate.  I will allow the Amanda to go on her way and I will send these two letters by her captain.  They shall be ready presently, and you, Ben, stand by these people and see that no harm comes to them.”

At this moment there were loud shouts and laughter from below, and Captain Marchand came forward.

“Friend Bonnet,” he said, “your men have discovered my store of spirits; in a short time they will be drunk, and it will then be unsafe for these, my passengers.  Bid them, I pray you, to convey the liquors aboard your ship.”

“Well said!” cried Bonnet.  “I would not lose those spirits.”  And, stepping forward, he spoke to Big Sam, who had just appeared on deck, and ordered the casks to be conveyed on board the Revenge.

The latter laughed, but said:  “Ay, ay, sir!”