* * * * *

When the Amanda moved away from the side of the pirate vessel Revenge she hoisted all sail, and got away over the sea as fast as the prevailing wind could take her.  When she passed the bar below Bridgetown and came to anchor, Captain Marchand immediately lowered a boat and was rowed up the river to the recent residence of Major Stede Bonnet, and there he delivered two letters—­one to the wife of that gentleman, and the other for his daughter.  Then the captain rowed back and went into the town, where he annoyed and nearly distracted the citizens by giving them the most cautious and expurgated account of the considerate and friendly manner in which the Amanda had been relieved of her cargo by his old friend and fellow-vestryman, Major Bonnet.

Captain Marchand had been greatly impressed by the many things which Ben Greenway had said about his master’s present most astounding freak, and hoping in his heart that repentance and a suitable reparation might soon give this hitherto estimable man an opportunity to return to his former place in society, he said as little as he could against the name and fame of this once respected fellow-citizen.  When he communicated with the English owners of his now departed cargo, he would know what to say to them, but here, safe in harbour with his vessel and his passengers, he preferred to wait for a time before entirely blackening the character of the man who had allowed him to come here.  Like the faithful Ben Greenway, he did not yet believe in Stede Bonnet’s piracy.

Madam Bonnet read her letter and did not like it.  In fact, she thought it shameful.  Then she opened and read the letter to her step-daughter.  This she did not like either, and she put it away in a drawer; she would have nothing to do with the transmission of such an epistle as this.  Most abominable when contrasted with the scurrilous screed he had written to her.

* * * * *

Day after day passed on, and Kate Bonnet arose each morning feeling less happy than on the day before.  But at last a letter came, brought by a French vessel which had touched at Barbadoes.  This letter was to Kate from Martin Newcombe.  It was a love-letter, a very earnest, ardent love-letter, but it did not make the young girl happy, for it told her very little about her father.  The heart of the lover was so tender that he would say nothing to his lady which might give her needless pain.  He had heard what Captain Marchand had told and he had not understood it, and could only half believe it.  Kate must know far more about all this painful business than he did, for her father’s letter would tell her all he wished her to know.  Therefore, why should he discuss that most distressing and perplexing subject, which he knew so little about and which she knew all about.  So he merely touched upon Major Bonnet and his vessel, and hoped that she might soon write to him and tell him what she cared for him to know, what she cared for him to tell to the people of Bridgetown, and what she wished to repose confidentially to his honour.  But whatever she chose to say to him or not to say to him, he would have her remember that his heart belonged to her, and ever would belong, no matter what might happen or what might be said for good or for bad, on the sea or the land, by friends or enemies.