Dickory Charter was in much worse case than Ben Greenway.  He was not much of a geographical scholar, but he knew that the Gulf of Honduras was not really very far from the Island of Jamaica, where dwelt, waited, and watched Mistress Kate Bonnet and his mother.  If he had known that during the voyage down from the Atlantic coast the Revenge had sailed through the Windward Passage, running in some of her long tacks within less than a day’s sail of Jamaica, he would have chafed, fumed, and fretted even more than he did now.

“Captain Bonnet,” he cried, “if you could but let me go on shore, I might surely find some vessel bound to Kingston, or to any place upon the Island of Jamaica, from which spot I could make my way on foot, even if it were on the opposite end.  Thus I could take messages and letters from you to your daughter and Mr. Delaplaine, and ease the minds both of them and my mother, all of whom must now be in most doleful plight, not knowing anything about you or hearing anything from me, and this for so long a time; then you could remain here with no feelings of haste until you had disposed of your cargoes and had finished your business.”

Captain Bonnet stood loftily with a smile of benignity upon his face.  “It is a clever plan,” said he, “and you are a good fellow, Dickory, but your scheme, though well intentioned, is unsound.  I have too much regard for you to trust you in any vessel sailing from Belize to Kingston, where there are often naval vessels.  Going from this port, you would be as likely to be strung up to the yard-arm as to be allowed to go ashore.  Be patient then, my good fellow; when my affairs are settled here, the Revenge may run up to the coast of Jamaica, where you may be put off at some quiet spot, and all may happen as you have planned, my good Dickory.  Even now I am writing a letter, hoping for some such opportunity of sending it to my daughter.”

Dickory sighed in despair.  It might take a month or more before Kate’s father could settle his affairs, and how long, how long it had been since his soul had been reaching itself out towards Kate and his mother!

When the sailing-master set out in the long-boat, crowded with men, he stopped at the bark but did not go too near for fear that some of the crew might jump into his already overloaded boat.

“You are to run up this rag,” cried Black Paul to Clip, the fellow in command; and so saying, he handed up the old Jolly Roger on the blade of an oar.  “Our noble admiral fears that if you do not that you may be captured by some of these good vessels lying hereabout.”

Clip roared out with a laugh:  “I will attend to the capture as soon as I get out of reach of his guns, which he will not dare to use here, I take it.  But I want you to know and him to know that we’re not goin’ to stay on board and in sight of the town.  If you go ashore, so go we.”

“Stay where ye are till orders come to ye,” shouted Black Paul, “if ye want to keep the cat off your backs!” And as he rowed away the men on the bark gave him a cheer and proceeded to lower two boats.