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

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


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Well stored wi' togs an' gold,

       And off I go to sea for more,

       A-piratin' so bold.

       An' wounded in the arm I got,

       An' then a pretty blow;

       Comed home I find Poll's flowed away,

       Yo, ho, with the rum below!"

      Charles Town might be glad to get the pirates' gold but it seemed a timorous welcome, for the merchants peered from their doorways like rabbits when the hounds are loose, and nervous old gentlemen took cover in the near-by alleys. Stede Bonnet knew how to keep his men in hand and allowed only part of the company ashore at once. They were like hilarious children out for a lark, capering outside the tavern to the music of a strolling fiddler or buying horses on the spot and trying to ride them. When they were pitched off on their heads the mirth was uproarious.

      In a field beside the tavern some townsmen were shooting at a mark for a prize of a dressed bullock while a group of gentlemen from the plantations were intent on a cock-fight in the tap-room. Here was rare pastime for the frolicsome blades of the Royal James and soon they were banging away with their pistols or betting their gold-pieces on the steel-gaffed birds, singing the louder as the bottle was passed. Captain Stede Bonnet stayed prudently sober, ready for any emergency, his demeanor cool and watchful while he chatted with old acquaintances.

      He talked often with Jack Cockrell to whom he had taken a strong fancy, and pressed the lad to dine with him. Jack was uneasy at being seen so publicly with a notorious pirate but the experience was delightful beyond words. The captain asked him many questions, twisting his mustachios and staring down from his commanding height with an air of friendly interest. He had found a lad after his own heart.

      The seamen tired of their sport and sought new diversion. Some of them kicked off their boots and clinched in wrestling matches for prodigal stakes of gold and jewels. Others found girls to dance with them or wandered off to buy useless trinkets in the shops. Jack Cockrell knew he ought to be posting home to dinner but he was tempted to accept Stede Bonnet's cordial bidding. Boyish friends of his hovered near and regarded him as a hero. No pirate captain had ever deigned to notice them.

      Alas for Jack and his puffed-up pride which was doomed to a sudden fall! There advanced from a better quarter of the town a florid, foppishly dressed gentleman of middle age who walked with a pompous gait. He was stout-bodied and the heat of the day oppressed him. Mopping his face with a lace handkerchief or fanning himself with his hat, he halted now and then in a shady spot. Very mindful of his rank and dignity was Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, sometime London barrister, at present Secretary to the Council of the Province.

      He differed from some of his neighbors in that he abominated pirates and would have given them short shift. A trifle near-sighted, he was quite close to the tavern before he espied his own nephew and ward, Jack Cockrell, in this shameful company of roisterers. The august uncle blinked, opened his mouth, and turned as red as a lobster. Indignation choked his speech. For his part, Jack stood dumfounded and quaking, the picture of a coward with a guilty conscience. He would have tried to steal from sight but it was too late.

      Captain Stede Bonnet enjoyed the tableau and several of his wicked sailors were mimicking the pompous strut of Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes. Poor Jack mumbled some explanation but his irate uncle first paid his respects to Captain Bonnet.

      "Shame to you, sirrah," he cried in a voice that shook with passion. "A man of good birth, by all accounts, who has fallen so low as to lead these vile gallows-birds! And you would entice this lad of mine to follow your dirty trade?"

      Captain Bonnet doffed the great beaver hat and bowed low in mocking courtesy. He perceived that this fussy lawyer was not wholly a popinjay, for it required courage to insult a pirate to his face. The reply was therefore milder than expected.

      "Mayhap I am painted blacker than the fact, Councilor. As for this fine stripling who has so disgraced himself, the fault is mine. He risked his life to save a maid from harm. The deed won my affection."

      "The maids of Charles Town would need to fear no harm if more pirates were hanged, Captain Bonnet," roundly declared Mr. Forbes, shaking his gold-tipped cane at the freebooter.

      "'Tis fortunate for me that you lack the power, my fat and petulant gentleman," was the smiling response.

      "Laugh while you may," quoth the other. "These Provinces may soon proclaim joint action against such pests as you."

      With a shrug, the Secretary turned to his crestfallen nephew and sharply exclaimed:

      "Home with you, John Cockrell. You shall go dinnerless and be locked in your room."

      The seamen guffawed at this and Jack furiously resented their ridicule. He was on the point of rebellion as he hotly retorted:

      "I am no child to be treated thus, Uncle Peter. Didn't you hear Captain Bonnet report that I had proved myself a man? I trounced one of his own crew, a six-foot bully with a dirk and pistols."

      "A fig for that," rapped out Uncle Peter. "Your bully was drunk and helpless, I have no doubt. Will you bandy words with me?"

      With this his plump fingers closed on Jack's elbow which he used as a handle to lead him firmly and rapidly away. Behind them pranced a limber young negro who showed every tooth in his head. Jack heard the derisive laughter of the pirates who had hailed him as a hero. His cup of bitterness overflowed when it occurred to him that Captain Bonnet would despise a lad who could be led home in custody of a dandified tyrant of an uncle.

      Chapter II.

       The Merchant Trader, Plymouth Adventure

       Table of Contents

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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