The Life of a Celebrated Buccaneer / A Page of Past History for the Use of the Children of To-day

Once upon a time there lived on an island, separated from the main land of Europe by a silver streak of the ocean, a celebrated Buccaneer.
There was a rugged grandeur about the rock-bound coast of this island, with its bluff, bold headlands and beetling cliffs, where the sea birds loved to make their nests high up above the spray; mingling their cries with the voice of the ocean as it rushed into its wide and deep throated caverns. The waves, too, worked ever, and for ever, a broad fretwork collar round these rocky shores. Unlucky was the ship that found this island on her lee in a gale of wind. Many a child had been made fatherless there, and many a wife a widow. But to those who knew how to thread their way through the many channels, numerous bays, creeks, and rivers, offered a safe retreat either from the storm or from an enemy.
This island was a fit home for one following the profession of a Buccaneer. Its natural advantages were extremely great; for not only was it difficult of access, but its innumerable big throated caverns opened their wide jaws ready to receive anything that floated in from the ocean. However, this bold pirate did such a good business, that in a short time these caves became too small, so he had to build wharves and warehouses to hold his plunder; for he lived in such an age, and was surrounded by such unprincipled people, that he could not leave his things lying about on the shore. Besides which, the climate was not good, being frequently visited by fogs, gales of wind, and very heavy rains.
Soon villages rose up; then towns, which in their turn grew into great cities, the principal of which were generally planted by the side of some one of his many rivers. Soon the bays and rivers became crowded with ships, and the shores were busy scenes of industry. Cargoes were being landed. Sails were being made and repaired; ropes overhauled and restranded, and the smell of the pitch caldrons rose up and mingled with the salt air blown in fresh from the sea. Shipwrights' hammers resounded along the shores, and were echoed back by the beetling cliffs. While the men worked, the women sang, and the chubby-faced, fair-haired children played about on the beach.