“‘“Then the ships seen in the offing yesterday were pirates?”
“‘“Yes; they belong to my fleet.”
“‘“Were you the blackest-souled pirate that ever lived,” said O’More, stretching out his hand to shake, “you saved my daughter’s life, and I shall never forget you when I pray. But tell us all your story.”
“‘I did so simply and straightforwardly, as I have told it in these pages, mitigating only as much as I could the horrible cruelties of the awful murderer Morgan.
“‘Once again O’More shook hands with me, and so also, much to my joy, did innocent little Aileen.
“‘“Instead of being a guilty pirate,” said my host, “I look upon you as a martyr, living a life that is horribly distasteful to you for the sake of being able, now and then, to save from slaughter some of your unhappy countrymen. Nay, nay, you have nothing to regret or be ashamed of. But you say you now wish to retire.”
“‘“That I shall, if possible.”
“‘Then O’More told me his story. It was a very simple one. He too was going home, much though he loved life on the old plantation. One-half of the island really belonged to him, and he had amassed some wealth here.
“‘The evening sped away all too soon with talking, with music and singing; and having turned in, I hardly knew where I was until a bird, trilling a low, sweet song at my open window, awoke me, and I found it was broad daylight.
“‘When Aileen appeared at our early breakfast, she was dressed in plain white, with ribbons of blue, and hardly looked her age, which was seventeen. I seemed to love her better every hour.