“Hullo!” she cried, “how nice! Hullo! hullo! Let’s play at being pirates.”
Her mirth and excitement were infectious.
In a minute or two we were armed and had rushed on deck, and the play was commenced.
The old Thunderbolt now was making good way down the harbour, and how she missed fouling and sinking some of the craft is to me a mystery to this day. But some of them had a marvellously close shave.
The whole harbour was now alarmed, and the officers and crews swarmed on the decks of the vessels. But the stately hulk held on her way, heading—sometimes sterning—for more open water.
Meanwhile, Pirate Jill was cheering in the ratlines, and finally leaped down, and the battle began with swords, we, the combatants, shouting as wildly as we thought was desirable.
We were now bearing close down upon the flag-ship, and could distinguish the officers on the poop.
“Hurrah!” cried Jill, “let’s now play at being pirates proper.”
“Hullo!” cried Mattie, “we’re all pirates.”
I ran speedily off for Tom’s old battered speaking trumpet, and we were very close to the flag-ship when I hailed her, in true pirate fashion.