I pressed him to know the cause of so much generosity; and I learned that the man I had killed in the fray was a desperate mutineer who threatened to overthrow the captaincy of Teach.
“Now,” continued the buccaneer, “you’ve got some money, and if you don’t find a way to escape in less than six months you deserve to hang.”
The approach of some of the crew prevented any further talk between us. The next day we ran into port. I was duly bound out to service in the capacity of what is called a redemptioner. This kind of service, I was told, received its name from the fact that the redemptioner, or bond-servant, could buy back his freedom by paying a certain sum of money at any time after five years of service. It was into this kind of bond that Ruth had intended to enter before I found her in Bristol. As I had given her but little ready money, I feared that fate had again laid its harsh hand on Ruth and me alike.
The immediate effect upon me of my service, or imprisonment, for such it really was, was to undo what small tolerance towards the Roman church I had learned from Ruth. The buccaneers bound me out to a Catholic owner of plantations, and soon, upon an attempt to escape, he had me stripped and flogged at the public whipping post on a crowded market day. I was kept close after that and not allowed to stray from the spot of my labors.
For some time, in memory of Ruth, I struggled hard against a change of heart. But little by little my bitter hatred came back to me, and the mere shadow of a Catholic was something to be trampled under foot and spat upon. I resolved to make my escape, come what would, and to this end I was alert to every accident that could be turned to my advantage.
At that time the governments of Europe, and especially of England, were determined to put down the evil practices of the buccaneers. Orders were sent to all the American colonies to arrest the pirates wherever found. They were by this means driven from the larger ports and forced to frequent the smaller villages on the sea. Sometimes, nay, generally, their visits were connived at because of their liberal exchange in captured goods and of the cupidity of the merchants. It chanced, however, that an occasional honest magistrate made a rapid descent upon some unexpected place and captured a rover in an out of the way anchorage.
I had been in Maryland nearly a year when an event occurred that offered me a desperate chance of freedom. Captain Tew, a noted pirate, was discovered lying in a cove not far away. The planter to whom I was bound out, and who was also magistrate of the district, prepared to capture the buccaneer. By accident I learned his plans. They were so well laid that, if carried out in secrecy, they could not but be successful. I made up my mind to warn the pirate of his danger, to win thereby his gratitude, and purchase the means of flight. I succeeded in my venture by so narrow a margin that Captain Tew was quite aware that I had rendered him a great service. His gratitude knew no bounds. Though he had intended to sail farther to the south, he set his vessel northward again in order to land me near New York, where I hoped to find Ruth awaiting me. But before we reached our destination he did me the service I have already spoken of. Upon the gift he gave me the day before we reached Long Island turned an important part of my career in the province of New York.
CHAPTER IV
THE BUCCANEER’S GIFT
We made a quick sail from Maryland to the neighborhood of New York and drew near Long Island on a bright day in August. The stiff wind caught up the jetting water from the prow of our ship and rained it down upon the slant of the waves with a rattle like sand falling upon the deck. I clung to the rail with both my hands and my heart rose higher with every bound of the ship.
“You look merry to-day,” cried Captain Tew at my elbow. “I have good news. The lookout on the mizzen top has sighted land.”