"HAS the boy eaten his fill?"
"Ay, enough for six, the young villain."
"Then pass him along here, Patch," and Captain Firebrace turned to look once more across the tranquil ocean at a half-dismantled vessel, which his own was slowly leaving behind it. The sky was so blue, the air so warm, and the sea so calm that it was difficult to believe that only a couple of days before they had been tossed about by a furious hurricane. Yet so it was, and although the "Morning Star" had weathered the storm, it appeared that other vessels had not been equally fortunate.
"A sail on the weather-bow," had shouted the man at the mast-head, a warning which put Captain and crew instantly on the alert, looking to the priming of the guns. It was for no good and peaceful ends that the rakish-looking "Morning Star" sailed the high seas, as more than a dozen unlucky merchantmen had found to their cost.
On this occasion there was no resistance, for the schooner espied by the watcher was drifting about helplessly, and when Firebrace and his men boarded her, the only living soul they found was a boy locked in a cabin, and half dead of hunger. It was clear that the crew and passengers, expecting the ship to go down, had taken to the boats.
Roger Cary, fortified by a good meal, was able to stand up and reply to the Captain's questions. The ship, he declared, was the "Speedy Return," bound for Jamaica; his uncle, Austin Cary, being the Captain. He himself hailed from Devonshire,—Roger, only son of Squire Cary of Paignton, and he had run away from home, being wild to go a sea trip. He could not say who had locked him into the cabin.
"H'm," remarked Captain Firebrace drily, "failing you, I presume this uncle of yours is your father's heir, is he not? Well, you would have starved like a rat in a trap had we not chanced upon your ship. And now, my young cock-o'-the-west, the point is, what are we going to do with you."
"I will gladly work," began Roger eagerly, but he was interrupted by a hoarse voice, and the huge giant, Patch, thrust forward his grim-looking visage.
"Cap'n," he cried, "'tis our opinion, me and my mates, that the boy should go overboard to the sharks without more ado. We want no spies and mealy-mouths here: our necks be none too safe for that."