"You shall come to see him hanged," shouted Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, very red in the face. "The merchant ship Plymouth Adventure is expected soon, and you and I shall take passage in her for Merry England, thanking heaven to see the last of the barbarous Carolinas for a time."
"Thank your own thanks, sir," grumbled Jack. "Captain Bonnet may be a pirate but he is not nearly so heartless as my own uncle. He asked me to dinner at the tavern. I am faint for lack of food. My stomach sticks to my ribs. 'Tis a great pity you were never a growing boy yourself. For a platter of cold meat and bread I will take my oath to chop you a pile of firewood as high as the kitchen."
The gaoler relented and bustled out to ransack the pantry. Having demolished a joint and a loaf, young John Spencer Cockrell was in a mood much less melancholy. In fact, when he swung the axe behind the fence of hewn palings, he was humming the refrain of that wicked ditty: "Yo, Ho, with the Rum Below!" He was tremendously sorry that he had been snatched away from the engaging society of Captain Bonnet and his wild crew, and the future had a gloomy aspect, but even these grievances were forgotten when he descried, in a lane which led past the house, the lovely maid whose cause he had championed at the wharf.
She was Dorothy, only daughter of Colonel Malcolm Stuart who commanded the militia forces of the Colony. Although she was the elder by two or three years and gave herself the airs of a young lady, Jack Cockrell hopelessly, secretly adored her. It was an anti-climax for a hero to be serving out his sentence at the wood-pile and he turned his back to the gate while he made the chips fly. But Dorothy had no intention of ignoring him. She paused with a smile so winsome that Jack's heart fluttered and he dropped the axe to grasp her outstretched hand. He squeezed it so hard that Dorothy winced as she said:
"What a masterful man it is, but please don't crush my poor fingers. I fled from those pirates at the wharf, Jack, instead of waiting to offer you my most humble thanks. Will you accept them now? They come straight from the heart."
For such a reward as this Jack would have fought a dozen pirates. Baring his head, he murmured bashfully:
"A trifling service, Mistress Dorothy, and 'tis my devout hope that I may always be ready in time of need."
"So?" she exclaimed, with mischief in her eyes. "I believe you would slay a pirate each morning before breakfast, should I ask it."
"Or any other small favors like that," gallantly returned Jack.
"A proper courtier," cried Dorothy. "My father will thank you when he returns from North Carolina. When I ventured to the wharf this morning it was in hopes of sighting his armed sloop."