"Ye dirked poor Jesse Strawn and left him rotting in the swamp. I was a true and faithful seaman, Cap'n Teach."
A deeper voice boomed out, filling the hold with unearthly echoes:
"I am the shade of the master mariner whom ye did foully murder off Matanzas and there is no rest for me ten fathom down."
The apparitions flitted out of the shadow and were vaguely disclosed in the flickering glare from the brimstone pots. The smoke gave them a wavering aspect as though their shapes were unsubstantial. Blackbeard stood beholding them in a trance of horror. With an aimless finger he traced the sign of the cross and his pallid lips moved in the murmur:
"The ghost o' Jesse Strawn! For the love of God, forbear."
It was a petition as pious as ever Christian uttered. Forgotten was his wicked counterfeit of the nether region. Again the shrill voice wailed:
"Pity poor Jesse Strawn. I'll haunt ye by land and sea, Cap'n Teach. Swear by the Book to let that treasure chest lie at the bottom of the creek else I tear your sinful soul from your body."
The terrible Blackbeard was incapable of motion. Huskily he muttered:
"I'll ne'er seek the chest, good Jesse Strawn, an' it please you to pass me by."
The two spectres moved forward as the one of the deeper voice declaimed: