"I was in hopes of hearing news of the lads from you," sorrowfully said the shipmaster. "There is the chance, tiny though it be, that they were sighted by some vessel bound to foreign parts, across the Western Ocean."
The uncle shook his head in a manner profoundly dejected. There were duties which summoned him and he choked down his own grief, turning from the sympathetic mariner to minister to those in distress. Horse litters were soon ready for the exhausted but heroic women who had been kept alive by the devotion of the noble British seamen in accordance with the traditions of the merchant service. Those unable to walk farther were placed in carts. Clothed and fed, the sailors were in blithe spirits and talked of going to sea again as soon as they could find a ship.
In the crowd which met them on the outskirts of the Charles Town settlement was Dorothy Stuart. She scanned the straggling column and then ran from one cart to another. It was impossible to convince her that Jack Cockrell was not there. But when she heard from Uncle Peter the news that Jack was missing but not surely dead, her faith burned anew, triumphant over fact and reason.
"See how the great storm came to save him from Blackbeard," she cried, her hand nestling in Uncle Peter's arm. "And look how he came unscathed through that bloody battle with the pirates in the Plymouth Adventure. Why, a cruise on a raft is merely a frolic after all that."
"I would not discourage your dear dreams, sweet maid," was the gentle response. "And may they be truer than my own forebodings."
Charles Town was more than ever resentful when it learned from these poor people how the pirate sailing-master, Ned Rackham, had plotted to get rid of them and how mournful had been their sufferings after the shipwreck. The one boat left to them had been too rotten to send along the coast and they had plunged into a wilderness almost impassable.
Meanwhile Governor Johnson, stirred by this episode, had received word that the province of Virginia was both ready and anxious to join in an expedition against Blackbeard. Governor Spottswood of Virginia would be outfitting such craft as he could get together in the James River while he awaited a reinforcement from Charles Town.
The best vessel available for immediate use was a small brigantine, the King George. There was no lack of eager seamen when Councilor Forbes and Colonel Stuart proclaimed the muster on the tavern green. Among those selected were several of Captain Jonathan Wellsby's sailors who were primed to fight even though there was not much flesh on their bones. He himself was a forlorn mariner who had lost his good ship and found no joy in life. With a grim smile of gratitude he accepted the invitation to go as master of the King George, with Colonel Stuart as a sea soldier to drill the men and lead them in action.
It was while they were slinging guns aboard the brigantine that some of the men happened to notice a small boat coming into the harbor under a rag of sail. At first it was taken for a fishing craft and there was no comment until it was quite close. Then they saw that it was a ship's jolly-boat much the worse for wear, with only two occupants. These were half-naked lads, burned black to the waist, with a queer kind of canvas head-gear as a protection against the sun.
The boat was steered to pass under the stern of the King George and the crew was unable to fathom if these were pirates or victims of another shipwreck. Captain Wellsby solved it by shouting: