Of a Sunday morning he went to the little English church, dressed in his best and using a cane, for he limped from the wound in his thigh. Joe Hawkridge walked with him, careful to banish his grin, and sat in the Councilor's pew where he paid proper attention to the prayers and responses. This caused some gossip but the ocean waif was winning his way to favor by dint of industry, a shrewd wit, and his perennial good humor.
Frequently they escorted fair Dorothy Stuart home from church. She was fonder than ever of stalwart Master Cockrell because the colonel had told her he would have been a dead man had not the lad intervened to save him from the stroke of a negro pirate. Alas, however, it was not that sentimental devotion for which the lovelorn Jack yearned, and he confided to Joe that his existence was blighted. This evoked no sympathy from the fickle Hawkridge, who was forgetting his black-eyed lass in the Azores and was already a slave to Dorothy Stuart. She laughed at them both and was their true friend, tender, and whimsical and anxious for their welfare. It was a valuable chapter in their education.
One morning while Joe was at work in the warehouse near the harbor, he heard a commotion in the street and was about to run out when his employer came in and explained:
"Two pirates captured,—just as I happened to pass. The knaves landed from a boat in broad daylight, unaware that Charles Town has mended its loose habit toward such gentry."
"What will be done with 'em?" quickly asked Joe, with an unhappy premonition.
"They were recognized as two of Stede Bonnet's old hands that used to resort to the tavern. Soldiers of the Governor's guard have been sent for to drag them to the gaol."
Joe hastened out but slackened his pace to lag behind the crowd of idlers who were jostling the prisoners along with hoots and jeers. Yes, there was the tall, gaunt frame and gray head of old Trimble Rogers whose mien was so forbidding and masterful that the mob forbore to handle him too roughly, unarmed though he was. At his elbow trudged chubby Bill Saxby, gazing about him with those wide blue eyes in which was not a trace of guile. Joe realized that for him to intercede would make matters worse. He was a reformed pirate on probation and was known to have sailed with Blackbeard himself.
Therefore he darted into another street and sped to find Jack Cockrell, who chanced to be at home. They rushed into the room where Uncle Peter Forbes was writing at his desk and informed him that their two staunch comrades had come ashore to find them and were already in custody and something must be done to save them from the wrath of Governor Johnson, who had a mortal distaste for pirates still at large. The Councilor calmed the perturbation by assuring them:
"I have already spoken to His Excellency in behalf of these two men should they appear in this port. He was not wholly pleased but promised clemency should they offer to repent and if I gave surety for the pledge."
"They will be ready to live as respectable as Joe," impetuously declared Master Cockrell. "I'll go bail on it. Bill Saxby is a tradesman by nature and if you will lend him enough money to set himself up as a linen-draper and haberdasher, Uncle Peter, he can live happily ever after."