"Captain Bonnet does honor to the trade of piracy," cried the admiring Jack, at which his uncle declared, with a wrathful gesture:
"I must remove this daft lad to England to be rid of you, Stede Bonnet. You have cast a wicked spell over him."
"To England?" said the pirate, with a sympathetic glance at the boy. "I would sooner lie in gaol."
"And reap your deserts," snapped Uncle Peter.
"No doubt of that," frankly agreed the pirate. "And what thinks the lad of this sad penance?"
"I hate it," was Jack's swift answer. "Will you grant our merchant ship safe conduct, Captain Bonnet?"
"What ship, boy? You have only to name her. She will go scathless, as far as in my power."
"The Plymouth Adventure," replied Jack. "It would ruin my uncle's temper beyond all mending to be taken by pirates."
"I pledge you my word," swore Stede Bonnet. "Moreover, if trouble befall you by sea or land, Master Cockrell, I pray you send me tidings and you will have a friend in need."
That night those who dwelt near the harbor heard the clank of a windlass as the crew of the Royal James hove the cable short, and the melodious, deep-throated refrain of a farewell chantey floated across the quiet water. With the flood of the tide and a landward breeze, the brig stole out across the bar while the topsails were sheeted home. When daylight dawned, she had vanished in the empty reaches of the Atlantic.