“‘There is no such thing as luck, Mr. Sterling,’ said the captain in his quiet, grave way. ‘All is the doings of Providence.’
“Then he turned and moved away, but Sterling was at his side in a minute.
“‘There’s a sail off there to windward, sir. Will you take a look at her and tell us what you think of her? You know it pays to be suspicious in these waters, and I don’t much like her looks.’
“In his usual serious manner the skipper took the glass and gazed through it at the brigantine, which, to my eye, was sailing two feet to our one, and overhauling us fast. He gazed at her a long time and when he set the glass down his face was working curiously. He clapped his hand to his forehead as if something there hurt him.
“‘I—I—There’s something strangely familiar about that craft, Mr. Sterling,’ says he, ‘but, for the life of me, I can’t tell what it is.’
“‘Looks to me like a man-o’-war of some sort, sir,’ says Sterling.
“He took up the glass again and scrutinized the stranger. Then I saw the color begin to die out of his red, good-natured face till it grew white as a corpse.
“‘It’s an armed vessel, sir,’ he grated out through his clenched teeth, ‘and—and she’s just broken out the Black Flag,—the skull and cross bones, sir!’
“‘A pirate, eh?’ said Munson quietly, and I noticed the same curious expression pass across his face. It was the strained look of a man trying to recall something that eludes him persistently. ‘Well, Mr. Sterling, she’s faster than us. We must fight for it, sir,’ he said at length.
“‘Aye, sir,’ says Sterling gravely, ‘I’ll call the men aft and explain to them. Andrews, my lad, you attend to distributing the weapons.’