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Updated: June 17, 2025
"What do you suspect?" asked the Governor, who was a slow-witted man, broken down with fevers and port wine. "I suspect," said the soldier, "that it is Stede Bonnet over again."
In a little room at the back of a large, low storehouse, not far from the pier, sat Stede Bonnet and his faithful friend and servitor, Ben Greenway. The storehouse was crowded with goods of almost every imaginable description, and even the room back of it contained an overflow of bales, boxes, and barrels.
Thou art not cut out for a pirate, and as no other canst thou sail with me." Ben Greenway looked at him steadfastly. "Master Stede Bonnet," said he, "ye are no more fit to be a bloody pirate than I am. Ye oversee your plantation weel, although I hae often been persuaded that ye knew no' as much as ye think ye do.
"Willing as I be to die sooner than delay ye and so vex Stede Bonnet, it 'ud please me to live to overhaul that sea chest of Blackbeard's." "I'll stand by this condemned old relic," amiably agreed Bill Saxby. "Do you request Cap'n Bonnet to send a party to salvage us, Jack." "He will take pleasure in it, Bill.
You knowe, that in stede of twoo Romaine Legions, I have taken twoo maine battailes of footemen, of sixe thousande footemen, and three hundred horsemen, profitable for a maine battaile, and into what battailes, into what weapons, into what names I have devided theim: you knowe howe in orderyng tharmie to marche, and to faight, I have not made mencion of other men, but onely have shewed, how that doublyng the men, thei neded not but to double the orders: but mindyng at this presente, to shew you the maner of incampyng, me thinketh good not to stande onely with twoo maine battailes, but to bryng together a juste armie, made like unto the Romaines, of twoo maine battailes, and of as many more aidyng men: the whiche I make, to the intent that the forme of the incampyng, maie be the more perfect, by lodgyng a perfecte armie: whiche thyng in the other demonstracions, hath not semed unto me so necessarie.
The puzzled lads stared and stared and the hair stiffened on their scalps for sheer horror. These were not the boats from the Royal James. They were filled with Blackbeard's own pirates from the Revenge! The explanation was simple enough. Joe Hawkridge read it at a glance. Blackbeard was not the drunken chuckle-head that Stede Bonnet had assumed him to be.
He therefore read it that these unfortunates were some of Stede Bonnet's men who had been captured with the brig. They had been allowed to enlist and were being taught to respect their new master. Jack Cockrell had hugely admired young Joe for his ready wit and coolness in other crises of their mutual fortunes but now came a moment in which the astute sea urchin surpassed himself.
"And Stede Bonnet'll blithely furnish the men and gear. For a mere babe, Master Cockrell, ye leak wisdom like a colander. Our duty is to tarry no longer at this mad business." "The first sound word I've heard out of the old barnacle, eh, Jack?" said Bill Saxby. "We must be out of this swamp by night and layin' a course for Cap'n Bonnet and the Royal James."
"The wound is deep and ragged. Hold still," commanded Mr. Peter Forbes. "You have been a soldier, Captain Bonnet, commended for valor on the fields of Europe and holding the king's commission. Why not seek pardon and serve with the armed forces of this province? My services in the matter are yours to command." Stede Bonnet frowned and bit his lip.
On it he found one of the old retainers of the stede struggling up with a weighty iron pot, from which issued clouds of steam. "Let me pass, old Ivor; what hast thou there?" "Boiling water to warm them," gasped Ivor, "I knew we should want it ere long. Finn is gone to the loft above the south door with another pot."
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