Within the house, while the negotiations were in progress, there had been the trembling fear of the women, and the grave concern of the men. Marbury had told no one what he proposed to do, but, as the one controlling consideration was for the women, none cared so long as they were saved.

"This pirate appears to be a well-mannered rogue," Constable remarked, peering through the hole in his shutter, "with all the airs of a gentleman, even to taking snuff in the most approved fashion. I cannot, however, say as much for his two followers—they are the scum of the docks."

"You put it mildly," said Parkington; "I should have said the scum of hell, even at long distance."

"I accept your modification, and may we never see them any closer."

"Amen, with all my heart!"

There was silence for a while, then Constable spoke again.

"They seem to be having a most amiable conversation," he observed. "Marbury will be bringing him in to breakfast, presently!... Look at the pirate, Parkington, he acts like a gentleman, he dresses like a gentleman, damn it! He must have been a gentleman, once!"

No answer from Sir Edward.

"Such a bowing, back and forth.—Lord! you would think they were dancing the minuet!"

No answer.

"And such a sword! It sticks out a foot farther behind his coat than is the fashion."

No answer.

"I say, Parkington, are you deaf or asleep?"

"I beg your pardon—what did you say—am I deaf or asleep? Neither, I trust."

"I have made three separate remarks to you, hence my inquiry."

"Repeat," said Parkington, over his shoulder, his eyes on the scene outside; "I am all attention."

"The last was as to the extraordinary length of the pirate's sword."

"Yes—I think this must be he," replied Parkington.

"What?" said Constable. "Must be he—what the devil do you mean?"

"I heard tales, in London, recently, of a famous buccaneer of these seas named Long-Sword," explained Parkington. "I think——"

"Great God! it is he, or I'm a sailor!" exclaimed Constable. "Do not let the women know."

Sir Edward smiled. "No! no!—As to that, however, a pirate is a pirate, the world over—there is little to choose between them."

"But Long-Sword has nothing in his favor—he is the cruelest, most rapacious pirate afloat."

"Or ashore," Parkington amended. "Ah! the council has ended—the pirate waits. Marbury has been successful."

When Marbury entered, the women crowded around him, but the men remained at their post, taking no chances.

"There will be no fight.—Silence! would you spoil everything?" he demanded. "They must not know there are women here." Instantly the glad cries were hushed. "My womenfolk are in Annapolis," he went on. "The pirate chief has consented to retire. Judith, will you gather together all our silver—not the Hedgely silver, just our own—and tie it up in a sheet, or two sheets, if necessary."

"Surely, Mr. Marbury, this is not the entire ransom?" said Mrs. Plater.

"A little matter of a few gold pieces—no, not a pistole from my guests, madame—I have the necessary cash."

"We will reimburse you——"

He shook his head.

"Why should you pay for us?" she demanded, as Marbury detached himself from the group and made for the stairs.

"Because it is my pleasure," he said, and hurried away to his room.

When he returned, with two bags in which were the twelve hundred sovereigns, the silver was in a pile on the floor of the dining-room. Platters and candelabra, spoons and trays had been thrown into an indiscriminate heap, and bound up in a great table-cloth.

"Sam—here!" he said to a negro servant, and pointed to the silver. "Carry it behind me."

Sam's teeth were chattering, and his face took on the peculiar shade which goes with the negro's fear, but discipline prevailed, and he took up the bundle and followed his master, though quaking in every muscle.

Long-Sword was pacing slowly back and forth, his hands behind his back, his head upon his breast. As Marbury approached, he looked up and smiled pleasantly.

"It is a queer trade, monsieur, this of a pirate," he said. "Always over a volcano—never knowing peace and quiet—every man's hand against you, and yours against every man. You may not believe me, but I like it not."

"IT IS A QUEER TRADE, MONSIEUR, THIS OF A PIRATE," HE SAID.

"Then why do you follow it?" asked Marbury, handing over the gold, and motioning for the slave to put down the silver.

"Force of circumstances, drove me to it," counting the sovereigns.

"Which is the same thing as natural inclination," Marbury replied.

"You mean, that circumstances force one only where one wants to go?"

"Exactly!"

"And therefore that I am a pirate from choice?"

"Certainly!"

"Are you paying me this gold from choice, or from force of circumstances?"

"I, most assuredly, am not paying from choice."

"Neither am I a pirate from choice, monsieur. But, being one, I believe in being a good one."

"Which means, that you are a particularly bad one."

Long-Sword laughed. "You have no evidence of it, monsieur. Surely, I was not rapacious in my terms to you!—There are four sovereigns too many——"

"I know," said Marbury. "I gave you all the gold I had."

The pirate gravely returned them.

"It was to be twelve hundred, no more. This is the silver?" pointing to the bundle in white. "Very good—my men shall be immediately withdrawn. Monsieur, I have the honor to salute you, and to bid you farewell," and he bared his head and bowed low.

Then he put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly. Instantly, those of his crew in the rear of the house, marched down and joined the main body. A motion brought his two lieutenants forward—he gave one the gold, the other the silver, and they started toward their ship. He, himself, paused a moment to pluck a rose and admire it, before fastening it in his coat; then he turned, and, again gravely saluting Marbury, who had retired to the doorway, followed after his men.

"May the devil take you!" Marbury muttered.

"And may he take him soon!" said Constable from his window. "Shall we call off the defenders?"

"Yes—I think so; but, to make sure, I will slip down and see them sail away. Keep a sharp lookout until I return. In the meantime, let all the horses be saddled and brought around—the women can escape, then, if necessary."

"Let me go with you," said Parkington.

They had gone but a short distance, when there came, from the direction of the river, a faint yell, followed by another and another, and yet another.

"Now, what is the matter?" said Parkington pausing. "Are they coming back?"

"God knows!" exclaimed Marbury, pausing also.

"And as He will not tell," remarked Parkington, after a wait, during which no further sounds came, "we shall have to find out for ourselves."

Under cover of the trees and bushes, which lined the driveway, they gained, at length, sight of the landing. Then, the reason for the cries was evident:—the pirates had lost their ship.

It was anchored farther down stream than they had left it, and beside it lay another vessel, which Marbury recognized as one of his own ships, The Whip, overdue from London. Not a man was visible on either, and, except for the Royal George idly flapping in the morning breeze, there appeared to be absolute quiet aboard—save only that the two rogues, who had been left in charge, were swinging by their necks from the yard-arm.

The pirates were gathered in animated discussion—their first rage had quieted into sullenness. Their four boats still lay at the landing—quite sufficient to get them back to the ship in detachments, but scarcely enough for an attacking party. Long-Sword was standing apart from the others, trying to make out what force was against them. Manifestly, if he wanted to regain his ship, the thing was to go and take it—and, at length, he gave the order to attack. How admirable his discipline, was shown by their waiting for the word.

One by one, he designated the men who should go, calling them by name, until the boats could hold no more. Then he stepped aboard the nearest, and took the tiller.

"Give way!" he ordered—"and keep well apart."

It was the signal to the ships, also. Instantly, they came to life—and the two Long-Toms of the pirate, and the one on The Whip, were trained on the boats. The buccaneers set up a shout, and bent to their oars. The more uncertain the target, the more chance there was for a miss. A quarter the distance was covered ... half the distance....

"Please God, they do not fail!" said Marbury, breathlessly.

"Why don't they shoot!" cried Parkington. "Why don't——"

Crash! the one Long-Tom spoke.

"Hit!" shouted Marbury. "Hit!"

Crash! went the other Long-Tom.

"Two!" cried Parkington, as the boat disappeared in a cloud of water.

Crash, went The Whip's gun.

"Three!" cried both together.

The river was filled with the debris—with dead and dying pirates. Of the three boat loads, not half a dozen were sufficiently uninjured to be dangerous—and they were in deep water, with all they could do to care for themselves.

One boat remained—Long-Sword's boat. The ships could not reload the guns in time to reach it—they must sink it when it swung alongside, or meet the crew as they came up the ropes.

It was close distance, now. Long-Sword, transferring the tiller to his left hand, drew his pistol and fired quickly. A sailor threw up his arms and fell. He seized a fresh pistol, from the man nearest, and fired a second time, knocking the cutlass from another's hand. Again, he cut the bulwark at another's head. Then the rail hid them. The next moment, they shot in alongside.

Before they could seize the ropes, however, a man reared himself upright, just above them, bearing in his arms a huge water cask, and flung it down into the boat.—And the boat disappeared, as if by magic, leaving its cargo of wounded and uninjured struggling in the water.

"Bravo! Jamison! bravo!" exclaimed Marbury. "You get a quarter's salary for that throw. Marry, how they struggle!"

"Look at Long-Sword!" said Parkington. "See, he is up the rope, hand over hand!... he makes the rail!... he is aboard!... his rapier is out!... he spits one!... he spits another!... My God! did you see it! struck from behind!—he is down! he is down!"

The fall of their leader ended the fight. The Coward and One-Eye had gone down with the boats—the former with his neck broken, the latter with his legs shot away. There was none to lead the few that had remained on shore, or who managed to save themselves from the river. Their one thought, now, was flight.—But where to flee!

Boom!

A ball from one of the vessels scattered the water at their very feet. They cut and ran for cover, leaving the wounded to follow, as best they might.

And Marbury and Parkington, brought to a sudden realization of their own danger, turned and made for the house, at full speed.

"Where are the women?" was Marbury's first question, as they dashed in.

"Gone!—they are safe at Maynadier's, by this time," said Constable.

"Good!—we may have to fight for it."

"What has happened?" asked Herford.

"Enough!" answered Parkington.—"The pirate ship was captured while undefended, by one of Mr. Marbury's schooners, which had just come in. They tried to regain it—their boats were sunk—almost all on board were killed—their leader is dead or a prisoner—the rest are bound, this way, seeking to escape.—Here they come! Now for it."

The pirates were marching rapidly up the drive—about fifty of them. They seemed to have decided, already, what and how, for, at about two hundred yards, they separated into three detachments. One of these remained in front, another, of an equal number, passed around to the right, and the third, containing the remainder, made for the left of the house and the rear.

"They are going to rush us on all four sides at the same time," said Marbury. "Be ready!"

There was not long to wait. The moment the rear detachment was in place, a shrill whistle rang out, and, with an exultant yell, the pirates flung themselves forward.

They were met by a fusillade from the windows, that thinned their ranks, somewhat, but did not stop the onslaught. Before the defenders could change guns, they were close against the house, and, so, safe for the time. But it gave them no entrance—they were practically as far from the inside as ever.

A wounded pirate, out in front, waved his hand feebly and called to his fellows for aid; another struggled to his feet, staggered a few steps and plunged down in a heap; one crawled on hands and knees to the shade of a nearby tree, propped himself against it, and there died, cursing God, man and the devil; others lay where they had fallen, their buccaneering over. The Jolly Roger would fly no more for them.

But their comrades heeded them not. They were of no value, further, could bear no part in the strife. They were as useless impedimenta as the dead, so they left them to die.

Suddenly, a chopping noise began immediately under the front of the house. Marbury listened an instant, then sprang for the stairs.

"The cellar windows!" he shouted. "A man from each room follow me."

These windows, of which there were four, two in front and two in rear, were protected by iron bars set into the stone foundation, and scarcely three inches apart. No one could squeeze through, unless two of them were ripped out. And that was what the pirates were trying to do, protected by their proximity to the house, and finding that the windows were not defended.

But the bars were staunch, and, when Marbury gained the cellar, they had not been sprung. He threw up his pistol, and one of the assailants went down. The others instantly drew back out of sight.

"Ha! ha!" laughed Parkington; "what is the next move?"

A crash of glass answered him from the other cellar; the next moment, four pirates were in and upon them. Parkington drew his blade and took the first one, Constable the second, and Herford the third; the fourth made for Marbury, who was without his sword, and with nothing but an empty pistol to defend himself.

With a shout, the pirate leaped upon him, to be met by the empty weapon, hurled in his face with all the strength Marbury possessed. The man flung up an arm and broke the blow, somewhat, but it still struck him hard enough to cover his face with blood, and to send him staggering back against the wall. Before he had recovered, Marbury sprang across the cellar, and, seizing an axe from the corner, returned to the attack.

The pirate dashed the blood away and met him with a sweeping blow of his cutlass. Marbury caught it on the handle of the axe and turned it aside. Again the cutlass swung, and again the axe brushed it away, and again, and yet again. A fifth time, the cutlass swept around, aimed at the head, which, with an axe, is the most difficult to protect. Marbury had just time to spring back, the point ripping the stock at his neck, and cutting the buckle asunder. The next instant, ere he could recover, Marbury whirled his weapon aloft and brought it down with all his force, shearing away the guard, which the pirate raised to meet it, like a willow wand and sinking deep into his neck. The man dropped. Marbury jerked out the axe, and turned to help the others.

He found Herford hard put to hold his own. He had been wounded slightly in the arm, and was beginning to breathe heavily. Without ado, Marbury stepped behind the pirate, and felled him with a blow on the head.

At the same time, Constable passed his sword through his antagonist, and, as the man fell, he whipped it out again, and turned to assist Parkington. But the latter raised his hand in protest.

"I will kill him in a moment," he said. "Pray, indulge me—— Ah, my friend—you do not know the double coup.... So, take it!" and the man died, with the sword in his throat.

"Four!" muttered Marbury.

"Five! with the man you shot," corrected Parkington.

Suddenly, there arose a great thumping at the rear, accompanied with shots and curses and imprecations. Marbury and the others sprang up the stairway, to find Snowden and the rest engaged in repelling a desperate onslaught on the rear door.

While the fight was going on in the cellar, the assailants had mustered all their strength in the rear, to make one determined effort to gain admission. Four men were sent to the wood-house for a log. They were not disturbed by the defenders, who were not wasting bullets on the departing. Another contingent followed, and were likewise undisturbed. The rest gathered close along the side of the house and waited, secure from those within. Then, of a sudden, the men emerged with the log, and hurried across the open with it. Some of them fell under the fire of the besieged, but not enough to hinder, and, before they received a second volley, they had the log safe before the house. Their first assault had been ineffectual, they were mustering, now, for a second.

To get a proper swing, it was necessary to go back a little way from the door; the moment they did so, they came into range of the rifles at the nearest windows. Four pirates went down before their fire—but the rest, with the log swung from their shoulders, dashed forward and hurled it against the door.

It split the frame and shattered it, but did not drive it from the hinges, nor loosen the lock.

"A good door!" said Parkington. "But will it stand another?"

"We shall soon see," answered Constable.

Again the pirates bore back—again, the rifles cracked and four of them went down—again, there was a crash—the splinters flew, the hinges rattled, the lock sprang inward, bent and twisted, but the door still held.

"It will not stand another," said Parkington, drawing his sword. "Be prepared."

This time, however, the assailants did not go back. They simply lifted the log and sent it against the lock. And the door yielded, though slowly and reluctantly, dragging backward on its battered hinges, so that the foremost pirates had to fling themselves forward to its aid.

Whereby, the nearest met his death, for Parkington saw, and quickly passed his sword through the man's heart, the body tumbling across the entrance. The other saved himself by a leap back—but the door was open, now.

With a rush, the pirates came—to be met by a volley of bullets that, in the mass of men, had deadly effect. They stopped—wavered—and then Parkington and Constable were at them, their rapiers flashing as they sent them home.

"Ha! ha!" laughed the former, as he spitted his man in the jugular, so that the blood jetted forth in a great stream. "I would not have missed this sport for a hundred guineas.—Ha! that is it, is it?—well, accept this in exchange, my friend.... What, going! and so soon! Au revoir, messieurs! my heart goes with you—au revoir.... Mr. Constable, my compliments on your sword-play, it was most expert. True, they were but pirates, but some of them were not to be despised." And with a formal salute, he ran his weapon back into its sheath.

The pirates were going; panic had seized them, and they were in full retreat—a dozen or so in number, caring for nothing so much as to escape. They wanted no more of the house that had been their misfortune—that had seemed so easy and, yet, in truth, was so hard. They wanted to get away—in the unreasoning fear that held them, mad flight alone spelled safety. And they went, scurrying across the lawn and through the park, as though the Devil and all his battalions were riding in their wake.

"Terror drives—all else is forgotten," said Constable.

"We can be thankful for the terror," observed Parkington; "it saved us, I fancy; we should not have had a chance had they been properly led."

"We played in rare good luck," said Snowden. "Fifty pirates! and only a flesh wound in the arm, and a shattered door to pay the bill. Oh! what luck!"

"I am the only hero among you!" laughed Herford. "How does it happen, Parkington, that you let me get away with the wound?"

"When it comes to that," was the ready answer, "you are welcome to the honor,—if honor there be in letting a pirate stick you. I choose the whole hide rather than the hole."

"Come, gentlemen, let us inspect the casualties," said Marbury, and led the way out to the rear.

A dozen bodies lay on the grass and around the doorway—they had fallen in their tracks, proof of the deadly shooting of the defenders. Marbury turned them, one by one, with his foot, to make sure that they would buccaneer no more. The last one groaned, made a faint move to arise, and, then, seeing who prodded him, drew his dagger and plunged it into his heart.

"Wise man!" said Marbury. "He saves himself a tiresome imprisonment and an awful death."

On the other side of the house, there were both dead and wounded, the former, however, being much in the majority. Of the latter, two were maimed and helpless, and Marbury contented himself with directing the blacks to carry them into the nearest outhouse and give them drink. He would come presently, and see to their hurts. Another, blinded in both eyes by a bullet, was wandering around half crazed by the pain, and imploring some one to kill him. He had lost his dagger and was without weapon. Marbury looked at him a moment, considering—then, went to him.

"Here is what you want," he said. "Make an end."

The distracted wretch reached out wildly, seized the pistol, that Marbury put into his hand, and instantly sent the ball into his brain.

"Dig a trench back of the park and bury them," Marbury directed, when they had viewed the last, and turned back to the house. And the blacks, straightway, began to do as they were commanded.

"Here endeth the reading of the lesson!" commented Parkington.

"And may the next one be forever postponed," added Plater.

"Amen!" said the rest, speaking as one man.

"It is a pity, now, the ladies were put to the bother of riding away," Parkington reflected.

The others stared at him and were silent, except Herford, who gave a little, scornful laugh.

"I think they would have enjoyed the outcome," Parkington went on; "and then, it would have given Captain Herford the opportunity to pose as a hero, in ipso actu."

"Captain Herford can take care of himself—" he began.

"As you have shown us, my dear Captain, as you have shown us!" said Parkington.

At which Herford scowled, then passed it by with a laugh.

They went into the house, and opened the shutters. Everything was calm and peaceful, as of yesterday. Save that the furniture was somewhat disarranged, no one would have imagined what a strenuous morning had been theirs. The table was spread for breakfast—the breakfast itself had been ready to serve. Marbury remembered that none of them had eaten, and it was now near noon. He turned to his guests.

"Gentlemen," he said, with a wave of his hand toward the ready fare, "let us fall to. Joshua, serve the meal—but first, I think, we all need a drink." He motioned toward the side-board, where the decanters glistened. "Help yourselves."

Parkington filled his glass, and held it up.

"Messieurs," he said, "it is not the time usually devoted to toasts, but, nevertheless, I give you: 'The ladies, may they be in safety now, and soon return to us.'"