When Edward Shirley stepped on board the big steamer which he had so earnestly and anxiously followed from Kingston, and was received by her captain, it did not take him long to form the opinion that Captain Hagar belonged to a disagreeable class of mariners. He was gruff, curt, and wanted to know in the shortest space of time why in the name of his Satanic Majesty he had been asked to lay to, and what message that yacht had for him.

Shirley asked for a private interview, and when they were in the Captain's room he put the whole matter into as few words as possible, showed the cablegram from Blackburn, and also exhibited his message from Captain Horn. The other scrutinized the papers very carefully, asked many questions, but made few remarks in regard to his own opinion or intentions.

When he had heard all that Shirley had to tell him, and had listened to some very earnest advice that he should immediately turn back to Kingston, or at least run into Georgetown, where he might safely lie in harbor until measures had been taken for the safe conveyance of the treasure to Peru, the Captain of the Dunkery Beacon arose, and asking Shirley to remain where he was until he should go and consult with his first mate, he went out, closing the door of the room behind him.

During this absence he did not see the first mate, but he went to a room where there was pen, ink, and paper, and there he wrote a note to Captain Burke of the Summer Shelter, which note, as soon as he had signed it, he gave to the men in the small boat waiting alongside, telling them that it was from their mate who had come on board, and that he wanted an answer just as soon as possible.

Mr. Burdette, Mr. Portman, and the assistant engineer having no reason whatever to suspect treachery under circumstances like these, immediately rowed back to the Summer Shelter. And, as we already know, it was not long before the Dunkery Beacon was steaming away from the yacht.

The moment that Shirley, who was getting a little tired of waiting, felt the movement of the engines, he sprang to the door, but found it locked. Now he began to kick, but in a very few moments the Captain appeared.

"You needn't make a row," said he. "Nobody's going to hurt you. I have sent a note to your skipper, telling him I'm going to keep you on board a little while until I can consider this matter. My duty to my owners wouldn't allow me to be a-layin' to here—but I'll think over the business and do what I consider right. But I've got to keep on my course—I've got no right to lose time whether this is all a piece of foolin' or not."

"There's no fooling about it," said Shirley, warmly. "If you don't turn back you will be very likely to lose a good deal more than time. You may lose everything on board, and your lives too, for all you know."

The Captain laughed. "Pirates!" said he. "What stuff! There are no pirates in these days!" and then he laughed again. "Well, I can't talk any more now," said he, "but I'll keep your business in my mind, and settle it pretty soon. Then you can go back and tell your people what I'll do. You had better go on deck and make yourself comfortable. If you'll take my advice, you won't do any talking. The people on this vessel don't know what she carries, and I don't want them to know! So if I see you talking to anybody, I'll consider that you want to make trouble—and I can tell you, if some of these people on board knew what was in them boxes in the hold, there would be the worst kind of trouble. You can bet your head on that! So you can go on and show yourself. Your friends won't be worried about you—I've explained it all to them in my note!"

When Shirley went on deck he was very much pleased to see that the Summer Shelter was not far away, and was steaming close after the larger vessel. He waved his hat, and then he turned to look about him. There seemed to be a good many men on the steamer, a very large crew, in fact; and after noticing the number of sailors who were at work not far away from him, Shirley came to the conclusion that there were more reasons than one why he would not hold conversation with them.

From their speech he thought that they must all be foreigners—French, or Italians, he could scarcely tell which. It did not seem to him that these belonged to the class of seamen which a careful captain of a British merchantman would wish to ship when carrying a cargo of treasure to a distant land, but then all sorts of crews were picked up in English ports. Her Captain, in fact, surprised Shirley more than did the seamen he had noticed. This Captain must, of course, be an Englishman, for the house of Blackburn Brothers would not be likely to trust one of their vessels, and such an important one, to the charge of any one but an Englishman. But he had a somewhat foreign look about him. His eyes and hair were very black, and there was a certain peculiarity in his pronunciation that made Shirley think at first that he might be a Welshman.

While Shirley was considering these matters, the Summer Shelter was rapidly gaining on the other steamer and was now alongside and within hailing distance, and Burke was on the bridge with a trumpet in his hand. At this moment Shirley was accosted by the Captain. "I've got something to say to you," said he; "step in my room. Perhaps we can give your friend an answer at once."

Shirley followed the other, the door was shut, and the Captain of the Dunkery Beacon began to tell how extremely injudicious it would be, in his opinion, to turn back, for if pirates really were following him,—although he did not believe a word of it,—he might run right into their teeth, whereas, by keeping on his course, he would most likely sail away from them, and when he reached Rio Janeiro, he could make arrangements there for some sort of a convoy, or whatever else was considered necessary.

"I'll go and hail my skipper," said Shirley, "if you'll let me have a speaking-trumpet."

"No," said the other, "I don't want you to do that. I don't mind tellin' you that I don't trust you. I've got very heavy responsibility on me, and I don't know who you are no more than if you was a porpoise come a-bouncin' up out of the sea. I don't want you and your skipper holdin' no conversation with each other until I've got this matter settled to my satisfaction, and then I can put you on board your vessel, and go ahead on my course, or I can turn back, just whichever I make up my mind to do. But until I make up my mind, I don't want no reports made from this vessel to any other, and no matter what you say when you are hailin', how do I know what you mean, and what sort of signals you've agreed on between you?"

Shirley was obliged to accept the situation, and when Burke had ceased to hail, he was allowed to go on deck. Then, after waving his hat to the yacht,—which was now at a considerable distance, although within easy range of a glass,—Shirley lighted his pipe, and walked up and down the deck. He saw a good many things to interest him; but he spoke to no one, and endeavored to assume the demeanor of one who was much interested in his own affairs, and very little in what was going on about him.

But Shirley noticed a great many things which made a deep impression upon him. The crew seemed to be composed of men not very well disciplined, but exceedingly talkative, and although Shirley did not understand French, he was now pretty sure that all the conversation he heard was in that tongue. Then, again, the men did not appear to be very well acquainted with the vessel—they frequently seemed to be looking for things, the position of which they should have known. He could not understand how men who had sailed on a vessel from Southampton should show such a spirit of inquiry in regard to the internal arrangements of the steamer. A boatswain, who was giving the orders to a number of men, seemed more as if he were instructing a class in the nautical management of a vessel than in giving the ordinary everyday orders which might be expected on such a voyage as this. Once he saw the Captain come on deck with a book in his hand, apparently a log-book, and he showed it to one of the mates. These two stood turning over the leaves of the book as if they had never seen it before, and wanted to find something which they supposed to be in it.

It was not long after this that Shirley said to himself that he could not understand how such a vessel, with such a cargo, could have been sent out from Southampton in charge of such a captain and such a crew as this. And then, almost immediately, the idea came to him in a flash that perhaps this was not the crew with which the Dunkery Beacon had sailed! Now he seemed to see the whole state of affairs as if it had been printed on paper. The Dunkery Beacon had been captured by one of the pirates, probably not long after she got outside the Caribbees, and that instead of trying to take the treasure on board their own vessel, the scoundrels had rid the Dunkery of her captain and crew, and had taken possession of the steamer and everything in it. This would explain her course when she was first sighted from the yacht. She was not going at all to Rio Janeiro—she was on her way across the Atlantic.

Now everything that he had seen, and everything that he had heard, confirmed this new belief. Of course the pirate Captain did not wish to lay to when he was first hailed, and he probably did so at last simply because he found he need not be afraid of the yacht, and that he could not rid himself of her unless he stopped to see what she wanted. Of course this fellow would not have him go back to the yacht and make a report. Of course this crew did not understand how things were placed and stored on board the vessel, for they themselves had been on board of her but a very short time. The Captain spoke English, but he was not an Englishman.

Shirley saw plainer and plainer every second that the Dunkery Beacon had been captured by pirates; that probably not a man of her former crew was on board, and that he was here a prisoner in the hands of these wretches—cut-throats for all he knew, and yet he did not reproach himself for having run into such a trap. He had done the proper thing, in a proper, orderly, and seamanlike way. He had had the most unexpected bad luck, but he did not in the least see any reason to blame himself.

He saw, however, a great deal of reason to fear for himself, especially as the evening drew on. That black-headed villain of a Captain did not want him on board, and while he might not care to toss him into the sea in view of a vessel which was fast enough to follow him wherever he might go, there was no reason why he should not do what he pleased, if, under cover of the night, he got away from that vessel.

The fact that he was allowed to go where he pleased, and see what he pleased, gave much uneasiness to Shirley. It looked to him as if they did not care what he might say, hear, or see, for the reason that it was not intended that he should have an opportunity of making reports of any sort. Shirley had his supper to himself, and the Captain showed him a bunk. "They can't do much talkin' to you," he said. "I had to sail ahead of time, and couldn't ship many Englishmen."

"You liar," thought Shirley, "you didn't ship any!"

Shirley was a brave man, but as he lay awake in his bunk that night, cold shivers ran down his back many times. If violence were offered to him, of course he could not make any defence, but he was resolved that if an attack should be made upon him, there was one thing he would try to do. He had carefully noted the location of the companion-ways, and he had taken off only such clothes as would interfere with swimming. If he were attacked, he would make a bolt for the upper deck, and then overboard. If the yacht should be near enough to hear or see him, he might have a chance. If not, he would prefer the ocean to the Dunkery Beacon and her crew.

But the night passed on, and he was not molested. He did not know, down there below decks, that all night the Summer Shelter kept so close to the Dunkery Beacon that the people in charge of the latter cursed and swore dreadfully at times when the yacht, looking bigger and blacker by night than she did by day, rose on the waves in their wake, so near that it seemed as if a sudden squall might drive the two vessels together.

But there was really no reason for any such fear. Burke had vowed he would stick to Shirley, and he also stuck to the wheel all night, with Burdette or the sailing-master by his side. And there was not an hour when somebody, either a mariner or a clergyman, did not scan the deck of the Dunkery Beacon with a marine glass.

Shirley was not allowed to go on deck until quite late the next morning, after Burke had given up his desperate attempt to communicate with the Dunkery Beacon; and when he did come up, and had assured himself at a glance that the Summer Shelter still hung upon the heels of the larger steamer, and had frantically waved his hat, the next thing he saw was the small Mediterranean steamer which was rapidly coming down from the north, while the Dunkery Beacon was steaming northeast. He also noticed that some men near him were running up a queer little flag or signal, colored irregularly red and yellow, and then he saw upon the approaching steamer a bit of bunting which seemed to resemble the one now floating from the Dunkery. Of course, under the circumstances, there was nothing for him to believe but that this approaching vessel was one of the pirate ships, and that she was coming down not to capture the Dunkery Beacon, but to join her.

Now matters were getting to be worse and worse, and as Shirley glanced over at the yacht,—still hovering on the weather quarter of the Dunkery, ready at any time to swoop down and hail her if there should be occasion,—he trembled for the fate of his friends. To be sure these two pirate vessels—for sure the Dunkery Beacon now belonged to that class—were nothing but merchantmen. There was no cannon on this steamer, and as the other was now near enough for him to see her decks as she rolled to windward, there was no reason to suppose that she carried guns. If these rascals wished to attack or capture a vessel, they must board her, but before they could do that they must catch her, and he knew well enough that there were few ordinary steamers which could overhaul the Summer Shelter. If it were not for his own most unfortunate position, the yacht could steam away in safety and leave these wretches to their own devices, but he did not believe that his old friend would desert him. More than that, there was no reason to suppose that the people on the Summer Shelter knew that the Dunkery Beacon was now manned by pirates, although it was likely that they would suspect the character of the new-comer.

But Shirley could only stand, and watch, and wait. Once he thought that it might be well for him to jump overboard and strike out to the yacht. If he should be seen by his friends—and this he believed would happen—and if he should be picked up, his report would turn back into safer waters this peaceful pleasure vessel, with its two ladies and its seven clergymen. If he should be struck by a ball in the back of the head before he got out of gunshot of the Dunkery's crew, then his friends would most likely see him sink, the reason for their remaining in the vicinity of these pirates would be at an end, and they might steam northward as fast as they pleased.

The strange vessel came on and on, and soon showed herself to be a steamer of about nine hundred tons, of a model with which Shirley was not familiar, and a great many men on board. The Dunkery Beacon lay to, and it was not long before this stranger had followed her example, and had lowered a boat. When three or four men from this boat had scrambled to the deck of the Dunkery Beacon, they were gladly welcomed by the black-headed fellow who had passed himself off as Captain Hagar, and a most animated conversation now took place. Shirley could not understand anything that was said, and he had sense enough not to appear to be trying to do so; but no one paid any attention to him, nor seemed to care whether he knew what was going on or not.

At first the manner of the speakers indicated that they were wildly congratulating each other, but very soon it was evident that the Summer Shelter was the subject of their discourse. They all looked over at the yacht, some of them even shook their fists at her, and although Shirley did not understand their language, he knew very well that curses, loud and savage, were pouring over the bulwarks in the direction of his friends and their yacht.

Then the subject of the conference changed. The fellows began to gaze northward, a glass was turned in that direction, the exclamations became more violent than before, and when Shirley turned, he saw for the first time the other vessel which was coming down from the north. This was now far away, but she was heading south, and it could not be long before she would arrive on the scene.

Now Shirley's heart sank about as far down as it would go. He had no doubt that this very vessel was another of the pirates. If she carried a gun, even if it were not a heavy one, he might as well bid good-bye to the Summer Shelter. The pirates would not allow her to go to any port to tell her tale.

The noisy conference now broke up. The boat with its crew returned to the other vessel, which almost immediately started, turned, and steamed away to the north, in the direction of the approaching steamer. This settled the matter. She was off to join her pirate consort. Now the Dunkery Beacon started her engines, and steamed slowly in the direction of the yacht, as if she wished to hail her. Shirley's heart rose a little. If there was to be a parley, perhaps the pirates had decided to warn the yacht to stop meddling, and to take herself away, and if, by any happy fortune, it should be decided to send him to his friends, he would implore them, with all his heart and soul, to take the advice without the loss of a second.