The Pirates by Morgan Robertson

Prologue of the Pirates. This is a librifox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, are a volunteer, please visit librifox dot org. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey. The Pirates by Morgan Robertson prologue. Two young men met in front of the post office of a small country town. They were of the same age, eighteen.

Each was well dressed, comely, and apparently of good family, and each had an expression of face that would commend him to strangers, save that one of them, the larger of the two, had what is called a bad eye, that is, an eye showing just a little too much white above the iris, in the other's white predominated below the iris. The former is usually the index of violent, though restrained temper, the ladder of intuitive

psychic disposition with very little self control. The difference in characters so indicated may lead one person to the presidency, another to the gallows, and no such results are promised. With similar divergence of path of pain and pleasure, of punishment and reward is this story concern The two boys were schoolmates and friends, with never a quarrel, since they had known each other they had graduated together

from the high school, but neither had been validatorian. They later sought the competitive examination given by the congressman of the district for an appointment to the Naval account. To me, I had one out overall, but so close together that the congressman had decreed another test. They had taken it, and since

then had waited for the letter that named the winner. Hence the daily visits to the post office, ending in this one with a larger boy about to go up the steps met the smaller coming down with an open letter and smiling. I've got it, Jack, said the smaller boy, joyously. Here it is I win, but of course you're the alternate. Read it. He handed the letter to Jack, but it was declined. What's the use

was the somewhat sulky response. I've lost, sure enough. All I've got to do is to forget it. Then let me read it to you, said the winner eagerly. I want you to feel glad about it, same

as I would if you had passed first. Listen, mister William Denman, Dear sir, I am glad to inform you that you have successfully passed the second examination for an appointment to the Naval Academy, winning by three points in history over the other contestant, mister John Forsyth, who, of course, is the alternating In case you do not pass the entrance examination at Annapolis, be ready at any time for instructions from the Secretary of the Navy to report

an Annapolis. Sincerely, yours, Jacob Blain. What do I care for that, said Forsyth. I suppose I've got a letter in there too. Let's see, Walt demon waited. Forsyth entered the post office and soon emerged reading a letter, same thing. He said. I failed by three points in my special study. How is it, Bill, he demanded fiercely, as his disappointment grew upon him. I've beaten not only you, but the whole class from the primary up in history, ancient, modern and local.

Until now there's something crooked here. His voice sank to a mutter. Crooked, Jack, What are you talking about, replied Denman hotly. I don't know, Bill, Never mind, Come on, if you're going home. They walked side by side the direction of their homes, near together and on the outskirts of the town, each busy with his thoughts. Denman little proud

and joyous over the prize he had won. Was he yet hurt by the speech and manner of Forsyth, and hurt still further by the darkening cloud in his face as they walked on. Forsyth's thoughts were best indicated by his suddenly turning toward Denman and blurting out, yes, I say there's something crooked in this. I could beat you in history any day in the week, but your dad and old Bland are close friends. I see it now. Denman turned white as he answered, do you want me to report your opinion to

my father and mister Bland? Oh? You would, wouldn't you? And take from me the alternate two? Well, you're a cur bill Denman, go ahead and report. They were now on a block bounded by vic and Lotts, and no one was within sight. Denman stopped, threw off his coat and said, no, I'll not report your opinion, but you square yourself, Jack Forsythe, and I'll show you the kind of cur I am. Forsythe turned saw the anger in Denman's eyes and promptly shed his coat.

It was a short fight of one round, only each one courageously and with such fistic skills as schoolboys acquire, and each was equal to the other in strength, but one possessed about an inch longer reach than the other, which decided the battle. Denman, with nose bleeding and both eyes closing, went down at last and could not arise, not even see the necessity of rising.

But soon his brain cleared, and he staggered to his feet, his head throbbing viciously, and his face and clothing smeared with blood from his nose. To see between puffed eyelids, the erect figure of forsythe swaggering around a distant corner. He staunched a blow with his handkerchief, but as there was not a brook, a ditch, or a puddle in the neighborhood, he could only go home, as he was trusting that he would meet no one licked. He muttered, for the first time in my life too, what

do the old gentleman and mother say? What the father and mother might say, or what they did say, has no part in this story. But what another person said may have a place in value and will be given here. This person was the only one he met before we reached home, A very small person about thirteen years old, with big gray eyes and long dark ringlets, who ran across the street to look at him. Why, Billy Denmon, she cried, shocked and anxious, What has happened to you?

Run over? No florry, he answered painfully, I've been licked. I had a fight. But don't you know what's wrong to fight? Billy maybe, answered Denman, trying to get more blood from his face to the already saturated handkerchief. But we all do wrong sometimes. The child planted herself directly before him and looked chartingly into his discolored and disfigured face. Billy Demon,

she said, shaking a small finger at him. Of course, I'm sorry, But if you've been fighting, when you know what is wrong, why why it served you right? Had he not been aching in every joint, his nose, his lips, and his eyes, this unjust speech might have amused him. As it was, he answered testily, Florence Fleming. You're only a kid yet, though, the best one I know. And if I should tell you the name I was called which brought on the fight,

you would not understand. But you'll grow up some day and then you will understand. Now, remember this fight, and when some woman or possibly some man calls you a a cat, you'll feel like fighting too. But I wouldn't mind, she answered firm. And Papa called me a kitten today and I didn't get mad. Well, Florrie, he said wearily. I won't try to explain. I'm going away before long, and perhaps I won't come back again. What if I do, there will be another fight? Going

away, Billy, she cried in alarm, where too to Annapolis? I may stay or I may come back. I don't know. And you are going away and you don't know that you'll come back. Oh, Billy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You got licked too. Who did it? I hate him who licked you? Billy? Never mind, Floory. He'll tell the news and you'll soon know who he is. He walked on, but the child headed him and faced him. There were tears in the gray eyes. And you're going away, Billy, she exclaimed again. When are

you going? I don't know, he answered, whenever I am sent for. If I don't see you again, goodbye, Florrie girl. He stooped to kiss her, but straightened up, remembering the condition of his face. But I will see you again, she declared, I will, I will, I'll come to your house and Billy, I'm sorry I scolded you. Really I am, he smiled ruefully. Never mind that, Flory. You always scolded me, you know, and I'm used to it, but only when you did wrong, Billy, she answered gravely, And somehow I feel

that this time you have not done wrong. But I won't scold you the next time you really do wrong. I promise. Oh, yes you will, little girl. It's the privilege and prerogative of your sex. He patted her on the head and went on, leaving her staring, open eyed and tearful. She was the child of a neighbor. He had mended her dolls, soothed her griefs, and protected her since infancy, but she was only as a small sister to him. While waiting for orders to Annapolis, he

saw her many times, but she did not change to him. She changed, however. She had learned the name of his assailant, and through her expressed hatred for him, and through her sympathy for Billy as a disfigurements left his face. She passed the border between childhood and womanhood. When orders came, he stopped at her home, kissed her goodbye and went to Annapolis, leaving her sad eye with quivering lips, and he did not come back.

And of prologue chapter one of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey,

Chapter one. She was the largest, fastest and the latest thing in seagoing destroyers, And though the specifications called from a thirty six knots speed, she had made thirty eight on her trial trip, and later, under careful nursing by her engineers, she had increased this to forty knots an hour, five knots faster than any craft of float, and with a clean bottom,

this speed could be depended upon at any time it was needed. She derived the speed from six water or two boilers feeding at a pressure of three hundred pounds live steam to five turbine engines working three screws, one high pressure turbine on the center shaft and four low pressure on the wing shafts. Besides these, she possessed two astern turbines and two cruising turbines, all four on the

wing shafts. She made steam with oil fuel there would be no coal on board except for heating and cooking, and could carry one hundred and thirty tons of it, which gave her a cruising radius of about two thousand miles. Also, with piece tanks filled, she could stem three thousand miles without replashing. This would carry her across the Atlantic at thirteen knots speed, but if she was in a hurry using all turbines, she would exhaust her oil in

two days. When in a hurry, she was a spectacle to remember. Built on conventional lines, she showed her a miles distance nothing but a high bow and four short funnels over a mighty bow wave that hid the rest of her long, dark hued hull, and a black, horizontal cloud of smoke that stretched astern half a mile before the wind could catch and rendered. She carried four twenty one inch torpedo tubes and a battery of six twelve pounder rapid

fire guns. Also, she carried two large searchlights and a wireless equipment of seventy miles reach, the aerials of which stretched from the truck of her short signal mast aft to the short pole of the taffrail. Packed with machinery, she was a hot box even when at rest, and when in action, a veritable bake of him. She had a hygienic air space below decks for about a dozen men, and this number could handle her, but she carried

births and accommodations for sixty. Her crew was not on board, however, newly scraped and painted in the dry dock, she had been hauled out, stored, and fueled by a Navy yard gang, and now lay at the dock ready for sea, ready for her drafted men in the morning, and with no one on board for the night. But the executive officer, who was something on his mind, had elected to remain while the captain and other

commission officers went ashore for the night. Four years of the Naval Academy, but two years sea crews and a year of actual service, had made many changes in Denman. He was now twenty five and ensign, but because of his position as executive bearing the complimentary title of lieutenant, he was a little taller and much straighter and square of shoulder than he was when he had gone

to the academy. He had grown a trim mustache, and the sun and winds of many seas had tanned his face to the color of his eyes, which were of a clear brown, and only in repose did they now show the old time preponderance of white beneath the brown. In action, these eyes looked out through two slits formed by nearly parallel eyelids, and with the tightly closed lips and the high arching eyebrows sure side to the highest and best form

of physical and moral courage. They gave his face a sort of take care of look, which most men heeded. Some women would have thought him handsome, some would not. It all depended upon the impression they made of him and the consequent look in his eyes. At Annapolis he had done well. He was the most popular man of his class, had one honors from his

studies, and fist fights from his fellows. While at sea he had shown a reckless disregard for his life in such matters as bursting flues, men overboard, and other casualties of seafaring that brought him many typewritten letters from Washington, a few numbers of advancement, and the respect and admiration of all that knew where had heard of him. His courage, like Missus Caesar's morals, was

above suspicion. Yet there was one man in the world who was firmly convinced that Lieutenant Denman had a yellow streak in him, and that man was Denman himself. He had never been home since his departure for Annapolis. He had promised a small girl that if he came back, there would be another fight,

in which, as he mentally vowed, he would redeem himself. In this he had been sincere But as the months of the academy went on, with the unsettled fight still in the future, his keen resentment died away,

leaving his place a sense of humiliation and chagrin. He's still meant to go back, however, and would have done so when vacation came, But a classmate invited him to his home, and there he went, glad of the reprieve from embarrassing and as seemed to him now an undignified conflict with a civilian. But the surrender brought its sting and his self respect Lesson at the next vacation, he surrendered again, and this thing began eating into his soul.

He felt of the overdue redemption he had promised himself at all times and upon all occasions, but oftenest just before going to sleep with the mental picture of Jack Forsyth swaggering around the corner while he lay conquered and helpless on the ground, would accompany him through his dreams and be with him when he wakened in the morning. It became an obsession, and very soon the sudden thought of his coming fight with Forsyth brought the uplift of the heart and the slight,

choking sensation that betokened nothing but fear. He would not admit it at first, but finally he was compelled to honest with himself as he was with others. He finally yielded in the mental struggle and accepted the dict him of his mind. He was afraid to fight Jack forsythe with no reference to or regard for his standing as an officer and a gentleman. But now it seemed all

this was to leave him. A month before, he had thought strongly of his child friend Florey, and with nothing to do, one afternoon, he had written her a letter, a jolly, rollicking letter filled with masculine colloquialisms and friendly endearments such as he had bestowed upon her at home. And it was the dignity of her reply received that day with the contents of the letter,

which was the something on his mind that kept him aboard. His chief burned as he realized that she was now about twenty years old, a young lady, and that his letter to her had been sadly conceived and much out of place. But the news in the letter, which began with dear sir

and ended with sincerely yours, affected him most. It read, I presume that you know your enemy Jack Forsythe took his disappointment so keenly that he never amounted too much at home, but about two years ago enlisted in the navy. This relieves you, as father tells me, from the necessity of thrashing him, as you declared you would. Officers and enlisted men cannot fight, he said. As the officer has the advantage, I can always order the

man to jail. I thank you very much for remembering me after all of these years. In fact, I shall never forget your kindness. His cheeks and ears had burned all day, and when his fellow officers had gone and he was alone, he reread the letter, sarcasm and contempt between every line, he muttered, she expected me. The whole town expected me to come back and lick that fellow well. His eyelids became rigidly parallel. I'll do it when I find him, I'll get shortly for both of us, take

him home and square the account. This resolution did him good. The heat left his cheek, and the sudden jump of the heart did not come with the occasional thought of the task. Gradually the project took form. He would learn what ship forsythe was in, could transferred to her, and when in port arranged the shore leave. He could not fight him in the navy, but as man to man in civilian's clothing in the town park, he would fight him and thrash him before the populace. It was late when he had

finished the planning. He lighted the last cigar and salted around the deck until the cigar was consumed. Then he went to his room and turned in, thinking of the caustic words of miss Floury for giving her the while, and wondering how she looked grown up. They were pleasant thoughts to go to sleep on, but sleep did not come. It was an intensely hot, muggy

night, and the mosquitoes were thick. He tried another room, then another, and at last Driven out of the wardroom by the pests, he took refuge in the stowage pantry, and, spreading his blanket on the floor, went to sleep on it. End of chapter one, chapter two of The Pirates by Morton Robinson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read

by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter two. He slept soundly, and as he slept, the wind blew up from the east, driving the mosquitoes to cover, and bringing with it a damp, impenetrable fog that sank down over the navy yard and hid century from century, compelling them to

count their steps as they pace. They were scattered throughout the yard at various important points, what at the gangway of each ship of the docks, others at corners and entrances to the different walks that traversed the green lawn, and others under the walls of a huge naval prison. One of these, whose walk extended from corner to corner, heard something and paused often to listen intently, his eyes peering around into the fog. But the sound was not repeated.

While he listened, only as his footfalls sounded soggily on a damp path, where they punctuated by this still small sound that they cannot localize or remember. If ast he might have likened it to the rustling of paper or the sound of the cat's claws digging into a carpet. But at last it ceased,

and they went back and forth many times without hearing him. Then, when about a halfway from corner to corner, a heavy body came down from above, landing on his head and shoulders and baring him to earth, Waile's rifle was knocked from his hand, and big fingers clutched his throat. He struggled and endeavored to call out, but the grip on his throat was too strong, and finally he quieted, his last flicker of consciousness, cognizing other

dropping bodies and the muttered and whispered words of men. So much for this sentry, I know the way, whispered the corotor, and a few gathered around him. We'll make a beeline for the dock and avoid him. Then if we can't find a boat, we'll swim for it. It's the only way, right, whispered another, falling here behind Jenkins, all of you. The whispered word was passed along and in single file, the dark brown bodies, each marked a knee and elbow with a white number, followed the

leader Jenkins. He led them across the green, around corners where centuries were not, and down to the dock were lay the des drawer. Here was a century pacing up and down. But so still was their approach that he did not see them until they were right upon him. Who goes? He started, but the challenge was caught in his throat. He too was choked until consciousness almost left him. Then the stricture was relaxed while they questioned him.

Got a boat around here, hissed Jenkins in his ear whisper, don't speak, No, gasped the sentry, unable to speak louder, and he dared, how many men are aboard? To destroy her? Was asked none? Now crew joins in the morning. Nobody on board to say, lie quiet. If you raise a row, I'll drop you overboard. Come here, you fellows. They closed about him, thirteen in all, and listen to his project. He was a pilot of the bay. How many machinists

were there in the party? Four? Laying the rating right? Enough, said Jenkins, we'll run her out. She's oil fuels. I understand you can fire up in ten minutes, can't you good? Come on, wait though, Jenkins, with his grip of steel, was equal to the task of tearing a strip from his brown prison jacket, and with this he securely gagged the poor sentry. Another strip from another jacket bound his hands behind him, and still another secured him to a mooringflat face upward. This done,

they suddenly filed aboard and spread through the interior. The sentry had spoken truly, they agreed when they mustered together. There was no one on board, and the machinists reported plenty of oil fuel. Soon the fires were lighted and the indicator began to move as the boilers made steam. They did not wait for full pressure. Jenkins has spread out a chart in the pilot house, and when the engines could turn over, he gave the word lines were taken

in except the spring to back on. Then this was cast off, and the long, slim hull moved almost silently away from the deck. Jenkins steered by the light of a match held over the compass until there were steam enough to turn the dynamos. Then the electrics were turned on. In the pilot house engine room and side light boxes, by which time the dock was out of sight in the fog, and they dared speak in articulate words. Their

language was profane but joyous, and their congratulations hardy and sincere. A table knife is an innocent and an innocuous weapon, but two table knives are not, For one can be used against the other so skillfully as to form a fairly good hack saw with which prison bars maybe saw it. The sawing of steel bars was a sound of the century had heard mingling his footfalls. Jenkins at the wheel called to the crowd. Take the wheel, one of you,

He ordered, I've just rounded the corner. Keeper saw east half south for a mile. I'll be here. Then I want to rig the log over the stern. The man answered, and Jenkins departed with the boat's patent log. Down. In the engine and boiler rooms were the four machinists engineers. They would be called in merchant steamers, and under their efforts the engines turned faster while the growing bow waves spread from each side to the sharp stern.

The fog was still thick, so thick that the fansheet beams from the side legs could not pierce it. As far as the bottle, and the forward funnel was barely visible a magnified black stump. Jenkins was back among them,

soon, remarking that she made twenty knots already. Then he slowed down, ordered the lead hove each side, and ringing full speed, quietly took the wheel, changing the course again to the east's quarter north, and ordering a man aloft to keep a lookout in the thinner fog for lights ahead. In a few minutes the man reported a fixed white light four points off the star Wars bow, and a little later a fixed white and red flashlight two points off the port bow. Good, grunted Jenkins. I know just where

I am. Come down from aloft, he called, and watch out for buoys. I'm going out to south into Pocrity channels. Then a dull boom rang out from a stern, followed by another and another, and Jenkins laughed. They found that century, he said, And I telephoned Fort Independence, but it's no good. They've only got salute guns. We passed that fort twenty minutes ago. Any others, they asked, Fort Warren down on the

narrows. That's why I'm going through the hippocratey. Keep your eyes peeled for buoys, you ginks, and keep those leads going, calm and imperturbable. A huge, square faced, giant of a man, Jenkins naturally assumed the leadership of this band of jailbreakers. The light from the binnacle illuminated the countenance of rugged yet symmetrical features, stamped with a prison pollor, but also camp

with a stronger imprint of refinement. A man probably out of place, no doubt, a square peg in a round hole, a man with every natural attribute of a master of men. Some act of rage or passion, perhaps some non adjustment to an unjust environment had sent him to the naval prison to escape and become a pirate, for that was a legal status of all. Soon the wind shifted in the fog, cleared to seaward, but still held its impenetrable wall between them and the town. Then it turned on both search

lights and saw a boiz ahead to starboard and port. Jenkins boasted a little. I've run these channels for years, he said, and I know them as I know the old backyard at home. Hello, what's up? A man had run to the pilot house door in great excitement, an officer aboard. He whispered, I was down looking for grub and saw him. He's been asleep. Take the wheel, said Jenkins. Calmly, keep her as she goes, and leave that black booie to starboard. Then he stepped out

on deck. End of chapter two, Chapter three of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey. Chapter three, seaman off a surgeon, as well as men accustomed to watch and watch a four hours alternate duty and sleep, usually wakened at eight bells, even when sure of an all night's sleep. It was long after midnight when Denman had gone asleep on the pantry floor,

and the slight noise of getting underway did not arouse him. But when eight bells came round again, he sat up, confused, not conscious that he had been called, but dimly realizing that the boat was at sea and that he was culpable in not being on deck. The crew had come, no doubt, and he had overslept. He did not immediately realize that it was still dark, and that if the crew had come, the steward would

have found him. He dressed hurriedly in his room and went on deck, spying a fleeing man in brown mounting the steps ahead of him and looking round. Astern was a fog bank, and ahead the open sea, toward which the boat was charging at full speed. As he looked, a man came aft and faced him. Denmon expected that he would step aside while he passed, but he did not. Instead, he blocked his way. Are you an officer of this boat, sir, asked a man respectfully. I am.

What are you on only to tell you, sir, that she is not now under the control of the Navy department. My name is Jenkins, and with twelve others I escaped from the prison to night and took charge of this boat for a while. We did not know you were on board. Demon started back and fell for his pocket pistol, but it was in his room. However, Jenkins had noticed the movement and immediately sprang upon him, bearing him against the nearest ventilator and pinioning his arms to his side. None

of that, sir, said the giant sternly. Were there any others on board beside yourself? Not that I know of, answered Denman, with forced calmness. The crew had not joined when I went to sleep. What do you intend to do with me? He had seen man after man approach from forward, and now a listening group surrounded him. That's for you to decide, sir. If you will renounce your official position, we'll put you on parole. If you will not, you will be confined below decks who are

ready to leave this craft? Oh we want is our liberty? Have you intend to get it? Every worship in the world will chase this boat. There's not a craft in the world I can catch her or join, Jenkins, but that is beside the point. Will you go on parole, sir? Or in irons? How many are there in your party? Thirteen all told, and that too is beside the point. Answer quickly, sir, I'm needed at the wheel. I accept your offers at Deniman because I want

fresh air, and nothing will be gained an honor and integrity. And by resisting you, however, I shall not assist you in any way. Even if I see you go into destruction, I shall not warn you. That is enough, sir, answered Jenkins. You give me your word of honor? Do you, as an American naval officer not to interfere with the workings of this boat or the movements of her crew until after we have left her. I give you my word, said the young officer, not without some

misgivings. You seem to be in command. What shall I call you? Herbert Jenkins? Seaman gunner Captain Jenkins growled A man and others repeated it. Captain Jenkins responded, Denman, I greet you cordially. My name is William Denman, and sign in the United States Navy and formerly executive officer of this boat. A suppressed exclamation came from the group. A man stepped forward, peered closely into Demon's face, then stepped back. None of that force,

said Jenkins sternly. We're all to treat mister Denman with respect. Now, you fellows step forward and introduce yourselves. I know only a few of you by name. Jenkins went to the wheel, picked up the buoys played upon by the searchlights, and sent the man to join the others as one after another faced Denman and gave his name. Guess you know me, mister Denman, said Forsyth, the first to respond, I know you, Forsyth answered, deadman, hot and ashamed for at the sight and sound of him,

the old heart jump and throwed Achad returned. He fought it down, however, and listened to the names as the men gave them. William Hawks, Seaman, George Davis, Seaman John Kelly, Gunner's mate, Percy Daniels, ship's cook and Thomas Buildings wardroom steward, John Casey, and Frank Munson. They explained, we're at the searchlights forward and down below with the four machinists Riley, Simpson, King and Dwyer. Demon politely bowed his acknowledgments and asked

the raidings of the searchlight men. Why areless operators? They answered, you seem well equipped and well chosen men, He said, to run this boat and to lead the government a lively dance for a while. But until the end comes, I hope we will get on without friction. In the absence of the masterful Jenkins, they made embarrassed replies, all but Forsyth, who remains silent, for no sudden upheaval and reversing relations will eliminate the list of

man's respect for an officer. Daylight had come, and Jenkins, having cleared the last of the buoys, called down the man of the searchlights. Your wireless sharps, aren't you, he asked, Go down to the apparatus and see if you could pick up any messages. The whole coast must be roused. The two obeyed him and wait in search of the wireless room. Soon one return. The air's full of talk, he said. Cases at the

receiver are still listening. But I made out only a few words like Charleston, Brooklyn, jail, pirates, Pensacola, and one phrasing send in pursuit the open sea for us, said Jenkins grimly, until we could think out a plan. Send one of those soldiers to the wheel. A soldier, one who so far had done no work, relieved him, and he mustered his men, all but two in the engine room, to a council amidships.

Briefly, he stated the situation as hinted that by deadman, and verified by the wireless messages, every niche in the world will send its cruisers after them, and no civilized country would receive them. There was but one thing to do, on the circumstances made for the wild coast of Africa. Destroy the boat and land. Each man to work out as future as he could. After a little party. They assented, taking no thought of fuel or

food, and trusting the Jenkins power to navigate. Then, it being broad daylight, they rated the boats stores for clothing, and discarded their prison suits of brown for the blue of the navy. Jenkins, the logical commander,

donning the uniform of the captain, as large a man as himself. Next they chose their bunks in the forecastle, and as they left the deck, Jenkins picked up a bright object on the floor and absolutely put it in his trouser pocket end of chapter three, Chapter four of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia,

Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter four. The boat was now charging due east at full speed, out in the broad Atlantic, and as the full light of day spread over the sea, a few specks and trails of smoke astern showed themselves, but whether or not they were pursuing craft that had crept close in the darkness while they were making steam could not be determined, for they soon sank beneath the horizon. A shirt of immediate safety. Jenkins now stationed

his crew. Forsyth was a seaman. He and Hawkes, Davis and Kelly, the gunner's mate who comprised the deck force, Riley, Sampson, King and Dwyer, all machinists, would attend to the engine and boilers. Casey and Munson, the two wireless operators, would attend to their department, Walt

Daniels and buildings. The cooking steward would cook and serve the meals. There would be no officers, Jenkins declared, all were to stand watch and work faithfully and amicably for the common good, and all disputes were to be referred to him. To this they agreed, for though many of they were of higher comparative rating in the navy, Jenkins had a strong voice, a dominating personality, and a heavy fist. But Jenkins had his limitations, as came

out during a confab. He could not navigate. He had been an expert pilot of Boston Bay before joining the Navy, but in the open sea he was as helpless as any. However, he said, in extenuation, we only need to say all about southeast to reach the African coast. When we hid it, we'll know it. So the course was changed, and soon they sat down to their breakfasts such a meals they had not tasted in years,

wardroom grub every mouthful. Demon was invited, and as he was a prisoner on parole, he was not too dignified to accept, though he took no part in the hilarious conversation. But neither did Forsyth. Denmon went to his room, locked up his private papers, and surrendered his revolver to Jenkins, who declined it. He then put it with his papers and returned to

the deck, seating himself in a deck chair on the quarter. The watch had gone down, and those on deck under Jenkins, who stood no watch, busy themselves and necessary cleaning up of decks and stewing below of the fenders the boat had worn at the dock. Forsyth had gone below, and Demon was somewhat glad in his heart to be free of him, until he'd sell his mind in regard to his attitude towards him. Manifestly, he, a

prisoner on parole, could not seek a conflict with him. On the contrary, should Forsyth to seek it by word or deed, he could not meet him without breaking his parole, which would bring him close confinement. Then two that perspective, fight and vindication before Miss Floury and his townsmen seemed of very small importance compared with the exigency at hand, the stealing by jailbreakers of the navy's best destroyer and one of its officers. His duty was to circumvent these

fellows and return the boat to the government. To accomplish this, he must be tactful and diplomatic, deferring action till the time should come when he could safely ask to be released from parole. In regard to this, he was led that Forsyth, though as evil eyed as before and with an additional truckling expression of the face, had thus far shown him no incivility. He was glad too, because in his heart there was no revengeful thoughts about Forsyth,

nothing but thoughts of duty to himself that had been sadly neglected. Thus tranquilized, he lit a cigar and looked around the horizon. A specting the north caught his eye, and as he watched it became a spot, then a tangible silhouette, a battleship, though of what country he could not determine.

It was heading on a course that would intercept their own, and in a short time at the speed they were making, the destroyer would be within range of our heavy guns, one shell from which could break the frail craft in two. Jenkins and his grab were busy. The man at the wheel was steering by compass and looking ahead, and it was the wireless operator on watch Casey, who rushed on deck, looked at the battleship and shouted the Jenkins. Don't you see that, fellow, he yelled excitedly. I heard him

before I saw him. He asked, what ship is that? Jenkins looked at the north, just in time to see a tongue of red dark from the casemate port. Then, as the bark of the gun came down the wind, a spurt of water lifted from the sea about one hundred yards ahead. Port. Your wheel hard over, yelled Jenkins, running forward. The destroyer swung to the southward, showing her stern to the battleship and increasing her

speed. As the engine room staff nursed the oil feed and the turbines, black smoke, unconsumed carbon and even the blowers could not ignite belched up from the four short funnels and partly hid her from the battleship's view, but obscure though she was, she could not quite hide herself in her smoke, nor could her speed carry her faster than the twelve in shells that now came plowing

through the air. They fell close to starboard into port, and a few came perilously near to the stern, but none hit or exploded, and soon they were out of range and the firing ceased. The battleship heading to the west. Jenkins came aft and looked sternly at them, and still smoking his cigar. Did you see that fellow before we did? He asked? I did, answered Denman, returning us stare, Why didn't you sing out?

If we're sunk? You drowned too? Don't you you forget Captain Jenkins, that I accepted my parole and condition that I shouldn't neither interfere with you nor assist you, but your life. Don't you value that? Not under some conditions? If I cannot emerge from this adventure with credit and honor, intact, I prefer death. Do you understand? Jenkins' face worked visibly as anger

left it and wondering doubt appeared. Then his countenance cleared and he smiled, you're right, sir, I understand now, but you know what we mean to do. Don't you make the African coast and scatter. You can stand for that, not unless I have to, But you will not reach the coast. You will be hunted down and caught before then. Jenkins's face clouded again. And what part will you play if that comes, he asked?

No part active or resistant unless first released from parole. But if I ask for that release, it will be at a time when I'm in greater danger than now. I promise you that very well, sir, Ask for it when you like, and Jenkins went forward. The course to the southeast was resumed, but in half an hour or two other specs in the southern horizon resolved into scout cruisers heading their way, and they turned to the east,

still rushing at full speed. They soon dropped the scouts, however, but were driven to the north by a second battleship that shelled their vicinity for an hour before they got out of range. It was somewhat discouraging, but as darkness closed down they once more headed their course, and all night they charged along at forty knots, with lights extinguished. Both every man's eyes searching the

darkened horizon for other lights. They dodged a few, but daylight brought to view three cruisers ahead into port that showed unmistakable hostility in the shape of screaming shells and solid shot. Again they charged in the north, and it was midday before the cruisers were dropped. They were French, as all knew by their building, though there was no one navigating the boat, dead men in view. A future naed of it took upon himself the winding of the chronometers,

and the days went on. Casey and Munson reporting messages sent from shore to ship, battleships, cruisers, scouts and destroyers appearing and disappearing in their craft, racing around the Atlantic like a hunted fox. James did his best to keep track of the various courses, but not skilled at traverse group bewildered at last, and finally intimated that he did not know where they were. End of chapter four. Chapter five of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This

LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter five. One morning, there was a council of war amidship, to which denmon was not invited until it adjourned as a counsel to become a committee of ways and means. Then they came after a body and asked him to navigate. No, said Denman, firmly, rising to his feet and facing them, I will not navigate unless you surrender this craft to me and work her back to Boston, where you will return to the prison.

Well, we won't do that. Shout it several angrily. Wait you, fellows, said Jenkins, firmly, and speak respectfully to an officer while he asked like one, mister Denman, your position need not be changed for the worse. You can command this boat and all hands if you will take us to the African coast. My position would be changed, answered Denman. If I command this boat, I take her back to Boston, not to the African coast. Very well, sir, said Jenkins, a shade of

disappointment on his face. We cannot force you to join us or to help us, so well, come forward, you, fellows, say Jenkins, broken forsythe You're doing a lot of dictating here, and I've wondered why who gave you the right to decide? You admit your incompetency. You can't navigate, can you? No, I cannot, retorted Jenkins, flushing. Neither can I learn at my age? Neither can you? I can't, stormed forsythe his eyes glaring white as he glanced from Jenkins to Denman and back.

Well, I'll tell you I can. I tell you I haven't forgotten I learned at school, and I could pick him navigation without currying favor from this milk fed thief. You know well, he advanced and held his fist on a demon's face, that I won the appointment you robbed me of another uniform you wear belongs to me. At the first word, Demon's heart gave the

old familiar thump and jump into his throat. Then came a quick reaction by tingling at the hair roots and opening of the eyes, followed by the closing to narrow slits, and with the full weight of his body behind, he crashed his fist into Foresight's face, sending him reeling and whirling to the deck.

He would have followed to repeat the punishment, but the others stopped him, and an intoxication of ecstasy at the unexpected adjustment of his mental poise, he struck out again and again and floored three or four of them before Jenkins backed him against the companion. He's broke his parole, put him in irons, shook him overboard. They coursed and closed around him threateningly, though forsythe his hand to his face remained in the background. That's right, sir,

said Jenkins, holding Demon at the end of one long arm. You have violated your agreeving with us, and we must consider you a prisoner under confinement. All right, panted Demon, iron me if you like, but first form a ring and let me thrash that dog. He thrashed me at school when I was a smaller and weaker. I've promised him a licking. Let me give it to him. No, sir, we will not answer Jenkins. Things are too serious for fighting. You must have that pistol and any

arms that you may have, and be confined to the wardroom. And you, Forsyth, he said, looking at the victim, if you can master navigation, get busy and make good, and you other ginks get out of here. Talk it over amongst ourselves. And if you agree with Forsyth, then I'm not in command here. Get busy too, and I'll overrule you. He released Denmon moved around among them, looking each man steadily in the face, and then staggered forward. Now, sir, he said to Denman,

come below. Denmon followed him down to the companion and into the wardroom. Knowing the etiquette as well as Jenkins, he led him to his room, opened his desk and all receptacles, and Jenkins secured the revolver. Is this all you have, sir, asked Jenkins. Why do you ask that, answered Denman hotly, as a prisoner. Why may I not lie to you, because, mister Denman, I think you wouldn't. However, I won't ask. I'll search this room in the whole boat, confiscating every weapon.

You'll have the run of your stateroom in the wards room, but will not be all out on deck, and you will not be annoyed, except perhaps to lend force like any books he may want. He's the only educated man in the crowd. Better send him down under escort, responded Denman. If you want him back, yes, yes, that'll be attended to have no part in your private affair, sir, But you gave him a good

one, and that ought to be enough for a while. If you tackle him again, build a whole bunch at you better let well enough alone. Deamon sat down in this room, and Jenkins departed. Soon he came back with three others, the steadiest men of the crew, and they made a systematic search for weapons in the wardroom and all the staterooms opening from it. Then they locked the doors leading to the captain's quarters and the doors leading forward,

and went on deck, leaving Deadmon a prisoner. Freddy concoct any antagonistic plan that came to his mind, but he made none as yet. It was too well contented and happy, not so much of being released from a somewhat false position as a prisoner under parole, as in the lifting of the burden of the years, the shame, humiliation, chagrin, and anger dating from the school day thrashing. He smiled as he recalled the picture of foresight

staggering along the deck. The smile became a grin, then a soft chuckle, ending in joyous laughter. Then he applied the mask from the lever of all emotion. He smoked. The state rooms, robbed of all weapons, were left open, and as each room contained a deadlight or circular window, he had a view of the sea on each beam, but nothing ahead or astern, nor could he hear voices on deck, unless pitched in a high key. For the men their training strung upon them remained forward. There was

nothing on either horizon at present. The boat was storming along to the southward, as he knew by a glance at the telltale overhead, and all seemed well with the runaways, until a sudden stopping of the engines roused him up to peer out the deadlight and speculate as to what was ahead. But he saw nothing from either side, and strained his ears for sounds from the deck. There was excitement above. Voices from forward came to him, muffled but

angry and argumentative. They grew louder as the men came aft, and soon he can distinguish Jenkins's loud profanity, drowning the protests of the others. She's a fire in her boats are burned. There's a woman aboard. I tell you we're not going to let him drown over with that boat, or I'll stretched somebody out on debt. Oh you will Forsythe then came a thud as of the swift contact of too hard objects, and to sound as of a bag of potatoes falling to the deck, which told Demon that someone had been

knocked down. Go ahead with the machine, Sampson, said Jenkins again, and forward there, pour your wheel and steer for the yacht. Demon sprang to a starboard deadlight and loot. He could now see, slant wise through the thick glass, a large steam yacht, a fire from her mainmast to a bow, and on the steel and taft quarter deck, a woman frantically

beckoning men nearer. The fire seemed to be fighting in the picture disappeared from view as the boat under the impulse of her engines and wheel straight into a course for the wreck. Soon the engine stopped again, and Demon heard the sounds of the boat being lowered. He saw this boat leave the side, manned by hawks Davis, Forsyth and Kelly, but it soon left his field of vision, and he waited. Then came a dull, coughing, prolonged

report, and the voices on deck broke out. Blown up, yelled Jenkins, she's sinking forward, she's cutting two. Where are they? Where's the woman? That wasn't powder, Riley, what was it steam, answered the machinist coolly. They didn't rip the fires until too late, I suppose, and left the engine under one bell, possibly while they steered for the wind with the preventor tiller. They've got somebody, can't you see? It's the woman blown overboard. See anyone else? I don't. Riley did not answer,

and soon Jenkins spoke again. They're coming back. Only the woman, Only the woman, out of the whole crowd. A better hurry up, responded Riley. What's that over the norward? Nothing but a tramp, said Jenkins at length. But we don't want to be interviewed. Bear a hand, you, fellows, he shouted. There's the woman dead. No guess not, came the answer through the small dead light. Fainted away since we

picked her up burned or scalded somewhat. End of chapter five, Chapter six of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter six. Denman saw the boat for a moment or two as it came alongside, and noticed the still form of the woman in the stern sheets, her face hidden by

a black silk neckkerchief. Then he could only know by the voices that they were lifting her aboard and aft to the captain's quarters, but he was somewhat surprised to see the door that led to these quarters opened by Jenkins, who beckoned him. We've picked up a poor woman, sir, he said, and put her in here now. We're too busy on deck to then to her, mister Denman, and then we don't know how, But well, you're an educated man and a gentleman. Would you mind chase the bunch out?

And I will let him bother you. It's just an extension of your cruising radius, certainly, said Denman. I'll do what I can for her, all right, sir. I'll leave this door open, but I must lock the after companion, he went on deck by the wardroom stairs, while

Demon passed through to the woman. She lay on a transom, dripping water from her clothing to the carpet, and with the black cloth still over her face, But on hearing his footsteps, she removed it, showing a countenance puffed and crimson from the scalding of the live steam that had blown her overboard. Then, groaning pitifully, she sat up and looked at him and threw swollen eyelids. What is it? She exclaimed? Wigly, what has happened?

Where is father? Madam? Said Denman gently, you have been picked up from a steam yacht which exploded your boilers. Are you in pain? What can I do for you? I don't know. Yes, I am in pain my face. Wait, I'll get you what I can from the medicine chest. Devon explored the surgeon's quarters and return with bandages and a mister of linseed oil and lime water. He gently laughed and bound the poor woman's face, and then led her to the captain's birth Go in, he said,

take off your wet clothes and put on these pajamas. Here they are he produced them from a lot, and then turn in. I will be here and we'll take care of you. He departed, and when he saw the wet garments flung out, he gathered them and hung them up to dry. It was all he can do except to look through the surgeon's quarters for stimulants, which he found. He poured out a strong dose of brandy, which he gave to the woman and had the satisfaction of seeing her sink into

profound slumber. Then, returning to the wardroom, he found Jenkins waiting for him. I'm after a sextant, mister Denman, he said, an almanac, a nautical almanac. Forsythe wants, then you must find them yourself, then answered Denman. Neither under parole nor confinement. Why aid you in any way unless you surrender nonsense, said Jenkins impatiently, as he stepped past Denman and approached the bookcase. When we throw the boat, you can have her.

He had incautiously turned his back. Demon saw the protruding butt of his pistol in Jenkins's pocket, and, without any formulated plan for the future, only seeing a momentary advantage in the possession of the weapon, passed on his shoulders and endeavored to secure it. But he was not able to. He could only hold on his arms around Jenkins's neck, while the big sailor hove his huge body from side to side and gripping his legs, endeavored to shake

him off. No word was spoken, only their deep breathing attested to their earnestness, and they thrashed around the wardroom like a dog and a cat. Denman in the latter similitude in the air most of the time, but he was getting the worst of it, and at last, to say the trick, he knew of taught him in Japan, and to be used as a

last resort. Gripping his legs tightly around the body of Jenkins, he sagged down and pressed the tips of his forefingers into two vulnerable parts of the thick neck, where certain important nerves approached the surface parts as vulnerable as the heel of Achilles. Still clinging, he mercilessly continued the pressure while Jenkins swayed back and forth and finally fell backward to the floor. Deadman immediately secured the pistol.

Then, panting hard, he examined his victim. Jenkins was breathing with the greatest difficulty, but could not speak or move, and his big eyes glared piteously up at his conqueror. The latter would have ironed him at once, but the irons were forward in the arm room, so he temporarily bound

him hand and foot with neckties repleveted and from his fellow officers staterooms. Then, relieving Jenkins of his keys, he went forward through the front door to the arm room, from which he removed not only wrist and leg arms whatever he cultless a service revolver at the boat was stocked with at a plentiful supply of ammunition. First properly securing the still a nerd and helpless Jenkins, he dragged into a corner and then stowed the paraphernalia of war in his room,

loading as many as a dozen of the heavy revolvers. He was still without a plan, working under intense excitement, and could only follow impulses, the next of which was to lock the wardroom companion down which Jenkins had come, and to see that the forward door and the after companion were secured. This done, he sat down abreast of his prisoner to watch him and think it

out. There was no change in Jenkins. He still breathed hard and endeavored unsuccessfully to speak, while his eyes, the angry glaire gone from them, looked up inquiringly. Oh you're all right, Captain, Jenkins said, denman, you'll breathe easier tomorrow, and in a week perhaps you may speak a whisper. But you are practically deprived from command, so make the best of it. Jenkins seemed willing to, But this did not solve the problem.

There were twelve other counciltrants on dead who might not be so easily. Jiu jitsued into weakness and dumbness. As the situation cleared, he saw two ways of solving it. One to remain below and from the shelter of his room, to pop them one by one as they came down. The other to take the initiative, assert himself on the deck behind the menace of cock revolvers, and overawe them into submission. The first plan involved hunger, for he

could eat nothing not provided by them. The other a quick and certain ending of the false position he was in, a plan very appealing to his temperament. He rose to his feet, with a final inspection of Jenkins bonds, and going to his room, belted and armed himself with three heavy revolvers. Then opened the ward room companion door and stepped to the deck. No one was in sight except the man at the wheel, not now steering in the close armored conning tower, but at the upper wheel on the bridge. He

looked a haft and spying. Denman gave a shout of warning, but no one responded, and Denman, with a clear field, advanced forward, looking to the right and left until he reached the engine room hatch, down which he peered. Riley's ANSWER's face looked up at him, and farther down was the cringing form of King has made the starboard watch Them did not know their names, but he sternly commanded them to come up. We can't leave the engine, Sir, said Riley, tricking on the the cold argument of two

cold blue tubes, pointing at them. Shut off your gas and never mind your engines, commanded Demon, come up on deck quietly, or I'll put holes in you. King, shut off the gas. Riley turned a valve that eased off the making steam, and the two appeared before Demon. Lie down on deck. The two of you, said, Demon, sharply,

take off your neckerchiefs and give them to me. They obeyed him. He took the two squares of black silk, similar to that which I had covered the face of the rescued woman, and with them he bound their hands tightly behind their backs. Lie still now, he said, until I settled matters. They could rise and move, but could not for him. Immediately, he went forward and mounted to the bridge. How are you heading, he demanded, with a pistol pointed toward the helmsman. South. Do south?

Sir, answered the man. It was Davis of the starboard. Watch leave the wheel. The engine is stopped down on deck with you, and take off your neckerchief. Davis descended meekly, gave him the neckerchief, and was bound, as were the others. Then Demon looked for the rest. So far good. He had three prisoners on deck and one in the wardroom. The rest were below on duty or asleep. They were in the forecastle, the cruise quarters, in the wireless room below the bridge, in the galley

just forward of the wardroom. Deadmon had his choice, and the sound on the forecastle as the place containing the greatest number. Down the fore hatch, he went and entered the apartment. A man rolled down of a bunk and faced him up with your hands, said deadman, softly, up quickly. The man's hands went up. All right, sir, he answered, sleepily and somewhat weakly. My name's Hawks. And having yet disobeyed an order from an officer, don't, warned Demon, sharply take off your neckerchief. Off

came the black silk square. Wake up, demand nearest you tie his hands behind his back and take off his necktie. It was a machinist named Sampson who was wakened and bound with the cold blue tube of Demon's pistol looking at

him. And then it was Dwyer his watch me and Munson, the wireless man off duty, ending with Old Kelly, the gunner's maid, each tied with the neckerchief or the last man wakened, and Hawks the first to surrender, with the Neckerchief of Kelly on deck with you, all commanded Demon, and he drove them up the steps to the deck, where they laid down

beside Riley, King and Davis. None spoke or protested. Each felt the inhibition of the presence of a commissioned officer, and Demon might have won, might have secured the and brought him under control, had not a bullet sped from the after companion, which, besides knocking his cap from his head, inflicted a glancing wound on his scalp and sent him headlong to the deck. End of chapter six seven of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording

is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter seven. After the rescue of the woman, all but those in the duty had mustered forward near the bridge. Jenkins, with a pair of binoculars to his eyes, inspecting a receding steamer on the horizon. The others, passing comments, all had agreed that she was a merchant craft, the first they had met at close quarters, but not all were agreed that she carried no wireless of women. Jenkins, even with the glasses, could not

be sure, but he was sure of one thing, he asserted. Even though the steamer had recognized and reported their position, it made a little difference. Well, said Forsyth. If she can report us, why can't we Why can't we fake a report, send that a message that we've been seeing a thousand miles north. That's a good idea, said Casey, the wireless man off duty. We needn't give any name, only a jumble of letters that spell nothing. How far can you send with what you've got, asked

Jenkins. With those aerials, answered Casey, glancing aloft at the long gridiron of wire. About fifty miles Not much good, I'm afraid, said Jenkins. Lord knows where we are, but we're more than fifty miles from land. That as far as you can reason, broke in forsythe Jenkins, you're handy at a knockdown, but if you can't use what brains you've got, you'd better resign command here. I don't know who elected you anyhow, Are you looking for more, Forsythe asked Jenkins, taking a step toward him.

If you are, you can have it. If not, get down to your studies and find out where this craft is so we can get somewhere. Forsythe, hiding his emotions under a forced grin, retreated toward the Forehatch. I can give you a latitude, he said, before descending by a meridian observation this noon. I picked up the method in one lesson this morning.

But I tell you, Fellows, I'm tired of get knocked down. Jenkins watched him descend, then said to Casey, pick up a message claiming to be from some ship with a jumbled name, as you say, and be ready to send it. If he gets a position, then you think well of it. Certainly Forsyth has brains. The only trouble with him as if he wants to run things too much. Casey, a smooth faced, keyn eyed Irish American, descended to consult with his confrere Munson, and Forsyth appeared

swinging a book, laying this on the bridge stairs. He passed Jenkins and walked aft. Where are you going, asked the ladder. Forsythe turn white with rage, and answered slowly and softly, down to the officers quarters to get a sextant or a quadrant. I found that book on a navigation in the pilot house, but I need the instrument and a nautical almanac. That is as far as my studies have progressed. You stay out of the officers quarters, said Jenkins. There's a man there that will eat you alive if

you show yourself. You want a sextant, an a naunticle almanac, anything else, let us all. I'll get them, and remember you and the rest are to stay away from the after end of the boat. Forsyth made no answer as Jenkins passed him on the way aft, but muttered me alive. We'll see Riley. One of the machinists appeared from the engine room hatch and came forward, halting before forsythe say he grumbled or caused that big lobster to bully rag this crowd the way he's been doing. I heard him just

now giving you hell. He gave me hell yesterday when I spoke with a short Oil. Short Oil queried forsythe do you mean that? I mean that the oil won't last but a day longer. We've been storming along at forty knots and eating up oil. What do we do? God knows, answered Forsyth reflectively. With that oil we stop in mid ocean? What then? What then? Queried Riley? Well before them, we must hold up some craft and get the oil, also grubbing water. If I guess right,

this bunch is hard on the commissary, Riley, said Forsyth impressively. Will you stand by me? Yes, if you could bring that big chump to terms? All right, talk to your partners. Something must be done, and he can't do it. Wait a little, as though to verify Riley and uphold him in his contention. Daniels, the cook came forward from the galley and said, just about one week's whack a grub and water left.

We'll have to go on an allowance. Then he passed on what was called back one week's grub left, asked Forsyth, Sure that, Daniels, surest thing? You know? Plenty of beans in hearttack, But who wants beans and hardtack? Have you spoken Jenkins about it? No? What we meant to something's got to be done. Where is he now? Down aft?

Said Forsyth reflectively, what's keeping him? Riley sank into the engine room, and Daniels went forward to the forecastle, reappearing before Forsyth had reached a conclusion. Come aft with me, Daniels, he said, let's find out what's doing. Together. They crept aft and peered down the wardroom skylight. I saw demon Jenkins locked in furious embrace and washed. Jenkins sat down, helpless and impotent. They saw them and bind him, disappear from sight and reappear

with the irons. Then they listened to his part in lecture to Jenkins, Come, said forsythe down below with us quick. They descended the galley companion, from which a passage led after the petty officers quarters, which included the arm room, and thence through the forward door of the wardroom. Here they halted and listened to them his movements while he armed himself and climbed the companion stairs. They could also see through the keyhole. He's healed, cried forsythe

Where did he get the guns? Where's the arm room? Here about somewhere? Where is it? They heard these searched and found the arm room. It contained cumbersome rifles, cutlasses, and warheads, but no pistols. He's removed them all. Can we break in that door, asked forsythe rushing towards the bulkhead. Nah hold on, said Daniels. We'll watch from the companion, and when he's forward, we'll sneak down the other and heal ourselves good.

So while Demon crept up and walked forward, glancing right and left, but she watched him for the galley hatch, and after he had baland two engineers and the helmsman, they slipped aft and descended the wardroom stairs. Here they looked at Jenkins, vainly trying to speak, but ignored him for the present. They hurried through the quarters and finally found Demon's room with his arsenal loaded revolvers. They belted and armed themselves and carefully climbed the steps, just

in time as he Demon drive the forecastle contingent to the deck. The Forsyth, taking careful aim, sent the bullet, which knocked them and unconscious, to the deck. End of chapter seven, Chapter eight of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter eight, Forsyth and Daniels ran forward, while Billings, the cook Off watch followed from the galley. Hatch and Casey

came up from the wireless room. Each asked questions, but nobody answered at once. There were eight men lying upon the deck, and these must first be released, which was soon done. Denman, lying prone with a small pool of blood near his head, was next examined and pronounced alive. He was breathing, but dazed and shocked. For a large caliber bully glancing upon

the skull has somewhat the same effect as the blow of a cudgel. He opened his eyes as the men examined him, and dimly heard what they said. Now, said Forsyth, when these preliminaries were concluded. Here we are miles at sea, with short store of oil according to Riley, in a short store of grub according to Daniels. What's to be done? Hey? The man who has bossed us so far hasn't seen this as now down in the wardroom, knocked out by this brass button, duodm ling, what are

you gonna do? Hey? Forsythe flourished his pistols dramatically. BEng larret unspeakable things to doodling on the deck. Well, forsythe said old Kelly, the gunner's mate. You've pretended to be a navigator. What do you say? I say this, declared forsythe I'm not a navigator, but I can be. But I want to understood. There's got to be a leader, a commander. If you fellows agree, I'll master the navigation and take this boat to the African coast. But I want no halfway work. I want my

orders to go just as I give them. Do you agree you've gone wrong under Jenkins? Take your choice. You're right, Forsyth said, Casey the wireless man, the the starboard watch. Jenkins is too easy, too careless. Take the job. I say. Do you all agree, yelled Forsyth wildly in his excitement. Yes, yes, they exclaimed, Take charge and get us out of these seas. Who wants to be locked up? All right? Said Forsyth, that I'm the commander. Lift that baby down to

the skipper's room with a sick woman and let them nurse each other. Lift Jenkins out of the wardroom and stow him in the forecastle bunker. Riley, nurse your engines and save oil, but keep the dynamo going for the wireless and you, Casey, have you got that message cooked up? I have. All I want is the latitude and the lawn to descend it from. I'll give it to you soon. Get busy now and do your share.

I must study a little. The meeting adjourney, deadman, still days with a splitting headache, was assisted aft and below to the spare birth in the captain's quarters, where he sank at the unconsciousness. With the moaning of the stricken woman in his ears, Casey went down to his partner and his instruments.

Riley and King, with their confrares with the other watch, went down to the engines to nurse them, and forsythe after Jenkins had been lifted out of the wardroom and forward to the forecastle bunk, searched the bookshelves and the desks of the officers, and, finding what he wanted, went forward to study. He was at He was a high school graduate and only needed to apply himself to produced results, and Forsyth produced them as he had promised.

He took him ridiant observation that day and half an hour announced the latitude thirty five degrees forty minutes north. Now, Casey, he called, after he had looked the track chart. Got your fake message ready only this, answered Casey, scanning a piece of paper. Listen, stolen destroyer bound north latitude so and so, longitude so and so that'll do, or anything like it. Send it from latitude forty north fifty five west. That's up close to

the corner of the lanes. And if it's caught up, they'll keep him busy up there for a while. What's our longitude? Don't know and what until I learned the method. But just north of us is the west to east track of outbound low power steamers, which I take it means tramps and tankers. Well, we'll have good use for a tanker. You mean, we'll hold up one for oil, of course, and for grub if we need it. Piracy, Forsyth, Have pirates got anything on us? Now?

Asked Forsyth, What are we mutineers, convex strong arm men, thieves or just simply pirates? Off the deck with you, Casey, and keep your wires high forty north forty five west for a while. Then we'll have it farther north. Casey jotted down the figures and departed to the wireless room, where at intervals throughout the day he sent out into the ether of the radiating waves, which, if picked up within fifty miles by a craft beyond

the horizon, might be relayed on. The success of the scheme cannot be learned by any tangible signs, But for the next few days, while the boat lay with wide engines and Forsyth studied navigation, they were marked that they were not pursued or noticed by passing craft. And as the boat with dead engines rolled lazily in the long Atlantic swell, while the men all but Forsyth, the two cooks, and the two wireless experts lulled lazily about the deck,

the three invalids of the ship's company were convalescing in different degrees. Jenkins, dumb and wheezy, lay prone in the forecastle bunk, trying to wonder how it happened. His mental faculties, though apprising him that he was alive, would hardly carry him to the point of wonder, for wonder predicates imagination, and what little Jenkins was born with had been shocked out of him. Still, he struggled and puzzled, and guessed weakly as to what had happened

to him. When a committee from the loungers above visited him and asked him what struck him, he could only point suggestively to his throat and wag his head. He could not even whisper, and so they left him pondering over the profanely expressed opinion of old Kelly that it was a visitation from God. The committee went after the skipper's quarters, and here loud talk and profanity ceased,

for there was a woman below. And while these fellows were not gentlemen, as his term is understood, they were men, bad men, but men. On the way down the stairs, Kelly struck bare handed his watchmate Hawks for expressing an interest in the good books of the woman, and Sampson, a giant like his namesake, smote Old Kelly hip and thigh for qualifying

his strictures on the common of Hawks. Thus corrected and enjoyed with captain hand, they approached the open door of the starboard room, where lady injured woman in the berth, fully blowthed in her now dried garments, and her face still hidden in demon's bandage. Excuse me, madam, said Sampson, the present chairman of the committee. Can we do anything for you? I cannot see you, she answered faintly. I did not know where I am nor what will happened to me, but I haven't need of attention. One man

is kind to me, but he's not returned. Who are you you men? We're a crew of the boat, answered Sampson awkwardly. The skipper's forward, and I guess the man that was kind to you as our prisoner. He's not on the job now. But what can we do? Tell me where I am and where I'm going? What boat is this? Who are you well, madam broke an old jilly. We're a crowded jailbreakers that stole a torpedo boat destroyer and put the seat we got you off a burn in

seeking yacht. Then you're here with us. But I'm blessed if I know what we'll do with you. Our next are in the halter, so to speak, or rather, our hands and ankles are in irons for life. If we're caught, you've got to make the best of it until we get caught. And if we don't, you've got to make the best of it too. Lots of young men among us, and you're no spring chicken.

But it looks at you. Oh. Kelly went down before a fist of blows from Hawks, who thus strove to rehabilitate himself in the good opinion of his mates, and Hawks went backward from a blow from Sampson, who, as yet unsullied from unworthy thought, held this position as peacemaker and moralist. And while they were recovering from the excitement, denman, with blood in his face from the wound in his scalp, appeared among them. You fellows,

utterly devoid of manhood and self respect. He said sternly that you appear before the door of a sick room and bade a woman who cannot defeat herself even by speech, Shame upon you. You have crippled me, but I am recovering. If you cannot aid this woman, leave her to me. She has burned, scalded, disfigured. She hardly knows her name or where she came from. You have saved her from the wreck and have since collected her. Men, you are jailbirds, as you say, but you are American

seamen. If you cannot help her leave her, Do not insult her. I am helpless. If I had power, I would decreate further relief in the medicine chest. But I am a prisoner restricted. Sampson squared his big shoulders on deck, with you fellas, all of you get quick. They followed up the companion, leaving Sampson looking at Demon. Lieutenant, he said, you take care of this poor woman, and if anyone in her fears, notify me. Almost big a man as Jenkins who's knocked out, and

a bigger man than Forsyth who's now in command. But we're fair, understand We're fair the most of us. Yes, yes, answered Demon as he staggered back to a transmit scene. Want anything yourself, asked Sampson as he noted the soup and figure of Demon. You're still lieutenant, Demon of the Navy, understand No, I do not leave me alone. Samson followed his

mates. Demon sent out a few moments, nursing his aching head and trying to adjust himself to conditions, And as he sat there, he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a weak voice saying, are you Lieutenant Demon? Billy Denmon. He looked up the bandaged face of the woman was above him. Out of the folds of the bandage looked two serious gray eyes, and he knew them. Florrie, he said, in a choke. Is this you grown up? Florrie Fleming? How? Why what brings you here?

I started on the trip, Billy, she said, calmly, with father on a friend's yacht, bound for the bermudas we caught fire and I was the only one saved, it seems. But how are you here subordinate to these men? Are you injured? Billy? You're bleeding? What is happened? The finger of fate, Flory or the act of God? Answered Demon with a painful smile. We must have the conceit taken out of us on occasions. You know, Forsyth, my schoolmate is a command of this

crowd of jailbreakers and pirates. Forsyth, your conqueror. She received this step I had Do you know, mister Demon, that you were my hero when I was a child, that I never forgot gave Jack Forsyth. I had hoped to hear. Oh I know, he interrupted hotly, while's head frobbed anew with the surge of emotion. I know what you and the whole town expected, But well, I knocked him down on the deck a short time back, and the knockdown stands, but they would not allow a finish.

Then he shot me when I was not looking. I am glad, she answered, simply for your sake, and perhaps for my own. For I too, it seems am in his power. He answered her as he could, incoherently and meaninglessly. But she went to her room and closed the door. End of chapter eight, Chapter nine of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield,

New Jersey, Chapter nine. Down the wardroom companion came Forsyth, followed by Sampson, who edgured alongside of him as he appeared into the after compartment, where Denman sat on the transom. What do you want down here with me, asked Forsyth in a snarl, as he looked sidewise at Sampson, to see that you act like a man, answered the big machinist. There's a sick woman here, and a more or less sick man. Answered Forsyth

that if I hadn't made sick, would have had you in irons. Get up on deck all I want is a chronometer under the circumstances, where, joined Sampson Cooley, do I acknowledge your authority as far as governing this cruise concerned? When it comes to a sick woman defended only by a wounded officer, I shift to a jurisdiction of the officer. If Lieutenant Demon asked that I go on deck, I will go. Otherwise I remain, wait, said Demon weakly. For your lost much blood, Perhaps Forsyth need not be

antagonized or coerced. Forsyth, do you remember a little girl at home named Florrie Fleming? Well, that woman is she? I appeal to whatever is left to your boyhood ideals to protect this woman and care for her. Yes, I remember her, answered Forsyth with a bitter smile. She thought you were a tin god on wheels and told me after you've gone, had you come back and thrash me? You didn't, did you? His speech ended in the sneer. No, but I will when the time comes, answered

Denman. But the mental transition from pity to anger overcame him and he sank back. Now this is neither here nor there, Forsyth said Sampson sternly. You want a chronometer. When you get it, you have no more business here than I have. I think you better use your authority like a man or. I'll call a meeting of the boys, of course, answered Forsyth,

looking at the big shoulders of Samson. But inasmuch as I knew this fellow from boyhood, and knew this girl when I was a child, the best care I can give her is to remove this chap from her vicinity. We'll put him down the fore peak and let one of the cooks feed her and nurse her. We'll see about that on deck, said Sampson, indignantly. I'll talk, yes, broken, Demon, standing up, Forsyth is right. It is not fitting that I should be here alone with her.

Put me anywhere you like, but take care of her as you are men and Americans. Forsyth made no answer, but Sampson gave Demon a troubled, doubtful look, then nodded and followed Forsyth to the various rooms until it secured what he wanted. Then they went on deck together, but in an hour they were back, and though Demon had heard nothing of a conclave on deck, he judged by their faces that there had been one, And then at

Forsyth had been overruled by the influence of Samson. For Sampson smiled and forsythe scowled as they lived. Demon into the wardroom to his own birth and locked him in with the assurance that cooks would feed him and attend to the wants of himself and the woman. Billings had come with arnica, plaster and bandages and roughly dressed his wound, but he gave them no information of their plans.

However, Demon could still look out through a deadlight. A few hours after the boat's engines had started, he could see a steamer on the horizon. Steamer on course that would soon intercept without the destroyer. She was a one funneled, two masted craft, a tramp possibly a working boat, surely, but he only learned when her striped funnel came to view that she belonged to a regular line. She made no effort to avoid them, but held

on until with inhaling distance. When he heard Forsyth's voice from the bridge. Steamer ahoy, He shouted, what's your cargo? Oil? Answered the man in the steamer's bridge. What are you holding me up for? Oil? Answered Forsyth, How is it stowed in cases or in bulk. In bulk you dog one full? Very good? We want some of that oil you do? Hey? Who are you? You look like that runaway destroyer. I've heard so much about who's going to recompense the company for the oil you

want? Hey? Where do I come in? Who pays the bill? Send it to the United States Government? Or send it to the devil? Pass a hose over the side and dip your end in the tank. Suppose I said no, well, we'll send a few shells into your waterline. Is that straight? Are you pirates? That would sink a working craft? As far as you're concerned, we are. Pass over your hose and stop talking about it. All we want is a little oil. Will you give me our written receipt? Of course, name your bill. We'll toss it

up in the drift boat. Pass over the hose, all right, Hook up your own reducer and suck it full with your pump. That will siphon down. Got reducers, Sampson got several. I guess we could start the flow. The two craft drew close together, The hose was flung from the tanker to the destroyer, and the four machinists worked for a while with wrenches and pump fittings until the connection was made. Then they started the pump,

filled the hose, and disconnecting, dropped their end into the tanks. The oil, by the force of gravity, flowed from one craft to the other until the gages showed a full supply. Then a written received for one hundred and twenty five tons of oil was signed by the leaders, tied to a piece of iron and tossed aboard the tanker, and the two craft separated,

the pirate heading south. As Denman conceived by the telltale Denman, his wounded sky up easier, laid down in his berth and smoked while I thought out his plans. Obviously the men were pirates, fully committed, it would probably repeat the performance, And as obviously they would surely be caught in time. There was nothing he can do except to heal his womb. And wait, you cannot even assist missus Floury, no matter what peril might menace her.

Then, as he remembered a bunch of duplical keys given him when he joined an executive officer, he thought that perhaps he might. They were in his desk, and rolling out he secured them. He tried them in turn on his door lock, and finally found the one that fitted. This he took off the ring and secured his own bunch of keys, placing the others, which he easily your eyes belonged to all the locking doors in the boat in

another pocket. Then he lay back to finish his smoke, but Sampson opened his door and interrupted, you'll excuse me, sir, he began, while Devon appeared critically on him through the smoke. But I suppose you know we've just done, yes, he answered, I could see a little and hear more. You've held up and robbed an old steamer, and as a piracy, sir, in the old sense, a hanging matter if we're caught hardly, no, said Denman after a moment's reflection. Laws are repealed every now

and then. Did you kill anyone? No, sir, Well, I just that a pirate it sees about on the same plane as a burglar on shore. If he kills anyone while committing a felony, he's guilty of murder in the first degree. Better not kill any fellow men. Then you'll only get a long term, perhaps for life, when you're nabbed. Thank you, mister, Denman. They're talking big things on deck, but there'll be no killing. Forsythe is something of a devil, and we'll stop at nothing.

But I'll pardon me, said Demon lazily. He'll stop at me if you release me. Not yet, sir, it may be necessary, but at present we're thinking of ourselves, all right. But tell me how did you get a key to my door? How many keys are there? From billing, sir? Not with Forsythe's knowledge. However, Billings and some others think no more of him than I did. That's right, responded Denman. I know him at school. Look out for him. By the way, is the lady Aft being attended to, Yes, Sir Daniels. The other

cook brings her what she needs. She's not locked up, though. That's good. Give her the run of the deck and take care of her. Yes, sir, we will, answered Samson, as respectfully as though we're a legitimate order. Per force of habit is strong. Then he left the room, locking the door behind him. Denmon smoked until he finished the cigar, and after he had eaten a supper brought by Billings, he smoked again until darkness closed down there, closing down of darkness came a plan end of

chapter nine, chapter ten of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter ten. Tossing his cigar through the open deadlight, Demon arose and unlocked his door, passing into the small and empty wardroom. First, he tried the forward door leading into the petty officer's quarters and to the arm room, and, finding it locked, sought for the key, which opened it,

and passed through, closing the door softly behind him. Farther forward, he could hear the voice of Billing, singing cheerfully to himself in the galley, and filtering through the galley hash and open deadlights, the voice of Forsyth uttering angry commands to someone on deck. He had no personal design upon Billings, nor at present upon Forsyth, so he searched the arm room. As Forsyth and Daniels had found, there was nothing there more formidable than Cutlass's rifles

and torpedo heads. The pistols had been removed to some other place, so Demon went back and searched the wardroom, delving into closets and receptacles, looking for arms, but he found none and sat down on the chair to think. Presently, he arose and tapped on the glazed glass door of the Captain's apartment Floorry. He said, in a half whisper, Florry, are you awake? There was no answer for a moment. Then he saw a shadow move across the door. Floury, He repeated, are you awake? Who

is this? Came in, answering whisper through the door, Denmon, Billy Denman, He answered, if you are awaking clothed, let me in. I have a key and I want to talk with you. All right, yes, come in, but I have no key and the door is locked. Deamon quickly found the key and opened the door. She stood there with her face still tied up in claws and only her gray eyes showing in a light from the electric bulbs of the room. Floory. He said, will

you do your part towards helping us out of our present trouble. I'll do what I can, Billy, but I cannot do much. You can do a lot, he responded. Just get up on deck with your face tied up and walk around. Speak to any man you meet, and go forward to the bridge. Ask anyone you see any question you're like as to where we are going, or what is to be done with us, anything at

all which will justify your presence on deck. Just let them see that you are on deck, and we'll be on deck again, will you, Flory? My face is still very bad, Billy, and the wind cuts like a knife. Why must I go up among those men? I'll tell you afterward. Go along, Flory, just show yourself and come down. I am in the dark. Why do you not tell me what is ahead? I would rather stay here and go to bed. You can go to bed in ten minutes, said Deadman. But go up first and show yourself and

come down. I will do the rest. Well, Billy, I will. I do not like to, but you seem to have some plan which you did not tell me of, So well, all right, I'll go up. She put on a cloak and ascended the companion stairs, and Deadman sat down to wait. He heard nothing, not even a voice of congratulation, and after a few moments Florrie came down. I met them all, she said, and they were civil and polite. What more do you want of me, Billy? Your cloak, your hat, and your skirt.

I will furnish the banager. What exactly. I will go up dressed like you and catch them on awares one by one. But Billy, they will kill you or hurt you. Don't do it, Billy, now here, Florrie girl, he answered firmly. I'll go into the wardroom and you toss in the materials from my disguise. Then you go to bed, and if I get into trouble, they will return the clothes. But suppose they kill you, I will be at their mercy, Billy. I'm alone here without

you, Floury. They are sailors. That means they are men. If I win, you are all right, of course. Now let me have the things I want to get command of this boat. Take them, Billy, but return to me and tell me. Don't leave me in suspense. I won't. I'll report, Florey. Just wait and be patient. He passed into the wardroom, and soon the skirt, hat and cloak were thrown

to him. He had some trouble in donning the garments, for while the length of the skirt did not matter, the width certainly did, and he must needs piece out the waistband the length of string ruthlessly punching holes to receive

it. The cloak was a tight squeeze for his broader shoulders, but he managed it, and after he had thoroughly massed his face with bandages, he tried to they were happins sticking to it, which he knew the utility of, But as she furnished him nothing of her thick crown of hair, he jabbed these through the bandage and surveyed himself in the skipper's large mirror. Most ladylike, he muttered, squinting through the bandages. Then he went on deck.

His plan had progressed no further than this, to be able to reach the deck unrecognized, so that he can watch, listen to the talk, and decide what he might do later on. Billings still sang cheerily in the galley, and the voices forward were more articulate, chiefly concerned, it seemed, with the replenishing of the water and food supply, and the necessity of

foresights pursuing his studies so that they can know where they were. The talk ended by their dry having their commander below, and when the watches were set, demon himself went down. He decided as he had come up by the captain's companion reported the safety to floorry through the part of the open stateroom door, and also requested that each night, as she retired, she should toss

the hat, cloak and skirt into the wards room. To this she agreed, and he discarded the uncomfortable rig and went to his room, locking the captain's door behind him. Also his own. His plan had not progressed. They had only found a way to see things from the deck instead of through a dead light, and he went to sleep with a troubled thought that even though he shouldn't master them all as he had once an they succeeded in doing, he would need to release them in order that they should work ship.

To put them on parole was out of the question. The sudden stopping of the turbines awoke him in the morning, and the sun shine into his dead light apprised him that he had slept late. He looked out in a head and saw a large white steam yacht resting quietly on the rolling ground swell, apparently waiting for the destroyer to creep up to her. But another hold up, he said, and for grubbing water this time, I suppose wishing to

see this from the deck. He rushed after the captain's room and tapped on the door, meanwhile fumbling for his keys. There was no answer, and tapping again, he opened the door and entered floory. He called in a whisper, are you awake? She did not reply, but he heard Sampson's voice from the deck. This is your chance. It's miss he said. We're going to get stores from that yacht, but no doubt she'll take you on board. Is she bound to New York or some port where I may

reach friends? As the girl no bound to the Mediterranean? Will you release mister Denman as well? No, I'm pretty sure the boys will not. He knows our plans, and as a naval officer, you see, with a strong interest in landing us once on shore, he would have every warship in the world after us. Then I stay here with mister Denman. He is wounded and is my friend. Demon was on the point of calling up to insist that she leave the yacht, but he thought in time that it

would reveal his position and leave him more helpless us. While perhaps she might still refuse to go, He heard Sampson's footsteps going forward and called to her softly, but she too had moved forward, and he went back to his dead light. It was a repetition of the scene with the oil steamer Forsyth loudly and profanely announcing his wants and calling the yachts attention to two twelve pounders

aimed at her waterline. She was at the standard type clipper bowed square stern with one funnel and two masts, and from the trucks of these masks stretched a three wire grid for wireless outfit. Forward was a crowd of blue clad sailors on the bridge, an officer and a helmsman, and aft on the fantail a number of guests. While amidships conversing earnestly were two men whose dress

indicated that they were the owner and sailing master. In the door of a small deck house near them stood another man in uniform, and to this man, the owner turned and spoke a few words. The man disappeared inside, and denman, straining his ears, heard the rasping sound of a wireless ascender, and simultaneously Casey's warning shout to forsythe He's calling for help, Forsyth stop him. Then came Forsyth's vibrant voice. Call that man out of the wireless

room, he yelled, Or we'll send a shell into it. Train that gun, Kelly, and stand by for the word. Call him out, he continued. Stop that message. The rasping sound ceased, and the operator appeared. Then, with their eyes distended, the three ran forward. Anyone else in that deck house called Forsyth. No, answered the sailing master. What are you going to do, Kelly, said Forsyth, aim low, and send a shell into the house, aim Low, so to smash the

instruments. Keilly's reply was inarticulate, but in a moment the gun barked and the deck house disintegrated into a tangle of kindling, from which ooze the cloud of smoke. Women screamed, and forward and aft beats. People crowded were the ends of the craft. What in thunder are you trying to do? Roared the sailing master, shaking his fist. Are you going to sink us? Not unless necessary? Replied Forsyth. Well we want grub, good grub

too, and water. We want water through your own hose because ours is full of oil. Do you agree? There was a short confab between the owner and the sailing master ending with the ladders calling out, We'll give you water and grub, but don't shoot any more hardware at us. Come closer and throw a heaving line and send your boat if you like for the grub.

Our boats are all lashed down. That's reasonable, answered Forsyth Hawks Davis Daniels Billings, you fell as clear away of that boat of ours and stand by to go for the grub. The two craft drew together and for the rest it was like the other hold up. The hose was passed and while the tanks were filling, the boat passed back and forth, making three trips, heavily laden with barrels, packages and boxes. Then, when forsythe key of the word, the hose was drawn back, the boat hoisted and secured,

and the two craft separated without another word of threat or protest. End of chapter ten. Chapter eleven of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey. Chapter eleven fully committed, muttered Denman as he drew back from the deadlight. They'll up at nothing now. He was about to open his door to visit Florry if she had descended. When it was opened from without by

Billings, who had brought his breakfast. Well, I have better grow up in a while, sir, he said, as he deposited the tray on the desk. Suppose you know what happened? Yes, and I see the life imprisonment for all of you unless you are killed in the catching. Can't help it, Sir, answered Billings with a deprecatory grin. We're not going back to jail, nor will we starve in the high seas. All we're waiting for is the course of the African coast unless he paused, unless what

demanded Denman, leaning over his breakfast. Well, unless the vote is to stay at sea, we've got a good fast boat under us. What do you mean continued piracy. I can't tell you anymore, Sir, answered Billings as he went off, after carefully locking the door behind him. When Denman had finished his breakfast, he quietly let himself out. Tapping on the afterdoor.

He saw Florie's shadow on the translucent glass and opened it. She stood before him with the bandages removed, and he saw her features for the first time since she had come aboard. They were pink, and here there was a blister that had not yet disappeared, but even so handicapped, her face shone with a beauty that he had never seen in the woman, nor imagine in a grown up child that he remembered. The large, serious gray eyes were the same, but the short, dark ringlets had developed a wealth of

hair that would have suitably crowned a queen. Demon stood transfixed for a moment, then found his tongue floury. He said softly, So it's not to be heard from above. Is this really you? I would never known you. Yes, I know, she answered, with a smile, which immediately changed to a little grimace of pain. I was badly scalded, but I had to take off the cloth to eat my breakfast. No, he said, I didn't mean that. I mean you've improved. So why, Flory,

you've grown up to be a beauty. I never imagine you you looking so fine. Don't talk like that, billy. I'm disfigured for life. I know I can never show my face again. Nonsense, Floory, the redness will go away. But tell me why didn't you go aboard that yacht? I overheard you talking to Sampson. Why didn't you go and get away from this bunch. I have just told you, she answered, Walt hadn't overspread her pink face. That did not come out of the scolding. There

were women on that yacht. Do you think I want to be stared at and pitied and laughed at? I never thought of that, said Denman. But I suppose it is a very vital reason for a woman. Yet it's too bad. This boat is sure to be captured, and there may be gunfire. It's a bad place for you. But Floory, let me tell you. Did you see what came on board from the yacht, boxes and barrels and the water. Yes, and some of those boxes contained whiskey and

brandy. Whiskey and brandy make men forget that they are men. Have you a key for your door? No, I never saw one. Demon tried his bunch of keys on the stateroom door until he found the right one. This he took off the ring and inserted it in the lock. Lock your door every time you go in there, he said, impressively. And floury another thing, Keep that pretty face of yours out of sight of these men.

Go right in there now and replace the bandages. Then, after a while, about nine o'clock, go on deck for a walk around and then let me have your rig. I want to daylight look at things, check, we asked, and he went back to his room, locking himself in just in time to escape the notice of Billings, who had come for the tray. Are you feels going to deprive me of all exercise? He demanded? Even an an irons is allowed to walk the deck A little don't know,

sir, answered Billings. Forsyth is demand to talk to I'll do more than talk to him, growled Deam in between his teeth. Carry my request for exercise to him. Say that I demand the privileges of a convict. Very good, sir, answered Buildings. As he went out. A few moments he was back with the news that Forsyth had profanely denied the request. Whereat Demon's heart hardened the more. He remained quiet until two bells nine o'clock

had struck. Then went out and approached the after door just in time see Florrie's shadow passed across the glass as she mounted the stairs. He waited, and in about five minutes she came down, and, no doubt, seeing his shadow on the door, tapped gently. He promptly opened it, and she said, leave the door open and I'll throw you my things in a minute. They are drinking up there, drinking, he mused as he waited. Well, perhaps I can get a gun if they drink his stupidity.

Soon Florrie's hand opened the door and the garments came through. Deadmon had a little trouble now and dotting them, and with his head tied up as before, he passed through the captain's apartment to the deck. It was a mild sunshiny morning with little wind, and that for the northeast. White globes of clouds showed here and there, and Deadman knew them from the unmistakable sign of

the trade winds, but he was more interested in matters on deck. All hands except Billings, who was singing in the gallery, and Munson, one of the wireless men, were clustered around the forward funnel, and there were several bottles circulating around. Forsyth, with a sex in his hand, was berating them. Go slow, you infernal ginks, he snarled at them. But he'll be so drunken an hour that you won't know your names. Ready

in there, Munson, Yes, answered Munson from the pilot house. Forsyth put this sext into his eye and swept it back and forth for a few moments. Time he called suddenly and lowering the sexton looked in at Munson, got it, asked Monthson, yes, and have it down in black and white. Forsyth made a notation from the sexton on a piece of paper. Now again, said Forsyth, And again he took a sight, shouted time, and made another notation. Then he went into the pilot house, and

Munson came out and made the shortest cut to the nearest bottle. He's taken the chronometer sights, mused them, and he leaned against the companion hood. Well, he's progressing fast, but there was never a doubt that he is a scholar. He went down and threw a crack of the door, obtained Miss Florrie's permission to keep the cloak and skirt for the morning, as he wanted to see later how the drinking was progressing. Florrie consented, and he

went to his room to wait. As he waited, the sounds above grew ominous ohs and loud laughter, shouts, whoops, and grumblings, mingled with Forsyth's angry voice. Of command came down to him through the open deadlight. Soon he heard the thumping of human bodies on deck and knew there was a fight going on, a fight always appealed to him, and yielding to this unworthy curiosity, Demon again passed through the captain's quarters, making sure on the

way that Flory was locked in, and reached the deck. There were two fights in proper, one a stand up and knockdown affair near the pilothouse, the other a wrestling match amidships. He couldnot recognize contestants, and with the thought that perhaps Forsyth is one of them, stepped forward a few feet to observe. At this moment, buildings, the cheerful buildings came up to Galley Hatch, no longer cheerful, but morose of face and menacing of gait,

as is usual with this type of man when drunk. He spiked Demon in his skirt, cloak, hat and bandage, and with a clucking chuckle in his throat and a leering grin on his face, made for him sale girl. He said, thickly, let's have a kiss. Denman, anxious about his position in peculiar privilege, backed away, but the unabashed pursuer still pursued and caught him on the companion. He attempted to pass his arm around Denman,

but did not succeed. Demon pushed him back a few feet, then, with the whole weight of his body behind it, launched forth his fist and struck the sailor squarely between the eyes. Billings was lifted off his feet and hurled backwards his whole length before he reached the deck. Then he lay still for a moment, and as he showed signs of life, Demon darted down to the wardroom, where he shot as disguised as quickly as possible.

Then he roused Florey, passed the garments into her, warned her to keep her door locked, and went to his own room, locking the doors behind him. He waited and listened while the shouts and oaths above crew less, and finally he's silent, though at times he recognized Forsyth's threatening voice. He's supposed that by now all of them except Forsyth were stupidly drunk. I was much surprised when at eight bells Billions opened the door with his dinner well cooked

and savory. He was not quite sober, but a sober as a drunken man may become, who was at every nerve sinew an eternal organ, shocked as by the kick of a mule. Bad times on deck, Sir, he said, this drinkings all to the bad. He leered comically through his clothes and blacken eyelids, and tried to smile, but it was too painful, and his face straightened. Why what has happened? Inquired Demon. I heard the row but couldn't see nothing serious, Sir, answered Billings, except

to me, say, sir, that woman aft. Keep away from her. Take it from me, sir. She's a bad one. Got a punch like a battering ram. Did you ever get the big end of a handspike jammed into your face by a big man? Sir, Well, that's the kind of punch she has. Billings departed and Demon grinned maliciously while he ate his dinner, and after Billings had taken away the dishes, with more comments on the woman's terrible punch, Deadmon went out into the wardroom intending to

visit Miss Floury. A glance overhead stopped him and sent him back The lover's point on the telltale marked due west northwest end of chapter eleven, Chapter twelve of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter twelve. He sat down to think. Sampson had hinted at big things, talked about buildings,

had spoken of a vote to stay at sea or not. However, there could have been no vote, as billions last visit, because of their condition. But Forsyth had in dubabally taken chronometer sites in the morning, and being most certainly sober, had doubtless worked them out and ascertained the longitude, which, with a meridian observation at noon, would give him the position of the yacht. The big things require our vote, We're all in Forsyth's head.

He had merely anticipated the vote, not only their position himself. Except as indicated by the trade wind clouds Denmon can only surmise that a west northwest course would hit the American coast somewhere between Boston and Charleston. But what they wanted there was beyond his comprehension. He gave up the puzzle at last and visited Floory, finding her dressed swathed in a bandage and sitting in the outer apartment. Reading briefly. He explained the occurrences on the deck, and as

all was quiet, now asked of a step up and investigate. She did so and returned. Forsyth is steering, she said, and two or three are awake but staggering around, and several others are asleep on the deck. Well, he said, hopefully. Forsythe evidently can control himself, but not the others if they remain drunk or get drunker. I mean to do something tonight. No use trying now. What will you do, Billy, she asked, with concern in her voice. I don't know. I'll only know

when I get at it. I hope that forsythe will load up too. Hello, what's up? Run up, Florian? Look? The engine had stopped and Forsyth's fury as an effective could be heard. Florrie ran up the steps, peeped out, and returned. He is swearing at someone, she said, so it seems, said denman. Let me have a look. He ascended and carefully peeped over the companion hood. Forsyth was looking down the engine room hatch, and his voice came clear and distinct, as he had

anathematized the engineers below. Shut off your oil, you drunken mutts, peopleciferated. If the whole four you can't keep steam on the steering gear, shut it off, all of it. I say, shut off every burner and get into your bunks, to your silver. Then Samson's deep voice rose from the hatch. You'll stop talking like that to me, my lad, before long, he said, or all break some of your bones. Shut off

the oil every burner, reiterated Forsyth. We'll drift for a while. Right, you are saying out another voice, which Damon recognized as Dwires, And here you're booming, crank. Take a drink and get into a good humor. Pass it up. Then I need a drink by this time. But shut off that oil, demon saw. Forsyth reached down and bring up a bottle, from which took a deep draft. The electric lights slowly dimmed in

the cabin, indicating the slowing down of the Dynamo engine. Then he went out, demon descended, uneasy in mine, into the half darkness of the cabin. He knew, for when he had learned of Forsyth, that the first drink would lead to the second and the third, and then his example would influence the rest to further drinking. But he gave none of his fears to Floory. He simply bade her go into a room and locked the door. Then he went to his own room against the possible advent of buildings supper

time, But there was no supper for any that evening. Long before the time for it, pandemonium raged above in the loudest Angry's voice was that of Forsyth, until toward the last Sampson's voice rose above it, And as a dull thud on the deck came to Denon's ears, he knew that his fist had silenced it. Evidently the sleeping men had wakened to further quotations, and

at last the stumbling feet of some of them approached the stern. Then again King Sampson's voice, come back here, he roared, Keep away from that companion the law of you, or I'll give you what I gave Forsyth.

A burst of invective and malediction answered him, and then there were the sounds of lamplict, even the crashing of fists, as well as the thuds on the deck coming to demon through the deadlight for we y'all, continued Sampson between the sounds of impact, and soon the shuffling of feet indicated a retreat. Denman, who had opened his door ready for a rush to Floy's defense, now went aft to reassure her. She opened the door at his tap and

his voice through the keyhole. It's all right for the present, Flory, he said, while Sampson is sober, they won't come aft again. Oh, Billy, she gasped, I hope, so, don't deserve me. Billy, don't worry, he said, reassuringly. They'll all be stupid before long, and then tonight there will be something doing on our side. Now, I must be in my room when Billings comes, or until I'm sure and he will not come, and you stay here. I'll be on hand

if anything happens. He went back to his room, but Billings did not come with his supper, and one by one the voices above grew silent, and their shuffling footsteps ended in thuds as their owners dropped the deck. And when darkness had closed down and all above was still, demon crept out to reconnoiter. He reached the door leading to the Captain's room. It was just about to open it when a scream came to his ears. Billy, Billy, come, come quick help. Then a tense voice, Shut up your

noise in there and open the door. I don't want to have a talk with you. Demon was in the room before the voice had ceased, and then the darkness barely made out the figure of a man fumbling at the knob of the stateroom door. He knew, as much by intuition as by recognition of the voice, that it was Forsyth, and without a word of warning, sprang in his throat with an oath. Forsyth gripped him, and they swayed back and forth in a small cabin, locked together and embraced as strained

muscles and sinews to the utmost. Forsyth expended breath and energy in curses. Demon said nothing until Florrie screamed again. Then he found voice to call out, all right, Floorie, I've got him. She remained silent while the battle continued. At first, there was a wrestling match, each with the right arm around the body of the other, and with Demon's left hand gripping

Forsight's left wrist. Their left hands swayed about above their heads to the right, to the left, and down between the close pressure of their chests. Devon soon found that he was the stronger of arm, for he twisted his enemy's arm around as he pleased. But he also found that he was not stronger of fingers, for suddenly forsyights broke away from his grip and seized tightly the rist of Denmon thus reversed. The battle continued, and as they reeled

about, chairs, table and desk were overturned, making a ragget. As the compatents stumbled around over and among them that would have aroused all hands had they been but normally asleep. As it was, there was no interruption, and the two battled out in the darkness to an end. It came soon. Forsyth suddenly released his clasp on Demon's wrist and gripped his throat. Then suddenly he brought his right hand up, and Demon felt the pressure of his

thumb to his right eyeball. He was being choked and gouged, and strangely enough, in this exigency, there came to him no thought of the trick by which he had mastered Jenkins, But instead he mustered his strength pushed Forsyth from him and struck out blindly. It was a lucky blow, for his eyes were filled lights of various hue and he could not see yet. His fist caught Forsyth on the chin, and demon heard him crash back over the

upturned table. Forsyth uttered no sound, and when a light had gone out of his eyes, deadmon groped for him and found him just beginning to move. He groaned and sat up. End of chapter twelve thirteen of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia Chesterfield, New Jersey, chapter thirteen. No you don't, said Denman grimly. Fair play is wasted on you, So back you go to

the land of nod. He drew back his right fist and again sent it crashing on the chin of his victim, whom we can just see in the starlight from the companion, and Forsyth rolled back. Like Jenkins. He had arrayed himself in an officer's uniform. There was no convenient neckerchief which to bind him. But then and then took his own and securely tied his hands behind his back. And with another string tied from his room, tied his ankles together. Then only did he think of Floory and called to her. She

answered hysterically, it's all right, Floory girl. He said, it was Forsyth, but I've knocked him silly and have him tied hand and foot. Go to sleep now. I can't go to sleep, Billy, she wailed. I can't. Don't leave me alone anymore. I must Floory, he answered, I'm going on deck to get them all. I'll never have a better chance. Keep quiet and don't come out no matter what you hear. But come back soon, Billy, she pleaded. I will as soon as

I can, but stick quiet in there until I do. He stole softly

up the stairs and looked forward. The stars illuminated the decks, efficiently for him to see the prostrate forms that scattered about, but not enough for him to distinguish one from another until he had crept close the big machinist Sampson, he found nearest to the companion, as though he had picked this spot to guard, even in drunken sleep, the sacred after Gavin Demon's heart felt a little twinge of pain as he softly untied and withdrew the big Fill's neckerchief and

bound his hands behind him. Sampson snored on through the process the same with the others. Kelly, Daniels, and Billings lay near the afterfall. Munson, Casey, Dwyer and King were in the scuppers and midships. Riley he was in. Hawks were huddled close to the pilot house, and not a man moved in protests as Demon bound them one and all with their own neckerchiefs. There was one more, the stricken Jenkins, in the forecastle, and

Demon descended and examined him by the light of a match. He was awake and blinked and grimaced at Denman, striving to speak sorry for you, Jenkins said, Billy, you'll get well in time, but you have to wait. You're harmless enough now. However, there was more to do before he felt secure his victory. He must tie their ankles, and as Neckertius had run out, he sought, by the light of matches the bos'n's logger in

the four peak. There he found spun yarn, and cutting enough lengths of it, he came up and finished a job, tying us so hard and seemingly that the strongest fingers of a fellow prisoner could not untie them. Then he went aft. Forsyth was still unconscious, but he regained his senses while them and dragged him up the steps and forward beside his enemy Samson, and

he admitted various sulfurous comments on the situation that cannot be recorded here. Demon wanted the weapons, but with engines dead, there was no light saved from his very small supply of matches, and for the simple and perhaps very natural desire to save these for his cigar lights, he forbore a search for them.

Beyond an examination of each man's pockets, he found nothing. However, it seemed that they might have agreed upon disarmament before the drinking began, But from Forsyth he secured a bunch of keys, which he was to find useful later on. All else was well. Each man was bound hand and foot, Jenkins was still living corpse, and Forsyth, the soberest of the lot, had apparently succumbed to the hard knocks of the day and gone to sleep

again. So Demon went down, held the jubilant conversations with Floory through the keyhole, and returned to the deck, where with a short spanner in his hand, replevin from the engine room for us in case of an emergency. He spent the night on watch four, with all the lights out. A watch was necessary, but nothing happened. The men snored away their drunkenness,

and at daylight most of them were awake and aware of their plight. Demon paid no attention to their questions, but when a light permitted, went on a search for the arms and irons, which he found in the forecastle, carefully stowed in a bunk. He counted the pistols and satisfied himself that they were all there. Then he carried them aft to his room, belted himself with one of them, and returned for the cutlasses, which he hid in another room. But the irons he spread along the deck, and while they

cursed him aligned him. He replaced the silk and spun yard fetters with manacles of steel. Next, he dragged protesting prisoners from forward and aft until he had them all bunched a midships, and, then, walking back and forth before them, delivered a short comprehensive lecture on the unwisdom of stealing to a pedo boat destroyers and getting drunk like all lecturers, He allowed his audience to answer, and when he refuted the last argument, he unlocked the irons of

Billings and Daniels and sternly ordered them to cook breakfast. They meekly arose and went to the galley, from which before long savory odors arose, and while waiting for breakfast, Demon aroused Miss Florey and brought her on deck, clothed and bandaged, to show her his catch. And what will you do now, Billy, she asked, as she looked at the unhappy men amidships, having to slayed his idea. They've got to think it out. I off to release some of them to work the boat, and off to shut down

and iron them while I sleep. I suppose I've already freed the two cooks. I'm a lot of breakfast soon. I'm glad of that, she answered, There was no supper last night, and hungry as a wolf myself. Well, they are hungry too. We'll have our breakfast on deck before they get theirs. Perhaps the site will bring them to terms. Why could not I help, Billy asked the girl. I could watch while you were asleep

and wake you if anything happened. Oh no, Florrie girl. Of course, I'll throw the stuff overboard, but I wouldn't trust some of them drunk or sober. Billings soon reported breakfast ready and asked how you should serve the captives. Do not serve them at all, said Demon. Sharply, bring the cabin table on deck and place it on a starboard quarter. Serve breakfast for two, and you and Daniels eat your own in the galley. Very

good, sir, answered to subdued Billings. With a glance at the long blue revolver at Demon's waist, he departed, and, with Daniel's help, arranged the breakfast as ordered. Florrie was forced to remove her bandage, but as she faced aft at the table, her face was visible to Demon only he faced forward, and while he ate, he watched the men who squirm as the appetizing odors of broiled ham, corn bread and coffee assailed their nostrils

on each countenance. Besides the puffed blow to the appearance coming of heavy and unaccustomed drinking, was a look of anxiety and disquiet. But they were far from being conquered in spirit. At least breakfast over Demons and Flory below ordered the dishes and table below, and again put the irons on Billings and Daniels. Then he went on them. What do you mean to do, asked Forsyth sirily, as Demon looked down on him. Keep us here and starve

us. I will keep you in irons while I have the power, answered Demon, No matter what I may do with the others. Sampson, he said to the big machinist, you played a man's part last night, and I feel strongly in favor of releasing you on parole. You understand the nature of parole, do you not? Well? I do, sir, answered the big fellow thickly, and if I give it, I would stick to

it. What are the conditions, sir, that you stand watch and watch with me while we take this boat back to Boston, That you aid me in keeping this crowd and subjection, that you do your part in protecting the Lady Aft from annoyance. In return, I promise you my influence at Washington. I have some and can arouse more. You will, in all probability be pardoned. No, sir, answered Samson promptly. I am one of this crowd. You are not one of us. I wouldn't deserve a pardon

if I went back on my mates, even this dog alongside me. He's one of us too, And while I have smashed him, and we'll smash him again, I will not accept my liberty while he or any of the others is in irons. Demon bowed load to him and went on. He questioned only a few those who seemed trustworthy, but met with the same response, and he left them troubled in mind. End of chapter three, chapter fourteen of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public

domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey. Chapter fourteen. He sat down in the deck chair and loaded the cigars and aid to his mental processes. Three projects presented themselves to his mind, each of which included, of course, the throwing overboard of the liquor and the secure hiding of

the arms, except the pistol for himself and one for Flory. The first was to release them all, and backed by his pistol, his uniform, and the power of the government to treat them as mutineers and shoot them if they defied or disobeyed him to This was the logical objection that they were already

more than mutineers, but there was no future for them. That, even though he overawed and conquered them, compelling them to work the boat shoreward, each passing minute would find them more keen to revolt, and that if they rushed him in a body I can only halt a few, the others would master him. The second plan was born of his thoughts before breakfast. It was to release one cook, one engineer, and one helmsman at a time to guard them until sleep was necessary, then to shut off steam, lock

them up, and allow the boat to drift while they slept. Against this plan was the absolute necessity to seem his mind of a watch, even a one man watch, and this one man could work mischief while he slept, could, even if handy with tools, file out a key that would unlock the shackles. The third plan was to starve them to contrition and subjection, torturing them the while with the odors of food cooked for himself and floory.

But this was an inhuman expedient only to be considered as a last resource. And besides, it would not affect a man doing the cooking. He can keep himself well fed and obdurate and even though they surrendered and worked their way back to our prison, whether surrender last beyond a couple of good meals? He thought, not get out of this plan came another, and he went

down to the companion floory. He called, can you cook? She appeared at the stateroom door without her bandages, smiling at his query, and for the moment demon forgot all about his plans. But the pink tinge still overspread her face. The blisters were gone, and in the half light of the cabin it'd shone with a new beauty that had not appeared to him in the garrets sunlight. When I breakfast, When he was intent upon watching the men, his heart gave a sudden jump, and his voice was a little unsteady

as he repeated the question. Welly, yes, Billy, she answered, I know something about cooking, not much, though, Will you cook for yourself and me? He asked? If so, I'll keep the men locked up and will wait for something to come along. I will, she said, But you must keep them locked up, Billy. I'll do that and fit you out with a pistol too. I'll get you one now. He brought her a revolver loaded with a further supply of cartridges and fitted the belt

about her waist. Then, his heart still jumping, he went on deck love her, he mused, joyously. Of course, why didn't I think of it before? But that was work to be done, and he set himself about it. He searched the storerooms and expected the forecastle. In the first he found several cases of liquor, also a barrel of hard bread. In the forecastle, he found that the water supply was furnished by a small faucet on the after bulkhead. Trying it, he found a clear flow.

Then he selected from his bunch of keys the one belonged to the forecastle door and put it in the lock outside. Next, with a few cautionary remarks to the men, he unlocked their wrist irons one by one, and, after making each man place his hands in front, relocked the irons. Now Then he said, standing over the last man, you can help yourselves and jenkins to bread and water. One by one, Get up on your feet and pass into the forecastle. If any man needs help, I will assist

him. Some managed to scrambled to their feet unaided, while others could not. These demon helped, but as he assisted them with one hand holding his pistol in the other. There was no demonstration against him with double fists, which is possible and potential. Mumbling and muttering, they floundered down the small hatch and forward into the forecastle. The last in line with Samson, and Denman stopped him of a job for you, Sampson, He said, after

the brest had disappeared, you were the strongest man in the crowd. Go down the hatch, but after the storeroom and get the barrel of hard bread into the forecastle. You can do it without my unlocking you. Very good, sir, answered Sampson respectfully, and descended demon washed him from above, as with his manacled hands, he twirled the heavy barrel forward and into the men's quarters, shut the door, turned the key on them, and come aft here, he commanded. Sampson obeyed. Now lift up on the deck

and then toss overboard every case of liquor in that storeroom. Very good, sir, and up came six cases, as easily in his powerful grip as thought they had been bandboxes. And then he hoisted his own huge bulk to the deck over the side with them all commanded Denman. Sampson picked them up, and whether or not it came from temper, threw them from where he stood above and beyond the rail. But the fifth struck the rail and fell back to the deck. He advanced and threw it over. Carry the other

one, said Denman, and Samson lifted it up. It was a low skeleton rail, and as the big man hobbled toward it, somehow neither he nor Demon ever knew how, his foot slipped, and he and the box went overboard together. The box floated, but when Samson came to the surface it was out of his reach. He gurgled, I can't swim Without a thought. Demon laid his pistol on the deck, shed his coat, and

dove overboard, reaching the struggling man in three strokes. Keep still, he commanded, as he got behind and secured a light but secure grip on Sampson's hair. Tridwater if you can, but don't struggle, I'll tell you back to the boat. But those Sampson grew quiet, and Demon succeeded in reaching the dark steel side. There was nothing to catch hold of, not a trailing rope, nor eyebowl, nor even the open deadlights, for they were

high out of reach. The crew were locked in the forecastle and there was only floorry. There was no wind, and only the long, heaving ground swell, which rolled the boats slightly, but not enough to bring those tantalizing deadlights within reach. And at last, at the sound of dishes rattling the galley, Denman called out, floury. He shouted, floury, Come on deck, throw a rope over. Floury, Oh, floury. End of

chapter fourteen, Chapter fifteen of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter fifteen. She came hurriedly and peered over the rail with a startled, frightened expression. Then she screamed, can you see any ropes lying on deck? Floory called Denman, if you can throw one over. She disappeared for a moment, then came back and cried out frantically, No, there

is nothing, no ropes. What shall I do? Go down and get the tablecloth, said Denman as calmly as he could, with his nose just out of water and a big, heavy, frightened man bearing him down.

Florey vanished and soon reappeared with the tablecloth of the morning's breast. There was a cloth of generous size as she lowered it over tie one corner to the rail floory, said Denman, while he held the irresponsible Samson away from the still frail support, she bade him y the not that all women tie, which no sailor can name, and then Deadman led his man up to it. Sampson clutched it with both hands, drew it taught, and supported his

weight on it. Fortunately, the not slip demon also held himself up by it until he had recovered his breath. Then cast about for means of getting

on board. He felt that the hiplecloth would not bear his weight and that of his water soil clothing, and temporarily gave up the plan of climbing it forward with the signal halliards, and they too were of a small line, and even if doubled again and again until strong enough, he knew by experienced the wonderful strength of arm required in climbing out of water hand over hand. This thought also removed the tablecloth from the problem, but suggested another by its

association with the necessity of feet then climbing with wet clothes. He remembered that forward just under the anchor davit was a small fixed ladder bolted into the bow of the boat for use in getting the anchor. So, cautioning Samson not to let go, he swam forward, with Florrie's frightened face following above and reaching the ladder easily climbed on board. He was on the high forecastle deck, but the girl had reached it before him. Billie, she exclaimed,

as she approached him. Oh, Billy. He caught her just as her face grew white and her figure limp and forgot Samson for the moment. The kisses he planted on her lips and cheek forestalled the faith, the spell, and she roused herself. I thought you would drown, Billy, she said, weakly, with her face of a deeper pink than he had seen. Don't drown, Billy, Don't do that again. Don't leave me alone. I won't floory, he answered, stoutly and smilingly. I'm born to be

hanged. You know I won't drown. Come on, I must get Samson. They descended Devon, picking up his pistol on the way, and found Sampson quietly waiting at the end of the table cloth. With his life temper really safe, his natural courage had come to him. I'm going to tell you forward to the anchor ladder, Samson. Go off the climate the best way you can, for there isn't a purchase on board that will bear your

weight. Hold tight now, he untied floor. He's not, and slowly dragged the big man forward, experiencing a check at the break of the forecastle, where he had the halt and piece out the tablecloth with a length of signal halliards. But finally Sampson got to the ladder. Sampson had some trouble in mounting, for shackles would not permit one hand to reach up to a wrong without letting go with the other, but he finally accomplished the feet and

floundered over the rail, where he sat undecked to recover himself. Finally he scrambled to his feet. Mister Denman, he said, you saved my life for me. Whatever I can do for you, except his face took out a look of embarrassment. Except going back on my mates, as I said I would do at any time of my life. That was what I might have suggested, answered demon calmly that you aid me in controlling this crew until

we reached Boston. I cannot, sir. There's prison for life for all of us if we were taken and this crowd will break out, Sir, mark my words, you won't have charge very long. But in that case, I mean, I might be of service. I can control them all, even Forsyth when I'm awake, Forsyth Grinnen demon. You can thank Forsyth for your roundup. If he hadn't remained sober enough to attempt to break into Missfleming's room while you were all dead drunk, I might not have knocked him

out. I might not have roused myself to tie you all hand and foot. Did he do that, Sir asked Sampson, his rugged features darkening. He did, But I got there in time to knock him out, well, Sir, said Sampson. I can promise you this much. I must be locked up, of course, I realized that. But if we again get charged, I must be asleep part of the time, and so I will see to it. They retained possession of your gun, and the lady too, but they see she carries one. Also, Sir, that you

will have the run of the deck on parole. Of course, that's kind of you, smiled demon. But I don't mean to let you take charge. It is bread and water for you all until something comes along to furnish me a crew. Come on, Sam to the forecastle. Sampson preceded them down the steps, down the hatch and to the forecastle door, through which Denman admitted him, then relocked the door and bunched the key with the others.

Then he joined Floury, where she had awaited amidships. Now, then, Flory girl, he said, jubilantly, you can have the use of the deck and go and come as you like. I'm going to turn in. You see, I was awake all night. Are they secured safely, Billy, she asked, tremulously got them all in the forecastle in double irons with plenty of hard attack and water. We needn't bother about them anymore.

Just keep your eyes open for a sail or smoke on the horizon, and if you see anything call me. I will, she answered, and I'll have dinner ready at noon. That's good. A few hours sleep will be enough, and I'll try and polish up what I once learned about wireless and say Florrie, next time you go below, look in the glass and see how nice you look. She turned her back to him, and he went

down. In five minutes he was asleep, and as he slipped off into unconsciousness, there came to his mind the thought that one man in the forecastle was not manacled. And when Florrie wakened him at noon, the thought was still with him, but he dismissed it. Jenkins was helpless for a while, unable to move or speak, and need not be considered. End of chapter fifteen. Chapter sixteen of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording

is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter sixteen. Florrie had proven herself a good cook, and they ate dinner together. Then Denman went on deck. The boat was still rolling on a calm sea, but the long, steady, low moving hills of blue were now mingled with a cross swell from the northwest, which indicated the push

from beyond the horizon not connected with the trade wind. And in the west a low bank of cloud rose up from and merged its lower edge with the horizon, while still higher shown up mackerel sky and mare's tail clouds sure index of coming wind, but there was nothing on the horizon in the way of sale or smoke, and anticipating another long night watch, he began preparations for it. Three red lights at the mastheadward needed as a signal that the boat

a steamer, was not under command. These he found in the lamp room. He filled, trimmed, and brigged them to the signal halliards on the bridge, ready for hoisting at nightfall. Then for a day signal of distress, he hoisted an ensign Union down at the small yard aloft. Next thing his mind came to wish to know his position, and he examined the log book. Forsyth had made an attempt to start a record, and out of his crude efforts, hevn't picked the figures which he had noted down as the

latitude and longitude at noon of the day before. He corrected this with the boat's course throughout the afternoon until the time was shutting off the oil feed, and added the influence of a current, which is more expert knowledge told him of thirty one north and fifty five forty west was the approximate position and he jotted it down. This done, he thought of the possibility of lighting the

boat through the night and sought the engine room. He was put a theoretical engineer, having to vote at most of his studies to the duties of a line officer, but he mastered in a short time the management of the small gas engine that worked at Dynamo, and soon had it going. Electric bulbs in the engine room sprang into life, and after watching the engine for a short time, he decided that it required only occasional inspection and sought the deck.

The cross seat was increasing and the bank to the northwest was larger and blacker, while the mayor's tales and mackerel scales had given way to serious clouds that raced across the sky. Damp gusts of wind blew cold and heavy against his cheek, and he knew that a storm was coming that would try out a low built craft to the last of its powers. But before it came, he would polish up his forgotten knowledge of wireless telegraphy and searched the wireless

room for books. He found everything, but what he wanted most the code book, by which he could furbish up dots and dashes. Angry and his bad memory, he studied the apparatus, founded him working order, and left the task to go on deck. An increased ruling of the boat threatened the open deadlights. Trusting that the men in the forecastle were close theirs, he attended to all the others, then sought Floury in the galley, where she

had just finished the washing of the dishes. Her face was not pale, but there was a wild look in her eyes, and she was somewhat unsteady on her feet. Oh, billy, I'm sick, sea sick, she said weakly. I'm a poor sailor. Go to bed, little girl, he said gently. We're gonna have some bad weather, but we're all right, so stay in bed. He supported her after the wardroom to her stateroom door. In the after Kevin, I'll get supper florry, and if you can eat, I'll bring you some. Lie down now, and don't get

up until I call you, or until you feel better. He again sought the deck. The wind now came steadily, while the whole sky above and the sea about were assuming the gray hue of a gale. He closed all hatches and companions, taking a peep down into the engine room before closing it

up. The dynamo was buzzing. Finally, a few splashes of rain fell on him, and they clothed himself in oilskins and robber boots to watch out the gale, choosing to remain halft, whereas footsteps over her might reassure that, he said, grow below instead of the bridge, where it would have

placed himself under normal conditions. The afternoon wore on, each hour, marked by a heavier pressure of the wind and an increasing height to the seas, which, at first just lapping at the rail, now lifted up and washed across the deck. The boat old somewhat, but not the act of his

discomfort or that of those below. But there were no loose articles on deck to be washed overboard, so Denman paced the deck, occasionally peeping down the engine room hatch at the dynamo, and again trying the drift by the old fashioned chip and reel log at the stern. When tired, he would sit down in the depth chair, which he had wedged between the after torpedo and the taffrail, then resumed his pacing. As darkness closed down, he sought

Florrie's door and asked her if she would eat something. She was too ill, she said, and knowing that no words could comfort her, he left her and in the galley eat his own supper, tinned meat, bread and coffee. Again the deck the minute, pacing and resting in the chair.

The gale became a hurricane in the occasional squalls, but at these times the sea were beaten to a level of creamy frought luminous with a phosphorescent blow, while the boat's rolling motion would give way to a stiff inclination to starboard of fully ten degrees. Then the squalls would pass, the seas rise the higher for the momentary suppression, and the boat resumed her wallowing, rolling, both rails under and practically underwater except for the high forecastle deck, the funnels,

and the companions. Denman did not worry with the wind northwest. The storm center was surely to the north and eastward of him, and he knew that, according to the laws of storms in the North Atlantic, it would move away from him and out to sea, And so it continued until about midnight, when he heard the rasping of the companion hood, then saw Florrie's face peering out. He sprang to the companion. Billy, oh, billy, she said plaintively. Let me come up here with you, but you'll feel

better lying down, Dear, he said, better go back. It's so close and hot down here. Please let me come up. Why, yes, Florrie, if you like, but wait until I figure out come down a moment. They descended, and he found rubber boots a Southwester, and a long oil skin coat, which she donned in their room. Then he brought up another chair, lashed it with more neckt eyes to his own,

and seated her in it. Don't be frightened, he said, as a sea clawed on board and washed aft, nearly flooding their rubber boots, and listening a little scream from the girl, We're safe and the wind will blow out in a few hours. He seated himself beside her as they faced a leeward The long brims of the Southwesters sheltered their faces from a blast of rain and spume, permitting conversation. But they did not converse for a time.

Demon only reached up inside a long sleeve of her big coat toward her small hand, nestled soft and warm in its shelter. He squeezed it gently, but there was no answering pressure, and he contented himself withholding it. He was a good sailor, but a poor lover, and a reeling, water washed deck in a gill of wind is an embarrassing obstacle to love making.

Yet he squeezed again. After ten minutes of silence had gone by, and several seas had bombarded their feet, still no response in kind, and he spoke, Floury, he said, as gently as he could, when he was compelled to shout. Do you remember the letter you sent me the other day? The other day? She answered? Why? It seems like years since then last week, Floury, it made me feel like like thirty cents. Why, Billy, Oh, the unwritten roast from the lines, little

girl, I knew what you thought of me. I knew that I'd never made good. How what do you mean about the years ago? I was to come back and look him, you know, and didn't. That's all? Are you still thinking of that? Billy? What you've won? You're an officer while he is a sailor. Yes, but he looked me at school, and I know you expected me to come back, and you did not come back. You never let me hear from you. You might have been dead for years before I could know it. Is that it, Florrie,

He exclaimed, in amazement. Was it me you thought of? I suppose you had grown to despise me. She had not answered this, but when he again pressed her hand, she responded. Then over the sounds of the storm, he heard a little sob, and, reaching over, drew her close to his and kissed her. I'm sorry, Floory, but I didn't know. I've loved you all these years, but I did not know it until a few days ago. And I'll never forget it, Floory. And I promise you and myself too, that I'll still make good as I

promised before. Poor lover, though he was he had one. She did not answer, but her own small hand reached for his, and so they passed the night until just as a light or gray shone in the east, he noticed the one of the red lamps the signal yard had gone out. As the lights were still necessary, he went forward to lower them, but just as he was about to mount the bridge stairs, a crashing blow from

two heavy fists, and in headlong and senseless to the deck. When he came to he was bound hand and foot as he had bound the men with neckerchiefs and lay close to the forward funnel with the whole thirteen Jenkins and all looking down at him. But Jenkins was not speaking. Forsyth, searching demon's pockets, was doing all at the occasion required. End of chapter sixteen, Chapter seventeen of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the

public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter seventeen. When Sampson had entered the forecastle after his rescue by Denman, he found a few of his mates in their bunks, the rest sitting around in disconsolate postures, some holding their aching heads, others looking indifferently at him with bleary eyes. The apartment, long and triangular in shape, was dimly lighted by four deadlights, two each side, and for a moment Sampson cannot distinguish one

from another. Where's my bag? He demanded, generally, I want dry clothes. He groped his way to the bunk he had occupied, found his clothes bag, and drew out a complete change of garments. Who's got a knife was his next request, and as no one answered, he repeated the demand in a louder voice. What do you want of a knife, asked forsythe with a slight snarl. To cut your throat, you hang dog scoundrel, said Sampson irately. Forsyth, you speak kindly and gently to me while

we're together, or I'll break some of you small bones. Who's got a knife? Here's one, Sampson said Hawks, offering one of the square bladed jack knives used in the navy. All right, Hawks, now you stand up and rip these wet duds off me. I can't get them off with the darbies in the way. Hawks stood up and obeyed him. Soon the dripping garments fell away, and Sampson rubbed himself dry with the towel while Hawks sleepily turned in. What kept you and what happened? Asked Kelly? Did

any DAUSI with a bucket of water? Sampson did not answer at once, not until he had slashed the side seams of a whole new suit and crawled into it. Then, as he began fasten to get on with buttons and strings, he said coldly, worse than that he's made me his friend, his friend queried two or three His friend repeated Sampson, not exactly while he has me locked up, he added, but if I ever get out again, that's all. And his friend in some ways while I'm here, do

you hear that? Forsyth. Forsyth did not answer, and Samson went on, and not only his friend, but the woman's too here that Forsyth. Forsyth refused to answer. That's right, and proper went on Samson as he fastened the last button, hide your head and saw wood the snake eyed imitation of a man. What's up, Sampson, We really, asked Casey from a bunker. What dast you? What you got on? Forsyth? Now I'll tell you in good time, responded Simpson. I'll tell you now about

denman. I throw all the booze overboard at his orders. Then I tumbled over, and as I can't swim, would have been there yet if he hadn't jumped after me, then we couldn't get up the side, and the woman came in the tablecloth that held me until I was towed to the anchor ladder. That's all. I just want to hear one of you ginks say a word about the woman that she wouldn't like to hear. That's for you all, and for you Forsyth a little more in good time. Bully for

the woman, growled old Kelly. Wonder if we traded her right? We treated her as well as we knew how, said Sampson. That is all but one of us. But I've promised Denman and the woman threw him. I they'll have a better show if we get charge again. I forget it, grunted Forsyth from his bunk. She's no good. She's been stuck on

that baby since she was a kid. Samson went toward him, seized him by the shirt collar, and pulled him bodily from the bunk, then smother his protesting voice by a grip in his throat, slatted him from side to side as a farmer uses a flail, and threw him headlong against the after bookhead and halfway into an empty bunk. Samson had uttered no word, and Forsyth only muttered as he crawled back to his own bunk. But he found courage to say, what do you pick on me for? If you hadn't

all got drunk, you wouldn't be here. You mean, said Sampson quietly, that if you hadn't remained sober enough to find your way into the aftercabin, and frightened the woman. We wouldn't have been here, for that's what roused Denmon. A few oaths and growls followed this, and men sat up in their bunks, well, those that were out of their bunks stood up. Sampson sat down. Is that so, Sampson got that right? Old man? Sure of it? They asked, And then over the hubbub of

profane indignation rose Forsythe's voice. Who gave you that? Yelled Denmon. Yes, Denman, answered Sampson. He lied. I did nothing of a You lie yourself, you dog. You're shown on your chin the marks of Denman's fist. You did that just now, answered Forsyth, fingering a small bleeding bruise. I didn't hit you. I choked you. Denman knocked you out, well, answered Forsyth, forgetting the first accusation in light of his last. It was a lucky blow in the dark. He couldn't do it in

a daylight. Self convicted, said Sampson quietly. Then, for a matter of ten minutes, the air in nicost apartment might have smelt sulfurous to one strange to forecastle a discourse. Forsyth, his back toward them, listen quietly while they called him all the names printable and unprintable, which angry and disgusted

men may think of. But when it had ended, when a last voice had silenced, and the last man gone to the waterfawcet for a drink before turning in, Forsyth said, I'll even things up with you fellows if I get on deck again. Only a few grunts answered him, and soon all were asleep. They waken one by one in the afternoon to find the electric bulbs glowing and the boat rolling heavily, while splashes of rain came in through

the weather deadlights. These they closed, and better humored after their sleep, and hungry as well, they attacked the barrel of bread and the water fawcet he started the dynamo, or Mark Riley, one of the engineers, Why don't he start the end and keep her head to the sea, because he knows too much, came a horse whisper, and he turned to Jenkins,

who was sitting up regarding them disapprovingly. Because he knows too much, he repeated in the same horse whisper, this is a so called seagoing destroyer. But no one but a fool would buck one into a head seat. And that's what's coming with a big blow too. Remember the English boat that broke her back in the North Sea. Hello Jenkins, you alive, answered one, and others asked of his health. I'm pretty near all right, he said to them. I've been able to move and speak a little for twenty

four hours. But I saved my energy. I wasn't sure of myself though, or I didn't nabbed deadman when he came in here for the pistols, as he got them queered or few, and they examined the empty bunk. He sure has, they continued, got them all. We're in for it, not necessarily, said Jenkins. I've listened to all this pow wow, and I gather that you got drunk to the last man, and he gathered

you in. That's about it, Jenkins, assented Sampson. We all got gloriously drunk, and before you got drunk, you made this pinheaded educated rat. He jerked his thumb towards Forsyth, your commander. Well, we needed a navigator and you were out of commissioner, Jenkins. I'm in commission now, though when we get on deck, we'll still have a navigator and it won't be Denman either. What do you mean began for safe that you'll take charge again and make yes, said Jenkins. Make you navigate, Make you

navigate under orders and under fear of punishment. You're the worst hammered man in this crowd, but hammering doesn't improve you. You'll be keelholed or triced up by the thumbs, or spread eagle over a boiler. But you'll navigate now. Shut up. There was silence for a while, then one said, you spoke about getting on deck again. Jenkins got the plan. I want to go on deck now and watching this storm. Jenkins retorted, no, not unless necessary, and get in your bunk and wait for this to blow

over. If there's any real need of us, Denman will call us out. This was good slily logic, and they climbed back into their bunks to smoke, to read, or to talked himself to sleep again. As the wind and sea arose, they closed the other two deadlights, and my Darkness closed down. They turned out all the dazzling bulbs and slept through the night as only sailors can. Just before daylight, Jacob has lifted his big bulk out of the bunk, and taking a key from his pocket, unlocked the

forecastle door. He stepped into the passage and found the hatch loose on the combings. Then came back and quietly wakened them all. I found the skin in the deck near the door first day aboard, he volunteered, but put it in my pocket instead of the door. They softly crept into the passage and lifted the hatch. But it was the impressible and most certainly courageous Forsyth

who was the first to climb up. He reached the deck just in time to dodge into the darkness behind the bridge ladder at the sight of Demon coming forward to attend to the lamps. And it was he who sent both fists in the side of Demon's face with force enough to knock him senseless. Then came the others and of chapter seventeen. Chapter eighteen of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia,

Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter eighteen. That'll do, Forsyth, said Sampson, interrupting the flow of Billingsgate will admit prayers and flowers at this funeral stand up. Forsyth arose, waving two bunches of keys, and Devon's revolver got on foul. He yelled excitedly, all the keys and his gun. All right, just hand that gun to meet what you won't forsythe that backed away at the command, but Samson sprang upon him and easily disarmed him.

Now, my lad, he said sternly, just find the key of these derbies and unlock us. Forsyth, muttering, got one good smashing him anyhow, found the key of the handcuffs, and first unknocking his own, went the rounds. Then he found the key of the leg irons, and soon they were all free, and the minacles tossed down the hatch to be gathered later. Then Big Jenkins reached his hand out to Forsyth, but not in a token of amnesty. The keys, he said, in a hoarse whisper,

aren't they safe enough? With me? Quivered Forsyth hotly. Jenkins still maintained the ostriched hand, and Forsyth lookally resolutely around. He saw no signs of sympathy. They were all closing in on him. And he meekly handed the two bunches to Jenkins, who pocketed them. Meanwhile, Sampson had lifted Dem into his feet, and as the boat still rolled heavily, he assisted him to the bridge stairs or he get a grip on the railing with his

fettered hands. Daylight had come and Demon could see Floury still seated in the deck chair, looking forward with frightened eyes. Jenkins stubb here a moment, said Sampson, and you other fellows keep back. Jenkins drew near. Did you hear in the forecastle? Sampson went on what I said about mister Demon saving my life, and that I promised him parole and the possession of his

gun in case we got charged again. Jenkins nodded, but said he broke his parole before, so would you under the same provocation forsythe called him a milk fed thief, wouldn't you have struck out? Jenkins nodded again, and Sampson continued, all right, my proposition is the place mister Demon under parole once more, to give him and a lady the run of the deck up after the galley hatch, and to leave them both the possession of their guns.

For self defense in case. He looked humorously around at the others. These are nubriates get drunk again. But the other guns, he has them somewhere. We want power of self defense too, mister Denman, said Sampson, turning to the prisoner. You've heard the conditions. Will you tell us where your arms are? And when you keep after the galley hatch you and the lady I will, answered Denman, on condition that you all and particularly your navigator keep forward to the galley hatch. We'll do that, sir,

except of course, in case of working or fighting ship. Now tell us where the guns are and we'll release you. Have a we something to say about this, inquired Forsyth. Well if you others grumbled the disapproval of the plan, No, you have not, answered Jenkins. His horse whispered, becoming a voice, not a one of you. Sampson, and I will be responsible for this, all right, then, responded Forsyth. But I'll carry my gun all the time. I'm not going to be shut down without

a white man's chance. You'll carry a gun, my son, said Sampson, when we give it to you, and then it won't be to shoot. Mister Denman, that's on your account. Remember that we're giving him a gun. Now, mister Denman, where are the pistols and toothpicks. The pistols are in my room, the cutlasses in the room opposite. You have the key aft all hands, ordered Jenkins, fumbling in his pockets for the

keys, and get the weapons away. They trooped and crowded down the wardroom, companion Sampson, lifting his cap politely to the girl in the chair. In a short time they reappeared, each man loaded down with pistols and cutlasses. They placed them in the forecastle, and when they had come up, Sampson released Demon's bonds. Now, sir, you are free. We'll keep our promises. Let me expect you to keep yours. Here's your gun,

mister Demon. Thank you, Sampson said Demon, pocketing the revolver and shaking his aching hands to circulate the blood. Of course, we are to keep our promises, even though he see things done that will raise your hair. Sir, what do you mean by that? Asked Denman, with sudden interest. Can't tell you anything, sir, except what you may know, or we'll know. This boat is not bound for the African coast. That's all sir go below the watch broken juggens Husky voice two stations the rest end of

chapter eighteen nineteen of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter nineteen. What happened, Billy, asked Florrie as Denman joined her. Not much, florry, he replied, as cheerfully as was possible in his mood, Only a physical and practical demonstration that I am the two ends and the bite a fool. You're not a fool, Billy. But what happened?

How did they get out by picking the lock of the door I suppose, or perhaps they had a key inside. That's where the fool comes in. I should have nailed the door on them. And what do they mean to do? Don't know they have some new project in mind. But we're better off than before. Girl. We're at liberty to carry arms and to go and come. Provided we stay this side of the galley hatch, they will

let us alone and stay forward to the hatch. By the way, he in view of the rather indeterminate outlook, Let's carry our hardware outside, he removed his belt from his waist and buckled it outside his bill skin coat. Then, when he transferred the pistol from his pocket to the scabbard, he assisted the girl. There, he said, as he stood back and looked at her admiringly. With all due regard for your good looks, Floory,

you resemble little cross between a cowboy and a second mate. No more so than you, she retorted, But I've lost my place as cook, I think. She pointed at the galley chimney from which smoke was arising. Deadman looked and also became interested in an excited convention. Forward. Though Jenkins had sent to watch below and the rest of stations, only the two cooks had a babe, the others, with the boat still rolling in the heavy sea,

has surrounded Jenkins and seemed to be arguing with him. The big man, saving his voice, answered only by signs as yet, but the voices of the others soon became audible to the two act I tell you it all worked out, Jenkins, all figured out while you were dopy in your bunk. Jenkins shook his head. Then follow an exciting burst of reason and flow of words from which Denman could only gather a few disjointed phrases. Dead easy, Jenkins running close in the land. Casey's brother can hope it too,

might get a job which be better. Got a private code made up, don't need money, can't beat his way in. My brother has a wireless take the dinghy. We don't need it. I'll take the chance if you have a life buoy, handy chance of a lifetime. Who wants beachcombing in Africa? You'll see, you'll watch the financial news. I'll stow away in hert. I'll tell you, Jenkins, there'll be no killing. I've made

up my mind to that, and we'll see to it. The last speech was from Samson, and on hearing it, Jenkins weaved them all away. Then he used his voice get to stations. He said, I'll think it out. Forsyth, take the bridge and dope out where we are. They scattered, and Forsyth mounted to the bridge, while Jenkins, still a sick man, descended the forecastle. What does it all mean, Billy asked the girl having the slightest idea, answered Denman as he seated himself beside her.

They've all been hinting at big things, and Sampson said that they might raise my hair. However, well, no, soon the wind is going down. This was the outer fringe of a cyclone. Why don't they go ahead too much sea? These boats are made for speed, not strength. You can break their backs by steaming into a head seat, Daniels. The cook came on deck and after the limits of the hatch, indicating by his face and manner that he wished to speak to Demon. Demon arose and approached him.

But you and lady breakfast together, sir, he asked. I believe so, answered Demon, then turning to Floory, how will it be? May I eat breakfast with you this morning? She nodded, Then, Sir said Daniels, I'll have to serve it in the aftercabin. Why not the wardroom? Why not keep out of miss Fleming's apartment, because mister Demon are workers laid out buildings. Attends to the wardroom and swears he won't serve this

lady or get within reach of her. Serve it in the aftercabin, then, said Denman, turning away to hide the coming smile, and Daniels departing, not caring to agitate the girl with the account of buildings, drunken overtures

and his own vicarious repulse of them. He not explained to her building's trouble of mind, but he found trouble of his own, and explaining his frequent burst of laughter when they ate their breakfast in the cabin, and Flory found trouble in accepting these explanations, for they were irrelevant, incompetent and the name. After breakfast, they went on deck with app oilskins, for wind and

sea were going down. There was a dry deck and above a sky which still gray with the background of storm cloud, yet showed an occasional glimmer of blue, while to the east the sun shone clear and unobstructed. But on the whole clean cut horizon there was not a sign of sail or smoke. Eight bells having struck, the watches were changed, but except possibly a man in the engine room getting up steam, for smoke was pouring out of the

forefalls, no one was at stations. The watch on deck was scattered about forward, and Forsyth had given way to Jenkins, who, with his eye fixed to a long telescope, was scanning the horizon from the bridge. Denman for over forty eight hours without sleep, could have turned in had not curiosity kept him awake, so he waited until nine o'clock when Forsyth, with Munson's help, took morning sights, and later until ten when Forsyth handed Jenkins and

Si both paper on which presumably he had jotted the boat's approximate position. Immediately, Jenkins ran the engine bills and the boat forced ahead. Demon watched her swing to a starboard wheel, and when the rolling gave way to a pitching motion as she met the head seat, he glanced at the after binnacle compass northwest by north half north. He said, whatever their plan is, Jenkins had been won over. Florrie. Better turn in. I'm going to lock

your door and keep that gun handy. But they were not menaced, not even roused for dinner, for Daniels had gone below, and Billings, on watch for the morning, could not wake deadman and would not approach this Florrie's door. So it was late in the afternoon when they again appeared on deck. The weather had cleared, the sea was smoothing, and the boats surging along under the cruising turbines. While Hawks had the wheel and Forsyth still an

officer's uniform, haste back and forth. Evidently Jenkins the light of his physical and mental limitations, had seen the need of an assistant. Paul Kelly, the gunner's mate, was fussing around a twelve pounder. The rest were out of sight. Demon concluded that some kind of seed discipline had been established while he slept, and that Kelly had been put in charge of the gunnery department and been relieved from standing watch. Otherwise, by the former arrangement, Kelly

would have been below while forsython hawks were on deck. The horizon was dotted with specks, some showing smoke, others under their glass showing canvas. Demon examined each by the captain's binoculars, but saw no signs of a government craft. All were peaceably going their way. Why is it, asked Flourie, as she took the last from Denman, that we see so many vessels now we in the life for days without seeing any. We were in a pocket,

I suppose, answered Denman. Lane routes, trade routes for high and low power craft, as well as for sailing craft, are so well established these days that if you get between them, you can wait for weeks without seeing anything. Do you think there's any chance of our being rescued? Soon. I don't know, Flory, but we can't go much nearer the coast without being recognized. In fact, I haven't thought about it much lately.

The truth is I'm getting interested in these fellows. This is the most daring and desperate game I ever saw a plane, And how they'll come out as a puzzle. Hello, eight bells, the bell will struck on the bridge, and the watches changed, except that Jenkins, after a short talk with Forsyth, did not relieve him, but came after the engine room hatch, where he held another short talk with Sampson and Riley, who, instead of going below, had waited only a few words came to demon's years and these

and the horse accents of Jenkins as he left them. Six days at cruising speed, you say, and two at full stein? All right? Jenkins continued aft, but halted and called to retreating Sampson, who joined him. Then the two approached to galley hatch and held denman. Captain Jenkins can't talk very well, sir, said Sampson, with a conciliatory grin. But he wants me to ask you what you did to him, he says, he bears no grudge, can't tell you answered Demon. Probably there's a trick of

Japanese jiu jitsu not taught in the schools and known only to experts. I learned it in Japan when my life was in danger. Jenkins nodded as though satisfied with the explanation, and Samson resumed. Another thing we came after, mister Demon, is to notify you that we must search this keeper's room in the wardroom for whatever money there is on board. There may be none. What we want the last cent? What on earth, exclaimed Demon do you want with money? Then, as their faces clouded, he said, oh,

go ahead, don't turn my room upside down. You'll find my pile and a sort of citizens clothes hanging up about four and a half. Four and a half as a whole lot, sir, remarked Samson. As they descended the wards. A match, got any money down below FLOORI inquired Demon, joining the girl, She shook her head. No, I lost everything, but what I wear? The tears that started to her eyes apprized Demon that hers was more than a money loss. But there was no comfort of

mere words for such loss, and he went on quickly. They were going through the cabin for money. They'll get all I've got. Did you see any cash in the captain's desk? What? Yes, Billy, she said hesitatingly. I wanted a place to put my combs when I wore the bandage, and I saw some money in the upper desk. It was a role. He's lost it then, always was a careless man. Did you count it? Oh? I had no right to, But the question in Demon's

mind was answered by Sampson. When Ian Jenkins emerged from the hatch five hundred, he said, fine, we won't need a quarter of it. Jenkins five hundred, repeated Demon to the girl, jail breaking, steal in government property, mutiny against me, piracy and burglary. Having helped them when they are caught, but will they be can't help but be caught. I know nothing of their plans, but I do know that they're running it right into

the horns nest. If a single one of those crafts on the horizon recognizes this boat and can wireless in the rostation, will be surrounded tomorrow. But as it happened, they were not recognized. They took desperate chances in charging through a coasting fleet in daylight. In at nightfall, Jenkins gave the order for full speed end of chapter nineteen, Chapter twenty of The Pirates by Morgan

Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter twenty for an hour, demon Will remained with Floria to witness the unusual spectacle of a forty knot destroyer in a hurry. The wind was practically gone, though a heavy ground swell still met the

boat from the northwest. And as there was no moon nor starlight, and as all lights were out but the white masthead and the red and green side lights invisible from a but dally lighting the sea ahead, the site presented was

unusual and aspiring. They seemed to be looking at an ever receding wall of solid blackness beneath which rose and spread from the high bow to star warning port two huge moving snow drifts, lessening in size as the bow lifted over the crest of a sea it had climbed, and increasing into a liquid avalanche of

foam that said spangles up the bright illumination of the mast head light. When the prow buried itself in the base of the next sea astern was a white, self luminous wake that narrowed to a point in the distance before it had lost its phosphorescent glow. Flori was interested only in the glorious picture as a whole. Denman, equally impressed, was interested in the somewhat rare spectacle of a craft meeting at forty knots a sea running at twenty for not a drop

of water hit the deck where they stood. They went below at last, but Denman, having slept in nearly all day, was long in getting to sleep. A curious, feudal and inconsequential thought bothered him, the thought that the cheerful buildings had ceased his singing in the galley. The monotonous humming of

the turbines brought sleep at last. But he awakened at daylight from a dream in which Billings, dressed in a mother hubbard and a poke bonnet, was trying to force a piece of seawater soap into his mouth, and had almost succeeded when he awoke. But it was a stopping of the turbines that really had awakened him, and he dressed hurriedly and went on deck. There was nothing amiss. No one was in sight but Jenkins, who leaned lazily against

the bridge rail. In the dim light that shone, nothing could be seen on the horizon or within it. So, a little ashamed of his uncalled for curiosity, he hurried down and turned in all standing to wait for breakfast and an explanation. But no explanation was given him, either by events or the attitude of the men. Those on deck avoided the after end of the boat, all except old Kelly, whose duties brought in finally to the after guns and tubes. But while civilly lifting his captain, Miss Floury, he

was grouching taciturn in his manner until his work was done. Then he halted at the galley hatch on his way forward to lean over and pronounced anathema of the heads of the cooks because of the quality of the food. While waiting for breakfast, Devon had listened to an angry and wordy argument between the two cooks, which Daniel had voiced his opinion of buildings for waking him from his

watch below to serve the prisoners. When the watches were changing the eight bells that morning, he had heard Hawks and Davis, the two seamen of the depth department, protesting violently to Jenkins at the promotion of Forsyth and Kelly, which left them to do all the steering. Jenkins had not answered orally,

but his gestures overruled the protest. Even Casey and Munson argued almost to quarreling over various tricks of their trade, which Denman as he listened that only some eyes were to form a part of the private code they had spoken of when haranguing Jenkins. There was a nervous unrest pervading them all, which while even Florian Devon intact even reached the engine room at noon, Sampson and Dwyer were relieved, and the former turned back to shout down the hatch, I told

you to do it, and that goes. We've overhauled and cleaned it. You two assemble and oil it up this afternoon, or you will hear from me at eight bells. The voice of Riley, who was nearly as large a man as Sampson, answer hotly but inarticulately, and Denmon can only ascribe the row to a difference of opinion concerning the condition of some parts of the engines. Sampson, though possibly the lesser engineer than the others of his department.

He had dominated them as Jenkins dominated them all by pure force of personality. He had made himself chief engineer, and his orders were obeyed, as evidenced by the tranquil silence that emanated from the engine room when Sampson returned at four in the afternoon. All day the boat lay with quiet engines and a bare head of steam, rolling slightly in a swell that came from the east, while the sun shone brightly overhead from east to west, and only a

few specs appeared on the horizon to remain for a time then vanish. Meanwhile, Florrie worried Denman with questions he cannot answer. Forsyth took the sights in the morning, he explained at length, and a meridian observation at noon. He has undoubtedly found another pocket, as I call these triangular spaces between the routes. But I did not know where we are, except that computing our yesterday and last night's run, we were within from sixty to one hundred miles

of New York. He was further mystified when, on going to his room for a cigar after supper, he found his suit of citizens clothes missing from its hook not the same thief, he grumbled, Sampson and Jenkins are too big for it. He did not mention his loss to Florry, not wishing to arouse further feminine speculation. And when at a later hour in his higher latitude, darkness had come and full speed was roamed to the engine room, he induced her to retire. I don't know what's up, he said,

but get all the sleep you can. I'll call you if anything happens. He did not go to sleep himself, but smoked and waited while the humming turbines gathered in the miles one hour, two hours, nearly three, until a quarter to eleven o'clock, when speed was reduced. Remembering his embarrassment of the morning, deadman did not seek the deck, but look through his dead leg. Nothing but darkness met his eye. It was a black night with

rain. He entered the lighted wardroom and looked at the tell tale above. They told him that the boat was heading due north. Then he entered an opposite room. All were unlocked now, from which, slanting through the deadlight, he saw lights. He threw open the thick round window and saw more clearly lights shore lights ahead enter port, he saw no land, but from

the perspective of the lights he judged that they ran east and west. Then he heard the call of the lead a quarter seventeen, and a little later by the deep seventeen, delivered in the sing song voice by Hawks. The coast of Long Island muttered demon well for picked up schoolboy navigation. It is certainly a feat to run over six hundred miles and stop over soundings. The boat went on at reduced speed until Hawks had called out by the mark ten.

When the engine stopped, and there was a rush of footsteps on deck that centered over the open deadlight above, which was slung to the davits. The boat called by them the dinghy, but which was only a very small gasoline. Launch in with you, Casey, said Jenkins in a low, hoarse voice, and turn her over. See about the bottom plug. Two clear away, those guys four and aft you fellows. In a few moments came the buzzing of a small engine. Then it stopped, and Casey said,

engines, all right, and so is the plug. Shove out and lower away. Got everything right, Casey, got your money, got the code, got everything? Was the impatient answer. Well, remember you're to head the boat out from the beach, pull the bottom plug and let her sink in deep water. Make sure your wheels and midships shove out and lower away, retorted Casey, do you think I never learned to run a naft

to launch? Demon heard the creaking sound of the davits turning in their beds, then the slackening away of the falls they're unhooking by Casey, and the chugging of the engine as the launch drew away. Good luck, Casey called Jenkins. All right, answered Casey from the distance, have your life Bowie's handy. Demon ducked out of sight as the launch was lowered, and he

did not see Casey. But on opening a locker in his room for a fresh box of cigars, he noticed that his laundry had been tampered with six shirts and twice as many collars were gone. On looking further, he missed a new Derby hat that he had prized more than usual. Also his suitcase. Casey and I are about the same size, he muttered, But what the deuce does it all mean? He went to sleep with the turbines humming full speed in his ears, but he wakened. We were reduced to cruising

speed. Looking at his watch in the light from the wardroom, he found that it was half past two, and on stepping out for a look at the tail tale, he found the boat heading due south. Back in the pocket, he said, as he returned to his room. But the engines did not stop as he partly expected, but remained at half speed, and the boat still headed south when he wakened at breakfast time. End of chapter twenty Chapter twenty one of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is

in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter twenty one. After breakfast, King, one of the machinists, and a pleasant faced young man came after with an ensign, a hammer, chisel, and paint pot. This is work, sir, he said, as he passed, tipping his cap politely to missus. Floury should have been done before. He went to the taffrail and leading over with the hammer and chisel, removed the raised letters that spelled the boat's name. Then he covered the

hiatus with paint and hoisted the ensign to the flagstaff. Now, sir, he remarked, as he gathered up his tools in paint pot. She's a government craft again, I see, commented Demon, then to Florey as King went forward. They're getting foxy. We're steaming into the crowd again, and they want to forestall inspection and suspicion. I wonder if our being allowed on the deck is part of the plan. A lady and an officer aft look

legitimate. At noon, every man was rest of the regulations, being clean blue with neckerchief and knife lanyard, while Jenkins and Forsyth appeared in full undressed uniform with tasteful linen and neckware. That this was part of the plan was proven when, after a display of bunting in the international signal code from the yard up forward, they ranged alongside of an outboard tank steamer that had kindly

slowed down for them. All hands but one cook and one engineer had mustard on deck, showing a fair semblance of a full powered watch, and the one cook, Billings, displayed himself above the hatch for one brief moment, glad in spotless white jacket. Then, just before the two bridges came together, Jenkins hurried down the steps and after Demon to speak a few words, then hastened forward. It was sufficiently theatrical to impress the ski grow the tanker.

But what Jenkins really said to Demon was you would have remember your parole, sir, and not hell that steamer to which Demon had nodded, assent steamer, ahoy, shout at Forsyth through a small megaphone. You are laden with oil, as you said by signal. We would like to replenish our supply, which is almost exhausted. Yes, sir, answered the skipper. But to whom shall I send the bill to the superintendent of the Charleston Navy Yard. Will very lovely be paid to your owners before you get back.

We want as much as one hundred tons. I have made out a receipt for that amount. Throw us a heaving line to take our hose and I will send it up on the bike. Very well, sir. Anything else I could do for you, sir? Yes, we want about two hundred gallons of water? There now a long time, certainly, sir, Very glad to accommodate you. Then, after that runaway torpedo boat, yes, any news of her on shore? Our wireless is out of order. Well,

the opinion is that she was lost in a big blow. A few days ago she was reported well to the nord and it was a Saint Lawrence Valley storm. Did you get any of it? Very little, answered Forsyth. We were well to the southern. A slight stumble and good diction there, mister Forsyth muttered the listening demon otherwise very well carried out. But the

deluded tankskeeper made no strictures on forsythed diction. And while the pleasant conversation was going on, the two lines of hose were passed and the receipt for oil and water sent up to the steamer. In a short time, the tanks were filled, the hose hauled back, and the starting bells run in both engine rooms. The destroyer was first together way, and as a stern drew abreast of the tanker's bridge, the skipper lifted his capt to Florian Denman and

called out, good afternoon, Captain. I'm very glad I was able to combinate you. Twitch Denman, with all hands looking expectantly at him, only replied with a bow as became a dignified commander with two well trained officers on his bridge to attend to the work. The boat circled around, headed northwest and went on at full speed until not only the tanker, but every other

craft in view had sunk beneath the horizon. Then the engines were stopped and the signal yard sent down back in the pocket again, said Deadman to Flory, what on earth can they be driving at? And why? She answered with another query. Did they go to all that trouble to be so polite and nice, when, as you say, they are fully committed to piracy and robbed the other vessels by force? This seems to show, he said, the master hand of Jenkins, who was a natural born gentleman, as

against the work of forsythe who was a natural born brute. Yet he is a high school graduate, and Jenkins is a past seaman apprentice. What is that one who enters the Navy at about fifteen or sixteen to serve until he is twenty one, then to leave the Navy or reenlist. They seldom reenlist, for they are trained, tutor and discipline into good workmen to whom shore life offers better opportunities. Those who do reenlist have raised the standard of the

Navy sailor to the highest in the world. But those that don't are sad loss to the Navy. Jenkins reenlisted, so did Forsyth. What do you think the training and tutoring the Jenkins received equal to an education like Forsyth's or yours they learn more facts, answered Deadman. The training makes a man of

a bad boy and a gentleman of a good one. What a ghastly pity that, because of conservatism and politics, all the splendid material for officers should go to waste, and the appointments to an anapolis be given to good high school scholars who might be cowardly sissies at heart, or blackguards like Forsythe. But that is how you received your appointment, Billy Denman, said the girl warmly. And you are neither a sissy nor a blackguard. I hope not,

he answered grimly. Yet if I had first served my time as seaman apprentice before being appointed to Annapolis, I might be up on that bridge now instead of standing supinely while one seaman apprentice doesn't navigating and another the bossing. There is that man again. I'm afraid of him, Billy. All the others except Forsythe have been civil to me, but he looks at me so so hatefully. Billings minus his clean white jacket had come up the hatch and

gone forward. He came back soon showing a sullen, scowling face, as though his cheerful disposition had entirely left him. As he reached the galley hatch, he cast upon the girl a look of such intense hatred and malevolence that Denman White with anger, sprang through the hatch and halted him. If ever again, he said explosively, I catch you glaring at this lady in that

manner. Parole or no parole, I'll throw you overboard. Building's face straightened, he saluted, and without a word, went down the hatch, while demon returned to the girl. He's an enlisted man, he said, barely, not a past to seem an apprentice. So I down him easily with

few words. And then came the thought which he did not expressed the Flory, that his fancied limitations which prevented him from being on the bridge, also prevented him from enlightening the mord Billings as to the real source of the terrible punch he had received. Four. While he could justify his silence to Flory, he could only with regard to Billings, Philip masculine dread of ridicule addressing in feminine clothing end of chapter twenty one, Chapter twenty two of the Pirates

by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter twenty two. At supper that evening, they were served with prunes, bread without butter, and weak tea with neither milk nor sugar. Or it is from forward, sir, said Daniels, noticing Demon's in volunteered a look of surprise. All hands are to

be on short allowance for a while until something comes our way again. But why, asked Demon, do you men include us in your plans and economies? Why did you not rid yourself of us last night when you said one of your number is sure. Daniels was a tall, somber faced man, a typical ship's cook, and he answered slowly, I cannot tell you, sir, except that both you and the lady might talk about this boat. Oh well, said Demon, I was speaking for this lady who doesn't belong

with us. Place is right here, yes, sir, agreed Daniels. But I am at liberty to say, sir, to you and the lady that you best look out for Billings. He seems to be going batty. I have him talking to himself threatening harm to this lady. I don't know what he's got against her myself. Tell him, said Denman, sharply that if he enters this apartment or steps one foot of bath the galley hatch on deck, the parole is broken. I'll put a bullet through his head.

You might tell it to Jenkins too. Daniels got through the wardroom door before answering, I'll not do that, s Jenkins might confine him and leave all the work to me. I think Billings needs a licking. Whether Daniels applied this treatment for the insane to Billings or the Billings, with an equal right to a judge Daniel's saying, had applied the same treatment to him could not

be determined with a violation of the parole. But when they had finished supper and reached the deck, sounds of conflict came up from the galley hatch, unheard and uninterrupted by those forward. It was a series of thumps, bows, growlings, and the rattling of pots and pants in the galley floor. Then there was silence. You see, said Denman to Floury with mock seriousness. The baleful influence of a woman aboard ship. It never fails. I

can't help it, she said, with a pout and a blush. Her blushes were discernible now, for the last vestige of the scolding had gone. But I mean to wear a veil from this on. I had one in my pocket. I think that would be wise, he answered Denman gravely. These men, are you see, Billy? She interrupted, I've got a new complexion, brand new peaches and cream for the first time in my life, and I'm gonna take care of it. That's right, he said,

with a laugh. But I'll wager you won't patent the process. Live steam is rather severe as a beautifier, but she kept her word. After the meager breakfast next morning, which Daniel served with no explanation of the route, she appeared on deck with her face hidden. From then on wore the veil.

There was a new activity among the men, a partial relief from the all pervading nervousness and irritability gun and torpedo practice, which brought to real every man on board except Munson, buried in his wireless room, and one engineer

on duty was inaugurated and continued through the day. Their natty blue uniforms discarded, they toiled and perspired at the task, and when toward the end of the afternoon, Old Kelly decided that they could be depended upon to fire a gun or ejected torpedo, Jenkins decreed they should get on deck and lashed to the rail in their chocks four extra torpedoes, as there was one in each

tube. This made Aida the Dudley's weapons of warfare ready at hand. When a task was done, they quit for the day, the debt force going to the bridge for a look around the empty horizon, the cooks to the galley, and the machinists to the engine room. Denman, who with doubt and misty, had watched the day's preparations, led Floory down the companion. They're getting ready for a mix of some kind, and there must be someplace

to put you away from the gunfire. How's this? He opened a small hatch covered by the loose after edge of the cabin carpet, and disclosed a compartment below which might have been designed for stores, but was contained nothing. As the lighted electric bulb showed him coming up, he threw a couple of blankets down and said, there's a cyclone cellar for you, Flory below the

water line. If we're fired upon, jumped down and don't come up until cold or until water comes in. Then he went to his room for the extra store of cartridges he had secreted, but found them gone angrily. Returning to Floury, he asked for her supply, and she too searched and found nothing. But both their weapons were fully loaded. Well, he said philosophically, as they returned to the deck, they only guaranteed us the privilege of

carrying arms. I suppose they feel justified from their standpoint, But Undecy found something to take their minds temporarily off the loss. Sampson, red in the face, was mosciperating down the engine room hatch. Come up here, he said, loudly and defiantly. Come up here and prove it. If you think you're a better man than I am, come up and square yourself, you flannel mouth mick. The flannel mouth mick in the person of Riley White, a face rather than red, both eyes blazing and mouth, said an

ugly grin lined up. It was a short fight. The blows delivered by Samson. The paying done by Riley, and ended with a crashing swing on Riley's jaw that sent him to the deck, not to rise for a few moments. Had enough, asked Samson triumphantly, had enough you imitation of an ashcat. Oh, I guess you have think it out. He turned and met Jenkins, who had run aft from the bridge. Now, Samson, this will be enough of this. What have you got to say about it,

inquired Sampson. By Rayley plenty to say, answered Jenkins, calmly, not much. You haven't you keep away from the engine room and the engine more affairs. I could tend to my department, you tend to yours. I can tend to yours as well. When the time comes. There's work ahead for well. Attend to me. Now. You sweated me all day like a stoker at your work. Now go on and finish it up. I'll take a fall out of you Jenkins right here. No, you won't

wait until the work's done, and I'll accommodate you. Jenkins went forward, and Sampson, after a few moments of scarcely audible grumbling, followed to the forecastle. Then Riley got up, looked after him and shook his fist. I'll get even with you for this, he declared, with lurid profanity. I'll have your life for this, Sampson, anyone down the hatch, while Forsyth on the bridge, who had watched the whole affair with an evil grin,

turned away from Jenkins when the ladder joined him. Perhaps he enjoyed the sight of Sewing beside himself being knocked down. It looks rather bad, Floury said then, and dubiously, all this quarreling among themselves. Whatever job they have on hand, they must hold together or we'll get the worst of it. I don't like to see Jenkins and Samson hennan, though the two cooks are only a joke. But there was no more open quarreling for the present.

As the days wore on, a little gun and torpedo drill was carried out, while with steam up, the book made occasional darts to the north or south to avoid too close contact with passing craft, and gradually, by fits and starts, crept more to the westward, and Jenkins recovered complete control of his voice and movements, while Munson the Wireless Man grew haggard and thin at last and nine o'clock one evening, just before Demmon went down, Munson

ran up the sheet of paper, shouting to the bridge, caught on with the United night shift. Then, having delivered the sheet to Jenkins, he went back, and the rasping sound of his sending instruments kept up through the night. But when Demon sought the deck after breakfast, it had stopped, and he saw Munson, still haggard to face, talking to Jenkins at the hatch, got his wavelength. Now Demon heard him say, took all night,

but that in the code or full them all. From then on Munson stood watching his instrument only from six in the evening until midnight, got more sleep thereby, and soon the tired haggard look left his face and it resumed his normal expression of intelligence and cheerfulness. End of chapter twenty two Chapter twenty three of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, Chapter twenty three.

After supper, about a week later, Demon and Flory sat in the deck chairs, watching the twilight way to the gloom of the evening and speculating in a desultory manner on the end of this never ending voyage, when Munson again darted on deck and ran up the bridge stairs with a sheet of paper, barely discernible in the gathering darkness, and handed it to Jenkins, who

appeared over it in the glow from the binnacle. Then Jenkins blew in the bo'sun's whistle, the shrill, trilling and penetrating call that rouses all hands in the morning, but i seldom given again throughout the day, except in emergencies. All hands responded. Both cooks rushed out from the galley, the engineers on watch, shut off all burners, and appeared the men tumbling up from

the forecastle, all joining Jenkins and Munson on the bridge. Demons strained his ears but could hear nothing, though we saw each man bending over the paper in turn. Then they quickly went back to their places below were on deck, and as the bells were given to the engine room, the rasping of

the wireless could be heard. As the two cooks came aft, Demon heard them discussing excitedly but inaudibly, the matter in hand, and his curiosity getting the better of his pride, he waited only long enough to see the boat steadied at east northeast. They went down and forward to the door leading to the passage that led to the galley. Billions was doing most of the talking in a high pitched querulous tone, and Daniels answered only by grunts and low

pitched monosyllables. Gigantia, ten, tomorrow, five million were a few to the words and phrases. Demon caught and at last he heard the con looting words of the talk. Dry up, said Daniels, loudly and threateningly. Yes, thirteen isn't unlucky number, but if you don't shut up and clear off these dishes, I'll make our number twelve. Glad you've got something to think about besides that woman, But shut up, you make me tired. Demon went back to Floory, somewhat worried, but no longer puzzled. Yet

he gave the girl none of his thoughts that evening. He waited until morning, when, after a look around a bright horizon dotted with sail and steam, he said to her as she came up, eat all the breakfast you can this morning, Floory, for it, maybe some time before you again. Why, Billy, what's the matter, asked the girl, We've traveled cruising speed all night, he answered, and now must be up close to the corner, as they call the position where the outbound liners changed to the

great circle. Course, Well, she said, inquiringly, did you ever hear of the Gigantia. Well, of course you mean the new liner. Yes, the latest and largest steamship built. She was on her maiden voyage when this boat left port, and is about due to start the east again. Floory. She carries five million in bullion, and these fellows mean to hold her up, goodness, exclaimed the girl. You mean they will rob her a big steamship. She's big enough, of course to tuck this boat

down a hatchway. But these passengers boats carry no guns except for looting, while this book could sink her with the armament she carries. Look at those torpedoes, eight altogether, and more below decks eight compartments could be flooded, and bulkheads are not reliable. But will they dare desperate? Though they are? Will they dare fire on a ship full of passengers? How did you learn this, billy? It seems impossible, incredible. Remember the gun and

torpedo drill, said Denman softly, excitedly. Our being in these latitudes is significant. They put Casey ashore the other night and robbed the captain and me to outfit him. I overheard some of the talk. He has reached New York, secured a position as night operator in the station, started the financial news and send word last night that the Giganta sails at ten this morning with five million in gold. And where do you think she is now, asked

the girl, glancing around the horizon at her dock in New York. She'll be out here late in the afternoon, I think, But heavens, what chances to wait all day while any craft that comes along. They recognized this boat and notified the nearest station. Why didn't they intercept the lane route out at sea where there's no crowd like this? I can only account for it by the shortage of stores. Yes, that's it. No seeing pirate would take such risks. We have plenty of oil and water, but little food.

The demon had guessed rightly, was partly indicated by the action of the men and the boat that day. All hands kept the deck and their first task was discard the now useless signal mast, which might help identify the boat as the runaway destroyer. Two engineers saw it nearly threw the mast at its base, while the others cleared away the light shrouds and four stay. Then a few tugs on a lea shroud sent it overboard, while the men dodghed

from under beyond, smashing the bridge rail. It did no damage. The dodging tactics were resumed. A steamer, appearing on the east or west horizon, heading as to pass to the northward of southward, was given a wider berth by a dash at full speed in the opposite direction. Every face, even floors and demons, wore an anxious, nervous expression, and attention increased

as the hours went by. Dinner was served but brought no relief. Men spoke sharply to one another, and Jenkins roared his orders from the bridge, bringing a culmination to the strain that no one could have foreseen. The sudden appearance of an inbound steamer out of the haze that had arisen to the east necessitated immediate full speed. Riley was in charge of the engine room, but Samson stood at the hatch exercising an unofficial supervision, and it was he that

received at Jenkins thundering request from more steam. Samson, in a voice equally loud and with more profanity, admonished Jenkins to descend to lower regions and attend to his own affairs. Jenkins yielded, leaving Forsyth in charge of the bridge. He came down the stairs and down the run. Not a word was spoken by either, but with the pressions that men feel at the coming of a fight. The two cooks left their dishes, and the engineers their engines

to crowd their heads into the hatches. Riley showed his disfigured face over the heads of the other two, and on the bridge forsythe watched with the same evil grin. But a few blows were passed. Then the giants, locked and twisting and writhing, whirled about the deck. Floury scream but them in

sounds. Their nothing can be done, he said, without violing the parole, and even if he stopped, for the two huge forms, tightly embraced, had reeled like one solid object to the rail, which actually them at just above the knees, had sent them overboard, exactly as Samson had gone before. Man overboard, yelled Denman uselessly, for all had seen but he threw a life buoy fast into the quarter, was about to throw another when he looked and saw that his first was one hundred feet this side of the

struggling men. He turned the glands forward. Men were running about frantically and shouting, but nothing was done, and the boat still headed a matter of forty knots an hour. Riley grinned from the hatch and forward on the bridge. Forsythe turned his now sober face away to look at the compass and at

the steamer, fast disappearing the haze that followed her. Then Moore's an outlet for his anger, and, disgusted than in the hope of saving life, demon threw the second life bowie high in the air over the stern, and led the shot and hysterical Flory down the stairs. Rest here a while, he said, gently, and try to forget it. I don't know what they'll do now, but keep your pistol with you at all times. He went up with a grave face of many heartfelt misgivings. Four With Forsyth and

Riley now the master spirits, things might not go well with them. End of chapter twenty three twenty four of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, chapter twenty four. In about ten minutes, four seth ground the wheel over and headed back. But though demon kept a sharp lookout, he saw nothing of the two men or the life buoys. He could feel no hope for Sampson, who was unable to swim, as for Jenkins, possibly

a swimmer. Even should he reach a life bowie, his plate would only be prolonged to a lingering death by hunger and thirst, for there was only one chance in a million that he would be seen and picked up. After ten minutes in the backtrack, the boat was logically in about the same position as when she had fled from the steamer before. Syd kept on for another ten minutes. When the Hayes, having enveloped the whole horizon, he stopped

the engines and the boat lost way. We stugglishly in the trough. There was no win and nothing but a long ground swell and the Haze team convenience them the first and making it difficult to cite a telescope the second and hiding

everything on the horizon, though hiding the boat herself. But at last Forsythe fixed something in the glass, gazing long and intently at a faint spot appearing to the northwest, and Denman, following suit with the binoculars, saw what he was looking at, a huge book coming out of the haze, carrying

one short mast and five funnels. Then he remembered the descriptions he had read of the mighty Gigantia, the only ship afloat with five funnels since the Great Eastern Forsythe called, and all hands flocked to the bridge, where they discussed the situation, and as them, and judged by the many faces, turned his way, discussed him in floory, but whatever resulted from the ladder came

to nothing. They suddenly left the bridge to disappear in the forecastle for a few moments, then to reappear, each man belted in pistol, and one bringing an outfit to Forsyth. On the bridge. Two engineers went to the engines. Forsythe rang full speed to them, and the rest cooks and all swung the four torpedo tubes to port and manned the forward one. The big ship seemed to grow in size visibly as their speed plus the destroyers brought them

together in a few moments. Demon made out details six parallel lines of deadlights, one above the other and extending from a bow to stern, a length of a thousand feet, three tiers of deck houses one above the other amidships, a line of twenty boats to a side along the upper deck, and her after rails black with passengers. While as many as six uniform officers stood

on her bridge eighty feet above the waterline. A little destroyer rounded two alongside and slowed down to a little more than the speed of a larger ship, which permitted her to creep along the huge black side inch by inch until the bridges were nearly abreast. Then a white whiskered man on the high bridge hailed, steamer, ahoy, what do you want while all that bullion stored in

your strong room? Answered Forsyth, through a megaphone, And if you please speak more distinctly, for the wash of your bows wave prevents my hearing what you say. The officer was handed a megaphone, and through it his voice came down like a thunderclap. You want the billions stored in our strong room, don't you anything else? You want, sir, Yes, answered Forsyth, you want a boat full of provisions, three barrels of flour, the

rest and canned meats and vegetables anything else. There was as much derision in the voice as can carry through a megaphone. That is all, answered Forsyth. Load your gold into one of your own boats, the provisions in another. Lower them down, and let the falls unreeve, so that they will go adrift. We will pick them up. Well. Of all the infrontal impudence I ever heard, yours is the worst. I judge that you are that crew of jail breakers we've heard of that stole a government boat and turn

pirates. You are right, answered Forsyth, But don't waste our time. Will you give us what we ask for? Or shall we sink you? Sink us, you scoundrel. You can't. You better not try, or threatened to. Your position is known, and three scouts started this morning from Boston in New York. That bluff don't go, answered Forsyth. Will you cough up? No? Most decidedly no, roared the officer, who might or might not have been the captain. Kelly, said Forsyth, send that

white head straight into him. Whitehead, torpedoes, be it known, are a mechanical fish of machine steel, self repelling and self steering, actuated by a small air engine, and carrying in their warheads a charge of over two hundred pounds of guncotton, and then their blunt noses a detonating cap to explode it on contact. At Forsyth's word, Kelly turned a lever on the tube

and the contained torpedo dived gently overboard. Denman, looking closely, saw it appear once on the surface porpoise like before it dived to an indicated depth. The inhuman devil, he commented with gritting teeth. A muffled report came from the depths. A huge amount of water lifted up to break the scattered fragments and bubbles. Then these bubbles burst, giving vent to clouds of brown and

yellow smoke. While up through the ventilators and out through the open lower deadlights came more of this smoke and the sound of human voices screaming and groaning. These sounds were drowned in the buzzing of thousands of other voices on deck as men, women and children fought their way toward the stern. Do you agree, yelled Forsyth through the megaphone. Do you agree, or shall we unload

every torpedo we've got into your hull. Old Kelly had calmly marshaled the crew to the next torpedo and looked up the Forsyth for the word, but it did not come. Instead, over the buzzing of the voices, came the officer's answer, loud and distinct, we agree. We understand that your necks are in the halter. Then you have nothing to lose, even though you should fill every compartment and drown every soul on board this ship. So we

will accede to your demands. We will fill one boat with the bullion and another with provisions, and cast them adrift. But do not fire again. For God's sakes, all right, answered Forsyth. Bear a hand breast to breast. The two craft charged along, while two boats were lowered to the level of the main deck and swiftered into the rail. Sailors appeared from the doors and pairs, each carrying a box that taxed their strength and made them

stagger. There were ten in all, and they slowly and carefully ranged them along the bottom of one of the boats, so as to distribute their weight. While this was going on, stewards and galley helpers were filling the other boat with provisions in boxes, barrels and packages. Then the word was given and the boats were cast off and lowered, the tackles of the heavier groaning

mightily under the strain. When they struck the water. The falls were instantly let go, and as the boats drifted astern, the tackles unrove their long lengths from the blocks and were hauled on board Again. Forsyth stopped the engines and then back toward the drifting boats. As the destroyer passed a stern off the giant steamer, a shout rang out, but only Demon heard it about the buzzing of voices, and it seemed that only he saw Casey spring from

the high rail of the mammoth into the sea. For the rest were busy grappling for the boat's painters, and Forsyth was looking aft. When the painters were secured and the boats drawn alongside, Forsyth rang for half speed, and the boat, under a port wheel, swung away from the gigantia and went ahead. There's your man, Casey, yelled Demon excitedly. Are you going to leave him? Forsyth, now looking dead ahead, seemed not to hear, but Riley spoke from the hatch, hold your jaw back there, and

you'll get a passage too. With Casey's cries in his ears, sick at heart, and the belief that not even a life boy would avail, for the Giant's steamship had not stopped her engines throughout the whole transaction was now half mile away. Demon went down the floory obediently waiting, getting nervous and frightened. He told her nothing of what had occurred, but soothed and quieted her with the assurance that they would be rescued soon. And Chapter twenty four Chapter

twenty five of The Pirates by Morgan Robertson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter twenty five. The engine stopped, and climbing the steps to look forward, demonstele the bridge deserted, and the whole ten surrounding an equal number of strong boxes stamped and burned with official looking letters and numbers. Farther, along with a provision and a peep of stern showed Denman drifting boats. The big Gigantia had disappeared in the haze that hid the whole horizon.

But up in the western sky was a porten, a black silhouette of irregular outline that grew larger as he looked. It was a monoplane, an advanced scout of the scout boat, and Demon recognized the government model. It seemed to have sighted the destroyer, for it came straight on with a rush, circled overhead, and turned back. There was no signal made, and as it dwindled away in the west, Demon's attention was attracted to the men surrounding

the boxes. Only Munson was still watching the receding monoplane, but the rest were busy with hammers and cold chisels from the engine room. They were opening the boxes of treasure. Did anyone see that? Fellow before demanded Month and pointing to the spot in the sky. A few look and the others answered with ohs and commands forget it, open the boxes, let's have a look at the stuff. But Months and spoke again, forsythe how about the big

Fellows wireless? We didn't disable it. He has sent the news already. What do you think, shut up, answered forsythe irately, I didn't think of it. Neither did anyone what of it? Nothing afloat can catch us. Open the box, let's have a look and we'll beat it for Africa. I tell you vociferated months, and that you better start now at full speed too. That's a scout and the mother boat isn't far away. Will you shut up or I shut you up, shouted Forsyth. You'll not shut

me up, retorted Munson. You're the biggest fool in this bunch. In spite of your bluff. Why don't you go ahead and get out of this neighborhood. A box cover yielded at this juncture, and Forsyth did not immediately answer, instead with Munson himself and Billings, the cook insanely admitting whoops and yelps as he danced around for a peeple. He joined the others and tearing out Excelsior from the box. Then the bare contents came to view Lead hald

Riley as he stood erect giving a few men back with his shoulders. Lead. It is if I know one medal from another, Open them all, roared Forsyth. Get the axes, pinch bars, anything, Start your engine, yelled Munson, but he was not listening. To with every implement that they can lay their hands on. They attacked the remaining boxes, and as each in turn disclosed its contents, there went up howls of disappointment and rage. Lead They shouted that last, all, lad, was this the job

put up for us? No, yelled Munson, not for us. Every steamer carrying bullion also carries lead in the same kind of boxes. I've read of it many a time. It's a safeguard against piracy. We've been fulled, That's all, Forsyth answered, profanely and as coherently as his rage and excitement would permit. Munson replied by holding his fist under Forsyth's nose. Get up on the bridge, he said, and you, Riley, to your engines. Riley obeyed the call of the exigency, but Forsyth resisted. He

struck Monthson's fist away, but received it immediately full in the face. Staggering back, he pulled his revolver, and before Monthson could meet this new antagonism, he aimed and fired. Monthson lurched headlong and lay still. Then an uproar began. The others charged on Forsyth, who retreated with his weapon At arm's length. He held them off until at his command all but oneted place his pistol back in the scabbard. The dilatory one was Old Kelly, and

him Forsyth shot through the heart. Then the pistols were redrawn and the shooting became general. How Forsyth single handed against the eight remaining men one in that gun fight can only be explained by the fact at the eight were too wildly excited to aim or leave each other freed with a tempt aiming, while forsythe a single target, only needed to shoot at the compact body of men to

make a hit. It ended soon with Hawks, Davis and Daniels writhing on the deck and Forsyth hiding uninjured behind the forward funnel, while Riley, King and Dwyer, the three engineers, were retreating into their engine room. Now, if you've had enough, shouted forsythe start the engine when I give you the bells. Then he mounted to the bridge and took the wheel. But though the star of the engines at full speed indicated that the engineers had had

enough, there was one man left who had not. It was Billings who danced around the dead and the wounded, shrieking and laughing with the emotions of his disordered brain, But he did not fire on Forsyth, and seemed to have forgotten the animus of the recent friction. He drifted aft, muttering to himself, until suddenly he stopped and fixed his eyes on Denman, who, with gritting teeth had washed the deadly fracas at the companion. I told you so, I told you right out, the crazed voice of Billings. A

woman aboard ship always makes trouble up there, take it. He pulled his revolver and fired, and Denman, stupefied with the unexpected horror of it all, did not know that Florrie had crept up beside him in the companion until he heard her scream in conjunction with the whizz of the bullet through her hair. Then demon awoke. After assuring himself of the girl's safety and pushing her down the companion, he drew his revolver, and, taking careful aim,

executed buildings with the cold calmness of a hangman. A bullet, the nearly coincident with the report of a pistol, came from the bridge, and there was Forsyth, with one hand on the wheel, facing aft and taking second aim at him. Denmon accepted the challenge and stepped boldly out of the companion. They emptied their revolvers, but neither did damage, and as Forsyth reloaded, Demon cast a momentary glance at the black spot in the southern sky,

hardly sweeping the upper horizon. He saw still another to the east, while out of the haze in the northwest was emerging a scout cruiser, no doubt the mother of the first monoplane, but she was two miles away and soon began spitting shot and shell, which plowed up the water powerlessly near. You're caught, Forsyth called out Denman, pointing to the south and east. Will

you surrendered before we're sunk or killed? Forsyth's answer was another shot. Floory called Demon down the companion, hamming your gun and pass up the tablecloth. Then get down that hatch out of the way we're being fired at. She obeyed him, and with Forsyth's bullets whistling round his head, he hoisted the flag of truce and surrender to the flagstaff. But just a moment too late,

a shell entered the boat amidships and exploded in her vitals. Sending up through the engine room hatch out of smoke and white steam, while fragments of the shell punctured the death from below. But there were no cries of pain or calls for help from the three men in the engine room. Forsyth left the bridge, breathing vengeance and raging like a madman. He rushed aft. I'll see you go first, he shrieked. He fired again and again as

he came. Then, realizing that he had but one bullet left in his pistol, he haulted at the galley hatch, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger for the last time. There are tricks of the fighting trade taught to naval officers that are not included in the curriculum at Annapolis. Denman, his loaded revolver hanging in the right hand of his side, had waited for

this final shot. Like a duellist. He watched not his opponent's hand but his eye, and the moment that I gave him the unconcealable signal to the trigger finger, he ducked his head and the bullet sped above. Now, Forsyth, he said, as he covered this chagrined marksman, you should have the aimed lower and to the right. But that's all past. Now this boat is practically captured, and I'm not going to kill you, for even though it would not be murder, there's no excuse in my conscious for it.

Whether the boat sinks or not, will be taken oftentime for that fellow Yonder is coming and has ceased firing. But before you were out of my hands, I want to settle an old score with you, one dating from our boyhood, which you'll perhaps remember. Toss that gun forward and step after bid Forsythe, his face working convulsively, obeyed him. Florrie called demon down the hatch, come up, now, we're all right. She came, whitened the face, and stood beside him. Off with your coat, forsythe

and stand up to me. We'll finish that old fight here, girl, hold this gun. Florrie took the pistol, and the two men discarded their jackets and faced each other. There's hardly need of describing in detail the fistfight that followed. It was like all such, for one man is slightly the superior of the other in skill, strength and agility. In this case that one was denmon and though again and again. He felt the weight of Forsyth's

fist and reeled the deck occasionally. He gradually tired out his heavier, though weaker adversary, and at last, with the whole weight of his body behind it, dealt a crashing blow on Forsyth's chin. Demon's old time foe staggered backward and fell face upward. He rolled his head to the right and to the left a few times, then sank into unconsciousness. Demon looked down on

him, waiting for a movement, but none came. Forsyth had been knocked out, and for the last time, Florrie's scream aroused denmon Is the boat sinking Billy. He looked and sprang for a life buoy, which he slipped over Floy's head. The bow of the boat was flushed with the water, which was lapping at the now quiet bodies of the dead and wounded men. Forward. He secured another life bowie for himself. As he donned the cork ring, a hail came from a beam. Jump, it said, jump,

we'll be carried down with the wash. The big scoutch ship was but a few lengths away, and a bowl full of armed men was approaching Hand in hand, they leapt into the sea, and Denman, towing the girl by the becket of her life. Boy paid no attention to the sinking hull until satisfied that they were safe from the suction. When he looked, the bow was under water, the stern rising in the air, higher and higher

until a third of the after body was exposed. Then it slid silently, but for the bursting of a huge air bubbles out of sight in the depths. About a year later, Lieutenant Devon received the letter with a Paris postmark, which he opened in the presence of his wife. In it was a draft on a Boston bank made out his order. Good, he exclaimed, as he glanced down the letter. Listen, Florrie, here's something that pleases

me as much as my exoneration by the Board of Inquiry. Then he read to her the letter, Dear sir, inasmuch as you threw to life boies over for us, you may be glad, even at this late period, to know that we got them. The fight stopped when we hit the water, and since then Samson and myself had been chums. I saw both booies thrown and helped Samson well. I swam with him to the first. Then from the top of the sea I saw the other and getting it returned to

him. We were picked up by a fisherman next day. But you will not mind, sir, if I do not tell you where we landed, or how we got here, or where will be When it's the letter reaches you, we will not be here and never again in the United States. We want to thank you for giving us a chance for our lives. We read in the Paris Herald of your hearing before the Board of Inquiry, and the story you told of the mess Forsyth made of things and the final sinking

of the boat. Of course we were sorry for them, for they were our mates. What they ought not to have gone back on Casey, even though they saw fit to leave Samson and me behind, and thinking this way, we are glad that you looked Forsyth, even at the last minute, being closed a draft for five hundred and fifty dollars, which we'd like you to cash and pay the captain, whose name we did not know the money we took from his desk. We hope that what has left will square up

for the clothes and money we took from your room. You see, as we did not give casey but a little of the money, and it came in mighty handy for us too when we got ashore, it seems we are obligated to return it. I will only say to conclude that we got it honestly. Sampson joins me, in our best perspects to miss Fleming than yourself, truly yours, Herbert Jenkins. Oh, I'm glad, Billy, she exclaimed. They are honest men, after all, honest men, repeated demon

quizzically. Yet they stole a fine destroyer from Uncle Sam. I don't care, she said, stealthy. I'm glad they were saved. And Billy boy, her hands were on his shoulders. If they hadn't stolen that fine destroyer, I wouldn't be here today looking into your eyes, and Billy gathering her into his arms. Let it go ahead. That end of chapter twenty five, End of the Pirates by Morgan Robertson, read by Joe Denoia, Chesterfield, New Jersey, March thirteenth, twenty twenty two.