his pipe. This cottage was his regular dwelling place, while he
was at Rum Island. From the veranda he could look out over the
bay, where 'The Angel of Death' lay at anchor. The men's quarters
were down the hill, near the beach.

"Black Pedro noticed that the men seemed unusually quiet that
night. He did not hear the customary yells and cries. Suddenly he
was surprised to see old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n, come over the
top of the hill, leaning on his cane. Behind him walked the entire
crew of the 'Angel,' two by two. They were heading toward their
Captain's cottage. This was not only astonishing, but it was
strictly against the rules, as all interviews with the Captain,
while on shore, were limited to the hours from 4 to 6 P. M. It was
now 7.30. Black Pedro leaped to his feet in surprise. The men
formed a line in front of the cottage--thirty-four of them--while
old Aaron tottered forward.

"'Cap'n,' he said, 'we'd like to have a word with you.'

"'Well,' replied Black Pedro, 'what do you want?'

"'Cap'n, it's this way. You know ME. I've been your bo's'n an' yer
father's an' yer grand-father's afore HIM, ever since the 'Angel'
was built, an' afore that, too. Why, some on us can remember way
back to the days of the 'Panther,' when you wa'n't knee-high to a
cutlash. Me, an' Mike the Shark, here, an' Sandy Buggins, an'
Roarin' Pete, an' some on us has stuck to the 'Angel' since the
day she was built. There aint any on us but has seen more'n twenty
years sarvice with you or yer father. Now some on us got talkin'
over things today, and talkin' 'bout the big haul o' treasure we