Hastily sending the spliced spar aloft, the crew squared the yards once more, and the _Friend of the Sea_ gathered way. From where I was I could not tell whether we were chasing or in chase; but in a few moments we had other things to think about, for the pirate captain and his lieutenant approached us. The former was a short, broad-shouldered man, with a heavy, black beard. He was dressed in typical buccaneering rig, with a red sash round his waist, in which were stuck a whole armoury of pistols and a short Turkish dagger. Cruelty and viciousness were stamped upon every outline of his face, but at the same time there were signs of a courageous nature and resource. He was apparently a Genoese or a Tuscan, and did not, or would not, speak English, though he understood our replies in the subsequent discourse we had with him. His lieutenant was a taller man, also heavily bearded, and bronzed with the sun. In spite of myself I gave an exclamation of surprise, for he was none other than the man with the scarred face who had tried to rob me on the Portsmouth road over three years ago, and who had escaped from Colonel Middleton’s troopers in the Forest of Bere. The recognition was mutual, and from the look of intense hatred on the man’s features I knew that my fate was sealed. The two pirates conversed volubly in an unknown tongue, then the renegade Englishman turned towards us again. "Listen, men," he said, addressing my companions in adversity. "Join us and you’ll have a life that cannot be beaten. Light work, a fair share of fighting, and plenty of booty. In two years you’ll be rich enough to buy the best inns in England, and can live like gentlemen to the end of your days. Refuse, and----" Here he jerked his thumb significantly in the direction of the entry port. "And as for you, you white-livered young cub," he added, addressing me, "our captain here has given you to me, and, let me say, Dick Swyre will be avenged. I’ll have a little way of my own that will make you wish that his end at the hands of the hangman were yours. Now, my lads, what do you say? Wilt join our merry crew?" The men who were appealed to were not long in making up their minds. Tom Black and George Wilson firmly and emphatically refused, and their example was followed by the two remaining Gannets--Dick Blake and a man whose name I knew not, he being always called Old Shellback. The fifth was the blackamoor who had been a galley slave. He, miserable cur that he was, assented with alacrity, and was sent for’ard to join the rascally crew. My four men were led away, and for a time I was left to myself. I was still dizzy from the effects of the blow I had received, and this probably accounted for the complete indifference that I felt with regard to my fate. My wrists and ankles were tied, making it impossible for me to move, save by crawling and worming along the deck.