In fact, between the two, I would far rather have been within that tower on the hill than in the squat pink fort, in case of attack in the days when muzzle-loading guns and round shot were in vogue, and the fact that Blackbeard’s Castle bears a family likeness to a windmill proves or disproves nothing. Everywhere in the West Indies one finds Spanish, French, Dutch, and even English towers built for forts and as much like that upon this St. Thomas hilltop as peas in the same pod. Right on the splendid Malecon in Havana there is one; several are scattered about Puerto Plata, Macoris, and other towns in Santo Domingo. They may be seen in a more or less ruined state all up and down the Antilles and the Main, and yet no one has the temerity to suggest that they were once windmills! Why, then, should any one try to destroy this almost sacred tradition of St. Thomas? Why try to rob the islanders of that one reminder of the buccaneers? No, let us not be doubting Thomases, but rather be thankful that this old-time haven of the pirates still retains at least one landmark that links it with the past. And there is no reason why Blackbeard should not have dwelt in St. Thomas in those days of his prosperity. All the Virgin Isles—Danish, Dutch, and British—were safe refuges for the pirates, retreats wherein they could lie in peace, where they could refit and careen their craft, could secure supplies, could exchange their loot for gold and silver currency, and could gamble and carouse to their hearts’ content. Very canny were the thrifty islanders in thus opening their doors to the freebooters. It protected them from attack, and it insured a lively trade. And they well knew that whatever they paid in good pieces of eight and golden onzas for plundered goods would eventually return to their own pockets over bars and gaming-tables, for the pirates were free spenders and money ever burned holes in their pockets. So we may feel sure that St. Thomas has sheltered many a pirate ship and many a famous or infamous buccaneer, especially in the great harp-shaped bay to the west of Charlotte Amalie, and separated from the harbor by a rocky peninsula. Here the pirates were wont to lie in wait for unsuspecting merchantmen bound through the Virgin Passage between the island and neighboring Porto Rico, until, to save their faces, the Danish authorities were compelled to request their welcome but disreputable guests to confine themselves to more peaceful pursuits while in Danish waters or else betake themselves elsewhere. CHAPTER III THE BUCCANEERS IN THE VIRGIN ISLES It was due to peculiar circumstances that the Virgin Islands and their harbors became neutral ground—or, rather, neutral waters—wherein the corsairs could be sure of safety, and where they never harmed the inhabitants or such peaceful craft as might come to trade or to seek refuge.