“And now let me digress a bit and explain how a British colony happened to be a notorious lair of the buccaneers. You remember that I told you about Tortuga and how the British and French freebooters had disputes and dissensions and that the English corsairs transferred their headquarters to Port Royal, Jamaica. At that time, you must remember, Spain and England were at war, and the British authorities gladly gave commissions as privateers to the buccaneer leaders. Thus they were looked upon, not as pirates, but as auxiliaries of the British navy, and even after peace was declared and they continued to prey upon the Spaniards, the authorities winked at them. They brought vast sums to the island ports, spent it recklessly and freely, and disposed of the merchandise they had taken for a mere song. As a result, the ports prospered and became rich through their dealings with the buccaneers; merchants and traders did a lively business, shipyards and outfitting shops sprang into existence; drinking places, gambling houses and every form of vice catered to the corsairs and thrived amazingly, and every one prospered. The buccaneers thus had safe refuges where they could spend their loot, refit their ships and organize their expeditions, and they were careful not to molest or injure the inhabitants or their property. Indeed, Jamaica’s prosperity was largely built upon the trade with the corsairs, and not until infamous Port Royal was utterly destroyed by an earthquake on June 7, 1692, and the ‘wickedest city in the world’ slid bodily into the sea, with all its riches and over three thousand of its inhabitants, did it cease to be a clearing house, a gigantic ‘fence’ and a haven for the buccaneers. Then the few survivors, frightened, feeling that the wrath of God and His vengeance for their wickedness had been visited upon them, moved across the bay and founded the present city of Kingston and paved the way for a respectable and honest development of the island.” “Gosh, I should think some one would go down there and get back all that treasure!” exclaimed Fred. “It’s rather strange that no one has attempted it,” said Mr. Bickford. “The water is not deep—in calm weather the outlines of the ruins may still be traced under the sea—and the native colored folk tell weird tales of ghostly pirate ships tacking back and forth at dead of night, striving to find the lost port; of the bells of the pirates’ church tolling through storms from beneath the waves, and of spectral figures walking the beach and gazing seaward as though awaiting ships that never come.” “Did the buccaneers have a church?” cried Jack in surprise.