"Some o' those island chaps," remarked Sam Prentice, "ain't but a little better'n so many buccaneers. They're up to 'most any kind o' pillagin'. Do ye know, Lyme, the first o' the West Injy pirates, long ago, made their beginnin' with very much that kind o' open boat? It was a good while before they were able to supply themselves with the right kind o' sailin' vessels." "They did it, though," said Lyme. "Murderous lot they were, too," said Vine. "They never left anybody alive to tell tales of 'em." "Ugh! Ugh!" came from Up-na-tan, in a sort of snarl. "All Kidd men dead now. No come again." The Manhattan had seated himself upon a coil of rope and was busy with a hone and the edge of a cutlass, as if he hoped to use it soon. "No, they're not," replied Prentice, with energy. "There's enough of 'em yet. Some say they're gettin' worse'n ever within a year or so. This 'ere schooner's got to keep a sharp lookout for 'em, soon's we're among the islands." "That's so, Sam," said Captain Avery. "I'll tell ye one thing more, too. I'd ruther come to close quarters with a cruiser like that there British brig than with one o' those half-Spanish West Injy picaroons. Some right well-armed British and French fightin' craft have found 'em dreadfully hard to handle." "So would we," said Sam, "and I wouldn't at all mind sendin' one of 'em to the bottom. It'd be a matter o' life and death, ye know, for they don't show any kind o' mercy. Not to man, woman, or child." Guert listened intently, for he had already heard, year after year, a great many terrible yarns concerning the rovers of the Antilles. Part of his daily business, too, was to listen well to whatever he might hear, and he was learning a great deal in various ways. Brought up on Manhattan Island, as he had been, he was familiar, of course, with the external appearance of all kinds of shipping, whether of war or peace. He had also seen a great deal of boat service. Now, however, he had discovered that all this had not made a sailor of him. He was only a mere beginner, although it seemed to him that he had been getting along rapidly ever since he first saw the _Noank_. This was his first actual cruising, but he had spent a great deal of time on board while she was waiting in port. He believed that he knew every nook and corner of her. He could go aloft like a squirrel or a monkey, but for all that he felt dreadfully raw and green among such a crew of seasoned old mariners. Every man of them, almost, could tell of long voyages. They knew the Antilles well, and the other groups of American islands. Some knew more of the coasts of South America, some of Europe. More in number, and even more full of daring and of danger, were the tales he had heard of the whale fishery, with its glimpse of ice-fields, icebergs, frozen seas, and its combats not only with the oil-producing monsters of the sea, but with white bears also, and walruses, and