"Such was the first fight of 'The Angel of Death' and just such success (excepting, of course, the hitch about The Plank) rewarded the efforts of old Pedro for over twenty years. Up and down the Spanish Main he sailed, and the sight of that foresail, with its terrible picture of the Black Angel, struck terror to the heart of every man afloat. Even men-of-war fought shy of the three Pedros. Once 'The Angel of Death' rounded the Cape of Good Hope and attacked a treasure fleet on its way back from the Indies. On that occasion it captured so many chests of gold doubloons that they quite blocked up the social hall, where the crew used to hold their revels, and they had to revel on deck, until 'The Angel of Death' got back to Rum Island, where they buried their treasure. "Finally, old Pedro the First was taken sick. There was a fight, early one morning when the air was very damp, between the 'Angel' and a rich merchantman. The pirate captain got rather over-heated, during his usual duel with the captain of the merchantman, and then he foolishly sat down in a draft while he ate his breakfast. He had a bad attack of rheumatism, and it made it very hard for him to scramble over the bulwarks when he led a boarding party to the enemy's decks. The next time they put in at Rum Island the old man took his bed, dolefully predicting that his end was near. "'Just at this season, when the plate-ships are all sailing for Spain,' he grumbled, 'I don't see what I've done to be put upon this way.' "He got worse and worse, however, and the best doctors shook their heads over his case. He called in his son and grandson, and old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n,--the same one who came so near to botching everything in the first fight. He said good-bye to them all, and gave some good advice to the youngest Pedro,--who was a fine, promising boy, by this time. Then he passed away, and they gave him the biggest funeral that had ever been seen on Rum Island.