breeze was
rustling
and
tumbling
in the
woods and
ruffling
the grey
surface of
the
anchorage;
the tide,
too, was
far out,
and great
tracts of
sand lay
uncovered;
the air,
after the
heat of
the day,
chilled me
through my
jacket.
The
Hispaniola
still lay
where she
had
anchored;
but, sure
enough,
there was
the Jolly
Roger –
the black
flag of
piracy –
flying
from her
peak. Even
as I
looked,
there came
another
red flash
and
another
report
