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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