During the meal Dickory briefly told his story, confining it to a mere statement of his escape from the pirates.

“Blackbeard!” exclaimed the man.  “Truly you did well to get away from him, no matter into what forests you plunged or upon what desert island you lost yourself.  At any moment he might have turned upon you and cut you to pieces to amuse himself.  I have heard the most horrible stories of Blackbeard.”

“He treated me very well,” said Dickory, “but I know from his own words that he reserved me for a most horrible fate.”

“What!” exclaimed the man, “and he told you?  He is indeed a demon!”

“Yes,” said Dickory, “he said over and over again that he was going to take me to England to marry me to his daughter.”

At this the wife could not refrain from a smile.  “Matrimony is not generally considered a horrible fate,” said she; “perhaps his daughter may be a most comely and estimable young person.  Girls do not always resemble their fathers.”

“Do not mention it,” exclaimed Dickory, with a shudder; “that was one reason that I ran away; I preferred any danger from man or beast to that he was taking me to.”

“He is engaged to be married,” thought the woman; “it is easy enough to see that.”

“Now tell me your story, I pray you,” said Dickory.  “But first, I would like very much to know how you found out that Blackbeard’s ship was not at her anchorage?”

“That’s a simple thing,” said the man.  “Of course you did not observe, for you could not, that from its eastern point where lies the spring, this island stretches in a long curve to the south, reaching northward again about this spot.  Consequently, there is a little bay to the east of us, across which we can see the anchoring ground of such ships as may stop here for water.  Your way around the land curve of the island was a long one, but the distance straight across the bay is but a few miles.  Upon a hill not far from here there is a very tall tree, which overtops all the other trees, and to the upper branches of this tree my daughter, who is a great climber, frequently ascends with a small glass, and is thus able to report if there is a vessel at the anchorage.”

“What!” exclaimed Dickory, “that little girl?”

“Oh, no!” said the man; “it is my other daughter, who is a grown young woman.”

“She is not here now,” said the mother.  And this piece of unnecessary information was given in tones which might indicate that the young lady had stepped around to visit a neighbour.

“It is important,” said the man, “that I should know if vessels have anchored here, for if they be merchantmen I sometimes do business with them.”

“Business!” said Dickory.  “That sounds extremely odd.  Pray tell me how you came to be here.”