living flame; meats that will put teeth into the throats of the toothless; treasures fit for thy queen’s treasury. And more to thy hand, my brave jackals, those pretty pieces of ordnance, which the sun even now paints with liquid gold, will outrange the guns of a king’s ship.” Pausing, she bent upon the murmuring crew a look of blazing majesty; then concluded with a vibrant demand: “Now dost know why thy queen withheld thy senseless hands from witless destruction?”

Her question was scarcely heard before the answer came. From a hundred rusty throats pealed a huzzah that rolled out over the sea and sent the sea-birds squawking with fright to more peaceful surroundings.

“Dolores! Dolores! That’s a queen for the tribe of Jolly Roger!” howled Hanglip, and tumult rang again.