THE PIRATE SHIP One green light squinting over Kidd’s Creek, which is near the mouth of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the _Jolly Roger_, lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers. She was the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she floated immune in the horror of her name. She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from her could have reached the shore. There was li…