CHAPTER XVII.
“And winds of all the corners kissed your sailsTo make your vessel nimble.”Cymbeline.
“And winds of all the corners kissed your sailsTo make your vessel nimble.”Cymbeline.
“And winds of all the corners kissed your sailsTo make your vessel nimble.”Cymbeline.
“And winds of all the corners kissed your sails
To make your vessel nimble.”
Cymbeline.
“Had not their bark been very slow of sail.”Comedy of Errors.
“Had not their bark been very slow of sail.”Comedy of Errors.
“Had not their bark been very slow of sail.”Comedy of Errors.
“Had not their bark been very slow of sail.”
Comedy of Errors.
The grey dawn of the morning found the crew of the man-of-war busily at work. The unwieldly machines clanked and reclanked as the sturdy sailors heartily threw their whole strength upon them, in raising the heavy sails and weighty anchor.
As soon as there was sufficient light to see, watches, who were provided with the most powerful telescopes, were sent up to the very top of the tall masts to survey the horizon, in order to discover, if possible, the pirate vessel, which was supposed to be hovering about at no great distance.
After a careful survey, the report was made, that farout to leeward there was a sail—that it was apparently a vessel which was lying to.
“Look again,” shouted out the officer of the watch, “what is she like? is she square-rigged?”
“No, your honor.”
“What sort of a thing is she?”
“She looks to be a fore-and-aft, your honor.”
Willmington was called, and, on being required to do so, gave the best description he could of the pirate vessel.
“It is likely the same vessel,” the officer remarked, after he had heard Willmington.
“Cheerily, men, look active.”
The sailors scarcely required any exhortation. They went through their work with more than ordinary good-will. In the first place, the idea of something like active service excited them, for they felt oppressed under the ennui of leisurely sailing from one port to another; and they longed to chastise the rash temerity of those degraded wretches who had the insolence to make an attempt of rescuing a prisoner from their lordly ship.
The majestic structure, therefore, was soon put in motion, and was now to be seen sailing magnificently before the wind. Gradually it gained on what was at first distant and obscure. As the ship drew nearer andnearer to it, the vessel grew more and more distinct, and could now be clearly made out as a long, low, rakish schooner. It was, in fact, the Black Schooner.
The huge vessel-of-war approached nearer and still nearer, but the schooner remained still stationary where she was. The sailors of the man-of-war prepared for action with enthusiasm. They could easily judge, from the shape of the schooner, and its peculiar rig, that she was the vessel of a pirate, if not of the pirate of whom they had so often heard. They saw their prize before them. The schooner, they thought, must yield to the superior strength of the man-of-war, and her conquest would be the easiest thing in the world. Besides, the little vessel could not but perceive their approach, and as she did not sail away, they argued there must needs be some cause, either mutiny or some other disagreement on board, which neutralized the authority of those in power, and which, consequently, would make her a still easier prize. They prepared their guns, on this account, with the keenest alacrity and lightness of heart, for men are always the more enthusiastic and brave when they are pretty well assured that they can command success.
The large vessel sailed down on the small schooner, that was still lying to, the standard of England wasalready waving from the spanker, the men were standing at their several stations, and the commander himself, who had now come on deck, was anxiously waiting until he came within gun-shot of the schooner, to signal her to surrender. The ship drew still closer, the order was given to make ready to fire, when ... like the shadowy fleetness of a dream, the masts of the Black Schooner at once became clothed in canvass, the black ensign with the cross bones and skull ran up the line on her gaff in chilling solemnity, while on the top of her raking masts floated two long pendant flags as red as blood, and the sharp vessel began to glide like a serpent silently over the waters.
Fearful of losing his prize, which was well-nigh within his reach, the commander of the ship-of-war observing the movements of the little vessel, quickly gave the order to fire. A loud and rending report of several guns at once echoed over the waves, and the shots dipped, and dipped, and dipped again, and fell harmless within a short distance of the schooner. The flag of the pirate schooner was lowered and hoisted, lowered and hoisted, lowered and hoisted again, in derision, as she steadily held her course. Another discharge ... and the shots sank as harmless as before: again the pirates lowered and hoisted their flags.
Every sail was set on the unwieldly ship, and her enormous studding-sails covered her yards and booms. Her hull could scarcely be seen, under the vast sheets that shaded her. The waves boiled up on each side of her bows, and like a whale, furious with a wound, she left behind her a wake of foam.
The Black Schooner glided along like a slender gar. Confident of the fleetness of their vessel, the pirates seemed inclined to mock the large and threatening fabric that was pursuing them. Ever and anon they changed their tack, and the vessel itself, which seemed to anticipate their wishes, played gracefully on the blue surface.
When all the ship’s studding-sails were set, and she was sailing rapidly before the wind, they would suddenly change their course, and draw their obedient vessel as close as possible up to the wind. As soon again as the man-of-war went through the labour of taking in her superfluous sails, again they would change their course. Now they shortened their sails, and then, as the ship gained on them, they had them up again as if by magic. Now they sailed away to a great distance, and then tacked and returned as if to meet and brave the pursuers; all the time, however, they kept out of the reach of the man-of-war’s guns with astonishing precision.
The chase continued thus the whole day, until night came and veiled pursuer and pursued.
Vexed with disappointment, and irritated by the taunts of the pirates, the commander of the man-of-war ordered the sails to be taken in, and the vessel to be luffed up into the wind. The order was immediately obeyed, and the crew, in thorough disgust, went away from the station to which they had that morning rushed with so much buoyancy.
It was, indeed, sufficient, to try the moral fortitude of the most philosophical. On one side there was a large heavy vessel, of size sufficiently huge to have crushed two such vessels as the pirate-schooner, from mere contact: on the other was that small and light vessel, which could be so easily destroyed, but which, notwithstanding the most eager desire on the part of the commander and crew to capture her, had so tantalizingly escaped them. After the continued chase of a whole day, the large vessel had proved as impotent and as incapable of carrying out their wishes, as a piece of floating timber; and what was still more galling, they had, in addition, been exposed to the most annoying derision of the pirates. Worse again, there was no probability of her being able, at any time, to overtake the schooner; for it was tooclear that their large vessel could not sail so fast as she. The only chance of their capturing her was, in their taking her by surprise, an event which could not be reasonably calculated upon, when the pirates exhibited so much prudence and precision. The sailors, therefore, doggedly retired to their respective cots, muttering all the while, strong and complicated oaths against the individual who built the fast-sailing schooner.
As for the commander himself, he bore the disappointment with the less dumb patience, as the discipline of the ship did not bind him down to so much silence, as it did the crew. He fumed only as seamen can fume, and vowed, in the extremity of his anger, that he would perpetrate, Heaven only knew, what extent of cruelty,—which he never meant,—upon the insolent pirates, if he once had them in his power.
When calmer moments, however, succeeded to his wrathful feelings of disappointment, he began to think deeply on the course which it was prudent to adopt, in order to have a probable chance of capturing or destroying the schooner. The batteries and the crew of the ship, he rightly concluded, were of no use against an enemy that was sufficiently wise and experienced always to keep beyond the range of his guns; and, as for overtaking the schooner, it was a matter of absolute impossibility.He could decide on no clear plan. He, therefore, resolved, in that conjuncture, to sail about in those parts under little canvass, and trust to accident for a means of capturing the pirate vessel. The ship was, therefore, kept under only a part of her sails that whole night, and she moved almost imperceptibly.
At the first dawn of the next morning, watches were sent up the masts, and the horizon was carefully surveyed in search of the enemy which night had shrouded. Nothing was to be seen. The watch was, nevertheless, continued.
About four hours after sunrise, a vessel could be barely distinguished on the horizon. It was steering in the direction of the man-of-war. It rapidly approached, and as it drew nearer and nearer, it was discovered to be a long, low, sharp-built brig, with white port-holes, apparently a Mediterranean trader. She sailed so fast, that within three hours from the time when she was first discovered, she was opposite the large ship. She passed her at a short distance, but beyond the range of her guns.
The man-of-war immediately hoisted her ensign as a signal to the brig to show her colours; in answer to this signal, the strange vessel hoisted the Mexican flag.
The extraordinary speed of the strange brig, her lowhull, the more than ordinary symmetry of her make and rigging, could not pass unobserved. They at once attracted the notice, and called forth the admiration of the sailors on board of the man-of-war; and leaning carelessly on the bulwarks, they were studying the beautiful brig before them, and were viewing her with the delight that seamen experience when they see a fine vessel.
“If that ain’t that ere identical pirate customer as we chased yesterday,” said an old grey-headed sailor, gravely, as he stood looking at her, “it’s one of the same sort, I know.”
“What are you saying, now,” asked a young man next to him.
“Why, the vessel we chased yesterday was a fore-and-aft schooner, and this one is a brig: where are your eyes?”
“Is this all you know?” inquired the old tar, indifferently, with a slight satirical smile. “Well, let me tell you, younker, that them ere customers change their skins, just like snakes, by G—d; and these eyes of mine that you inquire of, winked at a sou-wester long before you knowed what was what, my boy,” and the old seaman walked away to attend to some passing occupation, while, from time to time, he cast a stealthy lookfrom under his spreading straw hat, at the vessel he seemed to hold in suspicion.
This feeling towards the Mexican brig was not confined to the common sailors alone: all seamen have an eye for the beautiful in ships. The commander himself was struck by the remarkably fine proportions of the vessel. He interrupted his habitual walk to gaze at her.
“A fine craft that is, Charles,” said he to his son.
“Yes, sir,” replied the latter, “a very beautiful model.”
“Look at her run, what a beautiful stern, and how sharp at the bows!” continued the old gentleman, with enthusiasm.
“And how remarkably fast she sails, too,” rejoined Charles.
“Hum!” remarked the old gentlemen, “she seems very light to be a trader.”
“It strikes me so, too,” replied Charles.
“The merchant who could have built that vessel to carry cocoa and coffee, must have been a very great fool, Charles,” continued the commander, still looking at the tidy brig that was sailing away magnificently before him.
“Yes, sir.”
“I begin to have my suspicions, Charles,” resumedthe commander, after a pause, “that Mexican flag protects many a rascal: I shall make the fellow heave to.”
So saying, he ordered a gun to be fired, as a signal to the brig to lie to. The report of the huge machine of destruction rang over the waters, and the shot skipped the waves and sank. The suspicious brig paid no attention to it, but held her course, and, in four hours’ time, went out of sight, leaving the commander in now stronger suspicion with regard to her nature and character, and, in a furious rage into which he was thrown by the cool contempt with which his command was treated. He looked at the brig that was leaving his vessel behind, as if the latter was at anchor, and fretted, when he considered that his large ship was unable to enforce his order on account of its comparative slowness. With greater impatience than reason he looked only at what was, for the moment, a defect in the large man-of-war, and forgot, at the time, that if the two small vessels which had so mortified him, those two consecutive days, had over his ship the accident of speed, she, in her turn, possessed the infinitely more serviceable advantage of greater strength and more heavy metal.
“Well, younker,” said the same old sailor of the morning, to the same young man who had doubted hispenetration, “well, younker, what do you think of that ere customer now, eh? He has the wind in his maintopsail, has’nt he? and seems to have plenty of pride of his own, and won’t speak to nobody. Ay, ay, them customers, never throw away words or shots, I know. Come, younker, I’ll give you another wrinkle,” continued the old tar.
“Well, let’s have it?”
“Mark my word,” continued the old sailor, in a low and mysterious tone, “if you don’t see that ere customer again, before long, my name is not what it is, I know,” and winking impressively on his hearers, he rolled away chuckling with self-satisfaction.
The man-of-war continued there the remaining portion of that day and the night which ensued: nothing happened, during that period of time, to relieve the longing anxiety of the man-of-war’s people.
The next morning the usual watches were again sent up the masts. About noon, a vessel came in sight. It was steering, like the one of the previous day, directly towards the man-of-war; and seemed to approach her with an equal degree of speed. As she drew nearer and nearer, she was made out to be a light brigantine, such as those that are to be seen on the Mediterranean. Strange, however, the hull and make seemed to be thesame as those of the vessel spoken the day before: but the new comer, instead of painted port-holes, had but a plain white streak.
The men evinced the same admiration for this “craft,” to use their own term, as they did for the one of the day before. There was, however, such a striking similarity in the hulls of the two vessels, that their admiration soon gave place to a feeling of mixed surprise and suspicion.
“What can those two crafts be?” they mutually asked each other.
“They are men-of-war,” some answered: “but where are the port-holes of this customer?”
“By jingo! I think they are pleasure boats,” said one.
“Oh, no, they look to me like Malaga boats,” said another.
“But they are of the same make,” observed a third.
“Ay, ay, don’t you see they are sister-vessels, fools, and are on the same voyage?” said another, gravely, who, up to that time, had maintained unbroken silence, and had, with the aid of a serious aspect, looked wisdom itself.
“Ay, that’s it, that’s it,” they all cried, at this suggestion, “they belong to the same owner, and are on the same voyage.”
All seemed to concur in this opinion, except the same old sailor, who, on the previous day, regarded the Mexican brig with so much suspicion. He seemed to entertain doubts about this new vessel, as he did with regard to the other.
“Well, younker, what do you think of this fresh gentleman, now?” he said, satirically, to the unfortunate young man who had offended his self-esteem, and who seemed now to be entirely devoted to the revengeful ridicule of that elder son of Neptune.
“Don’t know,” was the crabbed reply.
“Don’t know, eh? you will know, perhaps, when them young eyes of yours have squinted oftner at the sun, my hearty, hi, hi, hi!”
The brigantine drew nearer and nearer, and seemed carefully to measure the same distance at which the brig of the day before had passed. She came with her sails filled with the fresh breeze, and was passing the man-of-war, when one of the heavy guns of the large vessel was fired. The shot fell across the brigantine’s bows, but at some distance from her.
Her sails still bellied with the wind; she still skipped along, and the beautiful and pure white wavelets of foam still swelled on each of her sides.
“Who the devil you may be, I shall have you to-day,”said the commander, looking intently fierce at the brigantine. “Give him another shot.”
Another deafening report was heard, and the grey smoke shrouded for a moment the dark riggings of the war-vessel, and then grew thinner and thinner, and rose above her masts.
A moment after, four flags ran up the peak of the brigantine.
“Ho! read what the fellow says, Mr. Cypher,” cried the commander, with no small degree of excitement, “he hears what we can say, I see.”
Mr. Cypher took the telescope.
“Y,” he said, “O,” he continued, “U,”—“YOU,” he proclaimed, with a loud voice.
“Hoist the answering pendant:” it was done.
The first four flags of the brigantine were now lowered, and four others hoisted in their place.
“A,” proceeded Mr. Cypher, deciphering the new signal, “R,” “E,”—“ARE,”—“you are.”
“Hoist the answering pendant:” it was done again.
The four flags were again lowered on board the brigantine, and four new ones were again hoisted. They were read, and were found to signify ‘too.’
“What can the fellow want to say?” inquired the commander, vaguely: “answer his signal.”
The signal was answered, and other flags were again hoisted on board the brigantine. When all the signals were taken together, they read—
“You are too far, your guns don’t carry.”
While at the conclusion of the process of exchanging signals, the broad black flag, with its head and bones, was spread over the mainsail.
“The rascals,” muttered the old commander, as he moved away from the bulwarks, with indignant disgust, “it is the same set, may the devil take them!”
“Ha, younker, what d’you see now, eh? You will believe old Jack Gangway another time, I know,” said the same old sailor, who all along had been so knowing and so suspicious.
“Crack on, crack on,” cried the old commander, “and haul your wind, we may edge up to her on a close bowline, and let her feel our metal.”
All the sails of the large vessel were now set. She was drawn closely to the wind, and leaned under the fresh breeze.
No sooner was this manœuvre completed, than the brigantine’s sails were also trimmed, her long yards were braced sharp; her vast mainsail was pulled in almost on a line with her rudder, and her head was put almost into the point of the wind itself, or, as seamenwould designate it, into the “eye of the wind,” her stern was turned to the ship-of-war, and as she gradually left the latter behind, other four flags ran along the signal line. When read they said—
“Au revoir.”
And the black flag rose and fell, rose and fell again, at the mocking ceremony, that was intended to accompany this salutation.
This chase continued the rest of the day. The hours quickly fleeted by, and when gauzy twilight had shed its soothing and dreamy haze around, a few waves of the pirate’s flag, might still be dimly perceived, like the trembling of the phantom—leaves of dream; and then darkness spread its shrouding mantle over the ocean.
The sun had risen, the man-of-war was lying-to under one or two sails, the others had been taken in during the night; at some distance in the direction, in which the brigantine had disappeared, a vessel, apparently a wreck, was to be seen. She was a barque: portions of her masts were broken away; her rigging was slack, loose, and dry; her racketty yards waved from one direction to the other, as she clumsily rolled into the trough of the sea, or rose heavily on its crest. Theirbraces dangled loosely and neglectedly about, and either dragged overboard, or swung with a spring from one part of the deck to the other. In keeping with her disordered gear, her hull itself exhibited the greatest neglect and uncleanliness: the barnacles grew unmolested, to a considerable height, and the marks of the lee-water from the cuppers, stained her sides. The few sails which still remained on the unsteady yards were tattered and worn, and tied up in the oddest manner imaginable. The vessel had her English ensign tied upside down, in token of distress, on the little that remained of the mainmast’s rigging: an indication, which was not by any means required, in as much as the miserable manner in which she rolled about, was quite sufficient in itself, to tell that she was in a wretched condition.
As soon as the distressed vessel was perceived, signals were made to her to launch her boats, and to send alongside; but they seemed to be either not understood, or the people of the barque had no means of answering them.
But one solitary individual was to be seen standing on its deck, at the gangway, and wistfully looking towards the man-of-war.
The commander was not willing to launch any of hisboats, he had, during the three or four days that had lately expired been so much cheated by pirates, that he was now made more than ordinarily cautious, and he repeated his signals, and waited many hours, either to have them answered, or to force the people of the distressed ship to launch their boat and come alongside his vessel: but neither the one thing or the other was done.
“These fellows can’t be cheats,” he said, “else they would have sailed away, though, it strikes me, it would be difficult for them to spread a sail on those yards of theirs,” said the commander, as his good feelings began to press upon him.
“They may be starved to death, or ill, have a boat launched, sir,” said he to the officer, after this short soliloquy, “and let them pull to those poor fellows. Tell the officer he must not let any of the men go on board, he may do so himself, if he thinks it necessary.”
Joyfully the true-hearted sailors, eager to succour their suffering brothers, lowered a boat, which a moment afterwards was bounding away in the direction of the distressed vessel.
They soon approached near enough to admit of speaking, and at his order, the men rested on their oars to allow the midshipman in command to hail the barque.
“What ship is that?” asked the midshipman.
“The Sting,” answered the solitary individual, who was standing at the gangway.
“Where from, and whither bound?”
“From Pernambuco to Liverpool,” answered the individual.
“What cargo?” demanded the midshipman.
“Cayenne pepper,” answered the individual.
“What is the matter with you?” asked the midshipman.
“Have been boarded by pirates—by a Black Schooner—men cut down in defending the vessel—the pirates left but me and another man, who is now ill below—they took away every thing,” answered the individual.
“It must be those same devils of pirates,” whispered the boatmen one to the other, “who have raked that cove; what fellows they seem to be, we will singe them some of those days though—be damn’d if we don’t.”
“If you would only let one of your men come on board for a moment to help me trim the yards, I should be all right,” added the individual at the gangway.
“Hum!” muttered the young midshipman; “that’s not much, but I fancy, old boy, you will do yourself no good in setting your sails, unless you wish the wind tohelp you take them in. Pull along side, men,” he said, after a second or two, “I shall go on deck and help him.”
The boat soon boarded the vessel.
“Keep the boat off,” said the officer, as he grasped the ropes of the steps.
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the boatswain, and the boat was shoved off from the vessel.
A shrill sound was heard, the apparent sides of the distressed barque opened, the stern fell heavily into the water, the racketty yards and old ropes went over the side, and from amidst the wreck of the skeleton ship, the Black Schooner sprang forth as she felt the power of her snow-white sails, which, with the rapidity of lightning, had now clothed her tall masts.
This metamorphosis was so sudden, that the schooner had already begun to move before the boatmen comprehended the change. They quickly pulled alongside, and fastened their hooks, but no hand of man could hold them. They were all torn away by the speed with which the schooner went. Every man in his turn let go his hold, and the boat, with its angry crew, was left floating far behind in the wake of the flying schooner.