IIIIf the men had a friend among the officers, it was Mr. Every. I thought to see him turn sour with this slow making of his fortune, but not he; the farther into the doldrums we got, the higher he flew his topsails. He praised and petted the crew, spent some money on them, went ashore with them and even made chief cronies of a dozen or so, of whom I am sorry to say that some of my fellows in this condemned hold were a part.He loitered, too, a good deal over on theJames, which barnacled a few lengths from us, and made as good friends there as he did on his own ship. When the month of May began, there was always a confabulation going forward, with Mr. Every in the middle of it and certain chosen ones about him. And all the time my old commander lay grievously sick in his bed.How could I have any idea Mr. Every was stewing a mutiny? Yet so he was. On the 30th of May, in the year 1694, I was at evening in my cabin, thinking of home and wishing I had my wages to send to my poor, good wife at Bristol. At between ten and eleven of the night I felt the ship move.“Ho!” thinks I. “What does this mean?”I rushed out in my shirt and stockings to the under deck and from there up the hatchway. The wind hit me full in the face, and I could see the lights of town dropping astern.I stuck my head up over the hatchway; there was Every conning the ship.“Breakers ahead!” thought I. “Yaw away, old Bill May, afore you strike.”Every saw me at that minute.“You, May,” he roared, nasty, “I believe you do not love this way; get down to your cabin.”But see what the king’s evidence said about me. One Creagh, a dirty wretch, and now a prisoner right in this gaol for treason with Captain Vaughan, and one time aboard theCharles the Second, witnessed that at this going-off of the ship, “I met with William May, the prisoner at the bar. ‘What do you do here?’ says he. I made him no answer but went down to my cabin, and May swore at me and said, ‘You deserve to be shot through the head,’ and he held a pistol at my head.”Can you imagine a man who has fought for his king and country being a party to the crime of stealing the ship of a fellow subject? Not only that. The ship’s carpenter was a ringleader with Mr. Every in this insurrection, and Creagh—may he be eaten alive with weevils—swore the carpenter said in his hearing—“Old May I can trust with anything; he is a true cock of the old game and an old sportsman.”Was ever such a farrago told in a king’s court?Me, an old bird at the pirate game—me, an old sportsman—me, who would not demean myself to wipe my boots on that carpenter’s neck! Sam Parsons, who is now in Virginia, was standing by when Every drove me to my cabin, and he would swear to my truth.But does the king call him? Nay. But such treasonable scandalizers as Creagh—they get the run of the deck. Would the king, begging his Majesty’s pardon, bring a witness from Virginia to save a poor sailor’s life? Ask him!I could not stay down in the cabin for thinking of my old commander and what might be happening to him. I almost cried for my old commander. At the risk of my head I went to his cabin. Two men stood guard at the door with naked cutlasses; I begged leave to go in, and at length they allowed me.Oh, my poor old commander! He was red with fever, and the chirurgeon was anointing his temples. He got out of bed and began to dress himself, with me there to lend him a steadying hand.“Ah, faithful May—” he was saying, when in came Mr. Every, smelling of grog, and with a most impudent look.“I am a man of fortune, Captain,” he said, making a bow, “and my fortune I must seek.”“I am sorry this happens at this time,” said my poor old commander.“Come with us, Captain, and you shall still have the command,” replied Mr. Every.Says Captain Gibson:“No. I never thought you would have served me so, who have been kind to all of you; and to go on a design against my owner’s orders I will not do it.”“Then,” said Mr. Every, “prepare to go ashore.”What honest sailorman would not be plowed in his feelings by his old commander’s plight? Should I have been ashamed though my tears dropped upon the captain’s trembling hand? He looked kindly upon me as I stood there still in my shirt and stockings.“Go, faithful May,” he said at last. “Nothing will avail now.”
If the men had a friend among the officers, it was Mr. Every. I thought to see him turn sour with this slow making of his fortune, but not he; the farther into the doldrums we got, the higher he flew his topsails. He praised and petted the crew, spent some money on them, went ashore with them and even made chief cronies of a dozen or so, of whom I am sorry to say that some of my fellows in this condemned hold were a part.
He loitered, too, a good deal over on theJames, which barnacled a few lengths from us, and made as good friends there as he did on his own ship. When the month of May began, there was always a confabulation going forward, with Mr. Every in the middle of it and certain chosen ones about him. And all the time my old commander lay grievously sick in his bed.
How could I have any idea Mr. Every was stewing a mutiny? Yet so he was. On the 30th of May, in the year 1694, I was at evening in my cabin, thinking of home and wishing I had my wages to send to my poor, good wife at Bristol. At between ten and eleven of the night I felt the ship move.
“Ho!” thinks I. “What does this mean?”
I rushed out in my shirt and stockings to the under deck and from there up the hatchway. The wind hit me full in the face, and I could see the lights of town dropping astern.
I stuck my head up over the hatchway; there was Every conning the ship.
“Breakers ahead!” thought I. “Yaw away, old Bill May, afore you strike.”
Every saw me at that minute.
“You, May,” he roared, nasty, “I believe you do not love this way; get down to your cabin.”
But see what the king’s evidence said about me. One Creagh, a dirty wretch, and now a prisoner right in this gaol for treason with Captain Vaughan, and one time aboard theCharles the Second, witnessed that at this going-off of the ship, “I met with William May, the prisoner at the bar. ‘What do you do here?’ says he. I made him no answer but went down to my cabin, and May swore at me and said, ‘You deserve to be shot through the head,’ and he held a pistol at my head.”
Can you imagine a man who has fought for his king and country being a party to the crime of stealing the ship of a fellow subject? Not only that. The ship’s carpenter was a ringleader with Mr. Every in this insurrection, and Creagh—may he be eaten alive with weevils—swore the carpenter said in his hearing—
“Old May I can trust with anything; he is a true cock of the old game and an old sportsman.”
Was ever such a farrago told in a king’s court?
Me, an old bird at the pirate game—me, an old sportsman—me, who would not demean myself to wipe my boots on that carpenter’s neck! Sam Parsons, who is now in Virginia, was standing by when Every drove me to my cabin, and he would swear to my truth.
But does the king call him? Nay. But such treasonable scandalizers as Creagh—they get the run of the deck. Would the king, begging his Majesty’s pardon, bring a witness from Virginia to save a poor sailor’s life? Ask him!
I could not stay down in the cabin for thinking of my old commander and what might be happening to him. I almost cried for my old commander. At the risk of my head I went to his cabin. Two men stood guard at the door with naked cutlasses; I begged leave to go in, and at length they allowed me.
Oh, my poor old commander! He was red with fever, and the chirurgeon was anointing his temples. He got out of bed and began to dress himself, with me there to lend him a steadying hand.
“Ah, faithful May—” he was saying, when in came Mr. Every, smelling of grog, and with a most impudent look.
“I am a man of fortune, Captain,” he said, making a bow, “and my fortune I must seek.”
“I am sorry this happens at this time,” said my poor old commander.
“Come with us, Captain, and you shall still have the command,” replied Mr. Every.
Says Captain Gibson:
“No. I never thought you would have served me so, who have been kind to all of you; and to go on a design against my owner’s orders I will not do it.”
“Then,” said Mr. Every, “prepare to go ashore.”
What honest sailorman would not be plowed in his feelings by his old commander’s plight? Should I have been ashamed though my tears dropped upon the captain’s trembling hand? He looked kindly upon me as I stood there still in my shirt and stockings.
“Go, faithful May,” he said at last. “Nothing will avail now.”