“‘WHEN I WANT YOU MEN TO COME AFT HERE TO HELP ME, I’LL SEND FOR YOU.’”
“‘WHEN I WANT YOU MEN TO COME AFT HERE TO HELP ME, I’LL SEND FOR YOU.’”
“‘WHEN I WANT YOU MEN TO COME AFT HERE TO HELP ME, I’LL SEND FOR YOU.’”
“Who will run this ship, then?” asked the leader, levelling his pistol at the man starting up the ladder to the poop. He spoke in a low, deep voice, but so distinctly that the fellow hesitated.
“I’m running this vessel,” said Benson, “and when I want you men to come aft here to help me I’ll send for you. You’d hang the whole crowd of us if you had your way. Go back forward and if the grub is no good make the cook eat it—and then pick your own cook. Go back.”
But the men were angry and hesitated.
“Do you think Mr. Gore would try to poison you, you fools?” he continued. “What good would that do him? Can he run the ship alone?”
Brown, who had turned in, having relieved me during the last watch, heard the rumpus and came on deck through the forward door of the cabin house. The men were standing there and surrounded him at once. It looked as though he would be roughly handled.
Benson saw that some quick action mustbe made at once. He thrust his pistol in his belt and made a flying leap from the break of the poop, landing upon the heads of the men who had gripped the third mate. With immense power he swung them first this way and then that as the bunch rolled upon the deck. Then dragging two of them to their feet along with him, he shook them and shoved them forward. Johnson stood motionless with his gun ready and Brown climbed the ladder to the poop. In a moment Benson came back. “You see, Gore, what a mess a man can make of things,” he said, coolly. “I know you had nothing to do with the cook, or I’d make you eat some of the grub. Better go aft out of the way.”
It was good advice, and Brown followed me to the taffrail.
“It’s a pity,” I whispered, “that the moke didn’t use better judgment. If he had given a little less we might have had a chance.”
“It has given Benson an idea at any rate,” said Brown. “You can look out fora pain in the stomach when we sight the land.”
A man was detailed from the crowd of convicts to do the cooking afterward, and others watched him and took turns cleaning up. The moke and Gus disappeared. We never saw them again.
Aslong as the trade-wind lasted I managed to run the ship well enough with Brown’s help, for there was seldom much to do in the way of handling canvas, but as we neared the zone of variables things took a different turn. The third mate was not enough of a sailor to take advantage of the slants, and the heavy weather of the pampero was approaching. It made it necessary for me to be on deck most of the time, and even then I could not save some of the lighter canvas which was caught in a squall. The strain was hard, but Benson, who kept strict watch with his mate, Johnson, called me at any sudden change and spared me not at all.
One morning it fell dead calm. The sun shone through a sort of haze and the day was cool. We had made thirty-threedegrees of southing and were about four hundred miles off the Plate. The swell ran smoothly, but even through its oily surface one could see the swirls of the current from the great river. They formed tide rips which ridged the ocean for a space and then disappeared only to form again when a mass of water would force its way to the surface. The sea had lost its blue colour and it was dull. About eleven o’clock in the morning the sun broke through the haze and shone strongly. There was absolutely no wind and we lay drifting all around the compass. Suddenly, from a great distance, came the deep roll of thunder. The sky was now absolutely cloudless and the rolling crashes following each other at close intervals made an uncanny sound. Not a tip of cloud bank rose above the horizon, and the men about the deck gazed in some astonishment at the noise.
I knew it well, and knew it was the pampero from the River Plate. We would get a touch of it during the night and thenthings would be somewhat mixed aboard theArrow.
It started to breeze up gently from the westward about sundown, but not a cloud rose above the horizon. By nine o’clock that night it grew very dark. The blackness was most impenetrable. The wind came sighing over the smooth sea, and I began to strip the ship for the fracas.
We carried no running lights, as Benson didn’t care to be seen at night, although, for that matter, he would have been much safer than in the daytime. His ideas upon nautical subjects were at a variance with my own, but I made no comment. We carried a light in the binnacle in order to steer. Besides this single lamp there was never a light allowed aboard the ship except in the captain’s cabin.
I was very tired that evening, but stayed upon the poop watching the west on the lookout for the first signs of a squall. About ten o’clock there was sharp lightning to starboard. We were heading almost due south and our yards were sharp on thestarboard tack. Suddenly the blackness grew denser to windward. A deep murmuring came over the inky sea. Then a puff of wind smote sharply.
“Hard up, hard up that wheel,” I bawled, as the thrashing of the weather leech of the maintopsail warned me. Brown sprang to the wheel and with the man already there rolled it hard up. Then with a rush and droning roar through the rigging the pampero struck us.
Luckily, we had steering-way, for if she had not answered her helm on the instant, theArrowwould have been taken flat aback and dismasted, which would have meant a terrible ending for the desperate rascals. A dismasted ship in mid-ocean is usually a lost ship. The horrors of a boat cruise in overloaded small craft in that latitude meant the worst that could happen to the seafarer.
With a heel to leeward that brought the water well up on her deck, theArrowpaid off before the gale and tore her way through a sea which now shone ghastly and whitewith the phosphorescent foam. I looked aloft and saw that every yard-arm and truck held a ball of fire. The bellying lower topsails of the heaviest double nought canvas strained away like the wings of some giant bird in the night overhead. The roar of the wind rushing through the standing rigging and pouring out under the foot of the canvas made the cries of the men sound faint and distant, those on the yard-arms rolling up the lighter canvas bawling to those on deck in strained and frantic tones. None of the convicts had seen such weather before and the flare of the St. Elmo fires lent a ghastliness to the scene that might have made a sailor’s heart beat quicker. A man came close to me on the poop muttering curses and prayers and feeling about for something he probably did not want. A bright flash of lightning lit the scene, and I saw a crowd of men on the main-deck forward, huddled under the port side of the forward house. They seemed absolutely panic-stricken. However, we had some sailor-men aboard, and they worked manfullygetting gaskets upon the yards and the gear cleared up after a fashion. Then I managed to get the yards squared and ran the ship dead before the blast, leaving a wake flashing and whitening a full hundred feet on either side.
A flash of lightning showed Benson standing near the break of the poop. He was straining his eyes to windward and holding on to a line, but he appeared little concerned. Close by, leaning against the mizzen with his arms folded and pipe stuck rakishly in his mouth, was Johnson. Whatever the two ruffians felt, I knew that fear found no place in their hearts. They were trusting me to see them safely through, and all the time, whether they knew it or not, the thought of the girl below in the scoundrel’s stateroom was the only thing that kept me from sending them to hell. A sudden swing into the wind and a couple of cast off braces, and the fate of the villains would be as certain as death and suffering itself. Yet, there they stood, trusting me. I never could understand it, and I thought upon itfor some time that night in the black rush of the pampero. The futility of their struggles, the absolute hopelessness of their case, were all plain before me, but they were unconcerned.
Benson was a fatalist of the most pronounced type. He dealt only and simply with the present. The past was irrevocably dead, blotted out. The future was a mystery, absolute and unyielding to even the subtlest mind. He dealt with what matter he had in hand nor worried himself the least with that he held in no control.
On and on into the blackness ahead we tore at the rate of fifteen knots an hour with the wind upon our starboard taffrail. No one went on lookout, although I ordered a man to do so. Whoever went forward was probably swallowed in the crowd of frightened convicts, or took advantage of the panic to turn in and get some much needed rest. I knew we were entering the zone of commerce and would probably sight some vessel soon, and the thought of tearing away into the night at the wild ratewe were going without a light made me strain every nerve for something ahead.
It was about midnight that I thought I saw a light ahead. I called Benson and asked him to look, for my eyes were raw from the salt spume and want of rest. The fellow saw nothing, and we stood together gazing into the blackness beyond the jib-boom end. Then I suddenly made out a green light close aboard and to port, and I knew we were upon a vessel hove to in the storm.
We had been running with the wind drawing more and more upon the starboard quarter and I saw that it would not do to luff any further and cross the stranger’s bow. Besides, he might be going ahead some in spite of the sea which was now running heavily. There was not a second to lose, and I sprang to the wheel and rolled it up to pass his stern. Almost before the lubber’s mark began to shift, the green light disappeared and the blackness ahead took form. Right in front of us lay an immense shipwallowing along under short canvas and not fifty fathoms distant.
Not a word had come from forward. Not a soul had seen her. Before any one on the main-deck knew of her whereabouts we were grinding along her stern, our yard-arms hooking into the vang of her spankergaff and tearing that spar out of her while our mainbrace bumkin tore away a piece of her taffrail. Hoarse yells came from her quarter-deck, and I heard distinctly a deep voice asking, “What ship is that?” but we went rushing onward without a word and disappeared. It was a close call. Benson turned his face toward me and I tried to catch the look of his eye, but it was too dark.
“I reckon we’ll not hit anything more to-night,” I said. “I’m about tired out and will leave Brown on deck to call me if there is any change.”
“All right,” he answered, coolly.
And I went below.
Onreaching the forward cabin, I turned to the table to see if there happened to be a bite of anything to eat upon it. There always had been in days past. In the darkness I could not tell, and I opened the door leading aft to see if I could get a little light from the captain’s room. The creaking of the straining bulkheads blended with the noise from the deck and in the semi-darkness made by Benson’s lamplight streaming through a door well aft, I seemed to hear the voices of the murdered as the shadows moved upon the deck. A figure flitted past me toward the door on the other side, and for a moment I believed I saw a ghost. The next instant I sprang across the deck and seized it.
“Let me go, Mr. Gore. Don’t stop me,” said Miss Waters.
“Good God, are you still alive?” I asked, more for something to say than anything else.
She raised her hand to her head and leaned against the bulkhead, sobbing.
“Yes, I’m alive,” she said, controlling herself, “I was not taught the trade of murder.”
“I didn’t mean that,” I said, hastily, and I drew her to me. As I did so I felt a bandage upon her wrist.
“Are you hurt?” I asked. “Has he injured you by trying to cut you?”
“No, I did it myself. It was the only way I had—I used his knife on both arteries. But why torture me with it—”
I said nothing for a moment. The anguish she suffered was clear to me. She continued in a low, strained voice which wrenched me the more.
“He only insists that I belong to him, him alone—that is all—and he keeps me with him nearly all the time. I am his wife without any form of ceremony. Otherwise I’m well enough.”
“Yes, it’s either that, or worse,” I spoke haltingly, yet with an effort at comforting her.
“You might have killed me,” she sobbed, “you said you cared for me, and how did you show it—by letting me live like this?”
“It isn’t easy to kill the woman you love.”
“And, oh, I can’t go over the side. I can’t go down into that black void beneath. It seems so horrible to think of it, the endless blackness, the vastness of it, the loneliness of this great ocean. No, I must go on, I must live. I could have killed myself with the knife, but he found me and tied up the cuts—No, it’s no use—let me go—”
“I’ll let you go,” I said, “but you needn’t hurry away. There’s no one coming below for some time and you might as well talk with me while we have the opportunity. I intend to get you out of the ship in a short time.”
She listened and grasped the edge of the bulkhead.
“How can you? Can you get me intoa small boat? They would certainly get us before we could row away.”
“I haven’t decided upon the manner yet,” I said, “but the time will be here shortly, and you must help me. There are many ways of getting clear when we get close to the beach.”
“But you are not to get ashore. You are to die with the rest. I heard him tell Johnson so the other night after the poisoning among the men. They are going to get rid of nearly everybody by leaving them upon the ship when she is set on fire. I’m sorry for you, as sorry as I can feel with my own trouble upon me, and I’m glad to be able to tell you, Mr. Gore.”
“You are telling me what I long suspected,” I answered, “but Benson is not a great sailor. He knows very little indeed of the ways of ships, although he seems to be informed very well upon matters of rascality. I think he’ll make a little mistake before he finishes. I suppose you are to go with him?”
“Yes, he will take me along until he tiresof me, I suppose. Then I’ll find the same fate as the rest.”
“Has he told anything of his future plans?” I asked.
“Only that when you get them within thirty or forty miles of the coast, they will take to the small boats. They will get all the boats overboard and alongside, with what plunder they can carry. Then the half-dozen or more who are to get away will get into the small boats and get clear of the ship while Benson sets her on fire. He is to jump overboard and be picked up at once, and then they will row off so the rest can’t get to them.”
“It’s an excellent scheme, and does its developer great credit,” I said; “but how about the arms? Won’t the convicts fire on the boats when they find they are left aboard a burning ship?”
“I really don’t know about those details,” said Miss Waters. “I’m only telling what I overheard. If you think you can do something to stop them, I’ll do anything to help you. Don’t spare me in any way, and don’tmind what risk I have to take. Nothing could be any worse for me.”
“It’s a pretty bad business,” I agreed. “Brown is the only man left aboard I can trust to help us if anything turns up. Has Benson told you anything about himself?”
“Only that he has no money to get away with, nothing to pay his expenses to some foreign country, where he hopes to live quietly until the affair is forgotten. He is going to take the first vessel we meet to loot her and get what he may.”
“I see,” I said; “perhaps he will have a chance very soon. We are in the lanes of ocean travel, and it’s likely we’ll overhaul a vessel before many days pass. Maybe we will have a chance. I’m to do my share, I suppose he told you?”
“If I thought you would, I would not be talking to you. You may be afraid to die, as I am, but I don’t think you’ll turn pirate.”
Afraid to die? The sound of the words rang clear. Was I afraid to die? Good God! I who had faced some pretty hard happenings.I certainly didn’t want to die, but I had never thought of it in the way she put it. I didn’t rightly know whether I was afraid to die or not. It was so different for a man. I could go into a fight with a joyful heart, without a thought of dying; the possibility of death never occupied space in my thoughts. But to sit down in cold blood and kill myself to avoid some wrong thrust upon me by some one else? That was a different matter. I thought of O’Toole. He certainly was not afraid of anything in any form.
“No, I don’t know whether I’m afraid or not,” I said, slowly. “Certainly I don’t blame you for hesitating. You tried once when your courage was high, and now you admit you are afraid. I know I’m no braver than you.”
“You are good and kind, anyhow,” she answered. “I feel that you are sorry for me, that you will be my friend—”
“I shall certainly be your friend. I am your devoted friend, if you will have me for one,” I said, “and as for yourself, youhave done the only thing you could do. As you say, you have not been schooled in the murder line.”
She held out her hand and I took it, holding it for some moments.
“Whatever has happened to you will make no difference in my feelings,” I said. “We must forget the past and deal with the present. You have done as much as any woman could, and that is all you could do. Stand by while I cast about for some means to get rid of the villains.”
“No, no—you must forget me—only as a friend,” she panted, trying hard to hold back the sobs. “I must live my life alone—and I must go now before he suspects me. If he knew I talked with you, he would kill you.”
I drew her to me and kissed her.
The next moment she had disappeared, going through the cabin and into the stateroom of the villain who even now stood on deck just overhead. I was tempted again to go on deck and stand near him, close to the rail. In the darkness a sudden rush andthrust from my knife, and no one might see the outcome. But, no, it would only make matters worse. The daylight would show the leader missing, and I could not hold the gang in check. I finally made my way to my room and turned in.
Themorning dawned upon a wild sea. We were running off to the eastward so fast that it was necessary to stop theArrow. The tremendous sea following us threatened several times to board, and about nine o’clock in the morning a big fellow fell in the waist. A dozen men were standing near the galley door when the water fell on deck, and a full hundred tons of it thundered upon the rascals. All forward disappeared in the white smother, and I had just a glimpse of a puff of white steam mingling with the storm of spray and splinters. The whole side of the galley had been swept away and the place gutted, the double planking being torn off as though a heavy shell had struck and exploded within.
Six men were carried overboard with the wash, and nothing could be done for them.They passed out of sight before we recovered from the shock of the rushing water. Benson stood near me on the poop and smiled grimly.
“She won’t stand many like that, will she?” he asked.
“One or two more will finish her,” I assented. “We will have to stop her.”
By desperate endeavour I managed to get some men to the braces, and after half an hour’s hard work hove theArrowto in as mighty a sea as ever ran in the South Atlantic. She would drop her long jib-boom down the side of a hill of water until it dipped, while looking over the stern we could still see a long way up the slanting sea. It was a grand but disagreeable sight, for we were ill manned for heavy weather, and I had no officers except Brown to help or relieve me. But she rode it down without further mishap, plunging for two days before the gale subsided and allowed us to get way upon her again. Then the weather moderated and we stood along upon our course to the southwest. The stove wasrigged up in the galley, and the hungry men, now desperate with the hardship, grumbled and growled and showed a temper which boded no good.
We had made nothing toward our destination for some days, and when this fact became known, I was treated to growls and surly looks from all hands.
On the sixteenth day of our run we were about three hundred miles to the eastward of the River Plate and had crossed the thirty-fifth parallel. One or two sails had been sighted; but we had never raised the craft above the horizon’s rim, and the men had become hopeful in their security. But, with a gang of cutthroats, an easy, quiet life soon palls. After the danger of hanging disappears for a time, they soon become discontented for lack of excitement. They long for some new danger to interest them. The past is not pleasant to dwell upon and the present is dull.
On this sixteenth day the men were grouped about the main-deck in the afternoon, as had been their custom from thestart. Some were playing cards in the lee of the deck-house, while others threw dice or lounged and smoked in the gangways. Benson was below, but his trusty man, Johnson, was on the poop. I had occasion to send a man aloft to overhaul a leech-line, and the man who went up was a sharp-eyed young villain who had been to sea before and knew what was needed.
He had hardly reached the crosstrees when he hailed the deck:
“Sail on port bow!” he bawled, and pointed in the direction the vessel bore, which was just over the port cat-head. My heart gave a jump, but I tried to appear careless. I climbed up a few ratlines in the mizzen and looked forward. In a moment I saw a tiny white speck reflecting the slanting light of the sun. Then I looked down on deck and caught the look in Brown’s eyes. He was ready for action.
Our vessel had been fitted out for a long voyage, the run to China often taking five months; but the excesses of the convicts had quickly finished off the kegs of spirits andthe bottled liquors for the after-cabin mess. The three men who acted as cooks were kept busy all the time serving out the plundered victuals meant for the after-guard, so that after the first week Benson was forced to cut them down to ship’s rations. This had caused a mutiny, and it was only put down after a few men were killed and some injured. The effects of the disturbance were still visible and there was a good deal of loud grumbling done forward at meal-time.
Johnson gazed at the strange sail a few moments, and then told the man at the wheel to luff all he could and bade me attend to the bracing of the yards. I saw what he meant to do, and never did I jam a ship’s yards on to her backstays as I did them.
I believe the villain intended to commit piracy from the first; but, aside from this, he had such an overpowering taste for liquor that he was willing to run any risk in order to procure some, either by trade or otherwise, without waiting for Benson.
The wind held steady and we went through the smooth sea at the rate of eightor nine knots. The stranger rose rapidly on our weather bow, and it was evident that we were overhauling him fast enough.
At eight bells his courses were rising above the water, and my heart was pounding away under my ribs like a sledge. The men aboard us were about as poor sailors as, inversely, they were a fine set of rascals. Otherwise, they would have been suspicious, on seeing the depth of the stranger’s topsails, and stood away to leeward with all possible speed.
When I had had a good look at the canvas ahead, I could hardly keep from smiling, and I feared I might do something to show my thoughts. I knew no merchant vessel afloat hoisted a full topsail fore and aft.
“What is he?” asked Johnson, coming close to me when I came on the poop.
“I can’t tell at this distance,” I answered, “but he looks to be a West Coast trader. Most likely he is one with a mixed cargo.”
“There’ll not be many men on him, then?”
“No,” I answered, carelessly, well knowingwhat the scoundrel was thinking of. “Probably a dozen or fifteen at the most.”
Benson had now come on deck, and he, together with Johnson and the few leading men, held a conference as to what they should do about the strange ship ahead. It didn’t take long for them to decide after I gave them to understand the number of men they would probably find in the crew.
“There’ll be no trouble about overhauling him before dark?” asked Benson.
“None in the world,” I answered; “we can go ten fathoms to his one any time.”
“Then hoist the Roger and let him know his time has come,” said the swaggering villain.
Some of the more reckless spirits among the men had made a black flag and had stitched the canvas figures of a skull and cross-bones across its centre. They had never used it, and had made it more out of a spirit of bravado, while trying to kill time, than anything else. In a few moments it flew free and straight from the peak of the monkey-gaff.
The men were almost wild when they found it was decided to take the strange ship. Benson stood on the break of the poop and gave orders for getting things in readiness forward. Then it was as though a pack of wolves had broken loose on the main-deck.
Weapons were gotten out and cleaned. Cutlasses from theCountess of Warwickand sheath-knives from the slop-chest were carefully sharpened. Before the sun had sunk near the horizon, the black hull of the stranger rose above the sea, and the villains were ready to take him.
He was about three miles ahead now and drawing a little to leeward, so there was no trouble about him seeing our flag if he chose to look. I felt that he would be interested in its peculiar colour.
I passed Brown and made a sign for him to be ready. I fixed my knife where it would be handy.
Every moment was precious now. If the stranger would only see that flag before the convicts could tell of their mistake andcrowd on canvas and get the weather-gage, all would be well.
I watched him and saw the slanting rays of the sun shining on carefully scraped spars and snowy canvas, but no funnel showed above his deck and no ports showed in the long, smooth stretch of his shining black sides.
Suddenly something fluttered in the wind. I looked harder, for we were so close now that the British ensign could be seen distinctly as it stood out straight in the breeze.
Yes, I was not mistaken. Surely he was springing his luff and the canvas was slatting. Then I saw something that made my heart jump.
Up he came to the wind, and as he did so I saw a line of even breaks in the smooth black hull as he dropped his ports outboard. Then a puff of white smoke spurted from his side, and by the time the report of the gun reached our ears the convicts saw an English gunboat awaiting the explanation of the flying of that black flag.
Itwould be hard to describe the disorder and terror aboard theArrowwhen the convicts realized their mistake.
Benson roared and raved like a madman, and I expected him to vent his anger upon Brown and myself at any moment for having deceived him. But he evidently believed that I was as much astonished as himself at the identity of the stranger. Not being a sailor-man, he did not understand the language of spars and canvas, and had no reason to think that my eyes were any better than his own.
At all events, even if he did intend to settle with me afterward, he now saw that his own life and the lives of his men depended on my being able to run the clipper clear of the English guns.
The Black Roger was pulled downquicker than it takes to tell of it, and the American ensign run up in its place. But it was now too late to correct the error.
The stranger luffed sharply, and soon her main and mizzen yards swung quickly and evenly with the man-o’-war’s precision. Then, letting go his bow-line, he came about and stood across our hawse; at the same time clapping on and sheeting home every rag possible below and aloft.
We were a little to windward of his course now, but he was well ahead. I saw that when he tacked ship it would only be a question of minutes before we were right under his guns, unless we wore ship instantly and ran for it. Even then he would probably be close enough to knock the spars out of us before we could get out of range.
He was evidently determined to find out the meaning of that joke about the flying of a black flag on the high seas.
“Shall we turn and run, or try and pass him to the windward?” I asked Benson, hurriedly, intimating that the former waswhat I should choose, for I knew he would choose the opposite.
“Head your course, d——n you! If you fail to clear him, you are a dead man,” he roared.
The villain didn’t notice the smile I felt on my lips when he said this, or he would probably have finished with me then and there. He must have been much upset to have talked so wild, for he was usually cool enough.
“Get the men below in the fore-hold,” he bawled to his man, Johnson, and that fellow bundled them down the fore-hatch like sheep, leaving only about a dozen to lounge about the deck as if they were sailors.
By the time this was accomplished we had closed the gap between the vessels to less than half a mile. The Englishman was on the starboard tack and crossing our course with everything drawing. He was heeling over and driving through a perfect smother of foam, and I could see the men running about the decks as they went to stations forstays. He had gotten the weather-gage of us without difficulty.
In a few moments he luffed again on our weather-bow about a quarter of a mile distant. Then, without waiting to use signals, he fired a shot across our course just under our jib-boom end.
“He wants us to heave to,” I said to Benson, for it was evident that the gunboat was not going to be overnice about signalling to men who joked with their colours. Benson ordered me to dip the stars and stripes, but hold steadily on our course. As we came abreast, the stranger came about and lay right on our weather beam with his mainyards aback. I could see that he intended to board us. A second puff flew from an after gun, and with the report a shot tore a great hole through our foresail and whistled away to starboard, but Benson still held on.
I saw great beads of perspiration roll down Brown’s face as he stood watching us driving through the gunboat’s lee. It was a trying moment. If the Englishman fireda broadside into an American ship flying the ensign, it would be no joke for him if all was as it should be on board of her. On the other hand, there was much to justify him in overhauling a ship that had altered her course and set a black flag on sighting him, even if her name was on his register. It seemed an age to me as I stood there, hoping against hope, and I was thinking quickly and coolly of some way to check the ship should she drive past. I knew that if we once went through the Englishman’s lee he would let us pass, so I made ready for the end.
It was not long coming.
We were now but fifty fathoms from the stranger’s broadside, and I could see the men at the guns. I thought to hail him, but I saw that at the first word I would be knocked on the head.
Suddenly a man appeared on the gunboat’s rail with a speaking-trumpet.
“What ship is that?” he bawled, though he might have read the name easily enough,as it was painted on either quarter in letters a foot deep.
“American shipArrow, Captain Crojack!” roared Benson in return, as he sprang on to the rail at the mizzen.
“Heave to and I’ll send a boat,” came the hail.
“I will not,” roared Benson.
“I will fire on you if you don’t,” replied the stranger.
“I dare you,” roared Benson, in his most menacing tone. There was never anything like it. That man’s coolness and nerve would have made him an admiral had he not been a villain. He had a truculent way of talking that made people think twice before acting against him.
The Englishman hesitated at his audacity, and the ship, driving along with every rag a rap-full, went through the gunboat’s lee. I then saw that we would be allowed to pass free, and I knew that the time for action had come. As Benson turned to jump down from the poop-rail on to the deck I was in front of him, and he saw the look in my
“I FORCED HIM BACKWARDS TO THE POOP-RAIL.”
“I FORCED HIM BACKWARDS TO THE POOP-RAIL.”
“I FORCED HIM BACKWARDS TO THE POOP-RAIL.”
eye that told him plainly what I meant to do. Quick as lightning he drew his revolver and fired slap into me and then sprang to the deck. I felt the numbing stroke of the lead, but felt no pain, and the next instant we had closed.
I seized his weapon by the barrel as he fired again, and, although the bullet cut my wrist, it did not loosen or weaken my hold. Then I drove my knife into him with such force that the blade broke close off at the haft.
Dropping the useless hilt, I gripped him suddenly with both arms about his body, holding his arms to his sides. Then, exerting all my strength, I forced him backwards to the poop-rail. He brought up against it for an instant and wrenched his pistol hand free. Then I hurled him over the side. He clutched frantically at me, but I tore his grip loose, and he fell with a splash into the sea.
Glancing forward, I saw Johnson and a couple of men coming aft at full speed to their leader’s help. Then I saw Brownspring suddenly from behind the mizzen, knock the foremost ruffian headlong into the lee scuppers by a blow from an iron belaying-pin, and close with the rest.
Without stopping an instant to see the outcome of the affair, I dashed for the wheel.
The man there had seen the struggle on the poop, and he met me with drawn knife. But I struck him fairly with my right fist upon the point of the jaw, and he dropped like a log of wood.
Grabbing the spokes, I whirled the wheel over, and then plunged down the companionway into the after cabin. I heard a rush of feet on the deck overhead and the sharp cries of Brown, mingled with the hoarse oaths of frantic men. Then I drove full speed against the door of Crojack’s stateroom and crashed into the space within.
That poor, dear girl was—but no matter, there are some parts of every affair that are nobody’s business. In a second I had her in my arms and was leaping up that companionway, while the cries and oaths of the scuffle drew farther aft.
As I cleared the hatchway I saw the quarter-deck free ahead of me, and, giving a yell to Brown to follow, I plunged headlong over the taffrail into the sea. When I reached the surface with the girl in my arms, I turned to look back. I saw Brown hurl his belaying-pin into the crowd that had followed him aft, and as they chased him to the side he leaped over the rail on to the deck-strake. Then, running rapidly along the narrow projection on the vessel’s side, he threw up his hands and took a flying dive astern. When he came to the surface he was over one hundred feet from his pursuers, and the ship was still forging ahead from her headway, although her canvas was all back and everything in a mess aloft.
With a few strokes Brown reached me, and together we held the girl afloat and struck out for the English ship.
Those on board the gunboat had seen something of the fracas, and, as soon as they saw theArrowluff, they started to get out their boats as fast as willing hands could hoist them.
I swam easily, but I soon found that I was getting very faint, and that my breath seemed to burn like a flame in my throat and chest. I tried to tell Brown that I was going, but I could not utter a word. I remember seeing a boat approaching swiftly, and I remember noticing the even sweep of the oars until they appeared to row over my head and thunder past my ears. The noise was deafening, and my brain felt as if it were splitting with the roar. I put my hand to my head, felt something near it—awoke and found myself lying in a bunk on board of a strange ship. Then a soft hand brushed soothingly over my temples as gently as the breath of the trade-wind. A sweet voice whispered in my ear to lie quiet, and it made me feel so well that, in my upset state, I began to believe that I had at last cruised into the port of missing ships. I soon found, however, that I was not so badly wounded as I had reason to suppose, and that Brown was aboard there with me, his wounded leg doing well in spite of the twitching it received in that last rally.
Duringthe short time I was in the water, a desperate fight was going on aboard theArrow. Johnson, seeing how matters were turning out, rallied his men for a stand.
Five boats from the man-o’-war, filled with blue-jackets, armed and ready for the fight, drew alongside before the convicts could get the ship out of irons. She lay with her yards aback, and those who worked intelligently had their work undone by those who in their frantic haste worked like maniacs.
The boarders from the first small boat fastened to the mizzen channels, and, as they did so, Johnson dropped a mass of iron weighing two hundred pounds into the boat’s bottom, tearing her open. She filled at once and sank before the men could climb aboard. Benson, though desperately wounded from my knife, managed to get hauled backaboard by willing hands. He joined the crowd aft, and, holding to the taffrail for support, fired a double-barrelled gun with deadly effect into the approaching boats. A sailor fired at him with a rifle, and the bullet tore a hole through his chest, but he staggered back to his place at the rail and fought on. Two of the best, or rather worst, men in the gang used cutlasses with effect upon the men who crowded over the rail in the waist. An officer engaged one of these in single combat and for a short time there was a bit of sword-play. Then a sailor coming in from the starboard side smote the villain over the head with his cutlass butt and stretched him out for further orders.
Benson rallied the few followers aft, and together they forced a passage along that deck, with himself and Johnson leading. They joined the mass of men forward and crowded under the topgallant forecastle for a last stand. Within the slanting peak of the ship, and covered from attack above, they fought with a desperation that called forth all that was in the crew of the man-of-war.An officer led a charge upon the huddled villains, and fired again and again into their leader, who received no less than five bullet-wounds, any one of which would have let the life out of an ordinary man. But Benson still fought on.
The convicts, being badly armed and improperly drilled, fought at a disadvantage. The ranking officer of the boat crews formed his men in line behind those fighting in the press and then called a retreat. The advanced men fell slowly back, and the convicts were loth to follow and leave their shelter. Then the sailors fired a volley point-blank into the crowd. This was more than the ordinary man could stand, and many wounded threw down their arms and came out to surrender. But not Benson.
The leader, seeing that there was no hope, hurled his empty gun at the men in uniform. Then he seized a cutlass, and walked staggering and swaying toward the line of levelled rifles. One or two men fired and a bullet hit him upon the head, passing through and flinging him half-way around.He fell upon his hands and knees, but tried to raise himself, a ghastly sight. Three or four times he almost staggered to his feet, blinded, half-insensible, and dying, and then a man mercifully struck him upon the neck with his cutlass. His fight was over.
Johnson still resisted, but, under cover of the guns of the rest, three men dragged him forth and passed a lashing about him. Then the fight ended. In a short time the wounded were lowered into the boats and sent aboard the gunboat, while a few sailors turned to and cleared up the decks of theArrow. Several men of the gunboat’s crew were killed and several more badly wounded, and these latter were brought below to where Brown and I lay.
I now learned how theArrowhad been retaken after desperate resistance on the part of the convicts. The commander of the man-of-war, thePetrel, at first accused Brown and myself of being with the convicts in everything, and produced those papers we had written and signed to prove that they spoke the truth. But those papers did morethan anything we could do or say to clear us of the charge among our English friends, who were somewhat inclined at first to believe the statement of Johnson: that we only turned after being caught. Alice Waters’s statement did much to help our cause.
The result was that Captain Spencer and his officers treated Brown and myself with every consideration and abstained from passing any private judgment against us before we could be tried. He told us how he had sighted theArrowabout the same time we had thePetrel, and of his amazement when he saw us haul our wind and run up the Black Roger to our peak. He thought, of course, that the skipper of our craft was drunk and that the affair was intended as a practical joke to the gunboat. After we had gone through his lee with the American ensign flying he was afraid that he had already gone too far into the matter, and regretted his last shot, which had torn our foresail. He would have let us go, for theArrow’sname was in his register, and he had not the faintest idea of the true state ofaffairs on board. Having heard nothing of theCountess of Warwick, he had no reason to understand matters until after Brown and I had explained them. He put a prize crew on the clipper and sent her into the River Plate to be turned over to her agents at Buenos Ayres. When we reached England, Johnson made things look a little black for us at first. The villain had no scruples about perjuring himself to any extent, and he was backed by the rest of the ringleaders. But finally he and three of the latter were convicted of murder and piracy and hanged. The rest soon found themselves bound out on a voyage for the East. They never came back again.
Brown and I were cleared and sent back to the States, where we arrived safe enough, Brown’s leg having entirely healed and my chest having become sound again, except for a slight shortness of breath for awhile when I exerted myself.
ThePetrel’ssurgeon very gallantly informed me that I owed my complete recovery to a certain amount of very gentle nursingI had received, and not entirely to my robust constitution. As he had done little more than prescribe for me and oversee the dressing of my wound, it was evident that he did not wish to take this obligation to himself.
As to the nursing, I quite agreed with him, for the three weeks spent in a bunk on board thePetrelwere among the pleasantest of my existence—up to that time.
When Miss Waters and I separated at Portsmouth, it was understood that I should meet her again in the States. When I was released, after the trial, I found that she had already sailed for New York.
When Brown and I arrived there and had given an account of this disastrous voyage to Mr. Ropesend, it was only natural that I should inquire for the girl who had passed through so much along with us.
To my great surprise, the old merchant announced that he had heard nothing of her whatever since she arrived in England.
As soon as possible I hastened to the office of the line of vessels on which I had heardshe had sailed. I found that the vessel on which she had left England had arrived safely ten days since. Her name was on the passenger list, showing that she had arrived in America, but all my efforts to trace her beyond the point of landing were useless. She had disappeared and had left no clue that might aid any one to follow her.
Whena man makes up his mind to do a certain thing, half the trouble and worry over the matter are things of the past. It makes no difference whether he is able to accomplish his purpose or not, the agonies of vacillation are gone. Over the future he has but little control. Over his present actions he has complete.
There is always a satisfied feeling within a man when he has thought over the matter and decided upon it absolutely in regard to what action he will take.
This was the feeling I possessed during the six weeks I was on the beach, waiting for the return of theArrow. Mr. Ropesend still had faith in me and I was to take her out on her return from the River Plate.
The matter I had decided upon, however, was not exactly of a nautical nature,and I went to every known friend and acquaintance of Captain Crojack’s to get the information necessary to enable me to accomplish my purpose.
The apathy of the old sailor’s friends shown in the search for his niece galled me. I sometimes felt almost glad that the old man was dead, so he could not see the indifference of people he once thought so much of.
Brown, who was on waiting orders like myself, stayed with me night and day. He did not go to the office, and avoided all other society as much as possible, except when helping me in my search.
In this manner we passed the time until the vessel arrived. Then we took up our quarters on board. I was placed in command, but it was with anything but a feeling of joy that I stepped again on that quarter-deck, so connected with sad memories.
Every plank seemed to recall those terrible days when I was, perforce, a pirate. However, as I said before, a sailor has butlittle time to indulge in memories, so I shook myself together and started to get ready to put to sea.
Brown I had with me, but, although he had learned a good deal of nautical affairs, it was necessary that the ship should have two experienced men to relieve me. So I set out immediately to find them.
Our adventures had become thoroughly known to all long before this, and Brown and I both suffered from the charity peculiar to nearly all human beings. It was well known that we had joined the convicts, and the busy world had no time to waste discussing any excuse or necessity for our having done so. It was enough that we did it. The sensational newspapers offered a hundred reasons for our having done it,—all of them the worst possible ones,—and the people could take their choice or let them alone. They appeared to let them alone in order to form original ones nearly as bad, that were too unreasonable to bear discussion.
Boarding-house keepers eyed me curiouslywhen I entered their dens. Small knots of rough-looking men gathered and whispered whenever I entered any of the many dives where, I knew from experience, mates were in the habit of going to indulge their hard pleasures. Once or twice personal remarks were made in regard to myself in a tone loud enough for me to hear.
At one bar a big red-faced longshoreman made a jeering allusion to the part I played in joining the men who had taken my ship. It was a foul statement and I felt the blood rush into my face.
Then I turned on the ruffian like a flash.
It was a foolish thing to do, but the talk of so many had rankled in my heart until I lost control of my temper and I felt that I must bear it no longer.
I did not stop to argue the matter and set his reasons for my actions aright, but I lashed out and stretched him stiff on the floor. Then I looked the group over carefully to see if there were any matters of importance I might miss. But they were silent to a man. I turned and walkedslowly out of the room and down the street. I was not followed and I soon found myself on theArrow’sdeck with little hope of securing my mates.
It was late in the evening when I returned, and Brown, who had been at work on the ship’s stores, had gone up-town.
There was nothing for him to do on board after knocking off work, so I supposed he had strolled up the street. He had never left me before to go off in the evening alone, but, as we were to sail within the week, I supposed he had some private affairs to attend to.
I finished supper alone and then lit my pipe and strolled along the decks. The question of securing mates I would leave to the office and would trouble myself no more with the matter.
Men were lounging about on the slip between the vessels I passed, and gangs of longshoremen were leaving for the night.
I walked down a slip to where a Norwegian bark was being warped into her berth. She had just arrived and her blacksides were gray with crusted salt, telling of a long cruise and careless officers. The men on the t’gallant fo’castle had a line to the capstan and were walking it in with a will to the time of a chorus of hoarse voices.
Soon the vessel fell alongside the slip and I saw the voyage end. Then I turned and walked up the street, thinking of how a man can enjoy life after a six months’ cruise on deep water.
I soon became aware of two men following close behind me, who were talking away at a great rate.
“Yes, but th’ case av mine, it was different,” said one. “They come a-crowdin’ over th’ side like a swarm av rats before I knowed what their lay was. B’ th’ soul of St. Patrick! But didn’t I wade inter thim! Bang! Slam! I must have druv a whole ship’s company inter th’ main-deck like so many trunnels, an’ as fast as I druv thim in their fri’nds would pull thim out, till nigh on to three hunderd av thim hit me a clip on me burgoo case all t’onct—”
“Scutt! ye bloody old red-headed liar; there wasn’t half that many in the whole outfit.”
“’Pon me whurd, for a fact, Garnett, ’tis outrajis th’ way ye have av takin’ an honest man up whin he’s tellin’ a straight yarn. I’ve shifted more’n one man’s ballast for less.”
“Now, by the Great Eternal, if I wasn’t so old an’ stove up I’d make ye prove that, ye braggart,” growled the other; “but never mind, I’m too old to quarrel, as it affects my narvous system enormous. Stick to facts, man, always. I’ve no doubt that you were so scared that you thought they was a thousand. You always was sort o’ timid at times. ’Twas too bad about Bull Gore, though, wasn’t it? I’d never thought to see him come aback all standing like that. But it’s generally the way with folks what always think themselves better’n anybody else.”
“No more would I have thought it, Garnett. T’ think av him turnin’ pirit on one av owld Ropesend’s own ships. ’Tis a quare world an’ honest men ain’t most plentifulhereabouts. Had it been you, I wouldn’t have been surprised, for ye’re little better than an unhung pirit, anyways, by yer own account.”
“S’help me, I’d never disgrace a decent rope with a figgerhead like yourn. What—”
I had turned and stood face to face with old Bill Garnett and O’Toole. The next instant the old mate had grabbed my hand with a hearty grip.
“So it’s you yourself, Mr. Gore,” he bawled, “just turned up while this red-headed heathen was saying pleasant things about you. Blast me, but I am glad to see you, though I wish you had stayed with that gang a little longer. I might ’a’ joined somewhere, and with two such fellows as you and me afloat together, there’s no telling what might have happened in the South Pacific afore the year was out.”
“’Pon me whurd, Mr. Gore, what I said was but th’ truth, an’ it won’t stand atween two old shipmates, even if they don’t happen t’ be agreeable on some principles. Here’s me hand, sir. Ye saved th’ last av th’O’Tooles,” and the honest fellow held out his great carroty fingers, and I grasped them.
“’Tis a fact, ’pon me whurd, ye saved me life, sure, by makin’ thim cast me adrift, though I didn’t thank ye much at th’ time, seein’ a cruise in an open boat ain’t a pleasant trip for a man all alone in th’ calms. Yes, sir, ye saved me, sure, an’ I’m th’ last av thim. There was Reddy, me brother, lost in Chaney with th’ owld man, an’ there was Mike, me own cousin, on th’ West Coast, an’ I’m th’ only one left, an’ ye did save me—”
“Worse luck,” grunted Garnett; “’tis a pity you’re alive to say it, for it was the worst of all his crimes. I could forgive him everything else, but saving you to come back here and talk people to death with your bragging yarns.”
“Tell me,” I said, “how the devil you fellows ever got clear of the scrape.”
“That’s jist about what we would like you to tell us about yourself,” said Garnett, “and maybe you can explain to this low-minded Irishman the reason you were not hung. Come on with us, if you don’t mind watchingthis beast get drunk. We’re just ashore from that bark there, and we’ve got the night bearing dead ahead till sunrise. I’ll not be responsible for the respectability of the places this red-headed man’s steering for.”
I thought for a moment. I knew well enough that I owed my berth as master of theArrowsolely to the fact that Brown happened to be on board during her last cruise. If I left the matter of hiring mates to the office and had any difficulty with them afterward, it was an even chance that the influence of Mr. Ropesend would cease, and in spite of his friendship I would be on the beach for good and all. While I suspected the influence Brown had with the head of the firm was due to more than friendship, especially after the old man’s remark about my never having been married and having children of my own, yet I was by no means certain of it. Here were two mates I wished to have above all others, anyhow, for I knew them and they were my friends. I could count on Garnett, if he would remain sober enoughto talk to, and I made up my mind to take him.
O’Toole I was not so certain about, but I made up my mind to try him. So I went with him up the dirty street to Garnett’s favourite haunts in the neighbourhood of the Battery.
As we walked along the old sailor told how he had been overpowered along with the rest of the crew and guard on theCountess of Warwick, and how the convicts had taken to the boats after setting fire to the ship and leaving the whole ship’s company to burn.
One man had finally burned himself clear, and while badly injured had managed to clear one of his comrades. Then they were all cast loose and set to work to build a raft.
They left the burning ship while the villains were fighting us, and were not discovered by them. A vessel had picked them up the fifth day afterward, and a month later landed them at Cape Town. While waiting there a vessel came in, and off her walked O’Toole. He had been afloat twenty days inthe open boat, and was all but dead when rescued. His first desire appeared to be to give Garnett a thrashing for having been the indirect cause of his sufferings, as it was owing to Garnett’s steering that caused theCountess of Warwickto remain in our vicinity for such a long time. Had she been a few miles farther off that night, the convicts would probably not have noticed us. In the end, however, the mates compromised matters by becoming friendly again and sailing together for the States.
When we turned into the street that led past the office, I was astonished to find the lower rooms of that building lit up with a bright light which shone through the closed shutters. It was long after office hours, so, fearing there might be a fire within the building, I stopped and looked about me for the watchman. He was not in sight.
Without waiting any longer I made O’Toole and Garnett raise me on their shoulders until I could peep through the shutters into the room.
The gas was burning brightly, and thereat a desk sat Mr. Anderson. He was talking, with flushed face and angry gestures, to Brown, who stood quietly before him.
I couldn’t hear the words well enough to distinguish their meaning, but it was evident that something unusual was being discussed.
“What the devil makes you so long about it—is it a ghost?” asked Garnett, who was getting tired holding half my weight.
“No,” I said, “but it might be one soon if it were you in there,” and little did I think as I joked that my words were almost prophetic.
I came down and told them that Mr. Anderson was in there talking to a man. Nothing more was said about the matter, and we continued on our way.
The little scene I had just witnessed caused me to do some thinking, and before we reached “Old Ben’s,” I decided to see what was taking place in the shipping-office.
“You men meet me here in an hour. I have something important to tell you,” I said, as we reached the tavern door.
“Jest one drink on me,” said Garnett, “before ye go.”
We had one round, and then I left them, both promising to be on hand at the time appointed.