CHAPTER XXIII.
NED’S FIRST BATTLE—THE SHIP ON FIRE.
NED’S FIRST BATTLE—THE SHIP ON FIRE.
After the action, the first thing the Skeleton Crew did was to examine the bodies of the dead and dying.
Some were cast overboard immediately; but those whose wounds gave some hope of recovery, were, for the moment, more mercifully dealt with.
For they were reserved for after tortures!
Tim was in an unfortunate position.
He was neither dead nor wounded.
But from the passing remarks of the Skeleton Crew, he almost wished that he had been dead, for he trembled to think what tortures and unearthly agony they intended to make all such as he was, undergo.
“What an unlucky devil I am,” sighed Tim. “I no sooner get out of one trouble than I fall into another; it’s out of the frying pan into the fire with me always. I wonder what star I was born under, for there’s no good fortune ever befalls me. Heigho! just hear those grim monsters talking. Why, the smugglers were gentlemen, compared to such fiendish devils as these.”
Tim crouched still more closely in his hiding-place.
“How many dead men have the smugglers left behind?” asked Death-wing, when they had all been counted and thrown overboard.
“Over a dozen,” was the reply.
“Good,” said Death-wing, with a chuckle.
“Just hear him,” groaned Tim. “I do believe, if there had only been three dozen he’d jump for joy. Oh! horrors upon horrors accumulate.”
“How many wounded?”
“We have found six.”
“Only half a dozen, that is not a great number,” said Death-wing; “there ought to be three or four dozen, at least.”
“Yes, so there would have been, Death-wing; but those who were slightly wounded jumped into the water, or into their boats, at the hazard of drowning or breaking their necks, rather than remain in our hands.”
“Ha!” said the grim chief. “They know us of old.”
“Hark! how the villain sighs,” said poor Tim. “I shouldn’t wonder if he hasn’t got tears in his eyes over it because they wouldn’t stay behind to be skinned alive, poor devils.”
“I wish we had but one sound man among the six prisoners,” said Death-wing. “I should like to make an example of him on the spot.”
“Oh-h!” groaned Tim, “I’m in for it this time; they’ll cut me limb from limb; but it’s better to die here like a rat in this barrel than to get into their hands.”
Tim, up to the present moment had not dared to poke his long nose out of his hiding-place, yet, out of curiosity, he now did, so as to see what they were about to do with their wounded prisoners.
The moment his head appeared, one of the crew with a loud shout of joy jumped towards him and seized him by the scurf of the neck.
In a second the poor fellow was dragged out of the hogshead, and pulled along the deck towards where Death-wing stood.
“What, another of ’em,” said the grim chief, with a loud laugh of mockery, “and armed to the teeth, I perceive! This must be one of the head leaders, I think; disarm him.”
In the twinkling of an eye, Tim’s blunderbuss, pistols, dagger, knife and cutlass were taken from him, and he knelt before the chief, trembling and quaking.
Around him danced several dozen skeletons in wild joy, snapping their fingers and making the most horrible noises.
“I think I have seen this rascal’s face before,” said Death-wing, with an oath.
“So do I.”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Are you not one of my worst enemy’s followers,—Wildfire Ned?”
“Me? lor’ bless you, no,” said Tim, “I never heard of his name afore in all my life.”
“Liar!” said one, giving him a slap that made his jaws ache again.
“Liar!” another one remarked, kicking him vigorously from behind; “didn’t we get up a tree after you, and you escaped?”
“Yet now I come to look at the rogue more closely, the more I am convinced he is one of young Warbeck’s followers,” said Death-wing, “and as such, he must—”
“Die!” said all, in a solemn chorus.
When the verdict was made known, the whole of the Skeleton Crew commenced dancing around him in a wild unearthly fashion, and as each came near him, they gave the luckless fellow a kick or a blow, until he was black and blue.
“Bind him hand and foot,” said the grim chief; “this rascal has many secrets to reveal about Wildfire Ned, and Sea-hawk’s gang; we must extract them all from him, or cut him joint from joint.”
“Bind him hand and foot, and tie him to the main-mast!”
This was done.
All the crew, save one, all the while stood round the victim, while Death-wing began to question him.
So silent were the crew upon extracting from him every item about Wildfire Ned, that they took but little notice of the intense fog which now enveloped the ship, or where it was drifting to.
“The first question I shall ask you,” Death-wing began, “is, do you know where Wildfire Ned is? if you do not confess, your arms shall be—”
At that instant, a loud booming noise was heard, and not far off either.
Every one rose to his feet.
In a second after an eighteen-pound cannon shot came crushing through the bulwarks!
“Treachery!” Death-wing cried.
Bang! crash! were the sounds repeated.
“Every one to his post!”
Whiz—bang! came another shot, and almost frightened off all the hair from Tim’s head, as he stood tied to the mast, and unable to move.
“Who are they? Can you make them out?” shouted out Death-wing to his crew.
“A frigate is bearing down to windward of us.”
“Steer the ‘Phantom’ in towards the shore! Double shot your guns! ’Tis the ‘Diamond’—I can make her out through the fog. Fire away! Never surrender! Up with the black flag!”
The fight now became hot and desperate.
Cannons flashed and roared, but still the frigate did not approach any nearer.
In truth, she could not do so.
They were too near land, and the “Phantom” was of a much lighter draught, and could draw less water.
Hence it was that Death-wing had the advantage of his enemy, for he now neared the land, and seemed bent upon stranding his vessel and escaping rather than surrender.
But he was much mistaken.
Although it was the “Diamond” frigate he was fighting, he little dreamt what was in store for his crew.
Although now the shots of the frigate took but little effect from the increasing distance, Death-wing was surrounded with dangers.
Lieutenant Garnet with one boat, Wildfire Ned with another, were pulling through the fog at a desperate rate towards the “Phantom” to cut it out from grounding, and were followed by Bob Bertram in a third, all of which were crowded with brave blue-jackets.
When least expected, Death-wing heard the gallant shouts of his fearless foes.
“Let every one arm to the teeth!” he said.
“Stand ready to resist boarders!”
Another loud shout was given by the blue-jackets as they pulled towards the vessel.
“Pour broadsides of grape into them!” said Death-wing.
In a second the boats bumped against the ship’s sides and were made fast.
“They are upon us!” said Death-wing, brandishing his sword.
In a second the gallant tars swarmed on to the ship’s decks.
The first to spring among the Skeleton Crew was Wildfire Ned.
With a loud shout he dashed at Death-wing and cleaved him to the deck!
Wildfire Ned was quickly followed by Lieutenant Garnet, who, at the head of his brave boat’s crew, cut their way up on to the decks.
And close at his heels followed Bob Bertram, supported by a strong body.
The fighting was now dreadful on all sides.
Wherever Wildfire Ned dashed he left behind him dozens of victims.
Tim was in great danger, both from friend and foe.
Glancing shots, and accidental strokes from swords and cutlasses came very near him.
By continual shouting he attracted the attention of Bob Bertram, who immediately cut the ropes and set him free.
Tim took advantage of his liberty to conceal himself as best he could under the bulwarks.
But he amused himself very greatly by pounding on the skull of one of Death-wing’s band, who had been literally smashed to atoms by Wildfire Ned’s blows.
The Skeleton Crew, finding that their vessel must now be stranded, and no hope remained of saving her, determined to blow her up.
“Fire the magazine!” roared Death-wing, high above the din of battle. “Blow Wildfire Ned and his followers to atoms!”
“Ha! ha! soyouare getting something for yourself this time, eh?” said Tim, as he recognized Death-wing’s voice; “but you don’t catchmestaying here if there’s anything of that sort going to take place.”
So saying, Master Tim crawled over the vessel’s side, and got into one of the boats, and lay there very snugly out of harm’s way.
Wildfire Ned, however, had a terrible task before him.
He wanted to find the missing bride.
He searched through the cabin.
But no trace of her could be found.
Not to be foiled he looked everywhere.
“Blow up the magazine!” roared Death-wing again.
As he spoke, a terrible thought crossed Ned’s mind,
“Perhaps the fiends have placed the young bride there!”
The thought was almost too horrible.
With desperation and vengeance in his face, Wildfire Ned leaped into the hold below, sword in hand.
Led by instinct, but why he knew not, Ned rushed madly to the stern of the vessel.
In the lower hold he perceived a long fusee burning.
There remained but two or three inches of it.
In a few seconds it would reach the powder.
“’Tis for life or death,” said Ned.
With a fearful leap he descended into the lower hold.
All was pitch-darkness around him.
Save the bright red fusee spluttering and burning not a glimmer of light could be seen.
He groped his way along the bottom of the ship.
But when least he expected it, he was grasped by a skeleton hand!
With an oath, Wildfire Ned drew his dirk.
A terrible conflict ensued.
One minute more, and the magazine would explode.
“We shall die together, young Warbeck!” said the skeleton.
And now began a duel which never had equal before.
In that dark hold they struggled for mastery.
It was a terrific struggle.
At last, with a mighty effort, Wildfire Ned snatched up a small hatchet which his foe had let fall.
With one fearful blow he crushed in the skull of his grim enemy.
With a loud shout and laugh of triumph Wildfire Ned ran towards the deadly fusee.
The sparks were even then sputtering near to some waste powder.
In a second more all would be lost.
He fell upon the fusee!
He quenched its flame carefully in his hand.
Next instant, with a mighty blow of the axe, he smashed in the magazine door.
With a cry of joy, Ned saw before him the stolen bride!
She was tied unto several powder barrels!
This was Death-wing’s especial order!
Ned cut the cords which bound her, and let in a torrent of sea-water into the powder and swamped the magazine.
The bride was insensible.
He took her in his arms and hurried to the hatchway.
Then a fearful cry was heard from above.
“I defy you!” roared the terrible voice of Death-wing. “In one moment more the ship will be blown in the air. Ha! ha! the powder magazine is open! the fusee is burning. Away, my men, away to your rendezvous on shore! One moment more and Lord Walton’s sister will be a black and charred mass—vengeance against Wildfire Ned! eternal enmity is between us!”
“The ship is on fire!” Ned heard Garnet shouting. “Where is young Warbeck?—the ship is on fire in two places!”
“Help! help!” cried Ned, from the bottom of the lower hold.
His voice was heard from above.
“Help! help!”
In a moment, Garnet and Bob Bertram, with a few others, threw down the end of a long rope to Ned.
Young Warbeck tied it round his body.
Clasping the unconscious maiden in his arms, he was being drawn out of the hold, when the flames burst out all around him.
“Quick! quick! or we shall perish,” said Ned. “Those Skeleton fiends have fired their vessel in several places.”
“Pull away, lads, pull away!” shouted Garnet.
The flames increased every second.
And yet with all the efforts of the seamen, Ned could not get higher than the lower hold.
The rope had caught in some bolt or block below!
Here was a perilous position.
The flames were now almost all around him.
He hung suspended between life and death.
In a second more the forked flames would catch the maiden’s dress.
Bob Bertram, without a word, slipped down the rope, and disentangled it.
A loud shout from above rewarded his valor and daring.
“Quick! quick!” faintly cried Ned, now almost suffocated with smoke. “Quick, quick! I am choking! Quick, Bob, or all is lost!”
With the energy of despair the sailors pulled away at the rope.
Yet all the time they had to fight against the vile Skeleton Crew, who every moment were trying to cut the rope.
Some were up the rigging, firing down on the brave men.
Others plunged overboard, and swam away towards the shore.
All was a scene of intense excitement.
Yet, with a tremendous effort, Wildfire Ned kept himself alive amid the dense smoke and flames around him.
With a ringing cheer he reached the deck.
“Saved! saved!” said Ned, and almost fell from sheer weakness!
But at that moment a low, rumbling noise like distant thunder caught the ears of all!
It was the sound of a mighty torrent of water rushing into the ship’s hold.
“The ship is scuttled! Away! away!” cried many voices.
In a moment more the ship trembled from stem to stern.
In a second she broke into halves!