CHAPTERXVIII.
Among the Sargassons quarter is never asked or given.
The enemy were in possession of our upper deck, and had formed in a hollow square around the main hatchway, leading below. Prior to the engagement, a cover had been placed upon this hatch and securely fastened. Otherwise, some of the enemy would have been sent below to cut the throats of our wounded as they lay in the sick bay.
I was on the quarterdeck, and recognized the extreme gravity of the situation.
Although I had passed through many critical moments during my long and active career as a sailor and commander, I never felt the absolute imminence of death so keenly. I realized that I must meet my end bravely, but I confess that the thought that I must virtually compel one of these savage brutes to carve me to pieces, still alive, with the terrible double-edged knife that he carried in his hands, was not pleasing.
Every man on board knew that there was no hope of saving his life by surrender.
Earlier in the fight, Fidette had rushed to my side, and declared that if I thought the ship could be saved by her surrender, she would willingly give herself up. Naturally, such a suggestion was utterly repugnant to me, and I had rejected it.
The few brave fellows around me regarded the situation far more complacently than did I. Their breasts did not seem to be torn with the agony that lacerated mine. They viewed the approaching extinction as a mere incident, while to me it appeared the horrible crisis that it is to most men of our race. Besides, I had accepted the care of Fidette’s life, and was burdened with a responsibility that none of my companions shared.
As we stood there, prepared for a final and hopeless defense, we felt that within a quarter of an hour those of us who escaped the horrible knives of our assailants would be lashed to some part of the rigging and sent to the bottom of the sea with our scuttled ship.
I had sent Fidette to her cabin with the solemn injunction that she must be prepared for death. She proved to be a very brave and heroic little woman. She bade me farewell in a tender and affectionate manner, wholly different from the well-remembered parting with the trombone player, as he went over the side of the ship to a death that she knew was prepared for him. I felt that I detected real affection in the playful twist she gave to a lock of my hair that hung down over my forehead.
Every man’s experience fits his own vanity!
I had not forgotten the dear girl, however, and, racked as was my heart with conflicting emotions, I saw her, in my fancy, seated in her cabin, awaiting her doom.
There was only six of us on the quarter deck, but we were determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible. The rest of the ship’s company, many of them being unarmed, were huddled together at the bow of the vessel. We all carried heavy cutlasses, and had some sort of a chance for defense, while the poor fellows forward meekly awaited death, without hope of resistance.
We could see that the leader of the enemy was instructing his men. He pointed to us in turn, evidently assigning two of his assassins to each man. We were awaiting the onslaught with nerves at the highest tension,when suddenly I observed the eyes of our enemies moving in the direction of the starboard quarter. Something had diverted their attention from the vital instructions of their commander.
Turning my head, I saw my pretty Fidette, arrayed in her newest and brightest sea-grass, shell-bespangled dress, creeping above the gunwale of the ship, evidently from the window of her cabin. There was a sweet and gentle smile upon her face. Her long tresses, carefully combed out, streamed in the air. With all the agility of a cat, she sprang to the top of the rail and hurried forward to the standing rigging.
I saw that she carried on the side away from the enemy’s view, the little wicker basket filled with the pretty orange-hued bombs!
Was she determined upon self-destruction?
I sprang forward in the hope of stopping her, as I expected to see her blown to atoms. Without looking in my direction, however, she bounded toward the ladder, and quicker than I can say it her little bare feet were climbing the worn and broken rattlings.
Then I understood the meaning of her actions! She was about to ascend to the masthead, whence she evidently intended to hurl the bombs upon the enemy below.
I watched her with bated breath, fearing that she might fall to the deck. I knew how rotten and treacherous was the disused rigging. Clearly, nobody besides myself comprehended her purpose. Twice she nearly fell. Again and again the tarred ropes broke beneath her feet. But she was firm of purpose and rapidly neared the top.
How can I pay tribute to her conduct? How can I cause the reader to feel the boundless emotions of pride that stirred my bosom at such a moment?
I forgave her everything—even the trombone man, even her lack of sympathy and the frivolity of her character.
A moment! Now she was at the masthead! Thecrisis was at hand! The men who formed the hollow square on the deck below had not taken their eyes from the climbing figure. It is doubtful if they had not mistaken the little wicker basket on her arm for a hat.
I enjoyed her triumph. I knew she was mistress of the situation. She held the power of life and death over all of us.
She waved her hand to the men about to die. She gave a jaunty toss of her head in my direction.
Our enemies were charmed as by a magic spell. Fidette softened their hearts—hearts steeled against all human emotions.
She appealed to another and very different passion than the desire for blood.
She stole murder from their hearts, and planted love there instead. Her charms seduced them, even as her beautiful hand was about to slay them.
It was well that it was so; for ’tis better that men die with forgiveness in their hearts.
Only for a moment did Fidette stand gazing down into the upturned faces of these pitiless assassins. I feared that her courage had failed her; but I was mistaken.
Still clinging to the standing rigging with her left hand, she took with her right hand from the little wicker basket four of the pretty yellow bombs, and, true to the mark, sent them hurtling toward the deck.
They landed simultaneously and quite near together in the centre of the human square.
The concussion that instantly followed shook every timber of the ship. It could not be described as an explosion, but as a white flash. Very little flame was seen, but the deck was cleared as if by magic. Pieces of wood and parts of human bodies were sent screaming through the air. The very oakum between the deck planks was converted into impalpable dust. The bulwarks were torn away on the starboard side, and all the invaders whostood there were brushed into the sea as with a broom.
On the port side, owing to the fact that the force of the explosion had been spent in the opposite direction, a few men escaped. Many of these were wounded, and several were suffering from shock.
Fidette had recaptured the ship!