The Black Buccaneer

  CHAPTER III

  It was growing dark already in the dense fir growth that covered thehillside, and when Jeremy suddenly stepped upon the moss at the brink ofa deep spring, he had to catch a branch to keep from falling in. Therewas an opening in the trees above and enough light came through for himto see the white sand bubbling at the bottom.

  At one edge the water lapped softly over the moss and trickled down thenorthern slope of the hill in a little rivulet, which had in the courseof time shaped itself a deep, well-defined bed a yard or two across.Following this, the boy soon came out upon the grassy slope beside thesheep-pen. He looked in at the placid flock, brought a bucket of waterfrom the little stream, and, not caring to light a lantern, ate hissupper of bread and cheese outside the hut on the slope facing the bay.The night settled chill but without fog. The boy wrapped his heavyhomespun cloak round him, snuggled close to Jock's hairy side, and inhis lonesomeness fell back on counting the stars as they came out. Firstthe great yellow planet in the west, then, high overhead, the sparklingwhite of what, had he known it, was Vega; and in a moment a dozenothers were in view before he could number them--Regulus, Altair, Spica,and, low in the south, the angry fire of Antares.

  For him they were unnamed, save for the peculiarities he discovered ineach. In common with most boys he could trace the dipper and find theNorth Star, but he regrouped most of the constellations to suit himself,and was able to see the outline of a wolf or the head of an Indian thatcovered half the sky whenever he chose. He wondered what had become ofOrion, whose brilliant galaxy of stars appeals to every boy's fancy. Ithad vanished since the spring. In it he had always recognized the formof a brig he had seen hove-to in Portsmouth Harbor--high poop,skyward-sticking bowsprit and ominous, even row of gun-ports where shecarried her carronades--three on a side. How those black cannon-mouthshad gaped at the small boy on the dock! He wondered--

  "Boom...!" came a hollow sound that seemed to hang like mist in a longecho over the island. Before Jeremy could jump to his feet he heard therumbling report a second time. He was all alert now, and thoughtrapidly. Those sounds--there came another even as he stood there--mustbe cannon-shots--nothing less. The ships he had seen from the hilltopwere men-of-war, then. Could the French have sent a fleet? He did notknow of any recent fighting. What could it mean?

  Deep night had settled over the island, and the fir-woods looked veryblack and uninviting to Jeremy when he started up the hill once more.

  As their shadow engulfed him, he was tempted to turn back--how he was towish he had done so in the days that followed--but the hardy strain ofadventure in his spirit kept his jaw set and his legs working steadilyforward into the pitch-black undergrowth. Once or twice he stumbled overfallen logs or tripped in the rocks, but he held on upward till thetrees thinned and he felt that the looming shape of the ledge was justin front. His heart seemed to beat almost as loudly as the cannonadewhile he felt his way up the broken stones.

  Panting with excitement, he struggled to the top and threw himselfforward to the southern edge.

  A dull-gray, quiet sea met the dim line of the sky in the south. Halfwaybetween land and horizon, perhaps a league distant, Jeremy saw two vaguesplotches of darkness. Then a sudden flame shot out from the smallerone, on the right. Seconds elapsed before his waiting ear heard thebooming roar of the report. He looked for the bigger ship to answer inkind, but the next flash came from the right as before. This time hesaw a bright sheet of fire go up from the vessel on the left,illuminating her spars and topsails. The sound of the cannon was drownedin an instant by a terrific explosion. Jeremy trembled on his rock. Theships were in darkness for a moment after that first great flare, andthen, before another shot could be fired, little tongues of flame beganto spread along the hull and rigging of the larger craft. Little bylittle the fire gained headway till the whole upper works were a singlegreat torch. By its light the victorious vessel was plainly visible. Shewas a schooner-rigged sloop-of-war, of eighty or ninety tons' burden,tall-masted and with a great sweep of mainsail. Below her deck themuzzles of brass guns gleamed in the black ports. As the blazing shipdrifted helplessly off to the east, the sloop came about, and, toJeremy's amazement, made straight for the southern bay of the island. Helay as if glued to his rock, watching the stranger hold her course upthe inlet and come head to wind within a dozen boat-lengths of theshore.