The Black Buccaneer

  CHAPTER XXXII

  Jeremy, stumbling on deck at eight bells, pulled his seaman's greatcoatup about his ears, for the breeze came cold. He worked his way forwardalong the high weather rail and took up his lookout station on thestarboard bow.

  Overhead the midnight sky burned bright with stars that seemed toflicker like candle-flames in the wind. A half-grown moon rode down thewest and threw a faint radiance across the heaving seas. It was blowingharder now. The wind boomed loud in the taut stays and the rising wavesbroke smashingly over the bow at times, forcing the foremast hands tocling like monkeys to the rail and rigging.

  Captain Job, with Tom to help him, stood grimly at the thrashing tillerand drove the sloop southwestward at a terrific gait. The sails had beensingle-reefed again during the mate's watch, but with the wind stillfreshening the staunch little craft was carrying an enormous amount ofcanvas. Job Howland was a sailor of the breed that was to reach itsclimax a hundred years later in the captains of the great Yankeeclippers--men who broke sailing records and captured the world's tradebecause they dared to walk their tall ships, full-canvassed, past theheavy foreign merchantmen that rolled under triple reefs in half a galeof wind.

  One by one the hours of the watch went by. Jeremy, drenched andshivering, but thrilling to the excitement of the chase, stuck to hispost at the rail beside the long bow gun. His eyes were fixed constantlyon the sea ahead and abeam, while his thoughts, racing on, followed thepirate schooner close.

  How was Bob to be gotten off alive, he wondered, for he had come tobelieve that his chum was aboard the fleeing craft. If it came to arunning fight, their cannonade might sink her, in which case the boywould be drowned along with his captors. And there were other thingsthat could happen. Jeremy groaned aloud as he thought of the fate thatPharaoh Daggs had once so nearly meted out to him. He felt again thebite of the hemp at his wrists, and saw that pitiless gleam in thestrange light eyes of the pirate. Would Daggs try to settle his longscore against the boys by some unheard-of brutality?

  A sudden hail cut in upon his thoughts. "Sail ho!" the lookout on theother side had cried.

  "Where away?" came Job's deep shout.

  "Three points on the port bow," answered the seaman, "an' not above aleague off!"

  Jeremy, straining his eyes into the night, made out the dim patch ofsail ahead.

  "How's she headed?" called the Captain again. "Is she still on her porttack, or running before the wind?"

  "Still beating up to the west!" the sailor replied.

  "Good," cried Job. "They think they can outsail us. Keep her in sightand sing out if you see her fall off the wind!"

  Half an hour later the watch was changed and Jeremy scrambled into hiswarm bunk for a few hours more sleep.

  It was broad daylight when he and Tom reached the deck once more andwent eagerly forward to join the little knot of seamen in the bows. Alleyes were turned toward the horizon, ahead, where the sails of thefleeing schooner loomed gray in the morning haze.

  The wind which had shifted a little to the north was still blowingstiffly, heeling both sloops over at a sharp angle. The _Tiger_ hadgained somewhat during the morning watch, but the pirates had nowevidently become desperate and put on all the sail their craft wouldcarry, so that the two vessels sped on, league after league, withoutapparent change of position.

  Job, who had now taken the tiller again, called to Jeremy after a while."Here, lad," he said, when the boy reached the poop, "lend me a handwith this kicker."

  Jeremy laid hold with a will, and found that it took almost all hisstrength, along with that of the powerful Captain, to hold the schooneron her course. At times, when a big beam sea caught her, she would yawfearfully, falling off several points, and could only be brought back towindward by jamming the thrashing rudder hard over.

  "We lose headway when she does that, don't we, Job?" panted the boyafter one such effort. "And I reckon we couldn't lash the beam fast tokeep her this way, could we? No, I see, it has to be free so as to moveall the time. Still----"

  As he staggered to and fro at the end of the tiller, the boy thoughtrapidly. Finally he recommenced: "Job--this may sound foolish toyou--but why couldn't we lash her on both sides, and yet give herplay--look--this way! Rig a little pulley here and one here----" Heindicated places on the deck, close to the rail on either quarter. "Thenreeve a line from the tiller-end through each one, and bring it backwith three or four turns around a windlass drum, a little way for'ard,there. Then you could keep hold of the arms of the windlass, and onlylet the tiller move as much as you needed to, either way----"

  "By the Great Bull Whale," Job laughed, as he grasped the boy's plan, "Iwonder if that wouldn't work! Jeremy, boy, we'll find out, anyhow.Braisted!" he called to the ship's carpenter, "up with some lumber and agood stout line and a pair of spare blocks if you've got them. Lively,now!"

  In a jiffy the carpenter had tumbled the tackle out on the deck, andunder the direction of Job, began to rig it according to Jeremy'sscheme. It was a matter of a few moments only, once he caught the idea.When at length the final stout knot had been tied, Job, still keepinghis mighty clutch on the tiller beam, motioned to Jeremy to take hold ofthe windlass. The boy jumped forward eagerly and seized two of the rudespokes that radiated horizontally from the hub. The position was anawkward one, but with a slight pull he found that he could swing thewindlass rapidly in either direction.

  "Avast there--avast!" came Job's bass bellow, and looking over hisshoulder, Jeremy saw the big skipper flung from side to side in spite ofhimself as the windlass was turned. The seamen who had gathered to watchwere roaring with laughter, and Job himself was chuckling as he let gothe tiller and hurried to Jeremy's side. Taking a grip on the spokes, hespun them back and forth once or twice, to feel how the vessel answeredher helm under this new contraption, and in a moment had it workinghandsomely. He was using the first ship's steering-wheel.

  The sloop, which had yawed and lost some headway during this interlude,now struck her stride again, and drove along with her nose held steady,a full half-point closer to the wind than had been possible before. Jobperceived this and loosed one hand long enough to strike Jeremy a mightyblow on the back.

  "She works, boy!" he cried. "And at this gait we'll catch them beforenoon!"

  Indeed, the crew had already noticed the difference in their sailing,and were lining the bows, waving their caps in the air and yelling withexcitement as they watched the distance between the two craft slowlyshorten.

  An hour passed, and the gunners were sent below to make ready theirpieces, for the lead of the pirate sloop had been cut to a bare mile.

  Job had turned the wheel over to Hawkes, and now, with three picked mento help him, was ramming home a heavy charge of powder in the long"nine." On top of it he drove down the round-shot, then bent above theswivel-breach, swinging it back and forth as he brought the cannon'smuzzle to bear on the topsails of the pirate schooner, whose black hullwas now plainly visible. He sniffed the wind and measured the distancewith his eye. When his calculations were complete he turned and held uphis hand in signal to the helmsman. As the swivel allowed movement onlyfrom side to side, he must depend on the cant of the deck for hiselevation. Holding the long gunner's match lighted in his hand, hewaited for the exact second when the schooner's bow was lifted on a waveand swinging in the right direction, then touched the powder train.There was a hiss and flare, and at the end of a second or two a terrificroar as the charge was fired. The smoke was blown clear almostinstantly, and every one leaned forward, watching the sea ahead withtense eagerness. At length a column of white spray lifted, a scanthundred yards astern of the other sloop. The crew cheered, for it was asplendid shot at that distance and in a seaway. The sky was thickeningto windward, and it grew harder momentarily to see objects at adistance. Job was already at work, superintending the swabbing-out ofthe gun and reloading with his own hands. There was a long moment whilehe waited for a favorable chance, then "Long Poll" shook the deck oncemore with the crash of her dis
charge. This time the shot fell just aheadand to windward of the enemy--so close that the spray blew back into therigging.

  Job had bracketed his target, but the mist-clouds that were sweepingpast rendered his task a difficult one. Grimly but with swift certaintyof movement he went about his preparations for a third attempt.

  Suddenly there was a shout from Jeremy, who had climbed into theforestays for a better view. "Look there!" he cried. "They're lowering aboat. There's something white in it, like a flag of truce!"

  In the lee of the pirate vessel a small boat could be seen tossingcrazily in the heavy seas. Job, who had called for his spyglass, lookedlong and earnestly at the tiny craft.

  "There's but one man in it," he announced at length, "and he's showing abit of something white, as Jeremy says. Here, lad, you've the best eyeson the sloop, see if you can make out more."

  The boy focussed the glass on the little boat, which was now driftingrapidly to the southeast, already nearly opposite their bows. The figurein it stood up, waving frantic arms to one side and the other.

  "It's Bob!" Jeremy almost screamed. "That's a signal we used to havewhen we were hunting. It means 'Come here!'"

  He had hardly finished speaking when--"Port your helm!" roared Job. "Allhands stand by to slack the fore and main sheets!"

  Job had bracketed his target.]

  The _Tiger_ fell off the wind with a lurch and spun away to leeward,bowing into the running seas.

  Five minutes later they hauled Bob, drenched and dripping, to the deck.