The Black Buccaneer

  CHAPTER IV

  One of the first things a backwoods boy learns is that it pays to mindyour own business, _after_ you know what the other fellow is going todo. Jeremy had been threshing his brain for a solution to the scene hehad just witnessed. Whether the crew of the strange sloop, just theneffecting a landing in small boats, were friends or enemies it wasimpossible to guess. Jeremy feared for the sheep. Fresh meat would bewelcome to any average ship's crew, and the lad had no doubt that theywould use no scruple in dealing with a youngster of his age. He mustknow who they were and whether they intended crossing the island. Therewas no feeling of mere adventure in his heart now. It was purely senseof duty that drove his trembling legs down the hillside. He shiveredmiserably in the night air and felt for his pistol-butt, which gave himscant comfort.

  The ridge, which has already been described, bore in a southerlydirection from the base of the ledge, and sloped steeply to the head ofthe southern inlet. High above the arm of the bay, where the sloop wasnow moored, and scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore, the ridgeprojected in a rough granite crag like a bent knee. Jeremy had a veryfair plan of all this in his mind, for his trained woodsman's eye hadthat afternoon noted every landmark and photographed it. He followedthis mental map as he stumbled through the trees. It seemed a long time,perhaps twenty or thirty minutes, before he came out, stifling the soundof his gasping breath, and crouched for a minute on the bare stone toget his wind. Then he crawled forward along the rough cliff top, feelinghis way with his hands. Soon he heard a distant shout. A faint glow oflight shone over the edge of the crag. As he drew near, he saw, on thebeach below, a great fire of driftwood and some score or more of mengathered in the circle of light. The distance was too great for him totell much about their faces, but Jeremy was sure that no English orColonial sloop-of-war would be manned by such a motley company. Theirclothes varied from the sea-boots and sailor's jerkin of the averagemariner to slashed leather breeches of antique cut and red cloth skirtsreaching from the girdle to the knees. Some of the group worethree-cornered hats, others seamen's caps of rough wool, and here andthere a face grimaced from beneath a twisted rag rakishly askew.Everywhere about them the fire gleamed on small-arms of one kind oranother. Nearly every man carried a wicked-looking hanger at his sideand most had one or two pistols tucked into waistband or holster.

  This desperate gang was in a constant commotion. Even as Jeremy watched,a half dozen men were rolling a barrel up the beach. Wild howls greetedits appearance and as it was hustled into the circle of bright light,those who had been dancing, quarreling and throwing dice on the otherside of the fire fell over each other to join the mob that surroundedit. The leaping flames threw a weird, uncertain brilliance upon thescene that made Jeremy blink his eyes to be sure that it was real. Withevery moment he had become more certain what manner of men these were.

  His lips moved to shape a single terrible word--"Pirates!"

  The buccaneers were much talked of in those days, and though the NewEngland ports were less troubled, because better guarded, than thosefarther south, there had been many sea-rovers hanged in Boston withinJeremy's memory.

  As if to clinch the argument a dozen of the ruffians swung theircannikins of rum in the air and began to shout a song at the top oftheir lungs. All the words that reached Jeremy were oaths except onephrase at the end of the refrain, repeated so often that he began tomake out the sense of it. "Walk the bloody beggars all below!" it seemedto be--or "overboard"--he could not tell which. Either seemed bad enoughto the boy just then and he turned to crawl homeward, with a sickfeeling at the pit of his stomach.

  His way led straight back across the ridge to the spring and thence downto the shelter on the north shore. He made the best speed he was ablethrough the woods until he reached the height of land near the middle ofthe island. He had crashed along caring only to reach the sheep-pen andhome, but as he stood for a moment to get his breath and his bearings,the westerly breeze brought him a sound of voices on the ridge close by.He prayed fervently that the wind which had warned him had served alsoto carry away the sound of his progress. Cowering against a tree, hestood perfectly still while the voices--there seemed to be two--camenearer and nearer. One was a very deep, rough bass that laughed hoarselybetween speeches. The other voice was of a totally different sort, witha cool, even tone, and a rather precise way of clipping the words.

  "See here, David," Jeremy understood the latter to say, "It's for you toremember those bearings, not me. You're the sailor here. Give them againnow!"

  "Huh!" grunted Big Voice, "two hunder' an' ten north to a sharp rock;three-score an' five northeast by east to an oak tree in a gully; twoan' thirty north to a fir tree blazed on the south; five north _an'_there you are!" He ended in a chuckle as if pleased by the accuracy ofhis figures.

  "Ay, well enough," the other responded, "but it must be wrong, forhere's the blazed tree and no spring by it."

  Close below, Jeremy saw their lantern flash and a moment later the twomen were in full view striding among the trees. As he had almostexpected from their voices, one was a tremendous, bearded fellow insea-boots and jerkin and with a villainous turban over one eye, whilehis companion was a lean, smooth-shaven man, dressed in a fine buffcoat, well-fitting breeches and hose, and shoes with gleaming buckles.

  They must have passed within ten feet of the terrified Jeremy while thetossing lantern, swung from the hairy fist of the man called David,shone all too distinctly upon the boy's huddled shape. When they weregone by he allowed himself a sigh of relief, and shifted his weight fromone foot to the other. A twig broke loudly and both men stopped andlistened. "'Twas nought!" growled David. The other man paid no attentionto him other than to say, "Hold you the lantern here!" and advancedstraight toward Jeremy's tree. The boy froze against it, immovable, butit was of no avail.

  "Aha," said the lean man, quietly, and gripped the lad's arm with hishand. As he dragged him into the light, his companion came up, staringwith astonishment. A moment he was speechless, then began ripping outoath after oath under his breath. "How," he asked at length, "did theblarsted whelp come here?" The smaller man, who had been looking keenlyinto Jeremy's face, suddenly addressed him: "Here you, speak up! Do youlive here?" he cried. "Ay," said the boy, beginning to get a grip on histhoughts.

  "How long has there been a settlement here? There was none last Autumn,"continued the well-dressed man. Jeremy had recovered his wits andreasoned quickly. He had little chance of escape for the present, whilehe must at all costs keep the sheep safe. So he lied manfully, prayingthe while to be forgiven.

  "'Tis a new colony," he mumbled, "a great new colony from Boston town.There be three ships of forty guns each in the north harbor, and they bewatching for pirates in these parts," he finished.

  "Boy!" growled the bearded man, seizing Jeremy's wrist and twisting ithorribly. "Boy! Are you telling the truth?" With face white and set andknees trembling from the pain, the lad nodded and kept his voice steadyas he groaned an "Ay!"

  The two men looked at each other, scowling. The giant broke silence."We'd best haul out now, Cap'n," he said.

  "And so I believe," the other replied, "But the water-casks are empty.Here!" as he turned to Jeremy, "show us the spring." It was not far awayand the boy found it without trouble.

  "Now, Dave Herriot," said the Captain, "stay you here with the light,that we may return hither the easier. Boy, come with me. Make no fuss,either, or 'twill be the worse for you." And so saying he walked quicklyback toward the southern shore, holding the stumbling Jeremy's wrist ina grip of iron.

  Crashing down the hill through the brush, the lad had scant time or willfor observing things about him, but as they crossed a gully he saw, orfancied he saw, on the knee-shaped crag above, the slouched figure of abuccaneer silhouetted against the sky. It was not the bearded giantcalled Herriot, but another, Jeremy was sure. He had no time forconjectures, for they plunged into the thicket and birch limbs whippedhim across the face.