CHAPTER VII

  Bright summer weather hovered over the Atlantic as the _Revenge_ploughed smartly southward. Jeremy grew more accustomed to his newmanner of life from day to day and as he found his sea-legs he began totake a great pleasure in the free, salt wind that sang in the rigging,the blue sparkle of the swells, and the circling whiteness of theoffshore gulls. He was left much to himself, for the Captain demandedhis services only at meal times and to set his cabin in order in themorning. In the long intervals the boy sat, inconspicuous in a corner ofthe fore-deck, watching the gayly dressed ruffians of the crew, as theythrew dice or quarrelled noisily over their winnings. He was assigned tono watch, but usually went below at the same time as Job Howland, thuskeeping out of the way of Daggs, the man with the broken nose. AsHowland was in the port watch, on deck from sunset to midnight, Jeremyoften took comfort in the sight of his loved stars wheeling westwardthrough the taut shrouds. He would stand there with a lump in his throatas he thought of his father's anguish on returning to the island tofind the sheep uncared for and the young shepherd vanished. In a regiondesolate as that, he knew that there was but one conclusion for them toreach. Still, they might find the ashes of the pirate fire and keep up ahope that he yet lived.

  But the boy could not be unhappy for long. He would find his way homesoon, and he fairly shivered with delight as he planned the grandreunion that would take place when he should return. Perhaps he evenimagined himself marching up to the door in sailor's blue cloth with aseaman's cloak and cocked hat, pistol and cutlass in his belt and ahundred gold guineas in his poke. Not for worlds would he have turnedpirate, but the romance of the sea had touched him and he could not helpa flight of fancy now and then.

  Sometimes in the long hours of the watch, Job would give him lessons inseamanship--teach him the names of ropes and spars and show how each wasused. The boy's greatest delight was to steer the ship when Job took histrick at the helm. This was no small task for a boy even as strong asJeremy. The sloop, like all of her day, had no wheel but was fitted witha massive hand tiller, a great curved beam of wood that kicked amazinglywhen it was free of its lashings. Of course, no grown man could haveheld it in a seaway, but during the calm summer nights Jeremy learnedto humor the craft along, her mainsail just drawing in the gentle landbreeze, and her head held steadily south, a point west.

  One night--it was perhaps a week after Jeremy's capture, and they hadbeen sighting low bits of land on both bows all day--Dave Herriot cameon deck about the middle of the watch and told Curley, the Jamaicansecond mate, he might go below. He set Job to take soundings and,himself taking the tiller, swung her over to port with the wind abeam.Jeremy went to the bows where he could see the white line of shoreahead. They drew in, steering by Job's soundings, and by the time thewatch changed were ready to cast anchor in a small sandy bay. Herriotcame forward, scowling darkly under his bushy eyebrows, and rumbling anoccasional oath to himself. The sloop, her anchor down and sails furled,swung idly on the tide. The men were clearly mystified as thesailing-master started to give orders. "George Dunkin," he said, "taketen men of the starboard watch, and go ashore to forage. There be farmsnear here and any pigs or fowls you may come across will be welcome.You, Bill Livers," addressing the ship's painter, "take a lantern andyour paint-pot and come aft with me. All the rest stay on deck and keepa double lookout, alow an' aloft!" The forage party slipped quietly offtoward the beach in one of the boats. The remainder of the crew lookedblankly after the retreating Bill Livers.

  "Hm," murmured Job, "has Stede Bonnet gone _clean_ crazy?"--and asHerriot let the painter down over the bulwark at the stern--"Ay, he'sgoin' to change her name, by the great Bull Whale!"

  An hour before dawn the crew of the long-boat returned, grumbling andempty-handed. Herriot appeared preoccupied with some weightier matterand scarcely deigned to notice their failure by swearing. There was nosinging as the anchor was raised. A sort of gloom hung over the wholeship. As she stole out to sea again, the men, one by one, went aft andleaned outboard, peering down at the broad, squat stern. Jeremy didlikewise and beheld in new white letters on the black of the hull, thewords _Royal James._ Next day in the fo'c's'le council he learned whythe renaming of the _Revenge_ had cast a pall of apprehension over thecrew. There were low-muttered tales of disaster--of storm, shipwreck,and fire, and that dread of all sailors--the unknown fate of ships thatnever come back to port. Apparently the rule was unfailing. Sooner orlater the ship that had been given a new name would come to grief andher crew with her. Pharaoh Daggs cast an eye of hatred at Jeremy andgrowled that "one Jonah was enough to have abroad, without cleandrownin' all the luck this way," while the crew looked black and shifteduneasily in their places.

  The bay where they had anchored overnight must have been somewhere onthe eastern end of Long Island, a favorite landing place for pirates atthat time. All day they cruised along the hilly southern shore. The menseemed unable to cast off the gloom that had settled upon them. StedeBonnet sat in his cabin, never once coming on deck, and drinking hard, athing unusual for him. Jeremy, who saw more of him than any of theforemast hands, realized from his gray, set face that the man was undera terrible strain of some sort. He told Job what he had seen and thetall New Englander looked very thoughtful. He took the boy aside."There'll be mutiny in this crew before another night," he whispered."They'll never stand for what he's done. If it comes to handspikes, youand I'd best watch our chance to clear out. Pharaoh Daggs don't love usa mite."

  But the mutiny was destined not to occur. An hour before noon next daythe lookout, constantly stationed in the bows, gave a loud "Sail ho!"and as Dave Herriot re-echoed the shout, all hands tumbled on deck witha rush.

 
Stephen W. Meader's Novels