CHAPTER VIII
As the pirate sloop raced southward under full sail, the form of theother ship became steadily plainer. She was a brig, high-pooped, andtall-masted, and apparently deeply laden. Major Bonnet, who had come upat the first warning, seemed his old cool self as he conned the enemythrough a spyglass. Jeremy had been detailed as a sort of errand boy,and as he stood at the Captain's side he heard him speaking to Herriot.
"She's British, right enough," he was saying. "I can make out her flag;but how many guns, 'tis harder to tell. She sees us now, I think, forthey seem to be shaking out a topsail.... Ah, now I can see the sunshine on her broadside--two ... three ... five in the lower port tier,and three more above--sixteen in all. 'Twill be a fight, it seems!"
Aboard the _Royal James_ the men were slaving like ants, preparing forthe battle. Every man knew his duties. The gunners and swabbers wereputting their cannon in fettle below decks. Others were rolling outround-shot from the hold and storing powder in iron-cased lockers behindthe guns. Great tubs of sea water were placed conveniently in the'tween-decks and blankets were put to soak for use in case of fire.Buckets of vinegar water for swabbing the guns were laid handy. In thegalley the cook made hot grog. Cutlasses were looked after, pistolscleaned and loaded and muskets set out for close firing. Jeremy was senthither and thither on every imaginable mission, a tremendous excitementrunning in his veins.
The sloop gained rapidly on her prey, hauling over to windward as shesailed, and when the two ships were almost within cannon range, StedeBonnet with his own hand bent the "Jolly Roger" to the lanyard and sentthe great black flag with its skull and crossbones to fly from themasthead. The grog was served out. No man would have believed that theroaring, rollicking gang of cutthroats who tossed off their liquor incheers and ribald laughter was identical with the grumbling, sour-facedcrew of twenty hours before. As they finished, something came skippingover the water astern and the first echoing report followed close. Thecannonade was on.
A loud yell of defiance swept the length of the _Royal James_ as the menwent to their posts. The gun decks ran along both sides of the sloop afew feet above the water line. They were like alleyways beneath the maindeck, barely wide enough to admit the passage of a man or a keg ofpowder behind the gun-carriages. These latter were not fixed to theplanking as afterward became the fashion, but ran on trucks and werekept in their places by rope tackles. In action, the recoil had to betaken up by men who held the ends of these ropes, rove through pulleysin the vessel's side. Despite their efforts the gun would sometimes leapback against the bulkhead hard enough to shatter it. As the charge foreach reloading had to be carried sometimes half the length of the shipby hand, it is easy to see that the men who served the guns needed somestrength and agility in getting past the jumping carriages.
Jeremy was sent below to help the gunners, as the shot from themerchantman continued to scream by. Job Howland was a gunner on the portside and the boy naturally lent his services to the one man aboard thathe could call his friend. There was much bustle in the alley behind theclosed ports but surprisingly little confusion was apparent. Thediscipline seemed better than at any time since the boy had been broughtaboard the black sloop.
Job was ramming the wad home on the charge of powder in his bow gun. Theother four guns in the port deck were being loaded at the same time,three men tending each one.
"Here, lad," sang out Job, as he put the single iron shot in at themuzzle, "take one o' the wet blankets out o' yon tub an' stand by tofight sparks." Jeremy did as he was bid, then got out of the way as theports were flung open and the guns run forward, with their evil bronzenoses thrust out into the sunlight.
The sloop, running swiftly with the wind abeam, had now drawn abreast ofher unwieldy adversary. The merchant captain, apparently, findinghimself out-speeded and being unable to spare his gun crews to trimsails, had put the head of his ship into the wind, where she stood, withcanvas flapping, her bows offering a steady mark to the pirate.
"Ready a port broadside!" came Bonnet's ringing order, and then--"Fire!"Job Howland's blazing match went to the touch-hole at the word and hissix-pounder, roaring merrily, jumped back two good feet against thestraining ropes of the tackle. Instantly the next gun spoke and the nextand so on, all five in a space of a bare ten seconds. Had they beenfired simultaneously they might have shaken the ship to pieces. Jeremywas half-deafened, and his whole body was jarred. Thick black smoke hungin the alleyway, for the ports had been closed in order to reload ingreater safety. The boy felt the deck heel to starboard under him andthought at first that a shot had caught them under the waterline, butwhen he was sent above to find out whether the broadside had takeneffect, he found that the sloop had come about and was already drivingnorth still to windward of the enemy. Bonnet was giving his gunners moretime to load by running back and forth and using his batteriesalternately. Herriot had the tiller and in response to Jeremy's questionhe pointed to the fluttering rags of the brig's foresail and the smokethat issued from a splintered hole under her bow chains.
Below in the gun deck the buccaneers, sweating by their pieces, heardthe news with cheers. The sloop shook to the jarring report of thestarboard battery a moment later, and hardly had it ceased when she cameabout on the other tack. "Hurrah," cried Job's mates, "we'll show himthis time! Wind an' water--wind an' water!"
The open traps showed the green seas swirling past close below, and offacross the swells the tall side of the merchantman swaying in the troughof the waves. "Ready!" came the order and every gunner jumped to thebreach, match in hand. Before the command came to fire there was a crashof splintering wood and a long, intermittent roar came over the water.The brig had taken advantage of her falling off the wind to deliver abroadside in her own turn. Stede Bonnet's voice, cool as ever, gave theorder and four guns answered the brig's discharge. The crew of themiddle cannon lay on the deck in a pitiable state, two killed outrightand the gunner bleeding from a great splinter wound in the head. A shothad entered to one side of the port, tearing the planking to bits andafter striking down the two gun-servers, had passed into the fo'c's'le.Jeremy jumped forward with his blanket in time to stamp out a blazewhere the firing-match had been dropped, and with the help of one of thepirates dragged the wounded man to his berth. Almost every shot of thelast volley had done damage aboard the brig. Her freeboard, twice ashigh as that of the sloop, had offered a target which for expert gunnerswas hard to miss. Jagged openings showed all along her side, and as sherose on a swell, Job shouted, "See there! She's leakin' now. 'Twas mylast shot did that--right on her waterline!"
"All hands on deck to board her!" came a shout, almost at the sameinstant. Jeremy hurrying up with the rest found the sloop bearing downstraight before the wind, and only a dozen boat's lengths from theenemy.
A wild whoop went up among the pirates. Every man had seized on a musketand was crouching behind the rail. Bonnet alone stood on the open deck,his buff coat blowing open and his hand resting lightly on his sword. Anoccasional cannon shot screamed overhead or splashed away astern.Apparently the brig's batteries were too greatly damaged and her crewtoo badly shot up to offer an effective bombardment. She was driftinghelplessly under tattered ribbons of canvas and the _Royal James_, whosesails had suffered far less, bore down upon her opponent with the swoopof a hawk.
As she drew close aboard a scattered fusillade of small arms broke outfrom the brig's poop, wounding one man, a Portuguese, but for the mostpart striking harmlessly against the bulwark. The buccaneers held theirfire till they were scarce a boat's length distant. Then at the orderthey swept the ship with a withering musket volley. The brig was down bythe head and lay almost bow on so that her deck was exposed to Bonnet'smarksmen. Herriot brought his sloop about like a flash and almost beforeJeremy realized what was toward, the ships had bumped together side byside, and the howling mob of pirates was swarming over the enemy's rail.Job Howland and another man took great boat-hooks, with which theygrappled the brig's ports and kept the two vessels from drifting apar
t.Jeremy was alone upon the sloop's deck. He put the thickness of the mastbetween him and the hail of bullets and peered fearfully out at theterrible scene above.
Dave Herriot]
The crew of the brig had been too much disorganized to repel theboarders as well as they might, and the entire horde of wild barbarianshad scrambled to her deck, where a perfect inferno now held sway. Theair seemed full of flying cutlasses that produced an incessant hiss andclangor. Pistols banged deafeningly at close quarters and there was theconstant undertone of groans, cries and bellowed oaths. Above the dincame the terrible, clear voice of Stede Bonnet, urging on his seadogs.He had become a different man from the moment his foot touched themerchantman's deck. From the cool commander he had changed to a devilincarnate, with face distorted, eyes aflame, and a sword that hacked andstabbed with the swift ferocity of lightning. Jeremy saw him, fightingsingle-handed with three men. His long sword played in and out, to theright and to the left with a turn and a flash, then, whirling swiftly,pinned a man who had run up behind. Bonnet's feet moved quickly,shifting ground as stealthily as a cat's and in a second he had leapedto a safer position with his back to the after-house. Two of hisopponents were down, and the third fighting wearily and withoutconfidence, when a huge, flaxen-haired man burst from the hatch to thedeck and swung his broad cutlass to such effect that the battling groupsin his path gave way to either side. The burly form of Dave Herriotopposed the new enemy and as the two giants squared off, sword ringingon sword, more than one wounded sailor raised himself to a betterposition, grinning with the Anglo-Saxon's unquenchable love of a fairfight. Herriot was no mean swordsman of the rough and ready seaman'stype and had a great physique as well, but his previous labors--he hadbeen the first man on board and had already accounted for a fair shareof the defenders--had rendered him slow and arm-weary. The readyparrying, blade to blade, ceased suddenly as his foot slipped backwardin a pool of blood. The blond seaman seized his advantage and swung aslicing blow that glanced off Herriot's forehead, and felled the hugebuccaneer to the deck where he lay stunned, the quick red staining hishead-cloth. As the blond-haired man stepped forward to finish thebusiness, a long, keen, straight blade interposed, caught his cutlass inan upward parry and at the same time pinked him painfully in the arm.
Jumping back the seaman found himself faced by the pitiless eyes ofStede Bonnet, who had killed his last opponent and run in to save hismate's life. That quick, darting sword baffled the sailor. Swing andhack as he might, his blows were caught in midair and fell awayharmless, while always the relentless point drove him back and back.Forced to the rail, he stood his ground desperately, pale and glisteningwith the sweat of a man in the fear of death. Then his sword flew up,the pirate captain stabbed him through the throat and with a dying gaspthe limp body fell backward into the sea.
Meanwhile the pirates had steadily gained ground in the hand to handstruggle and now a bare half-dozen brave fellows held on, fightingsingly or in pairs, back to back. The brig's captain, wounded in severalplaces and seeing his crew in a fair way to be annihilated, flung up atired arm and cried for quarter. Almost at once the fighting ceased andhalf the combatants, utterly exhausted, sank down among their dead andwounded fellows. The deck was a long shambles, red from the bits to thepoop.
While the hands of the prisoners were being bound, Bonnet and all of hismen not otherwise employed hurried below to search for loot. The man whohad held the boat-hook astern left this task and greedily clambered upthe brig's side lest he should miss his chance at the booty. Job alonestuck to his post, and motioned Jeremy to stay where he was. Cheers andyells of joy rang from the after-hold of the merchantman where thepirates had evidently discovered the ship's store of wine.
After a few moments Pharaoh Daggs thrust his scarred face out of thecompanion, and with a fierce roar of laughter waved a black bottle abovehis head. The others followed, drinking and babbling curses, and last ofall Stede Bonnet, pale, dishevelled, mad with blood and liquor, stoodbareheaded by the hatch. He raised his hand in a gesture of silence andall the hubbub ceased. "We have beaten them!" he cried between twitchinglips. "I Captain Thomas, the chiefest of all the pirates, and mybully-boys of the _Royal James_! We'll show 'em all! We'll show 'em all!Blackbeard and all the rest! He, he, he!" and his voice trailed off incrazy laughter. The men of the crew stood about him on the brig's deckdumbfounded by his words. Jeremy could hardly breathe in his surprise.Suddenly he gave a start and would have cried out but that Job Howland'shand closed his mouth. A swiftly widening lane of water separated thesloop from her late enemy.