CHAPTER IX
As she cleared the side of the waterlogged merchantman, the _RoyalJames_ began to move. Her sails which had been left flapping during theclose fighting, now filled with a bang and she went away smartly on thestarboard tack. Job had dragged Jeremy aft and the two were huddled atthe tiller, partially screened by the mainsail, when a howl ofconsternation broke out aboard the brig. Few if any of the firearms werestill loaded, or they might have been shot to death, out of hand. As itwas, the sloop had drawn away to a distance of nearly a quarter of amile before any effort was made to stop her.
Then a single cannon roared and a round shot whizzed by along the topsof the waves. When the next report came, Jeremy could see the splashfall far astern. They were out of range.
The two runaways now felt comparatively safe. It was certain that thebrig was too badly damaged to give chase even if she could keep afloat.Jeremy felt a momentary pang at the thought of leaving even thatgraceless crowd in such jeopardy, but he remembered that they had thebrig's boats in which to leave the hulk, and his own present dangersoon gave him enough to occupy him.
Job lashed the tiller and going to the lanyard at the mainmast, hauleddown the black flag. Then they both set to work cleaning up the deck.The three dead men were given sea burial--slipped overboard withoutother ceremony than the short prayer for each which Jeremy repeated. Thegunner who lay in agony in his berth had his wound bound up and wasgiven a sip of brandy. Then the lank New Englander went below to get ameal, while Jeremy sluiced the gun decks with sea water.
Night was falling when Job reappeared on deck with biscuit and beans andsome preserves out of the Captain's locker. There was little appetite inJeremy after what he had witnessed that day, but his tall friend ate hissupper with a relish and seemed quite elated at the prospect of thevoyage to shore. He filled a clay pipe after the meal and smokedmeditatively awhile, then addressed the boy with a queer hesitancy.
"Sonny," he began, "since we picked you up, I've been thinkin' everyday, more an' more, what I'd give to be back at your age with anotherchance. Piratin' seemed a fine upstandin' trade to me when Ibegun,--independent an' adventurous too, it seemed. But it's not sofine--not so fine!" He paused. "One or two or maybe five years o' roughlivin' an' rougher fightin', a powerful waste o' money in drink an'such, an' in the end--a dog's death by shootin' or starvation, or thechains on Execution Dock." Another pause followed and then, turningsuddenly to Jeremy--"Lad, I can get a Governor's pardon ashore, but'twould mean nought to me if my old days came back to trouble me. You'reyoung an' you're honest an' what's more you believe in God. Do youfigger a man can square himself after livin' like I've lived?" The boylooked into the pirate's homely, anxious face. He felt that he wouldalways trust Job Howland. "Ay," he answered straightforwardly, and putout his hand. The man gripped it with a sort of fierce eagerness thatwas good to see and smiled the smile of a man at peace with himself.Then he solemnly drew out his clasp-knife and pricked a small cross inthe skin of his forearm. "That," said he, "is for a sign that once I getout o' this here pickle I'll never pirate nor free-trade no more."
The wind sank to a mere breath as the darkness gathered and Jeremy stoodthe first watch while his tired friend settled into a deep sleep thatlasted till he was wakened a little after midnight. Then the boy tookhis turn at sleeping.
When the morning light shone into his eyes he woke to find Job pacingthe deck and casting troubled looks at the sky. The wind was dead andonly an occasional whiff of light air moved the idly swinging canvas. Atiny swell rocked the sloop as gently as a cradle.
"Well, my boy, we won't get far toward shore at this gait," said Jobcheerfully as Jeremy came up. "Except for maybe three hours sailin' lastnight, we've made no progress at all. I've got some porridge cookedbelow. You bring it on deck an' we'll have a snack."
The meal finished, they turned to the rather trying task of waiting fora breeze. About noon Job climbed to the masthead for a reconnaissanceand on coming down reported a sail to the east, but no sign of any wind.The sky was dull and overcast so that Job made no effort to determinetheir bearings. They figured that they had drifted a dozen or moresea-miles to the west since the battle, and were lying somewhere off thelittle port of New York.
The day passed, Job amusing Jeremy with tales of his adventures and oldsea-yarns and soon night had overtaken them again. This time the boy hadthe first nap. He was roused to take his watch when Job saw by the starsthat it was eight bells, and, still yawning with sleep, the lad went tostand by the rail. Everything was quiet on the sea, and even the swellhad died out, leaving a perfect calm. There was no moon. The boy's headsank on his breast and softly he slid to the deck. Drowsiness hadovercome him so gently that he slept before he knew he was sleepy.