We rowed on, the schooner every now and then taking the ground, but she was always quickly warped off again by a kedge; at length, after we had in all proceeded, it might be, about a mile from the beach, we came to a boom of strong timber clamped with iron, stretching across the creek. We were not unprepared for this; one of two old 32-pound carronades, which, in anticipation of some obstruction of the sort, had been got on deck from amongst the Gleam’s ballast, and properly slung, was now made fast to the middle timber of the boom, and let go, when the weight of it sank it to the bottom, and we passed on. We pulled on for about half a mile farther, when we noticed, high up on a sunny cliff that shot boldly out into the clear blue heavens, a small red flag suddenly run up to the top of a tall, scathed, branchless palm-tree, where it flared for a moment in the breeze like the flame of a torch, and then as suddenly disappeared. “Come, they are on the look-out for us, I see.”
The hills continued to close on us as we advanced, and that so precipitously that we might have been crushed to pieces had half-a-dozen active fellows, without any risk to themselves—for the trees would have screened them— simply loosened some of the fragments of rock that impended over us so threateningly; it seemed as if a little finger could have sent them bounding and thundering down the mountain-side; but this either was not the game of the people we were in search of, or Obed’s spirit and energy had been crushed out of him by the heart-depressing belief that his hours were numbered, for no active obstruction was offered.
We now suddenly rounded an abrupt corner of the creek, and there we were, full in front of the schooners, who, with the felucca in advance, were lying in line of battle, with springs on their cables. The horrible black pennant was, in the present instance, nowhere to be seen; indeed, why such an impolitic step as ever to have shown it at all was taken in the first attack I never could understand; for the force was too small to have created any serious fear of being captured (unless indeed it had been taken for an advanced-guard, supported by a stronger), while it must have appeared probable to Obediah that the loss of the two boats would, in all likelihood, lead to a more powerful attempt, when, if it were successful, the damning fact of having fought under such an infernal emblem must have insured a pirate’s death on the gibbet to every soul who was taken, unless he had intended to have murdered all the witnesses of it. But since proof in my person and the pilot’s existed, now, if ever, was the time for mortal resistance, and to have hoisted it, for they knew that they all fought with halters about their necks. They had all the Spanish flag, flying except the Wave, which showed American colours, and the felucca, which had a white flag hoisted, from which last, whenever our gig appeared, a canoe shoved off, and pulled towards us. The officer, if such he might be called, also carried a white flag in his hand. He was a daring-looking fellow, and dashed up alongside of me. The incomprehensible folly of trying, at this time of day, to cloak the real character of the vessels, puzzled me, and does so to this hour. I have never got a clue to it, unless it was that Obed’s strong mind had given way before his superstitious fears, and others had now assumed the right of both judging and acting for him in this his closing scene. The pirate officer at once recognised me, but seemed neither surprised nor disconcerted at the strength of the force which accompanied me. He asked me, in Spanish, if I commanded it. I told him I did not, that the captain of the schooner was the senior officer.
“Then, will you be good enough to go on board with me, to interpret for me?”
“Certainly.”
In half a minute we were both on the Gleam’s deck, the crews of the boats that had her in tow lying on their oars.
“You are the commander of this force?” said the Spaniard.
“I am,” said old Gasket, who had figged himself out in full puff, after the manner of the ancients, as if he had been going to church, instead of to fight; “and who the hell are you?”
“I command one of these Spanish schooners, sir, which your boats so unwarrantably attacked a week ago, although you are at peace with Spain. But even had they been enemies, they were in a friendly port, which should have protected them.”
“All very good oysters,” quoth old Dick; “and pray was it an honest trick of you to cabbage my young friend, Lieutenant Cringle there, as if you had been slavers kidnapping the Bungoes in the Bight of Biafra, and then to fire on and murder my people when sent in to claim him?”
“As to carrying off that young gentleman, it was no affair of ours; he was brought away by the master of that American schooner; but so far as regards firing on your boats, I believe they fired first. But the crews are not murdered; on the contrary, they have been well used, and are now on board that felucca. I am come to surrender the whole fifteen to you.”
“The whole fifteen! and what have you made of the other twelve?”
“Gastados,” said the fellow, with all the sang froid in the world,—”gastados [spent or expended] by their own folly.”
“Oh, they are expended, are they? then give us the fifteen.”
“Certainly, but you will in this case withdraw your force, of course?”
“We shall see about that—go and send us the men.”
He jumped down into the canoe, and shoved off. Whenever he reached the felucca he struck the white flag, and hoisted the Spanish in its stead, and by hauling on a spring, he brought her to cover the largest schooner so effectually that we could not fire a shot at her without going through the felucca. We could see all the men leave this latter vessel in two canoes, and go on board one of the other craft. There was now no time to be lost, so I dashed at the felucca in the gig, and broke open the hatches, where we found the captured seamen and their gallant leader, Lieutenant * * *, in a sorry plight, expecting nothing but to be blown up, or instant death by shot or the knife. We released them, and, sending to the Gleam for ammunition and small-arms, led the way in the felucca, by Mr Gasket’s orders, to the attack, the corvette’s launch supporting us; while the schooner, with the other craft, were scraping up as fast as they could. We made straight for the largest schooner, which, with her consorts, now opened a heavy fire of grape and musketry, which we returned with interest. I can tell little of what took place till I found myself on the pirate’s quarterdeck after a desperate tussle, and having driven the crew overboard, with dead and wounded men thickly strewn about, and our fellows busy firing at their surviving antagonists as they were trying to gain the shore by swimming.
Although the schooner we carried was the Commodore, and commanded by Obediah in person, yet the pirates—that is, the Spanish part of them—by no means showed the fight I expected. While we were approaching no fire could be hotter, and their yells and cheers were tremendous; but the instant we laid her alongside with the felucca, and swept her decks with a discharge of grape from the carronade, under cover of which we boarded on the quarter, while the launch’s people scrambled up at the bows, their hearts failed, a regular panic overtook them, and they jumped overboard, without waiting for a taste either of cutlass or boarding-pike. The captain himself, however, with about ten Americans, stood at bay round the long gun, which, notwithstanding their great inferiority in point of numbers to our party, they manfully fired three several times at us, after we had carried her aft; but we were so close that the grape came past us like a round shot, and only killed one hand at each discharge; whereas, at thirty yards farther off, by having had room to spread, it might have made a pretty tableau of the whole party. I hailed Obed twice to surrender, while our people, staggered by the extreme hardihood of the small group, hung back for an instant; but he either did not hear me, or would not, for the only reply he seemed inclined to make was by slewing round the gun so as to bring me on with it, and the next moment a general rush was made, when the whole party was cut down, with three exceptions, one of whom was Obed himself, who, getting on the gun, made a desperate bound over the men’s heads, and jumped overboard. He struck out gallantly, the shot pattering round him like the first of a thunder shower, but he dived, a
pparently unhurt, and I lost sight of him.
The other vessels having also been carried, the firing was all on our side by this time, and I, along with the other officers, was exerting myself to stop the butchery.
“Cease firing men; for shame, you see they no longer resist.” And my voice was obeyed by all except the fifteen we had released, who were absolutely mad with fury—perfect fiends; such uncontrollable fierceness I had never witnessed—indeed, I had nearly cut one of them down before I could make them knock off firing.
“Don’t fire, sir,” cried I to one.
“Ay, ay, sir; but that scoundrel made me wash his shirts,” and he let drive at a poor devil, who was squattering and swimming away towards the shore, and shot him through the head.
“By heavens! I will run you through if you fire at that man!” shouted I to another—a marine—who was taking aim at no less a personage than friend Obed, who had risen to breathe, and was swimming after the others, but the very last man of all.
“No, by G——! he made me wash his trousers, sir.”
He fired; the pirate stretched out his arms turned slowly on his back, with his face towards me. I thought he gave me a sort of “Et tu, Brute” look, but I daresay it was fancy—his feet began to sink, and he gradually disappeared—a few bubbles of froth and blood marking the spot where he went down. He had been shot dead. I will not attempt to describe my feelings at this moment— they burned themselves in on my heart at the time, and the impression is indelible. Whether I had or had not acted, in one sense, unjustly, by thrusting myself so conspicuously forward in the attempt to capture him after what had passed between us, forced itself upon my judgment. I had certainly promised that I would, in no way that I could help, be instrumental in his destruction or seizure, provided he landed me at St Jago, or put me on board a friendly vessel. He did neither, so his part of the compact might be considered broken; but then it was out of his power to have fulfilled it; besides, he not only threatened my life subsequently, but actually wounded me; still, however, on great provocation. But what “is writ, is writ.” He has gone to his account, pirate as he was, murderer if you will; yet I had, and still have, a tear for his memory, and many a time have I prayed on my bare knees that his blue agonised dying look might be erased from my brain—but this can never be. What he had been I never learned; but it is my deliberate opinion that, with a clear stage and opportunity, he would have forced himself out from the surface of society for good or for evil. The unfortunates who survived him, but to expiate their crimes on the gibbet at Port Royal, said he had joined them from a New York privateer, but they knew nothing further of him beyond the fact that, by his skill and desperate courage, within a month he had, by common acclaim, been elected captain of the whole band. There was a story current on board the corvette, of a small trading craft, with a person answering his description, having been captured in the Chesapeake by one of the squadron, and sent to Halifax for adjudication (the master, as in most cases of the kind, being left on board), which from that hour had never been heard of, neither vessel, nor prize crew, nor captain, until two Americans were taken out of a slaver, off the Cape de Verds, by the Firebrand, about a year afterwards, after a most brave and determined attempt to escape, both of whom were, however, allowed to enter, but subsequently deserted off Sandy Hook by swimming ashore, in consequence of a pressed hand hinting that one of them, surmised to be Obed, had been the master of the vessel above mentioned.
All resistance having ceased, the few of the pirates who escaped having scampered into the woods, where it would have been vain to follow them, we secured our prisoners, and at the close of a bloody day—for fatal had it been to friend and foe—the prizes were got under weigh, and before nightfall we were all at sea, sailing in a fleet, under convoy of the corvette and Gleam.
* Fum—Flog
CHAPTER X
VOMITO PRIETO.
“This disease is beyond my practice.”
—The Doctor in Macbeth.
THE SECOND- and acting-third-lieutenants were on board the prizes—the purser was busy in his vocation—the doctor ditto. Indeed, he and his mates had more on their hands than they could well manage. The first-lieutenant was engaged on deck, and the master was in his cot, suffering from a severe contusion; so when I got on board the corvette, and dived into the gunroom in search of some crumbs of comfort, the deuce a living soul was there to welcome me, except the gunroom steward, who speedily produced some cold meat, and asked me if I would take a glass of swizzle.
The food I had no great fancy to, although I had not tasted a morsel since six o’clock in the morning, and it was now eight in the evening; but the offer of the grog sounded gratefully in mine ear, and I was about tackling to a stout rummer of the same, when a smart dandified shaver, with gay mother-of-pearl buttons on his jacket, as thick set as peas, presented his tallow chops at the door.
“Captain Transom desires me to say that he will be glad of your company in the cabin, Mr Cringle.”
“My compliments—I will wait on him so soon as I have had a snack. We have had no dinner in the gun-room to-day yet, you know, Mafame.”
“Why, it was in the knowledge of that the captain sent me, sir. He has not had any dinner either; but it is now on the table, and he waits for you.”
I was but little in spirits, and, to say sooth, was fitter for my bed than society; but the captain’s advances had been made with so much kindliness, that I got up and made a strong endeavour to rouse myself; and, having made my toilet as well as my slender means admitted, I followed the captain’s steward into the cabin.
I started—why, I could not well tell—as the sentry at the door stood to his arms when I passed in; and, as if I had been actually possessed by some wandering spirit, who had taken the small liberty of using my faculties and tongue without my concurrence, I hastily asked the man if he was an American? He stared in great astonishment for a short space, turned his quid, and then rapped out—as angrily as respect for a commissioned officer would let him—”No, by ———, sir!”
This startled me as much as the question I had almost unconsciously—and, I may say, involuntarily—put to the marine had surprised him, and I made a full stop, and leant back against the door-post. The captain, who was walking up and down the cabin, had heard me speak, but without comprehending the nature of my question, and now recalled me in some measure to myself by inquiring if I wanted anything. I replied, hurriedly, that I did not.
“Well, Mr Cringle, dinner is ready—so take that chair at the foot of the table, will you?”
I sat down, mechanically, as it appeared to me—for a strange swimming dizzy sort of sensation had suddenly overtaken me, accompanied by a whoreson tingling, as Shakespeare hath it, in my ears. I was unable to eat a morsel, but I could have drunk the ocean, had it been claret or vin-de-grave—to both of which I helped myself as largely as good manners would allow, or a little beyond, mayhap. All this while the captain was stowing his cargo with great zeal, and tifting away at the fluids as became an honest sailor, after so long a fast, interlarding his operations with a civil word to me now and then, without any especial regard as to the answer I made him, or, indeed, caring greatly whether I answered him or not.
“Sharp work you must have had, Mr Cringle; should have liked to have been with you myself. Help yourself before passing that bottle—zounds, man, never take a bottle by the bilge—grasp the neck, man, at least in this fervent climate—thank you. Pity you had not caught the captain, though. What you told me of that man very much interested me, coupled with the prevailing reports regarding him in the ship—daring dog he must have been—can’t forget how gallantly he weathered us when we chased him.”
I broke silence for the first time. Indeed, I could scarcely have done so sooner, even had I chosen it, for the gallant officer was rather continuous in his yarn-spinning. However, he had nearly dined, and was leaning back, allowing the champagne to trickle leisurely from a glass half a yard long, which he had applied to h
is lips, when I said—
“Well, the imagination does sometimes play one strange tricks; I verily believe in second sight now, captain, for at this very instant I am regularly the fool of my senses—but, pray, don’t laugh at me;” and I lay back on my chair, and pressed my hands over my shut eyes and hot burning temples, which were now throbbing as if the arteries would have burst.
The captain, who was evidently much surprised at my abruptness, said something hurriedly and rather sharply in answer, but I could not for the life of me mark what it was. I opened my eyes again, and looked towards the object that had before riveted my attention. It was neither more nor less than the captain’s cloak—a plain, unpretending, substantial blue garment, lined with white, which, on coming below, he had cast carelessly down on the locker that ran across the after-part of the cabin behind him. It was about eighteen feet from me, and as there was no light nearer it than the swinging lamp over the table at which we were seated, the whole of the cabin thereabouts was thrown considerably into shade. The cape of the cloak was turned over, showing the white lining, and was rather bundled, as it were, into a round heap, about the size of a man’s head. When first I looked at it, there was a dreamy, glimmering indistinctness about it that I could not well understand, and I would have said, had it been possible, that the wrinkles and folds in it were beginning to be instinct with motion, to creep and crawl, as it were; at all events, the false impression was so strong as to jar my nerves, and make me shudder with horror. I knew there was no such thing, as well as Macbeth, but nevertheless it was with an indescribable feeling of curiosity, dashed with awe, that I stared intently at it, as if fascinated, while almost unwittingly I made the remark already mentioned.