“Did you fellers hear me?” asked Mr. Gull, coming toward Martin and the rest of us.
“Harkee, Mr. Gull,” said the Scot, “d’ye mean we can clear ef the wessel don’t suit? Is that the lay o’ it? She’s a fine ship, Mr. Gull, an’ fer me ye can lay to it. I’d never leave her, unless it’s the wish o’ the matchless officers that commands her.”
“If you drunkards ain’t aboard again by eight bells to-night, it’ll be a sorry crowd that’ll come next day,--an’ ye can lay to that, ye fine Scotchman, an’ with just as much scope as ye may care for.”
Big Jones smiled as he unbent the boat tackle. It was evident our second mate was not as big a fool as he looked, but it seemed strange we should be allowed ashore unless the captain had good reason to believe we could be back aboard again. Only a few minutes before we were planning some desperate means of reaching the beach, and now the 93invitation was offered to all who cared to avail themselves of the captain’s liberality.
In a very short time the boat was overboard, and a liberty crew, consisting of Martin, Tim, Big Jones, Bill, Anderson, a Norwegian of Gull’s watch, a German called Ernest, the black cook, and myself, jumped into her and started off.
“If I come back again,” said Jones, “they’ll need a good, strong heavy man over there or a pair o’ mules to drag me.”
“Good-bye,” said Bill. “Youst keep awake when we come alongside. ’Twould be a pity to rouse you,” and he grinned knowingly at the men who leaned over the rail to see us depart.
I saw the old rascal Watkins come out in the waist and stand a moment gazing after us, and Ernest bawled out a taunt in German which none of us understood. Then we shot out of hearing and headed for the landing, as wild for the beach as so many apprentices.
The “Doctor,” who was a most powerful nigger, grinned in anticipation of the joys on the shore. His clothes were nondescript and bore evidence of the galley, and his feet were big, black, and bare.
“Yah, yah, yah!” he laughed, “my feet is laughin’ at my pore ole body, all rags and grease. Dey’ll hab a time asho’. Ain’t seen no green grass lately.”
94The boat was run upon the coral, and all hands sprung out without waiting to shove her up. We splashed ashore through the shallow water, leaving the Doctor to haul the boat up and make her fast. It was evident he intended going back aboard, but we were a bit differently inclined.
The black soon joined us and led the way to the nearest rum-shop, the place all sailors steer for, and, without comment, we filed into the dirty hole for our first drink.
“I says, Thunderbo’, give us disha stuff they says do a nigger good,” said the Doctor, who acted as our pilot. “My feet is sure laffin at my belly, Thunderbo’, ’cause it’s as empty as yo’ haid.”
Thunderbore, who was a huge, nautical-looking pirate as black as the Doctor, showed a set of white teeth and a large jar of a vile fluid which fairly tore my throat to ribbons as I swallowed my “whack.” Big Jones took his with a grimace, and was followed by Martin and the rest until all had drunk.
The stuff was pure fire, but the Doctor gulped a full half-pint, and smacked his lips.
“Thunderbo’, yo’ sho’ ain’t gwine to make a po’ nigger drink sech holy water as disha. Give us somethin’ that’ll scratch, yo’ ape, or I’ll have to take charge here,--I sho’ will,” said the Doctor.
Thunderbore had a good temper, but was used to 95dealing with all classes of desperadoes. He passed the jar again, and drew a Spanish machete or corn-knife from his belt. He reached over and smote the Doctor playfully a blow with the flat of it that sounded with a loud clap through the dirty den.
Some of the men laughed in derision, but the Doctor showed his ugly teeth and glared at the den-keeper. He took another drink, and the fiery liquid began to show its effects. Even Martin’s eyes looked queer after a second taste, and he edged toward the huge, smiling African who held the jar and knife.
“I weel ken ye a murderer by yer eye,” said he, “but dare ye lay aside the steel an’ stand forth, I’ll trim ye, ye black ape. I’ll trim ye for th’ sake o’ the good wittles the Doctor has cooked.”
The pernicious effect of the liquor was showing in the men’s faces. Even I, temperate and peacefully disposed as I always am, began to feel a desire to assert myself in a manner not in keeping with my usual modesty. In fact, there were some there who were so drunk they actually accused me afterward of having precipitated trouble by driving my fist into the good-natured Thunderbore’s anatomy and seizing his machete. If I did such a thing, it must have been in the same spirit of playfulness that he exhibited when smiting the Doctor, for I was that peacefully inclined that even after seeing 96a struggling pile of human forms upon the floor, with the jar beneath them, I tried to separate a few with all my strength. After exhausting this, I remember Tim cautioned me to leave the intemperate fellows, who still struggled, threatened, and swore at the black Thunderbore, who, with several friends who had rushed from an adjoining room to his aid, now held the sailors at bay with a boarding-pike. This he jabbed furiously at the Doctor, and, because Big Jones would not allow him to be impaled upon it, the sea cook took offence and turned upon his saviour, with Martin as an able ally.
The whole scene soon resolved itself into a sailors’ brawl, which I feel ashamed to describe. I therefore withdrew with my companion Tim, who was almost as averse to a quarrel as I was myself.
We left the den, and he guided the way through the white streets of coral rock, which shone glaringly in the sunshine. They were dazzling, and the light made my head swim a bit, but we kept on until we ran into a shady lane, where an old negress had a small shanty, in front of which she displayed a litter of shaddocks, sour-sops, and sapodillas. Tim purchased some of the fruit, and then we struck into the bush until we reached a small inlet. Here, in the clear water into which one could see several fathoms, we plunged, leaving our clothing upon the bank.
97“That settles it for me,” I said. “I’ll not go back in that ship. Even Mr. Curtis, with all his money and influence, can’t get me back.”
“Mr. Curtis is closely related to the governor, and can get you easy enough if he wants you,” said Tim. “But I feel myself like making the jump right here. I’ve been here before. There ain’t nothin’ can get off the island without he knows it. That’s the only thing that keeps me from it.”
“I thought you were so keen for me to get out here,” I said, sourly.
“I didn’t suggest Nassau, did I?” said Tim.
“That’s the place,” I answered, “but I suppose you were a bit loony. What made you act bug-house and go over the side, hey?”
Tim looked at me strangely a moment.
“I didn’t mean you to jump right here. You can’t do it. They’ll have us back aboard to-morrow. Wait till we get to the s’uthard for wood. There’ll be a chance on the Caicos or Turk’s Island, and we go in there.”
I swam about, enjoying myself as much as possible with a rising temper at the thought of going back aboard. I began to study the question, and asked about the size of the island and the distances to the different points on the Bahama bank. Tim had been all over the bank, and knew it pretty well, 98and I became absorbed listening to him and forming my plans.
Suddenly it occurred to me I needed a smoke, and started for the shore to get my pipe out of my clothes. We could sit naked in the shade and enjoy life a bit while trying a scheme.
“Where the deuce did you put those clothes?” I asked Tim, who followed me.
“I never touched them. What’s the matter?”
“I don’t see them anywhere,” I answered, suspiciously.
We were both on the bank, and stood there gazing about us. There was nothing in the shape of a garment near, not even a handkerchief. Tim’s white, freckled body looked rather meagre, and I noticed several huge flies that lit upon him and made him jump with their bite. Then something got foul of my back and stung me madly.
“Devil nab me,” I yelled, “what the mischief is it?”
“Nothin’ but a fish-fly,” said Tim, slapping me a rousing whack between the shoulders. “Our clothes are gone all right, and we’ve got to foot it back to the landing naked. What’s the use growlin’ about it?”
“Well, you are a--” but words failed me. That couldn’t express what I felt. I had trusted to Tim’s knowledge of the place, and here was a mess. There 99was no possible means of clearing out without a stitch of clothing, and the rascally thief who had taken ours gave me an idea how closely a deserter would be followed over the low island barren of heavy timber. I looked along the bank, and saw there was no use.
“You’re the biggest fool I ever knew,” I finally said, and we started slowly back to the town, with nothing to clothe us save an air of seeming chastity not at all in keeping with civilization.
Immodesty is the principal vice I do not possess. When we started to get back to The Gentle Hand clothed in the odour of sanctity and villainous liquor, I must say my heart failed me at the sight of the town. We halted at the outskirts and tacked ship, standing for the house of a conch, as the Bahama bank men are called. The mosquitoes and flies had by this time made life almost unbearable, and something had to be done. I objected to stealing on principle, but in practice I expected to err, for, if a suit of clothes could be found not too dirty to wear, I felt it my duty to quell my scruples in the interest of the self-respecting citizens of Nassau.
“Tim,” said I, “you little speckled leopard, you shall go in front. You have, at least, some large brown spots to cover your hide, while I’m as pure white as the coral road we’re walking on.”
Tim demurred at this.
“What’s the matter with you? Put your hulking 101carcass in front, and I’ll walk behind. There’s no use making fun of the thing. You strut about big enough on deck, glad enough to have any one notice you--Hi! there’s an’ ole nigger woman now,” and he crouched down in the long grass.
I sank instantly and hailed the old lady.
“Hi, there! Mammy, have you a spare--er--er pair--I mean an apron or two you could lend?”
“Lawd sakes! How yo’ scart me!” cried the old negress. “Where yo’ is, honey?” and she looked about her.
“We’re over here in the grass. Lost our clothes while swimming. Don’t come over, but just fetch out a bit of dunnage and run away, that’s a good ole gal,” I said.
“Run away! Huh! Who is you toe tell me to run away. I’se Mr. Curtis’ nigger, an’ I doan’ run fo’ no one, I jest tell yo’ dat,” and she advanced toward us.
“Ah, trot along,” growled Tim. “Get us some clothes, or we’ll take some. We haven’t time to fool with any blamed old nigger.”
She advanced close to us, and I noticed she held a small black baby in her arms. Tim edged behind me, and I tried to shove him in front.
“Land sakes alive!” she cried. “He, he, he, yah, yah! Well, I nebber. Yo’ is sho’ nuff nakid. Jest as nakid as this little babe under his clothes. 102Yah, yah, he is sho’ just as nakid as you is under his clothes. Well, I nebber--”
But we waited no longer. The situation was too humiliating, and we sprang to our feet and dashed down the path into the scrub.
“What the deuce will we do?” I asked, when we were out of sight. “If she wasn’t a woman, I’d rip her clothes off pretty quick and make shift of her skirt.”
“S’pose we lay for some man, then,” said Tim. “Seems to me you might turn your knowledge of scrappin’ to some account.”
“I’ve a notion to practise a bit on you, you speckled beauty,” said I, angrily. “It’s your foolishness that got us in this fix.”
“Here comes a feller your size. Try him.”
I turned and followed his gaze, and there, sure enough, loomed a huge black conch with a bucketful of sour-sops in either hand, striding up the path. Hung over his shoulder was a long blacksnake whip, such as overseers sometimes used upon refractory slaves.
“Hi, there, uncle,” I cried, “I would like to buy some sops,” and we both stepped forth into view.
The fellow’s ugly visage wrinkled, and he set his buckets upon the ground.
“Who is yo’?” he asked, sourly.
103“We? Why, we are visitors, friends of Mr. Curtis,” I said. “We left our clothes over there at the inlet, and some son of a polecat ran off with them. Give us some sops and give us a shift. We’ll pay you well for it.”
“Whar’s yo’ munny?” he growled.
“In our clothes. Sink you for a fool nigger, you don’t suppose we have pockets in our skins, do you?”
“Who yo’ callin’ a fool nigger?” and he drew his whip over his shoulder. “Don’t yo’ call me no names, yo’ po’ white trash. I’ll cut yo’ toe ribbons, dat I will.”
Before either of us could spring aside, the lash flew out and caught first one and then the other of us on our naked bodies. The pain was awful. Tim dashed up the path instantly without waiting for a second dose, and the huge conch sprang after him, leaving me behind.
Away they went, the lash flying out like the tongue of a snake, landing every time upon that part of poor Tim’s anatomy which is said to be equally discourteous to present to either friend or enemy. And every time it landed, it brought forth a yell. I stood grinning for an instant, in spite of the pain I suffered, and then the sense of outraged decency getting the best of my risibilities, I launched myself full speed in pursuit.
104Away we went up that trail, Tim’s speckled body leading the way, his red hair streaming in the wind, and close behind him rushed that big black conch with his cruel whip, his bare feet not heeding in the least a thousand things that pricked and pained the soles of mine, as I tore along in his wake.
“Hi, hi, go it, Jackson!” howled a black fellow who stood in the path and watched the race.
An upper cut with my left fist did much to abate his zeal, and left him lying upon his back, while with undiminished speed I went ahead. Soon the white coral street of the town showed a bit in front through the bushes, and in another minute we were fairly into the main street of Nassau.
I was now thoroughly aroused, and forgot entirely my predicament, so intent was I upon reaching that rascal’s back. I called hoarsely for Tim to stop, but, either because I was a bit winded or our pace was too fast to allow the sound of my voice to reach him, he heeded it not at all, but held his pace under all sail.
White men now sprang from doorways to see what had happened, as the yells came flying down the thoroughfare, and many women immodestly halted to view the spectacle. I don’t know how the matter would have ended had not Tim turned a corner suddenly, and plunged straight into the arms 105of Big Jones and Martin, who were rushing for the pavement at the sound of alarm.
The Scotchman, with rare presence of mind, made a grab at Tim’s speckled body, thinking it some peculiar breed of ape that had escaped from its keeper, and in doing so lost his drunken balance, and plunged head foremost into the stomach of the pursuing conch, and together they rolled over into the street. Before they could disengage, I had a grip upon that conch that he will remember yet.
“Deil save us, ye cateran, what is it?” gasped the inebriated Scot, struggling to his feet. “What? You Heywood! Ye immodest heathen! Hold him, ye black feller, an’ I’ll lay the lash upon his unchaste hide.”
Before he could come to the conch’s assistance, a speckled form sprang upon him and bore him back again into the street, and I saw Tim change from a fugitive into a veritable leopard, striking fiercely and tearing at the blouse of the sailor until it had parted and come away in halves. Just then I had business with the giant conch that needed attention, and I saw nothing more of that fracas.
The black man was a powerful fellow, but he lacked skill. The blow in the stomach had winded him temporarily, and, before he had recovered, I was cutting him up scientifically with his own whip, while the crowd hooted and cheered in derision. 106When I desisted, he could hardly stand, much less walk, and then Big Jones, who was enjoying the spectacle, offered me his jumper. This I put on by running my legs through the sleeves, after splitting them, and buttoning it behind. Tim had by this time divested Martin of his spare raiment, and, dressed somewhat alike, we strode side by side with much dignity to the boat, followed by Big Jones, the Welshman, and an admiring throng of natives who cheered us lustily.
Martin and the well-thrashed overseer were left behind to compare notes, while, with the blue eagle upon my breast fairly red with mortification, we stepped aboard and shoved off.
As we drew up alongside The Gentle Hand, our peculiar attire attracted more or less attention. Hawkson called vociferously for Hicks, Renshaw, and the rest to observe us. Captain Howard threw back his head and cackled away like an old hen, his bald poll turning red with exertion.
“Sink me!” he cried, “but you two men shall lay aft here.”
The Yankee trader shook with emotion, and insisted that Mr. Gull fetch us aft to parade the quarter-deck. This I had no intention of doing, so, springing quickly into the channels, I made a rush for the forecastle, and got below before we were captured. But Tim was not so lucky. He was intercepted by Mr. Gull, and escaped below only after a vigorous chase, in which all hands joined, pelting him with rope’s-ends and whatever they could lay hands to. As the uproar of laughter on deck subsided, we changed our jumpers for clothes, both 108mad and disgusted thoroughly at the humiliating performance we had undergone. But, tired as we were, Mr. Gull turned us to with the men who had stayed aboard and were sent below into the ’tween deck, where the noise of hammering now became apparent. Richards took no notice of us while he was at work overhauling a pile of lumber brought from the shore. Evidently he was disgusted at our behaviour and took this way of showing it.
Jorg, the Finn, was working away with a gang of men, building a platform around the sides of the empty hold, and driving heavy staples into the barque’s ceiling. He gave me a sour look as I passed him, and then Mr. Gull led the way aft to where Henry was at work cutting up planks.
“Better measure ’em off accurate, Heywood,” he said, motioning to the pile of lumber that lay near. “Allow six feet six inches fer them long niggers, or they’ll be lame from hanging their heavy feet over the edge.”
Then he passed on, leaving me alone with the ferret-faced officer, who was sawing up a length of plank. The long lines of staples with chains attached began to have some meaning to me now, for the effects of the run had done much to clear my head. Henry saw my gaze following the line forward, and stopped to mop the perspiration from his dripping face.
109“What d’ye think, will she carry five hundred, hey?” he said.
The horror of the thing began to dawn upon me. The chains and staples were for human beings. The temperature of that hold, as it was, could not have been less than one hundred degrees. What would it be with a mass of filthy black humanity packed and wedged in as tight as they could be stowed!
“Is five hundred niggers her rating?” I asked, with unconcern.
Henry shot his fox-like glance at me.
“Don’t you really know no better’n that?” he said.
“Slaving and piracy hasn’t been my chief occupation, Henry,” I said. “My people have always been respectable, and I have been a man-o’-war’s man. Besides, my mother hasn’t been hung yet.”
“Well,” he said, wincing at this last part of my remark, “law an’ justice air two different things. It hain’t a penal hoffence to bring a fool into the world, but it should be,--an’ a capital one, too.”
“I’ll admit justice miscarried in the case of your parents, but let it go. Explain what’s wrong with me. I don’t know any better than ask if five hundred is this bark’s complement, cargo, or whatever you choose to call it.”
“Well, if ye’d ever been in a slaver before, Hi cudn’t hexcuse yer foolishness, Heywood, but, since 110ye ask me, ye may note that this here ’tween-decks will mighty nigh accommodate a trifle o’ five hundred. What about the lower hold, hey?”
“Do you mean that they’ll fill her up solid with human bodies?” I asked.
“Oh, no; they’ll let in a bit o’ air through the hatch-gratings in good weather. The voyage ain’t a-goin’ to last for ever. Say, d’ye think this is a slow ship? You seen her run. Honest now, how long d’ye calculate we be ’tween here an’ the Guinea coast. A man, even a nigger, can stand bein’ shut up a little while. An’ then, stave you, Heywood, for a priest, don’t ye think a bit o’ sufferin’ is worth goin’ through to be a good Christian an’ die in the faith, hey? Every black bloomin’ son of a gun’ll be as good Christian as you are afore he dies.”
I said no more. When I saw Tim he showed no surprise.
“I expected at least that,” he said. “It’s Yankee Dan’s principal business. I was with them once before, an’ that’s the reason I wanted you to clear.”
“It’s a strange Yankee that should be at the head of such a business,” said I. “Now, if a Spaniard--”
“Stow it!” said Tim, angrily. “There never was any other real slaver than the Yankee, an’ they’re the ones makin’ the most howl against it. 111Nearly every slave-ship that comes here has a Yankee shipper.”
This I found later to be only too true. It was more than disgraceful for the fact that, even at that time, in the Northern States there had been angry discussions upon the question, the South being scored heavily for the slaves it held from necessity to work the plantations.
It was evident that the English governor winked at the trade, and that few, if any, of our crew had suspected before this time just what the barque’s trade would be. As there seemed every prospect of many of them not coming aboard again, I would not worry myself about the matter when they would learn the truth. As for Martin, he would be glad to be in a slaver, and as for the morals of the rest of the liberty crew, they were not worth considering when pitted against a few English sovereigns or American dollars. I went aft that evening to lower the colours with a very disagreeable feeling at the prospect in store.
It was always the custom aboard The Gentle Hand, I learned, to lower the colours in man-o’-war style when the vessel was in soundings, so I repaired to the quarter-deck to load one of the after guns, and stand by to set the sun.
Tim went with me, acting as quartermaster, and I felt somewhat abashed at the presence of Miss 112Allen, Yankee Dan’s daughter. I wondered if she had seen me come aboard, and the memory of that jumper put on upside down made my face wear a smile that was not lost on Hawkson.
“Glad to see you lookin’ happy, Heywood. Yer see, this ain’t sech a bad ship, after all. Put a good big charge in that twelve-pounder, and p’int her straight for the governor’s house, and let him know there’s some say t’us. It never hurts to put on a bit o’ side to these lazy rulers,” said he, as I began unlacing the gun-cover.
“Do you want a shot rammed in it, too?” I asked. “It might be just as well to stir him up with a handful of good iron. It would probably be small loss to his country if he happened to try and stop it.”
“That’s where you show a lot o’ foolishness,” he replied. “There’s devilish few men like him, and, if his country can spare him, we can’t. By no means let a shot get in that gun.”
While we were talking, Miss Allen came up the companionway accompanied by Hicks, Renshaw, and Curtis. She looked magnificent as she stood there in the fading sunlight, her hair taking on a deep coppery-red colour, and her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Will you let me fire it, Mr. Sailorman?” she 113asked, nodding toward the gun which I was loading.
“Indeed he will not,” said Mr. Curtis, whom I now observed to be a man of some presence, wearing a single eye-glass and a look such as I had imagined belonged to men much given to science and books.
“You have my permission,” laughed Sir John, winking awkwardly, “but, of course, you must not disobey.”
“I have not promised to obey yet,” said the girl, with a slight raising of the eyebrows. “Suppose, Sir John, you allow your wit to flow in different channels.”
“Wit!” growled Renshaw. “Don’t use the word, I beg you, in connection with his speech. One might really suppose there was such a quality in his nature, since you suggest it, Miss Allen, and much as I should like to--”
“Oh, stow it! Belay for the lady’s sake,” said Sir John. “There is such a thing as talking a person to death.”
“Between the two of you, she is in rather a dangerous situation,” said Mr. Curtis, sourly, “but I suppose there is some excuse for men who have been at sea over a month.”
Miss Allen had heard little or none of this last 114remark, for she was advancing to me as I stood at the breech of the fine brass gun.
“Do you give me the lock-spring. I see it does not need a port-fire like those ashore,” said she, coming to my side.
“It is not time to fire yet,” I said. “Mr. Hawkson will come from below and pass the word from the old man--I mean, Captain Howard.”
“Why, he and papa will never get through talking as long as there’s a bottle between them,” she said. “Let me have the cord. What care I for your Captain Howard?”
“Here, you fellow! Don’t give Miss Allen that lanyard,” said Mr. Curtis, in a tone such as he had probably been accustomed to use to his niggers. It rubbed me the wrong way. I was entitled to mister while on the poop.
I bowed and passed the string into her hand, and noticed how firm and round were the fingers that closed upon it.
“Fire whenever you are ready, Miss Allen,” said I. “Jerk hard upon the cord.”
The next instant there was a flash and roar. The blue powder smoke swirled over the harbour, and the echoes were loosened in the bay, while over all a slight, droning snore, rapidly dying away in the distance, told of a twelve-pound solid shot tearing 115its way through the quiet air between the ship and the governor’s house.
I looked vainly to see the effect of the shot, wondering how on earth the ball came to get into the gun. Then the humming of the signal halyards called my attention, and I saw Tim lowering the ensign, with a peculiar glint in his eyes, while Hawkson, Yankee Dan, and the captain came bounding from below.
“What the devil has happened?” bawled Hawkson, emerging first. “Who told you to fire that gun?” and he glared at me.
“I just told the rascal not to,” said Mr. Curtis, “and what does he do but deliberately do it.”
Captain Howard turned his mask-like face to me.
“Did you have shot in that piece?” he asked.
“Not that I know of,” I stammered, hesitatingly, for, though I had heard the shot as plainly as he, I knew nothing of how it came in the gun.
“You may put him in double irons until I want him,” said Howard, dismissing the subject and turning to the trader.
“He did not fire that gun, and shall not go in irons,” said Miss Allen, firmly, standing before her father and the captain. “I fired that gun. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Howard looked straight at her for a moment. Then he broke forth into his cackling laugh.
116“Nothing, of course. He, he, he, ho, ho! not a thing. If you fired that gun, it’s all right. Ho, ho, ho! Now, Dan, you’d better go ashore and explain to the governor how your daughter happened to send a twelve-pounder into his house. When you come back, maybe you’ll think ten thousand pounds is a big price to pay for the risk we run, and maybe you won’t. If he’s in a good humour, I doubt if he lets you land.”
I was allowed to go forward, followed by Tim, who gave me a queer look as he passed.
“What did you do it for?” I asked, when we were out of hearing.
But Tim only looked sullen and said nothing.
“I have half a notion to report you,” I said, angrily.
“Call away the shore boat!” came Hawkson’s hail, and, before we had a chance to say anything more, we were hustled into her by Mr. Gull, while the negro crew in Mr. Curtis’s gig dropped to the gangway.
Henry came in our boat, with orders to collect his men and bring them aboard, and we had just time to see the trader and his daughter embark with Mr. Curtis, followed by the jests of the gentlemen aboard who handed the young lady down the ladder. I felt very grateful to Miss Allen, and, as her laughter 118fell upon our ears, Henry turned and gazed astern.
“If I know the governor, there’ll be trouble yet,” said he. “That Yankee ain’t too well liked.”
As we drew near the landing, we noticed a crowd gathering, and an official-looking person in a peculiar uniform or livery came to meet us.
“I have a message for your captain,” said he.
“Is it official?” asked Henry.
“It is, and both imperative and immediate,” said the man.
“I suppose, then, you want to deliver it?” asked Henry.
“Your discernment does you great credit,” said the man.
“Why! Wh-o-o-a! Say not so,” said Henry, with impressive gravity. “In a hurry, eh?”
“I am, and it’ll be the worse for you if you delay me any longer.”
“Now hark at that man!” cried Henry, as his little eyes glittered. “Delay him! Here I am a-goin’ right along about my business, an’ here this chap comes up sayin’ I delay him. I’ll see the gove’nor about this. Come along, bullies,” and he sprang ashore, ordering us to follow.
“It’s the governor who will see you, you fellow,” said the man.
“An’ him a-callin’ me names,” cried Henry. 119Then in a lower tone, as we drew away: “Hi reckon ’is ’ighness’ll get along without us. We’ll want to hustle that crew aboard ’fore there’s trouble.”
This seemed harder to me than it did to the third mate, and I smiled as I thought of Jones, Martin, and the fighting Doctor. We quickly left the vicinity of the landing, and hurried through the darkening streets in the direction of the den kept by the truculent Thunderbore.
They were not there, and we hurried on in the direction the big conch told us they had taken, Henry apparently confident that we would have them in hand shortly.
As the darkness fell, and objects could not be distinguished, the desire to desert the barque took strong hold of me. Her mission was apparent now, and I determined to make a dash for liberty at the first opportunity. Tim’s peculiar behaviour troubled me, and I was somewhat backward in taking him into my confidence. However, when we struck into an extremely dark street, I thought his knowledge of the town would be of use, and I whispered my intention of clearing. The next instant we were plunging into the darkness, while Henry’s voice bawled forth, dying away in the distance:
“Come back, ye blazin’ fools! Come back!”
We ran wildly up the street until it ended in a 120thick thorn hedge, into which I foolishly plunged, getting badly scratched for my pains. The impetus of the run sent me through and into a ditch beyond, followed by Tim, who plunged through the opening my body had made. He landed heavily upon me, knocking the breath out of my body, and for awhile I lay there unable to rise. Then Mr. Henry’s voice, cursing a couple of fools, sounded unpleasantly near, and I started up, resolved to make a fight if necessary.
The little mate, however, refused to seize us, even though he could easily have done so, as he reached the bank of the ditch before we could get clear. He tried to argue the question, preferring words to blows in the darkness, doubtless fearing the knife in such an encounter.
“What’s the meanin’ of it, anyways?” he asked. “What yer runnin’ fer?”
“Go on, Henry,” said I. “Go get the men, but don’t try to get me back aboard the slaver, or there’ll be trouble.”
“Well, where ye a-goin’? What’s the sense o’ playin’ the fool when you have to be a man, anyways. I ain’t goin’ to te’ch you, but I’ll say right here you’ll probably get irons for tryin’ this fool trick.”
“When I’m aboard, we’ll discuss the irons. Now stand clear, or there’ll be trouble.”
121Tim and I started across the clearing, heading for a light we saw in the distance. Henry declined to follow, and we left him swearing at our stupidity. Going on, we came to a pathway which led toward the house, and we had hardly struck into it when there was a rush of feet on the coral, followed by a deep growling.
“Keep clear of the houses. Cut for the cover back of the town,” said Tim, hoarsely.
As I sheered off, a huge animal sprang upon me and knocked me down, fastening its teeth in my neck and shoulder. I heard Tim cry out, “Bloodhound,” and then he flung himself upon the beast, while I tried my best to pull out my knife and get the animal in front of me.
The dog let out a deep, baying cry as Tim struck, and this was answered by several animals near the house. I soon had my knife at work, and, in spite of a lacerated shoulder, plunged it again and again into the ferocious brute. Then he relaxed his hold, and I stood up. A lantern flashed in the path, and, before we could run, forms of men showed close to us.
“Who is it? What’s the matter?” said a strong voice I recognized as Yankee Dan’s. Behind him were Mr. Curtis, Miss Allen, and the two stalwart conchs who accompanied them from the landing.
122It was now or never. The dog was evidently done for, and we must run for it.
“Come on,” I said to Tim, and away we went.
“Halt!” came the deep voice of the trader. “Halt, or I’ll fire!”
“It’s the sailors; don’t!” cried Miss Allen.
We were going pretty fast, and must have been out of sight in a few minutes. Perhaps the trader did not wish to hit us. At all events, his shot whistled past, and we were soon out of range. Had he known the loss of his dog, he might have taken better aim.
We were soon in the thick tropical jungle, and, as it was almost impenetrable, we were forced to halt. We waited a few minutes to try and get our bearings, and then worked out into the open again, keeping away from all lights. In this way we blundered along for an hour or two, Tim swearing noisily at the darkness and obstacles that came in our path.
“It’s all foolishness, anyhow, for you to clear here,” said he. “They’ve hounds that’ll catch us in half an hour, and there’s no way to leave this island, without going to sea, before they hunt for us.”
“Well, show me a boat,” said I, angrily. “Anything that’ll carry a sail across the Florida channel will do, and, if you think I’ll mind stealing it, you 123know mighty little how I want to clear. I’ll face the savages of the Florida peninsula before going with that gang of nigger hunters.”
We skirted the town, and finally came out on the shore near the harbour entrance. Here we could find some kind of craft, for there were numerous spongers and fishermen in the town.
Tim finally brought up on the beach and tried to get his bearings. There was nothing in sight that looked like a sailing craft, except a dim shadow out in the harbour which gave promise of being an able sloop, for the tapering line that went skyward seemed to describe a tall mast. We cast about to find some means of getting aboard without swimming, for the water looked black and forbidding, and the phosphorus flared weirdly in places, and gave rise to a belief in the presence of that ugly fish, the shark of the Bahama bank.
While we skirted the fringe of rippling waves, which flamed and sparkled as they rolled upon the beach, we heard the deep-mouthed baying of hounds.
“My God! I told you so,” said Tim.
“They’re a long way off yet,” I answered, surlily.
“A sailor ain’t much at running, ye know, an’ we haven’t all night to clear,” he answered.
“Well, you’ve forgotten your gait mighty sudden, then,” said I. “How about this morning?”
But Tim had struck into a quick trot, and I followed, 124for the deep, musical cry of those dogs was anything but nerve-steadying, sounding as it did through the darkness, when not a tree or house showed us a place of refuge. It was take to either a tree or water, and, as there were no trees, I made ready for a swim, willing to trust the hidden monsters below the surface rather than those of dry land.
After running for a few minutes toward the town, the cry of the hounds sounded louder. They were evidently upon our trail, and it would be but a few minutes before they would close with us, and then capture would be certain. It might be well if we were captured before the brutes seized us, for, judging from the size of the one we had killed, they would make things pretty hot if it came to a fight.
“Into the water!” panted Tim.
We struck into the edge of the surf, splashing through the water where it was but a few inches deep, hoping thus to put the dogs off the scent. In a little while, however, we found this failed to check them, for, while they stopped a few minutes at the spot we struck the water, they soon showed sagacity enough to burst into full cry and come tearing up the beach in our wake.
We were now nearing houses again, and in a moment bright lights shone ahead. A large building 125on the edge of the town showed lights in many windows, and the sound of music and hoarse voices came forth. It was evidently a place for fishermen and traders to carouse, and we headed straight for it as the baying drew close to our heels. The door was open, and in we dashed, flinging it to in the faces of as ugly a pair of brutes as I ever saw.
The hounds were evidently well trained to hunt slaves, for they flung themselves against the panels until the lock burst and the door flew open, letting them into the room in full cry.
Our entrance into the company collected in that place naturally caused some commotion. The big Welshman, Jones, was in the act of footing a hornpipe with a tall, yellow girl for a partner; Martin sat with a mug of ale on one hand and a stout blond woman on the other, and he fiercely squeezed and pulled an old accordion, while the black Doctor howled and patted time with his bare feet upon the prostrate form of Ernest, the German. The rest of the company were ranged about, looking at the big Welshman, roaring or screaming as the case happened to be.
For an instant the crowd stopped spellbound at our headlong entrance. Martin was in the act of hurling the accordion at us in his anger at being interrupted. The door crashed in, and the two black shapes leaped among them.
126The hounds, with their flaming eyes and lolling tongues, presented a hideous spectacle, and the effect of their headlong plunge was too much for the nerves of the drunken crew. There was a wild howl of terror and a general scramble. I knocked over one lamp, and Tim adroitly dowsed the other, causing total darkness, and then above the wild din I could hear Martin’s voice, roaring:
“’Tis th’ dev’l, man! Tis th’ dev’l! Gawd save us, ’tis th’ dev’l himsel’! Coom out an’ fight like a man, ye coward! Coom in th’ light, an’ I’ll whollop ye like a babe, ye sneakin’ traitor! Coom out an’ stan’ to a true Christian sailor--ho-oo-t!”
The screams of the women and bawling of the men, coupled with the deep baying howls in the darkness, caused a disorder hard to describe.
There were several windows in the large room, but in the wild scramble these were overlooked by some, and, before the hounds could disengage themselves from the struggling crowd, Tim and I had leaped out and were running wildly into the streets of Nassau.
Windows were thrown open and heads peered out, looking in the direction of the uproar, and I distinctly heard several doubtful encomiums pronounced upon the habits of sailors by some of the more respectable residents of that not very pious 127town. Then we fell into a walk, somewhat amused at our sudden deliverance, and soon mingled with the loungers upon the broad street, which at this early hour was still full of people.
After following the street for a time, we concluded that our presence would be noted by the natives, and we turned into a broad, poorly lighted avenue, whose pavement shone white in the darkness. Here the houses seemed of the better class, and, as the avenue stretched away back inland to the southward, we decided to get across to the other side of the island, and trust to getting a sponger or fisherman to take us to some of the deserted cays until we could make good our escape.
“If you didn’t leave such a confounded trail,” said Tim, “the dogs couldn’t follow us. But you must be mighty nigh as smelly as a nigger, for they never even slowed down after they hit it fair.”
I was about to make a rather warm retort to this remark, but at that instant the door of a large house across the street opened, and a boy appeared upon the threshold. He was joined instantly by a large 129woman, whose strong face in profile showed plainly against the light inside.
Tim halted and seized my arm. Then he swore softly, and stood gazing at them while they came out into the street. The door was closed with a bang by the woman, but not before I had time to note her figure. She was huge. Almost as tall as myself, and her shoulders were those of a prize-fighter.
“Georgie, you dear,” she said, “if you run off this time, you’ll be sorry.” And her voice was peculiarly gentle and soft, almost absurdly so for a person of her size. She locked the door, and they came toward us until we started to turn aside to pass.
“Mary!” said Tim, in a low tone.
The woman stopped as if turned to stone.
“Who is it?” she asked, sweetly, and I saw her face clearly as she looked full at me. She was handsome. It was dark, but her eyes shone, and I could see the firm sweep of her chin and the well-cut nose and lips. She was not young, but she had all the colour and vigour of a girl.
“It’s me,” said Tim, shortly.
The next instant the boy’s stick fell across his shoulders with a loud whack.
“Clear out, you rascal,” he said. “How dare you speak to a lady! Oh, it’s you, is it--”
130In an instant the boy’s arms were around Tim’s neck, and he was hugging him closely.
“Oh, papa, papa!” he was crying, while the woman looked on silently.
In a moment Tim put him aside and stood before his wife. The scene was strange, and, as I stood by, gazing at them, I thought of what the little sailor had told me.
Tim advanced and held out his hand. The woman sprang forward and seized it, pressing it to her lips and falling upon her knees.
“Forgive me,” she said.
But the sailor could not or would not answer. He stood looking down at her a long time.
“Oh, Tim, Tim!” she pleaded, gazing up at him.
I was somewhat disturbed at the scene, for there were people abroad on the streets, and here was a fine, large woman, as good-looking as one would care to see, kneeling before a pitiful-looking sailor, who was as ragged and dirty looking as a forlorn slave. If we were to make good an escape from the barque, it was anything but the proper thing to make a scene in the town streets.
“He is aboard the barque,” said Tim, slowly. “Will you give him up and come back to me if I get away?”
I knew he was speaking of Renshaw.
“Yes, yes,” moaned the woman; “only say you’ll 131forgive me, Tim. I’ll try and help you get away. You know I can handle a boat, and can come up to you on the ship if you will let me--”
He placed his hand upon her head and bade her rise. As he did so, two men came from the shadow of the houses across the street, and I immediately recognized Renshaw, followed by the bos’n, who came respectfully a few feet behind him. Old Richards drew up alongside his master, and stood ready for further orders.
“Get back to your boat, sir,” said Renshaw, addressing Tim.
The little sailor waited to see his wife upon her feet. Then he turned, and I expected to see him make a break for it, as he struck me as being pretty good at running. But I was mistaken.
With a sudden lunge, he struck Renshaw a terrific blow in the face. The next instant the bos’n sprang forward and tried to grab him, and would have succeeded but for the fact that my foot slid out between, and Richards went sprawling in the dust.
It looked as though things would take a more serious turn, for Tim had now been in open mutiny. Renshaw had fallen and struck his head on a piece of the flagging in front of the house, and lay quite insensible.
132“For the Lord’s sake, Richards, let us get away,” I said, as the bos’n arose angrily to his feet.
“Into the house, quick,” cried Tim’s wife, as she led the way toward the door.
“He isn’t hurt half as badly as he ought to be,” said Tim, pointing to the fallen man. “Take him away, bos’n, before some one sees him.”
Then we crowded to the door, which was flung open.
At that minute the deep baying of the hounds fell upon our ears, sounding weirdly musical in the night, and a few moments later human forms dashed up the street, with the leaping animals straining at the chains that held them, fairly pulling the men into their tremendous stride.
“Way there! way there!” bawled a voice I knew was Henry’s, and, before I could move, one of the animals, with a howl, leaped straight for my throat.
All thought of escape was gone in an instant, and I struggled desperately with the animal, while the black conch beat and pulled to drag him off.
Finally, after I had my hands badly torn with the brute’s teeth, they succeeded in quieting him, and Henry clapped irons upon my wrists. Then I saw Tim had also been taken, and was standing quietly with his hands ironed behind him and his head bowed forward, his thoughts evidently far away from the barque or her crew. Upon the white 133coral road lay a dark object, and, while I looked, men raised it and bore it into the house the woman had but left a few minutes before.
I stood gazing after them until Henry shoved me roughly ahead.
“Come, git a move on ye,” said he. And his fingers closed upon my arm like a vice.
We went some distance before reaching the landing where we had come ashore, and I was more astonished to find that, in spite of our wild run, the boat was not only waiting for our return, but had an uproarious crowd ironed in her. I could hear the voice of Martin raised in an argument with Bill, insisting the devil had taken charge and was afraid to stand to a true Christian like himself. And the big Norwegian would earnestly try to strike him, and then bewailed his inability, owing to his ironed hands. Above all, the deep roar of Jones floated over the quiet harbour, joined now and then by the thick tones of the Doctor bawling for Thunderbo’ to bring him something that would “scratch.”
We were hustled into the boat without ceremony, and started for the barque.
As we drew alongside, Hawkson’s voice hailed us.
“Got ’em all?” said he.
“Hevery bloomin’ one, sur,” answered Henry.
“Knock off their irons, then, and let ’em turn 134in. We’ll make a start early in the mornin’ if things turn out all right.”
“There’s been a bit o’ trouble ashore,” said Henry, climbing up the chains, and then he evidently told Hawkson something of what had happened, for Tim’s irons and mine were left on, and we were hustled below, where we were hitched to ring-bolts in the slave-deck.
Shortly afterward, the noise of the howling men ceased, and I knew that they had either obeyed orders and turned in, or had been gagged. It was dark below, and I could see nothing of Tim. I spoke his name softly, but received no answer. Then I heard a voice, agonized and full of great suffering, praying and pleading for some one to come back again.
It was hard to tell just when the morning dawned in that dark hold of the slaver. I was awakened by Henry coming below and leading us both on deck, where our usual mess of bread and coffee was served for breakfast. Then we were told to lay aft, and, following Hawkson, we entered the cabin to hear our sentence pronounced by Captain Howard.
As we entered, that strange old rascal was at the table with Hicks, engaged in a most peculiar game. The cloth was divided up into squares like a checker-board, and from opposite sides the two were hard at it, and paid no attention to Hawkson’s entrance. In a short time I found that “beef was king,” that is, a plate with meat upon it could jump a dish of bread or cup of coffee, as with checkers, the person losing not having any more of that victual for the meal. While they played, they ate from whatever dishes they could reach, and were so absorbed 136that it was not until Hicks jumped the old man’s plate of sliced pineapple with a chunk of salt beef that the old villain turned and noticed us. Then he surlily demanded what was wanted.
Whether it was the loss of his fruit or memory of the last night’s occurrence that oppressed him, it was hard to tell, but his mask-like face showed no feeling. He bade Hawkson stand us against the cabin bulkhead, and called Watkins to hand him pistols.
The old steward obeyed with alacrity, for it was only too evident what he wanted them for. Hicks, however, burst forth into a laugh.
“Hold on, Captain Howard,” said he. “You forget this isn’t exactly a pirate ship. Bless your old heart, you would pistol them both.”
“And I will,” said the old villain, cocking back the flints of the weapons.
He had formerly had the playful habit of loosing off one or both of his pistols under the table, to suddenly emphasize an after-dinner argument, and the rough habits of his early days stuck to him, only now the weapons appeared above the board. The game of grub, I learned, was one he had practised with his mates in the old days when the gambling habit had taken so strong hold upon him he must play at something.
Hicks, however, would hear of no such thing 137as shooting us without trial. The captain’s will, he admitted, was law, but we were in an English harbour and not on the high seas, and such action might cause endless trouble if the governor heard of it. Hawkson also urged the necessity of care for the sake of the voyage, and indeed he appeared somewhat worried about the matter until the pistols were finally laid aside and our case taken up.
Tim was asked if he had anything to say why the sentence of death should not be pronounced upon him. It would be fulfilled, with the governor’s permission, sometime that day. He had admitted the testimony of two witnesses, who swore they had seen him wound Renshaw.
He was silent and hung his head. Then he raised it and stood straight before them.
“I don’t mind the sentence,” said he, “but I do mind it coming from such as you.”
“You may gag and take him forward,” said Howard. “He shall be blown from a gun.”
He was led away, and they turned to me.
What had I to say? Well, I had considerable, and I told at some length how I had nothing whatever to do with Tim’s case.
“You may drop him overboard with a shot to each foot,” said Howard, as I finished. “Call away the gig, Mr. Hawkson. I’ll go over to the governor’s before he gets too warm to see any one.”
138The whole scene, the entire lack of feeling, the disposing of our cases as though we were simply niggers, made an impression upon me that can hardly be described. Then the old pirate turned to his meal as though nothing had happened, and finished his coffee, while I was led forward.
“Keep a stiff neck, Heywood,” said the old privateersman, as we came on deck. “I believe you’re all right. I’ve heard something of this Renshaw before. He’s a feller of title, ye know, an’, if it wasn’t for that, I could save the little red-headed feller, too. But Sir John will insist on one o’ ye goin’. Blow the little chap from a gun? I’ll see he hears more o’ your story, an’, if worse comes from it, I’ll--well, never mind. There’s plenty o’ time between now and when the old man sees the governor. He won’t do anything without permission in port.”
“Don’t take any trouble on my account,” I said, angrily. “I’ve tried to clear fair enough, and would have gone but for Tim meeting his wife. I’d as soon stand in front as behind the guns of a slaver.”
“You’ll never have sense enough to stand anywhere, an’ that’s a fact,” growled Hawkson. “A good ship, a good crew, and plenty of profit in sight. D--n you, Heywood, I’ve a notion to take you at your word.”
139His fierce eyes held an evil light that I knew boded no good, and his ugly mouth worked convulsively, showing his teeth. I was aware my case was not one to trifle with too freely, and concluded I would hold my tongue. He left me with an ugly sneer, and I went below attended by Mr. Gull, who eyed me savagely, and hustled me with such energy that I turned upon him.
“You want to bear a hand and remember that a live sailor is worth a couple of fool slavers,” said I. “It’ll pay you to be a bit more careful, Mr. Gull.”
“Shut up!” he answered, and hitched my shackle to the ceiling. Then he turned and left me without another word, while I cursed freely and fluently, with as much bitterness as a man can express in language.
It was very dark, and I knew nothing of what was going on above, although I noticed as I crossed the deck that the fore and main topsails were hanging up by their clews, all ready to sheet home, and above them the royals were also hanging loose. From this I gathered that there would be a start made very soon, and even as I wondered at our probable destination, I heard the distant clank and rattle of the windlass. Then I recognized the Doctor’s voice bawling the old refrain:
140“Dey’s trouble ob-hyer, an’ dey’s trouble ober dar,
An’ I really do believe dat dey’s trouble ebbywhar--
Trouble--trouble--”
And I knew the mates were working the liquor out of his black hide.
Soon the anchor was short, and then silence reigned for a time, broken only by the scurrying of a ship’s rat across the empty hold.
How oppressive the bilge heat was, and how rank the stench of the hold! The barque had evidently been built at a time when salting ships had not come into fashion, and her old timbers stunk. I tried to think of the events of yesterday, and wondered what had become of poor Tim. I feared they would give him the full penalty, for, although Renshaw was a notorious adventurer, he was interested in the craft, and was a friend of Hicks.
His position, also, called for summary vengeance upon a common sailor, even though that sailor was an American.
In my case, however, the affair was different. I had done nothing to either aid or abet Tim in his assault. I was deserting, and had admitted that, but I knew nothing of the other affair that had ended so uncomfortably and caused our arrest. Hawkson knew this well enough, and it was with him my fate rested. He might save me from a hanging yet.
141I stood wondering when and how the case would be settled, and was very hot and tired, but the shackle would not allow me to either sit or lie down upon the deck. The pain caused by the strain upon my wrists was intense, and I swore loudly at the men who had forced me into the cursed ship.
Suddenly I thought I heard a laugh. I strained my eyes in the direction whence it came, and soon made out a shape sitting upon the lower step of the ladder leading on deck. It chuckled and grunted for some minutes, and I wondered what it was, when it rose, and I made out the figure of Watkins.
The old steward came over and stood looking with a hideous sneer upon his face. The light was enough to see each outline of his features, for my eyes were now accustomed to the gloom, and the hatch let in a small ray of sunshine through the crack of the slide.
“You seem devilishly well pleased, Noah,” said I, with as much composure as I could muster.
He made no reply, but came close to me, and, leaning forward, as if about to whisper something in my ear, he seized that member in his teeth and bit it slowly. The pain was intense, and I roared out, wiggling to free myself from the monster, but he held on for many minutes.
I was fairly sick with pain, but the old fellow failed to notice that my legs were not ironed. As 142I was unable to move, he had doubtless supposed they were shackled.
With what remaining strength I had left, I kicked him, and by excellent luck landed full upon his stomach. He gave a grunt and doubled up like a pocket-knife, falling away from me and lying motionless upon the deck.
I mentally prayed I had killed him, and bawled at the top of my voice for Hawkson and Gull to come below. I might just as well have saved my breath, for not a sound could reach the main-deck, where they would evidently be at that time of day. I tried to ease my ear a bit by pressing my shoulder against the wound.
After a time that seemed an age, the pain let up a little. I looked at the form upon the deck before me, and saw it move and then rise and again come toward me.
“You old cannibal,” I cried, “if ever I get clear of these irons, I’ll cut you to ribbons for this.”
“If ever you do, you may,” he hissed. “How would you like to shake hands on that.” And he seized my irons behind my back, keeping to one side from my kicks, and he twisted until I almost fainted with agony. I roared and bawled and struggled, but to no purpose. I could not shake the horrible old creature off. Just when I thought I could stand the pain no longer, and I verily believe 143the fiend intended to kill me, the hatch was opened, and the carpenter came down the ladder with an armful of chains.
Instantly Watkins sprang away and disappeared, leaving me calling for the fellow Jorg to lend me a hand and keep the rascal off.
Jorg came stolidly below, and began shackling his chains to the ring-bolts, paying no more attention to me than to a man raving in delirium. He looked at me curiously and shook his head.
“Youse’ll get over it, friend John, in a day or two,” he said, and went on deck.
While I stood there, sweating in the heat and pain below, expecting the reappearance of the old steward, I heard the windlass at work again, and faint cries as of men straining up the topsails.
Suddenly I recognized Hawkson’s voice near the main-hatch, and a moment later the section was slid aside and he came below.
“Get me out of this!” I roared at him, as he came up. “Get me out, or there’ll be murder aboard.”
“Steady, steady! D’ye expect me to turn ye loose when ye talk of murder? Sink ye, Heywood! what’s come over ye, anyways?”
“If you’re the man you claim to be,” I said, hotly, “turn my hands loose, and stand before me for ten minutes. Only ten minutes, Hawkson, and, if I don’t kill you, you may eat me alive. You may choose any weapon, and I’ll take my bare--”
“Tut, tut, what kind o’ hysteria is this? What’d 145I want t’eat ye alive for? Sink ye for a crazy boy! who’d eat a tough youngster like you, boy? What--well--oh, ho!”
He had come close to me, and had noticed my ear. Then he chuckled in his quiet way, his ugly face working with amusement.
“Yes,” I said, “that’s the old steward’s doings, and he’ll probably come back to finish me.”
“Well, well, oh, ho, ho!” he laughed. “Didn’t I tell you the old fellow would try his hand on you? But it’s a trifle; stand clear.”
Here he loosened the irons, and I stood forth, rubbing my sore wrists that were now partly paralyzed by being held so long.
“It’s all right. Go up on deck and lend a hand, as soon as you get your head cleared up. Mind ye, now, it was a rat that bit ye, understand? Don’t make any more trouble. If ye want to kill the steward, do it some other time. I had hard work savin’ ye, an’ I don’t want any more trouble.”
I went forward, and, after bathing my sore ear, I went on deck in time to see the last of Nassau.
The sun was shining brightly and the air was hot, but the trade-wind was fresh, and we went to sea at a rapid rate under royals. Bill asked me where I had been, and Martin stopped me to make some remark of the wild day before, but neither appeared to know what had happened, save that 146every one had gotten very drunk. Tim was not aboard, and I never saw him again. He had disappeared, and nothing but his broken irons were left to tell of his departure. The bos’n, however, was on watch, and he spoke vaguely afterward about a small boat coming alongside with a woman in it. Just what part Richards had played in the game, it was, of course, impossible to find out, but before long I knew that Tim and his family had made a voyage across the Florida channel in a small boat, and had probably succeeded in evading pursuit. No further notice of the affair was taken by the officers aft for reasons better known to themselves, and Renshaw chose to remain ashore, taking no further interest in the enterprise.
It was now evident that we had started on our voyage for blacks, and that escape from the barque was impossible. I was angry enough, but remembered that desertion merited some roughness, and, upon the whole, I had been pretty well treated.
Henry gave me a furtive look from his ferret eyes as I passed him on deck. He had done no more than his duty in chasing me, and I, therefore, bore him no malice because he had been successful. It was several days before he would trust himself near me, however, and kept his eyes busy as we went about the vessel attending to our various occupations.
147The day was perfect for navigating the reef, and, as my hands were badly used up, I spent much time forward, watching the shoals and banks, that were distinctly visible under five or six fathoms of water. We could run in this, and at such a depth, with the sun shining, a very small object could be seen upon the coral bottom. Yankee Dan and his daughter were upon the poop with Hicks and Howard. The girl was to go with us as far as St. Helena on our voyage to Africa.
Mr. Gull had volunteered this much information, and the men were somewhat curious in their gaze aft.
The passengers took no notice of this, but spent the afternoon watching the reef or bank, the young girl being much entertained by the various sights upon the bottom.
In the afternoon I went upon the poop to clean the guns and otherwise attend them, and the young lady gave me a nod of recognition. She evidently remembered that shot, for I found out afterward it had cost her father a pretty sum, and for a time it looked as if there would be no slaver cleared at Nassau.
The governor, however, compromised on a handsome fee for damages, as the shot had plunged clear through his parlour, leaving only a small hole in both walls to mark its passage. How much of 148this fee found its way into Howard’s pocket, it was hard to determine, but he evidently was not forgotten. The affair was not alluded to again except among the men.
Hicks scowled at me, but said nothing, and then I kept close watch upon him, as he appeared to still bear me some malice for having been present at Renshaw’s mishap. He was a bold and unscrupulous rascal, and would have taken a lively interest in my jump over-side, had they insisted on it, with a shot to each foot. His manner toward the young girl irritated me also, for, while I’m far from being a priest, yet there is a certain respect for young women every honest sailor has, and which was apparently entirely absent in this man’s manner. They were evidently talking of Renshaw, for I heard Hicks mention his name sadly in connection with the dishonourable affair at the card-table that had caused his abandonment by people of his own class.
“I see,” said Miss Allen, “cheating over a game of cards is highly wrong, but cheating a man out of his wife’s affections is highly commendable. A strange code of morals you Englishmen have. In your class, perhaps, the money is more valuable. Is that it?”
“Whatever his sins were, let us not judge them,” said Hicks. “As for the class you speak of, I can 149only answer that a wife’s affections are valued by most men according to the wife. Don’t you think a woman has pretty much the same gauge to measure by?” And, as he spoke, he leaned toward her, looking her straight in the eyes until she flushed crimson.
“I have broken all of the ten commandments for women,” said Hicks, slowly, still keeping his gaze fixed upon her, “and I would break them all gladly for the woman I love.”
“A self-confessed saint!” she answered, somewhat uneasily.
“Well, slaving is not the least of my ambitions,” said he, carelessly. “Perhaps you think there is nothing in running a cargo of blacks? It may be there’s little, but, if we were overhauled with your father aboard and a crowd below, even ‘trading’ would not appear an innocent occupation.”
“I know it, but what can I do? Do you suppose I think everything that papa does is right?”
“I would hardly accuse you of such lack of judgment,” said Hicks, laughing and glancing at Howard and her father in conversation near the break of the poop.
“But because papa does strange things, you needn’t think I believe they are good,” she said, with some feeling. “As for slavery, it’s only wrong in the abstract. How could the poor blacks look 150out for themselves? They must be taken care of. What on earth would we do without servants?”
“I was not trying to convince you that you were a desperate pirate,” said Hicks, still laughing. “Only to show you what a saint had the pleasure of talking to you. When you have lived with me a time, you’ll realize it better--”
“When what?” she exclaimed.
“When we’ve been married a few seasons, you’ll--”
“When is a good word,” she said, angrily. “How dare you speak to me like that, Sir John!”
“I dare much more,” he answered, quietly, his handsome face setting into an expression of grim determination, “but this is hardly the place to declare it.”
I thought it was about time for me to leave that vicinity, and I strapped the vent-cover on the gun I was attending to ostentatiously, and started forward. Hicks never gave me even a passing glance, but, as I went forward, I heard steps sounding upon the companionway aft, and, turning for a moment, I beheld the head and shoulders of Mr. Curtis emerging from the cabin. He looked a moment at Hicks and the girl, and then went over to where they stood, near the taffrail, while I joined the watch on the main-deck.
As I went down the lee steps, I caught a glimpse 151of Watkins in the cabin, making a grimace I could hardly fail to understand. He was out of reach, and I could only stop and curse him, until Mr. Gull came out and asked me what was the matter. Then I turned and lent Bill and Martin a hand at the weather main-brace, for we had gotten well clear of the bank, and were running off to the westward on our course for the other side.
I now come to that part of the narrative which deals with the turning-point of our luck on this cruise.
Since Renshaw’s leaving left much of the influence to be desired out of the enterprise, Mr. Curtis began to feel anxious about his responsibility in the matter. It is true the gentleman was an outcast from his own people, but he was a nobleman, for all that, and the governor of New Providence would be much influenced by him. It might be necessary to have a friend at hand in case something unpleasant turned up, especially as the laws governing slaves were becoming more and more strict.
The bos’n was suspected in having aided Tim to escape from the barque. At any rate, he was responsible for him. He was an American also, and often when the seaman would come upon the poop, Curtis would find some harsh word to say to him. Afterward he would complain to Howard 153so bitterly at the bos’n’s insolence that the old captain began to experience some of the landsman’s bad temper.
The discipline of the ship had been good, save for the incidents of the run on the beach. Now the real cruise had begun and there was no more chance for desertion, the strictest laws of a war-ship were easy in comparison to those enforced.
This put much work upon Richards, and began to make unnecessary friction between him and the men. Between the hard feeling caused by Curtis aft, and the steady grumbling of such men as Martin and some of his followers forward, the bos’n began to have an unpleasant time of it, and a most desperate affray was averted on several occasions only by his steadiness and coolness of temper.
One day the bos’n was called to attend to some repairs on the wheel-ropes.
Mr. Curtis saw him, and either inadvertently or deliberately jostled him as he came along the poop. Hawkson saw the affair, and hastened to avert trouble, but was too late. Curtis very foolishly kicked the bos’n savagely and swore at him before all the men of the watch on deck. Richards, true to his creed, lashed out most vigorously, and knocked the landsman half-way across the deck before Hawkson caught him. It was only Hawkson’s steadiness of purpose that prevented a general mix-up on 154board, for Curtis insisted upon the sailor being flogged. Richards swore he would kill the man who laid hands on him, and, as he had several friends forward, including myself, who would have stood by him, and as he had the chief officer aft, there was a deal of trouble before anything like order prevailed. When the outfly was patched up by Yankee Dan and Sir John, who saw the danger of such affairs, there was no longer anything like smoothness again. The bos’n never attempted to give an order, and went about his duties with a set smile, which I tried to fathom on several occasions and received a cold silence for my pains. Then I knew trouble was coming, and prepared for it, caring little, however, just when and in what shape it would appear.
For a day or two we dragged slowly over the blue water. The royals would pull a bit in the light air, but our wake was not a long one.
On the third day, I was cleaning the forward gun to windward, gazing over the beautiful calm water. To the southward the deepening blue of the sky seemed to show in peculiar contrast to the ocean, and, while I gazed over the vast distance, the water streaked and darkened under the light draughts. The royals came to the masts every now and then, when the breeze died almost entirely, and 155flapped gently, coming full again as the barque swung herself to windward on the swell.
Miss Allen was on the poop with Mr. Curtis, and that saturnine young man, Hicks, was standing aft gazing at them with an expression far from pleasant upon his handsome face.
I became aware of a low, vibrant, wailing murmur coming out of the sunlit void to the south’ard. It was like the cry I had heard before and had had such an effect upon poor Tim.
Yankee Dan’s daughter evidently heard it, for she straightened up and listened, gazing steadily to windward. As the cry rose and fell, dying away as the breeze increased, it thrilled me through and through.
“What’s the matter?” asked Henry, who had come up and noticed my intense look.
“Don’t you hear it?” I asked.
“S’pose Hi do; it’s nothin’. Have ye cooled off?”
It was the first time he had spoken directly to me since the affair with the hounds, and I took it for an overture of friendship.
“If you squeeze my hand, I’ll brain you,” I said, and held it out. He took it, smiling.
“What made ye bolt, anyways?” he asked. “Hi could git ye anywheres on that island. Hi had to pay fer that dog ye killed, too.”
156He seated himself beside me, as it was nearly eight bells, and we talked a few minutes, he describing the amusement caused by the two hounds loosed into the room of Thunderbo’s dance-hall.
“’Twas a fine sight, Heywood, to see that bloodhound grab the conch by the heel. If Hi hadn’t stopped there to laugh it out, Hi wud ha’ bust wide open. There he was hanging out the window, with Jones a-pullin’ one way an’ the dog the other, while the Doctor whanged him over the buttocks as they stretched ’im over the sill.”
I felt little like laughing, although the scene of confusion must have been amusing to an uninterested spectator. Had he taken us sooner, the other affair would not have followed.
“I cud ’a’ taken ye, but Hi had to laugh at that conch,” explained Henry. “What d’yer s’pose makes my fingers so big, anyways?”
“Poking them in other people’s business,” said I.
“An’ that’s a fact,” he answered. “Poking them in other people’s business. Man, I was chief garroter in Havana onct, an’ I ’as strangled more men than there is in this ship. Hi ’av’ been a detective an’ a executioner both. That’s how I know how to handle dogs. Save ye, Heywood, d’ye suppose Hawkson would ’a’ let you fellows loose ashore ef he didn’t know Hi’d bring ye back all standin’, as the sayin’ is?”
157Henry had never appeared prepossessing to me, and now his statement as to his vocation did little to draw him nearer. On the contrary, he noticed my look of disgust and wonder, as I scanned his huge fingers.
“Never mind,” he said, with a grin, “’tain’t likely they’ll be used on you, though Hi closed ’em onct on the old man’s neck when he was taken fer cuttin’ out them Spanish wood-hunters in the Isle o’ Pines. They let him go just in time. Now they use a screw, for there ain’t been a man there since as c’u’d do the trick wid his fingers,--an’ old Howard insisted that Hi must stick to him for a lucky boy.”
While he talked, I noticed the barque gave a sudden heave of much greater inclination than usual. She seemed to take a new motion, as though a swell from the westward had rolled up against the trade swell. I looked over the side, and noticed a long heave to the sea setting at a sharp angle to the slight rise and fall we had been riding. Henry saw it also, and gazed to the south’ard.
Far away on the horizon a dim haziness seemed forming in the otherwise cloudless sky. I looked aft in time to see Howard come up the companion and gaze around the horizon. Then he said something to Hawkson, who had also appeared, and the old mate came to the break of the poop.
158“Take in them royals,” he called to the watch on deck, and the men, who were expecting to hear eight bells struck and dinner announced, had a job. Henry sprang up and went aft.
“T’gallants’ls,” said Hawkson, laconically.
I pulled on the gun-cover, and had already gotten it fast when the order came to clew up the mainsail. Then, as I had to go aloft with the rest, I joined Bill and Ernest in the weather main-rigging.
“Fallin’ glass,” said Bill. “I youst heard the mate tell Henry. Ole Richards looks worried. Didn’t think he’d take that interest, hey?”
We rolled the sail up in short order, keeping an eye on the poop, where Howard was now squinting away at the sun with his sextant.
“Eight bells,” came his hoarse croak, and a Norwegian struck them off loudly.
“Roll up the spanker an’ foresail,” came the order, and, instead of getting dinner, the watch turned out with the rest, and all hands were kept busy. Then came the topsails, and finally we reefed the fore and main topsails, the barque rolling log-wise in a very uneasy roll that came quickly from the south’ard.
It was one bell before we were allowed on deck, and then, all tired and hot, we scattered for cool places to eat the deferred meal.
Hardly had we finished than a cool, clammy mist 159spread itself over the ocean, and a good breeze began blowing from the north’ard. The sun appeared like a copper ball, and as it dimmed the breeze increased. The swell now began running with a tremendous heave from the southwest, and the barque rolled her channels under. All hands were kept on deck.
The black Doctor had just gathered the last of the forecastle truck into the galley, where the little Dane, Johnson, was allowed to clean them up, when we heard a deep moaning to the south’ard. The bank of the mist seemed to grow thicker. Then, with a slow rising, droning roar, the hurricane struck the barque and laid her over on her side until her lee dead-eyes were a foot below the sea.
How Miss Allen and Curtis climbed down off the poop, I could never guess. The deep notes of the wind rushing through the rigging drowned all sound save the cries of Hawkson and Gull, who, hanging on to the poop-rail, bawled for the men to man the braces and get the ship hove to.
It struck us full upon the quarter, and nothing had carried away, although the straining strips of canvas aloft seemed marvellously strong to withstand that furious outfly. The sea was as white as a coral bank, looking as though covered with a finely drifting snow, as the wind swept the top of the ocean level and drove the foam before it.
160We were under the shortest canvas, and were trying to get her on the wind before the sea made, as it was sure to make, in a few minutes.
As we tailed on to the topsail-brace, I caught a glimpse of Richards and Yankee Dan rolling the wheel over, although the deck was as steep as the ship’s sides. Slowly the old barque righted herself, as she headed up within four points of it, scooping her main-deck full of water, some of which found its way below, as the main-hatch had not been battened or caulked, and the flood rolled over it waist-deep. Had we been taken aback, the topmasts would surely have gone overboard in that blast, for it was impossible to realize its tremendous power.
I could hear the captain’s hoarse croak from near the mizzen, sounding faintly in the roar about us, and I caught the look of Big Jones’s face as he raised it over the rail and brought it back streaming with the flying drift and gasping for breath. Then we belayed the line, and started to get all yards sharp on the starboard tack.
It was desperate work, but it was finished at last, and, by the time we had a chance to breathe and look about us, the barque was riding into such a sea as seldom runs in the western ocean, her topsails hanging in short ribbons from the jack-stays, and a gale thundering through her rigging that bid fair 161to drive her under by the sheer weight of the wind in it.
There was no steady blow. Sometimes the roar aloft would die down for a few minutes, and it would seem as if the weight of it had passed. Then would come a squall, snoring and roaring, rising up into a wild chaos of sound that was almost deafening, and the barque would be laid upon her side for several minutes as it tore past.
Jorg, with the pluck and perseverance of his race, worked desperately at the hatches to get them battened down firmly. Henry and I managed to get a large timber over the canvas cover, and, lashing one end fast to the ring-bolt on one side, we hove down with it until we could get Richards, Bill, Jones, and the rest to pass a lashing, heaving the lever over as tight as our combined weight could make it go. I saw Hawkson waving his hand, and crawled to him along the pin-rail.
“Go aft to the wheel,” he roared in my ear, and I climbed the poop.
As I crawled up the lee steps of the poop of The Gentle Hand, I began to believe it was blowing. I could not possibly stand before that blast. Holding to the poop-rail, I worked aft and relieved Yankee Dan, who had helped the man already there by taking the spokes to windward.
All about the barque were the lowering banks of scud, darkening the ocean now almost to night, and flying with the rapidity of the wind. Above was the deep gray of the heavy pall of vapour.
I glanced into the binnacle and noticed that the wind had already shifted, although it had been blowing less than an hour. It had become more and more squally, and the blasts roared down upon the barque with incredible force. The sea was ugly, but instead of the great, rolling sea of the Cape, it was a short, quick mass of water that flung itself with appalling force. High as she was, The Gentle Hand took them now and again over the topgallant-rail, 163and flooded her main-deck waist-deep. Soon her lee bulwarks tore away, letting the flood have full sway across and overboard. This eased her a trifle, and we strove to nurse her closer to the wind, although, without canvas, the wheel would have been as well lashed hard down.
For three hours more she headed up beautifully, although sometimes the blasts would take her to leeward and whirl her head up into the sea. Then another would strike her full, and off she would swing almost into the trough, while Hawkson and the rest would struggle to get a cloth against the weather mizzen ratlines.
Suddenly, after one wild, snoring rush of warm wind, it fell dead calm. The sea was leaping wildly, bursting over our bow one moment, and then the next piling in amidships with a crash that tested the strength of the old hull. She would seem to settle under the load, and once there was nothing visible forward of the break of the poop save the end of her t’gallant forecastle. The men had to lay aft and keep alive.
While the calm moments lasted, the air was oppressively warm, and I noticed Hicks come from behind the shelter of the spanker-boom and coolly light his pipe, although the barque was rolling and plunging so heavily it was hard to see how he kept his feet without holding on. He made his way aft 164just as Mr. Curtis emerged from the companion, followed by Miss Allen.
The barque was plunging wildly, and I had all I could do to hold the wheel-spokes. Suddenly I heard a cry from forward. Captain Howard stood clear of the mizzen for a moment and pointed aft. Over the starboard quarter a huge sea rose like a wall, then topped into a snoring comber, and flung with the rush of an avalanche over the poop. The dull, thunderous crash drowned all sound, and the same instant I felt myself being torn from the wheel by the flood. Then I went under, still holding on with all my strength to the spokes, but feeling them dragged from my hands by the prodigious power washing me away.
When I came to my senses, I was lying against the rise of the poop, where I had brought up doubled over, my body on top and my legs hanging in the swirl that rolled over to leeward. There was no one at the wheel. The Norwegian had gone overboard, and, as he had probably struck heavily against the spokes, he was doubtless killed outright.
I crawled back, gasping and driving the brine from my face. Then I remembered Miss Allen and her lover, Mr. Curtis, and looked for them.
In the boiling foam of the side-wash a few fathoms from the side, the girl’s head, with her hair 165floating in tangles, showed above the white. She was apparently swimming, though feebly, for she must have been hurled far below in the cataract that poured to leeward. Near her was Mr. Curtis, his eyes staring at the ship and his face expressing surprise and anxiety. He struck out for the barque, and did not help the girl near him, or, in fact, give her any attention until he had grasped the lee mizzen channels as the vessel rolled down. Here he drew himself up, and started to coil a line trailing overboard to throw to her. I started to the side, letting go the wheel, but before I reached the rail, I saw a form plunge from the mizzen sheer-pole, and in an instant Hicks rose to the surface almost alongside the young lady. It was boldly done, and I caught the expression in his eyes as he seized her by the shoulder and turned toward the ship.
Hawkson was bawling out something, and I turned in time to feel the first puff of a squall that came snoring down upon us with a rush that made every line sing to the strain. In an instant the barque was laying over to it, and as it struck her abaft the beam she started ahead.
Hicks was now alongside, and Curtis, aided by Yankee Dan, was helping the young girl on deck. It was a remarkable occurrence, happening as it did in the centre of that hurricane, when the barque was becalmed and without any headway. Otherwise 166it would have been a certain death for any one going over the side. In less than five minutes the gale was blowing as hard as ever from an almost opposite point of the compass, the squalls coming with appalling force, sending us a good fifteen knots an hour, with nothing but the bare yards aloft to receive the pressure.
Two men came aft to relieve the wheel, which I had rolled up with Mr. Gull’s help, and I had a few minutes’ breathing space as we tore along, the men forward trimming in the braces and squaring the yards for a run before it.
Hicks stood upon the poop near the mizzen, where he had climbed up, and he gazed after Curtis, who, with Yankee Dan, half-dragged and half-carried Miss Allen below. There was a strange look in his eyes, and I saw him cursing in a sinister manner, though what he said was lost in the uproar. Then he joined the captain at the break of the poop, where the old man had remained, having escaped the flood by springing with the rest upon the spanker-boom.
Sir John Hicks was a thorough rascal, according to report, but somehow he showed up very well with Mr. Curtis, who had been a well-known churchman and piously inclined even to the time he had bought his interest in The Gentle Hand.
As for the grim old villain in command, he made 167no comment, but stood watching his ship without a trace of anxiety upon his mask-like countenance. Even as I watched him, he was calculating the time to swing her up on the port tack to keep afloat in that cross-sea, before which no vessel could run very long.
I could hardly help thinking then that so much nervous strength and control must have a limit sometime. The old fellow had been through a good deal, and certainly must have used up much of his giant energy in earlier trials. I wondered vaguely for a few moments when the time would come when his stoical indifference and cruelty would be used up and he become a debtor to nature. How would the old man die? Would he be inscrutable and implacable to the last? It would be a matter of physical force with him, and he appeared pretty tough yet, ready for many a rough fracas, and afraid of nothing.
Yet I doubted whether his courage was any finer than some others who were less reckless and held responsibility as something of value. He finally gave the order to Hawkson, and the deep voice of the mate sounded above the booming, sonorous roar overhead. A heavy tarpaulin was lashed in the mizzen-rigging on the outside, so that the shrouds might make a solid background to hold it against 168the blast. It was an old hatch-cover, but of heavier cloth than our topsail.
The wheel was rolled hard down just as a heavy squall showed signs of slacking, and a comparative smooth space showed to windward. The old barque came quickly into the trough, and, as she did so, the full force of the hurricane could be felt. Over and over she went until her lee rail disappeared beneath the foam, while above her towered a sea that bade fair to drive her under as it fell aboard. She lay perfectly on end for an instant, the deck being absolutely perpendicular, and her yard-arm beneath the swirl to leeward, and the weight of that rolling hill broke clear across, the larger part of it landing in the sea to starboard.
The shock was terrific. Both fore and main topmasts went out of her and trailed alongside in the smother. There was no sound save the thundering crash of the water, but as soon as the men who had saved themselves could move from their places, we tried to save the ship. Hawkson, Gull, Henry, Richards, Jones, Martin, and the rest made their way forward by holding to the pin-rail, and we cut to clear away the foretopmast alongside. All the time the barque was on end, her hatches under water, and the wild, booming snore of the hurricane roaring over her, sending cataracts of water over her t’gallant-rail. By desperate work we led the wreckage 169forward, and towed it by a heavy line from the port cat-head. This finally had the effect, together with the tarpaulin aft, of pulling her head into the sea, and after a quarter of an hour, every minute of which I expected to see her go under, she began to right herself.
Too exhausted to speak and half-drowned by the seas, we hung on under the shelter of the forecastle until she once more rode safely into it. I looked into the streaming faces of the men, and wondered how many had gone to leeward that day, and then it seemed to me that slaving for wealth might not be any better than I had originally held it to be. Aloft in that gray pall the scud were whirling past, and I found myself thinking of Tim and the cry of the South Sea. A sailor is apt to get superstitious even without reason, and it struck me that there would be little luck aboard the old pirate on this cruise.
When we had a chance to leave, we found that one dago and the little Dane had disappeared from among us, and, as the gale wore down toward evening, there was a sorry picture of a black barque riding the quick sea of the western ocean, her rigging hanging and trailing to leeward from the stumps of her topmasts, and a half-drowned crew holding on to anything they could.
Before morning the hurricane had passed, and 170we were again heading off across the ocean, with a badly wrecked ship and an ugly, demoralized set of men, cursing their luck, the ship, and especially her officers in a manner that spoke of trouble ahead.
The days following that storm were full of labour for all on board the barque. Rigging a jury maintopmast, and securing the yards that had remained fast to the line ahead, and which had acted as a sea anchor or drag and thereby saved us, we made the best of our way to Madeira. The voyage was uneventful and long, owing to our wrecked condition, but it ended at last.
During the days of toil the temper of the men grew worse, and at one time Martin and Anderson began to talk pretty freely in the watch below. Howard tied the Scandinavian up in the rigging, and was about to use even more severe methods, but Hawkson and Hicks prevailed. He was apprised of the murmurings forward by his steward, Watkins, who took care he lost very little of what went on.
Hawkson and Hicks, backed by Mr. Gull and Henry, however, knew that to precipitate trouble 172would ruin whatever prospects the voyage still held, and they made it plain to the trader that his influence was also necessary to curb the captain’s temper. Together they held him in check, and we made harbour without coming to desperate measures.
The behaviour of Mr. Curtis after the storm was most peculiar. He prayed very often, and seemed to develop a most pious disposition. This went to the extent of asking permission to have the men mustered on Sundays, so that by standing on the break of the poop he could address and harangue them upon religious matters.
The idea tickled Howard so keenly that he not only agreed to it, but insisted that it should happen twice a week until the men were in better temper. It was being enforced when the towering sides of Pico Ruivo rose above the eastern horizon.
Miss Allen had not been especially impressed by these harangues, and this day joined Hicks upon the poop, while the affair took place. Hicks had been below, but had appeared forward talking confidentially to Martin, and had passed a package which the brawny Scot had taken below very hurriedly just as all hands mustered. When Hicks reached the poop, coming up the cabin companion, we were already standing under the break, lounging in various attitudes of inattention.
I hardly remember what Mr. Curtis said on this 173occasion, but he pointed to the distant mountains and waxed very eloquent. We had seen this land before, but he had not.
“It is the prayers of us poor sinners,” said he, stretching forth his hand, “that has at last saved our barque from storm and calm. We are poor, weak mortals, and must ask for help.”
“Who calls er mon like me er weak mortil, hey?” came a voice from the crowd, and there stood Martin, the empty bottle in hand, his eyes shifty and dangerous.
“I’m a true Christian man, d’ye ken that, an’ if ye dare say I be ither, I’ll wallop ye like er babe.”
Curtis was off the poop in an instant, and there was a mix-up that promised much in the way of diversion, for whatever our preacher lacked, it was not a quick temper. He seized the tipsy Scot by the hair with both hands, and, in spite of the hoots and wallops he received, was making a very fair job of him when Jones and Henry separated them.
Howard stood on the poop and cackled away, enjoying the scene, refusing to do anything to Martin unless Curtis ordered it. This the younger man’s vanity would not permit, and upon the whole it was just as well, for it made the feeling a little less uncomfortable forward, which was a good thing for a vessel going into a harbour where crews might be scarce.
174There was some hesitancy on Hawkson’s part about going in with such a large crew, for trading-vessels generally were not heavily manned. It might create enough comment to attract the attention of a man-of-war, and even though our papers might be fixed satisfactorily, a boarding of the barque would be hazardous to a slaving enterprise. At all events, it was decided that Mr. Gull should take a boat’s crew and land upon the Desertas, the rocks about a dozen miles to the southward. Here they would kill as many wild goats and hogs as they could, and await the barque’s signal before venturing in, bucanning the meat for the voyage back.
We soon anchored in the open roadstead not very far from the beach. The town of Funchal lay before us to the north’ard, its terraces and vineyards rising from the water up the steep sides of the mountains. A very pretty place it was, and in a short time the captain’s gig was called away to take him ashore. Richards silently brought the boat to the ladder, and sat stiff and motionless, a regular man-o’-war cockswain. The whole after-guard, except Henry and Watkins, clambered into the boat, Yankee Dan and his daughter accompanied by Hicks and Curtis.
The old trader had been somewhat subdued in spirits during the latter part of the trip across, owing to our loss of gear and the leaky condition of the 175vessel. Now he spoke with his usual spirits, which rose as the distance between him and the shore lessened.
“Sink me!” said he, “if I don’t try to show these dagoes how to drive a trade for them topmasts.”
“I wouldn’t, if you intend staying ashore,” said Hicks.
“Will I stay ashore?” said Miss Allen.
“Until we can ship you to the Continent,” said her father. “It won’t be long before we put you and Curtis aboard some ship for Havre. Then you’ll both be safe.”
I had realized before this that Mr. Curtis was looked to as the fowl who was laying the golden egg for the enterprise, while Dan was to do the trading. His daughter was the principal tie between them, and she was, doubtless, the innocent lever the trader had used to get the younger man interested in slaving. It looked as if there would soon be a marriage.
The girl had nodded to me as I took the stroke oar, and I will admit I felt interested in her future. Whatever Sir John Hicks felt, he kept it well to himself, for he joined the conversation right merrily, although his behaviour toward Mr. Curtis was unnecessarily polite. We rowed swiftly over the swell of the blue roadstead, and ran the boat’s nose 176upon the sand, the light surf splashing into the stern-sheets just enough to cause some scrambling for dry places. Then the boat was surrounded by natives, who plunged into the water regardless of their white breeches, and offered to carry the passengers ashore.
Jones and myself, however, placed a short board for Miss Allen to sit upon, and then raised it to the height of our shoulders with her upon it, bearing her aloft, while she gave a bit of a scream and fastened her fingers in our hair for support. Then we strode ashore to the dry beach above high water, with small regard for the scowling dagoes who failed to earn their silver.
The rest were so busily engaged in getting ashore dry that they failed to note that I seized the little hand upon my head and kissed it fervently, much to Big Jones’s delight and the young lady’s embarrassment.
“You know what they’d do to you if they knew you were so rude,” said she, flushing.
“I’ve risked death for less pleasure,” said I, touching my forehead.
“Then the fool-killer surely was not in the neighbourhood. You forget your position,” said she, haughtily.
“I was a mate once,” I answered.
“Well, you’re not now. If it were not that Sir 177John--I mean, Mr. Curtis would kill you, I should report your insolence.”
“’Tis a small deed to die for,” said I, “and, if I must go, perhaps I had better make my end doubly certain--”
At this moment Yankee Dan’s voice called, and I turned in time to see him approaching.
Jones, who had walked toward the boat, glanced back uneasily at me, but I touched my forelock, having no cap, and left Miss Allen. The big Welshman did not hear all of our conversation, but, lest he retail part of it to the men, I took the trouble to make it plain to him that such a trick would be reckoned as a great discourtesy to the lady and myself, and that a necessary settlement would therefore take place. Jones, in spite of his size, was a man of keen discernment and not without discretion. He was silent.
As the island was well wooded with fine large trees, it was but a short time before we had our topmasts on the beach ready to take aboard and set up. Jorg took charge of the spars, and we floated them alongside and hoisted them on deck, where he at once set to work upon them. Much of the ironwork from the wreck we had saved, and this shortened the job very considerably. Within a week from the day we dropped anchor, gant-lines were rigged and the new spars sent aloft. 178The backstays were then set up and the t’gallant-masts were sent up, one of these having been saved from the wreck and the other cut ashore.
The work of rigging kept all hands busy day and night, so we saw little of the town of Funchal. We went ashore once to buy a second-hand suit of t’gallantsails and royals, which were to be used as good weather canvas, and have an old maintop-sail recut, but there was little time even for sampling the wines I had heard so much about.
While we lay there, a large American brig came in and anchored near us.
She was evidently a trader by her look, and by her build and rig she appeared very fast and rakish. She flew the American ensign, and I was interested in her. As soon as we had a little respite from rigging, I asked permission to visit the stranger, and, to my surprise, it was granted. Neither Hawkson nor Howard appeared the least interested in the vessel, and had neither received a visit from her captain nor made a visit to him. When Bill, Ernest, Martin, and myself took the small boat that evening and started over to her, Hawkson called me aside.
“Take a peep below hatches if ye get the chance, and see what sort o’ guns she carries. Maybe ye’ll care to change ships,” said he, with his ugly smile.
As something of this nature had really been finding 179place in my mind, I suppose I flushed a bit. I had intended to desert, should the brig clear first, for slaving was no more to my taste now than formerly. From Richards’s silent behaviour I felt that I would not have to go alone, and I intended to broach the subject to the bos’n that very night.
“All right,” I answered, with a sinking of spirits I tried to conceal. “I’ll search her if I get the chance.”
What Hawkson meant was evident as soon as we came within a half-mile of her to leeward. A most horrible odour, peculiar and penetrating, seemed to come from her. I had never known it before, but Bill stopped rowing at once and turned toward her.
“Niggers,” said he, spitting in disgust.
“Aboard of her?” I asked.
“Not youst now, maybe, but she’s been full of niggers more’n once. There’s youst a smell left behind, and it never leaves.”