PIKES, CUTLASSES, AND GUNS
As I hastily poured powder into the pan of my musket, a man sprang to our
deck and dashed at Davie Paine, who thrust out a pike and impaled him as if
he were a fowl on a spit, then reached for a musket. Another came and
another; I saw them leap down singly. One of our new men whom we had signed
at Canton raised his cutlass and sliced down the third man to board us;
then they came on in an overwhelming stream.
Seeing that it would be suicide to attempt to maintain our ground, and that
we already were cut off from the party on the quarter-deck, we retreated
forward, fighting off the enemy as we went, and ten or a dozen of us took
our stand on the forecastle.
Kipping and Falk and the beach-combers they had gathered together had
conducted their campaign well. Some half of us were forward, half aft, so
that we could not fire on the boarders without danger of hitting our own
men. Davie Paine clubbed his musket and felled a strange white man, and
Neddie Benson went down with a bullet through his thigh; then the pirates
surged forward and almost around us. Before we realized what was happening,
we had been forced back away from Neddie and had retreated to the
knightheads. We saw a beast of a yellow ruffian stab Neddie with a kris,
then one of our own men saw a chance to dart back under the very feet of
our enemies and lay hold of Neddie's collar and drag him groaning up to us.
They came at us hotly, and we fought them off with pikes and cutlasses; but
we were breathing hard now and our arms ached and our feet slipped. The
circle of steel blades was steadily drawing closer.
That the end of our voyage had come, I was convinced, but I truly was not
afraid to die. It was no credit to me; simply in the heat of action I found
no time for fear. Parry and slash! Slash and parry! Blood was in my eyes. A
cut burned across my right hand. My musket had fallen underfoot and I
wielded a rusty blade that some one else had dropped. Fortunately the flesh
wound I got from the musket-ball in our other battle had healed cleanly,
and no lameness handicapped me.
We had no idea what was going on aft, and for my own part I supposed that
Roger and the rest were in straits as sore as our own; but suddenly a
tremendous report almost deafened us, and when our opponents turned to see
what had happened we got an instant's breathing-space.
"It's the stern-chasers," Davie gasped. "They've faced 'em round!"
The light of a torch flared up and I saw shadowy shapes darting this way
and that.
There were two cannon; but only one shot had been fired.
Suddenly Davie seized me by the shoulder. "See! See there!" he cried
hoarsely in my ear.
I turned and followed his finger with my eyes. High on the stern of the
junk, black against the starlit sky, I saw the unmistakable figure of
Kipping. He was laughing--mildly. The outline of his body and the posture
and motion of his head and shoulders all showed it. Then he leaped to the
deck and we lost sight of him. Where he had mustered that horde of
slant-eyed pirates, we never stopped to wonder. We had no time for idle
questions.
I know that I, for one, finding time during the lull in the fighting to
appraise our chances, expected to die there and then. A vastly greater
force was attacking us, and we were divided as well as outnumbered. But if
we were to die, we were determined to die fighting; so with our backs to
the bulwark and with whatever weapons we had been able to snatch up in our
hands, we defended ourselves as best we could and had no more respite to
think of what was going on aft.
Only one stern gun, you remember, had been fired. Now the second spoke.
There was a yell of anguish as the ball cut through the midst of the
pirates, a tremendous crash that followed almost instantly the report of
the cannon, a sort of brooding hush, then a thunderous reverberation
compared with which all other noises of the night had been as nothing.
Tongues of flame sprang skyward and a ghastly light shot far out on the
sea. The junk heaved back, settled, turned slowly over and seemed to spread
out into a great mass of wreckage. Pieces of timber and plank and spar came
tumbling down and a few men scrambled to our decks. We could hear others
crying out in the water, as they swam here and there or grasped at planks
and beams to keep themselves afloat.
The cannon ball had penetrated the side of the junk and had exploded a
great store of gunpowder.
Part of the wreckage of the junk was burning, and the flames threw a red
glare over the strange scene aboard the ship, where the odds had been so
suddenly altered. Our assailants, who but a moment before had had us at
their mercy, now were confounded by the terrific blow they had received;
instead of fighting the more bravely because no retreat was left them, they
were confused and did not know which way to turn.
Davie Paine, sometimes so slow-witted, seemed now to grasp the situation
with extraordinary quickness. "Come on, lads," he bellowed, "we've got 'em
by the run."
Again clubbing his musket, he leaped into the gangway so ferociously that
the pirates scrambled over the side, brown men and white, preferring to
take their chances in the sea. As he charged on, I lost sight of him in the
maelstrom of struggling figures. On my left a Lascar was fighting for his
life against one of our new crew. On every side men were splashing and
shouting and cursing.
Now, high above the uproar, I heard a voice, at once familiar and strange.
For a moment I could not place it; it had a wild note that baffled me. Then
I saw black Frank, cleaver in hand, come bounding out of the darkness. His
arms and legs, like the legs of some huge tarantula, flew out at all angles
as he ran, and in fierce gutturals he was yelling over and over again:--
"Whar's dat Kipping?"
He peered this way and that.
"Whar's dat Kipping?"
Out of the corner of my eye I saw some one stir by the deck-house, and the
negro, seeing him at the same moment, leaped at my own conclusion.
In doubt whither to flee, too much of a coward at heart either to throw
himself overboard or to face his enemy if there was any chance of escape,
the unhappy Kipping hesitated one second too long. With a mighty lunge the
negro caught him by the throat, and for a moment the two swayed back and
forth in the open space between us and our enemies.
I thought of the night when they had fought together in the galley door.
Momentarily Kipping seemed actually to hold his own against the mad negro;
but his strength was of despair and almost at once we saw that it was
failing.
"Stop!" Kipping cried. "I'll yield! Stop--stop! Don't kill me!"
For a moment the negro hesitated. He seemed bewildered; his very passion
seemed to waver. Then I saw that Kipping, all the while holding the negro's
wrist with his left hand, was fumbling for his sheath-knife with his right.
With basest treachery he was about to knife his assailant at the very
instant when he himself was crying for quarter. My shout of warning was
lost in the general uproar; but the negro, though taken off his guard, had
himself perceived Kipping's intentions.
By a sudden jerk he shook Kipping's hand off his wrist and raised high his
sharp weapon.
From the shadow of the deck-house one of Kipping's own adherents sprang to
his rescue, but Davie Paine--blundering old Davie!--knocked him flat.
For an instant the cook's weapon shone bright in the glare of the torches.
Kipping snatched vainly at the black wrist above him, then jerked his knife
clean out of the sheath--but too late.
"Ah got you now, you pow'ful fighter, you! Ah got you now, you dirty scut!"
the cook yelled, and with one blow of his cleaver he split Kipping's skull
to the chin.
* * * * *
When at last we braced the yards and drew away from the shattered fragments
of the junk, which were drifting out to sea, we found that of the lawless
company that so confidently had expected to murder us all, only five living
men, one of whom was Captain Nathan Falk, were left aboard. They were a
glum and angry little band of prisoners.
Lights and voices ashore indicated that some of our assailants had saved
themselves, and by their cries and confused orders we knew that they in
turn were rescuing others. Of their dead we had no record, but the number
must have been large.
Of us six who had defied Falk in that time long ago, which we had come to
regard almost as ancient history, only Neddie Benson had fallen. Although
we had laughed time and again at the charming plump lady who had prophesied
such terrible events, it had proved in bitter earnest a sad last voyage for
Neddie.
From the low and distant land there continued to come what seemed to be
only faint whispers of sound, yet we knew that they really were the cries
of men fighting for their lives where the sea beat against the shore.
"Ah wonder," said the cook, grimly, "how dem yeh scalliwaggles gwine git
along come Judgment when Gab'el blows his ho'n and Peter rattles his keys
and all de wicked is a-wailin' and a-weepin' and a-gnashin' and can't git
in nohow. Yass, sah. Ah guess dis yeh ol' nigger, he's gwine sit on de
pearly gate and twiddle his toes at 'em."
He folded his arms and stood in the lantern light, with a dreamy expression
on his grotesque face such as I had seen there once or twice before. When
he glanced at me with that strange affection shining from his great eyes,
he seemed like some big, benign dog. Never had I seen a calmer man. It
seemed impossible that passion ever had contorted those homely black
features.
But the others were discussing the fate of our prisoners. I heard Roger
say, "Let me look at them, Mr. Cledd. I'll know them--some of them anyway.
Ah, Captain Falk? And the carpenter? Well, well, well! We hadn't dared hope
for the pleasure of your company on the return voyage. In fact, we'd quite
given it up. I may add that we'd reconciled ourselves to the loss of it."
I now edged toward them, followed by the cook.
"Ay, Mr. Hamlin, it's all very well for you to talk like that," Falk
replied in a trembling voice from which all arrogance had not yet vanished.
"I'm lawful master of this here vessel, as you very well know. You're
nothing but a mutineer and a pirate. Go ahead and kill me! Why don't you?
You know I can tell a story that will send you to the gallows. What have I
done, but try to get back the owners' property and defend it? To think that
I could have knocked you and that addle-pated Ben Lathrop on the head any
day I wished! And I wished it, too, but Kipping he said--"
Falk stopped suddenly.
"So Kipping had a finger in the pie, did he?" said Roger. "Well, Mr. Falk,
what did Kipping say?"
Falk bit his lip sullenly and remained silent.
There really was something pathetic in the man's plight. He had been
ambitious, and ambition alone, which often is a virtue, had gone far to
contribute to his downfall. In many ways he was so weak! A quality that in
other men might have led to almost anything good, in him had bred
resentment and trickery and at last downright crime. He stood there now,
ruined in his profession, the leader of a defeated band of criminals and
vagabonds. Yet if he had succeeded in capturing the ship and putting the
rest of us to death, he could have sailed her home to Salem, and by
spreading his own version of the mutiny have gained great credit, and
probably promotion, for himself.
"Well, Chips," said Roger, "I hope you, at least, are pleased with your
prospects."
The carpenter likewise made no reply.
"Hm, Mr. Cledd, they haven't a great deal to say, have they?"
"Aha," the negro murmured just behind me, "dey's got fine prospec's, dey
has. Dey's gwine dance, dey is, yass, sah, on de end of a rope, and after
dey's done dance a while dey's gwine be leetle che'ubs, dey is, and flap
dey wings and sing sweet on a golden harp. Yass, sah."
The carpenter shot an angry glance at the cook, but no one else paid him
any attention.
A fire was flaming now on the distant shore. The seas rushed and gurgled
along the side of the ship. Our lights dipped with the rigging as the ship
rolled and tossed, now lifting her dripping sides high out of water, now
plunging them again deep into the trough.
"Mr. Cledd, I think we can spare those five men a boat," Roger said, after
a time.
"You're not going to let them go!" Mr. Cledd exclaimed.
"Yes."
Mr. Cledd raised his eyebrows, but silently acceded.
I thought that an expression of relief crossed Falk's face, yet dismay was
mingled with it. Those were dark, inhospitable lands to leeward. The
carpenter opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it without a word, and
vacantly stared at Roger. The rest of us exchanged glances of surprise.
When we had hove to, they lowered the boat, fumbling at the falls while
they did so, as if they were afraid to leave the ship. The seas caught the
boat and bumped it against the side, but Falk still lingered, even when
Roger indicated by a gesture that he was to go.
"Ay," he cried, "it's over the side and away. You're sending us to our
death, Mr. Hamlin."
"To your death?" said Roger. "Sir, do you wish to return with us to Salem?"
Falk glared sullenly, but made no reply.
"Sir," Roger repeated sharply, "do you wish to return with us to Salem?"
Still there was no response.
"Ah, I thought not. Stay here, if you wish. I shall have you put in irons;
I should not be justified in any other course. But in Salem we'll lay our
two stories before the owners--ay, and before the law. Then, sir, if you
are in the right and I am in the wrong, your triumph will repay you many
times over for the discomforts of a few months in irons. No? Will you not
come?"
Still Falk did not reply.
"Sir," Roger sternly cried, "if I were to take you back a prisoner to
Salem, you'd go to the gallows by way of the courts. Here you can steer
your own course--though in all probability the port will be the same."
Without another word Falk went over the side, and down by the chains to the
boat that was bumping below. But before we cast off the painter, he looked
up at us in the light of a lantern that some one held over the bulwark and
cried bitterly, "I hope, Mr. Hamlin, you're satisfied now. I'm rightful
master of that vessel in spite of all your high-handed tricks."
For the first time I noticed the marks of wounds that he had got in the
fight off the island. His face was white and his eyes were at once fierce
and hunted.
"You're mistaken," Roger replied. "I have papers from the firm's agent that
appoint me as master." Then he laughed softly and added, "But any time you
wish to carry our little dispute to the courts, you'll find me ready and
willing to meet you there. Too ready, Mr. Falk, for your own good. No, Mr.
Falk, it's better for you that you leave us here. Go your own gait. May you
fare better than you deserve!"
We cast off the painter, and they rowed into the dark toward the shore of
Java. They were men of broken fortunes, whose only hope for life lay in a
land infested with cut-throat desperadoes. I thought of Kipping who lay
dead on our deck. It seemed to me after all that Falk had got the worse
punishment; he had aspired to better things; weak though he was, there had
been the possibility of much good in his future. Now his career was
shattered; never again could he go home to his own country.
Yet when all was said and done, it was more merciful to set him adrift than
to bring him home to trial. Though he must suffer, he would suffer alone.
The punishment that he so fully deserved would not be made more bitter by
his knowing that all who knew him knew of his ruined life.
"Poor Falk!" I thought, and was amazed at myself for thinking almost kindly
of him.