A VISIT TO THE FLAG-SHIP
I had seldom assumed disguise, except when wearing Indian garb upon the
war-trail. Yet in boyhood I had occasionally masqueraded as a negro so
successfully as to deceive even my own family. With this in mind the
resolve was taken that in no other guise than that of a foolish,
huckstering darky could I hope to attain the guarded deck of that
Spanish frigate. This offered only the barest chance of success, yet
such chances had previously served me well, and must be trusted now.
Opportunity frequently opens to the push of a venturesome shoulder.
Once determined upon this I set to work, perfecting each detail which
might aid in the hazardous undertaking. Much was to be accomplished,
and consequently it was late in the afternoon before the two of us,
myself as much a negro to outward appearance as my sable companion,
floated anxiously down the broad river in a battered old scow heaped
high with every variety of country produce obtainable. Drifting with
the current, I kept the blunt nose pointed directly toward the bulging
side of the "Santa Maria," yet without venturing to glance in that
direction, until a sharp challenge of the vigilant sentinel warned us
to sheer off.
Slowly shipping the heavy steering oar, finding it difficult even in
that moment of suspense to suppress a smile at the expression of terror
on Alphonse's black face, I stood up, awed by the solemn massiveness of
the vast bulk towering above me, now barely thirty feet away. For the
first time I realized fully the desperation of my task, and my heart
sank. But the gesticulations of the wrathful guard could no longer be
ignored, and, smothering an exclamation of disgust at my momentary
weakness, I nerved myself for the play.
"_Caramba_!" the fellow shouted roughly in his native tongue. "Stop
there, you lazy niggers; don't let that boat drift any closer. Come,
sheer off, or, by all the saints, I 'll blow a hole clear through the
black hide of one of you!"
"Hold her back, boy!" I muttered hurriedly to the willing slave. "That
soldier means to shoot."
Then I held up a handful of our choicest fruit into view.
"I have got plenty vegetables, an' lot fruit fer sell," I shouted
eagerly in negro French, putting all the volume possible into my voice,
hopeful my words might penetrate the hidden deck above. "Plenty
'tatoes, peaches, olibs--eberyting fer de oppercers."
"Don't want them--pull away, and be lively about it."
It was a moment of despair, every hope suspended in the balance; my
heart beating like a trip-hammer with suspense. The thoroughly enraged
guard lifted his gun to the shoulder; there was threat in his eyes, yet
I ventured a desperate chance of one more word.
"I got de only _olibs_ on dis ribber."
"_Bastenade_!" yelled the infuriated fellow. "I 'll give you a shot to
pay for your insolence."
Even as he spoke, fumbling the lock of his gun, that same head observed
before suddenly popped over the high rail like Punch at a pantomime.
"Vat zat you say, nigger?" its owner cried doubtingly. "Vas it ze olif
you haf zare in ze leetle boat?"
I eagerly held up into view a choice handful of green fruit, my eyes
hopeful.
"Oui, Señor Oppercer--fresh olibs; same as ob your lan'."
The Spaniard was standing upright on the rail by this time, clinging
fast to a rope dangling from above, leaning far over, no slight
interest depicted upon his pinched, sallow countenance.
"It's all right, sentry," he said sharply to the soldier, who lowered
his gun with a scowl indicating his real desire. My newly found friend
lifted his squeaking voice again in unfamiliar speech.
"Bring ze leetle boat along ze side of ze sheep, you black fellar, an'
come up here wiz ze olif fer ze Capitaine."
"Scull in close against those steps, Alphonse," I muttered, overjoyed
at this rare stroke of good fortune. "Then pull out a few strokes; but
stay alongside until I come back. Don't let any one get aboard, and
keep a quiet tongue yourself."
The whites of his eyes alone answered me, he being too badly frightened
for speech. The situation was one to grate upon any nerves
unaccustomed to danger, yet, trusting the long training of the slave
would hold him obedient, I turned away, and, in another moment, had
scrambled up the rope ladder, plunging awkwardly over the high rail on
to the hitherto concealed deck. My pulses throbbed with excitement
over the desperate game fronting me, yet, with a coolness surprising to
myself, I lost at that instant every sensation of personal fear, in
determination to act thoroughly my assumed character. More lives than
one hung in the balance, and, with tightly clenched teeth, I swore to
prove equal to the venture. The very touch of those deck planks to my
bare feet put new recklessness into my blood, causing me to marvel at
the perfection of my own fool play.
The gaunt Spaniard commanding my presence stood waiting, hardly more
than five paces from where I landed, yet so intense became my immediate
interest in the strange scene--an interest partly real, but largely
simulated for the occasion--that he contented himself watching my
confused antics with much apparent amusement, and without addressing
me. Even to this hour that scene lies distinct before my eyes.
Possessed I skill with pencil I could sketch each small detail from the
retina of memory--the solitary sentinel beside the rail, his well-worn
uniform of blue and white dingy in the sun; another farther forward,
where a great opening yawned; with yet a third, standing rigid before a
closed door of the after cabin. An officer, his coat richly decorated
with gold braid, wearing epaulets, and having a short sword dangling at
his side, paced back and forth across the top of a little house near
the stern. I heard him utter some command to a sailor near the wheel,
but he never so much as glanced toward me. Perhaps thirty or more
seamen, bronzed of face, and oddly bedecked as to hair, lounged idly
amid the shadows opposite, while, more closely at hand, that gaunt,
cadaverous Spaniard, at whose invitation I was present, leaned against
a big gun, puffing nonchalantly at a cigarette, held between lean,
saffron-colored fingers. The deck was white as the snows of a northern
Winter, while the brass work along the railings and about the cannon
glittered brilliantly in the sunshine. There was a gaudy
yellow-and-white striped canopy stretched above a portion of the deck
aft; the huge masts seemed to pierce into the blue of the skies; while
on every side were ranged grim guns of brass and iron.
My role was that of an ignorant, green, half-frightened darky, and I
presume I both appeared and acted the natural-born idiot, if I might
judge from the expression upon the Spaniard's face, and the broad grin
lighting up the fierce countenance of the sentry at the gangway. Yet
back of this mask there was grim determination and fixed purpose, so
that no article of furniture was along that broad deck which I did not
mentally photograph, so as to know its whereabouts if ever I chanced
that way again. Ay! even to a little cuddy door beside the cookhouse,
apparently opening directly into the mysterious regions below, and a
great chest lashed hard against the rail, within which I distinguished
the bright colors of numerous flags. I noticed also the odd manner in
which queer rope ladders led up from either side of the broad deck to
the vast spars high above, rising tier on tier until my head grew dazed
with gazing at them.
"Vel, Sambo, my black fellow," grinned the officer, whose eyes were
still lazily following my erratic movements as I peered innocently into
the muzzle of a brass carronade in apparent hope of discovering the
ball, "zis vus ze first time you vus ever on ze war-sheep, I sink
likely. How you like stop here, hey, an' fight wis dos sings?" And he
rested his yellow hand caressingly upon the breech of the gun.
I shook my head energetically, rendering as prominent as possible the
whites of my eyes, at which he grinned wider than ever.
"No, sah, Mister Oppercer Man; you don't git dis hyer nigger into no
fought, sah," I protested with vehemence. "I done fought wid de Injuns
onct, sah, an' I done don't want no mo'."
"Veil, you not vorry, boy; you voud be no good on ze war-sheep. But
now you come wis me to ze Capitaine--bring ze olif."
Bearing a tempting sample of the Spaniard's favorite fruit tightly
clutched in my black hand, and pulling my battered straw hat lower in
concealment of my telltale hair, I made awkward attempt to shuffle
along behind him, as he carelessly advanced toward the after part of
the vessel. But I loitered along our passage to examine so many
objects of curiosity, asking such a multitude of extremely absurd
questions, that we consumed considerable time in traversing even the
comparatively short distance to where the rigid sentinel fronted us
before the cabin door. My queries were simple enough to have birth in
the brain of a fool, yet my guide was of rare good humor, and evidently
so amused at my ignorant curiosity that his patience withstood the
strain. On my part none were blindly asked, but were intended to open
a way toward others of the utmost importance. My sole purpose at that
moment was to lull suspicion to rest; when that had been accomplished,
then I might confidently hope to pump my trustful victim of such
information as I imperatively required. The ignorant questions of an
imbecile will oftentimes be frankly responded to, where a wise man
might ask in vain, and my first play was to establish my character as a
fool. That I had succeeded was already evident.
The statuesque guard before the cabin brought his musket up at our
approach with so smart a snap as to startle me into a moment's apparent
terror. To the officer's request that we be admitted to the presence
of the Captain, he responded briefly that that officer had gone forward
half an hour before. My guide glanced about as if uncertain where he
had better turn in search.
"Did he go down the hatch?" he queried shortly.
"I know not, Señor Gonzales," was the respectful reply. "But I believe
he may be with the prisoners' guard below."
The officer promptly started forward, and, awaiting no formal
invitation, I shambled briskly after, keeping as close as possible to
his heels. Could I gain a brief glimpse below the deck it would be
worth more to me than any amount of blind questioning, and my heart
thumped painfully in remembrance of what hung upon his movements. With
a single sharp word to the sentry at the hatch he swung himself
carelessly over the edge, mysteriously disappearing into the gloom
beneath. That was no time for hesitancy, and I was already preparing
to do likewise, when the guard, a surly-looking brute, promptly
inserted the point of his bayonet into my ragged garment, accompanying
this kindly act with a stern order to remain where I was.
"An' what fo' yo' do dat, Señor Sojer?" I cried, in unaffected anguish,
rubbing the injured part tenderly, yet speaking loud so that my words
should be distinctly audible below. "Dat oppercer man he done tol' me
to foller him to de Captain. What fo' yo' stop me wid dat toastin'
fork?"
"It's all right, Manuel," sung out a voice in Spanish from the lower
darkness. "Let the fool nigger come down."
The thoroughly disgusted soldier muttered something about his orders,
that his lieutenant had not ever authorized him to pass fools.
Overlooking this personal allusion, and fearing more serious opposition
from some one higher in authority, I took advantage of his momentary
doubt, promptly swung my legs over the edge of the hatch opening,
groped blindly about with my bare feet until they struck the rungs of a
narrow ladder, and went scrambling down into the semi-darkness of
between-decks, managing awkwardly to miss my final footing, thus
flopping in a ragged heap at the bottom.
"Holy Mother! you make more noise zan a sheep in action," grumbled the
startled officer, as I landed at his feet. "Vat for you come down ze
ladder zat vay?"
Rubbing my numerous bruises energetically, I contented myself with
staring up at him as if completely dazed by my fall. Reading in his
amused countenance no symptom of awakening suspicion I ventured a quick
glance at my new surroundings. We were in what appeared a large
unfurnished room, with doors of all sizes opening in every direction,
while I could perceive a narrow entry, or passageway, extending toward
the after part of the vessel. The roof, formed of the upper deck, was
low, upheld by immense timbers, and the apartment, nearly square, was
dimly flooded by the sparse light sifting down through the single
hatch-opening above, so that, in spite of its large dimensions, it had
a cramped and stuffy appearance. The vast butt of the mainmast arose
directly in front of me, and, upon a narrow bench surrounding it, a
dozen soldiers were lounging, while near the entrance to the
passageway, scarcely more than a shadow in that dimness, stood a
sentry, stiff and erect, with musket at his shoulder. They were mostly
slightly built, dark-featured men, attired in blue and white uniforms,
the worse for wear, and were all laughing at my crazy entrance. No
doubt my coming afforded some relief to their tiresome, dull routine.
While lying there, apparently breathless from my fall, my brains
effectively muddled, a young officer advanced hastily from out the
gloom to inquire into so unusual an uproar.
"What is all this noise about?" he questioned sharply, striding toward
us. "Ah, Gonzales; whom have you here? Another bird to add to our
fine collection?"
"If so, it must be a rare blackbird, Señor Francisco," returned my
friend, vainly endeavoring to recover his customary gravity. "By Saint
Cristobal! I have not laughed so heartily for a year past as at this
poor black fool. Faith, I sought to enlist him in the service of His
Most Christian Majesty, yet his method of coming down a companion
ladder convinced me he sadly lacks the necessary qualifications for a
sailor. Hast seen aught of the Captain here below?"
"Ay, comrade, thou wilt find him aft. He hath just had speech once
more with the chief rebel, the graybeard they call Lafrénière, and was
in raging temper when last we met. _Caramba_! he even called me an
ass, for no more serious fault, forsooth, than that I made the round of
my guard unattended. Hath your darky news for him?"
"Nay; the fellow possesseth not sufficient sense to be a messenger,
except it may be a message for his stomach to make his humor better,"
was the reply. "Come, trot along now, boy, and mind where you put down
those big feet in the passage."
I struggled upright in response to his order, assisted by the sharp tap
of a boot accompanying it, tripped over a gun barrel one of the guard
facetiously inserted between my legs, and went down once more, uttering
such howl of terror as could be only partially drowned beneath the
uproarious laughter of my merry tormentors. It developed into a
gantlet, yet I ran the line with little damage, and, after much ducking
and pleading, managed to regain my position close to the heels of Señor
Gonzales before he turned into the passageway, which, as I now
perceived, was dimly illumined by means of a single lantern, hung to a
blackened upper beam.
"Well, good luck to both of you," called out the young officer of the
guard laughingly as we disappeared. "Yet I 'd hate to have the
steering of such a crazy craft as follows in your wake, Gonzales, and I
warn you again the Señor Captain will be found in beastly humor."
"I fear nothing," returned my guide, his lean yellow face turned
backward over his shoulder. "I have what will bring him greater
happiness than a decoration from the King."
Shambling awkwardly forward, simulating all the uncouthness possible, I
retained my wits sufficiently to note our surroundings--the long,
narrow passage, scarcely exceeding a yard in width, with numerous doors
opening on either side. Several of these stood ajar, and I perceived
berths within, marking them as sleeping apartments, although one upon
the right was evidently being utilized as a linen closet, while yet
another, just beyond, and considerably larger, seemed littered with a
medley of boxes, barrels, and great bags. This apartment appeared so
much lighter than those others, even a stray ray of sunshine pouring
directly down into it from above, that I instinctively connected it in
my mind with the cook-house on the upper deck, and the open cuddy door
I had chanced to notice.
As we approached the farther end this passage suddenly widened into a
half circle, sufficiently extended to accommodate the huge butt of the
mizzenmast, which was completely surrounded by an arm-rack crowded with
short-swords, together with all manner of small arms. A grimly silent
guard stood at either side, and I perceived the dark shadow of a third
still farther beyond, while the half-dozen cabins close at hand had
their doors tightly closed, and fastened with iron bars.
Instinctively I felt that here were confined those French prisoners,
the knowledge of whose exact whereabouts I sought amid such
surroundings of personal peril, and my heart bounded from sudden
excitement. In simulated awkwardness, I unfortunately overdid my part.
Shuffling forward, more eager than ever to keep at the heels of my
protector, yet with eyes wandering in search of any opening, my bare
feet struck against a projecting ring-bolt in the deck, and over I
went, striving vainly to regain my balance. Before that human statue
on guard could even lower his gun to repel boarders, my head struck him
soundly in the stomach, sending him crashing back against one of those
tightly closed doors. Tangled up with the surprised soldier, who
promptly clinched his unexpected antagonist, and, with shocking
profanity, strove to throttle me, I yet chanced to take note of the
number "18" painted upon the white wood just above us. Then the door
itself was hurled hastily open, and with fierce exclamation of rage a
gray-hooded Capuchin monk bounded forth like a rubber ball, and
instantly began kicking vigorously right and left at our struggling
figures. It gives me pleasure to record that the Spaniard, being on
top, received by far the worst of it, yet I might also bear testimony
to the vigor of the priest's legs, while we shared equally in the
volubility of his tongue.
"_Sacre_!" he screamed in French, punctuating each sentence with a
fresh blow. "Get away from here, you drunken, quarrelling brutes! Has
it come to this, that a respectable priest of Holy Church may not hold
private converse with the condemned without a brawl at the very door?
Mother of God! what meaneth the fracas? Where is the guard? Why don't
some of them jab their steel in the blasphemous ragamuffins who thus
make mock of the holy offices of religion? Take that, you black,
sprawling beast!"
He aimed a vicious stroke at my head, which I ducked in the nick of
time to permit of its landing with full force in my companion's ribs.
I heard him grunt in acknowledgment of its receipt.
"Where is the guard, I say! If they come not I will strangle the dogs
with my own consecrated hands to the glory of God. By the sainted
Benedine! was ever one of our Order so basely treated before? Get
away, I tell you! 'Tis a disgrace to the true faith, and just as I was
about to bring the Chevalier to his knees in confession of his sins!"
Gonzales was fairly doubled up with laughter at the ludicrous incident,
choking so that speech had become an utter impossibility. By this time
the aroused guards began hurrying forward on a run down the passageway
to rescue their imperilled comrade, yet, before the foremost succeeded
in laying hands upon me, a newcomer, resplendent in glittering uniform,
with an inflamed, almost purple face, leaped madly forth from the
opposite side of the mast and began laying about him vigorously with an
iron pin, making use meanwhile of a vocabulary of choice Spanish
epithets such as I never heard equalled.
"By the shrine of Saint Gracia!" shouted this new arrival hoarsely,
glaring about in the dim light as if half awakened from a bad dream.
"What meaneth this aboard my ship? _Caramba_! is this a travelling
show--a place for mountebanks and gypsies? Shut the door, you
shrieking gray-back of a monk, or I 'll have you cat-o'-nine-tailed by
the guard, in spite of your robe. Get up, you drunken brute!"
The crestfallen soldier to whom these last affectionate words were
addressed limped painfully away, and then the justly irate commander of
His Christian Majesty's flag-ship "Santa Maria" glowered down on me
with an astonishment that for the moment held him dumb.
"Where did this dirty nigger come from?" he roared at last, applying
one of his heavy sea-boots to me with vehemence. "Who is the villain
who dared bring such cattle on board my ship?"
Gonzales, now thoroughly sobered by the seriousness of the situation,
attempted to account for my presence, but before he had fairly begun
his story, the Captain, who by this time was beyond all reason, burst
roaring forth again:
"Oh, so you brought him! You did, hey? Well, did n't I tell you to
let no lazy, loafing bumboat-man set foot on board? Do you laugh at my
orders, you good-for-nothing scum of the sea? And above all things why
did you ever drag such a creature as this down between decks to
disgrace the whole of His Majesty's navy? Get up, you bundle of rags!"
I scrambled to my feet, seeking to shuffle to one side out of his
immediate sight, but a heavy hand closed instantly on my ragged collar
and held me fronting him. For a moment I thought he meant to strike
me, but I appeared such a miserable, dejected specimen of humanity that
the fierce anger died slowly out of his eyes.
"Francisco," he called sternly, "heave this thing overboard, and be
lively about it! Saints of Mercy! he smells like a butcher-boat in the
tropics."
Hustled, dragged, cuffed, mercilessly kicked, the fellows got me out
upon the open deck at last; I caught one fleeting glimpse of the great
masts, the white, gleaming planks under foot, the horrified, upturned,
face of Alphonse in the little boat beneath, and then, with a heave and
a curse, over I went, sprawling down from rail to river, as terrified a
darky as ever made hasty departure from a man-of-war.