[Illustration: “HE NEVER LET GO HIS HOLD ON TOM.”
37]
THE LOSS
OF THE SWANSEA
_A STORY OF THE FLORIDA COAST_
BY
W. L. ALDEN
AUTHOR OF “THE ADVENTURES OF JIMMY BROWN,”
“THE MORAL PIRATES,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY F. O. SMALL_
BOSTON
D. LOTHROP COMPANY
WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD
COPYRIGHT, 1889,
BY
D. LOTHROP COMPANY.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE MUTINY 9
CHAPTER II.
ASHORE 24
CHAPTER III.
IN THE CAVE 40
CHAPTER IV.
MAROONED 56
CHAPTER V.
LOST IN THE LABYRINTH 71
CHAPTER VI.
OLD BILL’S RAID 86
CHAPTER VII.
INTO THE EVERGLADES 102
CHAPTER VIII.
PRISONERS 117
CHAPTER IX.
ON BLUE WATER 133
CHAPTER X.
THE SWANSEA AGAIN 148
CHAPTER XI.
GOOD-BY TO OLD BILL 164
CHAPTER XII.
THE LAST OF THE SWANSEA 179
THE LOSS OF THE SWANSEA.
CHAPTER I.
THE MUTINY.
I was nearly fifteen and my brother Tom was a little over sixteen when
father died. There were no more of us, for our mother had died when I was
so little that I could scarcely remember her. The only relation we had in
the world was an uncle whom we had never seen and who lived in America,
in the colony of the Carolinas.
Father was a British channel pilot, and Tom and I were born and had lived
except for one week, all our lives, in Bristol. This I have been told is
the finest city in England, though, of course, everybody knows that it is
not quite so big as London. Father owned a share in a pilot boat, and
he often took us out with him when he was cruising for a homeward-bound
ship. We used to help the men work the boat, and we were better sailors
than either of the two apprentices.
Once a man hired father to sail a new brig from Bristol round to
Penzance, and we went with him. That was the one week when we did not
live in Bristol, which I just mentioned. We enjoyed it very much and
learned a good deal about square-rigged vessels while we were in the brig.
Pilots did not make much profit in those days, and father left us nothing
except half a crown and his share of the pilot boat. Before he died he
told his partners to sell his share and use the money to send Tom and me
to our uncle in America. The two partners bought the share themselves for
thirty pounds, which was all it was worth, for they were good honest men,
and when they had paid our passage to America on the brig Swansea, they
gave us two pounds ten and threepence, which was all the money that was
left.
The captain of the Swansea agreed to take us as if we were gentlemen
passengers. We were to live with him in the great cabin and were not to
do any work. Not that we were not quite willing to work our passage, but
Captain Robinson, father’s oldest partner, said, “No; it was our late
pardner’s orders that you was to be sent to America, and that did not
mean that you should work your way; and it shall be done accordin’ to
orders, for a dead man’s wishes ought for to be carried out, providin’ it
can be done; you don’t want to have ghosts a-visitin’ you.”
The Swansea was a fine brig of four hundred tons. She carried four guns
on a side besides a big gun amidships. These guns were to keep off
pirates, though, as it turned out, they were the very reason why we fell
into the hands of pirates; for if we had not been so well armed I doubt
not that we should have sailed straight to Charleston and the poor
captain would have been alive at this day.
We had two mates and a crew of twelve men besides the cook and the cabin
boy, so, for the size of the brig, we were strong-handed.
The captain, whose name was Fearing, was a Bristol man, who had known
father for many years. He was a good, kind man, but he was not severe
enough to keep a bad crew in order, and, what was worse, he often drank
too much spirits, and then acted so foolishly that the men had no respect
for him. I do not like to say this, because Captain Fearing was always
kind to Tom and me. He was a brave man, too, and always ready to do his
duty when he was sober, but it is the truth, and there is no help for it.
The mate was a smart, active seaman, but I did not like him, for I always
felt that he could not be trusted. Instead of keeping spirits from the
captain, he would often bring a bottle with him on deck and offer it
to the poor man who could not resist the temptation to drink when the
stuff was, as you might say, held up to his lips. But I had no reason to
complain of the mate’s treatment of Tom and me. He was always pleasant
and respectful, treating us indeed like young gentlemen, and he would
sometimes tell us wonderful stories of the exploits of great pirates,
such as Captain John Morgan, and other like bloody men.
The second mate, Mr. Otway, was a hard, brutal man, who was fond of
knocking the men about and of using dreadful language; but one night,
after we had been at sea about three weeks, he fell overboard. At least
he was missing, and it was supposed he had fallen overboard, though I now
believe that he was murdered by the crew.
And surely a worse crew never sailed out of Bristol. They were shipped
because sailors were scarce at the time, and Captain Fearing had to take
such men as he could get. They were mostly Englishmen, but a drunken,
vagabond set, and there were three or four foreigners among them,
Spaniards and such—wicked-looking men who were fit for any desperate
work. The men obeyed Mr. Otway because they were afraid of him, and
they generally treated the mate respectfully, but they would insult the
captain to his face.
We had pleasant weather all the voyage, for it was the month of June,
when the winter was over and the summer hurricanes had not begun. The
brig was a very fast sailer, and was not heavily loaded, but I heard that
her cargo was a very valuable one, although I never knew what it was.
There is a strong current called the Gulf Stream that sets up the
American coast, and when we were approaching it the captain kept to the
southward in order to make allowance for it; for he was not an expert
navigator with instruments, and used to say that he valued dead reckoning
and the hand-lead more than all the brass instruments and mathematics
that were ever invented. As it afterwards turned out, he was mistaken in
his reckoning, and we were much further south than we ought to have been,
though I think the mate knew it all the time.
Early one morning Tom and I were awakened by a noise in the cabin, and
turning out in a hurry, we found the cabin filled with men. The captain
was sitting in a chair with his hands and feet tied, and the mate was
standing in front of him making a speech. Nearly all the crew were there,
some of them grinning and passing low jokes, but more of them looking
fierce and excited. The captain was quite sober and had evidently been
seized and bound while he was asleep, for he was in his night-clothes.
Nobody paid any attention to Tom and me, and we tried not to attract any
notice.
“I’m very sorry that this has happened, Captain Fearing,” said the mate,
“for I’ve nothing in the world against you, but you must see that it’s
a shame that a smart brig like the Swansea, and a stout crew should be
wasted in trading when we could make our fortunes out of hand in a few
months as gentlemen rovers.”
“You’re a scoundrel, John March,” replied the captain, “a mutinous,
piratical hound.”
“Now, don’t use such language, Captain, for I want to be friendly with
you, though, in course, I knew that you’re ruffled a bit at being lashed
up in your own cabin. But it’s this way, you see. The men are determined
to make a cruise or two in the brig, and as I’m the only navigator on
board, except you, they naturally want me to take charge of her, knowing
that you’ve a prejudice against a roving life. I’d have continued the
voyage to Charleston if I’d had my way, but when it’s a choice between
commanding as brave a set of men as ever I sot eyes on, or having my head
split open, why, in course, I chooses the first.”
Here some of the men began to murmur that there had been enough talk,
and that they couldn’t wait all day for soft speeches.
“What do you mean to do with me?” asked the Captain. “And what do you
mean to do with the two young gentlemen?”
“We are going to treat you very handsome, Captain,” replied the mate.
“The brig is at this identical moment hove to in sight of the coast of
Florida. There’s a boat all ready for you, and you and the two young
gentlemen can take it and pull ashore, or steer for Charleston, just as
you please. We’ll give you provisions and arms, and you’ll find fresh
water ashore; and I think you’ll admit that this is more than you’ve any
right to expect.”
“Let the kids join in with us, if so be that they want to make their
fortins,” said one of the men.
“They don’t want to join; they wouldn’t be of no use except to share our
earnings, and besides it was in our bargain that they were to be put
ashore with the captain. I sticks to my bargain, my lads, and I expect
you to stick to yours,” said the mate.
I was very glad to hear this said, for I was beginning to have a terrible
fear that I should be made to stay with the pirates.
“And now, Captain,” continued the mate, “if you’ll pass your word to go
ashore quiet and peaceable, I’ll cast off these lashin’s, and you shall
dress yourself and leave us, for there’s a nice breeze springing up.”
The captain wanted to burst out in violent language; but he saw it was no
use, so he presently said, “I’m in your power and I must submit.”
“That’s right,” exclaimed the mate; “I do like to see a man act smooth
and appreciate a kindness when it’s shown to him. Now, men, you can go
on deck and I’ll stay here till the captain and the young gentlemen are
ready.”
Tom and I dressed in a hurry, and as soon as the captain was ready we all
went on deck, and the mate invited us to get into one of the quarter
boats. The men stood near by, silent and scowling.
“You’ll find everything comfortable in the boat,” said the mate, as
pleasantly as if we had hired it of him for a pleasure trip. “There’s two
hams, and some biscuit, and there’s two guns and ammunition, and there’s
blankets, and a lantern. Why, you might go a pirating yourself, Captain,
with that craft. I really envy you, I do.”
All the while he was talking the mate was pushing us into the boat, and
passing one of the falls to the captain and one to me. “Now lower away
smartly,” he added, “for we want to make sail on the brig.”
“This is all foolishness,” cried one of the sailors, with a lot of wicked
words which I won’t mention. “Cut one of the falls, and drown the lot of
them, I say.”
March jumped on the rail, holding on by one of the davits, and drew a
pistol. “I’ve passed my word that they shall go ashore safe,” he said,
“and you know me and know I’m a man of my word. The first man that
touches one of those falls is a dead man.”
The men said no more, and we lost no time in getting clear of the brig.
As we pulled away the mate waved his hat to the captain, and then jumped
down from the rail and we saw him no more.
We pulled straight for the shore, Tom and I taking the oars and the
captain steering. The shore was only about ten miles away, and the sea
was quite smooth, with a nice light breeze that helped to keep us cool.
The captain said nothing for a long while, but kept looking back at the
brig. The pirates had filled the main topsail as soon as we had left, and
were now standing to the south’ard, and we never expected to see them or
the brig again.
“It’s the bottle that has done this,” exclaimed the captain after a
while. “If I’d have kept sober I could have seen this mutiny brewing, and
stopped it, but now I am a ruined man. All I had in the world was in
that vessel.”
As he seemed to be talking to himself and not to us, neither Tom nor I
said anything to him.
“And John March, too, a man whose life I had saved. To think that
he should turn against me and seize my brig. But he never had any
conscience, and he is sure to come to the gallows.”
“But if it hadn’t been for him, sir,” I ventured to say, “we should all
have been drowned.”
“I suppose so,” answered the captain; “but it would have been better for
me if I had been. Take warning by me, boys, and never touch spirits. I’ve
taken my last drink, but I’ve mended my ways when it is too late to undo
the ruin that I have brought on myself. Before you ever take a glass of
spirits, you jump overboard and drown yourself, for you’d much better be
dead than a drunkard.”
I was very glad to hear that the captain had resolved never to drink
again, for I liked him very much, all but his one bad habit.
But before very long he began to overhaul the things in the stern sheets,
as if he were searching for something, and could not find it. Then he
said, “Boys, just look about you and see if there is a bottle in the
boat.” We couldn’t find any, and then the captain broke out against the
mate, saying that he had purposely set him ashore without a drop of
spirits, though he knew he couldn’t live without it. So I saw that the
captain’s reformation would only last till he could get at the bottle
again. It was very lucky for us that the mate had not put any strong
liquors in the boat; for if he had done so the captain would certainly
have made himself unfit to manage the boat and would very likely have
capsized it and drowned us all.
I had noticed a little piece of white paper lying on the bottom of the
boat, and when the breeze fluttered it I saw it had writing on it. So I
pointed it out to the captain, and he read it out loud, for he was a poor
scholar and could not read unless he pronounced every word, and spelled
all the long ones. I picked the note up afterwards and have kept it to
this day. Here it is:
HONORED CAPTAIN:
I take the great liberty of saying that we are now in latitude
29°, your calculations not having been quite right, through
no fault of yours. You will find a small river, if you pull
straight ashore, but the entrance to it won’t be easy to find
unless you bring two tall pine trees in a line. If I may humbly
advise I would say don’t stop on this coast, for you might
meet some bad characters, but steer northerly for about eighty
miles, where you will find a settlement. With my duty to the
young gentlemen, and wishing you health and a prosperous voyage
I am your humble servant,
JOHN MARCH.