OLD BILL’S RAID.
“We’re out of the cave, sure enough, but what are we to do now?” asked
Tom.
“We’ll find the fort, and if the pirates have gone, and haven’t taken our
boat with them, we’ll start for Charleston,” I answered.
“But how on earth are we going to find the fort?”
“Young masters,” said Bill, “there’s water yonder, and what we want to do
is to make for it. Whenever a man’s in trouble ashore, with constables or
anything else, let him make for blue water. That’s what I’ve learned by
experience, and I know it’s right.”
“Very well,” said I, “come along, then, and don’t waste any time.” And
so, with Bill carrying one of the guns, while I carried the other, we
started for the water.
Bill marched straight on through the woods, without turning either to one
hand or the other, and we soon came to a small river.
“Now the question is,” said I, “whether this is our river, and whether we
should go up or down it.”
“It’s sure to be the river that you come up when you come ashore,” said
Bill. “If it isn’t then it’s some other river, and it runs into the sea,
and we’re pretty near the mouth of it now.”
“How can you tell that?” I asked.
“Look at the trees,” he answered. “Don’t they all have a list up-stream?
It’s the sea-breeze blowin’ up the valley that does that, and you don’t
get the sea-breeze very far inland. What we want is a raft so as we can
float down without breakin’ our way through the thick underbrush.”
I was convinced that the old man was right, and we all three began to
search for timber with which to make a raft. Not having any tools but
a pocket knife we could not cut logs, but we found a dead trunk of a
tree with very few branches, and managed to launch it. Then we pulled
up some young saplings and lashed them across the tree with vines, so
that it would not roll over and over in the water. Our raft, when it was
finished, was the most awkward and clumsy raft ever built, but it would
float us, and that was all we wanted.
It must have been about five or six o’clock in the morning when we came
out of the cave, and it was noon by the sun when we shoved off the raft
and started down the river. We all sat with our feet drawn up on the big
log, and tried to steer the raft with poles. There was not much current
and the raft floated very slowly. Still we managed to keep it somewhere
near the middle of the stream, and the high trees on the banks shaded us,
so we did not feel the sun.
Tom took the opportunity to bathe his wounded arm and breast, and we were
delighted to see that although his arm was still stiff the wounds were
healing fast.
We were nearly all the afternoon on the raft, but at last we saw a column
of smoke some way ahead of us, so we worked the raft to the shore and
made it fast.
“That smoke’s black,” said Bill, “which means that somebody is burnin’
tar.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s the pirates,” Bill replied. “They’ve brought up the schooner and
careened her and are payin’ her seams with pitch; so they’re ashore yet.”
“Shall we creep down through the woods and see if we can find the boat?”
“Not till dark, or else they’ll be middlin’ sure to catch us.”
“But,” said I, “we can’t find our way through the woods after dark.”
“That’s so,” replied Bill. “Give me a few minutes to think this thing
over.”
Presently he said, “There’s two ways, young masters. One is for me to
leave you here and go right among the pirates. They’ll treat one of
Blackbeard’s men well, never you fear. I could let on that I meant to
join them, and could get some clothes, and then after dark I could take
the best boat and scuttle the others, and pull up after you.”
“What’s your other plan?” asked Tom.
“Just to leave you here,” said Bill, “while I sneak down and try to steal
the boat without being seen. There’s just one reason why the first plan
ain’t a tiptop one,” he continued. “You see, I might get drunk and not
get back here until you had got tired of waitin’. I’ve promised to knock
off rum, but they’ll give it to me, naturally; and if I don’t take it
they’ll believe that I’m tellin’ them a yarn about havin’ been a pirate
myself; and if I do take it then I break my word, and I won’t answer for
bein’ sober again till I get to sea.”
“Then you mustn’t go among them,” I said. “You would be going straight
into temptation, and now that you’ve turned over a new leaf that wouldn’t
do.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, young master,” exclaimed Bill, “so we’ll
give that plan up. Now, I’ll just work my way along the bank and see what
I can do toward carryin’ off a boat. No; you needn’t come along, for two
would make twice as much noise as one. I’ll be back by midnight, anyway;
and if I don’t, why, you’ll know that they’ve captured me, and you’ll
have to try what you can do without me.”
The old man tied his rags around his waist and started on his dangerous
expedition. I was astonished to see how easily he made his way through
the bushes and among the thick trees with so little noise, and felt that
if anybody could approach the pirates without being discovered, it was he.
It was long after midnight before Bill returned, and then he startled
us by suddenly appearing in the moonlight, dressed in a new shirt and
trousers, and wearing a hat. However, we knew him by his beard, and were
only frightened for a moment.
He told us that he had watched the pirates for hours while he was hid
in the bushes. They were busy calking the schooner, which was careened
at the landing place. When they knocked off work some of them went in
swimming, and he managed to steal one man’s clothes while he was in the
water.
“It looks a little like piratin’, this carryin’ off another man’s
clothes,” said Bill thoughtfully, “but I don’t think it ought to be
counted against me. These clothes are brand-new, you see, and they’ve
been stole out of some Frenchman’s chest, for they’re made of French
flannel, while the chap who was good enough to leave them where I could
get them when he undressed, was an Englishman.”
Bill could not get our boat because it was nowhere to be found, and from
what he heard the pirates say, a party had taken her and gone down to
the lagoon to fish. All the schooner’s boats were hauled up on the shore
under the trees, and they were so heavy that it would have taken three
or four men to launch one of them. So there was nothing to be done but
for us to wait until the next night, and then make another attempt to
recapture the boat.
The next morning we were very hungry, for all our provisions were gone
and we had nothing for breakfast except berries. Perhaps we could have
shot something, for the woods were full of game, but the pirates would
have heard us if we had fired a gun, and then all chance of getting a
boat would have been lost.
Toward the end of the afternoon Bill set out a second time for the
pirate’s fort, but this time I insisted on going with him, and I took my
gun. He would not take a gun, for he said it would be of no use unless
he meant to fight, and he wasn’t fool enough to fight a whole crew of
pirates. However, I felt easier in consequence of having a gun with me,
though, as it turned out, I did not have to use it.
We hid ourselves in a place where we could see everything the pirates
did and hear most that they said. Our boat was lying at the landing, but
it was directly in sight of the pirates, and it was impossible to make
any attempt to get it until after they should be asleep. Bill said that
they never set a watch at night except when at sea, and they would all be
sound asleep by midnight.
And so it happened. Long before midnight they all went into the fort,
with the exception of two young fellows, and were soon asleep. The two
pirates who remained outside walked up and down talking together in a low
tone for an hour or two, and then they fetched their blankets from the
fort and lay down in the shade of one of the schooner’s boats—for there
was nearly a full moon, and every one knows that in tropical countries
it is dangerous to sleep in the moonlight.
We waited until we thought they were asleep, and then Bill cautiously
crept out from our hiding-place, telling me to remain concealed until he
could cast the boat loose and bring it around a bend in the river.
One of the two men who were lying on the ground was wide awake, and when
he saw Bill walking toward the landing he called out, “Who’s that?”
I was sure now that Bill would be captured and I grasped my gun and
cocked it.
“None of your business,” replied Bill. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m Sandy Burns,” replied the man. “You needn’t be so uppish if you are
a bos’n.”
It was plain that the pirate thought that Bill was the boatswain of the
schooner, and I began to hope that he might escape, after all.
“Who’s uppish?” exclaimed Bill. “Can’t a man leave the blazin’ hot
fort and come down here for a swim without being hailed as if he was a
constable?”
The man said no more, and Bill going straight to his boat undressed and
threw his clothes into her.
Instead of trying at once to carry off the boat, he dropped into the
water, clinging to the boat so that he could not be seen from the shore.
He remained a long time in the water before he climbed into the boat, and
then he leisurely cut her loose and rowed quietly up-stream.
The man who had hailed him was evidently sound asleep, but if he had been
awake, Bill told me that he should have pretended that he had taken the
boat so that he could dive from her in deep water.
As soon as Bill started with the boat I followed along the bank until I
reached the bend of the river, where I found the boat waiting for me.
Bill was already dressed, and in high glee, and each of us taking an
oar sent the boat along at a fine rate. We soon came to where Tom was
sleeping, and rousing him up took him into the boat.
“We’ve got to make the best of our time to-night,” old Bill told us, “and
hide the boat in the bushes to-morrow, so that if the pirates chase us
they won’t find us. But I don’t believe they’ll chase us. They won’t ever
suspect that any one has carried off their boat.”
“Why, they’ll see that the boat is gone in the morning; they can’t help
but see it,” I said.
“Of course they’ll see it, but they’ll lay it to the bos’n. That fellow
that hailed me will say that he saw the bos’n come down for a bath and
saw him put his clothes in the boat. Most likely he’ll say too that he
saw the bos’n pull about the river in the boat so as to find a good
divin’ place. Then everybody will b’lieve that when the bos’n come ashore
he didn’t make the boat properly fast and so she drifted away. Naturally
they’ll think she drifted down-stream, so they’ll send down-stream for
her, and when they can’t find her they’ll think she has drifted out to
sea, and they’ll take it out of the bos’n.”
“What will they do to him, do you think?” I asked.
“Oh! they’ll shoot him, or maroon him, or give him three or four dozen.
It depends on how much the captain wanted this boat. I wouldn’t be in
that bos’n’s skin to-morrow, not for a good bit of money.”
Not only had we got back our own boat, but there were a quantity of
useful things in her. There were half a dozen fishing lines, a hatchet,
a breaker of fresh water, and a big knife, that had been used to clean
fish. Then there was a bag of biscuit, and a small grapnel, and a mast
and sail. Tom and I were in excellent spirits, and old Bill seemed to
be perfectly happy, especially whenever he thought of the unfortunate
boatswain.
“I don’t understand,” said Tom, “why we are pulling up-stream. We can’t
get to Charleston this way, and we shall only get further and further
away into the wilderness.”
I left Bill to answer this question, for I didn’t understand either why
we had continued up-stream after we had taken Tom into the boat.
“Them pirates,” replied Bill, “will be sure to search for the boat
down-stream, and if we had gone that way they would have caught us sure.
Now, supposin’ they do suspect us and follow us, we shall have a whole
day’s start of them, and they’ll give up the chase before they can find
us.”
“But how are we to get out of this river?” I asked.
“Don’t you fear about that,” he answered; “I know all this country and
have cruised on this very river. We follow it up till we come to a big
fresh-water lake, then we turn to the south’ard and coast along for a
couple of days till we come to another river and we follow it down to
the sea. We shall then be only a matter of fifty or a hundred miles to
the south’ard of where we are now, and we can then shape a course for
Charleston.”
“And shall we find plenty to eat?” asked Tom.
“We’ll find all the fish we want, but we’ll have to be sparin’ of the
powder, for you haven’t got more than a dozen charges in that horn, and
we may want them for somethin’ better than shootin’ game.”
“But we sha’n’t meet any more pirates,” said I.
“No, I don’t expect we will; but we may meet savages—Injins and such—and
they’re not much better than pirates. But you leave it to me; I know the
channel, and I’ll take you through safe.”
I was rather cast down to find that after escaping from pirates we were
in danger of falling into the hands of savages, but we had been preserved
from so many dangers that I could not help believing that we should be
brought safely to Charleston at last. So I gave up thinking about it and
bent my back to the oar, and pulled so strong that Bill, who was pulling
the bow oar, had hard work to keep the boat straight.