GOOD-BY TO OLD BILL.
The light shining from the cabin window made a fine mark for the battery,
and I lost no time in blowing it out. Our prisoner was lying where we
had left him, but as he was gagged he naturally did not speak to me, and
I was in too much of a hurry to speak to him, for there was no one at
the wheel. When I returned to the deck Bill and Tom were hoisting the
top-gallant yard, and when they had mast-headed it they came aft to where
I was standing.
The battery had not fired but once. This surprised me, for I knew that in
a very few minutes the brig would be clear of the inlet and out of range.
We waited rather anxiously for another shot, but it did not come; and
when we had edged around a point of land at the entrance to the inlet and
felt perfectly safe I expressed my wonder that they had not sunk us.
“It was only one or two chaps that fired that gun,” replied Bill. “S’pose
now, that two fellows did happen to sight us under sail. Well, as they
couldn’t man a boat and board us alone, they jest jumped into the battery
and fired a shot so as to bring down the whole gang. But we can’t stop
here, for we must trim them yards a bit.”
When the yards were trimmed—for we now had the wind a little on the
starboard quarter—Bill dropped on the deck to rest. He seemed to be
completely exhausted. But he had only rested a very few minutes when he
got on his feet again and said he would loose the foretop-gallant sail.
He seemed to stagger as he walked along the deck, and I called to him,
begging him to wait and rest. He only answered, “There’s got to be more
sail on her if we’re goin’ to get clear of the schooner,” and climbed
slowly up the rigging.
From where Tom and I were standing—for, as I have said, I was at the
wheel—we could not see the old man on the foretop-gallant yard, and we
waited a long while for him to make his appearance on deck. He did not
appear, however, and at last we got so uneasy that Tom, after hailing him
and receiving no answer, went aloft to look for him. In a few minutes Tom
came to me with a scared face and said that Bill was nowhere to be found.
I told Tom to take the wheel while I searched the deck fore and aft
for the old man, but without success. The sail that he had gone aloft
to loose was hanging in the brails, and it was evident that Bill had
either fallen overboard in a fit, or that he had missed his footing. Of
course it was idle to think of searching for him, for even if we had been
strong-handed enough to put the brig about, I had heard Bill say that
he could not swim a stroke, and we knew that he must have gone to the
bottom long before we missed him.
What with grief for the loss of the old man—for Tom and I had come to
feel a strong attachment for him—and the certainty that we two lads could
not work the brig without help, I felt more discouragement than I had
yet experienced even when Bill and I were lost in the cave. It was Tom
who put heart into me by reminding me that we were not alone, but that
we had a man in the cabin who was at least as strong as poor Bill. “Why
shouldn’t we make him work his passage?” asked Tom.
Why indeed? The idea was an excellent one, and taking my gun I went down
into the cabin, lit a candle, put it where it could not light up the
stern windows, and then took the gag out of Mr. March’s mouth, and asked
him if he was hungry.
“Thankee, my lad,” he answered very cheerfully. “I could make shift to
eat a bit of cheese which you’ll find in the pantry, and I’m as thirsty
as a bucket of sand.”
I found the cheese and some water, and gave the mate as much as he
wanted. I did not venture to set his hands free, so I had to feed him as
if he was a baby. This seemed to amuse him very much, and when he had
finished his supper he asked me to get his pipe and tobacco out of his
pocket and give him a smoke.
“You’ve captured this brig very handsome,” he said after his pipe was
lit. “It was well done considerin’ there were only three of you—an old
man and two boys.”
“How do you know how many of us there are?” said I.
“Because, young gentleman, I’ve got a pair of ears and you forgot to gag
’em. I’ve heard your voice and your brother’s voice and Bill’s voice on
deck, and never another voice. I don’t say but what you may have a gang
of deaf and dumb chaps with you, but it don’t look probable.”
I did not say anything, and Mr. March presently said, “I suppose you know
your own business, but my advice to you is to get all the sail you can on
her, for before daylight the schooner will be in chase of you, and she is
faster than the Swansea, unless it blows a livin’ gale.”
I told him that the brig was doing very well, and that we knew how to
sail her.
“But you don’t know how to navigate her,” he rejoined. “Bill, I know,
can’t read, and couldn’t work up observations even if he knew how to take
’em. It’s mighty lucky for you that you found me here, instead of some
ignorant, lazy fellow who would only have been a trouble to you.”
“So you are ready to join with us, are you?” I asked.
“Am I a natural born fool?” he replied. “Why, what else could I do? I
joined the men when they mutinied because I’d rather be captain of the
brig than walk the plank. All the same they didn’t keep their word, and
after I had navigated them to the island they made another chap from the
schooner captain of the Swansea. Now if I join you and navigates this
ship into port, I expect you’ll stand by me, and get the owners to allow
me salvage. Whereas, if I don’t join you, I’ll have to lie here till you
run up against the land somewhere, and then I’ll either be drowned or
hanged, accordin’ as I get ashore or don’t.”
“But how can we trust you, Mr. March?” I asked. “You helped seize this
brig; you’re a pirate, and you naturally want to get the brig in your
hands and deliver her to the pirates again.”
“I don’t naturally want to do any such thing,” he answered. “They’d
shoot me even if I brought the brig back to them, because they’d say you
couldn’t have captured her if I’d kept a good lookout; and they’d be
right about it, too. I’ve as much reason to want to get away from the
island as you have, and you need me a great sight more than I need you.
So do as you choose. Take me or leave me. Only you’ll make a mistake if
you lose the services of an able navigator.”
“Very well, Mr. March,” I said, “we’ll trust you. Come on deck at once
and help us make sail. I might as well tell you that Tom and I are alone.
Old Bill has fallen overboard from aloft.”
“Then you couldn’t get on without me, even if you wanted to,” said the
mate. “Please remember that when you come to see the owners. They’d ought
to give me half the value of the brig for salvage. It’s a great pity that
there isn’t anything in her but ballast and stores, and mighty little
stores, too.”
I unfastened Mr. March’s arms and he stood up and stretched himself. Then
he clapped me on the back and said, “Never fear, my lad. We’ll take this
brig into Charleston and make all our fortunes. But we’ve got to get
every foot of canvas on her that will draw, and we mustn’t lose any time
about it, either.”
We went on deck, and as soon as we had set the top-gallant sail Mr. March
braced the yards around and changed the course of the brig from due
north to due east. By this means he hoped to deceive the pirates, who
would naturally suppose that our first attempt would be to run directly
before the wind and reach the nearest American port as soon as possible.
Besides, the Swansea’s best sailing point was with the wind abeam, as I
ought to have remembered, but did not.
We worked hard for hours, and finally succeeded in setting every sail
that the Swansea owned, except the studding sails. It was two o’clock by
the time we had finished, and then Mr. March insisted that either Tom or
I should go below till four o’clock. It was finally agreed that I should
have the first rest, so I went below, and in two minutes was fast asleep
in the captain’s stateroom.
When Tom called me it was broad daylight, and I noticed that instead of
staying below to rest he hurried on deck as soon as he saw that I was
awake. I was not long in following him, and as soon as I put my head out
of the companion-way, I saw that something was the matter.
A fine fresh breeze was blowing and the Swansea, being lighter than I had
ever known her to be, was rushing through the water at the rate of nearly
ten knots an hour. Tom was at the wheel, and the compass told me that we
were still heading east. The mate was standing near the main rigging,
with a telescope in his hand, and away to the westward, so far that I
could not make out her rig, I could see a sail.
“That’s the schooner,” he said, as he shut up the glass and came aft. “I
know her as well as if she was a cable-length from us.”
“Do you think she sees us?” I asked.
“Sees us! Why, if we can see her, she can’t help but see us.”
“Can you tell how fast she is gaining on us?” asked Tom.
“I can’t, tell yet, but the odds are that she’s running two feet to our
one. She’s a much faster boat than we are, and this is just the wind that
suits her.”
“Is there anything that we can do that we haven’t done?” I asked
anxiously.
“Nothing. The only thing we can do is to overhaul the gun and try to
knock a stick out of her when she comes near.”
So saying the mate asked me to come with him and cast loose the long gun,
which we did in a few minutes, for he knew all about the handling of big
guns. Then we went below to where the pirates had made a magazine on the
lower deck, and brought up a dozen rounds of ammunition, which we stowed
on deck in the lee of the deck-house. Then Mr. March loaded the gun, and
built a fire in the galley so that he could heat a poker to use in firing
the gun.
“Now that we’ve got a fire, we’ll have some coffee, and then Master Tom
and me will take an hour below, for we need to feel fresh when the pinch
comes. The brig is going along as steady as a wagon, and if you want to
rouse me out you can pound on the deck with a handspike.”
We had our coffee, and then the mate and Tom left me alone at the wheel
with a handspike within ready grasp.
My gun and Tom’s were still loaded, but we had no more ammunition. We had
left our ammunition and all our other traps in our boat when we boarded
the brig, and Tom must have made her fast carelessly, for when we went to
look for her, after we had got clear of the inlet, she was gone. However
the guns I knew would be of little use in a fight with the schooner; for
if she once should get near enough to board us, it would be useless to
resist.
I let my companions sleep as long as I dared, but the schooner gradually
gained on us, and in two hours after I came on deck she was so near that
I could easily make her out. I therefore pounded on the deck and almost
immediately Tom and the mate were with me.
“In an hour more she’ll be near enough for her big gun to reach us. She
won’t try to hit us, though, for they don’t want the job of repairing the
brig when they get her. She’ll come alongside, and if we don’t surrender
she’ll board us.”
“When her gun can reach us, our gun can reach her, can’t it?” asked Tom.
“To be sure it can,” answered Mr. March, “and may be we’ll have the luck
to cripple her. Anyway we’ll try.”
It was slow work waiting through the next hour, but by that time the
schooner was near enough for us to try a shot. Tom went to the wheel and
the mate and I went forward.
I brought the poker from the galley, and Mr. March trained the gun with
great care and primed it. Then he took the poker and touched the loose
priming, while I watched with the glass to see where the shot would
strike.
But Mr. March had been so long in getting ready that the poker was cold,
and we could not fire the gun. I had to heat it again, and when after all
this preparation we fired and did not touch the schooner I was greatly
disappointed.
The mate was not in the least discouraged. “No man ever hits anything the
first time, and mostly he misses the second time. Wait till I get a third
shot, and perhaps it will do some work.” He was always a cheerful man,
and whatever it might be that he was doing, he was better satisfied with
himself than any man I ever saw.
Our second shot was as bad as the first one, and it took us so long to
load and fire that the schooner kept gaining on us frightfully. We had to
bring the brig up pretty close to the wind every time we fired, so as to
bring the gun to bear on the schooner, and of course every time we did
this we lost headway.
But the third shot went through the schooner’s main topmast, just above
the hounds, and took in her topsail for her in a hurry. This brought her
speed down to just about ours, and the mate said that he would only fire
one more shot, and that then he would go to the wheel and see what close
steering would do to help our sailing. This fourth shot made a hole in
the schooner’s foresail and evidently put her captain in a rage, for he
began firing at us as rapidly as his men could work their long gun. They
were much better marksmen than Mr. March, too. Their second shot carried
our foretop-mast, and the brig, coming up in the wind, was very nearly
taken aback.