THE FIGHT
EARLY in the morning—perhaps eight o’clock—Lieutenant Maynard sent
a boat from the schooner over to the settlement, which lay some four
or five miles distant. A number of men stood lounging on the landing,
watching the approach of the boat. The men rowed close up to the wharf,
and there lay upon their oars, while the boatswain of the schooner, who
was in command of the boat, stood up and asked if there was any man
there who could pilot them over the shoals.
Nobody answered, but all stared stupidly at him. After a while, one of
the men at last took his pipe out of his mouth. “There ben’t any pilot
here, master,” said he; “we ben’t pilots.”
“Why, what a story you do tell!” roared the boatswain. “D’ye suppose
I’ve never been down here before, not to know that every man about here
knows the passes of the shoals?”
The fellow still held his pipe in his hand. He looked at another one of
the men. “Do you know the passes in over the shoals, Jem?” said he.
The man to whom he spoke was a young fellow with long, shaggy, sunburnt
hair hanging over his eyes in an unkempt mass. He shook his head,
grunting. “Na—I don’t know naught about t’ shoals.”
“’Tis Lieutenant Maynard of his Majesty’s navy in command of them
vessels out there,” said the boatswain. “He’ll give any man five pound
to pilot him in.” The men on the wharf looked at one another, but still
no one spoke, and the boatswain stood looking at them. He saw that they
did not choose to answer him. “Why,” he said, “I believe you’ve not got
right wits—that’s what I believe is the matter with you. Pull me up
to the landing, men, and I’ll go ashore and see if I can find anybody
that’s willing to make five pound for such a little bit of piloting as
that.”
After the boatswain had gone ashore, the loungers still stood on the
wharf, looking down into the boat, and began talking to one another for
the men below to hear them. “They’re coming in,” said one, “to blow
poor Blackbeard out of the water.” “Ay,” said another man, “he’s so
peaceable too, he is; he’ll just lay still and let’em blow and blow,
he will.” “There’s a young fellow there,” said another of the men; “he
don’t look fit to die yet, he don’t. Why, I wouldn’t be in his place
for a thousand pound.” “I do suppose Blackbeard’s so afraid he don’t
know how to see,” said the first speaker.
At last one of the men in the boat spoke up. “Maybe he don’t know how
to see,” said he, “but maybe we’ll blow some daylight into him afore we
get through with him.”
Some more of the settlers had come out from the shore to the end of the
wharf, and there was now quite a crowd gathering there, all looking at
the men in the boat. “What do them Virginny ‘baccy-eaters do down here
in Caroliny, anyway?” said one of the new-comers. “They’ve got no call
to be down here in North Carolina waters.”
“Maybe you can keep us away from coming, and maybe you can’t,” said a
voice from the boat.
“Why,” answered the man on the wharf, “we could keep you away easy
enough, but you ben’t worth the trouble, and that’s the truth.”
There was a heavy iron bolt lying near the edge of the landing. One of
the men upon the wharf slyly thrust it out with the end of his foot. It
hung for a moment and then fell into the boat below with a crash. “What
d’ye mean by that?” roared the man in charge of the boat. “What d’ye
mean, ye villains? D’ye mean to stave a hole in us?”
“Why,” said the man who had pushed it, “you saw ‘twasn’t done a
purpose, didn’t you?”
“Well, you try it again, and somebody’ll get hurt,” said the man in the
boat, showing the butt-end of his pistol.
The men on the wharf began laughing. Just then the boatswain came down
from the settlement again, and out along the landing. The threatened
turbulence quieted as he approached, and the crowd moved sullenly aside
to let him pass. He did not bring any pilot with him, and he jumped
down into the stern of the boat, saying briefly, “Push off.” The crowd
of loungers stood looking after them as they rowed away, and when the
boat was some distance from the landing they burst out into a volley of
derisive yells. “The villains!” said the boatswain, “they are all in
league together. They wouldn’t even let me go up into the settlement to
look for a pilot.”
* * * * *
The lieutenant and his sailing-master stood watching the boat as it
approached. “Couldn’t you, then, get a pilot, Baldwin!” said Mr.
Maynard, as the boatswain scrambled aboard.
“No, I couldn’t, sir,” said the man. “Either they’re all banded
together, or else they’re all afraid of the villains. They wouldn’t
even let me go up into the settlement to find one.”
“Well, then,” said Mr. Maynard, “we’ll make shift to work in as best we
may by ourselves. ‘T will be high tide against one o’clock. We’ll run
in then with sail as far as we can, and then we’ll send you ahead with
the boat to sound for a pass, and we’ll follow with the sweeps. You
know the waters pretty well, you say.”
“They were saying ashore that the villain hath forty men aboard,” said
the boatswain.[1]
Lieutenant Maynard’s force consisted of thirty-five men in the schooner
and twenty-five men in the sloop. He carried neither cannons nor
carronades, and neither of his vessels was very well fitted for the
purpose for which they were designed. The schooner, which he himself
commanded, offered almost no protection to the crew. The rail was
not more than a foot high in the waist, and the men on the deck were
almost entirely exposed. The rail of the sloop was perhaps a little
higher, but it, too, was hardly better adapted for fighting. Indeed,
the lieutenant depended more upon the moral force of official authority
to overawe the pirates than upon any real force of arms or men. He
never believed, until the very last moment, that the pirates would show
any real fight. It is very possible that they might not have done so
had they not thought that the lieutenant had actually no legal right
supporting him in his attack upon them in North Carolina waters.
It was about noon when anchor was hoisted, and, with the schooner
leading, both vessels ran slowly in before a light wind that had begun
to blow toward midday. In each vessel a man stood in the bows, sounding
continually with lead and line. As they slowly opened up the harbor
within the inlet, they could see the pirate sloop lying about three
miles away. There was a boat just putting off from it to the shore.
The lieutenant and his sailing-master stood together on the roof of
the cabin deck-house. The sailing-master held a glass to his eye. “She
carries a long gun, sir,” he said, “and four carronades. She’ll be hard
to beat, sir, I do suppose, armed as we are with only light arms for
close fighting.”
The lieutenant laughed. “Why, Brookes,” he said, “you seem to think
forever of these men showing fight. You don’t know them as I know them.
They have a deal of bluster and make a deal of noise, but when you
seize them and hold them with a strong hand, there’s naught of fight
left in them. ’Tis like enough there’ll not be so much as a musket
fired to-day. I’ve had to do with ‘em often enough before to know my
gentlemen well by this time.” Nor, as was said, was it until the very
last that the lieutenant could be brought to believe that the pirates
had any stomach for a fight.
The two vessels had reached perhaps within a mile of the pirate sloop
before they found the water too shoal to venture any further with sail.
It was then that the boat was lowered as the lieutenant had planned,
and the boatswain went ahead to sound, the two vessels, with their
sails still hoisted but empty of wind, pulling in after with sweeps.
The pirate had also hoisted sail, but lay as though waiting for the
approach of the schooner and the sloop.
The boat in which the boatswain was sounding had run in a considerable
distance ahead of the two vessels, which were gradually creeping up
with the sweeps until they had reached to within less than half a mile
of the pirates—the boat with the boatswain maybe a quarter of a mile
closer. Suddenly there was a puff of smoke from the pirate sloop, and
then another and another, and the next moment there came the three
reports of muskets up the wind.
“By zounds!” said the lieutenant. “I do believe they’re firing on the
boat!” And then he saw the boat turn and begin pulling toward them.
The boat with the boatswain aboard came rowing rapidly. Again there
were three or four puffs of smoke and three or four subsequent
reports from the distant vessel. Then, in a little while, the boat
was alongside, and the boatswain came scrambling aboard. “Never mind
hoisting the boat,” said the lieutenant; “we’ll just take her in tow.
Come aboard as quick as you can.” Then, turning to the sailing-master,
“Well, Brookes, you’ll have to do the best you can to get in over the
shoals under half sail.”
“But, sir,” said the master, “we’ll be sure to run aground.”
“Very well, sir,” said the lieutenant, “you heard my orders. If we run
aground we run aground, and that’s all there is of it.”
“I sounded as far as maybe a little over a fathom,” said the mate, “but
the villains would let me go no nearer. I think I was in the channel,
though. ’Tis more open inside, as I mind me of it. There’s a kind of a
hole there, and if we get in over the shoals just beyond where I was
we’ll be all right.”
“Very well, then, you take the wheel, Baldwin,” said the lieutenant,
“and do the best you can for us.” Lieutenant Maynard stood looking out
forward at the pirate vessel, which they were now steadily nearing
under half-sail. He could see that there were signs of bustle aboard
and of men running around upon the deck. Then he walked aft and around
the cabin. The sloop was some distance astern. It appeared to have
run aground, and they were trying to push it off with the sweeps. The
lieutenant looked down into the water over the stern, and saw that
the schooner was already raising the mud in her wake. Then he went
forward along the deck. His men were crouching down along by the low
rail, and there was a tense quietness of expectation about them. The
lieutenant looked them over as he passed them. “Johnson,” he said, “do
you take the lead and line and go forward and sound a bit.” Then to the
others—“Now, my men, the moment we run her aboard, you get aboard of
her as quick as you can, do you understand? Don’t wait for the sloop or
think about her, but just see that the grappling-irons are fast, and
then get aboard. If any man offers to resist you, shoot him down. Are
you ready, Mr. Cringle?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the gunner.
“Very well, then, be ready, men; we’ll be aboard ‘em in a minute or
two.”
“There’s less than a fathom of water here, sir,” sang out Johnson from
the bows. As he spoke there was a sudden soft jar and jerk, then the
schooner was still. They were aground. “Push her off to the lee there!
Let go your sheets!” roared the boatswain from the wheel. “Push her
off to the lee.” He spun the wheel around as he spoke. A half a dozen
men sprang up, seized the sweeps, and plunged them into the water.
Others ran to help them, but the sweeps only sunk into the mud without
moving the schooner. The sails had fallen off and they were flapping
and thumping and clapping in the wind. Others of the crew had scrambled
to their feet and ran to help those at the sweeps. The lieutenant had
walked quickly aft again. They were very close now to the pirate sloop,
and suddenly some one hailed him from aboard of her. When he turned he
saw that there was a man standing up on the rail of the pirate sloop,
holding by the back-stays. “Who are you?” he called, from the distance,
“and whence come you? What do you seek here? What d’ye mean, coming
down on us this way?”
The lieutenant heard somebody say: “That’s Blackbeard hisself.” And he
looked with great interest at the distant figure.
The pirate stood out boldly against the cloudy sky. Somebody seemed
to speak to him from behind. He turned his head and then he turned
round again. “We’re only peaceful merchantmen!” he called out. “What
authority have you got to come down upon us this way? If you’ll
come aboard I’ll show you my papers and that we’re only peaceful
merchantmen.”
“The villains!” said the lieutenant to the master, who stood beside
him. “They’re peaceful merchantmen, are they! They look like peaceful
merchantmen, with three carronades and a long gun aboard!” Then he
called out across the water, “I’ll come aboard with my schooner as soon
as I can push her off here.”
“If you undertake to come aboard of me,” called the pirate, “I’ll shoot
into you. You’ve got no authority to board me, and I won’t have you do
it. If you undertake it ‘twill be at your own risk, for I’ll neither
ask quarter of you nor give none.”
“Very well,” said the lieutenant, “if you choose to try that, you may
do as you please; for I’m coming aboard of you as sure as heaven.”
“Push off the bow there!” called the boatswain at the wheel. “Look
alive! Why don’t you push off the bow!”
“She’s hard aground!” answered the gunner. “We can’t budge her an inch.”
“If they was to fire into us now,” said the sailing-master, “they’d
smash us to pieces.”
“They won’t fire into us,” said the lieutenant. “They won’t dare to.”
He jumped down from the cabin deck-house as he spoke, and went forward
to urge the men in pushing off the boat. It was already beginning to
move.
At that moment the sailing-master suddenly called out, “Mr. Maynard!
Mr. Maynard! they’re going to give us a broadside!”
Almost before the words were out of his mouth, before Lieutenant
Maynard could turn, there came a loud and deafening crash, and then
instantly another, and a third, and almost as instantly a crackling
and rending of broken wood. There were clean yellow splinters flying
everywhere. A man fell violently against the lieutenant, nearly
overturning him, but he caught at the stays and so saved himself.
For one tense moment he stood holding his breath. Then all about him
arose a sudden outcry of groans and shouts and oaths. The man who had
fallen against him was lying face down upon the deck. His thighs were
quivering, and a pool of blood was spreading and running out from under
him. There were other men down, all about the deck. Some were rising;
some were trying to rise; some only moved.
There was a distant sound of yelling and cheering and shouting. It was
from the pirate sloop. The pirates were rushing about upon her decks.
They had pulled the cannon back, and, through the grunting sound of the
groans about him, the lieutenant could distinctly hear the thud and
punch of the rammers, and he knew they were going to shoot again.
The low rail afforded almost no shelter against such a broadside, and
there was nothing for it but to order all hands below for the time
being.
“Get below!” roared out the lieutenant. “All hands get below and lie
snug for further orders!” In obedience the men ran scrambling below
into the hold, and in a little while the decks were nearly clear except
for the three dead men and some three or four wounded. The boatswain
crouching down close to the wheel, and the lieutenant himself, were the
only others upon deck. Everywhere there were smears and sprinkles of
blood. “Where’s Brookes?” the lieutenant called out.
“He’s hurt in the arm, sir, and he’s gone below,” said the boatswain.
Thereupon the lieutenant himself walked over to the forecastle hatch,
and, hailing the gunner, ordered him to get up another ladder, so that
the men could be run up on deck if the pirates should undertake to
come aboard. At that moment the boatswain at the wheel called out that
the villains were going to shoot again, and the lieutenant, turning,
saw the gunner aboard of the pirate sloop in the act of touching the
iron to the touch-hole. He stooped down. There was another loud and
deafening crash of cannon, one, two, three—four,—the last two almost
together,—and almost instantly the boatswain called out: “’Tis the
sloop, sir! look at the sloop!”
The sloop had got afloat again, and had been coming up to the aid of
the schooner, when the pirates fired their second broadside, now at
her. When the lieutenant looked at her she was still quivering with
the impact of the shot, and the next moment she began falling off to
the wind, and he could see the wounded men rising and falling and
struggling upon her decks.
At the same moment the boatswain called out that the enemy was coming
aboard, and even as he spoke the pirate sloop came drifting out from
the cloud of smoke that enveloped her, looming up larger and larger
as she came down upon them. The lieutenant still crouched down under
the rail, looking out at them. Suddenly, a little distance away, she
came about, broadside on, and then drifted. She was close aboard now.
Something came flying through the air—another and another. They were
bottles. One of them broke with a crash upon the deck. The others
rolled over to the further rail. In each of them a quick-match was
smoking. Almost instantly, there was a flash and a terrific report, and
the air was full of the whizz and singing of broken particles of glass
and iron. There was another report, and then the whole air seemed full
of gunpowder smoke. “They’re aboard of us!” shouted the boatswain,
and even as he spoke, the lieutenant roared out: “All hands to repel
boarders!” A second later there came the heavy, thumping bump of the
vessels coming together.
Lieutenant Maynard, as he called out the order, ran forward through the
smoke, snatching one of his pistols out of his pocket and the cutlass
out of its sheath as he did so. Behind him, the men were coming,
swarming up from below. There was a sudden stunning report of a pistol,
and then another and another, almost together. There was a groan and
the fall of a heavy body, and then a figure came jumping over the
rail, with two or three more directly following. The lieutenant was in
the midst of the gunpowder smoke, when suddenly Blackbeard was before
him. The pirate captain had stripped himself naked to the waist. His
shaggy black hair was falling over his eyes, and he looked like a demon
fresh from the pit, with his frantic face. Almost with the blindness
of instinct, the lieutenant thrust out his pistol, firing it as he did
so. The pirate staggered back: He was down—no; he was up again. He had
a pistol in each hand; but there was a stream of blood running down
his naked ribs. Suddenly, the mouth of a pistol was pointing straight
at the lieutenant’s head. He ducked instinctively, striking upward
with his cutlass as he did so. There was a stunning, deafening report
almost in his ear. He struck again blindly with his cutlass. He saw the
flash of a sword and flung up his guard almost instinctively, meeting
the crash of the descending blade. Somebody shot from behind him, and
at the same moment he saw someone else strike the pirate. Blackbeard
staggered again, and this time there was a great gash upon his neck.
Then one of Maynard’s own men tumbled headlong upon him. He fell with
the man, but almost instantly he had scrambled to his feet again, and
as he did so he saw that the pirate sloop had drifted a little away
from them, and that their grappling-iron had evidently parted. His hand
was smarting as though struck with the lash of a whip. He looked around
him; the pirate captain was nowhere to be seen—yes, there he was,
lying by the rail. He raised himself upon his elbow, and the lieutenant
saw that he was trying to point a pistol at him, with an arm that
wavered and swayed blindly, the pistol nearly falling from his fingers.
Suddenly, his other elbow gave way, and he fell down upon his face. He
tried to raise himself—he fell down again. There was a report and a
cloud of smoke, and when it cleared away Blackbeard had staggered up
again. He was a terrible figure—his head nodding down upon his breast.
Somebody shot again, and then the swaying figure toppled and fell. It
lay still for a moment—then rolled over—then lay still again.
There was a loud splash of men jumping overboard, and then, almost
instantly, the cry of “Quarter! quarter!” The lieutenant ran to the
edge of the vessel. It was as he had thought: the grappling-irons
of the pirate sloop had parted, and it had drifted away. The few
pirates who had been left aboard of the schooner had jumped overboard
and were now holding up their hands. “Quarter!” they cried. “Don’t
shoot!—quarter!” And the fight was over.
The lieutenant looked down at his hand, and then he saw, for the first
time, that there was a great cutlass gash across the back of it, and
that his arm and shirt-sleeve were wet with blood. He went aft, holding
the wrist of his wounded hand. The boatswain was still at the wheel.
“By zounds!” said the lieutenant, with a nervous, quavering laugh, “I
didn’t know there was such fight in the villains.”
His wounded and shattered sloop was again coming up toward him under
sail, but the pirates had surrendered, and the fight was over.
[Illustration: “THE COMBATANTS CUT AND SLASHED WITH SAVAGE FURY.”]