Time reconciles a man to almost anything. In the course of time Martin
Rattler became reconciled to his fate, and went about the ordinary
duties of a cabin-boy on board the Firefly just as if he had been
appointed to that office in the ordinary way,--with the consent of the
owners and by the advice of his friends. The captain, Skinflint by
name, and as surly an old fellow as ever walked a quarter-deck, agreed
to pay him wages, "if he behaved well." The steward, under whose
immediate authority he was placed, turned out to be a hearty,
good-natured young fellow, and was very kind to him. But Martin's great
friend was Barney O'Flannagan, the cook, with whom he spent many an hour
in the night watches, talking over plans, and prospects, and
retrospects, and foreign lands.
As Martin had no clothes except those on his back, which fortunately
happened to be new and good, Barney gave him a couple of blue-striped
shirts, and made him a jacket, pantaloons, and slippers of canvass; and,
what was of much greater importance, taught him how to make and mend the
same for himself.
"Ye see, Martin, lad," he said, while thus employed one day, many weeks
after leaving port, "it's a great thing, intirely, to be able to help
yerself. For my part I niver travel without my work-box in my pocket."
"Your work-box!" said Martin, laughing.
"Jist so. An' it consists of wan sailmaker's needle, a ball o' twine,
and a clasp-knife. Set me down with these before a roll o' canvass and
I'll make ye a'most anything."
"You seem to have a turn for everything, Barney," said Martin. "How
came you to be a cook?"
"That's more nor I can tell ye, lad. As far as I remimber, I began with
murphies, when I was two foot high, in my father's cabin in ould
Ireland. But that was on my own account intirely, and not as a
purfession; and a sorrowful time I had of it too, for I was for iver
burnin' my fingers promiskiously, and fallin' into the fire ivery day
more or less--"
"Stand by to hoist top-gallant-sails," shouted the captain. "How's her
head?"
"South and by east sir," answered the man at the wheel.
"Keep her away two points. Look alive lads. Hand me the glass,
Martin."
The ship was close hauled when these abrupt orders were given, battling
in the teeth of a stiff breeze, off the coast of South America. About
this time, several piratical vessels had succeeded in cutting off a
number of merchantmen near the coast of Brazil. They had not only taken
the valuable parts of their cargoes, but had murdered the crews under
circumstances of great cruelty; and ships trading to these regions were,
consequently, exceedingly careful to avoid all suspicious craft as much
as possible. It was, therefore, with some anxiety that the men watched
the captain's face as he examined the strange sail through the
telescope.
"A Spanish schooner," muttered the captain, as he shut up the glass with
a bang. "I won't trust her. Up with the royals and rig out
stun'-sails, Mr Wilson, (to the mate). Let her fall away, keep her
head nor'-west, d'you hear?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Let go the lee braces and square the yards. Look sharp, now, lads. If
that blackguard gets hold of us ye'll have to walk the plank, every man
of ye."
In a few minutes the ship's course was completely altered; a cloud of
canvass spread out from the yards, and the Firefly bounded on her course
like a fresh race-horse. But it soon became evident that the heavy
barque was no match for the schooner, which crowded sail and bore down
at a rate that bade fair to overhaul them in a few hours. The chase
continued till evening, when suddenly the look-out at the mast-head
shouted, "Land, ho!"
"Where away?" cried the captain.
"Right ahead," sang out the man.
"I'll run her ashore sooner than be taken," muttered the captain, with
an angry scowl at the schooner, which was now almost within range on the
weather quarter, with the dreaded black flag flying at her peak. In a
few minutes breakers were descried ahead.
"D'ye see anything like a passage?" shouted the captain.
"Yes, sir; two points on the weather bow."
At this moment a white cloud burst from the schooner's bow, and a shot,
evidently from a heavy gun, came ricochetting over the sea. It was well
aimed, for it cut right through the barque's main-mast, just below the
yard, and brought the main-top-mast, with all the yards, sails, and
gearing above it, down upon the deck. The weight of the wreck, also,
carried away the fore-top-mast and, in a single instant, the Firefly was
completely disabled.
"Lower away the boats," cried the captain; "look alive, now; we'll give
them the slip yet. It'll be dark in two minutes."
The captain was right. In tropical regions there is little or no
twilight. Night succeeds day almost instantaneously. Before the boats
were lowered, and the men embarked, it was becoming quite dark. The
schooner observed the movement however, and, as she did not dare to
venture through the reef in the dark, her boats were also lowered and
the chase was recommenced.
The reef was passed in safety, and now a hard struggle took place, for
the shore was still far-distant. As it chanced to be cloudy weather the
darkness became intense, and progress could only be guessed at by the
sound of the oars; but these soon told too plainly that the boats of the
schooner were overtaking those of the barque.
"Pull with a will, lads," cried the captain; "we can't be more than half
a mile from shore; give way, my hearties."
"Surely, captain, we can fight them, we've most of us got pistols and
cutlasses," said one of the men in a sulky tone.
"Fight them!" cried the captain, "they're four times our number, and
every man armed to the teeth. If ye don't fancy walking the plank or
dancing on nothing at the yardarm, ye'd better pull away and hold your
jaw."
By this time they could just see the schooner's boats in the dim light,
about half-musket range astern.
"Back you' oars," shouted a stern voice in broken English, "or I blow
you out de watter in one oder moment--black-yards!"
This order was enforced by a musket shot which whizzed over the boat
within an inch of the captain's head. The men ceased rowing and the
boats of the pirate ranged close up.
"Now then, Martin," whispered Barney O'Flannagan, who sat at the bow
oar, "I'm goin' to swim ashore; jist you slip arter me as quiet as ye
can."
"But the sharks!" suggested Martin.
"Bad luck to them," said Barney as he slipped over the side, "they're
welcome to me. I'll take my chance. They'll find me mortial tough,
anyhow. Come along, lad, look sharp!"
Without a moment's hesitation Martin slid over the gunwale into the sea,
and, just as the pirate boats grappled with those of the barque, he and
Barney found themselves gliding as silently as otters towards the shore.
So quietly had the manoeuvre been accomplished, that the men in their
own boat were ignorant of their absence. In a few minutes they were
beyond the chance of detection.
"Keep close to me, lad," whispered the Irishman. "If we separate in the
darkness we'll niver foregather again. Catch hould o' my shoulder if ye
get blowed, and splutter as much as ye like. They can't hear us now,
and it'll help to frighten the sharks."
"All right," replied Martin; "I can swim like a cork in such warm water
as this. Just go a little slower and I'll do famously."
Thus encouraging each other, and keeping close together, lest they
should get separated in the thick darkness of the night, the two friends
struck out bravely for the shore.