The longer a sensible man lives (for a fool may live and not learn), the
more convinced he will become of the importance of laying a firm
foundation for every undertaking, whether it be a constitution to live
under, or a house to live in, an education for his children, a coat for
his back, shoes for his feet, or a ship to convey himself or his
merchandise from one part of the globe to the other. He learns that it
is wisest and cheapest to have all the materials of the best, to employ
the best workmen, and to pay them the best wages. It is the fashion,
nowadays, to get everything at a price, to which is given the name of
cheap--no matter at what cost or ruin to the consumer as well as the
producer, for both are equally losers--the one from being badly said,
the other from getting a bad article. On every side, one ears the cries
of cheap government, cheap houses, cheap education, and cheap clothing;
and the people are always found ready to offer to supply them. Wiser
than this generation are seamen. They know, from experience, that cheap
clothes and cheap ships do not answer; that both are apt to fail at the
very moment their services are most required; and a good officer,
therefore, spares no expense or trouble in seeing that everything is
good and sound on board his ship, from keelson to truck, below and
aloft. Such a man was our friend Captain Bowse.
The spars and rigging of the _Zodiac_ did full justice to those who
selected the first, and fitted the latter. Not a spar was sprung--not a
strand parted with the tremendous strain put on them. It was almost too
much for the ship, Bowse himself owned. It was taking the wear of years
out of her in a day--as a wild debauch, or any violent exertion, will
injure the human frame, more than years of ordinary toil. Though the
masts stood, the ship, it was very evident, must be strained, from the
way in which she was driven through the water, and made to buffet with
the waves. On rushed the brig.
"That is what I call tearing the marrow out of a body's bones," said
Bill Bullock. "Well, bless the old barkie; there's few could stand it
as she does. I never seed any one carry on so as our skipper does, this
blessed day--no, neither now, nor since the time I first went afloat."
"Nor I neither, old ship," answered Jem. "But for that matter, as the
parson says, there's a time to stay at anchor, and a time to make sail,
and go along as if the devil was a driver--only I do wish that that ere
beggar astern was right ahead now, and that we was a chasin' her, and
every now and then a slappin' at her with our bow-chasers."
"Right, Jem--my sentiments is the same; but if you comes for to go to
look into the rights of the case, like a man should do, why you sees as
how, if she has got twenty guns, which can sink us from where our shot
can't reach 'em, and we has only got four guns, for the Quakers only has
to do when you comes to frighten people at a distance, then you see as
how it's wiser for we to run away, while we has got legs to run with,
than to try to run when we are on our way to the bottom."
"Jobson!" cried the master, addressing the carpenter, who had just
spoken, "sound the well, and see if she's made any water."
Jobson performed his duty, and reported two feet of water in the hold.
"She's made that, sir, though, since we began to carry on. She was as
dry as a cork yesterday," he observed.
"I did not expect less, though," returned the master. "She must be
strong not to let it in faster. We'll sound again in another half
hour."
For the first two or three hours of the chase, it was difficult to
determine whether the stranger gained on them or not: but, by the time
five had passed away, she had clearly come up very much. Bowse looked
at his topmasts and topsail-yards, and then at the lee-scuppers, and
shook his head. He was meditating the possibility of shaking out
another reef. He wished that he could divine some method to induce the
stranger to set more sail; but this hope had failed, for as he was
gaining on them without it, he was not likely to do so. The master
watched him anxiously through his glass. He seemed to stand up well to
his canvas, and there was but little chance of his carrying anything
away. On coming to this conclusion, Bowse began to consider whether it
would not be more prudent to shorten sail himself, so as to be in better
condition to meet the enemy when he should come up--a result which he
feared must, sooner or later, occur. Even should the weather moderate,
the polacca brig would probably have a still greater advantage; but then
again, his principle was to struggle to the last--never to yield to
death or misfortune, while the faintest gasp remains--never to let hope
expire--so he determined still to drive the ship through it. Again the
well was sounded. The water had increased another half foot. The mate
shook his head. Two more anxious hours passed away.
"How much has she gained on us now, Timmins?" answered Bowse, who had
returned from snatching a hasty meal below.
"The best part of half a league at least, sir," answered the mate. "If
she comes up at this rate, she'll be within hail before the first watch
is over to-night. Now, sir, as the carpenter reports the water
increasing fast, and to have to keep the men at the pumps, where they
must go for a spell, will make them unfit to meet the enemy, I venture
to advise that we take the strain off the ship at once. It's clearly
nothing else that makes her leak as she does, and we shall then meet
that fellow by daylight, which I tell you honestly, Captain Bowse, I for
one would rather do."
Bowse listened to his mate's opinion with respect, but he doubted much
whether to act upon it.
"What you say has much reason in it," he answered; "but send the hands
to the pumps first, and we'll judge how they can keep the water under.
If, after they've cleared the ship, it gains upon half the watch, we'll
shorten sail; but if we can easily keep the leaks under, we'll carry on
to the last."
The clank of the pumps was heard amid the roaring of the gale, and the
loud dash of the water over the ship, as the crew performed that most
detested portion of a seaman's duty. The result was watched for with
anxiety by the captain, for he saw that on it depended how soon they
might be brought into action with the pirate. If he could still manage
to keep ahead of him he might induce him to give up the chase; or he
might fall in with a man-of-war, or some armed merchantman, in company
with whom no pirate would dare to attack them. It did occur to him,
that to ease the ship, he might keep her before the wind, and run for
some port on the Italian coast; but there was a wide extent of sea to be
crossed before he could reach it, and the pirate being probably just as
fast off the wind as on it, would still overtake him; and though he
might, as he trusted to do, beat him off, he would be so much further
away from his port.
"Well, what does the carpenter report?" he asked, as the mate appeared,
after the well had been sounded.
"We've gained a foot upon the leaks, sir; but it's hard work to keep
them under, and if I might advise--"
"Please Heaven, we'll carry on, then, on the ship!" exclaimed the
master, interrupting him. "Let half a watch at a time work the pumps.
Before long the weather may moderate."
The day wore on, and the pursuer and the pursued held their course with
little variation. The _Zodiac_ tore her way through the water, and sea
succeeding sea met her persevering bows, and either yielded her a
passage or flew in deluges over her decks. Night came on, and the
stranger was upward of two leagues astern. The mate had before
miscalculated her distance; his anxiety to shorten sail had probably
somewhat blinded him. If the scene on board the _Zodiac_ appeared
terrific during daylight, much more so was it when darkness added its
own peculiar horrors. Still not a sheet nor a tack would the brave
master start, and he resolved, if the gale did not further increase, to
run through the night without shortening sail. He himself set an
example of hardihood and resolution to his crew, for scarcely a moment
did he quit his post during the day, or the dreary hours of the first
watch. As the short twilight disappeared, the stranger grew less and
less distinct, till her shadowy outline could alone be traced, and even
that by degrees vanished from the view of all but the most keen-sighted,
till at last she could nowhere be discerned. An anxious look out was
kept for her; for though shrouded by the obscurity from their sight,
every one on deck felt that she was where she had last been seen, if not
nearer; and some even fancied they could see her looming, surrounded by
a halo of unnatural light, through the darkness.
It was in the first hour of the morning-watch, and neither Bowse nor his
mate, though they swept the sea to the westward with their
night-glasses, could anywhere distinguish her.
"We have done better than we could have hoped for," observed the master.
"It will soon be day, and we then need not fear her."
"It will be more than three good hours yet before we have anything like
daylight," returned the mate; "and that cursed craft may be alongside us
before then."
"Well, we are prepared for her," returned the master.
"I hope so," exclaimed the mate; "for, by Heaven, Captain Bowse, there
she is, well on our weather quarter."
The mate spoke truly. There evidently was a brig, though dimly visible,
hovering, as it were, like a dark spirit, in the quarter he indicated.
The crew soon discovered her also, and if any of them had before felt
inclined to seek rest below, they did so no longer.
Another hour passed away; but the stranger had not altered her position.
There she hung, like a dark shadow, indistinctly visible, yet causing
no doubt of something ominous of evil being there, as some bird of prey
hovering about, ready to pounce down any moment, and destroy them.
The morning light brought the stranger clearly in view, at about the
same distance; and at the same period of time the ship, righting
suddenly from the downward pressure, to which she had been so long
exposed, showed that there was a lull of the wind. It was but
momentarily, for again she heeled over as before. Again, however, she
righted, and this time, her lee scuppers remained for longer free of the
water.
Bowse looked to windward: he was about to order a couple of reefs more
to be shaken out of the topsails, when another violent blast almost laid
her on her beam ends.
The hardy crew, wearied with the unremitting exertions of the night,
looked at each other in despair, as the sea literally washed up the
decks to leeward. A loud crash was heard, and the fore-topmast went
over the side, carrying away the jibboom. It was the last expiring
effort of the gale.
The stranger now shook out all the reefs in her topsails and courses;
but it was soon evident that there was no occasion for her so doing, as
she continued to maintain the exact position she had held when first
seen in the morning.
The forenoon watch had just been set, when Colonel Gauntlett came on
deck.
"A nice night we've had of it, captain," he observed in a tone which
showed but little anxiety on his part. "It was only towards the morning
the infernal hubbub would allow me a moment's sleep. But, hillo! what
have you been doing with your foremast? Why, it's shorn of half its
just proportions. And a pretty work seems to have been going forward on
your deck. Why, I should have thought you had been in action already."
"With the winds and waves we have, sir," answered Bowse. "I wish we
were in a better condition to meet an enemy."
"Well, I wish we were, if there is a prospect of our seeing one again,"
said the colonel. "However, I suppose you've managed to give the go-by
to our friend, the _Flying Dutchman_."
Bowse, whose spirits weariness and anxiety had much lowered, shook his
head, and pointed to the stranger.
"I wish I could say so, Colonel Gauntlett. There she is, as big as
life; and, what is more, may be alongside of us any moment those on
board her may desire."
"Ods life, then we shall have to fight her after all," exclaimed the
colonel, with animation. "It's a pity we didn't have it out yesterday,
and have enjoyed a quiet night's rest after it."
"I wish we had, sir," said the master, his spirits a little cheered by
the colonel's coolness. "We should have had an advantage we shall not
enjoy to-day. She has the weather gauge, and may select her own time to
engage us, and is, I suspect, but waiting till the sea goes down, when
she may run us alongside, and take advantage of the great superiority of
men she has, depend on it, on board her."
"We must see, however, what we can do," replied the colonel. "But,
after all, the fellow may be an Austrian. He has hoisted those
colours."
"Merely to blind us, sir, depend on it," answered the master. "He is
even now edging down upon us."
As he spoke, the stranger at length set his topgallant-sails and royals;
but if his intention was to run alongside, it was frustrated.
The varying wind, which had been gradually lulling, now on a sudden died
away completely, even before the sea created by the gale had had time to
go down, and the two vessels lay rolling from side to side like logs on
the water, without power to progress, just beyond the range of each
other's guns.
Those who have cruised in the Mediterranean Sea must have lively
recollections of the calms which have stopped their onward progress--the
slow rolling of the vessel without any apparent cause, the loud flapping
of the canvas against the masts seemingly feeling anger at its inaction,
the hot sun striking down on the decks and boiling up the pitch in the
seams between the planks, the dazzling glare too bright for the eyes to
endure from the mirror-like surface of the water, and, above all, the
consequent feelings of discontent, lassitude, and weariness.
Notwithstanding the heat and the motion, and the excessive weariness
they felt from their incessant toil, Bowse and his bold crew set
manfully to work to repair the damage the _Zodiac_ had received during
the storm. All hands laboured cheerfully, for they saw that everything
might depend on the speed with which they could get the ship to rights
again. Although the damage on deck was considerable, yet their first
care was to get up a new topmast, and another jib-boom out, for both
which purposes they fortunately had spare ones on board. Bowse had gone
for a minute below, where Timmins speedily followed him.
"A boat shoving off from the polacca brig, sir," said the mate.
He was on deck in a minute; by his glass he saw a six-oared gig rapidly
approaching; she had in the stern-sheets four persons, three of whom
were dressed as officers, and wore cocked hats.
The passengers were on deck, as well as the two mates, watching the
boat.
"I suspect after all we shall find that we were unnecessarily alarmed,
and they will prove very honest gentlemen," observed the colonel.
"I trust they may be," said Ada. "It would be very dreadful to have to
fight."
"I'm afraid there's little honesty either on board the craft or the
boat; for I trust little to the Austrian bunting flying at her peak,"
answered Bowse. "You must not be frightened, young lady, when you see
the men armed. It is safe to be prepared--Mr Timmins, get the
cutlasses and small arms on deck, and send the people to their
quarters--Colonel Gauntlett, I will speak with you, if you please;" and
the master led the colonel aside. "I have to propose a bold plan, and a
dangerous one, should it not succeed; but if it does, I think our safety
is secured. The pirate--for pirate the commander of that brig is, I am
assured--will, I suspect, through audacity or fool-hardiness, venture on
our deck; now, what I propose, if he does, is to entice the rest of the
people on board, and to seize them and their boat, and to hold them as
hostages."
"But suppose they should prove to be really Austrians," urged the
colonel. "It would be an odd way of treating officers who come to pay a
friendly visit; and, seeing there are ten men in the boat, it will not
be quite so easy either."
"No fear of that, sir," answered Bowse; "they venture here because they
don't know what Englishmen are made of. They have been accustomed to
deal with Turks and degenerate Greeks and Italians, and fancy they can
manage us as easy; they come to see the condition we are in. Now, as I
feel certain that boat comes here with the intention and hope of taking
this brig without any resistance, I want to make them fall into their
own trap."
The colonel thought a little time. "Well," he answered, "I do not
dislike your plan on the whole, provided we are sure the fellows intend
us treachery. What part am I to play in it?"
"Why, sir, I want you to hold the chief man of them in conversation,
while I talk to another; for I intend to let only two at a time come on
deck--and then, if we can get them below, we can secure them, and,
before the rest find it out, we will invite two more below, and secure
them. I want you to offer a reason for our carrying so much sail
yesterday and last night, to throw them off their guard, and to make
them suppose we still believe them Austrians."
"But what am I to say about the way we carried sail?" asked the colonel.
"Why, sir, you see, we did not go out of our course, so you can say that
you are in a very great hurry, and insisted on my making more sail,
while, as the ship is bran new, I was not afraid of pleasing you,
particularly as you promised a good round sum more if I got you in
before a certain time."
"The story is plausible, but I am afraid it will not bear looking into,"
observed the colonel; "however, I will play my part as I best can."
"We will not give them time to look into that or anything else," replied
Bowse. "They will observe the loss of caboose and boats, and also of
our bulwarks, it is true; but we must settle them before they have time
to consult about it; or we may point it out to them at once, and tell
them that it happened at the end of the gale, and that it would have
made us shorten sail if the wind had not dropped."
The plan of the master being agreed to, preparations were made to
receive their very doubtful visitors. Ada and her attendant were on the
poop, with Mitchell to guard them. The colonel and master, with the
first mate stood at the gangway, on either side of which were stationed
two of the strongest men in the ship, their cutlasses being concealed.
The second mate, with six other hands, well armed, had orders to rush
aft the moment they were summoned, and to look after the boats and those
who might remain in her, and on no account to let them escape.
By the time all the arrangements were made, the boat was close to.
Bowse examined her carefully. The crew were dressed as European seamen,
and pulled in their fashion, though rather irregularly, and the uniform
of the officers was perfectly correct, as far as he knew.
The boat dashed alongside without hesitation, and two of the officers
sprung up on deck; the rest would have followed, but the two men at the
gangway stopped them, in spite of gesticulations and strenuous
endeavours.
"Messieurs, some one on board, I presume, speaks French?" said the
principal of the two, taking off his cocked-hat, and bowing profoundly,
with a glance towards the poop, where Ada sat.
"_Moi_--I do," answered the colonel, with not the best pronunciation in
the world. "_Que voulez-vous, Messieurs_?"
"I am delighted to find a gentleman with whom I can converse in a common
language. My native German I judged would be hopeless," observed the
officer.
He was a remarkably fine-looking man, with a dark, curling moustache,
and a free, bold manner. Now the colonel had studied German in the
course of his military education, and spoke it well; he therefore
immediately answered in that language.
The officer looked puzzled, and then laughingly said, "Oh! I must
compliment you; but we will speak in French--it is the proper language
for the intercourse of strangers--a mutual ground on which they meet. I
have come to offer the services of my ship's company in putting your
vessel to rights; for I see that she has suffered severely in the gale,
which has just passed."
"Many thanks to you, monsieur," returned the colonel; "but I believe the
crew of the brig are fully competent to perform all the work which is
required; and you see they have already accomplished much of it."
"I see they have been at work; but it will still occupy them much time
to put you to rights," observed the stranger. "You carried on yesterday
and during the night more than I ever saw a vessel do before; and may I
ask why you endeavoured to outsail me as you did yesterday."
"Certainly," returned the colonel; and gave the explanation arranged
with Bowse.
"Ah, it was a pity though, it made me suspicious of you," exclaimed the
officer. "And did you not receive a message by a Sicilian speronara,
which I sent to invite any merchantmen to put themselves under my
protection?"
"Oh! we received it; and though doubts might have occurred, we were
grateful," returned the colonel; then, in a low whisper to Bowse, he
said. "Seize the rascals as soon as you like--we will ask them below."
He then turned back to the officers.
"Will you not come below to take some refreshment? We shall be happy to
offer it also to those in the boat."
The stranger hesitated: at that instant Ada, who had risen to witness
the conference, came to the break of the poop. She had been examining
the countenances of the officers.
"The Prince Caramitzo, I am sure!" she exclaimed.
"Prince! Count Zappa, the pirate, you mean!" cried the colonel,
stamping in a passion.
"It's all discovered then. Seize them my lads!" cried the master,
rushing forward to aid in executing his own order.
"Ah! is it treachery you mean me?" exclaimed the seeming Austrian
officer, dealing the poor master a violent blow. "It is Zappa you see,
and whom you will soon learn to know."
And before any one had time to rush forward and seize him, he, with his
companion, leaped into the boat which, at the same instant, shoved off;
and, with rapid strokes, began to pull away.
"Give them a dose of the carronades!" exclaimed the master; but, before
the guns could be brought to bear, and could be fired, the stranger was
a long way from the ship, and not a shot told. There was thus no longer
any disguise--nor could they, should they be conquered, expect any mercy
at the hands of the pirate.