The Last of my Sworn Enemy
That same day the wind, hitherto mainly from the north'ard, suddenly
changed, and blew freshly from the south-west. Nevertheless, as we
were in the joint current caused by the union of the North
Equatorial and the Canaries' Stream, our progress was slow.
Neither could we hope for long to be favoured by the breeze, as we
were in the zone of the north-east Trades; so Captain Jeremy decided
to skirt the windward side of the Lesser Antilles and the Bahama
Islands, and thus gain the double advantage of the Gulf Stream and
the prevailing south-westerly winds off the coast of North America.
Having progressed thus far, the proposal at one time talked of to
repair to Port Royal was given over, and our first place of call was
to be the Bermudas.
'Enery was now relegated to the post of first mate. He seemed quite
content with the reversal of his position, since he hoped, should he
reach England safely, to purchase an interest in a ship, and sail in
command.
I do not believe that there was a discontented man on the ship.
Thanks to our good fortune, the individual share of the treasure
would be considerable, and everyone was in high glee; and as each
hour brought us nearer to Old England's shores, the men's spirits
rose to such an extent that I wondered what they would be like when
they set foot in Poole once more.
On the third day of our homeward voyage we were sailing close-hauled
on the larboard tack, with the island of Barbuda just visible away
to windward.
The day was hot and sultry, and, the breeze being light, the _Golden
Hope_ was barely doing more than two knots.
Suddenly there was a shout from the look-out on the fo'c'sle that a
small craft was in sight. As this served to break the monotony,
there was a rush for'ard to see what kind of vessel it might be.
"It's a deserted boat," exclaimed Clemens, who had snatched up a
telescope. "At least, I can perceive no one in her."
As the _Golden Hope_ was heading almost straight for the derelict, a
very slight alteration in her course would bring her close
alongside, so Captain Jeremy ordered this to be effected.
"There's a man in her, a-lyin' with his head over the side," shouted
a seaman. "I can see him moving his arm."
"That is so," assented Captain Jeremy, after a prolonged examination
through his glass. "A survivor of some wreck, I expect. Anyway,
he'll be as dead as a marline-spike before we get alongside, if he
remain like that, with the sun pouring on him."
"He's dead, right enough," said 'Enery, after a while. "'Tis the
tossing of the boat that makes him move."
'Enery was right. Hanging over the gunwale, with one arm trailing in
the water, was the corpse of a man. We could not see his face, but
the nape of the neck was blackened from exposure to the sun. The arm
moved sluggishly with every roll of the little craft, giving the
corpse the appearance of being alive.
"Poor fellow! Starved to death, I take it," said Touchstone softly.
"I've seen that sort of thing before to-day. Shall we run alongside,
sir?"
"Aye," replied Captain Jeremy. "We might just as well, in case we
can do anything."
Silence fell upon the crew as the _Golden Hope_ crept slowly towards
the floating monument of an ocean tragedy, till all at once the
master gunner shouted:
"By Jove, that's one of our chests!"
We were now near enough to see over the gunwale as the boat rolled
in the oily swell. Lashed amidships, 'twixt two of the thwarts, was
one of the boxes we had made, ostensibly for the storing of the
_Madre_ treasure. Then, like lightning, the truth flashed across my
mind: I was gazing at the corpse of Ned Slater.
The chest told a silent tale. The villain must have begun loading
the boat directly the _Neptune_ struck the reef; then, seeing that
the ship was doomed, he sprang into the little craft, basely
deserting his companions in crime. By some means the boat had
escaped being swamped, and, offering little resistance to the wind,
had been carried by the current in a northerly direction. When the
gale died away, Slater must have prised open the lid of the chest to
bloat over its contents, only to find a load of stones within.
Either through the fury of his baffled hopes, or through the stern
necessity of lightening the little craft, he had hurled the
valueless cargo overboard, for the chest was empty. Helpless, and
blown far from land, the villain had died a horrible death from slow
starvation.
Springing into the fore chains, 'Enery, with boat-hook in hand,
caught at the gunwale of the boat as it slowly drifted alongside. He
made a sign to a couple of seamen, who, understanding, brought a
heavy shot wrapped up in a piece of canvas. Nimbly dropping into the
boat, one of the men quickly fastened the weight to the body of the
ill-fated wretch; then, staving a plank with an axe, he sprang back
into our fore chains.
'Enery disengaged the boat-hook, and ere the _Golden Hope_ had
drifted clear the boat sank beneath the waters of the Atlantic, and
the body of my father's murderer disappeared from view till the time
when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it.
I was glad that 'Enery had behaved thus. He had acted generously to
the memory of a man who had done his best to raise his hand against
every member of our crew. The rogue had paid the penalty and had
received his deserts, though in my calmer moments I rejoiced that he
had not met his death at my hands.
Soon after this gruesome incident we picked up a steady breeze that
enabled us to make rapid progress, and seven days after leaving
Treasure Island we crossed the Tropic of Cancer.
It was all plain sailing till we were within a few hundred miles of
the Bermudas, when a heavy gale caused the main topmast of the
_Golden Hope_ to spring.
In this crippled condition the brig crawled into the harbour on
whose shores the principal settlements are built, but ere we could
effect repairs an awful hurricane, the worst I have ever met, or
hope to meet, burst over the islands.
The storm came on quite suddenly, and almost before we had time to
strike our still-standing fore-topmast, and veer out all our cable.
Even in the comparatively sheltered harbour where we lay the sea was
churned into a seething cauldron of foam, whilst ashore the damage
was terrific. The lightly built huts of the settlers were unroofed
and most of the trees blown down; and so great was the havoc wrought
that 'twas a matter of difficulty to get our damaged topmast
repaired till nearly six weeks after the storm.
While lying in harbour we learnt from an outward bound West Indiaman
that things at home were in a very unsettled state, for almost all
men were dissatisfied with King James.
Yet--so suspicious had Englishmen become of each other--we could
gather no definite information, though many hints were thrown out
concerning what we might expect to find on our arrival at home.
At length, on the second day of October, 1688, we weighed and set
sail on the last stage of our homeward voyage, and late on the
forenoon of the following day the last of the low-lying Bermudas was
lost to view.
During the next three weeks nothing untoward occurred. The _Golden
Hope_ pursued her course over a seemingly boundless ocean, with
never a sail to break the skyline, till, when, according to our
reckoning, we were within ninety miles of Land's End, I was aroused
just after midnight by the shout:
"A light on the starboard bow."
Gleaming faintly through the darkness, I could distinguish a small
column of flame, apparently ten miles away, which faded and waxed
stronger at close intervals.
"What d'ye make of it, sir?" asked 'Enery, as he and Captain Jeremy
mounted the poop ladder to get a better view of the mysterious
light.
"Make of it? Why, it can be but one thing. 'Tis a ship on fire."