THE VOYAGE, A PIRATE, CHASE, WRECK, AND ESCAPE
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 canvas; 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 sail-maker's needle, a ball o' twine,
and a clasp-knife. Set me down with these before a roll o' canvas and
I'll make you 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 feet 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'ye 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
canvas 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 yard-arm, 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. Til 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 forgather 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.