I have not yet, however, stated what it was in connection with our
encounter with the _Vestale_ which served to fan my fantastic suspicions
into flame anew, and, I may add too at the same time, mould them into a
more definite shape than they had ever before taken.
It was Richards' peculiar conduct and remarks. He had manifested quite
an extraordinary amount of interest in our _rencontre_ with the
_Vestale_ from the moment of her being first reported from the mast-
head, evidently sharing the hope and belief, which we all at first
entertained, that the strange sail would turn out to be the brig which
had served him so scurvy a trick a few days before.
It was easy to understand the excitement he exhibited so long as this
remained a matter of conjecture, but when the conjecture proved to be
unfounded I fully expected his excitement, if not his interest, would
wane. It did not, however. He borrowed my telescope as soon as the
brig became fully visible from the deck, and, placing himself at an open
port, kept the tube of the instrument levelled at her until her topsails
disappeared below the horizon again. I remained close beside him during
the whole time, and his excitement and perplexity were so palpable that
I could not refrain from questioning him as to the cause.
"I'll tell you, Mr Hawkesley," he replied. "You see that craft there?
Well, I could almost stake my soul that she and the pirate-brig were
built on the same stocks. The two craft are the same size to a ton,
I'll swear that; and they are the same model and the same rig to a
nicety. It's true I was only able to closely inspect the other craft at
night-time, but it was by brilliant moonlight, and I was able to note
every detail of her build, rig, and equipment almost as plainly as I now
can that of the brig before us; and the two are sister-ships. They
carry the same number of guns--ay, even to the long-gun I see there on
the French brig's forecastle. The masts in both ships have the same
rake, the yards the same spread, and the running-gear is rove and led in
exactly the same manner. The only difference I can distinguish between
the two ships is that yonder brig has a broad white ribbon round her,
and a small figure-head painted white, whilst the pirate-craft was
painted black down to her copper, and she carried a large black figure-
head representing a negress with a gaudy scarf wrapped about her waist."
"Um!" I remarked. "Lend me the glass a moment, will you? Thanks!"
The _Vestale_ was, at the moment, just about to cross our fore-foot, and
was therefore about as near to us as she would be at all I focused the
telescope--a fine powerful instrument--upon her, and could clearly see
the weather-stains and the yellowish-red marks of rust in the wake of
her chain-plates upon the broad white ribbon which stretched along her
side. Evidently that band of white paint had been exposed to sun and
storm for many a long day. Then I had a look at her figure-head. It
was a half-length model of a female figure, beautifully carved, less
than life-size, with one arm drooping gracefully downwards, and the
other--the right--outstretched, with a gilded lamp in the right hand.
That, too, was weather-stained, and the gilding tarnished by long
exposure. Those pertinacious, half-formed suspicions, which Richards'
words had stirred into new life were refuted; and yet, as I have said, I
could _not_ shake them off, try as I would, and argue with myself as I
would, that they were utterly ridiculous and unreasonable.
"Look here, Mr Richards," said I; "if you really _are_ as positive upon
this matter as you say, I wish you would speak to Captain Vernon about
it; it might--and no doubt _would_--help us very materially in effecting
the capture of the pirate-brig. We have seen the _Vestale_ twice, and
have had so good an opportunity to note her peculiarities of structure
and equipment that we shall now know her again as far off as we can see
her. If, therefore, we should ever happen to fall in with a brig the
exact counterpart of the _Vestale_ in all respects, except as to the
matters of her figure-head and the painting of her hull, I should think
we may take it for granted that that brig will undoubtedly be the pirate
which destroyed the _Juliet_. And you may depend upon it, my good sir,
that it is that identical craft that the _Vestale_ is now seeking."
"Ye-es, very likely--quite possible," he replied hesitatingly, and
evidently still labouring under the feeling of perplexity I had noticed.
Then, straightening himself up and passing his hand across his
forehead, as though to clear away the mental cobwebs there, he added:
"I'll go and speak to Captain Vernon about it at once."
And away he accordingly walked to carry out his resolve.
We stood on as we were going until eight bells in the afternoon watch
that day, when the ship was hove round on the larboard tack and a course
shaped for Saint Paul de Loando, our skipper having come to the
conclusion that the brig referred to in the _Vestale's_ signal was
undoubtedly the craft which we had been on our way back to the Congo to
look for, and that as, according to the gun-brig's statement, she was no
longer there, we were now free to proceed direct to Saint Paul to land
the burnt-out crew as soon as possible.
We entered the bay--upon the shore of which the town is built--about 10
a.m. on the second day after our last meeting with the _Vestale_, and,
anchoring in ten fathoms, lowered a boat, in which Mr Richards and his
crew were landed, Captain Vernon going on shore with them. The skipper
remained on shore until 4 p.m., and when he came off it was easy to see
that he was deeply preoccupied. The boat was at once hoisted in, the
messenger passed, the anchor hove up, and away we went again, crowding
sail for the Congo. As soon as the ship was clear of the Loando reef
and fairly at sea once more, Captain Vernon summoned the first and
second lieutenants to his cabin, where the three remained closeted with
him for some time, indeed the two officers dined with him; but, whatever
the matter might be, neither Mr Austin nor Mr Smellie let fall a word
as to its nature, though it was evident from their manner that it was
deemed of considerable import.
When I turned in that night I felt very greatly dissatisfied with
myself. Those outrageous suspicions, upon which I have dwelt so much in
the last few pages, seemed to be gathering new strength every day in
spite of my utmost endeavours to dissipate them, and that, too, without
the occurrence of anything fresh to confirm them. I accordingly took
myself severely to task; subjected myself to a rigid self-examination,
looking the matter square in the face; and the conclusions to which I
came were--first, that I had allowed myself to be deluded into the
belief that the _Vestale_ herself was the craft which had committed the
act of piracy of which poor Richards and his crew were the victims; and
second, that I had been an unmitigated idiot for suffering myself to be
so deluded. On going thoroughly over the whole question I was forced to
admit to myself that there was not a particle of evidence incriminating
the French gun-brig save what I had manufactured out of my own too vivid
imagination; and I clearly foresaw that unless I could get rid of, or,
at all events, conquer, this hallucination, I should be doing or saying
something which would get me into a serious scrape. And, having at last
thus settled the question--as I thought--to my own satisfaction, I
rolled over in my hammock and went to sleep.
The breeze held fresh during the whole of that night; and the _Daphne_
made such good progress that by eight o'clock on the following morning
we found ourselves once more abreast of Padron Point at the entrance to
the Congo. Sail was now shortened; the ship hove-to, and the men sent
to their breakfasts; the officers also being requested to get theirs at
the same time.
At 8:30 the hands were turned up, the main topsail filled, and, under
topsails, jib, and spanker, and with a leadsman in the fore-chains on
each side, the sloop proceeded boldly to enter the river, under the
pilotage of the master, who stationed himself for the purpose on the
fore-topsail yard. This was a most unusual, almost an un-heard-of,
proceeding at that time, the river never having been, up to that period,
properly surveyed; so we came to the conclusion that there was something
to the fore a trifle out of the common; a conclusion which was very
fully verified a little later on.
It was just low water as we came abreast of Shark Point--which we passed
at a distance of about a mile--but we found plenty of water everywhere;
and, stretching across the river's mouth, the _Daphne_ finally entered
Banana Creek, and anchored in six fathoms close to a smart-looking
little barque of unquestionable American nationality. The sails were
furled, the yards squared, ropes coiled down, and decks cleared up; and
then the first cutter was piped away, Mr Smellie at the same time
receiving a summons to the skipper's cabin.
The conference between the captain and the second lieutenant was but a
short one; and when the latter again appeared on deck he beckoned me to
him and instructed me to don my dirk, as I was to accompany him on a
visit to the barque. Just as we were about to go down over the side
Captain Vernon appeared on deck, and, addressing the second "luff,"
said.
"Whatever you do, Mr Smellie, keep my caution in mind, and do not
provoke the man. Remember, that if he _is_ an American--of which I have
very little doubt--we cannot touch him, even if he has his hold full of
slaves; so be as civil to him as you can, please; and get all the
information you can out of him."
"Ay, ay, sir; I'll do my best to stroke his fur the right way, never
fear," answered Smellie laughingly; and away we went.
A couple of minutes later we shot alongside the barque; and Smellie and
I clambered up her side-ladder to the deck, where we were received by a
lanky cadaverous-looking individual arrayed in a by no means spotless
suit of white nankin topped by a very dilapidated broad-brimmed Panama
straw-hat.
"Mornin', gentlemen," observed this individual, in response to our
salutation; "powerful hot; ain't it?"
"Very," returned Smellie in his most amicable manner, "but"--pointing to
the awning spread fore and aft, "I see you know how to make yourselves
comfortable. Your ship, I observe, is called the _Pensacola_ of New
Orleans. I have come on board to go through the formality of looking at
your papers. You have no objection, I presume?"
"Nary objection, stranger. Look at 'em and welcome," was the reply. "I
guess I'll have to trouble you to come below, though."
With this he led the way down the companion-ladder, and we followed;
eventually bringing-up on the comfortably-cushioned lockers of a fine
spacious airy cabin very nicely fitted up.
Seating himself opposite us, the skipper struck a hand-bell which stood
on the cabin table; in response to which summons a black steward, clad,
like his master, in dingy white, made his appearance from the
neighbouring pantry. Our host thereupon formed his right hand into the
shape of a cup and raised it to his mouth, at the same time exhibiting
three fingers of his left hand; and the steward, nodding and grinning
his comprehension of the mute order, withdrew, to reappear next moment
with a case-bottle of rum, three glasses, and a water-monkey, or porous
earthen jar, full of what proved, on our pouring it out, to be a very
doubtful-looking liquid.
"Help yourselves, gentlemen," said our host, pushing the rum-bottle and
water-monkey towards us. "I ain't got no wine aboard to offer you, but
the liquor is real old Jamaica, and the water is genuine Mississippi;
they make a first-grade mixture. But perhaps you prefer to take your
liquor `straight;' I always do."
And he forthwith practically illustrated the process of taking liquor
"straight" by half-filling his tumbler with neat rum, which he swallowed
at a single gulp. He then rose and retired to his state-room in search
of his papers; leaving us to sip our five-water grog meanwhile.
The papers were produced, examined, and found to be perfectly correct;
after which Smellie set himself to the task of "pumping" our new
acquaintance; without much result, though we certainly managed to obtain
one bit of valuable information from him.
"Whether there's slavers or no in this rivulet, I'll just leave you to
find out, stranger," he remarked, in answer to a question of Smellie's;
"I'm here about my own business, and you're here about yourn; you can't
interfere with me; and I won't interfere with you. But I don't mind
tellin' you that if you'd been here five days ago you'd have had a
chance of nabbin' the _Black Venus_, the smartest slaver, I guess,
that's ever visited this section of our sublunary sphere."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Smellie eagerly. "What sort of a craft is she?
What is she like?"
"She is a brig,"--I pricked up my ears at this, and so, too, I could
see, did Smellie--"of about three hundred tons register; long, and low
in the water; mounts fourteen guns, seven of a side, and a long 32-
pounder on her forecastle. Has very tall sticks, with a rake aft; and a
tremendous spread of `caliker.' And she's the fastest craft in all
creation. _Your_ ship looks as if she could travel; but I 'low she
ain't a carcumstance to the _Black Venus_."
"How is she painted?" asked Smellie. "Is she all black, or does she
sometimes sport a white riband?"
"Aha!" thought I; "that looks as though my suspicions are at last shared
by somebody else. Richards' communication to the skipper has surely
borne fruit."
"Wall," replied the Yankee with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "_when she
sailed from here_ she was black right down to her copper. But that
ain't much to go by; I guess her skipper knows a trick or two."
"You think, then, he might alter her appearance as soon as he got
outside?" insinuated Smellie.
"He might--and he mightn't," was the cautious reply.
"Um!" observed Smellie. Then, as if inspired with a sudden suspicion,
he asked:
"Have you seen any men-o'-war in here lately?"
I could see by the knowing look in our Yankee friend's eyes that he read
poor Smellie like a book.
"Wall," he replied. "Come to speak of it, there _was_ a brig in here a
few days ago that looked like a man-o'-war. She were flyin' French
colours--when she flew any at all--and called herself the _Vestale_."
"Ah!" ejaculated Smellie. "Did any of her people board you?"
"You bet!" was the somewhat ambiguous answer. Not that the reply was at
all ambiguous in itself; it was the peculiar emphasis with which the
words were spoken, and the peculiar expression of the man's countenance
as he uttered them, which constituted the ambiguity; the _words_ simply
implied that the _Pensacola_ had been boarded; the _look_ spoke volumes,
but the volumes were written in an unknown tongue, so far as we at least
were concerned.
"What is the _Vestale_ like?" was Smellie's next question.
"Just as like the _Black Venus_ as two peas in a pod," was the reply,
given with evident quiet amusement.
"And how was _she_ painted?" persisted Smellie. "Ah, there now,
stranger, you've puzzled me!" was the unexpected answer.
"Why? Did you not say you saw her?" queried Smellie sharply.
"No, I guess not; I didn't say anything of the sort. I was ashore when
her people boarded me. It was my mate that told me about it."
"Your mate? Can we see him?" exclaimed Smellie eagerly.
"Yes, I reckon," was the reply. "He's ashore now; but you've only to
pull about five miles up the creek, and I calculate you'll find him
somewheres."
"Thanks!" answered Smellie. "I'm afraid we can't spare the time for
that. Can you tell me which of the two brigs--the _Vestale_ or the
_Black Venus_--sailed first from the river?"
"Wall, stranger, I'd like to help you all I could, I really would; but,"
with his hand wandering thoughtfully over his forehead, "I really
_can't_ for the life of me remember just now which of 'em it was."
The fellow was lying; I could see it, and so could Smellie; but we could
not, of course, tell him so; and we accordingly thanked him for his
information and rose to go, with an uncomfortable feeling that we had
received certain information, part of which was probably true whilst
part was undoubtedly false, and that we were wholly without the means of
distinguishing the one from the other.
We returned to the _Daphne_ with our information, such as it was; and
Smellie at once made his report to the skipper. A consultation followed
in which the first lieutenant took part, and at the end of half an hour
the three officers reappeared on deck, and the captain's gig was piped
away.
Being suspicious, as I have already remarked, that something unusual was
brewing, I remained on deck during the progress of this conference, so
as to be at hand in the event of my services being required; and the
_Pensacola_ happening to be the most prominent object in the landscape,
she naturally came in for a large share of my attention during the
progress of the discussion above referred to. She was flying no colours
when we anchored in such close proximity to her, a circumstance which I
attributed to the fact that she was, to all appearance, the only vessel
in the river, and I was, therefore, not much surprised when, a short
time after our visit to her, I observed her skipper go aft and run up
the American ensign to his gaff-end. But I _was_ a little surprised
when he followed this up by hoisting a small red swallow-tailed flag to
his main-royal-mast-head. I asked myself what could be the meaning of
this move on his part, and it did not take me very long to arrive at the
conclusion that it was undoubtedly meant as a signal of some sort to
somebody or other. He was scarcely likely to do such a thing for the
gratification of a mere whim. And if it was a signal, what did it
mean's and to whom was it made? There was of course the possibility
that it was a prearranged signal to his absent mate; but, taken in
conjunction with the fact that it was exhibited almost immediately after
our visit to his ship, coupled with the other fact of his obvious
attempt to keep us in the dark with respect to certain matters, I was
greatly disposed to regard it rather as a warning signal to a vessel or
vessels concealed in one or other of the numerous creeks which we knew
to exist in our immediate vicinity. Accordingly, on the reappearance of
the second lieutenant on deck, I stepped up to him and directed his
attention to the suspicious-looking red flag, and mentioned my surmises
as to its meaning.
"Thank you, Mr Hawkesley," said he. "I have no doubt it _is_ a signal
of some kind; but what it means we have no possible method of
ascertaining, and, moreover, it suits our purpose just now to take no
notice of it. By the way, are you anything of a shot?"
"Pretty fair," I replied. "I can generally bring down a bird upon the
wing if it is not a very long shot."
"Then put your pistols in your belt, provide yourself with a fowling-
piece (I will lend you one), and be in readiness to go with us in the
gig. We are bound upon a sporting expedition."
I needed no second invitation, but hurried away at once to make the
necessary preparations; albeit there was a something in Mr Smellie's
manner which led me to think that sport was perhaps after all a mere
pretext, and that the actual object of our cruise was something much
more serious.
A few minutes sufficed to complete my preparations, and when I again
stepped on deck, gun in hand, Captain Vernon and Mr Smellie were
standing near the gangway rather ostentatiously engaged--in full view of
the American skipper--in examining their gun-locks, snapping off caps,
and so on; whilst the steward was in the act of passing down over the
side--with strict injunctions to those in the boat to be careful in the
handling of it--a capacious basket of provisions with a snow-white cloth
protruding out over its sides. The precious basket being at length
safely deposited in the gig's stern-sheets, I followed it down the side;
the second lieutenant came next, and the skipper bringing up the rear,
we hoisted our lug-sail, the sea-breeze blowing strongly up the river,
and shoved off; our motions being intently scrutinised by the Yankee
skipper as long as we could make him out.
We had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile before a noble crane came
sailing across our course with his head tucked in between his shoulders,
his long stilt-like legs projecting astern of him, and his slowly-
flapping wings almost touching the water at every stroke.
"There's a chance for you, Hawkesley," exclaimed our genial second luff;
"let drive at him. All is fish that comes to our net so long as we are
within range of the Yankee's telescope; fire at everything you see."
I raised my gun, pulled the trigger, and down dropped the crane into the
water with a broken wing.
"Very neatly done," exclaimed the skipper approvingly. "Pick up the
bird, Thomson,"--to the coxswain.
The unfortunate bird was duly picked up and hauled into the boat, though
not without inflicting a rather severe wound with its long sharp beak on
the hand of the man who grasped it; and we continued our course.
On reaching the mouth of the creek we hauled sharp round the projecting
point, and shaped a course up and across toward the opposite side of the
stream, steering for a low densely-wooded spit which jutted out into the
river some eight miles distant. The tide, which was rising, was in our
favour, and in an hour from the time of emerging from the creek into the
main stream we had reached our destination; the boat shot into a water-
way about a cable's length in width, the sail was lowered, the mast
unstepped, and the men, taking to their oars, proceeded to paddle the
boat gently up the creek.
We proceeded up this creek a distance of about two miles, when, coming
suddenly upon a small branch, or tributary, well suited as a place of
concealment for the boat, she was headed into it, and--after proceeding
along the narrow canal for a distance of perhaps one hundred yards--
hauled alongside the bank and secured.