MR. PETER FORBES MOURNS HIS NEPHEW
IT seems a long time, in the course of this story, since the honorable
Secretary of the Council, Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, was forced to sail
in to Charles Town from the _Plymouth Adventure_ on that most
humiliating errand of finding medicines for Blackbeard's fever-smitten
rogues. For the sake of his own dear nephew and the other hostages
detained on board, he had endeavored to perform his bargain and was
returning across the bar when the threatening clouds and other portents
of a violent storm caused the seamen to lose heart. They put about and
drove back into the harbor for shelter in the very nick of time.
These were pirates from Blackbeard's crew, it may be recalled, with his
grizzled, scarred boatswain at the tiller. They had felt safe enough to
swagger and ruffle it through the streets of Charles Town and to terrify
the people. Their worthless lives were protected by the hostages who
waited in fear and trembling. The town seethed with indignation and was
hot with shame. There would be no more of the friendly traffic with
pirates.
It was fully believed that the wretched Blackbeard would be as good as
his word in allowing no more than two days' grace. Therefore when Mr.
Peter Forbes came back in the boat to inform his neighbors that he had
been unable to reach the ship, it was sadly taken for granted that those
helpless passengers had been put to death. Forthwith the pirates of the
boat's crew were seized and thrown in gaol. There they lay in double
irons until the Council met and ordered them to be tried. In accordance
with the verdict the six seamen and the boatswain were promptly hanged
by the neck from the same gallows at White Point hard by the town. And
the people no longer shivered at the name of Blackbeard nor feared his
vengeance. Their fighting blood was thoroughly aroused.
Not long after this, there arrived from England a new Governor of the
Province, a man of honor and resolution who approved what had been done.
This Governor Johnson proceeded to organize the town for defense,
building batteries on Sullivan's Island, recruiting the seafaring men in
the militia, and seeking to obtain merchant vessels which could be
employed as armed cruisers. Learning that the Governor of North Carolina
was in a corrupt partnership with pirates, he sent messages to Virginia
to solicit coöperation.
This activity made much work for Secretary Peter Forbes who forsook his
intention of going to England to beg the coöperation of his Majesty's
Government against the plague of pirates. Dapper and plump and
important as of yore, his florid face was clouded with sorrow and he
seemed a much older man. He mourned his nephew, Jack Cockrell, as no
more and felt as though he had lost an only son. Every angry word he had
ever addressed the lad, every hasty punishment inflicted, hurt him
grievously.
It was a solace to talk with winsome Dorothy Stuart because hers was the
bright optimism of youth and she held so exalted an opinion of Jack's
strength and courage that she refused to abandon hope. And the fact that
he had confided to her his rash intention of running away and signing as
a pirate sooner than be transported to school in England, persuaded her
that he might be alive.
"From what you saw yourself, Mr. Forbes," said she, "when Blackbeard
boarded the _Plymouth Adventure_ with his dreadful men, our Jack won his
fancy."
"So it appeared, Dorothy. The boy boasted of knocking a tall pirate on
the head, and he read this monster of a pirate more shrewdly than I.
Yes, Blackbeard took it with rough good humor. But Jack would ne'er
consent to sail with him. 'Twas that confounded Stede Bonnet with his
gallant air that turned the lad's head. He cast a glamor over this trade
of murder and pillage."
"Be that as it may," returned Dorothy, with a sigh and a smile, "I
confess to a romantic admiration for this bold Captain Bonnet. He wears
an air of mystery which is most becoming. We must not blame poor Jack."
"No, no, I am done with all that," hastily exclaimed Uncle Peter. "All I
dare hope is that when Blackbeard is captured, we may learn what fate
befell the boy. It makes the torture worse to have him vanish without
trace."
"And yet I have faith the sea will give him back to us, Mr. Forbes. He
will find you a chastened guardian, not so apt to box his ears."
Uncle Peter was so distressed by this gentle raillery that the girl
begged pardon and vowed that she would never again offend. It so
happened that they were sitting together in Parson Throckmorton's garden
a day or so after this when a friend came running in with tidings the
most unexpected and incredible. A negro slave had come from a plantation
a few miles inland and he bore a letter written by none other than
Captain Jonathan Wellsby of the _Plymouth Adventure_. It narrated how he
and the survivors of his ship had journeyed that far after weeks of
suffering and frequent skirmishes with Indians. They were compelled to
rest and take shelter before undertaking the last stage of the journey.
Councilor Peter Forbes was magically changed. He shed his dignity and
threw his hat in air. Clasping Miss Dorothy's slender waist, he planted
a kiss on her damask cheek. Parson Throckmorton was ramming snuff into
his nostrils, his wig all awry, while he sneezed trumpet blasts of
rejoicing.
"Survivors? _Kerchooh!_ God bless me, that lusty stripling will be
amongst them,--_kerchooh_,--he can survive anything but Greek and
Latin,--_kerchooh_,--I will spare the rod in future."
"I told you so, Uncle Peter Forbes," laughed Dorothy.
"Not so fast," quoth he, in a mood suddenly sobered. "Captain Wellsby
includes no list of those in his party."
"But, of course, one of them is _sure_ to be Master Jack," she insisted.
"I am a selfish man and a laggard officer of the Crown," he exclaimed
with air of great self-reproach. "There are women in that company and
wounded men, no doubt. We must take them clothing, horses, food, a
surgeon."
He bustled off to the Governor's house to find that energetic gentleman
absent at Sullivan's Island. Acting for him, the Secretary of the
Council sent the town crier to summon all good citizens to the tavern
green. In the space of an hour the men and supplies were assembled and
with Mr. Forbes in command the band of mercy made haste to reach the
plantation. During the march there was a buzz of anxious surmise. Was
this one and that alive or dead? Had the hostages been slain and were
these the sailormen of the _Plymouth Adventure_ who had been set adrift
by Blackbeard? Councilor Forbes winced at hearing such talk as this, but
his heart beat high nevertheless, so confident was he that he was about
to behold his manly nephew.
There was loud cheering when they came to the cleared land of the indigo
fields and saw a tattered British ensign fluttering from the log
stockade which enclosed the huts of the overseer and his laborers. In
the gateway appeared the stalwart figure of Captain Wellsby in ragged
garments and with a limping gait. Other men crowded behind him and
responded with huzzas which were like a feeble echo. The friends from
Charles Town rushed forward to embrace them, loudly demanding to know
where the rest were.
"We fetched the women safe through," answered Captain Wellsby whose eyes
were sunken and the brown beard streaked with gray. "Twelve good men of
my crew are dead, and three of the gentlemen passengers. The swamps took
toll of some and the Indians slew the others. We were besieged a
fortnight by the Yemassees,--a hard experience all of it, and wondrous
luck to have escaped----"
Councilor Forbes delayed while his companions entered the huts to attend
the invalids. He struggled to ask a question but his voice was beyond
control.
"I understand," kindly spoke the shipmaster. "Your lad is not with us,
nor can I say if he be dead or alive."
"The Indians carried him off?" weakly inquired the uncle.
"No, he was never seen after we abandoned ship. Your Jack and a chum of
his from Blackbeard's crew were for making the beach on a small raft of
their own contrivance. This was after nightfall, Councilor, and what
with a land'ard breeze and a crotchety set of the tide amongst the
shoals, they floated out to sea."
"On a small raft," muttered Mr. Forbes, "and a vast ocean. I know of no
ship voyaging to or from these ports which might have found them."
"I was in hopes of hearing news of the lads from you," sorrowfully said
the shipmaster. "There is the chance, tiny though it be, that they were
sighted by some vessel bound to foreign parts, across the Western
Ocean."
The uncle shook his head in a manner profoundly dejected. There were
duties which summoned him and he choked down his own grief, turning from
the sympathetic mariner to minister to those in distress. Horse litters
were soon ready for the exhausted but heroic women who had been kept
alive by the devotion of the noble British seamen in accordance with the
traditions of the merchant service. Those unable to walk farther were
placed in carts. Clothed and fed, the sailors were in blithe spirits and
talked of going to sea again as soon as they could find a ship.
In the crowd which met them on the outskirts of the Charles Town
settlement was Dorothy Stuart. She scanned the straggling column and
then ran from one cart to another. It was impossible to convince her
that Jack Cockrell was not there. But when she heard from Uncle Peter
the news that Jack was missing but not surely dead, her faith burned
anew, triumphant over fact and reason.
"See how the great storm came to save him from Blackbeard," she cried,
her hand nestling in Uncle Peter's arm. "And look how he came unscathed
through that bloody battle with the pirates in the _Plymouth Adventure_.
Why, a cruise on a raft is merely a frolic after all that."
"I would not discourage your dear dreams, sweet maid," was the gentle
response. "And may they be truer than my own forebodings."
Charles Town was more than ever resentful when it learned from these
poor people how the pirate sailing-master, Ned Rackham, had plotted to
get rid of them and how mournful had been their sufferings after the
shipwreck. The one boat left to them had been too rotten to send along
the coast and they had plunged into a wilderness almost impassable.
Meanwhile Governor Johnson, stirred by this episode, had received word
that the province of Virginia was both ready and anxious to join in an
expedition against Blackbeard. Governor Spottswood of Virginia would be
outfitting such craft as he could get together in the James River while
he awaited a reinforcement from Charles Town.
The best vessel available for immediate use was a small brigantine, the
_King George_. There was no lack of eager seamen when Councilor Forbes
and Colonel Stuart proclaimed the muster on the tavern green. Among
those selected were several of Captain Jonathan Wellsby's sailors who
were primed to fight even though there was not much flesh on their
bones. He himself was a forlorn mariner who had lost his good ship and
found no joy in life. With a grim smile of gratitude he accepted the
invitation to go as master of the _King George_, with Colonel Stuart as
a sea soldier to drill the men and lead them in action.
It was while they were slinging guns aboard the brigantine that some of
the men happened to notice a small boat coming into the harbor under a
rag of sail. At first it was taken for a fishing craft and there was no
comment until it was quite close. Then they saw that it was a ship's
jolly-boat much the worse for wear, with only two occupants. These were
half-naked lads, burned black to the waist, with a queer kind of canvas
head-gear as a protection against the sun.
The boat was steered to pass under the stern of the _King George_ and
the crew was unable to fathom if these were pirates or victims of
another shipwreck. Captain Wellsby solved it by shouting:
"Both your guesses are right! One is the pirate younker that served our
cause in the _Plymouth Adventure_ and t'other is Master Jack Cockrell!"
One of the Charles Town volunteers heard only the word _pirate_ and
growled, with an oath:
"One o' Blackbeard's spawn? We'll make precious short work of him. Hand
me a musket and I will save trouble for the hangman."
"Here, stop that," said Captain Wellsby, beckoning his own men. "You old
_Adventure_ hands know better. Quell these lubbers. If there's to be
hostile feeling ashore I shall take this lad aboard under my own
protection."
During this argument the sea-worn pilgrims in the jolly-boat had
recognized the shipmaster and were joyfully yelling at him. In response
to his gesture, they pulled down the sail and rowed to the gangway of
the brigantine. There was no need to fear the wrath of the Charles Town
seamen, because the _Adventure_ hands stood by as a guard while they
explained how this young Joe Hawkridge had valiantly helped to turn the
tide of battle against the prize crew of pirates. And there was such a
rousing welcome for Master Cockrell that all else was forgotten. His old
shipmates fairly mobbed him.
"I will fire a gun and hoist all the bunting to signal the town," cried
the skipper, his face shining. "And presently I'll send you to the wharf
in my own boat, but first tell me, boys, who took you off the little
raft and whence come you in this ship's boat?"
"Blackbeard rescued us. And we borrowed the boat from him," demurely
answered Jack, watching the effect of this bombshell of a sensation.
"_Blackbeard!_" echoed the bedazed shipmaster and the others chimed it
like a chorus.
"Aye, old Buckets o' Blood hisself," grinned Joe Hawkridge. "We had him
tamed proper when we parted company. First we chased him through a swamp
till his tongue hung out and left him mired to the whiskers. Then for
another lark we scared him in his own ship so he begged us on his knees
to forbear. We learned Cap'n Ed'ard Teach his manners, eh, Jack?"
This was too much for the audience which stood agape. A dozen voices at
once implored enlightenment. With a lordly air for a youth whose costume
was mostly one leg of his breeches, Master Cockrell reproved them to
wit:
"Captain Stede Bonnet was more courteous to our distress when we sailed
with him. He gave us a thumping big breakfast."
"Right-o," declared Joe. "'Tis our custom to spin strange yarns for
clothes and vittles in payment."
The men scampered to the galley and pantry but refused to let Captain
Wellsby carry these rare entertainers into the cabin. Graciously they
sketched the chief events, omitting all mention of the treasure chest,
and Jack explained in conclusion:
"And so I was stricken homesick, like an illness, and Joe had his fill
of pirates, too. The wind was wrong to rejoin Captain Bonnet in the
Inlet harbor after we shipped as ghosts in the jolly-boat, and we had a
mariner's chart of the Carolina coast and----"
"But what did you do for subsistence?" broke in Captain Wellsby.
"Food and water?" answered Joe. "Oh, we landed when the thirst plagued
us too bad. And there was rain to fill a bight of the sail and a
pannikin to save it in."
"And we lived on oysters mostly," said Jack, "and Joe killed a fat
opossum with a club, and we caught some fish in a net which I knotted
from a ball of marline that was in the boat. And we foraged for pawpaws
and persimmons."
"And whenever the breeze was fair we put to sea again," said Joe, "and
it was a long and weary voyage, though not so many leagues on the
chart."
The captain's boat was ready and they tumbled in, two wayfarers of the
sea who were as lean and sun-dried as the buccaneers of old Trimble
Rogers' fond memories. Hardships had seasoned and weathered them like
good ash staves. On the wharf was Uncle Peter Forbes and Governor
Johnson and a concourse of townspeople drawn by the joyous signals flown
from the brigantine. Jack looked in vain for Dorothy Stuart and was
thankful that her welcome was deferred. Shears and a razor and
Christian raiment would make him look less like a savage from the coast
of Barbary.
Uncle Peter wasted a vast deal of pity, thinking the castaways too weak
and wasted to walk. Jack strode along with him, the crowd at their
heels, and soon had the plump Councilor puffing for breath. They
insisted on taking Joe Hawkridge with them although he was for seeking
lodgings at the tavern. He was one of the household, declared Mr.
Forbes, while Jack warned him to beware of impertinence lest he be
sentenced to chop wood for the kitchen fire.
The neighbors and friends, as curious as they were joyful, were barred
from the house while the lads talked and Uncle Peter carefully made
notes of it all. It was too much for him to realize that Jack was
sitting there lusty and laughing and with the dutifully respectful
manner as of yore, in spite of the man's part he had played to the hilt.
Of all the exploits, that which most fascinated Mr. Peter Forbes was the
chase after Blackbeard's sea-chest weighty with treasure and the
discovery of the knoll in the Cherokee swamp where he might have buried
other booty. Here was a picaresque romance which allured the methodical
barrister and Councilor and he was as boyishly excited as his nephew. He
examined the chart which Jack had copied from his rude sketch made on a
piece of bark and this raised a question which he was quick to ask:
"What of Bill Saxby and this old bloodhound of a Trimble Rogers? As
soon as Stede Bonnet could get the _Revenge_ to sea, I have no doubt he
sailed to Cape Fear River to get these pirate comrades of yours and the
seamen he left to find them. Once aboard, they would urge Bonnet to
return to Cherokee Inlet and let them go hunt the treasure."
"That may be, but we can trust them to deal fair by us," replied Jack.
"Possibly," was the skeptical comment. Mr. Forbes was not too ready to
believe in honest pirates.
"I'm not sure Cap'n Bonnet had a mind to bother with this treasure
hunting," suggested Joe Hawkridge. "Leastwise, he may ha' put it off to
an easier day. He has friends that keep him well informed, such as the
Governor of North Carolina at Bath Town. And all this flurry against
piratin', here and in Virginia, 'ud be apt to make Cap'n Bonnet wary of
bein' trapped on the coast."
"Joe is full of wisdom, as usual," said Master Cockrell. "And if
Blackbeard has cruised to the Spanish Main, as we suspect, the treasure
may lie undisturbed for a while."
"Concerning Blackbeard, the evidence then in hand warranted your
conclusions," was Uncle Peter's judicial comment, "but I have received
later information. The rumor is, and well-founded, that he turned his
ship and made for the Pamlico River with the intention of obtaining
pardon from the false and greedy Governor Eden. This would baffle our
plans against him, or so he would assume. And it would enable him to
remain within convenient distance of his treasure."
"Would this Province and Virginia respect such a pardon as that?"
queried Jack.
"Not in the case of Blackbeard," snapped the Councilor, "because we know
it would be violated as soon as this treacherous villain could safely
return to his piracies."
"Then Joe and I will enlist in the _King George_ brigantine," cried
Jack. "Captain Wellsby tells me she will sail for Virginia inside the
week."
Uncle Peter was about to make violent protest but he checked himself and
his emotions were torn betwixt pride and yearning affection. He could
not bear to let his nephew go so soon to new perils, but what right had
he to try to shield him when the public duty called? It was idle to
pretend that Jack was too young and tender to embark on such service as
this. He was fitter for it than some of the other volunteers. And so the
unhappy Uncle Peter walked the floor with his cheeks puffed out and his
hands clasped behind him and said, with a tremulous sigh:
"I swore to treat you no more as a child, Jack. 'Tis right and natural
for you to desire to go in the _King George_ as a fighting man tried and
true. As for Joe Hawkridge, I have acquainted the Governor with his
merits and his pardon is assured."
"Thankee, sir," returned the reformed young pirate. "A respectable life
is what I crave, and the parson for company."
"It sounds almost pleasant to me, including the parson," admitted Jack,
"as soon as we shall have settled this matter with Blackbeard."