NED RACKHAM'S PLANS GO MUCH AMISS
THE armed brigantine had been out several days on the voyage to Virginia
when a vessel was sighted hull-down. Captain Wellsby and Colonel Stuart
decided to edge over and take a look at the stranger although they were
not anxious to engage an enemy of heavier metal. If, however, this
should happen to be Blackbeard in the _Revenge_ they were in no mood to
avoid him, despite the odds. After an hour of sailing in a strong
breeze, it was seen that this other vessel was a small merchantman which
shifted her course as though to shake off pursuit.
"They take us for a pirate," chuckled Captain Wellsby. "I have no wish
to scare 'em, poor souls. They will feel easy as soon as we bring the
wind abeam."
He was about to give the order when Joe Hawkridge, gunner's mate, called
to Jack Cockrell standing his watch at the helm:
"Remember the snow I told ye of? Yonder is the same rig and tonnage,
alike it as peas in a pod."
Jack spoke to the shipmaster who summoned Joe to the quarter-deck. The
boy was confident that this was the New England coasting vessel in which
Ned Rackham and his pirates had appeared off Cherokee Inlet and had
carried the marooned seamen from the sandy cay.
"A brown patch in the big main-topsail, and the bowsprit steeved more'n
ordinary," said Joe. "Tit for tat, Cap'n Wellsby. Your men can have the
fun of jamming them in the fo'castle. And you won't find me or Jack
helpin' these picaroons to break out."
"No fear of that," sternly spoke the shipmaster. "They shall make their
exit with a taut rope and a long drop when I deliver them in Virginia."
It was to be gathered that the bold Ned Rackham had failed in his
desperate enterprise of capturing a larger ship and that he was probably
cruising up the coast in hopes of rejoining Blackbeard. The snow had too
few guns to cope with the _King George_ brigantine which could throw a
battering broadside. As soon as identification was certain, Captain
Wellsby hauled to windward to hold the weather gauge and Colonel Stuart
called the men to quarters. The _Plymouth Adventure_ hands were
disappointed that they would be unable to pay their own grudge. They had
no doubt that Ned Rackham would strike his colors without a battle.
The _King George_ ran close enough for Captain Wellsby to shout through
the trumpet:
"The snow ahoy! Send your men aboard or I'll sink you. No tricks,
Rackham. Lively, now."
They saw the men running to cut the boat lashings and struggle to
launch the boats from the deck. Ned Rackham, handsome and debonair,
stared coolly at the brigantine but gave no sign that he had heard the
ultimatum. With a shrug he walked across the poop, glanced up at the
British ensign which flew from his main truck, and made no motion to
pull it down.
"Blow your matches, boys," roared Colonel Stuart from his station in the
waist of the _King George_. "Five minutes' grace, no more."
Captain Wellsby said to wait a little. The pirates were endeavoring to
quit the snow. And presently Rackham appeared to change his own purpose.
No longer ignoring the _King George_, he doffed his hat in a graceful
flourish and bowed with a mocking obeisance. Then he strolled to the
cabin hatch and went below, presumably to get a change of clothing or
something of the sort. But he failed to reappear and his men were in a
frenzy of haste, with one boat already in the water.
So incensed was Colonel Stuart by the insolent refusal of Ned Rackham to
strike his colors in token of surrender that he gave orders to fire at
the mainmast and try to bring it down. An instant before the starboard
battery thundered, the snow seemed to fly upwards in a tremendous
explosion. The masts were flung out of her and the hull opened like a
shattered basket. So violent was the shock that men were thrown to the
deck of the _King George_ and she quivered as though her bows had
rammed a reef. Black smoke spouted as from a crater and debris rained
down on a boiling sea.
A few survivors, scorched or half-stunned, were clinging to bits of
wreckage and wailing for succor. Where the snow had floated was a
discolored eddy, broken timbers, a lather of dirty foam. Captain
Jonathan Wellsby picked himself up, rubbed a bump on his head, and gazed
wildly at the tragic scene. Collecting his wits, he exclaimed:
"That 'ud be like Ned Rackham, to blow up the ship sooner than be taken
and hanged. More than likely he had the train all laid to the powder
barrels."
"He saved us a lot of trouble," said Colonel Stuart as he climbed to the
poop. "A fellow of iron will and courage, this Rackham, by all accounts.
I have conceived a respect for him."
"I forgive him his sins," replied the skipper. "Now, lads, boats away,
and fish up those dying wretches."
Joe Hawkridge emitted a jubilant whoop and dived over the rail without
waiting for a boat. He had caught a glimpse of a feeble swimmer whose
square, solid features and bushy brows were familiar. It was Peter
Tobey, the carpenter's mate, who had befriended him on the cay and who
had set adrift that miraculous cask of food and water. A few strokes and
Joe was at his side, clutching him by the neck-band and towing him
toward the _King George_ like a faithful retriever. Ropes were flung to
them and Joe saw his good friend safely aboard before he went up the
side.
The carpenter's mate was both burned and bruised but his hurts were not
grievous and he was able to drag himself aft with Joe as a crutch.
"My own particular prize, sir, by your gracious leave," said Joe
Hawkridge, addressing Captain Wellsby. "This is Mr. Peter Tobey, a poor,
faint-hearted pirate like me. May I have him to keep, sir?"
"Bless me, but there will be no pirates left to hang," was the quizzical
reply. "Master Cockrell has adopted you, and now I am ordered to be kind
to Bill Saxby and Trimble Rogers if I meet up with 'em."
"That's the whole list, sir. Ask Jack Cockrell. You can string the rest
of the bloody pirates to the yardarm, for all we care. Do I get
exemption for this Peter Tobey?"
"What is your verdict, Colonel Stuart?" asked the captain.
"I heard the tale from Hawkridge," answered the brusque but generous
soldier. "The carpenter's mate has won my allegiance. What say you in
your own behalf, Peter Tobey?"
The blistered, singed survivor touched a hand to his forehead and
respectfully responded:
"A carpenter by trade and nature, and allus was. I never see one happy
day a-piratin' nor did I shed the blood of any human creatur'. With a
bench and tools, you will find me a proper handy man in Charles Town."
"That clinches it," cried Colonel Stuart. "I should call it a crime to
hang an artisan like Peter Tobey. Your prize is awarded you, Hawkridge.
See that he is well cared for."
"The first booty that ever was handed me from a sinkin' ship," said Joe.
"Come along, Master Tobey, and roll into my bunk."
"Verily I was castin' bread upon the waters when I gave that cask to the
wind and tide," devoutly murmured the carpenter's mate as he limped
below with his new owner.
No more than a dozen other pirates were rescued alive and several of
these expired soon after they were lifted aboard the brigantine. This
was the only sensational incident of the coastwise voyage to the James
River. Comfortably quartered, with no more work than was wholesome, Jack
Cockrell and Joe Hawkridge thought it a holiday excursion after their
previous adventures at sea.
In the roadstead of the James were two men-of-war, small frigates flying
the broad pennant of the Royal Navy. A conference was held in the cabin
of the senior officer, to which Captain Wellsby and Colonel Stuart were
invited. The latest advices made it seem certain that Blackbeard still
lurked off the coast of the Carolinas. Planters had reported seeing his
ship in Pamlico Sound and it was also learned that he had been in
communication with the disloyal Governor Eden at Bath Town. A letter had
been intercepted, in handwriting of the Governor's secretary, and
addressed to Captain Teach, which included these words:
"_I have sent you four of your men. They are all I can meet with about
town. Be upon your guard._"
This was readily construed to mean that Blackbeard was in haste to
recall such of his crew as had strayed ashore. At the council of war in
the frigate's cabin, a proclamation was read. It offered a handsome
reward for the capture of Captain Edward Teach, dead or alive, and
lesser rewards for other pirates.
It was the decision that the two frigates were unhandy for cruising
inshore. Therefore officers and men would be chosen from them to fill
the complements of two sloops, light and active craft which would be
unhampered by batteries of cannon. They would be employed for boarding
Blackbeard's ship while the Charles Town brigantine _King George_ should
convoy them and engage in the attack if the depth of water should
permit. The naval officer selected to command the sloops was Lieutenant
Maynard who went off to the _King George_ to inspect her and make a call
of courtesy.
He was especially cordial to Master Cockrell and Gunner's Mate Joe
Hawkridge, laying aside the stiff dignity of naval rank. To his
persuasive argument that they enter the royal service with promise of
quick promotion, they turned a deaf ear although they were wonderfully
taken with him. He was a gentle, soft-spoken young man with a boyish
smile who blushed when pressed to talk of his own exploits against the
Spanish, the Dutch, and the French in Britannia's wooden walls. His own
questions were mostly about Blackbeard's fighting quality. Would he make
a stand against disciplined tars who were accustomed to close in,
hammer-and-tongs? Joe Hawkridge answered to this:
"I ne'er saw him in action against a king's ship, and all his wild
nonsense is apt to delude ye into thinkin' him a drunken play-actor. But
you will never take him alive, so long as those bandy legs have strength
to prop him up."
"I look forward to meeting him with a deal of pleasure. It may be my
good fortune to measure swords with him," observed Lieutenant Maynard.
Joe Hawkridge was puzzled by this gentle fire-eater with the complexion
of a girl. Nothing could have been more unlike the ramping, roaring
pirates of Blackbeard's dirty crew who tried to terrify by their very
appearance. After the lieutenant had returned to his frigate, Jack
Cockrell remarked:
"A most misleading man, Joe. You cannot picture him seeking the bubble
reputation at the cannon's mouth, as Will Shakespeare saith."
"Blackbeard will bite him in two," replied Joe. "He is too pretty to be
risked in such a slaughter pen. I own up to feelin' squeamish on my own
account, hardy pirate though I be."
"This Lieutenant Maynard is welcome to measure swords with Blackbeard,"
said Jack, "and I shall not quarrel with him for the honor. Pick me a
pirate with a wooden leg, Joe, or one that still shakes with Spanish
fever."
"My only chance of getting out with a whole skin is to lug a sack of
flour under one arm and play the ghost o' Jesse Strawn."
Expeditiously the brigantine and the two sloops sailed out of the James
River to head for the North Carolina coast and first rake the nooks and
bays of Pamlico Sound. There was no intention of offering Blackbeard
fair odds in battle. With men and vessels enough it was resolved to
exterminate him, like ridding a house of rats or other vermin. If he had
gone out to sea, then the pursuers would wait and watch for his return
to his favorite haunts in these waters. There was every reason to
believe, however, that he was concealed inshore, within easy distance of
his friend Governor Eden.
Failing to find him in Pamlico Sound, it was debated whether to cruise
farther to the southward. Now Master Jack Cockrell and his chum had said
nothing to the officers concerning the treasure in the Cherokee swamp.
They felt bound in honor not to reveal it without the consent of Bill
Saxby and old Trimble Rogers who were partners in the enterprise.
Moreover, Lieutenant Maynard and the Virginia officers would feel bound
to turn the treasure over to the crown or its representatives. Governor
Eden of North Carolina would undoubtedly claim it as found within his
territory and this meant that he would steal most of it for himself.
It thrilled the lads when Colonel Stuart told them that this Provincial
squadron would cruise as far as Cherokee Inlet before working to the
northward again. Information had led the officers to believe that
Blackbeard had lost many men by desertion while his ship lay at Bath
Town and near by. They had been roving about the plantations and making
a nuisance of themselves and seemed ready to quit their red-handed
despot of a master. In this event he might have sought his old
hiding-place at the Inlet sooner than risk a clash with the force which
had been sent after him and of which he had been warned by Governor
Eden.
Lieutenant Maynard scouted in advance with the two sloops because there
was small danger of their getting aground and they could be moved along
with oars if the wind failed. The brigantine kept further offshore but
within signaling distance. She was running within sight of the
scattering barrier of low islands when Captain Wellsby summoned Joe
Hawkridge and informed him:
"You will act as pilot, Joe, once we fetch sounding on the Twelve Fathom
Bank. The chart is faulty, as ye know, and me and my mates are in
strange waters with a'mighty little elbow-room. You know the marks, I
take it."
"Aye, sir, I do that," answered Joe. "Then I stays aboard ship and miss
the chance to go pokin' about with a cutlass? I'm all screwed up to
terrible deeds, Cap'n Wellsby, after a spell o' mortal fear. And who
takes care of Master Cockrell if he goes in a boat?"
"His own lusty right arm, Joe. Avast with your melancholy. We must first
catch this Blackbeard."
Presently Joe Hawkridge footed it up the main shrouds to scan the sea
ahead and try to get a glimpse of that sandy bit of exposed shoal on
which he had been marooned. This would enable him to find the entrance
to the outer channel and so con the brigantine in from seaward. While he
shaded his eyes with his hand against the glare of the morning sun, one
of the sloops hoisted a string of bright signal flags and fired two
guns. The other sloop was seen to lower her topsail and wait for the
_King George_ to come up.
Joe Hawkridge climbed higher and found a perch where he could discern
the spars of a vessel etched almost as fine as threads against the azure
horizon. He was almost certain that the ship he saw was very close to
that tiny cay of which he had such unhappy knowledge. Soon he was able
to perceive that the vessel's sails were furled. This was an odd place
for an anchorage. His conjecture was confirmed when the _King George_
passed close to the nearest sloop and Lieutenant Maynard shouted:
"Stranded hard and fast! And she is deucedly like Blackbeard's brig."
Scampering to the deck, Joe Hawkridge mustered his gun's crew as Jack
Cockrell came running up to say:
"Trapped on the very islet where he cast you and the other pirates! His
chickens have come home to roost."
"Call me no pirate or I'll stretch ye with a handspike," grinned Joe.
"'Tis a plaguey poor word in this company. Aye, Cap'n Ed'ard Teach has a
taste of his own medicine and he will get a worse dose this day than
ever he served me."