THE LOSS OF THE “KITTY”
“I will tell you, my girl, though I hate to talk of it. About a month
ago I sailed from Havana, bound to London, with a cargo of rum, tobacco
and sweetmeats. The weather was fine, and we had a good voyage until we
came within four or five days’ sail of port. A sail had been following
us all day long. We did not know she was following us, nor could we make
out by our best glass what she was. She was the only sail in sight. As
night closed in she gained on us. That was certain. But still we could
not make her out. She did not come near enough for that, for the _Kitty_
is a pretty fast clipper herself. As night darkened we lost sight of the
strange sail, without any misgivings. But in the gray of the morning she
was alongside of us! Hold on! The devil is getting into me again!”
exclaimed the old sea dog, snatching Mr. Force’s hat from his head and
flinging it with vehemence upon the deck.
“The fortunes of war, captain—the fortunes of war! Be patient!” said
Abel Force.
“The fortunes of murder, robbery, arson, piracy! There was no fight!”
“The will of Providence, then.”
“The will of the devil! You shan’t lay their murders, and robberies, and
arsons, and piracies upon Providence! That would be blasphemy! There was
no struggle! What could our unarmed little Baltimore clipper do—though
every one was a hero—against a pirate ship of twenty-four guns, manned
by the desperate offscourings of the galleys and the convict prisons,
all armed to the teeth, bristling with pistols, daggers and cutlasses?
Nothing at all! They boarded us, walked into us and through us, and made
prisoners of our men, took possession of our ship, then put the men into
two open boats and sent them adrift, to sink or swim, carried off me and
young Roland captives to their own deck, and finally sent off an officer
and a detail of their devilish pirates to work the _Kitty_—and Satan
only knows where they carried her and her valuable cargo of rum and
tobacco! We parted company then and there. I never saw young Roland
after that. I believe he did make some resistance, and was wounded. I
saw him bleeding and carried below, and I never saw him again.”
Here the captain made an involuntary dash at the earl’s cap, but his
hand was intercepted by Mr. Force.
“He’ll scalp us next,” said Wynnette.
“Umph! Umph! Umph!” grunted the captain.
“Oh, Uncle Gideon! Oh, Uncle Gideon!” moaned Rosemary, while Mrs. Force
gripped her own hands firmly in silent trouble.
“Don’t cry, honey! I believe he is safe enough and will turn up all
right. I called them murderers! And, no doubt at all, some of that
criminal crew were murderers, and worse than murderers, if such could
be! But they did no murder in my sight! They might—had they chosen—they
might have massacred all hands aboard the _Kitty_, but they didn’t! They
put the men in open boats and set them afloat to take their chance; and
then—for some reason well known to himself, but quite unknown to
me—Capt. Silver took young Bayard and myself on board the _Argente_. I
said I never saw Roland after he was taken down below, nor did I! But I
did not fail to inquire for him. The head devil told me that the young
man was all right; that his wound was only skin deep; that his men never
killed or wounded men whom they could so easily overpower and capture
without bloodshed; and especially in the case of a fine young seaman who
might become useful to them.”
“Oh, Uncle Gideon! Then they did only take Roland on board to make a
pirate of him!”
“Of course they did, my dear; for when I asked to see Roland, Silver
told me, with a satanic laugh, that the young man was ‘in retreat,’
preparatory to entering his novitiate in the holy orders of bold
buccaneers, roaring sea rovers, and that no outsiders should have access
to him, for fear they might shake his good resolutions and even win him
back to the selfish world.”
“What a devil!” exclaimed Wynnette.
“Every day I inquired about Roland, and each day I received answers
which would have made me believe that the boy was gradually being
persuaded to become a pirate—if I had not known that Roland Bayard could
never become so perverted.”
“No, never, never, never!” firmly declared Rosemary.
“But while Bayard was kept a close prisoner, I had the run of the deck,”
continued the captain. “One day I asked Silver where he was bound. He
told me, with infernal insolence, that he should touch on the coast of
England, put me on shore, and then go about his own business. Two days
after, we came to anchor on a lonely part of the coast of Cornwall. It
was a dark night, and they put me in a boat and took me ashore and left
me there, with just two sovereigns in my pocketbook. They had robbed me
of thousands, but they left me that much to take me to London. I don’t
know why, I am sure, that it should sometimes occur to a scoundrel to
stop short of the extreme wickedness he might perpetrate! But at all
events, Silver did stop short of the crime of leaving me penniless to
perish at night on a desolate seacoast. I passed the night in a solitary
fisherman’s cottage. In the morning there was not a sign of the
_Argente_ to be seen. She had sailed again. I walked to the nearest
railway station, distant twelve miles, and there I took the
‘Parliamentary’ to London—for I had to economize my small funds. I went
down to the West India Docks, where I was as well known as the church
clock, and saw some of my correspondents, told my story, got all the
money I wanted, and took the express to Liverpool; reached there
yesterday, engaged a berth, and here I am!”
“Was your ship and cargo insured?” inquired Mr. Force.
“From keel to masthead,” answered the skipper. “But that was against
fire and water and accidents. Now, I don’t know whether being taken by a
pirate would be considered as coming under the clause of accidents or
not. But, anyway, you know the insurance companies are bound to make a
fuss before they pay a cent. They always do.”
“Your losses, then, I fear, may be heavy.”
“Yes, but not ruinous, even if the insurance companies do not pay,
because I have still the _Blue Bird_ that George sails.”
“Where is Capt. George now?” inquired Mr. Force.
“In the China seas somewhere if he has not been taken by a privateer.
But where is your nephew, Leonidas?” inquired Capt. Grandiere.
“We do not know. We have not heard from Le for many months. When we last
heard it was through a letter from him dated on board the United States
ship _Eagle_, then about to sail under sealed orders. We are all,
therefore, naturally very anxious,” replied Mr. Force.
“Ay! ay! These are anxious times for us all. But, at any rate, the
man-of-war is safe from the pirates, who prey only on unarmed
merchantmen. Hope the sealed orders were to go after the privateers—that
is, pirates.”
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the dinner gong, and
passengers began to troop down from the deck to the dining saloon.
Seasickness had not yet come on to take away their appetites.
The earl, who had been a silent, though interested, listener to the
story of the old skipper, and who had his own private opinion of young
Roland Bayard’s position in the pirate ship, arose and drew the arm of
Rosemary within his own, to take her down to dinner.
Old Capt. Grandiere offered his to Mrs. Force. Mr. Force took his eldest
daughter, and Wynnette made a manly bow and took Elva under her
protection.
And so they went down to their first dinner on the _Asia_, and their
last for several days, for a more stormy passage than that of the _Asia_
which sailed on that March morning was never weathered by ocean steamer.
After dinner the old skipper went on deck to smoke his pipe alone.
The Forces went down into the ladies’ cabin, to look at their
staterooms, arrange their effects, and get comfortably settled in their
quarters before seasickness should overtake and disable them.
Our party occupied three staterooms in a row, on the right-hand side of
the cabin as you entered it from the forward gangway.
Nearest the gangway was the stateroom of Mr. and Mrs. Force; next to
that the one of Odalite and Elva; and last of the three was that of
Rosemary and Wynnette.
All the three rooms were exactly alike, and each had a door opening into
the cabin, and opposite the door a little window looking out on the sea
and sky. On the left hand as you entered there was a wide berth at the
bottom and a narrow one at the top. On the right hand was the wide sofa.
Under the lower berth and under the sofa were deep drawers to hold the
sea wardrobe and other effects of the passengers. In the angle between
the side of the window and the end of the sofa was a stationary
washstand, with all needful accessories. In the angle between the other
end of the sofa and the door leading into the cabin was a stationary
lamp, locked up in a heavy plate glass box, and carefully lighted and
locked up every night, and unlocked and extinguished every morning, by
the stateroom steward. The little door of this glass box or closet was
in the general cabin, so that the lamp could be attended without
intrusion into the stateroom. For the rest, all the fittings of the
staterooms were “cabinet finished”; the floor was covered with a thick
crimson Brussels carpet; the berths and the windows curtained by crimson
satin damask, and the sofa covered with crimson moreen. Under the
stationary lamp was a corner bracket of black walnut, with three shelves
to hold books, or anything else that could be contained on the limited
space.
Below the Forces’ quarters was a long row of staterooms exactly like
their own, and on the opposite side of the cabin a corresponding row,
all occupied by ladies and families who were total strangers to the
Forces, and perhaps, in many cases, to each other also.
The ladies’ cabin was fitted up very much as most well-appointed steamer
cabins are, with handsome carpet, sofas, easy chairs, mirrors, water
coolers, and so forth. Down the middle stood a long oval table, at which
you could sit and read, or write, or sew, or talk with companions. This
table was lighted at night by three large chandeliers hanging from the
ceiling.
The Forces were well pleased with their quarters. And as for the girls,
they were always running in and out of each other’s rooms, comparing and
admiring.
Only Mrs. Force was anxious about the comfort of her invalid brother.
His stateroom was in the gentlemen’s cabin. She would hear when they
should meet at tea whether he were well accommodated.
They had scarcely completed their arrangements when the gong sounded to
call the passengers to tea.
They went up to the saloon, where they were joined by the earl and the
old skipper. Their party of eight just filled one table, which they
thenceforth kept for themselves.
The old skipper was installed at the head of the table and the squire at
the foot. Mrs. Force and the earl sat on the right and left of the
skipper. This arrangement of the four elders was maintained for the
whole of the voyage, but the four young people sat as they pleased.
This table had two waiters, and they were well attended.
In answer to Mrs. Force’s questions the earl gave her a good account of
his stateroom, adding it was near that of the captain.
After this the whole party went up on deck for a promenade. The setting
sun was striking a broad path of glorious light across from the western
horizon to the bows of the ship.
“It seems the course of our voyage,” said Odalite. “We are sailing
toward the setting sun, and just now in its path of flame.”
There were many more people on the forward deck; but after the sun had
dropped below the horizon the wind gradually freshened and it grew very
cold.
Then Mr. Force proposed that they should leave the deck.
They all went down to the saloon and gathered around one of the vacant
tables, where the captain entertained them with sea yarns, and even sang
a sea song.
There were many other groups of passengers gathered at the other tables,
but they were still strangers to our party, when the old skipper began
to sing his song with its roaring refrain of:
“Oh! what a row! what a rumpus! and a rioting!
They all endure, you may be sure,
Who—go—to—sea!”
Conversation stopped at all the tables, and all the people turned to
listen.
Presently several joined in the chorus and made the saloon ring again
with melody.
At the close of the song the singer was loudly applauded; but he excused
himself from repeating the experiment.
At ten o’clock supper was served for those who wished it; but as our
party were not among that number they left the saloon and retired to
their berths, where they were all soon rocked asleep by the motion of
the ship.
And so ended their first day out.