WHAT HAPPENS ABOARD THE ‘SAUCY SUSAN’—AND THE ENDING OF HER AND HER
CREW.
Three days after we boarded the ‘Saucy Susan’ I was the look-out man
during a dark mid-watch. The wind was fresh, the sea high, and we
were plunging rapidly along; the sails straining and surging, and
the masts and rigging cracking with the pressure. I was standing on
the heel of the bowsprit, with my arm round the forestay to balance
myself, and occasionally ducking and stooping as I best could to
avoid the cold showers of brine which our sharp bows tore up, when
some one pulled my doublet, and, looking round, I saw Rumbold.
‘Is there any one about?’ quoth he; ‘I want to speak to you
privately.’ But the breeze, although it blew strong, was steady, and
the watch lay dozing under the lee of the long-boat between the masts.
‘My mind misgives me,’ says Rumbold, presently, ‘that they have a
design on me. That fellow Nixon watches every motion as a cat does a
mouse. I know that Jerry, Le Chiffon Rouge, and he, are aware that
I have pearls about me, and I go in constant dread. Did you see the
three rogues to-day, how long and how earnestly they talked, and what
sly glances they, every one of them, threw at me? It was ticklish
work living among the Spaniards at the Rio de la Hacha, but I warrant
you I feel never a bit more comfortable among my countrymen here.’
I inquired where Jerry, the Captain, and Nixon were?
Rumbold replied, that they were all three drinking in the great
cabin, and that being pretty far gone, he had been able to slip out
to seek me.
‘Now,’ quoth he, ‘I don’t intend that these rascals shall have my
pearls, if I can keep them—and what is more, I don’t intend that they
shall have them, even although I may not be able to keep them—they
shall go into the sea, which they came out of, first.’
I said, that surely the fellows would not murder him for his wealth.
‘Well,’ he answered, ‘they would not murder, if they could steal
without it—but if they can’t, I do not suppose that a throat or so
cut, would make much difference.’
Upon this I replied, heartily shaking Rumbold’s hand at the same
time,—
‘You helped me, at my time of need, among the Spaniards. Perhaps, I
can help you now—will you entrust the pearls to me?’
‘My good fellow,’ says Rumbold, with great eagerness, ‘that is
precisely the favour I came to ask of you.’
And with that, he fumbled in his bosom, and presently drew out a
sort of flat pouch, made of thin but tough leather, with straps
which buckled round the body. We both looked eagerly to see that
we were not observed, but not a soul could be seen stirring upon
deck. A lantern, swinging from the weather-foreshrouds, cast a dusky
gleam around upon the dripping bulwarks, and the wet and slippery
planks—but we were alone.
‘Hush!’ says he, softly. ‘The pearls are in this pouch—there is a
good thousand pounds worth—strap the belt tightly round you, under
your clothes, the first time you have an opportunity. If you deliver
it up to me safely at Jamaica, a third of the profits shall be
yours—if anything happens to me, I make you my legatee—keep pouch and
pearls, and make the best of them.’
He had hardly made the transfer, when a shadow glided darkly between
us and the lantern. We both rushed aft as far as the foremast, and
pried eagerly about, but not a creature was to be seen.
‘Bah!’ said Rumbold, ‘it was only the light, swinging with the
ship as she rolls.’ But my own belief was that some one had glided
across the deck, and mounted the weather-forerigging. I had not
time, however, to communicate my thoughts to Rumbold, when we heard
loud voices, and saw a glimmering of lights aft, and immediately
Jerry came forwards, walking not very steadily, although he had good
sea-legs, and clinging to the rigging, when the ship made a wilder
lurch than ordinary.
‘Farewell—take care!’ exclaimed Rumbold. ‘I must not be seen here.’
So saying, he slid over to leeward, and crept aft, under the black
shadow of the sails. Meantime, Jerry approached, and taking the
lantern from the forerigging, grasped my shoulder, and asked me—in
a thick voice and with a hiccup—whether all was well? I replied
in the affirmative: upon which he steadied himself on the deck as
well as he could, and began to hum over a song to himself—sometimes
stopping to put the same question to me, half a dozen times over,
after the manner of a drunken man—when, all at once, the ship giving
a violent lee-lurch, he was pitched bodily against the bulwarks,
and at the same moment a heavy marline spike fell with a crash from
the rigging, tearing up white splinters in the deck. Had it not been
for that lucky lurch, that sharp and ponderous iron would have cleft
the mate’s head. All this happened in a moment, but the weapon had
hardly struck the deck, when Jerry bounded to his legs, and with a
tremendous oath, that there was treachery somewhere, called to me to
go aloft in the weather-rigging, while he took the lee. The danger he
had escaped seemed to have sobered the mate at once. I sprung into
the tightened shrouds, half bewildered at the thing, while Jerry
screamed to me, from the opposite rigging, to look sharp and take
care of a knife-thrust, for he was certain it was that villainous
Portuguese dog who had flung the marline spike.
Up we both went into the rocking rigging. We climbed over the rail of
the foretop at the same moment, and I saw that Jerry held the barrel
of a small pistol between his teeth.
‘The murthering rogue!’ he cried. ‘But he has made his last
cast—either he or I go down on that deck a dead man!’
We both looked up to the heel of the top-gallant mast. The white
canvas was tugging and straining upon the bending yard, and the loose
lee-rigging was rattling against the mast and sail.
‘There he is—there’s the thief!’ Jerry roared, and we both sprang
into the topmast rigging. Holding on by the top-gallant yard, I
discerned a black figure, like a shadow, against the light-coloured
canvas. All at once I saw its arm move, something bright gleamed
through the air, and Jerry shouted—
‘Devil confound him—he has sent his knife into my shoulder,’ and
immediately stopped, grasping the shrouds as though he feared to
fall. Knowing now that the Portuguese had no knife, I sprang rapidly
up the shrouds to grapple with him. Just then, a faint watery glimpse
of moonlight fell upon the ship, throwing a great shadow upon the
broad sails on the mainmast, and I saw above me, crouched upon the
yard, the form of Vasco—his grim face gazing at me, and his hands
clenched, as though he was determined to sell his life as dearly as
he could. The next moment, we had grappled together—neither of us
spoke—but the Portuguese attempted to seize my throat with his teeth;
I caught him however by his hair, and wrenched his head backwards,
while I sought to gripe his right wrist and so overpower him. But the
creature, although he had no strength to cope with me, was as lithe
and slippery as an eel, and suddenly striking me a blow between the
eyes, which made abundance of lights dance before them—I felt in a
moment his cold long fingers twining round my throat, and closing
upon my windpipe. In the instinctive struggle for breath, I let go
hold of his hair, and at the same instant, a sudden and tremendous
swing through the air, as the ship rolled violently below, made me
clutch the ropes about me, or I should have been flung off into the
sea, like a stone from a sling. At that moment the grasp upon my
throat relaxed,—and with a litheness and agility, which were like
the qualities of a monkey and a snake united in one creature—the
Portuguese slid, as it were, from me, upon the main-royal stay,
crawling and worming himself along towards the other mast. But Jerry,
who had by this time recovered the first faintness from his cut,
kept his eye steadily upon the rogue, for I calling out that he was
escaping to the mainmast, the mate replied—‘Ay, ay, I see him:’ and,
then, steadily taking aim, the explosion of the pistol re-echoed
loudly, from sail to sail, and the Portuguese suddenly dropping his
legs from the stay, hung to it by his hands only.
‘Stand from under,’ shouted Jerry, ‘and allow the villain to drop
clear. He has stabbed me as he did Shambling Ned.’
Vasco uttered no sound, but he raised his legs again, seeking by a
mighty effort to recover his position upon the rope. His feet had,
indeed, touched it, when the muscles relaxed again, and he hung as
before by his hands, swinging dreadfully with the motion of the
ship. All this time, Jerry was clutching the forerigging, not having
moved since the knife of the Portuguese struck him. The watch upon
deck having been aroused by Jerry’s cries, and the report of the
pistol, were running to-and-fro with lanterns, and some of them were
ascending the rigging towards us, when Jerry roared out again—
‘Stop—stop, every mother’s son of you, where you are till the fellow
falls, and then stand by to pitch him overboard.’
The Portuguese heard this, for he turned round his head to Jerry, and
I saw his white teeth, as the wretch grinned in his agony. The mate
answered this look with a loud laugh.
‘Some of you there below,’ he cried, ‘go into the great cabin, bring
up a flagon of wine—and we’ll drink to the murthering dog’s speedy
arrival in hell.’
The Portuguese now let go hold of the rope with his right hand—and
then, as if to reserve his strength, hung for awhile with the left. I
did not think that the man would have had such endurance in him, but
he was of a light weight, and the muscles of his arms were strong.
All this time he never uttered a sound. Jerry, too, held his peace,
and the crew below waited in silence, with their lanterns glimmering
on deck. There was something very solemn in all this—the struggling
and tossing ship—the rigid figures of the seamen—the silence, except
for the wind and waves, and the writhing creature waving in the air.
At length, he uttered one loud shrill cry of mortal agony, which
echoed again and again between the sails, and immediately afterwards
dropped like a stone. I heard the heavy thump with which he crashed
down upon the deck. Descending as quickly as I could, I found that
Jerry, in spite of his wound, which was, however, only a flesh cut,
was standing over the Portuguese, who lay all doubled up where he
fell.
‘Up with the hound, and over the side with him to the sharks!’ said
Jerry, in a low stern voice. Immediately the poor wretch was plucked
from the deck, and four sturdy fellows bore him to the bulwarks. He
gave no sign of life; but just as they heaved him up for the fatal
swing, the lanterns being all gleaming around, I saw him, his eyes
still shut, make the sign of the cross upon his forehead. He was,
therefore, still alive.
‘One!’ cried Jerry.
The four executioners, who seemed to like the job well, gave the
wretch a swing.
‘Two, three!’ thundered the mate, and at the last word, Vasco of
Lisbon was hove a fathom from the ship’s side, into the boiling sea.
As he plunged down into the brine, every one heard for a moment,
and no more, such a cry as he uttered just before he fell from the
rigging. Then his voice was choked for ever.
I could hardly deny but that the Portuguese merited his fate; but
the flinging overboard of a living man, without form of trial or
condemnation, seemed a hasty and cruel deed. Nevertheless, none of
the crew, except myself, appeared to be of that opinion, and most of
them said openly, that it was a very good riddance, and that whether
he had attempted the life of the mate or not, he was better in the
sea than the ship. As for Jerry, he had his wound, which was, as
I have said, a flesh cut on the shoulder, rubbed with brandy, and
seemed to think no more about the matter.
When my watch was up, I went below in no merry mood; and, presently,
found an opportunity, while lying in my hammock, which swung among
near twoscore of similar sleeping places, to dispose of the pearls
as Rumbold had recommended. The grey light of the morning was coming
down the hatchway, and I had not yet slept, for the end of the
wretched Portuguese was still in my head, when there was suddenly a
great thumping over head on deck, and an outcry for all hands to turn
out and go to quarters. It is curious to observe, at this summons the
sudden rousing of all the sleepers in the ship—how in a moment, grim
heads start out of the warm blankets, and a whole legion of stalwart
naked legs come down together, from a score of swinging hammocks
upon the deck. But a sailor is soon dressed; and, accordingly, two
minutes had not gone by since I lay in my hammock, when I was at my
post, staring over the weather bow, at a small sloop, built very low,
and which seemed to sail very quickly, which was running along with
us, leaning over before the breeze, so that we could see almost the
whole of her decks, upon which about half-a-dozen of sailors were
running with sleepy scared looks, while the steersman was calling
out and gesticulating violently. Looking forth upon the sea, I saw
that a mist, almost as thick as that in which we had stumbled upon
the ‘Saucy Susan,’ was just lifting from the water, and driving
in vapoury volumes before the wind. It appeared that the mist had
partially dispersed just before all hands were roused up, and that
the look-out had directly spied the sloop, close to windward of us.
If there had been less wind and sea, our small friend would very
speedily have shown us his stern, for the sharp bows, and rounded
sides of the vessel were evidently formed for quick sailing; but the
heavy tumbling ridges of sea hove him so to leeward, that he had no
chance with a more powerful ship. Meantime, Le Chiffon Rouge mounting
into the weather-mizen rigging, trumpet in hand, hailed to the sloop
to surrender; and Jerry, in a breath, roared out to know if the guns
forward were all ready.
‘She is a barco longo—a Spanish express boat, comrades,’ he shouted;
‘and we must overhaul her despatches before we part company.’
Still the captain of the sloop made no sign, standing very staunchly
by the steersman, and conning his ship. Once he motioned to the
latter to put the helm down, as if he intended suddenly to luff, and
go round on the other tack; but changing his mind, he glanced at our
sails, and continued his course. Le Chiffon Rouge again hailed the
sloop to surrender, but still without effect, and I observed that in
a temporary lull of the breeze she was beginning to draw away from
the ship. Then the bull-like voice of Jerry thundered out along the
deck—‘The first gun ready there—send your cold iron aboard of him!’
Josiah Ward was the captain of the cannon by which I was stationed.
His old dim eyes flashed up at the notion of a fray; and so,
stooping over the gun and sheltering the priming from the wind with
his trembling hand, he glanced warily along the mass of iron as it
pointed now up to the zenith, now down to the billows, according to
the motion of the ship, and at length suddenly dashed the burning
end of a rope, which served for a fusee, into the powder in the pan,
which flashed up, while the hollow iron belched forth its flame,
and started back with the explosion, the carriage cracking, and the
tackles rattling through the blocks, until the discharged cannon lay
near the centre of the deck, its grimed mouth yet hot and smoking.
The discharge was a lucky one. The ball tore a hole in the mainsail
of the sloop, and just then a gust flying heavily over the sea, the
canvas was rent from top to bottom with a loud harsh shriek, and blew
fluttering in rags out of the bolt-rope.
‘Back the main topsail,’ cried Jerry. ‘The run is taken out of him.’
But just as the yard swung round, the captain of the sloop made
but one leap down into his cabin, the sky-light of which was open,
and directly re-appeared, carrying in his hand a small metal box
or casket. He had not taken a step upon the deck, when I heard the
report of a carabine from our ship, and the Spaniard leaped three
feet into the air, and fell in a heap upon the deck, above his burden.
‘That is the despatch box,’ quoth old Ward. ‘He meant to fling it
into the sea, but Tommy Nixon was too sharp for him.’
Just then Le Chiffon Rouge hailed in good Spanish that if any one of
the crew of the sloop dared to meddle with the box, he would hang
every one of them up to the peak of their own vessel. At that the
Spanish sailors hastily retired in a body to the bows of the sloop,
and our stern boat being manned, was lowered dexterously into the
sea, a man standing at bow and stern to unhook the tackles as she
touched the water. Nixon had the command of the boat, and pulled
right aboard the sloop, the crew offering no resistance. The first
thing he did when he got on deck was to wrench the despatch box from
the grasp of the Spanish captain, who had been shot through the body,
and was dying fast. The poor fellow lay in his blood upon the deck,
coughing from time to time, and sputtering the thick gore from his
mouth. Meantime, Nixon had two of the Spanish sailors brought aft to
him, and after examining them, by means of one of his boat’s crew,
who spoke a little bad Spanish, he hailed that the despatch box was
all safe, and contained advices from St. Juan, in Porto Rico, to
Truxillo, under Cape Honduras, and that he would presently search
the cabin for further information. Meantime another boat had been
got into the water, and I was ordered to form one of the crew. Jerry
himself was in the stern-sheets, and presently we all leaped on board
the Spaniard. The first thing the mate asked for was the despatch
box. It was a very stout casket of lead and iron, but by means of a
heavy hammer and a marline-spike, which he brought with him, Jerry
very soon wrenched open the lid, and we, who were crowding about
him, soon saw a good packet of letters, and despatches of different
lengths, tied for the most part carefully with silk, and bearing huge
seals with manifold devices.
Jerry straightway sat him down upon the deck, and while the rest
looked anxiously on, began with great coolness to peruse the
documents one by one. They seemed to be but of little interest, for
as he read, his brows darkened, and he crumpled up letter after
letter, and flung them overboard, where they were soon floating, like
so many white birds between the sloop and the ship. At length he
opened a paper, sealed with black and red wax, which he had no sooner
seen than he started up, crying, ‘Ha, this will do, even though there
be no other!’ And then stuffing the letters he had not read back into
the box, which he gave me to carry, he asked, in a sudden fierce
tone, of one of the captured Spaniards, whether there was an axe in
the ship? The man shrunk back from the question.
‘Why, you fool,’ continued the mate, in broken Spanish, ‘I am not
going to chop off thy head with it; but I tell thee what, if the axe
be not forthcoming speedily, I may find means of making thee a head
shorter without it.’
So the weapon was duly produced.
‘Now, Benjamin Mackett,’ says Jerry, addressing one of the first
boat’s crew, ‘I heard you boast the other night how speedily you
could fell a tree in Virginia. Take the axe, and prove thy words on
the mast of this sloop.’
At this the Spaniards, who guessed by the gestures which passed what
was to be done, set up very dismal lamentations, and began to conjure
us, by all the saints, to leave them the means of getting to land.
‘You may get to land,’ replied Jerry, ‘very well under a jury-mast,
but I intend that you shall be some time about it, or we shall have a
score of pestilent armadilloes out swarming about our ears.’
In the meantime Mackett, who was a sturdy fellow as might be,
first applied the axe to the standing rigging, and in a very short
space the shrouds and stays, cut away from their fastenings at the
bulwarks, collapsed, as it were, round the mast, which, being thus
deprived of its supports, began to sway and work with the rolling of
the ship, creaking and cracking in its step. Then Mackett, flinging
aside his doublet, laid the broad bright axe to the wood with good
will. The white chips glanced about the deck, and in a few moments a
gash was cut so deeply into the mast that I expected to see it snap
short at every roll.
Now,’ says Mackett, stopping in his work, ‘which side of the sloop
shall I send the mast over?’
‘Over any side, with a murrain to thee, so thou makest haste,’
answered Jerry.
Mackett watched the roll of the seas narrowly, and just as the
sloop lurched heavily, as a great ridge of water heaved up under
her keel, he struck the finishing blow with such good will that the
axe sunk a couple of inches into the wood, and with a crack like a
musket-shot, the mast, with all its appurtenances of rigging and
fluttering canvas, fell crashing into the sea, smashing to dust the
light bulwarks of the sloop, and causing it to careen heavily over as
the jagged and splintered end of the timber continued to rub and rasp
against the side of the vessel, impelled by the heaving of the swell.
‘And now, Spaniards,’ said Jerry, ‘you may get to Truxillo as
speedily as you like, and give our compliments to the good folks
there.’
With that we all got into our boats again; most of the crew jeering
at and flouting the disconsolate looks of the Spaniards, as they
stood like men bewildered upon the deck of their crippled ship.
Before I went over the side, however, I raised the head of the
Spanish captain; the man was quite dead, and becoming stiff and cold
already.
Our oars fell into the water, and the boats were speedily hoisted up
to the davits of the ‘Saucy Susan.’ Then Jerry, going aft, touched
his hat to Le Chiffon Rouge very ceremoniously, and presented him
with the casket of despatches and the particular letter which he had
read, the ship all this time lying to, but gradually drifting to
leeward of the ‘Barco Longo,’ which now exposed but little surface to
the wind. After a pretty long communion between these two worthies,
Le Chiffon Rouge ordered the boatswain to call all hands, and
presently the whole crew were grouped round the mainmast. Then the
captain, taking off his hat, began to make one of his usual speeches,
a part of his duty, in fact, which he appeared fond of, being of a
long-winded nature, and given to using fine words on such occasions.
The main points of what he now said were as follows:—
The ‘Saucy Susan,’ as they all knew, was bound on a cruise to the
Mosquito and Honduras coast, but, happily, they were their own
masters, and could change their cruising ground as often as they
thought fit. Well, here were certain despatches newly captured from
the ‘Barco Longo,’ and as one of them related to a rich Spanish
ship which was shortly expected in these seas, the captain proposed
that it be read aloud in English, for the benefit of Messieurs the
adventurers, that, upon knowing the contents of the paper, they might
determine as they thought fit.
The crew received this oration with signs of great satisfaction,
and one or two cried out, ‘Ay, ay, translate the Don’s patter, and
then we will consider.’ Upon this, Le Chiffon Rouge made a sign to
Rumbold, who came forward, and placed the important letter in the
pearl merchant’s hands. Rumbold looked at the manuscript, which was
written in a fair hand, and then read out very fluently as follows;—
‘From my House at Ferrol.
Upon such a date.
‘Good and trusty Manual—
‘You having been absent at the mines in Darien, when, in sadness
and sorrow, I returned to the main land in the long-boat of the
great galleon, reft of all the treasures which the ship carried,
by the hands of plundering heretics, who, for our sins, the saints
permit to infest the Indian seas, I was not able personally to let
you know the particulars of our misfortune, and indeed I had but
small time and less heart to write the story. You are aware that in
a few days after reaching Porto Bello, to which place we scudded
before the wind, which was boisterous, I found a quick ship sailing
unto Spain, and having taken passage in her, we were so favoured
as to avoid all pirates, flibustiers, and buccaneers, and sail
very prosperously across the Atlantic hither. But as touching the
Carthagena galleon, that was indeed a heavy loss, and I have made
it my petition to the king that he will cause representations to be
sent to their majesties of England and France touching the conduct
and bearing of their subjects in our Indian seas. The manner of our
capture was very sudden. Two days sail from Carthagena, we beating
to windward, a sail was descried an hour before sunset, but which
vanished before the dusk closed, so that little or nothing more was
thought of the matter. As is my wont, I retired early to rest, the
worthy captain of the galleon assuring me that all was well, and a
very good look-out kept from all parts of the ship. But truly, our
look-out must have been maintained with but sleepy eyes, for as I
was dozing, just after having heard midnight chime from the clock
in the great cabin, and looking half asleep half awake at the lamp
as it swung to and fro, and made strange glimmerings and shadows
upon the tapestries, I suddenly heard a tremendous outcry, and the
running of feet upon the deck above, and then, Manual, a volley of
musketry, and one of those savage ‘hurrahs’ which are the war-cry
of the English, followed almost on the instant by a shock which
made the great galleon tremble and surge from side to side. At that
moment there came flying down the cabin-stairs our friend Collado,
of the Hermitage Plantation, his face like unto grey ashes, and
exclaiming that we were ruined and undone, for that while the watch
on deck slumbered, being incited thereto by the calmness of the
weather, a pirate schooner had suddenly laid the galleon on board,
and that our good captain had fallen in the very volley I had just
heard discharged.
‘But even while he was speaking the uproar on deck was renewed.
I heard the grating and rasping as the sides of the two vessels
encountered when they rolled, and the fierce outcries and clash
of steel, and frequent pistol and carbine shots fired while the
pirates were clambering up our lofty sides and leaping upon
the deck. They were devils, Manual. No man could resist them.
They yelled and fought, and seemed to despise their lives; and
accordingly, in a moment, and ere I could even put on my garments,
in came the spoilers, rushing down the cabin stairs; a tall and
strong old man, naked to the waist, and with a handkerchief twisted
round his grey hair, leading them on, sword and pistol in hand.
Thus were we constrained to surrender.
‘Nevertheless, Manual, I must do our spoilers this justice: they
sought not to harm our persons, and were even (in their way)
courteous to us their prisoners. This I say specially of the
leader, who was of lofty and somewhat dignified aspect, and whom
they called “Captain Jem,” and sometimes “Stout Jem.”’
Here Rumbold made a pause, as if to cough, and glanced slily at me.
Oh, how my heart leaped as I listened. Honest, noble Captain Jem!
No prisoners but what would have mercy and courtesy at thy hands!
Rumbold continued—
‘This old man presently desired to speak with me privately, and,
quoth he, “There was one of our crew captured by Spaniards at
Carthagena; tell me truly, is he dead or alive?” At this I bethought
me that there had been, indeed, an English prisoner examined at the
alcaide’s; for that strange man, Don José, had informed me of the
fact, and also that the Englishman behaved very boldly when put to
his trial; and this I told to the pirate captain, adding, that I
understood that he had made his escape into the woods, and, although
he had been seen in the streets of Carthagena at night, and hotly
pursued, yet that he had given all his followers the slip, and got
clear off, whither none knew. At this the old man wrung my hand in a
strange fashion, and whispering me, “I loved that young man as though
I were his parent,” added, “We make war upon you Spaniards, but we
are no thieves; therefore let each man of you take his clothes and
his private stock of money, and descend speedily into the boats. The
ship and cargo we claim, but not the private goods of passengers and
crew.”
‘I give thee all these particulars, good Manual, because thou art
deeply interested in all which befalls me, and so thou wilt not find
them tedious. And so, presently, with sorrowful hearts we descended
into our boats, and saw the galleon and the schooner trim their
course for Jamaica. So far touching our disaster; now to another
matter.’
‘And the matter which concerns us most, shipmates,’ said Jerry. ‘Go
on, Mr. Rumbold.’
I give the latter part of the letter with all its details although
the information involved in it came at last to nothing. Nevertheless,
I think it right to recount at length the document which caused us
to change our plans, and indirectly led to the loss of the ship. The
letter then ran somewhat as follows.—
‘And now, good Manual, our friend and correspondent, Juan Gramada,
of this town, designing speedily to send forth a goodly ship, bound
to Truxillo, and laden with wines, cloths, laces, and divers sorts
of goods proper for the Indian markets, I have advised him that he
should cause her to pause in her course at a certain barren cluster
of islets to windward of the Dutch possession of Curaçoa, and
considerably to the east of the usual cruising places of the pirates,
who, as I learn, do not often sail to windward of the Gulf of
Venezuela. These islets are called _Isles des Aves_, or Bird Islets.
I have landed upon them; they are not inhabited, save by countless
flocks of sea birds, and they are full of good harbours and creeks,
where a ship may commodiously ride at anchor. My advice, then, to
Juan Gramada, and he hath taken it, was to let his ship pause at
these islands, her captain having been there once before; and that,
in the mean time, you getting this letter, as I hope you will, about
a week or a fortnight after the ship sails from Spain, do dispatch an
agent in whom you can put trust in a good piragua, or small sailing
sloop, to the Isles des Aves, bearing intelligence as to whether
the seas westward be pretty clear, so as to make the run across the
Gulf of Darien as safe as possible. In case of your agent bringing
unfavourable or doubtful tidings, then the captain of Gramada’s ship
has instructions to direct the course of the vessel to any other port
in New Spain, or to the Havannah, as you may think fit, where the
wares can be disposed of to advantage.’
These were the chief points of the letter, the remainder being
devoted to private matters not of interest to any of us. But I
started again when I heard the name of the writer pronounced. It was
Pedro Davosa.
When Rumbold had ceased reading, Jerry took up the word. ‘Now,
comrades,’ quoth he, ‘you have heard the news. What say ye, shall
we continue our course to the south-west, or is there enough in
that letter to make us haul our wind, and beat up for the Isles des
Aves? I tell you that a cargo such as the writer mentioneth is worth
looking for, and it may be that we shall in the mean time light upon
prey as valuable running down from the islands as we should have met
upon the coast of the main.’
Upon this, Josiah Ward, being one of the oldest men on board, gave as
his opinion that we ought to steer eastward for the Isles des Aves,
keeping not far from the mouth of the Gulf of Venezuela, a bay which
many Spanish ships were wont to enter and depart from. This seemed
to settle the matter. The main-topsail was filled, and the direction
of the ship altered from south-west to south-east, and then, with a
hearty cheer as an opening to our new cruise, we moved away, leaving
the Barco Longo, with her overthrown mast, sadly drifting on the sea.
For three days we made good progress on our new course, descrying
occasionally small sails, but none we thought it worth while to
pursue. In the meantime Jerry was pleased to take much notice of
me, and often sounded me as to my relations to Rumbold. I deemed
it right, however, to give him but evasive replies. At length he
entreated me one evening to come and crush a bottle in the great
cabin, where he and certain others of the choicest spirits on board,
as he said, intended to drink success to the new venture of the Isles
des Aves. I was in no great humour for such festivities as I knew
prevailed on board the ‘Saucy Susan,’ but of course I could not but
signify my acquiescence. So, soon after it was dark that night, and
having seen that the watch on deck were sober, and that everything
appeared to be going on well, I repaired to the great cabin, where I
found the company assembled, and already pretty jovial.
The cabin in question was but a filthy hole, close and stinking,
with the beams so low that none could stand upright in it, and the
furniture all broken and hacked in the drunken orgies which often
took place there. There were arms and coils of rope, and broken
boxes, and casks half full of provisions and liquors stowed away in
corners amongst dirty bedding, and heaps of sea clothes flung upon
them, all wet as their owners had descended from the deck. Upon the
present occasion the usual rank smell of bilge was overpowered by the
fumes of tobacco, which all the company smoked, some of them seated
at a table covered with mugs and glasses, the others where they best
could, on casks, and boxes, and hammocks, or lying on the floor, upon
which, for the convenience of those who had no better place, were
scattered lanterns, that they might see their liquor and light their
pipes the more readily. When I entered all the company were singing
lustily a chorus to a tune called ‘Ye Buccaneers of England,’ and
having at length finished the ditty, I made my way as well as I could
to Rumbold, and managed to get a seat beside him. The conversation
then went on, Jerry’s loud voice and sturdy oaths bearing conspicuous
parts in it.
‘Doctor,’ quoth Le Chiffon Rouge to the surgeon, a lanky young
man, more than half fuddled, but who was discoursing learnedly to
his neighbour about the practice of phlebotomy as recommended by
Galen—‘is it good for Shambling Ned, who came by the cut from Vasco’s
knife, to drink raw rum.’
‘Shambling Ned,’ quoth the doctor, gravely, ‘hath a skull so thick,
that neither steel nor spirits can very easily reach the brain, and
therefore—’
‘Whoso says I have a thick skull,’ retorted the patient, starting up,
to the great surprise of the doctor, who had imagined him not there,
‘lies in his teeth, and as a testimony to what I say, I fling this
into them—’
With these words he dashed a pannikin of raw spirits right into the
doctor’s face, who started up, gasping and sneezing, and vowing
vengeance, but was straightway pulled down into his place again by
those about him, who comforted him by saying that brandy was not to
be quarrelled with in whatever way a man came by it. Just then the
highwayman, who had given me the account of his detection in Newgate,
and who was seated upon a high tub, over which he dangled his legs as
gracefully as he could, broke in as follows:—
‘Why, stap my vitals! here be a parcel of cullies to call themselves
gentlemen, forsooth, and brawl in their cups, like so many mumpers of
Lincoln’s Inn. Take an example by me, bullies, who am the very flower
of courtesy, having been noted therefor on every heath round London.
For shame, gentlemen, for shame!’
‘Ho! ho! ho!’ laughed the doctor; ‘here be a footpad teaching us
politeness, and the rules of the most courtlike society.’
‘Footpad in your teeth, Master Doctor,’ cried the highwayman. ‘I
scorn the word. A rider, sir; a rider by moonlight, for the benefit
of my health and my pocket.’
‘I tell you, Harris,’ Jerry here broke in, his roaring voice bearing
down all before it—‘I tell you, Harris, he lied to you. Curse me! I
know the roadstead well. I ought to, for I groped in there in as dark
a night as ever lowered on this side of hell, and boarded a Spanish
bark that was at anchor, and made all the fellows leap into the sea
in their shirts. A rare sight, I promise you; like geese flying into
a mill-pond. Those who could swim got ashore, and those who couldn’t
were drowned; so that in some sort they were all provided for—ha! ha!
ha! send the brandy this way. Care killed a cat!’
‘And so you made the dons jump into the salt water in their night
gear?’ cried an old man, with a villanous looking face above a grey
beard, and whose name was Cole. ‘It was prettily devised; but not
such good sport as I have seen in the plantations. Od rot it, man!
that be the place for your true sportsman. Why, I mind me, about a
dozen years since, when there comes a cargo of cheat-the-gallows
birds from over the water in a ship of old Lumper’s, he that hath the
wharves by Rotherhithe, and behold you, some dozen of stout fellows
being drinking on board, and getting the latest news of the bona
robas down by Finsbury Pavement from old mother Black-i’-the-face,
who came over then for shoplifting in the Poultry,—says Silas Blood,
him who was killed in the Tortugas by Francy Doubledee, says he:
“How’s the scurvy aboard this time, captain?” “Scurvy!” quoth the
captain; “bad enough, I warrant thee. Here has been some dozen rogues
put aboard, just after the gaol fever—and measly salt pork down among
the bilge water there, plays the devil with them. Scurvy, say you?
they are more like lepers than anything else.” “By God! then,” says
Silas—he was ever a joking man, “they ought to be washed clean. Let’s
duck the lepers from the yard-arm.” “Well, captain, you know, the
rogues were not worth a sixpence to anybody; not a planter would buy
such scabby dogs. So we had them up on deck, and it was the rarest
sport, man, the rarest, since eggs brought forth chickens, to see the
ragamuffins all screeching and yelling when they were triced up to
the tackling and doused alongside, them being just all in a fever,
as you may say, out of the hot blankets. We got the bona robas out
of the fore hatch to see the game, and didn’t they shriek out for
laughing, as the scurvy dogs went lick down into the sea!”
At the conclusion of this delectable tale, the old villain burst
out a laughing, rubbing his hands, which were shaking as though
with palsy, and chuckling with his toothless gums. It was relief to
turn from him to the highwayman, who was recounting stories of his
exploits.
‘“—But, good Mr. Robber, says she,” so was he continuing, as I caught
his voice; ‘“but good Mr. Robber,” and she put her pretty face out
of the coach window, taking from it a dainty vizard all fringed
with lace of silk and gold, “leave me just one of the lockets, and
I promise thee that when thou comest to be hanged I will send thee
so gay a nosegay that all the pretty women from Holborn Hill to the
Oxford Road shall cry,” “Ay, I warrant you, he hath that from his
sweetheart!” And so I, shipmates, being the pink of gentlemen riders,
could not but assent with a low bow, saying, “Madam, here be two
miniatures, one set in gold, very massive and rich, and the other
only in very ordinary stuff; I will, out of my admiration for you,
leave you which you may decide on;” and with that I handed her the
twain. I wish, comrades, you could have seen her holding a portrait
of an old gentleman and a young gentleman in each hand: “Here be my
husband,” quoth she, “very richly set and preciously adorned; and
here be my lover, with no gold at all around him. Master Highwayman,
affection is dearer than gold; I give thee my husband, and I keep my
lover.”’
The highwayman’s story was even more applauded than old Cole’s
reminiscence of the plantations, and then drinking went on very hard,
Jerry, in particular, tossing off bumper after bumper of raw brandy,
and laughing and shouting verses of loose songs, so that he might
have been heard a league off. All the thorough brute in the man’s
nature was now becoming apparent. Most of the others were bad enough
in their liquor, telling such tales as I have given specimens of, but
Jerry swilled down his draughts of fiery spirits, and, as a dog which
hath so far derogated from his natural instincts as to get drunk
might do, merely roared and yelled, and caught at the men who sat
near him by the doublets, cuffing and shaking them, and shrieking out
that that was what he loved, and that they would all be drunk! drunk!
drunk! together! Of those who kept themselves soberest, I remarked
Tommy Nixon, who, I noticed also, gradually edging his way round to
Rumbold, who sat almost silent, his acute mind and far-extending
knowledge disdaining to clothe his thoughts in words, and cast them
before such swine.
‘Master Rumbold,’ said the worthy Nixon, ‘do you love oysters?’
At that question I saw very well what the man was driving at, and
watched him narrowly—‘Because,’ he went on, ‘men say there are
delicious ones on the banks of the Rio de la Hacha! Perhaps you dived
and picked up a few during your recent voyagings in that half-decked
piragua, from the dangers of which we were so kind as to rescue thee.’
‘Truly,’ replied Rumbold, ‘if by oysters you mean pearls—’
‘Hush! speak lower,’ said Nixon; ‘thou art a sensible fellow, and
being a gentleman, knowest that thy passage on board the “Saucy
Susan” must be paid. As for me, I am not greedy, as all the world can
testify!’ and here he dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘None but the
captain, Jerry, and I, know aught. Let me make thy terms; it will be
the better for us all.’
‘Why, Tommy Nixon,’ said Rumbold, ‘I marvel that a man of thy
discretion should go forth with a handful of salt to put upon the
tail of an old sparrow like myself. Why, the pearls are all gone in
the piragua, and I trust that by this time my agent in Jamaica hath
them under very advantageous lock and key.’
Rumbold said this with such perfect coolness, and with so frank
an air of simple candour, that I hastily passed my hand inside my
doublet to feel if the leathern pouch were really there, or if I had
dreamed the whole matter. No, there was the precious burden, pressed
against my bosom. I looked warily at Nixon; he seemed disturbed and
vexed.
‘’Twere better not trifle, Harry Rumbold,’ he made reply; ‘come, give
me a ransom, and I shall let you off the rest. I can twirl Jerry
round my thumb; he is only a strong animal and a good sailor, and
as for Chiffon Rouge, he is captain but for our own reasons. Pay me
a ransom, old Harry, and all shall go well with thee; come, only a
small handful of the seed pearls. Thou hast got them cheap, thou old
thief, thou knowest thou hast—come.’
‘I tell you,’ answered Rumbold, ‘I have not a pearl in my possession.
Search me an’ you like. You are too clever, Tommy Nixon, and you
cheated yourself when you took me aboard. Search me, man, and be
satisfied.’
Nixon and Rumbold looked stedfastly into each other’s eyes for the
space of a minute. The former, at length, muttered, as slowly as if
the words were dragged from him by some other force than that of his
own will, ‘That thou hast not a pearl in thy possession—that, Harry
Rumbold, will be seen!’
But just at this moment, a burst of discordant singing, led on by
the bellowing voice of Jerry, drowned in a moment all the clatter of
conversation, and the jingling and clashing of pannikin and glass.
What were the words or what was the air of the song, it would be
difficult to say, seeing that every man sang according to his own
peculiar liking; but Jerry’s voice rose above all, hallooing this
elegant stanza of a ditty common among certain of the Buccaneers—
‘Haul, cheerily, jades of Jamaica,
And trulls of Tortugas also,
The wenches have hold of the tow-rope,
And across the salt sea we do go—
Across the salt sea we do go, boys,
To the Sues and the Prues on the shore,
Where he hath no wife may find one,
And he who hath one may have more.’
‘Excellent, upon my reputation!’ shouted the highwayman; ‘Sedley
could not have made better, nor Tom D’Urfey either. Well did I know
both.’
‘Sedley! Tom D’Urfey!—who be they?’ roared the drunken mate. ‘That
song was made of a rare merry night, carousing in a burnt house
of Maracaibo, when the place was taken under stout l’Olonnais and
Michael le Basque. Here, more brandy; fill up, comrades. On your
feet—your feet! He who standeth not, saving only he be dead drunk,
will I cut down with my hanger. On your feet, I say, and do reason
to a pledge. Here’s to our next carouse on the Isles des Aves—on the
wines that come from Ferrol in old Spain. Huzza!’
And the sots upon the floor, staggering to their feet, waved
lanterns and flagons, and shouted and yelled with drunken voices—‘To
our next carouse in the Isles des Aves.’
‘Drink—drink, all of you—the liquor is free; it costs nothing,’ Jerry
continued, staggering as he rose from his seat; ‘drink, I say, or
I’ll cram an empty bottle down the gullet of every man that’s sober.’
And, with a drunken hiccup, he seized a lantern, and, waving it round
his head, flung it to the other end of the cabin.
The revellers shouted a furious chorus of applause.
Meantime, the watch on deck, hearing the tumult, began to flock
below, when their comrades seized them, and, with maudlin caresses,
held up to them cups of drink, which they, nothing loath, swallowed
greedily down. All discipline seemed over and gone, for not a soul
was left upon the deck to tend the sails, to conn, or to steer.
‘Comrades,’ cried Jerry, articulating with difficulty, ‘I
propose—that until the morning—the ‘Saucy Susan’—be left—(hiccup)—to
take care of—herself!’
Another loud chorus of approbation welcomed this proposition, the
shouting and laughter being followed by the usual outburst of
discordant singing and swearing.
‘Here be what I like,’ vociferated the old sinner, Cole—‘here be
true merriment! Keep it up. Pitch him who shirks overboard after the
Portuguese.’
‘Even so,’ says the highwayman; ‘first to go down to the bottom of
the sea, and then to go down ever so far below that. The first part
of the journey cold and wet, egad, but the ending of it hot and dry
enough.’
‘Here’s a stave, bullies, here’s a stave that they sing in Bridewell
when the jades beat the hemp that hangs their fancy men. Give it
mouth, bullies—give it mouth!’ And here the miscreant, who had
boasted to me of having broken every gaol in England, sang, with a
mellow voice, for he was not yet quite drunk, having but just come
from the deck—
‘Up with your hammers, Bessy and Madge—
Up with your hammer, Sue;
Plait their cravats for Joe, Tom, and Jack—
Cravats they’ll grin grimly through!
Never hang head, girls, and never look glum,
Though they strap for it, all the three,
There’s stout fellows plenty are left in the world,
In spite of old Tyburn tree!’
I would the reader could see the great cabin with all the drunkards
in it, as now it appeared. Some sat in sodden solemnity muttering
to themselves; some rolled, cursing and fighting, on the floor;
others disputed and drank, trying, as it were, to outscream their
adversaries. The watch on deck, who had but newly come down, said
not much, but drank off great goblets of spirits, as if it were a
race who should be intoxicated first; and so, in good sooth, in a
very short space of time, the new comers were as madly drunk as
the original revellers. But in all the insanity of the excitement,
Jerry kept the lead. His face was all flushed and distorted with the
liquor, and he champed foam and saliva from his mouth—
‘Here,’ he roared, ‘a health—to the—good fellows—who cry stand and
deliver—to the Dons. Bumpers, and no heel-taps! Huzza! up yees out!’
And following his example, all the rest drained their glasses, and
flung them in a volley over their shoulders.
‘More honour—to that toast,’ hiccuped out the brutal man; and,
suddenly drawing two pistols from his belt, he fired them right and
left into the air.
‘Huzza!’ shouted the others—‘huzza!’ and in a minute knives were
flashing, and, amid shouts and yells, the cabin rung to some half
dozen of pistol shots fired in imitation of the leader of the
debauch, in the midst of which a wild screech rose from the darkest
corner of the cabin, and Josiah Ward staggered out, his face all
blood, and fell at full length on the floor.
‘Ho! ho!’ shouted Jerry, with an insane roar of laughter; ‘a bullet
found its billet. Caulk the shot-hole with the stopper of a brandy
flask; it will be better in a man’s flesh than in a bottle to-night.’
A scream of laughter answered this proposal, and some half-dozen of
the company getting up, either to aid or mock the wounded man, fell
in a heap, shouting and swearing above him.
‘Nixon—Tommy Nixon—you don’t drink—Nixon—you thief—you are sober,’
yelled Jerry. ‘There’s mischief in it—comrades! mischief! But here,
we’ll alter all that—bring hither that tub.’
The tub of which he spoke was an empty bucket, which rolled upon the
floor. It was immediately plucked up, and trundled along the table to
where he stood staggering at the head of it.
‘Now fetch me them brandy-bottles,’ cries the mate.
‘Go easy, go easy,’ says Nixon.
‘Easy,’ retorted Jerry, in his passion; ‘thou art but a cur, Tommy
Nixon, to shirk the bottle in that fashion; but thy throat shall
scald for it—there.’
And at the last word the drunken villain caught up a flask of brandy
by the neck, and smashed it into the bucket. ‘There, and there, and
there,’ he shouted, dashing in bottle after bottle. ‘And now, Nixon,
since you wont drink brandy raw, you shall drink it burning, my son.’
In a moment, and before any one could interfere, the savage caught up
a candle, burning on the table before him, and flung it all alight
into the raw spirits.
Rumbold and I uttered a cry of horror as the brandy flashed up in
a blue flickering blaze to the very ceiling of the cabin, but the
besotted company only shouted and cheered.
‘Come, Tommy Nixon,’ roared the mate, ‘dip thy beak into that
snapdragon—come.’
And so saying, he grasped the man with both his brawny fists.
‘Let go, let go your hold, you idiot!’ cried Nixon, ‘you will have
the ship on fire.’
‘And what’s that to me!’ shouted the infuriated man. ‘An’ you will
not drink, by God I shall souse thy head in the burning liquor.’
At these words they grappled, and yelling and cursing, they fought
for a minute or two, staggering backwards and forwards, when the
brute force of Jerry prevailing, he dragged Nixon up to the blaze,
and dashed him head first into the flame, falling himself on the top
of the struggling wretch, and upsetting the tub, which instantly sent
a flood of liquid fire surging all over the cabin.
Oh, then, the oaths, the yells, the frantic strugglings, which filled
that hell upon the waters! Dozens of bottles had been already broken
or spilt, and their contents, surging about, had thoroughly drenched
the clothes of the wallowing brutes, who lay sprawling upon the
floor. The cabin was, in a moment, one blaze of flame, in which men
with their clothes and hair a-fire, and their faces livid and ghastly
in the glare, leaped and staggered, and sought to clamber on barrels
and casks, blaspheming, and screaming, and scuffling madly with each
other.
‘Up, up!’ shouted Rumbold, ‘up for dear life!’ All that I have
described took place almost in the time that one sees a flash of
lightning. In a moment, without knowing how I had done it, I was upon
the deck, with my clothes and hair singed, but otherwise unscathed.
As I drew in the first blessed breath of the fresh cool night, a loud
explosion shook the deck under our feet, and we heard the tinkling
crash of the cabin windows as the glass was blown out of them.
‘There went a powder flask!’ cried Rumbold; and then, as if the word
appalled him, he staggered back from me, crying—
‘The magazine—the magazine—it is just beneath the floor of the cabin!’
What I did for the next moment I hardly know. It is only a vision, of
rushing to the davits where a quarter boat hung—of the rope flying
hot through my hand—of Rumbold searching frantically for oars on the
deck, while a blue flame streamed up through the sky-light and cabin
stairs, and the shrieks of the burning men mingled in the roar of the
fierce fire!
But in that vision, I had one awful glimpse down into the cabin. May
I be enabled to forget what I saw! The masses of fat meat, the dry
bedding, the clothes scattered on the floor, masses of them being
drenched with spirits, were all flaming together, while the drunkards
rolled, roaring and scuffling, on the table and the floor, their
flesh actually scorching from the bones! I say no more on’t. Would I
could think no more on’t.
Over the side went we with a single leap down into the surging boat.
‘Off, off—push off!’ And as the pinnace glanced away from the ship,
tongues of flame curled and roared out of the cabin windows all round
the stern. ‘Pull for life!’ We stretched to the oars like madmen, and
the boat flew over the water. The mizen-sail, which was as dry as
dust, for there was no dew, caught fire from the blaze, roaring up
from the sky-light, and in a minute, the scorching element ran all
aloft, blazing along the ropes, licking up the broad sails, making
the strong canvas tinder, and lighting up for miles and miles the
lone midnight sea! There! A bright sheet of red fire shot forth, as
if a volcano had burst out under the ocean, the glare showing us for
an instant, and no more, a vision of huge beams, and rent masses of
timber, flying out and upwards; and then—just as we heard the sound
of the explosion, not a loud sharp crack, but a smothered roar, which
made all the air shake palpably around us—down with a stately swoop,
fell the flaming mizen-mast into the sea!
We sat in speechless horror—unable to move our oars. Then all the
fire, low and aloft, disappeared with a loud hiss, and a great white
cloud of steam rose boiling from the wreck, loud sounds of cracking
and rending timber coming forth from the vapour, mingled with the
gurgling rush of water pouring into and sucking down the shattered
ship. After this, the white smoke rose and floated like a canopy,
all above our heads, and we gazed and gazed, but saw nothing on the
midnight sea.
‘They are gone—it is all over,’ said Rumbold. ‘Lord, have mercy on
their sinful souls.’
To this I solemnly responded, with my heart as with my tongue, ‘Amen!
amen!’