_Marine Phraseology. Approach of the Piratical Brig. History
of Captain Rowland. A Conflict expected. A Boat from the
Shore. The Ship Surrenders. Sudden appearance of Blackbeard
and Ellen Armstrong on board of the Brig. Heroic Conduct of
Arthur Huntington. Ellen steps between him and Death. The
Result. Ellen in Despair._
'Mast-head, there!'
'Halloo.'
'Keep a sharp look-out there for a sail.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
The above short but professional dialogue took place between Captain
Roderick Rowland, of the good ship Gladiator, and his third officer, (a
Mr. Summers by name,) who had been sent to the main-top gallant
mast-head immediately after the Earl of Derwentwater and his companions
had left the vessel, with the single order, at first, to keep a sharp
look-out for the many rocks and reefs which surrounded the island, but
Summers had not assumed his station for many minutes before he was
peremptorily ordered, (as we have above recorded,) to look out for sails
as well as for rocks, which caused the sailor who stood upon the other
end of the cross-trees, and who was on regular mast-head duty, thus to
address the third officer,--
'Do you suppose, Mr. Summers, that our captain really expects to fall in
with a sail in this out-o'-the-way kind of spot?'
'Of course he does,' replied Summers, 'or he wouldn't have told me to
look out for one. But why shouldn't a sail be seen here, Bill, as well
as anywhere else?'
'Well, I can't exactly say, sir,' answered Bill, (who, by the way, was a
fine specimen of a rough and rugged old tar,) 'but I have understood
that ships in general have of late years given this little bit of an
island a wide berth.'
'Did ever you hear the reason why?' asked Summers.
'Yes, sir, more than forty times, and if my watch wasn't almost out I
could spin you a yarn as long as our main-top bowline about the
"reason," as you call it.'
Smiling at the seriousness with which the old tar had spoken, the
officer replied,
'O never mind the yarn now, Bill, nor the reason either, but look sharp
there, about three points off our bow, and see if you cannot catch a
glimpse of something high and white, like a sail: I believe I can.'
'And so can I, too, sir,' exclaimed Bill, after having looked for a few
moments in the direction intimated.
'It's a strange sail, then, sure enough,' answered the third officer.
'There's no mistake about that, sir,' replied Bill. 'What do you make
her out to be, sir?'
'I should take her to be a full rigged brig,' answered Summers.
'So should I,' rejoined the sailor. 'She has got studding sails out
a-low and aloft, and appears to be coming up with us hand over fist.
Shall I sing out to the captain, sir?'
'No--I will myself. On deck, there!'
'Halloo; what do you see?' answered the captain.
'A full rigged brig, sir.'
'Where away?'
'Three points off our weather-bow.'
'How does she appear to be heading?'
'Direct for us, sir,' was the answer, and as it reached the ears of the
captain, he turned to the first officer, who stood beside him, and
said--
'Mr. Howe, that strange vessel must be a pirate.'
'What makes you think so, sir?' asked the first lieutenant.
'Because,' replied the Captain, 'if she was anything else she would not
be steering directly for us with studding-sails set.'
'Perhaps it may be some vessel in distress,' suggested the lieutenant.
'That may be the case, though I doubt it much,' answered the captain,
abruptly, 'but, as I do not wish to create a premature and unnecessary
alarm amongst the passengers, we will put the ship on the opposite tack,
and then if this stranger is in distress he will show a signal.'
In accordance with the above decision of her commander, the Gladiator,
which had been previously standing off from the land, was, (to use a
nautical phrase,) immediately put about, which caused her to head in
towards the land, and this movement brought the strange brig on the
weather quarter, or nearly astern of the ship, and also made her visible
to the first lieutenant, who stood eagerly watching for her appearance,
on the Gladiator's deck. As soon as he felt sure that his eyes had not
deceived him, he said, addressing the captain,
'There she is, sir.'
'Where?' exclaimed Rowland, eagerly, snatching his spy-glass from its
place in the cabin gangway.
'She is in plain sight, sir,' answered the lieutenant, about one point
off our weather-quarter.'
'Ah, I see her,' exclaimed the captain after he had looked for a moment
through his spy-glass in the direction intimated.
'Does she show any signal, sir?'
'She does not,' replied Rowland, 'and I am convinced she is a piratical
vessel. Therefore, Mr. Howe, you will see the ship instantly cleared for
action.'
Whilst this last order of the captain was in progress of execution,
Rowland, spy-glass in hand, ascended the mizzen rigging of the ship, and
kept his eyes intently fixed upon the brig, thus soliloquising as he did
so:--
'It is rather a delicate, not to say desperate game, which I have
undertaken to play, though so far I have the vanity to think that I have
acted my part to admiration. By the most consummate art and address I
managed to gain the command of this noble ship, and no one on board, as
far as I can learn, has the least suspicion of the manner in which I
intend to dispose of her. So far, so good. Now as we are pretty snug in
with the land, I will take a look in that direction and see if I can
discover what measures are in progress on shore.'
So saying he adjusted his glass to his right eye and turned his gaze
towards that part of the island on which the earl and his companions had
landed, and after having looked attentively for a few moments in that
direction, he exclaimed, whilst a smile of exultation passed across his
features,
'Ah, Rowland, you're a deep one, and a fortunate one, too. Every thing
connected with your plans seems to prosper, on land as well as sea.
Blackbeard has proved himself a good assistant, too, for I can see that
he has taken good care of the young ladies, whilst at the same time I
perceive that he is about to send the gentlemen back again to their old
quarters. I must wear ship, I suppose, and take them on board.' 'On
deck, there!'
'Aye, aye, sir,' answered the first lieutenant.
'Put the ship upon the other tack, and brace the head-yards sharp up,
leaving the main and main top-sail yards square.'
After this last order had been duly and promptly complied with Captain
Rowland descended quickly to the deck, upon reaching which, was thus
addressed by his first officer:--
'See, sir, how fast that strange brig gains upon us.'
'I see she does,' answered Rowland, 'and I am sorry that we are obliged
to lay aback here, when we should be trying to get the weather-gauge of
her. But there is no help for it, for I observe that the earl and his
companions have left the shore, and they are now pulling for dear life
in order to reach us in time.'
Leaving for the present, the noble Gladiator, with her decks clear for
action, and her brave crew awaiting in eager silence, the nearer
approach of the piratical vessel, we will proceed to give our readers as
much information of the previous character of Captain Roderick Rowland,
as is consistent with the present condition and future progress of the
scenes of our story, in some of which he is destined to act a
conspicuous part.
Descended of wealthy, honorable, and respectable parents, who resided at
the time of his birth, (which event happened some forty years before the
commencement of our story,) young Rowland, gave during his boyhood such
evidences of extraordinary natural capabilities, and superior
intellectual capacity, as led those who were connected and acquainted
with him to suppose that he might, at some future day, rise to a high
rank in the British navy, for which service he seemed to have an
unconquerable predilection, and which he entered as midshipman at the
age of sixteen. Then it was that his true character began to develope
itself, so that during his first cruise, its natural deformity became so
apparent as to cause the rest of the officers to look with fear and
astonishment upon one, in whom the gifts of extraordinary talents seemed
to have been lavished, only to become blended with cunning, artfulness
and licentious profligacy, whose disposition was mean and avaricious,
and whose temper, though not violent, was cruel, revengeful and
unforgiving.
Although young Rowland was also a complete master of the art of
dissimulation he did not deem it worth his while to exercise it among
the young gentleman of his mess, and he had been but a short time on
board His Majesty's ship Vixen, before he was very much feared, and very
cordially hated by his equals, whilst he was looked upon with uneasiness
and disgust by his superiors.
All these things combined together, rendered Rowland's situation
anything but agreeable; so after having been a twelvemonth in the
service, he very abruptly left it by taking, what is vulgarly called, a
'French leave' of the Vixen and her officers, whilst that vessel was
taking in provisions and water at the island of Madagascar. Here,
Rowland, at the age of eighteen, soon fell in with a gang of American
and English bucaniers, who, some years previous to that time, had
pitched upon this island as a convenient rendezvous to which they might
be easily able to repair for recruits and recreation after having, (as
they often did,) successfully robbed the rich homeward bound East
Indiamen, for whom they usually laid in wait near the pitch of the Cape
of Good Hope.
It required but very little persuasion on the part of the pirates to
induce one to join them, whose spirit was congenial with theirs, so he
very soon became one of the most active and daring of their number.
Courage, cunning and cruelty were considered by them to be the most
important qualifications of a bona-fide bucanier, and they soon found
that these were possessed by Rowland, in a most superlative degree, and
this added to the influence of his talents and early education, caused
him to rise rapidly to a station of command among them. As it was his
motto 'to make hay while the sun shines,' he sailed as soon as possible
from Madagascar, from which he had not been absent but twenty days when
he fell in with and captured a Spanish Galleon, bound from Genoa to
Lisbon, laden with a large amount of gold and silver ornaments, which
was the property of the church, and was under the care of a number of
ecclesiastics who had taken passage in the unfortunate vessel.
There were a number of other passengers on board, amongst whom was Don
Fernando Herrera, who was accompanied by his daughter a beautiful
Castilian maiden, then about seventeen years of age, who doated upon her
father with all the fondness of a pure and filial affection.
As Rowland acted almost invariably on the principle that dead men tell
no tales, he caused all the passengers to be put to death, in detail,
until it came the turn of Herrera. As he was about to be cast into the
sea, his daughter sprang wildly forward, and kneeling before the cruel
pirate captain, she beseeched him in such earnest and pathetic tones to
spare her father's life, or let her die in his stead, that Rowland,
fired by the voluptuousness of her extreme beauty, and perhaps touched
by her tears, promised to spare her father on condition that she would
become his wife. Such were the dread alternatives. Death for her father
and herself on one hand, and the sacrifice forever of her happiness and
peace of mind on the other. In the extremity of her terror, Clarice,
(for that was her name,) chose the latter, and that very same night she
was united to Rowland, by her own priest and confessor who was compelled
to officiate in the ceremony, and her father was compelled to will all
of his vast riches in the event of his death to his murderous
son-in-law. After having taken to himself a wife in the above strange
and summary manner, Rowland repaired to the West Indies, where his
father-in-law died soon after his arrival, leaving to the pirate, a vast
amount of money and other property, which enabled him to establish
himself at Havana, in a most splendid and magnificent manner. His
inordinate desire for wealth however still remained unsatiated, and
although he left off all open communication with his former associates,
(the bucaniers,) still he secretly patronized them, and in return was
made acquainted with the result of all their efforts and received a
goodly share of their plunder.
Three years had passed away, and Clarice in the interim had presented
her husband a boy, but by this time the Spanish authorities had got wind
of the manner in which Rowland had obtained his riches, and he was
forced to leave Havana, and most of his vast property at the same time,
and sail clandestinely and under an assumed name for England. Here he
took up his residence in an obscure street of the metropolis where after
the expiration of two years, Clarice gave birth to a daughter, whilst
relentless death hovered over the fair form of the mother, and soon
after removed her gently from the sin and sorrows of a wicked world.
Soon after the decease of his wife, Rowland suddenly left England, but
he returned again about a year previous to the commencement of our
story, and managed, through sundry letters of recommendation which he
himself had forged, to gain the command of the Gladiator.
Leaving the intervening events of his life to become elucidated in the
further progress of our story, we will here put an end to our long but
important digression and return again to the unravelling of its main
thread, by transporting the attention of our readers once more to the
deck of Rowland's noble ship.
Here every one was at his station, every thing in its right place, and
every soul on board the Gladiator was almost breathlessly watching the
near approach of the piratical brig, as, with the horrid black flag
flying from her main royal truck, she came sailing majestically down
upon the ship, and it was expected by the crew of the latter that an
instant combat between the two vessels was inevitable.
Judge then, kind reader, of their supreme astonishment and indignation
when they heard the captain, (as the brig fired a couple of blank
cartridges across his bows as a signal for him to surrender,) give the
following order:
'Mr. Howe, haul down the colors! immediately.'
Instead of jumping immediately, as was generally his wont to obey
Rowland's orders, the first lieutenant stood perfectly still, regarding
the captain with a puzzled and undecided manner, as much as to ask if he
had rightly understood the purport of his superior's words.
'Haul down the colors!' exclaimed the captain the second time, and as he
spoke in a stern, loud tone of voice, which precluded all
misunderstanding, the first lieutenant, for the first time ventured an
answer in the following words:
'Captain Rowland, I must own that I am at a loss to perceive the
necessity of hauling down our colors, when we have twice the number of
guns possessed by the brig, which would, in case of a conflict, enable
us easily to save the ship as well as our own lives.'
'I believe this ship is under my command and not yours, Mr. Howe,'
replied Rowland, coolly, 'and I alone am responsible for her safety.
Again, sir, I order you to haul down the colors.'
There was something in the cold, calm, passionless manner of Rowland,
which awed the lieutenant into compliance, notwithstanding he was
naturally a brave man, and he therefore walked forward and repeated to
one of the men the captain's order, which a moment afterwards was
sullenly obeyed, then a shout of exultation rose up from the crew of the
piratical brig, whilst a gun was fired in triumph as her commander
prepared to board the ship which had been so ingloriously placed without
a struggle within his grasp.
By the time the boat was lowered from the brig, she had ranged up so
near the side of the ship, as rendered easy to distinguish from the deck
of each the countenances of those on board the other, and as the Earl of
Derwentwater and Arthur Huntington, (who had boarded the ship almost
unperceived at the time of her surrender,) gazed upon the dark swarthy
forms which crowded the sides of the brig, the former suddenly
exclaimed--
'Gracious Heaven, Arthur,--yonder on that strange vessel's deck stands
Ellen Armstrong with that villain who calls himself the Pirate of the
Roanoke close by her side.'
'It cannot be,--where is she?' exclaimed Arthur, involuntarily. 'Thank
God, I see her,' he exclaimed, after gazing a moment upon the brig's
deck. Another minute elapsed and he was in the water, before any one
could anticipate, much less prevent his movements, making towards the
piratical brig, which, (as he was an excellent swimmer,) he managed to
reach, and he soon found himself by the side of sweet Ellen Armstrong
whom he thus addressed:
'Good God! Ellen, how came you here!'
'Arthur!' exclaimed Ellen, faintly,--but she said no more, though
Blackbeard answered his query as follows:
'What rashness, young man, caused you to come here?'
'I have come here,' replied Arthur, 'with all the calmness of
desperation, to rescue this young lady or die in the attempt.'
'What an uncommonly heroic young gentleman you must be,' responded
Blackbeard, satirically, 'to attempt unarmed, and single-handed, the
rescue of a young girl from the midst of a hundred armed men. You must
certainly be either moon-struck or love-cracked.'
'And you must be a cold-blooded, heartless villain,' exclaimed Arthur,
irritated beyond endurance at the scorching irony of the pirate's tone.
'Those are words, young man, which only your life-blood can atone for,'
exclaimed the pirate, as he drew a pistol from his belt, and presented
it to the young man's breast. 'Die, upstart, die!'
'Rather let me die,' exclaimed sweet Ellen Armstrong, as, quicker than
thought, she sprang between the murderous weapon and Arthur's person.
The pirate fired, but the ball did not take effect, and was about to
present his second pistol, when he suddenly stopped, and thus addressed
a portion of his comrades, who had in meantime gathered round this
strange scene.
'Some of you take these two fools below, and confine them in separate
apartments until I can attend to the hanging of them.'
Immediately upon the reception of this order, Ellen was dragged by the
rough hands of two piratical officers into the brig's cabin, where she
was locked up in a small state room, whilst Arthur Huntington, was
heavily ironed and confined in the steerage. As the fair Ellen sat in
her narrow prison, brooding in mute despair over the horrid scenes she
had just passed through, she covered her face with her hands and faintly
murmured,
'If Arthur dies, I cannot survive him.'