Jack Rogers stood near the gun at which he had been placed in the
slavers' fort. He had plenty of time to consider how he should act;
but, turn the matter over in his mind as much as he would, he could not
arrive at a satisfactory decision. The alternatives left for his choice
were to fire at his friends or to be shot himself. The slave-traders
and their assistants, and the slavers' crews who stood around him, were
fellows whose very ill-looking countenances showed that they would not
scruple to execute with very scant warning any threat they had made. An
older man than Jack might have felt very uncomfortable under such
circumstances. A more evil-disposed band of ruffians could not often
have been collected together. They were of all colours, from those who
called themselves white to negroes of the most ebon hue. Not that the
whites had much claim to the distinction, for they were so bronzed by
sun and wind that they were almost as dark as the Africans, and
certainly they were not the least villainous-looking of the gang. Two
of them especially, who had belonged to the crew of the schooner Jack
had assisted to capture, seemed to have recognised him, and paid him
very particular and disagreeable attention. One of them politely handed
him a rammer, and showed him how he was to load his gun, while the other
put a pistol under his nose, and exhibiting the perfect condition of the
lock, explained with a mild smile that it was not at all likely to miss
fire. Jack smelt at the pistol, and flourished the rammer.
"Very good powder I have no doubt," he remarked, looking as unconcerned
as possible, "but I cannot say that I admire its odour. If any of you
have a pinch of snuff to offer me now, I should be obliged to you. I
want something to overcome the smell of the mud, which is anything but
pleasant, let me assure you."
The Spaniard, though he did not understand what Jack said, comprehended
his signs; and, thus appealed to, could not resist pulling out his
snuff-box and offering it to him, though he fully intended, in case of
any sign of insubordination, to blow out his brains at a moment's
notice. Jack dipped his fingers into the snuff-box with all the
coolness and as great an air as he could command. He knew that his best
chance of escape was to throw his captors off their guard. "_Bueno,
bueno_," he remarked, scattering the snuff under his nose as he had seen
Spaniards do, for in reality he had no wish to take any up his nostrils.
The slave-traders could not help shrugging their shoulders, and
thinking that they had got hold of a very independent sort of young
gentleman. They talked together a good deal, and from what they said
Jack made out that they were proposing to invite him to join them. "A
very good joke," he thought to himself; "the rascals! I'll humour them
in it, however; it will certainly afford me a better chance of escape."
During this time a number of blacks were pouring into the fort, carrying
all sorts of arms, most of them matchlocks of very antique construction,
though some were muskets which had probably not long before left the
workshops of Birmingham. Jack, hoping that he had thrown his captors a
little off their guard, shouldered his rammer, and walked about to try
and obtain a more perfect notion of the state of affairs. Looking
through the stockades, he saw that the fort commanded entirely the reach
of the river, at the extreme upper end of which it was situated. The
stream there made a sudden bend, nearly doubling back on itself; and as
the fort was placed almost on this point, the guns in it could fire
point-blank right down the stream. No boats had yet appeared, but from
the look of intense eagerness exhibited on the countenances of all the
blacks, he had no doubt that they were near at hand. The whole fort was
in a great state of bustle, if not of confusion. The black warriors
were running about here and there, chattering away to each other, and
examining not only their own arms, but those of everybody else. Some of
them Jack saw squinting down the barrels of their companions' muskets,
to try and ascertain the cause, apparently, of their not going off,
while the man at the other end would snap the lock without giving the
slightest warning. One of them after this came up to Jack, and, by
signs and a few words of English, requested him politely to look into
the muzzle of his musket and ascertain why it would not "fire! bang!" as
he expressed it, intimating that he had already put in several charges.
Jack declined that mode of proceeding, but begged to look at the other
end. Jack burst into a fit of laughter. "The reason, _amigo_, is this
_intendez ustedes_," he answered, as soon as he could find breath to
speak. "There's no flint to your lock, and if there had been, the
touch-hole is well stopped up with rust, so you had two very secure
preventives against its going off. I only hope that the rest of you
have arms of a like character. Not much fear for my friends then." He
picked out the touch-hole, however, for the negro, telling him that he
must put a match into the pan when he wanted to fire it. He resolved,
however, to stand clear of the negro when he fired it; for he had little
doubt that when he did so the barrel would burst, and do much more
damage to the defenders of the fort than to the assailants. Jack was in
hopes that the guns mounted in the fort would prove to be in a similar
condition; but on examining them he soon saw that they were ship's guns,
and were in very good order. He had managed by his independent manner,
by this time, to throw the slave-dealers off their guard. He waited for
an opportunity when they were not watching him, and then hurried back to
the gun of which they had given him charge. As he could not manage to
withdraw the shot, he knocked in a wedge, which gave it an elevation
calculated to carry it far over the heads of any of the attacking party.
He looked round when he had done this, to ascertain whether he had been
observed, but the white men had turned round for some purpose, and the
blacks did not seem to comprehend what he had been about. "At all
events, I shall not have to fire at my friends," he thought to himself,
"and now the sooner they come on the better for me." Scarcely had these
words passed through his mind than he observed a great commotion among
the motley garrison of the fort, and, looking through the embrasure at
which his gun was placed, he caught sight of several boats just rounding
the point at the other end of the reach. He could not make out who was
commander-in-chief of the present gang of villains with whom he was
associated. The two Spaniards, who had at first paid him so much polite
attention, were evidently not even officers. A huge black man, with a
very ugly visage, seemed to have considerable authority. He was engaged
in marshalling the negroes, and posting them at the stockades ready to
make use of their firearms. The burly sovereign of the territory was
nowhere to be seen. He probably thought discretion the best part of
valour, and had retired again to his capital, to await the results of
the contest. At last Jack's eyes fell on a little wizened old Spaniard
in a straw hat, nankeen trousers, and a light blue coat, who, as soon as
he made his appearance, began to order about everybody in an
authoritative and energetic manner, and very quickly brought the
confused rabble of defenders into order. Two or three other Spaniards,
who from their appearance seemed to be officers, came with him. He had
evidently just arrived from a distance, summoned in a hurry, probably,
to defend the fort. He went round, looking at the guns, and Jack was
very much afraid that he would examine his. Just, however, as he was
about to do so up went a rocket high into the sky, let off probably as a
signal for some purpose or other. It had the effect of calling off the
old man's attention from him. The people in the advancing boats seemed
not to have any notion that they were so near the fort, for they pulled
on, without in any way quickening their speed, right up towards the
guns.
Jack had remarked the mode in which the place was fortified, so likely
to lead strangers into a trap. In front of the stockades was a deep
broad ditch, and then beyond it rose a low bank of soft slimy mud, held
together by reeds and aquatic plants, and which sloped away again down
to the river. This bank was covered at high water, but even then Jack
doubted whether a boat could be got across it. The slave-traders and
blacks grinned as they thought of the trap into which the British seamen
were about to fall. Jack watched the approach of the boats. Oh! how he
longed to warn his friends of the danger threatening them. He would
have shouted out to them, but they could not have heard him; and then he
thought that he would climb up to the top of the stockade and warn them
off; but he knew that the moment he was seen by the blacks to make any
signal, a pistol-bullet would be sent through his head. Jack was
perfectly ready to run any risk for an adequate object; but after a
moment's reflection he felt perfectly sure that the boats would come on
notwithstanding anything he might do, and that the moment for
sacrificing his life had not yet arrived.
As the boats drew near so did the flurry and excitement among the blacks
increase: the white men looked along their guns and prepared for action;
the little wizened old Spaniard posted himself in a position whence he
could observe all that was going forward. Jack saw that he was watching
him, and he also heard him tell one of the Spaniards, who had before
paid him so much polite attention, to keep an eye on his movements. The
old man, probably, had no great confidence in Jack's honesty of
intentions. Luckily no one found what Jack had been about with the gun,
or it would have fared ill with him. Jack cast many an anxious glance
through the embrasure, to catch the movements of the boats. There were
a good many of them--that was one comfort. His friends were not so
likely to be overpowered as he at first feared. Evidently another ship,
or perhaps more, had joined the _Archer_ and accompanied her boats up
the river. He could not help also turning round to see what the old
Spaniard was doing. There he stood on his perch surveying his motley
crew--the impersonation of an evil spirit--so Jack thought. Yet he
looked quite calm and quiet, with a smile--it was not a pleasant one,
however--playing on his countenance. In a moment afterwards his whole
manner changed; he sprang off the ground and clapped his hands, crying
out loudly, "_Tira! tira, amijos_." "Fire! fire, my friends! and send
all those English to perdition." He was under the belief that the boats
had just come in a direct line with his guns, and that every shot would
tell on them. The Spaniards and blacks were not slow to obey the order.
Off went the guns, and the small-arm men began peppering away till the
whole fort was in a cloud of smoke. Jack delayed firing as long as he
could, that he might be more certain that his shot would fly over the
heads of his friends. He would have waited still longer, had he not
seen a Spaniard near him cocking his pistol and giving a very
significant glance towards him. He had already begun to stoop down to
fire, when a bullet whistled by his head, and he heard the sharp voice
of the old Spaniard, "Take that, young traitor, if you don't choose to
obey orders."
Jack felt that he had had a narrow escape of his life. Looking along
his gun, and seeing that the arc he believed the shot would make would
extend far beyond the boats, he fired. He could not see where his shot
went, for at the same moment the British, though at first not a little
surprised at the warm reception they had encountered, had brought the
guns in the bows of the boats to bear on the fort, and had opened a hot
fire in return.
With loud cheers they advanced; but Jack guessed that they had something
in store which would astonish the blacks much more than the round shot;
nor was he mistaken. Up flew, whizzing into the air, a shower of
rockets, which came down quickly into the middle of the fort, and made
both Spaniards and negroes scamper here and there at a great rate,
knocking each other over, shrieking out oaths and prayers in a variety
of dialects, and trying to hide themselves from their terrific pursuers.
It was as if a number of wriggling serpents had been turned loose among
a crowd of people. The old Spaniard stamped and swore with rage,
calling the people back to their guns, abusing them, and firing his
pistols right and left at them to bring them to order. Jack ran a great
risk of being shot in the _melee_, either by friends or foes. Oh, how
he wished that the former knew the state of affairs inside the fort, and
would make a dash at that moment and get into it! It was high tide, and
the water covered the mudbanks. The favourable moment was however lost,
and by the fierce energy of the little old Spaniard the defenders of the
fort were driven back to their guns. Jack pretended to be very busy
loading his. He had managed to get in a shot during the confusion, and
one of the blacks next rammed in the powder and put another shot in
after it. "All right! now blaze away, my hearty!" he sang out. He had
piled up a good quantity of powder over the touch-hole, so there was an
abundance of smoke, and the negro whom he addressed fully believed that
the gun had gone off.
"Now more powder and shot, old boy," cried Jack; "ram away!"
Jack's gun was not likely to hurt his friends, but had the old Spaniard
seen his tricks, he would very likely have had another bullet fired at
him. Fortunately the old fellow was too much engaged. The whole fort
was full of smoke, and the defenders, having got over their first alarm
at the rockets, were blazing away with all their might. Jack caught
sight of the boats for an instant, separating on either hand so as to
avoid the direct fire from the fort, and then he heard in another minute
that true hearty British cheer, which has so often struck terror into
the hearts of England's enemies. On either flank there came pouring
into the fort a fresh flight of rockets, and almost the next instant
Jack saw the boats' bows run stem on to the mudbank, which almost
surrounded the fort. In vain the seamen endeavoured to shove the boats
over it--they stuck fast. Jack shouted as loud as he could, in hopes
that his voice might be heard, for he caught a glimpse of Alick Murray
in one of the boats and Paddy Adair in another, using every effort to
get up to the stockade. Perhaps they heard him, for he saw them leap
overboard, followed by their men, with the intention clearly of wading
up to the stockade, ignorant of course of the deep ditch between them
and it. Jack felt sure that they would be shot down by the blacks if
they made the attempt. He could restrain himself no longer, but ran
towards them, shouting out, "Back, back! you can't get in that way!"
Whether they heard him or not he could not tell, for a heavy blow on the
head was dealt him by the butt end of a pistol, the owner of which, one
of his Spanish friends, would certainly have shot him had it been
loaded, and he fell to the ground, stunned and helpless.
How long he thus lay he could not tell. It could not have been for any
length of time, for the battle was still raging when he came to his
senses. He instantly crawled to one of the embrasures, and looked out.
The English had suffered severely. One boat lay on the mud, disabled,
and the dead bodies of several men strewed the mudbank, which the
falling tide had left dry. Then he turned his head, for he heard loud
cheers and shouts, and cries and howls, on one side of the fort. A
fresh attack, he suspected, had just been made. It was resisted with
all the desperation of despair by most of the Spaniards and many of the
blacks. The British were forcing their way in. He caught sight of the
heads of the seamen surmounting the stockade, and then he saw that it
was Alick Murray leading them on. The spectacle gave him fresh life.
He jumped on his legs and gave a loud huzzah.
He had better have been silent. The old Spaniard, who had been flying
about in every direction with the most wonderful activity, encouraging
the people, pointing the guns, and showing himself the leading spirit of
the gang, caught sight of him. It had now become evident that the fort
would be taken; there was but one outlet by which the gang could escape;
the ruffians began to give way. Numbers were wounded; many lay dead on
the ground. Several of the fugitives passed him. He was hoping that
the moment of his deliverance was at hand, when he felt his shoulder
grasped by the little old Spaniard, and found himself dragged along by a
power he could not resist. He struggled, but struggled in vain. Small
as the old man was, he was all sinew and muscle; his clutch was like
that of a vice. There was a fierce rush, blacks, Spaniards, and
mulattoes were all mingled together; and good reason they had to run,
for at their heels came fast a body of English seamen, slashing away
with their cutlasses, and firing their pistols. Hemming, Murray, and
Adair were leading them, and Jack recognised some of the officers of his
own ship, the _Ranger_. He now knew how it was the expedition had been
strengthened. He sought to escape from his captor. "If you shout, I'll
shoot you!" said the old man, in English, grinning horribly. He was in
hopes his old schoolfellows would have recognised him. Back he was
hurried. Still he felt sure that his friends would overtake him. The
retreating villains had got close to the barracoon, and not far from the
last entrance to the fort. The seamen pressed on. There was still some
space between the parties, when the old man fired his pistol into a cask
sunk into the ground; a thick smoke came out of it. Back, back the
pirates pushed. In an instant more a dense mass rose before them of
earth, and stone, and timbers, horribly mingled with the arms and legs
and bodies of human beings;--a mine had been sprung. Jack was in an
agony of fear for the fate of his friends. He could see nothing of
them. He observed only that the mine had taken effect under one end of
the barracoon. The terrible shrieks and cries of its wretched inmates
rang in his ears. A large number of them had been liberated, and with
loud yells were following in the rear of the slave-dealers, for whom
they served as an effective shield against the shot of the seamen. The
slaves had been told that the English would kill them, so they ran away
as soon as they were let out of the barracoon, as fast as the rest. The
piratical crew, for such they really were, took their way up the hill,
towards the king's residence, followed closely by the slaves and all the
rabble who had escaped out of the fort. Jack expected that his friends
would have pursued, and should he escape the pistol of the old gentleman
who had him by the arm, he hoped before long to be rescued. They had
not, however, got far up the hill when he saw flames burst forth from
the barracoon, in which he knew, judging from those following, that a
number of poor wretches had been left in chains, and he truly guessed
that his countrymen were stopping to try and rescue them. The flames
burst fiercely, and blazed up high, as they caught the dry inflammable
timber of which the building was composed. Nothing could arrest their
progress. The gallant seamen, he knew, would be dashing in among them
in spite of the hot smoke, and doing their best to rescue the
unfortunate wretches, but he feared that few would be saved. Even where
he was he could hear their piteous shrieks, as the flames caught hold of
them, chained as they were and unable to escape. As was too likely the
pirates had set fire to the barracoon on purpose to delay the English;
this plan succeeded perfectly. Often the same sort of thing has been
done at sea, and when a slaver has been hard-pressed, blacks have been
thrown overboard by the crew, to induce the English cruiser to stop and
pick them up, and thus enable them to escape. Jack was dragged away up
the hill, through the gateway of the town, and into the king's palace.
That worthy was seated where Jack had first seen him, and employed much
in the same way--smoking a pipe.
"Why have you brought him?" inquired his sable majesty of the little old
Spaniard, whom Jack heard addressed as Don Diogo.
"He will serve as a hostage--they have got some of our people," was the
answer.
"But will they give us back any of the slaves?" asked the king.
"Not one--whatever we may threaten," replied the Don, grinding his
teeth. "They will not have got many, that is one comfort. A
considerable number came with us, and most of those we were unable to
set loose have been burnt. Our enemies have not gained much by their
victory in any way, for we killed a good many of them, and destroyed
some of their boats. We have had a desperate fight of it, though."
"It may be as well, then, not to kill the youngster, though it might be
a satisfaction to you," said the king, looking at the Don.
"Not for the present," said Don Diogo. "We will keep him for a short
time, and see how high his friends value him. If they refuse to give
enough in exchange for him, as he can be of no use here, we can then
shoot him!"
Jack, of course, could not understand all this conversation; but he made
out enough to comprehend its tenor, which was certainly not of a
character to enliven him. After a little time he found himself hauled
out of the king's presence and thrust into a small hut by himself. A
black, with a brace of pistols in his belt, and a musket which looked as
if it would go off, was placed sentry over him. He either would not, or
probably could not, reply to any of the questions Jack put to him,
whenever he thrust his head in at the door, apparently to ascertain that
his prisoner was all safe.
Thus passed the day. Towards the evening Jack began to be very hungry
and very sick, and to wonder whether he was to be starved to death. He
pointed to his mouth, and made every sign he could think of to show that
he was hungry, but the sentry appeared to take no notice of him. At
last, however, another man opened the door and placed a bowl of farina
before him. It was not very dainty fare, but he was too sharp set to be
particular, and so set to on it at once and gobbled away till he had
finished it. He was wondering whether he should have to sleep on the
bare ground, when the same man appeared with a bundle of Indian corn and
other leaves, and threw them down in the corner, making a sign that they
were to serve him as his bed. "Thank you, old fellow, I might go
farther and fare worse." His spirits rose somewhat, for he judged
rightly that his captors would not take so much trouble about him had
they intended to murder him. He did not forget how mercifully his life
had been preserved during the day, and he offered up his thanks on high
before he threw himself on his bed of leaves to go to sleep.
He slept as soundly as a top all night, and when he awoke he could
scarcely remember what had occurred during the previous day. Before
long his former attendant appeared and placed another bowl of farina
before him. "If they were cannibals, I might have some suspicions of
their intentions," he said to himself; "they don't propose to eat me;
but I know that I shall grow enormously fat if I go on long ramming down
such stuff as this." However, as he was very hungry, he did swallow the
whole of it. Hours passed away; no one else came near him. He fully
expected to find the town attacked by the English, and waited
impatiently to hear the sounds of the commencement of the strife; but,
except that occasionally he heard tom-toms beating at a distance, and a
few shots fired, everything in the town was quiet. It was sometime in
the afternoon when two armed blacks appeared, and marched Jack out of
his prison up to the king's palace. The king scarcely took any notice
of him as he entered the reception-room. Soon after Don Diogo appeared.
"Will they give up the slaves?" asked the king.
"Not a bit of it," answered Don Diogo. "They say that if we kill that
lad, then they will kill six times as many people of ours."
"That can't be helped," observed the king. "The people were born to be
killed."
"Certainly," answered Don Diogo; "but there are some Spaniards among
them, and I require their services."
"But is it not possible that they may come and burn my town? I have no
wish for that to happen, even for your sake, my friend," said the king.
"Shoot the midshipman if they do," answered Don Diogo, turning a not
very pleasant glance at Jack. "At present, however, they do not seem
disposed to attack us. We have given them enough to attend to for the
present. We killed a good number, and the boats have gone back with the
wounded and prisoners."
"Then the young jackanapes of an officer may be shut up in prison
again," said the king.
Scarcely had the order been given when a Spaniard rushed with fierce
gestures into the room. "Those English have killed some of our friends,
and we are resolved to have our revenge," he exclaimed, looking savagely
at Jack, and handling his long knife.
"Don't kill him yet, though," said Don Diogo, with his usual coolness;
"it will be time enough when he is of no further use. Take him away
now."
These were not exactly the words Jack heard used, but he made out that
such was their tenor.
Poor Jack! He was thrust rudely back into his dark, dirty hut, and the
only food he received was a bowl of the ill-dressed farina, of which he
was getting heartily tired. His spirits began to fall lower than they
had ever before done. He saw no hope of escape; for he was certain that
should the English threaten to attack the town, that instant he would
put be to death, even should he escape the long knives of some of the
Spaniards who had evidently a hankering for his blood. At last he fell
asleep. Midshipmen have a knack of sleeping under the most adverse
circumstances. His powers in that way were very considerable. It was
daylight when he awoke; but there were no sounds to indicate that the
negro population was astir. He could not help fancying that some
attempt would be made by Captain Lascelles and Captain Grant to rescue
him; but the day passed on, and no one except the man who brought him
his insipid farina came near him. If he had had any mode in which to
employ himself, he could, he thought, have the better borne his
imprisonment and the dreadful state of suspense in which he was placed.
All he could do was to walk about or sit on his bed of leaves with his
head resting on his knees. Now and then, as the evening approached and
his weariness increased, he jumped up and thought that he would force
his way out and make a run for it: but then the feeling that he would
most certainly be killed if he made the attempt, besides recollecting
not knowing where he should run to, induced him to sit down again and
chew the cud of impatience. Night came again. He was more melancholy
than ever. He thought that he was deserted, or that probably his
friends fancied he was killed, and would not trouble themselves further
about him. He had no inclination to sleep even after it grew dark. He
listened to the various noises in the village, or rather city it should
be called. They amused him somewhat--the odd tones of the negroes'
voices, the shouts, the laughter, the cries of babies, the barking of
curs, the beating of tom-toms. At last, however, even they ceased, and
he dozed away till he forgot where he was and everything that had
happened. How long he had slept he could not tell; or rather, had he
been asked he would have asserted that he had not been asleep at all,
when he opened his eyes and saw by the light of the moon, which shone
through a hole in the roof, the round face of a black boy looking down
upon him with a friendly and compassionate expression.