THE BLACK TRANSPORT.
"You don't mean to say it's all over!" exclaimed Guert, staring at the
place from which the pirate schooner had vanished. "Seems to me it
doesn't take long to fight a battle at sea."
"Yes, it does," said one of the older sailors, "if there's chasin' and
manoeuvrin' and long range firin'. I've been in some that took all day
and the next day, too. But we were too heavy guns for that feller."
"It's awful!" remarked Vine Avery, very thoughtfully. "I was trying to
make out if we could have saved any more of 'em."
"No," said the captain, "I don't see how we could, considerin' where we
were and the time it took us to come about. They grappled each other
in the water, too."
"The fact is, boys," said Sam Prentice, "the savin' o' those fellers
wouldn't ha' been of any use, anyhow. Spanish law isn't as slow and
careful as ours is. It wouldn't ha' called for any trial by a court,
you know. The nearest army or navy commander of any consequence would
ha' taken hold of 'em. They'd all ha' been shot within a day after he
seized 'em."
"Leastwise," said Vine, "'twasn't any fault of ours. I'm glad Guert
made out to haul in one of 'em."
Guert had turned somewhat quickly away, while they were speaking, for
his rescued man had been allowed to come and speak with him.
"Hullo!" said the captain. "They are talkin' Dutch. That's it!
Guert's a New Yorker. He learned it at home."
"What sort is he, Guert?" asked the mate.
"He isn't any pirate, at all," eagerly responded Guert. "He's a
Hollander that was on a ship they took. One of 'em knew him and saved
him, and they 'pressed him in. He had to make believe he was one of
'em, but he never was."
"Pretty good story," said Captain Avery. "Maybe it's true. There's
enough of 'em killed. We'll take care of him."
"I wish you would," said Guert. "Seems to me the right man got away."
"Not all of 'em," said the man himself in English that had very little
foreign accent. "There were three more a good deal like me. Some o'
the black men weren't reg'lar pirates. All the rest of 'em, though,
belonged to the sharks. It was one o' the worst crews that ever
floated. My name's Groot. I'm from Amsterdam, but I was brought up
mostly in Liverpool. Sailed on British craft and French, too. I'm a
true man, Captain Avery!"
The captain was willing to believe it, if he could, and he questioned
him closely, all the crew of the _Noank_ agreeing among themselves that
Groot was their prize, anyhow, and ought not to be turned over to any
Spanish authority.
All the while, the rescued _Santa Teresa_ was drifting nearer, her
bulwarks lined with eager people of all sorts, who were gazing
gratefully at what seemed to them the very beautiful American schooner.
She had arrived just in time to save them, and they had never before
seen a ship that they were so pleased with. Loud hails were exchanged,
and then followed, from the Spanish ship, a perfect storm of thanks.
"Guert," said Captain Avery, "I'm goin' aboard of her. You may come
along. You may find some more Dutchmen. I can talk Spanish and
French. I want to know just what shape they're in."
A boat was already lowered, and in a few minutes they were on the deck
of the _Santa Teresa_.
"Women and children!" was Guert's first thought and exclamation. "To
think of all of them being murdered! I don't feel half so sorry as I
did about the pirates. I wish mother could see just what we've been
saving from 'em. I guess it's perfectly right to shoot straight,
sometimes. Glad I didn't miss once!"
All his shudders of regret and of horror over the work of the sharks
passed away from him as those passengers crowded around him. There
were four more _Noank_ sailors, but the Spanish crew had captured them.
The two captains were talking business, therefore Guert was taken in
hand by the women and young people. One short, fat senora, who came at
him first, had long, white hair tumbling down over her shoulders. She
hugged him and kissed him, and cried and laughed, and she
pointed--saying a great deal in Spanish--at a woman who was throwing
her arms around a pretty pair of children. It was easy for Guert to
understand that the old woman was thanking God and the Americans for
the lives of her daughter and her grandchildren.
Other women did not altogether follow her example, for Guert showed a
little bashfulness, there were so many of them; but he shook hands
quite freely with the boys and girls. The Spanish youngsters showed
him their weapons, too, trying to tell him how ready they had been to
fight the buccaneers.
"It isn't a long run from this to Porto Rico," he heard Captain Avery
say. "We'll see you safe in. We didn't lose a man."
"We lost five," replied the Spanish commander. "The sharks would have
had all of us, instead of all of them, but for you. God bless you! We
will patch up and spread all the canvas we can."
At that moment a friendly hand was laid upon Guert's arm, drawing him
away from his women friends. Senor Alvarez held him hard for a breath
or two, as if he were trying to speak and had lost his voice.
"My boy," he then exclaimed, "you came in time! This is my wife,
Senora Laura Alvarez. These are my boy and girl. This is my wife's
mother, Senora Paez. They told me that you fired that blessed long
gun, yourself."
"Up-na-tan, the Indian chief, and I fired it," said Guert. "I'm a
beginner."
"I understand," said the Spaniard. "You are a young cadet studying
navigation. You must come home with me and study a Porto Rico
plantation house. You must be my guest. We will treat you like a
king."
"I shall be ever so glad, if Captain Avery'll let me," answered Guert.
"He says we're likely to be in port quite a while. I'll ask him."
Captain Avery was near enough to hear, and he replied for himself.
"It's all right, Guert," he said. "You may go. I want you to, even if
we sail and come back while you're ashore. You see, my boy, you know a
little Spanish now. Here's a chance for you to get ahead so you can
begin to speak and read it. Every American sea-captain ought to know
Spanish."
"Yes, sir, I'd like it first-rate," said Guert; "but I wouldn't like to
have the _Noank_ sail without me on board."
"We'll see 'bout that," replied the captain. "You'll obey orders,
anyhow."
"I guess I'll have to," almost grumbled Guert, as he was compelled to
get away from his friends and hasten back in the boat to the schooner;
"but I didn't come to loaf on shore. I'd rather be a gunner."
There was a great deal of talk and excitement upon both vessels, but
things were rapidly getting back into order. The sails were spread,
and both were quickly in motion. The wind was fair, and night was
coming on. As for the _Noank_, in particular, all that she had done
for either pirates or Spaniards could not diminish the necessity she
was under for keeping up a sharp lookout for anything sailing under the
British flag. That banner might be fluttering nearer at any hour, and
it might be upon a "sugar-boat," or it might be streaming out from the
dangerous rigging of a cruiser.
Once the schooner was under way, Guert found himself more at liberty
than usual, for all kinds of his sea schooling were given a vacation.
His head was even more full than ordinary, however, and he had an
especial reason for getting away with Sam Prentice during their next
watch on deck. He had several times heard the mate talk about pirates.
He had also heard something about them from Up-na-tan and Coco and the
crew. Until now, however, all that he had heard at any time had been
listened to as if it were unreal. He had never read a novel, and so he
did not know that all of it had seemed to him a kind of pretty,
interesting story of fiction, and not anything more. It was very
different, now that he had seen a black flag and sent a heavy shot into
the hull under it, and had watched while that hull went down.
"About the buccaneers, eh?" said Sam, as they leaned over the
quarter-rail and looked out into the darkness. "Well! I s'pose there
are books about 'em. You can learn a good deal from books, but I don't
know any that'll tell you all there is 'bout those islands. There's
too many of 'em, hundreds, mebbe, with outlyin' reefs and ledges. Then
there are any number o' bays and inlets and lagoons. That's why it's
so hard to follow up and ketch light draft pirate vessels. They can
hide in a thousand out o' the way places until they git ready to run
out and make a strike. One o' their biggest helps is the caves on some
o' the islands. Safest kind o' places for men to hide plunder in, too.
Some of 'em open right down at the water line, and some of 'em have
deep water for quite a way in from the mouth. You can row a boat right
on in at high tide, or even at low water, I've heard tell. Big
cruisers ain't of any use 'mong the shoals and ledges and lagoons.
Somehow the governments have been too busy 'bout other matters to build
and arm the right pattern o' gunboats. That there picaroon that we
sunk to-day was as large a craft as I ever heard o' their usin'.
Oftener, they go out in canoes and rowboats and sailboats, and make
surprises in light winds or calms, or in the night. All the shore
people are afraid to tell on 'em, and they're good friends with the
Caribs and the slaves. Of course, they've got to be all rooted out,
some day, but it's goin' to be a tough job, I tell ye."
Many more things he had to tell, as Guert questioned him. Before he
got through, it almost seemed as if all the nations of the world had
once been pirates, of one kind or another, each nation thinking it
right to capture ships of other nations on sight, if opportunity made
it safe to do so.
"I tell you what," said Guert, at last, "I want to read books! I never
had a chance at 'em. Rachel Tarns lent me a few, long ago, when we
were at home in New York, before the British came. The war drove us
out, you know, and we can't guess when we're to get back. I want to
read."
"Now!" exclaimed the mate, "I've thought of one thing. You'll be at
the Velasquez plantation. Mebbe for some time. They'll have heaps o'
books. It'll help you learn Spanish if you'll try and read anything
you find there. Learn all you can, wherever you happen to be."
"I just will!" said Guert.
"Now," said Prentice, "I'm goin' below. Some time to-morrer, if the
wind holds good, we'll be in Porto Rico. Then you'll see something
new."
Guert also had to go below and turn in, but it was not easy to sleep
with his head so full, even after so very fatiguing a day. He was
lying awake, therefore, long afterward, when he was startled by sounds
on deck.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Something's happened! What if they should
have sighted a British man-o'-war? If there's going to be any more
fighting, I want to be at my gun!"
He was getting to be a genuine sailor, therefore, and the cannon he was
stationed with had become a sort of pet and much as if it were his own
property.
Not much careful dressing was called for after he sprung out of his
bunk, and then he was up on deck without waiting for orders.
Not a great deal of noise had been made, after all, and most of the
weary crew were still keeping their watch below, as soundly asleep as
ever. Two pairs of ears, however, had been as keen as Guert's, and
here were Coco and Up-na-tan, already at the pivot-gun, prepared for
anything that might turn up. The moon was shining brightly and the
wind was fair. The sparkling, foaming sea looked beautiful, and all
was peace except upon the deck of the privateer. Away to leeward Guert
could dimly see a sail that he believed to be the _Santa Teresa_, and
at that moment a red ball rocket went up from her deck and burst, to
inform her American friends that she was doing well.
"She's all right, then," Guert heard Captain Avery say to the man at
the wheel. "I wish I knew what this feller is to wind'ard. Up-na-tan,
be ready, there, with that gun. It looks to me like a brig o' some
sort. It might happen to be one o' these 'ere British ten-gun brigs.
I don't know, yet, whether or not one o' them 'd prove too much for us,
if we got in the first broadside."
"Well, Captain," said the steersman, "we can't very well get out of her
way, jest now. She has managed to come up to wind'ard of us, and she
can hold on, best we can do. It's our bad luck!"
"Maybe it's her's," said the captain, grimly. "I won't call up the men
for a bit. If there's a hard fight a-comin', a rest won't hurt 'em.
It may be a Spanish coast-guard or a Frenchman. Everything down this
way isn't British. Up-na-tan, take this night-glass and see what you
can make of her."
The Manhattan came at once for the telescope, but a sudden change had
come over the manners of Coco. It began with a curious kind of
sniffing, sniffing, like a pointer dog in the neighborhood of game.
Then he left his precious gun and glided to the rail, shaking his head
and chattering harsh words in a tongue which nobody who heard could
recognize.
Guert went over to join him, and his first glance at the face of the
old African astonished him. It was absolutely convulsed with fury.
The black man's hands were clenched, his teeth were grinding, and his
eyes seemed to flash fire.
"What's the matter?" asked Guert. "Can you see anything out there?"
An angry screech, and then a guttural, wrathful war-cry, sprung from
the lips of Coco.
At that moment Up-na-tan had been looking at the strange sail through
the telescope.
"Brig," he had said. "All sail set. Big as the _Santa Teresa_. No
cruiser. No Englishman ever set a foresail like that."
His implied compliment to the neatness of British seamanship was cut
short by the yell of Coco, and he instantly lowered his glass.
"Whoo-oop!" he responded. "'Peak out! What Coco find?"
"Slaver!" screeched the African. "Coco smell him! Where Up-na-tan
lose he nose?"
"Slaver?" exclaimed Captain Avery. "Bless my soul! We've nothing to
do with men-stealers. I don't want any such prize as that, even if
it's an Englishman. I wouldn't take a slave cargo into port."
"Nor I, either," said the steersman. "We're not in that trade."
Nearer and nearer, now, the strange craft was drawing, from the
opposite tack. The men below had heard the yell of Coco and the
Manhattan's warwhoop, and were tumbling up on deck in search of
information. Their comments were various as they heard the remarkable
announcement.
"Not a doubt of it, Lyme," said Sam Prentice to the captain, after a
whiff of the wind from the stranger. "They're slave thieves. I always
heard tell that a slave-ship could smell worse'n anything else. I say
we ought not to try to do anything with her. Let her go!"
"Of course we will," said the captain; "but we'll speak her. Here she
comes."
In a few minutes more the two ships were within hailing distance.
"What brig's that?" asked Avery.
"Slaver _Yara_, Captain Liscomb. Congo River to Cuba," came back with
all cheerfulness. "What schooner's that?"
"American privateer, _Noank_, Captain Avery. We don't want you. How
many on board?"
"We've only lost about a third of 'em on the passage," came jauntily
back from the _Yara_. "We shall land over two hundred good ones.
First-rate luck! Last trip we lost more'n half by getting stuck in a
calm. How's your luck? Are you taking anything worth while?"
It was precisely as if a prosperous merchant, engaged in what he
considered an honorable, legitimate business, were exchanging trade
politeness with another merchant in a somewhat similar line.
"We're not long out," replied Captain Avery. "We've done fairly well,
though. We sunk a West India picaroon to-day."
"Did you? That's a good thing to do. Glad you did," said the slaver,
heartily. "Those chaps annoy even us African traders. They stopped me
twice last year, and took away dozens of my best pieces, men and women.
The rascals said they were collecting their import duties. Sink 'em
all!"
He was so near, by this time, that the bright moonlight gave them a
pretty good view of him. He did not seem to be by any means a
bad-looking fellow, and it was only too evident that he was either an
American or Englishman of good education. He asked for the latest news
politely, and then he declared concerning the existing difficulties
between King George Third and his American colonies:--
"You chaps have more interest in that affair than I have. If you're
not all shot or hung, you'll make fortunes out of it, if it goes on
long enough. Privateering sometimes pays better than slaving. All you
need be afraid of, except the king's cruisers, is too sudden an end of
the war. That would ruin all your business at once. The war hasn't
hurt us, to speak of. Our market is as good as ever it was; we can
sell all we can bring over."
The _Noank_ was sweeping on and there could be no more exchange of news
or opinions with Captain Liscomb.
He was evidently a man without the prejudices of other men. He could
see only the money side of the war for American independence, and he
took it for granted that a privateersman would look at it in precisely
that way. At least one of the crew of the _Noank_ was not in agreement
with him, for Coco was as furious as ever.
"Ole Coco stuck in slaver hold, once," he snarled tigerishly. "No
water. Iron on hand, on foot. Hot like oven. Most of 'em die. Some
go bline. Some get kill. Not many left. Sell Coco in Cuba. Whip
him. Burn him. Make him work hard. Ole brack man got away, though.
Big fire 'bout that time. Planter lose he house. Kidd men better'n
slaver men. All the same, anyhow."
"Isn't that awful!" was all that Guert could think or say.
"Boy fool!" growled Coco. "Captain Avery all wrong. He let 'em go.
Better take 'em."
"What could he do with all those slaves if he took 'em?" asked Guert.
"What he do with 'em?" replied Coco, with some surprise. "Drown
slaver, not brack fellers. Sell 'em all. Make pile o' money."
"He wouldn't do that," said Guert.
"Then go ashore in Cuba," persisted the old Ashantee. "Buy sugar
plantation. Have he slaves all for nothing. That's what Coco think.
He do it, quick. All African chief have plenty slave. Make 'em work,
kill 'em, do what he please."
The fierce anger of the grim old African, therefore, had been aroused
by a memory of his own sufferings and not by any sentimental notions
concerning human rights. He saw no evil whatever in the mere owning of
slaves. Very much like him in that respect, to tell the truth, were
most of his Yankee friends. Slave-holding had not yet been abolished
in the northern American colonies any more than in the southern. The
great movement for the abolition of all property in human beings came a
long time afterward. Nevertheless, even then, a strong odium was
beginning to attach to the business of catching black men for the
market, and the cause of this feeling was mainly the cruel and wasteful
manner in which the business was carried on. The gathering of slaves
in Africa for export purposes was understood to be exceedingly
murderous, and too many of the captives died on shipboard from
barbarous ill-treatment.
Away had swung the badly smelling _Yara_ upon her intended course. Her
polite captain had bowed as she did so, his last farewell expressing
his wish that his privateer acquaintances might have good luck and make
money. If he were indeed an Englishman, he had no narrow, national
feeling concerning business matters.
"Sam Prentice!" exclaimed Captain Avery. "I was glad to be rid of 'em.
They're only another kind of pirate, anyhow. I believe that feller'd
send up the black flag any day, if it was safe,--and if he could make
money by it."
"Lyme," replied his mate, "don't you know that slave catchers do fly
the skull and bones every now and then, in the far seas? They're none
too good to scuttle a ship and make her crew walk the plank."
"I've heard so," said the captain, "but we hadn't any duty to do by
'em, jest now. What we want to do is to sight a British flag on a
craft that doesn't carry too many guns for us. Port your helm, there!"