all the while, although close in to the land, and apparently proceeding
on a coasting-voyage, and having nothing to do with the other vessel;
and then, the course of the _Muscadine_ was altered and she bore up for
the Cyclades.
"I have no further dread of meeting any of your floating bull dogs,"
said the pirate chief affably, as if in explanation of his motives.
"And none of the French cruisers are up here now; they are all too busy
in Tunisian waters. So, I may as well shift your cargo, captain, at the
back of one of the little islands we are coming to, where we can lie by
unseen without any interference."
During the whole of that day, the ship was steered amongst a parcel of
shoals, which made poor Captain Harding tremble for her safety, albeit
she was taken out of his control; and, towards nightfall, she was
brought to anchor in sixteen fathoms, under the lea of a rocky cliff
that projected up into a peak on one of the tiny islets by which they
were encircled. Here, the felucca having followed them, the pick of her
cargo was removed to the smaller craft--a few bales of silk, some
tobacco, and a good portion of wine; the cases of dried fruit being left
untouched, as taking them to any of the Greek ports with the idea of
finding a market for their contents, as the corsair well knew, would
have been like carrying coals to Newcastle.
Then, the Englishmen, who had been well treated all the day in the
matter of food and drink--some books even were brought up by the orders
of the leader from the cabin, for them to read, his courtesy and
attention were so great--were removed to the felucca, being followed by
the Greek sailors; Captain Harding and the others subsequently
witnessing the melancholy sight of the ill-fated _Muscadine_ sinking at
her anchors, for she had been scuttled in several places after the
selected goods had been transferred to the pirate's own vessel, which
remained on the spot till the other disappeared beneath the waves.
"I should have liked to have burnt her, as I said I would do," observed
the corsair, as the _Muscadine_ went down bows foremost, "all standing,"
with a graceful plunge; "but I was afraid of attracting notice.
However, she is safe now at the bottom, at all events; and sunken ships,
like dead men, tell no tales!"
Captain Harding made no reply.
His heart was too full at seeing his ship, which he regarded almost like
a living thing, so recklessly destroyed before his eyes; it was the ship
which he had first gone to sea in as a boy, and which it had been the
ambition of his life to command. It was too much, and turning his head
away as the tips of her spars sank from view, he wiped away a tear from
his eye with the back of his horny hand.
Nothing that the pirates had done hitherto affected him like this.
STORY TWO, CHAPTER EIGHT.
AMONGST THE BRIGANDS.
As soon as the _Muscadine_ had succumbed to her ill fate so tragically,
the felucca made sail at once from the place, steering north, as well as
Captain Harding could make out; for neither he nor the boys were allowed
to look at the compass, and they none of them spoke to Tompkins since
his betrayal of the captain's trust, although he could probably have
told them, for he "appeared to be hail fellow well met" with his
captors, as Charley said.
The night passed, and again another day and night, without anything
noteworthy happening, the swift craft sailing at racehorse speed, and
always in the same direction, to the best of their belief, as if towards
some fixed destination; but the corsair did not enlighten them, and,
indeed, did not address them during the interval.
Towards the evening of the second day on which they were on board her,
the felucca drew near land, from which she held off and on until the
shades of night covered her movements, when she approached close to the
shore, and a boat was lowered over her side.
The pirate chief then, for the first time since the _Muscadine_
disappeared under the waters of the Aegean Sea, addressed Captain
Harding and his companions, who had found the time of their captivity
hang wearily on their hands, although they were virtually free to walk
about on board their prison-house, with the exception of speaking to any
of the crew or looking at the compass, both of which were interdicted,
with significant threats whenever they tried to evade the prohibition.
"Now, captain," said the corsair, with an oily smile, which sat worse
upon his countenance than a frown, "I will thank you to sign this
order," producing the skipper's bank-draft, and a pen and ink all ready
for the purpose. "Just sign it, and I will put you and your brother
Englishmen ashore at once."
"Where are we?" asked the captain.
"On the coast of Greece," was the answer, "not far from Salonica, where
I am going with the felucca to dispose of my cargo," with a naive
candour which made Charley Onslow laugh outright.
"His cargo, indeed," he whispered to Tom. "You have often talked of my
Irish impudence, but, bedad, that beats Banagher."
"Be quiet," replied Tom; "you'll only get us into a row."
But the leader of the pirates took no heed of the interruption; he was
too busy about the money order.
"Come, sign," he repeated to the captain.
"And suppose I don't?" said he.
"Then you and your companions will be imprisoned in the mountains until
you do, up to a certain period--until I have time to complete my
business at Salonica, that is--and if, on my return from thence, you
still continue obdurate, why, then all of you had better say your
prayers--" completing his sentence with an emphatic gesture which could
not be misunderstood.
The captain was obstinate. He thought that now they were near a
well-known port, and in comparatively civilised regions, the pirate
chief would not dare to carry out his threat, and after a time, if he
only held out, would be satisfied with the share of booty he had already
secured, particularly, as from some remarks which he casually let fall
when the cargo was being shifted, it had turned out to be more valuable
than he had anticipated.
Once he had made up his mind, nothing would make the captain budge an
inch from the position he had taken up. He could be as obstinate as a
mule when he liked.
"I refuse to sign the draft, and you may whistle for the money," he said
doggedly.
"You better had," urged the other. "I only advise you for your own
good. Those brigand friends of mine in the mountains, who will be your
jailers, are a rough lot, and not to be trifled with."
"I will see you hanged first!" shouted out the captain, out of all
patience, and he then closed his lips together tightly to show that he
did not intend saying another word.
"Absit omen," quoted the corsair; "hanging is a ticklish subject.
Polydori," turning to one of the Greeks, "take charge of these
Englishmen, with ten others of your best men. Your lives will answer
for theirs until you give them into Mocatto's keeping. You know the
rendezvous, where to meet him and his band. Captain, and young
gentlemen, adieu! May you be of a more practical mind when I see you
again, which will not be long."
And, with these words, the corsair took leave of the captives, who,
after being gagged again, and having their hands all tied behind them--
including Tompkins this time, much to the boys' satisfaction--were put
into the boat that lay alongside, and rowed ashore, under a strong
guard, with the Greek Polydori at their head.
It was a change of scene from their cooped-up quarters on board the
felucca; but after they had had a toilsome march, uphill all the way,
through mountainous defiles and along the roughest of paths, they wished
themselves back again in their floating prison.
Arrived at a cross-turning surrounded by a thicket of stunted shrubs,
the leader of the guard that accompanied them cried a halt, uttering a
shrill and prolonged whistle, which was presently repeated from the
hills above.
An approaching footstep was then heard, and a challenge, to which
Polydori replied with some password, after which there was a long
colloquy between him and the stranger.
They were then ordered to resume their march, although they had been
walking two hours since they had quitted the shore, Polydori and the
stranger leading the column, with the prisoners in the centre and the
other guards in the front and rear. In this manner they proceeded until
the unfortunate captives were ready to drop with fatigue, while their
board ship shoes were worn into shreds by the stones and prickles of the
path they had traversed, and their feet all bleeding and torn.
"I can't go a step farther!" exclaimed Tom, dropping in his footsteps.
"Good-bye all."
But the guards prodded him with their knives, and made him rise again.
So he tottered along, until the column, marching in a sort of military
order, and passing numerous sentinels, who challenged the leaders, and
stopped them till they gave the countersign, entered suddenly on a large
encampment of men, squatting on the ground amidst a circle of fires.
There were no tents nor waggons to bear out the illusion, but otherwise
the scene resembled a bivouac of some expeditionary force.
The brigands, as the English readily guessed these gentry to be, were
some forty or more in number, and were principally Greeks and Albanians,
clad in their picturesque dress--a short sleeveless jacket, coarse
gaiters and shoes, a kilt of some rough texture, and a fez; while across
their chests they carried a cartridge belt, and around their waist a
sash, in which were stuck pistols and knives, not forgetting the long
yataghan, that hung to their sides in the same fashion as they had
noticed with the crew of the pirate felucca.
Amongst this band of miscreants, who thought less of murder than they
did of killing a fowl, the survivors of the _Muscadine_ suffered a
species of moral torture for more than a week, being moved from place to
place meanwhile, generally by night, as the brigands' encampment was
shifted to evade the pursuit of the Turkish troops, who were wonderfully
active in hunting the mountain gentry about--after Mr Suter's and
Colonel Synge's release!
During this time, they heard nothing of the pirate chief, although the
leader of the brigands--a gigantic Albanian named Mocatto--was
continually engaged in pleasantly putting before Captain Harding what he
and his countrymen might expect should the bank-draft remain unsigned
after the corsair's return--of course acting under that worthy's
instructions; pointing the moral of his remarks by practising the most
unheard-of cruelties on such captives as the brigands brought in day by
day, who were unable or unwilling to send to their friends to ransom
them.
At last, one day, after witnessing the horrible exhibition of a poor
Turk having his clothing saturated with paraffine oil, and then set fire
to, the captain, urged more by considerations for the safety of Tom and
Charley and his men, than for his own, gave in, and told Mocatto that he
would sign the draft.
"That is good," said the brigand. "Demetri comes to-night, and you can
sign it in the presence of the chief. If you do not, you know the
consequences."
However, as it turned out, Captain Harding was fortunately able to keep
his word to the corsair, when he said "he would see him hanged first"
before he should attach his name to the money order.
That very same afternoon, a whole battalion of Turkish troops, sent out
from Salonica, surrounded one of the mountains in which the brigands'
stronghold was situated; and after desperate fighting, in which many men
were killed on either side, compelled the surrender of Mocatto's band.
Demetri, the pirate chief, who was on his way, like Shylock, for his
bond or pound of flesh from the captain, got captured amongst other
prisoners, and was subsequently hanged along with them on the mountain
side, as a warning to all dishonest folk.
Tom and Charley, and the captain, escaped scot free,--through a miracle
almost, the brigands being attacked so suddenly that they were unable to
murder their captives, as they invariably do when assailed by the
troops--and so did the sailors along with them; all but Tompkins, who,
as if in punishment for his treachery and cowardice, got shot by a
passing bullet.
"It is a long lane that has no turning," as the proverb runs; and, to
paraphrase it, it must be a long story which has no ending: so there
must be an end to this.
The _Muscadine_ could not be raised again. But Captain Harding got
another ship, of which Tom Aldridge was appointed second officer, and
Charley Onslow third, on probation; and the three, captain and
youngsters, have had a voyage or two already. But they have not
forgotten, nor are they likely to forget, their memorable adventures in
their passage from Beyrout, nor Mohammed's old friend, "The Corsair of
Chios."
STORY THREE, CHAPTER ONE.
DAVID AND JONATHAN; OR, LOST AT SEA.
CAUGHT IN A SQUALL.
"Dave!"
"Hullo!"
"What's that big black thing out there, tumbling about in the sea
astern; is it a whale?"
"A whale, your grandmother!" sang out Davy Armstrong with a laugh, as he
sprang on the taffrail, and holding on to the shrouds with one hand
while he shaded his eyes with the other, peered about anxiously in the
wake of the vessel in search of the object to which his attention had
been drawn by his companion, a dark-haired lad who stood on the deck
near him, and whose thin face and slender figure betrayed the delicate
constitution of one brought up amidst the smoke and din of cities and
busy haunts of men. David, on the contrary, was tall and well-built for
his age, about sixteen, with blue eyes and curly brown hair, and the
ruddy glow of health on his cheek; and being a middy of some two years'
standing on board the _Sea Rover_, and full of fun and "larkishness," to
coin a term, assumed a slightly protective air towards Johnny Liston,
the son of one of the cabin passengers, between whom and himself one of
those stanch friendships common to boyhood had sprung up during the
voyage to Australia. "A whale, your grandmother, Jonathan!" repeated
Davy Armstrong in a bantering tone, with all--as his companion thought
he could detect--the conscious superiority of a sucking sailor over a
raw landsman, in his voice. "Why, you'll be seeing the sea serpent soon
if you look smart. Where is this wonderful thing you've discovered,
Jonathan, my son? I'm blest if I can see it."
It need hardly be mentioned that, close friends as they had become in a
short time, Johnny Liston rather resented David's patronage and implied
superiority, and he hated his calling him "Jonathan," or addressing him
as "my son," just as if he were as old as his father, instead of being
just of an age, as he would indignantly remonstrate, which knowing,
David mischievously made a point of so speaking to him on purpose to
tease him, although in good part all the same.
"And you call yourself a sailor!" said Johnny Liston mockingly. "Why,
there it is, as plain as a pikestaff, on the lift of that wave to the
right there! Where are your eyes, stupid?"
"Why don't you say on the port quarter, you lubber?" answered David
good-humouredly; "then a fellow would know what you meant! Oh, I see.
I think it's a ship's boat floating bottom upwards; but I'll call the
skipper's attention to it, and he'll soon tell us what it is. Johnny,
my boy, you've got good eyesight, and deserve a leather medal for seeing
that before I did, so I'll let you have the credit of it."
"Thanks, Dave," said the other ironically. "I'm glad you can allow for
once in a way that you are not infallible, and that somebody else can
see as well as yourself."
David meanwhile had crossed over the deck, to where the captain was
conversing with a group of passengers, and having pointed out the object
which his friend had discovered, a telescope being brought to bear soon
proved it to be what his quick eye had already assured him it was, a
boat pitching about bottom upwards, probably washed away from some
Australian liner like themselves. There was no trace, however, to be
seen of any one clinging to the keel, and time was too valuable and the
wind too fair for the vessel to be put off her course merely to pick up
an empty boat, which would most likely not be worth the trouble of
hoisting on board; so they passed on, and it was soon hull-down in the
distance.
The _Sea Rover_ had made all her southern latitude, descending to the
thirty-sixth parallel. She had passed the Island of Tristan d'Acunha,
although at some distance off, a few days before; and now as she was
well below the region sacred to the stormy Cape, and had run down the
trades, her course was set due east for Melbourne, from which she was
yet some thousands of miles away. The wind was fair, almost dead
astern, although the sea was high; and as the ship was rather light, she
rocked and rolled considerably, the waves washing over her decks, and
occasionally running over the poop in an avalanche of water, that swept
right forward and made any one hold on that did not wish to be washed
off their feet. The sea had a most winterly look. It appeared like a
vast hilly country with winding valleys, all covered with sloshy snow
just melted, the extreme tops of the waves looking like frozen peaks in
between, with the snow as yet not melted. The air, too, was as cold as
winter, for it blew from the Antarctic ice; and the gusts came more and
more frequent as evening closed in, raising the sea still higher in
towering mountains, that rushed after the ship, which was going from ten
to twelve-knots an hour under all plain sail, as if they would overwhelm
her, striking our sides every now and then heavy ponderous blows, that
made; her stagger from her course and quiver right down to her keelson.
One gust of wind came all at once with such startling force that it
split the main-topsail up like a piece of tissue-paper, and then the
captain thought it was about time to take in sail.
"I guess we're going to have a rough spell of it, Jonathan," said Davy,
as he moved away from his companion in obedience to the skipper's order,
"All hands shorten sail!" and stationed himself at his post by the
mizzen-halliards.
"Will it be serious, Dave?" asked the other, his pale face growing a
little paler with apprehension.
"Pooh! no, nothing to speak of, only a squall, Jonathan; so don't be
frightened, my boy."
A squall it was with a vengeance.
As the wind had been, right aft, the captain had kept the _Sea Rover_
under her royals and topgallantsails, without even taking in a reef, in
order to make the most of the twelve-knot breeze that was blowing: it
was only at the chief officer's request that a little time before he had
been induced to take in the stunsails; and now the wind seemed to expand
so suddenly into a gale, that it was as much as the seamen could do to
get the canvas off her before she was struck with the squall, that came
up astern at the rate of fifty miles an hour, covering the heavens to
windward with great black storm-clouds, and flying wrack like white
smoke that drifted before it, and seemed to herald the heavier metal
that lay behind that would come into action soon.
Everything was let fly, and only just in time; for, without the
slightest warning, the wind shifted and struck her on the starboard
quarter, and the vessel was almost taken aback, with the waves slipping
in over the bows and on the starboard and port sides as she rolled
heavily, borne down into the trough of the sea by the force of the gale,
her timbers groaning, the spars creaking, blocks rattling, and the wind
shrieking and whistling as it tore through the rigging and flapped the
sails heavily against the masts with the noise of thunder, as if it
would wrench them out of the ship bodily.
It was a scene of the utmost confusion while it lasted, with the men
running about the deck here and there and pulling and hauling at the
halliards and braces, and the captain yelling out stentorian orders
through his speaking-trumpet, which nobody apparently understood or
attended to; and Davy Armstrong, who had been up aloft to superintend
the furling of the mizzen, royal, and topgallantsails, and close reefing
of the topsail, was just congratulating himself on getting down on deck
alongside of Johnny Liston safe once more, when another squall struck
the ship from the opposite quarter, and she heeled over on her side
until she buried her topsail-yards in the billows, broadside on, as if
she were going to "turn the turtle."
"Oh!" exclaimed Johnny. "She's going over!"
"Not a bit of it," shouted out Dave in his ear, for the wind howled so
that he could hardly make his voice heard. "She'll right in a minute.
But that was a stiff blow!"
"Ay, stiffer than the last."
A heavy sea just at the same moment struck the rudder, which, through
the ship's lying over on her side, had been partly raised out of the
water, and whirled round the wheel with such force that the man who was
steering was lifted off his feet, and as he grasped the spokes with
desperation, was dashed down on the deck with an awful impetus, which
knocked him insensible. Dave, followed by Johnny, immediately rushed
aft, and took the helmsman's place, although it required all the
strength of the two boys to hold on and save the ship from broaching-to,
when her spars would have been swept off like ninepins, and a clean
sweep made of her bulwarks, and everything on her decks fore and aft, if
possible, she did not founder.
"Well done, my lads!" shouted out the captain. "Keep her to it," as he
ordered a couple of men aft to help them. "Keep her to it, my lads,
you'll be relieved in a jiffy. Hold on for the life of you, my lads;
hold on!"
Their strength, however, was unequal to the struggle.
Another sea struck the rudder again almost in the same place, and David
and Jonathan were floored in an instant.
Round span the wheel with mad velocity, now uncontrolled, jamming poor
Davy's leg between the rudder beam and the wheel post, while Johnny lay
sprawling on the deck, holding on like grim death to a stray end of the
mizzen-halliard that had been cast loose from the cleats. Another turn
of the spokes of the wheel, as the rudder was banged to and fro by the
billows, and Davy's leg was released, although sadly crushed, and he was
flung against the binnacle; and then a gigantic wave pooped the ship,
coming in over the stern, and before the captain, or Johnny, or the men
who were hurrying aft as rapidly as the motion of the ship would allow
them, could stretch out a hand to save him, poor Davy was swept over the
side to leeward, grasping tightly with the energy of despair, as he was
carried away, a portion of the roof of the wheelhouse, which had been
broken off by the same wave which washed him overboard, as well as part
of the bulwarks.
"Oh, Dave, Dave!" exclaimed Johnny Liston, holding on to the
mizzen-halliards still, and scrambling to his feet after the water
flowed over him and the ship righted again, as he saw David torn away by
the remorseless waters, and floating astern on the top of a great
mountainous billow, his hands upheld as if imploring help.
"Oh, Dave, Dave!" exclaimed Johnny Liston, apparently panic-stricken for
an instant, adding, as he turned half round towards the captain, "Why,
his leg is broken, and he can't swim!"
And then, without another moment's hesitation, or a single reflection of
the hopelessness of his task, or that he was endangering his own life as
well, the brave boy, grasping hold of one of the life-buoys that hung
close to the taffrail where he was supporting himself, as he watched the
wave bearing Dave away, plunged into the sea to his comrade's rescue.
"Hold on, Dave, I'm coming!" he shouted out at the pitch of his voice,
to encourage the sinking David.
And the next minute, ere any one could prevent him, he was over the
ship's side, battling with the powers of the deep.
STORY THREE, CHAPTER TWO.
STORY THREE, CHAPTER TWOCHAPTER TWO.
A VAIN QUEST.
"Man overboard!"
That cry, which those who have once heard it will never forget, echoed
far and wide through the ship, making itself heard above the dull roar
of the sea, the whistling of the wind as it tore through the rigging,
the creaking of the timbers, and the trampling of feet up and down the
deck, as the crew bustled to and fro, slackening a sheet here,
tightening a brace there, and preparing for emergencies, ready for
anything that might happen.
"Man overboard!"