SOME OF THE dramatis personae INTRODUCED--RETROSPECTIVE GLANCES--CAUSES
OF FUTURE EFFECTS--OUR HERO'S EARLY LIFE AT SEA--A PIRATE--A TERRIBLE
FIGHT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES--BUZZBY'S HELM LASHED AMIDSHIPS--A WHALING
CRUISE BEGUN.
Nobody ever caught John Buzzby asleep by any chance whatever. No weasel
was ever half so sensitive on that point as he was. Wherever he
happened to be (and in the course of his adventurous life he had been to
nearly all parts of the known world) he was the first awake in the
morning and the last asleep at night; he always answered promptly to the
first call, and was never known by any man living to have been seen with
his eyes shut, except when he winked, and that operation he performed
less frequently than other men.
John Buzzby was an old salt--a regular true-blue jack tar of the old
school, who had been born and bred at sea; had visited foreign parts
innumerable; had weathered more storms than he could count, and had
witnessed more strange sights than he could remember. He was tough, and
sturdy, and grizzled, and broad, and square, and massive--a first-rate
specimen of a John Bull, and, according to himself, "always kept his
weather-eye open." This remark of his was apt to create confusion in
the minds of his hearers, for John meant the expression to be understood
figuratively, while, in point of fact, he almost always kept one of his
literal eyes open and the other partially closed, but as he reversed the
order of arrangement frequently, he might have been said to keep his
lee-eye as much open as the weather one. This peculiarity gave to his
countenance an expression of earnest thoughtfulness mingled with humour.
Buzzby was fond of being thought old, and he looked much older than he
really was. Men guessed his age at fifty-five, but they were ten years
out in their reckoning, for John had numbered only forty-five summers,
and was as tough and muscular as ever he had been--although not quite so
elastic.
John Buzzby stood on the pier of the seaport town of Grayton watching
the active operations of the crew of a whaling ship which was on the
point of starting for the icebound seas of the frozen regions, and
making sundry remarks to a stout, fair-haired boy of fifteen, who stood
by his side gazing at the ship with an expression of deep sadness.
"She's a trim-built craft and a good sea-boat, I'll be bound, Master
Fred," observed the sailor, "but she's too small by half, accordin' to
my notions, and I _have_ seen a few whalers in my day. Them
bow-timbers, too, are scarce thick enough for goin' bump agin the ice o'
Davis Straits. Howsome'iver, I've seen worse craft drivin' a good trade
in the Polar Seas."
"She's a first-rate craft in all respects, and you have too high an
opinion of your own judgment," replied the youth indignantly. "Do you
suppose that my father, who is an older man than yourself, and as good a
sailor, would buy a ship, and fit her out, and go off to the
whale-fishery in her if he did not think her a good one?"
"Ah! Master Fred, you're a chip of the old block--neck or nothing--
carry on all sail till you tear the masts out of her! Reef the
t'gallant sails of your temper, boy, and don't run foul of an old man
who has been all but a wet-nurse to ye--taught ye to walk, and swim, and
pull an oar, and build ships, and has hauled ye out o' the sea when ye
fell in--from the time ye could barely stump along on two legs, lookin'
like as if ye was more nor half seas over."
"Well, Buzzby," replied the boy, laughing, "if you've been all that to
me, I think you _have_ been a wet-nurse too! But why do you run down my
father's ship? Do you think I'm going to stand that? No, not even from
you, old boy."
"Hallo! youngster," shouted a voice from the deck of the vessel in
question, "run up and tell your father we're all ready, and if he don't
make haste he'll lose the tide, so he will, and that'll make us have to
start on a Friday, it will, an' that'll not do for me no how, it won't;
so make sail and look sharp about it, do--won't you?"
"What a tongue he's got," remarked Buzzby. "Before I'd go to sea with a
first mate who jawed like that I'd be a landsman. Don't ever you git to
talk too much, Master Fred, wotever ye do. My maxim is--and it has
served me through life, uncommon,--`Keep your weather-eye open and your
tongue housed 'xcept when you've got occasion to use it.' If that
fellow'd use his eyes more and his tongue less he'd see your father
comin' down the road there, right before the wind; with his old sister
in tow."
"How I wish he would have let me go with him!" muttered Fred to himself
sorrowfully.
"No chance now, I'm a-feared," remarked his companion. "The gov'nor's
as stiff as a nor'wester. Nothin' in the world can turn him once he's
made up his mind, but a regular sou'easter. Now, if you had been _my_
son, and yonder tight craft _my_ ship, I would have said, come, at once.
But your father knows best, lad, and you're a wise son to obey orders
cheerfully, without question. That's another o' my maxims: `Obey orders
an' ax no questions.'"
Frederick Ellice, senior, who now approached, whispering words of
consolation into the ear of his weeping sister, might, perhaps, have
just numbered fifty years. He was a fine, big, bold, hearty Englishman,
with a bald head, grizzled locks, a loud but not harsh voice, a rather
quick temper, and a kind, earnest, enthusiastic heart. Like Buzzby, he
had spent nearly all his life at sea, and had become so thoroughly
accustomed to walking on an unstable foundation, that he felt quite
uncomfortable on solid ground, and never remained more than a few months
at a time on shore. He was a man of good education and gentlemanly
manners, and had worked his way up in the merchant service, step by
step, until he obtained the command of a West India trader.
A few years previous to the period in which our tale opens, an event
occurred which altered the course of Captain Ellice's life, and for a
long period plunged him into the deepest affliction. This was the loss
of his wife at sea, under peculiarly distressing circumstances.
At the age of thirty Captain Ellice had married a pretty blue-eyed girl,
who resolutely refused to become a sailor's bride, unless she should be
permitted to accompany her husband to sea. This was without much
difficulty agreed to, and forthwith Alice Bremner became Mrs Ellice,
and went to sea. It was during her third voyage to the West Indies that
our hero, Fred, was born, and it was during this, and succeeding
voyages, that Buzzby became "all but a wet-nurse" to him.
Mrs Ellice was a loving, gentle, seriously-minded woman. She devoted
herself, heart and soul, to the training of her boy, and spent many a
pleasant hour in that little unsteady cabin, in endeavouring to instil
into his infant mind the blessed truths of Christianity, and in making
the name of Jesus familiar to his ear. As Fred grew older, his mother
encouraged him to hold occasional intercourse with the sailors, for her
husband's example taught her the value of a bold, manly spirit, and she
knew that it was impossible for her to instil _that_ into him, but she
was careful to guard him from the evil that he might chance to learn
from the men, by committing him to the tender care of Buzzby. To do the
men justice, however, this was almost unnecessary, for they felt that a
mother's watchful eye was on the child, and no unguarded word fell from
their lips while he was romping about the forecastle.
When it was time for Fred to go to school, Mrs Ellice gave up her
roving life, and settled in her native town of Grayton, where she
resided with her widowed sister, Amelia Bright, and her niece Isobel.
Here Fred received the rudiments of an excellent education at a private
academy. At the age of twelve, however, Master Fred became restive,
and, during one of his father's periodical visits home, begged to be
taken to sea. Captain Ellice agreed; Mrs Ellice insisted on
accompanying them, and in a few weeks they were once again on their old
home, the ocean, and Fred was enjoying his native air in company with
his friend Buzzby, who stuck to the old ship like one of her own stout
timbers.
But this was destined to be a disastrous voyage. One evening, after
crossing the line, they descried a suspicious-looking schooner to
windward, bearing down upon them under a cloud of canvas.
"What do you think of her, Buzzby?" enquired Captain Ellice, handing his
glass to the seaman.
Buzzby gazed in silence and with compressed lips for some time; then he
returned the glass, at the same time muttering the word: "Pirate."
"I thought so," said the captain in a deep, unsteady voice. "There is
but one course for us, Buzzby," he continued, glancing towards his wife,
who, all unconscious of their danger, sat near the taffrail, employed
with her needle; "these fellows show no mercy, because they expect none,
either from God or man. We must fight to the last. Go, prepare the men
and get out the arms. I'll tell my wife."
Buzzby went forward, but the captain's heart failed him, and he took two
or three rapid, hesitating turns on the quarter-deck ere he could make
up his mind to speak.
"Alice," he said at length abruptly, "yonder vessel is a pirate."
Mrs Ellice looked up in surprise, and her face grew pale as her eye met
the troubled gaze of her husband.
"Are you quite sure, Frederick?"
"Yes, quite. Would God that I were left alone to--but--nay, do not be
alarmed; perhaps I am wrong; it may be a--a clipper-built trading
vessel. If not, Alice, we must make some show of fighting, and try to
frighten them. Meanwhile you must go below."
The captain spoke encouragingly as he led his wife to the cabin, but his
candid countenance spoke too truthfully, and she felt that his look of
anxious concern bade her fear the worst.
Pressing her fervently to his heart, Captain Ellice sprang on deck.
By this time the news had spread through the ship, and the crew,
consisting of upwards of thirty men, were conversing earnestly in knots
of four or five while they sharpened and buckled on cutlasses, or loaded
pistols and carbines.
"Send the men aft, Mr Thompson," said the captain, as he paced the deck
to and fro, casting his eyes occasionally on the schooner, which was
rapidly nearing the vessel. "Take another pull at these
main-topsail-halyards, and send the steward down below for my sword and
pistols. Let the men look sharp; we've no time to lose, and hot work is
before us."
"I will go for your sword, Father," cried Fred, who had just come on
deck.
"Boy, boy, you must go below; you can be of no use here."
"But, Father, you know that I'm not _afraid_."
"I know that, boy; I know it well; but you're too young to fight; you're
not strong enough; besides, you must comfort and cheer your mother, she
may want you."
"I am old enough and strong enough to load and fire a pistol, Father;
and I heard one of the men say we would need all the hands on board, and
more if we had them; besides, it was my mother who told me what was
going on, and sent me on deck to _help you to fight_."
A momentary gleam of pride lit up the countenance of the captain as he
said hastily: "You may stay, then," and turned towards the men, who now
stood assembled on the quarterdeck.
Addressing the crew in his own blunt, vigorous style, he said: "Lads,
yon rascally schooner is a pirate, as you all know well enough. I need
not ask you if you are ready to fight--I see by your looks you are. But
that's not enough--you must make up your minds to fight _well_. You
know that pirates give no quarter. I see the decks are swarming with
men. If you don't go at them like bull-dogs you'll walk the plank
before sunset, every man of you. Now, go forward, and double-shot your
muskets and pistols, and stick as many of the latter into your belts as
they will hold. Mr Thompson, let the gunner double-shot the four big
guns, and load the little carronade with musket balls to the muzzle. If
they do try to board us, they'll get a warm reception."
"There goes a shot, sir," said Buzzby, pointing towards the piratical
schooner, from the side of which a white cloud burst and a round shot
ricochetted over the sea, passing close ahead of the ship.
"Ay, that's a request for us to lay-to," said the captain bitterly, "but
we won't. Keep her away a point."
"Ay, ay, sir," sung out the man at the wheel. A second and third shot
were fired, but passed unheeded, and the captain, fully expecting that
the next would be fired into them, ordered the men below.
"We can't afford to lose a man, Mr Thompson; send them all down."
"Please, sir, may I remain?" said Buzzby, touching his hat.
"Obey orders," answered the captain sternly. The sailor went below with
a sulky fling.
For nearly an hour the two vessels cut through the water before a steady
breeze, during which time the fast-sailing schooner gradually overhauled
the heavy West-Indiaman, until she approached within speaking distance.
Still Captain Ellice paid no attention to her, but stood with compressed
lips beside the man at the wheel, gazing alternately at the sails of his
vessel, and at the windward horizon, where he fancied he saw indications
that led him to hope the breeze would fail ere long.
As the schooner drew nearer, a man leaped on the hammock-nettings, and,
putting a trumpet to his mouth, sang out lustily: "Ship ahoy, where are
you from and what's your cargo?"
Captain Ellice made no reply, but ordered four of his men on deck to
point one of the stern-chasers.
Again the voice came harshly across the waves, as if in passion: "Heave
to, or I'll sink you." At the same moment the black flag was run up to
the peak, and a shot passed between the main and fore-mast.
"Stand by to point this gun," said the captain in a subdued voice.
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"Fetch a red-hot iron; luff, luff a little--a little more--steady, so."
At the last word there was a puff and a roar, and an iron messenger flew
towards the schooner. The gun had been fired more as a reply of
defiance to the pirate, than with the hope of doing him any damage, but
the shot had been well aimed--it cut the schooner's main-sail-yard in
two, and brought it rattling down on deck. Instantly the pirate yawed
and delivered a broadside, but in the confusion on deck the guns were
badly aimed, and none took effect. The time lost in this manoeuvre,
added to the crippled condition of the schooner, enabled the
West-Indiaman to gain considerably on her antagonist, but the pirate
kept up a well-directed fire with his bow-chasers, and many of the shots
struck the hull, and cut the rigging seriously. As the sun descended
towards the horizon the wind fell gradually, and ceased at length
altogether, so that both vessels lay rolling on the swell with their
sails flapping idly against the masts.
"They're a gittin' out the boats, sir," remarked John Buzzby, who,
unable to restrain himself any longer, had crept upon deck at the risk
of another reprimand; "and, if my eyes be'nt deceiving me, there's a
sail on the horizon to wind'ard--leastways, the direction which _wos_
wind'ard afore it fell calm."
"She's bringing a breeze along with her," remarked the captain, "but I
fear the boats will come up before it reaches us. There are three in
the water, and manned already. There they come. Now, then, call up all
hands."
In a few seconds the crew of the West-Indiaman were at their stations,
ready for action, and Captain Ellice, with Fred at his elbow, stood
beside one of the stern-chasers. Meanwhile, the boats of the pirate--
five in number--pulled away in different directions, evidently with the
intention of attacking the ship at different points. They were full of
men armed to the teeth. While they rowed towards the ship the schooner
resumed its fire, and one ball cut away the spanker boom, and slightly
wounded two of the men with splinters. The guns of the ship were now
brought to bear on the boats, but without effect, although the shot
plunged into the water all round them. As they drew nearer, a brisk
fire of musketry was opened on them, and the occasional falling of an
oar and confusion on board showed that the shots told. The pirates
replied vigorously, but without effect, as the men of the ship were
sheltered by the bulwarks.
"Pass the word to load and reserve fire," said the captain, "and hand me
a musket, Fred. Load again as fast as I fire." So saying, the captain
took aim, and fired at the steersman of the largest boat, which pulled
towards the stern. "Another, Fred--"
At this moment a withering volley was poured upon the boat, and a savage
yell of agony followed, while the rowers--who remained unhurt--paused
for an instant as if paralysed. Next instant they recovered, and
another stroke would have brought them almost alongside, when Captain
Ellice pointed the little carronade and fired. There was a terrific
crash, the gun recoiled violently to the other side of the deck, and the
pirate boat sank, leaving the sea covered with dead and wounded men. A
number, however, who seemed to bear charmed lives, seized their
cutlasses with their teeth, and swam boldly for the ship. This
incident, unfortunately, attracted too much of the attention of the
crew, and, ere they could prevent it, another boat reached the bow of
the ship, the crew of which sprang up the side like cats, formed on the
forecastle, and poured a volley upon the men.
"Follow me, lads," shouted the captain, as he sprang forward like a
tiger. The first man he reached fell by a ball from his pistol; in
another moment the opposing parties met in a hand-to-hand conflict.
Meanwhile Fred, having been deeply impressed with the effect of the shot
from the little carronade, succeeded in raising and reloading it. He
had scarcely accomplished this when one of the boats reached the
larboard quarter, and two of the men sprang up the side. Fred observed
them, and felled the first with a handspike before he reached the deck,
but the pirate who instantly followed, would have killed him, had he not
been observed by the second mate, who had prevented several of the men
from joining in the melee on the forecastle, in order to meet such an
emergency as this. Rushing to the rescue with his party, he drove the
pirates back into the boat, which was immediately pulled towards the
bow, where the other two boats were now grappling and discharging their
crews on the forecastle. Although the men of the West-Indiaman fought
with desperate courage, they could not stand before the increasing
numbers of pirates, who now crowded the forepart of the ship in a dense
mass. Gradually they were beaten back, and at length were brought to
bay on the quarter-deck.
"Help, Father!" cried Fred, pushing through the struggling crowd,
"here's the carronade ready loaded."
"Ha! boy, well done!" cried the captain, seizing the gun, and, with the
help of Buzzby, who never left his side, dragging it forward. "Clear
the way, lads!"
In a moment the little cannon was pointed to the centre of the mass of
men, and fired. One awful shriek of agony rose above the din of the
fight, as a wide gap was cut through the crowd; but this only seemed to
render the survivors more furious. With a savage yell they charged the
quarter-deck, but were hurled back again and again by the captain, and a
few chosen men who stood around him. At length one of the pirates, who
had been all along conspicuous for his strength and daring, stepped
deliberately up, and, pointing a pistol at the captain's breast, fired.
Captain Ellice fell, and at the same moment a ball laid the pirate low;
another charge was made; Fred rushed forward to protect his father, but
was thrown down and trodden under foot in the rush, and in two minutes
more the ship was in possession of the pirates.
Being filled with rage at the opposition they had met with, these
villains proceeded, as they said, to make short work of the crew, while
several of them sprang into the cabin, where they discovered Mrs Ellice
almost dead with terror. Dragging her violently on deck, they were
about to cast her into the sea, when Buzzby, who stood with his hands
bound, suddenly burst his bonds and sprang towards her. A blow from the
butt of a pistol, however, stretched him insensible on the deck.
"Where is my husband?--my boy?" screamed Mrs Ellice wildly.
"They've gone before you, or they'll soon follow," said a savage
fiercely, as he raised her in his powerful arms, and hurled her
overboard. A loud shriek was followed by a heavy plunge. At the same
moment two of the men raised the captain, intending to throw him
overboard also, when a loud boom arrested their attention, and a
cannon-shot ploughed up the sea close in front of their bows.
While the fight was raging, no one had observed the fact that the breeze
had freshened, and a large man-of-war, with American colours at her
peak, was now within gunshot of the ship. No sooner did the pirates
make this discovery than they rushed to their boats, with the intention
of pulling to their schooner, but those who had been left in charge,
seeing the approach of the man-of-war, and feeling that there was no
chance of escape for their comrades, or, as is more than probable, being
utterly indifferent about them, crowded all sail, and slipped away, and
it was now hull-down on the horizon to leeward. The men in the boats
rowed after her with the energy of despair, but the Americans gave
chase, and we need scarcely add that, in a very short time, all were
captured.
When the man-of-war rejoined the West-Indiaman, the night had set in and
a stiff breeze had arisen, so that the long and laborious search that
was made for the body of poor Mrs Ellice, proved utterly fruitless.
Captain Ellice, whose wound was very severe, was struck down as if by a
thunderbolt, and for a long time his life was despaired of. During his
illness Fred nursed him with the utmost tenderness, and, in seeking to
comfort his father, found some relief to his own stricken heart.
Months passed away. Captain Ellice was conveyed to the residence of his
sister in Grayton, and, under her care, and the nursing of his little
niece, Isobel, he recovered his wonted health and strength. To the eyes
of men, Captain Ellice and his son were themselves again, but those who
judge of men's hearts by their outward appearance and expressions, in
nine cases out of ten judge very wide of the mark indeed. Both had
undergone a great change. The brilliancy and glitter of this world had
been completely and rudely dispelled, and both had been led to enquire
whether there was not something better to live for than mere present
advantage and happiness; something that would stand by them in those
hours of sickness and sorrow which must inevitably, sooner or later,
come upon all men.
But Captain Ellice could not be induced to resume the command of his old
ship, or voyage again to the West Indies. He determined to change the
scene of his future labours and sail to the frozen seas, where the
aspect of every object--even the ocean itself--would be very unlikely to
recall the circumstances of his loss.
Some time after his recovery, Captain Ellice purchased a brig, and
fitted her out as a whaler, determined to try his fortune in the
northern seas. Fred pleaded hard to be taken out, but his father felt
that he had more need to go to school than to sea; so he refused, and
Fred, after sighing very deeply once or twice, gave in with a good
grace. Buzzby, too, who stuck to his old commander like a leech, was
equally anxious to go, but Buzzby, in a sudden and unaccountable fit of
tenderness, had, just two months before, married a wife, who might be
appropriately described as "fat, fair, and forty," and Buzzby's wife
absolutely forbade him to go. Alas! Buzzby was no longer his own
master. At the age of forty-five he became--as he himself expressed
it--an abject slave, and he would as soon have tried to steer in a
slipper bath, right in the teeth of an equinoctial hurricane, as have
opposed the will of his wife. He used to sigh gruffly when spoken to on
this subject, and compare himself to a Dutch galliot that made more
lee-way than head-way, even with a wind on the quarter. "Once," he
would remark, "I was clipper-built and could sail right in the wind's
eye, but ever since I tuck this craft in tow I've gone to leeward like a
tub. In fact, I find there's only one way of going ahead with my Poll,
and that is right before the wind! I used to yaw about a good deal at
first, but she tuck that out o' me in a day or two. If I put the helm
only so much as one stroke to starboard, she guv' a tug at the tow-rope
that brought the wind dead aft again; so I've gi'n it up, and lashed the
tiller right amidships."
So Buzzby did not accompany his old commander; he did not even so much
as suggest the possibility of it, but he shook his head with great
solemnity as he stood with Fred, and Mrs Bright, and Isobel, at the end
of the pier, gazing at the brig, with one eye very much screwed up, and
a wistful expression in the other, while the graceful craft spread out
her canvas and bent over to the breeze.