In which Jack's cruise is ended, and he regains the Harpy.
A few more days passed, and, as was expected, the mutineers could hold
out no longer. In the first place, they had put in the spile of the
second cask of wine so loosely when they were tipsy that it dropped
out, and all the wine ran out, so that there had been none left for
three or four days; in the next their fuel had long been expended, and
they had latterly eaten their meat raw: the loss of their tent, which
had been fired by their carelessness, had been followed by four days
and nights of continual rain. Everything they had had been soaked
through and through, and they were worn out, shivering with cold, and
starving. Hanging they thought better than dying by inches from
starvation; and yielding to the imperious demands of hunger, they came
down to the beach, abreast of the ship, and dropped down on their
knees.
"I tell you so, Massa Easy," said Mesty: "d--n rascals, they forget
they come down fire musket at us every day: by all de powers, Mesty
not forget it."
"Ship ahoy!" cried one of the men on shore.
"What do you want?" replied Jack.
"Have pity on us, sir--mercy!" exclaimed the other men, "we will
return to our duty."
"Debble doubt 'em!" "What shall I say,
Mesty?"
"Tell 'em no, first, Massa Easy--tell 'em to starve and be d---d."
"I cannot take mutineers on board," replied Jack.
"Well, then, our blood be on your hands, Mr Easy," replied the first
man who had spoken.
"If we are to die, it must not be by inches--if you will not take us,
the sharks shall--it is but a crunch, and all is over. What do you
say, my lads? let's all rush in together: good-bye, Mr Easy, I hope
you'll forgive us when we're dead: it was all that rascal Johnson, the
coxswain, who persuaded us. Come, my lads, it's no use thinking of
it, the sooner done the better--let us shake hands, and then make one
run of it."
It appeared that the poor fellows had already made up their minds to
do this, if our hero, persuaded by Mesty, had refused to take them on
board; they shook hands all round, and then walking a few yards from
the beach, stood in a line while the man gave the signal--one--two--
"Stop," cried Jack, who had not forgotten the dreadful scene which had
already taken place--"stop."
The men paused.
"What will you promise if I take you on board?"
"To do our duty cheerfully till we join the ship, and then be hung as
an example to all mutineers," replied the men.
"Dat very fair," replied Mesty; "take dem at their word, Massa Easy."
"Very well," replied Jack, "I accept your conditions; and we will come
for you."
Jack and Mesty hauled up the boat, stuck their pistols in their belts,
and pulled to the shore. The men, as they stepped in, touched their
hats respectfully to our hero, but said nothing. On their arrival on
board, Jack read that part of the articles of war relative to mutiny,
by which the men were reminded of the very satisfactory fact, "that
they were to suffer death"; and then made a speech which, to men who
were starving, appeared to be interminable. However, there is an end
to everything in this world, and so there was to Jack's harangue;
after which Mesty gave them some biscuit, which they devoured in
thankfulness, until they could get something better.
The next morning the wind was fair, they weighed their kedge with some
difficulty, and ran out of the harbour: the men appeared very
contrite, worked well, but in silence, for they had no very pleasant
anticipations; but hope always remains with us; and each of the men,
although he had no doubt but that the others would be hung, hoped that
he would escape with a sound flogging. The wind, however, did not
allow them to steer their course long; before night it was contrary,
and they fell off three points to the northward. "However," as Jack
observed, "at all events we shall make the Spanish coast, and then we
must run down it to Gibraltar: I don't care--I understand navigation
much better than I did."
The next morning they found themselves with a very light breeze, under
a high cape, and, as the sun rose, they observed a large vessel
in-shore, about two miles to the westward of them, and another
outside, about four miles off. Mesty took the glass and examined the
one outside, which, on a sudden, had let fall all her canvas, and was
now running for the shore, steering for the cape under which Jack's
vessel lay. Mesty put down the glass.
"Massa Easy--I tink dat de Harpy." One of the seamen took the glass
and examined her, while the others who stood by showed great
agitation.
"Yes, it is the Harpy," said the seaman. "Oh! Mr Easy, will you
forgive us?" continued the man, and he and the others fell on their
knees. "Do not tell all, for God's sake, Mr Easy."
Jack's heart melted; he looked at Mesty. "I tink," said Mesty, apart
to our hero, "dat with what them hab suffer already, suppose they get
seven dozen a-piece, dat quite enough."
Jack thought that even half that punishment would suffice; so he told
the men, that although he must state what had occurred, he would not
tell all, and would contrive to get them off as well as he could. He
was about to make a long speech, but a gun from the Harpy, which had
now come up within range, made him defer it till a more convenient
opportunity. At the same time the vessel in-shore hoisted Spanish
colours and fired a gun.
"By de powers but we got in the middle of it," cried Mesty; "Harpy
tink us Spaniard. Now, my lads, get all gun ready, bring up powder
and shot. Massa, now us fire at Spaniard--Harpy not fire at us--no ab
English colours on board--dat all we must do."
The men set to with a will; the guns were all loaded, and were soon
cast loose and primed, during which operations it fell calm, and the
sails of all three vessels flapped against their masts. The Harpy was
then about two miles from Jack's vessel, and the Spaniard about a mile
from him, with all her boats ahead of her, towing towards him; Mesty
examined the Spanish vessel.
"Dat man-of-war, Massa Easy,--what de debbel we do for colour? must
hoist something." Mesty ran down below; he recollected that there was
a very gay petticoat, which had been left by the old lady who was in
the vessel when they captured her. It was of green silk, with yellow
and blue flowers, but very faded, having probably been in the Don's
family for a century. Mesty had found it under the mattress of one of
the beds, and had put it into his bag, intending probably to cut it up
into waistcoats. He soon appeared with this under his arm, made it
fast to the peak halyards and hoisted it up.
"Dere, Massa, dat do very well--dat what you call 'all nation colour.'
Everybody strike him flag to dat--men nebber pull it down," said
Mesty, "anyhow. Now den, ab hoist colour, we fire away--mind you only
fire one gun at a time, and point um well, den ab time to load again."
"She's hoisted her colours, sir," said Sawbridge, on board of the
Harpy; "but they do not show out clear, and it's impossible to
distinguish them; but there's a gun."
"It's not at us, sir," said Gascoigne, the midshipman; "it's at the
Spanish vessel--I saw the shot fall ahead of her."
"It must be a privateer," said Captain Wilson; "at all events, it is
very fortunate, for the corvettes would otherwise have towed into
Carthagena. Another gun, round and grape, and well pointed too; she
carries heavy metal, that craft: she must be a Maltese privateer."
"That's as much as to say that she's a pirate," replied Sawbridge; "I
can make nothing of her colours--they appear to me to be green--she
must be a Turk. Another gun--and devilish well aimed; it has hit the
boats."
"Yes, they are all in confusion: we will have her now, if we can only
get a trifle of wind. That is a breeze coming up in the offing. Trim
the sails, Mr Sawbridge."
The yards were squared, and the Harpy soon had steerage-way. In the
meantime Jack and his few men had kept up a steady, well-directed,
although slow, fire with their larboard guns upon the Spanish
corvette; and two of her boats had been disabled. The Harpy brought
the breeze up with her, and was soon within range; she steered to cut
off the corvette, firing only on her bow-chasers.
"We ab her now," cried Mesty; "fire away men, take good aim. Breeze
come now; one man go to helm. By de power what dat?"
The exclamation of Mesty was occasioned by a shot hulling the ship on
the starboard side. Jack and he ran over, and perceived that three
Spanish gun-boats had just made their appearance round the point, and
had attacked them. The fact was, that on the other side of the cape
was the port and town of Carthagena, and these gun-boats had been sent
out to the assistance of the corvette. The ship had now caught the
breeze, fortunately for Jack, or he would probably have been taken
into Carthagena; and the corvette, finding herself cut off by both the
Harpy and Jack's vessel, as soon as the breeze came up to her, put her
head the other way, and tried to escape by running westward along the
coast close in-shore.
Another shot, and then another, pierced the hull of the ship, and
wounded two of Jack's men; but as the corvette had turned, and the
Harpy followed her, of course Jack did the same, and in ten minutes he
was clear of the gun-boats, who did not venture to make sail and stand
after him. The wind now freshened fast, and blew out the green
petticoat, but the Harpy was exchanging broadsides with the corvette,
and too busy to look after Jack's ensign. The Spaniard defended
himself well, and had the assistance of the batteries as he passed,
but there was no anchorage until he had run many miles further.
About noon, the wind died away, and at one o'clock it again fell
nearly calm; but the Harpy had neared her distance, and was now within
three cables' length of her antagonist, engaging her and a battery of
four guns. Jack came up again, for he had the last of the breeze, and
was about half a mile from the corvette when it fell calm. By the
advice of Mesty, he did not fire anymore, as otherwise the Harpy would
not obtain so much credit, and it was evident that the fire of the
Spaniard slackened fast. At three o'clock the Spanish colours were
hauled down, and the Harpy, sending a boat on board and taking
possession, directed her whole fire upon the battery, which was soon
silenced.
The calm continued, and the Harpy was busy enough with the prize,
shifting the prisoners and refitting both vessels, which had very much
suffered in the sails and rigging. There was an occasional wonder on
board the Harpy what that strange vessel might be, who had turned the
corvette and enabled them to capture her, but when people are all very
busy, there is not much time for surmise.
Jack's crew, with himself, consisted but of eight, one of which was a
Spaniard, and two were wounded. It therefore left him but four, and
he had also something to do, which was to assist his wounded men, and
secure his guns. Moreover, Mesty did not think it prudent to leave
the vessel a mile from the Harpy with only two on board; besides, as
Jack said, he had had no dinner, and was not quite sure that he should
find anything to eat when he went into the midshipmen's berth; he
would therefore have some dinner cooked, and eat it before he went on
board; in the meantime, they would try and close with her. Jack took
things always very easy, and he said he should report himself at
sunset. There were other reasons which made Jack in no very great
hurry to go on board; he wanted to have time to consider a little,
what he should say to excuse himself, and also how he should plead for
the men. His natural correctness of feeling decided him, in the first
place, to tell the whole truth; and in the next, his kind feelings
determined him to tell only part of it. Jack need not have given
himself this trouble, for, as far as regarded himself, he had fourteen
thousand good excuses in the bags that lay in the state-room; and as
for the men, after an action with the enemy, if they behave well, even
mutiny is forgiven. At last, Jack, who was tired with excitement and
the hard work of the day, thought and thought until he fell fast
asleep, and instead of waking at sunset, did not wake till two hours
afterwards; and Mesty did not call him, because he was in no hurry
himself to go on board "and boil de kettle for de young gentlemen."
When Jack woke up, he was astonished to find that he had slept so
long; he went on deck; it was dark and still calm, but he could easily
perceive that the Harpy and corvette were still hove-to, repairing
damages. He ordered the men to lower down the small boat, and leaving
Mesty in charge, with two oars he pulled to the Harpy. What with
wounded men, with prisoners, and boats going and coming between the
vessels, everyone on board the Harpy were well employed; and in the
dark, Jack's little boat came alongside without notice. This should
not have been the case, but it was, and there was some excuse for it.
Jack ascended the side, and pushed his way through the prisoners, who
were being mustered to be victualled. He was wrapped up in one of the
gregos, and many of the prisoners wore the same.
Jack was amused at not being recognised; he slipped down the main
ladder, and had to stoop under the hammocks of the wounded men, and
was about to go aft to the captain's cabin to report himself, when he
heard young Gossett crying out, and the sound of the rope. "Hang me,
if that brute Vigors ain't thrashing young Gossett," thought Jack. "I
dare say the poor fellow has had plenty of it since I have been away;
I'll save him this time, at least." Jack, wrapped up in his grego,
went to the window of the berth, looked in, and found it was as he
expected. He cried out in an angry voice, Mr Vigors, I'll thank you to
leave Gossett alone. At the sound of the voice, Vigors turned round
with his colt in his hand, saw Jack's face at the window, and,
impressed with the idea that the re-appearance was supernatural,
uttered a wail and fell down in a fit--little Gossett also, trembling
in every limb, stared with his mouth open. Jack was satisfied, and
immediately disappeared. He then went aft to the cabin, pushed by the
servant, who was giving some orders from the captain to the officer on
deck, and entering the cabin, where the captain was seated with two
Spanish officers, took off his hat and said,--
"Come on board, Captain Wilson."
Captain Wilson did not fall down in a fit, but he jumped up, and upset
the glass before him. "Merciful God, Mr Easy, where did you come
from?"
"From that ship astern, sir," replied Jack. "That ship astern! what is
she?--where have you been so long?"
"It's a long story, sir," replied Jack. Captain Wilson extended
his hand and shook Jack's heartily. "At all events, I'm delighted to
see you, boy: now sit down and tell me your story in a few words; we
will have it in detail by-and-bye."
"If you please, sir," said Jack, "we captured that ship with the
cutter the night after we went away--I'm not a first-rate navigator,
and I was blown to the Zaffarine Islands, where I remained two months
for want of hands: as soon as I procured them I made sail again--I
have lost three men by sharks, and I have two wounded in to-day's
fight--the ship mounts twelve guns, is half laden with lead and cotton
prints, has fourteen thousand dollars in the cabin, and three
shot-holes right through her--and the sooner you send some people on
board of her the better."
This was not very intelligible, but that there were fourteen thousand
dollars and that she required hands sent on board, was very
satisfactorily explained. Captain Wilson rang the bell, sent for Mr
Asper, who started back at the sight of our hero--desired him to order
Mr Jolliffe to go on board with one of the cutters, send the wounded
men on board, and take charge of the vessel, and then told Jack to
accompany Mr Jolliffe, and to give him every information: telling him
that he would hear his story to-morrow, when they were not so very
busy.