Sir, I thank you--
My heart is full of thanks to you.
_The Dream_.
*John*. Surrender, sirs.
*Isaac*. Never; we die first.
_Old Play_.
Full many a fathom deep they rushed
Down--down the dark abyss.
_Ballad_.
Mr Durocher, with the vivacity and warm-heartedness of a Frenchman,
embraced young Coe, calling him his preserver, and overwhelming him with
thanks.
"Thank only God, my dear sir," replied the deliverer. "I am not doing
even all my duty. How many lives may be lost on deck while I am
delaying here! Mr Bowsprit," he continued, addressing that individual,
"bind the hands of your prisoners at once, and then come, with your men,
upon deck with me."
Through the open door of the state-room he could see Ada, still pointing
her pistol at Joe, whose right arm hung loosely at his side.
"Madam," asked John, "is that man's arm broken?"
"Yes," she answered; "I broke it with a pistol-shot; but I understand a
little of surgery, and can easily set it if I can get a few splinters of
wood."
Mr Durocher had hastened to his daughter and was holding her in his
embrace, when hearing the word madam addressed to a person in male
attire, he said--
"From this gentleman calling you madam, I suppose that you are a woman,
and understand those sudden sicknesses caused by excited feelings, and
peculiar to women?"
"I am a woman," answered Ada, blushing; "and I understand you. I see
that your daughter has fainted. I will attend to her. Have you any
salts?" she continued, addressing Celeste.
The poor quadroon girl was herself near to the point of swooning; but
aroused herself when thus addressed, and hastened to bring the
restoratives asked for. While she was searching for these among the
vials and bottles of the medicine-case, Mr Durocher laid his daughter
upon the bed. He then turned to Ada, and said--
"You need not trouble yourself with that man any more. Let him come
into my state-room adjoining this, and lie upon my bed. I understand
something of surgery myself; I also have the materials for making
splinters, and will dress his wound."
Meantime, in the saloon, the hands of the prisoners were bound, even
those of Afton. Leaving one of his men to guard the prisoners, Coe and
the rest hastened upon deck. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed since he
had left the deck--so many incidents may occur in a brief period of
time, when the struggle is one of life and death.
The man who had been placed at the helm by Captain Johnson still kept
his post. Through all the excitement and confusion, through the uproar
and perils of the storm and the battle, that sturdy and brave seaman
had, with unflinching patience and fidelity, and by a skilful management
of the helm, watched for and warded off the effect of every huge wave
which had threatened the safety of this ship. When the two vessels had
come together, he had, by good guidance, broken to a great extent the
force of the collision. When he had seen his comrades pressed by vastly
superior numbers, and knew that his own safety depended on their
successful defence--when he had seen the pirates hurry into the cabin
where were only the sickly old man and the two helpless females--he had
firmly maintained his post, steadily and faithfully performing the
duties which had been assigned to him. He knew that upon him depended
the safety of all on board; that the slightest neglect on his part, the
slightest failure of hand or eye, might allow the ship to broach to and
be swamped in the tremendous seas which were now running.
Fidelity to duty, in instances of this kind, exhibits the purest type of
heroism of character. And such instances are very common in ordinary
life, among all classes, and especially among the humblest. There is
seldom any genuine heroism in mere fighting; when man's passions are
stirred--whether by feelings right or wrong--and his animal nature
thoroughly roused, fighting is an absolute enjoyment to him; and in
battle there is the additional incentive of glory to urge him to acts of
valour. But, too often, in the apparent stillness of quiet life, there
are duties which are discharged amid ceaseless temptations to neglect
them. These nobody notes as worthy of especial honour; because they
occur every day, every hour. Many persons cross the Atlantic to see
Niagara, and they talk of its grandeur and sublimity--and justly do they
do so; yet who speaks of, or even notes the fact, which all must
acknowledge, that the sky, which by day and by night bends over the head
of every man, woman, and child in every part of the world, is a thousand
times grander and more sublime than even the wonderful cataract? A
blessed truth it is to the humble disciples of humble duty, that, though
no earthly being observes them with praise, God sees them.
There was yet a faint glimmer of daylight when John Coe came upon the
deck of the ship. In that dim light the fight was still going on. It
had commenced with twelve men from the _Falcon_ on the one side, and ten
men belonging to the _Duchess_ on the other. So nearly were the
individuals of the contending parties balanced in personal strength and
prowess, that the success of the pirates had been very nearly in exact
proportion to their superiority of number. The loss was of two men upon
each side, and the defenders of the ship had been driven back to a
position very near to the quarter-deck; but of the pirates one was
wounded and one was killed, while of the defenders two only were
wounded. Both of the parties were fighting with cutlasses only; the
pistols had all been fired in the beginning of the engagement, and there
had since been no opportunity of reloading them.
Coe, with his small force, threw himself between the contending ranks,
flashing his cutlass right and left, and striking upwards the clashing
weapons.
"Hold your hands," he cried, in a loud voice. "My party is a small one;
but we are enough to settle this contest at once in favour of the side
into whose support we may throw ourselves."
The pirates at once dropped their points and fell back; they, of course,
felt convinced that a reinforcement had come to their help. Captain
Johnson and his men, however, naturally looking upon the new comers as
enemies, and supposing that Coe's mode of dealing with existing affairs
was a _ruse_ to take them at disadvantage, were not disposed to cease
fighting so readily. Still, Captain Johnson reflected that it would be
well to hear what proposition was to be made. He, therefore, dropped
his point and retired a step or two, and ordered his men to cease
fighting and to fall back. His command was immediately obeyed.
"Mr Brown," said Coe, addressing Bowsprit, as soon as he saw that the
fighting was suspended, "you and your men are supplied with two pistols
apiece, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," answered Billy.
"Are they all loaded?" asked Coe.
"All loaded," was the echoed answer.
"Then draw, each of you, one in each hand," said our hero, "and have
each pistol ready for instant use. But keep your cutlasses suspended by
the cord from the right wrist."
Coe's order was instantly obeyed; and he himself at the moment prepared
his weapons as he had commanded the others to prepare theirs.
"Gentlemen pirates," he said, sarcastically, addressing those of the
boarding-party who had been engaged in the fight, "you will remember
that when I accepted the high and distinguished office of captain of
marines on board of the brig _Falcon_, the free rover, I did so
provisionally, and on the express condition that I retained the right of
resigning whenever I should think proper to do so. I exercise that
reserved right now. I resign the honourable post so flatteringly
offered to me; and I am, therefore, no longer a member of the gallant
band composing the crew of the brig _Falcon_."
"What's the meaning of all this fine talk?" asked a gruff-looking
pirate. "What have we got to do with your affairs at this time?"
"It means that I never have been, and never have intended to be, a
pirate," answered the captain; "I had rather die a thousand deaths than
be one of your kind. I was taken prisoner by deceit, and was then
entirely in your power; yet, even in such circumstances, my first
impulse was to defy your whole band and thus to bring on my own death
rather than to seem to become a member of your ship's company. I was
induced to act as I have done, partly by the advice of a friend whom
circumstances had forced to remain among you, but mainly by the
conviction that the Ruler of Events would not have allowed me to be
taken prisoner by you merely for the purpose of permitting my death. I
hoped not only that I might thus be able to make my escape, but that I
might prevent some of the evil which you are accustomed to do in your
vocation, and might also find amongst your number some whom I could
induce to become again honest men. I see a good prospect of success in
all these objects."
"What's the use of all this argufying?" said the sailor who had before
spoken, and who was boatswain of the _Falcon_. "Tell us what do you
mean? What are you going to do?"
"What I mean is this," answered Coe. "Lay down your arms at once and
surrender. You have no chance of defending yourselves successfully
against such odds as will now be opposed to you."
"You don't mean to say," said the boatswain, "that Leftenant Bowsprit
and them others there have turned agin us?"
"We are all," answered Bowsprit, "pledged to stand by Mr Coe for life
or death."
"As to them other fellows there," said the boatswain, "I never had much
faith in them; but I didn't think, leftenant, that you would ever desert
us."
"I am determined," replied Bowsprit, "to live hereafter, and to die, an
honest man."
"And to get yourself hanged," sneered the sailor.
"I had rather things should come to that," said Bowsprit, "than ever to
be a pirate again."
"Come," said Coe; "you must decide quickly. Do you surrender?"
"Never," answered the boatswain. "We can hold out until old bully Afton
comes from the cabin--confound him, he's always after the gals and the
rhino--we shall then be equal to you. Never say `die'--heh, boys?"
The pirates answered him by cheers, mingled with oaths, swearing that
they would rather die where they stood like men, than to be hanged like
dogs.
"You need not expect help from Afton or his men," said the resolute Coe,
addressing the pirates; "I have them all bound in the cabin."
"Mr Coe," said Bowsprit, who did not like to take a part in consigning
any of his old comrades to the gallows, "suppose we allow them to escape
to the _Falcon_?" That question was never answered. The reference made
by Bill Bowsprit to the brig caused most of the pirates, and the
boatswain among the number, to turn their faces towards the vessel.
What they saw determined them to immediate action. Most men come to a
resolution very speedily when a sudden emergency leaves them but a brief
time for doing so.
When the two cannon were fired by Captain Johnson and one of his mates
at the very moment when the pirates boarded the _Duchess_, the effect of
the rebound of the guns upon one vessel and of the striking of the shot
upon the other had a violent tendency to drive the ship and the brig
apart. The hold of the grappling-irons and other fastenings which kept
the two vessels together was therefore, much weakened by the shock. The
violent dashing against each other of the ship and the brig had not only
carried away a considerable part of the upper-works, but threatened, if
continued much longer, to dash in the very sides of the two vessels; of
course, this ceaseless motion tended to weaken more and more the bonds
which held the ship and the brig together.
At the very moment when the boatswain and others of the pirates looked
towards the brig, these fastenings gave way, and the two vessels were
about to part.
"Come, boys! quick!" cried the boatswain, rushing towards the guards of
the ship. He was immediately followed by all of his men who were left
alive, except the one who lay wounded upon the ship's deck. The next
instant they sprang from the broken guards of the _Duchess_ towards the
deck of the _Falcon_; in the confusion and hurry three of them missed
the leap, fell into the sea and were drowned. At the same time the
vessels parted.
When the boatswain gained the brig, he turned round to those whom he
left on the deck of the ship, shook his fist, and exclaimed, in a voice
that was heard above the sound of the wind and the sea:
"Look out for the Long Tom!"
"We should not have allowed them to escape," said John Coe to Captain
Johnson.
"It is better as it is," said the captain. "We have escaped from a fate
so terrible, that all minor perils are but as trifles in comparison. I
know not who you are, young gentleman; but your appearance and action
among us have been so wonderful that it almost seems as if you were an
angel sent from heaven to rescue us."
"You do me too much honour," said the young man. "But I will explain to
you everything when we have leisure. At present, there are the wounded
to be attended to."
"True," replied the captain. Then turning to his men, he added, "Bring
lights, some of you, and remove the wounded below."
By this time the vessels were some twenty yards apart.
"See!" exclaimed Billy Bowsprit, "they are loading the cannon on board
the _Falcon_."
Only dimly through the night shadows could the deck of the brig be seen;
for now the last vestige of daylight had departed.
Some of the men who belonged to the _Duchess_ were enabled to assist in
loading the two cannon; for Captain Johnson had expressed his
determination that, if a shot was fired from the pirate-brig, he would,
as before, return them two for one.
"The two shots which I fired at the moment of their boarding us," he
said to Coe, "made a good-sized hole in their hull just above the
water-mark; and they must have taken in considerable water through it,
during the tossing and pitching of the brig. I will make another hole
in their timbers if they fire at me again."
Even while he spoke a shot came from the _Falcon_. It was fired,
probably, by the skilful hand of Seacome; for it again carried away a
part of the guards. Fortunately, no one was injured.
Captain Johnson quickly responded with his two guns. His object was to
strike the enemy's hull, near where his last two shots had struck; and
he probably did so, for, in a few moments afterwards--by the light of
the lamps on board the _Falcon_--men were seen hurrying to and fro in
apparently great excitement. Loud tones were also heard, seemingly
giving orders.
All who were on the deck of the _Duchess_ stood still, listening and
watching.
"Your shot must have done them serious damage," said Coe, at length, to
Captain Johnson; "the excitement seems to increase."
"It seems to me," said Billy Bowsprit, who was watching things sharply,
"the _Falcon_ is settling in the water."
Upon the background of the sky, the spectators on board the _Duchess_
could see the masts of the brig slowly bend forward; still slowly for a
while they moved onward in the same direction, sinking, sinking from the
horizontal line in the sky which they had formerly touched; and then
their motion was gradually accelerated.
"See!" exclaimed Bowsprit, "her bows are going under, as sure as my name
is William."
That instant, a wild, despairing and mingled cry arose from the deck of
the _Falcon_; the next moment that gallant craft plunged head-foremost
into the sea and disappeared.
"God have mercy on their souls!" exclaimed Captain Johnson. "The best
among them can be but little prepared to enter the other world."
The captain of the _Duchess_ then ordered a thorough examination to be
made of the damage done to his ship. For many feet along the larboard
beam and larboard bow the guards were almost entirely torn away. From
the fact that the ship was also leaking, it was evident that the planks
had been started somewhat where the larboard side of the _Duchess_ had
been beaten against by the starboard of the _Falcon_; a single pump kept
regularly at work easily balanced the effects of this leak. A part of
this labour was performed by some of Billy Bowsprit's men, all of whom--
at the suggestion of Coe--reported themselves to Captain Johnson for
duty as a part of his crew.
Afton and three of his men who were unwounded were put in irons and
removed to safe keeping in the forward part of the ship; and the man
whose arm had been broken by Ada Marston's shot was placed with the rest
of the wounded in the sailor's quarters, where they were all made as
comfortable as circumstances would allow. After these tasks had been
attended to, Captain Johnson read the "funeral service at sea" over the
bodies of the dead, which, enshrouded and with weights attached to them,
were launched into the ocean. The decks were then scrubbed by the light
of lanterns, the watch set for the night, and all made secure.
These duties being performed, Captain Johnson, Coe, and Bowsprit went
down into the cabin, to look after the condition of things there. They
found Louise recovered from her swoon, but still very pale and nervous.
She sat beside the sofa, on which lay her father, very ill from the
shock of his recent terrible excitement. The quadroon girl was crouched
upon the floor at the feet of her mistress; she also was very pale, and
her eyes still had a wild and alarmed look. Ada, too, sat upon the
floor, at a little distance from the others, her head against the seat
of a chair, and her face hidden in her hands. She had been upon deck
and had seen the brig sink in the ocean. She had learned of her
husband's death; that she was weeping proved that she was a woman.
There was not much rest for Captain Johnson that night; the leaky
condition of his ship, and the still strong gale and high-rolling waves
kept him on the alert. Billy Bowsprit, who was a thorough seaman,
insisted upon watching with the captain. Coe was assigned a berth in
one of the state-rooms forward of the saloon. Knowing that he could be
of no farther use, he consented to retire for the night. Being much
fatigued, he soon fell asleep, in dreams to recall, in forms more or
less distorted, all the incidents of the day; yet amid all the scenes
which his memory presented to his imagination, bent over him the soft,
appealing eyes, the pale and beautiful face of Louise Durocher.