A Long Chase
The _Mirandola_ was towed out of the little harbour by maroons and
Indians in their canoes, and beat out to sea against a
nor'-nor'-easterly wind. Thanks to Ned Whiddon and his comrades the
bark was in capital trim, and the crew, now after many days free men
afloat, were at the top of cheerfulness and jollity. The long voyage
home had no terrors for them. They were all sturdy mariners,
accustomed to adventure their lives on the deep. They had hardly
weathered the headland to the east and stood away for the mouth of the
gulf before Hugh Curder began to troll a ditty:
"Lustily, lustily, let us sail forth;
The wind trim doth serve us, it blows from the north,
All things we have ready, and nothing we want,
To furnish our ship that rideth hereby;
Victuals and weapons they be nothing scant,
Like worthy mariners ourselves we will try.
Lustily, oh lustily!"
"Oh, 'tis good to hear to 'ee, Hugh!" cried Turnpenny. "And I do wish
we had a crowdy-kit aboard, for I mind me Tom Copstone can ply the bow,
and a merry tune would set our feet a-jog. To it again, Hugh; open
your thropple, man, and we'll bear our burden, every man of us."
And Hugh Curder, after "hawking and spitting," as he said, because his
"wynd-pipe" was "summat scrannied for want o' use," struck up again:
"Her flags be new trimmed, set flaunting aloft----"
"Not so," interrupted Ned Whiddon. "We bean't got no flags."
"Pegs! 'tis in the ditty, Ned," cried Turnpenny. "None but a
ninny-hammer would look for sober truth in a ditty. Heed him not,
Hugh; to it again."
"Her flags be new trimmed, set flaunting aloft,
Our ship for swift swimming, oh she doth excel;
We fear no enemies, we've escaped them oft;
Of all ships that swimmeth she beareth the bell.
Lustily, oh lustily.
"And here is a master excelleth in skill,
And our master's mate he is not to seek;
And here is a boatswain will do his good will,
And here is a ship-boy, we never had leak."
Lustily, oh lustily."
"You be the ship-boy, Hugh, seeing you be the youngest of us," said
Whiddon. "And you've a proper breast for a singing-boy."
"Now the last stanzo, Hugh," cried Turnpenny. "'If fortune then fail
not,'--but my scrimpy voice murders it. Sing up, man."
"If fortune then fail not, and our next voyage prove,
We will return merrily and make good cheer,
And hold all together as friends linked in love,
The cans shall be filled with wine, ale, and beer,
Lustily, oh lustily."
"'Tis not worth a crim," growled Jan Biddle, when the song was ended.
"'Wine, ale, and beer'--where is it? I'd give a week o' life for a
gallon o' home-brewed."
"Ay, and what then!" said Gabriel Batten. "Sing the song of ale, Hugh."
"Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold----"
"Nay, not that one; 'tis over long, and 'll make us too drouthy.
Seeing we have no ale, 't'ud be cruel to sing the praises of it so
feelingly. Nay, sing the ditty that serves for warning; 'twill better
fit our case."
Hugh Curder began:
"Ale makes many a man to make his head have knocks;
And ale makes many a man to sit in the stocks;
And ale makes many a man to hang upon the gallows--"
"Oh, shut his mouth!" cried Biddle testily. "We'll all be glumping if
we list to such trash. Hallo for the wind to change, for with this
nor'-easter blowing we'll never get clear of the coast."
The vessel was indeed making slow progress, beating out against the
strong wind. Dennis, though elected Captain, had little to do with the
actual handling of the ship: in those days the captain was not always a
navigator. But the _Mirandola_ was in good hands. Both Whiddon and
Batten were practised seamen, and in seamanship, as distinguished from
navigation, Turnpenny was incomparable. They had found in the cabin a
chart of the coast and the neighbouring sea, by means of which they
avoided the shoals and made without mishap towards the mouth of the
gulf. Dennis and Turnpenny examined the chart carefully to see if they
could distinguish the island they had named Maiden Isle. Several small
islands were marked on it as mere dots without names, and they could
not for a long time decide which of them was Maiden Isle; but Turnpenny
at last fixed on one of them, and his conjecture was proved to be
correct in the evening. Whiddon had set the course by Turnpenny's
suggestion, and just before dark the vessel skirted the south-eastern
corner of the island where he and Dennis had met so strangely.
Looking at the chart, Dennis wondered how the _Maid Marian_ had escaped
wrecking a dozen times during the hurricane that finally cast her up on
the western shore. There was marked a good open channel for vessels of
any draught south and south-east of the island, but, as he had guessed,
the sea to the north and west was practically unnavigable except by
small craft. The _Mirandola_ gave the island a wide berth in passing;
the wind was freshening, and there were signs of heavy weather. Dennis
felt a little regret at leaving the island unvisited, and abandoning
the relics of his friends which he had saved from the wreck; but, like
every member of his party, he was eager to lose sight of this hostile
coast, and to gain the wide ocean where, given good luck, they would be
secure from Spanish molestation and have nothing to fear but the
ordinary chances of a long voyage.
They made little headway that night. Anxious as they were to run out
of the main track of Spanish commerce, they felt the necessity of
choosing a safe rather than a short course, and especially of avoiding
the network of reefs and islands to leeward. In the blackest hours of
the night, indeed, they lay to, Turnpenny remarking that it was better
to lose a little time than to run the risk of losing the vessel by a
too bold navigation of unfamiliar seas.
This caution proved to be justified, for the wind shifted in the night;
and when at break of day the _Mirandola_ again got under way they found
that she had drifted dangerously near an island which, being very
small, was not marked on the chart. A light haze lay over the sea, but
it lifted soon, and then vast excitement was aroused on board when the
look-out shouted that he descried, under the lee of the island, a
vessel under full sail. Turnpenny took a long look at her, and
declared that she was a bark somewhat larger than the Mirandola, though
at the distance--near four miles, he thought--it was impossible to be
sure.
"Of what nation is she?" asked Dennis.
"No mortal man could say," returned Amos; "but 'tis a hundred to one
she be a Spaniard, and we must either fight or run."
"Think you she will see us, being so small a vessel?"
"None can tell that either. We must look to the worst. True, we have
the weather-gage of her; but soon or late she will overhaul us if she
gives chase. She has a look of speed, or I be no mariner. 'Tis
certain we cannot fight her; our armament will not suffice;
furthermore, from her size I reckon her crew be three or four times
ours, and our men have no mind to be captured and cast again into a
Spanish dungeon."
"We must e'en run then," said Dennis with a sigh. "That means we must
put about?"
"True, and 'tis somewhat in our favour, for you perceive the wind has
shifted in the night to west-sou'-west, and belike we can sail
close-hauled better than she can."
Whiddon accordingly put the vessel about, and set the course so that
she could keep the island between herself and the stranger. But in the
course of the next hour it was clear that the _Mirandola_ had not
escaped notice. The stranger had weathered the island and was
manifestly standing in pursuit. The crew of the _Mirandola_ watched
her anxiously. They were but twenty-two all told, five of them being
French: and although they were all stout mariners with no lack of
native courage, the remembrance of their past sufferings did not
incline them to run risks. For some time it was doubtful whether the
pursuing vessel was or was not gaining; but as the day wore on it
became clear that the _Mirandola_ was being outsailed.
"'Tis a piece of rare good luck we had the wind against us last night,"
said Turnpenny, "for in a straight chase in the open we should have no
chance against the critter, whereas if we get back among these islands
we may give her the slip."
"If we do not strike a reef and founder," replied Dennis.
Here Turnpenny tried a device that he had often seen practised on the
_Anne Gallant_. He ordered two men to go up to the cross-trees with a
pulley-block; they rove a line through, and, hoisting up buckets of
water, saturated all the canvas. Then he put all the men on to the lee
braces, and so got the vessel to lie a point nearer the wind.
The two manoeuvres considerably increased her speed, but in spite of
all that seamanship could do or devise the gap between the vessels
sensibly diminished; the pursuer loomed ever larger down to leeward.
Then Jan Biddle began to show himself in his true colours. Dennis had
noticed that the man had attached to himself a group of the wilder
spirits among the crew, who with an ill grace went about the duties
assigned to them by Whiddon, and upon whom, indeed, the mate called as
seldom as possible. When it became clear that the _Mirandola_ was
being surely overhauled, these men were observed in close talk beneath
the break of the poop. By and by Biddle swaggered forward, followed by
seven or eight of his comrades, to where Whiddon and Turnpenny stood,
forward of the mainmast. Batten was at the helm.
"Art mad, Ned Whiddon?" cried Biddle in a hectoring tone. "Dost think
thou'rt a mariner? Crymaces! if we trust to thee we'll be laid by the
heels in the hold of yonder craft ere night."
"Couldst do better, think 'ee?" asked Whiddon quietly.
"Better? Who but a slin-pole would have done as 'ee have done?
There's but one way to scape out of the clutches of the Spaniards, and
that is to put the helm down, come about, and run for it. This craft
is better running free than close-hauled."
"Know a fool by his folly," said Turnpenny. "Rule your saucy tongue,
Jan Biddle, and offer not to teach your betters."
"Who be you to talk of betters, Amos Turnpenny--a sluddering rampallian
like you? An you will take no counsel we'll e'en see to the manage of
the vessel ourselves. Here, comrades, this be enough of these joulter
heads; let go the sheets; I will put the helm down and we'll go round
on the other tack: we'll have no fools over us, to bring us to harm."
But before one of the malcontents could step forward to do his bidding,
Turnpenny threw his arms around Biddle, lifted him clean off his feet,
and flung him against the bulwarks, where he lay stunned.
"And I'll serve any man likewise that dares to raise his voice in
mutiny. Get about, you villains, and 'ware lest you be clapped in
irons and set awash in the bilge."
Dennis had hastened to Turnpenny's side at the first sign of
altercation.
"When the chase is over we will deal with these fellows," he said
quietly. "Meanwhile, Amos, is not that our Maiden Isle on the lewside
ahead?"
"Surely it is, sir."
"Think you not 'twould serve us best to run in among the reefs
thereabouts? The bark could not follow us."
"True, but we might strike and run aground any moment, and lose our
vessel and our lives withal."
"Ay, but we are being surely overhauled, and meseems 'twere better to
take the risk of running aground than to fall into the hands of the
Spaniards. There is a chance of our threading a way through, whereas
the stranger, being of greater draught, would not venture her bottom
among these uncharted shoals."
"Verily 'tis a wise thought--if there be time. What think 'ee, Ned?
Yonder, mark 'ee, is the isle whereon Master Hazelrig and I lived
secure for a matter of weeks, with food in plenty. Think 'ee there be
time to make the shallows afore the Spaniard comes within shot of us?"
"Ay, there be time enough, but I fear me we should wreck our craft."
"There be no other way, Ned. And I warrant me I could make a shift to
steer a safe course inshore, because 'twas on the south side of the
isle we landed from the timber ship, and there, i' fecks, be her
masts--see, Ned, standing out a little above the sea."
"Then do 'ee take the helm, Haymoss, and God save us all."
Clearly the course of the _Mirandola_ was being closely watched on the
pursuing vessel, for when, tacking in obedience to the helm, she made
direct for the south of the island, there came a puff of smoke from the
side of the bark, and a shot plumped into the sea about two
cable-lengths astern.
"'Twas over hurrisome, master don," said Turnpenny with a chuckle; "and
call me a Dutchman if 'ee ever get to closer range."
He ran the little vessel cleverly inshore and steered past the wreck of
the timber ship. Then it occurred to Dennis that there must be a
practicable channel not far to the west, or the _Maid Marian_ would
have gone aground in the hurricane long before she did. At his
suggestion the _Mirandola_ was kept on her course for half a mile
beyond the southernmost point of the island. Then, as there was no
time to take soundings, she was put before the wind, with the object of
gaining the north of the island, where Dennis knew that if the pursuer
drew as much water as from her size seemed likely, there was little
chance of her being able to follow.
The confident bearing of Dennis and Turnpenny had a cheering influence
on the crew. Even Jan Biddle, who had now recovered from his blow, and
his cronies seemed no longer inclined to quarrel with the handling of
the vessel. The pursuer was now out of sight, hidden by the bend of
the shore. The _Mirandola_ was making excellent sailing before the
wind, and Dennis hoped that if she could elude the Spaniard until dark,
there might be a good chance of her escaping any further attentions.
The pursuer came in sight again just as the _Mirandola_ was approaching
the rocky ridge which had been a barrier to Dennis's exploration of the
shore on his first day on the island. He was rejoiced to see that in
wearing she had lost a little. Then a sudden idea struck him. Beyond
the ridge was the entrance to the gully, and up the gully the broad
pool in which the _Maid Marian_ lay. Would not the best course after
all be to play a trick on the pursuer? Why not try to run into the
pool? When the _Mirandola_ had once rounded the shoulder of the cliff
she would again be almost out of sight; if she could run into the gully
the pursuers would almost certainly suppose that she had fled round the
northern side of the island; and safe in the pool, she might lie there
until the chase had been given up. He mentioned his idea to Amos.
"Be jowned if it bean't a right merry notion," cried the mariner.
But none knew better the difficulty of steering the vessel safely into
the gully. There was no time for consideration. If once she passed
the entrance the vessel could not beat back again before the pursuer
came within range. The slightest failure in Turnpenny's seamanship
would run the bark on the rocks. But the old mariner knew the gully.
With set lips and a deep indentation between his brows he stood at the
helm and gave his orders to the men.
"Stand by the halliards," he cried, "and let go the moment I say the
word."
It was important to have plenty of way on the vessel, for the instant
she came to the headland the wind would be taken out of her canvas.
Easing the helm gently over, Turnpenny called to the men to let go as
the ship rounded the point; in a few moments the canvas was all taken
in, and with the way on her she glided up the gully.
Within ten minutes from the time when the notion first occurred to
Dennis the _Mirandola_ lay side by side with the wreck of the _Maid
Marian_ in the pool, invisible from the open sea.
"Mum's the word," said Turnpenny when the anchor had been dropped.
"Muzzle your jaws for a while. Master Hazelrig and me we knows this
island, and we'll mount the cliff yonder and see what the don Spaniard
makes of us now."
Leaving the men to swim ashore if they chose, Dennis and Turnpenny
sprang overboard, soon found their footing, and scrambled up the rocks
and the cliff, keeping well under cover. When they reached the top
they saw the pursuer about three miles distant. She had shortened
sail, and was evidently inclined to give the coast a wider berth than
the _Mirandola_ had done. It was growing dusk when she came level with
the gully, standing about a mile from the shore. Her movements for a
time were erratic; clearly the people on board distrusted the waters
round the island, and were somewhat perplexed as to the course taken by
the fugitive. At length they decided apparently to abandon the
pursuit, for she stood to windward, and the two watchers breathed again.