Jan Biddle, Master
"God be praised!" said Turnpenny, fervently; "we have escaped out of
the hands of the enemy."
"And we find ourselves once more on Maiden Isle, the which I never
thought to set foot on more. I am glad of it, Amos, for now that we
have a bark fit to carry us over the sea, I would fain take with us
certain things that belonged to my dear comrades. They will be
cherished by their sorrowing folks at home."
"True, the sight of such belongings of the dead and gone do have a
morsel of comfort in it. And moreover we can take some of your stores,
for though our own monkey ship be not ill provided, yet the victuals be
Spanish, and 'twill make new men of our comrades to give 'em a rasher
of bacon now and again."
"Ay, but why monkey ship, Amos?"
"Why, sir, I cannot put my tongue to the name your fancy gave the
vessel, and to my thinking it is not to compare with _Anne Gallant_,
and _Jesus_, and _Minion_, and other craft I have served aboard, to say
nothing of the _Susans_ and _Bettys_ that are well beknown in Plimworth
Sound."
"Well, have your way. To my ears _Mirandola_ hath a pleasant sound,
and it will always keep me in mind of my good friend. But 'tis time we
returned to our comrades."
When they reached the entrance of the chine they found that the crew
had all come ashore, save one or two who were curiously examining the
wreck of the _Maid Marian_. They could not refrain from shouting a
glad "Huzza!" when they learnt that the pursuing vessel was standing
away. Jan Biddle and one of his cronies had been rummaging in Dennis's
hut and sheds, finding little to reward them, however, almost
everything having been transferred to Skeleton Cave. Night was drawing
on apace, and though some of the crew were for setting sail in the
darkness, the majority agreed with Dennis that it would be better to
defer their departure until the following night. This plan would give
them a whole day's rest; it would render it less likely that the
pursuer would be still in the neighbourhood; and it would enable them
to carry more water on board, which was desirable in view of the
possibility of a protracted voyage. Dennis and Amos decided to occupy
their old hut; the men were given their choice of the sheds, now all
but empty, and the huts erected by the maroons near the logwood grove.
They all declared for sleeping ashore rather than on board ship, Hugh
Curder and Gabriel Batten, however, volunteering to remain on deck as a
night watch.
Next day, after the stores and things which Dennis wished to take home
had been transferred from the cave to the vessel, and several barrels
of fresh water from the spring in the cliff had been placed in her
hold, the men broke up into little groups and wandered about the
island, revelling in their liberty and in the abundance of fruit which
they could have for the picking. Several times Dennis went to the
cliff top on one side and Amos on the other side of the island to scan
the horizon for a sail, but neither saw any sign of one. In the
afternoon Dennis ventured to sound Sir Martin's trumpet as a signal of
recall, and the men came dropping back in ones and twos and threes in
anticipation of departure.
The tide was at flood, and Dennis had just given the order to go
aboard, when Tom Copstone suddenly exclaimed--
"Zuggers! Where be Gabriel Batten?"
"Is he not here?" asked Dennis.
"Not the ghost of him," said Amos, looking round on the company.
"He were always a ninny-hammer," cried Jan Biddle angrily. "Never did
I know such a man for simples and other trash. Sure he be roaming
somewheres with his nose to the ground, trying to smell out some herb
that will heal a scratch or cure a distemper."
"Blow up the trumpet for en," suggested Copstone; "Gabr'el be a vitty
lad--none the worse for not being made so rampageous as 'ee, Jan
Biddle, for all he do go wool-gathering at whiles."
Biddle glared at the speaker, but said no more. Hugh Curder, being the
man with the brazen lungs, blew a loud blast on the trumpet which set
the cliffs and the chine reverberating. They waited; the wanderer must
have gone far indeed if he was out of earshot of that strident blare.
But as time went on, and he did not appear, Dennis began to be somewhat
vexed.
"'Twas thoughtless of the man," he said; "already is the tide beginning
to ebb, in two hours it will be impossible to embark this night, and
that entails upon us the loss of another day."
"Embark without him," growled Biddle. "What is he that he should keep
a score of good men waiting his pleasure?"
"Nay, nay," said Dennis. "We cannot leave him here. You have had your
sufferings and sorrows, from the like of which God save us all; but is
there a man of you that hath dwelt alone upon an island, spending
nights and days without the sight of a face, or the sound of a voice?
That have I done, and not willingly shall I subject a man to a like
solitude. There is still a little space during which the tide will
serve. Let us scatter in parties, some going this way, some that, and
halloo; perchance some of us may light on our comrade."
The suggestion was adopted; only Jan Biddle and his few particular
friends went about the search grudgingly. But though the men scoured
the island from shore to shore, and kept up the quest to the very verge
of nightfall, long after the tide had run so low that the idea of
setting sail till next day had to be abandoned, they discovered no
trace of the straggler, and returned weary and irritable when the
trumpet recalled them.
"He may come in by and by," said Dennis cheerfully. "If not we must
e'en take up the search in the morning. We shall have a whole day
wherein to pursue it. Let us now get our supper and commend ourselves
and our comrades to God."
"Odspitikins!" cried Jan Biddle. "What did I say! What a captain is
this! Here be we, twenty-one souls, raped up here for one slummaking
micher not worth a varden."
"My heart!" shouted Amos, "you were best keep a still tongue in your
noddle, Jan Biddle, or with the captain's leave I'll clap 'ee in irons
the instant we go aboard, and keep 'ee under hatches for a sluddering
mutineer--ay, and larrap 'ee first, I warrant 'ee."
Biddle's experience of the strength of Turnpenny's arm did not
encourage him to repeat his protest; but when the supper was spread on
the rocks above the pool, he carried off his portion to a place apart,
and nursed his wrath among a small group of his comrades who followed
him. The malcontents numbered eight in all, and four of these were
Frenchmen, with whom Biddle could converse freely in their own tongue.
Again they slept ashore, except the two who had been selected to keep
watch on the vessel. The precaution seemed hardly necessary, for it
was unlikely that a hostile ship would appear in the night; but
Turnpenny had suggested that it was well to keep up the customs
observed at sea. The men chosen for this night's watch were two steady
fellows named William Hawk and Luke Fenton.
Dennis lay awake for some time, talking with Amos about the missing
man. Though he had maintained a cheerful composure before the crew, he
was in reality not a little vexed at the delay caused by the
thoughtlessness of Gabriel Batten.
"Is it true, what Biddle said," he asked, "about Batten's madness for
gathering simples?"
"Ay, 'tis true. He be a vitty lad, as Tom Copstone said, and a good
seaman, quiet withal; but he has a maggot, and 'tis that, without a
doubt, that has led him aroaming. There be a time for everything, and
though I do not deny that Gabriel's skill in simples has ofttimes
served us well, 'tis not to be wondered at that the men make a pucker
about it."
"Well, we must find him to-morrow. We cannot sail away without him;
why, there is not even a Mirandola here now to bear him company."
"Be jowned if I don't ballirag en to-morrow for his hanticks,
od-rat-en!"
Dennis passed a restless night, waking often, to wonder what had become
of the wanderer. He resolved to set out himself as soon as dawn broke,
and take advantage of his knowledge of the island to search thoroughly.
Finding himself unable to sleep again, he got up while the chine was
still in darkness, and walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the
pool. In the gloom he could just see the dark form of the _Maid
Marian_; but then he started, rubbed his eyes, looked again, and felt a
shock of amazement when he realized that the other vessel was no longer
there. Next moment it flashed upon him that she must have dragged her
moorings and floated away on the very last of the ebb-tide, and the
fact that no alarm had been given seemed to show that the watchers had
fallen asleep, overcome by the sweltering heat of the tropical night.
Calling to Amos, he set off at full speed down the cliff towards the
opening of the gully, narrowly escaping a serious fall in the darkness.
He was much relieved to see, on rounding the shoulder of the cliff, the
dark hull of the vessel in front of him. The tide was so low that it
was marvellous she had floated so far without grounding, and the
thought that she might strike a reef and cause further delay while
repairs were made prompted a vigorous shout, to waken the neglectful
watch ere it was too late. But there came no answering hail from the
vessel; and fearing that, even if she did not run aground, the men on
board might not have sufficient seamanship to bring her back in safety,
he dived into the water and struck out in her wake.
As he did so, he heard footsteps behind him, two or three voices, and
the sound of another splash. Evidently some one had followed him. The
_Mirandola_ was moving very slowly; the motion of the tide was indeed
almost imperceptible, and Dennis, being a good swimmer, soon came under
her counter. Catching hold, by a happy chance as he thought, of a rope
that had formed her mooring cable, he swarmed hand over hand up the
side and on to the deck. But no sooner had his feet touched the planks
than two figures sprang towards him, a blanket was thrown over his
head, and before he could utter a sound he was flung down, gagged, and
pinioned.
Even through the thick folds of the blanket Dennis was able to hear a
great scuffling on board within a few seconds of his own discomfiture.
Then all was still, except for the muffled tones of his captors'
voices. He could not hear what they said, but it was not long before
he knew from the greater motion of the vessel that they must have
hoisted sail. Not for a moment did he doubt the meaning of it all.
Who but Jan Biddle and his fellow malcontents would have had the daring
to run off with the vessel? The man was a ruffian in looks, and Dennis
had already had several evidences of his turbulent spirit. And, lying
helpless and half smothered on the deck, he did not have to seek far
for the motive of the act. It was not merely chagrin at being denied a
rank; the man knew that there were pearls in the hold, a valuable
treasure, and his treachery was prompted by cupidity. He had supposed,
Dennis suspected, that as a simple mariner among the crew he would get
but a small portion of the treasure when it should be divided, and
persuaded some of the men to make this attempt to secure the whole.
Angry as he was, Dennis could not withhold a certain admiration for the
man's daring; and then he fell a-wondering why he had not been struck
on the head and killed outright; a ruffian like Biddle would hardly
have spared him from any feeling of compunction.
How long Dennis lay half stifled under the blanket he could not tell.
Hours seemed to have passed when it was at last removed, and he could
breathe freely. And there, beside him, lay Amos Turnpenny, gagged like
himself. Jan Biddle and several of his comrades stood over them,
grinning with malicious triumph.
"Pegs, Captain," said the man, "you do seem betoatled. Thought the
vessel had broke a-loose, I reckon. And so she had--eh, comrades?"
"Ho! ho!" laughed the men, vastly appreciating their leader's joke.
"Now, we be eight, young master captain,--stout fellows, but a small
crew for this vessel. You be in our power, you and Haymoss too, for
all he be a rare fustilugs; and down a-hold lie Bill Hawk and Luke
Fenton, that kept but a ninny-watch, to be sure. Wherefore we be
twelve all told, enough for the manage of this craft. Haymoss will not
be boatswain, to be sure, nor you captain; I be captain; boatswain is
French Michel yonder; but 'ee can take your choice,--help to work this
vessel, or walk the plank. Now I will loose your gags, and you and
Haymoss can talk the matter out, and when ye've made up your minds
we'll unbind 'ee, or tumble 'ee overboard, according."
Left to themselves, Dennis and Turnpenny were not long in deciding on
their course of action. They were at present outnumbered; they had to
accept the inevitable. Their assistance would be very valuable in the
working of the vessel, and Biddle, in spite of his assured bearing, was
by no means so confident in his seamanship and skill as he tried to
make himself appear. After his treacherous conduct he had no reason to
suppose that Turnpenny would lift a finger to make good his
deficiencies; on the other hand it was not to the interest of the
prisoners that the ship should come to grief through mishandling, and
Biddle knew that in extremity Turnpenny's instinct of seamanship would
forbid him to hold aloof.
But while Dennis and the mariner agreed that they had no choice but to
accept the position with what grace they might, they resolved to bide
their time for getting the vessel again under their control and
returning to the island.
"My poor comrades and me be parted again," said Amos, with a sigh.
"'Tis true it will not be so bad for them upon the island as 'twas for
us. But there they be, and there they must bide until we can fetch 'em
off."
"And mayhap the Spaniards will land before we can get back to them, and
then God help the poor fellows. There is little chance we two can
overpower these eight villains; we can but hope on."
Having acquainted Biddle with their decision, they were cast loose, and
sat beneath the break of the poop watching their captors' attempts at
navigation. The vessel had rounded the easternmost point of the island
and was running before a south-south-westerly wind. But it made little
progress; as the day wore on the breeze died away, and the island was
still in sight as the sun gradually sank in the western sky. The
mutineers cast somewhat anxious glances around, as if fearing that the
comrades they had betrayed might even now find some means of following
them. But as the island gradually faded into the dusk their spirits
rose, and having broached one of the few jars of wine which had been
left in the cabin, they began to boast of the success of their trick.
Biddle even acquainted the prisoners with the manner in which it had
been carried out. In the darkness they had surprised the watch on
board, and cut the cable mooring the vessel to a tree at the side of
the gully; then seven of them had lowered the jolly-boat and in it
towed the ship past the shoulder of the cliff until the sails caught
the wind and it was carried free of the shore. He told Dennis
exultantly that if he had swum out three or four minutes earlier the
plot would have been defeated, for only he was then on board, at the
helm. But just before Dennis scrambled on board the others had
clambered up by the fore chains, and his cry and plunge having been
heard, there had been time to arrange for his reception.
The crescent moon, which had somewhat favoured the attack on the fort,
had now increased in size, and threw a thin silvery light upon the sea.
Biddle, among a little group of his comrades, was still recounting his
achievement for the benefit of Dennis and Turnpenny when the look-out
shouted that he spied a vessel to windward.
"What care I for a vessel to windward!" cried the man. "We'll give her
the slip in the dark. I, Jan Biddle, be captain now; ay, what did Hugh
Curder sing t'other day?
Here is a master excelleth in skill,
And our master's mate he is not to seek.
That be Dick Rackstraw, Haymoss, a merry soul, not a glumping galliment
like 'ee.
And here is a boatswain will do his good will----
not you, Haymoss; you be boatswain no longer; 'tis French Michel, a
deal better man.
And here is a ship-boy----
why, hang me if we won't make a ship-boy of our noble captain,
comrades. 'Tis a stripling, to be sure, and I warrant will be none the
worse for a smitch o' tar on his fingers. Ees, we'll make him
ship-boy, we will so. Ho! ho!
And here is a ship-boy----"
But his mirth and the gleeful shouts of the others were suddenly
checked when the look-out cried that he saw a second, and then a third
vessel. Biddle sprang up with an oath and ran to the taffrail. What
he saw did not lessen his alarm. The three strangers were coming up on
a broad front, half a mile between them. They were evidently bringing
a freshening breeze with them, for they had not been visible when
darkness first fell. It was clear to a mariner's eye that the bark
would have to show her best sailing powers if she was to escape. She
had been sailing under foresail and mainsail only, but now in frantic
haste the crew, in obedience to Biddle's orders, set the topsails and
the topgallants. But before the effect of this was apparent the
approaching ships had crept up within gun range. It was not long in
doubt whether they had seen the _Mirandola_, and were making straight
for her. A flash was seen from the bows of one of the vessels; a few
seconds afterwards a muffled roar was heard.
"Blank charge!" said Turnpenny to Dennis. "'Tis a word of warning."
Biddle only shouted a defiant curse. The bark was now feeling the full
force of the wind, and was making good headway. It appeared likely
that, running before the wind, she could hold her own with the
strangers. A minute later another gun was fired, and this time with no
harmless intent, for there was a great splash in the water a little
ahead of the _Mirandola_ on the starboard side. After a short
interval, a third discharge shook the air, and the mutineers raised an
exultant shout when they saw the splash some distance astern. It was
clear that, if the guns had been fired with the same elevation, the
chase was drawing away. The dropping of a fourth and fifth shot still
farther astern left no room for doubt.
"What say you now, master boatswain as was!" cried Biddle,
triumphantly. "Bean't Jan Biddle as good a mariner as Haymoss
Turnpenny?
Here be a master excelleth in skill."
"My heart! it be a true saying, don't halloo till 'ee be out o' the
wood," said Amos, grimly.
"Zuggers! but you be a molkit, Haymoss, a molly-caudle to be sure. Go
aft, Haymoss, and cuddle the ship-boy and say your prayers."
Turnpenny raised his arm to strike the insolent fellow, but Dennis
whispered him to let it pass; there was nothing to be gained by a fight
at the present moment, even supposing they prevailed against the odds.
Hour after hour the chase continued. The moon went down, but still the
three vessels could be seen in the dim starlight. Clearly the
_Mirandola_, good sailor as she was, could not shake them off. Biddle
ceased to boast; his blustering confidence was changing to dismay, for
he now perceived that though he had drawn further and further away from
the vessel that had fired, her consort to windward was becoming more
clearly visible. He had not reckoned on so obstinate a chase;
moreover, being unable to read a chart, he had no idea whither the
vessel was heading. There was no chance of doubling. To alter the
course would be to lose time, and allow the persistent pursuer to make
up on her. She seemed indeed to be gradually decreasing the distance
between them, though the other two were out of sight.
So the chase went on through the hours of darkness, and daybreak showed
two vessels far astern, but the third without doubt creeping up slowly
but surely. Biddle, weary with the long night's work, was in a sullen
rage; the other men watched the pursuer with undisguised terror; Dennis
and Turnpenny, holding themselves aloof, looked on with curiosity and
something of amusement.
"Jan Biddle be no fool," said Turnpenny once. "I could not have
handled the craft better myself. But 'tis not an end."
Then, when the spirits of the crew were depressed to the lowest, an
early morning mist settled down upon the sea, blotting the pursuer from
sight.
"Jaykle! 'tis a mercy!" cried Biddle, rousing himself.
He instantly changed the course of the vessel.
"We'll fool them this mizzly morn," he said. "Mum's the word now,
comrades."
Dead silence was maintained on board, and for some hours the bark made
steady headway through the mist. Dennis could not but admire the
mutineer's fine recklessness. Without any sure knowledge of his
bearings he held the vessel steadily to the wind, though she might at
any moment strike a coral reef or even run aground on one of the
innumerable islets that studded the gulf. He was bent only on escaping
the dreaded grip of the Spaniards.
At length the fog began to clear, dissipated by the increasing heat of
the mounting sun. The crew strained their eyes through the eddying
mist, to assure themselves that the pursuer, as they hoped, had been
deluded by the change of course. But they were appalled, and looked
from one to another with a gasp of dismay, when they saw, less than
half a league distant, a large Spanish galleon holding exactly the same
course as themselves. Far down on the southern horizon another sail
could be seen.
"What I'd have done myself," said Turnpenny to Dennis. "The Spanish
skipper be no fool neither. When the mist came down he guessed the
manoeuvres of Master Jan, and afore he was closed in by it he had time
to signal the others to make off, one east, t'other sou'east, while he
held on the same course, thereby making sure that we'd still be in
sight of one or other of 'em when the mist lifted. Ah! lookeedesee,
sir; there's a flag a-running up the galleon's forepeak. 'Tis a signal
to the others to come and join the chase. Be jowned if Jan Biddle
han't got to run the race all over again!"