It would be hard to describe the disorder and terror aboard the _Arrow_
when the convicts realized their mistake.
Benson roared and raved like a madman, and I expected him to vent his
anger upon Brown and myself at any moment for having deceived him. But
he evidently believed that I was as much astonished as himself at the
identity of the stranger. Not being a sailor-man, he did not understand
the language of spars and canvas, and had no reason to think that my
eyes were any better than his own.
At all events, even if he did intend to settle with me afterward, he now
saw that his own life and the lives of his men depended on my being able
to run the clipper clear of the English guns.
The Black Roger was pulled down quicker than it takes to tell of it,
and the American ensign run up in its place. But it was now too late to
correct the error.
The stranger luffed sharply, and soon her main and mizzen yards swung
quickly and evenly with the man-o’-war’s precision. Then, letting go his
bow-line, he came about and stood across our hawse; at the same time
clapping on and sheeting home every rag possible below and aloft.
We were a little to windward of his course now, but he was well ahead. I
saw that when he tacked ship it would only be a question of minutes
before we were right under his guns, unless we wore ship instantly and
ran for it. Even then he would probably be close enough to knock the
spars out of us before we could get out of range.
He was evidently determined to find out the meaning of that joke about
the flying of a black flag on the high seas.
“Shall we turn and run, or try and pass him to the windward?” I asked
Benson, hurriedly, intimating that the former was what I should choose,
for I knew he would choose the opposite.
“Head your course, d----n you! If you fail to clear him, you are a dead
man,” he roared.
The villain didn’t notice the smile I felt on my lips when he said this,
or he would probably have finished with me then and there. He must have
been much upset to have talked so wild, for he was usually cool enough.
“Get the men below in the fore-hold,” he bawled to his man, Johnson, and
that fellow bundled them down the fore-hatch like sheep, leaving only
about a dozen to lounge about the deck as if they were sailors.
By the time this was accomplished we had closed the gap between the
vessels to less than half a mile. The Englishman was on the starboard
tack and crossing our course with everything drawing. He was heeling
over and driving through a perfect smother of foam, and I could see the
men running about the decks as they went to stations for stays. He had
gotten the weather-gage of us without difficulty.
In a few moments he luffed again on our weather-bow about a quarter of a
mile distant. Then, without waiting to use signals, he fired a shot
across our course just under our jib-boom end.
“He wants us to heave to,” I said to Benson, for it was evident that the
gunboat was not going to be overnice about signalling to men who joked
with their colours. Benson ordered me to dip the stars and stripes, but
hold steadily on our course. As we came abreast, the stranger came about
and lay right on our weather beam with his mainyards aback. I could see
that he intended to board us. A second puff flew from an after gun, and
with the report a shot tore a great hole through our foresail and
whistled away to starboard, but Benson still held on.
I saw great beads of perspiration roll down Brown’s face as he stood
watching us driving through the gunboat’s lee. It was a trying moment.
If the Englishman fired a broadside into an American ship flying the
ensign, it would be no joke for him if all was as it should be on board
of her. On the other hand, there was much to justify him in overhauling
a ship that had altered her course and set a black flag on sighting him,
even if her name was on his register. It seemed an age to me as I stood
there, hoping against hope, and I was thinking quickly and coolly of
some way to check the ship should she drive past. I knew that if we once
went through the Englishman’s lee he would let us pass, so I made ready
for the end.
It was not long coming.
We were now but fifty fathoms from the stranger’s broadside, and I could
see the men at the guns. I thought to hail him, but I saw that at the
first word I would be knocked on the head.
Suddenly a man appeared on the gunboat’s rail with a speaking-trumpet.
“What ship is that?” he bawled, though he might have read the name
easily enough, as it was painted on either quarter in letters a foot
deep.
“American ship _Arrow_, Captain Crojack!” roared Benson in return, as he
sprang on to the rail at the mizzen.
“Heave to and I’ll send a boat,” came the hail.
“I will not,” roared Benson.
“I will fire on you if you don’t,” replied the stranger.
“I dare you,” roared Benson, in his most menacing tone. There was never
anything like it. That man’s coolness and nerve would have made him an
admiral had he not been a villain. He had a truculent way of talking
that made people think twice before acting against him.
The Englishman hesitated at his audacity, and the ship, driving along
with every rag a rap-full, went through the gunboat’s lee. I then saw
that we would be allowed to pass free, and I knew that the time for
action had come. As Benson turned to jump down from the poop-rail on to
the deck I was in front of him, and he saw the look in my
[Illustration: “I FORCED HIM BACKWARDS TO THE POOP-RAIL.”]
eye that told him plainly what I meant to do. Quick as lightning he drew
his revolver and fired slap into me and then sprang to the deck. I felt
the numbing stroke of the lead, but felt no pain, and the next instant
we had closed.
I seized his weapon by the barrel as he fired again, and, although the
bullet cut my wrist, it did not loosen or weaken my hold. Then I drove
my knife into him with such force that the blade broke close off at the
haft.
Dropping the useless hilt, I gripped him suddenly with both arms about
his body, holding his arms to his sides. Then, exerting all my strength,
I forced him backwards to the poop-rail. He brought up against it for an
instant and wrenched his pistol hand free. Then I hurled him over the
side. He clutched frantically at me, but I tore his grip loose, and he
fell with a splash into the sea.
Glancing forward, I saw Johnson and a couple of men coming aft at full
speed to their leader’s help. Then I saw Brown spring suddenly from
behind the mizzen, knock the foremost ruffian headlong into the lee
scuppers by a blow from an iron belaying-pin, and close with the rest.
Without stopping an instant to see the outcome of the affair, I dashed
for the wheel.
The man there had seen the struggle on the poop, and he met me with
drawn knife. But I struck him fairly with my right fist upon the point
of the jaw, and he dropped like a log of wood.
Grabbing the spokes, I whirled the wheel over, and then plunged down the
companionway into the after cabin. I heard a rush of feet on the deck
overhead and the sharp cries of Brown, mingled with the hoarse oaths of
frantic men. Then I drove full speed against the door of Crojack’s
stateroom and crashed into the space within.
That poor, dear girl was--but no matter, there are some parts of every
affair that are nobody’s business. In a second I had her in my arms and
was leaping up that companionway, while the cries and oaths of the
scuffle drew farther aft.
As I cleared the hatchway I saw the quarter-deck free ahead of me, and,
giving a yell to Brown to follow, I plunged headlong over the taffrail
into the sea. When I reached the surface with the girl in my arms, I
turned to look back. I saw Brown hurl his belaying-pin into the crowd
that had followed him aft, and as they chased him to the side he leaped
over the rail on to the deck-strake. Then, running rapidly along the
narrow projection on the vessel’s side, he threw up his hands and took a
flying dive astern. When he came to the surface he was over one hundred
feet from his pursuers, and the ship was still forging ahead from her
headway, although her canvas was all back and everything in a mess
aloft.
With a few strokes Brown reached me, and together we held the girl
afloat and struck out for the English ship.
Those on board the gunboat had seen something of the fracas, and, as
soon as they saw the _Arrow_ luff, they started to get out their boats
as fast as willing hands could hoist them.
I swam easily, but I soon found that I was getting very faint, and that
my breath seemed to burn like a flame in my throat and chest. I tried to
tell Brown that I was going, but I could not utter a word. I remember
seeing a boat approaching swiftly, and I remember noticing the even
sweep of the oars until they appeared to row over my head and thunder
past my ears. The noise was deafening, and my brain felt as if it were
splitting with the roar. I put my hand to my head, felt something near
it--awoke and found myself lying in a bunk on board of a strange ship.
Then a soft hand brushed soothingly over my temples as gently as the
breath of the trade-wind. A sweet voice whispered in my ear to lie
quiet, and it made me feel so well that, in my upset state, I began to
believe that I had at last cruised into the port of missing ships. I
soon found, however, that I was not so badly wounded as I had reason to
suppose, and that Brown was aboard there with me, his wounded leg doing
well in spite of the twitching it received in that last rally.