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Transcriber's note:
A Table of Contents and List of Illustrations have been added.
Text in italics is enclosed by _underscores_.
Text in bold face is enclosed by =equal signs=.
Specific changes to the text are listed at the end of the book.
CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE "CENTIPEDE."
A Pirate of Eminence in the West Indies:
His Loves and Exploits,
Together with Some Account of the Singular Manner
by Which He Departed This Life.
by
HARRY GRINGO,
(H. A. WISE, U.S.N.),
Author of "Los Gringos," "Tales for the Marines," and
"Scampavias."
"Our God and sailors we alike adore,
In time of danger--not before;
The danger passed, both are alike requited:
God is forgotten, and the sailor slighted."
With Illustrations.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN BRAND.]
New York:
Harper & Brothers, Publishers,
Franklin Square.
1864.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand
eight hundred and sixty-four, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District
of New York.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
Part I
I. Spreading the Strands 5
II. Calm 7
III. High Noon 15
IV. Sunset 21
V. Darkness 24
VI. Danger 33
VII. The Meeting and Mourning 42
VIII. Captain Brand at Home 44
IX. Captain and Mate 53
X. An Old Spaniard with One Eye 61
XI. Conversation in Pockets and Sleeves 69
XII. Doctor and Priest 73
XIII. A Manly Fandango 79
XIV. A Pirates' Dinner 85
XV. Drowning a Mother to Murder a Daughter 92
XVI. Nuptials of the Girl with Dark Eyes 103
XVII. Doom of Dona Lucia 112
XVIII. End of the Banquet 119
XIX. Fandango on One Leg 122
XX. Business 133
XXI. Treasure 138
XXII. Pleasure 144
XXIII. Work 150
XXIV. Caught in a Net 154
XXV. The Mouse that Gnawed the Net 160
XXVI. The Hurricane 166
XXVII. The Virgin Mary 168
XXVIII. The Ark that Jack Built 173
Part II
XXIX. Laying Up the Strands 179
XXX. Old Friends 186
XXXI. The Commander of the "Rosalie" 193
XXXII. A Splice Parted 198
XXXIII. The Blue Pennant in the Cabin 201
XXXIV. The Devil to Pay 203
XXXV. And the Pitch Hot 208
XXXVI. The Chase 214
XXXVII. The Wreck of the "Centipede" 220
XXXVIII. Vultures and Sharks 226
XXXIX. Escondido 231
XL. Paul Darcantel 236
XLI. Instinct and Wonder 243
XLII. Truth and Terror 247
XLIII. Peace and Love 252
XLIV. Snuff out of a Diamond Box 256
XLV. Lilies and Sea-weed 262
XLVI. Parting 266
XLVII. Devotion 270
XLVIII. All Alive Again 273
XLIX. The Rope Laid Up 278
L. On a Bed of Thorns 288
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Captain Brand Frontispiece
"When the Wind Comes from Good San Antonio" 12
The Pirates Boarding the Brig 26
The Night Chase 38
The Pirate Den 47
The "Panchita" 50
"He Touched the Bell Overhead as He Spoke" 65
A Pirates' Dinner 85
The Pirate's Prey 94
"A Supernatural Warning!" 116
Shriving a Sinner 124
"He Crept Forward on Hands and Knees" 141
"A Dull, Heavy, Booming Roar" 156
"See If You Can Not Slip That Pretty Silk Rope Over my
Head" 162
Building the Boat 174
The United States Frigate "Monongahela" 183
"Queer Old Stick, That!" Said the Commodore 188
And the Pitch Hot 208
The Stern Chase 217
"His Right Arm Poised with Clenched Hand Aloft," Etc. 256
The Old Water-Logged Launch 280
"Now Captain Brand Knew What Was Coming" 294
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
SPREADING THE STRANDS.
"Shout three times three, like Ocean's surges,
Join, brothers, join, the toast with me;
Here's to the wind of life, which urges
The ship with swelling waves o'er sea!"
"Masters, I can not spin a yarn
Twice laid with words of silken stuff.
A fact's a fact; and ye may larn
The rights o' this, though wild and rough
My words may loom. 'Tis your consarn,
Not mine, to understand. Enough--"
It was in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and five, and in the
River Garonne, where a large, wholesome merchant brig lay placidly on
the broad and shining water. The fair city of Bordeaux, with its great
mass of yellow-tinted buildings, towers, and churches, rose from the
river's banks, and the din and bustle of the great mart came faintly to
the ear. The sails of the brig were loosed, the crew were hauling home
the sheets and hoisting the top-sails with the clear, hearty songs of
English sailors, while the anchor was under foot and the cable rubbing
with a taut strain against the vessel's bluff bows. At the gangway stood
a large, handsome seaman, bronzed by the sun and winds of about half a
century, dressed in a square-cut blue jacket and loose trowsers, talking
to the pilot--a brown little Frenchman, in coarse serge raiment and
large, clumsy sabots. The conversation between them was carried on
partly by signs, for, in answer to the pilot, the other threw his
stalwart arm aloft toward the folds of the spreading canvas, and nodded
his head.
"_Fort bien! vite donc! mon Capitaine_," said the pilot; "the tide is on
the ebb; let us go. Up anchor!"
"Ay, pilot!" replied the captain, pulling out his watch; "in ten
minutes. The ladies, you know, must have time to say 'good-by.' Isn't it
so, my pilot?"
The gallant little Frenchman smiled in acquiescence, and, taking off his
glazed hat with the air of a courtier, said, "_Pardieu!_ certainly; why
not? Jean Marie would lose his pilotage rather than hurry a lady."
Going aft to the raised cabin on the quarter-deck, the captain softly
opened the starboard door, and looking in, said, in a kindly tone,
"It is time to part, my friends; the pilot says we are losing the
strength of the tide, so we must kiss and be off."
Two lovely women were sitting, hand clasped in hand, on the sofa of the
transom. You saw they were sisters of nearly the same age, and a little
boy and girl tumbling about their knees showed they were mothers--young
mothers too, for the soft, full, rounded forms of womanhood, with the
flush of health and matronly pride tinged their cheeks, while masses of
dark hair banded over their smooth brows and tearful eyes told the story
at a glance. They rose together as the captain spoke.
"_Adieu, chere Rosalie!_ we shall soon meet again, let us hope, never
more to part."
"Adieu, Nathalie! adieu, dearest sister! adieu! adieu!"
The loving arms were twined around each other in the last embrace; the
tears fell like gentle rain, but with smiles of hope and trustfulness
they parted.
"Ay," said the sturdy skipper, as he stood with eyes brimful of moisture
regarding the sisters, "ay, trust me for bringing you together again.
Well do I remember when you were little wee things, when I brought you
to France after the earthquake in Jamaica; just like these little rogues
here"--and he laid his brawny hands on the heads of the children, who
clung to each other within the folds of their mothers' dresses; "but
never fear, my darlings," he went on, "you will meet happily again. Ay,
that you shall, if old Jacob Blunt be above land or water."
A boat which was lying alongside the brig shoved off; the little boy,
who had been left on board, was held high above the rail in the arms
of a sturdy negro, while the mother stood beside him, waving her
handkerchief to the boat as it pulled rapidly away toward the shore.
"Man the windlass, lads!" cried the captain. "Mister Binks, brace round
the head-yards, and up with the jib as soon as the anchor's a-weigh."
The windlass clinked as the iron palls caught the strain of the cable,
the anchor was wrenched from its oozy bed, the vessel's head fell off,
and, gathering way, she moved quietly down the River Garonne.