DANGER.
"What tale do the roaring ocean
And the night wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?
And why do the roaring ocean
And the night wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the mother,
Drive the color from her cheek?"
In all this time so little noise had been made that even the watch
below, in the brig's forecastle, were snoozing away without a dream of
danger; though, had one of them shown his nose above the fore-peak, he
would have either been knocked down and murdered like the mate, or, with
a gag in his jaws, been hurled overboard. When the leader of the pirates
stepped again on deck, he said to his companions, who were still
clustered around the companion-way,
"Well, my boys, we have 'arned a good prize--a fine cargo of the real
stuff--silks, wines, and what not, besides a few of the shiners!" Here
he jingled the bag of gold and dollars in his paws, and then threw it,
with an easy, indifferent toss, on to the slide of the companion-way.
"But what think ye, lads?" he continued, in a hoarse whisper, "there's a
petticoat aboard! and, as sure as my name's Bill Gibbs, here goes for a
look; for there's nothing like lamplight for the lovely creeturs!"
As he slewed round on his bare feet to approach the entrance to the deck
cabin, a move was made in the same direction by two or three of the
wretches of his band; but, shoving them roughly back with his heavy
fist, and clapping a hand to his belt, he said, in a threatening tone,
"None o' that, my souls! I takes the first look myself; and if I think
her beauty'll suit the chief, why--I shall be able to judge, ye know,
whether she'll go furder on the cruise or swim ashore with the rest of
the lubbers at daylight to Jamaiky. Keep your eye on the schooner,
Pedro, and don't make no more sail! D'ye hear?"
"Ay, ay, _si senor_!" quoth that worthy, as he and his followers fell
sulkily back. It took but three strides for Mr. Bill Gibbs to reach the
cabin door, when, finding it hard to open, after several trials at the
knob, he placed his burly shoulder against the edge of the panelwork,
and, throwing his powerful weight upon it, the door yielded with a snap
of the lock, and he pitched forward full length upon the cabin floor.
The noise startled the lady within, and speaking as if half asleep, she
called,
"Banou! Banou! what is the matter?"
"_Mon dieu, madame!_ we are prisoners in the hands of pirates!"
Before more words were uttered, Mr. Bill Gibbs, who by this time had
regained his feet while giving vent to a volley of blasphemous curses,
roared out as he beheld the black, "Ho! nigger passengers, hay? A
mounseer of color, as I'm a Christian! I say, cucumber shins, is that
'ere woman as is talkin' as black as you be?"
He was not left long in doubt concerning the color of the person he
alluded to, for at the instant the stateroom door flew open, and the
lovely woman, in her loose night-dress and hair streaming in brown,
heavy silken tresses over her fair neck and shoulders, with a pale and
terror-stricken face, stood before him. Speechless with agony, she gazed
at the coarse ruffian, who had, at the moment, reached the swinging cot
which held the little boy, and while he was in the act of looking at the
sleeping child, the mother uttered a fearful cry and the boy awoke.
"Sarvice, madam! don't be scared! come and take the little chap! I ain't
goin' to hurt him--that is, if it be a him."
The frightened mother, spell-bound at first, needed no second bidding,
and, forgetful of her disheveled dress, sprang forward, and with
outstretched arms, bare to the shoulder, was about to snatch her child.
The pirate, however, with his red eyes gleaming with unholy fire, threw
his great arm around the lovely woman's waist, and with a hoarse,
fiendish chuckle of triumph, attempted to draw her toward him. But,
quick as lightning, two black, sinewy paws clutched him with such a
steel-like grip about the throat that his sacrilegious arm dropped by
his side, and he was hurled violently back against the cabin bulkhead.
Then standing before him, the negro glared like an angry lion roused
from his lair as he looked round inquiringly at his mistress.
"Ho!" sputtered the ruffian, as he pulled a pistol from his belt, "ho!
you mean fight, do ye?"
"_Banou! mon pauvre Banou!_" screamed the terrified woman. "Yield! Oh,
sir, spare him! Don't harm us, and we will give you all we possess!"
The burly scoundrel hesitated a moment, and balanced the cocked pistol
in his hand, as if undecided whether to blow the black's brains out on
the spot where he stood; and then shoving the weapon back in his sash,
and keeping a wary eye on his assailant, he exclaimed in an angry tone,
"Well, come here, then, my deary, and give us a kiss for this nigger's
bad manners."
Moving forward as he spoke, he caught up the little boy from the cot,
tore the gold chain and locket from his neck, which he thrust into his
pocket, and shook him roughly at arm's length, in hopes, perhaps, of
enticing the tender mother within his merciless grasp. But again the
black interposed his heavy frame before his mistress.
"What! at it again, are ye? Well, then"--fumbling with his left hand for
his pistol--"say your prayers, ye imp of darkness."
The black seemed, however, in no mood for praying; and putting forth his
slabs of arms like the paws of an alligator, he tried to grapple his foe
by the throat. The cries of the mother now mingled with those of the
child as he put out his little arms to shield his black protector. The
ruffian, foiled in his purpose, with baffled rage evaded the negro by
stepping to one side; and as he did so, he hurled the helpless child
with great force from him. The large cabin windows at the stern were
open to let in the breeze; and as the brig sank slowly down with her
counter to the following waves, and gurgled up as the sea eddied and
surged around the rudder, the faint, plaintive cry of the little boy
arose above the seething waters--a light splash followed--and the mother
had lost her child!
"Oh, monster!" cried the heart-broken woman. "Oh, my boy! my boy! May
Heaven curse you forever!" as she sank down senseless on the deck.
The awful howl of vengeance which burst from the deep lungs of Banou
came simultaneously with the report of the pirate's pistol, the bullet
from which struck the black hard in the left shoulder; but putting out
for the third time his sinewy arms, and this time with an iron grip that
only left the ruffian time to yell with a stifled curse for help, he was
hurled headlong, smashing through the latticed cabin door, and fell
stunned upon the outer deck. In an instant half a dozen pistol balls
whistled around the negro's head, and the knives of the pirates flashed
from their sashes as they rushed forward to bury the blades in his body;
but leaping to one side, and while two more bullets were driven into
him, he seized an iron-shod pump brake from the bulwarks, and, with a
mighty bound, whirled it once with the rapidity of thought high above
his head, and brought it down on the leg of his prostrate foe. Such was
the force of the blow that it smashed both bones, and drove the white
splinters through the brute's trowsers, where they gleamed out red and
bloody by the light of the binnacle lamp. Even then, wounded, and the
blood flowing from several places, and though almost encircled in the
grasp of the scoundrels, Banou made good his retreat to the cabin, and
planted his powerful body firmly against the door.
With a volley of polyglot curses and yells in all languages, two or
three of the pirates stopped to raise their fallen leader, while the
others, leaving the wheel and vessel to herself, rushed in pursuit of
the black. Scarcely, however, had they made a step, when their ears were
saluted by a stunning crash from a heavy cannon, and the peculiar
humming sound of a round shot as it flew just above their heads between
the brig's masts.
There, within half a cable's length to windward, loomed up the dark hull
of a large ship. The crew were evidently at quarters, with the battle
lanterns lit and gleaming in the ports, while the rays shot up the black
rigging and top-hamper, and spread out over the sails in fitful flashes
as she slowly forged abreast the brig, with her main top-sail to the
mast. For a minute not a sound was heard, though the decks were full of
men, some with their heads poked out of the open ports beside the guns,
or swarming along over the lee hammock-nettings and about the quarter
boats; but the next instant there came in a voice of thunder through the
trumpet,
"What's the matter on board that brig?"
There was no answer for a few seconds, until a choking voice, as if with
a pump-bolt athwart the speaker's mouth, mumbled out,
"We're captured by pi--"
A dull, heavy blow cut short these words; and though the reply to the
hail could hardly have been heard on board the ship, yet, as if divining
the true state of the case, loud, clear orders were given--
"Away, there, third and fourth cutters! away! Spring, men!"
Then came the surging noise of the whistles as the falls dropped the
boats from the davits; then the men, leaping down into cutters--silently
and quick--no sound save the clash of a cutlass or the rattle of an
oar-blade as they took their places and shoved off. Again an order
through the trumpet--
"Clear away the starboard battery! Load with grape! Sail trimmers!
stations for wearing ship! Hard up the helm! Fill away the main-yard!"
The "Scourge" had by this time forged ahead of the brig, her sails aback
or shivering, as she came up and fell off from the wind, and the boats
dancing with full crews toward her. No sooner, however, had the presence
of the unwelcome stranger been made known on board the brig than the
pirates seemed seized with a panic, and, without a second thought, they
scudded to leeward, where their boat had been hauled alongside, and
forgetful or indifferent for the fate of their companions below, though
dragging the while their maimed comrade to the rail, they lowered him
into the boat, jumped in themselves, and pulled away with all their
strength toward the schooner near. They were not, however, a moment too
soon; for as the last of the band disappeared, their places were
supplied by a crowd of nimble sailors to windward, headed by an officer
with his sword between his teeth as he swung over the bulwarks. The
first sound which greeted the new-comers was from below, and from the
throat of the honest skipper. Down the open companion-way leaped the
officer, with half a dozen stout, eager sailors at his heels, and dashed
right into the lower cabin. There was the brave old skipper, with but
one arm free, shielding himself and struggling--faint and well-nigh
exhausted--from the knives of the drunken brace of rascals who had been
left to guard him. A pistol in the hands of one of this pair was pointed
with an unsteady aim at the officer as he entered, but the ball struck
the empty rum-bottle on the table and flew wide of its mark; and before
the smoke of the powder had cleared away, a sword and cutlass had passed
through and through both their bodies, and they fell dead upon the cabin
floor.
While Captain Blunt found breath to give a rapid explanation of the
trouble, and while the brig was once more got under control and the
wounded cared for, we will take a look at the man-of-war and the part
she bore in the business.
At the first sound of the warning gun from the cruiser the schooner
began to show life; and drawing her head sheets, she wore short round on
her heel, with every thing ready to run up her fore and aft sails, and a
stay-tackle likewise rove and hanging over the low gunwale to hook on to
the boat and hoist it in the moment it came alongside. Meanwhile the
"Scourge" had shot ahead of the brig, and wearing round her forefoot,
with her starboard tacks on board, she emerged out beyond, like a hound
just slipped from the leash. As she cleared the brig, the schooner lay
with bare masts about three cables' length to windward, and the rattle
of oars told that her boat had just scraped alongside. At that moment a
clear, determined voice shouted through the trumpet,
"Level your guns! Take good aim! Fire!"
A brilliant series of sheets of flame burst forth from the corvette's
battery, lighting up the water and jet black wales, and away aloft to
the great towering maze of rigging and sails to the trucks, with the
topmen clustering to windward, and their very eyes and teeth lit up in
the glare; then, too, the crews of the guns, in their trim frocks and
trowsers; the marines on the top-gallant forecastle, with their
firelocks and white cross-belts; and abaft a knot of officers on the
poop, with night-glasses to their eyes, all standing out as clear as day
in the sudden flashes from the cannon. Then followed the concussive
roar, and the next instant you could hear the hurtling rush of the iron
hail as it flew singly or in bunches through the air, or skipped in its
deadly flight from wave to wave, until it went crashing into the
pirate's boat, slapping with heavy thumps against the schooner's side,
or furrowing along her decks; while a shower of white splinters flew
high over her low rail, and told how well the iron had done its
bidding. Then, with many a groan and imprecation, the shattered and
sinking boat was cut adrift, and, a moment after, the sails of the
vessel were spread, the sheets hauled flat aft, and, taking the breeze,
she heeled over till her lee rail was all awash, and away she walked,
right up to windward.
But again came the clear, commanding tones on board the cruiser, mingled
with the jumping of the crew and ramming home the charges in the guns:
"Load! round shot! Run out! One point abaft the beam! Fire as you bring
the schooner to bear!"
Out belched the red flames; the heavy globes of iron, like so many black
peas in daylight, sung their deadly note as they darted on their way,
and the corvette gave a little heel to leeward as the shock of the
explosion was felt. One shot dropped within fifty yards of the low hull
of the schooner, bounded just clear of her after-deck, knocked off the
head and shoulder of a man at the tiller, and then went skipping away
over the water like a black foot-ball. Another messenger cut off the
schooner's delicate fore-top-mast as clean as a bit of glass, bringing
down the gaff-top-sail, and, what was equally pleasant, the fellow who
was setting it--pitching him over and over like a wheel, until he fell,
a bruised and lifeless lump of jelly, on the oak bitts at the fore-mast.
Before, however, they were treated to another of these metallic doses,
the pirates had got their craft in splendid trim; and with every stitch
of her canvas spread, and tugging and straining, she rushed on with the
heels of a race-horse, within three points of the wind. The "Scourge,"
too, was now close hauled, her yards braced as fine as needles, and
crowded with every inch of sail that would draw; while every ten minutes
or so she would let slip two or more guns from a division at the chase.
But the uncertain gloom of starlight, and the darkening effect of the
passing trade-clouds, made the little vessel a very difficult object to
see; and though one of the last balls struck her on the narrow deck,
passed through that and the waterways, and out to windward, spoiling two
of her timbers, and no end of planking, yet this was the last damage she
received. Her crew, also, had got as well as could be out of harm's
way--both the sound and wounded--and were lying quietly as possible deep
down in the vessel's run. When daylight broke the breeze began to
slacken, but she was by this time hull down from the corvette, a long
way beyond the reach of her long eighteens in the bow ports, and eating
her way to windward, with no chance of being taken.
[Illustration: THE NIGHT CHASE.]
"It's no use," said the captain of the corvette to his first lieutenant,
as they stood watching the receding chase. "We may as well give it up;
she has the heels of us in this light wind, and will soon be out of
sight. I think, however," continued the captain, with a smile, "that
he'll remember the 'Scourge' when he meets her again. This is the second
time we have chased that fellow; and this heat, by the way the splinters
flew, we must have peppered the skin off his back."
Shutting up the joints of the spy-glass which he held in his hand, he
took hold of the man-ropes of the poop ladder, and as he put his feet on
the steps, he said,
"You can go about, Mr. Cleveland, and run down to the brig."