Throughout the first part of the night we held on our course, the poop
lights of the _Gannet_ acting as a guide. Watches were set, five men in
each, I taking my turn in the first watch. Towards morning the wind
veered round and blew freshly from the west'ard, and when the sun rose,
a watery orb, the wind increased into half a gale.
We saw the _Gannet_ shorten sail, bowling along on the starboard tack
under easy canvas to enable us to keep up with her. I ordered
additional preventers to be rove, had the hatches battened down, and
took every possible precaution to ensure the safety of my vessel.
By midday it blew a furious gale, accompanied by showers of blinding
rain, and before long the _Gannet_ was nowhere to be seen. Even with
her jury rig the _Little Gannet_ gave a good account of herself, though
it was necessary to take an occasional spell at the pumps to keep down
the water that made its way through her hastily patched seams.
From her build and rig my craft would lay closer to the wind than the
_Gannet_, so I ordered her to be kept on the starboard tack for two
hours, then on the larboard tack for another two hours, and so on,
hoping by these means to keep within sight of our escort when the gale
moderated.
There were, as I have mentioned, five men in each watch--one of the two
liberated slaves, a Genoese, who spoke no English, being in mine, while
the other, a negro, was placed in the second.
This negro was of a gigantic stature, with powerful limbs, yet of a
timorous disposition, so that directly the gale came on he could with
difficulty be made to do any work at all, but lay in a heap in the
weather scuppers, moaning and muttering in broken English, Spanish, and
his native tongue.
All that day the gale continued, but on the morrow the wind moderated,
leaving us rolling in the trough of a heavy swell, with no sign of the
_Gannet_.
About nine in the morning we spied a sail on our starboard quarter.
This we concluded was the _Gannet_, which we had evidently passed during
the night; but three hours afterwards we could see that it was not our
parent ship, but a smaller and speedier craft.
She had already perceived us, and had altered her course slightly to
come up with us, and, with every stitch of canvas set, she ploughed her
way rapidly towards us.
It was without doubt a hostile craft, but the knowledge that the
_Gannet_ was somewhere close to us, though where we knew not, spurred us
to make every preparation for flight or fight.
By four in the afternoon the stranger was a mile astern, and with the
aid of a glass I could see her colours--they were black, and bore the
emblem of the Jolly Roger.
I gathered my slender crew aft and exhorted them to make a desperate
resistance, telling them that a tame surrender would be as futile as
capture after a determined fight. In either case the result would be
death to us all, but the longer we held out the greater chance there was
of a timely rescue by the _Gannet_.
They one and all expressed their willingness to resist to the last, and
now commenced one of those despairing fights against overwhelming odds
that were only of too frequent occurrence. Many a gallant English vessel
has met her fate in a glorious but unrecorded effort in similar
circumstances, her end unknown at home and her disappearance soon
forgotten, save by those bloodthirsty scoundrels who have felt the fangs
of an Englishman at bay.
We immediately manned one of the long brass guns, training it right aft
on the advancing pirate. I directed the gunner to aim at the foeman's
spars, endeavouring to cripple her aloft. With a flash and a roar the
iron missile sped on its way, striking the pirate's topsail yard. There
was a shower of splinters and the broken spar fell, till brought up by
the strain on the topsail and t'gallant sail, and at the same time the
halyards of the foresail parted, bringing that sail down to the deck
with a run.
Notwithstanding our danger a cheer broke from us; but before we could
reload our gun the pirate yawed and let fly with her larboard guns.
The result was disastrous to us. Two of our men were killed on the spot
and two wounded, while both our jury masts went by the board, and the
_Little Gannet_ lay helpless on the waves.
The end was not long in coming. After another broadside the pirate
backed her main topsail and hove to at less than a cable's length off.
Two of her boats were lowered, and a swarm of bearded ruffians tumbled
into them and pushed off towards us.
Resistance was hopeless, but the pirate appeared anxious to take us
alive, and, partially stunned by a blow from a handspike, I was thrown
into one of the boats and taken on board our captor, where, together
with five survivors, I was placed under guard on her quarterdeck.
The pirate ship was called the _Friend of the Sea_, but she was the
enemy of all who sailed upon it. She was heavily armed and manned, her
crew comprising a ruffianly assortment of every nation of south-western
Europe, and, judging by the gold ornaments that every man wore, their
cruise had been highly successful for these rogues.
They were busily engaged in transferring the cargo of the _Little
Gannet_ to their own vessel. Much of this consisted of valuable stores
that the Algerine had on board when we took her, and the satisfaction of
the lawless freebooters was unbounded.
The two brass guns were also taken on board, the work of slinging them
from the _Little Gannet_ to the boats, and thence to the pirate ship,
being performed with a celerity and skill that would have drawn an
expression of admiration from the lips of Captain Poynings himself.
When the whole of the valuable stores were safely on board, the pirates
fired their prize, and an hour later, burned to the water's edge, my
first command sank in a cloud of smoke and steam.
The pirates worked unceasingly. Their next task was to repair the
splintered foreyard, which they did by fishing it with capstan bars and
small spars. While this work was in progress there was a shout from the
lookout, and from the hurrying scrambles of the crew I guessed that
another sail was sighted.
Hastily sending the spliced spar aloft, the crew squared the yards once
more, and the _Friend of the Sea_ gathered way. From where I was I
could not tell whether we were chasing or in chase; but in a few moments
we had other things to think about, for the pirate captain and his
lieutenant approached us.
The former was a short, broad-shouldered man, with a heavy, black beard.
He was dressed in typical buccaneering rig, with a red sash round his
waist, in which were stuck a whole armoury of pistols and a short
Turkish dagger. Cruelty and viciousness were stamped upon every outline
of his face, but at the same time there were signs of a courageous
nature and resource. He was apparently a Genoese or a Tuscan, and did
not, or would not, speak English, though he understood our replies in
the subsequent discourse we had with him.
His lieutenant was a taller man, also heavily bearded, and bronzed with
the sun. In spite of myself I gave an exclamation of surprise, for he
was none other than the man with the scarred face who had tried to rob
me on the Portsmouth road over three years ago, and who had escaped from
Colonel Middleton's troopers in the Forest of Bere.
The recognition was mutual, and from the look of intense hatred on the
man's features I knew that my fate was sealed. The two pirates
conversed volubly in an unknown tongue, then the renegade Englishman
turned towards us again.
"Listen, men," he said, addressing my companions in adversity. "Join us
and you'll have a life that cannot be beaten. Light work, a fair share
of fighting, and plenty of booty. In two years you'll be rich enough to
buy the best inns in England, and can live like gentlemen to the end of
your days. Refuse, and----" Here he jerked his thumb significantly in
the direction of the entry port.
"And as for you, you white-livered young cub," he added, addressing me,
"our captain here has given you to me, and, let me say, Dick Swyre will
be avenged. I'll have a little way of my own that will make you wish
that his end at the hands of the hangman were yours. Now, my lads, what
do you say? Wilt join our merry crew?"
The men who were appealed to were not long in making up their minds.
Tom Black and George Wilson firmly and emphatically refused, and their
example was followed by the two remaining Gannets--Dick Blake and a man
whose name I knew not, he being always called Old Shellback. The fifth
was the blackamoor who had been a galley slave. He, miserable cur that
he was, assented with alacrity, and was sent for'ard to join the
rascally crew.
My four men were led away, and for a time I was left to myself. I was
still dizzy from the effects of the blow I had received, and this
probably accounted for the complete indifference that I felt with regard
to my fate. My wrists and ankles were tied, making it impossible for me
to move, save by crawling and worming along the deck.
The pirates were still busily engaged in making preparations for the
coming fight, and from the general direction of the glances that they
made I came to the conclusion that the _Friend of the Sea_ was in this
case the fugitive. So busy were they that I edged towards an arm-rack,
and, placing my bound wrists against a sharp cutlass, I succeeded in
freeing them from the cords that bound them. This done, it was an easy
matter to loose the ropes that fastened my ankles; then, lying in a
position that hid my limbs from any passing pirate, I tried to form a
plan of escape.
I could, of course, leap through a port into the sea, taking my chance
of being picked up by the pursuing craft, which I fondly hoped would be
the avenging _Gannet_; but I did not know what distance separated us,
and even then, in the eagerness of the chase, there was little
likelihood of their noticing me, still less of heaving to and picking me
up.
Suddenly I thought of the foretop. If only I could reach that I could
defy the whole of the pirate crew, and at the same time render material
assistance to their foes. Now that I was free, my lethargy vanished,
and I was the personification of active revenge.
Taking advantage of the confusion I ran for'ard, and before I was
recognized I had gained the nettings and was well on my way up the
shrouds. A hoarse shout announced that my escape was discovered, and a
pistol bullet buzzed close to my head, quickly followed by another, that
flattened itself against a chainplate.
I redoubled my efforts, and, racing over the futtock shrouds, I gained
the top, where I threw myself down, panting and almost exhausted.