An uneventful run of ten degrees brought the _Charles_ and her tender
to the twenty-third degree of latitude and the Christmas season of
the year. Pretty far south they were by this time. Another of those
innumerable little Portuguese brigs here fell into their maw. Although
only twenty-five tons burden, her cargo was worth a couple of hundred
pounds.
They were off Grande Island at the time, and beating along close to the
shore. Rounding the headland, they saw the settlement of Grande Island
before them, with a brig or two at anchor in the bay. Upon this Quelch
left his flagship and went over to the tender and imprudently struck
off for one of these moored brigs.
As the tender got closer, those aboard saw a boat put hurriedly
off from the Portuguese brig and make for the town. Apparently the
natives had suspected the oncoming tender as promising them no good
fortune. Quelch and his men must have grinned at this easy capture, and
doubtless wondered why the deserting crew did not scuttle their ship
rather than leave her to fall into the hands of this unknown enemy.
Quelch was drawing nigh to his prey when to his surprise a large, red,
stolid face rose, like an early sun, above the bulwarks. One man had
evidently remained as a reception committee, and he certainly not a
Portuguese.
He claimed to be a Dutchman when the pirates had flocked over the side
of his ship and clustered about him, brilliant with their new silk
breeches and formidable with an assortment of cutlasses and pistols.
This unconcerned Dutchman seems to have been far from temperamental,
and entirely unacquainted with nervousness. He casually spat over the
side and asked who they were that thus jumped a fellow’s ship. He had
no trouble finding folk among the pirates who could palaver enough
Dutch to get along with. He added that there was a pretty good gain in
the ship,--sugar to the value of one hundred and fifty pounds and gold
and silver and Portuguese coins worth about fifty more. It was not his
property.
He lolled against the mast, watching with dull eye the transfer of
the sugar from the Portuguese to the _Charles_, drawn in closer for
that purpose. He noted without a flicker of expression the fine silk
breeches of these sailors, and gazed ponderingly down at his own
garments of canvas. Silk breeches, eh? He strolled slowly up and down
the deck in the hard labor of reflection.
Silk breeches did it. With the last boatload of cargo went the
Dutchman. He was made to feel right at home, Quelch seeing his value as
a pilot, an interpreter and an extraordinarily cool hand.
The _Charles_ and her tender put out to sea, leaving the little town
of Grande Island provender for ten years’ wonder. The Dutch recruit
had many talks with the men. And all the time he was thinking the new
situation through.
He desired to come right down to a definite business basis. He
appraised carefully the accumulated plunder and learned of the money
holdings of the quartermaster. It would do very well; he too would
have a pair of silk breeches. He put in his claim for a full share of
everything, past, present and to come.
This demand became the talk of the ships. It grew and grew until it
split the harmony of the floating community. At last in a deserted
inlet, where the woods ran darkly down to a silver beach, the whole
affair was threshed out.
All hands were trumpeted up by him of the ponderous antique titles.
The Dutchman stolidly and unmistakably stated his terms. Some spoke in
favor of them, others against; and at last a vote for and against was
taken. The majority determined that the Dutchman was not entitled to a
full share.
He turned a quid of tobacco about in his hairy cheek and gazed up at
the sky. He had a trump card to play, and a very firm nerve to cast it.
He said his conditions would be met or he would inform against them
all. Just whom he would inform is not apparent; nor is it clear what
damage an informer could do to people who robbed right under the guns
of forts, and took ships from their anchor within a stone’s throw of
town.
This Dutchman was either excessively stupid or a man of extraordinary
courage. As a sailor he must have seen that the kind of folk he was
dealing with were neither timid nor tender; never in all his sea-going
years had he looked right in the eyes of just so hard an aggregation as
he did then. Yet he stands there quite alone and backs up his claim not
by prayer but by threat. It is one of the most curious incidents of the
sea.
Of course, a chap like this must be put out of the way. Methods and
means were discussed at this same meeting, and once again a vote was
taken--this time as to what they should do with the Dutchman. The
majority decreed that he should be marooned then and here.
Mr. Dutchman was ordered over the side and into the boat. He was rowed
ashore and left with a gun, some powder and shot. He gazed stolidly at
the departing boat, his hands deep in his canvas pockets, the twist
of tobacco turning around in his cheek. Fair enough; if they couldn’t
accept a business proposition, why, he couldn’t do business with them,
and that was all there was to it.
Perhaps a lucky man at that. He didn’t get a pair of silk breeches, but
neither did he get a hemp necktie.