Leonard Lindsay ;

The wind blowing steady, the ship was easy to manage, so we speedily set to rummage our prize. Going into the hold, we found that she had little aboard save some campeachy-wood and some cocoa-nuts, and a couple of old brass guns, of about six pounds calibre, which seemed to have been put there for ballast. In the cabin was a good store of powder and lead for casting bullets, which was exceedingly valuable to us, and several long-barrelled muskets in good condition. The best part of the prize, however, was her storeroom, as it contained a great quantity of rope, canvas, and other things appertaining to the use of a ship. We also found a tool chest and a medicine chest, both of which were very welcome to us. In navigating the schooner, we, of course, divided ourselves into two watches—the larboard and the starboard watch, Nicky and I having the one, and Le Picard and the Indian the other. We also reefed our sails so as to have the ship snugger, and the better prepared for squalls should any happen. We made good progress that night when the land-breeze blew, and hoped next day, by evening, to observe the headlands of the Marmousettes. Catching sight, however, soon after sunrise, of a sail close in shore, and not wishing, in our weak condition, to be overhauled, we stood away directly to sea, so that, by noon, only the blue mountain ridges of Hispaniola were visible. In the afternoon we put about ship, and made again for the land. This long stretch caused us to lose much time, so that we had another night’s navigation before us ere we could work up to our bay. Nicky and I had the mid-watch. It was a glorious night. We were running five or six knots, with the cool land-breeze sighing in our sails. The heaven was one vault of stars, and, lying on deck wrapped up in folds of old canvas, while Nicky held the tiller beside me, I fixed my gaze upon the Southern Cross, that beautiful cluster of stars which shines only in the tropics, and which, appearing in the solemn and thoughtful night, always caused me to feel that I was in a strange part of the world, even more than the curious animals, and plants, and men, which one sees daily and ordinarily about one, when abroad. And yet, beautiful as the constellation was, methought it had less charms than the Plough, and the bright belt of Orion circling about the polar star, which I used to gaze upon in the long night-watches at home. As I thought of these, I thought of the old fisher-boat tossing upon the wild bay of St. Andrew’s, or lying stilly at her grapnel in the mouth of the Balwearie burn, while my mother and I sat with our palms mending nets upon the sand-hill in the sun. I think I would have been a great day-dreamer had I not led such a stirring life as kept my muscles busier than my brain; but on these quiet clear nights, aboard ship, when all was still, save the steady murmur of the wind, and the monotonous plunge of the vessel, as she breasted the ever-rolling seas—in these nights there is a witchery upon me, and I love to let my fancy carry me away, and surround me with old faces and old times. So now, being in this mood, I dreamed and dreamed with my eyes open, persuading myself that I was on board the Jean Livingstone again, and that we were jogging along the rocky coast of Forfar, until I actually started up, and looking at the shore to windward, thought that I could discover in the shimmer of the moon the tall white rock we called the Lady of Arbroath.

‘Nicky,’ says I, being in this mood, ‘do you ever think of home?’

‘That do I,’ he responded, ‘and hug myself that I am not there.’

‘But is there no old place,’ quoth I—‘no old face you would wish to look on again?’

‘Not a bit of it,’ he replied, ‘I am too happy here. We have a good ship, we have staunch comrades, we have prospect of wresting plenty of doubloons and pieces of eight from those rascally Spaniards. We have Jamaica, with all its taverns, and its dice, and its wenches, to help us to spend them; and besides all these, why, we have at this moment a steady land-breeze, which is sending us along at five knots, and a glass of good brandy, after a good supper, to keep out the marsh fever. What more can any man want?’

‘Perhaps,’ quoth I, ‘you were not happy at home?’

‘You have hit it there,’ replied my comrade. ‘No. My father was a stout king’s man—why he was so, I know not, for I am sure the king never did much for him. But poor dad got what brains he had knocked out at Naseby, and some time after my mother married old Ephraim Crotch, as bitter a Puritan as ever wore cropped hair and ass’s ears. Now I, being a youth of spirit, did in no ways take to my father-in-law—on the contrary. Well, I mocked his slang, and mimicked his snuffle. Many a time did he lay his staff across these shoulders—augh! they ache even now! The old frump—I hate the thought of him!—often hath he turned me out of doors, to sleep in the fields. Then have I peeped in at the lattice, and seen old square-toes snug in the chimney ingle. “Ha!” thought I, “my father’s bones would rattle in their grave could he but look in, and see you in his old oaken chair, whelp of the Barebones breed!” So you may believe that our house was a pretty place for bickering. I loved all that my stepfather hated. He said that music was devil’s screeching—ergo, I played the viol and the tabor till they were broken on my head. He denounced all diversion, swore that rope-dancing was a subtle device of the evil one, and that the bowling-alley was the highway to hell—ergo, did I frequent fairs and jovial meetings, where the bowls trundled, and wrestled many a fall, and grinned through many a horse collar. I promise thee, Will, I was not made for a Puritan, and so, at length, they having, by an ordinance of old Noll, hewed down our Maypole, I e’en laid a good thick splinter thereof across the back of my reverend stepfather, and marched from Cornwall for ever and a day.’

‘To London, no doubt?’ quoth I.

‘Even so,’ he said, ‘but there I found neither gold nor silver in the streets, and I lived for some months a very unedifying vagabond sort of life, knees and elbows being generally very bare, and stomach generally very hungry. At length, being hard driven, I e’en enlisted, though it went hard against my conscience, under Old Noll. Such drilling, such fighting, and such psalm-singing. The sergeant’s ratan was never off our shoulders, except when he was exhorting us in the pulpit, or standing on a horseblock, calling the royalists sons of Agag. So, this going on for some time, and I trying in vain to become a saint, for which I had not sufficient bad qualities, I e’en took leave to desert; and because the land was too hot to hold me, I became a mariner and went to sea. But at sea, Will, I saw one great sight, I saw the king land on the beach of Dover, and having long observed that seasons of rejoicing are seasons of hospitality, I treated my ship as I had done my regiment, and followed the royal train up to London. That was indeed a march. All the country flocked to the road to see the king come back to his own again. It was nothing but eating and drinking, and up caps, “Huzza for King Charles, and to the devil with the Rump!” Well, on Blackheath, near London, was drawn up my own old regiment. ‘Gad, the sun was on my side of the hedge now, for there stood our sergeant as grim as Beelzebub in the sulks, and I having many pottles of wine in me, gave a tug to his grizzled moustache, and asked what he thought of me for a son of Agag now. I warrant you Old Ironside used his halberd with very little discretion by way of reply, and so I came away with a bloody cockscomb. But all was one for that. Wine was a great balm, and I applied it plenteously; being indeed in a very loyal state of drunkenness for certain days, I know not how many, until, having a little recovered, I found myself in the filthy hold of a ship with other ragamuffins; some sober and weeping, some drunk and singing, and some ill with the small-pox and jail fever, raving and dying. Then I presently understood that all this goodly company was bound on a voyage to the plantations in Barbadoes—we having, it seems, signed articles to that effect, in consideration of certain small sums of money, which they told us we had received, and spent in drink very jovially, and as became stout-hearted fellows. I made a bold attempt to escape by knocking down the sentry at the hatchway, but all I gained by the proceeding was a pair of very heavy irons, which were put on near the Tower, and which were not knocked off until we were three days’ sail from Barbadoes. There I landed, and, being duly sold, was set to labour with sundry other companions in misfortune amongst the sugar-canes. In a few months I was one of a very few survivors, but being very weak and sickly from two fevers which I had, I was not very sharply looked after, and so I managed, without much difficulty, to smuggle myself on board a small bark bound for Jamaica, where I joined the “Brethren of the Coast,” and have lived a reasonably jolly life ever since.’

This was Nicky’s story, and an adventurous one it was. While I was thinking of it, he began again—

‘No, no—no England for me, while there are Spaniards to fight, good ships to sail in, and stout fellows to drink with in these bright Indian seas.’ And therewith, having taken a good draught of brandy, he burst out singing:

‘Take comfort, pretty Margery, and swab away your tears,
  Your sweetheart, Tom, has sailed among the gallant Buccaneers,
  So dry your eyes, my Margery, your Tom is true and bold,
  And he’ll come again to see you, lass, with glory and with gold,
  For his comrades are the stoutest and the bravest in the land,
  And there’s ne’er a Don came out of Spain will meet them hand to hand.

  So-ho! for pike and sabre cut, and balls about your ears,
  ’Tis little he must care for these, would join the Buccaneers!

‘The man who lies at home at ease, a craven heart has he,
  While there’s wild boars on the hills to hunt, and Spaniards on the sea;
  So look alive my stately Don, for spite your thundering guns,
  Your shining gold we’ll make our own, and eke your pretty nuns.
  We’ll spend the first, and love the last, and when we tire ashore,
  ’Tis but another cruise my boys, and back we come with more.

  So-ho! for pike and sabre cut, and balls about your ears,
  ’Tis little he must care for these, would join the Buccaneers!’

‘Silence, silence, Nicky!’ said I, laughing; ‘you will awaken the watch below.’

‘So be it,’ quoth he; ‘to listen to such a song is better than sleep. ’Tis a rare good one, and a rare fellow made it in Tortugas, one night when we were melting the last pieces of eight remaining after a cruise on shore. But you put me out. Hear the last verse—

‘What though to peace in Europe, the Dons and we incline,
The treaty seldom has much force—to the south’ard of the line.
Here’s wassailing and fighting, the merriest of lives,
With staunch and jovial comrades, with sweethearts and with wives.
We sweep the green savannahs, we storm the Spanish walls,
And we’re kings upon the water, by the grace of cannon balls.

Then ho! for pike and sabre cut, and bullets round your ears,
’Tis little he must care for these, would head the Buccaneers!’

Next morning, after being becalmed as usual in the interval between the land breeze and the regular trade wind, we kept pretty close in with the coast, looking anxiously for our bay, and we even feared that we had overshot our mark; but about noon the well-known rocks became visible, and presently thereafter we dashed up the Marmousettes, wondering what our comrades would take us for. There was no English flag aboard; but thinking that the folks ashore would recognise the cut of the boat sail which we carried along with us, we hoisted that to the mainmast head, and with this strange standard flying approached the beach. We could see no change in the bay, and hoped to find our friends all well. Presently, as we were rounding a wooded point, and just opening the huts, a musket was fired ashore among the trees, and we heard the loud, hoarse voice of Meinheer shouting that a strange ship was in the bay. At this moment, doubling the little cape I speak of, and furling up our sails as well as we could, we descried the whole of our party running about in great commotion upon the beach, shouting to each other, loading their pieces, and hammering their flints. Thereon, we all gave a great cheer together, and showed ourselves conspicuously above the bulwarks; on which, we being immediately recognised, they answered our cheer with loud exclamations, and, running to the canoe, came alongside just as our anchor fell three fathoms deep upon the white sand.

‘What ship is this?’ exclaimed Stout Jem, who was the first to leap upon deck.

‘She was the schooner Nostra Senora del Carmine,’ I replied; ‘but now she is a bold privateer, and will, I hope, never hear a Spanish name again.’

Then we related all the particulars of the schooner’s capture, and informed our comrades what a clever sea-boat she was, and how we thought that, were she well manned, we could not have a more proper ship for our purpose. And then we moored the schooner carefully, and Stout Jem inspected her both below and aloft very minutely, being exceedingly well pleased at the quantity of stores which were on board, and also at the smart appearance and weatherly look of our prize. So all the company being in high spirits, we set to work at once to victual the schooner, having ample supplies of provisions at hand, and into her we of course transferred what clothes and property of the kind we had saved from the attack upon the first settlement; and having finished our task by nightfall, the whole party embarked, and we towed the schooner to the middle of the bay, where we anchored, and Stout Jem then proclaimed that he meant to hold a grand sailing council upon deck. This is a ceremony always in use amongst the buccaneers, and at these consultations they settle the articles of the voyage, and assign to every man what his share shall be of the total amount of booty which may be captured.