CHAPTER XIV
In which our hero finds that disagreeable occurrences
will take place on a cruise.
As soon as the ship had been hauled to the wind, Jack's ship's company seemed to think that there was nothing to do except to make merry; so they brought up some earthen jars full of wine, and emptied them so fast that they were soon fast asleep on the deck, with the exception of the man at the helm, who, instead of thirty-two, could clearly make out sixty-four points in the compass, and of course was able to steer to a much greater nicety. Fortunately, the weather was fine, for when the man at the helm had steered till he could see no more, and requested to be released, he found that his shipmates were so overpowered with fatigue, that it was impossible to wake them. He kicked them one by one most unmercifully in the ribs, but it was of no use: under these circumstances, he did as they did, that is, lay down with them, and in ten minutes it would have taken as much kicking to awake him as he gave his shipmates.
In the meantime the ship had it all her own way, and not knowing where she was to go, she went round and round the compass during the best part of the night. Mesty had arranged the watches, Jack had made a speech, and the men had promised everything, but the wine had got into their heads, and memory had taken that opportunity to take a stroll. Mesty had been down with Jack, examining the cabin, and in the captain's state-room they had found fourteen thousand dollars in bags. Of this they determined not to tell the men, but locked up the money and everything else of value, and took out the key. They then sat down at the cabin table, and after some conversation, it was no matter of surprise, after having been up all the night before, that Jack laid his head on the table and fell fast asleep. Mesty kept his eyes open for some time, but at last his head sank down upon his chest, and he also slumbered. Thus, about one o'clock in the morning. There was not a very good watch kept on board of the Nostra Senora del Carmen.
About four o'clock in the morning, Mesty tumbled forward, and he hit his head against the table, which roused him up.
"By de mass, I tink I almost fall asleep," cried he, and he went to the cabin window, which had been left open, and found that there was a strong breeze blowing in. "By de Lord, de wind ab come more aft," said Mesty, "why they not tell me?" So saying, he went on deck, where he found no one at the helm; everyone drunk, and the ship with her yards braced up running before the wind, just by way of a change. Mesty growled, but there was no time to lose; the topsails only were set,—these he lowered down, and then put the helm a-lee, and lashed it, while he went down to call our hero to his assistance. Jack roused up, and went on deck.
"This nebber do, Massa Easy; we all go to devil together—together—dam drunken dogs—I freshen um up anyhow." So Mesty drew some buckets of water, with which he soused the ship's company, who then appeared to be recovering their senses.
"By heavens!" says Jack, "but this is contrary to the articles of war; I shall read them to them to-morrow morning."
"I tell what better ting, Massa Easy: we go lock up all de wine, and sarve out so much, and no more. I go do it at once, 'fore they wake up."
Mesty went down, leaving Jack on deck to his meditations. "I am not sure," thought Jack, "that I have done a very wise thing. Here I am with a parcel of fellows who have no respect for the articles of war, and who get as drunk as David's sow. I have a large ship, but I have very few hands; and if it comes on bad weather, what shall I do?—for I know very little—hardly how to take in a sail. Then—as for where to steer, or how to steer, I know not—nor do any of my men; but, however, as it was very narrow when we came into the Mediterranean through the straits, it is hardly possible to get out of them without perceiving it; besides, I should know the rock of Gibraltar again if I saw it. I must talk to Mesty."
Mesty soon returned with the keys of the provision-room tied to his bandana.
"Now," says he, "they not get drunk again in a hurry." A few more buckets of water soon brought the men to their senses: they again stood on their legs, and gradually recovered themselves. Daylight broke, and they found that the vessel had made an attempt for the Spanish coast, being within a mile of the beach, and facing a large battery a fleur d'eau; fortunately they had time to square the yards, and steer the ship along shore under the topsails, before they were perceived. Had they been seen at daylight in the position that they were in during the night, the suspicions of the Spaniards would have been awakened; and had a boat been sent off, while they were all drunk, they must have been recaptured.
The men, who perceived what danger they had been in, listened very penitently to Jack's remonstrances; and our hero, to impress them more strongly on their minds, took out the articles of war, read that on drunkenness from beginning to end; but the men had heard it read so often at the gangway, that it did not make a due impression. As Mesty said, his plan was better, and so it proved; for as soon as Jack had done, the men went down to get another jug of wine, and found, to their disappointment, that it was all under lock and key.
In the meantime, Jack called Mesty aft, and asked him if he knew the way to Toulon. Mesty declared that he knew nothing about it.
"Then Mesty, it appears to me that we have a better chance of finding our way back to Gibraltar; for you know the land was on our left side all the way coming up the Mediterranean; and if we keep it, as it is now, on our right, we shall get back again along the coast."
Mesty agreed with Jack that this was the ne plus ultra of navigation; and that old Smallsole could not do better with his "pig-yoke" and compasses. So they shook a reef out of the topsails, set top-gallant sails, and ran directly down the coast from point to point, keeping about five miles distant. The men prepared a good dinner; Mesty gave them their allowance of wine, which was just double what they had on board the Harpy—so they soon appeared to be content. One man, indeed, talked very big and very mutinously, swearing that if the others would join him they would soon have liquor enough; but Mesty gave him his look, opened his knife, and swore that he would settle him, and Jack knocked him down with a handspike; so that, what with the punishment received, and that which was promised, the fellow thought he might as well say no more about it. The fact is, that had it not been from fear of Mesty, the whole of the men would, in all probability, have behaved equally as bad; nevertheless, they were a little staggered, it must be owned, at seeing Jack play so good a stick with the handspike.
After this night Jack and Mesty kept watch and watch, and everything went on very well until they were nearly abreast of Carthagena, when a gale came on from the northward, and drove them out of sight of land. Sail after sail was reduced with difficulty from their having so few hands, and the gale blew for three days with great fury. The men were tired out and discontented. It was Jack's misfortune that he had but one good man with him: even the coxswain of the boat, although a fine-looking man, was worth nothing. Mesty was Jack's sheet-anchor.
The fourth day the gale moderated, but they had no idea where they were: they knew that they had been blown off, but how far they could not tell, and Jack now began to discover that a cruise at sea without knowledge of navigation was a more nervous thing than he had contemplated. However, there was no help for it. At night they wore the ships and stood on the other tack, and at daylight they perceived that they were close to some small islands, and much closer to some large rocks, against which the sea beat high, although the wind had subsided. Again was the helm put up, and they narrowly escaped. As soon as the sails were trimmed the men came aft and proposed that if they could find anchorage they should run into it, for they were quite tired out. This was true, and Jack consulted with Mesty, who thought it advisable to agree to the proposal.
That the islands were not inhabited was very evident. The only point to ascertain was, if there were good anchorage. The coxswain offered to go in the boat and examine; and, with four men, he set off, and in about an hour returned, stating that there was plenty of water, and that it was as smooth as a mill-pond, being land-locked on every side. As they could not weigh the bower-anchor they bent the kedge, and running in without accident, came to in a small bay, between the islands, in seven fathoms water. The sails were furled, and everything put in order by the seamen, who then took the boat and pulled on shore. "They might as well have asked leave," thought Jack. In an hour they returned, and, after a short discussion, came aft to our hero in a body.
The coxswain was spokesman. He said that they had had hard work, and required now to have some rest—that there were provisions on board for three months, so that there could not be any hurry, and that they had found they could pitch a tent very well on shore, and live there for a short time; and that, as there was no harm in getting drunk on shore, they expected that they might be allowed to take provisions and plenty of wine with them, and that the men had desired him to ask leave, because they were determined to go whether or no. Jack was about to answer with the handspike, but perceiving that the men had all put on their cutlasses, and had their pistols at their belts, he thought proper to consult Mesty, who, perceiving that resistance was useless, advised Jack to submit, observing that the sooner all the wine was gone the better, as there would be nothing done while it lasted.
Jack, therefore, very graciously told them that they should have their own way, and he would stay there as long as they pleased. Mesty gave them the keys of the provision-hatch, and told them, with a grin, to help themselves. The men then informed Jack that he and Mesty should stay on board and take care of the ship for them, and that they would take the Spaniard on shore to cook their victuals. But to this Jack observed that if he had not two hands he could not obey their orders, in case they wished him to come on shore for them. The men thought there was good argument in that observation, and therefore allowed Jack to retain the Spaniard, that he might be more prompt to their call from the beach. They then wished him good day, and begged that he would amuse himself with the "articles of war."
As soon as they had thrown a spare sail into the boat, with some spars to make a tent, and some bedding, they went down below, hoisted up two pipes of wine out of the three, a bag or two of biscuit, arms and ammunition, and as much of the salt provisions as they thought they might require. The boat being full, they shoved off with three cheers of derision. Jack was sensible to the compliment: he stood at the gangway, took off his hat, and made them a polite bow.
As soon as they were gone, Mesty grinned with his sharp-filed teeth, and looking at our hero, said:
"I tink I make um pay for all dis—stop a little; by de piper as played before Moses, but our turn come by-and-bye."
As for Jack, he said nothing, but he thought the more. In about an hour the men returned in the boat: they had forgotten many things they wanted—wood to make a fire, and several utensils; they helped themselves freely, and having now everything that they could think of, they again went on shore.
"How d—n lucky, we nebber tell dem about the dollars," said Mesty, as Jack and he were watching the motions of the men.
"It is, indeed," replied Jack; "not that they could spend them here."
"No, Massa Easy, but suppose they find all that money, they take boat and go away with it. Now, I hab them in my clutch—stop a little."
A narrow piece of salt pork had been left at the gangway: Jack, without knowing why, tossed it overboard; being almost all fat, it sank very gradually: Jack watched it as it disappeared, so did Mesty, both full of thought, when they perceived a dark object rising under it: it was a ground shark, who took it into his maw, sank down, and disappeared.
"What was that?" said Jack.
"That ground shark, Massa Easy—worst shark of all; you nebber see him till you feel him"; and Mesty's eyes sparkled with pleasure. "By de powers, they soon stop de mutiny; now I hab 'em."
Jack shuddered and walked away. During the day, the men on shore were seen to work hard, and make all the preparations before they abandoned themselves to the sensual gratification of intemperance. The tent was pitched, the fire was lighted, and all the articles taken on shore rolled up and stowed away in their places; they were seen to sit down and dine, for they were within hail of the ship, and then one of the casks of wine was spiled. In the meantime the Spaniard, who was a quiet lad, had prepared the dinner for Easy and his now only companion. The evening closed, and all was noise and revelry on shore; and as they danced, and sung, and tossed off the cans of wine by the light of the fire, as they hallooed and screamed, and became more and more intoxicated, Mesty turned to Jack with his bitter smile, and only said—
"Stop a little." At last the noise grew fainter, the fire died away, and gradually all was silent. Jack was still hanging over the gangway when Mesty came up to him. The new moon had just risen, and Jack's eyes were fixed upon it.
"Now, Massa Easy, please you come aft and lower down little boat; take your pistols, and then we go on shore and bring off the cutter; they all asleep now."
"But why should we leave them without a boat, Mesty?" for Jack thought of the sharks, and the probability of the men attempting to swim off.
"I tell you, sar, this night they get drunk, to-morrow they get drunk again, but drunken men never keep quiet,—suppose one man say to others, 'Let's go board and kill officer, and then we do as we please,' they all say yes, and they all come and do it. No, sar-must have boat—if not for your sake, I must hab it, save my own life anyhow, for they hate me and kill me first; by de powers, stop a little."
Jack felt the truth of Mesty's observation; he went aft with him, lowered down the small boat, and they hauled it alongside. Jack went down with Mesty into the cabin and fetched his pistols. "And the Spaniard, Mesty, can we leave him on board alone?"
"Yes, sar, he no got arms, and he see dat me have—but suppose he find arms he never dare do anything—I know de man."
Our hero and Mesty went into the boat and shoved off, pulling gently on shore; the men were in a state of intoxication, so as not to be able to move, much less hear. They cast off the cutter, towed her on board, and made her fast with the other boat astern.
"Now, sar, we may go to bed; to-morrow morning you will see."
"They have everything they require on shore," replied Easy, "all they could want with the cutter would be to molest us."
"Stop a little," replied Mesty. Jack and Mesty went to bed, and as a precaution against the Spaniard, which was hardly necessary, Mesty locked the cabin door but Mesty never forgot anything.
Jack slept little that night—had melancholy forebodings which he could not shake off; indeed, Jack had reflected so much since he had left the ship, he had had his eyes so much opened, and had felt what a responsibility he had taken by indulging himself in a whim of the moment, that it might be almost said, that in the course of one fortnight he had at once from a boy sprung up into a man. He was mortified and angry, but he was chiefly so with himself.
Mesty was up at daylight, and Jack soon followed him: they watched the party on shore, who had not yet left the tent. At last, just as Jack had finished his breakfast, one or two made their appearance; the men looked about them as if they were searching for something, and then walked down to the beach, to where the boat had been made fast. Jack looked at Mesty, who grinned, and answered with the words so often repeated—
"Stop a little."
The men then walked along the rocks until they were abreast of the ship.
"Ship ahoy!"
"Halloo," replied Mesty.
"Bring the boat ashore directly, with a beaker of water."
"I knew dat," cried Mesty, rubbing his hands with delight. "Massa Easy, you must tell them No."
"But why should I not give them water, Mesty?"
"Because, sar, den they take boat."
"Very true," replied Easy.
"Do you hear on board?" cried the coxswain, who was the man who hailed—"send the boat immediately, or we'll cut the throats of every mother's son of you, by God!"
"I shall not send the boat," replied Jack, who now thought Mesty was right.
"You won't—won't you?—then your doom's sealed," replied the man, walking up to the tent with the other. In a short time all the seamen turned out of the tent, bringing with them four muskets, which they had taken on shore with them.
"Good heavens! they are not, surely, going to fire at us, Mesty."
"Stop a little." The men then came down abreast of the ship, and the coxswain again hailed, and asked if they would bring the boat on shore.
"You must say, No, sar," replied Mesty.
"I feel I must," replied Jack; and then he answered the coxswain, "No."
The plan of the mutineers had been foreseen by the wily negro—it was to swim off to the boats which were riding astern, and to fire at him or Jack, if they attempted to haul them up alongside and defend them. To get into the boats, especially the smaller one, from out of the water was easy enough. Some of the men examined their priming and held the muskets at their hips all ready, with the muzzles towards the ship, while the coxswain and two men were throwing off their clothes.
"Stop, for God's sake, stop!" cried Jack. "The harbour is full of ground sharks,—it is, upon my soul!"
"Do you think to frighten us with ground sharks?" replied the coxswain; "keep under cover, my lads; Jack, give him a shot to prove we are in earnest, and every time he or that nigger show their heads, give them another, my lads."
"For God's sake, don't attempt to swim," said Jack, in an agony; "I will try some means to give you water."
"Too late now—you're doomed"; and the coxswain sprang off the rock into the sea, and was followed by two other men: at the same moment a musket was discharged, and the bullet whistled close to our hero's ear.
Mesty dragged Jack from the gangway, who was nearly fainting from agonising feelings. He sank on the deck for a moment, and then sprang up and ran to the port to look at the men in the water. He was just in time to see the coxswain raise himself with a loud yell out of the sea, and then disappear in a vortex, which was crimsoned with his blood.
Mesty threw down his musket in his hand, of which he had several already loaded, in case the men should have gained the boats.
"By the powers, dat no use now!" Jack had covered his face with his hands. But the tragedy was not complete: the other men, who were in the water, had immediately turned and made for the shore; but before they could reach it, two more of these voracious monsters, attracted by the blood of the coxswain, had flown to the spot, and there was a contention for the fragments of their bodies.
Mesty, who had seen this catastrophe, turned towards our hero, who still hid his face. "I'm glad he no see dat, anyhow," muttered Mesty.
"See what!" exclaimed Jack.
"Shark eat em all."
"Oh, horrid! horrid!" groaned our hero.
"Yes, sar, very horrid," replied Mesty, "and dat bullet at your head very horrid. Suppose the sharks no take them, what then? They kill us and the sharks have our body. I think that more horrid still."
"Mesty," replied Jack, seizing the negro convulsively by the arm, "it was not the sharks—it was I,—I who have murdered these men."
Mesty looked at Jack with surprise. "How dat possible?"
"If I had not disobeyed orders," replied our hero, panting for breath, "if I had not shown them the example of disobedience, this would not have happened. How could I expect submission from them? It's all my fault—I see it now-and, O God! when will the sight be blotted from my memory?"
"Massa Easy, I not understand that," replied Mesty: "I think you talk foolish-might as well say, suppose Ashantee men not make war, this not happen; for suppose Ashantee not make war, I not slave, I not run away,—I not come board Harpy—I not go in boat with you—I not hinder men from getting drunk—and dat why they make mutiny—and the mutiny why the shark take um?"
Jack made no reply, but he felt some consolation from the counter argument of the negro.
The dreadful death of the three mutineers appeared to have had a sensible effect upon their companions, who walked away from the beach with their heads down and with measured steps. They were now seen to be perambulating the island, probably in search of that water which they required. At noon, they returned to their tent, and soon afterwards were in a state of intoxication, hallooing and shouting as the day before. Towards the evening they came down to the beach abreast of the ship, each with a vessel in their hands, and perceiving that they had attracted the notice of our hero and Mesty, tossed the contents of the vessels up in the air to show that they had found water, and hooting and deriding, went back, dancing, leaping, and kicking up their heels, to renew their orgies, which continued till after midnight, when they were all stupefied as before.
The next day Jack had recovered from the first shock which the catastrophe had given him, and he called Mesty into the cabin to hold a consultation.
"Mesty, how is this to end?"
"How you mean, sar?—end here, or end on board of the Harpy?"
"The Harpy,—there appears little chance of our seeing her again—we are on a desolate island, or what is the same thing; but we will hope that it will be so: but how is this mutiny to end?"
"Massa Easy, suppose I please, I make it end very soon, but I not in a hurry."
"How do you mean, Mesty, not in a hurry?"
"Look, Massa Easy; you wish take a cruise, and I wish the same ting: now because mutiny you want to go back—but by all de powers, you tink that I, a prince in my own country, feel wish to go back and boil kettle for de young gentlemen. No, Massa Easy, gib me mutiny gib me anyting—but—once I was prince," replied Mesty, lowering his voice at the last few emphatic words.
"You must one of these days tell me your history," replied Jack; "but just now let us argue the point in question. How could you put an end to this mutiny?"
"By putting an end to all wine. Suppose I go shore after they all drunk, I spile the casks in three or four places, and in the morning all wine gone—den dey ab get sober, and beg pardon—we take dem on board, put away all arms, 'cept yours and mine, and I like to see the mutiny after dat. Blood and 'ounds—but I settle um, anyhow."
"The idea is very good, Mesty,—why should we not do so?"
"Because I not like run de risk to go ashore—all for what? to go back, boil de kettle for all gentlemans—I very happy here, Massa," replied Mesty, carelessly.
"And I am very miserable," replied Jack; "but, however, I am completely in your power, Mesty, and I must, I suppose, submit."
"What you say, Massa Easy—submit to me?—no sar, when you are on board Harpy as officer, you talk with me as friend, and not treat me as negro servant. Massa Easy, I feel—I feel what I am," continued Mesty, striking his bosom, "I feel it here—for all first time since I leave my country, I feel that I am someting; but, Massa Easy, I love my friend as much as I hate my enemy—and you nebber submit to me—I too proud to allow dat, 'cause, Massa Easy—I am a man—and once, I was a prince."
Although Mesty did not perhaps explain by words half so well as he did by his countenance the full tide of feeling which was overflowing in his heart, Jack fully understood and felt it. He extended his hand to Mesty, and said—
"Mesty—that you have been a prince, I care little about, although I doubt it not, because you are incapable of a lie; but you are a man, and I respect you, nay, I love you as a friend—and with my will we never part again."
Mesty took the hand offered by Jack. It was the first peace offering ever extended to him since he had been torn away from his native land—the first compliment, the first tribute, the first acknowledgment, perhaps, that he was not an inferior being; he pressed it in silence, for he could not speak; but could the feelings which were suffocating the negro but have been laid before sceptics, they must have acknowledged that at that moment they were all and only such as could do honour, not only to the prince, but even to the Christian. So much was Mesty affected with what had happened, that when he dropped the hand of our hero, he went down into the cabin, finding it impossible to continue the conversation, which was not renewed until the next morning.
"What is your opinion, Mesty? Tell me, and I will be governed by it."
"Den, sar, I tell you I tink it right that they first come and ask to come on board before you take them—and, sar, I tink it also right as we are but two and they are five, dat dey first eat all their provisions. Let 'em starve plenty, and den dey come on board tame enough."
"At all events," replied Jack, "the first overtures of some kind or another must come from them. I wish I had something to do—I do not much like this cooping up on board ship."
"Massa, why you no talk with Pedro?"
"Because I cannot speak Spanish."
"I know dat, and dat why I ask de question. You very sorry when you meet the two pretty women in the ship, you not able to talk with them, I guess that."
"I was very sorry, I grant," replied Jack.
"Well, Massa Easy, by and bye we see more Spanish girl. Why not talk all day with Pedro, and den you able to talk with dem."
"Upon my word, Mesty, I never had an idea of your value. I will learn all the Spanish that I can," replied Jack, who was glad to have employment found for him, and was quite disgusted with the articles of war.
As for the men on shore, they continued the same course as before, one day succeeded another, and without variety. It was, however, to be observed that the fire was now seldomer lighted, which proved their fuel scarce, and the weather was not so warm as it had been, for it was now October. Jack learnt Spanish from Pedro for a month, during which there was no appearance of submission on the part of the mutineers, who, for the first fortnight, when intoxicated, used to come down and fire at Jack or Mesty when they made their appearance. Fortunately drunken men are not good marksmen; but latterly this had been discontinued, because they had expended their ammunition, and they appeared to have almost forgotten that the ship was there, for they took no notice of her whatever.
On the other hand, Jack had decided that if he waited there a year the overtures should come from them who had mutinied; and now, having an occupation, he passed his time very quietly, and the days flew so fast that two months had actually been run off the calendar before he had an idea of it.
One evening as they were down in the cabin, for the evenings had now become very cold, Jack asked Mesty whether he had any objection to give him a history of his life. Mesty replied that if he wished he was ready to talk, and at a nod from our hero Mesty commenced as follows.
CHAPTER XV
In which mutiny, like fire, is quenched for
want of fuel and no want of water.
Although we have made the African negro hitherto talk in his own mixed jargon, yet, as we consider that, in a long narration, it will be tedious to the reader, we shall now translate the narrative part into good English, merely leaving the conversation with which it may be broken, in its peculiar dialect.
"The first thing I recollect," said Mesty, "is, that I was carried on the shoulders of a man with my legs hanging down before, and holding on by his head.
"Everyone used to look at me and get out of the way, as I rode through the town and market-place, so loaded with heavy gold ornaments that I could not bear them, and was glad when the women took them off; but as I grew older I became proud of them, because I knew that I was the son of a king. I lived happy. I did nothing but shoot my arrows, and I had a little sword which I was taught to handle, and the great captains who were about my father showed me how to kill my enemies. Sometimes I laid under the shady trees, sometimes I was with the women belonging to my father; sometimes I was with him and played with the skulls, and repeated the names of those to whom they had belonged, for in our country, when we kill our enemies, we keep their skulls as trophies.
"As I grew older, I did as I pleased; I beat the women and the slaves; I think I killed some of the latter—I know I did one, to try whether I could strike well with my two-handed sword made of hard and heavy wood,—but that is nothing in our country. I longed to be a great captain, and I thought of nothing else but war and fighting, and how many skulls I should have in my possession when I had a house and wives of my own, and I was no longer a boy. I went out in the woods to hunt, and I stayed for weeks. And one day I saw a panther basking in the sun, waving his graceful tail. I crept up softly till I was behind a rock within three yards of it, and drawing my arrow to the head, I pierced him through the body. The animal bounded up in the air, saw me, roared and made a spring, but I dropped behind the rock, and he passed over me. He turned again to me, but I had my knife ready, and, as he fixed his talons into my shoulder and breast, I pierced him to the heart. This was the happiest day of my life; I had killed a panther without assistance, and I had the wounds to show. Although I was severely hurt, I thought nothing of it. I took off the skin as my blood dropped down and mixed with that of the beast—but I rejoiced in it. Proudly did I go into the town dripping with gore and smarting with pain. Everyone extolled the feat, called me a hero and a great captain. I filed my teeth, and I became a man.
"From that day I ranked among the warriors, and, as soon as my wounds were healed, I went out to battle. In three fights I had gained five skulls, and when I returned they weighed me out gold. I then had a house and wives, and my father appointed me a Caboceer. I wore the plume of eagle and ostrich feathers, my dress was covered with fetishes, I pulled on the boots with bells, and with my bow and arrows slung on my back, my spear and blunderbuss, my knives and my double-handed sword, I led the men to battle and brought back skulls and slaves. Everyone trembled at my name, and, if my father threatened to send me out, gold-dust covered the floor of his hall of council—Now, I boil the kettle for the young gentlemen!
"There was one man I liked. He was not a warrior, or I should have hated him, but he was brought up with me in my father's house, and was a near relative. I was grave and full of pride, he was gay and fond of music; and although there was no music to me equal to the tom-tom, yet I did not always wish for excitement. I often was melancholy, and then I liked to lay my head in the lap of one of my wives, under the shady forest behind my house, and listen to his soft music. At last he went to a town near us where his father lived, and as he departed I gave him gold-dust. He had been sent to my father to be formed into a warrior, but he had no strength of body, and he had no soul; still I loved him, because he was not like myself. There was a girl in the town who was beautiful; many asked for her as their wife, but her father had long promised her to my friend; he refused even the greatest warrior of the place, who went away in wrath to the fetishman, and throwing him his gold armlets asked for a fetish against his rival. It was given, and two days before he was to be married my friend died. His mother came to me, and it was enough. I put on my war dress, I seized my weapons, sat for a whole day with my skulls before me, working up my revenge, called out my men, and that night set off for the town where the warrior resided, killed two of his relatives and carried off ten of his slaves. When he heard what I had done, he trembled and sent gold; but I knew that he had taken the girl home as his wife, and I would not listen to the old man who sought to pacify me.
"Again I collected a larger force and attacked him in the night: we fought, for he was prepared with his men, but after a struggle he was beaten back. I fired his house, wasted his provision ground, and taking away more slaves, I returned home with my men, intending soon to assault him again. The next day there came more messengers, who knelt in vain; so they went to my father, and many warriors begged him to interfere. My father sent for me, but I would not listen; the warriors spoke, and I turned my back: my father was wroth and threatened, the warriors brandished their two-handed swords—they dared to do it; I looked over my shoulder with contempt, and I returned to my house. I took down my skulls, and I planned. It was evening, and I was alone, when a woman covered up to the eyes approached; she fell down before me as she exposed her face.
"I am the girl who was promised to your relation, and I am now the wife of your enemy. I shall be a mother. I could not love your relation, for he was no warrior. It is not true that my husband asked for a fetish—it was I who bought it, for I would not wed him. Kill me and be satisfied.
"She was very beautiful, and I wondered not that my enemy loved her—and she was with child—it was his child, and she had fetished my friend to death. I raised my sword to strike, and she did not shrink: it saved her life. 'Thou art fit to be the mother of warriors,' said I, as I dropped my sword, 'and thou shalt be my wife, but first his child shall be born, and I will have thy husband's skull.'
"'No, no,' replied she, 'I will be the mother of no warriors but by my present husband, whom I love; if you keep me as your slave I will die.'
"I told her she said foolish things, and sent her to the women's apartment, with orders to be watched—but she hardly had been locked up before she drew her knife, plunged it into her heart, and died.
"When the king my father heard this he sent me a message—'Be satisfied with the blood that has been shed, it is enough'; but I turned away, for I wished for mine enemy's skull. That night I attacked him again, and met him hand to hand; I killed him, and carried home his skull, and I was appeased.
"But all the great warriors were wroth, and my father could not restrain them. They called out their men, and I called out my men, and I had a large body, for my name was terrible. But the force raised against me was twice that of mine, and I retreated to the bush—after awhile we met and fought, and I killed many, but my men were too few, and were overpowered—the fetish had been sent out against me, and their hearts melted; at last I sank down with my wounds, for I bled at every pore, and I told my men who were about me to take off my feathers, and my dress and boots, that my enemies might not have my skull: they did so, and I crawled into the bush to die. But I was not to die; I was recovering, when I was discovered by those who steal men to sell them: I was bound, and fastened to a chain with many more. I, a prince and a warrior, who could show the white skulls of his enemies—I offered to procure gold, but they derided me; they dragged me down to the coast, and sold me to the Whites. Little did I think, in my pride, that I should be a slave. I knew that I was to die, and hoped to die in battle: my skull would have been more prized than all the gold in the earth, and my skin would have been stuffed and hung up in a fetish-house—instead of which, I now boil the kettle for the young gentlemen!"
"Well," replied Jack, "that's better than being killed and stuffed."
"Mayhap it is," replied Mesty, "I tink very different now dan I tink den—but still, it women's work and not suit me."
"They put me with others into a cave until the ship came, and then we were sent on board, put in irons, and down in the hold, where you could not sit upright—I wanted to die, but could not: others died every day, but I lived—I was landed in America, all bone, and I fetched very little money—they laughed at me, as they bid their dollars: at last a man took me away, and I was on a plantation with hundreds more, but too ill to work, and not intending to work. The other slaves asked me if I was a fetish man; I said yes, and I would fetish any man that I did not like: one man laughed, and I held up my finger; I was too weak to get up, for my blood had long boiled with fever, and I said to him 'you shall die'; for I meant to have killed him as soon as I was well.
"He went away, and in three days he was dead. I don't know how, but all the slaves feared me, and my master feared me, for he had seen the man die, and he, although he was a white man, believed in fetish, and he wished to sell me again, but no one would buy a fetish man, so he made friends with me; for I told him if I was beat he should die, and he believed me. He took me into his house, and I was his chief man, and I would not let the other slaves steal and he was content. He took me with him to New York, and there, after two years, when I had learnt English, I ran away, and got on board of an English ship—and they told me to cook. I left the ship as soon as I came to England, and offered myself to another, and they said they did not want a cook; and I went to another, and they asked me if I was a good cook: everybody seemed to think that a black man must be a cook, and nothing else. At last I starve, and I go on board a man-of-war, and here I am, after having been a warrior and a prince, cook, steward and everything else, boiling kettle for de young gentlemen."
"Well," replied Jack, "at all events that is better than being a slave." Mesty made no reply: anyone who knows the life of a midshipman's servant will not be surprised at his silence.
"Now, tell me, do you think you were right in being so revengeful, when you were in your own country?" inquired Jack.
"I tink so den, Massa Easy; sometimes when my blood boil, I tink so now—oder time, I no know what to tink—but when a man love very much, he hate very much."
"But you are now a Christian, Mesty."
"I hear all that your people say," replied the negro, "and it make me tink—I no longer believe in fetish, anyhow."
"Our religion tells us to love our enemies."
"Yes, I heard parson say dat—but den what we do with our friends, Massa Easy?"
"Love them too."
"I no understand dat, Massa Easy—I love you, because you good, and treat me well—Mr Vigors, he bully, and treat me ill—how possible to love him? By de power, I hate him, and wish I had him skull. You tink little Massa Gossett love him?"
"No," replied Jack, laughing, "I'm afraid that he would like to have his skull as well as you, Mesty—but at all events we must try and forgive those who injure us."
"Then, Massa Easy, I tink so too—too much revenge very bad—it very easy to hate, but not very easy to forgive—so I tink that if a man forgive, he hab more soul in him, he more of a man."
"After all," thought Jack, "Mesty is about as good a Christian as most people."
"What that?" cried Mesty, looking out of the cabin window—"Ah! d—n drunken dogs—they set fire to tent."
Jack looked, and perceived that the tent on shore was in flames. "I tink these cold nights cool their courage, anyhow," observed—"Massa Easy, you see they soon ask permission to come on board."
Jack thought so too, and was most anxious to be off; for, on looking into the lockers in the state-room, he had found a chart of the Mediterranean, which he had studied very attentively—he had found out the rock of Gibraltar, and had traced the Harpy's course up to Cape de Catte, and thence to Tarragona—and, after a while, had summoned Mesty to a cabinet council.
"See, Mesty," said Jack, "I begin to make it out, here is Gibraltar, and Cape de Catte, and Tarragona—it was hereabout we were when we took the ship, and, if you recollect, we had passed Cape de Gatte two days before we were blown off from the land, so that we had gone about twelve inches, and had only four more to go."
"Yes, Massa Easy, I see all dat."
"Well, then, we were blown off shore by the wind, and must of course have come down this way; and here you see are three little islands, called Zaffarine Islands, and with no names of towns upon them, and therefore uninhabited; and you see they lie just like the islands we are anchored among now—we must be at the Zaffarine Islands—and only six inches from Gibraltar."
"I see, Massa Easy, dat all right—but six debbelish long inches."
"Now, Mesty, you know the compass on deck has a flourishing thing for the north point—and here is a compass with a north point also. Now the north point from the Zaffarine Islands leads out to the Spanish coast again, and Gibraltar lies five or six points of the compass to this side of it—if we steer that way we shall get to Gibraltar."
"All right, Massa Easy," replied Mesty, and Jack was right, with the exception of the variation, which he knew nothing about.
To make sure, Jack brought one of the compasses down from deck, and compared them. He then lifted off the glass, counted the points of the compass to the westward, and marked the corresponding one on the binnacle compass with his pen.
"There," said he, "that is the way to Gibraltar, and as soon as the mutiny is quelled, and the wind is fair, I'll be off."
CHAPTER XVI
In which Jack's cruise is ended, and he regains the Harpy.
A few more days passed, and, as was expected, the mutineers could hold out no longer. In the first place, they had put in the spile of the second cask of wine so loosely when they were tipsy that it dropped out, and all the wine ran out, so that there had been none left for three or four days; in the next their fuel had long been expended, and they had latterly eaten their meat raw: the loss of their tent, which had been fired by their carelessness, had been followed by four days and nights of continual rain. Everything they had had been soaked through and through, and they were worn out, shivering with cold, and starving. Hanging they thought better than dying by inches from starvation; and yielding to the imperious demands of hunger, they came down to the beach, abreast of the ship, and dropped down on their knees.
"I tell you so, Massa Easy," said Mesty: "d—n rascals, they forget they come down fire musket at us every day: by all de powers, Mesty not forget it."
"Ship ahoy!" cried one of the men on shore.
"What do you want?" replied Jack.
"Have pity on us, sir—mercy!" exclaimed the other men, "we will return to our duty."
"Debble doubt 'em!" "What shall I say, Mesty?"
"Tell 'em no, first, Massa Easy—tell 'em to starve and be d——d."
"I cannot take mutineers on board," replied Jack.
"Well, then, our blood be on your hands, Mr Easy," replied the first man who had spoken.
"If we are to die, it must not be by inches—if you will not take us, the sharks shall—it is but a crunch, and all is over. What do you say, my lads? let's all rush in together: good-bye, Mr Easy, I hope you'll forgive us when we're dead: it was all that rascal Johnson, the coxswain, who persuaded us. Come, my lads, it's no use thinking of it, the sooner done the better—let us shake hands, and then make one run of it."
It appeared that the poor fellows had already made up their minds to do this, if our hero, persuaded by Mesty, had refused to take them on board; they shook hands all round, and then walking a few yards from the beach, stood in a line while the man gave the signal—one—two—
"Stop," cried Jack, who had not forgotten the dreadful scene which had already taken place—"stop."
The men paused.
"What will you promise if I take you on board?"
"To do our duty cheerfully till we join the ship, and then be hung as an example to all mutineers," replied the men.
"Dat very fair," replied Mesty; "take dem at their word, Massa Easy."
"Very well," replied Jack, "I accept your conditions; and we will come for you."
Jack and Mesty hauled up the boat, stuck their pistols in their belts, and pulled to the shore. The men, as they stepped in, touched their hats respectfully to our hero, but said nothing. On their arrival on board, Jack read that part of the articles of war relative to mutiny, by which the men were reminded of the very satisfactory fact, "that they were to suffer death"; and then made a speech which, to men who were starving, appeared to be interminable. However, there is an end to everything in this world, and so there was to Jack's harangue; after which Mesty gave them some biscuit, which they devoured in thankfulness, until they could get something better.
The next morning the wind was fair, they weighed their kedge with some difficulty, and ran out of the harbour: the men appeared very contrite, worked well, but in silence, for they had no very pleasant anticipations; but hope always remains with us; and each of the men, although he had no doubt but that the others would be hung, hoped that he would escape with a sound flogging. The wind, however, did not allow them to steer their course long; before night it was contrary, and they fell off three points to the northward. "However," as Jack observed, "at all events we shall make the Spanish coast, and then we must run down it to Gibraltar: I don't care—I understand navigation much better than I did."
The next morning they found themselves with a very light breeze, under a high cape, and, as the sun rose, they observed a large vessel in-shore, about two miles to the westward of them, and another outside, about four miles off. Mesty took the glass and examined the one outside, which, on a sudden, had let fall all her canvas, and was now running for the shore, steering for the cape under which Jack's vessel lay. Mesty put down the glass.
"Massa Easy—I tink dat de Harpy." One of the seamen took the glass and examined her, while the others who stood by showed great agitation.
"Yes, it is the Harpy," said the seaman. "Oh! Mr Easy, will you forgive us?" continued the man, and he and the others fell on their knees. "Do not tell all, for God's sake, Mr Easy."
Jack's heart melted; he looked at Mesty. "I tink," said Mesty, apart to our hero, "dat with what them hab suffer already, suppose they get seven dozen a-piece, dat quite enough."
Jack thought that even half that punishment would suffice; so he told the men, that although he must state what had occurred, he would not tell all, and would contrive to get them off as well as he could. He was about to make a long speech, but a gun from the Harpy, which had now come up within range, made him defer it till a more convenient opportunity. At the same time the vessel in-shore hoisted Spanish colours and fired a gun.
"By de powers but we got in the middle of it," cried Mesty; "Harpy tink us Spaniard. Now, my lads, get all gun ready, bring up powder and shot. Massa, now us fire at Spaniard—Harpy not fire at us—no ab English colours on board—dat all we must do."
The men set to with a will; the guns were all loaded, and were soon cast loose and primed, during which operations it fell calm, and the sails of all three vessels flapped against their masts. The Harpy was then about two miles from Jack's vessel, and the Spaniard about a mile from him, with all her boats ahead of her, towing towards him; Mesty examined the Spanish vessel.
"Dat man-of-war, Massa Easy,—what de debbel we do for colour? must hoist something." Mesty ran down below; he recollected that there was a very gay petticoat, which had been left by the old lady who was in the vessel when they captured her. It was of green silk, with yellow and blue flowers, but very faded, having probably been in the Don's family for a century. Mesty had found it under the mattress of one of the beds, and had put it into his bag, intending probably to cut it up into waistcoats. He soon appeared with this under his arm, made it fast to the peak halyards and hoisted it up.
"Dere, Massa, dat do very well—dat what you call 'all nation colour.' Everybody strike him flag to dat—men nebber pull it down," said Mesty, "anyhow. Now den, ab hoist colour, we fire away—mind you only fire one gun at a time, and point um well, den ab time to load again."
"She's hoisted her colours, sir," said Sawbridge, on board of the Harpy; "but they do not show out clear, and it's impossible to distinguish them; but there's a gun."
"It's not at us, sir," said Gascoigne, the midshipman; "it's at the Spanish vessel—I saw the shot fall ahead of her."
"It must be a privateer," said Captain Wilson; "at all events, it is very fortunate, for the corvettes would otherwise have towed into Carthagena. Another gun, round and grape, and well pointed too; she carries heavy metal, that craft: she must be a Maltese privateer."
"That's as much as to say that she's a pirate," replied Sawbridge; "I can make nothing of her colours—they appear to me to be green—she must be a Turk. Another gun—and devilish well aimed; it has hit the boats."
"Yes, they are all in confusion: we will have her now, if we can only get a trifle of wind. That is a breeze coming up in the offing. Trim the sails, Mr Sawbridge."
The yards were squared, and the Harpy soon had steerage-way. In the meantime Jack and his few men had kept up a steady, well-directed, although slow, fire with their larboard guns upon the Spanish corvette; and two of her boats had been disabled. The Harpy brought the breeze up with her, and was soon within range; she steered to cut off the corvette, firing only on her bow-chasers.
"We ab her now," cried Mesty; "fire away men, take good aim. Breeze come now; one man go to helm. By de power what dat?"
The exclamation of Mesty was occasioned by a shot hulling the ship on the starboard side. Jack and he ran over, and perceived that three Spanish gun-boats had just made their appearance round the point, and had attacked them. The fact was, that on the other side of the cape was the port and town of Carthagena, and these gun-boats had been sent out to the assistance of the corvette. The ship had now caught the breeze, fortunately for Jack, or he would probably have been taken into Carthagena; and the corvette, finding herself cut off by both the Harpy and Jack's vessel, as soon as the breeze came up to her, put her head the other way, and tried to escape by running westward along the coast close in-shore.
Another shot, and then another, pierced the hull of the ship, and wounded two of Jack's men; but as the corvette had turned, and the Harpy followed her, of course Jack did the same, and in ten minutes he was clear of the gun-boats, who did not venture to make sail and stand after him. The wind now freshened fast, and blew out the green petticoat, but the Harpy was exchanging broadsides with the corvette, and too busy to look after Jack's ensign. The Spaniard defended himself well, and had the assistance of the batteries as he passed, but there was no anchorage until he had run many miles further.
About noon, the wind died away, and at one o'clock it again fell nearly calm; but the Harpy had neared her distance, and was now within three cables' length of her antagonist, engaging her and a battery of four guns. Jack came up again, for he had the last of the breeze, and was about half a mile from the corvette when it fell calm. By the advice of Mesty, he did not fire anymore, as otherwise the Harpy would not obtain so much credit, and it was evident that the fire of the Spaniard slackened fast. At three o'clock the Spanish colours were hauled down, and the Harpy, sending a boat on board and taking possession, directed her whole fire upon the battery, which was soon silenced.
The calm continued, and the Harpy was busy enough with the prize, shifting the prisoners and refitting both vessels, which had very much suffered in the sails and rigging. There was an occasional wonder on board the Harpy what that strange vessel might be, who had turned the corvette and enabled them to capture her, but when people are all very busy, there is not much time for surmise.
Jack's crew, with himself, consisted but of eight, one of which was a Spaniard, and two were wounded. It therefore left him but four, and he had also something to do, which was to assist his wounded men, and secure his guns. Moreover, Mesty did not think it prudent to leave the vessel a mile from the Harpy with only two on board; besides, as Jack said, he had had no dinner, and was not quite sure that he should find anything to eat when he went into the midshipmen's berth; he would therefore have some dinner cooked, and eat it before he went on board; in the meantime, they would try and close with her. Jack took things always very easy, and he said he should report himself at sunset. There were other reasons which made Jack in no very great hurry to go on board; he wanted to have time to consider a little, what he should say to excuse himself, and also how he should plead for the men. His natural correctness of feeling decided him, in the first place, to tell the whole truth; and in the next, his kind feelings determined him to tell only part of it. Jack need not have given himself this trouble, for, as far as regarded himself, he had fourteen thousand good excuses in the bags that lay in the state-room; and as for the men, after an action with the enemy, if they behave well, even mutiny is forgiven. At last, Jack, who was tired with excitement and the hard work of the day, thought and thought until he fell fast asleep, and instead of waking at sunset, did not wake till two hours afterwards; and Mesty did not call him, because he was in no hurry himself to go on board "and boil de kettle for de young gentlemen."
When Jack woke up, he was astonished to find that he had slept so long; he went on deck; it was dark and still calm, but he could easily perceive that the Harpy and corvette were still hove-to, repairing damages. He ordered the men to lower down the small boat, and leaving Mesty in charge, with two oars he pulled to the Harpy. What with wounded men, with prisoners, and boats going and coming between the vessels, everyone on board the Harpy were well employed; and in the dark, Jack's little boat came alongside without notice. This should not have been the case, but it was, and there was some excuse for it. Jack ascended the side, and pushed his way through the prisoners, who were being mustered to be victualled. He was wrapped up in one of the gregos, and many of the prisoners wore the same.
Jack was amused at not being recognised; he slipped down the main ladder, and had to stoop under the hammocks of the wounded men, and was about to go aft to the captain's cabin to report himself, when he heard young Gossett crying out, and the sound of the rope. "Hang me, if that brute Vigors ain't thrashing young Gossett," thought Jack. "I dare say the poor fellow has had plenty of it since I have been away; I'll save him this time, at least." Jack, wrapped up in his grego, went to the window of the berth, looked in, and found it was as he expected. He cried out in an angry voice, Mr Vigors, I'll thank you to leave Gossett alone. At the sound of the voice, Vigors turned round with his colt in his hand, saw Jack's face at the window, and, impressed with the idea that the re-appearance was supernatural, uttered a wail and fell down in a fit—little Gossett also, trembling in every limb, stared with his mouth open. Jack was satisfied, and immediately disappeared. He then went aft to the cabin, pushed by the servant, who was giving some orders from the captain to the officer on deck, and entering the cabin, where the captain was seated with two Spanish officers, took off his hat and said,—
"Come on board, Captain Wilson."
Captain Wilson did not fall down in a fit, but he jumped up, and upset the glass before him. "Merciful God, Mr Easy, where did you come from?"
"From that ship astern, sir," replied Jack. "That ship astern! what is she?—where have you been so long?"
"It's a long story, sir," replied Jack. Captain Wilson extended his hand and shook Jack's heartily. "At all events, I'm delighted to see you, boy: now sit down and tell me your story in a few words; we will have it in detail by-and-bye."
"If you please, sir," said Jack, "we captured that ship with the cutter the night after we went away—I'm not a first-rate navigator, and I was blown to the Zaffarine Islands, where I remained two months for want of hands: as soon as I procured them I made sail again—I have lost three men by sharks, and I have two wounded in to-day's fight—the ship mounts twelve guns, is half laden with lead and cotton prints, has fourteen thousand dollars in the cabin, and three shot-holes right through her—and the sooner you send some people on board of her the better."
This was not very intelligible, but that there were fourteen thousand dollars and that she required hands sent on board, was very satisfactorily explained. Captain Wilson rang the bell, sent for Mr Asper, who started back at the sight of our hero—desired him to order Mr Jolliffe to go on board with one of the cutters, send the wounded men on board, and take charge of the vessel, and then told Jack to accompany Mr Jolliffe, and to give him every information: telling him that he would hear his story to-morrow, when they were not so very busy.