With loud cheers they advanced; but Jack guessed that they had something in store which would astonish the blacks much more than the round shot; nor was he mistaken. Up flew, whizzing into the air, a shower of rockets, which came down quickly into the middle of the fort, and made both Spaniards and negroes scamper here and there at a great rate, knocking each other over, shrieking out oaths and prayers in a variety of dialects, and trying to hide themselves from their terrific pursuers. It was as if a number of wriggling serpents had been turned loose among a crowd of people. The old Spaniard stamped and swore with rage, calling the people back to their guns, abusing them, and firing his pistols right and left at them to bring them to order. Jack ran a great risk of being shot in the melée, either by friends or foes. Oh, how he wished that the former knew the state of affairs inside the fort, and would make a dash at that moment and get into it! It was high tide, and the water covered the mudbanks. The favourable moment was, however, lost, and by the fierce energy of the little old Spaniard the defenders of the fort were driven back to their guns. Jack pretended to be very busy loading his. He had managed to get in a shot during the confusion, and one of the blacks next rammed in the powder and put another shot in after it. “All right! now blaze away, my hearty!” he sung out. He had piled up a good quantity of powder over the touch-hole, so there was an abundance of smoke, and the negro whom he addressed fully believed that the gun had gone off.
“Now, more powder and shot, old boy,” cried Jack; “ram away!”
Jack’s gun was not likely to hurt his friends, but had the old Spaniard seen his tricks, he would very likely have had another bullet fired at him. Fortunately the old fellow was too much engaged. The whole fort was full of smoke, and the defenders, having got over their first alarm at the rockets, were blazing away with all their might. Jack caught sight of the boats for an instant, separating on either hand so as to avoid the direct fire from the fort, and then he heard in another minute that true hearty British cheer, which has so often struck terror into the hearts of England’s enemies. On either flank there came pouring into the fort a fresh flight of rockets, and almost the next instant Jack saw the boats’ bows run stem on to the mudbank, which almost surrounded the fort. In vain the seamen endeavoured to shove the boats over it—they stuck fast. Jack shouted as loud as he could, in hopes that his voice might be heard, for he caught a glimpse of Alick Murray in one of the boats and Paddy Adair in another, using every effort to get up to the stockade. Perhaps they heard him, for he saw them leap overboard, followed by their men, with the intention clearly of wading up to the stockade, ignorant of course of the deep ditch between them and it. Jack felt sure that they would be shot down by the blacks if they made the attempt. He could restrain himself no longer, but ran towards them shouting out, “Back, back! you can’t get in that way!” Whether they heard him or not he could not tell, for a heavy blow on the head was dealt him by the butt-end of a pistol, the owner of which, one of his Spanish friends, would certainly have shot him had it been loaded, and he fell to the ground, stunned and helpless. How long he thus lay he could not tell. It could not have been for any length of time, for the battle was still raging when he came to his senses. He instantly crawled to one of the embrasures, and looked out. The English had suffered severely. One boat lay on the mud, disabled, and the dead bodies of several men strewed the mud bank, which the falling tide had left dry. Then he turned his head, for he heard loud cheers and shouts, and cries and howls, on one side of the fort. A fresh attack he suspected had just been made. It was resisted with all the desperation of despair by most of the Spaniards and many of the blacks. The British were forcing their way in. He caught sight of the heads of the seamen surmounting the stockade, and then he saw that it was Alick Murray leading them on. The spectacle gave him fresh life. He jumped on his legs and gave a loud huzza. He had better have been silent. The old Spaniard, who had been flying about in every direction with the most wonderful activity, encouraging the people, pointing the guns, and showing himself the leading spirit of the gang, caught sight of him. It had now become evident that the fort would be taken; there was but one outlet by which the gang could escape; the ruffians began to give way. Numbers were wounded; many lay dead on the ground. Several of the fugitives passed him. He was hoping that the moment of his deliverance was at hand, when he felt his shoulder grasped by the little old Spaniard, and found himself dragged along by a power he could not resist. He struggled, but struggled in vain. Small as the old man was, he was all sinew and muscle; his clutch was like that of a vice. There was a fierce rush, blacks, Spaniards, and mulattoes were all mingled together; and good reason they had to run, for at their heels came fast a body of English seamen, slashing away with their cutlasses, and firing their pistols. Hemming, Murray, and Adair were leading them, and Jack recognised some of the officers of his own ship, the Ranger. He now knew how it was the expedition had been strengthened. He sought to escape from his captor. “If you shout I’ll shoot you!” said the old man, in English, grinning horribly. He was in hopes his old schoolfellows would have recognised him. Back he was hurried. Still he felt sure that his friends would overtake him. The retreating villains had got close to the barracoons, and not far from the last entrance to the fort. The seamen pressed on. There was still some space between the parties, when the old man fired his pistol into a cask sunk into the ground; a thick smoke came out of it. Back, back the pirates pushed. In an instant more a dense mass rose before them of earth, and stone, and timbers, horribly mingled with the arms and legs and bodies of human beings: a mine had been sprung. Jack was in an agony of fear for the fate of his friends. He could see nothing of them. He observed only that the mine had taken effect under one end of the barracoon. The terrible shrieks and cries of its wretched inmates rung in his ears. A large number of them had been liberated, and with loud yells were following in the rear of the slave-dealers, for whom they served as an effective shield against the shot of the seamen. The slaves had been told that the English would kill them, so they ran away, as soon as they were let out of the barracoons, as fast as the rest. The piratical crew, for such they really were, took their way up the hill, towards the king’s residence, followed closely by the slaves, and all the rabble who had escaped out of the fort. Jack expected that his friends would have pursued, and should he escape the pistol of the old gentlemen who had him by the arm, he hoped before long to be rescued. They had not, however, got far up the hill, when he saw flames burst forth from the barracoons, in which he knew, judging from those following, that a number of poor wretches had been left in chains, and he truly guessed that his countrymen were stopping to try and rescue them. The flames burst fiercely, and blazed up high, as they caught the dry inflammable timber of which the building was composed. Nothing could arrest their progress. The gallant seamen he knew would be dashing in among them in spite of the hot smoke, and doing their best to rescue the unfortunate wretches, but he feared that few would be saved. Even where he was he could hear their piteous shrieks, as the flames caught hold of them, chained as they were, and unable to escape. As was too likely, the pirates had set fire to the barracoon on purpose to delay the English; this plan succeeded perfectly. Often the same sort of thing has been done at sea, and when a slaver has been hard-pressed, blacks have been thrown overboard by the crew, to induce the English cruiser to stop and pick them up, and thus enable them to escape. Jack was dragged away up the hill, through the gateway of the town, and into the king’s palace. That worthy was seated where Jack had first seen him, and employed much in the same way—smoking a pipe.
“Why have you brought him?” enquired his sable majesty of the little old Spaniard, whom Jack heard addressed as Don Diego.
“He will serve as a hostage—they have got some of our people,” was the answer.
“But will they give us back any of the slaves?” asked the king.
“Not one—whatever we may threaten,” replied the Don, grinding his teeth. “They will not have got many, that is one comfort. A considerable number came with us, and most of those we were unable to set loose have been burnt. Our enemies have not gained much by their victory in any way, for we killed a good many of them, and destroyed some of their boats. We have had a desperate fight of it, though.”
“It may be as well then not to kill the youngster, though it might be a satisfaction to you,” said the king, looking at the Don.
“Not for the present,” said Don Diego. “We will keep him for a short time, and see how high his friends value him. If they refuse to give enough in exchange for him, as he can be of no use here, we can then shoot him!”
Jack, of course, could not understand all this conversation; but he made out enough to comprehend its tenor, which was certainly not of a character to enliven him. After a little time he found himself hauled out of the king’s presence and thrust into a small hut by himself. A black, with a brace of pistols in his belt, and a musket which looked as if it would go off, was placed sentry over him. He either would not, or probably could not, reply to any of the questions Jack put to him, whenever he thrust his head in at the door, apparently to ascertain that his prisoner was all safe.
Thus passed the day. Towards the evening Jack began to be very hungry and very sick, and to wonder whether he was to be starved to death. He pointed to his mouth, and made every sign he could think of to show that he was hungry; but the sentry appeared to take no notice of him. At last, however, another man opened the door and placed a bowl of farinha before him. It was not very dainty fare, but he was too sharp set to be particular, and so set to on it at once and gobbled away till he had finished it. He was wondering whether he should have to sleep on the bare ground, when the same man appeared with a bundle of Indian corn and other leaves, and threw them down in the corner, making a sign that they were to serve him as his bed. “Thank you, old fellow; I might go farther and fare worse.” His spirits rose somewhat, for he judged rightly that his captors would not take so much trouble about him had they intended to murder him. He did not forget how mercifully his life had been preserved during the day, and he offered up his thanks on high before he threw himself on his bed of leaves to go to sleep. He slept as soundly as a top all night, and when he awoke he could scarcely remember what had occurred during the previous day. Before long his former attendant appeared, and placed another bowl of farinha before him. Hours passed away; no one else came near him. It was some time in the afternoon when two armed blacks appeared, and marched Jack out of his prison up to the king’s palace. The king scarcely took any notice of him as he entered the reception room. Soon after Don Diego appeared.
“Will they give up the slaves?” asked the king.
“Not a bit of it,” answered Don Diego. “They say that if we kill that lad, then they will kill six times as many people of ours.”
“That can’t be helped,” observed the king. “The people were born to be killed.”
“Certainly,” answered Don Diego; “but there are some Spaniards among them; and I require their services.”
“But is it not possible that they may come and burn my town? I have no wish for that to happen, even for your sake, my friend,” said the king.
“Shoot the midshipman if they do,” answered Don Diego, turning a not very pleasant glance at Jack. “At present, however, they do not seem disposed to attack us. We have given them enough to attend to for the present. We killed a good number, and the boats have gone back with the wounded and prisoners.”
“Then the young jackanapes of an officer may be shut up in prison again,” said the king.
Scarcely had the order been given when a Spaniard rushed with fierce gestures into the room. “Those English have killed some of our friends, and we are resolved to have our revenge,” he exclaimed, looking savagely at Jack, and handling his long knife.
“Don’t kill him yet, though,” said Don Diego with his usual coolness; “it will be time enough when he is of no further use. Take him away now.”
These were not exactly the words Jack heard used, but he made out that such was their tenor.
Poor Jack! He was thrust rudely back into his dark dirty hut, but the only food he received was a bowl of ill-dressed farinha, of which he was getting heartily tired. His spirits began to fall lower than they had ever done before. He saw no hope of escape; for he was certain that should the English threaten to attack the fort, that instant he would be put to death, even should he escape the long knives of some of the Spaniards, who had evidently a hankering for his blood. At last he fell asleep. Midshipmen have a knack of sleeping under the most adverse circumstances. His powers in that way were very considerable. It was daylight when he awoke; but there were no sounds to indicate that the negro population was astir. He could not help fancying that some attempt would be made by Captain Lascelles and Captain Grant to rescue him; but the day passed on, and no one except the man who brought him his insipid farinha came near him. If he had had any mode in which to employ himself, he could, he thought, have the better borne his imprisonment and the dreadful state of suspense in which he was placed. Night came again. He was more melancholy than ever. He thought that he was deserted, or that probably his friends fancied he was killed, and would not trouble themselves further about him. He had no inclination to sleep even after it grew dark. He listened to the various noises in the village, or rather city it should be called. They amused him somewhat—the odd tones of the negroes’ voices, the shouts, the laughter, the cries of babies, the barking of curs, the beating of tom-toms. At last, however, even they ceased, and he dozed away till he forgot where he was and everything that had happened. How long he had slept he could not tell; or rather, had he been asked, he would have asserted that he had not been asleep at all, when he opened his eyes and saw by the light of the moon, which shone through a hole in the roof, the round face of a black boy looking down upon him with a friendly and compassionate expression.
* * *
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Chapter Fifteen.
Three of the Archer’s boats were manned, and, under the command of Lieutenant Hemming, Murray having charge of the one, and Adair of the other, were about to shove off and proceed up the river to search for their missing shipmates, when a sail was seen from the mast-head standing down toward them. She was quickly made out to be a large ship, and in a short time little doubt remained that she was an English frigate. Captain Grant therefore ordered the boats to delay their departure that a more powerful expedition might be forthwith dispatched to compete with any enemies with whom they might fall in. “Hurra! she’s our own ship the Ranger,” exclaimed Adair, who had gone aloft to have a look at the stranger, and now came below to make his report to Hemming; “Captain Lascelles is just the man to back up Captain Grant; if he knows of any barracoons or slavers’ strongholds of any description, he will be for going in and blowing them all up without a moment’s delay.”
