When the boat reached the mouth of the river, the frigate was nowhere to be seen. “Then, Paddy,” exclaimed Jack, clutching his rifle, “let us have a cruise on our own hook. You remember the prize you took among the Ionian Islands, old fellow?” How merrily they laughed at the recollection of that early freak of theirs. Paddy, of course, was delighted to join in any scheme of Jack’s. They could not tell in which direction the frigate had gone. They, at a hazard, steered to the southward. They had a good supply of provisions in the boat, and King Bom-Bom had given them still more. All that day they looked out anxiously for a sail, but sighted none. The greater part of the next passed much in the same manner. They were growing impatient. It is not pleasant to have to sit cramped up in a small boat under a burning sun off the coast of Africa with nothing to do.
“It’s very hot,” observed Paddy.
A truism to which Jack replied briefly, “Very.”
I need not describe how the sea shone like molten silver, and the paint on the boat’s gunwales blistered and cracked, as did the skin of their noses and cheeks, and how hot even the thwarts were, till it was quite unpleasant to sit on them—all that must be supposed. At last the sea breeze set in, and soon after Paddy jumped up, and, in his delight, almost toppled overboard, exclaiming, “A sail! a sail!” As the stranger approached, Jack made her out to be a long, low, black brig; he ordered the boat’s-sail to be lowered, and the people to lie down in the bottom of the boat and to cover themselves up with the sail.
“You’ll find it rather hot, my lads, perhaps,” he observed; “but never mind that, you’ll be the more ready to board the slaver, if, as I suspect, that’s one, when she comes up to us.”
He and Terence, however, kept a hole, through which they might peep out. The brig stood directly down towards them. By turns they kept popping their heads up to see how she got on; Jack’s fingers longed to grasp his rifle, as Terence did his. He had got one the last time they were at Sierra Leone, and though it shot better than a Tower musket, it could not hold a candle to Jack’s.
They both thought that the approaching brig was a slaver, but to make more sure they called Wasser to them. He crept along under the sail, and put his eyes up over the gunwale: “Yes, big slaver, no doubt,” he observed; “but no get slavie in yet.”
“Then we’ll follow and board her,” cried Jack. “If she won’t heave-to, we’ll make her.”
This seemed rather a vaunting boast for two midshipmen and six men in a small boat to make, but Jack was perfectly in earnest about the matter. The men had their oars all ready to ship at a moment’s notice. The brig stood on till she was within about 400 yards of the boat, and Jack, who was watching her from under the sail, thought that he should have to get out of her way to prevent being run down. Suddenly she changed her course, and hauled more off the land. Perhaps her people suspected a ruse. In an instant, as Jack gave the order, up sprung his men, out went their oars, and away after the brig they pulled. The character of the brig was soon shown, for no sooner did her crew see that they were pursued than they began peppering away at the gig, while a gun was run out at a port on her quarter, which opened a fire of round and grape-shot. Her low bulwarks afforded no protection to the crew working the gun, so Jack stood up, and, taking deliberate aim, shot one of them just as he was about to fire.
“Terence, give me your rifle, and reload mine,” he exclaimed. Terence did as he was bid. Another of the gunner’s crew fell; a third and a fourth shared the same fate. The slaver’s people could not understand how this had happened, but terror seized them, and they refused to go to the gun. This, however, did not save them, for the unerring rifle picked out several on different parts of the deck. The breeze was freshening, and the slaver made all sail away from the boat. But as a thresher pertinaciously pursues one of those monsters of the deep till it has destroyed it, so did the little gig follow the large brig, which looked large enough to destroy a hundred such pigmy cockleshells. Jack felt that everything depended on his coolness and the steadiness of his aim. Aided by Terence, well did he do his work. The astonished crew of the slaver must have fancied that they were pursued by evil spirits rather than by men. Once more they kept away dead before the wind, and, crossing the bows of the boat, stood towards the coast. It became evident that their intention was to run the vessel on shore and abandon her. Jack and Terence had no fancy that they should do that, as they did not wish to lose their prize. The breeze, however, increased so much that they could hardly keep way with her. Still they followed, firing as rapidly as before. At last Jack found that his shots were no longer telling, and, as he was afraid of expending all his ammunition, he ceased firing, but still followed hard after the slaver. A sandy little bay was ahead, sheltered somewhat by a reef of rocks from the roll of the Atlantic. Towards it the slaver was steered. She grounded in smooth water. A boat was lowered, and into it some of her crew tumbled, while others appeared to be swimming on shore.
“The cowards!” exclaimed Jack contemptuously; “there are twenty men at least of them, and they are running away from eight. They would fly from their own shadows.”
“Yes, unless those shadows were as cowardly as themselves,” said Paddy quickly.
By the time they got up to the brig’s quarter, and climbed on board, all the crew had escaped with the exception of two men, one of whom was dying, the other was dead.
“Oh, Terence,” exclaimed Jack, as he looked at them, “this is very dreadful!”
“What?” asked Adair, surprised.
“That my hand should have done that,” answered Jack gravely; “to know that one has been killing people is bad enough, but to see them afterwards—oh, I wish that I hadn’t done it!”
“Then you see, Jack, the slaver would have got off, and taken 300 or 400, or more, poor black people away from their homes, a third of whom would have probably died miserably on board, and the rest would have been destined to spend their lives in abject slavery and to become the parents of a race of slaves. Those Spaniards, or Portuguese, or whatever they are, have brought about their own deaths. Every shot you fired contributed to prevent a vast amount of wretchedness and suffering.”
These arguments convinced Jack that he was allowing very natural and right feelings to get the better of his judgment. “That poor fellow groans dreadfully. Can’t we do something for him?” he said at last.
“I’ll try and doctor him,” said Terence. “Perhaps Wasser can help; he knows all sorts of things.” Wasser did help most effectually. They poured some spirits down the wounded man’s throat, and did their best to stop the bleeding. He revived for a time, and seemed to be praying.
“I hope that he is repenting of his misdeeds,” said Jack. Such seemed to be the case, and Jack felt, as he expressed himself, “much more comfortable about what he had done.”
Leaving the wounded man to Wasser’s care, they went below to examine their prize. They found that she was fully equipped for carrying 700 or 800 slaves, instead of only 300 or 400, as Terence had supposed. She had two brass guns, an ample supply of arms and ammunition of every sort, so that she was as well able to act the pirate as the slaver. They could not decide what to do with her. They feared if they left her that her crew would return and burn her, while at the same time they were anxious to get back to the frigate. After waiting some time, their course was decided by seeing the Ranger in the offing.
“Terence,” said. Jack, “you must go off to her. Leave me and the rifles, with Dick Needham to load them; and if the pirates appear, I will keep them at bay till you return.”
In vain Terence expostulated: Jack would have it so, and he was compelled to obey.
Thus were Jack and sturdy Dick Needham left alone onboard the stranded vessel. They watched the gig as she pulled away, till she was lost in the distance.
“Now, Needham,” said Jack, “if the pirates come back, which is more than likely, we must be prepared to give them a warm reception. See—you load the rifles, and I’ll fire them.” Jack very quickly got over his scruples about killing his enemies.
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Dick, not at first quite comprehending what a warm reception meant. “But, sir, as they’ve left plenty of ammunition on board and these two brass guns, besides no end of muskets, we might give ’em a warmer still. If you think fit, sir, we’ll load the guns with langrage, and range the muskets along the deck; and then any spare moment when you are using the rifles I might be popping them off.”
Jack highly approved of Dick’s notion, and only wished that the slaver’s crew would come back, that he might carry it into execution. They both had been so busy that they had not thought of the poor wretched Spaniard. Suddenly Jack recollected him. He had been placed in the shade under the poop deck. He was still breathing.
“Eu moro de sede,”—I die of thirst, I die of thirst—groaned the miserable man, showing his glazed eyes. His parched lips showed how much he was suffering.
“Dick, bring some water for this poor fellow,” cried Rogers.
Dick hunted about. Not a drop could he find. There was strong brandy in abundance; but of the pure liquid which might have saved the man’s life, or at all events saved him from suffering so much, not a drop was to be procured. Neither Rogers nor Dick Needham had before thought of thirst. Now they at once felt a strong inclination to drink. Jack, with a true Christian feeling, employed every device he could think of to soothe the sufferings of the dying man.
“Oh, senhor, you are very kind! I am a wretch, I know; but, as I hope to be forgiven, I forgive the man who shot me.”
These were very nearly the last words the Spaniard uttered. A cry from Needham called Jack out on deck. There appeared on the beach the whole crew of the slaver, and, in addition, some twenty or thirty others, white men and negroes. They evidently did not perceive that anybody was on board, and began deliberately to launch the boat by which they had reached the shore, and which Terence had neglected to tow off before he left the brig. Jack waited till they had shoved off.
“Now, Dick,” said he, creeping to one of the ports, “stand by to load, and hand me the rifles while I do my duty.” He was going to say, “pick them off.”
Shot succeeded shot, and three men were hit before the pirates knew where their enemies were concealed. The boat was seen to put back, the people in her leaping in a desperate hurry on shore.
“It won’t do to let them fancy that they are safe yet,” cried Jack. “Hand me another rifle.” He continued firing away, seldom failing to hit the man he aimed at.
“Hurra, hurra!” shouted Needham. “They are running off, they are running off.” So they were, but they had not gone far before a man was seen galloping up on horseback. Jack thought he looked remarkably like Don Diego. He began striking right and left with a sword at the fugitives, and was evidently urging them to make an attempt to regain the brig. At last he succeeded in inducing another party to embark, but he himself remained on shore. Several times Jack had aimed at him, but he seemed to bear a charmed life. None of the bullets took effect. Jack was afraid of firing at him again, for his rifle ammunition was almost expended. Finding the firing cease, the pirates gained courage and pulled boldly towards the brig.
“Now’s the time for our dose of langrage, sir,” cried Needham. Jack nodded his consent. Dick run out one of the guns. Jack pointed it and fired. Then they sprang to the other and fired that. Shrieks and cries followed, and the boat, in a sinking condition, put back to the shore. Don Diego got off his horse, and stamped with rage. He could not make it out, but the men would not make another attempt. In a minute more they had all disappeared. As soon as they were clear off, Jack and Needham set to work to examine the vessel more minutely, in the hopes of discovering some small quantity of water or other liquid which they could drink. Vain again was their search, but on opening a locker, Jack observed a box thickly bound with brass. He tried to pull it out, but could not move it alone, so he summoned Needham to his assistance. It was very heavy.
“We’ll see what is in it,” said Jack. Perhaps, had he reflected, he might have waited to deliver it over unopened to Captain Lascelles. However, this did not occur to him at the moment. A cold chisel and hammer were soon found, and on the chest being forced open rolls of glittering gold coin lay exposed to view.
“Here is a mint of gold,” cried Needham. “I wonder them pirate chaps didn’t try to walk off with it.”
“It shows what a fright they must have been in to leave, it behind, if they knew it was here,” answered Jack. “However, we must shut the box up again. It is lawful prize-money, and will be divided in due proportions among all hands, that’s one comfort.”
“By the by, Needham,” said Jack, after the box had been closed, “it strikes me that old Don Diego must have known that the gold is on board, and that makes him so anxious to get hold of the vessel to recover it. Oh, how thirsty I am! For my part, just now, I would rather have a quart of water than that box of gold.”
“So would I, sir,” answered Needham. “Maybe, though, we shall find it cooler on deck, where there is a breath of air.”
Fortunately Jack took Needham’s hint. On looking towards the land, the whole beach was covered with men carrying among them six or eight large canoes, while the little Don appeared as before on horseback, directing their movements. Jack, knowing the incentive which was influencing his enemies, and seeing the preparations made to attack the brig, might well have despaired of successfully resisting them. He and Needham were not people to sell their lives cheaply. As before, they loaded the brass guns, and all the muskets and rifles. He waited, however, to fire till the canoes were launched. Then he immediately opened on them. The canoes came on. Don Diego was in one of them. It would have been wiser in the Don to have remained on shore. He was eager probably to secure his gold. Jack took a steady aim at him; down he sank to the bottom of the canoe. Still that same canoe came on, and Jack fancied that he could see the old man’s arm lifted up, and still pointing at the brig. He could not bring himself to fire at him again, as he thus lay wounded and almost helpless. Needham, however, had marked the canoe, and, pointing his gun at her, let fly a whole shower of langrage about the heads of the negroes paddling in her. Many were knocked over, and the remainder, turning her round, made the best of their way to the beach. The other canoes stopped and wavered. Jack plied them well with bullets; the people on shore seemed to be beckoning them back. Jack bethought him of taking a glance seaward, to ascertain if assistance was at hand, and there, to his no small satisfaction, he saw the Ranger under full sail, standing towards him. His danger was not yet over. The pirates made another desperate attempt to regain the brig, but were as gallantly repulsed as before; the negroes not being able to withstand the hot fire kept up on them. Jack and Needham set up as loud a cheer as their parched throats would let them give, when, in a short time, they saw Hemming in a boat, and Adair in another, approaching the brig. Fortunately, she had taken the ground so softly, that she was hove off that very evening, and was one, and not the least valuable, of the many prizes taken by the Ranger. Adair, however, in consequence of the exertions he had gone through, was too ill to accompany Rogers in charge of her to Sierra Leone, and so Jack, much to his regret, had to go by himself, not forgetting his faithful rifle.
