“To think that we should have spent all this time before a town fortified only by slaving rascals, and manned by blacks, and after all not yet to be masters of it!” exclaimed Jack with some bitterness in his tone.
“It comes very much of the common English fault of despising our enemies,” observed Murray. “We are apt to forget that though fellows have black or tawny skins, they have got brains in their heads.”
That night passed like the former ones, and Sunday was gliding tranquilly away, spent in most instances by the crews on board the vessels and boats, after the example of their commander, as a Sunday should be passed, when it was ascertained that the usurper and his prime minister, and the greater number of his troops, had abandoned the city. The English commander, therefore, sent to direct the negro auxiliaries who had accompanied King Akitoye from Abeokuta to escort him into the city, and to install him in his office. This was done, and they took possession of the houses which had escaped the conflagration, while a small portion only of the British forces entered that evening and spiked the guns in the chief batteries turned towards the river. The next morning fifty-two guns were destroyed or embarked. Murray was among those who went on shore. In his letter home he made the following remarks:—
“The greater part of the stronghold of slavery is now little more than a heap of ashes; but enough of the works remain to show the cunning methods devised by the blacks for entrapping us into ambushes had we assaulted it. In truth, the place is a great deal stronger than we had any notion of. One thing I must say, that, in spite of the reverses we at first experienced, every officer and man engaged in the affair did his utmost, and behaved as British seamen always should behave; and it must be the consolation of the relations and friends of the gallant fellows who lost their lives, that a very important work has been performed, and that the capture of this stronghold of the slave trade will prove one of the severest blows that hateful traffic has ever experienced. It has done much also, I trust, to advance the cause of religion and civilisation in Africa, and will help, I hope, to wipe away the dark stain which is attached to many of the so-called Christian nations of the world. Akitoye is now installed King of Lagos. He professes great friendship for the English, as well as for the people of Abeokuta. If he proves the stern enemy of the slave trade and the true friend of Christianity, we shall not have fought in vain.”
On searching for the Spanish and Portuguese slave-dealers, by whom the Lagos people had been trained to arms, none were to be found. They had fled, and as their property was completely destroyed, they have never since returned. The midshipmen heard that their old acquaintance Don Diego was one of those who had establishments there, but they could not hear anything of him, nor what had become of the felucca, on board of which he was last seen. One thing was very certain, that his love for the English generally, or for them in particular, could not have been increased when he found that all his property in Lagos had been destroyed. The squadron at length once more put to sea, and Lagos has ever since virtually been under the jurisdiction of the British Government, who retain it for the purpose of keeping in check the slave traffic.
“Then she must pass close to us,” cried Jack. “We’ll be on the watch for her.”
Another look they all took before the sun sank below the horizon confirmed them in this opinion. The last few hours of daylight were spent by the crew in examining their pistols, in seeing that their cutlasses were ready at hand, and everything prepared for boarding at a moment’s notice. All hands then turned to and had a good supper, after which, as they said, they were up to anything.
The boat floated quietly on the almost calm waters, for though the men lay on their oars, they did not pull a stroke. Not a word was spoken above the lowest whisper. A slight mist came over the land with the night air, damp and unwholesome enough, but Jack and Terence little regarded that point, as it contributed much to conceal the boat from the approaching stranger, though they had little doubt that her more lofty sails would easily be seen above it. Time passed on. They calculated that the schooner must be drawing near.
Once more Jack stood up. “There she is,” he whispered as he sank into his seat. “Away to the northward. Out oars, lads, as gently as possible. In ten minutes we shall be alongside of her.” The oars had been muffled, and with the long, steady strokes made by the men, scarcely a splash was heard. They might well hope to be up to the stranger without being discovered. On glided the boat. It was an exciting moment. The sails of a large topsail schooner rose up out of the mist before them.
Jack and Adair thought they saw a little beyond her the pointed tops of another craft slowly moving over the bank of fog. If they should both prove enemies, there would be fearful odds against them. They numbered only eleven people in all—eight pulling, Needham, and themselves. Still they did not hesitate.
“We’ll take one, and then be ready for the other,” whispered Jack.
Adair nodded his assent. Still, discretion might have been the best part of valour in this case.
“That further craft is a felucca,” again whispered Jack. “I can see the tops of her lateen sails above the mist. Perhaps she’s the old Don’s craft. Never mind, we’ll be ready for him.”
In two minutes more they were close up to the schooner. No notice had hitherto been taken of them by those on board. They flattered themselves that they were not perceived. They dashed alongside.
“Who are you? who are you?” said a fierce voice in Spanish. “Speak, speak, who are you?”
“A boat of Her Britannic Majesty’s ship Ranger,” answered Jack, who understood what was said. “Heave-to, I want to come on board you.” He said this as the boat was hooking on, and he and Terence, followed by their men, were about to spring on deck, when again the same person who had before hailed, sung out, “Heave, heave; sink the boat and the scoundrel heretics. Have no mercy on them.”
At that instant down came half a dozen round shots into the bottom of the boat, rattling through the planks, while pistols were fired in their faces, and pikes were thrust at them, and swords flourished above their heads. They were prepared for opposition, so, in spite of this, cutlass in hand, they sprung up the side of the vessel without much difficulty, as her bulwarks were low, and attacked their assailants. Jack had time to seize his rifle, for he saw the water rushing into his boat, and he felt that she was sinking under their feet. Followed by Queerface, who, through fright, chattered away louder than ever, the English seamen gained the deck of the slaver. Such undoubtedly she was, if not worse. Jack saw that they had nearly taken her by surprise, for but few men were at that moment on deck; but others, some only half dressed, were rushing out of both the fore and after cabins. The first who had received them made so bold a stand that time was allowed for the whole of the Spanish crew to assemble. They far outnumbered the English. Still the gallant young midshipmen and their followers fought on undaunted. Suddenly Queerface, who had hitherto kept behind the rest, jumped up into the rigging and looked over them.
“Don Diego! Don Diego!” cried several of the slaver’s crew; “how comes he to be with these men? There must be some mistake.”
“Quacko—quacko—quacko,” cried Queerface, and scudded up the rigging out of harm’s way.
The Spaniards could not make it out. The delay, however, was an advantage to the English, as it enabled them to cast their eyes around and see the state of affairs. The greater number of their enemies were forward, so Jack and most of his party sprang on in that direction, hoping to dispose of them first. The fellows stood their ground, firing their pistols and flourishing their swords, and two of the English were shot, and Jack got an ugly cut across his shoulder. Still he pressed on, and compelled at length the Spaniards to take refuge in their cabin under the topgallant forecastle. Meantime, Terence was keeping the slaver’s captain and officers in check, but he had lost a man, who was struck to the deck, and Needham too was wounded. Matters were going very hard with Jack and his followers. Still ten British seamen might well have hoped to conquer the whole of a slaver’s crew. The fight had now become desperate. The Spanish captain had probably all his fortune embarked in the venture, Jack and his party had to struggle for life and liberty. Again and again they made desperate rushes at the after-part of the vessel, and at length they pushed the Spaniards so hard that they almost drove them overboard, when two sails were seen emerging from the fog and gliding up alongside. In another instant, not Queerface, but the veritable Don Diego himself was seen to spring on board, followed by a dozen or more villainous-looking ruffians.
“What’s all this? what’s all this?” his harsh croaking voice was heard shouting in Spanish. “Down with the English pirates, down with them!”
Hearing the cry, the Spaniards, who had taken refuge forward, rushed out again, and though Jack called to Terence to fight to the last, and that they would sell their lives dearly, they found themselves literally borne down by numbers, and their cutlasses whirled out of their hands.
“We have done our best, Paddy, we can do no more,” exclaimed Jack, as he and Terence found themselves standing side by side, with their hands secured and lashed to the mainmast. Needham and the rest of the people who were able to move were treated in the same way.
“Why, my friend, you were very nearly captured by these piccaroons,” they heard Don Diego remark to the other Spanish captain. “But where is a lantern?—let me see whom we have caught.”
The lantern was brought, and the Don came round and held it up to their faces.
“Ha! ha!” he exclaimed with a most sardonic grin. “Your obedient humble servant, gentlemen. I told you we should meet again, and we have met. What do you expect after all the tricks you have played me?”
Neither Jack nor Terence deigned a reply.
“Ah, speak, pirates!” he exclaimed, stamping furiously on the deck; “the yard-arm, a sharp knife, or a walk on the plank? Whichever you like. I grant you your choice.”
Still neither of the midshipmen would reply. What was the use of so doing?
“We must kill every one of them,” exclaimed the Don, speaking in Spanish, turning to the other captain. “I have a long account to settle with these English generally, and these lads especially. They have been the cause of nearly all my losses. They cannot repay me, but I can take my revenge, and that is something.”
“Certainly, certainly, my friend,” answered the other, “you can hang, or drown, or shoot them, as you think fit. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me.”
These were the last words poor Jack heard as the two worthies entered the cabin.
“We are in a bad case, Jack, I am afraid,” said Adair, “though I could not exactly make out what the fellows said.”
“It was not pleasant,” answered Jack briefly. “Terence, have you ever thought of dying?”
“Yes, I have; that is to say, I have known that I was running many a chance of being knocked on the head or finished in some way or other,” answered Adair with some little hesitation.
“Then, Terence, my dear fellow, let us look at it as an awful reality, which is about speedily to overtake us,” said Jack solemnly. “These fellows threaten to at once take our lives; depend on it, they will put their threats into execution.”
“It is hard to bear, Jack dear,” replied Adair; “I am so sorry for you and for all your brothers and sisters at home. I don’t think mine care much for me; that’s one comfort. But, I say, I wish that the blackguards would let us have our arms free, that we might still have a fight for our lives.”
“Don’t speak thus, Terence,” said Jack, who was almost overcome by Adair’s allusion to his family. “Don’t let us think of the past, but keep our thoughts fixed on the future world we are about to enter, and think how very unfit we are of ourselves for the glorious place we would wish to go to.”
Terence listened and responded in the same tone to his messmate. Much more they said to the same effect, nor did they forget to offer up their prayers for preservation from the terrible danger which threatened them. Then, with the calmness of Christians and brave men, they awaited the doom they believed prepared for them. Such consolation as they could give also they offered to the survivors of their crew. Two poor fellows had been killed outright; another was bleeding to death on the deck, nor would the brutal Spaniards offer him the slightest assistance, while they prevented his shipmates from giving it him. Jack himself was suffering also much pain from his wound, while he felt so faint from loss of blood that he could scarcely support himself. He had told Needham that the Spaniards threatened to kill them all.
“Well, sir, they may do it if they dare, but they will be sure to be caught some day or other,” answered Needham. “I wouldn’t change places with them. We shall die having done our duty; they will be hung up like dogs. If I knew their lingo I would tell them so.”
The English were not long left in quiet. So many of the Spaniards had been wounded that some time was spent by them in bandaging up their hurts, and as soon as this was done they came on deck, eager to wreak their vengeance on their captive foes. They now came about them with their long knives, flourishing them before their eyes, and pretending to stab at them. Some indeed, more brutal than the rest, actually stuck their knives into their flesh; but though blood was drawn, the seamen generally disdained even to utter a word, though one or two said, “I’ll tell you what, you villains, if I can get my fists at liberty, I’ll give it you.” At length Don Diego and the captain of the schooner came out from the cabin. They had apparently made up their minds what to do. The latter gave orders to reeve ropes to each yard-arm, while planks were got up and placed over the sides, secured on board by lanyards. On these being cut, of course the end of the plank overboard would instantly sink down and let the person standing on it into the water. Don Diego had, it seemed, taken upon himself the direction of the executions. Jack and Adair had supposed that the Spaniards would wait till the morning to kill them, but the little Don evidently had no wish to delay his vengeance.
“Cast the prisoners loose, and bring them aft,” he cried out. “Now, you scoundrel heretics, what have you got to say for yourselves? Nothing? I thought so. Well, I will be merciful. You shall choose the mode of your death. What shall it be—will you be hung or walk the plank? There are plenty of sharks alongside who will be happy to entomb you either way.”
No one replied to this address.
