“I say, Tom, now since little Reefy is asleep—what think you—big craft that—nearly caught a Tartar—not very sorry he has escaped, eh?”
“Why, my dear sir, I trust he has not escaped: I hope, when the day breaks, now since we have less wind, that we may have a tussle with him yet.”
“No, you don’t wish it, do you, really and truly?”
“Indeed I do, sir; and the only thing which bothers me is the peril that you and your friends must necessarily encounter.”
“Poo, poo! don’t mind us, Tom—don’t mind us; but an’t be too big for you, Tom?”
He said this in such a comical way, that, for the life of me, I could not help laughing.
“Why, we shall see; but attack him I must, and shall, if I can get at him. However, we shall wait till morning; so I recommend your turning in now, since they have cleared away the cockpit out of the cabin; so good-night, my dear sir—I must stay here, I fear.”
“Good-night, Tom; God bless you. I shall go and comfort Wagtail and Paul.”
I was at this time standing well aft on the larboard side of the deck, close abaft to the tiller-rope, so that, with no earthly disposition to be an eavesdropper, I could neither help seeing nor hearing what was going on in the cabin, as the small open skylight was close to my foot. All vestiges of the cockpit had been cleared away, and the table was laid for supper. Wagtail and Gelid were sitting on the side I stood on, so that I could not see them, although I heard every word they said. Presently Bang entered, and sat down opposite his allies. He crossed his arms, and leant down over the table, looking at them steadily.
“My dear Aaron,” I could hear little Wagtail say, “speak, man, don’t frighten a body so.”
“Ah, Bang,” drawled out Paul, “jests are good, being well timed; what can you mean by that face of yours now, since the fighting is all over?”
My curiosity fairly overcame my good manners, and I moved round more amidships, so as to command a view of both parties, as they sat opposite each other at the narrow table.
Bang still held his peace for another minute; at length, in a very solemn tone, he said, “Gentlemen, do you ever say your prayers?” I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but Aaron had a most musical deep mellow voice, and now it absolutely thrilled to my very soul.
Wagtail and Paul looked at him, and then at each other, with a most absurd expression—between fear and jest—between crying and laughing—but gave him no answer.
“Are you, my lads, such blockheads as to be ashamed to acknowledge that you say your prayers?”
“Ah,” said Gelid, “why, ah no—not—that is—”
“Oh, you Catholics are all so bigoted. I suppose we should cross ourselves, eh?” said Wagtail, hastily.
“I am a Catholic, Master Wagtail,” rejoined Bang—”better that than nothing. Before sunrise, we may both have proved the truth of our creeds, if you have one; but if you mean it as a taunt, Wagtail, it does discredit to your judgment to select such a moment, to say nothing of your heart. However, you cannot make me angry with you, Pepperpot, you little Creole wasp, do as you will.” A slight smile here curled Aaron’s lip for an instant, although he immediately resumed the solemn tone in which he had previously spoken. “But I had hoped that two such old friends, as you both have been to me, would not altogether have made up their minds in cold blood, if advertised of their danger, to run the chance of dying like dogs in a ditch, without one preparatory thought towards that tremendous Being, before whom we may all stand before morning.”
“Murder!” quoth Wagtail, fairly frightened; “are you really serious, Aaron? I did not—would not for the world hurt your feelings in earnest, my dear: why do you desire so earnestly to know whether or not I ever say my prayers?”
“Oh, don’t bother, man,” rejoined Bang, resuming his usual friendly tone; “you had better say boldly that you do not, without any roundaboutation.”
“But why, my dear Bang—why do you ask the question?” persisted Wagtail, in a deuced quandary.
“Simply”—and here our friend’s voice once more fell to the low deep serious tone in which he had opened the conference—”simply because, in my humble estimation, if you don’t say your prayers tonight, it is three to one you shall never pray again.”
“The deuce!” said Pepperpot, twisting himself in all directions, as if his inexpressibles had been nailed to his seat, and he was trying to escape from them. “What, in the devil’s name, mean you, man?”
“I mean neither more nor less than what I say. I speak English, don’t I? I say, that that pestilent young fellow, Cringle, told me half an hour ago that he was determined, as he words it, to stick to this Guineaman, who is three times his size, has eighteen guns, while Master Tommy has only three; and whose crew, I will venture to say, triples our number; and the snipe, from what I know of him, is the very man to keep his word—so what say you, my darling, eh?”
“Ah, very inconvenient, ah—I shall stay below,” said Paul.
“So shall I,” quoth Pepperpot; “won’t stick my nose on deck, Aaron dear— no, not for the whole world.”
“Why,” said Bang, in the same steady low tone, “you shall do as you please, all”—and here he very successfully imitated our amigo Gelid’s drawl—”and as best suits you, all; but I have consulted the gunner, an old ally of mine, who, to be plain with you—ah—says that the danger from splinter-wounds below is much greater than from their musketry on deck—ah—the risk from the round-shot being pretty equal—ah—in either situation.” At this announcement you could have jumped down either Wagtail’s or Gelid’s throat—Wagtail’s for choice—without touching their teeth. “Farther, the aforesaid Timothy, and be hanged to him! deponeth that the only place in a small vessel where we could have had a moderate chance of safety was the run—so called, I presume, from people running to it for safety; but where the deuce this sanctuary is situated I know not, nor does it signify greatly, for it is now converted into a spare powder-magazine, and of course sealed to us. So here we are, my lads, in as neat a taking as ever three unfortunate gentlemen were in, in this weary world. However, now since I have comforted you, let us go to bed-time enough to think on all this in the morning, and I am consumedly tired.”
I heard no more, and resumed my solitary walk on deck, peering every now and then through the night-glass until my eyes ached again. The tedious night at length wore away, and the grey dawn found me sound asleep, leaning out at the gangway. They had scarcely begun to wash down the decks, when we discerned our friend of the preceding night, about four miles to windward, close-hauled on the same tack, apparently running in for the Cuba shore as fast as canvass would carry him. If this was his object, we had proved too quick for him, as by casting off stays and slacking shrouds, and, in every way we could think of, loosening the rigid trim of the little vessel, we had in a great measure recovered her sailing: so when he found he was cut off from the land, he resolutely bore up, took in his topgallant sails, hauled up his courses, fired a gun, and hoisted his large Spanish ensign, all in regular man-of-war fashion. By this time it was broad daylight, and Wagtail, Gelid, and Bang were all three on deck, performing their morning ablutions. As for myself, I was well forward, near the long gun. Pegtop, Mr Bang’s black valet, came up to me.
“Please, Massa Captain, can you spare me any muskets?”
“Any muskets?” said I; “why, half-a-dozen if you choose.”
“De wery number my massa told me to hax for. Tank you, Massa Captain.” And forthwith he and the other two black servants in attendance on Wagtail and Gelid, each seized his two muskets out of the arm-chest, with the corresponding ammunition, and, like so many sable Robinson Crusoes, were stumping aft, when I again accosted the aforesaid Pegtop.
“I say, my man, now since you have got the muskets, does your master really intend to fight?” The negro stopped short, and faced right round, his countenance expressing very great surprise and wonderment. “Massa Bang fight! Massa Aaron Bang fight?” an
d he looked up in my face with the most seriocomic expression that could be imagined. “Ah, massa,” continued the poor fellow, “you is joking—surely you is joking—my Massa Aaron Bang fight? Oh, massa, surely you can’t know he—surely you never see him shoot snipe and wild-duck—oh dear! why, him kill wild-duck on de wing—ah, me often see him knock down teal wid single ball, one hundred—ah, one hundred and fifty yards—and man surely more big mark den teal?”
“Granted,” I said; “but a teal has not a loaded musket in its claws, as a Spanish buccaneer may have—a small difference, Master Pegtop, in that?”
“None at all, massa,” chimed in Pegtop, very energetically—”I myshef, Gabriel Pegtop, Christian man as me is, am one of de Falmouth black shot. Ah, I have been in de woods wid Massa Aaron—one time particular, when dem wery debils, Sambo Moses, Corromantee Tom, and Eboe Peter, took to de bush, at Crabyaw estate after breakfast—ten black shot—me was one—go out along wid our good massa, Massa Aaron. O Lord, we walk troo de cool wood, and over de hot cleared ground, six hour, when everybody say, ‘No use dis, Massa Bang— all we tired too much—must stop here—kindle fire—cook wittal.’ ‘Ah, top dem who hab white liver,’ said Massa Aaron; ‘you, Pegtop, take you fusee and cutlass, and follow me, my shild’—Massa Aaron alway call me him shild, and troo enough, as parson Calaloo say, him family wery much like Joseph coat—many colour among dem, massa—though none quite so deep as mine eider”—and here the negro grinned at his own jest. “Well, I was follow him, or rader was go before him, opening up de pass wid me cutlass troo de wery tangle underwood. We walk four hour—see no one—all still and quiet—no breeze shake de tree—oh, I sweat too much—dem hot, massa—sun shine right down, when we could catch glimpse of him—yet no trace of de runaways. At length, on turning corner, perched on small platform of rock, overshadowed by plumes of bamboos, like ostrich feather lady wear at de ball, who shall we see but dem wery dividual d—— rascall I was mention, standing all tree, each wid one carabine pointed at us, at him shoulder, and cutlass at him side? ‘Pegtop, my boy,’ said Massa Aaron, ‘we is in for it follow me, but don’t fire.’ So him pick off Sambo Moses—oh! cool as one cucumber. ‘Now,’ say he, ‘man to man’—and wid dat him tro him gun on de ground, and, drawing him cutlass, we push up— in one moment him and Corromantee Tom close. Tom put up him hand to fend him head—whip—ah—massa cutlass shred de hand at de wrist, like one carrot—down Tom go—atop of him jump Massa Aaron. I master de leetle one, Eboe Peter, and we carry dem both prisoners into Falmouth. Massa Aaron fight? Ah, massa, no hax dat question again.”
“Well, but will Mr Gelid fight?” said I.
“I tink him will too—great friend of Massa Bang—good duckshot too—oh yes, tink Massa Paul will fight.”
“Why,” said I, “your friends are all heroes, Pegtop—will Mr Wagtail fight also?” He stole close up to me, and exchanged his smart Creole gibberish for a quiet sedate accent, as he whispered—
“Not so sure of he—nice little fat man, but too fond of him belly. When I wait behind Massa Aaron chair, Pegtop sometime hear funny ting. One gentleman say—’Ah, dat month we hear Lord Wellington take Saint Sebastian—when, dat is, what time we hear dat news, Massa Wagtail?’ him say, ‘Eli,’ say Massa Wagtail—’oh, we hear of dem news dat wery day de first of de ringtail pigeon come to market.’ Den again, ‘Dat big fight dem had at soch anoder place, when we hear of dat, Massa Wagtail?’ say somebody else.—’Oh, oh, de wery day we hab dat beautiful grouper wid claret-sauce at Massa Whiffle’s.’ Oh, make me laugh to hear white gentleman mark great fight in him memory by what him eat de day de news come; so, Massa Captain Cringle, me no quite sure weder Massa Wagtail fight or no.”
So saying, Pegtop, Chew Chew, and Yampea, each shouldered two muskets apiece, and betook themselves to the after-part of the schooner, where they forthwith set themselves to scour and oil and clean the same in a most skilful manner. I expected the breeze would have freshened as the day broke, but I was disappointed; it fell, towards six o’clock, nearly calm. Come, thought I, we may as well go to breakfast; and my guests and I forthwith sat down to our morning meal. Soon after, the wind died away altogether—and “out sweeps” was the word; but I soon saw we had no chance with the chase at this game, and as to attacking him with the boats, it was entirely out of the question; neither could I, in the prospect of a battle, afford to murder the people by pulling all day under a roasting sun, against one who could man his sweeps with relays of slaves, without one of his crew putting a finger to them; so I reluctantly laid them in, and there I stood looking at him the whole forenoon, as he gradually drew ahead of us. At length I piped to dinner, and the men, having finished theirs, were again on deck; but the calm still continued; and seeing no chance of it freshening, about four in the afternoon we sat down to ours in the cabin. There was little said; my friends, although brave and resolute men, were naturally happy to see the brig creeping away from us, as fighting could only bring them danger; and my own feelings were of that mixed quality, that while I determined to do all I could to bring him to action, it would not have broken my heart had he escaped. We had scarcely finished dinner, however, when the rushing of the water past the run of the little vessel, and the steadiness with which she skimmed along, showed that the light air had freshened.
Presently Tailtackle came down. “The breeze has set down, sir; the strange sail has got it strong to windward, and brings it along with him cheerily.”
“Beat to quarters, then, Tailtackle; all hands stand by to shorten sail. How is she standing?”
“Right down for us, sir.”
I went on deck, and there was the Guineaman, about two miles to windward, evidently cleared for action, with her decks crowded with men, bowling along steadily under her single-reefed topsails.
I saw all clear. Wagtail and Gelid had followed me on deck, and were now busy with their black servants inspecting the muskets. But Bang still remained in the cabin. I went down. He was gobbling his last plantain, and forking up along with it most respectable slices of cheese, when I entered.
I had seen before I left the deck that an action was now unavoidable, and, judging from the disparity of force, I had my own doubts as to the issue. I need scarcely say that I was greatly excited. It was my first command: my future standing in the service depended on my conduct now—and, God help me, I was all this while a mere lad—not more than twenty-one years old. A strange indescribable feeling had come over me, and an irresistible desire to disburden my mind to the excellent man before me. I sat down.
“Hey-day,” quoth Bang, as he laid down his coffee-cup; “why, Tom, what ails you? You look deuced pale, my boy.”
“Up all night and bothered all day,” said I; “wearied enough, I can tell you.”
I felt a strong tremor pervade my whole frame at this moment and I was impelled to speak by some unknown impulse, which I could not account for nor analyse.
“Mr Bang, you are the only friend whom I could count on in these countries; you know all about me and mine, and, I believe, would willingly do a kind action to my father’s son.”
“What are you at, Tom, my dear boy I come to the point, man.”
“I will. I am distressed beyond measure at having led you and your excellent friends, Wagtail and Gelid, into this danger; but I could not help it, and I have satisfied my conscience on that point; so I have only to entreat that you will stay below, and not unnecessarily expose yourselves. And if I should fall—may I take this liberty, my dear sir,” and I involuntarily took his hand—”if I should fall, and I doubt if I shall ever see the sun set again, as we are fearfully overmatched—”
Bang struck in—
“Why, if our friend be too big—why not be off then? Pull foot, man, eh?— Havannah under your lee?”
“A thousand reasons against it, my dear sir. I am a young man and a young officer; my character is to make in the service. No, no, it is impossible—an older and more tried hand might have bore up, but I must fight it out. I
f any stray shot carries me off, my dear sir, will you take”—Mary, I would have said, but I could not pronounce her name for the soul of me—”will you take charge of her miniature, and say I died as I have”—a choking lump rose in my throat, and I could not proceed for a second; “and will you send my writing-desk to my poor mother, there are letters in”—the lump grew bigger, the hot tears streamed from my eyes in torrents. I trembled like an aspen-leaf, and, grasping my excellent friend’s hand more firmly, I sank down on my knees in a passion of tears, and wept like a woman, while I fervently prayed to that great God, in whose almighty hand I stood, that I might that day do my duty as an English seaman. Bang knelt by me. Presently the passion was quelled. I rose, and so did he.
“Before you, my dear sir, I am not ashamed to have—”
“Don’t mention it, my good boy—don’t mention it; neither of us, as the old general said, will fight a bit the worse.”
I looked at him. “Do you then mean to fight?” said I.
“To be sure I do—why not? I have no wife”—he did not say he had no children. “Fight? To be sure I do.”
“Another gun, sir,” said Tailtackle through the open skylight. Now all was bustle, and we hastened on deck. Our antagonist was a large brig, three hundred tons at the least, a long low vessel, painted black out and in, and her sides round as an apple, with immensely square yards. She was apparently full of men. The sun was getting low, and she was coming down fast on us, on the verge of the dark-blue water of the sea-breeze. I could make out ten ports and nine guns of a side. I inwardly prayed they might not be long ones; but I was not a little startled to see through the glass that there were crowds of naked negroes at quarters, and on the forecastle and poop. That she was a contraband Guineaman I had already made up my mind to believe and that she had some fifty hands of a crew I also considered likely; but that her captain should have resorted to such a perilous measure—perilous to themselves as well as to us—as arming the captive slaves, was quite unexpected, and not a little alarming, as it evinced his determination to make the most desperate resistance.
Tom Cringle's Log Page 48
