The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales

by Robert E. Howard

  There was no doubt about their answer—there could be none. In one way it was almost as if the cruiser herself gave reply, for there was the roar of a great gun when Black had finished speaking, and a shot hissed from above our poop and burst in the seas beyond us. A mighty shout followed, but was converted instantly into a cry of warning, as the forward hands sang out—

  “Look out aft—the torpedo!” and other hands took up the cry, yelling “The torpedo! The torpedo!”

  The tiny line of foam was just visible for a second in the way of the light; but, the moment the cruiser had shot it from her tube, she extinguished her arc, leaving us to light the waters with our own. There was no difficulty whatever in following the line of the deadly message, and for a moment every heart, I doubt not, almost stood still.

  “Full speed astern!” roared Black, forgetting himself, but instantly ringing the bell, and the nameless ship moved backwards, faster and yet faster. But the black death-bearer followed her, as a shark follows a death-ship; we seemed even to have backed into its course—it came on as though to strike us full amidships.

  The excitement was almost more than I could bear; I turned away, waiting for the tremendous concussion; I heard awful curses from the men, the cowardly shouting of “Roaring John,” the blasphemies of “Dick the Ranter.” I knew that Black alone was calm; and at the last I fixed my eyes upon him when the head of the torpedo’s foam was not thirty yards away from us. In that supreme moment the power of the man rose to a great height. He grasped the situation with the calmness of one thinking in bed; and waiting motionless for some seconds, which were seconds almost of agony to the rest of us, he cried of a sudden—

  “Hard a-starboard!” and the helm went over with a run.

  The movement was altogether superb. The great ship swung round with a majestic sweep, and as we waited breathlessly, the torpedo passed right under our bow, missing the ram by a hair’s-breadth. The reaction was nigh intolerable; the men waited for some seconds silent as the voice-less; then their cheers rang away over the seas in a great volume of sound, which must have re-echoed down in the caverns of the Atlantic.

  “You, Dick,” ordered Black, “return the lubbers that, or I’ll whip you;” and Dick, who had got his wits back, replied—

  “Skipper, if I dinna dive into their internals, gie me sax dozen.”

  “Hands to quarters,” continued the skipper; “let no man show himself till I call, then him as doesn’t fight for all he’s worth, let him prepare to swing.”

  With this there fell a great busyness, the men going, some to the turrets, some to the magazines below.

  Black had not noticed me during the episode of the torpedo, but he turned round now, and, seeing that I stood near him, he beckoned me into the conning-tower with him. It was a chamber lined with steel with a small glass for the look-out, and electric knobs which allowed communication with the engine-rooms, the wheel, the turrets, and the magazines. From that pinnacle of metal you could navigate the ship, and there Black fought the battle of that night and of the days following. And as I stood at his side I learned from his running comments much of the course of the fight.

  “Boy,” he said, “what I’m worth I’m going to show this night; and, as your eyes are younger than mine, I’m going to borrow the loan of them. That hen-coop yonder with the Government flag on her isn’t far from company, you may be pretty sure. She’s help near, and from that help I’m going to cut her off, and quick. Take your stand here by me, and watch the seas while I manage the light.”

  He had his hand upon a little tap which enabled him to throw the arc upon every point of the horizon, and, as the light travelled, he asked me—

  “Do you make out anything? Is there more of ’em at her heels?”

  “Nothing that I can see; she seems alone.”

  “Then God help her, though we’re only running two engines. Now watch the shot.”

  The focus was then upon the cruiser, whose own light kept playing upon the horizon as though searching for a convoy she awaited. But when the conning-tower shook with the thunder of our fore gun, the other reeled, and her arc light went out with a great flash.

  “That’s a hit,” I exclaimed with ridiculous want of control; “I believe you’ve hit her abaft the funnel. Yes, I can see the list on her; you’ve hit her clean.”

  His face never moved at the intelligence, but he rang the order “Hard to port!” and we weathered round, showing our aft turret to the enemy, whose bark for the moment was stilled.

  “Watch again,” said Black, as he rang to the turret chamber, and the aft gun roared; but I could not see that the shot struck, and I told him so.

  “I’ll give that parson a dozen if he does that again,” he remarked, unmoved by the crash of a shot which struck us right under our turret. Then he took a cigar and spoke between his teeth when he had lighted it—

  “There’s twelve inches of steel there,” he said with a laugh; “let ’em knock on it and welcome. Don’t you smoke?—I always do; it keeps my head clear.”

  Two more shots, one right above the engine-room and the second at the ram, answered his levity.

  “Come on, you devils!” he blurted out with glee. “Come in and dance, by thunder, while I play ye the tune! Now hearken to it.”

  We came up again, and fired at the cruiser, hitting her right under the funnel, and a second time near her fore gun, so that you could see her reel and shiver even under the rays of the search-light. Nor did she answer our firing, but rolled to the swell apparently out of action. All this I could see, and I answered the skipper’s hurried and anxious questions as every fresh movement was visible.

  “What’s she doing, eh?” he asked. “Did that stop her? Is she coaling up, or does she signal? Lord, if I had the oil I’d sweep the sea from New York to Queenstown. What is it, boy?—why don’t you answer me?”

  “You don’t give me time; but I can see now. She’s coaling up, and there are men forward working with oars.”

  “Do you say that?” he said, pushing me away from the glass. “Do you say that she’s coaling? By thunder, you’re right! We’ll have her oil yet; and then let them as come after me look to themselves!”

  As he said the last word he stepped from the conning-tower on to the bridge, and I followed him.

  There, at the distance of a third of a mile away on the starboard bow, was the crippled cruiser, helpless by her look; and our light fell full upon her, showing men in great activity upon her decks, and others running forward as though there were danger also in the fo’castle. The night around us was very dark, and the huge, heaving swell shone black as pitch in mountains and cavities below the gallery. We two were alone there upon the ocean, finishing that terrible duel—if, indeed, the end had not come, as I thought from the silence of the other.

  “Skipper, are you going aboard her now?” asked the man “Roaring John,” who came to us on the bridge. “She’s done by her looks, and you’ll get no oil if ye delay. Karl there, he ain’t as comfortable as if he were in his bed.”

  The little German was very far from it. He was almost desperate when minute by minute his stock of oil grew less; and he ran from one to the other, as though we had grease in our pockets, and could give it to him.

  Black took due notice, but did not lose his calm. His cigar was now glowing red, and he took it often from his mouth, looking at the lighted end of it as a man does who is thinking quickly.

  “You’re quite sure she’s done, John?” he asked, turning to the big man.

  “She’s done, I guess, or why don’t she spit? If she’s got another kick in her, send me to the devil!”

  The words had scarce left his lips when the cruiser’s aft guns thundered out almost together, and one shell passed through the very centre of our group. It cut the man John in half as he might have been cut by a sword, and his blood and flesh splashed us, while the other half of him stood up like a bust upon the deck, and during one horrible moment his arms moved wildly, and there was a ho
rrid quivering of the muscles of his face. The second shot struck the roof of the turret obliquely, and glanced from it into the sea. The destruction seemed to move Black no more than a rain shower. He simply cried: “All hands to cover; I’m going to give ’em a taste of the machine-guns;” and we re-entered the conning-tower. Then, as we began to move again, I swept the horizon with our light; but this time, far away over the black waste of water, the signal was answered.

  “Number two!” said Black quite calmly, when I told him, “and this time a battle-ship. Well, boy, if we don’t take that oil yonder in ten minutes you may say your prayers.”

  CHAPTER XXV.

  THE DUMB MAN SPEAKS.

  He put up the helm as he spoke, and brought our head round so that we were in a position to have rammed the cruiser had we chosen. This was not Black’s object. He desired first to cripple her completely, then to finish her with the Maxim guns.

  “Now, let’s see what that Scotsman’s worth,” he cried, as he laid down his cigar, and spoke through one of the tubes. Almost with his words the tower shook with the thunder, the twenty-nine ton gun in the fore turret belched forth flame, and the hissing shell struck the steamer over her very magazine. We waited for a response, but none came. She had received the shot, as it proved, right on her great gun; and the weapon lay shivered and useless, cast quite free from its carriage, while dead men were around it in heaps.

  “Dick’s earned his dinner,” said Black, taking up his cigar again, as he rang twice, and the men rushed to the small guns, and prepared to get them into action. “We’ll give ’em a little hail this time, for they haven’t the cover we have. If we don’t get aboard before the other comes up, they get the trick.”

  The nameless ship bounded forward into the night as he spoke, and, soon coming up with the helm a-starboard, she was not fifty yards away from her long opponent when the deadly steel storm began its havoc. For our part, the men had cover of a sort in the fore-top, and there were steel screens round the deck-guns; but when the cruiser replied with her own small arms many fell; and groans, and shrieks, and curses rose, and were audible even to us in the tower. Never have I known anything akin to that terrible episode when bullets rang upon our decks in hundreds, and the dead and the living in the other ship lay huddled together, in a seething, struggling, moaning mass. For she had little cover, being a cruiser, and we had opened fire upon her before such of her men as could be spared had got below.

  “Let ’em digest that!” cried Black, as he watched the havoc, and puffed away with serene calmness amidst the stress of it all; “let ’em swallow lead, the vultures. I’d sink ’em with one shot if it wasn’t for their oil; but they ain’t alone!”

  It was true. I, who had not ceased to watch that distant light which marked another warship on the horizon, knew that a second light had shone out as a star away over the sea; and now, when I looked again at his words, I saw a third light, but I had no courage to tell him of it. Indeed, we were being surrounded, and the danger was the greater for every minute of delay. The cruiser, although she suffered so grievously from the storm of lead which we rained upon her, had not hurled down her flag, and still replied to our fire, but more feebly. And the search-lights of the distant ships were clearer to my view every moment, so that I watched them alone at the last; and Black saw them, and took a sight from the glass. Then for the first time his cigar fell from his lips, and he muttered an exclamation which might have been one of fear.

  “Boy,” he said, “you should have told me of this. I see three lights, and that means a fleet of the devils to come. Well, I’ll risk it, as I’ve risked it before. If I can stop ’em now with a shot, the game’s ours; if she sinks, they trump us.”

  He gave a long order in careful words down through the tube to the turret; and, coming up to position, we fired at the cruiser for the last time, hitting her low down in the very centre of her engine-room. A great volume of steam gushed up from her deck, with clouds of smoke and fire; and as all shooting from her small arms ceased, we went out to the gallery, and the boats were cast free. A minute after, the ensign of the other was lowered, and we had beaten her.

  “You, ‘Four-Eyes,’ take the launch, and get her oil,” Black sang out at the sight; “you’ll have five hands, that’s all you want. Go sharp, if you’d save your skins!”

  I stood on the gallery, and watched the passage of the small boat, which was at the side of the maimed cruiser almost in a moment. There was no longer any resistance to our men, for the hands of the other ship had too much work of their own to do. I saw some running quickly to the aft boats, while some were bearing wounded from below, and others stood beneath the bridge taking orders from a very young officer, who had no colleagues in the work. Not that there was any confusion, only that awful crying of strong men in their agony, of the dying who feel death’s hand upon them, of the wounded who had pain which was hardly to be endured. For a long time it seemed as though no one heard the hail of “Four-Eyes” to be taken aboard; and when at last we watched him get on deck, he met with no resistance, but did as he would. Under the spreading rays of our great arc you could follow the whole scene as though by day—the hurrying crowd of seamen, the work at the boat, the fear and terror of it all. And you could see at the last a sight which to Black had more import than anything else in that picture of distress and desolation.

  The great ship began to heel right over. Her stern came high out of the water, so that her screws were visible. She dipped her foc’s’le clean under the breaking sea; and so she rode during some terrible minutes. Her own men now cast off their boats anyhow, leaving the wounded, who cursed, or implored, or prayed, or shrieked; but “Four-Eyes” did not come, and Black raved, looking away where the search-lights of the other ships now showed their rapid approach. To this extraordinary man it was the great cast of life. If the cruiser went down and his men got no oil, we should infallibly be taken by the warships then coming upon us; and I wonder not that in that moment he lost something of his old calm, pacing the bridge with nervous steps, and alternately cursing or imploring the men who could not hear.

  “Why don’t they come?” he asked desperately. “The lazy, loitering snails! What are they doing there? Do you see her heeling? She can’t weather that list another five minutes. Dick! for God’s sake signal to them—the creeping vermin! Ahoy, there! Do you hear me? You aboard, are you looking to live tomorrow, or will you lay a hundred fathoms under—look, boys! Do you see them lights? They’re warships, three of ’em! We’ve got to show ’em our heels, and we can’t—we’ve no oil, not a gallon! And they’re taking their ease like fine gentlemen aboard there—the guzzling swine—but I’ll stir ’em! You Dick, fire a shot at ’em!”

  Dick had just answered him, saying, “Ay, Captain, I’ll gie him a wee bit o’ iron in his gizzard,” when his further words were broken on his lips, for our hands appeared at the ladder of the doomed steamer, and they tumbled into the launch anyhow, flying madly from her side as she plunged to a huge sea, and with one mighty roll went headlong under the surface of the Atlantic. At that moment day broke, and, as the silver light of the dawn spread over the dark of the sea, we saw three ironclads approaching us at all their speed, and then not three miles distant from us. But the launch was at our side, and as Black leant over, and the new light lit up his bloodshot eyes and haggard face, he asked, with hoarseness in his voice—

  “Have ye got the oil?”

  “Not a drop!” replied the cox.

  The strong man reared himself straight up, and he turned to Karl, at his side. In that moment he was really great, and I shall never forget the nonchalance with which he drew another cigar from his case and lighted it. The two men, who had found their calm as the danger thickened, were in perfect accord; and, as one descended the ladder to the engine-room with slow steps, the other went again to the tower, where I followed him.

  “Boy,” he said, “I’ve often wondered how this old ship would break up; now we’ll see, but she’s going to bite som
e of ’em yet, if she can’t last.”

  “Are you going to run for it?” I asked.

  “Run for it, with two engines, yes; but it’s a poor business. And we’ll have to fight! Well, who knows? There’s luck at sea as well as on shore. If I run, they’ll catch me in ten miles; but we’ll all do what we can. Now smoke and have a brandy-and-soda. You may not get another.”

  The drink I took, but his calm I could not share. If the nameless ship were trapped at last I had freedom; but of what sort? The freedom of a bloody fight, the lottery of life, the remote possibility that, the ship being taken, I should get to the shelter of the war-vessels. The man soon undeceived me on both points.

  “If we’re out-manœuvred and crippled in what’s coming,” said he, “I have given Karl my orders. This ship I’ve built and loved like a child isn’t going to knuckle under to any man living. She’s going to sink, lad, and we’re all going to blazes with her! What’s the odds? A man must die! Let him die on his own dunghill, say I, and a fig for the reckoning! We shall last out as long as we can, and then we’ll let the cylinders fill with hydrogen, and blow her up. But you’re not smoking.”

  The threat, so jaunty yet so terrible, was almost like a sentence of death to me. I looked from the glass of the tower, and saw the foremost ironclad but two miles away from us, and the others were sweeping round to cut us off if we attempted flight. In the old days, with the nameless ship at the zenith of her power, we should have laughed at their best efforts—have flown from them as a bird from a trap. But we lay with but two engines working, and a speed of sixteen knots at the best. Nor did we know from minute to minute when another engine would break down.

  At the beginning of this flight we almost held our own, shaping a curious course, which, if pursued, would have brought us ultimately to the Irish coast again. For some hours during the morning I thought that we gained slightly, and those following evidently felt that it would be a waste of shell to fire at us, for they were silent: only great volumes of smoke came from the funnels of the battleships, and we knew that their efforts to get greater speed were prodigious.