“So we are,” I replied, “on the day after tomorrow. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, sir.”
“That is why I sought you out, sir, for we have been ready to sail for three days now. We have only been waiting for tonight’s business to be transacted, and will now sail on the noonday tide tomorrow, for we will need all the help we can get to pass the Straits, you know, where the current always sets into the Atlantic. I must beg you to be aboard with all your dunnage by eleven. Until then, sir, my respects to all your company.”
And with that he was off, before I could utter a word of objection or expostulation.
How the rest of the evening was spent may be reckoned easy to conjecture.
It was far from easy in the doing, however. No-one who has not enjoyed the experience of inducing Mrs Bennet to pack in a hurry can really appreciate the task with which I was faced. Kitty, fortunately was no longer my responsibility, and Mrs Morland never had been, and I rejoiced at both facts, but I should be surprised if the trials Messrs Golightly and Morland were significantly less than mine.
Who would go a-travelling?
Chapter Eight : Modern Corsairs
We arrived on the dockside the following morning to find not a sign of the boat out to the Trade’s Increase.
Ensign Potter, who was still dogging our steps, expressed no surprise at this.
“You are not dealing with a King’s ship, or even a Company ship, sir,” he opined. “You must hire your own boat to take you out there.”
With Potter’s help, we engaged one of the less rascally-looking boatmen at the water’s edge, and set off in search of our ship. I know full well what my son-in-law Darcy will say when he hears that I had so far lowered myself as to be in search of Trade’s Increase, but I admit that at that moment I wished for it with all my heart.
It was a long pull out to the ship, a common-looking vessel with what appeared to be a sufficiency of masts and sails, but rather small compared to the Indiaman in which we had arrived. The water was not of the calmest, and waves, from time to time, slopped over the side, causing great alarm among the ladies, and some little annoyance among the gentlemen, too. Our procession up the gangplank from the wharf at the East India Dock in London had scarce prepared us for this mode of coming aboard, and still less for what was awaiting us when we reached the vessel.
I had imagined some form of ladder to be let down, and was almost taken aback when what I later learned is called a bosun’s chair was lowered.
We were, by now, old accomplished mariners, and found our quarters and rations no worse than we had expected. The crew had a rather rapscallionly look after the Indiaman, but the captain proved to be a conversable gentlemen, and not unlearned after his kind.
We all anticipated a fast, uneventful passage to Malta. Such hopes were dashed, however, on just the second day of the voyage, when the lookout announced a black galley following us, with all the appearance of a Barbary Corsair.
Captain Bigelow was not at all impressed by this news.
“I have paid my dues and will not pay again. Besides, we have a treaty with the Barbary States and should not be molested. Did not Sir Harry Neal bombard Algiers scarce twelve months ago to remind them of their place? This must be that Yussouf ibn Ayub that your Ensign Potter warned us about. He may be swarming with men, but he will never catch us on a wind. We must run for now, till he gets tired of rowing after us.”
This was obviously not the time to distract the captain, so I restrained my impatience until he had finished giving his orders to the crew.
“Do you anticipate any real danger?” I asked, as we turned left, or rather to port and presented our rear to the intruders. “I notice your men are preparing the guns. Should I warn the ladies?”
“Rather more wind would not come amiss, so you may whistle as much as you like, sir. The next quarter of an hour will tell, but I think it is freshening. But see how he flashes out his oars, the infamous …dog. Now you will see something, for a while.”
Our pursuer, indeed, seemed to gain speed almost instantly and it soon became obvious that he was overtaking us.
“Far be it from me to teach you your business, sir,” I ventured, “but do you not think that, perhaps….”
I had been about to suggest that we go a little faster ourselves, but at this point I was interrupted by the voice of Mrs Morland.
“What is this I hear, that we are actually being chased by real pirates? Can it be true? I have not been practised upon?”
“Quite true, madam,” replied the Captain. “There are your genuine corsairs behind us. What do you think of them in the flesh, if I may be permitted the expression?”
“You are on your own quarterdeck, captain. I think you may be permitted your own choice of words. But I must say they do not strike me as at all romantic at the moment, and I begin to doubt if Lord Byron ever met the genuine article. They are every bit as shabby as the last lot we encountered with the further addition of menace.”
“Perhaps you should retire downstairs, my dear,” I ventured to suggest, “your husband may have need of your assistance.”
“I think that you would be more welcome below than I am, Mr Bennet. I left Mrs Bennet having one of her turns, ably seconded by Mrs Golightly while James is plying them with his willow bark tea and the Reverend is praying for us all more earnestly than I can recollect hearing him before now. I could not bear to be cooped up down there with them, not knowing what is going on. And I am not at all afraid, for I overheard the captain tell you just now that there was no real danger.”
“So I did, ma’am, but that was before they had started their drum beats. See, or rather listen, how fast they are going now. Each beat of that drum is an oar stroke, and each oar stroke carries them a fathom nearer to us.”
“Then you do anticipate danger? Perhaps I should go down and fetch the little rifle Colonel Brandon gave me, and prepare to repel boarders?”
“I doubt there will be any need for that, ma’am. They cannot keep this pace up for long. Ten more minutes, fifteen at the most, and his rowers will start dropping out from sheer exhaustion no matter what the Raises do with their whips. Then we shall leave them standing, even if he goose wings his lateens. It will take us out of our way a little, and we may be late arriving in Valetta, but I am quite confident we shall get there.”
“So there is to be no action after all? Not a shot fired? How disappointing! I was so looking forward to telling my sisters how we had fought off a real pirate. Still I have no pressing desire to see the inside of a Moorish seraglio, so perhaps it is just as well.”
“There is no danger of that, Mrs Morland, believe me. He will try to get close enough to claw us up from afar, in the hope of damaging our rigging or even a mast, slowing us down enough to let him catch us, but those little popguns he carries will never fetch us at this range.”
As if to give the good captain the lie, his words were immediately followed by a puff of smoke from the bow of the galley, followed shortly by a boom, and then a crash and clang as our stern shuddered under the impact of a heavy shot.
“It appears I have underestimated yon gentleman,” said the captain, peering through his spyglass, “that was no popgun, certainly. That looks like a long eighteen-pounder they have mounted in their bow chase. They have done us some harm, but we do not appear to be taking in water, so there is no immediate cause for concern. I have never seen a piece of such size mounted on an Algerine before. As lightly built as they are, they will have felt the recoil. Yes, see, their speed is dropping off. He was risking all on that one last shot, and it has done him no good. See, his rowers are finished and he is falling behind. He will have his sails up in an instant, and will chase us for a while, hoping we do something silly, but we shall see the last of him by nightfall. Once he gives up, we shall attend to the damage and resume our course. So, there you are, Mrs Morland, you have had your brush with pirates, and more excitement than I should care to meet with every day. What do you think o
f your corsair now?”
“I think I shall never be afraid of one again, sir, or even think of the ruffians as romantic characters. I only regret that I missed the chance to take a shot at one myself.”
Our pursuer tried only two more shots at us, each one falling short by about the same margin.
“He is getting no nearer,” said the captain, “but, then, we are getting no further away. They say a stern chase is a long chase, and unless the wind strengthens this will be a long one indeed.”
“Is it so very stern?” I enquired. “Our assailant is fierce enough, I have no doubt, but you still do not seem over concerned.”
“It could hardly be more stern. He is directly astern of us, and I do not think we can do much about it. With his lateens, he can lie closer to the wind than we can, so this is our best point of sailing, although I think I might venture a reefed main course to add just a little more thrust without interfering too much with the fore course.”
To this I could only say “Ah!” and attempt to look wise.
“But perhaps you would be so kind, Mr Bennet, as to go and stick a knife into the mainmast and whistle as loud as you can for a while? It is supposed to raise the wind, you know, and although the mariners are far too superstitious to risk doing it themselves, I think they would be encouraged to see a gentleman such as yourself doing it for them.”
“Certainly,” I replied, “but what shall I whistle?”
“Oh, the tune does not signify, so long as it can be heard and is recognizably a whistle. Here, you may use my clasp knife.”
So I took the fearsome-looking implement and performed the task assigned me, although all I could think of whistling was Green Grow the Rushes Oh. I dare say I should have used something more inspiring and more nautical, Hearts of Oak, or Brave Benbow or some such, but that was all that came to me. It was all superstitious nonsense anyway.
But nonsense or not, it worked, for I had scarce got past the nine bright shiners when the wind began to blow more strongly from the south-west. When I returned to the quarter deck I found the captain and Mrs Morland quietly rejoicing.
“See!” said the former, “I told you we should have the legs of him, goose winged or not. He will be hull down by sunset. We shall give him an hour after that to lose his mastheads and then we can turn quietly on our way and make good our ground for Valetta.”
“But could the villain not compute the course you will take and lie in wait for us along it?” I enquired.
“He could. But why should he give himself the trouble? It takes him further from home, and these craft carry no great load of stores, relying on quick in and out for their gains. And there will be another victim along tomorrow at a more convenient point. No, mark my words, sir, we shall soon have seen the last of our friend there. Meanwhile, we have plenty of searoom, and need not trouble ourselves about lee shores. You may sleep soundly tonight.”
And I must admit that I did precisely that, although some confused shouting and banging in the small hours disturbed me somewhat. The cause of this disturbance was revealed when we came on deck the following morning.
The quarter deck seemed positively thronging with mariners, sawing, hammering, hauling on ropes and, as far as I could see, generally getting in each other’s way as well as that of the passengers. The captain was nowhere to be seen, but I caught the eye of the mate as he came down the steps to the waist.
“I cannot stop long, Mr Bennet,” he said, “I have an urgent errand, but you’ll be wanting to know what’s afoot, no doubt?”
I signified my agreement and he continued,
“Yon wicked Moor did us more damage than we thought. When we tried to alter course in the night the top gudgeon came right out of the sternpost, and she has not answered the helm since. Instead of being safely on our way to Valetta, we are obliged to run before the wind and we are now heading in the general direction of Rome, with nothing to be done about it for now.”
“But something must be done, surely?” I cried. “With all your combined skill and craft, you must have met such problems before.”
“This is not a King’s ship, sir, nor yet an Indiaman, with a blacksmith on board with his own brick-built forge to fashion new gudgeons, let alone pintles if the need should arise. The captain is over the side now, sir, dangling on a rope to get at the damage, and if there is anything to be done, he will see to it. But for now sir I must beg you to let me pass, and to restrain your family from coming on deck while the work is in hand.”
It was obvious that, for now, passengers were singularly de trop, and, indeed, with sailors running about in every direction carrying baulks of wood and coils of rope, calling out all the while their mysterious nautical incantations of the ‘Gloop your herrings! Scandalize your bedsocks! Thropple the prawling strangles!’ variety, the deck was like to be a dangerous place for the inexperienced, so I retreated to the common room, where I found everyone up and waiting expectantly.
“What is going on, Papa?” asked Kitty. “What is all the banging and shouting about? And why have we all been penned downstairs like so much livestock? Have you not spoken to the captain?”
“The captain is busy just now,” I replied, “but I have spoken to Mr Gillespie. As far as I can make out our rudder was damaged in yesterday’s little adventure, and we cannot turn round to get back onto our proper course until it is repaired. That is what the noise is about. I have been on deck and do not recommend the experience until the repairs are accomplished. There is so much clutter about the floor and so many seamen running about that a stay up there for any length of time will be uncomfortable at best, and potentially dangerous.”
“Oh, Mr Bennet,” cried my darling wife, never one to waste an opportunity, for despair, “dangerous, you say? There is danger! We are sinking, I have felt so for the past age, ever since that vile pirate fired upon us. I told you, Mr Bennet, I told you that we should have brought cork jackets. Now we shall all drown, and my comfort shall be that I was right all along.”
“I am glad to see that you are not without comfort, my dear, but I am convinced that we are in no present danger of sinking. The captain himself told me that the ship was not taking in water. It is a problem with the steering, nothing more, and repairs are in hand even as we speak. Let us content ourselves with contemplating the brilliant blue of the waves through the casements, and congratulate ourselves that the restoration of our ability to proceed on our way does not rest upon our own efforts.”
The banging and clattering lasted most of the day, and we were kept below decks the whole of the time. Captain Bigelow did not join us for lunch, which was presided over by Mr Gillespie.
“We have a big job in hand,” he replied to our enquiries as to the state of the vessel, “ and the skipper is fussing over it like a mother hen and can’t bear to leave it until he is satisfied. To hear him you would think no-one else had ever rigged a block and tackle. But we make progress, and we should be on our way by tonight.”
“But what, exactly, is the problem?” enquired Mr Golightly. “We should all like to know, even if we can do nothing about it.”
“In the simplest of layman’s terms, sir, that vile pirate shot our rudder off, and without it we cannot turn, but must run before the wind, which is carrying us further from our destination with every minute that passes.”
“But how could one lucky shot do so much damage? Was the rudder not attached properly in the first place?”
“Exactly how it came about is what we are in the process of establishing, sir.”
“The captain spoke of gudgeons and pintles to me,” I remarked, “but the only gudgeon I know is a kind of fish, and how that can be relevant I cannot see.”
“The gudgeons are the brackets, the sockets which hold the pintles, and the pintles are the pins or axles on the rudder, which fit into the gudgeons and on which the rudder turns. The upper gudgeon has been knocked right out of its bedding in the sternpost by the force of the shot, and the lower pintle has been bent by th
e leverage from the upper part of the rudder.”
“And cannot this be repaired, sir?” asked Mrs Moreland.
“We are not an Indiaman, ma’am, nor yet a King’s ship with its brick-built forge and expert blacksmith. We should need to straighten the bent pintle and forge a new gudgeon, with arms long enough to reach right through the damaged timbers. We have neither the men nor the equipment to do such a job, which must wait until we dock.”
“Then, what are you doing?” asked Golightly.
“We are rigging up a jury-rudder. We have hung the rudder in the lower gudgeon by the upper pintle. This should serve until we get to Malta, unless we meet some disagreeable weather. Now we are busy rigging up tackle by which to turn it. When that is finished she should answer the helm, although we may not lie quite so near to the wind as we did. But forgive me, ladies and gentleman, I see I am wanted on deck.”
So saying, he followed the boy whose message had summoned him away, returning almost immediately with,
“Excuse me, Doctor, may I beg your assistance? The sheerlegs we were using has slipped and fallen on one of the crew, and I fear we may have broken bones to deal with.”
The banging now ceased for a while, but our mood was not greatly lightened by the screams that replaced it, and our conversation was less than brilliant that afternoon, I admit.
The sun was low on the horizon on our right hand, or, rather, starboard side before we were again allowed on deck.
“So, Mr Bennet,” said the captain, “what do you think of our jury rudder? I fear there is not so much room for your promenades on the quarter deck, but it will only be for a few days.”
I knew not what to say about the spider’s web of cables that now crisscrossed from the wheel to two huge blocks at each end of the sternrail, via other formidable pulleys en route, so I contented myself by saying how ingenious it looked and asking whether it would serve.
“Oh, it’s not very pretty,” answered Mr Bigelow, “but at least she answers the helm now. She’s a trifle sluggish, and I should not care to tack into a gale with her, but she should get us there if we nurse her a bit. We must take care that the other pintle does not go, or the other gudgeon, with all the weight on one bearing, so I shall not tack at all, if I can help it. I fear you may have a wearing time of it, for we shall be wearing all the way to Valetta if I have my way, ha ha!”
Our Neighbours' Sport Beyond the Seas Page 6
