The Pirate Island

by Harry Collingwood

  The skipper was apparently plunged deep in thought, for he made no reply.

  “Does it not strike you, Bowles, that there is something rather peculiar about the craft, and her crew?” remarked Lance.

  “These Yankees are generally a queer lot,” answered the mate nonchalantly; but immediately afterwards he made a sudden and stealthy movement of his fingers to his lips, while the ladies were looking in another direction, throwing at the same time an expression of so much caution and mystery into his glance that Lance made no attempt to continue the conversation.

  Shortly afterwards Captain Staunton rose from his seat at the table, and, touching his chief mate lightly on the shoulder, said—

  “Come, Bowles, let us go on deck and see if we can make terms with this Captain Johnson. The rest of you had perhaps better follow that gentleman’s advice in the meantime and remain here, since he evidently has some motive for expressing the wish.”

  As the two were ascending the companion-ladder the skipper turned and whispered hurriedly to his mate—

  “What is your opinion of things in general Bowles?”

  “Can’t say yet,” answered that individual. “Looks mighty queer though. She ain’t a man-o’-war, that’s certain.”

  On reaching the deck they found the after-hatch off, and their host in somewhat hot discussion with the ship’s carpenter.

  “That is quite sufficient,” they heard him say, without a trace of the Yankee twang in his speech, “you have your orders, and see that they are executed forthwith. In this matter I intend to have my own way.”

  The man muttered something in a sullen undertone, and then turned to go forward, saying he would get his tools and set about the job at once.

  Johnson turned impatiently away from him with an ugly frown upon his brow, which however vanished in an instant upon his finding our two friends at his elbow.

  “See here, stranger,” he said, passing his arm within that of Captain Staunton, and drawing him toward the hatchway, “I want to show you what I’m going to do. See them beams? Waal, I’m going to send some hands down below to trim a few of them bales you see there up level with the tops of the beams; then we’ll lay a couple of thicknesses of planking over all, which ’ll make a tol’able floor; and then I’m going to have a sail nailed fore and aft to the deck-beams, dividing the space into two, one for the women-folks and one for the men; and another sail hung athwart-ships ’ll make all sorter snug and private; and I guess you’ll have to make yourselves as comfortable as you can down there. You see the brig’s small, and your party’s a large one, and—I guess that’s the best I can do for you.”

  “Thank you,” said Captain Staunton. “As far as we men are concerned, we can manage perfectly well down there; but I’m afraid it will be rather a comfortless berth for the ladies. And yet I do not see very well what else can be done—unless indeed we could come to some arrangement by which you and your chief mate could be induced to surrender the cabin altogether for their use—”

  “Which we can’t,” Johnson broke in sharply. “I tell you, stranger, it ain’t to be done. I reckon I was a fool to let you come aboard here at all. It was seein’ that little girl of yours that did it,” he added, his voice at once softening again, “but I guess there’s going to be trouble about it yet, before all’s done.”

  “Oh, no, I hope not,” returned the skipper. “Why should there be trouble, or with whom? Certainly not with us.”

  “Waal, I hope not,” said Johnson. “But I reckon you’ll have to do just exactly as I say, strangers, or I tell you I’ll not answer for the consequences.”

  “Assuredly we will,” observed Captain Staunton. “And as for the inconvenience, we must put up with it as best we can, and I only hope we shall not be compelled to intrude upon your hospitality for any great length of time. Indeed you might rid yourself of our presence in a fortnight by running us across to Valparaiso; and I think I could make it worth your while to do so.”

  Johnson turned away and walked thoughtfully fore and aft, with his chin sunk upon his breast, evidently in painful thought, for some ten minutes; then he rejoined the pair he had left standing at the hatchway, and said—

  “See here, strangers; I reckon it’s no use to mince matters and go beating about the bush; the thing’s got to come out sooner or later, so you may as well know the worst at once. You must give up all notion of going to Valparaiso, because the thing ain’t to be done. We’re a crew of free-traders, rovers—pirates, if that term ’ll serve to make matters more clear to you; and although we’ve only been cruising in these waters about six months, I guess we’ve made things too hot here for us to venture into any port but the one we’re bound to. There you’ll be put ashore, and I calculate you’ll have to make yourselves useful at the depôt. There’s plenty of work to be done there, and not too many to do it, so you’ll be valuable there. I won’t keep you on board here, because I can see you’d never work with me or be anything else but an anxiety to me; but there you can’t do me any harm. And, take my advice, stranger, don’t cut up rough—go slow and sing small when you get there, because my chief mate—who is a Greek, and is in charge there—is a powerful short-tempered man, and apt to make things downright uncomfortable for them that don’t please him.”

  Captain Staunton and Bowles looked each other in the face for a full minute, too much overcome by consternation and dismay to utter a single word. Then the skipper, recovering himself, turned to Johnson, who stood by intently watching them, and said:

  “I thank you, sir, for having come to the point and put our position thus explicitly before us with so little waste of time. Happily the evil is not yet irreparable. We can never be anything but a source of anxiety and disquietude to you, as you have already admitted; therefore I trust you will allow us to return to our boat as we came; by which act we shall relieve you of a very great embarrassment, and at the same time give ourselves a chance—a very slight one, it is true—of arriving at the place we are so anxious to reach.”

  “Too late, stranger,” replied Johnson. “Here you are, and here you must now stay. Look over the side and you will see that your boat is no longer there. She was stove and cast adrift half an hour ago. And even if she had still been alongside, do you think my men would let you go now that you have been aboard of us and seen our strength? I tell you, stranger, that before you could get ten yards from the brig they would bring her broadside to bear upon you and send you all to the bottom, riddled with grape, and I couldn’t stop ’em. No; you’re here, and I reckon you’ll have to stay and make the best of it. You’ll find your traps down below there; the lads wanted to overhaul them, but I guess I shamed them out of that,” drawing half out of his pockets a pair of revolvers as he spoke.

  “Are we to consider ourselves as prisoners then, and to look upon the hold there as our jail?” inquired Captain Staunton.

  “That’s as you please,” retorted Johnson. “So long as you keep quiet and don’t attempt any tricks you can come on deck as often as you like—only don’t let the women-folks show themselves, or they’ll get into trouble, and I—nor you—won’t be able to help ’em. Tell ’em to stay in the cabin until it’s dark to-night, and then when all’s quiet, the watch below in their hammocks and the watch on deck ‘caulking’ between the guns, just you muffle ’em up and get ’em down there as quick as ever you can.”

  “And what about the rest of my people—those of them who were sent forward to the forecastle?” inquired Captain Staunton.

  “Waal,” replied Johnson, “I felt myself sorter obliged to clap ’em in irons down in the fore-hold. You see you muster a pretty strong party, and though you could never take the brig from us, I didn’t know what you might be tempted to try, when you found out the truth; and so, just to prevent accidents, I had the irons slipped on to ’em. They’ll be well treated, though; and if any of ’em likes to jine us, so much the better—we’re uncommon short-handed, one way and another. If they don’t like to jine, they’ll just be pu
t ashore with you to work at the depôt. And, see here, stranger, don’t you go for to try on any tricks, either here or ashore, or it’ll be awful bad for you. This is a friendly warning, mind; I’d like to make friends with you folks, for, to tell you the solid petrified truth, I ain’t got one single friend among all hands. The mate hates me, and would be glad to put me out of the way and step into my shoes, and he’s made the men distrust me.”

  “Why not retire from them altogether, then?” inquired Captain Staunton.

  “Because I can’t,” answered Johnson. “I’m an outlaw, and dare not show my face anywhere in the whole civilised world for fear of being recognised and hanged as a pirate.”

  “A decidedly unpleasant position to be in,” remarked the skipper. “However, if there is any way in which we can lawfully help you, we will do so; in return for which we shall of course expect to be treated well by you. Now, Bowles,” he continued, turning to his chief mate, “let us talk this matter over, and discuss the manner in which this bad news can best be broken to the others.”

  Saying which, with a somewhat cold and formal bow to the pirate, Captain Staunton linked his arm in that of his chief mate, and walked away.

  The two promenaded the deck for nearly an hour, “overhauling the concern in all its bearings,” as Bowles afterwards described it, and they finally came to the conclusion that it would be only fair to let their companions in misfortune know the worst at once, then all could take counsel together, and as “in a multitude of counsellors there is wisdom,” some one might possibly hit upon a happy idea whereby they might be enabled to escape from this new strait.

  They accordingly descended to the cabin, where their reappearance had been anxiously looked for.

  “Well, captain,” exclaimed Dale upon their entrance, “what news have you for us? Have you made arrangements for our conveyance to Valparaiso? I hope we are not going to be kept cooped up very long in this wretched little vessel.”

  “We are to leave her sooner than I anticipated,” replied Captain Staunton, “but I regret to say that I have been quite unable to make any arrangements of a satisfactory character. And, as to news, I must ask you to prepare yourselves for the worst—or almost the worst—that you could possibly hear. We are on board a pirate, and in the hands of as unscrupulous a set of rascals as one could well encounter.”

  The skipper then proceeded to describe in extenso his interview with the pirate captain, throwing out such ideas as presented themselves to him in the course of his narrative, and winding up by pointing out to them that though the situation was serious enough it was not altogether desperate, the pirate leader being evidently anxious to escape from his present position, and as evidently disposed to look with friendly eyes upon all who might seem to have it in their power to assist him, either directly or indirectly, in the attainment of his purpose.

  “Our first endeavour,” he said in conclusion, “must be to impress upon this man that, though we are his prisoners, we are still a power, by reason of our numbers as well as of our superior intelligence and knowledge of the world, and that we can certainly help him if we have the opportunity; and this idea once firmly established in his mind, he will listen to and very possibly fall in with some of our suggestions, all of which, I suppose I need hardly say, must be made with a single eye to our own ultimate escape. Our future is beset by difficulties, very few of which we can even anticipate as yet; but I think if each one will only take a hopeful view of the situation, it will be singular indeed if one or another of us does not hit upon a means of escape.”

  By the time that he had finished speaking the brains of his hearers were literally teeming with ideas, all, that is to say, except Mr Dale, who, with elbows on the table, his head buried in his hands, and his hair all rumpled, abandoned himself to despair and to loud bewailings of the unfortunate combination of circumstances which led to his venturing upon the treacherous ocean. The others, however, knew him thoroughly by this time; and none troubled themselves to take the slightest notice of him except Rex Fortescue, who exclaimed—

  “Do shut up, Dale, and cease making a fool of yourself. I wonder that you are not ashamed to behave in this unmanly way, especially before ladies, too. If you can’t keep quiet, you know, we shall have to put you on deck, where I fancy you would get something worth howling about.”

  This threat had the desired effect; Mr Dale subsided into silence, and the rest of the party at once, in low cautious tones, began an interchange of ideas which lasted a long time but brought forth no very satisfactory result; the council finding itself at the close of the discussion pretty much where it was at the commencement.

  At one o’clock a thoroughly substantial dinner was served to them, followed by tea at six in the evening, at both of which meals the pirate captain did the honours with a manifest desire to evince a friendly disposition toward his guests, and about nine p.m. a quiet and unobtrusive removal from the cabin to their new quarters in the after-hold was effected; after which most of the party disposed themselves comfortably upon the bedding which they found had been provided for them, and enjoyed a night of thoroughly sound repose, such as they had been strangers to ever since the destruction of the Galatea.

  When our friends awoke on the following morning they became aware, by the motion of the ship and the sound of the water gurgling along her sides, that a breeze had sprung up. Most of the gentlemen—all of them, in fact, except Dale—went on deck, and, finding the watch busy washing decks, borrowed of them a few buckets with which they gave each other a most hearty and refreshing salt water douche, much to the amusement of the crew.

  As soon as breakfast was over, Lance, with that cool insouciance characteristic of the man who has so often found himself environed by perils that he ceases to think of them, went again on deck, with the intention of mingling freely with the pirate crew, and, if possible, placing himself upon such easy terms with them as would give him an opportunity of acquiring whatever information it might be in their power to give. The first individual he saw on emerging from the hatchway was Johnson, the pirate captain, who was leaning moodily over the lee rail abaft the main-rigging, smoking a well-seasoned pipe.

  “Good morning, captain,” exclaimed Lance genially, as he sauntered up to the man. “What a delightful morning—and how good your tobacco smells! I have not enjoyed the luxury of a pipe for the last fortnight; have you any tobacco to spare?”

  “Help yourself, stranger,” answered Johnson rather surlily, as he tendered his tobacco-pouch.

  “Thanks,” said Lance, returning the pouch after he had filled and lighted his pipe. “Ah! how good this is,” as he took the first whiff or two. “You have a fine breeze after yesterday’s calm; and the brig seems quite a traveller in her small way.”

  “In her small way!” exclaimed Johnson indignantly; “why, she’s a flyer, stranger, that’s what she is. I reckon you don’t know much about ships, or you wouldn’t talk like that. I guess you ain’t a sailor, are you?”

  “I am a soldier by profession,” answered Lance, “but for all that I am not exactly an unmitigated land-lubber; on the contrary I am quite an enthusiastic yachtsman, and I flatter myself that I know a good model when I see one.”

  “And yet you don’t take much account of the brig, stranger?”

  “She seems a good enough little craft of her kind,” admitted Lance, “and as a mere trader I have no doubt she would answer well enough. But it strikes me that, to gentlemen of your profession, a really fast and powerful vessel is an absolute necessity if you would insure your own safety. In weather like this I daresay you would manage tolerably well; but if a frigate were by any chance to fall in with you in a fresh breeze, or, worse still, in heavy weather, I fear you would find yourselves in a ‘tight place;’ she would have you under her guns in less than an hour.”

  “That’s so, stranger; yes, I reckon that’s so,” conceded Johnson with evident reluctance. “There are ships as can outsail us, I know, for we’ve fallen in with some half a doze
n clippers, and we couldn’t do nothing with ’em; they just walked away from us. And though I don’t calculate that there’s ever a frigate afloat as could get alongside them tea-ships if the tea-ships didn’t want ’em to, yet I guess there’s frigates as could overhaul us in heavy weather. And so you’re a yachtsman, eh? Then I reckon you know something about quick sailing. How fast, now, do you calculate a yacht would sail in this breeze?”

  “That depends entirely upon the build and model of the craft. If she were a racing schooner of, say the tonnage of this brig, I daresay her speed under such circumstances as these would be thirteen or perhaps fourteen knots; if, however, she were merely a cruising yacht, such as my own, I do not imagine she would average more than eleven.”

  “Eleven knots! Jeosh—I say, stranger, how many knots do you reckon we are making just now?” exclaimed Johnson.

  Lance looked over the side for a moment, marked a piece of weed floating past, and then answered—

  “About eight, I should think; certainly not more.”

  “I guess you’re wrong, stranger,” returned the pirate skipper with animation, “she’s going ten if she’s going an inch.”

  “You can easily test it by heaving the log,” suggested Lance.

  “Aft here, two of you, and heave the log,” shouted Johnson.

  Two men came sauntering aft, at the call; the line and glass were prepared; and Johnson himself made ready to test the speed of the brig.

  “Turn!” he cried to the man who held the glass, as the last of the “stray” passed out over the taffrail.

  The glass was smartly turned; the reel spun rapidly round; the marks flew through Johnson’s fingers, and his countenance brightened with exultation.

  “Stop!”

  The sand had all run out; and Johnson grasped the line just before the eighth knot reached his hand.