CHAPTER III
HELD AS HOSTAGES TO BLACKBEARD
TO discover the pestilent Blackbeard in Carolina waters was like athunderbolt from a clear sky. Captain Wellsby had felt confident that hecould beat off the ordinary pirate craft which was apt to be smallerthan his own stout ship. And most of these unsavory gentry were meresalt-water burglars who had little taste for hard fighting. The masterof the _Plymouth Adventure_, so pious and sedate, was a brave man towhom the thought of surrender was intolerable. From what he knew ofBlackbeard, it was useless to try to parley for the lives of hispassengers. Better it was to answer with double-shotted guns than to begfor mercy.
The British tars, stripped to the waist, turned anxious eyes to theskipper upon the quarter-deck while they quaffed pannikins of rum andwater and cracked many a rough jest. They fancied death no more thanother men, but seafaring was a perilous trade and they were toughened toits hazards. They were facing hopeless odds but let the master shout thecommand and they would send the souls of some of these pirates sizzlingdown to hell before the _Plymouth Adventure_ sank, a splintered hulk, inthe smoke of her own gunpowder.
Captain Wellsby delayed his decision a moment longer. Something mostunusual had attracted his attention. A ball of smoke puffed from a portof Blackbeard's ship, but the round shot splashed beyond the bowsprit ofthe _Plymouth Adventure_ instead of thudding into her oaken side. Thiswas a signal to heave to. It was a courtesy both unexpected andperplexing, because Blackbeard's habit was to let fly with all the gunsthat could bear as the summons to submit. Presently a dingy bit of clothfluttered just beneath the black flag. It looked like the remains of apirate's shirt which had once been white.
"A signal for a truce?" muttered Captain Wellsby. "A ruse, mayhap, butthe rogue has no need to resort to trickery."
The two sloops of Blackbeard's squadron, spreading tall, squaretopsails, came driving down to windward in readiness to fire theirbow-chasers and form in line of battle. The passengers of the _PlymouthAdventure_, snatching at the chance of safety, implored the skipper tosend his men away from the guns lest a rash shot might be their ruin.They prayed him to respect the precious flag of truce and to ascertainthe meaning of it. Mystified and wavering in his purpose, he told themates to back the main-yard and heave the ship to.
Upon his own deck Blackbeard was stamping to and fro, bellowing at hiscrew while he flourished a broadsword by way of emphasis. The haplesscompany of the _Plymouth Adventure_ shivered at the very sight of himand yet there was something almost ludicrous in the antics of thisatrocious pirate, as though he were play-acting upon the stage of atheatre. He had tucked up the tails of his military coat because thewind whipped them about his bandy legs and made him stumble. The flowingwhiskers also proved bothersome, wherefore he looped them back over hisears by means of the bows of crimson ribbon. This seemed to be hispersonal fashion of clearing for action.
"There be pirates and pirates," critically observed Mr. Peter Forbes ashe stared at the unpleasant Blackbeard. "This is a filthy beast, Jack,and he was badly brought up. He has no manners whatever."
"Parson Throckmorton would take him for the devil himself," gloomilyanswered the lad.
And now they saw Blackbeard raise a speaking-trumpet to his lips andheard the hoarse voice come down the wind with this message:
"The ship ahoy! Steady as ye be, blast your eyes, or I'll lay aboard andbutcher all hands."
He turned and yelled commands to the two sloops which now rolled withinpistol-shot. In helter-skelter style but with great speed, one boatafter another was lowered away and filled with armed pirates. They rowedtoward the _Plymouth Adventure_ and there were enough of them to carryher by boarding. In addition to this, she was directly under the guns ofBlackbeard's powerful ship. One valorous young gentleman passengerwhipped out a rapier and swore to perish with his face to the foe, butCaptain Wellsby kicked him into the cabin and fastened the scuttle. Thiswas no time for dramatics.
"It looks that the old ruffian comes on a peaceful errand," said theskipper, by way of comfort. But the hysterical ladies below decksredoubled their screams and one substantial merchant of Charles Townscrambled down to hide himself among them. Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbesfolded his arms and there was no sign of weakness in his pinkcountenance. His dignity still sustained him.
As agile as monkeys, the mob of pirates poured over the bulwark,slashing through the hammock nettings, and swept forward in a compactmass, driving Captain Wellsby's seamen before them and penning them inthe forecastle. Having cleared the waist of the ship, they loiteredthere until a few of them discovered the galley and pantry. They sweptthe shelves and lockers bare of food like a pack of famished wolves.Jack Cockrell looked at them from the poop and perceived that they werea gaunt, ragged lot. The skins of some were yellow like parchment, andfits of trembling overtook them. Something more than dissipation ailedthem.
With a body-guard of the sturdiest men, Blackbeard clambered up thepoop ladder and, with wicked oaths, told the skipper to stand forth.Clean and trig and carefully dressed, Captain Jonathan Wellsbyconfronted these savage, unwashed pirates and calmly demanded to knowtheir errand. It was plain to read that Blackbeard thought himself animposing figure. With a smirk and a grimace he bowed clumsily to a womanon deck who had refused to desert her husband. He growled like a bear atCaptain Wellsby and prodded the poor man with his cutlass as hethundered:
"You tried my patience, shipmaster, with your cracking on sail. A littlemore and I'd ha' slit your throat. Blood an' wounds, would ye dare tovex Blackbeard?"
Captain Wellsby faced him with unshaken composure and returned in astrong voice:
"I beg no favors for myself but these helpless people, women amongstthem, came on board with my assurance of safety. They have friends andkinsmen in Charles Town who will ransom them in gold."
Blackbeard's mien was a shade less ferocious as he cried:
"Gold? Can it cool a fever or heal a festering sore? A score of my menare down and the others are tottering ghosts. Medicines I must have. Afoul plague on those ports of the Spanish Main which laid my fine ladsby the heels."
Jack Cockrell, who had retreated to the taffrail, decided that thisunkempt pirate was not so absurd as he appeared. There was the strengthof a giant in those hulking shoulders and in the long arms which bulgedthe coat-sleeves, and the man moved with a quickness which made thatclumsy air deceptive. The beard masked his features but the eye was keenand roving, and he had a trick of baring his teeth in a nasty snarl. Heuttered no more threats, however, and seemed to be anxiously awaitingthe reply of Captain Wellsby, who said:
"The few medicines and simples in my chest will not suffice your need.Your ships are rotten with the Spanish fever."
"A ransom, shipmaster?" exclaimed the pirate. "'Twas in my mind when Iflew a white flag for parley. I will hold some of your fine passengersas hostages while the others go in to rake Charles Town for medicines tofetch back to my fleet."
"You will send my ship in?" asked the skipper.
"No! This _Plymouth Adventure_ is my good prize and I will overhaul thecargo and sink her at my leisure. My ship will tack in to Charles Townbar. Then let the messengers go in the long-boat to find the store ofmedicines. Harkee, shipmaster,--two days, no longer, for their return!Failing this, the hostages feed the fishes. Such sport 'ud liven thehearts of my doleful seamen."
It was a shameful bargain, thus to submit to a pirate's whim, but thewretched ship's company hailed it as a glad surprise. They had stood inthe shadow of death and this was a respite and a chance of salvation.Captain Wellsby was heart-sick with humiliation but it was not for himto take into his hands the fate of all these others. Sadly he noddedassent. Jack Cockrell nudged his uncle and whispered:
"Why doesn't he sail in with his three ships and take what he likes? Thetown lies helpless against such a force as this."
"Ssh-h, be silent," was the warning. "He is a wary bird of prey and hefears a trap. He dare not attack the port, since he lacks knowledge ofits defenses."
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Jack's cheek was rosy again and his knees had ceased to tremble. Therewas no immediate prospect of walking the plank. To be captured byBlackbeard was a finer adventure than strutting arm-in-arm with CaptainStede Bonnet. It was mournful, indeed, that Captain Wellsby should haveto lose his ship but 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good and thevoyage to England, which Jack had loathed from the bottom of his heart,was indefinitely postponed. Such an experience as this was apt todiscourage Uncle Peter Forbes from trying it again.
There were sundry chicken-hearted passengers anxious to curry favor withBlackbeard, who gabbled when they should have held their tongues, and inthis manner he learned that he had bagged the honorable Secretary of theProvincial Council. The bewhiskered pirate slapped his thighs and roaredwith glee.
"Damme, but he looks it! Alack that my sorry need of medicines compelsme to give quarter! Would I might swing this fat Secretary from atopsail yard! And a rogue of a lawyer to boot! He tempts me----"
"I demand the courtesy due a hostage," exclaimed Mr. Peter Forbes.
"Ho, ho, you shall be my lackey,--the chief messenger," laughedBlackbeard, showing his yellow teeth. "Hat in hand, begging medicinesfor me."
The honorable Secretary was near apoplexy. He could only sputter andcough. He was to be sent as an errand boy to the people of Charles Town,at the brutal behest of this unspeakable knave, but refusal meant deathand there were his fellow captives to consider. He thought of his nephewand was about to plead that Jack be sent along with him when Blackbearddemanded:
"What of the boy? He takes my eye. No pursy swine of a lawyer could sirea lad of his brawn and inches."
"I am Master Cockrell," Jack answered for himself, "and I would have youmore courteous to my worthy uncle."
It was a speech so bold that the scourge of the Spanish Main tugged athis whiskers with an air of comical perplexity. The headstrong Jack waskeen enough to note that he had made an impression and he rashly added:
"'Tis not long since I knocked a pirate on the head for incivility."
Mr. Peter Forbes gazed aghast, with slackened jaw, expecting to see hismad nephew cut down by the sweep of a broadsword, but Blackbeard merelygrinned and slapped the lad half-way across the deck with a buffet ofhis open hand. Dizzily Jack picked himself up and was furiously scoldedby his uncle. Their lives hung by a hair and this was no time to playthe fool. For once, however, Jack was the wiser of the two. In anamiable humor Blackbeard exclaimed:
"And so this strapping young jackanapes knocks pirates on the head!There be lazy dogs among my men that well deserve it. You shall stayaboard, Master Cockrell, whilst the juicy lubber of a lawyer voyagesinto Charles Town. He may sweat an' strive the more if I hold you as hissecurity. Zounds, I'll make a gentleman rover of ye, Jack, for I likeyour mettle."
It was futile for the unhappy uncle to argue the matter. He could onlyobey the tyrant's pleasure and hope for a speedy return and the releaseof the terrified passengers. The _Plymouth Adventure_ was ordered tohaul her course to the westward and jog under easy sail toward theCharles Town bar. Blackbeard was rowed off to his own ship, the_Revenge_, leaving his sailing-master and a prize crew. These amusedthemselves by dragging the weeping women on deck and robbing them oftheir jewels and money, but no worse violence was offered. Middle-agedmatrons and elderly spinsters, they were neither young nor fair enoughto be stolen as pirates' brides.
The _Revenge_ and the two sloops hovered within sight of the _PlymouthAdventure_ and their sails gleamed phantom-like in the darkness. Therewas little sleep aboard the captured merchant trader. Some of thepirates amused themselves with hauling chests and boxes out of thecabins and spilling the contents about the deck in riotous disorder. Onesprightly outlaw arrayed himself in a silken petticoat and floweredbodice and paraded as a languishing lady with false curls until theothers pelted him with broken bottles and tar buckets. By the flare oftorches they ransacked the ship for provisions, cordage, canvas, andheaped them ready to be dumped into boats.
Jack Cockrell looked on until he was too drowsy to stay awake and fellasleep on deck, his head pillowed on his arm. Through the night thewatches were changed to the harsh summons of the pirate sailing-masteror his mate. Once Jack awoke when a seaman staggered into the moonlightwith blood running down his face. He was not likely to be caught nappingon watch again.
At dawn the _Plymouth Adventure_ was astir and the _Revenge_ ran closeaboard to watch Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes and two prosperous merchantsof Charles Town bundled into the long-boat. Blackbeard shouted bloodythreats through his trumpet, reminding them that he would allow no morethan two days' grace for their errand ashore. Uncle Peter was deeplyaffected as he embraced his nephew and kissed him on the cheek. Jack'seyes were wet and he faltered, with unsteady voice:
"Forgive me, sir, for all the trouble I have made you. Never did Iexpect a parting like this."
"A barbarous coast, Jack, and a hard road to old England," smiled theSecretary of the Council. "Have a stout heart. By God's grace I shallsoon deliver you from these sea vermin."
The boy watched the long-boat hoist sail with a grizzled, scarred oldboatswain from the _Revenge_ at the tiller. It drove for the bluefairway of the channel between the frothing shoals of the bar and madebrave headway for the harbor. Then the ships stood out to sea to goclear of a lee shore and the captives of the _Plymouth Adventure_endured the harrowing suspense with such courage as they could muster.Should any accident delay the return of the long-boat beyond two days,even head winds or foul weather, or if there was lack of medicines inthe town, they were doomed to perish.
Jack Cockrell endured it with less anguish than the other wretchedhostages. He had the sublime confidence of youth in its own destiny andhe had found a chum in a boyish pirate named Joseph Hawkridge who saidhe had sailed out of London as an apprentice seaman in a ketch bound toJamaica. He had been taken out of his ship by Blackbeard, somewhere offthe Azores, and compelled to enlist or walk the plank. At first he wasmade cook's scullion but because he was well-grown and active, the chiefgunner had taken him over as a powder boy.
This Joe Hawkridge was a waif of the London slums, hard and wise beyondhis years, who had been starved and abused ever since he could remember.He had fled from cruel taskmasters ashore to endure the slavery of thesea and to be kidnapped into piracy was no worse than other things hehad suffered. A gangling lad, with a grin on his homely face, he hadcertain instincts of manliness, of decent conduct, although he had knownonly men whose souls were black with sin. Heaven knows where he learnedthese cleaner aspirations. They were like the reflection of a star in amuddy pool.
It was easy for Jack Cockrell to win his confidence. Few of hisshipmates spoke kindly or showed pity for him. And their youth drew themtogether. Jack's motive was largely curiosity as soon as he discoveredthat here was one of Blackbeard's crew ready to confide in him. The twolads chatted in sheltered corners of the deck, between watches, or metmore freely in the night hours. Jack shuddered at some of the tales thatwere told him but he harkened breathless and asked for more.
"Yes, this Blackbeard is the very wickedest pirate that ever sailed,"said Joe Hawkridge in the most matter-of-fact tones. "You have found himmerciful because he fears a mortal sickness will sweep through hisships."
"You have curdled my blood enough for now," admitted Jack. "Tell methis. What do they say of Captain Stede Bonnet? He chances to be afriend of mine."
Joe Hawkridge ceased to grin. He was startled and impressed. Realgentlemen like this young Cockrell always told the truth. Making certainthat they could not be overheard, Joe whispered:
"What news of Stede Bonnet? You've seen him? When? Did he cruise to thenorth'ard? Has he been seen off Charles Town?"
"He came ashore not long ago, and invited me to dinner at the tavernwith him," bragged Jack. "And he coaxed me to sign in his ship."
"Yes, you'd catch his eye, Cockrell, but listen! What ship had he, andhow many men? God strike me, but I'll not tattle it. I'm true as steelto Stede Bonnet. If you love me, d
on't breathe it here."
"There is no love lost betwixt him and Blackbeard?" excitedly queriedJack.
"Mortal foes they be, if you ask Stede Bonnet."
Feeling sure he could trust this young Hawkridge, Jack informed him:
"Stede Bonnet flies his pennant in a fine brig, the _Royal James_, withseventy lusty rovers. But what about him, Joe? Why does he hate thisfoul ogre of a Blackbeard? Did they ever sail together?"
"'Twas in the Bay of Honduras. Captain Bonnet was a green hand at thetrade but zealous to win renown at piratin'. And so he made compact withBlackbeard, to sail as partners. There was Stede Bonnet with a fine shipand his own picked crew. By treachery Blackbeard stole the vessel fromhim. Bonnet and his men were left to shift for 'emselves in a rotten oldhulk that was like to founder in a breeze o' wind."
"But they stayed afloat and took them a good ship," proudly exclaimedJack, with a personal interest in the venture.
"True, by what you say. D'ye see the _Revenge_ yonder, Blackbeard's tallcruiser? The very ship he filched from Stede Bonnet by dirty stratagemand broken oaths!"
"Then the powder will burn when next they meet?"
"As long as there's a shot in the locker, Jack. And Blackbeard's men areripe for mutiny. Let 'em once sight Stede Bonnet's topsails and----"
A gunner's mate broke into this interview with a cat-o'-nine-tails andflogged Joe Hawkridge forward to duty. He ducked and fled with afarewell grin at the nephew of the Secretary of the Council. Now allthis was diverting enough to keep Jack from bemoaning his fate, but theother passengers counted the hours one by one and their hearts began todrum against their ribs. They scanned the sea and the harbor bar withaching eyes, for the two days were well-nigh spent and there was never asign of the long-boat and the messengers with the ransom of medicineswhich should avert the sentence of death.
Sunrise of the second day brought them no comfort. The sea was gray andthe sky leaden, without the slightest stir of wind. The drifting vesselsrolled in a swell that heaved as smooth as oil. It was a calm whichpresaged violent weather. Against her masts the yards of the _PlymouthAdventure_ banged with a sound like distant thunder and the idle canvasslatted to the thump of blocks and the thin wail of chafing cordage.
Captain Jonathan Wellsby was permitted the freedom of the poop byBlackbeard's sailing-master who seemed a sober and competent officer.They were seen to confer earnestly, as though the safety of the shipwere uppermost in their minds. Soon the pirates of the prize crew wereordered to stow and secure all light sail and pass extra lashings aboutthe boats and batten the hatches. They worked slowly, some of themshaking with fever, nor could kicks and curses and the sting of thewhistling cat make them turn to smartly. The sailing-master signaled the_Revenge_ to send off more hands but Blackbeard was either drunk or inone of his crack-brained moods. With a laugh he pulled a brace ofpistols from his sash and blazed away at the _Plymouth Adventure._
The two sloops of the pirate squadron had sagged down to leeward duringthe night and were trying to work back to their stations when the deadcalm intervened. Their skippers had sense enough to read the weathersigns and had begun to take in canvas. On board of the _Revenge_,however, there was aimless confusion, the mates making some attempt toprepare the ship for a heavy blow while Blackbeard defied the elements.His idea of arousing his men was to try potshots with his pistols asthey crept out on the swaying spars.
It was quite apparent that the sailing-master was sorely needed in the_Revenge_, if order was to be brought out of this chaos, but he receivedno orders to quit the _Plymouth Adventure_. He was a proper seaman, NedRackham by name, who had deserted from the Royal Navy, after beingflogged and keel-hauled for some trifling offense. Rumor had it that hewas able to enforce respect from Blackbeard and would stand none of hisinfernal nonsense.
"In this autumn season we may catch a storm from the West Indies, Mr.Rackham," said Captain Wellsby. "The sea has a greasy look and thisheavy ground swell is a portent."
"The feel of it is in the air, shipmaster. There fell an evil calm likethis come two year ago when I was wrecked in a ship-of-the-line withinsight of Havana. Four hundred men sank with her."
"If my sailors were not penned in the fo'castle----" suggested themerchant skipper.
"None o' that," was the stern retort. "This ship is a prize toBlackbeard and so she stays, and you will sink or swim with her."
The morning wore on and the two days of grace had passed for thosedoleful hostages in the _Plymouth Adventure_. They beheld the black flaghoisted to the rigging of the _Revenge_ as a signal of tragic import,but the bandy-legged monster with the festooned whiskers was not todisport himself with this wanton butchery. The sky had closed darklyaround the becalmed ships, in sodden clouds which were suddenly obscuredby mist and rain while the wind sighed in fitful gusts. It steadied intothe southward and swiftly increased in force until the sea was whippedinto foam and scud.
Staunch and well-found, the _Plymouth Adventure_ went reeling off acrossthe spray-swept leagues of water, showing only her reefed topsails andcourses. The two pirate sloops vanished beyond the curtain of mist. Whenlast seen, one of them was dismasted and the other was laboring in graveperil. The _Revenge_ loomed as a spectral shape while Blackbeard wasendeavoring to get her running free in pursuit of the _PlymouthAdventure_. But slovenly, reckless seamanship had caught him unready.His sails were blowing to ribbons, ropes flying at loose ends, and itwas with great difficulty that the vessel could be made to mind hertiller.
Already the sea was rising in crested combers which broke with the noiseof thunder and the fury of the wind was insensate. Slowly the struggling_Revenge_ dropped astern, yawing wildly, rolling her bulwarks under,splintered spars dangling from the caps. She was a crippled ship whichwould be lucky to see port again. It was to be inferred that Blackbeardhad ceased to cut his mirthful capers on the poop and that he would havegiven bushels of doubloons to regain his sailing-master and men.
In the _Plymouth Adventure_ things were in far better plight, even withthe feeble, short-handed prize crew. Prudently snugged down in ampletime, with extra hands at the steering tackles, they let her drive. Shewould perhaps wear clear of the coast and there was hope of survivalunless the tempest should fairly wrench her strong timbers asunder.
Lashed to the weather rigging, Captain Jonathan Wellsby wiped the brinefrom his eyes and waved his arm at the helmsman, now to ease her alittle, again to haul up and thus thwart some ravening sea whichthreatened to stamp his ship under. Sailing-Master Ned Rackham wascontent to let the skipper con his own vessel in this great emergency.
The mind of Captain Wellsby was very active and he pondered on somethingelse than winning through the storm. He had been helpless while underthe guns of the _Revenge_, with the two sloops in easy call. Now thesituation was vastly different. He had been delivered out ofBlackbeard's clutches. And in the forecastle were thirty British seamenwith hearts of oak, raging to be loosed with weapons in their hands.Peering into the gray smother of sea and sky, Captain Jonathan Wellsbylicked his lips hungrily as he said to himself:
"Not now, but if the storm abates and we float through the night, theselousy picaroons shall dance to another tune."
Blackbeard: Buccaneer Page 3
