CHAPTER VI
THE VOYAGE OF THE LITTLE RAFT
THESE sturdy youngsters were not easily frightened, and Jack Cockrell,the landsman, was confident that wind and tide would change to send thelittle raft shoreward. So tranquil was the sea that they rode secure anddry upon the cabin hatch which was buoyed by the two short spars. JoeHawkridge was silent with foreboding of a fate more bitter than theperils which they had escaped. He had seen a lone survivor of a crew ofpirates picked off a raft in the Caribbean, a grisly phantom raving madwho had gnawed the flesh of his dead comrades.
They drifted quietly before the land breeze, beneath a sky all jeweledwith bright stars. The fire on the beach dimmed to a red spark and thenvanished from their wistful ken. They could no longer see the light onthe wreck of the _Plymouth Adventure_. Now and then the boys struggledwith the heavy oars and rowed until exhausted but they knew they couldbe making no headway against the current which had gripped the derelictraft. They ate sparingly of flinty biscuit and leathery beef pickled inbrine and stinted themselves to a few swallows of water from the woodenbreaker or tiny cask.
"Hunger and thirst are strange to ye, Jack," said young Hawkridge asthey lay stretched side by side. "Hanged if I ever did get enough to eattill I boarded the _Plymouth Adventure_. Skin and bone I am. I'll notcall this a bad cruise unless we have to chew our boot-tops. A peskydiet is leather. I've tried it."
"Truly, Joe?" cried Jack in lugubrious accents. "We may have more heartwhen morning comes. A piping easterly breeze, such as is wont to come upwith the sun in Charles Town, and we can steer for the coast all tautand cheery."
"I dread the sun, Jack. For men adrift the blaze of it fries them likefish on a grid. A pint of water a day, no more, is the allowance. 'Twilltorture you, but castaways can live on it. They have done it for weekson end. Here's two musket balls in my pocket. I can whittle a balancefrom a bit of pine and we must weigh the bread and meat."
"Two musket balls' weight of food for a meal?" protested Jack.
"Not a morsel more," was the grim answer. "Granted we be not washed offthis silly raft and drowned when a fresh breeze kicks up the sea, we mayhold body and soul together through five or six days."
"But some vessel will sight us, Joe, even if the plight is as dark asyour melancholy fancies paint it. And I thought you a light-heartedmariner in danger."
"The sea is a cruel master and she hath taught me prudence," was thereply. "A vessel sight us? I fear an empty sea so soon after the storm.And honest ships will be loth to venture out from port if the word spedthat Blackbeard was cruising off Charles Town bar."
Jack Cockrell forsook the attempt to wring comfort out of his hardycompanion who refused to delude himself with vain imaginings. However,it is the blessed gift of youth to keep the torch of hope unquenched andpresently they diverted themselves with chatting of their earlieradventures. Jack was minded of his pompous, stout-hearted uncle, Mr.Peter Arbuthnot Forbes, and wondered how he had fared, whether he hadset out to return to Blackbeard's ship with the store of medicines fromCharles Town when the great storm swooped down. Forgotten were Jack'shot grievances against the worthy Secretary of the Council who hadsought to take a father's place. Piracy had lost its charm for youngMaster Cockrell and meekly would he have obeyed the mandate to go toschool in merry England among sober, Christian folk.
"Tremendous odd, I call it," exclaimed Joe Hawkridge. "Here I was apirate and hating the dirty business. And my dreams were all of learnin'to be a gentleman ashore, to know how to read books and such. Blow me,Jack, we should ha' swapped berths."
"If my good uncle is alive I mean to commend you to his kindness,"exclaimed Jack. "We must cleave together, and you shall have a skinfulof books and school and manners."
This pleased the young sea rover beyond measure and he diverted himselfwith pictures of a cleaner, kindlier world than he had ever known. Inthe small hours of the night, the twain drowsed upon their frailplatform which floated as a speck on the shrouded ocean. The wavessplashed over the spars as the breeze grew livelier and the piteousvoyagers were sopping wet but the water was not chill and they sleptthrough this discomfort.
Jack Cockrell dreamed of walking in a green lane of Charles Town withlovely Dorothy Stuart. A wave slapped his face and he awoke with asputtering cry of bewilderment. The eastern sky was rosy and the seashimmered in the eternal beauty of a new day. Joe Hawkridge sat huddledagainst the mast, chin and knees together, his sharp eyes scanning thehorizon. With a grin he exclaimed:
"The watch ahoy! Rouse out, shipmate, and show a leg! Turn to cheerly!Holystone decks and wash down, ye lazy lubber."
Jack groaned and scowled as he rolled over to ease his aching bones. Hewas in no mood for jesting. There was no land in sight nor the gleam ofa sail, naught but the empty waste of the Atlantic, and the wind stillheld westerly.
"Let's have the beggarly morsel you miscall breakfast, Joe, and a swigfrom the breaker. Are we bound across the main?"
"Straight for London River, and the school you prate about, my bucko,"replied the scamp of a pirate. "Haul away on your belt and set thebuckle tighter. 'Twill ease the cursed hunger pain that gnaws like arat."
They munched the pittance of salty food which made the thirst the harderto endure, and then watched the sun climb hot and dazzling. It wasfutile to hoist the sail and so they pulled the canvas over them as theheat became more intense. By noon, Jack was begging for water to lavehis tongue but Joe Hawkridge laughed him to scorn and swore to hit himwith an oar unless he changed his tune. Never in his life had Jack knownthe lack of food or drink and he therefore suffered cruelly.
Worse than this privation was the increasing roughness of the sea. Itwas a blithesome wind, rollicking across a sparkling carpet of blue,with the little white clouds in flocks above, like lambs at play. Butthe raft was more and more tossed about and the waves gushed over itlike foam on a reef. Through the day the castaways might cling to it butthey dreaded another night in which their weary bodies could notpossibly ward off sleep. Even though they tied themselves fast, what ifthe raft should be capsized by the heave of the mounting swell? It wasthe merest makeshift, scrambled together in haste as a ferry from thewreck of the _Plymouth Adventure_.
No longer did Jack Cockrell bemoan his situation. Taking pattern fromhis comrade in misery, he set his teeth to await the end as became atrue man of gentle blood. After all, drowning was easier than the slowtorments of hunger and thirst.
Every little while one of them crawled from under the canvas to look fora ship. It was the vigilant Joe Hawkridge who, at length, discoveredwhat was very like a fleck of cloud on the ocean's rim, to thesouthward. Afraid that his vision tricked him, he displayed no emotionbut held himself as steady as any stoic. Jack was wildly excited,blubbering and waving his arms about. His hard-won composure was brokento bits. But even though it were a ship, Joe well knew it might passafar off and so miss sighting this bit of raft which drifted almostsubmerged.
Slowly the semblance of a wandering fragment of cloud climbed the curveof the watery globe until Joe Hawkridge perceived, with a mariner's eye,that it was, indeed, a vessel steering in their direction.
"Two masts!" said he, "and to'gallant-sails set to profit by this bravebreeze. A brig, Jack! Had she been a ship, my heart 'ud ha' been in mythroat. Blackbeard's _Revenge_ might be working up the coast, did shelive through the storm."
"A brig?" joyfully cried Jack. "Ah, ha, I see her two masts plainly,with mine own eyes. And they soar too tall for a merchant trader. Hersails, too,--she spreads them like great wings. Who else will it be thanCaptain Stede Bonnet in the _Royal James?_"
"A shift of luck is due us, by the bones of Saint Iago," shouted Joe, ina thrill of glad anticipation. "Watch her closely. You saw the brig inCharles Town harbor. Bless God, this may well be Cap'n Stede Bonnetyonder, an' perchance he cruises in search of Blackbeard to squareaccounts with that vile traitor that so misused him."
"A sworn friend of mine is Stede Bonnet," proudly declared JackCockrell, "and
pledged to bear a hand when I am in distress. He willland us safe in Charles Town, Joe,--unless,--unless we choose to goa-piratin' with him in the _Royal James_----"
Jack's voice trailed off in tones of indecision so comical that hiscomrade cried:
"Not cured yet, you big numbskull? 'Cause this fine Cap'n Bonnet is agentleman pirate? His neck will stretch with the rest of 'em when thelaw overtakes him. Thirteen burly lads I saw swinging in a row atWapping on the Thames."
"I'll not argue it," sheepishly mumbled Jack. "However, we'll find asafe deliverance aboard this _Royal James_."
They clung to the swaying raft while the water washed over their kneesand watched the two masts disclose themselves until they fancied theycould not be mistaken. No other brig as powerful as this had beenreported cruising in the waters of Virginia and the Carolinas. By astroke of fortune almost incredible they had been saved at the verybrink of death. The brig was steering straight toward them, hauled totake the wind abeam, and she would be up before sunset.
Shading his eyes with his hand, Joe Hawkridge suddenly uttered a curseso fierce and wicked that it was enough to freeze the blood. He clutchedJack's shoulder for support as though shorn of all his strength andhoarsely gasped:
"Not two masts but three! See it? She lifts high enough to show thestump of the foremast with head-sails jury rigged. 'Twas the storm madea brig of her!"
"Then she may be Blackbeard's ship?" faltered Jack, in a whisper.
"Remember when the gale first broke and we parted company?" was thereply. "The _Revenge_ lost her fore-topmast ere the swine could findtheir wits."
"Aye, Joe, but this may be some other vessel."
"She looks most damnably familiar," was the reluctant admission. "Agreat press of sail,--it fooled me into thinking her Stede Bonnet'sbrig."
Gloomily they waited until the black line of the hull was visiblewhenever the raft lifted on the back of a wave. This was enough for Joe.He recognized the graceful shear of the flush deck which had beenextended fore and aft to make room for a heavier main battery. Even ata distance, a sailor's eye could read other signs that marked this shipas the _Revenge_.
"The devil looks after his own," angrily exclaimed Joe. "I'd ha' wageredmy last ducat that she was whirled away to founder. Blackbeard boasts ofhis compact with Satan. I believe it's true."
"Shall we pull down our mast and pray that he passes the raft as a pieceof wreckage?" implored Jack.
Mustering his wits to meet this new crisis, Joe Hawkridge criedimpatiently:
"No, no, boy! This way death is sure, and most discomfortin'. If itsuits Blackbeard's whim to pick us up, there is a chance,--a chance, Isay, but make one slip and he will run us through with his own hand."
"We must arrange our tale of the wreck, Joe, to match without flaw.Quick! What have we to say?"
"A task for a scholar, this," grinned the sea urchin. "If it's not welllearned, we'll taste worse'n a flogging. Where be his prize crew ofpirates, asketh Blackbeard. Answer me that, Jack."
"The _Plymouth Adventure_ was driven upon a shoal and lost," gliblyaffirmed the other lad who had rallied to play at this hazardous game."Her boats were stove up. We left the pirates building a raft forthemselves and trusted ourselves to this poor contrivance, hoping togain the coast."
"Good, as far as it goes," observed the critical Joe.
"And it veers close to the truth. About the ship's company? What sayyou?"
"There I hang in the wind," confessed Jack. "Blackbeard would have flung'em overboard, I trow. Have a shot at it yourself."
"Well, leave me to answer that when the time comes. That we may agree,suppose we say Ned Rackham needed the sailors to work the ship and sospared 'em. Hanged if we can make it all true as Gospel."
"But if Blackbeard searches for the wreck, or if some of those piratesrejoin him, Joe----"
"But me no more buts," snapped the sea rover. "We be jammed in aclove-hitch, as the seaman's lingo hath it. Take trouble as it comesand, ware ye, don't weaken."
They stared at the oncoming ship, dreading to be rescued and even morefearful of being passed by. Disfigured though she was by a shatteredforemast, the _Revenge_ made a gallant picture as she leaned to show thecopper sheathing which flashed like gold. Her bow flung the crested seasaside and Joe Hawkridge muttered admiringly:
"A swift vessel! She carries a bone in her teeth. A telescope can sightus soon. Steady the raft, Jack, whilst I wriggle up this mast of oursand wave my shirt."
"A hard choice," sighed Jack. "Now we well know what it means to bebetwixt the devil and the deep sea."
They saw the _Revenge_ shift her course a couple of points as the sheetswere eased off. A little way to windward of the raft, she hove to whilea small boat was hoisted out. Curiosity prompted Blackbeard to find outwho these castaways were and from what ship they had drifted. Itoccurred to Joe Hawkridge that he might be in quest of tidings of thetwo sloops of his squadron which no longer kept him company. JackCockrell's teeth chattered but not with cold as the boat bobbed awayfrom the side of the _Revenge_. Presently Joe recognized the pirate atthe steering oar as a petty officer who had often befriended him.
This fellow's swarthy, pockmarked face crinkled in a smile as heflourished his broad hat and yelled:
"Stab my gizzard, but here's the London 'prentice-boy a-cruisin' on hisown adventure."
"Right-o, Jesse Strawn," Joe called back. "My bark is short-handed. Ineed lively recruits. Will ye enlist?"
The boat's crew laughed at this as they reached out to lay hold of theraft while the two lads leaped aboard. Joe Hawkridge carried it off withrough bravado as though glad to be among his pals again. They eyed JackCockrell with quizzical interest and he did his best to be at ease,permitting Joe to vouch for him as a young gentleman with a taste forpiracy who had won Blackbeard's favor in the _Plymouth Adventure_. Theywere plied with eager questions regarding the fate of the merchant shipand Ned Rackham's prize crew. It was a chance to rehearse the tale asthey had concocted it, and it seemed to hang together well enough tosatisfy these simple rogues.
In his turn, Joe Hawkridge demanded to know the gossip of the _Revenge_.The storm had sobered Blackbeard, it seemed, and he had displayed theskill of a masterly seaman in bringing them safely through. In toilingfor their own lives, the men had forgotten their brawls and plots andguzzling. And the great wind had blown the ship clear of Spanish fever.There were no new cases and the invalids were gaining strength. Freshfood and sweet water were needed and the opinion was that Blackbeard nowsteered for an old rendezvous of his on the North Carolina coast wherehis sloops would meet him if they were still afloat.
Jack Cockrell found his courage returning as he clambered up the side ofthe _Revenge_ and followed Joe aft to the quarter-deck. Unless theybungled it, there was a chance that they might escape when the piratesmade their landing on the coast to refresh themselves and refit theship. The mate on watch greeted them good-humoredly enough and bade thementer the cabin where the captain awaited them. Jack was all a-flutteragain but he managed to imitate Joe's careless swagger.
Blackbeard lounged at his ease in a huge chair of carven ebony whichmight have been filched from some stately East Indiaman or a ship of theGrand Mogul himself. He had flung off his coat and the sleeves of ashirt of damask silk were rolled to the elbow. Instead of the great,mildewed sea-boots he wore slippers of crimson leather embroidered withthreads of gold. Gorgeous cushions, pieces of plate, costly apparelstrewed the cabin in barbaric confusion.
What the two lads gazed at, however, was this bizarre figure of a despotwho held the power of life and death. It was one of his quieterinterludes when he laid aside the ferocious and bombastic play-actingwhich made it hard to discover whether he was very cunning or half-mad.The immense beard flowed down his chest instead of being tricked out ingaudy ribbons. He was idly running a comb through it when his small,rum-reddened eyes took in the two lads in dripping clothes who wereshoved toward him by the sentry guarding the hatch.
Blackbeard let a hai
ry hand stray to clutch one of the pistols kept onthe table beside him. Jack Cockrell gulped and stole a frightened glanceat Joe Hawkridge who winked and nudged him. There was some small comfortin this. Spellbound, they stared at the pistol and then at the pirate'smassive forearm on which a skull and cross-bones was pricked in Indiaink. At this moment Jack earnestly wished himself back on the raft. Thebarrel of the pistol looked as big as a blunderbuss.
With a yawn, Blackbeard reached for a silver bowl of Brazil nuts,cracked one of them with the pistol-butt and roared for the black cabinboy who came running with a flask of Canary wine and a goblet. JackCockrell's sigh of relief sounded like a porpoise coming up for air. Hewas not to be shot at once. Suddenly Blackbeard exclaimed, in thathusky, growling voice of his:
"I saw you rascals through the glass before I came below. What of theship I left ye in? Briefly now, and no lies."
Together the lads pieced out the narrative as they had hastily preparedit. The vital thing was to watch lest they tell a word too much. Jackstumbled once or twice but his comrade covered it adroitly, and they didnot betray themselves. The sweat trickled into their eyes but the heatof the cabin was excuse for this. Blackbeard studied them intently,munching Brazil nuts and noisily sipping his wine.
"The _Plymouth Adventure_ stranded yester-eve?" said he. "Know ye thelay of the coast where the wreck lies? What of the shipmaster and NedRackham? Were they able to fix the shoal by reckoning?"
"No, sir," readily answered Joe Hawkridge. "'Twas strange land to allhands."
From a chest Blackbeard hauled out a dog-eared chart of parchment andunrolled it upon the table. The boys foresaw his intention and fearedthe worst. Presently they heard him mumble to himself:
"A small wind setting from the west'ard,--twenty-four hours of driftfor the lads' raft,--a dozen leagues, I call it."
He looked up from the chart to ask:
"The wreck was lodged fast in smooth water and holding together?"
"Aye, but in peril of working off and sinking like an iron pot,"answered Joe. "For this reason the people were in haste to quit her."
"Her own crew made for the beach, I have no doubt," shrewdly pursuedBlackbeard, "but my men 'ud stay by the wreck and watch the weather erethey shoved off. Trust the food and drink and plunder to hold 'em."
He lumbered to the hatch and called up to the mate on watch. While theyconferred, Joe Hawkridge whispered to his perturbed companion:
"He will hunt for the wreck, Jack. But unless the wind changes, he can'tbeat in to the coast with his fore-topmast gone."
"A merciful delay," muttered Jack. "I worry not so much for CaptainWellsby and his people. They will hide themselves well inland when theymake out the _Revenge_, but what of you and me?"
"'Tis a vexing life we lead. I will say that much, Master Cockrell."
Blackbeard: Buccaneer Page 6
