CHAPTER X
THE SEA URCHIN AND THE CARPENTER'S MATE
FOR the sake of a treasure sordid and blood-stained, it would seemshabby to overlook the fate of hapless Joe Hawkridge marooned along withthe hands of the _Revenge_ who were suspected of plotting mutiny. Hisbehavior was courageous and unselfish, for he could have fled back intothe swamp when Blackbeard's wily attack threw the camp into tumult. Froma sense of duty he flung himself into the fray. What friends he had inthe ship were those of the decenter sort who were tired of wantonbrutalities and of a master who was no better than a lunatic.
When the sloop opened fire with her guns, it was time to surrender.Unhurt save for a few scratches and a gorgeous black eye, Joe wasdragged to the beach and thrown into a boat. Promptly the armed pinnacetook them in tow, as arranged beforehand. Several of the prisoners hadvisited this rendezvous at Cherokee Inlet during a previous cruise andhad some knowledge of the lay of the coast. Five or six miles out werecertain shoals of sand scarcely lifted above high tide, so desolate thatnothing whatever grew upon them nor was there any means of obtainingfresh water.
"A pretty fancy,--to cast us where he can enjoy the sight of it when theship sails out," said one of them who held a wounded comrade in hisarms.
"Some trading vessel may sight us in the nick o' time," hopefullysuggested Joe. "Never say die!"
"Trust most honest skippers to give the Inlet a wide berth," was thelugubrious reply. "This harbor was used by pirates afore Blackbeard'stime. I was a silly 'prentice-boy, same as you, Joe, wi' Cap'n WillumKidd when we lay in here to caulk his galley for the long voyage toMadagascar."
"A poor figger of a pirate was that same Kidd," spoke up another. "Hene'er scuttled a ship nor fought an action. An' his treasure was all inmy eye. What did he swing for, at Execution Dock? For crackin' the skullof his gunner with a wooden bucket."
"They can't h'ist this Cap'n Teach to the same gibbet any too soon toplease me, Sam," croaked a horse-faced rogue with two fingers choppedoff. "He's gone and murdered all us men, as sure as blazes."
Joe Hawkridge held his peace and wondered what had become of hispartner, Jack Cockrell, waiting alone in the pirogue. In the infernalcommotion at the camp, Joe had failed to note whether Bill Saxby andTrimble Rogers had betaken themselves off or had been among thosekilled. There was the faint hope that these trusty messengers might findtheir way back to Captain Stede Bonnet's ship and so hasten his coming.
The boats crept over the burnished surface of the harbor and passed thenearest islands which were green and wooded. Beyond them shone thegently heaving sea, with the distant gleam of a patch of sandy shoalringed about with a necklace of surf. It was remote enough from anyother land to daunt the strongest swimmer. The boats kept on until theyhad rounded to leeward of this ghastly prison. There was no means ofresistance. The captives were driven ashore by force of arms, carrying afew of their wounded with them.
With emotions beyond the power of speech, they stared at the pinnace asthe oars splashed on the return journey to the _Revenge_. Joe Hawkridgewept a little, perplexed that men could be so cruel to their ownshipmates. And yet what could be expected of pirates debased enough tobe Blackbeard's loyal followers? Recovering from their first stupor, thetwenty able-bodied survivors began to ransack the strip of naked sand onwhich they had been marooned. It was no more than an acre in extent. Afew small fish were found in a pool left by the falling tide and perhapsa hundred turtle eggs were uncovered during the afternoon. This merelypostponed starvation.
There was not much bickering. In the shadow of certain death, theseoutlaws of the sea seemed to have acquired a spirit of resignation whichwas akin to dignity. They had lost the game. In their own lingo, it wasthe black spot for all hands of 'em. With the coolness of night theyrevived to bathe in the surf which made their thirst less hard to bear.There was not much sleep. Men walked in restless circles, looking up atthe stars, muttering to themselves, or scanning the sea which had knowntheir crimes and follies.
THEY CAPERED AND HUGGED EACH OTHER]
Joe Hawkridge scooped out a bed for himself in the sand and dropped offto sleep by spells, with dreams of ease and quiet ashore and learning tobe a gentleman. It was daylight when shouts startled him. The otherderelicts were in a frenzy of agitation. They capered and hugged eachother, and made unearthly sounds. Joe brushed the sand from his eyes andsaw a small vessel approaching the tiny island. Her rig was made out tobe that of a snow, which was very like a brig, the difference being inthe larger main-topsail and the absence of a spanker or aftersteering-sail.
Such trading craft as this snow came coasting down from Salem and otherNew England ports to Virginia and the Carolinas laden with molasses,rum, salt, cider, mackerel, woodenware, Muscavado sugar, and driedcodfish. They bartered for return cargoes and carried no specie,wherefore pirates like Stede Bonnet seldom molested them excepting totake such stores as might be needed and sometimes actually to pay forthem. They were the prey of miscreants of Blackbeard's stripe whodestroyed and slew for the pleasure of it.
This trim little snow was making to the southward in fancied security,having picked up a landfall, as the marooned pirates conjectured. Nodoubt her master had failed to receive warning that Blackbeard was inthese waters and he was running his risk of encountering othermarauders. He must have seen that there were people in distress on thetide-washed strip of sand. The snow shifted her helm and fired a gun.The marooned wretches could scarce credit their amazing good fortune buta grave, slow-spoken fellow who had been a carpenter's mate in the_Revenge_ thought the rejoicing premature.
"When that God-fearin' skipper takes a look at us, he will sheer off andclap on sail, lads. For shipwrecked sailors you are a pizen lot o' mugs.The only blighted one of ye what's the leastwise respectable is me."
Here was a terrible misgiving which clouded the bright anticipations.They were, indeed, an unlovely cargo for the little trading vessel totake on board. One of them whipped out a pair of scissors and hastilysawed at his unkempt whiskers while his comrades stood in line andwaited their turn. Others discarded gaudy kerchiefs and pistol-belts, orkicked off Spanish jack-boots. Scraps of gold lace were also unpopular.But they could not get rid of scarred faces and rum-reddened noses andthe other hall-marks of their trade.
To their immense relief, the snow displayed no signs of alarm but sailedas close as the shoaling water permitted and dipped her colors. Thepirates flattered themselves that they were not as frightful as thecarpenter's mate had painted them. And this New England shipmaster wasa merciful man who would not leave his fellow mortals to perish. Theysaw a boat lowered from the snow and into it jumped half a dozensailors, soberly clad in dungaree, with round straw hats on their heads.With a gush of gratitude, the pirates swore to deal courteously by thesenoble merchant mariners and to repay them in whatever manner possible.
Out into the murmuring surf rushed the mild-mannered rascals, eager tograsp the boat and haul it up. It was Joe Hawkridge, hovering in thebackground, who raised the first cry of astonishment. His voice was soaffrighted that it quavered. Before the boat was half-way from thevessel, he perceived that these were no sedate seamen from theMassachusetts Colony, even though they were in dungaree and round strawhats. He was gazing at some of Ned Rackham's evil pirates whom he hadlast beheld on the shattered deck of the _Plymouth Adventure_ where theyhad been left to build a raft for themselves!
The devil had looked after his own. They had floated away from thestranded ship and instead of landing on the beach had been rescued bythis unfortunate snow whose crew had been disposed of in some violentmanner. This much Joe Hawkridge comprehended, although his mind wasawhirl. He was better off marooned. He had helped to turn the guns ofthe _Plymouth Adventure_ against these very same men when they had beenblown out of the after cabin and the ship retaken by Captain JonathanWellsby.
Whatever other plans they had in store, the first business would be tokill Joe Hawkridge. This was painfully obvious. He retreated stillfarther behind his companions and had a
confused idea of digging intothe sand and burying himself from view. The discovery that these wereBlackbeard's pirates in the boat created general confusion but there wasno fear of instant death. It was a situation excessively awkward for themarooned company but nevertheless open to parley and argument.
By hurried agreement, the carpenter's mate, Peter Tobey by name, waschosen as spokesman. Before he began to talk with the men in the boat,Joe Hawkridge called to him in piteous accents and begged him to stepback in rear of the crowd for a moment. Tobey shouted to the boat towait outside the surf and not attempt a landing.
"What's the row, Joe?" he asked, with a kindly smile. "'Tis adisappointment for all of us,--this tangle with Rackham's crew,--but whyany worse for you?"
"I can't tell it all, Peter, but my life is forfeit once they lay handson me."
"What tarradiddle is this? As I remember it in the _Revenge_, when allhands of us were cruisin' together, ye had no mortal enemies."
"It happened in the _Plymouth Adventure_," answered Joe. "There be menin yon boat that 'ud delight in flayin' me alive. I swear it, Peter, bymy mother's name. Give me up, and my blood is on your head."
The boy's words carried conviction. The stolid carpenter's mate ponderedand knitted his bushy brows.
"I never did a wilful murder yet," said he. "Mallet and chisel comereadier to my fist than a cutlass. Bide here, Joe. Let me get mybearings. This has the look of a ticklish matter for the lot of us. Ishall be keepin' a weather eye lifted for squalls."
In mortal fear of discovery by the men in the boat, Joe flattenedhimself behind a palmetto log which had drifted to the other side of theisland. Here he was hidden unless the boat should make a landing. Thecarpenter's mate waded out to join his companions who were amiablyconversing with Ned Rackham's pirates. They had all been shipmateseither in the _Revenge_ or the _Triumph_ sloop and there was boisterouscuriosity concerning the divers adventures while they had been apart.Rackham's crew had been reduced to eighteen men when they were luckyenough to capture the snow, it was learned. With this small company hedared not go pirating on his own account and so had decided to rejoinBlackbeard.
"Is Ned Rackham aboard the snow?" asked Peter Tobey of the boat'scoxswain.
"He is all o' that, matey, though the big bos'n of the _PlymouthAdventure_ shoved a knife in his ribs to the hilt. He is flat in a bunkbut he gives the orders an' it's jump at the word."
"A hard man to kill," said Peter Tobey. "Take me aboard. 'Tis best Ihave speech with him. Let the people wait here on the cay. They canstand another hour of it."
There was fierce protest among the marooned pirates but the carpenter'smate gruffly demanded to know if they wished to be carried into theharbor and turned over to Blackbeard. This gave the mob something tothink about and they permitted the boat to pull away from them withoutmuch objection.
"A rough joke on you lads, I call it, to be dumped on this bit o'purgatory," said the coxswain to Peter Tobey. "The great Cap'n Teachmust ha' been in one of his tantrums."
"It had been long brewing, as ye know," answered the carpenter's mate."These men with you in the snow 'ud sooner follow Ned Rackham,flint-hearted though he be, than to rejoin the _Revenge_."
"Not so loud," cautioned the coxswain. "We'll see which way the cat isgoing to jump. Us poor devils is sore uneasy at findin' how you weredealt with."
"What of the master and crew of the snow?" asked Tobey. "Were theysnuffed out? That 'ud be Rackham's way."
"No, we set 'em off in a boat, within sight of the coast. Ned Rackhamwas too shrewd to bloody his hands, bein' helpless in this tub of a snowwhich could neither fight nor show her heels if she was chased."
Few men as there were aboard the snow, they were smartly disciplined andkept things shipshape, as Peter Tobey noted when he climbed on deck. Afew minutes later he was summoned into the small cabin. Propped up inthe skipper's berth, Sailing-Master Ned Rackham had a pinched andghastly look. He was a young man, with clean-cut, handsome features, anda certain refinement of manner when he cared to assume it. The rumor wasthat he was the black sheep of an English house of some distinction andthat he had enlisted in the Royal Navy under a false name.
"What is this mare's-nest, my good Tobey?" said he as the carpenter'smate stood diffidently fumbling with his cap. "Marooned? Twenty men ofyou on a reef of sand? Were ye naughty boys whilst I was absent?"
"No more than them I could name who planned to go a-cruisin' in the_Plymouth Adventure_," doggedly replied Peter Tobey who resented thetone of sneering patronage.
"Fie, fie! You talk boldly for a man in your situation. Never mind! Whythe honor of this visit?"
"To make terms, Master Rackham. If us twenty men consent to serveyou----"
"You babble of terms?" was the biting interruption. "I can leave you toperish on the sand, as ye no doubt deserve, or I can carry you in withme, when I report to Captain Teach."
"But there's another choice, which hasn't escaped you," persisted theintrepid carpenter's mate. "Enlist us in your service and you'll havenigh on forty men. This snow mounts a few old swivels and you must ha'found muskets in her. With forty men, Master Rackham, there's nooccasion to bow to Blackbeard's whimsies. You can h'ist the Jolly Rogerfor yourself and lay 'longside a bigger ship to take and cruise in. I'veheard tell of a great buccaneer that started for himself in a pinnaceand captured a galleon as tall as a church."
Ned Rackham's eyes flashed. Indeed, this was what he had in mind. Thisscore of recruits would make the venture worth undertaking. Men wereessential. Given enough of them to handle the snow and a boarding partybesides, and he would not hesitate to shift helm and bear away to seaagain.
"You will sign articles, then?" he demanded.
"Aye, I can speak for all, Master Rackham. What else is there for us?Hold fast, I would except one man. He must be granted safe conduct, onyour sacred honor."
"His name, Tobey?"
"That matters not. Pledge me first. He has no more stomach for piracyand will be set ashore at some port."
"A pig in a poke?" cried Rackham, with an ugly smile. "If I refuse,what?"
"You will have sulky men that may turn against you some day."
"And I can leave you to rot where you are, with your nonsense of 'makingterms,'" was the harsh rejoinder.
"But you won't do that," argued Peter Tobey. "Your own fortune hangs onenlisting us twenty lads. You bear Blackbeard no more love than we do."
Ned Rackham was making no great headway with this stubborn carpenter'smate who was playing strong cards of his own.
"A drawn bout, Tobey," said he, with a change of front. "No more backingand filling. You ask a small favor. Fetch your man along, whoever he maybe. He shall be done no harm by me."
"Even though he made a mortal enemy of you, Master Rackham?"
"Enough, Peter. I have many enemies and scores to settle. You have myassurance but I demand the lad's name."
"Not without his permission," declared Tobey. "Set me ashore and I willconfer with him."
Grudgingly Rackham consented, unwilling to have a hitch in thenegotiations. In a somber humor, the carpenter's mate returned to hisimpatient comrades on the island. They crowded about him and he brieflydelivered the message, that they were desired to cruise under NedRackham's flag. This delighted them, as the only way out of a fataldilemma. Then Tobey went over to sit down upon the palmetto log behindwhich Joe Hawkridge still sprawled like a turtle. The anxious boy pokedup his head to say:
"What cheer, Peter? A plaguey muddle you found it, I'll bet."
"Worse'n that, Joe. Rackham wouldn't clinch it with his oath unless Itold him your name. I plead with him for safe conduct."
"I'd not trust his oath on a stack o' Bibles, once he set eyes on me,"exclaimed Joe. "As soon put my fist to my own death warrant as go aboardwith him."
"That may be," said Peter Tobey, "but you will have friends. You can'texpect us to refuse to sail on account o' you."
"Leave me here, then," cried the boy. "I'll not call it deserting me.
Take your men aboard the snow. Tell Ned Rackham you have the fellowamongst 'em who implored the safe conduct. Pick out some harmless ladthat was saucy to Rackham in the _Revenge_, a half-wit like thatRobinson younker that was the sailing-master's own cabin boy. He wasallus blubberin' that Rackham 'ud kill him some day."
"No half-wit about you," admiringly quoth the carpenter's mate. "But,harkee, Joe, you will die in slow misery. Better a quick bullet fromRackham's pistol."
"Find some way to send off a little food and water, Peter, and I willset tight on this desert island. And mayhap you will dance at the endof a rope afore I shuffle off."
"A hard request, Joe," replied the puzzled Tobey. "Unless I can come offagain with some of our own men, how can it be done? Let Rackham's crewsuspect I am leaving a man behind and they will rout you out."
"And they all love me, like a parson loves a pirate," grinned Joe. "Ishot 'em full of spikes and bolts from a nine-pounder in the _PlymouthAdventure_."
"I shall use my best endeavor, so help me," sighed Peter Tobey. "Whatfor did I ever quit carpenterin' to go a-piratin'? 'Tis the worst basketof chips that ever was."
"No sooner do I crawl out of one hole than I tumble into another," verytruthfully observed Joe Hawkridge. "Insomuch as I've allus crawled out,you and me'll shed no more tears, Peter. There's a kick in me yet."
The disconsolate carpenter's mate returned to his fellow pirates andbade them go off to the snow. First, however, he extracted from everyman the solemn promise that he would not divulge the secret of JoeHawkridge's presence nor reveal the fact that he had remained behind.They were eager to promise anything. Several of them stole over to tellhim furtive farewells. They displayed no great emotion. The trade theyfollowed was not apt to make them turn soft over such a tragic episodeas this.
When the snow was ready to take her departure, with almost fortyseasoned pirates to seek their fortunes anew, the wind died to a calmand the little vessel drifted within easy vision of the sandy islandthrough a long afternoon. Peter Tobey tormented himself to find somepretext for smuggling food and water ashore. He invented a tale of aprecious gold snuff-box which must have fallen out of his pocket andbegged permission to go and search for it. But Ned Rackham sent up wordthat he had no notion of being delayed by a fool's errand, should abreeze spring up. He was not at all anxious to linger so close toCherokee Inlet whence Blackbeard might sight the spars of the snow andperhaps weigh anchor in the _Revenge_.
Soon after dark the sails filled with a soft wind which drew the snowclear of the coast. Peter Tobey had been mightily busy with an emptycask. In it he stowed meat and biscuit and a bag of onions, stealthilyabstracted from the storeroom while his own companions stood guardagainst surprise. This stuff was packed around two jugs of water tightlystoppered. Then Peter headed up the cask with professional skill andwatched the opportunity to lower it from the vessel's bow where he wasunseen.
The wind and tide were favorable to carrying the cask in the directionof the little patch of sea-washed sand upon which was marooned thesolitary young mariner, Joe Hawkridge. The carpenter's mate saw the caskdrift past the side of the snow and roll in the silvery wake. Slowly itvanished in the darkness and he said to himself, in a prayer devoutlyearnest:
"That boy deserves a slant o' luck, and may the good God let him have itthis once. Send the cask to the beach, and I vow to go a-piratin' neveragain."
Blackbeard: Buccaneer Page 10
