The Quest of the 'Golden Hope': A Seventeenth Century Story of Adventure
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CHAPTER XIII
Of the Mysterious Ship in the Midst of the Ocean
Next morning when I came on deck I saw the man we had rescued fromthe Algerine vessel. He was lying on a rough couch under the lee ofa cannonade, being too weak to stand. He had received a pistol shotin the left arm, so that his escape was all the more to be wonderedat, although he asserted that while swimming for his life he knewnothing of the matter.
He was a man of gigantic stature, broad in frame, and with musclesthat stood out beneath his tanned skin like knots on the trunk of aforest oak. All this I saw in spite of his distressed condition, andshould he recover, which seemed likely enough, he promised to make awelcome addition to our crew.
His name was Joe Clemens, and he hailed from East Looe, a smallfishing village in Cornwall somewhere betwixt Plymouth and Fowey, sothat when we picked him up he was almost within sight of his nativeplace. He had been the mate of the _Surprise_, armed trader, whichhad been cast ashore on the Barbary coast, all her crew beingcarried into captivity.
He was the only Englishman on board the Algerine galley; and hadlaboured at the oar for nearly three years, sleeping and working atthe rowers' bench, to which he was shackled by a chain passed roundhis middle.
Our broadside severed the chain, and seizing the opportunity hesprang overboard, followed by a fellow-slave, a Sardinian. As heleapt over an Algerine discharged a pistol at him, wounding him inthe arm; but such was his strength and determination that, althoughwearing part of the heavy chain and bleeding profusely, he managedto swim strongly till picked up. His companion had sunk, as I havealready related.
For the next few days nothing happened beyond the ordinary routineon board; but on the morning of the fifth day at sea I happened tonotice a man who must have previously kept out of my way. His facewas partially hidden by a short, stubbly beard, in spite of which Ifelt certain 'twas the same man that had vied with my father inbidding for Captain Jeremy's picture.
Concealing my agitation, I sought the Captain and communicated mysuspicions.
"Wrong again, lad," he replied. "'Tis Ned Slater, an old shipmate ofmine who has fallen on evil times. Out of charity I shipped himaboard the _Golden Hope_."
"The same old shipmate who bought a dagger in Lisbon?"
"Aye, Master Clifford----"
"But, sir, you described him as being as thin as a handspike."
"So I did, lad; but he has filled out since then. 'Twas a score ofyears ago at least. But rest easy in your mind concerning him, forhe has been to the Indies for the last four years, and only landedin Chatham a month ago, the sole survivor of the barque_Enterprise_. I know that, for I saw his papers."
With that there was no more to be said; yet, though I might bemistaken, I resolved to keep a close watch on the movements ofMaster Ned Slater.
Favourable winds bore the _Golden Hope_ to the Azores, where I hadmy first impression of foreign parts. Then, after a three days'stay, we shaped a course for the Bermudas; but, owing to constanthead winds, Captain Jeremy decided to run south, so as to pick upthe north-east Trades.
For several days we sailed over a vast expanse of ocean, with nevera sail to break the regular skyline. The days, too, were rapidlybecoming hotter, while the hours of daylight appreciably diminished,though the nights were warm and balmy, so that keeping a watch ondeck was robbed of all discomfort.
At length one morning the sun rose red and fiery, betokening achange in the weather; and barely was it clear of the horizon whenthe cry was heard, "Sail, ho!"
"Whither away?" asked Captain Jeremy, as he ascended the poop, glassin hand.
"A point off our starboard bow, sir," replied the seaman who hadpicked up this craft.
With the naked eye we could distinguish the topsails and t'gallantsof a brig, the hull being still below the horizon. Captain Jeremyclapped the glass to his eye and examined her intently.
"What's amiss with her?" he exclaimed. "She's hove-to."
"Perhaps she has sighted us, and wishes to communicate," suggestedTouchstone.
"Or else she's a buccaneer," added 'Enery, as he swung himself intothe main shrouds in order to get a better view from the topmasthead.
"We are out of the regular cruising ground of those gentlemen,"remarked Captain Jeremy. "But 'tis no saying what she may prove tobe. Master Touchstone, will you see that the arms are served out?"
Two hours later, for the wind was still light, we were within a mileof the strange brig. She was a vessel very similar to the _GoldenHope_ in design, but with what a difference in appearance!
She was still hove-to, moving very slowly through the water. Heryards were badly squared, while her running gear seemed to be in astate of neglect, several of the sheets and braces trailing over theside. She carried four guns abroadside, and these were run out inapparent preparation to ward off an attack; while her decks werecrowded with men.
"What do they think to do?" asked the master gunner. "'Tis certainthey have no stomach for a fight, or else they would keep way onher."
"If they do not pay heed to their t'gallants they are lost men,"said Captain Miles. "See, already the sky is overcast to windward.Yet it may be but a trick, so stand to your guns, men."
In obedience to a further order, the red cross of St. George wasshown from our foremast truck, for the course our vessel was takingprevented the ensign at the peak being seen by the stranger.
No ensign was hoisted in reply, and in perfect silence the othersawaited our approach.
"What ship is that?" hailed Captain Jeremy through his speakingtrumpet. There was still no answer, although the _Golden Hope_ waspassing within fifty yards of the stranger's bows. The hail wasrepeated, and to our surprise a lusty voice shouted:
"Can yew give we a hand wi' this boat ov ourn, zurr?"
"If that isn't a Zummerset or Devon yokel, sink me for alandlubber!" remarked Captain Jeremy; and almost at the same moment'Enery, who had descended to the main top, shouted, "Bless me,Cap'n, if it ain't Garge Oddicombe."
"Aye, aye, we'll send a boat," replied Captain Jeremy to the other'srequest; and in a very short space of time twenty men, with 'Eneryin charge, were making-towards the forlorn brig, I having obtainedpermission to accompany them.
"Look sharp!" shouted our Captain as the boat shoved off. "Make allsnug alow and aloft, and keep us in company."
A strange sight met our eyes as we gained the deck of the brig,which, by the name painted on her stern, we now knew to be the_Neptune_ of Topsham.
The confusion on deck was in accordance with the disorder aloft.Ropes, gun tackles, broken casks and planks, and torn canvas werelying about in the utmost disorder; while some hundred men,grotesquely dressed in motley costumes, gazed at us with mingledexpressions of relief, curiosity, and fear. Many still wore thesmocks of their native Somerset and Devon, but gone was the healthyhue of a country life. Haggard faces, unkempt hair, and beardsshowed that these sons of the soil had had a trying time onshipboard.
Without waiting to question this mixed crew, some of whom recognizedour men as comrades on the fatal field of Sedgemoor, 'Enery tooksteps to ensure the safety of the brig, for the wind was piping upin long-drawn moans, the forerunners of the expected gale; and bythe time everything was snugged down the sea was too high to permitthe boat to return to the _Golden Hope_ for further orders.
Under easy canvas both brigs scudded before the gale, and, thanks to'Enery's management, and the fact that the _Neptune_ was a seaworthycraft, we had no fears as to her ability to make good weather of it.
All night we kept the _Golden Hope's_ poop lanterns in view, bothvessels being of about the same turn of speed; nor was it possibleto return to our own craft until late in the afternoon of thefollowing day.
Nevertheless, long before that time we were acquainted with thefacts that led up to our meeting with the _Neptune_, and a ghastlystory it was.
The _Neptune_, commanded by Captain Jonas Wright, had left the portof Topsham on the tenth of September, with a living cargo consistingof one
hundred and twenty poor peasants whom the inhuman JudgeJeffreys had condemned at Exeter Assizes to a lifelong slavery inJamaica.
This Captain Jonas Wright was a harsh, tyrannical man, who, far fromalleviating the miseries of his prisoners, had added to their hardlot, keeping them on low rations of nauseating food, and onlyallowing them to come on deck for fresh air at very long intervals,while he took a savage delight in bestowing the dreaded "cat"whenever an opportunity occurred. Frequently, through sheer love ofcruelty, he would invent some pretext for whipping the manacledprisoners, shouting in drunken glee at their appeals for mercy.
At length George Oddicombe, a man of enormous strength, but withalsomewhat dull of understanding, who had fought stubbornly at Sedgemoor till ridden down by the Royals, contrived to free himself fromhis gyves and leg irons, and by working heroically for six hoursalso managed to release most of his luckless comrades, who in turndevoted their energies to knocking off the fetters of the remainingrebels.
That same night, the captain being in drink, as were most of theseamen, a horde of fierce and resolute peasants poured through thehatchway and overpowered the crew. What happened to their erstwhilecaptors we did not ask, there being little need to imagine theirfate.
Although freed from their oppressors, the ignorant yokels foundthemselves helpless, for the brig soon got in irons[1]. Unable tomanoeuvre her, they had slowly drifted in a vessel which, but forour aid, would ere now be lying on the bed of the Atlantic.
Directly the wind moderated sufficiently, 'Enery and I returned tothe _Golden Hope_, leaving seven of our men still on board the_Neptune_.
Captain Jeremy listened intently to the bos'n's report, his browfrequently puckering as if with the perplexity of the situation; butwhen at length 'Enery finished his story, the Captain brought hishand down on the cabin table with a tremendous crash.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I'll risk it. Bring Oddicombe on board."
[1] A vessel is said to be "in irons" when she is head to wind, andwill not tall off on either tack.