Blackbeard: Buccaneer

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE EPISODE OF THE WINDING CREEK

  THE singular discovery of Bill Saxby's jacket was like a shock to driveall else out of their minds. Now they found that it had been thrown overa jug of water and a bag of beef and biscuit stowed in the bow. Thissolved one pressing problem, and they nibbled the hard ration whiledebating the situation. It was agreed that they could not honorably runaway with the pirogue if it really belonged to Stede Bonnet's men, whomust have come on foot along the higher ground back of the coast anddescended the creek in the canoe stolen or purchased from Indians met bychance.

  Granted this much, it was fair to conjecture that Captain Bonnet's shipwas in some harbor not many leagues distant and that he knew where tofind Blackbeard's rendezvous, at Cherokee Inlet.

  "'Tis your job to stand by the pirogue, Jack," suggested Hawkridge, "andI will make a sally toward the pirates' camp afore they rouse out."

  "Go softly, Joe, and don't be reckless. Why not lie up till night beforeyou reconnoitre?"

  "'Cause the mist still hangs heavy and I'm blowed if I dilly-dally ifgood Bill Saxby has come to grief."

  "Supposing he has, you cannot wrest him single-handed from Blackbeard'screw."

  "Well, if I can but slip a word of comfort in his ear, it'll cheer himmightily, unless his throat be cut by now," was the stubborn response."Sit thee taut, Jack, old _camarada_, and chuck the worry. Care killed acat. These rogues yonder in the camp won't _molest me_ if I walk boldlyamongst 'em."

  "What if you don't return?" persisted Jack. "How long shall I wait herewith the pirogue?"

  "Now what the deuce can I say to such foolish queries? If things gowrong with me and Bill and his mate, you will have to cruise alone orhop back to the _Revenge_."

  With a laugh and a wave of the hand, the dauntless adventurer leapedfrom the nose of the canoe, nimbly hauled himself into a tree, and thenplunged into the gloomy swamp where he was speedily lost to view. JackCockrell settled himself to wait for he knew not what. Clouds of midgesand mosquitoes tormented him and he ached with fatigue. Soon aftersunrise the mist began to burn away and the mouth of the creek was nolonger obscured by shadows. In the glare of day Jack thought it likelythat the canoe might be detected by some pair of keen eyes aboard the_Revenge_.

  To move it far might imperil Joe Hawkridge and Bonnet's two seamenshould they come in haste with a hue-and-cry behind them. Jack paddledthe pirogue up the creek and soon found a safe ambuscade, a stagnantcove in among the dense growth, where he tied up to a gnarled root. Thenhe climbed a wide-branching oak and propped himself in a crotch fromwhich he could see the open water and the two vessels at anchor. Clumpsof taller trees cut off any view of the beach and the camp but he daredstray no farther from the pirogue.

  Tediously an hour passed and there was no sign of Joe Hawkridge. He hada journey of only a few hundred yards to make, and Jack began to imagineall kinds of misfortune that might have befallen him, such as beingmired beyond his depth in the swamp and perishing miserably. Thesensible conclusion was, however, that he had tarried among hisshipmates in the camp with some shrewd purpose in mind.

  A little later in the morning, Jack's anxious cogitations were divertedby the frequent passage of boats between the _Revenge_ and the sloopwhich was anchored nearer the beach. One of these small craft wasBlackbeard's own cock-boat, or captain's gig, which he used for errandsin smooth water, with a couple of men to pull it. Jack was reminded ofthat secret conference in the cabin and Joe's conviction that someuncommon devilment was afoot. It appeared as though "Tallow Dick"Spender, that unwholesome master of the _Triumph_ sloop, had been chosenas the right bower.

  And now there arose a sudden and riotous noise in the camp. It was notthe mirth and song of jolly pirates a-pleasuring ashore but theferocious tumult of men in conflict and taken unawares. Perched in thetree, Jack Cockrell listened all agog as the sounds rose and fell withthe breeze which swayed the long gray moss that draped the branches. Heheard a few pistol shots and then was startled to see a spurt of flamedart from a gun-port of the sloop. The dull report reached him aninstant later. He could see that the gun had been fired from thevessel's shoreward battery. It meant that Blackbeard was making a targetof some part of the camp. Another gun belched its cloud of smoke.

  The noise died down, save for intermittent shouts and one long wail ofanguish. Presently a boat moved out past the sloop. A dozen men tuggedat the oars and others stood crowded in the stern-sheets. Jack caughtthe gleam of weapons and thought he recognized the squat, broad figureof Blackbeard himself beside the man at the steering oar. Behind thispinnace from the _Revenge_ trailed two other boats in tow. They passedin slow procession, out between the vessels. The boats which the pinnacetowed were not empty. Instead of sitting upon the thwarts, men seemed tobe strewn about in them as if they had been tossed over the gunwaleslike so much dunnage.

  Jack rubbed his eyes in amazement and watched the line of boats turn tofollow the channel which led out of the sheltered roadstead to the seabeyond. When they vanished beyond a sandy island, the lad in thelive-oak tree said to himself:

  "My guess is that Blackbeard has put a stopper on all talk of mutiny byone bold stroke. A bloody weeding-out, and in those two boats are thepoor wretches who were taken alive. Alas, one of 'em may be JoeHawkridge unless he be dead already. He talked too much of Stede Bonnetaboard the ship. And there were sneaking dogs in the crew who spied ontheir comrades. We saw them enter the cabin last night."

  There was no getting around the evidence. It fitted together all toowell. Jack sadly reflected that, beyond a doubt, he had seen the last ofgallant, loyal Joe Hawkridge. Left alone with the pirogue, which hecould not paddle single-handed, it was folly to think of trying toescape along the coast. And to wander inland, ignorant of the country,was to court almost certain death. Nor could he now expect mercy fromBlackbeard, having deserted the ship against orders and known to be atrue friend of Captain Stede Bonnet.

  The most unhappy lad could no longer hold his cramped station in thetree and he decided to seek the canoe and find the meagre solace of alittle food and water. He was half-way to the ground when he clutched alimb and halted to peer into the swamp. Something was splashing throughthe mud and grass and making a prodigious fuss about it. Then Jack heardtwo voices in grunts and maledictions. Fearing the enemy might havetracked him, he stood as still as a mouse in the leafage of the oak.

  Out of the swamp emerged a young man with a musket on his shoulder.Behind him came one very much older, gaunt and wrinkled, his hair asgray as the Spanish moss that overhung his path. They reached the edgeof the creek and then turned down to halt where the pirogue had beenleft. At failing to find it there, they argued hotly and were muchdistressed. Jack Cockrell's fears were calmed. These were no men ofBlackbeard's company, but good Bill Saxby and his mate. He called tothem from his perch and they stood wondering at this voice from heaven.

  In a jiffy Jack had slid down and was beckoning them. They hurried asfast as they could pull their feet out of the muck, and were overjoyedto jump into the hidden canoe. There they sat and thumped Jack Cockrellon the head by way of affectionate greeting. The younger man had achubby cheek, a dimple in his chin, and blue eyes as big and round as ababe's.

  "Bill Saxby is me," said his pleasant voice, "and a precious job had Ito get here. Joe Hawkridge told me of you, Master Cockrell."

  "Where is Joe?" cried Jack, dreading to hear his own opinion confirmed.

  "Marooned, along with two dozen luckless lads that were trapped likepigeons----"

  "'Twas more like turtles all a-sleepin' in the sand," the old mancroaked in rusty accents. "A few was sharp awake and they fought prettywhilst the rest rallied, but they got drove with their backs to theswamp and a deep slough. Then the sloop turned her guns on 'em and theystruck their colors."

  "And Joe Hawkridge sided with his friends, of course," said Jack.

  "Would ye expect aught else of him?" proudly answered Bill Saxby. "Hesearched us out where we lay trussed like fo
wls, all bound with ropes.We blundered fair into the camp last night, and old Trimble Rogers here,his legs knotted with cramps, couldn't make a run for it. They saved usfor Blackbeard's pleasure but he had other fish to fry."

  "What then?" demanded Jack.

  "'Twas Joe Hawkridge that ran to cut our bonds when the fight began. Andhe bade us leg it for the pirogue and carry word to you. A pledge ofhonor, he called it, to stand by his dear friend Jack, and he made usswear it."

  "Bless him for a Christian knight of a pirate," said Jack, with tears inhis eyes. "Was he hurt, did ye happen to note?"

  "We hid ourselves till the prisoners were flung into the boats. I markedJoe as one of 'em, and he was sprightly, barring a bloody face."

  "Marooned, Bill Saxby?" asked Jack. "What's your judgment on thatscore? It cannot be many leagues from here, or the ship would havetransported them instead of the boats."

  "These barren islands lie strung well out from the coast, MasterCockrell. Waterless they be, and without shelter. Blackbeard's fancy isto let the men die there----"

  "An ancient custom of buccaneers and pirates," put in old TrimbleRogers, with an air of grave authority. "I mind me in the year of 1687when I sailed in the South Sea with that great captain, EdwardDavis,--'twas after the sack of Guayaquil when every man had a greaterweight of gold and silver than he could lug on his back----"

  Bill Saxby interrupted, in a petulant manner:

  "Stow it, grandsire! At a better time ye can please the lad with yourlong-winded yarns,--of marching on Panama with Henry Morgan when themother's milk was scarce dry on your lips."

  "I cruised with the best of 'em," boasted the last of the storied raceof true buccaneers of the Spanish Main, "and now I be in this cheaptrade of piratin'. The fortunes I gamed away, and the plate ships Iboarded! Take warnin', boy, and salt your treasure down."

  "This Trimble Rogers will talk you deaf," said Bill Saxby, "but there'spith in his old bones and wisdom under yon hoary thatch. Cap'n Bonnetsent him along with me as a rare old hound to trail the swamps."

  In a vivid flash of remembrance, Jack Cockrell saw this salty relic ofthe Spanish Main among the crew which had disported itself on the taverngreen at Charles Town,--the old man sitting aside with a couple of straychildren upon his knees while his head nodded to the lilt of the fiddle.And again there had been a glimpse of him trudging in the column whichhad followed Stede Bonnet, with trumpet and drum, to attack the hostileIndians. Jack's heart warmed to Trimble Rogers and also to young BillSaxby. They would find some way out of all this tribulation.

  "Whither lies Captain Bonnet's stout ship?" eagerly demanded Jack.

  "On this side the Western Ocean," smiled Saxby. "We shall waste no timein finding her. We had better bide where we are a few hours, eh,Trimble?"

  "Aye, and double back up the stream in the canoe to spend the night ondry land and push on afoot at dawn. If we wait to sight Blackbeard'sboats come in from sea, 'twill aid us to reckon how far out they wentand what the bearings are."

  "So Captain Bonnet may sail to pick off those poor seamen marooned,"exclaimed Jack.

  "He is not apt to leave 'em to bleach their bones," said Bill Saxby."And when it comes to closing in with Blackbeard, they will have agrudge of their own."

  They made themselves as comfortable as possible on the bottom of thepirogue. Now and then Jack climbed the live-oak to look for the returnof the boats. There was no more leisure for the pirates left in the shipand the sloop. Evidently Blackbeard had been alarmed by the tidings thattwo of Stede Bonnet's men had been caught spying him out and had madetheir escape in the confusion. The sloop was now listed over in shoalwater and Bill Saxby ventured the opinion that they intended to take themast out of her and put it in the _Revenge_.

  "Along with most of her guns, I take it," said Trimble Rogers. "Whatwith losing all those men, in one way or another, this Blackbeard, asCap'n Ed'ard Teach miscalls hisself, must needs abandon the sloop. Themore the merrier, says I, when we come at close quarters."

  Jack asked many curious questions, by way of passing the time. The oldman was easy to read. He had been a lawless sea rover in the days whenthere was both gold and glory in harrying Spanish towns and galleons,from Mexico to Peru. The real buccaneers had vanished but he was too olda dog to learn new tricks and he faithfully served Stede Bonnet, who hada spark of the chivalry and manliness which had burned so brightly inthat idolized master, Captain Edward Davis.

  As for this blue-eyed smiling young Bill Saxby, he had been a smalltradesman in London. Through no fault of his own, he was cruellyimprisoned for debt and, after two years, shipped to the Carolinaplantations as no better than a slave. For all he knew, the girl wifeand child in London had been suffered to starve. He had never heard anyword of them. As a fugitive he had been taken aboard a pirate vessel.There he found kindlier treatment than honest men had ever offered him,and so grew somewhat reconciled to this wicked calling.

  On one of the occasions when Jack left these entertaining companions tovisit his high sentry post in the tree, he surmised that all hands hadbeen summoned on the vessel and lifting out her mast. He could see twoboats plying back and forth and filled with men. He lingered becausesomething else caught his interest. A little boat was putting out fromthe seaward side of the _Revenge_ and it fetched a wide circuit of theharbor. This brought the ship between it and the sloop so that itsdeparture would be unobserved by the toiling crew.

  Two men were at the oars and a third sat in the stern. At a distance,Jack guessed they were bound to one of the nearest islands, perhaps insearch of oysters or crabs, but after making a long sweep which carriedthe boat out of vision of the sloop and the beach, it swung toward theshore, a little to the northward of the mouth of the creek. The errandhad a stealthy air. Jack Cockrell started and almost fell out of thetree. He had been mistaken in his fancy that Blackbeard was in thepinnace which had towed the prisoners out to be marooned. This was noneother than the grotesque fiend of a pirate himself, furtively steeringhis cock-boat on some private errand of his own.

  As soon as he was certain of this, Jack fairly scurried down the tree,digging his toes in the bark like a squirrel, and tumbling head overheels into the pirogue. Breathing rapidly, he stuttered:

  "The--the devil himself,--in that little w-wherry of his,--c-cominginshore. He must ha' seen the canoe. He is in chase of me."

  "Go take a look, Bill," coolly remarked old Trimble Rogers, who was busyslapping at mosquitoes. "A touch o' the sun has bred a nightmare in thelad."

  Bill Saxby swarmed up the live-oak like a limber seaman with fish-hooksfor fingers and he, too, almost lost his balance at what he saw. Hewaved a warning hand at the canoe and then put his fingers to his lips.Down he came in breakneck haste and urged the others to haul their craftfarther up into the sedge. He was plucking green bushes and armfuls ofdried grass to fling across the gunwales.

  Satisfied that the canoe was entirely concealed, they crouched low. Theold man was more concerned with the pest of insects and he reached outto claw up the sticky mud with which he plastered his face and neck likea mask. This seemed to give him some relief and his comrades were gladto do the same. Bill Saxby was attentive to the priming of the musket,which he passed over to Trimble Rogers, saying:

  "You are the chief gunner, old hawk. But hold your fire. I'm itching toknow what trick this Don Whiskerando is up to."

  "Fair enough," muttered the old man. "Cap'n Bonnet 'ud clap me in ironsif I slew this filthy Ed'ard Teach and robbed him of that enjoyment.I'll pull no trigger save in our own defense."

  They heard the faint splash of oars. Soon the little cock-boat camegliding around the bend of the shore and floated into the mouth of thecreek. Bill Saxby raised himself for a moment and ducked swiftly as hewhispered:

  "He is not lookin' about but motions 'em to row on up the stream."

  "Then our canoe is not what he's after?" murmured Jack.

  "'Tis some queer game. Were he hunting us, he'd fetch along more handsthan them two. Hush! Let him
pass."

  The little boat came steadily on, the tide helping the oars. It sat verylow in the water, oddly so for the weight of three men. Blackbeard,hunched in the stern, held a pistol in one hand while the other grippedthe tiller. This was not in fear of danger from the shore because hekept his eyes on the two seamen at the oars and it was plain to see thatthe pistol was meant to menace them.

  The boat passed abreast of the pirogue so artfully concealed in thepocket of a tiny cove. The intervening distance was no more than a dozenyards. Old Trimble Rogers wistfully fingered the musket and lifted it tosquint along the barrel. Never was temptation more sturdily resisted.Then his face, hard as iron and puckered like dried leather, broke intoa smile. The idea pleased him immensely. They would follow Blackbeardand watch the chance to take him alive. He who had trapped his own menin camp was now neatly trapped himself, his retreat cut off. Tie acouple of fathom of stout cord to his whiskers and tow him along byland, all the way to Stede Bonnet's ship. There the worthy captain couldbargain with him at his own terms, silently chuckled the old buccaneer.

  They held their breath and gazed at the fantastic scoundrel who had madehimself the ogre among pirates. He had discarded the great hat ascumbersome and his tousled head was bound around with a wide strip ofthe red calico from India. Still and solid he sat, like a heathen idol,staring in front of him and intent on his mysterious errand. The unseenspectators in the pirogue scanned also the two seamen at the oars andfelt a vague pity for them. Unmistakably they were sick with fear. Itwas conveyed by their dejected aspect, by the tinge of pallor, by thefixity with which they regarded the cocked pistol in Blackbeard's fist.Jack Cockrell knew them as abandoned villains who had boasted of many abloody deed but the swarthy, pockmarked fellow had been in the boatwhich had saved the two lads from the drifting raft. This was enough toawaken a lively sympathy.

  Trimble Rogers gripped Jack's shoulder with a strength which made himwince and pointed a skinny finger at the boat. The fate of the twoseamen did not trouble him greatly. Those who lived by violence shouldrightly expect to die by it. The sea was their gaming table and it wastheir ill luck if the dice were cogged. Just then Bill Saxby stifled anejaculation. He, too, had discovered the freightage in the cock-boat,the heavy burden which made it swim so low.

  It rested in front of Blackbeard's knees, the top showing above thecurve of the gunwales. It was a sea-chest, uncommonly large, built ofsome dark tropical wood and strapped with iron. Old Trimble Rogers'fierce eyes glittered and he licked his lips. He leaned over to whisperin Bill Saxby's ear the one word:

  "_Treasure!_"