The Pirate Slaver

by Harry Collingwood

  “I will cut you adrift at once, madam,” said I, unsheathing the long knife which was attached to the belt that Simpson had lent me with the clothes. “Had I known that you were in this cruel plight, I would have risked everything in the endeavour to release you when I first entered the cabin.”

  I cut the unfortunate couple adrift, and, having first taken the precaution to draw the curtain of the side-light, lighted the lamp, and, with Maxwell’s assistance, raised the lady into a sitting position; after which we lifted her husband and placed him on the bed in the lower berth. He was a very fine, handsome man of about fifty years of age, with that indescribable and unmistakable look of the soldier about him that seems to set its mark upon every military man. His wife was perhaps seven or eight years his junior, still exceedingly good-looking, and must, at her best, have been a singularly lovely woman.

  The colonel, it appeared, had, in common with the other passengers who had any womankind on board, locked his wife and daughters into their cabins when it was foreseen that an attack upon the ship was inevitable; and it was after the fight was over that he was severely stabbed in resisting an attempt on the part of one of the Francesca’s crew to force open his daughters’ cabin. Probably the poor man would have been murdered outright but for the opportune appearance of Mendouca, who sternly ordered every one of his men out of the cabin, except two, whom he personally supervised as they executed his order to bind all the survivors hand and foot and confine them in the cabins. Luckily for the unfortunate passengers, the first thought of the men had been drink, and the second, plunder; and by the time that these two appetites had been satisfied, all thought of further violence had passed out of their heads.

  The first thing now to be done was to find the ship’s surgeon—if he were still alive; so, leaving Maxwell in the cuddy to continue his lock-picking operations, I sallied out on deck and, first softly calling to the men aloft that they might now venture to come down, hunted up the steward, and inquired of him whether he knew where the surgeon was to be found. He answered that the surgeon, purser, and three mates were all berthed in the after-house, between the main-mast and the main-hatch, and that probably the man I wanted would be found there, adding that, as he believed the pirates had flung all the keys overboard, he would take the liberty of going into poor Captain Mason’s cabin, and bringing me a bunch of spare keys that he knew were always kept there. This he did, and, finding the key of the after-house, we entered it together, to find the unhappy surgeon and purser bound hand and foot, and lashed together in such a manner that neither of them could move, upon the floor of the cabin. To release the pair was but the work of a moment; after which, having directed the doctor to hasten to the cuddy and attend to the colonel’s injuries, I made a survey of the decks with the result that fourteen more of the Bangalore’s crew were found, of whom six were dead, and eight more or less seriously wounded; the latter were removed to their bunks in the forecastle forthwith and attended to by Mr Grant, the surgeon, as soon as he had dressed the wounds of Colonel Maynard and two other passengers. I may as well say here, to save time, that, thanks to Grant’s skill and unremitting attention, all the wounded were reported to be doing well and, with the exception of Colonel Maynard, out of danger.

  The keys of all the cabins having been found, and the doors unlocked by the steward, Maxwell’s services were no longer required in the cuddy; as therefore the brigantine had by this time reached the tolerably safe distance of a mile from us, I sent him down into the run again to drive the plugs well home and make them perfectly secure, and set to work with the steward to release the remaining passengers from their exceedingly uncomfortable condition. This was not a long task, and when it was completed I found that we mustered nine gentlemen, of whom three were wounded, eleven ladies, three children—two boys and a girl—seven maids, and an Indian ayah or nurse. One family, consisting of a lady and her daughter, were in a dreadful state of distress, the husband and father—a Mr Richard Temple, resident magistrate of one of the up-country districts—having been shot dead while gallantly fighting in defence of the ship. The rest were in fairly good spirits, now that they found that there was a hope of ultimate escape from the perils that had so unexpectedly beset them; for I learned that although their personal baggage had been rifled and all money and jewellery taken, they had been spared any further outrage than that of being bound with unnecessary and cruel rigour and confined to their cabins.

  The poor souls had been without food or drink since tiffin. I thought therefore that it would not be amiss to set them down to a good meal, and with that object directed the steward to find his mates and also the cook, if possible, it appearing that none of the individuals named had been seen either during or since the attack, which gave rise to the suspicion that they had contrived to conceal themselves somewhere about the ship. This proved to be the case, the cook, with his mates, and the three under-stewards being eventually discovered in a disused pig-sty under the topgallant-forecastle, carefully concealed beneath a lot of lumber that they had dragged over themselves. From this secluded retreat they were speedily routed out, and, being solemnly assured that all danger was now past, were at length prevailed upon to resume their duty and to prepare a long-delayed dinner—or supper, as it might be more appropriately called—for the cuddy occupants.

  When at length the meal was served, I took the liberty of occupying the poor murdered captain’s seat at the table; and while we were eating and drinking, I managed to gain a pretty clear idea of the incidents of the attack upon the Bangalore each one having passed through some more or less trying experience which he or she was anxious to relate to the rest; and when the meal was over Mr Molyneux, a Calcutta merchant, rose to his feet and, while formally thanking me on behalf of himself and his fellow-passengers for what I had already done, expressed their perfect concurrence in the wish of the surviving crew that I should take command of the ship, merely suggesting the great desirability of navigating her forthwith to the nearest civilised port. This, of course, was my own fixed intention, and I suggested Sierra Leone as the most suitable spot for which to make, it being as near as any other, with the advantage that the necessary officers to navigate the ship home, and a sufficient number of men to make up the full complement of the crew, might almost certainly be reckoned upon being found there.

  The brigantine had left us, and with her departure everybody appeared to consider the danger as past. This, however, was an opinion which I by no means shared; for, knowing Mendouca so well as I did, I felt that it was by no means unlikely that, having reached an offing of some ten or twelve miles, he might order the sweeps to be laid in until daylight, in order that he might remain in our neighbourhood and assure himself by the actual demonstration of his own—or Pedro’s—eyesight that the Bangalore had foundered, taking with her to the bottom all evidence of the atrocious crime of which he and his crew had been guilty. And, even should no uncomfortable doubts on this point assail him, he must learn, ere the lapse of many hours, that I and others were missing; and then, guessing, as he would at once, at the explanation of our absence, nothing would prevent him from returning and taking, or attempting to take, such measures as would insure our eternal silence.

  I therefore considered it a singular if not an actually providential occurrence that when I went out on deck after dinner—or supper—the sky should have become overcast, with scarcely a star to be seen, with every appearance of both wind and rain ere long. It had become exceedingly dark, so much so that no sign of the brigantine was to be discovered, but by listening intently the roll and clatter of her sweeps were still to be caught; and it was with very deep and fervent thankfulness that, after listening intently for several minutes, I felt convinced that she was still receding from us. I had given strict orders that the lanterns should be allowed to remain burning on deck, just as the pirates had left them, that no other lights should be kindled anywhere about the ship except where it was possible to effectually mask their light, and that no one should show an
ything of himself above the level of the topgallant-rail upon any consideration; but now, the brigantine having been gone from us rather more than two hours, I gave instructions that all the lanterns on deck and all lights of every kind visible from outside the ship might be simultaneously extinguished, so that, should anybody happen to be watching our lights, they might come to the conclusion that the ship had filled and we were gone to the bottom. This done, I mustered my entire crew and, first hoisting in the long-boat, sent them aloft to stow all the lighter sails, so that we might not be wholly unprepared should the change of weather that now seemed impending be ushered in with a squall. This occupied the men a full hour and a half, at the end of which, having brought the ship into tolerably manageable condition, I gave them permission to lie down and snatch a nap if they could, but to hold themselves ready for any emergency that might arise.

  It was by this time long past midnight, and so pitchy dark that, all lights having been extinguished, it was impossible to see one end of the poop from the other. The stars had all vanished, and the silence was so profound as to be quite oppressive, not even the sound of the pirate’s sweeps now being audible; though whether they had been laid in, or whether the vessel had increased her distance so greatly as to have passed beyond the range of sound, I knew not, but I strongly suspected the former contingency. This profound silence was maintained for nearly an hour, and then my hearing—rendered unusually acute no doubt by the intense darkness that enveloped me—once more became conscious of a regular, measured, rhythmical sound, the sound of sweeps again being plied, and, without doubt, on board the Francesca. What did it mean? Had Mendouca, in his feverish and painful condition, grown impatient of delay and ordered the sweeps to be again manned, after having given instructions for them to be laid in? Or, as my forebodings whispered to me, had the absence of myself and others been already discovered, and was the brigantine returning in search of us? For the first quarter of an hour or so after the sounds had once again broken in upon the silence this was a question very difficult to decide; but when half-an-hour had passed the fact was indisputable that the pirates were returning, for the sounds had become distinctly clearer and stronger than they had at first been.

  What was now to be done? There was but one course for us; namely, to take every possible measure for the defence of the ship to our last gasp, for I felt assured that, should Mendouca recover possession of her, his fury at the trick that we had played him would be sated by nothing short of our absolute destruction. Having quickly made up my mind upon this point, I was in the act of groping my way along the poop, with the object of calling the men, when I thought I felt a faint stirring of the air, and, pausing for a moment, I moistened the back of my hand and held it up, turning it this way and that until I felt a distinct sensation of coolness. Yes, there was no doubt about it, I had felt a cat’s-paw, and it seemed to be coming over our starboard quarter; while the sound of the sweeps was away broad on our port bow. I could scarcely restrain a cheer as the hope of a breeze thus came to encourage me at the very moment when a new and terrible danger was threatening us. I paused for an instant and reflected; and my thoughts took somewhat this shape: “If Mendouca is returning—and he undoubtedly is—it is because through some unfortunate combination of circumstances my absence has already been discovered, and he has at once jumped to the correct conclusion that I have somehow contrived to escape from the brigantine to the ship. And he knows me well enough to feel assured that, once here, I shall not tamely allow the Indiaman to go down under my feet; or, if that should prove unpreventible, that I shall at least release the prisoners and concoct with them some plan of escape, such as taking to the boats, or constructing a raft. And he also knows that, in either case, should we succeed in preserving our lives until we are fallen in with, or picked up, his atrocious act of piracy and murder will be proclaimed, and every craft in the squadron will be specially ordered to keep a look-out for him and effect his capture at all hazards. Therefore he will spare no effort to find the ship and destroy her. Now—ah, there is another little breath of wind, I felt it distinctly that time!—should he fail to find us, what course will he pursue? Why, he will certainly expect us to make our way northward—for Sierra Leone, most probably, the port that we have already determined to steer for—and he will do his best to overtake and recapture us. Therefore our best course will obviously be to head to the southward, and thus increase the distance between the two craft as rapidly as possible, so that they may be out of sight of each other at daybreak; and then to proceed upon our proper course under easy sail.”

  This seemed to me to be a very fair and sound line of reasoning, and I determined to act upon it forthwith. I accordingly made my way forward, routed out the men, told them there was a breeze coming, and ordered them to brace up the yards and trim the sheets aft for a close-hauled stretch on the port tack, at the same time cautioning them to work silently, as I had only too much reason to fear that the pirates were returning to search for the ship. This news, confirmed as it was by the now perfectly audible sound of the sweeps, was enough for them, and they went about the decks so silently, speaking in whispers, and carefully taking each rope off its belaying-pin, and laying it down on deck, instead of flinging it down with clatter enough to wake the Seven Sleepers, that I am certain no one in the cabins, even had they been awake, could possibly have been aware of what was happening.

  By the time that we had got our canvas trimmed the breeze had become quite perceptible, and the ship had gathered steerage-way; we therefore wore her round, and presently had the ineffable satisfaction of hearing a slight but distinct tinkling and gurgle of water under the bows.

  With the springing up of this most welcome little breeze the sound of the sweeps first became by imperceptible degrees less audible and then was lost altogether, but whether this arose from the fact that the wind carried the sound away from us, or whether it was that they had laid in the sweeps, and were making sail upon the brigantine, it was impossible to tell, nor did I greatly care, provided that the breeze freshened sufficiently to carry us out of sight before daybreak, this now being my great anxiety. Maxwell assured me that the Bangalore was a real clipper, easily beating everything that they had fallen in with, both on the passage out and on their homeward voyage. But no ship can sail fast without a fair amount of wind, and so far this breeze that had come to us was a mere breathing, just enough perhaps to waft us along at a speed of about two knots, or two and a half, maybe, whereas what I wanted was at least a seven-knot breeze, that would take us clean out of sight of our starting-point before dawn. For I knew that, if the Bangalore was a clipper, so too was the Francesca; and if her people once caught sight of so much as the heads of our royals from their own royal-yard, they would chase us as long as there was the slightest hope of overhauling us. And the knowledge of this fact made me wonder whether I had not acted rather imprudently in stowing all the lighter sails, instead of leaving them abroad to give us all the help of which they were capable. I was just inwardly debating this point, and had arrived at the conclusion that we ought to set them again, when the atmosphere seemed suddenly to grow more dense, and in a moment down came the rain in a regular tropical deluge, like the bursting of a waterspout, the sails flapped to the masts, and we were becalmed again. This was horribly vexatious, not to say disheartening; but, happily for our peace of mind, it was a state of things that did not last long; it merely meant a shift of wind, for presently, when the shower had ceased as abruptly as it had begun, the breeze sprang up again, this time coming out from the northward, and with gay and thankful hearts we squared away before it, or rather, headed just far enough to the eastward of south to permit everything set to draw properly. Moreover, the breeze gradually but steadily freshened, until in about an hour from the time when the ship first began to move we were going seven knots at the very least.

  This was so far satisfactory, especially as the sky remained overcast and the night intensely dark, rendering it utterly impossible to see anything
beyond a distance of three or four of the ship’s lengths on either hand, and I now had good hopes of running the brigantine out of sight before daylight. That she was still engaged in the search for us, however, soon became evident; for about three-quarters of an hour after the springing up of the true breeze our attention was suddenly attracted by the outburst of a brilliant glare of bluish-white light on our port-quarter, which was nothing less than the brigantine burning port-fires, probably in an attempt to discover our whereabouts by the reflection of the light on our sails, or possibly in the expectation of catching sight, by means of the light, either of our boats, or a raft, or perhaps a hen-coop and grating or two floating about as evidence of our having gone down. However, she was about five miles distant from us at that time, and although the light of the port-fires rendered her perfectly visible to us, I had little or no fear that it would betray our whereabouts to her people. She remained dodging about and occasionally burning port-fires for fully another hour—by which time we had sunk her to her foreyard below the horizon, as viewed from our deck—and then, as she discontinued her pyrotechnic display, we lost sight of her. At daybreak I sent a man right up to the main-royal-yard, where he remained until the light was thoroughly strong, and then came down with the report that the horizon was clear.

  This was highly satisfactory, inasmuch as it confirmed my hope that if Mendouca was still prosecuting a search for us—as I felt sure he was, he having of course failed to discover any evidence of the ship having foundered—he was looking for us in a northerly direction, very probably cracking on in the belief that we had gone that way and that there was still a chance of overtaking us.

  At eight bells in the morning watch we brought the ship to the wind on the larboard tack, with her head about east-north-east, and I then divided my scanty crew into two watches, with Joe Maxwell, the carpenter, as my chief mate, and a very smart A.B., named Tom Sutcliffe, as second. This done, the watch was set, and put to the job of straightening-up generally and pumping out the ship, this latter job being accomplished and the pumps sucking in just under the ten minutes that Maxwell had allowed for it. It was clear, therefore, that our hull was sound, and that in that respect, at all events, with the best—or rather the worst—intentions in the world, the pirates had done us little or no harm.