Chapter Fifteen.
Another Escape.
The excitement seemed to bring Jack more and more to the front, and those who followed read in his actions why it was that he had been successful in freeing them from their pursuers at the time of the escape.
For, active as a goat, he crept from rock to rock, lowering himself down here, dropping there, and having from time to time to wait to give the rest an opportunity for keeping up. And all the while the parts of the cliff side that were the most wooded, and which offered the best shelter, were selected, and discovery by the sleeping men avoided.
It was an arduous task; but the guide was equal to the emergency, and continuously and silently proceeding succeeded at length in dropping down to the sandy shore about fifty yards from where the men lay apparently asleep and sheltered by a huge mass of weed-grown stone, while the cutter swung by its anchor a hundred yards further on beyond the sailors, and she rose and fell easily as the slight tide ran softly down.
Jack grasped the situation clearly, and felt how little time there was to lose. At any moment the heads of the hunting party might appear as they came down the ravine to the bay, while, supposing these to be really asleep, the first shout would bring them to their feet, and then all chance of escape would be gone.
The men had laid down close up under the cliff so as to be sheltered from the sun and from an instinctive desire to be beyond the reach of any venturesome wave, so that to reach the cutter the fugitives would have to pass her guardians between them and the sea.
This brought the escaping party nearer to the cutter, but placed them full in the view of those who might be coming down the ravine at the head of the bay, and also shut them off from shelter and concealment should an emergency arise.
Jack had played so prominent a part hitherto that the eyes of all were directed to him for further instructions, and for a moment he hesitated and pointed to Abel.
“No,” whispered the latter, “you have done so well; go on.”
Jack hesitated for a moment or two more, and then said in a low voice—
“All follow quickly and go to the far side of the bay, seize the boat, and we are safe.”
“But there is no boat,” said Bart.
Jack pointed to a mass of rock, some fifty yards away, where a few inches of the stern of a boat were visible, but which had not been seen by the others.
“Lead on,” said Abel, abruptly; “and if the men wake up Bart and I will tackle them while you and Dinny here get into the boat and row out. We’ll swim to you, and you can take us in.”
“And d’ye think I’m going to run away like that?” whispered Dinny. “I’ll shtay.”
“Dinny!” whispered Jack, fiercely.
“Ah, well, I forgot I was a soldier, my lad. I’ll obey orders.”
Whereupon Abel examined the priming of his musket, and Bart tried the bayonet at the end of the bamboo shaft to see if it was firm, while Dinny whispered—
“Howld her tight to yer shoulther, lad, when ye fire, for she’s a divil to kick.”
Jack gave a glance round once more, and then, holding up a hand to command silence, he listened, but all was still save the lapping of the waves as the tide retired and then returned.
His next proceeding was to steal out to where he could get a good look at the three sailors left in charge.
One lay on his breast, with his arms folded and his brow resting upon them. The second lay upon his back, with his hands beneath him, and his cap tilted over his eyes. The third was upon his side with his back to them, and all apparently fast asleep, for neither stirred.
Jack would have gladly waited till dark; but to have done this might have meant losing their means of escape, for they were not certain that the party would stay all night.
So, feeling this, and that their only chance lay in a bold attempt, he glanced back once, and after seeing that his companions were quite ready to follow, he stepped out quietly on to the yielding sand and made for the spot where the small boat lay.
To reach this boat the party had to pass within some fifty feet or so of the sleepers, and the crucial moments would be when they had passed within ken of the man lying upon his side with his back to them. Even if the others were awake it would be possible to pass them unseen; but it was otherwise with the third man, whose position would enable him to see whoever crossed the sands of the little bay, while, for aught they knew, he might be a faithful guardian, keeping strict watch over both boat and cutter while his companions slept.
Jack walked softly on, the sand deadening his tread, so that he was soon abreast of the guardians of the boat, and another five minutes would suffice for him and his party to reach the boat and push her off, when, armed as they were, they could have laughed at pursuit.
Another few yards and no one stirred. Jack gazed over his left shoulder at the dangerous reclining figure, but its position remain unchanged.
Another few yards, and still there was no sign, nor likely to be, for there could be no doubt of the fact—the man was fast asleep, and the agitation and anxiety of the fugitives was apparently wasted.
Jack glanced back to see that his companions were following in Indian file, walking upon the tips of their feet, and casting glances from time to time at the spot from which danger would arise.
Another dozen yards and the leader of the little party felt safe, when a sharp report came from the ravine above, the shot echoing and reverberating along the sides of the cliffs till it sounded like a peal of thunder which drowned the shout that followed, a shout meant as a warning to the guardians of the boat that their party was close at hand.
The man lying upon his side sprang to his feet, and the other two woke up, to stare stupidly about them before they realised the state of affairs, and that their companion had seized his musket, from where it lay with those of his fellows against the foot of the cliff which towered above their heads; for in accordance with their plans, Jack and Dinny had run on and seized the boat, while Abel and Bart had faced round with their weapons ready, retreating slowly toward the sea.
For a few moments no word was spoken, and then it was the first of the three sailors who realised their position.
“It’s cat or a bullet in us, mates,” he cried, desperately. “I says bullet; so come on.”
The other two were Englishmen like himself, and evidently entertained their comrade’s preference for a chance bullet or a stab to being tried by court martial and sentenced to a flogging, so they also snatched up their muskets and belts, hastily threw the latter over their shoulders, and, taught by training, brought their pieces to bear, shouting to the prisoners to surrender.
“Give up, you lubbers!” cried the first sailor. “It’s of no good.”
For answer Abel glanced over his shoulder, and seeing that Jack and Dinny had reached the boat, slowly continued the retreat.
“Will you surrender?” roared the sailor, as another shout came from the ravine.
“Surrender yourselves,” cried Bart, fiercely. “Lay down them guns.”
“Surrender, or we fire,” cried the sailor again, as the two men slowly backed toward the boat, watchful of a rush being made.
Bart uttered a low, defiant growl, and the bamboo he held quivered in his knotted hands.
“All together, then, mates,” shouted the sailor, “fire!”
Jack uttered a groan as he stood knee deep in water, running the boat as near as it could be got to his friend, and a mist swam before his eyes.
Click click click!—and as many tiny showers of sparks were struck in the pans of the pieces.
“Why, you stupid lubbers, you didn’t load!” roared the sailor. “Now, then, ground arms—load!”
A shout of derision arose from Abel and Bart, and the former took up the tone of menace now.
“Throw down your muskets, or I fire,” he cried.
“P’raps you’re not loaded neither, mate,” cried the sailor, laughing. “Now, lads. Bagnets: charge.”
His companions hesitated for a moment, and then, lowering their pieces, they made a rush for those who barred their way to the boat.
Bang!
One sharp report. The right-hand sailor span round, dropped his musket, stooped down and seized his leg beneath the knee, and dropped into a sitting position upon the sand.
“Hurt, mate?” cried the first sailor, halting.
“Leg,” was the laconic reply.
“Never mind,” cried the first sailor. “Come, on, mate.”
He lowered his piece again, and the two rushed upon Bart and Abel, as brave as lions now in the excitement.
These two had taken advantage of the man being wounded to back rapidly toward the boat, lying in the shallow water; but the sand was heavy, and they had to face the enemy all the time. For the latter came at them with stubborn determination, reached them while they were a good twenty yards from the water, and a fierce fight ensued.
It was as brief as it was hot and determined, for, after a few moments’ fencing, the second sailor delivered a deadly thrust, at Abel; while the principal man, a sturdy, tall fellow, crossed weapons with Bart, whose slight bamboo lance was a feeble defence against the bayonet at the end of the musket. Moreover, the fugitives were fighting with the disadvantage of being seen now by the well-armed party returning from the hunt. These had received warning that something was wrong by hearing the shots, and were now running rapidly down toward the sandy shore.
“Now,” said the second sailor, presenting his piece, which was opposed to one minus the bayonet blade—“now I have you. Surrender!”
For answer Abel stepped back, clubbed his weapon, swung it round, and brought it down with such violence that the butt struck the other musket full upon the stock, and dashed it from its holder’s hand.
Before Abel could get another blow round, the man had dashed in, closed with him, and, to Jack’s agony, capture seemed certain.
Meantime the first sailor had made several fierce passes at Bart, who was scratched once upon the wrist, and had drawn blood on the other side, when his bamboo lance broke, and he seemed at the mercy of his antagonist.
Heavy as he was, Bart was activity itself, and reversing the encounter going on between the other two, he avoided a thrust by striking the bayonet aside with his arm, and closed with his adversary.
The two locked together in a desperate struggle directly, for the sailor abandoned his musket as soon as Bart was at close quarters, and gripped him round the waist.
“I’ll have you, anyhow,” he panted, as he lifted Bart from the ground.
“Let go, or I’ll crush in your ribs,” growled Bart, savagely.
“Do it, mate,” retorted the sailor, swinging Bart round, and trying to throw him; but he might as well have tried to throw off his arms. Then by a desperate wrench Bart loosened the other’s grip, so that he could touch ground once more, and the struggle went on like some desperate bout in wrestling.
These encounters were matters of a minute or so; but to Jack and Dinny, standing knee deep in the water holding the boat ready for the escape, and the oars where they could be seized in an instant, the minute seemed an hour. They would have gone to the help of their comrades, but it seemed to them that they would be cutting off the means of escape; and in addition, the various phases of the fight succeeded each other so rapidly that there was hardly time to think.
“Give me that shtick,” cried Dinny at last; and he snatched one from where it lay upon the thwarts of the boat, just as Abel sent his adversary down half-stunned and turned to help Bart.
“Quick, lad! Hold still a moment!” cried Abel, as the overseer came running down from the head of the bay, in company with the officer and half a dozen men.
The words were wasted, for Bart and the first sailor were writhing and twining on the sands like two wild beasts. Bart strove hard to shake himself free; but the effort was vain, for the sailor had fastened on him like a bull-dog, and held on with a tenacity that could not be mastered.
“It’s of no use,” panted Bart, as Dinny ran up. For the enemy were not two hundred yards away, and running fast. “Escape, my lads! Never mind me!”
“Let me get one hit at him,” cried Dinny.
“Ah, would you, Paddy!” roared the sailor, wresting Bart round as a shield. “I know you.”
“Now, you!” cried Dinny to Abel.
But it was like striving to hit a twining serpent upon the head, and strive how they would, Bart’s friends could do nothing till the pair had struggled together to the very edge of the water, and then went splashing in.
“Get his head down, Bart, and he’ll soon let go.”
Easier said than done. The sailor had his arms well about his adversary, and Bart’s effort was vain.
“Surrender, there!” shouted the overseer. “Give up, or we’ll fire!”
“Let go, or I’ll smash you,” growled Bart, as he caught sight of the enemy coming on.
For answer the sailor clung the more tightly; and as Bart rose to his knee after a fall, the water was now well up to their middles.
“Here, boat, Jack, lad!” cried Dinny. “Now, captain, lay howlt!”
Abel grasped his meaning, and seized one side of the human knot, composed of two bodies and the customary complement of arms and legs, while Dinny caught the other, and together they trailed it through the shallow water to meet the boat.
“Now, Master Jack,” cried Dinny, “take a howlt!”
Jack seized Bart by the waist as the boat’s gunwale touched him. Abel and Dinny lifted together, and the result was that a certain amount of water went in over the side; but with it, heaving and struggling still, the knotted together bodies of Bart and his adversary, to lie in the bottom of the little craft, the sailor, fortunately for the escaping party, undermost.
“Sit down and row!” roared Abel; but his order was needless, for Jack had seated himself on the thwart, thrust out the oars at once, and began to pull; while on opposite sides, Dinny and Abel ran the boat out till they were breast-high in the water, when they gave it a final thrust and began to climb in.
By this time they were thirty or forty yards from the dry sand, down which the overseer and his party came running, and stopped at the edge.
“Halt! Surrender!” roared the overseer, savagely.
There was no reply, but the oars were plied swiftly, and the boat glided over the glassy swell.
“Fire!” roared the overseer, raising his piece; and a shower of buckshot came whistling and pattering by them, several of the little bullets striking the boat.
“Fire!” roared the overseer again. “Curse you! Why don’t you fire!”
A scattered volley from half a dozen pieces answered his furious order, and as the little party glanced back, it was to see that those on shore were reloading rapidly, the peculiar noise made by the ramming down of the wads being plainly heard, mingled with the thudding of the ramrods as the charges were driven home.
No one spoke in the boat, but Abel and Dinny rapidly got oars over the side and began to pull, the latter having the harder work from the heaving bodies of the two combatants occupying the bottom of the boat, a fact which necessitated his standing up; but all the same he helped the boat vigorously along.
“Are ye going to lie down?” said Dinny, as he saw the enemy wade out as far as they could and prepare to fire.
“No!” said Abel. “You can.”
“Divil a bit will I, if you don’t,” said Dinny, “and good luck to ’em! They’ve only got big pellets for shooting the pigs, and they won’t kill except at close quarthers.”
Another scattered volley rang echoing out, and thundered along the cliffs, the smoke hiding the enemy from the gaze of those in the boat.
“Murther!” yelled Dinny, dropping his oar, but stooping to pick it up again as he shook his hand. “It’s gone right through,” he continued, as he gazed at a bead of blood oozing from the back of his hand, and another on the other side in the centre of his palm. “I wish I knew the divil who fired that. It feels like one of the overseer’s games.”
“Anyone else hit?” said Abel. “Jack!”
“It’s nothing—a scratch,” said Jack, rowing away with all his might, as the blood began to trickle down from a scored place upon his forehead. “Go on rowing.”
“Bad luck to ’em! There’s so many shot in a charge; it gives ’em such a chance,” grumbled Dinny. “But niver mind, Masther Jack. It’ll be a bit of a shmart; but losing a dhrop o’ blood won’t hurt ye.”
Jack nodded, and tugged away rapidly, reducing the distance between them and the cutter; but they could not get farther from the firing party, who kept up a furious fusillade as they followed along round the side of the little bay, the pellets whistling by the fugitives, and more than one finding a home.
“Faix, and ye’ve got the best place there, Bart, me lad,” cried Dinny, merrily. “Shall I come and howlt him while you take a change?”
“Look here!” growled Bart, as another volley was fired at them, and the shot came hurtling round; “it’s no good now. Are you going to give in?”
The sailor looked from one to the other as he lay, with his head in the water at the bottom of the boat.
“Well, this here ar’nt cheerful,” he said.
“You’re beat. Why don’t you give in?”
“Is it weazand slitting?” he said. “Snickersnee!”
“Get out!” cried Dinny. “Did they cut mine?”
“Yours, you deserter!” said the sailor, contemptuously.
“As much a deserter as you are, Dick Dullock. Sure, and they tuck me prishner, wid a musket to me ear and a bagnet to my chist.”
“You look like one,” said the sailor, sourly.
“Will you surrender?” growled Bart.
“Yes. Can’t do no more, can I? Only bear witness, all on you, as I did my dooty. Didn’t I, youngster?”
“You fought like a brave man,” said Jack, gravely; “but it is of no use to struggle now, so give up.”
“Ay, I’ll give in,” said the sailor; “but I’m a-going to lie here till the firing’s done. I’ll stand fire when there’s fighting o’ both sides; but I’m a prisoner now, and out of it, so here I stays.”
Bart rose from where he had been kneeling on the man’s chest, and straightened himself slowly, but only to start as a fresh volley was fired and a pellet grazed his chin; but he only uttered a savage growl like an angry beast, and made way for Dinny to sit down and row with all his strength.
Suddenly a shout from the bay shore took the attention of those in the boat, and the firing ceased.
“What’s that mean?” cried Abel.
“They’ve found our boat,” said Jack, excitedly.
It was true enough; and the fugitives redoubled their efforts to reach the cutter, while the overseer continued the firing, so as to disable some of the party before they could attain the shelter the vessel would give.
Abel was hit twice, and Bart received another shot, but the distance was great now, and the pellets too small to do serious mischief; but as they rowed round behind the cutter, anxiously watching to see that no one was aboard, its hull sheltering them from the firing, the noise and the buzz of voices ashore drew their attention to the fact that the overseer, the officer, and four more had entered the boat, which started with a cheer from those left behind, and pulled rapidly in pursuit.
“Quick, Bart, run up the jib while I cut the rope.”
“Nay, haul up to it, you and Dinny,” cried Bart, as he ran forward. “It’s only a grapnel.”
The firing recommenced now so viciously that every act on board the cutter was performed with great risk, the overseer and the officer taking it in turns to send a hail of buckshot at everyone who showed a head above the low side of the vessel.
But in spite of this the party worked well, and the sailor having surrendered, contented himself, as soon as he was aboard, by lying down upon the deck and beginning to chew.
The grapnel was hauled in, the jib hoisted, and Jack stationed at the tiller; but the sail slowly flapped to and fro, refusing to fill, and the only way on the cutter was that given by the falling tide.
“She’ll be aboard of us, Bart, long before we get out of the bay,” said Abel, with a groan of despair.
“Niver say die,” cried Dinny, who had just given a turn to the painter which held the cutter’s boat.
“Are there any arms aboard?” growled Bart. “Cuss it! look there!”
This last was consequent upon a shot ploughing a little channel along his neck. “D’yer hear what I say—you?” he said again to their prisoner. “Are there any arms aboard?”
“Yes, in the cabin—muskets,” said the sailor; “but you leave ’em alone, my lad. This here as you’ve done’s piracy, and if you kill anybody it’s murder.”
“Then let ’em keep off,” said Bart, with a fierce growl as he followed Abel into the cabin, both reappearing again directly with muskets and ammunition.
“I tell you it’s piracy,” said the sailor from where he lay. “Isn’t it, Dennis Kelly?”
“Faix, I s’pose it is,” said Dinny, smiling. “There’s so much in a name.”
“Here you, Dinny, get up a musket,” cried Abel. “You can shoot.”
“Don’t you, Dinny!” said the sailor. “It’s hanging business.”
“But I’m a prishner,” said Dinny, grinning, “and obliged.”
“It’ll be a hanging matter, Dinny,” cried the sailor, as the Irishman reappeared with a musket in his hand.
“It’ll be a flogging sure if I’m took,” said Dinny, “for they’ll niver belave I’m acting against my will. Now, Captain Abel,” he continued, as he loaded his piece, and laid it so that he could command the boat, “whin you ordher me to fire, why, av coorse I shall, but you must take the credit of the shot.”
“Keep off!” roared Abel, as the boat now neared them fast. “You’ll get bullets instead of buckshot: you come nearer.”
“Surrender, you piratical scoundrel!” roared the overseer. “Put down that musket. Row hard, my lads!”
Whatever may have been the overseer’s weakness, want of courage was not one; and this he proved by discharging his piece, and standing up in the boat to watch the effect.
The distance was short, but there was a faint puff of air now which filled the sail, and there was a feeling of intense relief as the cutter rapidly left the coming boat behind.
Jack’s cheeks flushed, and his eyes sparkled as, with a touch of the tiller, he seemed to send the cutter rushing through the water; while an angry yell rose from behind as the boat dropped back.
But their despondency in the boat was only of a minute’s duration, for the wind dropped as suddenly as it had risen, the cutter ceased to glide onward with the water rattling and splashing beneath her bows, the jib shivered and hung motionless, and a cheer arose from the pursuers as the firing recommenced.
“Be ready, Bart,” said Abel, with a lurid look in his eyes, as he once more levelled his piece. “You, Dinny, are you going to help?”
“No,” said the sailor. “It’s piracy and murder if you shoot them, Dinny Kelly, and it’s fair-play if they shoot you.”
“Yis, it is awkward,” said Dinny; “but Oi’m thinking I don’t want to go back and be on senthry again, and there, Oi’ll make a compromise of it. I won’t shoot, but I’m mak’ believe, and frecken ’em.”
As he spoke he lay down on the deck and took aim at the occupants of the coming boat, whose position was extremely perilous, while the sides of the cutter sheltered those on board.
“Keep back!” roared Abel, as the boat neared them fast. “We’re loaded with ball, not shot.”
There was a momentary indecision on the part of the overseer, and it was instantly communicated to the men, for they ceased to paddle, while the two principals bent forward and spoke earnestly.
“No, they will not dare,” said the overseer, loudly. “Go on, my lads! Surrender, you dogs, or you shall all be hung.”
The boat was urged through the water again, and the overseer raised his fowling-piece, took aim, and was about to fire, when the officer with him laid his hand upon his arm.
“Wait,” he said. “Then both fire together, close in, and board.”
“We’ll do that afterwards,” cried the overseer, discharging his piece and rapidly reloading as the boat glided on till it was only about twenty yards away, and, in spite of a fierce threat or two, the repugnance to shed blood and the natural desire not to fight against the law had kept Abel and Bart from returning the fire.
Their case seemed hopeless now, unless in the struggle to come they repelled the boarders, for the wind which dotted the sea a hundred yards away with ripples refused to kiss their sail, and in another minute the overseer and his party would have been alongside, when, just as he covered Jack’s arm, which could be seen lying upon the tiller, and when a shot at such short range would have been almost as bad as one from a bullet, there was a puff of smoke, a sharp report, and the overseer started up in the boat, dropped his fowling-piece, which fell into the sea with a splash, and then, before the officer could save him, he pitched head foremost over the side.
“Look at that now,” said Dinny, who had risen into a sitting position on the deck, with his musket across his lap.
“Yes; you’ve done it now, Dinny Kelly,” said the sailor, gruffly. “Desarted from the station, and shot the superintendent.”
“Sorra a bit,” said Dinny, as the wind suddenly struck the cutter, which heeled over and began to forge rapidly through the water. “Sorra a bit, man. It was this awkward baste of a mushket. I just closed my finger for a moment on the thrigger, and whoo! off she went, kicking up her heels like a nigger’s mule. D’yer think the overseer’s hurt?”
“I think you’ve killed him.”
“Not I, bedad. It was me mushket,” said Dinny. “Divil a bit will I have any more to do wid it. I’ll have another with a thrigger which isn’t wake.”
“You’ve saved us, Dinny,” said Jack, excitedly, as the boat was being left far behind.
“Not I, my lad. Shure, it’s between the wind and this worn-out old mushket. It’s a baste of a thing. Why, it moight have killed the poor man. I say, lad; d’yer think he’s much hurt?”
“A broken arm, that’s all, Dinny,” said Jack, smiling.
“Ah, well!” said Dinny, reloading the piece; “that’ll do him good, and give the poor divils at the plantation a bit of a rest.”
He paused in the act of reloading, drew the charge with a dry look upon his countenance, and laid the musket down upon the deck.
“No, thank ye,” he said, shaking his head at the piece. “It’s a murdhering baste ye are, and ye’ll be getting some poor fellow into throuble wan of these days. Don’t you think so, Dick?”
The prisoner screwed up his countenance, and then relaxed it as he looked hard at Dinny.
“Well, it’s pretty nigh a hanging matter for you, Dinny,” he said.
“What! for an accident, man?”
“Accident! you’ve gone and committed a rank act of piracy! But, I say, what’ll they do with me?”
“Hang ye, I should say,” replied Dinny, with a droll look in his eye. “Hang ye as soon as they’ve got toime to think about ye; or no: maybe they’ll save themselves the throuble, and hand ye over to thim ruffians there.”
He pointed over the side, and the sailor gave a start and changed colour as he caught sight of the back-fins of a couple of huge sharks gliding along through the water a little way astern.
“Oh, they’re a bad lot with their prisoners, Dick. Look at me.”
“But what are they going to do?” said the sailor, eagerly. “They can’t put in anywhere, and as soon as this day’s work’s known, they’ll have a man-o’-war sent after ’em.”
“Sorra a wan o’ me knows,” said Dinny; “but it’s moighty plisant out here. I’m toired o’ pipe-claying me belts and marching and being senthry, and they may make me prishner as long as they like.”
“You didn’t half-kill one of them, and they don’t bear malice against you,” said the sailor, thoughtfully.
“An’ is it malice? Why, didn’t I thry to run wan of ’em through wid me bagnet, and attimpt to shoot the other! Malice! I belave they liked it, for we’ve been the best o’ friends iver since. Here, Bart, me lad; Dick here wants to shake hands with yez.”
“I don’t,” said the sailor, sternly; but as Bart came from where he had been taking a pull at one of the ropes, smiling and open-handed, Dick’s face relaxed.
“That was a pretty good wrastle,” said Bart, running his eye approvingly over the physique of his late opponent, and gripping Dick’s hand heartily; “but I got the best of you.”
Dick did not answer, but he returned the grip, and Bart went aft directly to relieve Jack at the tiller, while the darkness came on rapidly, and with it the breeze increased in force till the cutter careened over and rapidly left the island behind.
“Well, Dennis Kelly,” said the sailor, as they sat together on board later, with the stars gathering overhead, and faint sounds wafted to them from time to time as they glided rapidly along a few miles from land, “you can only make one thing of it, my boy, and that’s piracy; and piracy’s yard-arm, and a swing at the end of the rope.”
“Ah! get along wid ye,” said Dinny, contemptuously, “and don’t call things by bad names. They’re three very plisant fellows, and they’ve borried the boat and taken us prishners to help them in the cruise; or, if ye like it better, we’re pressed men.”
“But what are they going to do next?”
“Divil a bit do I know, and the divil a bit do I care. I’ve no belts to pipe-clay, and you’ve no deck to holy-stone. What there is to ate they share wid ye, and they take their turn at the watch. Sure, it’s a gintleman’s life, and what more would ye have?”
“But it’s piracy—rank piracy!” said Dick, stubbornly; “and I want to know what we’re going to do next.”
“Well, thin, I’ll tell ye,” said Dinny; “but it’s a saycret, moind.”
“Well, what?”
“It’s a saycret, moind,” said Dinny, “and ye won’t tell?”
“Tell! Who is there to tell here?”
“Nobody yet; but ye’ll keep the saycret?”
“Yes,” said Dick, earnestly. “What are they going to do?”
“Didn’t I say I’d tell ye,” said Dinny, “as soon as I know?”
“Yah!” snarled Dick.
“Well,” cried Dinny, “how can I tell ye till I know? Why, it’s my belief, Dick, me lad, that they don’t know themselves.”
“Where do you mean to go, Abel?” said Jack at last.
“Go, my lass—my lad!” he said, correcting himself. “Anywhere. We can’t touch port, but we’ve got a tidy little vessel, not too big to manage, and we must sail somewhere to be safe.”
“Well, I don’t care,” came from forward, as Dick raised his voice in stubborn reiteration with Dinny. “I says it’s piracy, and if they’re ketched, they’ll all be hanged.”
A dead silence fell upon the little group, and at last it was Bart who spoke, as if to himself.
“If you helps yourself to a bit o’ anything that comes ashore, they says it’s wrecking; and if you want a drop o’ brandy or a bit o’ lace from a furrin boat, it’s smuggling; and now, if a man wants to get away, and fights for his liberty, he’s a pirate.”
“For seizing a vessel, Bart,” said Jack.
“Yes, lad, I know. Well, they may call me what they like. Here we are, and we’ve got to live.”
“Where d’ye think they’ll sail?” said Dick again, raising his voice, but in ignorance that the words could reach the group by the tiller.
“Where shall we sail?” said Jack, who was steering. “I don’t know, for all before us seems black; but I’ve saved my brother and his true old friend, so let fate guide us: the world is very wide.”
“Yes, Dinny, I don’t mind for a change; but it’s piracy, and I hope as we sha’n’t all be hung.”
“The same to you,” said Dinny, giving the sailor’s shoulder a sounding slap.
“Piracy!” said Jack, softly, as the boat glided on. “Well, it was not our choice, and, at all events, we’re free.”