Chapter Eleven.
A successful boat expedition.
That same evening we made the land from the mast-head just before sunset, and four hours later came to an anchor off the mouth of a river, the bar of which had too little water on it to permit of the passage of the Shark. Our visit to this spot was the result of certain information which the skipper had acquired a few days previously from the master of a palm-oil trader hailing from Liverpool, upon the strength of which he rather hoped to be able to take by surprise an especially notorious slaver which had long eluded our cruisers, but which was now stated, upon fairly reliable authority, to be somewhere on the coast, and was believed to have entered this particular river.
The canvas having been snugly furled, the boats, under the command of the first lieutenant, the master, the boatswain, and the gunner, were manned, armed, and dispatched into the river, the whole expedition being, of course, under the command of Mr Seaton, in whose boat went Peter Christy, one of the midshipmen, while young Keene, another midshipman, contrived to smuggle himself down into the master’s boat. Of course I applied for leave to go with the expedition, but, being on the sick list, was peremptorily forbidden even to dream of such a thing, for Morgan, our surgeon, declared that in my run-down condition I was utterly unfit to face the risks of exposure to the fever-laden fog which would certainly be encountered in the river. The night was not especially favourable for an expedition intended to take ships by surprise; for although the sky was somewhat cloudy, it was by no means sufficiently so to obscure very materially the light of the moon, which was then in her first quarter. But she would set shortly after midnight, and meanwhile her light would facilitate the passage of the boats across the bar, after the accomplishment of which the plan was to endeavour to discover the position of the vessel that we were after—or, failing her, any other craft that might be in the river—and then ambush the boats until the moon had gone down. We gave the boats a cheer as they pulled away, and watched them until they vanished in the shadowy obscurity inshore; after which, as we expected to see nothing more of them until daylight, the watch was piped down, and going below I turned in. The night, however, was intensely hot, and the atmosphere of the midshipmen’s berth intolerably stuffy. I therefore slept but poorly, and was up and down, at intervals of about an hour, all through the night, listening for the sound of firing, and hoping that perchance the reflection of gun-flashes on the clouds might indicate that the boats had found their quarry. Once or twice, about three o’clock in the morning, some of us who, like myself, were on the qui vive, thought we caught the muffled sound of distant firing coming off to us on the damp night breeze, but the everlasting thunder of the surf on the sand a mile away was so loud that we might easily have been deceived. That something important, however, was happening ashore was evident, for about this time we saw the reflection of a brilliant glare in the sky which lasted nearly an hour, and then gradually died down.
At seven o’clock the next morning all our doubts were set at rest by the appearance of two craft—a slashing brig and a very smart-looking little schooner—coming out over the bar with the Shark’s boats in tow; and ten minutes later they rounded-to and anchored close to us. We now had an opportunity to take a good look at our prizes, and it needed no second glance to assure us that both were perfectly superb examples of the shipbuilder’s art. Long, low, and extraordinarily beamy, they carried spars big enough for craft of twice their tonnage, upon which they spread an area of canvas that made some of us stare in amazement, and which, combined with their exquisitely perfect lines, gave them a speed that enabled them to defy pursuit. The Doña Inez, as the brig was named, was a craft of three hundred and eighty-six tons register, and drew only ten feet of water aft; while the Francesca—the schooner,—on a tonnage of one hundred and twenty, drew only six feet. That they had been built for the express purpose of slave traffic was apparent at the first glance; and they were, moreover, completely fitted for that traffic, for they had slave-decks, and had manacles, meal, and water on board, but no slaves.
The report of Mr Seaton, the first lieutenant, who presently came aboard, was eminently satisfactory. The expedition had succeeded in locating the two ships on the previous night before the setting of the moon, and had then lain in ambush behind a point only some two cables lengths from their prey until about two o’clock the next morning, when, with muffled oars, they had pulled alongside the two craft simultaneously, boarded them without resistance, surprised and overpowered the anchor-watch, and secured the crews under hatches. This having been done, and prize crews having been placed in charge of both vessels, the remainder of the party, led by Mr Seaton, had landed and captured an extensive slave factory, the occupants of which were evidently preparing for the reception of a large coffle of slaves, and set fire to it, burning the whole place to the ground. And all this had been accomplished at the cost of only two men slightly-wounded. The expedition had thus been completely successful, for the Doña Inez was the craft the capture of which had been its especial object, while we had secured in addition a second prize and had destroyed a factory.
Immediately after breakfast the captain proceeded to make his arrangements with regard to the prizes. First of all, the crew of the Francesca, were transferred to the Doña Inez, and, with the crew of the latter vessel, safely confined in her hold; then the prize crews were strengthened; and, finally, the brig was placed under the command of Mr Fawcett. Then the captain sent for me.
“Mr Grenvile,” said he, “I am going to prove to you, by placing you in command of the Francesca, that the loss of the Dolores has in no wise shaken my confidence in you. I remember, of course, that you are on the sick list; but I have consulted the surgeon relative to my proposed arrangement, and he assures me that a few days at sea will be far better for your health than remaining on the coast aboard the Shark. Your duties will be easy, for I intend to send with you Jones and Simpson, the boatswain’s and carpenter’s mates, who were with you in the Dolores, and a rather stronger crew than you had in that craft. You may also have Mr Keene to keep you company. You will sail in company with the brig, which will be under the command of Mr Fawcett, and since I learn that both craft, contrary to the ordinary usage of slavers, are heavily armed, you are not likely to suffer molestation this time on your voyage to Sierra Leone.”
“Thank you, sir!” said I. “I am very much obliged to you for your continued confidence in me, which you shall find has not been misplaced; and, as to my health, I really think I shall get well quicker at sea than I should by remaining here on the coast. May I have San Domingo again as cabin steward, sir?”
“Why, yes, certainly, if you like, Mr Grenvile,” answered the captain good-naturedly. “The fellow is rather a good man, I believe, and he appears to have taken a particularly strong fancy to you. By the way, there is one thing that I omitted to mention, Mr Grenvile, and that is that you will have to be your own navigator should you and the brig by any chance part company, for Mr Freeman will accompany Mr Fawcett in the brig. But the master tells me that you are a very reliable navigator; you therefore ought not to have any difficulty upon that score. And now you had better run away and turn yourself over to your three-decker.”
I dived down into the midshipmen’s berth, and found my shipmate, Keene, there also, although really he ought to have been on deck.
“Pass the word for San Domingo,” said I to the sentry on duty outside. And as the man duly passed the word, I turned to Keene and said:
“Now, then, young man, hurry up and get your kit ready as fast as you please. You are to come with me in the Francesca.”
“No!” exclaimed the youth with incredulous delight. “You don’t really mean it, do you, Grenvile? You’re only having me on.”
“Indeed I am not,” answered I. “The skipper has just told me that I may have you. He thinks that a little real hard work in a small vessel will do you a lot of good, and there I fully agree with him,” I added grimly.
“Oh, hard work be hanged!” exclaimed the lad joyously. “I’m not afraid of hard work, as you very well know, Dick. And it will be simply glorious to get away from the taut discipline of the Shark for a little while, to say nothing of the possibility of another such adventure as your last. But a pirate won’t have it all his own way this time if he attempts to meddle with us, I can tell you, for the schooner mounts eight long nines, and carries a long eighteen on her forecastle. I say, Grenvile, can’t we manage to have a little cruise on our own account? The skipper would forgive us, I’m sure, if we were lucky enough to take in a prize or two.”
“Not to be thought of, my friend,” answered I severely. “We are to make the best of our way to Sierra Leone—the best of our way, do you understand? Besides, the brig and we are to sail in company; and Fawcett won’t stand any nonsense, even if I were disposed to listen to your suggestion.”
At this moment San Domingo came along. “You want me, Mr Grenvile?” he asked.
“Yes, San Domingo,” said I. “Get the kits of Mr Keene and myself ready, and also your own, as quickly as possible. We are all to go aboard the schooner.”
“Yes, massa, sartinly. I hab um ready in nex’ to no time,” answered the negro, with an expansive smile of joy irradiating his face. “P’rhaps we hab anoder adventure! Who can say?” he muttered to himself.
It was getting well on toward noon when, both prizes having been thoroughly overhauled, and such deficiencies as were discovered made good from the stores of the Shark, Mr Fawcett and I formally took over our own respective commands, and the three craft weighed and made sail in company.
I confess that I felt in exceedingly buoyant spirits, and the pain of my wounds was completely forgotten as, with young Keene beside me, I stumped fore and aft on the short quarter-deck of the schooner and keenly compared her behaviour with that of her bigger companions. The sea breeze was piping up strong, and there was enough sea running to render the advantage all in favour of the two brigs; yet, notwithstanding this, we were able to spare the Shark our topgallant-sail and still keep pace with her. But, good as was the schooner, the Doña Inez was better; so much better, indeed, that, in order to avoid running away from us, Fawcett was obliged not only to furl both topgallant-sails, but also to take a single reef in both topsails, while, even then, the brig persisted in creeping ahead, and had to be constantly checked by keeping the weather leaches of her topsails a-shiver. She was undoubtedly a wonderful craft, and doubtless Fawcett was extremely proud of her. I fear that poor Captain Bentinck felt somewhat disgusted at the indifferent figure that the Shark was cutting, compared with the other two craft, for he quite unexpectedly made the signal to part company, fired a gun, and went in stays preparatory to bearing away on a southerly course. A few minutes later San Domingo emerged from the companion with the news that luncheon was ready.
“Very well,” said I. Then to Simpson, who had charge of the deck: “Keep your eye on the commodore, Mr Simpson, and if he should signal, let me know. And, by the way, you might set the topgallant-sail; I think she will bear it.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” answered Simpson with a grin at the “Mr” which I had given him. “Away aloft there two hands and loose the to’ga’nt-sail. Cast off the clewlines and buntlines, and see all ready to sheet home and hoist away!”
Followed by Keene I dived through the companion, descended the ladder—which was in reality a staircase,—and entered the little vessel’s main cabin. This was the first time that either Keene or I had been below, and as we passed through the doorway giving access to the apartment, and looked round it, we began to understand the meaning of the negro’s ecstatic grin as he stood aside to permit us to enter. The cabin was a very roomy one for so small a vessel, being about fifteen feet long, and about the same width at the fore end, tapering away aft, of course, in accordance with the shape of the vessel. It was not, however, the size of the cabin so much that arrested our attention as the general effect of extreme elegance which the apartment presented. The man who was responsible for its fitting up must have been an individual of distinctly sybaritic tastes. To begin with, the lockers that ran fore and aft on either side were luxuriously soft and comfortable to sit upon, and were upholstered in rich crimson velvet, with thickly-padded backs of the same material, carried high enough to afford a soft cushion for the back of the head of the sitters to rest upon. They were wide enough to form a most comfortable couch, and were evidently intended to serve that purpose, for at each end they were furnished with a great pile of richly embroidered silken cushions. The lining of the cabin above these couches, or lockers, was of bird’s-eye maple, highly polished, and divided up into panels by pilasters of polished satinwood, the centre of each panel being occupied by a large circular port or scuttle of very thick, clear glass, set in a stout gun-metal double frame so arranged that the ports could be opened for the admission of air. Above these ports handsome rods of polished brass, with ornamented ends, were screwed to the panelling, and from these rods depended miniature curtains of crimson velvet, fringed with bullion, which could be drawn when necessary to exclude the too ardent rays of the sun. On one side of the door in the fore bulkhead stood a very handsome sideboard of polished satinwood, surmounted by a mirror in a massive gilt frame worked into the semblance of a ship’s cable, and on the other stood an equally handsome bookcase, well filled with—as we afterwards ascertained—beautifully bound books—romances, poems, and the like—in the Spanish language. The after bulkhead was adorned with a very fine trophy, in the form of a many-rayed star, composed of weapons, such as swords, pistols, daggers, and axes. The skylight was very large, occupying nearly half the area of that part of the deck which was over the cabin, and in the centre of it hung a large and exceedingly handsome lamp of solid silver, suspended by massive chains of the same metal, while one end of the skylight was occupied by a barometer hung in gimbals, and the other by a tell-tale compass. Such an elegant little apartment naturally demanded that all its appointments should correspond, and so they did, for the table—which we afterwards found to be made of solid walnut, polished to the brilliance of a mirror—was covered with an immaculate tablecloth of snowy damask, upon which glittered a table equipage of solid silver, cut glass, and dainty porcelain, with a handsome silver centrepiece filled with recently cut flowers, apparently gathered no later than the previous day in the flower-clad forest on the margin of the river which we had just left.
We gasped with amazement—as well we might—at the sight of this little interior, glowing and sparkling with its evidences of almost palatial luxury, and seated ourselves in silence, for words completely failed us, although it is not a very easy matter to reduce a British midshipman to a condition of speechless astonishment. Nor indeed did we long remain in that abnormal state, for, after gazing about him for a moment with open mouth and protruding eyes, Keene burst out with:
“Here, you, San Domingo, you black villain, don’t stand there grinning until the corners of your mouth reach back under your ears, but come forward and explain yourself. Where did you find all these things, eh?”
“Massa Keene,” protested the negro, “it not right dat young gentleum should call deir faithful servant a ‘black willain’ after him hab work hard to make um conf’ble and keep um bert’ tidy aboard dat dirty old Shark. Mos’ ungrateful to call black gentleum a willain after all dat I has done for you. You has hurt my feelin’s, sah!”
“Have I?” said Jack. “Well then, I’m sorry, San Domingo, and apologise most profoundly and profusely and perpetually and peremptorily and—all the other ‘pers’ and ‘pros’ that you can think of. Now, how is that for a salve to your wounded feelings, eh?”
“Dat all right, sah,” answered the black. “Quite proper dat one gentleum should ’polergize to anoder. I accep’s your ’polergy, sah, mos’ gratefully, and will say no more ’bout it. But it not pleasant, sah, for to be called ‘black willain’ after I hab take de trouble to do all dat”—waving his hand toward the table—“for de pleasure and satisfaction ob—”
I thought it time to interfere and put a stop to the negro’s garrulity; so I cut in with:
“Yes, that is all right, San Domingo; but Mr Keene has apologised most fully and handsomely, so we may now regard the incident as closed. At the same time I would remind you that you have not yet replied to Mr Keene’s question as to where you found all these gorgeous table appointments.”
“Yes, sah, dat quite true, Mistah Grenvile,” replied our sable attendant. “Well, sah, I find dem all in de steward’s pantry—where else? Ah, gentleum, dis is wery different from de appearance ob de table in de midshipmen’s berth aboard de Shark, eh? No tin cups and plates here, sah; no rusty old bread barge; no battered old coffeepot; no not’ing ob dat sort. And I t’ink, gentleum, dat if you is pleased wid de table ’pointments dat you will be equally so wid de grub dat I shall hab de honour to place before you. Dis luncheon is not’ing much, just a fresh-cut ham”—lifting a dish-cover—“and a cold boiled tongue”—lifting another. “But dere is fine white biscuit, such as you nebber see aboard de Shark, and on dat sideboard I hab a prime cheese—”
“Yes, everything is most excellent, San Domingo,” said I, again interrupting the fellow. “Now, Keene, what do you say? Will you have some ham, or some tongue, or a little of both?”
“Thanks!” answered Jack. “I will take a great deal of both if you don’t mind, for somehow I’ve managed to find an enormous appetite.”
Having finished our meal, we went on deck again. We found that during our absence below the breeze had moderated very considerably, to such an extent, indeed, that Simpson had just sent a hand aloft to loose the royal and main-topmast staysail, and another to cast loose the gaff-topsail. He was moved thereto, no doubt, by the fact that the brig, which had fallen somewhat astern of us, was also making sail. We had acquired the habit of regarding the Shark as a decidedly fast ship, but the manner in which the Doña Inez and our own little schooner slid through the water was a revelation to us all, especially when the wind fell quite light, as it did toward the close of the afternoon. Then, indeed, when our speed had dwindled to about four knots, and our canvas collapsed at every roll of the vessel for lack of wind to fill it, we were able to hold our own with the brig; while still later, when the wind had fallen so light that the horizon had become invisible and the oil-smooth surface of the ocean showed scarcely a wrinkle in its satin-smooth folds to indicate that there was still a faint movement of the atmosphere, we gradually drew ahead of our consort, at the rate of about half a knot per hour, and even contrived to retain command of our little barkie, and keep her head pointed the right way, when the brig had begun to box the compass.
It continued calm until shortly after midnight that night, when a faint breathing came creeping up to us from the eastward, to which we spread our studding-sails, and, an hour later, we were bowling merrily along at a speed of nine knots. The wind not only held through the night, but freshened with the sunrise, and throughout that day and the succeeding night our speed never fell below eleven knots, while for an hour or so, when it breezed up especially strong, our log showed that we were doing close upon fourteen.
With the dawn of the third day after we had parted company with the Shark we found ourselves about two miles distant from our consort, both vessels steering to the north-westward, with the wind well over our starboard quarter, and our starboard studding-sails set. The wind was blowing a moderate breeze, there was a long but very regular sea running, and we were doing ten knots very comfortably, the little Francesca, sliding over the long liquid hills and down into the broad valleys as easily and buoyantly as a sea gull. We in the schooner were showing every rag we could spread, but the brig had her royals stowed, in order that she might not run away from us.
At seven o’clock San Domingo entered my cabin with a cup of chocolate, informed me as to the state of the weather, the whereabouts of the brig, and so on, and intimated that it was time for me to turn out if I wished to indulge in my usual luxury of a salt-water bath under the head-pump. I accordingly tumbled out, and, going on deck, made my way forward along the heaving planks into the eyes of the little vessel. I was just about to place myself under the clear sparkling stream of salt-water that gushed from the spout of the pump when the sound of a loud snap overhead caused me to look aloft, and I saw that the royal halyard had parted, and that the yard was sagging down with its own weight, and the sail bellying out with the pressure of the wind in it. Jones, the acting boatswain, who had charge of the deck, instantly observed the trifling mishap, and shouted an order for the sail to be temporarily clewed up, and for a hand to go aloft and bend the halyard afresh. Meanwhile I proceeded to take my bath, and was giving myself a vigorous towelling afterwards, when the man who had gone aloft hailed the deck with the cry of:
“Sail ho! about two points before the starboard beam.”
“What does she look like?” demanded the boatswain.
“She’s a tidy-sized brigantine or schooner, sir, for I can see the head of her topgallant-sail and gaff-topsail. She’s steerin’ pretty much the same way as ourselves, by the look of her.”
“Very well, that’ll do. Look alive with that royal halyard there. We don’t want the commodore to signal, askin’ us how long we’re goin’ to take over the job.”
“I’ll have all ready to sway away in less than a minute, sir; it’s been rather a awk’ard job,” answered the man.
“Mr Jones,” I shouted, “be good enough to signal the commodore that there is a strange sail in the northern board, will you?”
“Ay, ay, sir!” answered Jones; and he dived below for the signal book, which was kept in the main cabin. A minute later we had temporarily hauled down our main-topmast staysail, to permit a clear view of our flags, and were busily exchanging signals with the brig. Meanwhile, having dried myself, I went below to dress.
Presently a heavy footstep sounded on the companion ladder and a bunch of horny knuckles rapped at my state-room door. “Come in,” I cried, and as the door opened Jones poked his head in.
“Commodore’s signalled us to haul our wind half a p’int, sir,” he reported.
“Very good, Mr Jones; have the goodness to do so,” I said, and the boatswain vanished.
Upon returning to the deck after the completion of my toilet I found that the brig had, like ourselves, hauled-up half a point, and set her royals, with the result that she was slightly increasing her distance from us. This change, slight though it was, in the course of the two vessels, caused the stranger and ourselves gradually to approach each other on lines that converged at a very acute angle, and I surmised that Fawcett had set his royals with the twofold object of increasing the speed of his approach toward the stranger, and of avoiding the awakening of any suspicion on the part of that stranger which the sight of a ship with her royals stowed in such moderate weather might be likely to arouse.
By midday we had raised the stranger sufficiently to enable us to see the whole of her royal and just the head of her topgallant-sail from the deck, while from our royal-yard the whole of her canvas was visible down to the top half of her foresail; we were therefore in a position to pronounce not only that she was a brigantine, but also that she was a slashing big craft, probably quite as big as the Doña Inez. As the afternoon wore on, however, we seemed to be raising her no higher, and I came at length to the conclusion that, like ourselves, she had slightly hauled her wind, thus manifesting a distinct if not very strongly marked desire to avoid any closer acquaintance with us, which, in its turn, went far to confirm me in a suspicion which had already arisen within my mind that she was a slaver, probably from the Bonny or the Gaboon, with a cargo of “black ivory” on board. All the afternoon I maintained a close watch upon the commodore, with the aid of the splendid telescope which we had found aboard the schooner, momentarily expecting him to make some signal which would indicate that he shared my suspicions; but none came, and at length it dawned upon me that he was purposely abstaining from holding any communication with me, lest by doing so he should strengthen any suspicion which the stranger might be entertaining as to our character. But I noticed that at eight bells in the afternoon watch he again altered his course, hauling up another point; and without receiving any signal from him I promptly did the same.
That we were gradually overhauling the chase was evident from the fact that we were slowly raising her, while she was unable to head-reach upon us; and at sunset we could see the foot of her topsail from the deck while she had not altered her bearing from us by so much as a quarter point since we had last hauled our wind. And if we in the Francesca were gaining upon her, the Doña Inez was doing so in a still more marked degree, that craft being, at the time last-mentioned, quite eight miles ahead of us, and about two points on our weather bow. The question now arose in my mind whether she would endeavour to dodge us during the night? She would find it exceedingly difficult to do so, for there was now a good moon in the sky, affording sufficient light to enable a man with keen eyes to keep a craft at her distance from us in sight without very much trouble; but, on the other hand, there was a very heavy mass of cloud banking up to windward and fast overspreading the sky. This would obscure the moon later, and perhaps for a time cut off enough of her light to give the stranger a chance, should he wish to avail himself of it. I therefore sent one of the keenest-sighted men I had with me up on the topsail-yard as soon as it began to grow dusk, with instructions to keep his eye on the stranger and immediately report to me should he happen to lose sight of her. For we knew, both from hearsay and experience, that the slavers were as wily as foxes, and were in the habit of adopting all sorts of queer expedients to evade pursuit. Not content, therefore, with sending a hand aloft to watch the stranger, I maintained an almost continuous watch upon her myself from the deck with the aid of the Francesca’s excellent telescope, which was both a day and a night glass.
Meanwhile the cloud bank continued steadily to overspread the heavens, and at length obscured the moon, shutting off so much of her light that it immediately became difficult in the extreme to discern the chase any longer, even with the assistance of the telescope; and I was not in the least surprised when, a minute or two later, the look-out aloft hailed to say that he had lost sight of her. But I had not; I could still see her through the glass, although with momentarily increasing difficulty as the pall of cloud crept onward across the sky, ever cutting off more and still more of the moon’s light; and at length the moment arrived when I also was compelled to admit to myself that I could no longer see her. I removed the telescope from my eye for a minute or two to give my strained and smarting eyeballs a rest, and closed my eyelids in order to completely exclude from them even such dim and uncertain light as still remained; then, knowing exactly where to look for the stranger, I once more pointed the instrument in that direction, searching the horizon closely and carefully for the smallest blur that might betray her. But the effort was useless; she had vanished.