Chapter Twenty Five.

I end my career as a privateersman.

For fully an hour the galley dallied with the tempting bait that I had thrown out, now edging down towards us for a few minutes, and anon hauling her wind again, her commander apparently suspecting some ruse on our part. But at length our seemingly single-hearted anxiety to place as much water as possible between ourselves and him, together with the fact that both vessels were perceptibly increasing their distance from him—the galleon fairly rapidly, the schooner much less so,—got the better of his prudence; and, suddenly putting up his helm, he came booming along down to leeward, wing and wing, steering a course that, as I had expected, would soon carry him alongside the Señora.

The moment that it became apparent that he was in earnest I sent my scanty crew to quarters, the long thirty-two was cleared away and loaded, and all hands stood by to haul inboard again the sail that had hitherto served so efficiently as a drag. But, beyond this preparation, no other change was made, the schooner still adhering to her course, as though only anxious to escape from so formidable an adversary.

About half an hour after bearing up, by which time the galley had neared us to within about a mile and a half, she fired a shotted gun in the direction of the galleon, and hoisted her colours. Saunders, to whom I had communicated my intentions, took no notice whatever of this; nor did we. The shot fell a long way short, and was of course merely intended as a hint for the galleon to heave-to. Another quarter of an hour brought the galley down abreast of us, and about a mile distant, but she took no notice whatever of us, her object evidently being to recapture the galleon first, and so secure—as they would suppose—the treasure that had been embarked aboard her; after which her commander would doubtless have a word to say to the schooner which had so audaciously presumed to appropriate, even temporarily, the gold of His Most Catholic Majesty the King of Spain. As the galley swept past us I observed, with keen satisfaction, that she was not going much over eight knots; and I estimated that, when we should have got rid of our drag, we should be fully a knot and a half better than she was. Of course it would be in her power to rig out her sweeps to increase her speed; but I considered that, with the breeze that was then blowing, they would be practically useless except when going directly head to wind; and what I had to do was so to manoeuvre the schooner as to cut off her escape in that direction. What I was chiefly afraid of was that the consorts of the galley—for I was confident that she had consorts somewhere or other—were close enough at hand to hear the sound of firing; and to make certain upon this point I shinned up to the royal-yard and had a good look round, and I was greatly relieved to find that there was nothing in sight.

I allowed her to get about a mile to leeward of us, and then, instead of hauling our drag inboard, as I had at first intended, we cut it adrift and let it go altogether, at the same time jibbing over our main-boom and giving chase to the galley. For a space of perhaps ten minutes no perceptible notice was taken, by those on board the galley, of our change of tactics; but by the end of that time our sudden and—to the Spaniards—unaccountable improvement in speed had become so marked that it could not fail to attract attention; and presently signs became observable that it was occasioning considerable uneasiness. The galley’s sweeps—forty in number—were suddenly rigged out, and she assumed the appearance of a gigantic centipede hurrying over the surface of the sea, her long oars rising and falling swiftly, with a gun-like flash of sunlight off their wet blades, as they churned the water into snow-white foam on each side of her.

But a very few minutes sufficed to prove the correctness of my judgment as to their uselessness under the present circumstances, a very distinct confusion of movement among the shining blades revealing—what I had foreseen—that her canvas was driving her too fast through the water for her oarsmen to keep pace with her. The confusion rapidly became more pronounced, until every individual oar-blade was rising and falling independently of all the others, while frequent pauses of movement, accompanied by a great splashing of water, revealed that the unhappy oarsmen were busily engaged in the unseamanlike operation of “catching crabs”. As a matter of fact, her sweeps were proving to be a hindrance rather than a help to her, and we began to overhaul her so fast that we were soon within point-blank range of her. Tom Hardy had assumed charge of our Long Tom, and he had gradually worked himself up into such an uncontrollable condition of fidgety impatience, running his eye along the sights and then glancing round at me, that it seemed cruel to keep him thus any longer on the tenter-hooks of suspense, and I, rather reluctantly, nodded permission to him to fire. The next instant the gun spoke out, the shock of its discharge jarring the schooner to her keel, and the shot flew high over the mast-heads of the galley and a little wide of her.

“I expected as much, Tom,” remarked I reprovingly. “You are far too much excited. Take it coolly, man; take it coolly. That galley must be effectually disabled, or she will give us the slip to windward and bring two or three more like herself after us, which I have no desire at all to see. And I have no desire to take her, for she would be worse than useless to us, she would be a really dangerous possession. Ah! I expected as much; down comes her canvas; she is going to try to dodge us and work out to windward in the wind’s eye! Never mind the gun just now; in with the stunsails, for your lives, or she will be too quick for us!”

What I feared and expected had come to pass. Our heavy shot had fairly frightened the people aboard the galley; they realised at last that a trick had been played upon them, and her commander’s great anxiety now evidently was to get as quickly as possible out of the trap that he had been decoyed into. And, with this object, he had suddenly lowered his sails and put his helm hard over, with the object of returning by the way that he had come. But we were to windward of the galley, and, our stunsails coming in with a run, we were able to haul close upon a wind almost as quickly as the galley, when—the latter now depending upon her oars alone—the schooner proved to be considerably the faster of the two, thus effectually cutting off our antagonist’s escape in that direction.

“Now, back to your gun, and load as quickly as you like!” exclaimed I; for I knew that a very critical moment was at hand for us; a moment that would decide whether it was the galley or ourselves that was to be victorious. And presently my anticipation became realised; the Spaniard, finding his escape cut off, again putting over his helm until the vessel swerved round with her long, keen bows pointing straight at us. Her commander intended to run us aboard—if he could—and, should he succeed, the schooner would either be sent to the bottom by the violence of the shock, or we should fall into the hands of the Spaniards, to endure, in all probability, a fate even more horrible than that from which Hoard had escaped.

Straight as an arrow for us came the galley, her two masts keeping steadily in one as her helmsman relentlessly followed the schooner’s movement through the water, while the long oar-blades now rose and fell quickly in perfect time, urging the long, snake-like hull toward us at a speed of fully seven knots. Tom Hardy mopped the perspiration of excitement from his brow with a bright red handkerchief as he muttered anathemas upon his previous ill-luck, but I saw that he had pulled himself together, for his hand was as steady as yours is at this moment as he gently waved it in direction of those who were training the gun.

“Now, Tom,” said I, when he had reported all ready, “this shot must go home, mind; there must be no missing this time! So take it coolly; let her approach us to within a hundred fathoms before you think of firing—I will give you the word—and then let her have it as soon as you are certain of your aim.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Tom. “I’ll have her this time or you may call me a sojer. Give the word, sir, whenever you like.”

“There is no hurry, Tom,” said I. “Keep her covered for another three minutes, and then you may do as you like. And you, my man,” I continued, turning to the helmsman, “steer small for the next few minutes, and give Tom a chance.”

“Ay, ay, sir; ‘steer small’ it is!” answered the man.

“They’re at work upon that gun of theirs, sir,” reported Hardy at this moment. “Shall I fire and stop ’em, sir?”

“Yes,” said I; “she will do now. But don’t fire until you are absolutely certain of her.”

The galley was now within about a hundred and fifty fathoms of us, coming on at a tremendous pace, the water leaping and foaming and glancing about her bows, and her long length still pointed obstinately at us. There was a brass gun mounted upon her forecastle, the rays of the sun flashing off it as though it had been made of gold; and about this gun some seven or eight figures could be distinctly seen busily moving; while aft upon her poop were grouped four men in brilliant uniforms and with their swords drawn. And beyond her forecastle, grouped along either rail, could be just made out the heads and the flashing weapons of a strong body of boarders, ready to spring in upon our decks at the instant when the two hulls should come together. Despite the anxiety and suspense of the moment I could not help remarking to myself that, if they intended to carry us by boarding, the commander of the galley was conning his craft in a very lubberly, unseamanlike way.

As the thought passed through my brain there was a bright flash, a stunning report, and a jarring of the whole frame of the schooner as our long gun again spoke out; and, so instantly following the report that it seemed to be almost a part of it, I distinctly heard a crash, immediately followed by a dreadful outcry of screams and yells and groans of mortal anguish, seeming all to start at the same instant out of a hundred throats. Our shot had evidently gone home, and it had as evidently told severely; but exactly how much damage it had done could not be guessed at for the moment until our smoke had blown away to leeward of the galley. And ere it had done this there came a flash and a report from her, and the next instant I was aware of a shot that came humming so closely past my head that the wind of it actually blew my cap off and all but overboard. I stooped, picked it up, and replaced it on my head.

As I again turned my gaze to leeward, there was the galley, with a clean, neat shot-hole in her starboard bow, so close to the water-line that the furrow ploughed up by her rush through the water was flashing and leaping right over it; and—what was of at least equal importance to us just then—both banks of oars were trailing limp and motionless, as if suddenly paralysed, in the water alongside of her. And paralysed they certainly were, for the moment at least, because our thirty-two-pound shot had evidently raked the oarsmen’s benches from end to end of the ship. Her way immediately began to slacken; and although I saw an officer dash aft and with his own hands jam the helm hard over to lay us aboard, her movements became so sluggish that we had no difficulty in avoiding her, she being fully ten fathoms distant when she went drifting slowly across our stern. As she did so, a heavy, confused volley of musketry was poured into us from the boarders that lined her gunwale, but although the bullets flew past us like hail, not one of us was touched; and immediately afterwards a loud outcry arose aboard the galley, upon which every man at once threw down his arms and jumped below.

“Ready about!” shouted I. “And you, Tom, load again, and stand by to give her another shot as we cross her bows. We must not leave her now until we have rendered it impossible for her to get up to windward again and tell of our whereabouts, and that of the galleon. If you could contrive to smash a good number of her oars with a raking shot it would be better even than hulling her; for, after all, it would be a terrible thing to destroy so much life. She must have at least two hundred and fifty people aboard her.”

“Ay; all that—or more, sir. It’ll take at least four men to handle one of them long, heavy sweeps, the way that they was handled just now. But, as to smashing of ’em, I don’t know as I can do it; a man would have to be a very tidy shot to hit more’n one or two of ’em. But I’ll do my best, sir; and no man can’t do no more.”

The schooner’s helm was put down, and she was hove round upon the opposite tack, and at once kept away for the galley, which had by this time fallen broadside-on to the sea, her oars still remaining motionless. We steered a little to leeward of her, with the intention of luffing into the wind athwart her stern and throwing our topsail aback, so giving Hardy time to level and point his thirty-two-pounder; and we had gained our position and were in the act of backing our topsail, when the officer of whom I have already spoken reappeared upon the poop and, hastily hauling down the galley’s colours, hailed in very fair English:

“We surrender, señor; we surrender! In the name of the Blessed Virgin I pray you not to fire again! The galley is in a sinking condition; and unless we can quickly stop the leak she will go down and drown us all. What is it you will that we shall do in the matter?”

“Where is the leak situated?” demanded I.

“In the bow, señor; so close to the water-line that the sea is pouring into the vessel like a river,” was the answer.

“Then,” said I, “you had better cut both your sails adrift and fother them over the leak; after which your only chance of safety will be to make for the nearest port—which I take to be Porto Bello. I will stand by you until you have choked the leak; but I can do no more for you, as my carpenter is aboard the galleon; and moreover he does not understand Spanish, and therefore could not direct your people.”

“A thousand thanks, señor,” answered the Spaniard, bowing low to me. “I will follow your instructions, and am in hopes that, by adopting the plan you have suggested, we may be able to reach the land.”

Then, with another bow to me, which I duly returned, he disappeared; and a moment later I heard him shouting some orders to his people, some twenty or thirty of whom at once sprang on deck and began to cut the lateen sails away from the long, tapering yards. Meanwhile, I could now see that the galley was gradually filling, as she was perceptibly deeper in the water than when we had first encountered her; and thinking it possible that I might be of use, I ordered our people to launch the dinghy, in which, with one hand, I went under the bows of the galley. The shot-hole which was the cause of all the mischief was now completely under water more than half the time, showing only when the bows of the vessel lifted over a swell. I saw that they had plugged it with canvas from the inside, and the officer informed me that two men were engaged in holding the canvas in place against the pressure of the water, while the rest of the crew were, as I could see, engaged in baling. I thought I could see my way to improve matters a little; so I directed the officer to launch his gun overboard, to lift the bows a little, and to shift all his movable weight as far aft as possible. I then returned to the schooner, and procured a thin sheet of lead, a dozen nails, and a hammer, and with these I contrived, with some difficulty, to pretty well stop the leak, although I was careful not to stop it too effectually, lest the officer should decide to take the risk of making his way to windward instead of to the nearest land. But I do not think I had any real ground for apprehension, for I could see that the poor fellow was thoroughly frightened; and when I had patched up the hole, and had told him that there would be no need to use the sails, save to help him to reach Porto Bello as quickly as possible, he was overpoweringly profuse in his expressions of gratitude for my help and what he was pleased to term my “generosity.”

It was drawing well on toward noon when at length the galley was once more in a condition to get under weigh, which she did forthwith, heading to the southward under oars and sails; and inexpressibly thankful was I to see the last of her, and still more so to think that I had contrived to get rid of her without sending her and all her company to the bottom. Before parting I contrived to elicit from her commander that two of his consorts had proceeded to search for us in the Gulf of Darien, while three more had made the best of their way to Point Gallinas, to intercept us there in the event of our trying to make our way to the eastward.

Having thus successfully shaken off our formidable foe, I crowded sail upon the schooner in pursuit of the galleon—which all this while had, in pursuance of my orders, been running off the wind to leeward,—and when at length we overtook her, the galley had long vanished in the south-eastern board. We consequently hauled up to the northward once more, and shaped a course for Jamaica, where,—not to make the story too long,—we arrived without further adventure on the fourth morning after our encounter with the galley.

As may be supposed, I lost no time in waiting upon my very good friend, the Admiral; whom I found up to the eyes in business in his office at Port Royal. Nevertheless, busy though he was, he gave orders for me to be admitted, and shook hands with me heartily as I presented myself.

“Good morning, Mr Bowen,” said he. “I won’t ask you to sit down, for I am so busy this morning that I positively don’t know which job to tackle first. I merely consented to see you in order that I might congratulate you—for I hear that you have brought in a prize of some sort, and a big lump of a craft she is, too,” casting his eyes toward her as she lay full in view of his office window. “Not the galleon, though, I suppose? No such luck—What? is it really so? Upon my honour, I very heartily congratulate you, my dear sir, I do indeed. And my ears are tingling to hear your story, which I am certain will be well worth listening to; but I haven’t the time for it just now. Come up to the Pen to dinner to-night, and tell it me then, will you? That’s right; sharp seven, mind! And now, good-bye until this evening, you lucky young dog!”

Upon leaving the Admiral, I proceeded up the harbour to Kingston in a boat manned by negroes. A large fleet of ships of all sizes occupied the anchorage abreast of the town; and as we drew nearer two vessels seemed to stand out from among the rest and challenge my recognition. I looked at them more intently. Surely I could not be mistaken!

“Cuffee, what are the names of those two vessels—the brigantine and the schooner—that are moored close together there?” demanded I of the captain of the boat.

“My name not Cuffee, sah; my name am Julius Caesar Mark Anthony Brown, sah! And dem two vessels am called respectably de Dolphin and de Tiger; bofe of dem privateers, sah,” was the boatman’s answer, given with great dignity and the utmost gravity.

“Thank you, Julius Caesar Mark Anthony Brown,” retorted I, with equal gravity. “Have the goodness to shove me alongside the Dolphin, will you?”

“Certainly, sah; wid de utmost pleasure, sah,” answered the negro, with a broad grin of delight at the unwonted receipt of his full cognomen. And in a few minutes we ranged up alongside the old familiar schooner, and I recognised many old familiar faces looking curiously down into the boat.

“By the living jingo if it ain’t Mr Bowen come back to life!” I heard one man say; and in a moment there was an eager rush to the gangway to meet me. The unexpected sight of so many well-known faces, most of them hailing from the same birthplace as myself, and all of them evidently glad to see me again, moved me strongly; and almost before I knew where I was I found myself on deck and heartily shaking hands all round. Then, as soon as the excitement had abated somewhat, I inquired for Captain Winter.

“He is ashore, Mr Bowen,” answered the mate, who had caught my name and evidently appeared to be familiar with it, although the man was a total stranger to me. “He went ashore directly after breakfast, and I don’t much expect to see him aboard again until pretty late in the afternoon. But I expect you’ll find him and Cap’n Comben either at Anderson’s store, or at Mammy Williamson’s hotel. Or, if you don’t find ’em, you’ll be sure to get news of ’em at one or the other of them two places.”

“Thank you,” said I; “I will look them up. But in case I should not find them, please say that I will call aboard again to-morrow morning about nine o’clock.”

So saying, I climbed down into Julius Caesar’s boat again, and ten minutes later was landed upon the wharf.

It was by this time drawing well on toward noon, or “second breakfast” time; so I shaped a course for Mammy Williamson’s in the first place; and there, sure enough, I came upon my old skipper and Comben, seated at table among a number of other ship-masters and a sprinkling of civilians. As I entered I heard my name mentioned by Winter, and thought I also caught the word “galleon.”

“Speak of an angel, Captain Winter, and—you know the rest,” said I, as I stepped up to him with outstretched hand.

In a moment every man had started to his feet, and I was surrounded—hemmed in—by an enthusiastic crowd, who, having somehow got wind of my lucky capture, were eager to congratulate me. Nothing would do but I must sit down and take breakfast with them and relate my adventure; and it was past two o’clock that day before any of us budged. For not only had I to tell the whole story of my doings from the day when I parted company in the Manilla, but I also had to hear Captain Winter’s story as well. The latter I shall not relate here, as it would require a whole volume to do justice to it; but for the gratification of the reader’s curiosity, I may say that the Dolphin and the Tiger, after a protracted fight, in which both suffered severely, succeeded in beating off the French frigate. Since then they had both been knocking about in the Atlantic, with only moderate success, making Barbados their head-quarters; hence they had heard nothing of me save in a letter received from Mr White, in which he stated that, up to the time of writing, no news had been received of the Manilla, and that he greatly feared she must have been lost or captured.

Having at length transacted the business that had taken me to Kingston, I returned to the schooner pretty late in the afternoon, Winter and Comben accompanying me to have a look at the galleon and the Sword Fish; and later on I returned with them to Kingston to keep my dinner appointment with the Admiral.

I found my host, as usual, with his table full of company, among them being the captain of the Triton frigate, and several other naval officers, all of whom were exceedingly civil to me, especially after I had related the particulars of the capture of the galleon. We spent a very pleasant evening; and when at length the guests rose to go, the Admiral whispered to me to remain as he had something to say to me. Accordingly, when all hands but myself had left, my host conducted me to what he called his “snuggery”, which was a comer of his spacious verandah inclosed with large glazed partitions, and fitted up as a smoking-room. His negro butler set out the table with glasses, decanters, a big crystal jug of sangaree, and a box of cigars, and left us.

As soon as we were alone and had made ourselves comfortable, the old gentleman turned to me, seemed to look me through and through for several seconds, so intently did he rivet his gaze upon me, and then he remarked:

“I dare say you are wondering what this important matter can be that has caused me to keep you behind in order that I may have an opportunity to talk it over with you. Well, my dear fellow, I am a poor hand at beating about the bush; if I have a thing to say, I like to say it outright; so tell me, now, has it ever occurred to you to wish that you were a king’s officer, instead of being merely a privateersman?”

“Upon my word, Sir Peter, that is a strange question indeed to ask,” said I; “but I do not mind confessing to you that I have over and over again regretted that circumstances did not permit me to enter His Majesty’s service. Not that I have any real cause to complain, for I suppose I may now call myself a fairly rich man, with the division of the galleon’s prize-money in prospect; much richer than I should have been by this time had I had an opportunity to enter the navy. At the same time I have been impressed over and over again with the honour and distinction attaching to His Most Gracious Majesty’s service, and which are wholly apart from any question of the length of a man’s purse; and it is impossible to shut one’s eyes to the fact that, if a man happens to be ambitious, there is no service where his ambition has more scope for gratification than in the British navy.”

“Precisely,” agreed the Admiral. “And do you happen to be ambitious?”

“Yes,” I answered frankly. “Every one of my successes, such as they have been, has been robbed of a very appreciable amount of its sweetness by the reflection of the far greater honour and glory that would have been mine had I happened to have been a wearer of the King’s uniform.”

“Then,” said the Admiral, “may I take it that, if an opportunity were to offer for you to enter the King’s service, you would accept it?”

“Undoubtedly you may, sir,” answered I excitedly, as the drift of the conversation suggested itself to me for the first time. Then, in a flash, I qualified my statement by adding: “Of course I mean if I could enter as a commissioned officer. As a warrant-officer I fear I should be quite out of place. I have had so much liberty, and have been, so to speak, my own master for so long—”

“That you think you would find the discipline irksome?” interrupted the Admiral. “My dear boy, I have no doubt you would, and nobody but a fool would ever think of spoiling a fine, dashing, young fellow like yourself by attempting any such transformation. As you say, you would be woefully out of place in such a position. You would be wasted. But upon your own quarter-deck, with a good crew of thoroughly disciplined men to back you up, and the authority of the King’s commission to give you confidence, you would soon make a name and a place for yourself. Now, you did a very important and valuable service to the State when you brought timely intelligence of the approach of the combined French and Spanish fleets to West Indian waters, and you did a still more important and valuable service in watching that fleet, and afterwards communicating with Lord Nelson. In recognition of those services, therefore, it affords me very great pleasure to offer you a commission as lieutenant in His Majesty’s navy. There it is, my boy,” producing a large official-looking document from his pocket; “and I sincerely hope that you will not only accept it, but that also, with such friendly help as I may be able to afford you, you will rapidly distinguish yourself and do credit to my penetration in selecting you for so unusual an honour.”

For the moment I was altogether too thoroughly overwhelmed to utter a word, which the old gentleman at once perceived, for he said hastily:

“There, there! no thanks, no thanks; I know exactly what you are struggling to say, and I will take it as said. You need not trouble to thank me in words. Let your deeds express your gratitude; and if you behave as well under the pennant as you have hitherto done under the merchant flag, I shall be more than satisfied. And I intend to give you every opportunity of distinguishing yourself and doing me credit. For it happens that the Triton’s boats captured a becalmed pirate schooner last week, and brought her in. The lieutenant who led the attack lost his life, poor fellow, in boarding, so that he has not to be considered; and I propose, therefore, to purchase the craft into the service and give you the command of her. She sails like a witch, I am told, and is a wonderfully powerful vessel, just the sort of craft to give a smart, young fellow like yourself every chance to race up the ratlines of promotion. So now, all that you have to do is to arrange somehow to be relieved of your present command as soon as possible, and then to step into your new berth.”

This I had no difficulty whatever in doing, thanks to the lucky chance of Captain Winter being in the same port. I slept at the Pen that night, my kind friend, the Admiral, insisting upon my so doing; and the next evening I found myself in a position to inform him that all arrangements had been made to relieve me of the command of the Sword Fish, and to take the galleon home to England. And within forty-eight hours of the receipt of my commission I had entered upon my new career, and had ceased to be a privateersman.

The End.