Chapter Ten.
Some dozen men only of the pirates remained unhurt. They, with Jack and Sambo, were forthwith transferred to the frigate and placed in irons below. “I’m no pirate,” said Jack to the men who were handcuffing him. “Oh, no,” they answered with a laugh; “you looks like a lamb, and that ’ere craft there with the black flag flying is just an honest trader.” Poor fellow, he was begrimed with powder and smoke and blood, and looked very unattractive. He felt very wretched, for he saw no means of proving that he was innocent. His only comfort was that Sambo was near him. They could thus carry on a conversation in an undertone. Sambo had been so knocked about the world, and had been in so many strange positions, that he was not easily cast down. “Neber mind, Jack—something save us dis time too—we trust in God.”
The Lion frigate, which had captured the pirate, had been dispatched from the West India squadron expressly to look for him, and now shaped a course for Jamaica with her prize. From what Jack heard from the pirates and from the crew of the frigate, he had no doubt that all of them would be hung, as a warning to other evildoers. Uncomfortable as he was, he was in no hurry to have the voyage over. He did not like the prospect at its termination. He tried in vain to get the ear of some of the officers of the ship that he might tell his tale. There was no chaplain, or he would have spoken to him.
At length the frigate reached Jamaica, and Jack and his companions were transferred to the prison on shore. They were there constantly visited by a minister of the gospel, and Jack seized an early opportunity of telling him how he had come to be on board the pirate brig. The clergyman listened attentively to his tale, and cross-questioned both him and Sambo on the subject. He often spoke to them, losing no opportunity of turning their minds to eternal things. Still they were left in doubt whether or not he believed their story.
The day of the trial arrived; Jack and Sambo and the other prisoners were brought into the court of justice. The evidence against them was so clear that their counsel had little to plead in their defence. Jack simply repeated his story, describing how he and others, escaping from the burning Indiaman, had been picked up by the whaler, and afterwards wrecked on the coast of South America.
“I can corroborate one part of the story,” said a gentleman, rising in the court, “I was on board the Indiaman, and remember that young seaman and the black, who both at different times performed some service for me.”
“I felt sure, also, that they were innocent,” added the chaplain of the prison; “they were the only two of all the pirate crew who from the first knelt in prayer, and were resigned to the will of God, acknowledging his justice and goodness.”
“There’s no doubt about their innocence,” exclaimed a sunburnt, broad-shouldered man from the crowd, whom Jack recognised as his friend Mr Collins. “I was second officer of the Indiaman,” he continued; “I was wrecked in the whaler, carried off by the Indians, and have only just escaped from them, and found my way here.”
Still as Jack and Sambo had been found on board a pirate, and the frigate wanted hands, though their lives were spared, it was on condition that they should enter on board her. Three days afterwards the survivors of the pirate crew were seen swinging on gibbets,—a punishment they richly deserved.
This event having taken place, the Lion frigate put to sea. Jack soon found himself rated as an able seaman, and well able was he to do his duty, to hand and reef and steer with any man in the ship. No one would have recognised in the active, well-built, intelligent, sunburnt seaman the poor little spirit-cowed workhouse lad, who a few years before had left the shores of England.
After serving for some months on board the frigate, Sambo was raised to the dignity of ship’s cook, his chief qualification being his power of enduring heat. For a better reason Jack was made captain of the mizen-top, whence he might hopefully aspire to become captain of the maintop. War, which had only lately been concluded by a peace, again broke out, and the frigate was sent to cruise in search of an enemy. Jack’s heart beat high at the thought of meeting one. The last time he had stood at his gun in action, its muzzle was turned against the very ship on board which he now served, and he longed to show how he could fight in a rightful cause.
He had not long to wait. The frigate, having the island of Barbadoes some fifty leagues or so to the westward, caught sight of a stranger, her topsails just showing above the horizon to the eastward. Sail was made in chase, and as they rose her courses, she was pronounced to be an enemy’s cruiser of about equal force. The private signals were unanswered, and as soon as the ships got within range of each other’s guns the action commenced. As the wind was from the westward, the British frigate had the weather-gauge,—an advantage she kept,—and so well were her guns served, that it was soon evident the enemy were getting the worst of it. Still the enemy fought well, and many of the Lion’s crew lost the number of their mess. At length it was resolved to close, and carry her by boarding, for the night coming on it was feared she might escape in the dark. Jack buckled on his cutlass with no little glee, and, following the first lieutenant, as the ships’ sides touched each other, was one of the first on board the enemy. The decks were slippery with blood; oaths, and cries, and shrieks, and groans, and clashing of steel, and flashing and rattling of pistols, resounded on every side, interrupted by loud roars, as both ships continued to work their heavy guns as they could be brought to bear. Numbers were falling on both sides; but the intrepid courage of the English bore down all opposition, and the enemy being driven below or overboard at last cried out for quarter. It was granted, and their flag being hauled down, the well-won prize was taken possession of.
A violent south-westerly gale springing up soon afterwards, the frigate and her prize were driven so far to the north-east that the captain ordered a course to be shaped for England. There, in seven weeks or so, they arrived, and the ship being shortly afterwards paid off, Jack found himself in possession of no small amount of prize money.