But Nicky and I, pointing to the cabin and drawing forth pistols, made them understand that they must go below and be silent, as they valued their lives. The boy slunk back directly, and the woman turned to a livid paleness, and, swooning away, would have fallen down the ladder, but we supported her and laid her on the cabin floor; then, directly running on deck, we shut down the hatch. All this hardly occupied a moment; and, seeing Le Picard and Blue Peter cutting the warps forward, we drew our knives, and, working with good will, soon severed the tough piles of hemp, aft, and the schooner was unmoored. We waited a moment with great impatience, to see if she would drift, but, remaining stationary, we ran up the jib, and slackened the brails of the mainsail, so as, without actually setting the sail, to expose a good breadth of canvas, but it hung idly; the sea breeze had not yet set in, or if it had it did not reach us in the depths of the creek. We therefore flung a long line into the lightest of the two boats alongside, and Blue Peter and Nicky leaping into it, pulled with all their strength for the elbow at which the creek tended seawards, and made the line fast to a tree there, while Le Picard and I hauled upon the warp, and soon saw that the schooner was obeying the impulse thus given to her, and slowly moving through the water. In a twinkling, our comrades leaped on board again, and added their strength to ours, all of us working with clenched teeth and breathless eagerness. Just then, turning to look at the wounded Spaniard, who was sprawling upon the deck, I felt a breath of cool air on my face, the jib-sheet rattled, the light canvas swelled out, and in a moment the mainsail moved out of its sleepy folds, and the warp upon which we were hauling slackened. The schooner felt the puff, and I ran aft and took the helm, steering her in close by the starboard shore, which, when we turned seawards, would be the weather side of the cove. The mingled trees and rocks seemed to glide away from us. I looked over the side, and saw the bubbles rippling in the transparent water; and as I lifted my head again, I started with delight to feel the first heaving of the schooner, as she began to meet the lazy swell. The elbow, or turn of the creek, was not more than the length of the schooner ahead of us, and my three comrades all ran to the bows to watch the depth of water, and shouted that we might graze the rocks. Therefore I ported my helm, so as to send the vessel close in, and just as we slowly opened the corner I put the tiller hard down, and being fortunately a very handy craft for steering, she gradually swung round, and we all uttered a shout together as we saw, at the end of a short rocky passage, the open sea, streaked with the white bars of breaking waves. But we were not out yet: almost immediately on rounding the point of the creek a gust of the sea breeze struck us on the starboard bows, making the jib rattle and flap like thunder, and directly the head of the schooner fell off towards the rocks on the leeward side. The Frenchman exclaimed that we must take to the boats after all, but Nicky answered him, “Yes—but only to carry a warp to the rocks at the mouth of the creek!” No sooner said than done. Another line was flung into the skiff, and Nicky and the Indian went with three strokes to the weather extremity of the creek. Here the surf was beating violently, coming with great lashing surges round the corner of the cliff, and causing the water to rise and fall more than a fathom with every undulation of the sea. Here was a jagged pinnacle of rock beaten by the waves, which every now and then burst right above it; over this the Indian with great dexterity cast a loose hitch of the line, while we on board, running to the schooner’s bows, hauled upon it as before. It was lucky for us that the sea-breeze only blew up the ravine in uncertain puffs, and that the place was full of counter-currents, and eddies of air, which first filled our sails one way and then another, as we heaved and rolled upon the broken swells which dashed from side to side of the channel. We worked at the warp like desperate men, as, indeed, we were. Every now and then a sudden toss of the water would fling us back; but then the counter reflection of the seas from the opposite wall of rock would jerk us forward, and we soon found that we were gradually making our way towards the mouth of the cove, keeping so close to the weather side, that every now and then the masts, when flung over to starboard, rattled among the bushes overhead, and sent down showers of leaves, which would fly in uncertain whirls and dives amongst the rigging. At last, the decisive moment came. In a minute we would be hove upon the leeward entrance of the cove, or be out clear at sea. I ran again to take the helm. Le Picard and the Indian, running to the weather fore-chains, gave a last surge upon the line by way of a launch. The schooner’s head plunged into the trough of the sea, not a fathom from the rocks, and as she rose—her bows drew beyond the shelter of the cove—the full blast of the sea-breeze caught her jib—and her head swung gain to leeward.
‘Help her with the foresail, comrades!’ I shouted. They had anticipated me—the Indian letting go the brails, and then helping the whites to draw aft the sheet. The sail surged and flapped so as to shake the schooner to her very keel, and the great sheet-block jerked madly to and fro with bounds which would have dashed through a strong wall. But still, though they could not yet master the canvas, the schooner was not insensible to its lifting power, and I felt her, as she rose with her broadside to a great clear sea, gather way, and start as it were from under me. There was just a moment of terrible suspense. The masts bent to leeward until their trucks were within a couple of fathoms of the lee promontory. You could almost leap on the great rough masses of wet stone, which lay close abeam, and then in a moment the schooner rose to another sea, all three sails now bellying to the wind, and once more hove clear of the land, although I saw through the clear water a glimpse of reef under our counter, which the keel must have scraped, and although the head of the mainmast actually tore away the projecting branch of a great prickly bush which was waving and dancing in the wind.
We were drawing our first deep breath after our peril when I heard a great shout above me, and starting round, I saw between me and the sky the figure of a man standing with a gun upon the very verge of the precipice which formed the line of coast. He directly fired his piece, and set up a loud outcry to his comrades, three or four of whom directly joined him, and fired a volley at us which did no damage. So we jumped up on the taffrail rail, and waving our hats, gave them a loud cheer, and told them that if they wanted their schooner, they might swim after us, and then we would consider the matter. They made violent gestures, but the sea-breeze blowing so freshly, carried back their voices, and we knew not what they said. Carrying on as we best could with our ill-set sails, until we had made a good half mile offing, we luffed the schooner up into the wind, and with some trouble, got the canvas properly extended; then pulling the helm hard down, we got the jib-sheet to windward, and so lay to, dancing and surging merrily upon the sea.
And now we shook hands again, and embraced each other cordially. Here we stood on the deck of a fine schooner—our own by lawful capture from our enemies—and we thought of the surprise we would give our comrades in the bay. But the first thing to be settled was the fate of our prisoners, and we determined very unanimously that they must be put on board one of the boats, and left to find their way to the shore, Nicky only stipulating that if the lady should take a fancy to him, she should be allowed to remain on board. With some laughing at this proposition, we opened the cabin door, and called to our captives to come on deck, which they did, pale and trembling, for they seemed to expect no less than instant death. Nicky would be gallant to the lady, and to that end made her profound salutes, and spoke some gibberish, which he said was very good Spanish, for an expression of his admiration of her charms; but she never ceased crying out for ‘her husband—her husband,’ and begging, in the name of all the saints, to be put ashore. The boy, being more collected, managed to inform us—I, with my scanty knowledge of Spanish forming but a poor interpreter—that the schooner was called Nostra Senora del Carmine—that she had come to catch tortoise and to hunt wild cattle along the coast, it being the opinion of the citizens of Havannah, to which she belonged, that the late expedition had routed out all the privateersmen and hunters on the northern shore of Hispaniola. We then directed our attention to the man who had been acting as cook, and who, having partially recovered from his blow, was sitting up and looking very scared and foolish. However, his wits—if he had any—were still abroad, and we could not make him understand any of our questions; only when he was shown the boat with a couple of oars, and we pointed to the shore, and made as though we would push him over the side, he comprehended fast enough, and presently he and the boy got into the skiff belonging to the ship, and the lady, who had somewhat recovered her spirits, followed them, taking some clothing with her, and hiding her face as much as she could in a black veil. Although the sea was rough, they had a good boat and a favourable breeze, and we did not stand on our way until we saw them fairly into the shelter of the cove. Then we shifted the helm, let go the weather jib-sheet, and so began to plough our way to the eastward against wind and sea.
CHAPTER X.
THEY RETURN WITH THE PRIZE TO THE MARMOUSETTES, AND
NICKY HAMSTRING SHORTLY RELATES HIS HISTORY.
The wind blowing steady, the ship was easy to manage, so we speedily set to rummage our prize. Going into the hold, we found that she had little aboard save some campeachy-wood and some cocoa-nuts, and a couple of old brass guns, of about six pounds calibre, which seemed to have been put there for ballast. In the cabin was a good store of powder and lead for casting bullets, which was exceedingly valuable to us, and several long-barrelled muskets in good condition. The best part of the prize, however, was her storeroom, as it contained a great quantity of rope, canvas, and other things appertaining to the use of a ship. We also found a tool chest and a medicine chest, both of which were very welcome to us. In navigating the schooner, we, of course, divided ourselves into two watches—the larboard and the starboard watch, Nicky and I having the one, and Le Picard and the Indian the other. We also reefed our sails so as to have the ship snugger, and the better prepared for squalls should any happen. We made good progress that night when the land-breeze blew, and hoped next day, by evening, to observe the headlands of the Marmousettes. Catching sight, however, soon after sunrise, of a sail close in shore, and not wishing, in our weak condition, to be overhauled, we stood away directly to sea, so that, by noon, only the blue mountain ridges of Hispaniola were visible. In the afternoon we put about ship, and made again for the land. This long stretch caused us to lose much time, so that we had another night’s navigation before us ere we could work up to our bay. Nicky and I had the mid-watch. It was a glorious night. We were running five or six knots, with the cool land-breeze sighing in our sails. The heaven was one vault of stars, and, lying on deck wrapped up in folds of old canvas, while Nicky held the tiller beside me, I fixed my gaze upon the Southern Cross, that beautiful cluster of stars which shines only in the tropics, and which, appearing in the solemn and thoughtful night, always caused me to feel that I was in a strange part of the world, even more than the curious animals, and plants, and men, which one sees daily and ordinarily about one, when abroad. And yet, beautiful as the constellation was, methought it had less charms than the Plough, and the bright belt of Orion circling about the polar star, which I used to gaze upon in the long night-watches at home. As I thought of these, I thought of the old fisher-boat tossing upon the wild bay of St. Andrew’s, or lying stilly at her grapnel in the mouth of the Balwearie burn, while my mother and I sat with our palms mending nets upon the sand-hill in the sun. I think I would have been a great day-dreamer had I not led such a stirring life as kept my muscles busier than my brain; but on these quiet clear nights, aboard ship, when all was still, save the steady murmur of the wind, and the monotonous plunge of the vessel, as she breasted the ever-rolling seas—in these nights there is a witchery upon me, and I love to let my fancy carry me away, and surround me with old faces and old times. So now, being in this mood, I dreamed and dreamed with my eyes open, persuading myself that I was on board the Jean Livingstone again, and that we were jogging along the rocky coast of Forfar, until I actually started up, and looking at the shore to windward, thought that I could discover in the shimmer of the moon the tall white rock we called the Lady of Arbroath.
‘Nicky,’ says I, being in this mood, ‘do you ever think of home?’
‘That do I,’ he responded, ‘and hug myself that I am not there.’
‘But is there no old place,’ quoth I—‘no old face you would wish to look on again?’