Here, Captain Jem whispered to me that there might be more in this scene than met the eye, and that we should do well to secure the strange pilot who crowed so smugly. I assenting, the captain tipped the wink to half a dozen of the crew, who thereupon advanced towards the little man. But he was sharper than we, for, observing what we intended, he made but two jumps, one upon the bulwark, and the other into the canoe below, the bottom of which I thought would be driven out by his weight; but not a bit of it—the little bark-built skiff gave a great surge, and then floated tranquilly a couple of fathoms from the side.
‘Call you that seamen’s hospitality?’ says the little man, grinning.
Captain Jem flew into a great rage. ‘Get your muskets, men,’ he cried; but directly after, controlling himself, he directed us to give chase in the shallop, and bring back the pilot by force. Anticipating this order, I leaped into the boat, and calling out for four young men, who were the best rowers and the most muscular and long-winded fellows in the schooner, they jumped into the shallop with great glee, just as the dwarf, thinking he might as well have a start, dipped his paddle into the water and glided away. We were soon in chase, straining at the oars with right good will, and sending the shallop dancing at a great rate through the sea. Meantime our shipmates on board the schooner mounted into the rigging that they might observe the race the better, and encouraged us with abundance of cheers and exhortations not to spare our muscles. We brought the boat gradually to its full speed, the canoe being then only a dozen or so fathoms a-head. The dwarf was kneeling in the bottom of his craft, striking the water alternately on either side with the broad double blades of his paddle. Of course he had his back towards us, but he went, as the Spaniards phrase it, ‘with his beard upon his shoulder,’ that is to say, constantly looking back, with a provoking grin upon his face. We soon found that if we caught the gentleman at all, it would not be until after a hot chase and a long one. But we gave a shout and buckled to our work in good earnest. Meantime, the dwarf seemed to keep ahead almost without an effort—his light vessel skimming the very surface, while our heavier shallop was driving the sea into tiny ridges of foam, and leaving a wake of dancing agitated water. So, encouraging my men to pull long and strong, and steady strokes, we flew at a great rate through the intricacies of the shoal, speedily leaving the schooner far behind. It must have been a brave sight for a spectator to see—the light canoe, with its strange rower, spinning along, followed through all its windings and doublings by the shallop, impelled by cracking oars and straining muscles. Now and then we would cross bays and creeks only partially sheltered from the swing of the sea, the canoe jumping as it were, over the broken and sweltering waves, like a cork upon the parchment of a beaten drum, while the shallop would plunge, and jerk, and thrash, amid the cross surges, taking them on board over the larboard and starboard gunwales at once. Still, I think we would have caught the dwarf, nervous as was his arm, and swift as was his boat, had it not been for the rapidity with which he could wheel her round and round, following the crooked channels, and threading the narrow and intricate passages of the shoal, while he managed all the time to keep the canoe at great speed. Of course our boat was not so handy. Our utmost endeavours would not always suffice to keep her clear of a spit of sand, or to alter her course in time to avail ourselves of a shortcut into which the canoe would suddenly diverge. At length, my men began to show symptoms of distress; they panted at their toil, and, looking over their shoulders, began to murmur that there was no use in chasing the devil. All this while, the pilot had never ceased his impudent grin, and he seemed to be as fresh as when he had started from the side of the schooner. At length, we found ourselves in a pretty long open passage, with impassable barriers of reefs on either hand. The canoe was not more than a few fathoms ahead, for as we had flagged in our efforts, so had the dwarf relaxed in his. I thought that now was the time for a grand push, and shouting to the men that the game was in our hands, the brave fellows made a great rally—the ashen staves of the oars cracked, the water buzzed and foamed, and in a moment the boats were not more than a few feet apart.
‘Huzza, we have him now!’ I shouted.
The men pulled like devils, the dwarf worked hard with his paddle; but nothing could keep before us in such a chaise—foot by foot, we overhauled the canoe.
‘Three strokes more, comrades, and he is ours.’ The men shouted, but the breath had hardly left their lips when—crack!—the bows of the shallop went smash upon a submerged spit of sand. The men were flung higgledy-piggledy, head over heels, sprawling into the bottom of the boat, while a couple of oars snapped like pistol shots. We had run upon a bar which crossed the passage, some six inches under water. The canoe, thanks to her light draught, had floated over it unhurt, and was now lying a few yards a-head—the abominable little dwarf grinning more furiously than ever.
‘If we had a musket in the boat, you should laugh on the wrong side of your mouth,’ I shouted, gathering myself up and wiping my nose, which was bleeding famously. One of our men caught up a broken shaft of oar and hurled it at the canoe. The little man, who was as quick as light in his movements, parried the missile with the broad blade of his paddle, and called out—
‘Ho! ho! pretty fellows to think of taking a ship out to sea without a pilot, when they can’t row a boat without running their noses against a post.’
The answer to this was a simultaneous salute from all the fragments of the broken oars, one of which, despite his adroitness, gave the little man a very tolerable thwack across the shoulders, upon which, not choosing to risk the consequences of another broadside, the dwarf called out—
‘Good night; you had better pull to the schooner if you don’t want to sleep among the noddies and the boobies. Ho! ho!—good night.’