Leaves from a middy's log

by Arthur Lee Knight

In a few minutes we were gliding up the lagoon, which seemed to teem with fish. I noticed that two or three cranes were standing in a watchful attitude in the shallows, and that kingfishers and several kinds of waterfowl were seeking the shelter of the mangrove-studded banks. Far above our heads soared a frigate pelican.

A rude pier, constructed of roughly-hewn logs of wood, now came into view, and the boat was steered directly for it. The steersman gave a loud and very peculiar shout, which echoed with weird effect among the trees, and seemed to die away in mocking laughter on the slopes of the more distant hills.

Two dark alert-looking figures almost immediately emerged from a grove of trees near the head of the pier, and gave a shrill answering shout, at the same time moving forward rapidly in the direction of the boat. It was now getting dusk, and I could not distinguish them clearly, as the triumphant glories of the sunset sky were fast fading in the western heavens.

Amid much jabbering and inane laughter on the part of the crew, we glided alongside the pier. I just had time to notice that one of the men who stood there to receive us was old, and wore a grey pointed beard, although his figure was erect and military-looking. The next instant, we were hustled out of the boat by our guards, and marched off without any delay towards the head of the pier. I had time to notice that four men remained in the boat, and that these fellows promptly pushed off into deep water, as if with the intention of pulling off to the brig again for a fresh consignment of passengers.

The two men who had awaited our advent at the pier accompanied us on our march, and I saw them look at us keenly, and heard them asking innumerable questions in a very surprised tone of voice, evidently pumping our captors as to our identity and nationality. Miguel was the one who principally took upon himself to answer these queries.

On quitting the rude pier we struck off by an upward gradient on a broad but roughly-constructed path leading through a grove of palm trees. The atmosphere here was hot and close, although the sun had set, and mosquitoes and other insects seemed to swarm in myriads and caused us much annoyance. The shades of evening were gathering fast, and the pirates stepped out briskly as if afraid of being benighted. They were, of course, well armed, and kept a watchful eye on us, having orders, no doubt, to shoot us dead should we make the slightest attempt to escape.

I fancied that both Mr. Triggs and my coxswain looked less anxious than they had done on board the brig. They were marching just in front of me, and now and again I caught a hasty glimpse of their faces.

To our great relief, we soon emerged from the palm-grove, and found ourselves on a small open savannah of natural turf. On the right hand it sloped away rather abruptly to a sheet of water which was either a long narrow lake, or the upper strip of the salt water lagoon that we had just quitted. Its dark waters were only visible here and there through vistas in the trees that studded the savannah, but I could see that they swarmed with waterfowl. I found myself wondering whether the pirates’ brig could be towed through the outlying cayos into the outer and deeper waters of the lagoon. As the island seemed to possess no harbour, the brig would otherwise have to remain in the open roadstead, and run the risk of being perceived by passing vessels.

The track we were following wound up over the upper slopes of the savannah, and had evidently been trodden by many feet from time to time. On our left hand, at the distance of about a hundred yards, was a belt of somewhat stunted jungle; and beyond the upper boundary was a precipitous escarpment of rocks and boulders, amidst which clumps of brushwood and tussocks of long coarse grass seemed to find soil enough to flourish in. Above these, again, were other gentle slopes, clothed with trees, terminating in a long, level, arid-looking ridge destitute of any vegetation, which was doubtless the backbone of the island.

As we toiled up over the savannah, we came upon the first signs of a human habitation which we had seen. This was a long low dwelling with mud walls, and a roof of the flimsiest description thatched with dried grass. Around the building were a few banana, bread-fruit, and guava trees; and in front was a large patch of cultivated ground containing yams and sweet potatoes, which was being lazily hoed by two sleek-looking and nearly nude negroes. In the doorway of the house a stout negress, arrayed in a flaring cotton dress, was seated, nursing a pickaninny, and singing softly to herself the refrain of some African cradle-song. I noticed the start of astonishment this black trio gave when their eyes fell upon us. The negroes ceased working, and leaning upon their hoes stared at us as if their great rolling black orbs were going to drop out of their sockets; and the negress, starting to her feet, and placing her baby in a sort of rude hammock, which was slung under a couple of fruit trees, waddled toward us with her arms akimbo, and her full-moon face expressive of the greatest astonishment.