Mrs. Cliff's Yacht

by Frank R. Stockton

Shirley was a brave man, but as he lay awake in his bunk that night, cold shivers ran down his back many times. If violence were offered to him, of course he could not make any defence, but he was resolved that if an attack should be made upon him, there was one thing he would try to do. He had carefully noted the location of the companion-ways, and he had taken off only such clothes as would interfere with swimming. If he were attacked, he would make a bolt for the upper deck, and then overboard. If the yacht should be near enough to hear or see him, he might have a chance. If not, he would prefer the ocean to the Dunkery Beacon and her crew.

But the night passed on, and he was not molested. He did not know, down there below decks, that all night the Summer Shelter kept so close to the Dunkery Beacon that the people in charge of the latter cursed and swore dreadfully at times when the yacht, looking bigger and blacker by night than she did by day, rose on the waves in their wake, so near that it seemed as if a sudden squall might drive the two vessels together.

But there was really no reason for any such fear. Burke had vowed he would stick to Shirley, and he also stuck to the wheel all night, with Burdette or the sailing-master by his side. And there was not an hour when somebody, either a mariner or a clergyman, did not scan the deck of the Dunkery Beacon with a marine glass.

Shirley was not allowed to go on deck until quite late the next morning, after Burke had given up his desperate attempt to communicate with the Dunkery Beacon; and when he did come up, and had assured himself at a glance that the Summer Shelter still hung upon the heels of the larger steamer, and had frantically waved his hat, the next thing he saw was the small Mediterranean steamer which was rapidly coming down from the north, while the Dunkery Beacon was steaming northeast. He also noticed that some men near him were running up a queer little flag or signal, colored irregularly red and yellow, and then he saw upon the approaching steamer a bit of bunting which seemed to resemble the one now floating from the Dunkery. Of course, under the circumstances, there was nothing for him to believe but that this approaching vessel was one of the pirate ships, and that she was coming down not to capture the Dunkery Beacon, but to join her.

Now matters were getting to be worse and worse, and as Shirley glanced over at the yacht,—still hovering on the weather quarter of the Dunkery, ready at any time to swoop down and hail her if there should be occasion,—he trembled for the fate of his friends. To be sure these two pirate vessels—for sure the Dunkery Beacon now belonged to that class—were nothing but merchantmen. There was no cannon on this steamer, and as the other was now near enough for him to see her decks as she rolled to windward, there was no reason to suppose that she carried guns. If these rascals wished to attack or capture a vessel, they must board her, but before they could do that they must catch her, and he knew well enough that there were few ordinary steamers which could overhaul the Summer Shelter. If it were not for his own most unfortunate position, the yacht could steam away in safety and leave these wretches to their own devices, but he did not believe that his old friend would desert him. More than that, there was no reason to suppose that the people on the Summer Shelter knew that the Dunkery Beacon was now manned by pirates, although it was likely that they would suspect the character of the new-comer.

But Shirley could only stand, and watch, and wait. Once he thought that it might be well for him to jump overboard and strike out to the yacht. If he should be seen by his friends—and this he believed would happen—and if he should be picked up, his report would turn back into safer waters this peaceful pleasure vessel, with its two ladies and its seven clergymen. If he should be struck by a ball in the back of the head before he got out of gunshot of the Dunkery's crew, then his friends would most likely see him sink, the reason for their remaining in the vicinity of these pirates would be at an end, and they might steam northward as fast as they pleased.

The strange vessel came on and on, and soon showed herself to be a steamer of about nine hundred tons, of a model with which Shirley was not familiar, and a great many men on board. The Dunkery Beacon lay to, and it was not long before this stranger had followed her example, and had lowered a boat. When three or four men from this boat had scrambled to the deck of the Dunkery Beacon, they were gladly welcomed by the black-headed fellow who had passed himself off as Captain Hagar, and a most animated conversation now took place. Shirley could not understand anything that was said, and he had sense enough not to appear to be trying to do so; but no one paid any attention to him, nor seemed to care whether he knew what was going on or not.

At first the manner of the speakers indicated that they were wildly congratulating each other, but very soon it was evident that the Summer Shelter was the subject of their discourse. They all looked over at the yacht, some of them even shook their fists at her, and although Shirley did not understand their language, he knew very well that curses, loud and savage, were pouring over the bulwarks in the direction of his friends and their yacht.

Then the subject of the conference changed. The fellows began to gaze northward, a glass was turned in that direction, the exclamations became more violent than before, and when Shirley turned, he saw for the first time the other vessel which was coming down from the north. This was now far away, but she was heading south, and it could not be long before she would arrive on the scene.

Now Shirley's heart sank about as far down as it would go. He had no doubt that this very vessel was another of the pirates. If she carried a gun, even if it were not a heavy one, he might as well bid good-bye to the Summer Shelter. The pirates would not allow her to go to any port to tell her tale.