Mrs. Cliff's Yacht

by Frank R. Stockton

The pirate leaders were amazed at the resistance they met with. They had not imagined that Captain Horn had so large a crew, or that it was a crew which would fight. But these pirates had their blood up, and not one of them had any thought of giving up their enterprise on account of this unexpected resistance. Dozens of them at a time sprang upon the rail of their own vessel, and, with cutlass or pistol in one hand, endeavored to scramble up the side of the Monterey; but although the few who succeeded in crossing her bulwarks soon fell beneath the blows and shots of her crew, the attack was vigorously kept up, especially by pistol shots.

Whenever there was a chance, a pirate hand would be raised above the rail of the Monterey and a revolver discharged upon her rail, and every few minutes there would be a rush to one point or another and a desperate fight upon the rail. The engines of both vessels had been stopped, and the screaming and roaring of the escaping steam gave additional horror to this fearful battle. Not a word could be heard from any one, no matter how loudly it might be shouted.

Whatever firearms were possessed by the men on the Monterey were used with good effect, but in this respect they were vastly inferior to the enemy. When they had fired their pistols and their guns, some of them had no more ammunition, and others had no opportunity to reload. The men of the Vittorio had firearms in abundance and pockets full of cartridges. Consequently it was not long before Captain Horn's men were obliged to rely upon their hatchets, their handspikes, their belaying-pins, and their numbers.

Banker was in a very furious state of mind. He had expected to board the Monterey without opposition, and now he had been fighting long and hard, and not a man of his crew was on board the other vessel. He had soon discovered that there were a great many men on board the Monterey, but he believed that the real reason for the so far successful resistance was the fact that Captain Horn commanded them.

Several times he mounted the upper deck of the Vittorio, and with a rifle in hand endeavored to get a chance to aim at the tall figure of which he now and then caught sight, and who he saw was directing everything that was going on. But every time he stood out with his rifle a pistol ball whizzed by him, and made him jump back. Whoever fired at him was not a good shot, but Banker did not wish to expose himself to any kind of a shot. Once he got a chance of taking aim at the Captain from behind the smokestack, but at that moment the Captain stepped back hurriedly out of view, as if somebody had been pulling him by the coat, and a ball rang against the funnel high above his own head. It was plain he was watched, and would not expose himself.

But that devil Horn must be killed, and he swore between his grinding teeth that he himself would do it. His men, many of them with bloody heads, were still fighting, swearing, climbing, and firing. None of them had been killed except those who had gained the deck of the other vessel, but Banker did not believe that they would be able to board the Monterey until its captain had been disposed of. If he could put a ball into that fellow, the fight would be over.

Banker now determined to lead a fresh attack instead of simply ordering one. If he could call to his men from the deck of the Monterey, they would follow him. The Vittorio lay so that her bow was somewhat forward of that of the Monterey, and as the rails at the bows of the two vessels were some distance apart, there was no fighting forward. The long boom of the fore-mast of the Vittorio stretched over her upper deck, and, crouching low, Banker cut all the lines which secured it. Then with a quick run he seized the long spar near its outer end, and thus swinging it out until it struck the shrouds, he found himself dangling over the forward deck of the Monterey, upon which he quickly dropped.

It so happened that the fight was now raging aft, and for a moment Banker stood alone looking about him. He believed his rapid transit through the air had not been noticed. He would not call upon his men to follow as he had intended. Without much fear of detection he would slip quietly behind the crew of the Monterey, and take a shot at Captain Horn the moment he laid eyes on him. Then he could shout out to his men to some purpose.

Banker moved on a few steps, not too cautiously, for he did not wish to provoke suspicion, when suddenly a hand was placed upon his chest. There was nobody in front of him, but there was the hand, and a very big one it was, and very black. Like a flash Banker turned, and beheld himself face to face with the man Mok, the same chimpanzee-like negro who had been his slave, and with whom in the streets of Paris he had once had a terrible struggle, which had resulted in his capture by the police and his imprisonment. Here was that same black devil again, his arms about him as if they had been chain-cables on a windlass.

Banker had two pistols, but he had put them in his pockets when he made his swing upon the boom, and he had not yet drawn them, and now his arms were held so tightly to his sides that he could not get at his weapons. There was no one near. Banker was wise enough not to call out or even to swear an oath, and Mok had apparently relapsed into the condition of the speechless savage beast. With a wrench which might have torn an ordinary limb from its socket, Banker freed his left arm, but a black hand had grasped it before he could reach his pistol.