The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War

by Gustave Aimard

The officers, justly alarmed, and not knowing what means to employ to bring these men back to their duty, collected round their Commandant, resolved to save themselves or perish with him. The old sailor was still apparently just as calm and stoical; nothing revealed on his stern face the agony that secretly crushed his heart. With his arms folded on his chest, his head erect, and a steady glance, he awaited the mutineers.

The latter soon invaded the after part of the vessel; but, after passing the mainmast, they stopped, through a remnant of that respect which is innate in sailors for their superiors. The quarterdeck is that portion of the deck which is exclusively reserved for the officers: the sailors, under no consideration, are allowed to tread it, except for the purpose of executing a manoeuvre.

On reaching the foot of the mainmast, then, the mutineers hesitated, for they no longer felt on their own ground, and at length stopped: for the mere fact of their invading this part of the deck constituted a grave infraction of naval discipline. We have said that they stopped; but they were like an angry sea which breaks against the foot of a dyke it cannot dash over; that is to say, yelling and gesticulating furiously, but yet without going an inch further. At the same time, however, they did not fall back.

But this hesitation and almost timid attitude of the mutineers did not at all suit the views of those who had urged them to insubordination. Collected in the rear of the sailors, they shouted and gesticulated louder than the rest, trying by all means to revive the fire which was already threatening to expire. The corvette's deck presented at this moment the most desolating, and yet at the same time imposing appearance. In the midst of the fragments piled up pell-mell on this fine ship so fatally decapitated by canister shot, these men, with their rude and fierce features, grouped in disorderly and menacing groups; and, scarce a few yards from them, a small band of calm and resolute officers, collected round the Commandant, who, standing on the quarterdeck, seemed to dominate over the men. Then, a little in the rear, Doña Mencia and the two American officers, apparently disinterested spectators of the events which chance compelled them to witness, but, in reality, following with anxious glance all the incidents of the drama that was being played before them. Assuredly a painter would have found a magnificent subject for a picture in the position of the different characters, and the expression that at times lit up their masculine faces.

And then, in the distance the lofty sails of the brig could be seen glistening, which was rapidly approaching, doubtless with the intention of coming, like the classic Deus ex machina, to unravel at the right time this situation, which every passing moment only tended to render the more complicated.

There was a momentary truce between the two parties, who, like practised duellists, had tried to discover their adversary's vulnerable point before crossing swords. A deep silence prevailed on the deck of this ship, where so many passions were fermenting in these hearts of bronze; no other sound was audible save the hollow and monotonous moaning of the sea, as it broke against the sides of the corvette, and the indistinct sound of weapons clutched by eager hands.

This hesitation had something sinister and startling about it, and the Commandant resolved to put an end to it at all hazards. He understood that he was the only person who could make an appeal to these misguided men, who might possibly not remain dumb to the voice of duty speaking through the lips of a man, whose noble character they had enjoyed many opportunities of appreciating, and whom they had been so long accustomed to respect and love.

Commandant Rodriguez looked slowly and sadly, but yet firmly, round him, and extending his arm in the direction of the brig, which was hugging the wind to be able to run alongside the corvette more easily, he said, in a loud and marked voice—

"My men, here comes the enemy. We have our revenge to take upon him: then why are you not at your quarters? What do you want of me? Are you afraid that I shall fail you when the hour for fighting arrives?"

At this direct and firm appeal a strange quiver ran along the ranks of the mutineers; some of them were even going to reply, when a voice was heard from the rear: "Who tells you that we regard that vessel as an enemy?"