For Treasure Bound

by Harry Collingwood

I crouched down behind the tree, and peeped cautiously round the bole; and there, sure enough, was my watchful gentleman sauntering down towards the boats. I allowed him to get far enough away to prevent his seeing me if he suddenly turned round, and then quickly made my way along the edge of the sward, keeping within the shadow of the bush until I thought I was far enough away from the fire to permit of my cutting straight across to the punt as soon as the man was once more out of the way.

I achieved this before the pirate reached the beach, and then stood anxiously watching for what might befall. I did not fear for Bob; I knew that his eyes had been taking in everything which happened from the moment I left him, and I felt quite satisfied that he would not spoil our game by running any risk of discovery. The pirate walked quietly on, and at length reached the punt, looked into her, probably for the missing oars, and then turned round and walked back again. He had not advanced half-a-dozen paces before I saw him waving his arms violently; I thought I heard a stifled cry, and then he fell heavily to the ground; and I saw another figure—Bob’s—kneeling over him. I at once started off as fast as I could run, taking the oars with me, and in about five minutes I stood by my companion’s side. He had got the man down on his face, and was busy lashing his arms firmly behind his back. I forthwith assisted, and, between us, the unfortunate pirate was soon so securely bound, hand and foot, that it was impossible for him to move.

“He can’t sing out,” whispered Bob, “for I’ve stuffed my han’kercher as far down his throat as I could get it, and have made all fast with a turn of his own necktie through his jaws with a reef-knot at the back of his head. He’s safe enough till morning.”

So it appeared, and we therefore left him, with perfect unconcern, to his fate; lifted the light boat and carried her into the water until she was afloat, and then stepped noiselessly into her—Bob taking both oars, whilst I sat in the stern-sheets ready to take possession of the other boats. They were moored at but a very short distance from the beach, one of them being anchored, and the rest hanging by their painters in a string, astern of her. Bob backed the punt gently off until I had got hold of the painter of the anchored boat, which I easily raised, there being only a small boat-anchor attached to its end; this I carefully placed in the stern of the punt in such a position as to afford a secure hold, and then, taking an oar apiece, we pulled noiselessly and as quickly as we dared direct off shore, with the whole fleet of boats in tow astern of us.

I considered that we were safe when we had attained an offing of half-a-mile, for I thought it very unlikely that the pirates would then attempt to overtake us by swimming—the only means of pursuit they now had—even if an alarm were given; but everything still remained perfectly tranquil, and continued so until we had rounded the low point so often mentioned: after which, of course, we were unable to see anything which transpired in the bivouac.

We decided to take the boats, five in number besides the punt, over to the mouth of the channel, and anchor them there until we could pick them up again on our way out in the cutter, and then go back after our canoe, so as to prevent the possibility of her falling into the hands of the pirates. Whilst doing this, Bob volunteered an explanation of his motives for attacking the pirate.

“I see’d all you done, Harry,” he observed, “and thought as everything were going right, until that fool of a feller took it into his head to come down to the beach. I stowed myself away as well as I could under the quarter of the punt—but if his eyes hadn’t ha’ been choked up with sleep he must ha’ see’d me. Hows’ever, he didn’t, and when he turned round to go back, thinks I, ‘It wouldn’t be a bad idee to put a stop to them wanderin’ habits of yourn,’ thinks I; ‘we should be in a pretty mess if you was to come down ag’in, afore we’d got fairly off with them there boats;’ and almost afore I knowed what I intended to do, I’d crept up behind him and flung my arm tight round his neck, with my knee well into the small of his back, and down he comes. He tried to sing out, but the minute he opened his mouth I rammed my handkercher down his throat, and that kept him as quiet as a mouse; and so he’s like to be till morning, when I reckon he’ll find hisself just about in the centre of a hobble, with these here boats all gone, and the brig afire fore and aft, please God. D’ye think I did right, lad?”

“Excellently,” I replied; “nothing could possibly have been done better. Now, here we are, and there goes the anchor. Now, let’s stretch away as hard as we can for the canoe; we have been longer than I bargained for over this business, and we shall have daylight upon us before we are finished if we do not look sharp.”

I now told Bob what I had heard the pirate say, and that, from his remarks, I gathered that “old Steve” was the only man left on board the brig.

I arranged with Bob that he was to answer in the event of the said “old Steve” hailing us as we went alongside, and directed him what to say, as Bob’s phraseology was habitually seasoned far more highly with nautical slang than was my own, and he would, therefore, be less likely to be suspected in the carrying on of a haphazard conversation than myself.