The Log of a Privateersman

by Harry Collingwood

I happened to have a few dollars that I had taken the precaution to slip into my pocket before leaving the ship; these I handed to him, and we then sauntered slowly toward the spot where the boat was to meet us.

I went on board the schooner that night, and devoted the whole of the following day to the preparations for our great coup, setting all hands to work sharpening cutlasses, cleaning pistols, effectually muffling the boats’ oars and rowlocks, and, in fact, making every possible provision that I could think of to ensure our success. And the next day I made the men rest all day, so that they might be fit for a long and arduous night’s work.

It may be imagined that I kept an exceedingly anxious eye on the barometer throughout that day, for I realised that the weather would have much to do with the making or marring of our fortunes on the eventful night. The mercury remained steady in the tube until close upon sunset, and then it began to drop a little, the drop continuing until it had gone down nearly three-tenths of an inch. I scarcely knew what to make of this; whether to expect a shift of wind and a strong breeze, or whether it merely meant rain, or a thunder-storm. The sun, however, had scarcely set when we got a hint of what was to come, in the shape of a bank of dark, purplish, slate-coloured clouds that began to pile themselves along the eastern horizon, their edges as sharply defined against the clear sky as though the masses had been clipped out of paper. We were to be treated to a thunder-storm, and a pretty severe one, too, if the promise of those clouds was to be relied upon. We had been hove-to all day, some twenty miles in the offing, under mainsail and jib only; so that, by keeping our canvas low, we might escape observation from the land, although I had but little fear of this unless anyone happened to have wandered up to the top of one of the hills of Tierra Bomba, from which it would have been possible to see us. But the moment that the sun had fairly disappeared below the horizon, sail was packed upon the schooner, and we proceeded to work in toward the land, my chief anxiety now being lest the thunder-storm should gather and break before we had succeeded in effecting a landing, in which case we stood a very fair chance of being discovered, and of finding everybody on the alert to give us a warm reception. We reached in, on the starboard tack, until we were within about two miles of Punta de Canoas, when we hove about and reached along the land to the southward. By this time the thunder-clouds had completely overspread the sky; it was as dark as the inside of a cavern, and the storm might burst upon us at any moment. It hung off, however, and at length, much to my relief, we found ourselves close to the northern extremity of Tierra Bomba, and within half a mile of the shore. It was so dark that it was quite impossible to see anything, the land merely showing as a slightly deeper shadow against the intense blackness of the overcast sky. But I had so thoroughly studied all the natural features of the harbour and its surroundings during my day’s sojourn ashore that I now seemed to be perfectly familiar with them all. I therefore had no hesitation whatever in hauling the schooner in under the lee of the island until we were actually becalmed, when, the lead giving us a depth of barely four fathoms, I let go the anchor and stripped the schooner of all her canvas, not furling it, however, but simply passing a few turns of the gaskets, so that everything might be ready for making sail again at a moment’s notice.

We were now, according to my judgment—for, as I have said, we could actually see nothing,—in the shallow bay where Hoard and I had landed three nights previously; and I believed, moreover, that we were so close to the land as to be completely shut in and hidden, both from the north and from the south. Needless to say, I had long ago issued orders to extinguish all unnecessary lights, and for those that were indispensable to be closely masked. There was therefore nothing to betray to the sight our whereabouts; and as to sound, every sheave and tackle that was in the least likely to be used had been so thoroughly greased that it worked in absolute silence, while the men, although shod for our tramp across the narrow point at the southern extremity of the island, had lashed thick wads of oakum to the soles of their shoes, and consequently moved about the decks as silently as ghosts. Moreover, the boats had all been so thoroughly prepared, hours beforehand, for the expedition, that there remained nothing whatever to be done but to lower them into the water, unhook the tackles, and shove off. When we let go our anchor it still wanted a good hour to midnight; nevertheless, so anxious was I lest the threatening storm should break, and the lightning betray our movements, that I determined to man the boats forthwith, and beach them if necessary, believing that thus we should run less risk of detection.

All these precautions, it must be understood, were adopted not so much from any apprehension of ultimate failure, for I had determined to have the galleon, but because I wanted to save my men. I now summoned Saunders down into the cabin, and read over to him the instructions that I had carefully prepared for his guidance during the earlier part of the day, explained them to him fully, and then handed him the paper. The men who were to accompany me on the expedition were next mustered in the ’tween-decks and sent to supper, after which their weapons were carefully inspected, and a liberal quantity of ammunition served out to them; and then, when I had satisfied myself that all was right, I made them a little speech, explaining what I purposed doing, and how I wanted it done; when, having enjoined them to observe the most absolute silence, the light was extinguished, all hands groped their way on deck, the boats were lowered and manned, and we shoved off, each boat attached by her painter to the one ahead, so that we might not part company in the profound darkness. It was presently found, however, that this precaution was unnecessary, the water being so brilliantly phosphorescent as to afford all the guidance that was needed; indeed, there was altogether too much luminosity to please me. We were even closer to the shore than I had imagined, for we had not been under way five minutes, when the gig, in which I led the way, grounded upon the sand. And as she did so, I became aware of a weird, gaunt-looking figure, clad in rags, standing at the water’s edge, close to the boat’s stem.

“All right, Cap’n, it’s me—Hoard—sir,” explained this figure, in a low, hoarse whisper, as I sprang ashore and gripped the fellow by the throat. “There was nothing to keep me,” he continued, as I relaxed my grip upon him; “so I came right on here, thinkin’ that, mayhap, you’d be a little bit afore your time, and wouldn’t want to be kept waitin’. Everything is just as right, sir, as if you’d planned the whole thing yourself; the gold is all shipped; the Señora has been hauled out to the Manzanilla anchorage, ready to sail as soon as the sojers is shipped to-morrow morning; and the commandant is givin’ a farewell festa, as they calls it, to all the officers to-night; so that the chances are not one of ’em will think of goin’ aboard until daylight.”

“Good heavens!” I exclaimed; “what carelessness! what folly! I should have thought they would have been afraid to leave so vast an amount of treasure unguarded.”

“Why so, sir?” demanded Hoard. “They believe that the whole thing has been kept as secret as the grave—and so it would have been, too, but for the wreck of the Magdalena—so they don’t expect any such attack as you’re preparin’ for ’em. And as to anybody ashore attemptin’ to meddle with the ship—why, they’d sooner jump overboard and drownd theirselves. So that it ain’t so very wonderful, a’ter all, to my mind, that they believes their gold to be perfectly safe. Besides, there’s the San Fernando battery: who’d ever dream of that bein’ attacked and took?”

“Well,” said I, “it all seems fairly reasonable as you put it, Hoard; still I cannot understand such an extraordinary lack of precaution. But, of course, it is so much the better for us. What about her crew?”

“Oh! they’re all aboard, sir; but they’ll be turned in and sound asleep by this time,—anchor watch and all, as likely as not,” was the reply.