Chapter Twenty Four.
The capture of Nostra Señora del Carmen.
Arrived at the boats, we lost not a moment in tumbling into them and getting under way again, for time was now a precious commodity, there being still a journey of some four miles before us ere the galleon could be reached. But, once fairly clear of the Boca, or channel, we should be able to use our sails, which I had taken the precaution to have placed in the boats, and then we should make good progress, while the men would be resting.
The first question for consideration, however, was what to do with our two prisoners. This was speedily settled by Hoard, who suggested that they should be landed upon a small islet, called Brujas Island, situate on the opposite side of the harbour, and lying but little out of our regular way. This we did, of course first casting them loose and taking the gags out of their mouths; but although they were thus freed from actual physical restraint they remained as harmless as before, so far as we were concerned, for Brujas Island was uninhabited, and separated from the mainland by two channels which, although only narrow, were so dangerous, in consequence of the sharks with which the harbour was infested, that the Spaniards were not at all likely to imperil their lives by attempting to swim them. There they were, therefore, harmless enough, so far as we were concerned, until morning, when probably some passing fisherman might be attracted by their cries, and would release them. But, whether released or not, I had very little fear that they would attempt to return to the battery and give the alarm there; the fact that they had allowed themselves to be surprised and made prisoners would be accounted by their officers an unpardonable crime; and the probability was that, when released from the island, they would take to the forest and make for the interior to escape punishment.
By the time that we had landed these two unfortunate men the thunder-storm had passed away to seaward, the crash of the thunder had become modulated to a booming rumble, and a steady, drenching downpour of rain had set in; the clouds overhead, however, were not nearly so heavy and black as they had been previous to the outbreak of the storm, and there was sufficient light to enable us to see where we were going. We accordingly shoved off from Brujas in high spirits, and, hoisting our sails, headed up the harbour. The land wind was blowing, although not very strongly, and when we had been under way about half an hour we began to look out for the galleon. Hoard was the first to see her—probably because he knew best of us all where to look for her,—and, the moment that she was sighted, the gig’s sails were lowered, as a signal for the other boats to close round us. This they immediately did, when I repeated, in a low voice, the orders that I had already given before leaving the schooner, in order that every man might know exactly what duty was expected of him, and do it. Then, having thus refreshed every man’s memory, I gave the order to draw cutlasses and paddle quietly alongside.
A few minutes sufficed to take us to the galleon; and a fine, stately, noble-looking craft she was, towering out of the water like a line-of-battle ship; her lofty masts and wide-spreading yards seeming to pierce the sky and lose themselves among the few stars that now came twinkling mistily out, here and there overhead.
We got alongside without being challenged—to my great surprise; and, half of us boarding her to port and the other half to starboard, in less than a minute we were all on deck, and gliding softly and noiselessly as shadows here and there; some securing the fore-scuttle, others the companions and sky-lights; while others again were briskly swarming up the shrouds to loose the canvas; the carpenter—with his axe specially sharpened for the occasion—at once stationing himself by the cables, ready to cut them at a sign from me, while two men placed themselves at the ponderous and highly-ornamented wheel.
The singular circumstance that we had succeeded in getting alongside without being challenged was fully accounted for by the fact that not a single soul was on deck when we had glided in over the galleon’s lofty bulwarks. If an anchor watch had been set, the men composing it had—as Hoard had predicted—quietly ignored their duty, in the absence of the officers, by turning in and leaving the ship to take care of herself. The surprise was complete; the galleon had fallen into our hands without so much as a single blow being struck. Of course, there was the crew below to be reckoned with still, but meanwhile they were close prisoners and asleep; and, even in the event of their awaking at once and proceeding to force their way on deck, it would be some time ere they would be able to break out; and by that time, if all went well, we should be far enough from the neighbourhood of the town to render any prospect of assistance from that quarter practically out of the question. What I most feared was that somebody on board one or another of the many craft that were anchored in our immediate vicinity might notice the operation of loosing and setting the galleon’s canvas, and suspecting something to be wrong, man a boat and go ashore to give the alarm; in which case we should soon have three or four swift galleys after us; when we were likely enough to find ourselves in an exceedingly awkward scrape. That, however, was a danger that we had to face. And after all it was not so very great; for if no anchor watch was being kept on board the galleon, how much less likely was it that such a watch would be kept on board the comparatively valueless coasters by which we were surrounded.