“Well, Mr Young,” exclaimed the captain as he stepped in on deck, “what is the meaning of this?”
“I wish I could tell you, sir,” answered Young. “There has been foul play of some sort; but who is the guilty party I know no more than you do. As you will remember, it blew very hard last night when you left us; and for some time after you had gone I remained on the forecastle, watching the ship as she rode to her anchor. She strained a little at her cable when the heavier puffs struck her, but by no means to such an extent as to arouse the slightest anxiety; and after I had been watching for fully an hour, finding that the holding ground was good, and that even during the heaviest of the puffs the strain upon the cable was only very moderate, I felt perfectly satisfied as to the safety of the ship, and retired to the quarter-deck, leaving two men on the look-out on the forecastle, two in the waist, and one on either quarter; for although I anticipated no danger, I was fully alive to the responsibility that you had laid upon me in entrusting me with the care of the ship, as well as to the fact that in the event of a chance encounter just hereabout, we were far more likely to meet with an enemy than a friend. The same feeling animated the men too, I am sure, for the look-outs never responded to my hail with more alacrity, or showed themselves more keenly watchful than they did last night; yet I had barely been off the forecastle half-an-hour when we discovered that we were adrift; and before I could let go the second anchor we were hard and fast upon this bank, fore and aft, and that, too, just upon the top of high-water. I of course at once hoisted out our remaining boats, and ran away the stream-anchor to windward; but, working as we were in the dark, it took us a long time to do it; and I then sent down the royal and topgallant—yards and masts. When daylight came I examined the cable, thinking that possibly it might have chafed through on a rock; but to my surprise I found that it had been clean cut at the water’s edge. How it was done, or who did it, is impossible to guess, for although I have very strictly questioned both the forecastle look-outs, they persist in the statement that they saw nothing, and were aware of nothing until the ship was found to be adrift.”
“Well, it is a most extraordinary circumstance,” commented the captain. “Are you quite satisfied that the men remained fully on the alert all the time?”
“Perfectly, sir,” answered the lieutenant. “I hailed them every ten minutes or so, not knowing at what moment some disagreeable surprise might be sprung upon us. Besides, we did not know how you might be faring, and thought it quite possible that the craft you were after might attempt to give you the slip in the darkness. The men on the forecastle were two of the best we have in the ship—William Robinson and Henry Perkins.”
“Yes,” assented the captain; “they have always hitherto seemed thoroughly trustworthy and reliable men. Where are they? I should like to ask them a question or two.”
The two men were summoned, and at once subjected to a very sharp cross-examination, which led to nothing, however, as they both persistently declared that they had neither seen nor heard anything to arouse the slightest suspicion until the discovery was made that the ship was adrift. The captain then went forward and inspected the severed cable; but that revealed nothing beyond the fact that the strands had been cut almost completely through with some very sharp instrument before the stubborn hemp had given way. In short, the whole affair was enshrouded in the deepest mystery. When, however, the captain had heard the whole story, and thoroughly investigated the matter, he freely absolved the first luff from all blame, frankly acknowledging that he did not see what more could have been done to provide for the safety of the ship, and that the thing would undoubtedly have happened just the same had he himself remained on board instead of going away with the boats.
Meanwhile, the dead and wounded had been conveyed from the prizes to the Barracouta, where the doctor immediately took the sufferers in hand, while the slain were stitched up in their hammocks ready for burial. At length it came to my turn to be attended to, and when the doctor saw my foot—now so dreadfully swollen and inflamed that my whole leg was affected, right up to the knee—I was promptly consigned to the sick-bay, with the intimation that I might think myself exceedingly fortunate if in that hot climate mortification did not set in and necessitate the amputation of my leg. I am thankful to say, however, that it did not; and in three weeks I was discharged from the doctor’s care, and once more able to hobble about with the aid of a soft felt slipper. The dead were buried that same forenoon on the point projecting into the river at the junction of the creek with the main stream, the graves being dug in a small space of smooth, grassy lawn beneath the shadow of a magnificent group of fine tall palms.
A hasty breakfast was snatched, as soon as it could be got ready; and then every man available was set to work upon the task of lightening the stranded brig, her guns and such other heavy weights as were most easily accessible being transferred to the prizes, after which the second bower was weighed and run away to windward in the long-boat by means of a kedge; and such was the activity displayed, that at high-water that same afternoon—the tides were fortunately making at the time—the Barracouta floated and was hove off to her anchor. Meanwhile, the missing anchor had been swept for and found, and the severed end of the cable buoyed; before nightfall, therefore, the cable was spliced, and the bonny brig once more riding to her best bower. The men were kept at work until it was too dark to see further; and by six bells in the forenoon watch next day she was again all ataunto, her guns and everything else once more on board her, and the ship herself all ready for sea, it having been ascertained that she had sustained no damage whatever. It may be mentioned that the schooner which had effected her escape from us in the lagoon managed to slip out of the creek and get clear away without being observed by anybody on board the Barracouta; but that of course is easily accounted for by the pitchy darkness of the night, and the fact that she must have passed out of the creek a very short while after the brig had grounded upon the sand-bank, and when of course our lads would be fully occupied in looking after their own craft.
Proper prize-crews were now told off to the three prizes—Ryan being placed in charge of the Mercedes; Gowland, the master’s mate, in charge of the Doña Hermosa; and Good, one of the midshipmen, in charge of the Felicidad—and the order to weigh and proceed in company was given. There was a slashing breeze from the eastward blowing; and this, combined with a strong downward current, carried us along over the ground so smartly that in less than two hours we were abreast of Shark Point, although the Doña Hermosa proved to be such an indifferent sailer that the rest of us had to materially reduce our spread of canvas to avoid running away from her altogether. The Felicidad, on the other hand, sailed like a witch, and kept her station without difficulty, under a single-reefed mainsail, foresail, and inner jib, with all her square canvas stowed. The master informed me that as we passed Banana Point he had remembered to subject the anchorage to a very careful scrutiny through his telescope, and, as he had foretold, the handsome Spanish brig had disappeared, the Englishman and the Dutchman being the only craft still lying off the wharf. Having made an offing of about twenty miles, we hauled up some three points to the northward for Cape Palmas, our destination being of course Sierra Leone.
On the third day out, the captain of the Mercedes—whom I had shot in self-defence in his own cabin, it will be remembered—died of his wound, solemnly declaring with his last breath that he was absolutely innocent of any complicity in the destruction of the Sapphire’s two boats with their crews, or in the disappearance of the Wasp. He admitted that he had heard of both occurrences, and had been told the name of the individual who was said to be responsible for them, but he stubbornly persisted in his refusal to give any information whatever, and carried the secret to his ocean grave with him.