The Pirate Slaver: A Story of the West African Coast

by Harry Collingwood

“Say you so, man?” I exclaimed. “Then never mind fiddling with that wire any longer. Let us put our shoulders to the door and burst it open!”

“Half a second, sir; I’ve got the thing now, and—there, that’s all right! Now try the door, sir!”

As the man spoke I heard the click of the lock as it went back, and, turning the handle, the door opened, and I entered.

The cabin was a fine, roomy one, and of good height, as cabins went in those days; it contained two standing bunks, one above the other, fitted with brass rods and damask curtains, a sofa against the side of the ship, a wash-stand in a recess between the bunks and the bulkhead adjoining the saloon, a framed mirror above it, a folding mahogany table against the transverse bulkhead, brass pins upon which to hang clothing, a curtain to draw across the doorway, a handsome lamp with a ground-glass globe hung in gimbals in the centre of the transverse bulkhead, two large travelling trunks and three or four smaller cases, broken open and the contents strewn upon the carpeted deck, and prone among them, bound hand and foot and lashed together, were the figures of a man and woman, both evidently elderly, although their precise ages could hardly be guessed by the imperfect light that streamed in from the saloon through the open door.

As I entered the apartment, noting these details in a single comprehensive glance, the woman moaned—

“Oh, sir, for the love of God pray release us from these cruel bonds as quickly as possible; they are bound so tightly that the circulation of the blood is stopped, and we have been suffering the most excruciating agony for hours.”

“I will cut you adrift at once, madam,” said I, unsheathing the long knife which was attached to the belt that Simpson had lent me with the clothes. “Had I known that you were in this cruel plight, I would have risked everything in the endeavour to release you when I first entered the cabin.”

I cut the unfortunate couple adrift, and, having first taken the precaution to draw the curtain of the side-light, lighted the lamp, and, with Maxwell’s assistance, raised the lady into a sitting position; after which we lifted her husband and placed him on the bed in the lower berth. He was a very fine, handsome man of about fifty years of age, with that indescribable and unmistakable look of the soldier about him that seems to set its mark upon every military man. His wife was perhaps seven or eight years his junior, still exceedingly good-looking, and must, at her best, have been a singularly lovely woman.

The colonel, it appeared, had, in common with the other passengers who had any womankind on board, locked his wife and daughters into their cabins when it was foreseen that an attack upon the ship was inevitable; and it was after the fight was over that he was severely stabbed in resisting an attempt on the part of one of the Francesca’s crew to force open his daughters’ cabin. Probably the poor man would have been murdered outright but for the opportune appearance of Mendouca, who sternly ordered every one of his men out of the cabin, except two, whom he personally supervised as they executed his order to bind all the survivors hand and foot and confine them in the cabins. Luckily for the unfortunate passengers, the first thought of the men had been drink, and the second, plunder; and by the time that these two appetites had been satisfied, all thought of further violence had passed out of their heads.

The first thing now to be done was to find the ship’s surgeon—if he were still alive; so, leaving Maxwell in the cuddy to continue his lock-picking operations, I sallied out on deck and, first softly calling to the men aloft that they might now venture to come down, hunted up the steward, and inquired of him whether he knew where the surgeon was to be found. He answered that the surgeon, purser, and three mates were all berthed in the after-house, between the main-mast and the main-hatch, and that probably the man I wanted would be found there, adding that, as he believed the pirates had flung all the keys overboard, he would take the liberty of going into poor Captain Mason’s cabin, and bringing me a bunch of spare keys that he knew were always kept there. This he did, and, finding the key of the after-house, we entered it together, to find the unhappy surgeon and purser bound hand and foot, and lashed together in such a manner that neither of them could move, upon the floor of the cabin. To release the pair was but the work of a moment; after which, having directed the doctor to hasten to the cuddy and attend to the colonel’s injuries, I made a survey of the decks with the result that fourteen more of the Bangalore’s crew were found, of whom six were dead, and eight more or less seriously wounded; the latter were removed to their bunks in the forecastle forthwith and attended to by Mr Grant, the surgeon, as soon as he had dressed the wounds of Colonel Maynard and two other passengers. I may as well say here, to save time, that, thanks to Grant’s skill and unremitting attention, all the wounded were reported to be doing well and, with the exception of Colonel Maynard, out of danger.