As night closed down upon the lagoons with that rapidity which is peculiar to the tropics and the regions immediately adjacent thereto, our ears were assailed by that babel of sound which prevails with scarcely a moment’s intermission all through the hours of darkness wherever there is a patch of land large enough to support a few trees with their almost invariable attendant undergrowth, and which emanates from the countless myriads of insects which find their home in the ground, the long grass, the foliage, and the bark of the trees, the chorus being swelled in the present instance by the cries of countless lizards—from the diminutive and harmless grass-lizard up to the alligator, the weird sounds uttered by the nocturnal birds which flitted on noiseless wing from bough to bough, and the rattling chirr of a whole army of frogs. And very soon, too, we discovered that we were in one of the favourite haunts of the mosquito, for the cabin lamp was scarcely lighted when the pests made their appearance below in absolute clouds, and so tormented us that we were fain to beat a hasty retreat to the deck, in the vain hope of avoiding them.
We had no sooner set foot on deck, however, than we felt almost thankful to the pertinacious little wretches for having driven us there, for a scene at once burst upon us of such singular and bewitching beauty as I certainly had never up to that time looked upon. The moon, nearly full, and tinted a pale but rich crimson by the atmosphere of miasmatic fog which overhung the lagoon, was just rising into view above the tree-tops and flinging a long tremulous trail of blood-red colour athwart the almost stagnant water. The trees near at hand stood up black as ebony, and motionless as if painted upon the deep soft violet of the cloudless sky, whilst, as they receded to the right and left, their forms gradually became merged with and lost in the fog, which floated not in one uniform mass but in wreaths of ever-changing and most fantastic shape, with their upper edges here and there delicately tinged in faintest rainbow hues as the slanting moonbeams fell upon them. Fireflies, visible only as tiny sparks of light, flitted and glanced and whirled hither and thither against the black shadows of the foliage, whilst the black water, so highly phosphorescent that every tiniest ripple was edged with its own individual and separate line of silvery fire, glowed and darkened, sparkled and flashed, and at times seemed to fairly throb with liquid lightning as the countless living creatures within it stirred its sleeping depths. So insignificant a disturbance even as the falling of a leaf into the water sufficed to evolve a slowly-widening circle of silver light, whilst a frog, a lizard, or a water-rat, making an aquatic excursion, revealed his form and presence much more distinctly than would have been the case at noonday.
Our attention, however, was soon distracted from this witching scene—the exquisite beauty of which is not to be described in mere words—by a noise of singing and shouting on Merlani’s island. Presently a feeble flickering fame became visible on the sandy beach, which, quickly increasing in brilliancy, revealed the evident fact that a party of the buccaneers were intent upon a carouse. With the aid of a telescope we could see that these men, some twenty in number, had seated themselves round the fire—which they had probably kindled for the twofold purpose of providing themselves with light and smoking away the mosquitoes—and were industriously passing round a bulky jar, presumably containing spirits, from which, as it came round, each man scrupulously replenished his pannikin; the intervals not devoted to the more important business of drinking being occupied in the singing, or rather shouting, of ribald songs, in the performance of which every man’s aim appeared to be to out-yell everybody else. This lasted for rather more than an hour, when a temporary lull occurred, and we were in hopes that the orgy was about over and that the hubbub had ceased for the night, when a large boat full of men was seen to be pulling off in our direction. I did not like the look of this at all; the idea of being boarded there in that out-of-the-way spot by a score of desperadoes, half crazy with drink, and, even at the best of times, ripe for any deed of diabolical mischief, was so uninviting that I suggested to Carera the advisability of at once arming all hands, so as to be in readiness for any emergency. I could see that Carera was even more discomposed than ourselves at the approach of the boat, but he would not for a moment listen to my proposal to arm the felucca’s people, hastily explaining—and possibly he was right—that the display of weapons would be only too likely to further excite our coming visitors and lead to some overt act productive of a terrible disaster. He expressed the opinion—his teeth chattering with fear, meanwhile, to such an extent that he could scarcely articulate—that the visit would probably prove to be no more than a drunken frolic, and that if it were received and treated as such all would doubtless turn out well; but he very earnestly urged upon Courtenay and me the desirability of our retiring and keeping out of sight so long as our visitors remained on board, which I thought good enough advice to be acted upon, and we accordingly retreated below forthwith. At first sight this retreat of ours smacked a little, I will admit, of slinking off out of possible harm’s way; but after all what good could we have done by remaining on deck? And having thus far carried our somewhat foolhardy adventure prosperously through, it was scarcely worth while to endanger its ultimate success by courting risks in which the remarks or questions of a drunken desperado might at any moment involve us.
We had barely made good our retreat when the boat arrived alongside, and her occupants were in another moment in possession of the felucca’s deck. A torrent of ribald banter and raillery—of the sort which, coming from a drunken man, is expected to be received as jovial humour, but which a chance word or inadvertent glance of misappreciation may in a moment cause to be exchanged for expressions and acts of the most diabolical ferocity—was at once discharged by these ruffians at Carera and his crew, who, anxious to propitiate their most unwelcome visitors, did their best to retort in kind; and for the next twenty minutes or so the little vessel fairly rang with the most foul, blasphemous, and blood-curdling language it has ever been my misfortune to listen to. Fortunately for us our knowledge of the Spanish tongue, though it had proved sufficiently thorough to deceive Carera and his crew into the belief that we were their fellow-countrymen, was not equal to the comprehension of one-half of the utterances to which we were just then compelled to listen, or I have no doubt we should have been even more thoroughly shocked and disgusted than we were.
And here let me break the thread of my story for a moment to speak an earnest word of kindly caution to my youthful readers. Avoid the use of foul, obscene, or blasphemous language, my lads, as you would avoid the most deadly pestilence. I am grieved to notice that it is sometimes the fashion among lads, ay, even in some cases those of respectable parentage, to freely garnish, as they think, their conversation habitually with language of the most vile and disgusting description. They perhaps think it manly to do so, and imagine that a bold reckless style of conversation, freely besprinkled with obscenity and profanity, will excite admiration. But if they think this they are making as great and grievous a mistake as they are ever likely to make in the whole course of their lives. The feeling excited is not admiration; it is utter loathing and disgust. Can you think of any man the victim of this horrible vice, for whom you entertain the smallest spark of admiration or respect? Would you like to hear such words from the lips of your own father or mother, your brother or your sister? Or would you like either of them to hear you making use of such language? After all, who and what are the men who thus habitually indulge in obscenity and profanity? Are they not the vicious and disreputable, the brutal drunken ruffians, the scum of the slums, the lowest of the low, the very outcasts and pariahs of society? And is it for one of these that you would like to be mistaken? is it with this repulsive brotherhood that you would choose to ally yourself? Hardly, I would fain hope. No, boys, it is not manly—still less is it gentlemanly—to be ribald and profane. No true gentleman—let his position in life be what it may—ever degrades himself by the use of foul language, and don’t you do it, unless you are anxious to gain for yourself the loathing and utter contempt of your fellows.
To resume. In this horrible interchange of filthy banter the pirates appeared to have forgotten, for the time being, the object of their trip off to the felucca, but at length one of them exclaimed, with a profusion of oaths, that Carera had secured an unfair advantage of them during the afternoon’s bartering transactions, and that they had come off to demand a cask of rum with which to square the account Carera, on his part, tried to laugh off the whole affair as an excellent joke, and proposed to mix them a tub of grog there and then as an appropriate finish to it; but this would by no means satisfy the ruffians, who were firm in their demands. So at length, recognising that longer refusal would prove dangerous, he reluctantly ordered the hatches to be lifted. The cask of rum was hoisted out and lowered into the boat, the pirates tumbled in after it, and, finally, with more profanity mingled with snatches of sea-songs, which were bellowed forth at the top of their voices in the style usual with half-tipsy men, away they went for the shore, followed by the smothered imprecations of Carera and his fervent prayers that the boat might capsize and drown them all.
This visit had evidently discomposed Carera’s nerves to a very considerable extent, for the boat was no sooner fairly away from the felucca’s side than our host presented himself in the cabin, to inform us that, the land-breeze having sprung up and the night being fine and clear, he proposed to go to sea at once instead of waiting until morning. We accordingly went on deck again instead of turning in, as had been our original intention; and a few minutes later—the boat being by this time close to the beach, and so thoroughly within the circle of the brilliant firelight that her occupants were not likely to observe our movements—the canvas was loosed and all hands went cheerily to work to get the anchor. This, the water being shallow, was not a long job, and a quarter of an hour later we were stealing noiselessly away down the lagoon; the land-breeze, which was rustling cheerily among the tree-tops, just reaching us in a languid zephyr, mingled now and again with fitful puffs, which sent us along at a speed of about three knots.
It was now nearly ten o’clock at night; the moon rode high in the heavens, which were flecked here and there by small patches of fleecy scurrying cloud; the fog had drifted away, leaving the atmosphere delightfully pure and clear, so that, narrow as was the channel down which we were winding our way, we had no difficulty in steering clear of all obstruction. As we crept down the lagoon we gradually got a truer breeze and more of it, so that by midnight we found ourselves just passing out of the Conconil lagoons and entering Santa Clara Bay.
We now had a fine rattling breeze, which we expected would carry us across the bay and out through the Barcos Channel within the next hour, but, to Courtenay’s and my own inexpressible chagrin, Carera now informed us that, in order to escape the possibility of a second rencontre with the frigate we had fallen in with on our passage up, he had determined to go to the westward, returning round Cape San Antonio instead of by way of Cape Maysi.
This was horribly disconcerting, for, to tell the truth, we had to a large extent been hoping for and depending upon such a rencontre as a means whereby we might effect our escape from the felucca. We thought that, in the event of such a meeting, as we had on the former occasion afforded such material assistance to the felucca’s crew in their evasion of capture, so now by a little judicious manoeuvring on our part we might be the means of effecting it; and it was a severe disappointment to us to find that this—the most promising opening we had so far been able to think of—was going to slip through our fingers. We urged upon Carera the importance of time, and reiterated, as often as we dared, our (assumed) belief that the frigate was by that time far enough away from the Bahama Channel; but it was all in vain, the fellow was not to be dissuaded from his purpose, and accordingly, on leaving the Conconil lagoons, instead of stretching away before the wind straight for the Barcos Channel, the felucca was headed to the westward, on the larboard tack, for the Manou Channel, leading from Santa Clara Bay into Cardenas Bay.