The Day after the Fight.
The day was well advanced, and the fierce rays of the African sun were pouring on the “Halcyon’s” decks, as she lay at anchor in Saint Augustine’s Bay. On shore the parrots could be heard chattering and screaming, the long cry of the peacock sounded from the woods, while on board every sign of the late bloody fight had been removed. The “Halcyon’s” crew had been reduced by five deaths, and many of the men were hardly able to work from the effects of weakness. Still everything was going on well. The fore-topmast was in its place, the main-topgallant-mast replaced, and the standing and running rigging nearly finished. A new jib-boom had been rigged out, and the only spar wanting was the fore-topgallant-mast, which could be easily done without. The mate had weighed the spare anchor, and the brig now rode to a single one, and that was hove short. The crew were busy bending new sails, and no one who had looked into St Augustine’s Bay that afternoon could have imagined that the vessel which lay so quietly riding on the calm waters, had just escaped from shipwreck, and her crew from murder.
“I know where the rascals hail from,” said Captain Weber to the missionary.
The old seaman had a broad bandage round his forehead, and Wyzinski walked with the help of a stick. Leaning over the taffrail at some little distance, Hughes and Dom Maxara were in earnest conversation, the blue smoke from the noble’s cigarette rising in the air.
“I should not have believed in piracy in this age,” replied Wyzinski.
“Ay, but several vessels have been closely followed by a low rakish black schooner, of small tonnage, but very swift. The ‘Dawn,’ a full-rigged ship I spoke in the latitude of Cape St André, had some difficulty in getting away from her.”
“Is she armed?” asked Wyzinski.
“The ‘Dawn’s’ people said not, but as the ship happened to be crowded with coolies, it is possible that the schooner would not show her metal.”
“And you think that the Malays were part of her crew?”