Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the Mast

by James Fenimore Cooper

The chap who cut away the square-sail halyards, I felt certain was no Spaniard. The sail was no sooner down, than he ran his knife along the head, below the bolt-rope, as if to cut away the cloth with the least trouble to himself. I was standing near, and asked him why he destroyed the sail; if he wanted it, why he did not take it whole? At this, he turned short round upon me, raised his arm, and struck a heavy blow at me with his fearful-looking knife. The point of the deadly weapon struck square on my breast-bone! I fell, partly through the force of the blow, and partly from policy; for I thought it safest to be lying on my back. I got several hearty kicks, in addition to this fierce attack, together with sundry curses in broken Spanish. I spoke in English, of course; and that the man understood me was clear enough by the expression of his countenance, and his act. The wound was slight, though it bled a good deal, covering my shirt and trowsers with blood, as much as if I had been run through the heart. An inch or two, either way, in the direction of the knife, would certainly have killed me.

I do not know what might haye been the end of this affair, had not one of the pirates come forward, at this critical instant, and checked my assailant by shaking a finger at him. This man, I feel very certain, I knew. I will not mention his name, as there is a doubt; but I cannot think I was mistaken. If I am right, he was a young man from Connecticut, who sailed one voyage to Liverpool with me in The Sterling. With that young man I had been very intimate, and was oftener with him ashore than with any other of the crew. His face was blackened, like those of all his companions, but this did not conceal his air, manner, size, eyes and voice. When he spoke, it was in a jargon of broken English and broken Spanish, such as no man accustomed to either language from infancy would have used. The same was true as to all the rest I heard speak, with the exception of an old fellow in the boat, whom I shall presently have occasion to mention, again.

The man I took to be my old shipmate, also seemed to know me. I was but a lad when I quitted the Sterling, it is true; but they tell me I have not altered a great deal in general appearance. My hair is still black; and then, when I was in the very prime of life, it must have been easy to recognize me. So strongly was I impressed, at the time, that I saw an old acquaintance, I was about to call him by name, when, luckily, it crossed my mind this might be dangerous. The pirates wished clearly to be unknown, and it was wisest to let them think they were so. My supposed shipmate, however, proved my friend, and I received no more personal ill treatment after he had spoken to his companion. I sometimes think he was the means, indeed, of saving all our lives. He asked me if there was any money, and, on my denying it, he told me they knew better: the schooner was in ballast, and must have got something for her outward cargo. I refused to tell, and he ordered me into their boat, whither the captain had been sent before me. In doing all this, his manner wore an appearance, to me, of assumed severity.

The poor old Frenchman fared worse. They seemed to know he was owner, and probably thought he could give the best account of the money. At any rate, he was unmercifully flogged, though he held out to the last, refusing to betray his doubloons. The boy was next attacked-with threats of throwing him overboard. This extracted the secret, and the doubloons were soon discovered.

The captain and myself had been stowed under a half-deck, in the boat, but as soon as the money was found, the old Spaniard, who stood sentinel over us, was told to let us out, that we might see the fun. There were the eight scoundrels, paraded around the trunk of the schooner, dividing the doubloons. As soon as this was done, we were told to come alongside with our boat, which had been used to carry us to the piratical craft. The captain got on board the Sally and I was ordered to scull the rogues, in one gang, back to their own craft. The scamps were in high spirits, seeming much pleased with their haul. They cracked a good many jokes at our expense, but were so well satisfied with their gold, that they left the square-sail behind them. They had robbed the cabin, however, carrying off, for me, a quadrant, a watch, and a large portion of my clothes. The forecastle had not been entered, though the men had four hundred dollars lying under a pile of dirt and old junk, to keep them out of sight.

My supposed shipmate bore me in mind to the last. When we reached his craft, he poured out a glass of brandy and offered it to me. I was afraid to drink, thinking it might be poisoned. He seemed to understand me, and swallowed it himself, in a significant manner. This gave me courage, and I took the next nip without hesitation. He then told me to shove off, which I did without waiting for a second order. The pirates pulled away at the same time.

We were a melancholy party, as soon as we found ourselves left to ourselves. The old Frenchman was sad enough, and all of us pitied him. He made no complaint of the boy, notwithstanding, and little was said among us about the robbery. My wound proved trifling, though the old man was so bruised and beaten that he could scarcely walk.

As soon as a breeze came, we went into Charleston, having no means to buy the cargo we had intended to get at Matanzas. This was the first time I was ever actually boarded by a pirate, although I had had several narrow escapes before. The first was in the Sterling, off the coast of Portugal; the next was in the William and Jane, outward bound to Canton; the third was on the bank, in the Trio, off the coast of Java; and the fourth, in the Mechanic, on the other side of Cuba. It was not the last of my affairs with them, however, as will be seen in the sequel.

I went out in the Sally again, making a voyage to Matanzas and back, without any accident, or incident, worth mentioning. I still intended to remain in this schooner, the captain and I agreeing perfectly well, had I not been driven out of her by one of those unlucky accidents, of which so many have laid me athwart-hawse.

We were discharging sugar at Charleston, in very heavy casks. The tide being in, the vessel's rail was higher than the wharf, and we landed the casks on the rail, from which they were rolled down some planks to the shore. Two negroes were stationed on the wharf to receive the casks, and to ease them down. One of these fellows was in the practice of running up the planks, instead of standing at their side and holding on to the end of the hogsheads. I remonstrated with him several times about the danger he ran, but he paid no attention to what I said. At length my words came true; a cask got away from the men, and rolled directly over this negro, flattening him like a bit of dough.