Latitude 19° / A Romance of the West Indies in the Year of Our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Twenty

by Mrs. Schuyler Crowninshield

I still heard distant shouts, and the sound of an occasional shot from a gun. There were voices from the water, as well as from the land. I wondered what new danger threatened us. When I got opposite the tree where Cynthia and her Uncle were concealed, I set the cup and the bottle upon the ground, and, crouching down, I stole toward the line of the beach. I passed from tree to tree with great care. Finally I reached a vantage point where I could survey all the actors in the drama.

The first thing I discovered was that our two boats were a hundred yards or so out on the waters of the bay, and that the foremost one only was occupied. The dinghy was being towed behind the long boat. There were two persons in the boat, and, as I shaded my eyes from the rays of the setting sun, which struck obliquely down the long beach, I managed to make out the Bo's'n and the Minion. The Bo's'n was paddling slowly along with an easy motion, which did not seem to argue at all that he had any intention of leaving the island, and the Minion was standing up in the stern sheets and executing what we should call nowadays a double shuffle or a breakdown. He made derisive motions toward those on shore, whistled and laughed unrestrainedly, patted his legs as we would if calling a dog, and, in fact, was so outrageous in his insults that he had worked the men into a perfect frenzy. I truly think that his life would not have been worth a moment's purchase had the sailors on shore been able to lay hands on him. The Haïtiens were nowhere to be seen, and of the sailors there remained but nine. Whether some of the men had pursued the Haïtiens or whether they had been killed, I could not determine. I saw that Bill Tomkins, the acknowledged leader of the men, had the young girl in his possession. The cords were still around her wrists; the other ends he had twisted round his hand, as one holds the reins in driving a frisky horse. The girl had her hands over her eyes, and was weaving back and forth, as if in great agony of mind. If we had had the Bo's'n and Minion on our side, we might have attacked the sailors and rescued the girl. But the men were just enough inflamed with liquor to care nothing for the authority of either Captain Schuyler or myself, and I thought it more prudent to wait a little and see what resulted. For, terrible as it was to see that young girl in the clutches of those rough men, it would be death to us three to have them obtain possession of Cynthia.

I now saw that the men, with fists shaking in air, and uttering bitter and profane imprecations at the Bo's'n and the Minion, had turned their heads our way again. I retreated hastily, and picked up my bottle and the cup of water. I had hardly reached the hollow tree when I heard the sound of running footsteps, and just as I got safely inside they rushed past us, Bill Tomkins pulling the young captive after him. The poor child was forced to run with him, or to be dragged along the beach.

The sailors ran straight for the mango tree, whooping and hallooing as they came. Tomkins tied the cords which he held in his hand to a stout limb, thus fettering his captive, and then, with his comrades, proceeded to search the thicket. I knew at once for what they were searching.

I heard some reference to "the old man," which I understood, of course. When they spoke of "the popinjay," I was at a loss to comprehend to whom they referred. Bill Tomkins seemed to take charge and give orders. He remained close to the tree and near his captive. There was blood upon his hands and clothes, and upon the young girl's skirt. The girl leaned against the tree in the most abject state of misery and fear. Each time that Tomkins moved she raised her large eyes to his in a frightened, imploring manner, as if begging for mercy.

"I must go and rescue that child!" whispered Cynthia to me in fierce tones. I seized her wrists and held her in a viselike grasp.

"You will do nothing of the kind," I whispered back. "We should be at the mercy of those ruffians. Wait until the case gets desperate. They may mean to liberate her themselves."

The men had always been fairly good sailors on board ship, and had been respectful to the officers during the voyage, but the enemy that a man takes into his mouth to steal away his brains had made them fiends. They ran about in a sort of frenzy, looking for the keg, uttering wild oaths and imprecations against the Skipper and that "blanked popinjay," whom I was finally forced to mentally acknowledge was myself. I could see no way out of the difficulty. I hoped that they would resume their march along the coast, and yet I did not purpose that they should take the young girl with them. I thought that should they discover the keg, no bounds would be placed upon the excesses which they might commit.

We watched them with anxiety through our vantage holes, and at last, just when we hoped that they had missed the keg, some one stumbled exactly upon it. My heart fell with a thump like lead as I heard Hummocks's foot strike against the hoop. A shout of joy went up from the men which made me heartsick. Even Tomkins left his captive and joined the others. They threw themselves upon the ground one and all, and struggled like wild men for the first draught of the madly desired liquor. Blows began to rain down, and pistols and machetes were drawn. I began to hope that they would kill, or at least maim each other sufficiently to allow of our capturing them with the aid of the Bo's'n and the Minion. But Tomkins, seeing how things were going, interposed. He called a halt in an authoritative tone of voice.

"Belay there, boys!" he cried; "let's be fair. What do you say to drawing lots?" He stooped and picked some blades of grass, and broke them in different lengths.