“Silence, my lads; we must not let the Moors know what we are about.”
Never did a crew let fall the topsails with greater good-will than we did. We had kept two reefs in them for an emergency. I now saw the wisdom of the captain’s forethought when he gave the order, as some time before we had loosed sails.
We were riding with the ship’s head towards the mouth of the river, the tide still running in. Thus, being strongly manned with willing hearts, we were soon under way. No one from the shore observed us, or, at all events, came off to stop us. Sidy, the interpreter, was fortunately on shore, so that we had no trouble about him, and the captain knew that he could easily pay him through the consignee of the ship. Captain Gale’s intention was, I learned, to run down to the mouth of the harbour, and to anchor if necessary. We got a cable ranged accordingly, with an anchor ready to let go. The brig quickly felt the force of the wind, and, happily canting the right way, and her sails filling, away she flew, heeling over to the gale towards the open sea. The captain, or one of the mates, or Peter, had been constantly sailing about the harbour, as if to amuse themselves, or to catch fish, but in reality to sound the depth of the water, and to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with the harbour. We thus required no pilot to carry us out.
As we rounded the point I have described, the mouth of the river lay before us—a long line of surf, with heavy breakers rolling and roaring in from the sea, apparently barring our exit. Outside of it was the corvette, close-hauled with three reefs in her topsail, standing off-shore, and, as far as we could see, uninjured. But the pirate brig, where was she?
A dark mass of rocks lay at the northern part of the entrance to the harbour. Over them the sea broke furiously; and amid the masses of foam which flew high into the air was the black hull of a vessel, with shattered masts and spars heaving up amid the breakers; while from the centre of it, as if striving with the waves which should most speedily destroy it, bright flames were bursting forth and raging furiously. As we gazed with horror at the dreadful spectacle, feeling our compassion excited rather for our hapless countryman, whom we believed to be on board, than for the ruthless wretches who formed her crew, there was a loud explosion, and fragments of wreck, and what had once been human beings, were thrown up into the air; and by the time they had again fallen into the foaming water, no portion of the rover remained to show where she just had been.
We were now about a quarter of a mile from the bar, and not a moment was to be lost in deciding what was to be done, whether we were to bring-up or to attempt to cross. In the line of breakers which rolled over the bar, a spot was observed where the water was smoother, and which the captain knew to be the deepest channel.
“We may run out there without fear, light as we are; and if we remain, these Mohammedan fanatics will certainly revenge themselves on us for the destruction of their friends,” he observed to Mr Carr, who agreed with him that the attempt should be made, though far from free of risk. And most people, indeed, would have agreed that the passage was hazardous in the extreme, but yet no one on board doubted that it was the right thing to do.
The second mate, who was at the helm with another steady hand, was ordered to steer towards the opening. The tide was still running in strong, which gave us greater command over the vessel than would have otherwise been the case. All hands were at their stations, and every one of us knew the position we were in. A shift of wind, the least carelessness, the carrying away a spar or rope, might bring upon us the same fate which had destroyed the rover. Scarcely had the determination I have mentioned been arrived at, when, as I was looking out ahead, I saw on the starboard-bow a spar floating in the water. I looked again; a man was holding on to it, and drifting up towards us. I was certain I saw him lift up his hand and wave it. I immediately reported the circumstance to the captain.
“Although he is probably one of those wretched Moors, he is a fellow-creature, and it is our duty to try and save him,” he observed. “About-ship! helm a-lee!” he sung out.
The brig, under her topsails, worked like a top, and we had ample room to put her about and heave her to. Just as we had done so, the spar came drifting up close to us. Again the man clinging to it waved his hand. His unshorn head of light curling hair showed that he was no Moor.