Peter the Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

I think I said that there were some sails, and two or three cloaks, apparently thrown by chance at the bottom of the boat. While all hands were engaged in attending to the strangers, and for some minutes no one had looked towards the schooner, on a sudden I heard a loud grating sound—there was the wild triumphant cry of a hundred fierce voices. The seemingly exhausted men leaped to their feet; the helmsman and our captain lay prostrate by blows dealt by our treacherous foes; the second mate and several of the men were knocked down; and before any of us had time to attempt even any defence of the brig, a set of desperadoes, of all colours and nations, were swarming down on her decks from the rigging of the schooner, while others, who had been concealed in the boat, sprang on board on the lee side. Never was a surprise more complete, or treachery more vile. In an instant we were helplessly in the power of as lawless a band of pirates as ever infested those seas. The captain and mates were first pinioned; the men were sharing the same treatment. I was at the time forward, when, on looking aft, who should I see but Captain Hawk himself walking the deck of the brig as if he were her rightful commander! He took off his hat with mock courtesy to poor Captain Searle, as he passed him. “Ah, my dear sir, the fortune of war makes you my prisoner to-day,” he said, in a sneering tone. “Another day, if my people do not insist on your walking the plank, you may hope, perhaps, to have the satisfaction of beholding me dangling at a yardarm. By the bye, I owe you this turn, for you shipped on board your craft a lad who had engaged to sail with me; and I must have him forthwith back again, with a few other articles of your cargo which I happen to require.” As he said this, his eye fell on me, and he beckoned me towards him. I saw that there was no use hanging back, so I boldly advanced. “You are a pretty fellow, to desert your colours,” he continued, laughing. “You deserve to be treated as a deserter. However, I will have compassion on your youth, if you will swear to be faithful to me in future.”

“I never joined your vessel, so I am not a deserter. I cannot swear to serve a man of whose character I know nothing, except that he has taken forcible possession of a peaceable trader.” I said this without hesitation or the least sign of fear. The truth is, I felt too desperate to allow myself to consider what I said or did.

“You are a brave young bantam,” he answered laughingly. “And though all the rest may hang or walk the plank, we will save you to afford us sport; so set your mind at rest on that point.”

“Thank you for my life, for I have no wish to lose it, I can assure you,” I replied; “but don’t suppose I am going to spend it in your service. I shall do my best to get away from you as soon as possible.”

“Then we must tie you by a lanyard to the leg,” he answered, without at all appearing angry. “Here, Mark Anthony,”—he beckoned to a tall, ill-looking black who had been busy in securing the rest of the crew,—“take charge of this youngster, and render an account of him to me by and by, without a hair of his head injured, mind you.”

“Yes, sare,” said the Roman general, who I afterwards found was a runaway slave from Kentucky. “I’ll not singe his whiskers even. Come here, massa;” and seizing me by the shoulder, he dragged me forward away from the rest of the people. “What’s your name?” asked my black keeper, as he made me sit down on the bits of the bowsprit.

“Peter, at your service, Mr Mark Anthony,” said I in as fearless a voice as I could command; for having once taken a line of conduct which seemed to answer well, I determined to persevere in it.

“Den, Massa Peter, you sit dere quiet,” he said with a grin. “I no break your skull, because Captain Hawk break mine if I do. I no let anybody else hurt you for same reason.”

From his look and voice I certainly did not flatter myself that he refrained from throwing me overboard from any love he bore me; but, on the contrary, that he would have been much more gratefully employed in making me walk the plank, or in tricing me up to the foreyard.

Meantime the pirates were busily employed in ransacking the vessel, and in transferring everything of value to them which they could find from her to their own schooner. The captain and mates were threatened with instant death if they did not deliver up all the money they had on board; and even the crew were compelled to hand over to our captors the small sums they possessed. To make them do this, they were knocked about and beaten unmercifully. And even those who possessed watches and rings were deprived of them, as well as of any clothes which appeared worth taking.