The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Is such really the case?” exclaimed the lieutenant.

“Iss, massa; dey cut my troat ’cause I free gentleman, but I hide away and pull off in de boat, and so I ’scape.”

The black spoke so positively that the lieutenant, not thinking it prudent to venture alone, lest some of the insurgent slaves might be in the neighbourhood, called up his men and proceeded along the road the fisherman had pointed out, till he reached a house embosomed in trees. The doors were open, but no one came forth. He entered. Marks of blood were on the floor, and an odour of burning pervaded the building. Going along the passage, he found that the fisherman’s statement was too true. At the further end of a room lay on the ground the bodies of a white man, a brown young woman, and two children cruelly mangled, while in another room were some extinguished torches, showing that the murderers had intended to set the house on fire, but had suddenly retreated without effecting their purpose. As it was important to return immediately to the ship, he could make no further examination of the building. It had apparently been the residence of a small proprietor. The garden and neighbouring fields, though trampled down, had evidently been carefully cultivated. He hurried back to the beat, passing the fisherman’s hut on his way.

“I told you so, massa,” said the man quite coolly. “Worse tings happen in other places.”

“You did indeed speak the truth,” answered the lieutenant, his heart sinking as he thought of the danger to which Ellen and her father might be exposed.

On reaching the ship he informed the commander of the dreadful state of affairs, and recommended that they should stand along the coast and make further inquiries at the towns and forts near the shore. In the last letter he had received from Ellen, she had told him that she was residing at a house some way further to the westward, but its exact position he had been unable to ascertain, and he could not find it marked on the chart.

A fresh and favourable breeze blowing, the ship soon came off Fort Maria, when she hove to, and he—this time having Gerald with him, and accompanied by another boat, of which Crowhurst had the command—pulled on shore. As they approached the fort, the appearance it presented excited their fears that the fisherman’s report was likely to prove too true. The flag and staff had vanished, and no sentries were to be seen on the ramparts, while in the centre rose a mass of blackened walls. The guns peering through the embrasures commanded the landing-place, but, as the fort was evidently deserted, the boats pulled in, and the lieutenant and his companions at once leaped on shore. They made their way up a steep path which led to the rear of the fort. The gates were open, and they hurried in. A fearful sight met their gaze. Every building within had been set on fire and gutted. Amid the mass of charred timber lay numerous bodies, apparently, as far as their dreadful condition enabled the party to judge, of white men—some in the dress of civilians, while the half-destroyed uniforms showed that others had been soldiers. Two, from the broken swords still grasped in their hands, were apparently officers, who had fought their way out of the building, which had been the mess-room of the fort, and had been shot or cut down by the savages. A few bodies of blacks were seen, evidently from their dresses the officers’ servants, who had been waiting at table. The general state of the fort told its own story. The whole garrison and several visitors had, not dreaming of danger, been suddenly surprised by an overwhelming body of insurgents, who must have rushed in and massacred them before the soldiers could stand to their arms. If any white people in the neighbourhood had escaped with their lives, they must have gone away and not dared to return to the scene of the catastrophe.

The lieutenant and the midshipmen climbed to the highest part of the fort, and looked round in every direction. Nowhere could they see a human being, but in the distance they observed several blackened spaces where flourishing sugar-canes had lately grown or gardens or other plantations had existed. The fisherman’s account was thus fearfully verified. As no one could be seen from whom to gain further information, Mr Foley and his companions re-embarked, and pulled back for the ship as fast as the men could lay their backs to the oars. The commander thought of landing the marines and a party of small-arms men, but, without further information, it would be impossible to know in what direction to proceed.

The boats being hoisted in, the sails were again filled, and the ship stood on to the westward as close to the shore as the master would venture to take her. Every telescope on board was turned towards it, no one looking out more eagerly than Norman Foley, who dreaded lest they should come in sight of a once pleasant mansion now reduced to a mass of ruins. If a well-garrisoned fort had been surprised and thus fearfully destroyed, what might not have happened in the event of a single planter’s house with small means of defence being attacked. He very naturally conjured up all sorts of dreadful pictures; at the same time, he manfully tried to combat his apprehensions, and to hope for the best.

“I see some one on the shore, sir, making a signal,” cried Gerald, who had a telescope to his eye. “He appears to me to be a white man. He is running up and down, seemingly trying to attract our attention. There he is now, under that tall cocoa-nut tree.”