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

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Owen thanked his followers for their kind expressions towards him, but he severely felt the loss of his mates and the rest of the crew, besides that of his ship, while he could not look forward with much hope to the future. He was very doubtful, also, how O’Harrall might treat him. He knew too well the savage and lawless character of the man, who, though he had saved his life, might at any moment, in a fit of passion, turn upon him and his other prisoners; and although he might withhold his hand from killing him, would without compunction put the others to death. For the present, however, their lives were probably safe; and Owen resolved to follow the pirate’s advice and remain in the cabin until summoned to leave it. He could judge by the sounds on deck that the pirate crew were engaged in repairing the damages the Ouzel Galley had received. After this he heard the order given to make sail, and he found by a small compass in the cabin that the ship was standing to the eastward.

After some time O’Harrall himself entered the cabin. “I was compelled to take your ship, Massey,” he said, “and now I have got her I am equally obliged to keep her; but I repeat to you that your life and the lives of the two Irishmen are safe, provided you remain below. The black runs no risk from my people, and he may go on deck and make himself useful. He will act as your steward, and bring you your meals while you remain on board. I intend to take command of the Ouzel Galley, so that I shall be able to look after you till you are put on shore.”

Owen was not inclined, it may be supposed, for conversation; while O’Harrall had matters to attend to on deck. He therefore, having sent Pompey there, soon left the cabin. After some time the black returned with a substantial meal, which he had prepared by O’Harrall’s orders.

Night came on, and the ship still continued her course. Owen’s only hope was that she might be sighted by some man-of-war and recaptured. This hope, however, was but slight. The pirates were likely to be wary, and they would take care to keep away from any strange sail. The wind was light, and the Ouzel Galley made but slow progress. Owen recollected that the pirate ship was in company. O’Harrall, when he came occasionally into the cabin, showed no inclination to give him any information.

Another and another day went by, and Owen began to lose all hope of being retaken; still, as long as the ship was at sea, there was a probability of this occurring.

“Suppose we are chased—won’t the pirates be after cutting all our throats, sure?” suggested Tim, who was more out of spirits than either Owen or Dan.

Owen could not help thinking that such might be the case; yet if the Ouzel Galley were to be recaptured, notwithstanding the injury O’Harrall had done him, he determined to plead for his life. Not that he could perceive a single good quality in the man, except his undaunted bravery, and he himself felt grateful to him for saving his his life, though it was done in return for his twice having saved O’Harrall’s.

On the morning of the fourth day the wind freshened, and the ship made better progress. Towards evening, Owen and his fellow-prisoners could distinctly hear the roar of breakers. Occasionally the loud voice of O’Harrall, issuing his orders, reached their ears. The ship rose and fell several times as if passing over a bar, then Owen felt that she was gliding on through perfectly calm water. He heard the orders for shortening sail; still she continued her course for some distance, till the anchor was dropped and all movement ceased. He could have no doubt that she had entered a harbour, the rendezvous of the pirates, where they would consider themselves safe from attack, and that his chances of escape were now likely to be small indeed. The Ouzel Galley had been some time at anchor when O’Harrall entered the cabin.

“I have made arrangements for you and the two Irishmen to live on shore,” he said; “the black can attend on you, and you must make the best of the circumstances in which you are placed. As to your escaping, that is out of the question, so I will not go through the ceremony of taking your word that you will not make the attempt. As to the future, I can say nothing. If I can prudently at any time set you at liberty, I will do so, although when that may be is more than I can at present say. You are at liberty to take with you your clothing, and any books you may require for your amusement. I have obtained that favour for you. According to our laws, every article on board the ship is public property, and must be divided accordingly. I will accompany you on shore as soon as it is dark. In the mean time, you can employ yourself in putting your things together, and taking farewell of the old ship. I little supposed when I was before on board that I should one day find myself her commander.”

O’Harrall spoke the last sentence in a somewhat ironical tone, and, without further remark, left the cabin. It was already dark, and Dan had lighted the lamp which hung from the deck above when O’Harrall returned.