The Pirate of the Mediterranean: A Tale of the Sea

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Who is it?” hailed another person, apparently on shore.

“Gerasimo Listi,” answered the watch on the Sea Hawk’s deck.

“No, no, the old fellow lies drunk at home!” exclaimed the second speaker. “Treachery, treachery. They are the spies endeavouring to escape.”

“It is hopeless to deceive them,” said Captain Vassilato, when he heard these words, which he translated to his companions as he resumed his seat and oar. “We must pull for our lives; we have a good start, and it may be some time before any boats’ crews can be collected to pursue us.”

It is needless to say with what energy all hands bent to their oars—concealment was of no further use, and they were able to put their whole strength into their strokes. There was no time to be lost. The brig was swinging with her broadside across the mouth of the harbour, and as soon as those on her deck could procure matches, they rushed to the guns, and discharged them in quick succession; and Ada could scarcely restrain a shriek of terror as she saw their bright flashes lighting up the mouth of the harbour—the sides and rigging of the vessel now crowded with people—and heard their loud report echoing among the cliffs, as also the rushing noise of the shot as they came flying by—some over their heads, some close astern, and others ahead of them; for though the pirates’ aim was very uncertain, yet, as from the narrow entrance of the bay, the only shot which could reach them must come between the cliffs, they could not go far distant from them. One or two, apparently, from the peculiar noise they made, hit the cliffs, and rebounded back into the bay. Marianna, whose fears had completely overcome her, crouched down at the bottom of the boat, where she thought she should be more secure; and Fleetwood entreated Ada in that respect to follow her example, desiring Jack Raby to place her as low down as possible, where a shot was less likely to strike the boat. Though she was unwilling to be more sheltered from danger than he was, yet she saw that her so doing would relieve him from some of his fear for her safety, and she complied with his wishes; reclining on some jackets and cloaks which Jack Raby spread out for her, she saw no more of what took place, though the noise of the firing soon ceasing told her that they had shut in the brig by the western cliffs.

“Remain where you are, dearest,” said Fleetwood, as she was about to rise. “We may still have some shot sent after us, when the boats, which will probably pursue us, get outside; and though, with the start we have, they are not likely to take good aim, a fatal one may come on board; and think, Ada, of how little use would be the risk we have run, if you were to be the victim. But do not be alarmed; no enemy has yet approached.”

I do not know if I have explained clearly the position of the boat: she was at this time about an eighth of a mile from the lofty cliffs which formed the western side of the bay, with her head to the west, going at the rate of between four and five knots an hour, which was the utmost speed with which, with all their exertions, they could urge her through the water. The cleft in the rock, as now the entrance of the harbour appeared to be, was seen over their starboard quarter, and in that direction their eyes were anxiously turned for the appearance of the boats they fully expected would follow them. A new danger also appeared from a quarter they had not expected, for along the summit of the cliffs, as seen against the bright blue sky, they could discern some figures running at full speed, and they were not left long in doubt as to their intentions. The persons halted, and the bright barrels of their guns gleamed in the moonlight, as they brought them to their shoulders and fired. Several balls flew by them, and one struck the gunnel of the boat, though, fortunately, no other damage was done. The pirates kept shouting out their threats of vengeance, and firing away, apparently to intimidate the fugitives, little understanding the character of the people with whom they had to deal.

Here, of course, Ada was exposed to as much danger as the rest; and though Fleetwood would have joyfully interposed his own person to preserve her, it was impossible for him to do so, and all he could do was to entreat her to remain down as much as possible under the seat, and to redouble his efforts at the oar.

“We shall soon be beyond the range of those fellows’ guns!” he exclaimed. “But ah, there’s a boat’s bow creeping out from between the rocks. We’ve a good start of her, however. Give way, gentlemen. We’ll lead her a long chase, and find her a warm reception at the end of it, I hope.”

“She’s not alone, though!” exclaimed Bowse, whose eyesight was remarkably keen. “There’s another close astern of her, and, by heaven, there’s another just rounding the point. We shall have enough of them to look after us, at all events.”