The Three Midshipmen

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Just at that moment the sound of firearms coming from a distance was heard, borne faintly on the wind through an opening in the mangrove bushes. Shot after shot followed. “The other boat must have fallen in with some of the rascals; the two channels cannot be far apart,” exclaimed Mr Hemming. “Give way, my lads, give way.”

He could not help in his eagerness saying this, although the men were already pulling as hard as they could. He was eagerly looking about all the time for some passage through which they might get to the assistance of their comrades. The boat dashed on up the river, and very soon they came in sight of a schooner moored close to the bank of a small creek. They were quickly up to her and mounting her sides. No one opposed them, and not a human being was to be seen. There were, however, evident signs that people had only just left her. A stage of planks led from her deck to the shore. Her sails were bent, her anchor stowed, she was in perfect readiness for sea. A hurried glance below showed that she was undoubtedly a slaver, and about probably that very day to receive her human cargo on board. In her hold were leaguers or huge water-casks filled with water; a large supply of wood and provisions, especially of farina, on which slaves are chiefly fed. Then there was the slave-deck, scarcely thirty-six inches in height, and large coppers for boiling the slaves’ food, and some hundred pairs of slave irons or manacles for confining their legs or arms; indeed, nothing was wanting to condemn her. Although Hemming guessed that the crew would soon be back, he was so eager to go to the assistance of Mr Evans, that leaving Murray and a couple of men on board the schooner, he leaped again into his boat and pulled up the creek, thinking that he might get through it into the other channel. It narrowed, however, very rapidly. The trees grew closer and closer together till the branches touched, and finally arched so much overhead as to shut out the view of the sky. It was almost evident that there could not be a navigable passage into the other stream, and Hemming felt that he was not doing a prudent thing in thus pushing on into what might prove not only a hornets’ nest, but a hornets’ trap, where he and those whose lives were entrusted to him might be stung to death without the power of defending themselves. Still he did not like to abandon his purpose. To push over land would be still more dangerous. The question about proceeding was settled for him. The boat, although in mid-channel, ran her stem into the mud. With a falling tide it would have been madness to proceed farther.

“Back all!” cried the lieutenant.

There was barely room for the oars between the two banks. It seemed doubtful, at first, whether the boat could be shoved off. Delay in this case, as it is in many others, was dangerous. Paddy Adair and several of the men on this instantly leaped out, but sank very nearly up to their middles in slime and water. With their weight, however, out of her the boat floated, and the rest standing up and shoving at the same time, they got her a little way down the stream. Paddy, who was always ready to do anything, however unpleasant, for the sake of setting an example, continued in the water shoving the boat along; the black banks on either side showing the importance of getting out of the trap into which they had gone as quickly as possible.

“Jump in Adair—jump in—she’ll freely swim now,” said Hemming.

“We’ll just get her past this log of wood and give her a shove off from it,” said Paddy, making a spring on a dark brown object close to them. He jumped off again, however, very much faster, and sprang towards the boat, for the seeming log opened a huge pair of jaws, exhibiting a terrific row of teeth, with which it made a furious snap at the midshipman’s legs. Happily Mr Hemming, leaning over, caught him by the arm and dragged him in, while one of the men gave the monster a rap with the end of his oar, which somewhat distracted his attention, and allowed the rest of the men to scramble on board, which they did in a very great hurry, and no little consternation exhibited in their looks. The alligator first vented his rage by gnawing the blade of the oar, and then made a terrific rush at the boat.

“Shove away, my lads—shove away,” cried Hemming, not wishing to waste time in a contest with the beast.

The men, standing up, urged on the boat with their oars as fast as they could; but the savage brute still followed, biting at the blades and trying to get in between them. Terence, however, who very speedily recovered from his alarm, seized a musket, and, watching for the moment when the alligator next opened his huge mouth, fired right down it.

“A hard pill that to digest, if it does not kill him,” cried Paddy, when he had done the deed.

At first the brute seemed scarcely aware that anything unusual had gone down his throat; but, as he was making another dart at the boat, he suddenly began to move about in an eccentric way—as Paddy said, “as if something troubled him in his inside,” and then, turning away, buried his huge body in the mud, while his tail lashed the water into foam. Round the spot above where his head was probably hidden, a red circle was formed, which, whirling round in the eddies of the current, came sweeping past the boat, proving that Adair’s shot had not failed to take effect. Well content to get thus easily rid of their unpleasant antagonist, the men shaved the boat on rapidly down the creek. They had not quite come in sight of the slave schooner when a shout reached their ears. It was repeated. It sounded like a cry for help.