LEONARD LINDSAY
OR
THE STORY OF A BUCCANEER

BY

ANGUS B. REACH

“No Peace beyond the Line.”—Old Sailors Proverb

LONDON

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS

The Broadway, Ludgate

NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET

CONTENTS.

LEONARD LINDSAY;

OR,

THE STORY OF A BUCCANEER.

CHAPTER I.
OF MY BOYHOOD, AND HOW, BEING CAST AWAY AT SEA, I AM
CARRIED TO THE WEST INDIES AGAINST MY WILL.

It was in the fair sunlight of a May morning, in the year of Grace 1672, that that great brave ship, the Golden Grove of Leith, hoisted her broad sails, with many a fluttering pendant and streamer above them, and stood proudly down the Firth of Forth, designing to reach the open ocean, not far from the hill, well known to mariners by the name of the North Berwick Law. On board of the Golden Grove, I, Leonard Lindsay, then in my twenty-second year, was, you must know, a sailor, and I hope a bold one. My father was a fisherman, and, as I may say, his coble was my cradle. Many a rough rocking in truth it bestowed upon me, for it was his use even before I could go alone, to carry me with him a fishing, wrapped up, it may be, in a tattered sail, while my mother, with a creel upon her back, journeyed through the landward towns, and to the houses of the gentry, to sell the spoil of hook and net.

We fared hard and worked hard; for no more industrious folk lived in the fisher-town of Kirk Leslie, a pleasant and goodly spot, lying not far from the East Neuk of Fife, than old Davie Lindsay and Jess, his wife and my mother. Many a weary night and day have come and gone since I beheld that beach whereon I was born; but I can yet shut my eyes and see our cottage and our boat—called the “Royal Thistle”—rocking at the lee of the long rough pier of unhewn whinstone, gathered from the wild muirs around, which ran into the sea and sheltered the little fisher harbour, formed by the burn of Balwearie, where it joins the waters of its black pools to the salt brine. Opposite our house was a pretty green bourock, as we called it, that is to say, a little hill, mostly of bright green turf, with bunches of bent and long grass, which rustled with a sharp sad sound when the east wind blew snell, and creeping cosily into the chimney neuk, we would listen to the roaring of the sea. But the bourock was oftentimes brown with nets or with wet sails stretched there to dry, and below it there lay half-buried in the sand, old boats, mouldering away and masts and oars all shivered, bleaching like big bones in the sun and the rain.

I remember old Davie Lindsay my father well. He was a stern, big man, with a grisly grey beard, shaved but once a month. No fisher on the coast had a surer hand for the tiller, or a firmer gripe to haul aft the sheet of the lugsail in a fresh breeze and a gathering sea. Often when we were rising and falling on the easterly swell, half-a-score miles from Kirk Leslie pier, he loved to tell me old-world tales and sing old-world songs of the sea. Then would he recount how the Rover sunk the bell which good abbot Ignatius, of Aberbrothwick, caused to be placed upon the wild Bell Rock, as a guide to poor mariners; and how the pirate dreed the weird—that is, underwent the fate—he had prepared for himself, and was lost with ship and crew on that very reef. Sometimes, too, he would drop his voice, and when I came close to him, he would speak of great monsters in the sea; of the ocean snake, whose head looked up at the bridge of Stirling, and whose tail went nine times round the Bass; of singing mermaids, who come upon the yellow sands at night, and beguile men with their false lays, till they leave house and home, being bewitched by the glamour of elfin palaces under the brine; and, most terrible of all, of phantom ships with crews of ghosts, which sailors see by the pale glimmerings of the moon, when it shines through the driving scud, upon a mirk midnight and a roaring sea. But, then, if I was frightened and cried, my father would straightway change the theme, and burst out with a strong clear voice into some loud fishing-song, or, what I loved better still, into some brave, ancient ballad, about the fair kingdom of Scotland, and its gallant kings and stalwart knights; and of such, my favourite was the lay of Sir Patrick Spens, for he was both a knight and a sailor.

“The king sits in Dunfermline town,

Drinking the blude-red wine,

O whare will I get a skeely skipper

To sail this ship of mine?

“Then up and spake an eldern knight,

Sat at the king’s right knee,

Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor

That ever sailed the sea.”

Oh, I can yet hear my father’s strong voice rising over the dash of the water and the moan of the wind, as he sung the brave voyage of Sir Patrick to Norroway, to bring home the king’s daughter; but his tones would sink and grow hoarse and low, when he chanted the storm, and the perishing of all the fair company on the voyage home.

“O forty mile off Aberdeen

’Tis fifty fathom deep,

And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,

Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet.”

My father’s long home was also the bottom of the sea. One wild March day, the coble left Kirk Leslie pier without me. I staid at home mending a dredge-net with my mother. The easterly har was on the coast, that is to say, thick cold mists and a keen wind. As the sun rose high so did the tempest; we could see nought seaward, for the grey fog was out upon the water, but every wave came white, over and over the pier, from end to end. My mother went to and fro, wan, and praying to herself; as indeed did many another fisher-wife, for they had great cause. The night was awful. I sat cowering beside my mother, who was rocking herself on a settle with her apron over her head; or now and then stole down to the beach, to where men stood with lanterns upon masts to show the harbour mouth to the poor folks at sea. Three boats, with crews pale and worn, made the land before the day; an hour after dawn our coble came tossing to the outside belt of the surf—but she was bottom upwards.

In a month after this, my mother and I went to her father’s, a very old man, and a reverend elder of the kirk. He sent me to school to Dominie Buchanan, a learned carle, who by his own account behoved to be of the race of the great Geordie Buchanan, of whom they tell merry tales, which surely are idle and false, for he was a severe, grave man, and handled the tawse unmercifully, as his royal pupil, gentle King Jamie, could in his time well testify. At school I was diligent, and pleased master and friends.

Afterwards, up to my sixteenth year, I went much a fishing in the boat of Saunders Draugglefute, my maternal uncle, when desiring to see more of my country than could be descried in our furthest voyages between Kirk Leslie pier and the deep-sea fisheries at the back of the Isle of May, I made many coasting trips, for the space of near five years, in the stout brig Jean Livingstone, belonging to Kirkaldy, during which time I twice visited the Thames and the city of London; plying also once each year with a great cargo of herrings to Antwerp, in the Low Countries. But still I wished to see the world further from home, and to this intent preferred rather to go on board the Golden Grove of Leith, as a common sailor, than to be mate of the Jean Livingstone, a promotion which was offered me by John Swanson, skipper and part owner of the brig.

The reason of my coming to think of the Golden Grove was, that the Jean Livingstone having a cargo of goods from Yarmouth to Edinburgh, lay while they were delivered close by the great ship, then preparing at the foot of Leith Wynd for a voyage to Italy, and from thence to divers ports on the Moorish side of the Mediterranean sea. Now Italy was a land which I had long wished to behold, as being once the seat of that great people the Romans, some knowledge of the poetry and philosophy of whom, the worthy Dominie Buchanan had not failed to instil into me, but which I ofttimes felt with pain to be fast fading from my mind. Indeed, I must tell you that it is to the exertions of that learned man that this narrative is altogether owing, for he, seeing, as he was pleased to say, a more congenial soil in my mind for the seeds of his instructions than was presented by the other fisher-boys, took great pains to imbue me with a love for the humanities, which has not deserted me entirely unto this day. After much pondering upon my prospects, I therefore finally made up my mind to offer myself on board of the Golden Grove, which I did, and was accepted without more ado. My friends would have me pause and think of the dangers of unknown coasts, and pirates and robbers of the sea, but I knew Captain John Coxon, of the Golden Grove, to be a stout and experienced seaman, and one who was readily trusted with rich freights—while as to freebooters, when I looked upon the array of culverins, demi-culverins, and falconets ranged upon the decks, and also the show of carabines and patterreroes placed about the masts, with many stout fellows to man and wield them, I felt we could bid defiance to any rover who ever sailed out of Sallee.

Therefore, to make a long story short, we completed our cargo, took in provisions and water, and, as has been said, on a fine May morning, I do not remember the exact day, sailed. The wind was so fair that by even-fall we saw St. Abb’s Head.

And here at the outset of what was to me so adventurous a voyage, I would describe my captain and my shipmates, as well as the stout vessel herself, the latter being indeed a brave craft, with top-gallant forecastle and high poop, surmounted by three great lanterns; but, as the reader will shortly perceive, the Golden Grove and I soon parted company, and I never saw either her or any of her crew again.

We carried the fair north wind with us all along the English coast, until passing through the straits of Dover, we bade farewell to the white cliffs. Then in two days’ time we saw upon the larboard bow great rocks which form the cape called La Hogue, in France, and passing to the westward of the island of Guernsey, sighted the little isle of Ushant lying off the port of Brest, where the French maintain fleets and great naval stores. Hereabouts the wind changed, veering round to the westward, and speedily rolling in upon us billows so vast that we could well discern that we were no longer in the narrow seas, but exposed to the great strength and fierceness of the Atlantic or Western ocean. Notwithstanding, however, we made good progress; the breeze was not steady but blew in squalls, making it often necessary to hand topsails, and raising great seething seas around us, over which the Golden Grove rode very gallantly. At nightfall, on the eighth day of our voyage, we lost sight of Ushant and entered into the great Bay of Biscay. The sea here runs exceedingly high, tumbling in to the shore in great ridges of blue water; but with a stout ship, well manned, the nature of the waves is not so dangerous as that of the short, boiling surges in the North Sea. And now I come to the accident which so sadly determined my lot for many a day.

On the morning of either the 13th or the 14th of May the weather was squally and unsettled, and the sea irregular and high. About eight o’clock, looking forth to windward, I saw a great blackness in the sky, which I took to be the prelude of a gust of no common strength. At the same moment, the mate of the watch ordered the topmen aloft to hand the topsails, we carrying at the moment no higher canvas. My station was upon the leeward fore-topsail yard-arm, and as I clung by the man-ropes to the great creaking pieces of timber, grasping the fluttering canvas of the sail, I thought I had never seen a finer sight than the great rolling ship below, wallowing and labouring in the white foaming seas, which would sometimes strike her and pour heavy masses of clear green water in a flood over the decks. When we were securing the sail, the motion aloft was very great, we being violently swung from side to side in such wise as might well make giddy even the grizzled head of an old mariner. Meantime, the gust to windward was coming fast; the blackness increased, and a rushing sound, as of the chariot wheels of a host, rose above the rude clamour of the sea. Then, amid great showers of flying brine, which it drove before it, the fierce wind struck the Golden Grove bodily over upon her side. At the same instant, I heard a hoarse voice below summoning the men from the yards down upon deck; but as I was about to obey, the tempest grew terrible. There were great clouds of mist above me, through which I could see nought below but the white patches of waves breaking over the strong bulwarks of the ship. Suddenly the canvas, which had not been quite secured, was torn open, as it were, with a loud screech by the wind, and flapped and banged so that I felt the very mast shake and quiver violently, while I received rude blows from the loose and flying ropes, insomuch as, being half blinded by that and the pelting of the brine, I shut my eyes, and bending down my head grasped the yard firmly in my arms. I might have remained thus three or four seconds, when I heard the loud howl of the wind suddenly increase to a sort of eldritch scream. In a moment, the mast gave two violent jerks, and with the third I heard five or six sounding twangs like the breaking of harp-strings, and immediately a crashing of wood. Then, still clinging to the yard, I was hurried with a mighty rush through the air, and suddenly plunged down into the choking brine, which rose all gurgling over my head, and I knew at the same time that the Golden Grove had carried away her fore-topmast, and that I was overboard in the boiling sea.

By instinct, I suppose, I struggled so to climb upon the floating wreck as to get my head and shoulders above water. Then I saw that I was alone in my misery. I have said that my station was at the outer end of the yard, and I conceive that my shipmates must have gained the top, and from thence, I hoped, the deck. But as for me, I saw nought but speedy drowning for my fate. The seas rose in great foaming peaks and pyramids around me, and the wind drove drenching showers from the crests of the waves down into the hollows. All around gloomy clouds passed swiftly, torn by the squall, but the pitchy darkness which showed where its strength lay, was far down to leeward, and looking thereat as I rose upon a higher sea than common, I faintly descried the ship in a crippled plight, but having managed to put her helm up so as to scud before the storm. She was already near a league away, and leaving me fast; so that the bitterness of death rose up in my very heart. For a moment I thought I might as well die at once, and letting go my hold of the spars, I allowed myself to sink backward into the sea. But God has wisely made man to love life with a clinging love, and to grapple with death as with a grim enemy. Therefore, as the water closed above me, and I felt suffocating, I could not help making a struggle, which soon replaced me on my desolate seat on the floating wreck. I looked at the spars, and saw that the topmast had broken only about a foot beneath the place to which the yard had been lowered. Nearly the whole of the foretop and the top-gallant masts of the Golden Grove, with the fragments of the foretopsail, which had been rent almost into ribbons, and the yard to which they were fastened lay therefore in the sea. I clambered in from the end of the yard, and took up my position where the mast and it crossed each other; making myself fast thereto with one of the numerous ends of broken rope which abounded, and for near an hour sat dismal and almost broken-hearted, unheedful of how the waves tossed me to and fro, or how they sometimes burst over and almost stifled me. I was somewhat roused by a feeling of warmth, and looking abroad saw that the clouds had broken, and that the sun was shining brightly on the sea. The wind was also abated, and the waves not combing so violently, I was more at ease. Then I heard that terrible sound—the sound of the sea alone—which no one who has listened to save he who has swam far from any vessel, or who, like myself, has clung to a driving spar. On the beach you hear the surf, where the waves burst upon rock or sand; on shipboard you hear the dashing of the billows on counter and prow; and, above them all, the sigh of the wind and the groaning of timbers and masts. But to hear the sea alone, you must be alone upon the sea. I will tell you of the noise: it is as of a great multitudinous hiss, rising universally about you—the buzz of the fermenting and yeasty waves. There are no deep, hollow rumblings; except for that hissing, seething sound, the great billows rise and sink in silence; and you look over a tumbling waste of blue or green water, all laced, and dashed, and variegated with a thousand stripes, and streaks, and veins of white glancing froth, which embroider, as it were with lace, the dark masses of heaving and falling ocean. Hearing this sound, and seeing this sight, I tossed until the sun got high and warm. I felt no very poignant anguish, for my soul was clothed, as it were, in a species of lethargy—the livery of despair. Sometimes only I tried to pray, but thoughts and tongue would grow benumbed together.

Once, indeed, I was for a time aroused. I heard a sharp little dash in the water, and a soft quackle, as of a sea-fowl. Looking up, I descried beside me two ducks of that species which we, in the Scottish seas, called marrots; they are white on the breast and neck, and brown above, and have very bright, glancing, yellow eyes. Moreover, they dive, and use their short wings under water, as other fowls do theirs in flying. By the appearance of these creatures I knew that land was, at farthest, within two days’ sail. There—tilting gaily over each sea—they swam for hours, seeming to look at me; sometimes they would dive, but they never went far from the wreck, always coming up and riding head to wind, with their keen yellow eyes fixed as I thought upon the poor drowning mariner. They seemed tame and fearless—for, indeed, what should they dread from me? Once, in a sort of melancholy mirth, I raised my arm threateningly, but they stirred neither wing nor leg to flee, lifting over seas which would make a great man-of-war work and groan to her very keel, but which these feathered ships, built by God, could outride without a film of down being washed aside from their white breasts.

The sun having attained its zenith began to descend the westerly skies, and the afternoon was fair and warm, the wind now blowing but a summer breeze. Sometimes, when on the crest of the swell, I looked anxiously for a sail, but I saw nought save the bright horizon, against which the sharp outlines of the waves rose and fell in varying curves and ridges; so that now again I resigned myself to death, and covering my face with my hands, I, as it were, moaned, rather than sung inwardly to myself, many verses of psalms, which, when I was but a little child, I had repeated at my mother’s knee. Meantime, I began to feel a stiffening and a heavy drowsiness over all my limbs and upon my soul. When I opened my eyes the heaving waters turned into divers colours before my sight, so that I knew that my brain was wandering, and that my soul was departing. Howbeit, a holy tranquillity came down upon me. The blue sea appeared to melt away, and I saw—but dimly—the green bourock and the sweet soft swarded links of the Balwearie burn, with the brown herring nets drying on the windy grass. The place seemed holy and still; the sun was hot, and none were stirring, and presently I knew it was a summer’s sabbath day, for from out the open windows of the grey old kirk there came a low sound of psalmody, and I heard, as it were, in my brain, the voices of the congregation, as they sang—

“In Judah’s land God is well known,

His name in Israel’s great,

In Salem is his tabernacle,

In Zion is his seat.”

After this, there came on me silence and darkness, I having gradually fallen into a fit or trance.

I was roused by rude shocks and pulls, and a confused clamour of voices. Opening my eyes with effort, I saw surging upon the broken water, close to the spars, a ship’s boat with men, one of whom—he who rowed the boat oar—had grasped the collar of my sea doublet, and was hauling me into the pinnace, in which effort he succeeded, ere I could well make out whereabouts I was. At the same time several voices asked, in two different languages, what was my name and country, and how I came there. Now, of both of these tongues I had some smattering, the one being French and the other Low Dutch, of which I had heard and picked up somewhat in my several voyages up the river Scheldt to Antwerp.

I therefore, trying to muster my senses, replied truthfully that my name was Leonard Lindsay—that I was a Scotsman, a mariner of the ship Golden Grove, of Leith, wherefrom I had fallen overboard, the spar to which I clung having been, as, indeed, they might perceive, blown away in tempestuous weather.

At this they consulted in a low tone amongst themselves. They were all seafaring men, mostly very swarthy, and tanned by the sun and the wind. They wore long black hair, and silver and gold earrings, which glanced amid their greasy curls. Only two were fair and blue-eyed—namely, the men who first addressed me in Flemish or Dutch. After remaining for a brief time beside the spars, and seeming to consult as to whether they were worthy to be made a prize of, they decided in the negative, and dipping their oars into the water, rowed away, the steersman narrowly watching the run of the seas, so as to avoid being broached-to and swamped. In the meantime, I had clambered from the bottom of the boat, and looking over the bows, saw, not more than a third of a mile from us, a bark, which appeared to be both small and frail to contend with such a sea. The manner of her rig was new and strange to me, for she carried two masts, both very stout and short, and above them were two great supple yards, upon which was spread a good show of canvas, each sail being of that triangular form, called by the seamen who use them, lateen. In fine, the ship belonged to a port on the Mediterranean coast of France, and was of the class named feluccas.

It was necessary to approach the vessel with great caution, inasmuch as she rolled and surged excessively. We therefore came slowly up, under her lee-quarter, and a man, of very dark complexion, and the fieryest eyes I ever saw, jumped up upon the gunwale, and hailed the boat in French, but talking so rapidly, that I could make nothing of it. Then, a line having been thrown on board, it was made fast to me, and without more ado, I was soused into the sea, and dragged on board the felucca, where I lay panting on the deck, while the crew—very wild and fierce-looking sailors—amused themselves with my wretched appearance. Presently, however, the man who had hailed the boat, and who seemed to have great authority on board, came up to me, and putting the rest aside, said more deliberately than before, but still in French, and with a peculiar accent—

‘You are not, then, a Spaniard?’

I mustered my few words of French, and answered, that—‘I was not, but a Scotsman.’

Without more ado, he stooped over me, and searched my pockets. They contained some small English coins, being groats and silver pennies, and also a letter, which Captain Swanson, of the Jean Livingstone, had written to me to Leith. The sight of these things appeared to satisfy his doubts, for he spoke a few words in a kinder tone to those about him, and presently leaving me, a man dressed in a tarnished livery, like a lackey, brought me a great cup of hot distilled waters, which I greedily swallowed, and found myself comforted and refreshed. Being, however, much exhausted from the length of time which I had passed in the water, I laid me down upon a heap of sails in the forecastle, and being taken but little notice of, thanked God, inwardly, for my deliverance, and began to drop off to sleep. Only beforehand, like a sailor, I observed the course of the ship. The wind being westerly, and she being close hauled, and labouring heavily to windward, I deemed, and with truth, that her destination must be across the Atlantic. But whithersoever she went, with my then feelings, mattered little; I was saved from an early death, and grateful for my escape, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When I wakened it was dark night, and the first watch was set. As the wind, however, was now very steady, and the sea not only lower but regular, the men were mostly lying and dozing about the deck, except he that conned and he that steered. Seeing me stirring, a sailor presently came to me with a lantern in his hand, and, to my great joy, addressed me in English, asking me from whence I came, and the particulars of my disaster. Having shortly informed him, I requested that he would tell me what the ship was, which had rescued me, and what manner of treatment I might expect at the hands of the captain and crew. At first, he made as if he would put off talking of these matters, but as I was importunate, he asked me in turn, whether I had not heard of the great association of men of all nations, but principally Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Hollanders, who carried on a constant warfare with the Spaniards among the islands of the West Indies, and along the coast of Darien, sometimes even crossing that narrow neck of land, and descending with fire and sword upon Panama and other towns of the South Sea. To this I replied, that certainly I had heard of these companies, but only very partially and nothing distinctly, that they were, I supposed, the adventurers called Flibustiers or Buccaneers, and more anciently the ‘Brethren of the Coast.’ My new friend made answer moodily, that I should most probably have ample means of learning more of these Freebooters ere I put my foot on British ground again—‘That is,’ says he, ‘after you have either escaped or served your time.’

These phrases naturally threw me into great trouble, and I earnestly asked what he signified by them.

‘Why,’ he replied, ‘that you will be sold as an apprentice, or in other words, as a slave, to the French West India company, in the Isle of Tortugas, on the northern coast of Hispaniola, whither we are bound.’

At these words I grew sick at heart. ‘Better,’ I said, ‘to have allowed me drown in that sea than to have rescued me only to sell me into slavery.’

‘Not so,’ answered my companion, something sternly. ‘You are young, and have a thousand hopes before you. The Hand that miraculously preserved you this day is ever stretched out in wisdom and mercy, readier to help than to chastise.’

At this I could not avoid looking steadfastly at my Englishman; such phrases being little apt to fall from the lips of sailors. By the light of the lantern, I saw that he was a tall and stout old man, with something of great grandeur, as I thought, in his high brow and serene eyes. He could not have been much younger than sixty-five, but he was still a very strong great man, with a presence and bearing not like those of a wild sailor who has lived, as I may say, all his life with his hands in the tar-bucket. After some pause he went on to inform me, that besides himself there was no Englishman amongst the crew, and that he counted upon being safely put ashore at Tortugas, from whence he could get to Jamaica; for, as he said, he was not unknown to the hunters and privateers who frequented the former island. In reply to my entreaties, that he would endeavour to take me with him, he said it was not possible; for although the captain might consent, yet that many of the crew were greedy low fellows, who would not render up a maravedi of the profits, to which, by the articles of the voyage, it seems that they were all in some sort and in different proportions entitled.

‘But be thankful,’ said my comrade, ‘that you are not a Spaniard; for had you but a drop of the blood of that people in your veins, a speedy death would be the best fate you could hope for on board a ship commanded by Louis Montbars.’

‘Why,’ said I, ‘is he so inveterate against the people of Spain?’

‘I find,’ returned the Englishman, ‘that you do indeed know little of the adventurers of the West Indies, if you have never heard of one of the most noted captains of them all. He is a gentleman of good birth, of Languedoc in France. In his early manhood, having taken great interest in reading various relations of the barbarities committed by the Spaniards upon the ancient and inoffensive Indians, the inhabitants of the islands and the main discovered by Christopher Columbus and his coadjutors and successors, Montbars, being, like many in the South of France, a man of warm and fierce passions and feelings, made a solemn vow to God and the Virgin, that the whole of his future life should be devoted to the task of revenging upon every Spaniard who might be placed in his power the injuries received at the hands of their fathers, alike by the fierce Charibs of the islands, and the gentle Peruvians of the main. To this intent, he spent all his patrimony in fitting out a ship, in which he sailed to the West Indies, and speedily made his name so famous, and so terrible to the Spaniards, that they call him in their language, ‘The Exterminator,’ and know that they can hope for not one moment’s life after they come into his power. In general,’ pursued my informant, ‘he is grave, staid, and courteous, unless his mind run upon what I cannot but think the sort of bloody madness wherewith he is afflicted. And then, indeed, and more especially when in action with the Spaniards, he demeans himself more like a raging demon than a Christian man. He has lately had occasion to visit his native land, and I being also in Paris on my own business, and hearing that he proposed to set forth again, joined him as a mariner, but to be put ashore after the voyage at the island of Tortugas.’

This was the substance of our conversation that night After which the quartermaster came to me, and saying, he understood that I had been a fisherman in my youth, and so must needs know how to make nets; and that they were in want of some seine nets for use in the keys or small islands of the Indies, I might therefore, by making them, pay my passage. To this arrangement I very willingly acceded, and the next day had a hammock assigned to me, and set about my task of net-making, which was pleasant enough, pursued in fine weather upon the deck; although, indeed, my heart was heavy and sore with thinking of what was before me.

I soon discovered that my Englishman’s appellation, by which he was known, was Richard Wright, although that was not, indeed, as I afterwards found, his proper name. The crew were now reasonably kind to me, and the more so because Wright, whom they seemed to respect, took me in some sort under his protection, and upon the whole I found myself not ill off. The Captain mixed very familiarly with the men, as is common on board of privateers, and sometimes he would recite to them tales of the cruelties of the Spaniards to the Indians; how in Hispaniola the numbers of these latter were reduced in fifteen years from a million to sixty thousand; how the Spaniards worked them to a miserable death in the gold mines, or hunted them with blood-hounds through the mountains, feeding the dogs only upon the victims’ flesh; how the Spaniards would often kill these miserable people for mere diversion, or for wagers, or to keep their hands in, as they called it; and how many of these white savages had made a vow—ay, and kept it—that, for a certain time, they would destroy thirteen Indians every morning before breakfast, in honour of our Saviour and the twelve apostles! With such relations, and all of them I believe to be true, would Montbars seek to stir up the deadly wrath of the ship’s company against the Spaniards. But, in truth, this was a flame which required but little fanning, it being my opinion that had the Spaniards behaved like angels rather than demons, still the great body of ordinary Buccaneers would be content to treat them as the latter, so long as they possessed fair towns and rich mines ashore, and many treasure-ships and galleons at sea. Notwithstanding, however, it must be confessed that there never being a nation more proud, cruel, and arrogant than these Spanish—at least, in all that refers to their American dominions—so there never was a people more justly to be despoiled of their ill-gotten gains.

But these are considerations apart from my narrative. Our voyage was reasonably prosperous, the west wind having soon given place to more favourable breezes, and at length, but not until after many teasing calms, which delayed our progress, the first welcome farmings of the trade wind caught our sails, and we glided swiftly towards the setting sun, over the great heaving ocean swells and undulations, from whose shining sides flying fishes would leap briskly forth, and within which, the water being wondrously clear, we usually saw, on looking over the low bulwarks of the bark, swift dolphins, which swam round and round us, even when our ship was sailing three leagues an hour, and many smaller fishes, one individual of which, called by sailors a bonetta, about a foot long and of a reddish colour, swam for three days and three nights just before our cutwater, so that the men began, as it were, to know that fish, and used to feed it with crumbs from the end of the bowsprit.

About the 6th of June, the weather being then very hot, with light breezes, we crossed the line, as it is called, not of course the true equator or equinox, but the tropic of Cancer. This was, according to the custom of the sea, a great festival on board, those who had not passed that way before being obliged to submit to the ceremony of baptism, as they call it, which was performed after the manner then in use amongst French ships, as follows:—

The master’s mate dressed himself in a strange sort of garment, fashioned so as to be ridiculous and burlesque, and reaching to his heels, with a hat or cap made to match. In his right hand he held a great clumsy wooden sword; in his left a pot of ink. His face he had besmirched with soot, and he wore an uncouth necklace made of strings of blocks or pulleys, such as are used in the rigging for ropes to pass through. Thus accoutred, all the novices knelt down before him, while he favoured the shoulders of each with a smart slap of the sword, smearing also a great cross upon his brows, or sometimes over all his face with the ink. Immediately after, the novice was drenched with dozens of buckets of water, and the ceremony ended by his depositing his offering, as they call it, of a bottle of brandy, which must be placed in perfect silence at the foot of the mainmast. For myself, I underwent the mummery with the rest, and had, fortunately, sufficient in my pocket to contribute my bottle of brandy. One of the Hollanders on board told me that their mode of baptism was different; they either insisting upon a ransom, according to the station of the novice, or hoisting him to the main yard and from thence dropping him into the sea three several times. ‘If, however,’ said my informant, a simple man, ‘he be hoisted a fourth time in the name of the Prince of Orange, or of the master of the vessel, his honour is reckoned more than ordinary.’ In case of the ship—I speak still of the Hollanders—never having passed that place before, the captain is bound to give the mariners a small runlet of wine, which if he neglect to do, they maintain that they may cut the stem off the vessel. But in French and in Dutch ships, the profits accruing from the ceremony are kept by the master’s mate, and spent upon the arrival in port, in a general debauch by all the seamen.

CHAPTER II.
OF MY ESCAPE FROM THE FRENCH SHIP, AND MY LANDING
IN HISPANIOLA.

And now, being fairly within the grasp of the trade wind, we sped swiftly on towards those western islands whither we were bound, experiencing, however, as we approached the Indies, some of the squally weather common in these latitudes. Such gusts soon blow over, but are troublesome and fatiguing to mariners, and wearing to ship and rigging. First comes a black cloud on the horizon, then the waves to windward become tipped with whitish foam. Presently the gust strikes with great force, the firmament being very dark and threatening: at the time of its greatest strength there will be a flash of lightning and a thunderclap or two, after which a pelt of rain and a sudden clearing of the sky, the squall being for that time over.

Meanwhile, I often discussed with Wright the question of my deliverance. He said that there was now so much jealousy between the French and the English, in the West Indies, that I could possibly look for no other fate than being sold to serve my time as a slave in Tortugas; where I would be employed in field labour, such as the cultivation of tobacco, great crops of which are grown in that island. Wright’s opinion was, that I ought, in some way or other, to attempt an escape before being landed at Tortugas; but this was easier talked of than done. While all was still unsettled between us, ‘Land’ was one day proclaimed from the mast-head. This announcement surprised us all, for we had not expected to see any land until we came in sight of the mountains of Hispaniola, which still lay well to the westward. However, we soon found that, either through currents or errors in the reckoning, we were further to the south than we had calculated, and that the island we saw was one of the Virgin Isles, forming a cluster just where the long line of windward islands which stretch northward from the mainland, trend away to the west. This discovery necessitated a change in our steering—we hauling up two or three points more to the northward. The next day we saw, at a very great distance to leeward, a long faint blue ridge rising out of the water, which was the mountain line of the high ground of Porto Rico. Towards evening, the trade wind abated, being influenced, as we conjectured, by the distant land-breeze, which blows at night off the shore, in and near these islands; and before the setting of the sun the weather grew wellnigh calm. It was then that one of the crew discovered a bottle floating not far from the felucca, and pointed it out to the Captain, who straightway commanded it to be brought aboard; inasmuch as mariners in distress often fling such into the sea, with letters and papers relating their sad condition. Now, on board the felucca were two boats—the pinnace, in which I had been rescued, and a little skiff, not bigger than a canoe, which, being hoisted out and manned by two hands, brought in the bottle. It turned out to be empty and of no account. Still the finding of it was a lucky accident for me, inasmuch as the skiff was not again hoisted on board, but—the weather being exceedingly fine, and we soon expecting to use her to help in mooring ship—left towing astern.

That same night, Wright came to me and pointed her out as a means of escape.

‘Look you,’ says he, ‘your business is to get ashore on some island where you will find Englishmen, and which is not entirely under French or Spanish influence. Now, on the coast of Hispaniola are not a few of your countrymen and mine, sometimes cruizing, sometimes hunting and slaughtering cattle. By the course we are now lying, we shall have to run all along the northern coast of Hispaniola, which we will probably approach close to, for the benefit of the land-breeze at night, and because the shore is bold and the sea deep. Provided the skiff be left towing astern, it will not be difficult for you to smuggle yourself into it in the night-time, and so escape ashore.’

This advice appeared to me admirable, and threw me quite into a fever of eagerness and anxiety. I was in the middle watch that night, and how often I gazed upon the little boat—the expected ark of my deliverance—as she tossed upon the smooth ridges of swell, which glanced like silver in the bright moonlight! About nine o’clock in the morning the trade wind resumed its powers, and we soon saw rising out of the ocean, upon our lee bow, the blue-peaked mountains of Hispaniola. All day, you may be sure, I very eagerly watched the weather, fearing lest the approach of a squall would cause Montbars to order the skiff to be taken on deck, but the sky continued quite cloudless, the sun was burning hot, and the sea breeze—for such amid the Western Indies they call the regular daily trade wind—blew most refreshingly upon our starboard quarter, urging the felucca gloriously along. We were now fast closing in with the coast, which stretched in a long high range under the lee; and as we approached an exceeding bold promontory, called Le Vieux Cap François, I saw how delicious was the land, with its bright green forests—its rocks, rising from thick bushes and brushwood—and the great blue mountain peaks in the distance. Besides ourselves the ocean was solitary. No sail scudded before the breeze—no fishing-boat rode head to sea, surrounded by the buoys of her nets and lines. All above was a sky of dazzling and lustrous brightness—beneath was a limpid and foaming sea, from which arose the groves and rocks, the deep ravines and the green savannahs of an isle which seemed Paradise. I stood in the bows of the felucca, and stretched forth my arms, and prayed for the moment when I should set foot on shore.

When I was in this kind of rapture, Wright came to me privately, and asked whether I was determined to make the attempt. I replied, I only longed for night to come. Then at his request I went below with him to his berth, when he showed me, all else being on deck, a short-barrelled musket, hid in the bedding, with a flask of fine glazed powder and a small bag of balls. There was also a leathern bottle, called a broc, well stoppered and full of water, and some biscuits. ‘These things,’ says he, ‘will be necessary for you, so that you may not want, until you pick up some comrade along shore. Should you not succeed at first, you must trust to your gun for food, and you will soon find water, of which there is abundance, fresh and clear.’

I thanked him heartily for his goodness and foresight, for I had thought of nothing but how I should get ashore, not even how I should satisfy my hunger and thirst when I landed. But Wright was my good genius, and, taking advantage of our being now alone, for the deck was so much the more pleasant that all were there, he made me put on a couple of stout linen shirts which he gave me, as also a good jacket, such as sailors wear, and a pair of strong yet light shoes, like pumps. I was quite overpowered with such goodness, and could scarce refrain from weeping. What a poor forlorn miserable creature I should have been had Wright not been on board! and although I was nothing to him, yet had I been his son, the old man could not have used me with more grave and simple kindness. I told him that when he first spoke to me I was in great desolation and despair of spirit, but that now my heart was cheery and buoyant, and that I well trusted to see my own land again. At this his face darkened, and he heaved a great sigh. I went on, and said that he, too, I hoped, would end his days, not in these burning climes, but in the green valley of Hertfordshire, where he told me he was born.

‘No, no,’ says he, ‘never—never! I shall see England no more. I am but a wanderer and an outcast, even like Cain of old, and the place that once knew me, shall know me no more for ever.’

With this he sat himself down on a great sea-chest, and putting his hands to his face, sobbed aloud, so that all his great frame was shaken. I was much moved, and strove to take his hand. Then he looked at me with his large grey eyes, all dry, and, as I thought, somewhat bloodshot, for he could not weep, and said, ‘In a churchyard there, lie my fathers and my kindred, also the wife of my bosom and the two children of my loins, but my dust must not mingle with theirs. I shall sleep my last sleep in some desert wilderness, or amid the weeds under the sea.’

Observing me much astonished, and, perhaps, somewhat frightened, for I thought he must have committed some great and horrible crime, he grasped my hand in his, till I thought the blood came, and said, in a low voice—

‘Young man, I know not your soul, whether it loveth the gauds and the pomps of the world which are but vanity, or whether it would walk in the paths which are narrow and thorny, but which lead upwards. Yet I do believe you to be in spirit true and leal; and wherefore then should I dissemble, that if I am an outcast, it is in a holy and a just cause—ay, and a cause which will triumph, when the blood of the saints which crieth aloud is justified and avenged! Leonard Lindsay, I am one of those who by voice and hand did to death the man Charles Stuart.’

This, then, was one of the regicides whom I had often heard were wandering about the world, being driven from their land by this great and justifiable deed, for so my parents taught me to esteem it, of the putting to death of the king. I would have told my friend somewhat to this effect, but he stopped me, saying, applause or disapprobation were alike to him; that he would help and comfort all his fellow-men, but that he cared not for their opinion on what he had done, always looking for judgment inwards to his own soul, and thence upwards to his God.

Shortly after this we went on deck, and my first glance was astern, where the skiff was still towing, although the waves raised by the sea-breeze ran so gaily, that sometimes as they chased us, the boat, rising on the crest of the following sea, would seem as though she would be hove bodily on deck. The land was now quite close, not more than a mile under the lee, so that we could see a great succession of bays and little headlands with bushes of many sorts, and rich tangled underwood, creeping among and clothing the knolls and banks even to the water’s edge. Over these, high palms bended and waved in the sea-breeze, these seeming to issue from every crevice in the rocks; and sometimes, where a rivulet came down into the sea, the banks thereof being flat and soft, grew great thickets of the mangrove bush, a shrub which rises on bare grey stems out of the water, supporting whole beds of tangled and intertwisting foliage above, thus raising, as it were, a sort of canopy above the water. Between such places and the rocky headlands were often little bays, with narrow strips of white glittering beach, running like crescents from cliff to cliff, the sea breaking in flashing surf upon the shingle, and often sending its spray pelting among the bushes. Never, indeed, had I seen a more glorious coast, one so teeming with beauty and the riches of an overflowing nature. Involuntarily after every long and ardent gaze I turned my eyes upon my skiff, praying within my heart that nought might come to make my adventure miscarry.

As the evening approached, I was so impatient that I disposed of the biscuits, the powder, and the ball about my person, and was for ever going below to the berth to see that the musket was safe. The mariners, however, being excited and joyful, that the end of the voyage was nigh, gave little heed to me, otherwise my continued movements and feverish demeanour could not have but raised suspicion. In those low latitudes there is but little twilight, and half an hour after the sun went down into the sea ahead of us, the stars were shining out through the night. Meantime the sea-breeze had died away, and for an hour or longer we were left heaving upon the glassy swell, the land showing in vast dusky masses which, as it were, cut great spaces out of the firmament twinkling with stars, and the roar of the surf coming heavy and loud over the sea. Presently, after divers faint puffs, which caused the canvas to flap, shaking down on the deck great showers of dew, the land-wind, or terral, arose in its turn, balmy and sweet with the smell of the forests, and our lateen sails being dipped, we glided along, leaning over to seaward. The mid-watch came at last, and it had not been set for more than half an hour, ere the men dropped to sleep, under the lee of the bulwarks, excepting the steersman, and he leaned heavily and drowsily over the tiller. Then I brought on deck the musket and the broc, depositing them in safe places. But the question was how to get on board the skiff so as to elude the notice of the sailor who steered. Having soon devised a plan, I communicated it to Wright, who did not hesitate to put it into execution. Going aft, he stood beside the helmsman, and after some time, looking astern, remarked how the land-wind broke the usual heave of the sea into wild disorderly waves, and then observing that the skiff might be injured by being flung under our counter by the jumble of the water, he took the rope and hauled the boat ahead—the steersman thinking no harm—until he made it fast alongside, and screened from sight by the mainsail. In five minutes after, with a strong gripe of the hand, and a fervent ‘God speed you,’ I swung myself noiselessly aboard, and placed the gun and the broc in the bottom of the boat. Wright, so I must still call him, then undid the rope. My hand was at that moment upon the smooth side of the felucca, which I suddenly felt slip by me; I was adrift! Holding my breath, and my hand still against the planking of the vessel, she glided fast and faster by me, eluding as it were my clutch, when her shape melted away into the run. A minute after and I saw the small dusky hull and white stretching canvas becoming indistinct in the darkness ahead. I was alone, but I was free. For near an hour I remained almost motionless, fearing every moment to hear an alarum-gun fire; but the night continued silent, and then with a good heart I took up my oars, and using two as sculls, rowed towards the coast. The land-breeze blew steadily, so I had to tug long and hard. At last, seeing the dusky bank close ahead, I paused to look for a landing-place, but none could I see. The nature of the coast seemed to have changed, the land hereabout being a long smooth wall of perpendicular rock, sinking sheerly into the sea, which rose and fell at the base, with a loud hissing, pouring, gurgling sound—not like the deep thunder of surf. I therefore set myself to pull eastwardly, in search of a creek or bay. I knew that the moon would presently rise over the land, and in sooth, in about an hour, I noticed the glow of her broad disc peeping over the edge of the cliff ahead of me, and showing it, fringed, as it were, with a line of bushes and brushwood, which curled over the precipice, surmounted now and then by one of the tall, bending palmetto trees. In about an hour I had moonlight sufficient to see pretty distinctly the great limestone ledges along which I was cautiously coasting—pausing on my oars, now and then, to hear the great buzz of insects and the forlorn cries of night-birds which floated from the land. It must have been near three o’clock, when I saw a black-like opening in the wall of cliff, and very cautiously I pulled my boat inwards. For some time I was in great doubt as to whether I had found a creek, but presently I beheld the two portals of rock between which I was, fairly astern of the boat, and saw and heard the white gleam of the surf breaking on the beach. But the former was too high for me to risk a landing, and I would have pulled out to sea again, but seeing another dark shadowy space upon the left, I made for it, hoping it might turn out an oblique channel leading from the main cove. I was not deceived, and presently the boat glided along a sort of dusky canal, with great rocks on either hand, clothed with rich creeping herbage; trees hanging over either ledge, and, as the channel narrowed, meeting, and by their intertwining boughs shutting out the blue sky. Below me the water showed as black as tar, yet sparkling, when the undulations from the outer creek caused it to rise and sink upon the bushy banks. Now and then a flutter of wings would echo in the narrow passage, and the loud shriek of a night-bird would drown the noise. Anon a scrambling, walloping sound, followed by a splash, as of a great animal scuttling from a ledge into the water, would ensue, and again, for a time, there would be deep silence. In about a quarter of an hour, the heave of the sea was no longer felt, owing, as I concluded, to the shallowing of the creek; and then, making fast the skiff to a great protruding branch, which I struck my head against, I rolled myself in a blanket which I found Wright had flung into the boat, and was soon asleep, being thus, as it were, safely anchored to the New World!

CHAPTER III.
I JOIN A BROTHERHOOD OF HUNTERS AND ADVENTURERS ON THE
COAST.

I did not wake until the sun was reasonably high, although but few rays found their way into the curious cove, which by such a lucky chance I had hit. It was, indeed, a sort of natural corridor or aisle: rocks covered with plants and bushes forming great green walls, with tangled trees bending from side to side, and meeting and interlacing above, like a roof, while the floor was limpid water. The air within this natural alcove was of a greenish hue, and the reflection from the water the same. Great numbers of gay-coloured birds fluttered and screamed, rather than sang, amid the boughs; and on almost every projecting stone by the edge of the water stood a great grey crane or heron, watching for the small fish which form its prey. After I had looked my fill, I began to think of breakfast; for, in order to eke out my store, I had gone supperless to bed. So I munched a couple of biscuits, and took a great pull at the sweet, fresh water. There were fruits and vegetables of many kinds growing near, which I feared to meddle with, not knowing their properties. After breakfast, I cast off from my bough, and paddled to and fro in the channel to seek a landing-place. This I was not long in discovering, at the spot where a little runnel of the most transparent water I ever saw in my life came trickling down in a small hollow, or what, in Scotland, we would call a scaur. The sides of the ravine were, it is true, very steep, but they were clothed with matted grass and vegetation, so that I could clamber up without much difficulty. I therefore made my boat fast very carefully, for I knew not what use she might be to me afterwards, and also loaded my gun and hammered the flint, after which I addressed myself to climb to the top of the bank. I found this tolerably hard work; the heat of the sun was excessive, and here there was no sea-breeze to refresh one. Moreover, I did not much like the infinity of creeping and crawling things which, as I made my way upwards, I startled amid the coarse grass and underwood. Great beetles, shining and speckled—writhing creatures, like grey worms, with numberless legs—horrible hairy spiders—and one or two small snakes, all mottled and brindled. Besides, there flew about me, making a tiny buzz, as if they blew small hairy trumpets, hosts of that accursed fly called by the French maranguinnes, and by the English mosquitos, which stung me until I was almost mad,—slapping my face and my hands, and thrashing the air with a leafy branch, but all in vain. At length, after great toil, I stood upon the top of the bank, and felt, to my joy, the cool blast of the strong sea-breeze, which rustled in the bushes, and soon blew away my insect enemies far to leeward. Then, mounting a moderate-sized eminence, I set myself to reconnoitre; and truly I might have deemed that I was in a desert and unpeopled land. Behind me rose great swelling ridges, extending above one another as far as my eye could reach, and all covered with bright green brushwood, with here and there one of the long feathery palm-trees standing up like a steeple over houses. Not many paces in front ran a long fringe, as it were, of waving trees and bushes, marking the extreme edge of the cliff, which sank into the ocean; while beyond this there stretched out the great blue expanse of the sea, speckled here and there with white, as the waves broke, but sailless, and as lonely as the land. The great mountains which we had seen from on board were here invisible, and even the ridges around, as I gazed on them, seemed to move and quiver in the great heat. Notwithstanding pretty humming-birds, less than Jenny Wrens, fluttered about, and there was a mighty chattering, as of armies of parrots and parroquets, which whooped and called to each other from grove to grove.

At first, I felt a kind of sinking at being alone in this great wilderness, but plucking up courage, I set off to trudge along the coast to the eastward. The journey was toilsome in the extreme, for the stunted shrubs were tangled so, that I was ofttimes compelled to cut a passage with my clasp-knife, and the heat made my temples throb and ache strangely. At length, seeing great trees of prodigious size, the skirts of a forest, on my right hand, I made for them, and entering their shade, found better walking, for here was a canopy of leaves which warded off the sun, and also prevented the growth of underwood, the ground being clear, and the air cool, between the vast trunks of these glorious trees. However, I kept upon the edge of the wood, for fear of losing myself, not designing to stray far from the sea. Having marched thus near two hours, I heard a noise, which, as I came nearer, I took to be the yellings of wild animals; so that, somewhat startled, I looked to the priming of my gun, and also gazed around for a tree into which it might be convenient to climb. Meantime, the tumult came nearer, and I imagined it to be of dogs, yet it was rather a savage yelping than the deep bay of hounds. Next I heard a great crashing of branches on the edge of the wood, and making my way there, and mounting a tree, I speedily saw a huge wild boar, as I judged, with great tusks, and his jaws covered with flakes of foam, closely chased by a pack of dogs. These latter were fawn-coloured, with black muzzles; their legs were short, but very brawny; and as I heard no sound or shout of hunters, I concluded, with reason, that the pack before me were descendants of those ferocious bloodhounds brought by the Spaniards into Hispaniola, and other islands, to hunt down the inoffensive Indians, and which, being deserted by their masters, ran wild and multiplied, so that flocks of them assemble, and hunt the cattle and boars for their own support. Meantime, however, the quarry had turned to bay underneath a tree not far from me, and the dogs stood round in a semicircle, yelping at him. At length, one bolder than the rest made a spring, and drove his great jaws, as it seemed to me, into the animal’s flank. This was the signal for a general onset, and, in a moment, the boar, grunting and squeeling hideously, was tumbled on the ground, the ferocious dogs, with jaws and muzzles all blood and froth, tearing and riving its living flesh, so that, in the space of a very few minutes, the creature was not only killed, but well-nigh pulled into morsels. Then the dogs, several of which were hurt, and limped and whined, fell to and ate their fill, after which having gorged themselves to their very throats, they lay down to sleep. Seeing this, I concluded that I could with safety pursue my journey, and accordingly got down from the tree and did so, none of the bloodhounds molesting me.

I walked until the afternoon, still seeing no sign of human life, and then feeling very hungry, and moreover wishing for something more savoury than bread and water, I looked about for game. Many green lizards or guanos were to be seen in the branches, and these the Frenchmen on board the felucca had assured me were good food, but I could not bring my stomach to them, and at length, after several unsuccessful shots, I secured a bird, nearly double the size of our pigeon, on which I determined to dine. Coming to a little rivulet of clear water, with pretty pools, nourishing the most luscious profusion of water-plants, I sat me down, and presently discovered a large duck quackling and nibbling in the herbage. Now, the flesh of a duck I knew, but the bird I had already killed was a stranger to me; so taking a very careful aim at the poor fellow, I fired and sent the bullet—I had no small shot—right through him. But immediately there rose such a loud rustling of wings, and quacking, and screaming, that I was confounded, until, making a few steps in advance, I saw that the rivulet a little above spread into a good-sized weedy pond, which harboured thousands of ducks, and teal, and widgeon, all of which flew away on hearing the report of my piece. Having recovered my game from the water, I set to work, plucked him, and, kindling a fire of dry sticks and leaves, broiled him thereon. The cookery was rough, but I thought the fare capital, only the want of salt annoyed me. Having dined, I jogged on as before, and as evening approached found myself exceedingly fatigued and dispirited at having seen no human being. When the sun went down and the short tropical twilight gave way to night, through which the stars blazed with a fiery lustre, unknown to me until I had crossed the Atlantic, I even began to ponder as to whether I had done well in leaving the ship at all; but speedily shaking off this idle despondency, I wrapped myself up in my blanket, which, in spite of its weight, I had carried strapped tightly on my shoulders, and seasoning my biscuit with a piece of tobacco to chew, made my supper, and slept in the fork of a tree, lying back not uncomfortably among the branches. I awoke once or twice and listened to the low hum and drone of insects, in addition to which a bird, as I judged, uttered from time to time a long mournful cry, sounding like ‘Weep, poor weel,’ which was very melancholy, echoing through that great midnight wilderness. Around me gleamed the little lights of glow-worms, called by the Spaniards Moscas del Fuego. But these extinguished their lamps in the latter part of the night.

I was awake with the sun, at the rising of which a great white fog which lay upon the earth and drenched me, lifted and dispersed. The heat soon dried my clothes, and about nine o’clock, when the sea-breeze whistled through the herbage, I began again my weary march. Not long after, having a good view of the sea from a promontory, I descried almost beneath me, a ship under sail, lying along shore, which, the coast here tending southerly, she could do very well, and yet keep her sails full. She was a two-masted vessel, seemingly very quick, and, plunging over the breasting waves gallantly, soon passed me, steering to the east and keeping fearlessly along the rocks. I found no wild ducks to-day, but, urged by hunger, I shot a monkey; and although the poor creature looked horrible when skinned, his flesh was not unpalatable. Towards the afternoon, I perceived that I was approaching an indented part of the coast, and I saw many ravines down which I could have gone to the sea. Now and then, too, I would get a glimpse of such pretty, shingly and bushy bays as I descried from the felucca, while on the other hand, between the hills, there opened up vistas of great flat green fields, here called savannahs. I had hopes that I was approaching some inhabited place, and ere long I heard faint shouts before me and nearer to the sea. This made me push on vigorously, yet not without caution; and at length, forcing my way through a forest of stunted trees, I caught a glimpse of the figure of a man through the boughs. His back was to me, and I thought he was standing in a low tree, when suddenly a great gust of the sea-breeze came rattling in the wood, and the man swang to and fro with a slow motion, among the waving branches. Immediately a horrid thought seized me, and looking up as I heard a croaking, I saw two great carrion vultures circling in the air. Manning myself, I ran forward, and there, sure enough, was the body of a man hanging from a horizontal branch of a tree, his feet not many inches from the tops of the Guinea grass. I was overpowered with horror; but turning away from the terrible sight, what were my feelings to see two other bodies hanging in a similar manner! Having a little recovered my first natural fright, I looked attentively at these unfortunates. They were all three dressed in the same fashion, with coarse shirts, great jackets or doublets, cut in a square fashion, like the coats of the water-men on the Thames, and pantaloons. What surprised me, however, was the red filthy hue of the garments, as though they had been soaked in blood, and never cleaned or scoured. But then I called to mind what Wright had told me of the hunting dresses of the Buccaneers, and how they took a sort of pride in being disorderly and neglectful of their attire, never washing it from the blood-stains which their occupation plenteously bedaubs them with. The hair and beards of these men were long and matted, and they wore buskins of untanned hide. I looked attentively, but could see no gun or weapon, and the whole matter was a mystery to me. However, it was not a pleasant locality to linger in, so I continued my way, and presently saw a fine wooded bay, with winding shores, lying beneath me, the forest sometimes reaching into the very surf, but in other places leaving beaches of sand, carpeted as it were with a sort of creeping grass of the kind, as I afterwards heard, called Bahama.

Along this bay I skirted, often stopping to look keenly about. At length I saw a boat or canoe, pulled by several persons, paddling across the smooth surface; and observing it disappear beyond a green headland on the opposite side of the bay, my attention was directed thither, and presently I noticed several columns of thin blue smoke rising up above the trees at that very point. I was still gazing at them when the sound of voices smote my ear distinctly, and I had scarce time to conceal myself among the thick brushwood, when near a score of men, some of whom wore gold-laced doublets and seemed officers, came scrambling down towards the water from a point higher up the bay than I had attained. I saw at a glance that they were not Englishmen, being much too swarthy; and as they passed at no great distance, and talked and laughed loudly, I perceived that their language was Spanish, the sound and accent whereof I knew very well. All these men were armed, each with a great bell-mouthed short-barrelled gun, but I observed that three carried, each of them, in addition, a musket of quite another shape. Seeing that they were Spaniards, I was in mortal dread that they might have bloodhounds with them, fiercer even than the wild dogs I had seen, and I drew my strong clasp-knife, determined that, at least, there should be a weasen or so cut before I was worried. Happily, however, the party had no dogs whatever. I held my breath as they were passing, but what was my consternation when the whole body stopped not ten paces from me, while one pointed out to the others the smoke on the other side of the bay. At this, two or three other of the fellows made gestures, by jerking their heads aside and pointing to their necks, as though there were halters round them, and then all laughed. But he who seemed the principal officer restrained them, and taking out a pocket compass, appeared to set, as mariners call it, the direction in which the smoke appeared. Then they all went on together, I cautiously following at a very respectful distance. Their course was to the outer part of the bay, and they proceeded hastily down a steep wooded glen, in which I lost sight of them. Presently, however, I heard them hailing a ship, as I conjectured; and I was right, for having got a little further, I heard the ripple of water, and saw over the trees the rigging and masts of a vessel, which I recognised as the same I had descried at sea early in the morning; and, getting a good vantage-ground, I at last looked down upon her deck, and saw a well-armed ship, full of men. Putting all these circumstances together, I soon concluded that the craft was a Spanish Guarda Costa. Then I thought of the men pointing to the distant smoke, and making motions as though they would hang the people there. In a moment I saw it all. The three executed Buccaneers—the three guns different from the rest carried by the Spaniards—their gestures at sight of the smoke of a little settlement! Doubtless the party belonged to a ship which had come upon the coast to make the usual attacks on the French and English settlers, and they, having caught these three unfortunates in the woods, had hanged them out of hand, and meant to attack the people on the opposite side of the bay, taking them by surprise. This last I inferred from the care with which a sheltering cove had been found to conceal their vessel.

It was now my clear duty to make my way to the opposite side of the bay, to warn the people there, who, being enemies of the Spaniards, must necessarily, by the rule of these seas, be friends of mine. But how to get to them? I knew not how far up the country the bay, or lagoon, extended; to swim across would not have been difficult, but I thought of caymans and sharks, and my heart failed me. Notwithstanding, I made my way to the seaside, and sat down on a large rock. What would I have given now for the skiff I had abandoned! But then, if I had come along the coast in her, I should have been picked up and murdered by the Guarda Costa. So in cruel perplexity I sat until it grew dark. All at once I thought that if the three unhappy Buccaneers who were put to death belonged to the settlement opposite, that they would have brought a canoe to waft them over, which I might find along the shore. This idea gave me fresh vigour, and I ran eagerly along the shingle, climbing from time to time over points of rock which jutted out. Near two hours were wasted in fruitless search, wading through little creeks, and tracing small channels amid the bushes into which the rising tide was flowing, when at length, just as I was despairing, I happily found the object of my search. In a narrow cove, alongside a ledge of rock, floated a light canoe, scooped out of a single tree. I immediately stepped on board, and using the paddle alternately on either side, managed, though I was awkward at first, to make the canoe move in the direction I wished. Crossing the bay, I had enough to do to keep the land wind from blowing me out of my course, and by the time I was two-thirds over, every muscle in my body ached with the unwonted exercise. Paddling on, however, I suddenly saw on the dusky shore a cluster of red dim lights, by which I knew that I had opened the headland behind which the smoke rose, and almost at the same moment I heard behind a faint plash, and the rattle as of arms. I saw at once that I had no time to lose, if, as I guessed, the boats of the Guarda Costa were not far astern. Immediately I redoubled my efforts, making for the lights, and at the same time hailed, ‘Ho! the shore, ahoy.’ Immediately a voice replied, ‘Is that you, Benjamin?’ When I heard the sounds of my own language, my heart leaped to my mouth; and, catching up my musket, I fired it off, shouting, ‘Look out! look out! the Spaniards! the Guarda Costa!’ In an instant there gleamed a great many little lights, as of lanterns carried by people running about on the beach, and I heard the clash of arms and loud hallooings; then the voice I had heard sang out again, ‘Where are they?—who are you?’ But before I could reply the Spaniards suddenly fired two volleys in my direction, the flashes showing two great boats, full of men, and rowing fast. The water near me was torn up by the balls, but none touched the canoe, and the fire was promptly answered by a small piece of artillery ashore, which echoed grandly in the hills, and caused a harsh concert of the wakened birds. Not willing to be between two fires, I paddled hard, and presently ran the canoe on the beach; when I leaped out and found myself in the midst of a group of men, all shouting and cheering in English and French, running to and fro, and fetching and making ready arms,—their muskets, and hangers, and pikeheads gleaming in the sparkle of the lanterns. Directly I splashed through the surf, I shouted that I was a friend and a Scottish sailor, and that the Spaniards were upon us; whereon they gave a loud shout in my honour, and in defiance of the enemy, and fired a straggling volley. This the boats returned briskly, and the Buccaneers, rushing up to their middles in the sea, cried out with desperate imprecations to the Spaniards to come on, swearing they would roast them alive on their grilles de bois, and taunting them with every infamous name, keeping up a spattering irregular fire all the time. However, Jack Spaniard, seeing a warm reception before him, hung off, keeping in the shadow of the little headland. Then two or three canoes were promptly manned, but the men in their eagerness over-crowded them, and fought amongst themselves who should go; so that time was lost, and meantime we heard the dash of oars, as the boats, having failed in their purpose of surprise, pulled away.

When the hubbub was a little abated, I was asked by a dozen persons at once what I was; whereon I recounted that having left, I did not say escaped, from a French ship on the coast, I had travelled hither, and on my way saw the Spaniards, and guessed their intentions. Then I told them of the bodies I had passed hanging from trees, at which they raised a great clamour of cursing; for these, as I had guessed, were their comrades, who had crossed the bay to hunt the day before. Then there was a proposal to man all the canoes, and go and attack the Spaniards; but just as this was acceded to with a loud shout, a light pirogue, which it seems had been fishing down the bay, ran in with the news that the ship had weighed anchor directly her boats returned, and made all sail to sea. On this there was a great groan given for the cowardice of the Don, and the crowd began to disperse.

At this moment a young Englishman came up to me, and asked, with great solicitude, if one of the Buccaneers I had seen hanging was light haired with yellow moustaches. I replied in the affirmative; on which, in words of strong passion and feeling, he swore that he would bitterly revenge on the Spaniards the death of Benjamin, his ‘partner,’ as he called him, and, in short, broke out into a great paroxysm of grief and rage. Meantime, several of the Buccaneers offered me the hospitality of their huts, but my Englishman declared I must go to his, as he was now alone, which the rest consenting to, very cordially shook hands with me, and thanked me in French and English, and then I followed my new friend along the beach to his hut. There were a good many of these, irregularly placed, and beside several there smouldered a slow fire, making the lights I had seen in the bay. Over these fires there were gratings or hurdles of wood, and on them lumps of beef, rudely cut, drying and cooking little by little; great bales and heaps of hides lay about, the perfume exhaling from them not being by any means pleasant, and numbers of dogs howled and barked without ceasing. My conductor led me into a hut built like the others, of wood and clay, and thatched with some sort of thick leaf. The inside was lighted by a smoky lamp, showing two beds of hide with dirty blankets, and a clumsy table. There were shelves all round, whereon were ranged several guns, hangers, and long Spanish knives, with fish and boar-spears, and other weapons. Also I saw a mariner’s compass and some instruments for taking the latitude, so that I rightly guessed my host to be a sailor as well as a hunter. Besides these, there were strewn about, bits of net, canvas, bullock horns, and one or two panthers’ skins were arranged as coverlets for the beds.

My host asked many questions about the Spaniards, while he produced for supper a piece of dried beef, prepared over the slow fire which I had seen, and which being called ‘boucan’ gave to those who make it the name of ‘Buccaneers.’ I found it somewhat tough, but relishing and wholesome. After supper, we had brandy and rum, tempered by water, and while drinking it very sociably, my comrade informed me that he was a native of Cornwall, and that his name was Treveltham; but that here, following a custom which was universal among the Buccaneers, he had changed it for a nickname, or nomme de guerre, by which only he was known to the generality of his comrades. His Christian appellation being Nicholas, he was called Nicky Hamstring, a whimsical appellation, which set me laughing heartily. He had been on the coast since the end of the last rainy season, and liked the life well. The bay on the banks of which we were, he told me, was the estuary of a river called Le Marmousette, and about it there were much wild cattle. The English and the French Buccaneers lived here generally good friends. ‘Not but,’ said he, ‘that sometimes when the rum has gone round, there is not a brawl, and it may be a stick with a knife; but after all the island is big enough for all, and the cattle are many enough for all, and so we love each other, and hate Jack Spaniard.’ While we were talking, we heard loud shouting and singing without, great roaring choruses both in French and English, and oftimes a Lingua Franca, which was a compound of the two, but the burden of all being words of hatred and contempt of the Spaniards. Once or twice I thought the singers would have entered our hut, for the door had neither lock nor bar, but they did not, and as the night wore on, everything became silent except the dogs, who, having been unloosed from their kennels to act as sentinels, growled hoarsely along the beach. Having drunk and talked as much as we chose, we went to bed, I having, indeed, been asleep all through several long stories which Nicky recounted of the exploits and bravery of the Buccaneers, my drowsiness being easily excused to my companion by the long journey I had come that day.

CHAPTER IV.
OF THE LIFE OF A BUCCANEER.

Next morning Nicky asked me to accompany him, with two others to guide them to the spot where their comrades had suffered, in order that they might bury the bodies; we accordingly set off in the canoe, our companions being one Jonas, as he was called, an Englishman, and Pierre le Noir, or Black Peter, a Frenchman from the coast of Normandy. Jonas was so called, owing to the great ill-luck which he had met with in cruising, having been twice taken, and once very nearly hanged by the Spaniards on the coast of Porto Rico; while once upon the Mosquito coast, in the expedition in which l’Olonnais, a famous French Buccaneer, was killed, he had been left for some months in a small quay or island near the Mosquito shore, eating what wild fruit he could get, and what birds he could catch with his hands. We landed in the same creek in which I found the canoe, and after less troublous walking than I expected, my comrades knowing the country, found the bodies still hanging, but already defaced by the hideous vultures, so as to present a horrid spectacle. Nevertheless, having brought shovels and pickaxes with us, we performed our task, and over the grave, for they all three were laid in one, we put a rude cross made of withies, or willow wands, and so left them to take their long sleep in the wilderness.

Being returned to the opposite side, I rambled through the village, for such it was, to note the appearance of the place, and its inhabitants.

The huts were built upon a green bank, rising pleasantly from the sea, the little headland of which I spoke sheltering it. Behind some lofty ridges, partly covered with luxuriant wood, which here and there had been cleared, certain small fields were marked out, these last being planted with a brown herb, like overgrown rhubarb, which they told me was tobacco. At the water’s edge was a rude wharf, made of wood called shingles—and several canoes and European-built boats lay there. While I was sauntering about, one of the former put off, navigated by two Indians, who spoke both French and English reasonably well. These Indians were better and more neatly attired than the whites; they were of a sallow-brown hue, had long, lank black hair, and very bright eyes. In person they were tall, raw-boned, and muscular. In the canoe they carried an assortment, as it were, of spears, called fizgigs and harpoons, for striking fish; at which exercise they are inconceivably expert, often killing in a forenoon what will form a good dinner for a hundred men. The Mosquito men, for so are these Indians called, are therefore very highly prized by the whites, who give them good wages to go on board their ships, or to stay at their settlements on shore, to provide turtle or manatee for the company. While I was looking at them, Nicky came up to me, and we walked through the village together, he bringing me into many of the cabins, all of which were similar to his own. Those of the men who were not in the mountains or savannahs hunting, were attending to their boucans, or fires, for the drying of the meat, and I thought as I saw them, working like butchers and cooks, that I would rather take the huntsman’s part of the business. All around lay the quarters of slaughtered beeves and hogs, while the Buccaneers, armed with long knives, cut the flesh from the bones. These lumps were then carefully salted in open sheds used for that purpose, and after being well steeped in brine, were placed on the boucan—that is to say, upon the grille of wood above a slow fire, which gradually dried and cooked the meat, giving it at the same time a sort of smoky taste, which however is not without an aroma to the palate. This method of preserving meat may be called national in these islands, for so did the original Charibs dress their food, whether fish or flesh. These savages were so fond of this cookery, and of such endurance, that an Indian returning from the chase, fatigued and hungry, would often wait patiently by the boucan, or as they called it, the barbecu, the best part of a day, until a fish or slice of hog, or beeve, was well cooked, the morsel being suspended almost two feet above a little and slow fire. The Charibs, being cannibals, were often in use to treat their prisoners just as they treated their game, and I know many who, visiting some of the smaller windward islands, and also the Brazilian coast, saw great flitches of human flesh, smoked and barbecued, hanging in the huts. The meat, when sufficiently preserved in the manner which I have described, the Buccaneers placed in storehouses, built so that both land and sea winds may play well around them. The hides are also prepared in a rude fashion, and the tallow, the whole being periodically sold, either for money or goods, to the captains of privateers for their crews, or to certain planters in those islands in which cattle do not abound. The latter are the best customers, making regular contracts with the Buccaneers for the supply of a certain quantity of meat and hides for a fixed sum, the stipulations on both sides being honourably adhered to. Many of the Buccaneers have servants and hired assistants, who are chiefly employed in conveying the cattle from the spot where they are killed to the boucan, and afterwards in helping to stow away the food. Although this appeared to be a regular settlement, its inhabitants led but a roving life. Many of them intended to go to sea for a change at the first opportunity, and others, conceiving that there were more cattle and fewer hunters to the eastward, spoke of shifting their quarters. This I heard while wandering about with Nicky, from boucan to boucan, and hut to hut. The scene indeed was a new one to me. Such groups of wild-looking blood-stained men; such slashing and cutting of meat, as though one were in the shambles; such shouting and singing in different tongues, mixed with the clamour of dogs and the screams of parrots, and other birds from the neighbouring groves; such quaffing of bumpers of brandy and constant smoking of tobacco; such an appearance indeed of rude plenty and coarse health and enjoyment—all this made a curious impression on me, and I returned to the hut pondering on it.

‘Well,’ says Nicky, ‘will you stay with us, and be my comrade, in lieu of poor Benjamin? Here is his stock in trade,’ pointing to two good guns and a little assortment of household stuff. ‘By the rules of the coast, as you know, we all work in couples. Each man has his comrade, with whom he shares all: and when one dies, the survivor is entitled to his partner’s wealth and implements—the last of which I will very willingly bestow upon you, should you deem it meet to join me.’

We talked for some time about the matter. My own mind was naturally buoyant, and my spirits easily fitted themselves to circumstances; and so, concluding that I would lead an adventurous life, and see much well worthy of being beheld, we in the end concluded a bargain; and then putting on a doublet which had belonged to poor Benjamin, and which being almost new, was but slightly smirched with blood, my partner summoned in several of the chief men to the hut; and they being accommodated with great goblets of brandy, admitted me by acclamation into the body of the brave Huntsmen and Buccaneers, and the ancient order of Brethren of the Coast, baptizing me in brandy, with various mummeries, by the nick-name of Will Thistle, as showing my Scottish nativity. Then Jonas, who was there, would fain have had a carouse, but they persuaded him not, saying that there was ample work to do, and little time to do it in, before the ships would arrive from Jamaica and Nevis for boucan.

Behold me now, therefore, a Buccaneer on the coast of Hispaniola! I let my beard and moustache grow, and they and my hair, which was naturally luxuriant, mingling, I speedily looked as grim and grisly as any of them. My comrade, Nicky, was a good man and true; he had really felt the death of Benjamin his partner, and so had been at first more grave and more reserved than usual. But as this natural feeling wore away, he became truly a merry madcap, with a jest, sometimes of the coarsest, or a lusty sea-song, or a tale of brave privateersmen, ever in his mouth. Under his tuition, I soon became a good shot, and learned to break up a bull or cow most scientifically with the knife. Also I became acquainted with the various trees and shrubs, birds and beasts of the coast. I knew how to fell the mountain cabbage, and to roast the savoury plantain in the hot cinders. I could bake the mealy cassava cake, and I knew how to bore the Frank palm for the luscious sap which flows from the wounded bark. Besides, these great forests and fair beaches teem with infinite food. We turned the lazy turtles which we found upon the shore, or hunted for their eggs in the hot sand. We intercepted and roasted the land-crab in his annual journey from the mountains; we shot the guano or yellow lizard, as he whimpered in the boughs, and prejudice being set aside, found his flesh like that of a barn-door fowl; while the racoon and the monkey both formed good roasts when we tired of pork and beef. Then on every pond bred flocks of fat ducks, and, in the season, the delicious ortolan fed amid the guinea grass. Great hosts of pigeons built in the high trees and the rocks, and the bright-coloured woodpeckers afforded us many a savoury dish. For the sea, the Mosquito men kept us well supplied. Standing in the bows of the canoe, with their barbed spears poised and ready, and their keen eyes fixed upon the water beneath, there was hardly a fish at which they darted their harpoons which the next moment lay not quivering and bleeding in the bottom of the boat.

CHAPTER V.
HOW WE ENCOUNTER GREAT DANGERS, THE SPANIARDS
ATTACKING US.

I have said that the bay on which we lived was part of the mouth or estuary of the river Marmousette, which, rising in distant mountains, falls into the sea, between Port Plate, a great land-bound gulf, and a high cape called Point de Cas Rouge. A mile or so further up the country than the Buccaneer settlement, the coast was low and marshy; the mangroves here grew in great abundance, and divers deep channels of salt water ran away from the main branch of the sea, and led, some of them, to great open savannahs, covered with rich grass, where the wild cattle loved to come and feed. One day, five of us started in a small pirogue, which could barely contain such a crew, to seek for bulls and cows in these swampy prairies—a Buccaneer called Walshe, who perfectly knew the mangrove canals, acting as pilot. We paddled up alongside of the bank, and having come to the swampy ground, directed the canoe through certain intricate channels in the forest of mangroves, with the intent of coming to a bit of the savannah favourable for our sport, which Walshe knew. It was curious, thus rowing, as it were, through a submerged forest. The water beneath us was very deep—for we were obliged to keep in the channels by reason of the mangroves growing on the muddy banks—and quite transparent, so long as the fat black slime remained undisturbed. Over head, the mangroves formed a complete canopy, so that we paddled in a hot green twilight, looking through long vistas of this natural alcove, or else trying in vain to make our eyesight penetrate more than a few yards athwart the infinity of grey, slimy stems. At this time, the tide was flowing inward, floating alongside of us broad layers of thick, rich scum, which gradually, as it were, clung to the trees on either side, leaving the mid-passage clear.

I, happening to be in the bow of the canoe as look-out man, amused myself by gazing down into the green, translucent sea, ahead of the ripples caused by the progress of the canoe. The channel could not have been less than three fathoms deep, yet I saw, as clearly as though there were nothing but air beneath me, the broad, moving leaves of great plants at the bottom, and the heaps, and coils, and meshes of twisted stalks, and long, serpent-like withes springing from the fat mud, and which waved with a slow and sickly motion as the passing tide stirred them. There were also great shoals of fish of divers kinds, which fled away on all sides as we advanced; but what fascinated my gaze was the appearance of a huge blue shark, which I could distinctly see cleaving the water about half way between the boat’s keel and the bottom, and keeping pace with us very exactly. I was in the very act of raising my head to tell what I had seen, when I heard a loud exclamation from Walshe, who was steering, and who exclaimed that there was a rope stretched across the passage. The words were hardly out of his mouth, when the canoe struck the obstacle, broached to with the swing of the tide, and in an instant turned over, tilting us all, with a huge splash, into the water. As I went souse into the sea, the vision of the horrible monster which I had just seen shot through my very heart and brain, and striking out with convulsive strokes, in a moment I clutched a mangrove stem, and then, almost unknowing how I did it, I swung myself into the tree. Turning round, I looked for my companions; two were clinging to the canoe, which was drifting rapidly away with the tide. Nicky, my comrade, was in a similar position to myself, but on the opposite side of the creek; but poor Walshe was struggling in mid-channel, vainly trying, in his flurry, to swim against tide. We both shouted to him to sheer to one side; but just as he was attempting to do so, I saw a bluish white glimmer shoot through the troubled water beneath him, and at that moment, the poor fellow gave such an unearthly yell, that the woods echoed, flinging his arms about, and dashing the water into a foam, in the midst of which he disappeared, his cry ending in a loud, choking gurgle. Then there rose and rolled a great smooth, boiling wave, tinged with blood, as the shark, having secured his prey, turned again on his belly, and dived into the deep water. Nicky and I sat looking at each other for near the space of ten minutes without uttering a syllable. Then we began, I know not why, to talk in low whispers, and to consult upon our own situation. Our hope was, that the two hunters, who had stuck by the canoe, would be able to right it, and return for us, and so, joining our voices, we shouted loud and long, but the only answer which came back was the clamour of parrots and other birds, and the hissing sound of the water pouring between the slimy mangrove stems. We had no fire-arms, they having gone to the bottom when the canoe upset; so, having shouted ourselves hoarse, we had nothing for it but painfully to converse with each other. Our discourse turned upon the cause of our mishap. The rope was, by this time, far beneath the water, but we could observe the tremor of the two stout mangroves to which it was attached. It was Nicky’s opinion that there were Spaniards upon the coast, and that we had fallen into one of their traps—they being aware that we sometimes used these canals to paddle to the savannahs, and return with the ebb of the tide. ‘If so,’ said my comrade, ‘we shall not be left long here, and shall come by a fate not much better than that of poor Sam Walshe.’ I inquired if there was no hope of escape at low water, when we might wade through the water to firm ground; but my comrade replied, that unless we were giants, we could hope nothing from that. Neither would it be practicable to clamber shorewards from tree to tree, on account of the great multiplicity of canals and passages which traverse the mangroves, the smaller of which harboured caymans in their muddy depths. ‘No, no,’ concluded Nicky, ‘we can do nothing; we must wait and take our chance.’

Presently the tide began silently to ebb, and in due time it left the marsh bare. But, oh! what a dismal spectacle that was! Everywhere fat banks of black mud, nourishing everlasting mangroves, the obscene slime here piled up in great rotting masses, there smooth in beds, from which bubbles of impure air would come bursting to the surface, and sending up hideous smells of putrefaction. The air, indeed, became as the air of a pest-house. Dank vapours began to roll amid the trees, a sort of seething steam boiled up from the pools and canals, and by night-time a wet grey fog, which was as the very breath of fever, brooded all through the marsh. The night wind was hardly felt amid these woody solitudes; and if a gust sometimes swept by us, it only brought the unwholesome vapour in fresh supplies. From time to time, we called to each other. Nicky recommended me to keep the collar of my doublet between my teeth, so as to breathe through the stuff, but we suffered terribly from hunger. With the morning, the fog lifted, and the tide, which had of course flowed and ebbed during the night, began to flow again. Still, there was no appearance of relief. We would even have welcomed the arrival of the Spaniards, but not an oar or paddle-splash broke the terrible silence. We were both, I think, falling into a sort of stupor, when Nicky suddenly shouted to me.

‘There—see, there!’ he cried; ‘down the channel!’

I looked, and lo! our canoe, still floating on her side and full of water, was coming drifting up, rubbing the mangrove stems, on my side of the channel.

‘Now or never, Will Thistle!’ cried Nicky. ‘This is life or death! Catch her as she passes!’

I roused all my strength, and slipped down from the fork, where I had been sitting, until my legs were in the water. The canoe drifted close in, and I had no difficulty in catching the rope, which yet hung from her bow, and making it fast to a tree. At this Nicky gave a great hurrah, and slipping from his perch, swam boldly across the deep water, having grasped my hand before I was aware of his proximity. ‘Here,’ says he, ‘let me right the boat, a Mosquito man taught me the art.’ And, sure enough, in a minute or two the canoe was swimming properly, only still half full of water. This, however, we speedily baled with our hats, and getting into the canoe, found it none the worse. By good chance a couple of spare paddles had been secured in the boat, with a piece of spun-yarn. We, being so far fortunate, shook hands with each other very heartily; and after bestowing a few sorrowful words upon our unhappy comrades, all of whom were indeed lost, we set ourselves to consider what was our best course to return again to the settlement. We could either have gone on with the flowing tide, and landed upon the savannah, as we originally purposed, from whence we could have made our way by land, although the journey would be toilsome, or we might return into the open lagoon in the canoe, and so paddle down the coast. This last plan we determined upon, even although to follow it there would be a necessity for waiting some hours, until the force of the flood tide had spent itself. But to wait in hope is another matter from remaining in despair; and so, making ourselves as comfortable in the canoe as we could, we tarried patiently. At length, the stream beginning to slacken, we pushed off, and paddled cautiously seaward. Coming to the spot where the rope had been stretched across the channel, we paused, and after some search, having found it, we managed to cast loose either end, although it was then near two feet under water, with the intention of carrying it away as a memorial of our escape. Hardly, however, had we got it into the canoe, when we heard the sound of oars and voices rapidly approaching, as if from the landward side. We paused to listen, hoping it might be our comrades coming in search of us; but presently the sound approached so near as to enable us to distinguish the Spanish accent of the speakers.

‘Give way for the love of God!’ I exclaimed, tossing the rope aside. We both seized the paddles, but ere the canoe had got headway, a large boat, full of men, suddenly appeared behind us at a winding of the channel. At sight of the canoe they set up a great shout, called upon us in Spanish, French, and English, to surrender. But we only plied our paddles the harder, working fast to seaward.

Oh, thought I, that we had not removed the rope, and then the Spaniards, in their eagerness, would have been caught in their own snare; but a minute’s reflection told me that the tide was then too high for the line to have stopped the pursuing boat. The chase was now a most eager one. True, we were tired and faint; but the sight of our deadly enemies nerved our arms; the paddles bent and cracked and the light canoe flew over the water with a speed which the heavy boat astern could not hope long to cope with. At this moment the Spaniards fired at us, the bullet flashed in the water alongside, and Nicky cried to zig-zag the canoe—that is, to pull her by jerks from side to side, out of her true course, so as to make the object a more difficult one to hit. We accordingly paddled in this fashion, and it was completely effectual: not a shot struck us. Now a ball would sing overhead; now one would tear up the still water alongside of us; but neither the canoe nor ourselves were hit, although the Spaniards must have fired a score of shots. Still the efforts we were making were too severe to be long continued; and, in spite of our exertions, our muscles began to flag. It was then that, ahead of us, we saw a bend in the channel, on the right of which grew a huge mangrove, with dozens of long cord-like withes depending into the water. ‘Thank God, we shall do yet,’ said Nicky, who knew the channel well. ‘Pull for the other side of that big mangrove!’ And in a moment the canoe glanced round the corner in question, and we were shut out from the view of the Spaniards. Here a small muddy creek almost covered with foliage, diverged from the main channel.

‘I know not where it leads,’ said my comrade, ‘but we must take it. The strait is too narrow to row in, so we cannot be followed.’

The advice was good, and the canoe speedily flew up the tributary creek, urged on, not only by our paddles, but a favouring current. This last circumstance gave us good heart, for the tide being now ebbing, and the current along the passage in our favour, it was evident that it led to the open sea. The Spanish boat had, no doubt, passed the outlet of the small creek without observing it, for as we sat silently to listen, we heard the dash of the oars and the shouts of our pursuers to the left, but could see nothing through the thicket of mangrove stems. We were about to resume our paddles again when the distant sound of musquetry struck our ears. We both listened breathlessly; volley after volley was fired, and mingling with it came the deep roar of culverins and other heavy ordnance. In a moment the crew of the boat near us, as though they had also heard the noise of conflict, gave a great shout of ‘Death to the Pirates!’ for so they called the Buccaneers, and shot off their pieces in a loud straggling volley.

‘The settlement is beset,’ said Nicky; ‘the Spaniards are on us in great force, and they must have been lurking in the lagoon for days; this explains the cowardly treachery of the rope,’ and he broke into loud invectives against our enemies, to all of which I most heartily said ‘Amen.’ For was not this attack most wanton? Here were we, living in a wilderness belonging to no man, killing those wild animals which God hath appointed to be human food, and so far surely performing a service to our fellows, when down come the Spaniards upon us out of pure arrogance and ill-blood, hanging and shooting our defenceless hunters, and, as we had no doubt, now attempting to destroy our huts and the property, for the accumulation of which we had honestly sweated and toiled. But such it has been ever since any flag but that of Spain floated in these seas. The mariners of many nations came naturally to enrich themselves with the produce of the new-discovered lands; but Spain arrogantly desired to squeeze in her greedy gripe the whole New World! Therefore, is it wonderful that we—the sailors of England, Scotland, France, Holland, and Portugal—should give the Spaniards fierce and eager battle? It was they who began the warfare; and such being the case, we paid them back in their own coin—usually, indeed, giving them the worst of the bargain.

Such were the natural thoughts which passed through my head as we sat listening to the roar of battle, which we could hear but faintly, being more than a league distant from home. Presently, without speaking, we addressed ourselves steadily to our paddies, and it was not long before, to our great joy, we shot out of the dreary forest of mangroves, and found ourselves in the clear water of the lagoon. The boat which had given us chase was not anywhere to be seen; but we now heard the firing distinctly, for it was kept up very hot and constant. By this time the tide was running out like a mill stream, and the canoe was swept down with great rapidity before it. There was no wind, and the current had a glassy look; the air, too, was inexpressibly sultry. Great wreaths of dense vapour hung upon the hills, and the firmament was one louring sea of black clouds piled one above another, as though climbing up on each other’s vapoury shoulders from the horizon to the zenith. Presently the gloom increased to a foreboding blackness, which hung upon land and sea. The sounds of the birds and the insects were hushed, and in the intervals of the firing we heard only the low continuous rush of the turbid tide washing amid the mangroves. All at once a great flash of lightning tore, as it were, the black firmament into a blue gulf of flame, and at the same instant the thunder came, not rumbling or pealing, as I have heard it in Britain, but exploding with a splitting crash which seemed right above us, and which went through and through our ears. A quick succession of flashes and peals followed, so that I was almost blinded and deafened, for I had never seen or heard such terrible thunder or lightning; and then, at the recommendation of Nicky, who said that the storm would probably clear up with a squall, which we were ill prepared to face in the open lagoon, we paddled into a little opening in the amphibious forest, and made the canoe fast amid the trees. Here we abode for more than half-an-hour, the thunder and lightning continuing to be fearful; and the effect of each flash, gleaming down through the thick leaves and branches of the network of boughs above us, and lighting up with a grim glare the unwholesome marsh, with its slimy stake-like boles of trees, its long twisting withes, and its black oily pools and channels,—the effect of all this was, I say, very fearfully grand. But at length the rain began to fall; the gloom deepened, so that under the mangroves it was as murk as midnight; but gazing from beneath them to the opposite side of the lagoon, we saw dimly a sort of moving and rending of the vapoury clouds, and then a sudden and perpendicular descent upon the hills of what appeared to be countless streaks of mist or vapour, binding, as it were, the green earth by webs of watery thread to the firmament. This, Nicky said, was the rain, and truly we found it so; for the misty appearance spread fast and far, and we heard a mighty rustling sound, which became louder and louder, until the windows of heaven above us were opened, and down, not in mere drops, as it appeared to me, but in opaque sheets and masses of falling water, tumbled that blinding rain, lashing the sea as though it were smitten by rods into churning foam, and beating with a continuous assault our leafy canopy, until it poured through the drenched branches in tiny waterfalls. Meanwhile we cowered in the canoe dripping from every limb, and watching the weather over the lagoon. Before long, there was a sudden rift or opening torn through the veiling fog, and the perpendicular lines of the rain became slanting, or were broken and dispersed. At the same moment, we saw distant ridges which were hid and lost before in the vapour, now standing out clearly and rigidly in the thinning air, and Nicky whispered to me to note how the feathery palms were bending and shaking, as though great airy hands were seeking to drag them up by the roots. It was the clearing squall, and a few moments only passed away ere heavy dank puffs sighed through the mangroves with a wet, warm, unwholesome savour, as the steams of a caldron where masses of putrid vegetation were simmering, and then, driving before it a broad belt of tumbling foam, and whistling and hurtling through the air with a sound as of rushing wings and blowing trumpets, the blast came down from the far-off mountains and fell upon the sea. I have often seen more violent squalls since, I have also been afloat and ashore during a hurricane or tornado, but this was the first West Indian tempest I encountered, and I did not soon forget the great grandeur of the elements—the torn clouds flying in misty fragments—the blast whizzing through the trees, with a long loud eldritch cry—the foam gathered up from the sea, like the drift from the great wreaths of snow at Christmas on a Scottish muir—the rustling hosts of leaves, and rent and riven foliage scattered through the air—all the confusion of wild noises, the dash of the troubled sea, and the constant crackling and smashing of boughs and branches, torn out and blown fast away to leeward.

In the midst of the elemental strife there shone upon the waving and dripping woods, and the torn and tumbling sea, a pale watery ray of sunlight. This was the indication that the fury of the storm was over. The broken clouds showed patches of deep azure here and there; the mists had been rolled away to sea in the impetuous currents of air; presently the gust lulled; the foam flew no longer about the water; and the birds began to cry from out the thickets. Nicky therefore counselled that we should again put to sea.

‘The squall,’ he said, ‘must have put an end to the fight, and if the Spaniards be attacking our huts from their ships, which is most likely, they may well have been either driven ashore upon the bluff, or blown out to sea.’

So we paddled cautiously along the edge of the mangroves, listening for any sound of the renewal of the combat, but heard none. It was obvious that, one way or another, the matter was decided—either that our comrades had been overpowered, or that the Spaniards had been forced by the weather to discontinue the attack. At length, we approached a point in the shore where the character of the bank changed—the ground heaving itself boldly above the high-water mark, and the mangroves ceasing to grow; a little further on, a bluff of limestone rock, overgrown with brush and creeping trees, and its base green with tangled and slippery sea-weeds, stretched out into the water, and from the top of this we knew our settlement was visible. Having, therefore, made fast the canoe in a suitable place, we clambered through the dripping grass and leaves to the summit, and there saw a piteous sight. The rock being high, we overlooked several small capes and bays which stretched between us and our late habitation, and saw plainly the green bank upon which our huts stood, and the pretty clear bay, with its crescent of white sand and shingle beneath. In this bay—with her top-gallant-masts struck, and top-masts and yards lowered—there lay a great Spanish ship, carrying not less than thirty guns, with immensely high forecastle and poop. Moored somewhat nearer the beach was the smaller Spanish ship which had already attacked us, riding also very snugly with her top hamper lowered; and astern of them, and ashore upon the rocky bluff which formed the seaward horn of our bay, was a small sloop, which, as we conjectured, had been driven from her moorings by the force of the tempest, and now lay bodily upon the rocks, the sea beating and breaking over her. But the piteous sight was our huts and storehouses—some lay in ruins on the ground, torn and shattered by cannon-balls, others had been set on fire, but the rain having so plenteously descended, had extinguished the flames, which, however, still smouldered in the blackened ashes and amid the charred timber, sending up thin volumes of bluish-grey smoke. All over the beach were scattered the bales and casks in which we had been used to store the provisions we made; and the principal of these the Spanish robbers were removing into the great ship; but, saddest sight of all, round the burning huts, and upon the shingle down to the water’s edge, were strewn the corpses of our late comrades, they having evidently sold their lives dear, for many Spanish soldiers and seamen were stretched out starkly among them.

We long remained crouched amid the brushwood, regarding this sad spectacle as though fascinated by its horrors. Who had escaped? we thought; and, if any, where, and how? Not a man in our company but who was brave as the steel he wielded; but what could a handful of undisciplined hunters and sailors do against the broadsides of two Spanish men-of-war?

Nicky and I looked at each other mournfully—unarmed, and fainting with hunger and thirst, what were we to do. Under the torments of the latter infliction, however, we found that we need not long suffer. In the hollow’s of the rocks, and the reservoirs of the large green leaves of divers plants, the heavy rain had left abundance of water, of which we drank and were refreshed. After this, we sat down in a sheltered nook to hold a council of war. The Spaniards were still busy upon the beach, and occasionally straggling into the woods. Boats were continually passing from the ships to our shingle wharf, and we saw preparations being made to warp the sloop off the rocks, from which we concluded that she had not been, much damaged. Nicky and I had hardly begun to consult upon our condition, when we suddenly heard the voices of men in a suppressed tone, not far from us in the thick underwood. As the speakers might be Spanish, we ceased to talk, and lay close, burying our persons, as it were, in the long coarse grass, and listening with all our ears. The distant talking continued, but in what tongue we could not tell, for the wind still blew in gusts, and ever and anon carried away the sound. At length, just as we were despairing of making out who our neighbours were, I felt something wet and cold glide from under my bare leg, and turning sharply round, I saw the grass moving, and the green glistening skin of a snake gliding over my flesh. Involuntarily, and with a great shout, I started up. ‘It is all over,’ said Nicky; ‘we are discovered.’ But in a moment a gruff voice hallooed—

‘Who goes there?’

And we both joyfully cried out in reply, that we were friends and comrades. Immediately there was a great rustling in the boughs, and running up thither we presently found a remnant of our own company, who grasped our hands, and could scarce speak for joy at seeing us. The men who thus joined us were five in number: Ezra Hoskins, an English seaman of Dover, called by us Stout Jem, not only for his size and muscle, which were prodigious, but because of his boldness and fearlessness of heart; then there was another Englishman, from Newcastle, whose real name I know not, because I never heard him called by any appellation but that of Black Diamond; and a Hollander, a sturdy slow-witted fellow, from Helvoetsluys, near the Brill, whom we called Meinheer; the other two persons were the Mosquito Indians, Blue Peter and Jack, skilful strikers of fish and manatee, and very attached, faithful fellows.

You may be sure that we had much to tell each other of our adventures. First, Nicky narrated our mischance in the Mangrove Creek, from the devil-like snares of the crafty and cowardly Spaniards. And then, Stout Jem told how, in the evening of the previous day, the Indians being fishing towards the open sea, saw the sloop working up with the last of the sea-breeze, but considered her to be a friend, from one of the windward islands, come to load; and how the Buccaneers, being thus thrown off their guard, had hoisted lights upon the headland, to guide her after it fell dark. It had certainly surprised them to see answering lights, as it appeared, further up the lagoon, and they had set a good watch, and were wakeful in consequence, not well knowing what to expect. As the night wore on, and our canoe did not make its appearance, their anxiety increased, and towards morning a Mosquito man, who had been hunting manatee in the sedgy banks of the savannahs, came into the settlement, and reported that he had heard the oars of boats pulling in the Mangrove Channels, and that he had seen lights glimmering amid the night-fog. It was now evident that there was something in the wind, but they never reckoned on being attacked by such a force as came against them. Besides, the strangers might be all French from Tortugas, or St. Christopher’s, or Dutch from Curaçoa, and might not exactly know how the old settlers would relish an intrusion in their hunting-grounds. It was not until almost day, that our comrades saw a great ship coming into the bay, being towed against the land-wind or terral, which was then waxing faint, by her boats. A pirogue went off to her, but not returning, those on shore concluded that the arrival was friendly, and that their comrades had stayed on board to carouse, and they were only undeceived upon the rising of the sun, when they saw two Spanish men-of-war, besides the sloop, lying in the bay, and were saluted with hot salvos of artillery. Seeing their mistake, the Buccaneers, following their usual tactics, leaped into their canoes and tried to board. But the Spaniards hove great stones and cold shot into the boats, keeping up at the same time a sharp discharge of musketry, so that the canoes being broken and swamped, those who were not maimed or killed of their crews, were fain to swim to land, where they were again attacked by a body of Spaniards, who, with loud shouts, issued from the woods, proving how skilfully the whole position had been invested. The Buccaneers, being thus sorely discomfited, retreated into the cover of the brushwood and trees, and maintained a distant fight, aiming chiefly at the Spaniards who showed themselves on board the ships, and those who emerged from the seaward-side of the huts. This lasted nearly all the morning, when the weather becoming threatening, the Spaniards, who were until then held as it were in check, determined to make a great effort, and calling to their men ashore to take care of themselves, opened a great fire upon the huts, the balls crashing through and through them, and, at the same time, flinging fire-balls and other combustibles, so that presently one-half of the settlement was in flames, and the other demolished. Then the Dons landed in great force, and were met by the remnant of our comrades, who fought desperately. But the Spaniards having overwhelming numbers, finally routed them, and drove them by small parties into the woods. It was at the conclusion of this affray that the storm came on, and since its abatement our comrades had been roving along the shore, seeking any other survivors of the fight, but hitherto finding none.

CHAPTER VI.
HOW THE DEADLY FEVER OF THE COAST FASTENS ON ME.

Such was the history of the treacherous Spanish attack which destroyed the settlement of the Marmousette. Our first care was to learn how the party we had met in with were armed, and great was our delight to find that the Indians carried two guns apiece, nearly all the muskets in the village having been brought into the woods. Besides there was abundance of ammunition. After a short consultation, it was determined to take the canoe, and although our number would somewhat overload her, to cross to the other side of the bay, where we had more security against being molested. Having therefore carefully looked to our pieces, we clambered down the bank, and standing by the canoe, unanimously invested Stout Jem with the command of the expedition. As the Indians used the paddles most dexterously, they were set to work to propel us, and with Stout Jem for steersman, we set out. On our way I began to experience a drowsiness, which I had before felt, but immediately checked. Now, however, the sensation, amounting indeed to one of impending stupor, began again to overpower me. My chin fell upon my chest, and I had little snatches of disturbed sleep, in which curious confused ideas, and odd combinations of words and things, seemed to float into my brain, and which, when I started up again, which I would do every minute, fled away like phantoms, so that I could not for my life remember what I had been dreaming of the moment before. All this time I was inwardly urged to speak, I seemed to have nothing to say, but still something forced my tongue and lips to move, and all at once I called out—

‘Is that a black corby on the thorn-bush near the boat’s grapnel?’

At this extraordinary speech, the Englishmen in the canoe turned sharp round to me, and Stout Jem asked what I meant. At his voice all the dreamy sensations left me, and I felt myself blushing up to the roots of my hair, and wondering what I had said, for I remembered not a word.

‘Here,’ said Stout Jem, kindly, ‘swallow this, my good boy;’ and he held me a great flask of spirits. ‘You have been breathing over-much marsh fog on an empty stomach, but you’ll live to pay off Jack Spaniard yet.’

I took the flask and held it to my head, when suddenly the greasy leathern bottle appeared to swell and lengthen, until it seemed a puncheon which I held. A curious nervous feeling came crawling over my limbs, and my breath grew thick, and my eyes dim. The first taste of the brandy banished these sensations, and the cordial marvellously restored me.

‘You must eat somewhat when we go ashore,’ said Nicky. ‘I am ravenous; and then we will consult on what we can do to take our revenge.’

‘No, no; no eat,’ said Blue Peter, the Mosquito Indian; ‘sleep mosh, sleep good, smoke pipe, and sleep cool and long.’

But I felt so much better that I fully intended to make a good dinner. We landed in one of the bushy coves which abound in the frith of the Marmousette, and which could not be seen by the Spaniards on the other bank. Stout Jem then despatched the Indians to hunt, and ordered the rest of the party to aid in building a hut. Nicky and myself, however, were so weak from want of food, that we were excused; and the Dutchman having some biscuits and smoked beef in his pocket, generously gave us enough to make a good meal. Meantime, Stout Jem, Black Diamond, and Meinheer, were actively at work. They had two hatchets, and their long knives, and with these they felled and prepared sufficient wood for their purpose, driving stakes into the earth, and interweaving leafy branches, with the skill of experienced foresters. Nicky and I were then set to work to pull a quantity of coarse long grass, which grew upon the beach, for beds; and one of the Mosquito men returning, he kindled a fire, and began to cook the hind quarter of a fine boar which he had shot in the wood. Meantime, I was plucking the grass, sometimes sitting by the seaside, for I felt weak and ill. The food I had eaten was no refreshment. My temples throbbed strangely and my skin was fevered and dry. Then these horrible wandering thoughts began to come again, and I squeezed my head with my hands, as though I could thus drive them out. Sometimes I thought I felt again the hot marsh vapour sickening the air; then the sea-breeze fanning me, I would tear the clothes from my chest, and put back my long dank hair to let the blessed cool wind play freely on me, and cool my seething blood.

All at once I saw, under the shade of a genipa tree, a tall stout man, who stood motionless, and watched me. Deeming him a Spaniard, I would have shouted out, but my tongue refused to obey me, and turning hot and dry, rattled as it were against my teeth, while no sound but a low hiss could I form. Still the figure stood there; and now I saw a glimmer as of a naked weapon which it held. The sun being now setting, his rays came slanting down, and one of these quivering through the trees fell full upon the face of the stranger, and I saw that it was Walshe, with his great eyes glaring at me, just as they glared when the shark rose in the mangrove canal, and pulled him down beneath his crunching teeth. I stood trembling, and trying to pray. The features were livid and blue, and the eyes sunk and expressionless, yet horribly bright. Just at this moment one of the last puffs of the sea-breeze shook the trees around, and the sunlight falling in a different stream, and chequered by other branches upon the appearance, the face gradually seemed to change. Feature after feature melted away, until the agonized countenance of the unfortunate seaman was gone, and, instead of it, there remained the massive features and pensive gravity of my preserver on board the Frenchman—Wright. Just then the weapon, which I had formerly observed to glitter, moved, and I saw the figure heave up a great broad axe on one hand, and point to it with the other. It was, indeed, the regicide, with the emblem and the instrument of his deed.

Making a sudden effort, I burst the leaden bonds which seemed to confine me, and with a strange courage rushed forward. As I did the phantom grew dim and dimmer, and when I placed my hand upon its breast, I felt but the gnarled bark of the genipa tree, whilst the axe, at the same instant, seemed to become a branch with clustering foliage dancing in the wind. I grew directly sick and faint.

‘Oh, my God!’ I murmured, ‘I am going mad! My brain is whirling, and my eyes make me see things which are not and so I sank upon the ground, and sobbed. Presently, I was somewhat better, and I manned myself. ‘It is but a feverish attack,’ I thought. ‘I will return and try to sleep.’ It was, however, with some difficulty that I arrived at the hut. My limbs felt as if loaded with lead, and the pain of an intense headache went like hot iron wires into my brain. When I reached our half-finished abode, I saw everything through a sort of haze, and the voices at my ear appeared to come from miles away. I was soon placed, lying upon bundles of grass, in the windward side of the hut, and after that I remember little more of what happened during three nights and three days. Only I know that my sufferings were very great; that my mind appeared to ramble as though it were a disturbed spirit or ghost flitting all over the world. Now, I would seem to be far away on the pleasant coast of Fife. The sun would shine, and the corn rustle and the yellow broom by the burnie’s banks smell sweet in the summer’s breath. But I could enjoy nought. I was as it were seared, and the sources of pleasure dried up. I saw the forms of people I loved, but I could speak to none. I saw my mother sitting on a sandy knowe, resting her head upon her hand, and looking over the blue sea. But when I would embrace her, there came darkness and pain, and the vision vanished. Then, perhaps, in my delirium, I would fancy I was at sea; sometimes it was in the old fisher-boat, the Royal Thistle. No wind would stir, the sky would be glowing like a heated copper globe, and the boat would lie moveless as though nailed to the unstirring sea. Suddenly my father’s eyes would look into mine with a long wan stare, and so would we sit glaring at each other, like famishing and despairing beasts, while months, and years, and ages, would appear to come and go and bring no change. Anon, the mood would alter. Then I was on board the old brig, Jean Livingstone, with a merry breeze and a blithesome crew. The bonny crags of St. Andrew’s Bay would seem under our lee, with the ruined towers of abbeys and churches rising over the green links, and fading from our sight, as we worked gallantly seawards. But the scene would straightway change to a furious storm in a mid-winter night, with the foam of the sea and the snow-flakes flying together. Then round the light of the binnacle there would crowd ghastly faces, staring into mine—faces with shaggy antique beards like the ancient sailors of Sir Patrick Spens, long, long sleeping in the wild North Sea; and so surrounded by these fishy eyes of hapless drowned mariners, I would feel the good brig seem to founder beneath my feet, so that I would start struggling up from my bed of grass, crying out that I was drowning—that the boiling waves were choking me!

This was my seasoning fever, as they called it; and, though it did not last long—thanks to the good treatment and the medicinal herbs of the Mosquito men—it left me passing weak and helpless. I recovered my reason all at once, as one waking from the stupor of deep sleep. My hair had been cut close, and my head was tied round with freshly-plucked plantain leaves, constantly drenched with water. I lay upon blankets, none of which we possessed when I was taken ill, and my linen was reasonably clean and fresh. The wattled hut was open to the breeze on every side, and as it contained but one bed more, I guessed that it had been given up for my use and that of my partner, Nicky, as indeed it had. Looking around, I saw several pots, pans, baskets, and boxes scattered about, from which I concluded that the Spaniards had departed, and that my comrades had been able to recover some of the wreck of their property from the ruins of their habitations. And this, indeed, I found afterwards to be the case.

I was too weak at first to call out, and so remained in silence, enjoying a delicious languor, and cool and moist from head to foot. The fever had thoroughly left me, and I felt thankful and devoutly glad. Presently I distinguished the well-known smell of the smouldering fire of the boucan floating into the hut, and soon afterwards, Nicky, with bare arms and grimed hands, entered; his eyes sparkled when he saw me so much recovered, and presently calling the rest together, they all shook hands with me, and told me to be of good cheer, for I had fore-reached on the marsh fever, and would soon be quite hearty. And so, indeed, it was. I grew very hungry, and, being well fed, regained my strength fast, so that, two or three days after the fever left my blood, I was abroad sniffing the cool breezes of the sea.

Except two men—both French—who had joined when I was ill, none of the survivors of our original party had turned up; some of them had no doubt been made prisoners by the Spaniards, others might have started off along the coast to the eastward, as, indeed, many previously intended; but we feared that upwards of one half of our comrades were either captives, who would be forced to labour in the mines of Cuba, or had already—and the fate of these latter was more to be envied—died with their wounds, in front, giving battle to the Spanish robbers.

Being little able to work for some time after my recovery, and the rest of the party being engaged in the usual toil of hunting wild cattle, and preserving the meat by the boucan, it was often my habit to take the canoe and proceed in her down towards the mouth of the bay, so as to enjoy the fresh and briny breeze which came from the north-west across the ocean. To make these expeditions more pleasant, I prepared a mast with a small lug sail, such as the canoe could bear, and I could manage with ease. Almost my first trip, when thus provided, was to the scene of the late contest. I found nearly every trace of a settlement destroyed. The rude jetty was all but demolished, and over the ruins of the shattered huts, great crops of luxuriant herbage had grown, from which I often started snakes and venomous insects, such as centipedes and scorpions, who delighted to make their nests in the holes and crevices which they found in abundance amidst the ruins of our huts. On a sweet spot of green-sward, under the shadow of a great spreading tree, there were rows of little mounds, very green. Here our poor comrades lay buried. The Spaniards, it seems, had interred their dead, and on their departure, which happened on the day after I was attacked with fever, all our party had gone across the bay, and laid the dead Buccaneers beneath the mould. Upon the bark of the great tree I was at pains to carve a deep cross; for, though the symbol in Europe be the mark of a corrupt and idolatrous church, still I felt that in the wilderness it might bear a truer and a wider meaning, and point out to future strangers that the mounds beneath the tree covered the graves of Christian men.

CHAPTER VII.
THE BUCCANEERS TIRE OF THE LIFE ON SHORE, AND DETERMINE
TO GO AGAIN TO SEA.

Searching about the place I often discovered little matters, which I stored in the canoe and brought to our new settlement, such as axes and hammers, harpoons for striking fish, fragments of cordage, rope and canvas; and twice I dug up from the ruins, boxes containing seamen’s clothes, which were very welcome to us all; in one of these trunks I discovered some Spanish books, including a grammar and dictionary, and of these I hastened to avail myself, inasmuch as I saw that a knowledge of this language might soon be of the greatest service to me. Neither did my companions grudge that I thus applied much of my time to study, for none of them knew more than a few words of Spanish, and they were quite aware of the advantage of having one at least of that party conversant with that tongue.

Thus, time passed away tolerably pleasantly. The season for the arrival of the ships expected to load with the boucan prepared for them at the village on the east side of the bay, having passed, and none of them appearing, we concluded that stragglers from our old company had succeeded in making their way to Jamaica, Tortugas, and other islands, and had informed the merchants and planters there of the attacks of the Spaniards, and the utter ruin of the settlement, adding, very probably, that they were the sole survivors of the massacre. It, therefore, became a question with us what to do. The Frenchmen were for journeying along the coast to the westward, and then watching an opportunity to go across to Tortugas; but Stout Jem told them they might do so if they pleased, but he would prefer an island where his own countrymen had something to say in matters, an opinion which the rest of the English, as well as the Dutchmen and the Indians, who do not love the French, joined in very cordially. The Frenchmen, who, to do them justice, were very good fellows, on this gave up their proposition and swore that they would follow Stout Jem to the death.

‘Say you so, my boys?’ cried the Dover mariner. ‘Then so be it; and what I propose is this. Here be nine stout men of us, for I count the Indians as good as white blood. Our peaceful trade in beef and hides, hath been ruined by these accursed Spaniards, so I vote for the sea again.’

This proposal meeting with a clamour of approbation, Stout Jem flung aloft his hat.

‘We have had enough of the shore this bout, mates,’ quoth he. ‘I want to hear the wind whistle through tarry ropes again, and feel a stout ship dancing under my feet.’

‘Yah, yah,’ said the Hollander. ‘We zaal be Zee Roovers once more;’ and all the company flung up their hats like our leader, and swore that they would take deep vengeance on Jack Spaniard. For my part, I was well pleased, for I felt I was a sailor, and that I had no business to be following a hunter’s life ashore. I had not very much taste for shooting bullocks, and still less for breaking them up, cooking and storing them; and, although I had always cheerfully taken my turn to watch the boucan fire, my mind would often stray away upon the ocean, and I would pant for the fresh sea-breeze, and the dash of the foaming brine. As for my comrade, Nicky, he was that easy kind of going man, that he seemed to care very little whether he was on land or sea. He worked, ate, drank, sang and slept, and then rose merrily next day to go through the same routine. But Stout Jem, who was the life and soul, as well as the captain of our party, was a sailor all over. He had been many years in the Caribbean sea, was a good pilot, understood every current, and every indication of the weather; and moreover, knew by heart every buccaneering trick for easing of their cargoes the treasure-ships of the Dons.

But before we could go to sea, we must have a vessel; and saving the canoe, which was hardly fit for a cruiser we were as unprovided as though we lived on the top of a mountain. There was nothing therefore for it, as we could not go in a ship to the Spaniards, but to wait until the Spaniards should come in a ship to us, that is to say, in such a small ship as we could master, and afterwards manage. We might indeed have not found much difficulty in entering an English privateer, many of whom we knew were hovering on the coast; but being acquainted with each other well, we preferred in the first place to capture such a small craft as we could man, afterwards making such additions to our crew as might from time to time be resolved on. In the meanwhile, we continued to hunt and prepare the flesh of wild cattle and boars, so that we should have a good stock of provisions when we were ready to go to sea.

Being, as I have said, always fonder of water than land, I often induced the Mosquito Indians to allow me to go with them in their canoe, when they went to strike fish and manatee. Generally the Indians permit no one to accompany them in these expeditions, and if they are forced to allow a white man into the canoe, they will purposely miss their aim at every fish or animal they strike, and so return empty handed. However, I being a great favourite with Blue Peter, who had indeed saved my life in the fever; and losing no opportunity, by such petty gifts as I had it in my power to make, of showing my gratitude, he made no objections to my accompanying him and his comrade in many of their expeditions.

We used to start before sunrise, Blue Peter in the bows of the canoe, and Jack in the stern, both paddling quickly, while I sat amidships in the bottom. No Europeans I ever saw can paddle so silently, swiftly, and surely as the Indians on the Mosquito coast. They hold the shaft of the paddle almost upright, never touching the gunwale therewith, or splashing rudely in the water. On the contrary, the broad part of the paddle dips as clean as a knife, and the canoe glides with a perfectly smooth and rapid motion, so that, did you not observe how fast the water ripples by, you would hardly think you were moving at all. When pursuing the manatee, our usual game, the head of the canoe was turned up the creek, to the higher banks, where the shore was sedgy and low, where the mangroves reared their dismal groves, and where, the water gradually becoming brackish and muddy, there is found floating and waving from the banks, the long narrow-bladed grass on which the manatee loves to feed. The creature we hunted is a harmless beast, like a great seal. It is a misfortune for himself that he has tender white flesh, tasting like veal, and that his skin makes very good thongs and straps, which the Buccaneers use for divers purposes. Were it not so, he might float unmolested in the warm muddy water, nibbling the streaming grass, as the lazy current carries his heavy form slowly up and down the mangrove canals, twinkling his little pig-like eyes, and anxiously jerking his great stupid-looking head, if a cayman rolls with a splash from the muddy bank into the river, or a squatting flock of wild-ducks rise with a whirr from the sedgy surface of a neighbouring pool.

But the poor manatee, being good to eat, must submit to be harpooned and eaten. When we came to the feeding-ground which he loves, the Indians would paddle with double caution, and Blue Peter, who was the striker, would carefully examine his harpoon, and see that it lay convenient to his hand. The spear used for capturing the manatee is about eight feet long. The iron barb, a heavy and sharp piece of metal, is attached to the thicker end, and to the other is fastened a circular knob called the bobwood, round which is wound a strong line, one end of which is fast to the bobwood, the other to the iron of the harpoon. When the weapon is flung, the barb alone sinks into the creature’s flesh, the staff coming unloosed from the iron, and the line rapidly unwinding from the bobwood, as the stricken creature dives in its agony and fear. The Indians then paddle after the staff, and having seized it, gradually wear out the strength of the game, and kill it.

I shall not soon forget the first manatee hunt I saw. We embarked at early dawn, and glided silently along the green shore, from which the mist of the night was lifting and rolling in white clouds far up the mountains. After long skirting the mangrove wood, we turned from the main channel into a narrow creek, slipping along in perfect silence. Listen as I would, I could not even hear the water at the canoe’s bow, her mould was so perfect, and so steady the strokes which propelled her. The drip of the water from the paddles, as they were lifted, alone made a slight tinkling sound. The sea-breeze had not yet begun to blow, and the sun came down scorchingly upon the tangled wood and the green water, the surface of which glanced like bright, clear oil. Presently Blue Peter laid his paddle noiselessly down, and took up the harpoon. I looked anxiously ahead. Clustered round the trunk of a vast mangrove, which rose up out of the water, there was a tangled heap of soaking grass and weeds. The kneeling Indian crouched as if he were a graven image of ebony or bronze, and I saw the floating weeds move, and heard a grinding, spluttering sound, as of a cow grazing. Then the Indian moved a finger of his left hand, which he had kept outstretched; his comrade at the stern saw the sign, and a peculiar sweep of the paddle sent the canoe slantingly towards the weeds. As she diverged from her course, Blue Peter stood erect, and raising his right arm, with all the muscles swelling out like knots and lumps of iron, darted the harpoon, as it appeared to me, into the centre of the moving weeds. Instantly there was a great splash and plunge, and the canoe rocked upon a wave, which scattered the floating herbage, so that I saw disappearing in the water the broad brown back of a creature as large as a cow. Blue Peter, the instant he struck, sank again upon his knees, and snatching up the paddle, prepared to move. Meantime I could see nothing of the harpoon, for it had been carried under water. The Mosquito men then talked to each other in their own tongue, pointing to the direction in which the manatee appeared to have dived, and then began to paddle lustily. About five minutes might have elapsed, when Blue Peter exclaimed, ‘Ho!—there!’ and pointed. I, looking in the same direction, descried the staff of the harpoon seeming to fly along the surface of the water, the round bobwood throwing up a foam two feet high. Then the Mosquito-men pulled hard in chase. I could never have thought that their gaunt, brown bodies had so much strength in them. The muscles of their naked arms and chests strained and swelled, the paddle-shafts cracked, and the canoe seemed at every stroke to be lifted out of the water. Still they did not gain upon the harpoon towed by the manatee, but, on the contrary, rather lost, so that I began to fear that we would never see either harpoon or quarry; but, on a sudden, the motion of the former stopped, and it floated tranquilly upon the water. The manatee, being fatigued, had sunk to the bottom, and lay there. We now paddled carefully up, and Blue Peter caught the staff, and began to pull upon the line. Immediately that the wounded creature felt the smart, it started again. I saw the line vibrate and stretch out in a direction abeam of the canoe; but, in a moment, Jack, who held the steering-paddle, swept the bows round in the direction taken by the manatee, while Blue Peter fastened the line to the prow of the canoe. There was a jerk or two, though not so much as I expected, and straightway we began to move ahead, Peter crouching in the bows, signing to Jack how to steer. For near a quarter of an hour did the wounded beast drag us through the water, sometimes so swiftly that the foam whizzed past us—anon changing his course so suddenly, that had not the canoe been steered with perfect skill, he would have dragged us under water. Then, his strength beginning to ebb from him fast, we hauled upon the line, and gradually closed with our prey, whose blood was now reddening the water. I pitied the poor creature, as he put his head above the surface, and grunted and moaned after his fashion, but he was soon out of his pain. Slipping alongside of the carcass, Blue Peter passed his long knife around its throat, and after one or two struggles and plunges, the manatee turned over upon its back, dead. We towed him ashore, and securing him to a tree, presently paddled off in search of more game of the same sort.

But upon the whole, I better loved our fishing expeditions than the hunt of the manatee. The poor defenceless brute always inspired me with pity. There is a meekness about his face which moves one. He makes no attempt to turn to bay or show fight, but is slaughtered as unresistingly as a calf, and the haunts he loves are the muddy and unwholesome canals among the mangrove swamps. But in spearing fish we often rowed down the bay to the rocky points and ledges of reef which formed the outermost horns of the lagoon. There the clear, blue sea, white spangled by the merry strength of the sea-breeze, stretched illimitably out, and the everlasting surf flung aloft its clouds of sparkling spray, high up among the rocks, now and then giving the bushes a taste of the savour of brine. It was in the still pools and channels, formed by breakwaters of rock, that the canoe was then navigated. Let the sea-breeze be blowing, and the surging swells be tossing in, as hard and fast as they might, there was always calm water behind the reefs—so calm and so clear! I might think that I was looking into the swirlings of our trout-pool in the Balwearie Burn, but for the bright, jagged coral, and the strange sea-weeds at the bottom, and the still stranger fishes floating, as it were, in pure mid air, but a fathom down beneath the keel of the canoe. Gliding over these translucent waters, sometimes scraping the battered side of our skiff against the rough coral edges; sometimes receiving a sparkling shower of spray when a bigger wave than ordinary burst upon the outside reef, the Mosquito men were in their glory. Blue Peter stood erect in the bow, his black, flashing eyes fixed on the water as though he would note every scollop in the edge of the jagged sea-weed, or every wavy ridge on the bed of white sand, and his long thin fish-spear darting occasionally down into the flood to be straightway drawn, bending and quivering, back with a noble fish, writhing and floundering, impaled upon the barbs. Always upon these expeditions I kept a good look-out seaward, and often mounted pinnacles of rock that I might have the better view. Once or twice I saw a sail, apparently set on board a small vessel, slipping quickly down to the westward, or beating painfully to windward; but the barks were too far at sea for me to make out aught of their character or country.

During this period of my sojourn in Hispaniola it was our custom to spend the evenings together in the principal hut—that which was first constructed, and which was of an ample bigness. Here, seated round a great chest, which served for a table, we smoked our pipes, drank pretty deep draughts of the rich palm wine, and told in turn stories of our lives and adventures. The hut being only wattled, and that very imperfectly, the strong land breeze blew through and through it, causing the flame of our solitary lamp to waver and flicker, and not unfrequently putting it out altogether. We sat upon bundles made of our clothes, or heaps of dried grass, and must, in sooth, have appeared a parcel of strange ragamuffins, with our faces burnt to mahogany colour by the sun; our hair and beards long, tangled, and matted; and our clothes, being coarse doublets and short jackets, cut in uncouth shapes, and often red and greasy with the blood and fat of the animals which it was our business to kill. Stout Jem, being reckoned the head and commander of our party, sat on a kind of settle for a throne, and the rest of us crowded as near the great chest as we could, the two Mosquito men excepted, who commonly sat apart squatted on their hams, and speaking to each other softly in their own tongue. Sometimes we would play dice on these evenings, not for money, of which we had none, but for the carcasses of the cattle which we had killed and flayed; but as the play was always fair and the dice true, it was generally found that no one either lost or gained much in the long run. It was, however, the storytelling nights I loved the best. Many of the tales then told were indeed very vulgar and common, and unworthy of being recorded, turning solely upon butcheries of the Spaniards at sea, and upon great seasons of debauch, after a successful cruise, in Tortugas or Jamaica. Not a few tales were also told of ghosts and omens, and such extravagances, which the superstitious nature of sailors causes them to believe and to hearken greedily to. I heard many such histories both at this time and afterwards, and I design to insert one here, not because I think it at all credible, but because it is a very good specimen of the histories of ghosts, phantoms, and other supernatural appearances which were current among the Buccaneers. This story was told by Stout Jem very solemnly, and listened to with no less eagerness; and in recounting it I will endeavour to put the matter into the narrator’s words, of which, for an uncultivated seaman, he had a good flow. Stout Jem called his history ‘The Legend of Foul-Weather Don,’ and to it I will devote the next chapter.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE LEGEND OF FOUL-WEATHER DON.

Stout Jem told it thus:—

‘My story, mates, is a strange one, and I say not whether it be true or false. I heard it in the middle watch, one fine night, slipping down the coast of Porto Rico, and the seaman who told it to us, said, that when he was a boy he sailed with the man to whom the thing happened, in a big ship which hailed from Bristol. That the spirits of the dead walk the world—ay, and sail the seas—is a thing I cannot say nay to. I cannot tell you that I ever saw anything of the sort myself, but credible mariners and grave and sober men have assured me of things which have made my marrow creep, and the hair stand up, all bristling out of my flesh. Well, then, about this story. The man to whom the adventure happened, was by name Ned Purvis, a mariner. It must be nigh sixty years ago since he sailed out of the port of London, on a trading voyage to the coast of Guinea. Purvis was then a younker, there being little better than a year since he had followed the sea, and this was his first voyage abroad; he having undertaken it in the ship of his uncle, a good old man, of a mild disposition, and well loved of the crew. As for Ned Purvis, he was a reckless, ruffling blade, that cared neither for man nor devil, when his blood was up, and who thought but little of the glimmer of a drawn cutlass, or the flash of a pistol, in a quarrel. But as I told you, mates, the old man, the captain, was mild of speech and of heart, and greatly loved his nephew, and thought much of the lad’s spunk and wild spirit. So they sailed southerly, as became navigators, bound as they were to traffic for spices and rich oils and gold with the blacks of Africa.

‘Having lost sight of England, they had prosperous winds and pleasant weather, and nought occurred until the seventh day from that in which they saw the last of the white cliffs. Then they were just moving through the water and no more, for the breeze was but a puff, and the sun going down, when all of a sudden they saw a boat with a man in it, so close aboard that you might toss a biscuit into her. It was curious, mates, that almost all the men on deck saw her at once, when she was, as it might be, alongside; and yet no one had seen her approaching. But strange as that was, comrades, it was not so strange as the cut of the boat, and, for that matter, the cut of the man in her. The stem and stern of the craft were very high, and ended in curled bits of carved wood. Her gunwale, too, was all carved and sculptured, in such a way as you may have seen the pulpits and choirs of cathedrals and abbeys, and such buildings in England and France, and the Low Countries, being very artificial work done with gravers and chisels.

‘Ned Purvis remembered afterwards, when he saw a great Spanish painting of Christopher Columbus, landing on his second voyage upon the island of Hispaniola, that the admiral sailed in a barge, carved and ornamented after the fashion of that of which I am now telling you. And the man, mates, looked as old as his boat. He had on a high, conical hat, with a feather in it, and he wore a grave coloured doublet, of an old fashion, with slashes in the arms, and brocaded flowers embroidered thereon. Round his neck was a stiff ruff. He had red stockings, and great bunches of ribbon in his shoes. The face of this strange person was severe and grave. He had no moustachoes, but a thin peaked beard which fell over his frill. Every now and then he smiled with a strange, wild expression, which was that of a bitter sneer; and his eyes shot a sparkling light, which was stony and cold, and from which men turned their heads, as if by instinct. Well, then, the captain, when he saw this queer cruizer, seemed fascinated, and gazed upon him, as you may have seen small birds on the boughs gaze at snakes, whose eyes glitter out of the grass beneath, and presently the man in the boat waved his arm, as a signal to those on board to take him in. Well, no one stirred but Ned Purvis, and before the old captain could prevent him, Ned flung a rope to the stranger, who straightway caught hold of it and mounted on deck.

‘“Where is your captain?” says he, in a hollow harsh voice.

‘The old man comes forward, as pale as a corpse, and, quoth he—

‘“In the name of God, what want ye on board my ship?”

‘Now, at the name of God, Ned Purvis thought that the strange man started and shook: but he replied not, only taking the old captain by the hand, pointed to his boat, which was towing astern.

‘“Men,” said the old mariner, faintly, “he will not be denied; get his boat aboard.”

‘But the crew slunk together in a body, and murmured to each other, but put not a hand to rope or tackle. Then Ned Purvis stood forward.

‘“Who are you?” said he, “and why should we take you or your boat aboard?”

‘“You yourself asked me,” quoth the strange man; “you flung the rope; but for that I should have floated past you. I never come, but where some one welcomes me.”

‘Now, at this, Ned Purvis confessed that he felt like a great sinner, and all the men turned round and looked first at him and then at the stranger. But Ned plucked up courage, and determined to give them all bold words. So he walked up to the stranger, and said—

‘“Well, I did heave you a rope; no true-hearted mariner would see a man adrift upon the ocean, and not offer him rescue. I care little what you be. If you are our fellow-creature, we have done but our duty in saving you; if you be not, why, we are honest men here, having no crime upon our consciences, and we defy the devil and all his works. Come, shipmates, lend a hand, and heave the old gentleman’s barge aboard. It’s the captain’s orders, and orders must be obeyed.”

‘And so, after a little grumbling and murmuring, the boat was hove aboard and placed between the masts. There was neither food nor water in her, and her bottom was as foul with barnacles and sea-weed as if she had drifted ten times round the world. Meantime, the stranger and the captain went below, and the men stood in a group round the cabin, but they could hear nought of what took place there, and presently they retired to their usual posts. Well, Ned Purvis was in the first watch, and when it got dark he was standing leaning against the main-chains, wondering at the strange event of the day, when the captain touched him on the shoulder.

‘“Nevvy!” says the old man, “know you whom you have brought aboard into this ship?”

‘“Why, uncle,” answered Ned, somewhat taken aback at this address, “ought we not to take aboard any man we find starving in a boat upon the ocean, more than a week’s sail from land?”

‘“Ay, Nevvy,” quoth the old captain, “any man, but not any phantom; it is more than a hundred years since the passenger you brought on board this unhappy ship was a man!”

‘“Do you know him, then, uncle?” says Ned; “have you ever seen him before?”

‘“Ay, boy,” replied the old mariner; “once, when I was a youth, he boarded a ship in which I sailed, as he did ours to-day.”

‘“And what did he?” asked the young sailor, his heart fluttering within him.

‘“Raised storms,” said the elder Purvis, solemnly; “raised a tempest such as I never saw before, and had hoped, until now, never to see again.”

‘“Then, in the name of God,” says Ned, clenching his fists, “as I brought him on board, I’ll pitch him overboard, and I’ll begin with his boat first.” And so saying, he began to make fast a tackle to the curled prow.

‘“Hold, hold!” said Captain Purvis; “he must go by his own free will, or he will not go at all.”

‘“But who—who, in the devil’s name, is he, uncle?” shouted Ned.

‘“He is a restless phantom—a wandering, unquiet spirit,” says the old seaman, with his voice trembling, and his grey hair all dank with the cold sweat. “He was a cruel captain of Spain, who, holding a high command in Hispaniola, wrought great cruelties to the natives, and even to his fellow-countrymen, amassing thus a great treasure, which he buried in one of the small keys or desert islands of the Western Indies, to wait an opportunity of conveying it to Spain: at length this seemed to have arrived, and in a stout vessel he set sail for the treasure island; but on the voyage a terrible fever fixed upon him, and having partially recovered, he found his memory so gone that he could not recal to his mind any signs by which he knew either the island, or the part of it where the treasure lay. Notwithstanding, however, he would continue to cruize for weeks and weeks among the cluster called the Virgin Isles, to the east of Porto Rico,—never sleeping, so they said who sailed with him, but always standing on the highest yard, gazing wistfully for his treasure he had buried. At length his crew lost patience, and insisted upon returning to Hispaniola; at this he fell into furious fits of rage, but at last, they being obstinate, he swore a solemn oath that, dead or alive, he would sail the sea until his treasure was either found and spent, or placed for ever beyond the reach of men. And then, ordering them to put out a boat, stepped on board, and they left him floating, an hundred years ago, just as we found him this afternoon.”

‘“But he has been seen since,” quoth Ned, after a pause, for he did not know what to think of this story.

‘“Twice that I know of,” said his uncle, “and once, I tell you, I saw him, and he came on board and brought tempest with him; they called him ‘Foul-Weather Don’ and learned men say he must keep his oath, in the spirit, if not in the body, and that he will have no rest till the terms of it be fulfilled.”

‘“So he brought bad weather, did he?” said Ned, musing.

‘“For the three weeks he was on board,” says the old man, “the blast never lulled, and the sea ran higher than the mainyard.”

‘“And what did he do all that time?” cries Ned, again.

‘“He sat in the great cabin,” replied the uncle, “with his back against the rudder-case, and never spoke word nor broke bread.”

‘“How did he leave you?” was Ned’s next question.

‘“He rose one evening, just in the twilight, and ordered the captain to put his boat into the water, though none of us thought a boat would live in such a sea, and none built by man’s hand could. But that one”—and the old sailor pointed to the sea-worn craft, with her bottom one bed of weed and barnacles—“but that one floated like a duck upon the great breaking seas; and presently, with grave courtesy and farewell gesture, Foul-Weather Don stepped to the gangway, and from thence on board his skiff. We saw him once or twice rising on the tops of the great seas, and standing up in the boat with his hands clasped, as one praying; then boat and all disappeared, and we saw him no more. The next hour the gale broke, the sea went down, and we were again enabled to lay our proper course.”

‘“And what is Foul-Weather Don doing in the cabin just now?” says Ned.

‘“Sitting with his back against the rudder-case,” answered Captain Purvis; “and see—look there!” the old man added, and he pointed to the east, “look at that bank of clouds rising from the ocean—there’s the gale coming. Before midnight Foul-Weather Don will have all his winds blowing about him.”

‘With this, mates, Ned Purvis walked away forward, and pondered long and deeply. The rest of the crew were whispering in groups upon the forecastle, and the poor old captain was standing wringing his hands beside the magic boat. So presently Ned spoke to two or three of the men, and they shook hands with him and promised to stand by him. Then he went down to his berth and took out a great pistol, and carefully examined the lock and cleaned it; afterwards he opened his chest, and produced from it a bright Spanish dollar; this he hammered into a round ball, and with it, instead of a leaden bullet, he loaded the pistol. So presently, armed in this fashion, he came on deck, the men following him by ones and twos, and marched right to the door of the great cabin. His uncle met him at the door. “What do you want here?” quoth the old man; “take my advice, and let him alone.”

‘“No,” says Ned, “I brought him here, and I’ll make you rid of him;” and so saying, he put the old man aside, and entered the cabin. It was almost dark, but the light from the binnacle came down through the sky-light, and showed the strange passenger sitting there, as the captain had described, with his back to the rudder-case.

‘Ned Purvis marched heavily in, and the phantom, or whatever it was, looked up at him, and so they remained for more than a minute staring into each other’s eyes. The men were watching them over each other’s shoulders at the door.

‘“Foul-Weather Don,” says Ned at last, as bold as steel, “you’re more free than welcome.”

The spectre took no notice.

‘“I hove the rope to you,” says Ned, “and I thought I was doing an act of duty by my fellow-creature. But now, I hear, that there’s no living blood in your veins, and that you roam the ocean, bringing bad weather on the mariners you fall in with. That may be true, or it may not. If not, say so, and say who you are. If you be a shipwrecked man, you are welcome here; but if not, men have told me that a silver bullet can wound even a ghost, and if you do not speak in time, by God, there is a rare chance now of testing the truth of the saying. Answer!”

‘And Ned cocked the great pistol and levelled at the strange passenger. The figure never moved a muscle of its wan stern face.

‘“Take the dollar and my blessing with it, then,” shouted Ned, and he drew the trigger.

‘The pistol exploded, and for a moment the cabin was so full of smoke, that they could not see what execution had been done. When the vapour cleared a little off, Foul-Weather Don was standing up, his stony eyes giving out their cold sparkle, more horribly than ever.

‘“You gave me your benison,” he screeched out, “I give you my malison; and the executors and the tokens of it will follow you night and day, until either my fate or yours be accomplished. If you do not believe me, go on deck, look over either quarter, and see if I do not speak sooth.”

‘These, mates, were the very words of Foul-Weather Don; for I have got all the conversations which relate to the matter by heart, as they were told to me. And so Ned and the rest of them being terribly startled, tumbled up on deck, one tripping up the other in their hurry; and the first thing they did was to stare into the sea, where the phantom had told them to look, when sure enough they saw the fins of two great blue sharks, awful monsters in size, keeping way steadily with the ship; and just as Ned came on deck, they gave a sort of frisky plunge in the water, as much as to say, “There you are—very good; and here we are.”

‘To make a long story short, mates, before midnight, such a gale was blowing from the eastward, that there was nothing for it but to put the ship before the wind; and not only that day, but that week, and for three weeks after that, did the hurricane, for it was little else, continue, blowing the ship entirely out of her course, until at length, the captain and crew knew that they had sailed from near the coast of Africa to the coast of America, and that if the wind did not soon take off, they would be run plump ashore, either on the continent or one of the islands. Meanwhile Foul-Weather Don, as before, never rose from the cabin, nor broke bread nor spoke word. Indeed, if he were talkative, he had no one but himself to hold converse with; for captain, quartermaster, mates, and all, lived forward, and gave up the cabin to the phantom passenger. But Foul-Weather Don was not the only thing which stuck to the ship. The sharks kept way with her as steadily in the thundering gale as in the light breeze. The crew could see them occasionally, ploughing along in the troughs of the sea, one on each quarter, and keeping their places as exactly as if they were towing after the ship. Well, all hands got low and mopish. The old captain was fairly unmanned; and even Ned Purvis, dare-devil as he was, began to quail. At last, they knew by their reckoning, and by the look of the sky towards sundown, that they were approaching the land, and that one way or the other their fate would soon be settled. So one evening, the men were gathered in groups, watching the signs of the sky, and pointing out to each other right ahead the warm coloured clouds which sailors know hang over the land. The weather looked as wild as ever; the scud above flew even faster than the waves below; and you should have seen the battered look of the craft as she went staggering along, under a rag of canvas, which was becalmed every moment in the troughs of the sea. Indeed the ship looked almost a wreck. Her bulwarks had been washed away long ago, the hatchways were all battened down. Out of three boats she had carried, only one was left, being strongly lashed to the deck, while the sea-battered skiff of Foul-Weather Don, although there was not so much as a rope yarn to make it fast, had never budged for all the great seas, which had been for weeks rolling over and over the decks, so that the men were obliged to lash themselves to ringbolts, and to the masts, and never could light a fire, or wear a stitch of dry clothing.

‘Well, as I was saying, the poor fellows were holding on as well as they could, and wondering where the ship and they themselves would be to-morrow by that time, when the two seamen, who were taking their turn at the helm ropes, gave a loud shout, and the rest turning about, saw Foul-Weather Don standing upon the deck.

‘“He’s going—he’s going,” whispered old Captain Purvis. “The Lord hath preserved us in his great goodness.”

‘Well, Foul-Weather Don looked eagerly about as if he expected to find his treasure island, and then he mounted the rigging—all the crew holding their breath and watching him—and gazed from the maintop long and sadly. At length, he made a sort of motion of despair, and came down to the deck, where he stood wringing his hands. All at once he turned to Captain Purvis, and motioned for his boat to be hoisted into the sea. In a minute, mates, the tackles were manned, and they let the skiff go smash into the water, with a surge that would have burst another boat into staves. But only the devil, mates, could swamp a craft like that; she floated alongside as light as a well-corked bottle.

‘“Haul your wind, when the elements will allow you,” says the Don, quite solemnly.

‘“Thank you for nothing,” quoth Ned Purvis. “I should think we would, when you have brought us across the ocean against our will.”

‘But the spectre replied not a word, and seemed to glide rather than to clamber over the ship’s side into the boat. When he was fairly aboard, Ned Purvis bellowed out, “Take your sharks with you, Foul-Weather Don, they are fitter companions for you than for Christians.”

‘But there was no reply, and in a minute the phantom and his boat glanced away from the ship’s side, and the last the crew saw of her was a black speck with a figure in it, in the very crest of a breaking wave. Just as this happened, and they were beginning to breathe freely, one of the men shouted “Land!” and sure enough the next time they rose upon a sea, they saw right in the glare of the setting sun the dusky coast line of an island. In an hour after, the gale broke, lulling fast, so that before midnight they had courses and stay-sails on the ship, she lying-to with her head to the eastward. You know, mates, that in hot countries it is up wind, up sea, down wind, down sea, so that by sunrise the next day there was nothing but a great smooth swell to show that a gale had just swept across the wide Atlantic. The first thing Ned Purvis did when he came on deck to take the morning watch, was to look over the quarter, and he confessed afterwards that his heart felt sick when he saw the two blue sharks still alongside swimming close to the surface. The other seamen saw the creatures too, and they looked at Ned, and whispered among themselves.

‘Well, you may be sure that, after such a run as the ship had had across the Atlantic, she wanted refitting, and the crew wanted vegetable food, and rest; so that when the usual trade wind came to blow, and they found from one or two fishing canoes that they were amongst the most northern of the Windward islands, they cruised about, looking for a convenient beach to land at, and to refresh themselves. All this time, mates, the sharks kept their places as steadily as the very masts. Ned fished for them in vain. He even baited the hook with the choicest pieces of pork and beef aboard, but they would not as much as push the morsel with their snouts. “No, no,” said the men, when they saw this; “the creatures have their orders, and they obey them.” Then Ned tried the harpoon, but though he had often speared porpoises and dolphins, he could not make a hit at the sharks; either the ship lifted or lurched, or the ravenous animals glided aside, or the water made the spear glance; but, however it was, Ned confessed that he could not even scratch their dingy backs.

‘Upon this, there was little but black looks and murmuring words in the ship. Poor old Captain Purvis was at his wit’s end, and the crew, although they used to love poor Ned, now began to look at him as though he were a Jonas, and Ned knew it.

‘“The curse,” said the men, “is following us in a visible shape. There can be no good luck for ship, or crew, or cargo, with such a couple of attendants swimming astern.”

‘Well, Ned tried hard to laugh it off, but he could not succeed, and his arguments were of as little avail. “Why,” he would say, “they can’t jump aboard, messmates; the ocean is theirs as well as ours, and if a cat may look at a king, I don’t see why a shark may not look at a ship.”

‘But though he spoke in this tone, I can tell you that Ned was but ill at ease himself. Well, this lasted three days, and all that time they were cruising about among the islands, looking for a place which would be snug to anchor in, and out of the way of Spanish ships. On the third day, when the ship was about a league from a small sandy isle or key, the men noticed that the sharks came closer to her than ever, as if they were getting more and more watchful of their prey. This made the pot boil over, and the boatswain and three-fourths of the crew went to the captain in a body, and said that Ned must leave the ship that hour, for that he was a doomed man, and that a doomed man made a doomed ship. There was land close to, they said. Mr. Purvis would get plenty of water and provisions, and he might soon get his passage off in another ship, but whether he did or not, he must go ashore now. Old Purvis tried to argue the thing, but the men would not hear his words, and in the middle of the hubbub, Ned comes forward, frankly, and says—

‘“Messmates, I have brought misfortune on the ship, and spoiled the voyage; I am willing to land.”

‘On hearing this, Captain Purvis wished to follow his nephew, but they would not let him because he was the only good navigator they would have, after Ned went away, in the ship. So, presently, the remaining boat was launched, and beef, and biscuit, and water, sufficient for two months at least, were put in her, with a musket, and ammunition, and a shovel, that Ned might have the means of digging for water. When the boat shoved off, the sharks followed, on which Ned, pointing to them, shouted to his uncle to be of good cheer, for they would meet again, and that the ship was now free of bad omens. The boat landed in a little cove, and Ned stepped on shore with his gun in his hand. The men placed his provisions and the shovel upon the beach, and shook hands with him; and as they rowed back to the ship, they gave him a cheer for his stout heart. Well, when they were gone, Ned began to look around him, and truly he was alone in a desolate place. Most of the island appeared to be sand, upon which, in some places, there were great banks of Bahama grass growing, and about a rood from him there was a little hill, with bushes in it, and one very old tree at the top. What rejoiced Ned, however, was to see plenty of turtles sleeping on the sand, and numerous birds. Well, he lived here nigh a fortnight, sleeping under a rock in a sort of cave, which was cool and pleasant, and looking out in vain for a ship. All this time the sharks kept cruising along the shore, and Ned used to amuse himself by flinging great stones on them from the top of rocks rising out of the sea. One day, however, having climbed the little hill, and sat down under the tree, he observed a curious thing. The tree, which must have been dead near a century, and which was all covered with moss, had several withered branches, to which cross pieces of wood had been rudely fastened, but in such a way that, unless you looked very closely, you would have thought that such was the natural growth of the tree. But at two hours, or thereby, after noon every day, these branches cast shadows as of six crosses, all in a circle on the sand. It was after Ned observed this that he climbed the tree, and found that the crosses were artificial. Then all at once it struck him that they were meant for marks, and then he thought that something might be buried there. Well, mates, off he goes for his shovel, and sets to work at once. It was hot work digging in that climate, but he very soon scraped the lid of a great chest made of ironwood, and bound with hasps and clasps of metal.

‘“By all the stars,” quoth Ned, “who knows but this is Foul-Weather Don’s treasure-chest.”

‘Mates, I believe it was. Ned soon wrenched the lid off, and there he saw great ingots and rough lumps of gold, and precious stones, just as they were dug up from the mines in Cuba and Hispaniola by the Indians for the Spaniards. There they had lain for a hundred years, and no man the wiser or the better.

‘“Aha,” says Ned, “I would fain have you in England, but what am I to do with you here?”

‘However, he made shift to carry the wealth, lump by lump, down to his cave near the sea; then he brought the box, and stowed the gold as before, covering all over with loose sand. The very next morning, mates, Ned, on awaking, saw a small bark—he did not know what she was—becalmed, not a mile from the shore, waiting for the sea-breeze. So he mounted a rock, fired his gun, waved a handkerchief, and shouted. Presently, a boat pulled off from the bark, and Ned went down to the cove to meet her. There were a couple of men in the boat, of what nation I know not, but the vessel to which they belonged was a turtler, from one of the large windward islands—Martinico, I believe. So Ned told them that he had been marooned for striking the quartermaster of the ship in which he sailed, and asked them if they would give him a passage to any port where he could ship for England. So the turtlers consulted together, and asked him if he had wherewithal to pay his passage. Upon which Ned, who cared nothing at all for money, took them into his cave, and showed them the treasure-chest. At the sight of it the turtlers stared, as well they might, and most readily agreed to take off Ned and his gold at once. The three set to work, and presently the boat was loaded almost to the water’s edge with riches. The turtlers went about like men in a dream, and they were only roused from a sort of stupid bewilderment when they had rowed the boat out of the cove and found her so heavy that they feared she should be swamped by the heave of the sea.

‘“Lord!” says one of them, “see there; if the boat were to fill and go down. Did you ever see more fearful monsters?”

‘And sure enough there were Ned’s old friends swimming on each side of the boat, as though they were appointed the guardians of the treasure. However, no accident happened, and as they neared the turtling ship, the sailors cried out that they were coming on board with treasure enough to buy a kingdom.

‘You may think for yourselves, mates, how the entire crew of the bark, which carried about half-a-dozen men, received their freight. Ned told the simple truth as to how he had got it, and the turtler, immediately that the sea-breeze came, stood away for Martinico, the two sharks following as usual. Gold, mates, is a thing that makes demons out of men. The big chest stood upon the deck, and the crew hung round it, and would hardly work the ship. Presently they began to handle and weigh the lumps, and dispute about their value. Ned saw that a storm was brewing, and fearing that he would be stabbed or flung overboard to the sharks astern, so as to be no bar to a distribution of the wealth, stood forward and said that they were as much entitled to the gold as he, for if he had found it, they had given him the means of turning it to use. Well, at this speech they professed great satisfaction, and swore that Ned was an honest man and a good comrade, and that as he said, so it would be done. But it was clear that they all distrusted each other. Ned saw them whispering and caballing, and once or twice he observed a man concealing a knife in his garment, so that the haft came handy to his grasp. All this time the sharks were following steadily in the wake, and Ned did not like the look of the weather, for great black clouds were gathering in the sky. Still the men were looking sourer and sourer at each other, and gradually drawing off into two parties, one on each side of the chest, the twain watching each other warily. Ned tried to remonstrate with them, and told them that they ought to take in sail, for the weather looked threatening. But they ordered him to mind his own business, and said, they had not taken him on board to be captain over them. So Ned sat on the weather-bulwark, looking very uneasily to windward. Mates, you have all seen a squall in these seas, and you know how it comes. The weather getting very thick, the men forming each group began to whisper, and then, all at once, as if they had made up their minds, they gave a loud shout, and made a rush at the box; as they did so, they drew knives and snicker-snees, and cut and chopped at each other, struggling and cursing over the chest. Ned saw the blood splash down on the gold, and he rushed forward to separate them, crying out, “Madmen that you are—look out for the squall first and fight afterwards.”

‘But it was too late, mates. The sky got black, and with a loud roar the squall came, tearing up the sea before it, and in the very centre of the flying foam Ned swore he saw Foul-Weather Don, with his arms stretched forth, as if in triumph. In an instant the blast struck the sails, heaving the turtler bodily on her broadside, and as she lurched over, the heavy box of gold fetched away with a mighty surge, and went crashing through and through the frail bulwark, and then with a great plunge down to the bottom of the ocean, there to lie, mates, even until the day when the sea shall give up its dead! All this passed in a moment, and the next instant the ship, as though relieved by having cast forth the guilty gold, righted with a heavy roll, which sent the seamen sprawling across the deck, with their knives in their hands, and bloody gashes in their faces and limbs. The squall was over, and the sun burst out; Ned rushed to the lee-beam, and saw, just where the gold had fallen into the sea, the bottom of a boat all covered with barnacles and sea-weed, which he knew well. She seemed now saturated and rotten with water, for the charm was off her, mates; and while Ned gazed at her, she went gradually down into the great depths of the sea, and the sharks sunk out of sight with her. As they disappeared, Ned felt a heavy load leave his heart, and he thought that he had got cheaply rid of it, even at the expense of the gold. The curse was taken off him, and he rather surprised the turtlers, who were standing looking very like fools, by cutting a set of capers on the deck. The first thing they did was to try for soundings, but the line ran out every fathom, and the lead touched no bottom. So they lengthened the cord with every piece of loose rope in the ship, but the sea appeared unfathomable. The gold was sunk in a gulf from which no power of man could raise it; and so at length, mutually cursing and blaming each other, they wore the ship round, and stood back to pursue their turtling cruise. From that time to this, mates, no mariner has ever seen Foul-Weather Don. Ned Purvis got safely back to England, and, as I informed you already, he told this tale, aboard the Bristol ship, to him who made it known to me. Regarding its truth, I leave every man to judge for himself.’

CHAPTER IX.
THE AUTHOR, WITH SUNDRY OF HIS COMRADES, SET OUT FOR THE
CREEK WHERE HE LEFT HIS BARK, AND THERE BRAVELY
CAPTURE A SPANISH SCHOONER.

Nearly a month passed away since the evening on which I listened to the story of Foul-Weather Don, and no ship had yet passed within a dozen miles of the mouth of the bay. So all hands began to grow very impatient, and divers schemes were proposed, such as shifting our quarters to some other point of the coast, where we might have better luck. It was then that I, for the first time, called to mind the boat which I had left in the creek, where I first landed on the island. Now, as I had heard many stories of buccaneers putting to sea in boats or canoes, and boarding and capturing Spanish vessels, it occurred to me, that if we could get possession of the Frenchman’s skiff, we could divide our party between it and the canoe, leaving ample room for the stowage of provisions and water for a cruise. This scheme I imparted to Stout Jem, by whom it was received with approbation. We were nine in number, well armed, and therefore of quite sufficient force to capture any Spaniard, not a man of war, which we were likely to fall in with. It was therefore resolved that Le Picard, one of our Frenchmen, Blue Peter, and Nicky, should start, under my guidance, for the cove to the westward, and if we found the boat, should navigate her round the coast to the bay, where the rest of the party would be prepared with provisions and water, ready to stow on board, so that, in company with the canoe, we could put to sea at once. No time was lost in putting the scheme into execution. Meinheer, who knew something of sail-making, cut out a small square sail or lug, which we were to carry with us, and which would suit the boat, it being easy for us to cut and fashion a mast and yard after we had found her. We also carried a good-sized keg for water, and a small quantity of beef and cassava bread, trusting chiefly, however, to our guns for our subsistence.

We set out by moonlight, intending to sleep during the heat of the day; and after an hour’s trudge through the wet grass and bushes, which were quite drenched with the copious dews, passed the spot where lay the Buccaneers who had been hanged by the Spaniards. Truly our poor comrades slept in a tranquil resting-place—a spot of greenest grass, with feathery palms overhead, bending and rustling in the night wind. We stopped to rest, when the sun rose, until the sea-breeze should set in, watching its coming from beneath a thick mango-tree, whence we could look down upon the blue sea beneath. After the land-breeze flickered and failed, there was a pause, during which the sun shone with blistering power. Then, far off, on the glassy surface of the sea, came the dark belt of roughened water, streaked with white, which proclaims the daily return of the brisk north-westerly trade, and in half an hour more, it was whistling through the bushes in half a gale of wind. We dined this day by the little runnel where I had killed the duck, and then travelled until sunset, when we encamped in our blankets, well worn out by our long day’s march. The journey to the cove was fatiguing, but performed without any particular adventure. We sometimes saw wild cattle, and heard the cry of wild dogs, and I observed, when we got glimpses of the sea, numerous great brown pelicans, flapping heavily over the water, somewhat like the cranes on our own coasts, and often diving down with a splash into the sea after the fish, which they mark from a great height. In the afternoon of the second day, I reckoned that we could not be far from the cove, but the exact spot was difficult to hit, as the general appearance of the coast hereabouts was very similar, and the tangled growth of underwood prevented us from always keeping so close to the edge of the sea-cliff as we otherwise should have done. We had trudged along all the afternoon, keeping a sharp look-out, and sometimes forcing our way with our great knives through the creepers and brushwood, so as to be able to gaze down the iron-bound sea wall to where the great driving swells were rising and sinking upon the rock, and foaming furiously over every projecting peak and pinnacle of stone; when, having stopped to hold a consultation—for I was now becoming very fearful that we had overshot our mark—we all suddenly heard the report of a musket or fowling-piece, fired not far off. This terribly disconcerted us, for we knew that the cove could not be distant, and we feared that the secret of its existence was not known to me alone. However, we withdrew into the thicket, where we could not well be discovered, and lay close. In the course of the next hour, we heard three shots fired from different points around us, and discoursed eagerly as to whether they were probably Buccaneers, or Spaniards who were hunting in the neighbourhood. At all events, we now despaired of recovering the boat, inasmuch as the great chance was that the hunters had landed in my cove, as I called it, and would, of course, appropriate the skiff, if she still lay there, to their own purposes.

While we were talking lowly among ourselves, Blue Peter, the Mosquito-man, suddenly started up on his knees, and told us to listen. We did so, very intently, and presently heard a rustling and a snapping of dry twigs in the wood, but although we looked with all our eyes, we could see nothing.

‘Tush!’ says Nicky; ‘you are a fool, Peter! and take a wild pig for a Spaniard.’

But the Indian seized his piece, cocked it, and suddenly levelling it, fired, before we could prevent him.

‘Hush!’ quoth he, very earnestly—‘hush! and we will be safe.’

‘Safe!’ said Nicky. ‘Why, if they are Spaniards, they will be down upon us in a twinkling.’

‘No,’ replied the Mosquito-man—‘no, no! They shooting all round: think my gun one of their camarados—eh?’

‘The man is right,’ said Le Picard. ‘But what, in the name of the diable, have you fired at?’

‘Me show you!’ said Blue Peter; and he crawled into the underwood so circumspectly, that one scarcely heard a rustle, and presently, returning, flung the body of a huge dog among us.

‘A Spanish blood-hound!’ exclaimed Nicky; and we all recognized the fawn colour, with grim, black muzzle, and the great muscular limbs of the animal. But to put all question aside, the creature wore a leather collar, with a brass plate, on which was inscribed the name, ‘Manuel G. Alcansas,’ so it was quite clear, that we were surrounded by a hunting party of the enemy, and that, had it not been for the keen eye of the Indian, who observed the blood-hound, and shot it almost when it was in the act of giving tongue, we should probably have been massacred. We were all tolerably startled, and, after a hurried consultation, agreed that we might as well lie close where we were, as attempt to shift to less dangerous quarters, as by moving we might unwittingly run into the very jaws of death. At last we decided to climb up certain trees, the branches whereof interlaced, Blue Peter having first cut the throat of the dog, and scattered the blood copiously around, so that it would embarrass and destroy the scent of any other hound which might pass that way. He then flung the body up into the branches of a tree. Not long after we heard a voice hallooing loudly, as we supposed for the slain dog, and some other shots were fired at a distance. However, the sun sank and the stars shone down through the leaves, and we still remained unmolested. Making ourselves as comfortable as our position would permit, we munched our supper, of which, however, we could eat but little, for we suffered much from thirst. Fortunately, there was water enough in the keg to afford us a few mouthfuls a piece, but we were afraid to straggle abroad in search of more. With the grey dawn we were afoot, cautiously exploring the locality, and I had much ado to restrain a sudden burst of exclamation when I recognised the little hill, to the top of which I had climbed to look around, after scrambling up the precipitous banks of the cove. I now knew whereabouts we were, almost to a yard, and carefully guiding the rest, and taking great heed to make no noise, we made our way to the top of the very scaur or ravine, up which I had crept from the water. It was not easy, however, to make out whether the cove was empty, for the morning was yet dim and grey, and the trees grew thick below. We proceeded, however, moving in single file along the edge of the rock, which, as the reader remembers, was thickly covered with wood, such as bushes and parasitical plants, with great trees growing out of the rifts and cracks in the cliff, and bending over the water so that the branches of those on both sides interlacing, quite canopied the still deep sea beneath. As we clambered on by the edge of the precipice, a sound suddenly struck my ear with which I was too well acquainted to be easily deceived—it was the flap of canvas. Nicky heard it as well as myself, and we all paused. The land wind was just beginning to die out, and only came in heavy dank puffs down from the hills. We waited for the next gust; it shook the dew from the branches in a great sparkling shower, and gave a great rustle, as it were, down the ravine, in the middle of which, we again heard the flap of canvas, and a rattle as of reef points against a sail. Being guided by the sound, we proceeded a few paces onwards, and then coming to a comparatively clear bit of ground, we crawled upon our bellies to the edge of the cliff, and through the trees and boughs saw a small vessel with two masts, of the class called schooners, beneath. She was moored in the very centre of the cove, very snugly, being made fast by four hawsers, two a-head and two astern, to the trunks of trees growing near the water on either bank. She had two boats in the water, floating by her main chains, and one of them I immediately recognised to be the object of our journey. Here, then, was the vessel to whom the hunters, whose guns we had heard, evidently belonged: and, indeed, without other evidence, Nicky and Le Picard knew enough about the fashion of those seas to be sure that the schooner was Spanish built, she being, possibly, a fishing vessel from Cuba, although what she did on the coast here, we could not well imagine. The question now, however, was how we were to act? Thinking themselves, no doubt, in security, there was not a single man awake upon deck; but several stout fellows were lying asleep under canvas and tarpaulins upon the forecastle. Presently, after we had gazed our fill upon the schooner, Nicky asked our opinion as to whether it would be possible to clamber down to the water’s edge, and make off with both boats before the crew awoke. But Le Picard thought the risk too great. Besides, he argued, when they miss the boats, they can chase us out to sea in the schooner, where we would infallibly be taken. While they were talking, I was turning over another plan in my own mind.

‘Instead of taking the boats,’ quoth I, ‘why should we not take the ship?’

At this they all started, and reminded me that we were but four men, whereas the Spaniards might well be a dozen; and they had dogs, too, fierce bloodhounds, of which Le Picard, in particular, professed a great horror.

‘Look you,’ quoth I, ‘this is my plan. Yesterday the Spaniards were hunting ashore, and to-day it is very like that they will renew their pastime, leaving, perhaps, only one man, or perhaps not even that to take charge of the schooner; for you see that she is moored very safely, and with her bows pointing down the creek so as to be ready for a start. Now, look at her rigging; see, her jib can be hoisted in a moment, and her fore and mainsails can be set merely by letting go the brails, and running aft the sheets; for you observe that the gaffs are already hoisted, therefore the schooner is ready for sea. Now I know, in a general manner, the direction of the cove below. It runs for a little way parallel to the coast, and then turns to the right, and so opens up into the sea. What is there to prevent us boarding the schooner when she is left almost, if not quite, undefended, and so carrying her away?’

They all applauded this design, and the more we talked of it the better it seemed to be. The schooner was a trim-looking vessel, such as the Spaniards can build very well, and we judged from her shape that she was exceeding fast as well as easy to manage. Besides, the greater length of the cove running westward, what puffs of sea-breeze traversed it would be in our favour, and although there would necessarily be some risk when we had passed the elbow, and came to get the ship out in face of the swell, yet we determined at all events to make the experiment. Nothing venture nothing have, so we shook hands gaily, and thanked our stars for such a slice of good luck.

As in many other adventures, the first and most difficult duty which we had to perform was to wait, so we ensconced ourselves in thick bushes, where we could see without being easily discerned, and watched the Spaniards as keenly as hawks do larks. The sun was above the horizon about half-an-hour, when a man issued from the cabin, and tapped the deck loudly with a handspike. At this summons the sluggards on the forecastle began to stir themselves, and to crawl forth, one by one, yawning from under the sails, and presently three or four bloodhounds, who seemed to have been sleeping among them, came whining and stretching themselves from their warm nests. The man who had wakened the rest, then went round the schooner, and appeared to examine the state of the moorings. The aspect of things seemed to satisfy him, for he went below, and presently the crew had their breakfast, which they ate on deck—a couple of bowls of cocoa, or some such beverage, being carried aft to the cabin. Soon after this, we observed, with great delight, a number of muskets and pistols brought on deck, at the sight of which, the grim bloodhounds yelped and bayed. The captain, as we called him then, appeared again; and after a long discourse, carried on with a great deal of gesticulation, the whole crew gathering round and handling the arms, the bloodhounds were fed, and the skiff—my skiff—hauled alongside, no doubt to convey the hunters on shore. The captain then seemed to be giving orders to one of the crew, a stout fellow, who wore a great striped woollen cap and had a long unsheathed knife in his girdle, and then the whole party, excepting the fellow with the knife and cap, tumbled into the boat, the bloodhounds leaping in along with them, and rowed towards the extreme head of the creek. The Spaniards numbered about a dozen, without including a boy whom they had with them, and of course weighed down the skiff until her gunwale was almost at the water’s edge. We were for a little time in some perturbation, lest they should chance to come our way. We heard them shouting, and laughing, and crashing through the boughs, as they made their way up the steep banks of the creek, and then the boat came floating down again to the schooner, with the boy paddling her. Meantime, the man with the striped cap had disappeared in a little cook-house or caboose, from the funnel of which a smoke began to rise; and the boy, having made fast the boat, went aft to the cabin, and presently returned with the bowls, which we had seen carried thither, empty. Now, as we had seen but one man come out of this cabin, and as breakfast had been served there for two, we considered that there were three persons left in charge of the ship, but that one of these was probably sick or disabled. While we were making these observations, the reader may be sure that we also listened attentively, in order to find out in what direction the hunting party had proceeded; and presently, hearing shouts and the reports of guns very faintly, and gradually becoming more so, until they were no longer audible, we congratulated ourselves that the hunters were out of the way, and that so far, our task would be easy.

The next point was, how to get on board the schooner so suddenly and so quietly as to leave those in charge of her no opportunity of giving an alarm. First we thought of swimming, but Le Picard was not skilful at this exercise; and, besides, we saw the backs and snouts of several caymans, moving about in the water. Then Nicky proposed to swing ourselves aboard, by means of the warps, fixed to the trees; but on close examination, we found the banks so precipitous, that it would be very difficult to make our way to the ropes, without giving an alarm. We were thus in considerable perplexity, fearing our scheme would miscarry in the very outset, when I observed a means whereby we might, although at some risk, accomplish our end. I have said that the cove or creek was so narrow that the branches of the great trees, growing in the refts of the rock on either side, met and interlaced, and from these branches hung perpendicularly, like great ropes, many long tendrils or withes, very tough and strong. Now, as it chanced, one of these depending from a stout branch, swung close by the fore-top-mast head of the schooner, dangling indeed to the cross-trees. I pointed this out to my comrades, and they all agreed that it would be very possible to clamber out upon the bough, and slide down the withe into the rigging; but that the deck must be clear when we made the attempt, otherwise we could not fail of being discovered. It was fortunate, therefore, that the man with the striped cap continued in the cook-house, where we heard him clattering amongst pots and pans, and concluded that he was preparing a meal for the men ashore. But, as Nicky said, when one cooks a dinner, one never knows who may eat it. The boy remained about the deck for some time, but at length went into the cabin, and, staying there, we concluded to make the venture. Fastening our guns across our shoulders, we again shook hands, and vowed to stand by each other to the death. Then we crept cautiously along, until we came to the tree, from which sprang the great branch, which we looked to be the first stage of our journey to the schooner’s deck. This tree grew about a fathom beneath the edge of the rock, but it was easy to swing ourselves down to it, by the matted vegetation, which clung to the face of the stone. Then, one after another, we crawled out upon the bough, which shook a little, but bore us bravely. The schooner was now right below, and not a living thing stirring on her decks. I was the first man, and Nicky was at my heels. The Indian came next, and the Frenchman brought up the rear. All of us whites being sailors, the feat was not difficult; and as for the Mosquito man, he could climb like a cat. Having satisfied myself that the withe was well attached to the bough, I first twined my legs round the former, and then grasping it, slid easily down, until my feet touched the cross-trees of the Spanish schooner, and in a moment my comrades were clustering around me, no alarm being as yet excited. After pausing a moment, to get firm grips of the stays, I gave the word, and the whole four slid like lightning down the ropes, hand over hand, as sailors say, and came with a great bounce upon deck together. Le Picard instantly leaped to the cook-house, and the Spaniard coming out at the same moment, the Frenchman dealt him a blow with the butt-end of a heavy pistol, which flung him backwards, quite stunned upon the deck, while Nicky and I ran to the cabin, meeting at the threshold, the boy, and a comely woman, very dark, and with the blackest eyes I ever saw, who directly set up a great shriek of dismay.

But Nicky and I, pointing to the cabin and drawing forth pistols, made them understand that they must go below and be silent, as they valued their lives. The boy slunk back directly, and the woman turned to a livid paleness, and, swooning away, would have fallen down the ladder, but we supported her and laid her on the cabin floor; then, directly running on deck, we shut down the hatch. All this hardly occupied a moment; and, seeing Le Picard and Blue Peter cutting the warps forward, we drew our knives, and, working with good will, soon severed the tough piles of hemp, aft, and the schooner was unmoored. We waited a moment with great impatience, to see if she would drift, but, remaining stationary, we ran up the jib, and slackened the brails of the mainsail, so as, without actually setting the sail, to expose a good breadth of canvas, but it hung idly; the sea breeze had not yet set in, or if it had it did not reach us in the depths of the creek. We therefore flung a long line into the lightest of the two boats alongside, and Blue Peter and Nicky leaping into it, pulled with all their strength for the elbow at which the creek tended seawards, and made the line fast to a tree there, while Le Picard and I hauled upon the warp, and soon saw that the schooner was obeying the impulse thus given to her, and slowly moving through the water. In a twinkling, our comrades leaped on board again, and added their strength to ours, all of us working with clenched teeth and breathless eagerness. Just then, turning to look at the wounded Spaniard, who was sprawling upon the deck, I felt a breath of cool air on my face, the jib-sheet rattled, the light canvas swelled out, and in a moment the mainsail moved out of its sleepy folds, and the warp upon which we were hauling slackened. The schooner felt the puff, and I ran aft and took the helm, steering her in close by the starboard shore, which, when we turned seawards, would be the weather side of the cove. The mingled trees and rocks seemed to glide away from us. I looked over the side, and saw the bubbles rippling in the transparent water; and as I lifted my head again, I started with delight to feel the first heaving of the schooner, as she began to meet the lazy swell. The elbow, or turn of the creek, was not more than the length of the schooner ahead of us, and my three comrades all ran to the bows to watch the depth of water, and shouted that we might graze the rocks. Therefore I ported my helm, so as to send the vessel close in, and just as we slowly opened the corner I put the tiller hard down, and being fortunately a very handy craft for steering, she gradually swung round, and we all uttered a shout together as we saw, at the end of a short rocky passage, the open sea, streaked with the white bars of breaking waves. But we were not out yet: almost immediately on rounding the point of the creek a gust of the sea breeze struck us on the starboard bows, making the jib rattle and flap like thunder, and directly the head of the schooner fell off towards the rocks on the leeward side. The Frenchman exclaimed that we must take to the boats after all, but Nicky answered him, “Yes—but only to carry a warp to the rocks at the mouth of the creek!” No sooner said than done. Another line was flung into the skiff, and Nicky and the Indian went with three strokes to the weather extremity of the creek. Here the surf was beating violently, coming with great lashing surges round the corner of the cliff, and causing the water to rise and fall more than a fathom with every undulation of the sea. Here was a jagged pinnacle of rock beaten by the waves, which every now and then burst right above it; over this the Indian with great dexterity cast a loose hitch of the line, while we on board, running to the schooner’s bows, hauled upon it as before. It was lucky for us that the sea-breeze only blew up the ravine in uncertain puffs, and that the place was full of counter-currents, and eddies of air, which first filled our sails one way and then another, as we heaved and rolled upon the broken swells which dashed from side to side of the channel. We worked at the warp like desperate men, as, indeed, we were. Every now and then a sudden toss of the water would fling us back; but then the counter reflection of the seas from the opposite wall of rock would jerk us forward, and we soon found that we were gradually making our way towards the mouth of the cove, keeping so close to the weather side, that every now and then the masts, when flung over to starboard, rattled among the bushes overhead, and sent down showers of leaves, which would fly in uncertain whirls and dives amongst the rigging. At last, the decisive moment came. In a minute we would be hove upon the leeward entrance of the cove, or be out clear at sea. I ran again to take the helm. Le Picard and the Indian, running to the weather fore-chains, gave a last surge upon the line by way of a launch. The schooner’s head plunged into the trough of the sea, not a fathom from the rocks, and as she rose—her bows drew beyond the shelter of the cove—the full blast of the sea-breeze caught her jib—and her head swung gain to leeward.

‘Help her with the foresail, comrades!’ I shouted. They had anticipated me—the Indian letting go the brails, and then helping the whites to draw aft the sheet. The sail surged and flapped so as to shake the schooner to her very keel, and the great sheet-block jerked madly to and fro with bounds which would have dashed through a strong wall. But still, though they could not yet master the canvas, the schooner was not insensible to its lifting power, and I felt her, as she rose with her broadside to a great clear sea, gather way, and start as it were from under me. There was just a moment of terrible suspense. The masts bent to leeward until their trucks were within a couple of fathoms of the lee promontory. You could almost leap on the great rough masses of wet stone, which lay close abeam, and then in a moment the schooner rose to another sea, all three sails now bellying to the wind, and once more hove clear of the land, although I saw through the clear water a glimpse of reef under our counter, which the keel must have scraped, and although the head of the mainmast actually tore away the projecting branch of a great prickly bush which was waving and dancing in the wind.

We were drawing our first deep breath after our peril when I heard a great shout above me, and starting round, I saw between me and the sky the figure of a man standing with a gun upon the very verge of the precipice which formed the line of coast. He directly fired his piece, and set up a loud outcry to his comrades, three or four of whom directly joined him, and fired a volley at us which did no damage. So we jumped up on the taffrail rail, and waving our hats, gave them a loud cheer, and told them that if they wanted their schooner, they might swim after us, and then we would consider the matter. They made violent gestures, but the sea-breeze blowing so freshly, carried back their voices, and we knew not what they said. Carrying on as we best could with our ill-set sails, until we had made a good half mile offing, we luffed the schooner up into the wind, and with some trouble, got the canvas properly extended; then pulling the helm hard down, we got the jib-sheet to windward, and so lay to, dancing and surging merrily upon the sea.

And now we shook hands again, and embraced each other cordially. Here we stood on the deck of a fine schooner—our own by lawful capture from our enemies—and we thought of the surprise we would give our comrades in the bay. But the first thing to be settled was the fate of our prisoners, and we determined very unanimously that they must be put on board one of the boats, and left to find their way to the shore, Nicky only stipulating that if the lady should take a fancy to him, she should be allowed to remain on board. With some laughing at this proposition, we opened the cabin door, and called to our captives to come on deck, which they did, pale and trembling, for they seemed to expect no less than instant death. Nicky would be gallant to the lady, and to that end made her profound salutes, and spoke some gibberish, which he said was very good Spanish, for an expression of his admiration of her charms; but she never ceased crying out for ‘her husband—her husband,’ and begging, in the name of all the saints, to be put ashore. The boy, being more collected, managed to inform us—I, with my scanty knowledge of Spanish forming but a poor interpreter—that the schooner was called Nostra Senora del Carmine—that she had come to catch tortoise and to hunt wild cattle along the coast, it being the opinion of the citizens of Havannah, to which she belonged, that the late expedition had routed out all the privateersmen and hunters on the northern shore of Hispaniola. We then directed our attention to the man who had been acting as cook, and who, having partially recovered from his blow, was sitting up and looking very scared and foolish. However, his wits—if he had any—were still abroad, and we could not make him understand any of our questions; only when he was shown the boat with a couple of oars, and we pointed to the shore, and made as though we would push him over the side, he comprehended fast enough, and presently he and the boy got into the skiff belonging to the ship, and the lady, who had somewhat recovered her spirits, followed them, taking some clothing with her, and hiding her face as much as she could in a black veil. Although the sea was rough, they had a good boat and a favourable breeze, and we did not stand on our way until we saw them fairly into the shelter of the cove. Then we shifted the helm, let go the weather jib-sheet, and so began to plough our way to the eastward against wind and sea.

CHAPTER X.
THEY RETURN WITH THE PRIZE TO THE MARMOUSETTES, AND
NICKY HAMSTRING SHORTLY RELATES HIS HISTORY.

The wind blowing steady, the ship was easy to manage, so we speedily set to rummage our prize. Going into the hold, we found that she had little aboard save some campeachy-wood and some cocoa-nuts, and a couple of old brass guns, of about six pounds calibre, which seemed to have been put there for ballast. In the cabin was a good store of powder and lead for casting bullets, which was exceedingly valuable to us, and several long-barrelled muskets in good condition. The best part of the prize, however, was her storeroom, as it contained a great quantity of rope, canvas, and other things appertaining to the use of a ship. We also found a tool chest and a medicine chest, both of which were very welcome to us. In navigating the schooner, we, of course, divided ourselves into two watches—the larboard and the starboard watch, Nicky and I having the one, and Le Picard and the Indian the other. We also reefed our sails so as to have the ship snugger, and the better prepared for squalls should any happen. We made good progress that night when the land-breeze blew, and hoped next day, by evening, to observe the headlands of the Marmousettes. Catching sight, however, soon after sunrise, of a sail close in shore, and not wishing, in our weak condition, to be overhauled, we stood away directly to sea, so that, by noon, only the blue mountain ridges of Hispaniola were visible. In the afternoon we put about ship, and made again for the land. This long stretch caused us to lose much time, so that we had another night’s navigation before us ere we could work up to our bay. Nicky and I had the mid-watch. It was a glorious night. We were running five or six knots, with the cool land-breeze sighing in our sails. The heaven was one vault of stars, and, lying on deck wrapped up in folds of old canvas, while Nicky held the tiller beside me, I fixed my gaze upon the Southern Cross, that beautiful cluster of stars which shines only in the tropics, and which, appearing in the solemn and thoughtful night, always caused me to feel that I was in a strange part of the world, even more than the curious animals, and plants, and men, which one sees daily and ordinarily about one, when abroad. And yet, beautiful as the constellation was, methought it had less charms than the Plough, and the bright belt of Orion circling about the polar star, which I used to gaze upon in the long night-watches at home. As I thought of these, I thought of the old fisher-boat tossing upon the wild bay of St. Andrew’s, or lying stilly at her grapnel in the mouth of the Balwearie burn, while my mother and I sat with our palms mending nets upon the sand-hill in the sun. I think I would have been a great day-dreamer had I not led such a stirring life as kept my muscles busier than my brain; but on these quiet clear nights, aboard ship, when all was still, save the steady murmur of the wind, and the monotonous plunge of the vessel, as she breasted the ever-rolling seas—in these nights there is a witchery upon me, and I love to let my fancy carry me away, and surround me with old faces and old times. So now, being in this mood, I dreamed and dreamed with my eyes open, persuading myself that I was on board the Jean Livingstone again, and that we were jogging along the rocky coast of Forfar, until I actually started up, and looking at the shore to windward, thought that I could discover in the shimmer of the moon the tall white rock we called the Lady of Arbroath.

‘Nicky,’ says I, being in this mood, ‘do you ever think of home?’

‘That do I,’ he responded, ‘and hug myself that I am not there.’

‘But is there no old place,’ quoth I—‘no old face you would wish to look on again?’

‘Not a bit of it,’ he replied, ‘I am too happy here. We have a good ship, we have staunch comrades, we have prospect of wresting plenty of doubloons and pieces of eight from those rascally Spaniards. We have Jamaica, with all its taverns, and its dice, and its wenches, to help us to spend them; and besides all these, why, we have at this moment a steady land-breeze, which is sending us along at five knots, and a glass of good brandy, after a good supper, to keep out the marsh fever. What more can any man want?’

‘Perhaps,’ quoth I, ‘you were not happy at home?’

‘You have hit it there,’ replied my comrade. ‘No. My father was a stout king’s man—why he was so, I know not, for I am sure the king never did much for him. But poor dad got what brains he had knocked out at Naseby, and some time after my mother married old Ephraim Crotch, as bitter a Puritan as ever wore cropped hair and ass’s ears. Now I, being a youth of spirit, did in no ways take to my father-in-law—on the contrary. Well, I mocked his slang, and mimicked his snuffle. Many a time did he lay his staff across these shoulders—augh! they ache even now! The old frump—I hate the thought of him!—often hath he turned me out of doors, to sleep in the fields. Then have I peeped in at the lattice, and seen old square-toes snug in the chimney ingle. “Ha!” thought I, “my father’s bones would rattle in their grave could he but look in, and see you in his old oaken chair, whelp of the Barebones breed!” So you may believe that our house was a pretty place for bickering. I loved all that my stepfather hated. He said that music was devil’s screeching—ergo, I played the viol and the tabor till they were broken on my head. He denounced all diversion, swore that rope-dancing was a subtle device of the evil one, and that the bowling-alley was the highway to hell—ergo, did I frequent fairs and jovial meetings, where the bowls trundled, and wrestled many a fall, and grinned through many a horse collar. I promise thee, Will, I was not made for a Puritan, and so, at length, they having, by an ordinance of old Noll, hewed down our Maypole, I e’en laid a good thick splinter thereof across the back of my reverend stepfather, and marched from Cornwall for ever and a day.’

‘To London, no doubt?’ quoth I.

‘Even so,’ he said, ‘but there I found neither gold nor silver in the streets, and I lived for some months a very unedifying vagabond sort of life, knees and elbows being generally very bare, and stomach generally very hungry. At length, being hard driven, I e’en enlisted, though it went hard against my conscience, under Old Noll. Such drilling, such fighting, and such psalm-singing. The sergeant’s ratan was never off our shoulders, except when he was exhorting us in the pulpit, or standing on a horseblock, calling the royalists sons of Agag. So, this going on for some time, and I trying in vain to become a saint, for which I had not sufficient bad qualities, I e’en took leave to desert; and because the land was too hot to hold me, I became a mariner and went to sea. But at sea, Will, I saw one great sight, I saw the king land on the beach of Dover, and having long observed that seasons of rejoicing are seasons of hospitality, I treated my ship as I had done my regiment, and followed the royal train up to London. That was indeed a march. All the country flocked to the road to see the king come back to his own again. It was nothing but eating and drinking, and up caps, “Huzza for King Charles, and to the devil with the Rump!” Well, on Blackheath, near London, was drawn up my own old regiment. ‘Gad, the sun was on my side of the hedge now, for there stood our sergeant as grim as Beelzebub in the sulks, and I having many pottles of wine in me, gave a tug to his grizzled moustache, and asked what he thought of me for a son of Agag now. I warrant you Old Ironside used his halberd with very little discretion by way of reply, and so I came away with a bloody cockscomb. But all was one for that. Wine was a great balm, and I applied it plenteously; being indeed in a very loyal state of drunkenness for certain days, I know not how many, until, having a little recovered, I found myself in the filthy hold of a ship with other ragamuffins; some sober and weeping, some drunk and singing, and some ill with the small-pox and jail fever, raving and dying. Then I presently understood that all this goodly company was bound on a voyage to the plantations in Barbadoes—we having, it seems, signed articles to that effect, in consideration of certain small sums of money, which they told us we had received, and spent in drink very jovially, and as became stout-hearted fellows. I made a bold attempt to escape by knocking down the sentry at the hatchway, but all I gained by the proceeding was a pair of very heavy irons, which were put on near the Tower, and which were not knocked off until we were three days’ sail from Barbadoes. There I landed, and, being duly sold, was set to labour with sundry other companions in misfortune amongst the sugar-canes. In a few months I was one of a very few survivors, but being very weak and sickly from two fevers which I had, I was not very sharply looked after, and so I managed, without much difficulty, to smuggle myself on board a small bark bound for Jamaica, where I joined the “Brethren of the Coast,” and have lived a reasonably jolly life ever since.’

This was Nicky’s story, and an adventurous one it was. While I was thinking of it, he began again—

‘No, no—no England for me, while there are Spaniards to fight, good ships to sail in, and stout fellows to drink with in these bright Indian seas.’ And therewith, having taken a good draught of brandy, he burst out singing:

‘Take comfort, pretty Margery, and swab away your tears,
Your sweetheart, Tom, has sailed among the gallant Buccaneers,
So dry your eyes, my Margery, your Tom is true and bold,
And he’ll come again to see you, lass, with glory and with gold,
For his comrades are the stoutest and the bravest in the land,
And there’s ne’er a Don came out of Spain will meet them hand to hand.
So-ho! for pike and sabre cut, and balls about your ears,
’Tis little he must care for these, would join the Buccaneers!
‘The man who lies at home at ease, a craven heart has he,
While there’s wild boars on the hills to hunt, and Spaniards on the sea;
So look alive my stately Don, for spite your thundering guns,
Your shining gold we’ll make our own, and eke your pretty nuns.
We’ll spend the first, and love the last, and when we tire ashore,
’Tis but another cruise my boys, and back we come with more.
So-ho! for pike and sabre cut, and balls about your ears,
’Tis little he must care for these, would join the Buccaneers!’

‘Silence, silence, Nicky!’ said I, laughing; ‘you will awaken the watch below.’

‘So be it,’ quoth he; ‘to listen to such a song is better than sleep. ’Tis a rare good one, and a rare fellow made it in Tortugas, one night when we were melting the last pieces of eight remaining after a cruise on shore. But you put me out. Hear the last verse—

‘What though to peace in Europe, the Dons and we incline,
The treaty seldom has much force—to the south’ard of the line.
Here’s wassailing and fighting, the merriest of lives,
With staunch and jovial comrades, with sweethearts and with wives.
We sweep the green savannahs, we storm the Spanish walls,
And we’re kings upon the water, by the grace of cannon balls.
Then ho! for pike and sabre cut, and bullets round your ears,
’Tis little he must care for these, would head the Buccaneers!’

Next morning, after being becalmed as usual in the interval between the land breeze and the regular trade wind, we kept pretty close in with the coast, looking anxiously for our bay, and we even feared that we had overshot our mark; but about noon the well-known rocks became visible, and presently thereafter we dashed up the Marmousettes, wondering what our comrades would take us for. There was no English flag aboard; but thinking that the folks ashore would recognise the cut of the boat sail which we carried along with us, we hoisted that to the mainmast head, and with this strange standard flying approached the beach. We could see no change in the bay, and hoped to find our friends all well. Presently, as we were rounding a wooded point, and just opening the huts, a musket was fired ashore among the trees, and we heard the loud, hoarse voice of Meinheer shouting that a strange ship was in the bay. At this moment, doubling the little cape I speak of, and furling up our sails as well as we could, we descried the whole of our party running about in great commotion upon the beach, shouting to each other, loading their pieces, and hammering their flints. Thereon, we all gave a great cheer together, and showed ourselves conspicuously above the bulwarks; on which, we being immediately recognised, they answered our cheer with loud exclamations, and, running to the canoe, came alongside just as our anchor fell three fathoms deep upon the white sand.

‘What ship is this?’ exclaimed Stout Jem, who was the first to leap upon deck.

‘She was the schooner Nostra Senora del Carmine,’ I replied; ‘but now she is a bold privateer, and will, I hope, never hear a Spanish name again.’

Then we related all the particulars of the schooner’s capture, and informed our comrades what a clever sea-boat she was, and how we thought that, were she well manned, we could not have a more proper ship for our purpose. And then we moored the schooner carefully, and Stout Jem inspected her both below and aloft very minutely, being exceedingly well pleased at the quantity of stores which were on board, and also at the smart appearance and weatherly look of our prize. So all the company being in high spirits, we set to work at once to victual the schooner, having ample supplies of provisions at hand, and into her we of course transferred what clothes and property of the kind we had saved from the attack upon the first settlement; and having finished our task by nightfall, the whole party embarked, and we towed the schooner to the middle of the bay, where we anchored, and Stout Jem then proclaimed that he meant to hold a grand sailing council upon deck. This is a ceremony always in use amongst the buccaneers, and at these consultations they settle the articles of the voyage, and assign to every man what his share shall be of the total amount of booty which may be captured.

CHAPTER XI.
THE BUCCANEERS PRESENTLY SET SAIL IN THE SCHOONER FOR
JAMAICA, WITH A RELATION OF THE EVENTS WHICH HAPPENED
THERE.

Behold us, then, seated in great conclave under an awning, which it was Stout Jem’s first precaution to have spread, as, the berths in the schooner being close and stifling, we desired to sleep in the open air. In such a case, the stretching of an awning preserves a crew from the fall of the unwholesome dews, and from the rays of the moon, which, mild and beautiful as they are, yet, by some hidden power, swell and distort the features of such as sleep with their faces unprotected from the baneful light. A sea-box put upon deck served as a table, and we sat on chests and coils of rope round it. The night was beautiful and serene. The land-breeze just murmured aloft, the sleeping water of the bay was dotted with the twinkling images of the stars, and all around the dusky hills flung their forest ridges high into the balmy air—wreaths of mist and vapour, like broad white ribbons, showing where the rich alluvial valleys and ravines clove the sweep of the wooded uplands.

Two or three lanterns stood upon the chest, glimmering on the pans and pipkins wherein we held our punch, and the fiery red sparks beneath every man’s face gave note that we all loved to fortify our frames against night air by wholesome pipes and tobacco. So, presently, Stout Jem addressed us pretty nearly in this fashion:

‘Well, mates, we sit on the deck of our own craft, lawfully won from those misbegotten Spaniards, by four brave men of our own party. Now, as the capture was made before we are afloat, the vessel, by the laws of the coast, belongs to our comrades who took her, and of course they must be paid duly, when the prize-money comes to be overhauled. Meantime, the question is, shall we straightway go to sea?’

On this we all shouted—‘Yes, yes; a cruize, a cruize!’

‘Good,’ continued Stout Jem, ‘I say, with you, a cruize. That being settled, there are other matters to consider. Here are no guns, either calivers, arquebusses, culverins, or falconets. To make booty of the rich Spanish galleons without cannon, is like trying to eat a lump of bull-beef without teeth. The two brass guns below may do in their way. For these we have, however, no carriages; and besides, we want a piece of far heavier metal. Another matter is, that on board here we have neither a surgeon nor a carpenter, although both we and our ship are likely to meet with plenty of hard knocks; and furthermore, to make a cruize successful—and as the old falconers were wont to say—to fly at game of the first head, we must have more men. Jack Spaniard does not always leave his ships defenceless, and his galleons have rows of teeth which bite sharply. My counsel therefore is, that we stand for Port Royal in Jamaica. On the way we may chance upon a something worth picking up, and once arrived there, we can fit out in good style, and take on board what men we please. Besides, there we can have a French commission, or Letter of Marque, the French being now at war with the Spanish. I know that the Dons have hung many of our brave comrades with their commissions about their necks, but still I approve of doing all things regularly and in order. Now, then, you have heard my advice—what do you say to it?’

We replied, with great acclamations, that he had spoken very justly; that we had all confidence in his counsels, and that we created him captain of the expedition. After some further discussion, I was named quartermaster, I being a more experienced sailor than many older men; and to Stout Jem, or, as we now called him, Captain Jem, was given the charge of the larboard, and to me the charge of the starboard watch. This done, we re-christened the schooner—dashing a bottle of spirits upon her bows—and calling her the ‘Will-o’-the-Wisp.’ We lay quietly at anchor that night, and weighing before dawn, the last of the land-wind carried us clear of the bay, and when the sea-breeze struck us next morning, we up helm, veered away the sheets, and stood away along the coast bound for Jamaica.

How vast is the difference between beating to windward in a small vessel against a rough sea, and flying gaily on before wind and waves! Cape and headland, and bay and creek, appeared and disappeared, as the nimble Will-o’-the-Wisp went bounding on, kicked as it were by every foaming sea which rolled behind her. You may be sure that we kept a good look-out for the former owners of the schooner, as we ran just past the entrance to the cove, but no human form could we descry among the rocks and woods. Not very far to leeward, we however observed a boat, with a small clumsy sail, making her way along the coast; and, approaching a little nearer, I soon guessed that she was the boat of the Spaniards, which we had given up to them, and that they were probably risking the chances of a run to Cuba. To satisfy our curiosity, however, we kept slightly away and a cry soon overhauled the little craft. She had but four men in her, including he who seemed to have been the captain, and the woman. Their sail was a clumsy thing, made of hides and scraps of canvas, and useless for any other purpose than to drive before the wind. As we approached them, the captain got up and hailed us very vehemently in Spanish. The purport of his discourse, as I gathered it, being whether, after robbing him of his ship, we meant to run down and sink the boat. A movement of the tiller soon made him easy on that point, and he sat down doggedly, with his teeth clenched, scowling at us. The woman clung to him convulsively, and the three men lay stretched in the bottom of the boat, only showing their tangled hair and black eyes above the gunwale. Captain Jem, who as he was a brave man, was a kind one, told me to ask whether they needed any food or water, which I did; but the Spaniard only waved his hand impatiently, muttered somewhat about ‘Perros Inglesos’ English dogs; and one or two of the men clenched their fists at us over the side of the boat. All this, however, we could well afford to take in good humour.

‘Well,’ quoth Captain Jem, ‘if they are well victualled, so are we; and if they won’t say aught to us, we have little that I know of to say to them. So, cast loose your brails, my sons, and let’s be jogging.’

The sails, which had been partially furled, were accordingly reset, and in half an hour the boat was a speck on the horizon to windward. We ran through the strait which separates Hispaniola from Tortugas, near enough to the latter coast to see that there were long stretches of flat rich land washed by the sea, and high mountains beyond. We also saw a great many sails of small boats and barks coasting along, and innumerable canoes fishing. That same night we passed the north-eastern part of Hispaniola, and, directing our course towards the south-east, sailed straight for Jamaica. In the afternoon of the next day we sighted at a great distance the longest outlying point of Hispaniola, and in twenty-four hours thereafter, descried Cape Morant, in Jamaica; and coasting along the southern shore, which lies hereabouts, very rich and flat, with great peaks, called the Blue Mountains, in the distance, we descried at nightfall the glimmer of distant lights, which we knew to be those of Port Royal. Here is the principal harbour in the island—a very commodious and safe one—formed by a deep indentation in the land, like a gulf, and sheltered by a long spit or bank of sand, called the Palisades, on which the surf beats vehemently, while within the water is like a mill-pond. There is but one entrance, and that well fortified; and the town of Port Royal is built just beyond the inlet or passage from the sea. Although it was near midnight when we anchored outside, resolving not to enter until we had daylight to help our pilot, a canoe presently came alongside of us, manned by a couple of negroes, who were fishermen and pilots, and who offered us abundance of fish and fruit very cheap. These men managed their canoe like thorough seamen, and one of them we retained to take us in as soon as the sea-breeze should blow next morning.

This fellow wore coarse canvas trousers, a striped shirt, and a great straw hat, and grinned and showed his white teeth, and rolled his eyes, and clattered in his gibberish fashion to all on board.

‘Oh, me de best pilot in all Port Royal,’ he would say; ‘take in a king’s ship, big enough to put dis schooner in him pocket, and never rub him keel. No, no, massa, Dick Canoe,’ for so he called himself, ‘de best pilot in all de island, and bery much esteem and respect by all de merchants, officers, and gentlemen privateers.’

On asking him for news, he told us that many privateers were in the harbour, and that their crews having had reasonably good luck in an expedition to the main, were spending their money in the usual fashion ashore; information which pleased us the more, as we would probably have our pick and choice of good men. So next day we ran in among very intricate sand-banks, which lie at the mouth of the harbour, and presently saw the houses of Port Royal, with hundreds of artificers labouring to construct forts and bastions and such works around them, disposed so as to command the entrance to the harbour completely. Inside, in the smooth water, rode many brave merchant ships and certain smaller barks, which, I believe, had often brought destruction upon the Spanish towns of the main; but these last seemed empty, except a negro or two left in charge of them, all hands being carousing on shore. We dropped our anchor in a suitable place, and cast lots who should remain on board to take charge of the schooner, while the rest went into the town. The die fell upon Black Diamond, and the Mosquito men stayed on board voluntarily, intending, however, to put off in a canoe during the day to strike fish upon the sand-banks and the little islands near the Palisades. Captain Jem, Nicky, and myself went ashore in the pilot’s canoe, meaning to make the necessary arrangements for the further prosecution of our voyage. We found Port Royal very bustling and busy. As I have said, the people were occupied in building great fortifications, under the direction of officers in the English uniform, some of the workmen being, as we heard, criminals, others negro slaves, and the rest free labourers, either white or black. On the beach, great crowds of negroes were rolling down casks to the water’s edge, or along the wharfs, where the boats of the ships in the harbour were awaiting them; these labourers being generally naked except a pair of light drawers and a tattered shirt, and shouting, and chattering, and laughing to each other, while the white drivers, who walked amongst them with great broad-brimmed hats, very often interrupted their conversations with a smart crack of the whip, and a harsh order to labour on. Passing through these busy crowds, and amongst great heaps of goods, such as bales and casks just landed from England, and masses of shipping stores, over which grave merchants and supercargoes were busy with pen and ink, comparing invoices, bills of lading, and what not, and wrangling about qualities and freights, we emerged among the houses of the town, which were in general mean, and but of one story, built indeed commonly of wood, with shingle roofs, which rattled in the sea-breeze, and often sheltered by orange trees covered at once with fruit and bright flowers, and mangoes with their heavy foliage, and tamarinds, with branching feathery leaves, and long waving pods. The houses had great open casements and covered galleries, called jalousies, with pillars, round which many gaudy creeping plants clung. Here there were great stores, with all manner of commodities, and there, vast taverns, from the open windows of which we could hear loud roaring songs in French and English, and a great clatter of glasses; and now and then, when the noise somewhat lulled, the rattle of dice. The streets, which were very narrow, dusty, and irregular, were crowded with groups of half-drunken seamen and their trulls, gangs of negroes carrying great baskets of fruit and vegetables on their heads down to the harbour, with planters upon horseback, who rode along scattering the crowd right and left, and bullock-carts, which creaked and rumbled by, laden with kegs of sugar or rum, and drawn by oxen, all slavering at the mouth, and seeming half dead with dust and heat. Through these crowded and smothering streets, Captain Jem, who was our leader, pushed along with the air of a man who knew his business and could do it. He was often stopped and accosted by his acquaintances, many of whom professed themselves surprised to see him, as they heard that he had been murdered by the Spaniards in Hispaniola.

‘What! Stout Jem, still in the land of the living?’ said one man, a very tall personage, burnt almost black by the sun, wearing great moustaches, and having a hanger fixed to a broad leathern belt—‘what! Stout Jem again! Why, my lad, we drank a rousing glass to thy memory no later than the night before last, at Nance Finlayson’s on the quay. We heard that the Spaniards had sent thee from Hispaniola to a hotter place still.’

‘No, no, Captain Archemboe,’ quoth our commander; ‘they tried, but having failed, we mean to have our revenge.’

‘What! and you have left the wild bulls and are for the sea again? It doth thee honour, man. Hunters are but gentlemen butchers after all. The sea, sir—the sea, with a tight ship, and tight lads for a crew, and reasonable good luck among the galleons—that, sir, is the field, and these be the chances for gentlemen! They tell me that Davis hath come in from the main after a very good cruise, so now I am bound shoreward to see my ancient friend, who, I warrant thee, will screw gold out of the Spaniards, though he squeeze them till it distil at each pore. I give you good day—I give you good day!’

And so, calling to an attendant negro, this formidable gentleman passed on. Captain Jem told us that his name was Crashaw, and that he had been a valiant buccaneer under Mansneldt, but was now retired from the sea, and very rich. He cultivated considerable plantations, and had shares in many privateers. Our object was, however, first to see a person of Captain Jem’s acquaintance, who was an old man, a money-lender and usurer, and a sort of agent for many of the buccaneers, as it was necessary that we should obtain certain stores upon credit before setting out upon our voyage, and this old man was in use to serve privateers in such matters. Accordingly, we presently came to a long, rambling sort of house, in which was a great open store, full of goods of all kinds, while vast masses of ship furniture and implements, such as stones, anchors, boats, and the like, lay under sheds around. There were many seafaring people viewing the property, and chaffering with the clerks and workmen who sold the goods. But Captain Jem passing through them into the store, amid the bows and congratulations of many there, we followed him through a small door and sundry passages into a distant room, within which we heard a rustling of paper, and presently, Captain Jem pushing open the door, we found ourselves in the company of an aged man, with long white hair, a thin face, and very bright grey eyes, who was seated at a desk, he wearing a dirty, greasy doublet, all ink-stains, and loose pantouffles, or breeches, much too big for him. Upon sight of Captain Jem, he got up hurriedly and shook him very cordially by the hand, saying, like the other, that he never thought to have seen him again, for that the Spaniards were reported to have made but short work of all the English and French hunters on the northern coast of Hispaniola. Upon this Captain Jem told him how we had captured a very fine Spanish vessel, and designed to put to sea again directly; but that in the meantime he must furnish us with sufficient stores and ammunition, and so become a partner in the enterprise. The old man at first shook his head.

‘Look ye,’ said he, ‘little is done now-a-days save by fleets. My good friend Captain Morgan, a very brave man, and wise in those things, ever recommends union. The Spaniards’ treasure-ships commonly sail in squadrons, and heavily armed; and their towns along the coast are very securely guarded, so that there is usually hard fighting before these be come at. However,’ quoth he, ‘I have great confidence in you, Ezra Hoskins—or Stout Jem, as I hear they call you—and provided your crew be such as I approve of, why I will stand the risk of loss in the venture, being well assured that you and your men will do their best for me and for themselves.’

At this, Captain Jem re-assured the old gentleman very warmly, and then it was settled that he should come aboard the ship that evening, to see what might be wanting, and how many guns we could stow. After this he ordered refreshments of spirits and tobacco, and while we were smoking, he called a young clerk, and writing a short letter, gave it him, with instructions that he was to carry it at once to the jailor of the town prison, who would thereupon bring Alonzo Peres before us. The old man, observing that we looked inquiringly at each other, told us that a vessel, in which he had no mean share, being cruising in the Gulf of Darien, had fallen in with and captured a Spanish Barco del Aviso, or packet-boat, which had, however, as usual, thrown her despatches overboard in a sealed leaden case. But the captain of this barco proving, when made a prisoner, a cowardly fellow who would reveal all he knew of the movements of the richly laden ships belonging to his countrymen, the English had kept this man a prisoner on board, while they dismissed his comrades in a piragua, intending to get all the information they could out of him.

‘Therefore,’ quoth our old gentleman, who I found was called Pratt—‘therefore, we will have him here, and examine him. The bark which took him has gone to the Pearl Islands on the Mosquito shore, and perhaps he can give some information which may guide you on your cruise.’

So presently the Spaniard was brought in pinioned, and led by two men. He was a very big man, but with scowling and mean features; and by his air and complexion, he seemed to have been lying weeping in the straw of his dungeon. On seeing us, he immediately began, in the Spanish language, to pray, in the name of all things holy, that we should dismiss him, and let him go back to the mainland to his daughter Paquitta, whom he loved very dearly, pitiably exclaiming that he was a poor man, who had been ruined; still that he wished the English no harm, and would pray for them for ever, if they would only let him go.

But Pratt cut him short in his lamentings, and proceeded to ask, in Spanish, which he spoke very fluently, a great number of questions, as to the trade between Carthagena and Old Spain, and as to when certain richly-laden ships—the names whereof Pratt had at hand in a great register—would sail out of that port. To all this the Spaniard replied very amply and humbly, and said, in particular, that a large ship, in which was embarked a considerable quantity of pieces of eight, and silver plate to a much greater amount, but he could not say exactly how much, would probably be ready for sea, and put out in about two mouths’ time. This ship carried, he informed us, a private venture, and would not have convoy. Moreover, she was old, and a very slow sailer, and that the merchant who freighted her was the more confident that she would escape, inasmuch as it was reported and believed in Carthagena, that all the buccaneers were upon the point of joining their strength in Jamaica, and landing about Porto Bello, with the intention of crossing the isthmus, and making a descent upon Panama and the shores of the South Sea. This account the traitor confirmed with abundance of oaths, calling upon us to believe him the more, inasmuch as, quoth he, ‘I have now no reason to tell you a lie; I stand in your power, and if you hear more certain news, which is likely, and it contradict what I have said, why I am in your hands to work your will on!’ And with that the pitiful-hearted creature began to sob and weep again. Truly, I had never seen so small a soul in so big, lusty, and goodly a body.

Having made his disclosures, Pratt told the Spaniard that he should no more go to prison, but live there in his house, and if all turned out to be true as he had stated, that he would have his liberty, and, it might be, a reward beside. So he being dismissed, we talked the thing over, and determined to propose to the crew a cruise on the Darien coast, and perhaps to look into the Gulf of Venezuela. We then took leave of Mr. Pratt with many courtesies, and returned towards the beach. On our way hither, we heard a great tumult and clamour, and, turning down a narrow lane into the street from whence it proceeded, saw, what was to me a new and strange sight. In an open space, which partially commanded the sea, and backed by a great tavern with verandahs and galleries, was assembled a crowd of people, men and women, white, brown, and black, drinking, smoking, dicing, and swearing. There were tables and huge benches scattered about, and sitting on these in every attitude, or lying on the ground, not being able either to sit or stand, were the people of this strange company. In the centre of the carousing place, was a great cask with the head knocked out, and from it a half-drunken seaman, with a face of leering shyness, was drawing forth wine in a broken bucket, and pouring it into the glasses, mugs, and pipkins, held out to him on all sides. Most of the men were white seamen, and they sprawled over the tables and benches, with tobacco pipes in their mouths, and waved their glasses, and sang loud catches and songs, in which the shrill screaming voices of the women rose above their hoarse bawling. Most of these women seemed of the sort which frequent the streets in Wapping, and rob the seamen; others were half-bloods, being mulattos; or mustafees—that is to say, three-parts Indian; or quadroons—that is to say, three-parts white. But they were all dressed in flaunting gauds, and the sparkle of jewellery flashed upon their brown skins, as they flung their arms about, and rattled dice, or swallowed liquor like the men. Every now and then a brawl would arise, and knives would straightway glitter in the air, and loud thick voices would shout out oaths and exclamations in English, and French, and Low Dutch. But the general feeling of the revellers being pacific, the combatants would be straightway torn asunder, and perhaps flung upon the ground, to the danger of their bones; after which, the orgies would proceed as before; the men would rush in staggering groups up to the cask, or would produce their dice again, or greasy packs of cards—a species of gambling we learned from the French—and set themselves to play, some with great gravity and in silence, others shouting and yelling as luck turned for or against them, and all of them tossing about handfuls of gold and silver, such as dollars and doubloons, as though the money had been dirt; until, perhaps, a party would break out into a loud roaring song, all curses of the Spaniards, which heating them to the highest pitch, they would start up, the women with them, hallooing and screaming like fiends, and capering and jumping, tossing over benches and tables upon the ground, and at last drawing forth, and brandishing their hangers, and firing their pistols in the air!

In the very midst of this riotous assemblage, a man, not very sober, but not very drunk, got upon the top of an empty cask, he being supported at the legs by the same Crashaw we had met, and bawled out in a thundering voice that he was going to sell certain commissions to cruise against and capture Spanish vessels, and that those gentlemen privateers who designed shortly to go to sea again, would do well to hearken, and if possible purchase, as the commissions would be sold very cheap, and their product would be spent in wine, to be drunk out at that present sitting by all the honourable company. At this announcement there was a general uproar of approbation, and Captain Jem, plucking my sleeve, said, that hero might be matter which concerned us, and, having whispered that the man on the cask was Captain Davis, of whom Crashaw had spoken, we made our way through the throng, who indeed received us very cordially, everywhere holding up full glasses of wine and brandy, and pressing us to drink. Meanwhile Davis recognised Captain Jem, and, jumping down from the cask, bade him welcome. Seats were immediately procured for us, by the summary process of flinging their former occupants on the ground, and we lit pipes and jingled glasses, like the rest; although I do not know a more disgusting thing than when a sober man comes into the company of many who are drunken, and has yet, in a certain degree, to conform to the humour of those about him. From Davis, Captain Jem at once procured such a commission as he thought we wanted. I did not see what mighty good the document could do us; but it seems to have been a fancy of our commander’s, and for the paper we agreed to pay a couple of doubloons, for which we gave an order upon Mr. Pratt, which was immediately sent into the tavern, and shortly re-appeared in the shape of an additional keg of wine, although that in the cask was not yet, by any means, consumed. But when the Buccaneers saw the fresh liquor, they flung their lighted tobacco-pipes into the old cask, and then, with drunken glee, drew forth great mugs and glassfuls, with which they besprinkled each other, and at last upset the cask, treading, trampling, and dancing in the spilt wine, until they had churned it into red mud.