Chapter Seven
On sailed the boat. The black was the only person who kept his eyes constantly moving about him. He might have suspected treachery. Suddenly his whole manner seemed changed. He jumped to his feet clapping his hands. “A sail – a sail,” he cried. Then he sat down and wept. All looked eagerly in the direction towards which he pointed. A large barque was crossing their course, but how could they hope that a small boat could be seen by the people on board at that great distance? They got out the oars, but their strength was insufficient to go through the movements of rowing, much less to urge on the boat. All they could do was to sit still and wait, watching with intense eagerness every movement of the stranger. Picture them at this juncture. On, on they sailed. Every one felt that if they missed the vessel their fate was sealed. A simultaneous groan escaped their bosom. She altered her course, and was standing away from them. One of the men threw himself down into the bottom of the boat, prepared to die. Still Jack kept his eye on the barque. “See – see dere!” exclaimed Sambo. The barque had hove to. Why, they could not tell, at the distance she was away. She had done so without reference to them. Perhaps some one had fallen overboard. How anxiously did they wait!
As they were looking a spout of water rose in the air. “Whales! whales!” cried Sambo. “See dere is anoder.” Ere long they descried a boat rapidly approaching, urged on by some unseen power. She dashed by them, her bows covered with foam.
Well might her crew look with surprise and horror at the hapless beings in the Indiaman’s boat. Jack and Sambo and the mate waved their hands, their voices were too weak and hollow to be heard. “We’ll come to you – we’ll come to you, poor fellows!” shouted the crew of the whale boat. It was long, however, before the whale to which the boat was fast rose to the surface, and lashing the sea with its tremendous tail, spouted out its life blood and died. The whaler had made sail after her boat, and now seeing the Indiaman’s boat, took Jack and his companions on board.
“Who sent that whale towards us when we were almost dead?” thought Jack; as often as he asked the question the answer came: “It was God in His great mercy guided the senseless fish that we might be saved.”
There were but five survivors. One man, he whose ominous looks had made the mate draw his pistol, had not lived to see the approach of the whale boat. Jack and his companions were treated not unkindly on board, though their life was a rough one. The whaler was an American, outward bound, and five fresh hands when their strength returned were no unwelcome addition to her crew. Their early success put all hands in good humour, and several sperm whales were killed before they reached their usual cruising ground on the borders of the Antarctic ice fields. Jack was soon initiated into the mysteries of blubber cutting and boiling, and as the dirt and oil-begrimed countenances of the men were seen as they moved around their seething cauldrons, amid bright flames and dense masses of smoke, they looked like spirits of evil summoned to labour by some diabolical agency.
Several weeks thus passed by, when the whaler with a full cargo was once more steered northward. All hands were exulting in their success. The weather had been fine. There was every prospect of a prosperous voyage. Cape Horn had been rounded, and they were at no great distance from the coast of South America. Before long, however, a change took place; thick weather came on, and for many days not a glimpse of the sun was obtained. The master too was taken ill, and the first mate had proved himself a bad navigator. The result was that the ship was out of her reckoning. A gale sprung up, which, shifting to the eastward, increased to a hurricane.
The belief was that the ship was a long way from the coast.
It was night. The darkness was intense, such as can be felt. The gale had somewhat abated, and it was hoped that canvas might soon be got on the ship to take her off the land, when that terror-inspiring cry arose from forward: – “Breakers ahead!” In tones of dismay it was repeated along the decks. “There’s a watery grave for most of us then,” exclaimed the old boatswain, near whom Jack was standing. Scarcely had he spoken when the ship struck, and the wild sea made a clean breach over her, washing many poor fellows to destruction. Groans of horror, shrieks of despair rose on every side; but the sounds were quickly silenced by the roar of the waves, the crashing of the falling sails, and the wrenching asunder of the stout timbers. Jack clung to the bulwarks, and as they gave way he found himself borne onward with them through the foaming breakers into comparatively smooth water. The force of the wind still drove him on till he felt his feet touching the hard sand. Disengaging himself from the pieces of wreck, before the waters returned, he was beyond their reach.
He sat down – he thought – how good God had been again to save him, and he tried to shape his thoughts into prayer; but there had been nothing like prayer on board the whaler, and he could not pray. For some time he sat almost stupified; then he roused himself and listened for the sound of some human voice to tell him that others had escaped from the wreck. “I should go and help them if they have,” he exclaimed, starting to his feet. He ran along the beach calling out: a voice replied. He at the same moment came across a coil of light rope. Carrying it on his arm he hove the end of it towards the spot whence the voice came. Twice he hove, and had again to haul it in. The third time it was seized. He dragged on shore one of the whaler’s crew. Jack placed him out of the reach of the waves and ran on, for he thought that he heard another person calling. Again his rope was of use. He discerned through the darkness a large piece of the wreck. Three men were clinging to it. One of them was Sambo. Together they continued their search for others, venturing as far into the water as they dared. Another man was found struggling to gain the shore. He was almost exhausted. By himself he could not have succeeded. Jack was truly glad to find his old friend Mr Collins, the mate of the Indiaman. After a little time he also recovered, and together the survivors continued their search. In vain they searched during the night. The next morning not a particle of the wreck was found hanging together. Some dead bodies were washed on shore, and several articles also of which the shipwrecked mariners stood much in need were picked up, casks of provisions, clothing, tools, and some arms and powder and shot. They had thus no fear of starving. As soon as they had collected whatever the waves threw up they climbed to the top of the cliffs to look around them. They were evidently in an uncivilised part of the country, though it was well wooded and watered. Their great fear was from the Indians, a fierce race thereabouts. The mate, who naturally took the lead, told them that they might be able probably to reach some of the Spanish settlements, and they resolved to set off in search of them. It was necessary, however, that they should lay in a store of provisions, and recover their strength for the journey. There were numerous large trees and rocks scattered about the shore, and the shipwrecked seamen soon discovered a cave in one of the rocks, where they could shelter themselves from the wind and rain, and in which they might lay up their stores.
Chapter Eight
Several days passed quietly away, most of the party going out for a few hours at a time to endeavour to shoot any animals or birds which might serve to vary their diet. At length, however, they fancied themselves strong enough to prosecute their journey, and a day was fixed on which to commence it. One morning the party, as was their custom, went out in pairs to hunt. Jack accompanied Sambo. They were later than usual, but on their return they saw no signs of a fire at their hut, nor any sounds from their companions. Jack’s heart sunk within him. On reaching the hut his apprehensions were verified. It was stripped almost of everything. The articles too bulky to be carried off were broken in pieces. What had become of their companions? “Me fear killed,” said Sambo, who had been looking anxiously about. He beckoned to Jack, and penetrating through the wood to a short distance they found the dead bodies of two of their late companions. Sambo, after examining the marks on the ground, declared it his belief that their other two companions had been carried off by the Indians, Jack’s first impulse was to run away from the fatal spot, but on consulting with Sambo they agreed that the Indians, having carried off every thing, were not likely to return: besides, without the mate to guide them, they were unable to find their way to the European settlements. He, with the other man, had probably been carried away by the Indians. All they could hope for was that some vessel might visit that part of the coast and take them off.
They had guns, but a very small supply of powder, and this they determined to keep to make a signal should it be necessary. As, however, Sambo knew a variety of methods of trapping both birds and beasts and of catching fish, and also what roots and fruits were wholesome and unwholesome, they were not likely to want food. Day after day, and week after week, and month after month passed away, till Jack lost all count of time and began to fear that no vessel would ever come to take them off. Several times in the summer they met with traces of Indians, but Sambo was always able to avoid them. Numberless were the adventures they met with and the risks they ran. Jack had reason to be thankful that he had so intelligent a companion and faithful a friend as Sambo, though they had not much power of interchanging ideas. “What matters the colour of our skin?” thought Jack. “The same God made us both, and I love him as a brother.” At length Jack began to be very anxious to get away. He thought that he might have to live there for ever. Sambo was much more contented with his lot.
Some twenty months or so had passed away since the shipwreck, when one morning, as Jack went to the top of a cliff to take his usual look for a vessel, he saw a large brig standing along the shore about a mile to the northward. He hurried back to the cave to call Sambo, and to get their musket with the few rounds of ammunition they had left. The two returned to the shore. Jack’s heart beat quicker than it had ever before done. Off he set, followed by Sambo along the beach in the direction of the brig. He was afraid she might stand off shore again without any on board observing them. At length they came abreast of the brig. They shouted and waved their handkerchiefs; still no notice was taken of them. “We must fire,” said Jack. But the powder flashed in the pan. He tried again. “Make haste! make haste!” shouted Sambo. They were standing on the summit of a rock which lay on the beach, with a wide extent of open country which sloped up from the shore behind them. There, galloping towards them at full speed, were a band of mounted Indians. Jack again primed the musket. It went off. He loaded and fired again. The signal was observed on board the brig, and a gun was fired in return. The reports of the firearms had the effect of making the Indians rein in their steeds and look about them. At the same time a boat put off from the brig. She was immediately perceived by the Indians, and again they advanced, but more cautiously than before. Jack and Sambo looked anxiously at the boat. It was doubtful whether she or the Indians would reach them first. They rushed down to the beach and waded into the water. The crew of the boat saw their danger. On came the Indians with terrific yells, flourishing their lassoes high above their heads. Jack and Sambo saw that narrow indeed was their chance of escape. The brig had been standing in shore. Just then she brought her broadside to bear, and opening her ports sent a shower of round shot among the Indians. Two or three of their saddles were emptied and they again halted. The delay enabled Jack and Sambo to spring into the boat. Scarcely had her head been pulled round, when the Indians, again galloping on, dashed into the water and endeavoured to throw their lassoes over their heads. One man was very nearly caught, but he had a sharp knife ready to cut the rope as it reached his neck. Others among the Indians shot arrows at them, but the boat’s crew having no arms could not retaliate, and Jack’s musket had got wet. By smart pulling they were soon safe on board the brig.
Chapter Nine
Jack and his companion found the brig was in search of a spot further to the south where good water could be got. Having visited it, Jack and Sambo were able to pilot her there, and thus at once obtained favour with their captain. They had not been many days on board before Jack became suspicious of the character of the Sea Hawk, such was the name of the brig. “Don’t ask questions,” was the only answer he got when he inquired under what flag she sailed. He found that she was neither English nor American; still she was strongly armed, and from the bandages which decked the heads and arms of several of the crew, and the marks of shot in her hull and rigging, it was evident she had only lately been engaged. The people also were of all nations and colours, and dressed in every variety of costume. Watching his opportunity he mentioned his doubts to Sambo. The black shook his head. “Berry bad, me fear,” he replied. “This brig one big pirate – nothin’ else.” Jack had once seen some pirates hanging in chains, and had a wholesome fear of their character. He was therefore not a little anxious to get out of their company. He, however, said nothing, and went about his duty cheerfully.
In spite of the lawless manners of the crew, there was strict discipline maintained on board, and a sharp look out kept. From their conversation, Jack guessed that they were on the watch for some of the homeward-bound Spanish ships from Peru or Mexico, supposed to be freighted with gold and other valuable commodities. No one was more constantly on the alert than the captain. Every one paid him the greatest respect. Jack at first could not tell why. His outward appearance had nothing about it of the ferocious pirate. Captain John was a little man, somewhat sunburnt and wizened, and no beauty certainly, but with usually a calm, rather benignant expression of countenance, and a gentle soft voice. If, however, any thing went wrong or in any way displeased him, his eye kindled up, and his voice gave out a note between the roar of a lion and the croak of a raven, and on these occasions Jack always felt inclined to get away from him as far as he could.
Several weeks passed away and no prize had been made. A thick fog had hung over the sea since daybreak, shrouding every thing near or far from sight. A breeze springing up soon after noon, the fog lifted, when away dead to leeward a ship was descried, her maintop just appearing above the horizon. Instantly all sail was made in chase. No one doubted but that at length a prize long waited for was to be theirs. They rapidly overhauled the stranger, who, apparently unsuspicious of danger, was holding her course to the northward. As the Sea Hawk neared her, she seemed to be a large ship, her build, her paint and rigging shewing her to be a merchantman. At the same time, as a Spanish ship of her size would certainly carry guns, and as her crew might possibly fight them to defend their freight, the pirates went to their quarters to be prepared for the strife. However, when the brig drew still nearer she seemed in no way inclined to begin the combat. This made the pirates fancy that she would not fight at all, and that they would obtain an easy victory. “We must not let one of the people escape to bear witness against us,” said the mild-looking Captain John as he eyed the stranger. Sad was the fate awaiting all on board the merchantman. Nearer and nearer drew the two vessels. So completely did the pirate brig outsail the other that the Sea Hawk might be likened to a spider with a fly in his toils.
The brig, hoisting her accursed black flag, sure harbinger of death and destruction, was about to pour in her broadside, when an exclamation escaped the pirate captain. Large folds of canvas were drawn up from the ship’s sides, down came tumbling sundry other bits from aloft, the muzzles of twenty guns looked grinning out of her ports, up went the glorious British ensign at her peak, and at the same moment the frigate, for such she was, sent forth a terrific shower of round shot and langrage, which made the pirate brig tremble to her keel, and struck down many a fierce desperado never to rise again.
The pirate captain now seemed in his element, though he must have known his case to be desperate. Ordering his man to fire high, wishing to disable his opponent, he braced up his yards in the hopes of getting off to windward; but the hitherto slow sailing frigate showed that she had a quick pair of heels of her own, and was immediately after him. Jack was endeavouring to get away, that he might not fire on his countrymen; but the pirates drove him back to his gun, with the threat of shooting him if he attempted to desert them again. Sambo, on account of his general intelligence, had been made captain of his gun, and he seemed to be as eager in working it as any one else; but he gave Jack a hint that no one on board the frigate would be the worse for any shot he fired. Now began a scene of the most terrific carnage. The pirates fought like demons; but were struck down by numbers at a time, till the deck became a complete shambles. Still Jack and Sambo were unhurt. Some of the pirates gave signs of a desire to haul down their flag; but their captain shot a man who was attempting the operation, and that made the others desist. At length Captain John received a wound and fell to the deck, and the crew rushing aft struck to the frigate. After giving them a couple of extra broadsides – for pirates are seldom treated with courtesy – the victor sent his boats, well armed, to take possession. No further opposition was made, though the little captain, as he lay writhing on the deck, urged his crew to heave cold shot into the boats as they came alongside. The British seamen climbed up the sides with their cutlasses in their teeth, and took possession of their prize.