Фредерик Марриет
The Privateersman
I was dragged aft to give an account of myself, and I stated in few words that I had been pursued by the Indians, and swam off to save my life.
“Hav’n’t we met before?” said a rough voice.
I looked, and saw the Jolly Rover whom I had fallen in with on shore. I said, “Yes; I was escaping from the Indians when I met you, and you showed me the direction of the plantations.”
“All’s right,” said he. “It’s a true bill; and were those Indians after you that we saw on the beach just now?”
“Yes,” I replied; and then I stated how it was that they had attacked our cabin, and how we had escaped.
“That was well done, and so you swam off three miles. Fire and water won’t hurt you; that’s clear. You’re just the man for us. What thing-um-bob is this that you have hung round your neck?” said he, taking up the leathern bag with the diamond in it.
“That,” replied I—a sudden thought having struck me—“is my caul; I was born with a caul, and I have always worn it, as it saves a man from drowning.”
“No wonder that you swam three miles, then,” replied the man.
You must know, Madam, that some people are born with a membrane over the face, which is termed a caul, and there has been a vulgar error that such people can never be drowned, especially if they wear this caul about their person in after-life. Sailors are superstitious in many things, but particularly in this, and my caul was therefore as much-respected by them as it hung round my neck, as it was by the Indians when they thought it was what they call “magic” or “medicine.”
“Well,” said the Jolly Rover, “as you had so much fire, so much water, and so much running, I think you won’t be sorry to have a biscuit and glass of grog, and then turn in; to-morrow we will talk to you.”
I went down below, very glad to accept the offer, and as I was regaling myself, who should come up to me but two of the Portuguese who had been wrecked in the xebeque, and put on shore with me in the little boat by the captain of the Transcendant. I was very glad to see them. They told me that, after great hardship and suffering, they had arrived famished at the banks of this river, and had been taken on board by the pirates, and had remained with them ever since; that they were very anxious to get away, but never had an opportunity. I begged them not to say who I was, but merely that I was once a shipmate of theirs. They promised, and being very tired, I then lay down and fell asleep. I was so worn out, that I did not wake till the next morning, when I found that we were under all sail running down to the southward. I saw the Jolly Rover, as I had termed him, on deck, (his real or assumed name, I don’t know which, I found out to be Toplift,) sitting on a gun abaft. He called me to him. I said:
“Are you the captain?”
“Yes,” he replied, “for want of a better. I told you months ago what we were, so it’s no use repeating it. Do you intend to join us?”
“Then,” replied I, “I will be very candid with you. I have been driven, as it were, on board of your vessel, but certainly without knowing exactly what she was. Now, captain, I have to ask you one question:– Would you, if you could go on shore in England, with plenty of money at your command, and plenty of good friends,—would you be here?”
“No; certainly not,” replied he.
“Well; I am in that position. If once in England, I have money enough to live upon, and plenty of friends; I therefore naturally want to get back to England, and not to run the risk of my neck on board of this vessel.”
“That’s very true,” replied he, “but there are other considerations; my men won’t have a man on board who will not swear fidelity, and if you will not, I cannot protect you,—they will throw you overboard. We don’t carry passengers.”
“That’s very true, also; and I will swear fidelity so far as this, that you never shall be betrayed by me, and I never will appear as a witness against one of you; it were most ungrateful if I did. While I am on board, I will do any duty you please to put me to, for I cannot expect to eat my bread for nothing.”
“And suppose we come to action?”
“There’s the difficulty,” replied I; “against an English ship I never will fight.”
“But if we are opposed to any other nation, and there is a chance of our being overpowered?”
“Why, then, if you are overpowered, as I shall be flung along with the rest, I think I must do all I can to save my own life; but, overpowered or not, I will not fire a shot or draw a cutlass against my own countrymen.”
“Well, I cannot deny but that’s all very fair.”
“I think,” replied I, “it is as much as you can expect; especially as I never will share any prize-money.”
“Well; I will talk to the men, and hear what they say; but, now, answer me one question—Are you not a seaman?”
“I will answer the truth to everything; I am a seaman, and I have commanded a privateer. I have served many years in privateers, and have seen a great deal of hard fighting.”
“So I thought,” replied he; “and now answer me another question,—Was it not you that played that trick to that French privateer captain at Bordeaux?”
“Yes it was,” replied I; “but how came you to know that?”
“Because I was the mate of a merchant vessel that had been captured, and I saw you three or four times as you passed the vessel I was on board of; for, being put in quarantine, we were not sent to prison till the pratique was given. I thought that I knew you again.”
“I have no concealment to make.”
“No: but I will tell you candidly, my men, if they knew all this, would not allow you to leave the vessel. Indeed, you might be captain if you pleased, for I do not suit them. Our captain—for I was his officer—was killed about six months ago; and I really am not fit for the office—I am too tender-hearted.”
“Well; you don’t look so,” replied I, laughing.
“Can’t judge of outsides,” replied he; “but it’s a fact. They say that they will be all condemned if taken, from my not destroying the crews of the vessels we take; that they will be so many witnesses against them; and I cannot make up my mind to cold-blooded murder. I am bad enough; I rob on the high seas; I kill on the high seas—for we must kill when we fight; but I cannot commit deliberate murder either at sea or on shore, and so I tell them. If any one else could navigate the vessel, I should be superseded immediately.”
“I am glad to hear you say what you have, captain; it makes me less dissatisfied at finding myself here. Well; I have said all I can, and I must trust to you to manage with your ship’s company.”
“It will be a difficult job,” said he, musing.
“Tell them,” replied I, “that I was once a captain of a vessel like this (after all, there is not so much difference between a pirate and a privateer as you may think)—and that I will not be under the command of any one.”
“If they hear that, they will give you the command of this vessel.”
“I will refuse to take it; and give my reasons.”
“Well; I’ll tell them that: I leave you to settle with them how you can; but,” added he, in a low tone, “there are some desperate villains among them.”
“That I take for granted,” replied I; “so now I leave you to speak to them.”
Toplift did so. He told them that I was a pirate captain, who had lost his vessel and been thrown on shore, but I refused to join any ship except as captain of her; that I would not serve as first officer, and would obey no one. He told them that he knew me before, and he narrated the business at Bordeaux when I commanded a privateer, extolling me, as I afterwards found, beyond all measure.
The crew, having heard what he had to say, went forward, and, after consultation, came to Toplift and said that I must take the oath.
Toplift replied that he had desired me so to do, and that I had answered that I would not. “But,” said he, “you had better speak to him yourselves. Call all hands aft and hear what he has to say.”
This was done, and I was sent for.
“I have told them what you said, Sir. I don’t know your name.”
“I have no name,” replied I, proudly, “except ‘Captain,’—that’s my name.”
The fact is, Madam, I was determined to carry it out bravely; knowing that it is the best way to deal with such people as I now had in hand.
“Well, then, Captain, I have told the men that you will not take the oath.”
“Take the oath!” replied I, with scorn; “no; I administer the oath to others. I make them take it. I make them swear fidelity to me. Such has been my conduct, and I shall not depart from it.”
“Well, but, Captain Toplift, you don’t mean to say that he is to remain on board with us and not take the oath,” said a surly-looking ruffian. “In spite of you, he shall take the oath, Captain Toplift.”
“Captain Toplift,” said I, calmly, “do you allow one of your crew to use such language as this? Had I been captain of this ship, I would have blown his brains out as he stood. You don’t know how to deal with these rascals. I do.”
Captain Toplift, who appeared much pleased at being supported in this way by me—(strange that a single individual, whom they might have thrown overboard in a minute, should have gained such an ascendency, but so it was)—and who perceived that the men fell back, as if taken by surprise, then said, “Captain, you have taught me a good lesson, which I will take advantage of. Seize that fellow and put him in irons.”
“Hah!” cried the man, seeing that no man touched him; “who is to bell the cat! Hah!” and drew his cutlass.
“I will, then,” said I to Captain Toplift, “if you desire it;” and stepping forward I went up to the man, saying, “Come, come, my good fellow, this won’t do here; I am used to deal with such chaps as you, and I can manage worse than you, a good deal.”
I advanced till I was within the stroke of his cutlass before he was aware of it, and, seizing him by the waist, I threw him flat on his back and put my foot on his neck.
“Now,” cried I, in an authoritative voice, “put this man in irons immediately—refuse who dares. Here, you Sirs, lay hold of this fellow,” continued I, looking to the Portuguese; who accordingly came forward and led him away, assisted by others, who now joined them.
“Are there any more mutineers here?” inquired I; “if so let them step forward.”
No one stirred.
“My lads,” said I, “it is very true that I have refused to take the oath, for the oath is not given to those who command, but to those who obey; but at the same time I am not one to betray you. You know who I am; and is it likely?”
“No, no,” replied the men.
“Sir,” asked one of them, who had been most forward and insolent, “will you be our captain?—say but the word,—you are the sort of man we want.”
“You have a captain already,” replied I, “and in a few weeks I shall command a vessel of my own; I cannot, therefore, accept your offer; but while I am on board I will do all in my power to assist Captain Toplift in any way, and you can desire no more. And now, my men, as an old hand, I have but this advice to give you, which is—to return to your duty; for everything in a vessel of this description depends upon obedience; and to you, Captain Toplift, I have also advice to give, which is—to shoot the first man who behaves as that scoundrel did who is now in irons. Boatswain! Pipe down.”
I hardly knew whether this latter order would be obeyed by the boatswain, or, if obeyed by the boatswain, whether it would be obeyed by the men; but, to my great satisfaction, it was; and the men retired peaceably.
“Well, Captain Toplift,” said I, “I have done you no harm, and myself some good.”
“You have indeed,” replied he; “come down into the cabin.” When we were in the cabin he said, “You have unarmed and subdued the most mutinous rascal in the vessel, and you have strengthened my authority. They fully believe you are what you assert from your behaviour, and I feel, with you at my side, I shall get on better with these fellows than I have done. But now, to keep up the idea, you must, of course, mess in the cabin with me, and I can offer you clothes, not my own, but those of the former captain, which will suit your shape and make.”
I readily agreed with him; and, having equipped myself in the clothes he offered me, which were handsome, I soon afterwards went on deck with him, and received the greatest respect from the men as I passed them. A cot was slung for me in the cabin, and I lived altogether with Captain Toplift, who was a good-hearted, rough sort of a man, certainly wholly unfit for the command of a vessel manned by such a set of miscreants, and employed on such a service. He told me that he had been taken three years before by a pirate vessel, and finding that he could navigate, they had detained him by force, and that at last he had become accustomed to his position.
“We all must live,” said he, “and I had no other means of livelihood left me; but it’s sorely against my conscience, and that’s the truth. However, I am used to it now, and that reconciles you to anything, except murder in cold blood, and that I never will consent to.”
On my inquiring where they were about to cruise, he said, on the Spanish Main.
“But,” said I, “it is peace with the Spaniards just now.”
“I hardly knew,” said he, “it was peace. Not that peace makes any difference to us, for we take everything; but you refer to myself, I know, and I tell you frankly that I have preferred this cruise merely that we may not fall in with English vessels, which we are not likely to do there. I wish I was out of her with all my heart and soul.”
“No doubt of it, Captain Toplift, I think you are sincere. Suppose you put into one of the inlets of Jamaica, they won’t know where we are; let us take a boat on shore and leave her. I will provide for you, and you shall gain your living in an honest way.”
“God bless you, Sir,” said he; “I will try what I can do. We must talk the matter over, for they may suspect something, and then it would be all over with us.”
We continued to run down till we were in the latitude of the Virgin Isles, and then we altered her course for Jamaica. The first and second mates generally received information of Captain Toplift as to his movements and intentions, which they communicated to the crew. If the crew disapproved of them, they said so, and they were considered to have some voice in the matter.
Now, although no navigators, these men knew enough of a chart and a course to find that there must be some reason for its being altered as it was, instead of running down by the Spanish Main, and they inquired why the cruise was altered.
Captain Toplift replied that he had taken my advice, and that I had assured him that at the back of the island of Jamaica we should certainly fall in with some rich Spanish vessels, if we lay there quiet in some nook or another for a short time, as this was their time for coming up from the south to the Havannah, where they rendezvoused for a convoy.
This reply appeared very satisfactory to the crew, for they were all cheerful and obedient, and we ran down to Jamaica, and when we were close in shore we shortened sail and hove-to. We remained three or four days in the offing, that we might not cause any suspicion by our leaving too soon. Captain Toplift then told the mates that I proposed anchoring in some secret bay or inlet, as we were certain to see the Spanish ships if we could send any one ashore on the hills to look out for them. This was agreed to, and we made sail and ran along the coast, looking out for some convenient anchorage.
As we were so doing, a vessel hove in sight, and we immediately made all sail in chase. As she did not attempt to avoid us, we hauled off as she came near, to see what she might be. She then hoisted a yellow flag at her peak (for she was an hermaphrodite brig); this puzzled us not a little, and we edged down towards her, for she was very rakish-looking, except in her sails.
As we neared, finding, I suppose, that we did not answer her signals, and we were not the vessel she expected us to be, she suddenly altered her course before the wind, setting all the sail that she possibly could. We immediately crowded canvass in chase, and came up with her fast. As we ran, the mate and I looked at her through the glass, and I made her out to be the Transcendant, the captain of which had treated us so cruelly when we were in the boat, and who had robbed us of our money and clothes. I called the Portuguese and desired them to look at the vessel through the glass, and give me their opinion. They directly said that it was the vessel I supposed.
“Let us only catch the rascal,” said I, “and we will pay him in his own coin;” and I immediately gave directions for the better trimming of the sails, so anxious was I to come up with him.
The men of the schooner were much pleased at the anxiety I displayed to come up with the chase, and by the alacrity with which they obeyed me I saw how anxious they were that I should be their captain. In two hours we were within gun-shot, and sent one of our bow-chasers after him. Perceiving that it was useless to run, the fellow hove-to, and as we came alongside he was all ready with his boat to come on board. He did so, and at first I kept out of sight to hear what he would say. He was followed up the side by his amiable son. Captain Toplift received him on deck, and he looked around him, saying, “I believe I am right. I was afraid I had made more mistakes than one. I believe you are in the free trade?”
“Yes,” replied Toplift, “we are.”
“Yes, I thought so, captain, but I expected to meet another schooner which is very like to yours, and is also in the trade. I made my signal to her, as, when she has anything to get rid of, why I take it off her hands. Perhaps you may have something of the kind which is not exactly safe to show,—church-plate and the like. I pay ready money—that’s my plan.”
As it afterwards appeared, Madam, this scoundrel had been in the free trade, or pirating, himself for many years, but he had taken an opportunity of walking off with a large sum of money belonging to the pirate crew, and with this money he had purchased his property in Virginia and the brig which he now commanded. Although he did not follow up the free trade any more, he had made arrangements with a pirate captain whom he met at Port Royal to meet them at the back of the island and receive such articles as the pirate might want to turn into cash, by which he, of course, took care to secure large profits.
This he had done several times, and as he sold his cargo at Port Royal for dollars, he had always cash to pay for what the pirate wished to get rid of. But he had now run into the lion’s jaws, for not only were I and the Portuguese on board to denounce him as a robber, but, what was still more unfortunate for him, three of the pirate’s crew, whom had he swindled out of their property, were also on board of us, and recognised him immediately.
As Captain Toplift knew how I had been treated by him, he thought it was time he should be confronted with me, and to his question as to whether there was anything to dispose of, he replied to him, “You must put that question to the captain. There he is.”
The fellow turned to me; he looked at me, stared, and was mute, when his cub of a boy cried out, “As sure as a gun it’s he, father, and no mistake.”
“Oh, you imp of Satan, you know me, do you?” replied I. “Yes, it is he. Send all the men aft.”
The men came fast enough. They were only waiting till I had spoken to them to come and give information against him.
“Now, my lads,” said I, “this is a scoundrel who fell in with some of us when we were in distress, after we had lost our vessel. Instead of behaving as one seaman does to another, he robbed us of all we had, and turned us adrift naked to be killed by the Indians. Of all, I and the two Portuguese you took on board about four months back are the only three left: the others perished. The one who was with me was burnt to death by the Indians, and I narrowly escaped. I leave you to decide what this scoundrel merits.”
“But there is more against him, captain,” said the men, and then four of them stepped out and declared that he had run away with the money belonging to the crew of which they were a part, and that the sum he had stolen amounted to 25,000 dollars.
“What have you to say for yourself?” said I to him.
“That I’ve been a cursed fool to be caught as I have been.”
“What will they do, father?”
“Hang us, I suppose,” replied he.
“Captain Toplift,” said I, “I do not command this vessel, and I shall therefore leave you to decide upon the fate of this miscreant;” and, having said that, I was going below to the cabin, when the captain of the Transcendant’s son ran to me, and said, “I want to speak to you, Sir, when you are alone.”
“What are you after, Peleg?” cried his father.
“I’m going to save your life, father, if I can,” replied he.
“You’ll be clever if you do that, boy,” said the man, sneeringly.
I allowed the boy to follow me down into the cabin, and then asked him what he had to say.
“I have that to tell you which is of more value than the lives of a hundred boys like me.”
“Boys like you? Why I thought it was to save your father’s life that you came down, Sir?”
“Pooh!” said he, “let him hang; he was born for a halter. I am come to save my own life. I only said that to gammon him.”
“You’re a hopeful youth,” said I; “and pray what is that you can tell me that will save your own neck from the halter?”
“That which will save your own, most likely,” replied the boy, “and tit-for-tat’s all fair.”
“Well, let’s hear it then,” replied I.
“No, not unless you promise. I can swing, if need be, as well as father, but I’d rather not, ’cause I know where all his money is hidden.”
“I can’t make any promise,” replied I.
“Then I can’t tell,” replied he, “so I may e’en go on deck and tell father that I cannot manage it;” and as he said the latter part of this speech, the undaunted little villain actually laughed at the idea of gammoning his father, as he termed it.
Train up a child in the way he should go, and he will not depart from it, is mostly true; but it is more certain that if you train a child up in the way that he should not go, he will be a more true disciple. Could there be a more decided proof of the above than the behaviour of this young villain? But his father had made him so, and thus was he rewarded.
“Stop,” said I, for I had reflected whether, after all, there were any grounds for hanging the boy, and come to a conclusion that a jury would have probably acquitted him. “Stop,” said I; “you say that what you can tell is of the greatest consequence.”
“And becomes of more consequence every minute that passes,” replied he. “I will tell you everything, and let you into father’s secrets. I peach upon father altogether.”
“Well, then,” replied I, “if what you have to disclose proves important, I will do all I can to save your life, and I have no doubt that I shall be able so to do.”
“No more have I,” replied he, “or I would not have come to you. Now then, father came to the back of the island to do a little business with a pirate schooner, as he said just now; and he has very often done it before, as he said just now; but father did not tell you all. When we were in Port Royal, father went to the captain of a king’s vessel who is there, having been sent to put down the pirates if possible, and he offered this captain of the king’s ship, for a certain sum, to put our friends that we exchange with into his hands.”
“What, betray his friend the pirate?”
“Yes, father agreed that he would come round as he has done this day, and would contrive to chaffer and bargain with him and keep him so late in the bay that the king’s ship should come upon him all of a sudden and take him, and this was father’s intention, only you have pinned him. The king’s ship will be round that point in two hours or thereabouts, so if you are found here you will be taken and handed as sure as I ain’t hanged yet. Now ain’t this important news, and worth all I asked for it?”
“It certainly is, if it is true, boy.”
“Oh, I’ll prove it, for I always goes with father, and he trusts me with everything. I saw the paper signed. The king’s ship is called the Vestal, and the captain who signed the paper signed it Philip Musgrave.”
“Indeed,” said I, turning away, for I did not wish the boy to perceive my emotion at this announcement. I recovered myself as soon as I could, and said to him, “Boy, I will keep my promise. Do you stay below, and I will go on deck and plead for your life.”
“Mayn’t I go on deck for a bit?” said he.
“What to wish your father good-bye? No, no, you had better spare yourself and him that painful meeting.”
“No, I don’t want to wish him good-bye,—I’ll wait till it’s over, only I never did see a man hanged, and I have a curiosity to have just a peep.”
“Out, you little monster,” cried I, running up on deck, for the information I had received was too important not to be immediately taken advantage of.
“Well, captain, has the boy saved his father’s life?”
“No,” replied I, in a loud voice.
“Then, up he goes,” said the men, for the halter had been round his neck and run out to the yard-arm for some time, and the men had manned the rope, only awaiting my return on deck. In a second, the captain of the Transcendant was swinging in the air, and certainly if ever a scoundrel merited his fate it was that man. Shortly afterwards I turned round, and there was the young hopeful looking at his father’s body swinging to and fro with the motion of the vessel.
I looked in vain for a tear in his eye; there was not a symptom of emotion. Seeing me look sternly at him, he hastened down below again.
“My lads,” said I to the men, who were all on deck, “I have received intelligence of that importance that I recommend that we should cut that vessel adrift, and make sail without a moment’s loss of time.”
“What, not plunder?” cried the men, looking at the Transcendant.
“No, not think of it, if you are wise.”
At this reply all of the men exclaimed that “that would not do”—“that plunder they would”—that “I was not the captain of the vessel,”—and many more expressions, showing how soon a man may lose popularity on board of a pirate vessel.
“I gave my opinion, my men, and if you will hear why I said so—”
“No, no, out boats,” cried they all, and simultaneously ran to lower down the boats, for it was now calm, that they might tow the schooner alongside of the Transcendant.
“You might as well talk to the wind as talk to them when there is plunder to be obtained,” said Toplift to me in a low tone.
“Come down with me,” said I, “and I will tell you what I have heard.”
“Ain’t they going to plunder the brig?” said Master Peleg, when we came down; “I know where father’s dollars are,” and up he ran on deck.
I made a short remark upon the depravity of the boy, and then informed Captain Toplift of what he had told me.
“If you had told them, they would not have paid attention to you. The boat’s crew who came with the captain have told them that there is money on board, and all authority is now at an end.”
“Well,” replied I, “I believe that the boy has told the truth.”
“And what do you mean to do?”
“Remain below quietly, if I am allowed,” replied I.
“But I cannot,” said he; “they would throw me overboard.”
“Make as bad a fight of it as you can,” replied I.
“That I will,” said Captain Toplift, “and with so superior a force opposed, we cannot stand long. But I must tell you where you must be.”
“Where?” replied I.
“At the entrance of the magazine, for as sure as we stand here they will blow up the vessel rather than be taken. Not all of them, but two or three I know are determined so to do, and resolute enough to do it. My pistols are there. You have only to open this door, and you are in the magazine passage. See,” said he, opening the door, “there is the scuttle where they hand the powder up.”
“I will be on the watch, depend upon it; and, Captain Toplift, if the schooner is taken, and I am alive, you may have no fear for yourself.”
“Now let us go on deck again.”
“I will follow you,” replied I.
“I am alone at last, thank Heaven!” said I to myself. “What a position am I in, and how much will be in suspense before twenty-four hours are over! My own brother here, not ten miles perhaps from me, commanding the vessel which will attack this on which I am on board. That they will take us I have no doubt; but what risk do I run—of death by shot, or by their blowing up the vessel in spite of me, or of no quarter being given. Well, I wish it were decided. At all events, I am long supposed dead, and I shall not be recognised among the heaps of the bodies.”
I then went to the locker and took out my duck frock and trousers, determining that I would, if I were killed, be killed in those clothes, and be thrown overboard as a common seaman. I then went on deck, for I heard the grating of the sides of the two vessels, and knew that they were in contact.
All was uproar and confusion on board of the Transcendant, but there was nobody on board the schooner except Toplift and myself. I cannot say that I never saw such a scene, for I had seen quite as bad on board of a privateer. The common seamen, as well as the soldiers, when let loose to plunder, are like maniacs. In half an hour they had broken open everything, cut the crew to pieces, and found out the hoard of dollars, which was shown them by young Peleg, who tried for his share, but for so doing received a chop with a cutlass, which cut off his right ear, and wounded him severely on the shoulder; but his right arm was not disabled, and while the man that out him down was bending over a heap of dollars, which took both hands to lift them, the boy ran his knife deep into the man’s side, who fell mortally wounded. The rush for the dollars thus at the mercy of the rest was so great, that Peleg was not minded, and he crept away and came on board the schooner. We saw that he was bleeding profusely, but we asked no questions, and he went down the ladder forward.
“What has that young villain been after?” said Toplift.
“I presume he has been quarrelling for plunder, and considered that he had a greater right to his father’s money than anybody else.”
