Майн Рид
Ran Away to Sea
Chapter Ten
Of course I did not give utterance to these sentiments before any of the Pandora’s crew. That would have led me into worse trouble than ever. Even Brace could not have protected me had I given expression to the disgust with which my new associates had inspired me, and I acted only with the ordinary instinct of prudence when I held my tongue and pretended not to notice those matters that were queer. Withal, I could not altogether dissemble. My face might have told tales upon me; for more than once I was taken to task by my ruffian companions, who jeered me for my scruples, calling me “green-horn,” “land-lubber,” “son of a gun,” “son of a sea-cook,” and other like contemptuous appellations, of which, among sailors, there is an extensive vocabulary. Had they known the full measure of contempt in which I had held them, they would scarce have been satisfied by giving me nicknames only. I should have had blows along with them; but I took care to hide the dark thoughts that were passing in my bosom.
I was determined, however, to have an explanation with Brace and ask his advice. I knew that I could trust him, but it was a delicate point; and I resolved to approach him with caution. He might be angry with me; for he, too, was engaged in the same nefarious companionship. He might be sensitive and reproach me for a meddler.
And yet I fancied he would not. One or two expressions I had heard him drop casually, had led me to the belief that Brace was tired of the life he was leading – that he, too, was discontented with such a lot; and that some harsh fate had conducted him into it. I hoped that it was so; for I had grown greatly interested in this fine man. I had daily evidence that he was far different from his associates, – not hardened and wicked as they. Though under the influence of association men gradually assume the tone of the majority, yet Brace had a will and a way of his own, – there was a sort of moral idiosyncracy about him that rendered him unlike the rest, and which he appeared to preserve, notwithstanding the constant contamination to which he was exposed by his companionship with such fellows. Observing this, I resolved to make known to him the cause of my wretchedness, and to obtain his advice as to how I should act.
An opportunity soon offered – a chance of conversing with him unheard by the rest of the crew.
There is a pleasant place out upon the bowsprit, particularly when the foretop-mast stay-sail is hauled down, and lying along the spar. There two or three persons may sit or recline upon the canvas, and talk over their secrets without much risk of being overheard. The wind is seldom dead ahead, but the contrary; and the voices are borne forward or far over the sea, instead of being carried back to the ears of the crew. A meditative sailor sometimes seeks this little solitude, and upon emigrant ships, some of the more daring of the deck-passengers often climb up there – for it requires a little boldness to go so high aloft over the water – and pour into one another’s ears the intended programme of their trans-oceanic life.
Brace had a liking for this place; and often about twilight he used to steal up alone, and sit by himself, either to smoke his pipe or give way to meditation.
I wished to be his companion, but at first I did not venture to disturb him, lest he might deem it an intrusion. I took courage after a time, and joined him upon his perch. I saw that he was not dissatisfied – on the contrary, he seemed pleased with my companionship.
One evening I followed him up as usual, resolved to reveal to him the thoughts that were troubling me.
“Ben!” I said, in the familiar style in which all sailors address each other. “Ben!”
“Well, my lad; what be it?”
He saw I had something to communicate, and remained attentively listening.
“What is this ship?” I asked after a pause.
“She a’n’t a ship at all, my boy – she be a barque.”
“But what is she?”
“Why, a’n’t I told you she be a barque.”
“But what sort, I want to know?”
“Why, in course, a regular rigged barque – ye see if she were a ship the mizen-mast yonder ’ud be carryin’ squares’ls aloft, which she don’t do as ye see – therefore she’s a barque and not a ship.”
“But, Ben, I know all that, for you have already explained to me the difference between a ship and a barque. What I wish to ascertain is what kind of a vessel she is?”
“Oh! what kind; that’s what you’re after. Well, then, I should say a faster sailer never set figure-head to the sea; she’s got just one fault, she be a little too crank for my liking, and pitches too much in a swell. If she’s not kept in plenty o’ ballast, I won’t wonder to see them masts walk overboard one of these days.”
“You won’t be offended at me, Ben; all this you’ve told me before – it is not what I wish to know.”
“An what the old scratch do you want to know? Be hanged, my lad, if you don’t puzzle me.”
“Answer me, Ben; tell me the truth. Is she a merchant vessel.”
“Oho! that’s what you’re driving at! Well, that depends upon what you may call a merchant vessel. There be many sorts o’ goods that comes under the name o’ merchandise. Some ships carry one sort, and some another.”
“What sort does the Pandora carry?” asked I, interrupting him.
As I put the question, I laid my hand gently upon the arm of the sailor, and looked earnestly in his face as I awaited his reply.
He hesitated for a moment, until he saw that he could not well evade giving me an answer, and then answered with the simple word – “Niggers.”
“It ’ud be no use playin’ hide and seek about it, lad. You must ’a found it out in time – the Pandora’s no merchantman – she be a trader – a regular slaver.”
“Oh, Ben,” I said, appealingly, “is it not a terrible life to lead?”
“Well, it’s not the life for you, my boy, and I’m sorry you’ve got into such hands. I saw you when you first comed aboard, and would have put a word in your ears, if I had got a chance; but the old shark nailed you afore I could get speaking to you. He wanted a boy and was determined to have you. When you comed the second time, I was below in my bunk, and in course you were brought off with us. No, little Will, it’s not the life for you, lad.”
“And for you, Ben?”
“Avast there, my youngster! Well, I won’t be angry with you, it’s but nat’ral you should think so. Maybe I’m not so bad as you think me.”
“I don’t think you bad, Ben; quite the contrary. It is for that reason I spoke as I did. I think you very different from the others. I – ”
“Maybe you’re right, boy; maybe not. I warn’t always bad. I was once like yourself and didn’t care for such as these; but there are tyrants in the world as makes men bad, and they’ve made me.”
Here the sailor paused and uttered a sigh, while an expression of extreme bitterness passed over his face; some harsh recollection was stirring within him.
“How, Ben?” I ventured to ask. “I cannot believe it. They may have made you unhappy, but not wicked. I know you are not.”
“You are kind, little Will, to say this to me. – You are very kind, my boy; you make me feel as I once did feel, and I’ll tell you all. Listen! and I’ll tell you all about it.”
There was a tear in the sailor’s eye, the first he had shed for many a long year. Upon his weather-bronzed face I observed a mingled expression of tenderness and sadness.
I placed myself to listen attentively.
“It’s a short story,” he continued, “and won’t take many words. I warn’t always what I am now. No, I was a man-o’-war’s-man for many a year, and, though I say it myself, there warn’t many in the service as knew their duty or did it better. But all that went for nothing. It was at Spithead – we were lying there with the fleet, and I chanced to run foul o’ the master’s-mate o’ our ship. It was all about a bit o’ lass that we met ashore, who was my sweetheart. He was a-makin’ too free with her, and my blood got up. I couldn’t help it, and I threatened him – only threatened him. There’s what I got for it. Look there, little Will!”
As the sailor finished speaking, he pulled off his jacket, and raised his shirt over his shoulder. I perceived across his back, and up and down, and in every direction, a complete network of long scars – the scars of old weals – which the “cats” had made upon his flesh.
“Now, my lad, you know why I’m driven to a ship like this. In course I desarted the navy, and afterwards tried it in the merchant-sarvice, but go where I would, I carried the Cain-mark along with me, and somehow or other it always came out, and I couldn’t stand it. Here I’m not the odd sheep in the flock. Among the fellows below there, there’s many a back as well striped as mine.”
Ben ceased speaking, and I, impressed with the brief history of his wrongs, remained for some time silent.
After awhile I again ventured to broach the subject that lay nearest my heart.
“But, Ben,” said I, “this is a horrid kind of life to lead; surely you do not intend to continue it?”
A shake of the head was all the answer I received.
“I could not endure it,” I continued; “I have resolved to make my escape whenever an opportunity offers. Surely you will aid me?”
“Both you and myself, lad.”
“Oh! I am so pleased.”
“Yes,” continued he, “I am tired of it, too. I have been thinking how I can leave it. This I’m determined shall be my last voyage – leastwise, in this trade. I’ve been thinking, my boy, of giving ’em the slip, and taking you along with me.”
“Oh, how glad I shall be – when may we go?”
“There lies the bother, my lad; you see there’s no place in all Africa where we could get off, or, if we did, it would only be to wander among these black savages, and likely enough get murdered by them. No; we can’t get clear of the Pandora this side the Atlantic. We must stick by her, and make the voyage; and on the far side we’ll manage it, I warrant you.”
“’Tis a long time to suffer.”
“You ain’t a-going to suffer – I’ll take care o’ that; but keep quiet, and don’t show that you are not contented enough – not a word to anybody about what’s been said this night, – not a word, my lad!”
I promised faithfully to observe the directions given, and, as Brace was now called to his watch upon deck, I went down along with him, feeling lighter at heart than I had done since I first set foot on board the Pandora.
Chapter Eleven
I need not detail the incidents that occurred during the remainder of our run to the African coast. There is not much variety in a journey upon the sea. A shoal of porpoises, – a whale or two, – some flying-fish, – a few species of sea-birds, – sharks and dolphins, – are nearly all the living creatures that are ever seen, even upon the longest voyages. Most of our course lay due southward, and directly across the northern tropic, and, of course, the weather was hot nearly all the time, – so hot that the pitch oozed out from the seams of the planking, and the soles of our shoes parted with a creaking noise every step we took over the deck.
We were in sight of several sail, – most of them were Indiamen, – some outward bound from England, and some on their way home from the East. A few smaller craft we saw, brigs and a barque or two, and, as they carried English colours, we concluded they were traders to the Cape, or Algoa Bay. None of them, – neither these nor the East Indiamen – seemed desirous of cultivating the Pandora’s acquaintance; and all, in meeting or passing, allowed her a “wide berth.” Of course, the slaver was equally desirous of avoiding them; and, therefore, none of these vessels were “spoken.”
There was one ship, however, that did not appear to shun us. On the contrary, the moment the Pandora came in sight of her the strange vessel changed from the course in which she had been steering, and with all sail set came running towards us. As we were now in the Gulf of Guinea, and about a hundred miles or so from the Gold-coast, the probability was that the vessel that had so boldly headed towards us was a cruiser, and consequently, the very sort of craft that the Pandora’s people did not desire to fall in with. Indeed, this point was soon settled beyond dispute; for the behaviour of the strange vessel, and her peculiar rig – which was that of a cutter – combined with the fact of so small a craft sailing boldly towards a barque so large as the Pandora, all went to prove that she was either a war-cruiser in search of slave-ships, or a pirate, – in either case, a vessel much better manned and armed than the Pandora.
It was hardly probable that the cutter was a pirate; though, had it been upon a different part of the ocean it would have been probable enough, for at that time pirates were by no means as scarce as they are at present. But it was not a favourite locality with pirates. The merchant-craft that traded along this part of the coast were usually small vessels with insignificant cargoes, and, when outward bound, carried only such bulky articles as salt, iron, and rum, with toys and trinkets; which, though sufficiently attractive to the black savages of Dahomey and Ashantee, were not the sort of merchandise that pirates cared to pick up. They were sometimes more richly freighted in their homeward trip, with gold-dust and elephants’ teeth, and pirates could find a market for these. There were still some of these freebooters upon the African coast, for there they could find many a secure rendezvous, but they were never so numerous there as in the West Indies and elsewhere. Had the cutter been met with at an earlier period – that is, while we were further out on the Atlantic, and upon the track of the Cape traders and Indiamen – then the people of the Pandora might have taken her for a pirate, and very probably would have taken less trouble to get out of her way – for these gentry were far less afraid of a pirate than of an honest warship. They knew that the pirates looked upon traders of their kind as kindred spirits – almost birds of the same feather; and that, therefore, they would have but little to fear from their brother outlaws. They knew, moreover, that they had nothing to lose but a few casks of brandy and rum; the iron, salt, and toys which formed the remainder of the Pandora’s cargo, being goods that a pirate would not be bothered with. The brandy and rum would be all he would be likely to rob them of, and of these there were only some half-dozen puncheons – for I had ascertained that most of the great casks in the hold were water-butts filled with water, and of course intended to supply the living cargo on their voyage across the Atlantic.
A pirate, therefore, reasoned the crew of the Pandora, would only rob them of their six puncheons of spirits, and that would be all. Perhaps he might take a fancy to the fine barque, and insist on pressing some of them into his service. That would be a misfortune to the owners; but, as for the crew themselves, I was under the belief that very few of them would have required “pressing.” Most of them would have been willing enough to take a hand at buccaneering, or any other sort of villainy.
As the cutter drew near, however – for she was drawing near – it became evident she was no pirate. Indeed, she made no secret of what she was, for the British flag was run out to her peak, at once proclaiming her a British vessel of war. It is true a pirate might have used that signal for a decoy; but, considering the time and place, it was not likely, and the Pandora’s people did not entertain the thought of its being one. The cutter was a British cruiser beyond doubt. That was their full belief and conviction.
No flag could have been more unwelcome to the eyes of the slaver’s crew than the one now spread to the breeze from the peak of the cutter’s main-sail. Had it been the Portuguese ensign, or the Spanish, or even the French, they would have dreaded it less; for, notwithstanding the promises of these nations to aid in putting a stop to the slave-trade, it is well-known that they have acted with great lukewarmness in the matter. Indeed, worse than that – since the governors of their Transatlantic possessions – even the captains of their ships of war – have been known, not only to connive at the slave-traffic, but actually to assist in carrying it on! Had it been a ship of one of these nations the Pandora would have been less desirous of escaping from her. She would have been brought-to, perhaps; and after a slight examination – with a word or two of secret intelligence between her captain and the commander of the war-vessel – allowed to go about her business; and this would have ended the affair. But no such an easy congé would be given by the commandant of a British cutter; for, to the honour of the British officers be it said, that in all such cases they have performed their duty, and carried out with energy the designs of their government.
The crew of the barque, therefore, on perceiving that it was in reality a British cruiser that was in the wake, were put into the greatest confusion and trouble. I say in the wake, for long since the Pandora had turned stern towards the strange vessel, and was making all sail to escape.
It was evident that the cutter was a fast sailer, and knew it – else she would have used more strategy in making her first approach. On the contrary, she had taken no pains whatever to conceal her character; but, setting her head right for the Pandora, had given chase at once. The barque had been equally prompt in showing her stern; and for some hours a regular tail-on-end run was kept up between the two vessels.
Chapter Twelve
For my part, I awaited the result with the deepest interest. I watched the two ships as they sped; and, with my eye, kept constantly measuring the sea between them. My heart was full of hope, and beat joyfully as I observed that the distance was gradually decreasing, and the cutter each minute seemed larger upon the waves.
There was but one drawback to the exultation which I felt – and that was a serious one. Brace had confessed to me that he was a deserter from the Royal Navy. If taken he might be recognised. The stripes upon his back would lead to suspicion – for there are brands almost peculiar to the navy – proofs of his desertion would be sought – perhaps easily obtained, and then I knew the terrible punishment he would have to undergo. For my own sake I wished the cutter to capture us. For the sake of my friend – the preserver of my life – I wanted the Pandora to escape. I wavered between two hopes – now my own horrid situation was before me – the disgust I felt for the life I was compelled to lead, the hopelessness of getting away from it; and when these thoughts came into my mind I looked with longing eyes towards the pursuer, and wished her nearer and nearer. Then my eyes would rest upon poor Brace, as he hurried over the decks – Using all his efforts to aid the Pandora’s speed – my thoughts would undergo a complete revulsion, and my late hopes would suddenly change into fears. For a long while I awaited the result, with this singular alternation of contradictory emotions.
During all this time there was a stiff breeze blowing, and this it was that gave the cutter the advantage. As already intimated to me by Brace the barque was a “crank” vessel, and carried sail badly under a wind; though, in fair weather, or with a light breeze, she was one of the fastest sailers on the sea. It was for this quality she had been chosen for the peculiar trade in which she was employed – for swiftness, not stowage, are the points of advantage in a slave-ship. The poor negro is usually packed as closely as any other species of merchandise, and a large cargo of them can be stowed in a small space – for it is rare that the slightest consideration of humanity enters the thoughts of their inhuman stevedore.
The barque then had been built for fast sailing – but more especially in light winds, such as those denominated “trade-winds,” and others that are usually encountered between the tropics and the “line.”
The cutter, also, sailed well in a light wind, but equally well in a stiff breeze – when under the stronger impetus of a gale – and as it had now freshened almost to a gale the latter vessel was having the advantage. Even under such a wind she still continued to carry most of her sail – her main and second jibs above being hauled down, along with her gaff-topsail while her storm, spitfire, and third jibs were still kept bent to the breeze.
The barque, on the other hand, had to haul down both royals and topgallant-sails, and close-reef her topsails. She was thus far from going at her fastest, but it blew so freshly it would have been dangerous for her to have spread another inch of canvas, and her people well knew it.
Under these circumstances the cutter was evidently gaining upon her; and if the breeze should continue at the same rate for two hours more the Pandora must certainly be overhauled and captured.
As soon as her crew became convinced of this, they set to work to hide all the implements of their nefarious trade. The manacles and shackles were put into a cask and headed up. The hatch-gratings, which the carpenter had been so long in making, were broken up and disfigured – so that their purpose could not be recognised – and the muskets, pistols, and cutlasses were stowed away in some secret part of the hold. There was no intention of making use of these, and showing fight against such an adversary. Small as was the cutter in comparison with the barque, the crew of the latter knew very well that that of the former would far outnumber them, and that any attempt at resistance to such a well-armed, sharp-toothed little ship of war would only bring her guns upon them, and end the conflict in the loss of at least half their number. They entertained no hope, therefore – except to escape by fast sailing – and as this was now well-nigh given up, they set to work to prepare themselves for passing an examination. Several of the crew actually hid themselves in order to avoid the suspicion which their numbers might create; for, as I had already observed, there were too many hands for a ship engaged in the ordinary way of commerce.
At a last measure the old skipper had got out his “ship’s papers,” which, of course, had been prepared for such an emergency, and which were to show that he was “all right.”
In this way the Pandora now awaited the nearer approach of her hostile pursuer.
The cutter had gained rapidly, and had at length got within less than a mile’s distance, when a gun was fired from her bow-ports that sent the shot ricochetting over the water, and close to the hull of the barque. A signal was also hoisted for the latter to “lay-to.”
My heart beat wildly within my breast. It seemed as if the hour of my deliverance had arrived; and yet I felt a contrary belief – a presentiment that it was not yet to be! Alas! that presentiment proved too true. With all the appearances in favour of our being captured it was not to be. The destiny of the Pandora was different.
Almost as if the firing of the gun had been a signal to the weather, and the wind suddenly began to lull, and at each moment grew lighter and lighter – till it was no longer a gale, but a soft and gentle breeze. The sun, that was now setting, no doubt had caused the change and in a few minutes’ time the sails became relaxed and fell flapping against the yards.
With a quick eye the change was observed by the crew of the Pandora, and the advantage understood. Instead, therefore, of yielding obedience to the signal from the cutter, all hands rushed quickly aloft – the topsails were unreefed to their fullest spread – topgallants and royals were unfurled, and even the studding-sails bent, till the whole rigging of the barque was covered with canvas.
The effect was almost immediately perceptible. Although the cutter now fired her guns as fast as she could load them, I could perceive that she was every moment losing ground, and her shots now fell short of the barque.
In another hour she was miles in our wake; and ere the darkness of night closed over the sea, and hid the little vessel altogether from my sight, I saw, with a sad heart, that she had dwindled to a mere speck upon the edge of the horizon!
