The Pirate Slaver: A Story of the West African Coast

Harry Collingwood

"The Pirate Slaver"

Chapter One.

The Congo River.

“Land ho! broad on the port bow!”

The cry arose from the look-out on the forecastle of her Britannic Majesty’s 18-gun brig Barracouta, on a certain morning near the middle of the month of November, 1840; the vessel then being situated in about latitude 6 degrees 5 minutes south and about 120 east longitude. She was heading to the eastward, close-hauled on the port tack, under every rag that her crew could spread to the light and almost imperceptible draught of warm, damp air that came creeping out from the northward. So light was the breeze that it scarcely wrinkled the glassy smoothness of the long undulations upon which the brig rocked and swayed heavily while her lofty trucks described wide arcs across the paling sky overhead, from which the stars were vanishing one after another before the advance of the pallid dawn. And at every lee roll her canvas flapped with a rattle as of a volley of musketry to the masts, sending down a smart shower from the dew-saturated cloths upon the deck, to fill again with the report of a nine-pounder and a great slatting of sheets and blocks as the ship recovered herself and rolled to windward.

The brig was just two months out from England, from whence she had been dispatched to the West African coast to form a portion of the slave-squadron and to relieve the old Garnet, which, from her phenomenal lack of speed, had proved utterly unsuitable for the service of chasing and capturing the nimble slavers who, despite all our precautions, were still pursuing their cruel and nefarious vocation with unparalleled audacity and success. We had relieved the Garnet, and had looked in at Sierra Leone for the latest news; the result of this visit being that we were now heading in for the mouth of the Congo, which river had been strongly commended to our especial attention by the Governor of the little British colony. Our captain, Commander Henry Stopford, was by no means a communicative man, it being a theory of his that it is a mistake on the part of a chief to confide more to his officers than is absolutely necessary for the efficient and intelligent performance of their duty; hence he had not seen fit to make public the exact particulars of the information thus received. But he had of course made an exception in favour of Mr Young, our popular first luff; and as I—Henry Dugdale, senior mid of the Barracouta—happened to be something of a favourite with the latter, I learned from him, in the course of conversation, some of the circumstances that were actuating our movements. The intelligence, however, was of a very meagre character, and simply amounted to this: That large numbers of African slaves were being continually landed on the Spanish West Indian islands; that two boats with their crews had mysteriously disappeared in the Congo while engaged upon a search of that river for slavers; and that a small felucca named the Wasp—a tender to the British ship-sloop Lapwing—had also disappeared with all hands, some three months previously, after having been seen in pursuit of a large brig that had come out of the river; these circumstances leading to the inference that the Congo was the haunt of a strong gang of daring slavers whose capture must be effected at any cost.

It was for this service that the Barracouta had been selected, she being a brand-new ship especially built for work on the West African coast, and modelled to sail at a high speed upon a light draught of water. She was immensely beamy for her length, and very shallow, drawing only ten feet of water with all her stores and ammunition on board, very heavily sparred—too heavily, some of us thought—and, as for canvas, her topsails had the hoist of those of a frigate of twice her tonnage. She was certainly a beautiful model of a ship—far and away the prettiest that I had ever seen when I first stepped on board her—while her speed, especially in light winds and tolerably smooth water, was such as to fill us all, fore and aft, with the most extravagant hopes of success against the light-heeled slave clippers whose business it was ours to suppress. She was a flush-decked vessel, with high, substantial bulwarks pierced for nine guns of a side, and she mounted fourteen 18-pounder carronades and four long nine-pounders, two forward and two aft, which could be used as bow and stern-chasers respectively, if need were, although we certainly did not anticipate the necessity to employ any of our guns in the latter capacity. Our crew, all told, numbered one hundred and sixty-five.

I was in the first lieutenant’s watch, and happened to be on deck when the look-out reported land upon the morning upon which this story opens. I remember the circumstance as well as though it had occurred but yesterday, and I have only to close my eyes to bring the whole scene up before my mental vision as distinctly as a picture. The brig was, as I have already said, heading to the eastward, close-hauled, on the port tack, under everything that we could set, to her royals; but the wind was so scant that even the light upper sails flapped and rustled monotonously to the sleepy heave and roll of the ship, and it was only by glancing through a port at the small, iridescent air-bubbles that drifted astern at the rate of about a knot and a half in the hour that we were able to detect the fact of our own forward movement at all. We had been on deck just an hour—for two bells had barely been struck—when the first faint suggestion of dawn appeared ahead in the shape of a scarcely-perceptible lightening of the sky along a narrow strip of the eastern horizon, in the midst of which the morning star beamed resplendently, while the air, although still warm, assumed a freshness that, compared with the close, muggy heat of the past night, seemed almost cold, so that involuntarily I drew the lapels of my thin jacket together and buttoned the garment from throat to waist. Quickly, yet by imperceptible gradations, the lightening of the eastern sky spread and strengthened, the soft, velvety, star-lit, blue-black hue paling to an arch of cold, colourless pallor as the dawn asserted itself more emphatically, while the stars dwindled and vanished one by one in the rapidly-growing light. As the pallor of the sky extended itself insidiously north and south along the horizon, a low-lying bank of what at first presented the appearance of dense vapour became visible on the Barracouta’s larboard bow; but presently, when the cold whiteness of the coming day became flushed with a delicate tint of purest, palest primrose, the supposed fog-bank assumed a depth of rich purple hue and a clear-cut sharpness of outline that proclaimed it what it was—land, most unmistakably. The look-out was a smart young fellow, who had already established a reputation for trustworthiness, and he more than half suspected the character of the cloud-like appearance when it first caught his attention; he therefore kept his eye upon it, and was no sooner assured of its nature than he raised the cry of—

“Land ho! broad on the port bow!”

The first luff, who had been for some time meditatively pacing the weather side of the deck from the binnacle to the gangway, with his hands clasped behind his back and his glance directed alternately to the deck at his feet and to the swaying main-royal-mast-head, quickly awoke from his abstraction at the cry from the forecastle, and, springing lightly upon a carronade slide, with one hand grasping the inner edge of the hammock-rail, looked long and steadily in the direction indicated.

“Ay, ay, I see it,” he answered, when after a long, steady look he had satisfied himself of the character of what he gazed upon. “Wheel, there, how’s her head?”

“East-south-east, sir!” answered the helmsman promptly.

The lieutenant shut one eye and, raising his right arm, with the hand held flat and vertically, pointed toward the southern extremity of the distant land, held it there for a moment, and murmured—

“A point and a half—east-half-south, distant—what shall we say—twenty miles? Ay, about that, as nearly as may be. Mr Dugdale, just slip below and let the master know that the land is in sight on the port bow, bearing east-half-south, distant twenty miles.”

I touched my cap and trundled down to the master’s cabin, the door of which was hooked back wide open, permitting the cool, refreshing morning air that came in through the open scuttle free play throughout the full length of the rather circumscribed apartment in which Mr Robert Bates lay snoring anything but melodiously. Entering the cabin, I grasped the worthy man by the shoulder and shook him gently, calling him by name at the same time in subdued tones in order that I might not awake the occupants of the contiguous berths.

“Ay, ay,” was the answer, as the snoring abruptly terminated in a convulsive snort: “Ay, ay. What’s the matter now, youngster? Has the ship tumbled overboard during the night, or has the skipper’s cow gone aloft to roost in the main-top, that you come here disturbing me with your ‘Mr Bates—Mr Bates’?”

“Neither, sir,” answered I, with a low laugh at this specimen of our worthy master’s quaint nautical humour; “but the first lieutenant directed me to let you know that the land is in sight on the port bow, bearing east-half-south, distant twenty miles.”

“What, already?” exclaimed my companion, scrambling out of his cot, still more than half asleep, and landing against me with a force that sent me spinning out through the open doorway to bring up prostrate with a crash in the cabin of the doctor opposite, half stunned by the concussion of my skull against the bulkhead and by the avalanche of ponderous tomes that came crashing down upon me as the worthy medico’s tier of hanging bookshelves yielded and came down by the run at my wild clutch as I stumbled over the ledge of the cabin-door.

“Murther! foire! thieves! it’s sunk, burnt, desthroyed, and kilt intoirely that I am!” roared poor Blake, rudely awakened out of a sound sleep by the crashing fall of his pet volumes upon the deck and by a terrific thwack across the face that I had inadvertently dealt him as I fell. “Fwhat is it that’s happenin’ at all, thin? is it a collision? or is it a case of sthrandin’? or”—he looked over the edge of his cot and saw me sitting upon the deck, ruefully rubbing the back of my head while I vainly struggled to suppress my laughter at the ridiculous contretemps—“oh! so it’s you, thin, is it, Misther Dugdale? Bedad, but you ought to be ashamed of yoursilf to be playin’ these pranks—a lad of your age, that’s hitherto been the patthern of good behaviour! But wait a little, my man—sthop till I tell the first liftinint of your outhrageous conduct—”

By this time I thought that the matter had gone far enough; more over, I had in a measure recovered my scattered senses, so I scrambled to my feet and, as I re-hung the book shelf and replaced the books, hurriedly explained to the good man the nature of the mishap, winding up with a humble apology for having so rudely broken in upon what he was pleased to call his “beauty shlape.” Understanding at once that my involuntary incursion into the privacy of his cabin had been the result of pure accident, “Paddy,” as we irreverently called him—his baptismal name was William—very good-naturedly accepted my explanation and apology, and composed himself to sleep again, whereupon I retreated in good order and re-entered the master’s cabin. The old boy had by this time slipped on his breeches and coat, and was bending over the table with the chart of “Africa—West Coast” spread out thereon, and a pencil and parallel ruler in his hands. He indulged in one or two of the grimly humorous remarks that were characteristic of him in reference to my disturbance of the doctor’s slumbers; and then, pointing to a dot that he had just made upon the chart, observed—

“If the first lieutenant’s bearing and distance are right, that’s where we are, about twelve miles off Shark Point, and therefore in soundings. Did you see the land, Mr Dugdale? What was it like?”

“It made as a long stretch of undulating hills sloping gently down to the horizon at its southernmost extremity, and extending beyond the horizon to the northward,” I replied.

“Ay, ay, that’s right; that’s quite right,” agreed the master. “It is that range of hills stretching along parallel with the coast on the north side of the river, and reaching as far as Kabenda Point,” indicating the markings on the chart as he spoke. “Well, let us go on deck and get a cast of the lead; it is time that we ascertained the exact position of the ship, for the deep-water channel is none too wide, and although there seems to be plenty of water for us over the banks on either side, I have no fancy for trusting to the soundings laid down here on the chart. These African rivers are never to be depended upon, the shoals are constantly shifting, and where you may find water enough to float a line-of-battle ship to-day, you may ground in that same ship’s launch a month hence.”

He rolled up the chart, tucked it under his arm, gathered up his parallel ruler, pencil, and dividers, and together we left the cabin and made our way up the hatchway to the deck, where we found the first luff still perched upon the carronade slide, anxiously scanning the horizon on either bow under the sharp of his hand.

As we reached the deck a spark of golden fire flashed out upon the horizon on our lee bow, and the sun’s disc soared slowly into view, warming the tints of a long, low-lying broken bank of grey cloud that stretched athwart his course into crimson, and fringing its skirts with gold as his first beams shot athwart the heaving water to the ship in a tremulous path of shimmering, dazzling radiance.

The lieutenant caught a glimpse of us out of the corner of his eye as we emerged from the hatchway, and at once stepped down off the slide on to the deck.

“Good-morning, Bates,” said he. “Well, here we are, with the land plainly in view, you see; and I am glad that you have come on deck to tell us just where we are, for all this part of the world is quite new ground to me. We are closer in than I thought we were, for just before the sun rose the horizon ahead cleared, and I caught sight of what looked like the tops of trees, both on the port and on the starboard bow—you can’t see them now for the dazzle, but you will presently, when the sun is a bit higher—and there seemed to be an opening or indentation of some sort between them, which I take to be the mouth of the river.”

“Ay, ay,” answered Bates, “that will be it, no doubt.” He sprang on to the slide that Young had just vacated, took a long look at the land, and then, turning to the helmsman, demanded, “How’s her head?”

“East-south-east, sir,” answered the man for the second time.

With this information the master in his turn took an approximate bearing of the southernmost extremity of the range of hills, after which he stepped down on to the deck again and, going to the capstan, spread out his chart upon the head of it, calling me to help him keep the roll open. The lieutenant followed him, and stood watching as the master again manipulated his parallel ruler and dividers.

“Yes,” remarked Bates, after a few moments’ diligent study, “that’s just about where we are,” pointing to the mark that he had made upon the chart while in his own cabin. “And see,” he continued, glancing out through the nearest lee port, “we have reached the river water; look how brown and thick it is, more like a cup of the captain’s chocolate than good, wholesome salt water. We will try a cast of the lead, Mr Young, if you please, just to make sure; though if we are fair in the channel, as I think we are, we shall get no bottom as yet. Nor shall we make any headway until the wind freshens or the sea-breeze springs up, for we are already within the influence of the outflowing current, and at this season of the year—which is the rainy season—it runs very strongly a little further in.”

The lead was hove, but, as Bates had anticipated, no bottom was found; whereupon the master rolled up his chart again, gave orders that the ship was to be kept going as she was, and returned to his cabin, while the watch mustered their buckets and scrubbing-brushes and proceeded to wash decks and generally make the brig’s toilet for the day.

Our worthy master was right; we did not make a particle of headway until about nine o’clock, when the wind gradually hauled round aft and freshened to a piping breeze before which we boomed along in fine style until we came abreast of a low, narrow point on our port hand, protected from the destructive action of the Atlantic breakers by a shoal extending some three-quarters of a mile to seaward. Abreast of this point we hauled up to the northward and entered a sort of bay about half-a-mile wide, with the low point before-mentioned on our port hand, and a wide mud-bank to starboard, beyond which was an island of considerable extent, fringed with mangroves and covered with thick bush and lofty trees. On the low point on our port hand were two “factories,” or trading establishments, abreast of which were lying two brigs and a barque, one of the brigs flying British and the other Spanish colours, while the barque sported the Dutch ensign at her mizen-peak. We rounded-to just far enough outside these craft to give them a clear berth, and let go our anchor in four fathoms of water.

It was a queer spot that we now found ourselves in; queer to me at least, who was now entering upon my first experience of West African service. We were riding with our head to the north-west under the combined influence of wind and tide together, with the low point—named Banana Peninsula, so the master informed me, though why it should be so named I never could understand, for there was not a single banana-tree upon the whole peninsula, as I subsequently ascertained. Let me see, where was I? I have gone adrift among those non-existent banana-trees. Oh yes, I was going to attempt to make a word-sketch of the scene which surrounded us after we had let go our anchor and furled our canvas. The sea-breeze was piping strong from the westward, while the tide was ebbing down the creek from the northward, and under these combined influences the Barracouta was riding with her head about north-west. Banana Peninsula lay ahead of us, trending away along our larboard beam and slightly away from us to the southward for about half-a-mile, where it terminated in a sandy beach bordered by a broad patch of smooth water, athwart which marched an endless line of mimic breakers from the wall of flashing white surf that thundered upon the outer edge of the protecting shoal three-quarters of a mile to seaward. The point was pretty thickly covered with bush and trees, chiefly cocoa-nut and other palms—except in the immediate vicinity and in front of the two factories, where the soil had been cleared and a sort of rough wharf constructed by driving piles formed of the trunks of trees into the ground and wedging a few slabs of sawn timber in behind them. The point, for a distance of perhaps a mile from its southern extremity, was very narrow—not more than from one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards wide—but beyond that it widened out considerably until it merged in the mainland. On the opposite side of the creek, on our starboard quarter and astern of us, was what I at first took to be a single island, but which I subsequently found to be a group of about a dozen islands, of which the smallest may have been half-a-mile long by about a third of a mile broad, while the largest was some nine or ten miles long by about three miles broad. These islands really constituted the northern bank of the river for a distance some twenty-four miles up the stream, being cut off from the mainland and from each other by narrow canal-like creeks running generally in a direction more or less east and west. The land all about here was low, and to a great extent swampy, the margin of the creeks being lined with mangroves that presented a very curious appearance as they stood up out of the dark, slimy-looking water, their trunks supported upon a network of naked, twisted roots that strongly suggested to me the idea of spiders’ legs swollen and knotted with some hideous, deforming disease. The trees themselves, however, apart from their twisted, gnarled, and knotted roots, presented a very pleasing appearance, for they had just come into full leaf, and their fresh green foliage was deeply grateful to the eye satiated with a long and wearisome repetition of the panorama of unbroken sea and sky. Beyond the belt of mangroves the islands were overgrown with dense bush, interspersed with tall trees, some of which were rich with violet blossoms growing in great drooping clusters, like the flowers of the laburnum; while others were heavily draped with long, trailing sprays of magnificent jasmine, of which there were two kinds, one bearing a pinky flower, and the other a much larger star-like bloom of pure white. The euphorbia, acacia, and baobab or calabash-tree were all in bloom; and here and there, through openings between the trunks of the mangroves, glimpses were caught of rich splashes of deep orange-colour, standing out like flame against the dark background of shadowed foliage, that subsequent investigation proved to be clumps of elegant orchids. It appeared that we had entered the river at precisely the right time of the year to behold it at its brightest and best, for the spring rains had only recently set in, and all Nature was rioting in the refreshment of the welcome moisture and bursting forth into a joyous prodigality of leaf and blossom, of colour and perfume, of life and glad activity. The forest rang with the calls and cries of pairing birds; flocks of parrots, parrakeets, and love-birds were constantly wheeling and darting hither and thither; kingfishers flitted low across the placid water, or watched motionless from some overhanging branch for the passage of their unsuspecting prey; the wydah bird flaunted his gay plumage in the brilliant sunshine, where it could be seen to the fullest advantage; and butterflies, like living gems, flitted happily from flower to flower. Astern of us, some three miles away, lay Boolambemba Point, the southernmost extremity of the group of islands to which I have already alluded, where the embouchure of the river may be said to begin, the stream here being about three and a half miles across, while immediately below it abruptly widens to a breadth of about five and a half miles at the indentation leading to Banana Creek, in the narrow approach to which we were lying at anchor. Of course it was not possible for us to distinguish, from where we were lying, much of the character of the country on the southern or left bank of the river, but it appeared to be pretty much the same as what we saw around us; that is to say, low land densely covered with bush and trees along the river margin, with higher land beyond. About half-a-mile beyond us, broad on our starboard bow as we were then lying, the anchorage narrowed down to a width of less than half-a-mile, the western extremity of the group of islands already referred to there converging toward Banana Peninsula in a low, mangrove-wooded point. Beyond this, however, could be seen a stretch of water about a mile and a half wide, which I subsequently learned ran for several miles up at the back of the islands, between them and the mainland, in the form of a narrow, shallow, canal-like creek that Bates, the master, seemed to think might well repay the trouble of careful inspection, since the narrow maze of channels to which it gave access offered exceptional facilities for the embarkation of slaves, and a choice of routes for the light-draught slavers from their places of concealment into the main channel of the river.

Chapter Two.

We receive some important Intelligence.

We had barely got our canvas furled and the decks cleared when we saw a fine, handsome whale-boat, painted white, with a canvas awning spread over her stern-sheets, and the Portuguese flag fluttering from a little staff at her stern, shove off from the wharf and pull toward us. She was manned by four Krumen, and in the stern-sheets sat a tall, swarthy man, whose white drill suit and white, broad-brimmed Panama hat, swathed with a white puggaree, caused his suntanned face and hands to appear almost as black as the skins of his negro crew. The boat swept up to our gangway in very dashing style, and her owner, ascending the accommodation ladder, stepped in on deck with a genial smile that disclosed a splendid set of brilliantly white teeth beneath his heavy, glossy black moustache.

“Good-morning, sar,” said he to the first lieutenant, who met him at the gangway. “Velcome to Banana,” with a flourish of his hat. “Vat chip dis is, eh?”

“Her Britannic Majesty’s brig Barracouta,” answered Young. “You are the Portuguese consul here, I suppose?”

“No—no; I not de consul,” was the answer. “Dere is no consul at Banana. I am Señor Joaquin Miguel Lobo, Portuguese trader, at your savice, sar; and I have come off to say dat I shall be happie to supply your chip wid anyting dat you may require—vattare, fresh meat, vegetabl’, feesh, no fruit—de fruit not ripe yet; plenty fruit by an’ by, but not ripe yet—parrots, monkeys—all kind of bird and animal, yes; and curiositie—plenty curiositie, sar.”

Here the skipper, who had been below for a few minutes, re-appeared on deck, and, seeing the stranger, advanced toward him, whereupon the first lieutenant introduced Señor Joaquin Miguel Lobo in proper form.

“Glad to see you, señor,” remarked the skipper genially. “Will you step below and take a glass of wine with Lieutenant Young and myself?”

“Ver’ happie, captain, I am sure,” answered the señor with another sweeping bow and flourish of his Panama; and forthwith the trio disappeared down the hatchway, to my unbounded astonishment, for it was not quite like our extremely dignified skipper to be so wonderfully cordial as this to a mere trader.

“Ah, I’m afraid that won’t wash,” remarked Bates, catching the look of astonishment and perplexity on my face as I turned my regards away from the hatchway. “The captain means to pump the Portuguese, if he can, but from the cut of the señor’s jib I fancy there is not much to be got out of him; he looks to be far too wide-awake to let us become as wise as himself. I’ll be bound that he could put us up to many a good wrinkle if he would; but, bless you, youngster, he’s not going to spoil his own trade. He professes to be an honest trader, of course—deals in palm-oil and ivory and what not, of course, and I’ve no doubt he does; but I wouldn’t mind betting a farthing cake that he ships a precious sight more black ivory than white out of this same river. Look at that brig, for instance—the one flying Spanish colours, I mean. Just look at her! Did you ever set your eyes upon a more beautiful hull than that? Look at the sweep of her run; see how it comes curving round to her stern-post in a delivery so clean that it won’t leave a single eddy behind it. No drag there, my boy! And look at her sides: round as an apple—not an inch of straight in them! And do you suppose that a brig with lines like that was built for the purpose of carrying palm-oil? Not she. I should like to have a look at her bows; I’ll be bound they are as keen as a knife—we shall see them by and by, when she swings at the turn of the tide. Yet if that brig were overhauled—as she probably will be—nothing whatever of a suspicious character would be found aboard her, except maybe a whole lot of casks, which they would say was for stowing the palm-oil in. Well, here we are; but we shall have to keep our eyes open night and day to weather upon the rascally slavers; they are as sly as foxes, and always up to some new circumventing trick.”

With which reflection, followed by a deep sigh at the wily genius of the slaving fraternity in general, the worthy master turned upon his heel and retired below.

The Portuguese remained in the cabin for over an hour; and when he came on deck again, accompanied by the captain and the first lieutenant, I thought that the two latter looked decidedly elated, as though, despite the master’s foreboding, they had succeeded in obtaining some important information. The captain was particularly gracious to his visitor, going even to the length of shaking hands with him ere he passed out through the gangway, the first luff of course following suit, as in duty bound.

“Then we may rely upon you to send us off the fresh meat and vegetables early this afternoon?” remarked Young, as he stood at the gangway.

“Yais, yais; dey shall be alongside by t’ree o’clock at de lates’!” answered the Portuguese. “And as soon as you have receive dem you had better veigh and leave de creek. Give dat point”—indicating Boolambemba Point—“a bert’ of a mile and you veel be all right.”

“Yes, thanks, I will remember,” returned the first lieutenant. “And where are we to pick you up?”

“Hus–s–sh! my dear sair; not so loud, if you please,” answered Lobo, hastily leaving his boat and coming half-way up the gangway ladder again. “Dere is a leetl’ creek about two mile pas’ de point, on de nort’ bank of de river. I vill be on de look-out for you dere in a small canoe vid two men dat I can trus’. And you mus’ pick me up queevk, because if eet vas known dat I had consent to pilot you my t’roat would be cut before I vas a mont’ oldaire.”

“Never fear,” answered Young. “We will keep a sharp look-out for you and get you on board without anybody being a penny the wiser. Good-bye.”

The Portuguese bowed with another flourish of his hat, seated himself in the stern-sheets of his boat, gave the word to his Krumen, and a few minutes later was on the wharf, walking toward his factory, into the open door of which he disappeared.

“Come,” thought I, “there is something afoot already. The captain and the first luff have, between them, evidently contrived to worm some intelligence out of the Portuguese. I must go and tell Bates the news.”

Before I could do so, however, the captain, who had been standing near the gangway, listening to what was passing between Young and Lobo, caught sight of me and said—

“Mr Dugdale, be good enough to find Mr Bates, and tell him that I shall feel obliged if he will come to me for a few minutes in my cabin.”

I touched my hat, dived down the hatchway, and gave the message, whereupon the master stepped out of his cabin and made his way aft. He was with the captain nearly half-an-hour; and when he re-appeared he looked as pleased as Punch.

“I’ll never attempt to judge a man’s character by his face again,” he exclaimed, as he caught me by the arm, and walked me along the deck beside him. “Who would have thought that a piratical-looking rascal like that Portuguese would have been friendly disposed towards the representatives of law and order? Yet he has not only given the captain valuable information, but has actually consented to pilot the ship to the spot which is to serve as our base of operations, although, as he says, should the slavers get to know of his having done such a thing, they would cut his throat without hesitation.”

“Yes,” said I, “I heard him make that remark to Mr Young just before shoving off. And pray, Mr Bates—if the question be not indiscreet—what is the nature of the expedition upon which we are to engage this afternoon?”

“Well, I don’t know why I shouldn’t tell you,” answered Bates, a little doubtfully. “Our movements are of course to be conducted with all possible secrecy, but if I tell you I don’t suppose you’ll go ashore and hire the town-crier to make public our intentions; and all hands will have to know—more or less—what we’re after, very soon, so I suppose I shall not be infringing any of the Articles of War if I tell you now; but you needn’t go and publish the news throughout the ship, d’ye see? Let the skipper do that when he thinks fit.”

“Certainly,” I assented. “You may rely implicitly upon my discretion.”

“Oh yes, of course,” retorted the master ironically. “A midshipman is a perfect marvel in the way of prudence and discretion; everybody knows that! However,” he continued, in a much more genial tone, “I will do you the justice to say that you seem to have your ballast pretty well stowed, and that you stand up to your canvas as steadily as any youngster that I’ve ever fallen in with; so I don’t suppose there’ll be very much harm in trusting you. You must know, then, that there’s a bit of a creek, called Chango Creek, some fourteen or fifteen miles up the river from here; and in that creek there is at this moment lying snugly at anchor, quite unconscious of our proximity, and leisurely filling up her complement of blacks, a large Spanish brig called the Mercedes hailing from Havana. She is a notorious slaver, and is strongly suspected of having played the part of pirate more than once, when circumstances were favourable. Moreover, from what our Portuguese friend Lobo says, she was in the river when the Sapphire’s two boats with their crews disappeared; and according to the dates he gives, she must also have been the craft that the plucky little Wasp was in chase of when last seen. There is very little doubt, therefore, that the Mercedes is the craft—or, at all events, one of them—which it is our especial mission to capture at any cost; and we are therefore going to weigh this afternoon for the purpose of beating up her quarters. Lobo has undertaken to pilot us as far as the mouth of the creek; and as he tells us that the brig is fully a hundred tons bigger than ourselves, is armed to the teeth, and is manned by a big crowd of desperadoes, every man of whom has bound himself by a fearful oath never to lay down his arms while the breath remains in his body, I shouldn’t wonder if we find out before all is done that we have undertaken a pretty tough job.”

“It would seem like it, if Señor Lobo’s information is to be relied upon,” said I, an involuntary shudder and qualm thrilling me as my vivid imagination instantly conjured up a vision of the impending conflict. “But I suppose every precaution will be taken to catch the rascals unawares?”

“You may be sure of that,” answered the master, peering curiously into my face as he spoke. “Captain Stopford is not the man to court a reverse, or a heavy loss of life, by unduly advertising his intentions. But you look pale, boy! You are surely not beginning to funk, are you?”

“No,” said I, a little dubiously, “I think not. But this will be my first experience of fighting, you know—I have never been face to face with an enemy thus far—and I must confess that the idea of a hand-to-hand fight—for I suppose it will come to that—a life-and-death struggle, wherein one has not only to incur the awful responsibility of hurling one’s fellow-creatures into eternity, but also to take the fearful risk of being hurled thither one’s self, perhaps without a moment of time in which to breathe a prayer for mercy, is something that I, for one, can hardly contemplate with absolute equanimity.”

“Certainly not,” assented Bates kindly, linking his arm in mine as he spoke; “certainly not; you would be something more or less—less, I should be inclined to say—than human if you could. But, as to the responsibility of hurling those villains into eternity, do not let that trouble you for a single moment, my lad; in endeavouring to put down this inhuman slave-trade we are engaged upon a righteous and lawful task—lawful and righteous in the eyes of God as well as of man, I humbly believe—and if the traffickers in human flesh and human freedom and human happiness choose to risk and lose their lives in the pursuit of their hellish trade, the responsibility must rest with themselves, and in my humble opinion the earth is well rid of such inhuman monsters. And as to the other matter—that of being yourself hurried into eternity unprepared—it need not occur, my boy; no one need die unprepared. What I mean is, of course, that all should take especial care to be prepared for death whenever it may meet us, for we know not what a day, or an hour, or even a moment may bring forth; the man who walks the streets of his native town in fancied security is actually just as liable to be cut off unawares as are we who follow the terrible but necessary profession of arms; the menaces to life ashore are as numerous as they are afloat, or more so; the forms of accident are innumerable. And therefore I say that all should be careful to so conduct themselves that they may be prepared to face death at any moment. And if they are not, they may easily become so; for God’s ear is always open to the cry of His children, and I will take it upon myself to say that no earnest, heartfelt prayer is ever allowed to go unanswered. So, if you have any misgivings about to-night’s work, go to God and ask for His mercy and protection and help; and then, whatever happens, you will be all right.”

So saying, the good old fellow halted just abreast the hatchway, which we had reached at this point in our perambulation fore and aft the deck, and, gently urging me toward it suggestively, released my arm and turned away. I took the hint thus given me and, without a word—for indeed at that moment I was too deeply moved for speech—made my way below to the midshipmen’s berth, which I found opportunely empty, and there cast myself upon my knees and prayed earnestly for some minutes. When I arose from this act of devotion I was once more calm and unperturbed; and from that moment I date a habit of prayer that has been an inexpressible comfort and support to me ever since.

Upon returning to the deck the first object that caught my eyes was our gig, with the first luff and little Pierrepoint—our junior mid but one—in the stern-sheets, pulling toward the very handsome Spanish brig—already spoken of as lying at anchor a short distance inside of us—upon a visit of inspection. That the inspection to which she was subjected was pretty thorough was sufficiently attested by the fact that the gig remained alongside her a full hour, the British brig and the Dutch barque being in their turn afterwards subjected to a similarly severe examination; but, as Bates had predicted, nothing came of it, all their papers being perfectly in order, while a rigorous search failed to discover anything of an incriminating character on board either of them.

“Of course not,” commented the master, when he learned the substance of the first luff’s report to the skipper; “of course not. Bless ye, the people that trade to this river aren’t born fools, not they! Just consider the matter for a moment. Let’s suppose, for argument’s sake, that the Spaniard yonder is a slaver. Would she ship her cargo here in the very spot that would be first visited by every man-o’-war that enters the river? Of course she wouldn’t; she’d go away up the river into one of the many creeks that branch into it on either side for the first twenty miles or so, and ship her blacks there, watching for the chance of a dark night to slip out and get well off the land before daylight. If she came in here at all, it would be to fill up her water and lay in a stock of meal upon which to feed her niggers when she’d got ’em; and you may depend on it that when a slaver comes in here upon any such errand as that, a very bright look-out is kept for cruisers, and that, upon the first sight of a suspicious-looking sail in the offing, her irons, her meal, and everything else that would incriminate her are bundled ashore and hidden away safely among the bushes, while her water would be started and pumped out of her long enough before a man-o’-war could get alongside of her. What is that Spanish brig taking in?” he continued, turning to little Pierrepoint, who, with the first lieutenant, had visited her.

“Nothing,” answered the lad. “She only arrived yesterday; and her hold is half full of casks in which she is going to stow her palm-oil.”

“Of course,” remarked the master sarcastically, turning to me. “What did I say to you this morning? Whenever a ship is found in an African river with a lot of casks aboard, that ship is after palm-oil—at least, so her skipper will tell ye. And that’s where they get to wind’ard of us; for unless they’ve something more incriminating—something pointing more directly to an intention to traffic in slaves—than mere casks, we daren’t touch ’em. But, you mark me, that brig’s here to take off a cargo of blacks; and unless I’m greatly mistaken she’ll have vanished when we turn up here again to-morrow.”

It was just six bells in the afternoon watch when two boats—one containing fresh water in casks, and the other loaded to her gunwale with fresh meat—mostly goat-mutton strongly impregnated with the powerful musky odour of the animal—appeared paddling leisurely off to the Barracouta under the guidance of four powerful but phenomenally lazy Krumen, who would probably have consumed the best part of half-an-hour in the short passage from the wharf to the brig had not our impatient first luff dispatched a boat to tow them alongside. The water was pumped into the tanks, the provisions were passed up the side and stowed away below in the coolest part of the ship; and no sooner were the boats clear of the ship’s side than the boatswain’s whistle shrilled along the deck, followed by the gruff bellow of “All hands unmoor ship!” the messenger was passed, the anchor roused up to the bows, and in a few minutes the Barracouta, under her two topsails, and wafted by a light westerly zephyr, was moving slowly down the narrow channel toward the estuary of the river.

So light was the draught of air that now impelled us, that, although every cloth was quickly spread to woo it, the ship was a full hour and a half reaching as far as Boolambemba Point, where we met the full strength of the river current; and when we bore away on our course up the river, our patience was severely taxed by the discovery that, even with studding-sails set on both sides from the royals down, we could scarcely do more than hold our own against the strong rush of the tide and current together. Slowly, however, and by imperceptible degrees, by hugging the northern shore as closely as we dared, with the lead constantly going, we managed to creep insidiously past the mangrove and densely bush-clad river bank until, just as the sun was dipping into the horizon astern in a brief but indescribably magnificent blaze of purple and scarlet and gold, we reached the place of our rendezvous with Señor Lobo. And soon afterwards we had the satisfaction of discovering that gentleman making his way toward us out of the narrow creek, his conveyance being a small native canoe about fifteen feet long, roughly hewn and hollowed out of a single log, and propelled by two natives, who apparently regarded clothes as an entirely unnecessary superfluity, for they were absolutely naked. They were fine, powerful specimens of negro manhood, however, and smart fellows withal, for they propelled their ungainly little craft along at a truly wonderful pace with scarcely any apparent effort, sheering her alongside the brig in quite respectable style without obliging us to start tack or sheet in order to pick them up, and shinning up the side with the agility of a couple of monkeys as soon as they had securely made fast the rope’s-end that was hove to them.

Our impatience at the slow progress that we had thus far made was somewhat relieved by Lobo’s assurance that we might confidently rely upon a brisk breeze speedily springing up that would carry us to our destination as soon as was at all desirable; his opinion being that our best chance of success lay in the postponement of our attack until about two o’clock in the morning, by which time the moon would have set, and the slaver’s crew would probably be wrapped in their deepest slumber. So far as his prognostication relative to the wind was concerned, it was soon confirmed, a strong breeze from the southward springing up, under the impulsion of which, and with considerably reduced canvas, we reached our destination, so far as the brig was concerned, about five bells in the first watch.

This spot was situated on the northern bank of the river, at a distance, up-stream, of about thirteen miles from Boolambemba Point. It was at the mouth of a creek, named Chango Creek, and in a small bay or roadstead about a mile long by perhaps half that width formed by six islands, the largest of which was nearly two miles long by half-a-mile wide, while the smallest and most easterly of all was a very diminutive affair, of perhaps not more than an acre in area, densely overgrown, like the rest of them, with thick, impenetrable bush. In the very centre of this small roadstead, to which we had been piloted by the Portuguese trader, we anchored the brig in two and a half fathoms of water; when, the canvas having been furled, and all our preparations for the attack having been fully made before dark, a strong anchor-watch was set, and everybody else turned in to get an hour or two’s sleep, strict injunctions being laid upon the master, who had charge of the watch, to keep a bright look-out, and to have all hands called at two bells precisely in the middle watch. As for Lobo, he took leave of us directly that our anchor was down, and, rousing out his sable crew, who were fast asleep and snoring melodiously underneath the long-boat, took to his canoe, once more and almost immediately vanished among the deep black shadows of the islets that hemmed us in.

I know not what were the feelings of others on board the brig on that eventful night, or how those two short hours of inaction were spent in other parts of the ship, but I am convinced that when we all went below to turn in, a very general conviction had spread among us that the enterprise upon which we were shortly to engage was one that would prove to be more than ordinarily difficult and dangerous, and while not one of us probably had a moment’s doubt as to its ultimate result, I believe the feeling was pretty general that the struggle would be fierce and obstinate, and that our loss would probably be unusually heavy. I gathered this from the demeanour of the ship’s crew generally, officers as well as men; the former revealing the feeling by the extreme care with which they scrutinised and personally superintended the several preparations for the expedition, and the latter by the grim and silent earnestness with which they performed their share of the work. True, there was some faint attempt at jocularity among a few of the occupants of the midshipmen’s berth as we sought our hammocks, but it was manifestly braggadocio, utterly lacking the true ring of heartiness that usually characterised such attempts, and it was speedily nipped in the bud by Gowland, the master’s mate, who gruffly recommended the offenders to “say their prayers and then go to sleep, instead of talking nonsense.” Though I was not one of the offenders I took his advice, earnestly commending myself to the mercy and protection of the Almighty, both in the coming conflict and throughout the rest of my life, should it please Him to spare it, after which I sank quickly into a deep, untroubled sleep.

Chapter Three.

The Night Attack.

From this sleep I was aroused—in a few minutes, it seemed to me, although really it was nearly two hours later—by a boisterous banging upon the mess-table, followed by the voice of the marine who executed the functions of steward to the mess, exclaiming—

“‘All hands,’ gentlemen, please! The captain and the first liftenant is already on deck.”

This was followed by the rasping scrape of a lucifer match, by the feeble light of which the man’s face was seen bending over the lantern which he was endeavouring to light.

“Ay, ay, Jerry, look alive with the lantern, man!” responded the master’s mate. “What is the night like?” he continued, as he swung himself out of his hammock and hastily proceeded to thrust his long legs into his breeches.

“Dark as pitch, sir; blowing more than half a gale of wind, and threatening rain,” was the cheering answer.

“A pleasant prospect, truly,” muttered Good, my especial chum, as we jostled each other in the confined space wherein we were struggling into our clothing.

“It might be worse, however,” responded Gowland, as he knotted a black silk handkerchief tightly about his loins. “The darkness and the roar of the wind among the trees will help capitally to mask our approach, while I dare say that the craft which we are going to attack will be in such a snug berth that nobody will think it worth while to keep a look-out, blow high or blow low. I say, Pierrepoint, are you told off for the boats?”

Pierrepoint intimated that he was.

“Then put that rubbishy toasting-fork away and get a cutlass, boy, as Dugdale has. Of what use do you suppose a dirk would be in a hand-to-hand fight with a great burly Spaniard? Why, none at all. I can’t understand, for my part, why such useless tools are supplied for active service! Get a good honest cutlass, boy; something that you can trust your life to. And look sharp about it! Hurry up there, you loafers! Come, Burdett, my boy, stir your stumps if you don’t want a wigging from the first luff! Hillo, Jerry! what’s that, hot coffee? Well done, my man, I’ll owe you a glass of grog for that! Pour it out quickly, and rouse out the bread barge.”

Jerry was a smart fellow and looked after us well, I will say that for him. In less than a minute a cup or pannikin of steaming coffee stood ready for each of us, with the bread barge, well supplied, in the centre of the table.

“There’s no time for eating now, but take my advice and slip a biscuit into your pocket, each of you, to eat as soon as the boats shove off,” advised Gowland. “There is nothing worse for a man, in this climate—or any climate, for the matter of that—than to turn out and go into the open air in the middle of the night upon an empty stomach.” And, suiting the action to the word, he thrust a biscuit into each of his side-pockets, placed a morsel in his mouth, and, with the exclamation, “Well, I’m off!” darted up the ladder and disappeared.

I followed, and, upon reaching the deck, found that all hands were mustered and waiting for inspection previous to being told off to the boats. The skipper was in his cabin, but a few minutes later—by which time all the laggards had put in an appearance—he emerged from the companion-way and the inspection at once began, great attention being given, I noticed, to those who were to go in the boats, to insure that their weapons were in serviceable order, their pistols loaded, and that each man had his due supply of cartridges. The inspection was conducted by the first lieutenant, accompanied by the captain and a sergeant of marines, the latter carrying a lantern, by the rather dim and uncertain light of which the inspection was made. The moment that this was over the men who were to participate in the expedition were told off, each to his proper boat, the boats were lowered and brought to the gangway, and in less than a quarter of an hour from the moment of our being called we were off.

The expedition consisted of four boats; namely, the gig, the pinnace, and the first and second cutters. The gig was a very fine, handsome boat, beautifully modelled, and exceedingly fast; she was commanded by the captain himself, who led the expedition—a sure indication of the important character, in his opinion, of the impending encounter. She pulled six oars, and in addition to the skipper, my chum, Good, and her crew of seamen, carried half-a-dozen marines, four in the stern-sheets, and two forward. The pinnace was a big, roomy, and rather heavy boat, pulling ten oars, double banked, and mounting a nine-pounder gun in her bows. She was commanded by Mr Michael Ryan, the second lieutenant, a rollicking, high-spirited Irishman, whose only fault was that he lacked discretion and was utterly reckless; albeit this fault was to a great extent condoned by the effect of his influence upon the men, who would follow him anywhere. His crew, in addition to the ten oarsmen and a coxswain, consisted of little Pierrepoint and ten marines, six aft and four forward. The first and second cutters were sister boats, precisely alike in every respect, each pulling eight oars, double banked. They were rather smarter boats than the pinnace, being nearly as long but with less beam and freeboard, and finer lines. The first cutter was commanded by Gowland, the master’s mate, and carried, in addition to her crew of ten men and a coxswain, eight marines. The second cutter was entrusted to me, and carried the same complement as her consort, the first cutter. It will thus be seen that the expedition numbered seventy-seven souls in all—nearly the half of our ship’s company, in fact—the brig being left in charge of the first luff, with the master, the purser, the surgeon, young Burdett of the midshipmen’s mess, the cook and his mate, captain’s, gun-room, and wardroom stewards, and seventy-eight seamen.

The weather, although favourable enough for such an expedition as that upon which we were engaged—and which, if our anticipations should prove correct, would depend largely for its success upon our ability to take the enemy completely by surprise—was decidedly disagreeable; for, as Jerry had reported, it was dark as pitch, the wind was sweeping athwart the river in savage gusts that roared among the trees with a volume of sound that rendered it necessary to raise the voice to a loud shout in order to make an order heard from one end of the boat to the other, and we had scarcely left the ship when it came on to rain with a fury that rendered the preservation of our ammunition from damage a serious difficulty and a source of keen anxiety. Fortunately for us, we reached the mouth of the creek a few minutes before the rain began to fall, but for which circumstance we should have met with the utmost difficulty in discovering the entrance, and might possibly have lost a considerable amount of valuable time in the search for it. Even as it was, so intense was the darkness that, although the creek was only some two hundred yards wide, we found it impossible to keep the boats in the centre of the channel, and for a little while were constantly running foul of each other or the banks. Luckily for us, we were no sooner in the creek than its eastern bank afforded us a shelter from the direct violence of the wind, the bush and trees growing so thickly right down to the water’s edge that close inshore we were completely becalmed; and, thus sheltered, our sense of hearing helped us somewhat despite the deep roar of the gale overhead, while we quickly caught the knack of steering along the outer edge of the narrow belt of calm, in this way avoiding to a great extent the difficulties and petty mishaps that had at first so seriously hampered our movements.

In this way, and exposed all the while to the pelting of the heavy tropical downpour, which quickly drenched us to the skin in spite of the protection of our oil-skins, we slowly groped our way along the creek with muffled oars for rather more than an hour, when we unexpectedly found ourselves at the entrance of a fairly spacious lagoon, in the centre of which we speedily made out not one, but four craft moored right athwart the channel, completely barring our further passage. From their disposition it looked very much as though they had been moored with springs upon their cables—for their broadsides were presented fair at us—and, if so, it argued at least a suspicion on their part of a possible visit from an enemy, with doubtless a corresponding amount of precaution against the chance of being surprised.

Scarcely had we made this discovery when the gig, which was leading, found her further progress unexpectedly interrupted by a boom composed of tree-trunks, secured together with chains, stretching right across the water-way. As she struck it a loud cry was heard proceeding from the river bank on our starboard hand, immediately followed by a musket-shot. The next moment a spark of light appeared in the same quarter, quickly increasing in size and intensity until in less than a minute a large fire, evidently caused by the ignition of a very considerable quantity of highly combustible material, was blazing fiercely in the shelter of a thick clump of overhanging bush, that seemed to almost completely shield it from the rain, which, however, had considerably moderated by this time. The dense mass of bush behind and on either side of the blazing mass acted in some sort as a reflector, concentrating the light of the fire upon the boom and our four boats clustered closely together about it, and defining them with very unpleasant distinctness against the background of impenetrable darkness.

That this was so, and that our projected surprise had proved a lamentable failure, was made clear by the sounds of commotion and the sharp cries of command that at once arose on board the slavers, almost instantly followed by a smart and well-directed musketry fire, the bullets from which came dropping about us in very unpleasant proximity, although, fortunately, nobody was actually hit.

“Separate at once!” cried the skipper, rising in the stern-sheets of the gig as he realised that the time for silence and secrecy was past; “separate at once; spread yourselves along the boom, and let each boat’s crew do its best to make a passage through it. Try the effect of a shot from your gun upon it, Mr Ryan. Marines, return the fire of those craft, aiming at the flashes from their pieces. The first boat to force the boom will report the fact to me before passing through.”

We spread well along the boom, maintaining open order, so that we might afford as small a target as possible, and devoted our energies to breaking through the obstruction at points where the trunks were united by chains; but we found this by no means an easy matter, staples being driven home through the links into the tenacious wood so closely together that it was impossible to find a space wide enough to take the loom of an oar—the only lever at hand, as we had not anticipated or provided for such a contingency. Meanwhile, our adversaries proved themselves fully alive to the advantage which our situation afforded them, and fully prepared to make the most of it, for they kept up a brisk though irregular fire of musketry upon us from which we soon began to suffer rather severely, two of my men being hit within the space of as many minutes, while sharp cries of pain to our right and left told us that the occupants of the other boats were receiving their full share of the slavers’ attentions. This was only the beginning of the conflict, however, for before our marines had had time to fire more than thrice in reply to the slavers’ musketry fire, five fierce flashes of flame burst simultaneously from the side of the largest of the four craft, accompanied by the sharp, ringing roar of brass nine-pounder guns, and instantly a perfect storm of grape tore and whistled about our ears, splintering the planking of the boats and bowling over our people right and left. Three more of my men went down before that discharge, and the cries of anguish from the other boats told that they too had suffered nearly or quite as severely. The gig fared worst of all, however, for an entire charge, apparently, plumped right into her bows, where the men were clustered pretty thickly, helping two of their comrades who were kneeling upon the boom endeavouring to tear asunder its fastenings, and no less than six of her crew fell before that withering discharge, including the two men upon the boom, who both fell into the water, and were never seen again.

“By Jove! this will never do,” cried the captain. “Out oars, men, and pull alongside the pinnace!”

This was done; and as the two boats touched, our gallant leader sprang on board the larger of the two, crying to the second lieutenant—

“Here, Mr Ryan, I will change places with you. Take the gig, if you please, and see if you can cast the boom adrift at its shore end; I will look after matters here meanwhile. Mr Gowland, go you to the other end of the boom, and see what you can do there. Now then, lads, what is the best news there with that gun?”

“Just ready, sir,” came the answer. “Poor Jim Baker was struck, and fell athwart the breech, wettin’ the primin’ with his blood just as we was about to fire, so we’ve had to renew it; but we’re ready now, sir.”

“Very well,” cried the skipper. “Bear the boat off from the boom, and fire at the chain-coupling; that ought to do the business for us.”

The order was promptly obeyed, and a few seconds later the gun spoke out, the shot hitting fair and square, and dividing the two parts of the chain that formed the coupling between two contiguous tree-trunks. A loud hurrah proclaimed this result, yet when the pinnace pulled up to the boom again, and tried to force her way through, it was found that the logs could not be forced apart; evidently they were still united under water.

“Load the gun again, lads, as smartly as you can,” exclaimed the skipper; “and then we must try to roll the logs over, and get the chains above water. Well, what news, Mr Gowland?” as the first cutter was seen approaching us.

“It’s no good, sir,” answered Gowland. “We can’t get within twenty yards of dry ground for the mud, which is too stiff to permit of our forcing the boat through it, but not stiff enough to support a man. I made the attempt, and went in up to my arm-pits before they could get hold of me to pull me out.”

Meanwhile, a hot fire of grape and musketry—the latter from all four of the craft—was being maintained upon us; our men were falling fast; and the matter to my mind began to look very serious. Still, those who were not hurt, or whose hurts were not very severe, worked away manfully in an endeavour to break the boom; but it was clear—to me at least—that our only hope lay in the pinnace’s gun. If that failed, it seemed probable that every man of us would be placed hors de combat before we could force a passage through.

Our nine-pounder was soon ready again; and then—Gowland and I having meanwhile stationed our respective boats one on each side of the pinnace, and by the united efforts of our crews succeeded in rolling the logs so far over as to bring the remaining pair of coupling chains out of the water—a second effort was made to divide the boom. The shot was a successful one, both chains being completely cut through. Another ringing cheer proclaimed the good news just as the gig rejoined us with a similar piece of intelligence to that already brought by Gowland, as to the impossibility of landing and getting at the shore-fasts of the boom. That obstacle was now, however, happily severed, and drawing his sword, the skipper waved it over his head as he shouted—

“Out oars, men, and give way for your lives! Follow me, the rest of the boats. We will tackle the big fellow first, and bring the other three to their senses afterwards with the aid of her guns.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when another broadside of grape hurtled in among us, now once more huddled closely together about the breach in that deadly boom, and from the dreadful outcry that immediately arose, the tossing of arms aloft, and the dropping of oars, it was evident that fearful havoc had been wrought by it among our already seriously diminished company. And, to make matters worse, it was instantly followed by a louder, deeper report, and a crash on board the pinnace as an eighteen-pound shot struck her gun fair upon its starboard trunnion, dismounting the piece and sending it overboard, while a shower of splinters of wood and metal flew from the slide, wounding and maiming at least four more men. And then, as though that were not enough, the shot glanced and swept the boat fore and aft, crushing in the side of one poor fellow’s head like an egg-shell, smashing in the ribs of another, and whipping the captain’s sword out of his hand, with all four of his fingers, as it flew over his head into the darkness beyond.

In the teeth of this new disaster the pinnace forced her way through the now divided boom, closely followed by Ryan in the gig, then myself, with Gowland bringing up the rear. “Give way for your lives!” was now the word; and at racing pace—or as near it as we could get with our sadly diminished crews—we headed for the biggest craft of the four, which we now made out to be a large brig, very heavily rigged and with immensely square yards. We opened out a little to port and starboard as we went, in order that we might show as small a mark as possible for our antagonists to fire at, and, having already passed the heavy pinnace, I was fast creeping up into the leading position, when Ryan, who saw what I was after, sheered alongside and in sharp, terse language ordered me to change places with him. Of course I could but obey, and the fiery Irishman, finding himself in the best-manned boat of the lot, speedily passed ahead, despite the utmost efforts of the rest of us to keep pace with him. One more broadside of grape greeted us as we pushed somewhat heavily across the lagoon, and that put the poor unfortunate gig practically out of the combat, for it reduced her oarsmen to two, while she had already been so badly knocked about that it needed the utmost efforts of the least severely wounded of her crew to keep her afloat by baling. We kept on, however, in the wake of the other boats, and had at least a good view of the short, sharp fight that followed. The brig was lying with her starboard broadside presented to us, and as the boats advanced toward her they gradually passed out of the broad line of light cast by the still fiercely blazing fire that had been kindled on the shore. No sooner did this happen, however, than half-a-dozen men provided with port-fires sprang, three into her main and three into her fore port rigging, illumining the brig herself brilliantly, it is true, but at the same time revealing the whereabouts of our boats distinctly enough to enable her people to keep up a most galling pistol and musketry fire upon us, besides giving them the advantage that the light was at their backs, while it shone in the faces of our marines with such dazzling effect that they were able to reply but ineffectively to the fire with their own muskets.

The second lieutenant was first alongside, closely followed by Gowland, the pinnace making a bad third and ranging up under the bows of the brig, while the other boats attempted to board her in the waist. But the brig—and the three schooners as well for that matter—was well protected by boarding nettings triced up fore and aft, and as our men made a dash at her they were met by pikes thrust at them out through the ports, by the snapping of pistols in their faces, and the fierce lunge of cutlasses through the meshes of the netting. Nevertheless they persevered gallantly, hacking away at the netting with their cutlasses, and occasionally delivering a thrust through it at any one who happened to come within arm’s-length of them. But it was clearly a losing game; our losses had been so heavy during our attack upon the boom that we were already far out-numbered by the crew of the brig alone, and they possessed a further important advantage over us in that they fought upon a spacious level deck, while our lads were obliged to cling to the bulwarks as best they could with one hand while they wielded their weapons with the other; moreover, the slavers were able to make a tolerably effective use of their pikes and still keep beyond the reach of our cutlasses.

“If it were not for that diabolical netting,” thought I, “there would be some chance for us still.” And as we ranged laboriously up alongside, my eye travelled up the face of the obstruction to its upper edge, and I saw that it was suspended at four points only, two on the port and two on the starboard side, in the wake of the main and foremasts.

“A sharp knife,” thought I, “ought to divide each of those tricing-lines at a single stroke, when down would go the net upon the defenders’ heads and hamper their movements long enough to give our people a chance.” And then I remembered that only a day or two before I had sharpened my own stout clasp-knife—at that moment hung about my neck on a lanyard—to almost a razor edge, and that consequently I had in my possession just the weapon for the purpose.

As my meditations reached this point the gig touched the brig’s side, and whipping out my knife and opening it, I made one spring from the boat’s gunwale into the netting, up which I at once swarmed with all the agility I could muster—and I was fairly active in those days, let me tell you—a musket-shot knocking my cap off as my head rose above the level of the bulwarks, while a moment later a fellow made a lunge at me with his pike as I skipped up the meshes, and drove its head half through the calf of my left leg. I felt the wound, of course, but was at the moment much too excited and intent upon the task which I had set myself to give it a second thought, and in another instant, so it seemed to me, I had reached the tricing line, which I grasped tightly with one hand while I hacked away vigorously with the other. The rope parted at the third stroke of the knife, and down dropped the net, sagging so much in the wake of the main-rigging that our lads were easily able to surmount the obstacle, and I saw Ryan, with a wild, exultant “Hurroo!” half fall, half leap down to the brig’s deck, where he laid about him so ferociously with fist and cutlass that he at once cleared a space around himself for his followers.

As for me, I was left dangling by one hand at the bare end of the severed tricing line, but within easy reach of the starboard main-topsail sheet, which I promptly grasped and began to lower myself hand over hand down to the deck. Even as I glided down the sheet, I saw that one of our lads had followed my example, and, cutting the fore tricing line, had let the whole of the starboard netting down on deck, while his comrades were pouring in over the bulwarks like an avalanche. The brig’s crew still offered a gallant resistance, but the British blood was by this time fairly at boiling point, and, grimly silent, the blue-jackets laid about them in such terrible earnest with fist and cutlass, belaying-pin, clubbed musket, sponge, rammer, or any other effective weapon that they could lay hands upon, that their rush became irresistible, and their antagonists gave way before them in terror.

At this juncture, and while I was still some twelve or fourteen feet above the deck, I noticed a man, whose dress and appearance suggested to me the idea that he might possibly be the leader of this band of outlaws, quietly separate himself from the combatants, and with a certain sly, secretive manner, as though he were desirous of avoiding observation, slink along the deck to the companion, down which he suddenly vanished. There was an indescribable something about the air and movements of this fellow that powerfully aroused my curiosity and excited an irresistible impulse within me to follow him; and accordingly, swinging myself to the deck abaft the main-mast, which was deserted, the fight still being confined to the waist and forecastle of the brig, I made a dart for the companion, kicked off my shoes before entering, animated by some instinct or idea which I did not stop to analyse at the moment, and drawing my cutlass from its sheath, crept cautiously and noiselessly down the companion-ladder. The moment that I entered the companion-way I was saluted by a whiff of moist, hot air loaded with a powerful, foetid, musky odour, of which I had already become vaguely conscious, accompanied by a deep, murmuring sound that seemed to proceed from the vessel’s hold; and although this was my first experience with slavers, I knew in an instant that the brig had her human cargo on board, and that the sound and the odour proceeded from it.

The companion-way was in complete darkness, but at the foot of the ladder, and to starboard of it, there was a thin, horizontal line of dim light marking the presence of a door that I had heard slam-to as I kicked off my shoes previous to descending. Making for this, I groped for the door-handle, found it, and, grasping it firmly, suddenly turned it and flung the door open. As I did so I found myself standing at the entrance to a fine, roomy cabin, which seemed to be handsomely, nay, luxuriously furnished. It was but dimly illuminated, however, the only light proceeding from an ordinary horn lantern, which, kneeling upon the deck, the man I had followed was holding open with one hand, while with the other he was applying the end of a slender black cord to the flame of the enclosed candle. The other end of the cord referred to led down an open hatchway close to the fore-bulkhead of the cabin; and as I took in the whole scene in a single comprehensive glance—the open hatchway, the black cord, and the dimly-burning lantern—I realised with lightning intuitiveness that every soul on board the brig was tottering upon the very brink of eternity; the reckless villain before me was in the very act of exploding the powder magazine, and blowing the ship and all she contained into the air.

This surmise was confirmed as, turning his head at the sound of the opening door, the fellow withdrew from the lantern the end of the black cord—which was of course a length of fuse composed of spun-yarn well coated with damp powder, now fizzing and spluttering and smoking as the fire swiftly travelled along it. So rapidly did the fire travel indeed, that during the second or so that the desperado paused in surprise at my unexpected appearance, it reached his fingers, causing him to drop it to the deck with a muttered curse. I knew that in twenty or thirty seconds at most that hissing train of fire would run along the guiding line of the fuse down the hatchway to the powder in which the other end of it was certain to be buried; and bounding forward I placed one foot upon the blazing fuse as I dealt a heavy downward stroke with the hilt of my cutlass upon the upturned temple of the man who, crouching before me, was clearly on the point of springing to his feet. Then, dashing down my cutlass as the fellow sank back with a groan upon the deck, I wrenched my still open knife from my neck, and, while the struggling flame scorched and seared the sole of my naked foot, slashed the blade quickly through the fuse, and with the same movement whirled the severed and unlighted part as far away from me as possible. This done, I knew that the danger was past; and, drawing the short burning fragment of fuse from beneath my foot, I carefully deposited it in the lantern, where it instantly flamed itself harmlessly away. My next act was to secure the remainder of the fuse and cautiously withdraw it from the dark hatchway down which it led; and, this safely accomplished, I closed the aperture by drawing over the hatch, and then sat down to nurse my seared and blistered foot and to await the progress of events; my companion or adversary, or whatever he should be rightly called, still lying motionless where he had fallen, with a large blue lump on his white temple from which a thin stream of blood slowly oozed.

During the few brief seconds that had elapsed between my entrance into the cabin and the flinging of myself upon one of its sofas, I had lost all cognisance of what was happening elsewhere; but as I took my scorched foot upon my knee and ruefully contemplated its injuries, I once more became aware of the sounds of conflict on deck; the fierce, confused stamping of many feet; the cries and ejaculations of encouragement or dismay; the quick jar and clash of blade upon blade; the occasional explosion of a pistol; the dull, crushing sound of unwarded blows; the sharp scream of agony as some poor wretch felt the stroke of the merciless steel; the cries and groans of those who had been smitten down, and, still conscious, were being trampled underfoot by the combatants; the deep muttered curse; the sharp word of command; and the occasional cheer that broke from the lips of our own gallant lads. Suddenly there was a louder hurrah, a quick scurrying rush, a loud shout of command in Spanish for every man to save himself, an outcry of terrified ejaculations in the same tongue, a quick succession of splashes in the water alongside, and a sudden silence, broken the next instant by a gasping but triumphant shout from Ryan of—

“Hurroo, bhoys! By the blessed—Saint—Pathrick—but—that’s nately done! Ugh!—pouff!—we’ve—drove them—clane overboard! Murther! but it’s meltin’ I am—and as dhry—as a limekiln!”

Chapter Four.

Chango Creek.

Then I heard the skipper hailing, apparently from the forecastle—

“Is that Mr Ryan’s voice that I hear, aft there?”

“Ay, ay, sorr,” answered the second luff; “it’s myself, bedad, all that’s left ov me!”

A sound of footsteps followed, suggesting that he had walked away forward to join his superior; but as the man at my feet just then stirred uneasily, as though his senses were returning to him, I made a quick grab at my cutlass, and drawing from my belt a loaded pistol, the existence of which I had until then forgotten, I pulled myself together and made ready for the next emergency.

Presently, my prisoner, for such he now was, stirred again, sighed deeply, and opened his eyes, his glance immediately falling upon me. For a few seconds he seemed not to know where he was, or what had happened; then, as we gazed into each other’s eyes, I saw that his memory had returned to him, and as he made a motion to rise to his feet, I sprang to mine, and pointing my pistol straight at his head, said in the best Spanish that I could muster—

“Stay where you are! If you make the slightest attempt to move I will blow your brains out, you villain!”

He continued to gaze steadfastly at me for some moments; and then seeing, I suppose, that I fully meant what I said, he smiled bitterly and muttered—

“So it has come to this, has it, that I must lie here in my own cabin, helpless, at the mercy of a mere boy? Car–r–am–ba!”

He still kept his regards steadfastly fixed upon me; and as I seemed to read in the expression of his eyes a dawning determination to make at least one more effort for freedom, I was not sorry to hear footsteps coming along the deck, and the voices of the skipper and Ryan in earnest conversation.

“We must get a light from somewhere at once, and look to the wounded without a moment’s delay,” said the former. “I fear that our loss has been very serious in this affair. Ah! there is a faint glimmer of light from the skylight yonder; I will go below and see what it is. Meanwhile, Mr Ryan, muster your men, and load the guns, if you can lay your hand upon any ammunition. Those schooners will try to slip away if they can, now that we have got the brig; but I shall not be satisfied unless I can secure the whole of them; we must have something more than we have got already to account satisfactorily for our loss!”

“Niver fear, sorr,” answered the second luff; “they’ll not get away from— By all the powers though, there goes one of thim now!”

And away he dashed forward again, shouting out certain orders to the men, while the skipper, after hesitating for a few seconds, entered the companion and began to descend.

My attention had been somewhat distracted from my prisoner by this brief conversation, a fact which had evidently not passed unnoticed by him, for before I fully realised what was happening, he had in some inexplicable manner sprung to his feet with a single, lightning-like movement, and his hand was already upon my left wrist, when with a quick twist of the arm I managed to get my pistol-barrel pointed at him as I pressed the trigger. There was a bright flash, lighting up the whole cabin as though by a gleam of lightning, and glancing vividly from the rolling eyeballs of my antagonist, a sharp explosion, and the Spaniard went reeling backward with a crash upon one of the sofas as the captain entered the cabin at a bound.

“Hillo!” he exclaimed, as he peered at me in the faint light of the lantern, “who are you, and what is the matter here? Why—bless me!—it is Mr Dugdale, isn’t it? And pray who is that man on the sofa?”

In a few brief words I narrated my

adventure, to which he listened quietly, holding his wounded hand, bound up in a handkerchief, in the other meanwhile; and when I had finished, he glanced at the prostrate figure on the sofa and said, noticing the ghastly paleness of the upturned face, and the lifelessness of the outstretched limbs—

“Well, he looks as though there was not much mischief left in him now, at all events. But it will not do to take any risks; he is evidently a desperate character, or was before you pinked him, so slip up on deck and get a length of line—a bit off one of the topgallant-braces will do if you can’t find anything better—to make him fast with. And call a couple of hands to come below and carry him on deck; it is scarcely safe to leave such a fellow alone in the cabin, even when securely bound.”

I hobbled on deck as well as my burnt foot—which by this time was excruciatingly painful—would permit, and finding a suitable bit of line, and securing the assistance of two of our lads, the slave-captain, as he eventually proved to be, was speedily bound hand and foot, conveyed on deck, and propped up in a reclining position against the bulwarks, well aft out of the way, in such a position as seemed least likely to encourage the bleeding of his wound.

Meanwhile, Ryan, upon leaving the skipper, had rushed forward and hailed the fugitive schooner, in his richest Dublin accent, to heave-to, or he would sink her. To this command, however, whether understood or not, no attention was paid; and before our people, groping about in the thick darkness among the dead and wounded, could lay their hands upon a single cartridge, they had the mortification of seeing her vanish round a bend of the creek on her way seaward, the lieutenant consoling himself with the assurance that she would infallibly be snapped up by the Barracouta, whose slender crew would be certain to be on the alert all through the night. When the skipper and I arrived on deck, after securing our prisoner, Ryan and a few of our lads were busily employed ramming home a charge in the long eighteen mounted upon the brig’s forecastle, a cartridge and shot for which they had stumbled across in their search. The second luff at once began to relate, with many comical expressions of righteous indignation, the particulars of the schooner’s escape; but he had scarcely got well into his narrative when the faint screep of a block-sheave from to windward warned us that another of our slippery neighbours was about to hazard a like experiment. Without waiting for orders, or thinking of what I was doing, forgetting even my injured foot in the excitement of the moment, I sprang upon the rail and hailed in Spanish—

“Hola there, keep all fast on board those schooners, or we will riddle you with grape! And light a lantern each of you and hoist it to your main-mast-head. I warn you that we will stand no nonsense, so if you value your lives you will attempt to play no tricks!”

To this no reply whatever was vouchsafed; and I was about to hail again, when the captain remarked, very quietly—

“May I inquire, Mr Dugdale, what is the nature of the communication—the unauthorised communication—that you have just made to those schooners?”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” answered I, considerably abashed; “I thought I heard a sound just now as though another of the schooners were on the point of attempting to slip away; so I hailed them that if they attempted any such trick we would treat them to a dose of grape. I also ordered them to each hoist a lantern to the mast-head, so that we may see where they are.”

“Very good,” remarked the skipper suavely; “it was quite the proper thing to do. But I do not altogether approve of my young gentlemen taking the initiative in any matter unless they happen to be for the time being in supreme command. When that is not the case I expect them to wait for instructions. And now, be so good as to hail them again, and say that unless those lanterns are displayed within three minutes I will fire into them.”

My second hail proved effective, the two lanterns being in position well within the time specified. Our skipper was, however, very uneasy; and after retiring aft and consulting with Ryan for a few minutes, the second luff and Gowland went away in the first and second cutters with two good strong crews, and boarded the schooners, the slavers—who were evidently on the look-out—shoving off in their own boats and escaping to the shore the moment that they detected what we were after. Both schooners had a cargo of slaves on board, and were of course at once taken possession of, an instant search—prompted by our experience on board the brig—revealing the fact that one of them had been set fire to so effectually that it took the prize-crew fully an hour to extinguish it.

Meanwhile, lamps and lanterns were found on board the brig and lighted, when those of us whose hurts were the least serious set to work to attend to our more unfortunate comrades. Closer investigation now revealed the welcome fact that we had suffered less severely than had been at first anticipated, our killed amounting to five only—although two more died before they could receive proper surgical attention—while, of the wounded, seven had received injuries serious enough to completely disable them, the rest, amounting to no less than twenty-three, suffering from hurts ranging from such an insignificant prod as I had received in the leg, up to a cutlass-stroke that had all but scalped one poor fellow.

At length, just as we had completed the task of getting our worst cases below out of the persistent rain, and making them in a measure comfortable, the wind shifted and subsided to a gentle breeze from the north-eastward, the weather cleared, the rain ceased, and about half-an-hour later the day broke gloriously, and we were able to get a view of our surroundings.

We found ourselves in a nearly circular lagoon or basin, about half-a-mile in diameter, across the centre of which lay moored the brig and the two schooners, with a gap in the line to mark the berth that had been occupied by the third schooner—the craft that had succeeded in effecting her escape. We were completely land-locked, the shores of the creek being low, and for the most part closely fringed with mangroves, behind which rose dense and apparently impenetrable masses of bush, now in full leaf, and thickly overgrown with flowering parasites, the bush being interspersed with trees of several kinds, some of which were very lofty and handsome. At a short distance above where we were lying, there appeared to be another creek—a small affair, not more than a hundred feet wide—branching off from the main channel; and, upon its being pointed out to him, the captain at once hailed the schooner of which the second lieutenant was in possession, directing that the latter should take his boat, with the crew well armed, and make an exploration of the subsidiary and main creeks for a short distance, for the purpose of ascertaining whether, as was exceedingly probable, there was a slave depôt in the neighbourhood. I should greatly have liked to have made one of the party, and indeed asked permission to join it, but my burnt foot was by this time so inflamed and painful that I could not put it to the deck, and Captain Stopford, while expressing his gratification at the zeal manifested by the request, refused, pointing out that, lame as I was, I should not only be useless but an actual encumbrance and embarrassment to the party in the event of resistance being offered to any attempt on their part to land.

In a few minutes Ryan was ready, and the boat shoved off from the schooner, leaving just enough hands to take care of her during the absence of the others. She made straight for the small subsidiary creek, in the first instance, but re-appeared in about a quarter of an hour, when the second luff hailed to say that it was a mere cul de sac, only some half-a-mile long, and with very little water in it, the banks being of soft, black, foetid mud, of a consistency which rendered landing an impossibility. Having communicated this intelligence, the cutter next proceeded up stream and quickly vanished round a bend. She had been out of sight fully half-an-hour, and the captain was just beginning to manifest some anxiety, neither sight nor sound having reached us to indicate her whereabouts, when thin wreaths of light brown smoke appeared rising above the bush and trees about a mile away, the smoke rapidly increasing in density and volume, and darkening in colour, until it became quite apparent that a serious conflagration was raging at no great distance. When the smoke at first appeared, there was some question in the mind of the captain whether it might not be the work of the people who had effected their escape from the craft during the darkness, they having perhaps set fire to the bush in the hope of involving the prizes and ourselves in the ensuing destruction; but a little reflection revealed the unlikelihood of this, the vegetation not only being saturated with the rain that had fallen during the night, but also being so green and full of sap that it would probably prove impossible to fire it. We had just reached this conclusion when Ryan and his party appeared returning, and in a few minutes the cutter ranged up alongside us to enable the second luff to make his report. He stated that he had proceeded about a mile and a half up the creek, the course of which he had found to be very sinuous, when he reached a spot at which the bank on his port hand was clear of bush and trees, with the soil firm enough to admit of a landing being conveniently effected, and as there were signs indicating that the place had been very freely used quite recently, he shoved alongside the bank and stepped ashore. A single glance about him now sufficed to convince him that he had made an important discovery; the grass was much worn, as with the trampling of many feet, and from this well-trodden spot a broad path led into the bush. Leaving two men in the boat; to take care of her, with orders how to proceed in the event of an enemy heaving in sight, Ryan at once led his party along this path, and after traversing it for less than a hundred yards, came upon a large barracoon, very solidly and substantially built, and of dimensions sufficient to accommodate fully a thousand slaves; there were also kitchens for the preparation of the slaves’ food, tanks for the collection of fresh water, several large thatched huts that looked as if they were for the accommodation of the traders, a large store building, and, in short, everything necessary to complete an important slave-trading establishment. It was evident that it had been very hurriedly abandoned only a few hours previously; but a strict and prolonged search failed to reveal the whereabouts of any of its late occupants; Ryan had therefore first emptied the water-tanks, and had then set fire to the whole establishment, remaining until the flames had taken a strong hold upon the several buildings, when he had retired without molestation.

Meanwhile, by the captain’s orders, the hatches had been removed on board the three prizes, and the condition of the unfortunate prisoners looked to. I shall never forget the moment when the first hatch was taken off on board the brig; a thick cloud of steam slowly rose up through the opening, and the foetid, musky odour, of which I have already spoken, at once became so pungent and overpowering that the men who were engaged upon the operation of opening the hatchways were fairly driven away from their work for the moment, and until the strength of the stench had been to some extent ameliorated by the fresh air that immediately poured down into the densely-packed hold. What the relief of that whiff of fresh air must have been to the unhappy blacks can only be faintly imagined; but that it was ineffably grateful to them was evidenced by the deep murmur of delight, and the loud, long-drawn inspiration of the breath that swept from end to end of the hold the moment that the hatch was withdrawn, as well as by the upward glance of gratitude that instantly greeted us from the upturned eyes of those who were placed nearest the hatchway! But what a sight that hold presented when in the course of a few minutes the hatches were all removed, and the blessed light of heaven and the sweet, pure air of the early morning had gained free access to its sweltering occupants, dispersing the poisonous fumes which they had been condemned to breathe from the moment when the approach of our boats had been first notified! I had more than once had the hold of a slaver and the mode of stowing her human cargo described to me, but it was necessary to actually see it before the full horror and misery of the thing could be completely realised. The space between the planking of the slave-deck and the underside of the beams was just three feet, or barely sufficient to allow the unfortunate wretches to sit upright; and in this confined space they were stowed as tightly as herrings in a barrel, seated on their hams, with the feet drawn close up to the body, and the knees clasped by the arms close to the chest. Let anyone try the fatiguing effect of sitting in this constrained attitude for only a single half-hour, and some idea may then be formed of the horrible suffering and misery that the unhappy slaves had to endure cooped up in this fashion for weeks at a stretch, not on a steady, motionless platform, but on the heaving, plunging deck of a ship driven at her utmost speed over a sea that was seldom smooth enough to render the motion imperceptible, and often rough enough to sweep her from stem to stern, and to render the closing of the hatches imperatively necessary to save her from foundering. Add to this the fact that the slaves were packed so tightly together that it was impossible to move, and thus obtain the relief of even a slight change of position; bear in mind that it was equally impossible to cleanse the slave-deck during the entire period of the passage of the ship from port to port; think of the indescribable foulness of the place, the dreadful atmosphere generated by the ever-accumulating filth, and the exhalations from the bodies of four or five hundred human beings wedged together in this confined space; and add to all this the horrors of sea-sickness, and it at once becomes a perfect marvel that a sufficient number remained alive at the end of the passage to render the slave-traffic a remunerative business. It is true that, solely in their own interests, and not in the least from motives of humanity, the slavers exercised a certain amount of care and watchfulness over the health of their captives; that is to say, they allowed one-half to go on deck during meal-times (twice a day), for the double purpose of affording an opportunity for the inspiration of a little fresh air, and at the same time of providing space for the poor wretches below to feed themselves. This, however, was only when the weather and other circumstances were favourable; if the weather was bad, the hatches were put on and kept on until a favourable change occurred; and in the case of a gale, of wind the unhappy slaves have been known to have been kept without food or water for forty-eight hours, or even longer, simply because it was impossible to give them either. Of course in such a case the mortality was simply frightful, it being no uncommon occurrence for a slaver to lose more than half her cargo in a single gale; this loss, be it understood, arising not so much from the want of food as from simple suffocation through long confinement in the dreadful atmosphere of the unventilated hold. And when a slaver happened to be pursued by a man-o’-war, the sufferings of the slaves were almost as bad, for in such a case the crew seldom troubled themselves to attend to the wants of their helpless prisoners, devoting all their thoughts and energies to the task of effecting their own escape. But as I shall have more to say upon this subject further on, I will not enlarge upon it here.

Ryan having rejoined his prize, and there being a nice little easterly breeze blowing, the order was given for all three craft to weigh and proceed down the creek; the captain being rather anxious lest the slavers should return and take us at a disadvantage now that our force was divided. Nothing untoward occurred, however, and in a short time we were all proceeding down the creek, with the second lieutenant in his schooner as pilot.

And here it may be as well to enumerate the few particulars relative to our prizes that the exigencies of the narrative have hitherto not enabled me to give. To begin with the brig: she was, as Lobo had stated, the Mercedes of Havana; a truly beautiful craft, measuring fully five hundred tons, very flat in the floor, and so exceedingly shallow that even in her sea-going trim, with everything on board as when we took her, she only drew a trifle over eight feet of water aft. But what she lacked in depth she more than made up for in beam, her deck being half as spacious again as that of the Barracouta. She was a perfectly lovely model, and sailed like a witch, as we soon discovered. This was not to be wondered at, however, for in addition to the beautiful, easy grace of her flowing lines, her scantling was extraordinarily light—less than half that of the Barracouta—and all her chief fastenings were screws! With so light a scantling she of course worked like a wicker basket in anything of a breeze and seaway, and leaked like a sieve, the latter being of little or no consequence with plenty of negroes to send to the pumps in relays, while the working of her gave her life, and contributed in no small degree toward the extraordinary speed for which she was distinguished. She was armed with eight nine-pounder broadside guns, and a long eighteen mounted upon a pivot on her forecastle; and in the course of our investigations we discovered that her crew had numbered no less than seventy men, of whom fourteen were killed in her defence, and twenty-six too severely wounded to effect their escape. At the moment of her capture five hundred and sixty-four slaves, all males, were confined in her hold. She was thus, in herself, a very valuable prize, and quite worth all the trouble that we had taken to secure her. But in addition to her there were the two schooners, the larger of which, named the Doña Hermosa, was a vessel of close upon one hundred and twenty tons measurement, with nothing very remarkable about her appearance to distinguish her from a perfectly honest trader. Her cargo consisted of exactly three hundred slaves, rather more than half of whom were women and children. She was unarmed save for the few muskets that were found scattered about her decks when our lads boarded and took possession of her. The second schooner, of which Gowland, the master’s mate, had temporary command, was a little beauty. She was named the Felicidad, and hailed from Santiago de Cuba. She was of one hundred and eighteen tons measurement, and in model generally very much resembled the Mercedes though neither quite so shallow nor so beamy in proportion, while her proportionate length was considerably greater; her lines were therefore even more easy and beautiful than those of the larger vessel. She sat very low in the water, and might have been sworn to as a slaver as far away as she could be seen, her raking masts being short and stout, and her yards of enormous proportionate length—her foreyard measuring no less than seventy-eight feet—with a truly astonishing spread of beautifully cut canvas. In light winds and smooth water she developed a speed that was absolutely phenomenal, easily running away from her two consorts on the passage down the creek under her flying jib and main sail only. She was pierced for three guns of a side, and was further fitted with a very ingenious arrangement for mounting a gun on a pivot amidships, and at the same time shifting it a few feet to port or starboard so as to permit of its being fired directly ahead or astern clear of the masts. None of her guns, however, were mounted at the time of her capture, they afterwards being found stowed below at the very bottom of her hold in a space left for them among her water-leaguers, from which they could easily be raised on deck when required. Like her consorts, she had on board a full cargo of slaves—numbering two hundred and forty, of whom about one-fourth were women and children—when captured.

Our passage up the creek having been effected in the intense darkness of an overcast and rainy night, it had of course been quite impossible for us to form any conception of the appearance of our surroundings; but now, in the broad daylight and clear atmosphere of a fresh and brilliant morning, every detail of the scene in the midst of which we found ourselves stood out with the most vivid distinctness, and I was not only astonished but delighted with the singularity and beauty of Nature’s handiwork that everywhere met my eye in this region of tropical luxuriance. The three craft were the only evidences of man’s intrusion upon the scene with which we were confronted; everything else was the work of Nature herself, untrammelled and uninterfered with; and it appeared as though in the riotous delight of her creative powers she had put forth all her energies in the production of strange and curious shapes and bewildering combinations of the richest and most dazzling colours. True, the water of the creek, which in consequence of the sheltering height of the bordering vegetation was glassy smooth, was so fully charged with mud and soil held in suspension that it resembled chocolate rather than water; but its rich brown colour added to rather than detracted from the beauty of the picture, harmonising subtly with the brilliant greens, deep olives, and splendid purples of the foliage, and the dazzling white, yellow, scarlet, crimson, and blue of the trailing blossoms that were reflected from its polished surface, as well as the delicate blue of the sky into which it merged at a short distance from the vessels. Mangroves with their multitudinous and curiously twisted and gnarled roots and delicate grey-green foliage lined the margin of the creek on either hand, and behind them rose tall, feathery clumps of bamboo alternating with impenetrable thickets of bush, the foliage of which was of the most variegated colours and curious forms, beyond which again rose the umbrageous masses of lofty trees, several of which were clothed with blossoms of pure scarlet instead of leaves, while over all trailed the serpentine convolutions of gorgeous flowering creepers. Euphorbias, acacias, baobabs, all were in blossom, and the fresh morning air was laden with delicious and almost overpoweringly fragrant perfume. Wherever a slight break in the continuity of the mangrove belt permitted the river bank itself to be seen, the margin of the water was ablaze with tall orchids, whose eccentricities of form were matched only by their unsurpassable beauty of colouring; and even the tall, luxuriant grasses contributed their quota to the all-pervading loveliness of the scene by the delicate purple tints of their stamens; while the curious, pendent nests of the weaver-bird, hanging here and there from the longer and coarser grass-stalks curving over the water, added a further element of strangeness and singularity to the picture. Brilliant-plumaged birds flashed hither and thither; kingfishers of all sizes perched solemnly upon the roots and overhanging branches of the mangroves, intently watching the surface of the muddy water for the tiny ripple that should betray the presence of their prey, or flitted low athwart the placid, shining surface of the creek; bright-coloured parrots were seen clawing their way about the trunks of the more lofty trees, or winging their flight fussily with loud screams from branch to branch; the cooing of pigeons was heard in every direction; and high overhead, a small black spot against the deep, brilliant blue of the sky, marked the presence of a fishing eagle on the look-out for his breakfast.

In less than half-an-hour we had traversed the distance to the mouth of the creek, just before reaching which we were astonished to discover the Barracouta hard and fast upon a sand-bank that lay just off the entrance, with her topgallant-masts struck, and her remaining boats in the water, apparently engaged in the task of lightening her. The captain looked terribly annoyed, but said nothing until we had rounded the last point and come to an anchor near the spot at which we had left the Barracouta on the previous night, when he ordered the gig to be hauled alongside, and, directing me to accompany him, gave the word for us to pull to the stranded craft.

Chapter Five.

The ‘Felicidad’.

The first lieutenant, looking exceedingly worried and distressed, was at the gangway to meet us.

“Well, Mr Young,” exclaimed the captain as he stepped in on deck, “what is the meaning of this?”

“I wish I could tell you, sir,” answered Young. “There has been foul play of some sort; but who is the guilty party I know no more than you do. As you will remember, it blew very hard last night when you left us; and for some time after you had gone I remained on the forecastle, watching the ship as she rode to her anchor. She strained a little at her cable when the heavier puffs struck her, but by no means to such an extent as to arouse the slightest anxiety; and after I had been watching for fully an hour, finding that the holding ground was good, and that even during the heaviest of the puffs the strain upon the cable was only very moderate, I felt perfectly satisfied as to the safety of the ship, and retired to the quarter-deck, leaving two men on the look-out on the forecastle, two in the waist, and one on either quarter; for although I anticipated no danger, I was fully alive to the responsibility that you had laid upon me in entrusting me with the care of the ship, as well as to the fact that in the event of a chance encounter just hereabout, we were far more likely to meet with an enemy than a friend. The same feeling animated the men too, I am sure, for the look-outs never responded to my hail with more alacrity, or showed themselves more keenly watchful than they did last night; yet I had barely been off the forecastle half-an-hour when we discovered that we were adrift; and before I could let go the second anchor we were hard and fast upon this bank, fore and aft, and that, too, just upon the top of high-water. I of course at once hoisted out our remaining boats, and ran away the stream-anchor to windward; but, working as we were in the dark, it took us a long time to do it; and I then sent down the royal and topgallant—yards and masts. When daylight came I examined the cable, thinking that possibly it might have chafed through on a rock; but to my surprise I found that it had been clean cut at the water’s edge. How it was done, or who did it, is impossible to guess, for although I have very strictly questioned both the forecastle look-outs, they persist in the statement that they saw nothing, and were aware of nothing until the ship was found to be adrift.”

“Well, it is a most extraordinary circumstance,” commented the captain. “Are you quite satisfied that the men remained fully on the alert all the time?”

“Perfectly, sir,” answered the lieutenant. “I hailed them every ten minutes or so, not knowing at what moment some disagreeable surprise might be sprung upon us. Besides, we did not know how you might be faring, and thought it quite possible that the craft you were after might attempt to give you the slip in the darkness. The men on the forecastle were two of the best we have in the ship—William Robinson and Henry Perkins.”

“Yes,” assented the captain; “they have always hitherto seemed thoroughly trustworthy and reliable men. Where are they? I should like to ask them a question or two.”

The two men were summoned, and at once subjected to a very sharp cross-examination, which led to nothing, however, as they both persistently declared that they had neither seen nor heard anything to arouse the slightest suspicion until the discovery was made that the ship was adrift. The captain then went forward and inspected the severed cable; but that revealed nothing beyond the fact that the strands had been cut almost completely through with some very sharp instrument before the stubborn hemp had given way. In short, the whole affair was enshrouded in the deepest mystery. When, however, the captain had heard the whole story, and thoroughly investigated the matter, he freely absolved the first luff from all blame, frankly acknowledging that he did not see what more could have been done to provide for the safety of the ship, and that the thing would undoubtedly have happened just the same had he himself remained on board instead of going away with the boats.

Meanwhile, the dead and wounded had been conveyed from the prizes to the Barracouta, where the doctor immediately took the sufferers in hand, while the slain were stitched up in their hammocks ready for burial. At length it came to my turn to be attended to, and when the doctor saw my foot—now so dreadfully swollen and inflamed that my whole leg was affected, right up to the knee—I was promptly consigned to the sick-bay, with the intimation that I might think myself exceedingly fortunate if in that hot climate mortification did not set in and necessitate the amputation of my leg. I am thankful to say, however, that it did not; and in three weeks I was discharged from the doctor’s care, and once more able to hobble about with the aid of a soft felt slipper. The dead were buried that same forenoon on the point projecting into the river at the junction of the creek with the main stream, the graves being dug in a small space of smooth, grassy lawn beneath the shadow of a magnificent group of fine tall palms.

A hasty breakfast was snatched, as soon as it could be got ready; and then every man available was set to work upon the task of lightening the stranded brig, her guns and such other heavy weights as were most easily accessible being transferred to the prizes, after which the second bower was weighed and run away to windward in the long-boat by means of a kedge; and such was the activity displayed, that at high-water that same afternoon—the tides were fortunately making at the time—the Barracouta floated and was hove off to her anchor. Meanwhile, the missing anchor had been swept for and found, and the severed end of the cable buoyed; before nightfall, therefore, the cable was spliced, and the bonny brig once more riding to her best bower. The men were kept at work until it was too dark to see further; and by six bells in the forenoon watch next day she was again all ataunto, her guns and everything else once more on board her, and the ship herself all ready for sea, it having been ascertained that she had sustained no damage whatever. It may be mentioned that the schooner which had effected her escape from us in the lagoon managed to slip out of the creek and get clear away without being observed by anybody on board the Barracouta; but that of course is easily accounted for by the pitchy darkness of the night, and the fact that she must have passed out of the creek a very short while after the brig had grounded upon the sand-bank, and when of course our lads would be fully occupied in looking after their own craft.

Proper prize-crews were now told off to the three prizes—Ryan being placed in charge of the Mercedes; Gowland, the master’s mate, in charge of the Doña Hermosa; and Good, one of the midshipmen, in charge of the Felicidad—and the order to weigh and proceed in company was given. There was a slashing breeze from the eastward blowing; and this, combined with a strong downward current, carried us along over the ground so smartly that in less than two hours we were abreast of Shark Point, although the Doña Hermosa proved to be such an indifferent sailer that the rest of us had to materially reduce our spread of canvas to avoid running away from her altogether. The Felicidad, on the other hand, sailed like a witch, and kept her station without difficulty, under a single-reefed mainsail, foresail, and inner jib, with all her square canvas stowed. The master informed me that as we passed Banana Point he had remembered to subject the anchorage to a very careful scrutiny through his telescope, and, as he had foretold, the handsome Spanish brig had disappeared, the Englishman and the Dutchman being the only craft still lying off the wharf. Having made an offing of about twenty miles, we hauled up some three points to the northward for Cape Palmas, our destination being of course Sierra Leone.

On the third day out, the captain of the Mercedes—whom I had shot in self-defence in his own cabin, it will be remembered—died of his wound, solemnly declaring with his last breath that he was absolutely innocent of any complicity in the destruction of the Sapphire’s two boats with their crews, or in the disappearance of the Wasp. He admitted that he had heard of both occurrences, and had been told the name of the individual who was said to be responsible for them, but he stubbornly persisted in his refusal to give any information whatever, and carried the secret to his ocean grave with him.

In due time we reached Sierra Leone without mishap and without adventure, after a moderately quick passage; and, our prizes having been taken in flagrante delicto, they were forthwith condemned. At Captain Stopford’s suggestion, however, the Felicidad was purchased into the service, and with all speed fitted to serve as a tender to the Barracouta, her extraordinary speed peculiarly fitting her for such employment, while her exceedingly light draught promised to render her especially useful in the exploration of the various rivers along the coast, many of which are very shallow. We remained in harbour a trifle over three weeks while the necessary alterations were being effected—during which time, owing to the unremitting vigilance and skill of “Paddy” Blake, our doctor, we lost only one man through fever—and then, all being ready, the Felicidad was commissioned, Ryan, our second lieutenant, being given the command of her, with—to my great delight—myself as his chief officer, Pierrepoint and Gowland being our shipmates. We also shipped as surgeon a young fellow named Armstrong, a Scotchman, whom the captain of the Ariadne kindly spared to us with a first-rate recommendation; and in addition we had Warren, the gunner’s mate of the Barracouta, as gunner; Coombs, the carpenter’s mate, as carpenter; and Bartlett, the boatswain’s mate, as boatswain. And by way of a crew, the captain gave us forty of his best men, as he very well could without weakening his own ship’s company, a ship with supernumeraries having most opportunely arrived from home only a few days previously. It will thus be seen that, so far as strength was concerned, we were fairly well able to take care of ourselves. We were expected to do far more than that, however; the captain, when giving us our instructions, hinting that he looked to us to fully justify him by our services for all the trouble that he had taken in causing the schooner to be fitted out. I think, however, that having put such a dashing fellow as Ryan in command, he had very few misgivings upon this point.

The Barracouta and the Felicidad sailed together on the evening of the eighteenth of December, and, the captain having given Ryan a pretty free hand, parted company off the shoals of Saint Ann; the schooner keeping her luff and heading about south-south-west, while the brig bore away on a south-east-by-south course for Cape Palmas; the idea being that we should do better apart than together. We were to cruise for six weeks, and at the end of that time, if unsuccessful, to rendezvous on the parallel of six degrees south latitude and the meridian of twelve degrees east longitude; or, in other words, some eighteen miles off the mouth of the Congo. We were to remain on this spot twenty-four hours; and if at the end of that time the brig had not appeared, we were to proceed on a further cruise of six weeks, and then return to Sierra Leone to replenish our stores and await further orders.

It was a glorious evening when we sailed; a moderate breeze was blowing from the westward, pure, refreshing, and cool compared with the furnace-like atmosphere in which we had been stewing for the previous three weeks. The sky was without a cloud; the sea a delicate blue, necked here and there with miniature foam-caps of purest white; while, broad on our lee quarter, the high land about the settlement of Sierra Leone, just dipping beneath the horizon, glowed rosy red in the light of the sinking sun. It was an evening to make one’s heart rejoice; such an evening as can only be met with in the tropics; and, just starting as we were upon what all hands regarded as a holiday cruise, it is but small wonder that we experienced and enjoyed its exhilarating influence to an almost intoxicating extent. Jocularity and laughter pervaded the little craft from end to end; and throughout the second dog-watch dancing, singing, and skylarking—all, of course, within the limits of proper discipline—were the order of the evening. As the sun disappeared in the west, the full, round orb of the moon floated majestically up over the purple rim of the horizon to leeward; and the swift yet imperceptible change from the golden glory of sunset to the silvery radiance of a clear, moonlit night was a sight of beauty that must be left to the imagination, for no mortal pen could possibly do justice to it.

“Now, Harry, me bhoy,” exclaimed Ryan, speaking in the broad brogue that always sprang to his lips when he was excited or exhilarated, and slapping me upon the back as we emerged from the companion after dinner that evening, and stood for a moment contemplating the glory of the night, “from this moment we’re slavers, we’re pirates, we’re cut-throats of the first wather, to be hail-fellow-well-met with every dirty blagguard that sails the says—until we can get them within rache of these pretty little barkers,” affectionately tapping the breech of one of our long nines as he spoke; “and thin see if we won’t give thim such a surprise as they haven’t met with for manny a day!”

And he quite looked the character, too—for he was of very powerful, athletic build, though not very tall, swarthy in complexion, and burnt as dark as a mulatto by the sun; with a thick, bushy black beard, and a most ferocious-looking moustache that he had been assiduously cultivating ever since he had known that he was to have the command of the schooner—as he stepped out on deck at eight bells on the following morning, attired in white drill jacket and long flowing trousers of the same, girt about the waist with a gaudy silken sash glowing in all the colours of the rainbow, the costume being topped off with a broad-brimmed Panama hat swathed round with a white puggaree. He was indeed the beau-ideal of a dandy pirate skipper, and I was not a very bad imitation of him—barring the whiskers. The only things perhaps that a too captious critic might have objected to were the spotless purity of our clothing, and an utter absence of that ruffianly manner which distinguishes the genuine pirate; but, as Ryan observed, the first of these objections would grow less noticeable with every day that we wore the clothes, while the other was not necessary, or, if it should become so, must be assumed as successfully as our talents in that direction would permit. As for the crew, they had by Ryan’s orders discarded their usual clothing for jumpers and trousers of blue dungaree, with soft felt hats, cloth caps, or knitted worsted nightcaps by way of head-covering, so that, viewed through a telescope, we might present as slovenly and un-man-o’-war-like an appearance as possible. This effect was further heightened by Ryan having very wisely insisted that not a spar or rope of the schooner should be altered or interfered with in any way, saving of course where it needed refitting; those therefore who happened to know the Felicidad would recognise her at once; and it was our business so to conduct ourselves that they should not suspect her change of ownership until too late to effect an escape. Her capture was of course by this time known to many of the craft frequenting the Congo; but that we could not help; our plans were based mostly upon the hope that there were still many who did not know it, and also, to some extent, upon a belief that, even to those who were aware of it, we might by judicious behaviour convey an impression that her people had cleverly effected their own and her escape, and were once more boldly pursuing their lawless trade.

We did not much expect to fall in with anything worthy of our attention until we were pretty close up with the Line; we therefore carried on all through the first night and the whole of the next day, arriving by sunset upon the northern boundary of what we considered our cruising ground proper. And then, as ill-luck would have it, the wind died away, and left us rolling helplessly upon a long, glassy swell, without steerage-way, the schooner’s head boxing the compass. This period of calm lasted all through the night and the whole of the next day, varied only by an occasional cat’s-paw of scarcely sufficient strength or duration to enable us to get the schooner’s jib-boom pointed in the right direction. But this did not trouble Ryan in the least, for, as he reminded me for my consolation, we were now just where we wanted to be, and the first breeze that sprang up might bring with it one of the gentry that we were so anxiously on the look-out for. Meanwhile, he availed himself of the opportunity to prepare a certain piece of apparatus that he had employed his leisure in devising, and which he thought might possibly prove useful on occasion. “I’ve been thinking,” said he to me on the morning after the calm had set in, “that it mayn’t always be convanient for the schooner to go through the wather at her best speed, so I’ve devised a thriflin’ arrangement that’ll modherate her paces widhout annyone out of the craft bein’ anny the wiser.” And therewith he ordered a good stout hawser to be roused up on deck; and from this he had a length of some fifteen fathoms cut off, all along the middle part of which he caused a dozen pigs of ballast to be securely lashed. This done, he ordered the bight, with the pigs attached, to be passed under the ship’s bottom, and the two ends of the hawser to be passed inboard through the port and starboard midship ports and well secured, when we had a drag underneath the schooner that would certainly exercise a very marked effect upon her sailing, without making a sufficient disturbance in the water to reveal the fact that trickery was being resorted to.

Towards the close of the afternoon the aspect of the sky seemed to promise that ere long we might hope for a welcome change of weather; the deep, brilliant blue of the unclouded dome became blurred as though it were gradually being overspread by a thin and semi-transparent curtain of mist, which gradually resolved itself into that streaky, feathery appearance called by seamen “mare’s-tails”; and a bank of horizontal grey cloud gathered in the western quarter, into which the sun at length plunged in a glare of fiery crimson and smoky purple that had all the appearance of a great atmospheric conflagration. A short, steep swell, too, gathered from the westward, causing the inert schooner to roll and wallow until she was shipping water over both gunwales, and her masts were working and grinding so furiously in the partners that we had to lift the coats and drive the wedges home afresh, as well as to get up preventer-backstays and rolling tackles.

“There is a breeze, and a strong one too, behind all this,” remarked Ryan to me, “and it will give us an opportunity to test the little hooker’s mettle. I wish it would come and be done with it, for by the powers I’m gettin’ mighty toired of this stoyle of thing,” as the schooner’s counter squattered down with a thud and a splash into a deep hollow, and then rolled so heavily and so suddenly to starboard that we both gathered way and went with a run into the scuppers just in time to be drenched to the waist by the heavy fall of water that she dished in over her rail. This sort of thing soon gave us a taste of the Felicidad’s quality, for so lightly was she framed that the heavy rolling strained her tremendously, and she began to make so much water that we were obliged to set the pumps going every two hours, while the creaking and complaining of her timbers and bulkheads raised a din that might have been heard half-a-mile away.

“As soon as the breeze comes,” said Ryan, as we descended the companion-ladder to shift into dry clothes, “we will bear up and jog quietly in for Cape Lopez, which will give us a chance of being overhauled by something running in for either the Gaboon or the Ogowé, or of blundherin’ up against something coming out from one or the other of those same rivers. If we don’t fall in with annything by the time that we make the land, we will just stand on and take a look in here and there, beginning with the Ogowé and working our way northward gradually until we’ve thoroughly overhauled the whole of the Bight.”

By the time that we were summoned below to dinner, the sky had become entirely overcast with heavy, black, thunderous-looking clouds that entirely-obscured the stars, and only allowed the light of the moon to sift feebly through; yet there was light enough to enable us to see our way about the deck, or to reveal to a sharp eye a sail as far away as seven or eight miles, had anything been within that distance. As we left the deck a quivering gleam of sheet-lightning flashed up along the western horizon, and Ryan gave Pierrepoint—who was taking the deck for me while I got my dinner—instructions to keep a sharp eye upon the weather, as there was no knowing how it might turn out. While we sat at table the lightning became more vivid and frequent; and after a while the dull, deep rumble of distant thunder was heard. Presently we heard Pierrepoint singing out to one of the boys to jump below and fetch up his oil-skins for him; and a minute or two later the sound of a heavy shower advancing over the water became audible, rapidly increasing in volume until it reached us, when in a moment we were almost deafened by the loud pelting of the rain upon the deck overhead as the overladen clouds discharged their burden with all the fierce vehemence of a truly tropical downpour.

At the first crash of the rain upon the deck Ryan and I both with one accord glanced hastily at the barometer that was hanging suspended in gimbals in the skylight; the mercury had dropped slightly, but not sufficient to arouse any uneasiness, and we therefore went quietly on with our dinner, although Ryan shouted across the table to me—

“When the rain comes before the wind,
Halliards, sheets, and braces mind.”

There was little danger, however, of our being caught unawares, for we had long ago clewed up and hauled down everything, except the boom-foresail and jib, to save the sails from thrashing themselves threadbare with the rolling of the ship; we consequently awaited the development of events with perfect equanimity. The downpour lasted perhaps three minutes, and then ceased with startling abruptness, leaving us in absolute silence save for the rush and splash of the water athwart the flooded decks with the now greatly diminished rolling of the schooner, the gurgle of the spouting scuppers, the kicking of the rudder upon its gudgeons, the groaning and complaining of the timbers, or the voices of the people on deck, and the soft patter of their bare feet upon the wet planks as they moved here and there. The shower had knocked the swell down very considerably, rendering the movements of the schooner much more easy than they had been, and we were able to finish our meal in peace and comfort without the continued necessity to steady the plate with one hand and the tumbler with the other, keeping a wary eye upon the viands meanwhile, in readiness to dodge any of them that might happen to fetch away in our direction, and snatching a mouthful or a sip in the brief intervals when the ship became comparatively steady.

When we again went on deck the sky presented a really magnificent spectacle, the vast masses of heavy, electrically-charged cloud being piled one above the other in a fashion that resembled, to me, nothing so much as a chaos of titanic rocks of every conceivable shape and colour, the forms and hues of the clouds being rendered distinctly visible by the incessant play of the sheet-lightning among their masses. Not only the whole sky, but the entire atmosphere seemed to be a-quiver with the silent electric discharges, and the effect was indescribably beautiful as the quick, tremulous flashes blazed out, now here, now there, strongly illumining one portion of the piled-up masses and the reflection in the glassy water with its transient radiance, while the rest of the scene was by contrast thrown into the deepest, blackest, most opaque shadow. Meanwhile the mutterings of the distant thunder had gradually grown louder and drawn nearer, while sudden, vivid flashes of forked or chain-lightning, golden, violet, or delicate rose-tinted, darted at ever-lessening intervals from the lowering masses of intensely black cloud heaped up along the western horizon.

We had been on deck perhaps half-an-hour, when a delicious coolness and freshness began by almost insensible degrees to pervade the hitherto intolerable closeness of the hot and enervating atmosphere, and, looking away to the westward, we saw, by the quick, flickering illumination of the lightning, a few transient cat’s-paws playing here and there upon the surface of the water. Gradually and erratically these evanescent movements in the inert air stole down to the schooner, lightly rippling the water round her for an instant, just stirring the canvas with a faint rustle for a moment, and then dying away again. They were succeeded by others, however, with rapidly increasing frequency, and presently a faint blurr upon the glassy surface of the water to the westward marked the approach of the true breeze.

“Sheet home your topsail, and hoist away!” shouted Ryan. “Up with your helm, my man”—to the man at the tiller—“and let her go off east-south-east. Sheet home your topgallant-sail, and man the halliards. Lay aft here, some of you, to the braces, and lay the yards square. Well there, belay! Main throat and peak-halliards hoist away. Ease off the mainsheet. Rouse up the squaresail, Mr Dugdale, and set it, if you please. Well there with the throat-halliards; well with the peak; belay! Away aloft, one hand, and loose the gaff-topsail! Give her everything but the studding-sails while you are about it, Mr Dugdale; it will save the canvas from mildew if it does little else.”

The breeze—a light air from about west—had by this time crept up to us, and under its vivifying influence the schooner had gathered way, and was soon creeping along at a speed of barely two and a half knots, which, however, rose to three and finally to five as the wind freshened, the sky meanwhile clearing as the heavy thunder-clouds drove away to leeward before the welcome breeze, until the sky was once more cloudless save for the mare’s-tails that thickly overspread the blue, through which the stars blinked dimly, and the moon, with a big halo round her, poured her chastened radiance.

“By the powers,” exclaimed Ryan, as we paced the deck together after the operation of making sail had been completed—“By the powers, but that dhrag of mine is a wondherful invention entirely! Do ye notice, Harry, me bhoy, how it’s modherated the little huzzy’s paces? Bedad, she’s goin’ along as sober as a Quaker girl to meetin’ instead of waltzin’ away like a ballet-dancer! But wait until one of those light-heeled picaroons comes along, and then won’t we surprise thim above a bit! If it’s not blowing too hard when ye come on deck in the middle watch ye may give her the stunsails; it’ll look more ship-shape, and as if we were in a hurry to make the coast and get our cargo aboard, if we happen to be overhauled by anybody in the same line of business, and the deuce of a fear have I now of outsailing any of them that may happen to be in the neighbourhood. Keep a sharp look-out, Mr Pierrepoint, and if anything heaves in sight, either ahead or astern, during your watch, give me a call. I’m going below to turn in now.”

I followed suit a minute or two later and, with my cabin-door wide open to freely admit the cool, welcome breeze that poured down through the open skylight, soon fell into a deep, refreshing sleep.

Chapter Six.

A Capture and a Chase.

When I went on deck at midnight I found that there was no occasion to set the studding-sails, for the breeze had freshened to more than half a gale, and the little hooker was staggering along before it and a fast-rising sea at a tremendous pace—considering the drag—with her royal clewed up and furled, and the gaff-topsail hauled down. Even thus she was being greatly over-driven; so, as there was no need for too much hurry, and as the sky astern had a hard, windy look, I took in the topgallant-sail, and hauled down and stowed the mainsail, letting her go along easily and comfortably for the remainder of the night. I had half a mind to further relieve her by getting the drag inboard, but did not like to do so without first consulting Ryan—since the thing was of his contrivance—so, as the matter was by no means sufficiently urgent to justify me in disturbing him, I let it remain, and very glad was I afterwards that I had done so; for when I went on deck again at seven bells, there, away about a point on our weather quarter, gleamed in the bright morning sunshine the white upper sails of a large craft that had been sighted at daybreak and that was now coming up to us fast. Ryan was already on deck, having been called immediately that the stranger was made out, and was in a state of high glee at the success of his stratagem, for he informed me that he had been up on the topsail-yard, and had pretty well satisfied himself, both by the look of the craft and the course she was steering, that she was a slaver running in upon the coast to pick up a cargo.

It now became a nice question with us whether we should reveal our true character as soon as the stranger should have approached within reach of our guns, or whether we should try to follow her in, and, lying in wait for her, seize her as she came out with her cargo on board. We were still at a considerable distance from the coast—some twelve hundred miles—and that fact inclined us strongly to make short work of her by showing our colours and bringing her to as soon as she should come abreast of us; while, on the other hand, there was the chance that by following her in we might fall in with something more valuable than herself.

We were still weighing the pros and the cons of this important question, when the look-out aloft—for Ryan had only half-an-hour previously determined to have a look-out maintained from the topgallant-yard between the hours of sunrise and sunset—the look-out, I say, reported a sail broad on our starboard bow, standing to the northward on a taut bowline, and under a heavy press of sail. She was as yet invisible from the deck; my superior officer and I therefore with one accord made a dash for our telescopes, and, having secured them, hastened forward and made our way up the fore-rigging to the topsail-yard, on to which we swung ourselves at the same moment. From this elevated view-point the upper half of the stranger’s topmasts and all above were just visible clear of the horizon; and, bringing our glasses to bear upon her, we made her out to be a barque-rigged vessel under single-reefed topsails, courses, jib, fore and main-topmast-staysails, and spanker; her yards, which were pretty nearly square on to us, showed a quite unusual amount of spread for a merchant vessel, and the rapidity with which she altered her bearings and forged athwart our forefoot was conclusive evidence that she was a remarkably speedy craft. For a moment it occurred to us that she might possibly be a cruiser belonging to one or another of the nations who had undertaken to share with Great Britain the noble task of suppressing the inhuman slave-traffic; but a very little reflection sufficed to disabuse our minds of this idea, for no cruiser would have been carrying so heavy a press of canvas as she was showing, in the teeth of what had by this time become almost a gale, unless she were in chase of something, and, had she been, we must have seen it. Besides, although everything looked trim and ship-shape enough so far as her spars, sails, and rigging were concerned, there were evidences even there of a certain lack of discipline and order that would hardly have been tolerated on board a man-o’-war of any nation, although most of the foreigners were a great deal more free and easy in that respect than ourselves. The conclusion at which we ultimately arrived, therefore, was that she was a slaver with her cargo on board, and “carrying-on” to make a quick passage.

But, fast as she was travelling, we were going through the water still faster, despite our drag, for we were carrying the wind almost square over our taffrail, and Ryan, in order the more thoroughly to hoodwink the craft astern, had double-reefed and set our big mainsail, as though we had been somewhat suspicious of her character, and anxious to keep her at as great a distance as possible; we were therefore foaming along at a speed of fully eight knots, and rising the stranger ahead so rapidly, that when she crossed our hawse she was not more than eight miles distant, and we had a clear view of her from our topsail-yard. She now hoisted Spanish colours; and we, not to be outdone in politeness, did the same, as also did the craft astern of us, each of us, I suppose, accepting the exhibition of bunting on board the others for just what it was worth.

Ryan and I had by this time pretty well made up our minds as to the character of both our neighbours; and as the stranger astern—a large brig—was now barely half-a-mile distant from us, and drawing rapidly up on our starboard quarter, it was necessary to make up our minds without delay as to the course to be pursued; the question being whether we should meddle at all with the brig, and thus run the risk of exciting the barque’s suspicions, or whether we should devote our whole energies to the pursuit of the latter. I was all for letting the brig go, for we knew, by the course she was steering, that she had no slaves on board, and the chances were even that we should find nothing else on board her sufficiently compromising to secure her condemnation by the Mixed Commission. Ryan, on the other hand, could not make up his mind to let the chance go by of making two prizes instead of one.

“‘A bird in hand is worth two in the bush, Harry, me bhoy,’” he remarked to me as we stood together near the binnacle, watching the approach of the brig, which was now foaming along not a quarter of a mile away from us; “and I look upon that brig as being quite as much in our hand as though you and I stood upon her quarter-deck, with all her crew safe under hatches. Steady there!” he continued, to the man at the tiller; “mind your weather-helm, my man, or you’ll be having that mainsail jibing over, and I need not tell you what that means in a breeze like this. Don’t meet her quite so sharply; if she seems inclined to take a sheer to starboard, let her go; I will take care that the brig does not run over us. Just look at her,” he went on, turning again to me, “isn’t she a beauty? Why, she’s almost as handsome, and as big too, as the Mercedes! D’ye mean to tell me that such a hull as that would ever be employed in the humdrum trade of carrying palm-oil? Why, it would be nothing short of a waste of skilful modelling! No, sorr, she was built for a slaver, and a slaver she is, or I’ll eat this hat of mine, puggaree and all, for breakfast!”

“I grant all that you say,” admitted I, “but if she has nothing incriminating on board her, what then? We shall only be wasting our time by boarding her, while we shall certainly give the alarm to the barque yonder, and, as likely as not, lose her for our pains.”

Ryan took a good long look at the barque, that was now about two points before our larboard beam, and some six miles distant, thrashing along in a style that did one’s heart good to see, and plunging into the heavy head-sea, against which she was beating until her foresail was dark with wet half-way up the weather-leech, and the spray was flying clean over her, and drifting away like smoke to leeward. Then he turned and looked at the brig on our opposite quarter.

“It’s risky,” he remarked to me through his set teeth, “but, by the powers, I’ll chance it! If we happen to be mistaken, why, I’ll make the skipper a handsome apology; if he’s a true man, that ought to satisfy him. Mr Bartlett”—to the boatswain—“cast off that drag and get it inboard over the port-rail with as little fuss as may be, so that if those fellows in the brig are watching us they may not know what we’re about; I want to keep that conthrivance a saycret as long as I can. Be as smart as you like about it. Mr Dugdale, I want twenty men to arm themselves forthwith, and then creep into the waist under the lee of the starboard bulwarks, taking care that they are not seen; pick me out the best men in the ship, if you please. Ah, here is Gowland, the very man I wanted to see! Mr Gowland, you see that brig—” and as I turned away to muster the men, and see that they were properly armed, he drew Gowland away to the other side of the deck, and began to communicate something to him in a very rapid, earnest manner.

By the time that the drag had been got inboard and stowed away, I had picked out the required men, and had contrived to get them by twos and threes under the starboard bulwarks without—so far as I knew—being seen by those on board the brig, watching the roll of the schooner and giving the word for the men to pass up through the scuttle and make a crouching run for it as the schooner rolled to port and hid her deck from the brig. That craft had by this time overhauled us, and was far enough ahead to permit of our reading her name—the Conquistador, of Havana—upon her stern; while our helmsman, taking Ryan’s hint, had steered so wildly, that he had sheered the schooner almost to within biscuit-toss of her neighbour. Meanwhile, now that the drag was no longer impeding us, we were gradually lessening the small space of water that separated us from the brig, and we could see that the schooner and her movements were exciting much curiosity and speculation, if not actual suspicion, in the minds of three men who stood right aft on her monkey-poop, intently watching us.

“Go for’ard and hail them,” said Ryan to me; “I want to get a little closer if I can without unduly exciting their suspicions. You can affect to be deaf if you like; perhaps that will give us a chance.”

I took the speaking-trumpet in my hand and, clambering leisurely into the fore-rigging, hailed in Spanish—

“Ho, the brig ahoy! what brig is that?”

“The Conquistador, of Havana,” was the reply. “What schooner is that?”

I turned to one of the men who was standing near me and asked, in the most natural manner in the world, “What did he say?”

“The Conkistee—something, of Hawaner, it sounded like to me, sir,” answered the man.

“What did you say?” I yelled at the brig, raising the trumpet again to my mouth.

“The Con-quist-a-dor, of Havana. What schooner is that?”

I assumed the most utter look of bewilderment I could upon the spur of the moment, and then, waving my arm impatiently at our helmsman to sheer still closer alongside the brig, whose quarter was now fair abreast of our fore-rigging, repeated my question—

“What did you say?”

My interlocutor, who was evidently the skipper of the brig, stamped on the deck with vexation as he raised his hands to his mouth, and yelled at the top of his voice—

“The Con-quist-a-dor, of Havana! Do not sheer so close to me, if you please, señor. You will be foul of me if you do not look out!”

“That will do, Mr Dugdale,” shouted Ryan in English, to the evident astonishment and consternation of the brig’s people, “we can manage now. Stand by to jump aboard with me. I shall want you to act as interpreter, for the deuce a word do I understand of their confounded lingo.”

And as he spoke he waved his hand to the helmsman, while at the same moment Gowland, who stood close by, hauled down the Spanish and ran up the British ensign to our peak. There was a shout of dismay from those on board the brig, and a quick trampling of feet as her crew rushed to their stations and hurriedly threw the coiled-up braces, halliards, and sheets off the pins with some confused notion of doing something to evade us even at the last moment. But they were altogether too late; Somers, the quarter-master, who had seen what was afoot, and had gradually worked his way aft, sprang to the tiller, and jamming it over to port, sheered us very cleverly alongside the brig in the wake of her main-rigging, into which Ryan and I instantly leaped, followed by our twenty armed men. The surprise was so sudden and so complete that there was no time for resistance, even had the Spaniards been disposed to offer any, and in another moment we had reached the brig’s deck and she was in our possession, the schooner instantly sheering off again to a short distance in order that the two craft might not do any damage to each other.

Having taken so very decisive a step as to board and carry the brig, there was now of course nothing for us but to go through with the affair in the same high-handed fashion. I therefore demanded at once to see the ship’s papers; and after many indignant protests they were produced and flung down upon the cabin table for our inspection. These fully established the identity of the brig; and as an examination of her hold revealed that she was fitted with a slave-deck, large coppers for the preparation of food for the unfortunate blacks her captain hoped to secure, a stock of water, and farina ample enough to meet the wants of a large “cargo,” and an abundance of slave-irons, we were fully justified in taking possession of her, which we did forthwith. Half-an-hour sufficed for us to secure our capture and put a prize-crew on board under Gowland’s command, and we then parted company; the brig to stand on for an hour as she was going—so as not to needlessly alarm the barque—and then to haul up and shape a course for Sierra Leone, while we at once hauled our wind in pursuit of our new quarry, which bore by this time well upon our port-quarter—as we had hitherto been going—with her topsails just showing above the horizon.

We had no sooner trimmed sail in chase of the barque than we found, to our unspeakable gratification, that we were still far enough to windward to lay well up for her, she being at the commencement of the chase not more than a point and a half upon our weather bow, while, from the superiority of our rig, we were able to look quite that much higher than she did. The question now was whether, in the strong wind and heavy sea that we had to contend against, we could hold our own with a craft so much more powerful than ourselves.

We had of course taken the precaution to get down a couple of reefs in our topsail, and the same in the foresail, as well as to haul down the squaresail and get the bonnet off the jib before leaving the Conquistador, but it was not until we had hauled our wind and put the schooner on a taut bowline, that we were able to realise how hard it was actually blowing. Up to then the wind had seemed no more to us than a brisk, pleasant breeze, while the schooner rode the long, creaming surges lightly as a gull. Now, however, we had to doff our straw hats in a hurry to save them from being blown away, and to don close-fitting cloth caps instead, as well as our oil-skins, while it was positively hard work to cross the deck against the wind. As for the schooner, she behaved like a mad thing, careening to her gunwale as she soared to the crest of a wave and cleft its foaming summit in a blinding deluge of spray that swept her decks from the weather cat-head right aft to the companion, and plunging next moment into the trough with a strong roll to windward, and a very bedlam of yells and shrieks aloft as the gale swept between her straining masts and rigging. She shuddered as if terrified at every headlong plunge that she took, while the milk-white spume brimmed to the level of her figure-head, and roared away from her bows in a whole acre of boiling, glistening foam. The creaking and groaning of her timbers and bulkheads raised such a din that a novice would have been quite justified in fearing that the little hooker was rapidly straining herself to pieces, while more than one crash of crockery below, faintly heard through the other multitudinous sounds, told us that the wild antics of the barkie were making a very pretty general average among our domestic utensils. But, with all her creaking and groaning, the schooner now proved herself to be a truly superb sea-boat, scarcely shipping so much as a bucketful of green water, despite the merciless manner in which we were driving her; and the way in which she surmounted sea after sea, turning up her streaming weather-bow to receive its buffet, and gaily “shaking her feathers” after every plunge, was enough to make a sailor’s heart leap with pride and exultation that was not to be lessened even by the awe-inspiring spectacle of the mountains of water that in continuous procession soared up from beneath her keel and went roaring away to leeward with foaming crests that towered to the height of the cross-trees.

Our first anxiety, of course, was to ascertain whether we were gaining upon the chase, or whether she was maintaining her distance from us; as soon, therefore, as we had secured our morning altitude of the sun for the determination of the longitude, we measured as accurately as we could the angle subtended by that portion of the barque’s main-mast which showed above the horizon. The task was one of very considerable difficulty owing to the violent motion of the two craft, and when we had done our best we were by no means satisfied with the result, but we thought it might possibly be some help to us; so when we had at length agreed upon the actual value of the angle, we clamped our instruments, and, taking them below, stowed them carefully away in our bunks, where there was not much danger of their coming to harm through the frantic plunging of the schooner, our purpose of course being to compare the angle then obtained with another to be measured an hour or two later. If the second angle should prove to be greater than the first, it would show that we had gained on the chase; if, on the contrary, it should prove to be less, it would show that the chase had increased her distance from us. It was shortly before noon when we again brought our sextants on deck, opinion being meanwhile strongly divided as to whether or not we were gaining; some asserting positively that we were, while others as stoutly maintained that we were not. But even our sextants failed to settle the question, for if there was any difference at all in the angle, it was too minute for detection, and we were left in almost the same state of suspense as before. The only relief afforded us was the assurance that we were practically holding our own with the barque, and that unless the weather grew still worse than it was, we stood a fairly good chance of catching her eventually. One thing was certain; light as our draught of water was, and small as was the schooner’s area of lateral resistance compared with that of the barque, we were slowly but certainly eating our way out upon her weather quarter, her main and foremasts having been visible to leeward of her mizenmast when the chase commenced, while now they just showed clear of each other to windward, thus conclusively demonstrating that we were gaining the weather-gauge of her, despite the heavy sea. This was certainly a most comforting reflection, and greatly helped to console us for the otherwise slow progress that we were making in the chase. Ryan seemed to be the most disappointed man among us all; he was very impetuous and hot-headed; he liked to do everything on the instant and with a rush; and upon the discovery that we were not gaining perceptibly, he muttered something about giving the schooner more canvas. Luckily, before giving the order he paused long enough to allow the fact to be borne in upon him that the masts were already whipping and bending like fishing-rods, and the gear taxed to its utmost capacity of resistance; and being, despite the characteristics above-mentioned, a reasonably prudent and careful officer, the sight restrained him, and he forbore to attempt anything so risky as the further over-driving of the already greatly over-driven craft.

Not so with the skipper of the barque. It was, of course, impossible for us to know whether he had observed the capture of the Conquistador—we hoped and believed not; but, however that may have been, it was certain that he had been keeping his eyes sufficiently open to promptly become aware of the fact that the schooner had altered her course and was standing after him under a very heavy press of sail, and if our surmises as to his character were anywhere near the truth, that circumstance alone would be quite sufficient to fully arouse his easily-awakened apprehensions and to urge him to keep us at arm’s-length at all risks. Be that as it may, we had just made it noon when the quarter-master called our attention to the fact that the barque’s people had loosed their main-topgallant-sail and were sheeting it home over the double-reefed topsail. It was an imprudent thing to do, however, for the sail had scarcely been set ten minutes when the topgallant-mast went over the side, snapped short off by the cap. Her skipper instantly availed himself of the pretext afforded by this accident to bear away three or four points while clearing the wreck, his object doubtless being to determine beyond all question whether we really were after him or not; and if this was his purpose, we did not leave him long in doubt upon the point, our own helm being put up the instant that we saw what he was about. Realising, by this move on our part, the true state of affairs, he now squared dead away before the wind, shook out all his reefs, and set his fore-topgallant-sail, as well as topmast and lower studding-sails. This was piling on the canvas with a vengeance, but Ryan was not the man to be bluffed by any such move as that; every glass we had was now levelled at the barque, and no sooner were her people seen in the rigging than away went our own, and so much smarter were our people than those belonging to the barque, that our own studding-sails were set and dragging like cart-horses while theirs were still being sent aloft. This experiment was tried for about half-an-hour, by which time it became evident that the schooner was fully as good off the wind as was the barque, if not a trifle better; she seemed to fairly fly, while at times, when the breeze happened to freshen a trifle, it really seemed as though she would be lifted out of the water altogether; and I am quite persuaded that but for the preventers we had rigged for the purpose of relieving the masts when she was rolling so heavily during the preceding calm—and which still remained aloft and were doing splendid service—we must have lost both our sticks and been reduced to a sheer hulk long before the half-hour had expired.

I have said that we were doing quite as well as, if not a trifle better than, the barque; for while we held our own with her, so that she was unable to appreciably alter her bearing from us, we were steadily edging up toward her, our gain in this respect being so great that ere the next manoeuvre was attempted we had risen her high enough to get a momentary glimpse of the whole length of her rail when she floated up on the crest of a sea. It was clear, therefore, that the barque had gained nothing by running off the wind; on the contrary, we had neared her fully a mile; her skipper, therefore, having given the unsuccessful experiment a fair trial, suddenly took in all his studding-sails again, reduced his canvas once more to a couple of reefs, and braced sharp up to the wind, as before. But here again we had the advantage of him through the superior smartness of our own crew, for he no sooner began to shorten sail than we did the same, handling our canvas so quickly that we were ready nearly five minutes before him, the result being that we had gained another half-mile upon him and had placed ourselves a good quarter of a mile upon his weather quarter by the time that he had sweated up his top sail-halliards. We now felt that, barring accidents, the barque was ours; she could escape us neither to leeward nor to windward. Instead, therefore, of continuing to jam the schooner as close into the wind’s eye as she would sail, with the object of weathering out on the barque, we pointed the little vixen’s jib-boom fair and square at the chase, checked the sheets and braces a few inches fore and aft, and put her along for all that she was worth.

It is astonishing to note the advantageous effect that is produced upon the sailing of a ship when it becomes possible to check the sheets and braces even a few paltry inches; it was distinctly noticeable in the case of the schooner; her movements were perceptibly freer and easier, she no longer drove her keen cut-water into the heart of the seas, receiving their blows upon the rounding of her weather bow with a force sufficient to shake her from stem to stern and almost to stop her way for an appreciable instant of time; she now slid smoothly up the breast of the wave, taking its stroke fairly in the wake of the fore-rigging, where it had little or no retarding effect upon her, surmounted its crest with a long, easy roll, and then sank with equal smoothness down into the trough, along which she sped lightly and swiftly as a petrel. It added a good half-a-knot to her speed.

It was soon apparent that even this comparatively trifling advantage on our part had not escaped the notice of our wary friend the skipper of the barque; it suggested to him yet one more experiment, and he was not slow to make it, keeping his ship away about a point and a half and checking his braces accordingly. This proved very much more satisfactory so far as he was concerned; for by four bells in the afternoon watch we had lost sight of the barque’s hull again, and it was unmistakably evident that she was increasing her distance from us. We held on, however, straight after her, as before; for although it was undeniable that she was now drawing away from us, it was but slowly; it would take her a good many hours to run us out of sight at that rate, and we felt pretty confident that when the weather moderated—which we hoped would be before long, as the glass indicated a slight rising tendency—we should have her at our mercy. Meanwhile, however, we felt that we must not count our chickens before they were hatched; for there would be nearly an hour and a half of darkness between sunset and moonrise, and in that time our crafty friend would be pretty certain to attempt some new trickery if there seemed a ghost of a chance of its proving successful.

Chapter Seven.

The Slaver’s Ruse.

The sun set that night in a broad bank of horizontal, mottled grey cloud, through which his beams darted in golden splendour at brief intervals for nearly half-an-hour after we had lost sight of the great luminary himself; and just about the time that the spars and canvas of the distant barque began to grow indistinct in the fast-gathering dusk of evening, there occurred a noticeable decrease in the strength of the wind, with every prospect of a tolerably fine night. Of course our glasses were never off the chase for more than five minutes at a time, but up to the moment when it became impossible to any longer distinguish the movements of those on board, no attempt to increase her spread of canvas had been observed. Whether by this apparent apathy her people hoped to lull us into a condition of equal carelessness, it is of course impossible for me to say; but, if so, they signally failed, for immediately that the barque’s outline faded into an indistinct blur in the growing darkness, we went to work and shook out a reef all round, never doubting but that they were at that moment doing precisely the same thing. And our supposition was most probably correct—Ryan, indeed, who had sent for his night-glass and brought it to bear upon her, declared that he could detect an increase in the area of her shadowy canvas—for even after we had made sail we could not perceive that we were in any wise decreasing the distance between the two vessels.

As the swift, tropical night shut down upon us every eye in the ship became strained to its utmost power in the effort to keep sight of the chase, for now that there could no longer be any doubt in the minds of her people that we were after them, we felt convinced that should an opportunity present itself for them to elude us in the darkness they would assuredly embrace it; and, being new to the coast and to the service, as most of us were, we had yet to learn by vexatious experience the fertility of resource which had been developed in the slave-trafficking fraternity by the unflagging pursuit to which they were subjected by the slave-squadron, and of which they never missed a chance to avail themselves. We had heard many an amusing story of the extraordinarily clever devices that these gentry had resorted to—very often successfully—in their endeavours to elude pursuit, and while we had laughed heartily at the recital of them, or commented admiringly upon their ingenuity, as the case might be, we had no fancy for further illustrating in our own persons their superiority in the art of mystification. And we were rendered all the more anxious by the fact that with nightfall the sky became overspread with a thin canopy of cloud that, while not sufficiently dense to wholly obscure the stars, so dimmed their lustre that it became difficult to distinguish, even through our night-glasses, the forms of the waves at a greater distance than half-a-mile; while as for the chase, we were at length reluctantly compelled to admit to each other that we had lost sight of her altogether, or at least that we could not be absolutely certain whether we could still see her or not; sometimes we were confident that we could, at other times we utterly failed to make her out.

It was while we were in this painful condition of uncertainty that Ryan—who like myself had remained on deck, diligently working away with his glass, and utterly deaf to the more than once repeated statement of the steward that the dinner was on the cabin table—turned quickly to me and said—

“Do you see that greenish-looking star just glimmering through the clouds right over our jib-boom end? Here, stand exactly where I am, and when she pitches you will see it showing about ten degrees above the horizon. There! do you see the star I mean?”

“Yes,” said I, catching sight of the pale green glimmer as he placed me in position. “Yes, I see it. What of it?”

“Just carry your eye from it down to the horizon at an angle of about forty-five degrees in an easterly direction, and tell me if you see anything particular.”

I did so, and after two or three attempts thought I caught a faint gleam like the light of a lamp shining through a red curtain.

“Yes,” I answered, “I fancy I can just make out a dim something.” And I described what I saw.

“Precisely!” exclaimed Ryan delightedly. “There! now I have it in my glass—no, it is gone again—this jump of a sea renders it almost impossible to use one’s telescope on the deck of such a lively little hooker as this—not that I’ve a word to say against her, God bless her, she’s a beauty, every inch of her, but I wish she’d remain steady for a second or two. There, I have it again! Yes, it’s a light in the barque’s after-cabin. They’ve drawn the curtains, never suspecting that the light would show through. Yes, there’s no mistake about it, I can see it quite plainly now; upon my word I believe we are overhauling her now that the breeze has dropped a bit. Mr Pierrepoint, d’ye see that light?”

“Where away, sir?”

It was pointed out to the lad, and after some searching and prying—for it was so very dim that it was almost impossible to distinguish it with the naked eye—he caught sight of it.

“Very well, then,” remarked Ryan, with a return to his old, humorous manner that showed how great a relief to him was the appearance of the faint ruddy gleam, “keep your eye upon it, my bhoy, until I give ye a shpell. Mr Dugdale and Oi are now goin’ below to dinner, and if ye lose soight of that loight, bedad I’ll—I’ll keelhaul ye, ye shpalpeen. He’s edgin’ away off the wind, d’ye see, the blagguard! I wouldn’t be surprised if he was to up helm and shquare away before it in a minute or two, hopin’ to run us out of soight before the moon rises, so don’t let your oye go off that light for a single inshtant if ye value your shkin. Keep her away a bit”—to the man at the helm—“let her go off a point! So! steady as you go! There, Masther Freddy, the light is right forninst your jib-boom end now. Mind that ye kape it there. We’re certainly gaining on her.” And, patting the lad affectionately on the shoulder, the warm-hearted Irishman turned and beckoned me to follow him down into the cabin.

We had been below about half-an-hour, and were getting well forward with our dinner, when we heard the voices of Pierrepoint and the quarter-master in earnest conversation over the open skylight, and an occasional word or two that reached us seemed to indicate that they were in doubt about something. We both pricked up our ears a little; and presently we heard Pierrepoint ejaculate in a tone of impatience and with a stamp of his foot on the deck—

“I’ll be shot if I can understand it at all, Somers; I shall call the captain.”

“I really think I would, sir, if I was you. I don’t believe that’s the barque at all; it’s some circumwenting trick that they’ve been playing us, that’s my opinion!”

At this Ryan started to his feet and, hailing through the skylight, asked—

“What is the matter, Mr Pierrepoint; have you lost sight of the light?”

“No, sir,” answered poor Freddy, in a tone of distress; “the light is still straight ahead of us, and we seem to be nearing it fast, but I can’t make out anything like the loom of the sails or hull of the barque, and if she is there I think we ought to see her by this time. The red light shows quite plainly in the glass.”

“I will join you on deck and have a look at it,” exclaimed Ryan; and, rising from the table, he sprang up the companion-ladder three steps at a time, I following close at his heels.

Yes; there was the light, sure enough, right ahead of us; and a glance aloft as well as the feel of the breeze on our faces told us in an instant that the schooner had been further kept away, and was now running well off the wind, although the change had been so gradual that we had not noticed it while sitting in the cabin. Ryan took the glass from Pierrepoint and brought it to bear on the light.

“Yes,” he remarked, with the telescope still at his eye, “that is the light, beyond a doubt; but, as you say, Mr Pierrepoint, I can see no sign of the barque herself. Yet she must be there, for that light is obviously moving, and I observe that you have, very properly, kept away to follow it. Surely,” he continued, with an accent of impatience and perplexity, “we have not been following some other craft that has hove above the horizon since the darkness set in? And, even so, I can see nothing of the craft herself. Obviously, however, we are nearing the light—whatever it is—fast, for I can see it quite distinctly in the glass, I even fancy that I can see it rising and falling. Take the glass, Dugdale, and tell me what you can make of it.”

I took the glass, and, after a long and patient scrutiny of the mysterious light, pronounced my opinion.

“To me, sir,” said I, “it has the appearance of an ordinary ship’s lantern wrapped in a strip of red bunting and hung from a pole, or something of that sort. For, if you will look at it closely, you will notice that it sways with the wash of the sea, and now and then seems to swing for an instant behind a slender object like a light spar. But I could almost take my oath that there is no barque or any other kind of craft there.”

Once again Ryan took the telescope, and after a further prolonged scrutiny, he exclaimed—

“By the powers, but I believe you are right, and if so we have been done! It certainly has very much the appearance that you describe. But what in the world can it be? It is a moving object, beyond all doubt, for see how we have been obliged to run off the wind in chase of it! However, we are close to it now, for I can make out the swinging of the lantern—and a lantern it is—with the naked eye. It is some confounded contrivance for leading us astray, that is what it is! But since we are so close to it, we may as well ascertain its character, if only to be awake to the trick if it ever happens to be played upon us a second time. Hands by the braces here, and stand by to back the topsail. And get two or three lanterns ready to swing over the side, so that we may see just exactly what the thing is.”

We had by this time approached the mysterious object so nearly that another three or four minutes sufficed to bring it within a couple of hundred feet of the schooner’s weather bow, when the topsail was laid to the mast, and our way checked sufficiently to permit of a careful examination of the thing, whatever it was. By the time that we had forged ahead far enough to bring it on our weather beam it was close aboard of us, and then the light of our lanterns disclosed the nature of the contrivance by which we had been so cleverly tricked. It was in fact nothing more than a raft composed of five nine-inch planks laid parallel to each other with a space of about a foot between each, and firmly secured together by a couple of stout cross-pieces nailed athwart the whole concern. The fore-ends of the planks had been sawn away to the shape of a sharp wedge to facilitate the movement of the raft through the water, and on the foremost cross-piece had been rigged an oar for a mast, upon which was set a hastily-contrived squaresail, made out of a piece of old tarpaulin. To the head of the mast was securely lashed an old lantern with a short length of candle, still burning, in it; the lantern being cunningly draped in red bunting to represent the appearance of a lamp shining through a curtain. And the whole contrivance was rendered self-steering by the attachment of a few fathoms of line to the after-end of the middle plank, at the other extremity of which a drogue, consisting of a short length of plank, was attached. This drogue had the effect of keeping the raft running dead before the wind, and it travelled at a very respectable pace, too—quite five knots an hour, we estimated its speed at—for the sail was quite a big one for so small an affair; and since we had been steering for it for just about an hour, it meant that we had been decoyed some five miles to leeward of our proper course.

The question now was: Where was the barque? It did not take us very long to make up our minds upon this point. It was pretty evident that since her skipper had been at so much pains to entice us away down to leeward, he would have held his wind all this time; and to windward therefore must we look for him. Whether, however, he had tacked and stood away to the westward immediately after launching his raft, or whether he had held on upon the port tack to the northward, we could not possibly tell, for a diligent and prolonged use of our night-glasses failed to reveal the slightest indication of his whereabouts. Ryan, however, was not long in arriving upon a conclusion in the matter. He argued that if he had tacked we ought also to tack forthwith, because, if we stood on as we were going until the moon rose, we might run out of sight of him; whereas, if he had not tacked, he would be at that moment somewhere about broad on our weather bow. If therefore he had tacked, we should be doing the right thing to tack also, since we should then be standing directly after him; while if he had not tacked, we should still be doing right to heave about, since even in that case we should probably see something of him from our mast-head when the moon rose, as she would in less than half-an-hour. We therefore at once put the helm down and hove round on the starboard tack, keeping the schooner as close to the wind as she would lie, while still allowing her to go along through the water.

A faint brightening in the sky by and by announced the welcome approach of the moon upon the scene; and shortly afterwards the beautiful planet herself, considerably shrunken from her full-orbed splendour, rose slowly into view above the horizon, her curtailed disc showing of a deep, ruddy orange-colour through the dense, humid vapours of the lower atmosphere. Two hands were at once sent up to the topgallant-yard to take a look round; but even after they had been there an hour—by which time the moon had risen high enough to give us plenty of light—they failed to discover any sign of the barque or anything else; and we were at length reluctantly compelled to admit that we had been very cleverly tricked, and that our cunning neighbour had fairly given us the slip.

“But I’ll not give him up, even now!” exclaimed Ryan, when this conviction had fairly forced itself upon us. “Come down below, Dugdale, and let us reason this thing out.”

We accordingly descended to our snug little cabin and seated ourselves at the table, Ryan producing a sheet of paper, a scale, and a pencil wherewith to graphically illustrate our line of reasoning.

“Now, here,” said he, drawing an arrow near one margin of the paper, “is the wind, coming out at west as nearly as may be; and here,” laying the scale upon the paper, measuring off a distance, and making two pencil dots, “are the positions of the barque and the schooner when the former was last seen. Now, I estimate that the barque was going about eight and a half knots, and we were reeling off nine by the log at that time; and this state of affairs continued at least until the light was seen, which was about half-an-hour after we lost sight of our friend. Consequently, when the light was first seen, the schooner was here”—making another dot—“and the barque there,” making a fourth.

“Now, what would the blagguard be most likely to do when he had safely launched his raft? He knew that it would go skimming away to leeward, taking us with it; and I therefore think it most probable that he would tack at once, going off in this direction,” laying down a line upon the paper. “Meanwhile, the raft went scudding away to leeward until we met it there,” making another dot. “Then we tacked, and, laying a point higher than he can, stood along this line,” ruling one carefully in as he spoke. “Now, we have been travelling along this line, say an hour and a quarter, which brings us here. But where is the barque? If she had tacked, and continued to stand on until now, she would be there, eleven or twelve miles away, and we should see her. Supposing, however, that she continued to stand on as she was going when we last saw her, she would now be there, twenty-eight miles away! Phew! I was a long way out of my reckoning when I thought that we should still have her in sight, even if we tacked. We’ve lost her, Harry, my bhoy, and that’s a fact. However, we know where she’s bound to, and that’s the island of Cuba, or I’m a Dutchman. Very well. Having given us the slip she will make the best of her way there without further delay; and it is my opinion that if she is still standing to the northward she will not continue to do so for very much longer, because, d’ye see, my bhoy, she’ll be afraid of falling in with some of our cruisers if she stands in too close to the coast. Therefore, as we can hug the wind closer than she can, we’ll just stand on as we are going for a day or two longer, or until the wind changes—in fact, we will shape a course for Cuba—and if we don’t fall in with her again within the next seventy-two hours I shall give her up. Meanwhile the wind is dropping fast, so we will get some more muslin upon the little hooker.”

As Ryan had said, the wind was dropping fast, so rapidly, indeed, that when eight bells was struck at midnight the schooner was under all the canvas that we could set, and even then was only creeping along at a speed of some two and a half knots per hour. Oh, how fervently we wished then that we could see even as much as the mere mastheads of the barque! for we felt certain that in such a light air the schooner would make short work of overtaking her. But nothing hove in sight; and when the next morning dawned we were still alone upon the face of the vast ocean.

With the rising of the sun the small draught of air that still remained to us fell dead; and we had it calm the whole day and well on into the succeeding night. Then the weather became unsettled and thundery, with light baffling airs interspersed with fierce squalls from all quarters of the compass, during which we made scarcely sixty miles in the twenty-four hours.

It was about midnight of the third day after we had lost sight of the barque, and the seventy-two hours that Ryan had allowed himself in which to find her again were fully spent, without affording us another glimpse of her. All hands, from Ryan himself down to the smallest boy in the ship, were dreadfully disgusted and crestfallen at our want of success; and we were only waiting for a breeze to spring up from somewhere to enable us to shape a course back to our cruising ground. The weather, however, was still very overcast and lowering, with signs not wanting that another heavy thunderstorm was brewing, which would probably bring us the desired breeze. There was not much swell running, but sufficient, nevertheless, to tumble the schooner about a good deal; and I had accordingly taken it upon myself to clew up, haul down, and furl every stitch of canvas, in order to save the sails from battering themselves to rags. The thunder had been gradually working up ever since sunset, and in fact even before that, and when eight bells struck at midnight, and my watch below came round, the weather had such a curious and portentous look, and the atmosphere was moreover so close and heavy, that I determined to stretch myself out “all standing” on the stern grating instead of going below, so that I might be all ready in case my presence should be required.

It was shortly after two bells when Pierrepoint came and roused me out with the remark—

“I am sorry to disturb you, Dugdale, but I think it is going to rain very shortly, and if you remain there you stand a very good chance of getting soaked to the skin. And what do you think of the weather? Is it merely a thunder-squall that has been brewing all this time, or what is it? Just look at those clouds overhead, their edges look quite red, as though there was a fire somewhere behind them. Do you think I should call the captain?”

It was as he had said. The sky was banked up from horizon to zenith, all round, with enormous cloud-piles, black as ink in the body of them, but their fringes or edges, which had a curiously tattered appearance, were of a distinct fiery red hue. All this time there was not a breath of wind save what was created by the schooner as she rolled heavily on the gathering swell; not a sound save those which arose within her as the bulkheads and timbers creaked and groaned dismally, the cabin-doors rattled, the rudder kicked as the water swirled and gurgled about it and under her counter with the heave of her, and the jerk of the spars aloft, or the slatting of the braces as she swayed, pendulum-like, from side to side.

“What does the glass say?” inquired I, in response to Pierrepoint’s last question. I walked to the open skylight and peered down through it at the barometer, the tube of which was just sufficiently illuminated by the turned-down cabin lamp to permit of its condition being noted. It had fallen an inch since I last looked at it, during my watch on deck!

“Phew!” ejaculated I, “there must surely be something the matter with the thing; it can never have fallen that much in scarcely two hours!”

I hurried below and, turning up the lamp, subjected the instrument to a careful examination; but, as far as I could make out, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it; the fall had all the appearance of being perfectly genuine. But, whether or not, it was certain that the captain ought at once to be made acquainted with the state of affairs; I therefore went forthwith to his cabin and aroused him.

“Ay, ay,” he answered sleepily, to my call. “What is it, Mr Dugdale? Has the barque hove in sight?”

“No such luck, sir, I am sorry to say,” replied I. “But I think you ought to know that the weather has a very peculiar and threatening appearance; and the glass has dropped a full inch within the last two hours.”

“An inch?” ejaculated Ryan, starting up in his bunk. “An inch? Surely, Dugdale, you must be mistaken!”

“Indeed, sir, I am not,” said I. “I examined the barometer very carefully, and satisfied myself that I had made no mistake before calling you.”

“By Jove, then, it is high time that I was on deck!” exclaimed he, leaping out of his bunk. “Just put a match to my lamp, Harry, my lad, will ye; you will find a box there on the shelf. Is there any wind?”

“Not a breath, sir; but I shall not be surprised if we have a great deal more than we want before long,” I answered.

“Um!” said he. “Well, almost anything short of a hurricane would be better than these exasperating calms. The swell seems to have risen a bit since I turned in, hasn’t it?”

“Quite perceptibly,” said I, “and it seems to be coming more out from the northward than at first.”

“Well,” said he, thrusting his bare feet into his slippers, “let us go on deck and take a look round.”

And, he leading the way, we forthwith trundled up the companion-ladder and stepped out on deck.

It seemed to have grown blacker and more threatening than ever during the short time that I had been below, although that may have been due to the contrast between the light of the cabin and the darkness on deck; the ruddy tinge on the cloud edges, however, was even more pronounced than before, the colour having slightly changed and grown more like the hue of red-hot copper. Ryan was evidently much astonished—and, I thought, somewhat dismayed—by what he saw.

“By the powers!” he ejaculated, “you did right to call me, Dugdale. If we were in the Indian Ocean, now, I would say that a cyclone was brewing; and, now I come to think of it, there is no Act of Parliament against one brewing here. How is the glass now? has it dropped anything since you last looked at it?”

I went to the skylight and once more peered at the mercury.

“Yes, indeed, sir, it has,” answered I, “it has gone down nearly one-tenth!”

“Then, by the piper, we’re in for something out of the common, and the sooner we set about preparing for it, the better!” exclaimed Ryan. “Ah! I see you have already furled everything; well, that leaves us so much the less to be still done. Call all hands, however, for we may have it upon us at any moment, by the look of things up there,” pointing to the frowning, ruddy sky. “Rig in the jib-boom, and send down all but the lower-yard on deck, and both topmasts as well. Set some of the men to secure the canvas with double gaskets; and close-reef the boom-foresail and set it. Let the carpenter look to the hatches and see that they are securely battened down, and he had better examine the pumps also; our lives may depend upon them before all is over. Where is the boatswain? Oh, is that you, Bartlett? Give an eye to the boats’ gripes, will you, and see that they are all right. I have known a boat to be blown clean from the davits before now. Hurrah, men! look alive with those yards, and let us have them down here on deck as quickly as possible.”

The schooner was by this time as busy as a beehive in swarming-time, the men working with a will, since they knew, from the sharp, incisive tones in which Ryan issued his orders, as well as by the menacing aspect of the sky, that the occasion was pressing. Fortunately, in so small and lightly-rigged a craft as the Felicidad, the task of preparing her for the forthcoming battle with the elements was not a heavy one, and, being well manned for our size, we were soon ready.

None too soon, however. For hardly had the finishing touches been given to our preparations, and the guns and boats made thoroughly secure, than we were momentarily dazzled and blinded by a terrific flash of blue lightning that seemed to dart from the clouds immediately overhead, and to strike the water close to us, filling the dead and heavy air with a strong odour of brimstone, while simultaneously we were deafened and stunned by a most awful, ear-splitting crack of thunder that made the schooner quiver from stem to stern as though she had been struck by a heavy shot.

Ryan, Pierrepoint, and I were all standing close together near the companion at the moment when the lightning flashed out, illumining the whole scene for an instant with a light as brilliant as that of the noonday sun, and while I was still in process of recovering from the shock produced by the terrifying crash of the thunder, I heard my fellow-mid exclaim to the captain—

“There! did you see that, sir? There is a craft of some sort away out there,” pointing in a north-easterly direction. “I saw her as distinctly as possible. She is about six miles away, and is stripped to her close-reefed topsails—”

“Did you see that ship out there on our port-quarter, sir?” hailed one of the men from the forecastle, interrupting Master Freddy in his tale.