The last day of my home-life came to an end. Pierce and I went to our room and turned in to our beds, but not to sleep. We had still many things to say to each other, though we had probably said them over and over again before. I promised to write a journal, to show to him when I came back from my first voyage; and he agreed to keep one, from which he might make extracts when he wrote to me, so that I might know everything that took place in our family circle.
Our father, Mr Rayner, was a half-pay lieutenant; but at the end of the war, having no expectation of promotion, he had left the service and joined his elder brother, our Uncle Godfrey (after whom I was named), in a mercantile business at Bristol, near which city we lived. He knew nothing of office work, but hoped by diligence and attention to be of assistance. Our uncle, however, died before he had gained a thorough knowledge of the business; and, besides the sorrow he felt at losing one he loved, much responsibility in consequence devolved upon him. I believe that his affairs were not as prosperous as he could have desired; and he sometimes expressed his regret that he had engaged in an undertaking for which he was not fitted.
I had shown no predilection for a seat in the counting-house; and consequently, when his old shipmate Captain Bracewell, who had just been appointed to the command of the Heroine sloop-of-war, offered to take one of his sons as a midshipman, he allowed me, greatly to my delight, to enter the navy.
My sea-chest, already packed, stood at one end of the room, with my dirk and the uniform I was to put on next day lying upon it; in which, as may be supposed, I had already exhibited myself to Pierce and our sister Edith, who was younger than either of us, and naturally thought it, as she told me, very becoming; an opinion I also entertained, as did our mother, and—I flattered myself—the rest of the household.
At last Pierce’s voice grew more and more inarticulate, and he dropped off to sleep. I, after some time, was following his example, when the door opened, and our mother glided into the room, afraid of awakening me. I was conscious that she was bending over me: a tear dropped on my cheek, and I felt her loving kiss on my brow. I started up and passed my arm round her neck. She perhaps thought that it was the last time I should be with her alone on earth.
“Godfrey, my dear boy,” she said, “fear to offend God, and be faithful and true to him and to all men. He will ever prove your best Friend, here and throughout eternity.”
“I will, mother; indeed I will,” I answered, as soon as the beatings of my heart and the sobs which burst from my breast allowed me to speak.
“Hush,” she said at length; “we must not awaken Pierce. And you too, Godfrey, must go to sleep, to be ready for your journey to-morrow.”
She left me, but I could hear her breathing outside the door till she thought I had dropped off to sleep.
Next morning all the family were up to see me off. I won’t describe the scene: my dear, sweet little sister Edith, though she looked so proud of me in my uniform, sobbed as if she would break her heart; and I found it a hard matter to restrain my feelings, till the coach came by, and, my chest being stowed away in the boot, my father and I mounted to the top. I soon recovered my spirits, when my father, entering into conversation with our fellow-passengers, led me to join in it. Most of them were seafaring men; and one of them, with naval buttons on his greatcoat, made himself known to my father as Peter Mudge, once a little midshipman with him, but now an old master’s mate on his way to join the Heroine.
“You’ll keep an eye on this youngster, then, for my sake, Mudge?” said my father; “though I know you would without my asking you.”
“That I will, Mr Rayner,” answered Mr Mudge; “I’ll do all I can for him, though that may be but little.”
“You’ve got one friend on board already, Godfrey,” observed my father, “through my interest. I hope you will soon have many more by your own merits.”
We reached Plymouth late in the day; and the next morning my father took me on board to introduce me to the captain and officers. Captain Bracewell received me very kindly; and when my father left—as he was soon obliged to do—to return home, Peter Mudge took charge of me, and led me down into the midshipmen’s berth, where he introduced me to my new messmates. I was at home in a few minutes, and made up my mind that I should be very jolly. In this opinion I was confirmed by the assurances of another midshipman of about my own age, or rather younger, Tommy Peck by name, who had also come to sea for the first time, and who naturally became my chief chum. He was a merry fellow, delighting in fun and mischief; caring very little about the result of the latter, provided he could amuse himself for the moment; and without a particle of forethought. He was not altogether destitute of sense, but at the time I speak of he greatly required a friend like Mudge to keep him in the right way.
The sails were loosed, the men were going round the capstan to the sound of the merry fife, when a messenger from the Admiralty arrived in hot haste, directing the captain to carry out despatches to the governor of Cape Coast Castle, instead of proceeding direct to the Pacific, whither we were bound.
The wind being fair and fresh, in a few hours we were out of sight of land. For the first time in my life, as I gazed round from the deck, I saw only the circle of the horizon where sea and sky met. It produced in me a sensation of pleasure not unmixed with awe, though I confess that the feeling very soon wore off.
The next day at noon the midshipmen were ordered to bring up their quadrants; and I received my first practical lesson in navigation. I was anxious to gain a knowledge of my profession, and Peter Mudge did his best to instruct me.
Day after day we sailed on, the fair wind lasting us till we got to the latitude of the Cape de Verde Islands, and I began to fancy that the stories I had heard of gales and hurricanes were fabulous, and that we were to enjoy the same sort of weather during our cruise.
“Wait a bit, my lad, till we’re rounding Cape Horn; you’ll then chance to pick up a notion of what a heavy sea is like, if you don’t happen to learn sooner,” said Peter Mudge.
In spite of calms and light winds, however, we at length came off Cape Coast Castle; consisting of an extensive range of buildings surrounded by fortifications, appearing of snowy whiteness against the dark foliage of the wooded height in the background. The captain went on shore to deliver his despatches to the governor. We were expecting the pleasure of a run on shore, when he returned on board, and ordering the anchor to be hove up, we stood to the south-eastward under all sail.
It soon became known that the governor had received intelligence of the appearance of a large craft off the coast, supposed to be a pirate, of which he had directed the captain to go in search. A sharp look-out was accordingly kept for her during the night. She was said to be heavily armed; under Spanish colours; and that her plan of proceeding was to capture any traders she could fall in with, take possession of their cargoes, and exchange them on the coast for slaves, with which she returned to Cuba. “A profitable style of business, whatever might be said of its honesty. I only hope that we may catch her with English property on board,” said Mudge; “we shall soon put a stop to her tricks.”
The next evening a sail was sighted on the starboard bow, steering the same course as we were; and we immediately stood for her, hoping that she was the pirate. It was doubtful whether she had seen us; if she had, she had possibly taken us for a merchantman. Darkness was coming on, but we had got her bearings; and unless she was suspicious of us she would stand on as she was doing, and perhaps shorten sail to allow us to come up with her; if so, we had no doubt that we should take her. As it was fully believed that she would not yield without fighting, the ship was cleared for action; the crew went to their quarters, and all stood ready should we sight her, which we might do at any moment.
On glided our ship over the dark waters, her masts towering to the sky like some phantom of the night. A strange feeling came over me as I thought that in a few minutes we might be hotly engaged in firing away at the enemy, round shot and bullets flying about us.
“Sail right ahead, sir!” shouted the second lieutenant from forward. I looked out eagerly, and saw the tall masts and sails of a ship fully as large as, if not larger than, the Heroine.
“We must speak her before firing, lest we should be engaging a friend,” I heard the commander observe to Mr Worthy, the first lieutenant. “If yonder craft is a pirate, she takes us for a merchant vessel, as she probably knew that no man-of-war of our size was on the station. Don’t fire a shot till I give the order.”
After this not a word was spoken. In perfect silence we glided onwards, rapidly approaching the dark ship, which we could now distinguish clearly, with her courses brailed up, evidently awaiting us. The captain’s intention was to run up on her starboard quarter, so as to keep her between us and the land. We were almost within hail, and expected in another instant to be engaged, when down came her courses, the yards were braced sharp up, and she stood away on a bowline towards the coast. On this our helm was immediately put down, and we did the same, keeping directly after her and firing our bow-chasers. She was evidently a fast craft, for she rapidly drew ahead of us. The breeze freshened, and having all sail set, we heeled over till the lee guns dipped into the water.
“We shall be whipping the masts out of her, if we don’t take care,” I heard Mudge observe.
The captain seemed to think the same. “Hand royals and topgallant sails,” he sang out; “be smart, my lads.”
The top-men hurried aloft to obey the order, for every one knew there was no time to be lost. The masts bent like willow wands, and I expected every moment to see them go over the side. While attending to shortening sail, the eyes of the officers were withdrawn from the chase; for some of the ropes getting foul during the operation, we were obliged to luff up to clear them, thereby allowing her to get still farther ahead. Still, she could be distinguished standing to the eastward. As soon as the sails were handed we stood on again after her, staggering along under such canvas as we could carry, and every eye on board turned towards her.
“If she runs us out of sight, she’ll put her helm up and stand down the coast,” observed Mudge; “and it will be a hard matter to find her again.”
Our chief hope was that our shot might wing her; but only one gun could be brought to bear, and with the sea there was on, though it was not very heavy, our aim was uncertain. Still, as we had got her jammed in between us and the coast, there was little chance of her ultimately escaping.
We had been running on for some time, the chase still gaining on us, and becoming dimmer and dimmer to view, when a heavy squall struck the ship, and heeled her over so much that the captain gave the order to shorten sail. It cleared off, however, before the sheets were let fly; but when we again looked ahead the chase was nowhere to be seen. We accordingly edged away to the southward, in case she should have gone off before the wind.
Not long after this the morning broke, and the wind went down. As the chase was not to be seen to the southward, the captain and Mr Worthy were still convinced that she had continued her course to the eastward, but that the thick mist hanging over the coast was hiding her from sight. We had again made all sail, and were standing on as before, when the look-out at the mast-head shouted, “Land! land!” and shortly afterwards, as the atmosphere cleared, we could see the wood-covered heights of the African coast rising above the belt of thick mist which still hung over the lower ground, and which would effectually conceal the chase should she have stood in for the shore.
“Should she be there, we shall soon sight her,” observed Mudge. “I only hope that her rascally crew will have the courage to fight for their lives and liberty; though there isn’t much chance of that.”
The lead was kept going, of course, and showed a much greater depth of water than had been expected. On reference to the chart, the captain found that we must be approaching the mouth of a large river. The sun rising, dissipated the mist; and we had got close to the mouth of the river when the wind fell. Being thus unable to enter it, we were compelled to bring up at no great distance from the shore. From where we lay we could see but a very little way up the river, a point of land covered with trees hiding the next reach, so that the chase might be there, though invisible to us. The captain accordingly directed the first lieutenant to pull up in the gig to ascertain if she was there; intending, if so, to carry the ship into the river whenever the sea-breeze should set in. As she was a large, well-armed vessel, with a numerous crew, he was unwilling to risk the loss of his men, at the commencement of a long voyage, by attacking her with the boats.
The gig was soon hidden behind the point; when the watch below, to which I belonged, was allowed to lie down in the shade on deck—for, having been awake all night, we could scarcely keep our eyes open. I was in an instant asleep; and being roused up again after a snooze of two hours, I found that the gig had not returned. The captain was beginning to get anxious, when the look-out from the mast-head, who could see farther over the point than we could on deck, shouted, “The gig in sight, and another boat following her.”
Some minutes passed, when we saw the gig chased round the point, the crew pulling with all their might; and the next instant a much larger boat hove in sight. As she did so, a man standing in the stern-sheets was seen to lift a musket and fire at the gig: at the same moment an oar dropped from the hands of one of the crew, who sank down on the thwart; the gig, however, still coming on. It was a wanton act. The large boat pulled round, and before we could have brought one of our guns to bear on her she was again hidden behind the point. The captain, on seeing the occurrence, ordered the other boats to be got ready, intending to send them up in chase of the audacious stranger, and they were in the water before the gig was alongside.
Lieutenant Worthy, on coming on deck, informed the captain that he had gone up the river for some distance without seeing the chase, when, just as he had at length caught sight of her topgallant-masts over a wooded point, a large boat had darted out from behind it; while several shots fired from the shore warned him of the danger of proceeding farther. Immediately putting the gig round, he pulled down the river, seeing that it would be madness to attempt attacking the larger boat with his small crew.
The daring way in which the large boat had attempted to capture the gig proved the character of the craft to which she belonged; as also that either her crew must consider themselves strong enough to resist a man-of-war, or possibly might suppose that we should not venture into the river.
In the meantime, the gig with the wounded man had been hoisted up. He still breathed, and was immediately carried below, and placed under the care of the surgeon; who, on examining his wound, expressed but slight hope that he would recover. On hearing this, the crew threatened the pirates with their vengeance, and were eager to go up the river and take them.
We now anxiously waited for the sea-breeze. The cable was hove short, the sails loosed; still, as we looked eastward, not a ripple disturbed the glass-like surface of the ocean.
“We’ve got the fellow in a trap, at all events,” observed Mudge, “and fight he must, whether he likes it or not.”
“I hope he will,” I answered. “I should like to see a good fierce battle; and there will be little glory in taking the pirate, should she give in at once.”
“You’ll sing a different note when you find the shot come flying thickly about your ears, my boy,” answered Mudge; “and as for the glory, there’s not much to be gained by capturing a rascally pirate. For my part, I hope she’ll knock under at once, and give us as little trouble as possible.”
Hour after hour went by, but the breeze did not come; and I heard Lieutenant Worthy remark that it would afford time to the pirates, if they were so minded, to fortify themselves on shore, which would enable them to hold out much better against us, as we should have both the fort and the ship to contend against.
“That must not stop us,” observed the captain; “we must take the ship first, and the fort afterwards.”
At last a few cat’s-paws were seen playing over the water. The dog-vanes blew out, and the breeze, fresh and pure from the ocean, began to blow. The anchor was quickly got up; and the ship, at first standing close-hauled to weather the point, glided on towards the main channel of the river. The bar, on which the water was unusually deep,—a few slight rollers only coming in over it,—was safely passed, when we began to stand up the stream. The shores on either hand were thickly covered with trees, forming impenetrable walls of foliage, and preventing us from seeing the country beyond, with the exception of some high hills which rose in the distance.
The wind being light, and the current running out, we made but slow progress; and before we got far up the river the wind again failed us, and we were compelled to come to an anchor. Had it not been for Mr Worthy’s report, we should have supposed that the ship was not there, and should probably have stood out to sea again, in the hope of falling in with her elsewhere. As evening drew on, the hot land-breeze again blew down the river, which was here of considerable width.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if the pirate were to try to give us the slip after all,” observed Mudge. “We must keep a sharp look-out, so that we may stop her should she make the attempt. I only hope she will, as it will be more to our advantage to bring her to action under way, than to have to attack her at anchor, with springs on her cables, and protected by a fort which, if the fellows have any sense in their heads, they are sure to throw up.”
It was still daylight, and Peter and I were walking the deck, for it was our watch; indeed, the midshipmen’s berth not being the pleasantest place in the world in that climate, we were seldom in it, except at meal-times. I have not talked much about the heat, but the air, if not hotter, was more stifling in that river than we had felt it since we reached the coast. I was looking towards the nearest shore, off which we had brought up at the distance of scarcely a cable-length, when I saw a figure moving amid the trees. I pointed him out to Mudge. Presently, as he reached the bank, we saw that he was a black man, without a particle of clothing on. Putting his hand to his mouth, he hailed, and then waved vehemently, as if to attract our attention. Mudge sent me to tell Mr Worthy; who at once ordered a boat to be lowered, and directed Mudge to pull in to the shore, to ascertain what he wanted. The black, however, turning his head over his shoulder, either saw or heard the approach of some one he wished to avoid, and plunging into the river, began to swim towards the ship. Mudge and I had jumped into the boat, and as we were approaching the shore to pick up the black I saw a dark fin rise just ahead of us. I told Mudge.
“That’s a brute of a shark!” he exclaimed, “and a big fellow too, and the chances are he has poor Blackie for his supper.”
“Not if our voices can drive the monster away,” I answered, horrified at the thought of witnessing the destruction of a fellow-creature. “Shout! shout, all hands!”
Mudge and I raised our voices, joined by the crew, who gave way with redoubled vigour. The black, who just then saw the shark coming, began to splash and kick, and to shout pretty lustily. This was not the only peril to which he was exposed, for at the same moment several persons appeared among the trees, with muskets in their hands, and began to fire at him. Happily, one of the bullets aimed at him or at us struck the savage shark, just as it was about to make a dash at him; and, either from the wound it had received, or frightened by our shouts, it suddenly turned round, with a whisk of its tail, and darted away from Blackie.
We immediately dashed on, in spite of the bullets. The black was close alongside, when I saw the monster’s huge form gliding like lightning beneath the surface; his head rising just as, with a violent jerk, we drew the poor fellow into the boat. The disappointed brute made a grab at one of the oars in revenge, though he got nothing but a broken tooth for his pains.
Without stopping to ask questions, Mudge put the boat round, and pulled away for the ship, fortunately not one of us being hit, while the enemy in the bush quickly vanished. As soon as we were out of the line of fire, one of the ship’s guns, loaded with grape, was let fly at the spot from which the shots had come, and greatly contributed to the rapid retreat of Blackie’s pursuers, whoever they were—at all events, of those of them who escaped being hit; but whether any were so, we could not tell. As soon as the boat got alongside, the black sprang on board with considerable activity, showing that he was none the worse for his run and subsequent swim. There he stood, naked as he was born; when an old quartermaster, a wag in his way, brought him a pair of duck trousers, evidently considering that he was not fit, as he then stood, to appear on the quarter-deck of a British man-of-war. Blackie put them on with a grin, shook the water out of his woolly pate, and then, with an air of perfect self-possession, walked aft to where the commander and several of the other officers were standing.
“Me Dicky Popo, please, sar,” he said, giving a haul at his hair; “me loyal British subject—once serve His Majesty—but de nigger slave-catchers find me ashore, carry me off, and sell me to still bigger rascals. Dey ship me aboard wid oder slaves; and den a bigger rascal still take de whole of us on board de Sea-Hawk dere. I seed dat somefing was wrong when dey run up de river, and den I find out dat an English ship chase dem, and come to an anchor inside de bar; den I tink if I run away and get aboard English ship, I know I safe under dat flag.”
As he spoke he pointed to the ensign blowing out from the flagstaff astern. Finding that Dicky Popo, as the black called himself, understood English pretty well, the commander questioned him further, and learned many more particulars about the ship we had just chased. She was the Sea-Hawk, belonging to Havana, fully as large as the Heroine, with as numerous a crew, and carrying two more guns than we did; so that, if well fought, she would prove a formidable antagonist. She had already captured a vessel which had, Dicky Popo said, about a hundred and fifty slaves on board, and was waylaying another, when we somewhat put out her arrangements, and obliged her to run up the very river in which the schooner she had intended to capture was lying. The pirate, not telling the captain of the schooner of his intentions, had persuaded him to assist in defending his vessel in case they should be attacked. For this purpose they had both landed some of their men and guns; and he had also sent on shore the strongest among the slaves, to assist in throwing up fortifications. Dicky Popo, hearing that the corvette had entered the river, took the opportunity, while so engaged, of slipping off, in the hope of getting on board; resolved, should he regain his liberty, to give us information of the preparations made for our reception.
I liked the expression of Dick’s countenance, and was certain from the first that he was an honest fellow. He had been kindly treated on board a man-of-war in which he had served—having been rescued from slavery by her; and he was truly grateful to the English, and anxious practically to show his gratitude. I do not believe the person who talks of his grateful heart, when he takes no pains to exhibit it.
The captain was in no way inclined to change his purpose on hearing of the preparations made by the slavers for their defence. “I know that I can trust to our stout fellows, who will bravely do their duty; while our rascally enemies are fighting with halters round their necks,” he observed to Mr Worthy.
“No doubt about that, sir,” was the answer; “and I hope that it will not take us long to capture the pirate, in spite of the battery on shore, and the assistance the slave-schooner may give her.”
Soon after Dicky Popo had made his appearance on deck, night came on. Notwithstanding the preparations the pirates had been making for their defence, the commander expressed his opinion that they might try to slip by us and get out to sea during the darkness, rather than wait our attack in the river. A sharp look-out was therefore kept, the anchor was hove short, and the watch below lay down on deck, so as to be ready to make sail at a moment’s notice. A boat was also sent some way ahead to row guard, and bring us early information should either of the vessels be seen coming down. We knew, of course, that the pirates were aware of our exact position, but they could not tell that a boat was also watching for them.
The greater part of the night passed by quietly. The middle watch had nearly come to an end when the boat’s oars were heard, and she shortly after dashed up alongside. “The ship is coming down, and will be abreast of us in a few minutes,” said the officer in command. “She was shortening sail when we caught sight of her, and she hopes to escape being seen by dropping past us under bare poles.”
On hearing this, the captain gave the order to make sail; and slipping our cable with a buoy to it, so that we might easily pick it up, we stood towards the centre of the river. In another minute we caught sight of the tall masts of the pirate, gliding down with the current, not many cable-lengths off. It was impossible for her to return; and should she bring up, we might sail round her and fire at her at our leisure. On discovering us (which she must have done some time before, as we, being under sail, must have been seen before we could make her out), she had begun to set her canvas. That availed her but little, however, as we now had her within range of our guns; which, the captain giving the order, began firing away as rapidly as they could be run in and loaded. She immediately fired in return from her foremost guns, the only ones which for some minutes could be brought to bear on us, as we were, it will be understood, standing across the river directly ahead of her. Her sails being let fall, she soon got abreast of us; when we went about, and passing directly under her stern, so closely that I thought we were going to run her aboard, fired the whole of our broadside into her; we during the operation having received only two or three shots, which did no material damage. Shrieks and cries arose from her deck, proving the fearful havoc produced by our raking fire; while several halyards and braces having been shot away on board her, and only part of her canvas having been set, we again kept away, speedily got up alongside her, and poured in another well-directed broadside. She returned a feeble fire; many of her crew at the guns having been, we had thus good reason to suppose, killed or disabled by our shot. We, having all our canvas set, were running ahead of her, the captain intending to luff across her bows, and to pour in another raking fire, when we heard a voice from her forecastle shouting, in broken English, “We give in—we haul down flag—don’t fire, don’t fire!”
“Let go your anchor, then, and bring up, or I’ll not trust you,” shouted the captain.
The sound of voices in loud altercation now reached us, some apparently crying out one thing, and some another, in Spanish; while we were steering so as to keep on the weather bow of the pirate.
“Stand by,—brace up the yards,” cried the captain in a loud voice, so that the Spaniards might hear him. “Do you yield, or I fire?” he shouted.
“Yes, yes,” answered a voice.
Immediately the sheets were let fly, and the splash of the anchor and the sound of the cable running out reached our ears above the hubbub still going forward on deck, when the ship slowly swung round to the current. We immediately hauled our wind, and having good way, went about and shot up abreast of our opponent, whom we thus had completely in our power.
As soon as we had furled sails, two boats were lowered; Mr Worthy going in command of one, and Peter Mudge of the other, the crews being well-armed. As I was the midshipman of the lieutenant’s boat, I accompanied him.
No opposition was offered, though no assistance was given, to us, as we got alongside. We quickly, however, scrambled up on deck, which, by the light of several lanterns carried by the men, presented an appearance such as I had never before pictured to myself. The first step I made, my foot slipped and I nearly fell. On the light falling on the spot, I found that I was literally standing in blood. Twenty or more human forms lay stretched out motionless, while others were gathered round the masts or leaning against the guns, endeavouring to bind up their wounds. One group stood aft in sullen silence awaiting our coming, while the remainder of the crew were collected forward. By their dress we saw that most of those aft were officers.
“Where is the captain of this ship?” asked Lieutenant Worthy.
One of them pointed to a body which lay between two of the guns, with part of the chest and one of the arms carried away.
“Poor wretch!” observed the lieutenant. “He will not then have to answer to us for his misdeeds. And are you the officer in command?”
The man to whom he spoke bowed his head, and, advancing, presented his sword.
“Take his weapon,” said the lieutenant, turning to one of the men; “and disarm all the rest. I shall not receive the sword of a pirate, as if he were a naval officer.”
The whole of the party were quickly disarmed, and by the lieutenant’s orders our men then lashed their arms behind them. Peter Mudge with his boat’s crew had, in the meantime, made their way along the slippery deck forward, when he treated the men collected there in the same fashion. Mr Worthy then hailed the corvette, and begged that the surgeons might be sent on board to attend to the wounded; and those who appeared to be officers were lowered into the boat which brought them, to be conveyed to the ship for safe keeping.
While the surgeons were hurriedly binding up the limbs of the wounded men, we were engaged in collecting the dead bodies, that they might be hove overboard. On counting them, we found that five-and-twenty had been killed outright; and one by one, after the surgeon had examined them, they were thrown into the water through the ports.
“Here’s another fellow, sir, who seemed just now as dead as a door-nail; but as I was dragging him along the deck he began to sing out, and to swear by all the saints that he was alive and kicking; and, faith, that same he was, for I had a hard matter to keep hold of his legs. He’s quiet enough now, though; and for the life of me I can’t tell whether he was after speaking the truth or not.”
This address was made by Paddy Doyle, an Irish top-man, to the surgeon who was examining the bodies before they were hove overboard. The surgeon, thus appealed to, went to the man. “He seems to be unhurt, and is still breathing,” he remarked. “By his dress he appears to be an officer. Throw some water in his face; and keep a watch over him, Doyle, when he comes to, as I have no doubt that he soon will. I must look after the other wretches.”
The dead having been disposed of, and the unwounded prisoners placed under a guard, the wounded were carried into the large and handsome cabin—which, however, could not afford accommodation for all of them; the rest were therefore placed, with such spare bedding as could be found, on the upper slave-deck.
By the time these arrangements were made, it was nearly daylight. A prize crew of twenty men was left on board the Sea-Hawk, with the assistant-surgeon to look after the wounded, the second lieutenant coming on board to take command of them. I was thankful to be ordered to return to the corvette, for I was heartily sick of the scene I had witnessed.
Just as I was going over the side, I heard Paddy Doyle sing out,—“Arrah! my dead man’s come to life again! Bear a hand, and help me to haul him in;” and looking back, I saw that the Irishman’s prisoner had jumped up, and was endeavouring to spring through a port—having watched the moment that Paddy’s back was turned on him. Paddy had seized one of his legs, and was tugging away with might and main; while the Spaniard, with his other foot on the port-sill, had nearly effected his purpose, notwithstanding the Irishman’s desperate efforts to prevent his escape. “Arrah! now he’s done it!” exclaimed Doyle, holding up the Spaniard’s shoe and a piece of his trousers which had come away in his hand.
The man, who was evidently a good swimmer, and had been trusting to this for escape, was striking out at a rapid rate for the shore.
“Give way after him!” cried Lieutenant Worthy to Mudge, who was in the boat on the opposite side to that from which the pirate had escaped.
The boat shoved off, but had to pull ahead of the ship. It was not till then that Mudge could see the swimmer, who had already made considerable progress towards the shore. I jumped into the rigging to watch him. Should he once land, and get in among the thick trees, he might effect his purpose. Possibly he expected to find friends to assist him.
He was still some way ahead of the boat, when I caught a momentary glimpse of the dark fin of a shark. It disappeared, and the next instant a piercing shriek rent the air; the pirate threw up his arms, and sank beneath the surface! Then the boat pulled round and returned to the ship.
Just as I got on board the corvette, a loud sound of tom-toms and horns was heard from the upper part of the river, and presently a fleet of large canoes appeared paddling rapidly towards us. It seemed scarcely possible that they should venture to attack an English man-of-war; and yet, from the gestures of their crews, and the way they came on, such appeared to be their intention. Possibly they had heard the firing, and, taught to believe the Sea-Hawk the most powerful ship afloat, supposed that she had gained the victory. On discovering, however, that she was anchored astern of us, they ceased paddling; then after a short interval regaining courage, they again came on, shrieking and shouting and beating their tom-toms louder than ever, to intimidate us before they attempted to board.
“Fire a shot over their heads,” said the commander. “It will show the ignorant savages that we are not to be trifled with.”
Scarcely had the gun been discharged, when the canoes were seen paddling away as fast as their black crews could urge them on, each endeavouring as soon as possible to get out of the range of our shot; and in a little time they had disappeared behind the point which had before concealed them from us.
We had still another task to perform—the capture or destruction of the slave-schooner of which Dicky Popo had told us. As the navigation of the river was intricate and dangerous above where we lay, the commander, unwilling to risk the safety of the ship, resolved to send up the boats, notwithstanding the assistance which the canoes might be expected to afford her. Three were accordingly sent away under the command of Mr Worthy, with whom I went; the pinnace having a six-pounder in the bows, and the others being armed with swivels. We soon came in sight of the canoes, with the schooner at anchor some distance beyond them. A shot from our six-pounder quickly sent them paddling away up the stream. Popo, who had been taken in our boat to point out where the battery had been thrown up, directly afterwards exclaimed,—“Dere!—dere it is!”
Scarcely had he spoken, when a shot came whizzing over our heads. At our lieutenant’s orders, the boats’ heads were immediately turned towards the battery, when, our gun being fired at it, we rapidly pulled on. We quickly reached the bank; and the lieutenant, whose example I imitated, leaped on shore, calling to the small-arm men to follow him. In a few seconds we were scrambling into the battery, the Spaniards and blacks who had just before been in it making their escape helter-skelter into the thick wood behind it. A few of the white men—who, to do them credit, were the last to run—were shot or cut down, but the greater number made their escape,—our lieutenant wisely not allowing us to follow. Five guns found in the battery were spiked, upon which we immediately re-embarked and pulled away towards the schooner.
We had not got many fathoms from the shore, however, when a thick smoke was seen issuing from her hatches, followed by flames which burst out from every part. We pulled on, in the hope of being able to extinguish them; for she appeared to be a remarkably fine vessel, and would have proved a prize worth capture. Before we got up to her, however, the lieutenant ordered the men to back their oars. And not too soon. The boats had still some way on them, when up went the masts and deck of the schooner, numerous fragments falling close around us. The flames raged furiously for a few minutes longer, after which the hull of the lightly-built vessel, shattered by the explosion, sank beneath the surface. What had become of the unfortunate slaves we could not tell; but it was to be hoped, for the sake of humanity, that all had been landed. One thing was very certain,—that we should be unable to capture any of them should we land, as they would all have been driven up into the interior. We therefore pulled back to the ship; and the breeze blowing strongly down the river, she and our prize were got under way, and we stood towards its mouth.
The water on the bar being tolerably smooth, we got out without difficulty, and shortly afterwards sighted a sail beating up towards the land. She was made out to be a frigate, and proved to be that of the commodore on the station, who had also heard of the pirate, and was come to look for her. He complimented our commander on his conduct in the affair, and, greatly to our satisfaction, relieved us of our prisoners, as also of the charge of our prize, directing us to proceed on our voyage to the westward.
Dicky Popo, who had been entered on board, remained with us, and became a great favourite both with officers and men.
It was not till long afterwards that I heard of the fate of the Sea-Hawk and the survivors of her piratical crew.