No one could have mistaken her character as a vessel of war, for, besides the guns referred to, she had an unusually large crew of bronzed and stalwart men. Their costume, as well as their arms, told that these were of Eastern origin. Although there was much variety in detail, they all wore the same gold-laced jackets, the same loose Turkish drawers gathered in below the knees, and broad silken scarfs round their waists, with richly chased silver-mounted pistols and yataghans or curved swords. Some wore the turban, others the blue-tasselled red fez or tarbouch of Tunis, while a few contented themselves with a kerchief tied loosely round their heads.
One, who appeared to be the captain of the vessel, stood near the steersman, leaning on the bulwarks, and scanning the horizon with a telescope. His costume was similar to that of his men, but of richer material.
“It is certainly a sail,” said he whom we have styled the captain to one who stood by his side, and might have been his lieutenant or mate.
“She bears sou’-west, I think,” replied the latter.
“So much the better,” returned the captain; “let her fall off a little—so, steady. If this wind holds for half an hour we shall get well abreast of her, and then—”
The captain shut up the telescope with an emphatic bang, by way of termination to his remark, and, turning on his heel, paced the deck rapidly by the side of his mate.
“We have been unlucky hitherto,” he observed; “perchance fortune may change and now be favourable. At all events, we shall be ready. See, the breeze freshens. Go, call up the men and clear for action.”
The breeze had indeed been freshening while he spoke, and now came down in a series of squalls that caused the piratical-looking craft to lie over as if she were about to capsize. The vessel which they were pursuing also bent over to the breeze and crowded all sail; for well did Francisco, its owner and padrone, know, from past experience, that Algerine corsairs were fast sailers, and that his only hope lay in showing them his heels! He had often given them the slip before—why should he not again?
While thus doing his best to escape, however, the bluff merchant did not neglect to make preparations for defence.
“Clear away the big gun,” he said to Mariano, who acted as his first officer, Lucien being the scrivano or supercargo of the vessel; “’tis a good piece, and has turned the flight of many a pirate with its first bark.”
The latter part of this remark was addressed to Bacri, who stood, leaning over the taffrail, looking anxiously at the vessel in chase.
“If it be Sidi Hassan,” muttered the Jew half aloud, “there is little chance—”
“What say you?” demanded Francisco.
“I say that if it be the vessel of a man whom I happen to know, you will have to trust to your sails for deliverance—fighting will be of no avail.”
Francisco looked at the Jew with some surprise, not unmingled with contempt.
“A warlike spirit, it seems, does not always consort with a powerful frame,” he said; “but how come you to have scraped acquaintance with these pirates, whose existence is a blight upon the commerce of the Mediterranean, and a disgrace to our age?”
“None should know better than thyself that a trader, like any other traveller, becomes acquainted with strange bedfellows,” replied Bacri, with a quiet smile. “As to a warlike spirit, of what use would it be in a despised Israelite to display such?”
“There is truth in that,” returned the padrone in a more respectful tone; “nevertheless, if fighting becomes needful, I trust that one furnished with such thews and sinews will not fail to lend effective aid.”
“That he will not, I dare say; and here is a cutlass for him, wherewith to carve a name and fame,” said Mariano, coming aft at the moment and presenting the weapon to Bacri, who took it with a half-humorous smile, and laid it on the seat beside him.
“Hast got the big gun ready, boy?” demanded Francisco.
“Ay—loaded her almost to the muzzle. I ordered her to be double-shotted, and that big black rascal Manqua slily crammed in a handful of nails without leave. I only hope she won’t burst.”
“Burst!” exclaimed the padrone, with a laugh; “if you were to load her even beyond the muzzle she wouldn’t burst. I remember once loading her with a full dose of canister, and clapped two round shot on the top of that, after which the same negro you have mentioned, (for he has a tendency in that way), shoved in a handspike without orders, and let the whole concern fly at a pirate boat, which it blew clean out of the water: she well-nigh burst the drums of our ears on that occasion, but showed no sign whatever of bursting herself.”
“Nevertheless,” said Bacri earnestly, “I advise you to trust entirely to your sails.”
“We haven’t another stitch of canvas to set,” said Francisco in reply; “and if we had, the old schooner couldn’t stand it, for, as you may see, the strain is already as much as she can bear.”
This was indeed the case, for the vessel was by that time flying before a stiff breeze, with all the sail set that she could carry, while the water dashed in clouds from her bows, and rushed over her lee bulwarks.
But the sailing powers of the pirate-vessel were superior to those of the trading schooner. In a short time she was close alongside, and fired a shot across her bows to cause her to heave-to. This, however, the determined skipper resolved not to do. In reply he sent on board the pirates the varied contents of the big gun, which cut the halyards of their smaller sail, and brought it down on the deck. This result was celebrated by a hearty cheer from the schooner’s crew. The pirates, in return, discharged a broadside which cut away the foremast of the schooner, thus rendering escape impossible.
“Now, men,” cried Francisco, when the disaster occurred, “you must this day make your choice—victory or slavery—for there is no mercy in the breasts of these scoundrels.”
He waited for no reply, but at once sprang to the big gun, which had been re-loaded with a charge so miscellaneous that the sable Manqua grinned with satisfaction as he endeavoured to ram it home.
Meanwhile Mariano and Lucien placed the men, who were armed to the teeth, at the gangways, and along the weather-side of the schooner, to be in readiness to repel the foe when they should attempt to board.
There was no hesitation on the part of the pirates, although they saw plainly the vigorous preparations which were being made to receive them. Bearing down on the crippled vessel at full speed, in spite of the bellowing discharge from the great gun, and a well-delivered volley of small shot, which stretched many of them on the deck, they ran straight against her, threw grappling-irons into the rigging, and sprang on board with a fierce yell.
The mêlée that followed was sharp, but very short and decisive. The Sicilian crew fought with the courage of desperate men, but were almost instantly overpowered by numbers. Mariano had singled out the pirate captain as his own special foe. In making towards the spot where he expected that he would board, he observed the tall Jew standing by the wheel with his arms crossed on his breast, and regarding the attack with apparent indifference.
“What!” cried Mariano, anger mingling with his surprise, “do you stand idle at such a moment?”
“You will miss your chance,” returned Bacri, giving a glance and a nod towards the side of the vessel where the pirate captain stood ready to spring.
Almost at the instant that the brief hint was given, Mariano had sprung to the bulwarks, and parried the thrust of a boarding-spike, which act unfortunately disconcerted his aim in discharging his pistol. Next moment he had seized the pirate by the throat, and fell with him to the deck, where a fierce struggle ensued.
We have said that the Sicilian youth was powerfully made, but the pirate captain was more than a match for him in size, if not in courage; nevertheless, the superior activity of Mariano, coupled with the fact that he chanced to fall uppermost, gave him an advantage which would in a few moments have cost the pirate his life, had not a blow from behind rendered his youthful adversary insensible.
Rising hastily and regaining the yataghan which had fallen from his grasp in the struggle, the pirate captain was about to rush again into the fight, but, perceiving that although one or two of the schooner’s crew still showed resistance, his men were almost everywhere in possession of the deck, he desisted, and turned with a look of surprise to the man who had freed him from his antagonist.
“You here, Bacri!” he said. “Truly my fate is a hard one when it condemns me to be rescued by a dog of a Jew.”
“It might have been harder, Sidi Hassan, if it had condemned you to be slain by the hand of a Christian,” replied the Jew, with an air of humility that scarcely harmonised with his towering height and his breadth of shoulder.
Hassan uttered a short laugh, and was about to reply when a shout from his men caused him to run to the forward part of the vessel, where Francisco, Lucien, and the warlike negro already referred to were still fighting desperately, surrounded by pirates, many of whom were badly wounded. It was well for the three heroes that their foes had discharged all their pistols at the first rush. Some of them, now rendered furious by the unexpectedly successful opposition made by the dauntless three, as well as by the smarting of their wounds, were hastily re-loading their weapons, when their captain came forward. It was obvious that mercy or forbearance had been driven from their breasts, and that a few seconds more would put a bloody end to the unequal contest.
“Spare them, Sidi Hassan,” said the Jew in a deeply earnest tone.
“Why should I spare them?” returned the captain quietly; “they deserve to die, and such men would prove to be but troublesome slaves.”
The Jew bent towards Hassan’s ear and whispered.
“Ha! sayest thou so?” exclaimed the pirate, with a piercing glance at his companion. “May I trust thee, Jew?”
“You may trust me,” replied the Jew, apparently quite unmoved by the insolent tones of the other.
“Stand back, men!” cried Hassan, springing between the combatants; “death by sword or pistol is too good for these Christian dogs; we shall reserve them for something better.” Then, turning to Francisco, “Lay down your arms.”
“We will lay down our arms,” answered the bluff merchant, who was not at all sorry to obtain this brief period of breathing-time, “when we have laid you and a few more of your ruffians on the deck.”
Hassan turned to his men and gave them an order in the Turkish language.
Several of them hurried aft, and immediately returned, dragging along with them poor Mariano, who was just recovering from the blow given to him by Bacri. On seeing the plight of his father and brother he made a desperate effort to free himself, but quickly found that he was as helpless as a child in the grasp of the three powerful men who held him.
Hassan drew a pistol and put its muzzle to the youth’s temple, then, turning to Francisco, said:—
“Lay down your arms, else I scatter his brains on the deck. Take your choice, but see that you be quick about it.”
There was that in the pirate captain’s tone and look which induced instant compliance. Francisco and his companions, at once laying down their weapons, were seized and had their arms pinioned. Mariano was also bound, and then their conquerors proceeded to clear the decks of the dead and wounded. This was soon accomplished; a prize crew was placed in the schooner; the captives, still pinioned, were transferred to the deck of the pirate-vessel, and there left to do as they pleased, while the captain and Bacri descended to the cabin.
Night soon after descended on the sea, the wind fell almost to a calm, the moon shone round and full in a cloudless sky, and the vessel glided quietly along, while the rascally crew lay conversing and smoking on her deck, many of them bearing marks of the recent conflict, and some sleeping as peacefully as though their hands were guiltless of shedding human blood, and legitimate trade their occupation.
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