The instant that Captain Montague stepped over the side of the schooner, a handkerchief was pressed tightly over his mouth and nose. At the same time, he was seized by four strong men and rendered utterly powerless. The thing was done so promptly and silently, that the men who remained in the gig heard no unusual sound.
“I’m sorry to treat a guest so roughly, Captain Montague,” said Gascoyne, in a low tone, as the unfortunate officer was carried aft, “but the safety of my vessel requires it. They will carry you to my state-room, where you will find my steward exceedingly attentive and obliging, but, let me warn you, he is peculiarly ready with the butt end of his pistol at times, especially when men are inclined to make unnecessary noise.” He turned on his heel as he said this and went forward, looking over the side in passing and telling the crew of the gig to remain where they were till their captain should call them.
This order the men felt constrained to obey, although they were surprised that the captain himself had not given it on quitting the boat; their suspicions were farther awakened by the active operations going on upon deck. The sounds apprised them of these for the bulwarks hid everything from view. At length, when they heard the cable slipping through the hawse-hole, they could stand it no longer, but sprang up the side in a body. Of course they were met by men well prepared. As they were armed only with cutlasses, the pirates quickly overcame them and threw them into the sea.
All further attempt at concealment was now abandoned. The man-of-war’s boat, when it came up, was received with a shot from Long Tom, which grazed its side, carried away four of the starboard oars, and just missed dashing it to pieces by a mere hair’s-breadth. At the same time the sails of the schooner were shaken out and filled by the light breeze, which, for nearly an hour, had been blowing off shore.
As the coming up of the gig and the large boat had occurred on that side of the schooner that was farthest from the Talisman, those on board of the latter vessel could not make out clearly what had occurred. That the schooner was a pirate was now clearly evident, for the red griffin and stripe were suddenly displayed as well as the blood-red flag; but the first lieutenant did not dare to fire on her while the boats were so near. He slipped the cable, however, and made instant sail on the ship, and when he saw the large boat and the gig drop astern of the schooner—the former in a disabled condition—he commenced firing as fast as he could load; not doubting that his captain was in his own boat.
At such short range the shot flew around the pirate schooner like hail, but she appeared to bear a charmed existence, for, although they whistled between her spars and struck the sea all around her, very few indeed did her serious damage. The shots from Long Tom, on the other hand, were well aimed, and told with terrible effect on the hull and rigging of the frigate. Gascoyne himself pointed the gun, and his bright eye flashed, and a grim smile played on his lips as the shots whistled round his head.
The pirate captain seemed to be possessed by a spirit of fierce and reckless jovialty that day. His usual calm self-possessed demeanour quite forsook him. He issued his orders in a voice of thunder and with an air of what, for want of a better expression, we may term ferocious heartiness. He generally executed these orders himself, hurling the men violently out of his way as if he were indignant at their tardiness, although they sprang to obey as actively as usual—indeed more so, for they were overawed and somewhat alarmed by this unwonted conduct on the part of their captain.
The fact was, that Gascoyne had for a long time past desired to give up his course of life and amend his ways, but he discovered, as all wicked men discover sooner or later, that while it is easy to plunge into evil courses it is by no means easy—on the contrary it is extremely difficult—to give them up. He had formed his resolution and had laid his plans; but all his plans had miscarried. Being a man of high temper he had been driven almost to desperation, and sought relief to his feelings in physical exertion.
Of all the men in the Avenger, however, no one was so much alarmed by the captain’s conduct as the first mate, between whom and Gascoyne there had been a bitter feeling for some time past; and Manton knew (at least he believed) that it would be certain death to him if he should chance to thwart his superior in the mood in which he then was.
“That was a good shot, Manton,” said Gascoyne, with a wild laugh, as the fore-topsail yard of the Talisman came rattling down on the deck, having been cut away by a shot from Long Tom.
“It was, but that was a better one,” said Manton, pointing to the boom of the schooner’s mainsail, which was cut in two by a round shot, just as the captain spoke.
“Good, very good,” observed the latter with an approving nod; “but that alters the game; down with the helm! steady!”
“Get the wreck of that boom cleared away, Manton, we won’t want the mainsail long. Here comes a squall. Look sharp. Close reef topsails.”
The boom was swaying to and fro so violently, that three of the men who sprang to obey the order were hurled by it into the lee scuppers. Gascoyne darted towards the broken spar and held it fast, while Manton quickly severed the ropes that fastened it to the sail and to the deck, then the former hurled it over the side with as much ease as if it had been an oar.
“Let her away now.”
“Why, that will run us right into the Long Shoal!” exclaimed Manton, anxiously, as the squall which had been approaching struck the schooner and laid her almost on her beam ends.
“I know it,” replied Gascoyne, curtly, as he thrust aside the man at the wheel and took the spokes in his own hands.
“It’s all we can do to find our way through that place in fine weather,” remonstrated the mate.
“I know it,” said Gascoyne, sternly.
Scraggs, who chanced to be standing by, seemed to be immensely delighted with the alarmed expression on Manton’s face. The worthy second mate hated the first mate so cordially, and attached so little value to his own life, that he would willingly have run the schooner on the rocks altogether, just to have the pleasure of laughing contemptuously at the wreck of Manton’s hopes.
“It’s worth while trying it,” suggested Scraggs, with a malicious grin.
“I mean to try it,” said Gascoyne, calmly.
“But there’s not a spot in the shoal except the Eel’s Gate that we’ve a ghost of a chance of getting through,” cried Manton, becoming excited as the schooner dashed towards the breakers like a furious charger rushing on destruction.
“I know it.”
“And there’s barely water on that to float us over,” he added, striding forward, and laying a hand on the wheel.
“Half-a-foot too little,” said Gascoyne, with forced calmness.
Scraggs grinned.
“You shan’t run us aground if I can prevent it,” cried Manton, fiercely, seizing the wheel with both hands and attempting to move it, in which attempt he utterly failed, and Scraggs grinned broader than ever.
“Remove your hands,” said Gascoyne, in a low calm voice, which surprised the men who were standing near and witnessed these proceedings.
“I won’t. Ho! lads, do you wish to be sent to the bottom by a—”
The remainder of this speech was cut short by the sudden descent of Gascoyne’s knuckles on the forehead of the mate, who dropped on the deck as if he had been felled with a sledge hammer. Scraggs laughed outright with satisfaction.
“Remove him,” said Gascoyne.
“Overboard?” inquired Scraggs, with a bland smile.
“Below,” said the captain; and Scraggs was fain to content himself with carrying the insensible form of his superior officer to his berth, taking pains, however, to bump his head carefully against every spar and corner and otherwise convenient projection on the way down.
In a few minutes more the schooner was rushing through the milk-white foam that covered the dangerous coral reef named the Long Shoals, and the Talisman lay-to, not daring to venture into such a place, but pouring shot and shell into her bold little adversary with terrible effect, as her tattered sails and flying cordage shewed. The fire was steadily replied to by Long Tom, whose heavy shots, came crashing repeatedly through the hull of the man-of-war.
The large boat, meanwhile, had been picked up by the Talisman, after having rescued Mr Mason and Henry, both of whom were placed in the gig. This light boat was now struggling to make the ship, but owing to the strength of the squall, her diminished crew were unable to effect this; they therefore ran ashore to await the issue of the fight and the storm.
For some time the Avenger stood on her wild course unharmed, passing close to huge rocks on either side of her, over which the sea burst in clouds of foam. Gascoyne still stood at the wheel, guiding the vessel with consummate skill and daring, while the men looked on in awe and in breathless expectation, quite regardless of the shot which flew around them and altogether absorbed by the superior danger by which they were menaced.
The surface of the sea was so universally white, that there was no line of dark water to guide the pirate captain on his bold and desperate course. He was obliged to trust almost entirely to his intimate knowledge of the coast, and to the occasional patches in the surrounding waste where the comparative flatness of the boiling flood indicated less shallow water. As the danger increased, the smile left Gascoyne’s lips, but the flashing of his bright eyes and his deepened colour shewed that the spirit boiled within, almost as wildly as the ocean raged around him.
The centre of the shoal was gained, and a feeling of hope and exultation began to rise in the breasts of the crew when a terrific shock caused the little schooner to quiver from stem to stern, while an involuntary cry burst from the men, many of whom were thrown violently on the deck. At the same time a shot from the Talisman came in through the stern bulwarks, struck the wheel and carried it away with part of the tackle attached to the tiller.
“Another leap like that, lass, and you’re over,” cried Gascoyne, with a light smile, as he sprang to the iron tiller, and, seizing it with his strong hands, steered the schooner as if she had been a boat.
“Get new tackle rove, Scraggs,” said he, cheerfully, “I’ll keep her straight for Eel’s Gate with this. That was the first bar of the gate—there are only two altogether, and the second won’t be so bad.”
As the captain spoke, the schooner seemed to recover from the shock and again rushed forward on her foaming course; but before the men had time to breathe, she struck again—this time less violently, as had been predicted—and the next wave, lifting her over the shoal, launched her into deep water.
“There, that will do,” said Gascoyne, resigning the helm to Scraggs. “You can keep her as she goes; there’s plenty of water now and no fear of that big bully following us. Meanwhile, I will go below and see to the welfare of our passengers.”
Gascoyne was wrong in supposing that the Talisman would not follow. She could not, indeed, follow in the same course, but the moment that Mulroy observed that the pirate had passed the shoals in safety, he stood inshore, and, without waiting to pick up the gig, traversed the channel by which they had entered the bay. Then, trusting to the lead and to his knowledge of the general appearance of shallows, he steered carefully along until he cleared the reefs and finally stood out to sea.
In less than half-an-hour afterwards, the party on shore beheld the two vessels disappear among the black storm-clouds that gathered over the distant horizon.
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