Adventures in Many Lands Part 28

"Well, sixteen years ago to-night--steady, cap'n!" for the man had staggered as though from the effect of a mortal blow.

"Avast! Who and what are you?" The captain's voice was deep and menacing.

"The pilot of Port Creek. I have no other name--at least, it suits me to forget it."

"What was your father?"

"A mariner."

"His name?"

"Wait!" and the pilot luffed till the sails shook. A peculiar vibration pa.s.sed throughout the lugger's timbers, and her way was gently arrested.

"We're aground! You have failed!" cried the captain, and drew a pistol from his belt.

"Wait!" And again the pilot spoke in cold, disdainful tones. One might have counted a hundred. It was terrible suspense. The captain's finger was toying with the trigger of his pistol. The pilot stood immovable, the disdainful smile deepening upon his lips. "Ease off the main-sheet!"

cried he, as he turned his ear to windward. There came a stronger puff of wind, a bigger wave rolled up under the lugger's stern, she lifted, and immediately glided forward--free!

"You lost your reckoning, my lad!" cried the captain.

"A slight error of judgment. The tide has made somewhat less than I antic.i.p.ated."

"What is our position?"

"We sc.r.a.ped on the Sandstone Ledge," grimly. "'Twas a close shave--for me!"

"And did you doubt----"

"No. But put up your pistol and I'll get on with my story--unless you'd rather not listen."

"No, no! Go on!"

The pilot stood steady at the helm, his eyes fixed on the binnacle, each movement of the compa.s.s-needle a sign for his ready hands to obey. Anon a concise order to shift a sail fell from his lips, for in spite of his interrupted conversation with the captain his every action showed a trained alertness.

Again he took up the thread of his story--

"'Twas my father's death made me--what I am." The pause was ominous. "He was one of us--a smuggler."

"Ah!"

"A run had been planned----"

"I----"

"My father was young and daring. To him was entrusted the most venturesome part of the night's work. But I am antic.i.p.ating. He had a rival--a man who sought my mother. But she was true to my father."

"I remember----"

"Steady, cap'n! You may have known him--perchance he was once your friend?"

"No, no!" hoa.r.s.ely. "He--I----"

A bright light suddenly flashed through the fog, and from right ahead.

"A signal?" cried the captain.

"From a friend," and the pilot ported helm. "'Tis a dangerous spot hereabouts, so nothing has been left to chance. We're now abreast of Green Point. Steady, lads, for the next tack!"

Shortly another light flashed right upon the lugger's bows. The pilot jammed over the helm to starboard. There was a slight shock, and something grated along the lugger's side.

"All clear now, cap'n; but 'twas a narrow go. We grazed Rudder Rock! The fool stationed there with the light flashed it a full minute too late!"

"Boy, you must have dealings with----"

"Steady, cap'n! Your nerves are unstrung. Perhaps the conclusion of my story 'll steady them. Well, the venture that was planned was no less than to take the goods in under Black Rock, and have them hauled up the face of the cliff. In the end 'twas safely done--to all but my father.

He had been lowered down to fasten on the bales. Those who were out that night came back saying he had fallen from the cliff. They recovered his body the next day, and they found the piece of rope around the mangled corpse had been cut."

"Ay, by the rocks."

"No, no! A poor fellow who witnessed the act was shot by the hand that cut the rope; but he lived long enough to tell my mother the truth."

"Or a parcel of lies."

"Dying men don't lie, cap'n! I was born that same night. Years afterwards, when I was old enough to understand--when my mother was on her deathbed--she told me the story; and my last word to her was a promise to hunt down my father's murderer."

"And you have failed!" cried the captain.

"Let go the anchor!" cried the pilot. "See, cap'n, I'll bring her head up into the wind, and she'll ride with her sails set. Off with the hatches, my lads!"

A bright light flashed three times from left to right. The pilot took the lantern and waved responsive signals.

"All's well!" cried he. "Cap'n, you will see to the getting up of the goods."

Taken off his guard, the captain stepped to the hatchway, gave a few orders, and seemed to recollect something. But the binnacle light was out, and the pilot had disappeared! The captain caught at the rope by which his boat had been towing astern. It came in without resistance; it had been cut!

"We are betrayed!" cried the captain. "Hark! Friends or foes!" as a number of boats came quickly alongside.

"Surrender in the King's name!" was the response.

The desperate encounter that ensued is written in the history of those lawless times. Suffice it that the captain and his crew paid the full penalty of their many crimes.

The pilot, having fulfilled his vow, was no more seen upon that part of the coast. To have remained would have been to forfeit his life, for the betrayed smugglers had many friends.

But the old chronicles from which I have compiled this story go on to say that he secured a berth in the navy, and years afterwards trod the quarter-deck of a man-of-war.