The Corsair King Part 14

They sat together in the little house, the grandmother, in her armchair, telling marvelous, terrible tales of famous warriors; the young girls casting timid glances at the windows, where the darkness of the gathering night appeared, and the fire on the hearth died slowly, while William's heart began to swell with eager desire to battle with these unknown perils, and win for himself a name like those of the heroes glorified by tradition. How softly the palms were whispering!

The moon shone brilliantly. The moonlight nights of the South are brighter than the days of the North. His Julietta, clinging to him, murmured tenderly: "How I love you; we will live and die together."

William's head sank on his breast, and he fancied he clasped in his arms the whole kingdom of heaven. How softly the palms were whispering!

The young girl sat on the green sh.o.r.e; her white kerchief fluttered in the wind as she waited every evening for the ship on which her lover had sailed, waited with yearning and prayers. How her heart leaped when, on the distant horizon, she fancied she recognized the slender masts that appeared before her, and measured in her imagination, a hundred times over, the s.p.a.ce which yawned between them. Her bosom heaved, her soul burned with joy and, as it came nearer and nearer, she threw kisses--

"What ship is that?" shouted Moody's harsh, strident tones close beside Barthelemy.

Roused from his waking dream, he cast a half startled, half angry glance at the speaker.

"What ship do you mean?"

"The one at which you have been looking steadily for half an hour, the sail appearing yonder on the horizon."

Barthelemy now, for the first time, noticed a vessel whose outlines had blended with the ship seen in his dream, and which seemed to be swiftly approaching.

"Oho! Off with the Fox-Hound!" he cried. "Forward, my lads!"

"Not to-night," shouted one of the crew from the other ship, "the Royal Fortune ought to go. You have drunk enough, we are sober; and even my grandfather's spook wouldn't fight sober."

"What talk is this?"

"The talk that came to us to-night from the rum and sugar, when even the fish got punch from the Royal Fortune."

"You rascals, do I manufacture sugar and brandy that you ask me for it?

When the supply is exhausted, get more. Wherever a Portuguese galleon appears on the horizon, you can find all the sugar you want. Follow her and drink your fill."

Meanwhile the vessel had come so near that they could count all her sails in the bright moonbeams; then she tacked and began to recede.

"Follow her!" shouted Barthelemy; "See, she has discovered us and wants to escape. Skyrme, quick, don't let her elude us. Up, up, to the chase my lads!"

The Fox-Hound instantly unfurled every sail; the crew of the larger ship, greedy for prey, rushed on her deck and, aided by a favorable wind, the pursuit of the unknown ship began, which, overhauled more and more by the Fox-Hound, soon disappeared with it below the horizon.

The fugitive was the Swallow, the formidable English man-of-war, commanded by two of the bravest captains, David Oyle and--Rolls.

When Barthelemy had captured all the ships that had been sent against him, the Swallow sailed out alone to seek and conquer him.

On reaching the harbor, they saw in the distance the pirate ships, which were easily recognized, and wanted to attack them at once, but were obliged first to sail around a large shoal known as the "French Sand-bank," and the pirates, mistaking this circuit for flight, rushed in pursuit.

The Swallow merely sailed far enough out to sea to lure the Fox-Hound to a point where the cannonading could not be heard on land, and then allowed herself to be overtaken.

Suddenly the pirates, with loud shouts, ran up the black flag and dashed with the speed of an arrow toward the Swallow. Skyrme stood in the bow, holding his grappling iron ready.

"Barthelemy and death!" roared the whole band.

At the same moment the cannon of the British ship, with a terrible thunder, sent a devastating volley upon the deck of the Fox-Hound, veiling her in a cloud of smoke.

As soon as it lifted, the pirates were seen standing as if dazed by the thunderbolt which had fallen upon them. The deck was strewn with mangled corpses, the black flag was shot from the mast. Skyrme alone had retained his presence of mind.

"Forward, you knaves!" he roared furiously, "what are you staring at? Up with the flag again, and throw your grappling irons."

The pirates quickly hauled up the flag, and Skyrme's stentorian voice shouted: "Forward!"

A second volley thundered down upon them from the British cannon. The flag fell a second time, and with it Skyrme, whose legs were torn off by a cannon ball. The pirates lost their self-control, and rushing to the man at the helm, forced him to turn and spread their sails for flight.

"Do not yield," roared Skyrme, clinging to the mast. "Shame and disgrace upon you! Stick to the ship, and rush upon her decks. Die the death of heroes!"

The pirates, with a last outburst of daring, began to urge the Fox-Hound toward the Swallow, and had almost succeeded in reaching it with their grappling irons, when a third volley echoed on the air. The main-mast was shattered and fell with all the rigging, into the sea.

They were lost. They could fight no longer.

"Throw the flag into the water that it may not fall into the hands of the enemy!" gasped Skyrme, only half of whose gigantic body remained.

"Go to the powder room and fire among the kegs!"

Five pirates, with loaded pistols, instantly leaped below, and at the end of a minute, with a roar like thunder, a cloud of smoke rose into the air; otherwise there was no harm done. There was not powder enough to shatter the ship. The five pirates lay in the hold, burnt and swearing, as black as if they had been transformed into devils in advance. The explosion threw the helmsman flat on the deck and, as if he had no other care on his mind, he screamed for his hat, which had gone overboard.

The Englishmen instantly took possession of the wreck, whose deck was strewn with the dead and wounded.

The latter were raised and cared for.

"Don't touch me!" shrieked Skyrme in a frenzy of rage, and seizing a sabre in each hand he began a desperate struggle. The bravest soldiers could scarcely succeed in disarming the mangled giant, who, when his huge hands were chained in order to bind up his wounds, tore off the bandages with his fetters and, by a last tremendous exertion of strength, burst them and--died.

Meanwhile, in order not to waste time, Barthelemy captured a ship coming from India. Her captain, Jonathan Hill, was a jovial fellow who, accepting the pirate's invitation, sat down to breakfast with him, became very friendly after his first gla.s.s of wine, and when the second was emptied, asked the company to drink for a wager, in which contest he vowed to land them all under the table.

During this n.o.ble rivalry every man was called upon for his favorite song. Hill had two or three.

"Now let us have _your_ favorite, Barthelemy!" he said at last, turning to the pirate chief.

"I cannot sing," replied Barthelemy.

"Oho! But you ought at least to learn the one which is being sung everywhere about you; for instance this:

"Far, far away the white dove flies, In fierce pursuit the black hawk hies; The dove is my lover so dear, The hawk is the pirate I fear."

Barthelemy shuddered.

"Where did you hear that song?"

"Ha! ha! my friend, from a wonderfully beautiful girl, of whom your soul must not even dream; it's a pity that she was in love with someone else."

"Speak! when? where?"

"Well, it was a romantic adventure. I had just anch.o.r.ed off the coast of Hispaniola when the negroes in San Domingo rose against their masters. I had gone on sh.o.r.e with twenty men to get some fresh water, when I heard a shriek in the distance. 'Let's go there!' I said to my companions, 'we'll help if there is need'; and seizing our guns we rushed toward the sound. Three young girls came from behind the hill, pursued by three hundred negroes. The black rascals, shouting and yelling, were fast gaining upon them. The girls could not run fast enough, for they were dragging a large armchair in which sat an old woman. 'Fire!' I shouted, and we sent a volley among the black devils. They scattered, and before they could gather again, we had seized the poor hunted women and rushed to our boats with them. The beautiful girl was as light as a bird, I can tell you. I could have carried her in my arms to the ends of the earth."