The Cruise of the Nonsuch Buccaneer Part 18

This was done with very commendable celerity by the men, considering that they were quite new to the ship; and in about twenty minutes the great hempen cable was "up and down," and the sail-trimmers were sent to the sheets and halliards to sheet home and hoist away. Five minutes later the anchor was out of the ground and the _Cristobal Colon_ was adrift and canting.

It was at this moment that Ba.s.set, the captain of soldiers, who had in turn been amusing himself with George's gla.s.s, shouted:

"Do 'e see that. Captain? Thicky galley that we pa.s.sed in harbour last night, her be comin' out. Do 'e think she'm comin' to attack we?"

"Maybe," answered George. "I can't tell. But whether she be or not, we must be ready for her. For she must not be allowed to escape. If she is not sent to attack us, she must be going in search of a.s.sistance; and we must not allow her to slip past us if we can possibly help it. Let me have that gla.s.s, if you please, and, Mr Ba.s.set, get your men under arms forthwith."

Ba.s.set handed over the gla.s.s and ran down the p.o.o.p ladder, shouting as he went for the soldiers to don their armour, take their weapons, and proceed to their several fighting stations. Meanwhile George took the gla.s.s and carefully inspected the galley. She was coming out under the impulse of her oars alone, which looked very much as though she had been dispatched to re-take the galleon, since the wind was fair for her out of the Gulf, and she would at once set her sail if she were bound upon a long voyage. He saw that her forecastle was crowded with soldiers, and that on that same forecastle she carried a culverin round which were grouped the gun's crew, while behind it stood the gunner with linstock in hand. Then, looking beyond these, he descried upon the vessel's p.o.o.p other soldiers, in the midst of which stood a group of some ten or twelve officers in complete armour, with their drawn swords in their hands. The galley was steering as though to intercept the galleon, which had by this time gathered way and was moving somewhat ponderously through the water.

"She means to attack us," muttered George to himself as he lowered his gla.s.s from his eye. Then he flung a quick glance round his own decks, and saw that every eye was anxiously fixed upon him, awaiting his next order. He turned to the helmsman.

"Keep her away a point and get good way upon her," he ordered. "I may want to tack presently, and it will not do for us to miss stays, with that galley watching for a chance to dash in upon us."

Then he faced about to his crew and shouted for the gunner. "Mr Barker," he said, "I am of opinion that yonder galley intends to attack us. But if she does not, we must attack and take her. I do not want her sunk, if it can be helped, for some of those for whom we are seeking may be aboard her; therefore our endeavour must be to sweep her decks clear of soldiers; and in order to do that I will have every piece of ordnance, both great and small, loaded with bullets, bags of nails, and any langrage that you can most readily lay hands upon. See to it at once, for in less than ten minutes she will be alongside. Sail- trimmers, to your stations! And archers, be ready to pour in a flight of arrows at short range."

The galley, with the flag of Spain fluttering at her ensign staff, and a banner, bearing some emblazonment which George could not very well distinguish, streaming from her masthead, suddenly ceased pulling, the slaves resting upon their oars and raising the dripping blades high above the water; and a few seconds later a puff of white smoke burst from her bows, the report of her culverin boomed across the water, and the shot flew whirring athwart the galleon's bows, striking the water some twenty yards to leeward. Then, as George brought his gla.s.s to bear upon her, her oars once more dipped, while the gun's crew could be seen upon the forecastle busily engaged in reloading their piece.

Saint Leger heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank G.o.d!" he murmured. "That shot clears up the last shred of doubt as to her intentions; and now we know where we are, and what we have to do."

The chaplain appeared at his elbow and touched him lightly on the arm.

"She's going to fight us, isn't she, Cap'n?" he said. "Is it your pleasure that the crew go to prayers?"

"To prayers?" reiterated George. "With that galley within a quarter of a mile of us? There is no time for that, now, Sir Thomas. We shall be engaged within the next two minutes, therefore you must e'en go to prayers on behalf of all hands, while we do the fighting."

"I'll do both," retorted the chaplain; "I'll pray first and fight a'terwards!" And therewith he removed his cap, sank down upon his knees--those of the crew who happened to see him also uncovering-- murmured a few words, and then, rising to his feet, calmly seized a long bow and a quiverful of arrows, drew a shaft from the quiver, fitted it to the string, and prepared to do his part manfully in the impending fight.

Meanwhile those in the galley seemed somewhat undecided as to what to do. Like the rest of her cla.s.s she was fitted at the bow with a powerful beak or ram, just level with the surface of the water, the office of which was to pierce an enemy's ship about the water-line and so cause such a serious leak as to effectually distract the attention of the defenders. But in the present case there appeared to be some hesitation with regard to the adoption of this mode of attack, and George soon came to the conclusion that the galleon's cargo--the nature of which he had not yet found time to investigate--must be so enormously rich that the Spaniards were unwilling to risk its loss by ramming her.

Certainly they did not at the moment appear to contemplate such a manoeuvre, for instead of pulling with all their strength, in order to get good way upon the galley, so that she might strike an effective blow, the slaves were doing little more than just give her steerage way.

And seeing this, George suddenly determined upon a bold step. To cross a galley's bows was, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, simply to invite disaster, but noting the apparent hesitation of the galley's captain, Saint Leger determined to risk it in the present case; therefore, first signing to the helmsman to keep the ship away a trifle more, he turned to his crew and shouted: "Gunners, depress the muzzles of your pieces sufficiently to sweep yonder galley's deck, and fire just so soon as you can be sure to hit her. I am going to risk crossing her bows. Archers, stand ready to discharge your shafts. And let the waits play up 'Ye gallant sons of Devon.' If so be that there are any English among the galley-slaves, 'twill hearten the poor souls up a bit to know that some of their own countrymen be close at hand."

And therewith the waits--some half a dozen instrumentalists--launched forth with an air that was at that time as familiar to every Devon man as his own name, though it is nearly if not quite forgotten now. Ten seconds later, every man on the galleon's decks, from George downward, was shouting the fine old song at the top of his voice, the melody going far out over the water and causing the haughty Dons on the galley's p.o.o.p to stare in amazement.

Almost at the same instant the galley's culverin spoke again. This time the piece was aimed to hit, and it did so, piercing the galleon's larboard p.o.o.p bulwark and pa.s.sing so close to George's head that he distinctly felt the wind of it, while a big splinter from the bulwark not only knocked off his steel headpiece, but also scored his scalp so shrewdly that in a moment he was almost blinded by the blood that streamed down into his eyes. The force of the blow caused him to stagger for a moment, and three or four men stationed at the smaller ordnance on the p.o.o.p rushed toward him, fearing that he was badly hurt.

But with a smile he ordered them back to their stations as he wiped the blood out of his eyes with his kerchief, and the next instant a loud tw.a.n.ging of bowstrings told that the archers had got to work. A final glance at the galley showed George that her oarsmen were still pulling slow and that there was ample room for the galleon to cross her bows; he therefore signed to the helmsman and the great ship went surging past, while her ordnance, great and small, belched forth a perfect tornado of bullets, nails, jagged fragments of iron and what not upon the deck of the devoted craft. When the smoke cleared away it was seen that the oars were drooping motionless in the water, and that of all that great crowd who a moment earlier stood upon her deck, scarcely a paltry dozen still remained upright. That terrific storm of missiles had most effectually done its work.

On the after deck but one solitary officer, clad in a complete suit of splendid armour, and with the hilt of his broken sword in his hand, stood among a heap of slain, and, seeing him, George sprang up on the rail of the galleon and hailed him:

"Do you surrender, senor, _a buena guerra_?" he demanded.

"What else can I do, senor, seeing that you have slain the whole of my crew with your infernal broadside?" he demanded. "Yes, senor," he continued, "I surrender the ship, but I am disgraced for ever, and I will not increase my humiliation by becoming your prisoner."

And therewith he calmly walked to the side of the galley and deliberately sprang overboard, sinking instantly, of course.

The Cruise of the "Nonsuch" Buccaneer--by Harry Collingwood

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

HOW GEORGE FOUND HIS BROTHER.

"So much for Spanish pride!" muttered George to himself as he gazed thoughtfully at the little ring of foam and the few bubbles which alone marked the spot where the officer had disappeared. Then he stepped down off the rail and gave orders for the galleon to be hove-to.

Next came the order to "Out boats"; and when four of them had been lowered and brought to the gangway, George instructed Ba.s.set to take command of one, the boatswain of another, the armourer of the third, and announced his intention to himself command the fourth, leaving Dyer, the pilot, in temporary command of the ship. Every man told off to go in the boats of course went armed to the teeth, for the galley-slaves were known to be, as a rule, desperate characters, and George was already beginning to feel not a little puzzled as to how he was to deal with this batch, now that he had them. A few strokes of the oars sufficed to carry the boats alongside the galley, the long sweeps of which had meanwhile been laid in, and in another moment the Englishmen had scrambled up the craft's low sides and stood upon her deck.

She was a vessel of about forty tons measurement, very long and shallow in proportion to her beam, with full deck forward and aft, and narrow wash-boards on either side connecting the two, the remainder of her being open, the open portion protected from the sea by coamings all round about a foot high. And down in this open portion of the vessel were the galley-slaves, naked as the day they were born, and each chained to the bench upon which he sat. A gang-plank ran fore and aft of this s.p.a.ce along the centre line of the ship, for the accommodation of the boatswains, usually two in number, whose duty it was to continually walk fore and aft, while the ship was under way, keeping a watchful eye upon the slaves, and stimulating them to exert themselves to the utmost, when working the sweeps, by free and unmerciful application of the whip to their naked bodies. The slaves were kept chained to their benches for days, and often for weeks, at a time; they toiled, ate, drank, and slept thus chained; and their condition and that of the interior which contained them may therefore be left to the imagination of the reader.

A moment's glance along the galley's deck sufficed to reveal to the Englishmen the devastating effect which that single broadside of langrage had wrought upon the unfortunate craft's crew. It had been fired at such close range that the missiles had only spread just sufficiently to include the entire range of the deck in its destructive sweep, and as the new arrivals gazed in amazement at the deep scores ploughed in the deck planking by the storm of iron and lead, running in a general direction fore and aft, and so close together that in some cases it was scarcely possible to lay a finger between them, the wonder was not that so many of the crew had been smitten down, but that there were any survivals at all. A glance down into the well, however, revealed the fact that the slaves, seated well below the level of the deck, and further protected by the stout coamings, had escaped almost scot-free.

Hastily directing Ba.s.set to see to the securing of the few unhurt prisoners, and to separate the wounded from the dead, George ran along the wash-board to the after deck and from this descended by a short flight of steps to the gang-plank running fore and aft the length of the well.

"Are there any Englishmen aboard this galley?" he demanded.

"Ay, that there be; eleven of us--or was, avore you fired upon us,"

answered a voice. "I'm afeared you've a-killed one or two of us down here, but what do that matter so long as you've a-comed to deliver the rest of us out of this here floatin' h.e.l.l, as, thanks be to G.o.d Almighty, you have, I do suppose."

"You are right, lad, we have," answered George, cheerily. "And who may you be?" he continued, a slight tw.a.n.g of his Devonshire dialect creeping into his speech in his excitement.

"I? Why I be Joe Cary, to Plymouth; and I was took a year ago at San Juan de Ulua, along wi' some others, when we put in there, under Admiral Hawkins, to refit. We've--"

"Tell me, quick, man," interrupted George. "Do you know anything of the whereabouts of a Mr Hubert Saint Leger, who was with Captain Drake in that affair?"

"Do I know anything about Mr Saint Leger?" repeated Cary. "Ay, sure I do. Why, he's one o' us here aboard this galley. 'Twas he that--Hi!

Mr Saint Leger--Mr Saint Leger--what's come to 'e? Here be a vine brave Devonshire lad askin' about 'e. He's for'ard, sir, on the larboard side, the fourth bench ahead o' this here one that I be sittin'

on."

There was no response to Cary's call, so George quickly turned and, striding along the gang-plank, reached the fourth bench, upon which sat three men, the middle one of which was supporting the senseless form of his neighbour nearest the gang-plank. Peering down, in the semi- darkness, George beheld in the senseless one a lean, muscular figure, his naked body brown with long exposure to the sun and weather, covered, as were the rest, with a growth of short hairs and, also as were the rest, with innumerable long cicatrices, some white and evidently the result of wounds inflicted long ago, but most of them of comparatively recent date, showing how mercilessly the boatswains were in the habit of plying their whips. But in the case of the man whom George was then gazing upon, those more or less ancient scars were almost obliterated by the blood which was still oozing from some thirty or more long slashes across the back, shoulders, loins and arms of the senseless one, whose features were almost hidden by a great, unkempt black beard and moustache already touched with grey, as was the touzled mop of black hair upon his head. Yet, through it all, as George's eyes grew accustomed to the twilight gloom of the place, he was able to recognise the features of his brother Hubert, obscured as they were with hair, dirt, and sweat.

"Is he dead?" he demanded of the man who was supporting him.

"Nay, senor, I think not," answered the man. "I believe he has but swooned under the merciless flogging inflicted by that demon yonder, whom your shot have slain and so perchance saved from a better merited death."

"And why did he flog this man so mercilessly?" demanded George in a tone of terrible calmness.

"Because," answered the man, "it was Hubert, here, who, when he heard the music from your ship, shouted to us that you were English, and that, if we would stop rowing, you would take the galley and set us all free."

George raised his head above the combing and shouted to the armourer: "Miles, come down here at once with your hammer and chisel. There is a man here--several men--whom I wish to release from their fetters."

"Senor," interposed the man who was supporting Hubert's senseless form, and who seemed to guess what George required, "if you will feel in the pocket of that dead boatswain's doublet, you will find the key to unlock our chains."

"Thanks," responded George as he bent over the dead boatswain; and a minute later he had unlocked the chain which confined his brother's body to the bench, and was calling to another man to help him to carry it up on deck.

"Senor--senor, are you not going to release us also?" demanded Hubert's comrade, as George turned away to arrange for the dispatch of his brother to the galleon.

"In good time, _amigo_, in good time," answered George. "A little patience is all you now need. I will return to you later."

With infinite care Hubert's body was lowered into a boat and dispatched to the galleon, with an imperative order from George to the surgeon to treat his patient gently and do his utmost for him. Then the young captain proceeded to release the remaining Englishmen and send them also aboard the galleon to be cared for.