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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop
Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop
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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop

For as the great orb slowly rose and sent her horizontal rays over the sea in a wide path of light, she lit-up what at first sight seemed to be a narrow opening in the mangrove forest, but which rapidly spread out wider and wider, till as the three boats glided gently along, their sails well filled by the soft sea breeze, Murray gazed back, to see that the sloop was now following into what proved to be a wide estuary, shut off from seaward by what appeared now in the moonlight a long narrow strip of mangrove-covered shore.

“River,” said the lieutenant decisively, “and a big one too. Now, Tom May, steady with the lead.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” cried the man, and he began to take soundings, one of the sailors in the second cutter receiving his orders and beginning to follow the example set.

Then there was a hail from the lugger.

“What game do you call this?”

“Soundings,” replied the lieutenant gruffly.

“Twenty fathom for miles up, and you can go close inshore if you like. It’s all alike.”

“P’raps so,” said the officer, “but my orders are to sound.”

“Sound away, then,” said the American sourly; “but do you want to be a week?” And he relapsed into silence, till about a couple of miles of the course of the wide river had been covered, sounding after sounding being taken, which proved the perfect truth of the American’s words.

Then the two cutters closed up and there was a brief order given by the first lieutenant, which resulted in the second cutter beginning to make its way back to where the sloop lay in the mouth of the estuary.

“What yer doing now?” came from the lugger.

“Sending word to the sloop that there’s plenty of water and that she may come on.”

“Course she may, mister,” grumbled the American. “Think I would ha’ telled yew if it hedn’t been all right? Yew Englishers are queer fish!”

“Yes,” said the lieutenant quietly. “We like to feel our way cautiously in strange waters.”

“Then I s’pose we may anchor now till your skipper comes? All right, then, on’y you’re not going to get up alongside of the schooner this side of to-morrow morning, I tell yew.”

“Very well, then, we must take the other side of her the next morning.”

The American issued an order of his own in a sulky tone of voice, lowering his sails; and then there was a splash as a grapnel was dropped over the side.

“Hadn’t yew better anchor?” he shouted good-humouredly now. “If yew don’t yew’ll go drifting backward pretty fast.”

For answer the lieutenant gave the order to lower the grapnel, and following the light splash and the running out of the line came the announcement of the sailor in charge as he checked the falling rope —

“No bottom here.”

“Takes a tidy long line here, mister,” came in the American’s sneering voice. “Guess your sloop’s keel won’t touch no bottom when she comes up.”

The lieutenant made no reply save by hoisting sail again and running to and fro around and about the anchored lugger, so as to pass the time in taking soundings, all of which went to prove that the river flowed sluggishly seaward with so little variation in the depth that the soundings were perfectly unnecessary.

It was tedious work, and a couple of hours passed before, pale and spirit-like at first, the other cutter came into sight in the pale moonlight, followed by the sloop, when the American had the lugger’s grapnel hauled up and ran his boat alongside of the first cutter.

“Look here,” he said angrily, “yewr skipper’s just making a fool of me, and I may as well run ashore to my plantation, for we shan’t do no good to-night.”

The man’s words were repeated when the sloop came up, and a short discussion followed, which resulted in the captain changing his orders.

“The man’s honest enough, Anderson,” he said, “and I must trust him.”

“What do you mean to do, then, sir?” said the first lieutenant, in a low tone.

“Let him pilot us to where the slaver lies.”

“With the lead going all the time, sir?”

“Of course, Mr Anderson,” said the captain shortly. “Do you think me mad?”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the chief officer. “Perhaps it will be best.”

It proved to be best so far as the American’s temper was concerned, for upon hearing the captain’s decision, he took his place at the tiller of his lugger and led the way up the great river, followed by the stately sloop, whose lead as it was lowered from time to time told the same unvarying tale of deep water with a muddy bottom, while as the river’s winding course altered slightly, the width as far as it could be made out by the night glasses gave at least a couple of miles to the shore on either hand.

From time to time the first cutter, in obedience to the captain’s orders, ran forward from where she was sailing astern – the second cutter swinging now from the davits – crept up alongside of the lugger, and communicated with her skipper; and Murray’s doubts grew more faint, for everything the American said sounded plausible.

The night was far spent when another of these visits was paid, and as the coxswain hooked on alongside of the lugger the American leaned over to speak to the lieutenant, but turned first to Murray. “Well, young mister,” he said; “sleepy?”

“No, not at all,” was the reply. “Good boy; that’s right; but if your skipper hadn’t been so tarnation ’spicious yew might have had a good snooze. Wall, lieutenant, I was just waiting to see you, and I didn’t want to hail for fear our slave-hunting friend might be on his deck and hear us. Talk about your skipper being ’spicious, he’s nothing to him. The way in which the sound of a shout travels along the top of the water here’s just wonderful, and my hail might spyle the hull business.”

“But we’re not so near as that?” asked the lieutenant.

“Ain’t we? But we jest are! See that there bit of a glimpse of the mountains straight below the moon?”

“Yes,” said the lieutenant; “but I should have taken it for a cloud if you had not spoken.”

“That’s it,” said the skipper; “that’s where the river winds round at the foot, and the quieter yewr people keep now the better. Oh yes, yewr skipper has knocked all my calc’lations on the head, I can tell yew. That there sloop sails A1, and she’s done much more than I ’spected.”

“I’m glad of it,” said the lieutenant, while Murray’s spirits rose.

“So’m I,” said the man, with a chuckle; “and now it’s turned out all right I don’t mind ’fessing.”

“Confessing! What about?”

“Why, this here,” said the man. “Your skipper had wasted so much time with his soundings and messing about that I says to myself that if I tried to see the business out our Portygee friend would see me mixed up with it all and take the alarm. Yewr sloop wouldn’t get near him, for he’d run right up the river where you couldn’t follow, and he’d wait his time till you’d gone away, and then come down upon me as an informer. D’you know what that would mean for me then?”

“Not exactly,” replied the lieutenant, “but I can guess.”

“Zackly,” said the man, and he turned sharply upon Murray and made a significant gesture with one finger across his throat.

“Look here,” said the lieutenant, “don’t talk so much, my friend.”

“That’s just what I want yew to go and tell your skipper, mister. Tell him to give orders that his men are not to say a word above a whisper, for if it’s ketched aboard the schooner our friend will be off.”

“I will tell him,” said the lieutenant; “but now tell me what you mean to do?”

“To do? Jest this; put your vessel just where she can lie low and send three or four boats to steal aboard the schooner and take her. Yew can do that easy, can’t yew, without firing a shot?”

“Certainly,” said the lieutenant; “and what about you?”

“Me? Get outer the way as fast as I can, I tell yew. I’m not a fighting man, and I’ve got to think of what might happen if you let the slaver slip. See?”

“Yes, I see,” said the lieutenant; “but you need not be alarmed for yourself. Captain Kingsberry will take care that no harm shall befall you.”

“Think so, mister?”

“I am sure so, my friend. But now tell me this; how soon do you think that you can lay us abreast of that schooner?”

“Jest when you like now, mister. What I’ve set down as being best is, say, about daybreak.”

“Exactly; that will do.”

“Jest what I said to myself. Daybreak’s the time when everybody aboard will be fast asleep, for they don’t carry on there like yew do aboard a man-o’-war with your keeping watch and that sort of thing.”

“Of course not,” said the officer. “Well, then, I may go and tell the captain what you say?”

“That’s jest as yew like, mister. I should if it was me.”

“Exactly. And you feel sure that you can keep your word?”

“Wish I was as sure of getting hold of that there piece o’ territory, mister, and the nigger chief cleared away.”

“Then you don’t feel quite sure?” put in Murray.

“Course I don’t, young officer. There’s many a pick at a worm as turns out a miss, ain’t there? How do I know that my Portygee neighbour mayn’t slip off through your boats making too much of a row instead of creeping up quiet? You mean right, all of you, but I shan’t feel sure till you’ve made a prisoner of that chap and scattered the nigger chief and his men where they’ll be afraid to come back. Now then; you said something about talking too much. I’m going to shut up shop now and give my tongue a holiday till I’ve laid you where you can send your boats to do their work. But I say, just one word more, mister,” said the man anxiously; and the lieutenant felt his hand tremble as he laid it upon his arm; “yew will be careful, won’t yew?”

“Trust us,” replied the lieutenant.

“That’s what I’m a-doing; but jest you think. It puts me in mind of the boys and the frogs in your English moral story – what may be fun to yew may be death to me. Tell your skipper that he must take all the care he can.”

“I will,” said the lieutenant.

“But look here; perhaps I’d better come aboard and say a word to him. Don’t you think I might?”

“No,” was the reply.

“But what do yew say, young mister?”

“I say no too,” replied Murray. “Your place is here aboard your lugger.”

“Wall, I suppose you’re right,” half whimpered the man, “for we’re getting tidy nigh now, and I don’t want anything to go wrong through my chaps making a mistake. I’ll chance it, so you’d best get aboard your vessel. Tell the skipper I shall do it just at daylight. Less than half-an-hour now. Then’ll be the time.”

“One moment,” said Murray, as the lieutenant was about to give the order for the coxswain to unhook and let the cutter glide back to the sloop.

“Yes, mister; what is it?”

“What’s that dull roaring sound?”

“Roaring sound? One of them howling baboon beasts in the woods perhaps. Calling its mates just before sunrise.”

“No, no; I mean that – the sound of water.”

“Oh, that!” said the man. “Yes, yew can hear it quite plain, and we’re nigher than I thought. That’s on my ground over yonder. Bit of a fall that slops over from the river and turns a little sugar-mill I’ve got. There, cast off and tell your skipper to look out and be smart. Less than half-an-hour I shall be taking yew round a big point there is here, and as soon as it’s light enough when yew get round, yew’ll be able to see the chief’s huts and thatched barracks where he cages his blackbirds, while the schooner will be anchored out in front, waiting for you to have sailed away. Her skipper will be taken all on the hop. He’ll never think of seeing you drop upon him.”

“He’ll never suspect that the way up the river will be found out?” said the lieutenant.

“That’s it, mister; but you’ll tell your skipper to be spry and careful, for if yew don’t do it right it’ll be death to me.”

“I see,” said the lieutenant rather hoarsely from excitement. “Now then, my man, cast off.”

“One moment,” said the American, and Murray saw him through the paling moonlight raise his hand as if to wipe his brow. “You quite understand, then? The river gives a big bend round to left, then another to the right, and then one more to the left, jest like a wriggling wum. Tell your skipper to follow me close so as to run by me as soon as he sees the schooner lying at anchor. She’ll come into sight all at once from behind the trees like, and whatever you do, run close aboard and grapple her. Her skipper’ll have no time to show fight if you do your work to rights. I’m all of a tremble about it, I tell yew, for it means so much to me. There; my work’s jest about done, and I’m going to run for the shore out of the way. I don’t want the Portygee to get so much as a sniff of me.”

“Cast off,” said the lieutenant; and as the cutter dropped back free, the lugger seemed to spring forward into faint mist, which began to show upon the broad surface of the great river, while the sloop glided up alongside, one of the men caught the rope that was heaved to them, and directly after Murray missed their pilot and his swift craft, for it was eclipsed by the Seafowl as she glided between, right in the lugger’s wake.

Chapter Seven.

Trapped

“Well, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, as the latter briefly related the last sayings of the American, “that’s all plain enough, and in a few minutes we ought to be alongside.”

“Yes, sir, after following the windings of the river, or in other words following our guide, till we see the masts of the schooner above the trees.” And the lieutenant stood anxiously watching the lugger, which seemed to have rapidly increased its distance. “I presume, sir, that we are all ready for action?”

“Of course we are, Mr Anderson,” said the captain stiffly. “We shall keep on till we are pretty close, then run up into the wind, and you and Mr Munday will head the boarders. We shall take them so by surprise that there will be very little resistance. But I see no signs of the schooner’s spars yet.”

“No, sir, but we have to make another bend round yet.”

“Yes, of course,” said the captain, as he swept the river banks with his night glass.

“The river seems to fork here, though, sir,” said the lieutenant anxiously.

“Humph! Yes; but I suppose it’s all right, for the lugger keeps on. We must be on the correct course if we follow him.”

“Beg pardon, sir,” said Murray excitedly. “I caught sight of the masts of a vessel lying yonder.”

“Eh? Where, Mr Murray?” said the captain, in a low voice full of excitement.

“Yonder, sir, about half a mile to starboard, beyond the trees on the bank.”

“To be sure! Tall taper spars. I see, Mr Murray.”

“But the sloop is running straight away to port, sir,” said the lieutenant anxiously.

“Well, what of that, Mr Anderson? Did not the American tell you that we were to follow certain bends of the river?”

“Yes, sir, but – ”

“Yes, sir, but!” said the captain, in an angry whisper. “Is this a time for raising buts? According to your own showing, the schooner was to be found at anchor in one of the bends where the black chief’s town lay.”

“Yes, sir, but I see no sign of any thatched huts.”

“All in good time, Mr Anderson. We shall see the lugger swing round that next point directly, and then we shall be in full view of our prize.”

The captain turned from his chief officer impatiently, and then in a low tone issued a few orders with respect to future proceedings, the master following out the instructions, while the two boarding parties, each armed and ready, stood waiting for the command which should launch them on board the now invisible slaver.

“Bah!” ejaculated the captain. “We are half-an-hour too late. We ought to be alongside now. Hang the fellow, Mr Anderson! Can he be taking us the right way round that point?”

“I hope so, sir, but I have my suspicions,” replied the lieutenant anxiously.

“What, that he is playing us false?”

“No, sir, but that he has lost heart and is afraid to pilot us right to where the schooner lies.”

“The scoundrel! If he has – ” began the captain, sharing now in his subordinate’s anxiety. “Oh, impossible! He must know better than we do. Ahoy, there!” he cried, speaking just loud enough for the lookout to hear. “Can you make out where the lugger is making for?”

“Ay, ay, sir! Bit of a creek yonder, right inshore.”

“That’s it, sir,” cried the lieutenant excitedly; “he has taken fright. We must run round that bend yonder, keeping to mid-stream.”

“Or anchor,” exclaimed the captain sharply. “Why, confound it, man! The river forks here, and we are in a branch with a current running in another direction. Stand by there to lower the anchor!” he roared, “or we shall be ashore.”

The order came too late, for as in obedience to order after order, the sloop’s course was altered and her sails began to shiver, there was a preliminary shock as if bottom had been lightly touched, then a shiver which seemed to communicate itself upward from the deck through Murray’s spine, and the next minute the Seafowl heeled over slightly as she seemed to cut her way onward into the soft mud, where she stuck fast with the fierce current into which they had run pressing hardly against her side as it raced swiftly by.

“Trapped!” said a voice from close to Murray’s ear, and the young man turned swiftly from where he had been gazing over the side in the direction of the further shore, to encounter the first lieutenant’s angry eyes. “Well, Mr Murray,” he said bitterly, “where is that Yankee snake?”

“Just gliding in yonder among the trees, sir,” cried the young man passionately. “I suspected him from the first.”

“Well, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, hurrying up, and as coolly as if nothing whatever was wrong, “either you or I have placed the sloop in about as unpleasant a position as it was possible to get. Now then, how about getting out of it?”

“We’re on soft mud, sir,” said the gentleman addressed.

“And with a falling tide, I’m afraid. There, get to work man, and see what can be done with an anchor to haul her upon a level keel before the position is worse, for we shall board no slaver to-day.”

“Beg pardon, sir.”

“What is it, Mr Murray?”

The midshipman pointed right aft, where the faint mist was floating away from where it hung about a mile away over the distant shore.

“Well, sir, why don’t you speak?” cried the captain, now speaking angrily. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr Murray; another mist was in my eyes. That must be the course of the other fork of the river. I see it plainly now. We have been lured up here and run upon this muddy shoal in the belief that we shall never get off; and there goes our prize with her load of black unfortunates. Do you see her, Mr Anderson?”

“Too plainly, sir,” said the chief officer sadly.

For it was now broad daylight and the swift-looking schooner was gliding along apparently through the trees which covered a narrow spit of land.

“Hah!” said the captain quietly. “Yes, that’s it, Mr Anderson – our prize, and a beautiful morning for her to make her start for the West Indies. Bless that straightforward, timorous, modest American skipper! Do you know, Mr Anderson, I am strongly of opinion that he commands that craft and that he will find his way through some of the muddy creeks and channels of the mangrove forest back to where she will be waiting for him. Well, master, what do you think?” he continued, as that officer came up hurriedly. “Will the sloop lie over any further?”

“No, sir; that is stopped; but we are wedged in fast.”

“So I suppose. Well, Mr Thomson, it does not mean a wreck?”

“No, no, sir, nor any damage as far as I can say.”

“Damage, Mr Thomson,” said the captain, smiling at him pleasantly; “but it does, man; damage to our reputation – mine – Mr Anderson’s. But you were going to say something, to ask me some question.”

“Yes, sir; about taking steps to get the sloop out of the bed in which she lies.”

“Poor bird, yes; but you see no risk for the present?”

“Not the slightest, sir. The mud is so soft.”

“Mud generally is, Mr Thomson,” said the captain blandly. “Well, then, let her rest for a while. We are all tired after a long night’s work. Pass the word to Mr Dempsey, and let him pipe all hands for breakfast. I want mine badly.”

There was a faint cheer at this, followed by another, and then by one which Murray said was a regular “roarer.”

“I say,” he said to Roberts, “doesn’t he take it splendidly!”

“Don’t you make any mistake,” replied that young gentleman. “He seems as cool as a cucumber, but he’s boiling with rage, and if he had that Yankee here he’d hang him from the yard-arm as sure as he’s his mother’s son.”

“And serve him right,” said Murray bitterly.

“What’s that, young gentlemen?” said the captain, turning upon them sharply, for he had noted what was going on and placed his own interpretation upon the conversation – “criticising your superiors?”

“No, sir,” said Murray frankly; “we were talking about punishing the Yankee who tricked us into this.”

“Gently, Mr Murray – gently, sir! You hot-blooded boys are in too great a hurry. Wait a bit. I dare say we shall have the pleasure of another interview with him; and, by the way, Mr Anderson, I think as we are so near, we might as well inspect the indiarubber plantations of our friend. We might see, too, if he has any more work-people of the same type as those who manned his galley.”

“I’m afraid we should only find them on board the schooner, sir,” said the chief officer bitterly.

“Exactly,” said the captain; “but I wonder at you young gentlemen,” he continued – “you with your sharp young brains allowing yourselves to be deceived as you were. Those fellows who formed the lugger’s crew ought not to have hoodwinked you.”

“They did me, sir,” said Roberts, speaking out warmly, “but Murray, here, sir, was full of suspicion from the first.”

Chapter Eight.

Amongst the Horrors

The crew of the Seafowl had a busy day’s work after a good refresher, during which officers and men had been discussing in low tones the way in which “the skipper,” as they called him, had let himself be tricked by the Yankee. The younger men wanted to know what he could have been about, while the elder shook their heads sagely.

“Ah,” more than one said, “it has always been the same since the revolution; these Yankees have been too much for us. There’s something in the American air that sharpens their brains.”

Then old Dempsey, the boatswain, who had heard pretty well all that the captain had said, chewed it over, digested it, and gave it voice as if it was something new, to first one knot of listeners and then another, ending with the two midshipmen.

“You see, Mr Murray, and you too, Mr Roberts, it was like this. That schooner had just started for the West Injies with a full load of niggers, when she sighted the Seafowl and knowed she was a king’s ship looking after a prize.”

“How could the Yankee skipper know that?” said Murray. “He could only get just a glimpse before we were hidden by the fog.”

“Cut of the jib, sir – cut of the jib,” said the old man. “What else could he think? ’Sides, Yankee slaving skippers have got consciences, same as other men.”

“Rubbish, Mr Dempsey!” said Roberts contemptuously.

“Course they are, sir – worst of rubbish, as you say, but there’s bad consciences as well as good consciences, and a chap like him, carrying on such work as his, must be always ready to see a king’s ship in every vessel he sights. But well, young gentlemen, as I was a-saying, he sights us, and there was no chance for him with us close on his heels but dodgery.”

“Dodgery, Mr Dempsey?” said Roberts.

“Yes, sir; Yankee tricks. Of course he couldn’t fight, knowing as he did that it meant a few round shot ’twixt and ’tween wind and water, and the loss of his craft. So he says to himself, ‘what’s to be done?’ and he plays us that trick. Sends his schooner up the river while he puts off in that there lugger and pretends to be a injyrubber grower. That ought to have been enough to set the skipper and Mr Anderson thinking something was wrong, but that’s neither here nor there. He pretends that he was a highly respectable sort of fellow, when all the time he was a sorter human fox, and lures, as the captain calls it, our sloop into this sort of a branch of the big river where the current runs wrong way on because part of the waters of the great river discharges theirselves. And then what follows?”