CHAPTER X.

THE SWANSEA AGAIN.

For some time we lay flat on the ground with only our heads in sight of any one who might be on board the brig and might be keeping a sharp lookout with a spy-glass; so we felt pretty sure that no one would see us. We could see the greater part of the island, and Bill remembered that he had once before landed there when he was on his first piratical cruise.

There was a long and narrow inlet that reached from the sea nearly to the centre of the island. Here the pirates had a sort of camp or village where they lived when ashore. Sometimes they kept heavy cargoes of vessels in store, waiting for a chance to dispose of them. Bill explained that the reason that the brig did not go up to the camp was that there was a ledge of rock directly across the channel which a vessel could only pass at high tide, and not even then if she drew more than three feet of water.

It was the habit of the pirates when they came ashore to leave their vessel at anchor just below the reef, with two or three men on board, and to make their way up the inlet in boats. There was a battery, so Bill said, of two twenty-four-pounders, concealed among the trees near the anchorage, and in case a man-of-war should come into the inlet it would be quite easy for the pirates to sink her with a few shots at such short range.

We could not see the camp from where we were, nor the deck of the Swansea, so we took the risk of creeping along the brow of the hill till we could get a better view. There was a small boat lying at the main-chains of the Swansea, but we could not see a soul on board the brig. At the camp there were two men cooking, and two or three moving lazily about; but it was clear that most of the pirates were still asleep.

There was a schooner lying near the camp, and she was so high out of the water that she could have had nothing in her except the three guns that were on her deck. From her size Bill felt sure that she could only pass over the reef at very high tide, and that she must have been brought up to the camp in order that she might be repaired in some way.

After we had seen everything that we could see we cautiously made our way back again until we were on the side of the hill where the pirates could not see us. Then we got on our feet and went a long way into the woods, where we sat down to talk over our situation.

“We’re safe enough here for a while,” said Bill. “Pirates when they’re ashore are too fond of gettin’ drunk and sleepin’ all day to care for cruisin’ around in the woods. Unless they were to catch sight of our boat lyin’ on the sand, we might stay in these woods a month without bein’ roused out by them.”

“But we don’t want to stay here a month,” exclaimed Tom. “We want to get away the first moment we can do so.”

“We can’t start till after dark,” said I, “for if we do some one will be sure to see the boat before she can get out of sight. It stands to reason that the pirates must keep a lookout over the sea, even if they don’t over the island.”

“Then we’ll lie here till night and start as soon as it gets dark,” said Tom.

“For my part,” said Bill, “I’ve had enough of cruisin’ in a small boat. In course I’m ready to do anythin’ that’s ordered, but if we’re to do any more cruisin’ I say let’s do it aboard the Swansea.”

“So, after all you’ve said, you want to join the pirates again,” said I. “It’s hard to believe it of you, Bill.”

“Who said anythin’ about jinin’ pirates?” replied he. “What I says I sticks to, and I said no more piratin’ for me, never.”

“Then what do you mean?” asked Tom and I both together.

“I mean this. Here’s the Swansea with no more than two men aboard her, and both of them sure to be snorin’ all night. Here’s three of us, and here’s a boat to take us to the Swansea. Here’s the tide, that’ll begin runnin’ out about six o’clock, and by nine, certain, that schooner can’t pass the reef. Why shouldn’t we go aboard the brig about nine o’clock, heave them two chaps overboard, cut her cable, make sail on her and have everythin’ comfortable? Why, it can be done as easy as anythin’; and if you, young masters, don’t care to try it, I’m game to try it myself, and pick you and the boat up afterwards.”

“What do you say, Tom?” I asked, though from the look in his face I knew what he would say.

“Say!” cried Tom. “I say I’ll go with you two, now, if you say so, without waiting for night.”

“Then it’s settled,” said I. “Bill knows what he’s talking about, and I ask his pardon for thinking for a minute that he meant to turn pirate again.”

“No offense, young master,” replied the old man. “It’ll be many a year before people will believe that a man like me has turned over a new leaf. I don’t blame ’em, for I wouldn’t believe it myself of any pirate I ever knew yet.”

When we came to discuss our project more seriously it did seem rather rash. To be sure we had two guns and a hatchet, and we had no fears that we could not overpower two sleepy pirates. But then we could not be sure that there were only two of them on board the brig. Then how could we make sail on her without making considerable noise, and if the noise should attract the attention of the pirates who were ashore they would recapture the brig at once and would show us no mercy. But, after all, the risk was no greater than the risk that our boat would be seen and overhauled if we tried to leave the island in her.

I thought of all the difficulties in the way of capturing the brig and getting off clear with her, and I am sure Tom thought of them, too, but we did not speak of them, for we had made up our minds to try it, and when you have once looked a thing in the face and decided that it must be done, it is foolishness to discourage yourself by counting up the obstacles in the way.

We were so determined not to lose the chance of capturing the Swansea by any fault of our own that we did not leave the woods until it began to grow dark. Then we were so hungry that we ate up all our provisions, and a great quantity of bananas that we had found on the edge of the woods. For if we did not succeed in capturing the Swansea we knew very well that we should never need any more food, while if we did capture her we would be sure to find food enough aboard her.

We had come across a small spring of very good water, and by Bill’s advice we filled our water-breaker, for, as he said, it was possible that we should not find any water aboard the Swansea, and he had a sailor’s horror of dying of thirst.

We ate our supper in the woods, only going down to the boat to get the turtles’ eggs. We felt much more courageous after supper than we had felt before, and I found myself getting very anxious that nine o’clock should arrive. I was troubled by no doubts whatever as to the success of our attack on the brig.

When we thought that it must be about eight o’clock we all went up to the top of the hill again. The brig lay in the darkness where we could hardly make her out except by the appearance of her spars against the sky. There was no light aboard her so far as we could see, and Bill said that either the men in charge of her were asleep or that they had gone ashore. There were a number of lights at the camp and occasionally we could hear voices. Once the pirates sang part of a song with a long chorus. So it was plain that they were wide awake, although there was no sign that they were keeping any lookout.

It did not seem to me that it would be safe for us to stir as long as the camp seemed to be awake; but Bill thought differently. He said that the chances were that there was not a soul on board the brig, but that if we waited long enough the men whose duty it was to be on board her would return. Then he reminded us that the more noise the people at the camp might make the less they would notice any noise that we might make in getting the Swansea out of the inlet. Besides there was the tide, and it was of the greatest importance for us to get away from the island while the tide was so low that the schooner could not get across the reef to pursue us. So we resolved that we would not wait any longer, but would start at once.

We went down to the boat where we muffled the oars, and placed our arms where we could lay our hands on them in case of need. It was quite dark when we pushed off, though the stars were bright, and there was a nice fresh, southerly breeze.

Tom and I rowed while Bill steered. He kept close in by the shore and we only spoke to one another in whispers. Tom had the bow oar, and it was agreed that when we reached the brig he was to make our painter fast in the main channels, and that he was then to follow me on board. Bill was to climb on board first and Tom and I were to follow him and obey his orders.

It was a longer pull around the island to the inlet than we thought it would be, but when we came in sight of the brig there was no sign of life on her deck, though there was a glimmer of a light coming through one of the cabin windows. Bill did not hesitate a moment, but steered straight for the Swansea, and we made the boat fast and climbed on board without the least difficulty. Tom and I left our shoes in the boat, and when we once reached the deck we followed Bill noiselessly as, first forward and then aft, he went, searching the deck thoroughly.

We found no one, and it then occurred to us to look over the side for the boat in which the pirates went to and from the shore. There was no boat but ours anywhere near the brig except one which hung from the davits, so that I at once felt sure that the pirates were ashore and that we were alone. I was just about to speak in a louder tone of voice when Bill who understood what I was thinking of gripped my arm and whispered “Remember the light in the cabin.”

It was of course impossible for us to risk cutting the cable until we could make sure that there was no one in the cabin ready to come on deck and give the alarm. So leaving Tom to watch for any boat that might come from the shore, Bill and I stole down the companion way as quietly as possible. There in the cabin, in the very chair where poor Captain Fearing used to sit, sat his wicked mate, Mr. March, the very man who had stolen the Swansea.

March was sound asleep. His arms were on the table and his head rested upon them.

We crept up to him and Bill had one arm around his chest and his hand on the man’s mouth, before he awoke. When he did awake he found that Bill was holding him firmly, that my gun was pointed directly at him, and that it was useless to resist.

“Now you make just the least bit of noise and you’re a dead man,” said Bill to the mate. “Keep quiet and you won’t be hurt; that is, not at present. I’m old Bill Catchley, the same that was shipmate with you in the Ruby, and you know I’m a man of my word.”

The mate never offered to say a word while Bill lashed him fast with the fellow’s own silk sash and then gagged him with his cap.

“Now,” said the old man, “you’re quite comfortable, and you can just lie here where we can keep an eye on you through the skylight. If you offer to move we’ll shoot you out of hand; so bein’ as you’re a sensible sailor-man you’ll keep precious still. And now, young master, we’ll go on deck and set the men at work.”

I was on the point of asking “What men?” when I saw that Bill wanted the mate to think that we had a strong force with us.

On deck we found Tom anxiously watching for the pirates’ boat, which, as we feared, might come off to the brig any moment.

“The first thing to do,” said Bill, “is to run up the jib and get her head round before we cut the cable. I’ll lay out and loose the jib and you’ll hoist it; but remember that any noise will bring the pirates on us.”

We got the jib up without much noise, though the hanks did rattle in a way that frightened me, and then, after the sheet was trimmed, Bill rushed to loose the fore topsail, telling me to cut the cable the moment the sail filled, and then to sheet home as quickly as possible.

I obeyed orders strictly, and in a few minutes the cable was cut and before Tom and I had the weather clue sheeted home Bill was with us. He sent me to the wheel, and with the help of Tom he managed to get the sail set and the braces trimmed after a fashion, though he had to leave the yard on the cap.

The brig was now before the wind, though she had nothing on her that drew except the topsail, and that was partly masked by the high ground of the island. Still the tide was running out of the inlet, and what with the wind and tide, we were dropping down to the open sea at a fairish rate.

Having satisfied himself that I could see which way to steer, Bill took the topsail halyards to the capstan, and with the help of Tom managed to mast-head the yard. Then he went aloft to loose the main topsail. I ventured to lash the helm amidships and thus to leave it in order to help Tom with the topsail sheets.

The clanking of the pawls of the capstan had made a terrible noise, and it seemed to me impossible that the pirates on shore should not hear it; but there was no help for it, for we could not get the yard up without the capstan. It was the same thing with the main topsail, only it took longer to get the yard up and it seemed to me that the capstan made more noise than ever. Still we heard nothing of the pirates, and soon the main topsail was drawing nicely. I had gone back to the wheel while Bill was aloft loosing the maintop-gallant sail. I was beginning to think that we were out of danger, when suddenly a terrible roar like a clap of thunder, and a bright flash from the shore, changed my mind. At the same instant a twenty-four pound ball flew over the brig, and Bill yelled at the top of his lungs, “Jump below there and put out that cabin light.” Almost at the same moment he slid down the back stay, and calling for Tom hauled away with the strength of a giant at the top-gallant sheets.