Pirates

by Jennifer Willis

Genres: Action & Adventure; Sea Adventures

Synopsis

The surprising success of Pirates of the Caribbean, a new screen adaptation of the classic Peter Pan, and the Russell Crowe film Master and Commander have fueled interest in seagoing swashbucklers. There is a rich literature on pirates -- both in fiction and nonfiction. This collection offers excerpts from the works of contemporary authors: Patrick O'Brian's riveting account of a sea battle with Borneo's pirates will enthrall his fans; Farley Mowat's The Black Joke is a rousing adventure of the rum-running set in the 1930s and written in the tradition of the great classic pirate tales. Readers will also discover and rediscover the most infamous pirates of yore, from Treasure Island's Long John Silver to Peter Pan's Captain Hook. They'll encounter pirate adventures from neglected classics such as L. Frank Baum's Pirates in Oz, Alexandre Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo and Rafael Sabatini's Captain Blood. And they'll find accounts of the dastardly deeds of female pirates both real (Anne Bonney and Mary Read) and imagined (Arthur Ransome's Chinese pirate Miss Lee). Pirates also draws upon colorful true-life accounts and authentic first-person narratives of pirates -- and their victims -- discovered in nearly forgotten works such as The Pirates Own Book and Captured by Pirates.

Release date: June 17, 2009

Publisher: Da Capo Press

Print pages: 418

Sample

If you’ve opened this book, pirates intrigue you. You may not know much about them, or you may be intimately familiar with the literature inspired by those rogues and scoundrels who roved the sea in search of riches and adventure. Maybe when you were little you dressed up as a pirate at every opportunity. Maybe you get up when everyone else is asleep and dance around the house with a make believe sword in your hand, leaping from one piece of furniture to the next like a pirate boarding a Spanish galleon. As for me, at the age of 45 I got myself a little tattoo and a small gold nose ring.

Why do pirates and their stories enthrall us? What is it about these rakes that speaks to us, even though we know they often behaved very badly indeed? I think we love them because they lived outside convention, with no patience for the often restrictive and repressive social hierarchy of their times. They forsook security for risk, and social position for camaraderie. The sea was unpredictable, always changing and moving beneath them. They had to learn to live in the moment, to be keenly aware of what was actually happening at any given instant. They had to be adaptable–quick-witted and quick on their feet. In a world where birth determined social class, and class boundaries were utterly rigid, a pirate’s life offered a man (and the occasional woman!) the chance to live as an equal among comrades. A pirate’s life was a brutal and dangerous one, but it offered a measure of personal freedom denied to the common man.

Pirates spent much of their lives in pursuit of treasure, but I like to think their pursuit was about more than gold. It was about the excitement of not knowing what lay around the next island or across the wide expanse of the ocean; it was about not knowing what the next day would hold. This sense of possibility and mystery is what I love about pirate lore.

We don’t have to be pirates to break free of the constraints that prevent us from listening to our hearts and giving reign to our imaginations. When we sense that freedom we will find that there is a bounty of joy and wisdom to be uncovered through our experiences in this vast and ever-changing world. When we open to the possibilities for freedom and adventure in our own lives we will find ourselves rich beyond Blackbeard’s wildest dreams.

–Jennifer Schwamm Willis

Three boys–Jack, Peterkin and Ralph–are shipwrecked on a coral reef in the South Seas. After many long months they spy a schooner heading for the island, and rejoice in their imminent rescue. But to their horror they discover as it draws near that the ship flies the skull and crossbones.

One day we were all enjoying ourselves in the Water Garden, preparatory to going on a fishing excursion; for Peterkin had kept us in such constant supply of hogs that we had become quite tired of pork, and desired a change. Peterkin was sunning himself on the ledge of rock, while we were creeping among the rocks below. Happening to look up, I observed Peterkin cutting the most extraordinary capers and making violent gesticulation for us to come up; so I gave Jack a push, and rose immediately.

‘A sail! a sail! Ralph, look! Jack, away on the horizon there, just over the entrance to the lagoon!’ cried Peterkin, as we scrambled up the rocks.

‘So it is, and a schooner, too!’ said Jack, as he proceeded hastily to dress.

Our hearts were thrown into a terrible flutter by this discovery, for if it should touch at our island we had no doubt the captain would be happy to give us a passage to some of the civilized islands, where we could find a ship sailing for England, or some other part of Europe. Home, with all its associations, rushed in upon my heart like a flood, and, much though I loved the Coral Island and the bower which had now been our home so long, I felt that I could have quitted all at that moment without a sigh. With joyful anticipations we hastened to the highest point of rock near our dwelling, and awaited the arrival of the vessel, for we now perceived that she was making straight for the island, under a steady breeze.

In less then an hour she was close to the reef, where she rounded to, and backed her top-sails in order to survey the coast. Seeing this, and fearing that they might not perceive us, we all three waved pieces of coconut cloth in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to land. Suddenly a flag was run up to the peak, a little cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner’s side, and, before we could guess their intentions, a cannon shot came crashing through the bushes, carried away several coconut trees in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards below the spot on which we stood.

With feelings of terror we now observed that the flag at the schooner’s peak was black, with a death’s head and cross-bones upon it. As we gazed at each other in blank amazement, the word ‘pirate’ escaped our lips simultaneously.

‘What is to be done?’ cried Peterkin, as we observed a boat shoot from the vessel’s side, and make for the entrance of the reef. ‘If they take us off the island, it will either be to throw us overboard for sport, or to make pirates of us.’

I did not reply, but looked at Jack, as being our only resource in this emergency. He stood with folded arms, and his eyes fixed with a grave, anxious expression on the ground. ‘There is but one hope,’ said he, turning with sad expression of countenance to Peterkin; ‘perhaps, after all, we may not have to resort to it. If these villains are anxious to take us, they will soon overrun the whole island. But come, follow me.’

Stopping abruptly in his speech, Jack bounded into the woods, and led us by a circuitous route to Spouting Cliff. Here he halted, and, advancing cautiously to the rocks, glanced over their edge. We were soon by his side, and saw the boat, which was crowded with armed men, just touching the shore. In an instant the crew landed, formed line, and rushed up to our bower.

In a few seconds we saw them hurrying back to the boat, one of them swinging the poor cat round his head by the tail. On reaching the water’s edge, he tossed it far into the sea, and joined his companions, who appeared to be holding a hasty council.

‘You see what we may expect,’ said Jack, bitterly. ‘The man who will want only kill a poor brute for sport will think little of murdering a fellow-creature. Now, boys, we have but one chance left–the Diamond Cave.’

‘The Diamond Cave!’ cried Peterkin; ‘then my chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the pirates on the Pacific were at my heels.’

‘Nay, but,’ said I, ‘we will take you down, Peterkin, if you will only trust us.’

As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach, and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along the shore.

‘Now, Peterkin,’ said Jack, in a solemn tone, ‘you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up our minds to die in your company.’

‘Oh, Jack, my dear friend,’ cried Peterkin, turning pale, ‘leave me; I don’t believe they’ll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and Ralph, and dive into the cave.’

‘That will not I,’ answered Jack quietly, while he picked up a stout cudgel from the ground. ‘So now, Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto is, “No quarter”. If we can manage to floor those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for a while.’

‘There are five of them,’ said I; ‘we have no chance.’

‘Come, then,’ cried Peterkin, starting up, and grasping Jack convulsively by the arm, ‘let us dive; I will go.’

Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare idea of being held down, even for a few seconds–that spasmodic, involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has no connection whatever with cowardice; and they will understand the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow himself to be dragged down to a depth of ten feet, and then, through a narrow tunnel, into an almost pitch-dark cavern. But there was no alternative. The pirates had already caught sight of us, and were now within a short distance of the rocks.

Jack and I seized Peterkin by the arms.

‘Now, keep quite still, no struggling,’ said Jack, ‘or we are lost.’

Peterkin made no reply, but the stern gravity of his marble features, and the tension of his muscles, satisfied us that he had fully made up his mind to go through with it. Just as the pirates gained the foot of the rocks, which hid us for a moment from their view, we bent over the sea, and plunged down together head foremost. Peterkin behaved like a hero. He floated passively between us like a log of wood, and we passed the tunnel and rose into the cave in a shorter space of time than I had ever done it before.

Peterkin drew a long, deep breath on reaching the surface; and in a few seconds we were all standing on the ledge of rock in safety. Jack now searched for the tinder and torch, which always lay in the cave. He soon found them, and, lighting the torch, revealed to Peterkin’s wondering gaze the marvels of the place. But we were too wet to waste much time in looking about us. Our first care was to take off our clothes, and wring them as dry as we could. This done, we proceeded to examine into the state of our larder, for, as Jack truly remarked, there was no knowing how long the pirates might remain on the island.

‘Perhaps,’ said Peterkin, ‘they may take it into their heads to stop here altogether, and so we shall be buried alive in this place.’

‘Don’t you think, Peterkin, that it’s the nearest thing to being drowned alive that you ever felt?’ said Jack with a smile. ‘But I’ve no fear of that. These villains never stay long on shore. The sea is their home, so you may depend upon it that they won’t stay more than a day or two at the furthest.’

We now began to make arrangements for spending the night in the cavern. At various periods Jack and I had conveyed coconuts and other fruits, besides rolls of coconut cloth, to this submarine cave, partly for amusement, and partly from a feeling that we might possibly be driven one day to take shelter here.

We found the coconuts in good condition, and the cooked yams, but the bread-fruits were spoiled. We also found the cloth where we had left it; and, on opening it out, there proved to be sufficient to make a bed; which was important as the rock was damp. Having collected it all together, we spread out our bed, placed our torch in the midst of us, and ate our supper. It was indeed a strange chamber to feast in; and we could not help remarking on the cold ghastly appearance of the walls, and the black water at our side, with the thick darkness beyond, and the sullen sound of the drops that fell at long intervals from the roof of the cavern into the still water; and the strong contrast between all this and our bed and supper, which, with our faces, were lit up with the deep red flame of the torch.

We sat long over our meal, talking together in subdued voices, for we did not like the dismal echoes that rang through the vault above when we happened to raise them. At last the faint light that came through the opening died away, warning us that it was night and time for rest. We therefore put out our torch and lay down to sleep.

On awaking, it was some time ere we could collect our faculties so as to remember where we were, and we were in much uncertainty as to whether it was early or late. We saw by the faint light that it was day, but could not guess at the hour; so Jack proposed that he should dive out and reconnoitre.

‘No, Jack,’ said I, ‘do you rest here. You’ve had enough to do during the last few days. Rest yourself now, and take care of Peterkin, while I go out to see what the pirates are about. I’ll be very careful not to expose myself, and I’ll bring you word again in a short time.’

‘Very well, Ralph,’ answered Jack, ‘please yourself, but don’t be long; and if you’ll take my advice you’ll go in your clothes, for I would like to have some fresh coconuts, and climbing trees without clothes is uncomfortable, to say the least of it.’

‘The pirates will be sure to keep a sharp look-out,’ said Peterkin, ‘so, pray, be careful.’

‘No fear,’ said I; ‘good-bye.’

‘Good-bye,’ answered my comrades.

And while the words were yet sounding in my ears, I plunged into the water, and in a few seconds found myself in the open air. On rising, I was careful to come up gently and to breathe softly, while I kept close in beside the rocks; but, as I observed no one near me, I crept slowly out, and ascended the cliff a step at a time, till I obtained a full view of the shore. No pirates were to be seen–even their boat was gone; but as it was possible they might have hidden themselves, I did not venture too boldly forward. Then it occurred to me to look out to sea, when, to my surprise, I saw the pirate schooner sailing away almost hull down on the horizon! On seeing this I uttered a shout of joy. Then my first impulse was to dive back to tell my companions the good news; but I checked myself, and ran to the top of the cliff, in order to make sure that the vessel I saw was indeed the pirate schooner. I looked long and anxiously at her, and giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, said aloud: Yes, there she goes; the villains have been baulked of their prey this time at least.’

‘Not so sure of that!’ said a deep voice at my side; while, at the same moment, a heavy hand grasped my shoulder, and held it as if in a vice.

My heart seemed to leap into my throat at the words; and, turning round, I beheld a man of immense stature and fierce aspect regarding me with a smile of contempt. He was a white man–that is to say, he was a man of European blood, though his face, from long exposure to the weather, was deeply bronzed. His dress was that of a common seaman, except that he had on a Greek skullcap, and wore a broad shawl of the richest silk round his waist. In this shawl were placed two pair of pistols and a heavy cutlass. He wore a beard and moustache, which, like the locks on his head, were short, curly, and sprinkled with grey hairs.

‘So, youngster,’ he said, with a sardonic smile, while I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulder, ‘the villains have been baulked of their prey, have they? We shall see, we shall see. Now, you whelp, look yonder.’ As he spoke, the pirate uttered a shrill whistle. In a second or two it was answered, and the pirate boat rowed round the point at the Water Garden, and came rapidly towards us. ‘Now, go, make a fire on that point; and hark’ee, youngster, if you try to run away, I’ll send a quick and sure messenger after you,’ and he pointed significantly at his pistols.

I obeyed in silence, and as I happened to have the burning-glass in my pocket, a fire was speedily kindled, and a thick smoke ascended into the air. It had scarcely appeared for two minutes when the boom of a gun rolled over the sea, and, looking up, I saw that the schooner was making for the island again. It now flashed across me that this was a ruse on the part of the pirates, and that they had sent their vessel away, knowing that it would lead us to suppose that they had left altogether. But there was no use of regret now. I was completely in their power, so I stood helplessly beside the pirate watching the crew of the boat as they landed on the beach. For an instant I contemplated rushing over the cliff into the sea, but this I saw I could not now accomplish, as some of the men were already between me and the water.

There was a good deal of jesting at the success of their scheme, as the crew ascended the rocks and addressed the man who had captured me by the title of captain. They were a ferocious set of men, with shaggy beards and scowling brows. All of them were armed with cutlasses and pistols, and their costumes were, with trifling variations, similar to that of the captain. As I looked from one to the other, and observed the low scowling brows, that never unbent, even when the men laughed, and the mean, rascally expression that sat on each face, I felt that my life hung by a hair.

‘But where are the other cubs?’ cried one of the men, with an oath that made me shudder. “I’ll swear to it there were three, at least, if not more.’

‘You hear what he says, whelp; where are the other dogs?’ said the captain.

‘If you mean my companions,’ said I, in a low voice, ‘I won’t tell you.’

A loud laugh burst from the crew at this answer.

The pirate captain looked at me in surprise. Then drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it and said: ‘Now, youngster, listen to me. I’ve no time to waste here. If you don’t tell me all you know, I’ll blow your brains out! Where are your comrades?’

For an instant I hesitated, not knowing what to do in this extremity. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.

‘Villain,’ said I, shaking my clenched fist in his face, ‘to blow my brains out would make short work of me, and be soon over. Death by drowning is as sure, and the agony prolonged, yet, I tell you to your face, if you were to toss me over yonder cliff into the sea, I would not tell you where my companions are, and I dare you to try me!’

The pirate captain grew white with rage as I spoke. ‘Say you so?’ cried he, uttering a fierce oath. ‘Here lads, take him by the legs and heave him in–quick!’

The men, who were utterly silenced with surprise at my audacity, advanced and seized me, and, as they carried me towards the cliff, I congratulated myself not a little on the success of my scheme, for I knew that once in the water I should be safe, and could rejoin Jack and Peterkin in the cave. But my hopes were suddenly blasted by the captain crying out: ‘Hold on, lads, hold on. We’ll give him a taste of the thumbscrews before throwing him to the sharks. Away with him into the boat. Look alive! the breeze is freshening.’

The men instantly raised me shoulder high, and hurrying down the rocks, tossed me into the bottom of the boat, where I lay for some time stunned with the violence of my fall.

On recovering sufficiently to raise myself on my elbow, I perceived that we were already outside the coral reef, and close alongside the schooner, which was of small size and clipper built. I had only time to observe this much when I received a severe kick on the side from one of the men, who ordered me, in a rough voice, to jump aboard. Rising hastily I clambered up the side. In a few minutes the boat was hoisted on deck, the vessel’s head put close to the wind, and the Coral Island dropped slowly astern as we beat up against a head sea.

Immediately after coming aboard, the crew were too busily engaged in working the ship and getting in the boat to attend to me, so I remained leaning against the bulwarks close to the gangway, watching their operations. I was surprised to find that there were no guns of any kind in the vessel, which had more of the appearance of a fast-sailing trader than a pirate. But I was struck with the neatness of everything. The brass work of the binnacle and about the tiller, as well as the copper belaying-pins, were as brightly polished as if they had just come from the foundry. The decks were pure white, and smooth. The masts were clean-scraped and varnished, except at the cross-trees and truck, which were painted black. The standing and running rigging was in the most perfect order, and the sails white as snow. In short, everything, from the single narrow red stripe on her low black hull to the trucks on her tapering masts, evinced an amount of care and strict discipline that would have done credit to a ship of the Royal Navy. There was nothing lumbering or unseemly about the vessel, excepting, perhaps, a boat, which lay on the deck with its keel up between the fore and mainmasts. It seemed disproportionately large for the schooner; but, when I saw that the crew amounted to between thirty and forty men, I concluded that this boat was held in reserve, in case of any accident compelling the crew to desert the vessel.

As I have before said, the costumes of the men were similar to that of the captain. But in head gear they differed not only from him but from each other, some wearing the ordinary straw hat of the merchant service, while others wore cloth caps and red worsted nightcaps. I observed that all their arms were sent below; the captain only retaining his cutlass and a single pistol in the folds of his shawl. Although the captain was the tallest and most powerful man in the ship, he did not strikingly excel many of his men in this respect, and the only difference that an ordinary observer would have noticed was, a certain degree of open candour, straightforward daring, in the bold, ferocious expression of his face, which rendered him less repulsive than his low-browed associates, but did not by any means induce the belief that he was a hero. This look was, however, the indication of that spirit which gave him the pre-eminence among the crew of desperadoes who called him captain. He was a lion-like villain; totally devoid of personal fear, and utterly reckless of consequences, and, therefore, a terror to his men, who individually hated him, but unitedly felt it to be their advantage to have him at their head.

But my thoughts soon reverted to the dear companions whom I had left on shore, and as I turned towards the Coral Island, which was now far away to leeward, I sighed deeply, and the tears rolled slowly down my cheeks as I thought that I might never see them more.

‘So you’re blubbering, are you, you obstinate whelp?’ said the deep voice of the captain, as he came up and gave me a box on the ear that nearly felled me to the deck. ‘I don’t allow any such weakness aboard o’ this ship. So dap a stopper on your eyes or I’ll give you something to cry for.’

I flushed with indignation at this rough and cruel treatment, but felt that giving way to anger would only make matters worse, so I made no reply, but took out my handkerchief and dried my eyes.

‘I thought you were made of better stuff,’ continued the captain, angrily; I’d rather have a mad bulldog aboard than a water-eyed puppy. But I’ll cure you, lad, or introduce you to the sharks before long. Now go below, and stay there till I call you.’

As I walked forward to obey, my eye fell on a small keg standing by the side of the mainmast, on which the word gunpowder was written in pencil. It immediately flashed across me that, as we were beating up against the wind, anything floating in the sea would be driven on the reef encircling the Coral Island. I also recollected–for thought is more rapid than the lightning–that my old companions had a pistol. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, I lifted the keg from the deck and tossed it into the sea! An exclamation of surprise burst from the captain and some of the men who witnessed this act of mine.

Striding up to me, and uttering fearful imprecations, the captain raised his hand to strike me, while he shouted: ‘Boy! whelp! what mean you by that?’

‘If you lower your hand,’ said I, in a loud voice, while I felt the blood rush to my temples, ‘I’ll tell you. Until you do so I’m dumb!’

The captain stepped back and regarded me with a look of amazement.

‘Now,’ continued I, ‘I threw that keg into the sea because the wind and waves will carry it to my friends on the Coral Island, who happen to have a pistol, but no powder. I hope that it will reach them soon, and my only regret is that the keg was not a bigger one. Moreover, pirate, you said just now that you thought I was made of better stuff! I don’t know what stuff I am made of–I never thought much about that subject; but I’m quite certain of this, that I am made of such stuff as the like of you shall never tame, though you should do your worst.’

To my surprise the captain, instead of flying into a rage, smiled, and, thrusting his hand into the voluminous shawl that encircled his waist, turned on his heel and walked aft, while I went below.

Here, instead of being rudely handled, as I had expected, the men received me with a shout of laughter, and one of them, patting me on the back, said: ‘Well done, lad! you’re a brick, and I have no doubt will turn out a rare cove. Bloody Bill, there, was just such a fellow as you are, and he’s now the biggest cutthroat of us all.’

‘Take a can of beer, lad,’ cried another, ‘and wet your whistle after that speech o’ your’n to the captain. If any one o’ us had made it, youngster, he would have had no whistle to wet by this time.’

‘Stop your clapper, Jack,’ vociferated a third; ‘give the boy a junk o’ meat. Don’t you see he’s a’most goin’ to kick the bucket?’

‘And no wonder,’ said the first speaker, with an oath, ‘after the tumble you gave him into the boat. I guess it would have broke your neck if you had got it.’

I did indeed feel somewhat faint; which was owing, doubtless, to the combined effects of ill-usage and hunger; for it will be recollected that I had dived out of the cave that morning before breakfast, and it was now near midday. I therefore gladly accepted a plate of boiled pork and a yam, which were handed to me by one of the men from the locker on which some of the crew were seated eating their dinner. But I must add that the zest with which I ate my meal was much abated in consequence of the frightful oaths and the terrible language that flowed from the lips of these godless men, even in the midst of their hilarity and good humour. The man who had been alluded to as Bloody Bill was seated near me, and I could not help wondering at the moody silence he maintained among his comrades. He did indeed reply to their questions in a careless, offhand tone, but he never volunteered a remark. The only difference between him and the others was his taciturnity and his size, for he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain.

During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own reflections, which were anything but agreeable, for I could not banish from my mind the threat about the thumbscrews, of the nature and use of which I had a vague but terrible conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy fate when, just after nightfall, one of the watch on deck called down the hatchway:

‘Hallo, there! one o’ you, tumble up and light the cabin lamp, and send that boy aft to the captain–sharp!’

‘Now then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants you. Look alive,’ said Bloody Bill, raising his huge frame from the locker on which he had been asleep for the last two hours. He sprang up the ladder and I instantly followed him, and, going aft, was shown into the cabin by one of the men, who closed the door after me.

A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim soft light over the cabin, which was a small apartment, and comfortably but plainly furnished. Seated on a camp-stool at the table, and busily engaged in examining a chart of the Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I entered, and, in a quiet voice, bade me be seated, while he threw down his pencil, and, rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at the upper end of the cabin.

‘Boy,’ said he, looking me full in the face, ‘what is your name?’

‘Ralph Rover,’ I replied.

‘Where did you come from, and how came you to be on that island? How many companions had you on it? Answer me, now, and mind you tell no lies.’

‘I never tell lies,’ said I, firmly.

The captain received this reply with a cold sarcastic smile, and bade me answer his questions.

I then told him the history of myself and my companions from the time we sailed till the day of his visit to the island, taking care, however, to make no mention of the Diamond Cave. After I had concluded, he was silent for a few minutes; then, looking up, he said: ‘Boy, I believe you.’

I was surprised at this remark, for I could not imagine why he should not believe me. However, I made no reply.

‘And what,’ continued the captain, ‘makes you think that this schooner is a pirate?’

‘The black flag,’ said I, ‘showed me what you are; and if any further proof were wanting I have had it in the brutal treatment I have received at your hands.’

The captain frowned as I spoke, but subduing his anger he continued: ‘Boy, you are too bold. I admit that we treated you roughly, but that was because you made us lose time and gave us a good deal of trouble. As to the black flag, that is merely a joke that my fellows play off upon people sometimes in order to frighten them. It is their humour, and does no harm. I am no pirate, boy, but a lawful trader–a rough one, I grant you, but one can’t help that in these seas, where there are so many pirates on the water and such murderous blackguards on the land. I carry on a trade in sandal-wood with the Feejee Islands; and if you choose, Ralph, to behave yourself and be a good boy, I’ll take you along with me and give you a good share of the profits. You see, I’m in want of an honest boy like you, to look after the cabin and keep the log, and superintend the traffic on shore sometimes. What say you, Ralph, would you like to become a sandal-wood trader?’

I was much surprised by this explanation, and a good deal relieved to find that the vessel, after all, was not a pirate; but instead of replying I said: ‘If it be as you state, then why did you take me from my island, and why do you not now take me back?’

The captain smiled as he replied: ‘I took you off in anger, boy, and I’m sorry for it. I would even now take you back, but we are too far away from it. See, there it is,’ he added, laying his finger on the chart, ‘and we are here–fifty miles at least. It would not be fair to my men to put about now, for they have all an interest in the trade.’

I could make no reply to this; so, after a little more conversation, I agreed to become one of the crew, at least until we could reach some civilized island where I might be put ashore. The captain assented to this proposition, and after thanking him for the promise, I left the cabin and went on deck with feelings that ought to have been lighter, but which were, I could not tell why, marvellously heavy and uncomfortable still.

Three weeks after the conversation narrated in the last chapter, I was standing on the quarterdeck of the schooner watching the gambols of a shoal of porpoises that swam round us. It was dead calm. One of those still, hot, sweltering days, so common in the Pacific, when Nature seems to have gone to sleep, and the only thing in water or in air that proves her still alive, is her long, deep breathing, in the swell of the mighty sea. No cloud floated in the deep blue above; no ripple broke the reflected blue below.

No sound broke on our ears save the soft puff now and then of a porpoise, the slow creak of the masts, as we swayed gently on the swell, the patter of the reef-points, and the occasional flap of the hanging sails. An awning covered the fore and after parts of the schooner, under which the men composing the watch on deck lolled in sleepy indolence, overcome with excessive heat. Bloody Bill, as the men invariably called him, was standing at the tiller, but his post for the present was a sinecure, and he whiled away the time by alternately gazing in dreamy abstraction at the compass in the binnacle, and by walking to the taffrail in order to spit into the sea. In one of these turns he came near to where I was standing, and, leaning over the side, looked long and earnestly down into the blue wave.

This man, although he was always taciturn and often surly, was the only human being on board with whom I had the slightest desire to become better acquainted. The other men, seeing that I did not relish their company, and knowing that I was a protege of the captain, treated me with total indifference. Bloody Bill, it is true, did the same; but as this was his conduct towards every one else, it was not peculiar in reference to me. Once or twice I tried to draw him into conversation, but he always turned away after a few cold monosyllables. As he now leaned over the taffrail close beside me, I said to him:

‘Bill, why is it that you are so gloomy? Why do you never speak to anyone?’

Bill smiled slightly as he replied: ‘Why, I s’pose it’s because I haint got nothin’ to say!’

‘That’s strange,’ said I, musingly; ‘you look like a man that could think, and such men usually speak.’

‘So they can, youngster,’ rejoined Bill, somewhat sternly; ‘and I could speak too if I had a mind to, but what’s the use o’ speakin’ here? The men only open their mouths to curse and swear, an’ they seem to find it entertainin’; but I don’t, so I hold my tongue.’

‘Well, Bill, that’s true, and I would rather not hear you speak at all than hear you speak like the other men; but I don’t swear, Bill, so you might talk to me sometimes, I think. Besides, I’m weary of spending day after day in this way, without a single soul to say a pleasant word to. I’ve been used to friendly conversation, Bill, and I really would take it kind if you would talk with me a little now and then.’

Bill looked at me in surprise, and I thought I observed a sad expression pass across his sunburnt face.

‘An’ where have you been used to friendly conversation said Bill, looking down again into the sea; ‘not on that Coral Island, I take it?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said I, energetically: ‘I have spent many of the happiest months in my life on that Coral Island’; and without waiting to be further questioned, I launched out into a glowing account of the happy life that Jack and Peterkin and I had spent together, and related minutely every circumstance that befell us while on the island.

‘Boy, boy,’ said Bill, in a voice so deep that it startled me, ‘this is no place for you.’

‘That’s true,’ said I; ‘I’m of little use on board, and I don’t like my comrades; but I can’t help it, and at any rate I hope to be free again soon.’

‘Free?’ said Bill, looking at me in surprise.

‘Yes, free,’ returned I; ‘the captain said he would put me ashore after this trip was over.’

‘This trip! Hark’ee, boy,’ said Bill, lowering his voice, ‘what said the captain to you the day you came aboard?’

‘He said that he was a trader in sandal-wood and no pirate, and told me that if I would join him for this trip he would give me a good share of the profits or put me on shore in some civilized island if I chose.’

Bill’s brows lowered savagely as he muttered: ‘Ay, he said truth when he told you he was a sandal-wood trader, but he lied when–’

‘Sail ho!’ shouted the look-out at the mast-head.

‘Where away?’ cried Bill, springing to the tiller; while the men, startled by the sudden cry, jumped up and gazed round the horizon.

‘On the starboard quarter, hull down sir,’ answered the look-out.

At this moment the captain came on deck, and mounting into the rigging, surveyed the sail through the glass. Then sweeping his eye round the horizon he gazed steadily at a particular point.

‘Take in top-sails!’ shouted the captain, swinging himself down on the deck by the main-back stay.

‘Take in top-sails!’ roared the first mate.

‘Ay, ay, sir-r-r!’ answered the men as they sprang into the rigging and went aloft like cats.

Instantly all was bustle on board the hitherto quiet schooner. The top-sails were taken in and stowed, the men stood by the sheets and halyards, and the captain gazed anxiously at the breeze which was now rushing towards us like a sheet of dark blue. In a few seconds it struck me. The schooner trembled as if in surprise at the sudden onset, while she fell away, then bending gracefully to the wind, as though in acknowledgement of her subjection, she cut through the waves with her sharp prow like a dolphin, while Bill directed her course towards the strange sail.

In half an hour we neared her sufficiently to make out that she was a schooner, and, from the clumsy appearance of her masts and sails we judged her to be a trader. She evidently did not like our appearance, for, the instant the breeze reached her, she crowded all sail and showed us her stern. As the breeze had moderated a little our top-sails were again shaken out, and it soon became evident that we doubled her speed and would overhaul her speedily. When within a mile we hoisted British colours, but receiving no acknowledgement, the captain ordered a shot to be fired across her bows. In a moment, to my surprise, a large portion of the bottom of the boat amidships was removed, and in the hole thus exposed appeared an immense brass gun. It worked on a swivel and was elevated by means of machinery. It was quickly loaded and fired. The heavy ball struck the water a few yards ahead of the chase, and, ricochetting into the air, plunged into the sea a mile beyond it.

This produced the desired effect. The strange vessel backed her top-sails and hove-to, while we ranged up and lay-to, about a hundred yards off.

‘Lower the boat,’ cried the captain.

In a second the boat was lowered and manned by a part of the crew, who were all armed with cutlasses and pistols. As the captain passed me to get into it, he said: ‘Jump into the stern sheets, Ralph, I may want you.’ I obeyed, and in ten minutes more we were standing on the stranger’s deck. We were all much surprised at the sight that met our eyes. Instead of a crew of such sailors as we were accustomed to see, there were only fifteen blacks standing on the quarterdeck and regarding us with looks of undisguised alarm. They were totally unarmed and most of them unclothed; one or two, however, wore portions of European attire. One had a pair of duck trousers which were much too large for him and stuck out in a most ungainly manner. Another wore nothing but the common scanty native garment round the loins, and a black beaver hat. But the most ludicrous personage of all, and one who seemed to be chief, was a tall middle-aged man, of a mild, simple expression of countenance, who wore a white cotton shirt, a swallow-tailed coat, and a straw hat, while his black brawny legs were totally uncovered below the knees.

‘Where’s the commander of this ship?’ inquired our captain, stepping up to this individual.

‘I is capin,’ he answered, taking off his straw hat and making a low bow.

‘You!’ said our captain, in surprise. ‘Where do you come from, and where are you bound? What cargo have you aboard?’

‘We is come,’ answered the man with the swallowtail, ‘from Aitutaki; we was go for Rarotonga. We is native miss’nary ship; our name is de Olive Branch; an’ our cargo is two tons coconuts, seventy pigs, twenty cats, and de gosp’L’

This announcement was received by the crew of our vessel with a shout of laughter, which, however, was peremptorily checked by the captain, whose expression instantly changed from one of severity to that of rank urbanity as he advanced towards the missionary and shook him warmly by the hand.

‘I am very glad to have fallen in with you,’ said he, ‘and I wish you much success in your missionary labours. Pray take me to your cabin, as I wish to converse with you privately.’

The missionary immediately took him by the hand, and as he led him away I heard him saying: ‘Me most glad to find you trader; we t’ought you be pirate. You very like one ’bout the masts.’

What conversation the captain had with this man I never heard, but he came on deck again in a quarter of an hour, and, shaking hands cordially with the missionary, ordered us into our boat and returned to the schooner, which was immediately put before the wind. In a few minutes the Olive Branch was left far behind us.

That afternoon, as I was down below at dinner, I heard the men talking about this curious ship.

‘I wonder,’ said one, ‘why our captain looked so sweet on yon swallow-tailed super-cargo o’ pigs and gospels. If it had been an ordinary trader, now, he would have taken as many o’ the pigs as he required and sent the ship with all on board to the bottom.’

‘Why, Dick, you must be new to these seas if you do. . .