CHAPTER VIII--Of an Encounter with an Algerine Corsair
The _Gannet_ was bowling along under easy sail some fifty miles south ofMajorca. Three years of seatime had made a great difference in herappearance. Her speed was retarded by the presence of a thick vegetablegrowth on her bottom, her sails had lost their pristine beauty, whileher sides, though often repainted, bore signs of the effect of torridheat and the buffeting of the waves. Her crew, too, had undergoneconsiderable changes; wounds and disease had reduced the number of hergallant men, while those who were left were now well-seasoned anddisciplined.
Of the ship's officers only three had gone to their last account--themaster, who had fallen a victim to the dreaded "yellow jack", and two ofthe midshipmen. Thus, including myself, there were but five midshipmenon board, all of whom were as efficient as Captain Poynings coulddesire.
I was now nearly seventeen years of age--bronzed, hardy, andwell-grown--and would easily have passed for twenty.
On this particular day it was about noon when the lookout reported asail hull down on our starboard bow. In less than an hour she hadapparently sighted us, for she altered her course so as to make straightfor us. Now this was an unusual occurrence, as the stranger must eitherbe a hostile craft or else a ship in distress and wishing tocommunicate. Her speed was too great to justify the assumption that shewas requiring assistance, so all hands were piped to quarters. Aftermonths of inaction the prospect of a fight acted like magic.
The officers held a consultation, and as it was well known that aBarbary corsair had been committing several acts of exceptionalviolence, hopes were entertained that the stranger would prove to bethat particular vessel.
Our captain showed himself to be a tactician as well as a fighter. "Ifthis be the Algerine," he said, "her speed will enable her to make offwhen she finds out who we are. It remains, therefore, to trick andentice her to us. See that all our ordnance is run in and the portsclosed. Keep nearly all the men out of sight, and run the flag ofSicily up to the peak. And you, Master Bennet," he added, addressingour newly made master, "lay me the _Gannet_ close alongside the strangerand your duty will be done. Now, gentlemen, to your stations, and Godsave His Majesty King Charles!"
The work of transforming the man-of-war into a seemingly peacefulmerchantman was quickly performed, and long before the corsair (for suchthere was no doubt she was) came within range the _Gannet_ wasfloundering along with yards badly squared, for all the world like ahelpless trader, her course having been previously altered as if shewere intent on running away.
But on board everything was different. At each of her guns on thestarboard side were men lying prone on the deck, waiting for the signalto trice up the ports, run the guns out, and deliver a crushingbroadside. Powder, shot, and buckets of water were placed close athand, while boarding axes, pikes, cutlasses, muskets, and pistols werelying about ready to be seized when required.
The men themselves were in a state of suppressed excitement, talkingsoftly to one another, and with difficulty restraining themselves fromtaking a view of their enemy and thus exposing our strength.
The officers, hidden under the break of the poop, had donned their buffcoats, head- and back-plates, and plumed hats, and were as impatient asthe men to get to quarters.
My station, with young Drake, was on the gundeck, yet I could not resistthe inclination of creeping aft and looking at the Algerine through oneof our stern ports.
She was now tearing along at a tremendous pace, barely a quarter of amile astern. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and she was beingpropelled by oars as well as by sails; yet a stern chase is always along one.
Thinking us an easy prey, she made no hesitation in showing her truecolours, while groups of dark-skinned men, the sweepings of the Barbaryports, clustered on her high foc's'le, yelling and waving their arms ina truly terrifying manner. The sounds of the oars, the rattling of thechains of the miserable galley slaves, and the sharp crack of the whipof the merciless taskmaster could be distinctly heard, while ever andanon a gun would be fired, merely to impress upon us the fruitlessnessof resistance.
At length she drew up about fifty yards from our starboard quarter, andeven at that short distance they did not scent danger, their eagernessblinding them to the fact that twenty-five closed ports separated themfrom a death-dealing hail of iron.
I ran back to my station. The word was passed round to fire high andspare the slaves. All along the main deck there were groups of menstanding in almost total darkness, waiting at the gun tackles for thesignal to run out the guns. The feeble glimmer of the fighting-lanternsshone on the glistening arms and bodies of half-naked seamen, who stoodin almost deathlike silence listening to the shouts of their unseenfoes.
Suddenly came the order to fire. The ports were triced up, andbrilliant sunshine flooded the gundeck. With the creaking of thetackles and the rumbling of the gun-carriage wheels, the muzzles of theiron monsters were run through the ports. There was no need to takeaim, for the vessels were almost side by side. The volley that followedshook the _Gannet_ from keel to truck and filled the deck with clouds ofsmoke.
Back ran the guns with the recoil, sponges and rammers did their work,and again the guns roared--this time in an irregular broadside.
Four times was this repeated, the guns' crews working as calmly as if atpractice. How it fared with the pirate we knew not. Occasionally,between the clouds of smoke, we could catch a glimpse of her blacksides, crushed and torn by our broadsides. A musket ball came inthrough an open port and struck a seaman fairly between the eyes. Hefell without a sound, and this was the only casualty on the main deck.Seeing he was dead, two seamen dragged him across to the other side andpushed his body through a port. A bucketful of sand was sprinkled onthe spot where he fell, and the gun at which he was stationed was runout again.
Suddenly there was a crashing, grinding sound. The master had laid usalongside the corsair.
"Boarders, away!" was the order, and, hastily closing the ports, toprevent our being boarded in turn, the whole of the men below poured ondeck, armed with whatever weapon came first to their hands.
The vessels lay side by side, locked in an unyielding embrace. Ourordnance had wrought havoc on the corsair, her huge lateen yards lyingathwart her decks, while heaps of dead and dying men encumbered herslippery planks. But the remnant still resisted, and for us thecompletion of our victory was to be dearly bought. We had alreadysuffered considerably, many men having been slain on our fo'c'sle andpoop, and now, headed by our gallant Captain Poynings, we threwourselves upon the foemen's deck, where we met with a desperateresistance. The corsairs knew that surrender meant an ignominiousdeath, and fought with the courage of despair, calling on Allah andMohammed as they slew or were slain.
Inch by inch they were driven back, pistolled or cut down or thrustoverboard, till there remained but one Moslem, a tall, wiry villain,armed with pistol and scimitar. Two of our men went down before him,one having his skull cloven by a lightning sweep of the corsair'srazorlike blade, the other having his sword arm cut completely throughat the wrist. Two more rushed at him; one he shot, the second receivedthe discharged pistol full in the face. With that several men made readyto shoot him down; but our lieutenant called on them to desist, and hehimself advanced on the redoubtable Moslem.
The combat was watched with breathless interest, for Geoffrey Weaver wasa past master in the art of fencing, having acquired both the French andItalian methods, as well as having seen active service against Spaniardsand Turks, and also in the Low Countries. In a measure he had anadvantage, wearing his breastplate; yet as the scimitar is rarely usedsave for cutting, the armour did not serve him as readily as it wouldhave done if he had been pitted against a man armed with a pointedsword.
Their blades met, and so quick was the swordplay that none could followit. In a few seconds both were wounded, the blood trickling down thelieutenant's face from a nick on the forehead. Then, quicker than words,Weaver escaped a sweeping blow
from the scimitar by jumping nimblybackwards, and the next moment his blade had passed through the Moslem'sshoulder.
With this, thinking the fight at an end, we began to cheer lustily; butour triumph was shortlived, for, ere the lieutenant could disengage hisweapon, the corsair seized him round the waist and sprang with him intothe sea.
We rushed to the side, but only a few bubbles came to the surface.Carried down by the weight of his armour, Weaver sank like a stone, andhis implacable foe, holding on with a relentless grip, shared his fate.
However, there was no time for vain regrets, and all hands were set towork to repair the damage done by the fight. Our losses were heavy:besides the lieutenant, two midshipmen, the bos'n, and sixteen men werekilled, and the purser and thirty-three men wounded.
On the Algerine all her crew were accounted for, not one surviving;while, in spite of our care, the losses amongst the galley slaves werefearful. A few stray shots and a shower of splinters had wroughtdestruction on these helpless chained-up wretches, and the gratitude ofthe survivors when we knocked their fetters off was touching to witness.There were Spaniards, Genoese, Venetians, French, and Dutch, negroes,and one Englishman, a man from Hull--twenty-three all told, most of whomwere wounded.
The prize was badly shattered, but little damage was done near thewaterline. The _Gannet_ suffered hardly at all, the corsairs, beingunprepared for resistance, having neglected to use their two pieces ofbrass ordnance.
The bodies of the dead were committed to the deep, the wounded attendedto, and the decks cleaned of their ghastly stains, while a party ofseamen were placed on board the prize to rig jury masts.
When I went down below, to clean the grime of the powder from my faceand hands, I found that I had received a slight cut on the calf of myleg. How or when it was done I could not remember, but it was tootrifling to be attended to by the surgeon, so I dressed it myself.
While thus engaged I was sent for by the captain, and on reportingmyself he said:
"Master Wentworth, I have been fully satisfied with your conduct in thefight, and although you are young in years you have a man's head on yourshoulders. You will now have your first command, for I propose to putyou in charge of the prize with seven men to work her. You must keep incompany with the _Gannet_ till off the Barbary coast, where you willhave to shape a course for Tangier, which now belongs to His MajestyKing Charles. Should we be compelled to part company, I will rely onyou to work the ship into that port. You can, of course, use asextant?"
I assented.
"Very well, here is a plan of the harbour of Tangier. This place,"indicating the mole, "is where you must bring up. Now go to the masterand get the necessary charts and instruments, and take charge of theprize as soon as possible."
I saluted and left his cabin, feeling inclined to dance for joy, yethaving sufficient dignity left to walk sedately across the quarterdeck.
When I gained the gunroom I told the news with unrestrained enthusiasm,and my remaining companions, now reduced to two in number, GrevilleDrake and Alan Wood, though not slow in offering their congratulations,did not conceal the fact that my good fortune was their disappointment.
By nightfall the fitting of the jury masts was completed, the shot holeswere plugged, and the working party was recalled. Then, with my sevenmen, together with two of the liberated slaves, I took possession of theprize, having, with Captain Poyning's permission, named her the _LittleGannet_.