Part 10

When morning dawned, the Frenchman was still ploughing along the coast in the light breeze, with all sail set. But there was not wind enough to force her ahead of her pursuer. The _Duchess_ now returned from her chase of the Lima boat, and, joining her _Duke_, bore in upon the able fighter from the open sea.

"Egad! We'll have her yet," shouted Captain Rogers, rubbing his hands.

"She luffs!" cried a lieutenant. "She's coming to!"

Sure enough the Frenchman saw that resistance now was useless. She staggered into the wind, and a white flag beckoned for a prize-crew to come and take her.

"And," writes Captain Rogers, "I found that a Bishop who had been aboard of her, had been put ashore, which gave me much grief. For I always love to catch fat prelates, as they give up a stout sum as their ransom. In truth they are nice pickings."

Things were going well with the wild rovers from Bristol. Plunder there was aplenty and the holds of the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ bulged with treasure. Yet Woodes Rogers was not satisfied.

"On! On to Guayaquil!" cried he. "We'll capture this wealthy city; demand a great ransom; and sail to England, richer than the Spanish conquerors of the Incas."

"Hurrah!" shouted his staunch followers. "On! On! to Guayaquil!"

So--steering for the coast of Ecuador--the privateers drew near this rich Spanish-American town. A gulf lay before their eyes in which was a small island; with a little, white-housed village (called Puna) on its Eastern shore.

"Take the place!" cried Rogers, as the two ships forged into the sleepy shallows, and rounded to before the peaceful habitation.

With a cheer, the sailors piled into the boats, rowed ashore, and--with cutlass and dirk in hand--pressed through the narrow streets. Shots rang out from a few of the thatched houses; two seamen fell to the ground with mortal wounds; but, cheering wildly, the privateers rushed through the narrow highway; pressed into the court-house; and seized upon the Lieutenant-Governor of the town of Guayaquil, as he was attempting to hide behind an old clothes-press.

"Let no man get away in order to warn the large town of our approach!" shouted Captain Rogers. "Catch all who dash for the canoes upon the beach!"

"Crush the bloomin' canoes!" yelled Cook, as he saw some of the natives running towards them on the sandy shore. "Crush the canoes before the devils can get there!"

"All right!" answered several of his men, as they ran for the clusters of boats. "We'll put holes in them!"

As they hurried forward, several of the natives were ahead. Two jumped into the bark boats and paddled furiously for Guayaquil. The _zip_, _zip_ of bullets nipped the water around them, but,--with desperate sweeps--they dug their blades into the sea and got safely off. As a result, the city was all ready and prepared for the invaders.

"Ho! Ho!" laughed Rogers, as he thumbed the papers of the Lieutenant-Governor. "What is this?"

"A warning to the townsfolk of Guayaquil," said one of his men, as he peered over his shoulder.

Rogers chuckled.

"Beware, all you people"--he read--"of a squadron from the faraway isles of Great Britain which is coming shortly upon you. There will be full ten great ships, heavily manned and well armed for attack. The arch rogue, William Dampier, will be in control,--he who has plundered Puna before. Be on your guard, citizens! Be prepared! Arm yourselves!"

"Hah! Hah!" laughed the free-booting captain. "They think I'm Dampier. That's good. But we'll have a tough time with them, for they know that we mean to assault their pretty little town."

His followers looked solemn.

"Let's attack, right away," cried several, "before the Spaniards have time to prepare for our charge!"

Rogers, however, would not hear of it.

"We must rest. Equip ourselves. Place cannon in the bows of our boats, and then we will be ready."

His men murmured, but they knew that when Rogers had made up his mind upon a thing, there was no use in endeavoring to dissuade him. So they collected what plunder was to be had and awaited his further orders.

Two days later all was ready for the advance. It was near midnight--upon April 22nd,--when the command was passed around:

"Muffle your oars and take the town!"

With one hundred and ten men in the jolly boats, the privateers neared the sleepy, little seaport. Not a sound broke the silence, save the drip, drip of the sweeps, yet, as they approached the white-washed walls of the lower town,--a bonfire was touched off upon the shore.

"'Tis well," whispered a stout sailor. "Now we can see to shoot!"

As he said this, many lights appeared in the houses of Guayaquil. The townspeople were wide awake.

"What means this, sirrah?" thundered Rogers at a native guide, who was piloting him to the shore.

The fellow had a ready answer.

"'Tis the celebration of All Saints Day," he answered smiling. "The people here are good Christians."

"They know that we are coming," growled the English captain, for, as the native spoke, a Spaniard upon the shore was heard to shout:

"Puna has been captured! The enemy is advancing! Arm! Arm!"

Bells clanged from the steeples of the little churches. Muskets and guns went off. Black masses could be seen surging into the streets. Cannon roared, and a screeching shot spun ahead of the on-coming boats.

"'Tis nothing," said Rogers. "The alarm has only just been given. Preparations are not complete and we can rush them, easily."

But Captain Cook had his own opinion upon the affair.

"The Buccaneers," said he, "never attack any large place after it is alarmed. My advice is to keep away."

"Don't go in," cried several. "Wait and rush them when they are not so well prepared."

Even the men seemed disinclined to advance.

Thus cautious counsel prevailed: the boats dropped down-stream again--about three miles below the town--and were joined by two small barques. They were prizes which had been recently captured. Here the flotilla lay while the cries in the city grew inaudible,--for the inhabitants saw that the attack had been avoided.

When flood-tide came, Captain Rogers once more ordered an advance upon the town.

"No! No!" argued Dover. "They are too well prepared. Night will cloak our movements, so we should then go on. I, myself, advise the sending of a trumpeter with a flag of truce. He shall propose that we make some trades with the people of this place."

"Your measure is half-hearted," said Rogers, with heat. "You are a craven knave. Let's rush the town like Englishmen and heroes!"

Again cautious counsel prevailed. Two prisoners--a Lieutenant from Puna, and the Captain of the Frenchman of recent capture--were sent to parley with the Spaniards.

"The English are afraid!" whispered the inhabitants. "Let us keep them off with braggadocio, and mayhap reinforcements will come to us."

So they bickered and delayed.

"These dogs would palaver forever," said Captain Rogers, when negotiations had proceeded for full two days without result. "I, for one, am for attacking the city right now!"

"Yes! On! On!" cried his men.

Even the cautious Dover was ready to advance; so, landing upon the beach, the one hundred and ten ran towards the town with a wild, exultant whoop!

_Zip! Zip!_ came the bullets from the nearer houses, as the privateers advanced.

_Boom! Boom!_ sounded the guns from the _Duchess_ and the _Duke_, which had edged up near the wharves and anchored. Shells shrieked and burst; guns roared; and, with a hoarse cheer, the English beat down two lines of Spaniards who opposed them.

Back, back, they crushed the defenders of Guayaquil to the market-place in the centre of the town, where four cannon were drawn up behind a barricade which was flanked by cavalry.

_Crash! Crash!_ they roared at the on-coming privateers, and many a man went down before the exploding grape and cannister. But the blood of the English was now up.

"Take the guns!" shouted Woodes Rogers. "Scale the barricade and spike the pieces!"

With a mighty roar the jack-tars ran for the engines of death; leaping over the wall of the defenses; bayonetting the gunners; turning the spitting war-engines upon the cavalry, which, in confusion and dismay, was driven down a crooked lane. It was the last stand. The English standard soon waved from the flag-pole of the House of Justice.

"And now," cried Captain Rogers, gleefully, "I'll meet the worthy _Padres_ and treat with them for a ransom. We'll make them pay full well to get back the neat little town of Guayaquil."

Crestfallen and abashed, the city fathers were soon brought before the privateer.

"Senor," said they, "your men can fight like devils. Senor, you are the first man to have taken our town, and many a Buccaneer has endeavored to do so!"

Captain Rogers smiled.

"Tut! Tut!" said he. "The English can always battle. But--Fathers--you must pay me well for this affair. I demand thirty thousand pieces of eight ($35,000 or about L6,750) as ransom for your fair city. I will give you two days in which to collect it."

The worthy _Padres_ hung their heads.

"You English," said they, "are cruel extortioners."

Yet--in two day's time--the British marched to their boats with colors flying, bugles blowing, and drums beating a rollicking tattoo. Captain Rogers brought up the rear with a few men. He had secured the ransom and fairly smiled with exuberant joy. "Our sailors," says he, "kept continually dropping their pistols, cutlasses, and pole-axes; which shows they had grown careless and very weak--weary of being soldiers--and it was high time that we should be gone from hence to the shores of Merrie England."

Thus, on April 28th, when the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ weighed anchor and stood out to sea: guns roared: trumpets blew: the men cheered.

"And so," writes the gallant Rogers, "we took leave of the Spaniards very cheerfully, but not half so well pleased as we should have been if we had taken 'em by surprise; for I was well assured from all hands, that at least we should then have got about two hundred thousand pieces of eight in money (L45,000 or $225,000); and in jewels, diamonds, and wrought and unwrought gold and silver."

* * * * *

The owners of the two privateers: the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_, sat in solemn meeting at the good town of Bristol. It was the month of October, 1711.

The fat Quakers were smiling, for Captain Rogers had brought them back equally fat moneys.

The rugged merchants laughed, for the venture had been a howling success.

"And you were wounded?" said a stockholder, turning to the bronzed sea-rover who stood before them, giving account and reckoning of his journey to the Spanish Main.

"A scratch," replied the stout sea-dog, smiling. "When we tackled a Manila ship on the way home from Guayaquil, I got a ball through the jaw, and a splinter in the left foot. It laid me up for full three weeks, but, gentlemen, a cat and Woodes Rogers both have nine lives."

And even the sober Quaker fathers laughed at this sally.

"You have done well," they said. "We will reward you with money and a good berth. How would you care to be Governor of the Bahamas?"

"Fine!" said Woodes Rogers, chuckling.

And that is the way the old sea-barnacle spent his declining years, dying at the tropic isle on July 16th, 1732. Hail to this Prince of Privateers!

TWILIGHT AT SEA

The twilight hours like birds flew by, As lightly and as free; Ten thousand stars were in the sky, Ten thousand on the sea; For every wave with dimpled face, That leaped up in the air, Had caught a star in its embrace, And held it trembling there.

FORTUNATUS WRIGHT

THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA

(1715-1765)

"It was a high counsel which I once heard given to a young person: 'Always do what you are afraid to do.'"--EMERSON.

FORTUNATUS WRIGHT

THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA

(1715-1765)

"'_Be sure you're right, then go ahead!_' was coined by Andrew Jackson, Who was a fighter, tough as nails, and loved to lay the whacks on, He followed out this sage advice, in spite of opposition, While everybody winked and said,--'_A Fellow with a Mission!_' In other days, in other climes, there lived a seaman daring, Who loved a fight, as well as he,--was just as good at swearing; His name was Wright, and thus in spite of all his foemen said, Old _Fortune_ Wright, was surely right, whene'er he went ahead!"

--_Chants of the Eastern Clipper Ships._--1846.

In the year 1744 war was declared between England and France. French privateers harried the coast of her rival, caught her merchantmen whenever they ventured away from stout men-o'-warsmen, and chased them in the blue, shimmering waters of the Mediterranean. It seemed as if there were never gun-boats enough to protect the British shipping, and thus many of the English merchants grew choleric and angry.

Englishmen carried on quite a trade with Italy, Greece, and the countries of Asia Minor, and at Leghorn--upon the Italian coast--they had numerous trading shops and docks for their own vessels. They began to suffer, not only great annoyance, but also great loss, from the depredations of the French privateers which swarmed about the harbor mouth and scurried into every corner of the ragged coast-line. Their trade was hampered, their ships compelled to remain in port, or--if they ventured out--they were inevitably captured. The situation was unbearable.

"My! My!" said one of the red-faced merchants. "My! My! We must have a remedy for this. My! My! We must have our own privateers!"

"Well spoken," cried another. "And I know the very man to help us out. He is living here, now, and his name is Fortunatus Wright. Gentlemen! I tell you he is a true sea-dog! He is the fellow to cripple these saucy, French bushwhackers of the sea."

"Hear! Hear!" cried others.

And thus Mr. Fortunatus Wright was sought for, and was asked:

"Will you take charge of a privateer for the British merchants of Leghorn? Will you chase these rascally Frenchmen? Will you cripple their operations? Will you chastise these sea-robbers?"

To this Mr. Fortunatus Wright, being a true seaman with the love of the salt water tugging at his heart strings, is said to have remarked,

"Whoop-ee!"

Which being interpreted means:

"Gentlemen, I'm dee-lighted!"

As luck would have it, there was a vessel lying in the harbor which was directly available. She was a brigantine called the _Fame_, and, although we know little about her tonnage and the number of stout sea-dogs whom she could carry, it is apparent that Fortunatus Wright considered her most admirably suited for his venture. At any rate he soon boarded her, swore in a crew of stalwart seamen, and saw that plenty of gunpowder, cutlasses, boarding-pikes and muskets were aboard.

It was September, 1746, and, before the close of the month of December, the _Fame_ had captured eighteen prizes, one of which was a hulking, French privateer with twenty guns and one hundred and fifty men, especially fitted out to put an end to the career of the vessel of Fortunatus Wright. They had met off the port of Messina and had had a roaring, little scrimmage, but--seeing that matters were going ill with him--the French captain had cried:

"Run for the shore! Run our ship aground! We will fix her so that this English hound cannot make a prize of us!"

"Voila! Voila!" his men had shouted. "Oui! We will f-e-e-x th-e-es Eengleesh chien! Oui! Au revoir, Monsieur Wright!"

So saying, the privateer had been run upon the sandy beach, bows on, where her crew took to the brush, yelling derisively at the _Fame_ as she came up within hail,--sails snug down so as to move cautiously.

The Frenchmen had counted without their host.

"We'll float her, my hearties!" cried Wright. "All hands ashore in the small boats. Tie hawsers to her stern and pull her off!"

This they did, while the French captain, far back in the brush, saw it and fairly boiled with disappointment and rage.

"Zees Wright," he blustered. "One cannot outweet heem."

So the privateer was towed into the harbor of Leghorn, where all the English merchants cried:

"Good! Good! Now we have a true man to fight our battles! Huzzah for Fortunatus Wright!"

The French were furious, while at the island of Malta (where were numerous French, Spanish, Austrian and English traders) the feeling grew intense. Here the Austrians sided with the English and several duels were fought by angry officers, as crafty Fortunatus Wright continued to send in his prizes.

Finally the French merchants forwarded a missive to Marseilles, in France, which ran:

"Can the French be further humiliated by this corsair--this robber--Fortunatus Wright? Let our people fit out a privateer sufficiently large to cope with him, and let her defeat and cripple this fellow. Make haste, for he is doing much damage!"

An answer came back.

"Before a month is gone, Monsieur Wright will no more harass your privateers. What we have determined to do, we shall do!"

Word of this was brought to Captain Fortunatus Wright and he only smiled broadly. "There'll be another ship to bring into Malta, care of F. Wright, Esq.," said he. "And it will be labelled Collect on Delivery."

Not three weeks later the French vessel came jauntily into the harbor of Malta. The captain was a man of considerable repute as a seaman and fighter, and he was warmly received by the French. They invited him to many dinners.

"Voila!" said they. "Here is the fellow to do the tr-e-e-k. Tenez! There will soon be one b-e-eg mince pie we-eth Captain Wright eenside. Ha! Ha!"

It is never well to count your chickens before they hatch or to pat a man upon the back before he has won a victory.

Eagerly the French captain cruised outside, continually upon the watch for slippery Skipper Wright. His vessel was superior to the _Fame_ in numbers of both guns and men. He was sure of victory. "If only the hated Englishman would appear!" he grumbled.

Meanwhile the excitement and expectation at Malta became intense. Finally it was noised abroad that the terrible privateer had been sighted about five miles off the harbor. All factions were aroused: the Austrians and English slapping the French and Spaniards upon the back, and saying, "Now there will be a chance to sink bold Captain Wright, Messieurs!"

To which the irritable Frenchmen would answer, "Ah! Yes! He will be gobbled up like Jonah by the whale. Pouff!"

The French privateer sailed out to meet the foe, and soon her white canvas had disappeared from view around a jutting headland. The stranger ran off. The Frenchman pursued, and soon both were lost to the eager gaze of the population of Malta, which crowded every headland, eager and expectant for the bloody battle. The shore was black with people.

Hours passed. Another day came and with it the news that two vessels had been sighted off the entrance to the harbor. Hundreds rushed to the headlands and cliffs in order to see the victor and the vanquished, for two cruisers were approaching, the one towing the other.

"Huzzah!" shouted an enthusiastic Frenchman. "We have won! See--up go the French colors upon the first vessel. The other--poof--eet ees a jelly. Eet ees pounded to ze shreds."

"Huzzah!" shouted all of his compatriots, and they danced about, shaking hands, embracing, and waving their hats and their handkerchiefs.

"Ce cher Wright!" cried they. "He ees een the soup, eh?"

And what of the Englishmen?

They--of course--said nothing, but bit their lips, looked at their Austrian friends, and hung their heads dejectedly.

Here is the most beautiful part of all this story, for Fortunatus Wright, my boys, was a joker--a real, true end man in a minstrel show--and he was having his fun with "the Frenchies." His vessel--indeed--had come off victorious, in spite of the fact that she had been much more shattered than the other contestant. Therefore, Wright had put her in tow of the captured Frenchman, which he, himself, was steering, with the crew of his opponent down in the hold, as prisoners of war.

Seeing the crowded headlands and swarming ramparts in the harbor, he could not resist the temptation of hoisting the flag of France. He chuckled as he saw the effect it produced upon the crowd, then--as the vessels rounded a fort at the entrance to the harbor--down came the colors of France and up went the English flag to the peak, with the French flag below.

And then--well, you can imagine how the Englishmen and Austrians yelled, and how the poor Frenchmen beat a hasty flight for their homes. Fortunatus Wright had had a sweet revenge. He laughed long and hard, while the Frenchmen said, "Curse heem! He ees a devil! A thousand curses upon the head of thees Wright! Sapristi!" And they did not open any more bottles of wine for their supposedly great captain from Marseilles.

As for Fortunatus Wright, he continued to harass the French and get into trouble, as the following anecdote well shows.

Not long after his famous battle, he was travelling in Italy with introductions to many of the nobility, and arrived--one day--before the city gates of Lucca. Here was stationed a guard, and a sentinel scrutinized him with great care and deliberation.

Fortunatus Wright grew impatient.

"Can I not go by?" said he. "My passports are correct!"

"No! No!" answered the soldier. "I no likea zose peestols in your belta. You must deeliver them to me before you can go to ze ceety."

The English sea-captain said nothing, but the color rose in his cheeks. In an instant he raised one of his pistols and pointed it at the head of the astonished sentry.

"The first man that endeavors to take my weapons from me," he yelled, "does so at the cost of his life!"

The guardsman was flabbergasted.

"Corporal of the Guard! Post Number Two!" he shouted, presenting his musket at the same instant, and pointing it at the head of the irascible Captain Wright.

Immediately a dozen soldiers came running to the spot. They surrounded the irate English traveller. He was ordered to "Throw up your hands!"

"You air one mad Englishmana!" said the Officer of the Guard. "Here. Comea weeth usa! We weel feexa youa!"

Seeing that the odds were too much against him, Captain Wright allowed himself to be taken to the guard house, while a soldier was dispatched to the British Ambassador in order to explain that "they had captured an Englishman as mad as a mad dog!"

Things looked bad for the great privateersman. But was his name not Fortunatus? And was not good fortune always with him?

A nobleman to whom the bold mariner had a letter now intervened in his favor, and secured the release of the high-tempered man-of-the-sea. On the morning of the fourth day of his captivity, and at the early hour of four, a soldier waked Captain Fortunatus Wright, who was peacefully sleeping at a military prison. A missive was handed him, and he read:

"SEIGNEUR WRIGHT:--Since you have been so daring as to attempt to enter the town of Lucca by force, it is therefore ordered that you shall now leave the State and never presume to enter it again, without leave from the Republic. Post-horses, with a guard to see you over the border, are now ready for you. We trust that you shall have a safe journey.

"By order of the

"GOVERNOR OF LUCCA."

"These Italians are the most unreasonable people alive," growled Captain Wright. But he pocketed both his pride and his pistols, entered the post-chaise at the door, and was soon rolling forth for other parts. In spite of this order--he continued to reside in Italy, with the true independence of a privateersman.

In December, 1746, the bold seafarer made an exceptionally good capture: a French vessel on a voyage from Marseilles to Naples, with a rich cargo and the servants and luggage of a real potentate,--the Prince of Campo Florida.

When valorous Wright stepped aboard of her, her captain was scraping and bowing near the rail.