Part 12

In an hour's time he thought differently, for, "Sail ho!" sounded from the forward deck, and there, far off to leeward, was the outline of a long, blackish vessel, bearing no flag at her mizzen or stern.

Crowding on all canvas--for the breeze was light--the _Duke William_ bore away towards her. "It must be the pirate!" said all, for, also crowding on all sail, the vessel headed up the coast, and did her utmost to get away.

On, on, went pursuer and pursued; on, on, and the _Duke William_ began to draw dangerously close to the fleeing vessel, which now could be easily seen. She was a brigantine, carrying about eighteen guns, with a high stern and graceful lines. No flags waved from her mast-heads.

Suddenly the scudding sea-warrior pointed her nose in-shore, ran around the corner of a sandy island, and bore away into a seemingly large lagoon upon the other side. The _Duke William_ followed, and, as she rounded a jutting sand-spit, there before her lay a little schooner, on the deck of which were seen several sailors, waving and gesticulating frantically. Behind, and on the shore, was an earth-work, from which several cannon pointed their black muzzles. On a flag-pole in the centre, waved a Spanish flag, and, beneath it, a black ensign upon which was the skull-and-cross-bones.

"It's the pirate stronghold!" cried several, at once. "We're in for a tight skirmish!"

But Captain Walker only smiled.

The brigantine, which he had been following, now rounded-to, opened her port-holes, and fired a couple of shots toward the pursuing craft. At the same time an English flag was hoisted on the schooner, and a fellow on her deck sang out through a speaking trumpet.

"Thank Heaven you have come! We were only captured two days ago! Hurrah for the English flag!"

The _Duke William_ kept on after the brigantine, her mixed crew yelling with joy, now that they were to have an action.

_Bang! Bang!_

Her two forward guns spoke, and a shot went ripping through one of the foresails of the pirate.

This was enough for the fighting spirit of those who sailed the Spanish Main. For, putting about, the brigantine scudded through a narrow channel, known only to her skipper (for no one else could have followed without grounding upon a sand-spit), and was soon running away upon the opposite side of a low-lying island, now flaunting the pirate-flag from her halyards.

"She's gone!" sadly remarked the gallant Captain Walker, "but we can capture the gun-battery. Make ready to go ashore, if needed!"

Steering for the coast, the guns of the _Duke William_ opened upon the sandy barricade, and shot after shot was soon making the dirt and gravel fly in every direction:

_Poom! Poom! Cu-poom!_

The cannon in the earth-work next began to speak, and, it was apparent, from the strange noises which some of them made, that they were full of rust.

_Cu-Poom! Cu-Pow! Chuck-chuck-cu-swash!_ they roared, and a few balls began to whistle about the spars of the _Duke William_.

There were some accurate marksmen upon the deck of the British vessel, and, as she lay broadside to the fortification, one well-aimed shot struck a cannon and dismounted it; while another shattered the flag-pole and brought down the flag with a crash.

"Hurrah!" shouted the men from Charleston. "Now we'll even up with these cursed pirates for all the damage that they've done us. Now, we'll teach them not to ravage our coasts and catch our merchant ships!"

_Cu-whow!_ barked the rust-caked guns of the barricade. "_Go-slow! Go-back! Go-home!_"

To this a full broadside roared, and the balls tore the top of the earth-work to shreds.

"Now let thirty men take to the boats!" commanded Captain Walker. "Steer for the beach and rush the barricade with pistols and cutlasses. I don't believe that there are more than a dozen men inside the earth-work."

"Huzzah!" was the cheerful answer to this order, and, in a few moments, several boats were racing for the beach, each eager to be the first ashore.

As they approached, the antiquated guns on the sand-spit became strangely silent, and, as the eager raiders rushed valiantly upon the pirate fortress, no shots were fired at them to impede their progress. With a wild yell they leaped over the side of the barricade, only to find it deserted; for whatever had been the force that had fired these cannon, it had taken to the brush as the English seamen drew near. Only a few charges of ammunition were there, so it was plainly evident that the pirates (whatever their strength might have been) could only have held out for a few more rounds.

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted the raiders. "The fort is ours!"

"And it's a sorry victory," said one of the crew, "for there's nothing here worth the having, except the cannon, and they couldn't stand more than two more shots without blowing up. I call it a pretty hollow success."

In spite of this the men of Charleston were well pleased. They had dispersed the pirates; taken their fort; and had re-captured a schooner which had recently been taken only a few miles from the harbor-mouth of that fair, southern city.

When they sailed into their home port they received a tremendous ovation. The bells were rung in all the churches; shots were fired; trumpets were blown.

"We could fall in with nothing that would stay for us upon the seas," said Captain Walker, modestly; but, in spite of this, he was treated like a great hero. All the influential persons in the Colony offered to sign a request that he might be given the command of a king's ship; but this he declined. So they tendered him an immense tract of land if he would remain in that country and drive off the pirates when next they became too bold and daring; but this he also declined, and stuck to his ship. In a few weeks he sailed for the Barbadoes, and then to England, in company with three unarmed trading-vessels which placed themselves under his convoy. The good people of Charleston bade him a sad and affectionate farewell.

George Walker sailed forth smiling, but he was now to have far more trouble than his little affair with the pirates.

When half way to England, a terrific gale struck the _Duke William_ and her convoys, which separated them by many miles, and made this good vessel (which had dispersed the pirates) leak like a sieve. The gale continued in its violence, while Captain Walker was so ill that the ship's surgeon despaired of his life. But note how grit and nerve pulled him through!

On the second day of the tempest, a sailor rushed into his cabin, crying:

"Captain! Captain! We'll founder, for the water is pouring into our bottom by the hogshead. We're gone for unless we take to the boats!"

Captain Walker was not the man to leave his ship in such a crisis.

"Throw all of the guns overboard, but two!" he ordered. "We need those in order to signal for help if a vessel comes near us. That will lighten us so that we can still float awhile."

This was done, but, as the last cannon shot into the waves, a sailor burst into his cabin with the intelligence that the men had prepared to desert in the tenders.

"Carry me on deck!" roared the resolute captain. "I'll give these cowards a piece of my mind."

Three sailors seized him and bore him aloft, where he remonstrated with his men in the strongest language possible. In spite of this, many clustered about one of the boats.

"The ship's a-sinking," cried one. "She won't stand up for an hour."

As he spoke, the welcome sound of, "Sail ho!" arose, above the wash and roar of the angry water.

Sure enough, a ship was bearing down upon them, but, to the dismay of all, she hastily hauled off again.

Captain Walker was astonished. "She thinks us an armed enemy," said he. "Fire a gun, men, and cut the mizzen-mast in two, so that it falls overboard. That will show the stranger that we're a friend in distress."

His orders were immediately obeyed and the mast came ripping and tearing over the side. A gun also roared, and the stranger, now convinced that the ship was a friend, and not a foe, came bearing down upon the crippled _Duke William_, to the rescue.

"She's one of our own convoy!" shouted a seaman, waving his hand joyfully. And such she proved to be. Captain Walker had saved his crew by his foresight and quickness of decision. Had he thrown all of his cannon overboard he would have had no gun with which to hail the stranger, and, had he not cut away his own mast, she would have gone away, fearful that he was an enemy. Three cheers for the brave and thoughtful Captain Walker! He reached England, at last, but he and his men were in a sorry plight, for the vessel which had rescued them was almost as unseaworthy as their own, which sank in a great whirl of eddying foam, not half an hour after they had left her. Thus ended the career of the good ship which had chased all of the pirates away from the harbor of Charleston. A sad fate, indeed, for such a gallant craft.

Captain Walker was not long idle, for he soon took charge of a brigantine trading to the Baltic Sea, in spite of the fact that war had been declared with France, and the privateers and gun-boats of that nation hovered in his path, eager and anxious to secure some English merchant vessel, as a prize.

"I see that these fellows mean to catch me, if they can," said the keen-witted mariner. "So I intend to be ready for them if I do not happen to be near an English man-of-warsman when they come sailing by."

He therefore shipped a number of wooden guns, which were painted black, so that, at a distance, they looked exactly like the real thing. Upon his vessel were only six cannon, so when--a short time afterwards--he was chased by a French privateer off the coast of Scotland--he had an excellent opportunity to "bluff" the bold marauder.

As the Frenchman drew near, the vessel which Captain Walker was on kept steadily upon her way, and, through his glass, the cautious mariner saw that his pursuer carried fully twenty guns.

"Run out our dummy cannon!" he ordered.

Out were thrust the black, wooden muzzles, twenty-five in number, and--as the Frenchman was now within shooting distance--the English boat was luffed into the wind. In a second the British jack, ensign, and man-of-war's pendant were hoisted, and a gun was fired across the bow of the arrogant privateer.

"Come on!" shouted bold Walker. "I am waiting for you!"

But the enemy did not come on. Instead of this, she turned tail in a hurry, filled away, and made off as fast as a freshening breeze would drive her.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed the genial, English skipper. "Bluffed by a lot of wooden guns. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

And all of his sailors gave a rousing cheer.

This was indeed good fortune, but Captain Walker was soon to meet with some fortune which was quite the reverse.

It was the year 1744 and the doughty sailor had accepted the command of the privateer _Mars_, of twenty-six guns and one hundred and thirty men, which sailed from London for a cruise in the English channel. With her was the _Boscawen_, another privateer with about the same number of guns, but with a crew of fully one hundred and eighty. They soon had an adventure which was not all to the liking of bold George Walker.

At midnight, late in December, the two privateers were running near the coast of France. There was a heavy mist and rain, also a fresh breeze, so the steersmen could not well see what way they were going. Suddenly the hulls of two large vessels loomed up in the blackness, and the twinkling lights from their port-holes shone upon the dripping sides of the British privateers. Voices came through the mist--French voices--so it was apparent that the ships were not friends.

"Those fellows are showing much alarm," said Captain Walker, a few moments later. "I therefore believe that the vessels are full of treasure. We'll hang on until daylight, at any rate, and see whether or no we cannot capture a rich cargo."

Next morning, at eight o'clock, the fog suddenly lifted, disclosing--not two treasure ships--but two French men-of-war; one bearing seventy-four guns, the other sixty-four.

"Egad!" ejaculated the startled Walker. "We're in a hornet's nest! I guess we'd better run for it!"

The Frenchmen, however, were both treasure-ships, as well as men-of-war; both bound from the West Indies, with cargoes worth about four millions sterling ($20,000,000), which they were carrying into the harbor of Brest. They were not in good fighting trim, as their heavy cargoes made them low in the water, and very unwieldy. It is probable that they would not have attacked the two Englishmen, had not the captain of the _Boscawen_ turned tail and fled, leaving the _Mars_ all alone.

"Did you ever see such a coward?" cried Captain Walker, with heat. "Boys! We're in for it now!"

Sure enough, they were: for the Frenchmen saw that only one enemy was left, and immediately sent the sixty-four gun ship--the _Fleuron_--in pursuit.

Walker turned his vessel about and clapped on all sail, but the large gun-boat quickly overhauled him.

"Gentlemen!" said Captain Walker, as she rapidly approached. "I do not mean to be so rash as to attempt a regular engagement with so superior a force; all I ask of you is to confide in me and my orders, to get away--if possible--without striking our flag; and, be assured, I shall not call upon you to fight unless there is excellent opportunity for success. The ship which pursues us is certainly the better sailer of the two French men-of-war; yet, if we have good fortune with our shots, we may bring down a topmast or yard; or hurt her rigging so as to retard her pursuit. We may yet get entirely clear. So, my hearties, do not lose your nerve!"

These wise remarks were greeted with a "Hip! Hip! Hooray!"

Now was a lively chase. The _Mars_ hoisted the English flag, opened with her stern guns, and put on all available canvas. But she was not a fast sailer, and gradually but surely, the _Fleuron_ crept up on one side, and the other French man-of-war upon the other. She, too, had entered the chase.

Finally the French vessels had the British privateer directly between them.

"The jig is up!" cried Captain Walker, sadly. "Gentlemen, we do not strike to one ship only. Haul down the colors!"

Down came the proud ensign, the sails were lowered, and the gallant Walker entered a boat, in order that he might be put aboard the _Fleuron_ and give up his sword. When he arrived on the deck he found the French captain by no means in the politest of humors.

After receiving the weapon of the vanquished privateersman, the Frenchman thundered in very good English:

"How dare you fire against a force like mine in so small a ship? Sirrah, you must be stark mad. I compliment you upon your lack of judgment."

Captain Walker was nettled.

"Sir," he replied, with warmth, "if you will look at my commission you will find that I had as good a right to fight as you, yourself, had. Furthermore, if my force had not been so inferior to yours, I would have shown you more civil treatment on board my own ship, after I had captured you."

The Frenchman winced.

"How many of your bushwhackers have I killed?" said he.

"None at all, sir!" replied the Englishman.

"Then, sir, you should be well ashamed of your scurvy fighting. For you have killed six of my brave men and have wounded several with pieces of glass. Pray, when, sir, did the rules of war allow glass to be used as ammunition?"

"You lie," cried Captain Walker. "No glass was used by my men."

The Frenchman curbed his anger.

"Then what was it?" said he.

Here a British seaman interrupted.

"If it would please your French Majesty," he said, with a bow, "I reckon I know what it was that you took for glass. The captain of one of our stern guns, when he found out that we must surrender, sir, took about sixteen shillings from his pocket, saying: 'Sooner than let these French rascals plunder me of all I've got in the world, I'll see what a bribe can do!' So he wrapped the money up in a bag, sir, crammed it into a gun, and let fly at your deck. Faith, your men were lucky to be struck by good, British coin!"

At this all had a good laugh, and the unpleasantness between the French captain and George Walker was at an end. The privateersman was treated with the greatest courtesy and was made as comfortable as could be.

The action took place on Friday and the ships were headed for Brest, about three days' sail away. At daybreak on Sunday morning, four large boats were sighted astern, and it did not take long to realize that they were coming up pretty fast _and were flying the English colors_.

"Hurray!" shouted Captain Walker. "No French prison for me. Hurray!"

The English squadron gained steadily. The boats grew nearer and nearer, while Walker's hopes soared higher and higher. Finally, the French officer, who was in charge of his own boat--the _Mars_--put his helm up and ran to leeward, hoping to draw one of the British vessels after him. He was successful, for a seventy-gun ship made after him, chased him for several miles, and finally re-captured the English privateer. The other ships kept on and drew closer and closer.

Seeing that an action would soon take place, the French captain politely requested Walker and his officers to go below.

"Messieurs!" said he. "There will soon be a leetle affair in which the balls will fly. You will be better off in the hold, where they cannot reach you so easily as up here."

"Sir!" replied the English privateer-captain. "I go below with the greatest of pleasure, for I am now certain of my liberty. Au revoir!"

"Do not count your chickens before they hatch!" cried the Frenchman, after his retreating form.

The British vessels were the _Hampton Court_ of seventy guns, and the _Sunderland_ and _Dreadnought_ of sixty each; so, being three to two, they should have had a fairly easy victory over the Frenchmen. But the _Sunderland_ lost a spar overboard, and dropped astern; so it left but two to two: an even affair.

Alas for gallant Captain Walker! Although the Englishmen came near the two French men-of-war, they hung about without firing a shot; allowed the Frenchmen to sail on unmolested, and thus carry their astonishingly rich treasure into Brest, amid wild and enthusiastic cheering of their crews, and groans of disappointment from the English prisoners.

Yet these same prisoners had little cause to complain of their treatment when they arrived at Brest; for they were landed at once, and the captain and officers were liberated on parole. The French also treated them very well and invited the valorous George Walker to many a repast, where they laughed at the narrow shave that he had had from death,--for they had left the _Fleuron_ none too soon.

On the day following the landing, Captain Walker was seated in the office of a counting-house, near the dock-end, and was writing a letter to the captain of the _Fleuron_, requesting him to send him his letter-of-credit, which was in a tin box in a cabin of the French man-of-war, when a terrible _Boom!_ sounded upon his ears.

A sailor came running past the open window.

"The _Fleuron_ has blown up!" he cried. "The _Fleuron_ is a total loss!"

Captain Walker dashed into the street; to the end of the quay; and there a sad spectacle greeted his eager gaze. Strewn about upon the surface of the water were broken spars; pieces of sail; and the debris of a once gallant man-of-war. The remnants of the _Fleuron_ were burning brightly.

The captain of the French ship came running by. "Helas!" he wailed. "A careless gunner has destroyed my gallant vessel. Helas! Helas!"

It was too true. Four or five powder barrels had been left in the magazine for saluting purposes, and quite a little loose powder had been allowed to lie upon the floor. Some careless seamen had gone down into the hold with a decrepit, old lantern. The handle broke, the flame set fire to the loose powder,--and that was the end of the gallant ship _Fleuron_. She burned to the water's edge and then went down to the bottom with a dull, sizzling hiss; while the treasure also disappeared. Later on, divers secured a part of it, but much that was of value was never recovered.

Captain Walker did not long grieve over the loss of his letter-of-credit, left on board the ill-starred _Fleuron_, for he was exchanged, after a few weeks, and was sent back to England with his crew. This was in 1745. He lost no time in reporting to the owners of the _Mars_, and so well did they think of him, that in a short while they sent him upon another privateering venture aboard the _Boscawen_, which, as you remember, had run away from the _Mars_, after she had fallen in with the two French men-of-war. Now occurred his greatest sea-fight.

The _Boscawen_ had been built in France and had been a prize, taken at sea. She mounted twenty-eight guns (nine-pounders), but Walker added two more, and shipped a crew of three hundred and fourteen men. Without waiting for the _Mars_, the stout sea-dog put out to sea on April 19th, 1745, steering for the shores of France where cruised the prize-laden clipper ships, and the unwelcome men-of-warsmen. The British privateersman cruised about for a whole month without any luck, and, falling in with the privateer _Sheerness_, joined with her in a little run in search of inoffensive merchantmen. At daybreak a cry came from the forward watch,--

"Sails ho! Sails ho! Off the starboard quarter! There're eight o' them an' heading no' east."

Both the privateers started in pursuit, but the _Sheerness_ was left far astern, as the _Boscawen_ was a speedy sailer. The latter drew near the eight scudding sail, which suddenly veered about and formed a line, awaiting an attack. The _Sheerness_ was way astern. Would Captain Walker advance?

It was eight against one, and there was no certainty what was the armament of the vessels now standing in a row, all ready for action. The faces of the officers on the _Boscawen_ showed anxiety and suspense, but there was no shadow of fear upon the countenance of Captain Walker, who now addressed them in the following words:

"Gentlemen, I hope that you do not think the number of prizes before us too many. Be assured, my good friends, that by their being armed, they have something on board of them that is worth defending. I take them to be merchantmen with letters of marque (privateers), and homeward bound. Without doubt we shall meet with some opposition, in which I know that you will exhibit your usual courage. We must conquer these superior numbers by superior skill. Be cool. Be careful that you aim correctly, for, as we shall be pressed on all sides, let every man do his best to engage the enemy that he sees before him.

"In a word, Gentlemen, if you will put full confidence in me for leading you on, I will pawn my life upon the fact that I will bring you off victorious."

"Hurray! Hurray for Walker!" came the reassuring response.

"Then go to your quarters, my hearties! Fight like Britishers of old, and all will be well!" cried the brave mariner.

Like a hornet among a group of snap-dragons, the _Boscawen_ now sailed into the centre of the enemy's line.

"Do not fire until I give the word!" cried Captain Walker, as the salt spray kicked and splashed about the bow of the on-coming _Boscawen_. "Then hammer away like anvils on a sledge!"

Sixty men were ill on board the stout little English privateer, but all save three crawled on deck in order to render what assistance they could in pointing and handling the guns.

Now was a glorious fight.

_Bang! Crash! Z-i-i-p!_

The French privateers were hammering away as the Englishman approached and their balls cut and tore through the rigging, damaging the mizzen topsail, and splitting a topmast. Steering straight for the largest vessel, Walker waited until he was within close range and then gave the order:

"Fire, and hull her if you can."

_Poof! Cr-a-a-sh!_