Chapter 1

_In which there is a Storm, a Wreck, and a Mutiny._

When I came on deck the next morning, I found that the mate's prediction had proved true. A norther, as it is called in the Gulf, was blowing great guns, and the ship, heading westward, was rolling in the trough of the tremendous sea almost yard-arm under, with only close-reefed top-sails and storm foretopmast-staysail set. We wallowed along in this manner all day, for we were lying our course, and the skipper was in a hurry to bring our protracted voyage to an end. We made much more leeway than we reckoned, however, for just at sunset the high mountains of Cuba were to be seen faintly looming up on the southern horizon.

"Brace up, there," ordered Captain Smith, when this fact was announced. "Luff, my man, luff, and keep her as near it as you may."

The old ship came up on the wind, presenting her front most gallantly to the angry waves, which came on as high as the fore-yard, threatening to engulf her in the watery abyss. We took in all our top-sails but the main, and with that, a reefed fore-sail and foretopmast-staysail set, the old ship shook her feathers, and prepared herself for an all-night job of clawing off an iron-bound lee-shore.

The hatches were battened down, the fore-scuttle and companion closed, and all the crew collected aft on deck and lashed themselves to some substantial object, to save themselves from being washed over-board by the immense seas which constantly broke over our bows, and deluged our decks. The night closed down darker than pitch, and the wind increased in violence. I have scarcely ever seen so dismal a night. Except when at intervals a blinding flash of lightning illumined the whole heavens and the broad expanse of raging ocean, we could distinguish nothing at a yard's distance, save the glimmer of the phosphorescent binacle light, and the gleam which flashed from the culmination of the huge seas ahead of us, resembling an extended cloud of dull fire suspended in the air, and blown toward us, till, with a noise like thunder, as it dashed against the bows, it vanished, and another misty fire was to be seen as if rising out of some dark gulf. At midnight it blew a hurricane; the wind cut off the tops of the waves, and the air was full of spray and salt, driving like sleet or snow before the wintry storm. I had ensconced myself under the lee of the bulwarks, among a knot of select weather-beaten tars, and notwithstanding the danger we were in, I could not help being somewhat amused at their conversation.

"Jack," said Teddy, an Irish sailor, to the ship's oracle, old Jack Reeves, "do you think the sticks will howld?"

"If they don't," growled Jack, "you'll be in h--l before morning."

"Och, Jasus!" was the only reply to this consolatory remark--and there was an uneasy nestling throughout the whole circle.

"Well, Frank," said old Jack to me, after a most terrific gust, during which every man held his breath to listen whether there might not be a snapping of the spars, "well, Frank, what do you think of that?"

"Why, I think I never saw it blow so hard before," I replied. "'Tisn't a very comfortable berth, this of ours, with a lee-shore not thirty miles off, and a hurricane blowing."

"No danger at all, Frank, if them spars only stay by us--and I guess they will. They're good sticks, and Mr. Brewster is too good a boatswain not to have 'em well supported. The old Gentile is a dreadful critter for eatin' to windward in any weather that God ever sent; but I hope you don't call this blowin' hard, do you? Why, I've seen it blow so that two men, one on each side of the skipper, couldn't keep his hair on his head, and they had to get the cabin-boy to tail on to the cue behind, and take a turn round a belaying-pin."

"An' that nothin' to a time I had in a brig off Hatteras," observed Teddy, who had somewhat recovered his composure; "we had to cut away both masts, you persave, and to scud under a scupper nail driv into the deck, wid a man ready to drive it further as the wind freshened."

"Wasn't that the time, Teddy," asked another, "When that big sea washed off the buttons on your jacket?"

"Faix, you may well say that; and a nigger we had on board turned white by reason of the scare he was in."

"Wal, now," interposed Ichabod Green, "Teddy, that's a lie; it's agin all reason."

"Pooh! you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves, "that's nothing to a yarn I can spin. You see that when I was quite a boy, I was in a Dutch man-o'-war for a year and thirteen months; and one day in the Indian Ocean, it came on to blow like blazes. It blowed for three days and nights, and the skipper called a council of officers to know what to do. So, when they'd smoked up all their baccy, they concluded to shorten sail, and the bo'sn came down to rouse out the crew. He ondertook to whistle, but it made such an onnateral screech, that the chaplain thought old Davy had come aboard; and he told the skipper he guessed he'd take his trick at prayin'. 'Why,' says the skipper, 'we've got on well enough without, ever since we left the Hague, hadn't we better omit it now?' ''Taint possible,' says the parson. Now you all know you can't larn seamanship to a parson or passenger--and the bloody fool knelt down with his face to wind'ard. 'Hillo!' says the skipper, 'you'd better fill away, and come round afore the wind, hadn't you?' 'Mynheer captain,' says the parson, 'you're a dreadful good seaman, but you don't know no more about religious matters than a horse.' 'That's true,' answered the skipper; 'so suit yourself, and let fly as soon as you feel the spirit move, bekase that main-sail wants reefin' awfully.' Well, the parson shuts his eyes, takes the pipe out of his mouth, and gets under-weigh; but, onluckily, the first word of the prayer was a Dutch one, as long as the maintop-bowline, and as crooked as a monkey's tail, and the wind ketchen in the kinks of it, rams it straight back into his throat, and kills him as dead as a herrin'. 'Blixem!' says the skipper, 'there'll be brandy enough for the voyage now.'"

"Sail, ho-o-o!" shouted a dozen voices, as a vivid flash of lightning showed us the form of a small schooner riding upon the crest of a wave, not two cables length ahead.

"Hard-a-lee!" shouted the skipper. "My God! make her luff, or we shall be into them."

Slowly the ship obeyed her helm, and came up on the wind, trembling to her keel, as the canvas, relieved from the strain, fluttered and thrashed against the mast with immense violence, and a noise more deafening than thunder, while the great seas dashed against the bows, now in full front toward them, with the force and shock of huge rocks projected from a catapult, and the wind shrieked and howled through the rigging as if the spirits of the deep were rejoicing over our dreadful situation.

Again the fiery flash shot suddenly athwart the sky.

Good God! the schooner, her deck and lower rigging black with human beings, lay broadside to, scarcely ten rods from before our bows. A cry of horror mingled with the rattling thunder and the howl of the storm. I felt my blood curdle in my veins, and an oppression like the nightmare obstructed my voice.

The schooner sunk in the trough, and, as the lightning paled, disappeared from sight. The next moment our huge ship, with a headlong pitch, was precipitated upon her. One crash of riven timbers, and a yell of despairing agony, and all was over; the ship fell off from the wind, and we were again driving madly forward into the almost palpable darkness, tearing through the mountain seas.

"Rig the pumps and try them," cried Captain Smith, in a hoarse voice, "we may have started a plank by the shock."

To the great joy of all, the ship was found to make no more water than usual. All hands soon settled down quietly again, wondering what the run-down schooner could have been, and pitying her unfortunate crew, when a faint shout from the forecastle was heard in a lull of the storm.

"Lord save us! what can that be?" exclaimed a dozen of the crew in a breath.

"_In nomine Pathris_--" began Teddy, crossing himself in a fright.

"Silence there!" cried the skipper; "Mr. Stewart, can it be one of the schooner's crew, who has saved himself by the bowsprit rigging?"

"Plaze yer honor," said Teddy, "it's more likely it's one of their ghosts."

"Silence, I tell you! who gave you liberty to tell your opinion. Mr. Brewster, hail 'em, whoever they be."

"Folk'stle, ahoy!" sung out the second mate; "who's there?"

"Help! help! for God's sake!" faintly answered the mysterious voice.

"Go forward, there, two hands," ordered the captain; "'t is one of the schooner's crew."

After a moment's hesitation, the second mate and Jack Reeves started on this mission of mercy, and were soon followed by nearly all the crew. Upon reaching the forecastle we found the body of a man lying across the heel of the bowsprit, jammed against the windlass pawl. The insensible form was lifted from its resting place, and, by the captain's order, finally deposited in the cabin on the transom. The skipper, steward, and myself, remained below to try and resuscitate the apparently lifeless body. The means we used were effectual; and the wrecked seaman opened his eyes, and finally sat up.

"I must go on deck now," said the captain. "Stay below, Frank, and help the steward undress him, and put him into a berth."

Our benevolent darky had by this time concocted a glass of brandy grog, very stiff, but, alas! not hot, which I handed to the object of our care, who, after drinking it, seemed much better; and we then proceeded to help him strip. I noticed that his clothes were very coarse, and parti-colored; there were also marks of fetters on his ancles, and his back was scarred by the lash. I conjectured from these circumstances that our new shipmate was not of the most immaculate purity of character, and after I had got him into a berth, between two warm woollen blankets, I made free to ask him a few questions, not only about himself, but also about his vessel. I could get no reply but in Spanish, as I took his lingo to be, though, from his hailing for help in English, I knew that he must understand that language. When I went upon deck I reported myself to the officers, who concluded to defer any examination until morning. The gale began to abate about midnight, and at nine o'clock in the morning it had so far subsided that the cabin mess, leaving Mr. Brewster in charge of the deck, went below to get breakfast.

"The swell is tremendous," said the skipper, as we were endeavoring to get seated around the table. "I think I never saw a much heavier sea in any part of the world. Look out, there!"

But the caution was given too late; the ship had risen on an enormous wave as the skipper had spoken, and when she plunged, the steward pitched headlong over the cabin table, closely followed by the third mate, who had grasped his camp-stool for support, and still clung pertinaciously to it. The ship righted, leaving Langley's corpus extended at full length among a wreck of broken crockery.

"Well, Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "I hope you enjoy your breakfast."

"Bill," added the mate, as Langley gathered himself up, "as you've got through your breakfast so expeditiously, hadn't you better go on deck and let Mr. Brewster come down?"

"Beg your pardon, sir; but don't you see I'm laid on the table--there can be no action about me at present."

"Well, sit down and try to preserve your gravity. I hope to see no more such flights of nonsense at this table."

"Steward," asked the skipper, after we had nearly finished our meal, "how is your patient this morning?"

"It's enough to make any body out of patience, sar, to fall ober de cabin table. So tan't werry first rate."

"No, so I perceive; but I mean, how's the man who came on board us last night?"

"Oh, dat's him--excuse me, sar. Well, sar, he's quite smart dis mornin'."

"Fetch him out here, I wish to ask him some questions; give him a shirt and trowsers of mine, and fetch him out."

The steward soon made his appearance again, in company with the stranger, who, now dressed clean, looked to be a stout, powerful man, apparently about thirty-five; but his long, tangled, black hair and whiskers so concealed his features, that their expression could not be discerned. He bowed as he entered the cabin, and in good English thanked the captain for his care.

"Sit down upon the stool yonder," said the skipper, "and tell us the name and nation of your vessel, and by what miracle you escaped; and afterward you shall have some breakfast."

"The name of the vessel, señor, was the San Diego, the _guarda-costa_ upon this station. I was on deck when your ship was first seen, and I climbed half way up the main shrouds to look out for you, by the captain's order. When you struck us, I found myself entangled in your jib-boom rigging, and held on, though much bruised, and half-drowned by the seas which ducked me every minute, until I succeeded in laying in upon your forecastle. I had had time to notice your rig, and knew you to be an American."

"How many were your crew?" asked the mate.

The sailor started, and for a moment eyed the querist closely. "Oh! señor, only about fifty souls in all."

"Good God!" cried the captain, "fifty lives lost--fifty souls sent into eternity with scarcely a moment's warning!"

"Don't regret it, captain," said the sailor, bitterly, "many of them were only convicts; the government will be much obliged to you."

"Were you a convict?" asked the mate.

"I was, señor, as my dress and appearance would have told you, even if I had been disposed to lie. I was drafted from the Matanzas chain-gang to the guarda-costa some six month ago."

"The Matanzas chain-gang!" cried the mate, eagerly, "pray, my good fellow, do you know a convict by the name of Pedro Garcia?"

The man rose to his feet--"Why, señor, do you?" he inquired.

"I do, indeed," answered Mr. Stewart, impatiently; "but tell me--answer my question, sir."

The convict brushed back his long hair. "I was once called Don Pedro Garcia," said he; "tell me," he added, as all four of us rose involuntarily at this startling announcement, "with whom do I speak?"

"Good God!" cried the mate, making one jump for the convict felon, and throwing his arms around him, "I'm Ben Stewart, alive and well."

Very unluckily, at this moment the ship gave a violent lurch, and the two fell, and, locked in each others embrace, rolled over to leeward; the skipper, who was unguarded in his astonishment, followed Langley's former wake over the table, which, yielding to the impulse, fetched away, capsized, and with the captain, also rolled away to leeward; the steward, as in duty bound, ran to his superior's help.

At this juncture, Brewster, hearing the unusual row, poked his head through the skylight slide, and demanded--"What's the matter? Mutiny! by G----d!" he shouted, catching sight of the prostrate forms of his fellow officers, struggling, as he thought, in the respective grasps of the rescued convict and the steward. Off went the scuttle, and down came the valiant Brewster square in the midst of the crockery, followed by three or four of his watch, stumbling over the bodies of the overthrown quartette. Langley and myself climbed into a berth and looked on.

"It's the steward," shouted the mischievous third mate, whose love of fun could not be controled by fear of consequences; "he tried to stab the captain with the carving-knife."

The scene now became exciting; the cry of mutiny was heard all over the vessel; and the skipper and mate hearing it, very naturally concluding that the mutineers were those who had so unceremoniously invaded the cabin, turned furiously upon them, and called loudly for assistance to us in the berth; but we were enjoying the fun too much to even speak and explain.

"Are ye kilt, cap'n?" asked Teddy, who had pushed his way to his beloved commander.

"No, you d----d mutinous scoundrel!" replied the enraged skipper, planting a tremendous blow between the eyes of the anxious interrogator; "take that!" and the Irishman rolled upon deck. In the meantime, Mr. Brewster, who had taken an especial spite against the convict, grabbed him by the throat. Pedro returned the compliment by a blow in the stomach, and Stewart aided the defeat of his colleague by taking him by the shoulders and dragging him off. Transported beyond reason by the pain of the blow he had received, and what he supposed to be the black ingratitude of Mr. Stewart, Brewster gave a scream of rage and clinched in with the mate with all his force.

It was fast getting to be past a joke.

"Come, Langley," said I, "let's put a stop to this--somebody will be killed."

"Sure enough! but how are we going to do it? Oh! here are the mate's pistols; draw the charges, Frank, and you take one and I the other, and we'll soon proclaim peace."

"They're not loaded," said I, after trying them with the ramrod.

"All right, then--follow me."

"We jumped down from our roost, leveled our pistols at the crowd, and threatened to fire if hostilities should not instantly cease on both sides.

"Langley, hand me those pistols," cried the frenzied skipper, who was the more angry because nobody would fight with him.

"Please, sir, I can't; I daren't trust myself without 'em. Disperse, ye rebels! lay down your arms and disperse--die, base and perjured villain," shouted Langley, holding the muzzle of his pistol to Brewster's ear, while I, by poking my shooting-iron in everybody's face, obtained partial order. After a deal of difficulty the mutiny was explained; and the crestfallen Brewster withdrew his forces, followed by the mate, who conciliated his irate colleague, and gave him an inkling as to the real name and character of the rescued convict.

After the steward had cleared away the wreck of the breakfast things, a conclave of the cabin-mess was called, to which the black steward was _ex officio_ and _ex necessitate_ admitted; and it was determined, after much debate, that the voyage should be continued, and that during our stay in Matanzas my cousin Pedro should remain hidden on board. The next mooted point was whether to conceal the matter from the crew, and decided in the negative; so the men were called aft, and the truth briefly stated to them. One and all swore to be faithful and discreet--and so they proved. With one or two exceptions our crew were Yankees, and of a far higher grade than the crews of merchantmen generally.

During these proceedings the gale had rapidly abated, and at noon we found ourselves rolling and pitching in a heavy sea, the sun shining brightly over our heads, and not a breath of air stirring. The skipper, mate, and Cousin Pedro were closeted together in the cabin during the afternoon, while the second and third mates, and ship's cousin, compared notes sitting under the awning on the booby-hatch. I enlightened Brewster more fully as to Mr. Stewart's former adventures in Cuba; and we finally concluded that our running down the Spanish guarda-costa was the most lucky thing in the world.

"Half my plan is now accomplished to hand," said I; "we must now get my Cousin Clara out of the nunnery."

"You hadn't better try that, Frank," interposed Mr. Brewster, "because, for two reasons; in the first place, them Catholics are poor benighted heathen, and she wouldn't get out if she could--for she is a veiled nun; and the next place you'd get your neck into a certain machine called a _garrote_, or else make your cousin's place good in the chain-gang."

"Nevertheless, I shall try; and if she only is willing to run away, there can some plan be contrived, I know."

"And my part shall be to run old Alvarez through the body, if the devil hasn't taken him already," added Mr. William Langley.

"Boys will be boys, that's a fact, call 'em what you're a mind to," observed Mr. Brewster, very sapiently stroking his big red whiskers.

The calm continued, and by evening the swell had in a great degree gone down. In the first dog-watch, my Cousin Pedro, sitting upon the companion, gave us an account of his long imprisonment. He had, as the reader already knows, been sentenced for the murder of the Count ----, and had toiled and slaved in the streets of Matanzas, till drafted, with many others, on board of the guarda-costa. He knew of Clara's fate, and had been undeceived by my father in the belief of Mr. Stewart's death.

Langley and I stood the middle watch again that night. An easterly breeze, gentle, but steady, blew most of the night; and when we went below, and eight bells struck, the moon was silvering the lofty peak of the Pan of Matanzas, which lay far away on our larboard bow.