CHAPTER I.

SAIL HO!

They deplored the death of poor Mr. Quail; but their blood was too much "up," to use a common phrase, and their own peril was too imminent, to permit them indulging in the same soft regrets and mournful sentiments, that were aroused by the sudden disappearance of Adrian Manfredi.

Notwithstanding the wild disorder that reigned on board the unfortunate _Hermione_, the mutineers, true to their original idea of keeping her, with the vague intention of running her on their own account, with Pedro Barradas as captain, and themselves as crew and owners--a vague intention, indeed--steered her towards Madagascar, under her fore and main courses, jib, and spanker. They rigged jury-top-masts, and crossed jury-yards thereon; and, as the breeze was fair for the Mozambique, they steered in what they, rightly enough, conceived to be that direction.

Sorely crippled though she was, and no longer under a stately spread of snow-white canvas, as of old, the fine ship flew on, and each night saw some southern constellation sink into the horizon, to appear no more.

Thus, in four days, and as many nights, she ran nearly eight hundred miles, which brought her so close to the mouth of the Mozambique Channel, that she soon began to feel the steady breath of the south-west monsoon, which begins there to blow in April, and continues till November, so the ship ran as fairly as even Pedro could have wished her.

During this time matters did not go quietly between the adverse parties on board.

A secret sally, made by Morley Ashton, Dr. Heriot, and Noah Gawthrop, up the companion-stair, with the intention of capturing the scuttle-butt in a very dark night, nearly ended in their being discovered and cut off by Pedro's drowsy and half-drunken watch; the butt--a cask with a square hole cut in its bilge, and always kept on deck for the use of the crew--containing about seven gallons of water, was fortunately taken, the cabin regained in safety, and the barricades replaced.

It was evident to our friends that a dread of their well-supplied fire-arms, their truer aim and steady determination, alone cooled the ardour of the crew, and prevented them from making a vigorous attempt, by a combined attack through the skylight and companion-way, to storm the cabin and slay its defenders.

Once or twice, however, a shot was fired, or a missile flung, down the skylight, or a threat, or a malediction, was levelled at the occupants of the cabin. Frequently shouts, cries, and quarrelling were heard on deck, where evidently Pedro found as much difficulty in enforcing obedience as his more legal predecessor had done.

At the stern-windows Captain Phillips and his friends kept, by turns, a constant look-out for a passing sail, which they meant to signal by waving a flag or table-cloth, or by firing their pistols; but none was ever visible, nor was aught to be seen but Mother Carey's chickens tripping along, for even the albatrosses appeared seldom, so far was the ship from the region of the Cape.

Under Captain Phillips and Tom Bartelot, those in the cabin divided themselves into two watches, which, to prevent surprise, were alternately vigilant or sleeping by night. This saved the personal strength of the whole; but they soon grew pale with anxiety and watching, and had a worn, unshaven, and uncouth appearance.

The horror of their whole circumstances, and the natural solicitude for the future, were somewhat alleviated to Morley, who, in the dark watches of the night, lay like a faithful mastiff at Ethel's cabin-door, through which he, at times, conversed with her in whispers, and had her dear hand passed to him, that he might kiss and caress it; but all the tales he had heard or read in his schoolboy-days, of pirates, buccaneers, and other lawless folks upon the high seas, crowded into memory now, and his soul sickened within him, as he thought of how Ethel and her sister would be situated, if the protection of those who loved and guarded them failed.

On the second morning after the mutiny broke out, and while those in the cabin were making almost merry over the capture of the scuttle-butt, with its welcome seven gallons of fresh water, their attention was arrested by a commotion on deck, and Zuares Barradas, who was at the wheel, shouted:

"Sail, ho!"

"Where?" asked his brother and several others.

"Estribord (starboard)," replied Zuares, as the ship was running before the wind at the time.

"A sail! a sail! hope at last!" exclaimed the prisoners in the cabin, while Tom Bartelot sprang up the stern-lockers, and looked forth, but saw sea and sky alone. How to communicate with her, without being immolated on the spot, was the first and fullest idea of all.

They writhed in agony of spirit at the prospect of succour--it might be vengeance--being, perhaps, within hail, all to be attained, or all lost for ever.

At that moment, Badger, the long Yankee, appeared at the open skylight, armed with a sharp axe, which he shook significantly, and then shrank back, lest a pistol-shot might respond to the menace.

This man had long served on board an American otter-hunter, and was hence, perhaps, the most lawless character on board, as these craft are all armed with cannon, have their hammocks in netting, man-o'-war fashion, and, being illegal traders, fight their way through the Pacific, and among the Sandwich Islands, and, somewhat like the buccaneers of old, are not wont to stand on trifles, so, in such a service, Badger had long been inured to crime and outrage.

Suddenly a spare mizzen-topsail was drawn over the skylight, nearly involving the cabin in darkness.

"What does this mean?" asked Mr. Basset; "are they about to smother us?:

"It means that they are about to muffle us, for the strange sail is close at hand," said Tom Bartelot.

And almost immediately another sail was lowered, as if to dry, over the taffrail, covering the four stern windows like a thick curtain, and thus rendering the cabin quite dark, and all communication with the stranger impossible.

"This is a most extraordinary proceeding," said Mr. Basset.

"Not at all, sir," said Captain Phillips. "These are knowing rascals, who have us at their mercy; and have resolved that, if possible, we shall neither make signals to the stranger or overhear what passes."

"Hark--what sound is that?" asked Morley.

"Steam blowing off," replied Tom Bartelot, listening intently.

"Steam!" exclaimed Morley.

"Then, by heaven, it is a man-o'-war," said Phillips.

"A man-o'-war--a man-o'-war," chorussed all in great excitement.

"Oh, Heaven! to be on the verge of safety, and yet to be immured here with my two girls!" exclaimed Mr. Basset, with great bitterness. "I shall force my way on deck. I am commissioned by the Crown--a judge--a--a----"

"To be cut down, destroyed--Badger is armed with an axe, and the first head that appears will be cloven to the teeth. Oh, my dear sir," said Morley, grasping his sleeve, "be wary--be persuaded."

"D--n my eyes! think o' bein' bottled down here, and a royal pennant within hail! It's enough to make one's biler bust!" growled Noah, hitching up his trousers.

"Hark; they are hailing--now the pirates are lying to," said Captain Phillips, as they heard the now ungreased sling of the mainyard grating under the top, when it was swung round, and the ship lay to.

"Ship ahoy!" cried a clear and somewhat authoritative voice, that came distinctly over the water about a hundred yards distant.

"Hollo!" responded Pedro, through Captain Phillips's speaking trumpet, as he sprang on one of the starboard carronade slides, while the ship plunged, as she rose and fell impatiently on the long rollers and heavy swell made by what was evidently the screw propeller of a large steamer.

"What ship is that?" demanded the same voice.

"The _General Jackson_, of Boston, United States," replied Pedro without hesitation.

"They did well to muffle up her stern--_Hermione_, of London, is painted there plain enough," said Captain Phillips.

"Where from, and whither bound?"

"From Boston to Bombay direct," replied Pedro.

"Why didn't you show your colours?" was the next rather suspicious question of the British officer.

"Our signal-chest was washed overboard. How does the Mozambique bear?"

"Cape St. Mary bears about two hundred miles, nor'-nor'-east."

"Thank you. What ship are you?"

All listened breathlessly.

"Her Britannic Majesty's steam-corvette the _Clyde_, Captain Sir Horace Seymour. How did you lose your masts?"

"A typhoon carried them away."

"A typhoon in these seas!" exclaimed the other, through his trumpet.

"Yes, sir."

"We felt nothing of it. Do you want any assistance? We can send a boat's crew, or a gang of carpenters, on board."

"No, no," replied Pedro, hastily, as hope rose in the panting hearts of those below, and curses to the lips of those above; "we have lots of spare spars."

"Do you mean to pass through the Mozambique Channel?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you armed?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"With four six-pound carronades and some small arms."

"That is lucky; keep a bright look-out after you pass the Europa rocks."

"For what reason?"

"Some Malay pirates, in three large red proas, or country boats, have destroyed more than one ship in that quarter, so be prepared."

"Thank you, we shall--good-bye."

"Good-bye; pleasant voyage."

Each vessel filled away, and the rush of the warship's screw propeller was heard by those imprisoned in the cabin as they separated, and as it died away in the distance, so did hope die, and silent despair gather in the hearts of our friends below.

Repentant, and almost full of horror for the part he was now acting, as the ship of war braced up her yards, and her screw began to revolve, Cramply Hawkshaw rushed to the starboard gangway, and was about to hail her again. What he was about to say he scarcely knew, but in a moment the powerful hand of Pedro Barradas was on his throat. By main strength the latter hurled him at full length upon the deck, and with one knee planted on his chest, and a knife upheld above him:

"_Silenzio, perro!_ (Silence, dog!)" he hissed, through his sharp white teeth; "one word, one whisper, and it is your last!"

Pedro's tawny visage was pale, almost pea-green with rage, and with black eyes, that gleamed like two sombre carbuncles, he glared into the very soul of the miserable Hawkshaw, and continued to hold him thus for some time. He then dragged him up, and roughly shook him off, saying, as he did so, with a ferocious grimace, and sheathing his knife:

"_Por ma vida_! I don't know why I don't kill you now, as I mean to do so, at some time or other."

"So we are only 200 miles from El Cabo de Santa Maria?" said Zuares, who was still at the wheel.

"Nor'-nor'-east," added Pedro, giving a glance at the compasses in the binnacle; "two points more, Zuares."

"The monsoon will soon bring us abreast of it, I calc'late," drawled Badger, who now enjoyed the honourable post of second in command. "Thunder! then we shall all be liberty boys, and look out our go-ashore togs. I reckons on bein' all the go among the Malay gals, eh, Zuares!"

"_Vivan los marineros!_" cried the young Mexican.

"And down with the 'tarnal imps below!" added Badger, striking his huge splay foot on the deck, as he relieved the wheel, notwithstanding his brevet rank.

The headland named by the officer of the corvette is the most southern point of the long narrow island of Madagascar; but no sooner had all sounds indicative of her presence died away, than Captain Phillips and his companions, who had listened to the colloquy above, as if spell-bound, broke into expressions of bitter regret that they had not all made a scramble on deck, and risked death or anything, that some, at least, might have been saved! but these ideas came too late, and they could only hope for a better chance next time; so true it is, as some one says, that regrets for the past, and dreams for the future, make up the whole career of human life, at sea as well as on shore.