Part 15 (1/2)
At length, after an hour of this work, the black flag, which had fallen with the main-topmast, was exhibited above the bulwarks of the schooner for a moment, lashed to a boat's oar, and was then dropped again, in token of surrender.
”That means that they've struck, sir, you may depend on't,” exclaimed Ritson, walking aft as if for further instructions.
”Yes, I have no doubt it does,” replied Captain Leicester; ”but if they expect that the fact of their striking will be of any benefit to them, they are woefully mistaken. We are altogether too short-handed to attempt to take possession of her as a prize; and as to leaving her alone, in order that she may repair damages and have the opportunity of renewing her depredations, it is not to be thought of. She is not ent.i.tled to any of the privileges of an ordinary enemy, nor shall I extend any such to her. She is simply _a pirate_, one of those pests of the high seas which it is the duty of any honest man to destroy, if he have the opportunity. And that,” he concluded grimly, ”is what I intend to do. Keep up your fire, sir, and aim so as to strike her between wind and water if possible. I'll sink her before I've done with her.”
Ritson accordingly returned forward, and, communicating the captain's determination to the crew, they resumed work at the gun, with the stern set faces of men who recognised that they had a very terrible and disagreeable duty to perform, from the responsibility of which they dared not shrink.
As soon as the schooner's crew discovered that their surrender had not been accepted, they reopened fire as well as they could from their own guns, and a man was seen to jump into the main-rigging and run aloft with something rolled up under his arm, which proved in another minute to be the black flag. Ascending as high as the lower masthead, he coolly climbed up on the cross-trees, and, standing there, deftly and rapidly lashed it to the masthead, after which he deliberately descended the rigging again, defiantly shaking his fist at the _Aurora_ as he did so.
About ten minutes after the occurrence of this incident there followed another of an infinitely more thrilling and startling character. The _Aurora_ had worn round, and was once more pa.s.sing the schooner; and Ritson was in the act of glancing along the sights of the gun, preparatory to giving the order to fire, when, without the slightest warning or premonition of the dreadful tragedy about to take place, a dazzling flash of light was seen on board the schooner, her spars, her deck, and all that was upon it went soaring in fragments high into the air, her sides were rent open, and in a tremendous cloud of smoke, and with a deafening report, the devoted craft disappeared.
The barque's whole frame jarred, her canvas flapped violently, and she careened perceptibly under the terrific concussion; a dead silence seemed suddenly to have fallen upon the scene of strife, and then came the _splash, splash_ of the falling fragments into the water around, accompanied by the heavy thud of others descending upon the barque's deck; the water seethed and leaped madly for a few seconds on the spot where the schooner had a minute before been floating, then subsided once more into the long, steady, regular run and heave of the sea, and all was over.
Whether the explosion was the result of accident, or the deliberate act of her desperate and reckless commander, it was of course impossible to ascertain; very probably it was the latter; but, whatever the cause of it, the pirate schooner was no more; a few rent and blackened timbers, with here and there the mangled remains of what had a few minutes before been a human being, floating on the surface of the heaving waters, was all that remained of her and her crew. George Leicester's grim deed of retribution was complete.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
SURPRISED.
”A Terrible ending to a sin-stained career,” murmured the skipper of the _Aurora_ with white set lips, when the first shock of surprise and consternation had pa.s.sed away sufficiently to allow him to speak. ”Up with your helm, my man,” he continued to the seaman at the wheel; ”up with your helm, and keep her away upon a west and by south course; we'll get away from this accursed spot as soon as possible. Man the braces, fore and aft, if you please, Mr Ritson, square the yards, secure the long-gun, and then let all hands make sail.”
Then, going to the companion, he pa.s.sed the word below for Mr Bowen to close the magazine and come on deck.
Five minutes later the chief mate emerged from the companion, and, walking up to George, observed--
”Well, sir, you've managed to make a pretty effectual end of the buccaneer, I see.”
”Yes,” answered George gravely. ”The schooner struck; but we are much too short-handed to take and retain possession of such a craft as that, so, as I did not feel justified in leaving them at liberty to resume their nefarious business, I continued to fire into the schooner, intending to sink her; and I am of opinion that her captain, recognising the fact that escape was hopeless, blew her up with his own hand, hoping to involve us in the destruction also. It was a terrible thing, Mr Bowen, to cause the loss of so many lives, but I am convinced that I only did my duty. And now, as there seems to be no immediate prospect of our falling in with the fleet again, I propose to take full advantage of this fine fair wind, and proceed upon my voyage; so please pack on the s.h.i.+p everything that will draw; then let the men clear up the decks, and knock off work; they have had two very fatiguing days, and have fought well; let them get all the rest they possibly can between this and to-morrow morning.”
When the sun set that evening, the _Aurora_ was flying to the southward and westward (as if instinct with life and thrilling with horror at her terrible achievement) before the freshening gale at the rate of fully twelve knots per hour, with studding-sails set on both sides, alow and aloft; while her crew, a.s.sembled on the forecastle, discussed in low tones the incidents of the fight, and her skipper, with hands clasped behind him, bent head, and furrowed brow, held solemn self-communion upon the same subject.
George Leicester now found himself at liberty to attend to his guest, and he spent almost the whole of his leisure time by the side of Walford's cot. For the first week after the arrival of the latter on board the _Aurora_ very little change or improvement could be detected in him; his mental faculties seemed to be almost paralysed; and he would lie in his cot for hours at a time, with wide-opened eyes, staring into vacancy, the blank, expressionless look upon his face betraying the utter inactivity of his mind. Then there would occur a short period, during which it seemed that memory was struggling to re-a.s.sert itself; he would glance vacantly round the cosy sleeping-cabin in which he found himself, a look of mild surprise would overspread his features, and he would pa.s.s his hand over his brow with the action of one who is trying to remember something; then would recur another vacant period.
During all this time he never expressed a wish or uttered a single coherent word; only occasionally, when the memory was struggling to regain its seat, he would mutter a few incoherent words, that of ”murder” being sometimes repeated, in low tones of suppressed horror, half-a-dozen times together. His appet.i.te appeared to be good, since he ate and drank freely whatever was offered him; but if the food was withheld, as it sometimes was, by way of experiment, at Captain Leicester's order, he never asked for it, or evinced any surprise or uneasiness at its non-appearance.
About the tenth day, however, after the one on which he had been picked up, George thought he detected signs of improvement. The periods of thinking were more frequent and more prolonged, and once during that day, when the skipper entered the cabin, Walford noticed the opening of the door, and, turning his eyes in that direction, regarded George for some moments with a steadfast inquiring look; but the recognition, if such there was, was momentary only, the hand was pressed meditatively to the forehead the next instant, and then the blank look returned.
The next day witnessed a recurrence of the same symptoms, added to which there seemed to be a vague sort of semi-recognition of George's voice; for, whenever the latter spoke, Walford would look up with an anxious questioning glance, as though he had an idea that he had heard the voice before.
Finally, on that same evening, when George and Mr Bowen were in the saloon together, chatting over the tea-table, the after-cabin door being open, so as to insure a current of air through the apartment, Walford, who had been asleep, suddenly started up in his cot with the exclamation--
”Surely that is Leicester's voice?”
George heard the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, and, springing to his feet, stepped eagerly into the sleeping-cabin, saying--
”Of course it is, my dear fellow. How do you feel now? Better?”
”Better?” repeated Walford. ”I haven't been ill, have I? Where am I?
How did I come here? And where did _you_ come from?”