The Jolly Roger Tales: 60+ Pirate Novels, Treasure-Hunt Tales & Sea Adventures. Лаймен Фрэнк БаумЧитать онлайн книгу.
threats, however, and seemed to be anxiously awaiting the reply of Captain Wellsby, who said:
"The few medicines and simples in my chest will not suffice your need. Your ships are rotten with the Spanish fever."
"A ransom, shipmaster?" exclaimed the pirate. "'Twas in my mind when I flew a white flag for parley. I will hold some of your fine passengers as hostages while the others go in to rake Charles Town for medicines to fetch back to my fleet."
"You will send my ship in?" asked the skipper.
"No! This Plymouth Adventure is my good prize and I will overhaul the cargo and sink her at my leisure. My ship will tack in to Charles Town bar. Then let the messengers go in the long-boat to find the store of medicines. Harkee, shipmaster,—two days, no longer, for their return! Failing this, the hostages feed the fishes. Such sport 'ud liven the hearts of my doleful seamen."
It was a shameful bargain, thus to submit to a pirate's whim, but the wretched ship's company hailed it as a glad surprise. They had stood in the shadow of death and this was a respite and a chance of salvation. Captain Wellsby was heart-sick with humiliation but it was not for him to take into his hands the fate of all these others. Sadly he nodded assent. Jack Cockrell nudged his uncle and whispered:
"Why doesn't he sail in with his three ships and take what he likes? The town lies helpless against such a force as this."
"Ssh-h, be silent," was the warning. "He is a wary bird of prey and he fears a trap. He dare not attack the port, since he lacks knowledge of its defenses."
Jack's cheek was rosy again and his knees had ceased to tremble. There was no immediate prospect of walking the plank. To be captured by Blackbeard was a finer adventure than strutting arm-in-arm with Captain Stede Bonnet. It was mournful, indeed, that Captain Wellsby should have to lose his ship but 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good and the voyage to England, which Jack had loathed from the bottom of his heart, was indefinitely postponed. Such an experience as this was apt to discourage Uncle Peter Forbes from trying it again.
There were sundry chicken-hearted passengers anxious to curry favor with Blackbeard, who gabbled when they should have held their tongues, and in this manner he learned that he had bagged the honorable Secretary of the Provincial Council. The bewhiskered pirate slapped his thighs and roared with glee.
"Damme, but he looks it! Alack that my sorry need of medicines compels me to give quarter! Would I might swing this fat Secretary from a topsail yard! And a rogue of a lawyer to boot! He tempts me——"
"I demand the courtesy due a hostage," exclaimed Mr. Peter Forbes.
"Ho, ho, you shall be my lackey,—the chief messenger," laughed Blackbeard, showing his yellow teeth. "Hat in hand, begging medicines for me."
The honorable Secretary was near apoplexy. He could only sputter and cough. He was to be sent as an errand boy to the people of Charles Town, at the brutal behest of this unspeakable knave, but refusal meant death and there were his fellow captives to consider. He thought of his nephew and was about to plead that Jack be sent along with him when Blackbeard demanded:
"What of the boy? He takes my eye. No pursy swine of a lawyer could sire a lad of his brawn and inches."
"I am Master Cockrell," Jack answered for himself, "and I would have you more courteous to my worthy uncle."
It was a speech so bold that the scourge of the Spanish Main tugged at his whiskers with an air of comical perplexity. The headstrong Jack was keen enough to note that he had made an impression and he rashly added:
"'Tis not long since I knocked a pirate on the head for incivility."
Mr. Peter Forbes gazed aghast, with slackened jaw, expecting to see his mad nephew cut down by the sweep of a broadsword, but Blackbeard merely grinned and slapped the lad half-way across the deck with a buffet of his open hand. Dizzily Jack picked himself up and was furiously scolded by his uncle. Their lives hung by a hair and this was no time to play the fool. For once, however, Jack was the wiser of the two. In an amiable humor Blackbeard exclaimed:
"And so this strapping young jackanapes knocks pirates on the head! There be lazy dogs among my men that well deserve it. You shall stay aboard, Master Cockrell, whilst the juicy lubber of a lawyer voyages into Charles Town. He may sweat an' strive the more if I hold you as his security. Zounds, I'll make a gentleman rover of ye, Jack, for I like your mettle."
It was futile for the unhappy uncle to argue the matter. He could only obey the tyrant's pleasure and hope for a speedy return and the release of the terrified passengers. The Plymouth Adventure was ordered to haul her course to the westward and jog under easy sail toward the Charles Town bar. Blackbeard was rowed off to his own ship, the Revenge, leaving his sailing-master and a prize crew. These amused themselves by dragging the weeping women on deck and robbing them of their jewels and money, but no worse violence was offered. Middle-aged matrons and elderly spinsters, they were neither young nor fair enough to be stolen as pirates' brides.
The Revenge and the two sloops hovered within sight of the Plymouth Adventure and their sails gleamed phantom-like in the darkness. There was little sleep aboard the captured merchant trader. Some of the pirates amused themselves with hauling chests and boxes out of the cabins and spilling the contents about the deck in riotous disorder. One sprightly outlaw arrayed himself in a silken petticoat and flowered bodice and paraded as a languishing lady with false curls until the others pelted him with broken bottles and tar buckets. By the flare of torches they ransacked the ship for provisions, cordage, canvas, and heaped them ready to be dumped into boats.
Jack Cockrell looked on until he was too drowsy to stay awake and fell asleep on deck, his head pillowed on his arm. Through the night the watches were changed to the harsh summons of the pirate sailing-master or his mate. Once Jack awoke when a seaman staggered into the moonlight with blood running down his face. He was not likely to be caught napping on watch again.
At dawn the Plymouth Adventure was astir and the Revenge ran close aboard to watch Mr. Peter Arbuthnot Forbes and two prosperous merchants of Charles Town bundled into the long-boat. Blackbeard shouted bloody threats through his trumpet, reminding them that he would allow no more than two days' grace for their errand ashore. Uncle Peter was deeply affected as he embraced his nephew and kissed him on the cheek. Jack's eyes were wet and he faltered, with unsteady voice:
"Forgive me, sir, for all the trouble I have made you. Never did I expect a parting like this."
"A barbarous coast, Jack, and a hard road to old England," smiled the Secretary of the Council. "Have a stout heart. By God's grace I shall soon deliver you from these sea vermin."
The boy watched the long-boat hoist sail with a grizzled, scarred old boatswain from the Revenge at the tiller. It drove for the blue fairway of the channel between the frothing shoals of the bar and made brave headway for the harbor. Then the ships stood out to sea to go clear of a lee shore and the captives of the Plymouth Adventure endured the harrowing suspense with such courage as they could muster. Should any accident delay the return of the long-boat beyond two days, even head winds or foul weather, or if there was lack of medicines in the town, they were doomed to perish.
Jack Cockrell endured it with less anguish than the other wretched hostages. He had the sublime confidence of youth in its own destiny and he had found a chum in a boyish pirate named Joseph Hawkridge who said he had sailed out of London as an apprentice seaman in a ketch bound to Jamaica. He had been taken out of his ship by Blackbeard, somewhere off the Azores, and compelled to enlist or walk the plank. At first he was made cook's scullion but because he was well-grown and active, the chief gunner had taken him over as a powder boy.
This Joe Hawkridge was a waif of the London slums, hard and wise beyond his years, who had been starved and abused ever since he could remember. He had fled from cruel taskmasters ashore to endure the slavery of the sea and to be kidnapped into piracy was no worse than other things he had suffered. A gangling lad, with a grin on his homely face, he had certain instincts of manliness, of decent conduct, although he had known only men whose souls were black with sin. Heaven knows where he learned these cleaner aspirations. They