Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop

The crew of the Seafowl had a busy day’s work after a good refresher, during which officers and men had been discussing in low tones the way in which “the skipper,” as they called him, had let himself be tricked by the Yankee. The younger men wanted to know what he could have been about, while the elder shook their heads sagely.

“Ah,” more than one said, “it has always been the same since the revolution; these Yankees have been too much for us. There’s something in the American air that sharpens their brains.”

Then old Dempsey, the boatswain, who had heard pretty well all that the captain had said, chewed it over, digested it, and gave it voice as if it was something new, to first one knot of listeners and then another, ending with the two midshipmen.

“You see, Mr Murray, and you too, Mr Roberts, it was like this. That schooner had just started for the West Injies with a full load of niggers, when she sighted the Seafowl and knowed she was a king’s ship looking after a prize.”

“How could the Yankee skipper know that?” said Murray. “He could only get just a glimpse before we were hidden by the fog.”

“Cut of the jib, sir – cut of the jib,” said the old man. “What else could he think? ’Sides, Yankee slaving skippers have got consciences, same as other men.”

“Rubbish, Mr Dempsey!” said Roberts contemptuously.

“Course they are, sir – worst of rubbish, as you say, but there’s bad consciences as well as good consciences, and a chap like him, carrying on such work as his, must be always ready to see a king’s ship in every vessel he sights. But well, young gentlemen, as I was a-saying, he sights us, and there was no chance for him with us close on his heels but dodgery.”

“Dodgery, Mr Dempsey?” said Roberts.

“Yes, sir; Yankee tricks. Of course he couldn’t fight, knowing as he did that it meant a few round shot ’twixt and ’tween wind and water, and the loss of his craft. So he says to himself, ‘what’s to be done?’ and he plays us that trick. Sends his schooner up the river while he puts off in that there lugger and pretends to be a injyrubber grower. That ought to have been enough to set the skipper and Mr Anderson thinking something was wrong, but that’s neither here nor there. He pretends that he was a highly respectable sort of fellow, when all the time he was a sorter human fox, and lures, as the captain calls it, our sloop into this sort of a branch of the big river where the current runs wrong way on because part of the waters of the great river discharges theirselves. And then what follows?”

“Why, we were carried by the strange current into the muddy shallow and nearly capsized, Mr Dempsey, while we had the satisfaction of seeing the slaver sail away with her crew,” interposed Murray impatiently.

The grizzly-headed, red-faced old boatswain turned upon the lad with an offended air and said with dignity —

“If you’d only had a little patience, Mr Murray, I was going to tell you all that.”

He grunted audibly as he walked away, and as soon as he was out of hearing Murray cried impatiently —

“What did he want to bore us with all that for? Tiresome old fogey! But I say, Dick, you take my advice – don’t you get anywhere near the skipper if you can help it to-day. He took things very smoothly before breakfast, but you’ll see now that he will be as savage as a bear with a sore head, as they say, and lead every one a terrible life.”

“Oh, if you are going to deal out old saws, young man,” replied Roberts, “you go and teach your grandmother how to suck eggs. Just as if I was likely to go near him until he has got the sloop well afloat!”

But what proved to have been every one’s opinion turned out entirely wrong, for the captain had never shown himself to better advantage.

As soon as breakfast was over, and had been partaken of in the most deliberate way as far as he was concerned, he turned to the officers, all smiles, and began giving orders in the coolest of fashions and all guided by so much judgment that by carefully laying out anchors, the use of the capstan, haulage, and taking advantage of the wind, the sloop soon rose upon an even keel and rested at last in a safe position. The tide that ran up as far as the black king’s city did the rest, and the next day the sloop lay at anchor just where the schooner had been the previous morning, that is to say, in a position where she could easily gain access to the sea.

Once the sloop was in safety and the officers had pretty well mastered the intricacies of the river’s course, and the tidal and other currents which protected the slaver’s lair, a couple of armed boats pulled ashore to examine the place with caution, lest they should encounter some other trap.

“There’s no knowing, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, “so at the slightest sign of danger draw back. I don’t want a man to be even wounded at the expense of capturing a score of the black scum, even if one of them proves to be the king.”

The captain’s orders were carefully carried out, while once more the two midshipmen succeeded in accompanying the landing parties, to find that the king’s town of palm-thatched hovels was completely deserted. It had evidently been a busy, thickly inhabited place, where prisoners were herded together by the brutal savages who made incursions in different directions, and held their unfortunate captives ready for the coming of the slaver. But now the place was a dreary silent waste, and the trail well marked showed plainly the direction taken by the native marauders to some forest stronghold, near at hand or far distant, it was impossible to say which.

“Pah!” ejaculated Murray, as he sprang back with disgust from the strongly palisaded enclosure which was evidently the prisoners’ barracks. “Let’s get away, Dick.”

“I’m ready,” was the reply, “but I say, did you go round the other side yonder?”

The lad pointed as he spoke.

“No. What was there to see?”

“Tom May found it out,” replied the midshipman, “and I was idiot enough to go. Here, Tom,” he cried, signing to the generally amiable-looking sailor to approach; and he strode up, cutlass in hand, musket over his shoulder, scowling and fierce of aspect. “Tell Mr Murray what you showed me over yonder, Tom.”

The man’s face puckered up as he turned and met Murray’s eyes.

“It’s ’most too horrid, sir,” he said, “and don’t do no good but make a man savage, sir. There’s just fourteen of ’em among the trees there.”

“What, prisoners?” said Murray excitedly.

“Yes, sir, and six on ’em got the chains on ’em still.”

“Well, what about the armourer?” cried Murray excitedly, turning upon Roberts. “Didn’t Mr Anderson have them struck off?”

“No, lad,” replied Roberts. “There was only one of them alive out of the whole fourteen, and I don’t think she’ll be alive when Munday comes back.”

“Comes back! I didn’t know he had put off again.”

“Gone for the doctor,” said Roberts. “Go on, Tom May. Tell him what you made it out to be.”

“Just this, sir – that they’d got more than the schooner could take away, and they finished off the sick and wounded.”

“How could you tell that?” said Murray, with a look of horror.

“Seemed pretty plain, sir. All the men had old wounds as well as what must have been given them to finish ’em yes’day morning, sir, when the black fellows forsook the place.”

“But you said – finished the men who had old wounds?”

“Yes, sir; half healed. T’other wounds was fresh, and the women and children – ”

“Women and children!” cried Murray excitedly.

“Yes, sir; knocked on the head – clubbed. Didn’t care to take ’em away with them, sir, when we come.”

“Oh, Dick,” said Murray, whose face now looked ghastly, “I knew that there were horrors enough over the slave-trade, but I never thought it could be so bad as that. Here, Tom, where is this? Show me.”

“Don’t be a fool, old chap,” whispered Roberts, grasping his companion’s arm. “You’ve heard what Tom said. I’ve seen it too, and I could tell you, but I won’t. It’s too horrid to go and see again.”

“Yes, it must be horrible,” said the young man passionately; “but you said one poor creature was still alive?”

“Yes, and the doctor’s being fetched.”

“But something might be done – water – carried into the shade.”

“We did all that, sir,” said the sailor gruffly.

“Who did?” asked Murray excitedly.

“Well, I helped, sir, and the poor black lass looked at me as if she thought I was one of ’em going to take her aboard a slaver.”

“But didn’t you tell her – Oh, you are right, Dick; I am a fool! She couldn’t have understood unless it was by our acts.”