The Pirate

“My lads,” replied Francisco, when the captain had done speaking, “I think it better that you should accept this proposal rather than that blood should be shed. My life is of little consequence; say, then, will you agree to the vote, and submit to those laws, which, as the captain says, have been laid down to regulate the discipline of the vessel?”

The pirates on Francisco’s side looked round among their party, and, perceiving that they were the most numerous, consented to the proposal; but Hawkhurst stepped forward and observed: “Of course the Kroumen can have no votes, as they do not belong to the vessel.”

This objection was important, as they amounted to twenty-five, and, after that number was deducted, in all probability, Francisco’s adherents would have been in the minority. The pirates, with Francisco, objected, and again assumed the attitude of defence.

“One moment,” said Francisco, stepping in advance; “before this point is settled, I wish to take the sense of all of you as to another of your laws. I ask you, Hawkhurst, and all who are now opposed to me, whether you have not one law, which is Blood for blood?”

“Yes—yes,” shouted all the pirates.

“Then let your captain stand forward, and answer to my charge, if he dares.”

Cain curled his lip in derision, and walked within two yards of Francisco.

“Well, boy, I’m here; and what is your charge?”

“First—I ask you, Captain Cain, who are so anxious that the laws should be enforced, whether you acknowledge that ‘Blood for blood’ is a just law?”

“Most just: and, when shed, the party who revenges is not amenable.”

“’Tis well: then villain that thou art, answer—Didst thou not murder my mother?”

Cain, at this accusation, started.

“Answer the truth, or lie like a recreant!” repeated Francisco. “Did you not murder my mother?”

The captain’s lips and the muscles of his face quivered, but he did not reply.

“Blood for blood!” cried Francisco, as he fired his pistol at Cain, who staggered, and fell on the deck.

Hawkhurst and several of the pirates hastened to the captain, and raised him.

“She must have told him last night,” said Cain, speaking with difficulty, as the blood flowed from the wound.

“He told me so himself,” said Francisco, turning round to those who stood by him.

Cain was taken down into the cabin. On examination, his wound was not mortal, although his loss of blood had been rapid and very great. In a few minutes Hawkhurst joined the party on the quarter deck. He found that the tide had turned more in Francisco’s favour than he had expected; the law of “Blood for blood” was held most sacred: indeed, it was but the knowledge that it was solemnly recognised, and that, if one pirate wounded another, the other was at liberty to take his life, without punishment, which prevented constant affrays between parties, whose knives would otherwise have been the answer to every affront. It was a more debased law of duelling, which kept such profligate associates on good terms. Finding, therefore, that this feeling predominated, even among those who were opposed to Francisco on the other question, Hawkhurst thought it advisable to parley.

“Hawkhurst,” said Francisco, “I have but one request to make, which, if complied with, will put an end to this contention; it is, that you will put me on shore at the first land that we make. If you and your party engage to do this, I will desire those who support me to return to their obedience.”

“I grant it,” replied Hawkhurst; “and so will the others. Will you not, my men?”

“Agreed—agreed upon all sides,” cried the pirates, throwing away their weapons, and mingling with each other, as if they had never been opposed.

There is an old saying, that there is honour amongst thieves; and so it often proves. Every man in the vessel knew that this agreement would be strictly adhered to; and Francisco now walked the deck with as much composure as if nothing had occurred.

Hawkhurst, who was aware that he must fulfil his promise, carefully examined the charts when he went down below, came up and altered the course of the schooner two points more to the northward. The next morning he was up at the mast-head nearly half an hour, when he descended, and again altered the course. By nine o’clock a low sandy island appeared on the lee bow; when within half a mile of it, he ordered the schooner to be hove to, and lowered down the small boat from the stern. He then turned the hands up. “My lads, we must keep our promise, to put Francisco on shore at the first land which we made. There it is!” And a malicious smile played on the miscreant’s features as he pointed out to them the barren sand-bank, which promised nothing but starvation and a lingering death. Several of the crew murmured; but Hawkhurst was supported by his own party, and had, moreover, taken the precaution quietly to remove all the arms, with the exception of those with which his adherents were provided.

“An agreement is an agreement; it is what he requested himself, and we promised to perform. Send for Francisco.”

“I am here, Hawkhurst; and I tell you candidly, that, desolate as is that barren spot, I prefer it to remaining in your company. I will bring my chest up immediately.”

“No—no; that was not a part of the agreement,” cried Hawkhurst.

“Every man here has a right to his own property: I appeal to the whole of the crew.”

“True—true,” replied the pirates; and Hawkhurst found himself again in the minority.

“Be it so.”

The chest of Francisco was handed into the boat.

“Is that all?” cried Hawkhurst.

“My lads, am I to have no provisions or water?” inquired Francisco.

“No,” replied Hawkhurst.

“Yes—yes,” cried most of the pirates.

Hawkhurst did not dare put it to the vote; he turned sulkily away. The Kroumen brought up two breakers of water, and some pieces of pork.

“Here, massa,” said Pompey, putting into Francisco’s hand a fishing-line with hooks.

“Thank you, Pompey; but I had forgot—that book in the cabin—you know which I mean.”

Pompey nodded his head, and went below; but it was some time before he returned, during which Hawkhurst became impatient. It was a very small boat which had been lowered down; it had a lug-sail and two pair of sculls in it, and was quite full when Francisco’s chest and the other articles had been put in.

“Come! I have no time to wait,” said Hawkhurst; “in the boat!”

Francisco shook hands with many of the crew, and wished all of them farewell. Indeed, now that they beheld the poor lad about to be cast on the desolate island, even those most opposed to him felt some emotions of pity. Although they acknowledged that his absence was necessary, yet they knew his determined courage; and with them that quality was always a strong appeal.

“Who will row this lad ashore, and bring the boat off?”

“Not I,” replied one; “it would haunt me ever afterwards.”

So they all appeared to think, for no one volunteered. Francisco jumped into the boat.

“There is no room for any one but me; and I will row myself on shore,” cried he. “Farewell, my lads! farewell!”

“Stop? not so; he must not have the boat—he may escape from the island,” cried Hawkhurst.

“And why shouldn’t he, poor fellow?” replied the men. “Let him have the boat.”

“Yes—yes, let him have the boat;” and Hawkhurst was again overruled.

“Here, Massa Francisco—here de book.”

“What’s that, sir?” cried Hawkhurst, snatching the book out of Pompey’s hand.