The Pirate

“I believe that you state the truth, Captain Cain, for you are too bold to lie; and, as far as I am concerned, you have all the forgiveness you may wish; but I cannot take that hand; nor are our accounts yet settled.”

“What would you more? Cannot we be friends again? I do not ask you to remain on board. You are free to go where you please. Come, Francisco, take my hand, and let us forget what is past.”

“The hand that is imbrued with my mother’s blood, perhaps!” exclaimed Francisco. “Never!”

“Not so, by God!” exclaimed Cain. “No, no; not quite so bad as that. In my mood I struck your mother; I grant it. I did not intend to injure her, but I did, and she died. I will not lie—that is the fact. And it is also the fact that I wept over her, Francisco; for I loved her as I do you.

“It was a hasty, bitter blow, that,” continued Cain, soliloquising, with his hand to his forehead, and unconscious of Francisco’s presence at the moment. “It made me what I am, for it made me reckless.”

“Francisco,” said Cain, raising his head, “I was bad, but I was no pirate when your mother lived. There is a curse upon me: that which I love most I treat the worst. Of all the world, I loved your mother most: yet did she from me receive much injury, and at last I caused her death. Next to your mother, whose memory I at once revere and love, and tremble when I think of (and each night does she appear to me), I have loved you, Francisco; for you, like her, have an angel’s feelings: yet have I treated you as ill. You thwarted me, and you were right. Had you been wrong, I had not cared; but you were right, and it maddened me. Your appeals by day—your mother’s in my dreams—”

Francisco’s heart was softened; if not repentance, there was at least contrition. “Indeed I pity you,” replied Francisco.

“You must do more, Francisco; you must be friends with me,” said Cain, again extending his hand.

“I cannot take that hand, it is too deeply dyed in blood,” replied Francisco.

“Well, well, so would have said your mother. But hear me, Francisco,” said Cain, lowering his voice to a whisper, lest he should be overheard; “I am tired of this life—perhaps sorry for what I have done—I wish to leave it—have wealth in plenty concealed where others know not. Tell me, Francisco, shall we both quit this vessel, and live together happily and without doing wrong? You shall share all, Francisco. Say, now, does that please you?”

“Yes; it pleases me to hear that you will abandon your lawless life, Captain Cain; but share your wealth I cannot, for how has it been gained?”

“It cannot be returned, Francisco; I will do good with it. I will indeed, Francisco. I—will—repent;” and again the hand was extended.

Francisco hesitated.

“I do, so help me God! I do repent, Francisco!” exclaimed the pirate-captain.

“And I, as a Christian, do forgive you all,” replied Francisco, taking the still extended hand. “May God forgive you, too!”

“Amen!” replied the pirate, solemnly, covering his face up in his hands.

In this position he remained some minutes, Francisco watching him in silence. At last the face was uncovered, and, to the surprise of Francisco, a tear was on the cheek of Cain and his eyes suffused with moisture. Francisco no longer waited for the hand to be extended; he walked up to the captain, and taking him by the hand, pressed it warmly.

“God bless you, boy! God bless you!” said Cain; “but leave me now.”

Francisco returned on deck with a light and grateful heart. His countenance at once told those who were near him that he was not condemned, and many who dared not before take notice of him, now saluted him. The man who had taken him out of irons looked round; he was a creature of Hawkhurst, and he knew not how to act. Francisco observed him, and, with a wave of the hand, ordered him below. That Francisco was again in authority was instantly perceived, and the first proof of it was, that the new second mate reported to him that there was a sail on the weather bow.

Francisco took the glass to examine her. It was a large schooner under all sail. Not wishing that any one should enter the cabin but himself, he went down to the cabin-door, and knocked before he entered, and reported the vessel.

“Thank you, Francisco; you must take Hawkhurst’s duty for the present—it shall not be for long; and fear not that I shall make another capture. I swear to you I will not, Francisco. But this schooner—I know very well what she is: she has been looking after us some time: and a week ago, Francisco, I was anxious to meet her, that I might shed more blood. Now I will do all I can to avoid her, and escape. I can do no more, Francisco. I must not be taken.”

“There I cannot blame you. To avoid her will be easy, I should think; the Avenger outsails everything.”

“Except, I believe, the Enterprise, which is a sister-vessel. By heaven! it’s a fair match,” continued Cain, his feelings of combativeness returning for a moment; “and it will look like a craven to refuse the fight: but fear not, Francisco—I have promised you, and I shall keep my word.”

Cain went on deck, and surveyed the vessel through the glass.

“Yes, it must be her,” said he aloud, so as to be heard by the pirates; “she has been sent out by the admiral on purpose, full of his best men. What a pity we are short-handed!”

“There’s enough of us, sir,” observed the boatswain.

“Yes,” replied Cain, “if there was anything but hard blows to be got; but that is all, and I cannot spare more men. Ready about!” continued he, walking aft.

The Enterprise, for she was the vessel in pursuit, was then about five miles distant, steering for the Avenger, who was on a wind. As soon as the Avenger tacked, the Enterprise took in her topmast studding-sail, and hauled her wind. This brought the Enterprise well on the weather-quarter of the Avenger, who now made all sail. The pirates, who had had quite enough of fighting, and were not stimulated by the presence of Hawkhurst, or the wishes of their captain, now showed as much anxiety to avoid, as they usually did to seek, a combat.

At the first trial of sailing between the two schooners there was no perceptible difference; for half an hour they both continued on a wind, and when Edward Templemore examined his sextant a second time, he could not perceive that he had gained upon the Avenger one cable’s length.

“We will keep away half a point,” said Edward to his second in command. “We can afford that, and still hold the weather-gage.”

The Enterprise was kept away, and increased her speed: they neared the Avenger more than a quarter of a mile.

“They are nearing us,” observed Francisco; “we must keep away a point.”

Away went the Avenger, and would have recovered her distance, but the Enterprise was again steered more off the wind.

Thus did they continue altering their course until the studding-sails below and aloft were set by both, and the position of the schooners was changed; the Enterprise now being on the starboard instead of the larboard quarter of the Avenger. The relative distance between the two schooners was, however, nearly the same, that is, about three miles and a half from each other; and there was every prospect of a long and weary chase on the part of the Enterprise, who again kept away a point to near the Avenger.

Both vessels were now running to the eastward.

It was about an hour before dark that another sail hove in sight right a-head of the Avenger, and was clearly made out to be a frigate. The pirates were alarmed at this unfortunate circumstance, as there was little doubt but that she would prove a British cruiser; and, if not, they had equally reason to expect that she would assist in their capture. She had evidently perceived the two schooners, and had made all sail, tacking every quarter of an hour so as to keep her relative position. The Enterprise, who had also made out the frigate, to attract her attention, although not within range of the Avenger, commenced firing with her long-gun.

“This is rather awkward,” observed Cain.

“It will be dark in less than an hour,” observed Francisco; “and that is our only chance.”

Cain reflected a minute.

“Get the long-gun ready, my lads! We will return her fire, Francisco, and hoist American colours; that will puzzle the frigate at all events, and the night may do the rest.”

The long-gun of the Avenger was ready.

“I would not fire the long-gun,” observed Francisco, “it will show our force, and will give no reason for our attempt to escape. Now, if we were to fire our broadside-guns, the difference of report between them and the one of large calibre fired by the other schooner would induce them to think that we are an American vessel.”

“Very true,” replied Cain, “and, as America is at peace with all the world, that our antagonist is a pirate. Hold fast the long-gun, there; and unship the starboard ports. See that the ensign blows out clear.”

The Avenger commenced firing an occasional gun from her broadside, the reports of which were hardly to be heard by those on board of the frigate; while the long-gun of the Enterprise reverberated along the water, and its loud resonance was swept by the wind to the frigate to leeward.

Such was the state of affairs when the sun sank down in the wave, and darkness obscured the vessels from each other’s sight, except with the assistance of the night telescopes.

“What do you propose to do, Captain Cain?” said Francisco.

“I have made up my mind to do a bold thing. I will run down to the frigate, as if for shelter; tell him that the other vessel is a pirate, and claim his protection. Leave me to escape afterwards; the moon will not rise till nearly one o’clock.”

“That will be a bold ruse, indeed; but suppose you are once under her broadside, and she suspects you?”

“Then I will show her my heels. I should care nothing for her and her broadside if the schooner was not here.”

In an hour after dark the Avenger was close to the frigate, having steered directly for her. She shortened sail gradually, as if she had few hands on board; and, keeping his men out of sight, Cain ran under the stern of the frigate.