The Privateer's-Man, One hundred Years Ago

“Stand back,” said I.

“Stand back,” replied he, pointing his pistol down to the magazine.

I threw up his arm, and the pistol went off, striking the beams above.

“Blast you,” cried he, “whoever you are; but I’ve another,” and he attempted to draw it out of his belt, but before he could effect it I blew out his brains with the pistol which I had ready cocked in my hand.

His companions started back, and I pointed my second pistol at them, saying, “The man who comes forward this way dies.”

As I said this the crew of the corvette, who had cleared the decks, charged down below, and the pirates ran away and secreted themselves. Perceiving them coming forward, I said to them, “Put a guard over the magazine; they have attempted to blow up the vessel already.”

“Who are you?” said an officer.

“A prisoner,” replied I.

“Well, then, lead him on deck, and stay here, two of you; shut down the magazine scuttle and keep guard.”

“Thank Heaven,” thought I, “that this affair is over,” as a seaman led me by the collar on deck, and handed me to others, who took me on board of the corvette.

We were all put down below that remained out of the schooner’s crew, about eighteen or nineteen, not more, and I was glad to find Captain Toplift, although badly wounded with a splinter, was among the number. We remained there huddled together with a guard of ten men over us for more than an hour, when we heard, from the conversation on deck, that the schooner had sunk. After that the guns of the corvette were secured, and the men had an allowance of liquor served out to them, the watch was called, and all was quiet during the remainder of that night. For some time I was in a state of excitement from the events of the last twenty-four hours crowding so rapidly, but by degrees I became calm. I asked one of the guard who was the captain of the corvette.

“What’s that to you, you gallows-bird?” replied he.

“A civil question might receive a civil reply,” answered I.

“So it might with any one else; but if you don’t want the hilt of my cutlass down your throat, you will hold your tongue.”

But I did not require to repeat the question, as I heard one of the officers on deck say, “It’s Captain Musgrave’s orders.”

This satisfied me, and I lay down with the rest of the prisoners, waiting for daybreak, when I trusted my troubles would soon be over. They were all sound asleep. Strange that men who knew that they would be hanged In a few days, if not the next morning, should sleep so sound—but so it was—while I, who had every reason to believe that my sufferings were over, could not sleep one wink. I was, however, fully satisfied with my own castle-buildings during the night, and more satisfied when it was again broad daylight. After the men had had their breakfast, an order came down for all the prisoners to be brought on deck. We were led up under guard, and made to stand all in a row. I looked round for my brother, but he was not on deck. It was the first lieutenant who was there, with several other officers, and the clerk, with pen and ink, to take down the names of the prisoners.

“Who was the captain of this vessel?” said the first lieutenant.

“I was, Sir,” replied Toplift; “but much against my will.”

“Oh, of course; every man was on board of her against his will. What is your name? Put him down, Mr. Pearson. Any other officers alive?”

“No, Sir,” replied Toplift.

The name of every man was then asked and put down, and it so happened that I was the last; for, anxious to see my brother, I had walked up the foremost, and they had commenced their interrogation at the other end of the line.

“What is your name?”

“I do not belong to the schooner,” replied I.

“Of course not; you dropped on board her from the clouds.”

“No, Sir, I did not; I swam on board of her to save my life.”

“Then you went out of the frying-pan into the fire, I reckon, my good fellow, for your life is forfeited now.”

“I rather think not, Sir,” replied I. “On the contrary, I feel it is quite safe.”

“Give us none of your jaw, my good fellow, but give us your name.”

“Certainly, Sir, if you require it. My name is Alexander Musgrave, Sir,” replied I; “I am the elder brother of your captain, Philip Musgrave, and I will thank you to go into his cabin and inform him that I am here.”

The first lieutenant and officers started back in astonishment, and so did Captain Toplift and the pirates. The first lieutenant hardly knew whether to consider it as a pretence on my part or not, and was undecided how to act, when Captain Toplift said, “I do not know whether the gentleman is as he says, but this is certain, and all the men can prove it as well as myself, that he did swim on board, as he said, to escape from the Indians, and that he has never joined the crew. They offered to make him captain in my stead, and he positively refused it.”

“Yes,” said all the pirates; “that’s true enough.”

“Well, Sir,” replied the first lieutenant, “I will certainly carry your message.”

“To make all certain,” replied I, “I will write my name on a slip of paper for you to take in to the captain. He knows my signature.”

I did so, and the first lieutenant took the paper, and went into the cabin. In a minute he returned, and requested me to follow him. I did so, and in another minute I was in the arms of my brother. For some time we neither of us could speak. At last Philip said, “That you are alive and well, let me thank Heaven. I have considered you as dead, and so have others; and to find you on board of a pirate—on board of a vessel which I have been riddling with shot, any one of which might have caused your death. Thank God I was ignorant that you were on board, or I never could have done my duty. I will not ask how you came on board of this vessel, for that must be the end of your narrative, which I must have from the time that you first left Rio, and afterwards in detail the whole from the time that you left the Coast.”

“Then they received my letters from Rio?”

“Yes, after imagining you were dead, they were rejoiced by those letters; but I will not anticipate my story, nor will I now ask for yours; it is sufficient at present that you are alive, my dear Alexander, and once more in my arms.”

“Let me ask one question,” replied I.

“I know what it will be. She was in good health, but suffering much in mind from having no account of you. Her father and others have reasoned with her, and painted the impossibility of your being in existence, as the xebeque you sailed in had never been heard of. She still adheres in the opinion that you are alive, and will not abandon the hope of seeing you again; but hope deferred has paled her cheek even more pale than it usually is, and she evidently suffers much, for her life is wrapped in yours. Now having told you this, you must come into my state-room, and allow me to enable you to appear as my brother ought to do. I do not think that there is any difference in our size now, although there was when we last parted.”

“Many thanks, Philip, but before I adonize my outward man I should wish to satisfy my inward cravings; and, to tell you the truth, I’m so hungry from not having broken my fast for nearly twenty-four hours, that if you could order something to eat while you are looking out the clothes, I should feel in no small degree grateful.”

Philip rang the bell and ordered the steward in bring something to eat and drink, and after eating I occupied a quarter of an hour more in getting rid of the pirate smoke and dirt, and putting on one of his uniforms, for he had no other clothes on board, when I came out, looking not at all like a pirate.

“Now, then,” said Philip, “before we have our tête-à-tête, come out with me, and let me introduce you to the officers as my brother.”

I went out with him, and was formally introduced. The first lieutenant apologized for his rough speech, but I told him that there was no occasion for any apology, as I had no doubt that I looked very much like a pirate at the time.

“More than you do now. Sir, at all events,” replied he.

“By the bye, brother,” said I, “there is one man among the prisoners who, although compelled to act as captain by the men, is no pirate. His conduct I will explain to you. May I request him to be kindly treated? His name is Toplift—and also two Portuguese, my former companions.”

“Certainly,” replied Philip, “your word is sufficient. Let those persons be released and taken care of,” said he to the first lieutenant. “We will wait for the particulars by-and-by.”

I remained on deck about ten minutes, and then returned to the cabin with my brother.

“What is this which you have left on my dressing-table?” said Philip, surveying the leather bag which contained the diamond.

“That, Philip,” said I, “is a portion of my narrative, and eventually may prove a very important one. I don’t think that I can afford to make you a present of it, but I shall see.”

“It does not look very valuable,” replied he.

“At all events, do me the favour to lock it up carefully,” replied I.