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Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific

<h3>Chapter Nineteen.</h3> <h4>Bob gives way to violence.</h4> Great was the consternation and distress at Staunton Cottage that night when the workers returned from the shipyard and reported the arrest and imprisonment of Captain Staunton and Lance Evelin. That these two should be placed in durance at all was regarded as a serious misfortune; but, coming as it did at so critical a time, just as the work on the schooner was drawing near its completion and when the long-looked-for opportunity to escape might present itself at almost any moment, it was justly regarded as a disaster of the gravest character. The imprisoned men were the two who had most completely retained their coolness and self-possession throughout the whole of the reverses which had befallen the party; it was their fertile brains which had devised the audaciously daring plan of escape, and without them the rest of the party felt that they dare not do anything for fear of marring the whole scheme. And there was still another misfortune attending this arrest: supposing a favourable opportunity presented itself for the carrying out of the plan, it could not be seized so long as these two men were prisoners; all, even to Dale, were fully agreed that escape without them was not to be thought of for a moment. For two of the party—poor Mrs Staunton and Blanche—there was still another source of anxiety. Now that Ralli had at last completely laid aside the mask of friendliness which had at first concealed his feeling of ill-will—now that he had cast off the last remains of a semblance of forbearance—to what terrible lengths might he not allow his vindictiveness to carry him? Would he stop short at the humiliation of imprisonment and fetters? Or was it not too greatly to be dreaded that he would now proceed also to active violence! This fear was fully shared by the rest of the party, but they were careful to hide it from the two poor heart-broken women who were chiefly interested in the prisoners, striving rather to inspire them with hopes which they themselves did not entertain. A long and most anxious discussion of the situation that night, Rex and Bowles taking the lead by virtue of their superior resolution and experience, was productive of absolutely no result except to place an additional damper upon their already sufficiently depressed spirits. Bob said nothing, but, like the queen’s parrot, he thought the more. Brook frankly acknowledged himself quite unequal to the emergency, as did Dale, but both cheerfully stated their readiness to do anything they might be directed to do. And here it may be stated that misfortune had been gradually doing for the latter—as it does for so many people—what prosperity had utterly failed to do, it had been driving out of him that peevishness of temper and that utter selfishness of character which had been his most disagreeable characteristics, and it had developed in their place an almost cheerful resignation to circumstances and a readiness to think and act for others which promised to make of him eventually a man whom it would be possible to both respect and esteem. The following day brought with it a full revelation of the state of things which our friends would have to expect in the future; Captain Staunton and Lance being taken out of their confinement only to be employed all day in fetters upon work of the most laborious description, and locked up again at night in the loathsome Black Hole; while for the benefit of the whole party—and for the rest of the prisoners also, for that matter—Ralli had provided himself with a “colt,” which he applied with merciless severity to their shoulders whenever the humour seized him. This last indignity was almost greater than they could bear; but Lance saw that the time was not yet ripe for action, and that there was really nothing for it but to bear everything in dignified silence at present and with as much fortitude as they could summon to their aid, and he managed to whisper as much to Bob, and to request him to “pass the word” to the others, which at intervals during the day Bob did. Before the day was over most of the prisoners, excepting those belonging to the Galatea party, had had enough of Ralli’s colt, and signified their readiness to join the “Brotherhood;” they were accordingly sworn in at nightfall on their return from work. This most unfortunate state of affairs had prevailed for nearly a fortnight, during which Ralli’s arrangements for the entire completion of the schooner whilst yet upon the stocks had been pressed vigorously forward, when Dickinson found himself in a position to announce to the Greek that another three days would see the schooner ready for sea, and that—a sufficient number of men being now at liberty to proceed with the work—the time had arrived for the laying-down of the ways and the construction of the cradle. The eyes of the Greek sparkled with delight. Three days!—Only three days more, or four at most, and the time for which he had so anxiously waited would have arrived; the time when he would find himself master not only of a battery which would enable him to hold the island against all comers—Johnson included—or rather, Johnson especially—but also of a smart little craft capable of sailing round and round the Albatross, and heavily enough armed to meet her upon equal terms. Let but those three or four days pass without interruption, and with what sincere delight would he view the approach of Johnson and his brig, and with what a warm and unexpected welcome would he receive them! He rubbed his hands with fiendish glee as he thought of this, and slapped Dickinson playfully on the shoulder as he bid him commence the necessary work forthwith. Thereupon Dickinson boldly stated that he must have the advice and assistance of Captain Staunton and Lance, as he didn’t know enough about cradles and ways and suchlike to build ’em properly, and he couldn’t find anybody on the island as did! The ex-boatswain’s mate was in hopes that this proposition of his would load to at least a temporary amelioration of the condition of his two friends, if not the absolute establishment of a better state of things; but his hopes were unexpectedly and effectually quenched by the announcement that the Greek knew all about it, and intended to superintend that part of the work himself. The time had now arrived when a definite plan of action at the decisive moment ought to be fully agreed upon; and feeling this, Dickinson arose from his bunk about midnight that night, and lighting his pipe sauntered in the direction of the Black Hole, hoping for an opportunity to confer and finally arrange matters with the prisoners confined therein. To his great disappointment and chagrin he found the door of the place—a small low building roughly but very solidly constructed of stone, with no windows and no means of ventilation save such as was afforded by the momentary opening of the door for ingress or egress—guarded by a couple of the most ruffianly of the pirates, fellows who were completely the creatures of Ralli, and who had on more than one occasion thrown out strong hints of their suspicion that Dickinson was on more friendly terms than he ought to be with the men now in confinement. To their searching inquiries as to the reasons for Dickinson’s untimely and suspicious visit to them the ex-boatswain’s mate was driven to reply with a complaint as to the extreme heat and closeness of the night, and of his inability to sleep in consequence, his restlessness being such as to constrain him to rise and come outside for a smoke and a chat with somebody; and, there being no one else to chat with, he had just come to them. To this explanation he added a careless offer to relieve them of their guard for the rest of the night; but this offer provoked such an expression of unqualified suspicion from both the guards that he at once saw he was treading on very dangerous ground, and was accordingly fain to abandon his well-intentioned effort to communicate with those inside the prison door. Driven thus into a corner, he resolved to get a word or two, if possible, with the inmates of Staunton Cottage; and he accordingly sauntered off, taking a very roundabout way, as long as he thought it at all possible for his movements to be seen by the already suspicious guards. Dickinson’s complaint as to the heat and closeness of the night was quite sufficiently well founded to have been accepted as perfectly genuine. It was pitchy dark, the sky being obscured by a thin veil of cloud which was yet sufficiently dense to completely obscure the light of the stars; the air was still to the extent of stagnation; and the temperature was so unusually high that Dickinson found the mere act of walking, even at the idle sauntering pace which he had adopted, a laborious exertion. In the great and oppressive stillness which prevailed, the hoarse thunder of the trampling surf upon the rocky shores of the island smote so loudly upon the ear as to be almost startling; and to the lonely wanderer there in the stifling darkness the sound seemed to bring a vague mysterious premonition of disaster. Dickinson had almost reached the cottage when he became conscious of another sound rising above that of the roaring surf, the sound as of a heavily-laden wagon approaching over a rough and stony road, or of a heavy train rumbling through a tunnel at no great depth beneath the surface of the earth. The sound, dull and muffled still, swept rapidly toward him from seaward, and at the moment of its greatest intensity there was for an instant a vibrating jar of the ground beneath his feet; the next moment it had passed, and the sound swept onward toward the interior of the island until it again became lost in the hollow roar of the distant breakers. Somewhat startled by this singular and unusual phenomenon, Dickinson hurried forward, and soon stood beneath the walls of the cottage. A light was still burning in one of the upper rooms; so, seizing a handful of fine gravel, he flung it against the window in the hope of quietly attracting the attention of the inmates. After two or three essays his efforts were rewarded with success, the window being softly opened and Bowles’ head thrust out, with the low-spoken ejaculation: “Hillo, below there!” “It’s me—Dickinson,” was the equally low-spoken response. “If you’re not all turned-in I’d be glad to have a few words with some of yer.” “All right, my lad!” said Bowles. “I’ll be down in a jiffey. Nothing else gone wrong, I hope?” “No,” said Dickinson; “I only wants to make a few arrangements; that’s all.” In another minute the ladder was cautiously lowered, and Rex and Bowles joined their visitor. “I say, gen’lemen, did you hear anything pecoolyer a few minutes ago?” was Dickinson’s first remark. “Yes,” said Rex; “did you? Unless I am greatly mistaken we have been visited by a slight shock of earthquake.” “’Arthquake, eh? Well, if ’tain’t nothing worse than that I don’t mind,” was the response. “You see I don’t know much about ’arthquakes, not bein’ used to ’em, and I felt a bit scared just at first, I own; but if so be as it’s only a ’arthquake, why that’s all right. If anything like that happens I like to know, if it’s only to keep my mind quiet. But that ain’t what I’ve come up here to rouse you gen’lemen out in the middle watch about; it’s just this here.” And therewith he proceeded to lay before his hearers his own view of the state of affairs, pointing out to them the fact—already keenly recognised by them—that the moment for action might now present itself at any time, and explaining his own anxiety for a definite arrangement of some plan of operations, together with an agreement upon certain preconcerted signals to be of such a character as should be easily understood by the initiated while unlikely to arouse the suspicions of the rest. A long conference ensued, at the close of which Dickinson quietly returned to his hammock with a greatly relieved mind. The others also retired, but not to sleep. They felt that the decisive moment was at hand, the moment upon the right use of which depended their liberty, if not their lives, for they were fully persuaded that if their first attempt failed they would never be allowed to have another—and, though still anxious, their recent talk with Dickinson had made them more hopeful of success than they had ever felt before. Hitherto they had always been haunted by a lurking doubt; but now they began for the first time to think that there really was a fair prospect of succeeding if they faced the dangers and difficulties of the attempt with boldness and resolution. Their chief anxiety now was how to free their two comrades; and to this they were as yet quite unable to see their way. Their anxiety and distress were greatly increased on the following day by finding that Ralli had given orders that his two prisoners, the skipper and Lance, were henceforth to be kept in close confinement altogether, with a double guard fully armed at the door, instead of being released during the day to work with the others at the shipyard. To be confined at all in the noisome “Black Hole” was bad enough, and their fortnight’s incarceration had already told visibly on the health of the prisoners, even when they had had the opportunity of breathing a pure atmosphere during the day; but now that they were doomed to remain in the place both day and night their friends became seriously alarmed; they felt that the sentence was tantamount to one of a slow but certain death. And the most trying part of it was that there seemed no possibility of affording any succour to the doomed men; no attempt to help or relieve them could be devised except such as must necessarily bring the party into immediate collision with Ralli and his myrmidons. The Greek had now entirely laid aside all pretence of treating his prisoners with any show of consideration. They had served his purpose; he had made them his tools as long as their assistance had been necessary to the advancement of his ambitious schemes; but now their help was no longer necessary to him, and he felt free to gratify, without stint, the malignant and vindictive feeling with which he had from the first regarded them. One or two of them, too, notably Lance and Captain Staunton, had on more than one occasion successfully opposed him in his efforts to have things entirely his own way; and that also must be amply atoned for. So he now amused himself at intervals in devising fresh indignities, in planning new hardships, to be heaped upon the unfortunate Galatea party. It was in this vindictive spirit that, on the second evening after Dickinson’s midnight visit, Ralli walked up to the cottage, and, unceremoniously opening the door, obtruded his unexpected and most unwelcome presence upon its inmates. As he made his appearance the conversation, which had been of a somewhat animated character, suddenly ceased. He noted this circumstance as he glanced suspiciously round the room, with his features twisted into the now too familiar malicious smile. Bowing with a sarcastic affectation of politeness, he remarked: “I am afraid my sudden appearance has interrupted a very interesting conversation. If so, I am vary sorray. But pray go on; do not allow my praisance to be any—what you call it—any—any—ah, yes, I have it—any restraint.” Then, suddenly changing his manner as his naturally suspicious nature asserted itself, he demanded: “What were you talking about? Tell me—you; I insist.” “We were talking about matters chiefly interesting to ourselves,” answered Bowles. “If ’t had been anything we wanted you to know, we’d have sent for you.” “Ha! my big strong friend, how you are funny to-night! You want to make a laugh at me, is it not? All right; wait till to-morrow; I then shall make a laugh at you. It is I that shall be funny then,” returned Ralli with the evil smile broadening on his face and his eyes beginning to sparkle with anger. “Well,” he continued, “since you will not so civil be as answer my polite question, I will tell you what I have come to say. It is this. You men are working—after a very lazy fashion it is the truth—for your living, and from now I intend that the women—oh? I beg the pardon, I should have said the ladies—shall work for theirs too. I am not any more going to allow laziness; you must all work, beginning to-morrow.” Here was an announcement which fairly took away the breath of the party. Ralli saw the consternation which his speech had produced, and laughed in hearty enjoyment of it. “I tell you what it is, my good sir,” said Rex, recovering his presence of mind. “You may say what you please as to the manner in which we work, but you know as well as I do that our services are ample payment for the food and lodging which we and the ladies get; and as to their working—why, it is simply preposterous; what can they do?” “What can they do?” repeated Ralli. “Ha, ha! I will tell you, my very dear sair, what they can do, and what they shall do. There are three of them and the shild. One shall do the cooking for the men; one shall clean out the sleeping-room, repair the men’s clothes, and make their hammocks; and one—the prettiest one—shall cook for me and keep my cabin in order, make and mend my clothes, and attend to me generally. As for the shild, she shall gather firewood and—ah! there she is. Come and kees me, you little girl.” May had, in fact, at that moment entered the room with a happy laugh; but catching sight of Ralli, the laugh was broken off short, and she sought shelter and safety by her mother’s side, from which she manifested a very decided disinclination to move at Ralli’s invitation. “Come here and kees me, little girl,” repeated the Greek, his anger rapidly rising as he saw how unmistakably the child shrank from him. “You must please excuse her,” said Mrs Staunton, with difficulty restraining the expression of her resentment; “the child has not been accustomed to kiss strangers.” “Come and kees me, little girl,” repeated Ralli for the third time, holding out his arms to May, and entirely ignoring Mrs Staunton’s remark. But his sardonic smile and his glittering eyes were the reverse of attractive to the child. Besides, she knew him. “No,” said she resolutely, “I will not kiss you. I don’t love you. You are the naughty wicked cruel man that locked up my dear papa and Mr Evelin, and won’t let them come home to me.” “Hush, May, darling!” began Mrs Staunton. But her warning came too late; the unlucky words had been spoken; and Ralli, smarting under a sense of humiliation from the scorn and loathing of him so freely displayed by this pretty child—scarcely more than a baby yet—sprang to his feet, and, seizing May roughly by the arm, dragged her with brutal force away from her mother’s side, and before anyone could interfere, drew out his colt and struck her savagely with it twice across her poor little lightly-clad shoulders. The little creature shrieked aloud with the cruel pain as she writhed in the ruffianly grasp of the pirate; yet the fiendish heart of her tormenter felt no mercy, his lust of cruelty was aroused, and the colt was raised a third time to strike. But the blow never fell Bob was the nearest to the pirate when he made his unexpected attack upon May, and though the occurrence was too sudden to admit of his interfering in time to prevent the first two blows, he was on hand by the time that the third was ready to fall. With a yell of rage more like that of a wild beast than of a man he sprang upon Ralli, dealing him with his clenched left hand so terrific a blow under the chin that the pirate’s lower jaw was shattered, and his tongue cut almost in two. Then, quick as a flash of light he released poor May from the villain’s grasp, wrenched the colt out of his hand, and, whilst the wretch still writhed in agony upon the ground where he had fallen under the force of Bob’s first fearful blow, thrashed him with it until the clothes were cut from his back, and his shoulders barred with a close network of livid and bloody weals. The miserable cowardly wretch screamed at first more piercingly even than poor May had done; but Bob commanded silence so imperatively and with such frightful threats that Ralli was fairly cowed into submitting to the rest of his fearful punishment in silence, save for such low moans as he was utterly unable to suppress. As may well be supposed, this startlingly sudden scene of violence was productive of the utmost confusion in the room where it originated. The ladies, hastily seizing poor little moaning May in their arms, beat a precipitate retreat, while the men sprang to their feet and tried—for some time in vain—to drag Bob away from his victim. But the lad was now a tall, stalwart, broad-shouldered fellow; his anger was thoroughly roused by the Greek’s cruel and cowardly conduct; and it was not until he had pretty well exhausted himself in the infliction of a well-deserved punishment that he suffered himself to be dragged away. And it was now too, in the desperate emergency with which our friends found themselves in a moment brought face to face, that Bob showed the sterling stuff of which he was made. Cutting short the horrified remonstrances of his friends he took the reins of affairs in his own hands, issuing his instructions as coolly as though he had been a leader all the days of his life. “The time has come,” said he. “Mr Bowles, get a piece of rope, lash that fellow hands and heels together, and gag him. The rest of you get our few traps together; tell the ladies to do the same; and let all muster down at the landing as quickly as possible. I’m off to warn Dickinson and the rest, and to release the captain and Mr Evelin. Ah! I may as well take these,” as his eye fell upon a brace of revolvers in Ralli’s belt. He withdrew the weapons, hastily examined them by the light of the lamp to ascertain whether they were loaded or no, found that they were; and then, repeating his injunctions as to rapidity of action, he slipped the pistols one into each pocket, opened the door, and disappeared in the darkness. Once fairly clear of the house, Bob paused for a minute or two to collect his thoughts. Then he walked on again toward the large building in which the men were housed, and on reaching it coolly thrust his head in at the open door, and looked round as though in search of someone. “Well, matey, what is it?” asked one of the pirates. “Is Dickinson here?” inquired Bob boldly. “I think he is,” was the reply. “Yes, there he is, over there. Here, Dickinson! you’re wanted.” “Ay, ay,” answered Dickinson. “Who wants me?” “I do,” answered Bob. “Mr Ralli says you’re to shift over at once.” This was simply a form of words which had been agreed on when Dickinson paid his midnight visit to the cottage, and meant that the moment for action had arrived, and that a muster was to be made at the landing-place. The sudden summons took Dickinson rather by surprise, though he had been schooling himself to expect it at any moment; he instantly recovered himself, however, and rising to his feet with a well-assumed air of reluctance asked: “Does he mean that we are to go now—to-night?” “He said ‘at once,’” answered Bob. “Oh! very well,” growled Dickinson, “I s’pose we must obey orders. Here you—Tom Poole, Sullivan, Masters”—and he glanced his eye round the room, apparently hesitating whom to choose, but gradually picking out, one after the other, all the men who had cast in their lot with our friends—“muster your kits and then go up to the capstan-house; you’ve got to turn-in aboard the battery to-night, my beauties.” The men named, taking their cue from Dickinson, and acting up to instructions already received, assumed a sulky unwilling demeanour as they set about the work of packing a small quantity of already carefully selected clothes in their bags, growling and grumbling at having to turn out just when they were thinking of tumbling into their hammocks, and so on, but using the utmost expedition all the same. In a little over ten minutes from the time of their first being called, the men, sixteen in number, stood in the large loft of the capstan-house. Poole had brought with him the key of the arm-chest, and, opening the case, he rapidly served out to every man a cutlass with its belt and a pair of six-chambered revolvers, every one of which he had himself fully loaded only the day before, in preparation for such an emergency as the present. The chest was then relocked and left, it being too heavy for them to carry away with them, to say nothing of the suspicion which such an act would excite if witnessed, as it would almost certainly be. But Poole slipped the key back into his pocket again, knowing that the strength of the chest and the solidity of the lock were such as to involve the expenditure of a considerable amount of time in the breaking open; and every minute of detention suffered by the pirates would now be almost worth a man’s life to the escaping party. “Now, lads,” said Dickinson, “are yer all ready? Then march; down to the beach we goes, and seizes the two whale-boats, eight of us to each boat. But mind! there’s to be no getting into the boats or shoving off until the ladies and gentlemen from the hut’s all here. Mayhap we shall have to make a fight of it on the beach yet; so keep dry land under your feet until you has orders contrariwise.” The men descended the ladder leading from the capstan-house loft, and ranging themselves in a small compact body, two abreast, marched down to the landing-place, being joined on their way by some half-dozen curious idlers who had turned out to see what was in the wind. Dickinson was most anxious to get rid of these unwelcome attendants, and did all he could think of to persuade them to return to the house; but though quite unsuspicious as yet, they were not to be persuaded; they preferred rather to march alongside the other party, keeping up a constant fire of such jests and witticisms as sailors are wont to indulge in. Bob, from a secluded and shadowy corner, watched this party as long as he could see them, and then began to look out for his own particular friends. He had not long to wait; barely five minutes afterwards he saw them also pass down on their way to the boats. He allowed these a sufficient time to reach the boats, and then set off at a brisk pace to the “Black Hole.” He soon reached it; and on his approach was promptly challenged by the two guards, who happened to be the same two truculent ruffians who were on guard when Dickinson tried to communicate with the prisoners. In reply to the challenge, Bob informed them that they were wanted by Ralli, immediately, at the cottage (that being the most distant building), and that he had orders to keep guard until their return. “What are we wanted for?” was the suspicious question. “Oh! I believe there’s some more people to be locked up here,” answered Bob nonchalantly. “All right!” answered the one who had asked the question. “Come on, Mike. And you—you young swab—mind you don’t let a soul come near here while we’re gone; if you do, Ralli’ll just skin yer. D’ye hear?” “All right!” answered Bob, placing his back against the door; “you go on; I won’t give Ralli a chance to skin me, never fear. He’s a good deal more likely to skin you if you don’t look sharp.” The two guards accordingly set out in the direction of the cottage; but they had not gone half a dozen steps before they returned, cursing and swearing most horribly. “Here, you young cub, what’s the pass-word? Damn me if I hadn’t forgotten that,” exclaimed one of them, making towards Bob with outstretched hand. “Stand back!” said Bob. “If you advance another step I’ll shoot you both like dogs.” “The pass-word; the pass-word,” demanded the ruffianly pair. “Give the pass-word at once, or by — I’ll split your skull with this cutlass.” Bob saw that he had not a moment to lose; that his life hung upon a thread; and that, moreover, if he allowed these fellows to overpower him, the whole scheme would probably fail; he therefore whipped out his pistols, and, taking rapid aim, pulled both triggers at the same instant. There was a single report; and one of the men staggered forward, shot through the body, whilst the other threw up his arms and fell back heavily to the ground with a bullet in his brain. Bob remembered for many a long day afterwards, and often saw in his dreams at night, the wild despairing glare in the eyes of the dying pirate as the flash of the pistol glanced upon the glazing eyeballs for an instant; but he had no time to think about such things now. Stooping down and applying his mouth to the keyhole he said, loud enough to be heard by those within: “Stand clear in there; I’m about to blow the lock to pieces. It is I—Robert. The time has come.” “Fire away, my lad!” was the reply. “You will not hurt us.” Bob applied the muzzles of both pistols to the lock, and pulled the triggers. Fortunately, the lock was not a particularly strong one; and a supplementary kick sent the door flying open. Captain Staunton and Lance at once emerged from their dark noisome prison and glanced eagerly around them. “Thank you, Robert,” hurriedly exclaimed the skipper. “There is no time to say more now, I know; so tell us what we are to do, my lad, and we’ll do it.” Bob pointed to the prostrate bodies of the two pirates and said: “Take their arms, and then we must make a rush to the landing; this firing is sure to have raised an alarm, but it could not be helped. But how is this! Where are your manacles!” “Slipped them off, my lad, the moment we heard your voice,” answered the skipper. “Price—fine fellow that he is—managed that for us by putting us in irons several sizes too large for us. Now, Evelin, are you ready! I fancy I hear footsteps running this way.” “All ready!” said Lance. “Then, off we go!” exclaimed Bob. “This way, gentlemen—sharp round to the right for a couple of hundred yards, and then straight for the landing. It will give us a better chance if the pirates suspect anything and place themselves to cut us off.” Away went the trio at racing-pace, Bob slightly taking the lead and striking sharply away to the right. It was well for them that they did so, as they were thus enabled to dodge a crowd of men who came excitedly running up from the landing on hearing the pistol-shots. The party from the cottage had safely reached the boats some few minutes before this; Dickinson having very cleverly got them through the crowd on the landing-place by calling out in an authoritative voice as soon as he saw them coming: “Now then, lads, make way there, make way for the prisoners to pass.” The men accordingly gave way, forming a lane in their midst through which our friends passed in fear and trembling, exposed for a minute or so to the coarsest ribaldry which the ruffianly band could summon to their lips on the spur of the moment. It was not until they had all been passed safely into the two whale-boats, and Dickinson’s little band had drawn themselves closely up with drawn cutlasses in a compact line between the boats and the shore, that the suspicions of the pirates became in the least aroused. Then there gradually arose an eager whispering among them; suspicious glances were turned first upon Dickinson’s party and then toward the buildings; and upon the noise of shots being heard they all set out at a run in the direction of the sound, fully persuaded that affairs had somehow fallen out of joint with them, and that it was quite time for them to be stirring. They had run about half the distance between the boats and the capstan-house when someone caught a glimpse of three flying figures indistinctly made out through the gloom. The alarm was instantly given, and in another moment the entire crowd had turned sharply off in pursuit. It now became a neck-and-neck race between the two parties as to which should reach the boats first. The pirates were poor runners, not being much accustomed to that kind of exercise; but so unfortunately were two out of the three fugitives of whom they were in chase. Bob was fleet as a deer for a short distance, but he was far too loyal to leave his two friends; and they, poor fellows, weak and cramped as they were with their recent confinement, already began to feel their limbs dragging heavy as lead over the ground. The pirates gained upon them rapidly. Presently one of the pursuers was so near that they could hear him panting heavily behind. “You keep steadily on,” murmured Bob, as he pushed in for a moment between his two companions; “I’ll stop this fellow.” Then, allowing the skipper to pass ahead of him, he sprang suddenly aside, and, grasping one of his pistols by the barrel, brought down the butt of the weapon heavily upon the pirate’s head as he rushed past. The fellow staggered a pace or two further and then fell heavily to the ground, where he lay face downwards and partially stunned until his comrades came to his assistance. As, fortunately, they all stopped and gathered round the man, raising him to his feet and eagerly questioning him, the diversion thus created gave the three fugitives time to reach the boats without further molestation. Here they were, of course, received with open arms; but before their greetings were half exchanged the armed guard had turned to the boats, and, exerting their whole strength, shot them out upon the glassy waters of the bay, springing in themselves at the same moment and taking to their oars without an instant’s delay. As soon as the boats’ heads were turned round and fairly pointed away from the shore and toward the shipyard, Dickinson, taking off his hat in salutation to Captain Staunton, said in a loud voice so that all in the boats could hear: “Now, sir, we’re fairly launched upon this here henterprise at last, and may luck go with us! We’ve all had to manage as best we could for the last few days—since you was locked up, you know, sir; but now as you’re free again we wants you to understand as we all looks upon you as our lawful leader and cap’n, and that from henceforth all you’ve got to do is to give your orders, and we’ll obey ’em.” <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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