The Fatal Cord, and The Falcon Rover

“It is not the wind that is in our way,” answered Captain Vance to Mr Seacome, “so much as the waves; and seas will run higher and higher while this gale continues. Our best chance is now. Mr Bowsprit,” he exclaimed, turning to that officer, “have you reloaded your gun?”

“Ay, ay, sir,” was the answer.

“Then fire into them,” said the captain, “and do them all the damage you can.”

The Long Tom again pealed a savage note. But the only damage done to the Duchess was a small hole made through one of her sails.

The shot was immediately returned; it was fired by Captain Johnson’s own hand. The ball passed through the guards and swept across the deck of the Falcon, killing one man, and wounding two more by the splinters which it tore from the timbers through which it had forced its way. The loud peal of the cannon had not died away, when another shot from the Duchess came almost upon its track, again killing one and wounding two more.

“This will never do, Mr Bowsprit,” said Captain Vance. “Is your gun loaded again?”

“Yes, sir,” was the reply.

“Let me manage her this time,” said the captain.

His shot was well aimed; it struck the guards of the Duchess, scattering the splinters far and wide.

“I’ll guarantee that did them some damage,” remarked Captain Vance.

Scarcely had he spoken, when two cannon-shots came in quick succession from the Duchess. The one struck the deck of the Falcon, tearing up the splinters; the other again struck the guards, scattering fragments of timber. One sailor was killed directly beside Captain Vance; three others were slightly wounded.

“Furies!” exclaimed the pirate chief, “that fellow knows his business. But this will never do. Give them a volley of musketry.”

The loud roar of the Long Tom, and the rattling peal of the muskets immediately blended into one tremendous sound. That sound was instantly echoed from on board the ship; two cannon-shots and a dozen musket-loads again poured devastation upon the deck of the brig.

“We must come to close quarters,” exclaimed the pirate chief; “we are fast losing the advantage of superior numbers. The terrible skill of that devil with his cannon is destroying our superiority in that respect. Give me a loaded musket.”

He waited until a partial lifting of the smoke-cloud gave him a glimpse of the stout, manly figure of Captain Johnson, then, in an instant, taking aim, he fired. The ceaseless motion of the vessels destroyed the effect of his aim; and the man who was fired at escaped unharmed.

“Pistols and cutlasses!” exclaimed Vance, much excited. “Prepare to board. Forward with your men, Captain Coe. Helmsman, put us alongside of that vessel at once.”

“That’s the way to talk,” said Afton. “We’ll give the whelps no mercy now.”

“We may sink both vessels by collision,” said Seacome, “in such a sea as this.”

“Then let them sink,” cried the pirate chief, all of whose evil passions were now aroused. “Lay us aboard quickly, helmsman.”

The helmsman did his work skilfully; the starboard-bow of the brig was brought to bear gradually towards the larboard bow of the ship; and the two vessels approached each other in such a manner that their sides when they touched formed, at the point of contact, a very acute angle. The guards of the ship were above those of the brig; yet grappling-irons were cast from the latter and the vessels were made fast together. But the independent rolling and pitching of each of them, which caused them sometimes to “yaw” asunder, sometimes to come together with a crash that sounded like thunder, made the passage from one to the other very dangerous.

Story 2-Chapter XI.

The Boarding Attack

Together they came with a crashing and rending,

While the sounds of the battle and tempest were blending.

The Lost Ship.

We will be true to you, most noble sir.

Avator.

Oh, spare my daughter! Take my wealth – I care not;

But spare my daughter.

Old Play.

Villain, forbear!

Throw down your arms – surrender.

The Assault.

The last fire from the Falcon had made sad havoc among the crew of the merchant vessel; two men were killed and three badly wounded by it. Hence it was that, when the pirates were thronging the brig’s side, preparing to spring on board the ship, Captain Johnson had but nine men to aid him in resisting the assault, the tenth being at the wheel. The odds were fearfully against him, being more than three to one; the pirate chief, leaving ten men to take care of the brig, had still thirty-one men, besides those who had been placed hors de combat, with whom to board the ship.

While John Coe was standing by the starboard guards of the brig, prepared to spring on board of the ship, with every nerve wrought up to its highest tension, he ejaculated prayers to the Almighty to guard him from sin and guide him to goodness in this terrible crisis of his fate. Just as the vessels were coming together, he felt his arm touched, and turning, saw Ada by his side.

“For heaven’s sake, madam,” he said, in low but earnest tones, “what are you doing here? Do go into the cabin and seek out its safest corner. You are almost certain to lose your life here. This is no place for a helpless woman.”

“How can I stay there,” she said, “while these horrible scenes are taking place? I am inured to danger, and put no value on my life. Besides, I feel impelled by a power within me, and which I cannot resist, to take part in the scenes about to occur on board of that ship. I put myself by your side, both because my husband would drive me away from his, and because, of all who are about to board that vessel, you alone have no evil in your heart, but are seeking to prevent it; and I wish to aid you in that good work. See! I also am armed.”

She showed a cutlass in her hand, and pointed to two double-barrelled pistols in a belt round her waist.

“Keep closely by my side, then,” said John, seeing her determination. “I will do all that I can to protect you.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

John turned towards his other side; there, near to him, stood Billy Bowsprit.

“Bowsprit,” he said, in a low voice, “keep near to me; and do not forget your pledge to give all the aid in your power to prevent, to such extent as we can, the shedding of innocent blood.”

“Mr Coe,” answered Billy, earnestly and emphatically, yet in a whisper, “I am with you, heart and hand, I am yours in life and death.”

“And see, too,” said Coe, in the same low tones, “that the five men of my band, who are with us, keep near to us, and that you and they follow me wherever I go.”

“They are here, sir,” whispered Billy, “just behind you and me. Every man of them can be relied on; they are all devoted to you.”

“And you and they,” replied John, still in the same undertones, “may depend upon my fulfilling my promise, should I escape with life and freedom from the perils of this night.”

Thus the thirty men of the Falcon’s crew detailed for the boarding-party, stood by the guards of the brig upon that side of her towards the ship, waiting for the moment when the upheaving and subsidence of the waters should uplift the former and depress the latter, that they might seize the opportunity to leap down upon the deck of the Duchess.

Captain Johnson was also waiting for the same moment. He had stationed eight men each with a cutlass in his right hand and a pistol in his left, in a position to meet the pirates should they gain his deck. He had so carefully balanced and trained his two guns that, when they should be fired, the balls would come together at a short distance from the muzzles of the cannon. By one of these guns stood Captain Johnson himself, by the other one of his mates, upon whose coolness he could thoroughly depend. Each of these two resolute men held a lighted match in his hand.

By this time the sun had been half an hour below the horizon, and the short twilight of that southern latitude was fast darkening into a night of storm and of unusual gloom; for although there was one clear spot in the western sky, all the rest of the face of heaven was veiled in heavy clouds.

In his anxiety to gain as soon as possible the deck of the ship, Captain Vance had not noted all the dispositions made on board the Duchess; his attention had been given mainly to the ordering of his own men, and to the eight men arranged for the reception of his assaulting party.

The critical moment, upon the results of which so much of vital importance to the combatants depended, arrived. The brig rose high upon the summit of a huge billow, while the merchant ship descended into the valley between that and another monster wave. At that instant the pirates sprung towards the deck of the Duchess, the eight men of the latter, who had been placed to meet this assault, fired their pistols, and Captain Johnson and his mate applied the matches to the cannon.

Three of the pirates fell upon the ship’s deck, two killed and one mortally wounded by the pistol-shots of their enemies; five made the leap too late, of whom two were crushed between the vessels, and fell into the sea, and three struck against the guards of the now rising ship, and were thrown back with violence upon their own deck. Captain Vance himself received a pistol-shot through the brain at the moment when he was about to spring from the guards of the Falcon to the deck of the Duchess; he disappeared between the two vessels and sunk into the sea.

John Coe – to avoid confronting the eight defenders of the ship – had taken his station with Ada, Billy Bowsprit, and the rest of the small party devoted to him, on the extreme left of the boarding-line of pirates. The next officer on his right was Lieutenant Afton, who was separated from him, however, by several men. At the extreme right of the whole line had been Captain Vance; Lieutenant Seacome being left in charge of the brig.

Thus, when young Coe, holding Ada by the hand, alighted on the deck of the Duchess, he found the second-lieutenant of the Falcon– with a party of five men under his immediate command – between himself and the defenders of the ship. He saw the wretch Afton, ever intent upon spoil – after making, with all the assaulting party to his right, a rush against the ship’s crew, which forced the latter to give back a space – detach himself with four men from the rest of the pirates, and, crossing the deck, hurry along the starboard side of the ship towards the entrance to the cabin.

It had been the first intention of Coe to throw himself, with his small force, between the contending parties, and to insist upon the pirates retiring to the brig; or, in case of their refusal to do so, to take sides against them in the fight. But, seeing that the odds against the ship’s crew was now not so great, Captain Johnson and his mate having joined them, he determined, with his followers, to pursue Afton, and to prevent such mischief as he might be bent upon.

Captain Johnson, when he saw so many of the pirate crew hastening towards the cabin, was also anxious to follow them; but he was too hard pressed by his enemies to allow him to do so. He hoped, moreover, that the tenants of the cabin had had the forethought to barricade the door, in which case the pirates might be prevented from breaking in upon Mr Durocher and his family until he could overpower the force immediately before him, and then, turning upon those who had gone towards the cabin, might thus be able to overcome his enemies in detail.

The door of the cabin had been barricaded by Mr Durocher, as well as he could do so, with the aid of his daughter and the quadroon girl, but the fastenings scarcely withstood for one moment the violent assault of Afton and his men.

They passed in without further opposition – the illness of Mr Durocher preventing him from offering even a moment’s resistance. An instant of silence ensued, and then, above the noise of conflict without arose the cries of distress from the cabin – the shrieks of women! That was the cry most agonising to young Coe.

“Here, my brave fellows!” he shouted, “follow me, and remember your own mothers and sisters at home!”

He dashed off down the deck, past the assailants and assailed still struggling there, and, followed by Ada and his men, sprung into the cabin to confront Afton and his men in their fiendish scheme. Afton, having penetrated to the state-rooms, had seized Miss Durocher, and was trying to drag her forth, preparatory to removing her to the brig. “Unhand that lady, villain!” shouted Coe. “Villain yourself?” roared Afton. “Who made you my master, I should like to know?”

Afton was a strong man, but young Coe was both stronger and more active, and when he was aroused and inflamed by a righteous anger the pirate was but a child in his hands. He said not another word, but releasing the lady from the grasp of the ruffian by a sudden and dexterous exertion, he seized the pirate with both hands and swung him with tremendous force through the state-room doorway into the saloon. So violently did the latter strike the floor, that he lay at once without sense or motion.

One of Afton’s men, drawing a pistol, had pointed it at the head of the infuriated rescuer; but ere he could pull the trigger, Ada, who already had a pistol in her hand, fired, and broke his right arm, which fell powerless to his side. He stooped to pick up the weapon which he had dropped with the hand of his uninjured arm, but Ada drew another pistol from her belt and presented it at his head.

“If you attempt to take up that weapon again, Joe,” she said, with firmness of purpose expressed in her tones, “you are a dead man.”

The man yielded at once, and stood motionless and silent before the pistol which she continued to hold with the muzzle towards him.

At the same time when these scenes were occurring in the state-room, others were taking place in the saloon.

“Unhand that gentleman,” said Bowsprit, to two men who held the sick Mr Durocher prisoner.

“We are acting under the orders of the second-lieutenant,” replied one of the men.

“Point your pistols at those men,” said Bowsprit, addressing those under his command, himself presenting at them a weapon in each hand.

His orders were at once obeyed.

“We have pistols, too,” gruffly said one of the men who held Mr Durocher.

“Now,” said Billy, “release your prisoner at once, or I’ll warrant you’ll never disobey orders again.”

At this moment the body of Afton came rushing head-foremost out of the state-room.

Seeing the condition of their officer, the two men unhanded Mr Durocher, and sullenly threw their weapons upon the floor.

The fourth of the men who had accompanied Afton, and who had stood at the state-room door through all these scenes, apparently stupefied by surprise, quietly handed his pistols and cutlass to Bowsprit.

Story 2-Chapter XII.

The Fate of the Falcon

Sir, I thank you —

My heart is full of thanks to you.

The Dream.

John. Surrender, sirs.

Isaac. Never; we die first.

Old Play.

Full many a fathom deep they rushed

Down – down the dark abyss.

Ballad.

Mr Durocher, with the vivacity and warm-heartedness of a Frenchman, embraced young Coe, calling him his preserver, and overwhelming him with thanks.

“Thank only God, my dear sir,” replied the deliverer. “I am not doing even all my duty. How many lives may be lost on deck while I am delaying here! Mr Bowsprit,” he continued, addressing that individual, “bind the hands of your prisoners at once, and then come, with your men, upon deck with me.”

Through the open door of the state-room he could see Ada, still pointing her pistol at Joe, whose right arm hung loosely at his side.

“Madam,” asked John, “is that man’s arm broken?”

“Yes,” she answered; “I broke it with a pistol-shot; but I understand a little of surgery, and can easily set it if I can get a few splinters of wood.”

Mr Durocher had hastened to his daughter and was holding her in his embrace, when hearing the word madam addressed to a person in male attire, he said —

“From this gentleman calling you madam, I suppose that you are a woman, and understand those sudden sicknesses caused by excited feelings, and peculiar to women?”

“I am a woman,” answered Ada, blushing; “and I understand you. I see that your daughter has fainted. I will attend to her. Have you any salts?” she continued, addressing Celeste.

The poor quadroon girl was herself near to the point of swooning; but aroused herself when thus addressed, and hastened to bring the restoratives asked for. While she was searching for these among the vials and bottles of the medicine-case, Mr Durocher laid his daughter upon the bed. He then turned to Ada, and said —

“You need not trouble yourself with that man any more. Let him come into my state-room adjoining this, and lie upon my bed. I understand something of surgery myself; I also have the materials for making splinters, and will dress his wound.”

Meantime, in the saloon, the hands of the prisoners were bound, even those of Afton. Leaving one of his men to guard the prisoners, Coe and the rest hastened upon deck. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed since he had left the deck – so many incidents may occur in a brief period of time, when the struggle is one of life and death.

The man who had been placed at the helm by Captain Johnson still kept his post. Through all the excitement and confusion, through the uproar and perils of the storm and the battle, that sturdy and brave seaman had, with unflinching patience and fidelity, and by a skilful management of the helm, watched for and warded off the effect of every huge wave which had threatened the safety of this ship. When the two vessels had come together, he had, by good guidance, broken to a great extent the force of the collision. When he had seen his comrades pressed by vastly superior numbers, and knew that his own safety depended on their successful defence – when he had seen the pirates hurry into the cabin where were only the sickly old man and the two helpless females – he had firmly maintained his post, steadily and faithfully performing the duties which had been assigned to him. He knew that upon him depended the safety of all on board; that the slightest neglect on his part, the slightest failure of hand or eye, might allow the ship to broach to and be swamped in the tremendous seas which were now running.

Fidelity to duty, in instances of this kind, exhibits the purest type of heroism of character. And such instances are very common in ordinary life, among all classes, and especially among the humblest. There is seldom any genuine heroism in mere fighting; when man’s passions are stirred – whether by feelings right or wrong – and his animal nature thoroughly roused, fighting is an absolute enjoyment to him; and in battle there is the additional incentive of glory to urge him to acts of valour. But, too often, in the apparent stillness of quiet life, there are duties which are discharged amid ceaseless temptations to neglect them. These nobody notes as worthy of especial honour; because they occur every day, every hour. Many persons cross the Atlantic to see Niagara, and they talk of its grandeur and sublimity – and justly do they do so; yet who speaks of, or even notes the fact, which all must acknowledge, that the sky, which by day and by night bends over the head of every man, woman, and child in every part of the world, is a thousand times grander and more sublime than even the wonderful cataract? A blessed truth it is to the humble disciples of humble duty, that, though no earthly being observes them with praise, God sees them.

There was yet a faint glimmer of daylight when John Coe came upon the deck of the ship. In that dim light the fight was still going on. It had commenced with twelve men from the Falcon on the one side, and ten men belonging to the Duchess on the other. So nearly were the individuals of the contending parties balanced in personal strength and prowess, that the success of the pirates had been very nearly in exact proportion to their superiority of number. The loss was of two men upon each side, and the defenders of the ship had been driven back to a position very near to the quarter-deck; but of the pirates one was wounded and one was killed, while of the defenders two only were wounded. Both of the parties were fighting with cutlasses only; the pistols had all been fired in the beginning of the engagement, and there had since been no opportunity of reloading them.

Coe, with his small force, threw himself between the contending ranks, flashing his cutlass right and left, and striking upwards the clashing weapons.

“Hold your hands,” he cried, in a loud voice. “My party is a small one; but we are enough to settle this contest at once in favour of the side into whose support we may throw ourselves.”

The pirates at once dropped their points and fell back; they, of course, felt convinced that a reinforcement had come to their help. Captain Johnson and his men, however, naturally looking upon the new comers as enemies, and supposing that Coe’s mode of dealing with existing affairs was a ruse to take them at disadvantage, were not disposed to cease fighting so readily. Still, Captain Johnson reflected that it would be well to hear what proposition was to be made. He, therefore, dropped his point and retired a step or two, and ordered his men to cease fighting and to fall back. His command was immediately obeyed.

“Mr Brown,” said Coe, addressing Bowsprit, as soon as he saw that the fighting was suspended, “you and your men are supplied with two pistols apiece, I believe?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Billy.

“Are they all loaded?” asked Coe.

“All loaded,” was the echoed answer.

“Then draw, each of you, one in each hand,” said our hero, “and have each pistol ready for instant use. But keep your cutlasses suspended by the cord from the right wrist.”

Coe’s order was instantly obeyed; and he himself at the moment prepared his weapons as he had commanded the others to prepare theirs.

“Gentlemen pirates,” he said, sarcastically, addressing those of the boarding-party who had been engaged in the fight, “you will remember that when I accepted the high and distinguished office of captain of marines on board of the brig Falcon, the free rover, I did so provisionally, and on the express condition that I retained the right of resigning whenever I should think proper to do so. I exercise that reserved right now. I resign the honourable post so flatteringly offered to me; and I am, therefore, no longer a member of the gallant band composing the crew of the brig Falcon.”

“What’s the meaning of all this fine talk?” asked a gruff-looking pirate. “What have we got to do with your affairs at this time?”

“It means that I never have been, and never have intended to be, a pirate,” answered the captain; “I had rather die a thousand deaths than be one of your kind. I was taken prisoner by deceit, and was then entirely in your power; yet, even in such circumstances, my first impulse was to defy your whole band and thus to bring on my own death rather than to seem to become a member of your ship’s company. I was induced to act as I have done, partly by the advice of a friend whom circumstances had forced to remain among you, but mainly by the conviction that the Ruler of Events would not have allowed me to be taken prisoner by you merely for the purpose of permitting my death. I hoped not only that I might thus be able to make my escape, but that I might prevent some of the evil which you are accustomed to do in your vocation, and might also find amongst your number some whom I could induce to become again honest men. I see a good prospect of success in all these objects.”

“What’s the use of all this argufying?” said the sailor who had before spoken, and who was boatswain of the Falcon. “Tell us what do you mean? What are you going to do?”

“What I mean is this,” answered Coe. “Lay down your arms at once and surrender. You have no chance of defending yourselves successfully against such odds as will now be opposed to you.”

“You don’t mean to say,” said the boatswain, “that Leftenant Bowsprit and them others there have turned agin us?”

“We are all,” answered Bowsprit, “pledged to stand by Mr Coe for life or death.”