Chapter 47. Fireworks

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_ CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. FIREWORKS

The boat was well run up out of reach and sight of the enemy, a spot being selected where by a little manoeuvring beneath the shade of an overhanging tree a few boughs could be pressed aside and a watch kept upon the movements of those on board the schooners, in case of their boats coming in pursuit, or, what was quite probable, one or other of the vessels heaving anchor and coming up with the tide.

But the time wore on without any sign being made, and as far as could be made out through the glass, the Spaniards seemed to be quite content with beating off the attack, and from their movements they had apparently come to the conclusion that they had seen the last of the occupants of the boat.

But they did not know the temper of those on board, nor that a quiet little council of war had been going on, till, feeling the necessity for the men being properly prepared ready for any fresh attempt, the doctor suggested that a substantial meal should be made; and this was partaken of with a far better appetite than could have been expected. More than one plan had been suggested regarding the next proceedings. One was that they should steal down the river under cover of the darkness and go in search of their friends; another, that an attempt should be made, when the tide was flowing most swiftly, to cut the cables, in the hope that the vessels might drift ashore; but Joe Cross disposed of this directly as not likely to be of any permanent advantage, and declared that there was only one thing to be done, and that was, to follow up with another bold attempt to board.

"You see, gentlemen," he said, "we never had a chance to get within touch of the Spanish mongrels. I don't want to brag, but with a fair start there aren't one of our chaps here as wouldn't take a good grip of his cutlass and go for any three of them; eh, messmates?"

"In an or'nary way, Joe," said Harry Briggs.

"Well, this is an or'nary way, messmate."

"Nay; I call this a 'stror'nary one."

"Well, speak out, messmate, and say what you mean."

"Well, same as you do, Joe, only I put it a little different. Win or lose, I'd go in for tackling three of them in an or'nary way, but I says this is a 'stror'nary one, and you may put me down for six, and if I get the worst of it, well, that'll be a bit of bad luck. But anyhow I'd try."

"And so say all of us," came from the rest.

"Well," said Joe, laughing, "I never knew afore that I was the most modest chap in our crew."

"Oh, I have no doubt about your courage, my lads," said the doctor, "nor that my nephew here, though he is a boy, will fight like a man; but if we are to do any good we must work with method against such great odds. So now, Cross, let us hear what you propose to do."

"Try again, sir--in the dark--and play a bit artful."

"But how?" cried Rodd eagerly.

"Well, I'll tell you, Mr Rodd. I proposes that we just show ourselves once or twice towards evening, and then make a dash right across the river to hide again among the trees. That'll set 'em all thinking and asking one another what our game's going to be. Then we will lie up till it's dark, up with the grapnel, and steal quietly down the river, keeping pretty close to the trees, till we are about opposite the enemy, and then we'll make a mistake."

"Make a mistake?" said Rodd. "I don't understand you."

"Well, sir, I aren't done yet. What I mean is, have an accident like; one of us sneeze, or burst out a-coughing, and me break out into a regular passion, calling him as coughed a stoopid lubber and a fool for showing the enemy where we are. It will be best for me to be him as coughs or sneezes, and do it all myself so as not to have any muddle over it. Then I shouts out, 'Pull for your lives, boys--pull!' And we makes no end of splashing as we goes on down the river, and all the time as supposing that it's going to be dark enough so as they can't fire at us. Then it seems to me, Dr Robson, sir, that the enemy will say to theirselves, 'They want to get out to sea, and they are gone,' while as soon as we have got a bit lower down we'll lie up under the trees and wait till about an hour before daylight, and all as quiet and snug as so many rats. They'll think they have got rid of us, and all the while we shall be waiting our time to steal up again right by 'em and begin to come down once more from where they don't expect; and then--board."

"Hah!" cried Rodd. "Capital!"

"You see, gentlemen, it'll all have to be done as quiet as quiet, for they're sure to have a watch set. I know what out-and-outers they are to sleep, but it's too much to expect that they will have both eyes shut at a time like this. One way or t'other we shall have the tide with us, but even if we don't I think it might be managed, and anyhow we shall have no big guns at work upon us, and watch or no watch we'll manage to lay this 'ere boat alongside of our schooner, and if any one says anything again' our getting aboard, I should like to know why, and if we do get aboard I don't think it's in the schooner's new crew to drive us back again into the boat. There, gentlemen, that's all I know, and if some one else--the doctor here, or Mr Rodd, or Mr Morny, who is a French naval officer--can give us a better way, I'll follow anywhere, and I know the lads will come after me like men."

There was silence for about a minute, and then the doctor coughed, drawing all eyes upon him.

"There is no better way," he said. "It's a splendid plan."

A murmur of assent arose, and Joe Cross looked quite modest.

"But it will be some time yet before we can make our attempt," said the doctor; "and how are we to pass the weary time till then?"

"Oh," said Joe cheerily, "we can watch these 'ere great smiling efts till then. They seem to be sailing about and watching us as if they'd got some sort of an idea that they were to have us to eat by and by, which I don't mean that they shall. And then there'll be making the false starts. I think, sir, as we'll make one or two, as if we was half afraid to make a dash for it, and that'll draw their fire."

"But suppose they hit us, Joe," cried Rodd.

"Oh, we must chance that, sir. They can't hit us. They couldn't hit a hay-stack in a ten-acre field; let alone a boat being pulled hard across stream. That'll be all right."

And so it proved when Joe Cross put his tactics into force, making the men row out into the river, and then ordering them to lie on their oars, while Rodd watched the schooner's decks and announced that some of the men were busy about the guns and all crowding to the bulwarks to watch the proceedings of the boat.

Then a feint was made in one direction, then in another, and at last Joe stood up in the stern, to begin gesticulating to the men, as if bullying them into making a bold dash to row swiftly down as near the farther shore as they could go.

A minute later two puffs of smoke from different vessels shot out into the clear evening air, the balls ricochetting from the water in each case a few yards away. Then, with the men pulling as hard as ever they could, the boat's head was swung round, and rowing diagonally across the stream they made for the shelter of the shore from which they had come, the sail was hoisted, filled, and away they went till they were right round the bend and the anchored schooners were out of sight.

"There, Mr Rodd, sir, what did I tell you?" cried Joe triumphantly. "I knew they couldn't hit us. Chaps like them ought never to be allowed to handle a gun."

"Well, my man," said the doctor, "if the rest of your plan will only succeed like this we shall achieve a victory."

"Nay, nay, sir; only a little boat action. There, my lads, now we'll have a rest. They're sure to think we have gone right up the river."

"But they may send boats to follow us," suggested Rodd.

"Certainly, sir, they may; but I don't think they will. They won't come to close quarters so long as they have got bulwarks to fight from behind and the guns to tackle us when we show. They think that we can't face the pieces. Well, I don't say as we are very ready to when there's another way round, but we haven't got long to wait before we must make another move, for the sun's down behind the trees, and I shouldn't be sorry if it was to come on a fog."

But no fog came, only darkness the blackest of the black, and the few stars that peered out only looking strangely dim.

The wind had fallen soon after the sail had been lowered and the mast laid well out of their way. One of the balls of spun yarn they had in the locker had been brought into use, cut into lengths, and the oars secured so that they could not slip away when they were left to swing, and at last under cover of the night the next part of Joe's programme was begun.

It was harder work than had been anticipated, for though the current close in shore was slack, it was very difficult to keep at a respectable distance from the bank as they glided down-stream, while every now and then there was a swirl in the water suggesting that one of the great reptiles had been disturbed.

But still the adventurers progressed, and their leader was keenly on the alert, looking out for the lights of the anchored vessels, ready to raise his false alarm as soon as he got abreast.

But he looked in vain; the Spaniards had taken the precaution to cover their riding lights, and Joe Cross was about to draw his bow at a venture, when a sharp shock which made the boat thrill suggested that they had struck upon a floating tree trunk, washed probably out of the bank during the past flood.

But the next moment they were aware that the boat's stem had come in contact with one of the crocodiles, which gave a tremendous plunge and began to send the water flying in all directions as it beat heavily upon the surface with its tail.

"Starn all!" roared Joe Cross involuntarily, and then recollecting himself, he roared out, "Pull, lads! Pull for your lives!" For a light suddenly appeared some thirty or forty yards to their left, followed by another lower down the river.

There was the buzz of voices upon the anchored vessels' decks, and Joe kept on yelling wildly to the men to pull, the noise and excitement being increased by the reports of muskets fired at them in a hurried ungoverned way, the flashes of light giving them faint instantaneous glimpses of the vessels and the faces of the men on board.

"Steady, my lads, steady! Ease off," said Joe, "gently. We have got to come back again, you know, so we needn't go too far. Two or three cables' lengths is plenty. How do you think we're getting on, sir?"

"Is it possible they may come in pursuit?" whispered the doctor.

"Nay, sir, I don't think it's likely. If it was us aboard those schooners we should think that we--meaning us--there, sir--you know what I mean--we should think t'other side was making for the sea. Well, that's what they think, and now, sir, if they'll only show their lights for the rest of the night, why, so much the better for we."

"I don't see why, Joe," said Rodd, after a few minutes' thought.

"Well, I'll tell you, my lad," whispered Joe.--"Steady there--steady! I am going to lower down the grapnel, for I dursen't run in among the trees. They'd crackle too much if we tried to moor to a branch, and we don't want to capsize. Harry Briggs, look alive, and drop the flukes overboard; make fast, and let us swing."

This was all done almost without a sound, and just then a faint gleam of light as the boat swung round showed them that certainly one of the anchored vessels was still showing her light, while as it swung round a little farther there were a couple more gleams higher up, as of distant stars.

"That's all right, gentlemen. Now, Mr Rodd, sir, I haven't answered your question. Here's just enough breeze blowing to make me alter my plans, so after a bit we'll step the mast again and have the sail ready for hoisting, for we shall be able, with the lights to guide us, to sail close up under the farther shore and come down again from just the way they don't expect, run the boat alongside our schooner, and then one on us will hold on by the boat-hook, while with the rest it's all aboard, and the schooner's ours."

That night seemed to Rodd almost as long, at times longer than the one he had passed in the tree. But here it certainly was shorter, as he afterwards declared, for about a couple of hours before daylight Joe whispered his belief that they had none of them heard the slightest sound from the direction of the lights, that if any one on board the schooner's deck would be sleeping it would be then, and that they must start at once.

There was no question of all being ready, and at the whispered orders Harry Briggs hauled softly upon the grapnel line, while very slowly and silently the yard ran up the little mast, and the boat began to careen over as the sail filled.

Then with Joe Cross at the tiller she began to glide up-stream, the grapnel was lifted on board without a sound, and silently and steadily they began to cross the river diagonally till they were as near as the steersman dared lay the little craft to the farther shore.

Under his skilful management all went well, and so silently that nothing but the faint pattering lap of the water against the bows could be heard.

To the two lads, though, that sounded unusually loud, as they crouched down involuntarily but quite unnecessarily lower and lower in the boat lest they should be seen, the light hoisted in each schooner seeming bound to show the white sail to the watch of each vessel in turn.

But no alarm was raised; not a sound reached the adventurers, and to Rodd it seemed as if, after terrible periods of agony, three heavy loads had been lifted from his breast. He wanted to whisper a few words to Morny, who all through had been seated by his side, but nothing but the pressure of hand upon arm passed between them, while they could hardly hear the doctor breathe.

At last, though, that period of the terrible suspense was at an end, and the third light they had passed, that of the Maid of Salcombe, was beginning to grow fainter, and being left behind.

"Now, what next?" thought Rodd. "How much longer shall we have to wait before the attack is made?"

The answer came very shortly after, for Joe Cross bore lightly upon the tiller, sent the boat gliding round in a wide circle which ended by bringing the three mooring lights they had left behind all in a line, and then as they began to glide down-stream he whispered--

"It's now or never, sir.--Cutlashes, my lads; in five minutes we shall be alongside. You, Harry Briggs, shy the grapnel on deck and make fast; we shall soon be all aboard. Then come and help us all you can."

There was a low deep breath like a thrill passing through the boat, a peculiar sound of movement which Rodd knew was the men drawing their cutlasses, and then as his heart went heavily thump, thump, thump within his breast, he felt that two hands were seeking for his, and as he raised it towards the right it was grasped firmly a moment by Uncle Paul's, and the next moment, as it was released, by that of Morny.

It was short work, for the boat was gliding steadily down, and directly after the lad felt Joe Cross bending over him.

"She's just right, sir," he whispered. "Ketch hold of the tiller, and keep her as she is. I must go for'ard now to lead."

The boat swayed a little as the man stepped between his mates to the front. Then as soon as the distance was considered right a light rattling sound was heard, and Rodd was conscious of the sail being lowered, though he could see nothing of it, while almost the next minute there was a faint shock as the boat glided against the side of the schooner.

Then Joe Cross's cry, "All aboard!" rang out, followed by a stentorian cheer, and amidst the rush and hurry the tiller slipped from the boy's hand and he was climbing over the thwarts to spring into the fore-chains. Then he tottered as if about to fall back into the boat, but a big hand grasped him by the shoulder, steadied him for a moment, and then he was with the little party dashing side by side into what seemed to be a chaos of savage yells and shrieks which rose in wild confusion from the gang of Spaniards who had sprung up from their sleep, where they lay scattered about the deck.

English shouts to come on, Spanish yells, wild mongrel cries, a shriek or two of despair, a heavy plunge followed by another and another, savage blows, and utterances such as fierce men make in the wild culmination of their rage; then plunge after plunge in the water alongside and astern, the splash of swimmers, strange lashings about in the river, followed by shrieks and gurgling cries, and then, heard over all, the combined voices of so many stout Englishmen in a fierce--

"_Hurrah_!"

"Now then, all of you," shouted Joe Cross. "There's a lot of them down below. Close that cabin hatch. Two on you to the fo'c'sle; serve that the same. If you run against anybody in the dark, tell the beggar he'll be safer overboard than here."

But there proved to be no one below in the men's quarters, and after making quite sure the two men returned to their comrades. Then--

"Where's Mr Rodd?" shouted Joe.

"Here, Joe," came out of the darkness.

"Mr Morny?"

"I'm here," came in a breathless voice.

"And the doctor?"

"Helpless, Joe. My ankle's sprained."

"Bad luck to it," cried the man. "Where's Harry Briggs?"

"All right, mate," came in a gruff surly voice; "but you needn't have been in such a hurry to get it done."

"Hurry?" cried Joe. "Why, it's only just in time. Later than we thought. It's getting light. Now then, who else is hurt?"

There was a growl or two, and Joe shouted again--

"Is any one killed? Bah! Won't say so if he is! What about that boat, Harry?"

"She's fast enough, messmate."

"Hah! That's right. Now then, hold hard a moment. Hear 'em aboard the other boats?"

The question was unnecessary, for shouts and yells for help were evidently rising from men who had swum down-stream to the sides of their consorts, and ceased as they were dragged on board. But a low buzzing murmur kept on, as from a couple of wildly-excited crowds.

Then a sharp shrill voice began giving orders in Spanish, one being followed up with a pistol shot, which was succeeded by a yell and a partial cessation of the buzz of excitement that sounded as if coming from a swarm of human hornets.

"That was the Spanish captain's voice, I am sure," cried Rodd.

"Eight, sir," shouted Joe. "I'd swear to it. Well, he's getting part of his dose. Oh, if it wasn't so dark! Big gun's crew!" he cried. "Is the tackle with her?"

"Ay, ay!" came in answer, after a short bustle of movement, in which trained men took their places.

"Here, run the rammer down her throat, my lads. She may be loaded."

There was the sound of the stout ash staff passing down the bore of the gun, and the answer came--

"Right!"

"Good," replied Joe. "Lower down that light. We must use that--if we fire. But we want fresh charges, and there will be no more here."

There was a quick search made, but without result, and Joe Cross stood silent for a few moments.

"Well," cried the doctor, "why don't you send below, to the magazine?"

"Cabin hatch is closed, sir, and some of the slavers are below. This way, my lads--cutlashes. We must have them out."

"Of course!" cried Rodd excitedly, and Morny uttered a suppressed hiss, as he pressed forward, sword in hand.

"Yes, gentlemen," said Joe; "it's their doing, and they must chance the crocs, for we must clear the vessel before it's broad day."

At that moment there was a crashing sound as if the cabin hatch was being forced open, and as Joe Cross, followed by the rest, dashed aft, there was a yell, a rush, and some eight or ten of the mongrel enemy forced their way on deck, to be met at once by the schooner's crew, who charged at them as men-of-war's men know how to charge.

There was a short encounter, the clash of steel against steel, and the fresh-comers who had taken refuge below began to give way, and in a couple of minutes more the deck was once more cleared, the splashing and plunging of swimming men making for the rapidly dimming light of the next schooner being followed by more blood-curdling yells and groans, mingled with cries for help, while a few minutes later a boat could be faintly seen and efforts were evidently being made to drag the swimmers on board.

"Now then for the gun!" cried Joe.

"What are you going to do?" asked Rodd, who with Morny kept close to the coxswain's side.

"Fight, sir," replied Cross fiercely, "before they begin to fight us. See to the other guns, my lads. The way's open to the magazine now. It'll be light directly, and that Spanish skipper won't leave us long before he begins.--There, what did I say?"

For all at once the meaning of the Spaniards' orders, enforced by a pistol shot, was explained by a bright flash, the roar of a heavy gun, and the whistle of a shot just over the speaker's head.

A dead silence now fell for a few moments upon the deck of the _Maid of Salcombe_. There was a little bustle of preparation, and then a period of waiting, during which Joe Cross carefully sighted the loaded gun, depressing her muzzle all he could, the two lads the while listening excitedly to the stir and orders which came from the Spanish three-master's deck.

"Oh, fire, Joe--fire!" whispered Rodd. "We shall have another shot from her directly."

"Yes, my lad, I know; but I want to make sure of a little more light.--_Fire_!" he said, directly afterwards.

A spark was seen to sink at once upon the touch-hole of the long gun, there was a deep roar as she seemed to leap from the deck, a heavy instantaneous crash, and then a return shot which went wide of their schooner.

"You've hit, Joe," cried Rodd excitedly, as he stood amidst the smoke, which began to spread about where they gathered.

"Yes, sir, I hit," said the man, with a half-laugh, as the crew of the gun busied themselves sponging out and preparing to re-load. "They pretty well filled her to the muzzle, but they got what they meant for us. But hallo! what's the meaning of this 'ere? What's the matter with us now?"

Only this, that the Maid of Salcombe was adrift and threatening, if something were not done to bring her up, to drift ashore not far from where the faint morning light revealed the brig lying right over on her side as helpless as any hulk.

Joe Cross, closely followed by the lads, ran forward to the bows, Rodd one side, Joe and Morny the other.

"Why, the cable must have broke adrift," cried the coxswain, leaning over, to see that the great rope was hanging down straight from the starboard hawse-hole.

"Cut, Joe, cut," shouted Rodd. "Quick! Look out!" For as he had leaned over the bulwarks just above the larboard hawse-hole, a great swarthy mulatto, knife in hand, was climbing up, and as soon as he caught sight of the lad he made for him at once.

Rodd stood upon his guard and managed to strike aside the thrust made at him by the mulatto; but the latter was lithe and active as a monkey. He struck at the boy again, and as Rodd gave way the fellow threw himself on to the rail and sprang over, but only to be cut down by Joe Cross, who had answered the boy's call.

It was the saving of Rodd's life, but the mulatto was dangerous still, and recovering himself he made a dash at Morny, who stepped aside, while, with all the ferociousness of a Malay running amok, the man sprang aft, avoided two or three cuts made at him by the sailors, and then plunged over the side, to begin swimming towards the three-master, which was in the act of sending another shot at the doctor's vessel.

This one crashed through the bulwarks, sending the splinters flying in all directions, and making the coxswain shout to his men to stand firm, as, seeing their perilous position, he hurried to their help, for the big schooner had slipped her cable, a sail had been run up, and she was beginning to answer her helm, while the Maid of Salcombe was drifting helplessly towards the shore.

It was a choice between hoisting sail and letting go another anchor while the chance was there, as the two vessels forged slowly ahead preparing to send in another shot.

This latter in his excitement Joe Cross essayed to do, striking their enemy just at the water-line as she passed them, while now the slaver's sister craft began firing as she too, hoisting sail, was coming up-stream.

"Ah!" panted the sailor, as he turned to Uncle Paul. "Here's your peaceful schooner, sir, as trades in palm-oil! Why, they are pirates and slavers, sir, and I've done it now. Too late, my lads--too late!" he cried to the men, who had let go the other anchor. "Nothing can save us now. We are going ashore."

"Oh, don't give up, man," cried the doctor angrily.

"I won't, sir. None of us will; but--There, I said as much. We just touched bottom then. There she goes again! And in another minute we shall be fast in the mud, and they'll have nothing to do but powder away at us till we are a wreck. Slew that there gun round, boys, and let's give her another shot or two while there's a chance."

"No, no," cried Rodd. "Not at that! Fire at the other. Can't you see, Joe? Uncle! Morny! The three-master's going down!"

It was quite true, for the first shot from the Maid of Salcombe, that sent from the long gun, crammed as Joe had said almost to the muzzle, had torn into the slaver just below water-line. The second had been just as effective in its aim, the water had been pouring in ever since, and now, as she was evidently settling down by the head, her guns were forsaken, all discipline was at an end, and her crew had made a rush for the boats, which were soon after overcrowded and being pushed off by their occupants to make for the third schooner. This last, fairly well managed, came slowly on, firing from time to time at the English craft, which, had now swung round upon her heel and lay bowsprit to the shore in a falling tide.

As far as was possible her guns were slewed round, and a steady reply to the enemy's fire was kept up; but her doom seemed to be sealed, the Spaniard being able to choose her own position, while minute by minute the English vessel was getting more helpless.

"Well, gentlemen, what's it to be?" said Joe, as he stood coolly wiping the blackened perspiration from his forehead.

"Keep on firing to the last," said the doctor sternly. "Better die like men than surrender and be murdered, for after what has passed there can be no mercy here."

"That's right, sir," said the man, "but there's the young gentlemen, and we don't any of us want to die if we can help it."

"Why, you are not beaten, are you, Joe?" cried Rodd fiercely.

"Not a bit of it, sir, but here's our schooner, and there's Mr Morny's brig. It's no use to make an ugly face over a nasty dose. We are beaten, and nothing that we could do could keep that slaver from seeing that she's won."

"Go on firing, and sink her," cried Rodd. "Look at the other one," and he pointed to the three-master, whose decks looked as if they were awash.

"Well, sir, that's what we have been trying to do; but she won't sink. How so be, here goes, my lad, for another try, and--What's the meaning of that?"

For all at once through the smoke that rose from the schooner they could see that something fresh had taken place--what, they could not make out, but it was something important, and one of the enemy's smaller guns was fired in the other direction.

"Why, there must be help coming from down the river," cried the doctor excitedly. "Yes, hark at that!"

For in reply to the schooner's gun a desultory series of musket shots began to ring out, and encouraged by this and the knowledge that help must be at hand, the little English crew sent forth a cheer, dragged the long gun more and more round, and sent one of the most successful shots they had fired crash into the enemy's stern.

To the astonishment of all, the firing on board the enemy ceased; another sail was run up, and as it filled the schooner swung round upon another tack and began to sail steadily down the river, clearing the way for those on board the English vessel to see a couple of well-manned boats being rowed steadily up-stream, with men in the stern-sheets keeping up a musketry fire.

"Quick!" shouted Moray. "Another shot! Friends! Friends!"

"Yes, sir," said Joe quietly, "but I don't see how it's to be done. Yes, we might do it from a little gun;" and he ran with a part of the crew to try and slew her round.

"No good, gentlemen," he said. "By the time we can get a shot off we shall risk hitting those boats, whatever they are, and they are coming to our help. Here, hasn't anybody got a glass?"

"No," cried Rodd; "it was left in the boat."

"Well, there's one in the cabin. Here, one of you run down."

"No, no," cried Morny excitedly; "they're our boats. Look! That's my father in one," he cried hysterically.

"And if that aren't our old man in the other my name aren't Joe Cross!" _

Read next: Chapter 48. The Help That Came

Read previous: Chapter 46. A Knot In The Network

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