The G.A. Henty MEGAPACK ®. G.a. Henty Henty
out to us by the afternoon we will go in and have a look at them. We have got half a dozen sweeps on board, and with those and the boats we could work her in in a couple of hours.”
“I hope we sha’n’t have to do that,” Edgar replied. “They would guess what we were at once, and would be scattering in all directions. We might pick up one or two, the rest would get off and carry news of us to all the islands round.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Wilkinson agreed. “It would certainly be unfortunate to begin by giving them a scare.”
“Besides,” Edgar went on, “if the calm holds till night, they may come out and try to take us by surprise.”
The day passed very slowly. The heat was great, and the men picked out spots on the deck where the sails threw a shade, and dosed off to sleep. They had, long before, made every preparation; the cutlasses had been ground, the boarding-pikes sharpened, and the pistols loaded and primed. Piles of shot lay by the side of the guns, and it needed only to fetch up the powder cartridges from the magazine to be ready for action. The marines had cleaned and loaded all the muskets, and placed them in the racks. At two o’clock, after dinner had been eaten, Wilkinson said to the boatswain:
“The starboard-watch can sling their hammocks and turn in if they like. If these fellows mean to come out and attack us, they will hardly do it before it becomes dark; perhaps not until two or three o’clock in the morning, and as we shall have to be watchful, there is no occasion for both watches to stay on deck now. The port watch shall go off from two bells till eight; as they take the first watch they will be all the brighter for a snooze beforehand.”
“I wish the beggars would come out and have done with it,” he went on to Edgar, as the boatswain turned away and blew his whistle. “I think I may as well go down, as it is your watch on deck. Have me roused when they change at two bells if I don’t wake of my own accord.”
Contrary to their usual custom in a calm, the earnest desire of all on board was that it should continue, for should a breeze spring up they would be forced to sail away, and the pirates might not pursue them. As soon as it got dark, Wilkinson told the boatswain that it would be as well that a song should be started occasionally, but that not more than five or six men were to join in chorus. If, as they came out, they heard a dead silence they might think it unnatural, and it was quite possible that a boat would come on ahead of them to try and make out what they really were. In the intervals between the songs silence reigned, and all on deck listened intently.
About nine o’clock Edgar exclaimed: “I can hear oars!”
“So can I,” Wilkinson replied, after listening for a minute. “I don’t think that they are sweeps. No, it is a boat rowed by either two or four men—four, I think.”
In a minute or two they were satisfied that it was but a boat. The order was given for another song, after which three or four men were to talk and the rest to sit down below the bulwarks and to keep silence. The two Turks took their places near the officers. From the speed at which the boat was approaching it was certain that she was not deeply laden, and there was no fear, therefore, of a surprise being attempted. She passed within twenty yards of the tafrail, and they could make out that she was an ordinary fisherman’s boat. There was a pile of nets in the stern, and four men were standing up rowing.
“I wish we could get a little wind!” one of them called out.
“We wish so, too,” one of the Turks answered. “We have been lying becalmed all day.”
“Bound for Constantinople, I suppose?” came from the boat.
“No, for Smyrna. We are bringing a cargo from Ancona, and shall load up at Smyrna with fruit.”
With a Turkish good-night the men rowed on, and the singer forward at once began another song. For a quarter of an hour they could hear the sound of the oars growing fainter and fainter, then it ceased.
“They have rowed straight on till they think they are out of hearing,” Wilkinson said. “Now they will make a circuit and go back to their friends with the news. There is no doubt we are in luck if we get a brush with them the first night after our arrival on our cruising ground.”
About three o’clock in the morning a confused sound could be heard. In two or three minutes every man was at his post.
“There are only two, or at most three of them,” Edgar said, in a tone of disappointment, “and I doubt whether they are not big rowing-boats. The strokes are too quick for either sweeps or for boats towing. What a beastly nuisance! I suppose when these fellows took back the report, that though we were a good-sized brig we did not seem to have many hands, they thought that it was not worth while to tow out a big craft when row-boats would do. They think that with twelve or fifteen hands in each boat, and the advantage of surprise, they would be able to overpower us at once.”
“The surprise will be the other way,” Wilkinson said angrily. “We shall send them all three to the bottom at the first broadside.”
“I don’t think I should do that, Wilkinson; for, if you do, there is an end of our chance of capturing any of their larger craft.”
“Of course I see that; that is the annoying part of the business. What do you propose, then?”
“I should say that the best plan would be, not to hail them until they get close on board, then for a man forward to give a sudden shout, as if he had been asleep on his watch and had only just heard them. Then they will come tumbling on board, thinking that the ship is already theirs. We might divide our men, and keep them half forward and half aft. The moment they all get on board, rush down upon them. Tell off six men, with orders to jump down into their boats as soon as they can, and to push them off, so as to cut off their retreat. The boats will be very useful to us, for we can tow the brig in with them. The people in there will think that she has been captured, and we shall get right in the middle of them before they find out that they have caught a tartar.”
“By Jove, that is a first-rate idea!”
To their surprise, the men were at once called away from their guns and divided into two parties. Edgar and the boatswain commanded that gathered forward, Wilkinson and the gunner that aft. Nine men were told off for the capture of the boats, for, as Edgar pointed out, when the pirates found that they were caught in a trap, a good many of them might leap overboard and try to get into the boats, and it might need fully three men to keep them off.
“Now, lads, you understand,” Wilkinson said, as the parties were about to take up their places, “you must crouch down and keep yourselves perfectly quiet until the word is given; it is important to get them all on board. When they see no one on deck they will think that the one or two men who might be on the watch have run below. You can use your pistols freely when the fighting once begins. When the fellows find that they are trapped, they are likely enough to fight hard, and I don’t want to lose any men. Keep your cutlasses in readiness, but trust principally to your boarding-pikes.”
The boats were but four or five hundred yards away when the crew of the Tigress took up their position. A minute later one of the men in the bow shouted suddenly:
“There are boats coming!—quick, on deck!—pirates! pirates!”
Then four or five men down in the forecastle also shouted, ran up on deck, and then, with cries of alarm, ran below again, and then, but quietly this time, joined their comrades, who were crouching as closely together as possible forward of the bitts. There was a roar of voices from the boats. They could hear the oars plied desperately; then closely following this came three bumps against the side of the brig, and, clambering up the chains, the pirates poured tumultuously upon the deck, breaking into a shout of triumph as they met with no resistance. There was a pause of astonishment as the guns were seen; then their leader shouted that these could be but dummies, intended to run out and frighten people in the daytime.
“Down below, men!” one shouted; “finish with them first; it will be time to talk afterwards.”
One of the Turks, who spoke a little French, crouching by the side of Wilkinson,