Commodore Junk Part 29

The boat was urged through the water again, and the overseer raised his fowling-piece, took aim, and was about to fire, when the officer with him laid his hand upon his arm.

"Wait," he said. "Then both fire together, close in, and board."

"We'll do that afterwards," cried the overseer, discharging his piece and rapidly reloading as the boat glided on till it was only about twenty yards away, and, in spite of a fierce threat or two, the repugnance to shed blood and the natural desire not to fight against the law had kept Abel and Bart from returning the fire.

Their case seemed hopeless now, unless in the struggle to come they repelled the boarders, for the wind which dotted the sea a hundred yards away with ripples refused to kiss their sail, and in another minute the overseer and his party would have been alongside, when, just as he covered Jack's arm, which could be seen lying upon the tiller, and when a shot at such short range would have been almost as bad as one from a bullet, there was a puff of smoke, a sharp report, and the overseer started up in the boat, dropped his fowling-piece, which fell into the sea with a splash, and then, before the officer could save him, he pitched head foremost over the side.

"Look at that now," said Dinny, who had risen into a sitting position on the deck, with his musket across his lap.

"Yes; you've done it now, Dinny Kelly," said the sailor, gruffly.

"Desarted from the station, and shot the superintendent."

"Sorra a bit," said Dinny, as the wind suddenly struck the cutter, which heeled over and began to forge rapidly through the water. "Sorra a bit, man. It was this awkward baste of a mushket. I just closed my finger for a moment on the thrigger, and whoo! off she went, kicking up her heels like a n.i.g.g.e.r's mule. D'yer think the overseer's hurt?"

"I think you've killed him."

"Not I, bedad. It was me mushket," said Dinny. "Divil a bit will I have any more to do wid it. I'll have another with a thrigger which isn't wake."

"You've saved us, Dinny," said Jack, excitedly, as the boat was being left far behind.

"Not I, my lad. Shure, it's between the wind and this worn-out old mushket. It's a baste of a thing. Why, it moight have killed the poor man. I say, lad; d'yer think he's much hurt?"

"A broken arm, that's all, Dinny," said Jack, smiling.

"Ah, well!" said Dinny, reloading the piece; "that'll do him good, and give the poor divils at the plantation a bit of a rest."

He paused in the act of reloading, drew the charge with a dry look upon his countenance, and laid the musket down upon the deck.

"No, thank ye," he said, shaking his head at the piece. "It's a murdhering baste ye are, and ye'll be getting some poor fellow into throuble wan of these days. Don't you think so, d.i.c.k?"

The prisoner screwed up his countenance, and then relaxed it as he looked hard at Dinny.

"Well, it's pretty nigh a hanging matter for you, Dinny," he said.

"What! for an accident, man?"

"Accident! you've gone and committed a rank act of piracy! But, I say, what'll they do with me?"

"Hang ye, I should say," replied Dinny, with a droll look in his eye.

"Hang ye as soon as they've got toime to think about ye; or no: maybe they'll save themselves the throuble, and hand ye over to thim ruffians there."

He pointed over the side, and the sailor gave a start and changed colour as he caught sight of the back-fins of a couple of huge sharks gliding along through the water a little way astern.

"Oh, they're a bad lot with their prisoners, d.i.c.k. Look at me."

"But what are they going to do?" said the sailor, eagerly. "They can't put in anywhere, and as soon as this day's work's known, they'll have a man-o'-war sent after 'em."

"Sorra a wan o' me knows," said Dinny; "but it's moighty plisant out here. I'm toired o' pipe-claying me belts and marching and being senthry, and they may make me prishner as long as they like."

"You didn't half-kill one of them, and they don't bear malice against you," said the sailor, thoughtfully.

"An' is it malice? Why, didn't I thry to run wan of 'em through wid me bagnet, and attimpt to shoot the other! Malice! I belave they liked it, for we've been the best o' friends iver since. Here, Bart, me lad; d.i.c.k here wants to shake hands with yez."

"I don't," said the sailor, sternly; but as Bart came from where he had been taking a pull at one of the ropes, smiling and open-handed, d.i.c.k's face relaxed.

"That was a pretty good wrastle," said Bart, running his eye approvingly over the physique of his late opponent, and gripping d.i.c.k's hand heartily; "but I got the best of you."

d.i.c.k did not answer, but he returned the grip, and Bart went aft directly to relieve Jack at the tiller, while the darkness came on rapidly, and with it the breeze increased in force till the cutter careened over and rapidly left the island behind.

"Well, Dennis Kelly," said the sailor, as they sat together on board later, with the stars gathering overhead, and faint sounds wafted to them from time to time as they glided rapidly along a few miles from land, "you can only make one thing of it, my boy, and that's piracy; and piracy's yard-arm, and a swing at the end of the rope."

"Ah! get along wid ye," said Dinny, contemptuously, "and don't call things by bad names. They're three very plisant fellows, and they've borried the boat and taken us prishners to help them in the cruise; or, if ye like it better, we're pressed men."

"But what are they going to do next?"

"Divil a bit do I know, and the divil a bit do I care. I've no belts to pipe-clay, and you've no deck to holy-stone. What there is to ate they share wid ye, and they take their turn at the watch. Sure, it's a gintleman's life, and what more would ye have?"

"But it's piracy--rank piracy!" said d.i.c.k, stubbornly; "and I want to know what we're going to do next."

"Well, thin, I'll tell ye," said Dinny; "but it's a saycret, moind."

"Well, what?"

"It's a saycret, moind," said Dinny, "and ye won't tell?"

"Tell! Who is there to tell here?"

"n.o.body yet; but ye'll keep the saycret?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, earnestly. "What are they going to do?"

"Didn't I say I'd tell ye," said Dinny, "as soon as I know?"

"Yah!" snarled d.i.c.k.

"Well," cried Dinny, "how can I tell ye till I know? Why, it's my belief, d.i.c.k, me lad, that they don't know themselves."

"Where do you mean to go, Abel?" said Jack at last.

"Go, my la.s.s--my lad!" he said, correcting himself. "Anywhere. We can't touch port, but we've got a tidy little vessel, not too big to manage, and we must sail somewhere to be safe."

"Well, I don't care," came from forward, as d.i.c.k raised his voice in stubborn reiteration with Dinny. "I says it's piracy, and if they're ketched, they'll all be hanged."

A dead silence fell upon the little group, and at last it was Bart who spoke, as if to himself.

"If you helps yourself to a bit o' anything that comes ash.o.r.e, they says it's wrecking; and if you want a drop o' brandy or a bit o' lace from a furrin boat, it's smuggling; and now, if a man wants to get away, and fights for his liberty, he's a pirate."

"For seizing a vessel, Bart," said Jack.