CHAPTER I. THE MUTINY.

I was nearly fifteen and my brother Tom was a little over sixteen when father died. There were no more of us, for our mother had died when I was so little that I could scarcely remember her. The only relation we had in the world was an uncle whom we had never seen and who lived in America, in the colony of the Carolinas.

Father was a British channel pilot, and Tom and I were born and had lived except for one week, all our lives, in Bristol. This I have been told is the finest city in England, though, of course, everybody knows that it is not quite so big as London. Father owned [10]a share in a pilot boat, and he often took us out with him when he was cruising for a homeward-bound ship. We used to help the men work the boat, and we were better sailors than either of the two apprentices.

Once a man hired father to sail a new brig from Bristol round to Penzance, and we went with him. That was the one week when we did not live in Bristol, which I just mentioned. We enjoyed it very much and learned a good deal about square-rigged vessels while we were in the brig.

Pilots did not make much profit in those days, and father left us nothing except half a crown and his share of the pilot boat. Before he died he told his partners to sell his share and use the money to send Tom and me to our uncle in America. The two partners bought the share themselves for thirty pounds, which was all it was worth, for they were good honest men, and when they had paid our passage to America on the brig Swansea, they gave us two pounds ten and [11]threepence, which was all the money that was left.

The captain of the Swansea agreed to take us as if we were gentlemen passengers. We were to live with him in the great cabin and were not to do any work. Not that we were not quite willing to work our passage, but Captain Robinson, father’s oldest partner, said, “No; it was our late pardner’s orders that you was to be sent to America, and that did not mean that you should work your way; and it shall be done accordin’ to orders, for a dead man’s wishes ought for to be carried out, providin’ it can be done; you don’t want to have ghosts a-visitin’ you.”

The Swansea was a fine brig of four hundred tons. She carried four guns on a side besides a big gun amidships. These guns were to keep off pirates, though, as it turned out, they were the very reason why we fell into the hands of pirates; for if we had not been so well armed I doubt not that we should have sailed straight to [12]Charleston and the poor captain would have been alive at this day.

We had two mates and a crew of twelve men besides the cook and the cabin boy, so, for the size of the brig, we were strong-handed.

The captain, whose name was Fearing, was a Bristol man, who had known father for many years. He was a good, kind man, but he was not severe enough to keep a bad crew in order, and, what was worse, he often drank too much spirits, and then acted so foolishly that the men had no respect for him. I do not like to say this, because Captain Fearing was always kind to Tom and me. He was a brave man, too, and always ready to do his duty when he was sober, but it is the truth, and there is no help for it.

The mate was a smart, active seaman, but I did not like him, for I always felt that he could not be trusted. Instead of keeping spirits from the captain, he would often bring a bottle with him on deck and offer it to the [13]poor man who could not resist the temptation to drink when the stuff was, as you might say, held up to his lips. But I had no reason to complain of the mate’s treatment of Tom and me. He was always pleasant and respectful, treating us indeed like young gentlemen, and he would sometimes tell us wonderful stories of the exploits of great pirates, such as Captain John Morgan, and other like bloody men.

The second mate, Mr. Otway, was a hard, brutal man, who was fond of knocking the men about and of using dreadful language; but one night, after we had been at sea about three weeks, he fell overboard. At least he was missing, and it was supposed he had fallen overboard, though I now believe that he was murdered by the crew.

And surely a worse crew never sailed out of Bristol. They were shipped because sailors were scarce at the time, and Captain Fearing had to take such men as he could get. They were mostly Englishmen, but a [14]drunken, vagabond set, and there were three or four foreigners among them, Spaniards and such—wicked-looking men who were fit for any desperate work. The men obeyed Mr. Otway because they were afraid of him, and they generally treated the mate respectfully, but they would insult the captain to his face.

We had pleasant weather all the voyage, for it was the month of June, when the winter was over and the summer hurricanes had not begun. The brig was a very fast sailer, and was not heavily loaded, but I heard that her cargo was a very valuable one, although I never knew what it was.

There is a strong current called the Gulf Stream that sets up the American coast, and when we were approaching it the captain kept to the southward in order to make allowance for it; for he was not an expert navigator with instruments, and used to say that he valued dead reckoning and the hand-lead more than all the brass instruments and [15]mathematics that were ever invented. As it afterwards turned out, he was mistaken in his reckoning, and we were much further south than we ought to have been, though I think the mate knew it all the time.

Early one morning Tom and I were awakened by a noise in the cabin, and turning out in a hurry, we found the cabin filled with men. The captain was sitting in a chair with his hands and feet tied, and the mate was standing in front of him making a speech. Nearly all the crew were there, some of them grinning and passing low jokes, but more of them looking fierce and excited. The captain was quite sober and had evidently been seized and bound while he was asleep, for he was in his night-clothes. Nobody paid any attention to Tom and me, and we tried not to attract any notice.

“I’m very sorry that this has happened, Captain Fearing,” said the mate, “for I’ve nothing in the world against you, but you must see that it’s a shame that a smart brig [16]like the Swansea, and a stout crew should be wasted in trading when we could make our fortunes out of hand in a few months as gentlemen rovers.”

“You’re a scoundrel, John March,” replied the captain, “a mutinous, piratical hound.”

“Now, don’t use such language, Captain, for I want to be friendly with you, though, in course, I knew that you’re ruffled a bit at being lashed up in your own cabin. But it’s this way, you see. The men are determined to make a cruise or two in the brig, and as I’m the only navigator on board, except you, they naturally want me to take charge of her, knowing that you’ve a prejudice against a roving life. I’d have continued the voyage to Charleston if I’d had my way, but when it’s a choice between commanding as brave a set of men as ever I sot eyes on, or having my head split open, why, in course, I chooses the first.”

Here some of the men began to murmur that there had been enough talk, [17]and that they couldn’t wait all day for soft speeches.

“What do you mean to do with me?” asked the Captain. “And what do you mean to do with the two young gentlemen?”

“We are going to treat you very handsome, Captain,” replied the mate. “The brig is at this identical moment hove to in sight of the coast of Florida. There’s a boat all ready for you, and you and the two young gentlemen can take it and pull ashore, or steer for Charleston, just as you please. We’ll give you provisions and arms, and you’ll find fresh water ashore; and I think you’ll admit that this is more than you’ve any right to expect.”

“Let the kids join in with us, if so be that they want to make their fortins,” said one of the men.

“They don’t want to join; they wouldn’t be of no use except to share our earnings, and besides it was in our bargain that they were to be put ashore with the captain. I [18]sticks to my bargain, my lads, and I expect you to stick to yours,” said the mate.

I was very glad to hear this said, for I was beginning to have a terrible fear that I should be made to stay with the pirates.

“And now, Captain,” continued the mate, “if you’ll pass your word to go ashore quiet and peaceable, I’ll cast off these lashin’s, and you shall dress yourself and leave us, for there’s a nice breeze springing up.”

The captain wanted to burst out in violent language; but he saw it was no use, so he presently said, “I’m in your power and I must submit.”

“That’s right,” exclaimed the mate; “I do like to see a man act smooth and appreciate a kindness when it’s shown to him. Now, men, you can go on deck and I’ll stay here till the captain and the young gentlemen are ready.”

Tom and I dressed in a hurry, and as soon as the captain was ready we all went on deck, and the mate invited us to get into one of [19]the quarter boats. The men stood near by, silent and scowling.

“You’ll find everything comfortable in the boat,” said the mate, as pleasantly as if we had hired it of him for a pleasure trip. “There’s two hams, and some biscuit, and there’s two guns and ammunition, and there’s blankets, and a lantern. Why, you might go a pirating yourself, Captain, with that craft. I really envy you, I do.”

All the while he was talking the mate was pushing us into the boat, and passing one of the falls to the captain and one to me. “Now lower away smartly,” he added, “for we want to make sail on the brig.”

“This is all foolishness,” cried one of the sailors, with a lot of wicked words which I won’t mention. “Cut one of the falls, and drown the lot of them, I say.”

March jumped on the rail, holding on by one of the davits, and drew a pistol. “I’ve passed my word that they shall go ashore safe,” he said, “and you know me and know [20]I’m a man of my word. The first man that touches one of those falls is a dead man.”

The men said no more, and we lost no time in getting clear of the brig. As we pulled away the mate waved his hat to the captain, and then jumped down from the rail and we saw him no more.

We pulled straight for the shore, Tom and I taking the oars and the captain steering. The shore was only about ten miles away, and the sea was quite smooth, with a nice light breeze that helped to keep us cool. The captain said nothing for a long while, but kept looking back at the brig. The pirates had filled the main topsail as soon as we had left, and were now standing to the south’ard, and we never expected to see them or the brig again.

“It’s the bottle that has done this,” exclaimed the captain after a while. “If I’d have kept sober I could have seen this mutiny brewing, and stopped it, but now I [21]am a ruined man. All I had in the world was in that vessel.”

As he seemed to be talking to himself and not to us, neither Tom nor I said anything to him.

“And John March, too, a man whose life I had saved. To think that he should turn against me and seize my brig. But he never had any conscience, and he is sure to come to the gallows.”

“But if it hadn’t been for him, sir,” I ventured to say, “we should all have been drowned.”

“I suppose so,” answered the captain; “but it would have been better for me if I had been. Take warning by me, boys, and never touch spirits. I’ve taken my last drink, but I’ve mended my ways when it is too late to undo the ruin that I have brought on myself. Before you ever take a glass of spirits, you jump overboard and drown yourself, for you’d much better be dead than a drunkard.”

I was very glad to hear that the captain [22]had resolved never to drink again, for I liked him very much, all but his one bad habit.

But before very long he began to overhaul the things in the stern sheets, as if he were searching for something, and could not find it. Then he said, “Boys, just look about you and see if there is a bottle in the boat.” We couldn’t find any, and then the captain broke out against the mate, saying that he had purposely set him ashore without a drop of spirits, though he knew he couldn’t live without it. So I saw that the captain’s reformation would only last till he could get at the bottle again. It was very lucky for us that the mate had not put any strong liquors in the boat; for if he had done so the captain would certainly have made himself unfit to manage the boat and would very likely have capsized it and drowned us all.

I had noticed a little piece of white paper lying on the bottom of the boat, and when the breeze fluttered it I saw it had writing [23]on it. So I pointed it out to the captain, and he read it out loud, for he was a poor scholar and could not read unless he pronounced every word, and spelled all the long ones. I picked the note up afterwards and have kept it to this day. Here it is:

Honored Captain:

I take the great liberty of saying that we are now in latitude 29°, your calculations not having been quite right, through no fault of yours. You will find a small river, if you pull straight ashore, but the entrance to it won’t be easy to find unless you bring two tall pine trees in a line. If I may humbly advise I would say don’t stop on this coast, for you might meet some bad characters, but steer northerly for about eighty miles, where you will find a settlement. With my duty to the young gentlemen, and wishing you health and a prosperous voyage I am your humble servant,

John March.

[24]

CHAPTER II. ASHORE.

When the captain had read the mate’s letter he was more angry than ever, and said that Mr. March was the most cruel and cowardly hypocrite that ever lived. I did not know what to think, for though the mate had turned pirate, and stolen the captain’s ship, he had saved the captain from being murdered by the crew and had saved Tom and me from what would have been worse than being murdered. It was certain that he was a very bad man, but for all that he did seem to be kind-hearted, and it was good in him to write that letter, for without it we could never have found the river.

When we came near the shore we could see nothing but a long stretch of sand beach [25]with low sand hills, and a thick forest of pine-trees behind them. There were two pines that were about half a mile apart, so far as we could judge, and stood out separate from the rest of the trees, for, as we afterwards found, the forest had been cleared away around them. We brought these two trees in line with one another and then steered for the beach, where we found an inlet with the tide running into it. This brought us into a little lagoon that lay between the beach and the mainland. Continuing to keep the trees in line we crossed the lagoon and found ourselves at the mouth of a small river, up which we pulled, delighted to find ourselves in the shade of the forest.

It was a beautiful river. It was so narrow that the trees on each bank nearly touched their branches overhead, and half a mile from the lagoon the water became perfectly clear, so that we could often see the sandy bottom, though in most places the river was [26]very deep. All sorts of strange and beautiful birds were among the trees, and we saw more snakes in the water and on the shore than we wanted to see. Once we startled a large wild beast that was sleeping on the shore and that was spotted like a leopard, but as soon as it saw us it bounded into the forest. Tom and I were perfectly happy. The beautiful river was so much better than the cabin of the Swansea, that we began to be glad that the crew had mutinied and driven us away.

A mile up the river we came to a small clearing where there was a sort of fort, very near the river, and a nice landing-place for boats. The fort was quite deserted, and at once we went ashore to explore it.

It was built of great pine logs, squared and fitted closely together. It had only two windows, high above the ground, one at each end, and was loop-holed, like a real stone fort on every side. There was an immensely thick door in the side toward the [27]river, which could be fastened from the inside with an iron bar, but it stood wide open and the doorway was filled with the biggest spider-webs I ever saw. There was another smaller door in the opposite side of the house, which also had its iron bar, and was closed.

There was nothing in the house but loose straw, which was scattered all over the floor; a long table, some rough benches, and a few pots, pans and plates. Grass had grown up between the boards of the floor in many places, and it was plain that nobody had been inside the fort for a long while. There was a curious smell about the place that reminded me of a menagerie I had once seen in Bristol, and I could not understand why Captain Fearing would not at first let us search the fort, but told us to go and bring up the things that were in the boat.

While we were busy the captain found a long pole with which he carefully stirred up the straw, and finally threw it all out of the [28]back door. Then he made us help him stop up the holes in the floor with clay, and finally we scrubbed the place out with thick branches of trees, and then made beds out of pine twigs that we cut and brought into the fort.

We had a dinner of cold ham and biscuit, and then the captain when he had lit his pipe told us that the fort must have been built by pirates as a place to stay in while repairing their vessels. Near the brink of the river there was a great tar-kettle that was empty, but which had been used for heating pitch with which to calk seams. “You see,” said the captain, “that villain the mate knows this place, and has been a pirate at some time in his life. Perhaps his gang was the only one which used the fort, for in my opinion, nobody has been here for a good many years.”

In the afternoon Tom and I went out to explore, after the captain had warned us to keep a sharp lookout for snakes, especially [29]a terrible variety with watchmen’s rattles at their tails, which can kill a man in an hour or two, they are so venomous.

We went out of the back door and up a sloping path which led through bushes so tall and thick that you might have stood close to the side of it without suspecting that there was a path there. The path itself was pretty well grown up with weeds and bushes, but still we could make it out and we followed it till we came to a hill, in the side of which was the entrance to a cave.

Mr. March had kindly given us a lantern, and Tom ran back to get it. We lit it with a flint and steel that I always carried in my pocket, and then we entered the cave. It was so large that we could stand up straight in it, and the bottom, which was fine gravel, sloped downward pretty steeply. There was not much to see in the cave until we had gone, I should think, twenty rods into it, when we came to a wonderful little lake which occupied the whole floor of the cave [30]and prevented us from going any further. The roof of the cave glittered beautifully, for it was all full of white crystals, some of which hung down in long points and sparkled like frost on a window when the sun strikes it.

There was a small skiff lying partly in the water and partly on the shore, with a short paddle lying in the bottom of it. There was a little water in the skiff, but when we launched it the water did not increase, which showed that the skiff did not leak. We hauled it up on the shore again to keep it from drifting away, and resolved to come back and make a voyage on the lake the next day.