The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

      “Hold her helm, stiff,” whispers Groves, and then he backs cautiously into the cabin without rising from his belly, for the men aboard the galley were now clearly distinguishable.

      Presently bang goes another gun, and the same moment, its shot taking our mast a yard or so above the deck, our lateen falls over upon the water with a great slap, and so are we brought to at once.

      Dropping her sail, the galley sweeps up alongside us, and casting out divers hooks and tackle they held ready for their purpose, they grappled us securely. My heart sank within me as I perceived the number of our enemies, thirty or forty, as I reckon (but happily not above half a dozen armed men), and Mohand ou Mohand amongst them with a scimitar in his hand; for now I foresaw the carnage which must ensue when we were boarded.

      Mohand ou Mohand was the first to spring upon our deck, and behind came his janizaries and half a score of seamen. We four, Mr. Godwin holding Moll’s hand in his, stood in a group betwixt Mohand and his men and the cabin where Joe Groves lay with his fellows, biding his time. One of the janizaries was drawing his scimitar, but Mohand bade him put it up, and making an obeisance to Moll, he told us we should suffer no hurt if we surrendered peaceably.

      “Never, you Turkish thief!” cries Dawson, shaking his fist at him.

      Mohand makes a gesture of regret, and turning to his men tells them to take us, but to use no weapons, since we had none. Then, he himself leading, with his eyes fixed hungrily upon Moll, the rest came on, and we fell back towards the cabin.

      The next instant, with a wild yell of fury, the hidden men burst out of the cabin, and then followed a scene of butchery which I pray Heaven it may nevermore be my fate to witness.

      Groves was the first to spill blood. Leaping upon Mohand, he buried a long curved knife right up to the hilt in his neck striking downwards just over the collar bone, and he fell, the blood spurting from his mouth upon the deck. At the same time our men, falling upon the janizaries, did most horrid battle—nay, ’twas no battle, but sheer butchery; for these men, being taken so suddenly, had no time to draw their weapons, and could only fly to the fore end of the boat for escape, where, by reason of their number and the narrow confines of the deck, they were so packed and huddled together that none could raise his hand to ward a blow even, and so stood, a writhing, shrieking mass of humanity, to be hacked and stabbed and ripped and cut down to their death.

      And their butchers had no mercy. They could think only of their past wrongs, and of satiating the thirst for vengeance, which had grown to a madness by previous restraint.

      “There’s for thirteen years of misery,” cries one, driving his spike into the heart of one. “Take that for hanging of my brother,” screams a second, cleaving a Moor’s skull with his hatchet. “Quits for turning an honest lad into a devil,” calls a third, drawing his knife across the throat of a shrieking wretch, and so forth, till not one of all the crowd was left to murder.

      Then still devoured by their lust for blood, they swarmed over the side of the galley to finish this massacre—Groves leading with a shout of “No quarter,” and all echoing these words with a roar of joy. But here they were met with some sort of resistance, for the Moors aboard, seeing the fate of their comrades, forewarning them of theirs, had turned their swivel gun about and now fired—the ball carrying off the head of Joe Groves, the best man of all that crew, if one were better than another. But this only served to incense the rest the more, and so they went at their cruel work again, and ceased not till the last of their enemies was dead. Then, with a wild hurrah, they signal their triumph, and one fellow, holding up his bloody hands, smears them over his face with a devilish scream of laughter.

      And now, caring no more for us or what might befall us, than for the Turks who lay all mangled on our deck, one cuts away the tackle that lashes their galley to us, while the rest haul up the sail, and so they go their way, leaving us to shift for ourselves.

      CHAPTER XLI.

      How Dawson counts himself an unlucky man who were best dead; and so he quits us, and I, the reader.

      The galley bent over to the wind and sped away, and I watched her go without regret, not thinking of our own hapless condition, but only of the brutal ferocity of that mad crew aboard her.

      Their shouts of joy and diabolical laughter died away, and there was no sound but the lapping of the waves against the felucca’s side. They had done their work thoroughly; not a moan arose from the heaps of butchered men, not a limb moved, but all were rigid, some lying in grotesque postures as the death agony had drawn them. And after the tumult that had prevailed this stillness of death was terrific. From looking over this ghastly picture I turned and clutched at Dawson’s hand for some comforting sense of life and humanity.

      We were startled at this moment by a light laugh from the cabin, whither Mr. Godwin had carried Moll, fainting with the horror of this bloody business, and going in there we found her now lying in a little crib, light-headed—clean out of her wits indeed, for she fancied herself on the dusty road to Valencia, taking her first lesson in the fandango from Don Sanchez. Mr. Godwin knelt by the cot side, with his arm supporting her head, and soothing her the best he could. We found a little cask of water and a cup, that he might give her drink, and then, seeing we could be of no further service, Dawson and I went from the cabin, our thoughts awaking now to the peril of our position, without sail in mid-sea.

      And first we cast our eyes all round about the sea, but we could descry no sail save the galley (and that at a great distance), nor any sign of land. Next, casting our eyes upon the deck, we perceived that the thick stream of blood that lay along that side bent over by the broken mast, was greatly spread, and not so black, but redder, which was only to be explained by the mingling of water; and this was our first notice that the felucca was filling and we going down.

      Recovering presently from the stupor into which this suspicion threw us, we pulled up a hatch, and looking down into the hold perceived that this was indeed true, a puncheon floating on the water there within arms’ reach. Thence, making our way quickly over the dead bodies, which failed now to terrify us, to the fore part of our felucca, we discovered that the shot which had hit us had started a plank, and that the water leaked in with every lap of a wave. So now, our wits quickened by our peril, we took a scimitar and a dirk from a dead janizary, to cut away the cordage that lashed us to the fallen mast, to free us of that burden and right the ship if we might. But ere we did this, Dawson, spying the great sail lying out on the water, bethought him to hack out a great sheet as far as we could reach, and this he took to lay over the started plank and staunch the leakage, while I severed the tackle and freed us from the great weight of the hanging mast and long spar. And certainly we thought ourselves safe when this was done, for the hull lifted at once and righted itself upon the water. Nevertheless, we were not easy, for we knew not what other planks below the water line were injured, nor how to sink our sheet or bind it over the faulty part. So, still further to lighten us, we mastered our qualms and set to work casting the dead bodies overboard. This horrid business, at another time, would have made me sick as any dog, but there was no time to yield to mawkish susceptibilities in the face of such danger as menaced us. Only when all was done, I did feel very weakened and shaky, and my gorge rising at the look of my jerkin, all filthy with clotted blood, I tore it off and cast it in the sea, as also did Dawson; and so, to turn our thoughts (after washing of our hands and cleaning our feet), we looked over the side, and agreed that we were no lower than we were, but rather higher for having lightened our burden. But no sail anywhere on the wide sea to add to our comfort.

      Going into the cabin, we found that our dear Moll had fallen into a sleep, but was yet very feverish, as we could see by her frequent turning, her sudden starts, and the dreamy, vacant look in her eyes, when she opened them and begged for water. We would not add to Mr. Godwin’s trouble by telling him of ours (our minds being still restless with apprehensions of the leak), but searching about, and discovering two small, dry loaves, we gave him one, and took the other to divide betwixt us, Dawson and I. And truly we needed this refreshment (as our feeble, shaking limbs testified), after all our exertions of the night and day (it being now high noon), having eaten nothing since supper the night before. But, famished as we were, we must needs steal to the side and look over to mark where the water