 | CHAPTER XIV. The Red Rover |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
— “Front to front,
Bring thou this fiend—
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!”
— Macbeth.
“You have brought the grateful submission of the
pirate to my offers!” exclaimed the sanguine Commander
of the “Dart” to his messenger, as the foot
of the latter once more touched his deck.
“I bring nothing but defiance!” was the unexpected
reply.
“Did you exhibit my statement? Surely, Mr Ark,
so material a document was not forgotten!”
“Nothing was forgotten that the warmest interest
in his safety could suggest, Captain Bignall. Still the
chief of yonder lawless ship refuses to hearken to
your conditions.”
“Perhaps, sir, he imagines that the `Dart' is defective
in some of her spars,” returned the hasty old
seaman, compressing his lips, with a look of wounded
pride; “he may hope to escape by pressing the canvas
on his own light-heeled ship.”
“Does that look like flight?” demanded Wilder,
extending an arm towards the nearly naked spars
and motionless hull of their neighbour. “The utmost
I can obtain is an assurance that he will not be the
assailant.”
“'Fore George, he is a merciful youth! and one
that should be commended for his moderation! He
will not run his disorderly, picarooning company
under the guns of a British man-of-war, because he
owes a little reverence to the flag of his master!
Hark ye, Mr Ark, we will remember the circumstance
when questioned at the Old Bailey. Send the
people to their guns, sir, and ware the ship round, to
him sending a boat aboard to examine our commissions.”
“Captain Bignall,” said Wilder, leading his Commander
still further from the ears of their inferiors.
“I may lay some little claim to merit for services
done under your own eyes, and in obedience to your
orders. If my former conduct may give me a title to
presume to counsel one of your great experience,
suffer me to urge a short delay.”
“Delay! Does Henry Ark hesitate, when the enemies
of his King, nay more, the enemies of man, are
daring him to his duty!”
“Sir, you mistake me. I hesitate, in order that
the flag under which we sail may be free from stain,
and not with any intent of avoiding the combat. Our
enemy, my enemy knows that he has nothing now to
expect, for his past generosity, but kindness, should
he become our captive. Still, Captain Bignall, I ask
for time, to prepare the `Dart' for a conflict that will
try all her boasted powers, and to insure a victory
that will not be bought without a price.”
“But should he escape”—
“On my life he will not attempt it. I not only
know the man, but how formidable are his means of
resistance. A short half hour will put us in the necessary
condition, and do no discredit either to our
spirit or to our prudence.”
The veteran yielded a reluctant consent, which
was not, however, accorded without much muttering
concerning the disgrace a British man-of-war incurred
in not running alongside the boldest pirate that
floated, and blowing him out of water, with a single
match. Wilder, who was accustomed to the honest
professional bravados that often formed a peculiar
embellishment to the really firm and manly resolution
of the seamen of that age, permitted him to make
his plaints at will, while he busied himself in a manner
and in a duty that properly came under his more immediate
inspection, in consequence of the station he
occupied.
The “order for all hands to clear ship for action”
was again given, and received in the cheerful temper
with which mariners are wont to welcome any of
the more important changes of their exciting profession.
Little remained, however, to be done; for
most of the previous preparations had still been left,
as at the original meeting of the two vessels. Then
came the beat to quarters, and the more serious and
fearful-looking preparations for certain combat. After
these several arrangements had been completed, the
crew at their guns, the sail-trimmers at the braces,
and the officers in their several batteries, the after-yards
were swung, and the ship once more put in
motion.
During this brief interval, the vessel of the Rover
lay, at the distance of half a mile, in a state of entire
rest, without betraying the smallest interest in the
obvious movements of her hostile neighbour. When,
however, the “Dart” was seen yielding to the breeze,
and gradually increasing her velocity, until the water
was gathering under her fore-foot in a little rolling
wave of foam, the bows of the other fell off from the
direction of the wind, the topsail was filled, and, in
her turn, the hull was held in command, by giving to
it the impetus of motion. The “Dart” now set
again at her gaff that broad field which had been
lowered during the conference, and which had floated
in triumph through the hazards and struggles of a
thousand combats. No answering emblem, however,
was exhibited from the peak of her adversary.
In this manner the two ships “gathered way,” as
it is expressed in nautical language, watching each
other with eyes as jealous as though they had been
two rival monsters of the great deep, each endeavouring
contemplated next. The earnest, serious manner of
Wilder had not failed to produce its influence on the
straight-minded seaman who commanded the “Dart;”
and, by this time, he was as much disposed as his
lieutenant to approach the conflict leisurely, and
with proper caution.
The day had hitherto been cloudless, and a vault
of purer blue never canopied a waste of water, than
the arch which had swept for hours above the heads
of our marine adventurers. But, as if nature frowned
on their present bloody designs, a dark, threatening
mass of vapour was blending the ocean with the
sky, in a direction opposed to the steady currents of
the air. These well-known and ominous signs did
not escape the vigilance of those who manned the
hostile vessels, but the danger was still deemed too
remote to interrupt the higher interests of the approaching
combat.
“We have a squall brewing in the west,” said the
experienced and wary Bignall, pointing to the frowning
symptoms as he spoke; “but we can handle the
pirate, and get all snug again, before it works its way
up against this breeze.”
Wilder assented; for, by this time, high professional
pride was swelling in his bosom also, and a
generous rivalry was getting the mastery of feelings
that were possibly foreign to his duty, however natural
they might have been in one as open to kindness
as himself.
“The Rover is sending down even his lighter
masts!” exclaimed the youth; “it would seem that
he greatly distrusts the weather.”
“We will not follow his example; for he will wish
they were aloft again, the moment we get him fairly
under the play of our batteries. By George our
King, but he has a pretty moving boat under him!
shall have it night before we get the rogue a-beam.”
The order was obeyed; and then the “Dart,”
feeling the powerful impulse, quickened her speed,
like an animated being, that is freshly urged by its
apprehensions or its wishes. By this time, she had
gained a position on the weather-quarter of her adversary,
who had not manifested the smallest desire
to prevent her attaining so material an advantage.
On the contrary, while the “Dolphin” kept the same
canvas spread, she continued to lighten her top-hamper,
bringing as much of the weight as possible, from
the towering height of her tall masts, to the greater
security of the hull. Still, the distance between them
was too great, in the opinion of Bignall, to commence
the contest, while the facility with which his adversary
moved a-head threatened to protract the important
moment to an unreasonable extent, or to reduce
him to a crowd of sail that might prove embarrassing,
while enveloped in the smoke, and pressed by
the urgencies of the combat.
“We will touch his pride, sir, since you think him
a man of spirit,” said the veteran, to his faithful coadjutor:
“Give him a weather-gun, and show him
another of his Master's ensigns.”
The roar of the piece, and the display of three
more of the fields of England, in quick succession,
from different parts of the “Dart,” failed to produce
the slightest evidence, even of observation, aboard
their seemingly insensible neighbour. The “Dolphin”
still kept on her way, occasionally swooping
up gracefully to touch the wind, and then deviating
from her course again to leeward, as the porpoise is
seen to turn aside from his direction to snuff the
breeze, while he lazily sports along his briny path.
“He will not be moved by any of the devices of
lawful and ordinary warfare,” said Wilder, when he
had been received.
“Then try him with a shot.”
A gun was now discharged from the side next the
still receding “Dolphin.” The iron messenger was
seen bounding along the surface of the sea, skipping
lightly from wave to wave, until it cast a little cloud
of spray upon the very deck of their enemy, as it
boomed harmlessly past her hull. Another, and yet
another, followed, without in any manner extracting
signal or notice from the Rover.
“How's this!” exclaimed the disappointed Bignall.
“Has he a charm for his ship, that all our shot
sweep by him in rain! Master Fid, can you do nothing
for the credit of honest people, and the honour
of a pennant? Let us hear from your old favourite;
in times past she used to speak to better purpose.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” returned the accommodating Richard,
who, in the sudden turns of his fortune, found
himself in authority over a much-loved and long-cherished
piece. “I christened the gun after Mistress
Whiffle, your Honour, for the same reason, that
they both can do their own talking. Now, stand
aside, my lads, and let clattering Kate have a whisper
in the discourse.”
Richard, who had coolly taken his sight, while
speaking, now deliberately applied the match with
his own hand, and, with a philosophy that was sufficiently
to be commended in a mercenary, sent what
he boldly pronounced to be “a thorough straight-goer”
across the water, in the direction of his recent
associates. The usual moments of suspense succeeded,
and then the torn fragments, which were seen
scattered in the air, announced that the shot had
passed through the nettings of the “Dolphin.” The
effect on the vessel of the Rover was instantaneous,
and nearly magical. A long stripe of cream-coloured
canvas, which had been artfully extended, from her
as suddenly as a bird would shut its wings, leaving in
its place a broad blood-red belt, which was bristled
with the armament of the ship. At the same time,
an ensign of a similar ominous colour, rose from her
poop, and, fluttering darkly and fiercely for a moment,
it became fixed at the end of the gaff.
“Now I know him for the knave that he is!” cried
the excited Bignall; “and, see! he has thrown away
his false paint, and shows the well-known bloody side,
from which he gets his name. Stand to your guns,
my men! the pirate is getting earnest.”
He was still speaking, when a sheet of bright flame
glanced from out that streak of red which was so
well adapted to work upon the superstitious awe of
the common mariners, and was followed by the simultaneous
explosion of nearly a dozen wide-mouthed
pieces of artillery. The startling change, from inattention
and indifference, to this act of bold and decided
hostility, produced a strong effect on the boldest
heart on board the King's cruiser. The momentary
interval of suspense was passed in unchanged
attitudes and looks of deep attention; and then the
rushing of the iron storm was heard hurtling through
the air, as it came fearfully on. The crash that followed,
mingled, as it was, with human groans, and
succeeded by the tearing of riven plank, and the scattering
high of splinters, ropes, blocks, and the implements
of war, proclaimed the fatal accuracy of the
broadside. But the surprise, and, with it, the brief
confusion, endured but for an instant. The English
shouted, and sent back a return to the deadly assault
they had just received, recovering manfully and
promptly from the shock which it had assuredly given.
The ordinary and more regular cannonading of a
naval combat succeeded. Anxious to precipitate the
issue, both ships pressed nigher to each other the
while, until, in a few moments, the two white canopies
masts, were blended in one, marking a solitary spot
of strife, in the midst of a scene of broad and bright
tranquillity. The discharges of the cannon were hot,
close, and incessant. While the hostile parties, however,
closely imitated each other in their zeal in
dealing out destruction, a peculiar difference marked
the distinction in character of the two crews. Loud,
cheering shouts accompanied each discharge from
the lawful cruiser, while the people of the rover did
their murderous work amid the deep silence of desperation.
The spirit and uproar of the scene soon quickened
that blood, in the veins of the veteran Bignall, which
had begun to circulate a little slowly by time.
“The fellow has not forgotten his art!” he exclaimed,
as the effects of his enemy's skill were getting
but too manifest, in the rent sails, shivered spars,
and tottering masts of his own ship. “Had he but
the commission of the King in his pocket, one might
call him a hero!”
The emergency was too urgent to throw away the
time in words. Wilder answered only by cheering
his own people to their fierce and laborious task.
The ships had now fallen off before the wind, and
were running parallel to each other, emitting sheets
of flame, that were incessantly glancing through immense
volumes of smoke. The spars of the respective
vessels were alone visible, at brief and uncertain
intervals. Many minutes had thus passed, seeming
to those engaged but a moment of time, when the
mariners of the “Dart” found that they no longer
held their vessel in the quick command, so necessary
to their situation. The important circumstance was
instantly conveyed from the master to Wilder, and
from Wilder to his superior. A hasty consultation
on the cause and consequences of this unexpected
event was the immediate and natural result.
“See!” cried Wilder, “the sails are already hanging
against the masts like rags; the explosions of the
artillery have stilled the wind.”
“Hark!” answered the more experienced Bignall:
“There goes the artillery of heaven among our own
guns.—The squall is already upon us—port the helm,
sir, and sheer the ship out of the smoke! Hard a-port
with the helm, sir, at once!—hard with it a-port,
I say.”
But the lazy motion of the vessel did not answer
to the impatience of those who directed her movements,
nor did it meet the pressing exigencies of the
moment. In the mean time, while Bignall, and the
officers whose duties kept them near his person, assisted
by the sail-trimmers, were thus occupied, the
people in the batteries continued their murderous
employment. The roar of cannon was still constant,
and nearly overwhelming, though there were instants
when the deep ominous mutterings of the atmosphere
were too distinctly audible to be mistaken. Still the
eye could lend no assistance to the hearing, in determining
the judgment of the mariners. Hulls, spars,
and sails were alike enveloped in the curling wreaths
which wrapped heaven, air, vessels, and ocean, alike,
in one white, obscure, foggy mantle. Even the persons
of the crew were merely seen at instants, labouring
at the guns, through brief and varying openings.
“I never knew the smoke pack so heavy on the
deck of a ship before,” said Bignall, with a concern
that even his caution could not entirely repress.
“Keep the helm a-port—jam it hard, sir! By Heaven,
Mr Wilder, those knaves well know they are
struggling for their lives!”
“The fight is all our own!” shouted the second
lieutenant, from among the guns, stanching, as he
spoke, the blood of a severe splinter-wound in the face,
and far too intent on his own immediate occupation,
not answered with a single gun, for near a minute.”
“ 'Fore George, the rogues have enough!” exclaimed
the delighted Bignall. “Three cheers for vic—”
“Hold, sir!” interrupted Wilder, with sufficient
decision to check his Commander's premature exultation;
“on my life, our work is not so soon ended.
I think, indeed, his guns are silent;—but, see! the
smoke is beginning to lift. In a few more minutes, if
our own fire should cease, the view will be clear.”
A shout from the men in the batteries interrupted
his words; and then came a general cry that the pirates
were sheering off. The exultation at this fancied
evidence of their superiority was, however, soon
and fearfully interrupted. A bright, vivid flash penetrated
through the dense vapour which still hung
about them in a most extraordinary manner, and was
followed by a crash from the heavens, to which the
simultaneous explosion of fifty pieces of artillery
would have sounded feeble.
“Call the people from their guns!” said Bignall,
in those suppressed tones that are only more portentous
from their forced and unnatural calmness: “Call
them away at once, sir, and get the canvas in!”
Wilder, startled more at the proximity and apparent
weight of the squall than at words to which he
had been long accustomed, delayed not to give an
order that was seemingly so urgent. The men left
their batteries, like athletæ retiring from the arena,
some bleeding and faint, some still fierce and angry,
and all more or less excited by the furious scene
in which they had just been actors. Many sprung
to the well-known ropes, while others, as they ascended
into the cloud which still hung on the vessel,
became lost to the eye in her rigging.
“Shall I reef, or furl?” demanded Wilder, standing
with the trumpet at his lips, ready to issue the
necessary order.
“Hold, sir; another minute will give us an opening.”
The lieutenant paused; for he was not slow to see
that now, indeed, the veil was about to be drawn
from their real situation. The smoke, which had
lain upon their very decks, as though pressed down
by the superincumbent weight of the atmosphere,
first began to stir; was then seen eddying among the
masts; and, finally, whirled wildly away before a
powerful current of air. The view was, indeed, now
all before them.
In place of the glorious sun, and that bright, blue
canopy which had lain above them a short half-hour
before, the heavens were clothed in one immense
black veil. The sea reflected the portentous colour,
looking dark and angrily. The waves had already
lost their regular rise and fall, and were tossing to
and fro, as if awaiting the power that was to give
them direction and greater force. The flashes from
the heavens were not in quick succession; but the
few that did break upon the gloominess of the scene
came in majesty, and with dazzling brightness. They
were accompanied by the terrific thunder of the tropics,
in which it is scarcely profanation to fancy that
the voice of One who made the universe is actually
speaking to the creatures of his hand. On every side,
was the appearance of a fierce and dangerous struggle
in the elements. The vessel of the Rover was
running lightly before a breeze, which had already
come fresh and fitful from the cloud, with her sails
reduced, and her people coolly, but actively, employed
in repairing the damages of the fight.
Not a moment was to be lost in imitating the example
of the wary freebooters. The head of the
“Dart” was hastily, and happily, got in a direction
contrary to the breeze; and, as she began to follow
the course taken by the “Dolphin,” an attempt was
to the yards. But precious minutes had been lost in
the smoky canopy, that might never be regained.
The sea changed its colour from a dark green to a
glittering white; and then the fury of the gust was
heard rushing along the water with fearful rapidity,
and with a violence that could not be resisted.
“Be lively, men!” shouted Bignall himself, in the
exigency in which his vessel was placed; “Roll up
the cloth; in with it all—leave not a rag to the squall!
'Fore George, Mr Wilder, but this wind is not playing
with us; cheer up the men to their work; speak
to them cheerily, sir!”
“Furl away!” shouted Wilder. “Cut, if too late;
work away with knives and teeth—down, every man
of you, down—down for your lives, all!”
There was that in the voice of the lieutenant which
sounded in the ears of his people like a supernatural
cry. He had so recently witnessed a calamity similar
to that which again threatened him, that perhaps
his feelings lent a secret horror to the tones. A score
of forms was seen descending swiftly, through an
atmosphere that appeared sensible to the touch. Nor
was their escape, which might be likened to the
stooping of birds that dart into their nest, too earnestly
pressed. Stripped of all its rigging, and already
tottering under numerous wounds, the lofty
and overloaded spars yielded to the mighty force of
the squall, tumbling in succession towards the hull,
until nothing stood but the three firmer, but shorn
and nearly useless, lower masts. By far the greater
number of those aloft reached the deck in time to insure
their safety, though some there were too stubborn,
and still too much under the sullen influence
of the combat, to hearken to the words of warning.
These victims of their own obstinacy were seen clinging
to the broken fragments of the spars, as the
spot where they floated, until their persons and their
misery were alike swallowed in the distance.
“It is the hand of God!” hoarsely exclaimed the
veteran Bignall, while his contracting eye drunk in
the destruction of the wreck. “Mark me, Henry
Ark; I will for ever testify that the guns of the pirate
have not brought us to this condition.”
Little disposed to seek the same miserable consolation
as his Commander, Wilder exerted himself in
counteracting, so far as circumstances would allow,
an injury that he felt, however, at that moment to be
irreparable. Amid the howling of the gust, and the
fearful crashing of the thunder, with an atmosphere
now lurid with the glare of lightning, and now nearly
obscured by the dark canopy of vapour, and with all
the frightful evidences of the fight still reeking and
ghastly before their eyes, did the crew of the British
cruiser prove true to themselves and to their ancient
reputation. The voices of Bignall and his subordinates
were heard in the tempest, uttering those mandates
which long experience had rendered familiar,
or encouraging the people to their duty. But the
strife of the elements was happily of short continuance.
The squall soon swept over the spot, leaving
the currents of the trade rushing into their former
channels, and a sea that was rather stilled, than agitated,
by the counteracting influence of the winds.
But, as one danger passed away from before the
eyes of the mariners of the “Dart,” another, scarcely
less to be apprehended, forced itself upon their
attention. All recollection of the favours of the past,
and every feeling of gratitude, was banished from
the mind of Wilder, by the mountings of powerful
professional pride, and that love of glory which becomes
inherent in the warrior, as he gazed on the
untouched and beautiful symmetry of the “Dolphin's”
spars, and all the perfect, and still underanged,
charmed fate, or that some supernatural agency had
been instrumental in preserving her unharmed, amid
the violence of a second hurricane. But cooler
thought, and more impartial reflection, compelled the
internal acknowledgment, that the vigilance and
wise precautions of the remarkable individual who
appeared not only to govern her movements, but to
control her fortunes, had their proper influence in
producing the result.
Little leisure, however, was allowed to ruminate
on these changes, or to deprecate the advantage of
their enemy. The vessel of the Rover had already
opened many broad sheets of canvas; and, as the
return of the regular breeze gave her the wind, her
approach was rapid and unavoidable.
“'Fore George, Mr Ark, luck is all on the dishonest
side to-day,” said the veteran, so soon as he perceived,
by the direction which the “Dolphin” took,
that the encounter was likely to be renewed. “Send
the people to quarters again, and clear away the
guns; for we are likely to have another bout with
the rogues.”
“I would advise a moment's delay,” Wilder earnestly
observed, when he heard his Commander issuing
an order to his people to prepare to deliver their
fire, the instant their enemy should come within a
favourable position. “Let me entreat you to delay;
we know not what may be his present intentions.”
“None shall put foot on the deck of the `Dart,'
without submitting to the authority of her royal master,”
returned the stern old tar. “Give it to him,
my men! Scatter the rogues from their guns! and
let them know the danger of approaching a lion,
though he should be crippled!”
Wilder saw that remonstrance was now too late;
for a fresh broadside was hurled from the “Dart,” to
defeat any generous intentions that the Rover might
storm, while advancing, and immediately deviated
gracefully from her course, in such a way as to prevent
its repetition. Then she was seen sweeping
towards the bows of the nearly helpless cruiser of
the King, and a hoarse summons was heard ordering
her ensign to be lowered.
“Come on, ye villains!” shouted the excited Bignall.
“Come, and perform the office with your own
hands!”
The graceful ship, as if sensible herself to the
taunts of her enemy, sprung nigher to the wind, and
shot across the fore-foot of the “Dart,” delivering
her fire, gun after gun, with deliberate and deadly
accuracy, full into that defenceless portion of her
antagonist. A crush like that of meeting bodies followed,
and then fifty grim visages were seen entering
the scene of carnage, armed with the deadly weapons
of personal conflict. The shock of so close
and so fatal a discharge had, for the moment, paralyzed
the efforts of the assailed; but no sooner did
Bignall, and his lieutenant, see the dark forms that
issued from the smoke on their own decks, than,
with voices that had not even then lost their authority,
each summoned a band of followers, backed by
whom, they bravely dashed into the opposite gangways
of their ship, to stay the torrent. The first encounter
was fierce and fatal, both parties receding a
little, to wait for succour and recover breath.”
“Come on, ye murderous thieves!” cried the
dauntless veteran, who stood foremost in his own
band, conspicuous by the locks of gray that floated
around his naked head, “well do ye know that heaven
is with the right!”
The grim freebooters in his front recoiled and
opened; then came a sheet of flame, from the side
of the “Dolphin,” through an empty port of her adversary,
bearing in its centre a hundred deadly missiles.
and wildly above his head, and his voice was still
heard crying, till the sounds rattled in his throat,—
“Come on, ye knaves! come on!—Harry—Harry
Ark! O God!—Hurrah!”
He fell like a log, and died the unwitting possessor
of that very commission for which he had toiled
throughout a life of hardship and danger. Until now,
Wilder had made good his quarter of the deck,
though pressed by a band as fierce and daring as his
own; but, at this fearful crisis in the combat, a voice
was heard in the melée, that thrilled on all his
nerves, and seemed even to carry its fearful influence
over the minds of his men.
“Make way there, make way!” it said, in tones
clear, deep, and breathing with authority, “make
way, and follow; no hand but mine shall lower that
vaunting flag!”
“Stand to your faith, my men!” shouted Wilder in
reply. Shouts, oaths, imprecations, and groans formed
a fearful accompaniment of the rude encounter,
which was, however, far too violent to continue long.
Wilder saw, with agony, that numbers and impetuosity
were sweeping his supporters from around him-Again
and again he called them to the succour with
his voice, or stimulated them to daring by his example.
Friend after friend fell at his feet, until he was
driven to the utmost extremity of the deck. Here
he again rallied a little band, against which several
furious charges were made, in vain.
“Ha!” exclaimed a voice he well knew; “death
to all traitors! Spit the spy, as you would a dog!
Charge through them, my bullies; a halbert to the
hero who shall reach his heart!”
“Avast, ye lubber!” returned the stern tones of the
staunch Richard. “Here are a white man and a
nigger at your service, if you've need of a spit.”
“Two more of the gang!” continued the General,
aiming a blow that threatened to immolate the topman,
as he spoke.
A dark half-naked form was interposed to receive
the descending blade, which fell on the staff of a half-pike,
and severed it as though it had been a reed.
Nothing daunted by the defenceless state in which he
found himself, Scipio made his way to the front of
Wilder, where, with a body divested to the waist of
every garment, and empty handed, he fought with his
brawny arms, like one who despised the cuts, thrusts
and assaults, of which his athletic frame immediately
became the helpless subject.
“Give it to 'em, right and left, Guinea,” cried Fid:
“here is one who will come in as a backer, so soon
as he has stopped the grog of the marine.”
The parries and science of the unfortunate General
were at this moment set at nought, by a blow
from Richard, which broke down all his defences,
descending through cap and skull to the jaw.
“Hold, murderers!” cried Wilder, who saw the
numberless blows that were falling on the defenceless
body of the still undaunted black. “Strike here!
and spare an unarmed man!”
The sight of our adventurer became confused, for
he saw the negro fall, dragging with him to the deck
two of his assailants; and then a voice, deep as the
emotion which such a scene might create, appeared
to utter in the very portals of his ear,—
“Our work is done! He that strikes another blow
makes an enemy of me.”
| CHAPTER XIV. The Red Rover | |