University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX

THE CAPTURE.

—Corsair.

The vessel, in which William Abbot, nominally
as supercargo, had sailed for the bene
fit of his health—which long confinement to
close study had impaired—left the port the
day on which his sister returned with the
sad intelligence of the abduction of the orphan
Fanny. He knew not of it, nor suspected;
for a letter, received a few days before
from his sister, had assured him of the
health and happiness of his cousin, as she
fondly called her.

William remembered with affection the
sweet sister of his exiled friend, for he had
heard her light laugh in his summer holiday
spent with his aunt, and her bright smile had
often rewarded his venturesome ascent of the
tall chestnut-trees, to shake the ripe fruit
into her out-spread hands. Sad and heavy
would his heart have been had be known of
the orphan's misfortune.

The good ship Garland lay tossed in the
Gulf-stream, and ten days the weary mariners
beheld the swift sails passing and repassing
before the favoring gales, while their own
was forced to lay becalmed, or driven at the
mercy of the current in a perpetual circle.
But at last a breeze sprung up, and before it
the ship stood gallantly on her course. William
had passed the monotonous hoars in
thoughts of his distant friends, and hailed
with joy the time when the wind bore the
ship on her homeward passage.

“A sail, a sail!”

“Where away?”

“On the windward.”

It was a Baltimore-built vessel, and she
bore down on them with a race-horse speed,
while her fore-foot dipped in the high waves,
like a dolphin in his gambollings.

“A pirate, by heaven!” cried the captain,
as a heavy lee-gun sent its iron messenger
across his bows, and a bluck flag rose slowly
to the top of the stranger's slender foremast.

“We must fight,” continued he, as he
turned and beheld at his side the youthful
supercargo.

“We must,” said William.

Another gun sent its summons from the
pirate's quarter. Captain Dalton sprang upon
the taffrail, and bailed the stranger through
his trumpet.

“What ship is that?”

“Lay to, or we sink you,” was the thundering
response, and a shot struck the bows
of the Garland.

“Boys! do you hear that?” cried Captain
Dalton; “shall a Yankee ship be taken by a
bloody pirate?”

Three cheers rose from the hardy crew,
and in the twinkling of an eye the signal-guns
were hoisted from the hold, and their
muzzles run through the ship's portholes.
At the same time the arms were distributed
and a dozen men stood on the ships bows,
to repel the boarding attack which they knew
the approximation of the two vessels would
bring on.

The Garland had not slackened her course,
but the light craft of the pirate was already
abreast, and in the wind's eye, was bringing
her broadside to bear.

At once the beavens grew dark with clouds
and a long, loud, distant peal of thunder
shook the sky. There was a heavy flapping
of the ship's sails, as the breeze which had
borne her along died suddenly away, aud she
lay motionless upon the water. The Gulfstorm
was at hand, and a mantle of thick fog
fell around them. At the same instant the
pirate bark hove broadside to, beside the
Garland, and a peal of musketry from a score
of her fierce crew, rattled through the ship's
rigging

It was returned—and the cheering shout of
the brave Captain Dalton, inspired his willing
men. The pirates were two to one, and
their captain, waving a cutlass over his head,
led them to the attack. Three times the
grappling irons rang against the Garland's
side—three times the cry of the pirate chief,
—“Boarders away!”—impelled his followers
to the bulwarks—and three times—while the
thunder rolled above their heads, and the
thick darkness was only lit by the vivid
flashes of lightning that burst from the low
clouds around them—did the brave Americans
beat back their ruthless foes!

The pirate captain gaashed his teeth, as
for the last time he fell back upon his quarter
deck. “Once more!” shouted he; “there's
not a dozen left, to drive beneath the hatches.
Halcions, away!” and the shrill boarding-whistle
was again applied to his lips.

On they bore, and like a torrent poured
over the Garland's side. Dalton and William
fought side by side—the pirate chief
sprang first upon the quarter-deck, and his
cutlass crossed with the sword of the Yankee
captain. Dalton, a strong and powerful man,
bore down upon his antagonist; his blows
fell like rain upon the pirate blade; and the
latter retreated step by step towards the midship
melee. At once a bright flash, and a
quick clap, gleamed and rattled above them,
and the ship's topmast, with its vent flag,
came crashing to the deck; she had been
struck by lighteing. Dalton, astounded,
ceased his strokes, and the pirate's sword fell
upon his head. He sunk upon the deck,
while the shout of the pirate, as he rushed
forward, gave new vigor to his victorious
crew.

Another flash—another peal—and the dark
clouds fell away as suddenly as they had
risen; a stiff breeze filled the unfurled sails,
and, bearing down upon them, the mingled
combatants beheld a Colombian privateer.
The flag of the republic stood out from her
white topmast, and William, springing from
the throng, upon the quarter-deck, waved his
own tarn flag in his hand, and beckoned to
her crew.

But they had already beheld the scene, and
with a sudden bend, the privateer bore down
and hove to, beside the Garland, and while
the iron grapnels fixed themselves in the side
of the Yankee ship, a crowd of Republican
sailors pozred over her bulwark, and attacked
the pirate victors.

The pirates were taken almost by surprise,
and a vigorous rally of the Garland's crew,
forced them to retreat to their own vessel.
William engaged hand to hand with the corsair-captain.
Exeited by the fall of Dalton,
he resolved to revenge it, and pressed hravely
on his opponent. A well directed thrust
the pirate warded off, but as he did so, his
broad slouchy hat fell off, revealed the
face of Richard Martin.

“Ha!” cried William, and, thunderstruck,
his arm fell by his side. The pirate saw his
advantage, and rushed upon him. William
raised his arm, and caught the descending
blow; but his sword flew shivered from his
hand, and he sunk upon his knee.

Martin raised his arm. A shriek was
heard—a woman's cry—and a light airy form
sprang up the companion way. A pistol shot
rang in William's car and he beheld Richard
Martin reel, and fall upon the deck. The
bullet had struck his sword-arm, even as it

was descending on the supercargo's head.—
The next moment, the sister of his lost friend
was in the arms of William Abbot, and a
loud shout from the Colombian sailors told
the pirate crew's surrender.

Before the swift homeward breeze sped the
rescued ship, to the home of William Abbot.
And to her brave deliverer Fanny told the
story of her capture; how the villain had
talked to her of love and had sworn she
should be his; how she had resisted, and
how the cry from the deck of “a sail—ho!”
had summoned the pirate from his prize.
Then she told how the loud roar of the thunder,
the din of the fight, and the oaths of the
wounded pirates had appalled her. And
then, how she flew to the deck, and beheld
the pirate aiming the death-blow at the
head of William Abbot. And William
clasped the fair girl in his arms, and expressed
his gratitude for the timely shot that had
saved his life. Oh, a happy voyage was the
homeward-passage of William Abbot and his
betrothed Fanny