University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.
The Conclusion.

We shall now change the scene of our story, to the sea—four days after
the morning on which Grace read the account of the piracy upon the Selma.
It is two hours before sun-set. The wide blue sea below the arching
blue sky above. Nothing else is visible; not a cloud sailing in the azure
fields of air; nor a sail upon the blue watery expanse beneath. A spec all
at once, glistens upon the horizon. It grows larger and higher, and seems
to grow out of the sea like a snow-white plant, with leaves and branches
all white. It increases in size, and takes the form of the top-masts and
sails of a large ship. Her top-sails soar above the blue ocean line, and
shortly after, the dark body of her hull appears; and the distant object
stands forth to the eye, a stately ship of war, in all her proud proportions.
She advances; and as she comes nearer, the forms of men and the tracery
of her rigging becomes visible, and from her open ports, darkly protrude in
menacing silence, a range of iron guns. It is the corvette! She is standing
Eastward, with the wind free on her starboard quarter. Just visible,
aloft, standing on the highest foot-hold that can be attained, is a man—a
mere spec to the eye; whose gaze is bent now, South, now East, now West
now North! Suddenly his voice fills the air in a long cheerful cry:

`Sail ho!'

`Where away?' is shouted back by the officer upon deck.

`In the North-eastern board, Sir! two points forward of the beam!'

`What do you make her?'

`A brig; but I can scarcely see her, as her top-gallant yards dip. She
seems to be standing to the North-west!'

`Square away the yards!' cried the commander of the corvette.

The order was cheerfully repeated by the midshipman, and echoed by
the shrill whistle of the boatswain; and the heavy yards swung round together,
as if by the action of machinery, and the ship was in a few minutes
dashing on her course, in the direction of the strange sail, making full seven
knots by the hour.

The strange vessel kept on her course, and as the corvette was standing
strait for her with one point open so as to meet her, she was soon made out
to be a square-rigged brig, with an exceedingly rakish appearance; and this
discovery gave animation to the officers of the ship of war; for they felt sure
that she was the object of their search. They had however, overhauled so
many vessels in the four days they had been at sea, and been so often disappointed,
that they were not inclined to be too sanguine; although they
knew a vessel answering the description of the pirate, had chased a Liverpool
ship which they had spoken that morning, on the day previous.

Let us now precede the corvette, and draw nearer the stranger. As
we approach her, we recognise the very square yards, rakish indication of
the masts, and low crouching black hull of `La Guerreadora,' the brigantine
of captain Don Florio Torrel, and the self-same vessel which had boarded
the Selma. She is, however, as we look down upon her decks, no longer
full of men. There are but two persons visible on board. One of these,
is a man at the helm; the other a negro lad, who is standing by his side.
They are watching the far distant corvette with axious eyes; and as the vessel
lays as close to the wind, it is evident they are not trying to escape, but
rather edging up into the wind to meet her. Her sails are not so neatly

set as formerly; the top-gallant sails being but two thirds hoisted, and the
top-sails closed reefed, though the wind is but a seven knot breeze, and not
a cloud visible. The yards not braced so sharp as they might be, nor are
they equally set. Although the brigantine presents an unusual appearance
and looks as if she never had a seaman who knew how to sail a vessel, upon
her decks; but this aspect of things can be easily accounted for, if the
man at the helm and the negro boy are the only persons on beard to manage
her. And this is the truth! The person at the helm, is a young man
scarce twenty, with a pale, firm countenance, yet over-cast with care and
anxiety. He is armed with a brace of pistols, and a cutlass, and a half a
dozen more pistols lay cocked upon the binnacle before him. The deck is
stained with blood, and the bodies of four men lie weltering in it under the
windlass. A fetter is passed around the young man's leg; and the chain
pended to it, was fastened up to his belt to keep it from trailing.

He had discovered the corvette before he himself was seen, and had with
the aid of the boy, braced his yards up as well as he could, to meet her, as
he was previously standing north-ward to reach the coast of Maine. He
was now closely watching the approch of the corvette, and when he saw
that she was evidently standing down towards him, his fine face lighted up
with hope and animation.

`We shall soon have done our task, Cubo,' he said to the negro in Spanish;
that ship is an armed vessel, and is approaching us. We shall soon
be relieved, thank God!'

As he spoke, there were sounds of fierce contention below; oaths and
execrations came from the bowels of the vessel, and tremendous blows
were struck against the hatchways, which were fastened down, and a gun
wheeled upon each. Suddenly the sky-light was burst off, and a man thrust
forth his head and one hand. The negro instantly severed the hand with a
blow of his cutlass. A second head was thrust through as the other fell,
and a man forced himself with fierce execrations half through; he fell
back dead, with a pistol ball through his head, and the sky-light was forced
on, and Winter, for it was he, placed himself upon it. Another climbed
from the cabin windows over the taffrail and sprang upon the deck. Winter
met his advance, with a fatal bullet, and the man fell his length across
the deck!

Each minute the corvette came nearer, and each moment the uproar and
voices of rage below rose deeper and fiercer.

`There go the American colours! It is the Concord!' cried Frank. `Now
ten minutes more and I am safe. Ten minutes more and I shall have redeemed
my reputation to my country and the service!'

The corvette was now within half a mile, bearing down under all sail. A
flash from her bows, a cloud of smoke—a report! and a shot came roaring
along above Winter's head, and dashed into the sea a quarter of a mile to
leeward. He immediately put the brigantine into the wind, shivering. In
five minutes the corvette was hove too to windward of her, and an armed
boat put off, and Lieutenant —, whom Frank had fought with at Mahon,
sprang on board. He started with surprise at seeing only two persons
on board, and blood and dead men covering the deck. Frank approached
him with a smile, presenting his cutlass hilt foremost.

`I surrender to you Mr. —, this brigantine with the greatest satisfaction.
I have had charge of her the last twenty-four hours, and feel no desire
to continue my command!'

`Can it be possible? Is this Winter?

`It is!'

`A pirate!'

`No, but the capturer of pirates! In the hold—do you not hear the growling?—are
confined twenty-nine as blood thirsty scoundrels, with their captain,
as ever trod a buccaneer's deck. There were forty, but the rest are

dead in trying to escape. I was their prisoner, as you see by my chains yet
upon me!'

`How happened all this?' exclaimed Lieutenant —, with surprise,
`You claim, captain, and hold in confinement so large a body of pirates!'

`I and this negro lad, Cubo! I was passenger from Marseilles in this vessel
with Barton Ellis. He plotted with the crew, to seize the vessel. I refused
to join him. He took possession of her and placed me in irons!'

`I knew Ellis was a bad fellow!'

`He put into Gibralter, and there shipped a piratical crew, leaving me in
irons, every day at sea to mock me and torture me with insults. After leaving
Gibralter, he hoisted the black flag and took every thing he fell in with
that he could capture. Not satisfied with his prizes off the straits he run
for the United States to lay in wait for the liners. Seven days ago he boarded
a barque and robbed her of her specie and then stood south. They
cruised till yesterday without falling in with anything, when they chased
and captured a brig from Malaga, loaded with wines. They brought an
immense quantity on board, and held a general carouse. About midnight
all was singularly still. The vessel was knocking about with a strange irregular
motion. The little negro, Cubo, who had belonged to the owner of
the brigantine, Captain Torrel, came to me and told me that the men and
captain were all drunk. A thought struck me. He got me a file and I released
myself from the bolt by which I was confined. I then went softly on
deck. Every soul was dead drunk. All but five men were below. These
five I found insensible and despatched them as they lay in their wine. I
then fastened down the hatches, wheeling with strength supernatural a gun
carriage over them. In the same way I secured the fore-castle and cabin,
in which was Ellis. I had previously supplied myself with their weapons.
I then took command of the brig, and as well as I could, got steerage way
on her again; for she had broached to and was all aback. I steered for the
coast of Maine. I have not left my post since midnight. They awoke sober
this morning, and began to struggle fearfully to break upon deck. I
cannot describe their terrible and hellish rage. They have been howling
and struggling almost incessantly, ever since, to break forth, and three they
have got through the cabin windows and sky-lights only to be shot. The
sight of the corvette, you may rest assured, gave me no little joy!'

The lieutenant listened with astonishment at this relation, corroborated as
it was by the presence of Winter and the negro boy alone on deck, and the
enraged howlings of the pirates confined below; who, early aware that a
vessel of war was approaching had made supernatural efforts to escape and
regain possession of their vessel.

We shall now end our story in a few words. In less than an hour every
pirate had been conveyed in chains on board the corvette, Ellis distinguished
from the rest by double irons. He was silent, morose, and seemingly
reckless of the fate that awaited him.

Frank was rewarded for his daring exploit by restoration to the navy, and
a lieutenancy. The following year he led Grace to the altar, the old commodore
giving away his daughter, Ben standing by to hold the commodore's
cocked hat during the ceremony. Frank is now one of the most gallant officers
in the service. He is thoroughly ashamed of his `independence' as a
middy, and is convinced that discipline can only preserve the service from
corruption. The commodore is still teaching Jack his catechism, and as
Ben has learnt him to write after hieroglyphics of his own, there is hope he
may yet turn out with great credit to his two preceptors.