University of Virginia Library

30. CHAPTER XXX.
THE JOLLY ROGER.

And, closing his eyes, our rover sank almost immediately to
sleep, awaking at the very moment which he had designated.
Such is the force of habit with all persons who are accustomed to
keep vigil, and are compelled to seize capricious moments for the
relief of Nature in her exhaustion.

Having given Belcher instructions in respect to his route, and
warned him to guard against all chance encounters, whether with
red men or white, Calvert shook the hand of that faithful follower;
and, mounting their horses, the two went different ways, Belcher
taking his progress toward Gowdey's block-house, and Calvert
shaping his route for the barony of his brother.

Once there, he was careful to conceal his steed in the deepest
coverts, yet convenient to his reach; then he walked forward till
the grounds of the new settlement began to appear through the
woods.

His first object was to visit the tree in which the sheaf of arrows
had been deposited by Cussoboe. He found a second shaft
broken, as he expected. As before, he supplied its place. Then
he resumed his espionage upon the premises.

He soon caught a glimpse of his brother, the cassique; saw him,
still impetuously busied with his workmen; and, in the course of

his watch, noted the Indian boy, wandering about the settlement,
accompanied by Grace Masterton; she rather leading him than
he her, and eagerly challenging his observation to the thousand
wonders, in her eyes, of that primitive world which she now for
the first time inhabited.

Let us leave Calvert to this espionage, which shall not profit
him greatly, even though he may satisfy that curiosity — if we
may describe, by such a word, the mood which prompted him —
which was perhaps the only object of his watch. It was a wasting
care which possessed him; and his eye grew dim, and his
face pale, and his heart sank within him, while his watch was protracted.
His was the nature which required great physical exertions
to work off the stimulating passions which excited him;
and, lacking these, during the hours devoted to this unprofitable
employment, his excitements grew momently more powerful, and
told upon his frame. His movements were marked by a nervous
and irregular energy; his action was spasmodic; he started now
at every sound in the woods; he found his fancies active, as it
were, in the mood equally of experience and judgment; he felt
himself no longer the cool, deliberate master, of either his situation,
his resources, or his own moods. It was only when he could
throw himself into the interests of others, while planning for his
ship, people, or the colony — working in concert with Gowdey and
others, in anticipation of danger — that he felt reassured on the
subject of his own manhood. More than once a strong impulse
seized him to dart forward, join his brother, denounce him where
he stood, no matter in what presence, and have any issue with
him which should effect a crisis; or to grapple with the tools of
the workmen, and lose his intellectual nature in the mere brute
exertions of his physical.

We will suppose a week to pass in these employments: by day,
in surveillance of the barony; by night, in riding to Gowdey's,
passing over to the city, or cantering up to the cruiser where she
still lay in her snug harborage up the river. The tides happened
to be low, however, the winds were ahead, and there were reasons
why the Happy-go-Lucky should not yet change her position.
When Calvert now visited the ship, he did so on horseback;
but he took care to leave his horse in the woods, to approach
stealthily, and never appeared on shipboard. His visits were

unsuspected, save by one of the crew, who, previously counselled,
knew where to expect him, and had learned to distinguish his
whistle in the thickets from that of any wandering bird.

From this person our rover gathered a certain knowledge
nightly of what was done in the ship. But, though he heard
much, he heard not all. There were still some things beyond the
scrutiny of Bill Hazard — such was the fellow's name, or nom de
guerre. The factious lieutenant, Molyneaux, was working in secret,
with a degree of circumspection, the credit of which was due
to one of his accomplices rather than to his own sagacity. This
was an old sea-dog, a genuine pirate, who, having served an apprenticeship
among the “Brothers of the Coast,” as the pirates
called themselves, was by no means satisfied with the less exceptionable
practices of one who still claimed to sail under a quasi
commission of the British crown. He, it may be said here, was
the original tempter of Molyneaux. He found him impatient of
control, eager for action, anxious to be in sole authority, and especially
jealous of his superior. The old sailor took the full
measure of his man, and laid his baits accordingly. He found
him accessible enough; and, though insinuating his temptations, at
first, with sufficient caution, it was very soon easy to speak openly.

Sam Fowler, alias “Squint-eye Sam,” became the right-hand
man, the chief counsellor of Molyneaux, and his agent for disseminating
treason among the crew. He had won over a goodly
number, though but few were admitted to the more private councils
of the two heads of the conspiracy. The plot had been some
time in progress, and never standing quite still at any time since
its first inception. It had been broached between the lieutenant
and Sam several months before, and while they lay at Tampico.
But it had never been so thoroughly matured as now, when the
captain, and his satellite, Jack Belcher, were so frequently absent.
And now, such had been its progress to maturity, that the frequent
question, with all the guilty parties, was simply as to the proper
moment for firing the train which they had so skilfully laid.

It was a dark night, when Molyneaux made his way stealthily
from the ship to the shore, and buried himself from sight among
those mighty trees in which the fair Zulieme had roused up all
the sylvan echoes, by her joyous laughter, as she danced, capered,
swung, when the vessel first ran into her harbor of seclusion.

Here, at a spot which had been already too frequently used for
the purposes of conspiracy, he was joined, at intervals, by some
five of the more intelligent seamen who had been won over by
the arts of Sam Fowler. Each was challenged as he came. He
gave no name — only a pass-word; and, squat in the covert, they
proceeded to report progress severally, and to discuss the plans of
the future.

But where is the chief agent in the treason? Sam Fowler is
not present. He is, however, momently expected.

He was even then in the breach of orders; had been despatched
to the city secretly the night before, in a skiff, with two stout rowers,
on a mission which concerned a variety of illegal interests.

The rogues had stores of their own for which they sought a
market. They, too, had emissaries in the town, as well as their
superior. They had passions and appetites, for which the town
could afford the only proper theatre; and they had a mission to
execute, on behalf of Molyneaux himself. All parties were accordingly
impatient for the return of Sam; and what discussion
took place among them before he arrived, was confined mostly
to topics which had been on the tapis long before. But, among
conspirators, iteration is an essential necessity for confirming them
in a purpose which implies no small peril.

At length, Sam Fowler came, stealing through the thickets like
a catamount. He soon made his way into the circle. The boat
had been left hidden in the rushes a quarter of a mile below. The
old sailor took his place among the brethren with the freedom of
one who knew his importance.

“Some grog, fellows, 'fore I begin. I 'm as blasted thirsty as
the chap as was in Abraham's buzzom. The Jamaica 'gin out
five miles below; not a blasted sup after that! And, somehow,
't was short commons in town; I had to lie so close. 'T wan't as it
used to be there.”

The liquor was soon provided. Conspiracy, and among pirates,
is wonderfully helped by its potations. The supply of grog was
abundant. Long, and strong, and deep, was the draught taken by
the old sea-dog, whose sentences, by-the-way, were so larded with
oaths as to render them only in part intelligible. We shall strip
them of most of his weeds of rhetoric. When he had fairly concluded
his draught, which was taken with exceedingly deliberate

gusto, and wiped his mouth with a gorgeous bandanna, Sam condescended
to enlighten his brethren.

“I 've sold your plate, Jordan; your silks, Foster; your tobacco,
Rollins. Got the cash for 'em. You shall have it when we
empty the boat. Done a pretty good business, considerin' that
the honest traders always make out to cheat the free bretheren.
And they say prayers while doin' it. But that 's no matter, neither
here nor there. We ixpects as much: always ixpect to be
cheated when the trader makes a prayer while makin' a barg'in.
They 're mighty vartuous and religious, on a sudden, in Charlestoon.
The old church was bad enough in its goodness; but these
Dissenters, as they calls 'em — and town 's full of 'em — they 're
the d—dest rogues that ever lied in the name of God! It
a'most turns my stomach when I has to deal with 'em. I ixpects
to be cheated; but this callin' in o' God to be a witness, as it were,
ag'in himself, is worse than any Spanish practice. But there 's
no helpin' it. We has to do with 'em, or we can 't trade. Now,
Sproulls, the man I deal with, he 's about as good as the best; but
though he grins at his prayers, jest as ef he was a-cheatin' the
Lord himself, he can 't no more help prayin' than he can fly. I
jest said to him, `Shut up your oven, and say no more prayers
if you please;' but he kept on jest the same, sayin', by way of
ixcusin' himself — `It 's no use to try, Fowler; I can 't help it,
and it don n't mean nothin'! It 's only a way I 've got.' And
jest so I answered him when he wanted to put a clapper on my
mouth for swearin'. Says I, `Them 's my prayers, and they do n't
mean no more than yours. It 's jest a way I 've got.' Then he
showed his teeth ag'in, jest like a shark in shallow water among a
school of mullets, and we went on with our trade till the cheat
was over.”

“Did you see Franks and Sylvester?”

“Did n't I see 'em! But I was n't sich a dummy as to let 'em
see me. Sylvester 's got religion in all his garments: he shakes
it out as he walks. His hat 's got religion; his coat; his breeches;
the tie of his cravat; and I think his nose has got a good inch
longer and sharper from the new vartue that 's in it! He 's all
over religion; and sich a sample of it, that there 's no more trustin'
him with a trade than trustin' your finger in the gripe of a
stone-crab. Franks ain't so vartuous; but my business was to

watch him and make out what I could, without lettin' him overhaul
me with his eye. He' as close as he 's sharp, as you all
know, and I reckon is true to the captain as a trump. Of course,
't would n't do to let Franks or Sylvester know that I was in
town; for I reckon that both of them 's in the captain's books, jest
as deep as ever. I 'm not supposin' that any religion of either
will do much to stop a trade if they can make it.”

“Did you get sight of the captain?” asked Molyneaux.

“No! and I had all the lights out, too. I tried my best to get
into his wake. But he carries no flag. I could n't hear a word
from Sproulls, though he was monstrous curious with me, and I
reckon was jest as curious with all other persons. It 's clear that
the captain, wherever he is, keeps mighty close; and there 's reason
for it. There 's a big price offered for him, so I hear tell,
though there 's no open proclamation yet! Sproulls was quite
curious to get out of me what he could. `Where was the ship?'
he asked. `Over the bar,' was my answer. `I 'm jest sent up
with the boat to get medicine, and I took the chance to sell off a
little prog.' But that 's not enough for him; and ef he 'd ha' had
a chance, he 'd ha' had a spy at my heels, I 'm thinkin', ef 't was
only to get wiser on a poor man's secrets. He 's curious, that
Sproulls. He 'll not blow so long as the profit comes in; but
he, too, is gettin' more and more vartuous from what I know'd
him a year ago — and that made it only the worse for my
barg'ins. He did cheat me worse than ever this time. You 'll
see, fellows, by the bills, when I settle. There 's a sort of
fashion of religion now, 'mong all the people in town; and you
get less money and more preachin' for your goods than I 've ever
know'd before; but there 's a better chance, for that very reason, of
finding friends for sich a trade as ours. The more they can make,
the more vartuous the business; they 're all hot ag'in the king's proclamation
ag'in pirates. They say — and that 's true — that we 're
their best friends ag'in the Spaniards. Sproulls said we might
come up to the wharf, and nobody would trouble us among the
people, though he did confess that the governor and council were
sich bloody fools as to talk of minding the king's orders. I reckon,
from what I seed and heard, that we might haul up the Happy-go-Lucky
right ag'in the town battery, and nobody ever think to p'int
a cannon at her. The captain's gettin' scary without any 'casion.”

“Yes, indeed; something 's the matter with him here,” replied
Molyneaux, scornfully, touching his forehead with his finger.
“He could fight once, boys, bravely enough; but ever since he
had that knock-over from the Spanish splinter, he 's been weak in
the upper story: ay, and in the heart too, or he would n't care a
button for the king's proclamation. Why should we fear the
king's proclamation any more than we do his cruisers? We can
trip the heels, and, yard-arm to yard-arm, muzzle every gun in
her own porthole, in the very best of them; yes, and give them
the advantage over us, five guns a side. But for the captain's
cowardice, fellows, we might be gutting the Spanish galleons
now!”

“And we will be doin' it soon, too, if other men have their
hearts in the right places,” said Sam Fowler, significantly.

“The sooner the better!” was the common answer.

“And if the courage be all, men,” quoth the lieutenant, “I can
answer for one, who will never back out from any don that ever
sailed the gulf.”

“Ay, indeed!” responded Sam Fowler. “That 's all well
enough — all right enough, lieutenant; but there 's not enough of
it. It 's not the dons only that we must n't show our backs to;
it 's not the Spaniards only that we 've got to face! I 'm bold to
say that ef we are to do the right business, we must muzzle a
king's cruiser, and the marchant of any nation, jest as bold as we
muzzle a don — and ef only to show that we 're not guine to let
ourselves be muzzled by any of 'em. I 'm for a free flag of our
own, even if we have to hang out the `Jolly Roger!' Ay! I 'm
not afraid to speak it. Run up the `Jolly Roger,' say I; and I
drink to `The Jolly Roger' for ever! Here, boys, is to the
`Brothers of the Coast' — the free life, the black flag, and death
to the traitor and the coward that 's afraid to fight under the Jolly
Roger!”

There was a murmur of excitement. It might be enthusiasm.
With some of the parties, no doubt the bold speech of Sam Fowler
was in considerable degree contagious. But it is doubtful whether,
before this meeting, the conspirators had been prepared to run
up the black flag. They had mostly contemplated nothing more
than running away with the ship and getting a more flexible captain.
To defy the laws of nations openly, and at a season when

the cruisers of Britain and Spain were everywhere on the alert
against piracy, required no little audacity; and it is probable that
the speech of Fowler would have fallen cheerlessly upon the
senses of not a few of the conspirators, had it not been that it was
so promptly seconded by Molyneaux. That unhappy young man,
eager for power, arrogant in his vanity, and not a little warmed
by strong drink, acting upon his highly-inflammable nature, echoed
the toast of Fowler with additions; rising to his feet, seizing the
cup from the hands of the latter, filling it to the brim, drinking its
contents to the bottom, and flinging the vessel over his head into
the thickets, as he cried aloud —

“Hurrah for the Jolly Roger! the Jolly Roger for ever!”

“Your hand upon it, lieutenant!” said Sam Fowler; “but you
need n't wake up the woods jest yet! It 'll be time enough for
that when we feel blue water under us. Stand round, fellows
— all round, and j'ine hands! And now, here we are, brothers
of the coast, sworn to one another ag'in all the world. Them
that 's not with us is ag'in us! Swear, fellows! and all cowards
and traitors to the sharks!”

There were no more murmurs. The conspirators were grouped
together in a circle, and joined hands, while Molyneaux stood in
the centre, with weapon drawn, upon which they all swore horrible
oaths of fidelity to one another, and to the more horrid purposes
of crime for which they stood leagued together. This done,
Sam Fowler suddenly shook out over their heads the folds of the
black flag, prepared for the purpose; dark as night; with a bloody
fringe; and, wrought in ghastly white in the centre, a skull and
crossbones — the usual insignia, in those days, of the pirate banner.

He lowered it among them.

“Every man kiss the `Jolly Roger!'”

And with a chill probably at the hearts of most of them, each
of them in turn embraced the gloomy flag, and pressed his lips
upon the ghastly emblems of mortality which it bore!

“It 's as good as sworn, fellows,” said Sam Fowler. “As good
as sworn, I say: all hell looking on, and fires of sulphur lighted
for the coward and the traitor that deserts the flag of the true
`Brothers of the Coast'! We are sworn to one another through
thick and thin; and we 're the men to stand by one another, till
all burns blue! But for a time, boys, a keen eye, a quick hand,

and a close tongue! We 're not out of shoal water, remember.
But it 's only the length of an oar, and there 's sea-room enough.
Hearts up — eyes wide — and hands ready! One drink round, I
say, fellows, to the `Jolly Roger,' at the mast-head of the Happy-go-Lucky!”

And the liquor went round; and, even as they drank, Sam
Fowler kept the fatal flag in motion over their heads, as if, woven
under some troubled sign, it was supposed to be endued with the
power to exercise a demoniac influence over the souls of those
who had sworn to serve under it.