University of Virginia Library

50. CHAPTER L.
THE DOINGS WITH THE DONS.

The “Happy-go-Lucky” was once more at sea, “walking the
waters like a thing of life.” But she did not walk according to
the desires of her captain. She had head winds. He desired to
run down south, but the winds blew from that quarter; and, before
he had left the port of Ashley an hour, they came on heavily
to blow. To keep her from being blown north, was all that he
could hope for; and the labors of the day were all addressed to
this object. Incessantly was the little cruiser put about, our rover
keeping his eye steadfastly in the direction of Kiawah.

He was troubled. His mind was full of deep anxieties. To
be thwarted, even by a straw, when we have set our souls upon
an object, is to chafe and madden!

“We have but few days left us,” said Calvert to his favorite
follower, Belcher, as he strode the quarter-deck. “These accursed
savages will be upon them at Kiawah! These murderous
Spaniards will be upon them at Beaufort! If this gale last —
this wind continue from this quarter — where shall I be? Where
I can give them no succor!”

“But,” responded Belcher, “have you not had advices sent to
Beaufort?”

“Yes, if any faith can be put in the promise of Governor Quarry!
But he made quite too light of the danger, as it seemed to
me, and has probably done nothing. That a butterfly should be
in commission when a mountain is to be heaved up!”

“Oh! no doubt he has done it, sir. He could hardly, if he
promised you, have forgotten or neglected it.”

“I could hope so — deem so; for I took care to urge the matter
upon him in no moderate terms of entreaty. Yet all will depend
upon his promptness. He would need to send his despatch by
water to Lord Cardross. One periagua might fail. I should
have sent three, in swift succession; so that if one were swamped,
or two, there might be a third chance. But — and it is not easy
to say that any would be in season! The Spaniards once upon
the seas, would take the wind, not heeding any appointed days with
the savages; and this wind, now dead ahead for us, would bring
them rapidly on their way. They might capture and destroy the
settlement at Beaufort, without giving heed to the rising of the
Indians, even though they had concerted with them for a simultaneous
invasion. In the conquest of Beaufort they would need
no help of the savages. It would be an achievement wholly of
their shipping; and, even with the advices of Governor Quarry,
Lord Cardross could not put the place in a state of defence. His
only hope of safety would be in its abandonment, and the escape
of his people to Charleston by land. Then would come the next
danger from the savages. O winds! winds! winds! why do ye
baffle me at this perilous moment?”

And he strode the deck impatiently, heedless of the storm and
driving spray. Then, returning to where Belcher stood, now
joined by old Franks, he said:—

“And there is that danger, the uprising of the red men themselves.
We have but a few days more to spare — not six before
their outbreak; and, unless we can get back in season, the scattered
settlements will all be destroyed, and their people massacred.
There is my wilfully-blind bro—”

Here he checked himself, and looked sternly on his two listeners.
Then, suddenly—

“Does not the wind lull?”

“Blows harder than ever, your honor,” was the reply of old
Franks.”

“What was I saying? Ah! There is the settlement of Kiawah,
the new barony of Sir Edward Berkeley — what shall save
it, and the thoughtless inhabitants, unless we can seasonably arrive?”

“But, sir, I myself carried your instructions to Gowdey, and
the letter to Sir Edward, counselling him to be watchful.”

“Ay, but suppose Gowdey could not get to Kiawah? These
red men are now scattered over the face of the country. He
might find it impossible to make his way.”

“Oh! sir, I 'd stake ten years of my life on old Gowdey as a
scout.”

“Perhaps! But if the cassique will not hear him? If, as
has been hitherto the case, he holds these to be vain apprehensions,
and still persists in his belief in the good faith of the red
men?”

“Then,” said old Franks, something vexatiously — “then he
ought to feel their arrows! Ef a man 's so full of his own conceit,
that he won't hear to reason and ixperience, I 'm clear he ought
to suffer for it.”

“Silence, old man! you know not what you say! It is a virtuous
error in the cassique of Kiawah. It is an error, no doubt;
but it is the growth of a noble heart. Let us not be too free to
use God's judgments! Better that men should suffer, from too
much faith in humanity, than that faith should die out wholly in
the heart of man! No, Franks! let us not speak thus, though
we feel that our fellow is blind and weak, and persists in a foolish
error. We must save men from their errors, if we can; not abandon
them to Fate, because they are foolish.”

“But who 's the cassique of Kiawah, that he should refuse to
listen when wiser men tell him of his danger? He 's but a new-comer
among us, and pretends to know more of these red-skins
than anybody besides. He ought to have the decency to listen to
those who know 'em better. Why, sir, to believe in an Injin is
like trustin' to a shark. He 'll saw through you with his teeth
while you 're a-ticklin' in his ears. Everybody who knows the
breed, knows that you 've got to shoot as soon as you can see
enough of the copper of the skin to drop a bead upon; ef you
stops to ax first what they 're a-wantin', it 's equal to sayin', `Come
and take my sculp!'”

The captain strode to and fro in considerable vexation; then
returning, said to Belcher: —

“Do you know anything of one Ligon? Gowdey has engaged
him as a scout for me, between his castle, Kiawah, and the bay
where we harbored.”

“And he could n't have got a better, sir; he 's first rate: Franks

knows him well. 'T was he that showed me the way over the
country when I came to Charleston first from Beaufort.”

“He 's good as a guide, then? Knows all the country along
the Stono and Ashley?”

“Like a book, sir.”

“He is to meet us at our landing, and to serve us as a guide to
Kiawah from that point. We have to pursue the shortest and
most secret route, by the Stono upward.”

“'T ain't always the shortest that 's the safest.”

“No, indeed! But these are the very objects that he is to reconcile.
Gowdey tells me he can do it.”

“Ef anybody can, he can. I 'd jest as lief have Ligon as Gowdey,
and I 'd as soon have Gowdey as any scout livin'.”

“Well, if the winds will but chop round to east or north, we
shall do!”

And all parties, as if by a common impulse, proceeded, sotto
voce, to apostrophize the winds, after a well-known sailor-fashion.
But, though the gale subsided, the winds remained ahead all day.
The air was thick with rain, and so it continued till nightfall.
The rain ceased after night, but a heavy mist followed, which
continued till ten o'clock next day. The cruiser had probably
been driven, in spite of all seamanship, some thirty miles farther
north. Such were Calvert's calculations.

At ten, however, the wind had slightly shifted, so as to enable
the ship to shape her course a few points nearer. But the airs
grew light and baffling. Suddenly, the lookout from the mast-head
sang out—

“Sail ho!”

“Where away?”

“Due east, sir.”

Here was a new subject of concern. Was this one of the king's
cruisers from New York, obeying the requisitions of the council
of the lords-proprietors, and sent specially for the overhauling of
our rover? It seemed probable.

“Sail ho!” was again the cry from the top.

“Ha! two!” exclaimed Calvert. His hands now promised to
be full. His anxieties increased. But the skies thickened again,
and into fog. The breeze grew more and more languid. A vast
curtain seemed dropped over the whole ocean; objects could not

be discerned beyond the ship's length. The unknown vessels
were lost as soon as seen. They were probably but five miles
distant when first discovered.

“It is easy enough, perhaps, to show them our heels,” he said
to Belcher, “for there are few creatures so swift of wing as our
little cruiser; but we must make our port! We can only run a
certain distance. Kiawah must bring us up. We run for Stono.
At all events, beyond Beaufort we can not go!”

“We can surely run out of sight of any British cruiser in these
waters,” replied Belcher.

“Perhaps! yet the `Southampton' is a fast sailer, and so is the
`Swallow' — she is even faster.”

“Yes, sir; but the Swallow can't weigh metal against ours.”

“What, Belcher! are you, too, thinking of fighting a king's
ship? No, no! we must run from them — elude them, in some
way, and make our harbor.”

It was neither the Southampton nor the Swallow that they saw;
but vessels of even better speed and heavier metal — the “Thunderbolt”
and “Dragon;” the one commanded by Sir Everard Holly,
a sprig of nobility — a baronet of late creation — a creature of
the court, who had never been baptized in salt water, and knew
nothing of his business. The Dragon had quite another sort of
captain; an old sea-dog, who knew his business thoroughly, but
had one infirmity: he sacrificed to Bacchus in the strongest waters.
The lookout of the Dragon had caught a glimpse of the
Happy-go-Lucky, and she signalled to the Thunderbolt, upon which
Sir Everard had his bath prepared and made his toilet. Captain
Pogson at the same moment went below, and swallowed a potent
goblet of punch. These were so many oblations to Fortune!
Both made all the sail they could under the circumstances, duly
stimulated by the reward offered for the capture of the famous
cruiser, and by the persuasion of prize-money besides. But the
fog soon covered the sea, for them as for the Happy-go-Lucky.

The fog lifted again at nightfall; the winds grew more favorable;
the stars gradually began to steal out. The Happy-go-Lucky
was at once upon the wing. Calvert walked the deck. Suddenly
the watch reported—

“Lights!”

“Where away?”

“Right astern! about four miles.”

“Shall we extinguish our cabin-lights, sir?” demanded Belcher

“No!”

Belcher and Franks were somewhat surprised, and both ventured
to expostulate.

“We are but drawing them after us, sir. They both sail well.
With our lights in, sir, we might lose them.”

“We shall be more likely to do so with lights shown. But
they will take the course anyhow. We must mislead them by
our lights.”

The king's ships had first caught the favoring breeze. They
had gained accordingly; but Calvert soon found — for they continued
to show lights also — that they did not gain upon him.

“We can run out of sight of them, if we please; but I would
rather beguile them into the gulf. I do not care that they should
reach Charleston until our work is over.”

“Shall we clap on more sail, your honor?”

“Not a rag! We have enough for our present object.”

“The dem'd impertinent!” quoth Sir Everard; “he shows his
lights, too! He is very complacently dem'd civil, and we shall
knock his dead-lights in for him, I deliberately determine! Do
with your dem'd sails what you will” — to the lieutenant — “but
put on all you can; only do n't let that beast of a tar-coat, Pogson,
throw his skirt in our faces. I do not affect the odor from his
ship.”

“He will pass us, your honor. The Dragon, on this wind, has
the heels of the Thunderbolt.”

“And can you do nothing — is there no way, by dexterously
working this implement here” — pointing to the helm — “or by
putting on sails, to get ahead of this unclean vessel? She has a
savor such as the ark of Noah must have had, with its very-much-mixed
population.”

The marine of England, in the time of Charles II., had fallen
into just such hands, with few exceptions. The Raleighs and
Blakes were extinct.

“We will try, your honor.”

“You will greatly try my honor if you do not; ay, and my
honor's nostrils, too! Faugh! what a most horrid, onion-like
savor!”

But the Dragon would pass the Thunderbolt. Both vessels
carried all the sail they could. And so the chase was hotly urged
until long after midnight; the pursuing and pursued keeping up
nearly the same relative space between them as at first.

Shifting the scene to the Happy-go-Lucky, we find Calvert
still on deck, as the stars began to pale in the growing mists of
the morning. He seemed to drowse, so silent were his musings.
But never mind was more vigilant; never eye more widely awake.
At length he said, referring to a previous order —

“Belcher, has the boat been made ready, with the lanterns?”

“All ready, sir.”

“We have run so many knots the hour, have we not?”

“My count, sir, exactly.”

“In an hour more we shall be off the opening of the Stono.
It is yet three hours to daylight. The mists are thickening. It
will be dark enough for our purpose. Call Lieutenant Eccles.”

The first lieutenant drew nigh.

“Lieutenant Eccles, you will please see to the launch. You
have stepped her mast? And the lanterns are all prepared?”

“All right, sir; all ready!”

“Have your tackle all ready to set her afloat when I give the
signal.”

Calvert mused and strode the deck; Eccles lingered. Soon
Belcher came forward.

“The wind will just suit us; quite enough northing for an off-shore
course, and the sea is smooth enough. If we can send them
wide, after a firefly, but for one hour — ay, half an hour — it will
suffice.”

This seemed spoken in soliloquy, softly; and no sooner was it
spoken, than our rover walked forward, looked over the bows and
gunwale, watched the run of the ship, stepped back to the binnacle
and noted her bearings, examined his watch, and then — some
three quarters of an hour having elapsed since he first questioned
about the launch — he said to Eccles:—

“Now, lieutenant, our hour has come. Your launch is ready,
your lanterns hung? Lounch the boat, and light them; and you,
Hazard, with your own hands, instantly put out the lights of the
ship.”

The thing was done with that regularity and promptness which

marks all the evolutions in a well-managed ship-of-war, and the
report made to the captain. In a few moments after, the boat,
with lighted lanterns at the top of her mast, was borne away,
glimmering and gleaming along the edge of the sea, like a star
rapidly losing its fires in the dawn. At the same moment, Calvert
seized the helm of the ship from the hands of the seaman,
and, under the sudden direction of his arm, she shot aside obliquely
into the darkness; shifting her course, and laying her head
landward, though as yet no outline of the shore was visible to any
eye.

“Our little `Firefly,'” quoth Calvert to the group beside him,
“must make report for us to our pursuers. The wind, as it bears
now, and the drift of the sea (the tide now running out) will keep
her clear of the land. If she swims but a single hour, she will
do her work — she will serve our purpose. We must do the rest.
You, Lieutenant Eccles, and you, Will Hazard, get into the rigging,
and keep sharp lookout on either hand. You, Belcher, get
into the chains, and Franks watch amidships. We shall need all
our eyes in this navigation; for though mine are good, and I have
been a pilot more than once in these waters, the work is sufficiently
perilous and nice.”

“Now I see it all,” quoth Belcher to Franks, as the two made
off together. “These king's ships, ef they be king's ships, will
follow the `Firefly;' and we'll slip into the Stono, and not draw
any eyes after us.”

“It 's dark enough for it,” replied Franks. “It 's a sort of
fightin' in the dark, with the inimy up the chimney.”

“It is that! But the captain 's got the eyes of an owl! He 's
great for pilotage. The place he 's once seen, or the person, he
knows for ever. I 'll risk anything on his eyes.”

“They 're better than mine.”

“To your posts, men!” cried the captain.

They were off in an instant.

“Keep the lead going, Lieutenant Eccles!” continued Calvert.
“Let them make prompt report.”

“Ay, ay, sir!”

“Do you see the lights of the king's ships — how they 're steering?”
whispered Belcher to Franks, as he mounted the gunwale
at the prow, and was stepping into the chains.

“They 're steering, I reckon, as before.”

“Yes, I think so. Ef they should attempt to follow us, I reckon
we shall see them beached before daylight. And the `Firefly?'”

“The critter 's standin' out to sea, and keeps her course like a
sensible thing. Well, Belcher, good luck to him that sees the end
of it!”

“Psho! old fellow, you 're scary! I 'm never scary when the
captain 's at the helm.”

“By the deep, twelve!” was the sonorous cry of the sailor who
heaved the lead.

“She shoals mighty fast, I 'm thinkin', said Franks.

“Oh! the captain knows jest where to put about. He knows
all the soundin's. But go you along the sides now, as he told
you. He 'll know, ef you are not jest where he wants you.”

And Franks went toward the captain.

“By the deep, twelve!” said the lead.

“Shoalin' fast, captain.”

“Just as I would have it, Franks. I think I know where I am
now! Hark, Franks! are you on the lookout there?”

“Ay, ay, sir!”

“And do n't hear the breakers?”

“Not yet, your honor. But we shall soon, I reckon.”

“Take the wax from your ears, old man! I hear them now.”

“Breakers on the lee-bow!” cried Belcher.

“Ha! Well, as I told you.”

“Breakers to windward!”

“Good! We are in the Gut!”

“By the deep, nine!' cried the lead.

“Look out, Franks, for the shore-line!”

“I can 't see twenty yards ahead, your honor.”

“Are you sure you 've got eyes at all! Why, man, do you not
see the white line of the breakers on the lee-bow, here, not a hundred
yards off? And here to windward do you not hear them?
The dogs are barking on both sides of us.”

“Alas! master, I 've no more eyes nor ears for good service.”

“You have hands, however, and head, old fellow. Here, take
the helm, and work it, at a word, while I look out.”

And Calvert ran up the rigging, to the windward side.

“By the deep, nine!”

“Starboard your helm!”

“Starboard it is, sir!”

“Steady — so!”

Here an unusual swelling of the sea! —

“The cross-currents from inshore, of Kiawah, Stono, and Edelano!”
muttered Calvert. “What water have you got there,
Jack?”

“By the deep, seven!”

“Ha! touch and go! We can spare little now. Starboard
your helm!”

“Starboard it is, sir!”

“By the deep, nine!”

“We shall do! There are two more points that ask for seeing
and hearing, and we shall have a floating and free berth. How
lucky that the shoaling is so gradual all along this coast! It
needs but eye and ear, and tolerably smooth water, and one may
feel his way in safety. Now!”

“Breakers to windward!”

“Breakers to leeward!”

“Breakers ahead!”

“Ah, ha! Merry dogs these! — all about us, fellows! But
here is the worst passage. This cursed mud-flat lies just at the
channel's mouth! Now, eyes, ears, all senses, do your duty!
Port, there — hard a-port!”

“Port it is, sir!”

“Helm, there! Port!”

“Port it is, sir!”

“The old sea-dog, without eyes or ears, is yet all bone and
muscle. Once more! —”

“By the deep, seven!”

“Hold on! What water?”

“By the deep, seven!”

“What water?”

“By the deep, six!”

“Starboard!”

“Starboard it is, sir!”

“What water?”

“By the deep, seven!”

“What water?”

“By the deep, nine!”

“Good! All 's right now. The worst shoal and bar are
passed. We have but one other ugly spot, and now the light
thickens. I can see the whole line of breakers. I can trace the
shore-line. I note the sand-hills, and the woods. Ah! here we
are, at the Marsh. Starboard — steady! Port — steady! Starboard!
Keep your course! All 's right. Let her head as she
goes.”

Calvert descended from the rigging, and relieved Franks at the
helm.

“You have been prompt, old man, as if you were but thirty-five.”

“And you 've had the eyes of old Satan, Captain Calvert, I
must say it, gittin' through these cussed sand-banks as you did!
And, even now, I can 't see a good fifty yards before me.”

“Never mind, old fellow. The simple secret is this, that your
eyes and ears have given out a few years before your hands, your
head, or your heart. You have been as quick to answer with
the helm as I to speak. But let me have it now. We are on
our course, just splitting the last two shoals, and all 's plain sailing.
But it needs some eye now, if not ear.”

The little cruiser was soon established triumphantly in her harborage.
There was no more difficulty, and day was about to
dawn. Yet, perhaps, no man but Calvert, of all that crew of
ninety men, good seamen all, could have carried them through
that difficult navigation, in that thick atmosphere. Many times
did old Franks and Belcher draw long and anxious breaths, at
certain points in the passage, even though both of them felt the
most perfect confidence in the captain. They were now all relieved.
The little cruiser was in a well-known bay, with plenty
of water, and every feeling of anxiety was at end.

“And we have two good days to spare!” said Calvert, exultingly.
“But for that lucky shifting of the wind, Jack Belcher, I do believe
I should have gone mad!”

The Happy-go-Lucky was now land-locked. No danger that
the king's cruisers would attempt to follow, even if they had noted
her course, through the sinuous channels which the familiar eye
and mind of Calvert had enabled him to penetrate.

The Thunderbolt and Dragon, pressing all sail, pursued the
false light, and gained upon it.

“Dem the fellow's impudence!” quoth Sir Everard; “he 's not
afraid! He absolutely entreats us to close quarters, and holds
the light for us. Now shall we have fighting to our hearts' content!
But for the unpleasant smell, and the smoke, which occasions
the rheum to affect my orbs of vision, I verily believe I
should enjoy fighting. I like to hear the guns roar, and see the
beautiful flashes! Hark ye, Lieutenant Smudge, is everything in
readiness? Have you the gunpowder and the balls, and are all
your monkeys in hand? We shall have rare work to do, for, wot
you not, this pirate is an embodied devil in a fight! He hath
conquered the biggest of the Spanish dons; and, though I give
no credit to the Spaniard as a fighting-animal, yet shall we be
wise to blow this pirate to the moon at the first broadside. See
that you are prepared to do this! I will, meanwhile, regale myself
with a quaint scene in my `Wycherley.' But, advise me
when we are upon him.”

On board the Dragon, Captain Pogson was more emphatic and
more brief:—

“We gain upon her! D—n and blast the fellow! he means
to give us work! To show his lights to the last! Clear away,
and get ready for action! We are almost within long shot,
now.”

And he hurried below, to regale himself with a rummer of
punch.

Meanwhile, the pursuers clapped on every sail that could draw,
encouraged by that wandering light which flickered before them;
tossing, ever and anon, drunkenly on the billows, but still gleaming
aloft; and steadily going, as if some human will and conduct
were guiding at the helm. The boat, thus drifting, swept away
along the isles of Kiawah, and by Edings's, even while the cruiser
was quietly slipping into her harborage at Stono. The currents
and winds favored its course along-shore, and almost within
soundings, until suddenly the pursuers beheld the light extinguished.

“Ha!” cried Pogson of the Dragon, which vessel was ahead
of the Thunderbolt, “the chase has doused her glim. She begins
to feel less saucy! A sharp lookout now, fellows, at fore and top,

and stand ready at your guns, every man of you, who would have
a hand in the gutting of the pirate!”

But neither boat nor light did they again behold that night;
but they kept on, with every sail spread that could draw, the
wind speeding them with increasing force, now entirely favorable,
until broad daylight, when they suddenly found themselves in the
midst of a Spanish fleet of brigantines and guarda costas, which
had just emerged from the mouth of Port Royal; and, though
the two nations were at peace, saluted them with a warm welcome
of broadsides.

Then the Thunderbolt, spite of her rosewater captain, discharged
her levin; and the Dragon spat her fires, not the less
freely because of Captain Pogson's rummers of punch; and, never
unwilling, the Spanish craft closed in upon the two English vessels,
and poured in their volleys from every side. There were
no less than a dozen of these cruisers constituting the fleet, which
had just finished its work of destruction upon the little colony of
my Lord Cardross at Beaufort. The Thunderbolt had her half-score
of assailants, and the Dragon as many; and they hovered
about the two English ships as so many wolves about the wounded
buffalo. Fortunately, a sufficient space between the consorts enabled
them to work their guns without injury to each other; and
never did the British bulldog show himself more eager, more
fierce, or more formidable, dealing with such unequal force. Fortunately,
too, though so numerous, the Spaniards were of smaller
craft, and carried less weighty metal; but the inequality was still
too great, unless with some equivalent odds of fortune. Sir Everard
was a fop and a fool, but he had nevertheless British courage;
and, though his olfactories revolted at the smell of gunpowder,
his nerves never shrank from the sound of shot. Nor did the
frequent rummers of Pogson render him less willing for, or perhaps
less able in, the conflict. To it they went like tigers, ranging
fearfully on all sides, the Spaniards standing up to their guns
like genuine salamanders, as they had been wont to do ere the
days of the Armada. They were encouraged by their numbers;
and this reconciled other inequalities, as between the weight of
ships and metal. Three fine new brigantines, just out of Havana,
and a score of guarda costas, all well manned and armed, were too
much for the English ships. But the honor of Britain was not
discredited in their keeping. Never was fight more prolonged or

desperate. Sails and rigging were torn to pieces, the ships hulled,
guarda costas sunk, brigantines compelled to draw off and refit;
but still the Thunderbolt and Dragon roared and raged, rampant,
fearfully dealing their bolts, and using their teeth — rending, raging,
destroying, though themselves on the verge of destruction!

This the Spaniards well knew. They were, indeed, great sufferers;
but the question was one of time. Their numbers were
such that, just in proportion to the prolongation of the conflict,
were their chances of success. The English must succumb from
exhaustion. The light craft of the Spaniards could come on, or
sheer off, at discretion. There were always a sufficient number
ready to renew the game, and supply the temporary withdrawal
of others when the battle grew too hot.

And thus, for six mortal hours, did the conflict go on. Sir
Everard, properly caparisoned, in full uniform, stood the fire in
the most conspicuous situation. The powdered puppy, spite of
his eau de luce, and the surly bulldog Pogson, spite of his eau de
vie, kept their posts, notwithstanding their wounds. Sir Everard
was compelled to lie upon the deck; but he had a mattress brought
up for the purpose, and from this he gave his orders. Fortunately,
he had but one order to give:—

“Fight on, my good fellows, and who knows but you will all
be made gentlemen in time!” Pogson was more emphatic:—

“Give 'em h-ll! the bloody Turks! What! shall these blasted
Spaniards pull down an English flag? Pitch the shot into
'em, fellows! Plenty of prize-money and grog!”

The second officer in each ship was a staunch seaman, knew
his business, and had the requisite back-bone. But the fate of
the English ships was certain: they were doomed! They had
been terribly handled. They had lost a large proportion of their
men slain outright, and many more, including their captains, were
hors de combat from their wounds. They had beaten off and damaged
several of the Spaniards. One brigantine had already struck;
but was retaken, and drawn out of the melée, by the guarda costas.
They had slain of their enemies five to one. One stout
schooner or caravel had been sunk — gone down in an instant;
but, spite of all, the result was certain. The English vessels were
almost unmanageable. The sailors were nearly exhausted. The
work had been too heavy even for British bulldogs; the inequality

too great; and they now but feebly responded to the enemy's
fire. He was closing about them; but, like true bulldogs, there
was no thought of surrender. They might be shot to pieces, but
were not prepared to haul down the British lion.

At that moment they had succor. A new champion came
into the field almost unobserved. The Happy-go-Lucky, with
the English standard flying fore and aft, darted in between the
Spaniards and their prey! Her approach, such was the blind
fury of the combatants, had been unnoted, almost to the very
moment when she delivered her fire — both broadsides; and that
one fire, of itself, almost decided the conflict, so exhausted were
both the parties. But how came our cruiser here? Let us look
back six hours.

Scarcely had she made her harborage in Stono bay, when the
watch cried out —

“Boat ahoy!”

One boat, and then another, and another — three, four — all
full of wretched fugitives from the Scotch colony of Beaufort.

The Spaniards had sacked the place, and destroyed or dispersed
the colonists. Some had got safely from the island to the
main; some were, no doubt, sheltered in the swamps and thickets;
and others had fled, like these, with oars and sails, taking the inland
passage for Charleston.

By the time this news was digested, Harry Calvert was in a
stern passion, and it was broad daylight. The sails of the Happy-go-Lucky,
just furled, were once more spread to the wind. Fortunately,
the wind was sufficiently favorable; and, by noon, as
we have seen, the little cruiser had reached the scene of conflict,
and, as we know, not a moment too soon.

All hands had been sent to quarters without beat of drum; the
guns shotted and run out; everything made ready: and, as she
darted between the Spaniards and the two exhausted bulldog Englishmen,
who were the only parties that did not know they were
beaten, the effect was magical. Ranging alongside two of the largest
of the brigantines, she delivered her powerful broadside from her
big-mouthed brass pieces — the Long Tom thundering over all
and through all, with terrific effect! Then, forging ahead, she
tacked in a twink, and poured in a second broadside from the other
battery, before the Spaniards could bring a gun to bear. Down

went royal, top, and mainmast; then crashed the timbers; then
rose up, in awful clamors, the cries of mangled men, while the
joyous shouts of the Dragon and Thunderbolt shook the welkin!

The two ships, thus battered, lay almost as helpless as their
British enemies. The third brigantine sheered off, clapped on all
sail, and strove by agility to escape vengeance. But the saucy
cruiser was upon her next, and fastened to her as closely as the
remora to the whale. A sharp and sanguinary action followed.
The Spaniard showed good blood, but she had already been partly
crippled by the Dragon, and she worked heavily. In twenty
minutes a cloud mantled her; then came a hiss; then a roar; and
the skies were darkened, and the deeps shaken to their very hollows,
by the explosion! She was blown to atoms; and incontinently
all the smaller craft, the guarda costas and caravels, were
in full flight, gliding off for the shores and shallow water.

Calvert ranged once more beside the two half-disabled consorts
of the perished brigantine, prepared to renew the punishment; but
their flags came down at his approach! Drawing nigh the English
ships, he demanded, through his trumpet, if they had men
enough to man the prizes, which were now drifting beside the
conqueror.

“Ay, ay! give chase — give chase!” was the answer; while
both Thunderbolt and Dragon sent their boats to secure the prizes.
Calvert hauled off to a decent distance, and waited just long
enough to see that they had full possession, when he cried again,
through his trumpet —

“Do you want any help?”

“No! thank you! no! But what are you?”

“The Happy-go-Lucky privateer, of England, Captain Harry
Calvert!”

“The h-ll you are!” roared Pogson of the Dragon.

“Ah! very curious — very mysterious — by my faith!” cried
Sir Everard Holly.

And both captains began to order their men to the guns, as
about to commence a new action.

But the Happy-go-Lucky was again on the wing, in seeming
pursuit of the fugitive vessels of the Spaniards. But Calvert had
no real purpose of pursuit, and followed not far. He simply sought
to fetch a sufficient compass about the English ships — to lose

them briefly — so that his own course should not be conjectured.
He knew that the work of securing the prizes, and refitting, was
one to consume some time; and naturally enough concluded that,
this done, the consorts would immediately proceed — however ungenerous
the duty — in pursuit of himself! He ran out to sea,
accordingly, till fairly out of sight, and on the edge of the gulf;
then put about, and shaped his course, as fast as he might, for his
secret harborage in the Stono.