CHAPTER VIII
CHASED BY PIRATES
WE made an excellent run over to China after striking into the southeast trades, and sixty days after leaving the Admiralty Islands we anchored off Hongkong.
I at once went on shore and reported to Russell & Sturgis, and learned that we had arrived in a good time. There were very few ships in port, teas were low in price and very good in quality, and the consignee said that he could secure me some very desirable chops at reasonable rates, and that if we had any room remaining after investing my owner’s silver, that he could fill me up with cargo, on freight, at remunerative rates.
This was indeed good news, and I proceeded to land my specie, which the firm at once invested; and after thoroughly cleaning out and fumigating my hold, a quantity of sampan wood was sent off for dunnage, and we commenced receiving and storing our cargo of tea.
Soon after my arrival I was visited by Captain Archer, late in command of the ship Essex, of Salem. Captain Archer had lost his ship a few months before on a reef while trading among the Fiji Islands, and he was anxious to obtain a passage home for himself, officers, and crew.
As I was very shorthanded, having lost both my mates, Mr. King and Mr. Robinson, whose places I had temporarily supplied from my crew, I was very glad to ship his two officers, and I arranged for his crew to work their passage home in the Mystic. I had a spare stateroom in the cabin, which I placed at the disposal of Captain Archer.
He was a veteran shipmaster, and had been in command before I was born, but he had decided, since his late misfortune in losing his ship, that this should be his last voyage. He had had many years’ experience in the Indian Seas, and particularly in the Fijis, where he had traded for bèche de mer, a marine delicacy which the Chinese esteemed so highly that it was not infrequently sold for its weight in silver.
The captain was full of stories of Thakombau, the savage chief of Bau, one of the Fiji group. This chief was a most terrible old cannibal, who, not satisfied with devouring the enemies captured in his raids on the neighboring islands, frequently ordered the massacre of his own people, when he was desirous of having a grand feast, and they were baked and eaten. “Long pig” he facetiously designated his human sacrifices.
The captain assured me that these dreadful orgies were not, as I had supposed, religious rites, but were simply for the satisfaction of a depraved appetite, and that in the gratification of this taste nothing was sacred.
And yet the captain had succeeded in inspiring a friendship in the breast of this old savage that had caused him to issue an edict making the captain strictly taboo, and no native dared to harm him, while the choicest canoe loads of bèche de mer were brought off to him for trade. Thakombau actually proposed to make Captain Archer a chief and to give him the island of Viti for his very own, but the captain declined the tempting offer.
It must be confessed, however, that this gentle treatment had had its effect upon the captain, who did not seem to think the cannibal chief was nearly so much of a brute as he was generally considered by Europeans.
I can scarcely realize that since that time such a marvelous change has taken place in the condition of the Fijians. The missionaries managed to gain a foothold in the islands soon after the time of which I am writing, and now there are Christian churches in every island of the group, several thousand professing Christians among the natives, absolute safety for white residents everywhere, and cannibalism is utterly unknown!
While the loading of my ship was progressing, in company with Captain Archer I made a visit to Canton, which is about one hundred miles above Hongkong. This was only a couple of years after the siege of Canton by the Triad rebels, and the breaches that had been made by them in the wall that surrounded Canton, six miles in extent, had not yet been repaired.
We passed a week at Russell & Sturgis’s hong, and had a very pleasant time exploring the curious city under the charge of one of his native clerks, who took us into many of the labyrinths of the “Old City” not usually penetrated by the Fanquis, as they called their foreign visitors.
We made many purchases of curios, at prices that would now seem marvelously low, and returned to Hongkong, at the expiration of our visit, loaded down with presents for our friends at home.
Our lading was completed and the hatches calked down early in October, and we sailed on the 10th of the month, in time to take advantage of the northeast monsoon. We were favored with light winds from N. N. E. to N. E. after passing the Great Ladrone, and on the 30th entered Banca Straits, where the wind veered to the southeast and fell very light.
At night we anchored; and as that part of the Malayan coast in those days bore an unenviable reputation for pirates, I not only maintained a regular sea watch, but divided the time with Captain Archer, so that one of us in turn should be on deck all night. And to this precaution, as it turned out, we owed our subsequent preservation from a great peril.
Just before daylight Captain Archer came to me, where I was sleeping on the break of the poop, and aroused me, saying that there were some suspicious looking sails in sight.
I sprang up, and although it was not yet light I could readily see with my night glass two proas coming out from under the land a few miles to the northward.
I at once ordered all hands called, and as the wind had got round northeast, although still light, I immediately got under weigh and made all sail. Meanwhile the proas were standing down toward us, and as the daylight broke it was evident that they were full of men.
The Mystic, as was quite common in those days, carried a couple of 24-pounders, with a fair amount of ammunition, and we had, in addition to the ship’s muskets, the rifles I had purchased in fitting out the schooner at Valparaiso, when I started in pursuit of my runaway ship. So we were unusually well prepared in that direction, and, having Captain Archer’s crew, we were nearly doubly manned.
Still, so far as force was concerned, we were outnumbered by the Malays in the proas five to one. For we could see that they fairly swarmed with men, and it was evident that in a hand-to-hand fight we should have much the worst of it. It would never do to let them get on board of us.
“We shall have to fight those devils, Kelson,” said Captain Archer, “unless the breeze freshens pretty quickly. They are gaining on us hand over hand; and they are getting out sweeps now, I believe. Yes; by Jove they are!” he exclaimed, looking through his glass. “It won’t do to let them get alongside; there are two of them, and they will take us on both sides and carry us by sheer force of numbers! Hadn’t we better open the ball?”
“Yes; I think that fellow ahead is already within safe range. You look out for the ship, and I will try my hand at a shot or two. Now, sir; luff her up carefully, but don’t get her aback, and I will bring this gun to bear!”
The old gentleman went aft and took his stand by the wheel. “Put your helm down, my man; look out, Captain Kelson! Let draw the head sheets! Meet her with the helm; meet her!”
The Mystic came up in the wind, the head sails flapped; I watched my chance, got a good sight with the gun, which was loaded with a solid shot, and pulled the lock-string!
As the smoke blew to leeward I sprang on the rail, and as our ship payed off and the sails filled, the foremast of the leading proa snapped off a few feet above the deck and fell overboard with a great crash, dragging with it the heavy lateen sail!
“Good shot, Kelson!” shouted Captain Archer from the poop; “that fellow has got his hands full of work and is out of the game for the present!” And our men set up a hearty cheer at this sudden and unexpected discomfiture of our adversary.
We supposed that the other proa would heave to and go to the assistance of her companion, but that evidently was not her intention, for she passed her without pausing, and with her sweeps out and heavily manned she bore rapidly down upon us.
I ordered the starboard gun run over on the port side and tried several shots at the approaching proa, but, although I hit her once, I did not seem to inflict any very serious damage, so I had both guns loaded with shrapnel and langridge, and determined to have the fight out at closer quarters.
Stationing both my officers and the carpenter, who was a splendid shot, on the quarter-deck with rifles, I ordered them to pick off the men who seemed to be the leaders, and then waited for the approach of the proa.
When she had crept up within easy rifle range, I luffed the ship up, as before, and getting a deliberate aim at the crowded deck, depressed the guns and fired them at the word, both at once, point blank, reloading and repeating the dose before the smoke of the first discharge had cleared away.
The effect of this murderous fire, at such close quarters, upon the crowd massed upon the proa’s deck was terrific, and the slaughter was frightful. Yet, by some strange chance, the captain, a tall, vicious-looking Malay, stripped to the waist and waving a naked kreese to encourage his followers, had escaped uninjured, and was shouting to his men, to rally them, with the evident intent of boarding us.
Captain Archer had meanwhile filled our ship away, but the wind was light, and before we had fairly gained headway the proa, with sweeps out, shot under our starboard quarter, and a grapnel thrown from her caught in our mizzen channels.
The pirate captain at once sprang forward, and, with his kreese in his mouth, scrambled up our side, followed by a score of his men, and gained the poop deck of the ship!
Abandoning our battery, we gathered in the waist, and I called to the carpenter to pick off the Malay captain. He nodded, and, taking a careful sight, fired, and the Malayan fell dead among his men. Our other riflemen were meanwhile dropping those of the proa who had followed their captain.
Just then the wind freshened, and by great good fortune the proa’s grapnel disengaged itself and she dropped astern.
Calling upon my men, we made a dash upon the few remaining Malays and fairly drove them overboard. I then put the helm down, and as we came round on the other tack and gathered headway, I stood down on the proa, a good wrap full, and striking her fair and square amidships cut her to the water’s edge.
Our victory was now complete, and as the first proa, having disentangled herself from the wreck of her foremast, was coming down, with sweeps out, to rescue the survivors of her consort, I made all sail and kept on my course, leaving them to their own devices.
The next day we fell in with a Dutch man-of-war brig, lately out from Batavia. I reported the affair to her, and she made all sail for the straits in hopes of capturing the pirates, who, if they were caught, would have received a short shrift, for the Dutch were very active in the suppression of piracy in those waters.
The 15th of November we passed through the Straits of Sunda and laid our course to the westward. The wind continued generally from the southeast, but it was extremely variable, and on the 18th it increased to a brisk whole sail breeze, attended with showers and occasional squalls.
That night the barometer went down in a most astonishing manner and the sea rose without any seeming cause, for the wind was not heavy, while the air was close and the temperature unusually sultry.
“What do you think of it, Captain Archer?” said I, as we both looked at the barometer in the cabin.
“I think we are about to have some nasty weather. It would not surprise me if we caught the tail end of a typhoon.”
“That is exactly my idea, captain, and I hope you won’t laugh at me when I tell you that I am going to take in sail and prepare for it!”
“Not a bit of it, my dear fellow. An ounce of prevention may be worth tons of after care. With such a low barometer as that, you are justified in doing anything for the safety of your ship.”
I went on deck at once. “Mr. Ireson,” said I to the chief mate, “call all hands, send down all three of those royal yards, and house the masts. Take in the main-topgallant sail, close-reef the topsails, and put a reef in both the courses. And don’t waste any time about it, sir. The glass is very low and still falling, and I believe that we shall have some heavy weather before morning.”
The mate looked rather surprised at these orders, but he saw that I was in earnest and proceeded to carry them out. The wind soon commenced freshening, but with our double crew the work was speedily accomplished, and by the time that all was snug the wind had chopped round and came out howling from the southward and eastward. In consequence of our timely preparation, however, we were ready for it.
The gale continued to increase, and on the third day we hove to under close-reefed main-topsail and reefed foresail, under which sail the ship made good weather, although the sea was running very heavily indeed.
Just before midnight the wind suddenly fell, and for a few minutes it was almost calm. It was intensely dark, the sky was as black as night, not a star was seen through the dense clouds, and the sails flapped in an ominous manner.
Then, in a moment, as though all the powers of the wind-god had been loosed, the gale struck us with infernal force, accompanied with torrents of rain and the most vivid chain lightning, which played about the ship till it seemed as though she must be on fire; the thunder pealing like a park of artillery!
The two sails we had set bellied, and with one flap fairly blew out of the bolt ropes. For a moment I thought the ship would surely founder, for she went almost on her beam ends, trembled like a live thing, and then, relieved by the loss of the sails, slowly recovered herself and came up again to the wind.
I had been in many severe gales in these latitudes, but I had never experienced anything like the tremendous power of this wind: the waves were fairly beaten down, which had been running half mast high after the three days’ heavy gale.
With the aid of a dozen men we succeeded with great difficulty in getting a stout tarpaulin in the weather mizzen rigging, and this was quite sufficient to keep the ship’s head to the wind.
One by one every sail in the ship was blown from the yards, although they were furled, and, in some cases, storm-furled with extra gaskets. But the wind seemed to cut like a knife, and we could see by the lightning flashes the long ribbons of canvas streaming out and then disappearing to leeward. Had I not seen this I would not have believed it possible.
All of us, officers and men, were lashed to the weather rail, absolutely helpless, so far as our own exertions were concerned, and utterly unable to communicate with each other, as no trumpet could be heard above this wild discord of the winds and waves. No man dared leave his place lest he should be washed or blown overboard.
At about two o’clock in the morning we shipped a heavy sea, and two large, full water casks lashed amidships broke adrift and dashed from side to side, with every roll of the ship, with appalling violence, threatening to stave in our bulwarks.
It seemed certain death for any one to attempt to secure these casks, and yet it was equally certain they would do us great mischief if they were permitted to dash about in this manner.
At last one of them became temporarily blocked by some spare spars and coils of rope in the lee scuppers, and the carpenter, with a life-line attached to his waist, succeeded in staving in one of the heads of the cask, thus rendering it harmless. Watching his opportunity when the other cask came over to leeward, he was equally fortunate and staved it also, to our great relief.
The ship, meanwhile, was laboring very heavily, straining and groaning as she pitched and rolled, as helpless as a log in the heavy trough of the sea, and it was evident that her seams were opening, as we found on sounding the well that there was more than a foot of water in the hold.
“Pray God the gale may break with daylight, Kelson,” said Captain Archer, who was lashed close to me, as he saw the sounding rod drawn up from the pumps.
“Yes, sir, the old barkey won’t stand many more hours of this hammering and twisting. If the gale doesn’t break with daylight I fear we shall never see Boston again!”
With difficulty I worked my way into the cabin, to look at the barometer we had been consulting so anxiously all night. It had certainly stopped falling! Yes, and better still, the surface of the bulb was at last convex! That was at least hopeful. I returned to the deck and reported the news to my companion.
“Yes,” said he; “I really believe the wind has gone down a bit. It is scarcely perceptible yet, but I think I can notice a slight difference for the better. Can’t you sound the pumps again?”
The carpenter again got the sounding rod down, and we anxiously watched his face by the light of the lantern as he measured the wet place on the iron.
“The water has only gained a scant inch, sir,” he reported.
That was reassuring; so we waited more hopefully for morning, and as the first gray light of dawn showed in the east the gale began to moderate, and by eight o’clock we were able to get about the decks again and commence to clear up the wreck.
We found, on inspection, that all our sails were blown away with the exception of the jib and main-trysail. In addition, the three topgallant masts had been carried away, the head of the mizzen topmast was gone, and the fore yard was badly sprung in the slings, while the starboard, or lee quarter boat, had been washed from the davits.
Fortunately we had a new suit of sails below, that I had been keeping for use in coming on our coast in the winter season. These we got up and bent; new topgallant masts were fitted and sent aloft from our spare spars; the fore yard was fished, and by night we were standing on our course all a-tanto again.
We passed the Cape of Good Hope a couple of weeks later, and on Christmas Day we anchored in the roads off the island of St. Helena. Here we sent down the fore yard and bought a new spar on shore and had the bends calked by carpenters, while we overhauled and refitted our rigging with the ship’s crew. This work detained us for a week at the island.
As this was my first visit to St. Helena, I made the usual pilgrimage to Longwood and to Napoleon’s grave. The remains of the great Emperor had been removed to France by the Prince de Joinville a few years before, in 1840, but there were several people on the island who remembered him perfectly during his residence at Longwood, and it was very interesting to listen to their stories and personal reminiscences of General Bonaparte, as they usually called him.
Our repairs completed, we sailed and had a fine run till we came on the coast, when we encountered some heavy weather and head winds, but at last we got a favorable slant, and on Washington’s Birthday, February 22, we sighted Cape Ann Light, and the following day anchored off Commercial Wharf after a voyage of fifteen months, which had been full of adventure and had more than once promised to be most disastrous in its outcome. But thanks to divine Providence, I had been enabled to finish it in safety and with success for myself and my employers.