Down on the well-deck they fought; and an ill-matched fight it was. A giant of a negro with a heavy cutlass which he swung murderously, but with little skill, against a lithe parson whose thin point of steel kept the scythelike blade confronting him doing nothing but slashing the air, so that although the negro tried to attack and carry it by sheer weight, the needle-point of Syn's sword drove him back step by step. When they perceived that the negro's strength was of no avail, Syn heard the pirates arguing whether or no they ought to interfere. The most of them were for keeping to Brotherhood rules, which state that a fight between two antagonists must be fought fairly, but to the death. One rascal, disagreeing, tried to trip up Syn as he advanced. Syn turned like lightning; passed his sword through the man's neck, and drew it back just in time to meet the negro's next charge. He more than expected that they would rush him for this, but was relieved to hear several cry out that it served the fellow right, and so the wretched man was left to bleed away his life upon the deck.
After this incident, Syn resolved to keep such favour as he had gained by quick action, and to terminate the fight spectacularly upon the plank itself. So, feigning to be weary of such a clumsy swordsman as the negro captain, he redoubled the speed of his lunges, and every time he let the blade prick the flesh, driving his man before him to the plank. Each time the tongue of his sword bit flesh the negro slashed at it in rage, and with such force that one blow might well have broken the more fragile weapon. But Syn avoided every stroke with ease, and still drove the maddened captain back. At last the gangway was behind him.
“A little to your left, now,” said Syn calmly. “Feel backwards with your heel. Excellent fellow! Do you feel the plank? That's right. Well, you go along it backwards, for I have a mind to fight you upon it. You will at least afford a novel entertainment to your jolly dogs.” And so, inch by inch, he pressed him out, till both were on the plank, cautiously balancing as they fought.
“Steady,” warned Syn. “If you wobble like that you will be overboard, and we shall have to finish our fight in the water. And, my faith, that is a good idea.
A sword-fight in the sea is something new. Hold your cutlass tightly. Back, back, back.”
Doctor Syn, to show the pirates the light regard he held for danger, then began to sing, and the words he used were those which had come into his brain so long ago in Romney Marsh.
“Oh, here's to the feet what have walked the plank!”
The negro, still driven back, could no longer swing his cutlass for fear of falling from the plank. Instead he tried to take a lesson in fencing from his opponent, and use the point. But though he had a long reach, it was of no avail, by reason of the dancing, darting blade of Syn.
And then the negro felt the point pressing his breast-bones. His heels were already on the edge of the plank. Quickly he turned, and jumped. Prepared in time, Syn kept his balance wonderfully, till the board ceased to vibrate. Then, quite calmly, he stopped, still balancing cautiously, took off his buckled shoes, and threw them on deck. He then peeled off his coat, rolled it into a bundle and shot it after the shoes. His scabbard and pistols followed, which he saw the pirates scramble for as he loosened his cravat. As he did so, he noted that the dying man upon the deck was drinking from a rum bottle, but at that moment his eyes glazed and his teeth bit through the neck. This incident, and the fact that he had seen numerous corpses floating between the two vessels, gave him the inspiration for the rest of his chanty, and rolling up his sleeves he sang:
“Oh, here's to the feet what have walked the plank, Yo-ho for the dead man's throttle.
And here's to the corpses afloat in the tank, And the dead man's teeth in the bottle!”
Then, without waiting to see what effect it had upon the pirates, he used the plank as a diving-board, running along it, and with a crashing spring upon the end dived head foremost into the sea, his sword straight before him. He came up almost as soon as his head was under water, and with blade extended like a swordfish, he glided rapidly through the water with a strong one-arm stroke.
The negro, well used to water, was yet a slow, clumsy swimmer, so that Syn was able to gain upon him rapidly, and it was but halfway between the two vessels when the negro felt the prick of Syn's blade upon his shoulder, challenging him to turn and fight. In desperation he turned, trod water, and slashed with his heavy weapon, hoping to beat the long blade from Syn's grasp.
Then followed the strangest duel that could be fought. Borne on the gentle swell, one higher now, one lower, up and down in turn, they thrust and splashed—the negro desperately slashing, sinking, spluttering, but always rising to a fresh attack; Syn, calm, but quickly pricking when the negro came too near.
Suddenly Syn was aware that a pirate from the Sulphur Pit was jumping from the bulwarks to the rescue of his captain. With a long knife in his teeth, he swam rapidly towards them. Syn knew that the two would be too much for him, and that he must kill the negro first. Aware of help at hand, Black Satan turned, swimming in a half-circle, to put his adversary between them. It was then that a cry of horror was raised from the pirates on both ships, for the great fin of a man-eating shark, attracted by the unusual feast of corpses already awaiting him between the vessels, came skimming towards the two combatants. Syn, knowing that the other pirate was striking out rapidly behind him, seized the crest of the swell and with a tremendous effort drove his sword out and head down-wave, straight at the negro below him. There was a spurt of blood discolouring the water, and then the swell rose again, with the negro this time on its crest, but pierced through the heart by Syn's long blade. Syn wrenched to free it, in order to turn and do fresh battle with the other pirate. But as the body of the negro sank, the blade was wedged, and just as Syn was about to leave in order not to be dragged down, the legitimate pirate of the seas swept towards and at him, in a streak of white foam. He saw the black back turn as the creature dived, and the flash of the white belly beneath him. The great jaws opened and snapped. He felt a mighty pull upon his sword, and then he was free, with the weapon still in his hand, while a track of reddened water shot away some thirty yards to end in a churning maelstrom as the shark sank with his prize.
One of his enemies disposed of, Syn now turned to face the other, the pirate with the knife between his teeth. He vowed that he would at least get him before it was his turn to fall a victim to the shark. He rose on the swell and looked around. There seemed to be no other fin in sight. The huge wolf of the sea that had so obligingly freed his sword for him was no doubt a lone-hunting shark. But the human shark with the knife between his teeth was near at hand, swimming at him and unafraid of sharks. Syn trod water and awaited him.
“Come on,” he cried. “This is a new sport: spitting pirates and feeding sharks by hand and skewer.” His new opponent came nearer with a grin. He then trod water like Syn, and taking the long knife from his teeth said pleasantly, “Good morning.” Syn laughed aloud. The situation was incongruous, and the remark so out of place despite the lovely day about them. He liked the rascal's sense of humour.
“Aye, it's a grand morning for a fight,” he laughed, wondering whether the fellow would dive beneath him and stab up, or risk all with a fling.
But the pirate seemed in no hurry to do anything but smile, till Syn demanded:
“Are we waiting for the shark to return with an appetite, or are we fighting?”
“I have a score to settle with you,” replied the pirate.
“For killing that damned nigger?” asked Syn. “How could you as a white man have brought yourself so low as to serve under such a man?”
“Black Satan had his qualities, as you might say,” returned the pirate.
“Useful enough at terrifying peaceful folk and getting at their treasure. But he wouldn't have lasted very long. I had already planned a mutiny against him, and 'tis like as not that had you not killed him for me I should have done so myself. But now as to our score. It's a long cry from here to Romney Marsh, and I owes you a little matter of three spade guineas, two crowns and a silver fourpenny. And for that sum of money, which helped me on my way to Portsmouth safe from the ruddy Customs, I promised that if you gave up the pulpit, Doctor Syn, went a-voyaging, and fell into my hands, you should not walk the plank but the poop-deck, with a sword at your side and a sashful of pistols. And here it seems we be, just as we thought might happen.”
“By gad it's Mipps!” cried Syn. “The little smuggler on Lympne Hill.”
“Quite right, sir, and very pleased to meet a Syn o' Lydd this nice bright morning in mid-ocean. Give us your hand, sir, and how d'ye do, and let's get back to the ship and have a brandy before the old shark comes back and interferes.” It was then that the pirates saw a strange sight, for the swimmers, changing their weapons to their left hands, shook hands together so violently with their right that the water splashed and splashed again. Then side by side they swam towards the pirate ship, Mipps bawling out to his men to stand by the rope ladder for “two ruddy Admirals comin' aboard.” They climbed the ladder none too soon, for the shark was back again in the fairway between the two vessels, tearing at one of the corpses that had walked the plank. But Mipps cared nothing for sharks. He was bent on getting a favourite reception for his one time patron with the pirate crew. He climbed up first, whispering to Syn to follow, and to take his lead in all he said.
“Black Satan's dead, my lads,” he cried out, as soon as he had helped Syn to the deck. “And it is my gallant friend here who has saved us from what would have been a bloody mutiny. We all agreed as how the nigger had been over-areachin' of hisself of late; and why should men of brains serve under what was only brawn and muscle? Now, I can vouch right here and now for this man.
You've seen him fight. You've seen him give Black Satan to that ruddy shark.
And did it very neat, you'll allow. His name is Syn, and Syn's as good a name as Satan. Now, I propose we celebrates our victory over the ship yonder in the usual way. Double rum for all hands. Then we'll divide the plunder into portions as agreed and split Black Satan's share. But let me tell you this. We ain't got a more valuable bit of plunder off that there ship than this 'ere man.
Used to be a parson till he couldn't stomach it no more, and so come out here to find me and the way to go a-pirating. I owes him my life for saving me from the Customs officers who was about to hang me, till he steps in and knocks 'em all to hell, parson though he was. I now advises you one and all to shake hands on his friendship, for if you don't, God help you. He's willing to join us, and when you know him better you'll say we're lucky to get him. So serve the grog, then for the plunder, then we'll decide the fate of the ship yonder and also vote a new leader in Black Satan's place.”
“Faith, the sooner you serve me with rum,” said Doctor Syn, “the sooner will I be pleased. When I have drunk, I am willing to fight my way into your good graces. I will take on any challenger just to prove my mettle. You do not know me, but I am hoping we may be better acquainted either with this” (holding out his right hand, and then putting his sword from his left into it, he added) “or this. But first a bottle of rum to get the stench of that damned shark out of my innards.”
The quartermaster produced two bottles, one of which he handed to Mipps and the other to Syn, saying, “You've earned your drink this morning. But have a care. 'Tis strong stuff for a parson.” Syn laughed somewhat scornfully, drew the cork with his teeth, spat the cork on to the deck, and then tilted the raw spirit down his throat till the bottle was empty. Mipps was still drinking his, but had only got halfway when Syn took it from him in the most engaging manner and finished it for him. This touch of comedy appealed to the pirates even more than the tragic splendour of his fighting, and in a few minutes, when the grog went round, the pirates were drinking to their new brother's health. Fortunately for Syn the crew was widely recruited from many lands and languages, and when they found this uncanny stranger could speak and joke with them each in his own tongue, their admiration knew no bounds.
“I said we'd strut the poop-deck,” whispered Mipps, “and it looks as though you'll be made captain willynilly.” And Mipps was in the right of it too, for after the Intention had been abandoned and sunk, votes were taken for the post of command and it was Mipps and Syn who carried it.
It was not till after sunset that Syn was able to take Mipps into his confidence, for till that time they had not been alone. They now found themselves in possession of the captain's cabin under the poop. The pirates had unanimously agreed that theirs should be a joint leadership, Mipps maintaining his post as sailing-master and navigator, and Syn to be in command of fighting tactics. In this capacity he quickly proved himself a leader, for he called for a full inventory of arms aboard, and was much surprised to learn that there was no such thing.
“Then the sooner I have it the better,” he had cried. “That Black Satan of yours may have left all to chance, but if I'm to be of use to you my way is different. How can I judge whether to risk your lives and such booty as you already possess unless I know to a nicety what powder and shot I have in the lockers? I suggest that you appoint for us a Master Armourer with sufficient men to help him, who shall be free from all other duties. Not only will they keep our guns sweet and clean, but it shall be their responsibility to keep a razor edge on all your cutlasses. Each day you will choose two of your fellows to come with me on my inspection, so that you will feel satisfied that all is being done for your profit. If we are ready to fight upon an empty sea, we shall be the better prepared when any sail tops the horizon. We must school ourselves to think that we are not here for the fun of the thing. Plenty of time for fun when we go ashore and spend our money freely. But to get sufficient money we must work. If I am to take a hand in leading you, it shall be my object to stuff your belts with guineas and to keep your bodies from the chains.
I take it that none of you desires to hang, and for myself, I don't intend to, for 'tis a most ungentlemanly end. To avoid this, I tell you now there must be no foolishness. Certain risks I am willing to take if I think the possible results are justifiable, in which cases I shall be the first to board, and you will follow me.
But I reserve, for your sakes and mine own, the right to vote against a fight if I consider that the odds are too great against us. Let us not, through an exaggerated conceit, fall foul of one ship when we might sink six others through discretion. If, on the other hand, we find ourselves out-gunned and outman?uvred, and fight we must—well, then, we will, and maybe get the victory.
Who knows?” Needless to say, Mipps had seen to it that Syn's property had all been returned. Shoes, coat, pistols and scabbard, and his sea-chest, still unopened, stood beside one of the bunks.
Mipps, who preferred a hammock to a bunk, insisted upon slinging it outside the cabin door.
“For,” said he, “pirates or no, and co-commanders as you might say, I know my station. You was above me on the Marshes, and is so here. I'm twice the man I was when I met you. I always knew I was born for adventures, and you helped me to it with that loan. Without it the Customs would have caught me.
I've got it for you here, sir, and in English money.” Mipps produced a key tied with a piece of tarty string round his neck and opened his sea-chest, upon which he had been sitting. From this he took a canvas bag, in which his fingers fumbled for a time, at last drawing out a small paper parcel, which he handed to his companion. Syn looked at it and laughed, for on it as scrawled, “Mipps his debt to Parson Syn.”
“You'll find that all correct, sir,” said Mipps. “And it brought me luck, that chance meeting with you.”
“So you thought this piracy business luck, eh?” laughed Syn. “Well, perhaps you are right. If your life changed from that bright morning on Lympne Hill, why, so did mine. But my change was for the worse. That very morning started the blighting of my soul. That is why I journey to America, and I'll confess to you that as soon as we touch land I shall put this ship behind me and set out on my life's mission.”
“What, give up piracy and go on a preaching mission? Oh, I say!”
“No, on a killing mission,” corrected Syn. “I have journeyed to find an enemy. There is a man I have to kill. That is to be my great adventure. I am sorry I shall have to leave you to this life. As to this money, here it is. It was a gift, and I will not take it back.”
“And I can be obstinate, too,” grinned Mipps. “I never takes nothing for nothing.”
“Then give me something in exchange,” replied Syn; “brass buttons; a clasp knife—any trifle you can spare.”
“Very well, sir,” said Mipps seriously. “I'll give you something in exchange if you'll accept it. And the value I put it at is just three spades, two crowns, and a silver fourpenny. And this thing is myself. Just this Mister Mipps you see here in the cabin. Just a collection of bone, flesh, blood and gristle, and my clothes thrown in. We are bound for the slave country. A rough country, too, where a gentleman like yourself needs a servant. No need to tell you I'll be faithful. You know that. Well, what do you say, sir? Have you bought me? 'Cos if so I'll put this money back in my chest.”
“You mean you'll give up piracy?” asked Syn.
“I mean that I am going to help you kill this man whoever he may be,” replied the little man.
“I'll tell you who he is, and now,” said Syn, and immediately recounted the whole business of his marriage and betrayal.
At the end of the tragic recital Mipps drew his sheath-knife and plunged it into the cabin table, crying out, “The dirty dog.” He then flicked the handle of the quivering blade with his finger and added, “He won't be Happy Tappitt by the time we deals with him. Is the business of sale complete? Or do you think the price is too steep for my body and soul?”
“I think, my good Mipps, that I shall never make a better bargain in my life, and there's my hand on it.” That night they laid their plans, agreeing to escape from the ship at the first opportunity.
“For the longer we remain amongst these rascals, the greater risk we run of hanging at the last,” said Syn.
Outwardly, however, they stuck to their bargain with the pirates. In a few days Syn had established a stricter discipline than any pirate ship had ever boasted. The men respected him, because they feared him, and they sprang to his orders with a will. Besides this, he brought luck to the Sulphur Pit. Prize after prize fell to them: rich merchant ships whose wealth increased the pirates' shares beyond the dreams of the most covetous. In every attack Syn, as good as his word, led the boarding party to victory, and the pirates worshipped him for his bravery and skill, and the death of Black Satan was accounted the luckiest circumstance that could have happened to the ship. In Syn they not only had the most dashing commander, but one who also looked after his men carefully.
Their casualties were light, and many a man who might have died from wounds had Black Satan been their captain owed his life to he careful nursing which Syn insisted on.
Much to their relief they never fell in with an English ship, for Syn and Mipps had made it clear that they would never countenance the plank for English sailors.
“That shred of decency we will at least reserve,” as Syn had said to Mipps.
To all other crews, however, they were merciless. No one was left alive to tell the tale ashore.
But Syn had no intention of postponing his vengeance for too long in order to keep the seas, and at last he found the excuse to run for land. This was based on a report laid before the pirates by Mipps. The ship's bottom was growing too foul for any speedy man?uvring, he stated, and as soon as possible they ought to lie up some river for careening.
“I agree,” said Syn. “Our guns are of no avail if we have no sailing speed. A spell ashore will be good for our souls, and when we have cleansed the jolly Sulphur Pit we shall sail out refreshed for new adventuring.”
Aware that the careening operations were necessary, and looking forward to carouses ashore, the pirates were of a mind to set the course for land. It then remained to decide upon their place of call. Some were for the Tortugas, a place that had been much patronized by Black Satan. Others voted for the Bahamas, but Syn and Mipps, for their own private convenience, advocated the mainland of America. It would be more handy, they pointed out, not only for disposing of money safely, but also for the purchase of new supplies. At length it was decided to run for St. John's River, to the north of Florida, Dr. Syn volunteering to sail with Mipps in one of the ship's boats in order to find out if all was safe.
“I will take no risk of running the ship into a trap,” he said. “While you anchor off the river mouth we will spy up the creeks, and see if there are any other vessels there that are unfriendly.”
To this one of the pirates objected. “How do we know that you will return? It might be tempting to show your heels ashore, and we all agree that you are the leaders for us, and we don't intend to lose you.”
“Do not let that trouble you,” laughed Syn. “Neither Mipps nor I have shown ourselves dissatisfied, I think, and in order that all shall be fair and above board, we'll leave our share of the treasure in our cabin. After so much pains we should hardly abandon that.” This satisfied them, and the course was set.
The winds being light, and the keel so very foul, it took them two weeks to reach the anchorage. Calling all hands Syn complimented them on their behaviour, and added that the time was now ripe for a royal drinking bout.
“We have been temperate, my lads, too long. We will now make up for lost time and dry throats. Drink as much rum as you can stomach, and Mipps and I will sail up river at dawn. We have shared out our portions of plunder fairly, and Mipps and I leave ours in your trust upon the cabin table. See to that, Mipps, and let who will inspect the bundles. No doubt we shall be back before you have outslept your drinking.” The rascals needed no second bidding to attack the rum casks. In an hour they were well on the way to being very drunk. Syn went amongst them drinking and jesting, until he knew that there was no suspicion of their planned escape. The boat had already been lowered in readiness, and was alongside.
Mipps had stored their sea-chests, fresh water, provisions, ammunition and a compass. These precautions had not attracted much attention from the pirates, who were satisfied that both leaders had indeed left their share of plunder on the table.
“Maybe we'll have to lie low up river,” explained Mipps. “In which case you wouldn't wish us starved.”
There was no need to say farewell to their companions, for had they wished to it would not have been possible; for the whole crew were raving drunk by midnight, and before dawn were fast asleep. Even the watch were past all waking. Syn went the rounds pretending to be drunk himself, and was quite satisfied with what he saw.
“The sooner we start the better,” he whispered to Mipps.
Syn stepped into the cabin to take a last look round, and to buckle on his sword. His eye fell on the table, and he saw that the bundles of their treasure had disappeared. When Mipps joined him for his cutlass he remarked on this.
“The rascals have moved them somewhere,” he said.
“I put 'em in the boat,” explained Mipps. “No use being too honest with dishonest men, and we'll need all we have to help us find this enemy of yours.
You get down in the boat, sir, and I'll follow. Got your pistols, sir?”
Syn nodded. “And I see you have. Oh, we shall do very well, I think.” He left the cabin for the last time, went to the side and climbed the rope ladder down into the boat. “Hurry, man,” he whispered, looking up the ship's side.
For some minutes he waited with what patience he could, and thinking something must be wrong, was about to climb aboard again when Mipps reappeared and scrambled down into the boat. “A little matter I had to see to, sir,” he explained. “Ready, sir. Cast off.” Syn took the tiller, and Mipps fell to the oars, pulling vigorously.
“Conserve your strength, man,” advised Syn. “There's no need of such haste.”
“Sooner we're away from them the better,” replied Mipps.
“There's a breeze that will save you your pains,” said Syn. “I'll up sail.
And, what is more, we'll change our plans. Since we are not watched by those drunken swine, we'll head up-coast. Why should we break our backs with trudging across difficult country with our sea-chests, when this boat can carry us right up to Charleston? The breeze will be behind us when we clear the promontory.”
“Aye, aye, sir, that's game. I was wondering myself how the devil we was going to carry all this clodder without a horse and trap.” The sail up and catching the wind, Mipps shipped his oars and the boat spanked along magnificently. When they were safely round the head of the river-bank, and headed north, Mipps sighed with relief.
“No danger now, sir,” he said. “I was very anxious to get the head between us and the ship. You never know with all them drunken dogs about, and the magazine so full of powder.”
“Tut, man, the magazine is locked and the key in our cabin,” said Syn.
“They're not likely to want powder with so much rum in 'em.”
“Well, I was only wishful of warning you, sir, that should the magazine blow up, don't get jumping and upsetting the trim. Queer things happens even on pirate ships. And the very name of Sulphur Pit puts one thinking of explosions.” These words were hardly out of his mouth when the sky was reddened with flame, and a mighty roar rolled over the sea.
“Good God, man, that's the ship!” cried Syn.
“Must be,” agreed Mipps. “It ain't the fifth of November, certainly. Good thing I warned you about trimming boat.” Suddenly Syn suspected the truth. “Mipps,” he said, “was that what you were doing when I was waiting in the boat? Did you go into the magazine?”
“Yes, sir, and I must have left a lighted candle there,” he said shamefacedly.
“And a train of powder, too, no doubt,” added Syn grimly.
“Dead men tells no tales, sir,” said the little man. “And you and I ain't going to hang for scum like that. I didn't want it on your conscience, sir, you being a parson and all, but when you think it over, you must own I took a good opportunity. We're clear now of the Sulphur Pit. Not a man could live through a bang like that, and I've done nothing but what a man-o'-war wouldn't have been proud to do. We've rid the seas of a very dirty mob. Confess, sir. Am I right? I'll be glad to know what you think.”
“I think you're more of a little devil than I suspected. But if your case was put to the vote I believe the rights would be more than the wrongs.”
“Thankee, sir,” grinned Mipps. “You've took it handsome. And how about a nice little nip of rum to keep out the cold?”
