Perils of Certain English Prisoners | Page 8

infantine and sweetly beautiful extent,
surely, I thought that morning when I did at last lie down to rest, it was
that Sambo Pilot, Christian George King.
This may account for my dreaming of him. He stuck in my sleep,
cornerwise, and I couldn't get him out. He was always flitting about me,
dancing round me, and peeping in over my hammock, though I woke
and dozed off again fifty times. At last, when I opened my eyes, there
he really was, looking in at the open side of the little dark hut; which
was made of leaves, and had Charker's hammock slung in it as well as
mine.
"So-Jeer!" says he, in a sort of a low croak. "Yup!"
"Hallo!" says I, starting up. "What? You are there, are you?"
"Iss," says he. "Christian George King got news."
"What news has he got?"
"Pirates out!"
I was on my feet in a second. So was Charker. We were both aware that
Captain Carton, in command of the boats, constantly watched the

mainland for a secret signal, though, of course, it was not known to
such as us what the signal was.
Christian George King had vanished before we touched the ground. But,
the word was already passing from hut to hut to turn out quietly, and
we knew that the nimble barbarian had got hold of the truth, or
something near it.
In a space among the trees behind the encampment of us visitors, naval
and military, was a snugly-screened spot, where we kept the stores that
were in use, and did our cookery. The word was passed to assemble
here. It was very quickly given, and was given (so far as we were
concerned) by Sergeant Drooce, who was as good in a soldier point of
view, as he was bad in a tyrannical one. We were ordered to drop into
this space, quietly, behind the trees, one by one. As we assembled here,
the seamen assembled too. Within ten minutes, as I should estimate, we
were all here, except the usual guard upon the beach. The beach (we
could see it through the wood) looked as it always had done in the
hottest time of the day. The guard were in the shadow of the sloop's
hull, and nothing was moving but the sea,--and that moved very faintly.
Work had always been knocked off at that hour, until the sun grew less
fierce, and the sea- breeze rose; so that its being holiday with us, made
no difference, just then, in the look of the place. But I may mention that
it was a holiday, and the first we had had since our hard work began.
Last night's ball had been given, on the leak's being repaired, and the
careening done. The worst of the work was over, and to-morrow we
were to begin to get the sloop afloat again.
We marines were now drawn up here under arms. The chace-party
were drawn up separate. The men of the Columbus were drawn up
separate. The officers stepped out into the midst of the three parties,
and spoke so as all might hear. Captain Carton was the officer in
command, and he had a spy-glass in his hand. His coxswain stood by
him with another spy-glass, and with a slate on which he seemed to
have been taking down signals.
"Now, men!" says Captain Carton; "I have to let you know, for your
satisfaction: Firstly, that there are ten pirate-boats, strongly manned and
armed, lying hidden up a creek yonder on the coast, under the
overhanging branches of the dense trees. Secondly, that they will
certainly come out this night when the moon rises, on a pillaging and

murdering expedition, of which some part of the mainland is the object.
Thirdly--don't cheer, men!--that we will give chace, and, if we can get
at them, rid the world of them, please God!"
Nobody spoke, that I heard, and nobody moved, that I saw. Yet there
was a kind of ring, as if every man answered and approved with the
best blood that was inside of him.
"Sir," says Captain Maryon, "I beg to volunteer on this service, with
my boats. My people volunteer, to the ship's boys."
"In His Majesty's name and service," the other answers, touching his
hat, "I accept your aid with pleasure. Lieutenant Linderwood, how will
you divide your men?"
I was ashamed--I give it out to be written down as large and plain as
possible--I was heart and soul ashamed of my thoughts of those two
sick officers, Captain Maryon and Lieutenant Linderwood, when I saw
them, then and there. The spirit in those two gentlemen beat down their
illness (and very ill I knew them to be) like Saint George beating down
the Dragon. Pain and