The Bushman | Page 8

fire, called aguadente, which is smuggled on board ship in the
shape of pumpkins and watermelons. These are sold to the sailors for
shirts and clothing; there being nothing so eagerly sought for by the
inhabitants of St. Jago as linen and calico.
Our crew, being thoroughly disgusted with their captain, as indeed they
had some reason to be, and their valour being wondrously excited by
their passionate fondness for water-melons, came to a stern resolution
of spending the remainder of their lives on this agreeable island; at any

rate, they determined to sail no farther in our company. The captain
was ashore, settling his accounts and receiving his papers; the
chief-mate had given orders to loose the fore-topsail and weigh anchor;
and we were all in the cuddy, quietly sipping our wine, when we heard
three cheers and a violent scuffling on deck. In a few moments down
rushed the mate in a state of delirious excitement, vociferating that the
men were in open mutiny, and calling upon us, in the name of the
Queen, to assist the officers of the ship in bringing them to order.
Starting up at the call of our Sovereign, we rushed to our cabins in a
state of nervous bewilderment, and loading our pistols in a manner that
ensured their not going off, we valiantly hurried on deck in the rear of
the exasperated officer. On reaching the raised quarter-deck of the
vessel, we found the crew clustered together near the mainmast, armed
with hand-spikes, boat-oars, crow-bars, and a miscellaneous assortment
of other weapons, and listening to an harangue which the carpenter was
in the act of delivering to them. They were all intoxicated; but the
carpenter, a ferocious, determined villain, was the least so.
At one of the quarter-deck gangways stood the captain's lady, a lean
and wizened Hecate, as famous for her love of rum as any of the crew,
but more openly rejoicing in the no less objectionable spirit of
ultra-methodism. Screaming at the top of her voice, whilst her
unshawled and dusky shoulders, as well as the soiled ribands of her
dirty cap, were gently fanned by the sea-breeze, she commanded the
men to return to their duty, in a volume of vociferation that seemed
perfectly inexhaustible. Fearing that the quarter-deck would be carried
by storm, we divided our party, consisting of the two mates, three
passengers with their servants, and Mungo the black servant, into two
divisions, each occupying one of the gang-ways.
In a few moments the carpenter ceased his oration; the men cheered
and danced about the deck, brandishing their weapons, and urging one
another to "come on." Then with a rush, or rather a stagger, they
assailed our position, hoping to carry it in an instant by storm. The
mate shouted to us to fire, and pick out three or four of the most
desperate; but perceiving the intoxicated state of the men we refused to
shed blood, except in the last extremity of self-defence; and determined

to maintain our post, if possible, by means of our pistol-butts, or our
fists alone. In the general melee which ensued, the captain's lady, who
fought in the van, and looked like a lean Helen MacGregor, or the
mythological Ate, was captured by the assailants, and dragged to the
deck below. Then it was that combining our forces, and inspired with
all the ardour which is naturally excited by the appearance of beauty in
distress, we made a desperate sally, and after a fearful skirmish,
succeeded in rescuing the lady, and replacing her on the quarter-deck,
with the loss only of her cap and gown, and a few handfuls of hair.
After this exploit, both parties seemed inclined to pause and take breath,
and in the interval we made an harangue to the sailors, expressive of
our regret that they should act in so disgraceful a manner.
The gallant (or rather ungallant) fellows replied that they were
determined to be no longer commanded by a she-captain, as they called
the lady, and therefore would sail no farther in such company.
I really believe that most of them had no serious intention whatever in
their proceedings, but the officers of the ship were firmly convinced
that the carpenter and one or two others had resolved to get possession
of the vessel, dispose of the passengers and mates somehow or other,
and then slip the cable, and wreck and sell the ship and cargo on the
coast of South America.
Whilst the truce lasted, the second mate had been busily engaged
making signals of distress, by repeatedly hoisting and lowering the
ensign reversed, from the mizen-peak. This was soon observed from
the deck of a small Portuguese schooner of war, which lay at anchor
about half a mile from us, having arrived