The Pirate Island | Page 3

can see it over the land, and I'll have hot water and blankets
all ready for the poor souls against they come ashore."
"Ay, ay, mother; I will," replied old Bill. "Only hope we may be lucky
enough to get out to 'em in time; the wind's dead in our teeth all the
way. Now, lads, if ye're all ready let's be off. Thank'ee, mother, for the
grog."
The men filed out, Bill leading, and took their way down to the beach,
a very few yards distant, the dim flickering light of a lantern being
exhibited from the water-side for a moment as they issued into the open
air.
"There's Bob waitin' with the boat; what a chap he is!" ejaculated one
of the men as the light was seen. "I say, Bill, you won't take Bob, will
you, on an errand like this here?"
"Oh, ay," responded Bill. "He'll want to go; and I promised him he
should next time as we was called out. He's a fine handy lad, and old
enough to take care of himself by this time. Besides, it's time he began

to take his share of the rough work."
Reaching the water's edge they found Bob standing there with the
painter of a boat in his hand, the boat itself being partially grounded on
the beach. They quickly tumbled in over the gunwale; Bob then placed
his shoulder against the stem-head, and with a powerful "shove," drove
the boat stern-foremost into the stream, springing in over the bows and
stowing himself away in the eyes of the boat as she floated.
It appeared intensely dark outside when the members of the expedition
first issued from the hospitable portal of the "Anchor;" but there was a
moon, although she was completely hidden by the dense canopy of
fast- flying clouds which overspread the heavens; and the faint light
which struggled through this thick veil of vapour soon revealed a small
fleet of fishing smacks at anchor in the middle of the creek. Toward
one of these craft the boat was headed, and in a very few minutes the
party were scrambling over the low bulwarks of the Seamew--Bill
Maskell's property, and the pride of the port.
The boat was at once dragged in on deck and secured, and then, without
hurry or confusion of any kind, but in an incredibly short time, the
smack was unmoored and got under weigh, a faint cheer from the shore
following her as she wound her way down the creek between the other
craft, and, hauling close to the wind, headed toward the open sea.
In a very few minutes the gallant little Seamew had passed clear of the
low point upon which stands the Martello Tower which had been Bob's
place of look-out, and then she felt the full fury of the gale and the full
strength of the raging sea. Even under the mere shred of sail--a
balance-reefed main-sail and storm jib--which she dared to show, the
little vessel was buried to her gunwale, while the sea poured in a
continuous cataract over her bows, across her deck, and out again to
leeward, rendering it necessary for her crew to crouch low on the deck
to windward under the partial shelter of her low bulwarks, and to lash
themselves there.
It was indeed a terrible night. The thermometer registered only a degree
or two above freezing-point; and the howling blast, loaded with

spindrift and scud-water, seemed to pierce the adventurers to their very
marrow, while, notwithstanding the care with which they were wrapped
up, the continuous pouring of the sea over them soon wet them to the
skin.
But the serious discomfort to which they had voluntarily exposed
themselves, so far from damping their ardour only increased it. As the
veteran Bill, standing there at the tiller exposed to the full fury of the
tempest, with the tiller-ropes pulling and jerking at his hands until they
threatened to cut into the bone, felt his wet clothing clinging to his skin,
and his sea-boots gradually filling with water, he pictured to himself a
group of poor terror-stricken wretches clinging despairingly to a
shattered wreck out there upon the cruel sands, with the merciless sea
tugging at them fiercely, and the wind chilling the blood within their
veins until, perchance, their benumbed limbs growing powerless, their
hold would relax and they would be swept away; and as the dismal
scene rose before his mental vision he tautened up the tiller-ropes a
trifle, the smack's head fell off perhaps half a point, and the wind
striking more fully upon the straining canvas, she went surging out to
seaward like a startled steed, her hull half buried in a whirling chaos of
flying foam.
Old Bill, the leader of this desperate expedition, was