Antony Waymouth: or, The Gentlemen Adventurers

It was with no small amount of anxiety that he was watched, as, with four men in his boat, he approached the beach. No one drew nearer till he had landed: when, taking the treasures he had brought from the boat, he held them up, first towards one canoe, then towards another; and then he placed them on the sand, and returned to his boat. Thus tempted, the savages landed, and quickly made their way towards the articles on the beach. They were soon seized on and examined; and in a brief space of time afterwards the savages seemed as ready to go on board the ship as they before seemed desirous of keeping away from her. Before long, canoes appeared from many other quarters. Captain Langton, observing this, considered a while, and then called Hugh to him.

“There is a saying, Master Hugh, that we should look upon all men as honest till we find them rogues; but methinks it were safer in these regions to consider all rogues till we find from long experience that they are honest,” he observed. “Now, I suspect, from the way these people at first avoided us, they had some reason to believe we would do them harm; but that, seeing that such is not our thought, they now come without fear of us. From this I argue that some other ship has been here, to whose company they gave cause of offence; and they might suppose that our ship is the same, or that we have come to avenge the injury they may have done our friends. We will not say this to the ladies, lest it alarm them without cause; but we will take due precautions against treachery, of which they are assuredly capable, or their looks belie them.”

Hugh fully agreed with Captain Langton in his opinion, and Master Weedon and the other officers of the ship were warned to be on their guard. Many of the savages had by this time collected round the ship, and a few chiefs and others came on board. Beatrice and Constance had retired to their cabin; for they neither liked the appearance of the savages, nor desired to be seen of them. They looked curiously at every thing on board, especially at the guns, of the use of which they clearly had some idea. As evening drew on, they took their departure, seemingly on excellent terms with their white visitors. The seamen began to consider them very well-behaved savages; but Captain Langton warned them not to trust to appearances, nor would he allow any of the crew to visit the shore.

The next day, some large canoes came sailing up from other parts of the coast, and many more savages assembled round the ship. Nearly half the ship’s company had been below, either asleep or engaged in various occupations, when the savages were on board the first day. Captain Langton, remembering this, determined to keep half the people concealed, and at the same time well armed, while those on deck also were armed; the guns, were loaded, the slow matches ready, the cable was hove short, and the sails loosed.

“Maybe the savages mean us well, and these precautions may prove not to have been necessary,” he observed to Hugh, who seemed to think that he was over-careful; “but suppose they mean us ill, and purpose suddenly setting on us, we shall have cause to be thankful that we took them. I know what savages are; and I need not tell thee, if they were to succeed, what would be the fate of those you love best, and of all on board. I like not the looks of these gentry; though, for naked savages, their manners are wondrously courteous.”

Hugh could not but agree that his friend was right; though it was tantalising not to be allowed to wander along that glittering strand, or through those shady groves, or to climb those picturesque hills he gazed at with so much admiration. Water and fuel were, however, to be got off, and, if possible, vegetables: as to meat, as no animals were seen, it was concluded that none was to be obtained. Three or four chiefs and about a dozen followers were allowed on board, and to them was explained by signs what was required. The chiefs quickly understood, and, after talking some time together, ordered away ten of the canoes to the shore; still leaving, however, the same number alongside, full of men armed with clubs and spears. They themselves, however, showed no inclination to quit the ship, but rather to remain to acquaint themselves with every thing about her. They seemed much disconcerted at not being allowed to go below; and for some time sat moodily on the deck, addressing no one. When, however, the canoes were seen coming off, they again rose to their feet, and their animation returned: but, instead of ten, there were now thirty canoes; ten appeared to be laden with calabashes of water, ten with wood chopped fit for burning, and ten with roots and vegetables.

“Surely these people mean us no ill, or they would not thus attend to our wants,” cried Hugh, who had from the first been unwilling to mistrust them.

“Wait till we see how they proceed,” answered Captain Langton.

The savages now thronged more thickly than ever round the ship. Many sprang on board, and they began to hand up the calabashes and wood; but Hugh observed, on looking down over the side, that there was no large quantity of either wood or water, and that many more people had come on board than were necessary to perform the work. The seamen had rolled some casks up to the side, that the water might be emptied into them; so that, for that purpose, no one need have come on deck. The savages, too, began to mingle among the crew; and Captain Langton observed that three or four attached themselves especially to each seaman, and at the same time that more canoes were coming off from the shore. Matters had already proceeded far enough. Ordering his men to be on their guard, and to separate themselves from the savages, he signified to the chiefs that he was ready to pay them with the articles he had promised, but that their countrymen must leave the ship. The chiefs gazed around: there were at least four savages, to one Englishman on board, and ten times as many around the ship. A signal was made, and in an instant each black man raised his club to strike a sailor.

“Hugh, beware!” cried Captain Langton, presenting his pistol at the breast of a chief whose club was about to dash out young Willoughby’s brains.

Hugh sprang aside; the savage fell, whirling his club in the air. The seamen, mostly on the watch, avoided the blows of the savages, returning them with interest with their sharp hangers or battle-axes. The report of the captain’s pistol was the signal for those below to appear. Up through the hatches they sprang, shooting, cutting down, and driving before them, the treacherous blacks. They quickly fought their way up to the guns, one of which, discharged, made the natives in the canoes paddle off in terror towards the shore. Not so the chiefs. Two seamen lay stretched lifeless on the deck from the blows of their clubs; others were wounded. They themselves stood whirling their heavy weapons around them. A shot laid one low; another, the youngest, driven to the bulwarks, having hurled his club at his foes, sprang overboard, and attempted to reach the canoes by swimming; while a third, fighting to the last, was cut down by Master Weedon’s hanger. A few of the canoes were struck by the shots; but the greater number escaped unhurt to the shore.

While the guns were still firing, Beatrice and Constance appeared on deck, and entreated that the savages might be spared. Although Captain Langton and Master Weedon considered such leniency ill bestowed, they obeyed the wishes of the fair ladies they served.

The nature of these savages was, however, before long, proved. Not many hours had passed when warlike sounds of horns and drums, with shrieks and cries, were heard; and round a point were seen coming towards the ship a fleet of large canoes, each like two vessels joined together with one mast and huge sail. Five, ten, nearly twenty, were counted. Nearly a hundred men were on board each; and, by their fierce and frantic gestures, there could be no doubt what were their intentions. It was possible that the guns of the Esperanza might have destroyed many of them, if not the whole: but such a wise commander as Captain Langton considered that nothing would be gained by remaining, and much might be lost; and, as the wind was fair to pass through the nearest passage in the reef, he ordered the anchor to be tripped, the sails to be sheeted home; and, before the canoes got near, the Esperanza, under all sail, was standing out to sea.

“Once on the open ocean, with a fair breeze, I care not how many of those savages come round us,” cried the captain, as he guided the ship towards the passage in the reef.

Every man was at his station to trim the sails; for, should the fickle wind change or fall, the Esperanza might be cast helplessly on the rugged mass of coral near which she was passing. The savages showed that they had no intention of abandoning their prey, while stronger proof was given of Captain Langton’s wisdom in being cautious of them. The rocks, over which the water formed and leaped, were on every side.

The Esperanza glided on. It seemed that a person might spring from her yard-arms to the rocks. It was here the savages must have hoped to overtake her. They were close astern, and the warriors on their decks even now began to cast their darts towards the ship. Had there been but a few minutes’ delay in getting under way, they would have come alongside at a moment most perilous to the safety of the ship. A loud cheer burst from the lips of the British seamen as they found themselves once more on the open ocean. Still their persevering foes came on. By their numbers alone, should they once succeed in getting alongside, they might gain the victory. The after-guns were pointed towards the headmost canoes; but though struck by the shot, and though several of their warriors were killed, they yet came on. So rapidly, too, did they glide over the water, that many of them ranged up on either side. Little could they, however, have expected the shower of shot and bullets which crashed down upon them, tearing open the sides of their frail vessels, rending their sails, shattering the masts, and sweeping the warriors off their decks. It would have been scant mercy to themselves had the adventurers shown mercy. Some of the canoes got alongside; and the enraged savages, attempting to climb up, were driven back with pike and pistol and battle-axe, while the big guns, playing down on them, tore open the sides of their canoes, and sent them to the bottom, leaving those on board to swim for their lives. Soon the whole sea astern of the ship was alive with the forms of the savages as they swam on, either to reach the canoes of their friends or to gain the shore. The breeze increased. The Esperanza rushed through the water. In vain the savages attempted to get on board: numbers had been slain, half their finest canoes had been sunk or disabled. With gratitude and rejoicing the adventurers saw the remainder, suddenly altering their sails, dash towards the shore.

On this one occasion, not an Englishman had been wounded. They waited till they had got far out to sea before they committed to the deep the bodies of their poor shipmates killed in the morning. The breeze which had enabled them to escape from the savages increased rapidly to a gale, and the gale to a fearful storm. They would thankfully have been within the shelter of some friendly port. Dangers seemed thickening around them. On drove the ship; the wild seas reared their foaming heads on either side, the wind howled and whistled through the rigging, the thunder roared, the lightning flashed. Darkness came on; but still the helpless ship drove before the tempest.

Brave Hugh remembered whose son he was, and never lost heart. He went into the cabin, where his sister and Constance were seated, – their hands clasped together, – for the purpose of encouraging them; for the way in which the stout ship rolled and pitched and tumbled about, the timbers and bulkheads groaned and creaked, the water washed overhead, combined with the sounds before described and the shouts of the seamen, made him conclude that they would be overcome with terror.

“Why should we be alarmed?” asked Beatrice, looking up. “We have been protected hitherto: why not to the end? We calculated the risks we were to run before we embarked: we are prepared for all the dangers we may have to encounter.”

“Brave sister!” cried Hugh as he left the cabin to return to his duty on deck. “I pray that Edward, for whom you have sacrificed so much, may prove worthy of you, should we succeed in finding him.”

All night long the ship drove on before the gale. No object even a cable’s length ahead could have been discerned, except when the bright flashes of lightning, darting from the inky clouds, played over the foam-crests of the heavy seas. Who could tell at what moment the good ship might be cast on some coral reef or on some desert shore, and be dashed to fragments? What prospect that the life of any one of them would be saved? or if by any unexpected means their lives should be preserved, that they should escape from falling into the power of savages such as those whom they had lately encountered?

Dawn approached. With daylight, dangers might be seen, and perchance avoided. The spirits of all rose. Those on the watch ahead looked out eagerly for the first faint streaks of light in the eastern sky. Suddenly a cry arose, – a fearful cry to those who knew its import, —

“Land ahead! Breakers ahead!”

“Down with the helm! Haul the starboard tacks aboard, the sheets well aft!” cried Captain Langton in a tone which showed no sign of trepidation. “We may yet weather yonder reef, if the mast proves faithful. Courage, friends; courage!”

Each order was promptly obeyed. The ship heeled over to the blast, staggering through the seas. The reef might be avoided; but there was a point beyond that it seemed impossible to weather. Captain Langton shook his head.

“Heaven may preserve our lives, but the fate of the good ship is sealed,” he answered to Hugh’s inquiries. “Be prepared to bring your sweet sister and Mistress Raymond on deck. Assure them that each man on board will cheerfully yield up his own life so that theirs may be preserved.”

Hugh entered the cabin. In a short time he returned, conducting the two fair girls. They gazed around, not without terror; and yet they retained a calmness and self-possession which many of the other sex might have envied. On one side was the raging sea, on the other a smiling island; but dark rocks, the dread of mariners, intervened.

“Heaven will assuredly hear our prayer, and cause the wild waves to take us, rather than that we should fall into the hands of savages such as those from whom we have just escaped,” said Beatrice in answer to a remark of her friend.

“Yet there are savages. Even now I see a numerous band moving along the shore!” exclaimed Constance.

“Still be of courage, sweet sister. The ship may hold together; and we have arms with which to fight, and brave men to use them.”

The seamen, though striving to the utmost, knew that the unavoidable catastrophe was approaching. Already the ship was embayed, and the captain was looking out for some spot where she might, with the best chance of preserving their lives, be allowed to drive on shore, should the last resource fail. The anchors had been got ready to let go. Trusty seamen stood with gleaming axes to cut away the masts. Hugh hurried his charges under shelter; for Captain Langton’s uplifted hand showed what was about to occur. The shrouds were severed, the axes struck the tall masts, and one by one they fell into the raging sea. One anchor was let go, and speedily another.

“Do the anchors hold?” was the cry.

“Ay, ay,” was the answer. “The ship no longer drives; the wind is falling; the sea breaks here with far less force than farther out. Heaven be praised! Even now the ship may be saved!”

Such were the exclamations uttered by those on board the Esperanza. The ship had driven into a bay, where, against all expectation, the anchors held. Should the gale not again increase, fresh masts might be procured from the shore, and the voyage be continued. All depended on the character of the natives. Persons were observed moving on the beach, and apparently watering the ship; but the sea was yet too rough to allow any boats to come off with safety. Gradually the wind went down, and Captain Langton resolved to communicate with the shore, in order to ascertain the character of the inhabitants, that, at all events, the ladies, and a party to guard them, might be placed in safety till he could get the ship into a secure harbour. The shore was anxiously scanned by all. The natives were still there. One man, who possessed the best eyesight in the ship, affirmed that the savages were white, and wore clothes; though, as might be supposed, his assertion met with the ridicule it deserved.

“We shall soon know the truth,” cried Hugh, who, with his sister and Constance, had been the most eager of the spectators; “for here come two canoes, which will speedily be alongside.”

“Who can those be? not savages, surely,” cried Constance, as the leading canoe drew near.

“My heart tells me, e’en though my eyes might play me false,” exclaimed Beatrice, trembling as she had not with the terror of the expected shipwreck.

In another minute, Edward Raymond had sprung up the side of the Esperanza, and had pressed her in his arms; scarcely heeding, for an instant, his own sweet sister Constance.

“Among faithful, loving, daring women, surpassing all! Now we are rewarded for all our toils and dangers!” he exclaimed, as he looked again and again at the countenance of his beloved Beatrice to assure himself that it was she who rested on one arm, while his other hand pressed that of his devoted sister.

In the second canoe came Antony Waymouth.

Constance received him, as in duty bound, as a relative, albeit a distant one. Whether or not he came up to the picture her imagination had painted of a perfect knight, our chronicle says not. Certain, however, is it, that from the moment his eyes beheld her, and he heard of the sacrifice she had made to friendship in accompanying the fair Beatrice, his heart became enslaved, under the belief that she would be willing to make a far greater sacrifice for love.

Thus had the chief object of the voyage of the Esperanza been accomplished, – the long-lost adventurers were found. Much, however, had still to be done. The boats were lowered, and the ladies, with Hugh Willoughby and a few of the mariners who were sick, were conveyed on shore. The savages, it was found, had made their escape from the island; and, believing that the spirit who protected the white man had come there to punish them for their crime, no more returned to it.

The Esperanza was, the next day, towed into the harbour where lay the battered hull of the Lion. All her company were thankful that they had not repaired her before, and sailed away; and it was unanimously agreed that her rich freight should be transferred to the Esperanza, in which ship all should sail back to Old England. The masts intended for the Lion were placed in the Esperanza, which, in a wonderfully short space of time, was got ready for sea. Certain it is, that, conducted by Master Walker, a service was held, both crews being present, to return thanks for their preservation thus far, and to offer up prayers for their protection for the future. And, moreover, it seemed clear and undoubted, if ladies have to wander round the world, it is advisable, meet, and convenient, if possible, that they should have husbands to protect them: therefore the same excellent minister was called on to unite in the bonds of holy matrimony Master Antony Waymouth and Mistress Constance Raymond, and Master Edward Raymond, the brother of the above Constance, and Mistress Beatrice Willoughby, before the Esperanza once more sailed on her homeward voyage to Old England.

Traversing the vast Pacific towards the east, and rounding the southern point of the New World, the Esperanza reached Plymouth; and never ship returned home with richer freight of gold and of precious stones, or truer or more loving hearts. And here, in the peaceful haven, endeth our “Chronicle of the Sea.”

The End