The Perils and Adventures of Harry Skipwith by Land and Sea

The schooner’s crew were sufficiently numerous to man the brig more strongly than before; some more guns were sent on board her, that part of her cargo which seemed useless thrown overboard, and the two vessels then made sail together. I was allowed to retain my cabin, and Peter had one awarded him aft, that he might be near me.

Marcus came on board as one of the officers of the prize. I asked him how he came to know enough of nautical affairs to take a command among the pirates.

“I picked up my knowledge on my voyage to England,” he answered. “Besides, a very small amount of knowledge makes me superior to most of my companions. Only two or three know anything of navigation, and that very imperfectly. The captain knows most, and he is jealous of any equal. If he were to be killed, the rest would scarcely find their way into a port; but for that he does not care.”

“But, Marcus,” said I, “how can you, a man capable of better things, endure such a life?”

“I hate it,” he answered bitterly. “Recollect, though, what drove me to it. To escape from the lash and chains, from indignities and insults, what will not a man endure?”

“Will you leave it?” I asked.

“Yes, certainly, if I have the means,” he answered.

“I will afford them if I have the power,” I answered. “Trust to me; think on the subject, but do not allow your comrades to suspect your intentions, nor to observe that we have any secrets between us.”

Marcus walked forward. The two vessels made sail to the westward. A mulatto acted as captain of the brig. He seemed to be a smart seaman, but knew very little of navigation. I now had practical experience of the advantage of never losing an opportunity of gaining knowledge. Whenever I had been at sea I had always endeavoured to pick up as much nautical information as possible, and had learnt to take an observation and to work a day’s work with perfect ease. I therefore offered my services to navigate the brig to any port to which the pirates wished to proceed, intimating that I should prefer being set on shore on the mainland.

“You were bound for Galveston, and we will go there,” said Marcus. “We will put you on shore on the island; and should the truth be suspected, we can be far away before any vessel is sent in pursuit of us.”

Marcus afterwards told me that he arranged with his shipmates to do as I wished. It was wonderful what influence he had in a short time gained over those lawless characters. It was the triumph of mind over brute strength. He had, I learned, however, known several of his present comrades before, and they had spoken in his praise to the rest. Cruel wretches as the pirates had become, they treated me with every consideration, and supplied me with all the luxuries at their command. Light and contrary winds delayed our progress, so that ten days passed before we made the low sandy shore of Galveston Island.

The sky was of intense blue, the ocean, smooth as glass, shone with brilliant lustre, and the sun’s rays darted down on our deck, making the pitch in the seams bubble and hiss, while a line of white sand was the only soil on which I could hope to land – terra-firma it certainly was not.

The atmosphere sparkled with heat – the sand almost blinded me, and I expected to be thoroughly cooked before I reached Galveston. Still my desire to be free of the pirates overcame every other consideration. The two vessels stood in. There was nothing suspicious about the brig, and the schooner was made to look as innocent as possible. How my followers and I were to get on shore was now the question. At length we made out some canoes with Indians in them fishing. We made a signal, and one of them paddled towards us. The people in her held up the fish they had caught and offered them for sale, thinking that was what we wanted. They seemed rather astonished when they saw that Peter and I were the only white people on board. The captain took the fish, paid them liberally, and then told them that they must take some passengers, who wanted to land at Galveston, as he was bound elsewhere. After some bargaining, the Indians agreed to do as we desired.

I took the opportunity, while the captain was bargaining with the Indians, to ask Marcus how he purposed to quit the pirate band.

“If you remain willingly among evil companions, you cannot avoid being responsible for their crimes,” I observed.

“I must bide my time,” he answered. “I have promised you that I will do my best to quit them, and I never break my word.”

I knew that I could trust him. My parting with the pirates was brief. Marcus was the only man on board with whom I could bring myself to shake hands. Scarcely had I and Peter and Ready taken our seats in the narrow canoe, with my very moderate amount of luggage between my knees, than, a breeze springing up, the two vessels stood away from the land. The canoe’s head was put towards the north end of the island on which Galveston stands. Our crew were of a peculiarly unhealthy-looking olive-colour, their faces being covered with wrinkled parchment-like skin. A straw hat and a shirt and belt formed their costume. They understood a little English, but I judged it better not to enter into conversation with them, lest they should ask inconvenient questions; and so almost in silence, except when they exchanged a few remarks with each other in their native tongue, we glided over the sparkling water. At length, when we had rounded the north end of the island, they ran the canoe on to the beach, and told me to get out, as they were going no further. I expostulated, but they said that they had performed their contract, and had their reasons for not going to the town with such suspicious people as we were. Against this I had nothing to say. I thus had practical experience of the inconvenience of having been seen in bad company. Though a reason, it is the lowest for avoiding it. How to get my baggage into the town was a puzzle, till I bethought me of slinging it on a long pole, one end of which Peter carried on his shoulder, and the other I placed under my arm, and thus we began our march towards the town.

Chapter Five

Off by Steamer to Houston – Ants, and how to avoid them – By Waggon through Forests – Silas Slag, our Kentuckian Driver – I buy Horses and engage an Indian Guide – The Prairie – Two Human Skulls – The Comanches

The founders of Galveston must have been very fond of sand. It stands on sand, is surrounded by sand, and in high winds almost covered with sand. We could scarcely get along: We sank over our ankles at every step. I heard Peter groan frequently, and poor Ready dragged his weary legs after my heels with his tongue out, till I began to be afraid that he would go mad with the heat. As to fresh water, that seemed an impossibility, and there was nothing cooling in the appearance of the bright shining surface of the surrounding ocean. Still to stop would positively have been death, so on we trudged, I doing my best to keep up the spirits of my two-legged as well as four-legged companion. At last, in no very dignified guise, we entered among the streets of wooden houses, bordered by odoriferous and flowering trees, which compose Galveston. Two white people carrying a load was a sight rarely seen, and when we reached the door of an hotel the clerk and waiters looked at me with so supercilious an air, that I saw it would be necessary to assume an authoritative manner.

“Here, some of you lend a hand,” I exclaimed. “A pretty country this of yours, where a gentleman on landing can find neither porter nor carriage to convey his baggage! All I can hope is that your hotel will make some amends for the inconvenience I have suffered.”

The people, as I knew they would, began to defend their country, to assert that there was not a finer in the world; and then, to prove that their hotel was a good one, gave me one of the best rooms.

Galveston struck me as remarkable for the pungent sting of the mosquitoes, the undrinkable nature of the water, and the number of vociferating negroes, though there were some tolerable buildings and broadish streets. Perhaps I was prejudiced, for, not feeling very comfortable as to my safety, I was anxious to get out of the place again.

Having got a bill cashed at a somewhat high discount, and written home an account of my adventures to Aunt Becky, with a request that my epistle might be sent the round of the family, I put myself, with Peter and Ready, on board a steamer bound for Houston, the capital of Texas. We crossed the straits which separate Galveston from the mainland, and entering the Buffalo River found ourselves between lofty banks, covered in the richest profusion with magnolias and other flowering shrubs, and groves of lofty trees, among which flitted birds of the gayest plumage, while squirrels sported and leaped from branch to branch. Houston is picturesquely situated, and will, I have no doubt, become an important place, as it already shows signs of the enterprise of its Anglo-Saxon inhabitants. I slept there only one night. My room was on the ground floor. I found the four legs of my bed placed in as many basins of water. I inquired the reason, and was informed that it was to prevent the ants, which are not nautically inclined, from getting into it and devouring the inhabitant in his sleep. Peter’s bed, which was in the corner of the room, was similarly guarded, and Ready very wisely jumped up and slept on the foot of it.

The next morning Peter got up to procure water for me for washing, and to perform other duties of a valet; but scarcely had he donned his clothes than I saw him jumping and twisting about, and slapping himself in the most eccentric manner.

“Oh dear! oh dear! I shall be eaten, I shall be eaten!” he exclaimed, slapping himself harder and harder.

Ready barked, not knowing what to make of it, and jumped back on the bed again. Peter set to work to tear off his clothes, which he had placed on a chair, and of which a colony of ants had taken possession. He shook them out by hundreds, and then rushing out, he returned with a broom, with which he cleared the boards. The people of the house were rather astonished at my insisting on having a tub of cold water, which Peter at length brought me, and I managed to dress without being devoured by the ants.

Two hours after this we were rattling away along the corduroy road in a mail waggon, with a Kentuckian driver, through the forests of Texas. It was not altogether a pleasant style of locomotion, for we were bumped about terribly, our vehicle being innocent of springs; but it had the advantage of novelty. We stopped at nights at settlers’ huts, and slept on the roughest of rough beds, and sometimes without any beds at all except the bare boards and our cloaks; but I had made up my mind to grumble at nothing short of being scalped or positively starved. I had brought a saddle with me from England, and had procured another at Galveston for Peter, with the intention of purchasing at the first opportunity horses for riding and for carrying the luggage and tent, and starting away across country. I mentioned my intention to my Kentuckian driver, Silas Slag by name.

“Then I guess, stranger, that you don’t care very much about your scalp,” he observed, with a wink of his eye, as he made a significant gesture round his head.

“Why, who do you suppose would venture to take my scalp?” I asked, thinking that he was quizzing me, and wishing to turn the tables on him. “Don’t you know that if any one injures an Englishman, the British government will hunt him out, in whatever part of the world he may be, and make him pay dearly for his folly?”

“I guess, stranger, that the Comanches, or any other Redskin varmint, care no more for your British government than I do, and that is about as much as that panther there does for your dog.”

As Silas spoke, he pointed to a huge creature, which, half concealed by the tangled underwood of a tropical forest, lay crouching down about twenty yards ahead of us, and apparently prepared to spring out as we passed.

I had turned Ready out to stretch his legs, and he, unconscious of danger, was running on in high glee, abreast of the horses. In another instant he would have been in the jaws of the wild beast. I called to him to come to me, and at the same time lifted my rifle from the bottom of the waggon to be ready to fire. Silas whipped on his horses in the hopes of passing the creature before he could make his spring, but the animals, aware of the approach of an enemy, began to plunge and kick, and drove the waggon against some stumps of trees amid which the road wound, with a force which sent Peter sprawling at the bottom of it, and at the same instant the panther, with a tremendous bound, sprang on one of the leaders. The poor brute struggled so violently, that I was afraid of wounding it instead of killing the panther if I fired. At last I got a fair aim at the wild beast’s head, and to my infinite satisfaction over he rolled dead. The horses stood trembling in every limb, but I was afraid that they would dash on, before we could put the harness to rights, and leave us in the lurch. Once more, however, we were on the road, through a forest composed of oaks, maples, acacias, sycamores, and other trees with which I was familiar, and many others to be found in the tropics alone, interlaced with all sorts of creepers. On either side were a vast variety of flowers of every bright hue, but the most attractive were the red and white blossoms of the cotton trees, which, waving to and fro in the breeze, were dazzling to look at, while humming-birds, butterflies, and insects innumerable made the air appear as if filled with the most gorgeous gems. All this sort of scenery was very interesting, but I was not sorry when we reached the town of Billyville, I think it was called, bordering the prairies, where I was told that I could purchase horses, and find a trustworthy guide for my farther progress.

The name of Billyville was not significant of a very important place, nor had the town any great pretension of any sort, as it consisted of a few rough huts, while the surrounding fields were full of the stumps of the trees which had been cut down. I bought the horses required, and on the evening of my arrival a thin wiry little fellow presented himself, saying that his occupation was that of a hunter, and that he could guide me safely through any part of the North American continent. Whether he considered himself a white man or a Redskin I could not tell, while he spoke English, Spanish, and French with great volubility, though absurd as to correctness, and asserted that there was not an Indian dialect with which he was not acquainted. His garments were of fine tanned leather and ornamented with coloured threads and beads, while a straw hat covered his head. I inquired of Silas Slag if he knew anything of him. He said that he believed that he was honest, and that he had the character of being a very brave fellow and a successful hunter. He was the sort of man I wanted, so I engaged Mr Jack Lion, as he called himself in English, with an Indian to assist in taking care of the horses. An old man and a young one now joined our party, and took our vacated places in the waggon.

We were to accompany the mail another day’s journey before we turned off to the north, where Mr Lion informed me I should find numbers of buffaloes and other large game.

“Well, I shall be sorry to part from you, stranger,” said Silas Slag, as I rode alongside him on my trusty little steed. “I hope you’ll come to no harm, but you’ll just remember that while you’re shooting buffaloes there’ll be people maybe looking out to shoot you. Those Comanches are terrible wild chaps, and you never know where they may turn up.”

We had now entered a most desolate-looking prairie country. We had lost sight of the forest through which we had been travelling, and there appeared before us only one uniform level of dry waving grass. As we rode on, I saw some white objects glittering in the sun ahead. Getting up to them, I found that they were two human skulls and other bones. There they lay grinning at each other. Near one was the barrel and look of a gun. Close to the other was a hatchet and a scalping-knife, and several tips of arrows. A tale was thus told me of how a white man and an Indian had met, and fought, and died on that spot. I had dismounted to examine these miserable relics, speaking of human sin and folly, when Silas cried out —

“Look there, stranger; look there Jack Lion! What do you say to those black spots out there? Are they birds, buffaloes, or Redskins?”

The hunter stood up in his stirrups and took a long steady gaze in the direction Silas pointed, just as a sailor does when he is looking out for an enemy’s cruiser at sea. Suddenly dropping into his saddle, he exclaimed, “Comanches! And they are coming this way.”

“Then they’ll scalp every mother’s son of us,” cried Silas, lashing on his horses.

“Keep together, my men, at all events,” I exclaimed, as my companions began to move on; and away we dashed at a rapid rate.

We had not gone far, however, when, on turning my head, I discovered that we were pursued, and that the strangers were coming up with us. I desired Lion to take another look at them, and to tell me what he thought they were.

“Comanches,” he answered, “Comanches, there’s no doubt about it.”

“Is there any place we can hope to reach where we can defend ourselves better than in the open plain?” I asked.

“None, none that I know of,” was the answer.

“Then let us halt at once, before we have exhausted our strength, and fight it out like men,” said I.

My companions listened to my appeal. Silas stopped his horses, and unharnessing them, placed them at one end of the waggon, while we secured our steeds at the other end. A few boxes and bales which the waggon contained, with some stout poles ready in case of necessity to repair it, were tumbled out, and with them we formed a very imperfect barricade for our defence. Scarcely were our fortifications finished than the hoarse voices of the Indians uttering their war-whoops were borne down to our ears on the breeze. They approached. There could be no doubt about their intentions. They were in their war-paint. Brandishing their gaily ornamented spears with horrible shrieks, which I own, in spite of my resolution, made me feel very uncomfortable, on they came on their mustangs at full tilt towards us. We cocked our rifles and stood ready to receive them, resolving if they wanted our scalps to make them pay dearly before they got them.

Chapter Six

On they come – Order of Battle – Numbers prevail – Ready and Peter save my Scalp – Unlooked-for Aid – Our Wounds are dressed – Shelter on the Verge of Civilisation

The two skulls were still in view, as the shrieks of the Comanches grew louder and louder, and the sight of these mouldering relics determined our party to conquer or to perish in the attempt. On came the Comanches, their mustangs at full gallop, and their gay trappings fluttering in the breeze. Their object was, apparently, to alarm and unnerve us before they approached. I looked round at the countenances of my companions, to judge how far I could depend on them. Ready was the most pugnacious, as he stood up with his front paws on a chest, growling and snarling. There was a dogged resolution in Peter’s face, which satisfied me that he would fight to the death; while Silas Slag and Senior Jack Lion were sufficiently cool and determined to make me feel I could depend on them. The other men looked as if they wished that they were anywhere else, but at the same time would stand to their colours if their comrades did.

“Now, lads, reserve your fire till I give the word,” I exclaimed. “Let each of you select his man. Fire one after the other, not all together on any account, and it will be hard if each of us don’t hit his man. Load again as fast as you can, and be ready for the rest who may venture to come on.”

What I said encouraged my companions, and the plan which had at that moment suggested itself to me gave me a confidence I had not before felt.

“Now, all steady,” I cried. “You, Silas Slag, will fire first, Jack Lion next, I will take the third and fourth shots with my double-barrel. Peter, you follow me, Sam Noakes next, and, Paul, don’t fire till your father has shot his man.”

The Indians had got within fifty yards of us, imagining that they would make us on easy prey. I gave the word. Silas looked calmly along his rifle. He fired, and as the smoke cleared away, an Indian was seen to fall from his horse. Jack Lion’s trigger was pulled an instant afterwards, with the same success. I felt terribly cool; not at all as if I was about to take the life of one or more human beings. I have been far more flurried when a pheasant has got up close under my nose. Two of our enemies had fallen. I fired both my barrels, and two more mustangs were galloping away without riders. Still the Indians came on. Peter showed that my instructions had not been thrown away on him. He fired with steadiness, and though the Indian at whom he aimed still sat his horse, the lance he held fell from his hand. One of our party missed altogether, but the rest hit, if they did not kill, the Indians they had picked out. Silas, Lion, and I had our pieces reloaded before our enemies were upon us. With terrific shrieks they came close up to us, when we each knocked over another of the yelping band. This was more than they expected, and having endeavoured in vain to leap their steeds over the barricade which protected us, they wheeled round and galloped off to a distance.

Our party shouted with satisfaction, but we soon perceived that our foes had not retreated. After hovering about for some time, and apparently consulting together, they again formed a dense body and advanced at full speed towards us. Hoping that the same plan we had before adopted would succeed, we were waiting to fire, when the horsemen, separating, swept round to the right and left with the evident intention of taking us in the rear. Though there was no barricade on that side, we had the waggon to protect us; but then our horses were exposed, and might either be killed or carried off.

“We are in a fix, I guess,” exclaimed Silas Slag; “but never say die, lads; I have been in a worse one than this, and am still alive.” This address infused new courage into the rest of the men.

The Indians, finding that our small band was far more formidable than they expected, had become very wary, and kept hovering around on every side, just beyond reach of our rifles. Bound and round they swept, making various feints, for the purpose of wearing out our courage, I suppose. This, however, gave us time to make further preparations for their reception.

By cutting some holes in the awning of the waggon, and replacing a few chests and bags on one side of it, we turned it into a little fortress, likely to prove of service against enemies on horseback, armed only with spears and bows and arrows. Our chief cause for fear was, that some of them might dismount, when they would be much more formidable at close quarters. They did not, however, seem inclined to attempt such a proceeding. Now with loud shrieks they advanced, and then wheeling round, off they went as if in fall flight, but in another moment they were again advancing towards us with threatening gestures. I thought they would turn, but no; on they came from each quarter of the compass, shouting, shrieking, and flourishing their spears. The next instant a flight of arrows came flying among us, compelling us to sink down under our barricade to avoid them. This was no easy matter. One grazed my shoulder, and another went through Peter’s hat, and for a moment I thought he was wounded.

“Fire, lads!” I shouted, “steady as before.” I, with two of the men, sprang into the waggon to receive our enemies, and as they approached, we fired in quick succession; but, very naturally, our aim was not so steady as before, and still on they came, shrieking terrifically.

As the Indians got within thirty paces of us, without stopping the speed of their mustangs, they for an instant dropped their lances, and grasping their bows, let fly another shower of arrows. Then on they came more rapidly than before. I did not look round to see who was struck. I felt a sharp pang in my side where an arrow was quivering. I trusted that it was not poisoned; it had come through the tilt of the waggon. I had no time to draw it out, for the point of a red warrior’s spear was close to me. I had fired one barrel, but I had the second loaded. I pulled the trigger. The Indian sprang forward, the spear passed on one side, and he fell dead at my feet, while his horse, turning aside, galloped off.