Salute to Adventurers - John Buchan
Judge, then, of my disgust when I got news a week later that one of my
ships, the Ayr brig, had straggled from the convoy, and been seized,
rifled, and burned to the water by pirates almost in sight of Cape
Charles. The loss was grievous, but what angered me was the mystery of
such a happening. I knew the brig was a slow sailer, but how in the
name of honesty could she be suffered in broad daylight to fall into
such a fate? I remembered the hostility of the Englishmen, and feared
she had had foul play. Just after Christmas-tide I expected two ships
to replenish the stock in my store. They arrived safe, but only by the
skin of their teeth, for both had been chased from their first entrance
into American waters, and only their big topsails and a favouring wind
brought them off. I examined the captains closely on the matter, and
they were positive that their assailant was not Cosh or any one of his
kidney, but a ship of the Brethren, who ordinarily were on the best of
terms with our merchantmen.
My suspicions now grew into a fever. I had long believed that there was
some connivance between the pirates of the coast and the English
traders, and small blame to them for it. 'Twas a sensible way to avoid
trouble, and I for one would rather pay a modest blackmail every month
or two than run the risk of losing a good ship and a twelve-month's
cargo. But when it came to using this connivance for private spite, the
thing was not to be endured.
In March my doubts became certainties. I had a parcel of gold coin
coming to me from New York in one of the coasting vessels--no great
sum, but more than I cared to lose. Presently I had news that the ship
was aground on a sandspit on Accomac, and had been plundered by a
pirate brigantine. I got a sloop and went down the river, and, sure
enough, I found the vessel newly refloated, and the captain, an old New
Hampshire fellow, in a great taking. Piracy there had been, but of a
queer kind, for not a farthing's worth had been touched except my
packet of gold. The skipper was honesty itself, and it was plain that
the pirate who had chased the ship aground and then come aboard to
plunder, had done it to do me hurt, and me alone.
All this made me feel pretty solemn. My uncle was a rich man, but no
firm could afford these repeated losses. I was the most unpopular
figure in Virginia, hated by many, despised by the genteel, whose only
friends were my own servants and a few poverty-stricken landward folk.
I had found out a good way of trade, but I had set a hornet's nest
buzzing about my ears, and was on the fair way to be extinguished. This
alliance between my rivals and the Free Companions was the last straw
to my burden. If the sea was to be shut to him, then a merchant might
as well put up his shutters.
It made me solemn, but also most mightily angry. If the stars in their
courses were going to fight against Andrew Garvald, they should find
him ready. I went to the Governor, but he gave me no comfort. Indeed,
he laughed at me, and bade me try the same weapon as my adversaries. I
left him, very wrathful, and after a night's sleep I began to see
reason in his words. Clearly the law of Virginia or of England would
give me no redress. I was an alien from the genteel world; why should I
not get the benefit of my ungentility? If my rivals went for their
weapons into dark places, I could surely do likewise. A line of Virgil
came into my head, which seemed to me to contain very good counsel:
"_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_", which means that if
you cannot get Heaven on your side, you had better try for the Devil.
But how was I to get into touch with the Devil? And then I remembered
in a flash my meeting with the sea-captain on the Glasgow stairhead and
his promise to help me, I had no notion who he was or how he could aid,
but I had a vague memory of his power and briskness. He had looked like
the kind of lad who might conduct me into the wild world of the Free
Companions.
I sought Mercer's tavern by the water-side, a melancholy place grown up
with weeds, with a yard of dark trees at the back of it. Old Mercer was
an elder in the little wooden Presbyterian kirk, which I had taken to
attending since my quarrels with the gentry. He knew me and greeted me
with his doleful smile, shaking his foolish old beard.
"What's your errand this e'en, Mr. Garvald?" he said in broad Scots.
"Will you drink a rummer o' toddy, or try some fine auld usquebaugh I
hae got frae my cousin in Buchan?"
I sat down on the settle outside the tavern door. "This is my errand. I
want you to bring me to a man or bring that man to me. His name is
Ninian Campbell."
Mercer looked at me dully.
"There was a lad o' that name was hanged at Inveraray i' '68 for
stealin' twae hens and a wether."
"The man I mean is long and lean, and his head is as red as fire. He
gave me your name, so you must know him."
His eyes showed no recognition. He repeated the name to himself,
mumbling it toothlessly. "It sticks i' my memory," he said, "but when
and where I canna tell. Certes, there's no man o' the name in
Virginia."
I was beginning to think that my memory had played me false, when
suddenly the whole scene in the Saltmarket leaped vividly to my brain.
Then I remembered the something else I had been enjoined to say.
"Ninian Campbell," I went on, "bade me ask for him here, and I was to
tell you that the lymphads are on the loch and the horn of Diarmaid has
sounded."
In a twinkling his face changed from vacancy to shrewdness and from
senility to purpose. He glanced uneasily round.
"For God's sake, speak soft," he whispered. "Come inside, man. We'll
steek the door, and then I'll hear your business."
CHAPTER VIII.
RED RINGAN.
Once at Edinburgh College I had read the Latin tale of Apuleius, and
the beginning stuck in my memory: "_Thraciam ex negotio petebam_"--"I
was starting off for Thrace on business." That was my case now. I was
about to plunge into a wild world for no more startling causes than
that I was a trader who wanted to save my pocket. It is to those who
seek only peace and a quiet life that adventures fall; the homely
merchant, jogging with his pack train, finds the enchanted forest and
the sleeping princess; and Saul, busily searching for his father's
asses, stumbles upon a kingdom.
"What seek ye with Ringan?" Mercer asked, when we had sat down inside
with locked doors.
"The man's name is Ninian Campbell," I said, somewhat puzzled.
"Well, it's the same thing. What did they teach you at Lesmahagow if ye
don't know that Ringan is the Scots for Ninian? Lord bless me, laddie,
don't tell me ye've never heard of Red Ringan?"
To be sure I had; I had heard of little else for a twelvemonth. In
every tavern in Virginia, when men talked of the Free Companions, it
was the name of Red Ringan that came first to their tongues. I had been
too occupied by my own affairs to listen just then to fireside tales,
but I could not help hearing of this man's exploits. He was a kind of
leader of the buccaneers, and by all accounts no miscreant like Cosh,
but a mirthful fellow, striking hard when need be, but at other times
merciful and jovial. Now I set little store by your pirate heroes. They
are for lads and silly girls and sots in an ale-house, and a merchant
can have no kindness for those who are the foes of his trade. So when I
heard that the man I sought was this notorious buccaneer I showed my
alarm by dropping my jaw.
Mercer laughed. "I'll not conceal from you that you take a certain risk
in going to Ringan. Ye need not tell me your business, but it should be
a grave one to take you down to the Carolina keys. There's time to draw
back, if ye want; but you've brought me the master word, and I'm bound
to set you on the road. Just one word to ye, Mr. Garvald. Keep a stout
face whatever you see, for Ringan has a weakness for a bold man. Be
here the morn at sunrise, and if ye're wise bring no weapon. I'll see
to the boat and the provisioning."
I was at the water-side next day at cock-crow, while the mist was still
low on the river. Mercer was busy putting food and a keg of water into
a light sloop, and a tall Indian was aboard redding out the sails. My
travels had given me some knowledge of the red tribes, and I spoke a
little of their language, but this man was of a type not often seen in
the Virginian lowlands. He was very tall, with a skin clear and
polished like bronze, and, unlike the ordinary savage, his breast was
unmarked, and his hair unadorned. He was naked to the waist, and below
wore long leather breeches, dyed red, and fringed with squirrels'
tails. In his wampum belt were stuck a brace of knives and a tomahawk.
It seemed he knew me, for as I approached he stood up to his full
height and put his hands on his forehead. "Brother," he said, and his
grave eyes looked steadily into mine.
Then I remembered. Some months before I had been riding back the road
from Green Springs, and in a dark, woody place had come across an
Indian sore beset by three of the white scum which infested the
river-side. What the quarrel was I know not, but I liked little the
villainous look of the three, and I liked much the clean, lithe figure
of their opponent. So I rode my horse among them, and laid on to them
with the butt of my whip. They had their knives out, but I managed to
disarm the one who attacked me, and my horse upset a second, while the
Indian, who had no weapon but a stave, cracked the head of the last. I
got nothing worse than a black eye, but the man I had rescued bled from
some ugly cuts which I had much ado stanching. He shook hands with me
gravely when I had done, and vanished into the thicket. He was a Seneca
Indian, and I wondered what one of that house was doing in the
Tidewater.
Mercer told me his name. "Shalah will take you to the man you ken. Do
whatever he tells you, Mr. Garvald, for this is a job in which you're
nothing but a bairn." We pushed off, the Indian taking the oars, and in
five minutes James Town was lost in the haze.
On the Surrey shore we picked up a breeze, and with the ebbing tide
made good speed down the estuary. Shalah the Indian had the tiller, and
I sat luxuriously in the bows, smoking my cob pipe, and wondering what
the next week held in store for me. The night before I had had qualms
about the whole business, but the air of morning has a trick of firing
my blood, and I believe I had forgotten the errand which was taking me
to the Carolina shores. It was enough that I was going into a new land
and new company. Last night I had thought with disfavour of Red Ringan
the buccaneer; that morning I thought only of Ninian Campbell, with
whom I had forgathered on a Glasgow landing.
My own thoughts kept me silent, and the Indian never opened his mouth.
Like a statue he crouched by the tiller, with his sombre eyes looking
to the sea. That night, when we had rounded Cape Henry in fine weather,
we ran the sloop into a little bay below a headland, and made camp for
the night beside a stream of cold water. Next morning it blew hard from
the north, and in a driving rain we crept down the Carolina coast. One
incident of the day I remember. I took in a reef or two, and adjusted
the sheets, for this was a game I knew and loved. The Indian watched me
closely, and made a sign to me to take the helm. He had guessed that I
knew more than himself about the handling of a boat in wind, and since
we were in an open sea, where his guidance was not needed, he preferred
to trust the thing to me. I liked the trait in him, for I take it to be
a mark of a wise man that he knows what he can do, and is not ashamed
to admit what he cannot.
That evening we had a cold bed; but the storm blew out in the night,
and the next day the sun was as hot as summer, and the wind a point to
the east. Shalah once again was steersman, for we were inside some very
ugly reefs, which I took to be the beginning of the Carolina keys. On
shore forests straggled down to the sea, so that sometimes they almost
had their feet in the surf; but now and then would come an open, grassy
space running far inland. These were, the great savannahs where herds
of wild cattle and deer roamed, and where the Free Companions came to
fill their larders. It was a wilder land than the Tidewater, for only
once did we see a human dwelling. Far remote on the savannahs I could
pick out twirls of smoke rising into the blue weather, the signs of
Indian hunting fires. Shalah began now to look for landmarks, and to
take bearings of a sort. Among the maze of creeks and shallow bays
which opened on the land side it needed an Indian to pick out a track.
The sun had all but set when, with a grunt of satisfaction, he swung
round the tiller and headed shorewards. Before me in the twilight I saw
only a wooded bluff which, as we approached, divided itself into two.
Presently a channel appeared, a narrow thing about as broad as a
cable's length, into which the wind carried us. Here it was very dark,
the high sides with their gloomy trees showing at the top a thin line
of reddening sky. Shalah hugged the starboard shore, and as the screen
of the forest caught the wind it weakened and weakened till it died
away, and we moved only with the ingoing tide. I had never been in so
eery a place. It was full of the sharp smell of pine trees, and as I
sniffed the air I caught the savour of wood smoke. Men were somewhere
ahead of us in the gloom.
Shalah ran the sloop into a little creek so overgrown with vines that
we had to lie flat on the thwarts to enter. Then, putting his mouth to
my ear, he spoke for the first time since we had left James Town. "It
is hard to approach the Master, and my brother must follow me close as
the panther follows the deer. Where Shalah puts his foot let my brother
put his also. Come."
He stepped from the boat to the hill-side, and with incredible speed
and stillness began to ascend. His long, soft strides were made without
noise or effort, whether the ground were moss, or a tangle of vines, or
loose stones, or the trunks of fallen trees, I had prided myself on my
hill-craft, but beside the Indian I was a blundering child, I might
have made shift to travel as fast, but it was the silence of his
progress that staggered me, I plunged, and slipped, and sprawled, and
my heart was bursting before the ascent ceased, and we stole to the
left along the hill shoulder.
Presently came a gap in the trees, and I looked down in the last
greyness of dusk on a strange and beautiful sight. The channel led to a
landlocked pool, maybe a mile around, and this was as full of shipping
as a town's harbour. The water was but a pit of darkness, but I could
make out the masts rising into the half light, and I counted more than
twenty vessels in that port. No light was shown, and the whole place
was quiet as a grave.
We entered a wood of small hemlocks, and I felt rather than saw the
ground slope in front of us. About two hundred feet above the water the
glen of a little stream shaped itself into a flat cup, which was
invisible from below, and girdled on three sides by dark forest. Here
we walked more freely, till we came to the lip of the cup, and there,
not twenty paces below me, I saw a wonderful sight. The hollow was lit
with the glow of a dozen fires, round which men clustered. Some were
busy boucanning meat for ship's food, some were cooking supper, some
sprawled in idleness, and smoked or diced. The night had now grown very
black around us, and we were well protected, for the men in the glow
had their eyes dazed, and could not spy into the darkness. We came very
close above them, so that I could hear their talk. The smell of
roasting meat pricked my hunger, and I realized that the salt air had
given me a noble thirst. They were common seamen from the pirate
vessels, and, as far as I could judge, they had no officer among them.
I remarked their fierce, dark faces, and the long knives with which
they slashed and trimmed the flesh for their boucanning.
Shalah touched my hand, and I followed him into the wood. We climbed
again, and from the tinkle of the stream on my left I judged that we
were ascending to a higher shelf in the glen. The Indian moved very
carefully, as noiseless as the flight of an owl, and I marvelled at the
gift. In after days I was to become something of a woodsman, and track
as swiftly and silently as any man of my upbringing. But I never
mastered the Indian art by which the foot descending in the darkness on
something that will crackle checks before the noise is made. I could do
it by day, when I could see what was on the ground, but in the dark the
thing was beyond me. It is an instinct like a wild thing's, and
possible only to those who have gone all their days light-shod in the
forest.
Suddenly the slope and the trees ceased, and a new glare burst on our
eyes. This second shelf was smaller than the first, and as I blinked at
the light I saw that it held about a score of men. Torches made of pine
boughs dipped in tar blazed at the four corners of the assembly, and in
the middle on a boulder a man was sitting. He was speaking loudly, and
with passion, but I could not make him out. Once more Shalah put his
mouth to my ear, with a swift motion like a snake, and whispered, "The
Master."
We crawled flat on our bellies round the edge of the cup. The trees had
gone, and the only cover was the long grass and the low sumach bushes.
We moved a foot at a time, and once the Indian turned in his tracks and
crawled to the left almost into the open. My sense of smell, as sharp
almost as a dog's, told me that horses were picketed in the grass in
front of us. Our road took us within, hearing of the speaker, and
though I dared not raise my head, I could hear the soft Highland voice
of my friend. He seemed now to be speaking humorously, for a laugh came
from the hearers.
Once at the crossing of a little brook, I pulled a stone into the
water, and we instantly lay as still as death. But men preoccupied with
their own concerns do not keep anxious watch, and our precautions were
needless. Presently we had come to the far side of the shelf abreast of
the boulder on which he sat who seemed to be the chief figure. Now I
could raise my head, and what I saw made my eyes dazzle.
Red Ringan sat on a stone with a naked cutlass across his knees. In
front stood a man, the most evil-looking figure that I had ever beheld.
He was short but very sturdily built, and wore a fine laced coat not
made for him, which hung to his knees, and was stretched tight at the
armpits. He had a heavy pale face, without hair on it. His teeth had
gone, all but two buck-teeth which stuck out at each corner of his
mouth, giving him the look of a tusker. I could see his lips moving
uneasily in the glare of the pine boughs, and his eyes darted about the
company as if seeking countenance.
Ringan was speaking very gravely, with his eyes shining like sword
points. The others were every make and manner of fellow, from
well-shaped and well-clad gentlemen to loutish seamen in leather
jerkins. Some of the faces were stained dark with passion and crime,
some had the air of wild boys, and some the hard sobriety of traders.
But one and all were held by the dancing eyes of the man that spoke.
"What is the judgment," he was saying, "of the Free Companions? By the
old custom of the Western Seas I call upon you, gentlemen all, for your
decision."
Then I gathered that the evil-faced fellow had offended against some
one of their lawless laws, and was on his trial.
No one spoke for a moment, and then one grizzled seaman raised his
hand, "The dice must judge," he said. "He must throw for his life
against the six."
Another exclaimed against this. "Old wives' folly," he cried, with an
oath. "Let Cosh go his ways, and swear to amend them. The Brethren of
the Coast cannot be too nice in these little matters. We are not pursy
justices or mooning girls."
But he had no support. The verdict was for the dice, and a seaman
brought Ringan a little ivory box, which he held out to the prisoner.
The latter took it with shaking hand, as if he did not know how to use
it.
"You will cast thrice," said Ringan. "Two even throws, and you are
free."
The man fumbled a little and then cast. It fell a four.
A second time he threw, and the dice lay five.
In that wild place, in the black heart of night, the terror of the
thing fell on my soul. The savage faces, the deadly purpose in Ringan's
eyes, the fumbling miscreant before him, were all heavy with horror. I
had no doubt that Cosh was worthy of death, but this cold and merciless
treatment froze my reason. I watched with starting eyes the last throw,
and I could not hear Ringan declare it. But I saw by the look on Cosh's
face what it had been.
"It is your privilege to choose your manner of death and to name your
successor," I heard Ringan say.
But Cosh did not need the invitation. Now that his case was desperate,
the courage in him revived. He was fully armed, and in a second he had
drawn a knife and leaped for Ringan's throat.
Perhaps he expected it, perhaps he had learned the art of the wild
beast so that his body was answerable to his swiftest wish. I do not
know, but I saw Cosh's knife crash on the stone and splinter, while
Ringan stood by his side.
"You have answered my question," he said quietly. "Draw your cutlass,
man. You have maybe one chance in ten thousand for your life."
I shut my eyes as I heard the steel clash. Then very soon came silence.
I looked again, and saw Ringan wiping his blade on a bunch of grass,
and a body lying before him.
He was speaking--speaking, I suppose, about the successor to the dead
man, whom two negroes had promptly removed. Suddenly at my shoulder
Shalah gave the hoot of an owl, followed at a second's interval by a
second and a third. I suppose it was some signal agreed with Ringan,
but at the time I thought the man had gone mad.
I was not very sane myself. What I had seen had sent a cold grue
through me, for I had never before seen a man die violently, and the
circumstances of the place and hour made the thing a thousandfold more
awful. I had a black fright on me at that whole company of merciless
men, and especially at Ringan, whose word was law to them. Now the
worst effect of fear is that it obscures good judgment, and makes a man
in desperation do deeds of a foolhardiness from which at other times he
would shrink. All I remembered in that moment was that I had to reach
Ringan, and that Mercer had told me that the safest plan was to show a
bold front. I never remembered that I had also been bidden to follow
Shalah, nor did I reflect that a secret conclave of pirates was no
occasion to choose for my meeting. With a sudden impulse I forced
myself to my feet, and stalked, or rather shambled, into the light.
"Ninian," I cried, "Ninian Campbell! I'm here to claim your promise."
The whole company turned on me, and I was gripped by a dozen hands and
flung on the ground. Ringan came forward to look, but there was no
recognition in his eyes. Some one cried out, "A spy!" and there was a
fierce murmur of voices, which were meaningless to me, for fear had got
me again, and I had neither ears nor voice. Dimly it seemed that he
gave some order, and I was trussed up with ropes. Then I was conscious
of being carried out of the glare of torches into the cool darkness.
Presently I was laid in some kind of log-house, carpeted with fir
boughs, for the needles tickled my face.
Bit by bit my senses came back to me, and I caught hold of my vagrant
courage.
A big negro in seaman's clothes with a scarlet sash round his middle
was squatted on the floor watching me by the light of a ship's lantern.
He had a friendly, foolish face, and I remember yet how he rolled his
eyeballs.
"I won't run away," I said, "so you might slacken these ropes and let
me breathe easy."
Apparently he was an accommodating gaoler, for he did as I wished.
"And give me a drink," I said, "for my tongue's like a stick."
He mixed me a pannikin of rum and water. Perhaps he hocussed it, or
maybe 'twas only the effect of spirits on a weary body; but three
minutes after I had drunk I was in a heavy sleep.
CHAPTER IX.
VARIOUS DOINGS IN THE SAVANNAH.
I awoke in broad daylight, and when my wits came back to me, I saw I
was in a tent of skins, with my limbs unbound, and a pitcher of water
beside me placed by some provident hand. Through the tent door I looked
over a wide space of green savannah. How I had got there I knew not;
but, as my memory repeated the events of the night, I knew I had
travelled far, for the sea showed miles away at a great distance
beneath me. On the water I saw a ship in full sail, diminished to a toy
size, careering northward with the wind.
Outside a man was seated whistling a cheerful tune. I got to my feet
and staggered out to clear my head in the air, and found the smiling
face of Ringan.
"Good-morning, Andrew," he cried, as I sat down beside him. "Have you
slept well?"