Ocean Link
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The next day, while the men were busy in their boats cutting more cable, Captain Mudge and Lieutenant Cottle stood on the quarterdeck gazing at a huge ship that was heading for them. The first lieutenant had been studying her from his post near the bow of the schooner, and with some amusement, he noted the change in Captain Mudge’s attitude.
For an hour or so, while she remained out of sight behind the breakers, the captain stood like one who is watching a snake charmer; now and again he would lean forward and make a remark to Cottle or himself, but then go back to observing her through half-closed lids.
Then, when they could see her only as far away as the mastheads, the captain suddenly came alive and ran up on deck, his hat in hand. “A brig!”
“What do you mean, sir?” asked Cottle in surprise.
Mudge grinned down at him. “It’ll be a big prize if it turns out anything like my last brig.”
Cottle smiled wryly. “That’s quite a story you have there.”
“It’ll keep me going,” said Mudge cheerfully, “till I’ve made enough money to buy myself a new boat.” He glanced down at the small vessel tied alongside the ship and pointed at the two oarsmen standing on the taffrail, rowing steadily along the side. “And this here will get me to her before that damned wind changes, and she gets off my track. And I’m in no mood to wait.”
The little rowboat was lashed to the starboard rail, ready for use by the moment a shout was given to launch. As soon as the signal came, Mudge jumped into the boat and started rowing with all possible speed towards the brig. The two sailors followed. Mudge was in his element as he pulled the oars vigorously and watched for every chance to cut a few lengths ahead of the brig.
In an hour, the distance between them had increased considerably, so the captain gave orders to turn the schooner about and head in pursuit. When he judged they were sufficiently close to take advantage of a favorable wind, he ordered his men below decks. They spent the rest of the day in preparing foodstuffs, repairing sails, sharpening knives, and polishing boots.
When night came Mudge ordered all lights put out except one lamp burning at the stern. A sailor manned this, while the other three sat around talking quietly. At last one of them yawned and stretched sleepily.
“It looks as if we’d be stuck here until daylight,” said the man. “It’s been too long a watch since the last time we got to eat. It’s just my luck I should fall asleep.”
The others laughed softly. The man looked at them sharply, but then shrugged and went over to a small chest beside the door.
He opened it and began rummaging among the jumble within, finally pulling out a packet wrapped in oilskin.
“What are you looking for there, lad?” said one of the others.
But the sleeper didn’t answer. He pulled open the packet, took a pinch of something from it, and then stuffed his hand back into the chest and fished out another handful. The others stared at him curiously as he returned to his place by the chest and continued stuffing his pockets with the contents of the packet.
After a second he nodded, satisfied. With a sigh he settled back against the bulkhead, still smiling.
“What did you find?” asked Cottle.
“Soot,” replied Mudge. “We’ll need it if we’re going to be on that brig’s deck when she makes her run for us.”
The first lieutenant glanced out into the blackness, wondering if it really was that cold and dark outside. “I think we ought to have a look at it.”
Mudge shook his head. “No. It’s better we don’t know what we’re up against.”
Cottle smiled grimly. “You know I wouldn’t argue with you, Captain.”
“Then I hope I won’t ever see your face again.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Cottle turned to Mudge. “I’ve heard you mention in the past how much you hate being a prisoner.”
Mudge looked out across the darkness at nothing and then shook his head slowly. “Not any more than you do, my dear Lieutenant. Not after the Spanish galleon.”
“The one where the Spanish captain refused to accept your ransom?”
Mudge nodded. “And he had every right not to want to pay it since that was the same galleon that had captured me. But he had no right to kill me.”
“And yet you were glad when you found out he was dead?”
“Of course I was. He killed my mate and my boat boy. He had every right to kill me. Only he didn’t. He died in the end. So now we’re even. If anyone is entitled to kill me it’s him.” He sighed. “Still, there are times when it does seem good to be on board a ship.”
“And there are moments when you would give anything to get back onto one?”
“Sometimes that seems like a better idea,” said Mudge quietly. “But then there are times when the sea itself is my prison.”
***
The next morning, as the schooner approached the brig, they could see her clearly through the heavy grey rain. Mudge had kept them under canvas during the night and steered directly for the brig so as to avoid being seen.
The two ships were only thirty miles apart, but they would sail by without coming together because it was impossible to pass so close without both ships’ guns being brought to bear upon each other.
The crew watched nervously as the brig appeared ahead of them, it’s main topsail flying, and then suddenly, as if by magic, her topgallant sails unfurled as well. She was coming up at the schooner fast. Her colors were up and the ensign snapped above her quarterdeck as she bore down on them. The captain stood at the wheel watching intently. When Mudge came up behind him with his spyglass he raised it to his eye and gazed through it at the approaching vessel.
“She looks very fast and very seaworthy,” observed Cottle.
“Aye. She certainly looks as though she’s ready to run us down like an arrow shot from a bow.”
“So why did she stop her chase? Why didn’t she keep sailing up on our heels?”
Mudge turned away from the spyglass and gazed over at the captain. “Maybe she’s not chasing, after all, sir. Maybe she doesn’t want to attack the schooner—maybe she’s trying to buy some time to get off the coast and escape before we can catch her.”
“What?”
“It was her topgallant sails that caught us the first night.”
Cottle frowned. “So?”
“So maybe she’s just waiting until the weather clears and then she’ll go on by. And that means—”
The ship’s bell rang for full speed, followed immediately by a blast on the horn.
The captain of the brig gave a low shout of warning, and as Mudge turned to look aft, he saw that he’d been right. In response, the ship’s gunners began to fire their broadside. At first, they were firing high, but quickly the ship was running closer, and the guns began to come into line.
As they fired, the schooner was forced further and further to the larboard tack, the direction that the wind was coming from.
The captain called to his helmsman to bring the schooner around. He looked over at Mudge. “If she comes on too strong, sir, you should be able to hold her off with those guns of yours.”
Mudge shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain. We can’t fight her head-on, and we certainly can’t turn this ship around and make a run for the open sea.”
“We have to try, Mr Mudge. We have to try!”
Mudge shook his head. “Captain, the best thing we can do right now is just to keep out of her way.” He pointed to the schooner. “That big one over there looks as if she might run us down.”
The captain glanced up with a puzzled expression. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, aye, Captain.” Mudge smiled. “Just as soon as that one starts to move. It’s got a hell of a long way to travel and we’ve done most of the work already.”
The ship’s bell rang again, and Mudge looked up at the ensign snapping above the sterncastle. The signal was repeated twice more, once more with a blast on the horn as well, and then finally one more time by itself.
The captain stared across at him, frowning, and then at last he nodded and waved the helmsman forward. The ship turned sharply to larboard, the same tack the brig was approaching from, and the two ships were moving away from each other. The captain of the schooner stood staring aft at the pursuing ship.
“How many men have she got?”
“A hundred and twenty.”
“A hundred and twenty!” cried the captain. “There’s no way we can fight her.”
“Yes, but maybe the brig will give her up before too long. Let me know if she does anything foolish.”
He turned and went up to the quarterdeck, leaving the captain looking back over his shoulder at Mudge. The schooner’s captain had given her course and he stared ahead at the oncoming vessel. They were almost within range of their guns now and she was still coming straight on.
The schooner’s captain had seen Mudge watching him and smiled as he returned the salute. Then his eyes widened as he took in Mudge’s appearance; the bloodshot eyes, the bruised face, and especially the cutlass at his side. His smile froze in place and he turned away to shout orders to his gunners.
They fired again. Again there was a brief exchange of broadsides. There was something about the way that the brig responded that Mudge found disturbing. It wasn’t quite as easy to hit her from so far away when they couldn’t see her clearly.
He felt a little queasy; it reminded him of how he’d felt in battle during the mutiny when his mind had been too busy dealing with the immediate threat to think of the consequences afterward. He watched as the schooner slowly swung around, then turned his attention back to the pursuing ship.
She was only a mile or two away now. She hadn’t fired any shots herself yet, but Mudge could imagine that she was preparing to do exactly as he feared: run up alongside and board him. If they did that, they’d have to take the schooner by force, and while the schooner might be small enough that they could capture it without too much difficulty, what they’d gain would be a useless wreck.
They wouldn’t even get the valuable cargo aboard that they needed for the voyage north; it was all tied down below decks. Even if they managed to board it, the crew would probably kill them. It was better to avoid fighting altogether—or at least to try and find some other way out of it.
The brig slowed slightly and then turned sharply to port. Mudge frowned, puzzled. Had she changed her mind? Was she going to let him go? It seemed impossible that such a large ship as that would simply let another pass.
Suddenly, as if it had heard his thoughts, the brig’s sails filled with wind, and the ship came rushing past like an arrow released from its bow. In a moment she’d disappeared behind the horizon.
Mudge stared after her for a moment and then started forward. As he crossed the deck he noticed the first mate, a man in his late thirties whom Mudge knew vaguely.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
The first mate shrugged. “She ran off because our captain is not a very popular man,” he said. “If you look closely enough, you’ll see his name carved into the bowsprit.”
Mudge looked carefully; it was indeed true. “I suppose that’s why she stopped firing on us.”
“Aye.” The first mate sighed. “That was just as I expected.” He paused, then added, “Do you have any idea where she’s headed?”
“North, I believe.”
“Ah, you’re right. That will make our lives a little easier.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Have you ever considered becoming a member of our crew, Mister…” He hesitated. “Mudge… ?”
“Aye, I know.” Mudge smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, please call me Jack,” said the first mate quickly. “My friends do. And thank you for your help.”
“It was nothing, really.” He smiled at the man. “Now if you don’t mind, I must get below decks. There’s work to be done, and I haven’t had time to eat yet.”
“You won’t need to worry about eating tonight,” said the first mate. “We’ve still got plenty of provisions left.”
Mudge laughed. “You sound like a pirate already!”
The first mate grinned and raised a hand in farewell. “Good luck to you! Now get out of here.”
The End