The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
The night, which at the beginning had been very bright and clear, had
suddenly become dark and stormy; black clouds surcharged with
electricity covered the whole of the sky; the breeze moaned sadly in the
rigging, and mingled with the dash of the waves against the sides of the
vessel. The brig was sailing slowly close to the wind, the only sails it
carried being double-reefed topsails, the fore staysail, and the
spanker.
At the moment when the helmsman struck the two double strokes on the
bell, indicating ten o'clock, Captain Johnson and Tranquil appeared on
deck. The Captain was dressed in a thick blue pilot coat, a leathern
belt, through which were passed a cutlass, a pair of pistols and an axe,
was fastened round his waist; a cloak was thrown over his shoulders, and
a broad-brimmed felt hat completely concealed his features. The
Canadian wore his hunter's garb, though, through the dangerous nature of
the affair, he had added a brace of pistols to his ordinary armament.
The Captain's orders have been carried out with that minute
consciousness which Master Lovel displayed in everything connected with
duty. The boarding netting was braced up, and the running rigging
secured as if for action. At the starboard ladder the longboat was
tossing with its crew of thirty men, all armed to the teeth, and holding
their oars aloft ready to dash into the water. They were, however,
muffled, so as to stifle, as far as possible, the sound of rowing, and
foil the vigilance of the Mexicans.
"That is well, lads," the Captain said, after giving a pleased glance at
their preparations, "let us be off. Mind, father," he added, turning to
Father Lovel, "that you keep a good watch. If we are not on board again
by four in the morning, stand out to sea, and do not trouble yourself
further about us; for it will be useless to wait for us longer, as we
shall be prisoners of the Mexicans; and any lengthened stay in these
waters might compromise the safety of the brig. Be of good cheer,
though, for I have hopes of success."
And after kindly pressing the old sailor's hand, he went down to the
boat, seated himself in the sternsheets by the side of the hunter, took
up the yoke lines, and said, in a low voice, "Push, off!"
At this command the painter was cast off, the oars dashed together into
the sea, and the boat started. When it had disappeared in the fog,
Master Lovel ran at full speed to the stern of the brig, and leaned over
the taffrail. "Are you there?" he said.
"Yes," a suppressed voice answered him.
"Get ready," the Master added, and then said to an old sailor, who had
followed him: "You know what I recommended to you, Wells," he said; "I
reckon on you, and intrust the lookout to you."
"All right, Master," the sailor answered, "you can cut your cable
without fear, I will keep a bright lookout."
"All right; get in, men, and double-bank the oars."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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