But it will be necessary for me to explain for what purpose the Dart was
here. She had been dispatched by government to cruise among the Leeward
Islands, and about Cape St. Antonio, in quest of a daring band of
pirates, who, trusting to their superior prowess and the fleetness of
their vessel, a schooner called the Sea-Sprite, had long scourged the
merchantmen of the Indian seas with impunity. Cruiser after cruiser had
been sent out to attack them in vain. She had invariably escaped, until
at length, in reality, they were left for awhile, the undisputed
'rulers of the waves,' as they vauntingly styled themselves. It was said
of the Sea-Sprite, that she was as fleet as the winds, and as mysterious
in her movements; and her master spirit, the fierce Juan Piesta, was as
wily and fierce a robber, as ever prowled upon the western waters.
Indeed, so wonderful and various had been his escapes, that many of the
Spaniards, and the lower orders of seamen in general, believed him to be
leagued with the Powers of Darkness!
But the Dart had been fitted up for the present cruise expressly on
account of her matchless speed, and our captain, generally known in the
service by the significant appellation of Old Satan West, was, in
situations where fighting or peril formed any part of the story, a full
match for his namesake.
* * * * *
After cruising about the western extremity of Cuba, for nearly a month,
to no purpose, we bore away for the southern coast of St. Domingo, and
at the time my story opens, were off Jacquemel. The morning was heralded
onward by troops of clouds, of the most brilliant and burning hues--deep
crimson ridges--fire-fringed volumes of purple, hanging far in the
depths of the mild and beautiful heaven--long, rose-tinted and golden
plumes, stretching up from the horizon to the zenith,--forming
altogether a most gorgeous and magnificent spectacle, while, to complete
the pageant, the sun, just rising from his ocean lair, shed a flood of
glaring light far over the restless expanse toward us, and every rope
and spar of our vessel, begemmed with bright dew-drops, flashed and
twinkled in his beams, like the jeweled robes of a princely bride.
"Fore top there! what's that away in the wake o' the sun?" called out
Mr. Dacres.
"A drifting spar, I believe, Sir--but the sun throws such a glare on the
water I cannot see plainly."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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