The war maker : $b Being the true story of Captain George B. BoyntonSmith, Horace Herbert
History
The war maker : $b Being the true story of Captain George B. Boynton
Smith, Horace Herbert
Filibusters
However, after I had heard the report of Ah Fen, who returned in about
two weeks, bubbling over with information and gossip, I put more
confidence in what I had been told, for he repeated the same wild
story, with elaborations and variations. It was a well established fact
in the minds of Moy Sen and his followers, he said, that there actually
was a woman pirate who preyed on and destroyed the regular pirates, and
she was as much hated as we were, or more, for she had been following
that calling, with much energy, for years. It was said she had
inherited an avenging oath against the pirates from some male member
of her family, who had been a terror to them before her, and she was
carrying it out with fanatical fervor. This was the story brought in by
pirates who had escaped from junks and proas she had attacked, and who
gave thrilling accounts of her demoniacal fury in leading her men. Moy
Sen, my interpreter reported, was swearing renewed vengeance on both of
us but, inasmuch as the lady seemed to bear a charmed life, he proposed
to go after me first. He attributed to me the destruction of some
of his junks that I had never seen, while, to balance accounts, the
robbery of some of his ships which I had looted was laid at the door of
my woman contemporary. This convinced me that there was a woman pirate,
or, which I still believed to be more likely, a man masquerading as
a woman, and that the pirate chief had confused our exploits. He was
setting some sort of a trap for me, according to the inside gossip
picked up by Ah Fen, and was determined to sweep the sea clear of my
ships, at least.
I had sent the “Surprise” away as soon as she landed me, with orders to
return in a month, ostensibly in search of cargo, and pick me up. She
was about due when a man called at my hotel one evening and asked if an
English physician was stopping there. I was pointed out to him in the
billiard room and as he came toward me I recognized Captain Deverell,
but he was as formal as a stranger and I took my cue from that and did
not indicate that I knew him. He asked if he could consult with me and
I took him to my room, where he assumed a much more cordial air.
“I called,” he said, “to invite you to take a cruise with me so that we
may get better acquainted and I can show you my appreciation of your
kindness of a few weeks ago.”
“How long will you be out?” I asked.
“A week or a month; whatever time suits your pleasure.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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