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Updated: May 23, 2025
The Englishmen instantly took possession of the wreck, whose deck was strewn with the dead and wounded. The latter were raised and cared for. "Don't touch me!" shrieked Skyrme in a frenzy of rage, and seizing a sabre in each hand he began a desperate struggle.
Oh, I beg you to be merciful and permit me, kissing the dust off your feet, to consider myself the humblest of your servants." Skyrme averted his face with an expression of loathing, while Moody kicked at the writhing figure, whom every one was eyeing with the deepest scorn. "Captain Rolls," said Barthelemy, "it appears that you have condemned this fellow?" "Only accused, not condemned.
Instead of breaking the speaker's head, Skyrme raised him on his arm and, amid the loud laughter of the pirates, drew him toward Barthelemy, with whom he drained the cup of friendship, after Barthelemy had assured him, on his honor as a pirate, that he had not entered a church since his christening, and had never been in a priest's presence during his entire life.
The flag fell a second time, and with it Skyrme, whose legs were torn off by a cannon ball. The pirates lost their self-control, and rushing to the man at the helm, forced him to turn and spread their sails for flight. "Do not yield," roared Skyrme, clinging to the mast. "Shame and disgrace upon you! Stick to the ship, and rush upon her decks. Die the death of heroes!"
We shall meet to-night on the high seas a fleet of Portuguese merchant vessels forty-two ships under the convoy of two well-equipped men of war from the islands of Todos los Santos, laden with gold and goods. If you want to see a venture that will fill half the world with admiration, come with me." "Surely you won't assert that you'll conquer these forty-two ships?" asked Skyrme.
Barthelemy again motioned to Skyrme, and the latter, rushing upon the chief mate, bound him, in spite of his struggles, to the mainmast, so that he clasped it with both arms, his back turned to the crew; but, while pouring forth a continuous torrent of oaths, he still kept his pipe in his mouth. "Is there any one else who wishes to oppose me?" asked the young chief.
Skyrme, quick, don't let her elude us. Up, up, to the chase my lads!" The Fox-Hound instantly unfurled every sail; the crew of the larger ship, greedy for prey, rushed on her deck and, aided by a favorable wind, the pursuit of the unknown ship began, which, overhauled more and more by the Fox-Hound, soon disappeared with it below the horizon.
"So that is the fate of honest folk!" thought William, as the pirates' shouts of victory echoed around him, and turning to his next neighbor, he said: "Give me a drink from your calabash." The man was Skyrme. "All right, my lad!" shouted the Hercules, giving the youth a hearty slap on the shoulder, "I knew this would be the end."
All these sinister events are recounted by Mr. Skyrme with a mysterious look and a dismal shake of the head; and being taken with his drugs, and associated in the minds of his auditors with stuffed-sea-monsters, bottled serpents, and his own visage, which is a title-page of tribulation, they have spread great gloom through the minds of the people of Little Britain.
When he reached the sloop he stepped on her deck with a downcast, angry face, and answered the questions poured upon him from all sides: "Have you rum, meat, biscuit?" with "Nothing," and when, wondering at the reply, the men shook their heads, Skyrme turned to Barthelemy with quivering lips. "Captain, we are deceived, betrayed, lost." "What do you mean?"
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