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Updated: August 21, 2024
"Keep, at him, Mr Jigmaree;" and as I feared he was running us in under the land, I dived to consult the chart. There, in the cabin, I found Wagtail, Gelid, and Bang, sitting smoking on each side of the small table, with some brandy and water before them. "Ah," quoth Gelid, "ah! fighting a little? Not pleasant in the evening, certainly."
Timotheus, I may state in the bygoing, was not a Dutchman; he was fundamentally any thing but a Dutchman; but his opinion was sound, and soon verified to my cost. Jigmaree now approached. "The Captain wants you in the cabin, sir," said he. I descended, and found the skipper seated at a table with his clerk beside him, and several open letters lying before him. "Sit down, Mr Cringle."
"Crowd on sail, and after him, Master Jigmaree," said I; but as I feared lest he might lead us too near the coast, I went down into the cabin to consult the chart.
Jigmaree was close by me with a boarding pike, and our fellows were fighting with all the gallantry inherent in British sailors. For a moment the battle was poised in equal scales.
As the Wave came to the wind, she lowered down her boat, and Mr Jigmaree, the boatswain of the dockyard in Jamaica, came on board, and, touching his hat, presented his despatches to the Captain. Presently he and the skipper retired into the cabin, and all hands were inspecting the Wave in her new character of one of his Britannic Majesty's cruisers.
"Then we shall have a little sport," remarked I. Hardly had I spoken, when the brig again shortened sail, and fired a shot from her bows; then came another, and another, and another. "She shows a good set of teeth," cried Jigmaree; "nine on a side, as I am a living sinner!"
At length I handed the glass to Tailtackle again. We were at this time standing in towards the Cuba shore, with a fine breeze, and going along seven knots, as near as could be. "Give the glass to Mr Jigmaree, Mr Tailtackle, and come forward here, and see all snug."
"They have set fire to the brig; overboard! regain the schooner, or we shall all be blown into the air like peels of onions!" sung out little Jigmaree. But where was the Wave?
At length our antagonists gave way, when about fifteen of the slaves, naked barbarians, who had been ranged with muskets in their hands on the forecastle, suddenly jumped down into the waist with a yell, and came to the rescue of the Spanish part of the crew. I thought we were lost. Our people, all but Tailtackle, poor Handlead, and Jigmaree, held back.
"Load, and fire again." My men were now mad with rage, and fought more like devils than human beings. "Once more, my lads," cried I; but this time they pushed the gun so madly forward, that both it and the carriage were precipitated with a fearful crash into the hold. At the same moment a cloud of smoke burst forth from the hold. "They have fired the brig," cried Jigmaree.
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