Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 18, No. 3, September 18, 1926
- Автор: Bailey H. C., Bechdolt Jack
- Год: 1926
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 18, No. 3, September 18, 1926». Краткое содержание книги:
Ramming and firing for their very lives yet keeping their brains cool and eyes clear for the deadliest precision they could summon the men of the Victoire made every gun do the work of two; and every shot went home. Meanwhile, of course, the other ship was riddling the Victoire and playing havoc with it.
The brave have a faith that even in the midst of blackest misfortune they can count on the grace of good luck. Perhaps never was this faith so well borne out as in this fight.
For one of the shots from the Victoire shrewdly found its way into the very bowels of the Winchelsea. Where the shot struck timber took fire and iron broke into sparks. And one of the sparks lit on the powder magazine.
To the desperate men on board the Victoire it seemed as if a timely bolt from the heavens had struck. One moment the Winchelsea was belching flame at them from the muzzles of its cannon. The next moment and with a roar mightier than all its forty cannon together the great warship broke in two, a bursting volcano in its midst.
Even those on board the Victoire were shaken by the explosion. Still more were they shaken by the unexpected turn of destiny’s whirligig. Between black despair to radiant hope only the flicker of an eyelash intervened.
What became of the Winchelsea has remained one of the mysteries of marine history. For reasons we shall amply learn the Victoire never reported the loss of the Britisher. From what we know of the explosion the ship must have broken in two. But some time later at the end of a great storm the head of the ship floated ashore at Antigua.
On board the Victoire her new commander and what was left of the crew, were still stunned with the unexpectedness of their salvation. Then Francois turned to his men:
“Ours is the victory! And ours is the Victoire! It is by your consent that I am in command, and it is your consent I ask to make my comrade, Caraccioli, my lieutenant!”
Captain, Supreme
Caraccioli was lying in a pool of his own blood. One of the Winchelsea cannon balls had carried away his left leg. With rough sea surgery a man was binding up the stump as best he could. Even when he was down Caraccioli had helped direct the fighting. So it was with unanimous acclaim that the crew gave Francois the lieutenant for which he asked.
It was a curious, momentous speech of acceptance that Caraccioli made. His face was drawn with pain, but when he spoke it was as if some other man had just lost his leg, so little did his thoughts run on himself. He thanked Francois for the honor of the appointment. He thanked the men for their hearty endorsement of him. Then he proceeded to propose a plan as bold as had been the fight they had so unexpectedly won.
He pointed out to Francois that they were now masters of their own fate. “If we go back to Martinique to our superiors, the most that you, Francois, can hope for is a lieutenant’s commission. Whereas now you are captain, supreme.
“And all that you, my comrades of the crew, may expect is perhaps a pat on the back and a continuance of your lives as common ordinary sailors subject to the orders of a captain who obeys an admiral, who obeys a minister, who obeys a monarch! All these have a power of life and death over us.”
A Deo a Libertate
“But as yet we are free men. We can still dispose of our lives and fortunes as we will. Shall we keep this freedom? Or shall we return it to our masters?”
Francois was shaken to the heart by this challenge. And among the crew an agitated murmur ran. Caraccioli pressed his advantage.
“You, Francois, and you, my friends, have often spoken idly of wanting to be not subjects to a king, but free citizens in a better world, in which liberty and equality of rights prevailed. You have wished for an ideal republic. Well, here it is, the republic of the Victoire! What say you, Captain Misson? Shall we raise the flag of our own little republic and remain free, defending it against the world?”
“Yes!” roared Francois passionately.
“Yes!” roared the crew. “Long live our little republic! Long live our Captain Misson! Long live our Lieutenant Caraccioli!”
The other officers of the little republic were chosen by the crew with inspiring unanimity. Misson then put the question as to whither the republic literally was to go. It was decided for the Spanish West Indies.
The question next came up what was to be the flag. To most of the men there was but one alternative. They knew that a ship flew either the flag of its country or the black flag of piracy. So that a cry arose for the skull and crossbones on the field of black. But Caraccioli objected.
“We are not pirates, but lovers of liberty! We are not fighting to amass loot, but to put down tyranny!”
To all this the young captain more than agreed. And it was at his suggestion that there was adopted as their flag a white field on which the motto was inscribed A Deo a Libertate — for God and Liberty.
Then followed perhaps the most amazing scene in the annals of what I suppose must be called piracy, since most readers will agree with most of the Victoire’s crew as putting the color of piracy on the expedition. The ship’s money was brought up from the cabin and put into a great chest.
“This money, my friends,” announced the captain, “belongs to us all in common. It shall be divided, with equal share to every man on board, be he captain or cabin boy. To this money I add the silver of the captain’s plate service. Everything we have on board belongs to every one of you!”
But the crew objected. A spokesman for them presented their point of view. “The captain’s plate service must remain part of the captain’s cabin furnishings. His cabin must be worthy of the post and the man we honor!”
Thus the question of possession was dismissed as settled. Misson went on to address his crew, urging them to live in harmony among themselves.
The Republic of the Sea
“But you will have to fight the whole world, I am afraid. For society will declare us to be pirates, and not only close its ports to us, but will send its warships to destroy us if they can. That means war and we shall not be the unprepared victims. I now, hereby, in the name of the Republic of the Sea, declare war against all nations who will so judge us!
“At the same time I recommend to you, my brothers, a humane and generous behavior toward all prisoners you will take. We cannot expect to meet the same treatment from others should we encounter ill fortune. But all the more compulsory is it upon us to show a nobility greater than those on whom we wage war!”
A muster of the crew showed two hundred fit for duty and thirty-five sick and wounded. Then the Republic of the Sea set out on its cruise of conquest. In the Windward Channel they came on a becalmed Boston schooner from which they took a supply of sugar.
The captain, thinking the Victoire still a French man-of-war, declared later that he had never been more civilly treated. Later a Jamaica privateersman fell into their hands. From this they took only ammunition and allowed it to proceed otherwise unmolested.
But their next encounter was a less polite one. They came on two Dutch traders, one with twenty-two guns, the other with twenty-four. The Dutchmen refused to surrender. One on each side of the Victoire they kept up a stubborn defense until Misson lost his patience.
The Cornerstone Slips
Regardless of the Dutchmen’s belching guns he ran his ship alongside one of them, tied up to it, then pressing the muzzles of his cannon against her side, he gave the order to fire. With great holes rent in her hull the Dutchman went down to the bottom of the sea, carrying every living person along with her.