The Raiders: Being Some Passages In The Life Of John Faa, Lord And Earl Of Little Egypt
It is the Lord’s will!’
HOW ALL THIS came about I did not learn for long after, nor what was the pick that the Black Smugglers had taken at the Maxwells, though I was about to put my hands so deep in their quarrels. Nor, in truth, did I greatly care; but it is a good tale, and necessary to the proper understanding of the whole matter from the beginning. It was told to me severally by Ebenezer Hook, who on that day steered the Van Hoorn in action (which, at that time, was the name of Captain Yawkins’ brig), and also by Kennedy Maxwell, the youngest of the seven brothers who had gone for their spring cargo to the Isle of Man.
I shall try to straighten out these two tangled stories as best I may. The motive of the Maxwells was plain. Will, the eldest, had news of a tidy cargo of French brandy, German perfumes, and Vallenceens lace snug on the northern shore of Ramsay Bay. So his brothers and he set sail in the Spindrift, the little lugger of fourteen tons, which had run many cargoes and brought much joy and sorrow to the adventurous house of the Maxwells of Craigdarroch.
Now it so happened that in Ramsay Bay at that time Captain Yawkins (the head of the ‘Black’ side of the traffic, as the Maxwells chieftained the ‘White’) lay becalmed, with his boats out for towing and his sentinels on Maungold Head lest a ship of war should come and surprise him within the harbour.
It was the great Yawkins’ custom to ask for what he wanted, and if he did not get it – why then, with no more words to take it with violence superadded to revenge the ignominy of the refusal. Word was brought to him that the Galloway Maxwells were just about to lift a ‘square’ cargo of the finest ever run from the island. Some enemy no doubt took to Yawkins this news – as might well be, for the Maxwells were a little over-fond of the strong hand themselves.
Forthwith came Captain Yawkins in the grey of the morning, and from their snug hiding-place in lee of the Red Fisherman’s cottage, took the linen-wrapped webs of the fine Vallenceens, the ankers of French brandy, and the cases of the sweet-smelling water of Cologne. The Red Fisherman ran to the shore as the men from Yawkins’ longboat were landing, and with his fingers to his mouth gave the ‘gled’s whistle’ – the piercing signal agreed upon between himself and his employers, the Maxwells.
Up tumbled these seven dark-haired men from the tiny forepeak and from under the spread sail. In the stillness of the morning they could hear the rattle of their own beloved casks as they were swung into the boat of their adversary. Now the Maxwells were no long-suffering persons, and it had not been like them to let their goods go without an effort.
With his sheath-knife ready at his hip, Will Maxwell cut the rope of their small anchor as it ran over the stern.
‘Away with the foresail!’ he cried.
In a trice the great brown sail, barkened with tanpit juice as was Galloway wont, mounted steadily aloft and took the wind. Will Maxwell ordered his crew to haul the sheet aft, and in a moment the dainty little lugger was dancing over the ripples, running straight for the robber longboat, which was now reaching out for Captain Yawkins’ ship that lay in the offing at the mouth of the bay, just under Maungold Head.
Will Maxwell handled his little craft well. She came away with the breeze in her great square of sail faster than anything else would have done in that light wind, the ripples talking briskly under her forefoot, lapping and making a pleasant noise. So Kennedy Maxwell says, and he wonders how he had time to think on these things. He also admired much to see a black corbie of the great sea breed chase a pirate gull, and force it to drop a fish it had just taken from one of the white-breasted sea-birds which were wheeling and plunging about. Kennedy Maxwell says that he felt himself upon a similar quest.
But the bay was so narrow and the rowing-boat came on so fast that the man in the stern sheets had only time to cry, ‘Hold off, you lubbers, or you’ll run us down!’ before the prow of the Spindrift crashed right along the larboard side of the ship’s long-boat, carrying away the oar-blades before there was time to ship them. Six of the Maxwells tumbled into the longboat in a moment and were hard at it with fist and whinger, while Will stayed aboard and made fast to the stern with his boathook.
The brothers had a great advantage in leaping from a height, and it may be that the Black Smugglers did not fight at all up to their reputation. Indeed, except that peppery Welshman, Ap Evans, in the stern sheets, no one of them had much heart in the business. Moreover, a jollyboat did not give them fair scope for the display of their powers. They required the sweep of a ship’s deck, and there, as we shall see, they were no cowards.
Ap Evans gave David Maxwell a long, slashing cut down the outer arm, which bothered him for many a day. But he was soon held by Kennedy, who had never before seen the blood flow, and was therefore the most heedless, while black-bearded Will from the lugger kept the others quiet with a pistol. It took no long time for the active brothers to get their cargo on board their own boat again and sail away, feeling themselves very big men indeed – a sentiment which, however, did not make them any the safer.
As they cast loose Will Maxwell cried, ‘My compliments to Captain Yawkins, and thank him kindly for his assistance in getting our stuff aboard. It was freendly done. Say that I’ll no forget it.’
‘The devil fly away with you, for an ugly Galloway stot!’ cried Ap Evans, the Welshman, his twinkling grey eyes contracted as to their pupils till the black within them shrunk to the merest pin-points. Kennedy says that he noticed this particularly, for it reminded him of their grim-cat Toby when he was watching the cage-bird.
So the seven bold brothers bore away with no greater damage than a cutlass slash, which did not yet bother David much, the wound not having had time to stiffen.
All this time Captain Yawkins was not idle. He had been awakened from his morning sleep by the news that his attempt on the Maxwells’ cargo was likely to fall awry. So being, like all his kind, both swift and energetic, he at once ordered his boats out, made haste to get his anchor up, cast loose his Long Toms, and prepared to intercept the daring lads of Galloway as soon as they came between him and the shore.
This he might possibly have done, but it so happened that just when Will Maxwell was bandying compliments with old Ap Evans, the smugglers’ watch set on Maungold Head signalled that there was danger approaching. Thrice the signal came, in a way that could not be misunderstood. Indeed it had been made before, but so intent were the men aboard of the Van Hoorn on watching the affray of the boats that not an eye had seen the first signals.
Round the Head, beating up from the south in the light wind, came a vessel with tall spars sweeping the sky.
‘A myriad devils,’ cried Skipper Yawkins, ‘we have watched these landlubbers overlong. We shall lose our ship. Here she comes. By the weathercock of Krabbendyk, ’tis the Seahorse, boys – sloop of war of eighteen guns. See the jack at her mizzen. Mark their sky scrapers. She means to have us, boys, but then I mean that she shall not. Captain Yawkins is not the man to be fooled twice in a morning.’
The men bustled about the decks – Dago rats and broad- beamed Dutchmen, hill country gypsies taken to smuggling – and the whole crew of outlaw men gave a rousing cheer, for they were angry and wanted to have it out with someone. Before the guns were cast loose and their muzzle sheetings removed Ap Evans came on board, and his strident voice was to be heard setting the men to their quarters, for Captain Yawkins fought his brig like a king’s ship. Indeed many a king’s ship was less well found. Two Long Tom stern chasers looked over the taffrail, six twelve-pounder carronades grinned through the ports; and besides these there was Yawkins’ pet, a fine new twenty-four pounder on the forecastle, just shipped and never yet fired.
Out between the heads of Ramsay Bay the Galloway lugger went spinning. In ordinary times she would have got a shot across her bows to heave her to, but Lieutenant Mountenay of the Seahorse