Part 76

"Scamp!" shouted the third.

But they went below,--mumbling many an imprecation upon the head of the crafty Robert Surcouf.

That night the wind freshened, the waves rose, and the good ship Creole pitched and tossed upon them, like a leaf. The Committee-men were very ill, for they were landsmen, and Surcouf's smile expanded.

"Take us ashore! Take us ashore!" cried one. "We must get upon land."

Surcouf even laughed. Everything was as he wished.

"I will land you upon one condition only," said he. "Destroy the indictment against me and my ship. Write a document to the effect that you have found no traces of slaves upon my staunch craft. Say that my boat was driven from her anchor by a tidal wave--and you can put your feet upon solid ground."

The three Commissioners scowled, but he had them. Besides they were sea-sick.

In an hour's time, the desired paper had been drawn up. The Creole was headed for the Mauritius,--and, in eight days, the sad but wiser Commissioners were brooding over the smartness of Robert Surcouf when seated in their own snug little homes. "He is a rascal," said one. "He's a slick and wily cur."

So much reputation came to the young mariner--at this exploit--that he was soon offered the command of the Emilie: a privateer of one hundred and eighty tons and four guns. He accepted with glee, but when about to go to sea, the Governor refused him Letters of Marque.

"What shall I do?" asked the crest-fallen Robert, approaching the owners of the trim and able craft.

"Sail for the Seychelles (Islands off the east coast of Africa) for a cargo of turtles," said they. "If you fail to find these; fill up with corn, cotton and fruit. Fight shy of all English cruisers, and battle if you have to."

Surcouf bowed.

"I am not a regular privateer," he answered. "For I have no Letters of Marque. But I can defend myself if fired upon, and am an armed vessel in war-time. I may yet see some fighting."

He was not to be disappointed.

While at anchor at the Seychelles, two large and fat English men-of-war appeared in the offing. Surcouf had to run for it.

Steering in among the many little islets, which here abound, he navigated the dangerous channels and got safely off, his men crying,

"Voilà! Here is a genius. We did well to ship with such a master!"

But the gallant Surcouf soon turned from privateer to pirate.

South of the Bay of Bengal, a cyclone struck the Emilie and she was steered for Rangoon, where--

"The flying fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder, Outer China across the Bay."

And here a British vessel steered for her: white-winged, saucy, vindictive-looking.

She came on valiantly, and, when within a hundred yards, pumped a shot across the bow of the drowsing Emilie. It meant "Show your colors."

Hoisting the red, white and blue of France, Surcouf replied with three scorching shots. One struck the Britisher amid-ships, and pumped a hole in her black boarding.

Like a timid girl, the Englishman veered off, hoisted her topsail, and tried to get away. She saw that she had caught a tartar.

The blood was up of the "Man from St. Malo." "I consider the shot across my bows as an attack," said he, and he slapped on every stitch of canvas, so that the Emilie was soon abreast of the Britisher. Boom! A broadside roared into her and she struck her colors. Bold Robert Surcouf had passed the Rubicon,--he had seen the English flag lowered to him, for the first time; and his heart swelled with patriotic pride, in spite of the fact that this was an act of piracy, for which he could be hanged to the yard-arm.

"On! On!" cried Surcouf. "More captures! More prizes!"

Three days later three vessels carrying rice fell into his hands,--one of which,--a pilot-brig--was appropriated in place of the Emilie, which had a foul, barnacled bottom and had lost her speed. The Diana, another rice-carrier--was also captured--and Robert Surcouf headed for the Mauritius: pleased and happy.

A few days later, as the vessels pottered along off the river Hooghly, the cry came: