- end_line
- 2579
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.535Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2522
- text
- black hour for them. Of a sudden, while they were handling the tiller,
three muskets were rapidly discharged upon them from the cabin
skylight. Two of the savages dropped dead. The old steersman, clutching
wildly at the helm, fell over it, mortally wounded; and in a wild panic
at seeing their leaders thus unaccountably slain, the rest of the
natives leaped overboard and made for the shore.
Hearing the slashing, Samoa flew on deck; and beholding the foresail
set, and the brigantine heading right out to sea, he cried out to
Annatoo, still aloft, to descend to the topsail-yard, and loose the
canvas there. His command was obeyed. Annatoo deserved a gold medal for
what she did that day. Hastening down the rigging, after loosing the
topsail, she strained away at the sheets; in which operation she was
assisted by Samoa, who snatched an instant from the helm.
The foresail and fore-topsail were now tolerably well set; and as the
craft drew seaward, the breeze freshened. And well that it did; for,
recovered from their alarm, the savages were now in hot pursuit; some
in canoes, and some swimming as before. But soon the main-topsail was
given to the breeze, which still freshening, came from over the
quarter. And with this brave show of canvas, the Parki made gallantly
for the outlet; and loud shouted Samoa as she shot by the reef, and
parted the long swells without. Against these, the savages could not
swim. And at that turn of the tide, paddling a canoe therein was almost
equally difficult. But the fugitives were not yet safe. In full chase
now came in sight the whale-boat manned by the Cholos, and four or five
Islanders. Whereat, making no doubt, that all the whites who left the
vessel that morning had been massacred through the treachery of the
half-breeds; and that the capture of the brigantine had been
premeditated; Samoa now saw no other resource than to point his craft
dead away from the land.
Now on came the devils buckling to their oars. Meantime Annatoo was
still busy aloft, loosing the smaller sails—t’gallants and royals,
which she managed partially to set.
The strong breeze from astern now filling the ill-set sails, they
bellied, and rocked in the air, like balloons, while, from the novel
strain upon it, every spar quivered and sprung. And thus, like a
frightened gull fleeing from sea-hawks, the little Parki swooped along,
and bravely breasted the brine.
His shattered arm in a hempen sling, Samoa stood at the helm, the
muskets reloaded, and planted full before him on the binnacle. For a
time, so badly did the brigantine steer, by reason of her ill- adjusted
sails, made still more unmanageable by the strength of the breeze,—that
it was doubtful, after all, notwithstanding her start, whether the
fugitives would not yet fall a prey to their hunters. The craft wildly
yawed, and the boat drew nearer and nearer. Maddened by the sight, and
perhaps thinking more of revenge for the past, than of security for the
future, Samoa, yielding the helm to Annatoo, rested his muskets on the
bulwarks, and taking long, sure aim, discharged them, one by one at the
advancing foe.
The three reports were answered by loud jeers from the savages, who
brandished their spears, and made gestures of derision; while with
might and main the Cholos tugged at their oars.
- title
- Chunk 3