Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.
Barney Blake, the Boy Privateer;
OR,
THE CRUISE of the QUEER FISH.
BY HERRICK JOHNSTONE.
CHAPTER I. THE SHIP AND HER CREW.
It was upon a bright morning of the month of May, 1813, as I, a sailorjust paid off from my last ship, was wandering along the wharves ofBoston, that I was hailed by an old messmate, named Tony Trybrace.
"Ship ahoy!" cried Tony.
"The Barney Blake," I responded. "Out of employment, with compass gone,and nothing to steer by."
"What!" cried Tony, giving me his flipper. "Do you want a ship? Astrange wish to go unsatisfied in these times."
"Yes," I hesitatingly rejoined, "but, you see, I've never been in thenavy—always sailed in a merchantman—and—"
"Nonsense!" cried Tony. "That kind of blarney won't do for these times.I shipped the other day on as cracky a craft as ever kicked the spraybehind her. Come and join us."
"What! on a man-o'-war?"
"Better than that. On a bold privateer! Look out there to windward,"said Tony, directing my attention with his pointing hand, "and tell mewhat you think of her. That's her, the brigantine, with her r'yals halffurled."
The vessel indicated to me by my friend did not go back on his off-handdescription of her.
"She's a splendid ship!" I exclaimed. "What name does she go by?"
"The Queer Fish," was the reply. "She has sixguns—eighteen-pounders—three on each side—with the prettiestthirty-pound brass swivel at her starn, this side of Davy Jones. Shestarts to-morrow for a year's cruise. Will you go?"
"Yes."
"Spoken like a Yankee tar. Come."
A boat of the privateer was in waiting, and in a few moments we were init.
Scarcely had we pulled half way before a funny looking old fellow,squint-eyed, red-whiskered, and enormously wide-mouthed, whom theycalled Old Nick—a Norwegian by birth, was detected by the second mateattempting to take a pull at a green bottle, which he slyly whisked fromthe inside breast pocket of his pea-jacket. He was rowing at the time,and it required much sleight of hand to disengage one of his hands forthe purpose in view. Nevertheless, he succeeded, took a long pull at thebottle, thinking no one saw him, corked it up again, and was about toreturn it to his pocket, when, at a wink from the second mate, TonyTrybrace, accidentally on purpose, skipped the plunge of his oar andbrought it up against the old fellow with such a jostle that overboardflew the bottle, where it bobbed about.
Every one who saw the trick burst into fits of laughter. For a momentOld Nick seemed undetermined what course to pursue. Then naturevindicated her sway. He dropped his oar, rose in his seat, and plungedoverboard after the green bottle and its precious contents!
He made straight for the bottle, recovered it, took a long pull at itwhile he trod water, returned it to his bosom, and made a back track tothe yawl.
"You'll git up early in de morgen to rob ein Deitcher of his schnapps,"he growled, as he clambered over the gunwale.
So, with many a laugh and jeer at the old fellow's expense, we pulledthe balance of the way without further incident, and were soon upon thedeck of the Queer Fish Privateer.
I was pleased with her more than ever upon a closer acquaintance.Everything was trim and tidy. Her decks were