used the plank as a diving-board , running along it, and with a crashing
spring upon the end dived head foremost into the sea, his sword straight
before him. He came up almost as soon as his head was under water, and
with blade extended like a swordfish, he glided rapidly through the
water with a strong one-arm stroke.
The Negro, well used to water, was yet a slow, clumsy swimmer, so
that Syn was able to gain upon him rapidly, and it was but halfway
between the two vessels when the Negro felt the prick of Syn’s blade
upon his shoulder, challenging him to turn and fight. In desperation he
turned, trod water, and slashed with his heavy weapon, hoping to beat
the long blade from Syn’s
grasp. Then followed the strangest duel that could be fought. Borne on
the gentle swell, one higher now, one lower, up and down in turn, they
thrust and splashed—the Negro desperately slashing, sinking,
spluttering, but always rising to a fresh attack; Syn, calm, but quickly
pricking when the Negro came too near.
Suddenly Syn was aware that a pirate from the Sulphur Pit was jumping
from the bulwarks to the rescue of his captain. With a long knife in his
teeth, he swam rapidly towards them. Syn knew that the two would be too
much for him, and that he must kill the Negro first. Aware of help at
hand, Black Satan turned, swimming in a half -circle, to put his
adversary between them. It was then that a cry of horror was raised from
pirates on both ships, for a great fin of a man-eating shark, attracted
by the unusual feast of corpses already awaiting him between the
vessels, came skimming towards the two combatants. Syn, knowing that
the other pirate was striking out rapidly behind him, seized the crest
of the swell and with a tremendous effort drove his sword out and head
down-wave, straight at the Negro below him. There was a spurt of blood
discolouring the water, and then the swell rose again, with the Negro
this time on its crest, but pierced through the heart by Syn’s long
blade. Syn wrenched to free it, in order to turn and do fresh battle
with the other pirate. But as the body of the Negro sand, the blade was
wedged, and just as Syn was about to leave in order not to be dragged
down, the legitimate pirate of the seas swept towards and at him, in a
streak of white foam. He saw the black back turn as the crea ture dived,
and the flesh of the white belly beneath him. The great jaws opened and
snapped. He felt a mighty pull upon his sword, and then he was free,
with the weapon still in his hand, while a track
- 76 -
of reddened water shot away some thirty yards to end in a churning
maelstrom as the shark sand with his prize.
One of his enemies disposed of, Syn now turned to face the other, the
pirate with the knife between his teeth. He vowed that he would at least
get him before it was his turn to fall v ictim to the shark. He rose on
the swell and looked around. There seemed to be no other fin in sight.
The huge wolf of the sea that had so obligingly freed his sword for him
was no doubt a lone-hunting shark. But the human shark with the knife
between his teeth was near at hand, swimming at him and unafraid of
sharks. Syn trod water and awaited him.
“Come on,” he cried. “This is a new sport: spitting pirates and
feeding sharks by hand and skewer.”
His new opponent came nearer with a grin. He then trod water like
Syn, and taking his long knife from his teeth said pleasantly, “Good
morning.”
Syn laughed aloud. The situation was incongruous, and the remark so
out of place despite the lovely day about them. He liked the rascal’s
sense of humour.
“Aye, it’s a grand morning for a fight,” he laughed, wondering
whether the fellow would dive beneath him and stab up, or risk all with
a fling.
But the pirate seemed in no hurry to do anything but smile, till Syn
demanded:
“Are we waiting for the shark to return with an appetite, or are we
fighting?”
“I have a score to settle with you,” replied the pirate.
“For killing that damned nigger?” asked Syn. “How could you as a
white man have brought yourself so low as to serve under such a man?”
“Black Satan had his qualities, as you might say,” returned the
pirate. “Useful enough at terrifying peaceful folk and getting at their
treasure. But he wouldn’t have lasted very long. I had already planned a
mutiny against him, and ‘tis like as not, that had you not killed him
for me, I should have done so myself. But now as to our score. It’s a
long cry from here to Romney Marsh, and I owes you a little matter of
three spade guineas, two crowns and a silver fourpenny. And for that sum
of money, which helped me on my way to Portsmouth safe from the ruddy
Customs, I promised that if you gave up the pulpit, Doctor Syn, went -avoyaging, and fell into my hands, you should not walk the plank but the
poop-deck, with a sword at your side and a sashful of pistols. And here
it seems we be, just as we thought might happen.”
“By gad it’s Mipps!” cried Syn. “The little smuggler on Lympne Hill.”
“Quite right, sir, and very pleased to meet a Syn o’ Lydd this nice
bright morning in mid-ocean. Give us your hand, sir, and how d’ye do,
and let’s get back to the ship and have a brandy before the old shark
comes back and interferes.”
It was then that the pirates saw a strange sight, for the swimmers,
changing their weapons to their left hands, shook hands together so
violently with their right that the water splashed and splashed again.
Then side by side they swam towards the pirate ship. Mipps bawling out
to his men to stand by the rope ladder for “two ruddy Admirals comin’
aboard.”
They climbed the ladder none too son, for the shark was back again in
the fairway between two vessels, tearing at one of the corpses that had
walked the plank. But Mipps cared nothing for sharks. He was bent on
getting a favourite reception for his one time patron with the pirate
crew. He climbed up first, whispering to Syn to follow, and to take his
lead in all he said.
- 77 -
“Black Satan’s dead, my lads,” he cried out, as soon as he had
helped Syn to the deck. “And it is my gallant friend here who has saved
us from what would have been a bloody mutiny. We all agreed as how the
nigger had been over -a-reachin’ of himself of late; and why should men
of brains serve under what was only brawn and muscle? Now, I can vouch
right here and now for this man. You’ve seen him fight? You’ve seen him
give Black Satan to that ruddy shark. And did it very neat, you’ll
allow. His name is Syn, and Syn’s as good a name as Satan. Now, I
propose we celebrates our victory over the ship yonder in the usual way.
Double rum for all hands. Then we’ll divide the plunder into portions as
agreed and split Black Satan’s share. But let me tell you this. We ain’t
got a more valuable bit of plunder off that there ship than this ‘ere
man. Used to be a parson till he couldn’t stomach it no more, and so
come out here to find me and the way to go a -pirating. I owes him my
life for saving me from the Customs officers who was about to hang me,
till he steps in and knocks ‘em all to hell, parson though he was. I now
advises you one and all to shake hands on his friendship, for if you
don’t, God help you. He’s willing to join us, and when you know him
better you’ll say we’re lucky to get him. So serve the grog, then for