Pirates! by Tom McCarthy

Author:Tom McCarthy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyons Press
Published: 2014-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

A Lady among the Pirates

Fanny Loviot

Towards four o’clock in the afternoon, on the 4th of October, 1854, I went on board the brig Caldera, which, under a Chilian flag, was about to set sail that evening for California. Such was the honesty and frankness of the captain’s face that I was immediately prepossessed in his favour. Mr. Rooney was a man of about thirty-five years of age, neither short nor tall, and, to all appearance, a thorough sailor. His countenance betokened an energetic character, and I would have staked my existence upon his courage and good-nature. My first care was to visit my cabin, and arrange my luggage. Soon after this, we weighed anchor, and put out to sea. Once on the way, I was seized with a listless melancholy, for which I found it impossible to account. This melancholy, which might have been a presentiment, seemed all the stranger considering that I was returning to America, to my sister, and my friends. Resolved, somehow or another, to shake it off, I left my cabin and made the tour of the ship. It was a handsome three-masted brig of eight hundred tons burthen, well rigged, and gracefully built. I visited the saloon, the cabins, the captain’s parlour, and another which belonged to the supercargo of a commercial house at San Francisco, the heads of which had a valuable cargo on board. The saloon was lighted from above, and elegantly fitted up with panellings of white and gold. So clean and orderly was every corner of the vessel that it seemed as if nothing adverse could take place to interrupt our course; and I almost fancied that we might all be allowed to sleep away the three long months which must elapse before our arrival in California.

Of one of my fellow-travellers I shall often have occasion to speak. He was a Chinese of about fifty years of age, and an inhabitant of Canton. He had a commercial house at San Francisco, and was carrying with him a large stock of opium, sugar, and coffee. His name was Than-Sing. His features were of the type common to his nation, and deeply scarred by the small-pox. Though plain, however, he was not unprepossessing; for good-nature was expressed in every line of his countenance, and his smile was kindness itself.

We sat down four to dinner, and found that no two of us belonged to the same nation. The captain was English, the supercargo American, Than-Sing Chinese, and I French. I am thus particular in defining our several nationalities, in order to prove how much our difficulties must have been increased, in any case of peril, by the differences of language. Than-Sing spoke English as I did, that is to say, indifferently; but not one of the party spoke French. It will hereafter be seen how Than-Sing, who alone spoke Chinese, had it in his power to save and serve us all. Our crew consisted of seventeen men of various nations.

Awakened next morning by the hurrying to and fro of the sailors, I became uneasy, dressed in haste, and went on deck.

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