MORGIANNA.
It was early on the morning of June 13, 1796, just twenty years after
the Declaration of Independence, that Captain Felix Lane, of the good
ship _Ocean Star_, was on his voyage from Rio to Baltimore with a cargo
of coffee. The morning was specially bright, and the captain, as brave a
man as ever paced a quarter deck, was in the best of spirits, for he
expected soon to be home. He had no wife and children to greet him on
his return, for Lane was a bachelor. He had served on board a privateer
during the War of the Revolution and had done as much damage as any man
on salt water to English merchantmen. Like most brave men, Captain Lane
had a generous soul, a kind heart, and there was not a man aboard his
vessel who would not have died for him. He preserved perfect discipline
and respect through love rather than fear, for he was never known to be
harsh with any of his crew.
No one knew why the captain had never married. His first mate, who had
sailed under him four years, had never dared broach him on the subject
of matrimony. There was a story--a mere rumor--perhaps without the
slightest foundation, of Felix Lane, when a poor sailor boy, loving the
daughter of an English merchant at Portsmouth, England. The mate got the
story from a gossipy old English sailor, who claimed to know all about
it, but whose fondness for spinning yarns brought discredit on his
veracity. According to the old sailor's account, the fair English maid's
name was Mary. Her father was one of the wealthiest merchants in the
city; and one day when Lane was only nineteen he met Mary. Her beauty
captivated him and inspired him to a nobler life. Mary loved the young
sailor; but it was the old story of the penniless lover and cruel
parent. The sailor was forcibly expelled from the house and sailed to
America, with a heart full of revenge and ambition.
He arrived just after the battle of Lexington, and soon shipped aboard a
privateer. Again it was the old story of a rash lover laughing at death,
seeking the grim monster who seemed to avoid him. His ship was so
successful, that in a short time each of the crew was rich from prize
money. Four years and a half of war found Felix Lane commander of the
most daring privateer on the ocean. He was already wealthy and continued
by fresh prizes to add to his immense fortune. The merchant marine of
Great Britain dreaded his ship, the _Sea Rover_, more than the whole
American navy. Lane was one of the most expert seamen on the ocean, and
might have had a high office in the regular navy, had he not found this
semi-piratical business more lucrative.
One day his vessel sighted a large merchantman, off the coast of Spain,
and engaged it in a terrible conflict. The merchantman carried twice as
many people and heavier guns than the _Sea Rover_; but by the skilful
management of his ship Captain Lane continued to rake her fore and aft
until she was forced to strike her colors. When the conqueror went
aboard, he found the splintered deck a scene of horror. Cordage,
shrouds, broken spars and dead and dying men strewed the deck. Near the
gangway was a middle-aged man holding in his arms a girl mortally
wounded in the conflict. He recognized her in a moment, and the scene
which followed tried all the powers of the old yarn-spinner's
descriptive faculties. He held her in his arms and wept and prayed until
her life was extinct. It was said that she recognized him and that she
died with a sweet smile on her face, pointing upward to a place of
reunion. The father, who had survived the conflict, was released, and
Captain Felix continued his career a sadder and better man.
Whether this story was true or not, no one can at this day tell, for
Jack tars are proverbial yarn-spinners, and seek more after romance than
truth. One thing is quite certain, though, Captain Lane was still a
bachelor, and had resisted all the advances of beautiful women, until no
one doubted that he would end his days a bachelor.
On this bright June morning a sail was descried S.S.E., and there
immediately sprang up a little conversation between master and mate as
to the probable character of the ship.
"Perchance, captain, it's a British cruiser," suggested the mate.
"If it should be, we have no fears."
"No, for the _Ocean Star_ can show a pair of clean heels to anything
afloat. These British have a habit of searching all vessels they can
capture and impressing seamen."
"It's ugly business."
"It will breed another storm."
"I don't think America will long submit."
At this, the mate, whose temper was as fiery as his red hair, vowed:
"If they should board a ship of mine, I would give 'em lead and steel,
until they would not care to search or impress any one."
"They have no such right," the captain answered, and his face grew very
stern.
The vessel, whatever she was, did not cross their path, however, and in
a few hours disappeared around some jutting headlands.
They had only left Rio the day before, and had very light winds. The
land breeze lasted long enough to bring them by Santa Cruz, and their
ship drifted along all day between Raza and the main. Toward night the
sea-breeze came in fresh from the eastward, and they made four-hour
tacks, intending to keep the northern shore quite close aboard, and to
take their departure from Cape Frio. The night was very clear, and at
eight bells they tacked ship to the northward, heading about N.N.E.;
Raza lights could just be discerned, bearing about West. Captain Lane
had come on deck, as was his custom, to "stay" the brig, and, finding
everything looking right, was about to go below, when the man on the
lookout cried:
"Sail ho!"
"Where away?" demanded the Captain.
"Two points off the lee bow."
The captain walked forward to the forecastle, from where he descried
what appeared to be a large square-rigged vessel standing directly for
them, with her port-tacks aboard. This seemed strange to the captain, as
he knew of no vessel which had left Rio, except one several days
previous, and she should have been far on her voyage by this time.
The stranger approached very rapidly, carrying a press of canvas, and
"lying over" to it in fine style. In a short time the stranger was
almost within speaking distance, and Captain Lane made her out to be a
large heavily-sparred clipper brig. A collision seemed inevitable, if
she held her course. The _Ocean Star_ was a little to windward of the
stranger with the starboard tacks aboard, and Captain Lane knew it was
the stranger's duty to "bear up" and keep away. He jumped for his
speaking trumpet and hailed:
"Brig ahoy!"
No answer; and the mysterious vessel came booming right on for them with
fearful speed.
"Brig ahoy!" shouted the captain again. "Hard up your helm, or you will
be into me!"
Still no answer; and, jumping to the wheel, the captain jammed it down,
and they came up flying into the wind. Leaving the wheel to the
frightened seaman, he sprang into the port rail, to see where the
stranger would strike them. As he did so, that mysterious craft flew by,
and the whole sea seemed lighted up by a strange illumination. It was
like a terrible dream--so wild, so supernatural and unearthly. As
Captain Lane stood by the port rail, he saw right under his quarter, a
large, low, black brig, with her decks crowded with men, and guns
protruding from her ports; while on the weather rail, clinging with one
hand to the shrouds, stood a strange, demoniacal-looking figure, holding
in his outstretched hand, above the water, a burning blue light. On the
quarter-deck a little knot of men seemed standing, a short distance
apart from them was a strikingly handsome man, who, from his air of
superiority, Lane at once knew to be the commander. His perfectly poised
and graceful attitude, and thorough composure, as he removed a cigar
from his mouth and motioned an order to the helmsman, struck the
beholder as wonderful.
In an instant the whole thing flashed upon the captain--_he was a
pirate_! He had run under the stern of the brig and burned a blue light
to read the name of the vessel, and see if the bird was worth plucking.
Captain Lane's decision was instantaneous. He knew that the white
feather never helped one out with such fellows. It was all the work of
an instant. The stranger ran a couple of lengths astern the _Ocean
Star_, swung his main-yard aback and hailed; but while the bold
buccaneer was doing this, Captain Lane had performed an equally
sea-manlike manoeuvre. He caught his sails aback, and his vessel having
stern way, he shifted his helm, backed her round, and, filling away on
the other tack, stood directly for the pirate.
It was the stranger's time to hail now. The _Ocean Star_ was a sharp,
strong, fast-sailing vessel, and was under good headway and perfect
control. Captain Lane then acted hurriedly, but with precision, giving
his orders to his mate and helmsman, and, seizing the cabin lantern and
his speaking trumpet, he jumped upon the topgallant forecastle, and,
holding up his lamp, made the master mason's "_hailing sign of
distress_." He then hailed through his trumpet, in quick, determined
syllables:
"Brig ahoy! Unless you swear as a man or as a Mason that you will not
molest me, as true as there is a God, we will sink together!"
Quick as thought, the answer came back through the trumpet, clear and
distinct:
"I swear as a Mason! Hard up your helm!"
"Hard up your helm!" the captain shouted aft, and, paying off like a
bird, the _Ocean Star_ swept by the stranger's stern near enough to
almost touch her. As they went sailing past her, it became Captain
Lane's turn to bend forward with a lantern, and ascertain who his new
acquaintance was. There, painted in blood-red letters on the black
stern, was the name
MORGIANNA.
He had scarce read it, when the same clear tones, more subdued, hailed
him, as he thought, with somewhat of kindness:
"Captain, do me the favor to back your main-yard; I will come aboard of
you--_alone_!"
[Illustration: Morgianna.]
The captain gave the necessary orders, and "hove to" within three or
four cables' length of the stranger; and in a very few minutes a
four-oared boat, containing but a single figure besides the crew, was
seen approaching the _Ocean Star_.
Captain Lane had a ladder put over the gangway and threw a rope to the
boat as it came alongside; and the next moment the stranger sprang upon
the deck of the _Ocean Star_.
With an easy grace he gave to the captain the quick, intelligible sign
of the "great brotherhood" and, taking his arm familiarly, walked aft.
Captain Lane called the steward, sent for glasses and wine, and, as soon
as they were placed upon the table, closed the cabin door, and found
himself alone with his strange visitor.
The captain filled his glass and, sipping it in Spanish fashion, passed
the decanter to the stranger. He followed his example, and after the
usual interchange of courtesies addressed him:
"Captain, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Name it."
"You are probably not aware of the true motive which induced me to heave
you to?"
"I am not."
"It is this: I wish you to take a passenger to the United States--a lady
and her child. Now that I have seen you and feel acquainted with you, by
our common ties, I feel a confidence in sending them by you, which I
should never have felt, perhaps, with another. Will you take them? Any
price shall be yours."
"Yes; I will take them."
"Thank you. I have a still further favor to ask. I wish to send to the
States a sum of money to be invested in the lady's name, and for her
account. Will it be too much to ask you to attend to this? You may
charge your own commission."
"I will obey your wishes to the letter," Captain Lane answered.
The stranger grasped his hand across the table and, with some emotion,
added:
"If you will do this, and will place the lady and child where they may
find a home, with the surroundings of Christian society, you will confer
a favor upon me which money can never repay."
Captain Lane looked at the man with astonishment, and for the first time
gave him a glance that was thoroughly searching and critical.
He was apparently of about thirty-five years of age, a little above the
medium height, with a broad forehead, over which fine, brown hair
clustered in careless folds. He wore his beard and mustache long, the
former extending to a point a few inches below the throat. His eyes were
brown, large and full of expression, while in conversation, and a mild
and melancholy smile occasionally stole over his features.
His manners and conversation betokened refinement; and, take him all in
all, he was the last man one would have ever taken for a smuggler or
a pirate.
Captain Lane became very much interested in him, and gradually their
conversation took a wider range. In the midst of it and before they had
fully completed their business arrangements in relation to the
passengers, whom Captain Lane had engaged to convey to the United
States, the mate knocked at the cabin door, and informed them that a
heavy squall was rising to westward.
They hurried on deck, which no sooner had they reached, than the
stranger, looking hastily in the quarter indicated, shook Captain Lane
warmly by the hand saying:
"I must go aboard, captain; that will be a heavy squall. Keep me in
sight if you can; but, if we part company, meet me off Cape Frio--this
side of it--to-morrow; wait for me till night, if you do not see me
before. Good-by!" and springing into his boat, he pulled away for
his vessel.
Captain Lane never saw him again alive.
No sooner was he over the side, than the captain gave orders to shorten
sail. He took in royals and topgallant sails, furled the courses,
trysail and jib, and double-reefed the topsails. They braced the yards a
little to starboard, hauled the foretopmast staysail sheet well aft, and
the captain, thinking he had everything snug, stood looking over the
weather rails, watching the approaching squall. The wind had almost died
away, and the atmosphere seemed strangely oppressive. Captain Lane was
an old sea-dog and had witnessed many strange phenomena on the ocean;
but never had he seen a squall approach so singularly. It seemed to move
very slowly--a great black cloud, which looked intensely luminous
withal, and yet so dense and heavy, that an ordinary observer might have
mistaken it for one of the ordinary rain squalls encountered in the
tropics. Captain Lane consulted his barometer, and found it
falling rapidly.
"Clew the topsails up!" shouted the captain to the mate. "All hands lay
aloft and furl them!"
The order was quickly obeyed; and just as the sailors reached the deck,
the squall struck them. It did not come as it was expected; it had
worked up from the westward, but struck the _Ocean Star_ dead from the
South. In an instant they were over, nearly on their beam ends, and a
heavy sea rushed over the lee-rail, filling the deck.
"Hard up your helm!" shouted the captain, and, springing aft, he found
the helmsman jammed under the tiller, and the second mate vainly
endeavoring to heave it up. Taking hold with him, by their united
efforts they at last succeeded; and, after a moment's suspense, the
_Ocean Star_ slowly wore off before the wind and, rising out of the
water, shook herself like an affrighted spaniel and darted off with
fearful speed before the hurricane.
Leaving orders to keep her "steady before it" the captain went forward
to ascertain the extent of the damage they had sustained. It was now
intensely dark, the rain falling in torrents, and lightning bolts
striking the water all around them, accompanied by fearful and incessant
peals of thunder. A human voice could not have been heard five paces
away. The wind, which fairly roared through the shrouds, and the deluge
of water upon the deck, were enough of themselves to drown any voice. By
flashes of lightning, the captain soon ascertained that they were
comparatively unharmed, and their spars were safe. Gathering his
frightened crew and officers about him, he succeeded at length in
freeing the decks of water by knocking out the ports on either side.
They next sounded the pumps, and found three feet of water in the well.
Immediately double pumps were rigged, and the steady clinking of brakes
added to the noises and terror of the scene.
It was a fearful night, and Captain Lane prayed Heaven that he might
never see such another.
About half an hour after the squall first struck them--the captain of
the _Ocean Star_ was standing with his two officers on the quarter-deck,
"conning the vessel by the feel of the wind and rain," keeping her dead
before the gale--when there came a flash and a peal which made them
cower almost to the decks.
"My God!" was the simultaneous exclamation of all. A long chain of
lightning and a heavy ball of fire seemed to shoot from the sky,
lighting up the whole sea, revealing, and at the same time striking, in
its descent, a full-rigged brig, which, like themselves, was scudding
before the gale under bare poles, a few cables' length off their port
beam. The next instant, a fearful explosion, heard loud above the
roaring storm, shook the sea, a volume of flame and fire shot up in the
air, and when they looked again for the vessel, in the flashes of
lightning, it was nowhere to be seen.
As the morning broke, the gale abated, and settled into a light breeze
from the eastward. They made all sail, and stood to the southward with
the wind abeam, hoping to fall in with some survivors of the wreck.
Captain Lane changed his wet garments for something more comfortable,
refreshed himself with a strong cup of coffee, and, taking his glass,
sought the foretopsail yard. About seven bells, he thought he discovered
some object in the water three or four points off the lee bow. Hailing
the deck to keep off for it, he very soon made out fragments of a
vessel--spars, water casks, pieces of deck and, as they came still
nearer, a boat; but the captain, even from his lofty perch, could see no
sign of any one in it.
Descending to the deck, he ordered a boat to be cleared away, and,
running as near as he dared to the wreck, he backed his maintopsail and
took a long and earnest survey with his glass.
All hands were watching with anxious eyes the expression on the
captain's face. He handed his glass to the mate, who carefully examined
every fragment which appeared above water. The captain looked at the
mate inquiringly; but neither said a word. The mate handed back the
glass and shook his head sorrowfully.
Again the captain looked long and earnestly; the mate looked again, and
again returned the glass:
"Poor fellows--we may as well fill away, sir!" he said sadly.
There was still considerable sea on, and the mere launching of a boat
was attended with more than ordinary danger, added to which was that to
be encountered from the broken spars and fragments of wreck drifting
about. Captain Lane thought of all these dangers, and was about to give
the order to "fill away the main-yard," when something seemed to say
to him:
"_There is some one in that boat_!"
This impression was so strong that he felt as if it would be murder to
leave the spot without making a more minute search, and he ordered the
boat to be lowered at once. Jumping into the stern sheets, four good
oars well manned soon brought him within the little field of fragments,
in the centre of which the boat was floating. No wonder none of the crew
was left,--the water literally swarmed with sharks.
Standing in the bow with a boat hook, the captain warded off pieces of
wreck and gradually made his way to the strange boat.
The sight there which met his eyes Captain Lane never forgot to his
dying day. When bowed down with old age, and his feeble steps were
tottering on the verge of the grave, that scene came to him as vividly
as on that terrible day. Lying in the bottom of the boat was the burnt,
blackened and bruised form of a man, which, with some difficulty, the
captain recognized as the handsome stranger who had visited him on the
previous evening. Clinging to him, with her arms clasped tightly around
his mutilated form, a clasp which even death could not break, her fair
face pressed close to his blackened features, was the lifeless body of
the most beautiful woman Captain Lane had ever seen. The look of agony,
of commiseration, of tenderness, of pity, of horror and despair, which
was sealed upon, those lifeless features was beyond the powers of
description; but the saddest spectacle of all was a child, a little girl
about one year old, clinging frantically to the breast of her dead
mother, and gazing silently at them in frightened wonder.
For years, Captain Lane's eyes had not been dimmed with tears, but now
the fountains of grief were opened up, and his cheeks were wet. He
carefully entered the boat, felt of each cold body, laid his hand upon
each silent heart, and waited in vain for an answering signal to his
touch upon the pulse.
"It is all over," he said, and sitting down in the stern sheets of the
boat, he took the child in his arms and sent his men back for sheets and
shot and palm and needle and prayer-book. "They shall have Christian
burial," declared the kind-hearted captain.
They went away and left him alone with the dead and the baby. The infant
seemed to cling to him from that moment, and the Great Father above
alone knows how strangely and rapidly those cords of love were cemented
between the bluff, old bachelor sea-captain and the infant. That heart,
which he had thought dead to all love since the awful day on board the
English merchantman, when he saw the only being he ever loved dying, was
suddenly thrilled by the tenderest emotions. Those sweet blue eyes were
upturned to his face with a glance of imploring trust, and the
captain cried:
"Yes, blow my eyes, if I don't stand by you, little one, as long as
there is a stitch of canvas left!"
The time was very short until his men returned. Wrapping the dead in one
shroud and winding sheet, with heavy shot well secured at their feet,
the captain put the little child's lips to its mother's, giving her an
unconscious kiss, which caused the men to brush their rough sleeves
across their weather-beaten eyes. Then, reading with a broken voice, the
last service for the dead, the shroud was closed, and the opening waters
received them and bore them away to their last resting place.
Jumping into his boat, with the little stranger nestling in his arms,
Captain Lane was soon aboard the _Ocean Star_, and with a fair wind and
sunny skies was once more homeward bound. The captain seemed loath to
relinquish his little charge. There was a goat on the vessel which
furnished milk, and the cook prepared some dainty food for the
little stranger.
"What is her name, captain?" he asked, while feeding the hungry child.
She was not old enough to know her name, and there was not found about
her clothes or in the boat anything whatever by which her name could
possibly be known, so she had to be rechristened. What name should he
give her? He reflected a moment and then, remembering the name on the
stern of that black, mysterious vessel, answered:
"Morgianna!"
"Morgianna?" said the cook.
"Yes, Morgianna Lane! she is my adopted daughter."
The cook smiled at the thought of bluff old Captain Lane the bachelor
having an adopted daughter.
After the perils and excitements of such a night, it was not strange
that Captain Lane slept long and soundly. He had good officers, and when
he retired he gave them orders not to disturb him, unless absolutely
necessary, until he should awake.
They obeyed the injunction to the letter, and on the following morning
he was awakened by hearing one of the crew ask in an undertone of
the steward.
"How is little Morgianna this morning?"
"Little Morgianna," he said to himself; and then it all came back, and
with it a strangely tender dream which had all night long haunted his
slumbers. The captain rose hurriedly, dressed himself and inquired for
the child, who had been resigned to the care of the cook. She was
brought to him, a bright, cheerful little thing, just beginning to lisp
unintelligible words. For a few days she missed her mother and wore a
look of expectation on her infantile face, occasionally crying out; but
anon this passed away, and she became cheerful and happy. The captain
spent as much of his time with her as he could spare from his duties,
and as he held the little creature on his knee, heard her gentle voice
in baby accents, and felt her warm baby fingers on his cheek, a new
emotion took possession of his heart. He loved little Morgianna dearly
as a father might.
Before that voyage was over, Captain Lane resolved to abandon the sea
and retire to his fine estate at Mariana, a village on the seashore not
a score of miles from Baltimore. He kept his intentions a secret until
the vessel was in port; then the merchants with whom he had been engaged
in business for years, were astounded to learn that Captain Lane had
made his last voyage. A nurse was engaged for little Morgianna and the
great mansion house on the hill within a fourth of a mile of Mariana was
fitted up for habitation. Servants were sent to the place, and the
villagers were lost in wonder.
The gossips had food for conjecture for weeks, and many were the strange
stories afloat. Some of the old dames thought the captain was going to
be married after all. Then the young widows and ancient maidens who had
heard much about Captain Lane, sighed and looked disconsolate. Every
kind of a story but the truth was afloat.
When on one bright autumnal day, a carriage from Baltimore was seen to
dash into the village and roll up the great drive, between the rows of
poplars, it was whispered he had come. One who watched averred that only
the captain and a child not over a year and a half old alighted from the
coach. (The nurse came in another vehicle.) The child started another
rumor. She was a mysterious, unknown factor, and the gossips bandied the
captain's name about in a reckless manner. Good old dames shook their
heads knowingly and declared they had suspected the captain had a wife
all the time in some far-off city.
"You kin never depend on these sea-captains!" Mrs. Hammond declared.
But despite all their conjectures, the captain lived in the old stone
mansion house with his servants and Morgianna. A few weeks after his
arrival, she was christened at the village church as Morgianna Lane, her
parents not known.
Would wonders never cease? Bit by bit, the sensational story of
Morgianna got out into the village, and she became the object of the
greatest interest. Captain Lane adopted her, and when she became old
enough to accompany him, he seldom went away without her. Morgianna
loved the good old man, who, with all his rough seaman-like ways, was
father and mother both to her.
Never had daughter a kinder or more indulgent father.
As years went on, Morgianna grew in beauty, intelligence, grace and
goodness. Captain Lane was proud of her, and she was never so happy as
when sitting on his knee listening to his yarns of the sea. Her own sad,
dark story had never been told to her,--that was left for the future.