“—Observe degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office, and custom in all line of order—”
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
The canoe held a direct course out to sea the remaining part of the day.
This was drawing fast to a close, when there might be perceived, straight
over the bows of the canoe, and far, far away, a small dark object
that seemed to rest lightly on the horizon, which was, at that moment,
illumined by the red rays of the large round sun that was fast sinking
behind it.
The head of the canoe was kept direct upon that speck, and the man at the
stern seemed to make no more use of his compass.
Such was the rapidity with which the canoe went, borne away, as it was,
by the breeze, as well as propelled by the paddles of twelve strong men,
that within three hours after sunset, they were close to that which, a
short time before, had appeared so small, so shadowy, and so distant.
The object proved to be a low, black, balahoo schooner, whose model, as
far as it could be observed by the starlight, was most beautiful. She was
built as sharply as a sword, with her bows terminating in the shape of a
Gar’s lance, while her stern slanted off in the most graceful proportions.
But the most remarkable part in her build, was her immense and almost
disproportioned length, which, combined with her perfectly straight
lines, low hull, and the slenderness of her make, gave her the appearance
of a large serpent.
Her rigging was of the lightest fashion as two simple shrouds, which
supported each mast, and the bowsprit and jibboom stays formed her
principal cordage.
There was not a yard, a gaff, or piece of canvass aloft, so that the
tall masts remained bare and graceful, shining under their polish. On
these accounts, they could not be perceived at any distance, and a boat,
discovering the vessel for the first time, would be at a loss to make out
what floating object it was.
Her position also, and the manner in which she seemed moored—mastless,
as it would appear—was strange and peculiar. She was not swinging to the
wind or current, but she rode under a bow and stern anchor, which kept
her head directly towards the Dragon’s Mouth, while the rippling waves,
that still curled before the gentle night breeze, broke playfully on her
side.
“What word?” sounded the hoarse and echoing voice of some one on the
deck, as the canoe approached the schooner.
“Scorpion,” the man replied in as sounding a voice, and the canoe boarded
the vessel.
The ladders were thrown out over the sides, and the man at the stern
jumped nimbly on deck.
A sentinel stationed at the gangway lowered his weapon, and the man at
the stern, for so we must still call him, passed.
The sentinel was a tall muscular man of a dark complexion; his face was
almost entirely covered with hair, on his head he wore a red cap, he had
on a red woollen shirt, his trowsers were black, and were secured round
his waste by a thick red sash, in which were stuck a brace of pistols and
a long poniard.
These and a cutlass, which he held in his hand, were his only weapons.
As soon as the man at the stern was on deck he was accosted by a tall,
thin person with flowing mustachios, and with marks of distinction from
the sentinel, both in dress and in his appearance. He was richly and
tastefully accoutred. He wore a jet black frock coat, which was richly
but simply embroidered with gold; his trowsers were of unspotted white,
and displayed neat and highly polished boots; round his waist he wore a
richly fringed crimson sash, in which pistols and a poniard were also
stuck; and a slender belt supported a handsome sword by his side. His
head was covered by a red cap, and rich gold epaulets rested on his
shoulders.
“Lorenzo,” said this individual, addressing the new comer in a low and
pleasant tone, “I am happy to see you back. Success, I hope.”
“Success,” answered Lorenzo briefly but courteously, “I have three
strangers there in the boat, of whom, pray, order your watch to take
care; the captain, I suppose is in his cabin, so I shall see him by the
dawn of day. Good night, Sebastian, good watch.”
“Farewell,” answered the party addressed, and Lorenzo, our former man at
the stern, disappeared.
This short dialogue carried on, as it was, in an under tone, scarcely
broke the extraordinary silence which reigned on board the mysterious
schooner.
After Lorenzo had disappeared, Sebastian ordered his men to take charge
of the three prisoners in the canoe, who were accordingly brought on
deck. Jack Jimmy, who after his fear had been lulled by the apparent
harmless treatment of the Indians, had fallen fast asleep, was the most
struck when awakening, with the extraordinary position in which he found
himself suddenly placed. When he got on deck, he stood as if his limbs
would not support him; he first looked aloft at the tapering masts of
the schooner, then on the deck, and when his eyes fell on the men by
whom he was surrounded, he opened his mouth for an instant in mute
amazement, and succeeded at length to give expression to his terror in
the words—“Garamighty! way me be? Wha dish ya?”
“Softly, my little man,” said the sentinel, in a voice that contrasted
strangely with the weak shriek of the terror-stricken Jack Jimmy, “we
don’t speak so loud here.”
“Massa, me hush,” was the immediate answer of Jack Jimmy, and he closed
his lips as firmly as he could, as an earnest of his determination to
keep silence; but in the dark the white of his eyes may have been seen
revolving from object to object with the rapidity of lightning.
“Follow this way,” said a man, who had received instructions from the
officer, to the prisoners; and he led them down a narrow stair-case to a
small cabin in the foremost part of the vessel. “This is where you are to
sleep to-night,” said he to them, after they had been ushered in: “do you
require anything?”
The captives answered in the negative.
“Well,” continued the man, “make yourselves comfortable for the night,
and be awake betimes to-morrow to see our captain—he gets up early.”
He then posted himself at the door of the cabin, with his cutlass in his
hand, like one who was to pass the whole night there. Not a sound more
was heard on board the schooner that night.
When morning had arrived, the prisoners were brought on deck, and
requested to be prepared to appear before the captain immediately.
The strange vessel on board of which they found themselves, could be
better examined by daylight than by the dim star-gleam of the preceding
night. The long level deck was scoured as white as snow; not a speck, not
a nail-head, not the minutest particle of anything could be discovered
upon it. The very seams were filled up in such a manner, that the
material which made them impervious to water, imparted an appearance of
general cleanliness. The halliards were all beautifully adjusted at the
foot of each mast, and made up for the moment in the shape of mats, or
other fanciful forms. The belaying pins, that were lined with brass,
were beautifully polished, while the tapering masts were as clean and
as smooth as ivory. The arrangement of the deck, also, was exceedingly
neat: nothing but a few beautiful and simple machines for hoisting were
to be seen, and in properly-disposed recesses in the bulwarks, glimpses
might be caught of the rude instruments of destruction—of pikes that
looked horrible even in their places of rest,—axes whose shining edges
made the blood run chill, and grappling-irons, whose tortuous and crooked
prongs made the nerves recoil with the thoughts of agony which they
brought up. An awning, as white as the deck which it sheltered, was
spread from the stem to the stern of the schooner.
Men dressed and armed, as the sentinel of the preceding evening, were
leaning here and there, conversing together in a low tone of voice.
Of all these things, the one which particularly attracted the attention
of the strangers was the extraordinary device that everything on board
the schooner bore; namely, a death’s head placed on the crossing of two
dead men’s bones. This was imprinted on the rigging of the schooner, on
its tackle, on the weapons which were arranged in the bulwarks, and the
men wore it in front of their blood-red caps, and on their arms. This
strange circumstance had a powerful effect on the prisoners: Jack Jimmy
opened his mouth and eyes, and seemed, on contemplating that sign, to
devote himself to death already; and the master fisherman became still
more anxious than he had been from the first. He recollected that in
the various stories with which he and his fellows in the same pursuit
had beguiled many a tedious hour, pirates were represented as always
displaying a black flag, on which the same sad mementoes of mortality, as
those which he saw everywhere on board the schooner, were imprinted.
The thought immediately broke in upon him that he might at that moment be
among those lawless men, about whose horrible cruelties he had heard so
much, and he shuddered at the reflection.
It is true he had not, up to that moment, experienced any personal
outrage or even incivility; but might he not be reserved for those
shocking tortures to which he had heard pirates were accustomed to
resort, for the purpose of forcing their victims to the confession of
what was alike improbable and impossible? His reflections now became
gloomy and distressing; and thoughts that rush upon a man only at his
last moments, or in situations of imminent danger, began now to force
themselves upon him.
This train of thoughts was broken by Lorenzo, who suddenly emerged from
the companion of the chief cabin and approached him.
Lorenzo presented quite a different appearance from what he did under his
Indian disguise of the day before.
He was cleanly washed of the red ochre with which he had painted his
skin; it now appeared fresh and clear, as it was by nature, although a
little embronzed by a tropical sun. His features, which could now be
properly read, expressed a character of manly firmness, softened by much
humanity and tenderness. He wore the same dress as the officer whom he
met on duty the previous night, with the slight exception that his red
cap was more richly decorated. This seemed to be a badge of distinction,
and it could be at once perceived from the manner in which he acted, that
Lorenzo was in high command on board the strange schooner.
“The prisoners will not be wanted for half an hour,” he said to the man
on duty; “you may retire with them.”
He then went back, and descended the stairs by which he had ascended.
These stairs led to a wide passage in the main-deck of the vessel, which
extended from the stem to the door of the main cabin: he turned to the
right, and proceeded to the part where that cabin was situated.
He passed by a number of doors and passages, but proceeded straight down
the one in which he was, until he arrived at a certain door that stood
immediately opposite to him. He then touched a large skull of bronze that
grinned hideously on it; it instantly flew open, and he stood before a
tall, and full armed sentinel, who, immovable as a statue, looked him
fiercely in the eyes.
The officer, without uttering a word, presented the index finger of his
left hand, on which there was a large ring, the sentinel quietly stepped
aside, and he passed.
He made a few steps, and from another niche in the passage another
sentinel presented himself, he showed the ring again and passed; he went
further forward, and was again met by another sentinel, he performed the
same ceremony, and he was also permitted to pass. He went on and met
several others, on whom the ring had the same effect; at last, he arrived
at a sort of antichamber, where two black boys, in gorgeous attire, were
waiting.
They immediately bent their bodies to Lorenzo as he advanced, and then
stood ready to answer him any question he should ask.
“Is your master at leisure, Bembo?” asked Lorenzo.
“He is, senor,” answered one of the boys.
“Say I am here, and desire audience.”
The boy bent his body again and retired.
He immediately returned, and informed the officer that his master desired
him to enter, and conducted him to a door.
The officer pressed a skull similar to that with which the reader has
already been made acquainted; the door flew open, and he stood in a
magnificent apartment, with a young man before him.
The apartment into which Lorenzo had entered, was vast and magnificent
in its proportions; it was formed of the whole of the after part of
the schooner, and of its entire width. It was richly though peculiarly
decorated: the sides, unlike the plain wainscoating of ships in general,
were made of the richest and most exquisitely polished mahogany, upon
which were elaborately carved landscapes, in which nature was represented
principally in her most terrible aspect,—with volcanoes belching forth
their liquid fires; cataracts eating away in their angry mood the rugged
granite, over whose uneven brows they were foamingly precipitated;
inhospitable mountains frowning on the solitary waves below, that
unheedingly lashed their base; chasms that yawned as terrific as the
cataclasm that might be supposed to have formed them, and other subjects
which blended the magnificent with the terribly sublime.
The precious metals were freely used to mark the shades and other points
in these highly wrought carvings, so that the fire which the volcanoes
sent forth was cleverly represented by gold, the water by silver, and so
forth.
Large beads of gold surrounded each tableau, and separated it from the
next. On the skirting-boards at the lower parts were carved palezotic
creatures, that held between their extended jaws large richly bound
volumes, which were secured by springs against the rolling of the vessel.
The ceiling was decorated in the same peculiar manner: the two sides
of the celestial sphere were distinctly represented, with the signs
of the zodiac and the constellations finished in a perfect style, and
scrupulously placed at the correct distances from each other.
The furniture was in exact keeping with this rich, though strange style
of decoration. Soft and velvetty carpets covered the floor, or rather
the deck; fanciful ottomans, made in the shape of gigantic sea shells,
covered with crimson velvet, and decorated with pure and solid gold,
were placed here and there. Immense globes of the earth and the heavens,
mathematical instruments of the largest size were carefully arranged,
and so effectually secured in their position, that they could not be
affected by the tossing of the schooner. But what was particularly
calculated to attract attention among these various things was a gigantic
telescope, whose principal parts stood on a magnificent frame. More
than ordinary care seemed to be devoted to this instrument, both to
its construction and to its preservation, for everything about it was
exquisitely made and polished.
The young man who stood before Lorenzo, may have been about twenty-five
years of age: he was tall and slender, but infinitely well formed; his
limbs were beautifully proportioned and straight, and his hands were
almost femininely delicate, notwithstanding the close construction of the
bones, and the hard, wiry sinews, which could be barely seen, now and
then slightly swelling the skin.
His complexion was of a very light olive, it showed a mixture of blood,
and proclaimed that the man was connected with some dark race, and in the
infinity of grades in the population of Spanish America, he may have been
said to be of that which is commonly designated Quadroon.
But the features of this femininely formed man were in deep contrast with
his make; they were handsome to the extreme; but there was something
in his large tropical eyes that seemed to possess the power of the
basilisk, and made it difficult to be supposed that any man could meet
their glance without feeling it.
This expression was increased by his lowering brows that overshadowed his
eyes, and indicated, at once, an individual of much resolution; while his
high aquiline nose, compressed lips, and set jaws, pointed clearly to a
disposition that would undertake the most arduous and hazardous things,
and execute them with firmness in spite of perils.
In brief, the most superficial observer might have read, in the face of
that young man, the existence of something within, which was endowed with
the power of controlling the most headstrong and refractory,—of quelling
the most rebellious spirits.
It required not the discoveries of science to convince men, at a glance
of his features, that there was a power in that mind which was reflected
on his face, that wherever he was he would be by the necessity of his own
mind—pre-eminent and uppermost; that men must, unknowingly to themselves,
obey him, and act as he acted.
In addition to those animal attributes, the shape of his head was
what the most fastidious could but admire; his forehead rose in the
fullness of beautiful proportions, while, at the same time, those
skilled in reading others’ sculls would have declared that, with his
high intellectual development, he did not lack those necessary moral
accompaniments which the Creator, in his wisdom, has providently bestowed
for the proper use and regulation of the former.
Withal, however, there might be discerned in the lofty bearing and
haughty mein of the young man a stern and invincible pride.
The dress of our young hero was simple; he wore trowsers of the finest
and whitest materials, and a Moorish jacket of crimson silk, with large
and ample sleeves; round his waist was folded a red silk sash, in which
a gilded poniard and pistols mounted with gold, were stuck; his head was
uncovered, and his black raven locks flowed over his shoulders in wild
and unrestrained profusion.
When Lorenzo entered the cabin the young man was standing by a table, on
which lay open a richly ornamented volume of “Bacon’s Novum Organum,”
with the books of “Aristotle’s Philosophy” by its side.
It was evident that he was making his morning meditation on those learned
tomes.
When Lorenzo entered the cabin he bowed profoundly.
“Good morning, Lorenzo,” said the young man, still maintaining his high
posture, and pointed an ottoman to the visitor.
“Well, how have you fared?” he inquired.
“Well, your excellency,” answered the officer, “I have captured a
fisherman with his two men, whom I have brought on board for your
especial examination. I made my observations during the time that my men
were resting, and have to report, that there are several deeply laden
ships in the harbour, which, from all appearances, are ready for sea, and
will sail within a few days. There seem to be prospects of a rich booty,
with very little work for our men. There are no ships of war in the
harbour. I have taken the marks and sizes of the vessels, which you will
find on this paper, so that the fisherman may be accurately questioned.
The ship, about which your excellency especially instructed me, is also
in the harbour.” Then, with a low bow, Lorenzo handed a paper to the
young man.
“You have done well, Lorenzo,” the latter said, and glanced over the
paper for a short time, and, apparently, possessing himself of the
information it contained, laid it by.
“Let your fisherman be brought, Lorenzo.”
The officer left the apartment for a time and returned, shortly
afterwards, with the fisherman.
The fisherman appeared bewildered by the grandeur of the place, and could
scarcely restrain his eyes from wandering distractedly about.
The captain, after affording him some time to regain himself, requested
him to dismiss his fears, and assured him that no harm should be done him
if he spoke the truth, and began to interrogate him.
“You know the Harbour of Port of Spain, do you not?”
“I do, senor,” replied the fisherman, “I fish in it every day.”
“Do you know the ships that are there now?”
“Senor, I do not know their names, but I know they are nearly all
English.”
“Do you know the large ship that is anchored opposite the banks of the
Caroni?”
“Senor, as I have said before, not its name; but I know that it belongs
to a rich English merchant, and is laden with sugar for Bristol.”
“Do you know when she is to sail?”
“Senor,” answered the fisherman, “not positively, but, from her
appearance, I should say she will sail in a day or two.”
The young man proceeded in this manner and examined the fisherman about
all the vessels which were reported in Lorenzo’s paper to be in the
harbour, but without, at the same time, receiving any more definite
information.
After the questioning was ended, he requested the fisherman to be
re-assured, and to fear nothing; he then pressed a spring at his feet,
and one of the black boys appeared.
“Show this man on deck,” said the captain. The fishermen was shown on
deck, where the sentinel duly received him.
“Lorenzo,” said the young man, “by the chart of this island, and, from my
own experience, I know that there are only two outlets from this gulf—the
Serpent’s and the Dragon’s Mouth. Ships but seldom go through the
Serpent’s Mouth, both, on account of its narrowness, and its distance out
of the course of those that may be bound for England. It is, therefore,
my opinion that the ships, which are now about to sail, will pass by the
Dragon’s Mouth; that passage is fifty miles to the north of this. It is
my will that five men be sent with this fisherman of yours, to watch the
sailing of the ships: go you, therefore, bear the token, and request the
officer of the watch to attend to this order. When this is done, come you
hither and let me know. It is my will to let the men have pleasure to-day
as they may have work shortly.”
Lorenzo bowed and retired: he shortly returned and informed the
captain—as the reader must have already discovered him to be—that his
order was executed. The captain asked no further questions, but, perhaps
from the habit of being always strictly and implicitly obeyed, he never
doubted but that things were done as he wished. Such, too, was the
discipline that seemed to reign on board of the schooner, that scarcely
five minutes elapsed before preparations were made, and a boat, with
the fisherman, among others, was duly dispatched to do as the captain
commanded.
When the captain was informed that his orders were executed, he pressed
again the spring and the boy appeared.
“Sound the gong,” he said: the boy bowed and retired.