_Salathiel and the Pirate Captain_
[Sidenote: Spies]
But the delusion was short-lived; my voice broke the spell, and perhaps
the consciousness of their idle alarm increased their rage. “Spies!” was
then the outcry, and this dreaded sound brought from beds and tables the
whole band. It was in vain that I attempted to speak; the mob have no
ears, whether in cities or caves, and we were dragged forward to undergo
our examination. Yet what was to be done in the midst of a host of
tongues, all questioning, accusing, and swearing together?
Some were ready to take every star of heaven to witness that we were a
pair of Paphlagonian pilots, and the identical ones hired to run two of
their ships aground, by which the best expedition of the year was undone.
Others knew us to have been in the regular pay of the procurator, and the
means of betraying their last captain to the ax. But the majority honored
us with the character of simple thieves, who had taken advantage of their
absence to plunder the baggage.
The question next arose, “How we could have got in?” and for the first
time the carousers thought of their sentinel. I told them what I had
seen. They poured into his chamber, and their suspicions were fixed in
inexorable reality: “We had murdered him.” The speediest death for us
was now the only consideration. Every man had his proposal, and never
were more curious varieties of escape from this evil world offered to two
wretches already weary of it; but the Arab’s voice carried the point.
“He disliked seeing men tossed into the fire; ropes were too useful, and
the sword was too honorable to be employed on rogues. But as by water we
came, by water we should go.” The sentence was received with a shout; and
amid laughter, furious cries, and threats of vengeance, we were dragged
to the mouth of the cave.
[Sidenote: The Arrival of the Captain]
There was a new scene. The tempest was appalling. The waves burst into
the anchorage in huge heaps, dashing sheets of foam up to its roof.
The wind volleyed in gusts, that took the strongest off their feet;
the galleys at anchor were tossed as if they were so many weeds on the
surface of the water. Lamps and torches were useless, and the only light
was from the funereal gleam of the billows, and the sheets of sulfurous
fire that fell upon the turbulence of ocean beyond. Even the hardy forms
round me were startled, and I took advantage of a furious gust that swung
us all aside, to struggle from their grasp, and seizing a pike, fight
for my life. Jubal seconded me with the boldness that no decay could
exhaust, and setting our backs to the rocks, we for a while baffled our
executioners. But this could not last against such numbers. Our pikes
were broken; we were hemmed in, and finally dragged again to the mouth
of the cavern, that with its foam and the howl of the tumbling billows
looked like the jaws of some huge monster ready for its prey.
Bruised and overpowered, I was on the point of denying my murderers their
last indulgence, and plunging headlong, when a trumpet sounded. The
pirates loosed their hold, and in a few minutes a large galley with all
her oars broken and every sail torn to fragments shot by the mouth of the
cavern. A joyous cry of, “The captain! the captain!” echoed through the
vaults. The galley, disabled by the storm, tacked several times before
she could make the entrance; but at length, by a masterly maneuver,
she was brought round, and darted right in on the top of a mountainous
billow. Before she touched the ground, the captain had leaped into the
arms of the band, who received him with shouts. His quick eye fell upon
us at once, and he demanded fiercely what we were. “Spies and thieves”
was the general reply.
“Spies!” he repeated, looking contemptuously at our
habiliments—“impossible. Thieves, very likely, and very beggarly ones.”
[Sidenote: The Captain’s Story]
I denied both imputations alike. He seemed struck by my words, and said
to the crowd: “Folly! Take them away, if it does not require too much
courage to touch them; and let them be washed and fed for the honor
of hospitality and their own faces. Here, change my clothes and order
supper.”
I attempted to explain how we came.
“Of course—of course,” said the captain, pulling off his dripping
garments and flinging his cloak to one, his cuirass to another, and his
cap to a third. “Your rags would vouch for you in any port on earth.
Or, if you carry on the trade of treachery, you are very ill paid. Why,
Memnon, look at these fellows; would you give a shekel for their souls
and bodies? Not a mite. When I look for spies, I expect to find them
among the prosperous. However, if you turn out to be spies, eat, drink,
and sleep your best to-night, for you shall be hanged to-morrow.”
He hurried onward, and we followed, still in durance. The banquet was
reinstated, and the principal personages of the band gathered round to
hear the adventures of the voyage.
“All has been ill luck,” said the captain, tossing off a bumper. “The old
procurator’s spirit was, I think, abroad either to take care of his plate
or to torment mankind, according to his custom. We were within a boat’s
length of the prize when the wind came right in our teeth. Everything
that could, ran for the harbor; some went on the rocks; some straight to
the bottom; and that we might not follow their example, I put the good
ship before the wind, and never was better pleased than to find myself at
home. Thus you see, comrades, that my history is brief; but then it has
an advantage that history sometimes denies itself—every syllable of it is
true.”
As the light of the lamps fell on him, it struck me that his face was
familiar to my recollection. He was young, but the habits of his life had
given him a premature manhood; his eye flashed and sparkled with Eastern
brilliancy, but his cheek, after the first flush of the banquet, was
pale; and the thinness of a physiognomy naturally masculine and noble,
showed that either care or hardship had lain heavily upon his days. He
had scarcely sat down to the table when, his glance turning where we
stood guarded, he ordered us to be brought before him.
[Sidenote: Salathiel and the Captain]
“I think,” said he, “you came here but a day or two ago. Did you find no
difficulty with our sentinels?”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Arab, “how could I have forgotten that? I left Titus,
or by whatever of his hundred names he chose to be called, on guard,
at his own request, the day I steered for the Nile. He was sick, or
pretended to be so; and as I gave myself but a couple of days for the
voyage, I expected to be back in time to save him from the horrors of his
own company. But the wind said otherwise—the two days were ten; and on
my return we found the wretched fellow a corpse—whether from being taken
ill and unable to help himself, or from the assistance of those worthy
persons here whom we discovered in attendance.”
“On that subject I have no doubt whatever,” interposed the Egyptian;
“those villains murdered him.”
“It is possible,” mused the captain; “but I can not foresee what they
are to get by it. A question that you at least will acknowledge to be of
considerable importance,” said he, with a careless smile at the Egyptian,
whose avarice was proverbial.
The object of satire was stung, and to get rid of the dangerous topic, he
affected wrath and said impetuously:
“Let it be so; let our blood go for nothing; let treachery thrive; let
our throats be at the mercy of every wandering ruffian; and let us have
the consolation that our labors and our sacrifices will be honored with a
sneer.”
He turned to the crowd waiting round us. “Brave comrades,” exclaimed he,
“henceforth understand that you are at every dagger’s mercy; that if you
are left behind, you may be assassinated with impunity, as, if you are
taken out upon our foolish expeditions, your lives may be flung away upon
the whims and follies of would-be heroes.”
The crowd, fickle and inflamed by wine, gave a huzza for the “sailor’s
friend.” The Egyptian encouraged, and having a load of gall upon his
memory, made the desperate venture of at once disowning the authority of
the captain, and ordering in his own name that we should be delivered
over to execution.
[Sidenote: Salathiel Shows a Letter]
The captain listened without a word, but his hand was on his simitar, and
his cheek burned, as he fixed his eyes on the livid accuser.
The crowd pressed closer upon us, and I saw the dagger pointed at my
breast, when I recollected the letter. I gave it to the captain, who read
it in silence, and then, with the utmost composure, desired it to be
handed over to the Egyptian.
“Comrades,” said he, “I have to apologize for a breach of the confidence
that should always subsist between men of honor. I have here accidentally
read a letter which the cipher shows to have been intended for our
trusty friend Memnon; but since the subject is no longer confined to
himself, he will doubtless feel no objection to indulging us all with the
correspondence.”
The band thronged round the table; expectation sat on every face,
and its various expression in the crowded circle of those strong
physiognomies—the keen, the wondering, the angry, the contemptuous, the
convinced, the triumphant—would have made an incomparable study for a
painter. The Egyptian took the letter with a trembling hand and read the
fatal words.
“The fleet will be off the northern promontory by midnight. You will
light a signal, and be ready to conduct the troops into the cavern.”
The reader let the fatal despatch fall from his hands.
An outcry of wrath rose on all sides, and the traitor was on the point of
being sacrificed when the young Idumean generously started forward.
“It is known, I believe, to every man here,” said he, “that I dislike
and distrust Memnon as much as any being on earth. I know him to be base
and cruel, and therefore hate him. I have long suspected him of being
connected with transactions that nothing but the madness of avarice could
venture upon, and nothing but death atone. But he must not perish without
a trial. Till inquiry is made, the man who strikes him must strike
through me.”
[Sidenote: The Egyptian’s Treachery]
He placed himself before the culprit, who now taking courage, long
and dexterously insisted that the letter was a forgery, invented by
“assassins and those who employed assassins.”
The tide of popular wisdom is easily turned; opinion was now raging
against me, and the Egyptian stood a fair chance of seeing his reputation
cleared in my blood.
“Come,” said the captain, rising, “as we are not likely to gain much
information from the living, let us see whether the dead can give us any:
lead on, prisoners.”
I led the way to the recess. The dead man lay untouched; but in the
interval the features had returned, as is often the case in death, to the
expression of former years. I uttered an exclamation; he was the domestic
who had betrayed me to the procurator.
“Conscience!” cried the Egyptian.
“Conscience!” echoed the crowd.
The captain turned to me. “Did either you or your companion commit
this murder? I will have no long stories. I know that this fellow was
a villain, and if he had lived until my return, he should have fed the
crows within the next twelve hours. One word—yes or no?”
I answered firmly.
“I believe you,” said the captain. He took the hand of the corpse, and
called to the Egyptian. “Take this hand, and swear that you know nothing
of the treason. But, ha! what have we here?”
As he lifted the arm, the sleeve of the tunic gave way, and a slip
of papyrus fell on the bed. He caught it up, and exclaiming, “What!
to-night? pernicious villain!” turned to the astonished band.
“Comrades, there is treachery among us. We are sold—sold by that accursed
Egyptian. Strip the slave, and fling him into the dungeon until I return;
no, he shall come with us in chains. Call up the men. Every galley must
put to sea instantly, if we would not be burned in our beds.”
[Sidenote: Preparing for the Escape]
The trumpets sounded through the cavern, and rapid preparations were
made for obeying this unexpected command. The fires blazed again; arms
and armor rang; men were mustered, and the galleys swung out from their
moorings, in the midst of tumult and volleys of execrations against the
treachery that “could not wait, at least, for daylight and fair weather.”
“And now,” said the captain, “I think that it is time for me to sup. Sit
down, and let us hear over our wine what story the prisoners have to
tell.”
I briefly stated our escape from the dungeon.
“It may be a lie; yet the thing hangs not badly together. Your wardrobe
speaks prodigiously in favor of your veracity. Ho, Ben Ali! see that the
avenue into the warehouse is stopped up. We must have no visits from the
garrison of the tower.”
He had soon a group of listeners round the table.
“As I was lying off and on, waiting to catch that galley, a correspondent
on shore let me partly into the secret of that Egyptian dog’s dealings.
Rich as the knave was—and how he came by his money, Tartarus only
knows—Roman gold had charms for him still. In fact, he had been carrying
on a very handsome trade in information during the last six months, which
may best account for the escape of two fleets from Byzantium, and not
less for the present safety of the procurator’s plate, which, however, I
hope, by the blessing of Neptune, to see before another week shining upon
this table.”
Then, turning to me, he laughingly said: “Tho I should not trust you for
pilotage, your discovery was of use. That an attack upon us was intended
I was aware; but the how and the when were the difficulty. The time of
the attack was announced in the papyrus, and but for the storm we should
probably be now doing other things than supping.”
“The sea is going down already, and the wind has changed,” said the Arab.
“We can haul off the shore without loss of time.”
“Then the sooner the better. We must seal up the Romans in their port, or
if they venture out on such a night, give them sound reason for wishing
that they had stayed at home. Their galleys, if good for nothing else,
will do to burn.”
[Sidenote: The Company of the Free-Traders]
This bold determination was received with a general cheer; the crews
drank to the glory of their expedition, and all rushed toward the
galleys, which, crowded with men, lay tossing at the edge of the arch.
I followed, and demanded what was to be our fate.
“What will you have?”
“Anything but abandonment here. Let us take the chances of your voyage,
and be set on shore at the first place you touch.”
“And sell our secret to the best bidder? No. But I have no time to
make terms with you now. One word for all; ragged as you both are,
you are strong, and your faces would do no great discredit to our
profession. You probably think this no very striking compliment,” said
he, laughing. “However, I have taken a whim to have you with us and
offer you promotion. Will you take service with the noble company of the
Free-trade?”
Jubal was rashly indignant; I checked him, and merely answered that I had
purposes of extreme exigency which prevented my accepting his offer.
“Ha, morality!” exclaimed he, “you will not be seen with rogues like us?”
He laughed aloud. “Why, man, if you will not live, eat, drink, travel,
and die with rogues, where upon earth can you expect to live or die? The
difference between us and the world is that we do the thing without the
additional vice of hypocrisy.”
The bold fellows who waited round us felt for the honor of their calling,
and but for their awe of the captain we had stood slight chance of escape.
“A pike might let a little light into their understandings,” said one.
“If they will not follow on the deck, they should swim at the stern,”
said another.
“The hermits should be sent back to their dungeon,” said a third.
The boat was now run up on the sand.
[Sidenote: The Captain’s Calling]
“Get in,” said the captain. “I have taken it into my head to convince
you by fact of the honor, dignity, and primitiveness of our profession,
which is, in the first place, the oldest, for it was the original
employment of all human hands; in the next place, the most universal,
for it is the principle of all trades, pursuits, and professions, from
the Emperor on his throne down through the doctor, the lawyer, and the
merchant, to the very sediment of society.”
A loud laugh echoed through the cavern.
While he was arranging his corselet and weapons round him, the captain
proceeded: “The Free-trade is the essence of the virtues. For example,
I meet a merchantman loaded with goods—for what is the cargo meant? To
purchase slaves; to tear fathers from their families—husbands from their
wives; to burn villages, and bribe savages to murder each other. I strip
the hold; the slave-market is at an end, and none suffer but fellows who
ought to have been hanged long ago.”
The captain’s doctrine was more popular than ever.
[Sidenote: On Board the Galleys]
“I see, comrades,” said the captain, “that tho truth is persuasive, your
huzza is not for me, but for fact. We find a young rake ranging the world
with more money than brains, sowing sedition among the fair rivals for
the honor of sharing his purse; running away with daughters; gambling
greater fools than himself out of their fortunes; in short, playing the
profligate in all shapes. He drops into our hands, and we strip him to
the last penny. What is the consequence? We make him virtuous on the
spot. The profligate becomes a model of penitence; the root of all his
ills has been unearthed; the prodigal is saving; the bacchanal temperate;
the seducer lives in the innocence of a babe; the gambler never touches
a die. We have broken the mainspring of his vices—money; disarmed the
soft deceiver of his spell—money; checked the infection of the gambler’s
example by cutting off the source of the disease—money; or if nothing can
teach him common sense, our dungeon will at least keep him out of harm’s
way. We meet a rich old rogue,” continued he, “on his voyage between the
islands. What is he going to do? To marry some young creature who has
a young lover, perhaps a dozen. The marriage would break her heart and
raise a little rebellion in the island. We capture the old Cupid, strip
him of his coin, and he is a Cupid no more; fathers and mothers abhor
him at once; the young lover has his bride and the old one his lesson;
the one gets his love and the other his experience; and both have to
thank the gallant crew of the _Scorpion_, which may Neptune long keep
above water.”
A joyous shout and the waving of caps and swords hailed the captain’s
display. “The Free-trade forever!” was cheered in all directions.
“And now, my heroes of salt water, noble brothers of the Nereids, sons of
the starlight, here I make libation to fortune.”
He poured a part of his cup into the wave, and drank to the general
health with the remainder.
“Happiness to all! Let our work to-night be what it will, I know, my
heroes, that it will be handsomely done. The enemy may call us names, but
you will answer them by proofs that, whatever we may be, we are neither
slaves nor dastards. If I catch the insolent commander of the Roman
fleet, I will teach him a lesson in morals that he never knew before. He
shall flog, fleece, and torture no more. I will turn the hard-hearted
tyrant into tenderness from top to toe. His treatment of the crew of the
_Hyæna_ was infamous; and, by Jupiter! what I owe him shall be discharged
in full. Now on board, and may Neptune take care of you!”
The trumpets flourished, the people cheered, the boats pushed off, the
galleys hoisted every sail, and in a moment we found ourselves rushing
through the water under the wildest canopy of heaven.