"He appears to have been the chief object at which their malice was
directed," observed the captain. "At this time it was thought necessary
to throw off the mask. The old ministers were restored to their
forfeited privileges and possessions; and your father's implacable foe,
Philadelphia, was placed at the head of the government. An imposing
force of soldiery was kept continually under arms, to prevent any rising
of the populace; and seizures of concealed arms were made in every
direction. The people, deprived of their leaders and of their weapons,
felt themselves powerless. They saw too late the trap into which they
had fallen. They beheld the despotism that was approaching them, and
were unable to make the slightest effort to defend themselves from its
approaches. Domiciliary visits were now made, upon the most frivolous
pretexts, to the houses of the principal citizens; and papers and
arms were seized, and their owners, if they gave the slightest cause
of offence, were hurried to prison. Any one known or suspected of
entertaining hostile intentions was seized and incarcerated, and fined
in heavy penalties, or sent out of the country. The citizens were
confounded, and appeared utterly unable to make the slightest
resistance."
"Oh, I wish I had been there!" exclaimed Oriel, eagerly, "I would have
infused such a spirit into their natures as should have made them ready
to rush upon their oppressors with a certainty of success; and that
conviction should have insured their triumph. I would have made their
hearts astir with the love of freedom, till all obstacles in their way
should have been as straws in the path of the tempest. I would have made
them fight like lions--I would have made them conquer like men. But what
became of my father? you have not told me that. Tell me what became of
him?"
"While they were placing the citizens in a degree of subjection fit
for their purpose," replied Captain Barter, "with a monstrous deal of
unnecessary parade, they were making preparations for the trial of the
leaders of the people. The long-expected day came, and its proceedings
were watched with eager interest by the citizens, although they dared
not show the anxiety they felt. Master Porphyry, with his companions,
were arraigned as rebels and traitors, accused of murder and treason,
and reviled by the hired advocates of the crown in terms which only the
more exposed the badness of the cause they defended. Philadelphia was
president of the Chamber of Peers, by whom they were tried; and he took
every occasion to abuse, brow-beat, and threaten your father in language
the most intemperate that can be imagined; but your father replied in a
manner that would have conciliated a savage. His language was mild, his
bearing noble; and when he was called upon to make his defence, he made
one of the most eloquent speeches that had ever been heard within those
walls. He merely related what he had done, and what were his reasons for
so doing; exposed the errors of the government, and the mischiefs to
which they had led; recounted the share he had had in the revolution,
which had reduced the power of the crown and of the aristocracy to
reasonable limits, and the motives which induced him to use all his
influence in the contest: and his defence so utterly annihilated the
charges brought against him, that he must have been acquitted had he
been treated with any thing like justice; but his judges were his
accusers, and they sealed his doom before they entered upon his trial.
The prisoners were all found guilty. Some were sent into exile, some
imprisoned for life, some were heavily fined--and Master Porphyry was
condemned to be beheaded, and to have all his property confiscated to
the crown."
"The murderous and insatiate tyrants!" exclaimed the young merchant.
"When Philadelphia delivered the sentence," continued the captain, "he
appeared to take a malignant joy in having such an opportunity for
reviling your father--there was no name of opprobrium he did use: but
your honoured parent replied to him only with a look of wonder and pity;
and with a bow to his relentless judges, left the court in company with
his guards."
"Noble old man!" cried Oriel, earnestly.
"As soon as the people learned the result of the trial, they were in the
deepest affliction," added Captain Barter, "that the kind and excellent
philanthropist--the true and disinterested patriot, the glory of their
city, and the pride of the world--should perish on a scaffold, was more
than they could endure. But they had no leaders, and no weapons; and,
although they would have risen in a mass in his rescue, under the
circumstances of the case they saw that any attempt of the kind was
utterly hopeless. All eyes were then turned toward you. Your character
had already acquired their admiration; your relationship to Master
Porphyry excited their devotion; and, knowing that you had departed on
a voyage, the most powerful friends of your father met secretly for the
purpose of devising some plan by which they could make you acquainted
with your father's danger, and with their desire to assist in his
rescue. With this idea in view, all your father's vessels that could be
sent to sea, besides a vast number of ships belonging to other merchants
who had volunteered to give their assistance, sailed in quest of you.
From knowing something of the plan of voyage designed by your father I
imagined that about this time you would be crossing the Atlantic; so
here I have been sailing about for the last two days, and there are
nearly a hundred sail of merchant vessels in the same pursuit."
"A sail on the larboard bow!" shouted a man.
"That is one of them, I have no doubt, sir," observed Captain Barter.
"A sail on the starboard quarter!" shouted another.
"There is another, sir!" added the captain.
"A sail to leeward!" cried a third.
"We shall have them all about you soon, sir," said Captain Barter.
"There's a sail in every point o' the compass," cried Climberkin, as he
swept the horizon with his glass.
"I told you so, sir," continued the captain.
Climberkin was right. Wherever the eye could gaze the spars of a vessel
were seen rising from the wave; and, apparently, as soon as each ship
discovered the Albatross, she made all sail towards her. It was a
beautiful sight to see them approaching, most of them with every stitch
of canvass set--some bearing right down upon the Albatross, and others
making tacks; while the distant cheers of their crews, answered by the
crews of the Whittington and the Albatross, increased the stirring
character of the scene. As soon as they were near enough a boat was seen
putting off from each vessel; and, a few minutes after, the captains of
the different ships came on board the Albatross, and sat with Oriel
Porphyry in his cabin for several hours, in deep and earnest conference.
These had scarcely departed when others arrived. New vessels kept
continually approaching. As fast as one party left the ship others made
their appearance, and at last the Albatross was surrounded by an immense
fleet. All their commanders having at last communicated with Oriel
Porphyry, they crowded sail for Columbia.
"Captain," exclaimed the young merchant, after the last of his visitors
had departed, "are you sure of the crew?"
"To a man, sir," replied old Hearty. "There's such a stir in the ship as
never was afore. They are all impatient to be led against your enemies.
I never saw such enthusiusiasm in all my life."
"Keep them in that humour, captain," said Oriel Porphyry. "Let every man
have a good supply of ball cartridges, a musket, a pair of pistols, and
a cutlass."
"Yes, sir."
"And let a party be formed who can use the hatchet and crow-bar with
good effect."
"Yes, sir."
"And get the carpenter to make carriages for the larger guns, so that
they can be dragged by ropes upon the land; and let them be manned by
picked men."
"Yes, sir: and if we don't rescue your honourable father out o' the
clutches o' them ere lubbers, I'm spiflicated if we don't diskiver the
reason why."
"How far are we from port?" asked Oriel.
"About two days sail, sir," replied the captain.
"We shall be too late if the greatest despatch is not used," observed
the young merchant, earnestly. "I rely upon your using every effort that
your skill can suggest."
"I'll do every thing, sir, as a mortal cretur can do!" exclaimed the old
man. "I arn't the fellow to stand shilly-shally at such a time as this.
I'll look to every thing myself, and see about it immediately."
The captain had scarcely left the cabin, and Oriel had thrown himself
back in his seat, in deep and earnest meditation, when he was disturbed
by a knock at the door.
"Come in," he cried.
"May I enter, Oriel?" said Eureka, as she gently opened the door.
"Of course, dearest!" replied Oriel Porphyry, as he hastened towards
her, and led her into the cabin, with her hands clasped in his.
"You are kinder to me than I deserve, Oriel," murmured his fair
companion, with a look of gratitude from her lustrous eyes that he
found perfectly irresistible.
"Not at all, my Eureka!" said her lover, affectionately; "am I not
indebted to you for life and liberty, and all that render them valuable?
Do I not know how much you have dared and endured for my sake? And
do you think it possible, that with a knowledge of these things, I
can regard you with any other feeling than that of the most devoted
affection? No, Eureka, I must love you while I have life. But how
cleverly you continued the disguise. When I first saw you, I recognised
in the handsome page a resemblance to features it was impossible for me
not to notice; but your scheme was so admirably managed that I never
entertained the slightest suspicion of your true character."
"Nor up to the present moment has any one in the ship," replied Eureka.
"They only know me as Zabra, except that worthy creature, Tourniquet,
who discovered my secret when I was wounded, and I immediately made him
aware of my history and object in joining you, at which he was so much
delighted as to proffer his assistance in carrying on the deception; and
I should have been discovered but for him on more than one occasion."
"That accounts for his confusion at the tiger-hunt," observed Oriel;
"and for what I considered the mystery in your behaviour. But there is
nothing strange or unaccountable in it now. I only wonder at you. I am
amazed when I think of your risking so much for one who is so little
worthy of such extraordinary devotion."
"You will not love me the less for it, will you?" inquired Eureka,
gazing in his face with a look of thrilling tenderness.
"Love you less, Eureka!" exclaimed the young merchant; "that would be
ungrateful! While I have an appreciation of truth and excellence and
fidelity, and that wonderful intellectual power you have so often
exhibited, the admiration with which I regard you must approach
idolatry. You are a creature to be proud of."
"And yet I am afraid I shall lose you," said his companion, anxiously;
"I have just heard upon what errand you are hastening. It is full of
danger. It is beset by perils. But the cause is a proud one, and I do
not attempt to dissuade you from proceeding with it. Go on your career
of glory. Give your impetuous soul free scope for the developement of
its energies. Think not of me, except the thought can nerve your arm and
strengthen your resolution. Be as daring as your fearless nature prompts
you to be. With such an end in view as that you have before you, I can
allow myself no other sense, or impression, or emotion than that which
may accompany my earnest hopes for your success. I have come to a
resolution to forget my own selfish feelings. It is time I should. Your
advancement, your greatness, your fame, are the objects to which any
thoughts must now always incline. If you live to triumph over your
enemies, and to attain that eminence whereon you are so desirous of
being placed, and to which you will do so much honour, none will rejoice
more sincerely than she who has shown herself so anxious to insure your
happiness--if you die----"
"Eureka, my adored!" rapturously exclaimed Oriel, pressing her to his
breast, as he noticed that she was unable to proceed, "there is no fear
of such a result. Believe me you alarm yourself unnecessarily. I shall
succeed, I am assured of it: I shall succeed to have the proud enjoyment
of glorifying you with my pre-eminence. I feel convinced that if we can
only arrive in time, I shall rescue my father. Nothing shall stop me--I
will not be defeated: and if we should be too late for this great
object, which I see no reason to apprehend, I will not rest satisfied
till I have punished his murderers. I have no dread of death; but if I
should die, I shall die a death worthy of the lover of Eureka. I shall
die in endeavouring to rescue my country from its oppressors.--I shall
die in avenging the murder of one of the noblest and best of men."
"One word more, Oriel--one word more," said Eureka. "I have only to ask
you, as a testimony of your love for me, that, if in the coming conflict
you should meet my father, you will not kill him."
"He deserves little mercy at my hands," replied the young merchant. "But
your desire is natural, and I will comply with it. He must answer for
his crimes to the country they have disgraced. And now let us go on
deck, a little fresh air would do neither of us any harm; and when you
behold the noble fleet that has joined me in my enterprise, I hope that
all your apprehensions will vanish."
Among the crew of the Albatross the intelligence of the events which had
occurred in Columbia created an extraordinary sensation; and as soon
as it was known that Oriel Porphyry designed attempting his father's
rescue, every man in the ship volunteered to assist in the enterprise.
Never was such a general indignation produced as that which burst from
them when they learned the fate to which the government had doomed
Master Porphyry. A land fight was something new to them, but they did
not prepare themselves for it with less alacrity, nor were their tongues
less active than their limbs. Various opinions prevailed as to the
best method of bringing about a revolution; and as to the best form
of government which should replace the old one, there were as many
different notions as tongues to utter them. A group had gathered
together in the forecastle, where they had been engaged for some
time over an extra allowance of grog, discussing different political
subjects, when Boggle, who, notwithstanding his promotion, was amazingly
fond of associating with his old messmates, joined the disputants.
"I'll tell you what it is, my mates," said he, "government's tryin to
come their handy-dandy sugar-candy over us, and we arn't a goin to stand
nuffin o' the sort. Are we to be slaves?"
"Never," shouted a dozen voices simultaneously.
"Nebber," echoed Roly Poly, with equal energy, as he was gulping down
the contents of a huge black-jack of hot grog.
"Now I likes to have particular notions o' things in general as every
man as is a man, and thinks like a man, should," continued Boggle. "And
I must say as how it's my notion that there's never no occasion for no
government whatsomdever."
"Of course," remarked the boatswain, who would have thought it high
treason to have disagreed with his officer.
"Ob coorse," repeated Roly Poly, still pulling away at the black-jack.
"We don't want no rulers--there arn't no 'cessity for 'em;" said the
second lieutenant. "But if we must have kings--let every man be his own
king."
"Let every man be his own king," was echoed from one to another
throughout the circle.
"Let ebery man be his own king," repeated the fat cook.
"The whole circumbendibus comes to this," continued Boggle. "If so be as
how we're obligated to pay for what we don't want, it's hoptional on our
parts not to want what we're obligated to pay for."
"Certainly, sir," said the boatswain.
"Sartinly, sar," echoed Roly Poly, endeavouring to hold his head up, and
look as if he understood what was going forward.
"There's nuffin but oppression goin on fore and aft," said the orator.
"They grinds the faces o' the poor, and makes their bread o' the flour;
and therefore we must stand up for the liberty o' the subject."
"We must stand up for the liberty o' the subject, there's not a doubt
on't," remarked the boatswain, evidently without knowing what the
liberty of the subject expressed.
"De libty ob de subjack?" exclaimed the fat cook, vainly endeavouring
to steady his position. "I like de libty ob de black-jack best;" and
so saying, he waddled off after a very circuitous fashion, with the
black-jack under his arm.
CHAP. XII.
THE CONCLUSION.
The morning dawned slow and sullenly over the great metropolis of
Columbia; and its immense field of buildings seemed as gloomy as the
skies above them. All the shops were closed, as if in a time of general
mourning; and the citizens hurried along the streets with melancholy and
unsocial looks. Occasionally, two or three would stop at a corner of a
street and exchange a few eloquent words and gesticulations; but the
approach of some of the numerous bands of soldiers that continually
perambulated the streets separated them, and they continued on their
way. Everywhere the houses looked cheerless, as if they had been
deserted. The shutters were closed, the windows darkened, and not a sign
of life appeared about them. Such of the inhabitants as had ventured
out, appeared to be proceeding in one direction, communicating with one
another when they could do so without being observed by the troops. All
wore the same aspect--that of deep dejection; but, occasionally, a
close observer might have noticed a more fierce expression in their
countenances, as a muttered execration escaped from their lips.
They passed regiments of horse and foot at every commanding situation.
The whole city seemed to be filled with them; and their picquets
stationed at regular intervals, patroling every thoroughfare, prevented
any attempt at revolt on the part of the citizens. Still they proceeded
forward till they entered a spacious quadrangle, the whole space of
which, including all the avenues that approached it, was filled with
soldiers and citizens. Along the wall of a high gloomy building,
evidently from its construction a prison, there had been erected a
platform, covered with black cloth. Upon it appeared a block, and at a
short distance from it a coffin, both covered with black cloth. Around
the platform were a troop of horse; and others were posted along the
sides of the quadrangle, the inner space of which was filled with a
regiment of foot supported by several pieces of artillery.
At one corner of the principal entrance to the quadrangle was an ancient
stone structure, very strongly built, from the windows of which there
was a good view of the proceedings before the prison; at the opposite
corner was a similar edifice, and in their windows and on their roofs
crowds of anxious citizens had congregated. If any had come with an
intention of attempting a rescue, the disposition of the military was
sufficient to make them despair; and all they did was to throng as near
as possible to the place of execution, where they stood regarding the
scaffold and its defenders with scowling looks, and hearts eager for
vengeance.
The utmost decorum prevailed among the multitude. There was no talking
or laughing; and when Master Porphyry made his appearance upon the
scaffold every head was uncovered, and blessings loud and deep were
breathed from all. The philanthropist advanced to the block with a firm
step, and eyes as mild and kind as they had ever beamed. His look was
cheerful, and his bearing noble and manly. He wore the robe of honour,
which distinguished him as the chief magistrate of the city, as
if desirous of dying in possession of the dignity to which he had
been raised by the respect of his fellow-citizens. After bowing in
acknowledgment of the recognitions of the people, he looked unmoved upon
the coffin and the block; and with the executioner on one side, masked,
having a glittering axe in his hand, and with a priest on the other, who
kept addressing him with pious exhortations, to which he paid respectful
attention, he advanced to that part of the platform which overlooked the
surrounding multitude. Some murmurs and execrations had burst from the
spectators at sight of the executioner; but when it was noticed that
Master Porphyry was about to address them, the vast assembly were
instantly hushed to the most perfect silence.
"My countrymen!" exclaimed the philanthropist, in a clear unbroken
voice, "I do not in any way regret the fate that has been prepared for
me, except so far as it prevents me continuing those offices of social
kindness which made the happiness of my existence. To be without the
means of doing good is scarcely less desirable than to be in the
commission of evil; and it was a wise and charitable thing of my
persecutors, after having confiscated all my property, to take away a
life no longer of value to the community."--A low murmur escaped from
the crowd. "I may safely say, and I proudly say, I have lived for you;
and it is an equal gratification for me to be allowed to assert, that
I die for you."--Ten thousand blessings followed the delivery of this
sentence.
"My death, therefore, is not to be considered pitiable, if regarded in
that light. I am pleased that I have been thought worthy of this honour.
I am delighted that my oppressors have given me an opportunity of
leaving life with so much satisfaction to myself. Let me beg of you,
therefore, to refrain from any exhibition of regret for the manner of
my death--it is a very humane one; and my persecutors have shown me
a kindness in allowing me to be so disposed of.--I see nothing in it
terrible. I see nothing in it painful. I see nothing in it of shame or
dishonour. 'T is a blow, and it is over.--Had my oppressors wished, I
might have died suffering the most excruciating tortures. Had I lived,
probably I might have been the victim of some loathsome disease; or have
been deprived of my faculties--have become idiotic, or insane, or blind;
and at the last extremity have been deserted by friends, or left without
the means of serving those who most required assistance. How much better
is it for me to close my existence in this way, without pain, in the
full enjoyment of my reason, and surrounded by friends; and although
I am rendered incapable of continuing of use to you, the remembrance
of the pleasures I have enjoyed from a life of active benevolence is
sufficiently agreeable to overpower the regret I feel in having been
left to so unprofitable an end."--Again murmurs of applause broke from
all parts of the crowd.
"There is however a regret, which is powerful, and which I require all
my philosophy to endure.--I regret that I leave my country in a worse
condition than I found her.--I regret that the freedom for which I
strived so earnestly is passing away from her people.--I regret to see
a state of bondage in preparation for the free hearts around me, which
is likely to deprive them of all their noblest privileges. I was born
a free citizen, and a free citizen I will die. The galling chains of
abject servitude which are being forged for you shall never disgrace
my nature. Remember, oh, my countrymen, that freedom is your natural
inheritance; and although it would be madness to attempt its
repossession without sufficient means, never give up the desire of
liberty--wait the fitting time; and while you endure, forget not that
the graves of your fathers are disgraced, and the spirits of your
children are being dishonoured."--The citizens testified, by loud shouts
and eager exclamations, their assent to the sentiments expressed by the
philanthropist; and many were the fierce looks directed towards the
soldiery.