Of course I did not give utterance to these sentiments before any of the
_Pandora's_ crew. That would have led me into worse trouble than ever.
Even Brace could not have protected me had I given expression to the
disgust with which my new associates had inspired me, and I acted only
with the ordinary instinct of prudence when I held my tongue and
pretended not to notice those matters that were queer. Withal, I could
not altogether dissemble. My face might have told tales upon me; for
more than once I was taken to task by my ruffian companions, who jeered
me for my scruples, calling me "green-horn", "land-lubber", "son of a
gun", "son of a sea-cook," and other like contemptuous appellations, of
which, among sailors, there is an extensive vocabulary. Had they known
the full measure of contempt in which I had held them, they would scarce
have been satisfied by giving me nicknames only. I should have had
blows along with them; but I took care to hide the dark thoughts that
were passing in my bosom.
I was determined, however, to have an explanation with Brace and ask his
advice. I knew that I could trust him, but it was a delicate point; and
I resolved to approach him with caution. He might be angry with me; for
he, too, was engaged in the same nefarious companionship. He might be
sensitive and reproach me for a meddler.
And yet I fancied he would not. One or two expressions I had heard him
drop casually, had led me to the belief that Brace was tired of the life
he was leading--that he, too, was discontented with such a lot; and that
some harsh fate had conducted him into it. I hoped that it was so; for
I had grown greatly interested in this fine man. I had daily evidence
that he was far different from his associates,--not hardened and wicked
as they. Though under the influence of association men gradually assume
the tone of the majority, yet Brace had a will and a way of his own,--
there was a sort of moral idiosyncracy about him that rendered him
unlike the rest, and which he appeared to preserve, notwithstanding the
constant contamination to which he was exposed by his companionship with
such fellows. Observing this, I resolved to make known to him the cause
of my wretchedness, and to obtain his advice as to how I should act.
An opportunity soon offered--a chance of conversing with him unheard by
the rest of the crew.
There is a pleasant place out upon the bowsprit, particularly when the
foretop-mast stay-sail is hauled down, and lying along the spar. There
two or three persons may sit or recline upon the canvas, and talk over
their secrets without much risk of being overheard. The wind is seldom
dead ahead, but the contrary; and the voices are borne forward or far
over the sea, instead of being carried back to the ears of the crew. A
meditative sailor sometimes seeks this little solitude, and upon
emigrant ships, some of the more daring of the deck-passengers often
climb up there--for it requires a little boldness to go so high aloft
over the water--and pour into one another's ears the intended programme
of their trans-oceanic life.
Brace had a liking for this place; and often about twilight he used to
steal up alone, and sit by himself, either to smoke his pipe or give way
to meditation.
I wished to be his companion, but at first I did not venture to disturb
him, lest he might deem it an intrusion. I took courage after a time,
and joined him upon his perch. I saw that he was not dissatisfied--on
the contrary, he seemed pleased with my companionship.
One evening I followed him up as usual, resolved to reveal to him the
thoughts that were troubling me.
"Ben!" I said, in the familiar style in which all sailors address each
other. "Ben!"
"Well, my lad; what be it?"
He saw I had something to communicate, and remained attentively
listening.
"What is this ship?" I asked after a pause.
"She a'n't a ship at all, my boy--she be a barque."
"But what is she?"
"Why, a'n't I told you she be a barque."
"But what sort, I want to know?"
"Why, in course, a regular rigged barque--ye see if she were a ship the
mizen-mast yonder 'ud be carryin' squares'ls aloft, which she don't do
as ye see--therefore she's a barque and not a ship."
"But, Ben, I know all that, for you have already explained to me the
difference between a ship and a barque. What I wish to ascertain is
what kind of a vessel she is?"
"Oh! what kind; that's what you're after. Well, then, I should say a
faster sailer never set figure-head to the sea; she's got just one
fault, she be a little too crank for my liking, and pitches too much in
a swell. If she's not kept in plenty o' ballast, I won't wonder to see
them masts walk overboard one of these days."
"You won't be offended at me, Ben; all this you've told me before--it is
not what I wish to know."
"An what the old scratch do you want to know? Be hanged, my lad, if you
don't puzzle me."
"Answer me, Ben; tell me the truth. Is she a merchant vessel."
"Oho! that's what you're driving at! Well, that depends upon what you
may call a merchant vessel. There be many sorts o' goods that comes
under the name o' merchandise. Some ships carry one sort, and some
another."
"What sort does the _Pandora_ carry?" asked I, interrupting him.
As I put the question, I laid my hand gently upon the arm of the sailor,
and looked earnestly in his face as I awaited his reply.
He hesitated for a moment, until he saw that he could not well evade
giving me an answer, and then answered with the simple word--"Niggers."
"It 'ud be no use playin' hide and seek about it, lad. You must 'a
found it out in time--the _Pandora's_ no merchantman--she be a trader--a
regular slaver."
"Oh, Ben," I said, appealingly, "is it not a terrible life to lead?"
"Well, it's not the life for you, my boy, and I'm sorry you've got into
such hands. I saw you when you first comed aboard, and would have put a
word in your ears, if I had got a chance; but the old shark nailed you
afore I could get speaking to you. He wanted a boy and was determined
to have you. When you comed the second time, I was below in my bunk,
and in course you were brought off with us. No, little Will, it's not
the life for you, lad."
"And for you, Ben?"
"Avast there, my youngster! Well, I won't be angry with you, it's but
nat'ral you should think so. Maybe I'm not so bad as you think me."
"I don't think you bad, Ben; quite the contrary. It is for that reason
I spoke as I did. I think you very different from the others. I--"
"Maybe you're right, boy; maybe not. I warn't always bad. I was once
like yourself and didn't care for such as these; but there are tyrants
in the world as makes men bad, and they've made me."
Here the sailor paused and uttered a sigh, while an expression of
extreme bitterness passed over his face; some harsh recollection was
stirring within him.
"How, Ben?" I ventured to ask. "I cannot believe it. They may have
made you unhappy, but not wicked. I know you are not."
"You are kind, little Will, to say this to me.--You are very kind, my
boy; you make me feel as I once did feel, and I'll tell you all.
Listen! and I'll tell you all about it."
There was a tear in the sailor's eye, the first he had shed for many a
long year. Upon his weather-bronzed face I observed a mingled
expression of tenderness and sadness.