fisherman hastens his bark towards the beach, there is to be seen,
descending from the dark clouds with the rapidity of lightning, the form
of Andrew M'Clise, the heavy bell to which he is attached by the neck,
bearing him down to his doom.
And when all is smooth and calm, when at the ebbing tide, the wave but
gently kisses the rock, then by the light of the silver moon, the
occupants of the vessels which sail from the Firth of Tay, have often
beheld the form of the beautiful Katerina, waving her white scarf as a
signal that they should approach, and take her off from the rock on
which she is seated. At times, she offers a letter for her father,
Vandermaclin; and she mourns and weeps as the wary mariners, with their
eyes fixed on her, and with folded arms, pursue their course in silence
and in dread.
Moonshine
Those who have visited our West India possessions, must have often been
amused with the humour and cunning which occasionally appear in a negro
more endowed than the generality of his race, particularly when the
master also happens to be a humourist. The swarthy servitor seems to
reflect his patron's absurdities; and having thoroughly studied his
character, ascertains how far he can venture to take liberties without
fear of punishment.
One of these strange specimens I once met with in a negro called
Moonshine, belonging to a person equally strange in his own way, who
had, for many years, held the situation of harbour-master at Port Royal,
but had then retired on a pension, and occupied a small house at Ryde,
in the Isle of Wight. His name was Cockle, but he had long been
addressed as Captain Cockle; and this brevet rank he retained until the
day of his death. In person he was very large and fat--not unlike a
cockle in shape: so round were his proportions, and so unwieldy, that it
appeared much easier to roll him along from one place to another, than
that he should walk. Indeed, locomotion was not to his taste: he seldom
went much farther than round the small patch of garden which was in
front of his house, and in which he had some pinks and carnations and
chrysanthemums, of which he was not a little proud. His head was quite
bald, smooth, and shining white; his face partook of a more roseate
tint, increasing in depth till it settled into an intense red at the tip
of his nose. Cockle had formerly been a master of a merchant vessel, and
from his residence in a warm climate had contracted a habit of potation,
which became confirmed during the long period of his holding his
situation at Port Royal. He had purchased Moonshine for three hundred
dollars, when he was about seven years old, and, upon his return to
England, had taken him with him.
Moonshine was very much attached to his master, very much attached to
having his own way, and was, farther, very much attached to his master's
grog bottle.
The first attachment was a virtue; the second human nature; and the
third, in the opinion of old Cockle, a crime of serious magnitude. I
very often called upon Captain Cockle, for he had a quaint humour about
him which amused; and, as he seldom went out, he was always glad to see
any of his friends. Another reason was, that I seldom went to the house
without finding some entertainment in the continual sparring between the
master and the man. I was at that time employed in the Preventive
Service, and my station was about four miles from the residence of
Cockle. One morning, I stalked in and found him, as usual, in his little
parlour on the ground floor.
"Well, Cockle, my boy, how are you?"
"Why, to tell you the truth, Bob, I'm all wrong. I'm on the stool of
repentance; to wit, on this easy chair, doing penance, as you perceive,
in a pair of duck trousers. Last night I was half seas over, and
tolerably happy; this morning, I am high and dry, and intolerably
miserable. Carried more sail than ballast last night, and lost my head;
this morning I've found it again, with a pig of ballast in it I believe.
All owing to my good nature."
"How is that, Cockle?"
"Why, that Jack Piper was here last night; and rather than he should
drink all the grog and not find his way home, I drank some myself--he'd
been in a bad way if I had not, poor fellow!--and now, you see, I'm
suffering all from good nature. Easiness of disposition has been my
ruin, and has rounded me into this ball, by wearing away all my sharp
edges, Bob."
"It certainly was very considerate and very kind of you, Cockle,
especially when we know how much you must have acted at variance with
your inclinations."
"Yes, Bob, yes; I am the milk punch of human kindness; I often cry--when
the chimney smokes; and sometimes when I laugh too much. You see, I not
only give my money, as others will do, but, as last night, I even give
my head to assist a fellow-creature. I could, however, dispense with it
for an hour or two this morning."
"Nay, don't say that; for although you might dispense with the upper
part, you could not well get on without your mouth, Cockle."
"Very true, Bob; a chap without a mouth would be like a ship without a
companion hatch;--talking about that, the combings of my mouth are
rather dry--what do you say, Bob, shall we call Moonshine?"
"Why it's rather broad daylight for Moonshine."
"He's but an eclipse--a total eclipse, I may say. The fact is, my head
is so heavy, that it rolls about on my shoulders; and I must have a
stiffener down my throat to prop it up. So, Moonshine, shine out, you
black-faced rascal!"
The negro was outside, cleaning his knives:--he answered, but continued
at his work.
"How me shine, Massa Cockle, when you neber gib me _shiner_?"
"No: but I'll give you a _shinner_ on your lower limb, that shall make
you feel planet-struck, if you don't show your ugly face," replied
Cockle.
"Massa Cockle, you full of dictionary dis marning."
"Come here, sir!"
"Why you so parsonal dis marning, sar," replied Moonshine, rubbing away
at the knife-board--"my face no shine more dan your white skull widout
hair."
"I pulled one out, you scoundrel, every time you stole my grog, and now
they are all gone--Hairs! what should I do with heirs when I've nothing
to leave," continued Cockle, addressing me--"hairs are like rats, that
quit a ship as soon as she gets old. Now, Bob, I wonder how long that
rascal will make us wait. I brought him home and gave him his
freedom--but give an inch and he takes an ell. Moonshine, I begin to
feel angry--the tip of my nose is red already."
"Come directly, Massa Cockle."
Moonshine gave two more rubs on the board, and then made his appearance.
"You call me, sar?"
"What's the use of calling you, you black rascal!"
"Now, sar, dat not fair--you say to me, Moonshine, always do one ting
first--so I 'bey order and finish knives--dat ting done, I come and 'bey
nest order."
"Well, bring some cold water and some tumblers."
Moonshine soon appeared with the articles, and then walked out of the
room, grinning at me.
"Moonshine, where are you going, you thief?--when did you ever see me
drink cold water, or offer it to my friends?"
"Nebber see you drink it but once, and den you tipsy, and tink it gin;
but you very often gib notin but water to your friends, Massa Cockle."
"When, you scoundrel?"
"Why, very often you say dat water quite strong enough for me."
"That's because I love you, Moonshine. Grog is a sad enemy to us."
"Massa Cockle real fine Christian--he lub him enemy," interrupted
Moonshine, looking at me.
"At all events, I'm not ashamed to look mine enemy in the face--so hand
us out the bottle."
Moonshine put the bottle on the table.
"Now, Bob," said Cockle, "what d'ye say to a _seven bell-er_? Why,
hallo! what's become of all the grog?"
"All drank last night, Massa Cockle," replied Moonshine.
"Now, you ebony thief, I'll swear that there was half a bottle left when
I took my last glass; for I held the bottle up to the candle to
ascertain the ullage."
"When you go up tairs, Massa Cockle, so help me Gad! not one drop left
in de bottle."
"Will you take your oath, Moonshine, that you did not drink any last
night?"
"No, Massa Cockle, because I gentleman, and nebber tell lie--me drink,
because you gib it to me."
"Then I must have been drunk indeed. Now, tell me, how did I give it to
you?--tell me every word which passed."
"Yes, Massa Cockle, me make you recollect all about it. When Massa Piper
go away, you look at bottel and den you say, 'Fore I go up to bed, I
take one more glass for _coming up_'--den I say, ''Pose you do, you
nebber be able to _go up_.' Den you say, 'Moonshine, you good fellow
(you always call me good fellow when you want me), you must help me.'
You drink your grog--you fall back in de chair, and you shut first one
eye and den you shut de oder. I see more grog on de table: so I take up
de bottel and I say, 'Massa Cockle, you go up stairs?' and you say,
'Yes, yes--directly.' Den I hold de bottel up and say to you, 'Massa,
shall I help you?' and you say 'Yes, you must _help_ me.' So den I take
one glass of grog, 'cause you tell me to help you."
"I didn't tell you to help yourself though, you scoundrel!"
"Yes, Massa, when you tell me to help you with de bottel, I 'bey order,
and help myself. Den, sar, I waits little more, and I say, 'Massa, now
you go up'tairs,' and you start up and you wake, and you say, 'Yes,
yes;' and den I hold up and show you bottel again, and I say, 'Shall I
_help_ you, massa?' and den you say 'Yes.' So I 'bey order again, and
take one more glass. Den you open mouth and you snore--so I look again
and I see one little glass more in bottel, and I call you, 'Massa
Cockle, Massa Cockle,' and you say, 'high--high!'--and den you head fall
on you chest, and you go sleep again--so den I call again and I say,
'Massa Cockle, here one lilly more drop, shall I drink it?' and you nod
you head on you bosom, and say noting--so I not quite sure, and I say
again, 'Massa Cockle, shall I finish this lilly drop?' and you nod you
head once more. Den I say, 'all right,' and I say, 'you very good helt,
Massa Cockle;' and I finish de bottel. Now, Massa, you ab de whole tory,
and it all really for true."
I perceived that Cockle was quite as much amused at this account of
Moonshine's as I was myself, but he put on a bluff look.
"So, sir, it appears that you took advantage of my helpless situation,
to help yourself."
"Massa Cockle, just now you tell Massa Farran dat you drink so much, all
for good nature to Massa Piper--I do same all for good nature."
"Well, Mr Moonshine, I must have some grog," replied Cockle, "and as you
helped yourself last night, now you must help me;--get it how you can, I
give you just ten minutes----"
"'Pose you gib me ten shillings, sar," interrupted Moonshine, "dat
better."
"Cash is all gone. I havn't a skillick till quarter-day, not a shot in
the locker till Wednesday. Either get me some more grog, or you'll get
more kicks than halfpence."
"You no ab money--you no ab tick--how I get grog, Massa Cockle? Missy
O'Bottom, she tell me, last _quarter_-day, no pay _whole_ bill, she not
_half_ like it; she say you great deceiver, and no trust more."
"Confound the old hag! Would you believe it, Bob, that Mrs Rowbottom has
wanted to grapple with me these last two years--wants to make me
landlord of the Goose and Pepper-box, taking her as a fixture with the
premises. I suspect I should be the goose, and she the pepper-box;--but
we never could shape that course. In the first place, there's too much
of her; and, in the next, there's too much of me. I explained this to
the old lady as well as I could; and she swelled up as big as a balloon,
saying, that, when people were really _attached_, they never _attached_
any weight to such trifling obstacles."
"But you must have been sweet upon her, Cockle?"
"Nothing more than a little sugar to take the nauseous taste of my long
bill out of her mouth. As for the love part of the story, that was all
her own. I never contradict a lady, because it's not polite; but since I
explained, the old woman has huffed, and wo'n't trust me with half a
quartern--will she, Moonshine?"
"No, sar: when I try talk her over, and make promise, she say dat _all
moonshine_. But, sar, I try 'gain--I tink I know how." And Moonshine
disappeared, leaving us in the dark as to what his plans might be.
"I wonder you never did marry, Cockle," I observed.
"You would not wonder if you knew all. I must say, that once, and once
only, I was very near it. And to whom do you think it was--a woman of
colour."
"A black woman?"
"No: not half black, only a quarter--what they call a quadroon in the
West Indies. But, thank Heaven! she refused me."
"Refused you! hang it, Cockle, I never thought that you had been refused
by a woman of colour."
"I was, though. You shall hear how it happened. She had been the
quadroon wife (you know what that means) of a planter of the name of
Guiness; he died, and not only bequeathed her her liberty, but also four
good houses in Port Royal, and two dozen slaves. He had been dead about
two years, and she was about thirty, when I first knew her. She was very
rich, for she had a good income and spent nothing, except in jewels and
dress to deck out her own person, which certainly was very handsome,
even at that time, for she never had had any family. Well, if I was not
quite in love with her, I was with her houses and her money; and I used
to sit in her verandah and talk sentimental. One day I made my proposal.
'Massa Cockle,' said she, 'dere two ting I not like; one is, I not like
your name. 'Pose I 'cept you offer, you must change you name.'
"'Suppose you accept my offer, Mistris Guiness, you'll change your
name. I don't know how I am to change mine,' I replied.
"'I make 'quiry, Massa Cockle, and I find that by act and parliament you
get anoder name.'
"'An act of parliament!' I cried.
"'Yes, sar; and I pay five hundred gold Joe 'fore I hear people call me
Missy Cockle--dat _shell_ fish,' said she, and she turned up her nose.
"'Humph!' said I, 'and pray what is the next thing which you wish?'
"'De oder ting, sar, is, you no ab _coat am arms_, no ab seal to your
watch, with bird and beast pon 'em; now 'pose you promise me dat you
take oder name, and buy um coat am arms; den, sar, I take de matter into
'sideration.'
"'Save yourself the trouble, ma'am,' said I, jumping up; 'my answer is
short--I'll see you and your whole generation hanged first!'"
"Well, that was a very odd sort of a wind-up to a proposal; but here
comes Moonshine."
The black entered the room, and put a full bottle down on the table.
"Dare it is, sar," said he, grinning.
"Well done, Moonshine, now I forgive you; but how did you manage it?"
"Me tell you all de tory, sar--first I see Missy O'Bottom, and I say,
'How you do, how you find yourself dis marning? Massa come, I tink,
by-an-bye, but he almost fraid,' I said. She say, 'What he fraid for?'
'He tink you angry--not like see him--no lub him any more: he very
sorry, very sick at 'art--he very much in lub wid you.'"
"The devil you did!" roared Cockle; "now I shall be bothered again with
that old woman; I wish she was moored as a buoy to the Royal George."
"Massa no hear all yet. I say, 'Miss O'Bottom, 'pose you no tell?' 'I
tell.'--'Massa call for clean shirt dis morning, and I say, it no clean
shirt day, sar;' he say, 'Bring me clean shirt;' and den he put him on
clean shirt and he put him on clean duck trousers, he make me brush him
best blue coat. I say, 'What all dis for, massa?' He put him hand up to
him head, and he fetch him breath and say--'I fraid Missy O'Bottom, no
hear me now--I no ab courage;' and den he sit all dress ready, and no
go. Den he say, 'Moonshine, gib me one glass grog, den I ab courage.' I
go fetch bottel, and all grog gone--not one lilly drop left; den massa
fall down plump in him big chair, and say, 'I nebber can go.' 'But,' say
Missy O'Bottom, 'why he no send for some?' ''Cause,' I say, 'quarter-day
not come--money all gone.'--Den say she, 'If you poor massa so _very_
bad, den I trust you one bottel--you gib my compliments and say, I very
appy to see him, and stay at home.'--Den I say, 'Missy O'Bottom pose
massa not come soon as he take one two glass grog cut my head off.' Dat
all, sar."
"That's all, is it? A pretty scrape you have got me into, you scoundrel!
What's to be done now?"
"Why, let's have a glass of grog first, Cockle," replied I, "we've been
waiting a long while for it, and we'll then talk the matter over."
"Bob, you're sensible, and the old woman was no fool in sending the
liquor--it requires _Dutch_ courage to attack such a Dutch-built old
schuyt; let's get the cobwebs out of our throats, and then we must see
how we can get out of this scrape. I expect that I shall pay 'dearly for
my whistle' this time I wet mine. Now, what's to be done, Bob?"
"I think that you had better leave it to Moonshine," said I.'
"So I will--Now, sir, as you've got me into this scrape, you must get me
out of it.--D'ye hear?"
"Yes, Massa Cockle, I tink--but no ab courage."
"I understand you, you sooty fellow--here, drink this, and see if it
will brighten up your wits. He's a regular turnpike, that fellow,
everything must pay toll."
"Massa Cockle, I tell Missy O'Bottom dat you come soon as you ab two
glass grog; 'pose you only drink one."
"That wo'n't do, Moonshine, for I'm just mixing my second; you must find
out something better."
"One glass grog, massa, gib no more dan one tought--dat you ab--"
"Well, then, here's another.--Now recollect, before you drink it, you
are to get me out of this scrape; if not, you get into a scrape, for
I'll beat you as--as white as snow."
"'Pose you no _wash_ nigger white, you no _mangle_ him white, Massa
Cockle," added Moonshine.
"The fellow's _ironing_ me, Bob, ar'n't he?" said Cockle, laughing.
"Now, before you drink, recollect the conditions."
"Drink first, sar, make sure of dat," replied Moonshine, swallowing off
the brandy; "tink about it afterwards.--Eh! I ab it," cried Moonshine,
who disappeared, and Cockle and I continued in conversation over our
grog, which to sailors is acceptable in any one hour in the twenty-four.
About ten minutes afterwards Cockle perceived Moonshine in the little
front garden. "There's that fellow, Bob; what is he about?"
"Only picking a nosegay, I believe," replied I, looking out of the
window.
"The rascal, he must be picking all my chrysanthemums. Stop him, Bob."
But Moonshine vaulted over the low pales, and there was no stopping him.
It was nearly an hour before he returned; and when he came in, we found
that he was dressed out in his best, looking quite a dandy, and with
some of his master's finest flowers, in a large nosegay, sticking in his
waistcoat.
"All right, sar, all right; dat last glass grog gib me fine idee; you
nebber ab more trouble bout Missy O'Bottom."
"Well, let's hear," said Cockle.
"I dress mysel bery 'pruce, as you see, massa. I take nosegay----"
"Yes, I see that, and be hanged to you."
"Nebber mind, Massa Cockle. I say to Missy O'Bottom, 'Massa no able
come, he very sorry, so he send me;' 'Well,' she say, 'what you ab to
say, sit down, Moonshine, you very nice man.' Den I say, 'Massa Cockle
lub you very much, he tink all day how he make you appy; den he say,
Missy O'Bottom very fine 'oman, make very fine wife.' Den Missy O'Bottom
say, 'Top a moment,' and she bring a bottel from cupboard, and me drink
something did make 'tomach feel really warm; and den she say,
'Moonshine, what you massa say?' den I say, massa say, 'You fine 'oman,
make good wife;' but he shake um head, and say, 'I very old man, no good
for noting; I tink all day how I make her appy, and I find
out--Moonshine, you young man, you 'andsome feller, you good servant, I
not like you go away, but I tink you make Missy O'Bottom very fine
'usband; so I not care for myself, you go to Missy O'Bottom, and tell I
send you, dat I part wid you, and give you to her for 'usband.'"
Cockle and I burst out laughing, "Well, and what did Mrs Rowbottom say
to that?"
"She jump up, and try to catch me hair, but I bob my head, and she miss;
den she say, 'You filthy black rascal, you tell you massa, 'pose he ever
come here, I break his white bald pate; and 'pose you ever come here, I
smash you woolly black skull.'--Dat all, Massa Cockle; you see all right
now, and I quite dry wid talking."
"All right! do you call it. I never meant to quarrel with the old woman;
what d'ye think, Bob--is it all right?"
"Why, you must either have quarrelled with her, or married her, that's
clear."
"Well, then, I'm clear of her, and so it's all right. It a'n't every man
who can get out of matrimony by sacrificing a nosegay and two glasses of
grog."
"Tree glasses, Massa Cockle," said Moonshine.
"Well, three glasses; here it is, you dog, and it's dog cheap, too.
Thank God, next Wednesday's quarter-day. Bob, you must dine with
me--cut the service for to-day."
"With all my heart," replied I, "and I'll salve my conscience by walking
the beach all night; but, Cockle, look here, there is but a drop in the
bottle, and you have no more. I am like you, with a clean swept hold.
You acknowledge the difficulty?"
"It stares me in the face, Bob; what must be done?"
"I'll tell you--in the first place, what have you for dinner?"
"Moonshine, what have we got for dinner?"
"Dinner, sar?--me not yet tink about dinner. What you like to ab, sar?"
"What have we got in the house, Moonshine?"
"Let me see, sar; first place, we ab very fine piece picklum pork; den
we hab picklum pork; and den--let me tink--den we ab, we hab picklum
pork, sar."
"The long and the short of it is, Bob, that we have nothing but a piece
of pickled pork; can you dine off that?"
"Can a duck swim, Cockle?"
"Please, sar, we ab plenty pea for _dog baddy_," said Moonshine.
"Well, then, Cockle, as all that is required is to put the pot on the
fire, you can probably spare Moonshine, after he has done that, and we
will look to the cookery; start him off with a note to Mr Johns, and he
can bring back a couple of bottles from my quarters."
"Really dat very fine tought, Massa Farren; I put in pork, and den I go
and come back in one hour."
"That you never will, Mr Moonshine; what's o'clock now? mercy on us, how
time flies in your company, Cockle, it is nearly four o'clock, it will
be dark at six."
"Nebber mind, sar, me always ab _moonshine_ whereber I go," said the
black, showing his teeth.
"It will take two hours to boil the pork, Bob; that fellow has been so
busy this morning that he has quite forgot the dinner."
"All you business, Massa Cockle."
"Very true; but now start as soon as you can, and come back as soon as
you can; here's the note."
Moonshine took the note, looked at the direction, as if he could read
it, and in a few minutes he was seen to depart.
"And now, Cockle," said I, "as Moonshine will be gone some time, suppose
you spin us a yarn to pass away the time."
"I'll tell you what, Bob, I am not quite so good at that as I used to
be. I've an idea that when my pate became bald, my memory oozed away by
insensible perspiration."
"Never mind, you must have something left, you can't be quite empty."
"No, but my tumbler is; so I'll just fill that up, and then I'll tell
you how it was that I came to go to sea."
"The very thing that I should like to hear, above all others."