“The good old plan,
That they should get, who have the power,
And they should keep, who can.”
_Wordsworth._
The apartment, in which our adventurer now found himself, afforded no
bad illustration of the character of its occupant. In its form, and
proportions it was a cabin of the usual size and arrangements; but, in
its furniture and equipments, it exhibited a singular admixture of
luxury and martial preparation. The lamp, which swung from the upper
deck, was of solid silver; and, though adapted to its present situation
by mechanical ingenuity, there was that, in its shape and ornaments,
which betrayed it had once been used before some shrine of a far more
sacred character. Massive candlesticks of the same precious metal, and
which partook of the same ecclesiastical formation, were on a venerable
table, whose mahogany was glittering with the polish of half a century,
and whose gilded claws, and carved supporters, bespoke an original
destination very different from the ordinary service of a ship. A
couch, covered with cut velvet, stood along the transom; while a divan,
of blue silk, lay against the bulkhead opposite, manifesting, by its
fashion, its materials, and its piles of pillows, that even Asia had
been made to contribute to the ease of its luxurious owner. In addition
to these prominent articles, there were cut glass, mirrors, plate, and
even hangings; each of which, by something peculiar in its fashion or
materials, bespoke an origin different from that of its neighbour. In
short, splendour and elegance seemed to have been much more consulted
than propriety, or conformity in taste, in the selection of most of
those articles, which had been, oddly enough, made to contribute to the
caprice or to the comfort of their singular possessor.
In the midst of this medley of wealth and luxury, appeared the frowning
appendages of war. The cabin included four of those dark cannon whose
weight and number had been first to catch the attention of Wilder.
Notwithstanding they were placed in such close proximity to the
articles of ease just enumerated, it only needed a seaman’s eye to
perceive that they stood ready for instant service, and that five
minutes of preparation would strip the place of all its tinsel, and
leave it a warm and well protected battery. Pistols, sabres,
half-pikes, boarding-axes and all the minor implements of marine
warfare, were arranged about the cabin in such a manner as to aid in
giving it an appearance of wild embellishment, while, at the same time,
each was convenient to the hand.
Around the mast was placed a stand of muskets, and strong wooden bars,
that were evidently made to fit in brackets on either side of the door,
sufficiently showed that the bulkhead might easily be converted into a
barrier. The entire arrangement proclaimed that the cabin was
considered the citadel of the ship. In support of this latter opinion,
appeared a hatch, which evidently communicated with the apartments of
the inferior officers, and which also opened a direct passage into the
magazine. These dispositions, a little different from what he had been
accustomed to see, instantly struck the eye of Wilder, though leisure
was not then given to reflect on their uses and objects.
There was a latent expression of satisfaction, something modified,
perhaps, by irony, on the countenance of the stranger in green, (for he
was still clad as when first introduced to the reader,) as he arose, on
the entrance of his visiter. The two stood several moments without
speaking, when the pretended barrister saw fit to break the awkward
silence.
“To what happy circumstance is this ship indebted for the honour of
such a visit?” he demanded.
“I believe I may answer, To the invitation of her Captain,” Wilder
answered, with a steadiness and calmness equal to that displayed by the
other.
“Did he show you his commission, in assuming that office? They say, at
sea, I believe, that no cruiser should be found without a commission.”
“And what say they at the universities on this material point?”
“I see I may as well lay aside my gown, and own the marling-spike!”
returned the other, smiling, “There is something about the
trade—_profession_, though, I believe, is your favourite word—there is
something about the profession, which betrays us to each other. Yes, Mr
Wilder,” he added with dignity motioning to his guest to imitate his
example, and take a seat, “I am, like yourself, a seaman bred and happy
am I to add, the Commander of this gallant vessel.”
“Then, must you admit that I have not intruded without a sufficient
warrant.”
“I confess the same. My ship has filled your eye agreeably; nor shall I
be slow to acknowledge, that I have seen enough about your air, and
person, to make me wish to be an older acquaintance. You want service?”
“One should be ashamed of idleness in these stirring times.”
“It is well. This is an oddly-constructed world in which we live, Mr
Wilder! Some think themselves in danger, with a foundation beneath them
no less solid than _terra firma_, while others are content to trust
their fortunes on the sea. So, again, some there are who believe
praying is the business of man; and then come others who are sparing of
their breath, and take those favours for themselves which they have not
always the leisure or the inclination to ask for. No doubt you thought
it prudent to inquire into the nature of our trade, before you came
hither in quest of employment?”
“You are said to be a slaver, among the townsmen of Newport.”
“They are never wrong, your village gossips! If witchcraft ever truly
existed on earth, the first of the cunning tribe has been a village
innkeeper; the second, its doctor; and the third, its priest. The right
to the fourth honour may be disputed between the barber and the
tailor.—Roderick!”
The Captain accompanied the word by which he so unceremoniously
interrupted himself, by striking a light blow on a Chinese gong, which,
among other curiosities, was suspended from one of the beams of the
upper deck, within reach of his hand.
“I say, Roderick, do you sleep?”
A light and active boy darted out of one of the two little state-rooms
which were constructed on the quarters of the ship, and answered to the
summons by announcing his presence.
“Has the boat returned?”
The reply was in the affirmative.
“And has she been successful?”
“The General is in his room, sir, and can give you an answer better
than I.”
“Then, let the General appear, and report the result of his campaign.”
Wilder was by far too deeply interested, to break the sudden reverie
into which his companion had now evidently fallen, even by breathing as
loud as usual. The boy descended through the hatch like a serpent
gliding into his hole, or, rather, a fox darting into his burrow, and
then a profound stillness reigned in the cabin. The Commander of the
ship leaned his head on his hand, appearing utterly unconscious of the
presence of any stranger. The silence might have been of much longer
duration, had it not been interrupted by the appearance of a third
person. A straight, rigid form slowly elevated itself through the
little hatchway, very much in the manner that theatrical spectres are
seen to make their appearance on the stage, until about half of the
person was visible, when it ceased to rise, and turned its disciplined
countenance on the Captain.
“I wait for orders,” said a mumbling voice, which issued from lips that
were hardly perceived to move.
Wilder started as this unexpected individual appeared; nor was the
stranger wanting in an aspect sufficiently remarkable to produce
surprise in any spectator. The face was that of a man of fifty, with
the lineaments rather indurated than faded by time. Its colour was an
uniform red, with the exception of one of those expressive little
fibrous tell-tales on each cheek, which bear so striking a resemblance
to the mazes of the vine, and which would seem to be the true origin of
the proverb which says that “good wine needs no bush.” The head was
bald on its crown; but around either ear was a mass of grizzled hair,
pomatumed and combed into formal military bristles. The neck was long,
and supported by a black stock; the shoulders, arms, and body were
those of a man of tall stature; and the whole were enveloped in an
over-coat, which, though it had something methodical in its fashion,
was evidently intended as a sort of domino. The Captain raised his head
as the other spoke, exclaiming,—
“Ah! General, are you at your post? Did you find the land?”
“Yes.”
“And the point?—and the man?”
“Both.”
“And what did you?”
“Obey orders.”
“That was right.—You are a jewel for an executive officer, General;
and, as such, I wear you near my heart. Did the fellow complain?”
“He was gagged.”
“A summary method of closing remonstrance. It is as it should be,
General; as usual, you have merited my approbation.”
“Then reward me for it.”
“In what manner? You are already as high in rank as I can elevate you.
The next step must be knighthood.”
“Pshaw! my men are no better than militia. They want coats.”
“They shall have them. His Majesty’s guards shall not be half so well
equipt. General, I wish you a good night.”
The figure descended, in the same rigid, spectral manner as it had
risen on the sight, leaving Wilder again alone with the Captain of the
ship. The latter seemed suddenly struck with the fact that this odd
interview had occurred in the presence of one who was nearly a
stranger, and that, in his eyes at least, it might appear to require
some explanation.
“My friend,” he said, with an air something explanatory while it was at
the same time not a little naughty, “commands what, in a more regular
cruiser, would be called the ‘marine guard.’ He has gradually risen, by
service, from the rank of a subaltern, to the high station which he now
fills. You perceive he smells of the camp?”
“More than of the ship. Is it usual for slavers to be so well provided
with military equipments? I find you armed at all points.”
“You would know more of us, before we proceed to drive our bargain?”
the Captain answered, with a smile. He then opened a little casket that
stood on the table, and drew from it a parchment, which he coolly
handed to Wilder, saying, as he did so, with one of the quick,
searching glances of his restless eye, “You will see, by that, we have
‘letters of marque,’ and are duly authorized to fight the battles of
the King, while we are conducting our own more peaceable affairs.”
“This is the commission of a brig!”
“True, true. I have given you the wrong paper. I believe you will find
this more accurate.”
“This is truly a commission for the ‘good ship Seven Sisters;’ but you
surely carry more than ten guns, and, then, these in your cabin throw
nine instead of four pound shot!”
“Ah! you are as precise as though you had been the barrister, and I the
blundering seaman. I dare say you have heard of such a thing as
stretching a commission,” continued the Captain drily, as he carelessly
threw the parchment back among a pile of similar documents. Then,
rising from his seat, he began to pace the cabin with quick steps, as
he continued, “I need not tell you, Mr Wilder, that ours is a hazardous
pursuit. Some call it lawless. But, as I am little addicted to
theological disputes, we will wave the question. You have not come here
without knowing your errand.”
“I am in search of a birth.”
“Doubtless you have reflected well on the matter and know your own mind
as to the trade in which you would sail. In order that no time may be
wasted and that our dealings may be frank, as becomes two honest
seamen, I will confess to you, at once, that I have need of you. A
brave and skilful man, one older, though, I dare say, not better than
yourself occupied that larboard state-room, within the month; but, poor
fellow, he is food for fishes ere this.”
“He was drowned?”
“Not he! He died in open battle with a King’s ship!”
“A King’s ship! Have you then stretched your commission so far as to
find a warranty for giving battle to his Majesty’s cruisers?”
“Is there no King but George the Second! Perhaps she bore the white
flag, perhaps a Dane. But he was truly a gallant fellow; and there lies
his birth, as empty as the day he was carried from it, to be cast into
the sea. He was a man fit to succeed to the command, should an evil
star shine on my fate, I think I could die easier, were I to know this
noble vessel was to be transmitted to one who would make such use of
her as should be.”
“Doubtless your owners would provide a successor in the event of such a
calamity.”
“My owners are very reasonable,” returned the other, with a meaning
smile, while he cast another searching glance at his guest, which
compelled Wilder to lower his own eyes to the cabin floor; “they seldom
trouble me with importunities, or orders.”
“They are indulgent! I see that flags were not forgotten in your
inventory: Do they also give you permission to wear any one of all
those ensigns, as you may please?”
As this question was put, the expressive and understanding looks of the
two seamen met. The Captain drew a flag from the half-open locker,
where it had caught the attention of his visiter, and, letting the roll
unfold itself on the deck, he answered,—
“This is the Lily of France, you see. No bad emblem of your stainless
Frenchman. An escutcheon of pretence without spot, but, nevertheless, a
little soiled by too much use. Here, you have the calculating Dutchman;
plain, substantial, and cheap. It is a flag I little like. If the ship
be of value, her owners are not often willing to dispose of her without
a price. This is your swaggering Hamburgher. He is rich in the
possession of one town, and makes his boast of it, in these towers. Of
the rest of his mighty possessions he wisely says nothing in his
allegory These are the Crescents of Turkey; a moon-struck nation, that
believe themselves the inheritors of heaven. Let them enjoy their
birthright in peace; it is seldom they are found looking for its
blessings on the high seas—and these, the little satellites that play
about the mighty moon; your Barbarians of Africa. I hold but little
communion with these wide-trowsered gentry, for they seldom deal in
gainful traffic. And yet,” he added, glancing his eye at the silken
divan before which Wilder was seated, “I have met the rascals; nor have
we parted entirely without communication! Ah! here comes the man I
like; your golden, gorgeous Spaniard! This field of yellow reminds one
of the riches of her mines; and this Crown! one might fancy it of
beaten gold, and stretch forth a hand to grasp the treasure What a
blazonry is this for a galleon! Here is the humbler Portuguese; and yet
is he not without a wealthy look. I have often fancied there were true
Brazilian diamonds in this kingly bauble. Yonder crucifix, which you
see hanging in pious proximity to my state-room door, is a specimen of
the sort I mean.” Wilder turned his head, to throw a look on the
valuable emblem, that was really suspended from the bulkhead, within a
few inches of the spot the other named. After satisfying his curiosity
he was in the act of giving his attention again to the flags, when he
detected another of those penetrating, but stolen glances with which
his companion so often read the countenance of his associates. It might
have been that the Captain was endeavouring to discover the effect his
profuse display of wealth had produced on the mind of his visiter. Let
that be as it would, Wilder smiled; for, at that moment, the idea first
occurred that the ornaments of the cabin had been thus studiously
arranged with an expectation of his arrival, and with the wish that
their richness might strike his senses favourably. The other caught the
expression of his eye; and perhaps he mistook its meaning, when he
suffered his construction of what it said to animate him to pursue his
whimsical analysis of the flags, with an air still more cheerful and
vivacious than before.
“These double-headed monsters are land birds and seldom risk a flight
over deep waters. They are not for me. Your hardy, valiant Dane; your
sturdy Swede; a nest of smaller fry,” he continued, passing his hand
rapidly over a dozen little rolls as they lay, each in its own
repository, “who spread their bunting like larger states; and your
luxurious Neapolitan. Ah! here come the Keys of Heaven! This is a flag
to die under! I lay yard-arm and yard-arm, once, under that very bit of
bunting, with a heavy corsair from Algiers”—
“What! Did you choose to fight under the banners of the Church?”
“In mere devotion. I pictured to myself the surprise that would
overcome the barbarian, when he should find that we did not go to
prayers. We gave him but a round or two, before he swore that Allah had
decreed he might surrender. There was a moment while I luffed-up on his
weather-quarter, I believe, that the Mussulman thought the whole of the
holy Conclave was afloat, and that the downfall of Mahomet and his
offspring was ordained. I provoked the conflict, I will confess, in
showing him these peaceful Keys, which he is dull enough to think open
half the strong boxes of Christendom.”
“When he had confessed his error, you let him go?”
“Hum!—with my blessing. There was some interchange of commodities
between us, and then we parted. I left him smoking his pipe, in a heavy
sea with his fore-topmast over the side, his mizzenmast under his
counter, and some six or seven holes in his bottom, that let in the
water just as fast as the pumps discharged it. You see he was in a fair
way to acquire his portion of the inheritance. But Heaven had ordained
it all, and he was satisfied!”
“And what flags are these which you have passed? They seem rich, and
many.”
“These are England; like herself, aristocratic, party-coloured, and a
good deal touched by humour. Here is bunting to note all ranks and
conditions, as if men were not made of the same flesh, and the people
of one kingdom might not all sail honestly under the same emblems. Here
is my Lord High Admiral; your St. George; your field of red, and of
blue, as chance may give you a leader, or the humour of the moment
prevail; the stripes of mother India, and the Royal Standard itself!”
“The Royal Standard!”
“Why not? A commander is termed a ‘monarch in his ship.’ Ay; this is
the Standard of the King and, what is more, it has been worn in
presence of an Admiral!”
“This needs explanation!” exclaimed his listener who seemed to feel
much that sort of horror that a churchman would discover at the
detection of sacrilege. “To wear the Royal Standard in presence of a
flag! We all know how difficult, and even dangerous, it becomes, to
sport a simple pennant, with the eyes of a King’s cruiser on us—”
“I love to flaunt the rascals!” interrupted the other, with a
smothered, but bitter laugh. “There is pleasure in the thing!—In order
to punish, they must possess the power; an experiment often made, but
never yet successful. You understand balancing accounts with the law,
by showing a broad sheet of canvas! I need say no more.”
“And which of all these flags do you most use?” demanded Wilder, after
a moment of intense thought.
“As to mere sailing, I am as whimsical as a girl in her teens in the
choice of her ribbons. I will often show you a dozen in a day. Many is
the worthy trader who has gone into port with his veritable account of
this Dutchman, or that Dane, with whom he has spoken in the offing. As
to fighting, though I have been known to indulge a humour, too, in that
particular, still is there one which I most affect.”
“And that is?——”
The Captain kept his hand, for a moment, on the roll he had touched,
and seemed to read the very soul of his visiter, so intent and keen was
his look the while. Then, suffering the bunting to fall, a deep,
blood-red field, without relief or ornament of any sort, unfolded
itself, as he answered, with emphasis,—
“This.”
“That is the colour of a Rover!”
“Ay, it is _red_! I like it better than your gloomy fields of black,
with death’s heads, and other childish scare-crows. It threatens
nothing; but merely says, ‘Such is the price at which I am to be
bought.’ Mr Wilder,” he added, losing the mixture of irony and
pleasantry with which he had supported the previous dialogue, in an air
of authority, “We understand each other. It is time that each should
sail under his proper colours. I need not tell you who I am.”
“I believe it is unnecessary,” said Wilder. “If I can comprehend these
palpable signs, I stand in presence of—of—”
“The Red Rover,” continued the other, observing that he hesitated to
pronounce the appalling name. “It is true; and I hope this interview is
the commencement of a durable and firm friendship. I know not the
secret cause, but, from the moment of our meeting, a strong and
indefinable interest has drawn me towards you. Perhaps I felt the void
which my situation has drawn about me;—be that as it may, I receive you
with a longing heart and open arms.”
Though it must be very evident, from what-preceded this open avowal,
that Wilder was not ignorant of the character of the ship on board of
which he had just ventured, yet did he not receive the acknowledgment
without embarrassment. The reputation of this renowned freebooter, his
daring, his acts of liberality and licentiousness so frequently
blended, and his desperate disregard of life on all occasions, were
probably crowding together in the recollection of our more youthful
adventurer, and caused him to feel that species of responsible
hesitation to which we are all more or less subject on the occurrence
of important events, be they ever so much expected.
“You have not mistaken my purpose, or my suspicions,” he at length
answered, “for I own have come in search of this very ship. I accept
the service; and, from this moment, you will rate me in whatever
station you may think me best able to discharge my duty with credit.”
“You are next to myself. In the morning, the same shall be proclaimed
on the quarter-deck; and, in the event of my death, unless I am
deceived in my man, you will prove my successor. This may strike you as
sudden confidence. It is so, in part, I must acknowledge; but our
shipping lists cannot be opened, like those of the King, by beat of
drum in the streets of the metropolis; and, then, am I no judge of the
human heart, if my frank reliance on your faith does not, in itself,
strengthen your good feelings in my favour.”
“It does!” exclaimed Wilder, with sudden and deep emphasis.
The Rover smiled calmly, as he continued,—
“Young gentlemen of your years are apt to carry no small portion of
their hearts in their hands. But, notwithstanding this seeming
sympathy, in order that you may have sufficient respect for the
discretion of your leader, it is necessary that I should say we have
met before. I was apprised of your intention to seek me out, and to
offer to join me.”
“It is impossible!” cried Wilder, “No human being—”
“Can ever be certain his secrets are safe,” interrupted the other,
“when he carries a face as ingenuous as your own. It is but
four-and-twenty hours since you were in the good town of Boston.”
“I admit that much; but—”
“You will soon admit the rest. You were too curious in your inquiries
of the dolt who declares he was robbed by us of his provisions and
sails. The false-tongued villain! It may be well for him to keep from
my path, or he may get a lesson that shall prick his honesty. Does he
think such pitiful game as he would induce me to spread a single inch
of canvas, or even to lower a boat into the sea!”
“Is not his statement, then, true?” demanded Wilder, in a surprise he
took no pains to conceal.
“True! Am I what report has made me? Look keenly at the monster, that
nothing may escape you,” returned the Rover, with a hollow laugh, in
which scorn struggled to keep down the feelings of wounded pride.
“Where are the horns, and the cloven foot? Snuff the air: Is it not
tainted with sulphur? But enough of this. I knew of your inquiries, and
liked your mien. In short, you were my study; and, though my approaches
were made with some caution they were sufficiently nigh to effect the
object. You pleased me, Wilder; and I hope the satisfaction may be
mutual.”
The newly engaged buccanier bowed to the compliment of his superior,
and appeared at some little loss for a reply: As if to get rid of the
subject at once, he hurriedly observed,—
“As we now understand each other, I will intrude no longer, but leave
you for the night, and return to my duty in the morning.”
“Leave me!” returned the Rover, stopping short on his walk, and
fastening his eye keenly on the other. “It is not usual for my officers
to leave me at this hour. A sailor should love his ship, and never
sleep out of her, unless on compulsion.”
“We may as well understand each other,” said Wilder, quickly. “If it is
to be a slave, and, like one of the bolts, a fixture in the vessel,
that you need me, our bargain is at an end.”
“Hum! I admire your spirit, sir, much more than your discretion. You
will find me an attached friend and one who little likes a separation,
however short Is there not enough to content you here? I will not speak
of such low considerations as those which administer to the ordinary
appetites. But, you have been taught the value of reason; here are
books—you have taste; here is elegance—you are poor, here is wealth.”
“They amount to nothing, without liberty,” coldly returned the other.
“And what is this liberty you ask? I hope, young man, you would not so
soon betray the confidence you have just received! Our acquaintance is
but short, and I may have been too hasty in my faith.”
“I must return to the land,” Wilder added, firmly, “if it be only to
know that I am intrusted, and am not a prisoner.”
“There is generous sentiment, or deep villany, in all this,” resumed
the Rover, after a minute of deep thought. “I will believe the former.
Declare to me, that, while in the town of Newport, you will inform no
soul of the true character of this ship.”
“I will swear it,” eagerly interrupted Wilder.
“On this cross,” rejoined the Rover, with a sarcastic laugh; “on this
diamond-mounted cross! No, sir,” he added, with a proud curl of the
lip, as he cast the jewel contemptuously aside, “oaths are made for men
who need laws to keep them to their promises; I need no more than the
clear and unequivocal affirmation of a gentleman.”
“Then, plainly and unequivocally do I declare, that, while in Newport,
I will discover the character of this ship to no one, without your
wish, or order so to do. Nay more”—
“No more. It is wise to be sparing of our pledges, and to say no more
than the occasion requires. The time may come when you might do good to
yourself, without harming me, by being unfettered by a promise. In an
hour, you shall land; that time will be needed to make you acquainted
with the terms of your enlistment, and to grace my rolls with your
name.—Roderick,” he added, again touching the gong, “you are wanted,
boy.”
The same active lad, that had made his appearance at the first summons,
ran up the steps from the cabin beneath, and announced his presence
again by his voice.
“Roderick,” continued the Rover, “this is my future lieutenant, and, of
course, your officer, and my friend. Will you take refreshment, sir?
there is little, that man needs, which Roderick cannot supply.”
“I thank you; I have need of none.”
“Then, have the goodness to follow the boy. He will show you into the
dining apartment beneath, and give you the written regulations. In an
hour, you will have digested the code, and by that time I shall be with
you. Throw the light more upon the ladder, boy; you can descend
_without_ a ladder though, it would seem, or I should not, at this
moment, have the pleasure of your company.”
The intelligent smile of the Rover was unanswered by any corresponding
evidence from the subject of his joke, that he found satisfaction in
the remembrance of the awkward situation in which he had been left in
the tower. The former caught the displeased expression of the other’s
countenance, as he gravely prepared to follow the boy, who already
stood in the hatchway with a light. Advancing a step with the grace and
tones of sensitive breeding, he said quickly,—
“Mr Wilder, I owe you an apology for my seeming rudeness at parting on
the hill. Though I believed you mine, I was not sure of my acquisition.
You will readily see how necessary it might be, to one in my situation,
to throw off a companion at such a moment.”
Wilder turned, with a countenance from which every shade of displeasure
had vanished, and motioned to him to say no more.
“It was awkward enough, certainly, to find one’s self in such a prison;
but I feel the justice of what you say. I might have done the very
thing myself, if the same presence of mind were at hand to help me.”
“The good man, who grinds in the Newport ruin, must be in a sad way,
since all the rats are leaving his mill,” cried the Rover gaily, as his
companion descended after the boy. Wilder now freely returned his open,
cordial laugh, and then, as he descended, the cabin was left to him
who, a few minutes before, had been found in its quiet possession.