“For he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman.”
_King Henry IV_
The moment was now one of high and earnest excitement. Each individual,
who was charged with a portion of the subordinate authority of the
ship, had examined into the state of his command, with that engrossing
care which always deepens as responsibility draws nigher to the proofs
of its being worthily bestowed. The voice of the harsh master had
ceased to inquire into the state of those several ropes and chains that
were deemed vital to the safety of the vessel; each chief of a battery
had assured and re-assured himself that his artillery was ready for
instant, and the most effective, service; extra ammunition had already
issued from its dark and secret repository; and even the hum of
dialogue had ceased, in the more engrossing and all-absorbing interest
of the scene. Still the quick and ever-changing glance of the Rover
could detect no reason to distrust the firmness of his people. They
were grave, as are ever the bravest and steadiest in the hour of trial;
but their gravity was mingled with no signs of concern. It seemed
rather like the effect of desperate and concentrated resolution, such
as braces the human mind to efforts which exceed the ordinary daring of
martial enterprise. To this cheering exhibition of the humour of his
crew the wary and sagacious leader saw but three exceptions; they were
found in the persons of his lieutenant and his two remarkable
associates.
It has been seen that the bearing of Wilder was not altogether such as
became one of his rank in a moment of great trial. The keen, jealous
glances of the Rover had studied and re-studied his manner, without
arriving at any satisfactory conclusion as to its real cause. The
colour was as fresh on the cheeks of the youth, and his limbs were as
firm as in the hours of entire security; but the unsettled wandering of
his eye, and an air of doubt and indecision which pervaded a mien that
ought to display qualities so opposite, gave his Commander cause for
deep reflection. As if to find an explanation of the enigma in the
deportment of the associates of Wilder, his look sought the persons of
Fid and the negro. They were both stationed at the piece nearest to the
place he himself occupied, the former filling the station of captain of
the gun.
The ribs of the ship itself were not firmer in their places than was
the attitude of the topman, as he occasionally squinted along the
massive iron tube over which he was placed in command; nor was that
familiar and paternal care, which distinguishes the seaman’s interest
in his particular trust, wanting in his manner. Still, an air of broad
and inexplicable surprise had possession of his rugged lineaments; and
ever, as his look wandered from the countenance of Wilder to their
adversary, it was not difficult to discover that he marvelled to find
the two in opposition. He neither commented on, nor complained,
however, of an occurrence he evidently found so extraordinary, but
appeared perfectly disposed to pursue the spirit of that well-known
maxim of the mariner which teaches the obedient tar “to obey orders,
though he break owners.” Every portion of the athletic form of the
negro was motionless, except his eyes. These large, jet-black orbs,
however rolled incessantly, like the more dogmatic organs of the
topman, from Wilder to the strange sail, seeming to drink in fresh
draughts of astonishment at each new look.
Struck by these evident manifestations of some extraordinary and yet
common sentiment between the two, the Rover profited by his own
position, and the distance of the lieutenant, to address them. Leaning
over the slight rail that separated the break of the poop from the
quarter-deck, he said, in that familiar manner which the Commander is
most wont to use to his inferiors when their services are becoming of
the greatest importance,—
“I hope, master Fid, they have put you at a gun that knows how to
speak.”
“There is not a smoother bore, nor a wider mouth, in the ship, your
Honour, than these of ‘Blazing Billy,’” returned the topman, giving the
subject of his commendations an affectionate slap. “All I ask is a
clean spunge and a tight wad. Guinea score a foul anchor, in your own
fashion, on a half dozen of the shot; and, after the matter is all
over, they who live through it may go aboard the enemy, and see in what
manner Richard Fid has planted his seed.”
“You are not new in action, master Fid?”
“Lord bless your Honour! gunpowder is no more than dry tobacco in my
nostrils! tho’f I will say”
“You were going to add”——
“That sometimes I find myself shifted over, in these here affairs,”
returned the topman, glancing his eye first at the flag of France, and
then at the distant emblem of England, “like a jib-boom rigged, abaft,
for a jury to the spanker. I suppose master Harry has it all in his
pocket, in black and white; but this much I will say, that, if I must
throw stones, I should rather see them break a neighbour’s crockery
than that of my own mother.—I say, Guinea, score a couple more of the
shot; since, if the play is to be acted, I’ve a mind the ‘Blazing
Billy’ should do something creditable for the honour of her good name.”
The Rover drew back, thoughtful and silent. He then caught a look from
Wilder, whom he again beckoned to approach.
“Mr Wilder,” he said, in a tone of kindness, “I comprehend your
feelings. All have not offended alike in yonder vessel, and you would
rather your service against that haughty flag should commence with some
other ship. There is little else but empty honour to be gained in the
conflict—in tenderness to your feelings, I will avoid it.”
“It is too late,” said Wilder, with a melancholy shake of the head.
“You shall see your error. The experiment may cost us a broadside, but
it shall succeed. Go, descend with our guests to a place of safety;
and, by the time you return, the scene shall have undergone a change.”
Wilder eagerly disappeared in the cabin, whither Mrs Wyllys had already
withdrawn; and, after communicating the intentions of his Commander to
avoid an action, he conducted them into the depths of the vessel, in
order that no casualty might arrive to imbitter his recollections of
the hour. This grateful duty promptly and solicitously performed, our
adventurer again sought the deck, with the velocity of thought.
Notwithstanding his absence had seemed but of a moment, the scene had
indeed changed in all its hostile images. In place of the flag of
France, he found the ensign of England floating at the peak of the
“Dolphin,” and a quick and intelligible exchange of lesser signals in
active operation between the two vessels. Of all that cloud of canvas
which had so lately borne down the vessel of the Rover, her top sails
alone remained distended to the yards; the remainder was hanging in
festoons, and fluttering loosely before a favourable breeze. The ship
itself was running directly for the stranger, who, in turn, was
sullenly securing his lofty sails, like one who was disappointed in a
high-prized and expected object.
“Now is yon fellow sorry to believe him a friend whom he had lately
supposed an enemy,” said the Rover, directing the attention of his
lieutenant to the confiding manner with which their neighbour suffered
himself to be deceived by his surreptitiously obtained signals. “It is
a tempting offer; but I pass it, Wilder for your sake.”
The gaze of the lieutenant seemed bewildered, but he made no reply.
Indeed, but little time was given for deliberation or discourse. The
“Dolphin” rolled swiftly along her path, and each moment dissipated the
mist in which distance had enveloped the lesser objects on board the
stranger. Guns, blocks, ropes, bolts, men, and even features, became
plainly visible, in rapid succession, as the water that divided them
was parted by the bows of the lawless ship. In a few short minutes, the
stranger, having secured most of his lighter canvas, came sweeping up
to the wind; and then, as his after-sails, squared for the purpose,
took the breeze on their outer surface, the mass of his hull became
stationary.
The people of the “Dolphin” had so far imitated the confiding credulity
of the deceived cruiser of the Crown, as to furl all their loftiest
duck, each man employed in the service trusting implicitly to the
discretion and daring of the singular being whose pleasure it was to
bring their ship into so hazardous a proximity to a powerful
enemy—qualities that had been known to avail them in circumstances of
even greater delicacy than those in which they were now placed. With
this air of audacious confidence, the dreaded Rover came gliding down
upon her unsuspecting neighbour, until within a few hundred feet of her
weather-beam, when she too, with a graceful curve in her course, bore
up against the breeze, and came to a state of rest. But Wilder, who
regarded all the movements of his superior in silent amazement, was not
slow in observing that the head of the “Dolphin” was laid a different
way from that of the other, and that her progress had been arrested by
the counteracting position of her head-yards; a circumstance that
afforded the advantage of a quicker command of the ship, should need
require a sudden recourse to the guns.
The “Dolphin” was still drifting slowly under the last influence of her
recent motion, when the customary hoarse and nearly unintelligible
summons came over the water, demanding her appellation and character.
The Rover applied his trumpet to his lips, with a meaning glance that
was directed towards his lieutenant, and returned the name of a ship,
in the service of the King, that was known to be of the size and force
of his own vessel.
“Ay, ay,” returned a voice from out of the other ship, “’twas so I made
out your signals.”
The hail was then reciprocated, and the name of the royal cruiser given
in return, followed by an invitation from her Commander, to his brother
in authority to visit his superior.
Thus far, no more had occurred than was usual between seamen in the
same service; but the affair was rapidly arriving at a point that most
men would have found too embarrassing for further deception. Still the
observant eye of Wilder detected no hesitation or doubt in the manner
of his chief. The beat of the drum was heard from the cruiser,
announcing the “retreat from quarters;” and, with perfect composure, he
directed the same signal to be given for his own people to retire from
their guns. In short, five minutes established every appearance of
entire confidence and amity between two vessels which would have soon
been at deadly strife, had the true character of one been known to the
other. In this state of the doubtful game he played, and with the
invitation still ringing in the ears of Wilder, the Rover motioned his
lieutenant to his side.
“You hear that I am desired to visit my senior in the service of his
Majesty,” he said, with a smile of irony playing about his scornful
lip. “Is it your pleasure to be of the party?”
The start with which Wilder received this hardy proposal was far too
natural to proceed from any counterfeited emotion.
“You are not so mad as to run the risk!” he exclaimed when words were
at command.
“If you fear for yourself, I can go alone.”
“Fear!” echoed the youth, a bright flush giving an additional glow to
the flashing of his kindling eye. “It is not fear, Captain Heidegger,
but prudence, that tells me to keep concealed. My presence would betray
the character of this ship. You forget that I am known to all in yonder
cruiser.”
“I had indeed forgotten that portion of the plot. Then remain, while I
go to play upon the credulity of his Majesty’s Captain.”
Without waiting for an answer, the Rover led the way below, signing for
his companion to follow. A few moments sufficed to arrange the fair
golden locks that imparted such a look of youth and vivacity to the
countenance of the former. The undress, fanciful frock he wore in
common was exchanged for the attire of one of his assumed rank and
service, which had been made to fit his person with the nicest care,
and with perhaps a coxcomical attention to the proportions of his
really fine person; and in all other things was he speedily equipped
for the disguise he chose to affect. No sooner were these alterations
in his appearance completed, (and they were effected with a brevity and
readiness that manifested much practice in similar artifices,) than he
disposed himself to proceed on the intended experiment.
“Truer and quicker eyes have been deceived,” he coolly observed,
turning his glance from a mirror to the countenance of his lieutenant,
as he spoke, “than those which embellish the countenance of Captain
Bignall.”
“You know him, then?”
“Mr Wilder, my business imposes the necessity of knowing much that
other men overlook. Now is this adventure, which, by your features, I
perceive you deem so forlorn in its hopes of success, one of easy
achievement. I am convinced that not an officer or man on board the
‘Dart’ has ever seen the ship whose name I have chosen to usurp. She is
too fresh from the stocks to incur that risk. Then is there little
probability that I, in my other self, shall be compelled to acknowledge
acquaintance with any of her officers; for you well know that years
have passed since your late ship has been in Europe; and, by running
your eye over these books, you will perceive I am that favoured mortal,
the son of a Lord, and have not only grown into command, but into
manhood, since her departure from home.”
“These are certainly favouring circumstances, and such as I had not the
sagacity to detect.—But why incur the risk at all?”
“Why! Perhaps there is a deep-laid scheme to learn if the prize would
repay the loss of her capture; perhaps——it is my humour. There is
fearful excitement in the adventure.”
“And there is fearful danger.”
“I never count the price of these enjoyments.—Wilder,” he added,
turning to him with a look of frank and courteous confidence, “I place
life and honour in your keeping; for to me it would be dishonour to
desert the interests of my crew.”
“The trust shall be respected,” repeated our adventurer in a tone so
deep and choaked as to be nearly unintelligible.
Regarding the still ingenuous countenance of his companion intently for
an instant, the Rover smiled as if he approved of the pledge, waved his
hand in adieu, and, turning, was about to leave the cabin but a third
form, at that moment, caught his wandering glance. Laying a hand
lightly on the shoulder of the boy, whose form was placed somewhat
obtrusively in his way, he demanded, a little sternly.
“Roderick, what means this preparation?”
“To follow my master to the boat.”
“Boy, thy service is not needed.”
“It is rarely wanted of late.”
“Why should I add unnecessarily to the risk of lives, where no good can
attend the hazard?”
“In risking your own, you risk all to me,” was the answer, given in a
tone so resigned, and yet so faltering that the tremulous and nearly
smothered sounds caught no ears but those for whom they were intended.
The Rover for a time replied not. His hand still kept its place on the
shoulder of the boy, whose working features his riveted eye read, as
the organ is sometimes wont to endeavour to penetrate the mystery of
the human heart.
“Roderick,” he at length said, in a milder and a a kinder voice, “your
lot shall be mine; we go together.”
Then, dashing his hand hastily across his brow the wayward chief
ascended the ladder, attended by the lad, and followed by the
individual in whose faith he reposed so great a trust. The step with
which the Rover trod his deck was firm, and the bearing of his form as
steady as though he felt no hazard in his undertaking. His look passed,
with a seaman’s care, from sail to sail; and not a brace, yard, or
bow-line escaped the quick understanding glances he cast about him,
before he proceeded to the side, in order to enter a boat which he had
already ordered to be in waiting. A glimmering of distrust and
hesitation was now, for the first time, discoverable through the
haughty and bold decision of his features. For a moment his foot
lingered on the ladder. “Davis,” he said sternly to the individual
whom, by his own experience he knew to be so long practised in
treachery “leave the boat. Send me the gruff captain of the forecastle
in his place. So bold a talker, in common, should know how to be silent
at need.”
The exchange was instantly made; for no one, there, was ever known to
dispute a mandate that was uttered with the air of authority he then
wore. A deeply intent attitude of thought succeeded, and then every
shadow of care vanished from that brow, on which a look of high and
generous confidence was seated, as he added,—
“Wilder, adieu! I leave you Captain of my people and master of my fate:
Certain I am that both trusts are reposed in worthy hands.”
Without waiting for reply, as if he scorned the vain ceremony of idle
assurances, he descended swiftly to the boat, which at the next instant
was pulling boldly towards the King’s cruiser. The brief interval which
succeeded, between the departure of the adventurers and their arrival
at the hostile ship, was one of intense and absorbing suspense on the
part of all whom they had left behind. The individual most interested
in the event, however, betrayed neither in eye nor movement any of the
anxiety which so intently beset the minds of his followers. He mounted
the side of his enemy amid the honours due to his imaginary rank, with
a self-possession and ease that might readily have been mistaken, by
those who believe these fancied qualities have a real existence, for
the grace and dignity of lofty recollections and high birth. His
reception, by the honest veteran whose long and hard services had
received but a meager reward in the vessel he commanded, was frank,
manly, and seaman-like. No sooner had the usual greetings passed, than
the latter conducted his guest into his own apartments.
“Find such a birth, Captain Howard, as suits your inclination,” said
the unceremonious old seaman, seating himself as frankly as he invited
his companion to imitate his example. “A gentleman of your
extraordinary merit must be reluctant to lose time in useless words,
though you are so young—young for the pretty command it is your good
fortune to enjoy!”
“On the contrary, I do assure you I begin to feel myself quite an
antediluvian,” returned the Rover coolly placing himself at the
opposite side of the table, where he might, from time to time, look his
half-disgusted companion full in the eye: “Would you imagine it, sir? I
shall have reached the age of three-and-twenty, if I live through the
day.”
“I had given you a few more years, young gentleman; but London can
ripen the human face as speedily as the Equator.”
“You never said truer words, sir. Of all cruising grounds, Heaven
defend me from that of St. James’s! I do assure you, Bignall, the
service is quite sufficient to wear out the strongest constitution.
There were moments when I really thought I should have died that
humble, disagreeable mortal—a lieutenant!”
“Your disease would then have been a galloping consumption!” muttered
the indignant old seaman. “They have sent you out in a pretty boat at
last, Captain Howard.”
“She’s bearable, Bignall, but frightfully small. I told my father,
that, if the First Lord didn’t speedily regenerate the service, by
building more comfortable vessels, the navy would get altogether into
vulgar hands. Don’t you find the motion excessively annoying in these
single-deck’d ships, Bignall?”
“When a man has been tossing up and down for five-and-forty years,
Captain Howard,” returned his host, stroking his gray locks, for want
of some other manner of suppressing his ire, “he gets to be indifferent
whether his ship pitches a foot more or a foot less.”
“Ah! that, I dare say, is what one calls philosophical equanimity,
though little to my humour. But, after this cruise, I am to be posted;
and then I shall make interest for a guard-ship in the Thames; every
thing goes by interest now-a-days, you know, Big-nail.”
The honest old tar swallowed his displeasure as well as he could; and,
as the most effectual means of keeping himself in a condition to do
credit to his own hospitality, he hastened to change the subject.
“I hope, among other new fashions, Captain Howard,” he said, “the flag
of Old England continues to fly over the Admiralty. You wore the
colours of Louis so long this morning, that another half hour might
have brought us to loggerheads.”
“Oh! that was an excellent military ruse! I shall certainly write the
particulars of that deception home.”
“Do so; do so, sir; you may get knighthood for the exploit.”
“Horrible, Bignall! my Lady mother would faint at the suggestion.
Nothing so low has been in the family, I do assure you, since the time
when chivalry was genteel.”
“Well, well, Captain Howard, it was happy for us both that you got rid
of your Gallic humour so soon; for a little more time would have drawn
a broadside from me. By heavens, sir, the guns of this ship would have
gone off of themselves, in another five minutes!”
“It is quite happy as it is.—What do you find to amuse you (yawning) in
this dull quarter of the world, Bignall?”
“Why, sir, what between his Majesty’s enemies, the care of my ship, and
the company of my officers, I find few heavy moments.”
“Ah! your officers: True, you _must_ have officers on board; though, I
suppose, they are a little oldish to be agreeable to _you_. Will you
favour me with a sight of the list?”
The Commander of the ‘Dart’ did as he was requested, putting the
quarter-bill of his ship into the hands of his unknown enemy, with an
eye that was far too honest to condescend to bestow even a look on a
being so much despised.
“What a list of thorough mouthers! All Yarmouth, and Plymouth, and
Portsmouth, and Exmouth names, I do affirm. Here are Smiths enough to
do the iron-work of the whole ship. Ha! here is a fellow that might do
good service in a deluge. Who may be this Henry Ark, that I find rated
as your first lieutenant?”
“A youth who wants but a few drops of your blood, Captain Howard, to be
one day at the head of his Majesty’s fleet.”
“If he be then so extraordinary for his merit, Captain Bignall, may I
presume on your politeness to ask him to favour us with his society. I
always give my lieutenant half an hour of a morning—if he be genteel.”
“Poor boy! God knows where he is to be found at this moment. The noble
fellow has embarked, of his own accord, on a most dangerous service,
and I am as ignorant as yourself of his success. Remonstrance and even
entreaties, were of no avail. The Admiral had great need of a suitable
agent, and the good of the nation demanded the risk; then, you know,
men of humble birth must earn their preferment in cruising elsewhere
than at St. James’s; for the brave lad is indebted to a wreck, in which
he was found an infant, for the very name you find so singular.”
“He is, however, still borne upon your books as first lieutenant?”
“And I hope ever will be, until he shall get the ship he so well
merits.—Good Heaven! are you ill Captain Howard? Boy, a tumbler of grog
here.”
“I thank you, sir,” returned the Rover, smiling calmly, and rejecting
the offered beverage, as the blood returned into his features, with a
violence that threatened to break through the ordinary boundaries of
its currents. “It is no more than an ailing I inherit from my mother.
We call it, in our family, the ‘de Vere ivory;’ for no other reason,
that I could ever learn, than that one of my female ancestors was
particularly startled, in a delicate situation, you know, by an
elephant’s tooth. I am told it has rather an amiable look, while it
lasts.”
“It has the look of a man who is fitter for his mother’s nursery than a
gale of wind. But I am glad it is so soon over.”
“No one wears the same face long now-a-days, Bignall.—And so this Mr
Ark is not any body, after all.
“I know not what you call ‘any body,’ sir; but, if sterling courage,
great professional merit, and stern loyalty, count for any thing on
your late cruising grounds, Captain Howard, Henry Ark will soon be in
command of a frigate.”
“Perhaps, if one only knew exactly on what to found his claims,”
continued the Rover, with a smile so kind, and a voice so insinuating,
that they half counteracted the effect of his assumed manner, “a word
might be dropped, in a letter home, that should do the youth no harm.”
“I would to Heaven I dare but reveal the nature of the service he is
on!” eagerly returned the warm-hearted old seaman, who was as quick to
forget, as he was sudden to feel, disgust. “You may, however, safely
say, from his general character, that it is honourable, hazardous, and
has the entire good of his Majesty’s subjects in view. Indeed, an hour
has scarcely gone by since I thought that, it was completely
successful.—Do you often set your lofty sails, Captain Howard, while
the heavier canvas is rolled upon the yards? To me, a ship clothed in
that style looks something like a man with his coat on, before he has
cased his legs in the lower garment.”
“You allude to the accident of my maintop-gallant-sail getting loose
when you first made me?”
“I mean no other. We had caught a glimpse of your spars with the glass;
but had lost you altogether, when the flying duck met the eye of a
look-out. To say the least, it, was remarkable, and it might have
proved an awkward circumstance.”
“Ah! I often do things in that way, in order to be odd. It is a sign of
cleverness to be odd, you know.—But I, too, am sent into these seas on
a special errand.”
“Such as what?” bluntly demanded his companion with an uneasiness about
his frowning eye that he was far too simple-minded to conceal.
“To look for a ship that will certainly give me a famous lift, should I
have the good luck to fall in with her. For some time, I took you for
the very gentle man I was in search of; and I do assure you, if your
signals had not been so very unexceptionable, something serious might
have happened between us.”
“And pray, sir, for whom did you take me?”
“For no other than that notorious knave the Red Rover.”
“The devil you did! And do yon suppose, Captain Howard, there is a
pirate afloat who carries such hamper above his head as is to be found
aboard the Dart?’ Such a set to her sails—such a step to her masts—and
such a trim to her hull? I hope, for the honour of your vessel, sir,
that the mistake went no further than the Captain?”
“Until we got within leading distance of the signals, at least a moiety
of the better opinions in my ship was dead against you, Bignall, I give
you my declaration. You’ve really been so long from home, that the
‘Dart’ is getting quite a roving look. You may not be sensible of it,
but I assure you of the fact merely as a friend.”
“And, perhaps, since you did me the honour to mistake my vessel for a
freebooter,” returned the old tar, smothering his ire in a look of
facetious irony, which changed the expression of his mouth to a grim
grin, “you might have conceited this honest gentleman here to be no
other than Beelzebub.”
As he spoke, the Commander of the ship, which had borne so odious an
imputation, directed the eyes of his companion to the form of a third
individual, who had entered the cabin with the freedom of a privileged
person, but with a tread so light as to be inaudible. As this
unexpected form met the quick, impatient glance of the pretended
officer of the Crown, he arose involuntarily, and, for half a minute,
that admirable command of muscle and nerve, which had served him so
well in maintaining his masquerade, appeared entirely to desert him.
The loss of self-possession, however, was but for a time so short as to
attract no notice; and he coolly returned the salutations of an aged
man, of a meek and subdued look, with that air of blandness and
courtesy which he so well knew how to assume.
“This gentleman is your chaplain, sir, I presume, by his clerical
attire,” he said, after he had exchanged bows with the stranger.
“He is, sir—a worthy and honest man, whom I am not ashamed to call my
friend. After a separation of thirty years, the Admiral has been good
enough to lend him to me for the cruise; and, though my ship is none of
the largest, I believe he finds himself as comfortable in her as he
would aboard the flag.—This gentleman, Doctor, is the _honourable_
Captain Howard, of his Majesty’s ship ‘Antelope.’ I need not expatiate
on his remarkable merit, since the command he bears, at his years, is a
sufficient testimony on that important particular.”
There was a look of bewildered surprise in the gaze of the divine, when
his glance first fell upon the features of the pretended scion of
nobility; but it was far less striking than had been that of the
subject of his gaze, and of much shorter continuance. He again bowed
meekly, and with that deep reverence which long use begets, even in the
best-intentioned minds, when brought in contact with the fancied
superiority of hereditary rank; but he did not appear to consider the
occasion one that required he should say more than the customary words
of salutation. The Rover turned calmly to his veteran companion, and
continued the discourse.
“Captain Bignall,” he said, again wearing that grace of manner which
became him so well, “it is my duty to follow your motions in this
interview. I will now return to my ship; and if, as I begin to suspect
we are in these seas on a similar errand, we can concert at our leisure
a system of co-operation, which, properly matured by your experience,
may serve to bring about the common end we have in view.”
Greatly mollified by this concession to his years and to his rank, the
Commander of the “Dart” pressed his hospitalities warmly on his guest,
winding up his civilities by an invitation to join in a marine feast at
an hour somewhat later in the day. All the former offers were politely
declined, while the latter was accepted; the invited making the
invitation itself an excuse that he should return to his own vessel in
order that he might select such of his officers as he should deem most
worthy of participating in the dainties of the promised banquet. The
veteran and really meritorious Bignall, notwithstanding the ordinary
sturdy blustering of his character, had served too long in indigence
and comparative obscurity not to feel some of the longings of human
nature for his hard-earned and protracted preferment. He consequently
kept, in the midst of all his native and manly honesty, a saving-eye on
the means of accomplishing this material object. It is to occasion no
surprise, therefore, that his parting from the supposed son of a
powerful champion at Court was more amicable than had been the meeting.
The Rover was bowed, from the cabin to the deck, with at least an
appearance of returning good-will. On reaching the latter, a hurried,
suspicious, and perhaps an uneasy glance was thrown from his restless
eyes on all those faces that were grouped around the gangway, by which
he was about to leave the ship; but their expression instantly became
calm again, and a little supercilious withal, in order to do no
discredit to the part in the comedy which it was his present humour to
enact. Then, shaking the worthy and thoroughly-deceived old seaman
heartily by the hand, he touched his hat, with an air half-haughty,
half-condescending to his inferiors. He was in the act of descending
into the boat, when the chaplain was seen to whisper something, with
great earnestness, in the ear of his Captain. The Commander hastened to
recall his departing guest, desiring him, with startling gravity to
lend him his private attention for another moment Suffering himself to
be led apart by the two the Rover stood awaiting their pleasure, with a
coolness of demeanour that, under the peculiar circumstances of his
case, did signal credit to his nerves.
“Captain Howard,” resumed the warm-hearted Bignall, “have you a
gentleman of the cloth in your vessel?”
“Two, sir,” was the ready answer.
“Two! It is rare to find a supernumerary priest in a man of war! But, I
suppose, Court influence could give the fellow a bishop,” muttered the
other. “You are fortunate in this particular, young gentle man, since I
am indebted to inclination, rather than to custom, for the society of
my worthy friend here he has, however, made a point that I should
include the reverend gentleman—I should say gentle_men_—in the
invitation.”
“You shall have all the divinity of _my_ ship, Big nail, on my faith.”
“I believe I was particular in naming your first lieutenant.”
“Oh! dead or alive, he shall surely be of your party,” returned the
Rover, with a suddenness and vehemence of utterance that occasioned
both his auditors to start with surprise. “You may not find him an ark
to rest your weary foot on; but, such as he is, he is entirely at your
service. And now, once more, I salute you.”
Bowing again, he proceeded, with his former deliberate air, over the
gangway, keeping his eye riveted on the lofty gear of the “Dart,” as he
descended her side, with much that sort of expression with which a
petit-maître is apt to regard the fashion of the garments of one newly
arrived from the provinces. His superior repeated his invitation with
warmth, and waved his hand in a frank but temporary adieu; thus
unconsciously suffering the man to escape him whose capture would have
purchased the long postponed and still distant advantages for whose
possession he secretly pined, with all the withering longings his hope
cruelly deferred.