CONCLUSION
Our first object will be to explain to the reader by what means Edward
Templemore was induced to surmise that in Francisco, whom he had
considered as a rival, he had found a brother; and also to account for
the reappearance of the pirate Cain.
In pursuance of his orders, Edward Templemore had proceeded on board of
the wreck of the _Avenger_; and while his men were employed in
collecting articles of great value which were on board of her, he had
descended into the cabin, which was partly under water. Here he had
picked up a book floating near the lockers, and on examination found it
to be a Bible.
Surprised at seeing such a book on board of a pirate, he had taken it
with him when he returned to the _Enterprise_, and had shown it to
Clara, who immediately recognised it as the property of Francisco. The
book was saturated with the salt water, and as Edward mechanically
turned over the pages, he referred to the title-page to see if there was
any name upon it. There was not; but he observed that the blank or
fly-leaf next to the binding had been pasted down, and that there was
writing on the other side. In its present state it was easily detached
from the cover; and then, to his astonishment, he read the name of
Cecilia Templemore--his own mother. He knew well the history; how he had
been saved, and his mother and brother supposed to be lost; and it may
readily be imagined how great was his anxiety to ascertain by what means
her Bible had come into the possession of Francisco. He dared not think
Francisco was his brother--that he was so closely connected with one he
still supposed to be a pirate: but the circumstance was possible; and
although he had intended to have remained a few days longer, he now
listened to the entreaties of Clara, whose peculiar position on board
was only to be justified by the peculiar position from which she had
been rescued, and returning that evening to the wreck he set fire to
her, and then made all sail for Port Royal.
Fortunately he arrived, as we have stated, on the day of the trial; and
as soon as the signal was made by the admiral he immediately manned his
gig, and taking Clara with him, in case her evidence might be of use,
arrived at the court-house when the trial was about half over.
In our last chapter but one, we stated that Cain had been wounded by
Hawkhurst, when he was swimming on shore, and had sunk; the ball had
entered his chest, and passed through his lungs. The contest between
Hawkhurst and Francisco, and their capture by Edward, had taken place on
the other side of the ridge of rocks, in the adjacent cove, and although
Francisco had seen Cain disappear, and concluded that he was dead, it
was not so; he had again risen above the water, and dropping his feet
and finding bottom, he contrived to crawl out, and wade into a cave
adjacent, where he lay down to die.
But in this cave there was one of the _Avenger's_ boats, two of the
pirates, mortally wounded, and the four Kroumen, who had concealed
themselves there with the intention of taking no part in the conflict,
and as soon as it became dark of making their escape in the boat, which
they had hauled up dry into the cave.
Cain staggered in, recovered the dry land, and fell. Pompey, the
Krouman, perceiving his condition, went to his assistance and bound up
his wound, and the stanching of the blood soon revived the pirate
captain. The other pirates died unaided.
Although the island was searched in every direction, this cave, from the
water flowing into it, escaped the vigilance of the British seamen; and
when they re-embarked with the majority of the pirates captured, Cain
and the Kroumen were undiscovered.
As soon as it was dark Cain informed them of his intentions; and
although the Kroumen would probably have left him to his fate, yet, as
they required his services to know how to steer to some other island, he
was assisted into the stern-sheets, and the boat was backed out of the
cave.
By the directions of Cain they passed through the passage between the
great island and the northern Cayque, and before daylight were far away
from any chance of capture.
Cain had now to a certain degree recovered, and knowing that they were
in the channel of the small traders, he pointed put to the Kroumen that,
if supposed to be pirates, they would inevitably be punished, although
not guilty, and that they must pass off as the crew of a small
coasting-vessel which had been wrecked. He then, with the assistance of
Pompey, cut off his beard as close as he could, and arranged his dress
in a more European style. They had neither water nor provisions, and
were exposed to a vertical sun. Fortunately for them, and still more
fortunately for Francisco, on the second day they were picked up by an
American brig bound to Antigua.
Cain narrated his fictitious disasters, but said nothing about his
wound, the neglect of which would certainly have occasioned his death a
very few days after he appeared at the trial, had he not fallen by the
malignity of Hawkhurst.
Anxious to find his way to Port Royal, for he was indifferent as to his
own life, and only wished to save Francisco, he was overjoyed to meet a
small schooner trading between the islands, bound to Port Royal. In that
vessel he obtained a passage for himself and the Kroumen, and had
arrived three days previous to the trial, and during that time had
remained concealed until the day that the Admiralty Court assembled.
It may be as well here to remark that Cain's reason for not wishing the
packet to be opened was, that among the other papers relative to
Francisco were directions for the recovery of the treasure which he had
concealed, and which, of course, he wished to be communicated to
Francisco alone.
We will leave the reader to imagine what passed between Francisco and
Edward after the discovery of their kindred, and proceed to state the
contents of the packet, which the twin-brothers now opened in the
presence of Clara alone.
We must, however, condense the matter, which was very voluminous. It
stated that Cain, whose real name was Charles Osborne, had sailed in a
fine schooner from Bilboa, for the coast of Africa, to procure a cargo
of slaves; and had been out about twenty-four hours when the crew
perceived a boat, apparently with no one in her, floating about a mile
ahead of them. The water was then smooth, and the vessel had but little
way. As soon as they came up with the boat, they lowered down their
skiff to examine her.
The men sent in the skiff soon returned, towing the boat alongside.
Lying at the bottom of the boat were found several men almost dead, and
reduced to skeletons, and in the stern-sheets a negro woman, with a
child at her breast, and a white female in the last state of exhaustion.
Osborne was then a gay and unprincipled man, but not a hardened villain
and murderer, as he afterwards became; he had compassion and feeling.
They were all taken on board the schooner: some recovered, others were
too much exhausted. Among those restored was Cecilia Templemore and the
infant, who at first had been considered quite dead; but the negro
woman, exhausted by the demands of her nursling and her privations,
expired as she was being removed from the boat. A goat, that fortunately
was on board, proved a substitute for the negress; and before Osborne
had arrived off the coast, the child had recovered its health and
vigour, and the mother her extreme beauty.
We must now pass over a considerable portion of the narrative. Osborne
was impetuous in his passions, and Cecilia Templemore became his victim.
He had, indeed, afterwards quieted her qualms of conscience by a
pretended marriage, when he arrived at the Brazils with his cargo of
human flesh. But that was little alleviation of her sufferings; she who
had been indulged in every luxury, who had been educated with the
greatest care, was now lost for ever, an outcast from the society to
which she could never hope to return, and associating with those she
both dreaded and despised. She passed her days and her nights in tears;
and had soon more cause for sorrow from the brutal treatment she
received from Osborne, who had been her destroyer. Her child was her
only solace; but for him, and the fear of leaving him to the
demoralising influence of those about him, she would have laid down and
died: but she lived for him--for him attempted to recall Osborne from
his career of increasing guilt--bore meekly with reproaches and with
blows. At last Osborne changed his nefarious life for one of deeper
guilt: he became a pirate, and still carried with him Cecilia and her
child.
This was the climax of her misery; she now wasted from day to day, and
grief would soon have terminated her existence, had it not been
hastened by the cruelty of Cain, who, upon an expostulation on her part,
followed up with a denunciation of the consequences of his guilty
career, struck her with such violence that she sank under the blow. She
expired with a prayer that her child might be rescued from a life of
guilt; and when the then repentant Cain promised what he never did
perform, she blessed him, too, before she died.
Such was the substance of the narrative, as far as it related to the
unfortunate mother of these two young men, who, when they had concluded,
sat hand-in-hand in mournful silence. This, however, was soon broken by
the innumerable questions asked by Edward of his brother, as to what he
could remember of their ill-fated parent, which were followed up by the
history of Francisco's eventful life.
'And the treasure, Edward,' said Francisco; 'I cannot take possession of
it.'
'No, nor shall you either,' replied Edward; 'it belongs to the captors,
and must be shared as prize-money. You will never touch one penny of it;
but I shall, I trust, pocket a very fair proportion of it! However, keep
this paper, as it is addressed to you.'
The admiral had been made acquainted with all the particulars of this
eventful trial, and had sent a message to Edward, requesting that, as
soon as he and his brother could make it convenient, he would be happy
to see them at the Penn, as well as the daughter of the Spanish
governor, whom he must consider as being under his protection during the
time that she remained at Port Royal. This offer was gladly accepted by
Clara; and on the second day after the trial they proceeded up to the
Penn. Clara and Francisco were introduced, and apartments and suitable
attendance provided for the former.
'Templemore,' said the admiral, 'I'm afraid I must send you away to
Porto Rico, to assure the governor of his daughter's safety.'
'I would rather you would send some one else, sir, and I'll assure her
happiness in the meantime.'
'What! by marrying her? Humph! you've a good opinion of yourself! Wait
till you're a captain, sir.'
'I hope I shall not have to wait long, sir,' replied Edward demurely.
[Illustration: _'Captain Templemore, I wish you joy!'_]
'By the bye,' said the admiral, 'did you not say you have notice of
treasure concealed in those islands?'
'My brother has: I have not.'
'We must send for it. I think we must send you, Edward. Mr. Francisco,
you must go with him.'
'With pleasure, sir,' replied Francisco, laughing; 'but I think I'd
rather wait till Edward is a captain! His wife and his fortune ought to
come together. I think I shall not deliver up my papers until the day of
his marriage!'
'Upon my word,' said Captain Manly, 'I wish, Templemore, you had your
commission, for there seems so much depending on it--the young lady's
happiness, my share of the prize-money, and the admiral's eighth.
Really, admiral, it becomes a common cause; and I'm sure he deserves
it!'
'So do I, Manly,' replied the admiral; 'and to prove that I have thought
so, here comes Mr. Hadley with it in his hand: it only wants one little
thing to complete it----'
'Which is your signature, admiral, I presume,' replied Captain Manly,
taking a pen full of ink, and presenting it to his senior officer.
'Exactly,' replied the admiral, scribbling at the bottom of the paper;
'and now--it does not want that. Captain Templemore, I wish you joy!'
Edward made a very low obeisance, as his flushed countenance indicated
his satisfaction.
'I cannot give commissions, admiral,' said Francisco, presenting a paper
in return; 'but I can give information--and you will find it not
unimportant--for the treasure appears of great value.'
'God bless my soul! Manly, you must start at daylight!' exclaimed the
admiral; 'why, there is enough to load your sloop! There!--read it!--and
then I will write your orders, and enclose a copy of it, for fear of
accident.'
'That was to have been my fortune,' said Francisco, with a grave smile;
'but I would not touch it.'
'Very right, boy!--a fine principle! But we are not quite so
particular,' said the admiral. 'Now, where's the young lady? Let her
know that dinner's on the table.'
A fortnight after this conversation, Captain Manly returned with the
treasure; and the _Enterprise_, commanded by another officer, returned
from Porto Rico, with a letter from the governor in reply to one from
the admiral, in which the rescue of his daughter by Edward had been
communicated. The letter was full of thanks to the admiral, and
compliments to Edward; and, what was of more importance, it sanctioned
the union of the young officer with his daughter, with a dozen boxes of
gold doubloons.
About six weeks after the above-mentioned important conversation, Mr.
Witherington, who had been reading a voluminous packet of letters in his
breakfast-room in Finsbury Square, pulled his bell so violently that old
Jonathan thought his master must be out of his senses. This, however,
did not induce him to accelerate his solemn and measured pace; and he
made his appearance at the door, as usual, without speaking.
'Why don't that fellow answer the bell?' cried Mr. Witherington.
'I am here, sir,' said Jonathan solemnly.
'Well, so you are! but, confound you! you come like the ghost of a
butler! But who do you think is coming here, Jonathan?'
'I cannot tell, sir.'
'But I can!--you solemn old----Edward's coming here!--coming home
directly!'
'Is he to sleep in his old room, sir?' replied the imperturbable butler.
'No; the best bedroom! Why, Jonathan, he is married--he is made a
captain--Captain Templemore!'
'Yes--sir.'
'And he has found his brother, Jonathan; his twin-brother!'
'Yes--sir.'
'His brother Francis--that was supposed to be lost! But it's a long
story, Jonathan!--and a very wonderful one!--his poor mother has long
been dead!'
'_In coelo quies!_' said Jonathan, casting up his eyes.
'But his brother has turned up again.'
'_Resurgam!_' said the butler.
'They will be here in ten days--so let everything be in readiness,
Jonathan. God bless my soul!' continued the old gentleman, 'I hardly
know what I'm about. It's a Spanish girl, Jonathan!'
[Illustration: 'Resurgam!' _said the butler._]
'What is, sir?'
'What is, sir!--why, Captain Templemore's wife; and he was tried as a
pirate!'
'Who, sir?'
'Who, sir? why, Francis, his brother! Jonathan, you're a stupid old
fellow!'
'Have you any further commands, sir?'
'No--no!--there--that'll do--go away.'
And in three weeks after this conversation, Captain and Mrs. Templemore,
and his brother Frank, were established in the house, to the great
delight of Mr. Witherington; for he had long been tired of solitude and
old Jonathan.
The twin-brothers were a comfort to him in his old age: they closed his
eyes in peace--they divided his blessing and his large fortune--and thus
ends our history of THE PIRATE!
THE THREE CUTTERS
CHAPTER I
CUTTER THE FIRST
Reader, have you ever been at Plymouth? If you have, your eye must have
dwelt with ecstasy upon the beautiful property of the Earl of Mount
Edgcumbe: if you have not been at Plymouth, the sooner that you go there
the better. At Mount Edgcumbe you will behold the finest timber in
existence, towering up to the summits of the hills, and feathering down
to the shingle on the beach. And from this lovely spot you will witness
one of the most splendid panoramas in the world. You will see--I hardly
know what you will not see--you will see Ram Head, and Cawsand Bay; and
then you will see the Breakwater, and Drake's Island, and the Devil's
Bridge below you; and the town of Plymouth and its fortifications, and
the Hoe; and then you will come to the Devil's Point, round which the
tide runs devilish strong; and then you will see the New Victualling
Office--about which Sir James Gordon used to stump all day, and take a
pinch of snuff from every man who carried a box, which all were
delighted to give, and he was delighted to receive, proving how much
pleasure may be communicated merely by a pinch of snuff; and then you
will see Mount Wise and Mutton Cove; the town of Devonport, with its
magnificent dockyard and arsenals, North Corner, and the way which leads
to Saltash. And you will see ships building and ships in ordinary; and
ships repairing and ships fitting; and hulks and convict ships, and the
guardship; ships ready to sail and ships under sail; besides lighters,
men-of-war's boats, dockyard-boats, bumboats, and shore-boats. In short,
there is a great deal to see at Plymouth besides the sea itself: but
what I particularly wish now is, that you will stand at the Battery of
Mount Edgcumbe and look into Barn Pool below you, and there you will
see, lying at single anchor, a cutter; and you may also see, by her
pendant and ensign, that she is a yacht.
Of all the amusements entered into by the nobility and gentry of our
island there is not one so manly, so exciting, so patriotic, or so
national as yacht-sailing. It is peculiar to England, not only from our
insular position and our fine harbours, but because it requires a
certain degree of energy and a certain amount of income rarely to be
found elsewhere. It has been wisely fostered by our sovereigns, who have
felt that the security of the kingdom is increased by every man being
more or less a sailor, or connected with the nautical profession. It is
an amusement of the greatest importance to the country, as it has much
improved our ship-building and our ship-fitting, while it affords
employment to our seamen and shipwrights. But if I were to say all that
I could say in praise of yachts, I should never advance with my
narrative. I shall therefore drink a bumper to the health of Admiral
Lord Yarborough and the Yacht Club, and proceed.
You observe that this yacht is cutter-rigged, and that she sits
gracefully on the smooth water. She is just heaving up her anchor; her
foresail is loose, all ready to cast her--in a few minutes she will be
under way. You see that there are ladies sitting at the taffrail; and
there are five haunches of venison hanging over the stern. Of all
amusements, give me yachting. But we must go on board. The deck, you
observe, is of narrow deal planks as white as snow; the guns are of
polished brass; the bitts and binnacles of mahogany; she is painted with
taste; and all the mouldings are gilded. There is nothing wanting; and
yet how clear and unencumbered are her decks! Let us go below. This is
the ladies' cabin: can anything be more tasteful or elegant? is it not
luxurious? and, although so small, does not its very confined space
astonish you, when you view so many comforts so beautifully arranged?
This is the dining-room, and where the gentlemen repair. What can be
more complete or _recherche_? And just peep into their state-rooms and
bed-places. Here is the steward's room and the beaufet: the steward is
squeezing lemons for the punch, and there is the champagne in ice; and
by the side of the pail the long corks are ranged up, all ready. Now,
let us go forwards: here are the men's berths, not confined as in a
man-of-war. No; luxury starts from abaft, and is not wholly lost even at
the fore-peak. This is the kitchen: is it not admirably arranged? What a
_multum in parvo_! And how delightful are the fumes of the turtle-soup!
At sea we do meet with rough weather at times; but, for roughing it out,
give me a _yacht_. Now that I have shown you round the vessel, I must
introduce the parties on board.
You observe that florid, handsome man, in white trousers and blue
jacket, who has a telescope in one hand, and is sipping a glass of
brandy and water which he has just taken off the skylight. That is the
owner of the vessel, and a member of the Yacht Club. It is Lord B----:
he looks like a sailor, and he does not much belie his looks; yet I have
seen him in his robes of state at the opening of the House of Lords. The
one near to him is Mr. Stewart, a lieutenant in the navy. He holds on by
the rigging with one hand, because, having been actively employed all
his life, he does not know what to do with hands which have nothing in
them. He is a _protege_ of Lord B., and is now on board as
sailing-master of the yacht.
That handsome, well-built man, who is standing by the binnacle, is a Mr.
Hautaine. He served six years as midshipman in the navy, and did not
like it. He then served six years in a cavalry regiment, and did not
like it. He then married, and in a much shorter probation found that he
did not like that. But he is very fond of yachts and other men's wives,
if he does not like his own; and wherever he goes, he is welcome.
That young man with an embroidered silk waistcoat and white gloves,
bending to talk to one of the ladies, is a Mr. Vaughan. He is to be seen
at Almack's, at Crockford's, and everywhere else. Everybody knows him,
and he knows everybody. He is a little in debt, and yachting is
convenient.
The one who sits by the lady is a relation of Lord B.; you see at once
what he is. He apes the sailor; he has not shaved, because sailors have
no time to shave every day; he has not changed his linen, because
sailors cannot change every day. He has a cigar in his mouth, which
makes him half sick and annoys his company. He talks of the pleasure of
a rough sea, which will drive all the ladies below--and then they will
not perceive that he is more sick than themselves. He has the misfortune
to be born to a large estate, and to be a _fool_. His name is Ossulton.
[Illustration: _The ladies._]
The last of the gentlemen on board whom I have to introduce is Mr.
Seagrove. He is slightly made, with marked features full of
intelligence. He has been brought up to the bar; and has every
qualification but application. He has never had a brief, nor has he a
chance of one. He is the fiddler of the company, and he has locked up
his chambers and come, by invitation of his lordship, to play on board
of his yacht.
I have yet to describe the ladies--perhaps I should have commenced with
them--I must excuse myself upon the principle of reserving the best to
the last. All puppet-showmen do so; and what is this but the first scene
in my puppet-show?
We will describe them according to seniority. That tall, thin,
cross-looking lady of forty-five is a spinster, and sister to Lord B.
She had been persuaded, very much against her will, to come on board;
but her notions of propriety would not permit her niece to embark under
the protection of _only_ her father. She is frightened at everything: if
a rope is thrown down on the deck, up she starts, and cries 'Oh!' if on
the deck, she thinks the water is rushing in below; if down below, and
there is a noise, she is convinced there is danger; and if it be
perfectly still, she is sure there is something wrong. She fidgets
herself and everybody, and is quite a nuisance with her pride and
ill-humour; but she has strict notions of propriety, and sacrifices
herself as a martyr. She is the Hon. Miss Ossulton.
The lady who, when she smiles, shows so many dimples in her pretty oval
face, is a young widow, of the name of Lascelles. She married an old man
to please her father and mother, which was very dutiful on her part. She
was rewarded by finding herself a widow with a large fortune. Having
married the first time to please her parents, she intends now to marry
to please herself; but she is very young, and is in no hurry.
That young lady with such a sweet expression of countenance is the Hon.
Miss Cecilia Ossulton. She is lively, witty, and has no fear in her
composition; but she is very young yet, not more than seventeen--and
nobody knows what she really is--she does not know herself. These are
the parties who meet in the cabin of the yacht. The crew consists of ten
fine seamen, the steward and the cook. There is also Lord B.'s valet,
Mr. Ossulton's gentleman, and the lady's-maid of Miss Ossulton. There
not being accommodation for them, the other servants have been left on
shore.
[Illustration: _The Hon. Miss Cecilia Ossulton._]
The yacht is now under way, and her sails are all set. She is running
between Drake's Island and the main. Dinner has been announced. As the
reader has learnt something about the preparations, I leave him to judge
whether it be not very pleasant to sit down to dinner in a yacht. The
air has given everybody an appetite; and it was not until the cloth was
removed that the conversation became general.
'Mr. Seagrove,' said his lordship, 'you very nearly lost your passage; I
expected you last Thursday.'
'I am sorry, my lord, that business prevented my sooner attending to
your lordship's kind summons.'
'Come, Seagrove, don't be nonsensical,' said Hautaine; 'you told me
yourself, the other evening, when you were talkative, that you had never
had a brief in your life.'
'And a very fortunate circumstance,' replied Seagrove; 'for if I had had
a brief I should not have known what to have done with it. It is not my
fault; I am fit for nothing but a commissioner. But still I had
business, and very important business, too. I was summoned by Ponsonby
to go with him to Tattersall's, to give my opinion about a horse he
wishes to purchase, and then to attend him to Forest Wild to plead his
cause with his uncle.'
'It appears, then, that you were retained,' replied Lord B.; 'may I ask
you whether your friend gained his cause?'
'No, my lord, he lost his cause, but he gained a suit.'
'Expound your riddle, sir,' said Cecilia Ossulton.
'The fact is, that old Ponsonby is very anxious that William should
marry Miss Percival, whose estates join on to Forest Wild. Now, my
friend William is about as fond of marriage as I am of law, and thereby
issue was joined.'
'But why were you to be called in?' inquired Mrs. Lascelles.
'Because, madam, as Ponsonby never buys a horse without consulting
me----'
'I cannot see the analogy, sir,' observed Miss Ossulton, senior,
bridling up.
'Pardon me, madam: the fact is,' continued Seagrove, 'that, as I always
have to back Ponsonby's horses, he thought it right that, in this
instance, I should back him: he required special pleading, but his uncle
tried him for the capital offence, and he was not allowed counsel. As
soon as we arrived, and I had bowed myself into the room, Mr. Ponsonby
bowed me out again--which would have been infinitely more jarring to my
feelings, had not the door been left ajar.'
'Do anything but pun, Seagrove,' interrupted Hautaine.
'Well then, I will take a glass of wine.'
'Do so,' said his lordship; 'but recollect the whole company are
impatient for your story.'
'I can assure you, my lord, that it was equal to any scene in a comedy.'
Now be it observed that Mr. Seagrove had a great deal of comic talent;
he was an excellent mimic, and could alter his voice almost as he
pleased. It was a custom of his to act a scene as between other people,
and he performed it remarkably well. Whenever he said that anything he
was going to narrate was 'as good as a comedy,' it was generally
understood by those who were acquainted with him that he was to be asked
so to do. Cecilia Ossulton therefore immediately said, 'Pray act it, Mr.
Seagrove.'
Upon which, Mr. Seagrove--premising that he had not only heard but also
seen all that passed--changing his voice, and suiting the action to the
word, commenced.
'It may,' said he, 'be called
"FIVE THOUSAND ACRES IN A RING-FENCE"'
We shall not describe Mr. Seagrove's motions; they must be inferred from
his words.
'"It will then, William," observed Mr. Ponsonby, stopping, and turning
to his nephew, after a rapid walk up and down the room with his hands
behind him under his coat, so as to allow the tails to drop their
perpendicular about three inches clear of his body, "I may say, without
contradiction, be the finest property in the county--five thousand acres
in a ring-fence."
'"I daresay it will, uncle," replied William, tapping his foot, as he
lounged in a green morocco easy-chair; "and so, because you have set
your fancy upon having these two estates enclosed together in a
ring-fence, you wish that I should be also enclosed in a _ring_-fence."
'"And a beautiful property it will be," replied Mr. Ponsonby.
'"Which, uncle? the estate or the wife?"
'"Both, nephew, both; and I expect your consent."
'"Uncle, I am not avaricious. Your present property is sufficient for
me. With your permission, instead of doubling the property, and doubling
myself, I will remain your sole heir and single."
'"Observe, William, such an opportunity may not occur again for
centuries. We shall restore Forest Wild to its ancient boundaries. You
know it has been divided nearly two hundred years. We now have a
glorious, golden opportunity of reuniting the two properties; and when
joined, the estate will be exactly what it was when granted to our
ancestors by Henry VIII., at the period of the Reformation. This house
must be pulled down, and the monastery left standing. Then we shall have
our own again, and the property without encumbrance."
'"Without encumbrance, uncle! You forget that there will be a wife."
'"And you forget that there will be five thousand acres in a
ring-fence."
'"Indeed, uncle, you ring it too often in my ears that I should forget
it. But, much as I should like to be the happy possessor of such a
property, I do not feel inclined to be the happy possessor of Miss
Percival; and the more so, as I have never seen the property."
'"We will ride over it to-morrow, William."
'"Ride over Miss Percival, uncle! That will not be very gallant. I will,
however, one of these days ride over the property with you, which, as
well as Miss Percival, I have not as yet seen."
'"Then I can tell you she is a very pretty property."
'"If she were not in a ring-fence."
'"In good heart, William. That is, I mean an excellent disposition."
'"Valuable in matrimony."
'"And well tilled--I should say well educated--by her three maiden
aunts, who are the patterns of propriety."
'"Does any one follow the fashion?"
"In a high state of cultivation; that is, her mind highly cultivated,
and according to the last new system--what is it?"
'"A four-course shift, I presume," replied William, laughing; "that is,
dancing, singing, music, and drawing."
'"And only seventeen! Capital soil, promising good crops. What would you
have more?"
"A very pretty estate, uncle, if it were not the estate of matrimony. I
am sorry, very sorry, to disappoint you; but I must decline taking a
lease of it for life."
'"Then, sir, allow me to hint to you that in my testament you are only a
tenant-at-will. I consider it a duty that I owe to the family that the
estate should be re-united. That can only be done by one of our family
marrying Miss Percival; and as you will not, I shall now write to your
cousin James, and if he accept my proposal, shall make _him_ my heir.
Probably he will more fully appreciate the advantages of five thousand
acres in a ring-fence."
'And Mr. Ponsonby directed his steps towards the door.
'"Stop, my dear uncle," cried William, rising up from his easy-chair;
"we do not quite understand one another. It is very true that I would
prefer half the property and remaining single, to the two estates and
the estate of marriage; but at the same time I did not tell you that I
would prefer beggary to a wife and five thousand acres in a ring-fence.
I know you to be a man of your word. I accept your proposal, and you
need not put my cousin James to the expense of postage."
'"Very good, William; I require no more: and as I know you to be a man
of your word, I shall consider this match as settled. It was on this
account only that I sent for you, and now you may go back again as soon
as you please. I will let you know when all is ready."
"I must be at Tattersall's on Monday, uncle; there is a horse I must
have for next season. Pray, uncle, may I ask when you are likely to want
me?"
'"Let me see--this is May--about July, I should think."
"July, uncle! Spare me--I cannot marry in the dog-days. No, hang it! not
July."
'"Well, William, perhaps, as you must come down once or twice to see
the property--Miss Percival, I should say--it may be too soon--suppose
we put it off till October?"
'"October--I shall be down at Melton."
'"Pray, sir, may I then inquire what portion of the year is not, with
you, _dog_-days?"
'"Why, uncle, next April, now--I think that would do."
'"Next April! Eleven months, and a winter between. Suppose Miss Percival
was to take a cold and die."
'"I should be excessively obliged to her," thought William.
'"No, no!" continued Mr. Ponsonby: "there is nothing certain in this
world, William."
'"Well then, uncle, suppose we arrange it for the first _hard frost_."
'"We have had no hard frosts lately, William. We may wait for years. The
sooner it is over the better. Go back to town, buy your horse, and then
come down here, my dear William, to oblige your uncle--never mind the
dog-days."
'"Well, sir, if I am to make a sacrifice, it shall not be done by
halves; out of respect for you I will even marry in July, without any
regard to the thermometer."
'"You are a good boy, William. Do you want a cheque?"
'"I have had one to-day," thought William, and was almost at fault. "I
shall be most thankful, sir--they sell horseflesh by the ounce
nowadays."
'"And you pay in pounds. There, William."
'"Thank you, sir, I'm all obedience; and I'll keep my word, even if
there should be a comet. I'll go and buy the horse, and then I shall be
ready to take the ring-fence as soon as you please."
'"Yes, and you'll get over it cleverly, I've no doubt. Five thousand
acres, William, and--a pretty wife!"
'"Have you any further commands, uncle?" said William, depositing the
cheque in his pocket-book.
'"None, my dear boy; are you going?"
'"Yes, sir; I dine at the Clarendon."
'"Well, then, good-bye. Make my compliments and excuses to your friend
Seagrove. You will come on Tuesday or Wednesday."
'Thus was concluded the marriage between William Ponsonby and Emily
Percival, and the junction of the two estates, which formed together
the great desideratum--_five thousand acres in a ring-fence_.'
Mr. Seagrove finished, and he looked round for approbation.
'Very good indeed, Seagrove,' said his lordship; 'you must take a glass
of wine after that.'
'I would not give much for Miss Percival's chance of happiness,'
observed the elder Miss Ossulton.
'Of two evils choose the least, they say,' observed Mr. Hautaine. 'Poor
Ponsonby could not help himself.'
'That's a very polite observation of yours, Mr. Hautaine--I thank you in
the name of the sex,' replied Cecilia Ossulton.
'Nay, Miss Ossulton; would you like to marry a person whom you never
saw?'
'Most certainly not; but when you mentioned the two evils, Mr. Hautaine,
I appeal to your honour, did you not refer to marriage or beggary?'
'I must confess it, Miss Ossulton; but it is hardly fair to call on my
honour to get me into a scrape.'
'I only wish that the offer had been made to me,' observed Vaughan; 'I
should not have hesitated as Ponsonby did.'
'Then I beg you will not think of proposing for me,' said Mrs.
Lascelles, laughing; for Mr. Vaughan had been excessively attentive.
'It appears to me, Vaughan,' observed Seagrove, 'that you have slightly
committed yourself by that remark.'
Vaughan, who thought so too, replied, 'Mrs. Lascelles must be aware that
I was only joking.'
'Fie! Mr. Vaughan,' cried Cecilia Ossulton; 'you know it came from your
heart.'
'My dear Cecilia,' said the elder Miss Ossulton, 'you forget
yourself--what can you possibly know about gentlemen's hearts?'
'The Bible says that they are "deceitful and desperately wicked," aunt.'
'And cannot we also quote the Bible against your sex, Miss Ossulton?'
replied Seagrove.
'Yes, you could, perhaps, if any of you had ever read it,' replied Miss
Ossulton carelessly.
'Upon my word, Cissy, you are throwing the gauntlet down to the
gentlemen,' observed Lord B.; 'but I shall throw my warder down, and not
permit this combat _a l'outrance_. I perceive you drink no more wine,
gentlemen; we will take our coffee on deck.'
[Illustration: _'Fie! Mr. Vaughan, cried Cecilia Ossulton; 'you know it
came from your heart.'_]
'We were just about to retire, my lord,' observed the elder Miss
Ossulton, with great asperity; 'I have been trying to catch the eye of
Mrs. Lascelles for some time, but----'
'I was looking another way, I presume,' interrupted Mrs. Lascelles,
smiling.
'I am afraid that I am the unfortunate culprit,' said Mr. Seagrove. 'I
was telling a little anecdote to Mrs. Lascelles----'
'Which, of course, from its being communicated in an undertone, was not
proper for all the company to hear,' replied the elder Miss Ossulton;
'but if Mrs. Lascelles is now ready----' continued she, bridling up, as
she rose from her chair.
'At all events, I can hear the remainder of it on deck,' replied Mrs.
Lascelles. The ladies rose and went into the cabin, Cecilia and Mrs.
Lascelles exchanging very significant smiles as they followed the
precise spinster, who did not choose that Mrs. Lascelles should take the
lead merely because she had once happened to have been married. The
gentlemen also broke up, and went on deck.
'We have a nice breeze now, my lord,' observed Mr. Stewart, who had
remained on deck, 'and we lie right up Channel.'
'So much the better,' replied his lordship; 'we ought to have been
anchored at Cowes a week ago. They will all be there before us.'
'Tell Mr. Simpson to bring me a light for my cigar,' said Mr. Ossulton
to one of the men.
Mr. Stewart went down to his dinner; the ladies and the coffee came on
deck; the breeze was fine, the weather (it was April) almost warm; and
the yacht, whose name was the _Arrow_, assisted by the tide, soon left
the Mewstone far astern.
CHAPTER II
CUTTER THE SECOND
Reader, have you ever been at Portsmouth? If you have, you must have
been delighted with the view from the saluting battery; and if you have
not, you had better go there as soon as you can. From the saluting
battery you may look up the harbour, and see much of what I have
described at Plymouth; the scenery is different, but similar arsenals
and dockyards, and an equal portion of our stupendous navy, are to be
found there; and you will see Gosport on the other side of the harbour,
and Sallyport close to you; besides a great many other places, which
from the saluting battery you cannot see. And then there is Southsea
Beach to your left. Before you, Spithead, with the men-of-war, and the
Motherbank crowded with merchant vessels; and there is the buoy where
the _Royal George_ was wrecked and where she still lies, the fish
swimming in and out of her cabin windows; but that is not all; you can
also see the Isle of Wight--Ryde with its long-wooden pier, and Cowes,
where the yachts lie. In fact, there is a great deal to be seen at
Portsmouth as well as at Plymouth; but what I wish you particularly to
see just how is a vessel holding fast to the buoy just off the saluting
battery. She is a cutter; and you may know that she belongs to the
Preventive Service by the number of gigs and galleys which she has
hoisted up all round her. She looks like a vessel that was about to sail
with a cargo of boats; two on deck, one astern, one on each side of her.
You observe that she is painted black, and all her boats are white. She
is not such an elegant vessel as the yacht, and she is much more
lumbered up. She has no haunches of venison hanging over the stern, but
I think there is a leg of mutton and some cabbages hanging by their
stalks. But revenue cutters are not yachts. You will find no turtle or
champagne; but, nevertheless, you will, perhaps, find a joint to carve
at, a good glass of grog, and a hearty welcome.
Let us go on board. You observe the guns are iron, and painted black,
and her bulwarks are painted red; it is not a very becoming colour, but
then it lasts a long while, and the dockyard is not very generous on the
score of paint--or lieutenants of the navy troubled with much spare
cash. She has plenty of men, and fine men they are; all dressed in red
flannel shirts and blue trousers; some of them have not taken off their
canvas or tarpaulin petticoats, which are very useful to them, as they
are in the boats night and day, and in all weathers. But we will at once
go down into the cabin, where we shall find the lieutenant who commands
her, a master's mate, and a midshipman. They have each their tumbler
before them, and are drinking gin-toddy, hot, with sugar--capital gin,
too, 'bove proof; it is from that small anker standing under the table.
It was one that they forgot to return to the custom-house when they made
their last seizure. We must introduce them.
The elderly personage, with grizzly hair and whiskers, a round pale
face, and a somewhat red nose (being too much in the wind will make the
nose red, and this old officer is very often 'in the wind,' of course,
from the very nature of his profession), is a Lieutenant Appleboy. He
has served in every class of vessel in the service, and done the duty of
first lieutenant for twenty years; he is now on promotion--that is to
say, after he has taken a certain number of tubs of gin, he will be
rewarded with his rank as commander. It is a pity that what he takes
inside of him does not count, for he takes it morning, noon, and night.
He is just filling his fourteenth glass: he always keeps a regular
account, as he never exceeds his limited number, which is seventeen;
then he is exactly down to his bearings.
The master's mate's name is Tomkins; he has served his six years three
times over, and has now outgrown his ambition; which is fortunate for
him, as his chances of promotion are small. He prefers a small vessel to
a large one, because he is not obliged to be so particular in his
dress--and looks for his lieutenancy whenever there shall be another
charity promotion. He is fond of soft bread, for his teeth are all
absent without leave; he prefers porter to any other liquor, but he can
drink his glass of grog, whether it be based upon rum, brandy, or the
liquor now before him.
[Illustration: _Lieutenant Appleboy._]
Mr. Smith is the name of that young gentleman whose jacket is so out at
the elbows; he has been intending to mend it these last two months, but
is too lazy to go to his chest for another. He has been turned out of
half the ships in the service for laziness; but he was born so--and
therefore it is not his fault. A revenue cutter suits him, she is half
her time hove-to; and he has no objection to boat-service, as he sits
down always in the stern-sheets, which is not fatiguing. Creeping for
tubs is his delight, as he gets over so little ground. He is fond of
grog, but there is some trouble in carrying the tumbler so often to his
mouth; so he looks at it, and lets it stand. He says little because he
is too lazy to speak. He has served more than _eight years_; but as for
passing--it has never come into his head. Such are the three persons who
are now sitting in the cabin of the revenue cutter, drinking hot
gin-toddy.
'Let me see, it was, I think, in ninety-three or ninety-four. Before you
were in the service, Tomkins----'
'Maybe, sir; it's so long ago since I entered, that I can't recollect
dates--but this I know, that my aunt died three days before.'
'Then the question is, When did your aunt die?'
'Oh! she died about a year after my uncle.'
'And when did your uncle die?'
'I'll be hanged if I know!'
'Then, d'ye see, you've no departure to work from. However, I think you
cannot have been in the service at that time. We were not quite so
particular about uniform as we are now.'
'Then I think the service was all the better for it. Nowadays, in your
crack ships, a mate has to go down in the hold or spirit-room, and after
whipping up fifty empty casks, and breaking out twenty full ones, he is
expected to come on quarter-deck as clean as if he was just come out of
a bandbox.'
'Well, there's plenty of water alongside, as far as the outward man
goes, and iron dust is soon brushed off. However, as you say, perhaps a
little too much is expected; at least, in five of the ships in which I
was first lieutenant, the captain was always hauling me over the coals
about the midshipmen not dressing properly, as if I was their dry-nurse.
I wonder what Captain Prigg would have said if he had seen such a
turn-out as you, Mr. Smith, on his quarter-deck.'
'I should have had one turn-out more,' drawled Smith.
'With your out-at-elbows jacket, there, eh!' continued Mr. Appleboy.
Smith turned up his elbows, looked at one and then at the other; after
so fatiguing an operation, he was silent.
'Well, where was I? Oh! it was about ninety-three or ninety-four, as I
said, that it happened--Tomkins, fill your glass and hand me the
sugar--how do I get on? This is No 15,' said Appleboy, counting some
white lines on the table by him; and taking up a piece of chalk, he
marked one more line on his tally. 'I don't think this is so good a tub
as the last, Tomkins, there's a twang about it--a want of juniper;
however, I hope we shall have better luck this time. Of course you know
we sail to-morrow?'
'I presume so, by the leg of mutton coming on board.'
'True--true; I'm regular--as clockwork. After being twenty years a first
lieutenant one gets a little method. I like regularity. Now the admiral
has never omitted asking me to dinner once, every time I have come into
harbour, except this time. I was so certain of it, that I never expected
to sail; and I have but two shirts clean in consequence.'
'That's odd, isn't it?--and the more so, because he has had such great
people down here, and has been giving large parties every day.'
'And yet I made three seizures, besides sweeping up those thirty-seven
tubs.'
'I swept them up,' observed Smith.
'That's all the same thing, younker. When you've been a little longer in
the service, you'll find out that the commanding officer has the merit
of all that is done; but you're _green_ yet. Let me see, where was I?
Oh! it was about ninety-three or ninety-four, as I said. At that time I
was in the Channel fleet----Tomkins, I'll trouble you for the hot water;
this water's cold. Mr. Smith, do me the favour to ring the bell. Jem,
some more hot water.'
'Please, sir,' said Jem, who was barefooted as well as bareheaded,
touching the lock of hair on his forehead, 'the cook has capsized the
kettle--but he has put more on.'
'Capsized the kettle! Hah!--very well--we'll talk about that to-morrow.
Mr. Tomkins, do me the favour to put him in the report: I may forget it.
And pray, sir, how long is it since he has put more on?'
'Just this moment, sir, as I came aft.'
'Very well, we'll see to that to-morrow. You bring the kettle aft as
soon as it is ready. I say, Mr. Jem, is that fellow sober?'
'Yees, sir, he be sober as you be.'
'It's quite astonishing what a propensity the common sailors have to
liquor. Forty odd years have I been in the service, and I've never found
any difference. I only wish I had a guinea for every time that I have
given a fellow seven-water grog during my servitude as first lieutenant,
I wouldn't call the king my cousin. Well, if there's no hot water, we
must take lukewarm; it won't do to heave-to. By the Lord Harry!
who would have thought it?--I'm at number sixteen! Let me
count--yes!--surely I must have made a mistake. A fact, by Heaven!'
continued Mr. Appleboy, throwing the chalk down on the table. 'Only one
more glass after this; that is, if I have counted right--I may have seen
double.'
'Yes,' drawled Smith.
'Well, never mind. Let's go on with my story. It was either in the year
ninety-three or ninety-four that I was in the Channel fleet; we were
then abreast of Torbay----'
'Here be the hot water, sir,' cried Jem, putting the kettle down on the
deck.
'Very well, boy. By the bye, has the jar of butter come on board?'
'Yes, but it broke all down the middle. I tied him up with a rope-yarn.'
'Who broke it, sir?'
'Coxswain says as how he didn't.'
'But who did, sir?'
'Coxswain handed it up to Bill Jones, and he says as how he didn't.'
'But who did, sir?'
'Bill Jones gave it to me, and I'm sure as how I didn't.'
'Then who did, sir, I ask you?'
'I think it be Bill Jones, sir, 'cause he's fond of butter, I know, and
there be very little left in the jar.'
'Very well, we'll see to that to-morrow morning. Mr. Tomkins, you'll
oblige me by putting the butter-jar down in the report, in case it
should slip my memory. Bill Jones, indeed, looks as if butter wouldn't
melt in his mouth. Never mind. Well, it was, as I said before--it was in
the year ninety-three or ninety-four, when I was in the Channel fleet;
we were then off Torbay, and had just taken two reefs in the topsails.
Stop--before I go on with my story, I'll take my last glass; I think
it's the last--let me count. Yes, by heavens! I make out sixteen, well
told. Never mind, it shall be a stiff one. Boy, bring the kettle, and
mind you don't pour the hot water into my shoes, as you did the other
night. There, that will do. Now, Tomkins, fill up yours; and you, Mr.
Smith. Let us all start fair, and then you shall have my story--and a
very curious one it is, I can tell you; I wouldn't have believed it
myself, if I hadn't seen it. Hilloa! what's this? Confound it! what's
the matter with the toddy? Heh, Mr. Tomkins?'
Mr. Tomkins tasted; but, like the lieutenant, he had made it very stiff;
and, as he had also taken largely before, he was, like him, not quite so
clear in his discrimination. 'It has a queer twang, sir; Smith, what is
it?'
Smith took up his glass, tasted the contents.
'_Salt water_,' drawled the midshipman.
'Salt water! so it is, by heavens!' cried Mr. Appleboy.
'Salt as Lot's wife! by all that's infamous!' cried the master's mate.
'Salt water, sir!' cried Jem in a fright, expecting a _salt_ eel for
supper.
'Yes, sir,' replied Mr. Appleboy, tossing the contents of the tumbler in
the boy's face, 'salt water. Very well, sir--very well!'
'It warn't me, sir,' replied the boy, making up a piteous look.
'No, sir, but you said the cook was sober.'
'He was not so _very_ much disguised, sir,' replied Jem.
'Oh! very well--never mind. Mr. Tomkins, in case I should forget it, do
me the favour to put the kettle of salt water down in the report. The
scoundrel! I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but there's no means of having any
more gin-toddy. But never mind, we'll see to this to-morrow. Two can
play at this; and if I don't salt-water their grog, and make them drink
it too, I have been twenty years a first lieutenant for nothing, that's
all. Good-night, gentlemen; and,' continued the lieutenant, in a severe
tone, 'you'll keep a sharp look-out, Mr. Smith--do you hear, sir?'
[Illustration: _'Salt water, sir!' cried Jem. 'Yes, sir,' replied Mr.
Appleboy, tossing the contents of the tumbler in the boy's face._]
'Yes,' drawled Smith, 'but it's not my watch; it was my first watch; and
just now it struck one bell.'
'You'll keep the middle watch, then, Mr. Smith,' said Mr. Appleboy, who
was not a little put out; 'and, Mr. Tomkins, let me know as soon as it's
daylight. Boy, get my bed made. Salt water, by all that's blue! However,
we'll see to that to-morrow morning.'
Mr. Appleboy then turned in; so did Mr. Tomkins; and so did Mr. Smith,
who had no idea of keeping the middle watch because the cook was drunk
and had filled up the kettle with salt water. As for what happened in
ninety-three or ninety-four, I really would inform the reader if I knew;
but I am afraid that that most curious story is never to be handed down
to posterity.
The next morning Mr. Tomkins, as usual, forgot to report the cook, the
jar of butter, and the kettle of salt water; and Mr. Appleboy's wrath
had long been appeased before he remembered them. At daylight, the
lieutenant came on deck, having only slept away half of the sixteen, and
a taste of the seventeenth salt-water glass of gin-toddy. He rubbed his
gray eyes, that he might peer through the gray of the morning; the fresh
breeze blew about his grizzly locks, and cooled his rubicund nose. The
revenue cutter, whose name was the _Active_, cast off from the buoy,
and, with a fresh breeze, steered her course for the Needles passage.
CHAPTER III
CUTTER THE THIRD
Reader! have you been to St. Maloes? If you have, you were glad enough
to leave the hole; and if you have not, take my advice, and do not give
yourself the trouble to go and see that or any other French port in the
Channel. There is not one worth looking at. They have made one or two
artificial ports, and they are no great things; there is no getting out
or getting in. In fact, they have no harbours in the Channel, while we
have the finest in the world; a peculiar dispensation of Providence,
because it knew that we should want them, and France would not. In
France, what are called ports are all alike--nasty, narrow holes, only
to be entered at certain times of tide and certain winds; made up of
basins and back-waters, custom-houses and cabarets; just fit for
smugglers to run into, and nothing more; and, therefore, they are used
for very little else.
Now, in the dog-hole called St. Maloes there is some pretty land,
although a great deficiency of marine scenery. But never mind that. Stay
at home, and don't go abroad to drink sour wine, because they call it
Bordeaux, and eat villainous trash, so disguised by cooking that you
cannot possibly tell which of the birds of the air, or beasts of the
field, or fishes of the sea, you are cramming down your throat. 'If all
is right, there is no occasion for disguise,' is an old saying; so
depend upon it that there is something wrong, and that you are eating
offal, under a grand French name. They eat everything in France, and
would serve you up the head of a monkey who has died of the smallpox, as
_singe au petite verole_--that is, if you did not understand French; if
you did, they would call it _tete d'amour a l'Ethiopique_, and then you
would be even more puzzled. As for their wine, there is no disguise in
that; it's half vinegar. No, no! stay at home; you can live just as
cheaply, if you choose; and then you will have good meat, good
vegetables, good ale, good beer, and a good glass of grog; and, what is
of more importance, you will be in good company. Live with your friends,
and don't make a fool of yourself.
I would not have condescended to have noticed this place, had it not
been that I wish you to observe a vessel which is lying along the
pier-wharf, with a plank from the shore to her gunwale. It is low water,
and she is aground, and the plank dips down at such an angle that it is
a work of danger to go either in or out of her. You observe that there
is nothing very remarkable in her. She is a cutter, and a good sea-boat,
and sails well before the wind. She is short for her breadth of beam,
and is not armed. Smugglers do not arm now--the service is too
dangerous; they effect their purpose by cunning, not by force.
Nevertheless, it requires that smugglers should be good seamen, smart,
active fellows, and keen-witted, or they can do nothing. This vessel has
not a large cargo in her, but it is valuable. She has some thousand
yards of lace, a few hundred pounds of tea, a few bales of silk, and
about forty ankers of brandy--just as much as they can land in one boat.
All they ask is a heavy gale or a thick fog, and they trust to
themselves for success.
There is nobody on board except a boy; the crew are all up at the
cabaret, settling their little accounts of every description--for they
smuggle both ways, and every man has his own private venture. There they
are all, fifteen of them, and fine-looking fellows, too, sitting at that
long table. They are very merry, but quite sober, as they are to sail
to-night.
[Illustration: _The captain of the_ Happy-go-lucky, _Jack Pickersgill._]
The captain of the vessel (whose name, by the bye, is the
_Happy-go-lucky_--the captain christened her himself) is that
fine-looking young man, with dark whiskers meeting under his throat. His
name is Jack Pickersgill. You perceive at once that he is much above a
common sailor in appearance. His manners are good, he is remarkably
handsome, very clean, and rather a dandy in his dress. Observe how very
politely he takes off his hat to that Frenchman, with whom he has just
settled accounts; he beats Johnny Crapeau at his own weapons. And then
there is an air of command, a feeling of conscious superiority, about
Jack; see how he treats the landlord, _de haut en bas_, at the same time
that he is very civil. The fact is, that Jack is of a very good old
family, and received a very excellent education; but he was an orphan,
his friends were poor, and could do but little for him; he went out to
India as a cadet, ran away, and served in a schooner which smuggled
opium into China, and then came home. He took a liking to the
employment, and is now laying up a very pretty little sum: not that he
intends to stop: no, as soon as he has enough to fit out a vessel for
himself, he intends to start again for India, and with two cargoes of
opium he will return, he trusts, with a handsome fortune, and reassume
his family name. Such are Jack's intentions; and, as he eventually means
to reappear as a gentleman, he preserves his gentlemanly habits; he
neither drinks, nor chews, nor smokes. He keeps his hands clean, wears
rings, and sports a gold snuff-box; notwithstanding which, Jack is one
of the boldest and best of sailors, and the men know it. He is full of
fun, and as keen as a razor. Jack has a very heavy venture this
time--all the lace is his own speculation, and if he gets it in safe, he
will clear some thousands of pounds. A certain fashionable shop in
London has already agreed to take the whole off his hands.
That short, neatly-made young man is the second in command, and the
companion of the captain. He is clever, and always has a remedy to
propose when there is a difficulty, which is a great quality in a second
in command. His name is Corbett. He is always merry--half-sailor,
half-tradesman; knows the markets, runs up to London, and does business
as well as a chapman--lives for the day and laughs at to-morrow.
That little punchy old man, with long gray hair and fat face, with a
nose like a note of interrogation, is the next personage of importance.
He ought to be called the sailing-master, for, although he goes on shore
in France, off the English coast he never quits the vessel. When they
leave her with the goods, he remains on board; he is always to be found
off any part of the coast where he may be ordered; holding his position
in defiance of gales, and tides, and fogs: as for the revenue vessels,
they all know him well enough, but they cannot touch a vessel in
ballast, if she has no more men on board than allowed by her tonnage. He
knows every creek, and hole, and corner of the coast; how the tide runs
in--tide, half-tide, eddy, or current. That is his value. His name is
Morrison.
You observe that Jack Pickersgill has two excellent supporters in
Corbett and Morrison; his other men are good seamen, active and
obedient, which is all that he requires. I shall not particularly
introduce them.
'Now you may call for another litre, my lads, and that must be the last;
the tide is flowing fast, and we shall be afloat in half an hour, and we
have just the breeze we want. What d'ye think, Morrison, shall we have
dirt?'
'I've been looking just now, and if it were any other month in the year
I should say yes; but there's no trusting April, captain. Howsomever, if
it does blow off, I'll promise you a fog in three hours afterwards.'
'That will do as well. Corbett, have you settled with Duval?'
'Yes, after more noise and _charivari_ than a panic in the Stock
Exchange would make in England. He fought and squabbled for an hour, and
I found that, without some abatement, I never should have settled the
affair.'
'What did you let him off?'
'Seventeen sous,' replied Corbett, laughing.
'And that satisfied him?' inquired Pickersgill.
'Yes--it was all he could prove to be a _surfaire_: two of the knives
were a little rusty. But he will always have something off; he could not
be happy without it. I really think he would commit suicide if he had to
pay a bill without a deduction.'
'Let him live,' replied Pickersgill. 'Jeannette, a bottle of Volnay of
1811, and three glasses.'
Jeannette, who was the _fille de cabaret_, soon appeared with a bottle
of wine, seldom called for, except by the captain of the
_Happy-go-lucky_.
'You sail to-night?' said she, as she placed the bottle before him.
Pickersgill nodded his head.
'I had a strange dream,' said Jeannette; 'I thought you were all taken
by a revenue cutter, and put in a _cachot_. I went to see you, and I did
not know one of you again--you were all changed.'
'Very likely, Jeannette; you would not be the first who did not know
their friends again when in misfortune. There was nothing strange in
your dream.'
'_Mais, mon Dieu! je ne suis pas comme ca, moi._'
'No, that you are not, Jeannette; you are a good girl, and some of these
fine days I'll marry you,' said Corbett.
'_Doit etre bien beau ce jour la, par exemple_,' replied Jeannette,
laughing; 'you have promised to marry me every time you have come in
these last three years.'
'Well, that proves I keep to my promise, anyhow.'
'Yes; but you never go any further.'
'I can't spare him, Jeannette, that is the real truth,' said the
captain; 'but wait a little--in the meantime, here is a five-franc piece
to add to your _petite fortune_.'
'_Merci bien, monsieur le capitaine; bon voyage!_' Jeannette held her
finger up to Corbett, saying, with a smile, '_mechant!_' and then
quitted the room.
'Come, Morrison, help us to empty this bottle, and then we will all go
on board.'
'I wish that girl wouldn't come here with her nonsensical dreams,' said
Morrison, taking his seat; 'I don't like it. When she said that we
should be taken by a revenue cutter, I was looking at a blue and a white
pigeon sitting on the wall opposite; and I said to myself, Now, if that
be a warning, I will see: if the _blue_ pigeon flies away first, I shall
be in jail in a week; if the _white_, I shall be back here.'
'Well?' said Pickersgill, laughing.
'It wasn't well,' answered Morrison, tossing off his wine, and putting
the glass down with a deep sigh; 'for the cursed _blue_ pigeon flew away
immediately.'
'Why, Morrison, you must have a chicken heart to be frightened at a blue
pigeon!' said Corbett, laughing, and looking out of the window; 'at all
events, he has come back again, and there he is sitting by the white
one.'
'It's the first time that ever I was called chicken-hearted,' replied
Morrison in wrath.
'Nor do you deserve it, Morrison,' replied Pickersgill; 'but Corbett is
only joking.'
'Well, at all events, I'll try my luck in the same way, and see whether
I am to be in jail: I shall take the blue pigeon as my bad omen, as you
did.'
[Illustration: _Jeannette held her finger up to Corbett, saying, with a
smile,_ 'mechant!' _and then quitted the room_]
The sailors and Captain Pickersgill all rose and went to the window, to
ascertain Corbett's fortune by this new species of augury. The blue
pigeon flapped his wings, and then he sidled up to the white one; at
last, the white pigeon flew off the wall and settled on the roof of the
adjacent house. 'Bravo, white pigeon!' said Corbett; 'I shall be here
again in a week.' The whole party, laughing, then resumed their seats;
and Morrison's countenance brightened up. As he took the glass of wine
poured out by Pickersgill, he said, 'Here's your health, Corbett; it was
all nonsense, after all--for, d'ye see, I can't be put in jail without
you are. We all sail in the same boat, and when you leave me you take
with you everything that can condemn the vessel--so here's success to
our trip.'
'We will all drink that toast, my lads, and then on board,' said the
captain; 'here's success to our trip.'
The captain rose, as did the mates and men, drank the toast, turned down
the drinking vessels on the table, hastened to the wharf, and in half an
hour the _Happy-go-lucky_ was clear of the port of St. Maloes.
CHAPTER IV
PORTLAND BILL
The _Happy-go-lucky_ sailed with a fresh breeze and a flowing sheet from
St. Maloes the evening before the _Arrow_ sailed from Barn Pool. The
_Active_ sailed from Portsmouth the morning after.
The yacht, as we before observed, was bound to Cowes, in the Isle of
Wight. The _Active_ had orders to cruise wherever she pleased within the
limits of the admiral's station; and she ran for West Bay, on the other
side of the Bill of Portland. The _Happy-go-lucky_ was also bound for
that bay to land her cargo.
The wind was light, and there was every appearance of fine weather, when
the _Happy-go-lucky_, at ten o'clock on the Tuesday night, made the
Portland lights; as it was impossible to run her cargo that night, she
hove-to.
At eleven o'clock the Portland lights were made by the revenue cutter
_Active_. Mr. Appleboy went up to have a look at them, ordered the
cutter to be hove-to, and then went down to finish his allowance of
gin-toddy. At twelve o'clock the yacht _Arrow_ made the Portland lights,
and continued her course, hardly stemming the ebb tide.
Day broke, and the horizon was clear. The first on the look-out were, of
course, the smugglers; they, and those on board the revenue cutter, were
the only two interested parties--the yacht was neuter.
'There are two cutters in sight, sir,' said Corbett, who had the watch;
for Pickersgill, having been up the whole night, had thrown himself down
on the bed with his clothes on.
'What do they look like?' said Pickersgill, who was up in a moment.
'One is a yacht, and the other may be; but I rather think, as far as I
can judge in the gray, that it is our old friend off here.'
'What! old Appleboy?'
'Yes, it looks like him; but the day has scarcely broke yet.'
'Well, he can do nothing in a light wind like this; and before the wind
we can show him our heels; but are you sure the other is a yacht?' said
Pickersgill, coming on deck.
'Yes; the king is more careful of his canvas.'
'You're right,' said Pickersgill, 'that is a yacht; and you're right
there again in your guess--that is the stupid old _Active_ which creeps
about creeping for tubs. Well, I see nothing to alarm us at present,
provided it don't fall a dead calm, and then we must take to our boat as
soon as he takes to his; we are four miles from him at least. Watch his
motions, Corbett, and see if he lowers a boat. What does she go now?
Four knots?--that will soon tire their men.'
The positions of the three cutters were as follows:--
The _Happy-go-lucky_ was about four miles off Portland Head, and well
into West Bay. The revenue cutter was close to the Head. The yacht was
outside of the smuggler, about two miles to the westward, and about five
or six miles from the revenue cutter.
'Two vessels in sight, sir,' said Mr. Smith, coming down into the cabin
to Mr. Appleboy.
'Very well,' replied the lieutenant, who was _lying_ down in his
_standing_ bed-place.
'The people say one is the _Happy-go-lucky_, sir,' drawled Smith.
'Heh? what! _Happy-go-lucky_? Yes, I recollect; I've boarded her twenty
times--always empty. How's she standing?'
'She stands to the westward now, sir; but she was hove-to, they say,
when they first saw her.'
'Then she has a cargo in her;' and Mr. Appleboy shaved himself, dressed,
and went on deck.
'Yes,' said the lieutenant, rubbing his eyes again and again, and then
looking through the glass, 'it is her, sure enough. Let draw the
foresheet--hands make sail. What vessel's the other?'
'Don't know, sir--she's a cutter.'
'A cutter? yes; maybe a yacht, or maybe the new cutter ordered on the
station. Make all sail, Mr. Tomkins; hoist our pendant, and fire a
gun--they will understand what we mean then; they don't know the
_Happy-go-lucky_ as well as we do.'
In a few minutes the _Active_ was under a press of sail; she hoisted her
pendant, and fired a gun. The smuggler perceived that the _Active_ had
recognised her, and she also threw out more canvas, and ran off more to
the westward.
'There's a gun, sir,' reported one of the men to Mr. Stewart, on board
of the yacht.
'Yes; give me the glass--a revenue cutter; then this vessel inshore
running towards us must be a smuggler.'
'She has just now made all sail, sir.'
'Yes, there's no doubt of it. I will go down to his lordship, keep her
as she goes.'
Mr. Stewart then went down to inform Lord B. of the circumstance. Not
only Lord B. but most of the gentlemen came on deck; as did soon
afterwards the ladies, who had received the intelligence from Lord B.,
who spoke to them through the door of the cabin.
But the smuggler had more wind than the revenue cutter, and increased
her distance.
'If we were to wear round, my lord,' observed Mr. Stewart, 'she is just
abreast of us and inshore, we could prevent her escape.'
'Round with her, Mr. Stewart,' said Lord B.; 'we must do our duty and
protect the laws.'
'That will not be fair, papa,' said Cecilia Ossulton; 'we have no
quarrel with the smugglers: I'm sure the ladies have not, for they bring
us beautiful things.'
'Miss Ossulton,' observed her aunt, 'it is not proper for you to offer
an opinion.'
The yacht wore round, and, sailing so fast, the smuggler had little
chance of escaping her; but to chase is one thing--to capture another.
'Let us give her a gun,' said Lord B., 'that will frighten her; and he
dare not cross our hawse.'
The gun was loaded, and not being more than a mile from the smuggler,
actually threw the ball almost a quarter of the way.
[Illustration: _The gun was loaded, and not being more than a mile from
the smuggler, actually threw the ball almost a quarter of the way._]
The gentlemen, as well as Lord B., were equally excited by the ardour of
pursuit; but the wind died away, and at last it was nearly calm. The
revenue cutter's boats were out, and coming up fast.
'Let us get our boat out, Stewart,' said his lordship, 'and help them;
it is quite calm now.'
The boat was soon out: it was a very large one, usually stowed on, and
occupied a large portion of, the deck. It pulled six oars; and when it
was manned, Mr. Stewart jumped in, and Lord B. followed him.
'But you have no arms,' said Mr. Hautaine.
'The smugglers never resist now,' observed Stewart.
'Then you are going on a very gallant expedition indeed,' observed
Cecilia Ossulton; 'I wish you joy.'
But Lord B. was too much excited to pay attention. They shoved off, and
pulled towards the smuggler.
At this time the revenue boats were about five miles astern of the
_Happy-go-lucky_, and the yacht about three-quarters of a mile from her
in the offing. Pickersgill had, of course, observed the motions of the
yacht; had seen her wear on chase, hoist her ensign and pendant, and
fire her gun.
'Well,' said he, 'this is the blackest ingratitude: to be attacked by
the very people whom we smuggle for! I only wish she may come up with
us; and, let her attempt to interfere, she shall rue the day. I don't
much like this, though.'
As we before observed, it fell nearly calm, and the revenue boats were
in chase. Pickersgill watched them as they came up.
'What shall we do?' said Corbett, 'get the boat out?'
'Yes,' replied Pickersgill, 'we will get the boat out, and have the
goods in her all ready; but we can pull faster than they do, in the
first place; and, in the next, they will be pretty well tired before
they come up to us. We are fresh, and shall soon walk away from them; so
I shall not leave the vessel till they are within half a mile. We must
sink the ankers, that they may not seize the vessel, for it is not worth
while taking them with us. Pass them along, ready to run them over the
bows, that they may not see us and swear to it. But we have a good
half-hour and more.'
'Ay, and you may hold all fast if you choose,' said Morrison, 'although
it's better to be on the right side and get ready; otherwise, before
half an hour, I'll swear that we are out of their sight. Look there,'
said he, pointing to the eastward at a heavy bank, 'it's coming right
down upon us, as I said it would.'
'True enough; but still there is no saying which will come first,
Morrison, the boats or the fog; so we must be prepared.'
'Hilloa! what's this? why, there's a boat coming from the yacht!'
Pickersgill took out his glass.
'Yes, and the yacht's own boat, with the name painted on her bows. Well,
let them come--we will have no ceremony in resisting them; they are not
in the Act of Parliament, and must take the consequences. We have nought
to fear. Get stretchers, my lads, and handspikes; they row six oars, and
are three in the stern-sheets: they must be good men if they take us.'
In a few minutes Lord B. was close to the smuggler.
'Boat ahoy! what do you want?'
'Surrender in the king's name.'
'To what, and to whom, and what are we to surrender? We are an English
vessel coasting along shore.'
'Pull on board, my lads,' cried Stewart; 'I am a king's officer: we know
her.'
The boat darted alongside, and Stewart and Lord B., followed by the men,
jumped on the deck.
'Well, gentlemen, what do you want?' said Pickersgill.
'We seize you! you are a smuggler--there's no denying it: look at the
casks of spirits stretched along the deck.'
'We never said that we were not smugglers,' replied Pickersgill; 'but
what is that to you? You are not a king's ship, or employed by the
revenue.'
'No; but we carry a pendant, and it is our duty to protect the laws.'
'And who are you?' said Pickersgill.
'I am Lord B.'
'Then, my lord, allow me to say that you would do much better to attend
to the framing of laws, and leave people of less consequence, like those
astern of me, to execute them. "Mind your own business" is an old
adage. We shall not hurt you, my lord, as you have only employed words,
but we shall put it out of your power to hurt us. Come aft, my lads.
Now, my lord, resistance is useless; we are double your numbers, and you
have caught a Tartar.'
[Illustration: _'Well, gentlemen, what do you want?' said
Pickersgill._]
Lord B. and Mr. Stewart perceived that they were in an awkward
predicament.
'You may do what you please,' observed Mr. Stewart, 'but the revenue
boats are coming up, recollect.'
'Look you, sir, do you see the revenue cutter?' said Pickersgill.
Stewart looked in that direction, and saw that she was hidden in the
fog.
'In five minutes, sir, the boats will be out of sight also, and so will
your vessel; we have nothing to fear from them.'
'Indeed, my lord, we had better return,' said Mr. Stewart, who perceived
that Pickersgill was right.
'I beg your pardon, you will not go on board your yacht so soon as you
expect. Take the oars out of the boat, my lads, two or three of you, and
throw in a couple of our paddles for them to reach the shore with. The
rest of you knock down the first man who offers to resist. You are not
aware, perhaps, my lord, that you have attempted _piracy_ on the high
seas?'
Stewart looked at Lord B. It was true enough. The men of the yacht could
offer no resistance; the oars were taken out of the boat and the men put
in again.
'My lord,' said Pickersgill, 'your boat is manned, do me the favour to
step into it; and you, sir, do the same. I should be sorry to lay my
hands upon a peer of the realm, or a king's officer even on half-pay.'
Remonstrance was vain; his lordship was led to the boat by two of the
smugglers, and Stewart followed.
'I will leave your oars, my lord, at the Weymouth Custom-house, and I
trust this will be a lesson to you in future to "mind your own
business."'
The boat was shoved off from the sloop by the smugglers, and was soon
lost sight of in the fog, which had now covered the revenue boats as
well as the yacht, at the same time it brought down a breeze from the
eastward.
'Haul to the wind, Morrison,' said Pickersgill, 'we will stand out to
get rid of the boats; if they pull on they will take it for granted that
we shall run into the bay, as will the revenue cutter.'
Pickersgill and Corbett were in conversation abaft for a short time,
when the former desired the course to be altered two points.
'Keep silence all of you, my lads, and let me know if you hear a gun or
a bell from the yacht,' said Pickersgill.
'There is a gun, sir, close to us,' said one of the men; 'the sound was
right ahead.'