JACK AND THE MUTINEERS.
"Obedience every work combines,
Diffuses to each part
That ardour which the mind refines,
Expands and mends the heart."
DIBDIN.
"It's been a-going on for some little len'th o' time, your honour," said
Jones. "Me and my messmates took little heed o't for a time, thinkin' it
were only Scrivings' bombast, 'cause ye see, sir, he's only a blessed
mouth of a fellow arter all."
"Ha!" interrupted M'Hearty, "that fellow is one of your pressed men,
isn't he?"
"Yes," said Jack; "the ringleader of the smugglers, and a bold, bad
man."
"That's he to a T," said Jones. "Well, they're all in it, the twenty o'
them. I'm no sneak, and I'm no spy, but I thought it was my duty to tell
your honour. They're preaching mutiny, and they're spreading sedition,
and--and"--here Jones lost his temper, and forgot himself so far as to
bring his fist down on the table with a force that made all the glasses
rattle--"I'd hang the blessed lot."
Jones was thanked, told to keep dark, and, after a stiff glass of the
captain's rum, retired. This man had done his duty.
Early next morning, Admiral Sir John was surprised to receive a visit
from Captain Mackenzie.
The latter soon opened fire in true sailor fashion.
"Admiral," he said, "I've come to make an exchange. I want two of your
best men for two of my very bad hats."
The admiral laughingly requested an explanation. "For," he added, "you
certainly seem to me to wish the better half of the bargain."
Jack explained in a very few words. He desired, instead of bringing the
would-be mutineers to trial, to send one or two of them to every ship in
the fleet.
"'Pon honour," said Jervis, "the plan does you credit. I'd have hanged
one or two of them. But this is better--indeed it is. Well, I'll take
your two blackest hats; and I shan't forget to mention your cleverness
when I send home a despatch. Come down to breakfast."
That very day the smugglers were scattered all over the fleet, and peace
once more reigned in the _Tonneraire_.
* * * * *
In a few weeks' time the wounded on board Jack's ship were nearly all
well; and he was not sorry when one day he was sent for by the admiral,
and told that he was to proceed to sea. There were many ships, both
Spanish and French, sailing to and fro on the coast carrying despatches
of great importance, because they were intended to enable the enemy to
complete their plans. These he was to chase, and either capture or
destroy as suited him best.
Before he left on this cruise, the men and officers of the _Tonneraire_
were delighted to receive letters from home. Jack took his little packet
with a beating heart, and, retiring to his cabin, gave orders that he
was not to be disturbed until he should again appear.
Ah, no one save a sailor knows the real delight experienced in receiving
letters from home! And here was one in his father's handwriting. Why,
it was dated from Ireland; and that is where the general was stationed,
waiting, as he said, to give a true Highland welcome to the French as
soon as they should land. It said nothing about the lost estate and the
bonnie house that once was their home; but it was bold and hopeful
throughout. The general had heard of all Jack's doings, and was proud of
such a son. He concluded with a fatherly blessing, bidding him never
forget he was a Grant Mackenzie.
Then he opened Flora's letter. Sisterly throughout. She was as happy at
Torquay as she could expect to be, but longed--oh so much--to see her
dear brother once more. Then she went on to talk of old times, and how
happy they would be when they were all together once again. So it
concluded, without one word about Gerty.
He laid the letter down with a sigh. A strange sense of loneliness, of
forsakenness, took possession of his heart. He thought he had forgotten
his false love. At this moment she seemed dearer to him than ever.
He next took slowly up from the table a letter in a strange, ill-spelt,
scrawly hand, and opened it mechanically. But his face brightened as he
began to read. I append a portion of it with a few corrections:--
"MY DEAR LUV,--Which it is me as misses you. Yes, Master Jack, me
and missus too, though you promised to marry me when you grew a
man, and used to give me such sweet kisses. Oh, I wish I had some
now! I know'd as that was only Jack's little joke. Me a servant
girl, and you a big, tall, beautiful officer. But, la! the larks as
we used to 'ave when putting you to bed. It makes me larf now to
think of 'em; and how you wouldn't go to sleep till I lay down
beside you and sung you off. Yes, missus misses you, and so do I.
And poor old Sir Digby has been laid up with the gout; and poor
dear missus says as how she won't marry him for two years yet to
come. And old master's content because he says he knows she'll be
Lady Digby by-and-by. But missus she do look so sad and peaky
sometimes; only when old Mr. Richards comes she just goes wild with
joy, and sits on his knee just like old times, and sometimes, poor
child, goes to sleep with her head on his shoulder. But here comes
missus, only she mustn't see this letter. No more at present, but
remains yours till death, with luv and sweet kisses.--MARY."
Love and sweet kisses, indeed! Jack laughed aloud. Then he read Mary's
letter all over again. Then, will it be believed? he kissed it. After
this, can you credit it? he placed it in his bosom. What did Jack mean,
I wonder?
The next letter was a right hearty one, from kind old Mr. Richards.
There was a deal of business in it, and a deal that wasn't; but the
sentence that pleased Jack best was this: "I'm looking after Gerty. I'm
saving her for _you_. Old Keane _may_ sacrifice his daughter to Sir
Digby, but there will be two moons in the sky that day, and another in
the duck-pond. Keep up your heart, boy. I'm laying the prettiest little
trap for Sir Digby ever you saw. Gee-ho! Cheerily does it."
Cheerily did do it. All the gloom that poor Flora's kind letter had left
in Jack's heart was banished now, and he had begun to sing.
He was leaving his room, when he ran foul of Tom Fairlie.
Tom was singing too, and smiling.
Jack pulled him right into his cabin and shut the door.
"What are you all smiles about?" said Jack.
"Why are you all smiles?" said Tom.
"Had a letter from Flora?"
"Heard about Gerty?"
Then something very funny or very joyous seemed to tickle the pair of
them at precisely the same moment, and they laughed aloud till all the
glasses on the swing-table rang out a jingling chorus.
"I say, Tom," said Jack at last, "I feel I can fight the French now."
"Precisely how I feel. Ha! ha! ha!"
"Well, come and dine with me to-night--all alone." And Tom did.