"I am ashamed to say, I do not know who you can be, though I have a
kind of consciousness that your features are those of an old friend."
"Do you remember Richard Musgrave?"
"What! Dick Muzzy? To be sure I do--the kindest-hearted fellow that
ever dog's-eared a Latin grammar. What news of my old schoolmate?"
"He is speaking to you now."
"Is it possible? You Richard Musgrave? Why, Richard was younger, I
rather think, than myself; and you, begging your pardon, look almost
old enough to be my father."
"So it is, notwithstanding. I am Richard Musgrave. Time and climate
must have altered me even more sadly than I conceived, since Frank
Lorrimer fails to recognise me."
He was indeed changed. Some alteration might have been expected, for
several years had elapsed since we had met; but time alone could not
have thus metamorphosed him. We had been schoolfellows and intimate
friends; and, when he left home, ten years before, he was a handsome,
vigorous young fellow, with hair dark as a raven's wing, and a brow
clear as alabaster. Now, his hair was iron-grey, his features were
dark and sunburned, and the scar, of a sabre-wound apparently,
disfigured his forehead. Even with my knowledge of his identity, some
minutes elapsed ere I could persuade myself that the friend of my
early years stood before me; but my recollection slowly revived as I
gazed upon him, and I wondered at my own stupidity in not having
sooner recognised him.
"Musgrave, my dear fellow," said I, shaking him cordially by the hand,
"I rejoice to see you. Time has altered us both outwardly; but, I
trust, it has left our hearts unchanged. The recollection of youthful
joys and sorrows is the last to leave us. Amid all the changes and
chances of life, our thoughts fondly dwell upon the days of our
innocent and happy childhood; and all the friendships we form in after
years can never efface the remembrance of those who were dear to us in
early youth. I have often thought of you, Musgrave, and often, though
in vain, I have made anxious inquiries after the fate of my old
friend and schoolfellow; and, now that you _have_ returned, I should
have passed you by as a common stranger, had your memory been as
treacherous as my own."
"You forget, my dear fellow," replied he, "that _you_ are but little
changed; your florid cheek, and smooth, unwrinkled brow, prove that
time has been flowing on in a smooth, unruffled current with _you_;
that you have been leading a life of ease and comfort. But look at me;
on my sunburned features you may read a tale of hardship and exposure.
Look at my brow! these premature wrinkles are mementos of care and
anxiety. But, come, I have much to ask and to tell you; if you have
leisure, let us retire to a private room, and talk over the past. I
cannot, I find, proceed on my journey till the morning, and I could
not employ my time more agreeably than in conversation with an old
friend."
I willingly complied with his request, and we were soon seated beside
a comfortable fire, with "all appliances and means to boot," for
making the evening pass with _spirit_.
"Now, Frank," said Musgrave, "before we commence, set my mind at rest
about my family. Do you know anything of them?"
"It is some time since I saw them; but I heard a few days ago that
they were all well."
"Thank you, thank you, my dear fellow; you have removed a load of
anxiety from my mind. Fill your glass to 'auld langsyne,' and then we
will talk over old scenes and old friends."
Long and confidential was our conversation, and varied were the
feelings which it excited. There can be few more interesting events in
a man's life than the unexpected meeting with a long-absent friend.
There is a mournful pleasure in recalling the past, in contrasting the
sad experience of maturer years with the sanguine and glowing
anticipations of our youth. For a few passing moments we forget the
march of time, we look back through the long vista of years, and once
more the warm, and joyous, and fresh feelings of youth seem to gush
forth, and to soften and revive our world-seared and hardened hearts.
So it was with _us_.
The present was for awhile forgotten by us; we were living in the
past; and loud and joyful were our bursts of merriment when we talked
of old jokes and adventures; and then again the thought came over us,
like a chilling blight, suffusing our eyes with tears, that the
curtain of death had fallen over most of our young and cheerful
fellow-actors on the early stage of life. It was with saddened and
subdued hearts we dwelt upon the brief career of some of our early
companions; and we sat for some minutes in silence, musing upon the
vicissitudes of human life. At last, with a forced attempt at
merriment, Musgrave exclaimed, in the words of an old sea ditty--
"'Come, grieving's a folly;
So let us be jolly:
If we've troubles at sea, boys, we've pleasures on shore.'"
"Replenish your tumbler, Frank," continued he; "we'll talk no more of
the past; that's gone beyond recall; but let us make the most of the
present. We have not many hours before us; and I have heard nothing of
your adventures since we parted, nor you of mine. Set a good example,
and begin."
"My story is soon told," replied I; "for, as you remarked before, time
has been flowing on, for me, quiet and undisturbed. I have no
adventures to relate--no stirring accidents by field or flood; mine
has been a humdrum, peaceful life, unmarked by variety, except those
common ones which would be uninteresting to a man of travel and
adventure like yourself."
"Nothing connected with my old friend can prove uninteresting," said
Musgrave; "so pray commence your tale."
Thus urged, I began as follows:--I continued at school two years after
you so suddenly left it, and was then bound apprentice to a lawyer in
this town. I did not much like the profession which had been chosen
for me; but there was no help for it. I knew that my father had no
interest, and that I must trust entirely to my own exertions for a
provision for my future life. I therefore applied myself diligently to
my duties, and soon had the good fortune to gain the confidence of my
employer. I had been with him about three years, when he sent me to a
neighbouring village to wait upon a client of his. This gentleman was
a retired post-captain, a man who had seen much service, and had been
often and severely wounded.
He was, as I had been before informed, as smart an officer as ever
trod a ship's deck; his whole heart was in his profession; and his
long residence on shore had not broken him of his habit of
interlarding his conversation with sea-phrases; and he delighted in
talking over the adventures of his past life to all who would listen
to him. Notwithstanding his little peculiarities, he was universally
loved and respected. He was a hospitable, kind-hearted man, and a
"gentleman of Nature's own making;" for, though he was a little
wanting in external polish, his actions proved him worthy of the
title. I had often heard of him before, but had never chanced to meet
him. I was much pleased with him at first sight: there was so much
warmth and frankness in his reception of me; and I felt at home with
him in a minute. He was a man of short stature, upright as a dart,
with iron-grey hair, and a keen, quick eye; and had on, when I met him
in the avenue to his house, an old rusty hat, pinched up in the rims,
and placed transversely on his head, so as to look like a "fore and
after," as he called it, or, as we would say, a cocked hat.
"Oh," interrupted Musgrave, "you need not take the trouble of
explaining sea terms to _me_; they are as natural to me as my native
tongue almost."
"I forgot," replied I, "that you are a chip of the same block; so I
will continue my _yarn_--you see I have picked up a little sea-lingo
too. After I had transacted my business with Captain Trimmer, he
pressed me to stay and partake of family fare."
"We pipe to dinner at six-bells," said he; "three o'clock, I mean. You
will have plain fare and a sailor's welcome; which, you know, is a
warm one either to friend or foe."
I accepted his frank invitation with pleasure; and, as it still wanted
an hour to dinner-time, he proposed that we should "take a cruise"
through the grounds till "the grub" was ready. During the walk, he
amused me greatly with his tales of the sea; but I was often obliged
to request him to interpret terms which were as unintelligible to me
as Hebrew or Sanscrit. He laughed heartily at my ignorance, but did
all in his power to enlighten me.
"You have not had the benefit of a sea education, so what can we
expect from you? I'll tell you what, my young friend--I would as soon
come athwart the hawse of a shark as a lawyer (no offence to _you_),
but, somehow or other, I like the cut of your jib, and think we shall
be good friends nevertheless."
"Oh," said I, laughing, alluding to my professional visit, "I am not
the lawyer, but the lawyer's _avant courier_--the pilot-fish, not the
shark."
He laughed heartily, and kept bantering me on the sharking
propensities of my tribe in such an amusing manner that I could not
restrain my mirth. At last, the dinner-bell rang.
"Ah! there's pipe to dinner at last! Come along, youngster; let's see
if you can take your grub as well as you can take a joke."
We dined alone; for his only daughter, he told me, had gone to visit a
neighbour, and would not return till evening. The dinner was
substantial and good; the wines excellent; but, though the old
gentleman pressed me much to drink, he was very moderate himself. When
the cloth was removed, he said--
"Now I will pipe to grog; if you like to join my mess, do so, unless
you prefer your wine."
"Why, if you have no objection," said I, "I will not desert this
capital claret; you may have all the grog to yourself."
"Well, tastes differ; of course, as a landsman you prefer wine; but
you know the old song says--
'A sailor's sheet-anchor is grog.'"
He told me a number of his old adventures; and hours passed away like
minutes in listening to them; but I am free to admit that none of his
yarns were half so pleasant to me as some of the silken thread-ends he
let fall about his daughter Emmeline. There was something in the rough
manner in which he gave vent to the feelings of a father, that
possessed a tenderness which never could have been expressed by the
soft vocables of sentimentality. It is thus (excuse my poetry) that we
often admire the fragrance of a flower the more for the rough petals
from which it emanates. I was captivated, and twitched the old
gentleman on the string which yielded me the best music, till I
thought he suspected some love-larking in my sly attempts to get him
to praise the absent fair one.
"Come, come," he said, "mind your grog; although _I_ say it, who
shouldn't say it, she's as pretty a little craft as ever sailed the
ocean of life; but we're not to take her in tow throughout all our
voyages--so we'll drop her."
"Not till I drink to her, with your leave, sir," said I.
"Oh, as to that, there's no harm," said he. "All I say is, it's a
pity you belong to the land sharks. If you'd been a seaman, I might
have fancied you for a son-in-law."
The words startled me; and, if he had had the keen perception of a
refined man of the world, he might have augured something from the
sound of my voice, though my words belied my thoughts.
"Well, here's to her!" said I; "and may her fortune yield her a better
cast up than a limb of the----" Law I would have said, but he roared
out devil, with a laugh, and I joined him.
But, as I had a long walk before me, I was obliged to take my leave of
the old gentleman rather early in the night. His daughter had not yet
returned; but he was not uneasy on her account, as it was a fine
moonlight night, and she was well acquainted with the road.
"Let me see you often, my young friend," said the captain; "I should
like to become better acquainted with you. We always pipe to breakfast
at nine o'clock, and to dinner at three. I hate your late shore hours.
Come whenever you are inclined to do so. I shall be happy to see you."
We shook hands, and parted; and I was really quite sorry to leave my
new and agreeable friend.
I was walking quietly along the road homewards; the moon was shining
brightly, and the shadow of the high hedge darkened half the road,
when I thought I heard the sound of suppressed voices some short
distance ahead of me. I stopped and listened, and, almost immediately
afterwards, I saw two men creep out from the light side of the road,
and, looking cautiously around, dart over into the shade. The stealthy
motions of the men, and their evident wish for concealment, impressed
me with a conviction that mischief of some kind was intended, and I
was determined to watch their movements. I got through the hedge, and
crept silently along the back of it, till I came to a kind of recess
for holding stones, where I paused and listened. I again heard the
murmur of voices near me, and, crawling quietly on, I came close
behind the speakers, so near to them that I could distinctly hear
every word they said, though I could not see them.
"She'll be here soon, Jem," said one of them; "we couldn't have had a
better night for such a job."
"Too much light, for my taste," replied the other; "however, we must
make the best on't. Our own mothers wouldn't know us in this disguise,
and, without it, she would be too frightened to take particular notice
of us. But are you sure she has the swag?"
"Certain, Smooth-faced Jess told me that her mistress was going to
receive the rent for her father this evening."
"Oh, that's all right; we'll save her the trouble of carrying it all
the way home. It will be rather awkward, though, if she has any one
with her."
"No fear of that. I was in the shrubbery when she was leaving the
house; and I heard her refuse to have a servant with her. I took the
short cut across the fields to join you; and I'm surprised she has not
come up yet. She can't be long, however."
This was a pleasant conversation for me to overhear; it was evident
that robbery, if not murder, was about to be perpetrated, and I was as
evidently destined to be a witness of the act. I might, to be sure,
have sneaked out of the scrape, as the men were quite unconscious of
my vicinity; but I could not bear the thought of deserting a
fellow-creature in the hour of danger, without some attempt for her
rescue--and yet what could I do? I was unarmed, except with a small
walking cane, which would be of little avail against two ruffians, who
were, of course, well provided with the means of offence. I was just
meditating to crawl onwards, and endeavour to warn the expected female
of her danger, when I was arrested by hearing one of the rascals
murmur--"Here she is at last, Jem." A light step was now heard; and,
peeping through a gap in the hedge close beside me, I saw a female
form fast approaching. The lady--for such she seemed by her dress--was
walking along the illuminated part of the road, apparently unconscious
of danger or fear; for she was humming a tune, and every now and then
glancing up at the moon. The critical moment had arrived. I could
almost _hear_ the throbbing of my heart, I felt such a feverish
impatience to put an end to my suspense; my nerves were strung to a
pitch of desperation. I felt as if the strength of a dozen men were in
my arm. I seized a large stone, and, crouching in the gap of the
hedge, I waited with breathless impatience for the expected attack.
The lady was nearly opposite me, when the ruffians rushed out upon
her. There was a faint scream, a momentary struggle, and she lay on
the ground at their feet. Their backs were turned towards me. During
the noise of the scuffle, my footsteps were unheard, and I was close
to them before they were aware.
"Silence! or I'll settle you!" said one of the robbers to his almost
unconscious victim; whom, with all the coolness of fancied security,
he was beginning to plunder. I dashed the stone I held in my hand into
his face, and he fell senseless to the ground, with a heavy groan,
while I shouted at the same time, as if addressing some one behind me,
"Now, Harry, blow the other rascal's brains out." The other _rascal_,
however, did not wait to see the result. He was over the hedge in a
moment, and running for bare life. I pretended to follow him, shouting
aloud till he disappeared into the next enclosure. I then returned to
the road, where I found the man still lying senseless, though
breathing heavily. I took the handkerchief from his neck and bound his
hands together; and tearing the crape from his face, I took a long and
steady look at his features, that I might be able to swear to his
identity, if necessary. The lady, who was fortunately unhurt, and had
by this time recovered from her alarm, overwhelmed me with
acknowledgments, which I parried as well as I was able; and I
endeavoured to turn her thoughts into another channel, by requesting
her to look at the face of the senseless man. After a little
hesitation, she did so, and immediately recognised him as an old
servant of her father's--a worthless vagabond, who had been discharged
for theft, and had vowed revenge. Hitherto I had had little time to
take any particular notice of the appearance of the lady I had been so
fortunate as to rescue. I had merely remarked the grace of her form,
and the soft, sweet tone of her voice; but now that I had leisure to
look at her features, as the moonbeam rested brightly upon them, I was
struck with their beauty: I felt, as Byron has it,
"My sinking heart confess
The might, the majesty of loveliness."
I gladly offered to escort her to her home, which, she said, was only
about half-a-mile distant, and where we could procure assistance to
remove the still insensible footpad. Before we set off, however, I
took the liberty of securing his pistols, which could be of no service
to him in his present state, but might materially benefit us. After a
sharp walk of ten minutes, the lady stopped at a gate, which I
immediately knew to be the one I had so lately left.
"Now, sir, I am at home. Allow me to welcome to it my brave deliverer,
and to introduce him to my father."
"I require no introduction," replied I, "if you are, as I surmise, the
daughter of Captain Trimmer."
"Do you know him?--he is my father."
"I only left him about an hour ago; and fortunate it was that I did
not yield to his urgent wish for me to remain longer."
Captain Trimmer listened in breathless anxiety as his daughter told
the tale of her danger and deliverance; and drawing a long breath when
it was ended, he muttered "Heaven be praised!" He then rang the bell
violently, and gave the servants orders, and directions where to find
the wounded footpad.
"And now, my dear young friend," said he, "what can I say to _you_? I
can't say anything just now, my heart is too full! but there's my
hand, and you shall find me, as long as I live, a firm and warm
friend."
I could only press _his_ affectionately in reply. He insisted upon my
remaining where I was for the night, and despatched a man on horseback
to explain to my friends the reason of my absence. From this time my
intercourse with the worthy captain became daily more intimate--almost
every spare hour of my time was devoted to his society. As his
character opened out upon me, I saw in his conduct so many proofs of
genuine goodness of heart and rectitude of principle, that I felt as
much affection and respect for him as for a dear and honoured parent.
His daughter Emmeline, too, was one of those gentle, retiring
characters, who may require to be known to be admired, and whose
virtues, like those of the sweet and modest violet, require to be
sought after to be properly appreciated. I was always fond of music.
We all know its influence over the feelings--its power to awaken the
hidden sympathies of the heart--to recall the joys and sorrows of the
past, and to stir up glowing anticipations and high resolves for the
future. Her voice was clear and sweet as a bird's; and when she
warbled over the melodies of her native land, I felt so much absorbed
in the beauty of the strain, as almost to forget the singer. You
smile, and anticipate the result. How could it be otherwise? How could
I live in close and constant communion with one so fascinating, and
escape the fascination? It is not amid the factitious glare and
excitement of society that such characters as hers can be appreciated:
there the tinsel too often glitters more brightly than the pure gold;
but in the calm and peaceful intercourse of domestic life, their pure
and gentle influence is felt and valued. I was becoming daily more and
more an admirer of the gentle Emmeline, when the sudden death of my
father awakened me from my dream of love, and startled me into serious
consideration. He died as he had lived--poor; for it was found, on
examining his affairs, that, though maintaining an appearance of
wealth and comfort, his life must have been a constant struggle with
difficulties; and there was barely sufficient left behind to satisfy
the claims of his creditors. Deeply as I was grieved by his loss, I
must say that feeling was not a little heightened by the
disappointment of finding myself unprovided for. I had always been led
to hope, that, though my father, from a wish to give me a spirit of
independence, had left me, during my early life, to the exertions of
my own energies for support, yet that at his death, he would leave me
a handsome competency. But this hope was now disappointed, and with it
vanished my bright dreams of Emmeline and happiness. I could not bear
the thoughts of exposing the woman of my heart to the risk of poverty
and privation. She knew not of my love, and now she must remain for
ever in ignorance of it; for what had I to offer her?--a heart, and
nothing more; and you know, Musgrave, that though _loving_ hearts are
very pretty things in _poetry_, _smoking_ ones would better furnish
forth a poor man's table. I gradually withdrew myself from the society
of my good old friend, though it cost me many a severe pang to do so;
and whenever I did meet him, I had always some faltering excuse to
make about press of business, ill health, or bad weather. I was
talking to him one day, when Emmeline, whom I had not seen for some
time, unexpectedly joined us. The conscious blood rushed to my face
immediately, and I stammered out some incoherent apology in reply to
her expression of surprise at my long absence. The old man noticed my
embarrassment, and became silent and thoughtful. At last, turning to
his daughter, he said, "Emmeline, my love, see what we are to have
for dinner; Mr. Lorimer will take family fare with us. Not a word,
youngster" (to me, as I was beginning to remonstrate), "I am
commanding officer here." We walked on together for some time in
silence; at last he stopped, and taking my hand, while he looked full
in my face he said---
"I am not so blind, Mr. Lorimer, but I can see which way the land
lies. I like to be fair and above-board with every one; and you are
not the man I shall break through the rule with. I like you, Frank
Lorimer; and I would do much to serve you. Emmeline--(ah, there go the
red colours again!)--you love her Frank!--win her and wear her if you
can; you have my free and full consent. I have heard of your father's
death, and its results; and I understand and honour the motives that
have induced you to absent yourself from us. I am not a rich man, but
I have enough to make two young people happy; and I know no one to
whom I would more joyfully confide my daughter's happiness than to
yourself."
Kind, generous old man! I had not a word to say. I merely pressed his
hand in silence and tears. Yes, tears; for joy can weep as well as
grief. I was soon again a constant visiter at Oak Lodge; and in a few
months I had the happiness of calling Emmeline my own. I have been now
married three years, and have every day greater cause to bless the
happy chance which first led me to Oak Lodge. My excellent
father-in-law lives with us, and delights in spending his day in
nursing his little grandchildren. Long may he be spared to us!
"What! married and a father! O Frank, what a fortunate fellow you have
been! Here have I been buffeting about the world for years, the
shuttlecock of fate, hunting fortune in every corner of the world, and
I return home, poor and penniless as the day I left it. I, whose early
dreams were all of the happiness of a married life, shall sink into
my grave a solitary bachelor, without one loved hand to tend my
pillow, and to smooth my passage to the tomb."
"Oh, nonsense. Cheer up, Musgrave," said I; "I shall dance at your
wedding yet. But why need you care now about the scurvy tricks of
fortune abroad, since you have returned to enjoy her favours at home?"
"Favours! What do you mean, Frank?"
"Have you not heard of the death of your poor brother George, and that
the lawsuit in which your father was so long engaged has terminated
favourably for him. He is now in possession of a rental of three
thousand per annum, to which, of course, you will be heir?"
"Heavens! you don't say so!" exclaimed Musgrave; "but I am sure you
would not deceive me. I have not heard from home for upwards of a
twelvemonth. Frank, you are a fine fellow; shake hands with me."
"Ay, that I will," said I; "and I congratulate you with all my heart.
I am glad I have been the first to communicate such pleasing
intelligence; and now, the least you can do in return is to give me an
account of yourself since we parted."
"Why, I'm not in the best mood in the world for storytelling," replied
Musgrave; "this unexpected good fortune has rather destroyed my
equilibrium; however, I will brush up my memory for your
gratification, though the retrospect will be anything but agreeable to
myself. You remember, I daresay, the day when I left school; on my
memory, at least, the recollection of it is as vivid as if it were
yesterday. When I drove away in my uncle's carriage, I thought I was
going home on a temporary visit, and little imagined I was never to
return. When I arrived at home, I found in the drawing-room with my
father a little, active, dark-looking man, with a stern, prompt
manner, who was introduced to me as Captain Fleetwood."
"Richard, my boy," said my father, "you have often expressed a wish to
go to sea, and I have now an opportunity of gratifying you. My friend
Captain Fleetwood has volunteered to take you out with him as
midshipman; and, as I know I could not intrust you to better hands, I
am glad to avail myself of his offer. The warning is rather a short
one, as you must be on board your ship within a fortnight; you have no
time to lose; and I will accompany you to town to prepare your
equipment. We will leave this to-morrow morning at nine o'clock."
I was rather staggered by this sudden announcement; for, though it had
always been the dearest wish of my heart to go to sea, yet there was
something so unexpected in the accomplishment of it, that I repented
of my choice. My heart sank at the thought of such a sudden parting
from home and all that was dear to me; besides, as I had just left
school, I would have preferred having a few days' holiday, and an
opportunity of strutting in my sailor's dress before the eyes of my
admiring schoolfellows. However, there was no help for it now--my lot
was cast for life; and, in a fortnight's time, I was fairly shipped on
board the Anne, a snug free-trader, bound to the East Indies. I pass
over the various details of my early career; you may find an accurate
description of my first feelings and impressions, and those of five
hundred others, on first joining a ship, in any circulating library in
the kingdom. I encountered the usual hardships, and was exposed to the
usual privations, incidental to the life of a sailor; but, as there
was nothing particularly worthy of notice in the first seven or eight
years of my sailor's life, I shall pass at once to the most
interesting event in a career of no trifling variety. It is now
upwards of two years since I went out chief mate of my old ship, under
the command of my first friend, Captain Fleetwood, who was a clever,
active seaman himself, and well qualified to make those under him the
same. We had a crew of twenty-five young and able fellows, with, as
usual, a sprinkling of black sheep among them. Our passengers were
four in number--a gentleman and his wife, and two young ladies, going
out to Bombay under their protection; all agreeable and well-informed
people, and the young ladies blessed with a tolerable share of beauty.
Time passed very pleasantly with us, for we were uncommonly favoured
in wind and weather; and our captain, who was as kind and benevolent
as a man, as he was strict and unflinching as an officer, delighted in
promoting to the utmost every plan for the comfort and amusement of
the crew.
"Och, isn't he a broth of a boy, now, that captain of ours?" I heard
one of our men say to another, on one of the quiet tropical evenings,
when the crew were enjoying themselves in the "waist," and the captain
was whirling one of the ladies round in a waltz on the quarterdeck.
"He's as full of fun as a monkey."
"Take care you don't shave the monkey too close, though, Mike, or
perhaps the _cat_ will shave _you_."
"Is it the cat you mane?" replied Mike; "then, by the powers, it's
myself that's not afeered for the 'cat,' for she never wags her tail
here but when a man's either an ass or a skulk, and no man can say
black's the white of the eye of Mike Delaney. But I say, Tom, hasn't
this been an out-and-out passage? Why, we've never had nothing to do
but to spin yarns and knot them; we might have stowed away the
reef-points in the hold, we've never had no 'casion for them, and as
for salt water, we haven't had a breeze to wash our faces for us since
we left home. Blowed if we shan't get too fine for our work by and
by--reg'lar gentlemen afloat. I think I'll sport a pair of them
overalls that the long-shore beggars call gloves, to keep my flippers
white," said Mike--at the same time spreading out a pair as dirty as
the back of a chimney and as broad as the back of a skate.
"Gloves and delicate flippers like that!" answered his companion; "no,
no, Mike--'twould be a sin and a shame to _hide_ it; that's a regular
dare-devil hand--it cares neither for soap nor water. But, Mike, the
voyage is not half over yet. We've had a fair weather passage so far;
but I'm always afeerd of those unkimmon fine beginnings; ev'rything
goes by contraries in this here world, and a good beginning often
brings in its wake a bad ending. It's not in the coorse of nature to
see such a long spell of fine weather; it's quite unnatural; it'll
break out, by and by, in a fresh place--see if it don't. That 'ere
butcher, the sea, lies there a-smiling at us as if we were so many
hinnocent lambs; but he'll maybe have his hand on our throats yet."
"Well, Tom, it's never no use smelling mischief afore it comes; time
enough when it does show its ugly mug, to grin in its face. I'm not
the man to turn my back on it--nor you neither, for that matter, I'll
be bound."
We had run nearly thirty-four degrees to the south of the equator,
when the weather became very variable, and the wind at last settled
into a strong breeze from the northward. One evening, we were spanking
along with the wind in that quarter, with a heavy confused sea, when a
thick gloom gradually overspread the sky, and the mercury, falling in
the barometer, gave warning of approaching bad weather. All our small
sails were taken in, and every necessary precaution adopted to prepare
for a change. Our topsails were reefed, and the mainsail was hauled up
and handled. About 6 P.M. Captain Fleetwood came on deck, and asked
what I thought of the weather.
"Bad enough, sir; it does not seem to have made up its mind what to
do; however, we are tolerably well prepared for a change, whichever
way it may be."
"You must keep a sharp look-out, Musgrave; if it should begin to rain,
depend upon it, the wind will chop suddenly round to southward. You
must not let it take you unawares."
"I'll look for it in time, sir."
He had scarcely left the deck, when a light, drizzling rain came on, a
partial lull succeeded, and the wind veered suddenly round to the
south-westward. We were prepared for it, however, and our yards were
soon trimmed to the wind; but our troubles were only beginning. The
breeze freshened up so rapidly, that we had barely time to take in
sail fast enough; no sooner was one reef in, than it became necessary
to take in another. The sea was running, as landsmen say, mountains
high; the winds howled through our rigging; and the giant albatrosses
hovered round us, seen indistinctly for a moment through the gloom,
and then soaring away on the gale, as if they were floating down a
stream--their enormous wings extended, but motionless.
But men were aloft, close-reefing, and preparing to furl the
foretopsail, when a heavy sea struck the ship, and a sudden squall
laid her over on her beam-ends almost. The sudden jerk carried away
the topmast backstays. There was no rolling tackle on the topsailyard,
which jerked violently as the ship fell over, and the mast snapped
just above the parrell. Five of the poor fellows were thrown off the
topsailyard to leeward; we heard their cries dying away on the breeze;
we could not see them, the weather was so thick, and darkness was
coming on; and as for saving them, the attempt to do so would have
been madness, although several men sprung forward to volunteer. It was
with heavy hearts the men set to work to clear away the wreck; the
cries of their poor shipmates were still ringing in their ears, and an
hour or two elapsed before it was accomplished. All night long we were
hard at work, furling sails, and sending down yards and masts; and
when the morning appeared, the ship was hove to, with her head to the
south-eastward, under a storm staysail. The decks were lumbered with
wet sails, the main and mizen-topgallantmast and yards, and the
remnants of canvas and rigging saved from the wreck of the topmast.
We spliced the mainbrace, or, as you would say, served out drams; and
the helm being lashed a-lee, the ship's company were sent below, to
obtain the rest they stood so much in need of. Poor fellows! they were
not allowed to enjoy it long.
"Where is the captain?" said the carpenter, rushing up the
quarter-hatch with a face like a ghost--"where is the captain?"
"Well, Soundings," said Captain Fleetwood, "what do you want with me?"
"It's just about the soundings, sir, I want to speak to you." Then,
drawing close to his side, he muttered, "There are four feet water in
the well, sir."
The captain started, but recovered himself immediately.
"Very well. Rig the pumps directly. Mr. Musgrave, call the hands out;
the ship has taken a little too much water in, over all. Heaven grant
it's nothing worse!" murmured he.
The scene around us was now dreary and desolate in the extreme: the
sky was dark, gloomy, and threatening; light, angry-looking,
discoloured clouds flitted over it, like spirits disturbed, while
overhead the scud careered with lightning-like rapidity; the sea was
covered, as far as the eye could reach, with white foam, and the spray
was blown over the ship in a constant heavy shower; the little "Mother
Carey's chickens" were dipping their tiny wings in the waves under our
stern, and the stormy petrel and albatross swept in wide circles round
our storm-tossed vessel. The gale howled mournfully through our
rigging, and every now and then a giant sea dashed against our side,
and threw torrents of water over our decks. The hatches were battened
down fore and aft, and the monotonous clanking of the pumps was heard,
mingled with the loud cheers of the men, as they spirited each other
up to renewed exertions, and the loud "spell oh!" when the different
gangs relieved each other at the pump brakes. The whole of that day
was one of incessant labour; for, when, after some hours of hard work,
we had gained considerably upon the water, and relaxed a little from
our exertions, we found that renewed efforts were required to keep the
enemy at bay. Next morning the wind had greatly decreased, and was
gradually dying away; but a high sea was still running, and the ship
laboured tremendously. More sail was made to steady her; but, in spite
of all our efforts, the leak increased; and at last it became evident,
after everything had been done which seamanship could propose, or
perseverance carry into effect, that the ship was in a foundering
state. The captain, who had shewn himself active and energetic during
the excitement of the storm, now proved that he possessed that true
courage which can face unflinchingly the slow but sure approach of
danger and of death. Calm and collected, nay, even cheerful, at least
in appearance, his example encouraged and animated the crew, now
almost exhausted with their constant exertions. He ordered one watch
below to their hammocks, while the other was busied in fitting out the
boats, and preparing provisions to put into them, and in keeping the
pumps steadily but slowly at work. At last the hands were called
out--"Out boats!" and when they were all assembled, Captain Fleetwood
addressed them as follows:--
"My lads, the ship is sinking under us, and we must take to the boats.
You have been active, patient, and obedient hitherto--be so still, and
you may yet all be saved. Remember, that, as long as _one_ of your
officers is above the water with you, to that officer you owe
obedience. For my part, I am determined--and you know I am no
flincher--to maintain my authority with my life; but I hope you will
not put me to the proof. My intention is to steer for the Island of
Tristan d'Acunha, which, if Providence favours us, we may reach in a
week or ten days; but much depends upon your own exertions. Now, go
below, and take the last meal you will ever eat on board your old
ship. Heaven grant that we may all meet once more on shore!"
The men listened in silence, and uncovered while he spoke; and when he
ended, they burst into a loud cheer, and one of them shouted out--
"We will stand by you to the last, sir!"
"Ay, that we will," was responded by all.
The captain took off his hat, and bowed, evidently much affected, and
dismissed them.
In about twenty minutes they were again called up, and the boats were
hoisted out. We had two quarter-boats, a launch, and a jolly-boat,
which were amply sufficient to hold our whole number, reduced as it
was by the loss of the five poor fellows in the gale; one of the
quarter-boats, however, proved to be so leaky when lowered into the
water, that we were obliged to abandon her. The other boats were
furnished with masts, sails, a fortnight's short provision and water,
arms--everything, in fact, that could be thought of as likely to be
necessary. The captain took charge of the launch, and the second mate
and I cast lots for the cutter; the chance was against me, and I took
command of the jolly-boat. We were eight-and-twenty in number: twelve
men, the captain, and two of the passengers, in the launch; myself,
one of the ladies, and four men, in the jolly-boat; and the remainder
in the cutter. When we had shoved off from the ship, we lay on our
oars at some little distance, as if by mutual consent, to see the last
of her; but the captain shouted out--
"Come, my lads, we have no time to spare; give the old craft one
parting cheer, and let us make the best of our way."
The men stood up, and, taking off their hats, gave three loud and
lengthened cheers. The deserted ship seemed as if she heard and wished
to acknowledge the compliment; her head turned gradually towards us;
she rose slowly and heavily before the swell, then dipped her bows
deep into the water, gave a heavy roll, and sank to rise no more. A
stifled groan broke from the men at this sad sight, which cast an
evident damp over their spirits.
"Come, cheer up, my lads," said the captain; "we've seen the last of
as good a craft as ever floated; but it's of no use being downhearted.
Let us have a cheer for good success!"
The men caught his tone immediately, and their spirits rose when they
saw how cheerfully he bore his loss. Tristan d'Acunha bore about S.
10 deg. W., about 200 miles distant; and, as the wind had again drawn to
the northward, we had every prospect of reaching it in the course of
five or six days. For the first two days we went along merrily enough
with a fine steady breeze, and tolerably smooth water, but, on the
afternoon of the third, the sky again became overcast, and there was
every appearance of another "round turn" in the wind. As night closed
in around us, the captain hailed us from the launch, and desired us to
keep as near together as possible, for fear of separation. This order
was obeyed as long as we were able; but, in the darkness, we soon lost
sight of each other, and the sound of our voices was drowned in the
increasing noise of wind and sea. About ten o'clock, the wind suddenly
shifted in a sharp squall; the sail was taken aback, and the little
boat lay over for a moment as if never to rise again. Fortunately the
haulyards gave way, and the sail went overboard, or she must have been
capsized; as it was, she was nearly half-full of water. I immediately
jumped forward to drag the sail in again, when, to my horror, I heard
the sound of voices crying for help, to leeward: the sail had knocked
two of the men overboard, and it was their dying cry we heard. We
pulled round the boat, and shouted out to them; there was no
answer--they were gone; they must have been half-drowned before they
could get clear of the sail, which had fallen on the top of them. Our
grief for their loss was soon absorbed by our fears for our own
safety. There were now only three of us remaining--for the lady could
be of no assistance--in a small boat, half-full of water; the wind and
sea rising, darkness all around, and the nearest land upwards of one
hundred miles distant; our prospects were dismal indeed. Fortunately
for us, however, we had no time to brood over our misfortunes; the
necessity for active exertion drove all thoughts but those of present
danger from our minds. We baled the boat out as fast as possible, got
the broken mast in-board, and made all as snug as we could. The wind
had shifted, as I said before, to the southward, and came on to blow
fresh; and the sea was again rapidly rising. We had nothing for it but
to keep the boat right before the wind, although it carried us almost
in a contrary direction to the course we wished to steer.
At daylight, we looked anxiously around for the other boats; but in
vain did we strain our eyes--nothing was visible. Sad were our
forebodings as to the fate of our shipmates, and gloomy our
anticipations of the future for ourselves. The wind had moderated
considerably, but we were still obliged to run before it; and it was
not till late in the afternoon that we considered it safe to turn the
boat's head again to the southward. By this time it was almost calm,
but our two oars could do little against the head sea; and after
tugging away at them for some time, we were obliged to lay them in
from sheer exhaustion, merely keeping the boat's head to the sea. A
light breeze springing up at last from the northward, we got the stump
of the mast up, and set the reefed sail upon it, and began slowly to
make headway in the wished-for direction.
During the whole of our perilous voyage, the young lady, who had been
committed to my charge, behaved with the greatest courage and
resignation; not a complaint escaped her lips, though she was drenched
to the skin by the spray and rain; not a scream did she utter when the
dark sea rose under our stern, threatening to engulf our little bark.
We did all we could to make her as comfortable as circumstances would
allow; for rough indeed must be the nature that does not feel kindly
towards youth and beauty in distress. She received all our attentions
with such heartfelt expressions of gratitude, and bore her discomforts
with such cheerful resignation, that the men could not help audibly
expressing their admiration, and vowing to spend their life's-blood in
her service.
The sun was again smiling over our heads, and the water rippled under
the bows of the boat, as she danced before the breeze; and our spirits
were revived by the change. On examining our stock of provisions, we
found that most of our biscuit was completely saturated with salt
water, and that, with the most sparing economy, we had barely
sufficient rum and meat left to last us for a week longer. We
immediately spread the wet bread on the boat's thwarts to dry, and cut
the meat into small equal portions.
"Now, Miss Neville," said I, laughing--though, Heaven knows, there was
little joy in my heart--"I, as commander of this vessel, constitute
you acting-purser; you shall serve out our rations to us equally and
fairly, and, if any one of my ship's company shall dare to question
the justness of your division, or to attempt to help himself without
your permission, he shall feel the weight of my anger."
There was _faint_ laugh at this _faint_ attempt at pleasantry on my
part; and Miss Neville replied--
"I think, _Captain_ Musgrave, you might have appointed a more
sufficient purser than myself; however, I will do my best to justify
your choice."
Another day, and another, we kept crawling slowly on; there was little
or no wind, and our two oars made but little way. I said before that
the boat's crew was reduced to two men and myself. One of these men, a
Scotchman, named M'Farlane, had only lately recovered from a severe
attack of illness, before we left the ship. The fatigue incurred
during the gale, and the danger and excitement of our situation since,
had a fatal effect upon the poor fellow's already shattered
constitution; he suffered in silence, never uttering a word of
complaint; but it was evident to us all that he was sinking fast. On
this day he had been taking his turn at the oar, in spite of my
remonstrances.
"You will kill yourself, M'Farlane," said I. "You are not strong
enough to pull; take the helm, and give Riley the oar again."
"No, sir," replied he; "Riley has had his spell, and I will take mine,
though I die for it. I feel that I am going; but let me die in
harness. No man shall have it to say that Tom M'Farlane was not game
to the last."
Miss Neville joined her entreaties to mine, that he would give over
rowing; but in vain.
"Heaven bless you, ma'am," said he--"and it will bless you, and bring
you in safety out of your dangers. You are just beginning the voyage
of life--and a rough beginning it has been; but never fear. You'll
make a happy port at last. As for me, my voyage is just over. I have
had both rough and smooth in my time. I've had no cause to complain;
and I shall die happy, if I die doing my duty."
The words were scarcely uttered, when he ceased rowing. I turned
round, and saw him, with his face deadly pale, bending over the oar,
which he was in vain endeavouring to dip in the water. He made two or
three convulsive movements, as if in the act of rowing, muttered
"Hurrah, my lads!" and, with a heavy groan, fell backward. Riley and I
raised him immediately, blood was gushing from his nose and mouth,
which we in vain attempted to staunch. He opened his eyes once,
shuddered, and expired. I will not attempt to describe the feelings
with which we gazed upon the body of our unfortunate shipmate, and
thought how soon a still more dreadful doom might be ours. Death, with
all its horrid accompaniments of starvation, drowning, &c., came
before us. All the horrible stories we had heard of deaths at sea, of
misery, hunger, and cannibalism, came crowding upon our memories. At
last the silence was broken by Riley, who growled out--
"Well, there's one more going to feed the fishes! It'll be our turn
soon. However, its some comfort he has left his share of the grub
behind: there'll be more for those who remain."
I could hardly restrain my anger at this cold-blooded speech; but a
look from Emily Neville checked me. Riley, however, observed the
impression his words had made upon me, and, with a diabolical sneer,
said--
"You need not look so black about it. I don't care a button about your
looks or your anger either. One man's as good as another now, and I
won't obey you any longer."
"Riley," said I, starting forward, and seizing him by the collar,
while my voice trembled with suppressed passion, "mark my words! As
long as one plank of this boat hangs to another, I am your officer;
and while I have life in my body, you _shall_ obey me."
The scoundrel was staggered by my firmness, and sat gloomily down upon
the "thwart." Riley had been one of our _black sheep_ on board the
Anne. I never liked the fellow. He was always a skulking,
discontented, vagabond; ever foremost in mischief, and striving to
make his shipmates as mutinous as himself. I saw, by his louring
looks, and his sullen, dogged manner, that we must, before long, come
into collision again, and I determined to prepare for the worst. I
threw all the fire-arms overboard, except a single musket and a brace
of pistols, the latter of which I loaded deliberately before his
eyes.
"Come," said I, "the sun is long past the meridian, we must pipe to
dinner. Miss Neville, serve out our allowance, if you please."
While Riley received his modicum of spirits, he growled out, "Here's a
pretty allowance for a hard-working man. Not a stroke more will I put
till I get more rum."
"Not a drop more shall you have till the regular time; you must be
contented with just enough to keep soul and body together, like your
neighbours; we must not all be sacrificed to gratify your greediness."
"Better die at once," said he, "than starve by inches; a short life
and a merry one for me!--so hand out the stuff at once, for have it I
_will_." And he made a rush to snatch the spirits from Miss Neville.
"Back, scoundrel!" said I, cocking one of my pistols, "or I'll blow
your brains out."
The words were scarcely out of my mouth, when the rascal stooped, and
snatching up a cutlass which he had concealed in the bottom of the
boat, made a cut at me with it, which, but for the tough rim of my
leather hat, would have laid my skull open. As it was, I shall carry
the scar to my grave. One touch of my trigger, and Miss Neville and I
were left in the boat alone. The ball went through his head; he
staggered against the gunwale, toppled overboard, and sank at once,
tinging the water with his blood. Miss Neville was now obliged to act
as doctor as well as purser. She washed my wound, and bound it up as
well as she was able. We neither of us spoke; but fearful were the
thoughts that passed through my mind. The boat lay becalmed upon the
water; my strength, wounded as it was, could do little towards forcing
her onwards. Unless a breeze sprung up, we must lie in utter
helplessness, and die a lingering death by starvation! Miss Neville
read my thoughts, and, stifling her own fears, exerted herself to
inspire me with confidence.
"Fear not, Mr. Musgrave," said she; "the merciful Providence which
has watched over us hitherto, will protect us till the end. Utterly
helpless and hopeless as our situation appears at present, He _can_
save us, and He _will_."
Her words inspired me with renewed energy; and, with a good deal of
difficulty, I stepped the mast, which we had unshipped for greater
convenience in rowing. Next day we made the land, and, before evening,
after a little danger in passing the surf, I landed my precious charge
in safety.
But I must hurry to the conclusion of my tale, for I see Lorrimer, you
are beginning to yawn, and I am tired of it myself.
My first care was to seek a snug shelter among the rocks where I
quickly lighted a fire, and shared with my fair fellow prisoner the
last remains of our slender sea stock. For the next day's subsistence
we were obliged to rely upon my skill as a fowler. I spread the
remainder of the powder to dry, and contrived to make up a rude bed
for Miss Neville, on which, worn out with fatigue and excitement, she
soon enjoyed that rest which she so much required. I retired to a
little distance to watch her slumbers; but very soon followed her
example. In the morning, invigorated and refreshed, I sallied out with
my gun, and soon succeeded in procuring some birds for our morning
meal; I then climbed the highest part of the island, and set up the
boat's mast with a handkerchief flying from it, in hopes of attracting
the attention of some passing South Sea whaler. Weeks passed in dreary
monotony; we wanted for none of the absolute necessaries of life; but
we were prisoners, and that consciousness alone was enough to make
_me_ discontented and restless. My fair companion bore all her
inconveniences unrepiningly, and did all in her power to soothe and
comfort me; her sweet disposition, and gentle, silent attentions,
insensibly withdrew my thoughts from the discomforts of the present,
and hope pictured a bright future of happiness with her whom fate had
thrown upon my protection. One morning at daybreak, I climbed as
usual to my signal-post, and there, about three miles to windward of
the island, a ship was standing under easy sail to the westward. The
ship was hove to, and a boat lowered. I rushed down to apprise Miss
Neville of the joyful event, and we both hurried to the beach, to
receive our welcome visiters. After considerable difficulty, on
account of the surf, they effected a landing, and were greeted by us
with the warmest gratitude. The vessel, we were told, was the Medusa,
South Seaman, and had been out from England nearly two years; they had
observed my flag some time before they hove to, and at first thought
it had been left there by some former ship, as there were no settlers
on the island at the time; but they fortunately saw me through their
glasses, and determined upon landing.
The evening was closing in cloudy and threatening, the surf was
beginning to run high, and everything indicated bad weather.
"Come, be quick!" said the captain of the Medusa, who was in the boat;
"jump in, we've no time to lose; there's a gale coming on, and I
wouldn't wait two minutes longer for the world."
As we were struggling through the heavy surf, a sudden roll of the
boat threw me overboard, and in a moment I was swept some distance
towards the beach. I swam for the shore immediately, as I knew it was
in vain to attempt reaching the boat again, or to hope that they would
risk their own lives, or the safety of the ship, by longer delay. I
was an excellent swimmer, and reached shore in safety, where I had the
mortification of seeing the Medusa make sail, and haul off the land. I
comforted myself, however, with the reflection, that Emily Neville was
in safety, and that, if the captain of the Medusa was a _Christian_,
he would return to take me off the island. That night a heavy gale of
wind came on from the north-west and a constant succession of stormy
changes of wind and calm followed for some time. In about a month, a
sail hove in sight; it was the Medusa! Oh, how delighted I was, once
more to feel a solid plank under my foot! I felt myself at home once
more when I touched her deck, and asked for Emily Neville. She was
gone! The Medusa had fallen in with a Cape trader, and Miss Neville
had taken a passage on board of her to the Cape, from whence she meant
to proceed to England. Imagine my disappointment! For two months
longer we beat about in these latitudes in the Medusa, and then, our
cargo being completed, we shaped our course homewards. On my arrival
in England, I went to my old friend, Darcy, who provided me with the
needful, and I am now so far on my way home. You tell me I have gained
a fortune; but I have lost the only girl I ever loved, and without her
fortune is valueless.