_1st Witch_. “Hail!”
_2d Witch_. “Hail!”
_3d Witch_. “Hail!”
_1st Witch_. “Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.”
_2d Witch_. “Not so happy, yet much happier.”
MACBETH.
I hope I shall be believed in saying, if Marble had been with us when
we retook the ship, I should have been perfectly happy. He was not,
however, and regret was left to mingle in our triumph. I had a hasty
interview with Major Merton that night, and communicated all that was
necessary to quiet the apprehensions of his daughter. Emily was in her
state-room, and had been alarmed, as a matter of course; but when she
learned that all was over, and had terminated successfully, her fears
yielded to reason. Of course, both she and her father felt it to be a
great relief that they were no longer prisoners.
We were no sooner fairly in command of our old ship, again, than I had
all hands called to get the anchor. We hove up, and passed out to sea
without delay, it being necessary to cover our movements with as much
mystery as possible, in order to prevent certain awkward demands from
the Spanish government, on the subject of the violation of neutral
territory. A hint from Major Merton put me on my guard as respected this
point, and I determined to disappear as suddenly as we had arrived,
in order to throw obstacles in the way of being traced. By day-light,
therefore, both the ship and schooner were four leagues from the
land, and on the “great highway of nations;” a road, it may be said in
passing, that was then greatly infested by foot-pads and other robbers.
Just as the sun rose, we buried the dead. This was done decently, and
with the usual ceremony, the triumph of victory giving place to the sad
reflections that are so apt to succeed to the excited feelings of most
of our struggles. I saw poor Le Compte disappear from sight with regret,
and remembered his recent hopes, his generous treatment, his admiration
of Emily, and all that he had so lately thought and felt, as a warning
of the fragile nature of life, and that which life can bestow. Thus
terminated an acquaintance of a month; but a month that had been
pregnant with incidents of great importance to myself.
It now became necessary to decide on our future course. I had the ship,
just as the French got her from us, with the addition of those portions
of their own cargo with which they had intended to trade on the coast of
South America. These consisted of silks and various fancy articles, with
a little wine, and would be nearly as valuable at home as they were in
Spanish America. I was strongly averse to smuggling, and the ship having
already followed out her original instructions on this point, I saw no
necessity for pursuing the ungrateful trade any further. Could I return
to the island, and get the articles of value left on it by the French,
such as the copper they had not used, and divers pales received from
the Bombay ship, which had been abandoned by us all under a tent, more
profit would accrue to my owners than by any illicit commerce we could
now possibly carry into effect on the coast.
While Talcott, and the new chief-mate, and myself were discussing these
points, the cry of “sail ho!” was heard. A large ship had suddenly hove
up out of the morning's mist, within a mile of us, and I thought, at
first, we had got under the guns of a Spanish man-of-war. A second look
at her, however, satisfied us all, that, though heavy and armed, she was
merely one of those clumsy traders that sailed, periodically, from the
colonies to Spain. We went to quarters, and cleared ship, but made no
effort to avoid the stranger. The Spaniards, of the two, were the most
uneasy, I believe, their country being then at war with England; but we
spoke each other without coming to blows. As soon as the strangers saw
the American ensign, they expressed a wish to communicate with us; and,
unwilling to let them come on board us, I volunteered a visit to the
Spanish captain. He received me with formal politeness, and, after some
preliminary discourse, he put into my hands some American newspapers,
which contained a copy of the treaty of peace between the United States
and France. On looking over the articles of this new compact, I found
that, had our recapture of the Crisis been delayed to that very day,
at noon, it would have been illegal. The two nations, in fact, were at
peace, when the French seized the ship, but the customary provisions as
to captures in distant seas, just brought us within the saving clauses.
Such is war, and its concomitants!
In the course of half an hour's conversation, I discovered that the
Spaniard intended to touch at Valparaiso, and called, in order to get
men, his own having suffered, up the coast, with the small-pox. His ship
was large, carried a considerable armament, and he should not deem her
safe from the smaller English cruisers, unless he doubled the Cape much
stronger handed than he then was. I caught at the idea, and inquired
what he thought of Frenchmen? They would answer his purpose, for France
and Spain had a common enemy, and nothing would be easier than to send
the French from Cadiz to Marseilles. A bargain was consequently struck
on the spot.
When I got back on board the Crisis, I had all the prisoners mustered on
deck. They were made acquainted with the offers of the Spanish captain,
with the fact that peace now existed between our respective countries,
and with the chance that presented itself, so opportunely, for them to
return home. The proposition was cheerfully accepted, anything being
better than captivity. Before parting, I endeavoured to impress on the
French the necessity of prudence on the subject of our recapturing the
Crisis in Spanish waters, inasmuch as the circumstance might induce an
inquiry as to what took the ship there; it being well understood that
the mines were the punishment of those who were taken in the contraband
trade in that quarter of the world. The French promised fairly.
Whether they kept their words I never knew, but, if they did not, no
consequences ever followed from their revelations. In such a case,
indeed, the Spanish government would be very apt to consider the
question one that touched the interests of smugglers alike, and to feel
great indifference between the parties. At all events, no complaints
were ever made to the American government; or, if made, they never
reached my ears, or those of my owners. It is most probable nothing was
ever said on the subject.
About noon we had got rid of our prisoners. They were allowed to take
away with them all their own effects, and, as usually happens in such
cases, I make little doubt some that belonged to other persons. The
ships then made sail, each on her own course; the Spaniard running down
the coast, while we spread our studding-sails for the island. As soon as
this was done, I felt relieved from a great burthen, and had leisure
to think of other matters. I ought to mention, however, that I put the
second-mate, or him who had become chief-mate by my own advancement, in
command of the “Pretty Poll,” giving him two experienced seamen as his
own mates, and six men, to sail her. This made Talcott the Crisis' first
officer, and glad was I to see him in a station a little suited to his
attainments.
That evening, just as the sun was setting, I saw Emily again, for the
first time since she had stood leaning over the rail as the Crisis shot
through the inlet of the lagoon. The poor girl was pale, and it was
evident, while she could not but rejoice at her liberation, and her
release from the solicitations of the unfortunate Le Compte, that his
death had cast a shade of sadness over her pretty features. It could not
well be otherwise, the female breast ever entertaining its sympathies
for those who submit to the influence of its owner's charms. Then, poor
Le Compte had some excellent qualities, and he treated Emily, as she
admitted to me herself, with the profoundest respect, and delicacy.
His admiration could scarce be an offence in _her_ eyes, however
disagreeable it proved, in certain points of view.
Our meeting partook of the character of our situation, being a mixture
of melancholy and happiness. I rejoiced in our success, while I
regretted Marble, and even our late enemies, while the Major and his
daughter could not but remember all the gloomy particulars of their
late, and, indeed, of their present position.
“We seem to be kept, like Mahomet's coffin, sir,” Emily observed, as
she looked affectionately at her father, “suspended between heaven and
earth--the Indies and America--not knowing on which we are to alight.
The Pacific is our air, and we are likely to breathe it, to our heart's
content.”
“True, love--your comparison is not an unhappy one. But, Wallingford,
what has become of Captain Marble in these stirring times? You have not
left him, Sancho Panza like, to govern Barritaria, while you have come
to recover his ship?”
I told my passengers of the manner in which our old friend had
disappeared, and inquired if anything had been seen of the whale-boat,
or the schooner, on the night of the tropical tempest.
“Nothing”--answered the Major. “So far from expecting to lay eyes on the
'Beautiful Emily,' again, we supposed you would be off for Canton by the
end of the fortnight that succeeded our own departure. At least, that
was poor Le Compte's version of the matter. I am certain however, that
no sail was seen from this ship, during the whole passage; nor, had we
any storm like that you have described. More beautiful weather, I never
met at sea.”
Upon this, I sent for the log-book, and ascertained, by day and date,
that the Crisis was not within fifty leagues of the spot, where
we encountered the thunder-squall. Of course the ship we saw was a
stranger; most probably a whaler. This destroyed any little hope that
was left concerning Marble's fate.
But it is time I should mention a _galanterie_ of poor Le Compte's. He
was well provided with shipwrights--better, indeed, than with seamen--as
was apparent by the readiness with which he had constructed the
schooner. During the passage from Marble Land, he had set these workmen
about building a poop on the Crisis' quarter-deck, and I found the work
completed. There was a very pretty, airy cabin, with two state-rooms
communicating with light quarter-galleries, and everything that is
customary with such accommodations. Furniture had been made, with French
dexterity and taste, and the paint was just dry to receive it. Emily and
her father were to take possession of these new accommodations the very
day succeeding that in which the ship fell again into our hands. This
alteration was not such as I would have made, as a seaman; and I wonder
Mons. Le Compte, who had the gauntlet to run through the most formidable
navy in the world, should have ventured on it, since it sensibly
affected the ship's sailing on a wind. But, now it was peace, I cared
little about it, and determined to let it remain, so long, at least, as
Miss Merton continued on board.
That very night, therefore, the Major occupied one of the state-rooms,
and his daughter the other. Imitating poor Le Compte's gallantry, I gave
them a separate table, though I took quite half my meals with them, by
invitation. Emily did not absolutely dress my wound, a flesh injury in
the shoulder, that office falling to her father's share, who had seen
a good deal of service, and was familiar with the general treatment of
hurts of this nature; but she could, and did, show many of those gentle
and seductive attentions, that the tenderness of her sex can alone
bestow, with full effect, on man. In a fortnight my hurt was cured,
though Emily had specifics to recommend, and advice to bestow, until we
were both ashamed to allude to the subject any longer.
As for the passage, it was just such a one as might be expected to
occur, in the trades of the Pacific. The ship was under studding-sails
nearly the whole time, making, day in and day out, from a hundred and
twenty to two hundred miles in the twenty-four hours. The mates kept the
watches, and I had little to do, but to sit and chat with the Major and
his daughter, in the cool, airy cabin, that Le Compte had provided for
us; listen to Emily's piano, which had been transferred from the prize,
and subsequently saved from the wreck; or read aloud out of some of the
two or three hundred beautifully bound, and sweetly-scented volumes
that composed her library. In that day, people read Pope, and Young, and
Milton, and Shakspeare, and that sort of writers; a little relieved
by Mrs. Radcliffe, and Miss Burney, and Monk Lewis, perhaps. As for
Fielding and Smollet, they were well enough in their place, which was
not a young lady's library, however. There were still more useful books,
and I believe I read everything in the ship, before the voyage ended.
The leisure of a sea-life, in a tranquil, well-ordered vessel, admits
of much study; and books ought to be a leading object in the fitting
out that portion of a vessel's equipment which relates chiefly to the
welfare of her officers and crew.
Time passed pleasantly enough, with a young fellow who had certainly
some reason to be satisfied with his own success thus far in life, and
who could relieve the tedium of ship's duty in such society. I cannot
say I was in love, though I often thought of Emily when she was not
before my eyes, and actually dreamt of her three times, in the
first fortnight after the re-capture of the ship. What was a little
remarkable, as I conceive, I often found myself drawing comparisons
between her and Lucy, though I hardly knew why, myself. The result was
very much after this sort;--Emily had vastly the advantage in all that
related to art, instruction, training--I am wrong, Mr. Harding had given
his daughter a store of precise, useful knowledge, that Emily did not
possess; and then I could not but see that Lucy's tact in moral feeling,
was much of the highest order of the two. But, in purely conventional
attainments, in most that relates to the world, its usages, its finesse
of feeling and manner, I could see that Emily was the superior. Had
I known more myself, I could have seen that both were provincial--for
England, in 1801, was but a province, as to mere manners, though on a
larger scale than America is even now--and that either would have been
remarked for peculiarities, in the more sophisticated circles of the
continent of Europe. I dare say, half my own countrymen would have
preferred Lucy's nature to the more artificial manner of Emily; but,
it will not do to say that even female deportment, however delicate and
feminine nature may have made it, cannot be improved by certain general
rules for the government of that which is even purely conventional. On
the whole, I wished that Lucy had a little of Emily's art, and Emily a
good deal more of Lucy's nature. I suppose the perfection in this sort
of thing is to possess an art so admirable that it shall appear to be
nature, in all things immaterial, while it leaves the latter strictly in
the ascendant, in all that is material.
In person, I sometimes fancied Emily was the superior, and, sometimes,
when memory carried me back to certain scenes that had occurred during
my last visit to Clawbonny, that it was Lucy. In complexion, and perhaps
in eyes, the English girl beat her rival; possibly, also, in the teeth;
though Lucy's were very even and white; but, in the smile, in the
outline of the face, most especially in the mouth, and in the hands,
feet, and person generally, I think nine judges in ten would have
preferred the American. One peculiar charm was common to both; and it is
a charm, though the strongest instance I ever saw of it in my life,
was in Italy, that may be said to belong, almost exclusively, to the
Anglo-Saxon race: I mean that expression of the countenance which so
eminently betokens feminine purity and feminine tenderness united; the
look which artists love to impart to the faces of angels. Each of the
girls had much of this; and I suppose it was principally owing to their
heavenly blue eyes. I doubt if any woman with black, or hazel eyes
notwithstanding all the brilliancy of their beauty, ever possessed this
charm in the higher degree. It belonged to Grace even more than to Lucy
or Emily; though, of the two last, I think the English girl possessed
it, in a slight degree, the most, so far as it was connected with mere
shading and colour; while the American exhibited the most of it, in
moments of feeling and emotion. Perhaps, this last advantage was owing
to Lucy's submitting most to nature, and to her impulses. It must be
remembered, however, that I had not seen Lucy, now, for near two
years; and two of the most important years of a young female's life, as
respected her personal appearance.
As relates to character, I will not now speak as plainly as I shall be
called on to do, hereafter. A youth of twenty is not the best judge of
such things, and I shall leave events to tell their own story, in this
particular.
We had been at sea a fortnight, when happening to allude to the pearl
fishery, I bethought me of my own prizes. A ship that carries a
numerous crew, is a sort of _omnium gatherum_, of human employments.
For ordinarily manned craft, seamen are necessary; but ships of war,
privateers and letters-of-marque, can afford, as poor Marble
would express it, to generalize. We had several tradesmen in the
Crisis--mechanics, who found the restraints of a ship necessary for
their own good--and, among others, we happened to have a goldsmith. This
man had offered to perforate my pearls, and to string them; an operation
to which I consented. The fellow had performed his task as well as could
be desired, and supplying from his own stores a pair of suitable clasps,
had formed the whole into a simple, but as beautiful a necklace, as I
ever laid eyes on. He had put the largest pearl of all directly in
the centre, and then arranged the remainder, by placing several of the
smaller together separated by one of the second size, until the whole
formed a row that would much more than encircle my own neck, and which,
of course, would drop gracefully round that of a female.
When I produced this beautiful ornament, one that a woman of rank
might have coveted, Emily did not endeavour to conceal her admiration.
Unaccustomed, herself, to the higher associations of her own country,
she had never seen a necklace of the same value, and she even fancied
it fit for a queen. Doubtless, queens usually possess much more precious
pearls than those of mine, and yet it was to be supposed they would not
disdain to wear even such as they. Major Merton examined the necklace
carefully, and I could see by his countenance, he was surprised and
pleased.
On the whole, I think it may be questioned, if any other man enjoys
as many _physical_ advantages with the same means, as the Americans.
I speak more of his habits, than of his opportunities; but I am of
opinion, after seeing a good deal of various parts of the world, that
the American of moderate fortune has more physical indulgences than any
other man. While this is true, however, as a whole, there are certain
points on which he signally fails. He fails _often_, when it comes to
the mere outward exhibition; and it is probable there is not a single
well-ordered household--meaning for the purposes of comfort and
representation united--in the whole country. The particular deficiency,
if deficiency it be, applies in an almost exclusive degree to the use
of precious stones, jewelry, and those of the more valuable metals in
general. The ignorance of the value of precious stones is so great, that
half the men, meaning those who possess more or less of fortune, do
not even know the names of those of the commoner sorts. I doubt, if one
educated American in twenty could, even at this moment, tell a sapphire
from an amethyst, or a turquoise from a garnet; though the women are
rather more expert as lapidaries. Now, I was a true American in this
respect; and, while I knew I possessed a very beautiful ornament, I had
not the smallest idea of its value, as an article of commerce. With the
Major it was different. He had studied such things, and he had a taste
for them. The reader will judge of my surprise, therefore, when I heard
him say:--
“That necklace, in the hands of Rundle and Bridges, would bring a
thousand pounds, in London!”
“Father!” exclaimed Emily.
“I do think it. It is not so much the size of the pearls, though these
largest are not common even in that particular, but it is their extreme
beauty; their colour and transparency--their _water_, as it is called.”
“I thought that a term applied only to diamonds”--observed Emily, with
an interest I wished she had not manifested.
“It is also applied to pearls--there are pearls of what is called the
'white water,' and they are of the sort most prized in Europe. The
'yellow water' are more esteemed among nations of darker skins; I
suppose that is the secret. Yes, I think if you send this necklace to
London, Wallingford, you will get six or eight hundred pounds for it.”
“I shall never sell it, sir--at least, not as long as I can avoid it.”
I saw that Emily looked at me, with an earnestness for which I could not
account.
“Not sell it!--” repealed her father--“Why, what in the name of Neptune
can _you_ do with such an ornament?”
“Keep it. It is strictly my own. I brought it up, from the bottom of the
sea, with my own hands; removed the pearls from what the editors would
call their 'native homes' myself, and I feel an interest in them, that I
never could feel in any ornament that was purchased.”
“Still, this will prove rather an expensive taste. Pray, What interest
do you obtain for money, in your part of the world, Wallingford?”
“Six per cent., in New York, sir, perhaps, on the better sort of
permanent securities.”
“And how much is sixty pounds sterling, when turned into dollars?”
“We usually say five for one, though it is not quite that; from
two hundred and eighty to two hundred and ninety, all things
considered--though two hundred and sixty-six, nominally, or
thereabouts.”
“Well, even two hundred and sixty-six dollars a year, is a good deal for
a young man like you to pay, for the pleasure of saying he owns a pearl
necklace that he cannot use.”
“But it cost me nothing, sir, and of course I can lose nothing by it.”
“I rather think you will lose what I tell you, if the ornament can be
sold for that sum. When a man has property from which he might derive an
income, and does not, he is, in one sense, and that the most important,
a loser.”
“I have a sister, Major Merton; I may possibly give it to her--or,
should I marry, I would certainly give it to my wife.”
I could see a smile struggling about the mouth of the major, which I
was then too young, and I may add, too American, to understand. The
incongruity of the wife of a man of two thousand, or five and twenty
hundred dollars a-year, wearing two years' income round her neck, or of
being magnificent in only one item of her dress, household, or manner
of living, never occurred to my mind. We can all laugh when we read of
Indian chiefs wearing uniform-coats, and cocked-hats, without any other
articles of attire; but we cannot imagine inconsistencies in our own
cases, that are almost as absurd in the eyes of highly sophisticated and
conventional usages. To me, at that age, there was nothing in the least
out of the way, in Mrs. Miles Wallingford's wearing the necklace, her
husband being unequivocally its owner. As for Emily, she did not smile,
but continued to hold the necklace in her own very white, plump hand,
the pearls making the hand look all the prettier, while the hand
assisted to increase the lustre of the pearls. I ventured to ask her to
put the necklace on her neck. She blushed slightly, but she complied.
“Upon my word, Emily,” exclaimed the gratified father, “you become each
other so well, that I am losing a prejudice, and begin to believe even a
poor man's daughter may be justified in using such an ornament.”
The sight was certainly sufficient to justify anything of the sort. The
dazzling whiteness of Miss Merlon's skin, the admirable outlines of
her throat and bust, and the flush which pleasure gave her cheeks,
contributed largely to the beauty of the picture. It would have been
difficult to say, whether the charms of the woman ornamented the pearls,
or those of the pearls ornamented the woman! I remember I thought, at
the time, my eyes had never dwelt on any object more pleasing, than was
Miss Merton during the novelty of that spectacle. Nor did the pleasure
cease, on the instant; for I begged her to continue to wear the necklace
during the remainder of the day; a request with which she had the good
nature to comply. Which was most gratified by this exhibition, the young
lady or myself, it might be difficult to say; for there is a mutual
satisfaction in admiring, and in being admired.
When I went into the cabin to say good-night, I found Emily Merton, with
the necklace in her hand, gazing at it, by the light of a powerful lamp,
with eyes as liquid and soft as the pearls themselves. I stood still to
admire her; for never before had I seen her so bewitchingly beautiful.
Her countenance was usually a little wanting in intellectual expression,
though it possessed so much of that which I have described as _angelic_;
but, on this occasion, _it seemed to me_, to be full of ideas. Can it
be possible, whispered conceit--and what very young man is entirely free
from it--can it be possible, she is now thinking how happy a woman Mrs.
Miles Wallingford will one day be?--Am I in any manner connected with
that meditating brow, that reflecting air, that fixed look, that pleased
and yet doubting expression?
“I was about to send for you, Captain Wallingford,” said Emily, the
instant she saw me, and confirming my conceited conjectures, by blushing
deeper than I had seen her before, in the whole of that blushing,
sensitive, and enjoyable day; “about to send for you, to take charge of
your treasure.”
“And could you not assume that much responsibility, for a single night?”
“'T would be too great--it is an honour reserved for Mrs. Wallingford,
you know.”
This was smilingly said, I fancied sweetly and kindly, and yet it was
said not altogether without something that approached to an _équivoque_;
a sort of manner that the deep, natural feeling of Grace, and
needle-like truth of Lucy had rendered unpleasant to me. I took the
necklace, shook the young lady's hand for good-night--we always did
that, on meeting and parting for the day--paid my compliments to the
father, and withdrew.
I was dressing next morning, when Neb came bolting into my state-room,
with his Clawbonny freedom of manner, his eyes looking lobsters, and
_his_ necklace of pearl, glittering between a pair of lips that
might have furnished a cannibal two famous steaks. As soon as fairly
established in command, I had brought the fellow aft, berthing him
in the steerage, in order to have the benefit of more of his personal
service than I could obtain while he was exclusively a foremast Jack.
Still, he kept his watch; for it would have been cruel to deprive, him
of that pleasure.
“Oh! Masser Mile!” exclaimed the black, as soon as he could speak; “'e
boat!--'e boat!”
“What of the boat?--Is any one overboard?”
“'E whale-boat, sir!--Poor Captain Marble--'e whale-boat, sir!”
“I understand you, Neb--go on deck, and desire the officer of the watch
to heave-to the ship, as soon as it is proper; I will come up, the
instant I can.”
Here, then, I thought, Providence has brought us on the track of the
unfortunate whale-boat; and we shall doubtless see the mutilated remains
of some of our old companions--poor Marble, doubtless, from what Neb
said--well, the will of God be done. I was soon dressed; and, as I went
up the cabin-ladder, the movement on deck denoted the nature of the
excitement that now prevailed generally, in the ship. Just as I reached
the quarter-deck, the main-yard swung round, and the sails were brought
aback. The whole crew was in commotion, and it was some little time
before I could learn the cause.
The morning was misty, and the view round the ship, until within a few
minutes, had been confined to a circle of less than a mile in diameter.
As the sun rose, however, the mist broke away gradually, and then the
watch caught a view of the whale-boat mentioned by Neb. Instead of being
floating about on the ocean, with the remains of its unfortunate crew
lying in its bottom, as I had expected to see it, when I caught the
first glimpse of the unlooked-for object, it was not a mile distant,
pulling briskly for us, and containing not only a full, but a strong and
an animated crew.
Just at that instant, some one cried out “Sail-ho!” and sure enough, a
ship was seen some four or five miles to leeward, a whaler evidently,
turning to windward, under easy canvass, in order to rejoin her boat,
from which she had lately been separated by the night and the fog.
This, then, was no more than a whaler and her boat; and, on sweeping the
horizon with a glass, Talcott soon discovered, a mile to windward of the
boat, a dead whale, with another boat lying by it, in waiting for the
approach of the ship, which promised to fetch as far to windward, on its
next tack.
“They desire to speak us, I suppose, Mr. Talcott,” I remarked. “The ship
is probably an American; it is likely the captain is in the boat, and he
wishes to send letters or messages home.”
A shout came from Talcott, at the next instant--then he cried out--
“Three cheers, my lads; I see Captain Marble in that boat, as plainly as
I see the boat itself!”
The cheers that followed, were a spontaneous burst of joy. They reached
the approaching boat, and gave its inmate an earnest of his reception.
In three more minutes. Marble was on the deck of his old ship. For
myself, I was unable to speak; nor was poor Marble much better off
though more prepared for the interview.
“I knew you, Miles; I knew you, and the bloody 'Pretty Poll,'” he at
last got out, the tears running down his cheeks like water, “the moment
the fog lifted, and gave me a fair glimpse. They've got her--yes--d----n
her--God bless her, I mean--they've got her, and the bloody Frenchmen
will not go home with _that_ feather in their caps. Well, it couldn't
have happened to a cleverer fellow; and I'm just as happy as if I had
done it myself!”
There he stood, sound, safe, and sturdy as ever; and the four Sandwich
Islanders were all in the boat, just as well as if they had never
quitted the ship. Every man of the crew had to shake hands with Marble,
congratulations were to be exchanged, and a turbulent quarter of an hour
passed, before it was possible to get a coherent account from the man of
what had befallen him. As soon as practicable, however, he motioned for
silence, and told his own story aloud, for the benefit of all hands.
“You know how I left you, men,” Marble commenced, swabbing his eyes and
cheeks, and struggling to speak with something like an appearance of
composure, “and the errand on which I went. The last I saw of you was
about half an hour before the gust broke. At that time I was so near the
ship, as to make out she was a whaler; and, nothing doubting of being
in sight of you in the morning, I thought it safer to pull alongside of
_her_, than to try to hunt for the schooner in the dark. I found an old
shipmate in the whaler's captain, who was looking for a boat that had
struck adrift the night before; and both parties were pleased. There was
not much time for compliments, however, as you all know. The ship bore
up to speak you, and then she bore up, again and again, on account of
the squalls. While Mr. Wallingford was probably hugging the wind in
order to find _me_, we were running off to save our spars; and next
morning we could see nothing of you. How else we missed each other, is
more than I can say; for I've no idee you went off and left me out here,
in the middle of the ocean--”
“We cruised for you, within five miles of the spot, for a whole day!” I
exclaimed, eagerly.
“No, no--Captain Marble,” the men put in, in a body, “we did all that
men could do, to find you.”
“I know it! I could swear to it, without a word from one of you. Well,
that's the whole story. We could not find you, and I stuck by the ship
as a matter of course, as there was no choice between that and jumping
overboard; and here has the Lord brought us together again, though we
are every inch of five hundred miles from the place where we parted.”
I then took Marble below, and related to him all that had occurred since
the separation. He listened with the deepest interest, manifesting
the strongest sympathy in our success. Nothing but expressions of
gratification escaped him, until I remarked, as I concluded my account--
“And here is the old ship for you, sir, just as we lost her; and glad am
I to see her once more in so good hands.”
“Who put that bloody poop on her, you or the Frenchman, Miles?”
“The Frenchman. Now it is peace, however, it is no great matter; and the
cabin is very convenient for the Major and his daughter.”
“It's just like 'em! Spoiling the neatest quarter-deck on the ocean,
with a bloody supernumerary cabin!”
“Well, sir, as you are master now, you can have it all cut away again,
if you think proper.”
“I! I cut away anything! I take the command of this ship from the man
who has so fairly won it! If I do, may I be d----d!”
“Captain Marble! You astonish me by this language, sir; but it
is nothing more than a momentary feeling, of which your own good
sense--nay, even your duty to the owners--will cause you to get rid.”
“You never were more mistaken in your life, Master Miles Wallingford,”
answered Marble, solemnly. “I thought of all this the moment I
recognised the ship, and that was as soon as I saw her; and my mind
was made up from that instant. I cannot be so mean as to come in at the
seventh hour, and profit by your courage and skill. Besides, I have no
legal right to command here. The ship was more than twenty-four hours in
the enemy's hands, and she comes under the usual laws of recapture and
salvage.”
“But the owners, Captain Marble--remember there is a cargo to be taken
in at Canton, and there are heavy interests at stake.”
“By George, that would make me so much the more firm. From the first, I
have thought matters would be better in your hands than mine; you have
an education, and that's a wonderful thing, Miles. As to sailing a ship,
or stowing her, or taking care of her in heavy weather, or finding my
way across an ocean, I'll turn my back on no man; but it's a different
thing when it comes to figures and calculations.”
“You disappoint me greatly in all this, sir; we have gone through so
much together--”
“We did not go through _the recapture of this vessel_ together, boy.”
“But it was _your_ thought, and, but for an accident, would have been
your _deed_.”
“I don't know that; I have reflected coolly in the matter, after I got
over my mortification; and I think we should have been flogged, had
we attacked the French at sea. Your own plan was better, and capitally
carried out. Harkee, Miles, this much will I do, and not a jot more.
You are bound to the island, I take it for granted, to pick up odds and
ends; and then you sail for Canton?”
“Precisely--I am glad you approve of it, as you must by seeing into it
so readily.”
“Well, at the island, fill up the schooner with such articles as will be
of no use at Canton. Let her take in the copper, the English goods, and
the like of that; and I will carry her home, while you can pursue the
v'y'ge in the ship, as you alone have a right to do.”
No arguments of mine could turn Marble from his resolution. I fought
him all day on the subject, and at night he was put in command of the
“Pretty Poll,” with our old second-mate for his first officer.