"CAPTAIN ENTICKNAPP."
It was the end of March before Sophia Jane was allowed to go
down-stairs. She had been ill six long weeks, and even now she was very
far from strong, and walked in a tottering manner like a little old
lady. Susan, much excited and pleased, hovered round her, anxious to be
useful and add to her comfort. She led her carefully to the large
arm-chair which she had dragged near the window, put a cushion at her
back and a footstool under her feet, and brought her a cup of beef-tea.
Sophia Jane looked out of the window and clapped her hands with
pleasure.
"How beautiful it is!" she exclaimed.
For the sun was shining very brightly, and all the crocuses in Aunt
Hannah's garden were in bloom--smart little soldiers in their trim
uniforms of purple, gold, and white, standing in rows amongst their
bristling green spears. There were tiny green leaves on all the
gooseberry bushes, the sky was blue, and it all looked like a fresh new
world to her after she had been shut up so long in one room.
"I may go out of doors to-morrow, mayn't I?" she asked eagerly as Aunt
Hannah came into the room. But Aunt shook her head.
"You must be patient, my dear," she said. "The sun is hot, but the wind
is in the east, and it is not really warm yet. The doctor says we must
be careful not to risk a chill. Susan must think of something to amuse
you in-doors."
"I know something she would like," said Susan. She nodded her head
towards the portrait over the mantelpiece, and the gentleman in the
pig-tail seemed to answer her glance with his kind blue eyes.
"You promised long ago you would tell us a story about him--a true one.
We should both like that."
"Perhaps I will this evening," replied Aunt Hannah; "but you must amuse
Sophia Jane quietly until then, and be careful not to tire her."
This Susan readily promised, and looked forward with great pleasure to
the evening, not only because she was extremely fond of hearing a story,
but because she had gradually come to take a good deal of interest in
Captain Enticknapp. He was her mother's aunt's father, and therefore
Susan's great-grandfather, and it was wonderful to think how long ago he
lived, and what strange things he must have seen and done. The
sitting-room, and indeed the whole house, was full of objects he had
brought home from his different voyages: oddly shaped-cups and bowls and
dishes of blue china, ivory carvings, and curious inlaid snuff-boxes.
There was one idol Susan specially liked. He was made of sandalwood,
and sat cross-legged in the middle of the mantelpiece just under the
portrait. His forehead was high and shining, and his expression
benevolent; here and there, he had been chipped and notched, so that one
might smell the fragrance of the wood. In her own mind Susan had given
him the name of Robin Grey, which she thought seemed to suit his face.
He was the nicest of all the idols, and there were a great many of all
kinds.
Captain Enticknapp's blue eyes looked quietly down from the picture upon
all these things, and also upon sundry of his personal possessions which
had gone on many and many a voyage with him, and seen rough weather in
his company. There stood the square camphor-wood chest which had fitted
into his cabin, and since its last journey had remained here in the calm
retreat of Aunt Hannah's sitting-room. There was his great watch,
double cased, with a hole through it; made, Susan had heard, by a bullet
which might have killed Captain Enticknapp if it had not struck against
the watch first. There, too, was the snuff-box he had always carried.
It was a flat silver one, with portraits of Queen Anne and Dr
Sacheverel engraved upon it; but they were so faint now with age, and
the constant pressure of the captain's thumb that they could hardly be
traced.
These things served to keep her great-grandfather and his voyages and
adventures constantly before Susan's mind, and she thought of him very
often. At night, when the wind was high, and she heard the great waves
tossing and tumbling on the shore, she liked to fancy him far out at sea
in his ship, and to wonder if he ever felt afraid. When Aunt Hannah
read prayers she came to a verse in the Psalms sometimes, which seemed
quite to belong to him:
"Such as go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great
waters; these men see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the
deep."
That was just what Captain Enticknapp had done, and Susan had now made
up so many stories about him in her head, that she was very glad to
think she was really to hear a true one at last.
Aunt Hannah did not forget her promise, and that evening, Margaretta and
Nanna being away, and the children comfortably settled near the fire,
she took up her knitting and began as follows:
"You both know that the old watch I have shown you sometimes, with holes
through the case, belonged to my father, Captain John Enticknapp. I am
going to tell you the story of how those holes were made, and how that
watch and the gratitude of a man were once the means of saving his life.
It happened long ago, when I was a little girl of Susan's age, and
lived with my father and mother in a house on the river at Wapping."
The children gazed at Aunt Hannah. She wore a front and a cap; her face
was wrinkled. What did she look like when she was a little girl of
Susan's age?
"You know, Susan," continued she, looking up at the portrait, "that
Captain Enticknapp was your great-grandfather, and I daresay it seems
impossible to you to think of him as young as as he was when that
picture was painted."
"Was he young?" asked Sophia Jane. "Then, why has he got grey hair?"
"That is not grey hair, my dear, it is powder; nearly every one who
could afford to pay the tax wore powder in those days. When that
picture was done my father was only thirty-five years old. Well, as I
told you, we lived at Wapping, on the banks of the river Thames, close
to the great London Docks. Since then other docks have been built, and
Wapping is no longer such an important place; but then it was the chief
entrance for shipping, and nearly all the great merchantmen came in
there with their cargoes, or started thence for foreign countries. Many
large vessels lay there for months at a time to be refitted, and as our
house stood close to the water's-edge you could see from its windows all
that went on, and all the different crafts and barges which passed on
the river. When you wished to go anywhere by water you had only to step
down a narrow flight of stone stairs outside, get into a boat, and be
rowed where you pleased, and this was a very pleasant way of travelling
and cost little. At that time few lived at Wapping but sea-faring
people, and those who owned great wharfs, and had to do with merchandise
and shipping. My father was in the merchant service, well-known for his
successful voyages, and always to be trusted to carry through a matter
honourably and well. He was a man of his word, firm and true, and one
who would look neither to right or left, but go straight on where his
duty led. When you think of your great-grandfather, Susan, you can
always feel proud of this; there is nothing better than to have had
people belonging to us in the past who have been high-minded and good.
He was, of course, often absent from us for months at a time, and had
much to tell us about his voyages when he returned. He was the first to
take out a gang of convicts in the ship _Scarborough_, and land them in
the place which was afterwards called Botany Bay, then a wild and
desolate country; this happened in the year 1788, when a new law was
passed to establish a penal settlement in Australia with a governor at
its head. Until then convicts had been sent to America and the West
Indies. The account of this landing always interested me very much;
but, on his second voyage to Australia, there happened to my father such
a strange adventure, and such a narrow escape from a dreadful death that
I never wearied of hearing about it, and it is now as fresh in my memory
as if he had just told it to me. This is how it came to pass. It was
in the spring of 1789, when he had been at home with us for a month,
that he received orders to start for the colony with a second lot of 200
convicts, some to be taken on board at Woolwich, and some at Portsmouth;
he was afterwards to proceed to China for a cargo of tea, and would
therefore be away a long, long time. The whole household was sorry for
this, because we all missed his cheerful companionship; but my mother
grieved most of all, for she understood better than we did, the dangers
he would go through, and felt each time he left her, that she might
never see him again. But she showed her trouble as little as she could
until he was out of her sight, so that he might go on his way with a
good heart, and not be too much cast down at leaving us alone.
"Well, he got down to Portsmouth, and the convicts came on board,
looking at the first glance all very much alike, with their cropped
heads and their prison clothes. But this was not really so, there was a
great difference between them; for some were men of education and some
were ignorant; some were brutal and wicked by nature, and others only
weak and foolish; some were stupid, and others clever, and each of these
things stamps its own expression on the face and form.
"As my father stood on the quay watching the men as they passed him,
someone tapped him on the shoulder, and turning he saw a certain Major
Grose standing there.
"`Captain Enticknapp,' he said; `a word with you about one of those men.
Notice the one standing fourth from us now; his name is Birt. I know
him well and his father too. He can be trusted; it is misfortune rather
than vice which has brought him to this evil pass. If you can, allow
him some privileges, and show him kindness during the voyage. You will
do me a service if you will bear this in mind.'
"Now my father was a man only too ready to think well of others, and to
do them a kindness if possible, so he willingly promised, and observed
Birt closely that he might know him again. He was a slight young fellow
of about twenty, with delicate features and large melancholy eyes which
he bent on the ground; so shame-faced and sad looking, and such a
contrast in his bearing to the recklessness of many of the other men,
that my father's heart was at once touched with pity for him.
"On the voyage he took every possible occasion of being kind to Birt,
and allowed him the privilege of being on deck all day instead of only
two hours like the rest of the convicts. He also lent him books,
encouraged him to talk of his troubles, and by degrees learned the whole
story of his misfortunes. Now, in doing this my father became fond of
him, for to bestow benefits on anyone is a sure way to make a friendly
feeling towards them, and as for Birt he would have done anything to
serve the captain and show his gratitude. Very soon this chance was
given to him.
"At night the convicts were all locked down under hatches and sentinels
placed over them. The men lay six in a berth, and it so happened that
one of these disclosed to Birt a plot that forty of them had made and
signed with their blood. Would he join them and have his share of the
prize?
"Now Birt dared not say no, for he feared for his life amongst those
desperate men.
"`Before I say that I will,' he replied, `I must know your plan. How is
it possible to seize the ship when such a good look-out is kept?'
"Then the convict told him all that had been settled by the mutineers.
At four o'clock when the hatches were raised most of the officers went
to their cabins, and there would be more than twenty convicts on deck
who were all in the plot. They would then knock down the sentinels, get
possession of the quarter-deck, and seize the firearms which were ready
loaded. They would next release their other comrades and alter the
course of the ship.
"`But what,' asked Birt, `will you do with the captain, officers, and
soldiers?'
"`We will kill the captain,' replied the wretch, `and put his head at
the main topgallant masthead--and we will put the first-mate's head at
the mizzen, and the boatswain's at the fore. The other convicts who are
not with us in the matter we shall put on shore at some island, and
leave them to shift for themselves, they are worth nothing. The ship is
a good prize, for the captain has a large sum of money on board to take
out for the East India Company. These things done, we shall kill the
great hog, and with plenty of drink we shall have a good time of it. Do
you join us?'
"Birt consented, for he dared not do otherwise; but all night long he
thought, and thought, and wondered how to get the plot to the captain's
knowledge. He was determined to save his life and that of the crew; but
it was not an easy matter, for he knew that the convicts would now watch
him narrowly and that he must not be seen talking to any of the
officers. The only thing to do was to put it down in writing and get it
somehow into their hands. But how to write it, when he was never a
moment alone? and it must be done the next day.
"At last after much puzzling he hit upon a plan.
"In the morning when he went on deck he washed a shirt and took it up to
the foretop to dry. Now the foretop is a place high up in the rigging
of the ship, a very giddy height indeed, and when a man is there he is
really almost out of sight and it is impossible to see what he is doing
from the deck. Birt had a little pocket book with him, and in it, as he
sat on the foretop, he wrote down all he knew about the intended mutiny.
When he went below he hoped to get a chance of slipping it into the
captain's hand, or of putting it where he would be likely to find it.
"But luck was against him, for he could not get near the captain the
whole of that day, and there were keen eyes always fastened upon him by
the convicts, who were on deck by fifty at a time, and watched each
other closely for fear of treachery. Amongst each fifty there were
always some who were in the plot, and if they had suspected Birt of
betraying them they would have made short work of him, and this he knew
very well. Evening came, and still he had been able to do nothing. The
next morning at four o'clock the bloody deed was to be done. He paced
the deck to and fro, to and fro, almost in despair, and yet determined
to venture something for the captain's sake. Then he noticed that the
first-mate was in the hold, serving out water, and suddenly an idea came
into Birt's head. He pretended to stumble, threw himself right down the
hatchway as though by accident, and fell a distance of sixteen feet into
the hold. As you may imagine all was immediately stir and excitement,
for at first they thought he was killed--and, indeed, he was badly
bruised, having fallen on to a water-cask. In the bustle, however, he
managed to slip the book into the mate's hand, and the thing was done.
The surgeon was sent for and they got him up on deck, where, while his
hurts were being looked to, he had the satisfaction of seeing the mate
go aft and then into the captain's cabin.
"Promptly the soldiers were ordered up, but when the convicts on deck
found their plot discovered they did not yield without a struggle. It
was a short but a violent one, for in the confusion they got hold of
some fire arms and fought desperately. The captain was twice wounded,
and it was then that the old watch you see there had its share in saving
his life. For the bullet, striking against the case and passing through
it, was thus lessened in force, and did not reach a vital part of the
body. It was, nevertheless, a serious hurt, and caused him much
suffering, for it was some days before the bit of metal could be
extracted from the wound.
"Meanwhile the convicts, being overpowered, were secured under hatches
again, and the captain then made Birt point out the ringleaders and the
most desperate of the men, which he did to the number of thirteen.
These were placed in irons for the rest of the voyage, and when the
vessel arrived at Port Jackson it was supposed they would have been
hanged. But the governor declaring that it was not in his power to do
so, they were registered to be kept in irons, chained two and two
together, all their lives long.
"And thus this wicked plot was found out, and those wicked men punished,
and thus it pleased Heaven to preserve your great-grandfather's life--
first by reason of the gratitude and devotion of Mr Birt, and secondly
through his stout old watch which did him good service and turned aside
the enemy's bullet."
Aunt Hannah paused, and looked up at the picture again.
"But," said Susan, "what became of Mr Birt?"
"He was pardoned," replied my aunt, "on the representation of my
father--because of the service he had rendered in saving the ship and
crew at the risk of his own life."
"I'm glad of that," said Sophia Jane; "because it was so very good of
him to tumble down the hatchway."
"He never returned to England," continued Aunt Hannah, "but settled in
China, where I believe he prospered and became at last a rich man. My
father often heard from him and always spoke of him with affection."
"That's a very nice story, indeed," said Susan. "I'm sorry it's over."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The account of the convicts' mutiny is taken from the Unpublished diary
of Captain John Marshall, In command of the ship _Scarborough_ at the
time.