IN WHICH PHIL REACHES NEW YORK, MEETS THE GRACEWOODS, AND ABANDONS
CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE.
It was "all hands on deck" the rest of that night, and the gale came
with a fury which I had never seen before. I was second mate of the
bark; and, though it was not expected of me, I took the lead in reefing
and furling. I was ambitious to do my whole duty, and what I lacked
in experience I endeavored to make up in courage and resolution. The
captain and the veteran mate gave me a great deal of credit for my
exertions, and when the gale broke, I was tolerably well satisfied with
myself, as boys of eighteen generally are.
In the midst of the gale we transferred our prisoners to their old
quarters in the steerage, tied them as before, and placed a guard over
them. Captain Farraday said nothing, and seemed to be mourning the
loss of his rum. Waterford was sullen and silent; and I thought he had
abandoned all hope of escaping his fate, which was nothing less than
the penitentiary for a long term. The two Spanish gentlemen seemed to
take their lot more hardly than the others. They offered money, and
everything else they had to offer, if we would land them at one of the
West India or the Madeira Islands.
At noon the next day the gale broke, and after the storm came a
calm. We were glad of the quiet which followed, and within the next
twenty-four hours there was a great deal of heavy sleeping done on
board of the Michigan. We released the five Spanish and Portuguese
sailors, though without much regard to the solemn promises they made
us; for with the rum had gone their power to do mischief on board of
the vessel. We watched them closely, but we made them work.
"I ought to have let you leave the bark, Phil, when you wanted to do
so," said Waterford, as I called down to see the prisoners after the
gale.
"That was your blunder; and I have made more out of it than you have,"
I replied.
"I suppose you have divided the money before this time."
"No; we mean to be honest men; and we shall hand everything over to the
government officers."
"That don't include your fifteen hundred dollars--does it?"
"No; what is mine belongs to me, and the government officers have
nothing to do with my money, any more than they have with my clothes,"
I answered.
"There is gold in my trunk to the amount of about eight thousand
dollars," he continued.
"I know there is. Where did you get that gold, Waterford?"
"I bought it in St. Louis."
"With the money obtained on the forged checks?"
"Yes; I spoke for the gold at a broker's, and he had it all ready for
me. Then I presented my checks, and in less than fifteen minutes after
they were paid, I was on my way out of the city. My plans would have
worked well, if you had not crossed my path."
"Then the gold really belongs to the banks who paid the forged checks?"
"I suppose so. I have nothing more to expect in this world, and I don't
care what becomes of it."
I did not tell him that he had nothing to expect in the next world, any
more than in this, but that was the thought in my mind. His failure
to recover the bark had completely disheartened him, and, like others
whom I had seen under similar circumstances, he appeared to find relief
in confessing his error, or at least in pointing out the cause of the
miscarriage of his plans.
"Did you intend to rob me when you left St. Louis?" I asked.
"No; not exactly, though I knew you had the gold. I was afraid you
would see and recognize me. I watched you closely, without being seen
myself. I went to your trunk, and took your money when you were on the
hurricane deck of the steamer. I had decided to go mate of this vessel,
and went from New York to St. Louis to raise the money to enable me
to buy some negroes on my own account. I wanted all I could get, and
your gold was very convenient. I should have made a fortune out of this
voyage, and then I intended to go to Chicago, marry Marian Collingsby,
and be happy. You have spoiled my plan, and I have given up in despair."
"The plan was too wicked to succeed, even if you had not seen me.
If you had made your fortune out of the flesh and blood of your
fellow-beings, you would never have been happy with it; and Marian
would have married a boa constrictor rather than you. Men may seem to
succeed, but God never permits them really to do so, in such schemes."
"I am not quite ready to listen to any cant yet; I may be by and by,"
said he, bitterly. "You thwarted me once before, and I hated you. I
came with you all the way from Parkersburg. I wanted you in the same
vessel with me, for I knew, as you had lost your money, you must either
work your passage or return to St. Louis. When I met Captain Farraday,
I set him at work upon you, and succeeded in getting you on board of
the vessel. I wanted to punish you; but the tables are turned upon me,
and you are punishing me."
"I have no wish to punish you. For all the injury you have done me, and
have tried to do me, I forgive you."
"Will you let me escape?"
"No; I have a duty to the community which will not permit me to do
that."
"I don't understand your kind of forgiveness--that which would send a
man to prison for ten or twenty years."
"I can forgive the personal wrong you have done me, but I have no right
to throw a pirate upon the community--one who is willing to steal the
child from his father, the wife from her husband."
"There's no use in talking," he added, hopelessly.
"Certainly not, if you expect to escape through my agency."
I left him; and I felt that crime was pretty sure of its punishment,
even in this world.
But my story is really told. The rest of our passage was comfortable
and pleasant, and at daylight one morning in May, we came in sight of
Sandy Hook. We had all our prisoners safe, and our voyage was ended. We
took a pilot, and, as we were going through the Narrows, we overhauled
a handsome clipper ship, which had been in sight since daybreak.
The Michigan outsailed her; and, as we came up, I was surprised
and delighted to see upon her stern the word "Bayard," for this was
the ship in which the Gracewoods were to come home. I saw upon her
quarter-deck a gentleman and two ladies. One of them must be Ella, and
my heart was thrilled at the discovery. But how tall she had grown! We
took the ship's wind, and went by her. I hailed the party by name, and
shouted my own. Though they responded to my signals, I concluded that
they did not recognize me.
We ran up the bay, and anchored off the Battery, near where the revenue
cutter lay. Captain York, at my request, sent me on shore to give
information of the state of affairs on board to the proper authorities.
I found the United States marshal, and told my story in detail. He sent
a force to take possession of the vessel, and secure the prisoners.
Captain Farraday, Waterford, and the two Spanish passengers were taken
to the Tombs. Martino and his fellow-pirates were not arrested; they
were too small game. In the cabin nearly fifty thousand dollars in
gold was found; but I put in a claim for that in Waterford's trunk on
behalf of the banks of St. Louis which had paid the forged checks. The
present officers and crew were directed to hold themselves in readiness
to attend the examination of the slave traders.
The Bayard came up the harbor and anchored. As soon as I could leave
the Michigan, I hastened on board of her. The Gracewoods were going
on shore; but such a welcome as they extended to me gladdened my
heart. Ella gave me both hands, and blushed like a June rose. She had
not only grown tall, but handsome; and I was glad to know that she
still regarded me as kindly as ever. The health of Mrs. Gracewood was
completely restored, and my excellent friend and instructor seemed
to have grown younger since we parted four years before. I went on
shore with them, and it seemed to me I had never been so happy in my
life. I told Ella I was second mate of the bark, and she expressed her
astonishment so prettily that I felt rewarded for all the trials and
discouragements of the voyage, as well as for its triumphs. I went to
the hotel with my friends, and spent the rest of the day with them,
talking over the events of the past.
The slaveholders were examined and committed for trial. The bark was
taken possession of by the authorities, and the crew discharged. The
name and address of each man were taken, for they were deemed to be
entitled to a share in "the moiety of the vessel and her lading," after
she had been condemned and sold. I found my gold safe, and of course I
did not leave it in the bark. As we were not required for some time in
New York, I went to St. Louis with the Gracewoods. My father gave me a
warm welcome, of course, and so did all my other friends.
"I did not expect you back so soon, Philip," said he.
"O, I have only come back on a visit. I must go again in a short time;
for I intend to see my mother, if possible, before the summer is
ended," I replied, lightly.
"I suppose you consider yourself a sailor now."
"I ought to be; I came home second mate of the bark Michigan. I can
hand, reef, and steer; make a short splice, a long splice, an eye
splice, a cringle, a Turk's head; can worm, serve, and parcel."
"You have a briny look, as though you had just escaped from a pickle
barrel."
"O, I'm as salt as a red herring."
"I hope you have had enough of the sea."
"Enough as a sailor before the mast; but if ever I am a rich man, I
intend to have a yacht, and go round the world in her."
"I'm afraid you will never be rich enough to do that."
"If I am not I will not complain."
"You didn't make much on this cruise," laughed my father.
"In money probably two or three thousand dollars, and in experience and
knowledge as much more."
I explained my plans and views to my father; but as I intended to
go to Europe by steamer, as soon as I could get rid of the trial of
the slave traders, he offered no objection. I remained in St. Louis
a week, when the United States marshal wrote for me to appear in New
York. Before I went, I called on my friend Mr. Lamar, and told him
all about Waterford; and when I started, an agent of the banks went
with me to claim the money which the pirate had obtained from them by
forgery. This claim was established and allowed, and the loss of the
banks was made good to them. The trial of the slavers came on sooner
than I had reason to expect, and they were sentenced to three years'
imprisonment--which I thought was a very mild punishment.
The bark was condemned and sold, with all her stores and cargo, and,
including my share of the Spaniards' money, which was regarded as part
of the "lading," I had the handsome sum of twenty-five hundred dollars.
As we all fared alike in the division, my shipmates were willing to
acknowledge that, even in a pecuniary point of view, it was better to
do right than to do wrong. Sanderson and Baxter kept sober after they
went on shore, and both of them are now temperance men. Baxter is chief
mate of a large Indiaman, and Sanderson has retired to a little farm in
Maine, which he bought with his share of the prize-money. Of the rest
of the crew I know nothing; but I suppose most of them kept drunk till
they had spent all their money, or had been robbed of what they did not
spend, and then went to sea again; but I will venture to say that none
of them ever voluntarily served in a slave ship.
I was prepared for more sea swashes, for I liked the sea. I was ready
to sail for Europe as a passenger in a steamer. I hoped soon to find my
mother, and unite our little family under one roof in St. Louis. And
so, for a time, I abandoned CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE.
* * * * *
THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES.
1. _Field and Forest_; OR, THE FORTUNES OF A FARMER.
2. _Plane and Plank_; OR, THE MISHAPS OF A MECHANIC.
3. _Desk and Debit_; OR, THE CATASTROPHES OF A CLERK.
4. _Cringle and Cross-Tree_; OR, THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.
_IN PREPARATION._
5. _Bivouac and Battle_; OR, THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER.
6. _Sea and Shore_; OR, THE TRAMPS OF A TRAVELLER.