The mariner's chart
He knew by heart,
And every current, rock, and shore,
From the drifting sand
Off Newfoundland,
To the son-split cliffs of Singapore.
Captain Pike.
Lord Charles Frobisher was never a very talkative companion, and as
Cashel's present mood was not communicative, they drove along, scarcely
interchanging a sentence, till the harbor of Kingstown came in sight,
and with it the gay pennons that fluttered from the mast of Roland's
schooner.
“I suppose that is your yacht,--the large craft yonder?”
“I hope so,” said Cashel, enthusiastically; “she sits the water like a
duck, and has a fine rakish look about her.”
“So, then, you never saw her before?”
“Never. I purchased her from description, taking her crew, commander,
and all, just as she sailed into Southampton from Zante, a month ago.
They sent me a drawing of her, her measurement, tonnage, and draught
of water, as also the log of her run in the Mediterranean;--yes, that's
she, I can recognize the water-line from the sketch.”
“Is your visit on board going to be a long one?” drawled out Lord
Charles, languidly; “for I own I am not the least aquatic, and were it
not for lobsters and whitebait I vote the sea a humbug.”
“Then I 'll say good-bye,” said Cashel. “That blue water, that curling
ripple, and the fluttering of that bunting, have set me a-thinking about
a hundred things.”
“You 'll dine with us at seven, won't you?”
“No, I 'll dine on board, or not dine at all,” said he, as he sprang
from the carriage, and, waving his hand in adieu, made his way to the
harbor. Taking the first boat that offered, Cashel rowed out to the
yacht, just in time to catch Lieutenant Sickleton, who, in full
yacht costume, was about to wait on his principal. He was a bluff,
good-natured, blunt fellow, who, having neither patronage nor interest
in the service, had left the wardroom for the easier, but less
ambitious, life of a yacht commander; a thoroughly good seaman, and
brave as a lion, he saw himself reduced to a position almost menial from
hard and galling necessity. He had twice been to Alexandria with touring
lords, who, while treating him well in all essentials, yet mingled so
much of condescension in their courtesy as to be all but unendurable. He
had gone to America with a young Oxford man, the son of a great London
brewer, whose overbearing insolence he had been obliged to repel by
a threat of personal consequences. He had taken an invalid family to
Madeira, and a ruined duke to Greece, and was now, with the yacht
and its company, transferred to Cashel's hands, not knowing--scarce
caring--with whom or where his future destinies were to be cast.
The Freemasonry of the sea has a stronger tie than the mere use of
technicals. Cashel was not ten minutes on board ere Sickleton and he
were like old acquaintances. The “Lucciola” was, in Skeleton's ideas,
the best thing that ever ran on a keel; there was nothing she could n't
do,--fair weather or foul. She could outsail a Yankee smack in a gale
off the coast of Labrador, or beat a felucca in the light winds off the
Gulf of Genoa. If these tidings were delightful to Cashel's ears,--the
most exciting and heart-stirring he had listened to for many a day,--the
gratification was no less to Sickleton that he was about to sail with
one who really loved the sea, and thoroughly understood and could value
the qualities of his noble craft.
From the vessel, they turned the conversation to all the possible places
the world's map afforded for a cruise. Sickleton's experiences were
chiefly Eastern,--he knew the Mediterranean as well as he did the Downs;
while Cashel's could vie with him in both coasts of the great Spanish
peninsula, and all the various channels of the West India islands.
For hours they sat discussing soundings, the trade winds, and
shore currents, with all the bearings of land points, bluffs, and
lighthouses. In talk, they visited half the globe; now staggering under
a half-reefed topsail in the Bay of Biscay, now swimming along, with
winged and stretching sails, under the blue cliffs of Baia.
“I 'm sure I don't know how you ever could lead a shore life,” said
Sickleton, as Cashel described with warm enthusiasm some passages of his
rover's existence.
“Nor do I understand how I have borne it so long,” said Cashel;
“its dissipations weary, its deceits provoke me. I have lost--if not
all--great part of that buoyancy which mingled peril and pleasure
create, and I suppose, in a month or two more, I should be about as
apathetic, as indolent, and as selfish as any fine gentleman ought to
be. Ah, if we had a war!”
“That's it,--that's what I say every day and every night: if we had
a war, the world would be worth living, in or dying for. Fellows like
myself, for instance, are never thought of in a peace; but they 'look
us all out,'--just as they do a storm-jib, when it comes on to blow. No
laughing a man out of position, then,--no, faith!”
“How do you mean?” said Cashel, who saw in the intense expression of the
speaker how much the words covered.
“Just what happened to myself,--that's all,” said Sickleton; “but if you
like to hear how,--the story is n't long, or any way remarkable,--we 'll
have a bit of luncheon here, and I'll tell it to you.”
Cashel willingly assented, and very quickly a most appetizing meal made
its appearance in the cabin, to which Sickleton did the honors most
creditably.
“I 'm impatient for that anecdote you promised me,” said Cashel, as the
dessert made its appearance, and they sat in all the pleasant enjoyment
of social ease.
“You shall hear it,--though, as I said before, it's not much of a story
either; nor should I tell it, if I did n't see that you feel a sort of
interest about myself--unhappily, its hero.”
“I 'll not weary you by telling you the story that thousands can repeat,
of a service without patronage, no sooner afloat than paid off again,
and no chance of employment, save in a ten-gun brig off the coast of
Guinea, and I suppose you know what that is?”
Cashel nodded, and Sickleton went on:--
“Well, I passed as lieutenant, and went through my yellow fever in the
Niger very creditably. I was the only one of a ship's company in the
gun-room on the way back to England, after a two years' cruise; I
suppose because life was less an object to me than the other fellows,
who had mothers, and sisters, and so on. So it was, I brought the old
'Amphion' safe into dock, and was passed off to wander about the world,
with something under forty pounds in my pocket, and a 'good-service
letter' from the Admiralty--a document that costs a man some trouble
to gain, but that would not get you a third-class place in the rail to
Croydon, when you have it. What was I to do?--I had no interest for the
Coast-Guard. I tried to become keeper of a lighthouse, but failed. It
was no use to try and be a clerk--there were plenty of fellows, better
qualified than myself, walking the streets supperless. So I set myself a
thinking if I could n't do something for 'the service' that might get
me into notice, and make the 'Lords' take me up. There was one chap made
his fortune by 'round sterns,' though they were known in the Dutch Navy
for two centuries. There was another invented a life-boat; a third, a
new floating buoy--and so on. Now I 'm sure I passed many a sleepless
night thinking of something that might aid me; at one time it was a
new mode of reefing topsails in a gale; at another it was a change in
signalizing the distant ships of a squadron; now an anchor for rocky
bottoms; now a contrivance for lowering quarter-boats in a heavy
sea--till at last, by dint of downright thought and perseverance, I did
fall upon a lucky notion. I invented a new hand-pump, applicable
for launches and gun-boats,--a thing greatly wanted, very simple of
contrivance, and easy to work. It was a blessed moment, to be sure, when
my mind, instead of wandering over everything from the round top to the
taffrail, at last settled down on this same pump!
“It was not mere labor and study this invention caused me. No! it
swallowed up nearly every shilling of my little hoard. I was obliged to
make a model, and what with lead and zinc, and solder and leather, and
caoutchouc and copper, I was very soon left without 'tin;' but I had
hope, and hope makes up for half rations! At last, my pump was perfect;
the next thing was to make it known. There was no use in trying this
through any unprofessional channels. Landsmen think that as they pay for
the navy, they need not bother their heads about it further. 'My lords,'
I knew well, would n't mind me, because my father was n't in Parliament,
and so I thought of one of those magazines that devote themselves to
the interests of the two services, and I wrote a paper accordingly,
and accompanied it by a kind of diagram of my pump. I waited for
a month--two--three months--but heard nothing, saw nothing of my
invention. I wrote, but could get no answer; I called, but could see
no editor; and at last was meditating some personal vengeance, when I
received a note. It was then much after midsummer, few people in town,
and the magazines were printing anything--as no one reads them in the
dog-days--stating that if Lieutenant Sickleton would procure a woodcut
of his pump, the paper descriptive of it should appear in the next
number. That was a civil way of asking me for five pounds; but help
there was none, and so I complied.
“At length I read in the list of the contents, 'Lieutenant Sickleton's
New Hand Pump, with an Illustration'--and my heart bounded at the words.
It was the nineteenth article--near the end of the number. I forget what
the others were--something, of course, about Waterloo, and Albuera, and
the Albert chako, and such-like stuff. My pump, I knew, put it where
they would, was _the_ paper of the month. This feeling was a little
abated on finding that, as I walked down Fleet Street on the day
of publication, I did n't perceive any sign of public notice or
recognition; no one said as I passed, 'That's Sickleton, the fellow who
invented the new pump.' I remembered, however, that if my _pump_ was
known, _I_ was not as yet, and that though the portrait of my invention
had become fame, my own was still in obscurity.
“I betook myself to the office of the journal, expecting there at least
to find that enthusiastic reception the knowledge of my merits must
secure, but hang me, if one of the clerks--as to the editor, there was
no seeing him--took the slightest trouble about me. I told him, with, I
trust, a pardonable swelling of the bosom, that I was 'Sickleton.' I
did n't say the famous Sickleton, and I thought I was modest in the
omission; but he was n't in the least struck by the announcement, and I
quitted the place in disgust.
“Worse than all, when I came to read over my paper, I found, by the
errors of the press, that the whole diagram was spoiled. The letters had
been misplaced, and the fiend himself, if he wanted it, couldn't work
my pump. You see that C D represented the angular crank, F was the
stop-cock, and T the trigger that closed the piston. Hang me, if they
did n't make F the trigger, and instead of B being the cistern, it was
made the jet; so that when you began to work, all the water squirted
through the sluices at OPQ over the operator. I went nearly mad. I wrote
a furious letter to the editor; I wrote another to the 'Times;' I wrote
to the 'Globe,' the 'Post,' and the 'Herald.' I explained, I elucidated,
I asked for the Englishman's birthright, as they call it--'Justice'--but
no use! In fact, my reclamations could only be inserted as
advertisements, and would cost me about a hundred pounds to publish.
So I sat down to grieve over my invention, and curse the hour I ever
thought of serving my country.
“It was about six months after this--I had been living on some relations
nearly as poor as myself--when I one day received an order to 'wait at
the Admiralty the next morning.' I went, but without hope or interest.
I could n't guess why I was sent for, but no touch of expectancy made me
anxious for the result.
“I waited from eleven till four in the ante-room; and at last, after
some fifty had had audiences, Lieutenant Sickleton was called. The time
was I would have trembled at such an interview to the very marrow of my
bones. Disappointment, however, had nerved me now, and I stood as much
at ease and composed as I sit here.
“'You are Mr. Sickleton?' said the First Lord, who was a 'Tartar.'
“'Yes, my Lord.'
“'You invented a kind of pump--a hand-pump for launches and small craft,
I think?'
“'Yes, my Lord.'
“'You have a model of the invention, too?'
“'Yes, my Lord.'
“'Can you describe the principle of your discovery? is there anything
which, for its novelty, demands the peculiar attention of the
Admiralty?'
“'Yes--at least I think so, my Lord,' said I, the last embers of hope
beginning to flicker into a faint flame within. 'The whole is so simple,
that I can, with your permission, make it perfectly intelligible even
here. There is a small double-acting piston--'
“'Confound the fellow! don't let him bore us, now,' said Admiral M------
in a whisper quite loud enough for me to overhear it. 'If it amuse his
Majesty, that's enough. Tell him what's wanted, and let him go.'
“'Oh, very well,' said the First Lord, who seemed terribly afraid of his
colleague. 'It is the king's wish, Mr. Sickleton, that your invention
should be tested under his Majesty's personal inspection, and you are
therefore commanded to present yourself at Windsor on Monday next, with
your model, at eleven o'clock. It is not very cumbrous, I suppose?'
“'No, my Lord. It only weighs four and a half hundredweight.'
“'Pretty well for a model; but here is an order for a wagon. You
'll present this at Woolwich.' He bowed and turned his back, and I
retreated.
“Sharp to the hour of eleven I found myself at Windsor on the following
Monday. It was past two, however, before his Majesty could see me. There
were audiences and foreign ambassadors, papers to read, commissions to
sign--in fact, when two o'clock came, the king had only got through a
part of his day's work, and then it was luncheon-time. This was over
about three; and at last his Majesty, with the First Lord, two admirals,
and an old post-captain, who, by the way, had once put me in irons
for not saluting his Majesty's guard when coming up to the watch at
midnight, appeared on the terrace.
“The place selected for the trial was a neat little parterre outside one
of the small drawing-rooms. There was a fountain supplied by two running
streams, and this I was to experiment upon with my new pump. It was
trying enough to stand there before such a presence; but the uppermost
thought in my mind was about my invention, and I almost forgot the
exalted rank of my audience.
“After due presentation to his Majesty, and a few common-place questions
about where I had served, and how long, and so on, the king said, 'Come
now, sir. Let us see the pump at work, for we haven't much time to
lose.'
“I immediately adjusted the apparatus, and when all was ready, I looked
about in some dismay, for I saw no one to assist the working. There were
present, besides the king and the three naval officers, only two fellows
in full-dress liveries, a devilish sight more pompous-looking than the
king or the First Lord. What was to be done? It was a dilemma I had
never anticipated; and in my dire distress, I stepped back and whispered
a word to old Admiral Beaufort, who was the kindest-looking of the
party.
“'What is he saying?--what does he want?' said the king, who partly
overheard the whisper.
“'Mr. Sickleton remarks, your Majesty, that he will need assistance to
exhibit his invention--that he requires some one to work the pump.'
“'Then why did n't he bring hands with him?' said the king, testily. 'I
suppose the machine is not self-acting, and that he knew that before he
came here.'
“I thought I 'd have fainted at this rebuke from the lips of royalty
itself, and so I stammered out some miserable excuse about not
knowing if I were empowered to have brought aid--my ignorance of court
etiquette--in fact, I blundered--and so far, that the king cut me short
by saying, 'Take those people there, sir, and don't delay us;' pointing
to the two gentlemen in cocked hats, bags, and swords, that looked as if
they could have danced on my grave with delight.
“In a flurry--compared to which a fever was composure--I instructed my
two new assistants in the duty, and stationing myself with the hose to
direct the operation of the jet, I gave the word to begin. Well! instead
of a great dash of water spurting out some fifty feet in height, and
fizzing through the air like a rocket, there came a trickling, miserable
dribble, that puddled at my very feet! I thought the sucker was
clogged--the piston stopped--the valves impeded--twenty things did I
fancy--but the sober truth was, these gilded rascals would n't do more
than touch the crank with the tips of their fingers, and barely put
sufficient force in the pressure to move the arm up and down. 'Work it
harder--put more strength to it,' I whispered, in mortal fear to be
overheard, but they never minded me in the least Indeed, I almost think
one fellow winked his eye ironically when I addressed him.
“'Eh--what!' said the king, after ten minutes of an exhibition that were
to me ten years at the galleys, 'these pumps do next to nothing. They
make noise enough, but don't bring up any water at all.'
“The First Lord shook his head in assent. Old Beaufort made me a sign to
give up the trial, and the post-captain blurted out, in a half-whisper,
something about a 'blundering son of a dog's wife' that nearly drove me
mad.
“'I say, Sickleton,' said the king, 'your invention's not worth the
solder it cost you. You couldn't sprinkle the geraniums yonder in three
weeks with it.'
“'It's all the fault of these d----d buffers, please your Majesty,' said
I, driven clean out of my senses by failure and disgrace--and, to be
sure, as hearty a roar of laughter followed as ever I listened to in
my life--'if they 'd only bear a hand and work the crank as I showed
them--' As I spoke, I leaned over and took hold of the crank myself,
letting the hose rest on my shoulder.
“With two vigorous pulls I filled the pistons full, and, at the third,
rush went the stream with the force of a Congrève--not, indeed, over the
trees, as I expected, but full in the face of the First Lord; scarcely
was his cry uttered, when a fourth dash laid him full upon his back,
drenched from head to foot, and nearly senseless from the shock. The
king screamed with laughing--the admiral shouted--the old post-captain
swore--and I, not knowing one word of all that was happening behind my
back, worked away for the bare life, till the two footmen, at a signal
from the admiral, laid hold of me by main force, and dragged me away,
the perspiration dripping from my forehead, and my uniform all in rags
by the exertion.
[Illustration: 346]
“'Get away as fast as you can, sir,' whispered old B., 'and thank God
if your day's work only puts you at the end of the list.' I followed the
counsel--I don't know how--I never could recollect one event from that
moment till I awoke the next morning at my aunt's cottage at Blackwall,
and saw my coat in tatters, and the one epaulette hanging by a thread;
then I remembered my blessed invention, and I think I showed good pluck
by not going clean out of my mind.”
There was an earnestness in poor Sickleton's manner that effectually
repressed any mirth on Cashel's part--indeed, his sense of the ludicrous
gave way before his feeling of sorrow for the hard fortune of the man
without a friend. In the partial civilization of the far west, personal
prowess and energy were always enough to secure any man's success; but
here, each day's experience taught him how much was to be laid to the
score of family--of fortune--name--address--and the thousand other
accessories of fortune. He had just begun to express his wonder that
Sickleton had never tried life in the New World, when the mate appeared
at the cabin-door to say that a shore boat was rowing out to the yacht.
A movement of impatience broke from Sickleton. “More of 'em, I suppose,”
cried he; “we've had such a lot of sight-seers this morning, since we
dropped anchor! most of them affecting to be intimate friends of yours,
and all so well acquainted with your habits of life, that I should have
become perfectly informed on every particular of your private history
only by listening.”
“The chances are,” broke in Cashel, “I did not personally know a man
amongst them.”
“I half suspect as much. They spoke far too confidently to be authentic.
One would have it you were half ruined already, and had got the yacht
over to clear away, and be off. Another, that you were going to be
married to a lady with an immense fortune,--a rumor contradicted by a
third saying it was an attorney's daughter without a shilling.”
“There's a lady, I see, sir, coming on board,” said the mate, putting in
his head once more.
“I 'd swear there was,” growled Sickleton.
“You give them luncheon, I hope?” said Cashel, smiling at the other's
impatience.
“Yes; we've had something like an ordinary here, today, and as I heard
that to-morrow would be busier still, I have had my boat going backwards
and forwards all the morning to prepare.”
“I am desired to show you this card, sir,” said the mate, handing one to
Sickleton, who passed it to Cashel.
“Lord Kilgoff--indeed!” said he, surprised, and at once hastened to the
deck.
“Mr. Cashel himself here!” exclaimed my Lady, from the stern of a small
boat alongside; and after an exchange of friendly recognition, the party
ascended the gangway. “This was a pleasure we scarcely looked for, to
meet you here,” said his Lordship, blandly. “We had just taken our drive
down to the harbor, when accidentally hearing your yacht had arrived,
Lady Kilgoff grew desirous to see it.”
“A yacht in harbor is a horse in stable,” said Cashel. “Will you permit
me to give you a cruise?”
“I should like nothing in the world so well.”
“It is late--almost six o'clock,” said Lord Kilgoff, looking at his
watch.
“And if it be,” said my Lady, coaxingly, “you know Dr. Grover
recommended you the sea air and sea excursions. I declare you look
better already, don't you think so, Mr. Cashel?” “I protest I do,” said
Cashel, thus appealed to; “and if you will only pardon the deficiencies
of a floating cuisine, and dine here--”
“How delightful!” broke in my Lady, not suffering even time for an
apology.
“It appeared to me there was a haunch of venison hanging over the stern
when we came on board?” said my Lord, with his glass to his eye.
“Yes, my Lord,” said Sickleton, touching his hat in salutation; “I've
had it there for two hours every day since Tuesday week.”
“And is the wind, and the tide, and everything else as it should be, Mr.
Cashel?” said Lady Kilgoff.
“Everything--when you have only uttered your consent,” said he,
gallantly.
“What is this, sir?” said my Lord, as, having requested something to
drink, Sickleton poured him out a large glassful of scarcely frothing
liquid.
“Dry champagne, my Lord. Moot's.”
“And very excellent too. Really, Laura, I am very sorry it should be so
late, and we were to have dined with Meek at seven--”
“But only alone--no party, remember that,” said she, persuasively; “how
easy to send the carriage back with an apology.”
Cashel looked his thanks, but without speaking.
“Take those red partridges out of ice,” said Sickleton, from the cook's
galley, “and let us have those Ostend oysters to-day.”
“I yield,” said my Lord. “Mr. Cashel must take all the consequences of
my breach of faith upon himself.”
“I promise to do so, my Lord.”
“A pen and ink, and some paper, Mr. Cashel,” said her Ladyship.
“Will you permit me to show you the way?” said he, handing her down into
the little cabin, whose arrangement was all in the perfection of modern
taste and elegance.
“How beautiful!” cried she. “Oh! Mr. Cashel, I really do envy you the
possession of this fairy ship. You don't know how passionately I love
the sea.”
“There are but few things I could hear you say with so much pleasure
to me,” said Cashel, gazing with a strange feeling of emotion at the
brilliant color and heightened expression of her handsome features.
“There! that is finished,” said she, closing the hastily-written note.
“Now, Mr. Cashel, we are yours.” However much of course the words were
in themselves, her eyes met Cashel's as she spoke them, and as suddenly
fell; while he, taking the letter, left the cabin without speaking--a
world of curious conjecture warring in his heart.