THE CAPTAIN OF THE SEA SCOURGE.
They walked on through a grove of palms, and then through a thicket that
clothed the base of the mountain, until they reached the front of
Britomarte’s grotto.
“You see it is to no house that we are able to invite you, captain, but
we will make you very heartily welcome to this ‘hole in the wall’ of the
mountain,” said Justin, smiling, as he opened the door, and drew aside
the curtain that concealed the entrance to Britomarte’s grotto.
“A palace for Pan and the wood nymphs, upon my soul!” said the captain,
in sincere admiration, as he followed Justin and Britomarte into the
grotto, and looked around upon its glistening white walls and brilliant
skylight.
“We like it very much,” said Britomarte.
“Like it! Who would dwell in houses made with hands, when they might
live in a fairy grotto like this?” exclaimed the captain.
Justin drew one of the armchairs forward, and invited him to take it.
And Judith removed the woolen table cover, and replaced it with a damask
tablecloth, preparatory to spreading the lunch.
As plates, dishes, glasses, castors, knives, forks and spoons were in
turn placed upon the table, the captain of the _Sea Scourge_ looked on
with ever-increasing amazement. Turning his eyes from the well-appointed
table to the comfortably-furnished grotto, he said:
“It appears to me that you saved a great deal from the wreck.”
“Yes,” said Justin, cautiously, for he could not as yet feel full
confidence in his guest; “yes, the ship was cast very high upon the
rocks, and when the sea went down she was almost entirely out of the
water, and we saved at least enough furniture from the cabins and
dining-saloons to fit up this grotto comfortably. The crockery in the
dining-saloon suffered most in the storm, for out of a mountain of
broken glass and earthenware, we rescued only a dozen or so of whole
pieces; and indeed the whole pieces are not entirely whole, for there is
scarcely one that is not cracked or chipped.”
“It must have been a stupendous labor for one man to get all these
things, especially this heavy furniture, from the wrecked ship to the
shore.”
“It was the labor of months,” answered Justin, “but I did not accomplish
it alone. Miss Conyers brought all the light articles over, and Judith
Riordan, who is a model of strength, assisted me to bring the heavy
ones.”
While the two men conversed, Judith, under the direction of Britomarte,
spread the table with a cold ham, a chicken pie, a loaf of bread,
cheese, and a bottle of brandy.
“Brandy, too!” exclaimed the captain of the _Sea Scourge_, on beholding
this last welcome addition to the feast. “Brandy, too! you are very
fortunate, as well as industrious. You must have saved a lot of it, to
have lasted you nearly two years.”
“Nay,” said Justin, evasively, “we saved some bottles, but as we kept it
in case of illness, and never required its use in that contingency, the
store could not give out.”
“Then I assure you, if I were going to leave you a settled colonist upon
this Desert Isle, I would not touch a drop of your brandy, but as I hope
to take you all with me when I sail, I will gladly drink it to your
health and happiness,” said the captain of the _Sea Scourge_, suiting
the action to the word by helping himself liberally to the brandy.
“Sure if he’s not a fraybooter itself, it’s fray and aisy he is
entirely,” muttered Judith, as she passed Miss Conyers on her way to the
kitchen. Britomarte smiled, and Judith presently reappeared with a
pitcher of water, which she also set upon the table.
And now, all being ready, Justin invited his guest to seat himself at
the board.
“But where are the men whom you ordered to follow you, captain?”
inquired the host.
“Oh, they are straggling in, I suppose. They will be here presently,
doubtless. But, my young friend, pray don’t waste this brandy on them,
whatever you do. It is genuine old Otard, such as you cannot buy for
love or money in the States, though you may pay highly for a lot of
drugged Yankee rum that sells under its honored name. Besides, my
fellows wouldn’t appreciate it, and it is desecration of good liquor to
give it to men who don’t know it when they taste it. Give them the
cheapest whisky that you may happen to have to throw away,” said the
captain, filling for himself another glass, which he held up to the
light with the glance of a connoisseur.
“Indeed, I think I am no better judge of liquors than the most ignorant
of your men. We have a small cask of whisky, and your men are welcome to
it, though whether it is good, bad or indifferent, I cannot tell,” said
Justin, who was busy in cutting up the chicken pie, with which he
liberally helped his guest.
“Chicken, by all that’s gracious! Did you save chickens enough to stock
your poultry yards, my friend?” inquired the captain.
“We saved a few, from which we raised other broods,” answered Justin,
rather reservedly, for it did not escape his notice that while Captain
Spear put his host through a rather close cross-examination, he was not
at all communicative on his own affairs.
And neither had Justin lost sight of the mystery of the strange flag,
but with something of the old Bedouin sentiment of hospitality, which
permits the guest, whoever he may be, to come and go unquestioned,
Justin forbore to make inquiries, at least for the present. He hoped
that the captain himself would soon volunteer information.
In this he was disappointed. The captain ate heartily of the chicken
pie, and passed from that to the ham, and from the ham to the cheese,
washing down the whole with abundant draughts of old brandy, which
seemed to take no more effect on him as yet than so much pure water.
At last, when the stranger had eaten enough and was satisfied, and
Judith had taken out the remnants of the feast, and divided them among
the men who were sitting grouped outside the grotto door, Justin thought
the time had come when, without impropriety, he might question his
guest. He began in a delicate, distant, roundabout manner, on the common
ground of politics.
“I need not ask you if you are a native American, Captain Spear. I see
that you are.”
“Yes—I am. And yourself? Your name is German; yet you speak English like
a native.”
“I am a native American of German descent,” answered Justin.
“A native American, are you?—of the North, or the South?” inquired the
stranger, pointedly.
“Of the South,” replied Justin, rather reservedly, and feeling that the
tables were being turned upon him, and that from the questioner he was
again becoming the questioned.
“Of the South! So am I. Give me your hand again. We shall be friends, I
am sure!” warmly exclaimed the red-bearded captain, seizing the fist of
his host and shaking it heartily.
“Thanks,” said Justin, wincing somewhat. Then, making another effort to
enter upon the common ground of politics, he said:
“When I left my native country last October a year ago, the contest was
very bitter between the two great parties that divided the nation. Which
succeeded in electing their candidate?”
“Good Heavens! What a realizing sense of your long sequestration from
the world and your utter ignorance of its affairs your question gives
me! I positively never fully appreciated your position until this
moment! Man, you might as well have been dead and buried in your grave
as entombed alive in this desert of an island!”
“I do not think so,” said Justin. “But tell me who was elected President
of the United States?”
“Is it possible that you don’t know?”
“How should I? I left the United States in October. When I left there
seemed to be an equal chance of success between the candidates; the
election did not come off until November.”
“And you don’t know what has happened since?”
“No, I tell you.”
“What! did no passing ship bring you the news?”
“If a ship had passed, we should not have been found here,” said Justin,
impatiently.
“Did no bird sing it? No wave bear it? No breeze waft it?”
“Birds, waves and breezes are not apt to gossip with me,” replied
Justin.
“Hear it, Olympian Jove! Here is a gallant son of the South that does
not yet know that he is free! That he has been free for nearly two
years! A man that still believes in the supremacy of the Stars and
Stripes and in the existence of the Glorious Union! Ha—ha—ha! ho—ho—ho!
Oh! but in respect to the ladys’ presence, I could shout with laughter!
Come—what will you give me for my news?”
“Nay, friend, if you will not freely impart your news to an exile who
has been without any for so long a time, I have nothing to offer you but
my thanks,” replied Justin, greatly perplexed by the words and manners
of his guest.
“Now that appeals to my better nature! I will tell you all. But stay—I
must not tell you all at once. It would overwhelm you!”
“In Heaven’s name, what has happened? Have we annexed Canada, or Mexico,
or both?”
“Neither yet—I tell you I must break the matter to you gently. And first
by answering your question as to who was elected President of the United
States. And I will do it dramatically as well as gradually. Behold, the
curtain rises on the grand drama. Act 1st, Scene 1st.—The Election of
Abraham Lincoln!”
“Thank Heaven!” said Justin.
“I say so too! We Southerners worked hard for the election of Old Abe;
because we knew if he was not elected we could never carry our point
with the common people against their superstitious attachment to the
Union.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand you.”
“No; perhaps not, for that was one of the deepest dodges of state-craft
that ever was tried. The slave-power working covertly for the election
of the abolition candidate! Ha—ha—ha! Ho—ho—ho!”
“Go on—perhaps I shall know what you would be at presently,” said
Justin.
“Perhaps you will. Shift the scene. Scene 2nd.—The Secession of South
Carolina!”
“What!” thundered Justin, in astonishment.
“Yes, sir!” replied the captain of the _Sea Scourge_, who understood
only the astonishment.
“South Carolina seceded?” repeated Justin, now in incredulous amazement.
“Glorious little State! Yes! She alone first flung down the gauntlet of
defiance! She, single handed, challenged the whole power of the Federal
Government and inaugurated the second great War of Independence!”
“What followed?” demanded Justin, in a low voice; while Britomarte,
leaning her elbow on the table and bending forward, listened
breathlessly to the next words of the stranger. “Wait and see! Shift the
scenes. Scene 3d. This is a very exciting scene. Secession of Georgia,
followed by the secession of all the Gulf States! Retirement of the
Southern Senators from the Senate of the United States!”
“And were they suffered to depart?” inquired Britomarte, in a soft but
thrilling voice.
“Of course they were, young lady! What should hinder them?”
“Their arrest, I should think.”
“Ha—ha—ha! Ho—ho—ho! Catch Uncle Jemmy at that game! or any of his
Cabinet either! But let me go on with the play. Scene 4th. A very
stately scene this—the Confederate Congress at Montgomery! Organization
of a provisional government! Election of Jefferson Davis as President of
the Southern Confederacy!”
“No!” exclaimed Justin, starting up in almost uncontrollable agitation.
“Yes, I tell you! Now sit down and be quiet! Don’t let your feelings
overcome you prematurely. For there are more news and greater scenes to
come! I see I was right to break the glory on you gradually—as the day
dawns. No one could bear the light of the sun if it started up suddenly
in the blackness of the night.”
“Go on,” said Justin.
“I’m going on. Scene 5th. A very comic scene this. Executive mansion.
Emissaries of the Confederacy inviting President Jemmy to withdraw
United States troops from Fort Sumter. Emissaries from Major Anderson
beseeching President Jemmy to reinforce United States troops at Fort
Sumter. President Jemmy standing hesitating between two opinions, like
the donkey between two bundles of hay—doesn’t know what to do, and does
nothing.”
“The man must have been in his dotage!” exclaimed Justin.
“Probably! We didn’t object to that! But let us proceed with the play.
Scene 6th. A splendid spectacular scene this—embracing the whole depth
of the stage, the full force of the company, brilliant fireworks, _et
cetera_. In short—The bombardment of Fort Sumter! The fall of Fort
Sumter! Lowering of the Star-Spangled Banner. Elevation of the
Confederate Flag! Grand Tableau! And the curtain falls upon the first
act of the great drama amidst thunders of applause.”
Justin had sprung to his feet, and was standing gazing with starting
eyes, distended nostrils and clenched teeth at the speaker.
“What the demon ails you, man? Are you mad?” exclaimed the rebel
captain.
“I would return the question! What ails you? Are you mad? Are you
drawing imaginary pictures black as the scenes of Dante’s Inferno? Are
you talking at random? Do you know what you are saying?” demanded
Justin, glaring at his guest.
“Yes, I know very well what I am saying; I am saying that we have
stormed and carried Fort Sumter! That we have dragged down to the dust
the proud Star-Spangled Banner that never was humbled before!” said the
rebel captain, helping himself to another great bumper of the strong old
brandy that was now beginning to affect even his seasoned system, so as
to inflame his blood and dim his perceptions.
“Oh! dread God of Battles, where stayed thy thunderbolts?” exclaimed
Justin, starting from the table and hurriedly pacing the whole length of
the grotto.
He felt an almost uncontrollable desire to take this man by the throat
and hurl him through the door; but he remembered that the man was his
own invited guest, and had sat at his board, broken his bread, and drank
his health; he also reflected that only from this man could he get the
information which he was so anxious to obtain, and so restrained his
impulse.
Meanwhile Captain Spear deceived himself with that common delusion which
blinded so many Secessionists to the sentiments of loyal Southerners,
whom they supposed to be fellow Secessionists, merely because they were
fellow-citizens; and his perceptions were still further obscured by the
fumes of the brandy he had swallowed, and so he utterly misunderstood
the character of Justin Rosenthal, and mistook the cause of his
excitement. He believed that the young man, being a native of the South,
must be an advocate of Secession, and that his great emotion was in
sympathy with his own high exultation over the victory he had just been
describing.
“If you will only sit down and compose yourself, my young friend, I will
go on with the play. There are greater glories to come than any I have
yet described, I can tell you!” said the rebel captain.
“Yes, go on with the play!” said Justin, throwing himself into his
chair, but averting his face from the captain.
“The curtain rises on Act 3rd, Scene 1st. There is another grand
spectacular scene! Again the whole depth of the stage; the full strength
of the company; pyrotechnics—dazzling effects! In a word The Battle of
Manassas! The great Federal army under General McDowell—the Great
Confederate army under General Beauregard. Tremendous engagement!
Terrific fighting! Total rout of the Federals! Complete triumph of the
Confederates! Grand tableau!”
Here the captain paused, helped himself to another bumper of the old
Otard, swallowed it at a gulp, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his
chair.
“Go on,” said Justin, scarcely able to speak for the strong emotion that
nearly choked his voice.
“That’s all. I have finished the bottle, and I have finished the tale;
or, rather, all I have to tell. When the curtain dropped on that scene I
left the theatre of war, at least in regard to the military branch of
action. In short, I received letters of marque from the Confederate
Government, authorizing me to cruise in quest of Federal prizes, and I
took the command of the privateer _Sea Scourge_. I have already taken a
few Federal merchant ships; but after appropriating their cargoes and
money chests, was obliged unfortunately to scuttle and sink them. Hadn’t
enough men to spare, you see, to man them and send them home.”
“And their unfortunate crew?” groaned Justin.
“It was a pity,” said the drunken captain, sleepily, “but I had to sink
them with their ships! Hadn’t men enough to guard them!”
“And now?”
“Now I am cruising about in these latitudes, lying in wait for returning
East Indiamen, which are always rich prizes and easy prey, being without
guns.”
“And so!” exclaimed Justin, no longer able to restrain himself, but
bounding to his feet, and seizing the rebel captain by the throat, and
shaking him violently—“and so I have been harboring no less a miscreant
than a licensed pirate, who takes advantage of his letters of marque and
makes war—not upon men-of-war, but upon defenseless merchantmen—seizing
their cargoes, murdering their crews, and scuttling their ships!”
“It was a mil—lil—litary necessity, commodore!” spluttered the wretch,
gasping and choking in the viselike grasp of the furious young athlete.
“Your instant execution is a moral necessity, miscreant!” thundered
Justin, shaking him by the throat as though he would have shaken his
sinful soul from his brutal body.
“Justin! Justin! forbear! would you murder the villain at your own
board!” frantically exclaimed Britomarte, starting up and seizing the
arm of the young man. “Would you murder him before my eyes!”
“I would execute him now and here! for he deserves instant death!” cried
the young man, tightening his grasp until the pirate grew black in the
face.
“Justin! Justin! spare him! not for his sake, but for your own honor! He
is too much intoxicated to defend himself. He is helpless as a child in
your grasp! For your own honor, Justin! curb your just rage and spare a
defenseless man!” pleaded Britomarte, clinging to her lover.
“I will obey you, my queen! I will spare the miscreant, though he does
not deserve to be spared, never having spared others!” replied Justin,
hurling from him the form of the pirate, who fell heavily, striking his
head upon the stone floor.
“Oh, Justin! I fear that he is already dead!” exclaimed Britomarte,
approaching the motionless form of the pirate, who, from the united
effects of drunkenness, suffocation, and concussion, was now quite
insensible.
“He is dead drunk, that is all,” replied Justin, turning the body half
over with his foot and then leaving it.
He went to the entrance of the cavern and looked out. The men that had
been grouped before the door were nowhere in sight; but Judith was
walking about gathering up crusts and bones and other litter left by
them on the ground.
Justin beckoned her to approach, and she came.
“What are you doing, Judith?” he inquired, in a low voice.
“Claning up the yard afther the saymen, sure. Troth, they’re as dirthy
as pigs at their males, so they are.”
“Where have they gone, Judith?”
“Divil a bit iv me knows! They took up the keg iv whisky ye gave them,
so they did, and walked off wid it before me two looking eyes. Meself
thinks they have carried it down to the boat, and are stealing it off to
the ship unbeknownst to the captain! Sure I called to them to stop; but
they told me ye gave them the whisky itself, which I couldn’t
contradict.”
“I am glad they are gone, Judith; but I suppose they will come back here
presently for their captain. Come in here, Judith, a moment; I wish to
speak with you,” said Justin, gravely.
Judith came into the grotto, wondering. But when she saw the insensible
form of the pirate captain, she exclaimed:
“Lorrud kape us! I thought how it would be! Sure he’s afther dhrinking a
whole bottle iv that strong old brandy, and has fallen down dead dhrunk,
so he has. Sure, sir, where will we drag him away to?”
“Nowhere, Judith! he must remain just where he is until his men return
to take him! But draw near and listen to me. This man is not a
Confederate officer, nor is his ship a Confederate privateer. Neither
would be acknowledged by the Confederate States. The Southern people
would not tolerate piracy. This man has taken advantage of civil war to
become a pirate. You have heard and read enough to be able to know and
dread the lawlessness and cruelty of these pirates——”
“Pirates! Lord betune us from harrm, are they pirates?” exclaimed
Judith, opening her mouth and eyes and suspending her breath.
“They are pirates, Judith. Now compose yourself, my good girl. And, dear
Britomarte, attend. You must take Judith with you and leave this grotto.
You must both go up the mountain to my hole in the rock, which is the
safest hiding place on the whole island. You must conceal yourselves
there until these men have finally left the island and their ship has
sailed. If they do not see you again they may not think of you. Or even
if they do think of you, they will never be able to find you in that
secure retreat. Go at once!”
“But you, Justin—but you,” exclaimed Miss Conyers, anxiously.
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, how? Oh, how? Think of the fury of that wretch when he recovers his
senses, and remembers the punishment you inflicted on him. Think of the
vengeance of his crew. What could you, one man, do against the pirate
and all his band?”
“Britomarte, you who have no fears for yourself, should have none for
me. Only death can come to me. Worse, infinitely worse, might reach you.
Go, dear Britomarte. Go at once. These miscreants may be even now on
their way here,” he urged.
“Justin, once before I was forced from your side in an hour of deadly
peril. I will not be so again,” she replied, looking white, and firm as
marble.
“Dear Britomarte, you shall be forced to nothing, but you shall be
convinced of the necessity of following my advice. The peril you dread
for me is nothing—nothing. That drunken brute whose recovery you dread
so much, will not come to his senses for many hours. His men, when they
come for him, will have to carry him off in his present state of
unconsciousness. And even when he does recover, it is not likely that he
will remember anything about the choking he got from me. As to the crew,
I have treated them kindly. They will be contented with helping
themselves to everything they want, and they will leave me in peace. It
is you and Judith only who will be in peril from them—in awful peril, if
they see you. Go, Britomarte. Oh, dear Britomarte, hasten!”
“I cannot bear to leave you alone to meet that desperate band!” she
cried.
“Britomarte! I can take care of myself by staying here, but I can only
take care of you by concealing you in the cavern. Britomarte, listen. In
that horrible Sepoy insurrection in India a few years ago, when the
banded fiends invested the Tower of Djel and carried it by storm, the
young English officer commanding the place shot his young bride through
the brain, to save her from falling into the hands of those demons!
Britomarte, if you do not follow my counsel and conceal yourself in the
cavern, that may be the only means left me to save you from worse than
death!”
Still she hesitated.
“I would rather fall by your hand than be forced to leave you in an hour
of danger!” she said.
“Britomarte, I repeat you shall be forced to do nothing—not even to save
yourself; but if you persist in remaining here, you will drive me mad!”
he exclaimed.
“I will go, then,” she answered, reluctantly.
Not to give her time to think the matter over, he slipped her arm in his
and led her from the grotto, calling to the panic-stricken Irish girl to
follow them.
Holding her hand, he helped her to ascend the almost inaccessible height
where his “hole in the rock” was situated.
He put her and her attendant in there; and then he closed the opening
with fragments of rock, so loosely put together as not to exclude the
air; and then he stuck green brushwood in between them in such a way as
to make it look like growing bushes and conceal the entrance from the
most prying eyes.
Having completed his task, he put his head down among the brushwood and
his lips to a small crevice between the fragments of rock, and
whispered:
“Good-night, dear Britomarte! Trust in Providence and keep up your
spirits. As soon as the pirate ship has gone I will come and release
you, and all will be well.”