It was in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and forty-four,
that I, Gill Davis to command, His Mark, having then the honour to be a
private in the Royal Marines, stood a-leaning over the bulwarks of the
armed sloop Christopher Columbus, in the South American waters off the
Mosquito shore.
My lady remarks to me, before I go any further, that there is no such
christian-name as Gill, and that her confident opinion is, that the name
given to me in the baptism wherein I was made, &c., was Gilbert. She is
certain to be right, but I never heard of it. I was a foundling child,
picked up somewhere or another, and I always understood my christian-name
to be Gill. It is true that I was called Gills when employed at
Snorridge Bottom betwixt Chatham and Maidstone to frighten birds; but
that had nothing to do with the Baptism wherein I was made, &c., and
wherein a number of things were promised for me by somebody, who let me
alone ever afterwards as to performing any of them, and who, I consider,
must have been the Beadle. Such name of Gills was entirely owing to my
cheeks, or gills, which at that time of my life were of a raspy
description.
My lady stops me again, before I go any further, by laughing exactly in
her old way and waving the feather of her pen at me. That action on her
part, calls to my mind as I look at her hand with the rings on it--Well!
I won't! To be sure it will come in, in its own place. But it's always
strange to me, noticing the quiet hand, and noticing it (as I have done,
you know, so many times) a-fondling children and grandchildren asleep, to
think that when blood and honour were up--there! I won't! not at
present!--Scratch it out.
She won't scratch it out, and quite honourable; because we have made an
understanding that everything is to be taken down, and that nothing that
is once taken down shall be scratched out. I have the great misfortune
not to be able to read and write, and I am speaking my true and faithful
account of those Adventures, and my lady is writing it, word for word.
I say, there I was, a-leaning over the bulwarks of the sloop Christopher
Columbus in the South American waters off the Mosquito shore: a subject
of his Gracious Majesty King George of England, and a private in the
Royal Marines.
In those climates, you don't want to do much. I was doing nothing. I
was thinking of the shepherd (my father, I wonder?) on the hillsides by
Snorridge Bottom, with a long staff, and with a rough white coat in all
weathers all the year round, who used to let me lie in a corner of his
hut by night, and who used to let me go about with him and his sheep by
day when I could get nothing else to do, and who used to give me so
little of his victuals and so much of his staff, that I ran away from
him--which was what he wanted all along, I expect--to be knocked about
the world in preference to Snorridge Bottom. I had been knocked about
the world for nine-and-twenty years in all, when I stood looking along
those bright blue South American Waters. Looking after the shepherd, I
may say. Watching him in a half-waking dream, with my eyes half-shut, as
he, and his flock of sheep, and his two dogs, seemed to move away from
the ship's side, far away over the blue water, and go right down into the
sky.
"It's rising out of the water, steady," a voice said close to me. I had
been thinking on so, that it like woke me with a start, though it was no
stranger voice than the voice of Harry Charker, my own comrade.
"What's rising out of the water, steady?" I asked my comrade.
"What?" says he. "The Island."
"O! The Island!" says I, turning my eyes towards it. "True. I forgot
the Island."
"Forgot the port you're going to? That's odd, ain't it?"
"It is odd," says I.
"And odd," he said, slowly considering with himself, "ain't even. Is it,
Gill?"
He had always a remark just like that to make, and seldom another. As
soon as he had brought a thing round to what it was not, he was
satisfied. He was one of the best of men, and, in a certain sort of a
way, one with the least to say for himself. I qualify it, because,
besides being able to read and write like a Quarter-master, he had always
one most excellent idea in his mind. That was, Duty. Upon my soul, I
don't believe, though I admire learning beyond everything, that he could
have got a better idea out of all the books in the world, if he had
learnt them every word, and been the cleverest of scholars.
My comrade and I had been quartered in Jamaica, and from there we had
been drafted off to the British settlement of Belize, lying away West and
North of the Mosquito coast. At Belize there had been great alarm of one
cruel gang of pirates (there were always more pirates than enough in
those Caribbean Seas), and as they got the better of our English cruisers
by running into out-of-the-way creeks and shallows, and taking the land
when they were hotly pressed, the governor of Belize had received orders
from home to keep a sharp look-out for them along shore. Now, there was
an armed sloop came once a-year from Port Royal, Jamaica, to the Island,
laden with all manner of necessaries, to eat, and to drink, and to wear,
and to use in various ways; and it was aboard of that sloop which had
touched at Belize, that I was a-standing, leaning over the bulwarks.
The Island was occupied by a very small English colony. It had been
given the name of Silver-Store. The reason of its being so called, was,
that the English colony owned and worked a silver-mine over on the
mainland, in Honduras, and used this Island as a safe and convenient
place to store their silver in, until it was annually fetched away by the
sloop. It was brought down from the mine to the coast on the backs of
mules, attended by friendly Indians and guarded by white men; from thence
it was conveyed over to Silver-Store, when the weather was fair, in the
canoes of that country; from Silver-Store, it was carried to Jamaica by
the armed sloop once a-year, as I have already mentioned; from Jamaica,
it went, of course, all over the world.
How I came to be aboard the armed sloop, is easily told. Four-and-twenty
marines under command of a lieutenant--that officer's name was
Linderwood--had been told off at Belize, to proceed to Silver-Store, in
aid of boats and seamen stationed there for the chase of the Pirates. The
Island was considered a good post of observation against the pirates,
both by land and sea; neither the pirate ship nor yet her boats had been
seen by any of us, but they had been so much heard of, that the
reinforcement was sent. Of that party, I was one. It included a
corporal and a sergeant. Charker was corporal, and the sergeant's name
was Drooce. He was the most tyrannical non-commissioned officer in His
Majesty's service.
The night came on, soon after I had had the foregoing words with Charker.
All the wonderful bright colours went out of the sea and sky in a few
minutes, and all the stars in the Heavens seemed to shine out together,
and to look down at themselves in the sea, over one another's shoulders,
millions deep. Next morning, we cast anchor off the Island. There was a
snug harbour within a little reef; there was a sandy beach; there were
cocoa-nut trees with high straight stems, quite bare, and foliage at the
top like plumes of magnificent green feathers; there were all the objects
that are usually seen in those parts, and _I_ am not going to describe
them, having something else to tell about.
Great rejoicings, to be sure, were made on our arrival. All the flags in
the place were hoisted, all the guns in the place were fired, and all the
people in the place came down to look at us. One of those Sambo
fellows--they call those natives Sambos, when they are half-negro and
half-Indian--had come off outside the reef, to pilot us in, and remained
on board after we had let go our anchor. He was called Christian George
King, and was fonder of all hands than anybody else was. Now, I confess,
for myself, that on that first day, if I had been captain of the
Christopher Columbus, instead of private in the Royal Marines, I should
have kicked Christian George King--who was no more a Christian than he
was a King or a George--over the side, without exactly knowing why,
except that it was the right thing to do.
But, I must likewise confess, that I was not in a particularly pleasant
humour, when I stood under arms that morning, aboard the Christopher
Columbus in the harbour of the Island of Silver-Store. I had had a hard
life, and the life of the English on the Island seemed too easy and too
gay to please me. "Here you are," I thought to myself, "good scholars
and good livers; able to read what you like, able to write what you like,
able to eat and drink what you like, and spend what you like, and do what
you like; and much _you_ care for a poor, ignorant Private in the Royal
Marines! Yet it's hard, too, I think, that you should have all the half-
pence, and I all the kicks; you all the smooth, and I all the rough; you
all the oil, and I all the vinegar." It was as envious a thing to think
as might be, let alone its being nonsensical; but, I thought it. I took
it so much amiss, that, when a very beautiful young English lady came
aboard, I grunted to myself, "Ah! _you_ have got a lover, I'll be bound!"
As if there was any new offence to me in that, if she had!
She was sister to the captain of our sloop, who had been in a poor way
for some time, and who was so ill then that he was obliged to be carried
ashore. She was the child of a military officer, and had come out there
with her sister, who was married to one of the owners of the silver-mine,
and who had three children with her. It was easy to see that she was the
light and spirit of the Island. After I had got a good look at her, I
grunted to myself again, in an even worse state of mind than before,
"I'll be damned, if I don't hate him, whoever he is!"
My officer, Lieutenant Linderwood, was as ill as the captain of the
sloop, and was carried ashore, too. They were both young men of about my
age, who had been delicate in the West India climate. I even took _that_
in bad part. I thought I was much fitter for the work than they were,
and that if all of us had our deserts, I should be both of them rolled
into one. (It may be imagined what sort of an officer of marines I
should have made, without the power of reading a written order. And as
to any knowledge how to command the sloop--Lord! I should have sunk her
in a quarter of an hour!)
However, such were my reflections; and when we men were ashore and
dismissed, I strolled about the place along with Charker, making my
observations in a similar spirit.
It was a pretty place: in all its arrangements partly South American and
partly English, and very agreeable to look at on that account, being like
a bit of home that had got chipped off and had floated away to that spot,
accommodating itself to circumstances as it drifted along. The huts of
the Sambos, to the number of five-and-twenty, perhaps, were down by the
beach to the left of the anchorage. On the right was a sort of barrack,
with a South American Flag and the Union Jack, flying from the same
staff, where the little English colony could all come together, if they
saw occasion. It was a walled square of building, with a sort of
pleasure-ground inside, and inside that again a sunken block like a
powder magazine, with a little square trench round it, and steps down to
the door. Charker and I were looking in at the gate, which was not
guarded; and I had said to Charker, in reference to the bit like a powder
magazine, "That's where they keep the silver you see;" and Charker had
said to me, after thinking it over, "And silver ain't gold. Is it,
Gill?" when the beautiful young English lady I had been so bilious about,
looked out of a door, or a window--at all events looked out, from under a
bright awning. She no sooner saw us two in uniform, than she came out so
quickly that she was still putting on her broad Mexican hat of plaited
straw when we saluted.
"Would you like to come in," she said, "and see the place? It is rather
a curious place."
We thanked the young lady, and said we didn't wish to be troublesome;
but, she said it could be no trouble to an English soldier's daughter, to
show English soldiers how their countrymen and country-women fared, so
far away from England; and consequently we saluted again, and went in.
Then, as we stood in the shade, she showed us (being as affable as
beautiful), how the different families lived in their separate houses,
and how there was a general house for stores, and a general reading-room,
and a general room for music and dancing, and a room for Church; and how
there were other houses on the rising ground called the Signal Hill,
where they lived in the hotter weather.
"Your officer has been carried up there," she said, "and my brother, too,
for the better air. At present, our few residents are dispersed over
both spots: deducting, that is to say, such of our number as are always
going to, or coming from, or staying at, the Mine."
("_He_ is among one of those parties," I thought, "and I wish somebody
would knock his head off.")
"Some of our married ladies live here," she said, "during at least half
the year, as lonely as widows, with their children."
"Many children here, ma'am?"
"Seventeen. There are thirteen married ladies, and there are eight like
me."
There were not eight like her--there was not one like her--in the world.
She meant single.
"Which, with about thirty Englishmen of various degrees," said the young
lady, "form the little colony now on the Island. I don't count the
sailors, for they don't belong to us. Nor the soldiers," she gave us a
gracious smile when she spoke of the soldiers, "for the same reason."
"Nor the Sambos, ma'am," said I.
"No."
"Under your favour, and with your leave, ma'am," said I, "are they
trustworthy?"
"Perfectly! We are all very kind to them, and they are very grateful to
us."
"Indeed, ma'am? Now--Christian George King?--"
"Very much attached to us all. Would die for us."
She was, as in my uneducated way I have observed, very beautiful women
almost always to be, so composed, that her composure gave great weight to
what she said, and I believed it.
Then, she pointed out to us the building like a powder magazine, and
explained to us in what manner the silver was brought from the mine, and
was brought over from the mainland, and was stored here. The Christopher
Columbus would have a rich lading, she said, for there had been a great
yield that year, a much richer yield than usual, and there was a chest of
jewels besides the silver.
When we had looked about us, and were getting sheepish, through fearing
we were troublesome, she turned us over to a young woman, English born
but West India bred, who served her as her maid. This young woman was
the widow of a non-commissioned officer in a regiment of the line. She
had got married and widowed at St. Vincent, with only a few months
between the two events. She was a little saucy woman, with a bright pair
of eyes, rather a neat little foot and figure, and rather a neat little
turned-up nose. The sort of young woman, I considered at the time, who
appeared to invite you to give her a kiss, and who would have slapped
your face if you accepted the invitation.
I couldn't make out her name at first; for, when she gave it in answer to
my inquiry, it sounded like Beltot, which didn't sound right. But, when
we became better acquainted--which was while Charker and I were drinking
sugar-cane sangaree, which she made in a most excellent manner--I found
that her Christian name was Isabella, which they shortened into Bell, and
that the name of the deceased non-commissioned officer was Tott. Being
the kind of neat little woman it was natural to make a toy of--I never
saw a woman so like a toy in my life--she had got the plaything name of
Belltott. In short, she had no other name on the island. Even Mr.
Commissioner Pordage (and _he_ was a grave one!) formally addressed her
as Mrs. Belltott, but, I shall come to Mr. Commissioner Pordage
presently.
The name of the captain of the sloop was Captain Maryon, and therefore it
was no news to hear from Mrs. Belltott, that his sister, the beautiful
unmarried young English lady, was Miss Maryon. The novelty was, that her
christian-name was Marion too. Marion Maryon. Many a time I have run
off those two names in my thoughts, like a bit of verse. Oh many, and
many, and many a time!
We saw out all the drink that was produced, like good men and true, and
then took our leaves, and went down to the beach. The weather was
beautiful; the wind steady, low, and gentle; the island, a picture; the
sea, a picture; the sky, a picture. In that country there are two rainy
seasons in the year. One sets in at about our English Midsummer; the
other, about a fortnight after our English Michaelmas. It was the
beginning of August at that time; the first of these rainy seasons was
well over; and everything was in its most beautiful growth, and had its
loveliest look upon it.
"They enjoy themselves here," I says to Charker, turning surly again.
"This is better than private-soldiering."
We had come down to the beach, to be friendly with the boat's-crew who
were camped and hutted there; and we were approaching towards their
quarters over the sand, when Christian George King comes up from the
landing-place at a wolf's-trot, crying, "Yup, So-Jeer!"--which was that
Sambo Pilot's barbarous way of saying, Hallo, Soldier! I have stated
myself to be a man of no learning, and, if I entertain prejudices, I hope
allowance may be made. I will now confess to one. It may be a right one
or it may be a wrong one; but, I never did like Natives, except in the
form of oysters.
So, when Christian George King, who was individually unpleasant to me
besides, comes a trotting along the sand, clucking, "Yup, So-Jeer!" I
had a thundering good mind to let fly at him with my right. I certainly
should have done it, but that it would have exposed me to reprimand.
"Yup, So-Jeer!" says he. "Bad job."
"What do you mean?" says I.
"Yup, So-Jeer!" says he, "Ship Leakee."
"Ship leaky?" says I.
"Iss," says he, with a nod that looked as if it was jerked out of him by
a most violent hiccup--which is the way with those savages.
I cast my eyes at Charker, and we both heard the pumps going aboard the
sloop, and saw the signal run up, "Come on board; hands wanted from the
shore." In no time some of the sloop's liberty-men were already running
down to the water's edge, and the party of seamen, under orders against
the Pirates, were putting off to the Columbus in two boats.
"O Christian George King sar berry sorry!" says that Sambo vagabond,
then. "Christian George King cry, English fashion!" His English fashion
of crying was to screw his black knuckles into his eyes, howl like a dog,
and roll himself on his back on the sand. It was trying not to kick him,
but I gave Charker the word, "Double-quick, Harry!" and we got down to
the water's edge, and got on board the sloop.
By some means or other, she had sprung such a leak, that no pumping would
keep her free; and what between the two fears that she would go down in
the harbour, and that, even if she did not, all the supplies she had
brought for the little colony would be destroyed by the sea-water as it
rose in her, there was great confusion. In the midst of it, Captain
Maryon was heard hailing from the beach. He had been carried down in his
hammock, and looked very bad; but he insisted on being stood there on his
feet; and I saw him, myself, come off in the boat, sitting upright in the
stern-sheets, as if nothing was wrong with him.
A quick sort of council was held, and Captain Maryon soon resolved that
we must all fall to work to get the cargo out, and that when that was
done, the guns and heavy matters must be got out, and that the sloop must
be hauled ashore, and careened, and the leak stopped. We were all
mustered (the Pirate-Chace party volunteering), and told off into
parties, with so many hours of spell and so many hours of relief, and we
all went at it with a will. Christian George King was entered one of the
party in which I worked, at his own request, and he went at it with as
good a will as any of the rest. He went at it with so much heartiness,
to say the truth, that he rose in my good opinion almost as fast as the
water rose in the ship. Which was fast enough, and faster.
Mr. Commissioner Pordage kept in a red-and-black japanned box, like a
family lump-sugar box, some document or other, which some Sambo chief or
other had got drunk and spilt some ink over (as well as I could
understand the matter), and by that means had given up lawful possession
of the Island. Through having hold of this box, Mr. Pordage got his
title of Commissioner. He was styled Consul too, and spoke of himself as
"Government."
He was a stiff-jointed, high-nosed old gentleman, without an ounce of fat
on him, of a very angry temper and a very yellow complexion. Mrs.
Commissioner Pordage, making allowance for difference of sex, was much
the same. Mr. Kitten, a small, youngish, bald, botanical and
mineralogical gentleman, also connected with the mine--but everybody
there was that, more or less--was sometimes called by Mr. Commissioner
Pordage, his Vice-commissioner, and sometimes his Deputy-consul. Or
sometimes he spoke of Mr. Kitten, merely as being "under Government."
The beach was beginning to be a lively scene with the preparations for
careening the sloop, and with cargo, and spars, and rigging, and water-
casks, dotted about it, and with temporary quarters for the men rising up
there out of such sails and odds and ends as could be best set on one
side to make them, when Mr. Commissioner Pordage comes down in a high
fluster, and asks for Captain Maryon. The Captain, ill as he was, was
slung in his hammock betwixt two trees, that he might direct; and he
raised his head, and answered for himself.
"Captain Maryon," cries Mr. Commissioner Pordage, "this is not official.
This is not regular."
"Sir," says the Captain, "it hath been arranged with the clerk and
supercargo, that you should be communicated with, and requested to render
any little assistance that may lie in your power. I am quite certain
that hath been duly done."
"Captain Maryon," replied Mr. Commissioner Pordage, "there hath been no
written correspondence. No documents have passed, no memoranda have been
made, no minutes have been made, no entries and counter-entries appear in
the official muniments. This is indecent. I call upon you, sir, to
desist, until all is regular, or Government will take this up."
"Sir," says Captain Maryon, chafing a little, as he looked out of his
hammock; "between the chances of Government taking this up, and my ship
taking herself down, I much prefer to trust myself to the former."
"You do, sir?" cries Mr. Commissioner Pordage.
"I do, sir," says Captain Maryon, lying down again.
"Then, Mr. Kitten," says the Commissioner, "send up instantly for my
Diplomatic coat."
He was dressed in a linen suit at that moment; but, Mr. Kitten started
off himself and brought down the Diplomatic coat, which was a blue cloth
one, gold-laced, and with a crown on the button.
"Now, Mr. Kitten," says Pordage, "I instruct you, as Vice-commissioner,
and Deputy-consul of this place, to demand of Captain Maryon, of the
sloop Christopher Columbus, whether he drives me to the act of putting
this coat on?"
"Mr. Pordage," says Captain Maryon, looking out of his hammock again, "as
I can hear what you say, I can answer it without troubling the gentleman.
I should be sorry that you should be at the pains of putting on too hot a
coat on my account; but, otherwise, you may put it on hind-side before,
or inside-out, or with your legs in the sleeves, or your head in the
skirts, for any objection that I have to offer to your thoroughly
pleasing yourself."
"Very good, Captain Maryon," says Pordage, in a tremendous passion. "Very
good, sir. Be the consequences on your own head! Mr. Kitten, as it has
come to this, help me on with it."
When he had given that order, he walked off in the coat, and all our
names were taken, and I was afterwards told that Mr. Kitten wrote from
his dictation more than a bushel of large paper on the subject, which
cost more before it was done with, than ever could be calculated, and
which only got done with after all, by being lost.
Our work went on merrily, nevertheless, and the Christopher Columbus,
hauled up, lay helpless on her side like a great fish out of water. While
she was in that state, there was a feast, or a ball, or an entertainment,
or more properly all three together, given us in honour of the ship, and
the ship's company, and the other visitors. At that assembly, I believe,
I saw all the inhabitants then upon the Island, without any exception. I
took no particular notice of more than a few, but I found it very
agreeable in that little corner of the world to see the children, who
were of all ages, and mostly very pretty--as they mostly are. There was
one handsome elderly lady, with very dark eyes and gray hair, that I
inquired about. I was told that her name was Mrs. Venning; and her
married daughter, a fair slight thing, was pointed out to me by the name
of Fanny Fisher. Quite a child she looked, with a little copy of herself
holding to her dress; and her husband, just come back from the mine,
exceeding proud of her. They were a good-looking set of people on the
whole, but I didn't like them. I was out of sorts; in conversation with
Charker, I found fault with all of them. I said of Mrs. Venning, she was
proud; of Mrs. Fisher, she was a delicate little baby-fool. What did I
think of this one? Why, he was a fine gentleman. What did I say to that
one? Why, she was a fine lady. What could you expect them to be (I
asked Charker), nursed in that climate, with the tropical night shining
for them, musical instruments playing to them, great trees bending over
them, soft lamps lighting them, fire-flies sparkling in among them,
bright flowers and birds brought into existence to please their eyes,
delicious drinks to be had for the pouring out, delicious fruits to be
got for the picking, and every one dancing and murmuring happily in the
scented air, with the sea breaking low on the reef for a pleasant chorus.
"Fine gentlemen and fine ladies, Harry?" I says to Charker. "Yes, I
think so! Dolls! Dolls! Not the sort of stuff for wear, that comes of
poor private soldiering in the Royal Marines!"
However, I could not gainsay that they were very hospitable people, and
that they treated us uncommonly well. Every man of us was at the
entertainment, and Mrs. Belltott had more partners than she could dance
with: though she danced all night, too. As to Jack (whether of the
Christopher Columbus, or of the Pirate pursuit party, it made no
difference), he danced with his brother Jack, danced with himself, danced
with the moon, the stars, the trees, the prospect, anything. I didn't
greatly take to the chief-officer of that party, with his bright eyes,
brown face, and easy figure. I didn't much like his way when he first
happened to come where we were, with Miss Maryon on his arm. "O, Captain
Carton," she says, "here are two friends of mine!" He says, "Indeed?
These two Marines?"--meaning Charker and self. "Yes," says she, "I
showed these two friends of mine when they first came, all the wonders of
Silver-Store." He gave us a laughing look, and says he, "You are in
luck, men. I would be disrated and go before the mast to-morrow, to be
shown the way upward again by such a guide. You are in luck, men." When
we had saluted, and he and the lady had waltzed away, I said, "You are a
pretty follow, too, to talk of luck. You may go to the Devil!"
Mr. Commissioner Pordage and Mrs. Commissioner, showed among the company
on that occasion like the King and Queen of a much Greater Britain than
Great Britain. Only two other circumstances in that jovial night made
much separate impression on me. One was this. A man in our draft of
marines, named Tom Packer, a wild unsteady young fellow, but the son of a
respectable shipwright in Portsmouth Yard, and a good scholar who had
been well brought up, comes to me after a spell of dancing, and takes me
aside by the elbow, and says, swearing angrily:
"Gill Davis, I hope I may not be the death of Sergeant Drooce one day!"
Now, I knew Drooce had always borne particularly hard on this man, and I
knew this man to be of a very hot temper: so, I said:
"Tut, nonsense! don't talk so to me! If there's a man in the corps who
scorns the name of an assassin, that man and Tom Packer are one."
Tom wipes his head, being in a mortal sweat, and says he:
"I hope so, but I can't answer for myself when he lords it over me, as he
has just now done, before a woman. I tell you what, Gill! Mark my
words! It will go hard with Sergeant Drooce, if ever we are in an
engagement together, and he has to look to me to save him. Let him say a
prayer then, if he knows one, for it's all over with him, and he is on
his Death-bed. Mark my words!"
I did mark his words, and very soon afterwards, too, as will shortly be
taken down.
The other circumstance that I noticed at that ball, was, the gaiety and
attachment of Christian George King. The innocent spirits that Sambo
Pilot was in, and the impossibility he found himself under of showing all
the little colony, but especially the ladies and children, how fond he
was of them, how devoted to them, and how faithful to them for life and
death, for present, future, and everlasting, made a great impression on
me. If ever a man, Sambo or no Sambo, was trustful and trusted, to what
may be called quite an infantine and sweetly beautiful extent, surely, I
thought that morning when I did at last lie down to rest, it was that
Sambo Pilot, Christian George King.
This may account for my dreaming of him. He stuck in my sleep,
cornerwise, and I couldn't get him out. He was always flitting about me,
dancing round me, and peeping in over my hammock, though I woke and dozed
off again fifty times. At last, when I opened my eyes, there he really
was, looking in at the open side of the little dark hut; which was made
of leaves, and had Charker's hammock slung in it as well as mine.
"So-Jeer!" says he, in a sort of a low croak. "Yup!"
"Hallo!" says I, starting up. "What? You _are_ there, are you?"
"Iss," says he. "Christian George King got news."
"What news has he got?"
"Pirates out!"
I was on my feet in a second. So was Charker. We were both aware that
Captain Carton, in command of the boats, constantly watched the mainland
for a secret signal, though, of course, it was not known to such as us
what the signal was.
Christian George King had vanished before we touched the ground. But,
the word was already passing from hut to hut to turn out quietly, and we
knew that the nimble barbarian had got hold of the truth, or something
near it.
In a space among the trees behind the encampment of us visitors, naval
and military, was a snugly-screened spot, where we kept the stores that
were in use, and did our cookery. The word was passed to assemble here.
It was very quickly given, and was given (so far as we were concerned) by
Sergeant Drooce, who was as good in a soldier point of view, as he was
bad in a tyrannical one. We were ordered to drop into this space,
quietly, behind the trees, one by one. As we assembled here, the seamen
assembled too. Within ten minutes, as I should estimate, we were all
here, except the usual guard upon the beach. The beach (we could see it
through the wood) looked as it always had done in the hottest time of the
day. The guard were in the shadow of the sloop's hull, and nothing was
moving but the sea,--and that moved very faintly. Work had always been
knocked off at that hour, until the sun grew less fierce, and the sea-
breeze rose; so that its being holiday with us, made no difference, just
then, in the look of the place. But I may mention that it was a holiday,
and the first we had had since our hard work began. Last night's ball
had been given, on the leak's being repaired, and the careening done. The
worst of the work was over, and to-morrow we were to begin to get the
sloop afloat again.
We marines were now drawn up here under arms. The chace-party were drawn
up separate. The men of the Columbus were drawn up separate. The
officers stepped out into the midst of the three parties, and spoke so as
all might hear. Captain Carton was the officer in command, and he had a
spy-glass in his hand. His coxswain stood by him with another spy-glass,
and with a slate on which he seemed to have been taking down signals.
"Now, men!" says Captain Carton; "I have to let you know, for your
satisfaction: Firstly, that there are ten pirate-boats, strongly manned
and armed, lying hidden up a creek yonder on the coast, under the
overhanging branches of the dense trees. Secondly, that they will
certainly come out this night when the moon rises, on a pillaging and
murdering expedition, of which some part of the mainland is the object.
Thirdly--don't cheer, men!--that we will give chace, and, if we can get
at them, rid the world of them, please God!"
Nobody spoke, that I heard, and nobody moved, that I saw. Yet there was
a kind of ring, as if every man answered and approved with the best blood
that was inside of him.
"Sir," says Captain Maryon, "I beg to volunteer on this service, with my
boats. My people volunteer, to the ship's boys."
"In His Majesty's name and service," the other answers, touching his hat,
"I accept your aid with pleasure. Lieutenant Linderwood, how will you
divide your men?"
I was ashamed--I give it out to be written down as large and plain as
possible--I was heart and soul ashamed of my thoughts of those two sick
officers, Captain Maryon and Lieutenant Linderwood, when I saw them, then
and there. The spirit in those two gentlemen beat down their illness
(and very ill I knew them to be) like Saint George beating down the
Dragon. Pain and weakness, want of ease and want of rest, had no more
place in their minds than fear itself. Meaning now to express for my
lady to write down, exactly what I felt then and there, I felt this: "You
two brave fellows that I had been so grudgeful of, I know that if you
were dying you would put it off to get up and do your best, and then you
would be so modest that in lying down again to die, you would hardly say,
'I did it!'"
It did me good. It really did me good.
But, to go back to where I broke off. Says Captain Carton to Lieutenant
Linderwood, "Sir, how will you divide your men? There is not room for
all; and a few men should, in any case, be left here."
There was some debate about it. At last, it was resolved to leave eight
Marines and four seamen on the Island, besides the sloop's two boys. And
because it was considered that the friendly Sambos would only want to be
commanded in case of any danger (though none at all was apprehended
there), the officers were in favour of leaving the two non-commissioned
officers, Drooce and Charker. It was a heavy disappointment to them,
just as my being one of the left was a heavy disappointment to me--then,
but not soon afterwards. We men drew lots for it, and I drew "Island."
So did Tom Packer. So of course, did four more of our rank and file.
When this was settled, verbal instructions were given to all hands to
keep the intended expedition secret, in order that the women and children
might not be alarmed, or the expedition put in a difficulty by more
volunteers. The assembly was to be on that same spot at sunset. Every
man was to keep up an appearance, meanwhile, of occupying himself in his
usual way. That is to say, every man excepting four old trusty seamen,
who were appointed, with an officer, to see to the arms and ammunition,
and to muffle the rullocks of the boats, and to make everything as trim
and swift and silent as it could be made.
The Sambo Pilot had been present all the while, in case of his being
wanted, and had said to the officer in command, five hundred times over
if he had said it once, that Christian George King would stay with the So-
Jeers, and take care of the booffer ladies and the booffer childs--booffer
being that native's expression for beautiful. He was now asked a few
questions concerning the putting off of the boats, and in particular
whether there was any way of embarking at the back of the Island: which
Captain Carton would have half liked to do, and then have dropped round
in its shadow and slanted across to the main. But, "No," says Christian
George King. "No, no, no! Told you so, ten time. No, no, no! All
reef, all rock, all swim, all drown!" Striking out as he said it, like a
swimmer gone mad, and turning over on his back on dry land, and
spluttering himself to death, in a manner that made him quite an
exhibition.
The sun went down, after appearing to be a long time about it, and the
assembly was called. Every man answered to his name, of course, and was
at his post. It was not yet black dark, and the roll was only just gone
through, when up comes Mr. Commissioner Pordage with his Diplomatic coat
on.
"Captain Carton," says he, "Sir, what is this?"
"This, Mr. Commissioner" (he was very short with him), "is an expedition
against the Pirates. It is a secret expedition, so please to keep it a
secret."
"Sir," says Commissioner Pordage, "I trust there is going to be no
unnecessary cruelty committed?"
"Sir," returns the officer, "I trust not."
"That is not enough, sir," cries Commissioner Pordage, getting wroth.
"Captain Carton, I give you notice. Government requires you to treat the
enemy with great delicacy, consideration, clemency, and forbearance."
"Sir," says Captain Carton, "I am an English officer, commanding English
Men, and I hope I am not likely to disappoint the Government's just
expectations. But, I presume you know that these villains under their
black flag have despoiled our countrymen of their property, burnt their
homes, barbarously murdered them and their little children, and worse
than murdered their wives and daughters?"
"Perhaps I do, Captain Carton," answers Pordage, waving his hand, with
dignity; "perhaps I do not. It is not customary, sir, for Government to
commit itself."
"It matters very little, Mr. Pordage, whether or no. Believing that I
hold my commission by the allowance of God, and not that I have received
it direct from the Devil, I shall certainly use it, with all avoidance of
unnecessary suffering and with all merciful swiftness of execution, to
exterminate these people from the face of the earth. Let me recommend
you to go home, sir, and to keep out of the night-air."
Never another syllable did that officer say to the Commissioner, but
turned away to his men. The Commissioner buttoned his Diplomatic coat to
the chin, said, "Mr. Kitten, attend me!" gasped, half choked himself, and
took himself off.
It now fell very dark, indeed. I have seldom, if ever, seen it darker,
nor yet so dark. The moon was not due until one in the morning, and it
was but a little after nine when our men lay down where they were
mustered. It was pretended that they were to take a nap, but everybody
knew that no nap was to be got under the circumstances. Though all were
very quiet, there was a restlessness among the people; much what I have
seen among the people on a race-course, when the bell has rung for the
saddling for a great race with large stakes on it.
At ten, they put off; only one boat putting off at a time; another
following in five minutes; both then lying on their oars until another
followed. Ahead of all, paddling his own outlandish little canoe without
a sound, went the Sambo pilot, to take them safely outside the reef. No
light was shown but once, and that was in the commanding officer's own
hand. I lighted the dark lantern for him, and he took it from me when he
embarked. They had blue lights and such like with them, but kept
themselves as dark as Murder.
The expedition got away with wonderful quietness, and Christian George
King soon came back dancing with joy.
"Yup, So-Jeer," says he to myself in a very objectionable kind of
convulsions, "Christian George King sar berry glad. Pirates all be blown
a-pieces. Yup! Yup!"
My reply to that cannibal was, "However glad you may be, hold your noise,
and don't dance jigs and slap your knees about it, for I can't abear to
see you do it."
I was on duty then; we twelve who were left being divided into four
watches of three each, three hours' spell. I was relieved at twelve. A
little before that time, I had challenged, and Miss Maryon and Mrs.
Belltott had come in.
"Good Davis," says Miss Maryon, "what is the matter? Where is my
brother?"