CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

The captives were grouped together, some sitting, and some standing.

Not one of them looked dejected at his fate; though I could see by their

movements that they were impatient of the bonds that tied them. My

attention was most frequently directed to the old gentleman who had been

addressed as Mr Evelyn. Notwithstanding the grief expressed in his

countenance, it possessed an air of benevolence and kindness of heart

that even his settled melancholy did not conceal. I could not

understand why, but I felt a deeper interest for this person than for

any of the others--a sort of yearning towards him, mingled with a desire

to protect him from the malice of his enemies.

Almost as soon as they were gone, John Gough beckoned to Mr Evelyn to

sit down by his side. Possibly this was done to prevent his assisting

his companions to regain their liberty, as he, not being pinioned like

the rest, might easily have done, and they might have overpowered their

guard before his companions could come to his assistance. But Gough was

well armed, and the rest being without weapons of any kind, it was

scarcely probable that they would have risked their lives on so

desperate an attempt.

Mr Evelyn came and quietly sat himself down in the place indicated. I

observed him with increasing interest, and, singular to relate, the more

I gazed on his venerable face, the more strongly I felt assured that I

had seen it before. This of course was impossible; nevertheless, the

fancy took possession of me, and I experienced a strange sensation of

pleasure as I watched the changes his features underwent.

"John Gough, I am sorry to see you mixed up in this miserable business,"

said he, mildly addressing his companion. The other did not answer, and

as his back was turned towards me, I could not observe the effect the

observation had upon him.

"The men who have left us, I know to be bad men," continued the speaker;

"I expect nothing but wickedness from them. But you, I am aware, have

been better brought up. Your responsibility therefore becomes the

greater in assisting them in their villainy."

"You had better not let them hear you, Mr Evelyn," replied Gough, at

last, in something like a surly tone; "I would not answer for the

consequences."

"Those I do not fear," the other answered. "The results of this

transaction can make very little difference to a man on the verge of the

grave, who has outlived all his relatives, and has nothing left to fall

back upon but the memory of his misfortunes: but to one in the prime of

life like yourself, who can boast of friends and relatives who feel an

interest in your good name, these results must be serious indeed. What

must be the feelings of your respectable father when he learns that you

have joined a gang of pirates; how intense must be the grief of your

amiable mother when she hears that you have paid the penalty that must

sooner or later overtake you for embracing so lawless a life."

"Come, Mr Evelyn," exclaimed Gough, though with a tremulousness in his

voice that betrayed the state of his feelings, "you have no right to

preach to me. I have done as much as I could for you all. The men

would have made short work with you if I had not interposed, and pointed

out to them this uninhabited island."

"Where it seems you left a poor woman to be starved to death," continued

Mr Evelyn.

"It was no fault of mine," replied the man; "I did all I could to

prevent it."

"It would have been more manly if you had remained with her on this

rock, and left your cowardly associates to take their selfish course.

But you are weak and irresolute, John Gough; too easily persuaded into

evil, too slow to follow the impulses of good. The murder of that poor

woman is as much your deed as if you had blown her brains out before you

abandoned her. Indeed I do not know but what the latter would have been

the less criminal."

John Gough made no answer. I do not think, however, his mind was quite

easy under this accusation, for he seemed restless, and kept playing

with his pistols, with his eyes cast down.

"Your complicity in this mutiny, too, John Gough, is equally

inexcusable," continued Mr Evelyn. "It was your duty to have stood by

Captain Manvers and his officers; by which you would have earned their

eternal gratitude, and a handsome provision from the owners of the

vessel."

"It's no use talking of these things now, Mr Evelyn," said Gough,

hurriedly. "I have taken my course. It is too late to turn back.

Would to God," he added, dashing his hand violently against his brow, "I

had had nothing to do with it."

"It is never too late, John Gough, to do good," here cried out Mrs

Reichardt, as she rose from her place of concealment, as much to my

surprise as that of all who could observe her. But nothing could equal

the astonishment of Gough when he first caught sight of her features--he

sprang to his feet, leaving his pistols on the ground, and clasping his

hands together, exclaimed, "Thank God, she is safe!"

"Yes," she replied, approaching him and taking his hand kindly. "By an

interposition of Providence you are saved from the guilt of one murder.

In the name of that God who has so signally preserved you against

yourself, I command you to abandon your present wicked designs."

The man hesitated, but it seemed as if he could not take his gaze from

her face, and it was evident that her presence exerted an extraordinary

influence over him. In the mean time I had made my appearance on the

scene, not less to the astonishment of the lookers-on; and my first act

was to take possession of the pair of pistols that Gough had left on the

ground; my next to hurry to the group of captives, who had been

regarding us, in a state as it were of perfect bewilderment, and with my

American knife to cut their bonds.

"I will do whatever you think proper," said John Gough. "Believe me, I

have been reluctantly led into this, and joined the mutiny knowing that

I should have been murdered if I did not."

"You must endeavour to make what amends are in your power," continued

Mrs Reichardt, "by assisting your officers in recovering possession of

the ship."

"I will gladly assist in whatever they may think feasible," said the

man. "But we must first secure the desperate fellows who have just left

us; and as we are but poorly provided with weapons, that of itself will

be a service of no slight danger. To get possession of the ship I am

afraid will be still more hazardous; but you shall find me in the front

of every danger." Here Captain Manvers and the others came up to where

John Gough and Mrs Reichardt were conversing; he heard Gough's last

speech, and he was going to say something, when I interposed by stating

that there was no time now for explanations, for in a few minutes the

fellows who had gone to the hut would return, and the only way to

prepare for them was for the whole party to go to our house, to which

Mrs Reichardt would lead them, where they would find plenty of arms and

ammunition. In the meantime I would keep watch, and observe their

motions, and by firing one of the pistols would signal to them if I was

in any danger. Lastly, I recommended that the oars should be removed

from the boat, to prevent the mutineers making their escape to the ship.

My appearance and discourse attracted general attention. I particularly

noticed that Mr Evelyn started as soon as he caught sight of me, and

appeared to observe me with singular carefulness; but that, no doubt,

arose from my unexpected address, and the strange way in which I had

presented myself before him.

The Captain approving of my proposal, the whole party, after taking away

the boat's oars, moved off rapidly in the direction of the house. I

again concealed myself in the grass, and waited the return of the

mutineers. They did not remain away long. I could hear them

approaching, for they laughed and shouted as they went along, loud

enough to be heard at a considerable distance. When they began to

descend the rocks, they passed so close to me, that I could hear every

word that was spoken.

"Well, flesh is grass, as the parson says," said Jack, "they must have

died sooner or later, if we hadn't parted company with so little

ceremony. But, hallo! My eyes and limbs! Where's John Gough? Where's

the Captain? Where's all on 'em?"

It is impossible to express the astonishment of the men on reaching the

spot where they had so lately left their prisoners, and discovering that

not a trace of them was to be seen. At first they imagined that they

had escaped in the boat, but as soon as they saw that the boat was safe,

they gave up that idea. Then they fancied John Gough had taken the

prisoners to stroll a little distance inland, and they began to shout as

loud as their lungs would permit them. Receiving no response, they

uttered many strange ejaculations, which I could not then understand,

but which I have since learned were profane oaths; and seemed at a loss

what to do, whether to wander about the island in search of them, or

return to their ship.

Only one chanced to be for the former, and the others overruled him, not

thinking it was worth their while to take so much trouble as to go

rambling about in a strange place. They seemed bent on taking to the

boat, when one of them suggested they might get into a scrape if they

returned without their companion. They finally resolved on sitting down

and waiting his return.

Presently, one complained he was very sleepy, as he had been too busy

mutineering to turn into his hammock the previous night, and the others

acknowledged they also felt an equal want of rest from the same cause.

Each began to yawn. They laid themselves at their full length along the

grass, and in a short time I could hear by their snoring, as Jackson

used to do, that they were asleep.

I now crept stealthily towards them on my hands and knees, and they were

in such a profound sleep, that I had no difficulty whatever in removing

the pistols from their belts. I had just succeeded in this, when I

beheld the Captain, and John Gough, and Mr Evelyn, and all the rest of

them, well armed with guns and pistols, approaching the place where we

were.

In a few minutes afterwards the mutineers were made prisoners, without

their having an opportunity of making the slightest resistance. I was

much complimented by the Captain for the dexterity with which I had

disarmed them; but while I was in conversation with him, it is

impossible to express the surprise I felt, on seeing Mr Evelyn suddenly

rush towards me from the side of Mrs Reichardt, with whom he had been

talking, and embracing me with the most moving demonstrations of

affection, claim me as his grandson.

The mystery was soon explained. Mr Evelyn had met so many losses in

business as a merchant, that he took the opportunity of a son of his old

clerk--who had become a captain of a fine ship, employed in the South

American trade--being about to proceed on a trading voyage to that part

of the world, to sail in his vessel with a consignment of goods for the

South American market. He had also another object, which was to inquire

after the fate of his long-lost daughter and son-in-law, of whom he had

received no certain intelligence, since the latter took ship with the

diamonds he had purchased to return home. The vessel in which they

sailed had never been heard of since; and Mr Evelyn had long given up

all hopes of seeing either of them again, or the valuable property with

which they had been intrusted.

On their going to the house, he had asked Mrs Reichardt my name,

stating that I so strongly resembled a very dear friend of his he

believed had perished many years ago, that he felt quite an interest in

me. The answer he received led to a series of the most earnest

inquiries, and Mrs Reichardt satisfied him on every point, showed him

all the property that had formerly been in the possession of Mrs

Henniker and her husband; related Jackson's story, and convinced him,

that though he had lost the daughter for whom he had mourned so long,

her representative existed in the Little Savage, who was saving him from

the fate for which he had been preserved by the mutineers.

I have only to add, that I had the happiness of restoring to my

grandfather the diamonds I had obtained from Jackson, which were no

doubt very welcome to him, for they not only restored him to affluence,

but made him one of the richest merchants upon Change.

I was also instrumental in obtaining for the Captain the command of his

ship, and of restoring discipline amongst the crew. The ringleaders of

the mutiny were thrown into irons, and taken home for trial; this

resulted in one or two of them being hanged by way of example, and these

happened to be the men who so barbarously deserted Mrs Reichardt. She

accompanied me to England in Captain Manvers' vessel; for when he heard

of the obligations I owed her, my grandfather decided that she should

remain with us as long as she lived. We however did not leave the

island, until we had shown my grandfather, the captain, and his

officers, what we had effected during our stay, and every one was

surprised that we could have produced a flourishing farm upon a barren

rock. I did not fail to show the places where I had had my fight with

the python, and where I had been pursued by the sharks, and my narrative

of both incidents seemed to astonish my hearers exceedingly.

I must not forget to add, that the day before our departure, John Gough

came to me privately, and requested my good offices with the Captain,

that he might be left on the island. He had become a very different

character to what he had previously been; and as there could be no

question that the repentance he assumed was sincere, I said all I could

for him. My recommendation was successful, and I transferred to John

Gough all my farm, farming stock, and agricultural implements; moreover,

promised to send him whatever he might further require to make his

position comfortable. He expressed great gratitude, but desired

nothing; only that his family might know that he was well off, and was

not likely to return.

Perhaps John Gough did not like the risk he ran of being tried for

mutiny, or was averse to sailing with his former comrades: but whatever

was the cause of his resolution, it is certain that he remained behind

when the ship left the island, and may be there to this hour for all I

know to the contrary.

We made a quick voyage to England, and as my readers will be no doubt

glad to hear, the Little Savage landed safely at Plymouth, and was soon

cordially welcomed to his grandfather's house in London.

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