SHAME
It was another week before I recovered a fair share of my usual
strength, and I believe the kindly little surgeon kept me under his
charge two or three days longer than was strictly necessary. Meantime
the mist still shrouded my memory, and though otherwise my wits were as
clear as they had ever been, so far as knowledge of anything other than
the commonest matters of daily life was concerned I was in a dense night
of ignorance.
Dr. Cuthbert took care to explain this to the officer of the watch in
which I was put, and the lieutenant was sufficiently humane to set me at
tasks which required no skill of seamanship. As it chanced, I saw
nothing of the midshipman who had impressed me. He was, as I afterwards
learned, in another watch.
The day I was ordered on deck we sighted a palm-fringed coast, which my
fellow seamen spoke of as Yucatan. The word meant nothing to me, for my
memory was still in the mist, and the only name left me out of the past
was Vera Cruz.
From Yucatan the _Belligerent_ cruised off in an easterly direction
toward Cuba. But the second day we fell in with a west-bound frigate,
which signalled the _Belligerent_ to patrol the mouths of the
Mississippi, on the lookout for a noted French privateer sloop _La Belle
Silene_, whose master, Jean Laffat or Lafayette, was rumored to have
turned pirate.
Had I been in full possession of my mental faculties, I must surely have
noted the similarity of names. Jean Lafitte was not so far from Jean
Laffat, and the _Siren_ from _La Belle Silene_. As it was, I doubt
whether at this time the shouting of Lafitte's name in my ear would have
stirred the faintest echo of memory.
The following morning, just at the change of the dog watch, the frigate
was suddenly roused from its dull, precise routine by the sound of a
heavy gun booming down the wind from the westward. Instantly the ship
was brought about, to tack to windward, and the order was given to clear
for action. The call to quarters was sounded, the marines paraded, and
the cannon run out ready for firing, all before we sighted the supposed
enemy.
Meantime the boom of the heavy cannon had come rolling down the wind to
us at such regular intervals that the men about me swore there could be
only one big gun. Before many minutes we distinguished the hoarse,
barking roar of many carronades. At the same time we sighted the square
topsails of a Spanish merchantman, and, a little later, the gaff-topsail
of a sloop.
Soon the word was shouted down from our lookout at the masthead that
the ship was running from the sloop, which carried the big gun and was
evidently having far the better of the engagement. The flag of the ship
now confirmed the opinion that she was a Spanish merchantman. But the
strongest of spyglasses were unable to make clear the small flag of the
sloop. It was enough, however, for the British captain, that, upon
sighting us, the Spaniard flew a signal for help, and veered so as to
run down to us. That her crew should thus seek to put their ship in the
way of certain capture was considered by the men about me clear proof
that the sloop was a pirate.
As I had been left to pull and haul on deck, I was able to witness all
the fierce contest of the fight, and the race of the frigate to rescue
the assailed Spaniard. Sail after sail was set, and the bellying sheets
tautened as flat as the nimble seamen could draw them.
But swiftly as we tacked to windward, and swiftly as the Spaniard
slanted down the wind to obtain shelter of us, the unfortunate vessel
was already in terrible distress from the relentless attack of her
little enemy. With an audacity which amazed the Britons, the sloop stood
on, undaunted by our approach, hanging close upon the quarter of her
victim.
The fire of the ship was already silenced, while from half a
cable's-length the carronades of the sloop belched their missiles into
the rigging of the Spaniard with ever-increasing rapidity, and the great
gun on the mid-deck sent shot after shot crashing into the bulging hull
at the waterline.
Suddenly we saw the mizzenmast of the Spaniard totter. It fell forward
and sideways, dragging after it the splintered mainmast. As the ship
broached-to, we could see that she was settling down by the stern. Even
I, despite the night of ignorance which lay upon me, realized that she
was beginning to founder.
Certain of the fate of her victim, the sloop now sheered off. The
_Belligerent_ opened fire with the long eighteen-pounder bow-chasers,
but the shots fell short of the sloop by fifty yards or more. Within
half a minute the sloop had the stupendous audacity to fire her great
gun at us. By a rare chance, the ponderous ball struck the starboard
shrouds, snapping them like packthread, and hurled on aslant the after
deck, to chip a splinter from the mizzenmast and smash a great hole
through the roof of the cabin.
Only the quickness with which the frigate was brought up into the wind
and the main and mizzen sails blanketed by the foresails saved the main
and mizzenmasts from being sprung, if not carried overboard. Never, I
fancy, did the crew of a man-of-war have to suffer such a maddening
checkmate. They dared not even come about to give the saucy sloop a
broadside, but could only bark away with the ineffective bow-chasers.
The sloop packed on what was a tremendous spread of canvas for so small
a craft, and fled away aslant the wind at a speed that the frigate could
not have hoped to equal on the same course, even had the rigging been in
perfect trim.
By the time the British had stoppered the broken shrouds, reeved
preventer braces, and strengthened the splintered mizzenmast, the
Spanish ship had drifted down within hailing distance. She now sat very
low astern, and such of her people as had not been slain or helplessly
wounded had crowded up into her high-flung bows and were shrieking to us
for rescue. There was not one of their boats which had escaped the
fierce fire of the sloop's carronades. Seeing this, and that pursuit of
the sloop was now hopeless, the British captain ordered out all the
frigate's boats to take off the imperilled Spaniards.
This was a simple matter, as there was little sea running and the wind
no more than a fair breeze. Soon the first boatload of Spaniards was
brought over from the sinking ship and rowed along our starboard side
toward the stern. As the boat passed, I looked down from the lofty deck
in the idle curiosity of my empty head. Seated in the stern-sheets I saw
a portly man in robes, and beside him a slender woman in the white veil
of a novice. The woman looked up--It was Alisanda!
A cry burst from my lips, and I staggered back with a hand to my
forehead. In a twinkling everything had come back to me--full
consciousness and memory of myself, my life, my love! But in the same
instant all memory of my days aboard the _Belligerent_ became a blank.
I stared about me in amazement. Then I remembered that my lady was being
rowed alongside this strange ship. I glanced over, and saw that the
boat had made fast alongside the ship's quarter,--that preparations were
under way to lift Alisanda to the deck.
Heedless of all else in the strange unknown scene about me, I ran aft,
half mad with the mystery and joy of such a meeting. But suddenly a
marine sprang before me with lowered bayonet.
"Halt!" he ordered.
I stopped short, with the point against my breast.
"Let me past--let me past!" I panted. "I must go to my lady! I am Dr.
Robinson! I must see her--at once!"
"What's this?" demanded an insolent young voice, and the midshipman who
had impressed me swung around beside the marine. I recognized him on the
instant.
"You!" I cried.
"The dunce!" he rejoined. "Back before the mast, you damned Yankee!"
"You!" I repeated. "Get out of my way. I'm going to my lady!"
"Your lady!" he sneered, and he added a term which stung me to madness.
As he spoke, he struck me a heavy blow with his fist upon my jaw.
Catching him by the wrist, I jerked him forward and struck him a blow
between the eyes that would have felled him had I not held to his wrist.
The marine cried out, and sprang around for an opening to lunge at me
without striking his officer. I caught the staggering young scoundrel
by the shoulders and hurled him against the man. Both rolled to the
deck.
At the same moment some one sprang upon me from behind and bore me down.
As I fell, others flung themselves upon my legs. My arms were wrenched
around behind my back and lashed together, my ankles bound fast, despite
my desperate struggles. Then a stern voice gave the order for me to be
taken below and placed in irons. I sought to cry out an appeal--to
attempt an explanation. But one of the men thrust a balled kerchief into
my mouth and tied in the gag with another kerchief which covered my eyes
as well. Dumb, blind, and bound, I was carried below, still struggling.
The moment they had replaced my bonds with handcuffs and bilboes and
relieved me of the gag, down in the foul, cell-like prison, I so
implored and raved to see the captain that they thought I was beside
myself,--as, indeed, it may well be said I was. Instead of the captain,
they sent for Dr. Cuthbert, who was a perfect stranger to my restored
memory. He listened to my now incoherent statements that I was Dr. John
Robinson and must go to my lady, and sought to soothe me. My constant
repetitions convinced him that I was quite out of my head, and to quiet
me, he cunningly administered an opiate in wine and water.
Discipline is swift-handed aboard a man-of-war. Before I had fully slept
off the effects of the drug, I was roused and taken before the
court-martial convened to try me. The judge-advocate was the officer of
my watch, though at the time I had no memory of him. For the first time
I saw the captain near at hand. He was a granite-faced Cornishman, and
looked upon me with a cold, blue-gray eye which condemned me before a
word had been spoken.
My ankles had been freed from the bilboes before I was brought up, but
when I was ordered to stand, I could not readily obey because of the
continued numbness of my limbs. At this two of my guards jerked me up
with brutal roughness, and the charge against me was read. To my
amazement and horror, I learned that I was upon trial, under the name
Jack Numskull, for the crime of striking my superior officer, the
penalty for which was death.
Ignorant of the procedure of the court, I sought to protest, but was
ordered to keep silent. In quick succession, the witnesses were called
and questioned,--first the midshipman I had struck, then the marine, and
after that four or five seamen. All testified without contradiction to
the damnable fact that I had struck Midshipman Hepburn.
"Enough," said Captain Powers. "Has the prisoner anything to say?"
The question was repeated to me. I bowed to the court as best I could
with my wrists locked together behind my back.
"Gentlemen," I said, "I wish first to explain--"
"Speak to the point," commanded the judge-advocate. "The law does not
require you to confess. Yet if you wish to meet death with a free
conscience, the court will receive your statement. Do you admit that you
struck your superior officer?"
"No. I deny it."
"You deny it--in the face of this positive testimony?"
"I admit that I struck Midshipman Hepburn,--if that is his name. I deny
that I struck my superior officer."
"Explain!" demanded Captain Powers, irascibly.
"I deny that Midshipman Hepburn is my superior officer,--that any man on
this ship or in the Navy of George the Third is my superior officer. I
deny the jurisdiction of this court. I am a native-born citizen of the
United States of America. I was aboard a neutral vessel sailing from one
free port to another when this same Midshipman Hepburn boarded the craft
and unlawfully impressed me. In resisting, I was struck senseless. Of
whatever has happened since I have barely a vague consciousness. Only I
know that immediately before the affray for which I am now being tried,
I saw a lady being brought alongside in a boat, and at once full memory
came back to me. I am John H. Robinson, a physician of the Louisiana
Territory, born in the State of Pennsylvania, reared at Cincinnati on
the Ohio River, and educated at Columbia College, in the city of New
York."
During my recital, all present except the captain regarded me with
lively curiosity, mingled with varying degrees of incredulity. Powers
did not betray the slightest interest or emotion.
"We have heard the statement of the prisoner," he said. "Whether it is
or is not true is irrelevant. The fact remains that the prisoner, while
serving as a seaman in the service of His Majesty King George, did
strike a midshipman in said service, the same being his superior
officer."
"Sir, may I suggest the doubt of the prisoner's sanity, in mitigation of
his crime?" interposed the judge-advocate.
"Remove the prisoner," commanded the captain.
I was led out and kept waiting for half an hour, while my life hung in
the balance. At last they led me back to receive the decree of the
court. By now I was in a half stupor of agonized despair, my thoughts
fixed upon Alisanda and all I was to lose. The terrible word "Death!"
roused me to consciousness of my surroundings.
The judge-advocate paused, drew a deep breath, and continued the reading
of the sentence: "But, it being testified to by Surgeon Wilbur Cuthbert
that said prisoner was not at the time of the committance of his crime
rational or sane, said sentence of death is hereby commuted to the
sentence of one hundred lashes--"
"Hold! hold!" I cried. "Not that! Shoot me!--murder me! But spare me
that shame!"
This time when they dragged me out and down to the foul prison
black-hole they had no need of a gag. After that one wild protest, I
fell dumb. I had seen two floggings of twenty strokes of the cat since
coming aboard. With the words of my sentence the memory had come back to
me, and with the memory of those shameful floggings had returned the
remembrance of all my life aboard the _Belligerent_.
When, an hour or so after my sentence, Dr. Cuthbert came to condole with
me, I recognized him and his kindness, but sat in sullen misery when he
sought to question me. The trial was over--sentence imposed. Why should
I accept the sympathy of these brutes?
He may have divined my frame of mind, for presently he fell to deploring
the rigors of the times, brought about by the boundless ambition of
Bonaparte. England, he argued, alone interposed by means of her navy a
barrier against the world-wide domination of the Corsican adventurer.
That navy was the hope of the world. Yet, thanks to the French
privateers and Bonaparte's strength upon the Continent, Britain had lost
much of her commerce to the United States, to whose ships the British
seamen were constantly deserting to escape the harsh yet necessary
discipline of the Royal Navy. What, then, if occasionally a native
American was impressed? The struggle between Britain and the Corsican
was a struggle of life and death. Britain must man her ships, or submit
to destruction, and with Britain crushed, what nation or alliance of
nations could hope to withstand the infernal genius of Bonaparte?
I waited for a pause, and inquired in a casual tone as to the welfare of
the Spanish lady rescued from the sinking ship. He started up, retreated
a pace or two, with his eyes fixed upon me, and then hurried off,
tapping his head significantly. I bowed my head with a sigh of relief.
The temptation had been taken from me. My weakness should not have
another opportunity to betray me. My lady should not know of my shame.