THE END OF THE YARN.
"For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environed with a wilderness of sea;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him."
_Titus Andronicus_.
It was half-past nine in the morning--De Walden and I were seated on
the cliff where I had been shot at the day before. The only
indications of the spent storm were a line of froth, intermixed with
large quantities of wreck and drift-wood, on the beach, far above high
water-mark; branches of trees strewed here and there, with their
yesterday bright green leaves, now sun-withered and as red and sere as
if they had lain a winter on the ground; and overhead, a clear, cool,
luxurious air and sky. The hillsides had even become perceptibly
greener in one night's time--in short, Dame Nature had got her face
well washed, and every thing was clean, and fresh, and shining. The
sea-breeze was roughening the water in the offing, but in the cove, on
which we looked down, all was as yet as smooth as glass. The
undulations flowing towards the harbour's mouth, occasioned by what I
would call the echo of the ground swell, or the reverberation of the
send of the sea from the rocky beach, were scarcely perceptible; except
from the varying shadows of the banks, and grey clouds, as the plane
from which they were reflected was gently bent by the rise and fall of
the water. The whole creek was sprinkled throughout its calm surface,
by masses of floating wreck from the Mosca, that sparkled with the
motion of the water, slight as it was, in the slanting rays of the
morning sun; while out to windward, near the entrance, there was a blue
ripple on the sea right in his wake, that prevented us seeing
distinctly what it was, but which I guessed to proceed from the rushing
of fish, at some object on which they were feeding. As the sun rose,
the dazzle hauled further off, and we then could plainly see three
immense green skinned sharks, tearing at the floating body of a seaman;
every now and then one of them would seize a limb, and drag the carcass
a fathom or so under water--when the second would make a rush, and
seize another limb, and there would the dead body appear suspended
between them, as if it had been standing on its feet and alive; the
jaugle of the water giving the limbs the appearance of struggling.
Then again the third shark, like a dog walking off with a bone from two
others who were quarrelling about it, would seize the trunk, and
back-backing, forcibly drag it away from the others, and make sail with
it across his jaws into the silvery glare, pursued by his mates, when
the whole would once more disappear.
Their whereabouts, however, was still distinctly marked by the wheeling
of half a dozen pelicans; an individual bird dropping every now and
then into the water with a splash; while the lighter gulls and sea-mews
were glancing about in all directions, whistling shrill, and twinkling
with their light wings in the distance like silver butterflies, as they
pounced on the fragments that were disengaged by the teeth of the
monsters in the water.
Several vultures, the large carrion crows formerly described, were
perched on the neighbouring trees, or stalking along the beach, on the
look-out for any waifs that might be cast ashore, as their perquisites.
Sentries were placed along the hillside, with their arms glancing in
the sun, to give notice of the approach of any of the crew of the Mosca
that might have escaped and taken to the woods, should they have the
hardihood to attack any stray Spider crawling about on shore. His
Majesty's schooner was at anchor beneath us, right in the centre of the
cove, with her sails loose to dry, and her blue ensign and pennant
hoisted, but there was not a breath of wind to stir either.
There were several lines of clothes stretched from different parts of
the rigging, some of the garments deeply saturated with blood.
The crew were busy overhauling the rigging, and repairing the injuries
sustained in the action, their voices and loud laughter sounding hollow
from the water, and echoing amongst the sails, while the long,
silver-clear note, and the short merry chirrup of the boatswain's
whistle, as the water-casks were hoisting in from the launch alongside,
rose shrill above the confused sounds.
All this time the sea-breeze was stealing on, throwing out its cat's
paws, like tirailleurs covering the advance of the main body, eating
into and crisping away the outer edge of the polished mirror of the
anchorage, as if it had been the advancing tide gradually breaking away
the ice of some smooth frozen river. We could hear the rushing of the
wind before a feather moved near us; by and by there was a twitter
amongst the topmost leaves of the tree under which we sat, and some
withered ones came whirling down, and a dry twig dropped on my hat with
a tiny rattle. The highest and lightest sails of the schooner began to
flap and shake.
"There comes the breeze, Mr M'Taggart," cheeped a _wee_ mid on board.
"All hands furl sails," was growled along her deck by the hoarse voice
of the boatswain. "There it comes--haul down the square sail." Round
swung the Spider, with her topsail, top-gallant sail, and royal all
aback, and her fore and aft sails undulating and rumbling in the
breeze; presently she gradually dropped a fathom or two astern, as more
scope was given her. "In royal--hands by the topsail, and topgallant
clewlines--fore and main brails;" and the next minute she rode steadily
on the surface of the blue and roughened cove, head to wind, the tiny
wavelets sparkling in the sun, and laplapping against her cutwater;
with every thing snugly furled, and the breeze rushing past her in half
a gale of wind, driving the waves in a small surf upon the beach to
leeward, and roaring through the trees where we sat; while the sound of
the swell, as it pitched against the iron-bound coast, came down
strong, vibrating on our ears like distant thunder.
"It is very awkward to change my name so suddenly," said De Walden, to
whom I had communicated his father's death, and whatever else Sir
Oliver had written to my uncle. "I believe I shall continue plain Mr
De Walden, until I reach headquarters. But my poor father--alas!
alas!--what misery he would have saved himself and me, had he but made
this disclosure before. You know my story but in part, Mr Brail. My
poor mother always said and believed she was his wife, but he showed me
such proofs to the contrary that I had no alternative but to credit
him. However, Heaven's will be done--peace be with him."
There was an awkward pause, when, as if willing to change the subject,
he continued--"How absolutely necessary for one's comfort _here_ it is
to believe in a _hereafter_, Mr Brail; the misery that some people are
destined to endure in this scene of our probation--my poor mother, for
instance"----
"Or that most unfortunate creature, Lennox, that perished when the
Midge went down," said I, willing to draw him away from brooding over
his own misfortunes--"what a death."
"Miserable, miserable," said De Walden.
"By the way," continued I, in my kindly meant attempt, "it puzzles me
exceedingly to conceive how Adderfang and his crew did not pillage the
Moonbeam when we were so completely in his power."
"There are three reasons," replied De Walden, "any one of which was
sufficient to have prevented him. First of all, he was here under the
Buenos Ayrean flag; and as San Andreas must have been a convenient
rendezvous, both from its seclusion and the abundance of provisions to
be had in it, he might be reluctant to commit any overt act of piracy
under Mr ***'s nose. Secondly, the Devil is not always so black as he
is painted; and, from all we can learn, he was a fearful mixture of
good and evil: and, last of all, and possibly the strongest of the
three, you were scarcely worth plundering, being in ballast--had you
been returning with your cargo of shell, I would have been sorry to
have been your underwriter. But what an indomitable fellow this same
Adderfang must have been. You saw how desperately he fought the little
Midge, and how gallantly he carried on her, in his futile attempt to
beat her out of the bay. I verily believe, from all I have heard, that
he would have fired the magazine, and blown all hands into the air,
before he would have struck. But see, there goes little Piper and his
boat's crew, with the poor blind girl's body to her long home."
I looked in the direction indicated, and saw a boat leave the Spider,
pulled by four men, with a midshipman in the stern, and a deal coffin
lying along; the flag that covered it having been blown aside.
"Blind?" said I, "a blind girl did you say?" as the scene when I
considered Adderfang on his death-bed at Havanna, suddenly rose up
before me.
"Yes--she was the only thing we picked up when the felucca foundered;
except that devil of a bloodhound, which we had to destroy, in
consequence of his untameable ferocity, before he had been a quarter of
an hour on board; nothing else whatever, animate or inanimate, floated."
"And pray how _did_ she?"
"She was buckled to an oar by this belt," said he, _producing the
identical cincture I had seen Adderfang wear_; "but was quite dead by
the time we saw her."
"That was Adderfang's girdle," said I, greatly moved.
"I guessed as much," continued De Walden. "Bad as he was he must have
loved _her_ dearly, for his last thought on earth seems to have been
her safety--and no wonder, for she must have been a most beautiful
creature, tall, and elegantly formed, with fine Greek features--such
hair!--alas! alas! what a melancholy ending she has made, poor thing.
I make no doubt that she was the same female we saw in the prison at
Havanna."
"Very like, very like; but I wonder how she came on board?"
"Old Mr ***," rejoined De Walden, "who told me this morning that she
was blind, for from the appearance of the body we should not have found
it out, also informed me that she had shoved out in a small canoe,
manned by two of her slaves, after the felucca was at sea, at least so
Adderfang said; and as several guarda-costas were on the look-out for
him, he had found it impossible to send her back to Havanna again. But
enough of this poor girl and her misfortunes, Mr Brail; it is time we
were on board." And accordingly I that day took up my quarters in the
Spider.
The following morning I was invited by Tooraloo, whose heart was like
to break, to repair on board the Moonbeam, in order to be present at
the opening of Lennox's papers. De Walden accompanied me.
The will was autograph, and from its tenor, the poor fellow seemed to
have had a strong presentiment that his days were not to be long in the
land; at least that he was never again to revisit Scotland.
It purported to have been written after he had been ill on the voyage,
and, amongst other clauses, there was one, leaving my uncle and myself
executors, along with his old father and the clergyman of his native
parish in Scotland.
He left several legacies among his kindred and friends at home; one
thousand pounds to me, a very agreeable surprise; another thousand to
be funded, or _mortified_, I think he called it, to increase the salary
of the parochial schoolmaster of Lincomdodie for ever; five hundred
pounds to Tooraloo; and the residue to his father; failing him, to be
divided in certain proportions amongst the others. It was in fact an
exceedingly prudent distribution (especially with regard to the L.1000
to myself, you will say), according to my notion; although the idea was
strange of a poor fellow willing away thousands, who had all his life,
with a brief exception, been himself struggling with the most abject
penury.
When I read out Tooraloo's legacy, the poor fellow wept and ho'ho_ed_
after his fashion. "I give and bequeath to Tobias Tooraloo, the sum of
five hundred pounds."
"Ho! ho! ho!" blubbered Toby; "Currency or sterling, sir?"
"Of the current money of Jamaica."
"Hoo! hoo! hoo!" roared the skipper, whose lachrymose propensity seemed
to increase in the precise ratio of the exchange; L.100 Jamaica
currency being at that time only equal to about L.60 British sterling.
The following day _we_ weighed for Jamaica, and the Moonbeam for the
Indian coast, after having said good-by to old Mr ***, who, we found
afterwards, bore an excellent character; but of course he had to yield
to circumstances in his unprotected condition, whenever a privateer
chose to anchor in his neighbourhood. He took the precaution, however,
before we left, of arming his head negroes, in case the privateer's
men, who had taken to the woods, should prove troublesome after our
departure, but I never heard that they did so.
Nothing particular occurred until we made the west end of Jamaica. We
had intended proceeding at once to Port Royal, but seeing a large
vessel, apparently a man-of-war, at anchor in Negril bay, with a blue
flag at the fore, we stood in, and on exchanging signals, were ordered
to anchor, the frigate proving to be the Admiral.
We were both invited to dine on board, and during dinner were nearly
suffocated, by the cook having chosen to roast a jackfruit on a spit
(the vessel riding head to wind), taking it for a bread fruit, to which
it bears a strong external resemblance.
I landed at Negril that same evening, after having taken a most
affectionate leave of De Walden, and proceeded over land to
Ballywindle, where I found my excellent uncle in good health, and
getting along cheerily with his preparations for leaving the island
when the season should be a little more advanced. He lent me a hand
with poor Lennox's affairs, and the issue was that we presently scraped
together a good round sum to remit to England on this account, there to
await the distribution of the executors.
In the month of March, we left Ballywindle, and I may safely say there
was not a dry eye, black or white, master or servant, that day on the
estate, and proceeded to Kingston, where, after a sorrowful parting
from our warmhearted friends there, we embarked in the packet, and
after a prosperous voyage, arrived at Falmouth.
I found a letter lying for me from my adorable, announcing that the
family were now settled in Liverpool, where it was likely Mr Hudson was
to be permanently domiciled; and I shall not weary the reader with the
dreams of future happiness that floated through my brain that evening,
as my uncle and I, after discussing our red mullet and beef-steak, were
enjoying our bottle of port in that most excellent shop, the Green Bank
hotel.
Next day, we posted across the country to Liverpool, as fast as four
horses could carry us; but neither will I attempt to describe the joy
of our meeting. Uncle Lathom was quite pleased with my choice,
lamenting over and over again, however, what a pity it was, that she
had not been an _Irishman_.
Here, to while away the time, the old gentleman chartered a pair of
spanking hunters, and took a day now and then with the Cheshire hounds.
One fine, you may call it summer, day, the last of the season, there
was a noble field, and not a scanty sprinkling of Liverpool cotton
brokers. Some time previous, a London dealer had brought down a batch
of _grey_ horses, that were _too good_ for Tattersall's, in order to
clap the leek, as the Welshman says, into the wealthy
Liverpoolonians--"all real good, well-made hunters, sir." The fox at
length broke cover in good style, and away we all went at a killing
pace, my uncle leading with the coolness and skill of an old hand.
We came to one or two stiffish jumps, and there was nothing like the
greys; aware that they were marked, from the conspicuous colour of
their horses, the men of the _long_ and _short staple_ rode like
devils, and for a time the Cheshire aristocracy were at a puzzle what
to make of it.
At length we came to a post-and-rail fence, with a deep ditch beyond,
which seemed to be a poser. "Hold hard," cried Mr Frenche to me, as he
settled himself in his saddle, and gathered up his reins; "hold hard,
Benjie, and let the greys lead." A tall military-looking personage had
for some time hung on the flank of the Liverpool cavaliers, who, being
strangers, kept pretty well together. He appeared to be reconnoitering
their horses carefully, with that knowing sort of look as if he had
recognised them to be old friends.
Having satisfied himself, apparently, he winked to a well-mounted
sportsman near him, and reining in a little as they came up to the
fence, he sung out, in a clear, sharp voice,
"Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound,"
"Halt!"--_Stock-still_, as if touched by an enchanter's wand, on the
instant stood each gallant grey, gathering himself on his haunches, as
he slid several yards with his fore-feet on the moist sward, grooving
out regular ways in the blue clay, as if they had been so many boats
a-launching; and _away_ flew a shower of cotton-brokers, like a volley
of stones from a catapulta, leaving each an empty horse looking at him,
with one exception, where the _raw material_ was accounted for,
sticking on his horse's neck, with an ear in each hand, admiring his
_departed_ friends in the ditch, as the gay field, fifty horsemen at
the fewest, flew over them in a rainbow.
It was now fixed that we were to be married in June, and I accompanied
Mr Frenche to Ireland, in order to pay my duty to my dear old mother,
who was comfortably settled in a nice cottage in the outskirts of
Kilkenny.
It is profanation to touch on such meetings in print, so here again you
must exercise your imaginations, my good people.
We were all most happy; when, two mornings after we arrived, while
sitting at breakfast, the door opened, and a stout vulgar-looking
little man was ushered in, dressed in plush small-clothes, top boots
especially dirty, an old swansdown vest, grey upper coat, tow wig, and
green spectacles.
He made himself known as _Mr Treacle_. This was the Cork grocer who
had purchased the Ballywindle estate when my grandfather was reduced in
his circumstances, and obliged to sell it.
My uncle and mother, the instant they heard his name, drew up with
probably an excusable feeling of pride, as if they apprehended that the
honour of Mr Treacle's visit had been conferred from a desire on his
part to appear _patronising_ to an old, although reduced family. So
the meeting at first was somewhat stiff.
"Pray, Mr Treacle, be seated," said my uncle.
"Thank you kindly," said the honest tradesman, feeling very awkward, in
his turn. "Thank you kindly, Mr Frenche, and, Mrs Brail, your most
obedient. Welcome back to ould Ireland again, Mr Frenche." Then, as
if speaking aside,--"I am sure I wish you had never left it."
"Thank you, Treacle," said my uncle; "that's kindly _said_,
anyhow--and"--here he looked the grocer steadily in the face--"kindly
_meant_ too, I do believe--but talking of that _now_ does not signify,
you know--so will you have the kindness to make known to me your
wishes, Mr Treacle, and the occasion of the honour of this visit?"
"Arrah," quoth Treacle, "but it _does_ signify, and a great deal too,
Mr Frenche, for to tell you the honest thrute, I am tired of this
neighbourhood; and what most people might think equally
unpleasant,--the neighbourhood is tired of me."
My uncle looked hard at him, as if he had said, "well, it may be so;
but what is all this to me?"
"I don't rightly understand you, Mr Treacle. You have got a fine
estate, for Ballywindle is an improving property, if one had plenty of
money to lay out on it, and that I know _you_ have; besides, you have a
great advantage over the former possessors, in being, as I believe, a
Catholic, whereas all the Frenches were Protestants, so I cannot
understand why you should not make yourself popular here."
"Why, sir, I never was popular, as you call it, but I was slowly
sliding into my place, as the saying is, like a cheese along a bar of
soap, for both you and your brother were thought to be poor men, and
lost men, and men who had no chance of ever returning to Kilkenny; and
them are just the sort of articles to get mouldy and forgotten, like a
box of damaged prunes in the back shop, but--and how _they_ found it
out, I am sure I cannot tell"--(my mother smiled here)--"but for these
two years past, I have had hints, and to spare, that although your
_brother_ was dead, _you_ had come alive again, and had bought a large
estate, which, for the honour of Ireland, you had also called
Ballywindle, in Jamaica, where all the cottiers were black negers, and
that you had made a power of money, and had your nephew sent out to
you; he that was the sailor, young Master Brail, her ladyship's Hopeful
there--and that, in fact, if I did not write out to you _my own self_
(oh, murder, to be trated like a swimming pig, and made to cut my own
troat),--if I did not write that you might have the estate again at
prime cost, as we say in Cork, with a compliment (the devil burn them,
with their compliment!) of all my improvements; that"--Here he looked
in my aunt's face with the most laughable earnestness--"Now, what do
you think they did say, my lady?"
"Really, Mr Treacle, I cannot form any conception."
"Why, they said that they would nail my two ears, which were long
enough (at least so said the notice), _to my own hall-door_."
Mr Frenche laughed outright.
"Poo, poo, a vagary of the poor fellows. Why, you know our countrymen
are fond of a joke, Treacle."
"Joke, did you say? And was it a joke to fire this sugar-plum into the
small of my back last market day?" Here he rubbed a part of his body
with one hand, by no means answering the description of the _small_ of
his back; while in the other he held out a leaden bullet. My mother
drew me into the window, unable to restrain her laughter. "Oh, you
need not retrate, my dear Mrs Brail, I don't mean to _descend_ to
particulars. But," resuming his address to my uncle, "was it a joke to
plump _that_ into me, Mr Frenche? But this is all foreign to the
subject. One needs must go when the devil drives, so I am come here to
fulfil their bidding, and to make you the _offer_; for the county is
too hot to hold the ould plum-splitter, and the aristocracy too
cold--so between hot and cold, I am sick of it."
Here he turned himself to one side disconsolately, and pulling out his
red bandana, began to wipe the profuse perspiration from his brow.
My uncle and I exchanged looks. "Now, Misther Frenche, do think of it,
will you? I am not very discrate in telling you all this, but really I
am so worried, that I am half-dead with anxiety and vexation; more
especially as I have this blessed day got another _hint_."
"No! have you though?" said my uncle, unable to contain himself.
"Indeed and I have, and rather a strongish one, you will allow, Misther
Frenche, after what passed before--there, I got that _billy_ this very
blessed morning handed to me with my shaving water, by an ould villain
that I hired to wait on me, and feed the pigs for an hour every
marning; and who swore might the fiend fly away wid him, if he knowed
from Adam how it comed beneath the jug--there"----
The _billy_ ran as follows:--
"12 o'clock at night--_no moon_!
"TREACLE--You small lousy spalpeen--the _man himself_, ould Lathom
Frenche, and his nevey, young Brail, and that blessed ould woman,
Misthress Julia, are all, every mother's son of them, at this present
spaking in Kilkenny. So turn out, you ould tief o' the world, and make
room for the _rale_ Ballywindles (you pitiful, mouldy _imitation_),
Orangemen although they be, for _they_ never lived out of Ould Ireland,
when they could live in it. And show me one of the name who ever
grudged the poor a bit and a sup--so out wid you, Treacle, or you shall
swing as high as _hangman_" (_Haman_, I presumed) "before the mont be
done; like one of your own dirty farthing candles, which a rushlight
overshines like the blessed sun a pace of stinking fish.
"Your servant till death--that is, till _your_ death, if you don't
behave yourself like a jontleman, and do the bidding of
"CAPTAIN ROCK.
"_To the nasty little grocer, Treacle,
(who has no right) at Ballywindle._"
"Really," said my uncle, laughing, "this is very honest of you,
Treacle, but I have no intention of buying back the old place. So,
good-by--go home, and be a little kinder to your poor neighbours, and
no fear of you--good-by."
"Go home, did you say?--go home?--and that's what I will do, Master
Frenche, this blessed day--but to the ould shop in Cark, to my nephew
Thady behind the counter _there_. But if ever I darken a door of
Ballywindle again, unless on the day of sale, with the mounted police
on the lawn, and the footers in the hall, may"----Here he clapped his
hand on his mouth, as if to stop the oath that trembled on his tongue.
"Why, Treacle, I _have_ made some money--but if I _would_, I _could
not_ repay you your purchase money. So"----
The grocer caught at this.--"Ah, there I have you--if the money be the
difficulty, it is a bargain already, by the powers. I will leave all
the money on it if you choose, sir--and at four per cent--there, now."
To make a long story short, before that day fortnight, Ballywindle
opened its once hospitable door again to a Frenche--to the last of the
name, in a long line of owners.
At length the day of execution arrived, and I was happily married;
after which, as if we had been guilty of something to be ashamed of, we
split away the same forenoon down the north road, as fast as four
horses could carry us.
Our route lay towards Mr Hudson's recently inherited estate in
Scotland, which lay contiguous to the village where poor Lennox's
friends resided, and I therefore took this opportunity of fulfilling my
duty as executor.
We arrived at the end of our journey, as happy as people usually are in
our situation, and had scarcely passed a few days in seclusion when the
county folks began to call; and amongst others, old Mr Bland, the
parish _minister_, and his nephew, paid their respects. I soon found
that my fame had preceded me, and that I had become the lion of
Lincomdodie from the intertwining of the strands of my personal history
with those of the _ne'erdoweel callant_ Adderfang, as he was always
called, and of poor Saunders Skelp, whose father now suddenly became
the richest inhabitant of the village.
I was extremely glad to see the good old clergyman after what I already
knew of him from poor Lennox's "Sorrows;" besides, he, along with his
nephew, were two of the Dominie's executors, and I now took the
opportunity of denuding myself of the charge and devolving it on them,
who were much more competent to manage it, from their intimate
knowledge of the parties, and residence on the spot.
Soon after this, my dear old mother, my uncle, and the Hudsons, with
Richard Phantom, Esq., whose friends, although respectable, were poor,
and easily persuaded to part with him, joined us; and Mr Hudson's
beautiful seat was a scene of great gaiety for the remainder of the
summer. At length we all returned to Liverpool; and, some time after,
our party tore themselves from their dear friends, and we removed with
my uncle to our house, situated about half-a-mile from Ballywindle; for
the old gentleman, as a climax to his kindness, had purchased a
beautiful small estate, close to his own, with which he presented us on
our wedding-day. He and my mother occupy the family-mansion of
Ballywindle; and, to tell the truth, my wife and I are more there than
at home. As for Dicky, the old man has corrupted him altogether, and
he is his constant companion on his little Irish pony. He speaks with
a stronger brogue even than my uncle--at which the latter is so
delighted, that he has sunk L.1000 in the name of the little fellow; so
that, when he comes of age, he will have a comfortable nest-egg to
depend upon.
Sir Oliver has now his flag, and commands at ----; and De Walden, Sir
Henry Oakplank--I beg his pardon--soon after the action already
related, was made commander, and eventually post.
He was recently ordered home, and allowed to call at Havanna, and to
give Mademoiselle Sophie and Monsieur Duquesné a passage in his ship;
but he somewhat infringed the letter of the admiral's license, by
converting Mademoiselle Duquesné into Lady Oakplank before embarking.
They paid us a visit immediately after being paid off, on his arrival
in England, and are now rusticating in Switzerland, on a visit to his
ill-fated mother's relations.
My excellent cousin, Dick Lanyard, after having attained the rank of
commander, married a rich widow with a good piece of land in
Devonshire, and as she could not dispense with him, he left the
service, and now lives ashore happily, under the wing of his loving
mate, who, knowing the misery and inconvenience of losing one good
husband, seems determined to take mighty good care of this one.
Old Davy Doublepipe has inherited a goodly sum of money from Alderman
Sprawl, a kinsman of his, and is now the master of a fine London ship
in the Jamaica trade, as kind to his passengers, from all accounts, as
he used to be to his brother officers and shipmates.
I frequently hear from my Jamaica friends, who are prosperous and
happy, and Listado, the boisterous Listado, has, contrary to all
expectation, so far subsided, and settled down, as to take Mr M****'s
place in the management of the business at Havanna, and from all I can
learn his heart is none the worse of his disappointment. As for Massa
Quacco, he at once installed himself as butler, without thinking it at
all necessary to ask any questions. He certainly takes more liberty
with me than any other servant, and makes his remarks very
freely.--"Ah, massa, lucky for you, you touch in dat river wid de
leetle felucca."
"As how, Master Quacco?"
"Oh! you would never hab know what it was to have so good a sarvant if
you had not--but ater all, dis gooder countree more as Africa, if
people only would speak Englis, such as one gentleman can onderstand;
and de sun could be persuade to sine upon him sometime--Ah! almost more
better countree as Jamaica, so I bery well content to take my rest in
him."
* * * * *
"Give me back, give me back, the wild freshness of morning,
Its tears and its smiles are worth evening's best light."
So sang Master Thomas Moore, and so singeth Benjamin Brail; albeit the
_burden_ he beareth is any thing but mellow. But chant as we may,
until our most sweet voices be hoarse, as that of the croaking raven,
we cannot bring back one minute of our existence.
Possibly you may know this, if you are a sharp fellow, without my being
so oracular; but, friend, if you are not bat-blind, it will evince to
you that although the time has arrived when we _must_ part company,
still I am loath to belay, and coil down myself, or to let go and chuck
the end of the line to you, even when I have no excuse for holding on
any longer.
But let us be pathetic--so get out your bandana, and prepare to blow
your nose most touchingly.
Since the last of the events recorded in the preceding pages occurred,
many a long year has slid away.
The hair that was then dark and clustering, has become thin and
grizzled--although, what is it to you, whether I am bald or wigged?
The arm that was strongly knit and vigorous, is now weak and
trembling--for which you don't care one farthing. The spirits, then so
light and elastic that they danced half in air, in the merry breeze and
jocund sunshine, over every happy undulation of the clear smooth swell
of early life, are now dead and water-logged, like a swamped buoy that
has been staved by the rough weather we all must look to meet
with;--never to float again. My _Nelly_ was then Miss Helen Hudson, a
happy laughing girl; she is now a little sharp-visaged anxious matron;
her daughters growing up around her, and budding into womanhood, and
her boys (for she has brought me a whole bushelful of small Brails),
glorying in the exuberance of glee incidental to the spring of life,
like so many young _what-do-ye-call ums_; for I am in a hurry to get
done--and have no handy simile for the nonce. "Master Brail! Master
Brail! you had better copy the parish register at once." Patience, my
dear boy--Patience, we shall not long cross each other, for we are now
about bearing up finally on our separate courses.
Many of the friends I have lived amongst and loved, and whose
heartstrings were in turn wound around me, have dropped, one by one,
like seared leaves in autumn, into the narrow-house, whither we are
all, at sea or on shore, fast journeying.
As for me Benjie, when bowling along with all the canvass I could
spread (sometimes more than I could well carry), before the cheerful
breeze of prosperity, a sudden gust has, more than once, blown my
swelling expectations out of the boltropes into ribbons, proving, by
sore experience, that here below it is not a trade-wind; and not sudden
squalls only, severe for the moment, but soon over; my strained bark
has often been tossed by rough and continuous gales, so that, more than
once, I have hardly escaped foundering. Periods of sickness and
languishing have not been wanting, wherein the exhausted spirit has
faintly exclaimed in the morning, "Would God it were evening!" and at
evening, "Would God it were morning!"
For many a weary day, and restless night, Death himself--and how much
more appalling his aspect _here_, than when faced manfully in open day,
with the pulses strong, and the animal spirits in brisk circulation,
amidst a goodly fellowship of brave companions!--yea, Death himself
hath shaken his uplifted dart over his prostrate victim from out the
heart-depressing twilight of a sick-room; yet the hand of the grim
feature was held, that he should not smite. And, oh! who can tell the
misery and crushing disappointment of the soul, awaking to the
consciousness of a dangerous illness, from feverish and troubled
sleep--such sleep as the overworked mariner sinks into, his lullaby the
howling of the storm, and roaring of the breakers, even when his vessel
is on the rocks, with the tumbling seas raging in multitudinous ebb and
flow amongst their black and slippery tangle-capped pinnacles, and the
yeasty foam-flakes, belched from their flinty caverns, falling thickly
on his drenched garments--sleep, wherein, most like, he meets the
friends of his youth, who have long gone before him to their account,
and wanders in imagination with them (all his recent sufferings and
actual danger, for a brief but blessed moment, utterly forgotten)
through the quiet valleys and happy scenes of his boyhood, never to be
by him again revisited--sleep, from which he is only roused to all the
horrors of his actual situation by the gritty rasping of the shattered
hull as it is thundered down with every send of the sea on the sharp
rocks, the groaning of the loosened timbers, the crashing and creaking
of the falling masts, the lumbering and rasping and rattling of the
wreck alongside, entangled by the rigging and loose ropes, that surges
up in foaming splashes, as if chafing to break adrift, and the cries of
his shipmates--and thus wrenched from Elysium, to find himself "even as
a man wrecked upon a sand, that looks to be washed off next tide?"
_That_ can he; and although his riven vessel has for the moment been
hove off the rocks, and rides clear of the reefs and broken water to
leeward, it may be by the mere reverberation of the ground-swell,--yet
he knows his only remaining cable is three parts chafed, and that,
although he may hang on by the single strand for an anxious day or two,
part it must at last.
However, it has pleased Heaven, even when the weather was at the worst
and darkest, and the wind raging at the loudest, and the mountainous
seas at the highest, to break away, and lance forth a beam of blessed
sunshine, which, breaking on his soul, might comfort him.
But, in such a situation, when the breezing up of the first gale may be
his last,--and no one can tell how long the gleam of fine weather will
continue,--every man must regard his past life, if he thinks at all, as
at the best but a feverish dream, and endeavour to prepare for the
inevitable issue of his anxiety and dread with the calmness and
self-possession of a reasonable and accountable being; keeping a bright
look-out for the life-boat of our blessed Religion, which all, sooner
or later, will be convinced affords the only sure means of escape, even
although it be seen glancing at first but as the seamew's wing in the
distance, amidst the obscurity of the horizon and dimness of the spray
and mist; yet, if anxiously hailed, and earnestly watched, it will
infallibly sheer alongside at last, when the fearful cry of "She parts,
she parts!" gushes high above the turmoil of troubled thoughts within,
and save all who have put their trust in it.
"And why this gloomy ending to a merry tale?"
Grudge it not, shipmate; but bear with me a brief moment still. We
begun in jest--we have ended in earnest--fit type of human life. We
have had a long cruise and many a good laugh together, and now we find
leave-taking is not joyous. But call it not a gloomy ending: solemn it
may be, and indeed has unwittingly become; but surely not unfitting, on
that account, the close of a work that has been the chief solace of a
long illness, and which, whenever it beguiles the tedium of a
sick-couch to a suffering brother, shall, in attaining that end, have
fully accomplished the desire of him who now bids all hands, kindly and
respectfully,
FAREWELL.
END OF VOLUME TWO.
EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND CO., PAUL'S WORK.