companion with profuse compliments on his knowledge of the inanimate
human body, and nicknamed him 'Ralph-ower-mony.' After this
extraordinary being had finished his gruesome revenge on the dead body
of his master, it was placed in a hastily-constructed deal casement,
and put on top of the longboat, and then covered over with the Union
Jack and an awning, so that it might be kept cool.
There is no class of Englishmen who regard the national flag with such
reverence as the sailor; to him it is a divinity, used as an emblem of
glory, or sorrow, as the case may be. He disdains making the noisy,
vulgar use of it that is sometimes practised at meetings by unctuous,
ill-read politicians, whose abnormal egotism, impudence and ignorance
cause them to boast of a devotion for the flag equalled by no one else.
The sailor, on the other hand, speaks of it as a thing too sacred to
act circus games with. If his shipmate dies at sea, he is sewn up in
canvas and covered over with the Union Jack; a heavy weight is placed
at his feet, and, with heads bowed low, they silently commit his
remains to the deep. If a sailor dies in port, the flag is used to
cover the coffin as a solemn token of having died while serving under
its beneficent protection. Think of the beautiful sentiment that
governs the sailor's ideal of using it, and then, if you can, think of
the blatant political person and the use he puts it to! How it reminds
you of Petticoat Lane, and makes you pray that England may be delivered
from such disgusting impertinence!
Mr Munroe had assumed command, and discussed with his crew the idea of
a burial at sea. This was strenuously opposed by Ralph, who insisted
that the body should be carried to England in case the question of foul
play should arise. This course was adopted, and great precaution was
taken to prevent premature decomposition. A smart breeze from the N.E.
carried the little brig rapidly towards the land, and on the morning of
the third day she sailed into the roadstead for which she had been
steered. The dual courses had worked out an accurate landfall. Before
the anchor was let go, the pilot cobble came alongside.
"Where's the captain?" asked the pilot.
"The beggar's dead, sir," answered Ralph, ignoring the respect he owed
to his superior officer, Mr Munroe, who requested him to keep his
tongue quiet and allow him to speak. The anchor was dropped, sails
furled and flag put half-mast, and the pilot was requested to go ashore
and acquaint the owner with what had happened. At eleven o'clock every
forenoon a few well-known owners met in the parlour of an inn, there to
discuss matters of personal and public interest. The banking accounts
and characters of their neighbours who did not belong to the coterie
were pulled remorselessly to pieces. If they happened to have
progressive ideas and were successful, their speedy bankruptcy was
predicted. Each member of the party had "churchwardens" kept in a
bracket with his name on, and only one glass of whiskey and one pipe of
tobacco was indulged in until the evening sitting, when they did not
stick at trifles. But the keynote of these forenoon and evening
sittings was _money_. Mr Hobkirk and his friends had just got quietly
seated and the conversation turned on the vessel that had been observed
to anchor in the roads, when the pilot in wild excitement burst in upon
their privacy, exclaiming:
"The _Hebe_ has put back with the captain's dead body aboard!"
"How did he come by his death?" asked several of the party; "he was a
stout, strong-looking man?"
"They say he died of drink," said the pilot.
"Ah," responded the comforting friends, "we told you, Hobkirk, what you
might expect. You remember the voice coming down the chimney? That was
his voice. We have been informed he could talk two ways. We never
believed in him, and told you so."
"I admit it, gentlemen, I admit it. I have been deceived, but please do
not refer to the chimney affair again; that unnerves me."
Instructions were given to the pilot to land the body of Captain
Macgregor, and without any show of mourning the remains of this once
brilliant man were put to rest in a drunkard's grave, close by the sea,
far away from his own home. The story of how he came by his death and
what subsequently occurred was told in all its ghastly detail to the
pilots, who in turn spread it abroad, without diminishing the account
given to them. Another captain was quickly engaged, and the _Hebe_
sailed on her voyage. The late owners of Captain Macgregor were
informed of his death, and about two weeks afterwards a comely-looking
lady with a little boy of four years old called at Mr Hobkirk's house
and asked for an interview. She was received with unfeigned
displeasure. The owner commenced a vigorous tirade against the man who
he considered had wronged him by killing himself with drink. The lady
suddenly cut this flow of vindictive denunciation short by stamping her
foot on the floor and shouting out: "Stop! I will listen to this no
longer. I am the widow of the late captain. I have come from Scotland,
not to hear your coarse abuse of him, but to learn where you have laid
his body. Tell me this, and then I desire to hear no more from you. His
effects and any money due from you to him you may send to this
address."
Hobkirk interjected:
"He has no money due."
"Very well, then," responded Mrs Macgregor, "there will be none to
send; but I must have his effects."
Hobkirk by this time had read the address. It startled him. He became
apologetic and asked if the baronet whose address she had given was in
any way related to her.
"Yes," said she, "he is my father, and my late husband's uncle."
"Ah," said Hobkirk, "I knew my judgement was right in believing him to
belong to a family of distinction. He was a man of great ability, and
had a fascinating address. What a sad thing that he should have given
way to drink."
"I must request you not to speak of Captain Macgregor in this way to
me. Whatever faults he may have had are covered up in his tomb. If he
has wronged you, be frank and tell me, so that I may atone for it in
some way. You have my address. I came here principally to visit his
grave and arrange for a tombstone to be put up. Please be good enough
to allow someone to take me to it."
"If I may, I should like to take you to it myself."
But the little lady declined. The fine dignity of her bearing, and the
charm of her bow when she said "good-day" to him, covered the parochial
potentate with shame for having received and treated her as a
commonplace captain's wife. Mr Hobkirk conveyed to his friends at their
evening sitting at the inn all that had passed between himself and his
distinguished visitor. He was smartly censured for being shortsighted
in not discerning that she belonged to the gentry, and he was charged
with the possibility of getting the leading citizens of the town into
bad repute.
"Why," said they, "she may write to the papers about it, and then there
will be a fine ado."
The tragedy of her husband's death and her visit created a sensation of
no small importance in the district. Local gossip made much of it, and
for a time the great Mr Hobkirk lost caste. The poor, bereaved lady was
the centre of sympathy. They thought of her standing by the grave-side,
holding her little son by the hand, and, wrapped by the veil of sorrow,
offering up a humble prayer to Almighty God, and then quietly passing
from the scene of sadness and death to make her way home.
IV
PIRACY IN THE ARCHIPELAGO
Who can fully estimate all the world owes to Providence and nature in
propagating the fervid Scottish race? They are found in every
continent, climbing from the three-legged stool in an office, or from
any other subordinate position. They toil upward with caution and
perseverance. They always aim at the top of the tree, and multitudes of
them succeed. But one of the Scot's extraordinary characteristics is
his deference to superiors. At an early age the average Scot is
characterized by this passion to get on by thrift, love of "siller," a
puritanic mode of thought, and an imperishable love of his country
which, however, does not prevent him from leaving it in order to enter
into mercantile or other pursuits in the farthest parts of the
earth--or the nearest, it really does not matter--so long as he gets a
decent start.
Archie Macvie's father, who was an elder of a Presbyterian Kirk,
managed one of the flax factories in an important town north of the
Forth. Archie was the youngest of the lads, and by far and away the
cleverest, but he had made up his mind to engage himself as an
apprentice aboard an English brig that was discharging flax for the
owners of the factory. This determination came as a great shock to the
Macvies, who had pictured their boy in the position one day of a
popular minister of their own denomination. Every strictly proper
device was used to change the mind of their laddie, but all to no
purpose. His imagination, and perhaps his desire to minimise the grief
of his parents, led him to urge that in a few years he would come to
them, not only a captain, but an owner. The old people were secretly
pleased to hear these aspirations from the lips of their much-beloved
boy, but they felt it their duty to treat the case with becoming
solemnity. "Ah, Archie," said his father, "I must warn you never to
allow the things of this world to take possession of your thoughts in a
way that will keep religion from you. I would remind you of the words
of Solomon: 'Better is little with the fear of the Lord than great
treasure and trouble therewith.'" However, he went to sea.
After four years and a half of hard training he had gained the
reputation of being one of the smartest young fellows that sailed out
of his port. He had become quite a favourite, not only with his
shipmates, but with the captain and owner. There was neither surprise
nor jealousy when the master recommended that his indentures should be
endorsed, and that he should be given the mate's situation, which had
become vacant. At this time he was in his twentieth year, and before he
had reached twenty-one his owner gave him command of the vessel which
about six years before he had joined as an apprentice. His rapid
advancement and singular success as a shipmaster made his
contemporaries speak of him as likely to reach the very highest place
in the profession before he had attained his thirtieth year. Their
estimate of the highest position was really very modest, as the largest
vessel belonging to the port did not exceed 700 tons deadweight, and of
these there were only about half-a-dozen. The general public rarely saw
them except when they came off a long voyage and had repairs to do.
Those occasions were looked upon as not merely incidental, but
historic. The whole country-side turned out to witness the advent of
what they conceived to be a leviathan; the vessel herself was dressed
from truck to rail on every mast with bunting, and there was a
corresponding display of it on shore. Events such as births, deaths,
marriages, and other more or less interesting doings were accurately
remembered by a visitation of this kind. The local almanac chronicled
the occasion as minutely as it did the death of Nelson or the accession
of Queen Victoria to the throne. So that if any lapse of memory
occurred a reference to this touchstone of local history put matters
right. Archie Macvie had longed for the time to come when someone would
offer him command of a large vessel. His reputation as a clever,
pushing, steady-going shipmaster had reached beyond the circle of local
critics, which entitled him to expect speedy promotion. His owner, as
well as other people, predicted great things of him, and it was
whispered that he had immediate prospects that were dazzling in their
lucrative possibilities. A landed proprietor, who owned the whole of a
handsome barque, had heard of his fame, and wrote requesting Macvie to
come and see him. The interview sealed the captain's future destiny. Mr
Rockfeller received him with becoming dignity; but after a few minutes'
conversation with the young captain his icy manner melted. He became
aware that the man whom he had asked to be seated in the
sumptuously-furnished drawing-room was his equal, if not his superior,
in knowledge and intelligence.
"Your youthful appearance surprises me," said the lord of the manor.
"Yes," responded the shrewd Scotsman; "I have been told that before,
and have often had reason to be grateful to a kind Providence in not
necessarily prohibiting me from occupying a position of trust because
of my juvenile appearance."
"Very good, very good," said Rockfeller. "And now, captain, I wish at
once to offer you command of the first vessel that brought gold from
Australia. Your wage will be L12 per month; and in order to give you a
good start I offer you an eighth of the _Boadicea_ at a low price.
If you have the money to pay for it, well and good; if not I will be
content to allow you to work it off."
"Your kindness overpowers me," replied Macvie; "I am sorry I have not
sufficient money saved to pay for the share you so generously give me
the opportunity of taking, and as I make it a rule never to purchase a
thing I cannot pay for in cash, I am reluctantly compelled to refuse
it."
"Very well," said the owner, "give me what you can spare, and I will
forego the balance, and hand you a bill of sale for eight
sixty-fourths. I do this not only because of the favourable impression
you have made, but to make you feel that your interest is not merely
that of a commander, but that of part owner with myself."
"I thank you; but may I suggest that this generosity be postponed until
you have tested whether I will suit you or not?" said the lucky
captain.
"No, I will risk that," replied Mr Rockfeller. "And now there is
nothing left for me to say except to request that you join the vessel
at once; and you have a free hand to do what you consider best with
her."
Captain Macvie hurried home and conveyed to his young wife the good
fortune that had come to them. He also informed his aged parents, whom
he had not seen since his first home-leaving, of all that had taken
place, and expressed his regret that he could not visit them before
sailing on a voyage to the Piraeus, but hoped to do so on his return.
This letter became a family heirloom. The joy of the old people was
reflected on the whole family, and also on their friends, and the
congratulations were numerous and sincere. In less than a week from the
time of being engaged, the _Boadicea_ was towed over the bar, and
she sailed away followed by a north-east wind. The hurrahs of the
visitors after embarking on the tug reverberated the joyous tidings of
goodwill, and soon the ship and her jolly crew passed from view into
the southern haze.
The Eastern question was causing great anxiety in diplomatic circles;
trouble was fast brewing into open hostility, and before the
_Boadicea_ arrived at the port of discharge, the great Russian war
of 1854 had broken out with all its hellish mismanagement and criminal
indifference to the needs of the finest soldiers in the whole world.
They were badly generalled, shockingly clothed and meagrely fed on
provisions that the ordinary civilian would scarcely give to swine.
Complaints of the grossest mismanagement were sent home and were
unheeded; while the predatory, heartless scoundrels who had contracts
were allowed to amass wealth by shamelessly robbing poor Tommy of his
food and clothes. Mon Dieu! What forbearance the thinking, sympathetic
portion of the British people must have had to endure it, knowing that
their fellow-subjects and kinsfolk were being done to death by some
contractors and by the callousness and incompetency of dunderheaded
politicians and drawing-room warriors! It is a sickening subject that
cannot be approached without feelings of anger.
The _Boadicea_ made a quick passage, and was boarded on her arrival by
swarms of Levantine gentlemen, each clamouring for first place to get
her in hand to charter. The declaration of war had created a wild
demand for transport tonnage. Sensational freights were offered for the
veriest rattletraps, and as the young commander of the _Boadicea_
estimated his craft to be one of the finest of her class afloat, he
made a counter-bid which startled the Grecian modesty of his
interesting visitors. The negotiations were animated, and before the
day closed the vessel was chartered at a rate that would pay back her
original cost in less than twelve months. Over and above this it was
agreed that the captain should receive legitimate gratuities that
amounted to more than double his wage per month. The director of
transports ordered the vessel to be taken to Malta to load stores
immediately she had finished discharging, and gave instructions that
overtime should be worked in order to get the cargo of much needed
supplies to the seat of war. It was a stirring time for the captain and
his crew. In four days the holds were emptied and she sailed from the
Piraeus on the fifth with 180 tons of sand ballast aboard. In five days
from leaving Athens she arrived in the beautiful harbour of Valetta,
and four days after left again with a full cargo of foods, stores and
other supplies for Constantinople for orders. Every stitch of canvas
was set after getting clear of the harbour; studding sails lower and
aloft were spread to the kiss of the singing wind, and the officers
were made to understand that there was to be hard cracking on; nothing
was to be taken in until the maximum amount of endurance of spars,
ropes and rigging had been reached. The breeze freshened and the sea
curled its white tops into angry combers Captain Macvie walked the
starboard quarterdeck with an air of dignity and luxury of dress that
would have called forth the supreme contempt of his associates of
earlier days. They would have stigmatized him as a fine-weather dandy,
and not a true British sailor. The captain had never been past
Gibraltar until he got command of his present vessel. As a matter of
fact, he had rarely been off the coast, and never at any time as far
south as Cape Finisterre. He had acquired large ideas of the
magnificence that should be observed by a captain aboard a vessel of
the _Boadicea's_ size and class. He had heard also that the men
liked to see monarchical display, and that is why he adopted it so
naturally. The third day after leaving Malta the forecastle hands were
congregated on the topgallant forecastle during the dogwatch from six
to eight. The discussion was of an animated character. The second
officer, who was an old hand in these waters, stood amongst them, and
the speaker frequently referred to him in order that his statements
might be confirmed. When the second officer came aft, the captain
remarked that the boys seemed to have had a heated discussion.
"Mr Robb, may I take the liberty of asking if it is anything that may
not be conveyed to me?"
"Not at all," said Mr Robb; "they were yarning about pirates that
infest the Grecian Archipelago. They sneak out of the bays and from
under the islands with the suddenness of a rocket. They have very swift
schooners, many of them built in America for the slave trade, and they
are full of well-armed, bloodthirsty villains who stick at nothing." It
was according to the strictly observed ethics of South Spainer
discipline that the commander never was supposed to so far lower the
supremacy of high office as to speak directly to a common sailor, but
only through his officers. Mr Robb took it for granted that this law
had been rigidly observed, and therefore said to the captain.
"You know that fair-haired man who was talking so excitedly?"
Macvie, not wishing to appear familiar with his men, and perhaps in
order to impress the officer with an air of majesty, replied:
"No, sir, I do not know him, but I think I _recognize_ the sailor to
whom you desire to call my attention. I saw him gesticulating, and I
think I heard him swear frightfully."
"That may be, sir," said the second officer, "but he means no harm by
it. He is indeed one of the best and bravest sailors attached to the
British Mercantile Marine; and were it not a breach of etiquette, I
would ask you to allow him to give you a brief account of all the
curious experiences and hardships he has gone through in a short life."
"My curiosity impels me to consent, but my judgement forbids such
familiarity. Had I been in charge of the _Vanquisher_ I might have
yielded; as it is, I must conform to the duty that devolves upon a
person in my position by asking you to be the medium of communication
of this sailor's strange adventures," said the captain.
"Very good," replied Robb, "then here is the story: I do not think he
would like me to tell you, but he was a pirate himself for over twelve
months. It came about like this. He and I were shipmates five years
ago. The barque we were in was discharging at Athens. We asked for
liberty to go ashore one Saturday night; he got a few glasses of grog
too much, and became pally with some Greek sailors who spoke broken
English. They asked him to go with them to some place of amusement, and
in spite of my pleading with him not to do so, he went; the result
being they decoyed him aboard their own vessel, which proved to be a
pirate schooner. When he came to himself after his drunken sleep, the
vessel was far out at sea. He was soon made to understand what he would
be expected to do, and the terrible conditions under which he would be
permitted to live. He was asked to take the oath of fidelity to their
cause, which carried with it awful obligations and consequences if not
rigidly adhered to; and after the hazy alcoholic stupor had been
shivered out of him, he grasped the situation, and not only agreed to
their code, but became, externally, the most enterprising of the gang.
They were indebted to him for much useful information, though for some
time his _bona-fides_ were suspected because of his pushful partiality
for conflict with any nationality rather than his own. He persuaded his
friends that six out of ten British vessels kept firearms and powder
magazines aboard, and that foreigners, such as Swedes, Norwegians,
Danes and Germans gave in much sooner than his own countrymen. They
cordially agreed with this, hence rarely gave chase after a Britisher
except when he suggested it, and it was policy for him to do this
sometimes in order to keep on perfectly good terms with them. He has
told me that over and over again they boarded Norwegian vessels laden
with flax, tallow or grain, and the crew asked them to take what they
wanted and no resistance would be made. This, he says, was the best
plan, because it saved blood from being spilt on either side. They used
to fill the craft's holds from the cargo of the captured vessel; take
any money or valuables, such as chronometers, that might be aboard; all
firearms, gunpowder and implements of warfare had to be given up; and a
squad of armed pirates covered their comrades who were operating for
the benefit of the whole.