And now we bid farewell to Australia, and follow the _Sabrina_ in her
homeward voyage. It was soon evident that there was no love lost
between Captain Merryweather and Juniper Graves, nor between that
cunning gentleman and honest, straightforward Jacob. With Frank,
however, it was different. Jacob soon found that his place was often
taken by Juniper, and that himself was gradually losing his old place in
his master's confidence and good graces: Frank would also frequently
spend a long time in Juniper's cabin between decks, from which he
returned in a state of great hilarity.
"Jacob," said the captain to him one day, "I can't quite make it out. I
thought your master was an abstainer."
Jacob shook his head.
"I thought so too, captain; but I've found myself grievously mistaken.
He's no mind to give up the drink, you may be sure. He's only teetotal
when he cannot get it."
"I'm pretty sure," said the other, "that he takes it now. That fellow
Juniper Graves is no fit companion for him."
"Ah, captain, that man's been his ruin in Australia; and he'll be his
ruin when he gets back to the old country, if he doesn't shake him off.
But I fear he'll ne'er do that. The old lad hasna a fitter tool in all
the world nor yon chap. He'll not stick at anything. He's tried
robbery and murder, and he'll not be over nice about squeezing all he
can out of the poor young mayster."
Jacob then related to Captain Merryweather all he knew of Juniper
Graves' proceedings, and both he and the captain agreed together to
watch him, and do their utmost to keep poor Frank out of his clutches.
"I don't care so much about myself," said Jacob; "though I'm quite sure
he'd knock me overboard any day, if he'd the chance of doing it without
being seen, for he hates me worse nor poison. But I'm grieved to the
heart to see him winding hisself round Mayster Frank, who's so kind and
so warm-hearted and so free. I cannot forget how he risked his life to
save mine when we was coming out, as you know, captain; and I'd give my
own life for him now, if I could only get him clear of yon cunning
rascal as is leading him blindfold to hell."
"I've no doubt," said the other, "that this man has brought spirits on
board, and that he and Mr Oldfield drink in his cabin together."
"Yes," replied Jacob; "and you may be quite sure as he'll hook all the
brass out of the young mayster afore the voyage is over."
It was just as Jacob and the captain surmised. Juniper Graves had
brought a good stock of brandy and rum on board with him, and took care
that Frank Oldfield should pay handsomely for what he was willing, after
much solicitation, to part with. Let us look in upon them, as they sit
together by Juniper's berth. The time is midnight. Frank has stolen in
while the captain has been sleeping, for he fears being seen going there
by the honest sailor. There is a curtain hung up before the door to
hide the light. A small candle lamp hung on gymbals is fixed to the
woodwork, and throws a scanty gleam on the two figures which are engaged
in earnest play. Yet how different are these two, spite of their
companionship in evil! Frank, still beautiful in the refined cast of
features, out of which intemperance has not yet been able to sear the
traces of gentle blood and early culture; bright too and graceful in the
masses of rich chestnut hair which adorn a forehead high and noble, yet
now, alas! often crossed by lines of weary, premature care. Juniper, a
compound of cat, fox, monkey, wolf--every feature of his contemptible
face instinct with the greediest, most self-satisfied cunning. How
could two such, so widely different in natural character, be yet so
agreed? Alas! what will not the love of the drink, the slavery of the
drink, the tyranny of the drink accomplish? Each holds his cards
characteristically. Frank so carelessly that his adversary can see
them; Juniper grasping and shading his with jealous vigilance, lest a
single glimpse of them should be visible to his opponent. A large
spirit-flask stands under the berth close by Juniper's hand, and a glass
is within the reach of each. They play on, for a while, in silence.
Frank's money is clearly slipping through his fingers, though he is
allowed now and then to win, especially when he gets at all restive or
suspicious.
"There, Juniper," says Frank at last, and in no steady voice, "I declare
you'll clean me out before long. I do believe you've come on board for
the sake of squeezing me dry, as Jacob says."
"As Jacob says!" cries the other, with affected indignation and
astonishment. "I wish, sir, that conceited young puppy had never set
foot on this vessel. What does he know of the sort of aversions as are
suited to a gentleman of your birth and retrospects?"
"Juniper," replies the other, "I think the `aversions,' as you call
them, belong to you and not to me, if I may judge by your aversion for
poor Jacob; and as for `retrospects,' I think the less I say about them
the better."
"Well, sir, I don't know," replies Juniper, huffily; "you may amuse
yourself; sir, with my humble efforts at a superior style of soliloquy;
but I'm sure you're doing me injustice, and allowing yourself to be
bamboozled, if you let yourself be talked over by that canting
hypocrite."
"Steady--steady, my boy!" cries Frank; "you're half-seas over, Juniper,
or you could not say so. Come, hand us the brandy. We'll let Jacob
alone, and drink his health, and the health of all good lads and
lasses."
"As you please, sir," says Juniper, sulkily.
The next morning, when Frank Oldfield appeared on deck, his face and
whole appearance bore the unmistakable marks of last night's excess.
His very breath also told the same miserable tale. As for Juniper,
though he had drunk more cautiously, yet he did not show himself outside
his cabin till the afternoon. The captain had his eye upon him, and
could not help remarking to himself what a look of deadly malice and
venomous baseness pervaded every feature of the villain's face.
"He's up to some mischief more than common, I'll be bound," he said to
himself. "I'll keep a sharp look-out for you, my friend."
A short time after, and Juniper had disappeared, nor did he emerge from
his retreat till the evening. He was then in high spirits, laughing and
chatting with the sailors, and every now and then glancing up at Jacob,
who was walking up and down the poop with Captain Merryweather. At
last, just as Jacob was descending to the main-deck, and had his foot on
the topmost step of the ladder, the vessel lying over under a breeze on
the quarter, Juniper suddenly sprang up the steps in a state of great
excitement, shouting out, "A whale!--a whale!" Every one but the
captain turned suddenly round in the direction to which Juniper was
pointing, Jacob among the number, so that he hung partly over the water.
"Where?" cried several voices.
"There!" he exclaimed, suddenly stumbling with his whole might against
Jacob, so as very nearly to hurl him into the sea. Indeed, had not the
captain, who was on the watch, sprung forward and caught hold of him, he
must have inevitably gone overboard.
"You scoundrel!" shouted the captain, seizing Juniper by the collar, and
sending him spinning down the ladder on to the deck below, where he lay
half stunned for a few moments.
"I'm up to your tricks, my man," he added, as Juniper limped off to his
cabin, vowing vengeance.
"What's amiss, captain?" asked Frank, in great astonishment. "What's
poor Juniper been doing? No great harm in fancying he saw a whale, even
supposing he was mistaken."
"Mr Oldfield," said the captain, sorrowfully, "you don't know that
fellow. If ever there was a serpent in a human body, there's one in
that man of yours. Bear with me, my dear sir, if I offer you an earnest
word or two of caution. I can see that you are not the man you were
when we crossed the seas together before. We had a very happy voyage
then, and you remember how strong and settled you were on the subject of
total abstinence. Is it so now? Ah! don't let that wretched fellow
take all that's good and noble out of you. He don't care a straw for
you nor for any one but himself; I'm quite certain. He has mischief in
his eye, and there's a black heart under that smooth tongue--if I know
anything of what a rogue's like, and I've boarded many that have been
sailing under false colours in my day. You must excuse my speaking so
warmly and plainly, Mr Oldfield; but I really cannot bear to see you
running on to the reefs without giving you a word of warning."
"Thank you--thank you, captain," said Frank. "I know you mean kindly,
but I still think you're hard upon Juniper. I believe he's a faithful
fellow, with all his faults; and he isn't without them, I'll allow. But
he's sincerely attached to me, I believe, and that makes up for a good
deal."
"Attached to you, Mr Oldfield! don't think it! He's only making a tool
of you--he'll just get all he can out of you, and then he'll scuttle
you, and leave you to sink."
"I can't think it, I cannot indeed," was Frank's reply; "there's an old
proverb about giving a dog a bad name. He's no friend of yours, I know,
nor of Jacob Poole's either, and I'm sorry for it."
"And is he really acting a friend's part by you, Mr Oldfield?" asked
the other. Frank coloured, and evaded the question.
"At any rate, Jacob has no real cause to be at such daggers-drawn with
him," he said.
"Do you think not? Are you aware that he was trying to knock Jacob
overboard only a few minutes ago, and that he attempted his life at the
diggings?"
"Oh, captain, it's all fancy; you're mistaken, both of you. I'm sure
you're mistaken. Juniper's not the sort of fellow--he hasn't it in
him--he hasn't the pluck to commit murder, even if he had the will to do
it."
"Ah, Mr Oldfield," cried the captain, "I say again, beware of him; you
don't know him; if you'd seen the spite in his eye that I've seen you
wouldn't talk so. He has malice enough in him to take away life, if he
felt sure he could do it without detection and punishment. And is he
not, at this very moment, stealing away from you the life of body and
soul? Don't be offended, pray, Mr Oldfield; but I say again, I can't
bear to see you drifting on to the rocks, and not lend a helping hand to
keep you off."
"I'm not offended, my kind friend," said Frank sorrowfully; "you tell
the truth, I fear, when you say I'm drifting on to the rocks; and yet I
don't mean to go on as I'm doing now, I assure you--when I touch land
again I'm going to turn over a new leaf altogether, and paste it down
over the old ones, so that I shall make quite a fresh start."
"And do you think," asked the other, "that this fellow will let you keep
your good resolutions, even if you had the wish to do so?"
"Oh yes," replied Frank, carelessly; "I've told Master Juniper that his
reign will only last on board ship; I'm to be master, and we're both to
say `good-bye' to the drink when once we set foot on shore, and he's
quite agreeable."
"Of course he is," said the captain; "he'll be willing to promise
anything for the future, if you'll only let him keep his hold on you
now. Well, sir, I've warned you, and I hope you may lay it to heart."
"I will, my good friend; indeed I will," was the reply. That evening
Frank kept himself out of Juniper's reach, much to the disgust and
annoyance of that gentleman, who began to dread lest he had over-reached
himself; and set his old master against him. It was not so, however.
Juniper had become necessary to Frank, and a day or two found them as
fast friends as ever.
And now the _Sabrina_ had accomplished half her homeward course, and
many a heart on board rejoiced in the hope of a speedy and prosperous
completion of the voyage.
It was a chilly and boisterous afternoon, the clouds were hurrying in
leaden-coloured layers along the sky, the sea was all in a foam, and
patches of whitish upper clouds, beneath which the lower drift was
scudding, threw a lurid light over the wide expanse of ocean. The wind,
which had hitherto been favourable, now veered, and obliged them to
tack. The captain, at this juncture, was on the poop, with Frank
Oldfield by him.
"I haven't seen Mr Juniper Graves to-day," said the former.
"To tell you the truth," answered Frank, "he and I have been having a
few words together."
"I'm not sorry for it," remarked the captain drily; "nothing serious,
however, I hope."
"Nothing very, perhaps; but the matter's simply this: I've been fool
enough to play cards with him for rather high stakes lately, and I fancy
that I've detected my man peeping over my cards, and using a little
sleight of hand in his shuffling too."
"I'll be bound he has," remarked the other.
"If he'd been a poor man," added Frank, "I could have excused it; but
the fellow's got a whole fortune in nuggets and notes stowed about him.
He's a sort of walking `Crocus,' as he told me once, when he wasn't over
sober,--meaning `Croesus,' of course."
"And so you've given him a little of your mind, I suppose."
"Yes; and it's wounded my gentleman's dignity considerably; so there he
is below, hugging his gold, and comforting himself in his own way, which
isn't much in your line or Jacob's, captain, and I wish it wasn't in
mine."
"In other words," said Captain Merryweather, "he's pretty nearly drunk
by this time."
"You're somewhere about right," was the reply. Immediately after this
short dialogue the captain proceeded to give the orders for tacking in a
stentorian voice, as the wind was high.
"Ready, ho! ready!" he cried. All were standing ready at their posts.
Then the word was given to the man at the wheel.
"Helm's a-lee!" roared the captain. There was rattling of chains,
flapping of canvas, and shuffling of feet.
"Mainsail h-a-u-aul!" bellowed the captain in a prolonged shout. Round
went the great sail under the swift and strong pulls of willing hands.
"Let go, and h-a-u-aul!" once more roared out the captain in a voice of
thunder.
It was just at this moment, when all was apparent confusion, when ropes
were rattling, feet stamping, sails quivering, that Juniper Graves
emerged from his cabin on to the main-deck, his head bare, and his sandy
hair flying out wildly into the breeze. His eyes were strained and
bloodshot, and his whole appearance was that of a person in an agony of
terror. Aroused from his drunken sleep by the noise overhead, and
terrified to find the vessel heeling over to the other side, he
imagined, in his drunken bewilderment, that the ship had struck, and
that himself and his gold were in danger of perishing with her. Filled
with frenzy at this idea, he rushed out upon deck, where the general
apparent confusion confirmed his fears; then he sprung upon the
bulwarks, gazed around him in utter dismay at the crew in busy motion
about him, tottered on his insecure standing-ground, caught at a rope to
save himself; missed it, and then, with a terrible shriek of horror and
despair, fell headlong overboard into the boiling waters.
"Save him! oh, save him!" cried Frank Oldfield imploringly. "Where is
he? Let me go, let me go," he screamed, for he was about to plunge
overboard, and the captain was holding him back with his powerful grasp.
"It's no use, Mr Oldfield; it'll only be two lives instead of one."
"Oh, yes, yes," besought Frank; "put the ship about--lie-to--throw over
a hen-coop, a life-buoy, for mercy's sake--the poor wretch isn't fit to
die," and he still struggled to free himself.
"Listen to reason, sir," said the captain. "We can do nothing; the
ship's running nine knots, and no one knows where to look for him;
nothing can save him, miserable man; he's sunk no doubt, at once, and
all the faster for having his gold about him."
"Can nothing be done?" cried Frank, beseechingly.
"Nothing, I assure you," replied the other; "there's not a trace of him
to be seen, is there, Mr Walters?" The first mate shook his head.
"We're far enough off now from the spot where he fell in. It's in mercy
to you, sir, that he's been taken away."
Frank sank upon a seat, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing
bitterly.
Yes; the tempter was gone, gone to his account--suddenly cut off in the
midst of his sins, hurried away in righteous retribution by the very
death himself had planned for Jacob Poole. Yes; the tempter was gone,
and the tempted still remained. Would he take home to his heart the
lesson and warning God had thus sent him? The tempter was gone, but,
alas! the temptation was not gone. Frank had even now in his cabin
several flasks of that drink which had already borne such miserable
fruits for himself and the guilty wretch just hurried into the presence
of his offended God. He had bought the spirits from Juniper at an
exorbitant price, but would he use them now, after what had happened?
The night after Juniper's awful death he sat in his cabin weeping.
Thoughts of home, of mother, father, Mary, crowded in upon his heart.
The days that once were, when he would have joined with real willingness
and hearty earnestness the band of abstainers, as he sat in all boyish
sincerity at Mr Bernard Oliphant's table, eager to make the trial and
bear the cross, were fresh upon his memory now. And all the bitter
past, with its shameful, degrading, sinful records, gathered its thick
shadows round his soul. What should he do? He sank upon his knees and
prayed--prayed to be forgiven, prayed that he might do better--and then
he rose, and was in part comforted. And now, what should he do with the
spirits which were still in his possession? He took them out and ranged
the flasks on his berth. His scuttle stood open. One minute and he
could have thrown them all into the sea. Conscience said, "Do it, and
do it at once." But another voice whispered, "Pity to waste so much
good stuff; drink these out, but only a moderate quantity at a time, and
then you can renounce the drink for ever." He listened to the second
voice, and conscience sighed itself to sleep.
Alas! alas! what fiend like the fiend of drink? It can steal away every
good resolution, drown the voice of conscience, and make a man cheat
himself into the belief that the indulgence of to-day is a warrant and
guarantee for the abstinence of to-morrow. Frank was satisfied; he felt
sure that it would be wiser to wean himself gradually from his drinking
habits; he would use the strictest moderation with his present little
stock, and then he should more readily forsake it altogether when this
was gone. And so he continued to drink, but more and more sparingly, as
he himself supposed, because he was really training himself to a gradual
surrender of the drink, but in reality because he dreaded to be left
altogether without it. And so the taste was kept up during the
remainder of the voyage, and Frank Oldfield landed on the shores of his
native country with the thirst strong upon him.