THE HOOGHLY--OLD JENNINGS--SHORT-HANDED--THE THREE BOYS--FRANK--NICK--
ERNEST--DR LAVIE--TENERIFFE.
It was the afternoon of a day late in the November of the year 1805.
His Majesty's ship _Hooghly_, carrying Government despatches and stores,
as well as a few civil and military officers of the East India Company's
service, was running easily before the trade wind, which it had caught
within two days' sail of Madeira--and was nearing the region of the
tropics. The weather, which had been cold and stormy, when the
passengers left England some weeks before, had been gradually growing
bright and genial; until for the last three or four days all
recollections of fog and chill had vanished from their minds. The sky
was one vast dome of the richest blue, unbroken by a single cloud, only
growing somewhat paler of hue as it approached the horizon line. The
sea stretched out into the distance--to the east, an endless succession
of purple wavelets, tipped here and there with white; to the west, where
the sun was slowly sinking in all its tropical glory, one seething mass
of molten silver.
It was indeed a glorious sight, and most of our readers will be of
opinion that those who had the opportunity of beholding it, would--for
the time at least--have bestowed little attention on anything else. But
if they had been at sea as long as Captain Wilmore, they might perhaps
have thought differently. Captain Wilmore had been forty years a
sailor; and whether given, or not given, to admire brilliant skies and
golden sunsets in his early youth, he had at all events long ceased to
trouble himself about them. He was at the outset of this story sitting
in his cabin--having just parted from his first lieutenant, Mr Grey--
and was receiving with a very dubious face the report of an old
quartermaster. A fine mastiff was seated by the captain's chair,
apparently listening with much gravity to what passed.
"Well, Jennings, Mr Grey tells me you have something to report, which
he thinks ought to be brought straight to me, in order that I may
question you myself about it. What is it? Is it something about these
gentlemen we have on board? Are they dissatisfied, or has Lion here
offended them?"
"No, cap'en," said the old sailor; "I wish 'twas only something o' that
sort. That would be easy to be disposed of, that would."
"What is it, then? Is it the men, who are grumbling--short rations, or
weak grog, or what?"
"There's more rations and stronger grog than is like to be wanted,
cap'en," said Jennings, evasively, for he was evidently anxious to
escape communicating his intelligence, whatever it might be, as long as
possible.
"What do you mean, Jennings?" exclaimed Captain Wilmore, roused by the
quartermaster's manner. "More rations and stronger grog than the men
want? I don't understand you."
"Well, cap'en, I'm afraid some on 'em won't eat and drink aboard this
ship no more."
"What, are any of them sick, or dead--or, by heaven, have any of them
deserted?"
"I'm afeared they has, cap'en. You remember the Yankee trader, as sent
a boat to ask us to take some letters to Calcutta?"
"Yes, to be sure; what of him?"
"Well, I've heard since, as his crew was going about among our chaps all
the time he was aboard, offering of 'em a fist half full of guineas
apiece, if they'd sail with him, instead of you."
"The scoundrel!" shouted Captain Wilmore. "If I'd caught him at it, I'd
have run him up to the mainyard, as sure as he's alive."
"Ay, cap'en; and I'd have lent a hand with all my heart," said the old
seaman. "But you see he was too cunning to be caught. He went back to
his ship, which was lying a very little way off, for there wasn't a
breath of wind, if you remember. But he guessed the breeze would spring
up about midnight, so he doesn't hoist his boats up, but hides 'em under
his lee, until--"
"I see it all plain enough, Jennings," broke in the captain. "How many
are gone?"
"Well, we couldn't make sure for a long time, Captain Wilmore," said
Jennings, still afraid to reveal the whole of his evil tidings. "Some
of the hands had got drunk on the rum fetched aboard at Madeira, and
they might be lying about somewhere, you see--"
"Well, but you've found out now, I suppose?" interjected his questioner
sharply.
"I suppose we has, cap'en. There's Will Driver, and Joel Grigg, and
Lander, and Hawkins, and Job Watson--not that _he's_ any great loss--and
Dick Timmins, and--"
"Confound you, Jennings! how many?" roared the captain, so fiercely,
that the dog sprang up, and began barking furiously. "Don't keep on
pottering in that way, but tell me the worst at once. How many are
gone? Keep quiet, you brute, do you hear? How many, I say?"
"About fifteen, cap'en," blurted out the quartermaster, shaking in his
shoes. "Leastways there's fifteen, or it may be sixteen, as can't be
found, or--"
"Fifteen or sixteen, or some other number," shouted the skipper. "Tell
me the exact number, you old idiot, or I'll disrate you! Confound that
dog! Turn him out."
"Sixteen's the exact number we can't find," returned Jennings, "but some
of 'em may be aboard, and turn up sober by-and-by."
"Small chance of that," muttered the captain. "Well, it's no use
fretting; the question is, What's to be done? We were short-handed
before--so you thought, didn't you, Jennings?"
"Well, cap'en, we hadn't none too many, that's sartain; and we should
have been all the better for half a dozen more."
"That comes to the same thing, doesn't it?" said the skipper, who, vexed
and embarrassed as he was, could not help being a little diverted at the
old man's invincible reluctance to speaking out.
"Well, I suppose it does, sir," he answered, "only you see--"
"I don't see anything, except that we are in a very awkward scrape,"
interposed the other. "It will be madness to attempt to make the
passage with such a handful as we have at present. If there came a
gale, or we fall in with a French or Spanish cruiser--" He paused,
unwilling to put his thoughts into words.
"'Twouldn't be pleasant, for sartain," observed Jennings.
"But, then, if we put back to England--for I know no hands are to be had
at Madeira, we should be quite as likely to encounter a storm, or a
Frenchman."
"A good deal more like," assented the quartermaster.
"And there would be the loss and delay, and the blame would be safe to
be laid on me," continued the captain, following out his own thoughts
rather than replying to his companion's observations. "No, we must go
on. But then, where are we to pick up any fresh hands?"
"We shall be off the Canaries this evening, cap'en," said Jennings.
"We've been running along at a spanking rate with this wind all night.
The peak's in sight even now."
"The Canaries are no good, Jennings. The Dons are at war with us, you
know. And though there are no ships of war in the harbour at Santa
Cruz, they'd fire upon us from the batteries if we attempted to hold
communication with the shore."
"They ain't always so particular, are they, sir?" asked the sailor.
"Perhaps not, Jennings. But the Dons here have never forgiven the
attack made on them seven or eight years ago, by Nelson."
"Well, sir, they might have forgiven that, seeing as they got the best
of it I was in that, sir--b'longed to the _Foxy_ and was one of Nelson's
boat's crew, and we got nothing out of the Dons but hard knocks and no
ha'pence that time."
"That's true. But you see Nelson has done them so much harm since, that
the damage they did him then seems very little comfort to them. No, we
mustn't attempt anything at the Canaries."
"Very good, sir. Then go on to the Cape Verdes. If this wind holds, we
shall soon be there, and the Cape Verdes don't belong to the Dons."
"No; to the Portuguese. Well, I believe that will be best. I have
received information that the French and Spanish fleets are off Cape
Trafalgar; and our fellows are likely to have a brush with them soon, if
they haven't had it already."
"Indeed, sir! Well, Admiral Nelson ain't likely to leave many of 'em to
follow us to the Cape. We're pretty safe from them, anyhow."
"You're right there, I expect, Jennings," said the skipper, relaxing for
the first time into a grim smile. "Well, then, shape the ship's course
for the Cape Verdes, and, mind you, keep the matter of those scoundrels
deserting as quiet as possible. If some of the passengers get hold of
it, they'll be making a bother. Now you may go, Jennings. Stay, hand
me those letters about the boys that came on board at Plymouth. I've
been too busy to give any thought to them till now. But I must settle
something about them before we reach the Cape, and I may as well do so
now."
The quartermaster obeyed. He handed his commanding officer the bundle
of papers he had indicated, and then left the cabin, willing enough to
be dismissed. The captain, throwing himself with an air of weariness
back on his sofa, broke the seal of the first letter, muttering to
himself discontentedly the while.
"I wonder why I am to be plagued with other people's children? Because
I have been too wise to have any of my own, I suppose! Well, Frank is
my nephew, and blood is thicker than water, they say--and for once, and
for a wonder, say true. I suppose I _am_ expected to look after him.
And he's a fine lad too. I can't but own that. But what have I to do
with old Nat Gilbert's children, I wonder? He was my schoolfellow, and
pulled me out of a pond once, when I should have been drowned if he
hadn't I suppose _he_ thought that was reason enough for putting off his
boy upon me, as his guardian. Humph! I don't know about that. Let us
see, any way, what sort of a boy this young Gilbert is. This is from
old Dr Staines, the schoolmaster he has been with for the last four or
five years. I wonder what he says of the boy? At present I know
nothing whatever about him, except that he looks saucy enough for a
midshipman, and laughs all day like a hyena!
"`Gymnasium House, Hollingsley,
"`September 29th, 1805.
"`Sir,--You are, no doubt, aware that I have had under my charge, for
the last five years, Master George Gilbert, the son of the late Mr
Nathaniel Gilbert, of Evertree, a most worthy and respectable man. I
was informed, at the time of the parent's decease, that you had been
appointed the guardian of the infant; but as Mr Nathaniel had, with his
customary circumspection, lodged a sum in the Hollingsley bank,
sufficient to cover the cost of his son's education for two years to
come, there was no need to trouble you. You were also absent from
England, and I did not know your direction.
"`The whole of the money is not yet exhausted; but I regret to say I am
unable to retain Master George under my tuition any longer. I must beg
you to take notice that his name is _George_, as his companions are in
the habit of calling him "Nick," giving the idea that his name, or one
of his names, is Nicodemus. Such, however, is not the case, George
being his only Christian appellative. Why his schoolfellows should have
adopted so singular a nomenclature I am unable to say. The only
explanation of it, which has ever been suggested to me, is one so
extremely objectionable, that I am convinced it must be a mistake.
"`But to proceed'--(`A long-winded fellow this!' muttered the captain as
he turned the page; `who cares what the young scamp's called?')--`But to
proceed. I cannot retain Master George any longer. His continually
repeated acts of mischief render it impossible for me any longer to
temper the justice due to myself and family with the mercy which it is
my ordinary habit to exercise. I will not detail to you his offences
against propriety'--(`thank goodness for that,' again interjected
Captain Wilmore, `though I dare say some of his offences would be
entertaining enough')--`I will not detail his offences--they would fill
a volume. I will only mention what has occurred to-day. If there is
any practice I consider more objectionable than another, it is that of
using the dangerous explosives known as fireworks. Master Gilbert is
aware that I strictly interdict their purchase; in consequence of which
they cannot be obtained at the only shop in Hollingsley where they are
sold, by any of my scholars. But what were my feelings--I ask you,
sir--when I ascertained that he had obtained a large number of
combustibles weeks ago, and had concealed them--actually concealed them
in a chest under Mrs Staines's bed! The chest holds a quantity of
linen, and under this he had hidden the explosives, thinking, I
conclude, that it was seldom looked into. Seldom looked into! Why,
merciful heaven, Mrs Staines is often in the habit of examining even by
candlelight'--(`I say, I can't read any more of this,' exclaimed the
captain; `anyhow, I'll skip a page or two.' He turned on a long way and
resumed.)--`When I found out this morning that he was missing, I felt no
doubt that my words had produced even a deeper effect than I had
designed. Mrs Staines and myself both feared that in his remorse he
had been guilty of some desperate act; and we made every effort,
immediately after breakfast, to discover the place of his retreat.
Being St Michael's day, it was a whole holiday, and we were thus enabled
to devote the entire day to the quest. It has been extremely rainy
throughout; but when we returned, two hours ago, exhausted and wet to
the skin, after a fruitless search, we found him, dry and warm, awaiting
us in the hall. This was some relief; but judge of our feelings when we
discovered that the shameless boy had put on my camlet-cloak and
overalls--they had been missing, and I had been obliged to go without
them! he had taken Mrs Staines's large umbrella, and had waited for us,
from breakfast time, round the corner, under the confident assurance
that we should go to look for him. Sir, it has been his amusement to
follow us about all day, gratifying his malevolent feelings with the
spectacle of our exposure to the elements, our weariness, our
ever-increasing anxiety! You will not wonder after this, sir--'"
"There, that will do," once more exclaimed the skipper, throwing aside
the letter with a chuckle of amusement. "I must say I don't wonder at
the doctor's refusing to keep him any more after that! Well, his father
wanted him to be a sailor, and maybe he won't make a bad one. Only we
must have none of his tricks on board ship. I'll have a talk with him,
when I can spare the time. That's settled. And now I can see Dr Lavie
about this other lad, young Warley. Hallo there, Matthews, tell the
doctor I am at liberty now."
In a few minutes the person named was ushered into Captain Wilmore's
presence. The new comer was a gentlemanly and well-looking young man,
and bore a good character, so far as he was known, in the ship. The
captain was pleased with his appearance, and felt at the moment more
than usually gracious--possibly in consequence of his recent mirth over
George Gilbert's exploits. He spoke with unusual kindness.
"Well, doctor, what can I do for you? You have come to speak to me
about young Ernest Warley, I think?"
"Yes, Captain Wilmore, I want to ask your advice. His father was the
best friend I ever had. He took me by the hand when I was left an
orphan without a sixpence, and put me to school, and took care of me.
When he was dying, he made me promise to do my best for his boy, as he
had for me. But I'm afraid I can't do that, glad as I should be to do
it, if I could--"
"But I don't understand, doctor. Old Warley--I knew a little of him--
was a wealthy man, partner in Vanderbyl and Warley's house, one of the
best in Cape Town. The lad can't want for money."
"Ah, he does, though. His elder brother has all the money. He was the
son of the first wife, old Vanderbyl's daughter, and all the money
derived from the business went to him. The second wife's fortune was
settled on Ernest; but it was lost, every farthing of it, in the failure
of Steinberg's bank last year."
"Won't the elder brother do anything?"
"No more than very shame may oblige him to do. He hated his father's
second wife, and hates her son now."
"How old is the lad?"
"Past nineteen; very steady and quiet, but plenty of stuff in him. He
wouldn't take his brother's money, if he had the chance; says he means
to work for himself. He wanted to be a parson, and would have gone this
autumn to the University, but for the smash of the bank. He'll do
anything now that I advise him, but I don't know what to advise."
"`Nineteen!'--too old for the navy. `Wanted to be a parson!'--wouldn't
do for the army. `Do anything you advise!' Are you sure of that? Few
young fellows now-a-days will do anything but what they themselves
like."
"Yes, he'll do anything I advise, because he knows I really care for
him. Where he fancies he's put upon, he can be stiff-backed and defiant
enough. I've seen that once or twice. Ernest hasn't your nephew
Frank's temper, which is hot and hasty for the moment, but is right
again the next. He doesn't come to in a minute, as Frank does, but he's
a good fellow for all that."
The captain's brow was overcast as he heard his nephew's name. "Frank's
spirit wants breaking, Mr Lavie," he said in an angry tone. "I shall
have to teach him that there's only one will allowed aboard ship, and
that's the captain's. Frank can ride and leap and shoot to a bead they
tell me, but he can't command my ship, and he shan't. I won't have him
asking for reasons for what I order, and if he does it again--he'll wish
he hadn't. But this is nothing to the purpose, Mr Lavie," he added,
recovering himself. "We were talking about young Warley. You had
better try to get him a clerkship in a house at Cape Town. You mean to
settle there yourself after the voyage, do you not?"
"Well, no, sir, I think not I had meant it, but my inclination now
rather is to try for a medical appointment in Calcutta. You see it
would be uncomfortable for Ernest at the Cape with his brother--"
"I see. Well, then, both of you had better go on to Calcutta with me.
I dare say--if I am pleased with the lad--I may be able to speak to one
of the merchants or bankers there. What does he know? what can he do?"
"He is a tolerable classical scholar, sir, and a good arithmetician, Dr
Phelps told me--"
"That's good," interposed the captain.
"And he knows a little French, and is a fair shot with a gun, and can
ride his horse, though he can't do either like Frank--"
"Never mind Frank," broke in Captain Wilmore hastily. "He'd behave
himself at all events, which is more than Frank does. Well, that will
do, then. You two go on with the _Hooghly_ to Calcutta, and then I'll
speak to you again."
Mr Lavie rose and took his leave, feeling very grateful to his
commanding officer, who was not in general a popular captain. He was in
reality a kind-hearted man, but extremely passionate, as well as
tenacious of his authority, and apt to give offence by issuing unwelcome
orders in a peremptory manner, without vouchsafing explanations, which
would have smoothed away the irritation they occasioned. In particular
he and his nephew, Frank Wilmore, to whom reference more than once has
been made, were continually falling out Frank was a fine high-spirited
lad of eighteen, for whom his uncle had obtained a military cadetship
from a director, to whom he had rendered a service; and the lad was now
on his way to join his regiment. Frank had always desired to be a
soldier, and was greatly delighted when he heard of his good fortune.
But his uncle gave him no hint that it was through him it had been
obtained. Indeed, the news had been communicated in a manner so gruff
and seemingly grudging, that Frank conceived an aversion to his uncle,
which was not removed when they came into personal contact on board the
_Hooghly_.
The three lads, however, soon fraternised, and before they had sighted
Cape Finisterre were fast friends. Many an hour had already been
beguiled by the recital of adventures on shore, and speculation as to
the future, that lay before them. Nor was there any point on which they
agreed more heartily than in denunciation of the skipper's tyranny, and
their resolve not to submit to it. When Mr Lavie came on deck, after
his interview in the captain's cabin, they were all three leaning over
the bulwarks, with lion crouching at Frank's side, but all three, for a
wonder, quite silent. Mr Lavie cast a look seaward, and saw at once
the explanation of their unusual demeanour. The ship had been making
good way for the last hour or two, and was now near enough to the
Canaries to allow the Peak of Teneriffe to be clearly seen, like a low
triangular cloud, and the rest of the island was coming gradually into
clearer sight Mr Lavie joined the party, and set himself to watch what
is perhaps the grandest spectacle which the bosom of the broad Atlantic
has to exhibit. At first the outline of the great mountain, twelve
thousand feet in height, presented a dull cloudy mass, formless and
indistinct. But as the afternoon wore on, the steep cliffs scored with
lava became visible, and the serrated crests of Anaga grew slowly upon
the eye. Then, headland after headland revealed itself, the heavy dark
grey masses separating themselves into hues of brown and red and
saffron. Now appeared the terraced gardens which clothe the cultivated
sides, and above them the picturesque outlines of the rocks intermingled
with the foliage of the euphorbia and the myrtle, and here and there
opening into wild mountain glens which the wing of the bird alone could
traverse. Lastly, the iron-bound coast became visible on which the surf
was breaking in foaming masses, and above the rocky shelf the long low
line of spires and houses which distinguish the town of Santa Cruz. For
a long time the red sunset light was strong enough to make clearly
distinguishable the dazzling white frontages, the flat roofs, and
unglazed windows, standing out against the perpendicular walls of
basaltic rock. Then a dark mist, rising upwards from the sea, like the
curtain in the ancient Greek theatre, began to hide the shipping in the
port, the quays, and the batteries, till the whole town was lost in the
darkness. Higher it spread, obscuring the masses of oleander, and
arbutus, and poinsettia in the gardens, and the sepia tints of the rocks
above. Then the white lava fissures were lost to the eye, and the Peak
alone stood against the darkening sky, its masses of snow bathed in the
rich rosy light of the expiring sun. A few minutes more and that too
was swallowed up in darkness, and the spell which had enchained the four
spectators of the scene was suddenly dissolved.