We lament the fate of our companion—the Captain offers Morgan his
liberty, which he refuses to accept—we are brought before him and
examined—Morgan is sent back into custody, whither also I am remanded
after a curious trial
The news of this event affected my fellow prisoner and me extremely, as
our unfortunate companion had justly acquired by his amiable
disposition the love and esteem of us both; and the more we regretted
his untimely fate, the greater horror we conceived for the villain who
was undoubtedly the occasion of it. This abandoned miscreant did not
discover the least symptom of concern for Thompson’s death, although he
must have been conscious to himself of having driven him by ill usage
to the fatal resolution, but desired the captain to set Morgan at
liberty again to look after the patients. Accordingly one of the
corporals was sent up to unfetter him, but he protested he would not be
released until he should know for what he was confined; nor would he be
a tennisball, nor a shuttlecock, nor a trudge, nor a scullion, to any
captain under the sun. Oakum, finding him obstinate, and fearing it
would not be in his power to exercise his tyranny much longer with
impunity, was willing to show some appearance of justice and therefore
ordered us both to be brought before him on the quarter-deck, where he
sat in state, with his cleric on one side, and his counsellor Mackshane
on the other. When we approached, he honoured us with this salutation:
“So, gentlemen, d—n my blood! many a captain in the navy would have
ordered you both to be tucked up to the yard’s arm, without either
judge or jury, for the crimes you have been guilty of; but, d—n my
blood, I have too much good nature in allowing such dogs as you to make
defence.” “Captain Oakum,” said my fellow-sufferer, “certainly it is in
your power (Cot help the while) to tack us all up at your will, desire,
and pleasures. And perhaps it would be petter for some of us to be
tucked up than to undergo the miseries to which we have been exposed.
So may the farmer hang his kids for his diversion, and amusement, and
mirth; but there is such a thing as justice, if not upon earth, surely
in heaven, that will punish with fire and primstone all those who take
away the lives of innocent people out of wantonness, and parparity
(look you). In the mean time. I shall be glad to know the crimes laid
to my charge, and see the person who accuses me.” “That you shall,”
said the captain; “here, doctor, what have you to say?” Mackshane,
stepping forward, hemmed a good while, in order to clear his throat,
and, before he began, Morgan accosted him thus: “Doctor Mackshane, look
in my face—look in the face of an honest man, who abhors a false
witness as he abhors the tevil, and Cot be judge between you and me.”
The doctor, not minding this conjuration, made the following speech, as
near as I can remember: “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Morgan; to be sure
what you say is just, in regard to an honest man, and if so be it
appears as how you are an honest man, then it is my opinion that you
deserve to be acquitted, in relation to that there affair, for I tell
you what, Captain Oakum is resolved for to do everybody justice. As for
my own part, all that I have to allege is, that I have been informed
you have spoken disrespectful words against your captain, who, to be
sure, is the most honourable and generous commander in the king’s
service, without asparagement or acception of man, woman, or child.”
Having uttered this elegant harangue, on which he seemed to plume
himself, Morgan replied, “I do partly guess, and conceive, and
understand your meaning, which I wish could be more explicit; but,
however, I do suppose, I am not to be condemned upon bare hearsay; or,
if I am convicted of speaking disrespectfully of Captain Oakum, I hope
there is no treason in my words.” “But there’s mutiny, by G—d, and
that’s death by the articles of war!” cried Oakum: “In the meantime,
let the witnesses be called.” Hereupon Mackshane’s servant appeared,
and the boy of our mess, whom they had seduced and tutored for the
purpose. The first declared, that Morgan as he descended the
cockpit-ladder one day, cursed the captain, and called him a savage
beast, saying, he ought to be hunted down as an enemy to mankind.
“This,” said the clerk, “is a strong presumption of a design, formed
against the captain’s life. For why? It presupposes malice
aforethought, and a criminal intention a priori.” “Right,” said the
captain to this miserable grub, who had been an attorney’s boy, “you
shall have law enough: here’s Cook and Littlejohn to it.” This evidence
was confirmed by the boy, who affirmed, he heard the first mate say,
that the captain had no more bowels than a bear, and the surgeon had no
more brain than an ass. Then the sentinel, who heard our discourse on
the poop was examined, and informed the court that the Welshman assured
me, Captain Oakum and Doctor Mackshane would toss upon billows of
burning brimstone in hell for their barbarity. The clerk observed, that
there was an evident prejudication, which confirmed the former
suspicion of a conspiracy against the life of Captain Oakum; for,
because, how could Morgan so positively pronounce that the captain and
surgeon would d—n’d, unless he had intention to make away with them
before they could have time to repent? This sage explanation had great
weight with our noble commander, who exclaimed, “What have you to say
to this, Taffy? you seem to be taken all a-back, brother, ha!” Morgan
was too much of a gentleman to disown the text, although he absolutely
denied the truth of the comment. Upon which the captain, strutting up
to him with a ferocious countenance, said, “So Mr. son of a bitch, you
confess you honoured me with the names of bear and beast, and
pronounced my damnation? D—n my heart! I have a good mind to have you
brought to a court-martial and hang’d, you dog.” Here Mackshane, having
occasion for an assistant, interposed, and begged the captain to pardon
Mr. Morgan with his wonted goodness, upon condition that he the
delinquent should make such submission as the nature of his
misdemeanour demanded. Upon which the Cambro-Briton, who on this
occasion would have made no submission to the Great Mogul, surrounded
with his guards, thanked the doctor for his mediation, and acknowledged
himself in the wrong for calling the image of Cot a peast, “but,” said
he, “I spoke by metaphor, and parable, and comparison, and types; as we
signify meekness by a lamb, lechery by a goat, and craftiness by a fox;
so we liken ignorance to an ass, and brutality to a bear, and fury to a
tiger; therefore I made use of these similes to express my sentiments
(look you), and what I said before Cot, I will not unsay before man nor
peast neither.”
Oakum was so provoked at this insolence (as he termed it,) that he
ordered him forthwith to be carried to the place of his confinement,
and his clerk to proceed on the examination of me. The first question
put to me was touching the place of my nativity, which I declared to be
the north of Scotland. “The north of Ireland more like!” cried the
captain; “but we shall bring you up presently.” He then asked what
religion I professed; and when I answered “the Protestant,” swore I was
an arrant Roman as ever went to mass. “Come, come, clerk,” continued
he, “catechise him a little on this subject.” But before I relate the
particulars of the clerk’s inquiries, it will not be amiss to inform
the reader that our commander himself was an Hibernian, and, if not
shrewdly belied, a Roman Catholic to boot. “You say, you are a
Protestant,” said the clerk; “make the sign of the cross with your
finger, so, and swear upon it to that affirmation.” When I was about to
perform the ceremony, the captain cried with some emotion, “No, no,
d—me! I’ll have no profanation neither. But go on with your
interrogations.” “Well then,” proceeded my examiner, “how many
sacraments are there?” To which I replied, “Two.” “What are they?” said
he. I answered, “Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.” “And so you would
explode confirmation and marriage altogether?” said Oakum. “I thought
this fellow was a rank Roman.” The clerk, though he was bred under an
attorney, could not refrain from blushing at this blunder, which he
endeavoured to conceal, by observing, that these decoys would not do
with me, who seemed to be an old offender. He went on with asking, if I
believed in transubstantiation; but I treated the notion of real
presence with such disrespect, that his patron was scandalised at my
impiety, and commanded him to proceed to the plot. Whereupon this
miserable pettifogger told me, there was great reason to suspect me of
being a spy on board, and that I had entered into a conspiracy with
Thompson, and others not yet detected, against the life of Captain
Oakum, which accusation they pretended to support by the evidence of
our boy, who declared he had often heard the deceased Thompson and me
whispering together, and could distinguish the words, “Oakum, rascal,
poison, pistol;” by which expressions it appeared, we did intend to use
sinister means to accomplish his destruction. That the death of
Thompson seemed to confirm this conjecture, who, either feeling the
stings of remorse for being engaged in such a horrid confederacy, or
fearing a discovery, by which he must have infallibly suffered an
ignominious death, had put a fatal period to his own existence. But
what established the truth of the whole was, a book in cyphers found
among my papers, which exactly tallied with one found in his chest,
after his disappearance. This, he observed, was a presumption very near
positive proof, and would determine any jury in Christendom to find me
guilty. In my own defence, I alleged, that I had been dragged on board
at first very much against my inclination, as I could prove by the
evidence of some people now in the ship, consequently could have no
design of becoming spy at that time; and ever since had been entirely
out of the reach of any correspondence that could justly entail that
suspicion upon me. As for conspiring against my captain’s life, it
could not be supposed that any man in his right wits would harbour the
least thought of such an undertaking, which he could not possibly
perform without certain infamy and ruin to himself, even if he had all
the inclination in the world. That, allowing the boy’s evidence to be
true (which I affirmed was false and malicious), nothing conclusive
could be gathered from a few incoherent words; neither was the fate of
Mr. Thompson a circumstance more favourable for the charge; for I had
in my pocket a letter which too well explained that mystery, in a very
different manner from that which was supposed. With these words, I
produced the following letter, which Jack Rattlin brought to me the
very day after Thompson disappeared; and told me it was committed to
his care by the deceased, who made him promise not to deliver it
sooner. The clerk, taking it out of my hand, read aloud the contents,
which were these;
‘Dear Friend,—I am so much oppressed with the fatigue I daily and
nightly undergo, and the barbarous usage of Doctor Mackshane, who is
bent on your destruction as well as mine, that I am resolved to free
myself from this miserable life, and, before you receive this, shall be
no more. I could have wished to die in your good opinion, which I am
afraid I shall forfeit by the last act of my life; but, if you cannot
acquit me, I know you will at least preserve some regard for the memory
of an unfortunate young man who loved you. I recommend it to you, to
beware of Mackshane, whose revenge is implacable. I wish all prosperity
to you and Mr. Morgan, to whom pray offer my last respects, and beg to
be remembered as your unhappy friend and countryman,
‘William Thompson.’
This letter was no sooner read, than Mackshane, in a transport of rage,
snatched it out of the clerk’s hands, and tore it into a thousand
pieces, saying, it was a villainous forgery, contrived and executed by
myself. The captain and clerk declared themselves of the same opinion,
although I insisted of having the remains of it compared with other
writings of Thompson, which they had in their possession; and I was
ordered to answer the last article of my accusation, namely, the book
of ciphers found among my papers. “That is easily done,” said I. “What
you are pleased to call ciphers, are no other than the Greek
characters, in which, for my amusement, I keep a diary of everything
remarkable that has occurred to my observation since the beginning of
the voyage, till the day in which I was put in irons; and the same
method was practised by Mr. Thompson, who copied mine.” “A very likely
story,” cried Mackshane; “what occasion was there for using Greek
characters, if you were not afraid of discovering what you had wrote?
But what d’ye talk of Greek characters? D’ye think I am so ignorant of
the Greek language, as not to distinguish its letters from these, which
are no more Greek than Chinese? No, no, I will not give up my knowledge
of the Greek for you, nor none that ever came from your country.” So
saying, with an unparalleled effrontery, he repeated some gibberish,
which by the sound seemed to be Irish, and made it pass for Greek with
the captain, who, looking at me with a contemptuous sneer, exclaimed,
“Ah, ah! have you caught a tartar?” I could not help smiling at the
consummate assurance of this Hibernian, and offered to refer the
dispute to anybody on board who understood the Greek alphabet. Upon
which Morgan was brought back, and, being made acquainted with the
affair, took the book, and read a whole page in English, without
hesitation, deciding the controversy in my favour. The doctor was so
far from being out of countenance at this detection, that he affirmed
Morgan was in the secret, and repeated from his own invention. Oakum
said, “Ay, ay, I see they are both in a story;” and dismissed my
fellow-mate to his cockloft, although I proposed that he and I should
read and translate, separately, any chapter or verse in the Greek
Testament in his possession, by which it would appear whether we or the
surgeon spoke truth. Not being endued with eloquence enough to convince
the captain that there could be no juggle nor confederacy in this
expedient, I begged to be examined by some unconcerned person on board,
who understood Greek. Accordingly, the whole ship’s company, officers
and all, were called upon deck, among whom it was proclaimed that, if
anyone of them could speak Greek, he or they so qualified should ascend
the quarter-deck immediately. After some pause, two foremast men came
up, and professed their skill in that language, which, they said, they
acquired during several voyages to the Levant, among the Greeks of the
Morea. The captain exulted much in this declaration, and put my journal
book into the hands of one of them, who candidly owned he could neither
read nor write; the other acknowledged the same degree of ignorance,
but pretended to speak the Greek lingo with any man on board; and,
addressing himself to me, pronounced some sentences of a barbarous
corrupted language, which I did not understand. I asserted that the
modern Greek was as different from that spoken and written by the
ancients, as the English used now from the old Saxon spoke in the time
of Hengist: and, as I had only learned the true original tongue, in
which Homer, Pindar, the Evangelists, and other great men of antiquity
wrote, it could not be supposed that I should know anything of an
imperfect Gothic dialect that rose on the ruins of the former, and
scarce retained any traces of the old expression: but, if Doctor
Mackshane, who pretended to be master of the Greek language, could
maintain a conversation with these seamen, I would retract what I had
said, and be content to suffer any punishment be should think proper to
inflict. I had no sooner uttered these words than the surgeon, knowing
one of the fellows to be his countryman, accosted him in Irish, and was
answered in the same brogue; then a dialogue ensued between them, which
they affirmed to be in Greek, after having secured the secrecy of the
other tar, who had his cue in the language of the Morea, from his
companion, before they would venture to assert such an intrepid
falsehood. “I thought,” said Oakum, “we should discover the imposture
at last. Let the rascal be carried back to his confinement. I find he
must dangle.” Having nothing further to urge in my own behalf, before a
court so prejudiced with spite, and fortified with ignorance against
truth, I suffered myself to be reconducted peaceably to my
fellow-prisoner, who, hearing the particulars of my trial, lifted up
his hands and eyes to Heaven, and uttered a dreadful groan: and, not
daring to disburden his thoughts to me by speech, lest he might be
overheard by the sentinel, burst forth into a Welsh song, which he
accompanied with a thousand contortions of face and violent gestures of
body.