OLD JERRY'S REPORT OF IFFLEY--FEARS OF THE PRESSGANG--RESOLVE TO GO
INLAND--COMMENCE OUR JOURNEY--SEIZED BY MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN--IFFLEY'S
TREACHERY--FIND MYSELF ABOARD A MAN-OF-WAR BOUND FOR INDIA--IFFLEY'S
CONDUCT--A GALE--FALL OVERBOARD--SAVED--PUNISHMENT ABOARD--ACCUSED OF
STEALING--SENTENCED TO BE FLOGGED--IFFLEY'S TRIUMPH.
Several days passed by, and I heard nothing of Iffley. The fears of my
dear wife in consequence at length subsided, and she began to see that,
after all, she had probably thought worse of my old shipmate than he
deserved. We agreed that he must have been somewhat astonished at
seeing me alive, and the husband of one whom he had hoped to marry
himself, and that chiefly through bashfulness he had not been able to
bring himself to come up and address us.
"Bashfulness!" said Aunt Bretta, when she heard this remark; "I cannot
say that I should ever have given Charles Iffley the credit for a
superabundance of that quality. However, strange things happen. He may
have picked it up at sea, or among his associates on shore; but I doubt
it."
So did I, on reflection. Still, I was glad by any means to calm my
wife's apprehensions, which were the more painful because they were so
very indefinite. In the evening there was a knock at the door, and old
Jerry Vincent walked in.
"Sarvant, ladies; sarvant all," said he, pulling off his hat to Aunt
Bretta and my wife, who handed him a chair.
"Have you heard anything of that young man we told you of?" asked my
wife. It was evidently the question she was most anxious to put.
"Yes, I have, marm, and not much good either," was the answer. "I've
found out that he is aboard the _Royal William_; she's the flagship just
now at Spithead. He doesn't often come ashore, and that made me so long
hearing of him."
"What is he on board? Is he an officer?" asked Aunt Bretta.
"An officer, indeed, whew!" exclaimed Jerry. "Well, he is a sort of
one, maybe. Not a very high rating, though. He's neither more nor less
than a boatswain's mate. What do you think of that, marm?"
"Charles Iffley a boatswain's mate!" said my wife in a tone of pity. "I
thought he was an officer long ago."
"Well, marm, I made inquiries on board, and among several people who
knew him on shore, and from what I could learn, he would have been an
officer long ago if he had conducted himself well. He was placed on the
quarter-deck, for you see he has plenty of education, and knows how to
act the gentleman as well as any man. But there are some men who never
get up the tree but what they slip down again, and never can keep a
straight course long together. Charles Iffley is of that sort. For
something or other he did, he got disrated and dismissed the service;
but he entered it again, and, from what I am told, I shouldn't be
surprised but what, if his early history isn't known, he'll work his way
up again. The thing that is most against him is his extravagance.
Every farthing he makes in prize-money or pay he spends on shore, in
acting the fine gentleman. People can't, indeed, tell how he gets all
the money he spends. Of course, if it was known on board the pranks he
plays on shore, his leave would be stopped; but he is so clever that he
humbugs the officers, and they think him one of the most steady and best
men. You see there's another thing which brings him into favour with
the captain and first lieutenant; he has a knack of finding men and
getting them to join the ship, by making her out to be the most
comfortable ship in the service, and there's no man knows better how to
ferret out seamen, and to lead a pressgang down upon a score of them
together. I learned all these things from different people, do ye see,
but putting this and that together, I made out my story as I tell it to
you. To my mind, Charles Iffley is a man I would stand clear of.
Depend on't, he's a deep one."
Jerry Vincent stayed with us some time, and then he said he had an
engagement and must go away. As he did so he beckoned me out of the
room, and I accompanied him to the door.
"I'll tell you what it is, Mr Weatherhelm," said he, "you have been
bred a seaman, and the pressgangs are very hot at work just now. They
take everybody who has been at sea, no matter what his present calling--
whether he has a wife and family depending on him or not. Now Iffley
knows that you have no protection, and he has the power of getting hold
of you. From what I hear, he's just the man to use it. If you was his
bosom friend, he'd do it; but if he owes you a grudge, depend on it
he'll not let you slip out of his gripe. He'd have been down on you
before now, but he got a broken head the other night, in attacking the
crew of a merchantman just come home from a three years' cruise round
the Horn, and had no fancy to be sent off to sea again when they had
only just put their foot on shore. However, he is now on his legs
again. If you stay here, you'll hear something of him before long; but
take my advice, just rig out as an old farmer, or a black-coated
preacher, or something as unlike yourself as you can, and take your wife
and go and live away somewhere up in the country. It's your only
chance. If you stay you'll be nabbed, as sure as my name is Jerry
Vincent."
I thanked the old man very much for his advice, and replied that I had
no doubt, on consideration, I should follow it.
"Oh, there's a good lad! Don't be waiting and considering. There's no
good comes of that. When a thing is to be done which must be done, go
and do it at once."
"Well, I will, Jerry, I will," I answered, shaking him by the hand. I
waited at the door, and while I watched him down the street I considered
what course I would pursue. I was unwilling to tell my wife what he had
said, because I knew it would agitate her very much, and I hoped that
Jerry thought worse of Iffley than he deserved. Of course, however, I
determined to consult Uncle Kelson, and to abide by his advice. It was
a serious consideration whether I would, on the mere chance of Iffley's
being able to get hold of me, give up my occupation, in which I was
succeeding so well, and go and live, for I knew not how long, in
comparative poverty, without anything to do. I made an excuse for
stepping out of the room to talk to Jerry, and my wife did not appear to
suspect that he had had anything more to say about Iffley. As soon as
she and my aunt had gone upstairs, I told Uncle Kelson all that I had
learned. He looked graver than usual while he listened to the account.
"Well, he must be a scoundrel if he could do it!" he exclaimed at last,
clenching his fist. "Still, such things have been done, but I did hope
that no seaman would be guilty of them." He was silent for some time,
and lost in reflection. "I'll tell you what, Will," said he at last,
"you must follow old Jerry's advice. It's sound, depend on it. That
old man has more wisdom in his little finger than many a man has in the
whole of his head. Go to your work to-morrow morning, and I'll look
down in the course of the day and see your employer, and explain matters
to him frankly. He, I have no doubt, will give you leave of absence for
a few weeks, and when you come back you can work double tides. If you
stay, you see, you'll be lost to him probably altogether."
So the matter was arranged. I was rather ashamed, however, at the
thought of having to go into hiding, as it were; but still I felt that
my wife's mind would be relieved from apprehension when once I was safe
away out of Portsmouth. Uncle Kelson had a sister married to a farmer
living in the north of Hampshire, and there we resolved to go.
The next day I went to my work as usual, and my uncle came down and had
a talk with my employer, and the whole matter was arranged to the
satisfaction of all parties.
"Come," said Uncle Kelson, "you had better at once take your places by
the coach, and start to-morrow. There is no time to be lost."
We found on getting to the coach-office that all the coaches were full.
At that time there was an immense traffic between Portsmouth and London.
A post-chaise was somewhat beyond our means, but we found a light
waggon starting, which took passengers, and Uncle Kelson and I agreed
that this would prove a convenient and very pleasant conveyance, as we
were in no hurry, and would not object to being some time on the road.
It was to start pretty early in the morning. My dear wife was delighted
at the thoughts of the journey, and speedily made the necessary
preparations. We sent on our trunk by a wheelbarrow, while we followed,
accompanied by Uncle Kelson. Even at that early hour the High Street
was astir,--indeed, in those busy times, both during day and night,
something or other was going forward. We passed several gangs of
men-of-war's men. Three or four men evidently just pressed, and who
showed a strong disinclination to go and serve their country, were being
dragged along by one of the gangs. I could not help pitying the poor
fellows; so did my wife.
"Oh, Willand," said she, "how thankful I am that you are not among
them!"
Our waggon was a very nice one, covered over with a clean white tilt,
and our waggoner, I saw at a glance, was an honest, good-hearted
chaw-bacon. He was dressed in the long white frock, thickly plaited in
front, which has been worn from time immemorial by people of his
calling. Our trunk and bags were put in; we shook hands with Uncle
Kelson, and having taken our seats just inside in the front part, with
plenty of straw for our feet to rest on, the waggoner whipped up his
four sturdy horses, and we began to move on. My dear wife pressed
closer to my side, and we began to breathe more freely; she thought I
was safe from the pressgang. We were just clear of the fortifications,
and were getting into the open country, when I saw the waggoner turn
round once or twice, and look over his shoulder behind him.
"What can they be after?" I heard him say. A minute more passed.
"Hillo, men, what does ye want here?" he exclaimed suddenly, as half a
dozen or more seamen sprang forward, and seized the horses' heads, while
others leaped up into the waggon.
"We are looking for a deserter," cried two or three of them. "Turn out,
my hearty; where are you stowed away?"
I felt, the instant the seamen appeared, that they had come to press me,
but these words revived my hopes of escape.
"There is no one here, my men, besides my wife and me that I know of," I
observed. "You have made a mistake, I suspect."
"Well, we must look," said the men; "we are not quite so green as to
take your word for it."
"You may look as much as you like, measters," said the waggoner; "you'll
find no one among my goods, unless he's stowed hesself away unknowest to
me."
The seamen began to poke their cutlasses in between the packages, and
would undoubtedly have run any one through who had been inside them.
While they were thus employed, three or four other men came up.
"What are you about, mates?" exclaimed one of them, whose voice I felt
sure I knew. "The man you want is sitting in the front of the waggon!"
On hearing these words my poor wife uttered a piercing shriek, and fell
fainting into my arms. She, too, had recognised the voice, though the
speaker had kept out of her sight; it was that of Charles Iffley. The
seamen instantly sprang on me, and seized me by the arms.
"Hillo, mate, you were going to give us the go-by," said one of them as
they passed a rope round my elbows before I could lift an arm in my
defence.
They literally dragged me from my poor wife. She would have fallen, but
the waggoner humanely scrambled up into his waggon, and placed her
securely at the bottom of it. She was still, I saw, completely
insensible. I scarcely regretted that she was so, for I did not at the
moment foresee the consequences. The honest carter was in vain
expostulating with the seamen for seizing one whom he considered placed
under his especial charge, to be delivered safe at the journey's end.
"I don't think as how you have any right to take that gentleman; he's no
more a sailor nor I bes," I heard him say.
"Not a sailor! Why, the man has been at sea all his life till the last
year or so," said Iffley, now coming up, and throwing off all disguise;
"he's, moreover, to my certain knowledge, a deserter from his Majesty's
ship _Brilliant_, so attempt to detain him if you dare."
These words had a great effect on the honest waggoner, who did not
attempt to make any further efforts to detain me.
Generally speaking, the most ruffian-like and least scrupulous of the
crew were employed in the pressgangs, for they often had very brutal
work to perform. The men into whose hands I had fallen were as bad as
any I had ever met. They seized me with the greatest ferocity, dragged
me out of the waggon, and would not listen to my prayers and entreaties
to be allowed to wait till my wife came to her senses; and before even I
had time to speak to the waggoner, in spite of all the violent struggles
I made to free myself, they hauled me off along the road as if I had
been one of the worst of malefactors. In this they were encouraged by
Iffley, who seemed to take a malignant pleasure in seeing me
ill-treated, though he did not himself attempt to lay hands on me. When
I tried to cry out, I found a gag thrust into my mouth, and thus I was
rendered speechless as well as in every other way powerless.
My captors hurried me away, and with a feeling amounting to agony, I
lost sight of the waggon. At first it occurred to me that Iffley had
gone back for the purpose, as I dreaded, of speaking to my wife, and
perhaps adding to her misery; but had he entertained such a thought, he
had not dared to face her, for I saw him directly afterwards following
close behind me, encouraging the other men to hasten along.
Though I made all the resistance of which I was capable, in the hopes
that something or other might occur to enable me to free myself, we soon
reached the entrance to Portsmouth.
Instead, however, of proceeding down the High Street, Iffley led the way
down one of the by-streets to the right. Just as we were passing under
the ramparts I looked up, and there I saw walking up and down, as if to
enjoy the breeze, a person whom I recognised at a glance as Uncle
Kelson. The moment I saw him, hope revived in my breast. I could at
all events tell him to go in search of my wife. Perhaps he might even
find means to liberate me; but when I tried to sing out, the horrible
gag prevented me speaking. I could only utter inarticulate cries and
groans.
In vain I shrieked. He did not even turn his head; the sounds were too
common. He thought, probably, that it was only some drunken seaman, who
had outstayed his leave, dragged back to his ship.
At length, for a moment, he looked round. I struggled more vehemently
than before. I fancied that he must recognise me, but, urged by Iffley,
my captors dragged me on faster than ever, and turning a corner we were
hid from his sight. My strength was now almost exhausted. I could
offer but a faint resistance. Hope, too, had abandoned me. Still I
tried to make myself heard, on the possibility of some one knowing me
and undertaking to carry a message to my uncle and aunt. People stopped
and looked, but the same idea occurred to all--my frantic gestures made
them believe that I was a miserable drunken sailor.
We reached the water's edge. I was shoved into a boat with several
other men who had been captured during the night. They all were sitting
stunned, or drunken, or sulky (or some too probably broken-hearted and
miserable), at the bottom of the boat, not exchanging a word with each
other or with those who had pressed us. I also fell down stunned and
unconscious. Who could have discovered the difference between me and my
companions in misfortune? When I again opened my eyes, I found that the
boat was almost at Spithead. I tried to sit up to look about me, but I
could not, and, after a feeble attempt to rise, I again sank back, and
once more oblivion of all that had passed stole over my senses. I had a
sort of dreamy feeling that I was lifted up on the deck of a big ship,
and then handed below and put into a hammock. Then I was aware that
some one came and felt my pulse and gave me medicine, but I had no power
to think, to recollect the past or to note the present.
At last, by degrees, I found that I was becoming more alive to what was
taking place. I felt the movement of the ship. She was heeling over to
a strong breeze. Then suddenly the recollection of my wife, of the way
I had been torn from her, of the wretchedness I knew she must suffer, of
the uncertainty she must feel for my fate, burst like a thunder-clap on
me, and almost sent me back into the state from which I was recovering.
I groaned in my agony. I wished that death might kindly be sent to
relieve me of my misery. But the instant after I felt that such a wish
was impious.
I lay quiet for some time, thinking and praying that strength might be
given for my support. No, no, I'll try to live, that I may get back to
comfort her. What joy it would be once more to return to her! The very
contemplation of such an idea revived me. "Whatever comes, I'll do my
duty like a man."
"That's right, my lad; that's the proper spirit in which to take our
misfortunes," said a voice near me.
Unconsciously, I had spoken aloud. I turned round my head, and saw a
gentleman I knew at once was the doctor of the ship.
"I know your story. You have told me a good deal about yourself while
you have been lying there," he remarked, in a kind voice. "I pity you
from my heart, and will do what I can for you."
"Thank you, sir, thank you," I answered warmly, and almost melting into
tears, for I was very weak. "Where are we? Where are we going? What
ship is this? Is Iffley here?"
"One question at a time, my lad, and you will have a better chance of an
answer, as a general rule," he answered, smiling.
He was a Scotchman, and as warm-hearted, generous a man as the north
ever produced, though somewhat peculiar in his manners. To a stranger
he appeared slow; but, when time would allow it, he knew the advantage
of deliberation.
"First, then, I will tell you that you are on board the _Albion_, and
that we have under our convoy a large fleet of merchantmen. We are
somewhere to the southward of Cape Finisterre. What you are thinking
about is, how you can write home to let your wife know what has become
of you. You'll very likely soon have an opportunity. Let that comfort
you." He said all this that he might break more gradually all that was
coming.
"But where are we going, sir?" I asked, in a trembling voice.
"You may perhaps have an opportunity of getting home," he answered.
"But you see, my lad, we are bound for the East Indies, and shall
probably have a somewhat long cruise of it."
"To the East Indies!" I cried, my voice sinking almost to a whisper.
"When, when, Margaret, may I ever meet you again?"
"Cheer up, my lad, it's a long road which has no turning, ye ken," cried
the kind doctor. "Remember your resolution to do your duty like a man.
You'll be well in a few days, I hope."
He did not reply to my question about Iffley. Somehow or other, I could
not bring myself again to repeat that man's name. I did not forget the
command to forgive our enemies, but I felt that flesh and blood--the
depravity of human nature--must be struggled with and overcome, before
the divine precept could be obeyed.
Once more I was on my feet again, and a man who attended on the sick
helped me up on deck. It was a fine day--the sky was blue, the sea was
calm, and some thirty ships, with all their canvas set, were grouped
close around us. They were huge lumbering tea-chests, as we used to
call Indiamen, but they were fine-looking craft for all that. The fresh
sea-breeze revived me. Every hour I felt myself growing stronger and
better. I looked round for Iffley. I had a nervous dread of meeting
him, and yet I felt anxious to ascertain that he was on board.
A person may be on board a big ship like the _Albion_ for several days
without meeting another, provided they are not on duty together. Such
was my case. I had been for two days on deck, an hour or so at a time,
without seeing the man who had proved himself so bitterly my enemy. The
doctor told me he thought that in a day or two more I might go to my
duty, and that I should be the better for having work to do. I looked
forward to work with satisfaction, and begged that I might as soon as
possible be struck off the sick list. He told me that I should be so on
the following day, and that he would speak to the first lieutenant about
me, as he was a very kind man, and would see that I was not sent aloft
till I had sufficiently recovered my strength. I thanked him with a
hearty blessing for his kindness and consideration.
The very first man on whom my eyes rested when I went on deck returned
fit for duty was Charles Iffley. He was going along the deck with his
cat-o'-nine-tails in his hand. I knew by this that he still held only
the rating of boatswain's mate on board. My heart turned sick at the
sight; in a moment my vivid imagination pictured all I might have to
suffer at his hands.
He saw me, but pretended not to know me, and went on his way as if I was
a stranger. I was immediately sent for aft, and found that I had been
entered in the ship's books as an able seaman and a deserter from his
Majesty's ship the _Brilliant_.
"What have you to say to this, my man?" said the captain, looking
sternly at me.
"That I am not a deserter, sir," I answered in a firm voice; and I then
gave him a clear and succinct account of the cutting-out expedition in
Santa Cruz harbour, in which I had been engaged, and the way in which my
life had been preserved on that occasion.
The captain, after a moment's consideration, sent a midshipman down into
his cabin for a printed book. When it was brought to him he turned over
the pages and asked me a few more questions. "I find that your account
agrees exactly with the description I here have of the affair, and I
believe you."
I saw Dr McCall, who came up at the moment and heard the captain's
words, look evidently pleased. They exchanged glances, I thought. At
all events, I fancied that I had just and kind-hearted superiors, and
that my condition was far better than I might have expected to find it.
Still this reflection could not mitigate the great source of my grief--
my sudden separation from my wife and my ignorance of her fate. After
this I was placed in a watch, and went regularly about my duty. I did
my best to perform it, and quickly recovered my strength.
Ours had always been considered a smart ship, and though our captain was
a kind man, he sacrificed a great deal to smartness. The most active
and bustling men who could make the most show of doing things smartly,
often gained more credit than they deserved.
It was one forenoon my watch below when I heard the cry of "All hands
shorten sail!" I had been stationed in the fore-top. I sprang on deck
as fast as my strength would allow, but I had not recovered my usual
activity. "Fly aloft, there! fly aloft, you lazy scoundrel, or a
rope's-end will freshen your way a bit!" I heard a voice cry, close to
my ear. It was Iffley's. His countenance showed that he was capable of
executing his threats. My blood boiled. I could do nothing. I could
say nothing. In a moment I understood the bitter enmity which he had
allowed to enter and to rankle in his bosom. I scarcely dared again to
look at him. I hurried on. A sudden squall had struck the ship--
unexpected after the long calms to which we had been subject. She was
heeling over to her lower deck ports. The exertion of all hands was
indeed required to shorten sail. I found Iffley following close after
me. I sprang up the rigging and quickly reached the fore-top. I could
not help seeing his face as he came up. It wore the expression of most
malignant hatred. "Lay out; be smart about it, my lads!" cried the
captain of the top, as the fore-topsail-yard came rattling down.
In an instant the yard was covered with active forms hurrying out to its
extreme ends. I made a spring to get out to the weather-earing. I had
got it in my hand and was hauling on it, when I saw the countenance of
Iffley, wearing the same expression as before, close to me. There was
now in it a triumphant expression, as if he hoped that his vindictive
feelings were about to be gratified. Still not a word did he utter. No
one on board would have guessed that we had ever before met. I still
kept to my resolution.
The gale came down on us stronger than ever. The officers were urging
the men to greater speed. Suddenly I felt the earing in my hand give
way, and before I could grasp at the yard to save myself I lost my
balance, and to my horror found myself falling into the seething ocean
raging beneath me. A strange, hideous, mocking strain of laughter
sounded in my ears as I fell, and after that I knew no more till I
discovered that I was struggling in the foaming waters.
I had gone down once, but had quickly come up again. I threw myself on
my back till I had somewhat recovered my senses, and then turned myself
round and kept treading the water while I looked out to see how far I
was from the ship.
Away she flew, close-hauled though, with the foam dancing round her, and
already at some distance. "And is this to be my fate?" I thought; "to
die thus a victim to the foul revenge of that man?"
I resolved to struggle for life. I looked round me on every side. The
Indiamen were scattered far and wide, none of them were coming up on our
track. Still I swam on, but I felt how hopeless was the struggle.
Just then my eye fell on a grating, floating not five fathoms from me,
and which had evidently been thrown to me by some one on board, when I
was seen to fall from aloft. I exerted all my strength, and at length
reached it. The time appeared to be very long. It is impossible, on
such occasions, to measure it. Moments appeared minutes--minutes hours.
I threw myself on the grating in a position to avoid being washed off
it or thrown under it; but it required no slight exertion to hold on.
As the dark seas came rolling up, and breaking, with a loud, crashing
sound, above my head, I felt as if they must inevitably overwhelm me.
Still I did not give up hope.
Unhappy as I had thought myself, I desired life that I might return home
once more and ascertain the fate of my wife. I prayed that for this
object I might be preserved; that we might once more be united, and once
again be happy on earth. Even at that moment, surrounded by the boiling
seas, with my ship flying fast away from me, I pictured, with all the
vividness of reality, the unspeakable joy of once again being restored
to her. I remembered the numberless dangers to which I had been
exposed, and the merciful way in which I had been preserved from them.
Not for an instant did I think of Iffley. I forgot that he had been the
cause of my present position, and thus I was prevented from harbouring
any feeling of revenge against him.
As I was saying, I could not judge how long I was clinging to the
grating. Tossed about as I was--now lifted to the summit of a foaming
sea--now sinking down into the trough--I kept my eye constantly turning
towards my ship.
Suddenly I saw the fore-topsail thrown aback--a boat was lowered--my
shipmates were coming to my rescue. I felt even then that I was to be
saved. I forgot the distance they had to pull and the heavy sea which
might both endanger them and hide me from their sight. Still more
eagerly did I try to make out the boat, as she laboured among the
foaming seas. I caught a glimpse of her as I rose to the top of a wave,
but she was not pulling towards me. Those in her could not have seen
me.
Then suddenly the horrid thought came across me, that Iffley might have
pretended to have seen where I was and to have guided the boat wrongly.
Then I blamed myself for thinking even Iffley capable of an act so
atrocious. Still, I thought if he had purposely thrown me into the sea,
he would be as likely to play the foul trick of which I now suspected
him.
Again I sank down into a deep trough of the sea, and could only for a
time distinguish the topsails of the ship above the masses of foam which
flew around. When I next rose again, there was the boat pulling away
from me.
I shrieked out, I raised my voice louder and louder, as if I could by
possibility be heard. I might as well have tried to howl down the
hurricane in its fiercest mood. This was more trying than all that had
gone before.
At length, exhausted by my exertions, I threw myself back on the
grating, scarcely attempting to hold on. I was then in the trough of a
sea. In another moment I was raised again to the summit of a sea, and,
though hopeless, my eyes mechanically turned towards the boat.
Some one on board had seen me--she was pulling towards me. I felt
conscious in a moment how wrong I had been to despair. I again exerted
all my strength to keep myself on the grating. I saw some one standing
up in the bows looking out for me. He pointed to where I floated, that
the helmsman might steer the boat aright.
"Hurra! hurra!" A shout reached my ears. I knew that my shipmates had
given it to encourage me. A few minutes more, and I found myself hauled
into the boat.
The first person on whom my eyes rested was Iffley. He looked, I
fancied, conscience-struck and defeated.
"Charley said as how he thought he saw you away to the eastward there;
but Tom Potts caught sight of you, and now we know he was right," said
one of the men who were hauling me in.
I was placed in the bottom of the boat, for there was little time in
that heavy sea to attend to me, and she pulled back towards the ship. I
felt that I was saved. I did not expect to be much the worse for my
ducking, and I knew when I got back to the ship that the doctor would
look after me. I had now no doubt that Iffley had endeavoured to
prevent the boat from coming to my assistance. How bitter must be his
hatred to allow me--his shipmate--to die thus horribly, struggling in
the sea, when he had the power to save me!
As I was helped up the side, I caught his eye fixed on me, and again I
observed that evident look of baffled vengeance which I had before
remarked. I felt sure that he would take the first opportunity of
giving further proof of his hatred of me. I did not see any means of
escaping from it. Had he even spoken to me, I might have expostulated
with him; but he kept aloof as if I were a total stranger to him. He
carefully avoided even addressing me directly. I felt sure, indeed,
that had I spoken to him, he would have stoutly denied all former
knowledge of me, and who was to prove it? No one whom I knew on board.
I felt as if I were pursued by some monster with supernatural powers,
from whom I could not get free.
When I got on board, Dr McCall kindly ordered me to go to my hammock,
and he came and gave me some medicine. He said that after the illness
from which I had so long been suffering, the consequences might be
serious if I caught cold from my ducking. However, I turned out the
next morning not in the slightest degree the worse for what had occurred
I resolved to be as attentive and exact in my duty as possible; I wished
to behave thus, at all events; but I also knew that in that case I
should give my enemy less opportunity of injuring me.
Two days after this a man was convicted of stealing on board. He was
sentenced to receive fifty lashes. Iffley was one of the boatswain's
mates chosen to inflict the punishment. The crew were mustered on deck,
and the man was led forward. He was one of those wretched men who are
both rogues and cowards.
Iffley and the other boatswain's mates stood with their cats, those
dreadful instruments of power, in their hands ready for use. While
preparations were being made, the miserable wretch looked round on every
side, as if seeking for some one who could save him from the punishment
he was about to receive. Not a glance of pity did he get from his
messmates. They knew him too well. At last he looked towards Iffley.
I saw them exchange glances. Iffley, of course, did not speak, but his
looks said something which gave the other courage.
"Captain," said the man, turning round to our captain, "you are going to
make the innocent suffer for the guilty. I wanted to shield a shipmate;
but he will be found out at last, I know, and I shall only suffer
without doing any one any good, otherwise I could have borne the
punishment willingly."
I at the time thought that the man spoke in that whining tone which a
person in spite of himself uses when he is uttering a falsehood, or
saying what has been put into his mouth by another.
"Cast him loose," said the captain; "I'll inquire into this. Bring him
aft here. Now tell me at once who is the man who has committed this
theft, if you are not guilty of it."
"I'd rather not say, sir," replied the culprit. "I don't like to peach
on another. He'll be found out before the day is over, and then I
shan't be accused of having told of him."
"That excuse will not serve your turn, my man," answered the captain
sternly. "Unless you can point out the real culprit, you will have to
suffer the punishment awarded you."
"Oh no, sir, I'd rather not. Do not be hard on me. I don't like to
hurt another man, even to save myself," again whined out the man. "Let
me off, sir, let me off, and the real thief will be found--that he will;
you have my word for it."
"Trice him up again," said the captain to the boatswain. "The true
thief is about to be punished, I am very certain of that."
"I'll tell, sir, I'll tell!" shrieked out the wretched man. "He's one
who has been skulking his duty ever since he came on board. I'd rather
not speak his name."
The captain shook his head, and made a sign to the boatswain to proceed.
"Well, if I must tell," cried out the man, Saull Ley by name, "the thief
is Will Weatherhelm."
I almost fainted when I heard the accusation, and I am sure that I must
have looked as guilty as if I had committed the theft.
A triumphant smile flitted across Iffley's features, and he passed the
knotted tails of his cat, as if mechanically, through his fingers, while
he cast a glance at me which I too well understood. The captain turned
towards me.
"What is this I hear?" he asked. "Do you acknowledge the theft,
Weatherhelm?"
"No, sir; certainly not," I answered, with as firm a voice as I could
command, though I felt conscious that it was faltering as I spoke.
"What proof have you that Weatherhelm committed the theft?" asked the
captain of the culprit.
"Because two men, if not more, watched him, and knew that it was him,"
was the answer; and now the man spoke in a firmer voice than I had done,
and I fancied looked more innocent.
"Produce your witnesses," said the captain.
The man hesitated for a minute, and his eye ranged with an uneasy glance
along the lines of men drawn up on deck, as if anxiously scanning their
countenances, for he must have felt that they knew him, and that he was
not generally believed. At last his eyes rested on two who were
standing together.
"Bill Sykes and Dick Todd saw him, sir; they know all about it. They'll
tell you; they'll prove I am innocent."
The theft had been committed on the purser's stores. Some tobacco and
sugar and some other things had been stolen. Now Saull Ley, the
accused, had been seen coming out of the store-room on one occasion when
the purser's clerk had left the keys in the door for a short time and
gone away. The purser, on his return, had missed some tobacco and
sugar, and that same evening a small quantity of both those articles had
been found in Ley's possession.
"Stand out, Bill Sykes and Dick Todd, and let me hear what you know
about this matter."
Bill Sykes was a landsman, and had soon shown that he was totally unfit
for a sailor. Dick Todd had entered as a boy. He was not worth much,
and had become a great chum of Sykes'. Still, from the little I had
seen of them, I did not think that they would have been guilty of
falsely accusing a shipmate. I had therefore little fear of what they
could say against me.
I was, however, somewhat startled when they stepped forward, and Sykes,
as the eldest, began in a clear way to state that he had seen a man,
whom he took to be me, open the door of the purser's room with a key,
and, after being absent for a minute or more, return and lock it. He at
once knew this was wrong, so he watched what the man he took to be the
thief would next do. He said that he met with Todd, and told him as a
friend what he had observed. The thief crept along the deck, and the
two then saw him go to his bag and deposit something which he took out
of his pockets. Both the men acknowledged that they might be mistaken,
but that they thought that it was me.
"What have you got to say to this, Weatherhelm?" asked the captain.
"You are accused by the mouths of two witnesses."
"The accusation is false, sir," I answered calmly. "I was not long ago
at my bag, and I observed neither tobacco nor sugar in it. If you will
send for it, you will find that I speak the truth."
"Very well. Mr Marvel, take a couple of hands with you, and bring up
Weatherhelm's bag," said the captain, addressing the mate of the lower
deck.
I felt very little anxiety during the time the officer was absent, for I
was sure that nothing would be found among my things. He soon returned,
bringing the bag. It was placed before the captain.
"Open it," said he. It was opened on deck in sight of all the officers
and ship's company. What was my horror and dismay, to see drawn forth,
wrapped up in a shirt, a large lump of tobacco and a paper containing
several pounds of sugar! "Now what have you got to say?" asked the
captain, turning to me.
"That I have not the slightest notion how those things came into my
bag," was my prompt answer.
"That is the sort of reply people always give when they are found out,"
said the captain. "It will not serve your turn, I fear."
"I cannot help it, sir," I replied, with a feeling of desperation.
"Appearances are certainly against me, sir; I know not by whom those
things were put into my bag. I did not put them in, and I did not know
that they were there."
"You said that another man was a witness of this affair," said the
captain, turning to Ley. "Who is he?"
Ley began to hum and haw and look uncomfortable. "I'd rather not say,
sir," whined out Ley, "if it is not necessary."
"But it is necessary," thundered out the captain, evidently annoyed at
the man's coolness and canting hypocrisy. "Who is he? or you get the
four dozen awarded you."
I had watched all along the countenance of Iffley. I felt sure that a
plot had been formed against me, and that he was its framer and
instigator. I saw that he began to grow uneasy at this stage of the
proceedings.
"Who is this other man?" repeated the captain.
Ley saw that he must speak out, or that he would still get the
punishment he was so anxious to escape. "There he is; Charles Iffley is
the man, sir, who, besides those two, saw Weatherhelm go to his bag and
put the stolen things into it."
"How is this, Iffley? If you saw a man committing a robbery, it wag
your duty to give notice of it, sir," exclaimed the captain, in an angry
voice, turning towards him.
"I am very sorry, sir," replied Iffley. "I am aware of what I ought,
strictly speaking, to have done, but I did not like to hurt the
character of a shipmate. He always seemed a very respectable man, and I
fully believed that I must have been mistaken. It is only now that the
things are found in his bag that I can believe him guilty."
"You are ready to swear to this?" asked the captain.
"Quite ready, sir, certainly," replied Iffley calmly. "I add nothing
and withhold nothing on the subject."
Even I was startled by what Iffley said, and the way he said it. I
could not help supposing that he believed what he said.
"Have you anything more to say in your defence, Weatherhelm?" said the
captain.
"Nothing, sir, except that those men are mistaken. I can only hope that
they believe what they say," I answered, with a firmer voice than I had
before been able to command.
"I am very sorry for it, and do not just now altogether believe it," I
heard Dr McCall observe as he walked off. "You will expect your
punishment--six dozen," said the captain. "Pipe down."
Could a painter at that moment have observed Iffley's countenance, it
might have served him as a likeness of Satan when he is assured that Eve
has fallen. The officers walked aft, the crew dispersed, and I was
placed under charge of the master-at-arms.
Two days passed by. How full of agony and wretchedness they were! The
pain I was to expect was as nothing compared to the disgrace and
degradation. I who had always borne an unsullied name, whose character
had always stood high both with my officers and messmates, to be now
branded as a thief! How could I ever face those I loved, conscious of
the marks of the foul lash on my back? There was no one on board to
speak in my favour; no one who had known me before--and how incapable I
was of the act imputed to me--except Iffley; and he, I felt too well
assured, would do his utmost to destroy me.
The two days passed--no circumstance occurred, as I had hoped it might,
to prove that I was innocent--when the boatswain's call summoned all
hands on deck to witness punishment. This time I was to be the victim.
The boatswain's mates stood ready. One of them was Iffley. He played
eagerly with his cat as I was led forward. "If come it must." I
ejaculated, "the Lord have mercy on me--I will bear my punishment as a
man."