The days of mourning were barely over when difficulties arose. The faith
left behind by the old saint was extremely good, and even beautiful, but
it was not at all adapted to one who occasionally robbed a neighbour's
hen-roost. Indeed, it was not at all fitted for one who followed the
profession of a bold Buccaneer. It was a trifle hard to sell all that he
had and give it to the poor, who might be a lazy lot of skulking
rascals. Then who could expect to get on in this world, if, when one
cheek was struck he turned the other? Beautiful, yes, but not practical.
If our fighting Buccaneer did this sort of thing, every daw from the
mainland would invade the nest of the eagle, and peck him to death, and
suck his eggs.
Then the command not to lay up riches upon earth; and to live in peace
and charity with all men. This was all very well, but then when you are
surrounded by a lot of people, who will not live up to these fine
sentiments, what is a poor fellow to do?
The Buccaneer had a coxswain, who was his right-hand man, and whose name
was Jack Commonsense. He took him into his confidence. Old Jack
scratched his head, which was a sure sign that he was in trouble, and he
told his master that he did not see any way out of the difficulty, for,
if they sailed by the instruction as laid down in the Book the saint had
left behind, they had better give up the buccaneering business at once,
and try something else. The end of the matter was, that it was handed
over to the Buccaneer's Church to settle, for, as he said in his quaint
sea-faring language, it's no use keeping a dog if you have to bark
yourself. To his clergy he deputed the by no means easy task of shaping
a course in accordance with his book, the Bible, and at the same time
not altogether antagonistic to his worldly interests. In fact, some kind
of a compromise had to be made.
Obedient to the command of their earthly master, the most learned of the
Buccaneer's divines assembled together in solemn conclave, and having
opened the proceedings with prayer, they fell to arguing upon the grave
questions before them. The Scriptures were searched, and very much
learning and piety were displayed, and very much heat, with a little
temper, was introduced; but there seemed to be little probability of
their coming to a satisfactory conclusion. Some said the word must be
adhered to, others said that the word killed, and that it was the spirit
that must be taken into consideration.
After very much argument, which at times cleft asunder the matter in
dispute, thereby forming schism and even sects, a satisfactory
conclusion was arrived at, and the foundation was laid of an edifice,
which in time was to grow into most beautiful proportions. The
foundation rested upon the Book, and the corner stones were those which
Christ had laid in Galilee. The superstructure was built to a large
extent by human hands, and of earthly material. Still it was a noble
edifice, and thus the Buccaneer had manufactured for him a good everyday
religion, somewhat worldly perhaps, but eminently suited to his mode of
life.
There were slight incongruities, but it mattered little to the subject
of our history, and we may presume that he did not see them; or if he
did he did not notice them, which answers the same purpose. Such things
are at all times more apparent to other people than to those especially
interested. Besides, any little shortcomings on the part of the
Buccaneer were amply made amends for by his solicitude for the religious
welfare of others, whose eternal happiness seemed indeed to be more to
him than his own. Wherever he went he took with him his Bible, and as he
had not been able to swallow it wholesale himself, he soothed his
conscience by thrusting it down the throats of other people. If they
would not take it quietly, then he would help them over their difficulty
with the point of his sword. It was a principle of his that if people
would not go to Heaven, that they must be made to go there, and
accordingly he sent a good many to the other world very much against
their will, and very much before their time.
This bold Buccaneer was perhaps originally intended for a Mahommedan,
but being spoilt in the making he became an indifferent Christian. Tell
him this, and it would be wise to clear out at once, and make tracks for
the remotest part of the world.
As a matter of course he must follow the example of all other Christian
people, and enroll himself under the protection of some saint. Now,
whether it was by chance, or whether he was possessed with a grim kind
of humour, it would be impossible to say. Indeed, he may have had a
genuine admiration for the man. The fact remains that he chose as his
patron George of Capadocia, who seems to have done a very good business
in the way of bacon. It is at all times a difficult matter to form a
true estimate of a character far back in history; but it is probable
that the whole saintly calendar does not contain a more disreputable
blackguard than this self-same George; but he is now a saint "de mortuis
etc.;" the bold Buccaneer having now had a good serviceable religion
manufactured for him, and having also been fitted out with a good
elastic and easily worked conscience, he was himself again. Away the
merry rover went, cracking a head here and a crib there, and returning
home with whatever happened to fall in his way.