The clack, clack of a windlass was heard one fine morning sounding over
the waters of the river that hurried by the Buccaneer's chief city.
Alas! the merry songs of his seamen, as they hove in the slack of their
chains was no longer to be heard. Their cheering "Yo, heave ho!" was but
a faint memory of the past. No cloud of sails was spread to catch the
breath of the north wind; but the vessel moved stealthily down the
river, leaving behind her a muddy wake and above a long winding black
serpent of smoke.
Great changes had come over this old Buccaneer. Neither he, nor his
ships were anything like what they were in the good old past. The past
that we are always looking back to with such loving and longing eyes.
Those huge wooden castles that had borne his flag to so many victories
had been towed long ago to their last moorings. But ah! things change,
and mountains even, if not moved by faith, are constantly being altered
by that persistent worker, time. People looked back with regret to those
grand old wooden walls, with their tier upon tier of guns; but it was
all in vain. Science had condemned them. Amidst all the change that was
constantly going on, there was one thing on board of the old Ship of
State that bound the Buccaneer to the past. She was still impelled by
wind, and consequently was not a rapid sailer. The Church Hulk alongside
her, was also propelled in a similar manner, but considering the gales
of wind that sometimes swept her decks she was a slow mover.
Away went the Buccaneer in his steam yacht, old Dogvane, of course,
being at the helm. The cox'sn, however, for reasons already mentioned,
was left behind. The captain's face did not wear an expression of
happiness, but then he was one of those who take their pleasures
seriously, and sometimes even in a melancholy manner; and often when he
looked his saddest he was enjoying himself most. To judge from
appearances, people might be pardoned if they thought that he and his
master were bent upon some mournful errand, such as the burying of some
dear departed friend.
But to return to the wonder-stricken people who lined the shore. Many
were the questions asked and many were the answers given. Though our
brave old Buccaneer hated anything secret, more especially in other
people, yet he himself conducted all his public affairs by a secret
council; being driven to do so, perhaps, by necessity. Then the reason
for this sudden and somewhat mysterious departure was left open to all
kinds of conjecture, some saying one thing, some another.
"What is in the wind now?" asked one. "Is the old man steering for peace
or for war?"
"Ah!" cried another, "perhaps his spirit is at last aroused. Heaven only
knows he has slept long enough!"
"The barking of curs, my lads," said a third, "does not disturb the
slumber or the dignity of a bull-dog. Fighting, mates, it may be; for
those who won't fight will fall."
The young hands looked hopeful and the hot blood mounted to their
cheeks, for they had heard and read of fights by sea and land, and of
the doughty deeds done by their forefathers, and they longed, too, for
the fray. There was life in these young sea whelps yet. It was said that
the wanton, Luxury, had touched them gently with the velvet tips of her
fingers, but so far she had not taken away their manhood and put them to
lie on downy beds scented with the perfume of flowers. No, no, she had
not gone as far as that, and though the Buccaneer's women, some of them,
had become masculine, his men had not surrendered up their position to
them just yet.
The young expressed their hopes, the old men shook their heads. The
Ojabberaways were wild with delight, and hoped that their tyrant master,
as they called him, would get so embroiled that they might have a chance
of shaking themselves free. Then, as many thought, there would be merry
times indeed for those who lived in the green and fertile isle of the
West.
The Ojabberaways now behaved themselves in a manner so peculiarly their
own, that there was every prospect of a free fight. The leaders, or paid
patriots as they were called, took up a strong position, behind whatever
natural objects presented themselves, and from these points of vantage
they commenced pelting their opponents with strong personal abuse. Of
this they always kept a large supply ready on hand. Wise counsels
prevailed, and the blood of the young Buccaneers was cooled down, and so
a row was avoided and all attention was again directed to the head of
the family and his doings. "Mates!" cried one sturdy fellow, "it's not
for fighting he has gone with Captain William Dogvane on board. More
likely he has gone to beg some person's pardon for some idle words
spoken, or may be he's gone to hand over some patch of land that we got
in fair and open fight. But let that pass, conscience becomes tender as
a man grows old."
Here a square built old sailor with a patch over his left eye, and who
was minus an arm and a leg cried out, "Who would spill his blood and
stand the chance of being knocked on the head, if he thought that all he
got in fair and open fight was to be given back, because a tender
conscience pules and whines. Look at me, mates! The glim of one of my
skylights is dousted, and is battened down for ever. My timber too I've
lost, and have I been lopped of my branches for nothing? All, forsooth,
because an old man's conscience pricks. Damme, lads! there's no justice
in the like o' that. Do our neighbours give up what they have grabbed?
not they; more likely to put the pistol to your head, as in days of old,
and cry out, 'Stand and deliver?' That's the way of the world, mates,
and we must not set up to be better than other folk. Haven't I a vested
interest in the old man's conquests to the extent of one arm, a leg and
an eye? Then damme, make all fast, say I!"
Another said, "The old Buccaneer is more fitted now to carry the staff
of a pilgrim than the pistol and cutlass of a pirate."
"Vast heaving, my mates," cried a voice from the crowd, "no hard names
if you please. Our master's buccaneering days are over, and there is
something so unsavoury about the name of a pirate, lads, that the word
is now never used in good society. As to whether any little bit of
business in that way is done on the sly, it is not for us to say. The
wise man's eye is not always open; but his mouth, my hearties, is
generally shut, so let us wait and see what comes of our master's
peregrination." This was all that the old coxswain contributed at this
particular part of the proceedings.
The Port Watch said there was no remedy for anything, but a shift of
watches. Some even advocated a sudden raid on the old Ship, and by
taking her by surprise to effect their purpose. Random Jack was for
doing this, and he declared his readiness to lead the assault, and his
courage was very much applauded, and not at all doubted. He was becoming
a great favourite amongst the people, who had still so much of the old
stuff left in them that they could appreciate pluck in any one. Just as
they were going to put their plan to the trial, a soft sound of music
came over the water. Music, it is known, has charms to soothe. Some
uncovered their heads reverently for they thought it was the evening
song coming from the old Church Hulk; but they were all very much
disappointed when they found out that it was only the cook accompanying
himself on his barrel organ to a hymn strung to his own praise.
This showed that the watch were not asleep. At the same time a spark, as
bright as a diamond, rested, as it were, on the bulwark of the old Ship
of State. This was caused by the rays of the setting sun impinging upon
the glass eye of the carpenter. The burly butcher, fly flapper in hand,
all ready for action, could also be seen. This made Random Jack
thoughtful. Random Jack remembered the butcher's instrument of torture
and he rubbed a part that had been more than once affected, and as he
did so, he said that in his opinion things were not quite ripe for
action, so the assault fell through, and the old Ship was allowed to
ride peacefully at anchor. Hereupon the old coxswain took the
opportunity of delivering an oration. "Mates!" he said, "let us do
nothing rashly. Hasty actions often require much time for repentance.
If so be that you can shift watches by fair means, do so; but give old
Bill Dogvane a fair chance. He is an old hand, and an able steersman,
and he has weathered many a storm." There was now a great outcry against
the coxswain; he was called a traitor; a follower of Bill's; a carpet
bag full of old wives' sayings; a bladder full of wind and such like
things; one who, if he was struck on one cheek, would turn the other.
All this abuse got old Jack Commonsense's back up, as the saying is, and
whipping out an oath or two, he exclaimed: "Damme mates! I hope as how I
am as good a Christian as the best of you, and as ready as any of you to
do my duty to my God and my neighbour; but the man who strikes me,
damme! I strike him back, or my name is not Jack Commonsense. Look you
now: do you think if any of you blustering, railing lubbers, were to
board the old Church Hulk there and strike, say, the High Priest on one
cheek, that he would straightway turn the other? If you think so, go and
try the experiment; I, for one, ain't agoing to. Mates! have we ever
fought our enemies, that our clergy, God bless them! did not bless us,
and pray for us? And while we fought with sword and pistol did they not
fight for us with their spiritual weapons? Example, my mates, is the
best precept, and our Church has never yet taught us in that way that
fighting is wrong; or that too much meekness, except from outsiders, is
to be very highly commended." When the old coxswain got upon his legs it
was hard to get him down and every stump was to him a pulpit. He
continued, "God forbid! that I should be a bully, going about the world
seeking quarrels with the weak; but God grant, my lads, that I maybe
ever ready to lead you all on against the attacks of the strong, who
threaten us, and a young woman as I keep company with will be well to
the fore, and if you are not found ready to follow old Jack and the
beggar woman, then, my lads, make ready your necks for the yoke of the
foreign invader. And it is old Jack Commonsense that says so."