_THE FAREWELL. THE ROYAL KENT. PIRATES. THE FIGHT. ENLISTING IN A NEW
SERVICE. THE HAUNTS OF THE BUCCANIERS. ESCAPE FROM ONE PRISON AND
CONFINEMENT IN ANOTHER. BURNET AND FANNY CAMPBELL. ARRIVAL OF AN
IMPORTANT MESSENGER. MYSTERY. A PROPOSITION. A NEW FRIEND AND A NEW
CHARACTER. A CAPTAIN’S SPEECH. WHO WAS THE MASTER._
|Early on the morning subsequent to the meeting on the Rock, William
Lovell rose from his bed with the first grey of morning light, and
stealing gently to Fanny’s apartment he knocked at her door; there was
no response; he knocked again, still there was no reply. The poor girl
had wept away nearly the whole night, and now nature had asserted her
supremacy, and her weary form was wrapped in slumber. Lovell opened
the door and quietly sought her bedside. There lay Fanny, a single tear
trembling beneath each eye-lid; one dimpled arm bare to the shoulder lay
across her partially exposed breast, while on the other her head rested
in unconsciousness. A beautiful picture of innocence and purity was
Fanny Campbell as she lay thus sleeping.
‘Thou hast wept thyself to sleep, poor Fanny,’ said Lovell, putting his
arm affectionately about her neck, and gently kissing her ruby lips.
He pressed them again, and this time, see? the dreamer puts her own
arm about his neck, and the kiss was returned! but still she slept. He
breathed a prayer, a silent, fervent prayer for her weal, then gently
disengaging himself from her embrace, he said, as he looked lovingly
upon her, ‘it were better to part thus, I will not wake her,’ and
kissing her lips once more, Lovell left her sleeping still as he had
found her.
He took leave of his parents, shook the hands of a few early risers
among his friends, and started for Boston, from whence he was to sail at
noon of that day on his first voyage to sea. The setting sun of that
day shone upon the white sails of the vessel that bore him to sea many
leagues from land. Lovell, whose life had been passed much upon the
water, though not far from home, fell easily into the duty required of
him, and proved himself to be an efficient and able seaman. Day after
day the ship stood on her southern course until she was within the
mild and salubrious climate of the West Indies, the great American
Archipelago.--In those days and even for many years subsequent to that
date, those seas were infested by bands of reckless freebooters or
pirates, who committed depredations upon the marine of every nation with
which they met; they were literally no respecters of persons. The men
who commanded these bands of rovers of most fickle fancy, sometimes
sailed under the white lily of France, the crescents of Turkey, the
blazoned and gorgeous flag of Spain, or even the banner of the Church,
bearing the Keys of Heaven, but mostly under the blood red flag, that
denoted their character, and told their antagonists with whom they had
to deal.
The good ship Royal Kent had now entered the milder latitudes, and was
within a day’s sail of Port-au-Plat, when a suspicious craft hove in
sight and immediately gave chase. The Kent had a crew of about a dozen
men before the mast, with two or three officers; but they were poorly
supplied with the means of defence, against any regular attack made by
an armed vessel. Nevertheless, the two six pound cannonades were cleared
away from rubbish amidships, and loaded for service; the guns too, some
six or eight in number, were all double loaded, and the officers had
each a brace of pistols, besides which their were enough cutlasses on
board to supply each man with one.
With this little armament they determined to sell their lives dearly,
if necessary, and the stranger should prove to be, that which they had
every reason to suppose him, a pirate.
The stranger now neared them fast, and all doubt as to his character was
soon dispelled, as a blood red flag was sent up to the mast head, and a
gun fired for the Kent to heave too. This the captain had no intention
of doing, and immediately after the Buccanier, for so he proved to be,
began to fire upon them. The shots fell fast and thick among the small
crew of the Kent, who having returned them with interest from their six
pounders, which being better aimed, did fearful execution on the crowded
deck of the freebooter. The object of the pirate captain was evidently
to board the Kent, when his superiority of numbers must immediately
decide the contest in his favor. This was ingeniously avoided by the
captain of the Kent for some time, his little armament all the while
doing bloody execution among his enemies.
At last, however, the grapnels were thrown, and the pirate captain
boarded the Kent, followed by half his crew of cutthroats, and decided
the contest hand to hand. The American crew fought to the last,
notwithstanding the hopeless character of the contest, for they knew
full well that they had better fall in battle than to be subjected to
the almost certain cruel death that would await them if they should fail
into the hands of the Bucaniers alive.
Thus, although overpowered and borne down by numbers, the captain of the
Kent had already shot the pirate chief through the brain and another
of the enemy with his remaining pistol, while his cutlass had drank the
heart’s blood of more than one, before he felt himself, pierced with
many a fatal wound; and thus had each of the crew fought until only
three remained, who had shown equally fatal battle with the rest, but
were now disarmed and lay bound and bleeding upon the deck. One of them
was William Lovell. He lay bleeding, as we have said, from many wounds,
with his two comrades, the ship being now completely in the hands of the
Bucaniers. The Kent proved but a poor prize for the freebooters, though
she had cost them so dearly. After taking such valuables out of her as
they chose, they scuttled her, and she sunk where she lay.
Young Lovell and his comrades were taken on board the piratical vessel,
and after a consultation among its leaders were told that their lives
would be spared them if they would join the now short handed crew--The
Bucaniers were induced to make this proposition partly because the
prisoners had proved themselves to be brave men, and partly because of
their own weakness, after the fierce and sanguinary encounter they had
just experienced, the crew of the Kent having actually killed nearly
twice their own number, leaving but about fifteen men alive of the
pirate crew. The love of life is strong within us all, and Lovell and
his companions agreed to the terms offered them, determining to seek an
early occasion to escape from the vessel, yet for many months were they
the witnesses of scenes of blood-shed and wickedness which they had not
the least power to avert.
The West Indian seas since the times of the earliest navigators have
ever been the resort of Bucaniers and reckless bands of freebooters, and
even to this day, notwithstanding the strong fleet of national vessels
kept upon the stations by the American and English governments, there
are still organized bands of these desperadoes now existing, engaged in
the ostensible occupation of fishermen, but only awaiting a favorable
opportunity to resume their old calling. It is rumored on very good
authority, that there now lies much wealth buried upon the Tortagos, an
island renowned in the early history of the new world, and celebrated
as being in former days the rendezvous of the bold rovers who frequented
the West Indies in those days. After capturing their prey in the
neighboring seas, the Bucaniers returned to their favorite haunt, and
there buried their surplus treasures, then departing again upon their
dangerous and bloody expeditions many must necessarily have perished. No
one knew where his companion’s treasure was buried, consequently it
may still remain hidden in its concealment, the spot known only to the
spirit of the departed Bucanier.
Tortagos is entirely uninhabited and separated from Hayti only by a
ship’s channel of about a league in width, and to which it belongs. The
laws have long forbidden its settlement, but for what reason we are not
informed. Here lay the bones of the rovers who used to rendezvous in
the island, side by side with their blood-bought and useless wealth. No
public search has ever been made for the hidden booty, and why may we
not look for some valuable disclosure in course of time?
The vessel in which Lovell and his two companions had been forced to
enlist, was cruising in search of a prey with which they might cope,
with a prospect of success and booty, just off the island of Cuba, one
fine clear night, when it was determined by Lovell and his friends to
attempt to make their escape to the land. In the middle watch which
chanced to fall to the share of these three whom the pirate crew had
learned to trust implicitly, believing them to be content with their
situation, they put the vessel before the wind, and lashing the helm
amidship, took a small boat with a few articles of personal property
only, and stole away quietly from their floating prison, and after many
hardships landed at Havana. Hardly had the three made their appearance
here before they were thrown into prison on suspicion, to await their
trial for piracy. They were strangers to the language spoken on the
island, had no friends there to intercede in their behalf, and indeed
matters looked gloomy enough; nor had they much doubt in their own minds
that they should be convicted of the charge brought against them. The
day on which they were shut up within the cold, damp, and cheerless
wails of the prison, was just one year subsequent to that of their
leaving Boston harbor, in the good ship Royal Kent. Again and again did
they regret that they had not fallen upon the deck of their own ship
rather than thus to be murdered by the Spaniards under the charge of
piracy upon the sea.
In this harrowing state of suspense, Lovell, with Jack Herbert and Henry
Breed, his comrades in captivity, remained for nearly six months before
they were summoned for their trial, and then no sufficient evidence
appearing against them, they were further remanded to prison. This was
in a time of war and contention, and dangers of every kind lurked about
the islands and harbors of the West Indies, and in the crowd of other
matters the poor prisoners and their case was entirely forgotten. Thus
they were likely to remain perhaps for years, in a confinement scarcely
more desirable than death itself, save that there still remained a
single gleam of hope within their breasts that they might some day be
freed. Ah! bright and heaven born Hope, thou art the solace of many an
aching heart, and the supporter of many a weary and almost-disconsolate
spirit.
While incarcerated in this living tomb, young Lovell’s mind would often
revert to the captain of the King’s cutter, whom he knew to be familiar
with Fanny, and who had caused him no small degree of unhappiness on his
leaving his now far off home. ‘He will have ample time and opportunity
to supplant me,’ said Lovell to himself, ‘for Fanny may believe me dead,
and thus be induced to give way to his importunities.--Heaven protect
her,’ thought Lovell to himself. ‘His motives I fear cannot possibly be
of an honorable character.’
While Lovell was thus prompted by his feelings in a prison far away, the
drama was still going on at home, and in the family of the Campbells.
Captain Burnett was now more frequent in his visits to the High Rock
Hamlet, and Fanny still received him on the same kind terms as ever, and
they were still good friends. If the officer of the crown did sometimes
attempt to talk of love, she would silence him with a look of reproach,
or some playful rejoinder, which was ever successful, and thus she kept
him as he termed it to one of his confidential messmates in the fleet,
constantly in suspense.’
‘Hang it,’ said he on the occasion alluded to, and to his comrade, ‘I
would do anything for the girl, even to giving up my commission, for I
believe she has really got my heart, if I have any--I never knew I had
before, that’s certain.’
‘You would have to turn rebel to get her, Burnet,’ said his friend; ‘if
she be so strong a one as you have always told me.’
‘I’ll tell thee between ourselves,’ said Burnet in reply, ‘if I thought
I could get the girl’s heart thereby, I would join the continentals
to-morrow, and furthermore, I must say that it is the only inducement
that could be offered me to do so, though I believe them more than half
in the right.’
‘You are serious, Burnet?’
‘Serious, upon my honor.’
‘To what length will the little god carry us in his blind service,’ said
his friend. ‘I give you up entirely Burnet. It’s a clear case.’
‘To which I plead guilty.’
The attention of Captain Burnet at the cottage and to Fanny, had become
so marked and decided that the gossips of the community--a class of
people who know everything, and especially more of other people’s
affairs than their own--had fully engaged him to Fanny, and made her
give up William Lovell unconditionally.
Nearly two years had passed since the first imprisonment of Lovell and
his companions, when by a happy chance Jack Herbert succeeded in making
his escape on board of a vessel bound for Boston, and at length reached
his home in safety. He was charged with a message to Lovell’s parents,
and Fanny, should he ever reach home, and this he took an early
opportunity to deliver.
William Lovell’s family and friends had long mourned him as lost, not
having heard one word concerning him since his departure, or of the
vessel in which he had sailed. But Fanny would not give up all hope, and
insisted that they should hear from him at last, and now that they had
done so, and knew him to be pining in a Spanish prison, still they were
grateful that his life was spared, and were led to hope for his eventual
release and return.
‘And how do these Spaniards treat him?’ asked Fanny with a trembling
voice, yet flashing eye, of the messenger, Jack Herbert.
‘Rough enough, Miss.’
‘Has he sufficient food?’
‘They used to bring us grub once a day,’ was the answer.
‘But once a day?’
‘That’s all, Miss.’
‘And what did it consist of?’ asked Fanny.
‘The very coarsest, you may be assured, Miss.’
A tear stole into Fanny’s eye, as she thought upon the suffering that
William was then experiencing in a foreign prison.
‘At Havana, in the island of Cuba,’ said Fanny, musingly to herself; 4
can you describe the port, my friend?’
‘Why it’s a sunny little basin, not so very small neither, and quite
land-locked and guarded by the castle and its entrance, tho’ for the
matter of that, the castle is’nt always manned--at any rate ‘twas’nt
the night we went in with the tag-boat. It’s a pocket of a place, Miss,
large enough to hold a thousand sail and yet not more than one can work
in or out at a time. It’s in the hands of the Spaniard now, from whom
the English took it awhile ago, but have given it back again. Altogether
it’s a fine harbor, as far as that goes, why, Miss?’
‘Oh, I was curious about it.’
‘It did’nt bless our eyes very often, I can tell you, Miss. We all saw
it once, when we were rode out in a great cart hauled by jackasses to
the court of the Governor General, the old tyrant!’ and here honest Jack
Herbert made divers passes with his clenched fist in the air as though
he was pummelling the identical functionary in question, just about the
ribs and eyes.
‘In close confinement all the time,’ said Fanny thoughtfully, and more
to herself than to her companion, or for the purpose of eliciting an
answer.
‘Close enough, lady, being’s we never went out, saving the time I have
just told you of in the jackass team,’ said Herbert, pausing out of
breath at the exertion of thrashing the Governor General in imagination.
‘Did you inform yourself concerning the localities of the neighborhood,’
asked Fanny, still half musing to herself.
‘Why, yes, Miss, a little when I got out.’
‘And the prison--is that well guarded?’
‘Only by the jailor, a rough, gray old Spaniard, and three or four
soldiers at the different angles of the walls.’
‘Look ye, good Herbert, would you join an expedition for the release of
your old comrades?’ asked Fanny, with animation.
‘Would’nt I? perhaps I hav’nt suffered with them, and don’t know what
it is to be cooped up in a damp, stone prison, with just enough food to
keep you alive, and make you long for more; join? yes, to-morrow, Miss.’
‘Where do you live in the town?’
‘Just at the foot of Copp’s Hill.’
‘Could one find you there if need be?’
‘Ay, Miss, at most any hour’.’
‘Well, good Herbert, you may soon meet with one who will engage with you
in an enterprise that may gain you not only a name, but a fortune also.
Will you be prepared?’
‘That I will--a fortune?’
‘Aye, and fame to boot’
‘That would be good news.’
‘Say nothing of this to any one.’
‘Oh, I’m mum, Miss, if you wish.’
The evening following that of the reception of the news brought by Jack
Herbert, Burnet made one of his frequent calls at the hamlet, and heard
from Fanny the whole story of Lovell’s capture and imprisonment. He
affected to look upon Lovell much in the light of a brother of Fanny’s.
Knowing her to have been brought up with him, and that they had played
together in childhood, he had always shrewdly avoided speaking in any
way against him, of whom indeed he could say nothing disparaging, having
never seen him, and only knowing him through Fanny, who often alluded to
him in connection with her remembrances of her childhood and past life.
Captain Burnet saw full well that Fanny’s interest in Lovell was of no
slight character, and he took his course in the matter accordingly. His
policy was evidently to win her affection by constant and unremitting
attention, and to accomplish this he left no means untried. To her
parents he was liberal and generous, without being sufficiently prodigal
to create displeasure, every act being tempered by good taste and
discreet judgment.
He patiently followed every whim of Fanny’s fancy, and occupied his time
when with her in such employment as he knew would best suit her taste,
and in short attacked her at the only vulnerable point, if there was
any, which was to render himself pleasing and gradually necessary to her
enjoyment, by the amusement he strove to afford her upon every topic,
and the instructive character of his general conversation. He saw
in Fanny a love for acquiring knowledge on every subject, and he
particularly favored it by every means in his power, and actually came
to love her warmly by this very intercourse, whose beauty of person
alone had first attracted his attention. Two years thus passed, in which
Burnet had been a frequent visitor at the cottage, which rendered him
by no means an object of indifference to Fanny, who, however, had often
told him that she regarded him only as a brother. So far from being
discouraged by this, Burnet, who loved most ardently, even thought it a
point gained in his favor, and pursued his object with renewed hope.
He was forced to acknowledge to his own heart that he loved her
irrevocably, and that without her he could never be happy.
He listened, as we have said, to Fanny’s relation of the story of
Lovell’s imprisonment, and he soon found that she was more interested
in the result of the affair than he could have wished, or perhaps even
expected. She talked long and earnestly with him relative to the matter,
frankly asking his advice and assistance in the affair. He professed
that he could refuse her nothing, and a deeply interesting conversation
took place, the purport of which may be revealed in a subsequent
chapter. That night Captain Burnet did not depart from the little parlor
of the cottage and from Fanny, until long after his usual hour, as was
remarked by Mr. and Mrs. Campbell to each other.
About a week dating from the occasion just alluded to, a man dressed in
the garb of a common sailor knocked at the door of old widow Herbert’s
house, at the foot of Copp’s Hill, ‘North End.’ A neatly dressed woman
of some sixty years of age opened the door. She was still hale and
hearty notwithstanding three score years had passed over her head. The
refinements of civilization had never marred her health or vigorous
constitution, for she had never resorted to those means of shortening
life practised in these more advanced periods of refinement. No cramping
and painful corsets had ever disfigured her fine natural form, nor had
her feet even been squeezed into a compass far too small for their size,
in order to render them of delicate proportions. No, no the good
old practices of the Bay Province seventy and eighty years ago, were
productive of hale and hearty old age, long lives, and useful ones, with
health to enjoy life’s blessings.
‘I would see your son, my good woman,’ said the stranger to dame Herbert
as she appeared at the door.
‘Jack, my boy,’ said the old lady, ‘here’s a friend who would speak to
thee, come hither I say, Jack.’
‘Ay, ay, mother.’
The son was making his noonday meal, but he soon answered the call and
made his appearance at the door.
‘Your name is Jack Herbert?’ put the stranger inquiringly.
‘That’s it, your honor,’ said Jack, for there was that about the cut of
the stranger’s jib, that told him he was something more than a foremast
hand, perhaps a captain or a naval officer. None are more ready to pay
due deference to rank than Jack-tar, for he is made most to feel its
power.
‘I understand,’ said the stranger,’ that you have expressed a
willingness to join an enterprise to free a couple of your old messmates
from a Spanish prison. Is this the case, my honest fellow?’
‘Aye your honor, I did say as much as that to Bill Lovell’s girl down
there at the High Rock fishing hamlet.’
‘Well, I come by her direction--and now do you hold still to your first
declaration to her?’
‘That do I, your honor.’
‘Then come with me.’
And Jack followed the stranger to the summit of the hill which
commanded a good view of the harbor, indeed its base, which was
surrounded by straggling tenements, terminated in the bay itself.
‘Do you see that brig just below us here?’ asked the stranger, pointing
to a well appointed vessel of that rig not far from the shore.
‘Ay, ay, sir, she sails to-morrow.’
‘If she gets two more hands.’
‘So I have heard, sir.’
‘Will you ship?’
‘In her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not I.’
‘With good wages and proper treatment?’ continued the stranger.
‘Why, she’s bound into those infernal Buccanier latitudes d’ye see,’
said Jack Herbert, ‘and I don’t care about going there again unless with
a good stout crew and plenty of armament.’
‘You are prevented by _fear_ then,’ said the stranger tauntingly.
‘Why, not exactly, your honor, but you see it’s a wanton tempting of
providence to leap straight into a shark’s mouth.’
‘Look ye, my good fellow--I’m about to join that craft as her second
mate. I’m bound for Cuba, so is that brig. She’s going on her own
business, I’m going on mine, which is to aid your old comrades to escape
from prison. So far as she goes my way I go hers, and between ourselves,
no further. Now if you will trust to me I think we can manage to
accomplish this object. How do you like the plan?’
‘I don’t mind shipping in her for such a purpose,’ said Jack Herbert,
‘only she’s got such a cursed bad captain. King George never had a more
faithful representative of his own black character than the English
captain of that brig yonder. ‘I know it,’ said Jack confidently; why, do
ye see they’ve been trying to get me on board there these ten days.’
‘But, my good fellow, I shall be one of your officers, and shall look
after your comfort--come, think better of this, you’ll ship, eh?’
After some considerable hesitation, Jack replied: ‘In this case I must,
for damme, if I can bear to think of what those honest fellows are
suffering off there in Cuba.’
‘There’s my hand, my honest fellow,’ said the stranger. ‘I will go and
enter your name on the shipping list, and meet you again to-night, when
I will have a more explicit conversation with you and tell you more of
my proposed course of conduct for the coming voyage.’
The stranger, whoever he was, had Fanny’s interest near at heart, and
had evidently made himself master of the relation of each to the other,
as well as the whole matter of young Lovell’s confinement in prison.
Soon after the stranger left Jack Herbert, on his way to the shore, he
was passing along one of the narrow and crooked lanes of the North End,
as that part of the town was then called, and as it is known to this
day, when he heard the groans of some one in distress. He sought the
door of a low and poorly built house, from whence the sounds issued, and
entering, he found a poor woman suffering from severe sickness, lying
there upon a bed of straw. By her side sat a man of about twenty-five
years of age, offering her such little comforts and attentions as were
in his power.
The room was desolate, and the stranger could see that want and poverty
dwelt there. He asked the man what he could do to serve them, and
whether he could not procure something for the sufferer, who was moaning
most piteously.
‘Arrah, she’s past the nade of it now,’ said the man.
‘Go and get a physician,’ said the gentleman.
‘Get a Doctor is it? And who’ll pay.’
‘I’ll see to that, go quick.’
‘You’ll pay, will ye?’
‘Certainly, be quick I say.’
The physician came at once, but informed them that the woman could not
live but a few hours at most, and after prescribing a gentle anodyne he
retired.
The stranger paid the Doctor his fee, and after giving some money to the
man and bidding him procure whatever should be necessary for his mother,
he was just about to leave the miserable apartment when the man said:
‘Hiven bless yees for a jintleman as ye is. Where might I be afther
finding ye when I could pay yer back ye know?’
‘Never mind that, my good fellow, at all, it is of no consequence. I’ll
call in and see you in the morning.’
‘So do, yer honor, and long life to all such as yees.’
Leaving the poor Irishman in the midst of his grateful acknowledgements,
the stranger approached the shore, and making a signal with his hat, a
boat was despatched from the brig to carry him on board. He was a noble
looking young sailor, and his manner and bearing bespoke a degree of
refinement not usual in one of his class. He was of ordinary height,
well formed in every limb, and he looked as if his experience as a
seaman must have been gained in the navy, for while his countenance wore
the browned hue which exposure to the elements always imparts, yet was
he one who evidently had never labored before the mast. He was young,
certainly not much over twenty years of age, but there was a look of
authority about the mild yet determined expression of his countenance,
that told of more matured experience.
He was dressed in blue sailor’s pants, and a short Pea Jacket descending
about half way to the knee, within the lining of which a close observer
might have seen a brace of pistols and the silver haft of a knife, so
designed as to cut at both sides while it was bent like the Turkish
hanger. As he waved his tarpaulin hat for a signal to the brig, the
night breeze played with his short, curly hair, throwing it in dainty
curls about his forehead, which, protected by the hat so constantly worn
by the seaman, was white as alabaster, and showed in singular contrast
with the browned cheek and open neck.--Altogether you would have
pronounced him a king’s officer in disguise.
The boat received him, and he was soon on board the brig.
‘Well, Mr. Channing,’ said the captain of the vessel, who met him as
soon as he arrived on board, ‘have you engaged the man whom you promised
to get for me yesterday?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘When will he join us? we sail with the morning tide you know.’
‘He will be on board to-morrow morning in good season, sir.’
‘Don’t let him fail, sir, for it will completely man us into our
single hand, Mr. Channing. It does seem a pity to sail without the full
complement when we have so nearly got it.’
‘I’ll see this man again to-night sir, and make sure of him.’
‘That will be well, sir,’ replied the Captain.
This conversation was held on the quarter deck of the brig Constance
which was of about four hundred tons burthen, and a most beautiful
specimen of the naval architecture of the day. She was bound ostensibly
to the West Indies, but the plan was (as Mr. Channing told Jack Herbert
that night) that after touching there she was to proceed to England.
She was well armed carrying a long tom amidships, and half a dozen six
pounders, and a crew when her complement was complete, of twenty men
before the mast. She was designed as a strong armed trader, and having
letters of marque, she was expected to take any vessel belonging to the
enemies of England (under whose flag she sailed) provided she was strong
enough. Her commander was a tyrant in his disposition and much addicted
to the intemperate use of spirituous liquors.
His first mate was a weak, imbecile young man, put on board originally
as a sort of supercargo, by the owners, being a son of the principle
share holder. The third officer was Mr. Channing whom we have
introduced to the reader, and who appeared to be the only person on
board worthy of trust as an officer. The captain trusted almost entirely
to his first mate who was also inclined to throw all responsibility upon
his second, as we shall have occasion to see.
The next morning Mr. Charming called on the poor Irishman as he had
promised to do. He learned that the poor woman his mother, had expired
during the night, and he found her son with his face buried in his
hands, the very picture of honest grief.
‘I condole with you my good man,’ said Channing, ‘but you should
remember that your mother has gone to a better world, where she will
know no more want, no pain nor hunger--“where the wicked cease from
troubling, and the weary are at rest.”’
‘Do you belave that?’ asked Terrance Mooney.
‘Most certainly, the humblest of God’s creatures is his especial care,
and he will gather all his children home in due time,’ said the mate of
the brig to the weeping son of the deceased.
‘And no purgatory nather.’
‘If there be any purgatory, my good man, it is here on this earth where
there is so much sin and consequent misery.’
‘Arrah, that’s consoulin to be sure if its all true, but the praist
tells a mighty dale about that place.’
‘If he would preach more about the love and kindness of our heavenly
father, and less of these imaginary places, he would serve the cause of
his maker much more faithfully, and lead more sinners to repentance,’
said Channing.
‘Would’nt I be happy if I thought the ould lady had gone to Paradise to
live wid the saints?5 said Terrence.
‘Believe me, my good fellow, she’s safe in the hands of the wisdom and
power that made her.’
‘That’s consoling to be sure, but here am I, Terrence Moony, wid no
mother at all, sure what’s to become of me?’
The thought struck Channing that it wanted yet one man to complete the
complement of the brig.
‘How would you like to go to sea with me for good wages and comfortable
living, hey Terrence?’ asked the mate.
‘Why there’s nothing to kape me here to be sure, but to see the ould
woman dacently buried. When does your honor go to sea, if you plase?’
‘This morning.’
‘Right away is it?’
‘With the ebb tide.’
‘Arrah, that’s soon enough to be sure, could I get my friends to
dacently bury her now, but thin I hav’nt the money.’
‘Here’s a few dollars if that will do it,’ said Channing handling
Terrence some money for the purpose.
‘Do it, is it? won’t they have a “wake” out of it, and I’ll be far away
at the same time they’ll be ating at it.’
‘Well, you must make haste, my man.’
‘Ye’s all ginerosoty, yer honer. I’ll jist fix it all, and thin I’ll
follow yees to the end of the earth.’
And Terrence Mooney did arrange for the funeral of his mother, and after
a few bitter expressions at parting from her body, he went on board the
brig, when he shipped for the voyage to the West Indies.
Mr. Channing and Jack Herbert were on board in due season, and with the
morning tide the brig hoisted her anchor, and spreading her white wings,
stood out to sea. The bright sun shone gloriously upon the green islands
that dotted the harbor in every direction, they were much larger then
than now, and indeed one or two small ones have disappeared entirely.
Seventy years of swift running tides have greatly reduced them in point
of size, but not in beauty, for they still give a picturesque loveliness
to the Bay that a painter’s taste could not improve. St. George’s flag
floated from the topmasts of a dozen men of war, which lay at anchor
in the harbor, and floated from a number of lofty points in the town.
Scarcely had this scene disappeared from the eyes of the crew, when they
were summoned aft by the captain, where he made them the following brief
and very pertinent speech, it was characteristic of the man.
‘My men, when I’m obeyed quick and well I’m a pretty clever sort of
a man, but when I’m thwarted, why then I’m h------I! so look out. I’m
captain here, and will be obeyed to the very letter. You’ll know me fast
enough when any of you cross me.--There, that will do--now go forward.’
‘Divilish little Christian is there about him,’ said Terrence Mooney to
his comrades, ‘and is it bastes that we are entirely?’
The sailers did go forward, but they muttered among themselves that they
knew full well what sort of a man the captain was, one of the devil’s
own begetting, and the poor fellows made up their minds to plenty of
blows, and little duff.’ The captain soon disappeared below, and in an
hour or so afterwards was half intoxicated and asleep.
The first mate for some days attended promptly to duty, but he soon
began to ‘shirk,’ and the general direction and sailing of the brig as
a matter of course fell upon Channing, the next in command.--This none
regretted, for although his orders were given in a prompt and decided
tone, and implicit obedience was exacted, yet was his voice musical and
kind, and his orders were almost anticipated by the promptitude of the
willing crew, who soon came to love him for the generous consideration
he evinced for their good and that of the vessel.
A little incident occurred on board of the brig, when eight days from
port, which showed who really commanded the crew of the Constance. The
captain passed the most of his time in the cabin, smoking, drinking, and
dozing away the time, and thus kept but a slack look out upon the men,
notwithstanding his boast at the outset.--One afternoon when a pretty
stiff breeze was blowing from the North West, the mate lay sleeping in
his state room leaving the sailing of the brig to his second, while
the captain was occupied much the same as usual. After a while the mate
awoke and came upon deck. Wishing to make up for his manifest negligence
by some appearance of care at least, as he came up on deck he cast his
eye aloft, and ordered a reef out of the fore and main topsails.
The crew looked at one another in astonishment, for it was evident to
the poorest sailor on board that so far from its being proper to put the
brig under any more sail, it would have been more prudent to have furled
the canvass in question altogether.--The wind had blown fresh all day,
and now as the afternoon advanced, the night breeze began to add its
power to the wind that had blown through the day, until the brig under
the two sails mentioned, and those close reefed, leaped over the waves
with the speed of a racer. The mate repeated his order a second time,
but there was no response from the crew, who slunk away in various
directions with sullen countenances.
‘Mr. Channing,’ said the mate, ‘these men are absolutely mutinous, sir.’
‘I see it, Mr. Bunning.’
‘What’s to be done, sir?’
‘Do you still think it proper to make that sail?’
‘It was the order, sir.’
‘Forward there,’ said Channing in a tone of voice pitched perhaps a key
lower than was his natural voice, ‘lay aloft and shake out the reefs
from the fore and main topsails, cheerily men, away there, with a will,
I say.’
The order had scarcely left the mouth of the second mate before the
agile forms of a score of men sprang lightly up the shrouds to obey the
mandate.
‘How is it the men obey you and not me, Mr. Channing?’
‘Mr. Banning, it is blowing pretty fresh as you must see,’ was the
reply, and perhaps it is rather crowding the brig to make this new sail
just now, but if you think it proper, the men _must_ do it, sir.’
‘Well, put her under what canvass you like,’ said the mate to Channing
as he left the deck, not a little mortified at the scene that had just
taken place.
Channing rather pitied than blamed his fellow officer, and therefore was
determined at any rate that his order should be obeyed; besides, he was
not a person to relax the reins of discipline although much loved by the
crew. He saw the impropriety of putting the brig under more sail as well
as the crew, but it was not for him or them to judge in such a matter
when there was a superior officer on deck. The error was soon remedied
by the good judgment of Channing, and the beautiful vessel buffeting the
waves still sprang on her course in safety, under the care of a higher
power than any on board, bending gracefully under the influence of the
freshening breeze.