This loller here wol prechen us somwhat.
"Nay by my father's soule, that shal be nat,"
Sayde the Shipman, "here shal be nat preche;
He shal no gospel glosen here ne teche:
We leven all in the gret God, quod he.
He wolde sowen som difficultee,
Or springen cockle in our clene come."--_Chaucer_.
As soon as the last echo of the retreating footsteps had died away,
Bertram raised himself up from his couch; and playing the part of one
just in the act of awaking, he yawned and asked for something to eat
and drink. The old woman grumbled, and fetched him the remains of a jug
of whiskey with some biscuit and fish--never troubling herself to
inquire about the palateableness of these viands. Bertram ate and drank
with as little scrupulousness as belonged to his situation; and then,
finding his spirits somewhat restored, he began to question his hostess
afresh:--
"Good mother, I know not whether I was dreaming or half awake; but it
seemed to me that there were fishermen or some such people in the
house; and that the refreshment I have just taken came from their
table."
"Aye," said the old woman drily, "_they_ can find time to dream that do
little with their hands."
"But what would you have me do, my good hostess? Have _you_ any work
for me?"
The old woman shook her head.
"Well then, give me the means of going where I _have_ something to do."
"And where is that?"
"The coast of Wales, for which I was bound when I met with my
misfortune."
"The coast of Wales? Never trouble it: they've rogues enough already."
Then, fixing her eyes steadily on Bertram, she looked thoughtfully; and
shook her head: "Were you ever in Wales before?"
"Never."
"Look well to yourself then."
"And why?"
"The gallows is high, my bonny lad; and they don't stand much upon
ceremony."
"What is it then you take me for? Am I like a thief or a robber?"
"I know not: but you've a wicked look of one that I know well; and he's
doomed to the gallows, if there's a gallows in England."
The old woman now relapsed into her moody silence, or answered only by
peevish monosyllables: and, despairing of gaining any further
information from her, Bertram contented himself with requesting that
she would acquaint him with the first opportunity which might offer for
quitting his present abode; upon which his hostess muttered something
in no very cordial or acquiescing tone; and Bertram, drawing the
blankets about him, resigned himself to the consideration of his
present prospects. He was now so much recovered from his late suffering
and exhaustion, that he felt prepared to set his hostess and her
wolf-dog at defiance: but the scene, which he had just witnessed,
suggested another kind of dangers. He feared that he had been thrown on
a nest of smugglers, or worse: some piratical attempts had recently
been made on the Belgian flag off Antwerp: the parties concerned were
said to be smugglers occupying some rock or islet off the coast of
Wales: and into their hands Bertram began to fear that he had fallen.
Closing his eyes, he continued to ruminate on these possibilities,
until at length he dropped into a slumber.
From this he was awakened in the middle of the night by a hand laid
roughly on his shoulder. He stared up and beheld the old woman at his
bed-side.
"Get up," said she, "or it will be too late. Yonder's a French captain
taking water aboard: make haste, and he'll give you a passage."
Bertram sprang from his couch; recompensed his hostess; and hastily
prepared for departure. In the midst of this hurry however his thoughts
had leisure to revert to those anxieties which had occupied him as he
was falling asleep. Who was this French captain? Whither bound? What
was his connexion with those in whose hands he now found himself? On
what terms, and with what motives, had they treated for his passage?
When all is darkness however, the benighted traveller surrenders
himself to the guidance of any light--though possibly no more than a
wildering ignis fatuus--in the hope that it may lead him out of his
perplexities. And fortunately Bertram had little time to pursue any
train of anxious deliberations: for at this moment two seamen appeared
at the door with a summons to follow them; the French captain having
taken his water aboard, and being on the point of weighing his anchor.
Having made up his mind to take his chance, Bertram prepared cheerfully
to follow his conductors; first offering his acknowledgments however,
in few words, to his ancient hostess, who on her part muttered some
indistinct reply--without raising her eyes, or quitting her usual
posture at the spinning-wheel. The night was profoundly dark, even
after they had cleared the brush-wood and tangled thickets which
smothered up the rocky vault: the weather however was calm; a star or
two gleamed out from the thick pall of clouds; and the sea broke upon
the coast with no more than its ordinary thunders. Supported by his two
guides, Bertram easily contrived to slide down the shingly precipice;
and on reaching the bottom, crossed the beach and stepped on board a
very large twelve-oared boat heavily laden. In the bottom were lying a
number of casks and bales: and she was full of men. But what
particularly struck Bertram was the gloomy silence which prevailed--so
opposite to the spirit of life and gaiety which usually attend the
embarkation of sailors.
Whilst the boat was now cutting her way through the waves, and the
monotonous stroke of the oars broke upon the silence of the night,
Bertram had leisure to renew his speculations upon the nature of his
immediate prospects. A slight circumstance gave them a favourable
color:--at this moment a night-breeze was sweeping pretty freshly over
the water; and Bertram, who had preserved but a slender wardrobe from
his shipwreck, felt its influence so much that he shivered from head to
foot. This was not unobserved: and one of the men drew out a large
woollen boat-cloak, and wrapped it about him with an air of surly
good-nature. This was a trifle, but it indicated that he had fallen
amongst human hearts: and it is benignly arranged by Providence that,
as in this life "trifles light as air" furnish the food of our fears,
our jealousies, and unhappy suspicions,--so also oftentimes from
trifles of no higher character we draw much of our comfort, our hopes,
and assurance.
Although the boat was rowed stoutly, yet--being very deeply
laden--nearly an hour elapsed before she fell alongside the French
captain. A solitary lanthorn or two were twinkling from the sides; and
they were hailed by the party who had the watch, with a--"_Qui va la?_"
uttered however, as Bertram remarked, in a cautious and subdued tone.
To this challenge the boat returned for answer--"_Pecheurs du Roi et de
la Sainte Vierge_:" upon which rope-ladders were dropped; the boat's
company ascended; and the barrels, &c. were hoisted up by pullies to
the deck. Bertram admired the activity, address, and perfect
orderliness, with which so many heavy casks were raised above the decks
and then lowered into their several stations; at the same time that he
could not but suspect, from their number and appearance, that the
business of "watering" was not the only one which had induced the
French captain to drop his anchor at this point. It tended however
somewhat to abate these suspicions--that, by the flashes of the
lanthorns, as they played unsteadily upon the guns, anchors, and
tackling of the vessel, he could distinguish the lilies of France: and
upon inquiry from the helmsman, who spoke to him however in English, he
learned that he was on board a French corvette--_Les trois fleurs de
lys_.
At this moment the wind veered a point; and instantly a voice of
thunder was heard exclaiming
"_Mort de ma vie!_ look sharp: by the three names of Satan, I'll send
you a message else from this little brace of bulldogs: you there at the
foresheet,--be handy, will you? Or by our lady I'll nail you to the
mast, until the cormorants have made their breakfast."
All was now life and activity: the sails were bent and furled: men and
boys were crawling about every part of the rigging: the helmsman took
his quiet station: and just as day began to break, the "Trois fleurs de
lys," with all sails set, was running gaily before a fresh breeze of
wind. She had made a good deal of way before there was light enough for
Bertram to examine the coast he was leaving; and, by the time he became
able to use his eyes with effect, all the details by which it was
possible to have identified the exact situation of his late confinement
were obliterated and melted into indistinct haze which preserved only
the great outlines of the coast: in these the principal feature was a
bold headland; and within _that_ a pretty deep bay.
"What is that promontory called?" said Bertram, addressing an old
sailor who was passing him at the moment.
"What--_that_ right a helm?" said the sailor.
"Yes."
"They call _that_ Lubber's Point."
"And what do you call the bay beyond?"
"The bay? Why Buttermilk bay: and t'other horn to leward is Cape
Sugarcandy."
So saying, the old sailor hitched his trowsers; and with perfect
gravity passed on--leaving Bertram not much in his debt for any
accessions to his geographical knowledge. He had no leisure however
to ruminate on this little specimen of nautical gaiety; for just at
this moment up rolled a brawny thick-set figure, and without any
ceremonies of introduction or salutation spoke to him--or rather spoke
_at_ him--thus:
"So!--This is the son of a gun that was asking for a passage?"
The lordly step and gay confidence of eye sufficiently announced to
Bertram that he who addressed him was the captain of the ship: apart
from which claims of rank, he was striking enough by mere personal
appearance to have commanded the homage of very particular attention
from any judicious spectator. His figure was short, broad, and
prodigiously muscular; his limbs, though stunted, appearing knotty and
(in woodman's language) gnarled; at the same time that the trunk of his
body was lusty--and, for a seaman, somewhat unwieldy. In age he seemed
nearer to seventy than sixty; but still manifested an unusual strength
hardened to the temper of steel by constant exposure to the elements
and by a life of activity. The colour of his hair was probably white;
that is, _per se_, and with reference to its absolute or fundamental
base; but by smoke and neglect it had been tarnished into grim upper
strata of rusty grey and sullen yellow--which, contrasted with a broad
fiery disk of face--harsh bushy eyebrows--and a Bardolph nose,
effectually extinguished all ideas of the _venerable_ which might else
have been suggested by his age. A pair of keen grey eyes looked out
from a mass of flesh in which they were sunk; and by their cat-like
glances showed pretty clearly that in the hour of danger and conflict
they could awaken into another sort of expression more characteristic
of the man; an expression however, which, in this "piping time of
peace" and in the hours of his gentle morning potations, was content
habitually to slumber. The Captain's gait we have described as
"rolling;" which in fact it was; but without meaning at all, by that
expression, to derogate from its firmness: for firm it also was as the
tread of a hippopotamus; and wheresoever the sole of his vast splay
foot was planted, _there_ a man would have sworn it had taken root like
a young oak: but a figure as broad as his could do no other than roll
when treading the deck of a vessel that was ploughing through a gay
tumbling sea. As to dress, the Captain wore long slops of striped
linen; stout shoes; and immense shoe-buckles: but for the upper
part of his costume, in spite of his official dignity, he chose to
sport--instead of the long uniform coat of a French captain, a short
blue jacket worn over a red waistcoat; to which last was attached a
broad leathern belt bearing a brace of pistols; and depending from the
belt by a short chain he carried a Turkish scymeter in a silver
scabbard. Upon his head only could he be said to wear any mark of
distinction that proclaimed his rank; for upon his hat--which was a
round one like that of all the crew, and slouched like theirs, but a
little higher,--he advanced, by way of cockade (and as a badge at once
of the national flag he hoisted and of his own rank), a very conspicuous
white lily.
Such was the portly personage that now came up to Bertram, or rather
shouldered him in passing, and summoned him as it seemed to face about
by demanding in the voice of a Stentor:--
"So!--this is the son of a gun that was asking for a passage?"
Bertram turned to face the Captain's side, made his bow, and modestly
replied that he _was_ the person who had been a candidate for that
honour.
Without altering his oblique position, the Captain slightly turned his
head, carelessly glanced his eye over Bertram's person, and replied
thus:
"So!--Humph!--Damn!--And where do you want to go ashore?"
"At Bristol," said Bertram, "or any place on the coast of Wales."
"Bristol?--the devil! Coast of Wales? The devil's grandmother! Was the
like ever heard?--Captain le Harnois to alter his course, the _Trois
fleurs de lys_ to tack and wear--drop her anchor and weigh her anchor,
for a smock-faced vagabond?"
"But I thought, Sir,--that is, I understood,--that the _Fleurs de lys_
was expressly purposing to cruize off the Welch coast?
"Expressly purposing a tobacco-box!--I tell you what, Tom Drum: there's
a d---d deal too many rogues running about these seas--a d---d deal;
and the English police is no great shakes of a police that doesn't look
more sharply after them:--Who the devil are you?"
Bertram was preparing to answer this unceremonious question; but the
Captain interrupted him--
"Aye: I can see with half an eye: an Abram man; a mumper; a knight of
the post; that jumps up behind coaches, and cuts the straps of
portmanteaus: steals into houses in the dusk: waylays poor old people
and women, to rob them of their rags and their halfpence. For as to the
highway, and cutting throats, I think he has hardly metal for that. Or
may be he's a juggler; a rope-dancer; and plays off his _hocus pocus_
on people's pockets?"
"Upon my word, Captain, you put unspeakable wrong upon me."
"With all my heart: God give you health to wear it!"
Touched to the quick by these affronts, Bertram drew out his
pocket-book; and taking out some papers, he presented them with all the
_hauteur_ he could assume to the Captain; saying, at the same time----
"If, Sir, you will do me the honour to run your eye over my passport
and the certificates annexed, I am disposed to think that I shall not
need any further vindication from the suspicions you are pleased to
intimate."
"Toll-de-roll-loll!" said Captain le Harnois: "what's this trumpery?
Whose pot-hooks are these?" At the same time negligently unfolding the
papers, and tearing several by his coarse way of handling them. He
threw a hasty glance over one or two: but it struck Bertram that he was
holding them upside down. Be that as it might,--after tumbling,
mumbling, and tearing one document after another,--the noble Captain
tossed them all on the deck, advanced the broad extinguisher of his
foot upon--them--blew out a cloud of breath into the morning air, and
exclaimed--
"Pooh--pooh! Tom Drum: Lillibullero! 'Twon't do:--forged papers! Never
think to put off your rogue's tricks on Captain le Harnois." So saying
he rolled off to complete his quarter-deck turn, preparing however to
open his fire again when he came upon the other tack.
Bertram's indignation was naturally great at what he viewed as an
unprovoked outrage; and in spite of his precarious situation, and
though fully aware that he was in the Captain's power, he was on the
point of giving a loose to those feelings which calumniated innocence
is at all times privileged to express--when the boatswain tapped him on
the shoulder and whispered in his ear:
"Easy, master, easy: the Captain doesn't mean all he says: he speaks
worse than he thinks, when he has taken his breakfast rather early. He
takes brandy to breakfast, you understand. Twice a day he hauls his
wind, and speaks you as fair as a man could wish; just afore breakfast,
that's once; your next time's just afore noon. Oh! but it's pleasant
talking with the Captain then."
At this moment Captain le Harnois was again bearing down; and, just
as he brought his broadside to bear, Bertram--who was in the act
of gathering up his scattered papers and replacing them in his
pocket-book-contented himself with observing that on shore he hoped at
least to meet with some magistrate that would pay more respect to
papers regularly authenticated.
"Shore magistrate!" thundered the Captain, "the dragon and his horns!
what's a shore magistrate more than a salt-water magistrate? _Mort de
ma vie!_ I take it a Captain's commission, with four ministers' hands
to it--signed and countersigned, should be as good as a lubber's
warrant. What talk to me of lawyers and justices? The _Fleurs de lys_
is as good a lawyer as I know. Egad, when she shows her teeth" (and
here Captain le Harnois grinned horribly, and showed his own which
"after _their_ kind" were not less formidable),--"Egad, she can lay
down the law too: egad, can she: aye and I've seen the day" (and here
the Captain chuckled in a fondling tone), "I've seen the day that the
little wanton devil has _made_ law: and d---d good law it was; though
some said not--blast their eyes!"
To all this Bertram was silent: and Captain le Harnois, pursuing his
tender remembrances, broke out afresh:
"Ah the pretty little vengeful devil!--Ha! ha! ha! I remember----but
d---n me, if that's not the very thing that Master Tommy here is
thinking of. He has heard that story; or some other as good; and that's
what he means by singing out for shore law. But, youngster, I'd have
you to know _that's_ all over: that score's rubbed out; and the little
frisky gipsy (d---n her for a little hardened devil!) has got her
pardon. All's right now: her decks are washed: she has a chaplain on
board; and she carries the flag of His Most Christian Majesty."
"Indeed!" said Bertram.
"Aye indeed, most venerable youth; the flag of _Louis le Desire_, do
you hear? Have you any thing to say against that? What does Smock-face
think of the Bourbons? Is Smock-face not a good subject? Eh?"
"Captain le Harnois, I am neither a French subject by birth; nor in any
respect indebted to the French government; nor owe it any obedience. On
which account I am sure you will see the propriety of dispensing with
any declaration of my political sentiments in this matter."
"What, what, what? not Bourbonish? Oh! but that's a foul fault, master
Tommy. My ship--(d---n her for a little vixen! she doesn't know
what she'd be at!)--My ship, _she's_ Bourbonish: _I_'m Bourbonish: my
lads--_they_'re Bourbonish: we're all Bourbonish: and I'll have nobody
swabbing my deck, that's not Bourbonish."
"I congratulate myself," said Bertram, "on sailing with so loyal a
subject of his Most Christian Majesty."
"Aye, _that's_ soon said. But, if youngster is not Bourbonish, is he
not _liberal_ neither?"
"Such are my unfortunate circumstances, Captain le Harnois, that at
present it is wholly out of my power to be liberal: I really----."
"Come, _that's_ well however: glad of that: that's something,
my shy cock: any thing but a liberal or a constitutional. Cut
portmanteau-straps; waylay old women; hocus pocus; any thing you like.
But I'll have no liberal doings here: no liberality shall be found on
board of me, whilst my name's le Harnois. Damn! I've a character to
support.
"I believe we mistake each other: there are different sorts of
liberality; and what I meant to say was----
"I care nothing about it: it signifies nothing talking about sorts of
liberality: I'll have _no_ sort.--And now, pray, what religion are you
of? Has Smock-face no religion, eh?"
"Really, Captain le Harnois, it does appear to me, that no man is
authorized or commissioned, merely upon the strength of flinging a rope
to a drowning man, or affording him some common office of humanity, to
institute an inquiry into his religious creed."
"Oh crimini! Not commissioned? By my commission I'm to lay hold
of every man that has any thing to say against his Most Christian
Majesty--the Catholic faith--or our Lady. My commission is that I'm to
overhaul _every_ man's religion. And as to what younker says about
flinging a rope,--a rope's end for it! If I fling a rope to a drowning
man and he lays hold of it, by my commission I'm to say--Ahoy there,
waterfowl, are you religious? Is your religion so and so? And, if he
sings out--_No_, my commission is to let go the rope and to say--Then
first of all get baptized with salt water; and, when that's done, come
and tell Captain le Harnois. _That's_ my commission. D---n! I think I
should know what my commission is: d---n!"
"But, Captain, you can surely make allowances for my education: _that_
may have been unfortunate; but still I profess the most entire respect
for the Romish church and her adherents."
"Respect and be d---d! I'll have no respect; I'll have religion--pure,
neat, religion--with none of your Protestant water in it, or d---d half
and half. My ship, a little vixen, _she's_ religious: for I tell you
she's had her decks scrubbed by the chaplain: _I_'m religious; ship's
company's religious: we're _all_ religious. And my passengers shall be
religious: or my name's not le Harnois. For my commission says, that
I'm to have none but the very best of Christians aboard: prime
articles, and none else: no damaged lots."
Bertram was perfectly confounded at hearing of such intense orthodoxy
on board a man of war: but he was disposed to question the entire
accuracy of the representation on chancing to observe, that all the
crew, who were behind the Captain's back, were laughing as they went
about their work. Captain le Harnois himself seemed more than half
disposed to laugh at his own picture of the holy _Fleurs de lys_. But
at this moment he began to feel drowsy; and, giving up for the present
any further examination of his passenger's theology, he got under
weigh for his cabin: grumbling out, as he advanced, but without looking
back--
"Well: this'll do for the first examination. And for our Lady's sake,
and for the honour of the white lily, Smockface may bundle himself
between decks--till the next time that we pump ship; and then he must
over board with the bilge water. We must be charitable now and then for
our Lady's sake. But let us have no irreligion. Let all be handsome,
lovely, Bourbonish, and religious. What the d---l! An irreligious
dog aboard Captain le Harnois? But I shall overhaul his principles:
for that's what my commission says: else my name's not le Harnois:
damn!"--With which emphatic monosyllable, ascending in a growl from the
bottom of the companion ladder, Captain le Harnois concluded his matins
on the deck of the _Fleurs de lys_.
A roar of laughter followed his final disappearance; and a succession
of songs, which seemed any thing but "handsome, lovely, Bourbonish,
or religious."