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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75313 ***
+
+Transcriber’s Note: Obvious printing errors have been corrected. Original
+period spelling, though, has been maintained.
+
+
+
+
+                           EMMANUEL APPADOCCA;
+                                   OR,
+                              BLIGHTED LIFE.
+
+                        A TALE OF THE BOUCANEERS.
+
+                                    BY
+                             MAXWELL PHILIP.
+
+                  Φεῦ. ὦ μῆτερ ἥτις ἐκ τυραννικῶν δόμων
+                  δούλειον ἦμαρ εἶδες, ὡς πράσσεις κακῶς,
+                  ὅσονπερ εὖ ποτ᾽· ἀντισηκώσας δέ σε
+                  φθείρει θεῶν τις τῆς πάροιθ᾽ εὐπραξίας.
+
+                                               EURIPIDES.
+
+                             IN TWO VOLUMES.
+                                 VOL. I.
+
+                                 LONDON:
+                       CHARLES J. SKEET, PUBLISHER,
+                 10, KING WILLIAM STREET, CHARING CROSS.
+
+                                MDCCCLIV.
+
+
+
+
+TO HARRY DANIELS, ESQ.,
+
+                                                   4, ESSEX COURT, TEMPLE.
+
+
+DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I DEDICATE TO YOU THE FIRST-BORN OF MY BRAINS. RECEIVE THIS TRIFLING
+MARK OF ESTEEM IN THE SPIRIT IN WHICH IT IS MADE, AND ACCEPT THE WILLING
+HOMAGE THAT I RENDER TO—OH, MOST RARE POSSESSION!—A GOOD AND TRUE HEART.
+
+                                                           MAXWELL PHILIP.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+This work has been written at a moment when the feelings of the Author
+are roused up to a high pitch of indignant excitement, by a statement
+of the cruel manner in which the slave-holders of America deal with
+their slave-children. Not being able to imagine that even that dissolver
+of natural bonds—slavery—can shade over the hideousness of begetting
+children for the purpose of turning them out into the fields to labour
+at the lash’s sting, he has ventured to sketch out the line of conduct,
+which a high-spirited and sensitive person would probably follow, if
+he found himself picking cotton under the spurring encouragement of
+“Jimboes” or “Quimboes” on his own father’s plantation.
+
+The machinery, or ground-work of the story is based on truth—the known
+history of the Boucaneers. It is scarcely necessary to tell the reader
+that the other parts are fiction.
+
+The scenes are laid principally in the Island of Trinidad. This is done
+entirely from natural predilection, for Trinidad is the Author’s native
+isle, whose green woods, smiling sky, beautiful flowers, and romantic
+gulf, together with a thousand sweet and melting associations, eternally
+play on his willing memory, and make him cherish ever the fond hope, that
+when the spark of life shall have been extinguished, his bones may be
+deposited on the rising ground that looks over the sea, and that already
+contains the being who, in death, as well as she was in life, was the
+object of his deep love and high veneration.
+
+    4, ELM COURT, TEMPLE.
+
+    _February, 1854._
+
+
+
+
+EMMANUEL APPADOCCA;
+
+OR,
+
+BLIGHTED LIFE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+    “Plots have I laid; inductions dangerous,”—
+
+                                 RICHARD III.
+
+
+Between the north-west coast of Venezuela and the island of Trinidad
+there lies an extensive expanse of water, known as the Gulf of Paria:—a
+name which it has derived from the neighbouring Spanish coast.
+
+At first sight this gulf presents to the eye the appearance of a vast
+lake. On the north, east, and south, it is bordered by the dark mountains
+of Trinidad: while, on the opposite side the cloud-capt Andes, which
+terminate in that direction, rear their towering heads, and present a
+lofty western boundary.
+
+The gulf, thus narrowly surrounded on all sides, communicates with the
+great Atlantic ocean only by two narrow outlets, which are situated
+at its northern and southern extremities, and are respectively named
+“the Dragon’s, and the Serpent’s Mouth.” It is by these narrow straits,
+as the reader will have already gathered, that Trinidad is separated
+from the mainland of South America. Shielded as they are by these
+elevated boundaries, the waters of the gulf are ever calm and placid.
+The hurricanes which periodically ravage the adjacent regions, never
+sweep their quiet surface: and ships from the ports of the neighbouring
+colonies usually avail themselves of the protection afforded by this
+sheltered haven, and safely ride away the tempestuous months on its
+smooth expanse.
+
+The scenery around this gulf is extremely picturesque and beautiful.
+Small green islands are dispersed here and there, and seem to float gaily
+on the bosom of the slumbering waters; the forest-clothed mountains that
+beetle from above, cast their lengthy shadows far and wide, and the
+diving birds that continually ply the wing over the reflecting surface,
+throw into the scene some of the choicest features of romantic beauty.
+
+It was here, that, on a lovely morning in the month of March, two skiffs
+might barely be seen floating quietly far, far away at sea.
+
+It was as yet early: the gray mist of the tropical morning was just
+melting away before the rays of the rising sun, that was fast ascending
+from behind the mountains in the east; a thin haze, nevertheless, was
+still left surrounding every object. Scarcely a ripple as yet marked the
+gulf, and in the quiet of the hour might be heard the waking haloos of
+the mariners on board their ships in the harbour of Port of Spain, as
+they summoned each other to the labours of the day.
+
+The two skiffs were at a great distance from land. In the haze it was
+difficult on a hasty glance to distinguish them from the sea; but, on
+closer observation, they might be discovered to be a small fishing-boat,
+such as those which are generally seen on the gulf, and a curial, or
+Indian canoe.
+
+There were three men in the fishing-boat: two who were rowers, and one
+that was sitting at its stern, and was apparently the master. He was of
+mixed blood: of that degree known as that of mulatto, and seemingly of
+Spanish extraction, but his two men were blacks. The men were resting on
+their oars, the master was occupied in deep sea-fishing, and the boat
+floated passively on the water. In the Indian canoe there seemed also but
+three men: one sat at the stern, the other two crouched in the centre,
+their paddles were carelessly rested on the sides of the light vessel,
+and the canoe, like the fishing-boat, was permitted to float unsteered on
+the gulf.
+
+The two skiffs were not far from each other, and as the haze cleared
+away, the master of the fishing-boat, in the musing calm attendant on
+quiet fishing, observed to his men, as he dreamingly looked on the canoe—
+
+“Those fellows are Guaragons; I dare say they paddled from the canoe the
+whole of last night, and they are now taking their breakfast to get up to
+town before the breeze rises.”
+
+“Yes, sa,” briskly rejoined one of the boatmen; “dey wok all night,
+all nakid as dey be dey; dey no ’fraid rain, dey no ’fraid sun,
+but wen dey begin dey wok—wok so—night and day, you see paddle go
+phshah—phshah—phshah,” here the speaker screwed up his little features
+to the utmost, in order to express the energy with which the Indians are
+supposed to paddle, while, at the same time, he endeavoured to imitate
+the sound of the paddle itself, as it dashes the water.
+
+“Awh!” he exclaimed, with emphasis, after this display, “dey no get dis
+Jack Jimmy,” pointing to himself, “foo do dat—no:—oohn—oohn,” and he
+shook his head energetically.
+
+The master smiled both at the humour of his man, and the horror which he
+appeared to entertain for the work and exposure of the Indians.
+
+“And den wha dey eat,” he continued, “ripe plantin! dey eat ripe plantin
+fo brofost, ripe plantin fo dinna—awh! me no know how dey get fat, but
+dey always berry fat.”
+
+The strange little man continued in this vein to make his remarks about
+the Indians, and the master attended to his line until the morning was
+considerably advanced, and the sun had already risen to a great height.
+
+“Now, my boys,” said the last mentioned individual, “I think it is time
+for us to go, we have not had much luck to-day.” With this he began
+leisurely to draw in his line, gazing listlessly on the Indian canoe,
+while he did so,—“but these fellows are taking a long time to eat their
+ripe plantains this morning, Jack Jimmy,” he observed.
+
+“Me tink so foo true, sa,” replied the individual answering to that name.
+
+“An da big Injan in de tern a de canoe da look pan awee berry hard—berry
+hard—he bin da look pan awee all de manin so,” and then looking anxiously
+on the canoe, he continued, “an me no da see parrat, me no da see monkey,
+me no da see notting pan de side a de canoe, an you neber see Injan ya
+widout parrat an monkey.”
+
+Having delivered himself of this sage opinion, he looked at the canoe
+again, long and anxiously, shook his head, and moved restlessly on his
+thwart.
+
+“What is the matter with you, Jack Jimmy,” inquired the master, “you
+seem to be displeased with these Indians?”
+
+Jack Jimmy made no answer, but gave expression to a sound like “hom!”
+Then began to look into the bottom of the boat, while he beat time
+apparently to his own ruminations with his chubby great toe.
+
+“But what is the matter with you, man?” again inquired the master.
+
+“Massa—massa—me—me-me-me no like close, close so to Injans pan big salt
+water, so, no.”
+
+The first part of the sentence Jack Jimmy pronounced moodily, but he shot
+out the latter part with such rapidity and earnestness, that the gravity
+of the master could hold out no longer, and he laughed heartily at his
+man.
+
+“Bah! you fool,” said he, when the fit was over: “what do you expect
+these Indians will do to us?”
+
+Jack Jimmy, much piqued at being laughed at, raised his shoulders, and
+answered stoically—“Me no know; but me tink we better go.”
+
+“Yes: we are not doing anything here, and there does not seem much
+prospect of having better luck,” said the master, “let us go.”
+
+He then took up his paddle from the bottom of the boat, and put it over
+the stern to steer it.
+
+The men began to row, and the little boat began to move through the water.
+
+The Indian canoe, which had remained all the time as passive on the
+water as the fishing-boat, was now also put in motion, by two paddles,
+and seemed to be steered in the same direction as the fishing-boat. Jack
+Jimmy saw this, opened his eyes, and cried, in a voice that began to
+tremble,—“Dey da come, too.” The master looked round, and saw in truth
+that the canoe was following in their wake.
+
+The three persons now became somewhat uneasy, and anxious, about the
+intentions of their mysterious follower. After a time, however, when they
+saw it was not gaining ground upon them, nor seemed to be propelled with
+any intention of coming up to them, these feelings were considerably
+diminished, and they pulled calmly along, while the canoe followed at the
+same distance from the little boat.
+
+When the fishing-boat had reached to within a mile of the ships which lay
+in the harbour of Port of Spain, the master was challenged by a brisk
+“Haloo” from the man at the stern of the canoe.
+
+“Haloo, there!” cried the man in a commanding voice, “haloo, there—stop!”
+
+The master paid no attention to this order, but pretended that he did
+not hear it, or did not consider it addressed to him, and he remained
+silent; but Jack Jimmy had not so much command over himself.
+
+“Wha,” cried he, “wha eber yierry Injan peak plain—plain so? hen!” and he
+shook his head mysteriously. “But wha,” following out his reflections,
+“dey want we fo tap foo—tell dem we no da sell fish, ya; let dem come
+sho.”
+
+“Will you stop, there—ho?” again cried the man from the stern of the
+pursuing canoe.
+
+“We cannot stop,” replied the master, “if you wish to buy fish, come
+ashore. Pull boys,” addressing himself to his men; “those seem to be
+strange customers.” Jack Jimmy and the other boatman bent on their oars.
+
+As soon as the little fishing-boat was put in a more rapid movement, ten
+Indians simultaneously sprung as if it were by magic from the bottom of
+the canoe, and ranged themselves at its sides, paddle in hand.
+
+“Wha, look dey!” cried Jack Jimmy, pointing tremblingly to the canoe,
+“pull,” addressing himself to his companion, “pull, me tell you:” and
+he himself drew his oar with all the energy and vigour which fear alone
+can impart. “Pull, me tell you,” continued he, every moment, to exhort
+his companion; “pull, me tell you.” Under these efforts the little shell
+boat skipped like a feather over the water: but it was no match for the
+canoe, propelled as it was by the vigorous paddles of twelve stout men.
+
+Like an arrow from an Indian bow, or like the noiseless course of a
+serpent, through the lake it drew on the little fishing boat. Jack Jimmy
+and his companion exerted themselves to the utmost; the master too, plied
+his paddle strongly and continuously, but nearer and nearer the canoe
+approached. When at last it came opposite the pursued, the man at the
+stern dexterously threw his paddle on the other side, a rapid movement
+was made through the water, and the head of the canoe was at once athwart
+the little fishing boat.
+
+Jack Jimmy could bear it no longer; as soon as the boat was boarded,
+with a convulsive spring, he plunged into the gulf; while the syllables
+of his interjected “Garamighty” bubbled up after him as he disappeared.
+But the first impulse of the master was to draw his knife from the side
+of the boat, where it was stuck in a chink of the boards, and with a
+deep-mouthed “carajo” was going to plunge it into the nearest Indian, but
+his arm was no sooner raised than it was paralized by a blow dealt him
+with his paddle by a man at the stern, and the knife fell from his grasp
+into the water.
+
+“Fool,” cried the man who had thus struck him, “what is the use of your
+resistance: do you not see we number more than you? Get into this canoe
+immediately, you and your man, and see if you can save that strange
+creature that is capering on the water there;” and he pointed to Jack
+Jimmy, who had now come again to the surface, and in the extremity of
+his fear, with his mouth wide open, and his white eye-balls glaring, was
+swimming most furiously out to sea. The sight was too ridiculous even
+for the occasion; the whole of the Indians burst into a fit of laughter
+at poor Jack Jimmy, who was fatiguing himself at such a rate that his
+strength would probably not have lasted more than two minutes.
+
+“Paddle to that poor fellow,” said the man at the stern, and the order
+was obeyed. But Jack Jimmy would not be taken; he dived several times to
+escape, to the no small amusement of the Indians: his strength however
+began to fail, and he was at last captured.
+
+They took him into the canoe, when he was almost exhausted, and he was
+laid at the bottom of it, where he kept his eyes closed and stretched
+himself stiffly out, to pretend that he was dead. The Indians seemed
+highly amused by him. At last, however, he ventured to open his eyes,
+when, seeing some cutlasses and pikes that lay by his side at the bottom
+of the canoe, he closed them abruptly again and cried, “Oh La-a-r-rd, me
+dead!”
+
+When Jack Jimmy had been saved from drowning, the master and the other
+rower were transhipped into the canoe. The master, shrewder than his
+men, thought he observed, in addition to the circumstance of speaking
+English, other marks in the Indians which resembled disguise. They seemed
+more assured and less savage than Indians generally are; besides, they
+had thick beards and mustachios which the savages never wear; and, above
+all, their arms, instead of being rude bows and arrows, or at best rusty
+fowling pieces, were beautiful rifles, cutlasses and pikes.
+
+“But who are you?” he inquired after he had detected these appearances,
+and become justly alarmed by them. “Who are you, and what do you intend
+to do with us?”
+
+“With regard to the first question,” answered the man at the stern with
+stoical coolness, “That is not any business of yours;—in answer to the
+second, be assured that we mean you no harm. I hope you are satisfied.
+Now, my order to you is, that you ask no further questions.”
+
+“But, sir,—” the master was about to inquire again.
+
+“Silence!” cried the man in a voice that carried authority.
+
+He then took a small telescope that was concealed in a locker formed
+in the thwart on which he sat, and began to examine the ships and the
+harbour with seemingly great care and minuteness.
+
+This examination continued for the best part of an hour, after which
+the man at the stern handed the telescope to the master fisherman and
+requested him to look also at the ships: “for,” added he, “you will have
+to answer questions about them.”
+
+“I know them already,” answered the master and returned the telescope.
+
+The latter instrument was carefully replaced, and a small marine compass
+was taken out of the same locker and placed before the man at the stern.
+
+“To your paddles, it is now two o’clock and will be late before we
+arrive.”
+
+The head of the canoe was immediately turned out to sea. The men plied
+their paddles, and the wind, which had just risen, wafted the light bark
+rapidly before it. Its destination, however, was incomprehensible to the
+fishermen, for they could not possibly conceive to what place a canoe
+that was thus turned out to open sea could be bound.
+
+But whatever alarm they felt, they were obliged to conceal; for it would
+have been dangerous, they thought, to break the strict command of the
+man at the stern; and whatever they could have said or done, would have
+had no effect on men who seemed to be little accustomed to be crossed,
+and who, undoubtedly, had the power of enforcing their will.
+
+They resigned themselves, therefore, passively to their fate: and did so
+with the greater readiness, as they had not, as yet, experienced, from
+those among whom they were so strangely thrown, any treatment which could
+lead them to apprehend anything horrible or atrocious.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+    “—Observe degree, priority, and place,
+    Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
+    Office, and custom in all line of order—”
+
+                           TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
+
+
+The canoe held a direct course out to sea the remaining part of the day.
+This was drawing fast to a close, when there might be perceived, straight
+over the bows of the canoe, and far, far away, a small dark object
+that seemed to rest lightly on the horizon, which was, at that moment,
+illumined by the red rays of the large round sun that was fast sinking
+behind it.
+
+The head of the canoe was kept direct upon that speck, and the man at the
+stern seemed to make no more use of his compass.
+
+Such was the rapidity with which the canoe went, borne away, as it was,
+by the breeze, as well as propelled by the paddles of twelve strong men,
+that within three hours after sunset, they were close to that which, a
+short time before, had appeared so small, so shadowy, and so distant.
+
+The object proved to be a low, black, balahoo schooner, whose model, as
+far as it could be observed by the starlight, was most beautiful. She was
+built as sharply as a sword, with her bows terminating in the shape of a
+Gar’s lance, while her stern slanted off in the most graceful proportions.
+
+But the most remarkable part in her build, was her immense and almost
+disproportioned length, which, combined with her perfectly straight
+lines, low hull, and the slenderness of her make, gave her the appearance
+of a large serpent.
+
+Her rigging was of the lightest fashion as two simple shrouds, which
+supported each mast, and the bowsprit and jibboom stays formed her
+principal cordage.
+
+There was not a yard, a gaff, or piece of canvass aloft, so that the
+tall masts remained bare and graceful, shining under their polish. On
+these accounts, they could not be perceived at any distance, and a boat,
+discovering the vessel for the first time, would be at a loss to make out
+what floating object it was.
+
+Her position also, and the manner in which she seemed moored—mastless,
+as it would appear—was strange and peculiar. She was not swinging to the
+wind or current, but she rode under a bow and stern anchor, which kept
+her head directly towards the Dragon’s Mouth, while the rippling waves,
+that still curled before the gentle night breeze, broke playfully on her
+side.
+
+“What word?” sounded the hoarse and echoing voice of some one on the
+deck, as the canoe approached the schooner.
+
+“Scorpion,” the man replied in as sounding a voice, and the canoe boarded
+the vessel.
+
+The ladders were thrown out over the sides, and the man at the stern
+jumped nimbly on deck.
+
+A sentinel stationed at the gangway lowered his weapon, and the man at
+the stern, for so we must still call him, passed.
+
+The sentinel was a tall muscular man of a dark complexion; his face was
+almost entirely covered with hair, on his head he wore a red cap, he had
+on a red woollen shirt, his trowsers were black, and were secured round
+his waste by a thick red sash, in which were stuck a brace of pistols and
+a long poniard.
+
+These and a cutlass, which he held in his hand, were his only weapons.
+
+As soon as the man at the stern was on deck he was accosted by a tall,
+thin person with flowing mustachios, and with marks of distinction from
+the sentinel, both in dress and in his appearance. He was richly and
+tastefully accoutred. He wore a jet black frock coat, which was richly
+but simply embroidered with gold; his trowsers were of unspotted white,
+and displayed neat and highly polished boots; round his waist he wore a
+richly fringed crimson sash, in which pistols and a poniard were also
+stuck; and a slender belt supported a handsome sword by his side. His
+head was covered by a red cap, and rich gold epaulets rested on his
+shoulders.
+
+“Lorenzo,” said this individual, addressing the new comer in a low and
+pleasant tone, “I am happy to see you back. Success, I hope.”
+
+“Success,” answered Lorenzo briefly but courteously, “I have three
+strangers there in the boat, of whom, pray, order your watch to take
+care; the captain, I suppose is in his cabin, so I shall see him by the
+dawn of day. Good night, Sebastian, good watch.”
+
+“Farewell,” answered the party addressed, and Lorenzo, our former man at
+the stern, disappeared.
+
+This short dialogue carried on, as it was, in an under tone, scarcely
+broke the extraordinary silence which reigned on board the mysterious
+schooner.
+
+After Lorenzo had disappeared, Sebastian ordered his men to take charge
+of the three prisoners in the canoe, who were accordingly brought on
+deck. Jack Jimmy, who after his fear had been lulled by the apparent
+harmless treatment of the Indians, had fallen fast asleep, was the most
+struck when awakening, with the extraordinary position in which he found
+himself suddenly placed. When he got on deck, he stood as if his limbs
+would not support him; he first looked aloft at the tapering masts of
+the schooner, then on the deck, and when his eyes fell on the men by
+whom he was surrounded, he opened his mouth for an instant in mute
+amazement, and succeeded at length to give expression to his terror in
+the words—“Garamighty! way me be? Wha dish ya?”
+
+“Softly, my little man,” said the sentinel, in a voice that contrasted
+strangely with the weak shriek of the terror-stricken Jack Jimmy, “we
+don’t speak so loud here.”
+
+“Massa, me hush,” was the immediate answer of Jack Jimmy, and he closed
+his lips as firmly as he could, as an earnest of his determination to
+keep silence; but in the dark the white of his eyes may have been seen
+revolving from object to object with the rapidity of lightning.
+
+“Follow this way,” said a man, who had received instructions from the
+officer, to the prisoners; and he led them down a narrow stair-case to a
+small cabin in the foremost part of the vessel. “This is where you are to
+sleep to-night,” said he to them, after they had been ushered in: “do you
+require anything?”
+
+The captives answered in the negative.
+
+“Well,” continued the man, “make yourselves comfortable for the night,
+and be awake betimes to-morrow to see our captain—he gets up early.”
+
+He then posted himself at the door of the cabin, with his cutlass in his
+hand, like one who was to pass the whole night there. Not a sound more
+was heard on board the schooner that night.
+
+When morning had arrived, the prisoners were brought on deck, and
+requested to be prepared to appear before the captain immediately.
+
+The strange vessel on board of which they found themselves, could be
+better examined by daylight than by the dim star-gleam of the preceding
+night. The long level deck was scoured as white as snow; not a speck, not
+a nail-head, not the minutest particle of anything could be discovered
+upon it. The very seams were filled up in such a manner, that the
+material which made them impervious to water, imparted an appearance of
+general cleanliness. The halliards were all beautifully adjusted at the
+foot of each mast, and made up for the moment in the shape of mats, or
+other fanciful forms. The belaying pins, that were lined with brass,
+were beautifully polished, while the tapering masts were as clean and
+as smooth as ivory. The arrangement of the deck, also, was exceedingly
+neat: nothing but a few beautiful and simple machines for hoisting were
+to be seen, and in properly-disposed recesses in the bulwarks, glimpses
+might be caught of the rude instruments of destruction—of pikes that
+looked horrible even in their places of rest,—axes whose shining edges
+made the blood run chill, and grappling-irons, whose tortuous and crooked
+prongs made the nerves recoil with the thoughts of agony which they
+brought up. An awning, as white as the deck which it sheltered, was
+spread from the stem to the stern of the schooner.
+
+Men dressed and armed, as the sentinel of the preceding evening, were
+leaning here and there, conversing together in a low tone of voice.
+
+Of all these things, the one which particularly attracted the attention
+of the strangers was the extraordinary device that everything on board
+the schooner bore; namely, a death’s head placed on the crossing of two
+dead men’s bones. This was imprinted on the rigging of the schooner, on
+its tackle, on the weapons which were arranged in the bulwarks, and the
+men wore it in front of their blood-red caps, and on their arms. This
+strange circumstance had a powerful effect on the prisoners: Jack Jimmy
+opened his mouth and eyes, and seemed, on contemplating that sign, to
+devote himself to death already; and the master fisherman became still
+more anxious than he had been from the first. He recollected that in
+the various stories with which he and his fellows in the same pursuit
+had beguiled many a tedious hour, pirates were represented as always
+displaying a black flag, on which the same sad mementoes of mortality, as
+those which he saw everywhere on board the schooner, were imprinted.
+
+The thought immediately broke in upon him that he might at that moment be
+among those lawless men, about whose horrible cruelties he had heard so
+much, and he shuddered at the reflection.
+
+It is true he had not, up to that moment, experienced any personal
+outrage or even incivility; but might he not be reserved for those
+shocking tortures to which he had heard pirates were accustomed to
+resort, for the purpose of forcing their victims to the confession of
+what was alike improbable and impossible? His reflections now became
+gloomy and distressing; and thoughts that rush upon a man only at his
+last moments, or in situations of imminent danger, began now to force
+themselves upon him.
+
+This train of thoughts was broken by Lorenzo, who suddenly emerged from
+the companion of the chief cabin and approached him.
+
+Lorenzo presented quite a different appearance from what he did under his
+Indian disguise of the day before.
+
+He was cleanly washed of the red ochre with which he had painted his
+skin; it now appeared fresh and clear, as it was by nature, although a
+little embronzed by a tropical sun. His features, which could now be
+properly read, expressed a character of manly firmness, softened by much
+humanity and tenderness. He wore the same dress as the officer whom he
+met on duty the previous night, with the slight exception that his red
+cap was more richly decorated. This seemed to be a badge of distinction,
+and it could be at once perceived from the manner in which he acted, that
+Lorenzo was in high command on board the strange schooner.
+
+“The prisoners will not be wanted for half an hour,” he said to the man
+on duty; “you may retire with them.”
+
+He then went back, and descended the stairs by which he had ascended.
+
+These stairs led to a wide passage in the main-deck of the vessel, which
+extended from the stem to the door of the main cabin: he turned to the
+right, and proceeded to the part where that cabin was situated.
+
+He passed by a number of doors and passages, but proceeded straight down
+the one in which he was, until he arrived at a certain door that stood
+immediately opposite to him. He then touched a large skull of bronze that
+grinned hideously on it; it instantly flew open, and he stood before a
+tall, and full armed sentinel, who, immovable as a statue, looked him
+fiercely in the eyes.
+
+The officer, without uttering a word, presented the index finger of his
+left hand, on which there was a large ring, the sentinel quietly stepped
+aside, and he passed.
+
+He made a few steps, and from another niche in the passage another
+sentinel presented himself, he showed the ring again and passed; he went
+further forward, and was again met by another sentinel, he performed the
+same ceremony, and he was also permitted to pass. He went on and met
+several others, on whom the ring had the same effect; at last, he arrived
+at a sort of antichamber, where two black boys, in gorgeous attire, were
+waiting.
+
+They immediately bent their bodies to Lorenzo as he advanced, and then
+stood ready to answer him any question he should ask.
+
+“Is your master at leisure, Bembo?” asked Lorenzo.
+
+“He is, senor,” answered one of the boys.
+
+“Say I am here, and desire audience.”
+
+The boy bent his body again and retired.
+
+He immediately returned, and informed the officer that his master desired
+him to enter, and conducted him to a door.
+
+The officer pressed a skull similar to that with which the reader has
+already been made acquainted; the door flew open, and he stood in a
+magnificent apartment, with a young man before him.
+
+The apartment into which Lorenzo had entered, was vast and magnificent
+in its proportions; it was formed of the whole of the after part of
+the schooner, and of its entire width. It was richly though peculiarly
+decorated: the sides, unlike the plain wainscoating of ships in general,
+were made of the richest and most exquisitely polished mahogany, upon
+which were elaborately carved landscapes, in which nature was represented
+principally in her most terrible aspect,—with volcanoes belching forth
+their liquid fires; cataracts eating away in their angry mood the rugged
+granite, over whose uneven brows they were foamingly precipitated;
+inhospitable mountains frowning on the solitary waves below, that
+unheedingly lashed their base; chasms that yawned as terrific as the
+cataclasm that might be supposed to have formed them, and other subjects
+which blended the magnificent with the terribly sublime.
+
+The precious metals were freely used to mark the shades and other points
+in these highly wrought carvings, so that the fire which the volcanoes
+sent forth was cleverly represented by gold, the water by silver, and so
+forth.
+
+Large beads of gold surrounded each tableau, and separated it from the
+next. On the skirting-boards at the lower parts were carved palezotic
+creatures, that held between their extended jaws large richly bound
+volumes, which were secured by springs against the rolling of the vessel.
+
+The ceiling was decorated in the same peculiar manner: the two sides
+of the celestial sphere were distinctly represented, with the signs
+of the zodiac and the constellations finished in a perfect style, and
+scrupulously placed at the correct distances from each other.
+
+The furniture was in exact keeping with this rich, though strange style
+of decoration. Soft and velvetty carpets covered the floor, or rather
+the deck; fanciful ottomans, made in the shape of gigantic sea shells,
+covered with crimson velvet, and decorated with pure and solid gold,
+were placed here and there. Immense globes of the earth and the heavens,
+mathematical instruments of the largest size were carefully arranged,
+and so effectually secured in their position, that they could not be
+affected by the tossing of the schooner. But what was particularly
+calculated to attract attention among these various things was a gigantic
+telescope, whose principal parts stood on a magnificent frame. More
+than ordinary care seemed to be devoted to this instrument, both to
+its construction and to its preservation, for everything about it was
+exquisitely made and polished.
+
+The young man who stood before Lorenzo, may have been about twenty-five
+years of age: he was tall and slender, but infinitely well formed; his
+limbs were beautifully proportioned and straight, and his hands were
+almost femininely delicate, notwithstanding the close construction of the
+bones, and the hard, wiry sinews, which could be barely seen, now and
+then slightly swelling the skin.
+
+His complexion was of a very light olive, it showed a mixture of blood,
+and proclaimed that the man was connected with some dark race, and in the
+infinity of grades in the population of Spanish America, he may have been
+said to be of that which is commonly designated Quadroon.
+
+But the features of this femininely formed man were in deep contrast with
+his make; they were handsome to the extreme; but there was something
+in his large tropical eyes that seemed to possess the power of the
+basilisk, and made it difficult to be supposed that any man could meet
+their glance without feeling it.
+
+This expression was increased by his lowering brows that overshadowed his
+eyes, and indicated, at once, an individual of much resolution; while his
+high aquiline nose, compressed lips, and set jaws, pointed clearly to a
+disposition that would undertake the most arduous and hazardous things,
+and execute them with firmness in spite of perils.
+
+In brief, the most superficial observer might have read, in the face of
+that young man, the existence of something within, which was endowed with
+the power of controlling the most headstrong and refractory,—of quelling
+the most rebellious spirits.
+
+It required not the discoveries of science to convince men, at a glance
+of his features, that there was a power in that mind which was reflected
+on his face, that wherever he was he would be by the necessity of his own
+mind—pre-eminent and uppermost; that men must, unknowingly to themselves,
+obey him, and act as he acted.
+
+In addition to those animal attributes, the shape of his head was
+what the most fastidious could but admire; his forehead rose in the
+fullness of beautiful proportions, while, at the same time, those
+skilled in reading others’ sculls would have declared that, with his
+high intellectual development, he did not lack those necessary moral
+accompaniments which the Creator, in his wisdom, has providently bestowed
+for the proper use and regulation of the former.
+
+Withal, however, there might be discerned in the lofty bearing and
+haughty mein of the young man a stern and invincible pride.
+
+The dress of our young hero was simple; he wore trowsers of the finest
+and whitest materials, and a Moorish jacket of crimson silk, with large
+and ample sleeves; round his waist was folded a red silk sash, in which
+a gilded poniard and pistols mounted with gold, were stuck; his head was
+uncovered, and his black raven locks flowed over his shoulders in wild
+and unrestrained profusion.
+
+When Lorenzo entered the cabin the young man was standing by a table, on
+which lay open a richly ornamented volume of “Bacon’s Novum Organum,”
+with the books of “Aristotle’s Philosophy” by its side.
+
+It was evident that he was making his morning meditation on those learned
+tomes.
+
+When Lorenzo entered the cabin he bowed profoundly.
+
+“Good morning, Lorenzo,” said the young man, still maintaining his high
+posture, and pointed an ottoman to the visitor.
+
+“Well, how have you fared?” he inquired.
+
+“Well, your excellency,” answered the officer, “I have captured a
+fisherman with his two men, whom I have brought on board for your
+especial examination. I made my observations during the time that my men
+were resting, and have to report, that there are several deeply laden
+ships in the harbour, which, from all appearances, are ready for sea, and
+will sail within a few days. There seem to be prospects of a rich booty,
+with very little work for our men. There are no ships of war in the
+harbour. I have taken the marks and sizes of the vessels, which you will
+find on this paper, so that the fisherman may be accurately questioned.
+The ship, about which your excellency especially instructed me, is also
+in the harbour.” Then, with a low bow, Lorenzo handed a paper to the
+young man.
+
+“You have done well, Lorenzo,” the latter said, and glanced over the
+paper for a short time, and, apparently, possessing himself of the
+information it contained, laid it by.
+
+“Let your fisherman be brought, Lorenzo.”
+
+The officer left the apartment for a time and returned, shortly
+afterwards, with the fisherman.
+
+The fisherman appeared bewildered by the grandeur of the place, and could
+scarcely restrain his eyes from wandering distractedly about.
+
+The captain, after affording him some time to regain himself, requested
+him to dismiss his fears, and assured him that no harm should be done him
+if he spoke the truth, and began to interrogate him.
+
+“You know the Harbour of Port of Spain, do you not?”
+
+“I do, senor,” replied the fisherman, “I fish in it every day.”
+
+“Do you know the ships that are there now?”
+
+“Senor, I do not know their names, but I know they are nearly all
+English.”
+
+“Do you know the large ship that is anchored opposite the banks of the
+Caroni?”
+
+“Senor, as I have said before, not its name; but I know that it belongs
+to a rich English merchant, and is laden with sugar for Bristol.”
+
+“Do you know when she is to sail?”
+
+“Senor,” answered the fisherman, “not positively, but, from her
+appearance, I should say she will sail in a day or two.”
+
+The young man proceeded in this manner and examined the fisherman about
+all the vessels which were reported in Lorenzo’s paper to be in the
+harbour, but without, at the same time, receiving any more definite
+information.
+
+After the questioning was ended, he requested the fisherman to be
+re-assured, and to fear nothing; he then pressed a spring at his feet,
+and one of the black boys appeared.
+
+“Show this man on deck,” said the captain. The fishermen was shown on
+deck, where the sentinel duly received him.
+
+“Lorenzo,” said the young man, “by the chart of this island, and, from my
+own experience, I know that there are only two outlets from this gulf—the
+Serpent’s and the Dragon’s Mouth. Ships but seldom go through the
+Serpent’s Mouth, both, on account of its narrowness, and its distance out
+of the course of those that may be bound for England. It is, therefore,
+my opinion that the ships, which are now about to sail, will pass by the
+Dragon’s Mouth; that passage is fifty miles to the north of this. It is
+my will that five men be sent with this fisherman of yours, to watch the
+sailing of the ships: go you, therefore, bear the token, and request the
+officer of the watch to attend to this order. When this is done, come you
+hither and let me know. It is my will to let the men have pleasure to-day
+as they may have work shortly.”
+
+Lorenzo bowed and retired: he shortly returned and informed the
+captain—as the reader must have already discovered him to be—that his
+order was executed. The captain asked no further questions, but, perhaps
+from the habit of being always strictly and implicitly obeyed, he never
+doubted but that things were done as he wished. Such, too, was the
+discipline that seemed to reign on board of the schooner, that scarcely
+five minutes elapsed before preparations were made, and a boat, with
+the fisherman, among others, was duly dispatched to do as the captain
+commanded.
+
+When the captain was informed that his orders were executed, he pressed
+again the spring and the boy appeared.
+
+“Sound the gong,” he said: the boy bowed and retired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+    “See it be done, and feast our army, we have store to do it—
+    And they have earned the waste.”
+
+                                          ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA.
+
+
+No sooner had the captain given the order, than the whole schooner echoed
+with the deafening sounds of a huge gong, whose noise was sufficient to
+rouse the soundest sleeper in the lowest recesses of the schooner.
+
+The sounds seemed to possess the power of transforming the vessel,
+where such quiet and silence a little before had reigned, to a scene of
+unbounded revelry. No sooner had they fallen on the ears of the grim and
+bearded sailors, than shouts of joy and mirth burst forth from the same
+men, who, but a short time before seemed pressed by a paralizing power
+into discipline, order, and the silence of death.
+
+The deck then suddenly became a scene of the liveliest animation; small
+groups of men settled themselves here and there, some to sing, others to
+dance, and others again preferring less boisterous amusement, to listen
+to the long stories of some weather-beaten son of Neptune.
+
+The jolly songs of all nations, as sung by the different denizens that
+formed the motley crew of the schooner, rose upon the bosom of the silent
+gulf. The Spaniard sang his animated oroco songs; the Llanero, who had
+been seduced away from his native plains to seek as arduous an existence
+on the boisterous element, chanted the pastoral ditties with which he was
+accustomed to break the monotony of many a live-long night on the lonely
+Savanahs of South America; the Frenchman rattled over his lively airs,
+and the jolly choruses of merry England, too, were not unheard on board
+of the Black Schooner.
+
+The guitar here and there stimulated the Terpsichorean powers of some
+heavy sailor, and the schooner rang with the merry laugh of those who
+listened to the jokes of some funny old tar. Nor were the joys of
+drinking unfelt. Every sailor had his drinking can by his side, and
+contentment might have been read on the rigid features of every one as he
+quaffed the stimulating liquor.
+
+One of the chief subjects of attraction seemed to be an old sailor, whose
+features proclaimed him a son of distant England, while a deep scar on
+his forehead, and the brown-baked hue of his face, pointed him out as
+one who had seen service. He was entertaining those around him with some
+of his adventures, and was, at the same time, speaking in his native
+language, which was understood by his hearers. Few, indeed, were the
+tongues that those men did not know; the wheel of fortune had turned them
+round and round in their day, and had cast them into many a different
+place, and there was scarcely a country in the world to which their
+pursuits had not taken them.
+
+“Yes, by G—d,” the old sailor was saying, “that ere Llononois was the
+very devil. I remember when he took Maracaybo,—a devil of a fight that
+was, and no mistake,—three nights in the swamps without bread or grog;
+I remember when we took that place, there was a poor sinner that we
+suspected had some dibs. The commodore seized him—devil of a man he
+was—‘Where have you buried your money?’ Says he—says he—the sinner, I
+mean, ‘I have no money,’ says he. Says the commodore, says he, ‘you
+lie, you rascal, and I will make you show me the coffers!’ He took the
+lubber—by G—d I’ll never forget that day—not I: he took the lubber
+and tied a line round his head, just as if he would season his head—as
+I would the main-shrouds—he tied the line round his head, and took a
+hitch in it with a marlin-spike, and twisted the line until you would
+ha’ swore it would cut the lubber’s head in two. The sinner sang out
+murder, but the commodore twisted the more, and asked him for the dibs.
+He said he had’nt any. ‘Have’nt any, you rascal?’ cried the commodore,
+in a fury, and twisted the line tighter and tighter, until the eyeballs
+of the lubber swelled like a rat in a barrel of pork. Lord! I never seed
+the like—and Jim Splice has seen many things, too, I can tell you—but he
+still said he had no money. At last the commodore got angry—a terrible
+man he was when he was not, leave alone when he was—‘Where is your
+money?’ he cried, more like a devil than a man. ‘I hav’nt any,’ the poor
+man cried, but that would’nt do: the commodore took his sword, opened the
+poor fellow’s breast, tore out his heart, and bit it, telling the other
+Spaniards he would serve them just in the same way if they did not give
+him all the money they had. By G—d, I’ll never forget that, anyhow! I
+never seed human flesh eaten afore that—Jim Splice never did—it was too
+much for me, hearch!” and the old sailor made a hideous grimace. “Yes: I
+was’nt much longer with that ere Llononois after that, I know. He was
+a brave man, though, after all, but nothing like our captain. There was
+a black day for him, however, ay, ay: that ere gentleman aloft keeps a
+good watch, I know, and he kept a sharp look out on that ere Llononois
+especially, and had the windward of him in no time. The unfortunate man
+was cast away afterwards among the same Spaniards, whose hearts he said
+he would eat, and had to skulk in the woods where he shortly afterwards
+died of starvation: by G—d, yes, of starvation.”
+
+“And serve him right, too,” the sailors unanimously cried, “what was the
+use of killing a poor brute when he could get nothing out of him?”
+
+With such anecdotes as this Jim Splice diverted his companions. But there
+was on board of the schooner that day another subject, which contributed
+largely to the merriment of the sailors. This was no less a personage
+than Jack Jimmy. After the examination of the master fisherman, he,
+together with his companions, had been released from the custody under
+which they had at first been placed on their arrival on board of the
+schooner, and after having been admonished that if he threw himself
+overboard again, as he had once done from the fishing-boat, he would be
+quietly permitted to be drowned, he was left at full liberty to range the
+deck at large. When, however, the revelry began, still feeling strange,
+and fearing lest he should be in the way of the men, he had carefully
+rolled himself up at the foot of the mainmast, with his head supported
+by both his hands; and his eyes, the white parts of which could be seen
+at an extraordinary distance, eagerly fixed on the movements of the
+sailors. He had sat for a considerable time quiet and unobserved, merely
+giving vent now and then to his wonder, when that was heightened by any
+astonishing event in the day’s amusement, by a laconic—“Awh! wha dish ya
+Baccra debble foo true—Garamighty! look pan dem!”
+
+When, however, the other things which had afforded amusement to the
+sailors, began to pall; when the dancing had become fatiguing, the songs
+had been exhausted, and Jim Splice’s stories had lost part of their
+attraction, the sailors began to look about for other excitement. It
+was at this moment, an unhappy one for him, that their eyes fell on
+the unfortunate Jack Jimmy: he was observed in his crouching position,
+where it was difficult to distinguish him from the ideal of a rolled up
+ouran-outan.
+
+Struck with the peculiar comicality of the exhibition, the first sailor
+that remarked him burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter, and then
+touched his neighbour and pointed him out; the next did the same to his
+companion, until all eyes were fixed on Jack Jimmy.
+
+“What have we here?” cried a maudlin young sailor, as he stood up and ran
+towards the object of attraction the others immediately followed.
+
+“Let us see what is in that fellow, mates.”
+
+“Ho, the little prisoner!” rang among the merry men.
+
+Three or four of them immediately tapped him on the head jocosely, and
+asked him to sing: Jack Jimmy trembling with fear, opened his eyes and
+mouth at once, “Massa, me no sabee sing,” he replied.
+
+“Come, old boy! stand up—you must sing,” said one of them, and they
+pulled up poor Jack Jimmy from his recumbent position.
+
+If the appearance of the little man was calculated to raise laughter when
+he was crouching, it was much more so when he was standing up; and really
+there was something in him peculiarly comical. He was a little man of
+about four feet and a half, thickly set, and strong; his face was rounded
+at the mouth, and his long bony jaws projected to an extraordinary length
+in front. He seemed to have no brow, there was no distinction between
+his face and forehead; his huge large eyes looked like balls inserted
+into two large holes, bored on an even surface, while what was intended
+for a nose, was miserably abbreviated and flat, added the culminating
+point to an ugliness which was almost unique. To crown this extraordinary
+combination, a short crop of scattered hair grew on the top of his head,
+while the other parts were bare and shining, and now stained a dirty
+white with water.
+
+Nature did not seem to have been generous enough to accord to him one
+single redeeming point; his head was joined by a short neck to square
+heavy shoulders, that rose about the ears of the little man; his legs
+were of the same shapeless proportions, and terminated at the base in
+large lumps of flesh, which seen unconnectedly with their appurtenant
+limbs, would scarcely have been taken for feet, if the short, chubby, and
+creasing toes, that were fixed to them, had not indicated their nature.
+To add more to this already ridiculous figure, the circumstance of dress
+was called in requisition. Jack Jimmy was clad in a dirty, ragged,
+checked shirt; with lower coverings that were once brown, but which were
+now of an obscure tawny color, acquired from the many incrustations of
+dirt that had been permitted to be formed upon them. The sleeves of the
+shirt were tucked up in a roll which seemed to have become perpetual from
+the smooth waxing which friction had imparted to it. The tawny trousers
+were done up in like manner; and on the lower exposed parts of the limbs,
+might be traced on the black skin, the embedded salt which had settled
+there while the water trickled down after the plunge of the preceding day.
+
+All these peculiarities, set forth in active prominence by the fear and
+excitement of the present moment, were quite sufficient to overcome the
+gravity of more serious men than those who happened, at that time, to be
+at the height of their merriment.
+
+“Garamighty, massa! me tell you me no sabee sing.”
+
+“Well, you can dance, then;” and one of the sailors took a sword, and
+made so dexterously at the short legs of the little man, that, to protect
+those members, he began to jump about like a dancing puppet—to the
+infinite gratification of the sailors, who roared with laughter. This
+sport, however, soon ended.
+
+“Hark ye!” said a sailor: “Sambo, if you can’t sing, you must submit to a
+penalty—bring up the old jib, Domingo,” he added to one of his mates, “or
+a blanket.”
+
+“Yes, blanket him, ha! ha! ha!” cried all the men, “blanket him, ha! ha!
+ha!”
+
+With the alacrity that sport alone can give, the sailors immediately
+brought a sail, into which they lifted the unfortunate Jack Jimmy, who,
+stupid with fear, all the while was crying—“Tap, massa—Garamighty!—you
+go kill me,—oh, Lard!—my mamee, oh!”
+
+They raised him on the sail, and began to balance him about, but Jack
+Jimmy, in the extremity of his fear, apprehending that they were going to
+do something dreadful to him, took a leap to get out of the sail, and in
+doing so, was pitched flat on the deck.
+
+He stretched himself out two or three times, feigning the last
+convulsions of death, and lay at his length with his eyes tightly closed.
+The sailors laughed; and, seeing clearly, from the heavings of his
+chest, that he was not so dead as he pretended to be, began to roll him
+violently about, as they said, in keeping with his own feint, to bring
+back life. But Jack Jimmy played his part well, and would neither open
+his eyes, nor show any other sign of existence.
+
+At last, one of the sailors said, aloud—“I know what will bring back the
+poor fellow: yes, it would be a pity to let him die so; Jack, lend me
+your cigar.” Jack lent his cigar, and the sailor applied the lighted part
+to the thick great toe of the would-be defunct. He, however, would not
+move, but the sailor was persevering; Jack Jimmy remained quiet until
+the fire had fairly burnt through the thick skin, and had touched the
+more tender parts; when he felt it he was no longer dead; he sprang
+up briskly, on his resting part, and, catching hold of the toe, rubbed
+it with all his might, while he cried out—“Gad, Lard! me dead foo
+true;—wy—ee bun me foo true—Garamighty!”
+
+The merriment of the sailors was extreme; the schooner rang with their
+protracted peals of laughter. But while they were thus at the height
+of their pleasure, the shrill sounds of a fife pierced the vessel; and
+as if it were the death time of mirth and joviality; it was succeeded
+by a silence, which can be imagined only, where pestilence has ravaged
+a population, and has left its gloom, even on the sickly trees and
+rocks that lay in its devastating traces. It settled itself like a
+fear-inspiring genius where, but a moment before, was naught but
+boisterous mirth; the hour of pleasure was passed, that of discipline and
+order had returned. One by one the sailors retired to their quarters,
+lifting bodily, along with them, such of their companions as had indulged
+too extravagantly in the delights of drinking.
+
+To a stranger, the change was extraordinary. It would have been hard
+to believe, unless one had been convinced by the testimony of his own
+eyes, that there was a power so infinitely strong, as to control those,
+apparently lawless men, in the height of their self-willed pleasure;
+especially, when their spirits were heated with strong drinks, and the
+fierce propensities of their nature, were roused to a point when it was
+difficult to restrain them; but such there appeared to be. What was the
+spring, what the source, what the origin of that extraordinary power?
+What had the man done, young, as he seemed to be; and solitary, as he
+appeared, among so many stronger men, to enable him thus powerfully to
+impose the bonds of discipline, to recall and to sway a number of such
+men in the midst of their boisterous enjoyment? Was it the recollection
+of some dreadful deed of firmness, still fresh in the minds and hearts
+of those stern weather-beaten sailors, that sustained this fear of their
+youthful captain, or was it the mysterious influence of a curbing and
+omnipotent mind that chained them to its volition, it is not our part to
+inquire; suffice it to say, whatever the power, or however acquired, it
+existed, and that it was strong enough to drive back the sailors of the
+black schooner to the habitual discipline and order that reigned on its
+board.
+
+The night was far advanced when the boat, which had been sent on the
+watching trip, returned.
+
+Lorenzo was immediately informed that a large ship, deeply laden, had
+passed the “Boca del Drago.”
+
+“Well,” said the officer, to the man who reported these tidings, “you
+have done your duty faithfully, but you have lost this day’s pleasure;
+mark it down and the captain will not forget it. Get you to your
+quarters, and to-morrow be early in my cabin—you may have to appear
+before his excellency.”
+
+The man made a bow and retired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+    “——Like lions wanting food,
+    Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.”
+
+                                HENRY VI.
+
+
+Morning, beautiful and clear, such as it is only in the transparent
+regions of the tropics, had just come, when, in obedience to the order
+of the preceding night, the sailor returned to the cabin of Lorenzo.
+There he was subjected to a more particular examination than the leisure
+of the foregone night permitted, and he detailed, with accuracy, the
+various little incidents which had befallen him since he started from the
+schooner on his commission.
+
+“The ship,” he said, “is very large, and seems to be well manned.
+There were several persons on board, who appeared to be passengers. We
+pretended to be fishing, and we pulled backwards and forwards under her
+stern as she was sailing slowly before the light wind, so that we had an
+opportunity of observing her closely, and of seeing that on her stern
+was marked the ‘Letitia’ of Bristol.”
+
+“The ‘Letitia,’” repeated Lorenzo, and a gloom passed over his
+countenance, as he remained for a minute or two absorbed by some
+devouring thought.
+
+“Did she seem to sail well?” at length, he asked.
+
+“Senor, the wind was light, and we could not judge of that; but, from her
+build, I think she would be a clipper,” answered the man.
+
+After Lorenzo had put some other questions to the sailor he dismissed
+him, and requested that the master-fisherman should be immediately
+brought. The latter was, in a short time, conducted to the officer’s
+cabin, where he was interrogated in the same manner. The fisherman said
+it was the large ship which appertained to the rich English merchant,
+and of which he had already given information to the captain. The
+officer dismissed him also, and sought, at once, the captain’s cabin.
+He communicated the report of the party, and in answer was ordered to
+go on deck, immediately, and get ready to set sail. When Lorenzo was
+detailing to his chief the report of the reconnoitring party, the deepest
+physiognomist would not have been able to discover a wrinkle or a mark
+in the face of the young man, or to perceive the slightest change in his
+dark eyes that could indicate the existence of any particular feeling
+within. He sat like a statue, as silent and as still, with his piercing
+eyes fixed on the pupils of the narrator’s, who, from time to time, was
+obliged to look down in order to relieve himself of the torture in which
+he was kept by the eagle glance of his chief. But when Lorenzo arrived
+at the part of the report in which the description of the vessel was
+made, and the name “Letitia” was mentioned, there might be traced around
+his lips the rudiments of a sardonic smile of triumph—something like
+the flash of a ponderous cannon when a match is applied in the darkness
+of night, that dazzles for a moment, and then suddenly dies away in the
+thick enshrouding smoke that darkly typifies the terrible gloom of the
+destruction which springs from its midst.
+
+Having heard the report of his officer, the captain ordered him to
+proceed, at once, on deck, and get ready to set sail. The officer bowed
+and retired.
+
+When Lorenzo had quitted the cabin, the captain remained sitting in the
+same position in which he had received the report, and appeared occupied
+by some preying thought.
+
+“Yes,” he muttered, “‘Letitia,’ that is the name: he goes in it. Speed
+well my purpose!”
+
+The preparations on board the schooner did not require much time to be
+completed, and, in a few moments, the captain himself made his appearance
+on deck. It would appear, that except when the schooner was under
+weigh, he never showed himself to his crew. Like the priests of yore,
+who swayed mankind, he was no doubt apprehensive, that if he exhibited
+himself too frequently to vulgar view, the sailors, in getting familiar
+with his person, should lose much of the veneration and awe which they
+unquestionably entertained for him, and which seemed to crush their wills
+to an implicit and blind obedience to his.
+
+When he appeared on deck, he was attired in quite a different fashion to
+the one in which he was seen in his cabin. He wore black trowsers, with
+broad stripes of gold on the sides, and a black frock coat, simply but
+richly ornamented with embroidery of the same precious metal. The red
+sash, as usual, was folded round his waist, and supported the pistols and
+poniard; his head was crowned with a flaming cap, in the front of which
+was wrought the death’s head and dead men’s bones; while, in addition to
+these things, a beautiful sword, with gold mountings, hung by his side.
+
+“Weigh,” he said, to the officer on duty, as his foot touched the deck;
+the vessel was immediately put under sail. The light breeze of the
+morning filled her well-trimmed canvass, and like a creature of life
+and grace the Black Schooner began to cut through the water. Scarcely a
+ripple marked where her sharp keel passed, as she moved gracefully over
+the quiet waters of the gulf.
+
+The hills of the Bocas gradually arose more and more distinctly before
+her, as she quickly approached them. No scene perhaps in nature is more
+beautiful than the one which presents itself to the mariner as he sails
+through the narrow strait that affords a northern passage from the Gulf
+of Paria.
+
+Standing in the midst of the clearest waters that bathe in graceful
+ripplings their luxuriant base, are clusters of small islands that are
+carpeted to the very beach with fresh and never fading verdure. Like a
+scene in a panorama, or like the trembling shadows which a tropical moon
+casts over the silent lake or placid stream, those islands seem balancing
+over a crystal surface, that shines and sends forth a thousand undulating
+reflections under the pure and clear rays of an undarkened tropical sun:
+or, as they recede to the eye, in proportion to the progress of the
+vessel, imagination might convert them into the terrestrial realities of
+those variegated spots which the musing poet is fond to contemplate, to
+follow in their course, to speculate and dream upon, in the transparent
+and lulling pureness of a summer sky. Above these are seen the
+blossoming coral-trees with their scarlet flowers, that chequer the
+densely wooded hills, and stand amidst the dense foliage that surrounds
+them, marked and conspicuous like thousands of growing wreaths, that
+administering nymphs eternally offer to tropical nature in gratitude for
+her marvellous and beautiful works.
+
+Over the shining waters themselves that lave these hills and fairy isles,
+are seen the long-necked pelican, in its shadowy flight, or its fierce
+headlong plunge after its watery prey; the spiry smoke, as it ascends
+from some reed-constructed cottage on the shore; the feathery canoe of
+some solitary fisherman, playing, like a child of the element, on the
+beautiful sea; the crooked creeks and receding bays that conjure up
+thoughts of lurking pirates; the sullen growling of the ocean, in long,
+high, and heaving swells, as it rolls on the ocean-side: all these mark
+the entrance of the Boca with the boldest and most beautiful features of
+natural beauty that fancy, in her wildest reveries, can draw and paint;
+while the gloomily ascending mountains of Paria, on the left side, with
+their precipitous falls, to be seen far, far away;—mountains, that stand
+dark and dismal like sulky lions on the crouch, and seem ready to fall—to
+fill up the narrow straits below, and to bury, far beneath their weight,
+the frail structure of fragile wood that intrudes with its rash and
+venturesome burdens into the very shadow of their black brow, tend to add
+to the scene a solemn and terrifying effect.
+
+The black schooner glided through the narrow outlet, and rose outside on
+the boisterous billows of the Atlantic.
+
+The captain paced the deck in deep reflection. His dark eyebrows
+completely hid his eyes, which remained fixed on the deck. Their long
+and silken lashes swept the handsome young man’s cheeks, his lips were
+compressed, and his black mustachios imparted a still sterner, and
+more terrible appearance to his face. He wore the aspect of one whose
+resolution was taken to do a desperate deed, and whose nature still
+refused consent and revolted at the thought, like him who sacrifices to
+principle, and is doomed to drain a cup that makes humanity shudder.
+
+He had directed the schooner to be steered in the course which the ships
+bound for England generally take, and men were stationed on her tall
+and raking masts to keep watch. The day passed: night came; still the
+schooner held her course, and silence reigned on board. Not a sound
+was heard, save when the shrill pipe called to duty, or told the hour.
+The next day came, and with it the order to prepare for fight, still
+there was no vessel in sight. But the captain was not one to give orders
+in vain. He knew his vessel, he knew the currents, and could tell the
+precise hour when he would overtake a vessel of whose departure he was
+apprized.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The sun was just sinking in the horizon, when the man aloft cried out—
+
+“Sail, ho!—to leeward.”
+
+The captain stopped, and ordered his telescope; with that he discerned a
+speck in the distance, but far away.
+
+“Keep her away,” he cried, to the man who was steering:—“ease your jib,
+foresail, and mainsail sheets, Gregoire;”—to the officer on duty; and the
+schooner edged off.
+
+She sailed so fast that by midnight she was near the object that had
+appeared in the horizon, and which was now found to be a large ship
+gallantly careering over the ocean. Her white canvass shone in the
+moonlight, and the foam that gathered at her bows was brilliant with the
+phosphorescence of the Caribean Sea.
+
+“Take in the fore-sail,” the captain cried; and that sail was immediately
+lowered.
+
+The sailors were now all armed with pistols, poniards, and boarding
+pikes. As they stood grimly gazing on the ship before them, their black
+beards, red caps, and weapons, looked terribly dreadful, and the idea of
+some bloody deed could not but be suggested by their appearance.
+
+The fife sounded a peculiar note, and all the sailors gathered at
+the foot of the schooner’s mainmast. Here may have been heard the
+low whisperings of comrade to comrade: there may have been seen the
+fierce eyes of some, flashing, as it were, in anticipation of something
+congenial. Some may have been observed to stroke their raven beards as if
+out of patience; others, leaned carelessly on their pikes. When they had
+properly formed, the captain stopped in his nervous walk, and, drawing
+himself up to the full height of his lofty and commanding person, said:—
+
+“Associates, you have now another opportunity to revenge yourselves on
+the world. There,” and he pointed to the ship, “there you have the wealth
+of some trader, that has neither capacity to enjoy it, nor heart to use
+it. Remember how frequently you have wanted the morsel which he could so
+easily have spared, but which you never found. Remember your wrongs and
+now redress them; take what the world would not afford you. By the dawn
+of day we shall attack that ship. I expect nothing less than that which
+I have always found in you, give but your valour, and you shall have the
+booty—the reward of bravery. Go, rest yourselves until the morning.”
+
+This short speech, he spoke in a clear, deep, and sonorous voice; while
+the features of the speaker seemed more eloquent than his tongue. The
+bitterest hatred curled his lip, when he delivered the first part, and
+animation glowed on his countenance, when he spoke of the bravery of his
+men.
+
+“Bravo! bravo!” broke out in loud and deep echoes from the assembled
+crew. The sailors, one by one, returned to the foremost part of the
+vessel, not without having first cast an inquiring glance at the ship
+before them. Some betook themselves to their hammocks, and others sat
+together smoking their cigars and conversing, in a low tone, on the
+probable events of the approaching morning.
+
+The night waned: and, at last, morning came.
+
+The captain, who, after he had addressed his men, had given orders to the
+officer of the watch to keep the ship always in sight, but by no means to
+approach her more closely, had descended into his cabin, now re-appeared
+on deck. He walked up to the helm, looked first at the compass, and then
+at the ship that was still a-head of the schooner. The ship appeared now
+in all her greatness. She was a large merchant-man, apparently, deeply
+laden, but by no means an indifferent sailer.
+
+“Hoist the foresail,” the captain said, and the sail was again put on the
+vessel, that seemed to feel it, for she now leapt over the waves like a
+snake on whose tail some passer-by had accidentally trodden.
+
+“To your posts, my men,” the captain again said, and the shrill fife
+re-echoed his command.
+
+With the silence of death every man took his station, every gun was
+manned, every halliard was attended to, while the sides of the deck
+were immediately lined with men, who were armed with pikes and axes in
+addition to their pistols and poniards.
+
+It is difficult to imagine the rapidity and calmness with which these
+preparations were made. We must call to the assistance of our memory
+the movements of beautifully adjusted machines as they perform their
+parts, to form an adequate idea of the promptness and ease with which the
+hundreds of men on board the Black Schooner, executed their captain’s
+order.
+
+The schooner now drew rapidly on the ship: she was light, and was a fast
+sailer, and fully felt the light breeze which was blowing at that early
+part of the morning. Not so with the ship pursued: deeply laden, and
+comparatively heavy, the light air had scarcely any effect upon her, and
+she was moving along but tardily. When the schooner had arrived within
+gun-shot from the ship, at the captain’s order, a gun was fired, and the
+broad black ensign, with the frightful device of death, ran along the
+signal-line.
+
+The shot boomed athwart the ship’s bows, but she paid no attention to the
+signal; on the contrary, additional sails were immediately hoisted, and
+the vessel was kept freer from the wind. But the schooner still gained
+upon her.
+
+The report of another cannon, from her side, echoed over the waters:
+still the ship kept her course. The captain spoke not a word, but looked
+with haughty calmness on the large vessel, as he stood lofty and erect
+on the deck, with his arms crossed over his breast. “Launch and man the
+boats,” he said, after a long space of time had been permitted to escape;
+a loud cheer, which they could no longer suppress, burst forth from the
+men. More quickly than we can describe, the hatches were raised, and two
+boats were immediately hoisted out into the water; twenty men cheerfully
+jumped into each, and stood ready for the order to shove off.
+
+The boats were towed at the sides until the captain’s voice was
+heard—“Shove off and board,” he cried, in the same composed and stern
+manner. A loud cheer from the sailors in the boats, and their comrades
+on deck, echoed the order. The boats leapt over the long waves under the
+vigorous efforts of the men. They approached the ship. They stood up,
+pike in hand, ready to climb its sides.
+
+“Pull, my men,” cried the officer in command, “we take her at once:”
+a flash was seen on the ship’s deck, a loud report was heard, and, as
+the smoke ascended, the shattered remnant of the first boat were seen
+floating here and there, and those who had been in it, and, a moment
+before, had longed so eagerly for battle, were scattered about on the
+water dead and horribly mutilated.
+
+The discharge from the ship told with a fatal exactness: the gun, it
+would appear, had been loaded with pieces of old iron, nails, and
+everything destructive that could be found; and the charge swept away men
+and boat with a dreadful crash.
+
+“Lay on your oars, my mates,” cried the officer of the second boat,
+fierce with anger at the destruction of his comrades: and in a few
+seconds she was alongside the ship.
+
+“Board, board,”—quicker than thought the assailants climbed the sides of
+the merchantman, but not to land on deck: a dreadful conflict ensued.
+The men of the ship resisted valiantly, like those who knew they were
+fighting for their lives: the foremost assailants were dashed into the
+deep. They slashed at each other—attacking and attacked. The assailants
+handled their pikes with fierce and unbreathing vigour, but they seemed
+to make but little head against the men of the ship. Here and there
+a boarder was to be seen, to hang to the ship for a moment in his
+death-grasp, while blood and brain gushed from his cloven head to balance
+a moment in mid-air, and then fall heavily into the sea.
+
+“Hurrah! hurrah!”—the cries of victory rose on board the British
+vessel, as assailant after assailant was precipitated into the deep,
+or sunk under the blows of the men on deck. Now the survivors rushed,
+for security, into the shrouds; now they clung to the ropes with teeth
+and feet, while, with their pikes, they kept at bay the opponents on
+deck. Like famished tigers, that would have their morsel or die, they
+fought, falling, dying, and almost dead: no shout, no word escaped
+them, but they did their work in terrible silence. On, on, the English
+sailors pressed. The shout of victory again rose; but three of the
+assistants remained—they were partly sheltered in the chains, and fierce
+as leopards at bay, they felled all that dared approach them; their
+companions were all cut down or driven over board; perspiration ran down
+their brawny breasts; blood and foam bubbled from their mouths; and, with
+eyes as dry and lurid as the famished Panther, they slashed at their
+hard pressing opponents. Suddenly a loud cheer was heard; it rang over
+the ocean like the roar of a distant cataract; the still resisting three
+heard it: a hoarse cry came from their parched and husky throats.
+
+“The ‘Periagua,’”[1] one of them cried, and a long canoe-like boat was
+seen rapidly approaching from the schooner.
+
+    [1] _See_ Appendix A.
+
+    [Transcriber’s Note: There isn’t an Appendix A, either in this
+    volume or in Volume 2. The term ‘periagua’ was originally
+    used to describe the long, narrow dugout canoes used in the
+    Caribbean and in Central and South America. By the date of
+    this book, it was also applied to small, flat-bottomed sailing
+    vessels.]
+
+The captain of the schooner himself stood in the stern, cool and
+collected, with determination marked on every feature. The boat
+approached nearer and nearer—two strokes more, and she was alongside.
+
+“Now save yourselves or perish:” so saying, the captain drew a plug from
+the bottom—the water gushed in—the boat began to sink; with the courage
+of desperation, the pirates sprang on to the sides of the vessel. Their
+swords glittered in the air, their pikes were worked with the rapidity
+of lightning, the shouts of the attacked, the yells of the pirates, the
+splash of the killed, as they fell headlong into the deep, rose wild and
+appalling on the ear.
+
+The men of the ship received this new attack with firmness: but they had
+already fought long; they began to yield; their blows fell less rapidly.
+
+“On—on!” cried the captain, and in a moment he himself was on the deck.
+With a wild yell the pirates followed. The men of the ship now cried
+for mercy: but the slaughter went on. Revenge directed every blow—every
+stroke carried death. The voice of the chief was at last heard above the
+confusion and death-cries.
+
+“Enough: spare and secure your prisoners.”
+
+The word arrested the sword that was raised to deal the last fatal blow,
+and stayed the pike that had destruction on its point. Every pirate
+gnashed his teeth because his vengeance was stopped—but who dared disobey?
+
+“Cut the halliards:” ’twas done; and the masts of the ship in a moment
+stood bare, and she lay floating like a log on the waves.
+
+The deck was crimson and slippery with blood; the sailors of the ship,
+that had defended her so bravely, lay in heaps, dead and dying.
+
+The commander of the merchantman himself was stretched lifeless on the
+deck. He had rushed on the captain of the pirates as soon as the latter
+had gained the deck, and wielding with both hands a ponderous sword,
+made such a blow at him as would have cut him through; but by a slight
+movement the intended victim escaped the stroke, and before the commander
+could recover from the impetus of his own blow, the captain pierced him
+to the heart with his poniard. Without a groan he fell dead.
+
+As soon as the ship was captured, the captain issued his orders to his
+men, that their wounded companions should be properly attended to;
+and the boat which, although it had been swamped, on account of its
+lightness, had not sunk, should be secured.
+
+These commands were immediately attended to. The pirates forthwith picked
+up their disabled companions, that still clung to the wrecks of the first
+boat: or those who, as yet, grasped, in a desperate effort for life, the
+lower riggings of the ship of which they had laid hold in their fall from
+the bulwarks or the deck.
+
+The hatches were raised, and they began to examine the cargo. The captain
+himself, with two sturdy sailors after him, descended the steps that led
+to the cabin.
+
+Here were three persons apparently overcome with terror. A man of about
+middle age leant on the panelling of the cabin, with a long musket,
+surmounted with a rusty bayonet, in his hands, which trembled so much
+from extreme fear that they were utterly unable to raise the weapon which
+they sustained. On the floor lay a young lady in a swoon, while over
+her bent an aged priest, anxiously awaiting the appearance of returning
+animation.
+
+“Mercy, mercy on us!” cried the first individual, as the captain entered
+the cabin; “take our money; I have gold there; yes, there is gold in my
+cabin: but, for God’s sake, spare our lives: for the sake of my children
+and my family, spare an aged man, whose blood can avail you nothing,” and
+the suppliant fell on his knees, still grasping the unavailing musket.
+
+“Get up, man: kneel not to me,” said the captain, indifferently. The
+voice struck the prostrate man like an electric shock; with a sudden
+start he raised his head, and gazed at the man before him.
+
+“What voice was that?” he cried, and passed his trembling hands over
+his brow; and like him who labours, by one violent and forcible effort
+of the mind, to recall a thousand widely distant events; or like him on
+whom dawns the recollection of some long-passed, but horrible deed, he
+remained fixed to the spot, with staring eyes and fallen jaws. Again and
+again, he passed his hands over his brow,—“it was her voice!—what do I
+hear?—what do I see?—No, it cannot be—yet so like her:—no—yes—yes;—it
+is—my son.” He started, like one in frenzy, from the cabin floor, and
+rushed on the pirate chief. The latter drew back.
+
+“Keep away,” he said: “I am, indeed, your son!—secure that man,” turning
+to his men; and, while giving them this order, passed to the upper part
+of the cabin, at the same time casting a look of the bitterest scorn on
+him who had recognised him as his son.
+
+So intent was the aged priest on watching the recovery of the young lady
+under his care, that he did not even raise his eyes from her face during
+the above unexpected recognition of father and son. But when the captain
+approached the object of his solicitude, he suddenly rose, and, throwing
+himself at his feet, implored him, in the most moving accents, to spare
+the innocence and honor of the young and helpless lady.
+
+The captain, with what could be construed into a smile, bade him be
+re-assured.
+
+“Fear not, old man,” he said, “for the innocence and honor of any one on
+my account; I value my time much, and cannot spare a moment of it, either
+to blight the innocence or rob the honor of damsels;—continue your
+attention to the young lady.” He then walked up to the seat at the top of
+the cabin table, and deliberately and coolly sitting down, ordered his
+men to search for the ship’s papers and bring them to him.
+
+There was not much difficulty in discovering these, for the steward,
+who had carefully concealed himself in his pantry during the attack,
+seeing that there was no longer any bloodshed, now crept out of his
+hiding-place, and offered his services to the searching pirates, on
+condition that his life should be spared. By means of his assistance, the
+papers of the captured vessel were immediately rummaged out, and handed
+to the pirate captain.
+
+He glanced over them for a time, and at length musingly said, as if
+speaking to himself,—“The owners are rich, and they can afford to yield
+up this cargo to better men than themselves.” He then delivered the
+papers to one of his men, and ordered the passengers’ luggage to be
+searched. In the trunks of these were found large sums in doubloons and
+other gold coins,—money that had, no doubt, been destined to the buying
+of many a European luxury.
+
+The search went on; and when the cabin had been completely rifled of
+every thing that was valuable, the captain proceeded on deck, and was
+followed by his men, and the passengers, who were now prisoners.
+
+The pirates had, by this time, thoroughly examined the cargo of the
+vessel, and had found it to consist principally of the staple productions
+of the West Indies—sugar and rum—together with a small quantity of other
+minor commodities, such as tobacco and indigo. A great portion of these
+light things was already collected on the deck, where the pirates were
+assembled, waiting for their chief.
+
+“What has she?” inquired this personage, when he gained the deck.
+
+“Sugar and rum, your excellency,” one of the officers answered, and
+remained in silence before his superior, awaiting his orders.
+
+The captain seemed to consider awhile, and then replied: “Stay here, and
+retain a man with you.”
+
+The men were immediately ordered to get the boats ready to shove off to
+the schooner. Whatever light things the pirates could stow away were put
+into them. The wounded of their party were carefully lowered, from the
+decks of the captured ship, into the boats. The sailors of the ship,
+that had survived the action, were placed in the bows of the Periagua;
+and the prisoners, who, with the exception of the individual who had
+recognized the captain as his son, were without restraint, permitted to
+sit in the stern-sheets with the captain; and the young lady, who had now
+recovered from her fainting sickness, received all the attentions which
+the most perfect civility could offer, and which were evidently shown
+with the purpose of smoothing down the strange position in which she
+found herself. The boats were pushed off from the ship, that was left,
+sluggishly rolling on the waves, under the charge of the two men.
+
+The pirates shortly gained the schooner, which, during and after the
+action, continued to lie to the wind, at a short distance from the prize.
+
+Lorenzo, in whose command she was left, when the captain headed the party
+of the Periagua, stood ready at the gangway to receive his superior. No
+noise was heard on board of the captured ship or the schooner since the
+fight: the bonds of the same marvellous discipline seemed, unknowingly
+to themselves, to control the pirates, even at the moment of victory
+and exultation; but when the boats came alongside the schooner, human
+nature, it would appear, refused to contain itself any longer: and those
+fierce men, who had abandoned the entire world for the narrow space of
+their small vessel, and the inhabitants of the vast universe for the few
+kindred spirits who were their associates—that had separated themselves,
+by their deeds, from the world, the world’s sympathy, and the world’s
+good and bad, that had actually turned their hand against all men, and
+had expected, as they had probably frequently experienced, that the
+hand of all men should be turned against them, could not restrain their
+feelings of welcome, and three loud and prolonged cheers resounded, far
+and wide over the silent ocean, as they were wafted, in undying echoes,
+over the crests of the heavy and heaving billows. As comrade rejoined
+comrade, their grim and bearded faces appeared to relax from their wonted
+habit of ferocity, under the influence of a prevailing sense of joy: such
+a joy, those, alone, can experience who have seen every natural tie break
+asunder around them—who have felt the heavy hand of a crushing destiny,
+or have been hunted and driven, by the injustice and persecution of
+friend or relative, to seek shelter in that desperate solitude, which is
+relieved, but, by the presence, and cheered, but, by the sympathy of the
+few, who, like themselves, have been picked out by fate, to suffer, to be
+miserable, and to be finally, cast forth from the society of mankind.
+
+The captain endeavoured not to restrain the joy of his men; but he sat
+stern, collected, and unaffected as ever, in the stern-sheets of the
+boat. No sign of pleasure or displeasure was written on his features:
+but if any change could be read, it was the passing shadow of a deep
+melancholy that rested, for a moment, on his resolute brow. Perhaps the
+reminiscences of some bygone period were playing on his memory; perhaps
+the recollection of other days led him, in imagination, to some cherished
+spot, where he was wont to hear the joyful greetings of parent, friend,
+or lover. Perhaps the remembrance of that one moment, when, even the
+most unhappy, and the most perverse of men, feel for once, the soothing
+influence of those mysterious feelings of our nature, that melt, that
+soften, that gladden, and remain for ever in our recollection, the lonely
+stars of comfort in the heavy darkness of misfortunes. Perhaps the
+remembrance of such a moment, now flitted across the memory of the pirate
+captain.
+
+Whatever was the feeling that cast its hue over his brow, like the
+passing shadow of a fleeting cloud, it came—in the twinkling of an eye,
+it passed away; and he remained, again, the inscrutable individual, that
+he ever was.
+
+The captain, on gaining the deck of the schooner, ordered that the
+prisoners should be properly treated: “Let, however, that man,” pointing
+to the person who had recognized him as his son, “be kept in close
+custody.”
+
+Having said this, he looked around him on the schooner, where the same
+order reigned as before the attack, and went down into his cabin.
+
+The day was now nearly spent, the sun was setting red, round, and fiery,
+as it sets only in the tropics.
+
+The light goods, which the pirates had brought with them from the
+captured ship, and the prisoners, were transhipped into the schooner. The
+boats were hoisted into their places. The schooner herself lay in the
+same position—motionless, under its counteracting sails.
+
+Some time had already elapsed since the captain went below, and no orders
+had, as yet, been given for the night. The officer, whose watch it was,
+walked the deck in anxious expectation of commands.
+
+The captured ship rolled at some distance from the schooner, and it was
+apparent that it was necessary to provide for her safety during the night
+that was now setting in.
+
+The short tropical twilight had nearly passed away, and darkness was
+gathering on the expanse of the waters, when one of the negro boys, whom
+the reader may recollect, sought the cabin of the chief officer, and
+delivered to him the same ring by which, it may be remembered, he, once
+before, gained admittance into the captain’s cabin. As soon as Lorenzo
+received the ring, he proceeded to the after part of the vessel and
+gained admittance to his chief.
+
+The latter was still in his dark uniform and was sitting by the large
+table that occupied the centre of the apartment. A chart was before him;
+by its side were, also, the papers which had been brought from the ship.
+
+“Lorenzo,” said the chief to the officer, after pointing to one of the
+ottomans, “it is my will that our prize be manned, and sailed to St.
+Thomas, where we shall sell the cargo. To-morrow, we shall deal with
+our prisoners, and divide the spoils already gathered. Let a sufficient
+number of men be sent on board the ship to-night, so that she may be
+properly manned, in case of any change of the weather. Let the schooner,
+in the mean time, be kept lying to, under her jib; and let the prize
+remain in the same position—a quarter of a mile from us. At dawn of day,
+let all the men assemble on the main deck, and wait for me.”
+
+The officer rose and bowed, to depart.
+
+“Stop, Lorenzo,” resumed the chief, “drink some wine:” a spring was
+pressed, and immediately one of the boys in attendance brought in a
+richly cut decanter and the necessary accompaniments. Lorenzo and the
+captain, respectively, filled themselves a goblet and quaffed it off in
+silence; after which the officer left the cabin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+    “Come, my masters, let us share,—”
+
+                           HENRY IV.
+
+
+Obedient to the commands of his chief, Lorenzo drafted a number of men
+from the crew, and sent them on board the prize ship. The Black Schooner
+was kept in the position ordered by the captain; the proper watches for
+the night were set, and those on board the vessel retired to rest.
+
+At the dawn of the next day, a peculiar sound of the fife summoned forth
+the whole crew of the schooner. In the space of a few moments, above
+three hundred men lined the long deck.
+
+With the habit of continual discipline, they fell into order so quietly,
+that the space afforded by the deck of that comparatively small vessel,
+did not for a moment seem filled by the multitude which gathered on it.
+The pirates stood accoutred in, what might be called, their holiday
+dress. Their red woollen shirts and caps were worn with some care;
+their sashes seemed more symmetrically folded round their waists, and
+the weapons which were stuck in them, seemed adjusted with more than
+ordinary attention; while their black beards, faces, and hands, presented
+that clean, sun-burnt, half-sea, half-land appearance, which we easily
+discover in the aspect of a sailor while on shore.
+
+The appearance of the crew, as it gathered that morning, contrasted in a
+striking manner with that which it wore before the attack.
+
+Before the action, the pirates stood like men who were too much engrossed
+with one idea—one passion—to be capable of any thought which was
+unconnected with that. Their red caps were drawn carelessly over their
+heads; their dress was that of men who could not afford a moment’s time
+to its adjustment, while the wildest ferocity sat on every line of their
+countenances. On that morning the absorption of mind had ceased; they
+seemed returned from the engrossing contemplation of the sanguinary
+and the terrible, to the softer feelings that lend to life those
+charms, which, empty though they be, still are sufficient to enliven
+its monotony, and sometimes even to smooth down its asperities. Their
+habitual fierceness, too, had yielded to the contentment by which they
+seemed animated, and their features were less rigid, and less ferocious.
+
+The men had been assembled some time before the captain made his
+appearance: the change which was observed in their aspect, could not be
+read in his. He appeared the same, sternly collected, individual that he
+always was.
+
+As soon as he appeared on deck, the officers respectfully bowed. The
+captain then seated himself on a deck-stool, which had been placed behind
+a small table for him. The boys, who always attended him, then deposited
+on the table several bags of money, and disappeared.
+
+“My men,” he said, when he had been seated, “our booty in gold has been
+small, but we shall, no doubt, find a sufficient recompense for our toil
+in the purchase-money of the ship’s cargo, which it is my will to take to
+St. Thomas’ to sell. Six thousand and five hundred dollars is the amount
+of what we have got. This I shall divide among you, and forego my own
+share until a day of better fortune. Let the wounded approach.”
+
+Those who had been but slightly wounded in the last engagement, and
+could bear the fatigue of walking, stepped forward. They received shares
+larger than those of their comrades in proportion to the injuries which
+they had sustained. Those who had lost a hand, an arm, a leg, or a foot,
+received four times the amount of booty; those who had lost an eye, a
+finger, or a toe, received twice the amount. When the wounded had duly
+been recompensed, the captain then addressed his men.
+
+“Comrades,” he said, “it was our misfortune to lose some of our brave
+associates in the fight, let those who were the friends of the dead come
+forward, as I call over their names, and receive their share:—Diego—who
+is Diego’s friend?” One of the pirates stepped forward, and, raising his
+right hand, declared that he was Diego’s friend. The share which should
+have been that of the dead, was then delivered to his friend.
+
+“Martin,” continued the chief, “who was Martin’s friend?” Another pirate
+stepped forward, and, raising his right hand, in the same manner,
+declared that he was Martin’s friend.
+
+The captain went on in this manner, calling over the names of the lost
+comrades, and requiring to know their friends, until he came to the last
+of the men.
+
+“Francis,” he cried, “Francis’s friend.” Two men simultaneously stepped
+forward, and, raising their hands, each declared that he was Francis’s
+friend. “How is this?” the captain asked, “it is not impossible to have
+more than one friend, but you know, my men, that it is the custom, on
+board this schooner, to have but one man to whom his friend may bequeath
+his share?”
+
+The men then looked at each other: and each looked round at his comrades,
+as if appealing to them in testimony of his right to be considered the
+friend of the dead Francis.
+
+“He was my friend,” each said, and looked again at their comrades, in
+corroboration of his claim; but the pirates uttered not a word in answer
+to this silent appeal.
+
+“My men,” said the captain, “this has never happened here before:
+either Francis forgot his honor, when he charged both of you to be his
+friends, when dead, or one of you forgets his, when he asserts that he is
+Francis’s friend. Now, Francis is no more, and cannot answer for this;
+the responsibility of this breach of honor, my men, rests, therefore,
+upon you: one of you must lie.” The two men looked fierce when the chief
+coolly pronounced this word. “You know the law—choose your weapons—at six
+o’clock this evening you must fight: the survivor shall receive the share
+of Francis.”
+
+A low murmur of approbation rang along the line of the assembled sailors,
+and the two pretenders to the favour of the departed pirate stepped
+aside.
+
+After the shares of the wounded had been duly allotted, and those of the
+dead scrupulously delivered into the hands of their friends; or, if there
+were no friends of the deceased, carefully set apart for the purpose of
+having masses said for them, the lots of the other pirates were shared
+out to them.
+
+The officers of the schooner received theirs first, and those who might
+be called the common seamen, theirs afterwards. When the distribution was
+completed, the prisoners and strangers on board were ordered to appear.
+First came the surviving sailors of the prize ship. Out of the complement
+of thirty-five men, who had formed the crew of that vessel, five only
+had escaped death in the engagement. These came forth, pale and haggard,
+expecting, apparently, to hear every moment the dreadful command which,
+in some horrible way, should put an end to their existence. The five
+English sailors, with the exception of one, whose years might be more
+mature, were in the prime of life, and wore that hue of health which
+their calling imparts: howbeit the anxiety of the position in which they
+were placed had had its temporary effect on them.
+
+They approached the captain with an air of uneasiness, turning their hats
+about in their brawny hands, while divers bumps might have been observed
+to rise now and then, and disappear immediately on their weather beaten
+cheeks: probably they were the various protrusions created by the quid,
+while it went through the many revolutions in which it was then twisted.
+
+“What were your wages, by the month, men?” inquired the captain, when the
+English sailors stood before him, bending on them, at the same time, one
+of his searching and stern looks.
+
+The sailors looked at each other, then at the captain, and then at
+each other again, and could not, apparently, be bold enough to reply,
+lest the question might, eventually, prove to be some trap by which it
+was intended to ensnare them into some confession or other that would
+tend to aggravate their sufferings. The captain neither showed signs
+of impatience nor renewed his question, but remained still, looking
+stedfastly on the sailors, with the cool composure of one who does not
+wonder that others should feel embarrassed in his presence; but, on the
+contrary, expects a degree of confusion on the part of those who are
+addressed by him. The oldest man of the five, however, at last spoke and
+answered:
+
+“Three pounds a month, your honor,” raising his hand, at the same time,
+to the part of his head where the brim of his hat should have been, if
+that necessary cerebral protection had happened to be in its proper
+place at the time, and not in his hands.
+
+“Have any of you received any advances on your wages?” again inquired the
+captain.
+
+“Half of a months’ wages have been paid at home, your honor,” answered
+the old tar, of which answer, when he had duly delivered himself, he
+looked anxiously round at his four companions respectively, and seemed to
+inquire, “what will this lead to?”
+
+The captain drew from a purse several pieces of gold, which, when he had
+divided into several small sums, he gave to the sailors.
+
+“There are your wages,” he said, as he tendered the money to them, “for
+the five months that you have been on the voyage, we give, and do not
+take from such as you.”
+
+The sailors looked bewildered. They could scarcely believe their ears,
+and they cast glances of amazement at each other. Even the appearance
+of money, it would appear, could not re-assure them; they put out their
+hands to receive the tendered wages like men who were afraid to receive
+something that was given lest danger should be attached to it.
+
+“We shall land you on the nearest head-land,” continued the captain, “in
+the mean time, you may enjoy your liberty. If any of you wish to join
+my men, you can do so. The rules of the ship are few: I require but one
+thing—obedience. Death is the penalty of the least breach of discipline.”
+
+Having said this, the captain waved his hand, and the English sailors
+fell back behind the assembled crew.
+
+The master fisherman and his men were next brought forward. They had by
+this time become perfectly at home in the schooner. The master fisherman
+found that the life, which he would be likely to lead on board would suit
+his Spanish blood, and Spanish character, well. Down to that time, also,
+he had been well treated.
+
+It is true, the discipline of the schooner had appeared to him,
+accustomed as he was to the free and independent life of one of his
+calling, rather hard and unbearable; but the good companionship, and
+the profits of a pirate’s life were sufficient, in his estimation, to
+outweigh that inconvenience. As for Jack Jimmy, and his other man, they,
+too, had familiarized themselves with their position: the latter seemed
+to care but for little, in this world, beside the luxury of eating,
+drinking, and sleeping. He found the schooner capable of furnishing
+him with those three things, and was not, therefore inclined, like the
+generality of mortals, to grumble about more, when he already enjoyed the
+three elements of his happiness.
+
+The former, Jack Jimmy, it is true, was of a less contented, and more
+restless disposition; and the order and monotony of the schooner, to say
+nothing of the continual fear in which he had at first been kept, by
+the mystery of his novel position, tended to make him long for his own
+cabin; or, at best, for any other situation but the one in which he was
+then placed. He became, however, by degrees more satisfied, the longer he
+remained in the schooner; for, he was not ill-treated in the first place,
+and the tricks which the men played upon him, the voyage, and the other
+things—except, perhaps, the fight—which had happened since his arrival on
+board, contributed, in the second place, to afford that excitement which,
+it would seem, his nature craved.
+
+As the master fisherman appeared, the captain delivered to him a purse,
+and said:
+
+“That will compensate you for the time you have lost: you will be landed
+soon, you, and your men.”
+
+Jack Jimmy had followed his master, or rather had been thrust forward
+with him, in a state of nervous trepidation. The movements of the little
+negro were as brisk and as rapid as those of a monkey. His head turned
+on his shoulders like a weather gauge in a storm, while his large white
+eyes were stretched open to their utmost width. His head seemed to be
+turned forwards, sideways, and backwards at the same time. One would
+have said that while he looked before him, he was afraid he should be
+struck backwards, or sideways; while he looked sideways, that he should
+be struck either from before or behind; and while he looked backwards, he
+was afraid that he should be struck from before or from the side.
+
+He was going on thus, like an automaton in violent action, when the sound
+of the captain’s voice fell upon his ear. He seemed, at that moment,
+struck motionless. He fixed his eyes on him, lowered what supplied the
+place of eyebrows, opened his mouth, threw his head and neck as far
+forwards as he could, and remained rooted to the spot in deep examination
+of the young man before him.
+
+This did not last long; for, with his, usually rapid movements, he threw
+himself at the foot of the captain, before he had quite finished the few
+words which he had addressed to the master fisherman, clasped his knees
+franticly in his arms, and yelled out,—“Garamighty! da ee—da ee—da me
+young massa.”
+
+Jack Jimmy sobbed aloud, as he the more tightly clasped the knees of the
+captain. The latter looked down calmly and coolly on the little man,
+seemed to recognize him, but said not a word to him.
+
+Pained by the apparent forgetfulness of his young master, he raised his
+head, and, looking imploringly up to the captain Jack Jimmy cried out,
+piteously:
+
+“You no know me—you no know me, massa—you no know Jack Jimmy—you no
+’member Jack Jimmy in de mule-pen—you—”
+
+“Yes, I do recollect you, Jack Jimmy,” interrupted the captain, “but you
+must neither make such a noise here, nor continue where you are.” He
+made a sign with his hand, and two men stepped forward and led away the
+affectionate Jack Jimmy.
+
+“Ah! my young massa,” continued the affectionate negro as he was taken
+away, “ee bin da gie me cake—he bin da gie me grog—an when dey bin want
+foo beat me ee bin da beg foo me.”
+
+When Jack Jimmy had been led away behind the assembled crew, and had been
+prevailed upon to become silent, which change did not take place in him
+until he had been threatened to be again rocked in the sail, the priest
+and the young lady were, in their turn, led forth. The former, although
+it was perceptible that he anticipated the gloomiest results, still
+had a resigned and serene air. He looked calmly on all that had taken
+place that day, and, perhaps, there might be read in his eyes a certain
+expression of surprise, that the pirates did not at once act with that
+blood-thirsty ruffianism which he had been accustomed, from his earliest
+schoolboy readings, to attach to men of that abandoned life.
+
+The young lady was, naturally, much more affected by the circumstances of
+her situation; kindness, however, had not been spared to reconcile her to
+it as much as possible.
+
+Lorenzo had been strictly enjoined to show all marks of attention to
+her; and he seemed not to have required the positive command of his
+chief to do so: for she had at her command the chivalrous devotedness,
+which great beauty always draws from even the most stoical of men. She
+was exceedingly beautiful; such a species of beauty that we meet only
+in the tropics,—a beauty which we can compare to no known standard:
+something that belongs entirely to the warm clime by which it is
+produced; something that is more of the fanciful than of the real. She
+was of a middle age, slender, and of a perfect figure; her features were
+delicately and nicely chiselled; her complexion was of the clearest
+white, tinged with the slightest olive; her dark brown hair hung over
+a high and nicely moulded forehead, while her dark gazelle-like eyes
+imparted to her face a character of tenderness and softness.
+
+The officer had exhibited the greatest solicitude on behalf of the fair
+captive from the moment she came on board the schooner; and now, when she
+stood on deck, weak and nervous, he might have been observed, from time
+to time, stealthily to give her as much assistance as the rules of the
+vessel permitted, and to pay her, perhaps, more attention than even the
+commands of his chief could have been intended to require of him.
+
+When the priest and young lady stood before the captain, he spoke but
+very few words to them.
+
+“You will be landed,” he said, as he looked at the two persons, “with the
+others, on the nearest cape.”
+
+He waved his hand, and the captives were led away.
+
+Lastly, the man who was found in the cabin of the captured ship, armed
+with a musket, and who had called the captain his son, was then led
+forward. Unlike the other prisoners, he was strictly guarded, and
+seemed to be treated with a severity that was the very opposite of that
+moderation which had been so generally and unexpectedly shown to the
+other prisoners that were in the same situation with himself.
+
+The captain cast a stern and penetrating look on him, as he was brought
+before him, and said, in his stern indifferent manner:
+
+“Prepare, to-morrow, for your trial; you know your crime.” As he said
+this, he waved his hand.
+
+The prisoner seemed tongue-tied for awhile, his countenance betrayed
+the most despondent fear; he seemed to become conscious, at once, of
+some great offence, under whose weighty recollection his whole faculties
+appeared overwhelmed.
+
+He stood before him whom he called his son, and seemed to entertain for
+him more fear than any of the stranger prisoners who could claim no
+relationship or parentage to move his pity or secure his forbearance.
+He could not utter a word for the short moment that he stood before the
+captain, but when the pirates, who guarded him, laid their hands roughly
+upon him, to pull him away, the fear, the surprise, the consciousness
+which, till then, had deprived him of speech, lost their power under the
+influence of the terror that now seized him.
+
+“But—what—what is my offence? how dare you? My own son, to—” here one of
+the sailors, who guarded him, threw his sash over his head, and bound it
+so tightly behind, that not even a murmur of the unfortunate prisoner
+could be heard, as he was led away to the foremost part of the vessel.
+
+The chief now rose and retired. The crew silently returned to their
+own quarters, and the Black Schooner which, a moment ago, was full of
+animation, was now left again quiet and apparently solitary, gracefully
+riding over the sparkling waves under her jib and half-mainsail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+    “Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,
+    Until my eye-lids no longer wag.”
+
+                                         HAMLET.
+
+
+The captain had retired from the deck of the schooner but a short
+time, when the sounds of the gong, which was the usual instrument for
+announcing a day of pleasure to the sailors, echoed over the vessel. The
+sounds were received with joy, and, in a short time, the deck of the
+schooner again presented the scene of life, which it had done but a few
+moments ago, but which had been momentarily succeeded by the contrasting
+stillness of death.
+
+On this occasion, however, the sailors were not standing in the stiff
+restraint of discipline and duty, as then, but they delivered themselves
+up to enjoyment with all that impetuosity of pleasure, which strict
+constraint and proper separation of relaxation from labour necessarily
+produce. No boisterous mirth, nevertheless, obtained among them now,
+as on the other day. They were occupied in either speaking about the
+prize-ship, and the prospect of their booty, or in speculating upon the
+enjoyment which their share of the mornings’ division would procure them,
+when they should be allowed a day’s sport in some friendly harbour. The
+liquors, which they had taken on board of the ship, circulated freely
+around, and the choice tobacco which had also fallen into their hands,
+contributed largely to their gratification.
+
+The English sailors, who had been induced to make themselves easy by
+the forbearance with which they were treated, and had been invited by
+the pirates to mix in the merriment, joined freely in the carousals of
+the day. By that mysterious sympathy which instinctively exists between
+people of the same country, and children of the same soil, they had been
+drawn together around Jim Splice, and were now expressing their surprise
+at what they had seen, and experienced on board the Black Schooner.
+
+“Ay, ay, shipmates,” said Jim Splice, in answer to them, “you have come
+from a far country, hav’nt you? ha, ha! you thought you were done for,
+eh? when you saw our pikes, and our skull and bones; ha, ha! my hearties,
+you did’nt know us: and, when you came on board, you expected to be made
+to walk the plank, eh? We don’t look for men’s lives—what booty does that
+give? we look for something better; and if you, or that stupid skipper
+of yours was’nt foolish enough to fire upon us, why, we would have taken
+your money and your ship, to be sure, but those comrades of yours, that
+have now gone to their reckoning, would be here now, to take a glass of
+grog with old Jim Splice. But, by G—d, that was a reg’lar rattler that
+you gave the first boat—I never seed the like. It was foolish, though;
+what could your skipper gain by that?”
+
+“Why,” replied one of the sailors, “you see we had but one gun to fire
+salutes with, and our skipper had it loaded with all kind of material,
+and pointed it himself. He thought, you see, you would have cut away
+after the first discharge, you see.”
+
+“Then, by G—d,” replied Jim Splice, “he counted without his host, my
+hearty; no one has ever seen the stern of this here Black Schooner,”
+striking the deck on which he sat, with his hand, “as is commanded by
+that ere captain you spoke to this morning; and you may take my word for
+that, I know. That man that you saw this morning, I tell you, is the very
+devil, when his blood is up; he fights like a tiger—a reg’lar tiger.”
+
+“But, who is that old lubber that looked so miserable this morning—him
+who was guarded?”
+
+“We don’t know much of him,” answered one of the sailors, “but I have
+heard our captain say that he was a rich old codger. I know he sent on
+board as many hens and sheep as would keep us on fresh provisions all the
+voyage if it had’nt so happened as we were taken. But why was he guarded
+that way?”
+
+“Hum—no one knows,” replied Splice, “I guess there is some
+misunderstanding between him and our captain; if so, God help him! for
+those who have misunderstandings with our fire-eater never get on well, I
+know; old Jim Splice would’nt be in that lubber’s ducks for the richest
+West Indiaman that ever carried sugar, I know.”
+
+Here Jim Splice remained silent for a few moments, during which time he
+seemed to be wrapt in serious reflection.
+
+“By G—d,” he continued, “I was saying, yes—yes—I saw him once—ay, our
+captain, punish a shipmate that had’nt obeyed orders, and I sha’nt forget
+that, I know. Those that sail well with our captain are treated like his
+children, but God help those who cross him in his tack, all young and
+quiet as you see him!”
+
+Splice became again silent, and looked absorbed, as if his memory was
+returning to some bygone scene in his chequered life.
+
+“But, my hearties,” he said, when he had been silent for a considerable
+time, “will you go ashore, or remain with us? This is the schooner for
+any man of spirit; by G—d! I should’nt leave this ere craft if they would
+give me the finest palace to-morrow. Here we lead the lives of men—ay,
+tough brave men—ay, no lubberly coxcomb to make us jump about, or talk to
+us in oaths, by G—d, no. Every man here is a man; he has only to observe
+discipline, that’s all, no mistake there, my boys; overboard with any
+one who does’nt keep the rules—ay, this is the craft, my hearties. But
+what is the matter there?” as he said this, he pointed towards the bows
+of the vessel, where three men were standing, and seemed to be objects
+of attraction to all the other pirates, for the eyes of the whole crew
+were turned towards them. “Ah! I see,” observed Jim Splice, “it is my two
+shipmates of this morning, that are going to fight it out. That’s a bad
+business: we never see things of this sort on board this here craft; two
+men never claim the share of a dead comrade.”
+
+It was, as Splice had justly remarked, the two men, who had claimed
+the portion of the departed Francis, under the pretence of being his
+friends. The other person, who was standing by them, was the officer
+of the watch, whose duty it was to see the order, which the captain had
+given in the morning, carried into effect. As soon as it was six o’clock,
+he had proceeded forwards, and reminded the parties that the time for
+the duel had arrived. He found the two men, who were about to join in
+deadly fight, drinking with their comrades, apparently thoughtless of
+the bloody deed which they were now bound, by the order of the captain,
+to execute. One of them, however, did not seem as gay as usual, although
+he made strong efforts to conceal the thoughtfulness which now and then
+shewed itself in his dull and uneasy manner. It might be imagined that
+some serious thoughts of parent or child were forcing themselves on his
+unwilling memory; or, perhaps, remorse for some deed that was horrible
+even to his piratical conscience was at that moment haunting him.
+
+When the officer had reminded the two men that the hour was come, they
+proceeded with him to the bows of the schooner.
+
+The officer placed himself by the combatants with the evident purpose of
+being a witness, or, rather, the witness, to the deed.
+
+The two men, who were to fight, proceeded in the mean time to prepare
+for the combat. They undid each his sash, and folded it carefully round
+his left arm, examined the edges of their poniards, and placed themselves
+in attitude, with the left arm raised, as if supporting a shield. This
+was done with the most astonishing coolness, not a word was spoken
+between the antagonists, not a malignant or malicious glance escaped from
+either the one or the other, but the features of the two men that faced
+each other were locked in that grave fierceness which is too deep to be
+expressed by changes of the countenance.
+
+Having completed their preparations, the intended combatants stood for a
+time inactive, each apparently expecting the assault of the other, and
+displaying in their manly attitude the muscular fulness, bold glance, and
+resolute eye, which we admire in the statues of the ancient gladiators
+that art has bequeathed to our contemplation. They seemed by no means
+eager to assail each other; they evinced not the impetuosity of men who
+rush on each other in the out-burst of their rage: they seemed to be
+about to do something which they were, indeed, obliged to perform, but
+from which their natures revolted; their blood was too cold for the deed;
+the small portion of a dead comrade was too little to fire their spirits
+and spur them headlong on each other. Still they were obliged to fight.
+When both had stood, however, in this manner for a long time, the one who
+in the morning had first claimed to be Francis’s friend, suddenly rushed
+on his antagonist, and raising his poniard on high made at his opponent.
+
+By a sudden movement of the body the latter avoided the blow; as quick
+as thought the other drew himself up in his former position, and before
+his antagonist could regain the equilibrium which he had partly lost
+by bending his body to avoid the blow, he aimed a deadly stab, and the
+glistening poniard descended in sure destruction on the left breast
+of the stooping antagonist; but a dexterous parry with the muffled
+arm averted the blow, and the poniard passed harmlessly through the
+scarf. The apathy or indifference which existed at the beginning had
+now passed away, and the fight began to warm. The two fighters plunged
+with desperation at each other, but both seemed equally expert in the
+use of their weapons. With the agility and the pliability of serpents
+they avoided each other’s blows by the rapid movements of their bodies,
+while their feet scarcely moved from the place in which they were at
+first planted. On—on they rushed at each other, but in vain: they were
+well matched. The fight now became still more animated; anger, rage,
+disappointment, could now be read in the grim faces of the combatants;
+their nostrils distended wide with fatigue, the perspiration poured down
+their dark faces, and their lips, curling high with rage and scorn,
+exhibited their clenched teeth, white and glistening beneath the shadow
+of their black mustachios.
+
+With a dreadful thrust, one at last buried his poniard deep into the neck
+of the other.
+
+Exasperated by the cut, the wounded man made a desperate rush on his
+antagonist, who bent his body a little to the side and gave way to the
+assailant. Borne away by his own impetus, and already weakened by the
+wound, he staggered forwards a little, and fell flat on his face. The
+victor waited for a moment for his antagonist to rise, but the unhappy
+man had received his death-blow, and remained prostrate on the deck.
+The other, after this, did not seem to take the slightest notice of
+his opponent’s fall, but proceeded with coolness to unfold his sash
+from around his arm and to wipe his bloody poniard. The officer on duty
+immediately went to the assistance of the fallen man, and summoning two
+of the men of his watch, ordered him to be removed from the deck. The two
+sailors bent over the wounded man to lift him, but they were sullenly
+repelled. He was the pirate that had claimed the share last.
+
+“Leave me,” he sullenly cried, “leave me, I say; let me die here.” The
+sailors drew back.
+
+“Come, comrade,” said the officer, “you cannot expect us to let you
+remain here—remove him, my men.”
+
+The sailors endeavoured again to lay hold of the man, but, with the
+impulsive strength of death, he brandished his poniard about him and kept
+them away.
+
+“Let me die here, and be damned to me!” he exclaimed, “I was not
+Francis’s friend, and I have deserved to be killed this way,” and he
+churlishly dropped his head on the deck.
+
+The sailors, who stood around the dying man, were surprised and shocked
+by his confession, for no instance of such base falsehood had ever been
+known before on board the Black Schooner. A strict sense of honor was
+maintained among the pirates. This was not only enforced by the stringent
+laws which existed, but was cheerfully cultivated by the men themselves,
+from motives not only of obedience, but self-preservation, for they were
+fully persuaded that the least breach of honesty among themselves, would
+be the end of their individual security, and the dissolution of their
+society.
+
+Besides, to men of such dispositions, accustomed as they were to act
+openly and to hazard their lives boldly, such acts of calculating
+meanness were naturally disgusting.
+
+It may be said that the very illegitimate pursuit in which they were
+engaged was itself dishonesty, but it is to be recollected that they
+considered piracy not in the shocking light in which better and more
+delicate minds justly view it; but they looked upon it more like
+adventures, in which men of spirit could engage with as much honor, as
+in fighting under the banners of stranger kings, for the purpose of
+conquering distant and unoffending peoples. They viewed, therefore,
+this act of meanness, on the part of the fallen man, with disgust, and
+the commiseration which was at first so spontaneously shown as to an
+unfortunate party in a duel, was immediately withdrawn when the dying man
+disclosed his crime.
+
+The officer who witnessed the combat, upon hearing the confession,
+proceeded immediately to Lorenzo and reported the circumstance. That
+officer heard him with much concern: he knew the extreme penalty that was
+attached to such an offence, and his heart was sickened at the thought
+of an execution. He listened to the report of the officer until he had
+finished, and remained silent for a time, apparently meditating either
+intercession or some other means of avoiding the fatal punishment which
+he well knew the crime of the man would entail. Every hope, however,
+seemed to give way in succession, for, after he had remained silent for
+some time, he said, shaking his head:
+
+“I wish to Heaven that man had never come on board the schooner, or that
+he should have died, at least, with his own secret. I shall communicate
+these things to the captain: but I pity the poor fellow.”
+
+Accordingly he left his cabin, and got access to that of the captain,
+when he repeated the report of the officer on duty. The captain heard
+him with the same grave and apparently apathetic coolness which
+characterised him, and then repeated, in his deep sonorous voice, the
+fatal sentence—“Let the punishment be executed upon him.”
+
+While Lorenzo was communicating the latter part of the intelligence,
+there might have been discovered a slight falter in his voice, and some
+embarrassment in his manner. He seemed to tremble at the consequence
+which such a short sentence would produce, while he himself was under the
+sad obligation of pronouncing the words which would bring about the fatal
+results that he seemed to dread so much. He, however, had managed to
+inform the captain of the poor man’s crime, and he still hoped that the
+circumstance of his being already at the point of death, from the wound
+which he had received, would suspend the punishment which he but too well
+knew would follow that which, in the Black Schooner, was accounted the
+highest guilt.
+
+Lorenzo, therefore, anxiously watched the countenance of his cold and
+stern commander, in the hopes of being able to read in the expression
+which his report would produce, something that would lead him to believe
+that the unhappy culprit should be spared the horrors of an execution,
+when the hand of death seemed to be already laid so heavily upon him.
+But the features of the captain changed not: it is true, the minutest
+scrutiny may have detected a transitory alteration in the eyes, but that
+was more terrible than assuring. It lasted but for a moment, the face
+wore its own cold severity when the fatal “let the punishment be executed
+upon him” was pronounced.
+
+Lorenzo silently rose, bowed, and retired. No man ever pretended to
+advise the chief; he seemed one who held counsel but with himself, he
+carried his discipline and his doctrine of expediency so far, that he
+never permitted either the suggestions of his officers, nor heard the
+prayers of mercy when once his commands were issued. Lorenzo knew that:
+more tender than his pursuit should have made him, he felt deeply for
+the wretched man who was doomed, that hour, to die for the satisfaction
+of the rigid laws of the schooner.
+
+When Lorenzo left the cabin of the captain, he went on deck, where he
+gathered the men about him. These had continued in their places during
+the duel and the scene which ensued, apparently unaffected and unmoved
+by what was passing before them. During the most animated part of the
+combat, they had become as silent as if they were dumb, while their eyes
+were rivetted on the two who were fighting. But as soon as the duel
+was over, they fell again into the strain of mirth and revelry, which
+had been for a short time suspended, and the stabs and passes of the
+late combatants became the subjects of an animated conversation and of
+criticism.
+
+But as soon as the wounded man had made known his crime, a general
+indignation seemed to seize the pirates.
+
+They talked low and sullenly, and appeared to expect every moment
+something whose anticipation already had the effect of damping their
+hilarity.
+
+Lorenzo repeated to them, for the sake of form, that which they already
+knew, and then repeated the sentence of the captain. The pirates spoke
+not a word, but a deep silence reigned among them. The officer of the
+watch was then requested to cast lots among his men for two who should
+execute the sentence. The two on whom the lot fell, preceded by the
+officer, shortly came up to the wounded man. They seemed very much
+dissatisfied with the duty that had devolved upon them.
+
+The officer bent over the wounded man and reminded him that he had
+violated the most binding of their laws, and, at the same time, had
+exposed the life of a comrade to his own poniard, when he knew all the
+while that he had no right to contend for the portion which had been
+bequeathed by one dead comrade to another. He repeated the usual sentence
+passed in that case, and stated that the captain had also ordered its
+execution, and told him that within a few moments he should no longer
+live.
+
+“Have you,” he asked, in conclusion, “any request to make?”
+
+“No,” answered the wounded man, with the same sullenness as before.
+
+The two men now raised the culprit on the bulwarks of the schooner. One
+of them supported him there, while the other proceeded to attach to his
+legs two cannon-balls, which were strongly tied up in pieces of old
+canvass. The culprit watched these preparations with the most unmoved
+indifference and most sullen cynicism. By this time he had lost a great
+quantity of blood, and his face was horribly pale and haggard, and wore
+under the shade of his malignant eyes an expression of deep malice,
+accompanied with a spiteful feeling against all men on account of the
+disappointment he had met, and the discomfiture which he had experienced
+in the fight. He spoke not a word; not a tender feeling seemed to warm
+his heart at that moment. The many years which he had, no doubt, passed
+among those from whom he was on the point of being cast away for ever,
+seemed not to recall to his gloomy recollection one single happy,
+or convivial moment which he might fondly contemplate; nor did the
+remembrance of some distant friend, of mother, or sister, or of wife,
+appear to force itself upon the man, whose moments were now numbered;
+but stolid, cold, and sullen, he lay on the bulwarks—on the brink of his
+existence.
+
+The chest and other effects belonging to him were now brought and placed
+also on the rails. To them were also attached cannon-balls, and they were
+supported in that position by one of the men who seemed to await the
+orders of the officer.
+
+They had not to wait long: the officer made a sign, and the wretched man,
+with his effects, was precipitated into the deep. A few bubbles arose to
+the surface, and the ocean rolled on over the executed pirate. Not an
+eye followed the splash, not a pirate looked where the waters had settled
+for ever over their victim, but the crew seemed to erase, at once, from
+their recollection the existence of their late dishonest comrade. They
+still sat at their cans, but the elasticity of the revelry was broken, to
+those grim men themselves such a death was solemn: the recent execution
+damped their spirits, and their pleasure was no longer like pleasure.
+The men and the officer returned to the duties of their watch. The sun
+sank in the horizon, night came, silence resumed its wonted reign, and
+the Black Schooner rode in the stillness of the deep over the long lazy
+billows of the Caribean Sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+    “I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?”
+
+                                MERCHANT OF VENICE.
+
+
+As soon as the sun had risen the next morning, the crew was again
+summoned to the main deck. They appeared, as on the day before, in their
+best costume, and fell into the same order.
+
+The seamen, who belonged to the prize-ship, together with the master
+fisherman and his men, were placed by themselves, while the priest
+and the young lady were, as a mark of distinction, accommodated with
+deck-stools apart.
+
+As soon as the men had assembled, the captain made his appearance on
+deck. He was appareled in the uniform, which it would appear he always
+wore when he was out of his cabin: the deep red cap, with the skull and
+cross bones, also covered his head. The expression of his features, if
+possible, was that of even more gravity than usual, and the melancholy
+cast which stamped that gravity was, perhaps, somewhat more deepened. He
+seated himself immediately on a chair, which was ready there for him, and
+ordered the prisoner who, the day before, had been dragged away to close
+confinement, to be brought forward.
+
+This individual was immediately escorted from the forward part of the
+vessel, and placed in the space reserved within the two lines of pirates,
+and face to face with the captain.
+
+The prisoner was a man somewhat above the ordinary height, of a demeanour
+which might have once been, to a great extent, commanding, but which
+seemed to have parted with whatever of native dignity it possessed, in
+proportion, as the spirit of excellence and elegance, which usually
+imparts character to the exterior, gave place to thoughts either of
+sordid pursuits, or to mean and selfish cares. He was now slightly bent,
+more, perhaps, from carelessness to his gait than with age: for his
+years could not have been very many. His hair, that still grew thick and
+bushy, was only just beginning to show a silvery tinge. His features were
+marked and manly, and must have been, at one time, very handsome, though
+now they were stamped with a disagreeable appearance of coldness and
+selfishness, which was calculated to arouse, at once, in a stranger’s
+mind, a strong prejudice against the individual; while his sharp,
+twinkling, cozening eyes, in particular, that shone from under a veil of
+shaggy eyebrows, that flew from object to object, that rested on no man
+for a moment, nor dared meet the glances that they encountered, conveyed
+immediately an idea of the lack of that firm, unequivocating honor which
+is essentially necessary in the constitution of a proper character.
+
+When the prisoner was placed before him, the captain fixed upon him a
+deep, penetrating, and earnest look, that made him cower, and then slowly
+and solemnly pronounced these words:—
+
+“James Willmington, before God, and in the presence of these men, and
+in the name of Nature, I accuse you of having violated one of the most
+sacred and most binding of her laws; of having abandoned your offspring;
+of having neglected the being whose existence sprang from yours, and for
+whom you were bound by a holy obligation to care and provide.”
+
+The captain paused for a moment, and still kept his penetrating and
+unaltering eye fixed on the prisoner. The latter, on hearing this charge,
+raised his eyes in affrighted surprise, but quickly looked down as he met
+those of the pirate captain, while his color came and went.
+
+“You shall be witness against yourself: because, although I lately took
+proper measures to make myself certain, that you were the individual
+who was indicated as the person that was my father; still, not having
+ever known you, and not possessing any tender instincts to guide me with
+regard to you, I should have always felt some slight doubt about your
+identity, if your fear, and miscalculating cunning had not, the day
+before yesterday, unwarily betrayed you into an avowal which, I must
+admit, I was not ready to hear from your lips. These men shall be your
+judges. You will be permitted full liberty to express yourself, at the
+proper time, as freely as you may think proper, omitting nothing that you
+may believe to be conducive to your safety. I shall reserve to myself the
+part of passing sentence upon you and of directing its execution; and I
+promise you, that whatever defence you may be able to make shall weigh as
+heavily as lead in your favour: for I should be loath to punish you if
+even you can contrive to justify yourself.”
+
+“But what is the meaning—?” the prisoner began to inquire.
+
+The captain pressed his finger firmly on his lips, and Willmington was
+daunted into silence. The pirate captain then went on:
+
+“I need not now call it to your recollection,” he said, “that I am your
+son. Your memory, which all along was so unfaithful on that point,
+seems to have suddenly improved, when you saw me in the cabin of the
+ship which I had taken, and then you remembered well that I was your
+son. By your own confession, therefore, I am saved the trouble of
+proving for my satisfaction the natural connexion which exists between
+us. It is, therefore, undoubted and settled, that I stand towards you
+in the relation of son to father, or, in other words, speaking more
+scientifically, I am your immediate progeny. This is clear. Now, by
+certain feelings which are implanted in us, and which are considered the
+laws of the Creator, written on the heart of man at his creation, we
+are admonished that the care of those who spring immediately from us,
+is one of our principle duties. But, as we are so apt to mistake habits
+for innate feelings, perhaps it will be better and safer, not to proceed
+on this one, however strong or indisputable it may appear. Let feeling,
+therefore, or instinct, be entirely eliminated, and let us appeal to
+Nature herself in her manifestations—to Nature that never errs. You admit
+that I am your son—your offspring; you owed me as such offspring, at
+least, protection until I was strong enough to provide for myself and to
+avoid injuries. Contrast now your conduct with your duty. You are aware,
+that from the hour of the birth of this, your son, up to this, you have
+never taken the trouble even to inquire what had become of the being of
+whose existence you were the secondary cause; whether the mother, of whom
+he was born, had survived to nurture him; whether he was exposed, in the
+helplessness of infancy, to the privations which overwhelm even maturer
+age; or, worse still than all, whether he had fallen into stranger’s
+hands, to be the humble object of capricious charity. You did not trouble
+yourself to learn whether the cold winds froze him in the very beginning
+of life; whether he was a prey to the beasts of the woods, or whether the
+vultures of the air had pecked or torn him, or had fed upon him; he was
+forsaken, and left unprotected by the person who had given him life—life,
+which with kindness is made happiness itself, but which by unkindness is
+rendered worse than the bitterest misery. The tiger will tear to pieces
+the bold intruder that menaces, nay, that approaches its cubs, and,
+fiercely fighting, will die for the protection of its young. The solitary
+bird of the desert will open its vein, and make its parched young ones
+drink of its life blood, then die; the venomous serpent will writhe and
+twist under the fiercest foe for its hatchling; but you, unlike the
+tiger, the bird, or the serpent, not resembling even the most ferocious
+brute, or the lowest reptile that crawls upon this earth, you cast
+away from you, and shut out from your mind and heart, until a cowardly
+consideration for your own safety made remember it, the blood of your
+blood, and the flesh of your flesh, which even the common affection that
+you have for yourself—your very essential selfishness itself—should have
+made you love and cherish; or, at least, feed and water. I am your son; I
+charge you with having abandoned me from childhood; what defence can you
+make? I give you ten minutes to reflect and to answer.”
+
+The pirate captain then ceased: his eyes were fixed on the deck, his arms
+were crossed over his breast, and his features were locked in cold but
+firmest determination, and he had the air of one, who was resolved to go
+through a prescribed form with patience and precision. The men embraced
+the opportunity afforded by this pause to interchange looks one with the
+other. Their usual ferocious character of mein was heightened for the
+history which their chief had just partly related, no doubt recalled to
+the greater part of those men who stood that morning on the deck of the
+Black Schooner, the injustice, whether real or merely supposed, with
+which they had been treated by others. Victims to wrongs and injuries
+which others had heaped upon them, they had permitted their feelings to
+become cankered. Accustomed for the most part to the circumstances of an
+easy, and as far as some of them were concerned, an estated position,
+they could not in the hour of adversity, bend to the petty pursuits of
+life, while their pride, at the same time, would not let them lead a
+different sort of existence among those who were either their companions
+or their inferiors in their better days.
+
+Turning their backs on pretended friends and unkind kindred, they had
+fled to the protection of the sea, where they could enjoy the doubtful
+comfort of their misanthropy to the full, and feed at pleasure on
+their own griefs; while their sword was ready to be used as well for
+pleasure as for booty, against the whole world to which they at the same
+time boldly and fearlessly gave defiance. The recollection of other
+days, however, fell upon their spirits, and how scared soever their
+sensibilities might be by a thousand scenes of blood, how hardened soever
+by long familiarity with misery, still those impressions to which in
+the day-dreams of their youth they had fondly bound their happiness,
+could not but be awakened by the tale that seemed to hold up to each of
+themselves the fleeting reflection of their own hopeful, but long since
+spoilt and blighted existence.
+
+It was resentment, so strong as to have primarily germinated disgust
+in their hearts, and next a distaste for the society of their species,
+that had made them separate themselves from mankind and wander
+misanthropically about, until they eventually found themselves combined
+with others as unfortunate, as unenduring, and as proud as themselves;
+it was resentment of injustices of a similar nature to the instance to
+which their chief was a victim, that had changed their lot, and hating
+still the causes of their unhappiness, they were eager to wreak vengeance
+upon any individual to whom they could bring home any such offence. They
+interchanged fierce looks with each other, cast now and then dark and
+boding glances on the prisoner, and portentously stroked their dark and
+flowing beards. As for the prisoner himself, he appeared confounded;
+still there was not that vacant appearance of embarrassed simplicity
+about him which we generally observe in those that are innocent when
+unhappy circumstances put them at a loss. His was a distressing
+confusion—the confusion that conscious guilt, too clear to admit of even
+the shifts of equivocation and falsity had produced—a confusion that was
+doubled by the mortifying, degrading, and overwhelming fact, that his
+accuser, the witness, and the sufferer from his offence was his own son.
+The guilty father therefore stood dumb before the son—the judge.
+
+The ten minutes had now elapsed, the captain raised his head, and said,
+
+“Do you then say nothing in your defence?”
+
+“I—I—I do not understand what all this means,” at last Willmington
+falteringly said.
+
+“So much the worse” dryly observed the captain.
+
+“You charge me with an offence,” continued Willmington, “which you make
+worse than it is; you must remember men are not punished in society
+for such offences, and I do not see why I should be ill-treated on its
+account, when others are not.”
+
+An indistinct smile played about the lips of the captain, as he answered,
+
+“That is no defence.”
+
+“Beside,” Willmington went on to say, “what right have you to constitute
+yourself my judge?”
+
+“The right,” answered the captain, “of an injured man, who avenges the
+wrong done to himself, and also to one who was his nearest and dearest
+blood, and whose memory demands justice.”
+
+“But, by the laws, a man cannot redress his own wrongs,” said
+Willmington.
+
+“By what laws?” inquired the captain.
+
+“By the laws of the land,” answered Willmington.
+
+A sneer was to be traced on the rude lineaments of every pirate’s face,
+when this answer was given.
+
+“Look up there, man,” said the captain, as he pointed to the black flag
+that was floating gracefully from the half lowered gaff, “while that
+flies there, there is no law on board this schooner save mine and great
+Nature’s. Look around you, on the right and on the left, you see those
+who know no other laws but these two, and who are ready to enforce
+them. Look still farther around, you see but a waste of water, with
+no tribunals at hand, in which complaints may be heard, or by which
+grievances may be redressed. Place no hope, therefore, on ‘the laws of
+the land.’ Have you any thing more pertinent to urge?”
+
+“I have to request,” replied Willmington, still more embarrassed, “to be
+landed with your other captives, that is all.”
+
+“Is that all?” coolly observed the captain; then turning to his men, he
+said, “my men, you have heard my accusation against this man. He seems
+unable to defend and justify himself. It is my intention to punish him
+by making him suffer that which I have had myself to undergo. Be you
+witnesses that I have given him a fair and open trial.”
+
+“Bravo, bravo!” ran in deep, but subdued tones along the ranks of the
+pirates.
+
+“Listen to your sentence, James Willmington,” continued the captain, “you
+are guilty, in my opinion, of the greatest crime which an individual, as
+a man and a father, can commit. You have prostituted the law of nature
+to your own selfish gratification, perjured yourself, and given that
+life for which you neglected to provide and care. I have afforded you
+an opportunity of showing yourself innocent—if you could—of this grave
+charge. You have not been able to do so. The punishment I design you is
+this: you will be cast adrift on the ocean; you will have an empty cask
+to rest upon; you refused me bread—I refuse you shelter on board of my
+schooner; you are guilty of what we all on board this vessel abhor; you
+are, therefore, no proper companion for us, and you must be thrust forth
+from among us. I shall, however, take care that you should survive as
+long as possible, that you may be the more able to realize the pangs of
+that famine which I endured by your heartlessness. In two hour’s time
+the sentence shall be executed. Prepare to meet your Creator. Lead him
+hence.”
+
+“Good God,” now cried the prisoner, his eyes seeming to be about to fall
+from their sockets with fear, as the full extent and reality of his
+danger, now clearly struck him, “good God, surely you do not mean to
+murder me: have mercy on me, I beseech you.”
+
+The captain did not raise his eyes from a paper which he had taken
+from the breast of his uniform, and which he was then reading. “But,”
+continued the prisoner, as the pirates prepared to drag him away,
+“remember, I am your father, you owe me honour and respect—how dare you,
+raise your hand against your parent?”
+
+The captain at these words suddenly raised his head, and cast an angry
+and steadfast look on the prisoner, and after the lapse of a few seconds,
+during which he kept his eyes still rivetted on him, he said, with biting
+scorn—
+
+“Remember that you are my father! you ought to ask me to forget it. It
+is because I remember you are my father that I shall now prepare for you
+your just measure of suffering. It is very probable you never expected to
+be called one day to account by the son who was the fruit of a delightful
+indulgence, but which was to be considered no longer than during the
+short space which it afforded you pleasure. Very little do you, and such
+as you think, when in the turpitude of your perjured souls, you delude
+the confiding and helpless things who sin from too great a confidence in
+your protestations of honor, or rather, are too innocent to detect your
+falsehoods, that the beings to whom you may give life are things who
+like yourselves may possess feelings, and who may one day seek to avenge
+the treachery practised on their mothers. Selfish man! your selfishness
+pursues you at the very moment when your existence is in all probability
+about to end. You crouched to me, and sought to propitiate me by a show
+of paternal sensibility, when you saw me enter with my friends the cabin
+where you stood writhing in your terror, and to-day you again remind
+me that I am your son. Now your paternal feelings are very strong, and
+your memory remarkably faithful when you expect to save your life by
+remembering me. But you, of course, recollected nothing of me, nor were
+you so feelingly sentimental when I once wrote to you for the mite, which
+you would never have missed from your treasures. Your selfish artifice
+shall avail you nothing here. In two hours, as I have said, you will be
+cast adrift on the ocean. Men, lead him away.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    “O Lord—me thought what pain it was to drown!”
+
+                                     RICHARD III.
+
+
+Willmington was taken away and confined to the part of the schooner in
+which he had been kept since his arrival on board. The crew remained
+in profound silence, in the same order, and the captain was silently
+studying the paper which he had in his hand, and from the perusal of
+which he had a little before raised his head to address the prisoner.
+
+After the lapse of a few moments, he handed it to Lorenzo, and requested
+him to have a machine made according to the plan set forth in it.
+
+The chief officer bowed, and took it to the officer of the watch. The
+captain then slowly rose, cast a look around him on the ocean and at the
+prize-ship, then descended the cabin steps.
+
+The men dispersed, and, in a short time, the deck remained in the
+occupation of those only whose duty it was to keep watch at that time.
+
+At the bows of the schooner a carpenter was now to be seen busy at work.
+He was labouring in the greatest haste. Before him was a plan, and a
+young officer, the one in command, might be observed now and then to
+leave the sacred boards of the after-deck, and walk forward to inspect
+the thing that the man was constructing.
+
+Two hours had now elapsed since the captain had passed sentence on the
+prisoner, and the time had now arrived to execute it.
+
+The moments that completed the two hours had scarcely fled, before
+Lorenzo came on deck. He proceeded immediately to inspect the machine
+which he had ordered to be made, in obedience to the commands he had
+received.
+
+The captain himself, a short time afterwards, made his appearance. The
+machine was ordered to be brought to the gangway, where he carefully
+examined it. It was made of an empty cask, to which something like the
+keel of a ship was attached. This appendage was covered with heavy sheets
+of lead, for the apparent purpose of being made to keep downwards, and so
+to prevent the machine from rolling over. The upper part was provided
+with a wooden seat, made in the shape of a Spanish saddle, the bows of
+which rose very high, and were crowned with a piece of flat board, which
+seemed intended to answer the purpose of a shelf.
+
+When the captain had examined this machine, he ordered that a few
+biscuits should be secured on the shelf above mentioned, and, at the same
+time, commanded the prisoner to be led forth.
+
+In the mean time, the deck had become again crowded, for every one
+knew what would take place at the end of the two hours, which had just
+expired. But the pirates were not now drawn up in the same order as
+before. They crowded in the foremost part of the vessel, some lounged on
+the bulwarks, others bent over the riggings, watching, in moody calmness,
+what was going on. No one dared assist in the preparations except those
+who formed the watch of the hour. The captive priest, also, with his
+beautiful ward, stood leaning on the taffrail of the schooner, isolated,
+as it were, amidst the many that were on board the vessel.
+
+The prisoner was brought forward to the gangway. He was haggard and worn:
+the feelings of the two hours which intervened between him and that doom,
+which was worse than death, concentrated as they were into the intensest
+agony, preyed like gnawing worms upon his body.
+
+“Hear my last prayer, for mercy’s sake!” he cried, with passion, to the
+captain, as he threw himself at his feet, “oh! spare me this dreadful
+death; give me but life, and I shall give you all I have.—Can you treat
+your father in this manner? Oh, my son—my good son—my beloved son! I
+shall give you all my property—if—”
+
+“Bind his arms,” said the captain.
+
+The arms of the prisoner were immediately seized; he resisted madly and
+violently, and, in the strength of desperation, he shook off the first
+pirate that attempted to lay hands on him. But he was quickly mastered,
+and his arms were tightly tied with small cord behind his back. The
+machine was now supported perpendicularly, and it resembled, as it stood
+in that position, a horse ready saddled.
+
+The prisoner became still more agitated and terror-stricken when his arms
+were bound, and his cries were more piteous and heart-rending.
+
+“Oh! ask mercy for me, my men,” he cried, imploringly, to the pirates
+around him, whose coolness seemed to mock his wretchedness, “I shall make
+you all rich; do not—do not throw me into the sea. Holy father, holy
+father,” looking towards the priest, “you may succeed, you may move him,
+you may curse him; ask mercy for me—do not let me be drowned.”
+
+“Put him on,” the captain said.
+
+The wretched man was lifted bodily, and laid astride upon the cask.
+
+“Curses on you! do not—do not, for your soul’s sake, murder me,” he
+cried, and struggled like those who alone can struggle who see death
+before them.
+
+But it was of no avail. The pirates seized his legs, and tied them
+tightly underneath the cask, so that the miserable prisoner had not the
+power of making any other movements except that of inclining his body a
+little backwards and forwards.
+
+“Fix the tackles.” The tackles were adjusted.
+
+“Fiends! hell hounds,” he yelled out, as the first strain of the ropes
+was felt on the cask, and laid hold of the pirate that was next to him
+with his teeth—another strain, and he held between his teeth a shred of
+the man’s woollen shirt.
+
+The cask was hoisted up, to be let down overboard. The cries of the fated
+Willmington increased still more—he roared franticly. The cask with the
+prisoner balanced between the masts of the schooner for a moment, in
+cruel suspense, while not a sound was to be heard, except his hoarse,
+pitiful, and moving cries.
+
+The pirates looked on with sullen calmness; the captain was the same
+imperturbable man. But the priest could not withstand this moving scene;
+he threw himself at the captain’s feet, and earnestly begged him to show
+mercy:—“mercy,” he added, “that was the most acceptable offering to
+heaven.”
+
+“Good priest,” answered the captain, “if you can soothe the end of that
+wretched being, do so. But pray not to me, I never change.”
+
+Slowly—slowly—slowly—the cask, with its living rider, who was shrieking
+like the damned, was lowered: it reached the water: the tackles were
+unfastened, and away, away, it slowly floated on the long high waves that
+bore it rapidly from the schooner.
+
+The roars and cries of the prisoner rang over the silent sea. Every eye
+was rivetted in awful intentness on the cask and its burthen. The captain
+alone was turned away from the direction where his father lay pinioned on
+a cask at the mercy of the winds and waves. He cast but one glance on the
+cask as it was lowered into the sea, and never looked at it again.
+
+Indifference—indifference, as cold and as icy as death, indifference,
+such as nature can admit but only when every fibre of feeling is burnt
+into hard callousness by the searing iron of some deep unpardonable
+offence, had wrapped its clammy folds around his heart.
+
+Reader, have you ever felt the absorbing love that sank and merged
+your existence into that of a cherished object, and have you ever felt
+the gall of sneering ridicule from her? If you have, then you know the
+feeling that possessed the pirate captain. Have you ever demanded bread
+from a parent whom you may have loved to excess and received a stone, or
+have you ever asked water from the author of your existence and received
+poison? Then you can fancy the captain’s sentiments, or have you ever,
+while straining your industry and energy to the utmost, been ground down
+to misery and despair by him from whom nature taught you to expect love
+and protection, while he himself was rioting in profuse abundance? if you
+have, and we trust heaven has always preserved you from such a bitter
+experience, you can then realize the feeling which existed in the bosom
+of the pirate captain.
+
+“Make sail,” the captain said to the officer of the watch, after he had
+cast a glance on the horizon.
+
+The schooner which, during all this time, was lying to the wind under
+only a half of her mainsail and jib, was immediately put under the press
+of all her sails. She had shot a-head for some yards, when the captain
+gave orders to change the course.
+
+“Ready about.”
+
+“Ready about,” was echoed forwards in the firm disciplined tones of the
+sailors.
+
+“Hard a-lee.”
+
+“Hard a-lee,” the man at the helm answered.
+
+The helm was put down, and the long snake-like schooner bore up
+gracefully to the wind, the sails fluttered for a moment, and she leaned
+smoothly on the other tack.
+
+Like a dolphin she cut through the water; the spray played about her
+bows, and the waves barely touched her sides as she glided through them.
+
+A signal had been made to the prize-ship, and she, too, was put under
+full sail.
+
+Away—away—the schooner went, and left far, far behind, the wretched being
+who had been thrown overboard. He could scarcely now be seen, it was but
+when the cask rose and fell on the crest of the heaving billows that
+a glimpse could be had of him. But his cries still reached the flying
+schooner. They gradually grew fainter and fainter; then they came like
+the intermittent moans of agony, low, and few, and far between, and then
+they were heard no more.
+
+The captain gave his orders to the officer on duty to steer a certain
+course and then left the deck.
+
+The day had by this time passed, and the fleeting twilight of the
+tropics was yielding to the darkness of night. The crew of the schooner
+betook themselves to their respective quarters. But the priest and his
+ward still lingered on the deck. Their strained eyes were fixed in the
+direction where the cask and its load had disappeared, and fancied they
+saw, every moment, the unfortunate Willmington rise, now and then, in the
+dim crepuscule. But they watched in vain, and saw not what they imagined
+they did. Far, far out of sight was the cask already borne, and Heaven
+only knew whether the living being, that rode upon it, still drew the
+breath of life.
+
+Saddened by the event of the day, they at length, in melancholy silence,
+left the deck, when the darkness had increased and had deprived them of
+the power of continuing their useless watch. Night, then, closed over
+the Black Schooner; and the faint ripplings of the water as she glided
+through, were the only sounds that might fall on the listening ear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+    “Say that upon the altar of her beauty
+    You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart.”
+
+                             TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
+
+
+Silence reigned over the schooner. The pirates had retired to their
+hammocks, and all, except the men of the watch, were wrapped in sleep.
+
+In his cabin, in the centre of the vessel, Lorenzo sat alone and pensive.
+The hour when he ought to have betaken himself to his berth had already
+long passed, but he still sat in his chair at the head of the table that
+stood in the middle of his cabin. He was still dressed in his uniform,
+nor were his arms even removed from the sash that bore them.
+
+He sat gazing silently on the lamp which burnt suspended from the deck.
+One would have imagined he was in deep contemplation of that vessel,
+if the vagueness observable in the fixed gaze of his eye, did not
+too plainly tell that the subject of his thoughts, the object of his
+contemplation was not the thing which was at that moment before him, but
+some other which was in his mind.
+
+The flying hours passed: Lorenzo was still sitting in his chair in the
+same absorbed contemplation. Now a placid smile would play over his
+features, now they would be locked in the fiercest sternness. There
+seemed to be in him at that moment a conflict of emotions deep and
+violent.
+
+At last, as if he had taken a final resolution, “I shall do it!” he
+exclaimed. He then drew from a desk materials for writing and penned a
+letter.
+
+When this was done, he took off his boots, put on his slippers, and
+enveloped himself in his thick boat cloak.
+
+He then cautiously opened the door of his cabin, in which the light was
+carefully extinguished, and went out.
+
+He proceeded down the long passage which led to the captain’s quarters,
+and in which opened a door that led to the cabins occupied by the priest
+and his beautiful ward.
+
+Stealthily and quietly Lorenzo moved down the passage; a lamp faintly
+burnt at some distance from the entrance to the captain’s cabin, and
+by its dim light might be seen the dark outlines of the men who, at
+intermediate distances, guarded the corridor.
+
+Lorenzo could not but feel some alarm when his eyes fell upon those tall
+forms, for he was conscious that he was treading on forbidden ground,
+where, to be found without the ring—the usual passport—was instant death.
+Such was the rigour of the discipline in which alone suspicion could hope
+to find security.
+
+It is true he was not within the circle of the captain’s quarters, but,
+nevertheless, his being discovered in the passage at that time of night,
+and in such guise, would lead to consequences equally as fatal, as if he
+had trespassed on interdicted ground.
+
+His careful concealment of his person, and the change of his boots, would
+have worn such an aspect of conspiracy in the eyes of his superior, that
+nothing could have been strong enough to blot out the distrust which the
+latter would ever afterwards entertain of him, if even the consideration
+of his services and old friendship should have proved strong enough to
+induce the captain to spare his life.
+
+The thoughts rushed in an instant on the officer as he stood for a moment
+looking at the erect and steady sentinel at the end of the passage before
+him.
+
+They fell on him with all the weight and dreadful truthfulness which
+they possessed. He remained for a moment irresolute, but at length the
+daring spirit which his mode of life had fostered, and that indescribable
+feeling people call love, but which is as incomprehensible as it is
+omnipotent in its influence, nerved him against the danger which he
+apprehended, and he took two or three steps forwards with the same
+caution with which he had come into the passage. But he had gone only a
+few steps when he saw that the attention of the sentinel was drawn in
+his direction. The latter had changed his straightforward look and was
+seemingly endeavouring to discover some object which had attracted his
+notice up the passage.
+
+Lorenzo stood—his worst fears he thought were about to be realized. He
+saw at once the certainty of his being detected, and the consequences of
+that pressed on his mind.
+
+The thought, too, which always afflicts ingenuous minds, when they are
+conscious that they are not culpable of an offence from which they
+instinctively recoil with horror, but with which circumstances conspire
+to charge them, fell heavily and miserably upon him.
+
+The most desperately situated always hope—there is a hope almost in
+despondency itself; Lorenzo still hoped, in spite of the peril before
+him, that he would escape discovery. He knew that he could not be
+seen by the sentinel in the darkness of the passage, and expected that
+the latter would turn away, when he found that nothing was to be seen.
+Lorenzo, therefore, remained quietly where he was. The sentinel continued
+to gaze earnestly up the passage, and at last came out of his niche, and
+began to walk straightway towards Lorenzo.
+
+“I am lost,” the officer said to himself, and at once made up his mind
+to stay where he was and surrender to the sentinel. The man came towards
+him, but there was such indecision in his walk, that the officer could
+not fail to perceive, at once, that the man on duty was only taking a
+walk to see if there really was any one in the passage, without being
+actually certain of his presence.
+
+“There may be a chance of escape, yet,” he said to himself, and drew
+himself closely up against the side of the passage.
+
+As the sentinel approached, his anxiety increased. The sentinel drew
+nearer and nearer: the officer drew himself up closely—and more closely;
+the sentinel was now but a few steps from him, he pressed still more
+closely on the side. Gently it yielded, and Lorenzo caught himself as he
+was just falling in the inside of a cabin.
+
+With wonderful presence of mind, he closed the little door that had
+admitted him, and heard the heavy footsteps of the sentinel as he passed
+it on the outside.
+
+With breathless anxiety he listened to the steps; he heard them diminish
+until the sentinel had arrived at the extreme end of the passage, and
+heard them grow more and more distinct as he returned at the same
+leisurely pace.
+
+Again and again the man on duty passed his door; it was, therefore,
+clear that he had not been discovered; but, as his anxiety about the man
+outside diminished, new fears arose with regard to the place in which he
+found himself. How was it that the door of that cabin had been left open,
+when such regularity usually existed on board the schooner? Was there any
+one at the time in the cabin? if so, the same danger that threatened him
+outside would meet him within: for self-preservation had taught every
+officer, and every sailor of the Black Schooner, that their safety could
+consist only in the strict observance of its laws in their own persons,
+and the rigorous enforcement of them in others. Every one seemed to know,
+instinctively, that the chain which was so variously formed, could be
+preserved only by a careful protection of each particular link. Lorenzo
+knew if any one was in the cabin, and if he were there seen under such
+circumstances, the person would make it a point of duty to report it to
+the chief. His alarm, therefore, which had partly subsided, grew again
+upon him. He remained in the deepest silence and attention, listening to
+the steps of the sentinel outside, who was still patroling the passage
+from his niche to its extreme end.
+
+He endeavoured, also, to listen for the breathing of any one that might
+be in the cabin, for he wisely concluded, that if any person was there,
+he must assuredly be asleep, or else he should have heard him when he
+accidentally tumbled in. But he heard nothing.
+
+His anxiety, however, was not satisfied. He crept softly by the bed, and
+listened again, but still he could hear nothing; he passed his hand over
+the narrow berth, but there was no one there.
+
+“Ah! I see,” the officer said to himself, “it is the cabin of José.”
+
+It was the cabin of the officer who was then on duty, and Lorenzo
+breathed more freely; but his anxiety was soothed down for a moment only,
+for he immediately recollected that the night was already much spent,
+and that the watch on deck would shortly be relieved; his difficulty was
+thus in no manner removed. He reflected for some time, and concluded, in
+a sort of despair, that fate was determined to ruin him, and he calmly
+yielded himself up to the unfortunate destiny which seemed to pursue him
+that luckless night.
+
+He calculated that within half an hour’s time the watch of José would
+have expired, and that he should surely be discovered when that officer
+came down to his cabin. There might be a chance—though a desperate
+one—of escaping the certain detection of the sentinel outside, although
+suspicion would inevitably be raised: but that was the less of the two
+evils that beset him. He resolved, accordingly, to wait until the watch
+on deck should be near expiration, and then to make a desperate effort to
+escape from his dangerous position.
+
+He remained, then, standing by the door, on the outside of which the
+measured footsteps of the guard were still heard. The time passed away,
+and the sentinel still walked the passage. The watch was nearly expired
+and he was there still.
+
+“All is lost,” Lorenzo said to himself, and then he drew up his cloak
+around him in that resolute manner that indicates the determination
+which, from its extremeness, becomes the kindred of despair; as he drew
+his cloak around him, something fell from it: it was the letter which
+he had written. He felt about for it in the dark until it was found.
+It seemed to revive the feelings which had begun to slumber under the
+absorbing solicitude for his own safety.
+
+“Shall I have put myself in danger and still not succeed in sending
+this?” thought he, “what advantage do we derive from all our
+acquirements, our high and glorious reputations, our friendships, our
+exposures, and our perils?”—he hastily reasoned—“if we are driven by the
+necessity of preserving these to sacrifice the happiness which we fondly
+hope to realize from them? away vain and timid thoughts—I will hazard
+everything; but, happen what may, I shall send this.”
+
+Having come to this resolution, Lorenzo waited until the sentinel had
+arrived at the head of the passage, and had, on his return to his niche,
+passed the door of the cabin in which he was concealed: he then opened it
+softly, and stepped into the passage: and, gathering himself up closely
+under its side, began to retire with as much caution as he had come in.
+He kept his eyes all the while fixed on the sentinel or his shadow, so
+that he might easily anticipate his movements, in case he was discovered.
+
+He had reached the top of the large passage, and was about to take the
+one which led to his own apartments, when the footsteps ceased, and the
+man drew himself up as before in his niche. It was evident that whatever
+suspicions he may have entertained at first had now entirely vanished,
+and that the greater part of the continued walk which he took, was
+intended more for his own recreation than for the interception of any one
+who he might have suspected was trespassing on the circle of his guard,
+for he seemed to be entirely given up to his own reflections. Lorenzo
+stopped when he saw this; he mused for a moment, but his resolution was
+not long in being taken. He bent himself on his knees and hands, and
+crept down the passage again; he stopped several times to study the
+movements of the sentinel, all which times he seemed to be the more
+assured of his safety; he crept in this manner until he reached a certain
+door, and was now but a few yards from the man on duty. The latter seemed
+still absorbed in his own thoughts; Lorenzo drew the letter from his
+breast, and pushed it under the door. As he supported himself on one
+hand, in doing so, the vessel lurched, and the hand holding the letter
+struck against the door. The sentinel raised his head for a moment, but,
+concluding that it was the inmate of the cabin who had struck by accident
+against the partition, he relapsed into his meditative state.
+
+Lorenzo drew himself carefully back in the same manner as he had gone
+forwards. When he got to the head of the passage, he jumped on his feet
+and hastened to his own cabin.
+
+He had scarcely shut the door, when he heard the heavy footsteps of
+the officer, who had now been relieved, on the companion stairs as he
+descended to his cabin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+    “One half of me is yours, the other half yours—
+    Mine own I would say, but if mine then yours
+    And so all yours.”
+
+                                MERCHANT OF VENICE.
+
+
+On the next morning when Agnes—by that name the priest called her—the
+fair captive, was going towards the door of the cabin which was given
+up to her use, she beheld a sealed letter at her feet. After her first
+surprise had somewhat lessened, she remained standing for a time in deep
+reflection over it, endeavouring to conjecture whose it might be, to
+whom addressed, and what could be its purport. At last, being unable to
+restrain her impulse of curiosity, she took it up and saw that it was for
+her. But the superscription was in the handwriting of a man—and not that
+of her guardian.
+
+What mystery could that indicate? What could it portend?
+
+Before opening the letter, the beautiful young lady remained for a long
+time gazing on it, while at the same time she was led away into a train
+of strange and complicated thoughts. Could that letter be, she inquired
+of herself, the forerunner of some attempt that the pirate captain
+contemplated against her safety and honor? She trembled at the thought:
+she recollected that among the outrages and ravaging descents of the
+Boucaneers, their cold-blooded cruelties upon the sex were not the least
+of their horrible deeds; and should this captain now design to add her
+to the multitude of those of her condition, who had been sacrificed to
+the profligacy of similarly lawless men?... It is true, up to that time,
+she had been treated with an amount of respect and kindness that could
+not be exceeded even by the fastidious solicitude of the most polite, or
+by the benevolence of the most virtuous; and this captain seemed to be
+somewhat different from the heartless freebooters of whom she had heard:
+but might he not carry under that stern, and apparently callous exterior,
+designs which would be the more to be feared as they should be the more
+premeditated. If so, what chance had she of resisting him? Words would
+not prevail with him; entreaties could have no effect on him; for she had
+seen him send his own father adrift on a cask on the wide ocean, and
+every thing, and every one on board of that schooner seemed to give way
+to him and sink under his will: what could move him,—what protect her?
+
+A blush suffused her beautiful face. She was inclined to fancy that there
+might be one on board who would protect her. But yet they were both
+pirates, and why should she expect that they should incur one another’s
+displeasure and enmity for her sake—an unfortunate captive. But although
+Agnes feared, still there was hope in her. Something told her, perhaps
+her own heart, that mysterious and unerring index of the truth, that he
+who had been so attentive to her from the moment when she set foot on
+board the schooner—that Lorenzo would defend her.
+
+There is a mystery of mind, a language of thought, and a sympathy of
+soul, for which the greatest philosophers are still unable to account.
+There is that which conveys from the loving to the loved a mute and
+silent intelligence: there is that in us which converses without being
+heard, which communicates without being seen, and even while the tongue
+is tied and the eye is closed, tells to those we love of the sentiment
+that we foster and cherish in our breast. The mind of the young lady
+told her that Lorenzo would protect her innocence and honor, and she was
+somewhat calmed by this assurance, however slight and ungrounded, a more
+sceptical thinker would no doubt have considered it. Escaping in this
+manner from these unpleasant and dark thoughts that alarmed her, she was
+immediately recalled to herself, and proceeded to open the letter. She
+hastily and eagerly glanced over it, raised her head for a time, and then
+read, and read, and read again.
+
+The letter was this:—
+
+    “Lady, though I am a pirate, recoil not from me. I am sensible
+    to the feelings of honor, and need not be feared by any lady;
+    in the uprightness of my soul I have dared to love you; deign
+    to cast but one look on me, and let me believe I may hope.
+
+                                                           LORENZO.”
+
+Agnes read this over and over again in nervous trepidation, then folded
+it, and put it by.
+
+She was a victim to strong contending emotions. She felt she knew not
+what for Lorenzo, but he was a pirate. She could not imagine that she
+loved: no, she did not; but she was grateful to the man as she had always
+seen him, gentle and kind, and apparently unstained by any crime: but she
+recoiled from the _pirate_. It would appear that even her gratitude could
+not succeed in mantling the hideousness of that name. Yet he was always
+so respectful to her! Could a pirate at heart be so? And if he were a
+pirate, such as she had heard those men were, could he write to her in
+that manner? No, it could not be. And joy glistened in her face as she
+seemed to congratulate herself on having come to a conclusion that was so
+favourable to Lorenzo.
+
+Upon this she seemed to fall into an agreeable reverie: pleasure seemed
+to play on her face, as she thought she had successfully washed away the
+stain from the man on which her sentiments had already been anchored.
+Distressing thoughts, however, will force themselves on the happiest
+moments of our existence. At the height of her self-gratulation, the idea
+of the pirate again occurred.
+
+“But who is he?” she inquiringly muttered, “what is he—a—? Oh! no, I
+cannot, I will not, I must not think of him,” and she burst into a
+flood of tears. She wept and wept: now roused herself to extraordinary
+firmness, and resolutely dried her tears, but it was to let them flow in
+larger and fuller currents a moment after.
+
+She was weeping over the ruined hopes of her own feelings:—of her first
+love.
+
+Agnes had been born and brought up in the seclusion which necessarily
+surrounds a residence in the West Indies. She had seen but few persons
+besides the neighbours that had their plantations in the vicinity
+of her father’s estate. She had never met any one on whom she could
+pour out the love that a tropical nature had lavished upon her. Her
+feelings at the moment when she got into the position which led to her
+meeting with Lorenzo were strong and fresh, and were in that state in
+which the mysterious law of human sociality required, that they should
+find an object on which they could alight and rest. They had alighted
+on Lorenzo—not by reasoning—not by calculation. They had alighted on
+Lorenzo, because they had alighted on him. Her feelings had flown and
+rested upon him, either independently of her volition, or so closely
+united with it, that it was not possible to say whether she loved,
+because she chose to love, or whether she loved because she found herself
+loving.
+
+Such was the nature of her love: but if nature had implanted in her,
+feelings that were so strong, pure, and good, education had taught her
+that to control them was also necessary. She reflected that, above all
+instances, that was the one in which she required all the power that she
+might possess to restrain herself; for common prudence itself, unassisted
+by the imparted precepts of propriety, was sufficient to make her careful
+how she fostered the feelings, which had already risen in her breast.
+
+Lorenzo was a stranger to her and hers, and the little that was known
+of him was disadvantageous to him, for it consisted of the certainty
+that he was a pirate—an outcast of human society. That was a sufficient
+consideration, and when the full force of it fell on the mind of the
+beautiful girl, she wept. She wept the tears that are the bitterest—the
+tears that flow when we are called away, by the dictatorial voice of
+principle and duty, from the pursuit of some fond object on which all the
+feelings of our nature are concentrated, and which we had complacently
+looked upon as the magnet of our happiness. On the one side she had her
+will and her affections; on the other she had the danger of an ignorance
+which was broken only by that which made it still more horrible.
+
+Like one, therefore, who is resigned to death, from the sheer insipidity
+of disappointed life, Agnes sat weeping in her cabin.
+
+The tears fell not with the vigour of energetic sorrow, such as when the
+soul concentrates her strength to mourn away with one effort some heavy
+grief, but they dropped with the languor of oversettling despondency,
+such as when even the full tide of anguish cannot wash away the rooted
+sorrow.
+
+She was in this condition, when the priest knocked at her door and
+entered.
+
+“Was she ill?” the good father inquired, “she had remained so long in her
+cabin that morning?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Ah! but you are weeping: cheer up, child; come, come, dry those tears:
+you are, I see, thinking of home. Yes: there is a great difference
+between your good father’s house and this vessel; but do not give way to
+sorrow, my child, we must be thankful to Providence for having delivered
+us from the death and dishonour which, it is likely, would have overtaken
+us if we had fallen into other hands, and we must not repine at its
+dispensations in any instance: cheer up. Besides, I have just been told
+to get ready to go ashore; they will put us on land soon, I suppose,
+although I cannot see it as yet myself.”
+
+Agnes saw very clearly that the good father had mistaken the cause of
+her grief, and was not a little glad to observe that he had so readily
+attributed it to the reminiscences of home. She remained silent. But the
+priest had only increased her embarrassment of mind, by the news which he
+brought, and which, he considered, as indeed he himself had felt them to
+be, the most joyful; for she learnt by his report that she was to leave
+the schooner: she was glad, and, at the same time, she was sorry.
+
+She was naturally glad to be again restored to safety, and to revisit
+that home with its dear ones from which she was so nearly torn away for
+ever: and she was sorry to leave the schooner, because her heart had
+already begun to hover about it.
+
+Which of the two feelings was the greater; judge for yourself reader.
+
+Duty, however, and even safety called her away, and she must obey.
+
+“When shall we go from this—when shall we be landed, I mean?” she
+inquired of the priest.
+
+“I do not know exactly, child, but they told me to be prepared. But you
+have not, as yet, tasted food to-day; they have brought our morning meal:
+I have waited for you long,—come in and take some nourishment.”
+
+Agnes briefly excused herself from accepting the kind invitation of the
+priest.
+
+“She was not absolutely ill,” she said, “but certain thoughts had put her
+in a melancholy mood, and she felt no desire for food.”
+
+She insisted, at the same time, on his going to take his morning repast.
+
+He hesitated for some time to leave her, but was, at length, prevailed
+upon to go, by her persisting assurances that she was not ill.
+
+Left to herself, the innocent girl gave vent again to her tears; but she
+had not now any opportunity to indulge her feelings, for she was soon
+aroused from her sorrow by the re-appearance of the priest who invited
+her to go on deck.
+
+They went up together.
+
+The long schooner was now lying on the waves like some fish, that had
+concentrated its strength for a dart, waiting for its prey. She rose and
+sank with the waves, as she lay to the wind, like something that a more
+powerful hand than that of man had made to inhabit the element on which
+she so familiarly floated.
+
+The usual silence reigned; every man of the watch stood mute and
+motionless at his station; the captain himself stood by the steersman
+with his arms folded across his breast.
+
+The schooner had been thrown in the wind, to wait for the prize ship
+which was still at a considerable distance, but which was approaching
+fast under the press of her extensive sails.
+
+She was, as we have said before, a fast sailer, but few vessels could
+keep up with the Black Schooner.
+
+When the two vessels had set sail together from that part where they
+had remained since the fight and the capture, it was found necessary to
+reduce from time to time the sails of the schooner that the ship might
+be always kept within sight. Notwithstanding this, however, the former
+had imperceptibly outreached and distanced the latter, and it was now
+found necessary to put her in the wind, in order to allow time for the
+ship to come up.
+
+Notwithstanding the information that they would be landed that day, the
+priest and Agnes could not see any preparations which might indicate such
+a thing. Far, however, to the east, land might be seen, high and blue,
+and like a passing cloud in the fleecy atmosphere of the tropics; still
+no boats were as yet got ready, and not an order was given. In course of
+time the ship drew nearer and nearer, until she had arrived within but a
+few yards of the schooner, when she was brought up heavily to the wind;
+her heavy canvass flapped, the waves broke on her huge bows, and she lay
+like a sluggish whale.
+
+A boat was launched from the schooner and was despatched with a number of
+men on board the ship. After the lapse of a few moments, the cutter of
+the ship was launched, and was forthwith rigged out, and the sails were
+quickly bent. When this was done she was sailed up to the schooner, where
+provision to last for three days was put into her, and she stood ready
+for sea.
+
+Orders were now given for the strangers to come forward and embark.
+
+Lorenzo, who had been in his cabin the whole of the morning, now came on
+deck. His appearance was not the same as it was wont to be. On his manly
+brow sat gloomy care and anxiety, and there was even something fierce in
+the expression of his lips. There was anxiety, deep anxiety, furrowed in
+his looks, but there were also marks of a deeper and sterner feeling.
+
+When he came on deck, Agnes and her guardian were standing almost
+opposite the captain, on the starboard side of the vessel.
+
+He saw them, but his eyes could not rest on them. Was he bashful?—was
+he afraid to meet the looks of a frail old man, and the timid glances
+of a helpless maiden?—he who had encountered enemies that every human
+passion had excited and embittered against him?—he whose daily life was
+a continuous challenge to man, to the powers that ruled the earth, and
+to the controlless element itself which he had made his home? No, he
+was afraid of himself: he was afraid of his pride. He had never placed
+himself before in a position to meet either slight or insult. He expected
+nothing from humanity, and he never placed himself in a way to be the
+object of its kindness or beneficence. But love—love—the leveller—had
+now overcome him: he had declared his feeling to a girl, he had, as he
+fancied, humbled himself, by putting himself in her power, and his pride
+was completely at her mercy. He therefore feared to look at her, lest in
+her looks he might read that which was—oh! more horrible than anything
+else to his nature—slight, indifference, or contempt. He had had a fierce
+struggle with himself at first to write the letter which he had put into
+the cabin of Agnes.
+
+But he had no sooner done so than he repented of his act. The mastery
+that love had gained over pride was but temporary, it soon ceased, and
+he was left to be crushed under the tyranny of that unrelenting feeling.
+How many conflicts such as Lorenzo experienced, are there not? How many
+hearts that nature formed but to be united and to swell and beat but in
+the community of each other, have shrunk, withered, and dried away in
+cold and comfortless solitude, because the love of another could not
+over-ride the fear of a risk, or an exposure of the love of one’s self!
+How many a one has traversed this beautiful world, and moved on it as on
+the barren bareness of a desert land, with no congenial soul to enhance
+the pleasures of existence by its participation, or to diminish its
+miseries by its sympathy, because pride forbad him to disclose to some
+loving heart how much happiness it was in its power to administer.
+
+These feelings, on the part of Lorenzo, did not arise from any low
+conceit that he entertained for himself: nor were they the emanation of
+that vulgar selfishness that concentrates existence, the capacity of
+possessing feelings, the desire of happiness, in one’s single self, and
+there traces out their bournes and limits; nor did they spring from the
+senseless and stupid vanity that bolsters itself up in all the “pomp
+and circumstance” of its full-fed ignorance. No: in the sturdy and the
+bold, such feelings do not, cannot exist. It was something better—nobler;
+something that could exist and thrive only in the community of exalted
+thoughts, and delicate sensibilities. It was a sensitive self-respect.
+
+Lorenzo approached the pirate captain, and saluted him. The latter
+returned the salute, and, at the same time, fixed his keen eyes on his
+officer.
+
+We have already said there was something peculiar in the eyes of the
+pirate captain: there was something that seemed to penetrate the inmost
+soul, and read the mind, and see what was passing there. This power he
+used on this occasion. The deep, earnest, steady look which he fixed on
+Lorenzo seemed to overcome the latter and his eyes bent before it. When
+the captain had looked long and stedfastly at his officer, he turned
+suddenly on one side, and seemed to contemplate in the same manner, the
+fair Agnes, that stood still leaning on the taffrail of the schooner,
+with her eyes fixed on the deck.
+
+The captain had at once read in the manner of Lorenzo, that he was
+in love with the beautiful captive. His studious mind had long been
+exercised in connecting deductions and his deep knowledge of human
+actions and their springs, enabled him to trace, in one moment, the
+change which was perceptible in the appearance of his chief officer to
+its proper cause. He was at once convinced that Lorenzo loved Agnes,
+and he now looked on her with some interest. One would have said he
+was examining her in order to discover whether she was worthy of the
+affection of one whom he prized so highly.
+
+The examination lasted long, and Agnes was justly alarmed concerning the
+meaning of this scrutiny on the part of the captain.
+
+The persons to be landed were now assembled on the deck of the schooner.
+
+The captain made a sign to the master fisherman to follow him, and he
+descended the cabin steps. When he had arrived into his apartment, he
+drew from a case a pair of pistols, and, at the same time, took from his
+desk a purse of money.
+
+“Listen to me,” he said, to the master fisherman, “you have hitherto
+acquitted yourself well of that in which I have employed you, and I have
+rewarded you: now I require your further services.——I shall put you and
+the captives in a boat in a few moments. There is a young lady among
+them, together with an old priest: you must take care of her, and protect
+her. There are arms,” pointing to the pistols, “for you, the others are
+unarmed. You, with these and the assistance of your men, can defend her
+against the sailors in the boat, in case any attempt be made by them to
+use the advantage of number which they possess. There is your reward,”
+pointing to the purse.—“But, first swear by God and the Holy Virgin, that
+you will protect her at all risks.”
+
+“Senor, I swear.”
+
+“You shall be the master of the boat, and it shall be yours after you are
+all landed. Beat up to the land which you see before you from the deck.
+That is Granada. In three day’s time you will be there. Remember your
+oath. I never forget to punish.”
+
+“Senor, I shall,” answered the master fisherman, who had all the gravity
+of the people to which he belonged, half by race and wholly by feelings.
+
+The captain pointed towards the door, and the master fisherman was led
+away by one of the black boys who was in constant attendance there.
+
+When the captain had disappeared from the deck with the master fisherman,
+Lorenzo was in a manner recalled to himself. He looked about him,
+his eyes met those of Agnes. His heart leapt. That look of kindness
+penetrated his soul; the gloomy conjurings of his pride vanished before
+it, and he seemed to be in the enjoyment of something to which, up to
+that moment, he had been quite a stranger. But, may he not have mistaken
+that expression of the eyes.
+
+He looked again and again—their eyes met. Oh, no, he was not mistaken. He
+drew towards the young lady.
+
+“Madam,” he began....
+
+“Lorenzo,” sounded the deep voice of the captain, who had by this time
+come on deck again. He turned round and encountered the reproachful looks
+of his chief.
+
+He went away from the side of Agnes, seemingly ashamed of having given so
+much license to his feelings, as to have neglected discipline for their
+sake.
+
+The captives, the master fisherman, and his men were ordered into the
+cutter, and the captain himself assisted Agnes and the elderly priest
+into the boat.
+
+The boat was ready to be cast off from the schooner, when the master
+fisherman remarked that one of his men was not in it. Jack Jimmy was
+missing.
+
+“Ho! Jack Jimmy,” went round the cry.
+
+Jack Jimmy “heard it, but heeded it not.” He was standing with his arms
+crossed over his chest.
+
+“Jack Jimmy.”
+
+But he took not the slightest notice of the call. At last one of the
+sailors perceived him, and looking towards him, said,
+
+“Jack Jimmy, will you come along?”
+
+Jack Jimmy still remained silent where he stood.
+
+“Will you come along?” and laying hold of him by the arm he attempted to
+drag him along.
+
+“Massa, me no go—me no leave dis ya ’chooner as long as massa in ea,” the
+little man said, with much determination.
+
+“Will you come along sir?” and the sailor gave his ear a twitch—Jack
+Jimmy passively let himself fall on the deck, repeating—
+
+“Me no go massa.”
+
+But another sailor came up at this moment, and the two of them dragged
+him along the deck to the gang-way.
+
+“Oh! my young massa,” he cried, as he approached the captain, “let me tap
+wid you, me no want foo go, me neber leafe dis ’chooner lang you ga—oh
+let me tap wid you,” and he clasped the knees of the captain.
+
+“Let him remain,” said the latter to the men, who were approaching to
+drag him away again.
+
+“Garamighty bless you, my young massa—me neber leabe you,” and the tears
+trickled down the cheeks of the faithful little man.
+
+The cutter was cast off from the schooner, her sails were set and she
+began to move through the water on her voyage towards land.
+
+In the stern sheets sat Agnes, by the side of her guardian: her
+handkerchief was in her hands, and her head was bent over the side of
+the little vessel, and now and then she might be seen to apply the
+handkerchief to her face as if to brush away the spray of the sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+    “I gained my freedom, and immediately
+    Ran hither to your grace whom I beseech
+    To give me ample satisfaction
+    For these deep shames and great indignities.”
+
+                               COMEDY OF ERRORS.
+
+
+When the cutter was cast off, the sails of the schooner were filled,
+and she was again put on her course. Joy now seemed to beam on the
+fierce faces of the sailors, and if they had not been restrained by the
+discipline of the schooner, it was easy to perceive they would have
+vociferated their satisfaction in long and loud cheers; but, bound by the
+iron strength of her laws, they could only manifest the feelings which
+then animated them by a greater alacrity—if possible—in going through
+their duties.
+
+The captain had retired, and the command was left in the hands of
+Lorenzo. That officer stood by himself at the taffrail of the schooner,
+engrossed by his thoughts, and anxiously watching the little cutter,
+that was now labouring over the heavy seas, as she sailed gradually
+away from the schooner, and was bearing from him, perhaps, for ever,
+that being who first called forth in him the power of that tyrannical
+sentiment to which Lorenzo, like other men of a less bold and hardy
+spirit, was subjected.
+
+“She is gone from me for ever,” thought the officer, “and has left me
+scarcely a hope. Perhaps, yes—no, she will try to forget the pirate.”
+
+Lorenzo strode gloomily away from the taffrail a victim to a multitude
+of different sentiments, among which the feelings of love, and those
+of pride in particular, fiercely contended for the ascendant. He could
+not contemplate a slight. To himself he was ever honorable, beyond the
+stigma which the world would cast upon him on account of his present
+condition, and even his love could scarcely move him to forgive one that
+he might imagine deemed him debased by the position which he occupied;
+he turned away, therefore, from the direction in which the cutter lay,
+and endeavoured to call forth different thoughts by the study of a chart
+which was lying on the binnacle.
+
+The Black Schooner was kept in the same course for two days.
+
+On the third morning, the island of St. Thomas’ appeared. It lay far to
+leeward, and stretched under the thin clouds, like the blue outline of
+some great slate mountain. The schooner was again thrown in the wind.
+The captain, who had exchanged his uniform for a suit of plain clothes,
+now went on board the prize ship, and was attended by Jack Jimmy, who
+had been permitted to take his place with the two boys who usually
+waited on him. The greater part of the schooner’s sails were taken in,
+and arrangements were made for keeping her to the wind, until the return
+of the captain. The ship was now steered for St. Thomas’, and her large
+sails filled with the morning breeze. She rapidly approached the little
+island, which the policy and wisdom of the Danish government have made
+the Tyre of the West Indies. The English ensign was hoisted, and the
+ship entered the little narrow harbour which affords a scanty shelter to
+the numerous vessels that traffic draws to the place. At that moment it
+was crowded with hundreds of vessels, as different in their appearance
+as the various parts the world from which they came. There might be
+seen the heavy Dutch galiotte, with its crescent form and huge clumsy
+proportions; the sprightly Frenchman, with its light fantastic spars and
+long low hull; the Yankee clipper, with its tapering masts and snow-white
+sails; the Mediterranean faluchas, the sharp schooners from Curaço, and
+the neighbouring Spanish coasts; all these seemed drawn together for
+the purpose of commerce, and numerous sailors were to be seen on board
+their respective ships, busily occupied in taking in or discharging
+the widely varying cargoes. A few other suspicious low-hulled crafts,
+were also to be seen in the offing, riding uneasy on short cables, and
+apparently ready for sea at a moment’s requirement. The appearance of
+those vessels at once disclosed the business in which they were occupied.
+They were slavers, or otherwise engaged in some nefarious traffic, in
+which extraordinarily great fleetness alone could secure them profit, or
+protect them from certain destruction. At some distance from the town a
+majestic British ship of war was also riding at anchor.
+
+The prize ship was boldly steered into the anchorage, and was shortly
+boarded by the officers of customs, who demanded, in the usual manner, to
+see the ship’s papers. The officers were easily satisfied, for the easy
+and encouraging policy, which the Danes have been wise enough to adopt,
+for the purpose of drawing trade to their little island, did not require
+many forms in the clearance of the ships which might enter its port. To
+the apparent irregularities in the credentials it was easily answered,
+that the captain was the owner of the ship and cargo, that he had
+originally intended to take the latter to an English market, but he had
+changed his mind, and was desirous of selling it in order to undertake a
+voyage to some other part of the world.
+
+The captain, after this formality had been completed, went ashore.
+
+On landing, he was immediately accosted by the numerous merchants and
+others who may be always seen loitering, partly for pleasure and partly
+for business, in small coteries, about the principal landing places of
+the West India islands. The quality of his goods, as well as their prices
+were eagerly inquired into, but no one seemed inclined to purchase. He
+wandered carelessly about the beach with the wide panama hat, with which
+he had disguised himself, drawn far over his head, expecting every moment
+an offer for his cargo; for it is in this manner, and in such places,
+that the cargoes of ships are frequently sold in the tropics. But no
+one made an offer; and, tired of sauntering about uselessly, he entered
+a neighbouring coffee house, and seated himself at the table of the
+principal room.
+
+It was not long before he was followed in by a young merchant who had
+detached himself from one of the little groups above mentioned and had
+dogged him for a long time.
+
+“I shall give you fifty dollars a hogshead for your sugar, and take
+all,” he said, as he accosted and bowed to the captain, at the same time
+presenting his cigar case.
+
+“No,” the captain briefly replied, returning the salute, while, at the
+same time, he accepted the usual West Indian courtesy, and took a cigar
+from the proffered case.
+
+The merchant sat down at the table too, and requested the waiter, who
+brought the disguised captain a glass of sangaree, to serve him with the
+same. He then took out a cigar and began to smoke negligently, as if his
+mind was as little occupied by thoughts of business as that of a child.
+
+They sat together for a considerable time without exchanging a word—a
+circumstance of rare occurrence in the talkative tropics, where men
+endeavour to find in conversation the relaxation which the places of
+amusement of other countries afford. But the disguised captain was one
+whose looks did not encourage access, nor was he one whom we would
+address by mere casualty or for the sake of a moment’s pastime. Without
+being repulsive in appearance he was from a general manner that could
+not be easily understood, but which was at once felt, sufficiently
+uninviting as not to encourage any one to address him unless he himself
+was the first to speak. The merchant therefore did not feel quite
+assured and was by no means tempted to open a conversation with him. The
+disguised captain on his part was from natural disposition and taste, not
+inclined to exchange more words with the merchant or any other person in
+the island, than were absolutely necessary to the accomplishment of the
+object which brought him to St. Thomas—namely, the sale of the ship’s
+cargo.
+
+But, if looks are in a generality of instances justly accounted
+deceptive, they can always be considered so with perhaps much more
+truth in the merchant, whose business it is to assume the air of
+cold indifference, and to pretend to care but very little about the
+transaction in question, while perhaps his palm already itches over
+the bargain which he keenly meditates, and while he is perhaps already
+feasting in imagination on the princely returns which he anticipates from
+it.
+
+“Come, I shall give you fifty-five,” the merchant said, after a number of
+whiffs.
+
+“No,” the captain replied, in the same dry tone as before, looking
+straight before him, indifferently smoking his cigar.
+
+The pursuits of his life time were so different from those of the
+generality of men, that besides the stern cynicism in which he had
+tutored himself, and the habit of contemplation that he had cultivated,
+he would not have been able to take interest in any intercourse with
+them. Perhaps, also there was not a little of pride intermixed with his
+silence. Accustomed to measure the stars, and to associate his thoughts
+with the sublimity of the heavenly regions, and raised to a proper
+estimation of himself by the given opinion of the many universities in
+which he had studied, and which had declared him a man of extraordinary
+talent, he almost scorned the intercourse of one who could speak to him
+only about the state of the market, the amount of money that certain
+individuals happened to possess, and the other things connected with the
+occupation of buying and selling.
+
+Besides, he had long ceased to hold intercourse with living men—except,
+indeed, when it was necessary either to command them, to feed them,
+or to give them drink. He had found that too much evil was mixed up
+with the little good that he could derive from their society, and not
+considering that the mere endurance of the former was an object that
+was so worthy in itself as to command the exercise of his fortitude,
+he thought it prudent to refrain both from listening to the expressed
+thoughts of others and intruding his upon them. Books therefore, he made
+his companions—books, that could not deceive, could not betray, could
+not be mean, could not be penurious, could not make to suffer, could not
+disgust; but which contained the best of dead men’s thoughts without much
+of their vileness.
+
+It was not strange therefore that the two parties sat together silent.
+
+Notwithstanding, however, the existence of this feeling on the part of
+the captain, his prudence suggested the necessity of saying something in
+order to enact with exactness the character of merchant-captain which he
+had for the time assumed.
+
+“You seem to have much traffic in this island,” he said to the young
+merchant, in compliance with this suggestion of his reason.
+
+“A great deal,” replied the young merchant, “we do business with all
+parts of the world. Never been here before? Not traded in these seas much
+I suppose? You do not seem to have been much exposed to the sun.”
+
+The captain made no answer to the last observation.
+
+“We have lately suffered much,” continued the merchant after a pause, “in
+our trade here from a rascally pirate that scours these seas. One vessel
+out of three is sure to fall into his hands. By the bye, you who are a
+stranger in this part of the world, have great reason to thank your stars
+that you have escaped him.”
+
+“No doubt,” the captain coolly observed and drew a whiff of his cigar.
+
+The merchant, also, drew two or three whiffs, and continued—
+
+“It appears the captain of these pirates is a very remarkable fellow;
+he seems to care but little about the lives of those who fall into his
+hands, but contents himself with robbing them in a very gentlemanly
+and polite manner. Those that pass through his clutches, and put in
+here, tell such tales of him, that one would almost fancy they had been
+spell-bound during the time they were his captives.”
+
+“Indeed!” interjected the captain.
+
+“Yes: and the fellow is so remarkably skillful that he baffles all
+attempts to capture him, and always contrives to escape. They say he
+deals with the devil; that he knows his vessel, and his vessel knows him,
+for she does whatever he chooses. Sometimes she is seen in the rig of a
+schooner, at others in that of a brigantine, or brig, or barque, or—God
+knows what else.”
+
+“How remarkable!” observed the captain.
+
+“By Jove! that is not all,” still continued the merchant, “he is bold
+enough to take his prizes into any harbour that may happen to be the
+nearest at the time—whatever it be.”
+
+“And has he never been discovered?” inquired the captain, as coolly as
+before.
+
+“Bless me, no! If he does not actually deal with the devil, by Jove!
+the old boy always seems to help him, for he always manages to sell his
+booty, and get away before it is known that he had been there.”
+
+“A dangerous man, surely,” again remarked the captain, “I must account
+myself fortunate, I perceive, that I have managed to bring my sugar
+safely into port.”
+
+“By jingo! yes——But, a-propos, those sugars, I shall give you sixty
+dollars,” the merchant said.
+
+The captain seemed to muse awhile and said—
+
+“I shall take sixty, on condition that the money be paid this very
+moment, and also in gold.”
+
+“Agreed,” cried the merchant, quickly: “wait here for me a short time; I
+shall bring you the money,” and he went out of the room, with the air of
+one who was congratulating himself on having achieved an extraordinary
+feat.
+
+In the course of half an hour the merchant returned, and was followed by
+a servant, who seemed to be bending and groaning under a heavy bag of
+money which he was carrying.
+
+“There,” said the merchant, taking the bag from the servant, and laying
+it down on the table, “there are three thousands six hundred dollars in
+dubloons, verify them.”
+
+The captain spread the coins on the table, and began to count them.
+
+“It is quite correct—the sugar is yours,” he said, when he had done so,
+and began to replace the dubloons.... The heavy footsteps of men were
+now heard on the stairs. They grew more and more distinct, and now they
+resounded within the extensive room.
+
+“There is your man,” exclaimed an individual, and the captain, on looking
+round, beheld his father, who was standing in front of a file of marines,
+under the command of a British officer, who was accompanied by an
+officer in the Danish civil uniform, that probably represented the local
+government in sanctioning the forcible capture of a British subject, by
+British authorities, on Danish ground.
+
+The face of the young captain evinced neither astonishment, nor anger,
+nor scorn, as he stood looking with indifferent calmness on the warlike
+intruders.
+
+“That is he—the pirate: seize him! seize him!” cried Willmington, almost
+mad with excitement.
+
+The officer remained undecided, and gave no orders. He seemed surprised,
+and inquired, after the lapse of a few moments—
+
+“Is this the pirate?” and pointed towards the captain. “I fancy you are
+in some error: this gentleman does not appear to have ever left the land;
+besides, he seems too young to be what you say he is: you surely must
+have made a mistake.”
+
+Nor was it strange that the officer should thus have felt surprised
+at the appearance of the captain; for he had expected to find some
+villainous, yellow-blooded sinister-looking cut-throat, deformed, hacked
+with wounds, and disfigured with gibbet marks. With this picture of a
+pirate still on his mind, he had pointed out to him a young man who
+seemed more calculated to pass his life in quiet contemplation and easy
+enjoyment, than to take part in the arduous and wearing pursuits of the
+world, much less to hold the position of a robber on the high seas.
+Besides, notwithstanding the hardy life which he was obliged to lead,
+the young man still so sedulously cultivated the refined habits in which
+he had been bred, and had so carefully kept himself below deck, that he
+neither presented the rough cast of men of rough usage, nor lost, under
+a tropical sun, the natural paleness of his complexion.
+
+“It is no mistake at all,” exclaimed Willmington, “I know him well; I
+cannot be deceived. It is he who had me thrown overboard. Yes, he had me
+thrown overboard in the sea—to be drowned—to be drowned; but providence
+has now interfered to punish the perpetrator of the outrage committed
+upon me. And, and,” he added, “you will now suffer for it,” addressing
+the captain, while he took the precaution of clinging as closely as
+possible to the officer. For it would appear that even in the presence of
+the file of marines the recollection of the empty cask made him nervous.
+
+“Nay, nay, good father,” the captain said, with cauterising sarcasm, “the
+crime of throwing his kind and loving father overboard, would better suit
+the jargon that fills the mouths of such virtuous gentlemen as you.” ...
+A pause ensued.
+
+“His father,”—“Are you then this old gentleman’s son?” inquired the
+officer.
+
+“He can tell you,” answered the captain. “But I await your orders sir;
+lead me wherever it may be your instructions to do so.”
+
+The officer seemed more undecided than ever. He looked for an instant at
+James Willmington, who remained silent, and bent his eyes to the ground
+as they met those of the ingenious gallant young soldier.
+
+“This is a strange and extraordinary business,” he observed, “I am not
+aware that my commission obliges me to meddle with such apparently
+disagreeable affairs. However, young gentleman, for such you seem, and I
+can scarcely believe that you are what this old gentleman represents you
+to be, I have orders from my commanding officer, and sanction from the
+local authorities, to arrest you, provided you are the pirate who scours
+these seas?”
+
+“It is he—it is he;—I am certain of it: he took our ship; he had me
+thrown overboard,” vociferated James Willmington, scarcely affording the
+young officer time to complete his sentence, “I tell you, seize him,
+seize him!”
+
+Disgusted with this uproarious outbreak, and somewhat stung by
+Willmington’s imperative manner, the officer turned round to him and
+said, cuttingly—
+
+“Perhaps, sir, you would have me take a rope and hang him at once: you
+must recollect, sir that I am not bound to regulate my conduct by any
+peculiar activity which may characterise your feeling against this
+person.”
+
+This language came the more readily from the young officer, inasmuch as
+he felt a prejudice in favor of the captain.
+
+Free, frank, generous, and noble, as those of the order to which he
+belonged generally are, he could not but feel a certain interest in his
+prisoner, and he began to speculate on the extraordinary circumstance
+that a man, such as he seemed to be, should have found himself in a
+position of so equivocal a nature, as the one in which he was then
+placed. It appeared strange to him that one who seemed well educated,
+and who at the same time possessed such gracefulness of demeanour,
+and elegance of expression, could have freely chosen to herd with the
+wretched outcasts that usually crown their other numerous crimes with the
+horrible outrages of piracy: and should thus expose himself, not only
+to the danger of the horrid death with which such a crime was punished,
+but to run the risk of entailing upon himself the ignominy which the
+world, with one accord, unanimously casts upon the pirate. He justly
+imagined, that to drive an individual, such as he seemed to be, to such
+a life, there required very great causes, or, at any rate, unusual ones,
+which may have acted in a more than ordinary manner on a naturally too
+sensitive mind; and as great afflictions always call forth sympathy from
+the generous, the imagined misfortunes of the prisoner turned, in an
+instant, the heart of the officer in his favor. This was the impulsive
+judgment of the young man.
+
+The noble and fresh-hearted, young officer, that feared not the
+prejudiced frown of any man, could afford, independently, to take the man
+as he found him.
+
+“You will go with me,” said he to the captain, “I trust you will see the
+absolute uselessness of any attempt to escape,” and he significantly
+pointed to his men. “I shall not put you under restraint if you promise
+to walk with us.”
+
+“If you will take the word of a pirate,” said the captain, bowing, “I
+promise to accompany you. If otherwise, I am willing to allow myself to
+be put under any constraint that you may think proper. I trust, however,
+that I am incapable of showing myself insensible to the indulgence of any
+gentleman, and least of all, to a British officer.”
+
+“That is sufficient,” quickly replied the officer.
+
+The party now left the room, and soon reached the boat that was waiting
+at the beach. They embarked: and, in a short time, arrived alongside the
+huge man of war, whose sides looked gloomy with the frowning guns as they
+peeped through the port-holes. As soon as the party gained the deck, the
+captain was immediately conducted before the commander of the vessel.
+
+He was one of those venerable looking old gentlemen, who are now and then
+to be casually seen in the walks—of the world, and who when once seen,
+forcibly draw from us respect and honor,—with locks whose colour had long
+been worn away by the wind and washed away by the brine, and with one
+of those faces which tell by their rosey hue and frank openness, in the
+evening of existence, of a life so spent in duty and honour that not one
+single repentant wrinkle dared ruffle the brow where loyalty and truth
+had always sat. He was sitting in an elegant state cabin when the officer
+brought the prisoner before him. He raised his eyes from off the book
+which he was then reading, and began to examine him. He said nothing, but
+could not conceal the surprise which he seemed to feel at the appearance
+of the individual whom he was examining.
+
+“You seem young to be engaged in such a lawless pursuit, prisoner,” he
+said after a minute or two.
+
+The captain bowed haughtily.
+
+“You are aware,” continued the commander, “that you are accused of a very
+heinous crime—that of piracy.”
+
+The captain bowed again in the same manner.
+
+“You know that is an offence which is universally reprobated by all
+nations, and it is one which in its moral character is the blackest of
+crimes. It is my duty, therefore, to keep you on board this ship until
+I can put you in the hands of the authorities, whose business it is to
+deal with these matters. I shall sail for Trinidad in a few days, and you
+will remain in custody until my arrival in that island, where you will be
+delivered up to the civil tribunals.”
+
+The captain calmly bowed again.
+
+“In the meantime,” continued the commander, addressing the father and
+accuser, “you will be good enough to repeat, in the presence of the
+prisoner, the accusation which you made in his absence.”
+
+James Willmington, after a pause, then began, his voice trembling with
+excitement, and ill-concealed hatred.
+
+“As I said before my lord, I, and two other persons, were passengers on
+board the ship ‘Letitia,’ which was bound for Bristol. We were two days’
+sail from Trinidad, when we were boarded by pirates, of whom this man, as
+we afterwards found, was the chief. After a brave resistance made by our
+crew, the ship was captured, and I and the others were taken on board the
+vessel of the pirates. The other captives were treated with much lenity,
+but I was kept in close confinement, and eventually, by the orders of
+this man, was even tied to an empty cask, and set adrift on the ocean, to
+meet there a lingering death, far more horrible than any sudden violence
+could have inflicted. To prolong my miseries, a few dried biscuits were
+tied to my cask. A whole day and night I was in this condition floating
+on the wild waves, and was worn out, and well nigh exhausted with
+suffering, when Providence came to my rescue. A sloop came sailing by,
+and with difficulty I made my cries to be heard. I was taken on board,
+and life, which was fast departing, was brought back by the kindness of
+the master and crew.
+
+“I had overheard the pirates speak about St. Thomas’ as the place whither
+they intended to sail for the disposal of the ship’s cargo. I at once
+resolved to anticipate them if possible, to have the author of my cruel
+sufferings arrested, and to bring him to condign punishment. For this
+purpose I prevailed upon the master of the sloop, by offering him a large
+sum of money, to put in here, where fortunately we arrived before the
+pirates, and I had, by this happy accident, the opportunity of watching
+their arrival. This is the man who is the chief of the pirates, and who
+ordered me to be thrown overboard under circumstances of such refined
+cruelty.”
+
+After Willmington had spoken, the commander asked the prisoner if the
+accusation was true.
+
+“True in all things,” said the latter, “in all things, so far as they
+have been revealed. I admit everything that has been said, but my
+accuser,” and here he fixed his piercing eyes on his father, “but my
+accuser has informed you only of the punishment; he has not told you why,
+when I treated my other captives with such lenity, I practised what he
+calls cruelties on himself. Perhaps, my lord,” while his lip could be
+seen to curl with scorn, “perhaps he will tell you that I was only the
+executioner who inflicted the punishment which one of the most heinous
+crimes deserved.”
+
+“What do you mean?” inquired the commander.
+
+“Simply,” replied the captain, “that this man is my father. He abandoned
+me at an age when I was too young to offend, and afterwards refused me
+bread when I was being famished. In vindication of the violated laws of
+nature, I, in my turn, abandoned him when he required my aid, and I cast
+him away from my vessel, when he required its use.”
+
+“Then you are this gentleman’s son? and there are, therefore, family
+affairs connected with this business?” inquired the commander, with
+evident surprise, marked on his open and noble face; and, turning to
+Willmington, he inquired, also, whether he was really his father.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+“Young man,” said the commander, “it was wrong, on your part, to
+treat your parent in this manner. If what you say is correct, he has
+treated you unnaturally, but there is One above us to punish such
+sins, and it is not yours to arrogate the right of taking vengeance,
+even when you consider yourself injured—recollect,” he said solemnly,
+“recollect—‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.’”
+
+“You speak, my lord,” replied the captain, “as I should expect you to do;
+but you are scarcely a judge in this matter: you have not had to endure
+what I had. I can read in you, my lord,—pardon the personality—something
+which tells me that, if you had found yourself in my place, you would
+have acted in the same manner.”
+
+In the meantime, a young officer had silently descended the
+companion-steps, and, hearing the voice of the last speaker, he came
+quickly forward and gazed in his face, seeming to recognize him.
+
+“Appadocca,” he exclaimed, and eagerly grasped the hand of the captain,
+“what brings you here? Why you are not the pirate, surely?—it cannot be!”
+
+“Yes, I am the pirate,” the captain calmly replied, while he pressed the
+hand that had grasped his.
+
+“Good heavens! you deceive me—you—you—”
+
+“Mr. Charles,” sounded the voice of the commander, “recollect, sir, you
+are in the presence of your commanding officer, and that you are speaking
+to a person who is under arrest.”
+
+The young officer retired a few steps, conscious that, although he was
+the commander’s son, he was still subject to the rules of discipline.
+
+Deep anxiety for the prisoner, however, was marked on his features, as
+his eyes wandered impatiently from the captain, whom we shall now call
+by his proper name, Appadocca—to his father, and from his father to
+Appadocca again.
+
+The prisoner was now ordered away, and instructions were given to keep
+him in close custody. The officer in command, the sentinels, and the
+prisoner proceeded on deck. The young officer was about to follow, when
+he was requested by his father to stay.
+
+“Do you know this man, Charles?” inquired the commander, when they were
+alone.
+
+“If I know him, sir? every man who has studied in any university these
+seven years back, knows Emmanuel Appadocca. I studied mathematics with
+him in Paris, sir; and, if you remember, you will find I frequently
+spoke to you about him.”
+
+“Yes: I think, now, I recollect something of the name. But this seems a
+strange end for such a man as you always represented him to be.”
+
+“Yes; this does seem a very strange end,” replied the young officer, “and
+I cannot but imagine that there is some error in all this.”
+
+“That old planter,” observed the commander, “seems, however, to be very
+positive in his statements; and, in addition to this, appears determined
+to prosecute him to the utmost.”
+
+“It is to be hoped, sir,” replied Mr. Charles, “that Appadocca will be
+able to establish his innocence.”
+
+“It is to be hoped, Charles—it is to be hoped,” said the commander, and
+he took up his book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+    “Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
+    To what I shall unfold.”
+
+                                        HAMLET.
+
+
+Appadocca was led to a narrow compartment in the gun-deck where he was
+locked up, and a sentinel was placed at the door.
+
+The unexpected turn that his affairs had taken, seemed to have but little
+effect on his mind. The sad prospect of being tried like the meanest
+criminal, and condemned, perhaps, to an ignominious death appeared not to
+startle his settled cynicism.
+
+When the door of the cabin was closed upon him, after having sat for a
+time in a deep meditation, he knocked from within and asked the man who
+kept guard without, for a piece of chalk, which, after some delay, was
+given to him. With it he began to draw algebraical figures on the boards
+that partitioned his cabin prison, and seemed engrossed in some deep
+calculation. In this manner the afternoon passed. When the short tropical
+twilight came and went, and he was no longer capable of seeing his
+figures, he seated himself down again and remained so until late in the
+night, when he stretched himself on the deck for the purpose of going to
+sleep.
+
+He had not lain down long before the door of the cabin was silently
+opened, and an individual closely wrapped in a boat-cloak entered. The
+cloak was immediately thrown off, and, by the light of a small lantern
+which the stranger carried, Appadocca saw before him Charles Hamilton,
+his friend.
+
+“Welcome, Charles!” said Appadocca, affecting more than usual
+lightsomeness, “welcome to my narrow quarters,” at the same time, casting
+his eyes around the close cabin, which, for the time being, constituted
+his prison.
+
+“Hush! Emmanuel,” said the commander’s son, “and, for G—d’s sake, do
+not speak in such a trivial manner, when you are in such a dangerous
+position. Tell me,” he continued, while the most impatient anxiety could
+be detected in his tone, “tell me how you could have brought yourself to
+this melancholy pass.”
+
+“’Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,” replied Appadocca, “as your
+own most noble and illustrious countryman has it.... But you seem to
+be entirely cast down with anxiety—bah! banish that, and if you can
+accommodate yourself on this hard deck, sit down and we shall have a
+little conversation on ‘the happy days gone by.’”
+
+“Happy, indeed, they were, Emmanuel, and little did I dream when we
+pursued our studies together, and when I, together with the others,
+almost worshipped the intellect with which heaven has blessed you, that
+I should ever have met you as a prisoner on board my father’s ship,
+accused, too, of such a grave offence as piracy.” This was spoken with
+such deep feeling, that Appadocca could scarcely continue his tone of
+assumed gaiety.
+
+“But what is this Emmanuel?” asked Charles, as his eyes met the figures
+which Appadocca had traced. “Calculations? must I believe that your
+cynicism can have made you think so lightly of the sad doom which hangs
+over you as to permit you to work equations and solve problems at this
+moment?”
+
+“Now, since you are bent upon being very serious,” answered Appadocca,
+“pray accommodate yourself and I shall speak to you, and as to those
+calculations, they concern you more than you imagine. Let your ship be in
+a safe harbour within these two weeks to come: a comet will be visible
+in seven days’ time, near the constellation of the Southern Cross; the
+hurricane that will follow at its tail, will be more than many ships will
+be able to bear. Now sit down.”
+
+The young officer sat down.
+
+“You ask me,” began Appadocca, with his characteristic gravity, which had
+now returned, “first, how it has happened that I originally found myself
+a pirate, cruising in the Caribean sea; and, secondly, a prisoner on
+board your father’s ship. I regret much that even friendship should have
+interposed to elicit from me a narrative, which I have always desired to
+carry with me to the—scaffold now, I suppose. Nevertheless, now that I
+am on the brink of destruction, it may be well to let the world know the
+cause of my conduct towards the individual whom an unhappy accident made
+my father;—which conduct, I admit, may now look strange and criminal.
+
+“You remember, when you left the university of Paris, that I was
+then preparing to compete in the _concours_ for the professorship of
+astronomy.”
+
+“Which I always believed you would have, undoubtedly won,” interrupted
+the officer.
+
+“Do not interrupt me. Within a short time after your departure, I
+received a letter from the faithful servant, who always attended her,
+acquainting me with my mother’s death. You, who have known the more
+than ordinary fondness that my mother and I so strongly entertained for
+each other, can easily understand the overwhelming effect which such an
+announcement had upon me.”
+
+“I know, Emmanuel—pass over that quickly,” said the young officer.
+
+“Even my philosophy was not strong enough to bear up against it, and
+I fell into a fever, from the effects of which I did not rally for a
+considerable period.
+
+“Well, with my mother’s death, my means of support ceased; for she seems
+to have carefully concealed the fact from me, that all her little fortune
+had been devoted to my education, and had been expended for the purpose
+of keeping me, as much as possible, on a level with the station which
+her ancestors had occupied. I was, consequently rendered incapable of
+continuing my preparations for the _concours_, and it became absolutely
+necessary for me to endeavour to gain my livelihood by my own exertions.
+
+“When the whole of my lifetime, up to that period, had been passed in
+schools and colleges, you may easily imagine that I was not much adapted
+to friction against the world, and to fight in the scrambling battle, for
+bread.
+
+“The only means I possessed was my pen,—precarious means! The only
+method of procuring food was by writing on those subjects, with which
+I had, more or less, filled my mind. Paris was over-crowded with
+individuals placed in a similar position to mine, who, however, possessed
+the superior advantage of being better able to thrust themselves forward;
+a thing which I sympathized too little with the world to be able to do.
+Besides, it was very problematical, whether success in Paris would bring
+me remuneration that would be sufficient to maintain me in the manner
+in which I had been brought up;—for you must know that literary men are
+badly paid in France. I felt, also, a certain disgust in remaining among
+those by whom I was known, when I fell into a condition which, at best,
+would be but precarious. For these reasons, I resolved to visit the
+British capital, where remuneration was reputed to be greater and more
+secure.
+
+“I left Paris, after taking leave of but few of my friends, and went
+to London. When I arrived there, I found there were many subjects
+on which but little had been written; for the genius of the English
+people calls them a different way from the unprofitable consideration
+of abstruse subjects. I wrote about these things. I took my papers to
+the publications of the day. They did not refuse them:—‘They would
+publish them,’ they said, ‘when there was room.’ That, I found out by
+experience, was but an excuse. They were not inclined absolutely to
+refuse the articles, so they had recourse to that shuffling subterfuge,
+for they had their own friends to serve. I waited long—there still was no
+room; sometimes, at great intervals, a paper was published, but so sadly
+mutilated that it became almost absurd.
+
+“In the mean time, the small amount of money which I possessed became
+more and more diminished; still I hoped. Yes: I had that delusive,
+cheating, empty solace of the afflicted—hope. Hope, which mankind has
+complaisantly numbered among its cardinal virtues, because it holds out
+to each the lighted wisp that leads and leads him on until he finally
+stumbles into the grave that closes up his existence. All my valuables
+were disposed of, one after another, and I was at last left without
+a brass penny—without property, save my telescope. With that I would
+not—I could not part. I should have more easily yielded up my heart than
+dispossess myself of my old and only companion.
+
+“Together with the letter which announced my mother’s death, I received a
+casket which she requested, at her last moments, should be delivered into
+my hands. I had always been led to believe, that my father had died when
+I was a child; but in the casket I found a letter, informing me, that he
+was not dead, and enjoining that I should ever to study to cherish and
+respect him who was pointed out to me as my sire. My feelings told me at
+once, that my good mother had been treated with injustice, and vengeance
+was my first impulse.
+
+“I had always entertained peculiar opinions about women: I had been
+accustomed to consider her the superior of the two beings; nay, I had
+gone further: I had considered her one of those benignant spirits
+which the disciples of the theological system introduce in their
+allegories,—the ultimate link between this condition and a higher and
+more refined humanity. I had looked upon her as the embodiment of
+goodness, that sweetened existence with its smiles, and made sorrow
+shrink into insignificance by its sympathy; as a being in whom intellect
+and propensities were happily not made to preponderate over the loftiest
+attributes of human nature—the sentiments. Holding this belief, I
+had worshipped her in whatever condition I found her;—in gorgeous
+magnificence, or in sordid rags, as pure and spotless as the lily, or
+polluted or stained with foulest crimes. To me she ever was woman, and
+that was sufficient. On account of this peculiarity, I always looked
+with horror upon any man that could be base enough to take any advantage
+of her, or give her pain. Such an individual I considered unmanned and
+dishonored, and would shrink from him with disgust. Judge, then, of my
+state of mind, when I discovered that the crime which I abhorred so much
+was brought so personally under my reprobation.
+
+“In a calmer mood, however, I thought that sorrow and restitution
+ought to suffice to obliterate crime; that, at least, I should give
+the offending party an opportunity of remedying the wrong he had done.
+Perhaps repentance might creep into his soul. I wrote, then, to the
+person who had been indicated as my father. He was a wealthy planter in
+Trinidad. I made it known to him that I was acquainted with the secret of
+my parentage. I described to him the utter distress in which I, his son,
+was then placed, and besought him to send me a pittance to sustain that
+life of which he was the cause.
+
+“Months passed, and I received no answer. Certain feelings began to
+rankle in my bosom; I, however, took care not to be precipitate. Still
+hope sustained me. I was obliged to pass days together without food. On
+such occasion, I would stand by some thoroughfare and watch the over-fed
+passers, and meditate on that strange destiny which gave to some too
+much, and to others too little.
+
+“One beautiful night, the stars were clearly visible, and I loitered
+towards one of the bridges that span the Thames, to enjoy the happiness
+of watching them. There, seating myself down on one of the stone benches,
+I forgot for a moment my distress, and felt as I was wont to feel in
+happier days. The night waned:—attracted by the lurid glimmer of Antares,
+I fell into a reverie on the theory of the starry scintillation. It may
+have been one o’clock in the morning,—like the labourer whose thews and
+sinews were relaxed with the day’s unremitting toil; the great metropolis
+was buried in that comparative repose which it enjoys only at that early
+hour of the morning. The rattling of numberless vehicles, the shuffling
+of thousands of bustling wayfarers had now ceased. Nothing was to be
+heard but the soon-ceasing rattle of some hurrying conveyance, the
+measured steps of the police officers, or, perhaps, the ringing laugh
+of some nightly merry-maker. My eyes were fixed on the stars, and I was
+dreaming on the orbs of space, when suddenly the low restrained sobs of
+intense agony fell on my ear. I suddenly turned my head, when I beheld a
+woman standing on the wall, apparently ready to throw herself headlong
+into the river. She had a child in her arms, and she pressed it to her
+bosom, while she loaded it with caresses, and bathed it with tears. Her
+sobs were those of despair. In an instant I comprehended her intention,
+and creeping silently along the parapet, I suddenly stood up and seized
+her in my arms. She gave one convulsive shriek and swooned away.
+
+“I had taught myself to look on misery as the actings of certain general
+laws: I had accustomed myself to look upon the most appalling phenomena
+of organic and inorganic life simply as the consummation to which they
+must necessarily come. I had studied to bring down to nothing the
+revolting aspect of misery, the bloody scenes of warriors weltering in
+their blood, or the ghastly hue of emaciating disease; but never before
+that night had there been presented to my eyes such a combination of
+utter misery, of gentleness, of innocence, of suffering, of goodness, and
+of despair, as I beheld blended in the woman whom I had thus rescued from
+perdition.
+
+“She was young, as yet scarcely of the age capable to bear even the
+ordinary troubles of the world. Her auburn hair floated loose over
+her shoulders and her pale emaciated face, while the whiteness of her
+forehead was here and there to be seen between her dishevelled tresses.
+Her lacklustre eyes were as sunken as if animation had already ceased; a
+tattered dress hung about her skeleton frame, and her fingers were more
+like those of a dead than of a living creature. The babe was as pale as
+the moon that shone upon it. Its sweet little features were locked in a
+calm lethargic sleep: its spirit seemed to sympathise with that of its
+mother; whilst neither her alarm and swoon, nor the bleakness of the
+night, could rouse it from its happy slumber, or draw a murmuring cry
+from its lips.
+
+“I stood for a long time, supporting the unhappy girl in my arms,
+anxiously watching the return of animation. Her circulation was slow, for
+want had fed upon her strength.
+
+“‘Oh, oh!—where, where—am I?—no—no—I am not there’—she wanderingly
+muttered, as she gradually recovered.
+
+“Her head drooped in silence, as she became conscious of her position
+and exposure. I questioned her delicately on the circumstances that
+led to her taking so fatal a resolution as the one which I had, but
+accidentally, prevented her from carrying into effect. After much
+hesitation, she told me the story of her misfortune.
+
+“She had been left fatherless and motherless. She had devoted herself to
+the man whom she had been taught, by his ardent professions, to look upon
+as her only stay, and whom she still loved; he had perjured himself, and
+abandoned her.
+
+“She had hid her head in shame and misery from her friends, and by
+incessant toil had sometimes procured herself food: but she became a
+mother, and could no longer work. She had pined away with her babe in a
+hovel: at last to see her child daily droop under her eyes, maddened her;
+she could bear it no longer. There might be a happier lot, she thought,
+in another world, where at least there were no deceivers, and so resolved
+to flee from this.
+
+“‘And is the father of your child rich, and able to provide food for it?’
+I inquired.
+
+“‘He is,’ she replied.
+
+“‘Recollect,’ I said, ‘that however desperate your condition may be,
+still you have no right to take away the life of your child. The little
+innocent has been brought into the world by you, it is, therefore, your
+duty to devote your life to its care and preservation.’
+
+“She wept.
+
+“I had no money—my coat was scarcely good enough to protect me from the
+cold—I still had two buckles on my shoes, with which I had not parted
+because I knew their value would scarcely procure me a meal. I took them
+off and laid them on the babe. ‘Those may serve to get your child some
+milk,’ I said. She refused them. I pressed her to accept them for the
+child, and after having obtained a promise that she would never again
+attempt to destroy herself I conducted her off the bridge.
+
+“The history of the poor girl had made a deep impression on me; I was
+agitated, so I retraced my steps, and seated myself down again; but I
+could no longer study the stars: the mother and child were ever present
+to my mind. That girl was once happy, I thought. She may have shone in
+virtue and accomplishments. Now she is loaded with misery. And what has
+changed her condition thus? was it the visitation of Providence? was it
+sudden illness? was it her own crime? She had fallen a victim to her own
+virtues, her own confidence, her own fondness, her own gentleness. The
+angelic nature of her sex, was worked upon for her destruction, and after
+having been deceived, she was discarded,—she! nay,—not she alone—but the
+innocent child—too young to offend, too helpless to be criminal—was also
+thrown on the wide, unfeeling world. Has one human creature any right
+thus to load another with misery, to drive another to desperation, to
+convert the life of another—aye, and by a most villainous method—into a
+period of enduring suffering and anguish? The man, too, who hast blasted
+her happiness, is rich, and perhaps, at this moment, when his victim and
+child are perishing of starvation, is surrounded by his merry minions
+and lemans, and is squandering away that wealth, of which the thousandth
+part would save his child from famine. I could no longer restrain myself.
+‘Great Ruler of the Universe,’ I exclaimed, ‘canst Thou permit these
+things? How is it, that thou, who hast filled the space, that confounds
+human understanding, with such worlds of beautiful worlds; that hast so
+wisely adjusted their incomprehensible systems, that all revolve and move
+in perfect harmony, and submit implicitly to the great laws that Thou
+hast imposed upon them:—how is it that Thou hast given such license to
+one of thy humble creatures, that he, apparently uncontrolled, can stride
+in wickedness over this fair world, and blast the life and happiness
+which Thou, also bestowed?—This, at least, is not wisdom!...’
+
+“Hush! blasphemer, hush,” a spirit seemed to whisper to me.
+
+“Chide not Heaven foolishly! Thou sayest that He has ordained laws to
+which worlds that thou but faintly seest above, are subject:—that’s true:
+carry thy reflections still farther. Thou beholdest above thee, with
+the naked eye, orbs, in regard to which thy powers of calculation are
+scarcely comprehensive enough to keep pace with thy vision. To thy sight,
+when assisted, these already uncountable worlds multiply themselves
+to numbers which thou canst attempt to speak of only in ratios; and,
+probably, when thy ingenuity shall have contrived to invent some
+instrument that will assist thy vision still more, thou shalt behold,
+open before thee, an immensity of orb-filled space, at the sight of which
+despair will well-nigh seize thee. Consider all these,—even the few that
+thou seest without unusual exertion,—they all exist, move, and revolve
+by the force of laws which are impressed upon them. Contemplate their
+mechanism and order. Take this one—it is the centre of a system, and
+stands the governor, amidst millions of other orbs that are subject and
+obedient to its guidance. It moves, and they move, too, with and around
+it; and it is itself subject to some other, from which it receives its
+motion and its law. Those others, too, that so humbly seem to follow
+it, are, each of them in its place, the rulers of others again, that
+are less powerful than themselves, and give their law to them. Each
+of these, apparently, disjointed parts, and these numerous groups of
+world-contained worlds, are united and cemented, under the all-powerful
+force of law, and form a whole that is more incomprehensible at the ratio
+of the unit of each, than its component parts. Still, notwithstanding
+this unrealizable immensity, behold the harmony and regularity with
+which they perform their revolutions. In these gyrations, that are
+as innumerable as themselves, not one clashes against the other; and
+when they diverge the distance of even a cubic inch, such divergence
+is ever exacted by the necessity of the self-same law, which so
+marvellously controls them. In the movements of these vast bodies time
+can be calculated to the utmost second; and in their inclination to a
+given point, towards which they have been verging for millions of your
+computed years, not a difference, except that which the known law seemed
+to require, can be traced, either in ratio, or in, what appears to your
+short-lived eyes, their remarkable slowness. Here mark law, and obedience
+to that law.
+
+“From the sublime regions come now to earth. Thou mayest behold design
+and intelligence in the very inorganic matter that composes it, from
+the consolidated and hardened granite that resists and beats back the
+rushing ocean, to the minute particle that blinds thee by the roadside.
+Law is stamped upon them, and adherence to that law, composes their very
+existence. Again, the trees which shelter this beautiful globe tell, in
+their germination, their bloom, their blossom, and decay, of law and
+obedience.
+
+“Proceed to organized things;—contemplate all living creatures, from the
+low and torpid lizard that creeps upon the tombstone, and turns its
+cold and clammy sides to the sunbeams, to the gigantic elephant—thou
+wilt find that every animal carries in itself a law and undergoes the
+pains of retribution whenever it violates that law. Thus the browsing
+sheep that forgets its instinct, and feeds on poisonous herbs, dies. The
+scorpion, that turns his sting upon itself, also dies. The antelope, if
+it throws itself down a rock must necessarily be dashed to pieces. In
+all these things you see law, and its safeguard—retribution. Man, as
+well as all other beings, is subject to it, and the penalty which its
+violation entails. If you establish false systems among yourselves, and
+consent to postpone to an imaginary period, this penalty, which ought to
+be made to follow closely upon every violation of the law, surely Heaven
+is not to be blamed. Duty is poised between the reward of virtue and
+retribution:—man has the license to choose, between either meriting the
+former, or bringing down the latter, upon himself. The great error of
+your social physics is, that you remit this penalty to a period of time,
+which if it were even unimagined, would fail to afford the principal and
+best effect of retribution,—the deterring from crimes.
+
+“Like those who dwelt on the banks of the Nile of old, who built
+cities for dead men, and gave them kings, and made laws for them, and
+established vast prisons and instituted judges, and sketched out places
+which the most fevered imagination cannot realize, and surrounded them
+with pleasures, or filled them with horrors, either as happy regions
+where virtues were to be rewarded, or frightful holes in which crimes
+were to be punished, you permit the evil-doer to live his wicked years,
+and sink amidst the weeping sorrow of friends or bribed strangers into
+the quiet grave, then read the lesson to mystified listeners—that
+evil deeds are punished. If the wretch, who poisoned the life of that
+miserable creature whom thou but now didst rescue, were made to suffer
+the one-hundredth part of that misery which he has caused; his mates in
+vile wickedness, appalled by the example, would shrink in trembling fear
+from the perpetration of like crimes. You forget, in your social system,
+the wisdom of the race which you affect to despise, while you cherish the
+theological philosophy which you were eager to borrow from them, and tie
+the hand of the avenger, and blunt the double-edged sword of retribution.
+You punish the man who takes away the life of another; who consigns
+another to the oblivion on which neither misery nor pleasure intrudes,
+and him who makes the life of the living worse than death, you permit
+to roam, in his foulness, this beautiful earth, and only hope that the
+retribution which you yourselves ought to bring about, will be wrought by
+the very hand of the Being who operates here but by his created agents.
+And then, thou short-sighted, impulse-ridden, and reason-limited mortal,
+complainest in loud and senseless terms against Heaven, while at thy own
+door lies the wrong. Know that man himself, by law, is the avenger, the
+retributionist on himself or others.
+
+“‘Ah! is it so?’ I said. I reflected, and found that it must be so.—The
+scales fell from my eyes.—‘True, true,’ I cried.—Heaven forgive the
+impulse of a short-sighted mortal.
+
+“Then this man, who may now be rolling in profusion while his child is
+dying of hunger, ought to be made to bear the stings of famine, too,
+and suffer the same misery which he has inflicted on others.—And—oh! a
+fearful light broke in upon me—and the man from whose hands I demanded
+not existence, but who has given me life, and abandoned me in my misery,
+ought likewise to feel some part of the sufferings which I undergo. Yes:
+the only prevention of crime is to make its punishment follow immediately
+in its course.
+
+“‘Then, hear ye powers above,’ I exclaimed, ‘this miserable life I devote
+to vindicate the law of nature which has been violated in me, and in your
+child; and I swear, by the Great Being who gave me reason, that I shall
+not rest until I have taught my father, that the creature to whom he has
+given life possesses feelings and sensibility, and is capable of taking
+vengeance.’
+
+“I resolved, at once, to start for the West Indies, and to go to the
+docks, as soon as it was light, to procure a ship. So, on the impulse
+of the thought, I proceeded to the place where I had my lowly lodging
+to fetch my telescope. But, although I knocked loud enough to awake the
+soundest sleepers, the door was not opened; I, therefore, sat on the
+steps until daylight came. When morning had dawned I again knocked,
+but was refused admittance. ‘Then give me my telescope,’ I prayed. The
+telescope had been sold the night before for my rent, I was told. I was
+overwhelmed. It was natural enough the master of the house should require
+his money, but I never could have contemplated that my telescope would
+have been taken from me. Rallying from the shock that I had received, I
+begged to see the master. After some time he came to the door. He was a
+fat heavy little man, whose voice came whizzingly from his encumbered
+chest. I implored him to restore me my telescope, telling him that it was
+my only companion and solace in life, and I offered to work for him in
+whatever capacity, how mean soever it might be, for the few shillings
+that were due to him, provided he would give me back my telescope. ‘Go
+along with you,’ he answered, ‘do you take me for a fool?’ and shut the
+door violently in my face. I turned away, and was so dejected in mind
+and wasted in body, that I could not walk. The morning advanced, and
+the street began to present the busy scene by which it was every day
+animated. My musings imperceptibly turned on the motly crowd before me. I
+contemplated the scene in which there might be observed the shrewd cabman
+driving to death his jaded horse, the affluent man of business, hurrying
+with inclining head to the pursuit of greater wealth, the afflicted
+widow, moving along in modest grief; the age-stricken and poor cripple
+crawling in his sordid rags, and the man of fortune with his air of
+self-satisfaction, his dangling jewels and his gaudy equipage. I remarked
+that these different persons passed each other as if no kindly word or
+salutation had ever rested on their heavy tongues—like gruff animals
+that hurry in silence to their separate lairs. Each seemed intent on his
+own pursuit. The driver did not withdraw his attention from his horse’s
+head, nor did the lordling stop to succour the decaying wretch; the man
+of business did not raise his eyes from the ground, on which he seemed to
+count his gains, to notice the sorrowful widow: yet these men possess
+wealth enough to render thousands happy without injuring themselves.
+
+“They have wealth enough to have my telescope restored to me, and cause
+my happiness; still, yon wretched being may—nay, will probably sink into
+his grave for the want of a brass penny from any of these, and I—I should
+probably be handed over to the police officer, were I to make one more
+effort for my telescope. ‘Mankind, farewell!’ I exclaimed, from the force
+of my disgust, ‘I may pity you, but never can love you.’
+
+“I then walked down to the London Docks where, after some inquiry, I
+found a ship prepared for a voyage to Jamaica. I offered myself to the
+commander as a seaman. He began to depreciate my capabilities, and said
+that I should, probably, encumber others rather than be of any service.
+
+“I told him that I could steer a ship, and take observations; I did not
+mention my competency to do the other parts of navigation, for I was
+afraid to prejudice him against me; for individuals of that class pride
+themselves on the idea that the great secret of managing a ship, is
+in their hands alone, and that other men are, or ought to be—entirely
+ignorant of it.
+
+“Finally, I asked him to examine me, on the mariner’s compass, and on
+navigation.
+
+“He readily did so, and the ignorant creature put me some miserable
+questions, about the sun’s altitude at noon, and some such matter which
+he had been mechanically taught. I answered them, and encouraged all
+the while the important and patronizing air which he had assumed. When
+we have no money, and desire the accomplishment of any purpose, we must
+learn to use towards men, a passport that is equivalent—a sympathy with
+their vanity. The result was, that I was immediately granted a passage to
+Jamaica, on condition that I should work it.
+
+“As I sailed down the Thames and gazed on the banks of the river, I
+became a prey to the saddest reflections. Fancy had often whispered to
+me thoughts of a brilliant and happy career. The lightness of heart
+with which I began and prosecuted my studies; the happiness which I
+derived from them, and my total unacquaintance with the world, had never
+permitted me to speculate a moment on the possibility of misfortune or of
+distress. I had fondly cherished the hope, that in Europe, the centre of
+the highest human civilization, I should have been able one day to bring
+down some truth from the stars to mankind, and should have crowned the
+labours of a lifetime, with banishing away some of the ignorance in which
+the human species was enveloped. But when I experienced the prostration
+of want—the prostration that arises not from an enfeebling of the body,
+or from a decay of mind, but simply from not possessing the conventional
+medium of exchange; when I saw that our most glorious enterprises
+are subject, on account of a necessary evil of civilisation, and the
+iniquitous habits of mankind, to be blasted; I became persuaded that,
+without money, no man can hope to propagate truth; and the difficulty of
+carrying my projects into execution was forced upon me. This, however,
+could partly be overcome. But as I left Europe, I felt that all hopes of
+realizing my designs were gone.
+
+“The ardour which had, however, inflamed me in one pursuit, fired me also
+in another, and to it was added the force of unswerving necessity;—that
+of visiting on the individual who was the primary source of my
+sufferings, the same amount of them as I was enduring.
+
+“But I find I am becoming prolix. It is now late—you and I require rest;
+come again to-morrow night and I shall let you hear the other part of
+the adventures, which have ended in leaving me a prisoner on board your
+father’s ship, and a narrator to you of my history.”
+
+The young officer rose up, and, shaking hands with Appadocca, bade
+him good night with that melancholy sympathy which only true and
+disinterested friendship can inspire.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+    “No, no: ’tis all men’s office to speak patience
+    To those that wring under the load of sorrow
+    But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency
+    To be so moral when he shall indure
+    The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel
+    My griefs cry louder than advertisement.”
+
+                              MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
+
+
+The next night, about the same hour, Charles Hamilton again betook
+himself to the cabin-prison of Appadocca, who resumed his narrative as he
+had promised.
+
+“When I arrived at Jamaica, I proceeded at once,” he continued, “to San
+Domingo, where I knew there were many at that time to whom the world was
+as disgusting as it was to myself, and who, I judged, would be the proper
+instruments to aid me in my schemes. The French revolution had torn up
+whole families together, from the soil on which they had been rooted for
+generations, and had driven them to distant countries for protection and
+subsistence. They had carried with them, to their new homes, a strong
+hatred for their then democratic country, in particular, and for the
+whole world in general. For suffering tends not to soften the feelings
+or expand the heart. Pain, either mental or bodily, sours the sweetest
+nature, and it requires the strongest fortitude to endure it without
+anger.—Even Zeno strangled himself when he had known pain.
+
+“Among such men only who hated the world from having, like myself,
+experienced injustice, I thought I could live. When I arrived at San
+Domingo, I found that even my anticipations were exceeded. I found the
+exiles existing in a state of cynical philosophy, in the midst of the
+virgin forests that covered the island. They lived in rude huts, erected
+apart from each other, which they called boucans. There they passed their
+lives in the society only of their dogs, and of their apprentices or
+servants, that jointly aided them in the chase by which they subsisted.
+
+“The instinct of active pleasure seemed entirely eradicated from their
+hearts; for after the day’s work was done, and they had killed the
+animal which promised them food for a few days, they usually stretched
+themselves on their bed of reeds, and sullenly smoked away their waking
+hours.
+
+“This life was so congenial to one who had suffered much, that I
+should have settled myself with the others, amidst the solitude of the
+wilderness, and would have there prosecuted the studies with which my
+existence was so strongly wrapped, if I had not a vow to fulfil.
+
+“How seductive soever I thought those boucans to be, I was obliged to
+abandon the idea of enjoying the calm quiet, which they promised, and to
+form a scheme to carry into effect the resolution which I had taken.
+
+“I was not long in San Domingo, before I met some of my fellow students
+of the French University, who, as belonging to the old aristocracy, were
+banished from France. I found them disgusted with the arduous life which
+they were obliged to lead, and fretting over the destiny which had,
+with so little justice, deprived them of so much at home, to allow them
+so little in their new country. I availed myself of their impatience,
+and proposed to them a life which was by far less monotonous than that
+which they then followed, and which, beside, was attended with greater
+gain—to say nothing of the opportunity which it would afford of avenging
+themselves on men, and not on harmless brutes. They received my proposal
+with acclamation.
+
+“On the spur of the moment we procured a vessel. I was elected captain,
+and we went in search of adventures on the high seas. I led my followers
+on wrecklessly in action, and at other times, I kept them under an iron
+discipline. The success of my enterprizes gave greater weight to my
+position, to which I had been elevated, only from a great respect with
+which it seemed they regarded my character. I was consequently enabled
+to develope my original plan more and more. The time at last arrived—I
+sailed to Trinidad.
+
+“By going ashore in disguise, and by a variety of other means, I learnt
+that my father was about to take passage in a ship for England. I
+watched the sailing of the vessel, and captured her some days after her
+departure. Then I effected that which I had designed, and attempted
+to make him undergo the same miseries, to which he had subjected me.
+Chance, however, seems to have rescued him; and, as you see, through his
+instrumentality I am now a prisoner.”
+
+“And I hope, Emmanuel,” said the young officer, “you will now consider
+your vow as performed, and will cease to follow up this course of
+unnatural enmity to him who gave you life.”
+
+“Cease!” exclaimed Appadocca, “cease! men of my cast never ‘cease!’ What
+I do, I do from reason: and as long as I am under the domination of that
+power, you need not fear that I shall ever ‘cease.’ I have long buried
+impulse, and I endeavour to act up to the dictates of the mind. Do not
+imagine that I could have sacrificed my life—by the ordinary standard of
+existence but only half spent—and devoted it to the attainment of an end,
+and then stop, and fold my arms because a slight accident has happened
+to cross me in my schemes. No—no. Be it again recorded that I now renew
+the vow which I made twelvemonths ago. I again devote my life to the
+vindication of that natural law which has been violated in....”
+
+“Stop! Emmanuel,” cried the young officer, with warmth, as he stood
+quickly up, and grasped the uplifted arm of Appadocca, “do not—for
+G—d’s sake—for my sake—for your own sake, make another diabolical vow.
+Emmanuel, you must know you cannot but afflict your friends by choosing
+to remain in this unfortunate mesh in which you have entangled the
+intellect and the heart that God has granted to you. I curse the day
+that the name of this father of yours was ever made known to you; it has
+led you to the perversion of your natural faculties, to the branding
+of yourself with the stigma of parricide—against which all nature
+revolts—and to your flying in the very face of Heaven.”
+
+And the officer seemed deeply afflicted.
+
+The captain still maintained his calm indifference, and, after the lapse
+of a few seconds, said—
+
+“Parricide—hum! and what would you have called, perchance, the act of the
+father if the child had actually died of starvation? what if life had
+ebbed from sheer inanition? You look only on the right of the parent and
+not on that of the child, who, be it said, has a double claim—a claim
+that nature gives him, and one which he inherits from the measure of
+kindness and protection that his grandfather manifested to his immediate
+progenitor when he himself was the child. You say, too, that all nature
+revolts against the parricide—as you call it: error,—nature revolts
+only against injustice. All things are entitled to a certain measure of
+justice; and the natural contract between parent and child is based on
+the condition that, as the former has loved the latter, and protected
+its infancy, the latter, will yield obedience, honor, and respect, and
+gratitude to him. Where the condition be not fulfilled, the contract, by
+necessity, ceases, the child becomes absolved from his obligation; and if
+he resents more than ordinary wrongs that may have been done to him, he
+can assume, with all approbation of moral philosophy—nay, nature calls
+upon him to undertake the office of avenger, and to vindicate her law. I
+am no parricide!
+
+“You need not fear that I shall prostitute the faculties with which you
+are pleased to say God has gifted me; and, as for my flying in the face
+of Heaven, in that respect you deceive yourself.
+
+“I war not against God. On the contrary: recognise in me but the mere
+tool of His justice. To believe that the Almighty could thus look on,
+on crimes, and tie the hand of the avenger, is to suppose no just God.
+No—no, the only difference between your sentiments and mine are, that
+you imagine He reserves his rewards and punishments to be meted out in
+Heavens and in hells—and I, on my part, can demonstrate, and consequently
+must, and do believe that he uses a less cumbrous machinery, and makes
+law—law which he instituted and impressed on things,—the regulator of his
+creation, and the vindicator of itself. No: as long as I live, I shall
+make it the end of my existence to prosecute the unworthy author of my
+days, until the world shall learn by a dire deed that it is contrary to
+justice to give life to a sentient being, then abandon it; and that all
+organised creatures are endowed with sensibility to make them feel, and
+spirit to make them resent injuries.”
+
+“You have sunk yourself,” replied the officer, who seemed more inclined
+to follow out his own opinions, than to give ear to the arguments of
+Appadocca, “sufficiently deep in crimes, Emmanuel, without taking any
+additional vows to load yourself more heavily with them. You may have
+suffered grievous injuries, I do not gainsay, but why should privations
+have led you to the vile course of robbing and thieving?”
+
+“Robbery and thieving?”
+
+“Yes, robbery and thieving: for how otherwise can I designate piracy?”
+
+“Ha! I see,” replied Appadocca, controlling himself, “I see you have
+either not gone far enough into philosophy, or that you blind yourself to
+its lights. If I am guilty of piracy, you, too—the whole of mankind is
+guilty of the very same sort of crime.”
+
+“What do you mean by this?” asked Hamilton.
+
+“Simply, that which my words convey,” replied Appadocca.
+
+“Perhaps you will explain yourself more amply?” suggested Hamilton.
+
+“Well,” rejoined Appadocca, “what I mean is plain enough, and it is this,
+that the whole of the civilized world turns, exists, and grows enormous
+on the licensed system of robbing and thieving, which you seem to
+criminate so much. The barbarous hordes, whose fathers, either choice or
+some unlucky accident, originally drove to some cold, frozen, cheerless,
+and fruitless waste, increasing in numbers, wincing under the inclemency
+of their clime and the poverty of their land, and longing after the
+richer, and more fertile, and teeming soil of some other country,
+desert their wretched regions, and with all the machinery of war, melt
+down on the unprovoking nations, whose only crime is their being more
+fortunate and blest, and wrench from their enervated sway the prosperous
+fields that first provoked their famished cupidity. The people which
+a convenient position, either on a neck of land, or the elbow of some
+large river, first consolidated, developed, and enriched, after having
+appropriated, through the medium of commerce, the wealth of its immediate
+neighbours, sends forth its numerous and powerful ships to scour the
+seas, to penetrate into hitherto unknown regions, where discovering new
+and rich countries, they, in the name of civilization, first open an
+intercourse with the peaceful and contented inhabitants, next contrive to
+provoke a quarrel, which always terminates in a war that leaves them the
+conquerors and possessors of the land. As for the original inhabitants
+themselves, they are driven after the destruction of their cities, to
+roam the woods, and to perish and disappear on the advance of their
+greedy supplanters. Nations that are different only in the language
+with which they vent their thoughts, inhabiting the same portions of
+the globe, and separated but by a narrow stream, eagerly watch the
+slightest inclination of accident in their respective favours, and on
+the plea, either of religion—that fertile theme, and ready instigator—or
+on the still more extensive and uncertain ground of politics, use the
+chance that circumstances throw into their hands, make incursions and
+fight battles, whose fruits are only misery and wretchedness. A fashion
+springs up at a certain time to have others to labour for our benefit,
+and to bear ‘the heat and burthen of the day’ in our stead: straightway,
+the map of the world is opened, and the straggling and weakest portions
+of a certain race, whose power of bodily and mental endurance, renders
+them the likely objects to answer this end, are chosen. The coasts of
+the country on which nature has placed them, are immediately lined with
+ships of acquisitive voyagers, who kidnap and tear them away from the
+scenes that teem with the associations of their own and their fathers’
+happiness, load them with irons, throw them into the cruel ordeal of the
+‘middle passage,’ to test whether they are sufficiently iron-constituted
+as to survive the starvation, stench, and pestilential contagion which
+decide the extent of the African’s endurance, and fix his value. This,
+my dear friend is an abstracted idea of the manner in which the world
+turns. But, as we used to say when we were younger, and happier, ‘in
+generalibus latet fraus,’ allow me to descend to particulars, and to
+bring my observations more closely home to society as now constituted.
+In all the various parts which form its whole, you will be able to trace
+the same spirit to which I impliedly referred in viewing the conduct of
+congregated individuals,—nations. You find those whom fortune has called
+to the first place in the state, instead of exerting their intellect to
+the utmost stretch, and expanding their heart to its greatest width,
+for the wise and virtuous government, and for the development of the
+happiness of those who are subjected to their rule, wasting their time in
+the pursuit of the most shadowy gewgaws, squandering, in empty vanities,
+the tax-extorted treasures of their subjects—treasures that could have
+preserved the flame of many a light of humanity, whose doom it has been
+to flicker for a moment in a garret, and be for ever extinguished; or
+pampering their already over-fed bodies to the point that sensitive
+reason refuses to longer hold together with such masses of matter.
+Those again in secondary spheres, use the authority with which they are
+invested, not with the keen discernment of delicate justice, but on
+the spur and press of passion. Is there some conquered people to be
+governed?—they send their weak-minded, afflicted, and helpless friends
+or relatives to govern those whose ancestors gave philosophy, religion,
+and government to the world, but who must now themselves stoop, to cut
+wood, and to carry water, when, by the common rules of justice, they
+should be permitted to enjoy the land from which they have sprung, and to
+participate in its dignities.
+
+“What villainous case is there, that with the ready fee, does not find
+the well-turned and silvery measures of the orator to palm it forth.
+The widow’s mite, or the prince’s prerogative, may depend upon the
+issue,—’tis all the same. Poverty and utter want may follow the words of
+the cunning speaker, and rascality and villainy may rise triumphant,—what
+matters it?
+
+“At the side of suffering humanity stands the willing doctor, and plies,
+and plies the rich patient with make-show drugs.
+
+“From the pulpit invectives flow, for the voice of religion; charity
+yields to controversy; the denunciation of other’s condemned and
+re-condemned errors supply the place of the practice of benevolence; and
+in the name of that Christ, who came with ‘peace and goodwill to man’,
+evil passions are roused, daggers whetted, and massacres sanctified;
+while he, who, with spectacles on nose, and twang in voice, moves the
+ready machine, grins in his closet over the glittering gold that his
+lectures, invectives, panegyrics, and homilies, bring in.
+
+“This is not all. Are you hungry? the baker sends you bread compounded
+with pestilential stuffs, grows rich, visits the church, sympathises with
+heathen savages, and sends delegates to call them within the bosom of his
+sweet civilization. Are you thirsty? the herb that nature furnishes you
+for your refreshment is taken and turned, and painted, and fried till it
+becomes poison, and then given you with balmy smiles.
+
+“The world can be compared to a vast marsh, abounding with monster
+alligators that devour the smaller creatures, and then each other.”
+
+“Apply your argument, Appadocca,” said Hamilton, “for I do not properly
+feel its force.”
+
+“The application follows, naturally, my dear Charles,” replied Appadocca.
+“It is this: If I take away from the merchant whose property very likely
+consists of the accumulation of exorbitant and excessive profits, the
+sugar which by the vice of mortgages he wrings at a nominal price from
+the debt-ridden planter, who, in his turn, robs the unfortunate slave
+of his labour, I take what is ethically not his property, therefore, I
+commit no robbery. For, it is clear, he who wrenches away from the hands
+of another, that which the holder is not entitled to, does no wrong.”
+
+“Hum,” groaned Hamilton, “nice distinction.”
+
+“To myself I am unstained,” continued Appadocca, “notwithstanding the
+necessity that made me require the aid of expediency. No man can say that
+Emmanuel Appadocca ever fed his pirates with the lawful property of any
+one.”
+
+A considerable pause ensued.
+
+“But it strikes me, Emmanuel,” said Hamilton, resuming the conversation,
+“you forget, in your observations, that commerce, and the voyages which
+you seem to censure so much by implication, are the proper stimulants to
+civilization and human cultivation.”
+
+“A very vulgar error, my dear Charles, and quite unworthy of your
+father’s son,” replied Appadocca. “The human mind does not require to be
+pioneered by Gog and Magog in order to improve. It is not in the busy
+mart, not at the tinkling of gold, that it grows and becomes strong; nor
+is it on the shaft of the steam-engine which propels your huge fabrics
+to rich though savage shores that it increases. No: there it degenerates
+and falls into the mere thing whose beginning is knack, whose end is
+knack. The mind can thrive only in the silence that courts contemplation.
+It was in such silence that among a race, which is now despised and
+oppressed, speculation took wing, and the mind burst forth, and, scorning
+things of earth, scaled the heavens, read the stars, and elaborated
+systems of philosophy, religion, and government: while the other parts of
+the world were either enveloped in darkness, or following in eager and
+uncontemplative haste the luring genii of riches. Commerce makes steam
+engines and money—it assists not the philosophical progress of the mind.”
+
+“I cannot admire this strange and extraordinary theory, Emmanuel,”
+answered the young officer, evidently disposed to terminate this
+startling conversation.
+
+“You may call it strange and extraordinary, if you please,” answered
+Appadocca; “but it is not the less true on account of its novelty: it is
+scarcely to be expected to commend itself to the world I know, because,
+forsooth, it is new and strange: although the systems and notions which
+are now as familiar as household terms, were, once upon a time, quite as
+new, strange, and extraordinary. Mankind is doomed to draw its venerative
+and uninquiring self along. Science cannot accelerate its unwilling
+movements. For my part, I shall cling to my own doctrine, and shall give
+an account of my actions to a Supreme Being, when the time arrives to do
+so.”
+
+“Well, well, I shall not discuss such points with you,” replied the
+officer, “I cannot congratulate myself on possessing wits sharp enough
+to cut through your strings of subtilities, I give up, therefore, these
+unprofitable points: my instincts, I must declare, are against piracy.”
+
+“Instincts, indeed!” partly interjected Appadocca, “another stumbling
+block, and obstacle to science. There are no such things as instincts in
+man: he alone is distinguished from the rest of organic beings by the
+indefiniteness of his mind and sensibilities. The habits in which men
+are brought up, the notions of ignorance which they have compounded and
+adopted they call instincts, and thus saddle wise and good nature with an
+amount of absurdities that would make her blush, if she were conscious of
+the faults which she is made to bear on the ground of having implanted,
+in the human breast, feelings which are as ridiculous as they are false.
+As for you, Charles, I am somewhat surprised at you. It is clear you
+have not improved since you left the university. The time that you had
+for contemplation during your student’s life, ought to have produced
+better fruits than an unconditional adoption of the vague notions of the
+unreflecting, as soon as you found yourself among them.
+
+“Pardon the freedom with which I speak—our friendship alone has made me
+depart from the usual silence which I invariably maintain.”
+
+“No—no apology is necessary, my dear Emmanuel—I know you—I know you!
+Besides, we have always observed, that those who are endowed with a
+certain amount of intellect, like the pendulum of a clock, are liable to
+go as far from a given centre, in one direction as in the other. But let
+us drop this topic, and think of your safety. I have heard your story,
+and really I am not surprised that such a sensitive individual as you
+should have been driven by so much injustice to a course which, with
+all my sympathy towards you, I cannot but denounce. Appadocca, we have
+seen happy and innocent days together, before either injury had driven
+you into—into—crime, or the business of the world had thrown part of its
+cares upon me: I could not stand with my arms folded and see you tried
+like a malefactor, and, perhaps, end your life under the hands of a vile
+hangman: I have formed a plan to facilitate your escape.”
+
+“A plan to facilitate my escape?”
+
+“Yes, I am in high command on board this ship, and I have men who are
+devoted to me. This very night you will be put on shore.”
+
+A pause ensued,—in which Appadocca seemed buried in deep reflection;
+while Charles Hamilton, quite surprised by the coldness manifested on the
+announcement of what he considered the happiest news to a prisoner,—the
+prospects of escape—grew gradually pale, and paler as the truth began to
+break upon him that his friend, from some strange doctrine of his own,
+might obstinately refuse to consult his safety, and to avail himself of
+the means of escape, which Hamilton could lay in his power.
+
+After the lapse of a few minutes, Appadocca grasped the hand of the young
+officer.
+
+“No, no,” he said, “Charles, I esteem you too much, and venerate the law
+of nature too much, to avail myself of this kindness. Recollect that
+confidence is placed in you; you are bound to use it scrupulously, else
+retribution will surely follow any breach of it. I thank you from the
+bottom of my heart for your good intention, but I cannot,—I will not
+accept your offer. If I escape, I shall do so without compromising any
+person, least of all, one of my oldest, and most esteemed friends.”
+
+“I was not aware,” replied the young officer, somewhat piqued, “that I
+required to be reminded of the confidence which is here placed in me: be
+not, however, so foolish as to refuse my offer, let me entreat you.”
+
+“Do not press me.”
+
+“I stake my friendship on your acceptance,” said the officer with some
+determination. “He who refuses the good offices of a friend when he
+requires them, especially in a case of life and death, can have no proper
+feeling for him who proffers them, and he is, to boot—a fool. Good night,
+Emmanuel,” continued the officer, getting up, somewhat angry, “I give you
+until to-morrow to think of what I have offered.—Good night.”
+
+The officer went out of the cabin, and Appadocca was left by himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+    —“I’ll serve his mind with my best will.”
+
+                            TIMON OF ATHENS.
+
+
+A short time after the capture of Emmanuel Appadocca, there might be
+observed a narrow canoe, with a single individual in it, far out at sea,
+apparently going still farther out,—for it was lustily paddled against
+the long sweeping waves that seemed at every moment to be about to bury
+the frail bark under their heavy volumes.
+
+The trade wind, which still blew, seemed to impede the progress of the
+canoe, and it was evident that the solitary person, who sat in its stern,
+found it necessary to exert all his strength in order to make any headway.
+
+But whither away such a frail vessel in the immensity of the ocean, and
+still going farther out to sea? and what could be the design of the
+individual who seemed to brave so recklessly the fury of the waves?
+
+Upon closer observation it might have been perceived, that the person who
+sat alone at the stern of the canoe was our old acquaintance, Jack Jimmy.
+
+As soon as his master was captured, he had taken to flight, but not with
+the design of abandoning the interest of his young master, as he still
+called Appadocca. He had managed to insinuate himself among the coteries
+of boatmen and porters that skulked about the beach, and unobserved among
+them, he had been able to watch what befell his master. Effectually he
+saw Appadocca, when he was marched down a prisoner to the boat, and
+witnessed his embarkation. He discovered by his inquiries, that the boat
+belonged to the British man-of-war, that was then lying off the harbour,
+and heard the tale which had by that time become a nine day’s wonder of
+the place, “of a man who was taken by a pirate, thrown overboard, picked
+up by a vessel, and had come to St. Thomas’ after the pirate, and had had
+him taken.”
+
+Jack Jimmy had now gained sufficient intelligence; his own sagacity
+developed to him the whole extent of his master’s position.
+
+“Good bye, buddee,” he cried, as soon as he had heard the last word of
+the story, and set off, at the height of the speed at which his short
+legs would carry him, and left his wondering story-tellers in convulsive
+laughter at his apparent eccentricity.
+
+Jack Jimmy kept running in this manner for nearly two hours, without any
+abatement of the speed with which he had started. Perspiration flowed in
+torrents over his cheeks, and those who met him, stopped to stare at the
+individual who was so eccentrically giving himself such violent exercise
+while exposed to the scorching rays of a vertical sun.
+
+Jack Jimmy did not stop until he reached a secluded spot by the
+sea-shore, where, at the foot of two opposing hills, the sea had eaten
+away a deep recess, and had left as in exchange for the land which it had
+robbed, numbers of strange and beautiful shells, that paved the place.
+Within this natural shelter, some fishermen’s canoes were drawn up. Jack
+Jimmy looked around him carefully, and seeing no one at hand, he walked
+up to one of the canoes, and with two stones managed to grind asunder the
+small rope with which it was fastened to a stake, and then concentrating
+his powers, endeavoured to launch it. But his strength was not equal to
+the task: vainly he repeated his efforts—still no success—he gave up the
+task, for the moment, in despair, and sat on the ground and wept from
+vexation.
+
+His despair soon gave way to a fiercer feeling.
+
+“You must go in de water,” he cried, addressing the canoe, and rising
+in desperation, he applied his strength to it again;—it began to move
+a little, “Tenk Gad,” Jack Jimmy cried. Again another strain:—it moved
+again, and by little and little, Jack Jimmy got it nearer and nearer to
+the water’s edge: by one long and straining effort he finally succeeded
+in launching it.
+
+He sprang into it as soon as it was afloat, tore up one of the thwarts,
+and paddled with it vigorously out to sea.
+
+When he had got at a considerable distance from land he stopped.
+
+The sun was then sinking, shedding soft and sweet brilliancy over
+the evening hour. “Yes, me ’member,” said Jack Jimmy, “wen we lef de
+’chooner, you bin behind a wee”; and after having thus spoken to that
+luminary, and probably made his calculations, in his own original way, he
+steered the canoe towards the east, and continued the powerful use of his
+paddle until he arrived at the spot where the reader has discovered him.
+
+Jack Jimmy held his lonely course on the great ocean until next morning;
+when he discovered the pirate vessel at a distance. He redoubled his
+strokes, and made for her. In a short time he had gained her sides.
+
+Arriving alongside, he nimbly jumped on board, and threw himself flat on
+the deck, with his face downwards, and at the foot of Lorenzo, who was
+standing with a spy-glass in his hand at the gangway.
+
+The officer had perceived the small canoe, and on using his glass, he had
+discovered that the lonely individual in it was Jack Jimmy. His mind at
+once misgave him. The captain is taken was his first thought.
+
+It was with impatient anxiety, therefore, that he inquired of Jack Jimmy,
+when he got on deck, what had become of his master.
+
+The little negro shook his head convulsively at the question, and
+interjected, “Massa!” but seemed incapable of saying anything else.
+Lorenzo waited a few moments, but Jack Jimmy could say nothing more.
+
+“Speak, fellow,” cried he with vehemence, “where is the captain? Is—is—is
+he taken?”
+
+“Ah! Garamighty,” answered Jack Jimmy.
+
+“Will you speak, sir,” cried Lorenzo with fury. “Is your master taken?”
+
+Jack Jimmy shook his head violently again, and cried, “Yes, yes,
+Garamighty, massa, massa!” he continued, “big, big English ship, take
+massa.”
+
+“And where is the ship?”
+
+“In St. Thomas’, massa,” answered Jack Jimmy.
+
+“Make sail,” was Lorenzo’s immediate command; “keep her way.”
+
+The schooner immediately sheered off to the wind, and in an instant was
+bounding over the waves for St. Thomas’.
+
+When she neared the island, Lorenzo prudently cast her in the wind, and
+remained lying too until it was dark, at which time he drew nearer the
+harbour, and making use of a boat, recognoitred the “big English ship,”
+as Jack Jimmy had described it.
+
+After the officer had properly examined the large ship-of-war which held
+his chief captive, and had managed to elicit further and more explicit
+information from Jack Jimmy, whose excitement of nerves had now a little
+subsided, he began to think of the measures which he ought to take to
+effect the liberation of his friend and superior. His first impulse was
+to fife to arms, to attack the huge fabric, whose very sides seemed
+to frown destruction on the light schooner. Prudence, on reflection,
+however, forbad such a step. There was too great disproportion between
+the large ship and the small craft of the pirates, and between the
+armament and complement of the one and of the other; and even if, by
+a fierce and sudden assault, the pirates should carry the man-of-war,
+what chance was there of rescuing the chief? Probably he was secured
+in some deep recess below decks, whither, perhaps, even the roar of
+the ship’s guns could scarcely echo; and if even the comparatively few
+men that composed the crew of the schooner, could gain any advantage
+over the four-times more numerous complement of the ship, it could only
+amount to a mere temporary possession of the upper deck. Besides, the
+whole harbour, on the event of a combat, would be alarmed, and it was
+probable that the pirates, even if victors, would be entirely unable
+to contend against the multitudes which would be dispatched against
+them from the shore. “No, I must try other means,” thought the officer.
+After much deliberation, he at last resolved on the plan of watching
+the ship-of-war, and of discovering, by every possible means, in what
+part of the vessel Appadocca was confined, so that he might attempt a
+surreptitious entry on board, and carry away the prisoner.
+
+For that purpose he sent three men ashore in disguise, that they might
+procure as much information as possible. These were not long at a loss in
+devising means for doing so.
+
+The pirate schooner was manned by individuals who had been of a superior
+class in society, before they exiled themselves from it. Chiefly men of
+education, they were doubly dangerous in their illicit pursuits, inasmuch
+as they could bring to bear upon their purposes, the assistance of art,
+and the power of inventing.
+
+They easily disguised themselves when they were a-shore, as vendors of
+fruit, and as the other small dealers that may be seen of a-morning,
+in their little canoes around the ships at anchor, in the ports of the
+tropics.
+
+In their assumed course of bartering, they managed to elicit from the
+sailors of the man-of-war, intelligence about Appadocca, and the part of
+the vessel in which he was confined.
+
+As soon as they became possessed of as much information as they possibly
+could procure, they returned on board the schooner, and carefully
+narrated the sum of their observation to Lorenzo.
+
+Return we now to Appadocca himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+    “What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!”
+
+                                  ROMEO AND JULIET.
+
+
+The period accorded by the friendship of Charles Hamilton to the
+prisoner, for the acceptance or rejection of his offer to become the
+means of his escape, had now expired, and the two young friends were
+sitting together in the cabin-prison in which Appadocca was confined.
+
+“So you will not consent to put aside your insane notions and escape,
+when I place it in your power to do so?” said Charles Hamilton,
+dejectedly, and, at the same time, somewhat scornfully, twisting his
+whiskers.
+
+“No!” replied Appadocca with much decision.
+
+“Then,” replied the officer, “I shall have nothing farther to do with
+you; they may hang you, quarter you, and do, G—d knows what else to you.”
+
+“As for that matter,” answered Appadocca, affecting something like
+the same satire as his friend had used, “you may exercise your own
+discretion; but is it not a little absurd that, because I am not willing
+to sanction the mis-use of the authority which you possess on board
+your father’s ship, in your allowing me, who have been brought here a
+prisoner, to escape, that I, on that account, should lose your favor, and
+cease to be deemed worthy of your notice, even if I should happen to be
+hanged, quartered, and done G—d knows what else to?” and Appadocca smiled
+good-naturedly.
+
+“This is the second time, Emmanuel, that you have adverted to my
+authority on board this ship, and reflected on my conduct in endeavouring
+to befriend you: I hope it may be the last. You must recollect that I
+am an Englishman, and an English officer, and I consider that I possess
+as delicate a sense of honor and as great a knowledge of duty as any
+gentleman whosoever.”
+
+“And I,” replied Appadocca, “I am an animal,—sub-kingdom, vertebrata,
+genus homo, and species,—‘tropical American;’ naturalists lay my habitat
+all over the world, and declare me omnivorous. I do not pride myself on
+possessing merely such an indefinite thing as sense of honor, or great
+knowledge of duty; but observation has made me acquainted with the
+universal laws which nature has imposed upon us in order to secure to us
+contentment and happiness; and your wishing to make your station on board
+this vessel subservient to my escape is in opposition to one of those
+laws, the certain precursor of your own unhappiness, I shall not consent
+to it. Speak to me no more on this subject.”
+
+“If, Emmanuel, I had considered that my good faith was concerned in
+making an offer of escape to you, you may rely upon it. I should neither
+have attempted to lower myself in my own estimation, nor should I
+have subjected myself to the animadversion of your nice and exquisite
+philosophy. I shall use the same liberty of speech as you have done, and
+assume the right of telling you, that His Majesty’s ship, which my father
+has the honour to command, was built, fitted out, and sent to sea, for
+the purpose of fighting the enemies of England, and not for the purpose
+of scavenging for pirates and freebooters: my commission was granted for
+the same purpose. I consider, therefore, that this vessel ought not to be
+made the lock-up of accused individuals; nor ought my father be obliged
+to abet and to assist the malice of hard-hearted planters, or interfere
+in the actions of strangely arguing sons—I therefore consider myself
+bound by no honour in this affair; and I am, consequently, free to act as
+I please. I recognize in you my ancient and respected friend, and I offer
+you my assistance to escape. You may accept it or not—this is Saxon.”
+
+Charles Hamilton spoke this with considerable warmth and seriousness.
+
+“Bravely spoken, Charles,” said Appadocca, “and, although part of your
+speech may have sounded harsh to ears more unwilling than mine to hear
+the truth, still I admire you for it. Why did you not speak out in
+this manner before. You may depend upon it, man, it is always better
+to express one-self boldly, throw aside expediency, and bring out the
+truth, which, though harsh and unpleasant, is, nevertheless, the truth,
+and must be told. What is there to be feared? A proper man has nothing
+worth keeping, which he should apprehend to lose, save his honour and his
+spirit of rectitude. What though interest-seekers quake in their coats
+lest their smoothly-varnished opinions should not draw the approbation of
+their fastidious patrons: a man, worthy of the name, must follow out the
+spirit of his manliness, and that is all. Take the furious bull—society,
+by the horns, and though its lurid eyes shine fire upon you, nay, though
+it gore you, shout out your truths still higher than its bellowings; and
+when its madness-fit is over, your truths shall live, nay, ride it even
+as a broken-spirited ass.
+
+“Men of such boldness there have been, who, Lycurgus-like, have exiled
+themselves from all to throw their truths into the world. Society may
+have branded them, starved them, cursed them, and driven them into
+hovels, there to perish and to rot, but they have ever re-risen in their
+thoughts, and now their names receive, on the bended knee, the unbounded
+veneration of mankind.
+
+“Still I will not accept your proposal.”
+
+“But for G—d’s sake, Emmanuel, speak seriously,” said Hamilton, hastily,
+“you surely do not intend to let this obstinacy of yours prevent your
+escape;” and the young officer looked anxiously in Appadocca’s face.
+
+It would appear that, notwithstanding the previous refusal of his friend,
+he never contemplated but that at the last moment he would avail himself
+of his assistance and escape.
+
+“Call me obstinate, as you may,” replied Appadocca, “I shall not accept
+your offer.”
+
+“Then is it possible that you seriously refuse to save your life?”
+
+“Not I, by Heaven,” replied Appadocca.
+
+“Then why not adopt my proposal at once?”
+
+“Because my doing so will not only involve a breach of discipline, but
+will also compromise your honour,—two sacrifices which we must pronounce
+disproportioned, when we consider the very small necessity that demands
+them.”
+
+“Do you recollect that death will be your sentence?” eagerly demanded
+Charles.
+
+“I do recollect it,” answered Appadocca. “And pray, what is death?”
+
+The latter part of the question was put with such cynical coldness, that
+Charles Hamilton found himself unwittingly silenced.
+
+He remained tongue-tied for a few moments, and with the greatest
+embarrassment repeated the question of Appadocca. “What is death, you
+ask?”
+
+“Ay, what is death, I ask? let your embarrassment repeat the question,”
+remarked Appadocca.
+
+“Why, death,” replied the young officer, “death is—is—is the—the highest
+of all—of all human punishments—and sufferings.”
+
+“Remarkably fine,” replied Appadocca, with some satire, “remarkably
+fine, I once entertained better hopes of you, Charles Hamilton, when you
+were at College; but now I find, that like all other persons, you have
+thought, that it was necessary to cultivate the intellect, only during
+the time when you were at college,—that you were to live in mind, or
+rather, according to the dictates of your reason, as long as you were
+there; but that as soon as you became emancipated from your scholastic
+thraldom, throwing aside convictions, you were to live entirely in body,
+merely copying the bad habits of most men, which they self-deludingly
+style instincts. You speak and think absolutely like those animals that
+are driven above decks there by your orders, and who turn their tobacco
+in their cheeks, bellow forth their strange and meaningless oaths, and
+pull the ropes, by precisely the same moving power as one of your guns
+sends forth its iron and brimstone charge, when fire is applied to
+the touch-hole. That distinguishing essential which we, with so much
+complaisance, place on ourselves, to divide us from quadrupeds and our
+other fellow habitants of this earth—reason, is as much consulted as
+the stars. You observe the whole of organized life clinging to the idea
+of preservation, that they may continue for a brief period the state
+in which they happen to find themselves, and permitting this idea, in
+sympathy with the herd of men, to grow unreasoned in you, you fancy
+that I, also, should start from death with the same fear, and consent
+to depart from the course of conduct which my intellect prescribes to
+me, for the mere purpose of avoiding it. You do not consider what really
+is life, and less, perhaps, what is death. If millions of men are
+content to cultivate a sluggish existence, and shrink from ennobling
+enterprizes, in order that they may avoid this bugbear with which they
+ignorantly frighten themselves; nay, if they can be worked upon by this
+terror to compromise the only imperishable part of our nature—the idea
+of self-respect or honour—you must not fancy that I, my dear Charles, am
+willing to do so, too!”
+
+“If you are not, I can only say your instincts are ajar,” observed the
+young officer, who felt himself again unable to answer Appadocca.
+
+“There, you speak of instincts again: I have no instincts. If you mean
+certain ideas which are the necessary fruits of my organization, I shall
+observe, that far from their being ajar, they, on the contrary, are the
+only ones which are in harmony with whatever we know of nature and of its
+author.”
+
+“Hold, Emmanuel, do not go any further, you will be guilty of
+irreverence.”
+
+“Irreverence! it is not I who can be guilty of irreverence, it is you,
+and the rest of the ignorant world, that are ‘guilty of irreverence;’
+for, by surrounding death with the terror you do, and by considering
+it the greatest of earth’s afflictions, you effectually depreciate the
+goodness and consistency of the maker of all things.”
+
+“In what manner?” inquired the officer.
+
+“Listen to me, and you shall hear. The whole of this globe, you are
+aware, is animated. Every object here, from the fibrous and silken
+down that flies about, carrying the seed of some gigantic tree, to
+the mountains of consolidated rock, is the theatre of life; and that
+theatre itself possesses a peculiar animation of its own, or laws of
+self-development. The various forms and shapes which people these things,
+vary in their periods of existence from centuries to the incalculable and
+indivisible points of time, which human ingenuity has hitherto deemed
+it idle to note. You have the birds of the desert, the huge animals
+whose years are to be counted but by the hundred; you have again the
+infinitesimal insect, which comes into existence this moment to depart
+the next; so that in the shortest space of time that man can calculate,
+nature ushers into life millions of millions of sentient beings, to
+sweep them away again with the same rapidity with which they are made.
+This earth on which this process takes place has existed, as far as we
+can discover with certainty, for several thousands of years, so that
+millions of millions of beings have continually perished during every
+short moment into which the numberless days of those thousands of years
+can possibly be divided. To consider that death is so dreadful as it is
+supposed to be, when we find it on such an amazingly extensive scale,
+and principally, also, among creatures whose only apparent happiness is
+the mere possession of life itself, is to call the Ordainer of these
+things cruel—which is untrue, or, as we used to say long ago, ‘reductio
+ad absurdum.’ What you choose to convert into the horrible and dreadful,
+is only the working of a wise and general law—that of transition: we live
+here to-day in one shape, to live to-morrow in a different one. Man has
+stupidly shut his eyes to this fact as he has done to many other things,
+and pitifully mourns over the action of a universal and useful law.”
+
+“Emmanuel, I am a plain sailor, and do not pretend to deal in niceties
+of logical distinction,” replied Charles, “and although it is not my
+purpose to continue this very peculiar conversation, still I must ask, if
+our death is merely a transition from one state to another, how is it,
+that when we have entered into our new condition, we do not retain any
+consciousness of our previous existence.”
+
+“The answer is plain enough,” answered Appadocca, “when the harp is
+unstrung the sounds depart: when we change from one condition to another,
+we necessarily cease to be of the first, else there should be no change
+at all: and as our consciousness of that condition was merely a natural
+consequence or effect of it, it follows, that when the cause ceases, the
+effect must necessarily cease also.”
+
+Appadocca remained silent for a while.
+
+“And as for the ignominy,” he continued, “of a death on the scaffold, for
+such a crime as the one which is imputed to me, it is purely ridiculous.
+It is not because mankind may be eager to alter, by their vote, the
+nature of things, that these things become intrinsically changed.”
+
+Appadocca stopped, apparently expecting Charles Hamilton to speak; but
+he, however, was anxiously gazing on the side of the ship, and was
+apparently intent on listening to some sound that it seemed he heard.
+
+“Did you hear that?” he at last asked, in a low tone.
+
+“What?”
+
+“Hush!—do you not hear that sound?”
+
+“Hum! Perhaps—I think I do; I think—I—I—hum! I—know it,” answered
+Appadocca, while his face brightened up a little.
+
+The officer drew nearer to the side of the ship to listen—Appadocca
+remained where he was.
+
+The dull sounds of muffled instruments could now be distinctly heard.
+From its direction, it could be easily discovered that these instruments
+were applied to the dead light, which had been carefully battened in for
+greater security against the prisoner’s escape. The sounds continued, and
+the sharp point of a large chisel, with which some individual from the
+outside was endeavouring to wrench away part of the cover, was now seen
+through the dead light of the ship.
+
+The young officer looked round inquiringly at Appadocca, but met, in the
+gaze of that individual, only the coldness that characterised him.
+
+“An attack, an attack!” he cried, and rushed out of the cabin. His
+instincts, as he called them, at once belying the ingenious arguments
+with which he had lulled his spirit of honor, when his friendship for
+Appadocca interposed.
+
+He arrived on deck in time to hear the sharp challenge of the marine on
+duty.
+
+“Who is there?” no answer was made to the challenge.
+
+The guard was called out. The marine fired. In return only a derisive
+shout arose from a boat that was now moving away in the darkness. One,
+two, three volleys were fired in succession, when the angry voice of a
+man was heard from the boat.
+
+“Cowards!” he cried, “come after us, and do not expend your ammunition
+foolishly.”
+
+It was the voice of Lorenzo.
+
+On hearing the reports of the spies that he had sent on shore, that
+faithful officer had formed the plan of carrying Appadocca silently away
+from the cabin in which he was confined. For that purpose, he had waited
+until the night was far spent, and with a few trusty men had cautiously
+approached the man-of-war.
+
+The pirate party came in a boat that was greased all over on the outside,
+and which was propelled by muffled oars.
+
+The men were all dressed in black, and wore for the occasion, dark
+woollen caps, which were drawn over their heads so as perfectly to
+conceal their faces. They had boarded the ship for about half an hour,
+and two men were working away vigorously; the blows of the covered mallet
+drove their muffled chisels more and more deeply into the chinks of the
+dead light.
+
+“Have you nearly got through, Gustave?” inquired Lorenzo, the
+enterprising officer of Appadocca.
+
+“Nearly, senor,” answered the man.
+
+“Thanks to Providence,” muttered Lorenzo, “Appadocca will be rescued.”
+
+O disappointment wherefore dost thou exist? The words had scarcely
+escaped Lorenzo when a splashing noise was heard near the man-of-war.
+
+The sailors, as is customary with them, when their ship is at anchor, in
+order to improve their opportunities, had hung out a fishing line. As
+adverse fate would have it, at the very moment when the party of Lorenzo
+was about completing a breach in the cabin in which their captain was
+confined, a large shark happened to take the bait. Pricked by the hook,
+the fish began to swim furiously around the ship, beating about with its
+huge tail. The water immediately became covered with foam, and the noise
+increased more and more.
+
+“Jump up, Domingo,” said Lorenzo, when he perceived the imminent danger
+of discovery which they ran from the noise that the creature was making
+in the water, “jump up and cut away that cursed thing.”
+
+But it was too late: attracted by the splashes made by the shark, the
+sentinel looked over the bulwarks, and perceived the man that was
+just sliding himself down the chains of the man-of-war, after having
+dexterously cut away the line by which the fish was caught.
+
+The pirates had no alternative but flight, and they were quickly making
+away when the young officer got on deck.
+
+Part of the crew of the large vessel was called out, the boats were
+manned, and sent after the mysterious visitors. But it was of no avail:
+those who had gone in chase shortly afterwards returned, and reported
+that they could discover nothing of the boat.
+
+The circumstance was duly reported to the commander. After much
+consideration on such a mysterious adventure, the latter wisely concluded
+that the party of the pirate captain were in those waters, and that their
+approach to the ship was for the purpose of attempting his rescue.
+
+Further, on examination, marks of the tools were made out on the
+deadlight of Appadocca’s cabin. He himself was narrowly questioned, but
+he stated with perfect truth, that he knew nothing of the matter.
+
+Orders were then given to weigh anchor at the dawn of the next day.
+
+                              END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75313 ***