The Project Gutenberg EBook of Will Weatherhelm, by W.H.G. Kingston

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Title: Will Weatherhelm
       The Yarn of an Old Sailor

Author: W.H.G. Kingston

Illustrator: Archibald Webb

Release Date: May 16, 2007 [EBook #21505]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILL WEATHERHELM ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Will Weatherhelm, The Yarn of an Old Sailor, by W.H.G. Kingston.

________________________________________________________________________

This is quite a long book, estimated to take sixteen hours forty minutes
to read.  It was also quite difficult to transcribe, since the type was
probably a bit old.  Certainly it was a rather small typeface, and was
broken up in places.  Nevertheless we think we have got the text to
better than the prescribed 99.95% accurate, with an expected error rate
of less than eighty words in the 164,896 of the text.

The action takes place at the end of the eighteenth century, and ends at
the Battle of Trafalgar.  Will's family originate from Shetland, a group
of islands to the north of mainland Britain.  Kingston mistakenly
believes that they speak Erse on Shetland, which is not the case: Erse
is spoken in Ireland, being similar to the Gaelic spoken in parts of
Scotland.

The story moves along well, and is well-written. The most outstanding
part of the story is the number of times the hero is in a ship-wreck of
one kind or another, so much so that it is muttered that he must be some
kind of Jonah--an opportunity used by the author to put the religious
view of such a string of coincidences.

I think you'll enjoy the book.  I know I have enjoyed transcribing it
for you.

________________________________________________________________________

WILL WEATHERHELM, THE YARN OF AN OLD SAILOR, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.



CHAPTER ONE.

MY FATHER'S LAND--BORN AT SEA--MY SCHOOL LIFE--AUNT BRETTA--SPOILT BY
OVER-INDULGENCE--ENTICED TO SEA--THE KITE SCHOONER--CONTRAST OF A VESSEL
IN PORT WITH A VESSEL AT SEA--MY SHIPMATES--MY NAME FIXED IN MORE WAYS
THAN ONE--A GALE--REPENTANCE COMES TOO LATE--SUSPICIOUS CUSTOMERS--A
NARROW ESCAPE--NAPLES AND ITS BAY.

My father, Eric Wetherholm, was a Shetlander.  He was born in the Isle
of Unst, the most northern of those far-off islands, the Shetlands.  He
loved his native land, though it might be said to be somewhat backward
in point of civilisation; though no trees are to be found in it much
larger than gooseberry bushes, or cattle bigger than sheep; though its
climate is moist and windy, and its winter days but of a few hours'
duration.  But, in spite of these drawbacks, it possesses many points to
love, many to remember.  Wild and romantic, and, in some places, grand
scenery, lofty and rocky precipices, sunny downs and steep hills, deep
coves with clear water, in which the sea-trout can be seen swimming in
shoals, and, better still, kind, honest, warm hearts, modest women with
sweet smiles, and true, honest men.

Once only in my youth was I there.  I remember well, on a bright
summer's day, standing on one of the highest of its lofty hills,
sprinkled with thousands of beautiful wild-flowers, and as I looked over
the hundreds of isles and islets of every variety of form, grouping
round the mainland, as the largest island is called, I thought that in
all my wanderings I had never seen a greener or more lovely spot
floating on a surface of brighter blue; truly I felt proud of the region
which my poor father claimed as the place of his birth.  I knew very
little of his early history.  Like the larger proportion of Shetland
men, he followed the sea from his boyhood, and made several voyages, on
board a whaler, to Baffin's Bay.  Once his ship had been nipped by the
ice, whirled helplessly against an iceberg, when he alone with two
companions escaped the destruction which overwhelmed her.  Finally he
returned home, and, sickened of voyages in icy regions, became mate of a
merchantman trading out of the port of Hull round the English coast.  On
one occasion, his brig having received severe damage in a heavy gale,
put into Plymouth harbour to obtain repairs.  He there met an old
shipmate, John Trevelyn, who had given up the sea and settled with his
family on shore.

John had a daughter, Jannet Trevelyn, and a sweet, good girl I am very
certain she must have been.  Before the brig sailed my father obtained
her promise to marry him.  He shortly returned, when she became his
wife, and accompanied him to Shetland.  But the damp, cold climate of
that northern land was a sore trial to her constitution, accustomed, as
she had been, to the soft air of her native Devonshire, and she
entreated that he would rather take her with him to sea than leave her
there.  Fortunately, as he considered it, the owners of the brig he had
served in offered him the command of another of their vessels, and he
was able to fulfil the wishes of his wife, as well as to please his own
inclination, though for her sake he would rather have left her in safety
on shore, for he too well knew all the dangers and hardships of the sea
to desire to expose her to them.

My father had very few surviving relatives.  His mother and sister were
the only two of whom I know.  His father and two brothers had been lost
in the Greenland fishery, and several of his uncles and cousins had been
scattered about in different parts of the world, never to return to
their native islands.  When, therefore, he found that Shetland would not
suit my mother's health, he tried to persuade my grandmother and Aunt
Bretta to accompany him to Devonshire.  After many doubts and misgivings
as to how they could possibly live in that warm country far away to the
south among a strange people, who could not understand a word of Erse,
they at length, for love of him and his young wife, agreed to do as he
wished.  As soon as he was able he fetched them from Shetland to Hull,
whence he conveyed them to Plymouth in his own vessel, and left them
very comfortably settled in a little house of their own in the outskirts
of the town.  Though small, it was neat and pleasant, and they soon got
accustomed to the change, though they complained at first that the days
in summer were very short compared to those in their own country.  This
was the year before I was born.  My mother, though she had now a home
where she could have remained, was so reconciled to a sea life, and so
fond, I may say, of my father, that she preferred living on board his
vessel to the enjoyment of all the comforts of the shore.  On one
memorable occasion, a new brig he commanded, called the _Jannet
Trevelyn_, in compliment to my mother, was bound round from Hull to Cork
harbour in Ireland, and was to have put into Plymouth to land her,
seeing that she was not in a fit state to continue the voyage, when a
heavy south-westerly gale came on, and the brig was driven up channel
again off the Isle of Wight.  During its continuance, while the brig was
pitching, bows under, with close-reefed topsails only on her, with a
heavy sea running, the sky as black as pitch, the ocean a mass of foam,
and with the wind howling and whistling as if eager to carry the masts
out of her, I was born.  My poor mother had a heavy time of it, and it
was a mercy she did not die.  But oftentimes delicate, fragile-looking
women go through far more than apparently strong and robust persons.
She had a fine spirit and patient temper, and what is more, she put a
firm trust in One who is all-powerful to save those who have faith in
him, both for this life and for eternity.

The brig was hove-to, and though more than once she narrowly escaped
being run down by ships coming up Channel, she finally reached Plymouth,
and my mother and I were landed in safety.  Thus I may say that I have
been at sea from my earliest days.  Old Mrs Wetherholm was delighted to
receive my poor mother and me, and took the very fondest care of us, as
did Aunt Bretta, while my father proceeded on his voyage.

Soon after this I was christened under a name which may sound somewhat
fine to southern ears, Willand Wetherholm; but, as will be seen, I did
not very long retain it.

My mother had another trial soon after this.  My grandfather, John
Trevelyn, who had for some time been ailing, died and left her without
any relations that I ever heard of on his or her mother's side of the
house.  Thus she became more than ever dependent on my father and his
mother and sister.  She had no cause to regret this, however, for
kinder, gentler-hearted people never existed.

Two years more passed away, and I throve and grew strong and fat, and
what between grandmother, and mother, and aunt, ran a great chance of
being spoilt.  My father had been so frightened about my mother before,
that he would never take her to sea again; but he often said that he
would endeavour, when he had laid by a little more money, to give it up
himself and to come and live with her on shore.  It is a dream of
happiness in which many a poor sailor indulges, but how few are able to
realise!  He was expected round at Plymouth, on his way to the
Mediterranean, but day after day passed and he did not arrive.  My
mother began to grow very anxious, so did my grandmother and aunt.  A
terrific gale had been blowing for some days, when the Eddystone was
nearly washed away, and fearful damage was done to shipping in various
parts.

At length the news reached them that the brig had put into Salcombe
range.  It is a wild-looking yet land-locked harbour on the Devonshire
coast.  Black rocks rise sheer up out of the water on either side of the
entrance, and give it a particularly melancholy and unattractive
appearance.  One of the owners had come round in the brig, but he had
landed and taken a post-chaise back towards London.  In the morning the
brig sailed, and by noon the gale was blowing with its fiercest
violence.  In vain my poor mother watched and waited for his return;
from that time to the present neither my father nor any of his crew were
again heard of.  The brig with all hands must have foundered, or, as
likely as not, been run down at no great distance from Plymouth itself.
My mother, who had borne so bravely and uncomplainingly her own personal
sufferings, sunk slowly but surely under this dispensation of
Providence.  She never found fault with the decrees of the Almighty, but
the colour fled from her cheeks, her figure grew thinner and thinner.
Scarce a smile lighted up her countenance, even when she fondly played
with me.  Her complaint was incurable, it was that of a broken heart,
and I was left an orphan.

Most of my father's property had gone to purchase a share in the brig,
which had been most fatally uninsured, and thus an income remained
barely sufficient for the support of my grandmother and aunt.  They,
poor things, took in work, and laboured hard, night and day, that they
might supply me with the food and clothing they considered I required,
and, when I grew older, to afford me such an education as they deemed
suitable to the son of one holding the position my father had in life
Aunt Bretta taught me to read pretty well, and to write a little, and I
was then sent to a day-school to pick up some knowledge of arithmetic
and geography.  Small enough was the amount I gained of either, and
whether it was owing to my teacher's bad system or to my own stupidity,
I don't know, but I do know that I very quickly lost all I gained, and
by the time I was twelve years old I was a strong, stout lad, with a
large appetite and a very ill-stored head.

Though I had not picked up much information at school, I had some
companions, and they were generally the wildest and least manageable of
all the boys of my age and standing.  The truth was, I am forced to
confess, my grandmother and aunt had spoilt me.  They could not find it
in their hearts to deny me anything, and the consequence was that I
generally got my own way whether it was a good or bad one.  I should
have been altogether ruined had they not set me a good example, and
instilled into my mind the principles of religion.  Often the lessons
they taught me were forgotten, and years passed away, when some
circumstance recalled them to my mind, and they brought forth a portion,
if not all, of the fruits they desired.  Still I grew up a wayward,
headstrong boy.  I heard some friends say that my heart was in its right
place, and that I should never come to much harm, and that satisfied me;
so I did pretty well what I liked without any qualms of conscience or
fears for the consequences.

I am not going to describe any of my youthful pranks, because I suspect
that no good will come from my so doing.  If I did not reap all the evil
consequences I deserved, others might fancy that they may do the same
with like impunity and find themselves terribly mistaken.  One of my
chief associates was a boy of my own age, called Charles Iffley.  His
mother, like mine, was a Devonshire woman, and his father was mate of a
merchantman belonging to the port of Hull, but trading sometimes to
Plymouth, and frequently to ports up the Straits of Gibraltar.  Charley
and I had many tastes in common.  He was a bold dashing fellow, with
plenty of pluck, and what those who disliked him called impudence.  One
thing no one could deny, that he was just the fellow to stand by a
friend at a pinch, and that, blow high or blow low, he was always the
same, merry-hearted, open-handed, and kind.  These qualities, however,
valuable as they are, if not backed by right principle and true
religion, too often in time of temptation have been known miserably to
fail.  On a half-holiday, or whenever we could get away from school,
Charley and I used to steal down to the harbour, and we generally
managed to borrow a boat for a sail, or we induced one of our many
acquaintances among the watermen to take us along with him to help him
pull, so that we soon learned to handle an oar as well as any lads of
our age, as also pretty fairly to sail a boat.  When we returned home
late in an evening, and I went back to supper, my poor old grandmother
would complain bitterly of the anxiety I had caused her; and when I saw
her grief, I used to promise to amend, but I am sorry to say that when
temptation came in my way I forgot my promise and repeated my fault.

At length the schooner to which Charley's father belonged came into
Plymouth harbour.  I went on board with my friend, and he showed me all
over her; I thought her a very fine vessel, and how much I should like
to go to sea in her.  The next day he appeared at our house in great
glee, and told my grandmother and Aunt Bretta that he had come to wish
them good-bye, that his father had bound him apprentice to the owners of
the schooner, and that he was to go to sea in her that very voyage.  I
was sorry to part with him, and I could not help envying him for being
able to start at once to see the world.  When he was gone, I could talk
of nothing else but of what Charley was going to see, and of what he was
going to do; and I never ceased trying to persuade my grandmother and
aunt to let me go and be a sailor also.  Poor things, I little thought
of the grief I was causing them.

"Willand, my dear laddie, ye ken that your father, and your grandfather,
and two uncles were all sailors, and were lost at sea,--indeed, I may
well say that such has been the hard lot of all the males of our line,--
then why should ye wish without reason or necessity to go and do the
same, and break your old grandmother's heart, who loves ye far better
than her own life's blood," said the kind old lady, taking me in her
arms and pressing me to her bosom.  "Be content to stay at home, laddie,
and make her happy."

"Oh, that ye will, Willand dear," chimed in Aunt Bretta; "we'll get a
wee shoppie for ye, and may be ye'll become a great merchant, or we'll
just rent a croft up the country here, and ye shall keep cows, and
sheep, and fowls, and ye shall plough, and sow, and reap, and be happy
as the day is long.  Won't that be the best life for Willand, grannie?
It's what he is just fitted for, and there isn't another like it."

I shook my head.  All these pictures of rural felicity or of mercantile
grandeur had no charms for me.  I had set my heart on being a rover, and
seeing all parts of the world, and I believe that had I been offered a
lucrative post under Government with nothing to do, without a moment's
hesitation I should have rejected it, lest it might have prevented me
from carrying my project into execution.  Still for some time I did not
like to say anything more on the subject, and the kind creatures began
to hope that I had given up my wishes to their remonstrances.  Had they
from the first taught me the important lessons of self-denial and
obedience, they might have found that I was willing to do so; but I had
no idea of sacrificing my own wishes to those of others, and I still
held firmly to my resolution of leaving home on the first opportunity.

I was one day walking down High Street, Plymouth, when I saw advancing
towards me a fine sailor-like looking lad, with a well-bronzed jovial
countenance.

"Why, Will, old boy, you don't seem to know me," he exclaimed,
stretching out his hand, which seemed as hard as iron.

"Why, I scarcely did, Charley, till I heard your voice," I answered,
shaking him warmly by the hand.  "You've grown from a boy almost into a
man.  There's nothing like the life of a sailor for hardening a fellow,
and making him fit for anything.  I see that plainly."

"Then come to sea with me at once," he replied; "I can get you a berth
aboard our schooner, and we'll have a merry life of it altogether, that
we will."

I liked his confident and self-satisfied way of talking; but I said I
was afraid I could not take advantage of his offer, though I would try
and get leave from my grandmother.

"Leave from your grandmother!" he exclaimed with a taunting laugh; "take
French leave from the old lady.  You are far better able to judge what
you like than she is, and she can't expect to tie you to her
apron-strings all your life, can she?"

"No, but she is very kind and good to me, and I'm young yet to leave her
and Aunt Bretta.  Perhaps, when I am older, she will not object to my
going away," I replied.

"Pooh, pooh! feeds you with bread and milk, and lollipops; and as to
being too young--why, you are not much more than a year younger than I
am, and fully as stout, and I should like to know who would venture to
say that I am not fit to go to sea.  I would soon show him which was the
best man of the two."

These remarks, for I will not call them reasons, had a great effect on
me.  I thought Charley the finest fellow I had ever known, and I
promised to be guided by him entirely.  I did not consider how
ungrateful and foolish I was.  How could he really care about me, or
know what was for my best interests?  He only thought of pleasing
himself by getting a companion whom he knew from experience he could
generally induce to do what he liked.  I forgot all the love and
affection, all the tender care I had received from my grandmother and
aunt since my birth, and that I ought on every account to have consulted
their feelings and opinions on the most important step I had hitherto
taken in life.  Instead of this, I made up my mind if they should say
no, as Charley expressed it, to cut my stick and run.  Many have done as
I did, and bitterly repented their folly and ingratitude every day
afterwards to the end of their lives.  It stands to reason that those
who have brought us up and watched over us in helpless infancy or in
sickness, instructed us and fitted us to enter on the active duties of
life, must feel far greater interest in our future welfare than can any
other person.  We, as boys, are deeply interested in a shrub or a tree
we have planted, in a dog we have brought up from a puppy; and we may be
certain that our parents or guardians are far more interested in our
welfare, and therefore I repeat, do not go and follow my example, and
run counter to their advice and wishes.

I spent the afternoon with Charley Iffley on board the _Kite_ schooner,
of which his father was mate.  She was a fine craft, with a handsomely
fitted up cabin.  She had been a privateer in the last war, and still
carried six brass guns on deck, which were bright and polished, and took
my fancy amazingly.  She also had a long mahogany tiller bound with
brass, and with a handsomely carved head of a kite which I much admired.
These things, trifles as they were, made me still more desire to belong
to so dandy-looking a craft.  The captain was on shore, but Mr Iffley,
the mate, did the honours of the vessel, and talked largely of all her
good qualities, and finally told me that for the sake of his son, who
was my best friend, if I had a mind to go to sea, he would make interest
to get me apprenticed to her owners.  I did not exactly understand what
that signified; but I thanked him very much, and said that I left the
matter in his and his son's hands.

"All right, Will, we'll make a sailor of you before long!" exclaimed
Charley, clapping me on the back.

Mr Iffley was not a person, from his appearance, very well calculated
to win the confidence of a young lad.  He was a stout, short man, with
huge, red, carroty whiskers, and a pock-marked face, small ferretty
eyes, a round knob for a nose, and thick lips, which he smacked loudly
both when speaking and after eating and drinking.  However, Charley
seemed to hold him in a good deal of respect and awe, an honour my
friend did not pay to many people.  This I found was owing much to the
liberal allowance of rope-end which the mate dealt out to his son
whenever he neglected his duty, or did anything else to displease him;
but of course Master Charley did not confide this fact to me, but
allowed me to discover it for myself.  In the evening I went back to my
grandmother's.  I wanted Charley to accompany me, but he said that he
thought he had better keep out of the way, or out of sight.  This I have
since found the Tempter--that great enemy of man--always does when he
can.  He does his best to hide the hook with which he angles for souls,
as well as to conceal himself; and we may justly be suspicious of people
who dare not come forward to explain their objects and intentions
regarding us.  Even in a worldly point of view, the caution I give is
very necessary.  It was not, however, till long, long after that I found
all this out.  I had not been seated at the tea-table many minutes
before I opened the subject which lay nearest my heart.  My kind
grandmother and Aunt Bretta used all the arguments they could think of
to induce me to stay at home, and so powerful and reasonable did they
seem, that had I not been ashamed of facing Charley and confessing that
I was defeated, I should, at all events for the time, have yielded to
their wishes.  They pictured to me all the horrors of being shipwrecked
and being cast on a barren island, or tossed about at sea on a raft, or
having to live among savages, or being half starved or parched with
thirst,--indeed, they had little difficulty in finding subjects on which
to enlarge.  They also reminded me that, as I had no friends and no
interest, if I went to sea they could do nothing for me, and that though
Mr Iffley might be a very kind man, he could not be expected to care so
much for me as he would for his own son, and perhaps I might have to
remain before the mast all my life.  All this I knew was very true, but
I could not bear the idea of being laughed at by Charley and his father,
and in my eagerness I swore vehemently that go to sea I would, in spite
of everything they could say; and I declared that I didn't mind though I
might be cast away a dozen times, or go wandering about the ocean and
never come back,--indeed, I scarcely know what wicked and foolish things
I said on the occasion.

My poor grandmother and aunt were dreadfully shocked at the way I had
expressed myself.  They had too much respect for an oath themselves,
even though it was as rash as mine, to endeavour to make me break it,
and with tears streaming down her face my grandmother told me, that if
such was my resolution, she had no longer the wish to oppose it.  There
was something very sad in her countenance, and the words trembled on her
lips as she spoke, I remember.  It was not so much, however, because of
my wish to go to sea, as of my rank ingratitude and want of tenderness.

"Oh, Willand! ye dinna ken what harm ye have done, laddie," said Aunt
Bretta, as I parted from her to go to roost in my little attic room,
which she had fitted up so neatly for my use.

At first I was inclined to exult at having made the first step towards
the accomplishment of my wishes, and I was thinking how proud I should
be when I met Charley the next morning, to be able to tell him that I
had triumphed over all difficulties and was ready to accept his offer;
but then the recollection of what Aunt Bretta had said, and a
consciousness of the nature of my own conduct came over me, and I began
to be sorry for what I had done.  In the morning, however, before
breakfast, Charley called for me, and when I told him that I had got
leave to go, he said he would come in and comfort the poor women.  This
he did in a rough kind of way.  He told them that we were going to make
only a short summer voyage--out to the Mediterranean and back; that if I
liked it I might then be apprenticed, and if not, that I might come on
shore; that I should have seen a little of the world, and that no great
harm would be done.

The matter once settled, no people could have exerted themselves more
than did my two kind relatives to get me ready for sea.  They knew
exactly what was wanted, and in three or four days my entire kit was
ready and stowed away in a small sea-chest, which had belonged to some
member of my family who had escaped drowning.  It received no little
commendation when it was hoisted up the side of the _Kite_.

"That's what I like," said Mr Iffley; "traps enough, and no more.  It
speaks well for your womankind, and shows that you come of a sea-going
race."

I told him that I was born at sea, and that my father was drowned at
sea.

"That's better than being hung on shore," he answered with a loud laugh;
and I afterwards found that such had been the fate of his father, who
was a noted pirate, and that he himself had enjoyed the doubtful benefit
of his instruction for some time.

While we lay at Plymouth we received orders to call in at Falmouth, to
carry a cargo of pilchards, which was ready for us, to Naples, in the
south of Italy.  The people in that country, being Roman Catholics and
having to fast, eat a great quantity of salt-fish.  They have plenty of
fish in their own waters, but they are so lazy that they will not be at
the trouble of catching them in sufficient quantities to supply their
wants.  Falmouth was a great fishing place in those days, and full of
vessels going to all parts of the world.  There had been some heavy rain
in the night, and as they lay with their sails loosed and the flags of
all the civilised nations in the world flying from their peaks, I
thought that I had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Mr Tooke, our captain, was a very good sailor.  He was a tall, fine
man, with black hair and huge whiskers, like his mate's, and a voice,
when he liked, as loud as thunder--a quality on which he not a little
prided himself.  I thought when I went on board that I was to live in
the cabin and be treated like a young gentleman.  Charley had not said
anything about the matter, but he had showed me the state rooms, as they
were called, and I had sat down in the cabin and taken a glass of wine
with him there, so I took it for granted that I was to be a sort of
midshipman on board.

The first night, when the middle watch was set, and I began to grow very
sleepy, I asked Charley in which of the cabins I should find my bed.  He
laughed, and told me to follow him.  I did so, and he slipped down a
little hatchway forward, just stopping a minute, with his head and
shoulders above the deck, to tell me that I must not be too squeamish or
particular, and that I should soon get accustomed to the place to which
he was going to take me.  He then disappeared, and I went after him.  I
found myself in a dark hole, lighted by a very dim lantern, with shelves
which are called standing bed-places, one above the other, all round it,
and sea-chests lashed below.  In the fore part were two berths, rather
darker and closer than the rest.

"That's where you and I have to sleep, old boy," said Charley.  "I
didn't like it at first; but now I would just as soon sleep there as
anywhere else.  But, I say, don't make any complaints; no one will pity
you if you do, and you will only be laughed at for your pains."

I found that he was right with regard to my getting accustomed to the
place, though sheets were unknown, and cleanliness or decency were but
little attended to.  Not only were the habits of many of the crew dirty,
but their manners and ideas were bad, and their language most foul and
obscene; cursing and swearing went on all day long, just as a thing of
course.  It might seem strange to some who don't know much about human
nature, that I, a lad decently brought up by good, religious people, and
fairly educated, should have willingly submitted to live along with such
people.  At first I was startled,--I won't say shocked,--but then I
thought it fine and manly, and soon got not only accustomed to hear such
language, but to use it with perfect indifference myself.

We are all of us more apt to learn what is bad than what is good I have
mentioned Captain Tooke and our first mate.  We had a second mate, old
Tom Cole by name.  He was close upon sixty years of age.  He had been at
sea all his life, and had been master of more than one vessel, but lost
them through drunkenness, till he got such a name that no owners would
entrust him with the command of another.  He was a good seaman and a
fair navigator, and when he was sober there wasn't a better man in the
ship.  He had been to sea as first mate, but lost the berth through his
besetting sin.  I believe Captain Tooke engaged him from having known
him when he himself was a young man, and from believing that he could
keep him sober.  He succeeded pretty well, but not always; and more than
once, in consequence of old Cole's neglect of his duty, we very nearly
lost our lives, as many lives have been lost before and since.  The two
mates messed with the captain, but the apprentices lived entirely with
the men forward.  Besides Charles Iffley, there was another, Jacob La
Motte, a Guernsey lad.  He was a far more quiet and steady fellow than
either of us.  In my wiser moments I learned to like him better than
Iffley; and perhaps because I was better educated than most of the men,
and, except when led away by bad example, more inclined to be rational,
he associated more with me than with them.  The best educated and the
most steady among the hands forward was a young man, Edward Seton.  He
was very well-mannered and neat in his person, and I never heard him
giving way to profane swearing or any other gross conduct, and he tried,
but in vain to check those who indulged in it.

I had not been long at sea, though time enough to have any pride I might
have possessed knocked out of me, when I was accosted by old Ned
Toggles, one of the roughest of the rough hands on board, and generally
considered the wit of the crew, with, "And what's your name, youngster?
Did any one ever think it worth while to give one to such a shrimp as
you?"

"Yes," said I, firing up a little; "I should have thought you knew it by
this time."

"Know it!  How should I know whether your name is Jack, or Tom, or Bill?
Any one on 'em is too good for you, I should think, to look at you,"
remarked old Toggles, with a grin and a wink at his companions.

"Thank you for nothing," said I, feeling very indignant at the
gratuitous insult, as I considered it, thus offered to me.  "If you want
to know my name, I'll tell it you.  It is Willand Wetherholm."  The last
words I uttered with no little emphasis, while I looked at my shipmates
as much as to say, "There!  I should like to know who has got as good a
name as that!"  I saw a grin on the countenance of old Toggles as I
spoke.

"Will Weatherhelm!" he ejaculated.  "A capital name, lad.  Hurrah for
Will Weatherhelm.  Remember, Will Weatherhelm is to be your name to the
end of your days.  Come, no nonsense, we'll mark it into you, my boy.
Come, give us your arm."  What he meant by this I could not tell; but
after a little resistance, I found that I must give in.  "Come, it's our
watch below, and we have plenty of time to spare; we'll set about it at
once," said he, taking my arm and baring it up to the elbow.  One of the
other men then held me while Toggles procured a sharp needle, stuck in a
handle, and began puncturing the thick part of my arm between the elbow
and wrist.  The operation cost me some little pain; but there was no use
crying out, so I bore it patiently.  When he had done he brought some
powdered charcoal or gunpowder, and rubbed it thoroughly over the arm.
"There, my lad," said he, "don't go and wash it off, unless you want a
good rope's-ending, and you'll see what will come of it."

I waited patiently as I was bid, though my arm smarted not a little, and
in three days Toggles told me I might wash as much as I liked.  I did
wash, and there I found on my arm, indelibly marked, my new name, "Will
Weatherhelm!" and at sea, wherever I have been, it has ever since stuck
to me.

Note.  Weather helm is a sea term.  A vessel, when not in perfect trim
and too light aft, has a tendency, when on a wind, to luff of her own
accord, or to fly up into the wind.  To counteract this tendency it is
necessary to keep the helm a-weather, and she is then said to carry a
_weather helm_.  It is not surprising, therefore, that Toggles should at
once catch at my name, and turn it into one which is so familiar to a
seaman's ear.  Indeed, to this day, I have often to stop and consider
which is my proper name, and certainly could not avoid answering to that
of Will Weatherhelm.

If one of my old shipmates were to be asked if he knew Willand
Wetherholm, he would certainly say, "No; never heard of such a man."

"But don't you remember Will Weatherhelm?"

"I should think so, my boy," would be his reply, and I hope he would say
something in my favour.

We had a quick run to the southward till we were somewhere off the
latitude of Lisbon, when a gale sprung up from the eastward which drove
us off the land, and not only carried every stitch of canvas clear of
the bolt-ropes, but very nearly took the masts out of the vessel.  It
was my watch below when the gale came on, and I was awoke by the
terrific blows which the schooner received on her bows; and what with
the darkness and the confusion caused by the noise of the sea and the
rattling of the blocks aloft, the stamp of feet overhead, and the
creaking of the bulk-heads, I fully believed the ship was going down,
and that my last moment had come.  I thought of my poor old
grandmother's warnings, and I would have given anything if I could have
recalled my oath and found myself once more safe by her side.  "All
hands shorten sail!" soon sounded in my ears.  I slipped into my clothes
in a moment, and hastened on deck.  The sky overhead was as black as
pitch, and looked as if it was coming down to crush the vessel between
it and the ocean, and every now and then vivid flashes of lightning
darted forth from it, playing round the rigging and showing the huge
black seas as they came rolling up like walls capped with white foaming
tops, with a loud rushing roar, as if they were about to overwhelm us.
A rope's-end applied to my back made me start, and I heard the voice of
old Cole, saying, "Hillo, youngster, what are you dreaming about?  Up
aloft there, and help furl the topsails."  Aloft I went, though I
thought every moment that I should be blown away or shaken from the
shrouds; and when I got on the yards, I had to hold with teeth and
eyelids, as the saying is, and very little use I suspect I was of.
Still the sails, or rather what remained of them, were furled, and I had
been aloft in a gale.  I very soon learned to think nothing of it.

We were many days regaining our lost ground, and it was three weeks
after leaving Falmouth before we sighted the Rock of Gibraltar.  We did
not stop there, but the wind being then fair, ran on through the Gut
towards our destination.  Inside the straits, we had light and baffling
winds, and found ourselves drifted over to the African shore, not far
from the Riff Coast.  We kept a sharp look-out and had our guns ready
shotted, for the gentry thereabouts have a trick of coming off in their
fast-pulling boats if they see an unarmed merchantman becalmed; and, as
a spider does a fly caught in his web, carrying her off and destroying
her.  They are very expeditious in their proceedings.  They either cut
the throats of the crew or sell them into slavery, carry all the cargo,
and rigging, and stores on shore, and burn the hull, that no trace of
their prize may remain.  Charley told me this; but we agreed, as we were
well armed, if they came off to us, they might find that they had caught
a Tartar.

The captain and mates had their glasses constantly turned towards the
shore.  The sun was already sinking towards the west, when I heard the
captain exclaim, "Here they come!  Now, my lads, let's see what you are
made of."  We all, on this, gave a loud cheer, and I could see six or
eight dark specks just stealing out clear of the land.  Charley and I
were in high glee at the near prospect of a skirmish, for we both of us
had a great fancy for smelling gunpowder.

Old Cole heard us boasting of what we would do.  "Just wait, my boys,
till you see some hundreds of those ugly blackamoors, with their long
pikes, poking away at you, and climbing up the side of the schooner, and
you will have reason to change your tone, I suspect," said he, as he
turned on his heel away from us.

"Here comes a breeze off the land!" exclaimed Mr Iffley; "we may wish
the blackguards good-bye before they come up with us."  The breeze came
and sent us a few fathoms through the water, and then died away and left
the sails flapping as before idly against the masts, while at the same
time the row-boats came nearer and nearer.  The captain walked the deck
with his glass under his arm, every now and then giving a glance at the
approaching boats, and then holding up his hand to ascertain if the
breeze was coming back again.  Once more the sails filled, and his
countenance brightened.  Stronger and stronger came the breeze.  The
schooner felt its force, and now began to rush gaily through the water.
"Hurrah! she walks along briskly!" he exclaimed, looking over the side.
"We may wish the gentlemen in the boats good evening."

I was surprised to find the captain so glad to get away from the
pirates.  I thought it was somewhat cowardly of him, and that he would
rather have stopped and fought them.  Charley laughed when I told him
this.  "He is as brave a man as ever stepped," he answered.  "He has his
own business to attend to, and that is to carry his cargo to the port we
are bound for.  What good would he have got had he fought the pirates,
even though he had knocked them to pieces?"

The breeze continuing, and darkness coming on, we very soon lost sight
of the boats.  It was nearly a fortnight after this that we made the
coast of Sicily, and saw Mount Etna towering up with a flaming top into
the clouds.  We stood on towards the Bay of Naples.  A bright mist hung
over the land as we approached it soon after sunrise, like a veil of
gauze, but still thick enough entirely to conceal all objects from our
view.  Suddenly, as if obeying the command of an enchanter's wand, it
lifted slowly before us and revealed a scene more beautiful that any I
ever expected to behold.  On the right was the bright green island of
Capri, with Sorrento and its ruined columns beyond it.  Before us was
the gay white city of Naples, with its castles and moles below rising
upwards out of the blue sparkling waters on the side of a hill, amid
orange groves and vineyards, and crowned at its summit by a frowning
fortress, while on the left was the wildly picturesque island of Procida
and the promontory of Baiae, every spot of which was full of classic
associations, which, however, the little knowledge I had picked up was
scarcely sufficient to enable me to appreciate, and in which even now, I
must own, I could not take the interest they deserve.  Still the beauty
of the scene fixed itself on my memory never to be eradicated.



CHAPTER TWO.

GREEK PIRATES--A SUSPICIONS STRANGER--MY FIRST FIGHT--DESPERATE
ENCOUNTER--OUR FATE SEALED--THE SINKING VESSEL--THE MATE'S DEATH--WE
SECURE A BOAT--DOWN SHE GOES--OUR PERILOUS VOYAGE--LOSS OF ANOTHER
SHIPMATE--DEATH OF EDWARD SETON--MY PROMISE--A STRONG BREEZE--A GALE
SPRINGS UP--A HEAVY SEA.

Having discharged our cargo at Naples, the captain, finding that we
could get no freight home from thence at the time, determined to go to
Smyrna, where he knew that he could obtain one of dried fruit, figs,
currants, and raisins.  We spent ten days there, and on our homeward
voyage, keeping somewhat to the northward of our course, got among the
islands of the Greek Archipelago.  At that time a great many of the
petty Greek chiefs, driven by the Turks from their hereditary domains,
had established themselves on any rocky island they could find, with as
many followers as they could collect, and nothing loth, used to carry on
the respectable avocation of pirates.  Some possessed only lateen-rigged
craft, or open boats, but others owned fine large vessels, ships and
brigs, strongly armed and manned.  Though they attacked any Turkish
vessels wherever they could find them, they were in no respect
particular, if compelled by necessity to look out for other prey, and
the merchantmen of any civilised nation which came in their way had but
a small chance of escape.

I observed some little anxiety on the countenances of the officers, and
a more careful watch than usual was kept on board at night, while in the
day-time the captain or first mate was constantly aloft, and more than
once the course was changed to avoid a strange sail.  The winds were
light and baffling, so that we were detained among the islands for some
time.  At last we got a fair breeze from the northward, though it was
light, and we were congratulating ourselves that we should have a quick
run to the westward.  We had been standing on for a couple of hours or
so, when I saw the master and mates looking out anxiously ahead.  I
asked Charley Iffley what it was they saw.

"An ugly-looking big brig, which has a cut they don't like about her,"
was the answer.  "When we were out here the last time, we sighted just
such another chap.  A hundred or more cut-throat-looking fellows were
dancing on her decks, and we had every expectation that they would lay
us aboard, when a man-of-war hove in sight, and she prudently cut her
stick.  The man-of-war made chase, but a Thames barge might as well have
tried to catch a wherry.  The pirate was out of sight in no time."

"But if this stranger should prove to be a gentleman of the same
profession, what shall we do, Charley?"  I asked.

"Run away if we can, and fight him if he comes up with us," he replied.

I thought he did not seem quite so anxious about fighting as he had been
when we were off the Riff coast.  Indeed, from what I could learn,
should the vessel in sight prove to be a Greek pirate, we might find a
struggle with her no joking matter.  That she was so, I found the
captain and officers entertained not the slightest doubt.  The schooner
was brought on a wind and stood away to the southward, but the brig
immediately afterwards changed her course for the same direction.  The
captain on this called the crew aft, and told us that he intended to try
and make his escape, but that if he did not succeed, we must fight for
our lives, for if overcome we should all have our throats cut.  Charley
and I, and La Motte, gave a shrill cheer, in which we were joined by two
or three of the other men, but the old hands merely growled out, "Never
fear; no man wants to get his throat cut, so we'll fight."  I was
surprised at their want of enthusiasm; but when men have been much
knocked about in the world, and have all their finer feelings blunted,
that, among other sentiments, is completely battered out of them.

When Captain Tooke saw the brig change her course, he hauled the
schooner close on a wind, but the brig instantly hauled her wind also,
and we very soon saw that she was rapidly overhauling us.  The truth is,
that English merchantmen of those days were mere tubs compared to those
of foreign nations; and even the _Kite_, though a fast vessel of her
class, was very inferior to the craft of the present day of the same
rig.  Thus we saw that there was little chance of escaping a fight
should the stranger prove to be a pirate, unless a man-of-war or large
merchantman, able to help us, might heave in sight.

While we were trying the speed of our heels, every possible preparation
was made for fighting; boarding nettings were triced up; our two guns
were carefully loaded; the small arms were got up and distributed among
the people, who fastened on the cutlasses round their waists and stuck
the pistols in their belts.  Charley and I had got hold of a pistol
a-piece, and purposed committing great execution with them, but I was
condemned to help La Motte to hand up powder and shot from below,
greatly to Master Charley's amusement, who looked down and asked how I
liked being a powder-monkey.  As I every now and then shoved my head
through the hatchway, I saw that the brig was coming up rapidly after
us.  I had been down some little time, when just as I came up and was
looking about me, my ears were saluted with a loud hissing whirl, and I
saw our main gaff shot away at the jaws and come tumbling down on deck.
This made the schooner fall off the wind somewhat.

"Fire, my lads! fire!" shouted Captain Tooke, "and see if we can't repay
them in kind."

Our lee-gun had been run over to the weather side, and both guns were
fired at once, discharged by some of our best hands, old men-of-war's
men.  Still, as no cry of satisfaction followed, I suspected that they
had not succeeded in damaging the enemy.  A whole broadside from the
Greek now came rattling down upon us.  I could not resist giving a look
up on deck.  Several of our poor fellows had been knocked over, and lay
writhing in agony.  Some were binding up their wounds, and one lay half
hanging over the hatchway shot through the body.  Such another iron
shower would speedily clear our decks of every living being.  As to
striking our flag, or crying out for mercy, that was out of the
question; we were contending with people who had received none from
their oppressors, and had not learned to show it to others.  Those not
required to work the two guns, began blazing away with the muskets, but
in that arm also the pirate was infinitely our superior.  Her shot from
another broadside came rushing fiercely over us.  This time no one on
deck was hit, but the effects aloft were disastrous.  Both our
topsail-yards were wounded, and several braces and much of our standing
rigging shot through.  Our people fought as well as any men-of-war's
men, and our captain showed that though he was a rough diamond he was a
brave fellow.  A third broadside reduced our rigging to a perfect wreck,
and masts, and spars, and blocks came tumbling down from aloft in
melancholy confusion.  All this time the wind had been increasing, and
it now blew a pretty smart breeze.  We might have still a chance if we
could knock away some of the enemy's spars, and keep him from boarding
us.  Our hull had received no material injury, and if a gale came on we
might weather it out till perhaps some ship might come to our rescue.
Having got up all the powder and shot required, I came on deck.  I asked
Charley what he thought of the state of things.  He was looking very
pale; his shirt-sleeve was tucked up at the elbow, and there was blood
on his arm, which a musket-ball had just grazed.

"Don't ask me, Will," said he.  "What can we do against that big fellow?
We shall all be food for fishes before long, I suppose."

I looked at the brig, which was twice our size and uninjured in rigging,
and was closely approaching us, while I could make out that her decks
were crowded with men in a variety of Eastern costumes, mostly such as I
had seen on board the Greek vessels at Smyrna.  By this time it was
blowing fresh, and a good deal of sea had got up.  The schooner, having
no canvas aloft to steady her, was pitching and tumbling about in an
awful way.  Our fate was sealed.  I remembered all the dreadful stories
I had heard, and the atrocities committed by these Greek pirates; but I
had little time for thought.  On came the pirate; showers of
musket-balls swept our decks, and round shot came crashing through our
side.  In another instant her grappling-irons were thrown aboard, and as
a huge spider catches a miserable fly, so did our big antagonist hold us
struggling and writhing in his grasp.

We had fought as long as we could; but what could we do against such
overwhelming numbers?  We did not strike to the villains at all events,
for we had not a man by this time left on his legs to haul down the
flag, even had we wished to do so.  The pirates, with fierce shouts,
waiting till the sides of the vessels rolled together, leaped, sword in
hand, on our decks.  The captain and mates continued fighting to the
last, as if resolved to sell their lives dearly.  Some were driven
overboard, several were knocked down below, and so saved their lives for
the moment, while the greater number were unable to lift hand or foot in
their defence.  I was among them.  A shot grazed me, I could scarcely
tell where, my whole body was in such agony; but overcome with it I lay
without power of moving.  This was fortunate, for had any of us shown
signs of life, the pirates would have despatched as at once.  As it was,
they merely shoved us out of the way, while they set to work to get out
the cargo.  Though I could not move, my eye was able to follow them, and
from the expeditious way in which they proceeded about their work, they
were evidently well practised in it.  Every moment I expected to find my
existence finished by having the point of a sword or a pike run into me.
I suppose after this that I went off into a swoon, for when I again
looked up, the pirates had left the vessel, and I could see the topsails
of their brig, just as they were sheering off.  My first impulse was
that of joy to think that I was saved.  I tried to rise, and fancied
that I might have strength sufficient to do so; but then I thought it
better to be perfectly still, lest the pirates should see me moving
about, and take it into their heads to fire and perhaps finish me.  My
feelings were very dreadful.  I knew not how many of my companions might
have escaped.  Perhaps I might be soon the only survivor left alone on
the shattered wreck, for the groans of my companions still alive showed
that they were desperately wounded; or perhaps my doom was already
fixed, and my hours were drawing to a close.  I could scarcely bear to
hear those sounds of pain, yet I dared not move to render assistance.  I
waited for some time, and then I slowly turned round my head, and
ventured to look if the vessel could be seen from where I lay.  She was
not visible, so I crawled to a port through which I could see her about
a mile off, standing away to the eastward.  I now felt that, provided no
one showed their heads above the bulwarks, we should be safe.  A cask of
water stood on the deck for daily use.  I crawled to it, and swallowed
some of the precious fluid, which much revived me.  I never tasted a
more delicious draught in my life.  I took the tin cup, and crawled to
the nearest person who appeared to be alive.  It was the captain.  He
was groaning heavily, "Here's a cup of water, sir," I said; "it will do
you good.  The pirates are off, and I do not think they are coming back
again."

At first he did not seem to understand me; then he took the mug of
water, and drained it to the bottom.

"What, gone, are they?" he at length exclaimed.  "Ah, lad, is that you?
Well, what has happened?  Oh!  I know.  Help me up, and we'll see about
it."

I did my best, hurt as I was, to raise him up.  In a short time he very
much recovered.  Both he and I, it appeared, had been knocked over by
the wind of a round shot, and had been rather stunned than seriously
hurt.

The captain, as he lay on the deck, bound up my wound for me with a
kindness I did not expect from him.  As soon as he was somewhat
recovered, he told me to come with him and examine into the state of
affairs.  Many of the crew lay stiff and stark on deck--their last fight
over.  We carried the water to the few who remained alive, and very
grateful they were for it.  Among the killed was the first mate; but
poor Charley I did not see.  I observed another man moving forward.  I
crawled up to him.  He was Edward Seton.  I gave him the mug of water.
He thanked me gratefully.

"I'm afraid that I am in a bad way, Weatherhelm," said he; "but see what
you can do for me, and I'll try and get about and help the captain: tell
him."

Under his directions I bound up his wounds as well as I could, and in a
little time he began to crawl about, though it seemed to give him great
pain to do so.  On looking into the hold we found that several men were
there.  The captain hailed them, and gave the welcome news that the
pirate was off, and that they might venture on deck.  As soon as they
heard his voice they sprang up, but looks of horror were on their
countenance.

"It's all over with us, sir," said they.  "The villains have bored holes
in the ship's bottom, and the water is rushing in by bucketsful."

I accompanied the captain below.  Unhappily he found that what they said
was too true, and at the first appearance of things it looked as if the
schooner could not swim another half hour.  On further examination,
however, it appeared that, whatever might have been the intention of the
villains, they had not bored the holes very cleverly.  Some of them were
through the timbers, and others were even above the water line, and they
had providentially been prevented from finishing their work by breaking
their auger, the iron of which was sticking in one of the timbers.  When
this had occurred they made the attempt to knock a hole through the
ship's side; but they had found the ribs and planking too strong for
their axes, and had been compelled to desist before accomplishing their
purpose.  They had, however, effectually destroyed the pumps,--a few
strokes of their axes had done that,--so that we had little hope of
freeing the vessel of water, as it would take long to repair them.  Why
they did not set her on fire I do not know.  Perhaps because they were
afraid that the blaze might attract the attention of any ship of war
which might be in the neighbourhood, and bring her down upon them.  At
all events, they refrained from no tender feeling of love or mercy for
us.

"Don't give in, my lads," cried the captain, after he had examined the
state of affairs.  "All who can manage to move, come with me; we may
still have a chance of saving our lives.  See if any of you can find an
axe and wood to make plugs to drive into these holes."

The pirates had of course intended to heave overboard everything of the
sort; but fortunately, without loss of time, a hatchet was found under
the windlass forward, where one of the men recollected he had left it,
after chopping wood for firing, and another discovered an axe in the
carpenter's store-room, under a number of things which had been routed
out of the chests by the pirates in their search for money.  With these
two tools we set to work, and as soon as a plug was cut, we drove it
into such of the holes as let in the greatest quantity of water.  There
was no difficulty in finding them, for the water spouted up in jets in
all directions in the hold.

It must be understood that what was already inside had not yet got to a
level with the sea.  Indeed, if it had, we should very soon have gone
down.  We succeeded in stopping the greater number, but unfortunately
two or three had been bored low down, and some of the cargo having
washed over them, we could not contrive to reach the places to plug
them.  I guessed, when the fact was discovered, that all hopes of
ultimately saving the vessel must be greatly diminished, though what we
had done would enable her to float for some time longer.

I have before been prevented mentioning anything respecting those of my
shipmates who had escaped with their lives.  The first person I saw
below was old Cole.  He was unhurt, and seemed to take matters as coolly
and quietly as if they were of ordinary occurrence.  He had, as I
afterwards discovered, directly he saw the pirate brig running us
aboard, gone below and stowed himself away.  I ventured to ask him, on a
subsequent occasion, how it was that he had not remained on deck and
fought on like the rest.  "Why, I will tell you, Will," said he; "I have
found out, by a pretty long experience, that if I don't take care of
Number one, no one else will; so, when I saw that nothing more could be
done to beat off the pirates, I thought to myself, there's no use
getting killed for nothing, so I'll just keep in hiding till I see how
things go."  La Motte, the Guernsey lad, was unhurt, but we picked up
poor Charley Iffley with an ugly knock on his head, which had stunned
him.  He didn't know that his father was killed.  We let him perfectly
recover before we told him.  I wished to have kept back the knowledge of
this fact from him, but of course as soon as he came on deck he could
not fail to discover it, so La Motte and I broke it to him gently.  I
was somewhat shocked to find how little effect it had on him.

"What, father dead, is he?  Well, what am I to do then, I wonder?" was
his unfeeling observation.

"And this is the person whom I thought so fine a fellow, and by whom I
was guided rather than by those who loved me best in the world," I
thought to myself.  Still, I could not help feeling compassion for my
friend, and I believe he really did feel his father's loss more than his
words would have led me to suppose.

Having done what we could below, the captain called us all on deck to
examine into the state of the boats, and to see if any of them were fit
to carry us to the nearest shore.  A glance showed us their condition.
The spars which had fallen from aloft, and the shot of the enemy, had
done them no little damage, and the villainous pirates, before leaving
us, had stove in their sides and hove the oars overboard, to prevent any
of us who might survive from making use of them.  I felt my heart sink
within me when I saw this, but none of us gave way to despair.  It is
not the habit of British seamen, while a spark of life remains in them,
to do so.  The long-boat was in the best condition, but with our yards
gone we could not hoist her out, even had we had all the crew fit for
the work, so that we were obliged to content ourselves with trying to
patch up the jolly-boat, which we might launch over the side.

The carpenter was among the killed, so that had the pirates left us all
his tools, we could not have repaired the boat properly, and the captain
therefore ordered us to set to work to cover her over with tarred
canvas, and to strengthen her with a framework inside.  Thus prepared,
there were some hopes that she might be able to float us, provided the
weather did not grow worse.

While the captain and old Cole, with the more experienced hands, were
patching up the boat, he sent La Motte and me to try and find a
spy-glass in the cabin.  After some search we discovered one and took it
to him.  He watched the pirate brig through it attentively.  "Hurra, my
lads, she'll not come back!" he exclaimed.  "She's standing under all
sail to the eastward, and soon will be hull down."  This announcement
gave us all additional spirits to proceed with our work.  La Motte and I
were next sent to get up some mattresses from below on which to put the
wounded men; we also bound up their hurts as well as we could, and kept
handing them round water, for they seemed to suffer more from thirst
than anything else.

My own wound hurt me a good deal, but while I was actively employed for
the good of others, I scarcely thought about it.  I found that much
progress was being made with the boat.  There was plenty of canvas, and
a cask of Stockholm tar was found.  After paying both the boat and a
piece of canvas sufficiently large to cover her over with the tar, the
canvas was passed under her keel and fastened inside the gunwale on
either side.  It went, of course, from stem to stern, and the thickly
tarred folds nailed over the bows served somewhat to strengthen them.
In our researches La Motte and I had found a hammer and a pair of
pincers, which were very useful, as they enabled us to draw out the
nails from the other boat with which to fasten on the canvas.  As the
boat would require much strengthening inside, a framework of some small
spars we had on board was made to go right round her gunwale, from which
other pieces were nailed down to the seats, and two athwart, inside the
gunwale, to prevent her upper works from being pressed in.  Besides
this, some planks were torn from the long-boat, and with them a weather
streak was made to go round the jolly-boat, and this made her better
able to contend with a heavy sea.

When we had performed our first task, the captain sent us with the
second mate to get up such provisions and stores as we might require,
with some small beakers to fill with water.  He then came himself to
judge how fast the water was gaining on us, and seeing that the schooner
would swim some time longer, he had another thick coat of tar put on,
and an additional coat of canvas nailed over the boat.  It was lucky
this was done, for as the tar had not time to sink into the canvas, I do
not think the first would for any length of time have kept the water
out.  We had still much to do, for we had neither oars, spars, nor sails
fitted for the boat.  In half an hour more, however, we had fashioned
two pairs of oars, in a very rough way certainly, but such as would
serve in smooth water well enough.  We had stepped two masts and fitted
two lugs and a jib.  Fortunately the rudder had not been injured, so
that we were saved the trouble of making one.  I felt my heart somewhat
lighter when the work was finished, and we were able to launch the boat
over the side where the bulwarks had been knocked away when the enemy
ran us aboard.  She swam well, and we at once began putting what we
required into her.  The pirates had carried off all the compasses they
could find, but the captain had a small spare one in a locker which had
not been broken open, and this he now got out, with a chart and quadrant
they had also overlooked.  Thus we might contrast our condition very
favourably with that of many poor fellows, who have been compelled to
leave their sinking ships in the mid Atlantic or Pacific hundreds of
miles from any known coast, without chart or compass, and with a scant
supply of water and provisions.

We had no difficulty in stowing water and provisions for the remnant of
the crew to last us till we could reach Zante or Cephalonia, or some
part of the Grecian coast; for that, I heard the captain say, would be
the best direction to steer.  We first put the wounded who could not
help themselves into the boat, and the rest were following, when the
captain stopped us.

"Stay, my lads," said he.  "The schooner will float for some time
longer, and we must not leave the bodies of our poor shipmates aboard
her to be eaten by the fish with as little concern as if they were
animals."

"All right, sir," answered the men, evidently pleased.  "We wouldn't
wish to do so either, sir, but we thought you were in a hurry to be
off."

We set to work at once, for all hands knew what he meant, and we sewed
each of the bodies up in canvas, with shot at their feet.  "Can anybody
say any prayers?" asked the captain.  No one answered.  Of all the crew,
no one had a prayer-book, nor was a Bible to be found.  I had one, I
knew, which had been put into my chest by my grandmother, but I was
ashamed to say it was there, and I had not once looked at it since I
came to sea.  Edward Seton, however, who had been put into the boat,
heard the question.  "I have a prayer-book, sir," he said.  "If I may be
hoisted on deck, I will read the funeral service."  The captain accepted
his offer.  He was taken out of the boat and propped up on a mattress.
He read the Church of England burial service with a faltering voice (he
himself looking like death itself) over the bodies of those whom it
appeared too probable that he would shortly follow.

It might, perhaps, have been more a superstitious than a religious
feeling which induced my rough, uneducated shipmates to attend to the
service, but it seemed to afford them satisfaction, and it may, perhaps,
at all events, have done some of us good.  Then the poor fellows were
launched overboard, with a sigh for their loss, for they were brave
fellows, and died fighting like British seamen.  Charley stood by while
his father's body was committed to the deep, and he cried very heartily,
as if he really felt his loss.  Then, slowly, one after the other of us
went into the boat.  The captain was the last to quit the schooner.  For
some time we held on.  The captain evidently could not bring himself to
give the order to cast off--indeed, it was possible that the vessel
might still float for some time longer; still it is difficult to say
when a water-logged vessel may go down.  Had we hung on during the dark,
we might have been taken by surprise, and not have been able to get
clear in time.  I heard the captain propose to Mr Cole to set her on
fire, in the hopes that the blaze might bring some vessel down to our
relief; but I suspect that he had not the heart to do it.  At last, as
night was coming on, he gave the order, "Cast off."  I suspect he never
gave a more unwilling one.  Not another word did he say, but he gave a
last lingering look at the craft he had so long commanded, and then
turned away his head.

Our lugs were hoisted, for the wind had come round to the southward, and
away we stood for Cephalonia.  It was a beautiful night, the sea was
smooth and the wind was light,--indeed, we would rather have had more of
it,--the stars came brightly out of the clear sky, and there was every
appearance of fine weather.  There seemed no reason to doubt that all
would go well, if the wind did not again get up; and, as we had just had
a strong blow, there was a prospect of its continuing calm till we got
to our destination.  The night passed away pretty well--all hands slept
by turns, and, for my own part, I could have slept right through it, had
it not been that the groans of one of my companions, who lay close to
me, sounded in my ears and awoke me.  I sat up and recognised the voice
of poor Edward Seton.  La Motte and I, who were closest to him, did all
we could to assuage his pain.  We bathed his wounds and supplied him
with drink, but his tortures increased till towards the morning, when on
a sudden he said that he felt more easy.  At first, I fancied that all
was going right with him; but soon the little strength he had began to
fail, and as the sun rose, and fell on his pale cheeks, I saw that the
mark of death was already there.  I spoke to him and asked him what I
could do for him.  He was perfectly conscious of his approaching death.

"You have done all you could for me, Will," he answered, in a low faint
voice, not audible to the rest.  "It is all over with me in this world.
I am glad that you are near me, for you think more as I do, and you know
better what is right than the rest of our shipmates; but, Weatherhelm,
let a dying man warn you, as you know better than others what is right,
so are your responsibilities greater, and thus more will be demanded of
you by the Great Judge before whom I am about to stand, and you will
have to stand ere long.  Oh! do not forget what I have said.  And now I
would ask a favour for myself.  I have a mother living near Hull, and
one I love still better, a sweet young girl I was to have married.  Find
out my mother--she will send for her--see them both--tell them how I
died--how I was doing my duty faithfully as a seaman, and how I thought
of them to the last."

"Yes, yes," I answered, "I'll do my best to fulfil your wishes."  I took
his hand and pressed it.  A fearful change came over his countenance,
and he was a corpse.  I hoped to be able to keep my promise, for often
the only satisfaction a dying seaman has, is to know that his shipmates
will faithfully carry his last messages to those he loves best on earth.
The body was dragged forward into the bow of the boat, for rough as
were the survivors, all esteemed Edward Seton, and no one liked to
propose without necessity to throw his remains overboard before they
were cold.

At noon the captain took an observation, and found that since leaving
the schooner the previous evening we had run about forty miles, which
showed that we had been going little more than two and a half knots an
hour--for the wind had been very light all the time.  Still we were far
better off than if it had been blowing a gale.  As, however, the day
drew on, clouds began to collect in the horizon, forming heavy banks
which grew darker and darker every instant.  I saw the captain and mate
looking at them anxiously.

"We are going to have another blow before long," observed Mr Cole.  "If
we could have got under the lee of some land before it came on, it would
have been better for us."

"No doubt about that, Mr Cole; but as we have no land near us, if the
gale catches us we must weather it out as men best can," answered the
captain.

The mate was unfortunately right, and somewhere about the end of the
afternoon watch a strong breeze sprung up from the southward, which soon
caused a good deal of sea.  The boat was hauled close to the wind on the
larboard tack, but she scarcely looked up to her course, besides making
much lee-way.  She proved, however, more seaworthy than might have been
expected, but we shipped a good deal of water at times, to the great
inconvenience of the wounded men, and we had to keep constantly baling
with our hats, or whatever we could lay hold of.  As it became necessary
to lighten the boat as much as possible, the captain ordered us to sew
the body of poor Seton up in his blanket, and to heave it overboard.  No
one present was able to read the burial service over him, and he who had
so lately performed that office for his shipmates was committed to the
deep without a prayer being said over him.  I thought it at the time
very shocking; but I have since learned to believe that prayers at a
funeral are uttered more for the sake of the living than the dead, and
that to those who have departed it matters nothing how or where their
body is laid to rest.  Of course we had no shot to fasten to poor
Seton's body.  For a short time it floated, and as I watched it with
straining eyes, surrounded by masses of white foam blown from the
summits of the rising waves, I thought of the awful warning he had
lately uttered to me, and felt that I, too, might be summoned whither he
was gone.

The wind and sea were now rapidly rising.  In a short time it had
increased very much, and as the waves came rolling up after us, they
threatened every instant to engulf the boat.  She had begun to leak also
very considerably, and do all we could, we were unable to keep her free
of water.

"We must lighten the boat, my lads," said the captain.  "Don't be
down-hearted, though; we shall soon make the land, and then we shall
find plenty of provisions to supply the place of what we must now cast
away."

Some of the men grumbled at this, and said that they had no fancy to be
put on short allowance, and that they would keep the provisions at all
risks.  I never saw a more sudden change take place in any man than came
over the countenance of the captain at this answer.  Putting the tiller
into the mate's hand, he sprung up from his seat.  "What, you thought I
was changed into a lamb, did you?" he exclaimed in a voice of thunder.
"Wretched idiots! just for the sake of indulging for a few hours in
gluttony, you would risk your own lives and the lives of all in the
boat.  The first man who dares to disobey me, shall follow poor Seton
out there--only he will have no shroud to cover him.  You, Storr,
overboard with that keg; Johnston, do you help him."  The men addressed
obeyed without uttering another word, and the captain went back to the
stern-sheets, and issued his orders as calmly as if nothing had
occurred.

"The captain was like himself, as I have been accustomed to see him," I
thought to myself.  "Sorrow for the loss of his vessel and his people
changed him for a time, and now he is himself again."

I was not quite right, though.  Rough as he looked, he was born with a
tender heart; but habit, example, and independent command, and long
unconstrained temper, made him appear the fierce savage man I often
thought him.  A large quantity of our water and provisions, and stores
of all sorts, were thrown overboard, as was everything that was not
absolutely necessary, to lighten the boat as much as possible.  Yet, do
all we could, there appeared to be a great probability that we should
never manage to reach the shore.  The water had also somehow or other
worked its way between the canvas at the joints in the fore and after
parts of the boat, in addition to the seas which came in over the
gunwale.  To assist in keeping it out we stuffed everything soft we
could find, bits of blanket, our shirt-sleeves and handkerchiefs, into
the holes in the planks, though of course but little good was thus
effected.  In vain we looked round on every side, in the hope that our
eyes might rest on some object to give us cause for hope.  Darker and
more threatening grew the sky, louder roared the wind, and higher and
higher rose the seas.  Scarcely half an hour more remained before
darkness would come down on us.  With no slight difficulty the boat had
been kept steadily before the seas with the advantage of daylight; at
night, with the sea still higher, we could scarcely expect that she
could be kept clear.  It was indeed with little hope of ever again
seeing it rise that we watched the sun sinking towards the western
horizon.



CHAPTER THREE.

VOYAGE IN THE BOAT CONTINUED--GALE BLOWING STRONG--A SAIL IN SIGHT--WILL
SHE PASS US?--A FRENCH BRIG--LIFE ON BOARD--REACH SMYRNA--SAILORS'
FRIENDSHIP--OUR PRANKS ON SHORE--THE PLAGUE--CHARLEY'S FEARS--SENT ON
BOARD THE FATE--ONCE MORE AFLOAT--HOMEWARD-BOUND.

A look of blank, sullen despair was stealing over the countenances of
most of the crew.  Charley Iffley sat with his hands before him and his
head bent down, without saying a word, and seemingly totally unconscious
of what was taking place.  When I spoke to him he did not answer or look
up.  I suppose that he was thinking of his father, and grieving for his
loss, so, after two or three trials, I did not again attempt to rouse
him up.  La Motte and I occasionally exchanged remarks; but when the
wind again got up and we expected every moment that the boat would
founder, we felt too much afraid and too wretched to talk.  The captain
was the only person who kept up his spirits.  Once more he rose from his
seat, and stepped on to the after-thwart, holding on by the mainmast.  I
watched his eye as he cast it round the horizon.  I saw it suddenly
light up.  "A sail! my lads, a sail!" he exclaimed, pointing to the
westward.  Not another word was spoken for some time.  We kept on our
course, and we were soon able to ascertain that the stranger was
standing almost directly for us.  The captain at once resolved to try
and get on board her, whatever she might prove, rather than run the risk
of passing the night in the boat.  He on this put the boat about, for
had we continued on the course we were then steering she might have gone
ahead of us.  Our great anxiety was now to make ourselves seen before
the night closed down upon us.  We had a lantern, but its pale light
would not have been observed at any distance.  Just before the sun sank
into the ocean we were near enough the stranger to make out that she was
a large brig, apparently a ship of war, and by the cut of her canvas,
and her general appearance, she was pronounced to be French.  Though all
my younger days we were at loggerheads with them, there happened just
then, for a wonder, to be a peace between our two nations, so there was
no fear but what we should be treated as friends.

The sun sank ahead of us with a fiery and angry glow, while the clouds
swept by rapidly overhead, and every now and then a flash of lightning
and a loud roar of thunder made us anxious to find ourselves on board a
more seaworthy craft than the frail boat in which we floated.  We had no
firearms with us, for the pirates had carried away or thrown overboard
all they found on board the schooner, so we had no means of making a
night signal.  However, as there was still a little light remaining, we
lashed two oars together, and made fast at one end an ensign, which had
fortunately been thrown into the boat.  The captain then stood up and
waved it about to try and attract the attention of those on board the
brig.  I felt inclined to shout out, under the feeling that far off as
she was my feeble voice would be heard.  On we flew through the water at
a rate which threatened every instant to tear the canvas off the boat's
bottom, while the seas at the same time constantly came on board and
nearly swamped us.  Time passed away; the gloom of evening thickened
around us.  Our hearts sank within our bosoms.  It seemed too probable
that the stranger would pass without observing us.  We were again almost
in despair, when the boom of a gun came rolling over the water towards
us.  To our ears it was the sweetest music, a sign that we were seen,
and a promise, we believed, that we should not be deserted.  On stood
the man-of-war directly for us; but it had now grown so dark, that
though we could see her from her greater bulk, we could scarcely hope
that those on board her could see us.  We had two serious dangers to
avoid.  If we stood directly in her course, so rapidly was she going
through the water, she might run over us before we could possibly make
ourselves heard; while, if we kept too much out of her way, she might
pass us, and we might miss her altogether.  Fortunately we succeeded in
getting our lantern lighted, and the captain sent me to hold it up
forward as soon as we drew near her.  On she came; another minute would
decide our fate; when we saw her courses hauled up, her topgallant sails
furled, and coming up on the wind, she hove-to on the larboard tack,
scarcely a cable's length from us.  We stood on a little, and then
putting the boat about, we fetched up under her lee quarter and ran
alongside.  A rope was hove to us, and lights were shown to enable us to
get on board.

Our captain spoke a little French, though it was of a very free-and-easy
sort, I suspect.  The brig proved to be, as he had thought, of that
nation; and such a jabbering and noise as saluted our ears I never have
in all my life heard on board of a man-of-war.  However, they wished to
deal kindly by us.  They at once sent us down ropes with which the
wounded men were hauled up, though there was great risk of getting them
hurt in the operation.  When this was done, the rest of us set to work
to hand up all the more valuable things we had in the boat,--not that
the pirates had left us much, by the by.  While we were thus engaged, a
squall struck the brig, and almost laid her on her beam-ends.  We had
just time to clamber up on board, when a sea swamped the boat, which was
directly afterwards cut adrift; the helm being then put up, the brig
righted, and off she flew before the wind.  The squall was quickly over
(we had reason to be grateful that we had not been compelled to
encounter it in the boat), and the brig was once more brought up on her
course.  We found that she was the _Euryale_, of eighteen guns, and then
bound for Smyrna.  Though we would rather have been put on shore at
Cephalonia, we were certain of their finding a vessel to carry us to
Malta, if not home direct to England.

The French captain and officers treated us very kindly, and the surgeon
paid the greatest attention to the wounded; but though I have been on
board many a man-of-war since, I must say that I never have seen one in
a worse state of discipline.  One-half of the officers did not know
their duty, and the other half did not do it; and the men did just what
they liked.  They smoked and sang and danced the best part of the day,
while the officers played the fiddle or the guitar, or gambled with
cards and dice, and very often danced and smoked with the men, which at
all events was not the way to gain their respect.  The captain was a
very gentlemanly man, but had not been to sea since the war, and could
not then have known much about a ship, so he did nothing to keep things
right, and the great wonder to us was how he had managed not to cast her
away long before we got on board her.

We had no reason to complain.  Both the officers and men treated us very
kindly, and were thoroughly good-natured.  Since those days, too, a very
great change has taken place in the French navy.  Their officers are, as
a rule, very gentlemanly men, and the crews are as well disciplined as
in our own service--indeed, should we unhappily again come to blows, we
shall find them the most formidable enemies we have ever encountered.

We arrived at Smyrna without any adventure worthy of note.  Just as we
entered the port, the _Ellen_ brig, belonging to Messrs. Dickson,
Waddilove, and Burk, the owners of the _Kite_, came in also, and we at
once went on board her.  Captain Mathews was her master; he was one of
the oldest and most trusted captains of the firm, and acted as a sort of
agent for them at foreign ports.  Whatever he ordered was to be done.
He could send their vessels wherever he thought best, and had full
control, especially over the apprentices.  Thus Charley, La Motte, and I
at once found ourselves under his command.  He was a good-natured, kind
sort of a man, therefore I had no reason to complain.  We found lying
there another brig belonging to the same owners.  She was called the
_Fate_.  It was the intention of Captain Tooke to return home in the
_Ellen_, and to take us three apprentices with him, while of course the
rest of the men would be left to shift for themselves; but there is a
true saying that man proposes, but God disposes.

We soon recovered from our fatigues and hardships, and got into fine
health and spirits.  The crews of the two brigs were allowed a
considerable amount of liberty, and did not fail to take advantage of
it.  Altogether we had a good deal of fun on shore.  Charley and I were
generally together.  We had not much money between us, but we contrived
to muster enough to hire a horse now and then; and as we could not
afford to have one a-piece, we used to choose a long-backed old nag,
which carried us both, and off we set in high glee into the country.
The grave old Turks looked on with astonishment, and called us mad
Giaours, or some such name; and the little boys used to throw stones at
us, or spit as we passed, but we did not care for that; we only laughed
at them, and rode on.  Once we rode into a village, and seeing an
odd-looking building, we agreed that we should like to have a look
inside.  We accordingly tied up our long-backed horse to a tree, and as
there was no one near of whom to ask leave, in we walked.  It was a
building with a high dome, and lamps burning, which hung down from the
ceiling, and curtains, but there was not much to see, after all.
Presently some old gentlemen in odd dresses appeared at the further end,
and as soon as they saw us standing and looking as if we did not think
much of the place, they made towards us with furious gestures, so we
agreed that the sooner we took our departure the better.  When we turned
to run, they came on still faster, and as we bolted out of the mosque--
for so we found the building was called--they almost caught us.  We ran
to our horse; while Charley leaped on his back, I cast off the tow-rope,
and then he caught my hand and helped me up behind him, and away we
galloped as hard as we could go through the village.  The old gentlemen
could not run fast enough to overtake us, but they sang out at the top
of their voices to some men in the street, and they called out to
others, and very soon we had the whole population after us with sticks
in their hands, heaving stones at our heads, and shouting and shrieking
at us.  Luckily the hubbub frightened the old horse, and he went faster
than he had done for many a day, and amid the barking of dogs, the
shouts of boys, the crying of children, and the shrieking of women, we
made our escape from the inhospitable community.  I had a good thick
stick with which I belaboured the poor beast to urge him onward.  After
some time the Turks, seeing that they could not overtake us, gave up the
chase, and we agreed that we had better not enter into their village
till they had forgotten all about the circumstance.  When we got on
board, we were told that we were very fortunate to have escaped with our
lives, as many Englishmen had been killed by the Turks for a similar act
of folly.

Two days after this, one of the _Ellen's_ men came on board, complaining
of being very ill.  In a short time another said he felt very queer, and
both of them lay down on their chests and could eat no food or keep
their heads up.  Before long, Captain Mathews came below, and finding
that they both had something seriously the matter with them, sent on
shore for an English doctor who resided at the place.  After some time
the doctor came, and told the men to turn up their shirt-sleeves and to
show him their arms.

"I thought so," said he, turning to the captain; "it is my unpleasant
duty to tell you that you have got the plague on board.  We have it bad
enough on shore."

I thought the captain would have fallen when he heard the news.  "The
plague!" he gasped out.  "What is to be done, doctor?"

"Send the men on shore; purify your ship, and get to sea as soon as you
can," was the answer.

But the plague is a conqueror not easily put down.  Before night two
more men were seized, and the two first were corpses.  The captain of
the _Fate_ heard of what had happened, and sent his boats alongside to
inquire how we were doing, but with strict orders that no one should
come on board.  No boat came the next day; the plague had paid her a
visit, and three of the crew were corpses.  The moans and shrieks of the
poor fellows were very dreadful when the fever got to its height.  One
moment they might have been seen walking the deck in high health and
spirits, and the next they were down with the malady and utterly unable
to move.  Sometimes three or four hours finished their sufferings, and
the instant the breath was out of their bodies we were obliged to heave
them overboard.  One after the other, the greater part of the crews of
the two brigs sickened and died.  We three apprentices had escaped, and
so had our captain and Mr Cole.  The mate said he was not afraid of the
plague or any other complaint, as he had got something which would
always keep it away.  Charley Iffley and I frequently asked him what it
was.  It was a stuff in a bottle which he used to take with his grog,
and we suspected that he took it as an excuse for an extra glass of
spirits.  One cause why he escaped catching the plague was, that he
never was afraid of it,--either he trusted to his specific, or felt sure
that he should not catch it; also, he never went on shore among the
dirty parts of the town the men had frequented, and also lived separate
from them on board.

At length my companion Charley got ill.  We lads had been removed to
some temporary berths, put up in the hold, where we could have more air
than forward.  One day after I had gone on shore with the captain to
bring off the doctor, not finding Charley on deck, I went down to look
for him.  I found him in the berth tumbling about in bed and his eyes
staring wildly.

"Oh, Will!  I am going to die, and there's one thing weighs so heavy on
my mind that I cannot die easy till I tell it to you!" he exclaimed, in
a tone of anguish.  "Just for my own pleasure I persuaded you to come to
sea, and ever since you have had nothing but danger and trouble.  You'll
forgive me, won't you?  That's what I want to know."

I told him, of course, that I forgave him heartily; indeed, that I had
never accused him of being the cause of the sufferings which I had
endured, in common with him and others.  Then I told him that he must
not fancy that he was going to die just because he felt a little ill,
and that as the doctor was on board I would go and fetch him at once.

The doctor came immediately, and, after examining him, applied some very
strong remedies.  I followed him on deck to inquire whether Charley
really had the plague.  "No doubt about it," was his reply; "but if he
drops into a sound sleep, I think he may throw it off without further
evil consequences."

Anxiously I watched at the side of poor Charley's bed.  He talked a
little--then was silent--and I found that he slept.  I did not dare to
leave his side lest any one should come into the berth and awake him.
Hour after hour I waited, till at last I sank back on the chest on which
I was sitting and fell fast asleep.  When I awoke the sun was shining
down through the main hatchway into the berth.  I heard Charley's voice.
It was low but quiet.

"I am quite well now, Will," he said.  "If the doctor, when he comes,
will let me get up, I think I could go about my duty without
difficulty."

I was very glad to hear him speak in that way, but I told him that his
strength had not returned, and that he must remain quiet for a day or
two.  From that moment, however, he got rapidly better, and in a week
was almost as well as ever.  He was the last person seized with the
complaint on board the two brigs.  On board the _Fate_, the master, and
mates, and half the crew died; and had not we and the other survivors of
the _Kite's_ crew arrived at Smyrna, it would have been difficult to
find hands to take her to sea.  Captain Mathews, however, directed
Captain Tooke to take command of her, and sent Mr Cole as mate, with
Charley Iffley and me, while most of our men shipped on board her.  I
thought that we were to go home, but I found that my summer cruise was
to be a very much longer affair than I had expected.  Had I gone home
then, I think that I should have followed my kind grandmother's wishes
and given up the sea.  Instead, however, of returning to England, the
brig was employed running from place to place, wherever she could secure
a freight.  In that way I visited nearly every part of the coast of the
Mediterranean.  Sometimes we went up the Adriatic; then across to
Alexandria; then to some port in Greece, or to one in Italy; then up to
Constantinople, and away over to the ports on the northern coast of
Africa.  I saw a number of strange people and strange sights, but have
not now time to describe them.

I wrote home several times to my grandmother and aunt, but, as I was
always moving about, I got no answers.  I thought very likely that my
letters or their replies had been wrongly directed; still I began to
grow very anxious to hear what had become of the only two relatives I
had on earth, and whom alone I had really learned to love.  After I had
been out about a year I asked leave, if I could find the chance to go
home.  The captain on this laughed at me, and reminded me that
apprentices were not their own masters, and that I must make up my mind
to stay where I was till the owners wanted the brig home.

Three years passed away so rapidly that I was astonished to find how
long I had been out in those seas.  During all that time no accident had
happened, and I began to hope that I was not going to suffer any further
misfortunes in consequence of my rash oath.  I expressed my feelings to
Charley Iffley.  He laughed at me, and said that had nothing to do with
the matter, that there was no great harm in what I had said, and that,
consequently, I could not expect to be punished for it.  I thought
differently.  I knew that there was harm, and felt that I might justly
be punished.  At first, after Charley had recovered from the plague, he
appeared to have become a thoughtful and serious character, but
unhappily he very soon fell off again, and was now as reckless as ever.
At length the order came for us to return home.  Merrily we tramped
round at the capstan bars to a jolly song, as we got in our anchor for
the last time, and made sail from the port of Leghorn.  We passed the
Straits of Gibraltar, and with a smooth sea and southerly wind we had a
quick run to the Land's End, while our crew sang--

  "To England we with favouring gale
  Our gallant ship up Channel steer;
  While running under easy sail,
  The snow-white western cliffs appear."



CHAPTER FOUR.

COME IN SIGHT OF OLD ENGLAND--MANY A SLIP BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP--
THE THOUGHTS OF HOME--EFFECTS OF DRUNKENNESS--BREAKERS AHEAD--SHIP ON
SHORE--SAVED IN A BOAT--THE SCILLY ISLES--ADVANTAGE OF LOSING MY SHOES--
BOAT LOST--I AM AGAIN PRESERVED--A NIGHT IN A CAVE--GO IN SEARCH OF
ASSISTANCE--HOSPITABLE RECEPTION IN THE ISLAND--THE OLD MATE'S DEATH--
SAIL FOR PLYMOUTH--SPRING A LEAK--LOSS OF THE ELLEN--THE WAVE-TOSSED
RAFT--DEATH OF OUR COMPANIONS.

We made the Land's End one morning in the middle of March, when a strong
north-easterly gale sprung up in our teeth, and threatened to drive us
back again into the middle of the Atlantic.  After the bright sunny
skies and blue waters of the South, how cold and bleak and uninviting
looked our native land!  But yet most of us had friends and relations
whom we hoped to see, and whom we believed would welcome us with warm
hearts and kindly greetings; and we pictured to ourselves the green
fields, and the shady woods, and the neat cottages, and picturesque
lanes to be found inside those rocky barriers, and we longed to be on
shore.  The captain was as eager as any of us to reach home; so, the
brig being close-hauled, with two reefs in her topsails, we endeavoured
to beat up so as to get close under the land in Mount's Bay.  It was a
long business, though--tack and tack--no rest and wet jackets for all of
us; but what cared we for that?  We had an important object to gain.
Old England, our native land, was to windward.  There we hoped to find
rest from our toils for a season; there each man hoped to find what in
his imagination he had pictured would bring him pleasure, or happiness,
or satisfaction of some sort.  I've often thought how strange it is,
that though men will toil, and labour, and undergo all sorts of
hardships, to obtain some worldly advantage, some fancied fleeting good,
and to avoid some slight ill or inconvenience, how little trouble do
they take to obtain perfect happiness--eternal rest--and to avoid the
most terrific, the most lamentable of evils, the being cast out for ever
from the presence of the great, the glorious Creator of the universe, to
dwell with the spirits of the lost.

I gave a short account of Captain Tooke and Mr Cole, as they appeared
to me when I first joined the unfortunate _Kite_.  They had in no way
altered.  The captain was the same bold, daring seaman as ever, without
any religious principle to guide him; and though his heart was not
altogether hard or unkind, his manners were rough and overbearing, and
he was often harsh and unjust to those below him.  I have met numbers of
merchant masters just like him from the same cause.  They are sent early
to sea, without any proper training, and without any right principles to
guide them.  If they are sharp, clever lads, they soon are made mates,
and before they have learned to command themselves they are placed in
command over others.  In most instances, their fathers, or relatives, or
friends are masters or owners of vessels, and are in a hurry to get them
employed.  The vessels are insured, so that if, through their
carelessness or ignorance, the vessels are cast away, that matters
little, they consider.  If the crew are lost, that is the fate of
sailors.  If the master escapes, they can easily get him a new vessel;
and as he has learned a lesson of caution, he will be all the better
master for some time to come till the vessel is worn out, and then there
will be no great harm if she is lost also.  I speak of things as they
were in my day.  I am glad to say that a very great improvement has
taken place of late years.

Our old mate held the master in great awe and respect.  This was
fortunate, as it generally kept him sober; still the old man never lost
an opportunity of getting hold of his favourite liquor, and he would
seldom leave the bottle while a drop remained.  However, he generally
contrived to get tipsy in harbour just before he was going to bed, so
that he could turn in and sleep off the effects; and when now and then
he was overtaken at sea, the men knew how to manage him; and, as he was
good-natured and indulgent, they generally contrived to conceal his
state and save him from the anger of the captain.  Something of this
sort had occurred the very day we made the land.  While the captain was
on deck, he had gone into the cabin, where, in an open locker, he had
discovered two bottle of rum.  It was too tempting a prize not to be
seized, and he carried off both the bottles to his own cabin, carefully
closing the locker.  The captain did not discover his loss.  The old man
went on deck, but soon making an excuse to go below, broached one of the
bottles.  He had made some progress through it before he wag recalled on
deck, and the condition on which he was verging did not then appear.
The brig was kept beating away across the seas, the wind shifting about
and every now and then giving us a slant which enabled us to creep up
closer to the land.  We continued gaining inch by inch, showing the
advantage of perseverance, till just about nightfall we got fairly into
Mount's Bay.  We thought ourselves very fortunate in so doing, for just
then a strong breeze which had before been blowing grew into a downright
heavy gale, against which we could not possibly have contended.  It
seemed, however, to be veering round more to the northward, and the
captain, hoping that it would come round sufficiently to the westward of
north to enable us to stand up Channel, instead of running in and
bringing the ship to an anchor, determined to keep her standing off and
on the land during the night, that he might be enabled to take immediate
advantage of any change which might occur.

As he had been on deck for many hours, he went at last below, leaving
the brig in charge of the mate.  Now the old man found the weather cold,
and bethought him of his bottles of rum.  He knew the importance of
keeping sober on such an occasion especially, but he thought that a
little more rum would do him no harm, and would make him comfortable, at
all events.  He did not like to send for a bottle, so he went below
himself to fetch it.  It was his business to keep a constant watch on
the compass, so as to observe any change of wind.  He was not long gone
below, that I remember.  When he came on deck, he brought a glass and a
bottle, but he had brought the full bottle instead of the half-emptied
one.  He asked Charley to bring him a can of hot water.  Of course the
fire had long been out, and there was none at that hour of the night.
He stowed his glass and bottle away in a pigeon-hole under the
companion-hatch, but every time he took a turn on deck he went back to
it and had a taste of the liquor.  He very soon forgot that he had put
no water to it.  This went on for some time till he sat himself down and
forgot another thing--that was, that he was in charge of a vessel on a
dark night, with a heavy gale blowing, and close in on a dangerous
coast.  We had gone about several miles without any difficulty, when, as
we were once more standing in for the shore, a squall heavier than any
we had yet experienced struck the vessel and laid her over almost on her
beam-ends.  At that moment the captain rushed on deck with the look of a
half-frantic man.  He cast one hurried glance forward.  "About ship!
about ship! down with the helm!" he shrieked out in a voice of terrific
loudness.

"All right--no fear, cap'en," cried the old mate, staggering up to him.
"I've taken very good care of the barkie."

At that instant a loud, grating, crushing sound was heard, and the brig
seemed to be about to spring over some obstacle in her way.  Then she
stopped.  Loud cries of horror arose from all hands, and the watch below
rushed on deck.  All knew full well what had occurred.  The brig was on
the rocks, and the sea, in dark masses with snowy crests, came roaring
up around us, threatening us with instant destruction.  What reply the
captain made to the old man I dare not repeat.  Before I thought of
anything else, I remembered my own rash oath.  "Am I doomed to cause the
destruction of every vessel I sail aboard?"  I said to myself, with a
groan of anguish, and a voice within me seemed to reply, "Yes--that is
to be your fate; but leap overboard and end it, and you will disappoint
the malignity of the monarch of the tempest."  Happily the prayers my
good grandmother had taught me had not all been forgotten.  At that
moment I uttered a prayer for mercy and forgiveness, and I knew then for
certainty that the instigation had come from the evil one for the
purpose of destroying me body and soul.  "O God, have mercy on me; do
what is best," I cried.  Just then I was aroused by hearing the loud
voice of the captain ordering the crew to get out the long-boat.  I
hurried to lend a hand at the work.  It seemed, however, almost a
hopeless undertaking, so high ran the sea around us.  Fortunately the
masts still stood.  We got the tackles hooked on to the yards, and,
casting in oars and boat-hook and sails, hoisted away with a will.  The
boat swung clear of the side, and the moment she touched the water, the
old mate, with Charley and I, and the greater number of the men, leaped
into her.  We were expecting the captain and the rest of the crew to
follow, when a heavy sea, with a terrific roar, came rolling up towards
us.  We heard shrieks and cries for help from our shipmates.  Both the
masts went by the board, the boat narrowly escaping being crushed by the
mainmast, and the brig instantly began to break up.  We got out our
oars, and pulled back the distance we had drifted, shouting out to the
captain, and to any who might have remained on board, but no reply
reached us.  Again and again we shouted louder than ever, still there
was no response.  The old mate sat like one stupefied; but the
catastrophe his neglect had caused had had the effect of sobering him.
One of the men who was more intelligent than the rest, and often had
charge of the deck at sea in the place of a second mate, said that he
thought we had struck on the Rundle Stone, which is near the shore,
between Mount's Bay and the Land's End, though we ought to have been a
long way to the eastward of it.

We had hard work to keep our own near the wreck; but still we did not
like to pull away while there was a chance of picking up any of those
who might have remained on board.  We did our best to keep our eyes on
it through the darkness, with the wind and rain and spray dashing in our
faces.  Another huge sea came rolling on.  The crashing and tearing of
the timbers reached our ears, and the water which washed round us was
covered with fragments of the wreck, among which we ran a great risk of
having the boat stove in; but no voice was heard, nor could we see any
one clinging to them.  We had now to abandon all hope of saving any more
of our unfortunate shipmates, and had to think of our own safety.  Just
as we had come to this resolve, another sea rolled towards the wreck,
and when it passed over not a fragment of her remained hanging together.
We were in a sad plight.  None of us had saved more than the clothes we
had on our backs, and some of the watch below had not had time even to
put on all theirs.  In getting into the boat I had lost my shoes, which
I thought a great misfortune, as my feet felt very cold, and I fancied
when I got on shore that I should not be able to walk.  We bent manfully
to our oars, and tried to pull in for the shore; but the gale came down
stronger than ever on us, and we could not help being conscious that at
all events we were making very little way.  Still we persevered.  We
hoped there might be a lull--indeed, we had nothing else to do but to
pull on.  Bitter, however, was the disappointment which awaited us when
the morning broke, and we looked out eagerly for the land.  Instead of
being nearer we were much further off (six or seven miles at least), and
were still rapidly drifting away to sea.  The further we got off the
land, the greater danger there would be of the boat being swamped;
besides, we had saved no provisions, and we had the prospect of a
fearful death staring us in the face from hunger and thirst.  The old
mate had by this time been sufficiently aroused to comprehend clearly
the state of affairs.  As I have said, he was, when sober, a good
seaman, and thoroughly acquainted with the coast.  As day drew on, it
cleared a little, and looking round, he made out the Scilly Islands
directly to leeward of us.  He watched them earnestly for some time, and
throwing off his hat and putting back his grey hairs with his hand, he
sat upright, and exclaimed, "Never fear, my lads, we've got a good port
under our lee!  I know the passage through the channel leading to it.
Trust to me, and I'll carry you safely there."

Though after what had occurred we had no great confidence in him, yet as
none of us knew anything about the islands, we had his judgment and
experience alone to trust to.  So we watched our opportunity, and
bringing the boat's head carefully round, pulled in the direction he
pointed out.  A break in the clouds, through which the gun gleamed forth
glancing over the white foam-topped seas, showed us the land in bold
relief against the black sky.

"Ah! there's Saint Martin's and Saint Mary's Islands," observed the old
man.  "Ah!  I know them well.  Many's the time I've run between them up
Crow Sound.  Let's see--what's the time of day?  There will be plenty of
water over the bar.  We shall soon have a glimpse of the Crow rock, when
we get in with the land; and if only the Big Crow shows his head above
water, we may cross the bar without fear of breakers.  Once through it,
we shall soon be on shore at Grimsby, and there are several people I
know there who will give us all we can want to make us comfortable."

The Crow, to which old Cole alluded, is a somewhat curious rock at the
entrance of the Sound.  It has three heads, called the Great Crow, the
Little Crow, and the Crow Foot.  When the Great Crow is even with the
water's edge there will be twenty-one feet of water on the bar, when the
second point appears there will be sixteen, and when the Crow's Foot is
visible there will be ten feet only.  These are the sort of particulars
which a good coast pilot has to keep in his memory, with the appearance
of the numberless landmarks on the shore, and their distances one from
the other.

As we drew near the entrance of the Sound, through which if we passed we
hoped all our misfortunes would end, the weather came on to be very
thick again, so that we could scarcely see a dozen yards ahead.  Still
the mate seemed so sure of the passage that we steered on without fear.

"Are you certain, sir, that we are heading in for the right channel?"
asked Wilson, the man I before spoke of, looking round over his shoulder
at the mass of foam which he saw leaping up just ahead of us.  "Round
with her! round with her, lads!" he shouted, "this isn't the channel."

"All right, all right," persisted the old mate.  But it was all wrong.
A sea came roiling up, and hove us in among a mass of rocks over which
the breakers dashed with terrific fury.  In vain we endeavoured to pull
round.  Over went the boat, and we were all thrown here and there,
shrieking in vain for aid, among the foaming mass of broken waters.  I
struck out to keep my head above water if I could, and in another
instant found myself hove against a steep rock to which I clung with all
the strength of despair.  I had thought the loss of my shoes a great
misfortune.  I now found it the cause of my preservation.  Had not my
feet been naked, I never could have clung to the slippery rock, or freed
my legs from the tangled seaweed which clung round them.  I struggled
on--now a sea almost tore me off, and then I made a spring, and
scrambled and worked my way up, not daring to look back to watch the
following wave, or to observe what had become of my companions.  At
length I reached the top of the rock.  It seemed an age to me, but I
believe it was not a minute from the time I first grasped hold of the
rock till I was in comparative safety.  Then I looked round for my
companions in misfortune.  Dreadful was the sight which met my eyes.
There they were, still struggling in the waves--now touching some
slippery rock, and hoping to work their way on to where I was, and then
borne back again by the hungry sea.  In vain they struggled.  I could
afford them no help.  One by one, their heavy boots impeding all their
efforts, they sank down, and were hid to view beneath the waters.  Two
or three still remained alive, though at some little distance.  One I
recognised as our old mate, the cause of our disaster.  He had contrived
to kick off his shoes, and was swimming towards the rock.  Poor old man,
he struggled hard for life.  In a moment I forgot all the mischief he
had caused, and considered how I might help to save him.  Undoing my
neck-handkerchief, I fastened it to another I had in my pocket, and
secured the two to the sleeve of my jacket.  I watched him anxiously as
he drew near, crying out to encourage him.  Then I lowered the
handkerchiefs, and as a sea washed him up towards the rock he caught
hold of them, and with great care, lest we should both fall in, I helped
him up the side of the rock.  I had not time to say anything, for I saw
another person struggling in the water.  I was afraid that he would
never reach the rock, for his strength seemed almost exhausted.  I
shouted to him.  He looked up.  It was Charley Iffley.  I own that I was
now doubly anxious for his safety.  Just then an oar washed by him.  He
was just able to grasp it.  It enabled him to recover his strength, and
in a short time another sea drove him close up to the rock.  I hove the
end of my handkerchief to him, he caught it; and the old mate and I
leaning over, hauled him, almost exhausted, out of the reach of the sea.
We looked round.  We were the only survivors out of all the crew.  The
strong men had lost their lives.  The oldest and weakest, and the two
youngest, had alone been saved.  Whether we should ultimately escape
with our lives seemed, however, very doubtful.  There was barely space
enough for us to sit clear out of the wash of the sea; and should the
tide be rising we might be washed off.  We found, however, that the tide
was falling, and this restored our hopes of being saved.  As the tide
ebbed, the water got a good deal smoother, and the weather once more
clearing, we were able to consider our position and what was best to be
done.  We judged that we were, three-quarters of a mile from the island
of Saint Mary's, but we could make out no habitations, and we thought it
very probable night might come on before anybody would see us, while we
felt if we remained on the rock that we could scarcely hope to survive.

We were already benumbed with the cold, and almost perishing with
hunger.  "We must try and reach the island," said Mr Cole; "are you
inclined to try it, lads?"  We of course said we were.  He looked at his
watch, which being an old silver hunting one, was, in spite of the wet,
still going, and found that it was two o'clock.  "In another half hour
we must make the attempt," said he; "so, lads, prepare as best you can.
It won't be an easy job."  The time to wait seemed very long.  We
watched the tide ebbing, and rock after rock appearing.  At last he
said, "We cannot hope for a better opportunity than now.  I'll lead the
way.  Lend me a hand, lads, if I want it."

We promised him that we would, and slipping down the rock on the land
side a much greater distance than we had come up, we found our feet
touching the bottom.  There was no sea to speak of, so on we went pretty
confidently.  The old man advanced very cautiously, but Charley Iffley,
thinking that we might move faster, said he would go ahead.  He did, and
went head under also immediately afterwards.  He came up again directly,
and struck out towards the next rock.  We took to swimming at once, to
save the loss of breath, and all reached the next rock without
difficulty.  After resting a little, we started again.  We had no wish
to remain longer than we could help with a north-easterly gale blowing
on us in the month of March.  The cold, too, was very bitter.  Yet at
the time I fancy I scarcely thought about it.  Thus on we went,
sometimes wading, sometimes swimming, and sometimes scrambling along the
ledge which the receding water had left bare.  Often we had to assist
each other, and I believe none of us alone could have performed the
task.  Once Mr Cole was very nearly giving in, and twice Charley
declared he could not go on, and must stay on the rock where we were
resting till we could send him aid.  We soon showed him that the rock
would be covered long before assistance could reach him, and in another
instant he was as ready as either of us to proceed.  Once I almost gave
in, but my companions roused me up, and again I set forward with renewed
strength.

It was not, however, till six o'clock in the evening that we reached the
shore, and as we found ourselves on dry land we staggered up the beach,
and the old mate fell down on his knees, and in a way I did not expect
of him, thanked the Almighty for the mercy He had shown us.  It was a
wild, desolate place, with only high rocks about on every side, without
trees, and no roads that we could discover to guide us to any
habitation.  We went on a little way, and then the mate and Charley said
they could go no further.  I also felt my strength almost exhausted, but
I knew that it would not do for all of us to give in, so I roused myself
to exertion.  That I might try and learn our position before night
completely overtook us, I climbed up to the top of the highest rock I
could find and looked around me.  Not a habitation or a sign of one
could I discover, or a road or path of any sort,--while wild heath, or
sand, or rock stretched away on every side, looking cold and bleak as
well could be, in that dark, dreary March evening.  With this uncheering
information I found my way back to my companions.  We could not attempt
to move on in the dark, so we looked about for some place where we might
find shelter during the night.

"Oh, Will, I wish we had some food, though," said Charley; "I am dying
of hunger."

So was I, and before moving further I returned to the beach, and with my
knife cut off a number of shell-fish from the rocks, and filled my
pockets with them.  With this provision I returned to my companions, and
sat down by their side.  We ate a few, which much refreshed us, and
Charley said he could go on, but the old mate declared his inability to
move further.

Accordingly, Charley and I hunted about in every direction, and at last
came on a shallow cave on the lee side of a rock.  The sand inside was
dry, and after being exposed so long to the cold wind we thought the air
warm, so we helped the old man into it, and placed him in the warmest
and driest spot we could find out.  He did not seem to care about
eating, but complained bitterly of thirst.  Charley could no longer
move, so I went out to try and find some water.  As I was groping about,
almost giving up the search in despair, I felt my foot splash into a
puddle.  I knelt down.  It was clear, pure water, and I drank as much as
I required.  How grateful I felt!  I thought that I had never tasted a
more delicious draught.  I had saved my hat, and filling it from the
pool, I carried the water to my two companions.  We longed to be able to
light a fire, but we had in the first place no flint and steel to
produce a flame, so of course it was not worth while to search about for
fuel.  At last, finding I could do nothing else for the comfort of my
companions, I sat down beside them and opened some more of the
shell-fish, which we ate raw.  They served to stay our hunger, but I
cannot say that eaten raw, without vinegar, or pepper, or bread, they
were particularly palatable.

We had promise of a dreary night, and this was only the commencement.
The poor old mate was very ill.  Deprived of his usual stimulants, he
could badly support the cold and wet to which he had been so long
exposed.  He began to shiver all over, and complained of pains in every
part of his body.  Then he was silent, and would do little more than
groan terribly.  At last his mind began to wander; he did not know where
he was nor what had happened, and he talked of strange scenes which had
occurred long ago, and of people he had known in his youth.  I could not
help listening with much interest to what he said.  By it I made out
that he was by birth a gentleman; that he had gone to sea in the navy
with every prospect of rising in it, and that he had been in one or two
actions in which he had distinguished himself.  But a change came over
him.  He had begun by small degrees, just taking a nip now and then,
till he had become--and that very rapidly--a hard drinker.  From that
time all his prospects in life were blighted.  From some misconduct he
was dismissed the ship to which he belonged, and soon afterwards, for
similar behaviour, the navy itself.  Then he squandered away in vice and
sensual indulgence the whole of his patrimony, and at last went to sea
in the merchant service as the only means of obtaining support.

His career has been that of many young men who have begun life with as
fair prospects, and ruined them all from their own folly and imprudence.
Poor old man, when I heard all this, and feared that he was dying, I
could not help pitying him, and feeling still more sad when I thought
that the last act of his life was a strong evidence that he had in no
way reformed as he advanced in years.

At length he slept more quietly, and, overcome by weariness, I too fell
fast asleep.  I did not awake till the sun was up and glancing on the
tops of the rocks before our cave.  Charley awoke at the same time, and
began to rub his eyes and to wonder where he was.  The old mate was
awake.  There was a dull, cold look in his eye, and his brow was
wrinkled with pain.  He groaned when I spoke to him, but after a little
time he aroused himself and spoke.  He said that he could not move a
limb, much less walk; but he begged that Charley and I would try and
find our way to the nearest village and bring him assistance.

"Make haste, that's good lads," said he, in a trembling voice; "my days
are numbered, I fear; but I am not fit to die.  I don't want to die, and
I would give all I own to save my life."

I did not want any pressing.  I got up, and though my limbs were stiff,
after moving them about a little I found that I could walk.  Charley at
first thought that he could not move, but on making one or two trials he
discovered that he was able to accompany me.  So we set off together to
try and find our way to Grimsby, which the mate told as was the nearest
village he knew of.

After wandering about and missing our way, and having to sit down
frequently from weakness, we reached Grimsby.  Our appearance excited a
good deal of compassion among the people, who came out of their houses
to inquire about the wreck.  The chief man of the place was a Mr Adams;
he took us into his house and sent for shoes and clothing for us, and
had us washed, and dressed in fresh dry clothes, and put food before us.
When I told him about the old mate, he said that he knew the place, and
that he could not let us go back, but that he would send some men with a
litter who would bring him in much sooner than if we were to go for him.
He was as good as his word, for not long after we had done breakfast
Mr Cole appeared; he seemed very ill, but he was able to take a little
food, and drink some spirits and water.  He was put at once to bed, and
Mr Adams sent over to Saint Mary's, the chief town in the island, for a
doctor to see him.  The doctor came, and shook his head and said that he
saw very little prospect of his recovery.  All the time we remained at
Grimsby, we were treated with the greatest kindness.  We had the best of
everything, comfortable beds, and nothing to do.  Charley and I sat up
by turns by the side of the old man's bed.  He grew worse and worse; we
soon saw that his days were drawing to a close.

A week passed away, and still he lingered on.  I asked the doctor if he
did not think that he might recover.

"No; it is impossible," he answered.

"Does he know, sir, that he is going to die?"  I asked.

"Every man knows that such will be his lot, one day or other," he
replied, "though many try very hard to forget it."

"Shall I tell him, sir, what you think?" said I; for I could not bear
the idea of allowing the old man to go out of the world without any
preparation.

"It will do him no harm," said the doctor.  "If it would.  I could not
allow it.  My duty is to keep body and soul together as long at I can."

I thought even at the time that something more was to be done.  It was
not, however, till many years afterwards that I discovered it was far
more important to prepare the soul for quitting the body, than to detain
it a few hours or days longer in its mortal frame, with the risk of its
losing all the future happiness it is so capable of enjoying.  When I
went back to the old mate I told him that the doctor thought he was in a
very bad way, and that he would never be on his feet again.

"Well, Will," said he, "it's a hard case; but I've known men as ill as I
am get well again, and I don't know why I shouldn't recover."

"But if you don't recover,--and the doctor, who ought to know, thinks
you won't,--wouldn't it be well to prepare for death, sir?" said I
boldly; for, having made up my mind to speak, I was not going to be put
off it by any fear of consequences.  He was silent for a long time.

"I'll think about it," he said at last.

He little thought how short a time he had to think about it.  So it is
with a great number of people.  They'll tell you that they will not
think about dying, but think whether they will make preparation for
death; and they go on thinking, till death itself cuts the matter short,
and the right preparations are never made.  So it was with the poor old
mate.  He said that he had no friends,--no relations who would care to
hear of him,--and that he had no message to send to any one.  He
intended, however, to get well and to look after his own affairs.  In
the evening he got worse.  I suspected that he thought he was dying,
because he gave his watch to Mr Adams, who had been so kind to us, and
divided a few shillings he had in his pockets between Charley and me.
The next day he died.  Though I had no respect for him, I felt a blank
as if I had lost an old friend.  Charley and I saw the poor old man
buried, and then we agreed that it was time for us to be looking out for
a vessel to get back to our masters.

The next day a brig called the _Mary Jane_ put into the harbour, bound
round from Bridgewater to London.  Though I wanted to get to Plymouth to
see my grandmother and aunt, and Charley wished to go to Hull, to stay
with his widowed mother, as another chance might not occur for some
time, we shipped aboard her.  Before going we told Mr Adams the name of
the firm to which we were apprenticed, that he might recover from them
the sums he had expended on us; but he replied, that he had taken care
of us because it was right to succour the distressed, and that he
required no reward or repayment.  He was a good man, and I hope he
enjoys his reward.

The desire to see my only relations grew stronger every day, and I
thought how happy I should feel if I could but get landed at Plymouth,
to run up and take them by surprise.  This, however, could not be.  When
we reached London I found that the _Mary Jane_, as soon as she had
discharged her cargo, was to sail again for the westward; and as she
this time was to touch at Plymouth, so the captain said, I asked him to
give me a passage.  He replied, that as I had behaved very well while
with him he would, so I remained on board.  Here I parted from Charley,
who got a berth on board a vessel bound for Hull, where he wanted to go.
We sailed, and I hoped in a few days to have my long-wished-for desire
gratified.  When, however, we got abreast of the Isle of Wight, we met
with a strong south-westerly gale, which compelled us to run for shelter
to the Motherbank.  While lying there the captain received orders from
his owners not to touch at Plymouth, but to go on to Falmouth.  This was
a great disappointment to me.  Still I thought that I could easily get
back from Falmouth to Plymouth, so that it would be wiser to stick by
the ship.

The old brig was not much of a sailer, but still, after running through
the Needles, we had a quick passage till we got a little to the westward
of the Eddystone.  The captain, for some reason or other, expecting a
south-westerly breeze, had been giving the land a wide berth, when the
wind, instead of coming out of the south-west, blew suddenly with
terrific violence from the north-east.  The old tub of a brig did her
best to beat up towards the land, but without avail.  A squall took all
her sails out of her, and away we went driving helplessly before it, as
if we were in a hurry to get across the Atlantic.  Our master, Captain
Stunt, though a good seaman, was nothing of a navigator, and we could
scarcely tell even where we were driving to.  The vessel also was old,
and had seen a good deal of hard service.  Our condition, therefore, was
very unsatisfactory.  We had no quadrant on board, and if we had
possessed one there was no one to use it--indeed, it was many days
before the sun appeared, and all we knew was that, by the course we had
drifted and the rate we had gone, we were a considerable distance from
any land.  Still the captain hoped, when the weather moderated, to be
able to beat back and get hold of the Irish coast, as the phrase is.  At
length the wind lulled a little, and we once more made sail on the brig.
We got on pretty well for a few hours, when down came the gale once
more on us, and before we could shorten sail, a heavy sea struck the
vessel, and she was turned over on her beam-ends, a sea at the same time
knocking our boats to pieces and washing everything loose off the deck.
There she lay like a log, the water rushed into her hold, and every
moment we expected she would go down.  Terror was depicted on every
countenance.  The only person who remained cool and collected was the
old master.

"My lads, we must cut away the masts--there's no help for it!" he sang
out in a clear voice.  He himself appeared directly afterwards with an
axe in his hand, but it was some time before others could be found.  The
first thing was to cut away the lee rigging and then the weather, that
the masts might fall clear of the hull.  A few well-directed strokes cut
nearly through them, and with a crash the remaining part broke off, and
the vessel lay a dismasted hull amid the high-leaping and foaming waves.
She righted, however, and we had now to hope that, if she weathered out
the gale, some vessel might fall in with us and tow the brig into
harbour, or at all events take us off the wreck.  The next thing to be
done was to rig the pumps to get the vessel clear of the water which had
washed into her.  We all pumped away with a will, for we knew that our
lives depended on our exertions.  Pump as hard as we could, however, we
found that we made no progress in clearing the wreck of water.  At last
the mate went down to ascertain the cause of this.  In a few minutes he
rushed on deck with a look of dismay.

"What's the matter, Ellis?" asked the captain.

"It's all up with us, sir," answered the mate.  "A butt has started, and
it is my belief that the brig will not swim another half hour."

"Then let us get some grog aboard, and die like men," cried some of the
crew.

"Die like brutes, you mean, my lads!" exclaimed the old master.  "No,
no, we will have none of that.  Let us see what we can do to save our
lives.  What, do you call yourselves British seamen, and talk of giving
in like cowards!  Don't you know that there's `a sweet little cherub
that sits up aloft' to take care of the life of poor Jack.  That means
that God Almighty watches over us, and will take care of those who trust
in Him."

These remarks from the old man had a good deal of effect with the
sailors.  "What is it you want us to do, sir?" they asked.

"Why, build a raft, my lads, and see if it won't float us."  Encouraged
by the spirited old man, we all set to work with a will.  With our axes
some of us cut up the deck and bulwarks, and collected all the remaining
spars, while the rest lashed them together.  The mate and a boy were
employed meantime in collecting all the provisions and stores he could
get at and in stowing them away in a couple of chests, which formed the
centre of our raft.  In a very short time nearly everything was ready.
The raft was, however, so large that we could not attempt to launch it,
but we hoped that it would float when the brig sank under us.  We had
all been so busy that we had not observed how rapidly the vessel was
sinking.  Suddenly the old master gave a loud shout, "Now, my lads, now,
my lads! to the raft, to the raft!"  Some of the men had gone forward to
get hold of their clothes or some money, or anything they could find,
against his advice.  Some of them were seen at this moment leisurely
coming up the fore-hatchway.  Even when he shouted to them they did not
hurry themselves, any more than sinners are apt to do when warned by
their faithful pastors to flee from the wrath to come.  Mr Ellis and I,
with two other men, were near him at the time.  We leaped on to the raft
as he spoke, and seizing some oars which had been placed on it, we stood
ready to shove it clear of the wreck as she sank.  The vessel gave a
plunge forward.  The other men on deck rushed aft with frantic haste,
but the waters were around them before they could catch hold of the
raft.  The look of horror on their countenances I cannot even now
forget.  One was a little before the others: he clutched at one of the
oars.  With our united strength we hauled him in.  Then down went the
brig.  The cry of our companions was quickly stifled.  The raft rocked
to and fro as the wild seas tossed up fiercely round us.  Now one came
sweeping on.  "Hold on! hold on!" shouted the old master.  One of our
number did not attend to him.  The sea passed over the raft, almost
blinding us When we looked up, the man was gone.  Five of us only
remained alive.  How soon more of our number might be summoned from the
world, who could tell?  I dare not dwell on the dreadful thoughts which
passed through my mind.  Was I truly under the ban of Heaven?  Was I to
prove the destruction of every vessel I sailed aboard?  This was the
fourth time I had been shipwrecked.  "Oh, my oath! my oath!"  I
ejaculated.  "Could I but retract it!  But how is that to be done?"
Uttered once, there it must remain engraven in the book of heaven.  As I
lay on that sea-tossed raft, in the middle of the Atlantic, I pondered
deeply of those things in my own wild untutored way.  Did but men
remember always that every word they utter, every thought to which they
give expression, is entered on a page never to be erased till the day of
judgment, how would it make them put a bridle on their tongues, how
should it make them watch over every wandering emotion of their minds,
and pray always for guidance and direction before they venture to speak!

For several days the gale continued.  We scarcely ventured to move for
fear of being washed away.  Now the raft rose on the side of a sea--now
rocked on its summit--now sunk down into the trough, but still was
preserved from upsetting--had which event occurred, we must have been
inevitably lost.  We had food in the chests, but we had little
inclination to taste it.  Water was our great want.  Our supply was very
scanty.  By the master's urgent advice, we took only sufficient at a
time to moisten our tongues.  For a few days we bore this with patience.
Then the wind went down, and the sea grew calm, and the hot sun came
out and struck down on our unprotected heads.  The weather grew hotter
and hotter.  The men declared they could stand it no longer.  One seized
the cask of water, and before the master could prevent him, took a huge
draught: then the others followed his example.  The mate for some time
withstood the temptation, but at length he yielded to it.

"Are we to die without a prospect of prolonging existence, because these
men consume all the water?"  I said to myself, and taking the cask, drew
enough to quench my thirst.  I offered it to the master.  "Come, sir,"
said I, "take the water, it may revive you, and perhaps to-morrow help
may come."

He could not withstand the appeal.  Perhaps some men might have done so,
from a high sense of the necessity of adhering to a resolution once
formed.  In two days we had not a drop of water left.  Then came horrors
unspeakable.  Madness seized the poor mate.  Before he could be
restrained, he leaped from the raft and sunk below the waves.  The other
two men sickened.  First one, then the other died.  The captain, though
the oldest of all, kept his senses and his strength.  He was a calm,
even-tempered, abstemious man.  Still, as he sat on the chest in the
middle of the raft, of which he and I were the only occupants, he spoke
encouragingly and hopefully to me.  I listened, but could scarcely
reply.  I felt a sickness overcoming me.  I thought death was
approaching.  I sank down at his feet with a total unconsciousness of my
miserable condition.



CHAPTER FIVE.

AGAIN PRESERVED--CHARLEY'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF--A NIGHT AT SEA--THE WEST
INDIES--A HURRICANE--SHIP ON FIRE--AGAIN ON A RAFT--LOOK OUT FOR HELP--
THE HAPPY RELIEF--THE BREAKING OUT OF WAR--PURSUED--ENDEAVOUR TO
ESCAPE--CAPTURED BY FRIENDS--THE MAN-OF-WAR--OUR MATE PRESSED--DUTY ON
BOARD--MR. MERTON'S GALLANTRY--OLD ENGLAND AT LAST--A BITTER
DISAPPOINTMENT--FRIENDS GONE--MISS RUNDLE--SHE TELLS ME WHAT HAS BECOME
OF AUNT BRETTA--VISIT MY GRANDMOTHER'S GRAVE.

My last thoughts had been, before I lost all consciousness, that death
was about to put an end to my sufferings.  I remember then hearing a
rush of waters--a confused sound--rattling of blocks--human voices--
cries and shrieks.  I looked up--it was night.  A dark object was
lowering above my head.  I fancied it was a huge black rock, and that it
was going to fall down and crush me.  "To what strange shore have we
drifted?"  I thought.  I cried out with terror.  "Never fear, my lad,"
said a voice.  "It's all right."  I found myself gently lifted up in the
arms of a person, and when I next opened my eyes, I discovered that I
was on the deck of a large ship and several people standing round me.
The light of a lantern fell on the face of one of them.  I looked hard
at the person.  Was it only fancy?  I was certain that it was the
countenance of Charley Iffley.  I pronounced his name.  He had not
before recognised me.

"Why, Will Weatherhelm, how did you come out here?" he exclaimed, in a
tone of surprise.  But a gentleman, whom I found to be doctor, told him
that he must not now talk to me, and that he would find out all about it
by and by.

I was then carried below, and placed in a berth, and very kindly
treated.  In a few days I was sufficiently recovered to go on deck.  I
was glad to see old Captain Stunt there also, looking well and fresh.  I
found that we were on board a large West India trader, the _Montezuma_,
belonging to the firm to which I was apprenticed, Messrs. Dickson,
Waddilove, and Buck.  I little knew what additional cause for gratitude
we had for our escape, for the ship coming on the raft at night while
Mr Stunt was asleep, we were not observed till she actually grazed by
it.  The noise awoke him, when he shouted out, and the ship being
close-hauled, and having little way, was immediately luffed up, and
without difficulty we were taken on board.

"Well, Charley, how did you come to be on board the _Montezuma_?"  I
asked.

"That question is very simply answered," said he.  "When I got home I
found that my uncles and aunts and all my first cousins looked upon me
as a very troublesome visitor, and hinted that the sooner I took myself
off to sea again the better.  It is not comfortable to feel that
everybody is giving one the cold shoulder, so I begged to have a new
kit, and offered to look out for a ship.  It was wonderful how willingly
everybody worked, and how soon my outfit was ready.  My eldest uncle
hurried off to Mr Dickson, and as they were just sending the
_Montezuma_ to sea, and had room for an apprentice, I was immediately
sent on board, and here I am.  Now you know all about me.  I thought I
was going to change and become a better character.  I was sorry for many
things I had done, and if my relations had treated me kindly at first, I
think they would have found me very different to what I was.  How ever,
give a dog a bad name and it sticks to him like pitch."

"But I am afraid, Charley, from what you have told me, that you gave
yourself the bad name," said I.  "You should not blame others."

"I do not," he answered.  "All I blame them for is, that they did not
soften their hearts toward me, and try to reform me.  They might have
done it, and I could have loved some of them tenderly; but others are
harsh, stiff, cold, very good people, who have no sympathy for any who
do not think like themselves, and make no allowances for the follies and
weaknesses of those who have not had the advantages they have enjoyed."
And Charley put his head between his hands and burst into tears.

I was very glad to see this.  It made me like him more than I had ever
before done.  I have since often thought how very different many young
people would turn out if they were spoken to by their elders with
gentleness and kindness--if sympathy was shown them, and if their faults
were clearly pointed out.

Our owners were very respectable people, and understood their business,
so they were generally well served.  Captain Horner, of the _Montezuma_,
was a good sailor.  The crew consequently looked up to him, though he
kept himself aloof from them.  He was what the world calls a very good
sort of man, but as to his religion and morals I was not able to form an
opinion.  It may seem strange that I, a young apprentice, should have
thought at all on the subject.  Perhaps, if those in command knew how
completely their conduct and behaviour are canvassed by those under
them, they would behave very differently to what they do.  Our second
mate, Josias Merton by name, was a man worthy of remark.  He was a very
steady, serious-minded person, and yet full of life and fun.  He prided
himself on his knowledge of his profession in all its details.  His
heart was kind and gentle, and he was at the same time brave and
determined, active and prompt in action.  He never undertook what he did
not believe, after due consideration, he could accomplish, and therefore
seldom failed in what he undertook.  Both Charley and I owed him much,
for he spared no pains to improve us and to instruct us in our
profession.

As soon as I was well, I was placed in a watch and had begun to know and
to do my duty.  The Atlantic afforded me the sight of many objects to
which I had been unaccustomed in the Mediterranean.  I remember one
night coming on deck, and after I had looked to set what sail was set,
and how the ship was steering, I cast my eyes over the calm ocean.  It
was very dark.  There was no moon, and clouds obscured the stars.  I
gazed with amazement.  The whole surface of the deep, far as the eye
could reach, was lighted with brilliant flashes.  I bent over the side.
The sea was alive with fish of every size and shape.  Some were leaping
up, ever and anon, out of the water; others were chasing their smaller
brethren through it; others, again, rolled over in it, or lay floating
idly near, as if looking up with their bright eyes to watch the ship,
the invader of their liquid home.  People talk of the lack-lustre of a
fish's eye.  They are acquainted only with a dead fish.  Did they ever
remark the keen, bright, diabolical eye of a shark watching for his
expected victim?  I know nothing in nature more piercing, more
dread-inspiring.  Here were collected sharks, and pilot-fish, and
albicores, bonettas, dolphins, flying-fish, and numberless others, for
which old Mr Stunt, to whom I applied, could give me no name.  The very
depths of the ocean seemed to have sent forth all their inhabitants to
watch our proceedings.

"I suppose that it is the shining copper on the ship's bottom attracts
them," said the old man.  "They take it to be some big light, I
conclude."  Whether he was right or not I have never since heard any one
give an opinion.

The first place at which we touched was Bridgetown, in the island of
Barbadoes.  I thought the Bay of Carlisle, with the capital Bridgetown
built round its shores, and the fertile valleys, and rich fields of
sugar-cane, altogether a very lovely spot.  The West India Islands are
divided into what are called the Windward and Leeward Islands.  The
wind, it must be understood, blows for nine months of the year from the
east.  The most eastern islands are therefore called the Windward
Islands, and those in the western group the Leeward Islands.  Of all the
Caribbean Islands, Barbadoes is the most windward, and the Havannah the
most leeward.  We had to land cargo and passengers, and to take in cargo
at several islands.  We commenced, therefore, at the windward ones.  In
that way I became acquainted with a considerable portion of the West
India Islands, and very beautiful places I saw on them.  The _Montezuma_
was not long in getting a full cargo, and then she prepared to return
home.  The last place at which we touched was Kingston in Jamaica.  At
length, I thought to myself, I shall once more see Old England, and
satisfy my kind grandmother and Aunt Bretta that I am still alive.  I
hope that I may leave this vessel without her being shipwrecked, as has
been the fate of every one I have yet been on board.  Just as this idea
had crossed my mind the captain sent for me, and said that he was going
to leave Mr Merton in charge of a small schooner, which was to be
employed in running between the different islands to collect cargo to be
ready for the return of the ship, and that he wished me to remain.

"You will be soon out of your indentures, and if you behave well, as I
have no doubt you will, I will promise you a mate's berth," he added.

This was indeed more than I could have expected; and though I was
disappointed in not going home, I thanked the captain very much for his
good opinion of me and kind intentions, and accepted his offer.  The
_Montezuma_ sailed for England, and I found myself forming one of the
crew of the _Grogo_ schooner.  We had a very pleasant life of it,
because the black slaves did all the hard work, taking in and
discharging cargo, and bringing water and wood off to us.

I might fill pages with descriptions of the curious trees and plants and
animals I saw in the West Indies.  There is one, however, which I must
describe.  I was asking Mr Merton one day the meaning of the name of
our schooner.  He laughed, and said that grogo is the name of a big
maggot which is found in the Cockarito palm or cabbage tree.  This
maggot is the grub of a large black beetle.  It grows to the length of
four inches, and is as thick as a man's thumb.  Though its appearance is
not very attractive, it is considered a delicious treat by people in the
West Indies, when well dressed, and they declare that it has the flavour
of all the spices of the East.  These maggots are only found in such
cabbages as are in a state of decay.  The Cockarito palm often reaches
fifty feet in height.  In the very top is found the most delicate
cabbage enclosed in a green husk, composed of several skins.  These are
peeled off, until the white cabbage appears in long thin flakes, which
taste very like the kernel of a nut.  The heart is the most delicate,
and, being sweet and crisp, is often used as a salad.  The outside when
boiled is considered far superior to any European cabbage.  One of the
most important trees in the West Indies is the plantain tree.  It grows
to the height of about twenty feet, and throws out its leaves from the
top of the stem so as to look something like an umbrella.  The leaves
when fresh are of a shining sea-green colour, and have the appearance of
rich satin.  When the young shoots come out, they split and hang down in
tatters.  From the top grows a strong stalk about three feet long, which
bends down with the weight of its purple fruit, each of which is in
shape like a calf's heart--a considerable number form one bunch.  Each
tree produces but one bunch at a time.  The plantain, when ripe, forms a
delicious fruit, and when boiled or roasted, it is used instead of
potatoes.  It forms a principal portion of the food of the negroes.  The
cassava forms another important article of the food of the blacks.  The
plant grows about four feet high; the stem is of a grey colour, and
divides near its top into several green branches, from which spring red
stalks with large leaves.  There are two species, the sweet and bitter
cassava.  The bitter is excessively poisonous till exposed to the heat
of fire.  The root is like a coarse potato.  It is dried and then grated
on a grater formed by sharp pebbles stuck on a board, and the juice
which remains is then pressed out by means of an elastic basket, into
which the grated root is stuffed.  The farina thus produced is made into
thin cakes and baked.  Tapioca is the finer portion of the farina.

I might, as I was saying, fill my pages with an account of the wonderful
productions of those fertile islands, of the value of which I do not
think even now my countrymen are fully aware.  One curious circumstance
I must mention in connection with them and my paternal country,
Shetland, though I did not hear it till very many years afterwards.  It
shows how intimately the interests of distant parts of the world are
united.  The slaves in the West Indies were supplied by their masters
with salt-fish, which fish were caught by the Shetlanders off their
coasts.  When the slaves were emancipated, they refused any longer to
eat the description of food which they had been compelled to consume
during their servitude, and the Shetland fish-dealers had not thought in
the meantime of looking out for fresh markets.  The consequence was,
they were ruined; the herring boats were laid up, and the fishermen had
to go south in search of employment.

However, that has nothing to do with my story.  The _Grogo_ was very
successful, and we were looking forward every day for the return of the
_Montezuma_.  I could not help telling Mr Merton one day of my rash
oath which I had made in the presence of my grandmother, and how I had
been wrecked in every vessel I had sailed in from the time I came to
sea.  He tried to reason me out of the belief that I was the cause of
the loss of the vessels.  He said the oath was wicked, there was no
doubt of that, but that others had lost their lives and some their
property, while I each time had suffered less than anybody else.  I saw
the strength of his reasoning, but still I was not convinced.  I felt
that I had deserved all the hardships I had endured, and I fully
expected to be wrecked again.  What followed may seem very strange.  All
I can do is to give events as they occurred.  Two days after this we lay
becalmed about ten miles from the land off Port Morant, to the eastward
of Kingston in Jamaica.  We had an old man of colour, who acted as pilot
and mate on board.  He had been below asleep.  At last he turned out of
his hot, stifling berth, and came on deck.  He looked round the horizon
on every side.

"Captain," said he, "I wish we were safe in port.  There's something bad
coming."

"What is it, Billy?" asked Mr Merton.

"A hurricane!" was the answer.

The hurricane came.  The spirit of the whirlwind rode triumphantly
through the air.  Earth and ocean felt his power; trees were torn up by
the roots; houses were overthrown; the water rose in huge waves--
hissing, and foaming, and leaping madly around us.  Our topmasts had
been struck; every stitch of canvas closely furled, and everything on
deck securely lashed.  The fierce blast of the tempest struck the little
vessel; round and round she was helplessly whirled.  Away we drove out
to sea, and we thought we were safe; but our hopes were to prove vain.
Once more we approached the shore with redoubled speed; the frowning
rocks threatened our instant destruction; we could do nothing for our
preservation.  To anchor was utterly useless.  We shook hands all round;
on, on we drove.  A yellow sandy bay appeared between two dark rocks; a
huge sea carried us on; safely between the two rocks it bore us; up the
beach it rolled.  The schooner drew but little water.  High up the sea
carried us stem on.  We rushed forward, and springing along the
bowsprit, leaped on to the sand, and before another sea could overtake
us we were safe out of its reach.  We fell down on our knees and uttered
a prayer of thanksgiving for our preservation.  In ten minutes not a
fragment of the schooner held together.  We had truly reason to be
grateful.

"Another time wrecked," said I to Mr Merton.

"Yes, Will; but another time saved," was his answer.

We got safe to the village of Morant Bay, where we were very kindly
received, and the next day were forwarded over land to Kingston, there
to await the arrival of the _Montezuma_.  She came into Port Royal
Harbour in about a week, not having felt the hurricane.  As the agent
had a full cargo for her, she only remained a short time, and at length
I found myself on the way to the shores of old England.

"There is no fear now but what I shall get to Plymouth at last," I
thought to myself as I walked the deck in my watch the first wight after
we had got well clear of the land, and were standing out into the broad
Atlantic.  Then I remembered my rash oath, and in spite of all Mr
Merton's reasonings, I could not help believing that its consequences
would still follow me.  "Home! home! with all its endearments, is not
for you.  The time of your probation is yet unfulfilled!--your
punishment is not accomplished!"--a voice whispered in my ear.  I could
not silence it.  Still I thought that it was only fancy.  Just then
Charley Iffley joined me in my walk; we were in the same watch.
Hitherto I had never told him of my belief that a curse was pursuing me.
I should have been wiser not to have mentioned the subject to him;
still I thought that he was so much changed that he would sympathise
with me.  I told him all that had occurred from the moment when I first
expressed my wish to go to sea to my grandmother and aunt, and reminded
him of all the sufferings I had endured, and the number of times I had
been shipwrecked.  Instead, however, of treating the subject in the
gentle, serious way Mr Merton had done, he burst into a loud fit of
laughter.

"Nonsense, Will," he exclaimed, "you'll next accuse me of being your
evil spirit, and of tempting you to sin.  Many a man has been
shipwrecked as often as you have who has been sent to sea against his
own will; and if he swore at all, it was that he might speedily get on
shore.  Get that idea out of your head as soon as possible."

I was anxious enough to follow Charley's advice, but do all I could, the
idea came back and back again whenever I found myself during my watch at
night taking a turn by myself on deck.

Charley was already out of his indentures, and as he had become a steady
fellow and a good seaman, he hoped to be made mate on his next voyage.
At last the day arrived when the term of my apprenticeship expired, and
I was to be a free man, able to take any berth offered to me.  My only
wish, however, after I had paid my family a visit, was to be employed in
the service of my present owners.  To commemorate the event, Charley
proposed having a feast in our mess, and he managed to purchase from the
third mate, who acted as a sort of purser, various articles of luxury
and an additional bottle of rum.  We were very jolly, and very happy we
thought ourselves, and blew all care to the winds.  The passengers and
the captain were making merry in the same way in the cabin, drinking
toasts, and singing songs, and making speeches, and telling funny
stories, so the cabin-boy told us as he came forward convulsed with
laughter.  The wind was fair and light, the sea was smooth, and no ship
floating on the ocean could have appeared more free from danger.
Suddenly there was a cry--a cry which, next to "Breakers ahead," is the
most terror-inspiring which can strike on a seaman's ear.  It was,
"Fire! fire! fire!"  Who uttered it?  A man with frantic haste--horror
in his countenance--rushed up from the after hold.  "Fire! fire! fire!"
he repeated.  In an instant fore and aft the revellers in dismay sprang
from their seats and hurried on deck.  The captain was calm and
collected, had he lost his presence of mind, who could have hoped to
escape?  With rapid strides he reached the after-hatchway, out of which
streams of smoke were gushing forth.  He summoned the passengers and
some of the crew to provide themselves with buckets, and to heave water
down upon the spot whence the smoke seemed to come, while the rest of
the crew were employed in pumping water into the hold.  Wet sails and
blankets were brought, and, led by Mr Merton, some of the more daring
of the men leaped down with them, in the hopes of stifling the flames
before they burst forth.  I followed the second mate; I knew the risk,
but I resolved to share it with him.  "More blankets! more sails!" we
shouted.  They were hove down to us; but in vain we threw them over the
lower hatchway.  Thicker and thicker masses of smoke came gushing forth,
and we were obliged to cry out to be drawn up, and were almost
overpowered before we reached the deck.  Two of our number had been left
behind.  Mr Merton and I were about to return, when a loud explosion
was heard.  Part of the deck was torn up, and flames burst fiercely
forth through the hatchway.  It was very evident that some of the rum
casks had ignited, as was afterwards ascertained, by a candle having
been carelessly left burning in the hold.

All hopes of saving the ship were now abandoned.  The boats could not
carry the entire crew and passengers.  They were, however, instantly
lowered into the water with a boat-keeper in each, while the rest of the
people were told off, some to get up provisions and water, and others to
construct a raft.  I was engaged on the raft, but remembering what I had
suffered on former occasions, I urged the people to take an ample supply
of water in each of the boats.  Scarcely was the long-boat in the water
than the flames burst forth through the main hatchway, and had not the
captain been prompt in his orders, the boat itself would have been lost.
Provisions for the raft were put into the long-boat, while we were
working away at its construction.  Every moment we expected to see the
flames burst forth from under our feet.  We worked with might and main;
with our axes we cut away the after-bulwarks, so as to launch it
overboard.  We had crowbars in our hands.  It was barely finished.

"Heave away, my lads, heave away!" shouted the captain.  "Now,
gentlemen; now, my men; those told off for the boats, be smart!  Get
into them!  No crowding, though."

The orders were obeyed, for everybody had learned to confide in the
captain's judgment.  We meantime were urging the raft over the side.
"Quick! quick!" was the cry.  With reason, too.  The flames burst forth
close to our heels.  With mighty efforts, by means of our crowbars, we
prized on the raft, it being balanced over the sea, yet the flames
almost caught it.  One effort more.  It plunged into the water.  A rope
brought it up.  Almost before it again rose to the surface we were
compelled by the devouring element behind us to leap on to it.  The deck
gave way with a crash as we left it, and two more poor fellows sank back
into the flames.  The painter was cut, and as the ship drove slowly away
from us, another loud explosion was heard, and fore and aft she was
wrapped in flames, which rose writhing and twisting up to her topgallant
masts.

"And there's an end of the fine old _Montezuma_.  Well, she was a happy
ship!" exclaimed a seaman near me, passing his hand across his brow.
"You know, Weatherhelm, I've sailed in her since I was a boy, and I have
learned to look upon her pretty much as if she was my mother."  I never
heard warmer praise bestowed on a merchantman.

Thus was I once more floating on a raft in the middle of the Atlantic.
"I thought it would be so," I muttered to myself.  "My oath, my oath?"

While watching the conflagration of the ship, we had had no time to
think of our own condition.  The boats had pulled off to some distance
from the burning ship, and we were left without oars, or sails, or
provisions.  Night, too, was coming on.  The dreadful idea occurred to
some of us, that those in the boats with their eyes dazzled by the glare
of the burning ship might not see the raft.  The captain, by the urgent
request of the people, had gone in the long-boat.  Mr Merton had
remained with us.  We shouted--but in vain--the boats were too far off
to allow our voices to be heard.  The night came on, but still we could
see the burning wreck, and we felt sure that while that beacon was in
sight, the boats would not give up their search for us.  We forgot how
fast the wreck had been drifting away.  Ours seemed a hard fate.
Without food or water, unless picked up we must evidently soon perish.
Mr Merton addressed us in a spirited, manly way.  He told us not to
despair--that many poor fellows had been much worse off than we were,
and that certainly by daylight we should be seen by our shipmates in the
boats, and be supplied with what we wanted.  If not, we were exactly in
the track of homeward-bound vessels coming from America, and that we
should be certainly fallen in with.

It was a very dreary night, though.  All we could do was to sit quiet
and watch the burning wreck.  Gradually the flames burnt lower and
lower.  Then a huge glowing ember appeared, and that suddenly sank from
sight.  In spite of our position, I had fallen asleep, when I was
aroused by a loud shout from my companions.  It was in answer to a cry
which came floating over the water from a distance.  We waited eagerly
listening.  Again the far-off cry was repeated.  Loudly we cheered in
return, for we were very hungry, and had not yet had time to grow weak
from hunger.  In less than twenty minutes the boats came dashing up
round us, and we found ourselves amply supplied with provisions, which
we discussed with no small appetites.  The captain then addressed us
all; he told us that we must husband our provisions and water, as we
could not tell when any vessel might fall in with us.  He then urged the
people in the other boats to remain by the raft, and suggested that in
the day-time they should extend themselves about ten miles on either
side so as to have a wider field of observation, but in the night that
they should come back and hang on to the raft.

I ought to have said there were four boats, and thus we were able to
command a range of vision of at least fifty miles.  That is to say--the
raft being in the centre--the boats were twenty miles apart, and from
each boat a sail of fifteen miles off could at all events be seen.  The
plan was agreed on.  We had secured a long spar, which we set up as a
mast in the centre of the raft, with a flag at its head, so that the
boats could always have us in view; besides which, several compasses had
been saved which would enable them to find us even in thick weather.
All we had now, therefore, much to fear from was bad weather and a long
detention, when we might run short of provisions.  The day passed away,
and no sign of a vessel was perceived.  The mate kept up our spirits by
every means in his power.  He encouraged us to sing songs and tell
stories to each other, and to give an account of our adventures, and
then he told us some stories, and some of them were very funny, and made
us laugh, and I must say that I have passed many duller days than were
those which I spent on that raft.  "And now, my lads," said he, "as we
cannot steer our course across the ocean without a compass, no more can
we our course through life without principles to guide us.  Now the only
book which can give us right principles--can show us how to live--the
port we are bound for, and how to gain it, is one I have in my pocket."
We all wondered what he was aiming at, and he was silent for some little
time to allow our thoughts to settle down after the joking we had had.
Then he pulled out of his pocket a Bible, and took his seat on a cask in
the middle of the raft.  "I am going to read to you from this Holy Book,
my lads, and I hope that you will listen to what I read--try to
understand it--think over it--and do what it tells you."  I've often
since heard the word of God read to sailors, but never more
impressively; never to better effect, I believe, than I did on that raft
in the Atlantic.

Just at nightfall all the boats came back, and hung on to us during the
night, and nearly all the people went soundly to sleep.  The captain in
the morning proposed that those in the boat should change places with
those on the raft, but we said that we were contented to be where we
were, and that we preferred remaining with Mr Merton.  The next day
passed away much as the first, so did a third and fourth.  In the
evening, however, of that last day, three boats only came back; the
whale-boat, commanded by the fourth mate, did not make her appearance.
Various were the surmises about her.  Some thought that an accident had
happened to her; many expressed their fears that the mate had deserted
us, and abuse of no gentle nature was heaped on his and his companions'
heads.  The only people who made no complaints, and only seemed anxious
to find excuses for him, were those on the raft.  Why was this?
Because, as I fully believe, they were influenced by the principles of
Christian charity which the mate had been explaining to us, that
principle which thinketh no wrong, until evidence indubitable is brought
that wrong has been committed.  Although we on the raft did not abuse
the first mate and those with him, we could not help feeling anxious for
his return.  An hour of darkness passed away, and then another and
another, and still the whale-boat did not appear.  She had gone, I ought
to have said, on the lee side of the raft; but the wind was light, so
that she could have had no difficulty in pulling up to it.  No one this
night felt inclined to go to sleep.  We were all too anxious about our
companions.  I saw Mr Merton turning his eyes with a steady gaze away
to the south-east.  I looked in the same direction.  Gradually I saw
emerging out of the darkness an opaque, towering mass.  At first I
thought it was a mere mark in the clouds, and then it resolved itself
into the form of a tall ship close-hauled under all canvas.  A shout
from the boats showed that they had discovered the stranger.  Again we
shouted, and a cheer came up from her to show us that we were seen and
heard.  In a few minutes she hove-to, and our own whale-boat appeared
from alongside her, accompanied by another boat.  The mate explained, as
he made a tow-rope fast to the raft to tow us alongside the ship, that
he had seen her just before nightfall, and by pulling away to the
southward had happily succeeded in cutting her off.

We soon found ourselves on board a large ship, the _Happy Relief_--and a
happy relief she was to us--bound homeward from Honduras with logwood.
They were a rough set on board, from the master to the apprentices, but
they treated us kindly, as most sailors treat others in distress, and we
had every reason to be grateful to them.  We had still greater reason to
be thankful that we got on board their ship that night, for before the
morning a gale began to blow, and a heavy sea soon got up, which would
have swept us all off the raft, and in all probability swamped the
boats.  It continued blowing for several days.  The ship laboured very
much, and soon all hands were called to the pumps.  She had proved a
fortunate ship to us, and it was a fortunate circumstance for her that
she had fallen in with us; for all hands had to keep spell and spell at
the pumps, and even so we were only just able to keep the leaks under.
Had she not had us on board, she would very soon, I suspect, have been
water-logged.  At length the gale abated, but we notwithstanding, had to
keep the pumps going night and day.  By the time we reached the Chops of
the Channel, having a fair breeze, we were looking out every instant to
make the land, when a big ship hove in sight, standing directly across
our course.  The people on board the Honduras ship had told us that a
few days before they fell in with us, they had spoken an outward-bound
brig, from which they gained the news that war had broken out between
England and France and Spain.  We made out the stranger to be a heavy
frigate, but as she showed no colours, to what nation she belonged we
could not tell.  Some on board thought we ought to haul our wind on the
opposite tack to that she was on, so as to avoid her altogether.  She
was standing with her head to the north.  Our captain soon after gave
the order to brace up the yards on the larboard tack, hoping to run into
Mount's Bay or Falmouth harbour.  We soon had proof that those on board
the frigate had their eyes on us.  The smoke of a gun was seen to issue
from one of her bow ports, as a sign for us to heave-to, but the captain
thought he should first like to try the fleetness of his heels before he
gave in.  So we continued our course to the northward.  The frigate on
this braced her yards sharp up, and showed that she was not going to
allow us to escape her, and, by the way she walked along, we soon saw
that we should without fail become her prize.

All the men who had got two suits of clothes went and put them on, and
stowed away all their money and valuables in their pockets, and we all
of us began to think how we should like to see the inside of a Spanish
or French prison.  For my part, I had heard such stories about the
cruelty of the Spaniards and French that I began to wish I was back
again on the raft in the middle of the Atlantic.  One thing is
certain,--there is nothing harder than to become a prisoner at the
beginning of a war, to an enemy who hates you, with very little prospect
of being exchanged.  All the glasses in the ship were turned towards the
frigate as she drew near, to try and make out what she was.  Presently
she fired another gun across our bows, and this time she was within shot
of us, and at the same moment up went the British ensign.  Seeing that
there was no chance of escape, our captain hove-to.  I thought that as
she was an English ship, all was right, and could not make out the
reason of the agitation some of the older hands were in.  In a quarter
of an hour or so, a boat with a lieutenant and a pretty strongly armed
crew came alongside.  As he stepped on board, he went up to the captain
and told him about the war, and asked where he had come from, and
whether he had fallen in with any strange ships.  "And now, captain,"
said he, quite calmly, "I should just like to see your crew.  Muster
them on deck, if you please.  You've a large number," he remarked, as
soon as we all appeared.  The captain told him how he had picked so many
of us up at sea.  "Ho, ho!" said the lieutenant; "come here, my lads;
you'd be glad to serve his Majesty, I know."

And he told all the crew of the _Montezuma_, except the captain and
first mate, to get into his boat.

There was no little grumbling at this, but he did not appear like a man
who would stand any nonsense of this sort, so it went no further.  "But
those two are apprentices," said Captain Horner, pointing to Charley and
me, and forgetting that we were both out of our indentures.

"Stout lads for apprentices," remarked the lieutenant.  "Let me see your
papers."  Now it might have been said, as we had been wrecked, that we
had lost them, but I would not tell a lie to gain any object.

"Please, sir," said I, "the captain makes a mistake.  I was out of my
indentures a few days ago.  I've no protection, and I don't want any.
I, for one, am ready to serve his Majesty and to fight for my country."

Charley hearing me say this, declared himself of the same mind, and
wishing Captain Horner and the captain of the Honduras ship good-bye,
and thanking them, we went over to the side ready to step into the boat.
The lieutenant said he liked our spirit, and that he should keep his
eye on us, and if we behaved well he should recommend us for promotion.
This was satisfactory, but still I felt that all my prospects of
becoming a mate were blown to the wind.  The person who felt it most was
Mr Merton.  From being an officer (and a gentleman he always was) he
was reduced to the rank of a common seaman.  What was far worse, too, he
was engaged to be married, as soon as he returned home, to the daughter
of a clergyman, who, Charley told me, was quite a lady.  Now, poor
fellow, for what he could tell, years might pass before he would be able
to return on shore.

"Well, my man, are you ready to go?" said the lieutenant to him.

"I was second mate of the ship, and have private affairs which require
my presence in England, sir," he answered, quite calmly; and his voice
showed that he was a man of education.

"That is no protection, I am afraid," said the lieutenant.  "Duty is not
always pleasant, but it must be done."

"Very true, sir," said Mr Merton; "but let me write a line to send
home, and speak a few words to my late captain.  I will not detain you."

"I can give you five minutes," said the lieutenant, pulling out his
watch.

Mr Merton thanked him and hurried below.

Poor fellow!  What words of anguish and sorrow did he pour out in that
letter; yet, I doubt not, he expressed his own resignation, and
endeavoured to encourage her to whom it was addressed to hope that yet
happy days were in store for them.  He entrusted the letter to the
captain, and begged him to go and see and comfort the lady to whom it
was addressed.  Then with a calm countenance he appeared on deck, and
signified to the lieutenant that he was ready to accompany him, I doubt
not he felt like a brave man going to execution.

The frigate we were on board was the _Brilliant_, of forty guns, and, as
I looked round and saw what perfect order she was in, I thought her a
very fine ship, and except that I regretted not being able to return
home, I was perfectly content to belong to her.  Men-of-war in those
days were very different to what they are at present.  Men of all
classes were shipped on board, often out of the prisons and hulks, and
the sweepings of the streets.  Quantity was looked-for because quality
could not be got.  An able seaman was a great prize.  The pressgangs
were always at work on shore, and they thought themselves fortunate when
such could be found.  Now, with such a mixture of men, the bad often
outnumbering the good, very strict and stern discipline was necessary.

The very first day I got on board I saw five men flogged for not being
smart enough at reefing topsails.  I thought it very cruel, and it set
me against the service.  I did not inquire who the men were.  I found
afterwards that they were idle rascals who deserved punishment, and
always went about their duty in a lazy, sluggish way.  However, there
was no doubt that our captain was a very taut hand.  The ship had just
come out of harbour.  He had found out that the greater part of his crew
were a bad lot, and he was getting them into order.  He treated us who
had belonged to the _Montezuma_ in a very different way.  He saw that we
were seamen, and he valued us accordingly.  Still I think there was more
punishment on board than was absolutely necessary.  We had nine powerful
fellows doing duty as boatswain's mates on board, and there was starting
and flogging going on every day and all day long.  The first time I ever
saw a man punished I felt sick at heart, and thought I should have
fallen on deck, but I recovered myself and looked out afterwards with
very little concern.

The frigate I found was bound on a six months' cruise in the Bay of
Biscay, not the quietest place in the world in the winter season.  Mr
Merton was very soon made captain of the fore-top, and Charley and I
were stationed on the top with him.  Owing to him, I believe, we avoided
being flogged, for he was always alive and brisk and kept us up to our
duty.  After all, there's nothing like doing things briskly.  There's no
pleasure in being slow and sluggish about doing a thing, and a great
waste of time.  Mr Merton soon attracted the notice of the officers,
and they used to address him very differently to the way they spoke to
the other men.  There was in the top with us a young midshipman: he was
a fine little lad--full of life, and fun, and daring.  He was the son or
heir of some great lord or other, and a relation of the captain's, who
had promised especially to look after him.  Well, one day the ship was
running before the wind with studden sails set alow and aloft and every
sail drawing, so that she was going not less than eight or ten knots,
when this youngster, with two or three others, was skylarking aloft.  He
had gone out on the fore-topsail yard-arm, when somehow or other he lost
his hold and down he fell.  Fortunately, he struck the belly of the
lower studden sail, which broke his fall and sent him clear of the ship
into the sea.  Just at that moment Mr Merton was coming up into the
top.  He saw the accident.  Almost before the sentry at the gangway
could cry out, "A man overboard!" he was in the water striking out to
catch hold of the youngster, who couldn't swim a stroke.  At that moment
the captain came on deck.  He was in a great state of agitation when he
heard who it was who had fallen overboard.  Studden sail-sheets were let
fly.  No one minded the spars, though they were all cracking away; the
helm was put down, the yards were braced sharp up, and the ship was
brought close on a wind.

Meantime Mr Merton was striking out towards where young Mr Bouverie
had gone down.  All eyes were directed to the spot.  "Now he sees him.
He strikes out with all his might to catch him before the youngster
sinks again.  He has him--he has him, hurra!"  Such were the cries
uttered on every side, for the youngster was a favourite with all hands.
A boat was instantly lowered, and Mr Merton was brought on board with
the youngster he had rescued, both of them nearly exhausted.  The
midshipman was carried into the captain's cabin.  Mr Merton, when he
had shifted his wet things, returned on deck to his duty.  The captain,
however, immediately sent for him, and told him that he could not find
words to express his gratitude.  Mr Merton thanked him, and said that
he had merely done his duty, and did not consider which of the
midshipmen it was he was going to try to save.

"Well, you have prevented a mother's heart from being wrung with agony,
and a noble house from going into mourning," said the captain.  "You
deserve to be rewarded."  Mr Merton thanked him, and went about his
duty, thinking little more of the matter.

Now, although seamen know how to value a man who has leaped overboard,
at the risk of his own life, to save a fellow-creature from drowning,
they do not make much fuss about it, because most of them would be ready
to do the same thing themselves.  Still, it was easy to see that Joe
Merton, as he was called by the ship's company, was raised yet higher in
their estimation.

After we had been at sea some time we stood away to the westward.  One
forenoon, a shout from the masthead announced a sail in sight.

"Where away?" asked the officer of the watch.

"On the weather bow," was the answer.  "There are two--three--four--the
whole horizon is studded with them," cried the look-out.

The officers were pretty quickly aloft to see what the strangers could
be, for some thought perhaps it was an enemy's fleet.  As they drew
near, however, they were pronounced to be merchantmen, and before long
we ascertained by their signals that they were part of a homeward-bound
West India convoy, which had been separated in a gale of wind, off the
banks of Newfoundland, from the ships of war in charge of them.  Finding
that they were totally unprotected, our captain made up his mind that it
was his duty to see them safe into port, and signalling to them to keep
together and put themselves under his orders, he invited some of the
masters of the vessels near him to come on board to give him the news.
Among other things, he learned that a fast-sailing French privateer had
been hovering about them for some time, and had already picked off two,
if not more, of their number, both heavily laden and valuable ships
belonging to London; and the masters were of opinion that she had
carried them into Santa Cruz, a harbour in the island of Teneriffe, one
of the Canaries, because they had spoken an American vessel, the master
of which told them that he had passed two such ships, accompanied by a
craft answering to the description of the privateer, steering for that
place.  This information made the captain in a greater hurry than ever
to get back to England, as he had made up his mind, as it afterwards
appeared, to go and try to cut the ships out.

A strong westerly wind sprang up soon after this, and carried us in five
days, with all our convoy, safe into Plymouth Sound.  Now, for the first
time after so many years, I found myself back at the place where I had
passed my childhood, and where the only relations I had ever known, the
only beings whose love I had any right to claim, resided.  How eagerly I
gazed on the shore, and I thought even that I could make out the little
neat white row of cottages outside the town, in one of which my
grandmother and aunt lived!  But now came the question, how could I hope
to get on shore?  It was not likely that any leave would be granted, as
we guessed that the frigate would not remain more than a day or two in
harbour.  The captain had gone on shore to we the admiral, and the first
lieutenant was also called away, so that the ship was left in charge of
the second lieutenant, who had pressed me.  I knew that I was not likely
to get what I wanted by holding back, so I made bold and went up to him
and told him how I had left my grandmother when I was a boy, and had
been kept knocking about ever since, and had only once, for a few hours,
set my foot on English ground in the London docks, and how I would give
anything if I might just run up and see how the old lady and my aunt
were, and show them that I was alive.

"I think I may trust you, my lad," said the lieutenant, looking hard at
me.  "But who will be answerable for you?"

"Mr Merton, sir.  I know he will.  He has known me for some time," I
answered earnestly.  The lieutenant smiled; he was not accustomed to
hear a topman have a mister put to his name.  "I mean Joe Merton--beg
pardon, sir," said I, "he was my officer for some years."

"No offence, my man; I like to hear a person speak respectfully of those
above him," answered the lieutenant.  "He is your officer still, I
fancy.  Well, if you can get him to be answerable for you, you may go on
shore for ten hours.  I cannot give you longer leave than that."

"Thank you, sir; thank you," said I, and I hurried below to look for Mr
Merton.  I found him hard at work writing a letter to send on shore; but
he instantly jumped up, and accompanied me on deck to assure the
lieutenant that I would return.  So on shore I went with great joy; but
my knees almost trembled as I walked up the steep streets towards the
part of the town where my grandmother and aunt lived.  I had seen a good
many strange places since last I walked down those streets on my way to
join the _Kite_, and though, after thinking a moment, I easily found the
road without asking, the houses seemed changed somehow or other.  They
were lower and narrower and less fine-looking than I expected.  At last
I reached the quiet little house I knew so well.  By climbing up an iron
railing before it I could, when a boy, look into the parlour over the
blind.  There wag no necessity to climb now.  By holding on by the rail,
and stretching myself upon my toes, I could easily look in; I could not
help doing so before knocking.  There I saw an old lady with a neat
white cap and dressed in black, bending over her knitting.  Her back was
towards me; but somehow or other I did not think that it could be
Granny.  Her figure was too small and slight for that of Aunt Bretta.
Who could it be then?  My heart sank within me.  It was some minutes
before I could muster courage to knock.  At last I went up to the door.
A little girl opened it.  She was deaf and dumb, so she did not
understand what I said, and I could not understand her signs.

"Come in," said a voice from the parlour.  "Who is that? what does he
want?"

On this I pushed open the parlour door, and then I saw the old lady whom
I had observed through the window, seated in an arm-chair, with her
knitting in her hand.  I looked at her very hard.  "I am Willand, your
grandchild, Granny!"  I exclaimed, springing across the room.

"Young man, you have made a strange mistake," said the old lady, in a
voice which sent a chill through my heart.  "I never had a grandchild.
You take me for some one else."

"Beg pardon, marm," said I, trying to recover myself.  "I took you for
my grandmother, Mrs Wetherholm, who once lived here.  I have been at
sea for many years, and have never heard from her or my aunt.  Can you
tell me where they are gone?"

"Sit down, young man, and let me think.  I cannot answer all in a
hurry," said she, and I thought her tone was much pleasanter than at
first.  "Your name is Wetherholm, is it? and what ship did you go to sea
in?"  I told her.  "The _Kite_!  That is strange," said she.  "I should
know something about that vessel.  If Margaret were here, she would tell
me, but my memory is not as good as it was.  You want to know where your
relatives are.  Now I come to think of it, the old lady who lived in
this house before me had a daughter.  They came, I have heard, like my
poor niece's family, from Shetland.  Wetherholm was her name.  Then I am
sorry to say, young man, that she is dead."

"Dead!"  I exclaimed.  "Dear Granny dead!"  And my heart came all of a
sudden into my throat, and I fairly burst out crying as I should have
done when a boy.  For some time I could not stop myself; but I put my
face between my hands, and bent down as I sat, trying to prevent the
tears finding their way through my fingers.  I hadn't had such a cry
since I was a little boy, and then I felt very differently, I know.  The
old lady did not say a word, but let me have it out.

"That will do you good, young man," said she at length.  "I don't think
the worse of you for those tears, remember that."

I thanked her very much for her sympathy, and then asked her if she
could tell me anything about Aunt Bretta.

"I can't tell you myself," she answered; "but Miss Rundle, who lives
next door, knew her well; and I'll just send and ask her to step in, and
she will give you all the information you want."

The old lady summoned her little deaf and dumb girl, and signing to her,
in two minutes Miss Rundle made her appearance.  I remembered Miss
Rundle, and used to think her a very old woman then, but she did not
look a day older, but rather younger than when I went away.  I had no
little difficulty in persuading her who I was, and at first I thought
she seemed rather shocked at seeing a common sailor sitting down in her
friend's parlour.  However, at last I convinced her that I was no other
than the long-lost Willand Wetherholm.  She told me how my grandmother
had long mourned at my absence, still believing that I was alive and
would return, and always praying for my safety.  At length she
sickened--to the last expecting to see me.  She had died about two years
before; "and then," added my old acquaintance, "the good old lady sleeps
quietly in the churchyard hard by.  I often take a look at her
tombstone.  Her name is on it; you may see it there."

"That I will," said I.  "It will do my heart good to go and see dear
Granny's tombstone, as I cannot ever set eyes on her kind face again."
When I asked about Aunt Bretta, Miss Rundle bridled up a little, I
thought.

"Well, she was my friend," said she; "and she was a very good woman, and
I used to have a great respect for her.  Nobody made orange marmalade
better than she did, or raspberry jam; and as for knitting, there was no
one equalled her in all the country round.  I have several of the bits
of work she gave me, and I value them; but still I don't see what right
one's friends have to go and demean themselves."

Rather astonished at these remarks, I asked what had happened.

"Why, young man, she went and got married," said Miss Rundle, drawing
herself up.

"I don't see any great harm in her doing that," remarked the old lady.

"No, marm, not in marrying," answered Miss Rundle, somewhat sharply.
"It's a very lawful state to get into, I dare say; but I find fault with
her in respect to the person to whom she got married.  I don't want to
offend the feelings of this young man, her nephew; but what was he but a
common sailor, and more than that, he had a wooden leg."

"Aunt Bretta married to a common sailor with a wooden leg!" said I,
scarcely knowing what I was saying, yet not thinking that there was
anything very shocking in the matter.  "What sort of a man was he, marm?
and can you tell me where they are gone, and where I shall find them?  I
long to see Aunt Bretta again."

"I won't deny that he was a pretty good-looking man enough, and as we do
now and then exchange letters, I can tell you where she is to be found,"
answered Miss Rundle, softening down a little.  "They live at Southsea,
near Portsmouth.  Her husband was an old shipmate of one of her
brothers--your father, perhaps--and that is the way they became
acquainted.  His name is Kelson; you'll find them without difficulty."

"Aunt Bretta hasn't any family?" said I.  "I should like to have a dozen
little cousins to play with when I go to see her."

Miss Rundle looked very much shocked at the question, and said that as
she had not been married much more than a year, that wasn't very likely.

Well, though all Miss Rundle's talk had for the moment driven away my
sad thought, as soon as we were silent I felt very low-spirited and
melancholy.  I said that I would go up and have a walk through the
churchyard, and the old lady begged that I would come back and take tea
with her, when her niece would be there, who would be glad to hear me
talk about the sea.  Miss Rundle said that she had an engagement, and
was very sorry she could not stop; but the old lady signed to the little
girl to accompany me to point out my grandmother's tomb, remarking that
I might otherwise have some difficulty in finding it.

The child tripped away before me, and we soon reached the churchyard.
She pointed out an unpretending white little slab of stone in a quiet
corner, with a number of wild-flowers growing round it, and then,
looking up into my face with an earnest, commiserating look, she nodded
and ran off.  I walked up to the stone and read a short inscription--

                    "ELLA WETHERHOLM LIES BENEATH.
                 HOPE, IF ON ME YOUR HOPE IS PLACED."

I felt very sad and grave, but I had no longer an inclination to cry.
"She wrote that for herself," I thought.  "I'll try and hope as she
hoped, and perhaps her prayers may lighten, if they do not remove, the
heavy curse I brought down on my head."

With regard to the curse I fancied was following me, I now know that I
was entirely mistaken.  Our loving Father in Heaven does not curse His
creatures, though He permits for their benefit the consequences of sin
to fall on their heads.

I will not repeat all the ideas which passed across my mind.  I was not
nearly so sad as I might have expected.  I had met with sympathy and
kindness, though from a stranger, and that lightened the burden; and
then, though Miss Rundle was an odd creature, I could not help feeling
pleased at seeing her again, and hearing from her about my aunt.  I had
little fear about her marriage, and I had every expectation of finding
the sailor she had married, some fine old fellow well worthy of her,
even though he had been all his life before the mast.  While I was
sitting down beside my grandmother's grave, and thinking of the years
that were past, the days of my childhood, and the many strange things
which had since occurred to me, every now and then reading over the
words on the tombstone: "Hope!--if on me your hope is placed," and
trying to understand their full meaning, and very full I found it, I
happened to look up, and then I saw at a little distance a young woman
who seemed to have been passing along a path across the churchyard,
regarding me attentively.  She was dressed in black, which made her look
very fair and pale, and certainly I had never seen anybody else in all
my life who came up in appearance to what I should fancy an angel in
heaven would look like.  This is what I thought at the moment.  When she
saw that she was observed, she drew her shawl instinctively closer
around her, and moved on.



CHAPTER SIX.

FIRST INTRODUCTION TO MISS TROALL--HAPPY EVENING--RETURN ON BOARD--AN
EXPEDITION PLANNED--ATTACK ON PRIVATEERS--THE BOAT SINKS UNDER ME--MEET
AN OLD FRIEND--FOLLOW HIS ADVICE--JOIN AN AMERICAN VESSEL--CHASED
AGAIN--THE ACTION BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND FRENCH SHIPS--LAND OUR
PASSENGERS--LOSS OF OUR VESSEL--GET ON SHORE AT GUERNSEY--LA MOTTE AND
HIS FAMILY--SAIL FOR PORTSMOUTH.

And so at length the dream in which I had so long indulged was realised.
Once more I trod my native shores.  Once more I had visited the home of
my childhood.  What a blank I had found!  My lot has been that of
thousands of seamen--of thousands of poor wanderers over the face of the
globe, of every rank and in every clime.  It is the tale which many and
many a shipmate has told me in our midnight watch:--"I got back to the
place where I was born.  I thought to find it a home, but most of those
I left were dead! the rest removed.  All were gone.  The spot which once
I knew so well, knew me no more; so I fell in with an old messmate.  We
had a jovial spree on shore, and then, when all our cash was gone, we
went to sea again."  Such was not my lot, though.  Had I been inclined
for a spree, which I was not, I had not time to indulge in it.  I took a
walk through some of the beautiful green lanes about Plymouth, and
filled my hat full of wild-flowers, and then came back to the old lady's
house to take my tea, as I had promised.  I opened the door without
ceremony, for I forgot entirely that it was not my own home, and walked
into the parlour, expecting to find the old lady.  Instead of her, what
was my surprise to see seated at the tea-table the very young woman who
had been watching me in the churchyard.  I was regularly taken aback,
and stammered out--

"Beg pardon, Miss, I didn't know that there was anybody here but the old
lady who asked me to tea."

"You need not offer any excuse; my aunt told me you were coming," she
answered, in just such a voice as I should have expected to hear when
looking at her.

In a very few minutes she made me quite at home, and her aunt came in,
and we soon were talking away just as if we were old friends.  I will
not say that I forgot my grandmother and aunt, but I should be wrong if
I did not confess that my sorrow was very much soothed, and what is
more, that in some respects I felt happier than I had done for a very
long time.  Tea was made, and I began to talk to them about my
adventures and my shipwrecks.

"The most dreadful," said I, "was the first, when I and all my
companions nearly lost our lives aboard the _Kite_."

"The _Kite_!" exclaimed the young lady, "the _Kite_!  What do you know
about her?  Oh, in mercy tell me, young man!"

I saw she was very much agitated, but as I could not tell what part of
the narrative to pass over or to touch on slightly, I told her all about
the vessel from the time we left Plymouth till we got aboard the French
brig; especially I could not help speaking of Seton and his bravery, and
how he was wounded, and how he entreated me to bear his dying messages
to his family, and to the girl to whom he was to be married.  She seemed
almost breathless as I proceeded with my story, but every now and then
she would say, "Go on--in mercy go on."  So I continued with my story to
the end; "and," said I, "the first time I have freedom on shore, I will,
please heaven, go and fulfil my promise to poor Seton.  I remember the
young lady's name--Margaret Troall."

"You have fulfilled it already," said the young lady, with a faltering
voice, and bursting into tears; "I am Margaret Troall.  And oh, believe
me, I am most grateful to you."

I was astonished, I found that the rest of her family in England were
dead, and that she and her aunt had come to live at Plymouth just as my
aunt and her husband had left the place, and they had taken my
grandmother's house, which was then vacant.  At first, after all this,
the young lady was very sad, but by degrees she recovered her spirits,
and we talked on very pleasantly till Miss Rundle came in.

She wasn't half as stiff as at first, when she saw how well I was
received by Mrs Sandon (that was the name of the old lady) and her
niece, and she promised to write to my aunt to tell her that I was alive
and well, and that she might expect to see me some day.

"When you see her, as I hope you will soon," said she, "remember to tell
her that I am looking well, and that you knew me at once."

"That I will, Miss Rundle," said I; "I'll tell her that you look as
young and handsome as you ever did, and for that matter younger to my
eyes,--and that's the truth."

So it was, for a boy always thinks an oldish woman older than she really
is.  Miss Rundle drew herself up, and looked quite pleased, and smiled
and smirked, and I saw that my joking had gained me a place in her good
graces which I never enjoyed in my boyish days.  Well, I was very sorry
when the time came for me to get up and return on board the frigate.  I
put my chair back against the wall, and shook hands with all the ladies
round, and they charged me to come and see them without fail when I
returned to Plymouth.  Somehow or other I found myself shaking hands
twice with Miss Troall, and she again thanked me for bringing her the
message from him who was gone; and I heard Miss Rundle remark as I went
out, that I was a very well-mannered young man, though I was a common
sailor.

It was rather later than I intended.  I hurried down to the harbour,
jumped into a wherry, and promised the waterman half-a-guinea if I got
on board before dark.

"Why, lad, there's no great hurry, I should think," said he; "the
frigate won't sail without you."

"No; but a shipmate pledged his word for me that I would be back, and I
must not let him break it, you know."

"Well, we wasn't so particular in my time," said the old man.  "But as
your gold is as good as that of any other man, I'll do my best to put
you on board."

The wind was against us, so his mate and I took the oars while he
steered, and by dint of hard pulling we got on board just about ten
minutes before my time was up.  I told Mr Merton how it was I had run
the time so short, and gave him an account of all that had happened to
me.  He was very much pleased with me at finding that I had been so
anxious to come off in good time, and urged me on all occasions to make
every sacrifice, rather than break a pledge of any description.  Charley
and I were in the same watch, and he was very anxious to hear how I had
fared on shore.  Of course, he could not care about my grandmother's
death, but he was very much amused with my account of Miss Rundle, whom
he remembered well.

"I must go and pay her a visit the next time I can get on shore, and if
I can take her some wonderful present from the other side of the world,
I expect to cut you out in her good graces," he said, laughing.  I asked
him what he proposed taking.  "An alligator, or a shark, or a mermaid,
or an orang-outang, or something of that sort--stuffed, I mean," he
answered.

I remembered Charley's love of a practical joke in our younger days, and
I did not wish to interpose between him and the venerable spinster.  I
thought that he would not do anything really to annoy her.

Our captain came on board the next morning in high spirits.  He had got
leave to go to Teneriffe, in company with his Majesty's sloop-of-war
_Talbot_, to cut out the two West Indiamen taken by the French
privateer.  No sooner, however, did we get out of the Channel than we
met with strong westerly winds, which nearly blew us back into its chops
again.  However, not to be daunted, we kept hammering away at it, and
though we in the frigate made tolerably fine weather, those on board the
sloop had wet jackets for many a day.  We had been out about ten days
when two sails hove in sight, running with canvas set before the wind.
One we made out to be a large brigantine, the other was a ship,
evidently an English merchantman.  The ship stood on, and when we fired
a gun to make her heave-to, let all fly, while the brigantine hauled her
wind and tried to make off.  We sent a boat aboard the ship, and found
that she was an English merchantman belonging to Bristol, which had been
captured by the brigantine.  The privateer herself belonged to Saint
Malo, and was the very vessel which had taken the two West Indiamen we
were going to cut out.  The Frenchmen taken in the prize gave us some
useful information as to where the two West Indiamen were lying.

The _Talbot_ meantime was proceeding in chase of the privateer, and very
soon coming within shot, knocked away the head of her mainmast and
brought her to.  She was an important capture, for she had committed a
great deal of mischief, and, to our no small satisfaction, she had a
considerable sum of money on board her, which she had taken from various
captured vessels.  Prize crews being put on board the two vessels, we
proceeded on our course, thrashing away in the teeth of the
south-westerly gale.  However, at last, in about three weeks, we sighted
the island of Teneriffe, and hove-to that we might make arrangements for
the attack.  This was on the 8th of December.  At about four o'clock in
the afternoon, all the boats assembled round the frigate under the
command of our first lieutenant.  We had four boats, and there were
three belonging to the corvette.  I was in the boat with the first
lieutenant.  She was a very fine, fast boat, pulling six oars.  Merton,
who had volunteered, was in one of the other boats, under the command of
one of the master's mates of the frigate, and Charley Iffley was with
him.  When all was ready, the signal was given, and with three hearty
cheers we shoved off from the frigate's side.  We acted as a sort of
whipper-in to the other boats, and we kept pulling about among them to
keep them together, our lieutenant dropping a word to one and then to
another, just to make the people laugh and to keep them in good spirits.
It was some hours after dark, and nearly ten o'clock, as we approached
the harbour of Santa Cruz.  We then had all our oars muffled, and in
perfect silence we entered the harbour, all keeping close together.  As
we got well in we lay on our oars for a minute, to make sure which were
the two ships to be attacked.  We made them out through the darkness.
Four boats were to attack one ship, under the command of our lieutenant,
while the three others pulled away to the second ship.  The signal was
given, and dashing off at full speed, we were alongside in a moment.

The Frenchmen little expected us, but they flew to their arms and made a
stout resistance.  Some were cut down--others were hove overboard--the
cables were cut--our men flew aloft to loosen sails, and as quickly
almost as I take to tell the story the ship was under weigh and standing
out of the harbour.  The other three boats were not so fortunate.  The
noise we made in attacking the first ship, our shouts, and the cries and
curses of the enemy, aroused the people of the second ship, so that they
had time to man their guns, of which she carried ten, before the boats
got alongside.  Our commanding officer, seeing this, ordered one of the
midshipmen to take charge of his boat, in which I was, and of another in
which was Mr Merton, to go to the assistance of our shipmates.  With
hearty cheers, to show that aid was coming, we pulled away towards them,
but as we advanced we were received with a hot fire of musketry and
round shot.  The officer in the other boat, which was close to us, was
killed, but Merton sprang to the helm, and cheering on the men, they
pulled up towards the ship.  Just then a round shot struck our boat,
cutting her right in two, killing one man, and wounding two.  Instantly
she began to fill, and very soon we could not move her through the
water.  She was sinking under us.  The shot came round us thick as hail.
I could not see where the other boats were, or what had become of my
shipmates, but I caught a glimpse of the ship standing out of the
harbour.  I thought I heard Mr Merton's voice shouting out to the
people, and I was pretty certain he was doing something; but what with
the darkness, and the firing, and the confusion and noise, it was some
little time before I could decide in which way to strike out.  What
became of my companions in the boat I could not tell.  Looking up, I saw
a vessel not far off from me, and so I swam away with all my strength
towards her.  I got hold of her cable and rested myself, hoping to see
some of the boats, or perhaps the second ship; but when I looked found I
saw that there was little chance of our people taking her, for she
mounted, as we knew beforehand, ten guns, and that a strong crew had
been put on board her was evident from the hot fire she kept up.

The Spaniards had aroused at last, and the forts were blazing away at
the boats which were pulling with all their might down the harbour.  All
hope of regaining the frigate must therefore, I saw, be abandoned.  The
vessel I was hanging on to was a large schooner.  Her people were all on
deck, and, to my great satisfaction, I heard them talking English.  By
this I knew that she was an American, and I determined to trust to their
kindness.  I therefore hailed, "Schooner, ahoy!  Just heave me a rope,
will you, to save me from drowning."

"Well, I don't mind if I do," said a man, looking over the bows; and he
heaving me a rope's-end, I quickly hauled myself up on board.

I found myself among three or four of the schooner's crew.  "You must
come along aft to the mate," said one of them.

I accordingly accompanied them aft, where we found the mate, who asked
all about me, and I told him how we had come into the harbour to cut out
the two West Indiamen.

"Well, small blame to you, my man," said the mate.  "We don't wish you
ill, but we must see what the captain has to say to you."

The captain was on shore, but as soon as the firing was over he came on
board.  Meantime I watched as far as I could what was taking place, and
I had the satisfaction of seeing one of the ships get out of the
harbour, and I hoped the boats had reached her also.  The American crew
seemed inclined to treat me very civilly; and when the captain came off,
and I told him all that I had told the mate, "Well, my man," said he, "I
am sorry for it, but I am afraid that I must take you before the Spanish
governor to-morrow morning; because if I do not, I may get myself into
trouble.  However, go below, and get your wet clothes shifted.  You
shall have some food and a glass of grog, and we'll see about it in the
morning."

I went below.  I was soon rigged out in warm, dry things, had a jolly
hot supper, and I must say was never more kindly treated in my life.
When I turned in, I felt that I ought to be thankful that I had not been
killed like some of my shipmates.  But still I could not help thinking,
"The curse is still following me--the boat I was aboard was the only one
destroyed."

The next morning, when I went on deck, I saw one of the officers doing
duty.  I looked at him hard.  I was certain I knew his face.  I put out
my hand.  "La Motte," said I, "do you know me?"

"I should think I did indeed, Weatherhelm," he answered, laughing, and
shaking my fist warmly; "it is a good many years since we saw each
other."  I told him that the captain said he would have to take me to a
Spanish prison.  "Oh, that is all nonsense," he answered; "I'll soon
manage that.  All you have to do is to join this craft, and we can
protect you.  I'll just say that you are an old shipmate of mine, and
I'll soon make it all right."

Accordingly he took me to the captain, who was too glad to get an able
seaman on board his vessel, and he promised me if I would sign the
articles that I should have thirty dollars a month.  I had not much
difficulty in balancing this offer against the prospect of a Spanish
prison.  Now I honestly believe, that had she been a privateer, and I
should have had to fight against my own countrymen, nothing would have
tempted me to accept the offer.  However, I decided at once.  "I'll join
you," said I, "and am ready to sign the articles whenever you like."

That evening I found myself, like many other British seamen, converted
suddenly into an American.  La Motte told me that he had been wrecked on
the American coast, and having been kindly treated, he had joined one of
their merchantmen, when shortly afterwards he was made a mate.  The
schooner was called the _Skylark_, and was a remarkably fine and fast
vessel.  At that time, while all the rest of the world were at war, the
Americans remained neutral, and their merchantmen made a great deal of
money by becoming the carriers for all the belligerent parties.  This
was a wise policy in all respects, but still wiser would they have
proved themselves had they adhered to it.  While it brought wealth and
prosperity to their newly established republic, it laid the foundation
of that naval power which enabled them to contend for a time even with
England herself, and has since enabled them to take an important part in
the transactions of the world.  The schooner had been employed to bring
out a new governor for the islands from Cadiz, and she was waiting to
convey the former one back to Spain.  He, however, was not ready, and
the schooner was detained a long time.  Still I had no reason to
complain.  Teneriffe was a very pleasant place; the captain and first
mate of the schooner were very kind sort of men, and La Motte, for old
friendship's sake, did his best to make my life agreeable.  Perhaps, had
we been less idle, it would have been better for us all.  The great
difficulty the officers had, was to find work for the men.  We painted
and polished, and scrubbed and used up every particle of rope-yarn, and
turned in all the rigging afresh before Senor Don Longwhiskerandos
announced that he was ready to take his departure.

The voyage was not to be without danger, for there were English cruisers
watching all the Spanish and French ports; and though they could not
have touched us on the high seas, they would have made prize of us, had
they caught us trying to enter an enemy's port.  I never heard the real
name of the governor.  We called him Don Longwhiskerandos just for
shortness' sake, for it was fully three times as long as that.  He
looked a very important personage, and awfully fierce, and did little
else than smoke cigars, and let a black man attend on him as if he was a
mere baby.  We had fine weather, and the Don sat on the deck in great
state, when a sail was made out on our weather quarter.  As she drew
near there could be little doubt from her appearance that she was an
English frigate.  I borrowed a glass from La Motte.  I took a long,
steady look at her, and I felt certain that she was my old ship the
_Brilliant_.  Meantime our helm was put up, and off we went before the
wind to endeavour to increase our distance.  She made sail of course in
chase, and I began to consider whether it would not have been better to
have gone to a Spanish prison than be taken as a deserter, and cruelly
flogged, if not hung.  I pictured all sorts of dreadful things to
myself, and earnestly prayed that the schooner might escape the frigate.
If I was in a fright, Don Longwhiskerandos was in a still greater.  He
tore his hair and wrung his hands, and walked about the deck uttering
all sorts of extraordinary expressions, calling on I don't know how many
saints to come and help him--while blackie followed him with his
snuff-box and a handkerchief, and seemed trying to console him.  La
Motte, however, laughed at my apprehensions.  He said that of course it
was known that I had not willingly left the ship, and that I had a right
to save my life in the best way I could.  Still I was not satisfied.  On
came the frigate.  We pressed the schooner with all the canvas she could
carry.  She walked along at a great rate, and so did the frigate.  A
stern chase is a long chase, but I had very little expectation that we
should escape.  If we could keep ahead till night, then we might have a
better chance.

It was well on in the afternoon when we saw two sail ahead.  From the
whiteness of their canvas and the squareness of their yards, they were
evidently men-of-war.  If they should prove English cruisers, we were
fairly caught in a net, and Don Whiskerandos would have very little
chance of seeing his wife and family for a long time to come.  Still our
captain was a resolute man, and one who would never give in while a
prospect of escape remained.  The helm was put down, and we kept up five
or six points towards the French coast, thinking that we might keep
clear of them all till night set in, and might then escape in the
darkness.  The officers kept their glasses on the strangers.  One was a
frigate, the other a corvette.  They made sail when they saw us.
Evening was closing in.  "Hurra, my lads," shouted our captain, "up go
the French colours.  I thought by the cut of their canvas they were
Frenchmen, and our friends!"  How strangely those words sounded in my
ears!  To be glad to fall in with Frenchmen, and to call them our
friends!

Once more we altered our course.  In a short time the ships of war made
out the English frigate, and allowing us to go ahead, then clewed up
their topsails and waited for her.  She saw them, and nothing daunted,
under all sail stood on to close them before nightfall.  Now, for the
first time, I felt a little regret that I was not on board my own ship,
she looked so proud and bold going into action against so superior a
force.  Oh, how I wished that I could find myself on her deck alongside
my former shipmates, whom I pictured to myself standing at their guns,
bared to the waist, with handkerchiefs round their heads, looking stern
and grim as became men about to fight with heavy odds, yet every now and
then cutting a joke with each other in the exuberance of their spirits.
I thought if I could now but jump overboard with something to float me
till she came up, and then I would climb up her side, and say that I had
come to join them.  Still, when I thought again, I knew that she was not
likely, even if I was seen, to heave-to to pick me up, and I abandoned
the idea as too hazardous.  As the frigate got up to them, the two
French ships let fall their canvas, and began to manoeuvre to gain the
weather-gage; but she was too quick for them, and getting up to the
corvette first, gave her such a dose from her broadside as must have
made the Frenchmen dance to a double-quick tune.  Our captain's object
was to land his passengers, so of course he could not stop to see the
result of the action.  As we ran out of sight, all three ships were
hotly engaged.  "Well, if there's one man on board who will do his duty,
and show what real Englishmen are made of, its Joe Merton," I said to
myself.

For some time after nightfall I could hear the sound of their guns borne
over the calm waters, and then all was silent, and we continued our
course to the French coast.  Two days after this we were again chased by
an English sloop of war; but the _Skylark_ showed a faster pair of heels
than she did, and we ran her out of sight.  At length, after being
chased away from various ports, we entered the mouth of the Gironde
river in France, which runs down from Bordeaux.  We were some days
getting up to Bordeaux, where we landed Don Longwhiskerandos and his
black slave and all his property, and hoped to get a return cargo.  But
there were no freights to be had; so, as the Don described the schooner
as being a very fast craft, the French Government offered a large sum
for her, which our captain was too glad to accept.  The mates and crew
accordingly received their wages, and we were all turned adrift.  Now I
found that there was a great chance of my being in a much worse
condition than ever.  Of course I hailed as an American, and if the
police had found me on shore without a ship, I should have been seized
and sent to serve on board a French man-of-war.  On every account I must
avoid that, I felt.  In the first place, I did not wish to serve with
Frenchmen; and in the second, had any ship I might have been in been
captured, I should have been looked upon as a deserter and a traitor,
and very likely shot.

La Motte, as an English subject, was in the same condition, except that
he had never served on board a man-of-war.  Accordingly he and I talked
the matter over before we left the schooner, and agreed that it would
never do to trust ourselves on shore.  We saw ahead of us a ship under
Hamburguese colours, taking in a cargo of wine for Hamburg, which was a
free port.  When, therefore, we left the schooner, we pulled alongside,
and asked if she wanted hands.  The captain said yes; he would ship us
at once.  He spoke very good English, and the mate we had reason to
suspect was an Englishman, as were several of the crew.  So much the
better, we thought.  I at all events was very glad to get to sea.  Four
or five days afterwards, just as we got into the English Channel, the
captain called us aft, and told us that, instead of going to Hamburg, he
expected to proceed to London; but that he had received directions to
put into the Island of Guernsey first to wait for orders.  I was very
glad to hear this news, for I thought there was a chance of my seeing
old England again sooner than I had expected.

"Yes, that may be very true," observed La Motte.  "But how will you see
it?  The first night you put your foot on shore you will be pressed to a
certainty, and quickly find yourself on board a man-of-war, and a slave
as before."

"No, not a slave," said I indignantly.  "I'd rather go and serve
willingly than be pressed, that's the truth; but no one has a right to
call British men-of-war's men slaves.  They may be pretty hardly tasked
sometimes; but they get pay and prize-money and liberty, and if they did
but know how to take care of their money, and would but conduct
themselves like rational beings, the good men would have no reason to
complain."  The truth was, that La Motte had got the notion entertained
by most merchant seamen, and encouraged by shipowners as well as masters
and mates, that men-of-war were all alike, little better than hells
afloat; that all naval officers were tyrants, and all men-of-war's men
miserable, spiritless slaves.  Why, even in those times they were
generally better treated than merchant seamen, and now the lot of the
two cannot be compared.  There's no class of men better cared for,
better fed, better clothed, and more justly treated, than the British
man-of-war's man.  I don't want to cry down the merchant service, or
owners or officers of merchant ships, but this I will say, that the most
comfortable, happy merchantmen I have seen have been those commanded by
naval officers.

We were within half-a-day's sail of Guernsey, and were expecting to get
in there next morning, when a heavy gale sprang up from the north-west,
and before we could take the canvas off the ship--for we were very
short-handed--every yard of it was blown out of the bolt-ropes.  We were
in a bad way, for we were already too much to the southward.  Still our
captain hoped, if we could bend fresh sails, to weather the islands; but
all that nook of the coast is full of rocks and dangers, and tides
setting here and there, so that it is difficult to tell where a ship
will be drifted to.  Twice we tried to bend fresh sails; but each time
they were blown away, before we could hoist them to the yards.  Darkness
came on.  Two of our shipmates were hove off from the lee yard-arm, and
their despairing shrieks reached our ears as they drifted away, a
warning to us of what might be our fate.

"We have some Jonah on board," I heard the first mate observe to the
second.  He was a rough sailor, such as are not often met with
now-a-days, though then they were common.  "If we could find him, we
would heave him overboard."

I remembered too well what I had often thought about myself, and felt
thankful that I had kept my own counsel since I was on board, and had
not told my story.  The night came on very dark.  I do not believe
anybody in the ship knew exactly where we were.  Several hours of deep
anxiety passed away.  The ship began to labour dreadfully.  All we could
hope was that, when daylight returned, we might find ourselves clear to
the northward of all dangers, and then with tolerable sea-room we might
expect to make sail so as to carry the ship into an English port.  Vain
were our hopes.  Suddenly there was a cry, "Breakers ahead! breakers on
the lee beam!"  The ship struck, again and again, with terrific
violence.  The masts went by the board; then she seemed to be lifted
over the ledge, and we found her floating in smoother water.  We hoped
that we were in some bay where we could bring up and ride out the gale;
but it was too dark for us to distinguish our position.  The captain had
just given the order to let go an anchor, when the fearful cry was
uttered, "The ship is sinking! the ship is sinking!"

"Get the boats out, my men; no hurry, now!" cried the captain; but it
was not quite so easy to obey the order or to follow the advice.  The
long-boat was stove in; but we had a gig and a whale-boat hanging to the
ship's quarters.  We ran to the falls.  La Motte and I, with some
others, leaped into the whale-boat just as the ship sank beneath our
feet.  We shouted out to the rest of our shipmates that we would try to
pick them up, but we could see no one.  Though I said the sea was calmer
than on the other side of the reef, still we had no little difficulty in
keeping the boat from swamping.  We could not tell either in which
direction to pull.  All we could do, therefore, was to keep the boat's
head to the sea, and wait till daylight, which we knew was not far off.
At length it came, as it always comes at last to the weary and the
watchful, if they will but patiently wait for it.  As the dawn gradually
broke we found that we had been drifted into a bay, and that the shore
was not four hundred fathoms from us.  There was a good deal of surf
breaking on it, so that it was necessary to use caution in landing.
Waiting out opportunity, we gave way and drove the boat high up on the
beach.  A sad sight met our view; the sand on each side was covered with
portions of the wreck and casks of wine, many of them stove in; but
sadder far it was to see the bodies of our late shipmates hove up dead
on the beach, while one or two were still washing to and fro in the
surf, as if the sea were yet loth to give up its dead.  Perhaps there is
no more melancholy sight than that for a seaman to behold.  We examined
the bodies; they were all dead; but as we looked about we came upon some
marks of feet in the sand, leading up the beach, and this gave us hopes
that some of our companions had escaped.  I saw La Motte looking
inquiringly about him.  I asked him if he knew where we were.

"Yes, that I do," he answered.  "At no great distance from my home.
Come along with me, Weatherhelm.  My family will be glad to welcome an
old shipmate."

Just as the sun got up we saw several people approaching, and were truly
glad to find among them our captain and three of the crew.  They took
charge of the men who had been saved with us, while I set off with La
Motte to his home.  It was a large farm-house standing by itself.  He
looked round the building, and in at one or two of the windows, but
could not make up his mind how to announce himself.  "I am afraid of
giving some of them a fright if I were to appear too suddenly," he said.
At last he told me that I must go in and tell them that I was a
shipmate of his, and that he would be there soon.  So I opened the door,
and an old lady came out and spoke to me, but I could not understand a
word she said, and then an old gentleman made his appearance, with white
hair, with a long red waistcoat and greatcoat, but he could not help on
the conversation.  At last they went to the back of the house, and
called "Janette!  Janette!" and a young girl, with her petticoats tucked
up, came tripping in, as if she had just been milking the cows, and she
asked me, in broken English, what I wanted; and when I replied that I
knew Jacob La Motte, and was a shipmate of his, they seemed very much
interested, and not a little agitated.  When I saw this, I thought the
sooner I told them that he was all right and well the better, and then,
to their astonishment, I ran out of the house and called him, and he
soon had both them and several other young boys and girls all hanging
round his neck, and kissing him and asking him all sorts of questions.
I envied him--I could not help it.  I had no father or mother, or
brothers or sisters, to care for me, so even at that moment I felt very
desolate and forlorn.  However, they soon recollected me, and then they
all did their best to make me happy and comfortable.

The days passed very quickly away.  I never had been so happy and merry
in my life.  Though the old people could not speak English, they
understood it a little, and I soon picked up French enough to make out
what I wanted to say; and then all the younger people could talk
English, though among themselves they always spoke French.  As we lived
on so quietly and peaceably in that pretty farm-house, no one would have
supposed that all the horrors of war were being enacted in the
surrounding seas.  It might have been supposed that neither of us would
ever have wished to leave those quiet scenes, but after a time La Motte
began to grow fidgety, and said he must think of getting employment.  At
last away he went to Peter-le-port, the only town in the island.  He was
away three or four days, and when he came back he told me that he had
taken service on board a privateer, one of the fastest craft out of the
island.  "She is called the _Hirondelle_," he said.  "You never set eyes
on a more beautiful craft.  She is lugger-rigged, mounts sixteen guns,
and will carry a hundred and twenty hands, all told, fore and aft.
There is nothing will look up to her.  I could not resist the temptation
of joining her.  Her crew will have six months' protection from the
pressgang.  That alone is worth something.  Now is your opportunity,
Will, for making your fortune.  Don't throw it away.  By the time you
are paid off you'll have your pockets full of money, and then come and
settle down here.  That is what I intend to do."

His reasonings and arguments seemed irresistible.  Still I held off.  I
was balancing between my wish to go and see Aunt Bretta at Southsea and
the old lady and her niece at Plymouth, and trying to find my way back
to my ship.  I had an idea that the latter was the right thing to do.
Still, unhappily, I had not always been accustomed to do what was right,
and now found it easy to do what was wrong.  I told him, in reply, what
I wished to do, and what I thought I ought to do; but he laughed at all
my reasonings, and before the day was over I had consented to go and
enter on board the lugger.  In those days not many people thought there
was any harm in privateering.  Many do not think so now.  Still there
were some who looked upon it as little better than a sort of lawful
piracy, and made but little scruple in running down an enemy's
privateer.

I found the _Hirondelle_ everything La Motte had described her.  We had
not been out a week before we had taken a couple of prizes, and we
recaptured a number of English vessels which had been taken by the enemy
and were on their way into French ports.  As we were low in the water
and had short stumps for masts, by lowering our sails we could lie
concealed till we could make out what sort of craft were heaving in
sight.  We therefore ran but little risk of catching a Tartar, as
privateers very often do.

I remained in the privateer upwards of a year and a half, and at last
peace came, and the crew were paid off, and she was laid up.  Though I
had spent my money pretty freely when I was on shore, still I found
that, what with wages and prize-money, I had fully four hundred pounds
in my pocket.  This I might well look on as a handsome fortune to begin
life with on shore, and carefully managed it was enough to set a young
man up in business.  I have known numbers of seamen go on shore with far
larger sums, and spend the whole in the course of a few days, but then
they have never--poor ignorant fellows!--read the book of Solomon, or,
if they have, profited by the wise advice contained in it.  I spent a
few days with the La Motte family, but the thoughts of Aunt Bretta, and
still more, perhaps, that quiet evening spent at Plymouth, were
constantly coming into my mind; and wishing him and them good-bye, I
shipped myself and my fortune aboard a cutter bound for Portsmouth.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

ENCOUNTER MY NEW UNCLE--AUNT BRETTA'S HOME--HAPPY MEETING--SETTLE AT
HOME--A DESCRIPTION OF MY UNCLE--OLD JERRY VINCENT--HIS STORIES--THE
SMOKE-WORMS, AND HIS CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

On reaching Portsmouth, I buttoned my money tight up in my pockets, for,
thought I, "I'll have no land-sharks taking it from me in the way many
poor fellows have lost all the profits of their toils."  I had no
difficulty in finding my way through the gate under the ramparts to
Southsea Common, and then I turned to the left till I reached a number
of small, neat little houses.  The fine big mansions and great hotels
which stand there now were not built in those days.  I walked up and
down for some time trying to discover the house my aunt lived in from
what Miss Rundle had told me, but I could not make up my mind to knock
at any door by chance to inquire.  At last I saw a stout, fine
sailor-like looking man come stumbling along the road on a wooden leg.
I looked at his face.  He had a round, good-natured countenance,
somewhat weather-beaten, with kind-looking eyes, and a firm mouth, full
of fine white teeth.

"You're the man who will give me a civil answer at all events, and maybe
help me to find my aunt, so I'll just speak to you," I thought to
myself.  "Please, sir," said I, stepping up to him, "can you tell me if
a young woman called Bretta Wetherholm lives any way handy here?"  He
looked at me very hard as I spoke, with some surprise in his
countenance.  Then I recollected myself; "that was her name, I mean,
sir," said I; "it's now Mrs Kelson, I am told.  Her husband is Tom
Kelson.  Yes, that's his name."

"I think I can show you the house, young man," said the stranger,
casting his eye all over me.  "You are a stranger here."

"Yes, sir," said I, "this is the first time I have been at Portsmouth.
I've been knocking about at sea all my life.  There are very few days in
which I have set foot in England since I was a little boy."

"Just paid off from a ship, I suppose."

"Yes, sir," said I, "a few days ago."

"Ah, I see, come round from Plymouth," he remarked, stumping on at a
pace which kept me at a quick walk.

I always addressed him as sir, for I thought very likely he was a
post-captain, or perhaps an admiral.  I did not like, therefore, to say
that I had just come from Guernsey, as he would at once have guessed
that I had been serving on board a privateer, and I knew that many
officers did not at all like the calling.  I therefore said, "I beg
pardon, sir, but I fear that I am taking you out of your way."

"Not in the least, young man," he answered in a good-natured tone.
"Your way is my way."

"Well, you are indeed a very civil, kind gentleman," I thought.  Then
all of a sudden I remembered the land-sharks I had been warned against,
but when I looked in his face I felt certain that he was not one of
them.

"And so you have heard speak of Tom Kelson," said he, looking at me.

"Not much, sir," I answered.  "There's a lady down at Plymouth whom I
know, Miss Rundle, who just spoke about him, and told me about my aunt's
marriage, and how she didn't quite think--"

"Oh, never mind what Miss Molly Rundle thought," said he, laughing, as
he pushed open the door of a house and walked in.  "You'll find Mrs
Kelson in there," and he pointed to a parlour on one side of the
passage.  "Here, Bretta, come down; here's a young man come to see you.
Who he is I don't know.  He's a friend of Molly Rundle's, that is all I
can make out," I heard my new friend hail at the foot of the stairs.

I found myself in a very pretty, neat little sitting-room, with the
picture of a ship over the mantelpiece, and lumps of coral and large
shells, and shell flowers, on it, and bows and arrows, and spears and
models of eastern craft, and canoes from the Pacific, and some stuffed
birds and snakes, and, indeed, all sorts of curious things arranged in
brackets on the walls, or nailed up against them, or filling the shelves
of cabinets.  Indeed, the room was a perfect museum, only much better
arranged than museums generally are.  I had some little time to look
about me.  "Well, Aunt Bretta is comfortably housed at all events," I
thought to myself.

At last the door opened, and a portly fair dame, with fair hair and a
pleasant smile on her countenance, entered the room.  "Who are you
inquiring for, young man?" said she, dropping a sort of curtsey.

I looked at her very hard without answering.  "Yes, it must be Aunt
Bretta," I thought.  "But if it is her, she is a good deal changed.  And
yet I don't know.  Those kind eyes and that smile are just the same.
Oh, yes, it is her."

"Aunt Bretta," I exclaimed, running towards her; "don't you know me?
I'm Willand Wetherholm, your nephew!"

"You my nephew!  I heard that without doubt he was dead.  Yet let me
look at you, boy!" she exclaimed, taking both my hands and fixing her
eyes on my countenance.  "Yes, you are Willand--you are my own dear
boy--welcome, welcome back to life, and to one who loved you as her own
son!"  And she flung her arms round my neck and burst into tears.  "Oh,
Willand, had but dear mother been alive, how it would have done her
heart good to see you!  She never ceased talking of you, and always felt
sure that you would come back when you could."

I will not describe the scene any farther.  I pretty nearly cried too--
indeed I am not certain that I did not, but they were tears of
happiness, and not yet entirely of happiness.  There was sorrow for one
I had lost--regret for my own obstinacy and thoughtlessness, and many
other emotions mingled with the satisfaction of finding myself under the
roof of one in whom I had the most perfect confidence, who I knew loved
me sincerely.  I think I have said it before, but if not, I now urge
those who are blessed with real friends, to prize the lore their hearts
bestow as a jewel above price, which wealth cannot purchase, and which,
let them wander the world round, they may never find again.

After my aunt and I had sat a little time, in came the fine old
gentleman I had met.  I now guessed who he must be.  He very quickly
understood who I was.  "You are not the first seaman I have known who
has been lost for years, and has at last turned up again when he was
least expected," said he; "but welcome, Willand, I'm very glad to see
you, and to own you for my nephew."  He very soon gave evidence of the
sincerity of his words, for a kinder, better-hearted man I never met,
and I felt thankful that Aunt Bretta had married a man so well worthy of
her.

My uncle accompanied me back to the inn where I had left my chest and
bag, and we got a porter to carry them to his house; and now, for the
first time since I went to sea, I found myself settled with my relations
quietly on shore.  I had been very happy with the La Mottes, but still
they were strangers.  My kind aunt never seemed tired of trying to find
out what would please me.  She had done something to spoil me as a boy--
it appeared as if there was a great probability of her spoiling me as a
man.  We had much to talk about.  I told her of my falling in with the
old lady at Plymouth, and of my visit to my grandmother's tomb.  I found
that Miss Rundle had never written to her, or if she had written, the
letter had not reached her.

"I suspect that she was afraid I might answer her letter, and she did
not like the idea of having to pay the return postage.  It shows that
she does not consider my friendship worth ninepence."

Still I was surprised that Miss Rundle had not written, as she had so
positively promised to do.  I could not exactly make it out.  I found
that my aunt knew nothing of old Mrs Sandon and her niece.  She was
very much interested with my description of the young lady.  "So,
Willand," said she, "I hope you will go back to Plymouth and find her
out again.  There are very many good girls in the world, but, like sweet
violets, they often bloom unseen, and it is not so easy to find them.
From what you tell me of her, and I can bring her clearly before my
mind's eye, she is just the sort of person to make a man a good wife,
and I hope that you may be able to win her."  Now, when my aunt spoke
thus, I laughed, and said that I had not thought of settling, and that
it was not likely I should win a young lady like her, who was a great
deal too good to be the wife of a foremast man like me, and anything
else I never expected to be.

"You need not say that, Willand," replied Aunt Bretta.  "I have
something to say to you on that subject.  You must know, Willand, that
your father left some money to your grandmother for her life, and
afterwards it was to go to you; but when you were supposed to be dead I
took possession of it.  Now, my dear boy, that you have come back, your
uncle and I have been preparing to give it up to you.  It is yours by
every law of right, so do not say a word about it.  We can manage very
well without it."

"Indeed, I will not deprive you of a farthing of it, dear aunt!"  I
exclaimed.  "I would rather go to sea for a dozen years longer and never
come back again, than take the bread out of your mouths.  I won't take
it, so don't be pressing it on me.  I have got plenty without it.
There, take care of that."  And I gave her the cash I had been carrying
in my pocket.  "You can make me your heir, if you like, and I hope it
will be a very long time before I come into my fortune."

My uncle soon after came in, and we had a long talk over the matter.  I
succeeded at last in making them keep the money.  The fact was, I knew
myself better than they knew me, and I felt pretty certain that some day
or other I might spend it all, and nobody would be the better for it.
This affair settled, we lived together still more pleasantly than ever,
for they had it off their minds, and I felt that I had done what was
right.  I found that my uncle had once been what Miss Rundle called a
common sailor--that is to say, he had been mate of a merchantman, and
had been pressed on board a man-of-war, where he had obtained a warrant
as boatswain.  While acting as such, he had lost his leg.  After he had
recovered he got command of a large merchantman, for he was a good
navigator as well as a first-rate seaman.  He was not very refined,
according to some people's notions, I dare say, nor were some of his
acquaintance.  He valued them, as he did all things, for their sterling
qualities, and cared very little for their outside.  A good many of his
old friends and shipmates used to look in on him, and I was much struck
by the kind and hospitable way in which my aunt always received them.
"They are my husband's friends, and I inquire no further," she used to
say.  "I know that he will never ask anybody I shall not be glad to
receive."

Scarcely an evening passed without our having one or more guests, and
this made it very pleasant.  Just as we were sitting down to tea one
evening, a ring was heard, and on my uncle's opening the door (I found
that he always did that sort of work), I heard him exclaim, "Come in,
Jerry! come in, old boy!  There is only my nephew here, and he won't be
sorry to hear you talk, I'm sure."  There was a shuffling and cleaning
of shoes, and then my uncle ushered in as odd a looking old man as I
ever saw.  He was of diminutive figure, very wizened and wiry, with long
grizzly hair and small bright eyes, with a wonderfully roguish
expression in them.

"This is Jerry Vincent, an old shipmate of mine, nephew," observed my
uncle, as he placed a chair for the old man.  "He can tell you more
curious things than most people when he has a mind.  Can you not,
Jerry?"

Our guest nodded, and his eyes twinkled curiously.

"Sarvant, missus; sarvant, all," said he, pulling a lock of his hair and
putting his tarpaulin hat under the seat which had been offered him.
"Why, old ship, I've seen some rum things in the course of my life, and
I don't forget them, like some does," he remarked, smoothing down his
hair with his long, rough, bony hand.

I told him that I should much like to hear some of his adventures, but
he did not become loquacious till my aunt had served him out three or
four cups of tea, into which she poured, as if it was a usual thing, a
few drops of cordial, a proceeding which always made the old man's eyes
twinkle cheerily.  During the course of conversation, I found that Jerry
Vincent was not only peculiar in his appearance but in his habits also.
He never by any chance, from choice, slept in a bed.  When at sea, a
caulk on a locker was the only rest he took, and most of his nights, in
summer, were passed under the thwarts of his boat.  My uncle told a
story of him, to the effect that one cold winter's night he had gone to
sleep under his boat, which had been hauled up and turned over on the
beach, and that when he awoke in the morning his dog had been frozen to
death, while he was only a little stiff in the neck.  At all events, it
was evident that he was a very hardy old man.

"There are many like to hear my yarns," he observed.  "Now, for example,
there was a gentleman down here from Lunnon, and he used to go out in my
boat off to Spithead, and sometimes across to the Wight.  One day I
thought I would try one of my yarns on him, so I spun it off the reel.
He said, when I had finished, that it was a very good one, though it was
very short, and when he stepped out of the boat he tipped me
half-a-crown.  The next day I took him out again, and spun him another
yarn rather tougher than the first, and he gave me three shillings.  Ho,
ho, thought I to myself.  If you pay according to the toughness of a
yarn, I'll give you something worth your money.  Well, the third day
down he came, and said he wanted to go across to Cowes, if the tide
would suit, and I told him it would; and now, I thought, here's a fine
time for spinning a long yarn.  I'll give you a tough one, and no
mistake.  Well, I spun away, and my eye if it didn't beat the two others
hollow!  We had a pretty quick run to the Wight and back, and just
before I landed him, `I hope you liked the story, sir,' says I.  `Very
much,' says he.  `And by the by, I should pay you for it.  Here's a
couple of shillings.'  I looked at the coin with disdain.  `Pardon,
sir,' says I; `that story's worth five shillings if it's worth a penny,
and I can take nothing less.'

"`Are you in earnest, my man?' says he.  `Yes, sir,' says I; `the story,
if written down, would be worth ten times the money.'

"`Then you are an extortionate old scoundrel, without a scrap of a
conscience,' says he.  `Hard words, sir,' says I; `but it can't be
helped.  We poor fellows must submit to great people.'  But all I could
say wouldn't do.  He vowed that he would never give me anything again,
and what is more, he never did, and never again would take my boat."

"Served you right too, old ship," said my uncle.  "You learned by that,
I hope, that moderation is the best policy.  But heave ahead.  You are
not to charge us at the rate of a shilling a fathom for your yarns,
remember that."

Old Jerry cocked his eye with a knowing wink, and began.  "Well then,
one morning after I had been sleeping up at my uncle's, for some reason
or other--it might have been that I'd had a drop too much the night
afore, but I can't say, as it's some time ago--I don't score those
things down in my log, d'ye see--I was going down the street with my
boat-hook in my hand--I know that I had the boat-hook because I took it
up with me.  It was rather dusky, so to speak, because the sun wasn't
up, nor would be for some hours to come, when, as I was passing a house
with a deep porch before the door, what should I see but a big pair of
fiery eyes glaring out at me like hot coals from a grate in a dark room.
Never in all my life did I see such fierce red sparklers, but I never
was a man to be daunted at anything, not I, so I gripped my boat-hook
firmly in both hands and walked towards it.  I wasn't given to fancy
things, and I had never seen any imps of Satan, or Satan himself, and
never wished to see them, so I thought this might be a dog or a cat,
maybe, troubled with sore eyes, which made them look red.  On I marched,
therefore, as steady as a judge or a grenadier on parade, when, just as
I got near the door, a dark shaggy form rose up right before me, the
eyes glowing redder and hotter than ever.  It grew, and it grew, and
grew, every moment getting taller and bigger, till it reached right up
to the top of the house.  I kept looking at it, thinking when it would
have done growing; but as for running away, even if I had had any fancy
for running, I knew that it would have come after me and would overhaul
and gobble me up, in a quarter less no time, so I stood where I was,
considering what would happen next.  At last, thinks I to myself, you
are not going to look at me in that way whatever you are; so, shutting
my eyes, for I couldn't for the life of me bear its glare any longer, I
made a desperate dash at it with my boat-hook.  You should have heard
the hullabaloo there was, and I found the boat-hook dragged right out of
my hands.  I opened my eyes just in time to see the monster, big as he
was, bolt right through the door, carrying my boat-hook with him.  I
rushed after him to try and get it back, for it was a new ash one I had
bought but a few days before, and I did not want to lose it, but I only
knocked my head a hard rap against the door, and though I looked about
everywhere I never could find it from that day to this; and that, mates,
mind you, is the circumstantial and voracious way Jerry Vincent lost his
boat-hook."  And the old man gave one of his comical and expressive
winks, and a pull at the glass of swisell which my uncle had placed by
his side.

"Don't you all acknowledge that that story was well worth half-a-crown
to a Lonnoner, seeing as how it was quite new, and he could never have
heard it afore?  Of course you'll all agree with me, now, to my mind,
those Lonnoners are generally such know-nothing sort of chaps, though
they think themselves so wise that they never will believe what you tell
'em.  They are just like the old lady whose nevy had just come from sea.
When he told her that he'd seen flying-fish scores of times, she said
he was trying to hoax her, and wouldn't listen to him, but when he said
he'd been up the Red Sea, and that the water there was the colour of a
soldier's coat, she said that she had no doubt about that, and that she
was glad to listen to him when he spoke the truth.  But," continued
Jerry, who had now got into his talkative vein, "what I have been
telling you is as nothing to what happened to me soon after then.  I had
been ill for some time, and could not tell what was the matter with me,
when I happened one day to go to Portsdown fair.  I thought the walk
would do me good, and I wanted to see some of the fun going on.  Well,
after I had been to see the beasts and the raree shows, and the
tumblers, and theatres, and conjurers, and taken a turn in a roundabout,
on a wooden horse, which I found more easy to ride than a real one,
because, do ye see, the wooden one never kicks, while, to speak the
truth, whenever I've got on a regular-built animal, he to a certainty
has shied up his stern and sent me over his bows, sometimes right into a
hedge, or a ditch, or a pond, or through a window, into a shop, or
parlour, I happened to catch sight of a man standing at the end of an
outlandish sort of a cart or a van, painted all over with red and
yellow, and blue and gold, with a sort of a Chinaman's temple at one end
of it.

"`Now, ladies and gentlemen,' says he, for he was a very polite sort of
a chap, `here's the universal 'lixier of life; it cures all complaints,
and takes a man, if he has a mind to it and has proper faith in what it
will do for him, right clear away to the end of the world.  It's as
infallible as the Pope of Rome and all his cardinals, and is patronised
by all the first haristocracy and clergy in the country.  Only one
shilling a bottle, ladies and gentlemen; taken how you will and when you
will--it's all the same--in a glass of grog, a bowl of punch, or a basin
of pap; for old or young, for boys or girls, it will cure them all, and
they will never feel ill again as long as they continue to take it.
Take enough of it, and take it long enough, and you will see the wonders
it will work.'

"On hearing all this, I asked of those who were looking on, who the chap
was, and they told me he was the celebrated Doctor Gulliman, who was
going to send all the old regular practitioners to the right about, and
it was wonderful what good he did, and how much more he would do if
people would but trust him.  I afterwards found out that the fellow who
told me this was a friend of the doctor's, and stood there on purpose to
say a good word in his favour, though he pretended to have nothing at
all to do with him.

"Well, thinks I to myself, maybe he'll know how to cure me; so I made
bold and went up to him.

"When he saw me he stooped down from his carriage, and says he, `Well,
my good fellow, what's the matter with you?  But never mind; whatever it
is I'll cure you.  Trust Doctor Gulliman for that.'

"I didn't much fancy having to tell my complaint among so many hearers.
You see my modesty stood in my way.

"`Come, come, tell me all about it, my good man,' says he in an
encouraging tone.

"So I put my hand on my bread-basket, and told him that I was troubled
with pains in them parts, and that for the life of me I couldn't get
well, though there was seldom a night I didn't take half-a-dozen
tumblers of grog to set me to rights.

"`Put out your tongue, my man,' says he.

"I stuck it out so that from where he stood he could look right down my
throat.

"`Oh, oh! my dear man, I guessed what it was that ails you.  But never
fear, I'll cure you in a jiffy.  You're troubled with smoke-worms.
That's it.  And they are very dangerous things if you don't get rid of
them, mind that.  You see this invaluable stuff which I hold in my hand.
If you want to get cured you must take six bottles of it.  I don't say
but that it would be safer for you if you took twelve.  But do as you
like about that.  Mix each of them in a stiff glass of grog.  You may
take three a day if you like, and then come back to me for more.  At the
end of three days--trust the word of an honest man and a true friend of
the whole human race--you will be clear of them all, and every complaint
you have at the same time.'

"Well," thinks I to myself, "`in for a penny, in for a pound,' though
there is a difference between the shilling my friend in the crowd said I
should have to pay and the twelve shillings the doctor demands.  But
then, to be sure, the stuff can't be unpleasant, and the grog, at all
events, is no bad thing.  `Well, doctor,' says I, `I'll take the twelve
bottles, but I should like to know what the stuff you give me is made
of?'

"`What!' he sings out, drawing himself up and looking as proud as a
prince.  `What!  Do you just imagine for one quarter of a moment that I
would tell you, or any man like you, alive on this terrestrial sphere,
what my infallible Obfucastementi-scoposis is composed of?  No; not to
satisfy the gaping curiosity of twenty such wretched creatures as you
are would I reveal that golden, all-important, mysterious secret.  If
you are not content, go!  Give me back my invaluable 'lixier and cut.'

"`Yes, doctor,' says I, going to give him the twelve bottles, `and just
do you in return hand me out my twelve shillings.'

"`Your twelve shillings! you audacious rascal.  Here's a man asks me for
twelve shillings in exchange for my 'lixier, which is worth twelve
pounds at least.  Ladies and gentlemen, he ain't fit to be among such as
you.  Hoot him--hoot him--hiss him--kick him out from among you.'

"On this my friend in the crowd, who advised me to buy the stuff, began
to hoot and to hiss and to shove me about, and others followed his
example, till I saw that there was no use of attempting to hold my own,
and I wasn't sorry to be able to get clear of them, and to bolt with a
whole skin on my body, though two of the bottles were broken in the row.

"I got home at last, not over well pleased with Doctor Gulliman and the
way I had been treated.  However, as I had paid for my whistle, I
thought I might as well try if the stuff would do me any good.  As soon
as I got into Portsmouth I bought a bottle of old rum; for, thinks I to
myself, if I am to take the stuff, the sooner I begin the better.

"When I reached my boat, I recollected that I was engaged to go out to
Spithead to bring on shore an officer from one of the ships lying there,
so I stowed away a glass and a can of water, not forgetting the rum and
'lixier, and shoved off.  I just paddled down the harbour, for I was in
no hurry, and the ebb was making strong.  At last says I to myself, just
as I got off the kickers, `I'll just take a bottle of the 'lixier and
see how I feel after it.'  So I got a bottle, and poured it out, and put
in some old rum, just on the top of it, to take the taste away, and then
I took the can of water, but I found that there was a hole at the bottom
of it, and that most of the water had leaked out.  So, do you see, I was
obliged to be very careful of the water, and couldn't put much of it at
a time in the glass.  If I had, you see, I shouldn't have had any of the
precious fluid, as they calls it, left for another glass.  Well, I
tossed off the liquid, and when I had smacked my lips, I began to think
much better of the doctor.  His stuff, you see, wasn't so bad after all.
Thinks I to myself, `If one glass is good, two must be better; so,
before I take to the oars again, I'll have another.'  Somehow the second
was even better than the first.  Then it struck me all of a heap like,
that the doctor said I should take three bottles of his stuff in a day;
so, as it was now getting towards sundown, thinks I, `The sooner I takes
the third the better.'

"Howsomedever, when I came to look at the can, I found that every drop
of water had leaked out, so I had no help for it but to fill the tumbler
up with the rum.  I can't say it tasted bad, though it was, maybe,
rather stiffish.  Well, as the tide was sending me along nicely, I
didn't get out the oars again, but sat in the boat meditating like, when
all of a sudden I felt myself very queer in the inside, and pains came
on just for all the world as if I had swallowed a score or two of big
mackerel, and they were all kicking and wriggling about in my
bread-basket.  `They are the smoke-worms the doctor told me about,'
thinks I.  `They don't like the taste of his stuff, that's the truth of
it.'  Well, I felt queerer and queerer, and Southsea Castle began to
spin round and round, and the kickers went dancing up and down, and the
ships in the harbour were all turning summersets, and every sort of
circumvolution and devilment you could think of took place.  Thinks I to
myself, `There's something in that doctor's stuff, there's no doubt
about that, though whether its worth a shilling a bottle is another
matter.'  Just then I felt more queer than ever.  `Heugh! heugh!'  There
was a rattling and a kicking, and such commotion in my inside, and up
came what I soon knew was the smoke-worms right out of my mouth, and
overboard they went as I put my head over the gunwale.  There was a
bushel of them if there was one.

"Never afore nor since have I seen such things, for every mother's son
had hairy backs and forked tails.  Yes, gentlemen and ladies, forked
tails and hairy backs.  Believe Jerry Vincent for the truth of what he
says.  The moment they got into the water they began to frisk and frolic
about as if it was natural to them, and to grow bigger and bigger and
bigger, till the first which came up was as big as a frigate's
jolly-boat.  I made short work of it, and threw them all up till I felt
there wasn't another morsel of any one of them in my locker.  Then
thinks I to myself, `It's time to look out sharp, or some of these merry
chaps with forked tails will be playing me a trick;' for you see that
they'd already begun to open their mouths very wide, and to splash the
water right over me as they whisked about round the boat, just like
sharks in the West Indies.  So I got out my oars pretty sharp, and began
to pull away towards Spithead, thinking to get clear of them, and to
carry my freight ashore as I'd engaged to do.  But I soon found that the
smoke-worms weren't quite so ready to part company with me, and as my
boat began to gather way, they began to swim after her.  The big fellow
led, and all the others followed.  There was hundreds of them, of all
sizes, and one little chap, who brought up the rear, was no bigger than
a sprat.  After me they came with open months and big red eyes, all the
hair on their backs standing up, and their tails whisking about like the
flukes of a whale in a flurry.  Didn't I just pull for dear life, for I
knew what they'd be after if they once grappled me.  They would have
swallowed me, every one of them.  I soon gave up all thoughts of
fetching up the ship I was bound for.  It would never have done to have
gone alongside one of his Majesty's crack frigates with such a train
after me.  I should have lost my character, you know.  On I pulled; I
didn't spare the oars, depend upon it; but, somehow or other, the way in
which the tide set, and the manner in which the brutes dodged me, made
me go right out to Spithead, and there I found myself pulling among a
whole fleet of men-of-war and Indiamen.  The officers and ships'
companies crowded into the hammock nettings and rigging to see me pass,
and never have I heard such shouts of laughter as they raised as I
pulled by.  Neither to the one side nor to the other could I turn; for
if I did, as surely one of the beasts would instantly swim up, with open
mouth, and make a grab at my oar to keep me going straight ahead.  I
sung out to the people aboard the ships in mercy's name to take a shot
at some of the bigger brutes, for I thought that I could grapple with
the little ones; but either they didn't or wouldn't hear me; so away I
pulled right out towards the Nab.  Thinks I to myself, `Perhaps the
people in the lightship will lend a helping hand to an old seaman;' but
not a bit of it.  When they saw me coming with my train of forked-tailed
brutes after me, they sung out that I must sheer off, or they would let
fly at me.  So there I was fairly at sea, followed by as disagreeable a
set of customers as a man ever had astern of him.

"I didn't bless Doctor Gulliman exactly, for I could not help thinking
that somehow or other he had had a hand in the mystification.  I now
pulled up my larboard oar a little, and found that I was going right
round by the Culver cliffs.  `Well, I'll get on shore at the back of the
Wight anyhow, and do them,' I thought to myself.  But what do ye think;
the moment I tried the dodge, the cunning brutes kept edging me off the
land, till I saw that there was no hope for me but to go on.  All the
time they made such a tremendous hissing and splashing and whisking,
that you'd have thought a whole ship's company was washing decks above
your head, and heaving water about in bucketsful.  It was now night, but
there was light enough and to spare to enable me to see the beasts as
they kept way with me.  I passed Sandown and Ventnor and Steephill, and
could see the lights in the houses all along the shore; but as to being
able to land, the wriggling brutes in my wake, as I said, took good care
that I shouldn't do that.  By the time I got off Saint Catherine's my
arms began to ache a bit, and I felt as if I couldn't pull another
stroke; but when I just lay on my oars to take breath and to knock the
drops off my brow, which were falling down heavy enough to swamp the
boat, the look of their wicked eyes and big mouths, as they came hissing
up open-jawed alongside, set me off again pretty fast.  I passed
Blackgang Chine, and caught a sight of Brooke, and then I thought I
would try to pull into Freshwater Gate, when I would beach the boat, and
have a run for my life on shore, for I didn't think they would come out
of the water after me.  The truth was that I couldn't bear the look of
them any longer; but the wriggling beasts were up to me, and before I
had so much as turned the boat's head towards the Gate, three or four of
the biggest fellows ranged up on my starboard side, and cut me off.  I
sung out in my rage and disappointment, but this only made matters
worse, and my eyes if they didn't begin to laugh at me, and such a laugh
I never did hear before, and hope I never may again.  It was like ten
thousand donkeys troubled with sore throats trying which would sing out
the loudest, and twice as many jackals mocking them, all joined in
chorus.  At last I got to Scratchell's Bay.  `Now's my time,' thinks I,
`if they once get me on a course down Channel, they may drive me right
round the world, or over to the coast of America at shortest.'  I knew
well the passage through the Needle rocks.  The flood was about making.
There might be just water for the boat, but none to spare.  `No odds,'
thinks I.  So, while I pretended to be steering for Portland, I shoved
the boat round, and then gave way with a will.  `If I knock the boat to
pieces against the rocks, I shall not be worse off than I am now,' I
said to myself, as I pulled for the passage.  I just hit it.  The keel
of the boat grazed over a rock below water; but the tide was running
strong, and I shot through like an arrow, and there I was in Alum Bay.
Now the passage was too narrow, you see, for the forked-tailed beasts to
get through, and they had a good chance of hurting themselves on the
rocks if they attempted it; so, if they had been as wise as I took them
for, I knew that they would go all the way round the outer Needle rock,
and that this would give me a great start.  Instead of that, in their
eagerness to follow me, what should they do but bolt right at the
passage.  The big fellow stuck fast, and the little ones couldn't get by
him, and there they were, to my great delight, all knocking their noses
against the rocks, and wriggling and hissing and struggling and kicking
up such a row, that I thought the people at Milford and Yarmouth, and
all along the coast, would be awoke up out of their quiet sleep to
wonder what it was all about.  However, it would never have done for me
to lay on my oars to watch the fun, because I thought it just as likely
as not, when the tide rose, that the noisy brutes might shove through
and be after me again, so I pulled away as hard as ever right up the
Solent, till I got safe back again into Portsmouth harbour.  Luckily, I
had the whole of the flood with me, or I never could have done it.  My
arms ached as it was not a little.  I moored my boat securely, and as it
wasn't yet daybreak, I lay down in the bottom of the boat, and fell
asleep.  I never slept so soundly in my life, and no wonder, after the
pull I had had.

"When I awoke the sun was shining out brightly, and I heard some one on
board a vessel coming up the harbour hail and call somebody or other a
drunken old rascal.  Who he meant of course I couldn't tell; that was
nothing to me.  At last I sat up in my boat, and rubbed my eyes, and
there was the doctor's bottles and the empty rum bottle and the can,
without any water in it, just as I left them when I was taken ill.  I
half expected to see the whole troop of wriggling, twisting,
forked-tailed smoke-worms coming up the harbour with the last of the
flood; but though I looked out till the tide had done, they didn't come,
and it's my belief that they knocked themselves about so much against
the Needle rocks, that they put about and went down Channel; and all I
can say is that I hope that every one of 'em was drowned or came to some
other bad end out at sea, and that I may never as long as I live have
such a night as the one I spent after taking Doctor Gulliman's physic.
Sarvant, marm and gentlemen, you'll agree that story is worth five
shillings.  Howsomedever, I never charges my friends, but gives them all
free gratis and for nothing."  And old Jerry gave one of his most
knowing winks as he finished off his glass and took up his hat to
prepare for his departure.

I ought perhaps to apologise for giving such a story; but it is a fair
specimen of the style of narrative in which old seamen of Jerry
Vincent's stamp are apt to indulge, and I have heard many such, though
seldom told with so much spirit, during my career at sea.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

VISIT TO PLYMOUTH--BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT--MISS RUNDLE'S ACCOUNT OF
CHARLEY--VOYAGE TO SHETLAND--WRECKED AGAIN--FALL AMONG FRIENDS--NEAR
DEATH'S DOOR--HAPPY ENCOUNTER--DESCRIPTION OF SHETLAND--MY RESIDENCE
THERE--MARRIED--SUMMONED SOUTHWARD.

I did not think that I should ever have got tired of living at Southsea
with my kind aunt and fine hearty old uncle, but I had been so
accustomed to a roving life and active employment, that in a little time
I began to consider that I ought to be looking out for something to do.
What to do was the question.  I had a fancy for staying on shore after
having been knocked about at sea for so many years, and setting up in
some business.

"What, have you forgotten Margaret Troall?" said my aunt to me one day.

The chord was struck.  "No, indeed, I have not," said I; "I'll go and
find her, and bring her back to you as my wife if she will have me."

I had given all my money to my uncle to have put safe in a bank for me.
The next day I drew thirty pounds of it, and shipped myself aboard a
smack bound for Plymouth.

Strange as it may seem, all the time I had been on shore I had never
once thought of my oath and its consequence, but scarcely had I got to
sea than the recollection of it came back, and I fully expected that
some accident would happen to me before I reached my destination.  It
did not, however.  I landed in safety, and walked immediately up to the
house where I hoped to find the old lady and her niece.  How strange it
seemed!  I never felt in such a way before in my life.  A child might
have knocked me down.  I got to the house.  How well I knew it!  I
looked in, as I had done before, at the parlour window.  I fully
expected to see the old lady sitting in her arm-chair and knitting, as I
had when I was last there.  My heart jumped up right into my throat, and
then down it went I don't know where.  There was no old lady there; but
there were three little children, fat, chubby, merry things, tumbling
about head over heels on the floor, and shouting and shrieking with
laughter, while a young woman sat on a low chair knitting and
encouraging them in their gambols, while she rocked a cradle with her
foot.  "All sorts of strange thoughts came into my head.  Who can she
be, I wonder?  Can it be?"  I said.  I looked at her very hard, but the
glass was thick and dirty, and I could not make out her features.  With
a trembling hand I knocked at the door.  A servant girl, after a little
delay, opened it.

"Does Mrs Sandon live here?"  I asked.

"No, she doesn't," was the short answer.

"Can you tell me where she lives?"  I said.

"No; she does not live anywhere, she's dead," said the girl, who seemed
determined not to throw a word away.

"Dead!" said I.  "Dead! just like Granny," I muttered, scarcely knowing
what I was saying.  The girl was going to slam the door in my face.
"Can you tell me, my good girl, who that lady is in the parlour?" said
I, stopping her.

"Yes, that's Mrs Jones," was the answer.

I was no wiser than before.  "Can you tell me what her maiden name was?"
said I, in a low, trembling voice.

"Missus never was a maid-servant; she was always a lady, as she is now,"
answered the girl, with a toss of her head, again attempting to slam to
the door.

"Stop, stop!"  I exclaimed, in an agitated manner.  "Can you tell me
whether she was Mrs Sandon's niece?"

"She'd nothing to do with Mrs Sandon that I knows on," said the girl;
"you're asking a lot of questions.  You wouldn't, if master was at
home."

I was fairly beaten.  Just then I heard a footstep behind me, and on
looking round, who should I see but Miss Rundle, tripping along the
pavement up to her own door, looking as brisk and young as ever.

"Oh, Miss Rundle, I'm so glad to see you!"  I exclaimed, forgetting all
the proprieties, and running after her.  "Can you tell me anything about
my kind friends who lived in our old house, and where I met you last at
tea?"  I thought she would have shrieked out when she saw me--she looked
so astonished.

"Why, who are you? where did you come from?  What do you want?  Why, I
thought you were dead.  You are not alive, are you?"

"I hope so, Miss Rundle.  I fancy I am.  I've done nothing to kill me
lately, and I know that I was alive a short time ago," I answered,
laughing in spite of my agitation.

"Well, if you are sure that you are alive, come in here and sit down and
tell me all about it," said the little old lady, opening the door of her
house with a latch-key which she drew from her pocket, and pointing to
the parlour, which she signed to me to enter.

I took off my hat and sat down, wondering what strange news I was to
hear.  She presently made her appearance, having laid aside her walking
dress.  I felt myself completely at home in a moment, she looked so
exactly as she had done when I last saw her on that delightful evening I
spent at Plymouth, and I so well remembered her in the days of my
boyhood.

"Well, Willand, I am glad to see you," said she in a kinder tone than
usual.  "A young man whom you know, and whose name I would rather not
repeat,--indeed I do not like thinking about him,--told us that you were
dead--drowned or killed somehow or other at sea.  Perhaps he had his own
selfish ends to serve, or perhaps he believed it; we will hope for the
best."

"Who do you mean!  What do you speak of, Miss Rundle?"  I exclaimed, in
a voice full of agitation.

"I speak of that false deceiver, that bad, heartless fellow, Charles
Iffley," she answered, in a tone which showed her strong dislike to my
former friend.  "Do you know, some time after you were here he returned
from sea, and came up here to visit me, and talked of old times and old
friendships, and how I had known his poor mother and his friends, till I
was quite taken with him; and then he presented me with a stuffed parrot
and two little pets of Java sparrows he called them (which certainly
were very merry and hopped about gaily in their cage), and a dried
snake, which he told me was a great curiosity; and he used to drop in to
tea nearly every evening, and certainly he used to talk very pleasantly.
However, it is not always the talkers that are the best doers or the
best people.  Then he began to inquire about the ladies next door, and I
invited them in to meet him, and he made himself still more agreeable
than ever.  This went on for some time, till I saw that he admired Miss
Margaret, old Mrs Sandon's niece; however, as he had plenty of money,
that was no business of mine.  I must say that by this time I did not
think so well of him as at first.  Many things he said were very
incorrect, and the snake he gave me began to be so disagreeable that I
was obliged to throw it away, and my maid told me that she was certain
the sparrows were no great things, so we examined them carefully, and
there could be no doubt about it, they were merely common English
sparrows painted.  When he came in and was waiting for me sometimes (for
he used to watch when I was out on purpose), he used to give them a
touch up, and tell me that he had been washing them and restoring their
plumage, and in that way he kept up the deception so long.  An old
gentleman, a friend of mine, who used to be fond of poking about and
looking into old curiosity shops, happened to call, and I showed him the
parrot which Charles Iffley told me had come from some part of Africa or
South America round Cape Horn, only that it had died before he could
give it to me.  When my friend saw the stuffed parrot, he turned it
about and examined it, and then showing me a ticket fastened to its
claw, told me that he knew the old Jew's shop where that bad fellow had
bought it, and to a certainty that he had not given more than a shilling
for it.  All this was very provoking, and made me begin to think very
differently of him to what I had done at first.  I did fancy that he
might have had some regard for an old friend."  And the old lady drew
herself up and uttered a gentle sigh.  "Such a dream was soon blown to
the winds," she continued.  "I found that he was constantly going and
calling at Mrs Sandon's, and very often he did not look in on me at
all.  It did not seem to me, however, that Margaret liked him, though I
think her aunt thought well of him, and encouraged him to come to the
house.  He had never spoken of you, I found, till one day I mentioned
your name, when he said, `Ah, poor fellow! he was a great friend of
mine.  I first got him a ship, and helped to make a sailor of him.  I
was very sorry to lose him.'

"`How lose him?' asked Miss Margaret gently.  Then he told them how you
had been sent away in a boat expedition in Teneriffe, to cut out some
prizes, and that the boat you were in had been knocked to pieces, and
that you had been either killed by the shot of the enemy or drowned, and
that nothing since had been heard of you."

"I cannot blame Charley, then," said I to Miss Rundle.  "I have no doubt
that he fully believed the statement he made.  Had I not succeeded in
getting on board another vessel, I should have been drowned, and we have
never met since.  But what occurred after this?--go on."

"You shall hear.  When he saw that Miss Margaret took some interest in
you, he began to talk of you in a disparaging way, as a poor sort of a
fellow, easily led, and that you had all sorts of strange fancies, which
he said he supposed had come to you with the northern blood which flowed
in your veins, and then he spoke in no complimentary way of Scotland and
the Orkney and Shetland people.  He said he forgot to which you
belonged.  I saw the colour come into Miss Margaret's cheeks.  `I belong
to Shetland myself,' said she.  `It is a country I love dearly.'  On
this, the young man began to apologise, and said that he was speaking
without consideration; that he had known one bad Orkney man, and that
was all, whereas he had known hundreds of bad Englishmen, and he hoped
Miss Margaret would pardon him.  She bowed, but said nothing.  He did
his best to make amends for what he had said, and certainly if attention
would have won a woman, he would have won her.  I could not help seeing
that was his aim.  However, his behaviour to me had not made me wish to
give him any help.  And, do you know, I found that he had been speaking
in a very disrespectful way of me.  I cannot repeat the names he called
me.  It showed me clearly what he was, and, though I did not like to
interfere, still I only hoped he would not succeed in winning that sweet
girl."

"Did he succeed, though?"  I exclaimed, in a voice choking with
agitation.  "Oh! tell me, Miss Rundle."

"You shall hear," answered the old lady, who was not to be hurried with
her narrative.  "Of course, having won the good opinion of the aunt was
a great point in his favour.  So he used to continue to go to the house
as often as ever.  He took the aunt all sorts of pretty presents, though
he did not venture to offer them to Margaret.  At last, however, he
seemed to think that the time was come when he must try his chance.  So
he walked in and found Margaret in the room alone, and he told her, in
an off-hand sort of way, that he loved her, and that, if she would marry
him, he would give up the sea and live on shore, and make her
comfortable and happy for the rest of her days."

"Did she accept him? did she marry him?"  I exclaimed, interrupting the
old lady.

"You shall hear, Mr Wetherholm," she answered quietly.  "What woman
does not feel flattered by receiving a proposal of marriage from a
fine-looking, free-spoken young man.  I'm sure I should."  And she put
her hand mechanically before her face to hide the gentle blush which the
thought conjured up on her cheek.  "She thanked him, but entreated him
not to persist in his offers.  Then she frankly told him that one she
had loved had died at sea; that her heart was buried with him in his
ocean grave; and that she could not marry a man she did not love.  She
was very firm, and Charles Iffley could not help seeing that he had very
little chance of success.  She told me this shortly afterwards.  He, it
seems, did not give up his attempt to win her.  Somehow or other, he had
taken it into his head that she was speaking of you, though he was
puzzled to know how you had won her heart.  He returned several times to
the house, but his chief occupation seems to have been in abusing you.
This made poor Miss Margaret fancy that you all the time were alive, and
that he knew it; and this, of course, made her still less inclined
towards him.  The less way he made in her affections, the more bitter he
became against you, till at last she had to tell him that his
conversation was disagreeable, and that he must never come to the house
again.  He still did come to the door several times, but the maid told
him that he must not come in, and that she would scream out murder if he
attempted it.  Soon after this, poor old Mrs Sandon fell ill and died,
and poor Miss Margaret was left alone without any one to assist her or
protect her.  I asked her to come and live with me till she could make
arrangements what to do.  She had friends in Shetland, though that is a
long way off, and I could not think what help they could afford her.
They wrote back begging that she would come to them, and that she should
be like their daughter, and they would be parents to her.  Well, against
my advice, she resolved to set off, and away she went.  She kindly wrote
to me once, to tell me of her safe arrival, and she thoughtfully paid
the postage, which was just like her, and very right.  You shall see her
letter, for I do not think she would object to my showing it to you."

I thanked Miss Rundle very much for the account she had given me, but I
could with difficulty reply to her for thinking what I would do.  All
sorts of ideas crowded into my mind.  I scarcely, however, recollected
Charley Iffley and his behaviour.  My thoughts flew off to Shetland, and
to Margaret Troall.  Miss Rundle gave me her letter.  I read it over and
over again.  I made a note of the place from which she dated it.  Miss
Rundle saw me, and asked me if I was going to write to her.

"No; I intend to go to Shetland," I answered promptly.  "I have made up
my mind to that.  After all you have told me, I shall not rest happy
till I have seen her.  Perhaps I shall take up my abode there
altogether.  My father's family come from Shetland, and if I could get
Aunt Bretta to come up there also, we might all be very happy."

I was much pleased by the kind way in which Miss Rundle seemed to
sympathise with me, and entered into all my views and plans, though she
herself had no personal interest in them.  She told me, in course of
conversation, that she had not since seen Charles Iffley, but that she
believed he belonged to some man-of-war or other, at the time of which
she had been speaking, and that she understood he was still in the
service.

My plan once formed, I lost no time in putting it into execution.  That
very evening I found a smack sailing for Portsmouth, and took my passage
by her.  On reaching Southsea, and telling my aunt all that had
occurred, she very much approved of my plans, and encouraged me to set
off at once for Shetland.  She sent all sorts of messages to old
friends, and to the children of old friends; for, as she remarked with a
sigh, it was too probable that many of the parents would have been
called away from the world.

Drawing a further supply of money from the bank, I went up to London by
the coach next morning.  I won't stop to describe how I was bothered and
confused in London, and how heartily I wished myself out of it.  I found
my way to London Bridge, and, after making many inquiries, I reached a
place where there were several Leith smacks moored together.  One was
going to sail the next tide.  I joyfully stepped aboard of her, and
still more happy was I to find myself clear of the Thames and out at
sea.  We were just a week making the passage, which was very well,
considering that we had a foul wind for some hours and had to bring up
in Yarmouth Roads.  From Leith I got on by another vessel to Aberdeen.
In that port I found a regular trader which sailed once a month to
Lerwick, in Shetland.  She was a smack, but not equal in size to the
craft in which I had come down from London to Leith.

We had been out about three days when very heavy thick weather came on,
and a south-westerly gale sprung up, which came sweeping through the
passage between Orkney and Shetland, kicking up a terrific sea.  The
smack behaved very well, but at last all that could be done was to set a
try-sail and to heave her to, and away we drifted we knew not where.  I
had never before been in the North Seas, so I was not accustomed to such
dark gloomy weather--not but what it is bad enough in the English
Channel now and then--still it does not often last so long as it does up
in the north.

Day after day the clouds hung down over our heads, and the wind howled,
and the dark green seas kept leaping up around, as if eager to draw us
down under their angry foaming bosoms.  We had a hard matter to cook our
provisions, and no very easy one to eat them raw or cooked.  Suddenly
the wind shifted and blew as strongly as ever from the eastward, and
then from the northward, and then got back again into the old quarter,
and the master confessed that, for the life of him he could not tell
where he had drifted to.

"On which side of Shetland are we, do you think?" said I.

"I only hope that we are still to the eastward, but at all events I
believe we are well away to the northward of the islands."

"I hope so," I answered.  "But look, captain, what huge and unbroken
seas come rolling in from the west; if we are not to the northward, it
is my opinion that we have got the islands under our lee, and if this
gale is to continue, I would rather have them anywhere else than there."

"So would I, young man; but I have made this trip pretty often, and I
don't think that I can be so far out in my calculation," was the answer.

All I could say was that I hoped that I was wrong and he was right, as,
whichever was the case, there was nothing we could do till the weather
moderated.  On we drove.  I did not like the look of things.  When night
came on I did not turn in, but sat down below out of the cold, ready to
spring on deck in a moment.  I had fastened my money in a belt round my
waist, and kept my shoes ready to kick off, and my jacket loose to throw
easily aside.  I was certain that the vessel would be wrecked.  I felt
no fear for my own life, though I remembered my rash oath and what had
occurred so often before, and the gloomy weather had indeed increased
the conviction that I was under a sort of curse, and that I should have
no rest till it was fulfilled.  I am just saying what I then thought.  I
cannot even now be surprised at the idea gaining such powerful
possession of my mind, while everything that had happened to me had
tended to strengthen it.

Night came on.  Pitchy darkness surrounded the storm-driven little
smack.  The cry of "Breakers! breakers!" and piercing shrieks made me
spring on deck.  At that moment the vessel struck.  The foaming seas
came hissing and roaring up after her.  We were among a dark mass of
rocks; no fabric formed by human hands could have withstood the violence
of those terrific waves.  I held on to the last moment, while the huge
foaming seas washed over my head, almost drowning me, as I clung to the
wreck.  Then I felt the deck quiver and shake, and the stout beams and
timbers were wrenched and torn asunder under my feet, and I was hurled
onward among the broken fragments by a roaring sea, which must have
well-nigh completed the destruction of the craft.  I lost all
consciousness.

My last thought had been that at length the angry sea was about to claim
me as a victim.  There was a hissing, roaring sound in my ears; I felt
myself tossed to and fro, knocked and battered, but I made no attempt,
that I am aware of, to save myself.  At length I opened my eyes.  It was
daylight.  Some men were bending over me.

I heard a voice say, "Here is one who seems to have still some life in
him."  And another person came and took my hand, and after waiting a
minute, said, "Yes, carry him up to the house."  And I was put on a
litter and borne up a steep path among some cliffs; and then across a
high, wild down till I reached a substantial, strongly-built stone
house.  The movement of the litter had a very good effect on me, so that
by the time I reached the house, my chest was relieved from the salt
water I had swallowed, and my senses had completely returned.  I was
therefore saved the ceremony, very common in those days, by which a good
many people were killed, of hanging nearly drowned men up by the heels,
under the idea that the water would more quickly run out of their
mouths.  I was carried into a large boarded room, out of which several
others opened.  In one of those there was a bed.  After my wet clothes
had been taken off me I was placed in bed, carefully wrapped up in
blankets, and directly after some warm drink was brought me.

I remember struggling somewhat when I found my money-belt being removed,
and trying to possess myself of it.

"Never fear, young man; it will be all safe," said a voice.  "We are not
wreckers, and we no longer fancy that you will work us harm because we
help to save your life."

This satisfied me.  I knew that there were honest people as well as
rogues in the world, but I had often met with honest ones, so I hoped
that I had now fallen among such.  One thing, at all events, was very
evident, they seemed anxious to save my life.  After this I fell into a
sound sleep.

It was nine o'clock in the evening when I awoke; but the summer days are
very long in those regions, and even then the evening sun was shining
into the window.  A stout, white-haired, kindly-looking old gentleman
came in to see me with a younger man, whom I took to be his son, and a
servant girl brought in a tray with some tea, and some barley scones,
hot and buttered.  I thought that I had never tasted anything nicer in
my life.

"I hope you are better now after your sleep, young man," said the old
gentleman.  "If fever can be kept off, I think you will do well; but we
have sent for the doctor to look at your hurts.  There are two or three
other people who want his aid."

"What, only two or three escaped out of all those on board the smack?"
said I.

"It is a mercy that any one came on shore alive; and you will say so
when you see the place in day-time," said the younger man.

"We won't speak about it at present," said the old gentleman.  "The less
he talks or hears others talk, the better just now.  We bid you
good-night.  Sleep again, if you can; some one will look in on you to
see how you are going on, now and then."

With these words my hospitable friends left me once more to myself.

I suspected, indeed, that I should be better for a doctor's care, for I
felt that I had been bruised and battered dreadfully; my head had been
bandaged, and when I tried to stir I found all my limbs sore and
stiff,--indeed, it was not without great pain that I could move either
an arm or a leg.  I slept through most of the night.  When I did awake,
I began to wonder where I had got to, for the old gentleman had remained
in the room so short a time, that I had not been able to ask any
questions.

I had little doubt that I had been cast away on the coast of Shetland,
but whether on the northern or southern end I could not tell, any more
than I could who was my kind host.

The next day the doctor arrived.  He had ridden over from Lerwick, with
only the rest of half-an-hour for his steed, he said; so I knew that I
must be at some distance from that town, and yet on the big island
called the mainland.  He dressed my wounds and bruises, and told me that
one or two of my ribs were broken, but that I might consider myself
fortunate that matters were no worse; and remarked that he had no doubt
I had lived a prudent, careful life, as I was perfectly free from all
signs of fever, which would not otherwise have been the case; and then
giving me some bottles of medicine to take, he left me to look after his
other patients.  He spent two or three days in the house, for the
islands are generally so healthy that there was not much demand for his
services elsewhere.

One of my poor shipmates died, I was told, from his hurts.  I rapidly
got better.  Besides the old gentleman and his son and the doctor, an
old lady looked in now and then to see me.  She was a very neat, pretty
old woman, so cheerful and cheery, always having something pleasant to
say, so that she contributed much to raise my spirits.  I will say that
I was most thankful for all the mercies which had been shown me, and for
my preservation from so great a danger.

At last I was pronounced well enough and strong enough to get up and
appear in public.  A barber, who was going his rounds, came in, and
shaved me and cut my hair, and my head and face were all to rights, so
that I looked as well as ever, only my ribs hurt me a little, and my
limbs felt somewhat stiff.

The old gentleman came to my room when I was ready.  "Take my arm," said
he kindly; "you will find it rather strange walking at first, and your
knees will shake a little."

I could not refuse his kind offer, though I thought that I could have
walked very well by myself.  He led me into the large hall, and there,
seated by a window at the further end, looking out on the sea, I
observed two young women.  One was dressed in black, the other in some
sober colour or other.  They were both at the moment bending down over
their knitting, and talking in a low voice to each other, so that they
did not observe our entrance.

We had got three-quarters of the way across the room, and the old
gentleman was giving me a chair to sit down on, when the noise it made
over the floor caused them to look up.  There sat one I had so long
thought of, whom I had come to search for, Margaret Troall.

She looked at me in a strange, bewildered way, still she knew me, and
yet she could not believe her senses.  She tried to rise from her chair
to come towards me, but something seemed to keep her back.  She drew her
breath quickly, as if she would have wished to have spoken, but could
not.  I felt that I ought to speak first.

"They told you I was dead, Miss Margaret," said I, and I know my voice
trembled very much, and I know that had I not leant on the chair I
should have fallen.  "They were mistaken; I went to Plymouth only
lately, and found you were no longer there; and when I discovered that
you had gone north, I came here to seek you."

She recovered herself while I was speaking, and rising from her seat,
came up and gave me her hand.  I do not say that there was anything very
extraordinary in the action, but I know that it made me very happy.  Her
friends at first looked very much astonished; but a few words served to
explain matters, and then they were doubly glad that they had had the
opportunity of being of so much service to an old friend of their young
relative.

I found that the name of my host, the uncle of Miss Troall, was David
Angus, and that the place where the smack had been wrecked was in Saint
Magnus Bay, in the parish of North Morven.  My friends were the holders
of one of the largest farms in the district, and lived in a very
comfortable, though what people in the south would call a rough way.  I
am not going to talk of all that passed between Margaret and me.  I
should not have believed that she had thought so much of me as she had
done, it seemed; but our first meeting had been under peculiar
circumstances.  She had seen me mourning deeply for a lost relative, and
she had discovered thus that I had a tender heart, so I may venture to
say, and now my coming all the way north to look for her showed her that
she had made no little impression on it.

Well, all that has passed and gone.  I got every day better and better,
and was soon able to walk out with her along the tops of the high
cliffs, and to visit the wild scenes to be found especially in that part
of the island.  I especially remember one place we visited, called the
Navis Grind.  It is a gap in the cliffs formed by the whole force of the
western ocean rolling against them during a succession of heavy gales,
age after age, till vast fragments of the rock have been forced in for
hundreds of yards over the downs, and now lie like the fragments of some
ruined city scattered over the plain.  We delighted in returning to
those scenes of wild grandeur, because they contrasted so strongly with
our own quiet happiness.

This was only the second time in my life that I had enjoyed what might
be properly called idleness.  The first was during my short stay with
Aunt Bretta, and then I confess that I often did at times feel weary
from not knowing what to do with myself.  Now I never felt anything like
weariness, I was too happy to spend the greater part of the day in the
society of Margaret.  Sometimes I used to walk by myself over the downs
by the edge of the cliffs, and at others visit the different parts of
his farm with my host, and assist him to look after his cattle and
horses and sheep, which were scattered far and wide over the peninsula.

I have scarcely mentioned his daughter Minna.  She was a fair-haired,
smiling, good-natured lassie, who was contented with her lot, because
she had sense enough to discover that it was a very happy one.

There was one person, however, who would, I soon with some pain
discovered, have been better pleased had I not come to the islands.
That was John Angus, my host's son.  He did not treat me uncivilly or
unkindly, but I saw that it cost him an effort to be as cordial as the
rest of his family.  He was a good-natured, frank, kind-hearted man,
whom under other circumstances I should have hoped to have made my
friend.  I cannot but think, too, that in time he would have won
Margaret's regard, and he was certainly a man to have made any woman
happy.

In two weeks or so I was Margaret's acknowledged suitor, or rather, I
may say, her affianced husband.  I was so happy that I thought sorrow
could never again come near me.  Now Margaret herself reminded me that I
was a Shetlander,--indeed, as I was born at sea, no other people would
claim me,--and that I ought to try and find out some of my family.  I
talked the subject over with Mr Angus.  He remembered many of them, but
when he came to consider, every one of my near relations were gone.
Some cousins of my father's were the nearest remaining, and then there
were several of Aunt Bretta's old friends, the companions of her youth
whom she wished me to see.  John Angus volunteered to accompany me, and
he provided two strong, shaggy little ponies for our journey.

We started away one morning soon after daybreak over the wild tracks,
the only substitute for roads through the islands in those days, and
crossed into the chief part of the mainland by a causeway so narrow that
I could have thrown a biscuit across it.  On one side of us was Rowe
Sound, and on the other Hagraseter Voe, a long, narrow voe running out
of Yell Sound.  It would be difficult to describe the wild, and often
beautiful scenery through which we passed.  Long, deep voes, full of
inlets and indentations, with high heathery hills on either side, was
the most characteristic feature, and quiet, little inland lochs, with
wildfowl resting on their bosoms, was another, and then high rocky
cliffs, the habitation of innumerable sea-birds, and hundreds of green
islands and rocks scattered about on every side on the surface of the
blue ocean.

John Angus did his best to point out to me the various points of
interest we passed.  Among the most curious were the Pictie towers,
little round edifices built with rough stone, beautifully put together,
with passages inside winding up to the top without steps.  They were
built by a race who inhabited those islands long before the time of
which history gives any account.  Whence they came, or how they
departed, no one knows.  Every hamlet throughout Shetland is called a
toun.  The cottages composing them are very far from attractive-looking
edifices, generally built of mud, of one storey, and thatched; with a
midden on one side of the door, and a pool of a very doubtful colour and
contents on the other.  The insides were often large and clean, and tidy
enough, and in such I found many of my aunt's friends residing.

Wherever I went, I was hospitably received, and I delivered my messages,
and rode on.  I cannot say that my cousins appeared very highly
delighted at seeing me, which was natural enough, considering that till
I made my appearance, and announced myself, they had never heard there
was such a person in existence.  However, Aunt Bretta was remembered by
all her contemporaries with affection.  I should have enjoyed my visits
more had I not been anxious to return to Hillswick.

We were altogether five days away, and in that period, sometimes by
means of boats, and sometimes on the backs of ponies, and at others on
our own feet, we visited the greater portion of the islands.  I often
felt that had I been born among them, I should never have desired to
leave their quiet shores, and more than once contemplated the
probability of spending the remainder of my days there.  I spoke my mind
on the subject to John Angus.

"Do, Weatherhelm, do," he answered; "we shall be glad to have you among
us: but you've heard the old notion we islanders have, that he who is
saved from drowning by any one of us is certain to work us ill?"

"I've heard of the idea not only as held by the people of Shetland, but
by those of many other countries," I answered.  "Like many other ideas,
to my mind, it is not only false, but wrong and wicked.  Depend upon it,
the idea was invented by those who wanted an excuse for killing the
unfortunate people wrecked on their coast in order to obtain their
property."

"That may be," said Angus; "still, for my part, I cannot help believing
that it is in some respects true.  However, sometimes a man may work
another harm without intending it.  But come along, put your nag into a
trot, we have a good many miles of this heavy peat land to get over
before we reach home."

It was not till some time afterwards that I knew what John Angus meant
by his remarks.  He volunteered to take the ponies round to the stable,
while I went into the house.  It was worth going away for a few days for
the pleasure of being received as I was by Margaret.  I thought her
looking more sweet and lovely than ever.  As I said before, I am not
going to repeat all that occurred between us.  The day was fixed for our
marriage, and friends from far and near were invited to it.  They came,
some by water and others on ponies; the women on pack-saddles, with
their head-gear in baskets hung over their arms.  Mr Angus had told me
that he hoped, since I was to become his nephew, that I would live on
with him and help him in his croft, as there was work enough both for me
and his son.  John, indeed, had a mind to go and see something of the
world, and was proposing a trip to Aberdeen, if not to Edinburgh, before
the winter.  He would be away, at all events, during the winter, so that
my services would be of great value.

This proposal exactly suited my wishes.  I was certain that Margaret
would be happy with her friends, and I should find plenty of the sort of
employment which suited me.  I should be out of doors during all the
hours of daylight, and I knew that I should be handy in the various
occupations in which the family passed their time during the long
evenings of winter.  Well, then, Margaret and I were married, and the
guests who had welcomed me back as a countryman to Shetland, took their
departure, and we all settled down into a very regular, happy state of
existence.  John Angus went away to Scotland, and I took his place as
his father's assistant.  The winter came round pretty quickly, and
though we had fogs and damp sometimes, I did not find the weather nearly
so cold as I expected.  Even in mid-winter, with a south-westerly wind,
it was always quite warm; but when the wind shifted round and came out
of the north-east or east, it was cold enough.  Still there was very
little ice, and not often much snow.  As I have often remarked when
wandering over the globe, every country has its advantages, and those
far northern islands have theirs.  They have their long days in summer,
and bright skies, and fragrant wild-flowers, and fine wild scenery, and,
thanks to the hot waters of the Gulf Stream which wash their shores, a
tolerably temperate climate all the year round.  The winter passed
rapidly away.  I could often scarcely believe in my happiness, after all
the hardships and dangers I had undergone, and I am afraid that I was
not sufficiently grateful for it.  One thing I felt, that Margaret did
not repent the choice she had made.  Though I had had rather more
education than generally falls to the lot of those of my class, I knew
that I was but a rough, untutored seaman, and so I did my utmost to be
tender and gentle to my wife, and to study how I best could please her
in everything.  I did not forget my old friend Miss Rundle,--my wife and
I wrote her a long letter between us, fall of all sorts of fun; we also
took good care to pay the postage.  Of course, also, we wrote to Aunt
Bretta.  She sent back a letter in return, hoping that we would soon
come south to see her.  We expected John Angus in the spring, but he did
not return.  He wrote instead, to say that he had got some employment in
the south, which suited him for the present, and that he was very happy.

A whole year passed away.  During the second winter, I thought that my
wife, who had been so long accustomed to the soft air of Devonshire, was
suffering from the long continuance of damp fogs.  While I was balancing
in my mind whether I ought not to take her south, I received another
letter from Aunt Bretta.  She told me that she was quite sickening to
see me and my wife, and that my uncle hoped to be able to find some
employment on shore which would suit my taste.  When I laid the proposal
before my wife, she at once acceded to it.  "I am afraid," said she,
"that as long as we remain here, we keep poor John away from his family.
If we go south, he will return home."  David Angus, and the old lady,
and our kind-hearted cousin, were most unwilling to part with us, but we
had written to Aunt Bretta to say that we were coming, and we could not
again change our plans.  About the middle of June we sailed in a smack
bound direct for Leith, and once more I found myself on salt water.



CHAPTER NINE.

VOYAGE IN THE SMACK--GALE SPRINGS UP--WASHED OVERBOARD--SAVED ON A
SPAR--DREADFUL FEARS FOR MY WIFE'S SAFETY--THE KIND-HEARTED FISHERMAN--
FIND THE SMACK--ACCOUNT OF HER ESCAPE--JOURNEY ON LAND--COACH UPSET--
AGAIN PRESERVED--REACH HOME--OLD JERRY AGAIN--HIS ADVENTURE WITH THE
BEARS.

I was walking the deck one night, while my wife was below, and thinking
of the events of my past life, when the recollection of my rash oath
came across me like a thunder-clap in summer, when just before the whole
sky overhead has appeared of the purest blue.  "Is my dreadful fate
still to pursue me?"  I thought.  "Rather than she should be torn from
me, let me perish with her."  The weather was fine, the wind was light
and fair, and there was not the slightest cause for any apprehension of
danger.  Had I been by myself, such an idea would not, I believe, have
crossed my mind; but now that I had so precious a being under my charge,
I was timid as a mother with her first-born child.  At last I went
below, and the night passed away in quietness.  The next morning was
bright and lovely as ever an early summer has had to exhibit, and I felt
ashamed of my thoughts of the previous evening, as if I had been
ungrateful for the blessings I had received, and mistrustful of God's
merciful providence.  Still the ideas I had entertained came back again
during the forenoon, and haunted me at times throughout the day.  Had I
been able to speak to my wife on the subject, I doubt not I should have
relieved my mind; but I was afraid of frightening her and making her
nervous, so I kept them to myself.  As the evening drew on, dark clouds
were seen banking up on the horizon.  I watched them with an anxiety I
had never before experienced at sea, for I had never before been on the
ocean with a freight I prized so much.  They continued rapidly to
increase, and before night closed in had formed a thick canopy overhead,
while dark heaving seas came rolling in towards us across the full width
of the German Ocean, and the increasing breeze moaned and whistled in
our rigging.  The smack heeled over to the force of the wind till her
lee-bulwarks were under water, but still the master was unwilling to
shorten sail.  We were on a lee shore, and he was anxious to haul off
sufficiently to make his passage good for the Firth of Forth.  We might
even then have run back for the Moray Firth, where, as the wind was from
the southward of east, we should have got under the lee of the land; but
then we might have been detained there, very certainly for many days and
perhaps for several weeks, so he resolved, at all hazards, to keep the
sea.  Under a close-reefed mainsail and storm-jib, the little vessel
continued her course, looking bravely up to the increasing gale.  Still,
at times she plunged heavily into the seas, and it often seemed, as I
stood on her deck, as if she would never rise again above them.  I sat,
while I could, by my wife in the cabin, to try and comfort and protect
her; but I could not help rushing on deck every now and then to
ascertain how matters were proceeding.  The report, however, I had to
give when I returned below was anything but encouraging.  I had no idea
of deceiving people, as some persons do, when danger is threatening.  I
am certain that the more a person can contemplate the possibility of
danger, the better able they will be to encounter it when it comes, if
they have employed the meantime in reflection and in considering the
best means to meet it.

We were off the Scotch coast, somewhere between Stonehaven and Montrose,
I fancy, when the gale came down upon us with greater force than ever,
and the old master thought if he could get the try-sail on the vessel,
as we had by this time gained a considerable offing, that he should be
able to heave her to and weather it out till it blew over.  As he was
about to shift the sails the wind lulled a little, and once more he
hoped that he should be able to hold on his course.  He forgot that all
this time, though he was certainly getting more to the southward, the
vessel was also drifting nearer and nearer inshore.  At last the gale,
as if it had rested merely to gain strength, breezed up again with
greater fury than ever.  I was below at the time.  "We must get the
try-sail on her, my lads," I heard the old man sing out.  Securing my
wife to a sofa in the cabin, I sprang on deck to lend a hand, for I knew
that all the strength that could be obtained would be required, and that
every moment of delay added to our danger.  Many as were the gales I had
been in, I had never beheld a more terrific-looking scene than that by
which I now found myself surrounded.  Vivid flashes of lightning every
now and then revealed the dark wall-like waves which rose up with their
crests of foam on every side around us, and threatened to engulf the
little craft struggling helplessly among them.  Still no one stopped a
moment to think of all this--the work to be done was to get the mainsail
off her and to set the try-sail.  I thought at the time that we were
much nearer inshore than the old master fancied.  The try-sail was
almost set, and we were hauling out the sheet, when I heard the old man
sing out, "Hold on, my lads! hold on!  Here comes a sea which will give
her a shake."  On it came.  I was to leeward.  I felt myself torn from
the rope to which I held, and my feet lifted off the deck.  The wild
waves surrounded me.  There was a tumult in my ears.  With horror and
agony I discovered that the sea had carried me overboard.  I shrieked
out instinctively for help, though I knew that none could be afforded.
In vain I struggled to regain the vessel.

My real condition presented itself with terrific clearness to my mind.
For my own life I cared not, but I thought of my wife--of her agony and
despair when she discovered that I was lost.  I would have given worlds
to have got once more on board that little sea-tossed bark.  I was
always a good swimmer.  Even amid those tossing waves I found that I
could keep my head above water.  Still the unequal struggle could not
have lasted long, when at the moment I was losing the dim outline of the
little vessel in the darkness, I found myself thrown against some
floating object.  A hope that I might possibly preserve my life sprung
up in my bosom.  I grasped the object, and found that it was part of the
mast and top of a large vessel.  I clambered upon it and held fast while
I recovered my breath.  Though it was violently tossed about by the
seas, which threatened every moment to sweep me off from it, still I
held on.  My first thought was to endeavour to discover how far off was
the smack, on board which was all I prized in life.  I could nowhere see
her.  I have heard of people's hair turning white in a single night from
grief--I felt that mine might have done so from the agony of mind I
endured.  Would the smack weather out the gale? or would my dear wife
survive the shock when she discovered that I had been so suddenly torn
from her?  "I have often been punished, and justly, but this is the most
severe punishment of all," I thought to myself.  A voice whispered in my
ear, "Curse God, and die,"--the same voice which had whispered the same
words into the ear of the Patriarch Job many ages ago, and has been
whispering the like into the ears of thousands of human beings ever
since.  "Oh God, have mercy on me and support me!"  I ejaculated, and
the tempter fled from me.

Scarcely able to breathe from the dense masses of spray surrounding me,
and from the waves which kept continually washing over me, I still clung
on to the wreck.  I fancied that the shattered mast was being floated
onward.  I do not remember now what reason I had for supposing so.  It
contributed, at all events, to keep up my hope of being ultimately
rescued.  How slowly and painfully the hours passed by!  Often I thought
that, from very exhaustion and cold, I must be swept from my hold.  At
length, as I was looking upwards at the sky to try and discover any
break in the clouds which might afford me an indication that the gale
was abating, I beheld the first faint streaks of dawn appearing in the
eastward.  The clouds seemed to lift like a thick curtain to let in the
light of day.  I looked round towards the land; I could distinguish its
dim outline through the darkness which still hung over it.  This
convinced me that the mast must have drifted much nearer than when I
first got hold of it.  This fact, however, tended to increase my anxiety
for the fate of the smack.  What if she has been driven on the rocks,
and, as would probably be the case, all on board have perished!  "Oh,
why, why was not I allowed to remain with my dear wife, to perish with
her, or to be the means of saving her!"  I exclaimed, in the agony of my
spirit.  The intensity of my feelings almost overcame me.  As daylight
increased, I saw that the summer gale had considerably lessened, and
every minute the wind seemed to be going down.  I could now clearly make
out the shore, the yellow sands, with their fringe of dark rocks, over
which the surf was breaking with almost unabated fury.  "What chance of
escaping with my life will there be, if I am drifted in among those wild
rocks?"  I thought to myself.  Now there could be no doubt that I was
drifting, and rapidly too, towards the shore.  With an anxious, piercing
gaze, I looked round to the southward to see if I could discover any
signs of the smack, half dreading to find her driven in among the rocks,
yet still praying and hoping that she might be riding safely at anchor
behind some sheltering reef, or within some little harbour on the coast.
Not a sign of her could I discover.  I looked seaward.  Two or three
sails were seen, rising and falling in the offing, but too far off to
allow me to hope that she could be one of them.  On drove the mast; its
course was altered, and it was evidently drifting along shore to the
southward.  I judged that I was not more than three or four hundred
fathoms from the breakers.  I discovered that by climbing a little
further on the mast, I could stand upright without its turning over with
me.  Finding this, I untied a silk handkerchief I had about my neck, and
waved it around my head.  I continued waving, hoping that some one would
see my signal.  I waited anxiously, looking along the shore.  At so
early an hour few people were out.  At last the head of a man appeared
above a sand-hill.  I waved more vehemently, and shouted, forgetting
that my voice could not be heard above the roar of the breakers.  Soon I
saw him standing on the top of the hill, and looking through a spy-glass
at me, and then he waved his hand in return, and, pointing to the
southward, ran on.  Directly afterwards I saw two or three other people
running in the same direction, carrying oars over their shoulders, and a
boat-hook.  I guessed that they were making for some little harbour or
sandy cove, where their boats were drawn up.  I prayed that they might
come to my aid quickly, for every instant the wreck of the mast drove
nearer and nearer to the rocks.  Still I cannot say that I felt much
doubt about being saved after having already been so mercifully
preserved during the night from dangers so terrific.  Yet it appeared an
age before I saw a boat darting out from an opening in the rocks.
Putting her head to the seas, she dashed up towards me.  She had not
come a minute too soon.

"Stand by, mon! stand by to leap aboard!"  I heard a voice sing out, as
the bow of the boat came up close to where I was hanging on.

I did not require a second order; at the same time, my limbs were so
stiff and benumbed that I could scarcely have obeyed, had not two of the
men in the bow of the boat caught me by the collar, and hauled me on
board.

"Noo, round wi' her, laddies! round wi' her! we'll hear a' aboot it by
and by," cried the man at the helm.

The boat was at the time scarcely half-a-dozen fathoms from the surf,
and any sea rolling in, and breaking sooner than usual, might have
rolled her over and over and drowned all hands.  With hearty tugs the
men who had so bravely rescued me pulled the boat round and out to sea,
while the mast was directly afterwards carried among the surf, and
hurled round and round, till it was cast in fragments on the rocks.  I
shuddered when I saw what my fate might have been.  There was little
time to exchange many words with the fishermen before the boat was
pulled into a little sandy cove, and they all, springing out, ran her up
high and dry on the beach.

"You maun be weet, laddie," said the old master of the boat, helping me
out of her with the aid of two of the other men.  "Come up to my hoose,
and we'll put dry duds on ye, and then you'll tell us how ye came to be
floating on that bit of wreck there.  She maun hae been a large ship ye
belonged to, I'm thinking, and ye were the only one saved? it's sad to
think of it."

Under some circumstances I should have been amused by the eagerness of
the old man to hear the account I had to give, at the same time that his
kind heart prompted him not to fatigue me by asking questions.  I was
still more anxious to know if he could give me any account of the smack.
As we were going up to the cottage I described her exactly, but he
shook his head.

"We were up late last night, looking along the shore on account of the
gale, and we were not out so early this morning as usual," was the
reply.

Having satisfied the curiosity of my host with an account of my own
adventure, I entreated that, as soon as my clothes were dried, I might
be allowed to proceed to the southward along the coast, to try and gain
tidings of the smack.  My hopes revived within me when the fisherman
told me that we were not far from the mouth of the Firth of Tay, and
that perhaps the smack might have been driven in there.

"Still ye should know that there is a danger there which has proved
fatal to many a tall ship," said the old man.  "It is called the
Inchcape Rock.  There's a bell made fast to it, which, whenever a gale
is blowing, tolls by the tossing of the seas as they drive against it.
You've heard tell, maybe, of the pirate, who, in the wantonness of his
wickedness, carried the bell away, and who, although another was placed
in its stead, was lost, with all his companions, on that very rock.
Heaven finds out sinners of high and low degree, at some time or other,
however they may endeavour to escape its vengeance."

I thought to myself, "True, indeed, is that.  How often have I been
found out and punished for my one great sin!"

Ill and weak as I was, I insisted, as I had had some food on starting,
to proceed along the coast to try and obtain tidings of the smack.  If
she had not foundered, she must have been cast on shore or taken shelter
in some harbour at the mouth of the Tay.

"No, no," said the old man; "young blood fancies that it can do
anything, but I tell ye that ye have no strength to go on now without
rest.  I'll send my laddies along the coast, both north and south, and
they will make inquiries and bring back any tidings they can obtain; you
will have news of the vessel more speedily in that way than any other."

Still I insisted on putting on my own clothes and setting off; but when
I attempted to get up, I found that I could scarcely walk across the
room, much less could I hope to trudge over the links, and rough rocks
and sand which lined the shore along which I wished to proceed.  I was
obliged, therefore, to consent to go to bed, and to try and sleep.  At
first I thought that would be impossible, but my old sailor habits
triumphed over the anxiety I felt, and the rest I so much needed came to
me.

In less than four hours I awoke.  I found myself alone; so I sprang up
and put on my clothes, resolved that nothing should stop me from
proceeding on my journey.  I felt far stronger than I could have
expected.

"Stay till my laddies come in, and hear what account they have to give
ye," said the kind-hearted old fisherman, making me sit down once more
in the porch in front of his cottage.

The roof was the bow of a small boat, which made a good shelter from the
sun, and the supporting-posts the jawbones of a whale which had been
stranded on the shore.

That I might have something to distract my mind he gave me a stick that
I might fashion it to support my steps as I walked along.  When I had
cut it to the required length I sprang up, saying I would go on some
little way, at all events, begging his son to follow me; when we saw the
young man approaching the cottage from the north, I ran forward to meet
him.

"Have you heard anything of the smack?"  I inquired, in breathless
haste.

"No; not a sign of her.  There was a big ship lost with all hands--not a
soul escaped--in the early part of the night; but often when the big
ship goes down the small one swims; ye ken that, mon," was the answer.

Although he had been out for some hours, he insisted on accompanying me
when he found that I had resolved on proceeding, till we should fall in
with his brothers.  The old man gave me his blessing, and the old wife
and the rest of the family parted most kindly with me--they were all so
much interested in the account I had given them of myself.  As to
receiving any remuneration, they would not hear of it.

We toiled on over the links; sometimes I thought that my knees would
have given way under me.  At last the old weather-beaten tower of
Broughty Castle appeared in sight, the ancient guardian to the entrance
of the Tay.  "We'll just sit down here till the ferry-boat is ready to
cross," said my companion, throwing himself on the grass bank under the
crumbling walls.  "Maybe my brother will be coming over just now, and he
will tell us what he has learned."

I suggested that the smack might have run up to Dundee, but he said that
was not in the least likely.  If she had come in there she would have
brought up off Broughty itself.  We made inquiries, before sitting down,
of some fishermen who had been on the shore all the morning, and
certainly no vessel, they said, answering the description of the smack
had come in.  At any other time my eye would have dwelt with pleasure on
the scenery which is presented by the beautiful estuary of the Tay, but
now I could only think of the object of my search.  I was leaning back
on the grass, hoping to recover strength to proceed, when my companion
jumped up and ran down toward the water's edge.

"What news, Sandy! what news do ye bring?"

"The vessel is safe," was the answer.  "Thank Heaven for its mercy!"  I
ejaculated; and springing up and running towards the young fisherman,
"Tell me, lad, tell me, how is my wife!"

"The puir young leddy was taken very bad--very bad indeed, when she
found that you had gone overboard, and all on board thought that she
could not live.  No one could give her any comfort, for no one thought
you could have escaped.  The rest on board, indeed, had soon to think of
themselves.  The vessel drove past the Inchcape Rock, and all heard the
tolling of the bell, and believed that they were going to strike on it.

"While others were bemoaning their fate, and crying out for mercy, and
expecting to be drowned, she sat up and seemed to have forgotten the
cause of her own grief.

"`Ah,' she said with a smile, `what makes you miserable, gives me joy.
You fear death.  I look forward to it as a happiness, because I shall
soon be joined to him who has been torn from me.'

"Ay, sir, the bell tolled louder and louder, and each toll that it gave
made her heart beat quicker with joy, while it drove the life-blood away
from the hearts of those who feared death as the greatest of evils.  On
drifted the vessel--darkness was around them--still that solemn bell
kept tolling and tolling, but yet the expected shock was not felt.  The
bell tolled on, but the sounds grew fainter and fainter, and the master
told them that they had no longer cause to fear, and might thank Heaven
for their preservation, for that he knew where they were, and could take
them into a port in safety.  Well, but of your wife, I know that you
will want to hear."

"Yes! yes!"  I exclaimed, "tell me how is she--where is she!"  We wore
all the time the young fisherman was speaking hurrying down towards the
ferry-boat.

"That is just what I was about to tell ye," he answered, with the
deliberate way in which the inhabitants of that part of Scotland of his
rank generally speak.  "The young leddy, they told me, no sooner heard
that the vessel was in safety, than she gave way to a sorrow which it
was pitiful to witness.  They tried to comfort her, but she was not to
be comforted.  She had gone off into a sort of trance when the vessel
brought up this morning under Saint Ann's Head.

"The master was thinking about putting to sea when I got on board.  He
and all the people were very much surprised to hear that you had
escaped; but the difficulty seemed to be to break the news to your wife.
The master promised not to sail till you appeared, and I promised to
come and hurry you on."

"Thank ye, thank ye, my kind friend!"  I exclaimed, shaking him by the
hand.  "But my wife--tell me about my wife.  How did she bear the sudden
reaction?"

"It did her all the good in the world," he answered cheerfully.  "The
old master, who is a canny man, went down into the cabin and began to
talk of the wonderful things which had occurred to his knowledge at
sea--how people had been kept alive floating on a spar for a couple of
days, and how others had swam a dozen miles or more, or been washed from
the deck of one vessel right aboard another, and fallen overboard, and
been picked up floating on a grating, or an oar, by a vessel coming up
astern hours afterwards.

"Suddenly the young lady lifted herself up, showing, that though she had
appeared to be asleep, she had been listening to every word that had
been said.

"`Captain,' said she, `in mercy tell me whether you believe that my
husband's life has been preserved by any of the means you speak of.  Do
not deceive me.  Do not keep me in doubt.'

"`Not for all the world would I deceive you, young leddy,' said the
master; `I will tell you what I believe to be the truth, that your
husband got floated on shore last night, and that he is not a great way
off, to prove to you that what I say is true.'

"Oh, did not she cry out with joy and thankfulness, and then the old
master told me what he had said, and charged me to come on here as fast
as I could to bring you on board."

My two young friends insisted on accompanying me all the way back to the
vessel, about three miles along the southern shores of the Firth, and
thankful indeed was I for their support.  It showed me how an old man
must feel when his strength is failing him, and he has a long journey to
perform.  It taught me always to have more compassion for advancing age
than I had before been inclined to feel.

I cannot describe the unspeakable joy it was to my wife and me to meet
each other again, after the dreadful anxiety we had both of us
experienced, and the dangers we had gone through.  I was unwilling to
trust her again on the treacherous ocean, even for the short passage
round to Leith; but she entreated me not to be so mistrustful of
Providence, who had been so merciful to us, and urged me to continue the
voyage.  I felt at the time that she was right, and that, instead of
considering myself as under a curse, I ought to acknowledge that each
time I had been shipwrecked, I had received a special mark of God's
favour, for my life had been preserved, while so many others of my
fellow-creatures had lost theirs.  Instead, therefore, of taking her on
shore, and going on to Saint Andrews, as I had at first proposed doing,
I agreed to remain on board the smack.  I could not sufficiently thank
the two young fishermen for the labour and trouble they had taken for my
sake.  They laughed when I talked about it.

"Hoot! it's just nothing.  We ken by your looks that you would do the
same for us, so say no more about it, mon," was the answer they both
gave.  I hope they were right in the favourable opinion they had formed
of me.

In the afternoon, the weather having completely moderated, we sailed.
What a contrast did the next night afford to the previous one!  The
stars came out, and the moon shone forth, playing brightly on the
tranquil waters, just rippled over with a light breeze, which sent us
along smoothly on our course.  Margaret sat on the deck with me,
watching the scene with a delighted eye and thankful heart.  Our
conversation was far too solemn for repetition.

"Oh, Willand, never let us again doubt God's mercy and kindness towards
us.  At this hour last night how stormy and dark was the ocean; how full
of anguish and misery were our hearts; how utterly hopeless did
everything appear; not a gleam burst forth to give us consolation!  We
were violently torn from each other, it seemed, never to be united again
on earth, neither of us knowing what had become of the other; and now
see how the face of nature smiles!  Once more we are united, and all our
prospects appear bright and happy."

Thus we talked on, and, thankful for the present, did not dream that
storms of adversity might yet be in store for us, yet not sent without a
gracious and merciful object to try and improve our hearts.

We reached Leith in safety, and as neither of us had before been in
Edinburgh, we spent some days there to view that beautiful and
interesting city.  Such it was even in those days; but though it has
lost somewhat in picturesque effect, it has since then been greatly
improved.

It may seem strange that a sailor should be afraid of trusting himself
at sea; but reason as I might, I could not bring myself to take my wife
to the south by water.  I therefore prepared to convey her to London by
coach, and from thence to Portsmouth.  The expense was very great; but I
promised her that I would toil hard in whatever occupation I undertook
to make it up, and at last she acceded to my wishes.  We calculated that
we should be about a week or ten days getting to London, for those were
times when even the coaches on the great northern road went very
leisurely along, and it was not for some time after that they were
superseded by the fast London and Edinburgh mail.  Times have indeed
changed with all of us.

We left Edinburgh one morning at daybreak, and proceeded south to
Berwick, where we stopped.  Our next stage was York.  There we rested
the greater part of the day, for my wife seemed very much fatigued, and
when I saw how fine the weather continued, I began to repent that I had
not gone, as she wished, by sea.  I had placed her inside, while I went
on the top of the coach.  I observed that our fat old coachman, who,
although it was summer weather, was muffled up in a greatcoat, with a
red comforter up to his eyes, whenever we stopped to change horses went
into the bar of the roadside inn and took a pretty stiff glass of brandy
and water to keep out the damp, as he told his passengers.  At last four
rather frisky horses were brought out and harnessed to the coach.

"Steady now, Mr Currycomb; we have some ugly hills to go up and down,"
remarked one of the passengers who had watched his drinking proceedings
with some little anxiety.

"Oh, never fear me, sir," answered the old man, in a thick, husky voice.
"I've driven this road, man and boy, for the last fifty years, and I
should think I know how to take a coach along it without anybody telling
me how to do it, do you see.  If I thinks it's best to trot down a hill,
why I'll do it, and no one shall tell me not.  That's what I've got to
say."

I have frequently met the same sort of obstinate characters among
seamen, the very men who manage to get their ships cast away; but I
fancied that they were not to be found among those who live among the
civilising influences of the shore.

For some time we went on pretty well, though now and then the overloaded
coach going down a hill rocked to and fro pretty violently.  When we
stopped the next time, a gentleman who had gone in the inside, because
there was no place on the outside, said that he had never been
accustomed to travel inside, and that it made him very ill, and asked if
any gentleman would be willing to change places with him, and that, as
he had already paid his fare, it would not put anybody who would so
oblige him to further cost.

I at once said, that as my wife was inside, I should be very happy to be
the means of accommodating him, so he mounted on the top of the coach,
and I joined Margaret inside.  Away we went once more rattling along
over the road.  The gentleman, I found, whose seat I had got had no idea
that the coachman was the worse for liquor, but fancied that the rocking
of the coach, which I had observed so palpably from the outside, was
only the usual motion, and that he would be free from it outside.
Suddenly I felt that we were going on much faster than usual.

"What is the matter?" exclaimed Margaret, as clouds of dust arose on
each hand, and we saw people starting aside and looking anxiously after
us as we were whirled along.  "Oh, the horses have run away!"

We heard the passengers hallooing and shouting to the coachman to stop
his horses, to pull up; but he either did not heed them or could not
obey them.  On we dashed at a furious rate.  We saw by the appearance of
some small, red-brick houses, scattered here and there, that we were
approaching a town.  I placed myself by Margaret's side, and held her
tightly down.

On we whirled.  Round went the huge vehicle with a swing.  There was a
terrific crash.  We felt the coach dragged some little way; groans and
shrieks and cries arose around us.  The coach stopped.  The traces had
been cut, and the horses galloped off.  I looked with intense anxiety at
my wife's countenance.  She was pale, but she assured me that she was
unhurt.  I had held her firmly, so as to break the shock when the coach
went over.

People came to help us out, and my wife was conducted into a house close
at hand, to which the owner invited us.  But dreadful indeed was the
scene which met my eyes as I glanced round over the wreck of the coach.
The gentleman who had just changed places with me was lying dead on the
pavement, with three or four other passengers; the old coachman lay a
corpse, mangled horribly by the heels of the horses, over which he had
been thrown, and not one of the passengers had escaped some severe
injury; while the poor guard had his arm broken, and his horn doubled up
under him.

I went into the house, and sat down.  "Wife," said I, "you are right;
God watches over us at sea as well as on land, and accidents may occur
on shore as well as on the ocean.  Why He has thought fit to preserve
us, while others have been allowed to perish, I know not; I can only
take the cup of blessing and be thankful.  I will never again attempt to
escape out of His hand by endeavouring to avoid a possible danger."

The gentleman and his wife were very much interested in the account
Margaret and I gave of ourselves, and invited us to remain a whole day
with them, that she might recover from her fatigue.  It is one of the
pleasantest things in life to thus receive unexpected kindness from
strangers, who can have no thought or hope of recompense.  It is
satisfactory at the time, and makes one think better of the common human
nature which unites us to our fellow-beings.  I told our new friend of
all the shipwrecks I had suffered.

"Ah! there are as many on shore, depend upon it, as on the ocean," he
answered.  "On shore they are the worst, because they occur generally
through our own folly and ignorance and vice.  How many a young man has
started fairly in life, and yet before many years have passed he has
made a complete shipwreck of all the bright promises on which his
friends trusted, with himself alone to blame, because he refused to
consult or to be guided by the only sure chart and compass which could
guide him aright!  For what purpose did the wise King of Israel--the
wisest of the kings of the earth--write his proverbs, do you think?  Not
for his own satisfaction or amusement, but because he felt it a sacred
duty he owed to posterity to give the result of his own meditations, of
his observations, and of his own bitter experience.  Yet how few men,
comparatively, go to that book of books for counsel, for guidance, and
direction?  Where can be found more ample directions for getting on in
life, as the phrase is, for making money, for becoming great in this
world even, than the Book of Solomon affords?"

I agreed with my kind and thoughtful host, and promised to study that
work more than I had ever before done.  I ought to have said that I
would begin and study it--for, alas! how completely had I before
neglected it.

After this extraordinary incident, I believe that had I been near a
port, I should have again embarked for London; but as it was, we agreed
to continue our journey by land.  We reached London in safety.

We did not stay there long.  The bustle and noise, and seeming
confusion, after the complete quiet of our Shetland life, was so
wearying, that, having seen some of the chief lions of that great city,
we were glad to set off by the coach for Portsmouth.

Aunt Bretta was delighted to receive us, and my jovial, kind-hearted
uncle welcomed us most cordially.  I thought Aunt Bretta would never
have ceased asking questions about dear old Shetland.  A stranger would
have supposed from her expressions about it, that there did not exist a
more delightful spot on earth.

Margaret, however, was never weary of replying to all the inquiries
made.  I never saw two people suit each other so well as my aunt and
wife,--the one so hearty, full of life and spirits, and brimming over
with the milk of human kindness,--the other so tranquil, so sensible,
and sweet-tempered.

My uncle and I also got on capitally together.  I admired his jovial,
frank, hearty, and kind disposition, his thorough uprightness and hatred
of deceit, while he found in me enough good qualities to like, and was
pleased because I admired him and was able to talk with him frankly and
openly on all subjects.  That is, I believe, the great secret of
friendship.  Mutual esteem and perfect confidence is the only foundation
on which it can be built up and made perfect.  Both parties to the bond
must feel that they appreciate each other's motives and objects, and
that every allowance will be made for what they say, and the best
possible construction put on their words.  When two people meet between
whom such qualifications exist, their friendship is lasting.

My uncle told me, that as he knew I should not wish to be idle, he had
obtained a situation for me, which he thought I should like, as suitable
to my former habits.

"It is in a private dockyard, where, if you are steady and attentive you
will, I am certain, obtain a still more lucrative employment," he
remarked; "had it been war time I should have tried to obtain an
appointment in the Royal Dockyard, because you would then have had
protection from the pressgang; but now you need have no fear of that."

Two days after that, war again broke out with France!  It was arranged
to our mutual satisfaction that Margaret and I should permanently take
up our abode with our relatives.  They had a couple of spare rooms,
which they had at times let to lodgers, so that we in no way incommoded
them.

Never was there a more happy family party.  We were not over-refined; we
did not set up for people of that sort, it must be remembered, or call
ourselves gentlemen and ladies.  Nor did our guests.  They were,
however, always well-behaved, civil people, who would on no account have
committed any real solecism in good manners.

Old Jerry Vincent used to look in, as before, very frequently, with a
budget of his funny stories, to which other neighbours gladly came to
listen.  There was invariably much laughter, and no small amount of tea
and tobacco consumed, not to speak occasionally of some more potent
compound; but my uncle took good care that none of his guests should
pass the limits of sobriety, though he had at times some little
difficulty in keeping old Jerry in order.  I should remark that old
Jerry was an exception to the general character of our guests, who were
as a rule of a much higher rank in the social scale.  I remember
especially one of the old man's stories which is worth recording.

"You must know, mates," said he, "once upon a time I belonged to a brig
of war on the Newfoundland station.  It isn't just the place, in my
opinion, that a man would wish to spend his life in.  Too much frost and
fog, and wind and rain, to be pleasant.  But bad as it was, I thought
there was a worse place to be in, and that was aboard my own ship.  We
never know when we are well off.  I don't think I was right, do ye see;
but rather, I am very well convinced, that I was a fool.  Young men
sometimes don't find that out till it's too late.  Howsomedever, I found
another fool as big as myself, which is never very difficult when you
look for him, and he and I agreed to run from the ship.  Now, before I
go on with my story, I'll just ask one or two of you young men, have any
of you ever seen the biggest fool in the world?  Well, I thought not;
you can't say that you have, and, what's more, you never will.  If you
think that you have got hold of him, you may be sure that you'll fall in
with a bigger before long somewhere else.  That is my philosophy, and I
am not far wrong, depend on it.

"Well, where was I?  Oh, I know.  My mate's name--t'other fool, I mean--
was Abraham Coxe.  The ship had put into Saint John's, Newfoundland.  He
and I belonged to the same boat's crew.  Soon after we got there we were
sent on shore to water.  After some time, as the rest of our party were
rolling the casks down to the beach, we managed to slip away, and made a
run of it for a mile or more, till we could stow ourselves snug inside
the walls of an old cottage.  As soon as it was dark we came out, and
set off as hard as we could go right into the country.  We thought some
one was following us, but we were wrong.  The officers knew better than
we did what sort of a place we had got into, and calculated that we
shouldn't be long before wishing ourselves back again.

"At night we reached a cottage, where the good people treated us kindly,
for, do ye see, we spun them a long yarn, which hadn't a word of truth
in it, about our being sent away up there to look after a shipmate who
had lost his senses.  So, after we had eaten and drunken and taken a
good snooze, we set off again towards the mountains, for we had a notion
that we should find our way somehow or other into America.  We expected
to fall in with another village, but we were mistaken, and by
dinner-time we began to feel very peckish.  There was no use standing
still, so we walked on and on till we got further up among the
mountains, and as the sun was hid by clouds, and there was no wind, we
very soon lost our way.

"Now, do ye see, to lose your way with a full stomach is not altogether
pleasant, but to lose it on an empty one, and not to know where a dinner
is to be found, is worse any day than to get three dozen.  That's got
quickly over, and you know the worst.  We had no baccy neither, and the
air up there sharpened our teeth till we were ready to bite our tongues
out.

"`Well, mate,' says I to Abraham Coxe, `I wish that I were safe aboard
again.  I don't by no manner of means like these short commons.'

"`Wait a bit till we have been knocking about for two or three days
more, and then cry out, my bo',' says he, for he was a regular Job's
comforter, that he was.

"Well, evening was coming on, and as we couldn't find our way out of the
mountains, nor get any food either, we thought that we might as well
look out for a warm berth to sleep in at night.  At last we saw a small
hole in a rock, which looked like the mouth of a cave.

"`There will be a comfortable bed-place inside that place, mate,' says
I, as I poked my head into the hole, while Abraham stood outside.  It
was almost dark inside, but still there was light enough to make out
that, there was a good big place further in.  I was going along on my
hands and knees, when what should I see but several animals like biggish
pigs crawling about.  I was wondering what they were, when I heard
Abraham Coxe sing out.

"`Quick, Jerry, quick, get out of the cave, for there is a great big
bear coming along the valley, and she's close aboard of us!'

"It was all very well for Coxe to say, get out of the cave; but that was
more than I could do in a hurry without turning round, when I might have
had all the young bears attacking my rump, saving your presence, ladies.
Coxe also didn't stop to help me, but scampered off as hard as his legs
could carry him.  I was going to make the best of my way after him, when
I saw a big white bear not three fathoms off, evidently steering for the
very place itself.

"There was no use trying to get out, for to a certainty the brute would
have grappled me in a moment; so I drew back, thinking to remain
concealed.  Just then I remembered the beasts I had seen inside, and I
guessed that they were the bear's cubs, and that I had taken possession
of her abode.  It was not a pleasant idea, certainly, but there was no
help for it.  In another minute the great big she-bear came snuffing up
to the hole where I lay.  I thought that it was all up with me, and
expected every moment to be made into a supper for the bear and her
cubs.  The little beasts were all the time licking my heels just to have
a taste, I thought, of what was to come.  The bear began to growl, I
fancied because she found me inside; but I believe it was just her way
of talking to her cubs.  Thinks I to myself, I'll have a fight for it;
so I doubled my fists, intending to give her a good lick on the eye
before she ate me, when, just as I thought that she was going to make a
grab at me, she slewed round and began to back into the cave stern
foremost.

"`Ho! ho!' says I to myself, `if you goes to make a stern-board, old
gal, I'll rake you before you shows your broadside to me again;' so on
that I whips out my long knife, which I had tucked away in my belt, with
a lanyard round my neck, and drove it with all my force right into her.
The more she backed, and the louder she growled, the harder and faster I
drove in the knife.  Still she came backing and backing, and I didn't
like the prospect at all.  I thought to myself, `If she drives me up
against the end of the cave, she'll squeeze all the breath out of my
body, to a certainty.'

"At last, however, when she got to the narrowest part of the hole, she
sank down from loss of blood.  I thought she would perhaps begin to move
on again, but she didn't.  After she had given a few growls, which grew
fainter and fainter, I made sure she was dead.

"As I was pretty nigh famished, thinks I to myself, `I'll have some
steaks out of you, old gal, at all events;' so I cut three or four fine
steaks out of her rump (saving your pardon, Mrs Kelson, and ladies
all), and precious juicy and nice to look at they were; but how to dress
them was the job.  At first I thought that I should have to eat them
raw, as I had often done salt beef; but on hunting about on a higher
part of the cave, I found a quantity of dry sticks and leaves which had
served the bears for a bed, I suppose.  Piling up some of them, I struck
a light, and made a fire to dress the steaks, while the young cubs kept
rubbing against me, and couldn't make out whether I was their mother or
their daddy I believe.  I gave them each a bit of steak, which they
seemed to think not bad sucking.

"You see I was inside the cave, though there was just room to look out
over the body of the dead bear, but scarcely space enough for me to have
squeezed myself out if I had wished it.  I didn't just then wish to go
out, for I was very comfortable; I had a dry roof over my head, and
company too, and plenty to eat; only I should have liked a glass of grog
to wash down the food.

"Well, as I was eating the bear's steak, I thought to myself, `It would
have been better for Abraham Coxe if he had stuck to his old shipmate
instead of running away at sight of danger.'

"I had just finished supper, and was thinking of turning in for the
night, when I heard a loud growl at the mouth of the cave.  I made sure
that it was the she-bear come to life again, for I was getting drowsy,
and I began to think what she would say to me for having stolen her
steaks.  However, at last I got up and looked out, and there I saw a
great big he-bear walking about in front of the cave, and I have no
doubt scolding his wife for not getting out of his way to let him in.
At last he began to back astern, but he couldn't make her move.

"`Growl away, my bo',' says I.  `If you keep on at that game, I'll make
steaks of you before long.'

"I sat as quiet as possible, picking my teeth with the point of my
knife, for the steaks were rather tough, you may guess.  The little
bears, playful like, were running about round me, while the old bear was
grumbling away outside, thinking maybe that his wife had taken a drop
too much, and couldn't get up.  All of a sudden I heard a great
hullabaloo, and several shots were fired, and down came the old bear as
dead as a door nail in front of the cave.

"Among other voices, I recognised that of Abraham Coxe.  `My poor mate
is killed, and eaten by the bears,' says he; `but I may as well have his
knife, and his baccy-box and buttons, if they ain't eaten too.'

"`No, I ain't eaten nor dead either, you cowardly rascal, and I hope a
better man nor you may have my traps when I do go,' I sings out, for I
was in a towering rage at being deserted.

"At first the people were going to run away, thinking it was my ghost
that was speaking; but when I sang out again, and told them that I was a
living man, some of them took courage, and came and dragged the two old
bears out of the way.  At last I crawled out, followed by the young
cubs, to the great astonishment of all who saw us.  To make a long story
short, this was the way how the people had come to my rescue.  When Coxe
ran away, not knowing where he went, he ran right into the village,
which was all the time close to us.  When the villagers heard what had
happened, they all came out to have a shot at the bears, not expecting
to find me alive.  They seemed very glad I had escaped, and carried me
back in triumph to the village.  As it was through our means they got
two bears and a number of cubs, they treated us very kindly, and pressed
us to stay with them.  When, however, we found that we should never
reach America by going over the mountains, and as we had no fancy to
spend a winter in this outlandish sort of a place, seeing that the
summer wasn't very pleasant, we judged it best to go back to our ship
and give ourselves up.  We got three dozen a-piece, which I can only say
we richly deserved, and neither of us ever attempted to desert again.
`Let well alone,' I used to say.  `If I do get away, I shall only find
myself before long on board another ship, and worse off than before,
probably.'"

Jerry's advice was very sound.  Many a man deserts to obtain an
uncertain good, and finds, when too late, that he has secured a certain
ill.

Those truly were pleasant evenings at our quiet little house.  I wish
that I could recollect all old Jerry's stories I may perhaps call to
mind a few more another day, for I think that they are well worthy of
repetition.



CHAPTER TEN.

HAPPINESS AT HOME--WAR BREAKS OUT AGAIN--PRESSGANGS ABROAD--MYSTERIOUS
APPEARANCE OF CHARLEY IFFLEY--HIS UNACCOUNTABLE CONDUCT--ANECDOTES ABOUT
SMUGGLERS--THE OLD COUPLE AND THEIR LOST SON--SEA-YARNS.

No happiness could be more complete than ours, and I saw no reason why
it should not be permanent.  Happy it undoubtedly is that we do not see
the dark clouds of adversity gathering in the horizon, yet it would be
wiser in men if they would still recollect that, however bright the sky
and fine the weather, storms may arise, and thick mists may overshadow
them--perhaps sent as punishments, perhaps in mercy to try and purify
them.  I was actively engaged all day in the duties of my office, and in
the evening, when I returned home, I was welcomed by the smiles of my
wife, and the cordial kindness of Aunt Bretta.  I desired no change--I
should have been content to live the same sort of life to the end of my
days.  I had a few little rubs and annoyances to contend with in my
employment, but I did not allow them to vex me, and went on steadily
doing my duty, neither turning to the right hand nor to the left.

War with France had again broken out, and England was making every
effort to renew the struggle with the numerous foes which her prosperity
and greatness had won for her.  A difficulty existed then, as now, in
manning the navy, and the pressgangs were always hard at work
endeavouring to secure by force or stratagem the necessary crew for the
ships.

I knew that I was not exempt from the risk of being taken, but as I
dressed in shore-going clothes, and as I was not likely to meet any of
my old shipmates or other people who knew me to have been a seaman, I
had little fear on the subject.  Had I been single and without the ties
of home, I would gladly have once more gone afloat to serve my country;
but how could I be expected to tear myself from all I loved on earth to
do duty before the mast among rough and uneducated men, subject to all
the rigours of the naval discipline of those days?  I talked the subject
over with my uncle.

"If the time comes when every man who can handle a rope is wanted, I
shall be the first to say `Go,'" said he.  "Till then, my boy, stay at
home, do your duty, and look after your wife."

I was too glad to follow his advice.  There was no grass growing in the
streets of Portsmouth in those days.  The place swarmed with seamen and
officers; troops were marching in and out; carriages-and-four were
dashing down from London; bands were playing; the hotels swarmed with
visitors come to see their friends off; ships were being commissioned
and fitted out with unwonted rapidity; and all was life, activity, and
energy.  I now and then, on my way home, took a walk up High Street, for
the amusement of observing the bustling, laughing, talking, busy throng.

One evening, as I turned to go back, my eye fell on the countenance of a
man whose features I felt sure I knew.  In an instant I recollected that
they were those of Charles Iffley.  Forgetting all I had heard to his
disparagement, I was going to follow him, when he turned into a cross
street among a crowd who were looking on at some itinerant tumblers, and
I lost sight of him.  I felt very sorry, for I should have been glad to
have shaken him again by the hand and invited him to our house.  My wife
and aunt used constantly to walk out a little way on the common to meet
me.

Two days after that, when they met me, they told me that, in the
morning, as they were returning home, they had suddenly encountered
Charles Iffley.  He knew them at once, but did not speak.  He stopped
for an instant, stared hard at them, and then moved on.  When, however,
they reached our house door, they observed that he had followed them at
a distance and remarked where they had gone in.  Just as they had
finished their account, the very person we were speaking of appeared at
the further end of the road coming towards us.  Directly, however, he
saw us, he stopped short and looked at me with an astonished and
inquiring gaze.  He remained long enough, apparently, to ascertain
positively who it was.  At first he evidently was in doubt.  He had
heard of my death, and believed that I was dead, I concluded, and that
when he saw me alive, and, as he might have suspected, married to the
very woman who had refused to become his wife, he at first could not
trust his senses.

My impulse was immediately to run forward to meet him, but my wife
pressed my arm so tightly that I could not leave her.

"No, no, do not go," she whispered.  "I do not like his look.  He means
us mischief."  She must have felt very strongly, I knew, before she
could have given way to such an expression.  Of course, I yielded to her
wish, though it went much against my feelings to turn away from my old
associate, ill as I had too much reason to think of him.  I could not
help agreeing with my wife, as I watched him, that I did not like his
look.  There was something very evil in his expression as he watched us
proceeding towards our home, and I could no longer have any doubt that
he recognised me.  I never before had seen his countenance wear so
malignant an expression, and I feared, not without reason, that even at
that moment he was plotting to do us some mischief.  A picture I had
once seen was forcibly recalled to my memory.  It represented Satan
watching our first parents in Paradise, and when he is envying them the
happiness he can never enjoy, he is considering how he may the most
effectually destroy it.

When we got home, we talked the matter over.  I did not express my own
suspicions to my wife, as they could not fail to agitate her, but I
endeavoured rather to make light of it, and to appear as if I hoped,
should Charles Iffley feel any desire of revenge, that he would be
unable to effect it.  I felt regret, also, that I had not hurried after
Iffley.  Whatever were his feelings, I thought that I might perhaps have
turned his heart to better thoughts by talking of bygone days and of our
early friendship.  "Well, it may not yet be too late," I thought to
myself; "I will seek him out and try to persuade him to discard those
feelings of jealousy and envy which are now influencing him."  When,
however, I mentioned my intentions to Uncle Kelson, he rather laughed at
my notion.

"An idle, conceited young puppy.  What business has he to interfere with
you or yours?" he exclaimed.  "Because a girl, of whom he is utterly
unworthy, does not choose to have anything to say to him, is he to set
himself up and to look daggers at any man she may happen to marry?  Let
him alone.  Let him go his own gait, as your Aunt Bretta would say.
He'll find a rope long enough to hang himself, depend on it."

My uncle thought he was giving good advice, but even at the time I felt
that better is given elsewhere.  "Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed
him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals
of fire on his head.  Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with
good."  I felt that if I could have met with Iffley, I might have heaped
coals of fire on his head.  I might have softened his heart, just as the
contents of a pot are melted by piling up coals, not only around it, but
on the very head or top of it.  I did not do what I felt and knew was
right, and the result of my neglect will be seen.

Aunt Bretta was more indignant than any of us with Iffley.  "If he does
come to the door, in my opinion, he ought to be turned away!" she
exclaimed.  "The idea of a person whom I knew as a little boy, glad to
receive a slice of gingerbread, giving himself such airs!  I have no
notion of it."  This was very severe for Aunt Bretta, whose heart was
kindness itself.

On making inquiries of the servant, she discovered that a man exactly
answering his description had, while they were out, knocked at the door
and asked all sorts of questions.

"She could not mind what exactly," she said.  "They were about Mr
Wetherholm.  Where he had come from!  When he had got married?  What he
was doing?  And all sorts of such like things."  After I had heard this
account of the servant girl, I could not help feeling somewhat
suspicious of Iffley's object.  The mere asking them was very natural,
and had he come frankly forward to meet us, I should not have
entertained any ill thoughts of him; but now, in spite of all my
resolution, I could not help dreading that he contemplated doing me some
mischief or other.  Still I did my best to get rid of such thoughts of
an old friend, for they were not pleasant.

When the evening came, I forgot all about the matter.  Old Jerry Vincent
looked in, and several other friends, among them two former shipmates of
Uncle Kelson's, and anecdotes and stories innumerable were told.  We got
on the subject of smuggling.  In those days it was certainly not looked
on in its proper light, and a smuggler, if he was bold and daring, was
considered a very fine fellow.  Most of our guests were Hampshire or
Isle of Wight men, and had been personally acquainted with many of the
smugglers in their day, and might, perhaps, not have refused to purchase
any of the goods they had to offer.

"Some of you may have known Jim Dore?" began Jerry.

One or two nodded.

"I thought so," said Jerry.  "Well, then, when he began the work he was
very young, and there wasn't a bolder or more daring hand in the trade.
We were boys together, and a braver fellow or better seaman never
stepped.  He was a Yarmouth man, born and bred, just inside the Needles
there.  There was a large family of them.  He wasn't always as prudent
as he might be, and one day he and the cutter he was in was taken with
three hundred tubs on board.  Of course he was sent to serve his
Majesty.  When he found that there was no help for it, he vowed that he
would do his duty like a man, and he kept his word.

"He was sent aboard a brig of war employed in looking after smugglers,
and though before she had never taken one, now scarcely a month passed
that through his means she did not make a prize.

"Once upon a time the brig attacked a large armed smuggler, the crew of
which had vowed that they never would be taken alive.  There was a
desperate fight for more than three hours, and in the end the smugglers
kept their word, for they went down with colours flying, under the guns
of the brig which was just about to board them.  On this occasion, as on
every other, Dore behaved so bravely that the captain put him on the
quarter-deck, and if he had chosen to follow it, there was the road open
to him to become an admiral.  But you know there are people who cannot
give up habits, so to speak, born and bred with them, as one may say.

"Well, Dore's time of servitude was up for the smuggling affair, and
soon after that the brig put into Portsmouth harbour.  The next day Dore
got leave to go and see his friends, so he hired a wherry, and got ready
for a start for Yarmouth.  Just as he was shoving off, I saw him and
asked him for a cast down there, as I had some friends in those days in
the same place.  Now, though he was an officer with a cocked hat on his
head, and a sword by his side, I knew that he was in no way proud, at
all events.  He told me to jump into the boat, by all means.  On our way
down I asked him if he was going to be long away from his ship.

"`Long away, do you say?' he answered, in an indignant tone.  `I'll tell
you what it is, Vincent, it will be long, I'm thinking, before I go back
again.  I've been made an officer of, it's true, but I haven't been
treated as one or looked on as one, because I wasn't born a gentleman,
and slavery in a cocked hat I, for one, will not bear.'

"In that way he talked till we got pretty nearly down to Yarmouth.  At
last he worked himself up into a regular rage, for he was a passionate
man, do you see.

"`Give us a knife, some one of you,' he sang out.

"I handed him mine.  When he got it, he began cutting off the buttons
from his coat.  Then he unbuckled his sword, and took off his hat.  He
jumped up, and holding all the things together, as it were in a lump, he
hove them away into the sea as far from him as he could, uttering at the
same time a loud and deep curse.  `There goes the last link of the chain
that binds me to slavery!' he exclaimed.  `Now, my lads, I'm once more
Jim Dore, the bold smuggler.'

"The men in the boat thought what he had done was very fine, and so did
I in those days, and so we all cheered him over and over again.  When he
landed at Yarmouth, every one turned out to welcome him as if he had
been an admiral just come home after a great victory; and certainly the
people did make much of him.  Those Yarmouth men are great smugglers,
there's no doubt about it.  I don't think, however, myself, as I did in
those days.  Dore was a brave man, and it's a great pity he had not been
taught better, and he might have been an ornament to the service he
deserted.

"When his leave was up, and he did not return, an officer with a boat's
crew was sent to look for him.  He got notice of their coming, and got
stowed out of the way, for there were plenty of people to help him.  He
had to keep in hiding for a long time, and often, I dare say, he wished
himself back aboard the brig.  When the war was over he took to
smuggling again, and he soon got command of a large cutter.  At last he
and some other Yarmouth men went away in her, and from that day to this
have never been heard of.  It is supposed that the cutter was run down
or foundered in a tremendous gale of wind, which sprung up soon after
she was last seen."

One of our friends who came from Poole in Dorsetshire, told us a very
good story, when Jerry Vincent and one or two others sang out in chorus,
"Howe! howe! howe!"

I asked what they meant.

"That is what we always say to a Poole man," answered Jerry.  "Did you
never hear tell of the Poole man and the owl?"

I told him that I never had, and asked him for the story.

"Well, you must know that once upon a time there was a homeward-bound
Poole man just coming up Channel, and not far off the land, when, the
night being somewhat dark, do ye see, an old owl flew by `Howe! howe!
howe!' cried the owl.

"The master, who had been dozing aft, thinking all the time, exactly as
many another man does, that he was wide awake, just heard the sound as
he roused up, and fancied that another skipper was hailing him.

"`From Newfoundland!' he sang out, rubbing his eyes, and dreaming that
he saw the strange ship abeam.

"`Howe! howe! howe!' hooted the owl again.

"`With fish,' answered the Poole man.

"`Howe! howe! howe!' once more cried the old owl, as he was flying off.

"`Over Poole bar with the next tide, please the pigs,' sang out the
skipper at the top of his voice, for fear those in the other craft
wouldn't otherwise hear him.  Nothing would ever persuade him that he
hadn't been talking all the time with the skipper of some outward-bound
craft.

"That's all very well, and it is not a bad story, and may be true, or it
may not; but you Hampshire men are not all of you so very clever,"
answered Mr Bexley, our Poole friend, who had himself been skipper of a
merchantman.  "Have none of you ever heard speak of Botley assizes, eh?"

I asked him what he meant.

"Why," he answered, "you know Botley isn't very far from Southampton.
Once upon a time a party of young chaps belonging to Botley were
returning from a merry-making of some sort, and as it happened, all of
them but one were more than three sheets in the wind.  For some reason
or other, nothing would make this one touch a drop of liquor.  As they
were walking along they began to jeer him, and at last they declared
that he had been guilty of a capital offence, because he had let the
glass pass by, and they agreed that they would try him.  Well, they came
to a place near a wood, where there were a number of trees cut down, and
there they all sat round, and the accused was placed in the middle.  The
most drunk of the party was chosen as judge, and the others were the
counsel, some to accuse and the others to defend him.

"The poor fellow tried to get away, but his friends would not let him.
He, of course, had nothing to say for himself, except that he did not
choose to drink, and the upshot of his trial was that he was condemned
to be hung.

"Unfortunately one of them had a rope with him, and without more ado
they ran up the culprit to the nearest tree.  To be sure, they did
intend to put the rope round his waist, but they were too drunk to know
exactly what they were about, and by mistake slipped it, Jack Ketch
fashion, round his neck.  Having done this wise trick, they all ran
away, shrieking with laughter at the cleverness of their joke.

"They were very much surprised to find, the next morning, that the poor
fellow was missing.  At last they went out to look for him, and found
him hanging where they had left him, but as dead as a church door.

"So, gentlemen, you see that the people in those parts are very clever
chaps, and if you take them at their own value, there are none to be
found like them in all the world.  I have another story for you to prove
this.

"One day a poor Jew fell into the Itchen.

"`Oh, shave me! shave me! vil no one shave me?' he sang out; but of all
the people standing round there wasn't one who would touch him with his
fingers, because they looked on him as a dirty old Jew.

"At last they thought that though he was a Jew it was a shame to let him
drown, so half-a-dozen or more of them ran off to get a rake to haul him
out.  One couldn't find a rake, and another couldn't find a rake; so,
long before they came back, the poor Jew was drowned.  That is the
reason why we say, when a chap is a long time doing a thing that he
ought to have done in a hurry, `He's gone for a rake to haul out the
Jew.'"

"Ay, ay, Mr Bexley, but you know what the Poole man did when his pig
got his head through the bars of the gate?" exclaimed Jerry Vincent,
with a good-natured laugh.  "Why, you see, mates, when he found that he
couldn't haul it out, to save trouble he cut off the beast's head.  Some
people in our parts would have sawed through the bars, but we don't
pretend to be wise, you know.

"I don't mind telling a story against ourselves.  Did any of you ever
hear why the Downton people are called `Moonrakers'?  They themselves
don't mind hearing the story.  Once upon a time, some Downton men had
sunk some tubs in a big pond, and they were hard at work all night
raking them up.  While they were still engaged, who should come by but a
party of custom-house people.

"`What are you doing there, men?' they asked.  `Some mischief, no
doubt.'

"`Oh, no! please, kind gentlemen, we are only trying to rake the moon
out of this pond,' answered the Downton men, quite in a simple voice.
You see that the moon was at the time shining brightly down into the
pond.

"`Oh! is that all?' said the custom-house people, thinking that they
were a few simpletons escaped out of a madhouse.  On went the
custom-house people.  After a little time they came back.  The smugglers
had just got out their last tub.  Some clouds meantime had come over the
moon.  `Well, my men, have you got the moon at last?' said the
custom-house officer.

"`Oh, yes! there's little doubt about it, for it's no longer there.  If
we haven't got it, perhaps you can tell us who has.'

"This made the custom-house people feel sure that they were right in
their conjectures; so on they went, little dreaming of the prize they
had lost."

We all laughed heartily at Jerry Vincent's and Mr Bexley's stories.

"I'll tell you a story, for the truth of which I can vouch," said Uncle
Kelson.  "The circumstance only lately happened.  So, strange as it may
seem, there is no doubt about it.  You all have heard speak of Sir Harry
Burrard Neale, who commands just now the King's yacht, the _Royal
Charlotte_.  The boatswain of her is a friend of mine, and last summer
he got me a cast down to Weymouth, where I wanted to go to see the widow
of an old shipmate I had promised to look after.  We were just clear of
the Needles.  There was a light breeze and a smooth sea, when we made
out a small boat standing towards us, seemingly as if she had come out
of Poole harbour or Swanage.

"`She seems to me to be a fishing-boat, and as if she wanted to speak
us, Sir Harry,' said the first lieutenant, who had been spying at her
through his glass.

"`So I see,' answered the captain.  `There seem to be two people in her
making signals.  It will not delay us much, so heave the ship to, and
let us learn what they want.'

"This was just like Sir Harry.  Many a captain would have stood on and
taken no notice of a poor fisherman's boat, even had there been a dozen
people waving in her.  In a little time the boat came alongside, with a
man and a woman in her, and they were certainly the rummest old couple
you ever saw in your life.

"A midshipman hailed them, and asked them what they wanted.  As well as
we could make out, for they spoke very broad Scotch, they said that they
wanted their son.

"`Let them come aboard,' said Sir Harry kindly, `and we will hear what
they have to say.'

"With no little difficulty, after a good deal of pulling and hauling, we
got the old couple upon deck, and led them aft to Sir Harry.

"`For whom are you inquiring, my good people?' asked the captain.

"`Our bairn, sir--our ain bairn,' answered the old lady.  `For many a
weary week have we been looking for him, and never have our eyes rested
on his bonnie face since the black day, near five long years ago, when
he was carried away from us.  Ah! it was a sair day, sirs.'

"`What is your son's name, my good people?' asked Sir Harry.

"`David, sir--Davie Campbell.  He was so called after his grandfather,
who died in '45, with mony other brave men,' answered the old dame.

"`We have a man of that name on board, sir,' remarked the first
lieutenant to the captain.  `He is in the watch below.  It will be
strange if he should prove to be the man these poor souls are searching
for.'

"`Let him be called on deck, and we will see if they acknowledge him as
their son,' said Sir Harry.  `There must be many hundred David Campbells
in the world, I suspect, so do not raise their hopes too high by letting
them know that at all events we know the name on board.'

"`David Campbell!  David Campbell!' was passed along the decks, and in a
minute a fine active young fellow came tumbling up from below.

"A mother's eye was not to be deceived.  She knew him in an instant, and
toddled off as fast as her legs would carry her, followed by her
husband, to meet him.  `He is, he is my ain bairn!  There's none like
him!' she cried; and not caring a fig for the officers and men standing
around,--before even he knew who she was,--she had him clasped in her
arms, and was covering his cheeks with kisses, while the old father had
got hold of his hand and was tagging away at it just as a man in a hurry
does at a bell-rope.

"Now comes the extraordinary part of the story.  Campbell had been
rather a wildish sort of a chap, and getting into some scrape, had gone
on board a tender, at Leith I think it was, and entered the navy.  He
could not write, and was ashamed to get any one to write for him, so his
old father and mother did not know where he was, or whether he was alive
or dead.

"At last their hearts grew weary at not hearing tidings of him, and they
resolved to set out together to look out for their lost sheep; for you
see they were decent people and well to do in the world, so they had
money to bear the expense, which was not slight.  They had very little
information to guide them.  All they knew was, that their son had gone
on board one of the King's ships.  A mother's deep love and a father's
affection was the only compass by which they could steer their course.
That did not fail them.  They went from port to port, and visited every
ship in harbour, and asked every seaman they met about their son, but
nothing could they hear of him.  At last, that very morning, a waggon
had brought them to Poole, and seeing a ship in the offing, which was no
other than the _Royal Charlotte_, they had got a boatman to take them
out to us.

"That, now, is what I call a providential circumstance; indeed, from all
I have seen and learned since I came into the world, I am convinced that
there is nothing happens in it by chance.  The God of heaven orders all
for the best in kindness to us.  Sometimes, it is true, things do not
occur exactly as we could wish, but that does not alter the rule; for if
we could but see the end, we should discover that the very thing of
which we most complain was in reality most for our good.  Remember that,
nephew, whenever you get into danger or difficulty; be sure that you do
your duty, and all will come right at last.  But I have not told you the
end of my story.

"The Poole boatman was sent on shore, and the traps of the old couple
were handed up on board.  Like canny Scotch people, they had not let
their property remain out of their sight, but had brought it with them.
It was delightful to see their pleasure when Sir Harry invited them to
go on to Weymouth, and to live on board as long as the ship remained
there; and he gave orders to have a screen put up for their
accommodation.  That, too, was just like him.  There is not another man
in the service more considerate or kind to all below him.  All, too, who
know him love him; and his Majesty, I believe, trusts him more, and
loves him more, than he does all his courtiers put together.

"Never have I seen a pair of old folks look more happy, as their son
went about showing them round the ship, and when all the officers and
crew spoke kindly to them as they passed.

"The king, too, when he came on board and heard the story, was very much
interested, and sent for them to have a talk with them.  They did not
know who he was, but when they came out of the cabin they said that he
was one of the kindest old gentlemen they had ever seen; that he had had
a long crack with them all about bonnie Scotland and Scotch people; and
that he had asked them a heap of questions about their adventures.

"You should have seen their look of surprise when they heard that it was
his gracious Majesty himself.  [Note.  Admiral Sir Harry Burrard Neale
was a great-uncle of the author, and the account is given as it was
narrated to him many years ago.] They wanted to go back to fall down on
their knees, and to ask his pardon for talking so freely with him, and
it was not till we assured them that the king talked just in the same
way with any of the crew, that we could quiet them and make them believe
that all was right.

"At last, having assured themselves that their son was well and happy,
they returned with contented hearts to Scotland, and many has been the
long yarn they have spun, I doubt not, about King George and all the
wonders they have seen on their travels."

Every one was very much interested in my uncle's story.  A young man who
was present, a friend of mine, belonging to a revenue cutter, observed,
"We were talking of smugglers just now.  There is no end to the dodges
they are up to.

"Not long ago, soon after I joined the _Lively_, it had come on to blow
pretty fresh, and we had had a dirty night of it, when just as morning
broke we made out a cutter standing in for the land to the eastward of
Weymouth, and about two miles from us.  The wind was from the
north-west, and it had kicked up a nasty sea, running pretty high, as it
well knows how to do in that part of the Channel.

"Our old mate, Mr Futlock, had the morning watch.  It was never his
brightest time, for though he did not actually get tipsy, the reaction
following the four or five pretty stiff glasses of grog which he drank
at night, generally at this time took place.  I was in his watch.

"`Youngster,' said he to me, `hand me the glass, and let us see if we
can make out what that fellow is.'

"I brought him the glass, which was kept hung up in beckets within the
companion-hatch.  I had got my sea-legs aboard pretty well, but I
confess that I felt very queer that morning in certain regions, ranging
from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, and I doubt not looked
very yellow in the cheeks, with every instant an irresistible drawing
down of the mouth, and that worst of signs, a most unyoungsterlike
disinclination to eat.

"Mr Futlock took the glass, and with his lack-lustre eye had a long
look at the cutter, which was bobbing away into the seas, while she kept
her course on a wind as if in no manner of a hurry.

"`She is honest, I believe,' he observed, with a wise nod.  `Probably a
Poole or Exmouth trader; but we must overhaul her notwithstanding.
Shake a reef out of the mainsail, my lads.'

"This was quickly done, and the sail hoisted up.  `Now, keep her away a
couple of points more, and we shall about fetch her.'

"Our mate's orders being executed, away we went tearing through the
foaming, hissing water, now looking, in the morning's pale light, of a
dark, melancholy hue.  The stranger continued on as steady as before.

"`Oh, there's no use in the world giving ourselves the trouble of
boarding her,' muttered Mr Futlock; and he was just going to order the
cutter to be kept on a wind, when we saw the stranger haul up his
foresail, and let fly his jib sheets, evidently intending to wait our
coming.

"`What cutter is that?' shouted old Futlock.

"`The _Polly_ of London, bound for Weymouth,' answered a man, who stood
at the taffrail, through a speaking-trumpet.  `We hove-to, sir, that we
might tell you we have just run over a large number of tubs away there
to the southward.'

"`Thank you, thank you,' shouted Mr Futlock in return, as we ran by and
were soon out of speaking distance.  `I knew that fellow was honest,' he
observed to me, rubbing his hands at the thought of making some
prize-money.  `Come, rouse aft the main-sheet.  We must haul up a little
again.  Can any one see the tubs?'

"There were plenty of busy eyes looking out for the prize, and it was
not long before we discovered them on the weather bow.  By keeping our
luff we were quickly up to them.

"The commander was by this time called, and now came a difficulty.  With
the heavy sea there was running, it was a work not free from danger to
lower a boat.  We first shortened sail; the helm was put down, and the
cutter hove-to, and then, after several attempts by waiting for a lull,
we got the boat with a crew safe in water.

"Mr Futlock jumped into the boat, and pulled towards the tubs which
were first seen, we meantime keeping a bright look-out for any more
which might be floating near.

"Not being accustomed to this sort of work, I felt not a little alarmed
for the safety of my shipmates, as I saw the boat tumbling about among
the white-crested waves.

"Mr Futlock soon got hold of ten tubs, lashed together, and hauled them
into the boat.  A little further on he made a prize of ten more.  This
was no bad beginning.  He was returning with them, having in vain
searched for others, when we made out another collection just ahead of
the cutter.  We soon had them all aboard, though the boat was nearly
swamped alongside.  We hoisted her in at last, and seeing no more tubs,
let draw the foresail, and again stood on.  When at last we looked about
for our communicative friend, he was not visible; but some of the men
said they thought they had seen him standing in for the land.

"We cruised about all the morning in the neighbourhood, but not a tub
more could we discover.  Three days after that we dropped our anchor in
Weymouth roads.  The commander went on shore to communicate with the
officer of the coast-guard on the station.

"`We were looking out for a cutter with a large cargo the other day, but
somehow or other we managed to miss her, and she managed to land every
tub.  We understand that there has not been such a run for years,'
observed the coast-guard officer.

"Something made our commander fancy that she might have been the very
craft we spoke, and which had been so ready with information.

"`A cutter of about fifty tons, with her bulwarks painted yellow
inside?' he asked.

"`The very same,' answered the lieutenant.  `That cunning rascal, Dick
Johnstone, was on board of her himself.  Hearing that we were on the
look-out for his craft, the _Seagull_, he shifted his cargo into her.'

"`Then we were cleverly done!' exclaimed our commander, stamping his
foot with vexation.  `The very fellow old Futlock thought looked so
honest that he would not take the trouble to board him.  It is the very
last time in my life that I will trust to outside appearances.'

"All hands of us aboard the cutter felt very foolish when we found that
we had lost so good a chance of taking one of the richest prizes we were
ever likely to fall in with.  However, revenue officers must have all
their seven senses wide awake to compass the artful dodges of determined
smugglers.  After that, we took very good care to be smart about
boarding every vessel we fell in with."

After the conclusion of this yarn we had several other accounts of
smugglers and their daring deeds.  Some even, it was asserted, had
ventured to defend themselves against king's ships, and had fought
severe actions, one or two having gone down with their colours flying
rather than surrender.  On one point all were agreed, that no smugglers
had ever become permanently wealthy men.  As my uncle observed, they
take a great deal of trouble and undergo great risk to obtain a very
uncertain advantage.

All the rest of the guests were gone; old Jerry remained behind.  We
told him what had occurred in the morning, and I asked him if he could
find out anything about Charley Iffley; what was his rank, and to what
ship he belonged.  I begged him, if he could find him, to take a message
to him from me, and to assure him that far from bearing him any
ill-will, I would gladly welcome him as an old friend.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

OLD JERRY'S REPORT OF IFFLEY--FEARS OF THE PRESSGANG--RESOLVE TO GO
INLAND--COMMENCE OUR JOURNEY--SEIZED BY MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN--IFFLEY'S
TREACHERY--FIND MYSELF ABOARD A MAN-OF-WAR BOUND FOR INDIA--IFFLEY'S
CONDUCT--A GALE--FALL OVERBOARD--SAVED--PUNISHMENT ABOARD--ACCUSED OF
STEALING--SENTENCED TO BE FLOGGED--IFFLEY'S TRIUMPH.

Several days passed by, and I heard nothing of Iffley.  The fears of my
dear wife in consequence at length subsided, and she began to see that,
after all, she had probably thought worse of my old shipmate than he
deserved.  We agreed that he must have been somewhat astonished at
seeing me alive, and the husband of one whom he had hoped to marry
himself, and that chiefly through bashfulness he had not been able to
bring himself to come up and address us.

"Bashfulness!" said Aunt Bretta, when she heard this remark; "I cannot
say that I should ever have given Charles Iffley the credit for a
superabundance of that quality.  However, strange things happen.  He may
have picked it up at sea, or among his associates on shore; but I doubt
it."

So did I, on reflection.  Still, I was glad by any means to calm my
wife's apprehensions, which were the more painful because they were so
very indefinite.  In the evening there was a knock at the door, and old
Jerry Vincent walked in.

"Sarvant, ladies; sarvant all," said he, pulling off his hat to Aunt
Bretta and my wife, who handed him a chair.

"Have you heard anything of that young man we told you of?" asked my
wife.  It was evidently the question she was most anxious to put.

"Yes, I have, marm, and not much good either," was the answer.  "I've
found out that he is aboard the _Royal William_; she's the flagship just
now at Spithead.  He doesn't often come ashore, and that made me so long
hearing of him."

"What is he on board?  Is he an officer?" asked Aunt Bretta.

"An officer, indeed, whew!" exclaimed Jerry.  "Well, he is a sort of
one, maybe.  Not a very high rating, though.  He's neither more nor less
than a boatswain's mate.  What do you think of that, marm?"

"Charles Iffley a boatswain's mate!" said my wife in a tone of pity.  "I
thought he was an officer long ago."

"Well, marm, I made inquiries on board, and among several people who
knew him on shore, and from what I could learn, he would have been an
officer long ago if he had conducted himself well.  He was placed on the
quarter-deck, for you see he has plenty of education, and knows how to
act the gentleman as well as any man.  But there are some men who never
get up the tree but what they slip down again, and never can keep a
straight course long together.  Charles Iffley is of that sort.  For
something or other he did, he got disrated and dismissed the service;
but he entered it again, and, from what I am told, I shouldn't be
surprised but what, if his early history isn't known, he'll work his way
up again.  The thing that is most against him is his extravagance.
Every farthing he makes in prize-money or pay he spends on shore, in
acting the fine gentleman.  People can't, indeed, tell how he gets all
the money he spends.  Of course, if it was known on board the pranks he
plays on shore, his leave would be stopped; but he is so clever that he
humbugs the officers, and they think him one of the most steady and best
men.  You see there's another thing which brings him into favour with
the captain and first lieutenant; he has a knack of finding men and
getting them to join the ship, by making her out to be the most
comfortable ship in the service, and there's no man knows better how to
ferret out seamen, and to lead a pressgang down upon a score of them
together.  I learned all these things from different people, do ye see,
but putting this and that together, I made out my story as I tell it to
you.  To my mind, Charles Iffley is a man I would stand clear of.
Depend on't, he's a deep one."

Jerry Vincent stayed with us some time, and then he said he had an
engagement and must go away.  As he did so he beckoned me out of the
room, and I accompanied him to the door.

"I'll tell you what it is, Mr Weatherhelm," said he, "you have been
bred a seaman, and the pressgangs are very hot at work just now.  They
take everybody who has been at sea, no matter what his present calling--
whether he has a wife and family depending on him or not.  Now Iffley
knows that you have no protection, and he has the power of getting hold
of you.  From what I hear, he's just the man to use it.  If you was his
bosom friend, he'd do it; but if he owes you a grudge, depend on it
he'll not let you slip out of his gripe.  He'd have been down on you
before now, but he got a broken head the other night, in attacking the
crew of a merchantman just come home from a three years' cruise round
the Horn, and had no fancy to be sent off to sea again when they had
only just put their foot on shore.  However, he is now on his legs
again.  If you stay here, you'll hear something of him before long; but
take my advice, just rig out as an old farmer, or a black-coated
preacher, or something as unlike yourself as you can, and take your wife
and go and live away somewhere up in the country.  It's your only
chance.  If you stay you'll be nabbed, as sure as my name is Jerry
Vincent."

I thanked the old man very much for his advice, and replied that I had
no doubt, on consideration, I should follow it.

"Oh, there's a good lad!  Don't be waiting and considering.  There's no
good comes of that.  When a thing is to be done which must be done, go
and do it at once."

"Well, I will, Jerry, I will," I answered, shaking him by the hand.  I
waited at the door, and while I watched him down the street I considered
what course I would pursue.  I was unwilling to tell my wife what he had
said, because I knew it would agitate her very much, and I hoped that
Jerry thought worse of Iffley than he deserved.  Of course, however, I
determined to consult Uncle Kelson, and to abide by his advice.  It was
a serious consideration whether I would, on the mere chance of Iffley's
being able to get hold of me, give up my occupation, in which I was
succeeding so well, and go and live, for I knew not how long, in
comparative poverty, without anything to do.  I made an excuse for
stepping out of the room to talk to Jerry, and my wife did not appear to
suspect that he had had anything more to say about Iffley.  As soon as
she and my aunt had gone upstairs, I told Uncle Kelson all that I had
learned.  He looked graver than usual while he listened to the account.

"Well, he must be a scoundrel if he could do it!" he exclaimed at last,
clenching his fist.  "Still, such things have been done, but I did hope
that no seaman would be guilty of them."  He was silent for some time,
and lost in reflection.  "I'll tell you what, Will," said he at last,
"you must follow old Jerry's advice.  It's sound, depend on it.  That
old man has more wisdom in his little finger than many a man has in the
whole of his head.  Go to your work to-morrow morning, and I'll look
down in the course of the day and see your employer, and explain matters
to him frankly.  He, I have no doubt, will give you leave of absence for
a few weeks, and when you come back you can work double tides.  If you
stay, you see, you'll be lost to him probably altogether."

So the matter was arranged.  I was rather ashamed, however, at the
thought of having to go into hiding, as it were; but still I felt that
my wife's mind would be relieved from apprehension when once I was safe
away out of Portsmouth.  Uncle Kelson had a sister married to a farmer
living in the north of Hampshire, and there we resolved to go.

The next day I went to my work as usual, and my uncle came down and had
a talk with my employer, and the whole matter was arranged to the
satisfaction of all parties.

"Come," said Uncle Kelson, "you had better at once take your places by
the coach, and start to-morrow.  There is no time to be lost."

We found on getting to the coach-office that all the coaches were full.
At that time there was an immense traffic between Portsmouth and London.
A post-chaise was somewhat beyond our means, but we found a light
waggon starting, which took passengers, and Uncle Kelson and I agreed
that this would prove a convenient and very pleasant conveyance, as we
were in no hurry, and would not object to being some time on the road.
It was to start pretty early in the morning.  My dear wife was delighted
at the thoughts of the journey, and speedily made the necessary
preparations.  We sent on our trunk by a wheelbarrow, while we followed,
accompanied by Uncle Kelson.  Even at that early hour the High Street
was astir,--indeed, in those busy times, both during day and night,
something or other was going forward.  We passed several gangs of
men-of-war's men.  Three or four men evidently just pressed, and who
showed a strong disinclination to go and serve their country, were being
dragged along by one of the gangs.  I could not help pitying the poor
fellows; so did my wife.

"Oh, Willand," said she, "how thankful I am that you are not among
them!"

Our waggon was a very nice one, covered over with a clean white tilt,
and our waggoner, I saw at a glance, was an honest, good-hearted
chaw-bacon.  He was dressed in the long white frock, thickly plaited in
front, which has been worn from time immemorial by people of his
calling.  Our trunk and bags were put in; we shook hands with Uncle
Kelson, and having taken our seats just inside in the front part, with
plenty of straw for our feet to rest on, the waggoner whipped up his
four sturdy horses, and we began to move on.  My dear wife pressed
closer to my side, and we began to breathe more freely; she thought I
was safe from the pressgang.  We were just clear of the fortifications,
and were getting into the open country, when I saw the waggoner turn
round once or twice, and look over his shoulder behind him.

"What can they be after?"  I heard him say.  A minute more passed.
"Hillo, men, what does ye want here?" he exclaimed suddenly, as half a
dozen or more seamen sprang forward, and seized the horses' heads, while
others leaped up into the waggon.

"We are looking for a deserter," cried two or three of them.  "Turn out,
my hearty; where are you stowed away?"

I felt, the instant the seamen appeared, that they had come to press me,
but these words revived my hopes of escape.

"There is no one here, my men, besides my wife and me that I know of," I
observed.  "You have made a mistake, I suspect."

"Well, we must look," said the men; "we are not quite so green as to
take your word for it."

"You may look as much as you like, measters," said the waggoner; "you'll
find no one among my goods, unless he's stowed hesself away unknowest to
me."

The seamen began to poke their cutlasses in between the packages, and
would undoubtedly have run any one through who had been inside them.
While they were thus employed, three or four other men came up.

"What are you about, mates?" exclaimed one of them, whose voice I felt
sure I knew.  "The man you want is sitting in the front of the waggon!"

On hearing these words my poor wife uttered a piercing shriek, and fell
fainting into my arms.  She, too, had recognised the voice, though the
speaker had kept out of her sight; it was that of Charles Iffley.  The
seamen instantly sprang on me, and seized me by the arms.

"Hillo, mate, you were going to give us the go-by," said one of them as
they passed a rope round my elbows before I could lift an arm in my
defence.

They literally dragged me from my poor wife.  She would have fallen, but
the waggoner humanely scrambled up into his waggon, and placed her
securely at the bottom of it.  She was still, I saw, completely
insensible.  I scarcely regretted that she was so, for I did not at the
moment foresee the consequences.  The honest carter was in vain
expostulating with the seamen for seizing one whom he considered placed
under his especial charge, to be delivered safe at the journey's end.

"I don't think as how you have any right to take that gentleman; he's no
more a sailor nor I bes," I heard him say.

"Not a sailor!  Why, the man has been at sea all his life till the last
year or so," said Iffley, now coming up, and throwing off all disguise;
"he's, moreover, to my certain knowledge, a deserter from his Majesty's
ship _Brilliant_, so attempt to detain him if you dare."

These words had a great effect on the honest waggoner, who did not
attempt to make any further efforts to detain me.

Generally speaking, the most ruffian-like and least scrupulous of the
crew were employed in the pressgangs, for they often had very brutal
work to perform.  The men into whose hands I had fallen were as bad as
any I had ever met.  They seized me with the greatest ferocity, dragged
me out of the waggon, and would not listen to my prayers and entreaties
to be allowed to wait till my wife came to her senses; and before even I
had time to speak to the waggoner, in spite of all the violent struggles
I made to free myself, they hauled me off along the road as if I had
been one of the worst of malefactors.  In this they were encouraged by
Iffley, who seemed to take a malignant pleasure in seeing me
ill-treated, though he did not himself attempt to lay hands on me.  When
I tried to cry out, I found a gag thrust into my mouth, and thus I was
rendered speechless as well as in every other way powerless.

My captors hurried me away, and with a feeling amounting to agony, I
lost sight of the waggon.  At first it occurred to me that Iffley had
gone back for the purpose, as I dreaded, of speaking to my wife, and
perhaps adding to her misery; but had he entertained such a thought, he
had not dared to face her, for I saw him directly afterwards following
close behind me, encouraging the other men to hasten along.

Though I made all the resistance of which I was capable, in the hopes
that something or other might occur to enable me to free myself, we soon
reached the entrance to Portsmouth.

Instead, however, of proceeding down the High Street, Iffley led the way
down one of the by-streets to the right.  Just as we were passing under
the ramparts I looked up, and there I saw walking up and down, as if to
enjoy the breeze, a person whom I recognised at a glance as Uncle
Kelson.  The moment I saw him, hope revived in my breast.  I could at
all events tell him to go in search of my wife.  Perhaps he might even
find means to liberate me; but when I tried to sing out, the horrible
gag prevented me speaking.  I could only utter inarticulate cries and
groans.

In vain I shrieked.  He did not even turn his head; the sounds were too
common.  He thought, probably, that it was only some drunken seaman, who
had outstayed his leave, dragged back to his ship.

At length, for a moment, he looked round.  I struggled more vehemently
than before.  I fancied that he must recognise me, but, urged by Iffley,
my captors dragged me on faster than ever, and turning a corner we were
hid from his sight.  My strength was now almost exhausted.  I could
offer but a faint resistance.  Hope, too, had abandoned me.  Still I
tried to make myself heard, on the possibility of some one knowing me
and undertaking to carry a message to my uncle and aunt.  People stopped
and looked, but the same idea occurred to all--my frantic gestures made
them believe that I was a miserable drunken sailor.

We reached the water's edge.  I was shoved into a boat with several
other men who had been captured during the night.  They all were sitting
stunned, or drunken, or sulky (or some too probably broken-hearted and
miserable), at the bottom of the boat, not exchanging a word with each
other or with those who had pressed us.  I also fell down stunned and
unconscious.  Who could have discovered the difference between me and my
companions in misfortune?  When I again opened my eyes, I found that the
boat was almost at Spithead.  I tried to sit up to look about me, but I
could not, and, after a feeble attempt to rise, I again sank back, and
once more oblivion of all that had passed stole over my senses.  I had a
sort of dreamy feeling that I was lifted up on the deck of a big ship,
and then handed below and put into a hammock.  Then I was aware that
some one came and felt my pulse and gave me medicine, but I had no power
to think, to recollect the past or to note the present.

At last, by degrees, I found that I was becoming more alive to what was
taking place.  I felt the movement of the ship.  She was heeling over to
a strong breeze.  Then suddenly the recollection of my wife, of the way
I had been torn from her, of the wretchedness I knew she must suffer, of
the uncertainty she must feel for my fate, burst like a thunder-clap on
me, and almost sent me back into the state from which I was recovering.
I groaned in my agony.  I wished that death might kindly be sent to
relieve me of my misery.  But the instant after I felt that such a wish
was impious.

I lay quiet for some time, thinking and praying that strength might be
given for my support.  No, no, I'll try to live, that I may get back to
comfort her.  What joy it would be once more to return to her!  The very
contemplation of such an idea revived me.  "Whatever comes, I'll do my
duty like a man."

"That's right, my lad; that's the proper spirit in which to take our
misfortunes," said a voice near me.

Unconsciously, I had spoken aloud.  I turned round my head, and saw a
gentleman I knew at once was the doctor of the ship.

"I know your story.  You have told me a good deal about yourself while
you have been lying there," he remarked, in a kind voice.  "I pity you
from my heart, and will do what I can for you."

"Thank you, sir, thank you," I answered warmly, and almost melting into
tears, for I was very weak.  "Where are we?  Where are we going?  What
ship is this?  Is Iffley here?"

"One question at a time, my lad, and you will have a better chance of an
answer, as a general rule," he answered, smiling.

He was a Scotchman, and as warm-hearted, generous a man as the north
ever produced, though somewhat peculiar in his manners.  To a stranger
he appeared slow; but, when time would allow it, he knew the advantage
of deliberation.

"First, then, I will tell you that you are on board the _Albion_, and
that we have under our convoy a large fleet of merchantmen.  We are
somewhere to the southward of Cape Finisterre.  What you are thinking
about is, how you can write home to let your wife know what has become
of you.  You'll very likely soon have an opportunity.  Let that comfort
you."  He said all this that he might break more gradually all that was
coming.

"But where are we going, sir?"  I asked, in a trembling voice.

"You may perhaps have an opportunity of getting home," he answered.
"But you see, my lad, we are bound for the East Indies, and shall
probably have a somewhat long cruise of it."

"To the East Indies!"  I cried, my voice sinking almost to a whisper.
"When, when, Margaret, may I ever meet you again?"

"Cheer up, my lad, it's a long road which has no turning, ye ken," cried
the kind doctor.  "Remember your resolution to do your duty like a man.
You'll be well in a few days, I hope."

He did not reply to my question about Iffley.  Somehow or other, I could
not bring myself again to repeat that man's name.  I did not forget the
command to forgive our enemies, but I felt that flesh and blood--the
depravity of human nature--must be struggled with and overcome, before
the divine precept could be obeyed.

Once more I was on my feet again, and a man who attended on the sick
helped me up on deck.  It was a fine day--the sky was blue, the sea was
calm, and some thirty ships, with all their canvas set, were grouped
close around us.  They were huge lumbering tea-chests, as we used to
call Indiamen, but they were fine-looking craft for all that.  The fresh
sea-breeze revived me.  Every hour I felt myself growing stronger and
better.  I looked round for Iffley.  I had a nervous dread of meeting
him, and yet I felt anxious to ascertain that he was on board.

A person may be on board a big ship like the _Albion_ for several days
without meeting another, provided they are not on duty together.  Such
was my case.  I had been for two days on deck, an hour or so at a time,
without seeing the man who had proved himself so bitterly my enemy.  The
doctor told me he thought that in a day or two more I might go to my
duty, and that I should be the better for having work to do.  I looked
forward to work with satisfaction, and begged that I might as soon as
possible be struck off the sick list.  He told me that I should be so on
the following day, and that he would speak to the first lieutenant about
me, as he was a very kind man, and would see that I was not sent aloft
till I had sufficiently recovered my strength.  I thanked him with a
hearty blessing for his kindness and consideration.

The very first man on whom my eyes rested when I went on deck returned
fit for duty was Charles Iffley.  He was going along the deck with his
cat-o'-nine-tails in his hand.  I knew by this that he still held only
the rating of boatswain's mate on board.  My heart turned sick at the
sight; in a moment my vivid imagination pictured all I might have to
suffer at his hands.

He saw me, but pretended not to know me, and went on his way as if I was
a stranger.  I was immediately sent for aft, and found that I had been
entered in the ship's books as an able seaman and a deserter from his
Majesty's ship the _Brilliant_.

"What have you to say to this, my man?" said the captain, looking
sternly at me.

"That I am not a deserter, sir," I answered in a firm voice; and I then
gave him a clear and succinct account of the cutting-out expedition in
Santa Cruz harbour, in which I had been engaged, and the way in which my
life had been preserved on that occasion.

The captain, after a moment's consideration, sent a midshipman down into
his cabin for a printed book.  When it was brought to him he turned over
the pages and asked me a few more questions.  "I find that your account
agrees exactly with the description I here have of the affair, and I
believe you."

I saw Dr McCall, who came up at the moment and heard the captain's
words, look evidently pleased.  They exchanged glances, I thought.  At
all events, I fancied that I had just and kind-hearted superiors, and
that my condition was far better than I might have expected to find it.
Still this reflection could not mitigate the great source of my grief--
my sudden separation from my wife and my ignorance of her fate.  After
this I was placed in a watch, and went regularly about my duty.  I did
my best to perform it, and quickly recovered my strength.

Ours had always been considered a smart ship, and though our captain was
a kind man, he sacrificed a great deal to smartness.  The most active
and bustling men who could make the most show of doing things smartly,
often gained more credit than they deserved.

It was one forenoon my watch below when I heard the cry of "All hands
shorten sail!"  I had been stationed in the fore-top.  I sprang on deck
as fast as my strength would allow, but I had not recovered my usual
activity.  "Fly aloft, there! fly aloft, you lazy scoundrel, or a
rope's-end will freshen your way a bit!"  I heard a voice cry, close to
my ear.  It was Iffley's.  His countenance showed that he was capable of
executing his threats.  My blood boiled.  I could do nothing.  I could
say nothing.  In a moment I understood the bitter enmity which he had
allowed to enter and to rankle in his bosom.  I scarcely dared again to
look at him.  I hurried on.  A sudden squall had struck the ship--
unexpected after the long calms to which we had been subject.  She was
heeling over to her lower deck ports.  The exertion of all hands was
indeed required to shorten sail.  I found Iffley following close after
me.  I sprang up the rigging and quickly reached the fore-top.  I could
not help seeing his face as he came up.  It wore the expression of most
malignant hatred.  "Lay out; be smart about it, my lads!" cried the
captain of the top, as the fore-topsail-yard came rattling down.

In an instant the yard was covered with active forms hurrying out to its
extreme ends.  I made a spring to get out to the weather-earing.  I had
got it in my hand and was hauling on it, when I saw the countenance of
Iffley, wearing the same expression as before, close to me.  There was
now in it a triumphant expression, as if he hoped that his vindictive
feelings were about to be gratified.  Still not a word did he utter.  No
one on board would have guessed that we had ever before met.  I still
kept to my resolution.

The gale came down on us stronger than ever.  The officers were urging
the men to greater speed.  Suddenly I felt the earing in my hand give
way, and before I could grasp at the yard to save myself I lost my
balance, and to my horror found myself falling into the seething ocean
raging beneath me.  A strange, hideous, mocking strain of laughter
sounded in my ears as I fell, and after that I knew no more till I
discovered that I was struggling in the foaming waters.

I had gone down once, but had quickly come up again.  I threw myself on
my back till I had somewhat recovered my senses, and then turned myself
round and kept treading the water while I looked out to see how far I
was from the ship.

Away she flew, close-hauled though, with the foam dancing round her, and
already at some distance.  "And is this to be my fate?"  I thought; "to
die thus a victim to the foul revenge of that man?"

I resolved to struggle for life.  I looked round me on every side.  The
Indiamen were scattered far and wide, none of them were coming up on our
track.  Still I swam on, but I felt how hopeless was the struggle.

Just then my eye fell on a grating, floating not five fathoms from me,
and which had evidently been thrown to me by some one on board, when I
was seen to fall from aloft.  I exerted all my strength, and at length
reached it.  The time appeared to be very long.  It is impossible, on
such occasions, to measure it.  Moments appeared minutes--minutes hours.
I threw myself on the grating in a position to avoid being washed off
it or thrown under it; but it required no slight exertion to hold on.
As the dark seas came rolling up, and breaking, with a loud, crashing
sound, above my head, I felt as if they must inevitably overwhelm me.
Still I did not give up hope.

Unhappy as I had thought myself, I desired life that I might return home
once more and ascertain the fate of my wife.  I prayed that for this
object I might be preserved; that we might once more be united, and once
again be happy on earth.  Even at that moment, surrounded by the boiling
seas, with my ship flying fast away from me, I pictured, with all the
vividness of reality, the unspeakable joy of once again being restored
to her.  I remembered the numberless dangers to which I had been
exposed, and the merciful way in which I had been preserved from them.

Not for an instant did I think of Iffley.  I forgot that he had been the
cause of my present position, and thus I was prevented from harbouring
any feeling of revenge against him.

As I was saying, I could not judge how long I was clinging to the
grating.  Tossed about as I was--now lifted to the summit of a foaming
sea--now sinking down into the trough--I kept my eye constantly turning
towards my ship.

Suddenly I saw the fore-topsail thrown aback--a boat was lowered--my
shipmates were coming to my rescue.  I felt even then that I was to be
saved.  I forgot the distance they had to pull and the heavy sea which
might both endanger them and hide me from their sight.  Still more
eagerly did I try to make out the boat, as she laboured among the
foaming seas.  I caught a glimpse of her as I rose to the top of a wave,
but she was not pulling towards me.  Those in her could not have seen
me.

Then suddenly the horrid thought came across me, that Iffley might have
pretended to have seen where I was and to have guided the boat wrongly.
Then I blamed myself for thinking even Iffley capable of an act so
atrocious.  Still, I thought if he had purposely thrown me into the sea,
he would be as likely to play the foul trick of which I now suspected
him.

Again I sank down into a deep trough of the sea, and could only for a
time distinguish the topsails of the ship above the masses of foam which
flew around.  When I next rose again, there was the boat pulling away
from me.

I shrieked out, I raised my voice louder and louder, as if I could by
possibility be heard.  I might as well have tried to howl down the
hurricane in its fiercest mood.  This was more trying than all that had
gone before.

At length, exhausted by my exertions, I threw myself back on the
grating, scarcely attempting to hold on.  I was then in the trough of a
sea.  In another moment I was raised again to the summit of a sea, and,
though hopeless, my eyes mechanically turned towards the boat.

Some one on board had seen me--she was pulling towards me.  I felt
conscious in a moment how wrong I had been to despair.  I again exerted
all my strength to keep myself on the grating.  I saw some one standing
up in the bows looking out for me.  He pointed to where I floated, that
the helmsman might steer the boat aright.

"Hurra! hurra!"  A shout reached my ears.  I knew that my shipmates had
given it to encourage me.  A few minutes more, and I found myself hauled
into the boat.

The first person on whom my eyes rested was Iffley.  He looked, I
fancied, conscience-struck and defeated.

"Charley said as how he thought he saw you away to the eastward there;
but Tom Potts caught sight of you, and now we know he was right," said
one of the men who were hauling me in.

I was placed in the bottom of the boat, for there was little time in
that heavy sea to attend to me, and she pulled back towards the ship.  I
felt that I was saved.  I did not expect to be much the worse for my
ducking, and I knew when I got back to the ship that the doctor would
look after me.  I had now no doubt that Iffley had endeavoured to
prevent the boat from coming to my assistance.  How bitter must be his
hatred to allow me--his shipmate--to die thus horribly, struggling in
the sea, when he had the power to save me!

As I was helped up the side, I caught his eye fixed on me, and again I
observed that evident look of baffled vengeance which I had before
remarked.  I felt sure that he would take the first opportunity of
giving further proof of his hatred of me.  I did not see any means of
escaping from it.  Had he even spoken to me, I might have expostulated
with him; but he kept aloof as if I were a total stranger to him.  He
carefully avoided even addressing me directly.  I felt sure, indeed,
that had I spoken to him, he would have stoutly denied all former
knowledge of me, and who was to prove it?  No one whom I knew on board.
I felt as if I were pursued by some monster with supernatural powers,
from whom I could not get free.

When I got on board, Dr McCall kindly ordered me to go to my hammock,
and he came and gave me some medicine.  He said that after the illness
from which I had so long been suffering, the consequences might be
serious if I caught cold from my ducking.  However, I turned out the
next morning not in the slightest degree the worse for what had occurred
I resolved to be as attentive and exact in my duty as possible; I wished
to behave thus, at all events; but I also knew that in that case I
should give my enemy less opportunity of injuring me.

Two days after this a man was convicted of stealing on board.  He was
sentenced to receive fifty lashes.  Iffley was one of the boatswain's
mates chosen to inflict the punishment.  The crew were mustered on deck,
and the man was led forward.  He was one of those wretched men who are
both rogues and cowards.

Iffley and the other boatswain's mates stood with their cats, those
dreadful instruments of power, in their hands ready for use.  While
preparations were being made, the miserable wretch looked round on every
side, as if seeking for some one who could save him from the punishment
he was about to receive.  Not a glance of pity did he get from his
messmates.  They knew him too well.  At last he looked towards Iffley.
I saw them exchange glances.  Iffley, of course, did not speak, but his
looks said something which gave the other courage.

"Captain," said the man, turning round to our captain, "you are going to
make the innocent suffer for the guilty.  I wanted to shield a shipmate;
but he will be found out at last, I know, and I shall only suffer
without doing any one any good, otherwise I could have borne the
punishment willingly."

I at the time thought that the man spoke in that whining tone which a
person in spite of himself uses when he is uttering a falsehood, or
saying what has been put into his mouth by another.

"Cast him loose," said the captain; "I'll inquire into this.  Bring him
aft here.  Now tell me at once who is the man who has committed this
theft, if you are not guilty of it."

"I'd rather not say, sir," replied the culprit.  "I don't like to peach
on another.  He'll be found out before the day is over, and then I
shan't be accused of having told of him."

"That excuse will not serve your turn, my man," answered the captain
sternly.  "Unless you can point out the real culprit, you will have to
suffer the punishment awarded you."

"Oh no, sir, I'd rather not.  Do not be hard on me.  I don't like to
hurt another man, even to save myself," again whined out the man.  "Let
me off, sir, let me off, and the real thief will be found--that he will;
you have my word for it."

"Trice him up again," said the captain to the boatswain.  "The true
thief is about to be punished, I am very certain of that."

"I'll tell, sir, I'll tell!" shrieked out the wretched man.  "He's one
who has been skulking his duty ever since he came on board.  I'd rather
not speak his name."

The captain shook his head, and made a sign to the boatswain to proceed.

"Well, if I must tell," cried out the man, Saull Ley by name, "the thief
is Will Weatherhelm."

I almost fainted when I heard the accusation, and I am sure that I must
have looked as guilty as if I had committed the theft.

A triumphant smile flitted across Iffley's features, and he passed the
knotted tails of his cat, as if mechanically, through his fingers, while
he cast a glance at me which I too well understood.  The captain turned
towards me.

"What is this I hear?" he asked.  "Do you acknowledge the theft,
Weatherhelm?"

"No, sir; certainly not," I answered, with as firm a voice as I could
command, though I felt conscious that it was faltering as I spoke.

"What proof have you that Weatherhelm committed the theft?" asked the
captain of the culprit.

"Because two men, if not more, watched him, and knew that it was him,"
was the answer; and now the man spoke in a firmer voice than I had done,
and I fancied looked more innocent.

"Produce your witnesses," said the captain.

The man hesitated for a minute, and his eye ranged with an uneasy glance
along the lines of men drawn up on deck, as if anxiously scanning their
countenances, for he must have felt that they knew him, and that he was
not generally believed.  At last his eyes rested on two who were
standing together.

"Bill Sykes and Dick Todd saw him, sir; they know all about it.  They'll
tell you; they'll prove I am innocent."

The theft had been committed on the purser's stores.  Some tobacco and
sugar and some other things had been stolen.  Now Saull Ley, the
accused, had been seen coming out of the store-room on one occasion when
the purser's clerk had left the keys in the door for a short time and
gone away.  The purser, on his return, had missed some tobacco and
sugar, and that same evening a small quantity of both those articles had
been found in Ley's possession.

"Stand out, Bill Sykes and Dick Todd, and let me hear what you know
about this matter."

Bill Sykes was a landsman, and had soon shown that he was totally unfit
for a sailor.  Dick Todd had entered as a boy.  He was not worth much,
and had become a great chum of Sykes'.  Still, from the little I had
seen of them, I did not think that they would have been guilty of
falsely accusing a shipmate.  I had therefore little fear of what they
could say against me.

I was, however, somewhat startled when they stepped forward, and Sykes,
as the eldest, began in a clear way to state that he had seen a man,
whom he took to be me, open the door of the purser's room with a key,
and, after being absent for a minute or more, return and lock it.  He at
once knew this was wrong, so he watched what the man he took to be the
thief would next do.  He said that he met with Todd, and told him as a
friend what he had observed.  The thief crept along the deck, and the
two then saw him go to his bag and deposit something which he took out
of his pockets.  Both the men acknowledged that they might be mistaken,
but that they thought that it was me.

"What have you got to say to this, Weatherhelm?" asked the captain.
"You are accused by the mouths of two witnesses."

"The accusation is false, sir," I answered calmly.  "I was not long ago
at my bag, and I observed neither tobacco nor sugar in it.  If you will
send for it, you will find that I speak the truth."

"Very well.  Mr Marvel, take a couple of hands with you, and bring up
Weatherhelm's bag," said the captain, addressing the mate of the lower
deck.

I felt very little anxiety during the time the officer was absent, for I
was sure that nothing would be found among my things.  He soon returned,
bringing the bag.  It was placed before the captain.

"Open it," said he.  It was opened on deck in sight of all the officers
and ship's company.  What was my horror and dismay, to see drawn forth,
wrapped up in a shirt, a large lump of tobacco and a paper containing
several pounds of sugar!  "Now what have you got to say?" asked the
captain, turning to me.

"That I have not the slightest notion how those things came into my
bag," was my prompt answer.

"That is the sort of reply people always give when they are found out,"
said the captain.  "It will not serve your turn, I fear."

"I cannot help it, sir," I replied, with a feeling of desperation.
"Appearances are certainly against me, sir; I know not by whom those
things were put into my bag.  I did not put them in, and I did not know
that they were there."

"You said that another man was a witness of this affair," said the
captain, turning to Ley.  "Who is he?"

Ley began to hum and haw and look uncomfortable.  "I'd rather not say,
sir," whined out Ley, "if it is not necessary."

"But it is necessary," thundered out the captain, evidently annoyed at
the man's coolness and canting hypocrisy.  "Who is he? or you get the
four dozen awarded you."

I had watched all along the countenance of Iffley.  I felt sure that a
plot had been formed against me, and that he was its framer and
instigator.  I saw that he began to grow uneasy at this stage of the
proceedings.

"Who is this other man?" repeated the captain.

Ley saw that he must speak out, or that he would still get the
punishment he was so anxious to escape.  "There he is; Charles Iffley is
the man, sir, who, besides those two, saw Weatherhelm go to his bag and
put the stolen things into it."

"How is this, Iffley?  If you saw a man committing a robbery, it wag
your duty to give notice of it, sir," exclaimed the captain, in an angry
voice, turning towards him.

"I am very sorry, sir," replied Iffley.  "I am aware of what I ought,
strictly speaking, to have done, but I did not like to hurt the
character of a shipmate.  He always seemed a very respectable man, and I
fully believed that I must have been mistaken.  It is only now that the
things are found in his bag that I can believe him guilty."

"You are ready to swear to this?" asked the captain.

"Quite ready, sir, certainly," replied Iffley calmly.  "I add nothing
and withhold nothing on the subject."

Even I was startled by what Iffley said, and the way he said it.  I
could not help supposing that he believed what he said.

"Have you anything more to say in your defence, Weatherhelm?" said the
captain.

"Nothing, sir, except that those men are mistaken.  I can only hope that
they believe what they say," I answered, with a firmer voice than I had
before been able to command.

"I am very sorry for it, and do not just now altogether believe it," I
heard Dr McCall observe as he walked off.  "You will expect your
punishment--six dozen," said the captain.  "Pipe down."

Could a painter at that moment have observed Iffley's countenance, it
might have served him as a likeness of Satan when he is assured that Eve
has fallen.  The officers walked aft, the crew dispersed, and I was
placed under charge of the master-at-arms.

Two days passed by.  How full of agony and wretchedness they were!  The
pain I was to expect was as nothing compared to the disgrace and
degradation.  I who had always borne an unsullied name, whose character
had always stood high both with my officers and messmates, to be now
branded as a thief!  How could I ever face those I loved, conscious of
the marks of the foul lash on my back?  There was no one on board to
speak in my favour; no one who had known me before--and how incapable I
was of the act imputed to me--except Iffley; and he, I felt too well
assured, would do his utmost to destroy me.

The two days passed--no circumstance occurred, as I had hoped it might,
to prove that I was innocent--when the boatswain's call summoned all
hands on deck to witness punishment.  This time I was to be the victim.

The boatswain's mates stood ready.  One of them was Iffley.  He played
eagerly with his cat as I was led forward.  "If come it must."  I
ejaculated, "the Lord have mercy on me--I will bear my punishment as a
man."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

PUNISHMENT INTERRUPTED--PREPARATIONS FOR ACTION--BOAT OFF THE ENEMY--A
CONFESSION--I AM PROVED TO BE INNOCENT--CAPTURE TWO PRIZES--ORDERED HOME
IN ONE OF THEM--DESERTED BY OUR CONSORT--SPRING A LEAK--MUTINY OF
PRISONERS.

"Strip!" said the captain.

I prepared to lay my shoulders bare to receive the lash.

"The Indiamen to windward are signalling to us, sir," shouted the signal
midshipman, turning over the pages of the signal-book.  "An enemy in
sight on the weather-beam."

"Master-at-arms, take charge of the prisoner; punishment is deferred,"
cried the captain, springing on to the poop.

I was led below.  I almost wished that the punishment was over.  I had
nerved myself up to bear it, dreadful as it was, without flinching.  Now
I knew not for how long it might be postponed, but I had no hopes of
escaping it altogether.

In another minute, the stirring cry of "Prepare ship for action!" was
passed along the decks.  Every one in a moment was full of activity.
The cabin bulk-heads were knocked away, fire-screens were put up, the
doors of the magazine were thrown open, and powder and shot were being
handed up on deck.

For some time I was left alone, with a sentry only stationed over me.  I
longed to be set free.  I trusted that I was not to remain a prisoner
during the action which it was expected was about to take place.  I
thought that if I could but send a message to the captain, and entreat
that I might be allowed to do my duty at my gun, he would liberate me
while the action lasted.

For a long time, not an officer came near me.  At length, to my great
satisfaction, I saw Dr McCall.  He was on his way to see that all
proper preparations had been made in the space devoted to his service on
the orlop deck for the reception of the wounded.

"Dr McCall," I cried out to him.  "I would not have ventured to have
spoken to you, situated as I now am, under any other circumstances, but
I have a great favour to ask of you, sir."

He stopped and listened.

"I need not say that I trust you do not believe me guilty, and I would
entreat you to go to the captain and to ask him to allow me to return to
my duty during the action.  Tell him only what you think of me, and he
will, I am sure, give me my freedom till the fight is over.  I do not
wish to avoid punishment, but it would be a double one to remain
manacled here while my shipmates are fighting the enemy."

"I'll go," said the doctor, who had quietly listened to all I said.  "I
do not believe you guilty.  There is little time to lose, though."

How anxiously I awaited the result of my petition!  Every moment I
expected to hear the first shot fired, and to find that the action had
begun.  About three minutes passed.  I fancied six times the period had
elapsed, when a master's mate and two men came below.

"The captain gives you leave, Weatherhelm, to return to your duty," said
the officer.  "He hopes that you will show you are worthy of the
favour."

"Indeed I will, sir," I answered as the men knocked the handcuffs off my
wrists.

"We've a tough job in hand, depend on that."

"Thank you, sir, thank you," I exclaimed, as I sprang to my feet and
followed my liberators to the upper deck, where the sentry joined his
comrades.

The moment I reached the deck I looked out for the enemy.  Just out of
gun-shot appeared a seventy-four gun ship and two frigates.  They were
firing away at the Indiamen, which were still within range of their
guns.  The greater number were, however, clustering together, and
standing down to leeward of us, so that those nearer the Frenchmen were
not idle, and were bravely returning shot for shot.

The three ships came on, the Frenchmen little doubting that we should
continue on the same course we were then holding; but our captain was
determined to get the weather-gage, and just as their shot came aboard
us, he tacked and stood to the northward, which brought the two frigates
nearer to us than the line-of-battle ship.  One of them bravely stood on
till she got close under our guns.  The order was given to fire.  Our
shot took the most deadly effect on her, and she completely heeled over
as our whole broadside went crashing in through her decks and sides.  Of
the three hundred men or more, who an instant before stood up full of
life and strength, fall fifty must have been struck down, many never to
rise again, while her spars and rigging went tumbling down in terrible
confusion over her deck.

Again we tacked, and this brought our starboard broadside to bear on the
second frigate.  While we were especially engaged with the first, she
had fired two or three broadsides at us, and as we tacked she managed to
rake us, to our no little damage.  The success attending our first
effort inspirited us to give due effect to the second.  Every shot we
fired seemed to tell.  Besides numbers of men killed and wounded, the
foremast of the frigate came toppling down on her deck almost before the
smoke which hung around us had cleared away.

Seldom had greater execution been effected in so short a time, but our
ship was thoroughly well maimed, and every one of us had been well
trained at our guns.  We knew what we were about, and had strength to do
it.  Leaving the two frigates almost helpless, we stood on to meet our
larger opponent.  With her, to all appearance, we were thoroughly well
matched.  While we had been engaged with the frigates, she had severely
handled some of the Indiamen.  She had now, however, to look after
herself.

Our captain, as soon as we got clear of the frigates, signalled to the
Indiamen to go and attack them.  This he did in the hope that they would
be prevented from repairing damages and be enabled to escape.  The
Indiamen to leeward, in the most spirited way, instantly began to beat
up towards the frigates.

We had not escaped altogether free of harm.  Though no material damage
had been done to the ship, we had already several men killed and wounded
by the shot from our two first antagonists.  As we closed with the
line-of-battle ship she opened fire on us.  We soon found that we had an
opponent which would require all our strength and perseverance to
overcome, but every man stood to his gun, as British seamen always will
stand when well commanded, however great may be the odds against them.

We passed each other on opposite tacks as the line-of-battle ship stood
on towards the frigates.  As our respective guns were brought to bear,
we discharged them into each other's sides.  We all cheered loudly and
heartily as we saw the result of our fire, but the enemy were not idle.
The shot from their broadside came crashing on board us with fearful
effect, while the marines in the tops, poop, and forecastle, kept up a
heavy fire of musketry.  Blocks and spars came tumbling down from aloft;
splinters were flying in every direction; round shot were whizzing
through the ports and across the decks; the smoke from the guns hung
over us in dense masses, obscuring the sky and scarcely enabling us to
see from one side of the ship to the other.

Many a poor fellow sank to rise no more; numbers were sorely wounded;
the heads of some, the arms and legs of others, were shot away; groans
and shrieks arose from those who were struck, while the rest of the crew
uttered shouts of defiance and anger.  All of us were stripped to the
waist, begrimed with smoke, and often sprinkled with our own blood or
that of our comrades; our handkerchiefs bound round our heads, and our
countenances, with the muscles strained to the utmost, exhibiting the
fierce passions which animated our hearts.

Yet, though I have attempted to describe the scene, no words can do
adequate justice to its savage wildness.  I felt, I doubt not, like the
rest.  In a moment all recollection of the past vanished; I thought only
of punishing the foe, of gaining the victory.  I saw others killed and
wounded near me, but it never occurred to me that at any moment their
fate might be mine.  As our foremost guns had been fired, they had been
instantly run in and loaded, and directly the enemy had passed us,
putting down our helm, we luffed up and passed under her stern, raking
her fore and aft, to the very great surprise of the Frenchmen, who
little expected that we should so quickly again be able to deliver our
fire.

The rapidity with which we worked our guns was the chief cause of our
success.  Instead of tacking, as the enemy fancied we were going to do,
we once more filled and ran after him.  A loud shout burst from our
crew.  The Frenchman's fore-topmast came tumbling down on deck.  We
quickly came up after him and gave him a full dose of our larboard
broadside.

The two frigates, seeing how their consort had been handled, and that
several of the Indiamen were crowding sail towards them, now set all the
canvas they could spread in the hope of making their escape, very
indifferent to the fate of their big consort, whom they seemed to think
was powerful enough to take very good care of herself.  She, meantime,
was signalling to them to remain to render her assistance while she
brought us up towards them.

We, by this time, had been pretty severely handled.  We had fully twenty
killed and twice as many wounded, while several of our spars had been
shot away, and we were much cut up in sails and rigging.  Night, too,
was coming on, and it was important to keep our convoy together.  We
could not tell whether other French ships were near at hand, and if so,
not only we, but many of the merchantmen under our charge might have
been captured.  All these things I thought of afterwards, but not then,
depend on it.  Flushed with our success, we fully expected that we were
going to make all the three Frenchmen strike.  The enemy's
line-of-battle ship sailed well, and she quickly led us up in chase, so
that we were exposed to the fire of her consorts as well as to hers.

Under other circumstances, I believe that our captain was the last man
to have left a victory half won; but just as we were once more getting
within range of the enemy's guns, we hove-to, and he signalled to the
convoy to collect together and to continue their course to the
southward.

All on board were eager to see what was to happen.  We thought that we
were going to make sail after the Indiamen, but we had not yet quite
done with the enemy.  We replied by a loud cheer as the ship's head was
once more kept towards them, and then running along their line we
delivered another crashing broadside into them.  We got something in
return, though, and the shot from all the three ships came more thickly
about us than ever.

Not far from the gun at which I was serving I saw Saull Ley.  Once he
had disappeared, and I thought he had been wounded, but when the firing
ceased he had come back to his gun.  He had evidently attempted the same
trick a second time, when we were once more unexpectedly brought into
action, for a couple of men with rope's ends were driving him back to
his station.  He had no help for himself but to remain, though fear had
rendered his services of very little avail.

At last the shot he so much dreaded reached him, and I saw him struck
down bleeding on the deck.  He shrieked out with terror and pain when he
found himself wounded.

"Oh, help me! help me!  I shall die!  I shall die!  What will become of
me?" he cried out.

"Why, you'll have to go where many a better man has gone before you,"
answered the rest of the crew of his gun, who, on account of his arrant
cowardice, had no feeling of compassion for him.  He was, however,
lifted from the deck and carried below, to be placed under the doctor's
care.

The enemy, who had laid to for us, seeming to consider that nothing was
to be gained by them if they continued the fight, but that they were far
more likely to have to haul down their flags or to be sunk, once more
filled and stood away from us to the northward.  It seemed a question
whether we should follow or not, and I am very certain that no one felt
more regret than did our captain at having to allow the enemy to escape
when he had almost secured the victory.

The property, however, entrusted to his care on board the fleet of
Indiamen was of such vast amount that he could not venture to run the
risk of any disaster.  We had gallantly done our duty by beating off so
far superior a force.  The enemy was in fall flight--we might have
overtaken them--but if we had, and captured them all, we should have so
completely weakened our crew that we could not have ventured to continue
our voyage, and should certainly have had to put into port to refit.
Our helm was accordingly put up, and once more we stood to the southward
after our convoy.

Having to leave the enemy was, I believe, a far greater trial and
exertion of moral courage in our captain, than having to follow and
attack them once more would have been.

Some officers I have known would have gone after them, and perhaps have
risked the loss of the richly-laden merchantmen under their charge.  Our
crew, to a man, felt this, and not a complaint or a growl was heard at
our allowing the enemy to escape.

Darkness soon hid them from our sight.  The battle was over, but our
work was not.  All night long we were busy in repairing damages, and
daylight still found us engaged in the same occupation.  The magazine
was once more closed, the blood-stained decks were washed down, and in
the course of the day the ship resumed much of her wonted appearance,
though it was no easy work to get rid of the traces of the severe
conflict in which we had lately been engaged.

At length the hands were piped below, the watch on deck was set, and the
others allowed to turn in and get some of that rest we so much needed.
Then it was that the recollection of my painful position returned to me.
I was a prisoner released for a time, with a severe punishment hanging
over me.  Suppose even the captain were to remit my punishment, in
consequence of the way in which I knew that I had behaved in the fight,
I should still be loaded with disgrace.  I should be looked upon as a
convicted thief.  Such were the feelings with which I went to my
hammock.  I was just about to turn in, when I heard my name called.

"The doctor has sent for you, Weatherhelm," said the messenger, who was
one of the hospital attendants.  "There is a man dying, and he wants to
see you."

I slipped on my clothes and hurried down to the orlop deck.  I found the
purser, with the chaplain, standing near the hammock of a seaman.  The
surgeon came up at the same time.  "I am glad to see you, Weatherhelm,"
he said in his usual kind way.  "That poor wretch exonerates you from
the charge he made against you, and begged to set you that he might ask
your forgiveness."

I drew near the hammock, and in the features of the dying man I
recognised those of Saull Ley.

"Weatherhelm, I'm a great villain, I know I am," he cried out as soon as
he saw me.  "There's a greater, though, and he put me up to it.  I would
have let you be punished to save my own worthless carcase, and, oh! now
I'm suffering greater pain than ever the cat could give me.  I stole all
the things--I've been telling Mr Nips.  Then we persuaded those two
silly lads that it was you, and when they saw me go and put them into
your bag, they had no doubt about it, and so Iffley made them believe
that they had seen you coming out of the store-room.  That's all about
it.  I've been speaking the truth and nothing but the truth.  But you'll
forgive me, won't you, Weatherhelm, and let me die easy?"

"I forgive you with all my heart, and I believe that I should have
forgiven you even had I suffered the punishment awarded me," I answered.
"I would ask you but one thing.  Why do you fancy that Iffley is
desirous to get me falsely accused?"

"Because he hates you, he told me so," he said.  "He has a long score to
wipe off against you, and he vowed if you escaped him this time, he
would find means, before long, to be revenged on you."

"You hear what the man says," observed Dr McCall to the other officers
present.  "This is what I suspected, but had not the means of proving.
We must not allow that ruffian Iffley to obtain his ends; for ruffian he
is, notwithstanding his plausible manners.  It's an old story--
Weatherhelm would rather it were not told--but there is nothing in it to
do him discredit."

"All I desire, sir, is, that I may be freed from the imputation cast on
me, and that, thanks to your consideration in calling witnesses to hear
this poor man's dying confession, will, I am sure, be done."

"Rest assured of that," remarked the chaplain.  "And now I would say a
few words to Saull Ley.  You spoke of dying with a quiet conscience if
you got forgiveness from the man you might have so cruelly injured, had
you not been struck down by the hand of an avenging God; but you have
not only forgiveness to seek from man, but from One who is mighty to
save, who has the power and the will to wash away all your sins, if you
put your entire faith and trust in Him, and repent you heartily of your
former life."

"I cannot, I dare not.  He wouldn't listen to such a wretch as me.
Don't tell me to go to Him.  Find some other means of saving me--isn't
there?  There must be.  Do tell me of it!"

"There is none--none whatever," answered the chaplain.  "Do not refuse
the only means--a sure means--by which even the greatest of sinners may
be saved."

"Oh, go on, sir, go on; tell me all about it," moaned the unhappy man.
"I've often before now thought of giving up my bad ways.  I wish that I
had done it long ago."

The chaplain looked at Dr McCall, to learn whether he might continue
talking to the wounded man.  The doctor signified that he might, but
that it would be better if there were fewer persons present.

"Yes; but he must first sign the evidence he has given," observed the
purser, who was of necessity a good man of business.  "Not only must the
innocent escape punishment, but the guilty must be punished."

He accordingly wrote down the statement made by the wounded seaman, and,
after reading it to him, put a pen into his hand to sign it.  Ley took
the pen and hurriedly wrote his name.  He did not speak.  Suddenly the
pen fell from his hand--a shudder came over his frame--without a groan
he fell back in his hammock.

"What has happened?" asked the chaplain.

"He has gone to his long account," answered Dr McCall.

Alas! how many die like him, talking and thinking about repentance, and
saying that they will put their trust in Christ, but never go to Him,
never repent!

With a heart truly thankful for the dangers I had escaped and the
mercies vouchsafed to me, I returned to my hammock, and slept more
soundly than I had done for many a night.  The next morning, after
breakfast was over, all hands were piped on deck, and the captain sent
for me.  I found him and all the officers assembled on the quarter-deck.

"I have sent for you, Weatherhelm," said the captain, "to tell you that
I am very glad you have escaped what would have been a very cruel and
unjust punishment.  My lads, you know that this man was accused not long
ago of a very great crime.  I rejoice to say that I have proof,
undoubted, that he is entirely innocent.  The man who accused him is
dead, but he left evidence not only that this man is innocent, but that
a most vile attempt has been made to accuse him falsely.  I know the
man; let him beware that he is not caught in the trap he has laid for
another."

While the captain was speaking, I caught sight of Iffley's countenance.
Again I observed on it that expression of hatred and baffled vengeance,
and when he himself was so palpably alluded to, there was mixed with it
no small amount of craven apprehension.  The stern eye of the captain
ranged over the countenances of the crew, it rested a moment on him.  He
quailed before it.

"Pipe down!" cried the captain.

Those of the crew not on duty went below.  Many of the more steady men
came up to me, and congratulated me on my escape, and I found in a short
time that I had numbers of friends on board.  Had it not been for the
thought of my wife, and of my wish to return home, I should have been
happy.

Iffley never came near me.  He seemed to dread me far more than I
dreaded him.  I could not conceive what harm he could possibly do me now
that he was known, and must have been aware that he was watched.  Still
I felt that it would be wiser to be on my guard against him.

When the excitement of the occurrences I have described had passed away,
a reaction took place, and I once more began to feel the misery of my
position.  It seemed like some horrid dream, and sometimes I almost
hoped that I should awake and find that I was at home all the time, and
that the scenes I was going through were but the effects of a dreadful
nightmare.

I frequently found myself reasoning on the subject, but there was a
vividness and reality about everything which made me too justly doubt
the soundness of my hopes.  I had, before I was pressed, more than once
been afflicted with a dream so like the present reality, that, as I say,
I nearly persuaded myself that I was dreaming now.  I had been torn away
from my wife without being able to tell her where I was going.  I sailed
over strange seas without a kit, and without any preparation for the
voyage; cast upon strange lands among savages, and had barely escaped
with my life; I had wandered about among a variety of extraordinary
scenes, and I had found on awaking that scarcely an hour had passed
since I fell asleep.  But day after day went by, and at length I felt
very well assured that I was not dreaming a dream, but living through
the sad reality.  My great desire was to write home, at least to say
where I was, and that I was well; but no opportunity occurred, not a
homeward-bound ship did we pass.

We had been several weeks at sea, when one morning two sail were
reported in sight from the masthead.  They were standing towards us.
The idea was that they were two homeward-bound English merchantmen.  I
accordingly got ready a letter to send home by one of them to my wife.

As they drew near, however, they showed French colours.  It was clear,
we thought, that they had mistaken us for a French squadron.  We
accordingly hoisted French colours, and they ran on close under our
guns.  We then changed our colours for English, and fired a shot across
their bows.  They were evidently taken by surprise, and did not seem to
know what to do.  We fired another shot to quicken their imagination.
On this they hove-to and hauled down their colours.

Directly afterwards a boat came alongside from each or the strangers.
The masters of the ships apparently were in them.  They came on deck,
and inquired what we wanted, and why we fired at them?  They spoke
tolerably good English, though in the French fashion.

"Why, gentlemen, I am sorry for your sakes to say that war has again
broken out between England and France, and that we purpose to make
prizes of your ships."

The poor Frenchmen looked very indignant, and then very unhappy, and
stamped and swore and plucked the hair in handfuls from their heads.  I
thought they would have gone out of their minds, they seemed so
miserable and furious; but they were allowed to rage on, and no one
interfered with them.

At last our captain observed that it was the fortune of war, and a
misfortune to which many brave men were subject; whereon they re-echoed
the sentiment, shrugged their shoulders, and in ten minutes were
laughing and singing as if everything had turned out exactly as they
could have wished it.

The captain ordered two of the midshipmen to go on board the prizes to
carry them home.  How the sound of the order set my heart beating!  I
had my letter ready to send.  Could I but form one of their crews.  I
could scarcely venture to ask the favour.

Several men were chosen for each vessel.  I understood that their
numbers were complete.  Again my heart sank within me.  My hopes had
vanished.  I was standing with my letter in my hand, when I saw Dr
McCall go up to the captain.  Directly afterwards I was called up.

"I understand, my man," said our captain, "that you have strong reasons
for wishing to return home.  You shall go in one of the prizes; get your
bag ready."

How I blessed him for his kind words.  In ten minutes I was on board the
largest prize.  She was ship-rigged, called the _Mouche_, and bound from
the Isle of France to Bordeaux.  Mr Randolph was the name of the
midshipman sent in charge of her.

As I left the side of the _Albion_, I saw Charles Iffley looking out at
one of the ports.  His features bore more strongly than ever the marks
of hatred and anger, and when he saw that I was for a time beyond his
reach, he shook his fist at me with impotent rage.

The mates and some of the French crews were sent on board the _Albion_;
but two or three blacks and several Frenchmen remained on board the
ships to help to navigate them.  Still we were all together but very
short-handed.

The other prize was the _Nautile_.  She was a very handsome ship, and
soon gave evidence that her sailing qualities were superior to those of
the _Mouche_.

I could scarcely believe my senses when I found myself actually on board
a ship homeward-bound.  I might in a few short weeks once more be united
to my wife, instead of being kept away from her as I expected perhaps
for years.  The sudden turn of fortune almost overcame me.

As I had had some difficulty in believing in the reality of my misery,
now I felt it scarcely possible to trust in the reality of my happiness.
Too great for me seemed the joy.  Yet I never anticipated for a moment
that any evil could possibly be in store for me at the end of my voyage.
I brought what I thought would be the reality clearly before my eyes.
I pictured to myself my wife in our quiet little home, looking out on
the ever-animated waters of the Solent, and the fleets of men-of-war and
Indiamen and large merchantmen of all sorts brought up at Spithead.  I
thought of her, anxiously waiting to receive news of me; and then she
rose up to my sight, as I thought she would be when she received notice
that I had once more returned safe in limb and health to my native land.
I had no doubt that I should be able to pay for a substitute, and thus
be free from the risk of being again pressed and sent to sea.  All
before me appeared bright and encouraging.

Mr Randolph, the officer sent in charge of the _Mouche_, although still
a midshipman, had seen a good deal of service, and was a brave young
man.  He had a difficult duty to perform.  The _Mouche_ turned out a
very slow sailer, and was excessively leaky, so that we always had to
keep three or four hands employed at a time at the pumps.  Of course we
made the Frenchmen do this work, at which they grumbled not a little;
but we told them that had their ship not been leaky, they would not have
had to pump, and that they had no reason to complain.  They did not much
like our arguments, for they said that if we had not made prize of their
vessel, they should have been quietly continuing their voyage.

Including the blacks, there were eight Frenchmen on board, while, with
Mr Randolph, we only mustered seven in all.  We had therefore to keep a
very constant look-out over them, lest they should attempt to take the
vessel from us, a trick which more than once had before been played, and
sometimes with success.

I had always thought Mr Randolph a good-natured, merry, skylarking
youngster; but the moment he took charge of the prize, he became a most
diligent, careful officer.  He was always on deck, always on the
look-out, at all hours of the day and night.

I cannot say so much in favour of the officer who had charge of the
_Nautile_.  He was a mate, and consequently superior in rank to Mr
Randolph.  Unfortunately they had had some dispute of long standing, and
Mr Simon, the mate I speak of, never lost an opportunity of showing his
enmity and dislike to his younger brother officer.  Here we had a
practical example of how detrimental to the interest of the service are
any disputes between officers.

To return, however, to the time when we first got on board our
respective prizes, as they lay hove-to close to the _Albion_.  The
signal to us to make sail to the northward was hoisted from her
masthead, and while she stood away after the tea-chests, we shaped a
course for England.

How different must our feelings have been to those of the unfortunate
Frenchmen, who saw the ships sailing away from them, while they had to
go back to be landed they could not tell where, many months elapsing
before they would again return to their families!

The trade winds were at this time blowing across our course,--indeed
almost ahead, so that we made but very slow progress.  At first we kept
close enough together, though there was no interchange of civilities
between the two crews.  When we were within hail, and the _Nautile_ was
going along with her main-topsail yard on the cap, while we had every
sail set, and our yards braced sharp up, her people jeered and laughed
at us, and called us slow coaches, and offered to give us a tow, and
asked what messages they should take to our wives and families in
England.  This they only did when the officers were below.  We replied
that it was no fault of ours, that if they liked to exchange ships, we
could say the same to them, but that we would not, for we could tell
them that it was not pleasant to be taunted for nothing.

At last Mr Simon, standing one day on his taffrail, speaking-trumpet in
hand, hailed and asked Mr Randolph if he could not manage to make his
ship walk along somewhat faster, for at this rate they would never get
to England.

"Greater haste, worst speed, Simon," answered Mr Randolph.  "I've been
doing my best to make the _Mouche_ move faster, but she's a slow fly,
and I cannot do it.  Besides, she is very leaky, and we have had hard
work to keep her afloat."

"Let her sink, then," answered Mr Simon; "I do not see why she should
be delaying us, and giving us a double chance of being retaken by the
enemy."

"While I live and have a man who will stick by me, I'll stick by the
ship put under my charge," replied Mr Randolph; "still I must beg you
to remain by us.  My own people and I will do our best to keep he
afloat.  When we find we can do so no longer, we will claim your
assistance, and get you to take us on board."

"Oh, is that what you calculate on?  We'll see about it," was Mr
Simon's very unsatisfactory reply.

"We'll trust to you not deserting us," sung out Mr Randolph.  "If a
gale were to spring up, we should have hard work to keep her afloat;
remember that."

"What's that you say?  I can't hear," answered Mr Simon, as his ship
shot ahead of ours.

"He heard well enough, but does not intend to heed, I fear," said Mr
Randolph, turning round and walking hurriedly up and down the deck.  "We
must trust to our own energies, and my lads will stick by me, I know
that."

Our cargo consisted of sugar, coffee, and rice, and other valuable but
bulky articles produced in the East, so that we could not move them to
get at the leaks.  A very steady man, Thomas Andrews, a quarter-master,
was acting as first mate, and he having spoken well of me to Mr
Randolph, I was appointed to do duty as second mate, or, I might say
more justly, to take charge of a watch.  Mr Randolph seemed to put a
good deal of confidence in me, and he now summoned Andrews and me, and
consulted us what it might be best to do towards stopping the leaks.

"It is bad enough now," he observed, "but it will be much worse should a
gale spring up and cause the ship to labour heavily."

Andrews and I offered to hunt about to try and find out where the worst
leaks existed.  We accordingly worked our way down into the bows of the
ship in every direction, at no little risk of being suffocated, and at
length we assured ourselves from the appearance of the planking, which
looked as if the bows had been stove in, that she had run against the
butt-end of a piece of timber.  It seemed a miracle how the ship could
have kept afloat with so large a fracture in her bottom.  We reported
our discovery to Mr Randolph, who descended with us to examine the
danger.

"Well, if the worst comes to the worst, we can but get on board the
_Nautile_," he observed.  "In the meantime, we'll do our best to keep
the old ship afloat."

Mr Randolph directed me to take charge of the ship, and to keep an eye
on the proceedings of the Frenchmen, while he and Andrews, with two men,
descended below with all the planks and carpenter's tools to be found,
to try and repair, as far as they could, the damage.  Night was coming
on, so that it was important to get the work done as speedily as
possible.  I meantime turned my eye every now and then at our consort,
for she was evidently getting further ahead than she was accustomed to
do.  I hoped, however, that she would soon shorten sail or lay to for
us, as she had always done at nightfall.  Still she stood on.

Darkness was coming down rapidly on us, and at length I could scarcely
distinguish her.  I did not like to tell Mr Randolph, for of course
this would only interrupt the work in which he was engaged; but I marked
well the point by the compass in which I had last seen the _Nautile_,
that we might know where to look for her in the morning.

Three hours passed away before Mr Randolph and Andrews returned on
deck.  They said that they had been able to patch up the leak far better
than they expected, and that, if the weather held moderate, we might
hope to carry the ship into Plymouth.

The night passed by much as usual.  The French prisoners had hitherto
behaved very well, and seemed so inclined to be peaceable and orderly
that insensibly our vigilance over them relaxed.  It was my morning
watch on deck, I looked out anxiously for the _Nautile_ when daylight
dawned.  Brighter and brighter grew the day, but in vain I rubbed my
eyes.  Not a sign of her was to be seen.

Mr Simon had, then, cruelly and shamefully deserted us.  Complaints,
and more than complaints, both loud and deep, were uttered.  He knew our
condition,--he knew that we were any moment liable to founder,--and
still he had made sail and left us merely to get home a few days sooner,
or to run some little less risk himself of recapture.  It is very seldom
that I have heard of conduct so selfish in the navy, or, indeed, in the
merchant service.

I do not want to make out that seamen are better than other men, but I
maintain that they are certainly not worse, and that in many respects
they are as honest and free from vice as any other class of men.  One
thing was very certain, we could not hope to overtake him.  We must
therefore take care of ourselves as best we could.  The leak had been
partially stopped, and if we continued to enjoy fine weather, we might
get into port very well; and, as Andrews observed, "The prize is not
always to the strong, nor the race to the swift."  Our consort might run
his head into the very dangers he was so anxious to avoid.

We went on very well for two or three days longer, and then I could not
help remarking that there was a considerable change in the manner of the
Frenchmen.  They were far less obedient and civil than they had been,
and when ordered to perform any duty, they went about it in a sulky,
disagreeable manner.

Mr Randolph, I thought, did not observe the change, but I mentioned the
subject to Andrews.

"I'll keep my eye on the fellows," said he.  "They'll find it rather
difficult to catch a weasel asleep."

A few days after this we fell in with a westerly breeze, which increased
rapidly into a strong gale, and away we ran before it much faster than
the old _Mouche_ had yet been made to fly.

Unfortunately the sea got up, and the ship began to labour very much.
The consequence was, as we had expected, the leak we had patched up once
more burst open, and it became necessary to keep all hands, watch and
watch, at the pumps.  Mr Randolph took his spell like the rest of us,
and no one seemed to work with a more hearty goodwill.

I watched with some anxiety to see what the Frenchmen would do.  First
one of them fell down while working at the pumps, and when we picked him
up he said that he was so ill he could not labour any more, but must go
to his hammock.  Then another followed his example, and then a third,
and a fourth, till only one remained besides the three blacks, who went
on working away as merrily as ever.

The fifth Frenchman seemed suddenly to get into very good humour, and to
exert himself as much as any of us.  Had the gale continued, I believe
that we should all of us really have been knocked up, but happily we
very quickly ran out of it, and once more we had smooth water and a fair
breeze.

While the sea was still running high, the only Frenchman who remained on
deck, as he was coming aft, slipped and fell.  Two of the blacks only
were near him.  They picked him up, while he cried out with pain,
asserting that he had either broken his arm or put it out of joint.  He
insisted on being carried to his hammock, and when Mr Randolph offered
to try and doctor him, he shrieked out and declared that he could not
bear the pain of being touched.  At last we were obliged to let him
alone, and then we had all our five prisoners laid up and apparently
useless.

It thus became more important than ever to try once more to stop the
leak.  Mr Randolph and Andrews accordingly set about it as they had
done the first time, taking with them two hands.  This left only two
others, besides me, on deck, and the three blacks.  Negroes have, I have
always fancied, very little command over their countenances, and if a
person is accustomed to watch them, he will always be able to discover,
almost as easily as he would among a party of children, whether there is
anything in the wind.  Now, as I saw the negroes moving about the decks,
I felt very sure from the roll of their eyes and the way in which every
now and then they exhibited their teeth, that they had a grand secret
among them.  I stepped aft, and telling the man at the helm to be on his
guard, I called Sam Jones, the only other man left on deck, and sent him
down into the cabin to collect all the arms he could find, to load the
pistols and muskets, and to place them just inside the companion-hatch,
so that I could get at them in a moment.

"Now," said I to Jones, "just go forward as if you were thinking of
nothing particular, and then slip quietly down below and tell Mr
Randolph that I think there's something wrong, that he had better be on
his guard and return on deck as quickly as possible.  Do you jump up
again without a moment's delay.  Get a handspike or anything you can lay
hold of, and keep guard over the fore-hatchway, and see that neither the
blacks nor any of the Frenchmen go down there."

"But the Frenchmen, they can't do any harm; they are all sick in bed,"
observed Jones.

"Don't be too certain of their sickness," I observed.  "They may be
sick, but it is just possible that they are shamming, and it is well to
be on the safe side."

Without further delay, Jones went forward to do as I directed him.  I
meanwhile stood by the companion-hatch, ready to hand a musket up to
Thompson, the man at the helm, should occasion arise to require it.  The
Frenchmen, I ought to have said, all slept together in a part of the
hold which was planked off for their accommodation.  I kept watching the
blacks narrowly.  I saw their eyes turned every now and then towards the
main hatchway.  I was convinced that no time was to be lost if bloodshed
was to be prevented.

"A heavy squall coming on," I shouted out.  "Hands aloft and furl
topsails!  Here, Sambo, Julius, Quasha, aloft with you quickly and furl
the main-topsail."  They pretended not to hear me, but once more looked
down the hatchway.  "Do you hear?  Up with you, you scoundrels!"  I
shouted out at the top of my voice, loud enough, I thought, at all
events, for Jones to hear me.  At that moment the heads of three
Frenchmen appeared above the combing of the main hatchway.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

OVERPOWER MUTINEERS--A SUSPICIOUS SAIL--CHASED--CAPTURED BY FRENCH
PRIVATEER--CARRIED INTO SAINT MALO--PLAN FOR ESCAPING--CAROUSE OF
PRIVATEER'S CREW--LA MOTTE'S DANGEROUS EXPEDITION--ESCAPE FROM HARBOUR.

The moment I saw the heads of the Frenchmen, I handed out a musket from
the companion-hatch, and gave it to Thompson, while I took one myself
and levelled it at them.  "Ah, my friends, understand that I will fire
at the first man of you who steps on deck!"  I sang out.  "Return to
your beds, if you are sick, but on deck you must not venture."

Thompson imitated my example, and we both stood with our muskets
levelled and ready to put our threats into execution.  At first the
Frenchmen popped down again very quickly, but gaining courage, they all
five put their heads up again at the same moment.

Looking round and seeing only Thompson and me on deck, they sprang up as
if they were about to make a desperate rush towards us, thinking of
course that they could easily overcome two men.

Telling Thompson to aim at the blacks in the rigging to keep them there,
I covered the foremost Frenchman with my musket.  I could have killed
him on the spot, but I was most unwilling to shed blood except in the
very last necessity.  Once more I sang out.  He continued advancing.

"I have given you ample warning!"  I cried out.  My finger was on the
trigger.

At that moment Mr Randolph, followed by Andrews and the other men,
sprang on deck, and seeing the state of affairs, each of them grasping a
handspike, they ran towards the Frenchmen.

The latter soon saw that their opportunity was lost.  The negroes, for
the sake of being more out of the way, as they fancied, of Thompson's
musket, had climbed as high as they could up the rigging, so that he was
able to hold another Frenchman in check.  The Frenchman nearest to me,
seeing my resolute bearing, and having no fancy for throwing his life
away even for the sake of his companions, very wisely backed against
them, and they seeing Mr Randolph and his party advancing from forward,
to avoid getting their heads broken, leaped precipitately down the
hatchway, whence they had but just before emerged.

Leaving Thompson to keep the blacks aloft with his musket, I sprang to
the hatchway and sang out, "We do not want to do you any harm, but if
you attempt any trick, for our own sakes we must shoot every one of
you!"  I said this because I saw one of them striking away over a
tinder-box, with the intention, I had little doubt, of trying to set the
ship on fire.

Mr Randolph highly applauded me for what I had done.  On looking below
and seeing what the Frenchmen were about, he and Andrews, with Jones and
another man, leaped down among them, and seizing the first they could
lay hands on, lifted him up crop and heels to me.  The move so much
astonished his companions, that they did not come to his assistance; and
another being treated in the same way, we had their forces divided, and
very speedily brought them to terms.  We first lashed the hands of the
two we had on deck behind them, and made them sit down with their backs
against the bulwarks on the starboard side, and then we got up the other
three one by one, and placed them, bound in the same way, on the
opposite side.  Next we called down the blacks, and arranged them round
the mainmast.

"Now, my friends, by all the laws of war you ought to be shot!" said Mr
Randolph.  "We treated you very kindly; we gave you of the best of
everything on board, and in return you have attempted to knock us on the
head, and to take the ship from us.  However, it was natural that you
should wish to recover what was once your own, so that if you will
promise, on the honour of Frenchmen, not to make another attempt of the
sort, we will allow you your freedom during the day-time, on certain
conditions.  Three of you must remain forward, and never come abaft the
foremast unless I call you; and two must never go before the
mizzen-mast; at night we must shut you all up.  I warn you, also, that
as surely as any one of you attempts to infringe these regulations, I
will shoot him.  We are very good friends; I do not bear you the
slightest enmity, but our own safety demands this."

Our prisoners shrugged their shoulders.  "_C'est la fortune de la
guerre_," was the only answer they at first made.  They most of them
understood pretty clearly what Mr Randolph had said; besides, one, who
understood English the best, interpreted to the rest.

Mr Randolph waited a little time.  "Do you agree to my terms?" he
asked.

"_Oui, monsieur_; _oui, oui_," was answered by all of them
simultaneously.

"If I grant you your freedom at once, will you give me your honour to
act as I desire?" asked Mr Randolph.  "I do not wish you to do so while
you sit there bound like slaves."

The idea seemed to take their fancy amazingly, and as soon as we had
unlashed their arms, by Mr Randolph's orders, they got up, and all
together, putting their hands on their breasts, swore solemnly not again
to attempt to retake the ship.  It is impossible to describe their
manner, or the air with which they uttered the words.

They did not seem, however, much to like being kept separate from each
other, but Mr Randolph very wisely would not abate in any way the
regulations he had formed.  He allowed one of them at a time to go into
the caboose to cook, for they did not at all approve of our style of
cooking, and one of them, who spoke English, remarked that it was only
fit for bears and wolves.  We laughed, and observed, in return, that
people have different tastes, and that we had no fancy for the kickshaws
and trifles which satisfied them.  (_Quelque chose_ and _troufles_,
perhaps I ought to have written.)

When a Frenchman is asked what he will have for dinner, he begins by
saying _quelque chose au troufles_, and then goes on to enumerate all
sorts of things, just as an Englishman replies, a mutton-chop or
beefsteak, and finally orders turtle-soup, salmon, and a venison pasty;
not that I can own to having ever been guilty of such a proceeding.

After we had settled with the Frenchmen, we allowed the blacks to come
down, and ordering them into the waist, told them to keep there on pain
of being shot, and on no account to communicate with any one else.
They, grinning, pointed to our muskets, and assured us that while we
kept those in our hands they would most implicitly obey us.

These matters being arranged, we each of us stuck a brace of pistols in
our belts, and hung cutlasses to our sides, while a musket was placed so
that the man at the wheel could get hold of it in a moment.  The rest of
the arms and powder were locked up in the after-cabin.

These precautions were, I am convinced, not greater than were necessary.
When the Frenchmen saw that we had taken them, and that we were wide
awake, they did not dream of breaking their word; but had we exhibited
any carelessness, or any undue confidence in them, the honour they had
pledged would not, I suspect, have resisted the temptation which they
would have felt again to try and take the ship from us.

As it was, all went on very quietly.  We soon got once more into the way
of joking and talking with the Frenchmen, and apparently were on as good
terms as ever, but Mr Randolph every now and then gave us a hint to be
on our guard.

"Don't trust them, my men," said he.  "The more they laugh, and chatter,
and smile, the more they are inclined for mischief, depend on that."

He was right, and I think, considering his youth, that he deserved great
credit for his discretion and judgment; for I believe that many an older
man might have been deceived by the plausibility of their manners and
their apparent cordiality.

Fortunately we had very fine weather, and a fair wind, and in about a
week after the occurrence I have described we struck soundings in the
chops of the Channel.  Our difficulties and dangers, however, were not
over; we had to keep a stricter watch than ever on our prisoners, for
they could tell by the colour of the water that we were near home, and
that if they did not at once regain their liberty they must give up all
hopes of so doing.  We had likewise to keep a constant look-out for
strange sails.  The enemy's privateers abounded, we knew, in the mouth
of the Channel, though their men-of-war were not so fond at the time of
showing themselves in those latitudes where they were very likely to be
picked up by British cruisers.

With the few hands we had on board, we could scarcely hope to make a
successful resistance against any armed vessel; still, when Mr Randolph
asked us if we would stick by him should we fall in with an enemy, we
promised to do our best.

"Never fear, then," said he; "though we might not be able to beat them
off, we'll try and frighten them away.  As we cannot expect the
Frenchmen to help us, we'll make their clothes serve some purpose at all
events."

We had discovered some chests of clothes in the ship, and most of the
prisoners had more than one suit; these we instantly set to work to fill
with straw, and in a short time we had manufactured a crew of forty men
at least.  We rigged out some as officers, and put spy-glasses in their
hands, and, knocking out the flints of some of the muskets, we put them
into the hands of others, and stuck them about the ship.  We then loaded
all the guns and ran them out, and got ready also all the remainder of
the firearms.

"Had the _Nautile_ stuck by us we might have put a very good face on the
matter, whatever craft we might have fallen in with, if she had done as
we have," Mr Randolph observed to me as I stood at the helm.

"It is a pity, sir; but I hope we may still run the gauntlet of our
enemies and get safe into port," I answered; and earnestly, indeed, did
I pray that such might be our lot.

As I drew nearer home, still more intense had become my anxiety to
ascertain the fate of my beloved wife.  I will not here dwell on the
subject.  Sometimes the thought of all she must have suffered on my
account and on her own became almost insupportable.  I felt that it was
wiser not to dwell on it, and yet I could not cast it from me.  My only,
my great resource was prayer--great and supporting it was.  Let any one,
placed as I was, try it, and they will find that I in no way overrate
it.  Whenever I felt the miserable depressing feeling coming on, I fled
instantly to that great source of comfort, of all true happiness, and it
never failed me.

However, as I say, I will not dwell on that subject now.  I may be
inclined thus to write, but all who read may not be in a proper frame of
mind to reflect on the matter, and thus I may perchance do more harm
than good.

As I was saying, we had been keeping a bright look-out, even before we
struck soundings, both day and night.  If the wind should hold fair, in
two or three days we might hope to be in Plymouth Sound.

All hands were talking of home, of those they expected to meet, and of
the delights of a run on shore.  The night was very fine, but towards
morning a thin mist settled down over the sea, and though it did not
obscure the bright stars which glittered overhead, it prevented us from
seeing to any great distance around.  However, we every now and then
hove the lead, and we were convinced that we were in the fairway up
Channel.

At length, when daylight slowly broke, the mist assumed a white, silvery
appearance, the smooth water close alongside could clearly be perceived,
and the mist was seen as it were skirmishing round us, broken away, it
seemed, by our coming against it, and then it grew thicker and thicker,
till the eye could no longer penetrate through it.  We might have been,
for what we could tell, in the centre of an enemy's fleet.  I made the
remark to Mr Randolph.

"Should such be the case, the mist will prove our best friend," he
answered.  "I only wish that it may continue till we get abreast of
Plymouth; it may help us to run the gauntlet of our enemies."

We glided steadily and swiftly on for about an hour or more after this,
with everything set alow and aloft, and studden sails rigged out on
either side, there being a light air from the westward.

Suddenly, I felt a puff of wind from the northward just fan my left
cheek as I stood at the helm.  Again it came, and I had to keep the ship
away to prevent her being taken aback.  We, however, got a pull at the
lee braces, and again kept her on her course without taking in the
studden sails; again the wind came from the nor'ard of west, and most
reluctantly we had to take in all our studden sails, one after the
other, and to brace the yards up on the larboard tack.  Scarcely had we
done so when the breeze increased still more.

I was looking to leeward trying to pierce the mist, when, as if by
magic, a wide rent was made in it.  Upward it lifted, rolling away
rapidly on either side, and revealing in the space thus made clear, a
long, low craft floating in the water, without a stitch of canvas set on
her short stumps of masts.  I pointed her out to Mr Randolph.

"I am afraid that she is mischievous, sir," said I.  "There's a wicked
look about her which does not at all please me.  She is more like a
French privateer than any other craft I know of."

"She is not a big one, at all events," he answered.  "We ought to be
able to tackle her, and our dummies may do us good service by keeping
her at a respectful distance.  However, she may be a Jersey or a
Guernsey-man, they have many lugger privateers.  What do you think,
Andrews?"

"She may be a Jersey-man, but, to my mind, that craft was built and
fitted out in France, whoever now owns her," answered Andrews.
"Weatherhelm ought to know, he has served aboard some of them."

"I am afraid she is French, sir," said I, after I had taken a steady
look at her.  "And whatever she is, there is up sail and after us.  If
the fellow has a quickish pair of heels, he'll very soon cut us off."

While I was speaking, the square-headed sails of the lugger were run up
on her short, stumpy masts.  Above them quickly appeared their topsails,
almost as big as the lower sails, and away she came bowling after us, at
a rate which gave us not the slightest hope of escape, if she should
prove an enemy, unless some bigger friend might appear to assist us.

Now we more than ever felt the desertion of the _Nautile_.  Had she
remained with us, we two together might have been able to give a very
good account of so small an enemy,--indeed, we should probably not have
been attacked.  Our only resource was, however, to put as bold a face on
the matter as we could.  The Frenchmen had not yet come on deck, so Mr
Randolph ordered them to be kept down below that they might not make any
signs to the enemy.  He took the helm, and ordered us to stand to our
guns.  Each of us had a musket by our sides, and he ordered us first to
let fly a volley, and then, without a moment's delay, to fire a
broadside.

We hoped thus to prevent the enemy from discovering the smallness of our
numbers, and we trusted that we might by chance knock away some of his
spars and prevent him from following us.  I could not help admiring the
gallant way in which the little craft dashed on towards us.  It looked
as if we might have run over her, and sent her to the bottom without the
slightest difficulty.

"Be ready, my men," shouted Mr Randolph, as she got within musket-shot
of us.  Leaving the helm, he sprang on the taffrail, and, cap in hand,
waved the lugger off, pointing to his guns as if he was about to fire.

We had meantime hoisted the English ensign to our peak.  The lugger paid
not the slightest heed to his signals, but stood on edging up to us.
Again he waved.  A musket-ball came whizzing by and very nearly knocked
him over.  Had it been sent from a rifle his moments would have been
numbered.  I never saw a cooler or braver young man.

"Give it them, then, my lads, and with a will," he shouted.  "They
think, perhaps, we are not in earnest."

We each of us took steady aim, and, as the men were exposed on the
decks, we believed that we had knocked several of them over.  Some of us
had a couple of muskets, and as we fired one after the other as rapidly
as we could, we hoped that we had given the enemy a respectful idea of
our numbers.  Mr Randolph had three muskets, and as soon as he had
fired them he began to reload, tending the wheel at the same time.

"Now give them a taste of the big guns!" he shouted out.  With a shout
we let fly our whole broadside, but the way in which of necessity we ran
the guns in again to reload might have betrayed us.

We had hoped that after the hot reception we had given the lugger she
would have sheered off, but not a bit of it.  On she came as boldly as
at first, and before we had time to run one of our guns out again she
had come alongside, and hove her grappling-irons aboard us.

To hope to defend ourselves was useless, so retreating aft we rallied
round Mr Randolph, while we allowed the enemy, who swarmed in numbers
up the side, to expend their rage on our dummies.  They seemed highly
amused at our trick, for loud shouts of laughter broke from them when
they discovered the enemy to whom they had been opposed.  As we made no
further resistance, they did not attempt to injure us.  Their officer
came aft and put out his hand to Mr Randolph.

"You are a brave young man," said he, in very fair English.  "You have
defended your ship nobly, and had I not before perfectly known the
number of people you had on board, and your means of defence, you would
have deceived me, and I should have sheered off."

Mr Randolph took the hand offered to him, and thanking the captain of
the French privateer (for such he was) for the good opinion he
entertained of him, inquired how he came to know anything about us.

"I took your consort, the _Nautile_, three days ago, and have ever since
been on the look-out for you," was the answer.  "They told me on board
when to expect you, and how many you were in crew.  When, therefore, I
saw the figures you had dressed up, I watched them narrowly, and seeing
that they did not move, suspected a trick.  But what have you done with
my countrymen?  You have several as prisoners."

Mr Randolph assured him that they were safe, and that we had shut them
up that they might be out of harm's way, and might not interfere with
the defence of the ship.

Altogether, the French captain was so delighted with his success in
capturing us and the rich prizes he had obtained (for we found that he
had already taken several other vessels besides the _Nautile_), that he
promised we might depend upon being treated with every courtesy.  He
then went below and released the other Frenchmen, who were so overjoyed
at their escape from the English prison in which they expected in a few
days to be lodged, that they rushed into the arms of their countrymen,
and such a scene of hugging, and kissing, and shouting, and jabbering I
never before beheld.  We could not tell what they might say of us, and
we were afraid that the tide which had been in our favour might turn,
but they apparently gave a fair report of the way we had treated them,
and our captors were as friendly as before.

No longer time than was necessary was lost.  We Englishmen were
transferred to the lugger, and a few more Frenchmen were sent on board
the ship, and together we stood away before the wind for Saint Malo, on
the French coast.

I need not say that, independently of having to go to a French prison,
how wretched I was at finding in a moment all the hopes I had
entertained of once more returning home completely blasted.  I could
have sat down and wept bitterly, but tears would not come to my eyes.  I
thought my heart would indeed break.

Mr Randolph had been invited into the captain's cabin, and was treated
with every courtesy.  Some of the men had gone forward, but I felt no
inclination to leave the deck.  I sat down on a gun-carriage, turning my
eyes in the direction of the shore on which I had hoped so soon to land,
and which now I might not visit for many a day.  I cannot picture my
wretchedness.  I only hope that none of my readers may feel the same.  I
rested my head upon my hands in a vain endeavour to drive away thought.
It was truly a dark moment of my existence.  I felt even as if I could
not pray.  I had sat thus for some time, when I felt a hand pressed on
my shoulder.

"Willand, is it you--you indeed, lad?" said a voice, in a kindly tone
which I felt I ought to know.

I looked up.  Before me stood a fine, sailor-like looking fellow.  I
scanned his countenance narrowly, and then springing to my feet put out
my hand.  "La Motte, my dear fellow, it is you yourself, I am sure of
it!"  I exclaimed.  "Where did you come from?  How did you find yourself
on board here?"

"I have been to, and come from, all parts of the world since we parted,
and I'll tell you all about that another time," he answered.  "And as to
being on board here, I am a prisoner like yourself.  The craft I
belonged to, of which I was first mate, was captured two days ago and
sent into Saint Malo.  I have no greater reason to be happy than you
have.  However, the Frenchmen treat us very civilly on board, and that
is a satisfaction; we might have been much worse off."

We might indeed, for very often the French privateers treated their
prisoners with great cruelty, robbing them of their money and clothes,
and half starving them.  They were then sent on shore, and thrust into
some wretched, dirty prison, where they were allowed to linger out their
days till the end of the war.  Such we had expected to be our fate.

The Frenchmen believed that the English did not treat their prisoners
any better.  They had a story written by one of their countrymen, a
French officer, who had broken his parole and got back to France, to the
effect that French prisoners were fed in England on horse-flesh and
beans.  He declared that on one occasion the inspecting officer of
prisons rode into a court-yard of a prison, where he left his horse, and
that as soon as he had disappeared, the famished prisoners set upon it,
and tearing the horse to pieces, devoured it and the saddle also; and
that when the officer got back, he found only the stirrup-iron and the
bit in the horse's mouth.

Whatever we may think of the digestibility of the morsels carried off by
the hungry prisoners, the tale seems to have been eagerly swallowed by
the countrymen of the narrator.

La Motte endeavoured to cheer me up, by talking of old times and of our
adventures in the Mediterranean and elsewhere,--indeed, I felt his
presence a very great comfort.  He was of a most cheerful, happy
disposition, and allowed nothing to put him out.

"I was on my way home from the West Indies in a fine brig, the _Ann_,
and I had a little venture on board of my own, with which I hoped to
make a good addition to my fortune, and perhaps, before long, to settle
down and marry.  Well, it's all gone; but what's the use of sighing?
What has happened to me has happened to a thousand other better men much
less able to bear it.  So I say to myself, `Better luck next time.'  I
never can abide those people who sigh, and moan, and groan if any mishap
overtakes them, as if they were the only unfortunate people in the
world.  To everybody they meet they tell their woes, as if nothing else
was of so much consequence.  You are not one of those, Weatherhelm, I
know, nor am I.  Everything comes right in the mill at last, if we will
but wait patiently till the mill turns round."

La Motte rattled on in this way till he talked me into better spirits
again.  At all events, he prevented me from dwelling on my misfortunes.

"Now, in reality, we ought to consider ourselves _very_ fortunate," he
continued.  "We might have been captured by a set of ruffianly fellows,
who would have robbed us and ill-treated us in every way.  Instead of
that, the crew are the best sort of privateer's-men I ever fell in with.
The captain and first mate are very good, kind-hearted men.  They have
both of them been made prisoners themselves, and have spent a year or
more in England.  They tell me that they lore the English, for that they
were treated with the greatest kindness all the time they were in
England, and that they wish to repay that kindness, though I must say
they take an odd way to show their lore by fitting out a vessel to go
and rob them on the high seas; but I suppose that is their profession,
and they cannot help it."

While La Motte was speaking, a fine-looking man came up, and, taking him
by the arm, addressed him as his _bon ami_, and told him that dinner was
ready.

La Motte thanked him, and then told him that I was an old shipmate, and
hoped that he would extend the same kindness to me that he had done to
him.

My new friend was, I found, the mate of the privateer.  He said
certainly, and begged that I would at once come down and join them at
dinner.  At first I was inclined to refuse, as I thought Mr Randolph
would consider me presuming if I was to go and sit down at table with
him; but La Motte, finding that he was a sensible, good-natured young
officer, undertook to explain matters to him.

We found Mr Randolph and the captain already seated at the table.  La
Motte, in a few words, explained that I was an old friend and shipmate
of his, and that if I was not, I ought to be an officer, and hoped that
he would not be offended.

Mr Randolph laughed, and said certainly not, and I soon felt at my
ease.

The Frenchmen were in high glee at the number of prizes they had taken,
and, as they had a fair wind, they folly expected in a couple of days,
at furthest, to be safe within the harbour of Saint Malo.  I knew from
sad experience that there is many a slip between the cup and the lip,
and I hoped that we might yet, before we reached the looked-for harbour,
fall in with a man-of-war or a bigger privateer and be recaptured; of
course I did not give expression to my wishes, but in such a chance my
only hope rested of reaching home.

After dinner I went on deck again, and continued pacing up and down,
anxiously scanning the horizon in the hope of discovering some sail
coming in pursuit of us.  Though I was aware that my presence on deck
could not in any way bring about this result, still I could not tear
myself away again till night closed down upon us.

La Motte then insisted on my coming below.  "I told the Frenchmen
something of your story," said he; "if I had not done so, they would
have thought you discourteous, and your conduct somewhat strange.
However, they now enter into your feelings and pity you heartily."

"I am indeed obliged to you, La Motte," said I.  "But somehow or other I
do not like to have myself talked about.  My feelings appear to me to be
too sacred to be mentioned except to a friend."

"That is very natural and right," he answered.  "But, believe me,
Weatherhelm, I did what was for the best, and I am certain you will
benefit by it."

At last I turned in for the night, and, wearied out with anxiety, fell
asleep.  I was conscious that I was on board the privateer, but I
dreamed that we were chased and overtaken by a ship of war, and that
just as her boat was boarding us we blew up.  Then I found myself, with
many of my companions, floating about in the water, without any ship in
sight or means of escape.

At length I awoke, and the recollection of all that had occurred came
pressing down on my heart like a heavy weight.  Feeling that the cool,
fresh air might revive me, I dressed and went on deck.  It was bitterly
cold, with a sharp northerly breeze blowing, the sky was of one uniform
grey, while the water, which rose and fell without breaking, was of a
dull leaden hue.

No prospect could have been more cheerless and uninviting.  The
_Mouche_, under all sail, was bowling on ahead, (I suspected that the
French crew would have no little difficulty in keeping her afloat) while
the lugger was acting the part of a whipper-in.  I cast my eyes round
the horizon.  Away to the eastward they encountered a sail just rising
above the water.  I watched her for some time, till I was convinced that
she was a large ship, and standing towards us.

At length she attracted the attention of the second mate, who was the
officer of the watch.  He began to eye her somewhat anxiously, and in a
short time he sent down and called up the first mate.  They looked at
their own sails, and then at the stranger, and then at the _Mouche_, as
if consulting what was to be done, and then finally called up the
captain.  They evidently could not at all satisfy themselves as to the
character of the approaching ship.

I anxiously scanned their countenances; as I observed them falling, so
my own hopes rose, that the sail in sight might prove an English ship of
war.  I tried in vain to conceal my own anxiety by walking up and down
the deck, as I had done the day before.

The French officers seemed at length to have decided on some plan which
satisfied them.  The _Mouche_ had already made all the sail she could
carry; she had royals set and studden sails out on either side, while
the lugger followed, under her ordinary canvas, in her wake.  While I
was walking up and down, the first mate joined me.

"Ah, my friend!" said he, in very good English, "you hope the vessel in
sight is a countryman.  That is very natural.  We hope that if she is,
we shall escape her.  We intend to do our best to get away, be assured
of that.  If, however, we are taken, you will remember that all
Frenchmen are not savages, and that we were kind to you when you were
our prisoners."

"Indeed we all shall," I replied.  "I hope, indeed, whenever Frenchmen
fall into the hands of the English, that my countrymen will always treat
them with kindness and consideration."

"That is good; that is the right thing," said the mate.  "If go to war
we must, we need not make it more barbarous than it must be of
necessity."

I was surprised to find these expressions proceeding from the mouth of a
privateer's man.  However, I believe that there were not many people of
his class like him.  I certainly hoped that I might have an opportunity
of showing him that I meant what I said, and that we should very soon
again change our relative positions.

Mr Randolph, and La Motte, and the rest of the English prisoners, soon
afterwards came on deck, and eagerly watched with me the progress of the
stranger.  There seemed to us very little doubt that she would cut us
off before we could possibly reach Saint Malo.

As the day drew on, however, the weather gave signs of changing.  The
wind, which had been blowing steadily from the northward, chopped round
to the north-west, and then to the westward, growing stronger and
stronger, and very quickly kicking up an ugly sea, while thick rain
began to fall, increasing every instant in density.

We Englishmen looked at each other, and as the rain fell thicker, so did
our countenances fall lower and lower.  The change of wind placed the
lugger and her prize to windward, and the stranger far away to leeward,
the thick rain almost shutting her out from sight.

The Frenchmen rubbed their hands, and blessed the wind and the rain, and
commiserated us on our prospects of being carried to France.  All we
could hope was, that it would clear up again before the evening, and
that the wind would shift back into its old quarter.

We waited in vain for the change.  Hour after hour passed by.  The wind
blew great guns and small arms, and the rain came down in dense masses,
which completely shut out the stranger from our sight.  I thought that
probably the Frenchmen would alter their course, but we stood steadily
on, only keeping up a little to be well to windward of our port, in case
the wind should veer round more to the north-west.  Evening at length
came.  It grew darker and darker; and with heavy hearts we prisoners had
to abandon all hopes of rescue.

The night passed away, while it was blowing and raining all the time
till near the morning.  As soon as it was daylight I hurried on deck.
The horizon was clear.  With what eagerness I looked around; not a sail
was in sight!  The English ship, if such she was, finding herself so far
to leeward, had probably abandoned all hope of overtaking us.

At length the coast of France hove in sight.  We looked at it as likely
to prove our home for many a weary day.  It was past noon when we
anchored in the harbour of Saint Malo, and I could not be surprised at
the exultation of the Frenchmen, when they found themselves surrounded
by no less than five prizes, which they had taken in the course of two
or three weeks.

Their friends in numbers came off to welcome them, and brought all sorts
of wines and spirits, and provisions from the shore, far more indeed
than the crew could by possibility consume.  The wine and spirits,
however, seemed to be most welcome, and the crew, having an abundance of
wherewithal to carouse, sat down to make themselves happy.  Never have I
heard a set of human beings jabber away at the rate they did; they
laughed, and sang, and pledged each other without cessation.

La Motte, who was listening to them, told me that they were boasting of
all the deeds they had done, or would do, or had heard of being done,
till they were satisfied that their nation was not only the greatest,
the richest, the wisest, the most happy in the world, but that none ever
had or would come up to her.

Just before dark, the captain took Mr Randolph on shore; but he
observed that he could not take us there, and that we must wait on board
till the following morning.

The first mate came up to La Motte and me, and observed that he should
have to go on shore likewise.  "If you go, remember that you will have
to be shut up in a prison, and that you will not find very pleasant," he
remarked significantly.  He looked aft as he spoke, when we observed
hanging on at the stern one of the boats belonging to the prize.  "Wise
men know how to take a hint.  All I can say is, that I feel most kindly
disposed towards you; and if you land in France, I will do my best to
ameliorate your condition, but that will be but little, remember."

We thanked him cordially for his kindness, and then he called the only
two sober men of the crew, and ordered them to pull him on shore in
another boat.  Of course there was not the slightest doubt as to what he
meant.  The means of escape were offered us.  The only question
remaining was how to make use of them.  The boat hanging on astern was
about 25 feet long.  I had often examined her on board the _Mouche_.
She was in good condition, and not a bad sea-boat, I judged from her
appearance.  Her sails and oars were in her, and I had little doubt that
our good friend the mate had had them put into her on purpose to aid us.
Thus far, all was well, but we had many difficulties still to contend
with.  Our next care was to ascertain who would accompany us in our
adventure.

There were altogether fifteen prisoners remaining on board besides
ourselves.  I knew that I could depend on Andrews, and so I could on
Jones.  They both eagerly jumped at our proposal, and expressed
themselves ready to run all risks for the sake of reaching England.
Their only regret was, that Mr Randolph was not on board to accompany
us.  We concluded that the captain had been compelled to take him on
shore, as English officers were always looked on as great prizes by the
French, and he might have got into trouble had he escaped.

We went quietly round among all the prisoners, and invited them one by
one to join us, with the exception of three or four, who had accepted
the invitations of the Frenchmen to drink with them, and had now as
little sense remaining in their heads as their hosts.

When La Motte and I went up to them to see what could be done, they
could only exclaim, holding up their glasses, "Come here, old fellows!
The Frenchmen's liquor is good, and they are jolly cocks, and we never
wish for better companions.  Come now, take a glass, you'll not taste
finer anywhere."

When we declined joining them, they jeered and laughed at us, and called
us milksops, so that we soon saw that they would in all probability
betray us if we attempted to induce them to join us.

Two men, who were sober, declined, saying that they would rather go to a
French prison than trust themselves in a small open boat in mid-winter
in the Channel.  As they were somewhat sickly, perhaps they were right
in their decision.  They promised, however, to help us as far as they
were able, and vowed that they would rather die than betray us.

The carouse of the Frenchmen continued.  First, they made long speeches
about liberty, equality, and fraternity, and then they sang till they
were hoarse, and then they began hugging each other and shrieking, and
lastly, they got up and danced and skipped and frisked about, till
tripping up their heels they toppled down on deck, and lay sprawling
about unable to move.  Now and then one tried to rise, but all he could
do was to reach a bottle, and to pour a little more liquor down his
throat, which soon finished him off completely, and he, like the rest,
lay utterly senseless and inanimate.

It was now night, and time to make our preparations.  The
privateer's-men's friends had brought on board a large supply of
provisions.  These we set to work to collect, and we calculated that we
should have enough to last us for several days.  But without water we
could not venture to sea.  There was none on deck, so we had to grope
about below to find it.  Great indeed was our satisfaction, therefore,
when we suddenly came upon two breakers, each holding nine or ten
gallons, and full of water.  We soon had them up on deck, and rolled
them to the side, ready to be lowered into the boat.  We now hauled her
up alongside, and got everything we had collected stowed away in her.

"But we must not go without a compass," said La Motte, "I remember
seeing one in the captain's cabin.  I am sure that he would let us have
it.  Perhaps he has left it out on purpose."

Such we had every reason to believe was the case, for in a minute La
Motte returned bringing a well-fitted boat compass, which was just
suited for our purpose.  We also got hold of a lantern and a quantity of
candles, and we threw as many greatcoats and blankets into the boat as
we could collect, for it was bitterly cold, and we had reason to dread
its effects more than anything else.

We should have started at once, but La Motte told us that he had
overheard some of the Frenchmen talking of a guard-boat which came round
the harbour once, at all events, during the night, somewhere about ten
o'clock, and that it would be wiser in us to wait till she had gone by.
Accordingly we veered our boat astern, and agreed to wait till then.

We all went below and lay down, hoping to get a little sleep and rest
before it was time to start.  La Motte volunteered to remain on deck
till the guard-boat came round, and as he spoke French like a Frenchman,
he said that he should lead the officers to suppose that all the
prisoners had gone on shore, and that might prevent them from keeping
any strict watch on the lugger.  He told me also that he was very
anxious on another account.  He had observed a fort which we should have
to pass close by on our starboard hand on going out.  The sentry was
certain to hail us, and unless we could give the password and
countersign, he would, as in duty bound, fire at us, and then give
notice of our escape.  In all probability, boats would be sent in
pursuit of us, and we should be recaptured.  This suggestion came like a
blow, sufficient to upset all our hopes of escaping.

"Well," observed La Motte, "there is only one thing to be done.  I must
find out the watchword and countersign.  There is some risk, but it must
be run."

There was a small boat, a dinghy, belonging to the lugger, which was
sometimes carried aft, but she was now placed inside the long-boat on
deck.  She was so light that two men could easily lift her.  La Motte
said he must have her in the water, and that he would go on shore and
steal up to where any sentinels were stationed, and that he would listen
when the patrols came round to relieve them.  He should thus be certain
to obtain the information he required.  Dangerous as I thought the
adventure, of course I would not hinder him from going, as, could I have
spoken French, I would have gone myself.  Accordingly I helped him to
get the dinghy into the water, which we did without any noise.

"Now, Weatherhelm, my dear fellow," said he, "go and lie down and wait
patiently till I come back; a little sleep will do you good--you want
it."

I thanked him cordially, and wrung his hand as he stepped into the punt,
for my heart misgave me that I should never see him again.  As to going
to sleep, that was, I felt, out of the question; I could scarcely bring
myself to lie down.  I watched the little boat with intense anxiety as
he pulled away towards the shore.  I felt much for him, but I must
confess that for my own sake I was still more anxious for his success.
I was indeed enduring a bitter trial.  May none of those who read my
history have to go through the same!  The thought of being a second time
disappointed in my hopes of returning home, and of learning the fate of
my beloved wife, was more than I could bear.  My movements showed the
agitation of my mind.  Sometimes I sat down on a gun; then I rose and
walked the deck; then I went below and threw myself on a locker in the
cabin; but I was quickly on deck again looking out for La Motte.  Then I
recollected that he was not at all likely to return so soon, so I once
more went below to try and warm my chilled limbs.

Another fear assailed me.  I was afraid that if we delayed, some of the
drunken Frenchmen might recover from their stupor and find out our
project.  All of a sudden another idea occurred to me,--if we got the
watchword, could we not carry the lugger and all her senseless crew away
together?  We might handcuff them all without the slightest difficulty.
I own that for the moment I forgot how ungrateful such an act would be
to her captain and mate, who had treated us so kindly.  While I was
thinking on the subject, Andrews woke up and looked about him.

"Is it time yet for us to be off!" he asked, in a whisper.

"No, not yet.  But I say, Andrews, are you ready to carry a bold project
into execution?"  I asked in a low voice.  I then told him what I had
thought of.  He jumped at the idea.

"With all my heart!" he answered.  "Nothing I should like better.  I
hate these Frenchmen, and as for the drunken rascals on board, we can
soon settle them; if they are likely to be troublesome, as soon as we
get clear of the harbour, we may heave them all overboard."

"What are you thinking about?"  I exclaimed, horrified at the
cold-blooded way in which he spoke of murdering so many of our
fellow-creatures.  Suddenly, the proposal I had made burst on me in its
true light.  Of what black ingratitude should we have been guilty in
depriving the men who had trusted us, of their property; and then, had
we followed the suggestion offered by Andrews, of destroying in cold
blood a number of our fellow-men, who at all events had committed no
crime against us!

"No, Andrews, no!"  I answered, after a little reflection; "I would
rather remain a prisoner than run away with the lugger, even if we could
accomplish the undertaking; much less would I injure any of the poor
fellows remaining on board.  Just consider, what should we say if a set
of Frenchmen treated us in that way?"

"Anything is lawful in war," he answered, not agreeing with my notion.
"The Frenchmen should have kept a better look-out after us."

"You forget that the captain and mate left us intentionally with the
means of escape at our disposal, and which they clearly pointed out to
us.  I am sorry that I even thought of carrying off the lugger, and much
more that I mentioned it to you."

At length I brought Andrews round to see the proposal in the light I
did, and he promised not to mention it to any one else.  Thus
conversing, the time passed by much more rapidly than it had done when I
was left to my own thoughts.  I felt sure it must be getting late.  I
looked at my watch; it was nearly ten o'clock, the hour at which La
Motte had told me the guard-boat made her rounds.  I became very anxious
about him; I felt almost sure that he must have been seized, and if so
he ran a great risk of being considered a spy, in which case he would
have been immediately shot.  We, however, could do nothing; we must sit
still and wait.  There is no greater trial for men than this.  If we had
had any work to do, we could have borne it much better.  It wanted but
ten minutes to ten.

"Some accident must have befallen your old shipmate," said Andrews; "if
he does not come back, we must make the attempt without him.  I marked
well the entrance of the harbour.  If we muffle our oars, and keep close
under the fort, we may slip out without being observed.  Are you
inclined to make the attempt?"

"Certainly," I answered; "I would run any risk to be free.  Ah! what is
that?  I saw something moving on the water.  It is the guard-boat
coming.  What shall we reply?"

"We had better slip down below, and let them hail us till they are
hoarse," replied Andrews.  "But no; that is not the guard-boat; it is
the dinghy."

In another instant La Motte was alongside.  He sprang on board.  "I have
it!" he exclaimed; "but I have had a sharp run for it, and was very
nearly taken.  Even now I am not certain that I am not pursued, I have
been thinking of an explanation to give for being on shore, if I am
found out.  I must pass for a Frenchman belonging to the lugger.  Do you
two go below, and pretend to be drunk, or asleep, like the rest.  There
will be no fear then.  I will call you as soon as the guard-boat has
gone away.  We must all then be ready to start in a moment."

Andrews and I immediately followed La Motte's directions, and going
below threw ourselves on the lockers.  I heard La Motte's measured tread
overhead, as if he was walking the deck as officer of the watch.  I
listened for every sound.  Presently I heard him reply in a clear, sharp
voice, apparently to a hail given from a boat at a little distance.
There could be no doubt that it was the guard-boat.  The answer
satisfied the officers.  Another minute elapsed, and La Motte sprang
down below.  "It is all right, Weatherhelm," he whispered; "the
guard-boat is away, and now is our time to be off.  Call up the other
men."

It was quickly done, and all those who had resolved to venture on the
undertaking were speedily on deck.  We hauled up the boat, and silently
took our seats on the thwarts.  I pulled the after oar; La Motte steered
and acted as captain; indeed, had it not been for him, we could not have
made the attempt.  It was a hazardous affair, for we might have to
encounter another guard-boat, and we had to pass among a number of
vessels on our way to the mouth of the harbour.

"If we are seen, I hope that we may be mistaken for the guard-boat,"
said La Motte, as we were preparing to shove off.  "Now, my lads, shove
off, and try and row as much like Frenchmen as you can."

T