William Henry Giles Kingston

Jack began his story thus:

Of course you’ve heard of Donnybrook Fair, close to the city of Dublin. What a strange scene it was, to be sure, of uproar and wild confusion—of quarrelling and fighting from beginning to end—of broken heads, of black eyes, and bruised shins—of shouting, of shrieking and swearing—of blasphemy and drunkenness in all its forms of brutality. Ay, and as I’ve heard say, of many a deed of darkness, not omitting murder, and other crimes not less foul and hateful to Him who made this beautiful world, and gave to man a religion of love and purity. There the rollicking, roaring, bullying, fighting, harum-scarum Irishman of olden days had full swing for all the propensities and vile passions which have ruined him at home, and gained him a name and a fame not to be envied throughout the world. Often have I wondered whether, had a North American Indian, or a South-Sea Islander, visited the place, he could have been persuaded that he had come to a land of Christian men. Certainly an angel from heaven would have looked upon the assemblage as a multitude of Satan’s imps let loose upon the world. They tell me that the fair and its bedevilments have pretty well been knocked on the head. I am glad of it, though I have never again been to the spot from the day of which I am about to speak.

I remember very little of my childish life. Indeed, my memory is nearly a blank up to the time to which I allude. That time was one of the first days of that same Donnybrook Fair; but I remember that and good reason I have so to do. I was, however, but a small chap then, young in years, and little as to size.

My father’s name was Amos Williams. He came from England and settled in Dublin, where he married my mother, who was an Irishwoman. Her name I never heard. If she had relations, they did not, at all events, own her. I suspect, from some remarks she once let drop which I did not then understand, that they had discarded her because she had become a Protestant when she married my father. She was gentle and pious, and did her utmost, during the short time she remained on earth, to teach me the truths of that glorious gospel to which, in many a trial, she held fast, as a ship to the sheet-anchor with a gale blowing on a lee-shore. She died young, carried off by a malignant fever. Her last prayers were for my welfare here and hereafter. Had I always remembered her precepts I should, I believe, have been in a very different position to what I now am in my old age. My poor father took her death very much to heart. For days after her funeral he sat on his chair in our little cottage with his hands before him, scarcely lifting up his head from his breast, forgetting entirely that he ought to go out and seek for work, as without it he had no means of finding food for himself and me. I should have starved had not a kind woman, a neighbour, brought me in some potatoes and buttermilk. Little enough I suspect she had to spare after feeding her own children.

At length my father roused himself to action. Early one morning, seizing his hat and bidding me stay quiet till his return, he rushed out of the house. He was a stonemason. He got work, I believe, but the tempter came in his way. A fellow-workman induced him to enter a whisky shop. Spirits had, in his early days, been his bane. My mother’s influence had kept him sober. He now tried to forget his sorrow in liquor. “Surely I have a right to cure my grief as best I can,” said he. Unhappily he did not wait for a reply from conscience. Little food could he buy from the remnant of his day’s wages. Thus he went on from day to day, working hard when sober, drinking while he had money to pay for liquor.

Still his affection for me did not diminish. While in his right mind he could not bear to have me out of his sight. Every morning we might have been seen leaving our cottage, I holding his hand as he went to his work; yet nearly as certainly as the evening came round I had to creep supperless to bed. All day he would keep me playing about in his sight, except when any of his fellow-workmen, or people living near where we happened to be, wanted a lad to run on an errand. Then I was always glad of the job. Whenever, by happy chance, he came home sober in an evening, he would take me between his knees, and, parting my hair, look into my face and weep till his heart seemed ready to burst. But these occasions grew less and less frequent. What I have said will show that I have reason to love the memory of both my parents, in spite of the faults my unhappy father undoubtedly possessed.

Several months had thus passed away after my mother’s death, when one afternoon my father entered our cottage where he had left me since the morning.

“Jack, my boy,” said he, taking my hand, “come along, and I will show you what life is.” Oh, had he said, “what death is,” he would have spoken the truth.

I accompanied him willingly, though I saw at a glance that he had already been drinking. Crowds of people were going in the direction we took. For some days past I had heard the neighbours talking of the fair. I now knew that we were bound there. My mother had never allowed me to go to the place, so I had no notion what it was like. I expected to see something very grand and very beautiful—I could not tell what. I pushed on into the crowd with my father as eagerly as any one, thinking that we should arrive at the fair at last. I did not know that we were already in the middle of it. I remember, however, having a confused sight of booths, and canvas theatres, and actors in fine clothes strutting about and spouting and trumpeting and drumming; of rope-dancers and tumblers with painted faces; and doctors in gilded chariots selling all sorts of wonderful remedies for every possible complaint; and the horsemanship, with men leaping through hoops and striding over six steeds or more at full gallop; and the gingerbread stalls, and toy shops, and similar wonders; but what was bought and sold at the fair of use to any one I never heard.

My father had taken me round to several of the shows I have spoken of: when he entered a drinking-booth, and set himself down with me on his knee, among a number of men who seemed to be drinking hard. Their example stimulated him to drink harder than ever, and in a short time his senses completely left him. As, however, even though the worse liquor, he was peaceable in his disposition, instead of sallying forth as many did in search of adventures, he laid himself down on the ground with his head against the canvas of the tent, and told me to call him when it was morning. Some one at the same time handed me a piece of gingerbread, so I set myself down by his side to do as he bid me.

Those were the days of faction fights; and if people happened to have no cause for a quarrel, they very soon found one. The tent we were in was patronised by Orangemen, and of course was a mark for the attacks of the opposite party. My poor father had slept an hour or so, with three or four men near him in a similar condition, when a half-drunken body of men came by, shillelah in hand, looking out for a row. Unhappily the shapes of the heads of most of the sleepers were clearly developed through the canvas. The temptation was not to be resisted—whack—whack—whack! Down came the heavy stick of a sturdy Irishman upon that of my father. “Get up out of that, and defend yourselves!” sung out their assailants. Most of his companions rushed out to avenge the insult offered them, but my father made no answer. Numbers joined from all directions—shillelahs were flourished rapidly, and the scrimmage became general. I ran to the front of the tent and clapped my hands, and shouted with sympathy. Now the mass of fighting, shrieking men swayed to one side, now to the other; now they advanced, now they retreated, till by degrees the fight had reached a considerable distance from the tent.

I then went back to my place by my father’s side, wondering that he did not get up to join the fray. I listened, he breathed, but he did not speak. Still I thought he must be awake. “Father, father,” said I, “get up, do. It’s time to go home, sure now.” I shook him gently, but he made no reply. At length I could hear no sound proceeding from his lips. I cried out in alarm. The keeper of the booth saw that something was wrong, and came and looked curiously into his face. He lifted up my father’s hand. It fell like lead by his side.

“Why won’t father speak to me?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“He’ll never speak again! Your father’s dead, lad,” answered the man in a tone of commiseration.

With what oppressive heaviness did those words strike on my young heart, though at that time I did not fully comprehend the extent of my loss,—that I should never again hear the tone of his voice—that we were for ever parted in this world—that I was an orphan, without a human being to care for me. But though bewildered and confused at that awful moment, the words he had uttered as we left home rung strangely in my ears—“Lad, I’ll show you what life is.” Too truly did he show me what death was. Often and often have I since seen the same promise fulfilled in a similar fearful way. What men call life is a certain road to death; death of the body, death of the soul. Of course I did not understand this truth in those days; not indeed till long, long afterwards, when I had gone through much pain and suffering, and had been well-nigh worn-out. I was then very ignorant and very simple, and I should probably have been vicious also had not my mother watchfully kept me out of the way of bad example; and even after she was taken from me, I was prevented from associating with bad companions.

When I found that my poor father was really dead, I stood wringing my hands and crying bitterly. The sounds of my grief attracted many of the passers-by; some stopped to inquire its cause, and when they had satisfied their curiosity they went their way. At last several seamen, with an independent air, came rolling up near the tent. The leader of the party was one of the tallest men I ever saw. Though he stooped slightly as he walked, his head towered above all the rest of the crowd.

“What’s the matter with the young squeaker there, mate?” he asked in a bantering tone, thinking probably that I had broken a toy, or lost a lump of gingerbread from my pocket.

“His daddy’s dead, and he’s no one to look after him!” shouted an urchin from the crowd of bystanders.

“He’s in a bad case then,” replied the seaman, coming up to me. “What, lad! is it true that you have no friends?” he asked, stooping down and taking me by the hand.

“No one but father, and he lies there!” I answered, giving way to a fresh burst of grief as I pointed to my parent’s corpse.

“He speaks the truth,” observed the man of the booth; “he has no mother, nor kith nor kin that I know of, and must starve if no one takes charge of him, I suspect.”

The tall sailor looked at me with an expression of countenance which at once gained my confidence. “What say you, lad, will you come with us?” he asked, pointing to his companions; “we’ll take you to sea, and make a man of you!”

“We may get him entered aboard the Rainbow, I think, mates,” he added, addressing them. “He’ll do as well as the monkey we lost overboard during the last gale; and though he may be as mischievous now, he will learn better manners, which Jocko hadn’t the sense to do.”

“Oh ay! Bear him along with us,” replied the other sea men; “he’ll be better afloat, whichever way the wind blows, than starving on shore.”

“Come along, youngster, then,” said the tall seaman; and, without waiting for my reply, he seized me by the arm, and began to move off with me through the crowd.

“But what will be done with poor father? Sure I cannot leave him now!” I exclaimed, looking back with anguish at my father’s corpse.

“Oh, we’ll see all about that,” answered my new friend; “he shall be waked in proper style, and have a decent funeral; so you may leave home with a clear conscience. Never fear!”

I need not dwell longer on the events of that sad day. Aided by some of the men who knew my father, and who returned to the tent after the fray was over, the kind-hearted seamen bore the corpse to our cottage. The promise of a supply of whisky easily induced some of the neighbours to come and howl during the livelong night. This they did with right good will, although my father was a Protestant and a foreigner; and I cried and howled in sympathy. I would fain, however, have forgotten my grief in sleep. The seamen had taken their departure, promising to return to look after me.

As there was no chance of a man with a fractured skull coming to life again, the funeral speedily took place. The small quantity of furniture remaining in the cottage was sold; but the proceeds were barely sufficient to pay the expenses.

Thus I was left, with the exception of a suit of somewhat ragged clothes on my back, as naked and poor as when I came into the world about twelve years before, with a much more expensive appetite than I then had to supply. Some boys at that age are well able to take care of themselves, but, as I have said, I was small for my years, and I had been kept by my poor mother so much by myself, that I knew nothing of the world and its ways.

Alter the funeral a compassionate neighbour, with a dozen or more children of her own to feed, took me to her house till it was settled what was to become of me. She and her husband laughed at the idea of the tall sailor coming to take me away.

“I know what sailors are,” said the husband; “they’ll just chuck a handful of silver to the first beggar who asks them for it, and then they’ll go away and forget all about it! Maybe your friend was only after joking with you, and is off to sea long ago!”

“Oh no! he meant what he said,” I replied; “I know that by the look of his face. He’s a kind man, I’m certain!”

“It may be better for us all if he comes, but it’s not very likely,” was the answer. Still I trusted that my new friend would not deceive me.

I was standing in front of the cottage which was next to that my father and I had inhabited, when my heart beat quick at seeing a tall figure turn a corner at the other end of the street. I was certain it was my sailor friend. “It’s him! It’s him! I knew he’d come!” I shouted, and ran forward to meet him.

He smiled as he saw my eagerness. “You’ve not forgotten me, I see, lad,” said he; “well, come along. It’s all arranged; and if you’re in the same mind, you’ve only to say so, and we’ll enter you aboard the Rainbow!”

I told the tall sailor that I was ready to go wherever he liked to take me. This seemed to please him. After I had wished the neighbours, who had been so kind to me, good-bye, he took me by the hand, and led me rapidly along in the direction of the docks. Before reaching them, we entered a house where some old gentlemen were sitting at a table. One of them asked me if I wished to go to sea and become an admiral. I replied, “Yes, surely,” though I did not know what being an admiral meant; and on this the other old gentlemen laughed, and the first wrote something on a paper, which he handed across the table.

On this a sunburnt fine-looking man stepped forward and wrote on the paper, and I was then told that I was bound apprentice to Captain Helfrich, of the Rainbow brig. The fine-looking man was, I found, Captain Helfrich. “Well, that matter is squared now!” exclaimed the tall sailor; “so, youngster, we’ll aboard at once, before either you or I get into mischief.”

On our way to the brig, we stopped at a slop clothes-shop. “Here, Mr Levi! I want an outfit for this youngster,” said my friend, taking me in. “Let his duds be big enough, that he may have room to grow in them. Good food and sea air will soon make him sprout like a young cabbage.”

The order was literally fulfilled, and I speedily found myself the possessor of a new suit of sailors’ clothes, of two spare shirts, and sundry other articles of dress. My friend made me put them on at once.

“Now, do the old ones up in that handkerchief,” said he; “we’ll find a use for them before long.”

The spare new things he did up into a bundle, and carried it himself.

“I did not want the Jew to get your old clothes, for which he would have allowed nothing,” said he, as we left the shop. “We shall soon fall in with a little ragged fellow, to whom they’ll be a rich prize.”

As we went along, two or three boys begged of us, and pointed to their rags as a plea for their begging. “They’ll not do,” said he; “the better clothes would ruin them.”

At last, passing along the quays, we saw a little fellow sitting on the stock of an anchor, and looking very miserable. He had no shoes on his feet; his trousers were almost legless, and fastened up over one shoulder by a piece of string, while his arms were thrust into the sleeves of an old coat, much too large for him, and patched and torn again in all directions. He did not beg, but just looked up into my tall friend’s face, as if he saw something pleasing there.

“What do you want?” said the sailor.

“Nothing,” answered the boy, not understanding him.

“You’re well off then, lad,” said the tall sailor, smiling at him. “But I think that you would be the better for some few things in this world—for a suit of clothes, for instance.”

“The very things I do want!” exclaimed the lad. “You’ve hit it, your honour. I’d a dacent suit as ever you’d wish to see, and they were run away with, just as I’d got the office of an errand-boy with a gentleman, and was in a fair way to make my fortune.”

“Well, then, here’s a suit for you, my lad,” said the sailor; “just get your mother to give them a darning up, and they’ll serve your purpose, I daresay. Give him your bundle.”

“Sure your honour isn’t joking with me!” exclaimed the lad, his countenance beaming with pleasure as he undid the bundle of clothes, which were certainly very far better than those he had on. “I’m a made man—that I am! Blessings on your honour, and the young master there!”

“You’re welcome, lad, with all my heart,” answered my friend.

“Oh, it’s Terence McSwiney will have to thank you to the end of his days, and ever after!” exclaimed the boy, as we were walking on.

“Well, Terence, I hope you’ll get the post, and do your duty in it,” said the tall sailor, moving off to avoid listening to the expressions of gratitude which the lad poured forth.

The incident made a deep impression on me. I learned by it that others might be worse off than I was, and also that a gift at the right time might be of the greatest service. Of this I had the proof many years afterwards. If the rich and the well-to-do did but know of what use their own or their children’s cast-off clothes would be to many not only among the labouring classes, but to people of education and refinement, struggling with poverty, they would not carelessly throw them away, or let them get into the hands of Jews, sold by their servants for a sixth of their value. I must observe that, in the course of my narrative I shall often make remarks on various ideas which, at the time I speak of, could not possibly have occurred to me.

The tall sailor and I walked along the quay. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I did not know his name. I looked up in his face and asked him.

“I’m called Peter Poplar,” he answered, with one of his kind smiles. “The name suits me, and I suit the name; so I do not quarrel with it. You’ll have to learn the names, pretty quickly too, of all the people on board. There are a good many of us, and each and every one of them will consider himself your master, and you’ll have to look out to please them all.”

“I’ll do my best to please them, Mr Poplar,” said I.

“That’s right! But I say, lad, don’t address me so. Call me plain Peter, or Peter Poplar; we don’t deal in misters aboard the Rainbow. It is all very well for shore-going people to call each other mister; or when you speak to an officer, just to show that he is an officer; but sharp’s the word with us forward—we haven’t time for compliments.”

“But I thought you were an officer, Peter,” said I. “You look like one.”

“Do I?” he answered, with his pleasant smile. “Well, Jack, perhaps I ought to have been one, and it’s my own fault that I am not. But the truth is, I haven’t got the learning necessary for it. I never have learned to read, and so I haven’t been able to master navigation. Without it, you know, a man cannot be an officer, however good a seaman he may be; and in that point I’ll yield to no man.”

Peter, as he spoke, drew himself up to his full height, and I thought he looked fit to be a very great officer indeed; even to be an admiral, such as the old gentleman in the office had spoken of.

“I am very bad at my books too,” said I. “I can just read a little though, and if I can get the chance of falling in with a book, I’ll like to read to you, Peter.”

My friend thanked me, but said books were not often seen aboard the Rainbow; nor were they found in many other merchant-craft, for that matter, in those days.

We found the brig just ready to haul out into the outer basin, preparatory to putting to sea. She was a fine large craft, and had been built for a privateer in the war-time. Her heavy guns had been landed, but she still carried some eight six-pounders; and as she had a strong crew of fully twenty men, she was well able to defend herself from any piratical craft, or other gentry of that description.

When Peter first took me on board, some of the seamen would scarcely believe I was the same little boy they had seen at the fair, I looked so much stouter and stronger in my seaman’s dress. I did not much like the look of the forepeak, into which Peter introduced me, telling me that it was to be my house and home for the next few years of my life. I had been accustomed to the dingy obscurity of an Irish cabin, but never had I been, I thought, in a more dark and gloomy habitation than this.

“Never fear, Jack, you’ll soon find yourself at home here,” said Peter, divining my thoughts. While he was speaking, a seaman lighted a lantern which hung from a beam, and its glare showed me that the place was more roomy than I had supposed, and that every part of it was perfectly clean. I found, indeed, afterwards, that it was very superior to the places merchant-seamen are compelled often to live in. Some of the crew slept in standing bed-places ranged round the sides of the vessel, or rather inside her bows, while for others hammocks were slung from the beams which supported the deck. The chests were arranged to serve as seats, while there was a rack for the plates and mugs belonging to their mess.

The greater part of the crew was still on shore. “Now, Jack, that you know the sort of place we have to live in, I’ll show you the accommodation prepared for the captain and his passengers. It must not make you envious any more than it does me, for I think that those who have learning and education should enjoy advantages in proportion. I feel that it is my own fault that I do not live in as fine a cabin as the captain does.”

Even though Peter had thus prepared me to see something very fine, the richness of the cabin fittings and furniture surpassed anything I had in my simplicity imagined to exist. Perhaps those accustomed to such things might not have thought it so very great. I know that there were damask curtains, and coverings to the sofas, and mirrors, and pictures in gold frames, and mahogany tables and chairs, and cut-glass decanters, and china in racks, and a number of pistols and muskets and cutlasses, all burnished and shining, fixed against a bulkhead.

“Why, this is a place fit for a king,” I exclaimed; “sure he can’t have anything grander.”

Peter laughed. “The captain prides himself on being very natty, and having everything in good order,” said he; “but kings, I fancy, live in finer places than this. However, my reason for bringing you here was to show you the place, that you may know how to behave yourself should you be sent for to attend on the captain. You must obey him quickly, try and understand his wishes, and keep things clean and in their places. If you do this, you are certain to please him.”

Thus it was that my friend kindly tried to prepare me for my new career. “Now, Jack,” said he at last, “I’ve done my best to set you on your legs. You must try to walk alone. I don’t want to make a nursing baby of you, remember.” From that day forward Peter left me very much to take care of myself. Still I felt that his eye was watching over me, and this feeling gave me a considerable amount of confidence which I should not otherwise have possessed.

By the next day at noon, the rest of the crew had assembled; the captain and several passengers, mostly merchants and planters, came on board. There was a fair wind blowing down the Liffey. “Open the dock-gates, Mr Thompson, and let her go. She’ll find her own way to Jamaica and back again by herself, without a hand at the helm, she knows it so well,” the captain, as he stood on the poop, sung out to the dock-master. I found that this was a standing joke of his.

The Rainbow was a regular West India trader, and had had many successful voyages there. Captain Helfrich was chief owner as well as master, and was a great favourite with the merchants and planters at the different islands at which he was in the habit of touching, and consequently had always plenty of passengers, and never had to wait long for freight. He was very proud of his brig, and of everything connected with her. He himself also was a person not a little worthy of note. He was, as I have said, a tall, fine man, robust and upright in figure, with large, handsome features, and teeth of pearly whiteness. He was probably at this time rather more than forty years old, but not a particle of his crisp, curly, brown hair had a silvery tint. He had a fine beaming smile, though he was very firm and determined, and could look very fierce when angry. I had an unbounded respect for him. Thus commanded, and with as good a crew as ever manned a ship, the Rainbow dropped down the Liffey, and made sail to the southward; and under these propitious circumstances I found myself fairly launched in my career as a sailor.

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Chapter Two.

The Bitters and Sweets of a Sea-Life.

“And so, Jack, you like a sea-life, do you?” said Peter Poplar to me one day after we had been about two weeks from port. We had had very fine weather all the time, with a north or easterly wind, and I expected to find the ocean always as smooth and pleasant as it then was. One good result was, that I had been able to pick up a good many of the details of my duty, which I should not have done had I been sea-sick, and knocked about in a gale.

“Yes, thanks to you, Peter, I like it much better than running errands on shore,” I answered. “I don’t wish for a pleasanter life.”

Peter laughed. “You’ve had only the sweets as yet, boy; the bitters are to come,” he observed. “Still, if you get a fair share of the first, you’ll have no reason to complain.”

I did not quite understand him. I then only thought of the sweets, as he called them. The truth was, I had generally been very kindly treated on board. To be sure, I got a kick, or the taste of a rope’s end, now and then, from some of the men if they happened to be out of humour; but those were trifles, as I never was much hurt, and Peter told me I was fortunate to get nothing worse. There was one ill-conditioned fellow, Barney Bogle by name, who lost no opportunity of giving me a cuff for the merest trifle, if he could do so without being seen by Peter, of whom he was mortally afraid. In his presence, the bully always kept his hands off me. Of course it would not have been wise in me to complain of Barney to Peter, as it might have caused a quarrel; so I contented myself with doing my best to keep out of my enemy’s way, just as a cat does out of the way of a dog which has taken a fancy to worry her. Captain Helfrich had hitherto taken no notice whatever of me, and he seemed to me so awful a person, that I never expected to be spoken to by him. Now and then the mates ordered me to do some little job or other, to fetch a swab or a marlinespike, or to hold a paint-pot, but they in no other way noticed me.

I remember how blue the sky was, and how sparkling the sea, and how hot the sun at noon shone down on our heads, and how brightly the moon floated above us at night, and formed a long, long stream of silvery light across the waters; and I used to fancy, as I stood looking at it, that I could hear voices calling to me from far, far-off, and telling me of my sweet, calm-eyed mother, still remembered fondly, and of my poor father, snatched from me so suddenly. I won’t talk much about that sort of thing. It seems now like a long-forgotten dream—I believe that, even then, I was dreaming.

Well, as I said, the fine weather continued for a long time, till I was awoken one morning by a loud, roaring, dashing, creaking sound, or rather, I might say, of a mixture of such sounds; and as I began to rub my eyes, I thought that I should have been hove out of the narrow crib in which I was stowed away in the very bows of the vessel. Sometimes I felt the head of the brig lifted up, and then down it came like a sledge-hammer into the water; now I felt myself rolled on one side, now on the other. I fully thought that the vessel must be on the rocks. Not a gleam of light reached me, nor could I hear the sound of a human voice. I wanted to be out of the place; but when I tried to get up, I felt so sick and wretched, that I lay down again with an idea that it would be more comfortable to die where I was. At last, however, Barney Bogle came below and discovered me.

“Turn out, you young skulker; turn out!” he exclaimed, belabouring me with a rope’s end. “Didn’t you hear all hands called to shorten sail an hour ago?”

I had no help for it, so on deck I crawled, where the grey light of morning was streaming from beneath a dark mass of clouds which hung overhead, and a gale was blowing which sent the foam flying from the tops of the seas, deluging us fore and aft. Now the brig was lifted up to the summit of a wave, and now down she sank into the trough of the sea, with a liquid wall on one side which, as it came curling on, looked as if it must inevitably overwhelm her. She was under close-reefed topsails and storm-jib, and two of the best hands were at the helm. Peter was one of them. I managed to climb up to windward, and to hold on by the weather-fore-rigging, where the rest of the crew were collected.

I shall never forget the dark, dreary, and terrific scene which the ocean presented to my unaccustomed sight. At first, too, I felt very sick and miserable, and I thought that I would far rather have been starving on shore than going to be drowned, as I fancied, and being tossed about by the rough ocean. Barney, who was on deck before me, abused me as I crawled up near him, and contrived to give me a kick, which, had I let go my hold, as it was calculated to make me do, would probably have been the cause of my immediate destruction. At that moment a huge sea came rolling up towards the brig, topping high above our deck. I saw Peter Poplar and the other man at the helm looking out anxiously at it. They grasped tighter hold of the spokes of the wheel, and planted their feet firmer on the deck. Captain Helfrich and his mates were standing by the main-rigging.

“Hold on, hold on for your lives, my men!” he sung out. The crew did not neglect to obey him, and I clung to a rope like a monkey. Most of the passengers were below, sick in their berths. Down came the huge sea upon us like the wall of a city overwhelming its inhabitants. Over our deck it rushed with terrific force. I thought to a certainty that we were sinking. What a horrible noise there was!—wrenching and tearing, and the roar and dashing sound of the waves, and the howling of the wind! All contributed to confuse my senses, so that I forgot altogether where I was. I had an idea, I believe, that the end of the world was come. Still my shipmates did not shriek out, and I was very much surprised to find the brig rise again out of the water, and to see them standing where they were before, employed in shaking the wet off their jackets. The deck of the brig, however, presented a scene of no little confusion and havoc. Part of her weather-bulwarks forward had been stove in, the long-boat on the booms had been almost knocked to pieces, and a considerable portion of the after-part of the lee-bulwarks had been washed away, showing the course the sea had taken over us.

“We must not allow that trick to be played us again,” said the captain to the mates. I had crept as far aft as I dared go, for I did not like the look of the sea through the broken bulwark, so I could hear him. “Stand by to heave the ship to!” he shouted, and his voice was easily heard above the sounds of the tempest. “Down with the helm!—In with the jib!—Hand the maintopsail!” The officers and men, who were at their stations, flew to obey their orders. I trembled as I saw the third mate, with several other men, taking in the jib. Having let go the halliards, and eased off the sheets, hauling away on the down-hauler; and having got it down on the bowsprit-cap, though nearly blown out of the bolt-ropes, stowing it away in the foretopmast staysail-netting. As the bows of the brig now rose and now plunged into the trough of the sea, I thought they must have been, to a certainty, washed away. The maintopsail was, in the meantime, taken in, and I felt that I was very glad I was not obliged to lay-out on the yard with the other men. It seemed a wonder how they were not shaken off into the sea, or carried away by the bulging sail. The great thing in taking in a sail in a gale, as I now learned from Peter, is not to allow the sail to shake, or it is very likely to split to pieces. Keep it steadily full, and it will bear a great strain. Accordingly, the clew-lines, down-haul-tackle, and weather-brace being manned, the halliards were let go, the weather-brace hauled in, the weather-sheet started and clewed up; then the bowline and lee-sheets being let go, the sail caught aback, and the men springing on the yard, grasped it in their arms as they hung over it. Folding it in inch by inch, they at length mastered the seeming resistless monster, and passing the gaskets round it, secured it to the yard. Those who for the first time see a topsail furled in a heavy gale may well deem it a terrific operation, and perilous in the extreme to those employed in it. I know that I breathed more freely when all the men came down safely from the yard, Barney Bogle among the number; and the helm being lashed a-lee, the brig rode like a duck over the seas.

There was no time, however, to be idle, and all hands set to work to repair damages. I now saw that the captain, who appeared so fine a gentleman in harbour, or when there was nothing to do, could work as well, if not rather better, than any one. With his coat off, and saw, axe, or hammer in hand, he worked away with the carpenter in fitting a new rail, and planking up the bulwarks; and the steward had twice to call him to breakfast before he obeyed the summons. His example inspired the rest; and in a very short time the bulwarks were made sufficiently secure to serve till the return of fine weather.

“I told you, Jack, that you would have a taste of the bitters of a sea-life before long,” said Peter, as soon as he had time to have a word with me. “Let me tell you, however, that this is just nothing, and that we shall be very fortunate if we do not fall in with something much worse before long.”

I knew that Peter would not unnecessarily alarm me, and so I looked up at the dark clouds driving across the sky, and saw the hissing, foaming waves dancing up wildly around us, looking as if every moment they were ready to swallow up the brig, I asked myself what worse could occur, without our going to the bottom. I had never then been in a regular hurricane or a typhoon, or on a lee-shore on a dark night, surrounded by rocks, or among rapid currents, hurrying the ship within their power to destruction; nor had I been on board a craft when all hands at the pumps could scarcely keep her afloat; nor had I seen a fire raging. Indeed, I happily knew nothing of the numberless dangers and hardships to which a seaman in his career is exposed. I must not say that I was in any way frightened. I resolved to keep a bold heart in my body. “Never mind,” I answered to Peter’s remark; “while I’ve got you and the captain on board, I don’t fear anything.”

Peter laughed. “We may be very well in our way,” said he; “but, Jack, my advice is: Trust in God, and hold on by the weather-rigging. Should the ship go down, look out for spar or a plank if there’s no boat afloat; and if you can find nothing, swim as long as you can; but whatever you do, trust in God.”

I have never forgotten Peter’s advice. Never have I found that trust deceive me; and often and often have I been mercifully preserved when I had every reason to believe that my last hour had come. I should remark also that, badly off as I have often fancied myself, I have soon had reason to be thankful that I was not in the condition of others around me.

While Peter was speaking, one of the crew sung out, “a sail on the weather-bow!” Sure enough, as we rose on the summit of a sea, a ship could be seen with all her topsails set running before the wind. Peter remarked that she was standing directly for us. “She is a large ship, by the squareness of her yards; probably either from the West Indies or South America, or maybe China, or from some port in the Pacific, and she has come round the Horn.”

We watched her for some time. “She has a signal of distress flying, sir,” said the first mate, who had been looking at her through a glass.

“She is in a bad way, then,” remarked the captain. “I fear that unless the sea goes down, and she in the meantime can heave-to near us, we can render her no assistance.”

On came the ship right for us. I thought that she would run us down; so, indeed, I found did others on board. The mates, indeed, went to the wheel to put the helm up to let the brig fall off, that we might get out of her way; but as she approached, she altered her course a little, so that she might pass clear under our stem. Never shall I forget the look of that strange ship; for, as she came near us, rolling in the trough of the sea, we could see clearly everything going forward on her decks.

She was a Spaniard, so Peter told me, as he knew from the ensign which flew out, hoisted half-way to her peak. She was a high-pooped ship, with a deep waist and a lofty forecastle, her upper works narrowing as they rose, with large lanterns, and much rich carved work all gilt and painted. Such a craft is never seen now-a-days.

She was crowded with people. Some were soldiers, worn-out men, with their wives and families returning home from the colonies; others were cabin passengers. There were rich Hidalgos, attended on by their slaves—old men, who had spent their lives abroad in the pursuit of wealth; and there were fair girls, too, probably their daughters, some young and lovely; and there were young men, with life before them, and thinking that life was to be very sweet; and there were children, and infants in arms, and their fond mothers or nurses anxious to shelter them from harm. Then there were the officers of the ship and the crew; fierce, dark-bearded men—a mongrel set of various ranks and many nations. She was evidently a rich galleon, returning to old Spain from one of her ill-governed dependencies in South America. But it was the way in which all these people were employed that made so deep an impression on me. Then the scene looked only like a strange picture. It was not till long afterwards, when I reasoned on what I had observed, that I understood what I now describe.

The greater number of the men were at the pumps, labouring in a way which showed that they fancied their lives depended on their exertions; but the clear streams of water which came out of the scuppers, and the heavy way in which the ship plunged into the trough of the sea, showed that their labour would too probably be in vain. Others seemed paralysed or pitied, and sat down with their heads on their breasts waiting their fate. Many, as they passed us, came to the side of their ship, and held out their hands imploringly towards us, as if we could help them. But what seemed most dreadful—some of the sailors and soldiers had got hold of a quantity of wine and spirits, and were reeling about the decks, offering liquor to every one they encountered, and holding out bottles and cans of wine mockingly at us, or as if inviting us to join them. Several, although they must have given up all hope of assistance from man, might have looked for it from Heaven, for they were on their knees imploring help—was it from Him who alone can give it, or was it from their various saints? I don’t know.

Two groups of figures on the poop especially struck me. In the centre of one stood a tall man in rich vestments of gold, and white, and purple. He had a shorn crown. He was a priest. He was holding aloft a golden crucifix, which I thought the wind would have blown out of his hand, but he must have been a powerful man, and he grasped it fast. Assisting to support him and it were two monks in dark dresses, kneeling on the deck on either side of him. Around them knelt and clung, holding on to each other, a number of men and women, and among them were some little children, holding up their tiny hands in supplication towards the crucifix. Of course, no sound could reach us, but there seemed to be much wailing, and crying, and groaning. Some were stretching out their arms, others were beating their breasts and tearing their hair. The priest stood unmoved, with head erect, uttering prayers, or pronouncing absolution. At some distance from them were a couple, not to be overlooked either. One was a fine handsome young man, in the uniform of a military officer; the other a young and beautiful girl, who lay nearly fainting in his arms. He looked towards us eagerly, hopefully, as if he fancied that he would plunge with his precious charge into the water. I thought that at that moment he was going to make the daring leap. Some of the officers of the ship were gathered round the wheel. Just then the helm was put down, and we saw some of them with blows and threats urging the drunken crew to take in the headsails, leaving the maintopsail only to steady the ship. In the operation, however, carelessly performed, the sails were blown to ribbons, and the ship drifted away to leeward of us. She had before this evidently suffered severely. Her boats were gone; her bulwarks in many places stove in; and her bowsprit and foretopmast had been carried away, while, of course, still more serious damage had been sustained in her hull.

“Shall we be able to do anything for all those poor people?” I asked of Peter, who stood near me.

“No, Jack, we shall not,” he answered; “man can’t help them. This ship, by the look of her, will not keep above water another half-hour; and then Heaven have mercy on their souls! I doubt if the captain will venture to lower a boat in this sea to attempt to save them, or if a boat could lift if he did.”

“It’s very dreadful,” said I.

“Yes, Jack; but it’s the lot all sailors must be prepared for,” answered Peter. “Remember, it may be my fate or yours one of these days. We should not be afraid; but I repeat it, Jack, we should be prepared.” I did not quite understand Peter then.

“Then, Peter, you would not go in the boat if one was lowered?” I observed.

“Wait till the captain says what he wants done,” he answered calmly. “If he thinks a boat can live, and wants volunteers, it’s my duty to go, you know. Remember, Jack, obey first, and calculate risk afterwards.”

Peter’s predictions as to the fate of the Spanish ship were fulfilled sooner even than he had expected. That moment, while we were looking at her, she settled lower and lower in the water; she rolled still more heavily; her bow looked as if about to rise, but instead her stem lifted high—up it went. There seemed a chasm yawning for her. Into it she plunged, and down, down she went—the waves wildly rushing over her decks, and scattering the shrieking multitude assembled on them far and wide over the foaming ocean; mothers, children, husbands, wives, lovers, and friends, the priests and their disciples, were rudely torn asunder, and sent hither and thither. Numbers went down in the vortex of the huge ship—the men at the pumps, the drunken seamen, some who had clung madly to the rigging. Others supported themselves on anything which could float; and brave swimmers struck out for dear life.

“I can’t stand this,” cried our captain, unconscious that he was speaking aloud; “we must try at all risks to save the poor wretches.”

“I’ll go,” cried the second mate, Harry Gale, a fine, quiet, gentleman-reared young man as ever I met.

“I’m one with you, Mr Gale,” cried Peter Poplar, springing aft to the falls of the lee-quarter-boat, the only one which could be lowered. “Bear a hand here, mates; there’ll no time to be lost!”

“Hold fast!” shouted the captain. “No hurry, my men; those who go clear the boat. The mates will stand by the falls with Jackson and Farr. All ready now!—Lower away!”

The captain gave the word, so that the boat touched the water just at the best time. Peter Poplar stood in the bows, boat-hook in hand, and moved off; Mr Gale steered; the three other men were the strongest of the ship’s company; and truly it required all the care and seamanship mortal man could possess to keep a boat alive in such a boiling caldron as the wide Atlantic then was. I was very anxious for Peter’s safety, for he was indeed my friend. I feared also for the rest. I was fully alive to the danger of the expedition they were on.

The boat, keeping under the lee of the brig, dropped down towards the scene of the catastrophe. So fiercely boiling, however, were the waves, that with awful rapidity the greater number of those who had lately peopled the deck of that big ship were now engulfed beneath them. Some, however, still struggled for existence.

Had the sea been less violent many might have been saved; for as we stood on the deck we could see the poor wretches struggling among the foam, but by the time the boat reached the spot they had sunk for ever.

The captain had gone into the main-rigging, and with his outstretched arm was indicating to the second mate the direction in which to steer; but of course she could venture to go very little out of one particular direction without a certainty of being swamped. It was very dreadful to watch one human being after another engulfed in the hungry ocean. We have just to picture to ourselves how we should be feeling if we were in their places, to make us eager to save those under like circumstances.

The most conspicuous object was the tall priest, and towards him the boat was accordingly making her way. Two other figures were at the same time seen. One floated only a short distance to leeward of the brig; it was that, I felt certain, of the beautiful girl I had seen supported by the young officer. She was unconscious of all around, and I believe that even then life had left her frame. She was supported by a piece of plank, to which probably she had been secured with the last fond effort of affection by him who had thus been unable to provide any means of escape for himself. He, however, must have struggled bravely for existence, for I made him out at a short distance beyond, now rising on the crest of a wave, now sinking into the trough of the sea, but still swimming on with his eye gazing steadily in the direction of that floating form.

Meantime the boat was making towards the priest. “Give way, lads!” shouted several of our people in their eagerness, forgetting that they could not possibly be heard. No time was to be lost, for already the priest’s rich dress was saturated with water, and he was sinking lower and lower, and what at first had supported him was now dragging him down. Still he did not give in, but, cross in hand, waved the boat on. The distance he was from the boat must have been greater than we supposed. Suddenly he threw up his arms, and a white-crested top of a sea breaking over him, he disappeared for ever amidst a mass of foam.

Mr Gale saw what had occurred, and instantly turned the boat’s head towards the young officer, who was still swimming on with wonderful strength. In this instance the men were more successful; the boat’s head dropped down close to him, and Peter, stretching out his arm, grasped the young man by the shoulder, and hauled him in over the bows, and passed him on into the stern-sheets. Though faint at first, the Spaniard instantly recovered himself, and stood upright in the boat, gazing eagerly around. As the boat rose on a sea, he caught sight of the object of his search. He pointed towards the floating form of the young lady. Even when first seen, the line by which she had been hurriedly and imperfectly secured to the plank I observed was loosened. The wash of the sea now parted her from it entirely. The young man saw what had occurred. With a cry of anguish, before our people could seize him, he sprang from the gunwale towards the object of his love, as her dress carried her down beneath the foaming waters. I think he reached her. They disappeared at the same moment, and never rose again!

Still a few people kept above water, holding on to planks, or swimming, chiefly seamen or soldiers; but most of them had been carried to too great a distance from the brig for a boat to save them. It was only by keeping under our lee, our hull preventing the sea from breaking so much, that the boat avoided being swamped. Thus we could expect that only a very few of those who floated to the last could be saved. No one could have ventured further than did our brave mate and his crew;—they would in all probability have thrown away their own lives had not Captain Helfrich recalled them. He signalled with his hand, but Mr Gale did not observe him. “Fire a gun there,” he shouted; “quick, for your lives!” A gun had been ready loaded for the purpose. Its report served as the funeral knell of many a despairing wretch.

The boat put about. The returning alongside was as perilous an operation almost as the lowering the boat had been. All hands not required at the falls stood ready with ropes to heave to our shipmates should she be swamped alongside; but the oars being thrown in, Mr Gale and Peter seizing the fall-tackles at the right moment, hooked on, and the rest of the people handing themselves up by the ropes hanging ready for them, the boat was hoisted up before the sea again rose under her bottom. It was sad to think: that all their gallant efforts had been unavailing. In two or three minutes more not a human being of all the Spaniard’s crew was to be seen alive; and except a few planks and spars, and here and there a bale or a chest, mere dots in the ocean, we might have fancied, as we looked out on those foaming waters, that all that had passed was some hideous dream. Often, indeed, have I since had the same dreadful drama acted over before my eyes while I slept; so deep was the impression made on me by the reality. Very many things which long after that time occurred have entirely faded from my memory.

Had it been possible, (as Peter told me he thought it would have been, had all the crew done their duty), to keep the galleon afloat a few hours longer, in all probability we should have been the means of saving the people. In the course of the day the wind fell, and the sea went down sufficiently to have allowed our boats to have passed between the two vessels without any great risk. Captain Helfrich was certainly not a man to have deserted her while a chance remained of saving a human being. While she floated he would have stuck to her. “Remember, Jack,” said Peter, “the first duty of a ship’s company is to stick by each other—to keep sober, and to obey their officers. Without a head, men can do nothing. They are like a flock of sheep running here and there, and never getting on. What is a man’s duty is best; and you see here, for instance, that the lives of all depend on their doing their duty.”

Sail was again made on the brig, and she was able to lay her course. At night, however, it came on to blow again, and by next morning we were once more hove-to with more sea, and the wind chopping about and making it break in a far more dangerous way than it had done on the previous day. I found, when I came on deck after my watch below, all hands looking out at an object which had just been discovered a little abaft the lee-bow. Some said it was a dead whale; one or two declared that it was a rock; but the officers, after examining it with their glasses, pronounced it to be a vessel bottom uppermost! The question was, whether the wreck was deserted, or whether any people still clung to it. Hove-to as we were, we made of course considerable lee-way; and keeping in the direction we were then driving, we should before long get near enough to examine her condition. Had not the brig already received some damage, Captain Helfrich would, I believe, have run down at once to the wreck; but this, a right care for the safety of his own vessel would not allow him to do. Every instant, too, the gale was increasing, till it blew a perfect hurricane; and not for a moment could a boat have lived had one been lowered. The wreck drove before the wind, but of course we moved much faster; it was some hours, however, before we got near enough to the wreck to discover if anyone was upon it.

“There are three or four people at least upon it,” exclaimed Mr Gale. “Poor fellows! can we do nothing for them, sir?”

“I cannot allow you to throw away your life, as you would if you had your own way,” answered the captain, to whom he spoke. “All we can do is to hope that the wind will go down before we drift out of sight of each other.”

Unhappily our course took us some way from the wreck, though near enough to see clearly the poor fellows on it. How intense must have been their feelings of anxiety as they saw us approaching them! and how bitter their disappointment when they discovered how impossible it was for us to render them any assistance till the weather moderated!

The wreck appeared to be that of a schooner, or brig of a hundred and fifty tons or so. The people were holding on to her keel. There were three white men and two blacks. They waved their handkerchiefs and caps, and held out their hands imploringly towards us. Some were sitting astride on the keel; one was lying down, held on by his shipmates; and another lay right over it looking almost dead. We made out this through the glasses. Peter got me a look through a telescope which one of the men had. It brought the countenances of the poor fellows fearfully near—their expressions of horror and despair could be seen. We longed more than ever for the gale to abate that we might help them. Still it blew on as fiercely as ever all day. The wreck remained during this time in sight, but of course we were increasing our distance from her.

“What would have happened,” said I to Peter, “if it had been night instead of day; and if, instead of passing by the wreck, we had struck against her?”

“Why, we should have given her a finishing-stroke, and very likely have stove in our bottom and followed her,” he answered. “I like to hear you ask such questions; they show that you think. The event you have spoken of occurs very frequently, I suspect. Numbers of vessels leave port, and are never again heard of. They are either run down, or they run their bows against a wreck, or the butt-end of a tree or log of timber; some are burned; some run against icebergs, or fields of ice; and some are ill put together, or rotten, and spring leaks, and so go down: but to my mind the greater number are lost from the first cause I have spoken of. You’ll find out in time, Jack, all the perils to which a seaman is exposed, as well as the hardships I once before spoke to you about.” I did not think at the time how true Peter’s words would come.

We were nearly a mile from the wreck, I suppose, when night came on; but the captain took her bearings by the compass, that he might know in what direction to look for her should he be able to make sail before the morning. I had got pretty well accustomed to the tumbling about by this time, but I could scarcely sleep for thinking of the poor fellows on the wreck. The night passed away without any change in the weather. When morning came all hands were looking out for the wreck; but we all looked in vain. There was the leaden sky, the dark-green foaming sea, but not a spot on it to be observed far as the eye could reach. Before noon the wind once more moderated, and making all sail we stood over the place where, by our captain’s calculations, the wreck would be found. Not a sign of her was to be seen. It was too certain that she must have gone down during the night.

Every day seemed to have its event. We were again on our proper course, though the sea was still running high, when towards evening an object was seen floating ahead of us, just on the lee-bow. We were at no great distance, little more than half a mile or so, when first seen, so that we were not left long in doubt as to what it was. “A raft!” said one; “A piece of a wreck,” said another; “Some casks,” said a third.

“Whatever it is, there is a man upon it,” exclaimed Peter; “and, messmates, he’s alive! Steady you,” he added, looking at the man at the wheel. “Keep her away a little,” he said, addressing Mr Gale, who had charge of the deck.

The news of what was seen at once spread below, and all hands were soon on deck on the look-out. The man was alive, and saw us coming, for he waved a handkerchief to attract our notice, lest he might not have been observed. We waved to him in return, to keep up his spirits. As we approached, we saw that the man was dressed as a sailor. He was seated on a grating, made more buoyant by several pieces of spars and planks. He was leaning against another plank, which he had secured in an upright position by means of stays on the grating. Had not the sea been still very high, we could have run alongside his raft and picked him off without difficulty; but as it was impossible to steer with the necessary nicety, there was a risk of running him down by so doing. We therefore hove-to to windward of him; and Mr Gale, with the boat’s crew who had before volunteered, being lowered, they pulled carefully towards him. The man stood up as he saw them approach; and scarcely had the bow of the boat touched the grating, than he sprung on board, and without help stepped over the shoulders of the men into the stern-sheets. When there, however, his strength seemed to give way, and he sank down into the bottom of the boat in what appeared to be a fainting fit. A few drops from a flask, which Mr Gale had thoughtfully carried in his pocket, partially revived the man, though he was unable to help himself up the side. He was therefore slung on deck, and the boat being hoisted in without damage, we again made sail.

The man, who was placed on deck with his back against the companion-hatch, remained some time in an almost unconscious state; but at length, after much care had been bestowed on him, he recovered sufficiently to speak. He was a fine, good-looking young man; and his well-browned countenance and hands showed that he had been long in a tropical climate. A little food, taken slowly, still further revived him; and he was soon able to lift himself up and look about him.

“How was it you came to be where we found you?” asked Captain Helfrich, who was seated near him on the companion-hatch, while I was employed in polishing up the brass rail of the companion-ladder.

“Why, I belonged to a ship, the Oak Tree, bound from Honduras to Bristol with mahogany and logwood,” answered the stranger. “We had made a fair run of it, three days ago, when we were caught in a heavy squall, which carried away our maintop-mast, and did us much damage. Fortunately, I was at supper when all hands were called to shorten sail; and not thinking what I was about, I clapped a whole handful of biscuit and junk into my pocket before I sprang on deck. A few hours after dark, a heavy sea struck the ship, and carried away our boats and bulwarks, washing me with one or two other poor fellows overboard. I was without my shoes, and had only a thin cotton jacket on; so, being a good swimmer, I was able to regain the surface, and to look about me. Away flew the ship before the wind, without a prospect of my being able to regain her; so I did not trouble myself upon that point. The other men who had been washed overboard with me had sunk: I could do them no good. I therefore had only to look after myself. I first cast my eyes about me, to see what I could get hold of to keep me afloat. The wreck of the bulwarks and boats, with the spars which had been washed overboard, had sent me some materials; and I got a couple of pieces under my arms to support me while I looked for more. In the heavy sea that was running, I could not have made much of a raft, when fortunately my eye caught a grating; which I managed, after much exertion, to reach. By degrees I fished up other pieces of plank and broken spars, till I had formed the raft you found me on. Fortunately, I had started on my cruise just after supper, so that I was able to hold out for some time without eating. But when morning came, and there was not a sail in sight, I began to feel somewhat down-hearted. However, I soon plucked up again. Said I to myself, ‘Though the ocean is wide, there are a good many craft afloat, and it will be hard if someone doesn’t make me out before very long.’ I tried to think of all the wonderful escapes people had made who had been in a similar condition; and I prayed that God would deliver me in the same way. One thing weighed on my mind, and still weighs there: I left a wife and a small child at home, near Bristol; and when the ship arrives there, the poor girl will hear that I was was washed overboard, and will believe me dead. When you got near me, I saw that you were outward-bound; and the thought that she might have to go many a month and not hear of me, served more than anything else to upset me. My strength gave way, and I went off in a faint, as you saw, in the bottom of the boat.” He then told the captain that his name was Walter Stenning. The captain, who was a kind-hearted man, did his best to raise his spirits; and promised him that if we fell in with a homeward-bound ship he would endeavour to put him on board.

As it happened, we did not speak any vessel till we reached the West Indies; so we had to carry Walter Stenning with us.

---

“Land! land on the starboard-bow!” was shouted from the foretopmast cross-trees, where several of our men had been, in spite of a pretty hot scorching sun, since dawn, on the look-out for it.

“Who saw it first?” asked the captain, who was always more anxious when nearing the coast than at any other time.

“Tom Tillson,” was the answer from aloft.

“A glass of grog for you, Tom, if it proves to be the land, and you have kept your eyes open to good purpose!” said the captain, preparing himself to go to the mast-head, where the mates followed him.

They were satisfied that Tom had fairly won his glass of grog, I suppose; for, after some time, when I went aloft, I saw a high blue-pointed mountain rising out of the sparkling sea with ranges of lower hills beneath it.

As we drew in with the shore, we could distinguish the fields of sugar-cane surrounded by lime-trees, and the white houses of the planters, and the huts of the negroes; and I thought that I should very much like to take a run among the lofty palmetto and the wild cotton-trees and the fig-trees, and to chase the frolicsome monkeys I had heard spoken of among their branches. A light silvery mist hung over the whole scene, and made it look doubly beautiful. I asked Peter what land it was, for I thought that we had arrived at America itself. He laughed, and said that it was only a little island called Saint Christopher’s; and that he’d heard say that it was first discovered by the great admiral who had found out America, and that he had called it after his own name. Peter, though he could not read, had a great store of information, which he had picked up from various people. He was not always quite correct; and that was from not being able to read, as he was less able to judge of the truth of what people told him; but altogether, I learned a great deal from his conversation.

We came to an anchor before the town of Basseterre, the capital of the island. It was a clean handsome-looking place, and a number of ships lay before it; while behind it, rising from the wide valley, richly cultivated and beautiful in the extreme, rose the lofty and precipitous crags of Mount Misery, 3700 feet high. It may well be so-called, for it would be pain and misery to have to climb up it, and still greater not to be able to come down again!

After the events I have before described, we had come south till we fell in with the trade-winds, which had brought us on a due westerly course to this place. I did not go on shore; but I heard the captain say that the merchants and planters were very civil and polite to him. They had, however, suffered very much in the late war with France. It was in the year 1782 that a French general, the Marquis de Bouille, having eight thousand men with him, besides a fleet of twenty-nine sail of the line, commanded by the Admiral Count de Grasse, captured the island from the English. It was, however, restored to Great Britain when the war ended the following year.

We had a quantity of fruit brought off to us, which did most of us a great deal of good, after living so long on salt provisions. I remember how delicious I thought the shaddock—which is a fruit something like a very large orange. Its outer coat is pale, like a lemon, but very thick. It is divided into quarters by a thin skin, like an orange; and the taste—which is very refreshing—is between a sweet and an acid. The colour of the inside of some is a pale red—these are the best; others are white inside. Peter told me that he had heard that the tree was brought from the coast of Guinea by a Captain Shaddock, and that the fruit has ever since borne his name.

We spent three or four days at anchor before this beautiful place; and then, having landed two or three of our passengers, and put Walter Stenning on board a vessel returning to England, once more made sail for our destination. The trade-wind still favoured us, though it was much lighter than it had been before we entered the Caribbean Sea.

“Jack,” said Peter to me the afternoon we left Basseterre, “I’ve good news for you. The captain wants a lad in the place of Sam Dermot, whom he has left on board a homeward-bound ship, for he found that he was not fit for a sea-life, and Mr Gale has been speaking a word in your favour. I don’t say it’s likely to prove as pleasant a life as you lead forward, but if you do your duty and please him, the captain has the power to advance your interests—and I think he is the man to do it.”

This was good news, I thought; and soon afterwards Mr Gale told me to go into the cabin. The captain, who was looking over some papers, scarcely raised his head as I entered. “Oh, Jack Williams—is that your name, boy?” said he. “You are to help Roach, the steward. Go to him; he’ll show you what you are to do.” The steward soon gave me plenty of work cleaning up things; for the captain was a very particular man, and would always have everything in the best possible order.

The next morning at daybreak, Mr Gale—whose watch it was at the time—roused me up, and sent me to tell the captain that there was a strange sail on the starboard-bow, which seemed inclined to cross our fore-foot. The captain was soon on deck and examining the stranger with his glass.

“Well, what do you make of her, Mr Gale?” he asked. She was a low, little vessel, with considerable beam, and a large lateen mainsail, and a jib on a little cock-up bowsprit—something like a ’Mudian rig.

“She’s a suspicious-looking craft; and if it were not that we are well-armed, and could sink her with a broadside, I should not much like her neighbourhood, sir,” answered the second mate. As he spoke, a gun was fired by the stranger, but not at us.

“He wants to speak us, at all events,” observed Captain Helfrich. “If he had intended us mischief he would have fired at us, I should think.”

“Not quite so certain of that, sir,” answered Mr Jones, the first mate. “Those pirating fellows are up to all sorts of tricks; and if he’s honest he belies himself, for a more roguish craft I never saw. He doesn’t show any colours, at all events.”

“We’ll not be taken by surprise, then,” answered the captain. “Arm the people, and see the guns all ready to run out. Boy, get my pistols and cutlass from the steward. Tell him to show himself on deck; and let the gentlemen in the cabin know that if they get up, they may find something to amuse them.”

I dived speedily below to deliver my message. While the steward was getting ready the captain’s arms, I ran round to the berths of the passengers. One had heard me ask for the pistols; thus the report at once went round among them that there was fighting in prospect. In a few minutes, therefore, several gentlemen in straw-hats, with yellow nankeen trousers and gay dressing-gowns, appeared on deck.

“What!—is that little hooker the craft we are going to fight, captain?” exclaimed one of them. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty in trouncing her, I should think.”

“Not the slightest, sir, if we have the chance,” he answered. “But her crew would have no difficulty either in cutting all our throats, if we once let them get on board! The chances are that she has a hundred desperadoes or more under hatches, and as she can sail round us like a witch, they may choose their own time for coming alongside. I tell you, gentlemen, I would rather she were a hundred miles away than where she is!”

These remarks of the captain very much altered the manner of some of the gentlemen. They were all ready enough to fight, but they put on much more serious countenances than they had at first worn, and kept eyeing the stranger curiously through their telescopes. Still the stranger kept bowling away before us on our starboard-bow, yawing about so as not greatly to increase his distance from us. If he could thus outsail us before the wind, he would be very certain to beat us hollow on a wind. We had, therefore, not the slightest prospect of being able to get away from him so long as he chose to keep us company. Suddenly he luffed up with his head to the northward.

“He thinks that he had better not play us any tricks; he has found out that we are too strong for him,” observed Mr Jones. Scarcely had the mate spoken, when a dozen men or so appeared on the deck of the felucca, and launched a boat from it into the water. As soon as she was afloat, two people stepped into her. One seized the oars, and the other seated himself in the stern-sheets.

“Well, that is a rum-looking little figure!” I heard one of our passengers exclaim, bursting into a fit of laughter. “I wonder if he is skipper of that craft?”

“She’s not a craft that will stand much joking,” observed the first mate. “See, sir; she has begun to show that she is not lightly armed.”

He pointed to the deck of the felucca, on which there now appeared at least full thirty men. They looked like a fierce set of desperadoes. They were of all colours, from the fair skin of the Saxon to the ebony hue of some of the people of Africa. The captain saw, I suppose, that there was no use in trying to prevent the boat from coming alongside; for had he done so, the felucca would very quickly have been after us again, and might not another time have treated us so civilly. He therefore, as soon as the boat shoved off from the side of the felucca, ordered the sails to be clewed up, to allow her more easily to approach.

As she pulled towards us, we were able to examine the people in her. He who sat in the stern-sheets was a little old man, with a little three-cornered hat on his head, and a blue long-skirted coat and waistcoat, richly laced. He had on also, I afterwards saw, knee-breeches, and huge silver buckles to his shoes. His countenance seemed wizened and dried up like a piece of parchment. Some of the younger passengers especially seemed to think him, by their remarks, a fair subject for their ridicule. The person who pulled was a huge negro. He must have been as tall as Peter Poplar, but considerably stouter and stronger of limb. He was clothed in a striped cotton dress and straw-hat. It would have been difficult to find two people associated together more unlike each other. The old man took the helm, and by the way he managed the boat it was clear that he was no novice in nautical affairs. “What can he want with us!” exclaimed the captain. “We’ll treat him with politeness, at all events!” Side-ropes and a ladder were therefore prepared; but scarcely had the bowman’s boat-hook struck the side, than the old gentleman had handed himself up by the main-chains on deck with the agility of a monkey, followed by the big negro. I then saw that he had a brace of silver-mounted pistols stuck in his belt, and that he wore a short sword by his side; but the latter was apparently more for ornament than use. The negro also had a large brace of pistols and a cutlass. In the boat were two iron-clamped chests, one of them being very large, the other small.

The old gentleman singled out the captain as soon as he reached the deck, and walked up to him. “Ah, Captain Helfrich, I am glad to have fallen in with you!” he exclaimed, in a singularly firm and full voice, with nothing of the tremulousness of age in it. “I’ve come to ask you for a passage to Jamaica, as I prefer entering Port-Royal harbour in a respectable steady-going craft like yours, rather than in such a small cockle-shell as is my little pet there!” As he spoke he pointed with a smile—and such a smile! how wrinkled and crinkled did his face become—to the wicked-looking little felucca.

“Impossible, sir,” answered the captain; “my cabins are already so crowded that I could not accommodate another person!”

“Oh! how are the places of Mr Wilmot and Mr Noel occupied then?” asked the stranger with a peculiar look. They were the gentlemen who landed at Saint Kitt’s!

The captain started, and looked at his visitor with a scrutinising glance; but he remained unabashed.

“How did you learn that?” asked the captain quickly.

“Oh, there are very few things which happen in these parts the which I don’t know,” answered the stranger quietly. “However, captain, even if all your cabins are full, that excuse will not serve you. I can stow myself away anywhere. I’ve been accustomed to rough it, and Cudjoe here won’t object to prick for a soft plank!” The black, hearing his name pronounced, grinned from ear to ear, though he said nothing.

Still the captain, who evidently could not make out who his visitor was, and much mistrusted him, was about to refuse the request, when the old gentleman took him by the button of his coat, as a man does a familiar friend, and led him aside. What was said I do not know, nor could I judge from his countenance how the captain took the communication made to him—I saw him start, and examine the old man attentively from head to foot. The result, I know, was that the boat and the chests were hoisted on board—the sails were let fall and sheeted home. The stranger went to the taffrail and waved his hat. On his doing this, the felucca hauled her wind and stood to the northward.

Just under the companion-stair was a small cabin, which had been filled with stores. This was cleared out, and our strange passenger took possession of it with his chests, while Cudjoe slept at the door. He at once made himself at home, and entered into conversation with every one. No one seemed, however, inclined to quiz him. When he was on deck, I heard the gentlemen in the cabin wondering who he was, for none of them had the slightest notion about the matter; and if the captain knew, he certainly would not tell them. The negro never spoke to any of the passengers or crew. Some said he was dumb; but I knew that was not the case, for I often heard him and the old gentleman talking, but in a language I could not understand. His only care appeared to be to watch over the old gentleman’s chests, which had been placed in his cabin, and to keep an eye on the little skiff which had brought them on board.

Those of the passengers who had lived in the West Indies could do nothing for themselves, and were constantly wanting me to perform some little job or other for them. I was thus oftener in the cabin than out of it. While I was attending on them, my great amusement was listening to the yarns which the old gentleman used to spin. They took in all he said for fact; but there used to be often a twinkle in his eye which made me doubt the truth of all he said.

“A man who can look back the larger part of a century, as I have done, must have heard a number of strange things, and seen a number of strange people and strange sights, unless he has gone through the world with his eyes and ears closed, which I have not,” he remarked one day when several of the passengers were collected in the cabin. “Gentlemen, I have served both on shore and afloat, and have seen as many shots fired as most people. I cannot quite recollect Admiral Benbow’s action in these seas, but I was afloat when that pretty man Edward Teach was the terror of all quiet-going merchantmen. His parents lived at Spanish Town, Jamaica, and were very respectable people. Some of his brothers turned out very well; and one of them was in the king’s service, in command of a company of artillery. He, however, at an early age showed himself to be of a somewhat wildish disposition, and rather than submit to control, ran away to sea. For many years he knocked about, among not the best of characters perhaps, in different parts of the world, till he became as daring a fellow as ever stepped a plank. In a short time, while still very young, he got together a band of youths much of his own way of thinking; and they commenced, after the old fashion, the life of gentlemen rovers. Their mode of proceeding was to run alongside any merchantman they fell in with, which they thought would prove a prize worth having. Having taken possession of everything they wanted, they then made every landsman walk the plank, as they did likewise every seaman who would not join them. Those only who would take their oaths, and sign their articles, were allowed to live. Mr Teach used to dress himself out in a wild fashion, and as he wore a great black beard, he certainly did look very ferocious. From this circumstance he got the name of Blackbeard. I don’t fancy that he committed all the acts imputed to him, but he did enough to gain himself a very bad name. The governors of the West India Islands, in those days, and the American settlements, were rather fonder of their ease than anything else, so they allowed him to range those seas with impunity. At last, however, a naval officer, feeling indignant that one man should hold a whole community in awe, undertook to destroy the pirate. He got a ship fitted out, well-armed and well-manned, and larger than any Teach was likely to have with him. After a long search, he fell in with the pirate. Teach had never given quarter, and it was not expected that he would take it. More than half drunk, the pirates went to their quarters, and fought more like demons than men. The crew of the king’s ship had to fight desperately also. For a long time it was doubtful which would come off the conqueror. At length, however, a large number of the pirates being killed or wounded. Teach was about to blow up his ship. Before, however, he could get below, his ship was boarded by his enemies, and he had to defend himself from the attack of the gallant English officer. For a long time he fought most desperately, but at last he was brought on his knees; and as he would not surrender, he was cut down, and died on the spot. Scarcely a third of his men were taken alive, and they were mostly wounded. His head was cut off and carried to Virginia, where it was stuck on a pole; and where the greater number of the pirates taken were hung in chains, to show to others what very likely would be their fate if they should design to follow the same course.”

“Why, you seem to know so much about the matter, I suppose you were there, sir,” said one of the passengers, intending his remark to be jocose.

“That is possible, young ’un,” answered the old gentleman, fixing his eyes on the speaker. “Perhaps I formed part of the pirate crew; but you don’t fancy I was hung, do you?”

The young man did not venture a reply.

“I’ll tell you where I saw some service,” continued the old gentleman. “The Spaniards had for a long time ruled it insultingly over the English in these seas, fancying that, because we didn’t bark, we could not bite. At last a fleet was fitted out in England, and despatched to the West Indies, under the command of Admiral Vernon, in 1739. He first touched at Jamaica, where he refreshed his men, and took on board a body of troops and some pilots, as well as provisions; and, on the 5th of November, sailed for the Spanish town of Porto Bello, which lies on the north side of the Isthmus of Darien. Its harbour and strong forts afforded protection to the Guarda Costas, or Spanish cruisers, which attempted to put a stop to the commerce of other nations in these seas; and it was, likewise, the great rendezvous of the Spanish merchants from various quarters. The town consisted of five or six hundred houses, and some public buildings. The inhabitants depended almost entirely on the fair, which was held there every two or three years, and which lasted about six weeks. The fair took place according to the time when the galleons arrived from Carthagena, where they first touched to dispose of part of their goods. At Porto Bello they were met by the merchants from Lima and Panama, who came, with millions of dollars, to purchase their merchandise. So crowded was the place during the fair, that there was scarcely room to stow the chests of money! The entrance of the harbour is narrow, but widens within; and at the bottom lies the town, in the form of a half moon. At the east end of the town is a huge stable for the mules employed in the traffic between it and Panama. It is very unhealthy, as on the east side there is a swamp; and in the harbour, at low tide, a wide extent of black slimy mud is exposed, exhaling noisome vapours. The town was defended by three forts. The Iron Fort was on the north side of the harbour’s mouth, and had a hundred guns. The Gloria Castle was a mile from the first, on the south side of the harbour, and had a hundred and twenty guns. And lastly, there was the fort called Hieronymo, with twenty guns. The Spaniards having been warned of the approach of the English squadron by a fast-sailing vessel which escaped from them, were prepared to receive them, and hoped to send them to the bottom at once. The fleet consisted only of the Burford, commanded by the Admiral; the Hampton Court, Commodore Brown; the Norwich, Captain Herbert; the Worcester, Captain Main; the Princess Louisa, Captain Waterhouse; and the Stafford, Captain Trevor. On the 21st they came up with the harbour. The Hampton Court first entered, and came to action not a cable’s length from the Iron Fort; and in twenty-five minutes’ time fired away about four hundred shot; so that nothing was to be seen but fire and smoke. The Norwich came next, the Worcester next, and then the Admiral, who anchored within half a cable’s length of the castle: and though he was warmly received, the Spaniards were soon driven from their guns. Then, although no breach was made, the troops were landed, and the boats’ crews, climbing up through the embrasures, struck the Spanish flag and hoisted the English colours! The other two forts capitulated next day, and all three were completely demolished; the Spanish troops being allowed to march out with their arms. The work was done by four ships, for the other two had not come up; and its history serves to show what men can do, if they are not afraid of the consequences. The same spirit, in a juster cause, animated Vernon which had animated Morgan and the Buccaneers of old, and enabled them to succeed in their desperate enterprises. If a thing must be done, or should be done, never calculate consequences. If a thing is not urgent, then balance the probable consequences against the value of the desired result. That has been my way through life, gentlemen. I have never undertaken anything unless I wished to succeed and had secured the necessary means; and then I have guarded as best I could against unforeseen circumstances.”

This was the sort of way the old gentleman talked. He told the gentlemen one day that he was not born when the earthquake occurred during which Port-Royal was swallowed up; but that he had often heard people speak of it who had witnessed it. It began about noon on the 7th of June 1692. Nine-tenths of the city and all the wharves sunk at once; and in two minutes from the commencement of the earthquake several fathoms of water lay over the spot where the streets had just stood. Two thousand persons perished. Some, it was said, who were swallowed up in one place, rose again in another still alive; but that I do not think possible. Very likely they were washed from one place to another, clinging to beams or rafters; and not knowing, in their horror and confusion, where they had been, were picked up and saved. A mountain toppled over into a river, and, by blocking up the course, a vast number of fish were taken, which afforded food to many of the nearly starving inhabitants. Nearly all the vessels in the harbour were lost; but one ship of war, the Swan frigate, was driven over the tops of the houses without capsizing. She received but slight damage, and was the means of saving many lives. Scarcely had the earthquake ceased than a fever broke out, which carried off numbers of people. What with hurricanes, plagues, insurrections of the blacks, and attacks from foreign foes, Jamaica had an uneasy time of it; and it proves her unbounded resources that, in spite of all drawbacks, she has continued wealthy and flourishing.

The old gentleman said a great deal more about Jamaica, but this was the substance, I know, of his remarks. That there was something mysterious about the old man was very evident. The captain, I thought, stood somewhat in awe of him, and in his absence never even alluded to him. The rest of the passengers, however, indulged in all sorts of suspicions about him, though they never expressed them, except among themselves. They spoke freely enough before me, for they fancied, I believe, that I did not understand them. I was one day beginning to tell Peter what I had been hearing. “Jack,” said he, “I have a piece of advice to give you, which you’ll find useful through life. Never go and repeat what you hear about anybody. It’s done by people through idleness sometimes, and often through ill-nature, or with a downright evil intention; but whatever is the cause, it’s a contemptible propensity, and is certain to lead to harm.” I promised that I would follow this advice, and I did so.

Though we had light winds, the strong current which set in from east to west across the Caribbean Sea helped us along, and enabled us to reach Jamaica about seven days after we left Saint Kitt’s. After coasting along some way, we cast anchor in Port-Royal Harbour, about five miles from Kingston. There were from two to three hundred sail of craft of all sizes brought up in the harbour.

Scarcely had we dropped our anchor, when the wind, which had before been very light, fell completely. I saw the old gentleman come on deck, and look round earnestly on every side, and then up at the sky. He then went to the captain, and took him aside.

“I tell you it will be down upon us before very long,” I heard him say. “House your topmasts, and range your cables, and have every anchor you’ve got ready for letting go.”

The captain seemed to expostulate: “Not another craft seems to be expecting danger.”

“Never mind what other crafts are doing,” was the answer. “Take the warning of a man who has known these seas from his earliest days, and do you be prepared. If they are lost, it is no reason that you should be lost with them.”

The captain at last yielded to the advice of the old gentleman. The topmasts were struck and every particle of top hamper was got down on deck. The cables were all ranged, and two other anchors were carried out ahead, while full scope was given to the best bower which we had down. The old gentleman went about the deck seeing that everything was done properly. Had we not, indeed, been well-manned the work could not have been accomplished at all. Oh, how hot and sultry it was! I had never before felt anything like it. The pitch bubbled and boiled out of the seams on the deck, and the very birds sought shelter far away in some secluded spot.

“Why has the ship been gut into this condition?” I asked of Peter.

“Because they think a hurricane is coming, Jack. If there is, we have just got into harbour in time. I don’t see any signs of it myself, except the wind dropping so suddenly; but I suppose the officers know best.”

I told him that the old gentleman had persuaded the captain to prepare for whatever was coming.

“Ah! he knows, depend on’t, Jack,” said Peter. “I can’t tell what it is, but there is something curious about that old man. He knows a great deal about these parts.” Such was the opinion all forward had formed of the stranger.

When the wind fell the sea became like a sheet of glass. A feather could not have moved over it. It became hotter and closer than ever, and we were glad to get anywhere out of the sun, stifling even as the heat was below. Even the old hands, who were inclined to laugh at the newcomers’ complaints of the heat, confessed that they would rather have it cooler. The rest of the vessels in the harbour, with few exceptions, had not hitherto been prepared to meet any unusual tempest but lay as if their crews were totally regardless of any signs of a change. A few, however, had followed our example by striking their topmasts and getting out fresh anchors.

Some of the passengers, meantime, were very anxious to go on shore; but the stranger urged them to remain on board, and assured them that before they could be half-way there the hurricane would be upon them. Two of them, however, were incredulous. The boat of a merchantman lying not far from us, was just then passing with her master in her.

“Ah! I know Captain Williams well. If he is bound for Kingston, he will give us a passage!” exclaimed one of the gentlemen; and he hailed the boat. She came alongside, and refusing all warning, they, taking their portmanteaus, got into her.

“We’ll take any message for anyone,” they sung out jokingly as they shoved off. “The storm you are afraid of will blow over, depend on it.”

“Fools are wise in their own conceit,” muttered the old gentleman, as he turned on his heel. I remember, even now, the sound of their laughter as they pulled away up the harbour.

The heat continued to increase, though a thick reddish haze overspread the sky; but as yet not a vapour floated in it. Suddenly, as if by magic, from all quarters came hurrying up dark lowering clouds, covering the whole concave of heaven, a lurid light only gleaming out from near the horizon. Then, amidst the most terrific roars of thunder, the brightest flashes of lightning, and the rushing, rattling, crashing sound of the tempest, there burst upon us a wind, which made the ship reel like a drunken man, and sent the white foam, torn off the surface of the harbour, flying over the deck in sheets, which drenched us through and through. In an instant, the surrounding waters were lashed into the wildest foaming billows. The vessels pitched fearfully into the seas, and began, one after the other, to drag their anchors. Some broke adrift altogether, and were hurled along till they were cast helplessly on the shore; and fortunate were any of the crew who could scramble clear of the hungry waves which rolled after them up the beach. Some of the smaller craft pitched heavily a few times, and then apparently the sea rushed over them, and down they went to rise no more. I was holding on all the time to the fore-rigging with hands and feet, fearing lest I should be blown away, and expecting every moment to see our turn come next to be driven on shore. We were, however, exposed to a danger on which I had not calculated: the vessels breaking adrift, or dragging their anchors, might be driven against us, when we and they would probably have been cast on shore or sunk together. On land, wherever we could see, a terrific scene of confusion and destruction was taking place; tall trees bent and broke like willow wands, some were torn up by their roots, and huge boughs were lifted high in the air and carried along like autumn leaves; houses as well as huts were cast down, and their roofs were carried bodily off through the air. I doubted whether I would rather be afloat or on shore, unless I could have got into a deep cave, out of the way of the falling walls, and trees, and roofs. All this time every one was on deck,—the officers and crew at their stations, ready to try and avert any danger which might threaten us. With a steady gale we might have cut or slipped and run out to sea; but in a hurricane the wind might have shifted round before we were clear of the land, and sent the ship bodily on shore.

While all hands were thus on the look-out, a boat, bottom uppermost, was seen drifting down near us amidst the foaming waters. One man was clinging to the keel. He looked imploringly towards us, and seemed to be shrieking for aid. No assistance could we give him. I could distinguish his countenance: it was that of one of the passengers who had just before persisted in leaving the ship! His companion, and the master and crew, where were they? He, poor wretch, was borne by us, and must have perished among the breakers at the mouth of the harbour. We had not much time to think of him, for we soon had to look to our own safety. A large ship, some way inside of us, was seen to break adrift, and soon after came driving down towards us. Being twice our size, she might speedily have sunk us. Mr Gale and Peter were at the helm to try and sheer the brig clear of her as she approached us. This, however, was not easily effected when there was but a slight current. Down came the ship! “Stand by with your axes, my lads, to cut her clear if she touches us!” shouted the captain. The ship was still some way off, and before she reached us, a schooner broke from her anchorage just ahead of us and drove towards us.

The poor fellows on board stood ready to leap on our deck had she touched us; but she just grazed by, her main-rigging for an instant catching in ours. A few strokes of an axe cut her clear, and before any of her crew could reach us she was driven onward. In another instant the wind catching her side, she turned completely over. There was a wild shriek of despair from her hapless crew. For a few moments they struggled desperately for life; but the wind and the waves quickly drove those off who had clung to the driving hulk, and soon not a trace of them or her could we perceive.

While this was occurring the old man stood unmoved near the helm, watching the approaching ship. “Arm your people with axes, Captain Helfrich, you’ll want them,” said he quietly. His advice was followed. The ship came driving down on us on the starboard bow. It appeared that if she struck us she must sink us at the moment. Our helm was put to starboard, and by sheering a little to the other side, we escaped the dreaded blow. At that instant she turned round, and her main-yard got foul of our after-rigging. This brought our sides together, and she hung dragging on us. Instantly all hands flew to cut her adrift, for already we had begun to drag our anchors. If we escaped sinking at once, there was certain prospect of both of us being cast on shore. Some of her crew endeavoured to get on board the Rainbow; but at the moment they were making the attempt, down came our mainmast, crushing several of our people beneath it. I saw the captain fall, and I thought he was killed. The first mate was much hurt. Still the ship hung to us, grinding away at our side and quarter, and destroying our bulwark and boats. The foremast, it was evident, would soon follow the mainmast, when the stranger wielding a glittering axe, sprung, with the agility of a young man, towards the stays and other ropes which held them, and one after the other severed them. His example was followed by Mr Gale and the crew, and in a shorter time than it has taken to describe the scene, we were freed from our huge destroyer. She went away to leeward, and very soon met her fate.

Still the hurricane raged on. We were not safe, for other vessels might drive against us. However, our next work was to clear the wreck. No one was more active in this than the stranger. At first we thought that the captain was dead; but the news spread that, though much injured, he was still alive. Almost blinded by the spray and rain and vivid lightning, the crew worked on. At length the storm ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun; but words cannot describe the scenes of destruction which were presented to our eyes on every side, wrecks strewed the shore, and the plantations inland seemed but masses of ruin. Night at last came, and the ship was made snug. When I went on deck early in the morning, I looked about for the stranger. Neither he nor his black attendant, nor his chests and boat were to be found. Yet it was declared that no one had seen them leave the ship! This unaccountable disappearance made all hands wonder still more who the mysterious stranger could be. Such was my first introduction to the West Indies.

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Chapter Four.

The Return Home.

“Hurrah! hurrah! Erin-go-bragh!” Such were the cries which the Irish part of our crew uttered, and in which I through sympathy joined, as once more the capstan was manned, and the anchor being hove up, and the topsails sheeted home, we made sail for Dublin. We had been longer than usual at Kingston; for the damage the brig had received in the hurricane, and the illness of the captain, which impeded the collection of freight, had much delayed us. In reality our return home brought very little satisfaction to me. I had no friends to see, no one to care for me. I therefore remained on board to assist the ship-keeper; and the whole time we were in the Dublin dock I scarcely ever set my foot on shore.

The same thing occurred after my second voyage. I did not attempt to form a friendship with anyone. Not that I was of a sulky disposition; but I was not inclined to make advances, and no one offered me his friendship. The ship-keeper, old Pat Hagan, had seen a great deal of the world, and picked up a good deal of information in his time, and I was never tired of listening to his yarns; and thus, though I had no books, I learned more of things in general than if I had bad; for I was but a bad reader at any time. Pat trusted to a good memory, for he had never looked into a book in his life. Thus, with a pretty fair second-hand knowledge of the world, I sailed on my third voyage to the West Indies in the Rainbow. We had the same officers, and several of the crew had rejoined her, who were in her when I first went to sea. I had now become strong and active, and though still little and young-looking, I had all my wits wide-awake, and knew well what I was about. The captain had taken another boy in the cabin instead of me, and I was sent forward to learn seamanship; which was, in reality, an advantage to me, though I had thus a rougher life of it than aft. Still I believe that I never lost the captain’s good-will, though he was not a man to talk to me about it.

Once more, then, the stout old brig was following her accustomed track across the Atlantic. Peter Poplar was also on board. We had been about a fortnight at sea, when, the ship lying almost becalmed with a blue sky overhead, a large white cloud was seen slowly approaching us. The lower part hung down and grew darker and darker, till it formed almost a point. Below the point was a wild bubbling and boiling of the water, although the surrounding sea was as smooth as glass.

“What can that be?” said I to Peter. “Are there any fish there?”

“No—fish! certainly not; but you’ll soon see,” he answered. “I wish it were further off; I don’t like it so near.”

“Why, what harm can it do?” I asked.

“Send as stout a ship as we are to the bottom with scant warning!” he answered. “That’s a water-spout. I’ve seen one rise directly ahead of a ship, and before there was time to attempt to escape it, down it came bodily on her deck like a heavy sea falling over a vessel. She never rose again, but went down like a shot.”

“I hope that won’t be our fate,” said I.

At that moment the captain came on deck. “Get ready a gun there, forward!” he sung out. “Quick now!” While I had been talking to Peter, a pillar of water had risen out of the sea, so it seemed; and, having joined the point hanging from the cloud, came whirling towards us. Had there been sufficient wind to send the ship through the water, we might have avoided it; but there was scarcely steerage-way on her. I thought of what Peter had just told me, and I thought if it does break over us, it will certainly send us to the bottom. The captain ordered the slow match to be brought to him, and went forward to the gun, which had been loaded and run out. On came the water-spout. I could not conceive what he was going to do. He stooped down, and, running his eye along the gun, fired a shot right through the watery pillar. Down came the liquid mass with a thundering sound into the sea, but clear of the ship, though even our deck got a little sprinkling; and when I looked up at the sky, not a sign of a cloud was there. Peter told me that we ought to be thankful that we had escaped the danger so well, for that he had never been in greater risk from a water-spout in his life.

We used frequently to catch dolphins during the passage, by striking them with a small harpoon as they played under the bow of the brig. They are not at all like the creatures I remember carved in stone at the entrance of some gentleman’s park near Dublin. They measure about four feet in length; are thick in the middle, with a green back and a yellow belly, and have a sinking between the tip of the snout and the top of the head; indeed, they are something like a large salmon. We used to eat them, and they were considered like a fat turbot.

Frequently flying-fish fell on our deck in attempting to escape from their two enemies—the dolphin and the bonito: but they fell, if not from the frying-pan into the fire, from the water into the frying-pan; for we used to eat them also. Indeed nothing comes amiss to a sailor’s mess. The flying-fish, which is about the size of a herring, has two long fins which serve it as wings; but it can only keep in the air so long as its fins remain wet. These fish, like herrings, also swim together in large shoals, which, as their pursuers come among them, scatter themselves far and wide. Nothing very particular occurred on the passage, till once more we made the land.

I went aloft when I heard the ever-welcome cry from the foretopmast-head: “Land! land on the starboard bow!” Then I saw it rising in a succession of faint blue hills out of the sparkling sea. Peter told me that it was the large island of Hispaniola, or Saint Domingo, and that it belonged partly to Spain and partly to France; but that there were a great number of blacks and coloured people there, many of whom were free and possessed considerable wealth. Not long after this, in the year 1791, these coloured people rose on the whites, who had long tyrannised over them, and having murdered vast numbers, declared their island an independent kingdom.

We were entering, I found, the Caribbean Sea by the Porto Rico passage; and were to coast along the southern shore on our course to Jamaica. Now and then we were sufficiently close in with the land to make out objects distinctly; but, in general, we kept well out at sea, as it is not a coast seamen are fond of hugging. The silvery mist of the early morning still lay over the land, when, right ahead of us, the white canvas of a vessel appeared shining brightly in the rays of the rising sun. The officer of the watch called the attention of the captain to her. Peter and I were also looking out forward. “Why, Jack!” he exclaimed, “she’s the very craft which put that old gentleman aboard the time we came away from Saint Kitt’s, you remember?”

“Of course I do,” said I. “She is like her, at all events; and as for that old gentleman, I shall not forget him and his ways in a hurry.”

“He was a strange man, certainly,” observed Peter. “The captain seems to have a suspicion about the craft out there. See, he and the mates are talking together. They don’t like her looks.”

Still we stood on with all sails set. Much the same scene occurred which had happened before, when we saw the felucca off Saint Kitt’s. Ammunition was got up—the guns were all ready to run out—the small-arms were served out—and the passengers brought out their pistols and fowling-pieces. Everybody, indeed, became very warlike and heroic. Still the little craft which called forth these demonstrations, as she lay dipping her bows into the swell, with her canvas of whiteness so snowy, the emblem of purity, looked so innocent and pretty, that a landsman would scarcely have expected any harm to come out of her. Yet those accustomed to the West Indies had cause to dread that style of craft, capable of carrying a numerous crew, of pulling a large number of oars, and of running up a narrow river, or shallow lagoon, to escape pursuit.

At last we came up with the felucca. She lay hove-to with her head towards us. There was, certainly, a very suspicious look about her, from the very apathy with which the few people on deck regarded us. However, as we looked down on her deck, we saw six guns lashed along her bulwarks, and amidship there was something covered with a tarpaulin, which might be a heavier gun than the rest. We stood on till her broadside was brought to bear on our counter. At that moment, up sprung from each hatchway some sixty as ugly-looking cut-throats as I ever wish to see; and they were busily engaged in rapidly casting loose their guns; and we were on the point of firing, when, who should we see on their deck, but the old man who had been our passenger! He instantly recognised Captain Helfrich, who was standing near the taffrail, and making a sign to the crew of the felucca, they dived below as quickly as they had appeared. He took off his three-cornered hat and waved it to our captain, who waved his in return; and then he made a sign that he would come on board us.

Instantly the captain ordered the sails to be clewed up. Had the old gentleman been an admiral, he could not have been obeyed more promptly. A boat shoved off from the felucca with four hands in her, and he came on board us. The big negro was not with him, nor did I see him on the deck of the felucca. The captain and the stranger were closeted together for a quarter of an hour or more; and the latter then coming on deck, bowed, with somewhat mock politeness to the passengers, who were assembled staring at him, and stepped into his boat.

No sooner had he gone, than we again made sail. The felucca lay hove-to some little time. She then wore round, and stood after us. So rapidly did she come up with us, that it was very clear we had not the slightest chance of getting away from her, however much we might wish to do so. She kept us company all the day, and at night, in the first watch, I could see her shadowy form gliding over the sea astern of us.

Peter and I talked the matter over together in a whisper. “I’ll tell you what I think is something like the truth,” said he. “To my mind it’s this:— When the captain was a young man out in these parts, he fell in with that old gentleman,—who isn’t so old though as he pretends to be. Well, the captain went and did something to put himself in his power; and that’s the reason the captain is so afraid of him. And then, from what I see, I suspect that the captain saved him from drowning, or maybe from hanging; or in some way or other preserved his life; and that makes him grateful, and ready to do the captain a good turn; or, at all events, prevents him from doing him a bad one. If it was not for that, we should have had all our throats cut by those gentry, if we hadn’t managed to beat them off; and that would have been no easy job. I may be wrong altogether, but this is what I think,” continued Peter. “There’s one thing, particularly, I want to say to you, Jack: never go and do anything wrong, and fancy that it will end with the thing done. There’s many a man who has done a wrong thing in his youth, and has gone through life as if he had a rope round his neck, and he has found it turning up here and there, and staring him in the face when he has least expected it. When once a bad thing is done, you can’t get rid of it—you can’t undo it—you can’t get away from it, any more than you can call the dead to life. You may try to forget it; but something or other will always remind you of it, as long as you live. Then, remember there is another life we’ve got to look to, when every single thing we’ve done on earth must be remembered—must be acknowledged—must be made known. You and I, and every sailor, should know that any moment we may be sent into another world to begin that new life, and to stand before God’s judgment-seat. I think of this myself sometimes; but I wish that I could think of it always; and that I ever had remembered it. Had I always thought of that awful truth, there are many things I could not possibly have ventured to do which I have done; and many things which I have left undone, which I should have done. Jack, my boy, I say I have done you some little good, but there’s no good I could ever possibly do you greater than teaching you to remember that truth always. But I must not knock off this matter without warning you, that I may be thinking unjustly of the captain: and I certainly would not speak to anyone else aboard as I have done to you.”

I thanked Peter for the advice he had given me, and promised that I would not repeat what he had said.

“Can you see the felucca, Tillson?” I heard Mr Gale say to Tom, who was reputed to have the sharpest eyes aboard.

“No, sir; she’s nowhere where she was,” he answered, after peering for some time into the darkness astern.

We all kept looking out for some time, but she did not reappear. The mate seemed to breathe more freely, and I must say that I was glad to be rid of the near neighbourhood of the mysterious stranger. When morning broke, she was nowhere to be seen. Whenever, during that and the following days, a sail appeared anywhere abaft the beam, till her rig was ascertained, it was instantly surmised that she was the felucca coming back to overhaul us. Even the mates did not seem quite comfortable about the matter; and the captain was a changed man. His usual buoyant spirits had deserted him, and he was silent and thoughtful. I could not help thinking that Peter’s surmises were correct.

At last we brought up once more in Port-Royal Harbour. Having landed our passengers, and discharged our cargo, we sailed again for Morant Bay, Saint Thomas’s, and other places along the coast, to take in a freight of sugar, which was sent down in hogsheads from the plantations in the neighbourhood.

We were rather earlier than usual, and we had some time to wait till the casks were ready for us. On one of these occasions the captain was invited by a planter, Mr Johnstone by name, to pay him a visit at his farm, which was some way up the country. In that climate every gentleman has a servant to attend on him; and all the planters, and others who live there, always have negroes to help them to wash and dress in the morning, to put on their stockings, and all that sort of thing. As the captain had no black fellow to wait on him, he told me that he should want me to accompany him, and I was too glad to have a chance of seeing something of the country. Meantime, to collect our freight faster, he had chartered a schooner which was lying idle in the harbour, and sent her round to the various smaller ports to pick it up, and to bring it to the brig. He had put her under charge of Mr Gale, who had with him Peter Poplar and several other of our men, and also a few blacks, who were hired as seamen.

I thought it very good fun when I found myself once more on a horse; I had not got on the back of one since I was a little boy in Dublin, and then, of course, there was no saddle nor stirrups, and only an old rope for a bridle. They are generally razor-backed beasts, with one or two raws, and blind, at least, of one eye. The captain was mounted on a strong Spanish horse well able to bear him, and I followed on a frisky little animal with his valise and carpet-bags.

I wish that I could describe the wonderful trees we passed. I remember the wild plantains, with huge leaves split into slips, and their red seed-pods hanging down at the end of twisted ropes; the tall palms, with their feathery tops; the monster aloes, with their long flashy thorny leaves; and the ferns as large as trees, and yet as beautifully cut as those in our own country, which clothed every hillside where a fountain flowed forth; and then the countless variety of creepers, whose beautiful tracery crowned every rock, and hung down in graceful festoons from the lofty trees. Now and then, as passing through a valley and mounting a hill, we stopped and looked back, we caught sight of the blue sparkling sea, with the brig and other vessels in the harbour; a few white sails glancing in the sun, between it and the horizon; and nearer to us, valleys with rich fields and streams of water, and orchards of oranges, limes, and shaddocks; and planters’ houses with gardens full of beautiful flowers, and negro huts under the shade of the plantain-trees. Then there were those forest-giants, the silk-cotton-trees, and various kinds of fig-trees and pines, such as in the old world are never seen. But the creepers I have spoken of make the woods still more curious, and unlike anything at home. First, a creeper drops down from a branch 150 feet high, and then another falls close to it, and the wind blows and twists them together; others grow round it till it takes root, and form a lofty pillar which supports the immense mass of twisting and twining stems above. As we rode along, I saw from many a lofty branch the net-like nests of the corn-bird hanging at the end of long creepers. Those mischievous rascals, the monkeys, are fond of eggs, and will take great pains to get them; so the corn-bird, to outwit them, thus secures her nest. It has an entrance at the bottom, and is shaped like a net-bag full of balls. There the wise bird sits free from danger, swinging backwards and forwards in the breeze.

We slept that night at the house of a friend of the captain’s, who had come out with him in the brig. It was a low building of one storey, with steps leading up to it, and built chiefly of wood. A veranda ran all the way round it. The rooms were very large, but not so handsomely furnished, I thought, as the captain’s cabin. People do eat curious food in the West Indies. Among other things, there was a monkey on the table; but if it had not been for the name of the thing, I cannot say there was any harm in it. I got a bit of it after it was taken from the table, and it was very like chicken. There were lizards and snakes, which were very delicate. There was a cabbage cut from the very top of a lofty tree, the palmetto; but that tree is too valuable to be cut down often for the purpose. Then there were all sorts of sweetmeats and dishes made with them. I recollect a mass of guava-jelly swimming in a bowl full of cream, and wine, and sugar, and citron. There were plenty of substantials also; and wines and liquids of all sorts. I know that I thought I should very much like to live on shore, and turn planter. I had reason afterwards to think that they had bitters as well as sweets to taste, so I remained contented, as I have ever been, with my lot.

At night, the captain had a sofa given him to sleep on in the dining-room, and I had a rug in another corner. It was many a long night since I had slept on shore, and I was constantly startled by the strange noises I heard. Often it was only the wind rustling in the palm-trees; but when I opened my eyes, I saw one whole side of the room sparkling with flashes of light; then it would burst forth on the other side; and then here and there single bright stars would gleam and vanish; and lastly, the entire roof would be lighted up. I dared not wake the captain to ask what was the matter, and it was not till afterwards that I discovered that the light was produced by fireflies, which are far more brilliant than the glow-worms of more northern climes. I had gone to sleep, when, just before daybreak, I was again awoke by a most terrific yelling, and screeching, and laughing, and roaring. I thought that the savages were down upon us, or that all the wild beasts in the country were coming to devour us. I could stand it no longer, but shrieked out, “O captain, captain! what’s going to happen us?” The captain started up, and listened, and then burst into a fit of laughter. “Why, you young jackanapes, they are only some of your brothers, the monkeys, holding a morning concert,” said he. “Go to sleep again; don’t rouse me up for such nonsense as that.”

I found afterwards that the noise did proceed only from monkeys, though I did not suppose that such small animals could have made such hideous sounds. To go to sleep again, however, I found was impossible, as I had already enjoyed much more than I usually got on a stretch. The captain, on the contrary, went off again directly; but his sleep was much disturbed, for he tumbled about and spoke so loudly, that at times I thought he was awake and calling me. “You’ll make me, will you?” I heard him say. “I don’t fear you, Captain Ralph. I—a pirate—so I might have been called—I was but a lad—I consented to no deed of blood—It cannot be brought against me—Well, I know—I know—I acknowledge my debt to you.—You exact it to the uttermost—I’ll obey you—The merchants deem me an honest trader—What would they say if they heard me called pirate?—Ha, ha, ha?” He laughed long and bitterly.

I was very glad that no one else was in the room to hear what the captain was saying. A stranger would certainly have thought much worse of him than he deserved. I had now been so long with him that I was confident, whatever he might have done in his youth, that he was now an honest and well-intentioned man. At the same time I could no longer have any doubts that Peter’s surmises about him were correct, “That old gentleman aboard the felucca is Captain Ralph, then,” I thought to myself, “If I ever fall in with him, I shall know how to address him, at all events.” At length the captain awoke; and after an early breakfast, the owner took him round the plantation, and I was allowed to follow them.

The sugar-cane grows about six feet high, and has several stalks on one root. It is full of joints, three or four inches apart. The leaves are light green; the stalk yellow when ripe. The mode of cultivation is interesting. A trench is dug from one end of the field to the other, and in it longways are laid two rows of cane. From each joint of these canes spring a root and several sprouts. They come up soon after they are planted, and in twelve weeks are two feet high. If they come up irregularly, the field is set on fire from the outside, which drives the rats, the great destroyers of the cane, to the centre, where they are killed. The ashes of the stalks and weeds serve to manure the field, which often produces a better crop than before. The canes are cut with a billhook, one at a time; and being fastened together in faggots, are sent off to the crushing-mill on mules’ backs or in carts. Windmills are much in use. The canes are crushed by rollers and as the juice is pressed out, it runs into a cistern near the boiling-house. There it remains a day, and is then drawn off into a succession of boilers, where all the refuse is skimmed off. To turn it into grains, lime-water is poured into it; and when this makes it ferment, a small piece of tallow, the size of a nut, is thrown in. It is next drawn into pots to cool, with holes in the bottom through which the molasses drain off. Rum is made from the molasses, which being mixed with about five times as much water, is put into a still.

There are three sorts of cotton-trees. One creeps on the earth like a vine; another is a bushy dwarf tree; and the third is as high as an oak. The second-named, after it has produced very beautiful flowers about the size of a rose, is loaded with a fruit as large as a walnut, the outward coat of which is black. This fruit, when it is fully ripe, opens, and a down is discovered of extreme whiteness, which is the cotton. The seeds are separated from it by a mill.

The stem of the cacao-tree is about four inches in diameter. In height it is about twelve feet from the ground. The cacao grows in pods shaped like cucumbers. Each pod contains from three to five nuts, the size of small chestnuts, which are separated from each other by a white substance like the pulp of a roasted apple. The pods are found only on the larger boughs, and at the same time the tree bears blossoms and young fruit. The pods are cut down when ripe, and allowed to remain three or four days in a heap to ferment. The nuts are then cut out, and put into a trough covered with plantain-leaves, where they remain nearly twenty days; and, lastly, dried three or four weeks in: the sun. Indigo is made from an herb not unlike hemp. This is cut, and put into pits with water; and being continually stirred up, forms a sort of mud, which, when dry, is broken into bits for exportation.

I will mention one plant more of general use—coffee. It is a shrub, with leaves of a dark-green colour. The berries grow in large clusters. The bean is enclosed in a scarlet pulp, often eaten, but very luscious. One bush produces several pounds. When the fruit is ripe, it turns black, and is then gathered; and the berries, being separated from the husk, are exposed to the sun till quite dry, when they are fit for the market.

However, I might go on all day describing the curious plants, and trees, and animals, and birds I saw. I must speak of the ginger. The blade is not unlike that of wheat. The roots, which are used, are dug up and scraped free from the outward skin by the negroes. This is the best way of preparing it, and it is then soft and white; but often, from want of hands, it is boiled, when the root becomes hard and tough, and is of much less value.

I shall never forget the beautiful humming-birds, with magnificent plumage gleaming in the sun, and tongues fine as needles, yet hollow, with which they suck the juices from flowers.

We did not, on account of the heat, recommence our journey till the afternoon. The planter accompanied us. I heard him and the captain talking about the outbreaks of the fugitive negroes in former days. “They are a little inclined to be saucy just now,” I heard him remark. “But we taught them a lesson which they will not easily forget. Those we caught we punished in every way we could think of. Hanging was too mild for them. Some we burned before slow fires; others were tied up by the heels; and others were lashed to stakes, their bodies covered over with molasses to attract the flies, and then allowed to starve to death. Oh, we know how to punish rebels in this country.”

I listened to what the planter was saying. I could scarcely believe the testimony of my ears. Was it really a man professing to be a Christian thus talking, thus boasting of the most horrible cruelties which even the fiercest savages could not surpass?

The captain replied, that he supposed they deserved what they got, though, for his part, he thought if a man was deserving of death, he should be hung or shot outright, but that he did not approve of killing people by inches.

From what I heard I was not surprised to find that there were large numbers of these revolted negroes, under the name of Maroons, living among the mountain-fastnesses in the interior of the island, where they could not be reached; that their numbers were continually augmented by runaway slaves; and that they declined to submit to the clemency of the whites. It was quite dark before we reached the house of the planter, where the captain proposed to spend a few days. It stood on the side of a hill covered with trees, and had a considerable slope below it. It was a rough wooden edifice, of one storey, though of considerable size, and had a veranda running round it. Besides the owner, there were the overseer, and two or three white assistants; and an attorney, a gentleman who manages the law business of an estate; and two English friends. Altogether, there was a large party in the house. During dinner the company began to talk about pirates, and I saw the captain’s colour change. The attorney said that several piracies had been committed lately in the very neighbourhood of Jamaica; and that unarmed vessels, in different parts of the West Indies, were constantly attacked and plundered. They remarked that it was difficult to find out these piratical craft. Sometimes the pirates appeared in one guise and sometimes in another; at one time in a schooner, at others in a felucca, or in a brig; and often even in open boats. “Yes,” observed the attorney, “they seem to have excellent information of all that goes on in Kingston. I suspect that they have confederates on shore, who tell them all they want to know.” I thought the captain would have fallen off his chair, but he quickly recovered himself, and no one appeared to have remarked his agitation. They did carry on, to be sure! What quantities of wine and rum-punch they drank! How their heads could stand it I don’t know. Two or three of them did roll under the table, when their black slaves came and dragged them off to bed; which must have raised them in the negroes’ opinion. Even the captain, who was generally a very sober man, got up and sang songs and made speeches for half an hour when no one was listening. At last the slaves cleared the dining-room, and beds were made up there for several of the party. I was afraid that the captain might begin to talk again in his sleep of his early days, and accuse himself of being a pirate; and I was anxious to warn him, lest anyone might be listening; but then, I thought to myself, they are all so drunk no one will understand him, and he won’t like to be reminded by me of such things as that.

The night seemed to be passing quietly away. As I lay on a rug in the corner of the room, I could hear the sound of some night-birds, or frogs, or crickets, and the rustling of the wind among the plantain-leaves, till I fell asleep. Before long, however, I started up, and thought that the monkeys had begun their concert at an earlier hour than usual. There were the most unearthly cries and shrieks imaginable, which seemed to come from all sides of the house, both from a distance and close at hand. For a moment all was silent, and then they were repeated louder than before. Had not the company been heavy with drink, they must have been awoke at once. As it was, the second discharge of shrieks and cries roused them up, and in another minute people came rushing into the dining-hall from different parts of the house, their pale countenances showing the terror they felt. “What’s the matter? what’s all this?” they exclaimed.

“That the negroes have come down from the hills, and that we shall all be murdered!” exclaimed the master of the house, who had just hurried in with a rifle in his hand. “Gentlemen, we may defend ourselves, and sell our lives dearly, but that is all I can hope for.”

“Let us see what can be done,” said Captain Helfrich coolly. “This house may not stand a long siege, perhaps, though we’ll do our best to prepare it. We’ll block up the windows and all outlets as fast as we can. See, get all the rice and coffee bags to be found, and fill them with earth; we may soon build up a tolerably strong fortification.”

The captain’s confidence and coolness encouraged others, and every one set to work with a will to make the proposed preparations. All the household slaves, and several blacks residing in the neighbouring huts had come into the house to share their master’s fortunes but the greater number had run away and hid themselves. There was no lack of muskets and ammunition; indeed, there were among us weapons sufficient to arm twice as many men as were assembled. The white gentlemen were generally full of fight, and began to talk hopefully of quickly driving back the Maroons: but the blacks were in a great state of excitement, and ran about the house chattering like so many monkeys, tumbling over each other, and rather impeding than forwarding the work to be done.

Though matters were serious enough, I, with a youngster’s thoughtlessness, enjoyed a fit of laughter while we were in the middle and hottest hurry of our preparations. It happened that two stout blackies rushed into the hall from different quarters, one bearing on his back a sack of earth, the other a bundle of canes or battens. Tilt they went with heads stooping down right against each other. Their skulls met with a clap like thunder, and both went sprawling over on their backs, with their legs up in the air. The sack burst, and out tumbled the earth; and the bundle of canes separating, lay in a confused heap.

“For what you do dat, Jupiter?” exclaimed he of the canes, as he jumped up ready to make another butt at his opponent.

“Oh, ki! you stupid Caesar, you ’spose I got eyes all round,” replied Jupiter, leaping on his legs with the empty sack hanging round his nook, and stooping down his head ready to receive the expected assault.

The black knights were on the point of meeting, and would probably each have had another fall, when one of the overseers passing bestowed a few kicks upon Caesar. Off ran the hero, and Jupiter expecting the same treatment, took himself off to bring in a fresh bag of earth.

Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour passed away, but still the rebels did not commence their attack. The overseer said that they had uttered the shrieks to frighten us, and also to get the slaves to desert us, that they might murder us alone. I should have supposed that, like other savages, they would have crept silently on us, so as to have taken us unawares; but negroes, I have remarked, seldom act like other races of people.

During the short time which had passed since the alarm was given, we had made very tolerable preparations to receive the rebels. I had been running about, trying to make myself as useful as I could, when the captain called me up to him.

“I’m glad to see you wide-awake, Jack,” said he. “Remember, when the fight begins, as it will before long, stick close to me. I may want to send you here and there for something or other; and if the worst comes, and we are overpowered, we must try to cut our way out through the rascals. Now set to work, and load those muskets; you know how, I think. Ay, that will do; keep loading them as fast as I discharge them. We may teach the Niggers a lesson they don’t expect.”

I was very proud of being thus spoken to by the captain, for it was the first time that he had ever condescended to address me in so familiar a way. It was generally—“Boy, bring me my shoes;” “Jump forward there, and call the carpenter.” I resolved to do my best not to disappoint him.

I placed the powder-flask and bullets on one side of me, and the muskets on the other, so that I could load one after the other without altering my position. It never occurred to me all the time that there was the slightest degree of danger. I thought that we had only to blaze away at the Niggers, and that they would run off as fast as their legs could carry them.

Never was I more mistaken. Soon after the captain had spoken to me we were startled by another thunder-clap of shouts, and shrieks, and unearthly cries, followed by several shot, the ringing taps which succeeded each showing that the bullets had struck the house. Presently a negro, who had been sent to keep a look-out on the roof, came tumbling through a skylight, exclaiming, “Dey is coming, dey is coming, oh ki!” Directly after this announcement, the shrieks and cries were heard like a chorus of demons, and it was evident that our enemies were closely surrounding us. Whichever way we turned, looking up the hill or down the valley, the terrific noises seemed to come loudest and most continuous from that quarter.

Captain Helfrich, as if by the direct appointment of all, took the command. “Now, my lads, be steady,” he exclaimed; “don’t throw your shots away. You’ll want all you’ve got, and a bullet is worth the life of a foe.”

Each man on this grasped his musket; but the negroes held theirs as if they were very much more afraid of the weapons doing them harm than of hurting their enemies. The greater number of the lights in the house had been put out, a few lanterns only remaining here and there, carefully shaded, to show us our way about. Not a word or a sound was uttered by any of us, and thus in darkness and silence we awaited the onslaught of our enemies.

---

The Maroons did not leave us long in suspense. Once more uttering the most fearful and bewildering shrieks, they advanced from every quarter, completely surrounding, as we judged, the house. For a minute they halted, and must have fired every musket they had among them. Loopholes had been left in all the windows, and every now and then I peeped through one of them, to try and discover what was taking place. There was just sufficient light to enable me to see the dusky forms of the rebels breaking through the fences and shrubberies which surrounded the house. As they arrived, they formed in front, dancing, and shrieking, and firing off their muskets and blunderbusses in the most irregular fashion, expending a great deal of gunpowder, but doing us no harm.

Captain Helfrich was watching them. When some hundreds had been thus collected, he suddenly exclaimed, “Now, my lads, give it them! Don’t throw your shots away on the bushes!”

Obedient to the order, every man in the house fired, and continued firing as fast as he could load his musket. I dropped on my knee alongside the arms the captain had appropriated, and as I handed a loaded musket to him he gave me back the one he had fired, which I reloaded as rapidly as I could.

This continued for some minutes, the constant shrieks and groans of our black assailants showing us that the shot frequently took effect. I believe, indeed, that very few of the captain’s missed. Though he fired rapidly, it was always with coolness and steadiness, and it appeared to me that he had singled out his victim before he turned round to take the musket from me.

As yet none of our people had been killed, though some of the enemy’s shot had found their way through the loopholes in the windows and doors. Growing, however, more desperate at the loss of their companions, and burning for revenge, they rushed up closer to the house, pouring in their fire, which searched out every hole and cranny. Some of the slaves who incautiously exposed themselves were the first to suffer. A poor fellow was standing at the window next to me. A bullet struck him on the breast. It was fired from a tree, I suspect. Down he fell, crying out piteously, and writhing in his agony. It was very dreadful. Then the blood rushed out of his mouth in torrents, and he was quiet. I sprang forward, intending to help him. The pale light of the lantern fell on his countenance. He looked perfectly calm. I thought he was resting, and would get up soon and fire away again. My glance was but momentary, for the captain called me back to my post.

The fire on this became hotter and hotter. Two more negroes were struck. They did not fall, but cried out most piteously. One of the English gentlemen was next shot. He fell without a groan. The captain told me to run and see where he was hurt. I tried to lift him up, but his limbs fell down motionless. There was a deep hole in his forehead, through which blood was bubbling. I suspected the truth that he was dead. I told the captain that he was hit on the head. “Leave him, then, Jack,” said he; “you can do him no good.”

On my return, I looked at the negro who had been first hit. He, too, was motionless. I tried to place him in a sitting posture, but he fell back again.

“Let him alone, Jack,” cried the captain; “his work is done; he’s no longer a slave.”

I thus found that the negro also was dead. It seemed very dreadful to me; I burst into tears.

I cried heartily as I knelt loading the muskets, forgetting that in a short time the captain, and I, and every one in the house, might be in the same state. Had not the whites shown great determination, all must before this have fallen victims to the rage of the Maroons. Numbers of our enemies were shot, but still they rushed on, resolved to destroy the house and all in it.

While the uproar they made was at its height, a loud battering was heard at one of the doors. The enemy had cut down the trunk of a young tree, and were endeavouring to break in the door with it. The captain and the other gentlemen shot down several who were thus engaged, but still they persevered; and, as some fell, fresh assailants rushing up, seized the battering-ram, and continued the work. The door was stout, but we saw that it was giving way. It began to crack in every direction. Pieces of furniture and sand-bags were piled up against it, but with little avail. Each blow shattered a part of it, and soon, with a loud crash, it was driven in, and the fierce, excited faces of our dark foes were seen above the barricade formed by the bags, and furniture, and broken door. Several who attempted to pass over it were shot down, but our people being now much more than ever exposed to the fire of the enemy, proportionably suffered. The shot came in thick among us, and one after the other was wounded.

While the captain and others were defending the breach, the battering-ram was withdrawn; why, we were not long left in doubt. To our great horror, the battering, cracking sound was heard in the rear of the house. Still we were not at once to be defeated, and some of our party hurried to defend the spot. The attack on the front-door had cost the negroes so many lives that they were more cautious in approaching the second; and, when our party began to fire, they retreated under shelter, leaving the trunk of the tree on the ground. At the same time, they began apparently to weary of their ill success in front of the house; for of course they could not be aware that they had killed any of its defenders. We were thus hoping that they would at length withdraw, when the whole country in front of us seemed to burst into flame.

“They have set the fields on fire!” exclaimed the planter.

“No, no,” said Captain Helfrich; “worse than that—see there? Our watch is out, depend on that. Not one of us will see another sun arise. So, my men, let us sally out, and sell our lives dearly.”

I looked through one of the loopholes to see what he meant. Emerging from among the trees came hundreds of dusky forms, each man bearing in his hand a torch which he flourished wildly above his head, dancing and shrieking furiously.

I thought the captain’s advice would be followed, but it was not. The rest of the party were either too badly wounded or wanted nerve for the exploit, and the slaves could not be depended on. All we did was to guard the battered-in door, and to fire away as before.

On came the Maroons with their frantic gestures, and, to our horror, as soon as they reached the door, they began to throw their torches in among us. At first we tried to trample out the fire under foot, but they soon outmastered our powers, and the furniture which composed our barricade ignited, so did the walls of the house, and the negroes shrieking and cheering, encouraged each other in throwing in fresh torches to overwhelm us. Still, induced to fight on by my gallant captain, we continued our exertions, when the attack on the back-door was renewed. It gave way! Loud shouts burst from the Maroons. Their revenge was about to be satiated.

“Now, my lads, follow me,” shouted the captain; “we’ll cut our way through them. Stick to me, Jack, whatever you do!”

As he said this, he seized a cutlass which lay on the ground, and, before the negroes had time to bring the torches round to that side, he rushed through the back-door which they had just battered down. I clung to his skirts as he told me, springing along so as not to impede him; and so heartily did he lay about him with his weapon, cutting off by a blow a head of one and an arm of another, that he speedily cleared himself a wide passage. Several of our party endeavoured to follow him with such weapons as they could seize, but, unable to make the progress he did, they were either knocked down and captured or killed on the spot. On we went towards the wood behind the house, but we had still numberless enemies on every side of us,—enemies who seemed resolved not to allow any of their intended victims to escape them. I did not think it possible that any man could keep so many foes at bay as did the captain. Just as I thought we should escape, his foot caught in a snake-like creeping root which ran along the ground. Over he went almost flat on his face; but he did not lose a grasp of his sword. He tried to rise, and I endeavoured to pull him up. He was almost once more on his feet, when another creeper caught his foot. Again he fell, and this time our enemies were too quick for him. Rushing on him by hundreds, they threw themselves on his body, almost suffocating him as they held him down by main force. I was treated much in the same way, when a huge negro caught me up by the back of the neck, and made as if he was about to cut off my head. He did not do so, but held me tightly by the collar while the rest secured the captain.

Flames were now bursting forth from every part of the planter’s house, and lighted up the surrounding landscape,—the tall plantains and cotton and fig-trees, the tangled mass of creepers and their delicate tracery as they hung from their lofty boughs, the fields of sugar-cane, the cactus-bushes, and numberless other shrubs, and the grey sombre mountain-tops beyond. From the way the blacks were running here and there in dense masses, and the excited shouts I heard, I discovered that they were in pursuit of some of the late defenders of the house, who, when too late, were endeavouring to make their escape. Had they closely followed the captain, they might all, perhaps, have cut their way through the enemy.

The blacks seemed to consider the captain a perfect Samson, for they lashed his arms and legs in every way they could think of; and then making a sort of litter, they put him on it, and carried him along towards the mountains. They treated me with less ceremony. My first captors handed me over to four of them, who contented themselves with merely binding my arms, and driving me before them at the points of their weapons. Now and then one of them, more vicious than the rest, would dig the point of his spear into me, to expedite my movement. I could not help turning round each time with a face expressive, I daresay, of no little anger or pain, at which his companions all laughed, as if it were a very good joke. They seemed to do this to recompense themselves for the loss of the booty they might have supposed the rest were collecting from the burning house.

We had not proceeded far before we were joined by a large band, carrying along, bound hand and foot, the survivors among the defenders of the house. The planter himself, and four or five of his guests, were there, and seven or eight slaves. From the disappearance of the rest of the Maroons, I concluded that they had gone off to attack some other residences.

On we went hour after hour, and when the sun rose, exposed to its broiling heat, without stopping. The negroes ate as they went along, but gave us nothing. It would have been a painful journey, at all events; but when we expected to be tortured and put to death at the end of it, I found it doubly grievous to be endured. I longed for a dagger, and that I might find my arms free, to fight my way out from among them. At last I thought that it would be the best way to appear totally unconcerned when they hurt me, so that I became no longer a subject for their merriment.

At length, about noon, we stopped to rest; and most of our guards, after eating their meal of plantains, went to sleep. I thought that it would be a good opportunity to try and get near the captain, to learn if he thought that there was any chance of our escaping. Some few of the Maroons, with arms in their hands, sat up watching us narrowly; I therefore put on as unconcerned a manner as possible, and lay down on the ground, pretending to go to sleep likewise. I in return watched our guards, and one by one I saw sleep exerting its influence over them. Their eyes rolled round in their heads like those of owls; their heads nodded; then they looked up, trying to appear prodigiously wise; but it would not do, and at length the whole camp was asleep. I considered that now or never was my time for communicating with the captain. Though I saw that no one near was likely to observe me, I thought that some one at a distance might, and therefore that it would be necessary to be cautious. Instead of getting up and walking, I rolled myself gently over and over till I got close up to him.

“Captain,” said I, very softly—“Captain Helfrich, sir. I am here. What can I do?”

He was drowsy, and at first did not hear me; but soon rousing himself, he turned his eyes towards me, for he could not move his head. “Ah, Jack! is that you?” said he; “we are in a bad plight, lad.”

“Do you think the savages are going to kill us, sir?” said I.

“No doubt about it, Jack, if we are not rescued, or don’t manage to escape,” he answered. “I see little prospect of either event.”

“But what can I do, sir?” I asked.

“Little enough, I am afraid, lad,” he replied, in a subdued, calm tone. “But stay, if you can manage to get your hands near my teeth, I will try and bite the bands off them, and then you can loosen the lashings round my limbs. We must wait for the night before we try to escape. We should now be seen, and pursued immediately.”

I did as he bid me, and by means of his strong teeth he was soon able to free my hands from the ropes which had confined them. I also at length, with much more difficulty, so far slackened all his bands and the lashings which secured him to the litter, that he might with ease slip his limbs completely out of them. Having accomplished this important undertaking, I crawled back to the spot I had before occupied. Scarcely had I got there, when a black lifted up his head and looked around. I thought he had fixed his malignant eyes on me, and had probably been a witness of what I had done. I lay trembling, expecting every moment to have the wretch pounce upon me and bind my hands tighter than before. However, after a little, he lay down again, and grunted away as before.

Soon after this another Maroon sat up and looked round, and then another, and another; so that I was very glad I had not lost the opportunity of which I had taken advantage. In another quarter of an hour, the whole force was on the move. I looked anxiously to ascertain whether they had discovered that the captain’s bands had been loosened; but without examining him, they lifted up the litter, and bore him on as before. In consequence of this I walked on much more cheerily than I had previously done, though I still got an occasional prick to hasten my steps.

As we advanced, we got into still more hilly and wild country. All signs of cultivation had ceased, and vegetation revelled in the most extravagant profusion. Our chief difficulty was to avoid the prickly pears, and the cacti, and the noose-forming creepers, which extended across our path. We were in the advance party; the rest of the white men followed at a distance from us, so that we had no prospect of communicating with them.

The encouragement the captain had given me helped to raise my spirits, and I endeavoured further to keep them up by whistling and singing occasionally, but it was with a heavy heart that I did so. My great consolation was all the time that my friend Peter Poplar was not in the same predicament. He would have felt it more than any of us. He had long been prepared for any misfortune which could happen to him at sea, but he had not made up his mind to undergo hardships on shore as well.

At last I began to grow very weary of walking so far over such rough and uneven ground, and I was glad to find that the blacks were approaching their encampment or village. It consisted of a number of rude huts, built on the summit of a high rock, with steep precipices on every side. A narrow causeway led to it from another rock, which jutted out from the side of the hill. It was a very strong place, for it extended too far into the valley to be reached by musketry from the hill; and the hill itself was too rugged to allow cannon to be dragged up it. The rock appeared to have rude palisades and embankments, to serve as fortifications, over a large portion of its upper surface. As I examined it, I saw that our chance of escape from such a place, by any method I could imagine, was small indeed. I do not know what the captain thought about the matter, but he was not a man to be defeated by difficulties, or to abandon hope while a spark of life remained.

As we went along the causeway, a number of women, and children, and dogs came out to meet us, our welcome consisting in a most horrible screaming, and crying, and barking, which, I suspect, as far as the prisoners were concerned, was far from complimentary. Among them were some dreadful old crones, who came stretching out their withered, black, parchment arms, shrieking terrifically, and abusing the white men as the cause of all the misery and hardships it had been their lot to endure. Their accusations were, I believe, in most respects, too just. Certainly white men had torn them or their ancestors from their native land—white men had brought them across the sea in the crowded slave-ship—white men had made them slaves, treated them with severity and cruelty, and driven them to seek for freedom from tyranny among the wild rocks and fastnesses where they were now collected. The other prisoners seemed to feel, by their downcast, miserable looks, that they were in the power of enemies whom they had justly made relentless, and that they had no hope of escape. The old crones went up to them, pointed their long bony fingers in their eyes, and hissed and shrieked in their ears. What was said I could not understand, but they were evidently using every insulting epithet they could imagine to exasperate or terrify their victims.

I have often thought of that dreadful scene since. How must the acts of those white men have risen up before them in their true colours—the wrong they had inflicted on young and innocent girls—the lashes bestowed on men of free and independent natures—the abuse showered on their heads—the total neglect of the cultivation of all their moral attributes! Oh, you Christian gentlemen, did it ever occur to you that those slaves of yours were men of like passions as yourselves; that they had minds capable of cultivation in a high degree, if not as high as your own; that they had souls like your souls to be saved—souls which must be summoned before the judgment-seat of Heaven, to be judged with yours; and that you and they must there stand together before an all-righteous and pure and just God, to receive the reward of the things you have done in this life? Did it occur to you that, had you made those people true Christians; that, had you taught them the holy religion you profess—a religion of love and forgiveness—that they would not now be taking pleasure in tormenting you, in exhibiting the bitter vengeance which rankled in their souls!

I could not help thinking that some such accusing thoughts as these rose to the consciences of the planter and his companions. I know that I would not for worlds have changed places with him, though he was the owner of rich fields and wealth long hoarded up, which he was on the point of returning to England to enjoy.

Either on account of my youth, or because, as they saw, I was a sailor, the rebels must have known that I could not have treated them cruelly, and I was allowed to remain quiet. After the whole population had given vent to their feelings by abusing the prisoners in every possible way, they were thrust into a hut together, and a guard placed over them. The captain and I were then put into another hut, and ordered not to stir on pain of being shot.

“Not bery good chance of dat!” observed one of our captors, a grey-headed old negro with a facetious countenance, looking at the numerous lashings which confined our limbs.

“Better chance than you suppose, old fellow!” thought I to myself; but I kept as melancholy and unconcerned a look as I could assume.

I concluded, that as the other prisoners were guarded so were we, and that we should have very little chance of effecting our escape, unless our guards fell asleep. The difficulties were, at all events, very great. We should, in the first place, have either to scramble down the sides of the rock, or to cross the narrow causeway, where one man as a guard could instantly stop us. There was every probability that the Maroons would place one there.

For some hours there was a great deal of noise in the village. The blacks were rejoicing over their victory, and there was no chance of our guards outside the hut being asleep. I waited, therefore, without moving, till the sounds of revelry subsided, the tom-toms were no longer beaten, the trumpets ceased braying, and the cymbals clashing. Then I could hear the guards talking to each other outside. The few words I could comprehend out of this jargon were not very consolatory. I made out clearly that they proposed to shoot all their prisoners the next day, and that, besides those already in camp, they expected a number more from other estates which were to be attacked. There appeared only a possibility that our lives might be prolonged another day, till all their forces out on various expeditions were assembled. Little did those at home, looking at the map of Jamaica, fancy that, in the very centre of that beautiful island, there existed so numerous a band of savages in open revolt against the authority of the king.

At first our guards were animated enough in their conversation; then their voices grew thicker and thicker, and their tones more drowsy and droning, till they could scarcely have understood what each other said. At last one began to snore, then another, and the last speaker found himself without auditors. I longed for him to hold his tongue, and to go to sleep, but talk on he would, though he had no listeners. This, I thought, was a good opportunity to allow me to speak to the captain, so I crawled up to him. He was awake, waiting for me.

“What’s to be done now, captain?” said I.

“We must wait the course of events, Jack,” he answered. “I have been turning over every plan in my mind which affords a chance of escape. If we were to start off now, we should certainly be caught by some of these black gentlemen; and if brought back, we should be put under stricter watch and ward than hitherto. Something may occur during the night, or perhaps to-morrow. At all events, I do not intend to die without a fight for it. Try and go to sleep now, and get some rest; you’ll want it for what you may have to go through. Go, lie down, lad; my advice is good. Don’t fear.”

I followed the captain’s advice, though it was difficult to go to sleep, and still more so not to fear. I did go to sleep, however, and never slept more soundly in my life. I was awoke by feeling a hand placed on my shoulder. It was that of the captain.

“Jack,” he whispered, “be prepared to follow me if I summon you, but not otherwise. If we can manage to get down the rock, or to cross the causeway without being seen, we will go; but if not, we must wait another opportunity. I do not feel as if either of us had come to the end of the cable yet, but how we are to get free I don’t know.”

Saying this the captain gently lifted up some of the leaves which formed the side of the hut, and crept out. His words and tone gave me great encouragement. I wished that I could have gone with him, but I knew that I must obey him.

O how anxiously I waited his return! Minute after minute passed away, and still he did not come back. I began to fear that some harm had happened to him—that he might have fallen over the precipice in the dark, or have been captured. It never for a moment occurred to me that he would desert me. An hour or more must have passed. Still he did not appear. I began to consider whether I could not creep out to search for him. I could have loosened from off me the ropes which bound my arms in an instant; but I did not want to do so unless I was prepared to run away altogether. I have heard of people’s hair turning grey in a night; mine would, I think, have done so with anxiety had I been older.

At last the side of the hut was lifted up, and the captain crawled in, and placed himself on the litter on which he had been brought to the place. “Quick, Jack,” he whispered, “put the ropes round me as they were before! Those blacks are more wide-awake rascals than I fancied. I have been most of the time lying down not twenty yards from the hut, afraid to move. I was creeping along when I saw a black fellow, with musket on shoulder, emerge from behind a hut. He stood for some time looking directly at me, as if he had seen me. He had not though; but directly afterwards he began pacing up and down with the steadiness of an old soldier. I crept on when his back was turned, but never could move far enough before he was about again, and scrutinising all the ground before him. The only direction in which I could move without the certainty of being seen was towards this spot, so back again I have come, with the hope still strong that we might find some other way of escaping. Once or twice I thought of springing up and killing the man; but in so doing I should very likely have roused others, and we should have lost any future chance of escaping.”

This result of the captain’s expedition put me into low spirits again, for I fully expected that the blacks would kill us all in the morning, and my only surprise was that they had not so done already. I did not say so to the captain, but he, having with his teeth secured the bands round my arms again, I went and sat down where the blacks had first placed me. I did not sleep soundly again, nor did he. I sat silent, anxiously waiting for the morning.

I think I must have gone off into a doze, when, before daybreak, I was roused up by a chorus of loud cries and shouts, which was soon answered by every man, woman, and child in the village, who came rushing out of their huts. It was to welcome, I found, a party of their comrades from an attack on one of the neighbouring estates, in which they had come off the victors, with numerous prisoners and much spoil. There began, as before, a horrible din of tom-toms and other musical instruments, mixed with the very far from musical voices of the old women who had been tormenting us. This continued till the sun rose, and then there was a comparative silence for an hour or so. I suppose the savages were breakfasting. An this time we were left in suspense as to what was to be our fate. We did not talk much, and, of course, did not allude to any plan for escaping, lest we should be overheard.

At last several stout negroes entered the hut, and while some of them lifted up the captain and carried him out, two seized me by the collar, and dragged me after him. I thought that they were about to throw us over the cliffs, or to hang us or shoot us forthwith. I could only think of one way by which we had the slightest prospect of escaping. It was that the government authorities might have heard of the outbreak, and sent troops to attack the rebels. I did not know in those days that those sort of gentlemen considered the art of tying up packages neatly with red tape to be the most important of their official duties, and that they were not apt to do anything in a hurry of so trifling importance as attempting to save the lives of a few people!

We very soon reached a large concourse of people in an open space. On one side of the ground there was a steep bank, on the top of which a chair or throne was placed, whereon sat a tall fine-looking negro, dressed somewhat in military style, while a number of other men sat round him. On the level ground, on one side, was a group of some twenty white men, among whom I recognised our companions in the defence of the house. They had their hands bound, and were strongly guarded by armed negroes. We were carried up and placed among them. Two or three other prisoners arrived after us, and served to increase our unhappy group.

A sort of trial was then commenced, and several Maroons stepped forward, accusing the whites of unheard-of cruelties, and especially of being taken with arms in our hands against the authority of the true and proper chief of the island. It is impossible to describe the absurd language used, and the ceremonies gone through. It would have been a complete burlesque had not the matter been somewhat too serious. As it was, when one of the counsellors kicked another for interrupting him, and the judge threw a calabash at their heads to call them to order, I could not help bursting into a fit of laughter, which was soon quelled when one of my guards gave me a progue with the tip of his spear, to remind me where I was. I very nearly broke out again when the one who was hit looked up and exclaimed, “What dat for, Pompey, you scoundrel you?—What you tink me made of, hey?”

The judge took no notice of this address, but coolly went on summing up the evidence placed before him. It was, I must own, clearly condemnatory of most of the prisoners. On the oaths of the negro witnesses, they were proved to have committed the most atrocious acts. Some had hung blacks for no sufficient cause, or had shot them, or had beaten them to death, or even burned them, or had tortured them with every refinement of cruelty. Scarcely one present who had not given way to passion, and barbarously ill-treated their slaves, or caused them to submit to the greatest indignity. At length the judge rose from his seat. He was a remarkably fine, tall man, and as he stretched out one arm towards the prisoners, I could not help acknowledging that there was much grace and dignity in his whole air and manner. To what had been adduced by others, he added the weight of his own testimony.

“Me prince not long ago in me own country,—me would be king now,—me carried off—beaten—kicked—wife torn away—me piccaninnis killed—me made to work with whip—beat, beat, beat on shoulders—me run away—nearly starve and die. Dose men do all dat, and much worse! Day deserve to die! Shoot dem all—quick! De earth hate dem—no stay on it longer!” I cannot pretend to say that these were the exact words used by the chief, but they had a similar signification.

Immediately we were all seized, each prisoner being held by four blacks, and marched along to an open space near the edge of the precipice. A firing-party of twenty blacks, which had been told off, followed us, their horrible grins showing the intense satisfaction they felt at being our executioners. The judge or chief and all the rest of the people accompanied us as spectators. The captain was carried along on his litter, for the negroes had conceived a very just idea of his prowess, and kept him, as they fancied, more strongly secured than was necessary with regard to the rest. I stood near him waiting the result.

Things were now, indeed, looking very serious, and I could not see by what possible means we should escape. Still, there was so much buoyancy in my disposition, that, even then, I did not give up all hope. I am afraid that I cannot say I was sustained by any higher principle. The thought of what death was, did, however, come over me; and I tried to pray, to prepare myself for the world into which I saw every probability that I was about to enter. Still, though I wanted to pray, and wished to go to heaven, I made but a very feeble attempt to do so. I had been so long unaccustomed to pray, that I could not now find the thoughts or the words required. My heart was not in a praying state. I had not sought reconciliation with God. I did not know in what to trust, through whom I could alone go into the presence of my Maker cleansed from my sins, relieved from the weight of the sinful nature in which I was born. Of all this I remained perfectly ignorant. I felt very wretched, like a drowning wretch without a spar or a plank of which I might catch hold.

I learned, however, an important lesson. Oh! do you, who read this notice of my life, learn it from me. Do not suppose that the time is coming when you may begin to prepare for another world. The time is come now with all of you. From the period you entered this world, from the moment the power of thought and speech was given you, the time had arrived for you prepare for the world to come—that eternal world of glory and joy unspeakable, or of misery, regret, and anguish. Remember this—note it well—don’t ever let it be out of your thoughts. You were sent into this transient, fleeting world, for one sole object—that you might prepare yourselves in it for the everlasting future. Not that you might amuse yourselves—not that you might gain wealth, and honours, and reputation—not that you might study hard, and obtain prizes at school or college—that you might be the leader in all manly—exercises—that you might speak well, or sing well, or draw well, or attain excellence in science—or that you might become rich merchants, or judges, or generals, or admirals, or ambassadors, or, indeed, attain the head of any professions you may choose. These things are all lawful; it may be your duty thus to rise, but it should not be your aim, it should not alone be in your thoughts; you should have a far higher motive for labouring hard, for employing your talents: that motive should be to please God, to obey the laws and precepts of our Lord and Master. All should be done from love to him. If you have not got that love for him, pray for it, strive for it, look for guidance from above that you may obtain it.

But, as I was saying, in those days I could not have comprehended what I have now been speaking about. Finding my efforts to pray almost unavailing, I did pray for deliverance, though I waited my fate in sullen indifference, or rather, indeed, somewhat as if I was an unconcerned spectator of what was taking place.

The chief lifted his arm on high as a sign that the execution was to commence. The first person led forward was the planter whose house we had attempted to defend. Oh! what scorn, and loathing, and defiance there was depicted in his countenance! What triumph and hatred in that of his executioners! Should such feelings find room in the bosom of a dying Christian? I wot not. Again the fatal sign was given. The firing-party discharged their muskets, and the planter fell a lifeless corpse. I tried to turn my eyes away from the scene, but they were rivetted on the spot.

---

The little schooner very soon got her cargo on board, and we then put to sea, to return to the brig. We had to make a long reach off-shore to weather a headland, which ran out towards the north, and we were just about to tack when the wind, which had been very light, failed us altogether. There we lay, with our sides lazily lapping up the burnished water, and throwing it off again in showers of sparkling drops, as we rolled away helplessly in the swell. At the same time a strong current was running, which was setting us imperceptibly off-shore. However, after having been exposed to it for three or four hours, I found, on looking up, that we had very much increased our distance from the land. The day passed away and the night came, and there we lay like a log in the water, drifting further and further from the land.

It was truly a solemn night. Every star which floated in the vast expanse above us was reflected on the surface of the deep; and as I looked over the side, I fancied that I could see numberless bright orbs floating far, far down in the limpid water. Strange sounds reached my ears. Suppressed shrieks, and groans, and cries—loud hisses, and murmuring voices, and strange monsters came up from their rocky weed-covered homes, their fins sparkling, and their eyes flashing as they clove through the sea. Some would now and again spring into the air and fall back with a loud splash. Others, of huge bulk, I thought, would come and float silently, looking at the little schooner, an intruder on their domain, seemingly devising means how they might drive her from it. I ought to have been below resting, as the captain had ordered me, but I was hot and feverish, and could not remain in the close atmosphere of the forepeak. As I stood gazing at the sea, I thought I saw the forms of all the unhappy men murdered by the Maroons pass before me. Each countenance bore the agonised look which I had beheld before the fatal signal was given to the firing-party to perform the work of death. They stretched out their hands to me to help them, and moaned piteously, as I stood spell-bound, unable to move. One after the other they came gliding by, and then sank down into the water ahead of the schooner. I could stand the dreadful sight no longer, and shrieked out in an attempt to go and help them.

“What’s the matter, lad?” said the voice of Peter Poplar close to my ear. “You are overtired—no wonder. Here—I have put a mattress and a blanket for you under shelter. Lie down and take a little rest. You’ll want to use your strength perhaps before long. A sailor should always eat when he can, and take his sleep when he can. He is never certain when he may have to go without either food or rest.”

I took Peter’s advice, and very soon the feelings which oppressed me wore off, and I fell soundly asleep.

I did not awake till the bright sun was just rising out of the mirror-like sea. The calm was as perfect as before; and when I looked for the land, I could only just make out its blue and hazy mountains rising out of the ocean. Hot enough the weather was; but as the sun glided upwards in the sky, a thick mist was drawn over the whole face of nature. The captain and Mr Gale were on deck, and I saw them scanning the horizon anxiously on every side. They seemed far from satisfied with the look of the weather. Still for some time they could not make up their minds how to act.

“What’s going to happen now?” said I to Peter some time after this.

“Do you remember the breeze we had in Kingston Harbour on your first voyage?” he asked.

“What? the hurricane do you mean? Indeed I do,” I replied. “I hope we are not going to have such another in this little craft out here.”

“I’m not so sure of that, Jack,” he replied. “The captain begins to think so likewise. He’ll be for making everything snug, if I mistake not.”

Peter was right. The order was soon given to strike topmasts, to furl sails, to set up the rigging, to fasten down the hatches, to secure everything below, and to lash the boats and all spare spars on deck. Everything that could be accomplished was done to prepare the little craft for the expected tempest.

Still everything around us was so calm and quiet that it required no little faith in the judgment of our officers to believe that all this preparation was necessary. Much in the same way do men feel it difficult to believe in the importance of preparing for another world, when the tide of prosperity carries them along, without care or anxiety, over the sea of life. I have often thought that a gale of wind, a lee-shore on a dark night, and the risk of shipwreck, are of use to seamen, to make them prepare for the dangers which sooner or later must come upon them. So are all misfortunes—pain, sorrow, loss of friends, deprivation of worldly honours or position—sent to remind people that this world is not their abiding-place; that they are sent into it only that they may have the opportunity of preparing in it for another and a better world, which will last for eternity.

Hour after hour passed away. Still the calm continued. I suspect the officers themselves began to doubt whether the looked-for hurricane would ever come. I asked Peter what he thought about it.

“Come! ay, that it will,” he replied. “More reason that it will come with all its strength and fury because it is delayed. Look out there! do you see that?”

He pointed towards the now distant land. A dark cloud seemed to be rushing out from that direction, and extending rapidly on either side, while below the cloud a long line of white foam came hissing and rolling on towards us. As it reached the spot where we lay, the little vessel heeled over till I thought she would never rise again, and then she was turned round and round as if she had been a piece of straw. Loudly roared and howled the fierce blast, and on she drove helplessly before it. Every instant the sea rose higher and higher, and the schooner began to pitch, and toss, and tumble about, till I thought she would have been shaken to pieces.

“Peter,” said I, “we are in a bad way, I am afraid.”

“We should have been in a very much worse way had the wind come from another quarter, and driven us towards the land,” he replied, gravely. “Some of the people had begun to grumble because we had been drifted so far off-shore. We may now be thankful that we were not caught nearer to it, and have already made so much offing. We shall very likely have it round again, and then we shall require all the distance we have come to drive in, and none to spare.”

“I was thinking of the chance we have of going to the bottom,” said I, looking at the huge seas which kept tumbling tumultuously around us.

“Not much fear of that,” he answered. “We are in a strongly-built and tight little craft; and as long as she keeps off-shore, she’ll swim, I hope.”

Peter’s prognostications as to a shift of the wind were speedily fulfilled, and we found the vessel driving as rapidly towards the dreaded shore as she had before been carried from it. To struggle against it was hopeless; our only prospect of safety, should she be blown on it, was to find some creek or river into which we might run; but the probabilities of our finding such a shelter were so very remote, that all we could do was to pray that we might once more be driven away from the treacherous land. Happily such was our fate. Another eddy, as it were, of the whirlwind caught us, and once more we went flying away towards the coast of Cuba. That was, however, so far distant that there was but little fear but that the tempest would have spent its fury long before we could reach it. No sail could be set; but the vessel being in good trim, answered her helm, and kept before the wind.

Away! away we flew! surrounded with sheets of hissing foam, the wild waters dancing up madly on every side, threatening, should we stop but for a moment in our course, to sweep over our decks! Even careless as I then was, I could not help feeling grateful that we were not driving on towards a shore which must speedily stop us in our career; and I thought of the many poor fellows who would that day meet a watery grave, their vessels cast helplessly on the sea-beat rocks. As the wind took us along with it, we got more than our fair share of the hurricane; and the night came on while we were still scudding on, exposed to its fury.

If the scene was wild in the day-time, much more so was it when we were surrounded by darkness, and a thousand unseen horrors presented themselves to our imagination. Though I was not very easily overcome, I had suffered so much lately that I felt that I could not endure much longer the continuance of this sort of work. At last I fell into a sort of stupor, and I believe that I should have been washed overboard had not Peter secured me to the rigging, close to himself. I knew nothing more till I awoke and found myself lying on the deck, with the sun glancing brightly over the sparkling waters; the schooner, with all sail set, close-hauled, and a gentle breeze blowing. On one side was seen a range of blue hills rising out of the ocean. Peter was kneeling by my side.

“Get up, Jack,” said he; “you’ve had a long snooze, but you wanted it, lad, I’m sure. There’s some breakfast for you; it will do you good after all you have gone through.”

I thanked my kind friend, and swallowed the cocoa and biscuit which he brought me with no little relish.

“What! have we so soon got back to Jamaica?” said I, looking over the side, and seeing the blue ranges of hills I have spoken of.

“Jamaica! no, lad—I wish it was,” he replied. “That’s the island of Cuba; and from what I know of it, I wish that we were further off than we are. Some ugly customers inhabit it! There has been a suspicious-looking craft for the last hour or so standing out from the land towards us, and as she has long sweeps, she is making good way. I suspect the captain don’t admire her looks, for I have never seen him in such a way before from the moment he came on deck and caught sight of her. If we were in the brig we need not have been afraid of her, but in this little cockle-shell we cannot do much to help ourselves.”

“We can fight, surely!” said I. “We have arms, have we not?”

“What can eight or ten men do against forty or fifty cut-throats, which probably that craft out there has on board?” answered Peter. “We’ll do our best, however.”

The approaching vessel was lateen-rigged, with two masts, and of great beam; and though low in the water, and at a distance looking small, capable of carrying a considerable number of men. Certainly she had a very dishonest appearance. I saw the captain often anxiously looking out on the weather-side, as if for a sign of more wind; but the gentle breeze just filled our sails, and gave the craft little more than steerage-way. All hands kept whistling away most energetically for a stronger wind, but it would not come. The felucca, however, sailed very fast. As we could not get out of her way, the captain hailed, and very politely asked her to get out of ours, or rather to steer clear of us. Instead of replying, or acting according to his request, some forty ugly fellows or more, of every hue, from jet-black to white, and in every style of costume, sprung up on her decks from below, and directly afterwards she ranged up alongside of us. The captain, on this, ordered her to sheer off; but instead of so doing, grappling-irons were thrown aboard us, and her fierce-looking crew made a rush to leap on our deck. They were met, however, by our captain, Mr Gale, Peter, and the rest of our people, who, with pistol and cutlass in hand, were prepared to dispute their passage.

The pirates, for such there could be no doubt our visitors were, had four or more guns mounted on their deck; but they seemed resolved to depend rather on their overwhelming numbers than on them for victory. They had not calculated, apparently, what a few determined men could do. “Stand back, ye scoundrels!” shouted our brave captain, in a voice which made the ruffians look up with amazement, though I do not think they understood his words. He gave them further force by a sweep of his cutlass, with which he cut off the head of the nearest of his assailants. Peter, whose arm was almost as powerful, treated another in the same way; and Mr Gale knocked a third over with his pistol before any of them had time to get hold of our rigging. This determined resistance caused them to draw back for an instant, which enabled Peter, with one of the other men, to cast loose the grappling-irons forward. At the same time two of the pirates, who were attempting to leap on board, were dealt such heavy blows on the head that they were knocked overboard before any of their companions could help them. “Well done, my lads!” cried the captain. “Keep up the game in this way, and we may yet beat off the villains!” Saying this he sprang aft to drive back a gang of the pirates, who were attempting to board on our quarter. Two of the first paid dearly for their temerity, and were cut down by either the captain or Mr Gale. I got a long pike, and kept poking away over the bulwarks at every fellow I could reach. Several pistols were fired at me, but missed their aim; but at last the pike was dragged out of my hands, and thrown overboard. Unfortunately there was so little wind that the pirates, by getting out a sweep on the opposite side of their vessel, brought her head aboard, and at the same time made a rush to get on our deck. Peter, with two of our men, hurried to repel them; but a bullet at that moment struck one of them on the breast, and knocked him over. Poor fellow! I tried to save him as he fell; but the heavy way in which he came to the deck showed me that his fighting days were over. I ran to help Peter and my other shipmates, but the pirates pressed us so hard that we had little hope of keeping them out. In the meantime also a stout active little Spaniard, followed by two or three blacks and another white man, made a spring at our bulwarks about midships; and though one of our men, Tom Hardy, most bravely threw himself before them, they gained the deck, and cut him down before any further opposition could be offered. Others followed them, and gaining the whole centre part of the vessel, our crew were completely divided. We had lost two men. Thus the captain, Mr Gale, and one man held the deck aft; while Peter, another man, and I still stood at our post forward. But what could we hope to do against the crowd of ruffians who swarmed on board? At the same moment they pressed towards us and the captain, and would have carried us overboard had we not sung out, and asked for quarter. The bravery which the captain and the rest had displayed seemed to have won their admiration and respect; for instead of cutting us down and throwing us into the sea, they instantly granted us the quarter we asked. Our arms were taken from us, and we were ordered to go on board the felucca, while the pirates proceeded to rifle the schooner. Except the hogsheads of sugar, which would not have been of much use to them, they found very little, I suspect, to repay them for the heavy cost of our capture. The vessel, however, would probably have been of some value to them, as she was a fine little craft.

The schooner having a crew put on board her, the two vessels stood away to the westward. Peter told me that he suspected we were bound to one of the numerous small islands—keys they are called—which are found in great numbers off the south coast of Cuba. We were allowed to walk about the deck without molestation; but our position was far from a pleasant one, for any moment our captors might take it into their heads to make us walk the plank, or to get rid of us by some other means. I had never seen a person made to walk the plank, but I had heard it described as a favourite method employed by pirates to get rid of their prisoners. A long plank is run out over the side, and the victim, blindfolded, is made to walk along it. When he gets to the outer end, the inner part is tilted up, and he is slid into the sea. I earnestly prayed that such might not be our fate, and yet I could not see what better we could expect. We had evidently fallen into the hands of desperate outlaws, not likely to be influenced by any of the dictates of humanity. At all events, we were likely to be kept prisoners, and probably made to work as slaves for these villains, without a chance of escaping. The captain seemed most cast down. He would, of course, most certainly be thought to be lost. His vessel would sail without him, and report his death at home. As he was a married man, with several children, the trial was indeed great to him.

I tried to make out who was the captain of the pirates, but they appeared at first to me to be all equal. A fat, sturdy mulatto, was, I after a time suspected, the chief mate, or one of the principal officers; and the Spaniard, who had first succeeded in boarding us, was another. Not one of them spoke a word of English, though from the first I suspected that two or more of the white men understood it, if they were not Englishmen or people from the American colonies. At all events, I followed Peter’s advice—not to say anything about which it might be well not to have heard. I have often seen people get into great scrapes, and bring most disagreeable consequences on themselves, from disregarding that rule. Never say anything among foreigners, in your own or any other language, which you do not wish them to understand; or even give expression to your feelings in looks, which even savages, you should remember, can frequently comprehend.

Our two poor shipmates who had been wounded died, I hope, before we left the schooner. At all events, the pirates threw them overboard. Including Peter and me, there were thus only three foremast-men, besides the blacks, and a mulatto who had been shipped as pilot for the trip round the coast. We all kept together sitting on and about one of the guns; but very little conversation passed between us. The captain and Mr Gale walked the deck near us, but they said very little to each other. A negro brought us, towards the evening, a large dish of farina, with some sort of meat stewed in it. Though not over pleasant to the look, it was acceptable enough to hungry men, for we had had nothing to eat since the morning. A more palatable-looking dish was placed before the captain and Mr Gale. This care of us showed that they did not, at all events, intend to starve us to death, as they would scarcely have fed people whom they intended to kill.

I observed the Spaniard and the mulatto mate occasionally going down an after-hatchway, which I supposed led into the chief cabin, but for what reason they went I could not tell; and I observed that whenever the captain and Mr Gale approached the spot, a guard stationed there turned them back. When night came on, a sail was handed to us, which we spread over the gun, and crept under it; and I observed that a couple of mattresses were sent on deck, and that a sail was secured over the bulwarks, to make a somewhat better tent for our officers.

We passed the whole of the next day much as we had done the first. The black, and white, and coloured crew did not regard us with very friendly looks; but they did not molest us. A dark-skinned lad would, however, occasionally come up to me when neither of the mates were looking, and touching a formidable-looking knife he wore in his sheath, signify that he should enjoy running the point into me. Some relation of his had been among the men killed, and this made him feel bitter towards us. Peter, who saw the action, advised me to remain quiet, and to take no notice of it. “He only wants an excuse for a quarrel, and therefore, unless you wish to please him, do not give it,” observed my friend. I followed his advice, not only at the present, but on many future occasions, and thus avoided many of the quarrels and disputes into which I saw others plunged. The men who brought us our food growled a little at us, as if they would much rather have been making us food for the fish; but as we made them no answer, they went away and left us to ourselves. As the wind was generally light, we did not make much progress. Thus another night passed away.

When the morning of the next day broke, I saw that we were running in among reefs, which I could tell by the ripple of the otherwise calm water breaking over them. Ahead was a low sandy shore, mangrove-bushes lining some portion of it, with palms and plantains, and a few other tropical trees, rising beyond them. As we sailed on, threading the glass-like channels, the sun rose higher and higher, and shone down with intense heat on our heads, drawing forth, at the same time, a thin gauze-like mist over the whole scene. “This is a regular trap,” observed Peter. “If a man once gets in here, I defy him to find his way out again, unless he was born and bred on the spot.” The captain and Mr Gale were watching the progress of the vessel, and tried to look as unconcerned as possible; but they were evidently considering if it were possible to take a vessel out by the way they had come in.

At length we entered the mouth of a narrow creek, lined with the mangrove-bushes I have spoken of on either side; some growing in the bright pure water, others with their branches just dipping into the clear liquid, and so distinctly reflected that I could not tell where the real bough ended and its phantom-likeness began. After running on for half a mile, and making frequent turns, we found ourselves in a wide lagoon, several other craft of different sizes and rigs being at anchor in it. On shore, there was a collection of large wooden sheds looking like stores, and some huts, and a few buildings of more pretensions, apparently dwelling-houses. There was nothing like order or regularity in the arrangement of the village; but each store or cottage seemed to have been placed as suited the fancy of the owner, the whole wearing a very nautical, shipwreck appearance. Many of the roofs were formed of the bottoms of boats; sails, with a coating of paint or tar, were nailed over others; and the planks and ribs of vessels had entered largely into the construction of all the edifices. I made these observations as we were shortening sail and coming to an anchor. It was very clearly a pirate stronghold, and had been probably so for some years. The pirates had allowed us to remain on deck and see the approach to it, evidently trusting to the difficulties of the navigation to prevent any of us finding our way out of it, or in again, should we obtain our liberty. Though art had done nothing, nature had done everything to make the place impregnable, unless a pilot could be found to show an enemy the way. Against such a result they had several safeguards: each man of this fraternity had bound himself by an oath not to betray any of their secrets. The Spanish authorities took very little cognisance of them, as their own vessels were not attacked; while at that time the governors of the West India Islands did not trouble themselves much about rooting out piracy; and it was only when some act of especial atrocity had been committed, that, if a man-of-war was in the way, she was sent in chase of the pirate.

As soon as we had dropped our anchor, several boats came off from the shore with people eager to learn the news we brought. They looked suspiciously at us, and seemed not very well satisfied at the result of their inquiries. It was far from pleasant to see a number of cut-throat-looking fellows parading up and down before us with their hands on the hilts of their long knives, with which they kept playing as if anxious to try their temper in our bodies. Captain Helfrich stood all the time with folded arms leaning against the bulwarks, and all we could do was to imitate his example. I was not sorry, however, when the mulatto mate intimated to us that we were to get into the boat and go on shore, as I thought that we should then probably be more out of the way of our irascible-looking friends. We were ordered into one boat with Mr Gale, while the captain was carried away in another. This seriously excited our apprehension, as we could not tell what evil might be intended him. He, however, though very grave, seemed to be under no apprehension, but stepped into the boat as if he was going on shore on his own business.

As soon as we landed, we were marched up to one of the store-like buildings; and a ladder being shown us, up which we went through a trap which closed behind us, we found ourselves in a large airy loft. The furniture consisted of some heaps of the straw or leaves of Indian corn. It looked clean, and was, therefore, more suited to our wants than would have been any number of pieces of the handsomest furniture—such as marble tables, mahogany sideboards, satin-wood wardrobes, or gold and china vases. As Peter observed, when he threw himself on one of the heaps: “Never mind, my lads, we’re rich if we’ve got what we want. If our friends below would send us up a dish of turtle and rice, or some of their ollas, we, at any rate, shall have no reason to complain of our lot. We shall get out of this one of these days; so, in the meantime, let us make ourselves comfortable.” Peter’s good temper kept up the spirits of the rest of our party. I have often found the advantage of having a person like Peter among a number of people placed in circumstances like ours, either in prison, or cast away, or detained in some disagreeable place; and I have, therefore, always endeavoured to imitate him in that respect, as well as in others, by keeping up my own spirits, and by cheering my companions in misfortune. Mr Gale, under most circumstances, would have contributed to support us; but on the present occasion he was evidently too much weighed down with grave apprehensions as to what was likely to befall us all, to act as he would otherwise have done. Not having anything else to do, and being very tired, we all went to sleep.

After some hours, for the sun was low by that time, we were awoke. Hearing a bolt being withdrawn, and looking up, I saw the trap lifted, and a negro appeared. On his head he carried a large bowl, with some wooden spoons in it. He placed the bowl before us, and signified that we might eat its contents. Curiously enough, it contained the very thing Peter had been wishing for—a stew of turtle and rice, a thing not to be despised by hungry men. It was very good, I know. After eating it, we went to sleep again, and for my own part I did not awake till daylight. After some time, a bowl of a sort of porridge was brought us, and some plantains, which, with pork, forms the common food of the people of Cuba. Twice in the day food was brought us. It was both abundant and good, so that we had no reason to complain of the way the pirates treated us. The great puzzle was to discover why it was that they were so civil. Had they kept us on bread and water, and spared our lives, we should have had reason to be grateful; as the usual mode of proceeding of such gentry, we understood, always was to shoot all who would not take the oaths and join them.

We were not allowed to go out of the place, or to hold intercourse with anybody. The only light which was let into the place came from a hole in the roof above our heads. It was so placed that we could not manage to climb up to it. I managed, however, to find a chink in the floor, near the trap; and whenever I looked through it, I saw a man with a musket standing there as a guard.

Three or four days thus passed away. We could hear nothing of the captain, for the only person we saw was the negro, and when we asked him, he only shook his head, and intimated that he did not understand what we said. Mr Gale, after a time, aroused himself, and gave us instructions in various matters; and Peter and one of the other men told some capital stories, and we all took it by turns to sing songs. I was not a bad hand at that, by-the-by; I had learned several as a child, and had picked up others since then, and as my voice was a good one, my songs were generally favourites.

The time, however, began to hang rather heavily on our hands, when one evening a stranger made his appearance, and looking at me, said in English, “Youngster, you are wanted.” I was startled at hearing the sound of an English voice; but I, of course, thought the captain wanted me, so I went, very willing to accompany him. The trap was bolted behind me. He took me to one of the largest cottages I had observed, and entering it, pointed to a door, and told me to go in. I did so, and there I saw seated at a table the identical old gentleman whom I believed to be called Captain Ralph. He did not look a day older than when he came on board the Rainbow off Saint Kitt’s, and he wore the same old-fashioned three-cornered hat and laced-coat.

“You have seen me before, lad,” said he, eyeing me closely.

“Yes, sir,” said I, resolving to be frank with him; “on board the Rainbow.”

“You are attached to your captain, and would wish to do him a service?” he added.

“Yes, sir,” said I. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tell him that all his people have taken the oaths and joined the confederacy,” he answered, looking at me hard.

“I don’t know what oaths, or what else you mean, sir,” I answered. “I cannot tell him anything that is not true.”

“What? a ship-boy with a conscience?” he exclaimed, bursting into a fit of laughter. “I tell you, lad, you must do as you are bid.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do what my captain tells me,” I replied, simply. “But for the matter of saying anything to deceive him, I won’t do it. I’ll tell him the truth, and then he’ll know how to act.”

He looked at me very hard for a moment or so, and then rang a bell by his side. From what he had said, I hoped that the captain was safe and well. The same man who had brought me in appeared.

“Send Diego here to take care of this youngster, and bring in one of the other men, the tall one—I will try what I can make of him,” he said; and the white man disappeared.

Directly afterwards, a sturdy black man came in. Captain Ralph pointed to me. He seized me by the collar, and held me a prisoner on one side of the room. In a short time Peter was brought in.

“You find life and liberty sweet, my man?” said the old gentleman, addressing him.

“I’ve no objection to either,” answered Peter sturdily.

“You’ve been well-treated since you’ve been here?” said Captain Ralph.

“I’ve no reason to complain,” was Peter’s laconic reply.

“Very well; you may judge that I do not wish you ill,” observed Captain Ralph. “Now, I won’t conceal it from you, we have a body of people on this island who don’t own any laws except those of our own making. A large number of them are Spaniards, and I want a few honest Englishmen, who will stick by one another, to join us. What do you say? Are you inclined to join us? Your captain will, I have no doubt, and so will this lad and the rest of your shipmates.”

I shook my head. Captain Ralph did not see me, but the negro did, and gave me a cuff on the head in consequence. I had not fancied that the negro understood English, but from this circumstance I have no doubt he did.

Peter gave a hitch to his trousers when the question was put to him, and then vehemently scratched his head. “Look ye here, sir,” he answered in a firm voice, which showed that he had made up his mind how to act, “I am much obliged for the treatment I and my shipmates have received since we came to this place, barring the being kept inside a sort of prison, so to speak; but you must just understand, sir, that I’ve been brought up to be an honest man, and an honest man I hope to remain to the end of my days; and so, as to taking any oath to turn pirate, or in any way to associate with those who do, I’ll not do it. So now you’ve my answer.”

The pirate chief—for so I may as well at once call him—seemed to be somewhat taken aback at this answer; but he laughed as I had before heard him. “You Rainbow lads have odd notions of your own about honesty! We’ll see what the rest of you have to say on the subject.”

Mr Gale was next sent for. He, as may be supposed, at once refused to join the pirates. The other men, fancying that we had joined them, promised to do so; but it struck me that Captain Ralph did not look particularly well satisfied at hearing their reply.

What his intentions were we could not tell, for he ordered us all at once to be taken back to our place of confinement, under a guard of five or six men, who stood outside ready for that purpose. What had become of the captain puzzled us most to discover. We said nothing, however, as we went along, for we were pretty certain that the people who had charge of us perfectly understood English, if they were not mostly Englishmen.

We remained two or three days longer shut up, in a state of great doubt and uncertainty. Sometimes we fancied that we should be taken out and shot; at others, that we might be set at liberty. However, I could not help hoping that Captain Ralph was well-disposed towards us. What the pirates were about all this time we could not tell; but we supposed that they could scarcely remain idle, and if we were to make our escape at all, we looked forward to the time when the greater portion were gone away on some expedition.

We very soon got tired of not being able to see what was going forward in the outer world. We accordingly hunted about the roof, to find a spot where we could remove the shingles, or split planks of wood which formed it, without leaving any marks which might be observed. This, after a little time, we succeeded in doing with our knives; and thus we formed a look-out hole on each side of the building. On one side, we could see all over the harbour; on another, we looked down towards the mouth; a third looked over a very uninviting country inland, with the mountains of Cuba seen in the far distance, blue and indistinct; while, by looking through the fourth, we discovered that we were separated from the open sea by a piece of land little more than a mile in width. We could not, of course, see what was going forward close under the buildings, but we could observe the movements of people on shore at a little distance off. Our ears, however, helped us when our eyesight failed. One of us was always on the look-out at each hole, while the fifth kept watch at the chink, to give timely notice of anybody’s approach to the ladder.

For some days we had observed the people busily employed in fitting, rigging, and in shaping and altering spars. At length there was an unusual bustle, and boats were continually going backwards and forwards between the vessels, carrying stores of various sorts. It was clear that there was at length an expedition on foot. We naturally fancied that it would produce some change in our position, but whether for better or worse remained to be seen.

The next morning the harbour was covered with boats carrying people on board the vessels; and directly afterwards six of them got under way, and stood out towards the sea. Whether or not Captain Ralph went with them we could not discover. We could not perceive our own schooner in the harbour, but there was a vessel which we thought might be her lying out towards the mouth of the creek. There were still, we remarked, a good number of people left on the island. We saw them moving about in all directions for some hours after the fleet had sailed, and then they retired into the huts and sheds which served as their homes. Such was the state of things when we lay down to rest that night.

About midnight, we were startled by hearing the trap-door lifted. At the same time a man appeared with a lantern in his hand. I recognised him as the person who had conducted me to the presence of Captain Ralph.

“I have come here as a friend, my men,” he said in a low voice, putting down the lantern. “You have shown that you can be faithful to your own captain, and mine, therefore, believes that he can trust you to do him a service. Is he right?”

“Yes,” answered Mr Gale, speaking for the rest of us; “anything which, as honest men, we can do to help him we will gladly undertake.”

“That’s right,” said the stranger. “You must know, then, that we have here men of various nations. Many of them are Spaniards. They and other foreigners have lately been growing more and more jealous of our captain. He has done two or three things lately to offend their prejudices, certainly. The consequence is, that they have hatched a conspiracy, which has just been discovered, to murder him and all the English in the place; you all will be among the first victims. In asking you to fight for us, I invite you to fight for your own lives. To show that I trust you, I have brought you some pistols and ammunition, and a bundle of swords done up in this sail. The villains have fixed on an hour before daybreak to begin the attack on us. Arm yourselves, and be ready to sally forth at a moment’s notice. They will sound a trumpet as a signal to their party to begin the work of slaughter. I will try to be here before then. If I am not, make your way to Captain Ralph’s quarters. He will have, before that, released your captain, who will put himself at your head. You will also be joined by four or five men, who, like me, will be glad to get away from this den, and regain our liberty at any cost. I must stay no longer, or I may be missed. Be prompt and firm, and we may come off conquerors. Remember, however, it is victory or death for all of us!”

These words came like a thunder-clap among us. We could scarcely believe our ears. Mr Gale, however, at once replied, that we would undertake exactly to follow the stranger’s directions, as we clearly understood the dangerous predicament in which we all stood. The instant he received our reply, he hurried from the loft, and we could see his figure from our loophole proceeding to the upper part of the settlement.

Our first care was to examine the package, which we found contained the arms he had promised. We immediately loaded the pistols, and buckled on the cutlasses, and then stood ready to descend at the expected signal. To men long shut up as we had been, any excitement is acceptable; so that, far from feeling any alarm at what we had heard, scarcely anything could have contributed so much to raise our spirits. I truly believe that we valued the prospect of obtaining our liberty much more from the chance of having to fight for it. We were only eager for the fray to begin. We could not tell exactly how we were to find out our enemies; but Mr Gale charged us not to attack anyone till we were attacked, unless we received directions from Captain Helfrich, or the stranger who had just visited us.

The state of things which existed, it appeared, among this community of sea-robbers, showed me a truth which I have since found frequently confirmed, that oaths are of little or no value among men who are continually breaking God’s laws. They are kept as a rule only as long as it is convenient or necessary to each individual to keep them; but the moment he thinks it to his advantage to break them, he does so without the slightest compunction. The terrific oaths which were supposed to bind together the ruffians of the Blackbeard school, were over and over again broken, and would never have been kept unless interest, or the lowest superstition, had held the ruffians faithful to them. The value of an oath, as a pledge taken in the sight of the Almighty God, they could not comprehend. Much the same was evidently the case in the present instance; and here there was every prospect of a long existing community of outlaws breaking up from internal dissensions. We could only earnestly hope that such might be their fate. “Depend on it, Jack, my boy,” said Peter to me, when talking on the subject, “there’s only one thing can bind men truly together, and that is honesty of purpose. Real friendship cannot exist among knaves.” In my long life I have invariably found his remarks verified.

Hour after hour passed away while we waited for the signal. Of course we were very anxious, but our spirits rather rose than fell as we talked over the various plans which it might be necessary for us to adopt to effect our escape. We had an advantage the pirate who visited us did not suspect: we had surveyed the ground from our look-out, and knew that our own schooner, or one like her, was at the mouth of the harbour. We agreed, as soon as we had driven back the Spaniards and their party, to set fire to their stores; and while they were endeavouring to put them out, to make a rush for the boats, and thus to effect our escape down the lagoon.

The night had become very silent—not a sound was heard, either on shore or on the water. There was a gentle land-breeze blowing, which would be all in our favour if once we could get to the vessel. Suddenly the shrill blast of a trumpet was heard. Peter gave one glance through the loophole, and said he saw torches flaming in the upper part of the village; and presently loud shouts and cries burst forth from the same direction. We slid down the ladder as fast as one could follow the other, Mr Gale leading. If a guard had been there, he had run off at the first sound of the trumpet. We hurried on in the direction we had been desired to take. We had not gone far when we were met by the stranger. “No time to lose; on, my lads!” he exclaimed, leading the way. Before us torches were waving, and there were the flashes of fire-arms. Their reports were heard, as was the clash of steel. We advanced together rapidly. Suddenly flames burst out of one of the large stores. The building itself and its contents, probably being of inflammable materials, blazed up fiercely, and its light fell on the figures of a number of men fighting desperately. One person was conspicuous above those of all the others. It was that of our own captain. As we saw him we raised a cheer, which must have reached his ears. He answered it with a shout such as few but he could give. Again we cheered, and dashed on with redoubled speed. We were but just in time to help him. He stood with his back against a wall, almost surrounded with enemies, bestriding the body of Captain Ralph; while his right hand wielded a huge sword, such as few but he could use to advantage. “On, my lads! Charge the villains!” he shouted. We needed not the command, but rushed against the mass of Spaniards, mulattoes, and blacks, who were besetting him, with such hearty good-will, and our attack being, at the same time, so unexpected, that we drove them back, helter-skelter, some hundred yards, killing and wounding a number of them in the way. We should have gone further, but we were recalled by the captain’s voice. We found him lifting Captain Ralph’s body in his arms. “To the boats! to the boats!” shouted some of the Englishmen, each of whom bore, I perceived, a considerable bundle on his shoulders. We, supporting our captain, followed the way they led. Five or six boats, with their oars and sails in them, were in the water at a rough wooden quay. We jumped into them, and shoved off.

Several English had been killed, and some had been wounded, whom their comrades had assisted to the water-side. The scene was lighted up by the blaze of several wooden stores and other buildings. Among them was Captain Ralph’s cottage. The lights from the flaming mass fell on a large body of Spaniards, who had rallied, and were advancing rapidly towards us. “It matters not,” shouted some of our new companions, with a laugh of derision; “they’ll find no boats to pursue us; and when they get back to their homes, they’ll discover that not a few of their gold ingots are gone. Hurrah! hurrah! Give way, my lads, though! They’ll bring their guns to bear upon us if we do not make good way down the creek.” We had all jumped into the nearest boats at hand, without any respect to order, and the stoutest hands had seized the oars. I found myself in the boat with my captain and Captain Ralph. The old man lay in the stern-sheets supported in my captain’s arms. He still lived, but he appeared to be badly wounded. Neither spoke for some time. The captain told me to take the yoke-lines, and to steer according to his directions. Peter pulled one of the oars, and our boat took the lead; but, to my surprise, my captain seemed to know all the turnings of the creek as well as any of the pirates.

We had got but a short distance when our opponents reached the side of the water, when, finding no boats, they began rapidly firing away at us. Though the light from the blazing buildings fell on us, it did not enable them to judge accurately of the distance we were from them, and most of their shot went over our heads. Though we had plenty of arms in the boat, we did not attempt to return their fire; but some of our lawless companions gave vent to their anger in shouts and execrations.

Wild as the scene had hitherto been, it was yet further heightened by a loud explosion, which sent fragments of burning embers falling even around the boats. At the sound, Captain Ralph raised his head and looked towards the village. “They have lost their expected prize, and many of them have received what they little expected!” he exclaimed, with that peculiar low laugh in which I had before heard him indulge. He had for the moment forgotten his condition. He was, I saw clearly, desperately wounded. The exertion of moving and speaking was greater than he could bear, and he sunk back into the captain’s arms.

The bullets were all this time flying thickly about the boats, though we were rapidly increasing our distance from the shore. Several of them had whistled by my ear. Then I heard one strike close to me with a peculiar dead sound. At the same moment a sharp, unearthly cry rung in my ear. It was uttered by Captain Ralph. “Helfrich!” he exclaimed, “they have done for me. I thought that I had secured all I required, and might live henceforth in peace. I die with unnumbered sins on my conscience, without one good act performed, with every advantage neglected, with a thousand opportunities of reformation thrown away. I have lived a life of imposture, outraging all laws, human and divine, and I die miserably without hope—without hope—without hope! Oh, save me! save me! save me!” The last words the miserable man gasped out with difficulty. Scarcely had he spoken them, when his head fell down over his breast, a convulsive shudder passed through his frame, and the once dreaded pirate was dead!

We touched at Gibraltar, that the captain might obtain information as to the ports he was to call at. Smyrna, we found, was to be our ultimate destination. He gave notice of the attack made on us by the pirate, and a brig of war was sent to look out for her. I shall have a good deal more to say about our turbaned friends by-and-by. Gibraltar I thought a wonderful place, with the face of its high rock, which stands out into the sea, cut full of galleries, and ports with heavy guns grinning from them in every direction. Of course, the seamen very often do not know at what port the ship is to touch, or whereabouts they are. Such was my case: I had never seen a chart of the Mediterranean. The first definite notion I got of it was from Peter, who afterwards drew one for me with a piece of chalk on the lid of his chest. I only knew that we were steering towards the east, and that we were likely to see several strange places and many strange people.

Some time after leaving Gibraltar, I had just come on deck one night to keep my watch, when out of the dark ocean, as it seemed, I saw a bright light burst forth and blaze up into the sky. I thought some ship must have blown up; but the light continued, and grew stronger and stronger, and reached higher and higher. The fire seemed to spout out, and then to fall in a shower on every side, something like the branches of a weeping ash, or some wide-spreading tree. The ship was standing towards it, and I thought we should certainly be burned.

“Oh, Peter, Peter,” I exclaimed, “what is the matter? Surely the world has caught fire, and we shall all be destroyed!”

“No fear of that just yet, lad,” he answered, laughing. “That’s only a burning island, which is called Stromboli. There are some mountains in these parts, as I have heard say, which send out such a quantity of hot stones, and ashes, and boiling earth, that whole towns, and villages, and fields are overwhelmed and buried. In those countries you may buy for a penny as much fruit as you can carry, and get as much wine as you can drink for twopence, while all sorts of other good things are very cheap; and the weather is almost always like summer. But, for my part, I would rather live in Old England, with the foul weather and the fair we get there, and a piece of beef, often somewhat hard to come at, than in a country where your house may any moment be knocked down by an earthquake or covered up with hot ashes. To my mind, all countries have their advantages and their drawbacks; and the great thing is, to be grateful for the one, and to learn how to guard against the other.”

We touched at several places on our passage. Malta was one of them. The English had not at that time taken possession of it.

At length we reached Smyrna, which is partly situated on level ground, the harbour backed by a lofty hill. There is more trade here than in any other place in the East. The climate, though hot, is very fine; but the place is often shaken by earthquakes, which have at times caused great destruction to lives and property. That dreadful scourge, also, the plague, is a frequent visitor. The former may truly be said to be beyond man’s control; but the latter is, I am certain, brought about very much by the dirty habits of the people, and their ill-ventilated and ill-drained habitations.

In the neighbourhood of Smyrna grow great quantities of figs, which are dried and packed in boxes and baskets. They formed part of our cargo home. We had likewise raisins and other dried fruits, and preserves, and rich silks and embroideries. None of the seamen were allowed to go on shore, for Christians were very likely to get insulted, if not ill-treated, by the Turks. In those days they used to look upon all Christians as dogs, and to behave towards them as such. Besides Turks, there were a great number of Jews and Greeks, and people from every part of the East, living at Smyrna; but all had to submit to the caprices and ignorance of the first.

I was not sorry when we once more made sail, with the ship’s head to the westward. We had a somewhat tedious passage down the Mediterranean, having frequent baffling or light winds. At times of the year gales, however, blow with great fury in that sea, though they seldom last long. Most to be dreaded are the sudden gales which, under the name of “white squalls,” have sent many a vessel, caught unprepared, to the bottom.

At last we reached Gibraltar again. The Captain inquired if anything had been seen of the pirate which had attempted to surprise us with her boats; but the brig of war had returned without hearing anything of her. We remained but a day at the Rock. We took on board there the crew of a ship which had foundered at sea, and had been brought in by a Greek brig which had picked them up, and, for a wonder, had not murdered them. However, as they were nearly naked, and had promised the Greeks a reward if they arrived in safety, more was to be got by keeping them alive than by killing them. We were thus very strongly manned.

Foul winds and a heavy gale made us stand a good way to the westward on our passage home, after getting clear of the Gut. Soon after sunrise one morning a sail was reported away to windward, running down towards us, the wind being about on her quarter. As she approached with all sail set, she appeared to be sailing very wildly; that is to say, instead of keeping a steady, straight course, her head went now on one side, now on the other, as if a drunken man was at the helm. The captain and mates were looking at her through their glasses.

“She looks like an English craft, by the cut of her canvas,” observed Mr Gale.

“I can make out the ensign at her peak, and there’s no doubt she is English,” answered the captain. “There is something wrong aboard her, however, depend on that. I suspect that they have had a fever among them, or the plague, and that all her people are sick, and they have not strength to shorten sail.”

“Perhaps there is a mutiny aboard, or the people are all quarrelling among each other,” observed Mr Gale. “I have known of such things: when the master and officers have ill-treated the men, the crew have risen against them, and either hove them overboard or confined them below, and carried the ship into an enemy’s port.”

I was surprised at the expression of the captain’s countenance while the mate was speaking. The words seemed to remind him, I thought, of some occurrence of his youth.

“Depend on it, Gale, no good ever came of such a deed,” he remarked. “Either the actors in such work have gone on all their lives afraid of detection, or have very speedily paid the penalty of it. Unless a man has become a hardened wretch, the recollection of such an act will throw a gloom over the whole of his after-life, and blight all his earthly prospects.”

“Not if he feels that he is forgiven, surely, sir,” said the mate, looking at him steadfastly. “Sincere repentance and firm trust in the merits of One who died for us will gain us that boon, I am certain. I am not learned in divinity, but this much I know and feel; and I believe that it is the sum and substance of what a Christian should know and feel.”

I had never heard Mr Gale speak in that way before. I did not know even that he was what is called a religious man. I certainly never heard him swear or abuse any of the men, or accuse them wrongfully, as too many officers do; but I just thought him a quiet, brave, amiable young man, who was content to do his duty and let other people follow their own ways. I afterwards had reason to know that he was even more than that. He was eminently judicious, and he now felt that the time had arrived when he might speak a word in season to good effect. The captain listened, and after some time I saw him put out his hand and grasp that of Mr Gale; but he said nothing in reply. Meantime the brig was drawing near to us.

“Have a boat ready to board her,” cried the captain, after he had again examined her through his glasses. “It is strange, indeed; I can see no one on her deck.”

The Rainbow was now hove-to, and a boat was lowered. I went in her; so did Peter. Mr Gale had charge of her. We all were, by the captain’s orders, strongly armed, and he directed the mate to approach cautiously, so as not to be taken by surprise. I never met a braver man than the captain, or one who, at the same time, was more cautious and careful of the lives of his people. During my apprenticeship with him, on several occasions, had it not been for this constant caution and care not to be taken by surprise, both he and all his people would have been destroyed.

While the boat pulled towards the stranger, the brig, with her guns run out, and the people at their quarters ready to fire, stood so as to cross her bows, and to punish her should any treachery be intended. We had to be careful in going alongside, lest she should run us down; for as her head now went in one direction, now in another, it was difficult to determine on which side she would come. She was a fine large brig, fully as large as the Rainbow, and it did look strange to see her sailing along over the wide Atlantic without apparently a human being to guide her course. Still, from what I had heard the captain say, I could not help fancying that there was some trick, and fully expected to see a number of men start up the moment we touched her side, and either send our boat to the bottom with a cold shot, or seize us and carry us as prisoners below. It was a satisfaction, however, to feel that, with the shipwrecked crew, we had plenty of men on board to carry the ship home, and to punish those who might injure us.

I must say that I felt rather curious as, giving way, we dashed alongside the stranger, and Peter with his boat-hook catching hold of the fore-chains, we, with our cutlasses in our mouths, scrambled on board. No one appeared. A perfect silence reigned over the deck. Our first business was to shorten sail, and round-to the ship. Mr Gale flew to the helm, and put it down, while we flattened in the topsail-braces, and clewed up top-gallant-sails, and brailed up the courses, throwing the foretop-sail aback. As this work occupied all our attention, we had no time to make any remarks as to the state of affairs on deck. As I was running forward, my foot slipped in a wet mass and I came to the deck. Jumping up again, I seized the rope at which I had been ordered to haul. When the work was done, and the ship hove-to, I looked at my hands. A cold shudder came over me: they were covered with blood!

I gave a cry of horror and disgust. It attracted the attention of my shipmates. We now looked along the deck. In several places were other dark clotted marks scarcely yet dry. Other signs there were which showed that plunder had been the object of the deadly attack, which, it was evident, had been made on the crew of the brig. Articles of dress were strewed about, and cases of provisions, nautical instruments, books and charts, and opened bales of merchandise; but there were no signs of a struggle—nothing to show that the hapless crew had even been enabled to fight for their lives.

“What has been the matter aboard?” shouted Captain Helfrich, as the Rainbow passed close to us.

“Murder, sir! foul murder!—there can be no doubt of it,” answered Mr Gale, who was about to descend the companion-hatch. I with others followed him.

What a scene of havoc, confusion, and wanton destruction the cabin presented, as seen in the dim light which came down the companion-hatch, for the covering of the skylight was on. There had evidently been a fierce strife there. A mirror over the stove was broken to atoms—the chairs were overturned—china-plates and cut-glasses lay scattered about in fragments amid clothing, and books, and boxes; the cabin lamp and a cabin compass, and stores of every sort, of which the lockers had been rifled—chests and trunks lay open, despoiled of their contents, but no human form, either alive or dead, was to be seen.

Mr Gale ordered the hands on deck to lift off the skylight. As the bright sunshine came down into the cabin, the full horror of the scene was exhibited. Among a mass of articles, such as I have enumerated, which lay on the cabin table, were six human heads with ghastly grins, holding pieces of meat in their mouths! They were placed at each side of the table, and knives, and forks, and plates with food, were placed before them! They had evidently thus been arranged in savage mockery by their ruthless murderers, as they were about to leave the scene of their atrocity. We searched about: no bodies were found. On one side of the cabin there was a complete pool of blood, though part of it had been lapped up by the bedclothes, which had been dragged from one of the berths. The beds in the other state-rooms had been undisturbed.

Everything in the cabin showed us that the vessel was English; and this was confirmed by opening the books, which were all in English. So, as far as we could judge, were the countenances of the murdered people—I will not say men; for on examining one of the heads, our horror was increased by discovering that one of them was that of a woman—young and beautiful she had been. Oh, what a scene of horror must her eyes last have beheld; with what anguish must her heart last have beat! Even in death the features of the murdered men wore various expressions. Horror on one was clearly portrayed—desperate determination on that of another—fierce rage showed itself on the face of another. So I fancied; but, at all events, had I known any of the people, I think that I should have recognised them. There were the same Anglo-Saxon features common to all. The complexions of some were fair, and of others sunburnt. There was one with a weather-beaten countenance, and large bushy whiskers, whom we took to be one of the officers of the ship, while most of the others had the smooth complexions of shore-going people, and were probably those of passengers.

What we had already discovered plainly told the story of the catastrophe. The brig had been surprised in the evening by some piratical miscreants, while the captain and passengers, and some of the officers probably, were below at supper. The watch on deck must have instantly been overpowered before those below had time to come to their assistance. Some, probably hearing a scuffle, and coming on deck, were instantly slaughtered, or, it might have been, secured and carried off all prisoners. The people in the cabin could not even have been aware of what was going forward, and the first announcement of the misfortune which had befallen them, was the appearance of the pirates rushing into the cabin. Rising from the table, they had seized whatever weapons came nearest to hand to defend themselves. Desperately they might have fought, but all in vain. One clearly had been dragged from bed, holding fast to the clothes. Most likely the unfortunate lady had been so treated, and deprived of life on the body of her husband.

Mr Gale’s opinion was, that the captain’s head was not among those in the cabin; but that, on first hearing the scuffle, he had sprung on deck, as being nearest the door, to ascertain its cause. This opinion was afterwards confirmed by the discoveries we made. As soon as they had been overpowered, their heads must have been cut off, perhaps to make the rest show where any valuables they might possess were concealed. However performed, at all events the butchery was complete. Never, indeed, have my eyes beheld a scene of greater horror. Death alone, we know, may bring peace and joy; but death under such outrageous aspects as those I have described, affrights the soul.

While some of the men went forward to ascertain the state of matters in the forepeak, Mr Gale kept Peter and me to look after the ship’s papers. We hunted about in a number of places for some time without avail. At last I went into what I concluded to be the master’s cabin, and in a tin case, under his pillow, I found them. I took them to Mr Gale, who glanced over them.

“The Dolphin, the vessel is called,” he observed. “Ah, and here’s a name I think I remember,—Walter Stenning, master. Why, Poplar, is not that the name of the young man we picked up at sea a few voyages back to the West Indies?”

“Yes, sir; the very same,” answered Peter. “I’ve had notice of him since then, and I heard say that he had become master and owner of a fine craft, and gone with his wife and family to live out in one of the colonies; I don’t know which.”

“Halifax, Nova Scotia, the brig hails from, I see. She was bound from Bristol to Demerara,” continued Mr Gale, reading on from the papers. “I suppose, though, we shall have to send her to Halifax, where, as far as I can make out, her owners reside, as well as the merchants who have shipped most of her freight.”

While the mate was still looking over the papers, Captain Helfrich, who had come on board in another boat, entered the cabin. He was more affected than any of us by the horrid sight which met his eyes.

“Who can have done this?” he exclaimed, casting his eyes round in every direction. “Ah, what is that I see in the corner there?” He pointed to what proved to be a Moorish turban; while near it lay a piece of a sabre, which, from its curved form, evidently belonged to the same people.

“This work was done, I doubt not, by the very villains who attempted to surprise us,” he observed, as I handed him the articles to examine. “We may truly be thankful that they did not find us unprepared, as they did the unfortunate people of this vessel, or their lot might have been ours.”

“Indeed we have cause of gratitude to God, who, in His mercy, preserved us,” responded Mr Gale. “I wish that we could find the people who did this work, to stop their committing further mischief.”

“The miscreants cannot be far-off,” exclaimed the captain. “If we could fall in with them, we might punish them in a way they little expect.”

“I suspect, sir, when the Moors let the brig go free, they must have hauled their wind, and kept away to the eastward,” observed Mr Gale. “They are not fond, in general, of keeping so far away from their own shores.”

“You are right, Gale,” said the captain. “However, though I think we might find them, I should not be justified in going out of our course to look for them. We must, therefore, consider how we are to dispose of the brig. As far as I can judge, without thinking more of the matter, I am bound to send her to Halifax at once to her owners, from whom we shall obtain the proper salvage. Now, as I shall be glad to do what I think will be of service to you, I will give you the command of her, with a few hands whom I can spare; while with the seamen whom we have as passengers on board, the Rainbow will still be sufficiently manned to reach home in safety.”

Mr Gale did not refuse the captain’s offer, and I was far from sorry when I found that he had selected Peter Poplar and me among the people who were to accompany him. Besides us, as the shipwrecked seamen were all anxious to reach England, and would not volunteer, we had only three other men; so that, considering the size of the Dolphin, we were somewhat short-handed.

Before committing the heads to the deep, we examined their features, and it was the opinion of all on board, who had known Walter Stenning, that none of them bore any resemblance to him; so that if the young man, who had for so long been on board the Rainbow, was the same person who lately commanded this unfortunate vessel, his fate was still uncertain. Too probably, however, he had been murdered by the miscreants on deck. Scarcely less melancholy would be his lot if he still survived, for he would have been carried away to Morocco, and there sold as a slave, to labour in the fields or gardens.

One or two other bits of arms and ornaments were found about the deck; and the captain, on examining them, gave it as his opinion that the pirate was one of those craft which had long been known under the name of Salee Rovers. At one time the greater number of vessels fitted out by the Moors to plunder on the high seas hailed from that port. Before the captain left the vessel, every part of her was examined, but not a trace of a living being could be found. Still, too clearly to be mistaken did she tell her own dreadful tale. The log-book showed that, three days before, she had been in a dead calm since sunrise, and that a strange sail was in sight. Little did her crew dream of the woe that stranger was to work them!

We were allowed to go on board the Rainbow to get our chests, and to wish our shipmates good-bye; and then I bade farewell to my old captain, and the craft I had learned to love as a seaman only can,—the vessel within whose wide timbers I had spent many a happy day, and which had carried me in safety across many a wide sea.

We found nearly everything we required on board the Dolphin. It took some time, however, to get her to rights, to wash out the stains of blood, and to put the cabin in order, and to remove all remnants of the horrid deed which had been enacted there. It was some time, however, before Mr Gale could prevail on himself to take possession of the cabin. At last all the necessary arrangements on board the Dolphin were made, and Captain Helfrich ordering Mr Gale to proceed on his voyage, bore away to the north-east, while we kept to the westward of north. I felt very strange as I found myself on board a new vessel, and saw the old one, in which I had served for so many years, sailing away from us. I should have felt very forlorn and melancholy if Peter had not been with me. I was also very much attached to Mr Gale, and was very glad that he was now my captain.

The Irish, I have observed, generally possess a considerable amount of imagination, and I conclude that I inherited no small share of that quality from my poor mother. I remember that the first night I passed on board the Dolphin, I fancied in my sleep that I saw again the whole of the scene of horror which had so short a time before been enacted there. Several times I jumped up, thinking that the rovers were coming on board, and that I had to fight for my life. Then I fancied that I heard the cries and the groans of the poor fellows who had slept where I was sleeping, and had met their death close to where I lay; and I looked out and saw them writhing and struggling in the hands of their barbarous murderers.

Peter, instead of laughing at me when I told him of my dreams, answered me that the surest way to banish all such thoughts, was to say my prayers earnestly at night whenever I turned in, and to pray that I might be preserved from all dangers, and especially from the fate which had overtaken these poor men. I was very fortunate in falling in, at this time of my life, with two such men as Mr Gale and Peter Poplar. The latter was uneducated, certainly, but had learned his religion from the Bible, and therefore he possessed the true principles, the essentials of a saving faith; and he was the instrument of gradually opening my mind and heart to them.

Captain Gale, for so I shall now call him, had a very sharp look-out kept lest we should again fall in with the Salee Rover, or any of his consorts, which, it was very probable, might still be hovering about in that part of the ocean. The first day after parting company with the Rainbow passed by without a single sail heaving in sight. The breeze had got round to the southward, so that we had a fair wind; and as it was light, we were able to carry all the canvas we could set. At night, however, as we were somewhat short-handed, the captain ordered us to furl top-gallant-sails, and to take a reef in the topsails, that we might be better prepared should it come on to blow. The second night, however, passed away, and the same fine weather continued.

The next morning, soon after daybreak, Captain Gale came on deck, and ordered us to loose top-gallant-sails. On going aloft to obey the order, as I cast my eyes round the horizon, I saw, right away on our weather-beam, just rising out of the water, the top-gallant-sails of a brig, close-hauled, standing, I judged, across our course. I hailed the deck to say what I had observed; and after the reefs were shaken out of the topsails, the captain told me to keep aloft to watch the movements of the stranger. She stood steadily on till she rose her topsails out of the water, and then, as I judged, on seeing us, kept more away, so as to cut us off. On hearing this, the captain himself went aloft to have a look at the stranger. He remained some time, examining her narrowly through his glass. The breeze had freshened up a good deal, and it was not a time, I should have supposed, to have made more sail; but the moment he came down, he ordered us to set studden-sails and royals.

“We must make the craft put her best leg foremost,” said he to Peter. “I do not altogether like the look of that ship out there. She is certainly not English; and by her movements she seems very much inclined to overhaul us. Just tell us what you think about the matter.”

Peter took the glass, and went aloft. He also was some time there. When he came down, he handed the glass to the captain without speaking.

“Well, Peter, what do you think of her?” asked the latter. Peter took off his hat, and passed his hand over his brow. “Why, to say the truth, Captain Gale, I don’t like her looks at all. If ever one craft was like another, she’s like that strange brig which lay becalmed near us the time when we were attacked before going up the Mediterranean. It’s difficult to tell one vessel from another, but I very much suspect that she’s the very same piratical rascal we before fell in with, and that this brig is no stranger to her either.”

The captain replied, that he was afraid his apprehensions were too well-founded.

The next question was, how we were to escape from the corsair, should the stranger really be her. A couple of hours passed away, and although we were going at a good rate through the water, there could be no doubt that she was coming up with us. It was now blowing a stiffish breeze, and I saw the captain and Peter often casting an anxious glance aloft, to see whether the masts and spars would bear the heavy strain put on them. Happily there was not much sea; and though the studden-sail-booms bent and cracked again, they held on bravely. Our great hope was, that we might be able to keep well ahead of the stranger till night came on; and then that, by hauling our wind, he might pass us in the dark. We had already got as much wind as the brig could stagger under, and thus one of the greatest dangers we had to apprehend was from carrying away any of our spars. Over and over again the captain looked up at the mast-head, and exclaimed, “Hold on, good sticks, hold on, and serve us a good turn!”

A stern chase is a long chase; and though this was not quite a stern chase, by-the-by, it was nearly one, and we hoped it might prove so long as to have no end. Still our pursuer kept after us. As he drew nearer, we had less and less doubt that he was the very Salee Rover we had before so much to do with. At the same time, our hopes of escaping him decreased. Peter had set himself down on the heel of the bowsprit to rest. I brought him his dinner there, for he had not left the deck for a moment since the morning. He did not look up for some time till I begged him to eat. Still he did not answer. At last I asked him what he was thinking about.

“Why, Jack, how we may manage to escape from the pirate,” he answered after some time. “A very curious idea has struck me, and if the captain will listen to me, we’ll put it into execution. It can do no harm, and if our pursuer comes up with us, I think it will make him haul his wind in a pretty considerable hurry.”

I asked Peter to tell me his plan, wondering what it could possibly be.

“I take it, you see, that the brig out there is the very same which attacked this vessel, and her crew, of course, know that there was not a living soul left on board, but that there were six heads in the cabin,” he answered, speaking very slow. “Now, in my wild young days, I was once for some time behind the scenes of a theatre, and if I had been a scholar I might have become a play-actor. When there, I saw what wonders a little paint, and canvas, and pasteboard could work. As there are six of us, I propose to put a false neck over each of our heads, and I’ll manage to paint in a quarter less than no time, six as ugly faces as you ever saw, on as many balls of canvas, which I’ll stuff with oakum. So each of us will have a head to hold in his hand. Unless some accident happens, we certainly can manage to keep ahead of the rover till nightfall. Then we’ll just mix up a number of lumps of gunpowder and sulphur, and place them about the deck before each of us. As soon as the rover ranges up alongside, we’ll fire them all at the same moment, and I shall be very much mistaken if the cut-throats don’t think that there’s a company on board they would rather not have anything to do with.”

I could not help laughing at Peter’s quaint notion—still, however little effect it might have on civilised people, I thought it was very likely to scare away the sort of men who composed the Moorish crew, and I advised him instantly to propose it to the captain. Peter, accordingly, bolting his dinner with a haste which showed that he was thinking more about his idea than it, went aft, and opened up the case. Captain Gale listened more attentively than I expected, and, after a little consideration, said that he thought it was very likely to succeed. The plan once adopted, all hands set energetically to work to make the required preparations.

There was, fortunately, an abundance of materials. I got out the paint-pots, and mixed the colours according to Peter’s directions. He himself, with canvas and palm needles, fitted the necks, cutting holes for us to see through them; the other men were employed in making six prodigious round balls for heads, and covering one part with shakings, to serve as hair. He undertook to stand at the helm, and to have his head at the end of the boat-hook by his side, that he might lift it up at the proper moment. All the frying-pans and shallow pots which could be found were collected, and the captain made with damp gunpowder a number of what schoolboys call “Vesuviuses.” These, however, were very much larger than the contents of a schoolboy’s purse would allow him to make. He tried one of them, and found it sent forth a lurid glare, which even in the day-time showed what effect it would produce at night.

Before sunset all our preparations were completed; and when dressed up, a very curious and horrid crew we most certainly did look. Had there been more of us, the effect might perhaps have been increased. We now waited almost with boyish impatience for the coming up of the rover to put our trick into execution. Captain Gale was, however, too wise to trust to it till all other means of escape had failed. The wind had rather fallen than increased, and this was an advantage to us in two ways: it enabled us to shorten sail with less difficulty than we should otherwise have done; and we found that, with less wind, we went faster in proportion through the water than did our pursuer.

It was with feelings such as I had very seldom before experienced, that I saw the sun sinking towards the ocean, surrounded with a blaze of glory; its bright rays falling on the loftier sails of the rover, while they still reached our courses. Down it went beneath its watery home, and I questioned very much with myself whether I should ever again see it rise. I had no great confidence in Peter’s trick, nor do I suppose that he had much himself, when he came seriously to think about the matter; but still, if overtaken, we had no other means of escaping—we could not fight, and still less could we have any hope from the mercy of our foes. I did not, however, mention my doubts to Peter, and far less would I have done so to any of the other men. Young as I was, I had seen enough of the world to have learned the value of discretion.

As the daylight disappeared, a grey canopy of clouds was spread over the sky, sufficiently thick to obscure the stars. Thus the night was more than usually dark. Still, as the atmosphere was free from mist, seamen’s eyes could distinguish objects at a considerable distance off. With much anxiety we watched the rover, in the hope that the growing darkness would hide her from our view; but still we could see her following closely in our wake, and thus, of course, there was every probability that she could see us. We could not expect that the darkness would increase; consequently there would have been no use in altering our course, as it would have been perceived on board; so all we could do was to stand boldly on as before. At the rate she was overhauling us, as the captain calculated, she would be up with us by midnight. I should have liked to have shortened sail, and brought the matter to an issue, but Captain Gale was not a man to act thus unwisely. He knew that we might fall in with some friendly vessel, or that the pirate might give up the chase, or that some sudden change in the weather might enable us to escape at the last moment. Everything, however, was prepared; and thus standing at our posts, we waited the result.

Nearer and nearer drew the pirate. We were within range of her guns, still she did not fire. On she came. She was close upon our quarter.

“Wait till I give the word,” said the captain, in a low voice. She was ranging up on our beam.

“Ready!” exclaimed the captain. “Now!”

In a moment a terrifically lurid glare was cast over our decks. Up went the helmsman’s gory head at the end of a boarding-pike, though he steered as steadily as before, while we all shook ours in our hands, and at the same moment gave vent to the most unearthly shrieks, and groans, and cries, our headless helmsman shrieking and shouting louder than any of us. At this we all again shook our ghastly heads. Peter had given the necks the appearance of dropping blood, and again we shrieked and groaned louder than ever.

The effect on board the rover was instantaneous. The crew must have fully thought that they had got hold of some demon-craft as a punishment for their crimes. Down went their helm; the tacks and sheets seemed all to be flying away together; and the topsails came down on their caps. Ropes were let go, but no one thought of hauling on others, or belaying them; no one seemed to know what they were about; and many even shrieked and cried out with terror and dismay. Nothing could have been more complete than the success of our trick.

We were all eagerly watching its effect, when, just as the vessels were parting, a figure was seen to spring into the main-rigging of the rover. We all saw him, and all recognised the person as no other than Walter Stenning, the late master of the Dolphin. On we sailed. The dark outline of the rover grew less and less distinct, till it was totally lost in the gloom of night.

As the morning sun arose, lighting up Sambro Head in the distance, the clouds of night dispersed from off the sky, and with a fair breeze we ran in under the forts which guard McNab’s Island, at the entrance of the fine harbour of Halifax. The capital of Nova Scotia stands on the side of a hill facing the east, which rises gradually from the water’s edge. Its streets are wide, well laid out, and handsome, mostly crossing each other at right angles, and extending along the shores of the harbour for a distance of two miles, and running inland about half a mile. Fine wharfs, at which ships of any burden can discharge their cargoes, extend along the water’s edge; above them are the warehouses and merchants’ stores; and then come the public buildings; and, lastly, the houses of the more wealthy inhabitants. The harbour is very fine, and would hold as large a fleet as ever put to sea. The naval dockyard is also a handsome establishment, and it is the chief naval station in British North America. As it is completely open to the influence of the sea air, its anchorage is very seldom blocked up by ice. It is altogether an important place, and would become still more important in war-time.

As soon as we had dropped our anchor, Captain Gale, taking me with him to carry his papers and other articles, went on shore to find out the owners of the Dolphin. Davidson and Stenning were their names, the latter being the brother of the master, who was also part owner. He was dreadfully overcome when Captain Gale announced his errand.

“What do you mean, sir? My brave brother Walter dead! murdered by rascally pirates!” he exclaimed. “Oh, impossible!—it’s too horrid! What will his poor wife do?”

“I have my hopes that he may still be numbered among the living,” replied Captain Gale. And he then recounted all that had occurred connected with the Salee rover.

Both the gentlemen complimented the captain on the way he had behaved, and then begged him to wait to see Mrs Walter Stenning, who was residing there. After some time, during which her brother-in-law was preparing her for the captain’s communication, we were called in to see the lady. She begged that I might come too, that she might question me about having seen her husband in the rigging of the rover. She was not very young, but she was handsome, and very modest-looking; and as she was dressed in mourning, she appeared very interesting, and I for one thought that I should be ready to do anything to please her. She listened attentively to all the captain had to say; and after talking to him some time, cross-questioned me very narrowly as to how I knew that he was the man I had seen on board the rover.

“It was him—it was him, I am certain!” she exclaimed. “My good and noble husband cannot be killed. His life has been spared. I feel it—I know it. I’ll go and find him out. I’ll search for him everywhere. I’ll rescue him even if he is in the very heart of Morocco.”

“I fear, madam, that’s more than you or any other woman can accomplish,” answered Captain Gale. “But if any human being is able to rescue your husband, even though the risk may be very great, I for one shall be more than glad to engage in the work. If he’s above the water and above the earth, we’ll find him.”

There spoke the warm-hearted impetuous sailor. He did not stop to consider difficulties, but at once undertook to do what his heart prompted. It was not quite at the spur of the moment either, because he had, from the moment he thought Stenning dead, been feeling a sentiment of pity for his widow; and now he saw her sweet, amiable face, he was still more anxious to relieve her grief.

Mrs Stenning, as may be supposed, could scarcely find words to thank Captain Gale for his offer; and when he repeated it the following day, the owners replied that they would most thankfully accept it, and would put him in charge of the Dolphin, that he might go out in her to commence his search.

In the meantime, the people we had picked up at sea were landed, and taken care of by the inhabitants of the place. Mrs Stenning insisted on taking charge of poor Mrs Ellis, the widow of the captain of the Eagle; and Mr Carr volunteered to join the Dolphin, to go in search of Walter Stenning, with whom, curiously enough, he was well acquainted. Captain Gale at once offered to take me instead of sending me home, as had been arranged he should do; and, of course, I was delighted to join him. Peter Poplar at once volunteered to accompany him; as indeed did all the crew of the brig, and some of the seamen we saved from the wreck: the greater number were, however, too ill to serve again at sea.

The articles, as it happened, which composed the cargo, being much in demand at the time, sold well; and the owners were the better able, therefore, to fit out the brig in as liberal a way as could be desired. She was, accordingly, strongly armed, and well able to contend with any rover or other vessel we might meet on the African coast. After the lessons we had received, also, we were not likely to be taken by surprise,—the mode in which the pirates of those days usually attempted to capture their prey.

Mrs Stenning used frequently to come on board, to superintend the outfit of the ship, and to hasten the workmen; and thus everybody working with a will, and with an important object in view, she was soon ready for sea. Often and often, on the contrary, have I seen work which might and should have been rapidly performed, most vexatiously delayed through the laziness, or ignorance, or carelessness of those employed on it. One man has not taken a correct measure; another has forgotten to give a simple order; a third has put off a small piece of work to do something else which was not so much required; a fourth has ill-fitted a portion of the machine, or has broken what he calls some trifle which he has not replaced; and so forth. How much better would it be if they, and all whose eyes read my story, would but remember that saying of Holy Writ—“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.”

Yes, in that Book, if men would but search earnestly, they would find with an overflowing abundance all that they can require to guide them aright, both in everything in regard to this life, as well as to make them wise unto salvation. But, then, they must not hope to be guided partly by the rules and maxims of the world, and partly by those of the Bible. They must study the Bible by the light which the Bible affords—not by man’s light or man’s wisdom. They must not suppose that a mere cursory or occasional reading will suffice. They must read it diligently with all their heart, with an earnest prayer for enlightenment, and with an honest wish to comprehend it fully, and a resolution to be guided by its precepts. Let the worldly-minded understand that those who do so succeed best, and are at the same time the happiest men in the world in the long-run. However, Old Jack does not want to preach just now. If his readers will not believe him, deeply does he mourn the inevitable consequences to them.

The brig, as I said, was soon ready for sea. It might have appeared that the shortest way to proceed about our expedition would have been to sail at once for Morocco; but as the productions of Nova Scotia are chiefly food and timber, and such articles were in no request in that part of Africa, it was necessary to go first to England with a cargo, and then to take in what was required, such as cotton and woollen manufactures, hardware, arms, and ammunition. Accordingly, we took on board some quintals of dry fish, and barrels of flour, and beef, and pork, and pickled fish, and staves, and shingles, and lath-wood, and hoops, and such like productions of the forest. At that time, however, the country did not produce any large quantity of those articles for exportation.

The owners directed us first to proceed to Bristol, where we were to discharge our cargo, and to take on board another suited to the Morocco markets. Our departure excited great interest in Halifax, where Walter Stenning and his family were well-known; and his poor wife was one of the last people to leave the brig before she sailed.

Once more, then, we were at sea. Several occurrences took place during the voyage which would be worth narrating, had not I other subjects of more interest to describe. People talk a great deal of the monotony of this or that existence, and especially of a long sea voyage. For my part, I have learned to believe that no day is altogether barren of incident, if people would but learn to look inwardly as well as outwardly. Something of interest is always taking place in nature, but men must keep their senses awake to observe it; so some process is always going forward in a man’s moral being, but his conscience must be alive to take note of it.

We reached Bristol in six weeks—not a bad passage in those days, when navigation had not made the strides it since has. We brought the first account of all the events I have described, and as the passengers and most of the crew of the Dolphin had belonged to Bristol, several families of the place were plunged in deep grief, and a universal desire prevailed to recover any of those who might have been carried into captivity, and to ascertain further particulars of the tragedy. No time, therefore, was lost in shipping a fresh cargo, and in furnishing us with such supplies as might be required.

Our directions were to proceed first to the port of Alarache, where resided a merchant who corresponded occasionally with our Bristol consignees. From him we were to obtain an interpreter, and to proceed to such other ports as might be judged advantageous according to the information he might furnish. We had a fair run to Cape Spartel, the north-western point of Africa. It then fell calm for a day or so. After this we had very light and baffling winds, and we sighted more than one suspicious-looking craft; but they did not, apparently, like our appearance, and made sail away from us. At length we came off Alarache. A bar runs across the mouth of the harbour, which even at spring-tides prevents large ships from entering, though there were sufficient water on it to allow us to get over. No pilot came out, so Captain Gale resolved to make a bold stroke, and to carry the brig in by himself.

It was nearly high-water, and the breeze was favourable as we stood towards the land. The sky and sea were blue and bright, with a line of foam where the water ran over the shallower part of the bar. Dark rocks and yellow sands were before us, with white-washed, flat-roofed houses, and here and there a minaret or cupola of a mosque, and tall, slender, wide-spreading topped date-trees scattered over the landscape; while lower down, protecting the town, was a frowning castle or fort, with a few vessels at anchor before it. A boat-load of officials, with very brown faces, white dresses, and red caps, came off to inquire our business, and get bucksheesh, as the Turks call such gratuities as they can collect from travellers and voyagers. The captain could only reply by showing a document in Moorish with which he had been furnished, and repeating the name of Mynheer Von Donk, the Dutch merchant at the place, to whom we were consigned. This, in the course of a couple of hours, produced Mynheer Von Donk himself, to ascertain what was required of him. I cannot pretend to say that all Dutch merchants are like him, for if so, they must be a very funny set of people. He was very short and very fat, with queer little sparkling eyes, and a biggish snub-nose, and thick lips, and hair so long and stiff that his three-cornered hat could scarcely keep it from starting out all round his bullet-shaped head. He had on very very wide brown breeches; and very very large silver buckles to his shoes; and a waistcoat of yellow silk, embroidered all over with strange designs, and so ample that it almost superseded the necessity of breeches; and his brown coat looked as if made with a due preparation for the still further enlargement of its respectable owner. Mynheer informed the captain that he could speak every language under the sun like a native; but, as Peter remarked, then it must have been like a native who had lived away from home all his life, and forgotten his mother-tongue. We, however, made out that it was very necessary to be cautious in our dealings with the Moors, as they were the greatest thieves and rogues in the world, and that they would only desire an opportunity of seizing the brig, and making slaves of us all; but that while we remained in Alarache, we should be safe under his protection.

When Captain Gale explained to him the real object of the voyage, he brightened up considerably, as he saw that he might have an opportunity of making even more out of the ship than he at first expected. I do not say that Mynheer Von Donk was destitute of human sympathies; but he had gone out to that far from agreeable place to make money, and money he was resolved to make by every means in his power. He was ready enough even to promise to assist in finding poor Captain Stenning, provided he could be paid for it—he preferred labouring in a laudable object with pay, to labouring in an object which was not laudable, if no more money was to be made in one way than in another; but he had no desire to labour in anything without pay.

We saw very little of the shore in this place, for he asked that we should not be allowed to land, except in company with one of our officers and his interpreter. We had, however, a pretty brisk traffic for the goods we had brought, we taking chiefly hard dollars in return; however, the captain did not refuse some articles, such as bees-wax, hides, copper; dates, and almonds, and other fruits not likely to spoil by keeping. It was, at the same time, important that we should not fill up entirely with merchandise, that we might have an excuse for visiting other ports. As far as we could judge, the dangers we had heard of had been very much exaggerated, and arose chiefly from the careless and often violent conduct of those who visited the country. Captain Gale, aided by Mr Carr, kept the strictest discipline on board; and we must have gained the character of being very quiet well-disposed traders, without a thought beyond disposing of our merchandise. Our guns merely showed that we were able to defend what had been placed under our care.

Meantime Mynheer Von Donk was making every inquiry in his power for Captain Stenning, or any of the survivors from the massacre on board the Dolphin. He ascertained that no such vessel as we described had come into Alarache, but that one exactly answering her description belonged to the port of Salee, some leagues to the southward, and that she had been on a long cruise, and had returned about the time the captain calculated she might, with some booty and some captives on board. What had become of them he could not learn, but concluded that, as they had not been sent to the northward, they were still in the neighbourhood.

One day, the interpreter having come on board, we got under way, and without let or hindrance stood over the bar. We lay up well along-shore, which is in some places very mountainous and rocky, and the following day we were off Salee. This is also a bar harbour, but, waiting for high-tide, we ran over it, and came to an anchor opposite the town, and near an old fort, the guns of which did not look very formidable. As we ran up the harbour we looked anxiously around to ascertain if our friend the rover was there; but no vessel exactly like her could we see, though there were several suspicious-looking craft, which, no doubt, were engaged in the same calling. Salee itself is composed chiefly of mean houses, with very narrow dirty steep streets; but some of the dwellings in the higher part of the town are of greater pretensions as to size and architectural beauty.

Our consignee in this place was an Armenian merchant, who presented a great contrast in outward appearance to Mynheer Von Donk. Keon y Kyat was tall, and thin, and sallow and grave, dressed in long dark robes, and a high-pointed cap of Astrakan fur,—he looked more like a learned monk than a merchant; but in one point he was exactly like his respected correspondent,—he came to the country to make money, and money he was resolved to make, at all events! This circumstance, however, was an advantage to our enterprise, as he was willing for money to afford us that assistance which he would, probably, otherwise have refused.

Our interpreter, Sidy Yeusiff, was a character in his way, though certainly not one to be imitated. His mother was a Christian slave, an Irish Roman Catholic, married to a Mohammedan Moor. She had brought him up in her own faith, in which he continued till her death, when, to obtain his liberty, he professed that of his stepfather. He had all the vices consequent on slavery. He was cringing, cowardly, false, and utterly destitute of all principle; but, at the same time, so plausible, that it was difficult not to believe that he was speaking the truth. He was a young, pleasant-looking man; and as he used to come forward and talk freely with the seamen, he became a favourite on board. Poor fellow! had he been brought up under more favourable circumstances, how different might have been his character! His professed object was, of course, to interpret for the captain in all matters connected with the sale of the cargo; but he used to take every opportunity of going on shore to try and gain information about Captain Stenning or any of his companions.

I had few opportunities of making remarks about the people of this place, but Sidy corrected some of the notions I had first formed. The boys all go bare-headed; the men wear red caps. They have their hair shaved off their heads, with the exception of a tuft on the top, by which they expect Mohammed will draw them up to paradise. I have seen it remarked that Mohammed, who had very erroneous notions on scientific subjects, fixed the articles for the religious belief of his followers according to them, thereby entirely disproving their divine origin; whereas the writers of the Bible, guided by inspiration, made numerous statements which, with the knowledge then possessed by mankind, would have been impossible for them to understand clearly unless explained to them by the Holy Spirit, but which subsequent discoveries in science have shown to be beautifully and exactly correct.

Mohammed thought that the world was flat, and so placed his paradise in an atmosphere above it.

To return to the dress of the Moors. They wear long beards and large whiskers, but shave their upper lip and directly under the chin. A gentleman of the upper class wears a long shirt without a collar, and over it a sort of spencer or waistcoat, joined before and behind. Again, over this he puts a very large coat, ornamented with numberless buttons, and with sleeves reaching only to his elbows. His coat, which he folds round him, is secured by a thick coloured sash or girdle, into which he sticks a very long knife or dagger, and where he carries his money, supposing he has any. He wears only a pair of linen drawers reaching to the ankle. His shoes are of goat-skin, very well-dressed, the sole being but of one thickness. He wears over his dress a fine white blanket, with which he can completely shroud himself, leaving only his right arm exposed. It is called a haik. Some of these haiks are very fine and transparent, while others are thicker and more fit for general use. In cold weather he puts on a bournous or capote, with a hood such as the Greek fishermen and sailors wear. A labouring man does not wear a shirt, and his drawers come only as far as his knee, leaving the rest of his leg exposed.

The women’s clothes are cut something like those of the men. Round the head they wear a coloured sash, which hangs down to the waist; their hair is plaited; and they have the usual gold and silver ornaments in their ears and on their fingers, and red shoes. The poorer classes wear necklaces, and silver or copper rings on their fingers and thumbs. Their shirts are beautifully ornamented in front, to look like lace. When they leave the house they put on drawers of great length, which they turn up into numerous folds over their legs, giving them a very awkward appearance. Besides the haik, which is like that of a man’s, a lady wears a linen cloth over her face, to conceal it from the profane vulgar when abroad. Such were the people we saw moving about on shore.

Day after day passed by, and no account could we gain of poor Captain Stenning. It was very clear, also, that if we did, we should not be able to obtain his liberation by force. At last one day the captain sent for me.

“Williams,” said he, “I have had news of one of the Dolphin’s people, if not of Captain Stenning himself. I must myself go and see him, and I want a companion in whom I have perfect confidence. As you are a steady, sensible man, with good nerve, I shall be glad to take you with me, if you are willing to accompany me. I should probably have taken Poplar, but his figure is so conspicuous that he would have been remarked.”

I was much pleased with the way in which he spoke of me, and I told him that I was ready to follow wherever he chose to lead the way.

“That is the spirit I expected to find in you,” he replied.

“It is, however, right that you should understand that there is considerable danger in the expedition; for if our errand was to be discovered, we should certainly be sacrificed to the fury of the Moors.”

“I’ve no fear about that, sir,” said I. “A man cannot expect to be always able to do what is right without running some risk and taking some trouble.”

Sidy that evening brought us off some Moorish clothes, in which the captain and I rigged ourselves out. We certainly did look two funny figures, I thought, as we turned ourselves round and round in them. Sidy had not forgotten a couple of long knives, to which the captain added a brace of pistols a piece. I was very glad it was dusk when we left the ship, for I should not have liked my shipmates to have seen me with my bare legs and slippers, and a dirty blanket over my head just like an old Irishwoman.

A shore-boat was alongside—a sort of canoe turned up at both ends, and flat-bottomed. An old Moor sat in her. Sidy had bribed him to put us on shore, and to ask no questions. He told him that we were Moors, who had had business on board the brig, and that we desired to land without notice. He accordingly pulled to an unfrequented part of the harbour, and we stepped on shore, as we believed, unnoticed. The captain and Sidy led the way, I following in the character of a servant. Of course, if spoken to, I was to be dumb. We passed along a narrow sandy road, with low stone walls on either side skirting the town, till we arrived at the entrance of a house of somewhat larger dimensions than those of the neighbouring edifices. This, I found, was the residence of a German renegade and a merchant, who had, by Sidy’s means, been bribed to assist us.

We were ushered into his presence as Moorish guests come to visit him. He was seated cross-legged on a cushion at one end of a room, with a large pipe by his side. The apartment was not very finely furnished, seeing that it had little else in it besides a few other cushions like the one he sat on. Certainly he looked exactly like an old Moor, and I could not persuade myself that he was not one. He invited us to sit down; which the captain and Sidy did near him, while I tucked my legs under me at a distance. After he had bowed and talked a little through the interpreter, he clapped his hands, and some slaves brought each of us a pipe—not an unpleasant thing just then to my taste. Again he clapped his hands, and the slaves brought in some low, odd, little tables, one of which was placed before each of us. There was a bowl of porridge, and some plates with little lumps of fried meat, and rice, and dates, but not a drop of grog or liquor of any sort. Afterwards, however, coffee was brought to us in cups scarcely bigger than thimbles; but it did little more than just warm up my tongue. As soon as the slaves had withdrawn, I was not a little surprised to hear the seeming Moor address the captain in tolerable English.

“So you want to find one of your captured countrymen?” said he. “Well, to-morrow morning I start on a journey to visit a friend who has one as a slave. His description answers that of him whom you seek. I will obtain for you a short conversation with him. You must contrive the means of rescuing him. I can do no more.”

After some further talk on the subject our host got up, and, having carefully examined all the outlets to the room to ascertain that no one was looking in, produced a stout black bottle from a chest, and some glasses. I found that the bottle contained most veritable Schiedam.

“Now, as I don’t think this good stuff was known to Master Mohammed when he played his pranks on earth, he cannot object to any of his faithful followers tasting a drop of it now and then.”

Thereon he poured out a glass for each of us, and winked at Sidy, as much as to say, “We understand each other—we are both of us rogues.” The captain took but little; so did I: but Muly Hassan the merchant, and the interpreter, did not stop their potations till they had finished the bottle, and both were very drunk. The merchant had sense enough left to hide his bottle, and then his slaves came and made him up a couch in one corner of the room. They also prepared beds for us in the other corners.

The next morning we were up before break of day, and mounted on some small horses, almost hid by their gaily-coloured saddle-cloths and trappings. And such saddles! Rising up in peaks ahead and astern, a drunken tailor could not have tumbled off one of them had he tried. I do not remember much about the appearance of the country. A large portion was lying waste; but there were fields of various sorts of corn, and even vineyards, though the grapes produced from them were not, I suppose, used for the manufacture of wine: indeed, I know that they are eaten both fresh and dried. Date-trees were, however, in great abundance, the fruit being one of the principal articles of food among the people. The roads were very bad; and altogether there was an air of misery and neglect which will always be seen where the ruler is a tyrant and the people are slaves. We rested in some sheds put up for the accommodation of passengers during the heat of the day, and in the afternoon proceeded on to our destination.

“Now, my friends, look out for your countryman,” said the renegade. “You will probably see him tending cattle or labouring in the fields among other slaves. He is probably in his own dress, and you will easily recognise him.”

Curiously enough, we had not ridden on for ten minutes further, when, not far from the road, we saw a man seated on a bank a short distance from the road, and looking very sorrowful and dispirited. His dress was that of a seaman. I looked round, and seeing no one near except our own party, I slipped off my horse, and ran up to him. Of course, he thought I was a Moor, and he looked as if he would have fainted with surprise when he heard me hail him in English.

“Who are you? What do you come here for?” he exclaimed, panting for breath.

“I belong to the Dolphin brig, and I came here to try and find Captain Stenning and any of his companions.”

“Heaven be praised, then?” he exclaimed, bursting into tears. “He and I are the only survivors of that demon-possessed craft which he commanded. But how came your vessel to be called by the name of one which proved so unfortunate?”

“I cannot tell you all about that just now,” I answered, seeing that much time would be lost if I entered into particulars. I therefore merely explained the steps we had taken to discover them, and asked him what had become of Captain Stenning.

“The captain! He has been in this very place till within the last three or four weeks, when the Moors carried him away to serve on board one of their ships—the very ship which captured us. They found out that he was the captain and understood navigation, so they took him to navigate one of their piratical craft. I was sick and unfit for work, or they would have taken me likewise; but they saw that I was only a man before the mast, and guessed that I did not understand navigation. What has since become of the captain I don’t know. There is no one here I can talk to. They set me to work by signs, which, if I do not understand, they sharpen my wits with a lash; and they take care that I shall not run away, by securing me at night with a chain round my leg. There are several other slaves employed by the same master, but not one of them understands a word of English.”

The young man’s name was Jacob Lyal, he told me; and he said that he was just out of his apprenticeship when he joined the Dolphin.

“I have a father and mother, and brothers and sisters, at home, in Somersetshire, and it would make their hearts sorrowful if they heard that I was left a slave in this barbarous country; so you’ll do all you can to help me,” he exclaimed, as I was about to leave him, for I was afraid of remaining longer lest we should be observed.

Just as I was going, however, I told him to try and arrange some plan by which we might have a talk with him, and let him know how things stood before we left the place, should we be unable to take him with us. He also described very accurately the sort of place in which he was locked up at night; and I promised, if I could, to go and have some more conversation with him. As we did not lose time in talking of anything except the matter in hand, I was speedily able to rejoin the captain and his companions. The captain approved of the arrangements I had made, though he was very sorry that there was no immediate prospect of meeting with Captain Stenning.

We were received with all the usual marks of respect by the old Moor who owned the property. He had been a pirate in his youth, and cut-throats and robbed without compunction; but he was now a dignified old gentleman, who looked as if he had been engaged in rural affairs all his life. I came in for almost as much of the attention and good fare as the captain; for in that country a beggar may eat off the same table, or rather the same floor, and sit under the same roof as a prince. The excuse for the visit was to sell to the old Moor some of the goods aboard the Dolphin, specimens of which the captain had brought with him.

As soon after our arrival as we had shaken the dust out of our clothes, and washed our faces and our hands and feet, we were ushered by slaves into a hall, at one end of which sat the old Moor, and the captain and the renegade and the interpreter were placed on each side of him, and I sat a little further off, tucking up my legs as I had done before; and then some black slaves in white dresses brought in a little table for each of us, with all sorts of curious things to eat, which I need not describe, for in that country one feast is very much like another. The renegade had also brought a case; but that it contained something besides merchandise he proved by producing, one after the other, several of his favourite bottles of Schiedam, which apparently were no less acceptable to the old Moor than to him. I am not, however, fond of describing such scenes, or of picturing such gross hypocrites as the renegade and the old Moor.

I gained an advantage, however, from their drunken habits; for as soon as it was dark I stole out of the house, and tried to find my way to the shed where Lyal told me he was chained at night. I had taken good note of the bearings of the place as we rode along. I knew that if I was found prying about, I should run a great chance of being killed; but still I was resolved to run every risk to try and rescue the poor fellow from captivity. Of course, as the captain afterwards told me, we might have gone home to England, and laid the state of the case before the Government; and after a year or so spent in diplomatising, the poor fellow, if he was still alive, might have been released, or the Emperor of Morocco might have declared that he could not find him, or that he was dead; and thus he would have remained on, like many others, in captivity.

There was a little light from the moon, which enabled me to mark the outlines of the house I was leaving, as well as to find my way. Two servants were stationed in the entrance passage, but they had wrapped themselves up in their haiks and gone soundly to sleep, so I stepped over their bodies without waking them. Every person about the house, indeed, seemed to have gone to sleep, but the dogs were more faithful than the human beings, and some of them barked furiously as I walked along. They were either chained or locked up, and finding my footsteps going from them, they were soon silent. At length I reached the shed I was in search of. It was near a cottage, with several other similar sheds in the neighbourhood. As I came to the entrance, a voice said—

“Come in; but speak low.”

At first I could see no one, but on going further in, I discovered the object of my search sitting in a corner on a heap of straw. He was chained there, and could not move.

“It gives me new life to see a countryman here, and one who wants to help me,” said the poor fellow. “I thought all the world had deserted me, and that I should be left to die in this strange land, among worse than heathens, who treat me as a dog; or that I should be tempted to give up my faith and turn Mohammedan, as others have done.”

I cannot repeat all our conversation. At last an idea struck me.

“I’ll tell you what,” said I; “just do you pretend to be mad, and play all sorts of strange pranks, and do all the mischief you can; and then the captain will propose to buy you, and perhaps the old Moor will sell you a bargain, and be glad to be rid of you.”

“A very good idea,” he answered. “But here am I chained up like a dog, and how am I to get free?”

“No fear,” said I, producing a knife which Peter had given me, containing all sorts of implements, and among them a file. “You shall soon be at liberty, at all events.”

Accordingly I set to work, and in less than an hour I had filed the chain from off his legs. While we were filing away, we arranged what he was to do. He was to make a huge cap, with a high peak of straw, and he was to cut his jacket into shreds, and a red handkerchief I had into strips, and to fasten them about him in long streamers, and he was to take a thick pole in his hand, covered much in the same way, and then he was to rush into the house, shrieking and crying out as if a pack of hounds were after him.

“They will not wonder at seeing me mad, for I have done already many strange things, and very little work, since I came here,” he remarked. “But what it to become of the chain?”

“You had better carry that with you, and clank it in their faces,” said I. “Make as if you had bitten it through. That will astonish them, and they will, at all events, be afraid to come near your teeth.”

To make a long story short, we worked away with a will, and in half an hour or so he was rigged out in a sufficiently strange fashion. I have no doubt, had Peter been with us, he would have improved on our arrangement. I then, advising Lyal to follow me in a short time, stole back, and took my place unobserved in the old Moor’s dining-hall. The captain guessed what I had been doing, but the rest of the party had been too much engaged in their potations to miss me. After a little time I stole over to the captain and told him the arrangements I had made, that he might be ready to act accordingly.

In a short time the silence which had hitherto prevailed was broken by a terrible uproar of dogs barking, and men hallooing and crying out at the top of their voices; while, above all, arose as unearthly shrieks as I had ever heard. Presently in rushed a crowd of black and brown servants, followed by a figure which I recognised as that of Lyal, though he had much improved his appearance by fastening a haik over his shoulders and another round his waist, while he waved above his head a torch, at the risk of setting his high straw-cap on fire. The people all separated before him, as he dashed on, right up to the old Moor, who, with a drunken gaze of terror and astonishment, stared at him without speaking.

“Ho! ho!” shouted the sailor, seizing him by the nose; “old fellow, I have you now!”

Thereon he kicked over the jar of Schiedam, the contents of which he set on fire with his torch; and keeping fast hold of the old Moor’s nose, who in his fright knew not how to resist, dragged him round and round the room, shouting and shrieking all the time like a very demoniac.

The place would have been meantime set on fire had not the captain and I quenched the flames, while the renegade and the interpreter, in their drunken humours, could only lean back on their cushions, and laugh as if they would split their sides at the extraordinary predicament of our host.

“I say, countrymen, if you had but your horses ready, we might gallop away before all these people knew where they are,” shouted Lyal. “Who’ll just take a spell at the old fellow’s nose, for I am tired of holding on?”

On this Captain Gale thought that it was time to interfere, and he and I going up to the old Moor, pretended to use great exertion in dragging away the sailor from him. The captain then led him back to his seat, while I held Lyal.

“Here, Sidy,” said the captain to the interpreter; “tell the old man that if he will give me fifty dollars, I will take that madman off his hands.”

When the old Moor had somewhat recovered his composure, Sidy explained the offer. “He says that he can kill him, and so get him out of his way!” was the answer. “He dare not do that,” put in the renegade; “all the people here will own him as inspired. Abate your price, and stick to it.”

Finally, the captain consented to carry away the madman on having twenty dollars added to the price he was to receive for his goods.

“Take him! take him!” exclaimed the old Moor. “The man who can eat through iron, drive all my slaves before him, set fire to my house, and pull me by the nose, is better away from me than near! Take care, though, that he does not come back again!”

The captain promised that he would take very good care of that; and the next day, with joyful hearts at our unexpected success, we set forward on our return-journey to Salee. As the renegade and Sidy were both to be rewarded according to our success, they were well content; and by their aid, the same night we got on board the brig with our recovered countryman without being observed. We had now to turn the whole of our attention to the recovery of Captain Stenning; and every excuse which Captain Gale could think of was made for our stay in the harbour. Still, we had very little of our cargo left, and every day saw it decrease. The spring-tides were also coming on, when there was the greatest depth of water on the bar, and we could the most easily make our escape without a pilot.

There is a time of life when a person feels that he has left for ever his boyish days and stepped into manhood. I felt that I had passed that boundary when I found myself rated as an able seaman on board the Syren sloop of war. I was now under a far stricter system of discipline than I had been accustomed to. At first I felt it somewhat galling; but I soon saw that without the greatest regularity it would be impossible to keep order among the crew of a ship even of the size of the Syren.

My early days I had spent on board a merchantman, and had met with many adventures somewhat strange and exciting. I did not expect to meet with fewer in my new career, though they would probably be of a different character. The result of my last, in which I had aided in rescuing two of my countrymen from captivity, had proved most satisfactory. Jacob Lyal, one of them, was now with me, and I knew he would speak well of me among my new shipmates. The other, Captain Stenning, late master of the Dolphin, was on board that vessel, and, I hoped, would soon be enabled to rejoin his wife and family in Halifax. Captain Gale, her present master, would also, I knew, speak favourably of me to my first commander in the Rainbow, Captain Helfrich, whenever he should fall in with him. I pity the man who does not desire to be thought well of by those who know him, and who does not feel that he deserves their good wishes. I certainly had not made many friends, but those I had found were true and fast ones; and a great source of satisfaction to me was the having with me Peter Poplar, my first and best friend—that true-hearted seaman who had saved me from starvation—who had tended me as a father in my boyhood and youth—who had given me a profession which would enable me to support myself while health and strength remained—and who had ever endeavoured to instil into me those true principles which would enable me to steer clear of the rocks and quicksands to be found in my course through life.

The wind had fallen and become fair; the helm of the corvette was put down, the sails were trimmed, and, under a crowd of canvas such as few merchantmen can attempt to set, we quickly ran the coast of Africa out of sight—the last we saw of its sandy shores being over our starboard quarter. The commander of the Syren, Captain Hudson, was, I found, very much liked by the crew, as, although he was a strict officer, he was a just one, and known to be a thorough seaman. He was a gentleman also in all respects, a brave man, and kind-hearted; and these are the qualities which sailors with good reason respect. Without possessing them, no man is fit to be placed in command over his fellow-men. My old ship, the Dolphin, continued in our company for several days, during which we made the best of our way to the northward, the wind, though scant, enabling us, close-hauled, to keep a course in that direction. When somewhere about the latitude of Lisbon, a ship hove in eight, standing towards us under all sail. As her courses rose above the water, she was pronounced to be a frigate; and as her hull appeared, such was found to be the case. Then commenced such a hauling up and down of flags as I had never before seen. What it all meant I could not tell, but it seemed to produce a great commotion among the officers; and soon the news ran along the deck that war was declared—war with France. It was the beginning of a long and bloody struggle.

Meantime, we hove-to, as the frigate had done, and Captain Hudson went on board her. When he returned, we found that we were ordered into the British Channel. The frigate, a new ship, just fitted out, with her officers in glittering uniforms, and her white wide-spread of canvas, and her fresh paint, and her brightly burnished sides looked, I thought, the very picture of a gay and gallant craft, as, passing close to us, she glided by through the sparkling sea. I could not help comparing her with the weather-beaten, wall-sided, ill-formed, slow-sailing merchantmen I had been accustomed to see, and I began to feel a pride in belonging to a man-of-war which I had not hitherto experienced.

Before proceeding on our course, Captain Hudson signalled the Dolphin, which had been hove-to, and informed Captain Gale that war had broken out, advising him to make the best of his way to Halifax. It was not till some years afterwards that I heard she reached that place in safety, and that Captain Stenning had had the happiness of being re-united to his wife and family.

No sooner was the news of war received on board the Syren, than everybody seemed to wake up into activity. No one had time for a moment to be idle fore or aft. The armourer’s crew were employed in polishing up muskets, and pistols, and sharpening cutlasses. For hours together we were practised at the small-arms and great-guns, which had never before been thought of. The gunners were busy making cartridges; the carpenters, plugs for shot-holes; indeed, we all felt that people should always feel that there was work to do. We had good reason to rejoice before the cruise was up that we had not been idle.

We reached Plymouth without meeting with an enemy or taking a prize. What a state of bustle and excitement the place was in! Carriages-and-four dashing through the streets at all hours of the day; troops marching here and there, with drums and fifes playing—some coming in, others embarking for foreign lands; artisans of all sorts hurrying in, certain to get work at high wages; men-of-war, and merchantmen, and store-ships, and troop-ships sailing in and out every day; boats laden with men and chests pulling across the harbour; seamen crowding every quay; pressgangs at work catching men to fight England’s battles; and then such hurrying to and fro, and shrieking of women, and shouting of men, and crying of children, and revelling, and laughter, and scenes of extravagance, and debauchery, and vice I had never before beheld, and did not think could exist in a civilised part of the globe.

Having refitted with as little delay as possible, and again put to sea, we found ourselves off the north coast of Spain, far into the Bay of Biscay. For some time we were employed in looking along the coast of France, and picking up all the small coasters we could lay eyes on. We did a great deal of damage to a number of poor people, and taught them that war was a very disagreeable thing, so that they must heartily have wished it over, or rather, that it never had begun; but I doubt if we did ourselves any good in the way of collecting prize-money; at all events, I know that I never got any. At length, one morning, when we could just make out the French coast like a thin wavy blue line on the horizon, beyond which a rich yellow glow was bursting forth, the forerunner of the glorious sun, a sail was seen, hull down, to the northward, and apparently standing in on a bowline for the land. The ship, as was usual when cruising, had been quietly jogging on under her topsails during the night. “All hands, make sail in chase!” was the cheerful sound which made us spring on deck to our stations; and in a few minutes the corvette, with royals and studding-sails alow and aloft, was kept away after the stranger. The latter, which was pronounced to be a large topsail schooner, was soon seen to bear up, and to set all the canvas she could carry, in an endeavour to escape. The chase was a large and fast vessel of her class, for it was not till some time after breakfast that we could see half-way down her mainsail from the deck. Still, we were gaining on her. She, meantime, was edging away in for the land, so that there was little doubt that she was an enemy’s vessel—probably, from the way she made sail, a privateer with a number of hands on board, if not a man-of-war. Hour after hour we continued the chase, till the French coast rose clear and distinct on our starboard-bow.

Jacob Lyal and I were at this time stationed in the foretop, of which Peter Poplar was captain, though he was shortly afterwards made a quarter-master. We thus saw every movement of the chase. She, by degrees, edged away again more to the northward, as if wishing to avoid the coast thereabout. We had begun the chase soon after daylight, and the evening was now drawing on, when, close in with the land, we made out a large ship standing along-shore, the rays of the sinking sun shining brilliantly on her snowy canvas. The schooner hauled up towards her, and then kept away again, as if she did not like her appearance.

“What do you make her out to be?” said I to Peter, pointing to the ship.

“Why, Jack, from the squareness of her yards and the whiteness of her canvas, I should say she is a man-of-war—probably a frigate, and a thundering big frigate, too, if I am not much mistaken.”

“I suppose, from the French schooner keeping away from her, she is an English frigate,” said I.

“Not so sure of that either, Jack,” he answered. “We don’t know that the schooner is French, in the first place; and even if she is, she may be mistaken as to the character of the frigate, or she may have altered her course just to deceive us, so as to let the frigate come up with us without our taking alarm about her. Never fancy that you have made a right guess and neglect to take precautions, in case you should be wrong.”

“Why, if she is an enemy’s frigate, she’ll sink us,” said Lyal. “We shall have to up stick and run for it!”

“Never do you fear that, lad,” answered Peter, somewhat sternly, I thought. “Run?—no! If that is a French frigate it will just give us an opportunity of showing what British pluck can do. Our lads know how to handle their guns and small-arms—thanks to the practice some of the grumblers complained of—and if we don’t give a good account of that ship out there, my name is not Peter Poplar.”

The spirit with which Peter spoke soon animated both Lyal and me, and when we were relieved from our watch, and repeated his words, they were responded to by all the crew, and their great wish was that the frigate in sight should prove an enemy, that they might show how they would treat her.

What the officers thought about the matter we could not tell, but as it grew dark the chase of the schooner was abandoned, studding-sails were taken in, and the ship was hauled on a wind and stood off-shore. As may be supposed, no one turned in that night; the hammocks remained in the nettings, and the ship was got ready for action.

From the way the frigate was steering at nightfall, there could be little doubt that she was following in our track. Anxiously we looked out for her lights astern. Hour after hour passed away, and no sign of her appeared, and we began to fear that she had missed us altogether.

At last a small glimmer was soon twinkling away in the darkness, and by degrees it grew larger and larger; and then out of the dense obscurity—for no moon nor stars were visible—there glided a dark towering mass, like some phantom giant talking over the deep. The drum beat to quarters, and the crew sprung eagerly to their guns. Every man was stripped to the waist, round which he had fastened a handkerchief, with another round his head, and had his cutlass ready to board or to repel boarders.

In spite of the wish for battle we had all expressed, I could not help feeling a sensation of awe, if not of dread, creep over me, as we stood—thus in silence and darkness at our guns, expecting the attack of an enemy of vastly superior force. The muscular forms of our sturdy crew could just be distinguished grouped round their guns, the pale light of the ship’s lanterns falling here and there upon them in fitful flashes, as the officers went their rounds to see that every one was at his station, or as the boys handed up shot and powder from below. We were prepared, I say, but still, I believe, the general impression aft was, that the stranger would prove a friend.

As she drew nearer, the order was given to make the private night-signal. Up went the lanterns to the mast-head. It was a moment of breathless suspense. No answering signal of friendship was made in return. In another instant, however, that unmistakable one of hatred and defiance—a shot—came whistling over our heads. It was replied to by one of our stern-chasers; and we then went about, that we might keep the weather-gauge—a most important point under present circumstances.

The enemy, to avoid being raked, had to do the same. “Give it them now, my lads!” shouted the captain. “Let every shot tell, and show the big one what a little craft can do when her crew have the will to make her speak!” Loud cheers were the reply to the address, and instantly every gun sent forth its flame of fire; and I believe that not a shot failed to take some effect on the hull or rigging of our opponent. Now hotly broadside to broadside, at the distance of half-gun-shot from each other, we stood in towards the land. As fast as they could be run in loaded, our guns discharged their deadly showers. All the time we were edging closer towards each other, and as we got within hail we could see that considerable damage had already been suffered by the frigate. This gave fresh encouragement to us, and we blazed away with more hearty good-will than before. The enemy’s shot had, however, been telling not a little on us. Several of our men had lost the number of their mess, and more had been wounded; but no damage of consequence had been received aloft, and any the hull had received had been quickly repaired by our carpenter and his active crew.

Amid the roar of the guns a loud shout burst from our people. I looked up. The frigate’s mizzen-topmast had been shot away, and came tumbling down on deck. Our fore-topgallant-topmast, however, soon followed, cut through by a round-shot; but that was of little consequence, as our topsail-yard was uninjured, and the topsail still stood. We were not long in clearing the wreck, but for a moment there was a cessation of firing. Just then a hail came across the dark waters from the Frenchman’s deck.

“Do you strike, Sare? Do you strike?” was asked through a speaking-trumpet. Our captain seized his trumpet in return.

“Certainly, monsieur, certainly. We have been and intend to go on striking, just in the way Englishmen have the fashion of doing.”

A loud laugh burst from our crew at this answer. It just suited our tastes, and then such a hearty cheer was uttered as could not have failed to convince the Frenchman that our captain was likely to be backed by his people to the utmost. Our guns were not long silent, and once more the darkness of night was illuminated by the bright sheets of flame which burst forth in almost a continuous stream from their mouths.

What a contrast to the previous awful silence was there in the report of the guns, the rattle of musketry, the shouts of the officers, the cheers of the men, the crashing of spars and timber as the shot struck home, and the shrieks, and cries, and groans of the wounded! To these expressions of pain even the bravest cannot help giving way, when wounded where the nerves are most sensitive.

Several times the enemy attempted to close, when her greatly prepondering force of men would have told with fearful effect on our decks; but each time the attempt was made it was dexterously avoided by our captain. We had, however, begun to suffer considerably in spars and rigging, and the number of our killed and wounded was increasing. Our second lieutenant had been severely injured by the fall of the foretop-gallant-mast. A midshipman, a young lad who had just come to sea, was struck down close to me. I lifted him up in my arms for a moment, to get him carried below out of harm’s way; but the terrible injury he had received convinced me that no help could avail him. I put my hand on his heart: it had ceased to beat. Yet what voice sounded more full of life and spirit than his as we cheered at the captain’s answer to the Frenchman’s hail? On the other side of me a fine young fellow fell mortally wounded. He was just my own age, but not, like me, left alone in the world—he had many dear ones in his humble home. He felt that he had not many moments to live, though his mind was as active as ever.

“Williams!” he faintly cried. “Stoop down, lad! Don’t let them take me below: I want to die here! And I say—you know my poor mother, and Sally, and George: just tell them that you saw the last of me; that I thought of them, and prayed for them, and that I hope we may meet in that far, far-off port to which we are all bound! I haven’t forgot the prayers mother taught me, tell her. It will comfort her to know that! Good-bye, Jack!”

He pressed my hand as he uttered these words, but instantly afterwards his fingers relaxed. His spirit had fled, and I returned to my duty at my gun!

There were not many seamen, unhappily, in those days, like poor James Martin. Another shipmate was killed not far from me, and he died uttering fearful curses on our enemies, utterly ignorant of the future world into which he was entering.

Thus we fought on. Although we were severely punishing our big opponent, we could not feel that we were getting the best of the fight.

“Do you think we shall take her?” said I to Peter, during another short cessation of firing.

“I scarcely expect that,” he answered. “But I am pretty certain that he won’t take us. See, hurrah! He’s been hit again pretty hard!”

As he spoke, the frigate’s mizzen-mast, which must have been before badly wounded, went by the board, and at the same time her main-yard came down by the run on deck, no doubt doing further damage by the fall.

To show the enemy that our spirits were as high as ever, we cheered again; but, as if in retaliation, several shots, in quick succession, struck our foretopmast, and it, and the yard, and all our headsail, came thundering down on deck, in a confused mass of wreck, disabling several of our people, and rendering our foremost gun useless for a time. I was thankful that I had been stationed at a gun instead of being aloft. Some of the officers hurried forward to get the wreck cleared away, while others encouraged the men to persevere in the strife—not that any encouragement was necessary, for we were all eager to continue it, still hoping to make prize of our antagonist.

What had become of the schooner meantime we could not tell. We could only suppose that she was an unarmed vessel. Had she been armed, she might have proved a very disagreeable addition to the force with which we had to contend.

While we were clearing the wreck of the foretopmast, another broadside was poured into us, which we returned with our after-guns. It appeared to me, as I looked up again at her after loading, that the frigate was increasing her distance from us. There could be no mistake about it. Her helm had been put up, and she was running off before the wind. Didn’t we cheer heartily! but then we remembered that, deprived of our headsail, we could not follow—so we cheered again, and sent a few shots flying after her, like a dog’s farewell bark, just to show her that we claimed the victory, and would be ready for her if she chose to come back; and then we set to work with a will to repair damages.

Our couple of hours’ night work had produced not a few, and sadly changed the appearance of our trim little sloop. Still, as our foremast was standing, we were able to make headsail on the ship, and we hoped by the following morning to get matters sufficiently to rights to be able to renew the engagement should our opponent again venture to attack us. I, in common with many of the younger men, was very much disappointed at not having captured the frigate; but Peter and others who had fought in the last war, told us that we were very fortunate in not having ourselves been obliged to strike, as our opponent could not have mounted less than six-and-thirty, if not forty guns—more than twice as many as we carried. Notwithstanding this, we only hoped to see her again in the morning; and as soon as daylight appeared several eager pairs of eyes were aloft looking out for her. There, hull down to the northward, appeared a sail, which was most probably our opponent; but she was running directly before the wind.

At first we supposed that our captain would follow her; but though as brave a man as need be, as he had proved himself, he saw that the probability of capturing the frigate was too small to justify him in making the attempt—in doing which he was much more likely to lose his own ship. Shattered, indeed, did we look when the sun shone down on our blood-stained decks; and still more sad were the scenes which the wounded and dying presented below. I will not, however, now dwell on them. Several shot had gone through the ship’s sides, some between wind and water; but the holes had been quickly plugged by the carpenter’s crew. Altogether, so shattered was the sloop, that, unwilling as our captain was to give up the cruise, he had no resource but to make the best of his way to Plymouth. We arrived there ten days after the engagement; but the pumps had to be kept going all the time, and the ship was ordered into dock to undergo a thorough repair.

It is impossible for me to describe all the scenes of which I was witness during that interesting period of England’s naval history; but there was one I must not omit, as it shows what presence of mind and courage can do, in rescuing people even from the greatest difficulties.

At that time the French revolutionary party, so well named Red Republicans, were inflicting, with unsparing barbarity, the most dreadful atrocities on any of their unhappy countrymen who were even suspected of entertaining monarchical principles. The inhabitants of Toulon, as well as of several other places, were known to be favourable to the cause of their sovereign; and to afford them support, Lord Hood—then commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean—landed a body of English and Spanish troops, and took possession of the town and forts while his own fleet, with one sent by Spain to join him, entered the harbour.

At this time a number of supernumeraries, of whom I was one, sailed from Plymouth to join various ships in the Mediterranean, and, in course of time, I found myself on board the Juno, a fine 32-gun frigate, commanded by Captain Samuel Hood. We sailed from Malta early in the year 1794, with some officers and a few troops, to reinforce the scanty garrison at Toulon, then besieged, as was reported, by a formidable army of the Republicans, amounting to thirty-three thousand men, under Generals Kellerman and Carteaux.

The Juno was just the sort of dashing frigate a young fellow of spirit would wish to belong to, and her Captain was just the man he would wish to serve under. Strict discipline was kept up on board, and all hands were made to know their duty, and to do it. Her officers, too, were as smart a set as ever stepped. I was very fortunate in this, because for the first time since I came to sea I was among strangers, with the exception of Jacob Lyal, who had joined her with me. Peter Poplar was far away in another ship, and I own I missed him sorely. Still. I had learned my duty, and I hoped to continue to do it.

We had a quick passage from Malta, and made the French coast just before nightfall. We had carried on all sail, in the hope of getting in while daylight lasted, as the captain was anxious to deliver his despatches and land his passengers, and be out again in search of any stray cruisers of the enemy. The wind, however, fell so light that we were unable to do as he hoped. But he was not a man to be turned from his purpose. Accordingly, rather than lose a day, he stood boldly in for the harbour-mouth, which is not a difficult one to make. We expected that a pilot would have come out to us, but none appeared; and as no signal was made for one, it was then known that the captain intended to find his way in in the dark.

Trusty men were placed in the chains with the lead; all hands were at their stations; those with the sharpest eyes were placed as look-outs; the captain stood, trumpet in hand, on the quarter-deck, ready to issue his orders. Not a word was spoken fore or aft. The wind was light, and nearly abeam. Thus, with a dead silence reigning on board, the gallant frigate entered the harbour of Toulon. The officers, with their night-glasses in hand, were anxiously looking out for the British fleet, that they might ascertain where the frigate was to bring-up. In vain they swept them round in every direction; no fleet was to be seen. The circumstance was reported to the captain.

“The easterly winds we have had have sent a heavy sea rolling in here. They must have run into the inner harbour to avoid it. We must follow them there,” was his answer. “Shorten sail! Let the ship stand in under her topsails.”

The courses were accordingly brailed up, and the top-gallant-sails furled, and under easy sail we stood up the inner harbour. Still nothing could we see of the fleet—not a light did any of the ships show.

On we glided through the calm water. “A brig ahead, sir!” shouted the third lieutenant from forward.

“Shall we weather her?” asked the captain.

The answer was in the negative. “Set the foresail and spanker! Ready, about-ship!”

Scarcely had the boatswain’s shrill pipe uttered the appropriate call, than the sails were let fall and sheeted home; and as soon as the frigate felt the effect they produced, the helm was put a-lee, and she went about close under the stern of the brig, which lay in her course. A loud hail came from the brig, but I for one could not make out what was said.

“That’s not an English brig,” observed one of the officers near me. She lay off what is called the Grand Tour Point.

“He is inquiring our name,” said another officer.

“His Britannic Majesty’s frigate Juno,” shouted the first lieutenant.

“Wah—wah—wah!” or sounds something like that, came from the brig. Some one also shouted, “Viva!”

“Whereabouts is the English fleet?” asked the captain. “Have they sailed? Is the admiral still here?”

“Wah—wah—wah!” was the only answer we got. The questions were repeated in French.

“Yes—yes; oui—oui; wah—wah—wah!” was again the reply.

“That’s a French merchant-brig. They cannot make out what we say. The fleet must have gone over to the other side of the harbour.”

Directly afterwards, the words, “Luff—luff!” reached our ears.

“They are afraid we shall be ashore, sir,” said the first lieutenant.

“Then down with the helm!” shouted the captain. The order was promptly obeyed, and the frigate came up almost head to wind; but scarcely a minute had passed when we felt that she had run stem on to the ground; but so light was the wind, and so slight was the way on her, that no damage of any sort was done.

Of course the order was immediately given to clew-up and hand the sails; and in another minute or so the Juno lay with all sails furled right up in the centre of the harbour of Toulon, with a line of heavy batteries between her and the sea. While we were handing sails, a boat was seen to put off from the brig; but instead of coming aboard us, she pulled away rapidly in the direction of the town.

Before, however, we were even off the yards, a flaw of wind took the ship’s head, and happily drove it off the bank, when the anchor was let go, and she lay with her head up the harbour. Still, however, she hung on the bank by the stern, while her rudder remained immovable and useless. Seeing this, the captain ordered a kedge to be carried out to warp her off; which, as she hung very lightly, could easily be done. To perform this operation the launch was lowered; but being a heavy boat, it took some time to get her into the water. Warps and the kedge-anchor were then placed in her, and her crew pulled away with the kedge in the proper direction to haul her off. While we were thus engaged, a boat was seen coming down the harbour.

“What boat’s that?” hailed the sentry from forward.

“Ay, ay,” was the answer.

“Officers coming alongside!” cried the sentry—such being the answer given by naval officers when hailed by a ship-of-war. A captain repeats the name of his ship.

The gangway was manned to receive the visitors. Every one was puzzled to know the meaning of a visit at so unusual an hour, and anxious to know what it meant. A well-manned boat came alongside, and two French officers, with several other people, scrambled up on deck.

“Be smart, then, my lads, with the kedge,” sung out Mr Webley, third lieutenant, from forward. “We must get the ship afloat before the wind drives her further on.”

The French officers looked about the decks for an instant, and then, followed by their people, went aft to the captain, who was standing on the quarter-deck ready to receive them.

“Monsieur le Capitaine,” said one of them, taking off his hat and bowing politely, “I am sent by the chief of the port to compliment you on the way you have brought your ship into this loyal port, but to express regret that the regulations he has been compelled to issue make it necessary for you to go over to the southern side of the harbour, there to perform a quarantine for a short ten days or so, as you come from Alexandria, an infected place.”

“But we don’t come from Alexandria; we come from Malta, which is not an infected place,” answered the captain.

“Then, monsieur, Malta is an infected place,” returned the officer, quickly.

“I cannot understand that,” answered Captain Hood. “I have to deliver my despatches, and some supernumeraries for the army here, and then to be away again as fast as possible. I beg, gentlemen, you will inform me where the Victory, Lord Hood’s ship, is. I must be guided by his orders.”

“Certainly, monsieur, certainly,” said the Frenchman, bowing with a bland smile. “We will pilot you to him.”

I remember thinking, as the Frenchmen walked along the deck, that there was a good deal of swagger in their manner, but I only set it down to Gallic impudence. While this conversation was going on, one of our midshipmen, a smart youngster—Mowbray, I think, was his name—had been inquisitively examining the Frenchmen, and he now hurried up to the captain, and drew him aside.

“Just look, sir—those are Republican cockades!” he whispered. “As the light of a lantern fell on their hats, I observed it. There’s some trick put upon us.”

“In truth you are right, my lad, I greatly fear,” answered the captain, in an agitated voice. “Where do you say Lord Hood is?” he asked, turning abruptly to the Frenchman.

“My Lord Hood! He is not here. He has long ago departed. We have no lords here,” answered the French officer in a sneering tone. “You have made a great mistake, and are like a rat in a hole. The truth is, Monsieur le Capitaine, you and your ship’s company are prisoners! But make yourself easy—the English are good people—we will treat them kindly.”

“Prisoners!” exclaimed Captain Hood and the officers standing near, in tones of dismay. “Prisoners! impossible!” But the assertion was too true.

Lord Hood had been compelled to evacuate Toulon some time before, with all the forces under his command, after blowing up, by the aid of Sir Sidney Smith, several of the forts, and destroying or carrying away every ship in the harbour; while the unfortunate inhabitants were exposed to all the cruelties which their sanguinary opponents could inflict on them.

As may be supposed, the Republican Frenchmen exulted in the idea of having so easily captured an English frigate, and a large number of Englishmen on whom they might retaliate for some of the losses their party had sustained. As ill news travels quickly, so in an instant the words in everybody’s mouth were, “We are prisoners! we are prisoners!” Some would scarcely believe it, and the officers and many of the men hurried aft in a body to ascertain the fact. Mr Webley had remained forward, and before we had been able to haul on the warp she had laid out, he promptly recalled the launch, and ordered the people out of her up the side. The boatswain was standing near him.

“See,” he exclaimed, “there’s a flaw of wind just come down the harbour. If it holds, the Frenchmen, even should this report be true, need not be quite so sure as they think that they have caught us.”

Saying this, he hurried aft to the captain, while the boatswain, not to lose time, made all the necessary preparations for making sail and cutting the cable.

“I believe, sir, that we shall be able to fetch out, if we can get her under sail,” said the lieutenant in the captain’s ear. The words made him start, and restored vigour to his heart.

“Thank you, Webley, thank you,” exclaimed the captain, when the third lieutenant told him that the wind had come ahead. “We’ll make the attempt, and may Heaven prosper it!”

Without a moment’s delay, the first lieutenant issued the order to make sail, while Mr Webley hurried forward to see the cable cut, as she tended the right way. Like larks we sprang aloft to loose the topsails, and all was done so silently and so rapidly, that the Frenchmen could not make out what was occurring.

“Gentlemen,” said the captain, politely addressing the officers, “I must trouble you to step below. We have duty in this ship to carry on which will not require your presence.”

“But,” exclaimed the Frenchmen, uttering all the oaths in their ample vocabulary, “you are our prisoners. We do not choose to obey your orders.”

“You mistake; you are ours! Englishmen do not yield unless to greatly superior force,” exclaimed our captain. “Gentlemen, you must go below.”

The Frenchmen laughed scornfully. “Treason! mutiny!” they exclaimed, drawing their sabres, and attempting to make a rush to the gangway; but as they turned, they found themselves confronted by a file of marines, with fixed bayonets presented at them!

Rage, and fury, and disappointed revenge were in the tones of their voices, as they gave vent to their feelings in oaths and execrations while they were being handed below. Not a man of their boat’s crew escaped, for all had come on board to witness the capture, as they supposed, of a British frigate.

During this time the topsails had been let fall, and in less than three minutes were sheeted home. The headsails filled. At the very moment they did so, a stronger puff of wind came right down the harbour. “Cut, cut!” was the word. Round swung her head towards the open sea. Almost with a bound it seemed her stern lifted off the ground. “Hurrah! hurrah! We are free! we are free!” was the joyful cry. Now, come shot or shell, or whatever our foemen choose to send. We have our brave ship under command, and if our stout sticks do but stand, we may yet escape the trap into which we have so unwarily fallen.

Such were the sentiments which were felt, if not expressed, by all on board the frigate. Plenty of sharp eyes were on shore, watching through the gloom of night, as far as they were able, the movements of the English frigate, expecting to see her every moment glide up the harbour, where, of course, troops had been rapidly collected to take possession of the prize, and conduct us within the precincts of a French prison.

The Republicans must soon have discovered that their plan to capture us had not been altogether successful. As we sailed down the harbour, instead of up, as they had expected, lights began to gleam from the various strong forts which lined each side of the harbour below us, and also from the deck of our friend the brig, off Great Tower Point. Then, as we glided on, every moment gathering fresh way, from all directions a hot fire was opened on us. As with the light wind there was blowing it was necessary to be rid of every obstruction, both our barge and the Frenchmen’s boat were cut adrift, though we would gladly have prevented even them from falling into their hands.

There was now no longer any necessity for concealment. The drums beat to quarters, the guns were cast loose, and as we passed down the harbour we began to return the compliments our enemies were so liberally bestowing on us. We had our guns ready in time to give our friend the brig a good dose, but what mischief we inflicted we could not tell; and, to do her justice, she was not slack in her attempts to cripple us. Thus in an instant the harbour, so lately sleeping in silence, and, as it were, shrouded in the solemn gloom of night, was rudely awaked and lighted up with the roar and bright flashes of a hundred guns, which, fast as they could be discharged, sent forth a continuous fire at our seemingly devoted ship. Thus far all had proceeded well; but we were far from free of danger. Shot after shot struck us, several times we were hulled, but not a man had yet been hit, when, to our dismay, the wind grew very scant, and seemed about to head us.

“If it shifts a couple of points more to the southward, we shall have to beat out of this place!” exclaimed the captain of the gun at which I was stationed. “Never mind, lads; we’ll teach these Frenchmen what a British frigate can do in spite of all that.”

Still the Juno steadily held on her course. The wind backed once more and came down the harbour, and on she glided. The enemy’s guns were, however, telling on us with fearful effect—our topsails were riddled with shot, and our rigging much cut up; but as the damage occurred, our active crew flew here and there to repair it, as well as time and the darkness would allow. Now the harbour opened out broadly before us, and the line of open sea could be perceived ahead. Our masts and spars stood unharmed, the firing from the forts grew fainter and fainter. Scarcely a shot reached us. On we stood. The shot began to drop astern. For several minutes not one had struck us. The Frenchmen tried in their rage, but all in vain.

“We are free! we are free indeed! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” burst with one voice from all our crew, and the gallant Juno bounded forward on the wide ocean, to show what British daring, judgment, and promptitude will effect, even although the most fearful odds are ranged against success.

I trust that some on board that ship felt also that a merciful Providence had preserved us from a galling and painful lot, which would have endured for many a long year, to do our duty to Heaven and our country. I trust that the example set by the crew of the Juno will serve as an example to all British seamen—never to yield while there is a possibility of escape.

Well, it was amusing to see how the Frenchmen did stamp and rage when they found that, instead of capturing us, they had been taken prisoners; but we treated them very civilly, and after a few shrugs and grimaces, like people having to take physic, we soon had the men singing and jigging away as merry as crickets.

I remained for some time on board the Juno, and left her on a very short notice, and very much also against my own will.

One dark night, as, with a convoy of merchantmen under our charge, we were standing for Gibraltar, the watch below were roused up with the cry of, “All hands shorten sail!” I and others, tossing on our clothes, sprang aloft through the darkness, with a fierce wind blowing in our faces, to reef topsails. Scarcely had I reached the lee foretop-sail yard-arm, and had, as I believed, the earing in my hand, when, how I cannot tell, I found myself jerked off the yard; and ere I could secure a firm grasp of the rope I held, I found myself hurled through the midnight air, clutching emptiness, till I reached the foam-covered water, through which the ship was hurriedly ploughing her way. I heard the cry, “A man overboard! a man overboard!” but the ship had been carrying too much sail, and without shortening it, it was impossible to round-to in order to pick me up. From the frigate, therefore, I knew that I could expect no help. I do not believe that for a moment after I fell I lost my consciousness, though I suspect that before I fell I was more asleep than awake. I had on only my shirt and light duck-trousers, so I threw myself on my back, to consider what was best to be done. There were plenty of vessels, I knew, astern of the frigate, but there was little chance of being seen by any of them, or of their being able to pick me up if they did see me.

How long I could have remained floating on my back I don’t know—some hours, I suppose, in smooth water; but as it was, the squall had blown up a sea, and the spray kept dashing over my head and half drowned me. On a sudden I found my head strike against something with so much force as almost to stun me, and, turning round, I found myself in contact with a large object. I caught hold of it. Ropes were hanging down from it into the water; I climbed up by them, and found that it was the top and parts of the topmast of a ship of large size. I felt thankful that I was not likely to die for some time, unless the weather grew worse; and I did not allow myself to reflect that even a worse death might be in store for me—that of starvation. I had my knife secured by a lanyard round my neck, so I began to haul up the ropes, and endeavoured to form as secure a resting-place for myself as circumstances would allow. When I had done all I could, I looked round through the darkness for the chance of discovering a sail; but none could I see, so I sat down, and, strange to say, fell asleep.

On leaving the Glutton, I was struck down by sickness, and lay for many long months in the hospital at Portsmouth, scarcely expecting to recover. Oh, how hideous did Death, which I had braved a hundred times in open fight, appear as silently he stalked along the wards of the hospital! I trembled as I thought of the past;—how small was the hope I had in the future! There was no one to bring me comfort—no one to afford counsel—no one to point out the right, the only way by which a sinner can be justified in the sight of a pure, just, holy God. Many good resolutions I made—as many were soon afterwards broken. I recovered; health returned to my veins—vigour to my arm. Once more I was afloat in a dashing frigate.

We were off the Frenchman’s coast. In a deep bay lay a number of the enemy’s vessels. It was necessary to ascertain their character. They were supposed to be gun-boats. Our second lieutenant, Mr Ronald—a noble specimen of a naval officer, and as active as a cat, though he had but one leg—was directed to take the gig, a fast-pulling boat, and to gain all the information he could. I was with him; so was Peter. The frigate had made sail, as if about to leave the coast; but as soon as it was dark, she stood back again. The gig was lowered, and we shoved off.

In dead silence, with muffled oars, we pulled in towards the shore. We knew that the enemy mustered strong in the neighbourhood. Thus it was necessary to be cautious. Not a word was spoken. The phosphorescent light sparkled from the blades of our oars, appearing brighter from the darkness which prevailed, but that could not be seen at any distance. The time for our expedition had been well selected. We had pitchy darkness to favour our advance; but we knew that the moon would soon rise, and enable us to make the necessary observations. We pulled slowly in, for the tide was with us, and Mr Ronald told us to reserve our strength till it would be most required. As we got close in with the shore, we could make out the masts of a number of vessels, in a confused mass; but what they were without more light, it was impossible to say without going close up to them. Mr Ronald was not a man to leave his work half done through fear of consequences, so we pulled on till our oars almost touched some of the outer vessels. Our officer made his remarks as we continued our course round the bay.

Not a sound had broken the stillness of the night except the almost inaudible dip of our oars in the water. The clouds, which had hitherto obscured the sky, floated gradually away; the stars shone forth bright and clear, their sparkling orbs reflected in the smooth water; and then, rising from behind the land, the moon shed her calm silvery gleam across the sheltered bay. We were at the time under the shadow of some high land. “Give way, my lads; it is time we should be out of this!” whispered the lieutenant. It was time indeed! Peter’s quick eye, looking seaward, observed several dark objects floating in the distance. “Boats in!” he said, pointing in that direction. The lieutenant looked there also. There could be no doubt about it. There were four large boats. He ordered us to lay on our oars, to watch in what direction they would pull. We hoped that they had not as yet observed us. The people in the boats seemed to be holding a conference. At last they parted. One pulled across the mouth of the bay in one direction; one in the other; but two advanced up the bay. There seemed no possibility of our escaping without being seen. Still it was far from Mr Ronald’s intention of giving in till he was actually laid hold of. Hitherto the shade of the cliff prevented our being seen. The gap between the boats through which we could hope to escape widened more and more. Meantime, our thoughts were occupied in the contemplation of the pleasures of a French prison, of which we had too often heard to have any wish to enjoy them. Mr Ronald watched our opportunity. “Now, my lads,” he whispered, “give way with a will!” We needed no encouragement. As a rat darts out of the corner in which it has taken shelter when the dogs stand ready on either side hoping to catch it, so we darted out from our sheltered nook towards the open sea.

The movement drew the attention of the French boats towards us, and in another minute all four were steering courses which would give them every prospect of cutting us off. We were all armed, but it would have been madness to attempt to beat off so overwhelming a force. We had to trust alone to the fleetness of our heels. We might have a prospect of distancing the two boats which had gone up the bay, and which were on our larboard-hand, but we must inevitably run the gauntlet between the other two. The question was, whether we could pass through them before they closed in on us. We made the strong ash sticks bend again as we sent the boat flying through the bubbling water. We sung out in our eagerness, encouraging each other. Every moment the space between the two boats was narrowing. We did not give in though. The Frenchmen now saw that there was a chance of our escaping, and began firing. The bullets flew thickly about our heads. Several hit the gunwale of the boat, but none of us were hurt. Their firing rather encouraged us to persevere, in the hope of escaping.

At last I felt a severe blow on my arm, and involuntarily dropped my oar. A bullet had struck it. Still, I was sure it was not broken; so I took my handkerchief off my neck, and bound it up. I seized my oar, and pulled on. “Oh, the blackguards! sure if they’d give us a fair start, and not be sending their dirty bullets at us, we’d be after bating them entirely, now!” sung out an Irishman, who pulled the bow-oar. Many people would, under the circumstances we were placed in, have given up before this; but Mr Ronald still hoped that we might dodge our enemies, and escape. The boats were not a hundred yards on either side of us. They gave way with a will. So did we. Still we might slip between them. If we did, we should have a good start; and pulling fast, as we could do, we might escape, should they not continue firing at us; but how could we expect them to be so lenient? On they came; narrow, indeed, grew the space between them. We dashed on. With a cry of dismay, we saw that our efforts were of no avail! With such force did they come on, that they literally almost cut our boat in two; and as she sunk between them, we had to jump out—some into one boat, some into the other—to save ourselves from drowning, and to find ourselves prisoners.

How the Frenchmen did jabber away, and ask us all sorts of questions, none of which we could answer, from not being able to muster a word of French amongst us. The other boats came up, and then there was still more jabbering; and then the Frenchmen made us all get into one boat, and pulled with us towards a point of land on the east side of the bay. The boat soon reached a small, rough pier, and then two of the men, jumping on shore, ran off towards the town, which stood a little way off from us. We sat, meantime, wondering what was to be our fate.

Shortly afterwards the tramp of feet was heard, and six or eight soldiers, or militiamen, or gendarmes, appeared, and halted near us. The officer of the boat then had a talk with them, and committed us to their charge. I have no doubt he told them to take good care that we did not run away. The boat, we concluded, had to row watch, and could not remain long absent from her post. The soldiers, before receiving us, grounded arms; shoved their ramrods down their muskets, to show us that they were loaded; examined the primings in the pans, and then, presenting their bayonets at our backs, in most unpleasant proximity, ordered us to advance. Our cutlasses had been taken away, and, of course, the muskets had gone down with the gig; but both Mr Ronald and Peter had their pistols stuck in their belts, inside their great-coats, so the Frenchmen did not discover them. We did not wish our first captors good-bye, nor exchange a word with each other, but, seeing there was no help for it, slowly stumbled on over the uneven ground ahead of our guards. I hoped that they would keep their footing better than we did; for, if not, some of us would stand a great chance of being run through with their bayonets. Had we not been unarmed, and aware that the boat was within hail, I don’t think we should have allowed ourselves to have been carried along as prisoners.

However, our walk was soon at an end, and we reached the tower, which stood a short distance along-shore from where we landed, and not three hundred yards from the beach. It appeared to be in a very tumble-down ruinous condition, as we inspected it from the outside. We concluded that we should have to wait here till the following morning, before being marched off to prison. Whether the tower had been built for a fort, or only a mill, or a look-out place, it was difficult to discover in the scant light we had. There was a small arched door before us, with some stone winding-steps leading up from it. The sergeant in command of the party pointed to it, and some of the men gave us a gentle prick with the end of their bayonets, singing out, at the same time, some words which we guessed to be a command to go up there.

“Let me go first, sir,” exclaimed Peter Poplar, springing through the door. “There may be some trap in the way, and it’s hard that you should have to fall down that, at all events.”

When we were all in, the soldiers followed, making us go winding-up till we reached a chamber at the top of the building. The French soldiers saw us all in, and then shoving to the door, they shut it with a loud bang; but as there was no sound of bolts or bars, we guessed that there were none to the door.

The light of the moon shone directly in through a loop-holed slip of a window, and we saw some billets of wood, and a small cask or two, and a few three-legged stools, with a broken table, and the remains of a bedstead, showing that the place had once been inhabited. Mr Ronald took a seat, and told us to follow his example; so we all sat down, feeling certainly very melancholy at first. We had much reason to be melancholy, for by this time we had heard a good deal about French prisons, and the treatment English prisoners received in them; and we could scarcely fancy a worse fate than to have to spend our future days in one. The lieutenant, however, was not the man to allow himself or others long to indulge in such thoughts. He got up.

“We are in a bad plight, certainly, my lads,” said he; “but we’ll see if we cannot mend it. I have been in a worse plight myself—and so, I daresay, have you—and managed to escape without damage. Perhaps we may do so in this case.”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter; “indeed I have.” And he described how we had escaped from the pirates’ den in Cuba.

I told my companions how I had been preserved from being murdered by the Maroons; and altogether we soon got each other’s spirits up. My wounded arm hurt me not a little, but Peter took off my jacket, and bound it up carefully; and though I cannot say that the pain was much decreased, I resolved to bear it without complaining.

Meantime, Mr Ronald made a minute examination of the place of our confinement; and by stepping on the table he discovered a hole in the roof, which he found that he could, without difficulty, make as large as he might wish. He at once set to work to do so, we all talking and walking about the room, to conceal any noise he might make. When he had got the hole large enough to admit his body, Peter, putting his shoulder under him, gave him a hoist through it, and with his hands and elbows he quickly scrambled up on the roof. As it sloped very much he could not walk about, so he sat himself down to make his observations. Having done so, and stayed some time to consider matters and form his plans, he came back into the room.

“My lads,” said he, calling us round him, “you must clearly understand the position we are in. We are prisoners to our greatest enemies. They may choose to consider us as spies, and may cut our throats, or shoot us as such; and, at all events, they will send us to prison, and there keep us, as they have done many of our countrymen, till the war is over. Now, while I was on the roof I saw, not far from the beach, a small boat moored; and a mile or so away, I made out what I take to be a fleet of fishing-boats. What I propose is, to knock over the sentry at the door, and, if we can, we’ll surprise the rest of the soldiers, and gag and bind them. If they show fight, it can’t be helped: we must kill them. At all events, we must prevent them from raising an alarm, or following us. We will then make the best of our way to the beach, and I will undertake to swim off, and bring in the small boat I saw there. When we get her, it will be very hard if we cannot cut out some fishing-smack or other, in which we can cross over to England. If we don’t succeed, we shall probably get killed ourselves; but if we do, we shall obtain our liberty, and that is worth a struggle.”

This speech inspirited us all, and we could scarcely refrain from shouting, as we promised to follow his directions, and to stick by him through thick and thin.

The Frenchmen seeing that he had a wooden leg, and hearing him stump up and down, of course fancied that he would never attempt to run away; or that if he did make the attempt, he would not go without them finding it out. This, perhaps, made them more careless in the way they watched us. At all events, they had not even then found out what stuff English sailors are made of; and I don’t think they ever will.

“Then, my lads, there’s no time to be lost,” said the lieutenant. “Are you all ready?”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter, speaking for the rest; “but I beg pardon, sir, won’t your leg be heard as we go down, and it may give notice to the Frenchmen?”

“I have thought of that,” said Mr Ronald, fastening a handkerchief round the end of the stump. “Now, I shall tread as softly as a cat.”

We had all taken off our shoes, and armed ourselves with the legs of the table and the legs of the stools we had found in the room. My heart beat quick. Never had I been engaged in so daring a work. We dared not try the door till the moment we were to rush out. Mr Ronald gave the signal, and he leading the way, we threw open the door, and, before the sentry could turn his head, or even cry out, we had our hands on his mouth, and throwing him down backwards among us, we squeezed every breath out of his body. Whether he lived or died, I cannot say. We seized his musket and bayonet and sword, and without a moment’s delay, which would have been fatal, we rushed on, and sprung like wild beasts into the room where our guards were sitting. Some were sleeping; others were playing at cards; two were talking with their heads bent together. They had not time to look up even before we were upon them. Mr Ronald ran one of the card-players through with the sword we had taken from the guard; Peter killed another with the bayonet. I shall not forget his look of astonishment and dismay when he saw us standing before him. One of the other men knocked over a third with the leg of the table. Before the others could seize their arms, we had got hold of them. Mr Ronald was obliged to kill another man, who fought so desperately that we could not otherwise master him; and throwing ourselves on the remaining three, we bound and gagged them, and lashed them to the benches on which they had been sitting. The whole affair did not take us a minute. It was very bloody work, but it could not be helped. We then hurried to the bottom of the tower, and broke open the door. We had been prisoners a very short time, and could scarcely believe ourselves to be free.

Hastening down to the beach, Mr Ronald stripped off his clothes, and plunging into the water, with his knife in his mouth, swam off towards the little boat he had before observed. Had it not been for my wound, I would gladly have gone instead of him. In spite of his wooden leg, he swam fast and strongly, and soon reached the boat. Getting into her, he cut her from her moorings, and then quickly paddled her to the more. More than once we had turned a glance inland, lest we mould have been observed; but, without interruption, Mr Ronald dressed, and then all of us getting into the boat, we pulled out seaward. She was too small to allow us, with any prospect of safety, to cross the Channel in her, so that we could not yet consider our enterprise accomplished.

We had armed ourselves with the soldiers’ weapons, so that, had there been a strong breeze off-shore, we should not have been afraid to have attacked and attempted to cut out any merchant vessel or other well-armed craft. As it was, Mr Ronald judged that it would be wiser to endeavour to capture one of the fishing-boats he had seen. Muffling our oars, therefore, in dead silence we pulled out towards the largest of the fleet, and which lay the outermost of them all. Gliding alongside, we stepped softly on board. Her crew were, as we expected, asleep, and before they had opened their eyes we had our hands on their throats and our knees on their bosoms. As there were only three men and a boy, we easily mastered them; and, having bound and gagged them, we put them into the forepeak, while we proceeded to haul up the anchor and get the vessel under way.

As soon as we could attend to our prisoners, we made signs to them that we would not hurt them; and I fancied that they considered themselves very fortunate in not having their throats cut, or being thrown overboard, by those terrible monsters, “les bÊtes Anglais.” There was a light air off the shore, and, with very great satisfaction, we stood away from it. Anxiously we looked towards the coast we were leaving, but, as far as our eyes could pierce the gloom, we could not discover any vessel in pursuit of us. Still we were not free from danger, as we were likely enough to fall in with a French vessel, and again find ourselves prisoners. Mr Ronald, who was as kind and thoughtful as he was brave, told me to go to sleep; but my arm gave me too much pain to allow me to do so.

The hours of night passed by, and day dawned; the bright sun arose on a cloudless sky. The coast of France rose in blue ridges astern of us, but not a sail was in sight all round the horizon. As our prospect of escaping recapture improved, our appetites, which we had not thought about, reminded us that we had gone a long time without eating; but when we came to examine the fishermen’s lockers, we found only a little black bread aboard, and a most scanty supply of water. They made us understand that their boat had gone on shore with some of their comrades to bring off water and provisions. Mr Ronald insisted on preserving most of the water for me, as a fever was already on me, and I was suffering dreadfully from thirst.

The wind was very light, and we made but little way. As the sun rose, however, clouds began to collect to the northward, and the sky overhead became covered over with those long wavy white lines which go by the name of “mares’ tails,” and which always betoken wind. Still we stood on as before. Every now and then, however, a puff would come which threw the sails aback; but it quickly passed away, to be succeeded shortly by a stronger and more continuous one. At last the breeze headed us altogether, freshening up rapidly, till Mr Ronald called all hands to reef sails. The wind soon got the sea up, and in a short time we were pitching away close-hauled, with the boat’s head to the north-west. Changed, indeed, was the weather since the morning: then all had been bright, and blue, and calm; now, in the afternoon, the sky hung dark and gloomy, with heavy clouds, and green foam-topped seas danced wildly around us. I do not know what Mr Ronald thought about the matter, but as I lay on my back suffering from pain, hunger, and thirst, I began to question whether the ill-found boat would live through the sea which was getting up.

Meantime a sharp look-out was kept for any vessel which might put us on shore anywhere on the English coast. At length a sail was seen to the eastward, and after watching her for some time, both Mr Ronald and Peter were of opinion that she would cross our course. This news cheered the spirits of all hands, for they had begun to suffer painfully from hunger and thirst. No one had taken more than a very small piece of black bread, for we could not deprive the poor French fishermen of their share of food. We were most anxious, on several accounts, that the stranger should get up to us before dark—in the first place, that we might ascertain whether she was friend or foe, and also lest we should miss her altogether. Should she prove French, we hoped, in spite of our hunger, still to avoid her. To mislead any enemies, we got out the Frenchmen’s clothes left on board, and rigged ourselves out as fishermen.

“I feel pretty sure that vessel is English, sir,” said Peter, who had been watching the stranger. “But still I can’t make out what is the matter with her; she has been handled pretty roughly, I suspect.”

Mr Ronald pronounced her to be a brig-of-war without any after-sail set; and as she drew near, we saw that there was good reason for this, as her mainmast had been carried away by the board, while her hull also had been much knocked about. It was clear that she had been in action. Mr Ronald waved to her; and, to our no small satisfaction, we saw her clewing up her sails to speak to us.

Before going alongside, however, Mr Ronald released the Frenchmen, and, as he thought, explained to them that we were going on board the brig, and that they might return to the French coast. The Frenchmen stretched their limbs, and looked about them while we were going alongside the brig. This was an operation not altogether easy or free of risk, but we succeeded in getting hold of her. Mr Ronald went up first, followed by the other men; and as I was far too weak to help myself up, Peter had gone up the side, and was singing out for a rope, when the Frenchmen, instigated by what notion I know not, but fancying, I believe, that they were to be made prisoners, cut off the tow-rope, and hoisting the foresail, put down the helm, and stood away from the brig. Active as monkeys, they soon swayed up the mainsail, and, hauling close on a wind, they rapidly left the brig astern. I saw Peter eagerly waving to them to come back, and I have no doubt but that he fancied if they did not they would murder me. The brig, having no after-sail, could not haul her wind, so that my shipmates were perfectly unable to recover me. I certainly could do nothing to help myself, so I lay quiet, and trusted that the Frenchmen would have pity on me. I still thought they might murder me; and, at all events, expected that I should be sent to a French prison. I only hoped that we might not reach the part of the coast we had come from, for I could scarcely expect to escape being put to death when it was known that I was one of the party who had killed the French soldiers placed to guard us.

I do not think, at the same time, that the Frenchmen had any murderous intentions. They were so pleased at recovering their boat and their liberty, that they were inclined to treat me civilly, if not kindly, and they continued to supply me with bread and water as I required. As we were half-way across the Channel, and they had lost their reckoning, we were not likely, I hoped, to make a good landfall in their attempt to reach their home.

With anxious eyes I watched the brig on board which my shipmates had taken refuge, but darkness coming on, we very soon lost sight of her. My heart sunk within me, and I burst into a fit of tears, the first I had shed for many a long year. They were as anxious to avoid meeting any vessel as we had just been to find one. The wind had again chopped round to the southward, and though not blowing very strong, we made but little progress.

All night we stood on under close-reefed canvas, and when the next morning dawned, I saw land to the southward. Its appearance evidently puzzled the Frenchmen. I guessed it to be no other than that of the island of Guernsey; while not a mile off, standing towards us under her topsails, was a large schooner. Had the Frenchmen altered their course, and run away from her, it would have excited the suspicions of those on board, so they kept on as before. This plan, however, did not avail them. A shot, which before long came whistling across our fore-foot, showed them that they were wanted alongside the schooner. The schooner hoisted English colours, and from her general appearance I had no doubt that she was a privateer. As soon, therefore, as the boat went alongside, I sung out that I was an Englishman, and a prisoner.

“Halloa! Who’s that?” said a man, looking over the side of the schooner. “What! Jack Williams, is that you?” The speaker, without waiting for my reply, let himself down into the boat, and as he grasped my hand, I recognised him as my old acquaintance Jacob Lyal.

Pointing to my arm, I told him that I had been wounded, and how ill I was; and he at once sung out for a sling, and in another minute I was safely placed on the deck of the vessel.

The captain of the schooner then ordered the Frenchmen into the boat, and putting some of his people in her, she was dropped astern. I don’t know what he said to the Frenchmen, but they seemed far from contented with the change of lot. I learned afterwards that he wanted the boat to go in and cut out some French merchantmen.

The schooner had a surgeon on board, and when the captain heard the account I gave Lyal of my late adventures, he directed that I should be immediately placed under his charge. I flesh, as soon as the fever abated, I got rapidly well and fit for duty.

The schooner was, I found, the Black Joke, belonging to the island of Guernsey. Lyal so worked on my imagination, by the accounts he gave of the life of a privateer’s-man, and the prize-money to be made, that he soon persuaded me to enter aboard her. There cannot be the shadow of a doubt that I ought to have gone back, by the first opportunity, to join my own ship; though, of course, I knew that, under the circumstances of the case, I ran very little fear of punishment by not doing so, should I at any time happen to fall in with her. The schooner was a very large vessel of her class, and mounted sixteen 6-pounders, with a crew of some eighty men or more. Captain Savage, who commanded her, was a bold dashing fellow, but he cared nothing for honour, or glory, or patriotism. He had only one object in view in fighting—it was to make money. Privateering was the shortest and easiest way he knew of, and as his professional knowledge and experience fitted him for the life, he took the command of the Black Joke. His first officer, Mr Le Gosselen, was just the man for the sort of work to be done. He was a strongly-built, short, bull-necked man, and a first-rate seaman; but whatever human sympathies he might have had in his youth had all apparently been washed out of him.

The schooner had only left Guernsey, after a refit, the day before I was taken on board her. I had been a fortnight in her before any prize of consequence was made. A few coasters had been surprised by means of the fishing-boat, but their cargoes were of very little value, and only two or three were worth sending into port. Of the rest, some were sunk, and others allowed to continue on their voyage, after anything worth having was taken out of them. The time had at last arrived when Captain Savage hoped to fall in with a convoy of French ships coming home from the West Indies. For a week or more we cruised about in the latitude they would probably be found in, but we saw nothing of them.

At length, at daybreak one morning, several sail were seen hull down to the northward, and steering east. The wind was about south, so we stood away close-hauled towards them, in order to reconnoitre them more perfectly. As the sun rose, and we drew nearer, many more appeared, their white sails dotting the ocean far and wide.

“That’s what we’ve been looking for, my lads!” cried the captain, pointing them out to the crew. “If we get hold of two or three of those fellows, we shall soon line our pockets with gold.”

A loud cheer fore and aft showed that the speech suited the taste of his hearers. Great, indeed, was the contrast in the discipline between a privateer and a man-of-war. There was plenty of flogging, and swearing, and rope’s-ending, which the officers considered necessary to keep up their authority; but there was also a free-and-easy swagger, and an independent air about the men, which showed that they considered themselves on a par with their officers, and that they could quit the vessel whenever they fancied a change. At first I did not at all like it, but by degrees I got accustomed to the life, and imitated the example of all around.

We stood on cautiously towards the Frenchmen, the officers’ glasses being continually turned towards them, to watch for any suspicious movement in the fleet. The captain had no doubt what they were, and all day we continued hovering about them, like a bird of prey ready to pounce down on its victim. We got near enough to make out a man-of-war in the van, and another in the centre of the fleet, while a number of stragglers brought up the rear. Of some of these latter we hoped to make prizes. Having ascertained this much, we stood off again from them, that, should our appearance have raised their suspicions, they might be again set to rest. Marking well the course they were steering, we knew that we should easily again fall in with them.

The nights, to favour our enterprise, had been very dark, so that we might hope to pick out several, provided no noise was made, without being discovered. We waited anxiously for night to put our enterprise into execution; and as the sun set, we crowded all sail to come up with the convoy. Few vessels could surpass the schooner in her sailing qualities, which made her peculiarly fitted for the sort of work she was employed in.

By midnight, we made out on our starboard-bow several sail, which we had no doubt were some of the sternmost vessels of the French convoy; so we stood towards them without hesitation. If any of the Frenchmen caught sight of the privateer, they probably took her for one of their own fleet. Slowly, their dark, misty-like forms glided by, while we watched them with eager eyes, wondering which the captain would select as our first victim. At last came a large brig. She was somewhat high out of the water, and her main-topgallant-mast had been carried away.

“That’s the craft for us, boys!” cried Captain Savage, pointing her out. “Her cargo’s light, and probably the most valuable; and I doubt not that she has some wealthy passengers with their jewel-boxes with them. We will run them aboard, and try if we can’t take them without firing a shot!”

We had got to windward of the fleet, and the helm being put up, we edged down towards the brig which it had been determined to take. In dead silence we approached our victim. As we drew near, the stranger observed us, and her people must have suspected that all was not right. He hailed, and inquired what schooner we were.

“The French schooner Concorde,” answered our captain, who knew that a vessel of that name had been out in the West Indies. For a short time the answer seemed to satisfy the Frenchmen; but seeing us approach still nearer, they hailed again, and told us to keep off.

Captain Savage did not deign a reply, but our grappling-irons being ready, our helm was put hard a starboard, we ran alongside the brig, and had her fast locked in a deadly embrace.

Although the Frenchmen’s suspicions had been aroused, they had made no preparations to receive us; yet as we ran her on board, we saw that there were numbers of people on her deck. “Follow me, my lads!” shouted Mr Le Gosselen, who saw that to secure an easy victory there was no time to be lost; and before any of the Frenchmen had time to stand to their arms, some fifty of us had sprung on their deck and attacked them, previously driving some overboard, others fore and aft, and the rest below. The greater number of our opponents seemed to be soldiers, by their dress and the way they fought. In vain their officers called to them to stand firm, and tried to rally them to the last; they themselves were pistolled or cut down, and in less than five minutes we were masters of the whole deck, with the exception of the after-part of the poop. Here a band of men stood firm, evidently surrounding a person of superior rank. He fought like a lion, and was likely to delay our victory, or to prevent it altogether. Seeing this, Captain Savage, who was himself the best swordsman I ever met, calling twenty of us to follow him, sprang on board over the quarter; and thus attacked in front and on one side, the French officers were driven across the deck. A blow from Captain Savage’s cutlass brought their chief on his knee. At that moment a piercing shriek arose high above the din of battle. How mournful! how full of agony it sounded! We had not before perceived a woman standing alone and unharmed among the wounded, the dead, and the dying, for not one of those who had opposed us had escaped.

“Spare my father’s life! hurt not more his grey hairs!” she cried out in French.

“That depends on circumstances, mademoiselle,” answered the captain of the privateer. “Here, my lads; carry the lady and the old man on board the schooner out of harm’s way; we must secure the brig before we think of anything else.”

I was one of those to whom the captain spoke. I shall never forget the grief and agony of the poor young lady as she bent over her father. He was desperately wounded. I saw that he could not speak; but he still breathed. We lifted him as gently as we could, and carried him aboard the schooner, into the captain’s cabin; we then assisted the young lady, who followed eagerly, not knowing where she was going. All her thoughts and feelings were concentrated on her father. We placed him on the sofa, and I then went and called the surgeon to attend him. Mr Blister’s knowledge of his profession was very slight, and his practical experience limited; but still he had some notion of binding up a wound, and, at all events, he would treat a patient more gently than any of the rough hands belonging to the schooner.

While what I have described was going on, the second officer, with a dozen men under him, had been directed to clew-up the brig’s sails, so as to let her drop as much as possible astern of the rest of the fleet, no others appearing to be following. This had been done; and we had hopes that the flash of the pistols had not been seen, or the reports heard by any of the vessels in advance.

Having obeyed the orders, I again went on board the brig. The deck was now entirely in our possession. While some of our people were silencing several of the French crew, who still madly held out below, I followed the captain into the cabin. While we had been fighting on deck, others of our crew had found their way there, and, mad with rage at the opposition they had encountered, had spared neither age nor sex. I cannot venture to describe the scene of horror and confusion. There were several ladies, and their attendants, and children—among them, infants in arms, or just able to lisp their parents’ names. Already they were in the power of my ruffian companions. Shrieks of despair, cries for mercy rose from among them. Tables and chairs, and furniture of all sorts, lay broken on the door. Several dead bodies lay at the entrance of the cabin—officers, as was shown by their uniform; another lay leaning against the bulkhead, gasping out his last breath. We had discovered enough to show us why our capture was so crowded with people. She was a merchantman, in which the governor of one of the islands, together with his staff and their families, had taken their passage, while a body of soldiers had likewise been put on board.

Captain Savage, to do him justice, when he found that the brig was completely in his power, did his best to rescue her unfortunate prisoners from further molestation, though in this he was but ill seconded by his officers. Rushing in among the men, he ordered them on deck, and to carry the dead bodies with them. One man refused to obey him.

“Mutiny!” he exclaimed. “This is the way I put it down.” He levelled his pistol, and shot the man dead. “Here, take this fellow and heave him overboard with the rest,” he added, as the body fell to the deck.

I with others obeyed, for all saw the stern justice of the proceeding. “My men,” he continued, “we must make sail away from her as fast as possible; for after what has occurred we can expect but little mercy should we fall into the hands of our enemies.”

By this proceeding the cabin was cleared, and the wretched inmates were left in solitude, to mourn over their cruel fate. The captain placed Lyal, and one or two of the more steady men, to guard the door. I accompanied him on deck. Among the crew and passengers in that fierce though short night-battle, more than half had fallen; and, contrary to what is usually the case, the greater number had been killed. The rest, many of whom were wounded, were collected forward, all of them with their hands lashed behind their backs. They, believing themselves to have been captured by pirates, fully expected to be put to death. Our crew, when not actually executing the commands of the officers, were engaged all the time in plundering. The ladies had been stripped of their jewels, the officers of their watches and money; and every corner of the ship was ransacked for plate and other valuables, while clothes and private property of all sorts were laid hold of and carried off; and the men, even in the midst of their pillage, amused themselves by putting on officers’ coats, silk waistcoats, and cocked-hats.

The captain now ordered the vessels to be separated. He, with the second mate and about forty men, remained in the brig, to commence the more serious work of examining the cargo; while the rest, greatly to their discontent, with about two-thirds of the male prisoners, were ordered aboard the schooner. The two vessels then made sail to the southward, on a course which would enable us, if we wished, to run down on the following night and pick out another prize.

The examination of our capture was proceeded with very rapidly, and found of great value. The governor was carrying home a large fortune, much of it in specie; and the brig being an old trader, and considered a fine vessel, many merchants had shipped money by her. The poor ladies were left in possession of the cabin, and the captain ordered what food could be found to be taken down to them, while he directed the second mate, who was rather kinder-hearted than the first, to take charge of her, and to carry her into Guernsey. All things being arranged, the captain, leaving a prize-crew aboard the brig, returned to the schooner, and I accompanied him. The surgeon met us as we stepped aboard. The captain asked for the old governor.

“Why, I suspect he will slip through our fingers. I have no power to keep him,” answered the surgeon.

“We must do what we can for the old man,” observed the captain, with more feeling than I thought he possessed. “For his daughter’s sake, I hope he won’t die. What can she do, left alone in the world? Williams, you seem to understand the sort of thing, go in and see what you can do.”

I obeyed the order gladly. I entered the cabin. Already was the poor girl left alone in the world. Her father’s corpse lay on the sofa, and she had fallen in a swoon across it.

I did not go and call the surgeon. I knew that he did not feel for her, and could not help her. So, lifting her gently up, I removed the corpse, which I covered with a flag, and placed her on the sofa instead. I then got water and sprinkled it on her face, and bathed her temples. The captain came in, and found me thus engaged.

“Where’s the old man?” he exclaimed, looking astonished.

I pointed to the flag. He lifted it up.

“What! dead!” he said. “Poor, poor thing!” I don’t know if at that moment the thought of the amount of misery of which we had been the cause flashed across his mind. It did across mine.

Often have I since thought, what an accursed trade is that of a privateer’s-man. Licensed pirates at best; and often, as they perform their work, no better than the worst of pirates.

“What’s to be done?” he continued, talking to himself. “I cannot stand the girl’s sorrow. We must get the body out of the way, at all events.”

He stopped, and shaded his eyes with his hand. He had a family at home. Among them a daughter—tall and graceful, like that poor girl. “Williams,” he said abruptly, “call the surgeon.”

When Blister came, he told him to ascertain if the old man were really dead. He stooped down, and lifting the flag, examined the body.

“Yes,” he answered, in a perfectly satisfied tone. “I said he would die. There’s no doubt about it.” I believe he would have been vexed had he recovered to contradict him.

“We must bury him, then,” said the captain. “We’ll do it decently. He was a fine old man, and fought like a lion. Send the sailmaker here.” The surgeon did as he was bid.

“Don’t let him touch the poor girl, Jack,” he said. “She is better as she is. She would never let us remove her father’s body, if she were conscious of what was going forward.”

The sailmaker came, and received orders to get a hammock with a shot at the feet, in which to enclose the old soldier’s corpse. Among the prisoners was a French priest. The captain sent for him; and he and a few officers who had escaped assembled on deck, the captain having explained to them that he wished to pay the last respect to a brave enemy. They, as Frenchmen know how to do, expressed themselves gratified at the compliment; and all stood around while the body was brought from below. Having been shown to them, it was secured in the hammock which had been prepared for the purpose. It was then placed on a plank at an open port, with the old soldier’s hat and sword. The priest offered up some of the prayers of his Church, and all stood with hats off in reverential awe.

The prayers were finished—the captain had lifted his hand, as a signal to launch the body into the deep, when at that moment the tall, graceful figure of a lady appeared on deck. She cast one wild, hurried, inquiring glance around. Her eye fell on the shrouded corpse as it glided into the deep. With a piercing shriek, which rung far over the waters, she cried, “Father, I follow you!” and before anyone could prevent her, she sprung over the schooner’s low bulwarks into the blue sea, within the first circles formed by her parent’s form, as it vanished from our sight. In an instant all present rushed to the side; the boats were lowered rapidly; but as we looked around, no sign did there appear of the unhappy young lady. Such was the result of our night’s exploit! “It is better, perhaps, that it was so,” said the captain, dashing a tear from his eye.

I cannot say that the catastrophe made any lasting impression even on him. It did not on me. That very night we stood again up to the convoy, and were successful in picking out another of them without being discovered. Both vessels reached Guernsey in safety, and turned out valuable prizes.

I cannot pretend to give even an outline of all the adventures I met with while serving on board the privateer. From her fast-sailing qualities, and the daring and talent of her commander, she was very successful. We were constantly on the look-out for single merchantmen; and, unless they were strongly armed, they were nearly certain to become our prey. We never attacked an armed vessel if we could help it, and never fought if we could escape an enemy capable of injuring us. Now and then, when we thought that we were going to make prize of a rich merchantman, we found that we had caught a Tartar, and had to up stick and run for it. Twice we were very nearly caught; and should have been, had not night come to our aid, and enabled us to haul our wind without being seen, and thus get out of our pursuer’s way.

Once, flight was impossible, and we found ourselves brought to action in the chops of the Channel by a French sloop-of-war of eighteen guns. Captain Savage, however, gave evidence of his skill and courage by the way he handled the schooner against so superior a force. By making several rapid tacks, we got the weather-gauge of our opponent; and then, after the exchange of several broadsides, we stood across his bows, when we delivered so well-directed a raking-fire that we brought his topmast down by the run. We had not escaped without the loss of several men, besides getting an ugly wound in our mainmast; so, to avoid any further disaster, and being perfectly content with the glory of having crippled an opponent of force so superior, we hauled our wind and stood up Channel. The Frenchman was afterwards fallen in with, and captured by a corvette of her own size.

I have, I think, sufficiently described the occupation of a privateer. What I might have become, under the instruction of my old friend Peter, and the strict discipline of a man-of-war, I know not. On board the privateer, with the constant influence of bad example, I was becoming worse and worse, and more the slave of all the evil ways of the world. After serving on board the schooner for more than three years, I was paid off with my pocket full of prize-money, and, shipping on board a trader, I found my way to Liverpool.

That port then, as now, afforded every facility to a seaman to get rid of his hard-earned gains. In a few weeks I had but a few shillings left. I had not the satisfaction of feeling that I had done any good with it. How it all went I don’t know. I believe that I was robbed of a large portion. I was so disgusted with my folly, that I was ready to engage in any enterprise, of however questionable a character, where I had the prospect of gaining more, which I resolved I would spend more discreetly.

Liverpool at that time fitted out a number of slavers—the slave-trade, which was afterwards prohibited, being then lawful, and having many respectable people engaged in it. Hearing from a shipmate that the Royal Oak, a ship of eighteen guns, with a letter-of-marque commission, was fitting out for the coast of Africa, and was in want of hands, I went and entered on board her. She carried, all told, eighty hands. I found two or three old shipmates aboard her, but no one whom I could call a friend.

We reached the coast without any adventure, and in those days the slaves who had come down from the interior being collected in depÔts, ready for shipment, we soon got our cargo on board. For several years I remained in this trade, sometimes carrying our cargo of hapless beings to Rio de Janeiro or other parts of the Brazils, and sometimes to the West Indies. It never occurred to me that there was anything wrong in the system. All the lessons I had received in the West Indies, in my early days, were thrown away. The pay was good; the work not hard, though pretty frequently we lost our people by fever; and so I thought no more about the matter.

At length I found my way back to Liverpool, just as the battle of Waterloo and Napoleon’s abdication brought the blessings of peace to Europe.

Away, away the good ship flew to round the far-famed Cape Horn. Stern and majestic it rose on our starboard-hand; its hoary front, as it looked down on the meeting of two mighty oceans, bore traces of many a terrific storm. Now all was calm and bright, though the vast undulations of the ocean over which the ship rode, as they met the resistance of the cliffs, were dashed in cataracts of spray high up in the air, and gave evidence of what would be the effect when a storm was raging across them. There was something more grand in the contemplation than in the actual appearance of the scene, when we reflected where we were—on the confines of those two great seas which encompass the earth, and which wash the shores of nations so different in character—the one having attained the height of civilisation, the other being still sunk in the depths of a barbarism too terrible almost for contemplation, as I afterwards had good reason to know. Then there was that strange, vast, dreamy swell—the breathings, as it were, of some giant monster. It seemed as if some wondrous force were ever acting on that vast body of water—that it could not for a moment rest quiet in its bed, but must ever go heaving on, in calm and sunshine as well as in storm and tempest. There was likewise in sight that wild weather-beaten shore, inhabited, as report declared, by men of gigantic stature and untameable fierceness; while to the south lay those mysterious frost-bound regions untrod by the foot of man—the land of vast glaciers, mighty icebergs, and wide extended fields of ice. On we sped with a favouring breeze, till we floated calmly on the smooth surface of the Pacific off the coast of Chili.

With regard to Patagonia, old Knowles told me he had been there, but that, as far as he saw, the people were not much larger than the inhabitants of many other countries. Some were big men; a few nearly seven feet high, and proportionably stout. They are capital mimics—the very parrots or magpies of the genus Man.

“I say, Jack, bear a hand there now,” exclaimed one, repeating the words after a sailor who had just spoken.

“What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,” said Knowles, thinking he had found a civilised man in that distant region.

“What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,” repeated the savage with a grin, putting out his hand.

“I should think I did! What other lingo am I likely to speak?” answered Knowles, shaking the Patagonian’s huge paw.

“What other lingo am I likely to speak?” said the savage, with perfect clearness.

“Why, I should have thought your own native Patagonian, if you are a Patagonian,” exclaimed Knowles, examining the savage’s not over-handsome physiognomy.

“If you are a Patagonian!” said the savage, looking in like manner into Knowles’ face.

“I—I’m an Englishman, I tell you!” cried Tom, somewhat puzzled.

“I’m an Englishman, I tell you!” cried the Patagonian in the same indignant tone.

“That’s just what I want to arrive at,” said Tom. “So now just tell me where we can get some good baccy and a glass of honest grog.”

The Patagonian repeated the words.

“But I ask you!” said Tom.

“But I ask you!” said the savage.

“I tell you I’m a stranger here!” exclaimed Tom.

“I tell you I’m a stranger here!” cried the savage.

“Where do you come from then?” asked Tom.

“Where do you come from then?” repeated the savage.

“I tell you I’m an Englishman,” cried Knowles, getting angry.

“I tell you I’m an Englishman!” exclaimed the Patagonian in the same indignant tones.

“That’s more than I’ll believe; and, to speak my mind plainly, I believe that you are an arrant, bamboozling hum-bug!” cried Tom. “No offence, though. You understand me?”

Whether it was Tom’s expression of countenance, or the tone of his voice, I know not, but as he uttered these words, all the savages burst into loud fits of merry laughter; and as he thought they were laughing at him, he said that he should have liked to have gone in among them, and knocked them down right and left with his fists; but they were such precious big fellows, that he thought he should have got the worst of it in the scrimmage.

He used with infinite gusto frequently to tell the story for our amusement.

I am not quite certain, however, whether he was describing the Patagonians or the inhabitants of Terra del Fuego. The latter are very great mimics and are much smaller in size, less clothed, and more savage in appearance than the Patagonians.

We touched at Valparaiso, in Chili, or, as it may be called, the Vale of Paradise. It is certainly by nature a very beautiful and healthy spot, built on a number of high hills with ravines intervening; but man, by his evil practices and crimes, made it, when I was there, much more like the Vale of Pandemonium. Drunkenness and all sorts of crimes were common, and the cuchillo—the long knife—was in constant requisition among the Spaniards, scarcely a night passing without one or more murders being committed. It was then little more than a village, but has now become quite a large town, with a number of English and American merchants settled there. The houses are built with very thick walls, to withstand the constant attacks of earthquakes which they have to undergo. Having supplied ourselves with fresh provisions and water, we sailed, and stretched away into the wide Pacific.

We had left the coast of Chili about a day’s sail astern. A light easterly breeze was just ruffling the blue sea—the noon-day sun shining brightly over it—the hands going listlessly about their work, rather out of spirits at our want of success, not a whale having hitherto been seen—when the cheery shout of the first mate reached our ears from the look-out, of “There she spouts! there she spouts, boys!”

In an instant every one was aroused into the fullest activity—the watch below sprung on deck—Captain Carr hurried from his cabin, and with his hand to his mouth, shouted eagerly, “Where away?—where away?”

“About a mile on the starboard-bow,” cried Mr Benson, the first mate, in return.

“Lower the boats, my lads!” exclaimed the captain, preparing to go in the leading one himself; the first and third mate and the boatswain went in command of the others. Both Newman and I, as new hands, remained on board, as did the second mate, to take charge of the ship.

Before the boats were in the water, the whale had ceased spouting; but just as they were shoving off, the look-out broke forth in a cheerful chorus, “There again—there again—there again!” the signal that the whale was once more sending up its spout of spray into the air. The words were taken up by all on deck, while we pointed with excited looks at the whale, whose vast head and hump could be clearly distinguished as he swam, unsuspicious of evil, through the calm waters of the deep. Away flew the boats, urged on by rapid strokes, in hot pursuit. The captain took the lead. We who were left behind felt that we were accompanying them in heart and spirit. The foam bubbled and hissed round the bows of the boats as they clove their way through the water. Not a moment was there to lose—the distance was great—the whale had been for some time breathing, and might go down, and perhaps be lost altogether, before the boats could get up to her, or they might have to chase her for many miles before they could again reach her. Meantime, the wind being fair, the ship was kept almost in the wake of the boats. Away they flew; each was anxious to strike the first whale, but the captain’s took the lead, and maintained it. As they got nearer the monster, it was necessary to be careful, lest he should take the alarm, and, seeing his pursuers, go down to escape them. The men bent to their oars even more energetically than before; the captain stood up, harpoon in hand; his weapon was raised on high; we thought that the next instant it would be buried in the monster, when up went his small—the enormous flukes rose high in air—“Back of all!—back of all!” we cried; not that our voices could be heard. If not, that terrific stroke it is giving will shiver the boat in atoms. The boat glided out of the way, but just in time, though her crew were drenched with spray. Down went the whale—far, far into the depths of the ocean.

Nothing is to be had without trying for it—our captain knew this well. All eyes were now turned to watch where the whale would next rise, for rise, we knew, he before long must, and in all probability within sight; so the boats paddled slowly on, the men reserving their strength for the moment when it would be required; while we on board shortened sail, that we might have the ship more under command, to follow wherever they might lead. Every one was watching with intense eagerness; the four boats were separated a short distance from each other; now and then the officers would stand up to see if the monster had risen, and then they would turn their gaze towards the ship for a signal from the look-out aboard. Still the time passed away, and no whale appeared.

An hour had elapsed, when again the inspiriting shout was heard of “There she spouts! there she spouts!” the look-outs pointing, as before, over the starboard-bow, where the whale had again risen, not much more than a mile away from the boats. Again they were in rapid movement. We doubted not that this time they would reach the monster. Through our glasses we made him out to be a bull—an old greyhead, and probably a cunning fellow, one likely to try every dodge which a whale can think of to escape, and if failing to do that, and hard pressed, one who was likely to turn on his pursuers, and attack them with his open jaws or mighty flukes.

“Well, whatever freak he takes, our captain is the man to meet him,” observed old Tom Knowles—a long-experienced hand in the South-Seas, but who, having hurt his arm, was unable to go in the boats. “As long as daylight lasts, he’ll not give up the chase.”

I had thought that when a whale was seen, it was merely necessary to pull after him, dig the harpoons into him, and allow him to drag the boats along till he died; but I found it was often a far more difficult task than this to kill a whale.

“There again—there again!” shouted the look-outs from aloft; and the cry was repeated by all on deck, while the whale continued spouting. Fast as at first, if not faster, the boats flew after him—the captain’s again leading.

“This time we’ll have him, surely,” exclaimed Newman, who was as eager as any of us.

“Not quite so sure of that, Ned,” observed old Knowles. “I’ve seen one of these old chaps go down half-a-dozen times before a harpoon was struck in him, and, after all, with three or four in his side, break away, and carry them off just as the sun was setting, and there was no chance of getting another sight of him. I say, never be certain that you’ve got him, till he’s safe in the casks. I’ve seen one, after he has been killed, go down like a shot, for no reason that anyone on board could tell, except to spite us for having caught him.”

While old Tom was speaking, the boats had approached close to the whale. For my own part, after what I had heard, I fully expected to see him lift his flukes, and go down as he had done before. The captain’s boat was up to him—the rest hung back, not to run the risk of alarming the wary monster. The captain stood up in the bows—a fine bold figure he looked, as he poised his glittering harpoon in his right hand, high above his head. “There!—peak your oars,” cried old Tom, as the crew raised them with a flourish to a perpendicular position, having given the boat sufficient impetus to take her alongside the whale. Off flew the weapon, impelled by the captain’s unerring arm, and buried itself up to the socket in the fat coating with which the leviathan was clothed.

“It’s socket up!” cried old Knowles. “Hurrah, lads—hurrah! our first whale’s struck—good-luck, good-luck—hurrah, hurrah!” The cheer was taken up by all on board, as well as by those in the boats. They now gave way with a will after the whale; the harpooner, as another boat got up, sending his weapon into its side.

But it is no child’s play now. The captain had time to dart a lance into him, when, “Stern all—stern all!” was now the cry of the headsman; and the crews, with their utmost strength, backed the boats out of the way of the infuriated animal, which in his agony began to lash the water with his huge flukes, and strike out in every direction with a force which would have shattered to atoms any boat they met. Now his vast head rose completely out of the water—now his tail, as he writhed with the pain the weapons had inflicted. The whole surface of the surrounding ocean was lashed into foam by the reiterated strokes of those mighty flukes, while the boats were deluged with the spray he threw aloft—the sound of the blows reverberating far away across the water. The boat-steerer now stood ready to let the lines run through the loggerhead over the bows of the boat. Should anyone be seized by their coils as they are running out, his death would be certain. Soon finding the hopelessness of contending with his enemies above water, the whale lifted his flukes and sounded.

Down, down he went into the depths of the ocean. Away flew the line over the bows of the boat. Its rapid motion would have set fire to the wood, had not the headsman kept pouring water over it, as it passed through its groove.

An oar was held up from the captain’s boat: it was a sign that nearly the whole of their line, of two hundred fathoms, had run out. With caution, and yet rapidity, the first mate in the second boat bent on his line; soon the captain’s came to an end, and then that flew out as rapidly as the first had done. To assist in stopping the whale’s downward course, drogues were now bent on to the line as it ran out; but they appeared to have little more effect in impeding his progress than a log-ship has in stopping the way of a vessel; and yet they have, in reality, much more, as every pound-weight in addition tells on the back of a racer.

Again an oar went up, and the third boat bent on, adding more drogues to stop his way. They at length appeared to have effect. “There; haul in the slack,” cried old Tom. “He’s rising, lads; he’s rising!”

The boat-steerer was seen in the last boat busily coiling away the line in the tub as he hauled it in. When he had got all his line, that belonging to the next boat was in like manner coiled away; then the captain’s line was hauled in.

Thick bubbles now rose in rapid succession to the surface, followed by a commotion of the water, and the huge head of the monster rushed suddenly upward, sending forth a dense spout on high. The captain’s boat was now hauled gently on, the boat-steerer guiding it close up to the fin of the wounded whale. Again Captain Carr stood up with his long lance in hand, and plunged it, as few on board could have done, deep into his side. At the same moment the rest of the boats pulled up on the opposite side, the harpooner in the leading one striking his harpoon into him. Again the cry arose of “Stern all—stern all!” It was time, indeed, to get out of the way, for the whale seemed to feel that he was engaged in his last struggles for freedom and for life. He threw himself with all his monstrous bulk completely out of the water, in a vain attempt to get loose from his foes. Off from him all the boats backed.

He now became the assailant. He rushed at them with his head and lower jaw let drop, seemingly capable of devouring one of them entire. I almost thought he would; but he was already fatigued with his wounds and previous exertions. The line, too, of the mate’s boat had many times encircled his body. Suddenly it parts! The boat of the captain, after he had darted his lance, was backed in time, and got clear from the whale’s attack, but the first mate was not so fortunate. The whale seemed to have singled him out as the victim of his revenge. Having in vain lashed at him with his flukes, he turned towards him with his head, rushing on with terrific force. He caught the boat as she was retreating, in an instant capsizing her, and sending all her crew struggling in the waves. I thought he would immediately have destroyed them; but he swam on, they happily escaping the blows of his flukes, and went head out across the ocean, followed by the first boat and the two others.

Were they going to allow our shipmates to perish unaided? I thought and fully expected to hear the second mate order another boat to be lowered to go to their assistance. But they did not require any. Two of the men could not swim, but the others supported them till they got them up to the boat, from which they had been a little way separated, and then by pressing down the gunwale they quickly righted her. They then, holding on on either side, baled away till they could get into her, and still have her gunwale above water, when they very quickly freed her altogether. Everything had been secured in the boat, so that nothing was lost; and as soon as she was to right, off she started again in the chase.

Away flew the captain’s boat, dragged on by the line, at the rate, it seemed, of full ten knots an hour. The other boats followed as fast as their crews could lay their backs to the oars; but for a long time they could gain nothing on him, but were fast falling astern. We had again filled, and were standing on. At last he began to slacken his pace. The loss of blood from his many wounds, and his evident exertions, were rapidly weakening him. Still, so far-off had he gone, that the captain’s boat was scarce to be seen, and the others were mere specks on the ocean.

Once again, however, we were overtaking them. The captain was once more hauling in the slack—the other boats were getting up—the headsmen standing, harpoon in hand, ready to give the whale fresh and still more deadly wounds. They ranged up alongside, and harpoons and lances flew from the boats. The monster no longer threw up water alone, but blood was sent in a thick spout from his blow-hole, sprinkling the men in the boats, and staining the bright blue sea around. Still, in spite of all his foes, he struggled on bravely for life. Lashing the water, so as to drive his relentless assailants to a distance, he once more lifted his flukes and sounded; but they were prepared to let the lines run. Down he went again.

“He’ll be lost—he’ll be lost!” I exclaimed, as did others not accustomed to the work.

“Not a bit of it on that account,” said old Knowles. “He can’t remain long under water after what he’s gone through. He’ll be up again soon; and then stand by, my hearties, for his flurry!”

Old Knowles was right. Up came the whale again, at a short distance only from where he had gone down, having dragged out from each boat not a hundred fathoms of line. Once more the boats approached, and fresh lances were darted into him; but they quickly had to retreat, for now his head went up, now his tail; now he sprung again right out of the water, twisting and turning in every direction.

“He has his death-pang on him,” cried Old Knowles. “He’ll be ours before long;—but, ah! one of them has caught it!”

One of the boats had indeed caught it. We could not tell which, for the others were covered with the foam and ensanguined water cast on every side by the monster in his wild contortions. The fragments lay floating, scattered far and wide, and several men were seen striking out towards the other boats, half-turning their heads, as if in expectation of being pursued. But, as we counted their number, they did not appear to be all there. There were but five. One, we feared, was missing. Anxiously we kept our eyes fixed on the spot, hoping to see our shipmate, whoever he might be, appear.

“Hurrah!—he’s there—he’s there!” we shouted, as we discovered the sixth man swimming out from among the mass of bloody foam which surrounded the whale, who for an instant seemed to be resting from his exertions. While the boats were taking them on board, again the whale darted rapidly out, but this time it was to perform the segment of a circle.

“He’s in his flurry, lads—he’s in his flurry!” shouted old Knowles. “He’ll be dead in another minute.”

“Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history,” said Newman, who through his glass had been eagerly watching the chase. As the words went out of his mouth the whale rolled over on his side, a well-won prize, and loud shouts from the crews of the boats and from all on deck rent the air.

The fragments of the shattered boat being collected, and the three remaining ones made fast to the whale, they began towing it towards the ship, while we made sail to meet them.

All hands were employed for an instant in congratulating each other when we got the whale alongside, and then every means were taken to secure it for “cutting-in”—so the operation of taking off the blubber is called. The coopers had meantime been getting ready the large caldrons for boiling the blubber; which operation is called “trying-out.” A rope passed round the windlass, and rove through a block fast to the head of the mainmast, was carried over the side, with a large hook at the end of it. The first thing done was to cut off the head of the whale, which, with the neck-part up, was strongly secured, and floated astern.

“That head has got better than a ton of oil in it,” observed old Knowles, who was aiding the work. “It’s worth no end of money.”

“Wears yet a precious jewel in his crown,” observed Newman, leaning eagerly over the side. “It’s fine work this, though.”

A stage had been let down at the side of the vessel, on which those who had cut off the head were stationed. One of them now made a hole in the blubber with the instrument used for cutting-in, called a spade. A rope was then fastened round the waist of another man, and he descended on the body of the whale, taking the hook I have spoken of in his hand. This hook he fastened into the hole he had cut. The operation now began.

Some with spades cut the blubber or fat mass which surrounds the body into a strip between two and three feet wide, in a spiral form, while others hoisted away on the tackle to which the hook was attached. Slowly the blanket-piece, thus cut off, ascended over the side, the body turning round and round as its coat or bandage, for so we may call it, was unwound. By the side of the pots were horses—blocks of wood—on which the blubber was cut up. As the long strip was drawn up, another hook was secured lower down, and the upper part of the blanket-piece was cut off and chopped into thin pieces on the blocks. The pieces were then thrown into big pots, under which fires were kindled. After the first caldrons-full had been boiled, the lumps of blubber from which the oil had been extracted were taken out, and served as fuel to continue our fires. In reality, the whole operation was performed in a very cleanly and orderly way; but a stranger at a distance would scarcely think so.

Night overtook us while we were engaged in the work, and watch and watch we continued it, lest a gale might spring up and compel us to abandon our prize before it was all secured. No scene could be wilder or more unearthly than that presented during the night by the whaler’s decks. The lurid fires surrounding the seething caldrons cast a red glare on all around—on the masts and rigging of the ship, enveloped in the dense wreaths of smoke which ascended from them—on the sturdy forms of the seamen, with their muscular arms bared to the shoulder. Some were cutting off huge blanket-pieces; others chopping them small on the horses; others throwing them into the pots, or with long poles stirring the boiling fluid, or raking out the scraps, as the refuse is called, to feed the flames; while others, again, were drawing off the oil into the casks ready to receive it, and stowing them away in the hold.

The whole of the following day and the following night found us employed in a similar manner. At last the whole carcass was stripped to the very flukes of every particle of blubber, and, to our no little satisfaction, cast loose to float away, and to become a feast for the fish of the sea and the birds of the air. The head, full of the valuable spermaceti, was now floated alongside. A bucket was then forced down through the neck; by means of a long pole, into the case, till, by repeated dips, it was entirely emptied of its contents; and, as Knowles predicted, the case was found to contain even more than a ton of oil. The spermaceti was carefully boiled by itself—an operation necessary to preserve it. The blubber surrounding the head was also taken off and boiled down, and the empty skull was then cast loose, and sunk, by its own weight, with rapidity to the bottom—there, perhaps, to form the caverned abode of some marine monster never yet seen by human eye. It took us nearly three days to cut-in, try-out, and stow away that huge whale, the produce altogether being no less than eighty-five barrels! We broke forth into loud shouts when our work was accomplished and our first fish stowed away.

I have no great sympathy with those who talk of the cruelty of the work. A whale feels acutely, no doubt, and so does a mouse or a sparrow, when wounded; but not having huge bodies to twist and turn about in their agony, they do not appear to suffer so much as does the mighty monarch of the deep. I suspect that the amount of pain felt by the small animal is equally great with that felt by the large one. However, I would make my argument a plea for merciful treatment of all alike, and urge that pain should never be unnecessarily inflicted on even the smallest of created beings in whose nostrils is the breath of life.

Our success put us all in spirits, and we were ready to do or to dare anything. Our captain had heard that sperm whales were to be found in the icy seas towards the Antarctic Pole, and, accordingly, before keeping across to New Zealand and the isles of the Indian Ocean, he resolved to take a cruise to the south for a few weeks in order to try our fortune. Over the seas on which we were sailing it was necessary, both night and day, to keep a very sharp look-out; not only for whales, but to avoid the dangers of coral-reefs, and islands of all sizes, which in many parts sprinkle it so thickly.

“Land ahead!” was shouted from the foretopmast-head one forenoon, as we were slowly gliding over the blue surface of the deep. As we got up with it, we saw that it was a long, low, almost barren island, a few trees only in the higher parts retrieving it from actual sterility. It was a wild, desolate, melancholy-looking spot, such as would make a man shudder at the very thought of being wrecked on it. At one end, inside a reef over which the surf was breaking violently, lay a dark object. As the officers were inspecting it through their glasses, they pronounced it to be a wreck. There could be no doubt about it, and Captain Carr resolved at once to visit the spot, to discover whether any of the crew still remained alive.

As we stood on, a loud sound of roaring and yelping reached our ears, and we saw on many of the rocks which surrounded the island a vast number of seals, of the sort called “sea-lions.” Newman and several of us were eager to get in among them, to knock some of them on the head, that we might make ourselves caps and jackets for our cruise in the icy seas. The captain was equally anxious to get some seal-skins, and he told us that, after we had visited the wreck, and explored the island, we should try and catch some of the animals.

Seals are curious-looking creatures. The head, with its large mild eyes, and snout, and whiskers, looks like that of some good-natured, intelligent dog; and one expects, as they are swimming, to see four legs and a thin curly tail come out of the water. Instead of that, the body narrows away till there is seen a tail like that of a fish. The hind-feet are like those of a duck when in the water, and the front ones have, beyond the skin, only a flapper or paw with claws, at the end of it. They are covered with thick, glossy hair, closely set against the skin. The form of their jaws and teeth proves that they are carnivorous, and they are known to live on fish, crabs, and sea-birds. The birds they catch in the water, as they can swim with great rapidity and ease. They can remain also for a considerable time under the water, without coming to the surface to breathe.

The sea-lion, which was the species of seal we were hoping to attack, grows to the length of ten feet. The colour is of a yellowish-brown, and the males have a large mane, which covers their neck and shoulders, so that they have very much the appearance of lions when their upper part alone is seen above the water. Such were the monsters which seemed to be guarding the island towards which we were pulling, their roar vying in loudness with the hoarse sound of the surf as it beat on the rock-bound shore.

Newman and I were in the captain’s boat. As we pulled in for the land, we saw that the surf rolled up on every side, and for some time we could not discover a clear spot through which we might urge the boats. We continued pulling on for half a mile or more, and caught sight of what appeared to be a channel between the reefs. The captain ordered us to give way, and bending to our oars, we pulled on with a will. A sailor loves a run on shore, even though that shore may be but a barren sand; but here we had two objects to excite our interest. The deserted wreck claimed our first attention. It was easy to see how she had got into her present position. An unusually high-tide and heavy gale must have lifted her over the reef, and driven her on shore; and the wind falling before she had time to go to pieces, must have left her comparatively safe from further injury. The captain stood up in his boat to watch for an opportunity to enter the passage.

“Now, again, my lads, give way!” he shouted. The boat lifted on the summit of a roller, and rushing on with the dark rocks and hissing foam on either side of us, in another instant we found ourselves calmly floating in a reef-surrounded lagoon or bay. We had to pull back for some distance to get to the wreck, and as we advanced, we looked along the shore to discover, if we could, traces of any of the crew. All, however, was silent and desolate.

From the appearance of the island, Newman observed that he thought it must be the crater of an extinct volcano, and that even the lapse of ages had allowed scarcely soil enough to collect on it, to permit of more than the scanty vegetation which was visible.

As we approached the wreck, we found that she had gone stem on into the mouth of a little creek, and there had been held fast by two rocks. Her build at once made us suspect that she was a whaler like ourselves. All her boats and bulwarks were gone, and her stern was much stove in. Her main and mizzen-masts had been carried away, so had her foretopmast and the head of the foremast below the top, the stump only remaining. On this a yard still hung across, and the tattered fragment of a sail, showing us that she had run stem on into her present position. As her stern could be approached by water which was quite smooth, we ran the boats under it, and climbed on board. The sea had made a clean breach through the stern, and inundated the cabin, which presented a scene of ruin and desolation. The bulkheads had been knocked away; the contents of the sideboard, and sleeping-places, and lockers, all lay scattered about, shattered into fragments, in the wildest confusion, among sand, and slimy sea-weed, and shells, which thickly coated the whole of the lower part of the cabin; while the hold itself, between which and the cabin all the partitions had been knocked away, was full of water. No living being remained on board to tell us how the catastrophe had occurred. On going forward, we found that the rocks between which she was jammed were separated from the shore, and that without a boat it would have been difficult to get aboard. After the captain had examined the wreck, he gave it as his opinion that she had been there three or four years, if not longer. One thing appeared certain, that she could not have got where she was without people on board to steer her; and then the question arose, what had become of them?

If any of them were still alive on the shore, they must long ago have seen the ship, and would have been waiting to receive us. The captain thought that they might have possibly been taken off by another ship soon after the wreck; still he resolved not to return without having searched thoroughly for them. We pulled round astern of the wreck, and there, in a sort of natural dock, found an easy landing-place.

As we walked across the island, we found that some of the lower spots, the dells and valleys, produced a greater amount of vegetation than had appeared at a distance; but could not retrieve the character of desolation given by the black, barren hills, and dark abrupt cliffs which arose on every side. We had given up all expectation of finding anyone alive, or any signs of the spot ever having been inhabited, when we heard a cry from Newman, who had wandered a little on one side.

We found him standing on a green hillock, raised a little above the valley, whence on one side a wide view over the blue sparkling sea could be obtained, with some shrubs of semi-tropical luxuriance, and the bright yellow sands forming the foreground, while behind arose the dark frowning cliffs and hills I have described. On the top of the hillock were four mounds, side by side, and at one end of each was seen a rough, flat piece of wood, a rude substitute for a grave-stone. There were names on them of Englishmen, and dates showing that they had died at intervals of a month or two from one another.

Where were the survivors?—who had buried these men? was now the question. A group of cocoa-nut trees, all that were on the island, marked the spot. It was one selected with much taste. The discovery induced us to persevere in our search. We wandered on for another hour, turning in every direction; for so full of undulations was the island, that we might easily have passed the very spot we were in search of. At last we were again called together by a shout from Newman.

We found him standing before a rude hut erected in front of a cave, which formed, indeed, a back apartment to it. There was only one rough bed-place on one side of it, though there were several stools, and a table in the centre. A seaman’s chest stood open, and contained a few articles of clothing. There were two muskets, and some powder-flasks hung up against the wall; but there was no food, although an iron pot and a saucepan, with a place where a fire had been made, showed that provisions had at one time been cooked there. On a shelf there were several books, both in English and in foreign languages, and above them was a flute with a music-book. A few carpenter’s tools were arranged on another shelf. Several things showed that the place had last been inhabited by a person of superior education. On opening the books, a name was found in several of them. It was that of William Evans. Two of them Newman discovered to be on medical subjects, which of course made us conjecture that they had belonged to the surgeon of the ship. The decayed state of the books showed that it was long since they had been opened, and on a further examination of the hut, it also was found to be in a very dilapidated condition. From the number of things left in the hut, Captain Carr surmised that the last occupants must have left the place very suddenly, if, indeed, they had left it at all. One thing was certain, that we were not likely to find any of them on the island.

We were, therefore, on our return to the boats, when I saw the figure of a man sitting, with his back to a rock, on a gentle slope, whence a view could be obtained of the blue ocean. I had separated a little from my companions. I called to him, and I thought I heard him answer, “Halloa, who calls?” His face was turned away from me, and he did not move. I called again, and at that moment Newman broke through the brushwood, and joined me. Together we climbed the hill, both equally surprised that the man we saw did not get up to meet us. In another minute we were by his side. The straw-hat, stained and in tatters, covered a skull; the clothes, decayed and discoloured, hung loosely on a fleshless skeleton. A book was by his side. It was a copy of a Latin poet—Horace, Newman told me. Before him was another book of manuscript; and, as we looked about, we picked up the remains of pencil, which had dropped from the dead man’s fingers. Newman opened the manuscript, and though it was rotten, and the characters much defaced, he could still decipher them. He glanced his eye rapidly over them.

“Ah! poor fellow, his appears to have been a sad fate,” he remarked, with a voice full of sadness. “Compelled by a strong necessity to leave England—to wrench asunder all the ties which held him there, and embark on board a South-sea-man as surgeon—he seems to have had a hard life of it with a drunken, brutal captain, and ignorant—not a human being with whom he could sympathise. Unable to return home, after three years’ service he exchanged into another ship. His master and officers, with all the boats, were away in chase of whales, which had appeared about them in great numbers, when a gale arose. The crew, already too much weakened by that scourge of the ocean, the scurvy, and the loss of several men, were unable to shorten sail. The boats were far out of sight, as they believed, to windward. In vain they endeavoured to beat up to them. The main and mizzen-masts went by the board; and the gale still further increasing, they were compelled to run before it, without a prospect of picking up their shipmates in the boats.

“Away they drove for several days before the wind, till one night all who were below were thrown out of their berths by a violent concussion. Again and again the ship struck—the sea beat in her stern. They rushed on deck. It was to find nearly all those who had been there washed away. The next instant, the ship again lifting, was carried into smooth water, and finally jammed fast in the position we had found her.

“Five only of all the crew then survived, and they were the most sickly. The writer was himself suffering from illness; happily, however, he bore up against it. They collected all the provisions, and all articles likely to be useful, which the sea had not destroyed, and carried them on shore, which they easily reached by means of a raft.

“They had food enough to last them for some time; but they had but a scanty supply of water. In vain they searched through the island—no springs were to be found. With great labour they got up all the casks of water still uninjured from the hold, and resolved to husband the contents. They formed themselves a habitation. They made reservoirs in which to catch the rain when it fell; but, in those latitudes, for many weeks together no rain falls. For a time, with their fire-arms, they killed a few birds; but their ammunition failed them, and they could kill no more. Their water was at last expended, and for many weeks together the only moisture they could obtain was by chewing the leaves of the shrubs and grass they found. They continued, as at first, very weak. They talked of building a boat from the wreck, but had neither strength nor knowledge among them sufficient for the undertaking.

“At last their spirits gave way, and disease made fearful progress with them all. One by one they died, and the survivors buried them. The writer of the sad journal was alone left.” Alas! not a word did he say about seeking consolation where alone it can be given—not a thought about another world and judgment to come. The writer seemed to pride himself on his heathen stoicism—heathen expressions of resignation were alone mentioned. His dying eyes had rested on the pages of Horace—his dying thoughts, were they heavenward?

“In vain had he crawled to the spot where we found him, day after day, in the faint hopes of seeing a ship to bear him away. Three long years had thus passed, and all the food that had been brought on shore had been consumed; and he had not strength to search for more, so he came up there and sat himself down, and his spirit passed away.”

Mr Newman had read this rapid sketch of the last events in the life of this unhappy exile before the captain came up, when he handed him the journal. The captain desired Newman to keep the “Horace,” observing that he could not himself understand the contents.

We had found some tools in the hut, with which we dug a shallow grave close to where we had found these sad remains of mortality, and in it we placed them. On the rock above we cut the name of William Evans, and the date of the day on which we found him dead. Loading ourselves with the articles found in the hut, Newman being allowed to take most of the books as his share, we returned to the boats.

Although a longer time had been spent on shore than the captain intended, he allowed us to endeavour to capture some of the sea-lions. After pulling, however, some way along the lagoon, we discovered that they could not be approached from the land-side, as they had taken up their quarters on some high rocks, almost islands by themselves, in advance of the reefs. We were, therefore, compelled to pass into the open sea before attacking them—the passage by which we entered; and, waiting an opportunity, we dashed through in safety.

As we approached the largest rock, it was curious to watch the hundreds, or, I may say, thousands of fierce-looking monsters which covered its slippery surface. It would have required bold men, not acquainted with their habits, to attack them, as they looked down upon us from their seemingly unapproachable fortress. On one side, the surf broke far too fiercely to allow the boats to venture near; but on the other, although there was a good deal of surf, Captain Carr told us we might land. The only way, however, to get on shore was to pull in on the summit of a breaker; and while those in the bow leaped out on the rock, the rest of the crew had to pull back the boat again with all their force into smooth water. We were armed for the attack with two or three harpoons, a lance, and the boat’s stretchers.

“Stand by, my lads—now’s the time!” shouted our captain, as the two boats rolled in towards the shore. He led the way, lance in hand; Newman and I and old Knowles following from his boat. Our sudden appearance on the confines of their fortress evidently not a little astonished the sea-lions. Opening wide their jaws, and gnashing with their formidable tusks, they glanced at us from the heights above, and then, with reiterated and terrific roars, began to descend with impetuous force, as if with their overwhelming numbers to drive us into the sea. An old sea-lion led the van—a fierce monster, who looked capable of competing with all of us together. So he might, if he had possessed legs instead of fins or flappers, the latter only enabling him to twist and turn and slide down the inclined plane on which we stood into the sea. On the beasts came in dense masses, roaring and snarling. I certainly did look for a moment at the boats, and wish myself safe back again in them; but it was only for a moment, for our antagonists demanded all our strength and agility to compete with them. Our captain advanced boldly towards the old leader, and as he came right at him, plunged his lance into his side. It had not the effect of stopping the beast in his career; but, instead, very nearly carried him and the lance into the water. Old Knowles was, I thought, very inadequately armed only with a thick stick, which he always carried on shore with him, curiously cut and carved, and fastened to his wrist by a lanyard.

“Let me alone,” said he; “Old Trusty is better in a scrimmage, whether with man or beast, than all your fire-arms and steel weapons. He always goes off, and never gets blunt.”

Newman and I were armed with harpoons. Newman, following the captain’s example, plunged his harpoon into the side of a seal, just as the beast, with the greatest impetus, was sliding down the rock. In attempting to stop its way, his foot slipped, and with the line coiled round his arm, before any of us could go to his assistance, he was dragged off into the boiling waters. He was a first-rate swimmer, but with so huge a sea-monster attached to him, how could he hope to escape. The rock sloped in a different direction to where the boats were, so that they could render him no assistance. I thought of the scene we had just witnessed—the unhappy exile dying alone on the desert island—and I dreaded a similar fate for my friend. With a cry of dismay we looked towards the drowning man. He disappeared among the foaming breakers.

Still, but with little hope, we watched the spot. Yes—there was his head! He was swimming free! Bravely he mounted the crest of a roller; it rushed in for the rock; but before he could find his footing, or we could stretch out our arms to help him, he was carried off again among the foaming waves. Meantime old Knowles had climbed up the rock in the face of the sea-lions, whom he was knocking on the head right and left with his club, and signalled the boats to pull round to Newman’s assistance. Still, however, with only a couple of hands in each, it would take, I saw, a considerable time before they could reach him, and I resolved to make one attempt to save his life, at the risk, though it might be, of my own. Sticking my harpoon in a crevice of the rock which my eye at that instant fell on, I seized the end of the line, and in spite of the sea-lions, which kept rushing past me, I struck out into the surf as I saw Newman once more approaching. Happily I grasped him by the collar as the sea was once more heaving him back, and the captain and other shipmates coming to our assistance, we were hauled safely up the rocks.

There was not now a moment to be lost if we would capture any seals. Although many had escaped, still a good number remained near; and following the example set by old Knowles, we began laying about us on every side most lustily with our weapons, bestowing heavy blows on the heads of the frightened beasts. One blow was generally sufficient to stun, if not to kill them outright, and we then quickly despatched them with our knives. “On, my lads, on!” cried the captain; and up the rocky steep we went, meeting the maddened inhabitants as they came floundering down upon us. We had literally often to climb over the fallen bodies of the slain. Sometimes one of our party would miss his footing, and he and half-a-dozen seals would go sliding away down the rock, the beasts biting at him, and he struggling to get free, and in no small terror of being carried away into the surf. Such would inevitably have been the lot of more than one of us had not we all kept a watch to help each other out of such difficulties.

Our captain’s combat with the old lion was the most severe. As the captain, unwilling to lose his lance or the beast, holding on to the former, was dragged downwards, they reached a ledge of rock which sloped in an opposite direction to the surrounding parts, and thus formed a table on which they could rest. Here the monster, finding that he could not escape from his opponent, turned bravely to bay, and grinning with his large, strong teeth, made fiercely at him. The captain held on pertinaciously to the handle of the spear, springing actively out of the way of the beast’s mouth, as in its contortions and struggles it approached him too nearly. The lion roared, and snarled, and struggled, and the captain held on bravely, but I believe would soon have had to let go had not old Knowles, springing down the rock, given the animal a blow on the head with his stick, which effectually settled him.

There were many other single combats, and more of one man against half-a-dozen beasts; but the result was that we came off victorious without the loss of anyone, while we could boast of having killed upwards of sixty seals. Our next work was to flay them. This, in the hands of experienced operators, was soon performed, and in a short time we had sufficient skins ready to load our boats, and to make caps and jackets for all hands, besides what were required for the ship’s use. The boats now came back to the spot where we were to embark, and by carefully waiting our time, we leaped on board with no other damage than wet jackets.

“Williams,” said Newman, as we were pulling on shore, “you have nobly preserved my life at the risk of your own. I trust that I may be grateful.”

We had won many a prize from the vasty deep with no little toil, and visited many strange people living under burning suns, when we found ourselves at anchor in the Roads of Batavia, the capital of the large and fertile island of Java. It was taken by the English in the year 1811 from the Dutch, or rather from the French, who had temporary possession of it. The British fleet employed on the occasion was under the command of Admiral Sir Robert Stopford, and the army under that of General Wetherall and Colonel Gillespie. That admirable and talented man, Sir Stamford Raffles—the greatest benefactor the islands of the East had ever known, till Sir James Brooke followed in his footsteps, was then appointed governor, and had his counsels and prayers been followed, it would still have been a bright jewel in the British crown. Unhappily neither were heeded. His letters describing the fertility and unbounded resources, when properly developed, of that immense territory, remained unread, unopened at the Colonial Office; and at the general peace Java was cast back as a worthless trifle into the heap to be enjoyed by others, which England had gained by so much blood and treasure. The Dutch took possession, and very speedily re-established the system of close monopoly and grinding tyranny which the enlightened policy of Sir Stamford Raffles had abolished.

Newman had now so completely established himself in the good opinion of the captain, that he was treated more as an officer than a foremast-man, and whenever duty would allow, he was permitted to go on shore to visit whatever was worthy of notice. He looked upon me completely in the light of a pupil, in whose advancement he had the deepest interest. “Never mind how old you are,” he used to say; “you will outlive me yet by many a year, and will have plenty of use for all the information you can pick up before you die.” I little thought at the time how true his words would prove. He used in joke to call me hardy Old Jack; and certainly for many years I never had had an hour’s illness. The truth is, that I was gifted with a sound constitution, and had avoided playing tricks with it, as a great number of people do, and then complain of the sicknesses with which they are afflicted, shutting their eyes to the fact that they have brought them on themselves entirely in consequence of their own folly.

While we lay at Batavia, I was constantly on shore with Newman. The Roads of Batavia are rather more than a quarter of a league from the city, and are guarded from the prevailing winds by a dozen small islands outside them. The ground on which the city stands bears evident signs of having been thrown up by the sea, but rises gradually to the mountains ten leagues off behind it. The River Jacatra runs through the city, and it is intersected likewise in all directions by canals. It has also a moat running round it, as likewise a wall of coral-rock. Its defences consist of twenty bastions, and a castle near the sea, with a mud-bank in front of it. It is, indeed, completely a Dutch city. But besides its numberless canals and ditches, as it is situated in a dead marshy flat, and is surrounded with dirty fens, bogs, and morasses, over which a tropical sun sends down its burning rays, drawing up noxious vapours of every description, it may be considered, taken all in all, as one of the most unhealthy cities of the civilised world. By care and proper drainage these defects might be amended, and, as the general temperature of the atmosphere is not excessive, it might become as healthy as any other place in those regions.

Java is about two hundred miles long and forty broad, and has numerous deep inlets along the northern coast, where ships may anchor during the good or south-east monsoon. A chain of mountains, from which a number of rivers descend to the sea, runs down the centre, and divides the island into two parts. The air is cooled by the sea-breezes, which, as in the West Indies, set in every day. The soil is particularly rich. It is cultivated by buffaloes, and in some places one is sufficient to drag a plough. Java produces rice of a first-rate quality, sugar in abundance, cotton in considerable quantities, salt, timber, indigo, coffee, pepper, and various kinds of spices.

Java is, in reality, governed by the Dutch East India Company; but it is divided into a number of provinces, ruled over by puppet princes with the title of Sultan. At the court of each, one of the Company’s chief officers, or head merchants, as they are called, resides. In some of the provinces these petty emperors have been deposed, and they are governed by one of the Company’s officers, under the title of Resident. The religion of these princes is Mohammedan, as is that of the natives generally, though intermixed with many superstitious observances. No government rules a country with a more despotic system, or is more jealous of foreign interference with its trade. I suspect, also, that none has done more injury to the advancement of civilisation in the East, from their readiness to submit to all the absurd customs and degrading ceremonies imposed on them by the Chinese and other semi-barbarous nations, for the purpose of advancing their mercantile interests. Taught by them, these people look upon all Europeans as tribes of mean and despicable traders, who have neither the power nor the spirit to resent any injuries inflicted on them.

In the environs of Batavia are a number of villages, some inhabited by Malays, and others by Chinese, who visit the island in great numbers, and carry on a considerable trade, notwithstanding the persecutions to which they have at times been subject. In various beautiful spots, both near the city or the neighbouring hills, and along the sea-shore, are found the large and handsome country residences of the chief merchants and other authorities connected with the Company. There are five principal roads which lead from the city towards the country, and which are planted with high and shady trees. One of the most beautiful roads leading to the Port of Jacatra is closely planted with a double row of mango-trees, and both sides of it are embellished with large and pleasant gardens, and many fine and elegant buildings. All the roads are much of the same description, and give a character of finished cultivation to the neighbourhood of the city. Both sides of the streets, as well as of the numerous canals, are planted with fine trees, so that the country all round Batavia may well be characterised as a tropical Holland.

The governor-general usually resides at his country-seat, called Weltevreeden, a superb mansion, about an hour and a quarter’s walk from the city. He there resides in great state, and never goes about without being attended by a body-guard, dressed in coats of scarlet cloth richly laced with gold.

The ordinary habitations of the Europeans are of brick, run up in a light airy manner, and stuccoed on the outside. They have sash-windows. The interiors are all on the same plan. The fronts are in general narrow, and the houses extend back a long way from the street. Fronting the entrance, a narrow passage, with a parlour on one side, leads to a large long room, lighted from an inner court, into which it opens. This apartment is called the “gallery,” and here the family live and dine. The floors are of large, square, dark-red stones. No hangings are to be seen, but the walls are neatly stuccoed and whitened. The furniture consists of some arm-chairs and two or three sofas. On the walls are numerous looking-glasses, and chandeliers or lamps are hung in a row along the ceiling of the gallery, and are lighted up in the evening. The stairs leading to the upper rooms are generally at the end of the gallery. The upper parts of the houses are divided much as below. They are generally but scantily provided with furniture; indeed, from the heat of the climate but little is required. Behind the gallery are the lodgings for the slaves, the kitchen, and the out-houses. Instead of being glazed, the windows are often closed with a lath-work of rattans.

Few of those in the city have gardens. In the country, on the contrary, the greatest attention is paid to them, many of which are very beautiful, though laid out in the formal Dutch style, as they are full of the choicest flowers and shrubs. Newman was especially struck with them.

“Ah, this would indeed be a beautiful country to live in, if people could but manage not to die!” he exclaimed. Unhealthy as the country undoubtedly is, the city itself is far worse, so that, as a place of residence, it is almost abandoned by the more wealthy merchants, who only visit it as a place of business—their fine mansions being turned into stores or counting-houses.

Europeans at Batavia, of whatever nation, live much in the same way. They rise at daybreak, and sit for some time cooling themselves in the thinnest dress in which they have passed the night; then they dress, and breakfast on coffee or tea, and are at their offices at eight. They work till nearly noon, when they dine, and take a nap till four, when they again attend to business till six. Afterwards they drive out, or mix in social intercourse in an informal way till nine, when they sup, and retire to bed at eleven. Newman, whose means of observation were greater than mine, told me that the men had their parties together, and the ladies theirs, which I should consider a very bad arrangement. The men of higher rank—the upper merchants—are each attended by a slave, holding an umbrella behind him; but a junior merchant must carry his umbrella himself.

The women marry very young, are very ill-educated, and pass much of their time lolling on sofas, talking and laughing with their slaves, whom another moment they will order to be whipped for the slightest offence. Those born in the country have very supple joints, and can twist their fingers, hands, and arms in almost every direction. What can be expected from women who are abandoned, almost as soon as born, to the care of ignorant slaves—little or no care being taken to inculcate moral or religious principles into their plastic minds, till they have fully imbibed all the superstitious notions and prejudices which are held by their attendants? While saying this, I must urge parents at home never—if they value the eternal happiness of their children—if they wish them to imbibe right principles, and to avoid pernicious ones—to commit them to the charge of persons, however decent in their behaviour, who are not likely, from their want of education, to be able to instil them. Parents, children were given you by God; and at your hands he will require them. On your care, on your exertions, on your prayers, it depends whether they grow up a blessing to you and to themselves, or become miserable and lost. Still, children, nothing will exonerate you, when you become free agents, and understand good from evil, if you reject the good and choose the evil. You have more need for prayer, more need for exertion, more need for self-control, to conquer the vices which have grown up with you; and, believe Old Jack, however you may be weighed down with them, if you will but try, if you will but cast all your burden on Him who is alone able to bear it, you will succeed.

Provisions of all sorts we found abundant and cheap. The fruits are the cocoa, areca, banana, papaya, white and red shaddock, mangostan, rambootang, ananas, and betel. Saffron is collected there, and every description of allspice. The betel is a creeping-plant with an aromatic leaf. The natives spread over the leaf a little slaked-lime, and place at one end a small piece of areca-nut and cardamom. They then roll the leaf up, and masticate it for hours together. It blackens their teeth and reddens their lips, and gives an effect which the Chinese and Malays admire considerably.

Java abounds in serpents—the smallest is the most dangerous. Its bite is said to cause death. It is scarcely thicker than a candle, and from two to three feet long. They are of various colours:—some grey, spotted with white; and others green, with bright red and white streaks. We heard of one twenty feet long, and of the thickness of a man’s arm; and saw another stuffed, as big round as the body of a man, and about fifteen feet long. The Javanese are likewise plagued with ants, and all sorts of creeping things.

Having given a faint sketch of the mode of life of the rulers of this wealth-giving island, I must briefly describe the native inhabitants, as also some of the numerous tribes which flock there from other quarters.

As I have already observed, the native princes, the nominal governors of the greater part of the country, are kept in the most perfect subjection by the Company; and the common Javanese are in the most abject state of slavery. The labourer is not only obliged, at fixed periods, to deliver a certain quantity of the fruits of his industry to the regent placed over him on behalf of the Company, for whatever price the latter chooses to allow him, and that price, moreover, paid in goods, which are charged to him at ten times their real value; but he likewise cannot consider what may remain as his own property, not being permitted to do with it what he may think fit, nor allowed to sell it to others at a higher or a lower rate; on the contrary, he is compelled to part with this also, as well as with what the Company claimed of him, to the same petty tyrant, at an arbitrary price, very much below its real value.

The Javanese, like all people living under a torrid zone and a despotic government, are of an indolent disposition, and, it is said, require great excitement to make them work; but the real secret of their idleness is the certainty that they will not be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labour. Possessing no certain property, they are satisfied with little. The food of those who inhabit the level country is rice and fish; but those who dwell in the mountains use a root called tallas, with salt. This salt they make out of the ashes of wood. Their dwellings are little huts, constructed of bamboos, plastered with mud, and thatched with broad leaves. Their furniture consists of a bedstead made of bamboos, a block on which to pound their rice, two pots for boiling food, and a few cocoa-nut shells for drinking. They seldom live much beyond their fiftieth year. They were converted to Islamism about 1406, when the Arabian Chick-Ibn Molana came over, and, marrying the daughter of the king of Damak, received as her portion the province of Cheribon. Their mosques are generally of wood, and perfectly unadorned; but the tomb and mosque of the said Ibn Molana form a magnificent edifice. They do not place their dead in coffins, but wrap them in linen, and place a stone at the head and another at the foot of the grave, as seats for the two angels who, after their death, examine into their conduct while in this world.

The Javanese are, in general, well-shaped; of a light-brown colour; with black eyes and hair, their eyes being much sunk in the head. They have flattish noses and large mouths. In figure, they are generally thin, though muscular; here and there only a corpulent person being seen. The women, when young, have softer features than the men; but when they grow old, it is difficult to conceive any human being more hideous than they become. A man’s dress consists of a pair of linen breeches, scarcely reaching half-way down the thighs, and over this a sort of shirt of blue or black coarse cotton cloth, which hangs loose below the knee. The hair of the head is bound up in a handkerchief, in the form of a turban. A woman’s dress consists of a coarse chintz cloth, wrapped twice round the body, fastened under the bosom, and hanging down to the calf of the leg; over this is a short jacket, which reaches to the waist. No covering is worn on the head, but the hair is bound up in a fillet, and fastened at the back of the head with large pins. Sometimes chaplets of flowers are worn. Children run about without clothes till they are eight years old. Of course, I have been speaking only of the lower classes. The upper generally dress with great magnificence.

The Javanese are not much employed as domestic servants, but slaves have been brought from the coast of Bengal, Malabar, Sumatra, and other parts, as well as from Celebes, and often become very accomplished servants. They are generally well-treated, and behave well; but their great vice is gaming, to which they are tempted by the Chinese, who keep the gaming-houses, and are much too cunning to allow the poor slaves to regain what they may have lost. This vice, as is the case elsewhere, tempts them to rob their masters and to commit many other crimes, for the sake of supplying themselves with money to continue the practice, or to recover what they have lost.

There are said to be a hundred thousand Chinese in and about Batavia, the whole population amounting only to a hundred and sixty thousand, made up of natives, Armenians, Persians, Arabs, Malays, Negroes, and Europeans. We were witnesses of a curious spectacle one day, when the Chinese assembled from far and near to visit the tombs of their ancestors at Jacatra, near the site of the capital of that ancient kingdom. The road from Batavia to Jacatra is a very fine one. On either side it is adorned with magnificent palaces, occupied by the councillors of the Indies, the principal persons in the Company’s service, and the richest merchants. In front of these palaces, parallel to the causeway, is a navigable canal crossed by bridges very ingeniously constructed of bamboo. On the opposite banks are numerous native villages, which are seen peeping through the cocoa, banana, papaya, and other bushy shrubs, with which every hut is surrounded. Near the ancient capital is the fortress to which the unhappy Prince of Genea withdrew when the Dutch conquered the kingdom, and where he lost his life fighting desperately.

In the Chinese burying-place are great numbers of tombs, with inscriptions specifying the time of the death, age, name, and virtues of those whose remains are within. The tombs are much ornamented, and surrounded with cypresses; and on either side are benches on which the relatives and friends may rest when they come to perform their funeral duties. On the present occasion the tombs were ornamented with wreaths of paper or silk of different colours, and three wax tapers were burning on each. Provisions, also, were either sent or brought, and placed as offerings on the tombs. The most opulent were distinguished from the rest by the richness of their viands—fish, fruit, sweetmeats, and beverages. These provisions, having been left for some hours on the tombs, were partly consumed by the family of the deceased, some was offered to the spectators, and the rest carried away. Roasted fowls, which had been kept whole on purpose, were, however, left behind by some; for what purpose I could not ascertain. These travelled Chinese had got over many of their national prejudices, and very politely offered Newman and me some of the good things; of which we partook with no little satisfaction, though, as my companion observed, a cemetery was an odd place to pic-nic in.

Movable theatres were erected on one side of the cemetery, and temples had been built on the plain below. These temples are large saloons, ornamented with grotesque and antique statues, especially those representing Josi in the midst of his family. Josi, a disciple of Confucius, and afterwards his most confidential friend, rose from the dregs of the people, and became the greatest legislator of his nation. After the death of Confucius, the emperor banished him; so he retired in the bosom of his family to the low state from which he had sprung, where he declared that he enjoyed far more true happiness than he had ever done in his exalted position. To him and his benignant laws the Chinese are indebted for the preservation of their manners, customs, and dress. He is always represented in his retirement after his labours for the public good were concluded. We had here, as Newman observed, an example of the way in which the ancients deified their great men, and learned to worship them.

Opposite each idol were burning red wax tapers, of different sizes, and matches of incense. An altar or table covered with dainties stood in the middle of the temple, surrounded by idols; and in a room behind it was another altar, surmounted with a statue of Josi. An old bonze or priest of venerable aspect, with a long white beard, stood up, reciting some prayers in a low voice. He had on his head a white straw-hat, in the shape of a cone. On the top of it was a little ball of gold, and behind a small tuft of red silk. He kept continually bowing with great regularity, and every now and then let fall a piece of wood like a ruler, which he as often picked up again. He was habited in a tunic of transparent violet silk, with a girdle of twisted silk ornamented with gold; and to it were attached the instruments required for the ceremony. Over this he wore a gold-embroidered robe, with long sleeves turned up at the wrists. It was of violet colour, and a strong material; and, being closed all round, must have been put on over the head. On his breast and back were two plates of rich gold embroidery, representing an eagle, or a bird like one. In his hand he had a large fan, the case of which hung at his girdle like a knife-sheath. His slippers were square at the toes, and embroidered with gold; but his legs were bare.

Under the vestibule of the temple, a hog and a goat, with the horns on, were killed as burnt-offerings, and placed on a stand, with their entrails before them. The interior of the temple was filled with tables covered with preserved fruits and tea, where the bonzes and rich people were sitting eating, drinking, and smoking; but none of the multitude ventured in. Many female bonzes, or bonzesses, were in the vestibule, dressed in violet silk robes, but without embroidery. Their hair was twisted and turned up behind, forming a round tuft, fastened with two diamond-headed pins. These tufts were stuck round with other very rich pins, forming the beams of a most brilliant sun. They took no part that we saw in the ceremonies.

What I have described seemed to be a prelude to the ceremonies. The bonzes, fifteen in number, left the vestry to the sound of shrill, noisy music. They took their stations before the altar, where they made many genuflexions and gestures. They then presented to the high-priest, who had no distinguishing mark, many meats which were on the altar. On this he made various signs, pronouncing some words in a whining tone of lamentation. After having made various libations with several liquors, which he spread over the offerings, the other bonzes replaced them on the altar. One of them then took a card, containing characters, from which he sung. Judging from the loud laughter of part of the auditory, the words seemed to have little analogy to the ceremony. Every bonze held in his hand a box filled with incense matches, one of which he lighted as soon as its predecessor was extinguished. After a repetition of this ceremony, during which the music was never discontinued, they entered the side-room to take refreshment. Having drunk their tea, they went in procession to a second temple, where the same ceremony was gone through. Thence they repaired to the theatre. When they had reached the front of it they halted. “Are they going to act?” said I. “I should not be surprised,” observed Newman. “What are they but actors? The people, you see, have taken no part whatever in the matter.” The chief bonze mounted the theatre alone, and having made many violent gestures and exclamations, again descended, when the performances began. During these ceremonies the gates of the temples, and both sides of the theatres, were filled with common Chinese, a large number of whom were children, playing different games of chance. I never saw people so fond of gaming as they are.

A part of the roasted poultry was left all night on the tombs, the common people imagining that at that period the dead assemble and eat it up. People in misfortune strew amulets over the graves of their ancestors, to obtain their favour. These amulets are bits of silk paper, on which are spread pieces of leaf silver, which they fancy passes current as a paper-money among the dead. I could not ascertain whether the hog and goat were actually offered up with any ceremony, or simply left to be devoured by the priests.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” asked Newman, as we were on our way back to the ship.

“Yes, I think I have,” I answered.

“So have I,” he remarked, “in a Roman Catholic church. The priests of Rome—ancient and modern—and these bonzes are much alike. They have both copied their ceremonies from the Jews and the heathens of old, travestying them somewhat, to make them pass for their own. Depend on it Josi understood human nature, and knew what would suit the taste of the vulgar.”

So numerous are the Chinese in Java, and so inclined to revolt, that the Dutch government are always careful to provide them with amusements. In each place there is a chief, with the title of “captain,” who is answerable for their good conduct. He is obliged to maintain, at his own cost, a troop of female actors, called Bayadeers. They perform, without exception, every night, from nine o’clock till daybreak, in a kind of theatre, in the middle of the street. The play, as far as we could make out, represents the wars of the Tartars against the Chinese. Various chiefs, in different costumes, with their faces smeared black or white, or masked, come to announce a new war, in which they anticipate great success. They harangue the soldiers with violent gestures. Then comes a general or emperor, and, making another speech, gets up on a table with a chair on the top of it, when he takes his seat at the back of the stage. The combatants then come in with long spears, and, fighting desperately, one party runs away, while the other has to listen to a long speech on their bravery. The Tartars are known by their short coats, large trousers, helmets, sabres, and great shields. The roaring music of gom-goms never stops during the performance.

One day we visited the Chinese quarter, where there are an immense number of gaming and eating tables. The seats, as well as the tables, are made of bamboo. The Chinese eat with two little sticks, and use a spoon of china with a short crooked handle. Each article of food is served on a little dish like a saucer. The jelly, minced meats, and soup, are generally cold, while their beverages are hot. The chief is arrack, sugar, and hot water. The favourite dish is part of a dog, of a species with a smooth skin, which they carefully fatten. It is eaten with every kind of sauce. No people eat so much pork as the Chinese. The hundred thousand Chinese in Batavia are said to feed at least four hundred thousand pigs, which increase not a little the bad odours of the place. Whether they do it to keep the Jews at a distance, I do not know, but the two people do not get on well together.

We used to meet in the Chinese company, or quarter, curious processions of men, with marked or painted faces, having kettle-drums, gom-goms, and tambourines. Some, grotesquely dressed, were carried on poles or in hampers, ornamented with paper, ribbons, and little bells; some were seated on monsters, like our representations of sea-horses. These processions are in honour of the spirit of evil. The reason they give for them is, that as the Divinity is infinitely good, it is not necessary to implore him; but the devil, on the contrary, must be feasted and amused, to prevent him from going about and committing mischief. In every Chinese house, in a sort of shrine, is a picture of Confucius, represented as a great fat man, with the devil at his side tempting him. On each side are pots of flowers and tapers of red wax, gilt, which are lighted on certain days, together with a little lamp in front, just as is seen in Romish chapels.

Chinese girls are always shut up, and employed in sewing and embroidery; and parents arrange marriages without the couple having even seen each other. The poorer sort, however, are allowed to serve in their shops. We heard the people generally well spoken of, as being good fathers, sons, husbands, and friends. They carry on every art and traffic, and engross nearly all the house and ship building in Batavia, though they pay enormous annual duties to the Company on their industry and trade. Among other duties, they pay for being allowed to let their nails grow long, especially that of the little finger, as it is a proof that they do not work for their living. The twisted tail, which they wear extremely long, often down to their knees, pays in proportion to its length. It is measured every year at a fixed time. To cut off the tail of a Chinaman, or to pare his nails, is looked upon as a most severe punishment. Their dress consists of large trousers, and round coats, which reach to the middle of the thighs. It is either of black or very bright sky-blue. White is worn for mourning; and when for a very near relative, the collar has a rent in it. They have a custom of keeping their dead for some days in the house, which, in such a warm climate, frequently causes bad fevers. A Chinese house, where a death has happened, is known by a white cloth hung in lieu of the door.

This information, through Newman’s help, I picked up during our visits on shore. The ship had been at anchor about a week, when we again went on shore, and had walked on for an hour or so, when, a little beyond Fort Ansol, we found ourselves in front of a Chinese temple, standing in a grove of cocoa-nut trees by the side of a rivulet, among very pretty scenery. The building was about twenty feet long, and twelve wide. The entrance was through a railing into a small area, and then into a hall, at the end of which was the sanctuary. In the middle of the hall, just within the door, was an altar, on which red wax tapers were burning. There was also an image of a lion, richly gilt. At the end of the hall was a picture of an old man and a woman, with crowns on their heads, and about two feet high. They were, I suppose, Josi and his wife. While we were there, several people came in, and prostrating themselves before the picture, knocked their heads continually against the ground. At last a man came in to consult the idols by divination. He had in his hand two small longitudinal pieces of wood, flat on one side, and round on the other. Holding these pieces of wood, with the flat sides toward each other, he let them fall on the ground. As they fell, with the flat or round side up, so he augured well or ill of some proposed enterprise or project. He let the sticks fall upwards of twenty times, but seemed as ill-contented as at first with the promises they made. Every time they prognosticated evil, he shook his head with a most disconsolate look. I could not help saying, “Try it again, Chinaman; don’t give in.” Whether he understood me or not I do not know, but down he went on the ground, and thumped his head very hard and often. Then he jumped up and threw the sticks, and I suppose the omen proved favourable, for with a joyful countenance he lighted a thick candle and placed it on the altar. As soon as he was gone, the cunning old bonze blew it out and sold it to the next comer.

We must not be surprised to hear that the Chinese at times revolt against the authority of the Europeans among whom they live, and commit murders and other atrocities; and then to hear of a cruel massacre committed by the Dutch upon them in Batavia. On one occasion, many thousands had collected; and some of them having been guilty of murders and robberies, a considerable apprehension was excited against the whole body. The Council, therefore, determined that every Chinese who could not prove that he was obtaining an honest livelihood, should be transported to Ceylon, to be employed as a slave in the service of the Company. Among others, a number of Chinese of wealth were seized; and a report getting abroad that all were to be thus treated, they flew to arms, and quitting the city in great numbers, took up their quarters in the mountains, and strengthened themselves so much as to render the fate of Batavia itself precarious.

In this dilemma the Council offered the rebels an amnesty; but this they refused, and marching towards the city, ravaged the country on every side. Here, however, they met with a severe repulse; and when the infuriated soldiers and sailors returned into the city, supposing that the Chinese who had remained quiet within their houses were about to revolt, they attacked them wherever they could be found. All the Chinese, men, women, and children, without distinction, were put to the sword; the prisoners in chains were slaughtered; and even some wealthy people, who had fled to Europeans for safety, were, through the violation of every principle of humanity and morality, delivered up to their sanguinary pursuers—the Europeans embezzling the property confided to them. Thus, all the Chinese, both innocent and guilty, were exterminated. Notwithstanding this, however, thousands rushed in soon after to supply their places! It was apprehended that this occurrence would excite the indignation of the Emperor of China, and, perhaps, induce him to stop their trade with his country; but when they sent deputies to apologise, their fears were shown to be groundless by his truly paternal reply,—to the effect that he was little solicitous for the fate of unworthy subjects, who, in the pursuit of lucre, had quitted their country, and abandoned the tombs of their ancestors!

Notwithstanding the unhealthiness of the climate, and the impediments thrown in the way of commerce by the unwise restrictions of the Dutch, the Roads of Batavia are always full of the flags of all nations, attracted by the profit merchants are still able to make. As Batavia is, or rather was, before Singapore was established, the sole depot for the spices of the Moluccas and the productions of the island of Java, consisting of rice, coffee, sugar, arrack, and pepper, ships were coming continually from every part of India, Africa, and even Europe; and as they were not allowed to take away coin, they were compelled to fill up with some or other of the above-mentioned productions. The trade, indeed, was one almost exclusively of barter.

Bengal sent drugs, patnas, blue cloths, different kinds of stuffs, and opium; which were exchanged for rice, sugar, coffee, tea, spices, arrack, a small quantity of silks, and china-ware. The kings of Achen and Natal, in the island of Sumatra, sent camphor—the best which is known—benzoin, birds’-nests, calin, and elephants’ teeth; and in return took opium, rice, patnas, and frocks, which were made at Java, Macassar, and the Moluccas. The princes of the Isle of Borneo sent gold dust, diamonds, and birds’-nests; and took opium, rice, patnas, frocks, gunpowder, and small guns, as they said, to defend themselves against pirates, but, in reality, for their own use as pirates.

The Americans brought kerseymeres, cloths, hats, gold-wire, silver-galloon, stationery, wine, beer, Seltzer water, provisions, and piastres; in exchange for spices, sugar, arrack, tea, coffee, rice, rushes, and Chinese silk and porcelain. The Muscat ships brought piastres and gum-arabic; those from the Isle of France, wine, olive-oil, vinegar, hams, cheese, soap, common trinkets, and ebony.

From the Cape of Good Hope were received kitchen-garden seeds, butter, Constantia and Madeira wines; while the Chinese brought immense quantities of porcelain and silks of every kind, taking in return opium, ebony, sandal-wood, spices, and birds’-nests. These nests are half the size of a woman’s hand. They are made by a very small sea-swallow, (Hirundo esculenta), and consist of a glutinous substance, interwoven with filaments. They are found in the cavities of steep rocks on the coast of all the Sunda Islands, on the northern shores of Australia, and in many other parts of the Indian Seas. The native way of procuring them is by fixing a stick on the summit of the precipice, with a rope-ladder secured to it, whence the hunters descend in their search into the most perilous situations. Although they have neither taste nor smell, yet, from being supposed to be both tonic and a powerful stimulant, they are an ingredient in all the ragouts of the most wealthy people in China. They make an excellent broth. The white nests are most in request. They are prepared by being first washed in three or four changes of lukewarm water. When they have been some time in it, they puff up like large vermicelli. Europeans, indeed, discover nothing more in this singular dish than an insipid jelly, very much indeed resembling vermicelli, when simply boiled.

After Java was restored to the Dutch, England still carried on a considerable commerce with the island; but it is far smaller than it would be under a less restricted system.

The Dutch were for long the only European nation who kept up any commercial communication with Japan, because no other would submit to the absurd restrictions and degrading ceremonies imposed by that barbarian power. Every year, the governor-general sent a ship of fifteen hundred tons, laden with kerseymeres, fine cloths, clock-work, and spices. These were chiefly exchanged for bars of copper, which were made into a very clumsy kind of coin for paying the native and European troops, as well as the people employed in the counting-houses of Java and the Moluccas. These ingots are of the finest red copper, and as thick as the finger. They are cut into two, four, six, and eight sous-pieces of Holland. The value is inscribed on them. This coin is termed in the Malay language baton, which signifies a stone. The captain, however, brings back furniture, fans, various articles of copper, and sabres—the temper of the blades of which equals the best workmanship of Turkey. The cargo always contains a present to the emperor; and he, in return, sends one to the Dutch governor-general.

When the Batavian ship is seen, the emperor’s agent hails it, to demand whether the captain is a Christian. He replies that he is Dutch, when a signal is made for him to approach. From that moment he is boarded by innumerable armed boats. He is first boarded to see that he has neither women nor books; for the law is very severe against the introduction of either into the island. Were either found on board, the ship would be sent back without being allowed to anchor. This visit concluded, the merchandise is landed, the ship is disarmed and unrigged without the aid of the captain or crew, and the guns and rigging are carried on shore. The captain transmits the bill of lading to the emperor’s agent, with a note of what he desires in exchange, and waits quietly for the merchandise he is to have in return. Provisions are amply supplied in the meantime to the crew. When the return merchandise is ready on the beach, the emperor having notified what he chooses for the ensuing year, the Japanese themselves again load the vessel, replace her rigging, and restore her arms, papers, and effects, of which they took possession on her arrival. There is no instance of anything having been lost; indeed, the Dutch speak of the Japanese as a most honest people. They are said to leave their shops and stores without guards or clerks. If a Japanese goes to a shop, and finds no one there, he takes the article he wants, lays down the value marked on it, and goes out. All the streets of the towns are closed at night by iron gates, and each Japanese is responsible for his neighbour; so they are all interested that no harm should happen to one another. When a theft is committed in any quarter, and the author cannot be discovered, the crier, (who is a kind of police agent), the judge of the division, and the neighbours are compelled to make good the loss, and are subject to severe corporal punishment.

Very little in those days was known of the interior of Japan, as the Dutch ambassadors were compelled to submit to the most humiliating conditions to keep up their intercourse with the country. On visiting the capital, they were conveyed in palanquins, well enclosed with fixed lattice-work, like prison-vans in England; and the bearers dared not, for fear of their lives, indulge them with a view of the country through which they passed. This information about Japan Newman gained from one of the officers of the ship trading there. To return to Java.

One day when we were on shore, we saw a great confusion among the crowd, who were dispersing on every side, as if in mortal dread of something; and presently we saw a half-naked Malay with a long dagger in his hand, striking right and left at everybody he met, killing some and wounding others. As he ran on, crying out in his frenzy, “Amok—amok—amok! kill—kill—kill!” we saw some of the police dashing towards him with long poles, at the end of which was a fork of wood with iron spikes inside it. He dodged by several of them, killing one on his way, till at last a guard met him full in front, and he ran in on the fork, when he was immediately pinned to the ground; but even then he struck out on every side with his glittering weapon.

This is what is called running a muck! from the word used amok—kill! He had, as is the custom, taken a large quantity of opium, and thus excited himself to fury in consequence of some supposed or real injury he had received from his master! Most of these mucks are run by slaves brought from Celebes. Being mortally wounded, he was immediately broken alive on the wheel, in the presence of two councillors of justice.

It is remarkable, that at Batavia, where the assassins, when taken alive, are broken on the wheel, the mucks are of great frequency; while at Bencoolen, where they are executed in the most simple and least cruel way, they seldom occur. Slaves who have murdered their masters, were executed with the most horrible barbarity by being impaled. An iron was passed down their backs, so as not to touch any vital part, and by it they were suspended, one end of the iron rod being fixed in a post ten feet from the ground. If the weather is dry, they may live on many days in that horrid position; but if water enters the wound, mortification ensues, and they quickly die.

The Javanese emperors used till lately to throw their criminals to wild beasts, or compelled them to enter into combat with them. I heard a story of a Javanese who was condemned to be torn in pieces by tigers. On being thrown down from the top of a large cage, he fell across the back of the largest and fiercest of them, where he sat astride! So intimidated was the animal, that he did not attempt to injure him; while the others, awed by the unusual appearance, endeavoured to avoid him! The poor wretch, however, having been condemned to death, was shot dead in the cage. This custom was, however, prohibited by the French. Of course I have been speaking of a state of things as they existed some years ago, and I daresay some improvements have taken place; but at the same time the Dutch are of a very conservative disposition, and I suspect that most of my descriptions would be found correct even at the present day.

The pilot was on board, the topsails were loosed, and the order had been given to heave up the anchor, when a boat was seen coming off from the southern shore of the Mersey. A seaman sprung up the ship’s side, and a couple of chests were hoisted up after him. I was aloft. I looked down on deck and saw Newman. I found that he had written to the captain, who had reserved a berth for him, but it was still before the mast. He had the promise, he told me, of a mate’s berth should a vacancy occur; but he observed, “I am not ambitious. With what I have I am content.” He asked no questions as to what I had been doing. It was not his way. He was certainly free from vulgar curiosity; neither did he volunteer to give me any account of himself. I told him one day what I had done with the proceeds of the last voyage.

“Ah, you are wiser than I am, Williams,” he answered, with a tone of bitterness. “I thought so, or I should not have tried to make you my friend. I have been seeing life, as it is called. I wanted to discover what changes had taken place in the world during my absence—as if the world could ever change. I found it deceitful, vain, and frivolous as before. I have been buying experience. The whole remainder of my possessions lies stowed away in those two chests. The most valuable portions are a few new books for you and I to read and discuss; and this time I have not forgotten a suit of shore going clothes, in case I have to appear again in the character of a gentleman. And now, farewell—a long farewell to England’s shores! It may be that I shall never tread them again! Why should I regret it? There are brighter skies and richer lands in another hemisphere.”

We had a quick run to Cape Horn, which we rounded in safety; and then standing across the Pacific, we steered for the fishing-ground off the coast of Japan. We were, as in our former voyage, very successful indeed. I suspect that success in whaling, as in most other affairs of life, depends very much on the practical knowledge, the perseverance, and talent of those engaged in it. The master of a successful whaler will be found to unite all these qualifications. He meets with whales, because, exercising his judgment, and making use of the information he has collected, he goes to the ground where they are likely to be met with; he catches them, because he sets about it in the best way; and he brings his ship home in safety, because he never for a moment relaxes his care and watchfulness to guard against misfortune. For my own part, I do not believe in luck. I have never yet met with an instance of a lucky or an unlucky man in which I could not trace the effect to the cause.

We were lucky, because Captain Carr was a judicious, persevering, sensible man; and thus, in our first year’s fishing, we got more than a third full. At the end of that time we found ourselves brought up once more off Batavia.

The captain, in the kindest way, invited Newman at once to accompany him on shore. “Bring your drawings with you for Mynheer Von Kniper,” said he. “I doubt not that he will be glad to see them.”

On receiving the invitation, Newman dived below. When he returned on deck his appearance was completely changed. Instead of the rough seaman, he appeared as a well-dressed gentleman, and certainly more refined in appearance than either the captain or any of the officers. Captain Carr looked at him with an eye of satisfaction; and it was very pleasant to observe how perfectly free he was from any petty feeling of jealousy at seeing himself eclipsed by one of his own men. As the boat shoved off from the ship’s side I thought to myself—“Depend on it, there is something in store for Newman; he will not come back in the cynical spirit in which he seemed to be after his first visit.”

I had made excellent use of all my spare time during our passage out, and had added considerably to my stock of knowledge. Newman’s books were all admirably selected, and were of excellent service to me. The more I read, the more I wished to read—to gain information on points on which I found myself ignorant. Happily one of the crew, a fine, steady young man, had a Bible with him; and he having offered it to me, for the first time in my life I began to read its sacred pages. As I read on I was forcibly struck with its simplicity and beauty, its fulness and minuteness, and yet the immense amount of matter it contained. I began to compare one part with another—the prophecies with their fulfilment—one point of the history with the rest—the great variety of subjects and style, and yet the beautiful adaptation of the various parts with the whole; nor did I neglect to compare sacred with profane history, or to remark how one corroborates the other—just as modern science, the greater advances it makes, is found to confirm more and more the troth of the accounts given by the sacred writers. Still all this time my heart was not turned to the right way. I had discovered a new and inexhaustible source of interest, but that was all.

Newman did not return on board till the next day. He was much elated in spirits when he appeared, though he tried to repress the feeling.

“Well, Jack, the tide has begun to flow at last,” said he: “you shall hear all about it. Mynheer Von Kniper was excessively pleased with the drawings I took him, and the more so when I begged he would accept them from me.”

“‘I have often thought about you,’ said he; ‘and, I must confess, little expected to see you return here. I rejoice to see you back, for you must know that I have an offer to make you, which I hope you will think fit to accept. We have been for some time in want of a commander for one of the Colonial Government schooners, and I have ascertained from your captain that you are in every respect fitted for the post, and that he will give you your discharge from his ship. I have therefore great satisfaction in offering it to you.’

“I scarcely knew how to express myself in thanking him; so I took his hand, and shaking it heartily, told him that I was very much obliged to him, and that I placed myself entirely under his directions. So it was settled, and that same evening he presented me with my commission signed, and here I am, a lieutenant commander in the Dutch Colonial Navy! It is, in truth, a hop, step, and a jump into a post of honour I little expected, nor can I yet realise the greatness of the change.”

I congratulated Newman most sincerely on the prospects thus opened up to him, though I regretted being so completely separated from him, as I must expect to be, for the future. He suggested the possibility of my following him, but that I at once saw was not likely to occur. In the first place, Captain Carr was not likely to allow a steady hand to leave him so early in the voyage; and probably the Dutch authorities would not be very ready to give a berth to another Englishman on board the same vessel; added to which, I had some misgivings as to serving under their flag.

Newman, of course, saw the first of these objections; and probably, if the truth were known, though he might not have been ready to confess it to himself after the intimate terms on which we had been together, he would have found it inconvenient while he was captain to have had me before the mast. It must be remembered that, though my mind was beginning to be cultivated, I was still a rough, hardy sailor in appearance and manners. I had never in my life dreamed of aspiring to any command, and I did not feel myself fitted for any post above that which I then held.

While I say this I would point out that it is very necessary to be cautious in judging from appearances. A man may have a very refined mind under a somewhat rough exterior, and a very coarse, bad one within a handsome, attractive outside. Generally speaking, with a few minutes’ conversation, the appearance of a person and the expression of his countenance will show what is likely to be found within; but it is far wiser not to place more than ordinary confidence in the companions among whom we are thrown until they have been duly tried and found to walk rightly in their conduct towards God and man.

Newman seemed to be in no way elated by his change of fortune, and showed himself free from a very common littleness of mind, for he spent the rest of the day among us forward, talking and chatting with all hands as freely as before; and while he was packing his chests, he managed to find some little present as a keepsake for each of us. Then he sat himself down on his chest, and gave us an earnest lecture in his old style on the advantages of education, and urged us all to continue our studies as before, and to show by our conduct to each other and to our officers the superiority of educated, intelligent men over ignorant and uncultivated ones.

When he went aft to wish the officers good-bye, he was treated very kindly and politely by them, all of them congratulating him on his good fortune; and as he descended the ship’s side for the last time, we gave him three as hearty cheers as ever rose from the deck of a whaler with a full hold; and little Jim, the smallest boy on board, blubbered as if his heart would break at the loss of one whom he had learned to look on as his best friend.

Before we sailed he had his schooner fitted out and manned with a strange crew of Malays, Chinese, Dutchmen, Frenchmen, and not a few representatives of other nations. He sent me a note insisting on my going to see him on board. His schooner was a fine little vessel, though built in the colony by Chinese. She measured some hundred and fifty tons, and, well handled, was fit to go anywhere; but this would be difficult work, I saw, with his mongrel crew. His cabin was fitted up in the complete way I should have expected him to have planned. It was, indeed, a very different sort of place from that in which he had long been accustomed to live—much more like, in the handsomeness of its fittings and its accommodation, to the luxurious cabin of the old Rainbow, which I used to see in my youth. He himself, too, was greatly changed in his appearance from the rough sailor he had long been. When dressed in plain clothes, he looked like a gentleman certainly, but not a polished one; but in a uniform which became him perfectly, he was a very good-looking officer. He was conscious of the improvement.

“I begin to think that there are yet higher steps for me to climb, Williams,” he observed, after he had cordially welcomed me and ordered refreshments to be brought in. “Who knows but that one day I may become an admiral, or a governor of one of these islands? I am becoming ambitious, I assure you. I thought it was not in me. I was till lately perfectly contented with my lot. I proposed spending my youth knocking about in these seas, and when I found old age creeping on me, settling down in one of the many thousand beautiful isles of the bright Pacific to spend the remainder of my days. Now that dream has passed away, and I feel an anxiety to climb. I am growing more and more ambitious; for I see that there are plenty of things in this world worth living for—plenty of golden fruit to be plucked, if a man has but the daring to scramble up the tree in spite of the thorns and knots in the way, and reach out to the branches.”

What did I reply to Newman? Did I offer him good advice? Alas, no! I thought not to say to him, Do thy duty in that station of life to which it has pleased God to call thee, regardless of this world’s tinsel prizes. Look steadily forward to another and a better world for thy reward. This he did not. This world, and this alone, entirely occupied his attention. He only thought of the gratification of the moment. Blindly and obstinately he shut out from his contemplations all thoughts of his eternal interests.

Newman’s man-of-war schooner and the stout old whaler the Drake left Batavia Roads the same day. We were bound for the ground off Navigator’s and some of the neighbouring groups of islands. We were fortunate enough to kill a couple of whales on our passage, and within two years after leaving England had nearly filled up all our casks. I began to consider whether I should remain in the ship, or, supposing Captain Carr would be willing to give me my discharge, whether I should join another ship lately come out, and thus, by saving the long voyage home and back, more speedily accomplish what was now the aim of my existence—to make a sum sufficient to enable me to remain at home for the rest of my days. I was now advancing in life. I had seen a great deal of hard service, and I began to long for rest. Such is the desire implanted in the bosom of all men—rest for the mind, rest for the body, rest for the soul. In youth, when health, and vigour, and animal spirits are at their highest, it is not developed, but when age comes on, and the body begins to feel the symptoms of decay, the mind grows weary and the spirits flag. Then rest is sought for—rest is looked for as the panacea for all evils. Yet who ever found rest in this world—perfect tranquillity and joy? No one. Still that such is the fact I had yet to learn. Yet, would a beneficent Creator have implanted the desire in the human heart without affording the means of gratifying it? Certain I am that He would not; but thus, in his infinite wisdom, he shows us the vanity of this world, and points to another and a better, where assuredly it may be found.

I took an opportunity of mentioning the subject of my thoughts to the captain, and he promised me that, if no other of the crew left when the ship was full, should we fall in with another wanting hands, he would comply with my wish, and, moreover, invest my share of the profits of the voyage as I might direct.

We had been for some time on the ground I have spoken of when we found ourselves in a perfect calm. By slow degrees the usual sea went down, and even the swell of the mighty ocean subsided. The crew sat lazily about the deck—some making air-nets for hats, others pointing ropes, working a mouse, or making a pudding, or a dolphin, or turning in a gasket; some leaned idly over the rail, and others slept still more idly below; while a few, not altogether unmindful of our old shipmate’s instructions, were bending over their books or using their pencils. Some also were carving with their knives strange devices on bones, or cutting out rings from the shell of the tortoise.

“Ah, I wish we had Ned Newman aboard here!” exclaimed one. “He would soon set us all alive.”

“Why can’t you set yourselves alive?” said Tom Knowles, looking up from his work on a rope he had in hand. “Idle chaps are always talking of getting some one else to do what they ought to do for themselves. Just try now. Let’s try a stave at all events. Come, I’ll strike up.”

Old Tom’s proposal pleased all hands, and soon a melody, if not very sweet, at least harmonious, floated over the blue sea.

Whether the whales came to listen to our music, I cannot say; but while we were all joining in chorus, the ever-exciting shout of “There she spouts—there she spouts!” broke in upon it; and, springing to our feet, the boats were lowered and manned, and in less than three minutes four of them were gliding away as fast as they could be sent through the water, after two whales which made their appearance together, not far apart from each other.

The captain’s boat got hold of the first without much difficulty; but as he was a strong old bull, he played all sorts of antics, and other two boats were called to assist in his capture. Meantime the third mate’s boat, in which I was, went after the other whale, which sounded just as we got up to him. For some reason or other, he very soon appeared again a mile ahead, and away we went in chase. Again he played us the same trick, but this time he was longer under water, and must have gone upwards of two miles away before he once more came up. The more sport he seemed disposed to give us, the less inclined were we to lose him, so after him we went as fast as before—not faster, for that would have been difficult. As we got near, we saw that he was lying very quiet, and we did not think he saw us, so we had out our paddles, and began stealing up to him as cautiously as a cat does to a mouse—only in this case it was rather more like the mouse creeping up to the cat. The third mate was a well-built, powerful young man. Holding up his hand as a sign to us to be cautious, he stepped forward, and there he stood, harpoon in hand, as we glided on towards the monster. Down came the heavy harpoon, and it was buried, socket up, in the side of the monster! In an instant the acute pain woke him up. “Stern all!” was now the cry, and we had to back away from him in a great hurry, as, raising his mighty flukes, he went head down, sounding till he almost took away the whole of our line. Fortunately he met with the bottom, perhaps a coral-reef, and up he came, striking away head out at a great speed in the direction he had before taken. So intent were we on the chase, that we had little time to observe what was doing with the other whale, though, of course, we took the bearings of the ship, as we were rapidly whirled away till we completely lost sight of her. This was no unusual occurrence, nor did it in the smallest degree excite our apprehension, as we had never failed, with more or less trouble, to find our ship in the course of the day or night. On we went, as I say, making the smooth, bright sea hiss and bubble as the white foam frothed up over our bows.

The instant the whale slackened his speed we hauled in the line, so as to get up to him to thrust a lance or two into his body; but he was evidently a knowing old fellow, for by the time we had got half of it in, he was off again like a shot, spouting away every now and then, as if to show us in what capital breath he was for a long-run. At last he stopped, and began to turn slowly round. We thought that we had got him. “Hurrah, lads!” cried Barney Brian, an old boat-steerer. “Haul in steadily now—his last swim is over.” We hauled away an the line with a will, and the mate stood, lance in hand, ready to plunge it into his side, when he shouted, “Stern all—veer away the line, lads!” It was time—up went the flukes of the monster, and in another instant he was sounding, drawing the line out of the tub at a terrific rate. We thought we should have lost him altogether, and we looked anxiously at the line as coil after coil disappeared, and we remembered that we had none to bend on to the end of it. It would have been better for us if he had broken away. Just, however, before the last coil flew out, up he came again, and seemed inclined to go on as before. Then he stopped, and we hauled in on the line. We had got within twenty fathoms of him when all of a sudden an idea seemed to strike him. He slewed completely round so as to face us. “I’ll just give you a taste of my quality, and see if I can’t teach you to let me alone,” he seemed to say. At all events he must have thought it, for with open mouth, showing the tremendous teeth in his lower jaw, and head half lifted out of the water, he made directly at us. Never was a boat in a more perilous position—out of sight of land, and the ship nowhere to be seen, and thus all by ourselves to engage in single combat with a monster so enormous! To get out of his way by mere speed was impossible, for he could swim faster than we could pull; but we did our best to dodge him, our undaunted mate standing ready to plunge a spear into his side should we manage for a moment to get behind him. First, we pulled on one side as he came towards us, and then on the other; but rapidly as we turned, he slewed himself round, and at last, getting us under his snout, he made a dash at the boat, and sent her spinning away twenty yards before him, bottom uppermost, while we all lay scattered round about her, shouting and calling to each other for help. Had he at once gone off, and dragged the boat after him, he would have left us to perish miserably, and this was the fate we dreaded; but instead of that, while we lay holding onto oars, or striking out to regain the boat, he swam round us, examining the mischief he had done. More than once I thought he was going to make another charge at us with his open mouth, when, had he done so, he would have killed one or more, though he might not have swallowed any of us. That I never heard of a whale doing.

We, meantime, made all haste back to the boat, picking up whatever we could lay hands on in our way. We were not a little hurried in our movements by seeing two or more sharks, which had been attracted to the spot by the blood flowing from the monster; and they would just as soon have taken a meal off us as a nibble at him, which is all they would have got for some time, probably.

“Never fear, my lads!” shouted Mr Trevett, the mate. “Strike out with your feet, and heave over the boat. Quick now!—so!—over she comes! We’ll soon have her baled out.”

Baling with hats and caps, as we hung round the gunwale, and striking out with a will, to keep the sharks at a distance, we were enabled to clear the boat sufficiently of water to allow us to get in, just as a big shark, impatient of delay, made a dart at the mate’s leg—for he was the last in—and very nearly caught his foot. We quickly had the boat to rights, but we found that we had lost two very valuable articles—our tinder-box and compass; so that we could neither make a signal to the ship nor tell in what direction to steer should thick or cloudy weather come on. We had, however, no time to meditate on our misfortune, for scarcely were we once more seated on the thwarts, oars in hand, than the whale, as if waiting the signal, started off again, head out, just as he had done before. His speed, however, was very much slackened; and though, after we had hauled in the line a little, he made an attempt to sound, he quickly returned to the surface, still more exhausted by the effort.

At length we managed to get near enough to him to enable Mr Trevett to give him a thrust with his lance. Deep in it went, the monster almost leaping out of the water with the agony of the wound. A vital part had been pierced. “He’s in his flurry! Stern all—stern all!” was shouted. It was time that we were out of his way; for, swimming round and round, he beat the water with his flukes with terrific force, sufficient to have dashed us to atoms had he touched us, throwing the life-blood over us from his spout, and dashing the surrounding ocean, ensanguined with the ruddy stream, into a mass of foam. This mighty convulsion was his last effort. Over he rolled, and he was our well-earned prize.

But now we had killed him, it became a serious question how we were to get back to the ship. In what direction was she to be found? As we looked about, we saw that the weather, which had hitherto been so fine, was evidently about to change. The sky was full of the unmistakable signs of a heavy gale. Long fleecy clouds with curling ends lay scattered over it, and darker masses were banking up rapidly in the southward. We had now ample time to consider our position, as we lay on to the dead whale. We had neither light nor compass, and all our provisions were spoiled or lost. One keg of water alone had been recovered, and we found among us a few quids of tobacco. The nearest islands to the northward were, we knew, inhabited by the very worst description of cannibals, and, though white men occasionally traded with them for provisions, it was necessary to be constantly watchful to prevent surprise. The crews of several vessels not having taken the proper precautions, had been cut off and murdered. Night also was rapidly approaching, and we could not possibly reach the ship, even did we know where to find her, before dark, probably not for several hours. However, the mate, feeling that the first object was to try and save our lives, resolved to pull for the ship, leaving the whale with flags stuck on its side, in the hope that we might again find it. With much regret, therefore, we quitted our hard-earned prize, and pulled away, as we believed, to the northward, in the direction where we had left the ship.

We had not pulled long, however, when the gloom of night came on, and the gale which we had seen brewing burst over the ocean, quickly tearing up its sleeping bosom into foam-crested, tumbling seas, which every instant rose higher and higher. We soon also discovered that we could make no head against them, and that, by attempting to do so, we should only weary ourselves in vain.

“We must put the boat about, and run before it,” said Mr Trevett. “Hoist the lug—haul aft the sheet!” It was done, and away we flew, careering over the fast-rising seas through the pitchy darkness of night!

“Where are we going to?” was the question. Still no other course remained for us to follow. To attempt to head the heavy seas now rising was impossible. No one spoke—a fear of coming evil settled down on our hearts. Darker and darker grew the night—the clouds seemed to come down from the sky and settle close over our heads, meeting the troubled wildly-leaping waves.

On we flew—the seas, as they curled and hissed up alongside of us, tumbling over the gunwale, and making it necessary for all hands to continue baling. Our only hope was that the ship might run before the gale and overtake us; but then we remembered that she probably had a whale alongside, and that the captain would not like to desert it as long as he could hold on. All hope, therefore, of help from man deserted us.

On we went—death every instant threatening us—a death amid that dark, wild, troubled, storm-tossed ocean! At length the fierce roar of the wind and sea seemed to increase. We looked out before us into the darkness. “Breakers!—breakers ahead!” we shouted. A thrill of horror ran through our veins. In another moment we should be dashed to a thousand fragments among the wild rocks over which they so fiercely broke. To attempt to haul off in such a sea would have consigned us to an equally certain fate. The imminence of the danger seemed to sharpen our vision. A mass of foam, which seemed to leap high up into the dark sky, lay before us. Not a moment could a boat live attempting to pass through it. On both sides we turned our anxious gaze, to discover if any spot existed where the sea broke with less violence. Almost simultaneously we shouted, “A passage on the starboard-bow!”

There appeared, if our eyes deceived us not, a dark space where the line of huge breakers was divided. We were rushing headlong to destruction. Not an instant was to be lost. The helm was put to port. We rose on the crest of a vast rolling sea. Down it came, thundering on the rocks on either side of us, throwing over them heavy showers of spray, sufficient almost to swamp us. Still we floated unharmed. The sea rolled on between what, in the darkness, appeared like walls of foam, and in another instant we found ourselves floating beyond the fierce turmoil of waters, just tossed gently by the waves, which found their way over the reef into a large lagoon within it!

A shore fringed with trees lay before us. In five minutes we were landed safely on it, and the boat was secured to the stump of a fallen tree. It was too dark to allow us to attempt to penetrate into the interior, to ascertain the sort of place on which we had been thrown; so, returning to the boat and baling her out, we wrung our wet clothes and lay down to seek that rest we all, after our violent exertions and anxiety, so much needed.

It must have been nearly daylight when we went to sleep. I know not how long we had slept. It would have been better for us had we driven sleep far from our eyelids, and been ready to pull out and wander over the inhospitable ocean the moment the gale abated, rather than have remained where we were. I was the first to open my eyes, and, looking up, I saw to my horror a nearly naked savage looking down into the boat with prying eyes from the bank above us. He was almost jet-black, with negro features and a full beard and moustache. His hair was frizzled out to a great size and covered by a brownish turban. Round his waist he wore the usual maro or kilt, with something like a shawl or plaid over his shoulders; and in his hand he held a long formidable-looking spear. From the turban on his head, I afterwards discovered that he was a chief.

“Eugh! eugh!” he cried, as he saw me opening my eyes to look at him, and his menacing attitude and ferocious aspect made a most uncomfortable feeling creep over me.

“Up, lads, up! and shove off!” I shouted to my companions, jumping forward myself to cut the painter. They started to their feet at my summons, looking up with a bewildered stare at the shore; and well they might so have done, for there stood some twenty or more fierce-looking savages, whom the exclamation of their chief had called to his side, and before we could get the oars out, a shower of spears came rattling down among us. Poor Mr Trevett was pierced through, and fell with a deep groan to the bottom of the boat; another of my companions sprung up as he was struck, and went headlong overboard; others were badly wounded; and one man only besides me was unhurt by the first shower of missiles. Seeing that we still persevered in trying to get the boat off, the savages came rushing down the bank; and though I had cut the painter, before I could give the boat sufficient impetus to get out of their way, they had seized the gunwale and hauled her up on the beach.

All hope of escape was now at an end. We were each of us seized by three or four of the savages, while, by the chief’s directions, two others plunged into the water, and soon returned with the body of the man who had fallen overboard. To my horror, our poor wounded companions were instantly stabbed by these wretches, apparently for no other reason than because they offered some resistance to being dragged roughly along; and thus Brian and I were the only two who remained alive of those who had so lately escaped from the stormy ocean. Some of the savages, I saw, were left to take care of the boat in which the bodies of those who had been killed were placed.

As we climbed to the top of a hill, and I looked back over the blue ocean, now shining brightly in the morning sun, I saw that the storm had ceased; and—I am certain my eyes did not deceive me—I saw in the offing the white canvas of a ship, which I felt sure must be the Drake, probably searching for those who were never to be found.

From the appearance of the people and their cruel proceedings, I had no doubt but that we had fallen on one of the Feejee islands; and, from their well-known character, I knew what our fate would probably be. I myself had little, it might seem, to live for; but still life is dear to all of us, and I considered what I could do to preserve mine. I knew that most savages, as well as eastern nations, look upon a person deprived of his intellect as sacred, so I at once resolved to act the madman. On this, summoning all my strength, I gave vent to the loudest roar I could utter, finishing with a burst of laughter; and when my guards, in their surprise, let me go, I started forward, leaping, and singing, and dancing, with the greatest extravagance, pointing to the way I saw the chief was going, and pretending to conduct him with many bows and flourishes worthy of a French dancing-master. Desperate as the device was, it appeared to have its effect, for neither the chief nor any of his companions again attempted to interfere with me, though they dragged poor Brian on as before. He, of course, could not make out what had happened to me, and I could not venture to advise him to imitate my conduct, as I thought, very probably, should I do so, that both of us would fail in saving our lives by it. He, however, seeing the fate which had befallen our companions by refusing to walk on willingly, proceeded wherever his guards chose to lead him.

After passing through woods and large patches of cultivated ground, we reached a village of considerable size, and were led to what I supposed was the house of the principal chief, the father of the young man who had captured us. It stood on a raised platform of stone, and was built entirely of wood, with elliptical ends, the beams ornamented with coloured cocoa-nut plait. The side walls were solid, with windows, the frames of which were bound together to represent a kind of fluting, and which had a very ornamented appearance. The interior was divided into several compartments by screens of native cloth dyed with turmeric; and as the children and several of the people were painted with the same pigment, the whole had a very yellow appearance. The front and back of the edifice were formed of long laths, bent like a bow, and thatched with cocoa-nut leaves, something like the front of some bathing-machines in England. Under the roof, supported by beams, was a floor of lattice-work, which seemed to be the store-room of the house, as bundles of cloth and articles of various sorts were piled up there; while on the ground were scattered different utensils for cooking or eating from—such as bowls of glazed crockery of native manufacture, and plenty of well-made mats. On one of the walls were hung up some strings of whale teeth—articles which pass for money among those people.

At one end of the chief hall, on a pile of mats, sat a stout old man, with a huge turban and large beard and moustache, and wrapped in thick folds of native cloth. Savage as he looked, there was a good deal of dignity and intelligence about him. Keeping up the character I had assumed, I instantly began to salaam, as I had seen the Moors do, and to turn about on one leg, and then to leap and spring up, and clap my hands, singing out “Whallop-ado-ahoo!—Erin-go-bragh!” at the top of my voice, in a way to astonish the natives, if it did not gain their respect. My heart all the time felt as if it would break with shame and terror—with shame, at having to behave so, and with terror, lest I should, after all, not succeed.

The old chief and the young one, with the people who accompanied him, had a great deal of conversation about us, I found—the old one remarking that we had both of us “salt water in our eye,” and must submit to the law. Now, by the law, or rather custom, of the Feejees, every person cast on shore on their coasts is killed and eaten! I had numberless proofs of the truth of this.

The result of the conversation about me was, that I was tabooed—to be held sacred, as it were—and that my life was to be spared. They tried to make me understand this at the time, and I partly comprehended their meaning. To prove their sincerity, the old chief had a number of dishes of various sorts of vegetables and fruit brought in, with a young pig baked whole, of which he made me partake. This I did very willingly, for I was very hungry, and the viands looked very tempting. When I had eaten a good meal, I jumped up and shook the old chief and his son very heartily by the hand; and then sitting down on a mat, I threw myself back, and began singing away at the top of my voice, as if I had been perfectly contented with my lot. When, however, I got up to leave the house, signs were made to me that I was to stay where I was. This, I concluded, was that notice might be given to the people that I was tabooed, and that they were not to interfere with me, or I should in all probability have been clubbed by the first native I met, who might have suspected that I had been cast upon their shore by the late gale.

I felt very anxious to ascertain what had become of Brian. He had not been allowed to enter the chief’s house with me, but, as we approached the village, had been led off in a different direction. Suspecting the horrible practice of the savages, and hearing nothing of him as the day grew on, I became very much alarmed for his safety.

At night a mat was pointed out to me on which I was to sleep; but it was long before I could close my eyes, and every instant I expected to find myself seized and carried off by the savages. I did sleep, however, at last, and the next morning I found myself at liberty to wander out where I pleased. Food was first brought to me, and then, having performed various curious antics to keep up the belief of my insanity, I left the house and took the way up a neighbouring hill.

I had not gone far before I came to what was evidently a native temple, shaded by tall and graceful trees. It was a high-pointed building, formed of bamboos, and hung with strings of bones and screens of native cloth. I saw arms of various sorts, and an altar with two human skulls on it, made into drinking cups. I was considering how I could find my poor companion, when, near the temple, I entered an open space with several small erections of stone, which I discovered on examination were ovens. In the centre of the space was what I took at first to be the figure of a man cut out of wood, and painted over in a curious way with many colours. I went up to it. Horror almost overcame me—I recognised the countenance of my lost companion Brian! while some clothes hung up on poles hard by, and some human bones scattered under them, showed me what had been the fate of the rest of our boat’s crew. I rushed shrieking from the spot, and for many a day I had no occasion to feign madness—I really was, I believe, out of my mind.