 | CHAPTER I.
A conversation between Robin Day and his friend Captain Brown,
in which the latter throws some light upon the adventure of the
highwayman. The adventures of Robin Day |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
A conversation between Robin Day and his friend Captain Brown,
in which the latter throws some light upon the adventure of the
highwayman.
Much as I had reason to fear and detest this
remarkable personage, Captain Brown, by whom I
had been so basely defrauded and cheated into a participation
in knavery, and who, I had cause from
his own confessions, to believe was, or had once
been, a noted pirate; yet my feelings at sight of
him mingled something like satisfaction with my
fear and resentment. I was so forlorn and helpless
in the midst of embarrassment and danger, so much
in want of a friend to counsel and assist me, that
even Captain Hellcat's countenance appeared to me
desirable: at such a moment, I could have accepted
the friendship almost of Old Nick himself. He had
done me a great deal of mischief, to be sure; but, in
my present situation, it was scarce possible he could
do me any more. From his courage and worldly
almost looked upon him as a friend, though a mischievous
and dangerous one—much was to be expected:
and, besides, our adventures together had
established a kind of community of interests between
us, at least to a certain extent, (were we not house-robbers
and runaways together?) which, I thought,
must ensure me his good offices, at this moment of
difficulty and distress. I resolved, in a word, having
no other way to help myself, to throw myself
upon his friendship, and trust to him for rescue from
the dangers that beset me.
Yet I could not avoid opening upon him in terms
of reproach; the more particularly as he followed
up his first questions by demanding, with another
laugh as obstreperous as the first, “what curse of a
scrape I had got myself into now? and why I sat
there gasping on the river-bank, like a stranded
catfish?”
“Sir,” said I, “whatever scrape I have got into,
is all owing to you, who imposed upon my ignorance
so grossly, and so brought me to ruin.” And
I could scarce avoid again bursting into tears, at the
thought of it.
“I bring you to ruin?” quoth Captain Brown;
“why, hang me, you look very comfortable, considering
all things; and I don't think the first lieutenant
of the Lovely Nancy, d'ye see, intends to
break his heart for a small matter.”
“You may call it a small matter, Mr. Hellcat,
or whatever you entitle yourself,” said I, nettled
into courage by the grin of derision, with which he
emphasized the title of first lieutenant—“to pass
yourself off for another man,” (Captain Hellcat
grinned harder than ever,) “to open letters not addressed
to you—”
“Only a hundred dollars, shiver my timbers!”
quoth he, the grin becoming still broader —.
“And, after cheating me so unhandsomely, to
make me an accomplice in a house-robbery, to the
ruin of my character, and almost the loss of my life;
for, I assure you, I escaped from Mr. Bloodmoney's
house almost by a miracle.”
“Did you? by—” but the oath may be omitted:
—“did you, indeed?” cried Captain Brown, with
another explosion of merriment—“and so did I; it
was only by knocking out the watchman's brains
with a poker, and —”
“Good Heavens!” said I, starting with horror,
“you did not commit a murder?”
“No,” said Captain Brown, innocently—“only
knocked out the brains of a watchman, and stabbed
one of the niggers.”
“And if these are not murders,” said I, petrified,
“what is?”
“What is?” quoth Captain Hellcat, giving me a
ferocious stare—“why, d—n my blood, stopping
the weasand of a crying baby—drowning a woman
at sea—twisting the neck of your own brother—
there's a kind of murder for you, split me; but
there's plenty more, when you come to think of it;
such as defrauding widows, robbing orphans, belying
honest men, grinding the face of the poor, and stabbing
men in the dark—all murder, that, d—n my
blood, and bloody murder too! But as for breaking
a head, or sticking a gizzard, in open fight, why that's
all fair and square, and above board, split my timbers.”
“But you don't mean to say,” quoth I almost
“that you killed the watchman and the negro?”
“I'll be hang'd,” said captain Brown, “if I know
what was the end of it; for d'ye see, I left them in
a sort of tornado, having neither time nor weather
for observations. But, I say, my hearty, how did
you slip your moorings? and what brings you into
these sand-fly latitudes?”
“You brought me here,” said I, with a sigh: “I
fled here to escape the consequences of your imposition—to
avoid arrest, imprisonment, shame and
ruin. You see me now what you have made me, a
fugitive from the laws.”
“Shiver my topsails,” said Captain Hellcat, “but
you speak as if that was a great matter! Where's
the difference. You don't think Bloodmoney and
the constables are still after you?”
“I don't know but they are,” I replied; adding—
“But that is not the worst of my misfortunes.”
And here I hastened to explain the later evils into
which I had fallen, and all which I properly laid to
his door—my unlucky treason, the narrow escape I
had just had from the court-martial, and the danger
I was still in, a story, which, told in few words and
with all the energy of distress, only renewed the
mirth of Mr. Jack Brown, alias Captain Hellcat,
who swore I was “a rum one, born to die on salt
water; or, why, I must have been triced up by Jack
Ketch long ago.”
“And so you think there's nobody in a pickle
but yourself?” he added, with profane emphasis,
and laughing furiously; “I'll be hang'd if you a'n't
mistaken though. Here am I, your commander,
split me, making foul weather enough to sink an
Injieman, with great-guns blowing on one quarter
and hellcats spitting on the other, a white squall
as a pig does of a mizzen-top, no chart aboard, logline
lost overboard, sextant broken all to smash, and
the compass gone to the devil. Here comes I down
hereaway, an honest man, to fight the battles of my
country; and, split me, didn't I offer the same thing
in Philadelphia? and a fine return I got for my venture.
There's Bloodmoney, sink him! first turned
me the cold shoulder, and then would have clapp'd
me in the bilboes, for playing him a little bit of an
innocent trick, split me:” (“A very innocent little
trick!” thought I, amazed at the cool composure
with which he spoke of that adventure:) “and so,
shiver me, I had to slip my cable, and leave their
cursed Quaker port under a press of canvass. Then
brings I up here at Norfolk, to fight the bloody
British, along with the lubberly milishy; and, hang
me, I could have shown them what fighting was,
either at long shots with the great guns, or at close
quarters with pistol, hanger, and Spanish-knife,
whereof I knows the use; when, as Davy Jones
would have it, who should come up but a dog-faced
villain named Duck —”
“Skipper Duck?” cried I, interrupting mine
honest friend, now extremely earnest and eloquent
in his relation. But earnestness and eloquence
vanished at the interruption; and he turned upon
me, with another roar of laughter, to which he
seemed ever uncommonly prone.
“What! you know Skipper Duck then?” he
cried; “an honest dog as ever lived, may the sharks
eat him!”
“As big a knave as ever went unhanged!” said I;
and immediately informed him how my present
dangers were all owing to the malice of Duck, who
though with no evil intention, committed.
“Exactly my own case, shiver me!” cried Captain
Brown, laughing harder than ever: “Up comes
the lubber, that was one of my dirty dogs of old,
and spins his yarn to the Posse Come-atibus, or
Come-at-us, or whatever you call it; and then there
was a hellaballoo; for, sink me, says he, d'ye see,
`Here 's Hellcat the pirate'—the horse-marine! So
there was no cruising longer in them latitudes,
d'ye see; and away I scuds, a ship in distress, with
a whole fleet of small-craft land-thieves peppering
after me; for, hang me, them cursed Britishers have
brought them down hereaway as thick as landcrabs
on a sea-beach. And in the midst of the row, up
comes another enemy on the weather bow, and
claims the very ship I sails on—my horse, split me—
as honestly borrowed as need be; and then there
was another storm about my ears; and it was, on
one side, `stop pirate!' and, on the other, `stop
thief!' and all that. And here I am, my skillagallee,
in as dirty a kettle of fish as may be; and here are
you, in another; and here we are both of us, hard
chased, a regiment of Jack Ketches under full sail
behind, and a whole forest of gallows-trees around
us.”
Here Captain Brown paused to take breath, and
to indulge another peal of laughter. His account
increased my dismay, for, it was evident, his presence
only doubled my perils, by adding those peculiar
to himself; and, it was equally clear, if arrested,
I should gain nothing by being caught in his company.
Here, then, was a man who made no attempt
to conceal that he was a rogue and reprobate of the
highest—or lowest—grade, whom I had known, to
my cost, a swindler and burglar, and who was, from
probably, a murderer; who was, besides, closely
pursued, and in momentary danger of arrest; and
who was of so callous and hardened a nature as to
make mirth equally of his danger and his crimes.
From association with such a wretch I should, at
another moment, have revolted with horror; as,
even now, I felt I ought to do. But, alas! my fears
conquered my scruples. The very indifference with
which he spoke of his villanies and perils, his furious
mirth and savage gayety, proved a consciousness
of power to escape all embarrassments—a power of
which my necessities urged me to accept the advantage.
It was better even to be the comrade of Captain
Hellcat than to be hanged, or shot, by a court
martial. Besides, I felt that I was already, in a
measure, degraded: why then should I recoil, as one
with an untarnished reputation might have done,
from the profit of another step in dishonour?
It is, alas! such a consideration that confirms the
ruin of half the rogues in the universe. Reputation
is the Palladium of virtue, (where religion has not
substituted a diviner bulwark;) and it is scarce possible
to lose it, or think we have lost it, without
slackening in the defence of integrity.
“Alas, what is to be done?” I cried; “we shall
be caught and condemned to death.”
“Speak for yourself!” said Captain Brown: “as
for me, I've no notion of any such cursed nonsense.
And as for being outnavigated, or outwitted, by any
snubface of a landsman, why there, my skilligallee,
you're out of your reckoning.”
“I hope, Captain Brown,” said I, “you won't
desert me.”
“Desert you, my hearty!” quoth Brown, “I
never deserted a shipmate, that was willing to stand
on board the Lovely Nancy, and I mean to
stick by the articles. But, I say, you Bob Lucky—”
“Robin Day,” said I.
“Well, Mr. Robin Day, I say, have you any idea
how to play nigger? Look you, my lad,” he added,
seeing that I did not understand the question, “I'm
for a voyage to see the world, sink me—that is, the
land part of it; and I goes under false colours; and
why, d'ye see, can't you?”
“Sir,” said I, “I'll do whatever you tell me; provided
it is not criminal. And I give you to understand,”
I added, boldly, “that I will neither steal
horses, nor rob houses, nor knock out watchmen's
brains, nor stab negroes, nor—”
“Hold fast there,” cried Brown, laughing, “I
intend to try an honest life myself, shiver my timbers,
for I loves variety.”
And he directed me to hold his bridle, which he,
without leaving the horse, proceeded to effect some
changes in his outward appearance, for the purposes
of disguise. The first thing he did was to clap to
his face a set of false whiskers and beard, extremely
huge and ferocious looking, and yet so natural withal,
that no one would have suspected they were placed
there in any other mode than by the natural process
of growth; and it was wonderful the change they
made in his appearance.
The transformation was to me the more astonishing,
as I immediately recognised in the hairy visage
the grim looks of the highwayman—that identical
villain, who, at the beginning of my misfortunes, in
the night of flight, had made the unsuccessful attack on
the purses of Dicky Dare and myself, and succeeded
in shifting the charge of his crime upon me, and running
off with Bay Tom and my saddlebags.
| CHAPTER I.
A conversation between Robin Day and his friend Captain Brown,
in which the latter throws some light upon the adventure of the
highwayman. The adventures of Robin Day | |