 | CHAPTER VII. The Red Rover |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
“The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.”
Apoth. “My poverty, but not my will, consents.”
Romeo and Juliet.
The Rover arrested his step, as the other disappeared,
and stood for more than a minute in an attitude
of high and self-gratulating triumph. It was
quite apparent he was exulting in his success. But,
though his intelligent face betrayed the satisfaction
of the inward man, it was illumined by no expression
of vulgar joy. It was the countenance of one
who was suddenly relieved from intense care, rather
than that of a man who was greedy of profiting by
the services of others. Indeed, it would not have
been difficult, for a close and practised observer, to
have detected a shade of regret in the lightings of
his seductive smile, or in the momentary flashes of
his changeful eye. The feeling, however, quickly
passed away, and his whole figure and countenance
indulged in his hours of retirement.
After allowing sufficient time for the boy to conduct
Wilder to the necessary cabin, and to put him
in possession of the regulations for the police of the
ship, the Captain again touched the gong, and once
more summoned the former to his presence. The lad
had, however, to approach the elbow of his master,
and to speak thrice, before the other was conscious
that he had answered his call.
“Roderick,” said the Rover, after a long pause,
“are you there?”
“I am here,” returned a low, and seemingly a
mournful voice.
“Ah! you gave him the regulations?”
“I did.”
“And he reads?”
“He reads.”
“It is well. I would speak to the General. Roderick,
you must have need of rest; good night; let
the General be summoned to a council, and—Good
night, Roderick.”
The boy made an assenting reply; but, instead of
springing, with his former alacrity, to execute the order,
he lingered a moment nigh his master's chair.
Failing, however, in his wish to catch his eye, he
slowly and reluctantly descended the stairs which
led into the lower cabins, and was seen no more.
It is needless to describe the manner in which the
General made his second appearance. It differed
in no particular from his former entrée, except that,
on this occasion, the whole of his person was developed.
He appeared a tall, upright form, that was
far from being destitute of natural grace and proportions,
but which had been so exquisitely drilled into
simultaneous movement, that the several members
had so far lost the power of volition, as to render it
impossible for one to stir, without producing something
This rigid and well-regulated personage, after
making a formal military bow to his superior, helped
himself to a chair, in which, after some little time
lost in preparation, he seated himself in silence.
The Rover seemed conscious of his presence; for
he acknowledged his salute by a gentle inclination
of his own head; though he did not appear to think
it necessary to suspend his ruminations the more on
that account. At length, however, he turned short
upon his companion, and said abruptly,—
“General, the campaign is not finished.”
“What remains? the field is won, and the enemy
is a prisoner.”
“Ay, your part of the adventure is well achieved,
but much of mine remains to be done. You saw
the youth in the lower cabin?”
“I did.”
“And how find you his appearance?”
“Maritime.”
“That is as much as to say, you like him not.”
“I like discipline.”
“I am much mistaken if you do not find him to
your taste on the quarter-deck. Let that be as it
may, I have still a favour to ask of you!”
“A favour!—it is getting late.”
“Did I say `a favour?' there is duty to be yet
done.”
“I wait your orders.”
“It is necessary that we use great precaution;
for, as you know”—
“I wait your orders,” laconically repeated the
other.
The Rover compressed his mouth, and a scornful
smile struggled about the nether lip; but it changed
into a look half bland, half authoritative, as he continued,—
“You will find two seamen, in a skiff, alongside
These men you will have conducted into the vessel—into
one of the forward state-rooms—and you
will have them both thoroughly intoxicated.”
“It shall be done,” returned he who was called
the General, rising, and marching with long strides
towards the door of the cabin.
“Pause a moment,” exclaimed the Rover; “what
agent will you use?”
“Nightingale has the strongest head but one in
the ship.”
“He is too far gone already. I sent him ashore,
to look about for any straggling seamen who might
like our service; and I found him in a tavern, with
all the fastenings off his tongue, declaiming like a
lawyer who had taken a fee from both parties.
Besides, he had a quarrel with one of these very
men, and it is probable they would get to blows in
their cups.”
“I will do it myself. My night-cap is waiting for
me; and it is only to lace it a little tighter than
common.”
The Rover seemed content with this assurance;
for he expressed his satisfaction with a familiar nod
of the head. The soldier was now about to depart,
when he was again interrupted.—
“One thing more, General; there is your captive.”—
“Shall I make him drunk too?”
“By no means. Let him be conducted hither.”
The General made an ejaculation of assent, and
left the cabin. “It were weak,” thought the Rover,
as he resumed his walk up and down the apartment,
“to trust too much to an ingenuous face and youthful
enthusiasm. I am deceived if the boy has not
had reason to think himself disgusted with the world,
and ready to embark in any romantic enterprise;
but, still, to be deceived might be fatal; therefore
tied in an extraordinary manner to these two seamen.
I would I knew his history. But all that
will come in proper time. The men must remain
as hostages for his own return, and for his faith. If
he prove false, why, they are seamen;—and many
men are expended in this wild service of ours! It
is well arranged; and no suspicion of any plot on
our part will wound the sensitive pride of the boy,
if he be, as I would gladly think, a true man.”
Such was, in a great manner, the train of thought
in which the Rover indulged, for many minutes,
after his military companion had left him. His lips
moved; smiles, and dark shades of thought, in turn,
chased each other from his speaking countenance,
which betrayed all the sudden and violent changes
that denote the workings of a busy spirit within.
While thus engrossed in mind, his step became more
rapid, and, at times, he gesticulated a little extravagantly,
when he found himself, in a sudden turn,
unexpectedly confronted by a form that seemed to
rise on his sight like a vision.
While most engaged in his own humours, two
powerful seamen had, unheeded, entered the cabin;
and, after silently depositing a human figure in a seat,
they withdrew without speaking. It was before this
personage that the Rover now found himself. The
gaze was mutual, long, and uninterrupted by a syllable
from either party. Surprise and indecision held
the Rover mute, while wonder and alarm appeared
to have literally frozen the faculties of the other. At
length the former, suffering a quaint and peculiar
smile to gleam for a moment across his countenance,
said abruptly,—
“I welcome sir Hector Homespun!”
The eyes of the confounded tailor—for it was no
other than that garrulous acquaintance of the reader
who had fallen into the toils of the Rover—the
in their wanderings, the medley of elegance
and warlike preparation that they every where met,
never failing to return, from each greedy look, to
devour the figure that stood before him.
“I say, Welcome, sir Hector Homespun!” repeated
the Rover.
“The Lord will be lenient to the sins of a miserable
father of seven small children!” ejaculated the
tailor. “It is but little, valiant Pirate, that can be
gotten from a hard-working, upright tradesman, who
sits from the rising to the setting sun, bent over his
labour.”
“These are debasing terms for chivalry, sir Hector,”
interrupted the Rover, laying his hand on the
little riding whip, which had been thrown carelessly
on the cabin table, and, tapping the shoulder of the
tailor with the same, as though he were a sorcerer,
and would disenchant the other with the touch:
“Cheer up, honest and loyal subject: Fortune has at
length ceased to frown: it is but a few hours since
you complained that no custom came to your shop
from this vessel, and now are you in a fair way to do
the business of the whole ship.”
“Ah! honourable and magnanimous Rover,” rejoined
Homespun, whose fluency returned with his
senses, “I am an impoverished and undone man.
My life has been one of weary and probationary
hardships. Five bloody and cruel wars”—
“Enough. I have said that Fortune was just beginning
to smile. Clothes are as necessary to gentlemen
of our profession as to the parish priest. You
shall not baste a seam without your reward. Behold!”
he added, touching the spring of a secret
drawer, which flew open, and discovered a confused
pile of gold, in which the coins of nearly every
Christian people were blended, “we are not without
the means of paying those who serve us faithfully.”
The sudden exhibition of a horde of wealth, which
not only greatly exceeded any thing of the kind he
had ever before witnessed, but which actually surpassed
his limited imaginative powers, was not without
its effect on the sensitive feelings of the good-man.
After feasting on the sight, for the few moments
that his companion left the treasure exposed
to view, he turned to the envied possessor of so
much gold, and demanded,—the tones of increased
confidence gradually stealing into his voice, as the
inward man felt additional motives of encouragement,—
“And what am I expected to perform, mighty
Seaman, for my portion of this wealth?”
“That which you daily perform on the land—to
cut, to fashion, and to sew. Perhaps, too, your talent
at a masquerade dress may be taxed, from time
to time.”
“Ah! they are lawless and irreligious devices of
the enemy, to lead men into sin and worldly abominations.
But, worthy Mariner, there is my disconsolate
consort, Desire; though stricken in years, and
given to wordy strife, yet is she the lawful partner
of my bosom, and the mother of a numerous offspring.”
“She shall not want. This is an asylum for distressed
husbands. Your men, who have not force
enough to command at home, come to my ship as to
a city of refuge. You will make the seventh who has
found peace by fleeing to this sanctuary. Their families
are supported by ways best known to ourselves,
and all parties are content. This is not the least of
my benevolent acts.”
“It is praiseworthy and just, honourable Captain;
and I hope that Desire and her offspring may not be
forgotten. The labourer is surely worthy of his hire;
and if, peradventure, I should toil in your behalf,
and her young, may fatten on your liberality.”
“You have my word; they shall not be neglected.”
“Perhaps, just Gentleman, if an allotment should
be made in advance from that stock of gold, the
mind of my consort would be relieved, her inquiries
after my fate not so searching, and her spirit less
troubled. I have reason to understand the temper
of Desire; and am well identified, that, while the
prospect of want is before her eyes, there will be a
clamour in Newport. Now that the Lord has graciously
given me the hopes of a respite, there can be
no sin in wishing to enjoy it in peace.”
Although the Rover was far from believing, with
his captive, that the tongue of Desire could disturb
the harmony of his ship, he was in the humour to be
indulgent. Touching the spring again, he took a
handful of the gold, and, extending it towards Home-spun,
demanded,—
“Will you take the bounty, and the oath? The
money will then be your own.”
“The Lord defend us from the evil one, and deliver
us all from temptation!” ejaculated the tailor:
“Heroic Rover, I have a dread of the law. Should
any evil overcome you, in the shape of a King's
cruiser, or a tempest cast you on the land, there
might be danger in being contaminated too closely
with your crew. Any little services which I may
render, on compulsion, will be overlooked, I humbly
hope; and I trust to your magnanimity, honest and
honourable Commander, that the same will not be
forgotten in the division of your upright earnings.”
“This is but the spirit of cabbaging, a little distorted,”
muttered the Rover, as he turned lightly on
his heel, and tapped the gong, with an impatience
that sent the startling sound through every cranny of
the ship. Four or five heads were thrust in at the different
heard, desiring to know the wishes of their leader.
“Take him to his hammock,” was the quick,
sudden order.
The good-man Homespun, who, from fright or
policy, appeared to be utterly unable to move, was
quickly lifted from his seat, and conveyed to the
door which communicated with the quarter-deck.
“Pause,” he exclaimed to his unceremonious
bearers, as they were about to transport him to the
place designated by their Captain; “I have one
word yet to say. Honest and loyal Rebel, though I
do not accept your service, neither do I refuse it in
an unseemly and irreverent manner. It is a sore
temptation, and I feel it at my fingers' ends. But a
covenant may be made between us, by which neither
party shall be a loser, and in which the law shall
find no grounds of displeasure. I would wish,
mighty Commodore, to carry an honest name to my
grave, and I would also wish to live out the number
of my days; for, after having passed with so much
credit, and unharmed, through five bloody and cruel
wars”—
“Away with him!” was the stern and startling
interruption.
Homespun vanished, as though magic had been
employed in transporting him, and the Rover was
again left to himself. His meditations were not interrupted,
for a long time, by human footstep or
voice. That breathing stillness, which unbending
and stern discipline can alone impart, pervaded the
ship. A landsman, seated in the cabin, might have
fancied himself, although surrounded by a crew of
lawless and violent men, in the solitude of a deserted
church, so suppressed, and deadened, were even
those sounds that were absolutely necessary. There
were heard at times, it is true, the high and harsh
notes of some reveller who appeared to break forth
from the depths of the vessel, and were not very
musical in themselves, broke on the silence like the
first discordant strains of a new practitioner on a
bugle. But even these interruptions gradually grew
less frequent, and finally became inaudible. At
length the Rover heard a hand fumbling about the
handle of the cabin door, and then his military friend
once more made his appearance.
There was that in the step, the countenance, and
the whole air of the General, which proclaimed
that his recent service, if successful, had not been
achieved entirely without personal hazard. The
Rover, who had started from his seat the moment he
saw who had entered, instantly demanded his report.
“The white is so drunk, that he cannot lie down
without holding on to the mast; but the negro is
either a cheat, or his head is made of flint.”
“I hope you have not too easily abandoned the
design.”
“I would as soon batter a mountain! my retreat
was not made a minute too soon.”
The Rover fastened his eyes on the General, for a
moment, in order to assure himself of the precise
condition of his subaltern, ere he replied,—
“It is well. We will now retire for the night.”
The other carefully dressed his tall person, and
brought his face in the direction of the little hatch-way
so often named. Then, by a sort of desperate
effort, he essayed to march to the spot, with his customary
upright mien and military step. As one or
two erratic movements, and crossings of the legs,
were not commented on by his Captain, the worthy
martinet descended the stairs, as he believed, with
sufficient dignity; the moral man not being in the
precise state which is the best adapted to discover
any little blunders that might be made by his physical
coadjutor. The Rover looked at his watch; and,
of the General, he stepped lightly on the stairs,
and descended also.
The lower apartments of the vessel, though less
striking in their equipments than the upper cabin,
were arranged with great attention to neatness and
comfort. A few offices for the servants occupied
the extreme after-part of the ship, communicating
by doors with the dining apartment of the secondary
officers; or, as it was called in technical language,
the “ward-room.” On either side of this, again, were
the state-rooms, an imposing name, by which the
dormitories of those who are entitled to the honours
of the quarter-deck are ever called. Forward of
the ward-room, came the apartments of the minor
officers; and, immediately in front of them, the
corps of the individual who was called the General
was lodged, forming, by their discipline, a barrier between
the more lawless seamen and their superiors.
There was little departure, in this disposition of
the accommodations, from the ordinary arrangements
of vessels of war of the same description and force
as the “Rover;” but Wilder had not failed to remark,
that the bulkheads which separated the cabins
from the birth-deck, or the part occupied by the
crew, were far stouter than common, and that a
small howitzer was at hand, to be used, as a physician
might say, internally, should occasion require.
The doors were of extraordinary strength, and the
means of barricadoing them resembled more a preparation
for battle, than the usual securities against
petty encroachments on private property. Muskets,
blunderbusses, pistols, sabres, half-pikes, &c., were
fixed to the beams and carlings, or were made to
serve as ornaments against the different bulkheads.
in a profusion that plainly told they were there as
much for use as for show. In short, to the eye of a
seaman, the whole betrayed a state of things, in
against the violence and insubordination of their inferiors,
depended on their influence and their ability
to resist, united; and that the former had not deemed
it prudent to neglect any of the precautions which
might aid their comparatively less powerful physical
force.
In the principal of the lower apartments, or the
ward-room, the Rover found his newly enlisted lieutenant,
apparently busy in studying the regulations
of the service in which he had just embarked. Approaching
the corner in which the latter had seated
himself, the former said, in a frank, encouraging, and
even confidential manner,—
“I hope you find our laws sufficiently firm, Mr
Wilder.”
“Want of firmness is not their fault; if the same
quality can always be observed in administering
them, it is well,” returned the other, rising to salute
his superior. “I have never found such rigid rules,
even in”—
“Even in what, sir?” demanded the Rover, perceiving
that his companion hesitated.
“I was about to say, `Even in his Majesty's service,'
” returned Wilder, slightly colouring. “I know
not whether it may be a fault, or a recommendation,
to have served in a King's ship.”
“It is the latter; at least I, for one, should
think it so, since I learned my trade in the same
service.”
“In what ship?” eagerly interrupted Wilder.
“In many,” was the cold reply. “But, speaking
of rigid rules, you will soon perceive, that, in a service
where there are no courts on shore to protect us,
nor any sister-cruisers to look after each other's welfare,
no small portion of power is necessarily vested
in the Commander. You find my authority a good
deal extended.”
“A little unlimited,” said Wilder, with a smile
that might have passed for ironical.
“I hope you will have no occasion to say that it
is arbitrarily executed,” returned the Rover, without
observing, or perhaps without letting it appear that
he observed, the expression of his companion's countenance.
“But your hour is come, and you are now
at liberty to land.”
The young man thanked him, with a courteous inclination
of the head, and expressed his readiness to
go. As they ascended the ladder into the upper
cabin, the Captain expressed his regret that the hour,
and the necessity of preserving the incognito of his
ship, would not permit him to send an officer of his
rank ashore in the manner he could wish.
“But then there is the skiff, in which you came
off, still alongside, and your own two stout fellows
will soon twitch you to yon point. A propos of
those two men, are they included in our arrangements?”
“They have never quitted me since my childhood,
and would not wish to do it now.”
“It is a singular tie that unites two men, so oddly
constituted, to one so different, by habits and education,
from themselves,” returned the Rover, glancing
his eye keenly at the other, and withdrawing it the
instant he perceived his interest in the answer was
observed.
“It is,” Wilder calmly replied; “but, as we are
all seamen, the difference is not so great as one
would at first imagine. I will now join them, and
take an opportunity to let them know that they are
to serve in future under your orders.”
The Rover suffered him to leave the cabin, following
to the quarter-deck, with a careless step, as
if he had come abroad to breathe the open air of the
night.
The weather had not changed, but it still continued
before reigned on the decks of the ship; and nowhere,
with a solitary exception, was a human form
to be seen, amid the collection of dark objects that
rose on the sight, all of which Wilder well understood
to be necessary fixtures in the vessel. The
exception was the same individual who had first
received our adventurer, and who still paced the
quarter-deck, wrapped, as before, in a watch-coat.
To this personage the youth now addressed himself,
announcing his intention temporarily to quit the vessel.
His communication was received with a respect
that satisfied him his new rank was already known,
although, as it would seem, it was to be made to
succumb to the superior authority of the Rover.
“You know, sir, that no one, of whatever station,
can leave the ship at this hour, without an order
from the Captain,” was the civil, but steady reply.
“So I presume; but I have the order, and transmit
it to you. I shall land in my own boat.”
The other, seeing a figure within hearing, which
he well knew to be that of his Commander, waited
an instant, to ascertain if what he heard was true.
Finding that no objection was made, nor any sign
given, to the countrary, he merely indicated the place
where the other would find his boat.
“The men have left it!” exclaimed Wilder, stepping
back in surprise, as he was about to descend
the vessel's side.
“Have the rascals run?”
“Sir, they have not run; neither are they rascals.
They are in this ship, and must be found.”
The other waited, to witness the effect of these
authoritative words, too, on the individual, who still
lingered in the shadow of a mast. As no answer
was, however, given from that quarter, he saw the
necessity of obedience. Intimating his intention to
seek the men, he passed into the forward parts of
possession of the quarter-deck. The latter was,
however, soon undeceived. The Rover, advancing
carelessly to his side, made an allusion to the condition
of his vessel, in order to divert the thoughts
of his new lieutenant, who, by his hurried manner of
pacing the deck, he saw, was beginning to indulge
in uneasy meditations.
“A charming sea-boat, Mr Wilder,” he continued,
“and one that never throws a drop of spray abaft
her mainmast. She is just the craft a seaman loves;
easy on her rigging, and lively in a sea. I call her
the `Dolphin,' from the manner in which she cuts
the water; and, perhaps, because she has as many
colours as that fish, you will say—Jack must have a
name for his ship, you know, and I dislike your cut-throat
appellations, your `Spit-fires' and `Bloody-murders.'
”
“You were fortunate in finding such a vessel.
Was she built to your orders?”
“Few ships, under six hundred tons, sail from
these colonies, that are not built to serve my purposes,”
returned the Rover, with a smile; as if he
would cheer his companion, by displaying the mine
of wealth that was opening to him, through the new
connexion he had made. “This vessel was originally
built for his Most Faithful Majesty; and, I believe,
was either intended as a present or a scourge to the
Algerines; but—but she has changed owners, as you
see, and her fortune is a little altered; though how,
or why, is a trifle with which we will not, just now,
divert ourselves. I have had her in port; she has
undergone some improvements, and is now altogether
suited to a running trade.”
“You then venture, sometimes, inside the forts?”
“When you have leisure, my private journal may
afford some interest,” the other evasively replied.
state that a seaman need not blush for her?”
“Her beauty and neatness first caught my eye,
and induced me to make closer inquiries into her
character.”
“You were quick in seeing that she was kept at a
single anchor!” returned the other, laughing. “But
I never risk any thing without a reason; not even
the loss of my ground tackle. It would be no great
achievement, for so warm a battery as this I carry,
to silence yonder apology for a fort; but, in doing it,
we might receive an unfortunate hit, and therefore
do I keep ready for an instant departure.”
“It must be a little awkward, to fight in a war
where one cannot lower his flag in any emergency!”
said Wilder; more like one who mused, than one
who intended to express the opinion aloud.
“The bottom is always beneath us,” was the laconic
answer. “But to you I may say, that I am,
on principle, tender on my spars. They are examined
daily, like the heels of a racer; for it often
happens that our valour must be well-tempered by
discretion.”
“And how, and where, do you refit, when damaged
in a gale, or in a fight?”
“Hum! We contrive to refit, sir, and to take the
sea in tolerable condition.”
He stopped; and Wilder, perceiving that he was
not yet deemed entitled to entire confidence, continued
silent. In this pause, the officer returned, followed
by the black alone. A few words served to
explain the condition of Fid. It was very apparent
that the young man was not only disappointed, but
that he was deeply mortified. The frank and ingenuous
air, however, with which he turned to the Rover,
to apologize for the dereliction of his follower,
satisfied the latter that he was far from suspecting
condition.
“You know the character of seamen too well,
sir,” he said, “to impute this oversight to my poor
fellow as a heinous fault. A better sailor never lay
on a yard, or stretched a ratlin, than Dick Fid; but
I must allow he has the quality of good fellowship
to excess.”
“You are fortunate in having one man left you
to pull the boat ashore,” carelessly returned the
other.
“I am more than equal to that little exertion myself:
nor do I like to separate the men. With your
permission, the black shall be birthed, too, in the
ship to-night.”
“As you please. Empty hammocks are not scarce
among us, since the last brush.”
Wilder then directed the negro to return to his
messmate, and to watch over him so long as he should
be unable to look after himself. The black, who
was far from being as clear-headed as common, willingly
complied. The young man then took leave
of his companions, and descended into the skiff. As
he pulled, with vigorous arms, away from the dark
ship, his eyes were cast upward, with a seaman's pleasure, on the order and neatness of her gear, and
thence they fell on the frowning mass of the hull.
A light-built, compact form was seen standing on the
heel of the bowsprit, apparently watching his movements;
and, notwithstanding the gloom of the clouded
star-light, he was enabled to detect, in the individual
who took so much apparent interest in his
proceedings, the person of the Rover.
| CHAPTER VII. The Red Rover | |