 | CHAPTER VI. The Red Rover |  |
6. CHAPTER VI.
“She made good view of me; indeed so much,
That sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts, distractedly.”
Twelfth Night.
Though most of the crew of the “Dolphin”
slept, either in their hammocks or among the guns,
there were bright and anxious eyes still open in a
different part of the vessel. The Rover had relinquished
his cabin to Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude, from
the moment they entered the ship; and we shall shift
the scene to that apartment, (already sufficiently described
to render the reader familiar with the objects
it contained), resuming the action of the tale at an
early part of the discourse just related in the preceding
chapter.
It will not be necessary to dwell upon the feelings
with which the female inmates of the vessel had
witnessed the disturbances of that day; the conjectures
and suspicions to which they gave rise may be
apparent in what is about to follow. A mild, soft
light fell from the lamp of wrought and massive silver,
that was suspended from the upper deck, obliquely
upon the painfully pensive countenance of
the governess, while a few of its strongest rays lighted
the youthful bloom, though less expressive because
less meditative lineaments, of her companion.
The back-ground was occupied, like a dark shadow
in a picture, by the dusky form of the slumbering
Cassandra. At the moment when we see fit to lift
the curtain on this quiet scene of our drama, the
pupil was speaking, seeking, in the averted eyes of
her instructress, that answer to her question which
the tongue of the latter appeared reluctant to accord.
“I repeat, my dearest Madam,” said Gertrude,
their materials, is extraordinary in a ship.”
“And what would you infer from the same?”
“I know not. Still I would that we were safe in
the house of my father.”
“God grant it! It may be imprudent to be longer
silent—Gertrude, frightful, horrible suspicions have
been engendered in my mind by what we have this
day witnessed.”
The cheek of the maiden blanched, and the pupil
of her soft eye contracted, with alarm, while she
seemed to demand an explanation with every disturbed
lineament of her countenance.
“I have long been familiar with the usages of a
vessel of war,” continued the governess, who had
only paused in order to review the causes of her
suspicions in her own mind; “but never have I seen
such customs as, each hour, unfold themselves in
this vessel.”
“Of what do you suspect her?”
The look of deep, engrossing, maternal anxiety,
that the lovely interrogator received in reply to this
question, might have startled one whose mind had
been more accustomed to muse on the depravity of
human nature than the spotless being who received
it; but to Gertrude it conveyed no more than a general
and vague sensation of alarm.
“Why do you thus regard me, my governess—my
mother?” she exclaimed, bending forward, and laying
a hand imploringly on the arm of the other, as
if she would arouse her from a trance.
“Yes, I will speak: It is safer that you know the
worst, than that your innocence should be liable to
be abused. I distrust the character of this ship, and
of all that belong to her.”
“All!” repeated her pupil, gazing fearfully, and a
little wildly, around.
“Yes; of all.”
“There may be wicked and evil-intentioned men
in his Majesty's fleet; but we are surely safe from
them, since fear of punishment, if not fear of disgrace,
will be our protector.”
“I dread lest we find that the lawless spirits, who
harbour here, submit to no laws except those of their
own enacting, nor acknowledge any authority but
that which exists among themselves.”
“This would make them pirates!”
“And pirates, I fear, we shall find them.”
“Pirates? What! all?”
“Even all. Where one is guilty of such a crime,
it is clear that the associates cannot be free from
suspicion.”
“But, dear Madam, we know that one among
them, at least, is innocent; since he came with ourselves,
and under circumstances that will not admit
of deception.”
“I know not. There are different degrees of turpitude,
as there are different tempers to commit it!
I fear that all who may lay claim to be honest, in
this vessel, are here assembled.”
The eyes of Gertrude sunk to the floor, and her
lips quivered, partly in a tremour she could not control,
and perhaps in part through an emotion that
she found inexplicable to herself.
“Since we know whence our late companion
came,” she said, in an under tone, “I think you do
him wrong, however right your suspicions may prove
as to the rest.”
“I may be wrong as to him, but it is important
that we know the worst. Command yourself, my
love; our attendant ascends; some knowledge of
the truth may be gained from him.”
Mrs Wyllys gave her pupil an expressive sign to
compose her features, while she herself resumed her
usual, pensive air, with a calmness of mien that
might have deceived one far more practised than the
buried her face in a part of her attire, while the
former addressed the individual who had just entered,
in a tone equally divided between kindness and
concern.
“Roderick, child,” she commenced, “your eyelids
are getting heavy. This service of a ship must
be new to you?”
“It is so old as to keep me from sleeping on my
watch,” coldly returned the boy.
“A careful mother would be better for one of
your years, than the school of the boatswain. What
is your age, Roderick?”
“I have seen years enough to be both wiser and
better,” he answered, not without a shade of thought
settling on his brow. “Another month will make
me twenty.”
“Twenty! you trifle with my curiosity, urchin.”
“Did I say twenty, Madam! Fifteen would be
nearer to the truth.”
“I believe you well. And how many of those
years have you passed upon the water?”
“But two, in truth; though I often think them
ten; and yet there are times when they seem but a
day!”
“You are romantic early, boy. And how like you
the trade of war?”
“War!”
“Of war. I speak plainly, do I not? Those who
serve in a vessel that is constructed expressly for
battle, follow the trade of war.”
“Oh! yes; war is certainly our trade.”
“And have you yet seen any of its horrors? Has
this ship been in combat since your service?”
“This ship!”
“Surely this ship: Have you ever sailed in another?”
“Never.”
“Then, it is of this ship that one must question
you. Is prize-money plenty among your crew?”
“Abundant; they never want.”
“Then the vessel and Captain are both favourites.
The sailor loves the ship and Commander that give
him an active life.”
“Ay, Madam; our lives are active here. And some
there are among us, too, who love both ship and
Commander.”
“And have you mother, or friend, to profit by
your earnings?”
“Have I”—
Struck with the tone of stupor with which the boy
responded to her queries, the governess turned, her
head, to read, in a rapid glance, the language of his
countenance. He stood in a sort of senseless amazement,
looking her full in the face, but with an eye
far too vacant to prove that he was sensible of the
image that filled it.
“Tell me, Roderick,” she continued, careful not
to alarm his jealousy by any sudden allusion to his
manner; “tell me of this life of yours. You find it
merry?”
“I find it sad.”
“ 'Tis strange. The young ship-boys are ever
among the merriest of mortals. Perhaps your officer
treats you with severity.”
No answer was given.
“I am then right: Your Captain is a tyrant?”
“You are wrong: Never has he said harsh or unkind
word to me.”
“Ah! then he is gentle and kind. You are very
happy, Roderick.”
“I—happy, Madam!”
“I speak plainly, and in English—happy.”
“Oh! yes; we are all very happy here.”
“It is well. A discontented ship is no paradise.
sweets of the land?”
“I care but little for the land, Madam, could I
only have friends in the ship that love me.”
“And have you not? Is not Mr Wilder your
friend?”
“I know but little of him; I never saw him before”—
“When, Roderick?”
“Before we met in Newport.”
“In Newport?”
“Surely you know we both came from Newport,
last.”
“Ah! I comprehend you. Then, your acquaintance
with Mr Wilder commenced at Newport? It
was while your ship was lying off the fort?”
“It was. I carried him the order to take command
of the Bristol trader. He had only joined us
the night before.”
“So lately! It was a young acquaintance indeed.
But I suppose your Commander knew his merits?”
“It is so hoped among the people. But”—
“You were speaking, Roderick.”
“None here dare question the Captain for his reasons.
Even I am obliged to be mute.”
“Even you!” exclaimed Mrs Wyllys, in a surprise
that for the moment overcame her self-restraint. But
the thought in which the boy was lost appeared to
prevent his observing the sudden change in her manner.
Indeed, so little did he know what was passing,
that the governess touched the hand of Gertrude,
and silently pointed out the insensible figure of the
lad, without the slightest apprehension that the movement
would be observed.
“What think you, Roderick,” continued his interrogator,
“would he refuse to answer us also?”
The boy started; and, as consciousness shot into
of Gertrude.
“Though her beauty be so rare,” he answered
with vehemence, “let her not prize it too highly.
Woman cannot tame his temper!”
“Is he then so hard of heart? Think you that a
question from this fair one would be denied?”
“Hear me, Lady,” he said, with an earnestness
that was no less remarkable than the plaintive softness
of the tones in which he spoke; “I have seen
more, in the last two crowded years of my life, than
many youths would witness between childhood and
the age of man. This is no place for innocence and
beauty. Oh! quit the ship, if you leave it as you
came, without a deck to lay your head under!”
“It may be too late to follow such advice,” Mrs
Wyllys gravely replied, glancing her eye at the silent
Gertrude as she spoke. “But tell me more of this
extraordinary vessel. Roderick, you were not born
to fill the station in which I find you?”
The boy shook his head, but remained with
downcast eyes, apparently not disposed to answer
further on such a subject.
“How is it that I find the `Dolphin' bearing different
hues to-day from what she did yesterday? and
why is it that neither then, nor now, does she resemble,
in her paint, the slaver of Newport harbour?”
“And why is it,” returned the boy, with a smile,
in which melancholy struggled powerfully with bitterness,
“that none can look into the secret heart of
him who makes those changes at will? If all remained
the same, but the paint of the ship, one might
still be happy in her!”
“Then, Roderick, you are not happy: Shall I intercede
with Captain Heidegger for your discharge?”
“I could never wish to serve another.”
“How! Do you complain, and yet embrace your
fetters?”
“I complain not.”
The governess eyed him closely; and, after a moment's
pause, she continued,—
“Is it usual to see such riotous conduct among the
crew as we have this day witnessed?”
“It is not. You have little to fear from the people;
he who brought them under knows how to keep
them down.”
“They are enlisted by order of the King?”
“The King! Yes, he is surely a King who has no
equal.”
“But they dared to threaten the life of Mr Wilder.
Is a seaman, in a King's ship, usually so bold?”
The boy glanced a look at Mrs Wyllys; as if he
would say, he understood her affected ignorance of
the character of the vessel, but again he chose to
continue silent.
“Think you, Roderick,” continued the governess,
who no longer deemed it necessary to pursue her
covert inquiries on that particular subject; “think
you, Roderick, that the Rov— that is, that Captain
Heidegger will suffer us to land at the first port
which offers?”
“Many have been passed since you reached the
ship.”
“Ay, many that are inconvenient; but, when one
shall be gained where his pursuits will allow his
ship to enter?”
“Such places are not common.”
“But, should it occur, do you not think he will
permit us to land? We have gold to pay him for his
trouble.”
“He cares not for gold. I never ask him for it,
that he does not fill my hand.”
“You must be happy, then. Plenty of gold will
compensate for a cold look at times.”
“Never!” returned the boy, with quickness and
energy. “Had I the ship filled with the dross, I
eye.”
Mrs Wyllys started, no less at the fervid manner
of the lad than at the language. Rising from her
seat, she approached nigher to him, and in a situation
where the light of the lamp fell full upon his
lineaments. She saw the large drop that broke out
from beneath a long and silken lash, to roll down a
cheek which, though embrowned by the sun, was
deepening with a flush that gradually stole into it, as
her own gaze became more settled; and then her
eyes fell slowly and keenly along the person of the
lad, until they reached even the delicate feet, that
seemed barely able to uphold him. The usually pensive
and mild countenance of the governess changed
to a look of cold regard, and her whole form appeared
to elevate itself, in chaste matronly dignity, as she
sternly asked,—
“Boy, have you a mother?”
“I know not,” was the answer that came from
lips that scarcely severed to permit the smothered
sounds to escape.
“It is enough; another time I will speak further
to you. Cassandra will in future do the service of
this cabin; when I have need of you, the gong shall
be touched.”
The head of Roderick fell nearly to his bosom.
he shrunk from before that cold and searching eye
which followed his form, until it had disappeared
through the hatch, and whose look was then bent
rapidly, and not without a shade of alarm, on the
face of the wondering but silent Gertrude.
A gentle tap at the door broke in upon the flood
of reflection which was crowding on the mind of
the governess. She gave the customary answer; and,
before time was allowed for any interchange of ideas
between her and her pupil, the Rover entered.
| CHAPTER VI. The Red Rover | |