 | CHAPTER IX. The Red Rover |  |
9. CHAPTER IX.
“Their preparation is to-day by sea.”
—Anthony and Cleopatra
“Sail, ho!” in the little frequented sea in which
the “Rover” lay, was a cry that quickened every
dull pulsation in the bosoms of her crew. Many
weeks had now, according to their method of calculation,
plans of their chief. They were not of a temper
to reason on the fatality which had forced the
Bristol trader from their toils; it was enough, for
their rough natures, that the rich spoil had escaped
them. Without examining for the causes of this
loss, as has been already seen, they had been but too
well disposed to visit their disappointment on the
head of the innocent officer who was charged with
the care of a vessel that they already considered a
prize. Here, then, was at length an opportunity to
repair their loss. The stranger was about to encounter
them in a part of the ocean where succour was
nearly hopeless, and where time might be afforded
to profit, to the utmost, by any success that the freebooters
should obtain. Every man in the ship seemed
sensible of these advantages; and, as the words
sounded from mast to yard, and from yard to deck,
they were taken up in cheerful echos from fifty
mouths, which repeated the cry, until it was heard
issuing from the inmost recesses of the vessel.
The Rover himself manifested more than usual
satisfaction at this prospect of a capture. He was
quite aware of the necessity of some brilliant or of
some profitable exploit, to curb the rising tempers of
his men; and long experience had taught him that
he could ever draw the cords of discipline the tightest
in moments that appeared the most to require the
exercise of his own high courage and consummate
skill. He walked forward, therefore, among his
people, with a countenance that was no longer buried
in reserve, speaking to several, whom he addressed
by name, and of whom he did not even disdain to
ask opinions concerning the character of the distant
sail. When a sort of implied assurance that their
recent offences were overlooked had thus been given,
he summoned Wilder, the General, and one or two
others of the superior officers, to the poop, where
and more certain observations, by the aid of a half-dozen
excellent glasses.
Many minutes were now passed in silent and intense
scrutiny. The day was cloudless, the wind
fresh, without being heavy, the sea long, even, and
far from high, and, in short, all things combined, as
far as is ever seen on the restless ocean, not only to
aid their examination, but to favour those subsequent
evolutions which each instant rendered more probable
would become necessary.
“It is a ship!” exclaimed the Rover, lowering his
glass, the first to proclaim the result of his long and
close inspection.
“It is a ship!” echoed the General, across
whose disciplined features a ray of something like
animated satisfaction was making an effort to display
itself.
“A full-rigged ship!” continued a third, relieving
his eye in turn, and answering to the grim smile of
the soldier.
“There must be something to hold up all those
lofty spars,” resumed their Commander. “A hull
of price is beneath.—But you say nothing, Mr Wilder!
You make her out”—
“A ship of size,” returned our adventurer, who,
though hitherto silent, had been far from the least interested
in his investigations. “Does my glass deceive
me—or”—
“Or what, sir?”
“I see her to the heads of her courses.”
“You see her as I do. It is a tall ship on an easy
bow-line, with every thing set that will draw. And
she is standing hitherward. Her lower sails have
lifted within five minutes.”
“I thought as much. But”—
“But what, sir? There can be little doubt but
she is heading north-and-east. Since she is so kind
our movements. Let her come on. How like you
the manner of the stranger's advance, General?”
“Unmilitary, but enticing! There is a look of the
mines about her very royals.”
“And you, gentlemen, do you also see the fashion
of a galleon in her upper sails?”
“'Tis not unreasonable to believe it,” answered
one of the inferiors. “The Dons are said to run
this passage often, in order to escape speaking us
gentlemen, who sail with roving commissions.”
“Ah! your Don is a prince of the earth! There
is charity in lightening his golden burden, or the man
would sink under it, as did the Roman matron under
the pressure of the Sabine shields. I think you see
no such gilded beauty in the stranger, Mr Wilder.”
“It is a heavy ship!”
“The more likely to bear a noble freight. You
are new, sir, to this merry trade of ours, or you
would know that size is a quality we always esteem
in our visiters. If they carry pennants, we leave
them to meditate on the many `slips which exist between
the cup and the lip;' and, if stored with metal
no more dangerous than that of Potosi, they generally
sail the faster after passing a few hours in our
company.”
“Is not the stranger making signals?” demanded
Wilder, thoughtfully.
“Is he so quick to see us! A good look-out must
be had, when a vessel, that is merely steadied by her
stay-sails, can be seen so far. Vigilance is a never-failing
sign of value!”
A pause succeeded, during which all the glasses,
in imitation of that of Wilder, were again raised in
the direction of the stranger. Different opinions
were given; some affirming, and some doubting, the
fact of the signals. The Rover himself was silent,
though his observation was keen, and long continued.
“We have wearied our eyes till sight is getting
dim,” he said. “I have found the use of trying fresh
organs when my own have refused to serve me.
Come hither, lad,” he continued, addressing a man
who was executing some delicate job in seamanship
on the poop, at no great distance from the spot where
the groupe of officers had placed themselves; “come
hither: Tell me what you make of the sail in the
south-western board.”
The man proved to be Scipio, who had been chosen,
for his expertness, to perform the task in question.
Placing his cap on the deck, in a reverence
even deeper than that which the seaman usually
manifests toward his superior, he lifted the glass in
one hand, while with the other he covered the eye
that had at the moment no occasion for the use of
its vision. But no sooner did the wandering instrument
fall on the distant object, than he dropped it
again, and fastened his look, in a sort of stupid
admiration, on Wilder.
“Did you see the sail?” demanded the Rover.
“Masser can see him wid he naked eye.”
“Ay, but what make you of him by the aid of the
glass?”
“He'm ship, sir.”
“True. On what course?”
“He got he starboard tacks aboard, sir.”
“Still true. But has he signals abroad?”
“He'm got t'ree new cloths in he maintop-gallant-royal,
sir.”
“His vessel is all the better for the repairs. Did
you see his flags?”
“He'm show no flag, masser.”
“I thought as much myself. Go forward, lad—
stay—one often gets a true idea by seeking it where
it is not thought to exist. Of what size do you take
the stranger to be?”
“He'm just seven hundred and fifty tons, masser.”
“How's this! The tongue of your negro, Mr
Wilder, is as exact as a carpenter's rule. The fellow
speaks of the size of a vessel, that is hull down, with
an air as authoritative as a runner of the King's customs
could pronounce on the same, after she had
been submitted to the office admeasurement.”
“You will have consideration for the ignorance
of the black; men of his unfortunate state are seldom
skilful in answering interrogatories.”
“Ignorance!” repeated the Rover, glancing his
eye uneasily, and with a rapidity peculiar to himself,
from one to the other, and from both to the rising
object in the horizon: “Skilful! I know not: The
man has no air of doubt.—You think her tonnage
to be precisely that which you have said?”
The large dark eyes of Scipio rolled, in turn, from
his new Commander to his ancient master, while, for
a moment, his faculties appeared to be lost in inextricable
confusion. But the uncertainty continued only
for a moment. He no sooner read the frown that
was gathering deeply over the brow of the latter,
than the air of confidence with which he had pronounced
his former opinion vanished in a look of
obstinacy so settled, that one might well have despaired
of ever driving, or enticing, him again to
seem to think.
“I ask you, if the stranger may not be a dozen
tons larger or smaller than what you have named?”
continued the Rover, when he found his former question
was not likely to be soon answered.
“He'm just as masser wish 'em,” returned Scipio.
“I wish him a thousand; since he will then prove
the richer prize.”
“I s'pose he'm quite a t'ousand, sir.”
“Or a snug ship of three hundred, if lined with
gold, might do.”
“He look berry like a t'ree hundred.”
“To me it seems a brig.”
“I t'ink him brig too, masser.”
“Or possibly, after all, the stranger may prove a
schooner, with many lofty and light sails.”
“A schooner often carry a royal,” returned the
black, resolute to acquiesce in all the other said.
“Who knows it is a sail at all! Forward there!
It may be well to have more opinions than one on
so weighty a matter. Forward there! send the foretopman
that is called Fid upon the poop. Your
companions are so intelligent and so faithful, Mr
Wilder, that you are not to be surprised if I shew
an undue desire for their information.”
Wilder compressed his lips, and the rest of the
groupe manifested a good deal of amazement; but
the latter had been too long accustomed to the
caprice of their Commander, and the former was
too wise, to speak at a moment when his humour
seemed at the highest. The topman, however, was
not long in making his appearance, and then the
chief saw fit again to break the silence.
“And you think it questionable whether it be a
sail at all?” he continued.
“He'm sartain nothing but a fly-away,” returned
the obstinate black.
“You hear what your friend the negro says, master
Fid; he thinks that yonder object, which is lifting
so fast to leeward, is not a sail.”
As the topman saw no sufficient reason for concealing
his astonishment at this wild opinion, it was
manifested with all the embellishments with which
the individual in question usually set forth any of
his more visible emotions. After casting a short
glance in the direction of the sail, in order to assure
himself there had been no deception, he turned his
eyes in great disgust on Scipio, as if he would vindicate
the credit of the association at the expense
of some little contempt for the ignorance of his
companion.
“What the devil do you take it for, Guinea? a
church?”
“I t'ink he'm church,” responded the acquiescent
black.
“Lord help the dark-skinned fool! Your Honour
knows that conscience is d—nab-y overlooked in
Africa, and will not judge the nigger hardly for any
little blunder he may make in the account of his religion.
But the fellow is a thorough seaman, and
should know a top-gallant-sail from a weathercock.
Now, look you, S'ip, for the credit of your friends.
if you've no great pride on your own behalf, just tell
his”—
“It is of no account,” interrupted the Rover.
“Take you this glass, and pass an opinion on the
sail in sight yourself.”
Fid scraped his foot, and made a low bow, in acknowledgment
of the compliment; and then, depositing
his little tarpaulin hat on the deck of the poop,
he very composedly, and, as he flattered himself,
very understandingly, disposed of his person to take
the desired view. The gaze of the topman was far
longer than had been that of his black companion;
and it is to be presumed, in consequence, much more
accurate. Instead, however, of venturing any sudden
opinion, when his eye was wearied, he lowered
the glass, and with it his head, standing long in the
attitude of one whose thoughts had received some
subject of deep cogitation. During the process of
thinking, the weed was diligently rolled over his
tongue, and one hand was stuck a-kimbo into his
side, as if he would brace all his faculties to support
some extraordinary mental effort.
“I wait your opinion,” resumed his attentive
Commander, when he thought sufficient time had
been allowed to mature the opinion even of Richard
Fid.
“Will your Honour just tell me what day of the
time, the day of the week too, if it shouldn't be
giving too much trouble?”
His two questions were directly answered.
“We had the wind at east-with-southing, the first
day out, and then it chopped in the night, and blew
great guns at north-west, where it held for the matter
of a week. After which there was an Irishman's
hurricane, right up and down, for a day; then we
got into these here trades, which have stood as steady
as a ship's chaplain over a punch bowl, ever since.”—
Here the topman closed his soliloquy, in order to
agitate the tobacco again, it being impossible to conduct
the process of chewing and talking at one and
the same time.
“What of the stranger?” demanded the Rover, a
little impatiently.
“It's no church, that's certain, your Honour,”
said Fid, very decidedly.
“Has he signals flying?”
“He may be speaking with his flags, but it needs
a better scholar than Richard Fid to know what he
would say. To my eye, there are three new cloths
in his main-top-gallant-royal, but no bunting abroad.”
“The man is happy in having so good a sail. Mr
Wilder, do you too see the darker cloths in question?”
“There is certainly something which might be
taken for canvas newer than the rest. I believe I
first mistook the same, as the sun fell brightest on the
sail, for the signals I named.”
“Then we are not seen, and may lie quiet for a
while, though we enjoy the advantage of measuring
the stranger, foot by foot—even to the new cloths in
his royal!”
The Rover spoke in a tone that was strangely divided
between sarcasm and thought. He then made
an impatient gesture to the seamen to quit the poop.
respectful officers, continuing, in a manner that was
grave, while it was conciliatory,—
“Gentlemen,” he said, “our idle time is past, and
fortune has at length brought activity into our track.
Whether the ship in sight be of just seven hundred
and fifty tons, is more than I can pretend to pronounce,
but something there is which any seaman
may know. By the squareness of her upper-yards,
the symmetry with which they are trimmed, and the
press of canvas she bears on the wind, I pronounce
her to be a vessel of war. Do any differ from my
opinion? Mr Wilder, speak.”
“I feel the truth of all your reasons, and think
with you.”
A shade of gloomy distrust, which had gathered
over the brow of the Rover during the foregoing
scene, lighted a little as he listened to the direct and
frank avowal of his lieutenant.
“You believe she bears a pennant? I like this
manliness of reply. Then comes another question:
Shall we fight her?”
To this interrogatory it was not so easy to give a
decisive answer. Each officer consulted the opinions
of his comrades, in their eyes, until their leader saw
fit to make his application still more personal.
“Now, General, this is a question peculiarly fitted
for your wisdom,” he resumed: “Shall we give battle
to a pennant? or shall we spread our wings, and
fly?”
“My bullies are not drilled to the retreat. Give
them any other work to do, and I will answer for
their steadiness.”
“But shall we adventure, without a reason?”
“The Spaniard often sends his bullion home under
cover of a cruiser's guns,” observed one of the
inferiors, who rarely found pleasure in any risk
that did not infer its correspondent benefit. “We
guns, he will betray it by his reluctance to speak;
but if poor, we shall find him fierce as a half-fed
tiger.”
“There is sense in your counsel, Brace, and it
shall be regarded. Go then, gentlemen, to your several
duties. We'll pass the half hour that may be
needed, before his hull shall rise, in looking to our
gear, and overhauling the guns. As it is not decided
to fight, let what is done be done without display.
My people must see no receding from a resolution
taken.”
The groupe then separated, each man preparing
to undertake the task that more especially belonged
to the situation that he filled in the ship. Wilder
was about to retire with the rest, but a significant
sign drew him to the side of his chief, who continued
on the poop alone with his new confederate.
“The monotony of our lives is now likely to be
interrupted, Mr Wilder,” commenced the former,
first glancing his eye around, to make sure they were
alone. “I have seen enough of your spirit and
steadiness, to be sure, that, should accident disable me
to conduct the fortunes of these people, my authority
will fall into firm and able hands.”
“Should such a calamity befall us, I hope it may
be found that your expectations shall not be deceived.”
“I have confidence, sir; and, where a brave man
reposes his confidence, he has a right to hope it will
not be abused. I speak in reason.”
“I acknowledge the justice of your words.”
“I would, Wilder, that we had known each other
earlier. But what matters vain regrets! These
fellows of yours are keen of sight to note those cloths
so soon!”
“'Tis just the observation of people of their class.
The nicer distinctions which marked the cruiser
came first from yourself!”
“And then the `seven hundred and fifty tons' of
the black!—It was giving an opinion with great decision.”
“It is the quality of ignorance to be positive.”
“You say truly. Cast an eye at the stranger, and
tell me how he comes on.”
Wilder obeyed, seemingly glad to be relieved from
a discourse that he might have found embarrassing.
Many moments were passed before he dropped the
glass, during which time not a syllable fell from the
lips of his companion. When he turned, however,
to deliver the result of his observations, he met an
eye, that seemed to pierce his soul, fastened on his
countenance. Colouring highly, as if he resented
the suspicion betrayed by the act, Wilder closed his
half-open lips, and continued silent.
“And the ship?” deeply demanded the Rover.
“The ship has already raised her courses; in a
few more minutes we shall see the hull.”
“It is a swift vessel! She is standing directly for
us.”
“I think not. Her head is lying more at east.”
“It may be well to make certain of that fact. You
are right,” he continued, after taking a look himself
at the approaching cloud of canvas; “you are very
right. As yet we are not seen. Forward there!
haul down that head stay-sail; we will steady the
ship by her yards. Now let him look with all his
eyes; they must be good to see these naked spars at
such a distance.”
Our adventurer made no reply, assenting to the
truth of what the other had said by a simple inclination
of his head. They then resumed the walk to
and fro in their narrow limits, neither manifesting,
however, any anxiety to renew the discourse.
“We are in good condition for the alternative of
flight or combat,” the Rover at length observed, while
he cast a rapid look over the preparations which had
when the officers dispersed. “Now will I confess,
Wilder, a secret pleasure in the belief that yonder
audacious fool carries the boasted commission of the
German who wears the Crown of Britain. Should
he prove more than man may dare attempt, I will
flout him; though prudence shall check any further
attempts; and, should he prove an equal, would it
not gladden your eyes to see St. George come drooping
to the water?”
“I thought that men in our pursuit left honour to
silly heads, and that we seldom struck a blow that
was not intended to ring on a metal more precious
than iron.”
“'Tis the character the world gives; but I, for
one, would rather lower the pride of the minions of
King George than possess the power of unlocking
his treasury! Said I well, General?” he added, as
the individual he named approached; “said I well,
in asserting there was glorious pleasure in making a
pennant trail upon the sea?”
“We fight for victory,” returned the martinet. “I
am ready to engage at a minute's notice.”
“Prompt and decided, as a soldier.—Now tell me,
General, if Fortune, or Chance, or Providence, whichever
of the powers you may acknowledge for a leader,
were to give you the option of enjoyments, in
what would you find your deepest satisfaction?”
The soldier seemed to ruminate, ere he answered,—
“I have often thought, that, were I commander of
things on earth, I should, backed by a dozen of my
stoutest bullies, charge at the door of that cave which
was entered by the tailor's boy, him they call Aladdin.”
“The genuine aspirations of a freebooter! In such
a case, the magic trees would soon be disburdened
of their fruit. Still it might prove an inglorious victory,
of the combatants. Call you honour nothing?”
“Hum! I fought for honour half of a reasonably-long
life, and found myself as light at the close of all
my dangers as at the beginning. Honour and I have
shaken hands, unless it be the honour of coming off
conqueror. I have a strong disgust of defeat, but am
always ready to sell the mere honour of the victory
cheap.”
“Well, let it pass. The quality of the service is
much the same, find the motive where you will.—
How now! who has dared to let yonder top-gallant-sail
fly?”
The startling change in the voice of the Rover
caused all within hearing of his words to tremble.
Deep, anxious, and threatening displeasure was in
all its tones, and each man cast his eyes upwards, to
see on whose devoted head the weight of the dreaded
indignation of their chief was about to fall. As
there was little but naked spars and tightened ropes
to obstruct the view, all became, at the same instant,
apprized of the truth. Fid was standing on the head
of that topmast which belonged to the particular portion
of the vessel where he was stationed, and the
sail in question was fluttering, with all its gear loosened,
far and high in the wind. His hearing had
probably been drowned by the heavy flapping of the
canvas; for, instead of lending his ears to the deep
powerful call just mentioned, he rather stood contemplating
his work, than exhibiting any anxiety as
to the effect it might produce on the minds of those
beneath him. But a second warning came in tones
too terrible to be any longer disregarded by ears even
as dull as those of the offender.
“By whose order have you dared to loosen the
sail?” demanded the Rover.
“By the order of King Wind, your Honour. The
hand.”
“Furl it! away aloft, and furl it!” shouted the
excited leader. “Roll it up; and send the fellow
down who has been so bold as to own any authority
but my own in this ship, though it were that of a
hurricane.”
A dozen nimble topmen ascended to the assistance
of Fid. In another minute, the unruly canvas was
secured, and Richard himself was on his way to the
poop. During this brief interval, the brow of the
Rover was dark and angry as the surface of the element
on which he lived, when blackened by the
tempest. Wilder, who had never before seen his new
Commander thus excited, began to tremble for the
fate of his ancient comrade, and drew nigher, as the
latter approached, to intercede in his favour, should
the circumstances seem to require such an interposition.
“And why is this?” the still stern and angry leader
demanded of the offender. “Why is it that you,
whom I have had such recent reason to applaud,
should dare to let fly a sail, at a moment when it is
important to keep the ship naked?”
“Your Honour will admit that his rations sometimes
slips through the best man's fingers, and why
not a bit of canvas?” deliberately returned the delinquent.
“If I took a turn too many of the gasket
off the yard, it is a fault I am ready to answer for.”
“You say true, and dearly shall you pay the forfeit.
Take him to the gangway, and let him make
acquaintance with the cat.”
“No new acquaintance, your Honour, seeing that
we have met before, and that, too, for matters which
I had reason to hide my head for; whereas, here, it
may be many blows, and little shame.”
“May I intercede in behalf of the offender?” interrupted
Wilder, with earnestness and haste. “He
as much knowledge as good-will.”
“Say nothing about it, master Harry,” returned
the topman, with a peculiar glance of his eye. “The
sail has been flying finely, and it is now too late to
deny it; and so, I suppose, the fact must be scored
on the back of Richard Fid, as you would put any
other misfortune into the log.”
“I would he might be pardoned. I can venture
to promise, in his name, 'twill be the last offence”—
“Let it be forgotten,” returned the Rover, struggling
powerfully to conquer his passion. “I will not
disturb our harmony at such a moment, Mr Wilder,
by refusing so small a boon: but you need not be
told to what evil such negligence might lead. Give
me the glass again; I will see if the fluttering canvas
has escaped the eye of the stranger.”
The topman bestowed a stolen but exulting glance
on Wilder, and then the latter motioned the other
hastily away, turning himself to join his Commander
in the examination.
| CHAPTER IX. The Red Rover | |