 | CHAPTER XI. The Red Rover |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
—“For he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman.”—
King Henry IV.
The moment was now one of high and earnest
excitement. Each individual, who was charged with
a portion of the subordinate authority of the ship,
had examined into the state of his command, with
that engrossing care which always deepens as responsibility
draws nigher to the proofs of its being
worthily bestowed. The voice of the harsh master
had ceased to inquire into the state of those several
ropes and chains that were deemed vital to the safety
of the vessel; each chief of a battery had assured
and re-assured himself that his artillery was ready
for instant, and the most effective, service; extra
ammunition had already issued from its dark and
secret repository; and even the hum of dialogue had
ceased, in the more engrossing and all-absorbing interest
of the scene. Still the quick and ever-changing
glance of the Rover could detect no reason to
distrust the firmness of his people. They were
grave, as are ever the bravest and steadiest in the hour
of trial; but their gravity was mingled with no signs
of concern. It seemed rather like the effect of desperate
and concentrated resolution, such as braces
the human mind to efforts which exceed the ordinary
daring of martial enterprise. To this cheering exhibition
of the humour of his crew the wary and
sagacious leader saw but three exceptions; they
were found in the persons of his lieutenant and his
two remarkable associates.
It has been seen that the bearing of Wilder was
not altogether such as became one of his rank in a
the Rover had studied and re-studied his manner,
without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion as to
its real cause. The colour was as fresh on the cheeks
of the youth, and his limbs were as firm as in the
hours of entire security; but the unsettled wandering
of his eye, and an air of doubt and indecision
which pervaded a mien that ought to display qualities
so opposite, gave his Commander cause for deep
reflection. As if to find an explanation of the enigma
in the deportment of the associates of Wilder, his
look sought the persons of Fid and the negro. They
were both stationed at the piece nearest to the place
he himself occupied, the former filling the station of
captain of the gun.
The ribs of the ship itself were not firmer in their
places than was the attitude of the topman, as he
occasionally squinted along the massive iron tube
over which he was placed in command; nor was
that familiar and paternal care, which distinguishes
the seaman's interest in his particular trust, wanting
in his manner. Still, an air of broad and inexplicable
surprise had possession of his rugged lineaments;
and ever, as his look wandered from the countenance
of Wilder to their adversary, it was not difficult to
discover that he marvelled to find the two in opposition.
He neither commented on, nor complained,
however, of an occurrence he evidently found so
extraordinary, but appeared perfectly disposed to
pursue the spirit of that well-known maxim of the
mariner which teaches the obedient tar “to obey
orders, though he break owners.” Every portion
of the athletic form of the negro was motionless,
except his eyes. These large, jet-black orbs, however,
rolled incessantly, like the more dogmatic organs
of the topman, from Wilder to the strange sail,
seeming to drink in fresh draughts of astonishment
at each new look.
Struck by these evident manifestations of some
extraordinary and yet common sentiment between
the two, the Rover profited by his own position, and
the distance of the lieutenant, to address them.
Leaning over the slight rail that separated the break
of the poop from the quarter-deck, he said, in that
familiar manner which the Commander is most wont
to use to his inferiors when their services are becoming
of the greatest importance,—
“I hope, master Fid, they have put you at a gun
that knows how to speak.”
“There is not a smoother bore, nor a wider
mouth, in the ship, your Honour, than these of
`Blazing Billy,' ” returned the topman, giving the
subject of his commendations an affectionate slap.
“All I ask is a clean spunge and a tight wad. Guinea,
score a foul anchor, in your own fashion, on a half
dozen of the shot; and, after the matter is all over,
they who live through it may go aboard the enemy,
and see in what manner Richard Fid has planted his
seed.”
“You are not new in action, master Fid?”
“Lord bless your Honour! gunpowder is no more
than dry tobacco in my nostrils! tho'f I will say”—
“You were going to add”—
“That sometimes I find myself shifted over, in
these here affairs,” returned the topman, glancing his
eye first at the flag of France, and then at the distant
emblem of England, “like a jib-boom rigged,
abaft, for a jury to the spanker. I suppose master
Harry has it all in his pocket, in black and white;
but this much I will say, that, if I must throw stones,
I should rather see them break a neighbour's crockery,
than that of my own mother.—I say, Guinea,
score a couple more of the shot; since, if the play
is to be acted, I've a mind the `Blazing Billy' should
do something creditable for the honour of her good
name.”
The Rover drew back, thoughtful and silent. He
then caught a look from Wilder, whom he again
beckoned to approach.
“Mr Wilder,” he said, in a tone of kindness, “I
comprehend your feelings. All have not offended
alike in yonder vessel, and you would rather your
service against that haughty flag should commence
with some other ship. There is little else but empty
honour to be gained in the conflict—in tenderness to
your feelings, I will avoid it.”
“It is too late,” said Wilder, with a melancholy
shake of the head.
“You shall see your error. The experiment may
cost us a broadside, but it shall succeed. Go, descend
with our guests to a place of safety; and, by
the time you return, the scene shall have undergone
a change.”
Wilder eagerly disappeared in the cabin, whither
Mrs Wyllys had already withdrawn; and, after communicating
the intentions of his Commander to avoid
an action, he conducted them into the depths of the
vessel, in order that no casualty might arrive to imbitter
his recollections of the hour. This grateful
duty promptly and solicitously performed, our adventurer
again sought the deck, with the velocity of
thought.
Notwithstanding his absence had seemed but of a
moment, the scene had indeed changed in all its hostile
images. In place of the flag of France, he
found the ensign of England floating at the peak of
the “Dolphin,” and a quick and intelligible exchange
of lesser signals in active operation between the two
vessels. Of all that cloud of canvas which had so
lately borne down the vessel of the Rover, her topsails
alone remained distended to the yards; the remainder
was hanging in festoons, and fluttering loosely
before a favourable breeze. The ship itself was
running directly for the stranger, who, in turn, was
in a high-prized and expected object.
“Now is yon fellow sorry to believe him a friend
whom he had lately supposed an enemy,” said the
Rover, directing the attention of his lieutenant to the
confiding manner with which their neighbour suffered
himself to be deceived by his surreptitiously obtained
signals. “It is a tempting offer; but I pass it, Wilder,
for your sake.”
The gaze of the lieutenant seemed bewildered,
but he made no reply. Indeed, but little time was
given for deliberation or discourse. The “Dolphin”
rolled swiftly along her path, and each moment dissipated
the mist in which distance had enveloped the
lesser objects on board the stranger. Guns, blocks,
ropes, bolts, men, and even features, became plainly
visible, in rapid succession, as the water that divided
them was parted by the bows of the lawless ship. In
a few short minutes, the stranger, having secured
most of his lighter canvas, came sweeping up to the
wind; and then, as his after-sails, squared for the
purpose, took the breeze on their outer surface, the
mass of his hull became stationary.
The people of the “Dolphin” had so far imitated
the confiding credulity of the deceived cruiser of the
Crown, as to furl all their loftiest duck, each man
employed in the service trusting implicitly to the discretion
and daring of the singular being whose pleasure
it was to bring their ship into so hazardous a
proximity to a powerful enemy—qualities that had
been known to avail them in circumstances of even
greater delicacy than those in which they were now
placed. With this air of audacious confidence, the
dreaded Rover came gliding down upon her unsuspecting
neighbour, until within a few hundred feet
of her weather-beam, when she too, with a graceful
curve in her course, bore up against the breeze, and
came to a state of rest. But Wilder, who regarded
was not slow in observing that the head of the
“Dolphin” was laid a different way from that of the
other, and that her progress had been arrested by the
counteracting position of her head-yards; a circumstance
that afforded the advantage of a quicker command
of the ship, should need require a sudden recourse
to the guns.
The “Dolphin” was still drifting slowly under the
last influence of her recent motion, when the customary
hoarse and nearly unintelligible summons
came over the water, demanding her appellation and
character. The Rover applied his trumpet to his
lips, with a meaning glance that was directed towards
his lieutenant, and returned the name of a ship, in
the service of the King, that was known to be of the
size and force of his own vessel.
“Ay, ay,” returned a voice from out of the other
ship, “'twas so I made out your signals.”
The hail was then reciprocated, and the name of
the royal cruiser given in return, followed by an invitation
from her Commander, to his brother in authority,
to visit his superior.
Thus far, no more had occurred than was usual
between seamen in the same service; but the affair
was rapidly arriving at a point that most men would
have found too embarrassing for further deception.
Still the observant eye of Wilder detected no hesitation
or doubt in the manner of his chief. The beat
of the drum was heard from the cruiser, announcing
the “retreat from quarters;” and, with perfect composure,
he directed the same signal to be given for
his own people to retire from their guns. In short,
five minutes established every appearance of entire
confidence and amity between two vessels which
would have soon been at deadly strife, had the true
character of one been known to the other. In this
state of the doubtful game he played, and with the
Rover motioned his lieutenant to his side.
“You hear that I am desired to visit my senior in
the service of his Majesty,” he said, with a smile of
irony playing about his scornful lip. “Is it your
pleasure to be of the party?”
The start with which Wilder received this hardy
proposal was far too natural to proceed from any
counterfeited emotion.
“You are not so mad as to run the risk!” he exclaimed,
when words were at command.
“If you fear for yourself, I can go alone.”
“Fear!” echoed the youth, a bright flush giving
an additional glow to the flashing of his kindling eye.
“It is not fear, Captain Heidegger, but prudence,
that tells me to keep concealed. My presence would
betray the character of this ship. You forget that I
am known to all in yonder cruiser.”
“I had indeed forgotten that portion of the plot.
Then remain, while I go to play upon the credulity
of his Majesty's Captain.”
Without waiting for an answer, the Rover led the
way below, signing for his companion to follow. A
few moments sufficed to arrange the fair golden locks
that imparted such a look of youth and vivacity to
the countenance of the former. The undress, fanciful
frock he wore in common was exchanged for
the attire of one of his assumed rank and service,
which had been made to fit his person with the nicest
care, and with perhaps a coxcomical attention to the
proportions of his really fine person; and in all other
things was he speedily equipped for the disguise he
chose to affect. No sooner were these alterations in
his appearance completed, (and they were effected
with a brevity and readiness that manifested much
practice in similar artifices), than he disposed himself
to proceed on the intended experiment.
“Truer and quicker eyes have been deceived.”
to the countenance of his lieutenant, as he spoke,
“than those which embellish the countenance of
Captain Bignall.”
“You know him, then?”
“Mr Wilder, my business imposes the necessity of
knowing much that other men overlook. Now is
this adventure, which, by your features, I perceive
you deem so forlorn in its hopes of success, one of
easy achievement. I am convinced that not an officer
or man on board the `Dart' has ever seen the
ship whose name I have chosen to usurp. She is too
fresh from the stocks to incur that risk. Then is
there little probability that I, in my other self, shall
be compelled to acknowledge acquaintance with any
of her officers; for you well know that years have
passed since your late ship has been in Europe; and,
by running your eye over these books, you will perceive
I am that favoured mortal, the son of a Lord,
and have not only grown into command, but into
manhood, since her departure from home.”
“These are certainly favouring circumstances, and
such as I had not the sagacity to detect.—But why
incur the risk at all?”
“Why! Perhaps there is a deep-laid scheme to
learn if the prize would repay the loss of her capture;
perhaps—it is my humour. There is fearful
excitement in the adventure.”
“And there is fearful danger.”
“I never count the price of these enjoyments.—
Wilder,” he added, turning to him with a look of
frank and courteous confidence, “I place life and
honour in your keeping; for to me it would be dishonour
to desert the interests of my crew.”
“The trust shall be respected,” repeated our adventurer,
in a tone so deep and choaked as to be
nearly unintelligible.
Regarding the still ingenuous countenance of his
as if he approved of the pledge, waved his hand in
adieu, and, turning, was about to leave the cabin;
but a third form, at that moment, caught his wandering
glance. Laying a hand lightly on the shoulder
of the boy, whose form was placed somewhat obtrusively
in his way, he demanded, a little sternly,—
“Roderick, what means this preparation?”
“To follow my master to the boat.”
“Boy, thy service is not needed.”
“It is rarely wanted of late.”
“Why should I add unnecessarily to the risk of
lives, where no good can attend the hazard?”
“In risking your own, you risk all to me,” was the
answer, given in a tone so resigned, and yet so faltering,
that the tremulous and nearly smothered sounds
caught no ears but those for whom they were intended.
The Rover for a time replied not. His hand still
kept its place on the shoulder of the boy, whose working
features his riveted eye read, as the organ is sometimes
wont to endeavour to penetrate the mystery of
the human heart.
“Roderick,” he at length said, in a milder and a
far kinder voice, “your lot shall be mine; we go
together.”
Then, dashing his hand hastily across his brow,
the wayward chief ascended the ladder, attended by
the lad, and followed by the individual in whose faith
he reposed so great a trust. The step with which
the Rover trod his deck was firm, and the bearing of
his form as steady as though he felt no hazard in his
undertaking. His look passed, with a seaman's care,
from sail to sail; and not a brace, yard, or bow-line
escaped the quick understanding glances he cast about
him, before he proceeded to the side, in order to enter
a boat which he had already ordered to be in
waiting. A glimmering of distrust and hesitation
haughty and bold decision of his features. For a moment,
his foot lingered on the ladder. “Davis,” he
said sternly to the individual whom, by his own experience,
he knew to be so long practised in treachery,
“leave the boat. Send me the gruff captain
of the forecastle in his place. So bold a talker, in
common, should know how to be silent at need.”
The exchange was instantly made; for no one,
there, was ever known to dispute a mandate that was
uttered with the air of authority he then wore. A
deeply intent attitude of thought succeeded, and then
every shadow of care vanished from that brow, on
which a look of high and generous confidence was
seated, as he added,—
“Wilder, adieu! I leave you Captain of my people,
and master of my fate: Certain I am that both
trusts are reposed in worthy hands.”
Without waiting for reply, as if he scorned the vain
ceremony of idle assurances, he descended swiftly to
the boat, which at the next instant was pulling boldly
towards the King's cruiser. The brief interval
which succeeded, between the departure of the adventurers
and their arrival at the hostile ship, was
one of intense and absorbing suspense on the part of
all whom they had left behind. The individual most
interested in the event, however, betrayed neither in
eye nor movement any of the anxiety which so intently
beset the minds of his followers. He mounted
the side of his enemy amid the honours due to his
imaginary rank, with a self-possession and ease that
might readily have been mistaken, by those who believe
these fancied qualities have a real existence, for
the grace and dignity of lofty recollections and high
birth. His reception, by the honest veteran whose
long and hard services had received but a meager
reward in the vessel he commanded, was frank, manly,
passed, than the latter conducted his guest into
his own apartments.
“Find such a birth, Captain Howard, as suits your
inclination,” said the unceremonious old seaman,
seating himself as frankly as he invited his companion
to imitate his example. “A gentleman of your
extraordinary merit must be reluctant to lose time in
useless words, though you are so young—young for
the pretty command it is your good fortune to enjoy!”
“On the contrary, I do assure you I begin to feel
myself quite an antediluvian,” returned the Rover,
coolly placing himself at the opposite side of the
table, where he might, from time to time, look his
half-disgusted companion full in the eye; “Would
you imagine it, sir? I shall have reached the age of
three-and-twenty, if I live through the day.”
“I had given you a few more years, young gentleman;
but London can ripen the human face as speedily
as the Equator.”
“You never said truer words, sir. Of all cruising
grounds, Heaven defend me from that of St. James's!
I do assure you, Bignall, the service is quite sufficient
to wear out the strongest constitution. There were
moments when I really thought I should have died
that humble, disagreeable mortal—a lieutenant!”
“Your disease would then have been a galloping
consumption!” muttered the indignant old seaman.
“They have sent you out in a pretty boat at last,
Captain Howard.”
“She's bearable, Bignall, but frightfully small. I
told my father, that, if the First Lord didn't speedily
regenerate the service, by building more comfortable
vessels, the navy would get altogether into vulgar
hands. Don't you find the motion excessively annoying
in these single-deck'd ships, Bignall?”
“When a man has been tossing up and down for
host, stroking his gray locks, for want of some other
manner of suppressing his ire, “he gets to be indifferent
whether his ship pitches a foot more or a foot
less.”
“Ah! that, I dare say, is what one calls philosophical
equanimity, though little to my humour. But,
after this cruise, I am to be posted; and then I shall
make interest for a guard-ship in the Thames; every
thing goes by interest now-a-days, you know, Bignall.”
The honest old tar swallowed his displeasure as
well as he could; and, as the most effectual means of
keeping himself in a condition to do credit to his own
hospitality, he hastened to change the subject.
“I hope, among other new fashions, Captain Howard,”
he said, “the flag of Old England continues to
fly over the Admiralty. You wore the colours of
Louis so long this morning, that another half hour
might have brought us to loggerheads.”
“Oh! that was an excellent military ruse! I shall
certainly write the particulars of that deception
home.”
“Do so; do so, sir; you may get knighthood for
the exploit.”
“Horrible, Bignall! my Lady mother would faint
at the suggestion. Nothing so low has been in the
family, I do assure you, since the time when chivalry
was genteel.”
“Well, well, Captain Howard, it was happy for us
both that you got rid of your Gallic humour so soon;
for a little more time would have drawn a broadside
from me. By heavens, sir, the guns of this ship
would have gone off of themselves, in another five
minutes!”
“It is quite happy as it is.—What do you find to
amuse you (yawning) in this dull quarter of the world,
Bignall?”
“Why, sir, what between his Majesty's enemies,
the care of my ship, and the company of my officers,
I find few heavy moments.”
“Ah! your officers: True, you must have officers
on board; though, I suppose, they are a little oldish to
be agreeable to you. Will you favour me with a sight
of the list?”
The Commander of the `Dart' did as he was requested,
putting the quarter-bill of his ship into the
hands of his unknown enemy, with an eye that was
far too honest to condescend to bestow even a look
on a being so much despised.
“What a list of thorough 'mouthers! All Yarmouth,
and Plymouth, and Portsmouth, and Exmouth
names, I do affirm. Here are Smiths enough to do
the iron-work of the whole ship. Ha! here is a fellow
that might do good service in a deluge. Who
may be this Henry Ark, that I find rated as your first
lieutenant?”
“A youth who wants but a few drops of your
blood, Captain Howard, to be one day at the head
of his Majesty's fleet.”
“If he be then so extraordinary for his merit, Captain
Bignall, may I presume on your politeness to ask
him to favour us with his society. I always give my lieutenant
half an hour of a morning—if he be genteel.”
“Poor boy! God knows where he is to be found
at this moment. The noble fellow has embarked,
of his own accord, on a most dangerous service, and
I am as ignorant as yourself of his success. Remonstrance,
and even entreaties, were of no avail. The
Admiral had great need of a suitable agent, and the
good of the nation demanded the risk; then, you
know, men of humble birth must earn their preferment
in cruising elsewhere than at St. James's; for
the brave lad is indebted to a wreck, in which he
was found an infant, for the very name you find so
singular.”
“He is, however, still borne upon your books as
first lieutenant?”
“And I hope ever will be, until he shall get the
ship he so well merits.—Good Heaven! are you ill,
Captain Howard? Boy, a tumbler of grog here.”
“I thank you, sir,” returned the Rover, smiling
calmly, and rejecting the offered beverage, as the
blood returned into his features, with a violence that
threatened to break through the ordinary boundaries
of its currents. “It is no more than an ailing I inherit
from my mother. We call it, in our family, the
`de Vere ivory;' for no other reason, that I could
ever learn, than that one of my female ancestors was
particularly startled, in a delicate situation, you know,
by an elephant's tooth. I am told it has rather an
amiable look, while it lasts.”
“It has the look of a man who is fitter for his
mother's nursery than a gale of wind. But I am glad
it is so soon over.”
“No one wears the same face long now-a-days,
Bignall.—And so this Mr Ark is not any body, after
all!”
“I know not what you call `any body,' sir; but,
if sterling courage, great professional merit, and stern
loyalty, count for any thing on your late cruising
grounds, Captain Howard, Henry Ark will soon be
in command of a frigate.”
“Perhaps, if one only knew exactly on what to
found his claims,” continued the Rover, with a smile
so kind, and a voice so insinuating, that they half
counteracted the effect of his assumed manner, “a
word might be dropped, in a letter home, that should
do the youth no harm.”
“I would to Heaven I dare but reveal the nature
of the service he is on!” eagerly returned the warm-hearted
old seaman, who was as quick to forget, as
he was sudden to feel, disgust. “You may, however,
safely say, from his general character, that it is
his Majesty's subjects in view. Indeed, an hour has
scarcely gone by since I thought that it was completely
successful.—Do you often set your lofty sails,
Captain Howard, while the heavier canvas is rolled
upon the yards? To me, a ship clothed in that style
looks something like a man with his coat on, before
he has cased his legs in the lower garment.”
“You allude to the accident of my maintop-gallant-sail
getting loose when you first made me?”
“I mean no other. We had caught a glimpse of
your spars with the glass; but had lost you altogether,
when the flying duck met the eye of a look-out. To
say the least, it was remarkable, and it might have
proved an awkward circumstance.”
“Ah! I often do things in that way, in order to be
odd. It is a sign of cleverness to be odd, you know.
—But I, too, am sent into these seas on a special
errand.”
“Such as what?” bluntly demanded his companion,
with an uneasiness about his frowning eye that
he was far too simple-minded to conceal.
“To look for a ship that will certainly give me a
famous lift, should I have the good luck to fall in with
her. For some time, I took you for the very gentleman
I was in search of; and I do assure you, if your
signals had not been so very unexceptionable, something
serious might have happened between us.”
“And pray, sir, for whom did you take me?”
“For no other than that notorious knave the Red
Rover.”
“The devil you did! And do you suppose, Captain
Howard, there is a pirate afloat who carries such
hamper above his head as is to be found aboard the
`Dart?' Such a set to her sails—such a step to her
masts—and such a trim to her hull? I hope, for the
honour of your vessel, sir, that the mistake went no
further than the Captain?”
“Until we got within reading distance of the signals,
at least a moiety of the better opinions in my
ship was dead against you, Bignall, I give you my
declaration. You've really been so long from home,
that the `Dart' is getting quite a roving look. You
may not be sensible of it, but I assure you of the
fact merely as a friend.”
“And, perhaps, since you did me the honour to
mistake my vessel for a freebooter,” returned the old
tar, smothering his ire in a look of facetious irony,
which changed the expression of his mouth to a
grim grin, “you might have conceited this honest
gentleman here to be no other than Beelzebub.”
As he spoke, the Commander of the ship, which
had borne so odious an imputation, directed the eyes
of his companion to the form of a third individual,
who had entered the cabin with the freedom of a
privileged person, but with a tread so light as to be
inaudible. As this unexpected form met the quick,
impatient glance of the pretended officer of the
Crown, he arose involuntarily, and, for half a minute,
that admirable command of muscle and nerve, which
had served him so well in maintaining his masquerade,
appeared entirely to desert him. The loss of
self-possession, however, was but for a time so short
as to attract no notice; and he coolly returned the
salutations of an aged man, of a meek and subdued
look, with that air of blandness and courtesy which
he so well knew how to assume.
“This gentleman is your chaplain, sir, I presume,
by his clerical attire,” he said, after he had exchanged
bows with the stranger.
“He is, sir—a worthy and honest man, whom I
am not ashamed to call my friend. After a separation
of thirty years, the Admiral has been good
enough to lend him to me for the cruise; and, though
my ship is none of the largest, I believe he finds himself
as comfortable in her as he would aboard the
Howard, of his Majesty's ship `Antelope.' I
need not expatiate on his remarkable merit, since the
command he bears, at his years, is a sufficient testimony
on that important particular.”
There was a look of bewildered surprise in the
gaze of the divine, when his glance first fell upon the
features of the pretended scion of nobility; but it
was far less striking than had been that of the subject
of his gaze, and of much shorter continuance. He
again bowed meekly, and with that deep reverence
which long use begets, even in the best-intentioned
minds, when brought in contact with the fancied
superiority of hereditary rank; but he did not appear
to consider the occasion one that required he should
say more than the customary words of salutation.
The Rover turned calmly to his veteran companion,
and continued the discourse.
“Captain Bignall,” he said, again wearing that
grace of manner which became him so well, “it is
my duty to follow your motions in this interview. I
will now return to my ship; and if, as I begin to suspect,
we are in these seas on a similar errand, we
can concert at our leisure a system of co-operation,
which, properly matured by your experience, may
serve to bring about the common end we have in
view.”
Greatly mollified by this concession to his years
and to his rank, the Commander of the “Dart” pressed
his hospitalities warmly on his guest, winding up
his civilities by an invitation to join in a marine feast
at an hour somewhat later in the day. All the former
offers were politely declined, while the latter
was accepted; the invited making the invitation
itself an excuse that he should return to his own vessel,
in order that he might select such of his officers
as he should deem most worthy of participating in
the dainties of the promised banquet. The veteran
ordinary sturdy blustering of his character, had served
too long in indigence and comparative obscurity,
not to feel some of the longings of human nature for
his hard-earned and protracted preferment. He consequently
kept, in the midst of all his native and
manly honesty, a saving-eye on the means of accomplishing
this material object. It is to occasion no surprise,
therefore, that his parting from the supposed
son of a powerful champion at Court was more amicable
than had been the meeting. The Rover was
bowed, from the cabin to the deck, with at least an
appearance of returning good-will. On reaching the
latter, a hurried, suspicious, and perhaps an uneasy
glance was thrown from his restless eyes on all those
faces that were grouped around the gangway, by
which he was about to leave the ship; but their expression
instantly became calm again, and a little supercilious
withal, in order to do no discredit to the
part in the comedy which it was his present humour
to enact. Then, shaking the worthy and thoroughly-deceived
old seaman heartily by the hand, he touched
his hat, with an air half-haughty, half-condescending,
to his inferiors. He was in the act of descending
into the boat, when the chaplain was seen to
whisper something, with great earnestness, in the ear
of his Captain. The Commander hastened to recall
his departing guest, desiring him, with startling gravity,
to lend him his private attention for another moment.
Suffering himself to be led apart by the two,
the Rover stood a waiting their pleasure, with a coolness
of demeanour that, under the peculiar circumstances
of his case, did signal credit to his nerves.
“Captain Howard,” resumed the warm-hearted
Bignall, “have you a gentleman of the cloth in your
vessel?”
“Two, sir,” was the ready answer.
“Two! It is rare to find a supernumerary priest
could give the fellow a bishop,” muttered the other.
“You are fortunate in this particular, young gentleman,
since I am indebted to inclination, rather than
to custom, for the society of my worthy friend here.
He has, however, made a point that I should include
the reverend gentleman—I should say gentlemen—
in the invitation.”
“You shall have all the divinity of my ship, Bignall,
on my faith.”
“I believe I was particular in naming your first
lieutenant.”
“Oh! dead or alive, he shall surely be of your
party,” returned the Rover, with a suddenness and
vehemence of utterance that occasioned both his auditors
to start with surprise. “You may not find him
an ark to rest your weary foot on; but, such as he
is, he is entirely at your service. And now, once
more, I salute you.”
Bowing again, he proceeded, with his former deliberate
air, over the gangway, keeping his eye riveted
on the lofty gear of the “Dart,” as he descended
her side, with much that sort of expression with which
a petit-maître is apt to regard the fashion of the garments
of one newly arrived from the provinces. His
superior repeated his invitation with warmth, and
waved his hand in a frank but temporary adieu; thus
unconsciously suffering the man to escape him whose
capture would have purchased the long postponed
and still distant advantages for whose possession he
secretly pined, with all the withering longings of a
hope cruelly deferred.
| CHAPTER XI. The Red Rover | |