University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
THE BUCCANIER'S CRAFT.

The boat in which Martin had set off
from the pier to encounter the dangers
of the wind and waters, was a small
wherry, about eighteen feet in length,
and sharp both at the bows and stern.

It contained three seats, one for himself
in the centre, the others being at
each end for the passengers, of which
the boat could carry four. It was a light
fragile skiff, and admirably adapted for
the purposes to which it was put, viz.
conveying passengers, upon the river
from shore to shore, or to and from vessels
anchored in the stream.

Martin had not rowed many yards
from the pier before he found that he had
entered upon a perilous task. The waves
dashed the little boat so wildly about
that he could scarcely get any hold upon
the water with his oars. Every moment
or two the spray would fly over them
drenching them to the skin. Still he
rowed onward in a direct line as well as
he could for the darkness; for the person
who had employed him, and who sat
silently in the stern, had commanded
him as he launched from the pier to lay
his course for the opposite shore. Every
pull of the bending oars was attended
with imminent danger. There lay in
their way numerous small vessels, whose
hawsers were run against in the darkness,
and twice nearly overturned the
boat.

`This is a perilous time to be on this
river, sir,' said Martin, as they came sud
denly against a coal-lugger that lay moored
in their course, and which they struck
with great violence.

`Yes, but unless you think it is impossible
to proceed, keep on,' answered
the gentleman calmly, as if the dangers
to which he had exposed the boatman
were not also shared by himself. `Are
we in the middle of the river, yet?'

`Yes, sir, I should think so,' answered
Martin, scarcely able to speak for the
rain and sleet that beat into his face; for
in rowing he could not protect himself
from its violence.

`Then pull directly for the smuggler's
schooner which has been two or three
days laying off here. Do you know where
she lays?'

`It may be hard to find her to-night,
sir, but I know her position. Let me
see! Those two lights astern are in the
window of the Kings' tavern! I know
them well, and excellent beacons they
are to us boatmen in the night. The
possition of the black schooner, sir,
would be farther down so as to bring
those two lights into one. For I noticed
that she lay in range of the frigate which
bears so from the tavern.'

`Then try and find the frigate; and as
the schooner lays under the frigate's
guns, you will then fall aboard of her
easily. Pull heartily, my brave fellow,
and you shall have two guineas when
you get back.'

Two guineas! The promise made his
heart leap, and how his sinewy arms
made his little bark leap too! He thought

of Martha's joy, now that the twenty
pounds could be more than made up, and
her father be permitted to remain with
them. He thought, too, of her faith, and
words of trust and confidence in Providence,
and tears of shame and gratitude
come into his eyes. In his heart of hearts
he blessed Martha for her teachings. He
resolved never more to mistrust the morrow.

In a few moments his passenger, who
was keenly on the watch for the frigate
discovered its dark form painted upon
the darkness close to them with scarcely
visible outline. Yet he could see that
it was a large vessel. Martin also beheld
it, and rowed round it his little boat, wildly
tossed upon the waves, and every moment
in danger of being swamped. Having
passed close under the frigate's stern,
from one of the windows of which a light
shone out brightly upon the water, they
beheld also the schooner not fifty yards
distant, her tall slender spars just perceptible
through the gloom to their vigilant
eyes, now more accustomed to the
darkness. As they drew near it they
discovered a lantern on her quarter-deck
which had before been concealed by
some intervening object. This object
they discovered, when within twenty feet,
to be a sentry, who, catching the sound
of their oars, challenged them.

`Boat ahoy! keep off or I will fire into
you!'

`I would see the lieutenant in command,'
said the gentleman in the boat
speaking in a tone of authority.

At the same instant Martin after, by
his order, pulling close aboard, shipped
his oars, and sprang forward to prevent
his boat from striking heavily against
the schooner. He grasped a stay within
his reach, for the main-chains of the
schooners were not two feet from the
water, and quickly secured his painter
to it, while he kept the skiff from stav
ing. The sentry in the meanwhile had
come to the side with his lanthorn, the
light of which he cast full upon the boat
and those in it; when seeing there were
only two men, he ordered them on
board.

`I cannot leave my boat,' answered
Martin, who with difficulty kept it clear
of the side of the vessel, and whose presence
in it was therefore necessary for its
preservation; for the waves knocked it
about like a feather.

`I don't hear you,' answered the sentry,
shouting back. `Speak louder. Are
you coming on board?'

`I am,' answered the stranger, going
forward past Martin and leaping into the
main chains.

`Shall I wait, sir?' asked the boatman,
by no means relishing being on
board, or even so near a vessel which
had been a few days before seized in the
river for piracy and smuggling, and was
now with her crew all on board as prisoners,
awaiting their fate. He was also
anxious to return to Martha, whom he
knew would feel constantly anxious about
him, accustomed as she was to his frequent
and long absences from home in
his boat.

`You need not wait, my brave fellow,'
he said. `Take these! I can go ashore
in one of the schooner's boats.'

As he spoke, he placed in Martin's
hand two guineas. The poor young man
was almost overwhelmed with joy.—
These two guineas lifted at once from
his heart and mind the heaviest load
they had ever borne. He saw now liberty
to his wife's father and happiness and
peace once more a dweller by their
hearth-stone.

`Thank you, sir. God bless you, sir,'
he cried with emotion. `If you would
rather I should wait for you, I will gladly,
sir. Perhaps the crew of the vessel
may not be able to find the pier in the

dark, and I shall be sure to land you
right, if the storm don't blow worse than
it has.'

`It can hardly do that, I should say,'
answered the nobleman. `If you will
remain, do so, for I think I shall be
safer with you than in a heavier boat.'

`Thank you, sir,' answered the grateful
Martin, who felt that he would do
any thing to serve him; for he looked
upon him as the deliverer of his wife's
father from prison by his rich donation,
and the author of all the joy that was
now to be theirs.

`Come aboard, boatman, and drop
your boat astern by the line and let her
swing,' said a man coming to the side
and casting to him a small line, which
he caught and made fast to the ring of
his wherry in the bows. He then leaped
on board of the schooner and let his
skiff fall astern till she swung clear.—
Here by the rays of the lantern which
had lighted all these proceedings, he saw
her dancing as lightly as a cockle shell
upon the wild waves.

`Have you spoken to the lieutenant in
charge?' asked the nobleman in that tone
of command and self-possession which
the soldier felt could only belong to one
accustomed to authority. He, therefore,
very respectfully replied,

`I have sent his man below into the
cabin, sir, to inform him that you wish
to see him. Here is the man returned.'

`The lieutenant says that I must show
them down, if there are but two and their
business is urgent,' answered the valet.
`It is too stormy for him to come on
deck, he says; and he wonders what
should send any man in his senses aboard
at this time.'

`My business is urgent. I alone wish
to see him, soldier,' said the nobleman,
all the while keeping his features strictly
concealed; a sort of masking which the
piercing storm rendered quite necessary,
but which was evidently studied.

`This way, sir,' said the valet, who was
evidently anxious to get under shelter.

And he hastily led the way to the companion-doors
which he threw open and
held back till the stranger descended.—
He then closed them to shut out the
rain, and entering the cabin, announced
the visitor. The lieutenant, who was
placed temporarily in charge of the vessel,
was laying at his length upon a settee
in a handsome cabin, reading a book.
Upon hearing his valet announce the person
who had come off to see him, he
without rising glanced impatiently towards
him and said, without scarcely
looking at him,

`Well, sir, you must have been confoundedly
anxious to see me to put off in
such a storm. None but a bum-baliff or
a poor devil to borrow a guinea would
have taken the river to-night. Whom
have I the honor of addressing? You
seem to keep covered and muffled here
as if it stormed in the cabin!' and the
officer, who was a hard featured seaman
and blessed with not the most amiable
physiognomy that ever was, got up from
the lounge and stood upon his feet, facing
and eyeing him sharply. He had been
reading the Arabian Knights when his
valet came down with the message, and
as he was in the very crisis of the `Open
sesame' of the Forty Thieves, he was
not a little angry at being interrupted;
and as he could not conceive that any
decent person would be abroad in such
a night, he took it for granted that the
visitor was some fellow whom he might
treat as petulantly as he felt

But as the stranger stepped into the
cabin and displayed a figure, even the
absence of the features, tall and commanding,
and an air that of a gentleman,
he began to eye him closely and with
misgiving; for he began to mistrust that

he had been speaking thus snappishly to
a superior officer. At any rate he perceived
plainly, without seeing his face,
that he was certainly a person of consideration.

`Dismiss your valet, and I will converse
with you freely,' answered the
stranger in a tone of dignified self-command.

The officer, with his manner much
changed, said to the man,

`Leave the cabin. Be seated, sir!'

`Are we where we can be unheard?'
asked the gentleman, looking around.

`Yes, sir,' responded the lieutenant,
all the while trying to penetrate the folds
of the cloak, which concealed the visiter's
face.

`Then I will make known to you who
I am,' answered the stranger, `and
the purpose of my visit.'

As he spoke he dropped the cloak
from his face, when the lieutenant, with
a look of surprise and profound respect,
recognised the features of Lord Percival,
one of the cabinet of the Crown.

`Pardon me, my lord, but I was not
aware that I had such a distinguished
visiter.' said the lieutenant, bowing with
respect and at the same time coloring
with confusion. `I did not expect to see
any body aboard in such a tempest.'

`No apologies are necessary, lieutenant.
I have come on board on business
connected with the prisoner you have
charge of.'

`The Captain Bonfield, my lord!'

`Yes. I wish to have an interview
with him, and one strictly private.—
Where is he confined?'

`In the ward-room, with his two officers.'

`Will you have him brought here?'

`At once, your lordship,' answered
the officer promptly; and taking a light,
he passed out of the cabin by a door forward,
and came to a part of the deck
where three men in chains were confined.
Near them stood a sentinel with
a cutlass. Two of the men were lying
down asleep upon a mattrass; but the
other, a man of short stature and herculean
breadth of shoulders, was pacing
up and down the narrow space between
them and the after hatchway. He was
about forty years of age, with a dark
countenance and piercing grey eyes.—
The expression of his face was pleasing,
and yet remarkably resolute. He was
dressed in a seaman's pilot-coat, closely
buttoned to his neck. His wrists were
ironed, and a heavy ball of iron was
chained to his ankle.

As the officer approached him with
the light, he bent his keen glance inquiringly
upon him.

`Captain Bonfield, a gentleman desires
to have some conversation with you
in the cabin. Follow me!'

`I am your prisoner and must obey,'
answered the outlaw; `but I would
thank you to send one of your middies
to carry my iron ball after me.'

`The hangman will soon relieve you
of it, my man!' answered the lieutenant.
`Are you coming, or shall I call
a marine to help you?'

`I will spare you the trouble, sir. If
I were captain again of this vessel, you
would scarcely dare speak to me in this
fashion. But I obey you,' he added,
lifting in his hand the heavy thirty-two
pound ball which was fastened to his leg
by a chain three feet long, and walking
after him. His countenance was stern
and he looked as if he would gladly have
swung the heavy iron at the head of his
keeper. But prudence dictated forbearance.
He was powerless and heavily
ironed as well as guarded; and the
twenty-one men who had been captured
in the vessel with him were, like himself,
in chains forward; so that an attempt
to recover his schooner would have
been madness.

The lieutenant re-entered the cabin
and led the pirate before the noblema
who, after for a moment closely observing
his countenance, said,

`You are Captain Bonfield!'

`I am!' responded the buccaneer firmly
and haughtily.

`I am the Earl Percival. I am come
on board to have a few moments' conversation
with you.'

Bonfield bowed and remained steadily
gazing with curiosity and deep interest
upon the celebrated nobleman whose influence
in the kingdom was second to
that of no other man.

`I will now retire,' said the lieutenant.
`He is so heavily chained, my
lord, that you need not apprehend any
mischief from him. But you had best
have a pistol, as he is a desperate fellow!'

With these words the officer placed a
loaded pistol in the hands of the noblebleman,
who put it aside, saying, with a
smile,

`I do not fear Captain Bonfield.—
There is no fear of our quarreling.'

The officer then, wrapping himself in
his storm coat, went on deck and closed
the cabin doors behind him, wondering
much what important business with the
pirate chief could have brought the first
nobleman of England to an interview
with him in such a night, and under circumstances
so mysterious.

`Now, Captain Bonfield, I wish to
hold with you a few words of private
conversation. I wish you to speak freely,
as I shall, for it may be for your interest.'

`I will hear, my lord, what you have
to say,' said the prisoner quietly.

The nobleman let his eyes rest for a
few seconds upon the dark, intelligent,
bold countenance of the pirate captain,
as if to decide, from a close observation
of his character, in what way he should
open the matter for which he had sought
this interview.

`If you will freely and frankly respond
to my questions and unfold all the truth,
I pledge to you my word that you shall
be pardoned for the past, that is, if you
are willing to serve me afterwards.'

`I am ready to listen to what your
lordship has to propose,' answered Bonfield
in the same quiet but respectful
manner, which had marked his bearing
since he entered. He looked indeed
like a man of the most finished self-possession,
who never betrayed his feelings
by his features, or voice, or speech, but
with the same equanimity could receive
the intelligence of his execution or instant
pardon and release. He had doubtless
learned philosophy in a school of
danger and of reverses, and seen too
many exciting events to be easily moved
by anything. Thus the idea of pardon
did not cause him to change countenance
or move a muscle, though to have freed
himself and escaped the ignominious
death that he knew was before him, he
would have sacrificed his life, if possible,
a hundred times.

`You seem to heed little the suggestion
of pardon for your crimes, Captain
Bonfield,' answered the nobleman, seeing
with surprise his seeming, and only
seeming indifference.

`It may cost me more, my lord, than
I would be willing to pay,' he answered
coldly; `but I can judge better when I
hear what you have to say to me! If you
will permit me, I will sit. My chains
are not feathers, he added, as he took a
chair opposite the nobieman, who, himself
immediately stood up. Bonfield
smiled with a look of derision at this
sensitiveness in his lordship's refusal to
sit at the same time with him.

`Captain,' said lord Percival after a
moments thoughtful reflection, `I have
come to see you upon a very delicate

subject. Let me again repeat that your
crimes shall be forgotten, yourself, men
and vessel released, and a large reward
be paid to you, if you relate the truth
and enter fully into my views and plans.'

`I have nothing to prevent me, my
lord! your proposals are generous! I
will serve you if I can! It is for you
to tell me what your wishes are.'

`You shall hear; but I must begin
by desiring you to go back in memory,
to a period twenty years since! I wish
to recall to your mind a certain night in
October; 181— when you were in command
of a small smuggling schooner called
the `Dart.'

`How did you know that, my lord?'
cried Bonfield almost starting from his
chair, his chains rattling with his movement
of surprise.

`It is not important now to explain;
I wish you to recall the night in question
when, while anchored in the Thames,
you received in charge an infant with
the command to leave the kingdom with
it, for which service you were enriched!
Do you remember such a circumstance
Captain Bonfield?' added the Earl, fixing
his eyes upon the face of the bucanier,
whose countenance betrayed the
most extraordinary emotion.

`How have you learned these things,
my lord?' he exclaimed with a flushed
cheek.

`I have learned them only accidentally.
I am now convinced that it is true.
Your countenance betrays the truth.—
Will you be frank with me and without
reserve or concealment tell me what you
remember about this affair and also what
you did with the infant, and further I
wish to learn if you know who were the
parents of that child. If you will reveal
all you know about the matter you will
receive a reward far beyond your expectations,
besides pardon and freedom.'

`I don't know, my lord,' answered
Bonfield, after a moment's silence, as if
deciding how he should act, `in what
manner you have come to the knowledge
of an affair that I supposed was
known only to myself and one or two
others, parties concerned. But I see no
reason why I should keep a secret that
seems no longer to be such. It is not
for my interest to be silent now, and in
consideration of your promises to me, I
am willing to reveal to you all that you
wish to know!'

`I am gratified at this readiness on
your part, Captain Bonfield, to be open
and communicative. Now please to give
me the circomstances as they occurred.
It is important that I should know all
the facts.'

`Your lordship spoke of my having
been a smuggler; under what name
did I smuggle in that day?'

`Under your own name, that of Vance'
—was the reply. `You see I am in possession
of enough to lead you to make
known to me, without reserve, whatever
remains!'

`I will do so, my lord!' answered
Bonfield. `But I have only your lordship's
word that I shall be pardoned and
set at liberty for what I am about to
communicate. I should be better satisfied
to see it in writing. Words are but
wind! Black and white are always alive
to talk.'

`I wIll write my promise to you, then
if you desire it,' returned the nobleman,
without evincing any displeasure at this
business mode of procedure on the part
of the bucanier.

`Here we have pen and ink, my lord,
and paper also,' said Bonfieid pushing
the writing materials towards him.

The British Earl then took his pen
and dipping it in the stand-dish said to
him,

`I am ready to write! word it your
own way, Captain, only be brief, for I

have but a little while to remain with
you.'

`You may then write down as follows
giving the date:

`I, Edward de Lisle, Earl of Percival,
in consideration that Captain Bonfield
makes to me, a full, clear and truthful
statement of an affair in which he was
concerned, that occured on the night of
October the — in 181—, do hereby promise
him his pardon, liberty, and the restoration
of his vessel and crew, provided
that also for one month afterward he
engages in his service and keeps secret
the subject of this agreement.'

The Earl wrote word for word as
he dictated it, until he came to the
expression `one month' when he stopped,
and said,

`Captain Bonfield, this period of service
cannot be limited, until I know
something further. But we will say
one year!'

`Then be it one year, my lord! But
what shall be the pay to me and my
men?'

`One thousand pounds a month, during
the time!'

`That will do! But I have not said
what shall be my pay for making my
statement to you.'

`It shall be five hundred pounds, provided
that the information shall prove
such as I anticipate!'

`Well, that I will leave to your lordship.
You will please finish and sign
it!'

This the Earl did without any hesitation,
and placed it in his hands. The
bucanier carefully read it over, and then
folding it up, drew from his bosom a
silver tobacco box, and placed it in it!

`That is a beautiful box, Captain Bonfield,'
said the Earl, who thought he recognised
it. `May I have the favor of
looking at it!'

`Certainly, my lord!'

`Ah, this has been a gift!' he exclaimed,
looking at the escutcheon upon it,
with a glow of surprise and pleasure.

`Yes, my lord.'

`And from the party from whom you
received the infant?'

`Yes, my lord.'

`I supposed so. This box is further
evidence of the kind I want.'

`I should be glad to know how your
lordship got wind of this affair!' said
the Captain, putting the box back as well
as he could for the chains on his wrists,
into a pocket within the breast of his
coat.'

`That you shall learn after you have
given me your account of the whole of
the circumstances so far as you were
concerned, Captain,' answered the Earl.

`Then I will at once begin my story,
my lord,' said Bonfield, seating himself
again; `and it shall be a true one. For
I have no motive now in keeping anything
back.'