University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE PROSPECT.

Let us now, dear reader, suppose a few things rapidly, in order
that we may spare each other some unnecessary detail. You will
please believe that some three days and nights have elapsed since
our last chapter. You are not to suppose that these have been
left unemployed by the several parties to our narrative. You
will take for granted, for example, that the “Happy-go-Lucky”
still keeps close in her snug harbor, some ten miles up the Ashley.
You will conceive, for yourselves, that Lieutenant Molyneaux
has been vigilant in his watch, assisted by his junior officer;
that he has his scouts busy about in the woods, keeping a sharp
look-out for intruders, red or white; that there is no reproach of
lachesse at his doors. Whatever his demerits as a peacock, he
knows what are his duties, and performs them, perhaps quite as
much in compliance with habit as will.

And we must suppose this also of Eckles, and the rest. They
work, too, amazingly well, in the hours in which special tasks are
assigned them, whether in their scouting duties, or in those more
laborious of breaking bulk and transhipping cargo. Several
boats, well stuffed with contraband commodities, have dropped
down the river, and have been disposed of by Calvert, through
familiar channels. These things will seem to you matters of
course.

You are also to take for granted, that the life of the “Happy-go-Luckies”
up the river, in their then almost virgin solitude, has
not been one of unmitigated drudgery. Our captain of the cruiser

is an indulgent master. He knows the nature and the needs of
man, especially of sailors; and his maxim, in regard to their management,
follows scrupulously the rule laid down in the ancient
doggrel:—
and so he pleasantly varies the exercise from work to play; from
tasks, regularly exacted, to amusements in which every freedom,
even to a decree of license, is allowed, consistently with the prosecution
of duty, and the safety of the ship.

So you will please understand that our Jack Tars have had and
are having their fun; frequent enough, in the shade of those great
old oaks up Ashley river. They have planted quite a gymnasium
in one of those mighty amphitheatres of forest, which no grandeur
of art could ever emulate. You see that swings of grapevine are
even now bearing the forms of the fair Zulieme and the brown
Sylvia; that our lieutenants are doing the agreeable, alternately,
in setting the swing in motion which bears the fairy-like figure of
the former; that the sailors amuse themselves in like fashion at
a moderate distance, or in other ways equally rustic. Some of
them play the tomahawk exercise at twenty feet against the trees,
others hurl the bar or pitch the quoit; and you will see not a few
of them using Spanish pieces of eight, vulgarly called “milled dollars,”
in a like manner, the innocent coin being the forfeit to the
most skilful or most lucky of the players. And there are sturdy
fellows stripped to the buff and squaring off, after the excellent
fashion of John Bull, in quarter-staff or pugilism. Crowns are
cracked for a consideration, and “facers” are put in with such
emphasis as to spoil mazzards, purely for fun. Then there are
practical jokes incessantly plied, such as tickle the fancies of Jack
Tar, whether on sea or shore. Lubbers (and there are marines
on board the “Happy-go-Lucky”) are tied in the rigging — that
is, taken with a noose — while the parties straddle upon great
branches, in search of birds'-nests, for curious specimens of which
they have been persuaded to go aloft.

Our ambitious lieutenant refines something upon these antics of
Jack Tar. He calls up the violin of Phipps: he excites the passion

of the fair Zulieme for her national dances; he shares with her,
as before, in the fandango; and he makes her temporarily forgetful
that her levity has brought the cloud upon her husband's visage,
and over her own fortunes. She can not free herself of levity.
With a nature so light as hers, a mind so utterly incapable
of care and thought, forgetfulness is as inevitable as the feeling
of existence; and the natural demands of her gay summer life
require that she should play, and sing, and flit about, and fly, just
so soon as the shower is over, and the sun comes out. It is the mistake
of our lieutenant to suppose that she can be serious enough,
a sufficiently long time, for the purposes of passion. With her, it
is quite enough that she feels lonesome, to begin play. Tell her
that the world is about to tumble to pieces, and she cries out with
a start of terror; but if the world lingers in the process of dissolution,
and she begins to feel dully from the “hope deferred,” she
takes refuge in the free use of legs and arms, and, in the convulsions
of her own merriment, straightway forgets all those which
are to make “chaos come again.”

And while she sings and dances, and wanders off into the
woods, seeking new scenes for sport, gathering flowers as thoughtlessly
as Dis, ere she was herself gathered by the grim lord of
Erebus and Night — with Molyneaux ever watchful of her ways,
and meditating, perhaps, as wickedly as Pluto — we are to suppose
that the eyes of Jack Belcher, solicitous for his master, maintain
as keen a watch over all the parties.

Nor these two merely. There are others on board the “Happy-go-Lucky”
who do not wholly surrender themselves to sport and
play; who have mousing moods, and brood, like political spiders,
in dark corners to themselves, spreading their subtle webs on
every hand, the better to entrap the unwary. These, too, seek
close harbors in the thickets, “michin malico,” even as Antonio
and Sebastian work together in conspiracy, while their monarch
sleeps on the Enchanted island. And upon these, too, the faithful
Jack Belcher has set the keen eyes of suspicion, at least, if not
discovery; and he waits only to be sure, before he undertakes to
help their councils. How far these discontents are encouraged
by Molyneaux, is yet to be seen. But it is known that they are
his favorites, and not in much favor with their captain. For all
of which there are probably good reasons. Enough, in this place,

that Calvert is very far from blind, though it is a part of his policy
not to see a moment too soon. He is quite satisfied, for the
present, that he has a faithful hound upon their tracks, whom he
holds to be quite able to scent them out in all their sinuosities of
progress.

We have shown you that all our parties have been busied, each
in his department, during the three days which have elapsed since
our last chapter. You are to understand that, in this space of
time, no less than four boat-loads of very miscellaneous commodities
have been “run” into the virtuous bosom of the young city.
You will please believe that the commodities so “run” are of very
precious texture and quality; that they comprise bales of silk,
and other stuffs precious to luxury, fashion, and the fair sex; that
there are besides certain bales of cochineal, certain casks of indigo,
larger quantities of naval stores, clothing, provisions, goods and
wares, which we need not enumerate; then, the more bulky articles
are yet to be landed — those only “run” which are most portable
and most precious. Of some ten thousand pieces of eight
(dollars), the fruits of the same prosperous voyage, and the proceeds
of a gallant passage at arms, at close quarters, with a Spanish
galleon of very superior force, bound from Porto Bello to
Havana, we gather no official report as yet. We may hear something
of them hereafter; but we doubt if captain or crew will feel it
necessary to report this particular item either to Governor Quarry,
or even the virtuous agent, Ben Backstay. It is very certain
that Joe Sylvester, the puritan, will never hear a syllable of it.

The arrangements made by our cruiser, and his factotum, Ben
Backstay, whose own claims to virtue have been so modest, have
all been successful. Our cruiser has done his own “camelling,”
and the goods are stored in cell and chamber, in the immediate
keeping of Backstay. He will distribute them in due season, and
through proper agencies. And thus far, that doubtful puritan,
Joe Sylvester, has been kept in profound ignorance (at least, it is
supposed so) of all that has been done. The first intelligence he
will get of the “run” will be the gradual appearance of fine silks
and satins, and shawls and stuffs of rich, unwonted patterns, along
the fashionable purlieus, which range from north to south, along
the avenue, no longer fashionable, which we now call Church
street. The fair women of the infant city will do the first work

in publishing the transaction to the little world in which they wander.
What to them the fact that the stuffs are contraband? nay,
that they are won by the strong hand, upon the high seas, in spite
of law and gospel; and, while England and Spain professedly
keep the peace in European seas, they are here, in this wild hemisphere,
as deadlily hostile as in the days of the Armada; while the
sentiment, feeling, opinion, among their respective peoples, justify
the hostility which their respective governments ignore? The
dear creatures see no treason, or piracy, or blood, or violation of
law, in the color, the quality, the texture, or the beauty, in the fine
manufactures in which they flaunt. Enough that they are fine
and fanciful, make them look fine, and come to them at prices
which would cause the eyes of British dames, could they hear, to
gleam with envy. The best of them see no harm in this mode
of acquisition. They all approve of smuggling in practice; and
the contrabandist is only immoral in a very vague and remote
sort of abstraction, which disturbs no social piety or propriety.

And they are not to be counted any worse, you are to understand,
than the admirable portions of their sex who remain in the
mother-country. You are to know that the Palmetto city, even
at this early day, has its fair proportion of fair women, representing
almost every class in the British empire. No small proportion
of its population has recently come hither from Barbadoes
and other islands, from Virginia, and the Dutch colony of Nova
Belgia (New York). They had lived in most of these places in
rather flourishing fashion; had acquired means, and are emulous
of the state, dignity, and fashions of the old world. And there
are dashing cavaliers among them, with wives and daughters, who
can claim kindred with the old families of Europe — with the
noblesse; who could already boast of that genuine azul sangre
which is almost as much the pride of the British as of the Castilian
race.

And so, already, Charleston (then Charles town) had its castes
and classes, its cliques and aristocracies; in which, people, insisting
upon their rights of rank, grew rank in doing so, and were
guilty of offences against humanity and good sense, such as cried
to Heaven: at all events, made them cry ridiculously loud to
earth. There were people who were “in society” then as now;
who turned up their noses so high, that their eyes failed to recognise

the existence of their nearest neighbors. And there were
very excellent people, who, in spite of virtues and talents, were
dismissed from all regard, even the human, for the simple but
sufficient reason that they were not “in society.” Those talismanic
words, “in society,” signifying a sort of virtues which are
not contained in any catalogue of the virtues which entitle a poor
Christian to any place in the kingdom of heaven.

And so, Charleston had its Lady Loftyhead and Lady High-heels,
Lady Flirtabout and Lady Fluster, and no small number
of a class besides, whom these good ladies universally voted to be
no ladies at all. But not one of them, high or low, in or out of
society, ever found the moral gorge to rise at the idea of smuggled
silks, or even pirate traffic. Nay, the dashing rovers themselves,
men well known to sail under the “Jolly Roger” — so the
flag of piracy was always called — were made welcome, and might
be seen at certain periods to walk the streets of the young city,
arm-in-arm with substantial citizens — nay, to figure in court costume
at the balls of the Ladies Loftyhead, Highheels, Flirtabout,
and Fluster, all satisfied to enjoy the gallantries of the rover without
asking to see too closely the color of his hands. And they
had their reward for this tolerance of the Jolly Rogers, who could
accord none to the classes not “in society.” Many a smuggled
or stolen shawl, scarf, ay, jewel, decorated the person of a noble
dame, the gift of the dashing flibustier; won by the strong hand,
at the price of blood, in the purple waters of the gulf. And society
nowhere, at that period, attached much censure to this mode
of acquisition. Robbery on a large scale has been, among all
nations, considered only a legitimate mode for the acquisition of
wealth; and the natural human sentiment, “in society” at least,
has usually been persuaded to find the justifying moral, in the
degree of peril in which the game of plunder is carried on. He
who risks his life in the spoliation, seems to lift his criminal occupation
into a sort of dignity, which effectually strips it of the ignoble
traits which belong to simple robbery.

But our purpose is not sarcasm. We doubt if the world improves
one jot from all the truths which are told it, especially of
itself; and we doubt if it can improve under any existing condition;
and we half doubt whether it was designed that it should improve,
beyond a certain point; and so we do not so much believe in a

millenium as in a regeneration. We are but the germs for a new
creation, under a new dispensation, and development goes just
so far — and there an end for the present.

But, before we leave the subject of the ladies, especially those
of Charleston, let it be understood that our captain of the “Happy-go-Lucky”
is by no means unknown to fashionable society in that
quarter. He has been “in society” in more natural, that is, less
legal periods. He has figured in the ballrooms of Lady Loftyhead,
and Lady Golightly, and other great people. He has paid
for his privileges. Lady Loftyhead wears his diamond ring on
her finger — Lady Golightly as glorious a pearl necklace, which he
threw over her snowy neck, when she was quite willing that he
should see, to its utmost depths, how fair and white it was; and
it was with Lady Anderson that he contemplated putting the fair
Zulieme in the event of his bringing her to Charleston. He has
yet to ascertain, in what degree of security he stands in the community
— saying nothing of society — before he can venture upon
the hospitality of so magnificent a dame.

And he is now in the process of investigation.

He has “run” his fourth boat-load in safety. This comprises
all the compact and choice articles in his cargo. This rest will
need more force; a greater number of “camels;” a greater degree
of peril. He may now allow himself to see Mr. Joe Sylvester,
formerly one of his most able agents. He will now venture
upon an interview with Governor Robert Quarry, whose virtues
as a politician have saved him from the sin of pharisaism. The
governor does not eschew the society of publicans and sinners.

How Captain Calvert found his way into the private apartments
of his excellency, through what agency of Ben Backstay
and others, we might make a long story. It will suffice that we
find him there, safely ensconced in the chair of Bermuda cane and
manufacture, in which his excellency himself ordinarily sits when
dealing with vulgar people. But Clavert is none of your vulgar
people; and, seen with Quarry, you would say the cruiser is the
lord; the governor, a clever adventurer to whom a roving commission
has been confided by a master.

The two are together. We have seen something of Calvert
already. Of Quarry — but, dealing with a politician now, we must
begin with a new chapter.