University of Virginia Library

7. SKETCH SEVENTH.

Southwest of Barrington lies Charles's Isle.
And hereby hangs a history which I gathered
long ago from a shipmate learned in all the
lore of outlandish life.

During the successful revolt of the Spanish
provinces from Old Spain, there fought on
behalf of Peru a certain Creole adventurer from
Cuba, who, by his bravery and good fortune, at
length advanced himself to high rank in the
patriot army. The war being ended, Peru
found itself like many valorous gentlemen, free
and independent enough, but with few shot in

the locker. In other words, Peru had not
wherewithal to pay off its troops. But the
Creole—I forget his name—volunteered to take
his pay in lands. So they told him he might
have his pick of the Enchanted Isles, which
were then, as they still remain, the nominal appanage
of Peru. The soldier straightway embarks
thither, explores the group, returns to
Callao, and says he will take a deed of Charles's
Isle. Moreover, this deed must stipulate that
thenceforth Charles's Isle is not only the sole
property of the Creole, but is forever free of
Peru, even as Peru of Spain. To be short, this
adventurer procures himself to be made in effect
Supreme Lord of the Island, one of the princes
of the powers of the earth.[1]

He now sends forth a proclamation inviting
subjects to his as yet unpopulated kingdom.
Some eighty souls, men and women, respond;

and being provided by their leader with necessaries,
and tools of various sorts, together with
a few cattle and goats, take ship for the promised
land; the last arrival on board, prior to
sailing, being the Creole himself, accompanied,
strange to say, by a disciplined cavalry company
of large grim dogs. These, it was observed
on the passage, refusing to consort with
the emigrants, remained aristocratically grouped
around their master on the elevated quarter-deck,
casting disdainful glances forward upon
the inferior rabble there; much as, from the
ramparts, the soldiers of a garrison, thrown into
a conquered town, eye the inglorious citizen-mob
over which they are set to watch.

Now Charles's Isle not only resembles Barrington
Isle in being much more inhabitable
than other parts of the group, but it is double
the size of Barrington, say forty or fifty miles
in circuit.

Safely debarked at last, the company, under
direction of their lord and patron, forthwith
proceeded to build their capital city. They
make considerable advance in the way of walls
of clinkers, and lava floors, nicely sanded with

cinders. On the least barren hills they pasture
their cattle, while the goats, adventurers by
nature, explore the far inland solitudes for a
scanty livelihood of lofty herbage. Meantime,
abundance of fish and tortoises supply their
other wants.

The disorders incident to settling all primitive
regions, in the present case were heightened by
the peculiarly untoward character of many of
the pilgrims. His Majesty was forced at last
to proclaim martial law, and actually hunted
and shot with his own hand several of his rebellious
subjects, who, with most questionable
intentions, had clandestinely encamped in the
interior, whence they stole by night, to prowl
barefooted on tiptoe round the precincts of the
lava-palace. It is to be remarked, however,
that prior to such stern proceedings, the more
reliable men had been judiciously picked out
for an infantry body-guard, subordinate to the
cavalry body-guard of dogs. But the state of
politics in this unhappy nation may be somewhat
imagined, from the circumstance that all
who were not of the body-guard were downright
plotters and malignant traitors. At length

the death penalty was tacitly abolished, owing
to the timely thought, that were strict sportsman's
justice to be dispensed among such
subjects, ere long the Nimrod King would have
little or no remaining game to shoot. The human
part of the life-guard was now disbanded,
and set to work cultivating the soil, and raising
potatoes; the regular army now solely consisting
of the dog-regiment. These, as I have
heard, were of a singularly ferocious character,
though by severe training rendered docile to
their master. Armed to the teeth, the Creole
now goes in state, surrounded by his canine
janizaries, whose terrific bayings prove quite
as serviceable as bayonets in keeping down the
surgings of revolt.

But the census of the isle, sadly lessened by
the dispensation of justice, and not materially
recruited by matrimony, began to fill his mind
with sad mistrust. Some way the population
must be increased. Now, from its possessing a
little water, and its comparative pleasantness of
aspect, Charles's Isle at this period was occasionally
visited by foreign whalers. These His
Majesty had always levied upon for port charges,

thereby contributing to his revenue. But now
he had additional designs. By insidious arts he,
from time to time, cajoles certain sailors to
desert their ships, and enlist beneath his banner.
Soon as missed, their captains crave permission
to go and hunt them up. Whereupon His
Majesty first hides them very carefully away,
and then freely permits the search. In consequence,
the delinquents are never found, and
the ships retire without them.

Thus, by a two-edged policy of this crafty
monarch, foreign nations were crippled in the
number of their subjects, and his own were
greatly multiplied. He particularly petted
these renegado strangers. But alas for the
deep-laid schemes of ambitious princes, and
alas for the vanity of glory. As the foreign-born
Pretorians, unwisely introduced into the
Roman state, and still more unwisely made
favorites of the Emperors, at last insulted and
overturned the throne, even so these lawless
mariners, with all the rest of the body-guard
and all the populace, broke out into a terrible
mutiny, and defied their master. He marched
against them with all his dogs. A deadly battle

ensued upon the beach. It raged for three
hours, the dogs fighting with determined valor,
and the sailors reckless of everything but victory.
Three men and thirteen dogs were left
dead upon the field, many on both sides were
wounded, and the king was forced to fly with
the remainder of his canine regiment. The
enemy pursued, stoning the dogs with their
master into the wilderness of the interior. Discontinuing
the pursuit, the victors returned to
the village on the shore, stove the spirit casks,
and proclaimed a Republic. The dead men
were interred with the honors of war, and the
dead dogs ignominiously thrown into the sea.
At last, forced by stress of suffering, the fugitive
Creole came down from the hills and
offered to treat for peace. But the rebels refused
it on any other terms than his unconditional
banishment. Accordingly, the next ship
that arrived carried away the ex-king to Peru.

The history of the king of Charles's Island
furnishes another illustration of the difficulty of
colonizing barren islands with unprincipled pilgrims.

Doubtless for a long time the exiled monarch,

pensively ruralizing in Peru, which afforded him
a safe asylum in his calamity, watched every
arrival from the Encantadas, to hear news of
the failure of the Republic, the consequent
penitence of the rebels, and his own recall to
royalty. Doubtless he deemed the Republic
but a miserable experiment which would soon
explode. But no, the insurgents had confederated
themselves into a democracy neither Grecian,
Roman, nor American. Nay, it was no
democracy at all, but a permanent Riotocracy,
which gloried in having no law but lawlessness.
Great inducements being offered to deserters,
their ranks were swelled by accessions of
scamps from every ship which touched their
shores. Charles's Island was proclaimed the
asylum of the oppressed of all navies. Each
runaway tar was hailed as a martyr in the cause
of freedom, and became immediately installed
a ragged citizen of this universal nation. In
vain the captains of absconding seamen strove
to regain them. Their new compatriots were
ready to give any number of ornamental eyes
in their behalf. They had few cannon, but
their fists were not to be trifled with. So at
last it came to pass that no vessels acquainted
with the character of that country durst touch
there, however sorely in want of refreshment.
It became Anathema—a sea Alsatia—the unassailed
lurking-place of all sorts of desperadoes,
who in the name of liberty did just what they
pleased. They continually fluctuated in their
numbers. Sailors, deserting ships at other islands,
or in boats at sea anywhere in that
vicinity, steered for Charles's Isle, as to their
sure home of refuge; while, sated with the life
of the isle, numbers from time to time crossed
the water to the neighboring ones, and there
presenting themselves to strange captains as
shipwrecked seamen, often succeeded in getting
on board vessels bound to the Spanish
coast, and having a compassionate purse made
up for them on landing there.

One warm night during my first visit to the
group, our ship was floating along in languid
stillness, when some one on the forecastle shouted
“Light ho!” We looked and saw a beacon
burning on some obscure land off the beam.
Our third mate was not intimate with this part
of the world. Going to the captain he said,

“Sir, shall I put off in a boat? These must be
shipwrecked men.”

The captain laughed rather grimly, as, shaking
his fist towards the beacon, he rapped out
an oath, and said—“No, no, you precious rascals,
you don't juggle one of my boats ashore
this blessed night. You do well, you thieves—
you do benevolently to hoist a light yonder as
on a dangerous shoal. It tempts no wise man
to pull off and see what's the matter, but bids
him steer small and keep off shore—that is
Charles's Island; brace up, Mr. Mate, and keep
the light astern.”