'We batten everybody down, leaving one to liberate the people after, then search for our needs, send the booty over the side into the brig, and sail away, Ada—and sail away, my love, a rich, unknown ship. What can they call us? How can the terrified dagos describe us? A British crew won't stop for an enemy to look. She is a brig. They will know that; but should she leave port again, she will be a brigantine. What could they report? And what do you think of my scheme?'
'It is bold, possible, and dishonourable,' she said, with a subtle note of triumph in her voice, and the same high, encouraging colour of sympathy in her face.
'It is not dishonourable,' said he calmly,'for an Englishman to rob a foreigner upon the seas where the Englishman has himself been most atrociously looted by most of the nations you can name. I must live by a dishonourable income or die by my own hand.'
He made a step to her, and taking her cheeks, gently lifted her face to his, and said—
'My life is now in your hands. I have confessed all to the woman I love, have ever loved, shall ever love. Knowing my scheme, Ada, will you be my wife?'
There was no hesitation in her answer. 'Yes.'
How could she resist his pleading presence, his manly candour with her, the love that lighted his eyes, the love that was now the single impulse of her life? Worthier women for more worthless men have consented to go to the devil.
He kissed and released her face, and said, as he stepped from her—
'I shall be a proud man when I have you by my side. We ought to get married soon, Ada. Will you leave it to me to make allthe arrangements, writing under cover to you at this little inn?'
'Yes,' she answered. 'Father will never consent. Only think if he should get to hear——' She stopped herself.
The captain laughed. 'I must be off to the west,' said he, 'in a day or two, in search of suitable vaults and a temporary home for you.'
The girl arched her black eyebrows, and her lips fixed themselves in an expression of determination.
'I must,' he continued, 'discover if there are any smugglers' vaults on the Cornwall coast. I want to get as near to the Land's End as possible. You, without suspicion, can make inquiries amongst the men on the wharf and elsewhere.'
'Will you return for the news I receive?'
'You must write——' And he wrote an address on the fly-leaf of a pocket-book which he gave to her. 'That till next Monday.'
Then, after making arrangements for his writing to her from London, whither hewould have to repair for the further equipment of his little ship when he had done his business down west, he took her in his arms, kissed her, and conducted her from the inn.
At the date of this story, remote as it is, the East India Docks were much as they now are, saving in certain non-essential points, such as the funnel. Dismount the funnel of to-day, and leave the pole-mast schooner rigged with its derrick, and old men of that age, stumbling with flapping skirts and breast-wide hats, would scarcely witness a change.
On a certain day, when, strange to relate, it was fine weather over the Isle of Dogs, a great plenty of tall and stately ships lay in these East India Docks. Some were loaded deep, and ready for the voyage, fresh with paint, and sparkling with the glory of glittering gilt and radiant counters. Some had but recently hauled in, and showed signs ofbitter conflict with the ocean; the red stain drained from the bolt, the bolt was twisted, a length of bulwark was stove.
Up in a corner, inside a fine West Indiaman, lay Captain Jackman's brig, about which we have already heard a great deal. His father had owned her, and when young had sailed her, and in his time had made money out of her. He bequeathed the little ship to his son Walter, praying that he would take good care of her, as she inherited several fine traditions, was the noblest sailer of all vessels so rigged that ever he had known, and was a magnificent sea boat.
They were painting her black this day; the parts the painters over the side were covering showed of a dirty white. They were likewise sending her yards aloft, and Captain Jackman, as he came along, could not fail to admire the exquisite precision with which the two masts were stayed. He saw speed in their gentle devoir to the bow; he stopped a minute to watch the painters, and to observe the man who was gilding the small figure-head under the long bowspritover-laid by the jibbooms. He then went on board.
A man dressed in the style of a master-rigger touched his cap on Jackman's entering. A number of hands were in motion about the decks; the little ship was full of business, there had evidently come some final call.
'Well, Tomson,' said Jackman to the man who had touched his cap, 'how are you getting on?'
'Smartly, sir. Your ship shall be ready for you by your date.'
'Can you contrive to convert that maintop into a schooner rig on emergency?'
'It can be done, sir.'
As the man spoke these words a messenger came over the gangway and handed the captain a letter. He looked at it, slightly changed colour, and walked right aft, where he was alone. The missive, dated from Commander Conway's house, ran thus—
'My dearest Walter,
'I hasten to communicate what I hope will prove a useful piece of intelligenceto you. I have been busily making inquiries about disused smugglers' caves down west, with this result. A sailor named Butler came to me yesterday and said he could produce a man, a rather old man, who could furnish information of a curious cave striking from the roof of the cliff to the wash of the sea. It had not been used since 1807, but you can still at ebb walk from the lower orifice on to the beach, and from the next to the lower orifice you can use a boat whilst the tide is making. I will give you the name and address of the owner on your passing through here, asthatyou must do, for it is my particular desire to see you.
'How far has been your advance in this tremendous business? Pray do not be communicative to strangers. Are not you apt to be a little candid, and to forget that you were so? The sailor is a character of perfect sensibility, and he has to carefully guard himself against the worldly people he meets ashore—people who will wring his business out of him, and then, if they can make no use of it, fling it to the dogs. Oh, I quite forgot to say in its place that with thesesubterranean stairs to the sea is associated a little house that stands close to the main entrance, and you can enter it by a manhole in the house itself. This might prove useful.
'The district is very desolate, the old man told me—a livid, gale-swept moor with no habitation within a good drive. Revenue people, I am informed, are occasionally seen on that part of the coast, but at such long intervals that they might as well be viewed as strange objects of interest. The revenue cutter may also be seen plying off the land; but her business would seem to be far higher up.
'I am never weary of admiring your glorious gift. Oh, how beautifully it sparkles by candlelight! My father's mood is as stern and unbending as ever. I believe he would strike me if I even referred to you. I heard Captain Burgoyne asking, in his coarse way, which the commander relishes, "Don't you want your wench to get married at all, Conway? Suppose you pop off on a sudden—and I may tell you I've long viewed with anxiety that stout throat and immensechest of yours—what is your girl to do? She is unmated. Who is to look after her? And she is pre-eminently one of those young parties who need looking after."
'I was listening greedily halfway up the stairs, down which I was coming at the moment of arrest, dressed for a visit. My father answered, "I am not going to have for a son-in-law a man who may end his career at the gibbet within the next month." "Chaw! you dined with him. He was an honourable gentleman then." My father began to bluster. Here stupid Mrs. Dove came creaking downstairs, and called to me to go into the hall and turn that she might admire me.
'All the same I managed to catch a fragment of Captain Burgoyne's remark. "He is good-looking. He is qualified to command a ship. He can handle a ship when he pleases." "No," thundered the commander—and as I passed through the hall door, after giving Mrs. Dove a nod—"Are you," shouted my father, "going to be satisfied with his cool statement of that large loss of money?"
'I could not linger, as Mrs. Dove was watching me with affectionate interest from the staircase, and so I left the house. Nothing that my father can say can affect my love. I am dying to be your wife, and you will find me ready at the first signal you hoist. Wherever you are I am, in spirit and devotion.'
She concluded in terms of fervent affection.
The captain kissed the letter, and read it twice, and whilst he was putting it in his pocket with the care of a document worth thousands, he was hailed from the quay alongside.
'How d'ye, Jackman?'
He looked over and saw a middle-aged man dressed in the pilot cloth of the master's wear.
'How are you, Phillips?'
'Any good news for me in that letter you've just now pocketed?'
Jackman made no reply.
'Got a ship yet?'
The other flourished his hand over his brig.
'Ah, but that's the monkey eating his own tail.' After a pause—'Has any further news,' cried the captain on the quay, 'been heard of the money you were robbed of?'
'It's long ago washed down fifteen hundred throats, and purchased enjoyment of fifteen hundred hideous revelries,' answered Jackman, nodding and smiling; and saying this, he passed forward, and the captain ashore walked on, with a single turn of his head to gaze at the ship, as if considering Jackman's business in fitting her out and how much the job cost.
Jackman was a master in expression of face; had he combined the other necessary qualities he would have been the greatest actor of his day, and risen to the large reputation of Mr. Kemble or Mr. Kean. Nobody but must have imagined that he was vastly tickled by the inquiries about the stolen money sung up by the captain on the quay. His face, having recovered from its smile, wore its ordinary placid and even sweet expression, and with that face upon him he conversed about the affairs of the brig with the man who had touched his hatto him on his entering the vessel. He did not carry the dramatic airs of the sailor; that generation of seamen were leaving those airs for the American boasters to import. He looked a thorough gentleman, dressed indeed with some reference to his vocation, but as one who does not love to represent himself a sailor by his clothes.
He roamed a little while about his brig, and spoke a friendly word here and there to some of the men.
This brig would be laughed at in this age as a heavy old waggon, and so she showed as she sat upon the water, because of her very square stern, her breadth of beam, and the very preposterous steeve which they gave to their bowsprits in the beginning of this age. Yet, carrying lofty masts, and being very square-rigged, she did not show as the stumpy bulk which she looked when you gazed forward from her taffrail. Her lines at her cutwater, running well aft, might have been laid in Aberdeen, and, though she was plump aft, they had given her a lift of counter which raised her after-part clear of that drawing roll of sea, which plumpships of this sort are in the habit of dragging with them. On deck she was simply equipped as a trading brig should be. She had a little green caboose for cooking the men's dinner in; a forecastle under deck, with a square hole to enter by, painted casks for liquor and meat; skylights aft, and a plain companion conducting to the cabin.
Such was the brigGypsy, 180 tons, Jackman commander, bequeathed to him by his father, who had also received her as a bequest fromhisfather.
He lingered on board the greater part of the day, superintending the business of fitting out, but in a furtive sort of way, almost noticeable to any one with sharp sight, as though, in fact, he did not belong to the brig. He went ashore at five o'clock, walking slowly, and carefully reading his sweetheart's letter.
A journey by coach to anywhere, in the time of this book, was an achievement more or less significant. Men made their wills before their departure. They were in the right. What are the risks of the rail as compared with the risks of the road? Youhave the collision. In the good old times you had the masked highwayman with the loaded pistols, and the horrible threat; you had the deep ditch into which the great lumbering coach, in some transport of downhill manœuvring, was overset. You had lanes of mud, in which all got out and shoved; you had the dangers of long exposure to the air, so that when you finally arrived you were nearly dead with some affection of the chest.
Some hundreds of miles away from London, measurable now in a day by steam, in those times in about a week, stood a little village of the hard Cornwall grey stone that makes Penzance, in spite of its architecture, picturesque. The village was on the coast, distant about two miles from the sea, and was pretty with many little gardens, and remarkable in its air of genial originality; as though, having grown so far afield, it had borrowed its prejudices nowhere. A village inn fronted the high road. It swung the sign of 'Nelson.' Nelson was still much in the public mind in those days. A stoutly built fellow in a lazy,lounging walk, came to the door, and, looking up the road, said to some one within—
'What makes the coach late?'
'They time themselves out o' greediness, and can't keep their word!' exclaimed a female voice.
Now, as this was said, a noise of distant thunder was heard, and lo! the coach, at hard gallop, turned the corner, the guard bugling, and the foam flaking from the horses' mouths. It rattled up, with all the fine effect of those glistening, grandly handled vehicles, to the door of the 'Nelson,' and stopped, the horses blowing smoke, and one white female face, prim in a Quaker's bonnet, staring through an inside window.
There was a single traveller on top of the coach. He had his cloak rolled well around him, and descended with the movements of a half-frozen man. He asked for something to eat and drink, and was shown into a parlour where, with as little loss of time as possible, they served him handsomely with chops and potatoes and excellent beer.He then produced a pipe, and sat with his feet to the fire. On the entrance of the landlord to remove the dishes, Captain Jackman said languidly—
'Can I have a bed in your house?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I am here to visit a man named Thomas Bruton. Do you know him?'
'Well, I've known Tom half my life.'
'Do you think he would come across and talk with me on a business matter I have in mind?'
'I'll fetch him for you now, sir. If he's out, he can't be far off. He lives but five doors down.'
The landlord went out with a load of plates and dishes, and Captain Jackman sat musing in front of the fire, of whose warmth and comfort he was greatly in need. After a short absence the landlord returned, accompanied by a man whose extremely ugly face discovered many marks of astonishment. He bobbed from side to side to catch a view of the gentleman who wanted him. He wore a little grey wig, and was deeply pitted with small-pox; he was blind of one eye,and the other looked into his nose, so that it amazed those he conversed with that he saw them.
'Is it Thomas Bruton that you want, gentleman?' said the man, stepping round the table to the side of the captain and staring at him.
'Are you he?' answered Jackman, rising and smiling.
'Ay, and not ashamed of it,' responded the fellow, whose appearance was decidedly villainous.
'I want ten minutes' talk with you; sit down. Landlord, fetch this gentleman a pint of ale, and kindly leave us.'
This was done. Bruton continued to run his malevolent eye with amazement all over the captain, who resumed his seat.
'I understand,' began Captain Jackman, 'that you are the proprietor of a little property, some twelve or fifteen miles down the coast here, called Bugsby's Hole.'
'They're right who says so,' answered the man, sitting squarely before his liquor.
'You want to sell it?'
'To him as 'll buy, yes.'
'First, what's your price?'
'Sixty pound cash down. I've lived in that house myself, and can warrant it.'
'I'll give you that money for it, if the house and the neighbourhood and the cave suit me,' said Jackman.
'You want the cave too!' said the man, with an ugly expressive grin.
'I buy the house because I may require the cave.'
'Well,' said the man after a little reflection, 'ye shall have the cave in. First class of their sort they are; but they never would ha' been included if ye hadn't offered for the house outright, nor would I ha' been willin' to let the house on any terms.'
'So I had gathered, and was prepared for. Ask no questions,' said the captain, 'and I'll ask none. When can I view the property?'
Bruton pulled out a heavy gold watch.
'Not to-day!' exclaimed the captain, 'I am dog-tired. Can you procure a vehicle so that we may start to-morrow at about ten o'clock?'
'Right, sir!' said the man with a great manner of cheerfulness.
At the hour named Bruton drove up to the 'Nelson Inn' in a light cart drawn by a small strong horse, and Captain Jackman got in. A little crowd had collected to witness their going. A stranger was the rarest of coast gulls in those parts. His face, his apparel, his bearing, suggested a distant place and another sort of civilization. Bruton flicked his horse, and they started down a pebbly roaring road. There was no talking. They went over ruts and ridges presently at a rate of about ten miles an hour, and the captain was flung over Bruton's knee, and still there was no talking.
At last they came to a level plain of moor, sallow, discoloured, desolate as the edge of coast and rim of sea that was now sweeping round to their progress so as to meet them. Then the captain could make Bruton hear this—
'Do you ever use your house for the running of goods?'
'Who are you that I should reportmyself?' And the squint turned fiercely upon Jackman.
'Oh, I can be candid with such as you,' exclaimed the captain, with a loud laugh. 'Youdon't peach. You have secrets which keep you men of honour. See here, now.' He laid his hand upon Bruton's shoulder, and said, 'I am pirate and smuggler!'
'Where have you been running?'
'Folkestone.'
'Ye h'ant got the looks of one of us.'
'I am a gentleman,' exclaimed Jackman warmly, 'with as determined a resolution to make a fortune as others have. The sea promises a good yield. You must have done well out of her to live without work at your time of life.'
'The ocean's paid me well. I'm bound to say that,' said Mr. Bruton, relaxing. 'And since you're so free, so'll I be. The cottage and the cave I'm a-driving you to, and which'll soon heave in sight, was used by me and my missis and the children as a dwelling-house and a storeroom for the choicest of the run goods, the rest being stowed in secret places, or in the steps.'
'The steps,' echoed the captain.
'Ay, you can step down to the foam of the water. It's a low front of cliff hereabouts.'
'Were you successful in your hidings?'
'To tell you the truth,' the man answered in a grumbling note of laughter, 'we were so rarely troubled that I believe we came off with nigh everything we got ashore.'
'Piracy is a dangerous trade,' said Captain Jackman, talking to this man as if he was a brother pirate. 'My ship is not to be seen once too often in that market, and newly rigged and freshly painted, she may complete the sum of money I want, and which as a gentleman I cannot possibly live without, if we rig her afresh and paint her a new colour.'
Bruton turned his squint eye upon his companion. He scarcely knew what to think of him. 'Where's your gang?' said he.
'I have men fit to board and capture a line-of-battle ship,' was the answer.
Bruton pointed dumbly ahead with hiswhip; and Jackman saw a little cottage upon the horizon, the most melancholy picture in the world under the grey sky, and set to the music of the wind that was now coming a little wildly off that opening eye of sea on their left. They drove rapidly, and drew up at the cottage door. It was a strong house, fit for a powder-magazine, built of Cornish flag, put together with a heedlessness of aspect that lent it beauty of the roughest sort.
It had several little windows on either side, a fair piece of ground plotted out at the back, a small front garden, and was certainly a dead broke bargain with its stairs, even for moral living, at the money asked.
Bruton made his horse fast, pulled out a key, and they entered his singular, very much detached house. It was dusty and grimy, and showed a great plenty of beer stains, and rum stains, and perhaps blood stains. It was naked to the windows of furniture. It stood waiting for the hurricanes of that iron coast to beat it down and lay its spirit to soil.
'This will do,' said Jackman, after looking over the house. 'Show me your stairs, Mr. Bruton.'
But first Mr. Bruton exposed a number of secret hiding-places in the house itself, the sight of which greatly delighted Captain Jackman. They were perfect, he thought, as places of concealment. They next went to the stairs. These were entered from without. They had no trap or cover.
'What's the good of a hatch?' said Mr. Bruton, descending.
The sea-flash in the base gave them light, and the light behind followed them. Mr. Bruton pointed to one or two avenues in which he said Captain Jackman and his hearties would find hiding-places—none more perfect along the coast, all open now, and so discoverable, being no longer needed. They stood on a step clear of the massive belch of the breaker.
'There's some fine weather here for landing, I suppose?'
'If there wasn't,' said Mr. Bruton, 'how should I be now worth my fourteen thousand pounds, two 'ouses, not counting this one,and a comfortable lugger for my diversion, if I hadn't snicked it all off the revenue?'
'Good, come up,' cried Captain Jackman, with excitement. 'Let your gains be mine, and I'll bless your name.'
'Will you buy the house?' said the man.
'Yes,' answered the captain, 'and return with you to the town, where you'll recommend me to people who'll clean and furnish it comfortably whilst I am away on business elsewhere.'
'That shall be done, sir, and under my superintendence,' said Bruton, as they emerged, followed by the distant hollow roar of the sea.
* * * * *
Commander Conway strode impatiently about his little parlour. It was breakfast time, and there was a smell of fried fish in the house. Putting his head out he caught sight of Mrs. Dove at the end of the passage, and cried—
'Why does Miss Ada keep me waiting? Go and let her know that breakfast is ready, and tell her to come down, dressed or undressed.'
He was warm with temper, and wiped his face. His daughter had for years been a mortification to him in a quiet way. She would snub him in company, she would decline to walk with him. She was for ever expressing detestation of the place, knowing that her father, in stern reality, could not afford a move. In the depths of his soul, the old gentleman felt a little sick of these yearly experiences of his, and was perfectly willing to marry her to any one whom he should think fit to be her husband. Jackman was not that man. What was there in that man that made the austere, keen-eyed commander witness a character in his beauty invisible to the girl? Conway had mixed with men, and knew human nature. Of one dark side of man's character or spirit he could claim a particular knowledge.
These thoughts ran in his head whilst he waited. Suddenly he heard Mrs. Dove, who was a very slow woman, come tumbling downstairs, and in a moment she had fallen against Conway.
'What now?' said the commander, sternly thrusting her back.
'As I live to say it, sir,' cried the poor old lady, in broken tones of purest agitation and fright, 'Miss Ada didn't sleep under your roof last night!'
The enraged commander studied the old working face with a gaze horrible with menace, then thrusting past her he went upstairs and entered his daughter's room. The bed had been untouched. Certainly she had said 'Good-night' to him on the landing. She had left when the house was in darkness, suppose an hour after saying 'Good-night.' With whom had she eloped? Most undoubtedly with that scoundrel, Captain Jackman.
The commander stood in the middle of his daughter's room, looking round him. His strong breast hove a sob once, and he muttered to himself, 'What shall I do?' The runaway had ten hours' advantage of any pursuit; but whither, to what place should she be pursued? Had she left no note, no communication? But then, although she had not slept in her bed,hadshe eloped? The commander went downstairs to eat his breakfast.
Mrs. Dove stood in the room, white with anxiety and agitation.
'Oh, commander, is she gone, do you think? Is she gone off, do you imagine, with the sea captain?' And she wrung her hands, and her face worked in wrinkles.
'With whom else?' sternly replied the commander, seating himself before his favourite fried sole, and beginning a breakfast that scarcely promised its usual heartiness.
'What can be done, sir, to save her?'
'Don't you know, ma'm,' answered the commander, 'it has been said, that the virtue that needs a sentinel is not worth guarding? What wouldyoudo to save her? She's ahead of us by ten or eleven hours. The heart of ice had no damned right to leave me without a single farewell or word of her intention.'
'I can't believe that, sir. Ican'tbelieve she'd go off without leaving a note. I'll make another search.'
She stumped upstairs. The commander ate his fish, often looking hard out of the window. Keen distress worked in his bosom.But his face of iron masked it. She had left no letter, he thought to himself.Shewould have no talent at kindness in unkindness. She must sheath her knife to the hilt to make the stroke effectual to her. As he thought thus, Mrs. Dove entered bearing a note. Her face had lost its working wrinkles of horror; she entered with something of gaiety.
'I've found this behind the dressing-table, where it had been blown down by the draught from the open window. I knew—I knew, dear heart, she wouldn't go away without saying good-bye.'
She handed the letter to the commander, who quietly put down his knife and fork, took the letter, and read—
'Commander Conway, R.N.'
He then opened the letter. It was of two folded sheets, with very little in them, and the missive ran thus—
'Dear Father,
'I am eloping to-night with my darling Walter Jackman. This uncomfortable form of marriage need not havehappened had you proved reasonable, but you were ever in extremes in your likes and dislikes. I am now going to be happy after many years of dulness and contemptible vexations, where my beauty was fast yellowing, and where I had not a friend whom I valued. I do not say where we are going, for I do not want you to give yourself the trouble of following me. It is impossible for you to miss me. We saw so little of each other. It was only the sense of my being in the house that gave you satisfaction. I will write to you when I am settled, and shall hope to hear from you. And so, with love, and a kiss of farewell, and begging you will not take this too much to heart,
'I am,'Your always affectionate daughter,'Ada Conway.'
'Always affectionate daughter!' rasped out the commander, bringing his fist down on a sheet of the letter. 'How do you like the notion of calling Ada Conway Mrs. Walter Jackman?'
And he ground his teeth, and left the breakfast-table.
'I am glad I found the letter,' said Mrs. Dove. 'It shows she's not so bad. But, oh, she's wicked—she's wicked to treat her poor old father so.'
Conway cut the old woman short by stepping on to his lawn. He filled a pipe, and paced to and fro. A little cannon stood at each corner of this lawn, and amidships there had been reared a mighty flagstaff, which one night came down in a gale of wind with an incredible thunder of noise. It did little mischief; yet had it struck the commander's house, it is odds, seeing that his bedroom immediately faced it, if it had not smashed him as flat as his roof.
He walked for some time meditating in exasperation. He was helpless. What could he do? Presently there came along the cliff's side, within easy hail of the commander, Mr. Leaddropper and Captain Burgoyne. Both men were wrapped in stout pilot-cloth, and the sea never shaped, chiselled, coloured, clothed, and sent adriftto get a living a more perfect sailor than Burgoyne.
They saw Conway, and came rolling across.
'Sorry to hear the bad news, commander,' said Leaddropper.
Conway stared. 'How the devil should you know it?' he roared. 'It's scarcely known to myself yet!'
'We met the butcher, who had called for orders,' said Burgoyne. 'You'll never get a servant to keep a secret. And it's nigh halfway over the town already.'
'Commander,' exclaimed old Leaddropper in a broken voice, 'I am truly sorry for you.'
'A plague on all sorrow!' burst out Conway, breathing short.
'But it's the business of all parents to get their daughters married,' continued the pilot; 'and you weren't going to find soundings for her in that way here. She's done for herself; and since she's done it, why,' cried he, with a rollicking air, 'let us take the earliest occasion to drink their healths!'
'Leaddropper,' said Burgoyne, who sawthat Conway could scarcely contain his rage, 'I don't think the commander rightly relishes this talk just now. Can I be of any service to you?' he exclaimed, frankly addressing Conway.
'Thanks. I am an old man, and this blow has somewhat stunned me. She was my only child, and I am a widower. I should wish for prudent counsel. Although they be married, I should like to know whether she's not to be torn from the beggar's embraces, and brought back here and locked up clear of him.'
His companions gravely shook their heads.
'Have you any idea where she's gone to?' asked the pilot.
'To sea in the beggar's brig; that's my opinion.'
'So he's got a brig,' said the pilot, interested. 'He may turn out better than you think.'
They discoursed for some time in this style. They were all equally ignorant, and had therefore nothing to suggest or communicate. This idle council concluded bythe commander swearing that he would go to London by next day's coach, visit the owners of theLovelace, and make all human and possible inquiries in the docks about the man Jackman, his brig, his antecedents; and, for all he knew, he might in this way get to find out where his daughter was; for the scoundrel Jackman was pretty certain to make sail for London, where his brig was, and where also he could easily get married.
It was a tremendous undertaking—very expensive, very cold at that time of the year, tedious beyond any words in human speech, and it was now twelve years since the commander had visited the Metropolis on top of a West of England mail-coach. Behold him next day seated on the roof of a stout, handsome, well-apparelled vehicle! On his arrival in London he was nearly dead, in spite of the several comfortable breaks. He had long been used to his own armchair and his own bed, and hated travelling by coach. Nevertheless, here he was at last in that marvellous Metropolis, which staggers the nose more than anyother sense on one's first entry on top of a vehicle from miles of turnips and acres of grain.
It was twelve o'clock in the day. The commander descended stiff from the coach, entered a neighbouring eating-house, where he called for a plate of beef and a pint of ale, which did him good. He then, after making full inquiry, walked to the offices of the owners of the shipLovelace. Only one of her owners was at business. This was the tall, rather gentlemanly man, Sir William Williams, who bent his body in halves when he talked, and preserved most of the styles of the last age. On his learning that the tall gentleman was an owner, the commander told him who he was, and begged for an interview. This was immediately granted, and they repaired together to a small back office, bulk-headed off by glass panels.
'I have travelled many leagues, sir,' began the commander, 'to obtain at this office any information that may enable me to get at one Captain Jackman, who, I bitterly lament to say, after haunting ourparts, has,' he continued, colouring with emotion and shame, 'run away with my daughter, my only child.'
Sir William looked at him gravely and sympathetically. 'I will not go behind anything your feelings may dictate,' he said. 'We hold our own opinion of the fellow at this office. I do not think it's likely that he will find employment under any other house-flag, let alone ours. His name has become notorious through his loss of the fifteen hundred sovereigns belonging to us.'
'It was no more stolen from him——' began the commander.
Sir William lifted his hand, with a grave smile. 'We know that he has been spending money in your parts,' he said; 'but, then, he may tell you that that is the money with which we paid him off. He has equipped his brig. He will prove to you that he has borrowed money upon her for trading purposes. Unless he may be convicted, we would rather not touch him. Proofs to the hilt, or silence, that is my theory of our British law.'
'Has he been seen about the docks?' asked the commander.
'I don't know.'
'He is fitting out his brig, isn't he?'
'She sailed some days ago.'
'Where bound to?'
'Nominally to Oporto,' answered Sir William, smiling.
'Hecould not have been in charge. The fellow has only a few hours' start of me.'
'They may have come up to London to be married, and they may join the brig after they're man and wife,' said Sir William, viewing the commander's face with concern.
'Then she'll be hove to, waiting for them!' cried Conway. 'Surely she'd be in the river! By Heaven, I may intercept them yet, and give him hell, if nothing worse happens!'
Sir William, who lived very strictly after the fashion of most shipowners, looked very grave for a moment; then, unbending, he said—
'Your ear, sir.' And after whispering he sprang erect.
And the commander shouted, 'I hadsuspected it from the moment of my setting eyes on him! The brig must be in the river! They'll join her leisurely! She'll want to see the sights! I'll intercept her! But they will be married—they will be married!'
Sir William accompanied him to the pavement, and promised him all the information he could obtain, both as to the man and as to the brig.
The brigGypsylay in the Thames off Gravesend. She had been fast at her mooring buoy for some days. She was now fully equipped for the sea, and a very handsome boat, pierced for three guns of a side, with place for a pivoted long nine-pounder forward or aft.
In those days the peaceful trader often sailed from the Thames with guns run out. Especially did she need to give this hint if her course for traffic carried her into the ways where the galley-pirate still lingered, where the slave-ship troubled the waters with her hellish keel, where, in short, there were numerous vessels afloat of very doubtful respectability.
Here, then, lay the brigGypsy, CaptainJackman's heirloom, and much good had his worthy father hoped it would do him. Men in craft, pushing slowly by in bows as round as a potato, gazed at the brig with admiration. They would like to have such a little vessel to command. She was going to make a pleasant voyage, bet your heart. She certainly looked more like a pleasure craft rigged as a sham trader, than a vessel of commerce, and many would have expected to see the dresses of ladies fluttering on board of her, and a number of gentlemen, well dressed, ready for the start, and for enjoyment.
It was the fifth day of theGypsy'sdetention. The river was running rapidly and bearing all sorts of vessels seawards, whilst those forging inwards had to strike with a forefoot of claws to catch the way the breeze was giving them. It was a dull afternoon. The shipping showed shabbily. The water flowed in lead, and the sky was a rainy brown, sickly with the slow motion of unwholesome yellow cloud. A large man, with a huge face made up as it might appear of pieces of putty, the seams showing so asto render his mask of face extraordinary, overhung the bulwark rail, with his foot on a carronade, and his gaze bent on a boat that was approaching the brig almost athwart stream from the Gravesend pier. The wrinkles grew deep in his brow as the boat neared the vessel, until, giving a wild laugh, he cried to himself, 'Blow'd if it ain't Commander Conway!'
The men got their boat alongside, and the commander handed himself up the three or four steps which lay over the gangway. The huge putty-faced man saluted him.
'I thought you'd know me, Hoey. Are they aboard?'
'You mean the master and wife, sir?'
'No one else,' said the commander.
'They are not, then, and we've been here fooling around this buoy five days.'
'You're mate of this ship, aren't you?' said the commander.
'Yes, sir,' answered the man, with something of a lumpish grin.
'How many mates have you?'
'Myself and another.'
'I mean to remain on board until thearrival of my daughter, and then,' said the commander firmly, almost to grimness, 'shall ask you, Bill Hoey, to set me and her ashore at our home, which is a good way down Channel, as of course you know.'
'I've signed articles under Captain Jackman. I can take no liberties, I am afraid.'
'We shall see. I will bring you and the others to a right state of mind before I've done with you,' said the commander, shooting sharp glances in the direction of a number of seamen who were lounging on the forecastle and smoking, and looking at the land, and apparently filling their end of the little ship with their numbers.
'Can you give us any idea when the captain's coming off, sir?' said Hoey.
'He may be here to-day, or to-morrow, or next day. He'll not long tarry. I have hunted the docks for good purpose, and have gathered information which I shall communicate to the crew in proper time. Where are you bound to, do you think?'
The huge Bill Hoey made no answer, and looked sheepish.
'You are cleared for the port of Oporto,' continued the commander.
'For the land of romance, more likely,' answered Bill Hoey, who, laughing respectfully, saluted and crossed the deck, his dutifulness—which is one of the glories of the English seaman—being alarmed by the commander's questions and his unrevealed knowledge.
The commander went to the side, paid the boatmen, received his valise, dismissed the boat, and seeing a man approaching the little companion, he gave him the valise and told him to take it below.
'Into the living room, sir?' said the man.
'Death and fire, has it come to a sailor not knowing what below means!'
'But what's your cabin?' said the fellow sulkily; 'that's what I meant. There are but three; two's occupied, and one's the pantry.'
'Take that thing below!' repeated the commander, gesticulating with a shovel-shaped hand, and speaking in that tone of voice to which the blue-jacket is used when the naval officer's digestion is a little out of repair. The commander then made therounds of the brig. He gazed first with astonishment and attention at the guns, the tompions of which were in. He studied the little brig aloft, and secretly admired her.
'What a villain,' he said to himself, 'to marry my daughter, and then put his ship to this use!'
'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Hoey the mate, coming over to him, 'but is your honour sailing with us?'
'I am just doing what I blessed well please,' cried the commander, blood-red with rage at being questioned by a man filling Hoey's post. 'You will do me the favour to leave me alone, merely sending the steward to me, as I am going below.'
The habit of command was to be seen in the commander. Hoey read the taut discipline of the quarter-deck in old Conway, from his white hair to his buckled shoes. He touched his cap, as though the commander had been the skipper himself. Conway went below, and in a few minutes a young seaman, dressed in a camlet jacket, made his appearance. Conway had been looking round the cabin. It was acomfortable little berth. A table equal to dining two persons at a time was fixed amidship, and there were three sleeping berths, one of which was the pantry and larder.
'I shall want to sleep here,' said the commander. 'That's my valise. Where can I rest my head o' night down Channel?'
The young steward, recognising something very superior to the average officer he was used to, in this square man of fighting aspect, said—
'The capt'n sleeps there, and his lady there, sir. And this 'ere's been made a pantry of,' and he opened the little door.
There was an unnecessary variety of crockery, all of a much too expensive sort for a common little trading brig. The commander stood wrapped in contemplation. He then looked at a locker which ran along the ship's side parallel with the table, and formed, so to speak, a bench.
'That'll make me all the bed I want,' said he. 'Which is my daughter's berth?'
'The starboard one, sir.'
The commander walked into it, followedlike a sentry by the steward, who could not understand this severe square gentleman's cool procedure on board a ship that did not belong to him.
Conway saw a little trunk belonging to his daughter. A handbag was hanging under a looking-glass. Under the glass was a small oil-painting of Captain Walter Jackman, stiff in high coat collars, his gift to his love. The rest consisted of the ordinary fittings of a bunk to sleep in, of a little washstand, and so forth.
The commander, taking no notice of the steward, walked on deck. He was warmly clad in thick pilot. He made for the weather quarter-deck at once, and Mr. Hoey, seeing him coming, edged forward, and trudged in the waist with askant looks aft. It was something after two. The stream of tide was slacking. The houses of Gravesend were faintly discernible through a delicate drizzle of squall that was just then blowing over them. The cold and melancholy waste, where now stand the civilising signs of great docks and tall masts, made the scene that way soul depressing.Hard by the fort lay a little cutter of sixty or seventy tons. The pennant of the state flickered at her mast-head, and Commander Conway frequently directed his attention at the little craft as he stumped his few feet of deck.
Nobody seemed to notice that Conway usurped the quarter-deck. In fact, it had been breezed abroad that he was the father-in-law of the master of the brig, and Jack was therefore satisfied. For an hour or so things remained as they were: Gravesend hung in squall; Tilbury ran off its banks in gleams of mud; the little cutter, with her gaff mainsail hoisted, strained at her cable; and all between were great ships and little ships coming and going. Those who came were bound to London town, and those who went were being steered down the noble stream to every port in the world.
An hour after Commander Conway had arrived on board theGypsy, a wherry might have been seen putting off with feathering blade and smart whip of oar in the direction of the brig.
'Here they come!' said the commander;and he knocked the ashes of his pipe over the rail.
The boat rapidly glanced athwart the tide; the commander continued to strut to and fro. Hoey stood at the open gangway ready to receive the party. The boat hooked on, and swarmed through the rush of waters abreast to alongside. Captain and Mrs. Jackman stepped on board. The boat put off, and Hoey, turning to the commander, shouted—
'Are you going ashore, sir?'
'Yes, and with my daughter,' said the commander, advancing towards Ada, who slightly shrank.
'Pray, sir, what business have you in this vessel?' demanded Captain Jackman with a very dark face.
'My business is that lady whom you have feloniously removed from my roof, and now intend to carry into some sort of calling—smuggling, they call it—which may wholly ruin her.'
'Nonsense!' exclaimed the young lady. 'What I did was done entirely of my own free will, and I will do it again. He is myhusband. You cannot separate us; you cannot take me ashore because you wish to see us sundered.'
She stood all her inches as she said these words, and spoke with her full strength of voice, and the sailors listened eagerly. Reckoned on the whole, she was the finest girl out of the port of London.
'Weigh anchor!' shouted Captain Jackman to Hoey, whose voice instantly went forward in the proper cow-like roar.
It was an old-fashioned capstan, and it was worked with a song, and there were thirty throats. By degrees those looking over the rail saw the shore slipping by and inward-bound vessels coming along fast. Sail floated to the masthead, and blew balloon-like at the topgallant mast. Captain Jackman, after speaking a word with his wife, crossed the deck, where Conway stepped, the picture of violated law, indignant father, and horror of the whole proceedings.
'Is it your intention, sir, to make this cruise with us? If so, you are very welcome; another nautical sabreur will please me vastly.'
'You are carrying me away at your own risk. You have stolen my daughter. I mean that you shall set me ashore, and I intend that my daughter shall accompany me home.'
'To what home?' cried Jackman.
'To the home you stole her from!' shouted Conway.
'She has a home of her own!' exclaimed Captain Jackman, drawing himself up with the gravity and dignity of an earl who talks of a belt and acres. 'As you are accompanying us, you shall visit us in that home, and judge if your daughter is not perfectly comfortable.'
With that he turned scornfully on his heel, and crossed the deck to speak to Mrs. Jackman.
Meanwhile, those who noticed anything had observed that the cutter lying in shore had loosed her mainsail and was getting her anchor. The evening gathered. The cutter was manifestly giving chase. The brig floated in lofty and silent contempt through the wide reaches. At seven o'clock the captain, followed by Ada, came out of thecabin, and found the commander pacing the deck smoking a pipe. Captain Jackman, slightly raising his hat, went up to him, and said—
'Since, sir, you are deliberately a guest of the brig's, you will allow me to force her hospitality upon you.'
'Oh, presently! A biscuit, that will do, thank you,' answered the commander, in his gruffest notes. 'I am an old sailor.'
The captain, making no answer, crossed into the gloom, where, he perceived, stood the burly shape of Bill Hoey.
'Summon all hands aft; I have something to say to them,' said he, and then rejoined his wife, who had remained silently watching her father pacing the deck, and trying in vain to imagine what he intended to do.
There came aft, on the quarter-deck, a large number of men for so small a craft, despite that vessels went very liberally handled in those days. They filled the waist and all about the mainmast; and the commander, poising his pipe at his mouth, stood watching them in something of a posture ofastonishment. The dusk rendered faces and figures imperfect. It might be seen, however, that, in addition to her batteries of guns, and stern and bow chasers, she carried a crew as powerful almost as a man-of-war of small rating would have entered.
Captain Jackman, leaving his wife's side, stepped in front of the men, and said, in a high note of exultation—
'Men, I have called you aft not to make you a speech, but to give you two or three facts, all of which I know will warm you to the very roots of your souls. I told you, for purposes of signing, that I had pretended we were bound to the Portugal coast, but that, in reality, we were bound away in search of a treasure, the particulars of which I gave you. That was a lie. We are no treasure-seekers, unless it lie in the holds of others. Men,' he cried, now beginning to gesticulate, and to warm up with his fancies, 'this beautiful little brig has been fitted up as a pirate'—the commander's pipe dropped with his hand—'and a smuggler,' continued Jackman. 'I have a date for a ship sailing from Lisbon. She will make your fortune; and I swearyou will go in no risk. That is what I have to say to you, men. Turn it over, and consider how magnificently it must work, seeing that in the south of Cornwall I already possess a splendid estate of smuggling steps and caves, and a little house in which my wife will live till we have completed our business, in which time Commander Conway may be glad to prove one of the party. He will be welcome.'
A curious murmur rose from amongst the crew. No man could clearly catch the exact word or groan.
The cutter astern was leaning over to the damp evening blast, which was now beginning to breeze up; and her wake went astern of her as though it was the shimmer of her canvas.
'Bear a hand in making sail, Mr. Hoey,' shouted Jackman; and the great fellow answered with a roar, and the sailors sprang about.
Swift as was the brig, however, the cutter proved a swifter keel, and by half-past ten o'clock that night she had ranged within easy hail of theGypsy.
'Brig ahoy!' came a loud voice through the moist dissembling gloom. 'What ship are you, and where are you bound to?'
'We are the brigGypsy, of and from London, and bound to the coast of Portugal,' answered Captain Jackman, who had sprung on the rail of his vessel when the other had hailed him.
The commander rushed to the ship's side. 'Nothing of the sort, sir. He's no honest ship; he's going for a pirate and a smuggler. I am Commander——'
He had shouted this in a voice like a speaking trumpet, when Captain Jackman rounded upon him, fiercely levelling a pistol at his head as he did so.
'Down, you old dog!' he cried, stepping close to Conway. 'Speak another word, and even your daughter's presence sha'n't save your life! Go below, sir, so as to be out of danger! Below, sir!—below, sir, I say!' This he said, thrusting him towards the companion way.
'I'll square the yards yet with you, you scoundrel!' exclaimed the commander; and with a lingering look at the cutter, that waswhitening the gloom with foam and canvas to windward, he vanished.
Shortly after he had descended into the cabin, his daughter arrived. A bright lamp was swinging; the remains of supper were upon the table. The girl looked fiercely under her black crooked brows at her father, and said, in a voice of hot contempt—
'What right have you on board this ship?'
'The right of a father,' shouted the commander, 'to fetch his daughter away from a pirate and a smuggler.'
'You cannot separate us,' she cried.
'You shall go ashore with me, or I shall stick to this ship,' he answered.
She arched her mouth into a sneer, and said, 'I would advise you to leave us to our fate. You are never likely to hear of us; and your reputation, of which you think highly, will be safe. If you interfere—— But, as it is, you have already given the news to the revenue cutter on our quarter, even whilst our own sailors may be considering whether they shall sail in the ship or not.'
As she spoke these words, there was asharp hail abeam, quite audible in the cabin. It was not answered from the brig, which was now sheeting through the sea under tall leaning heights, beating the water into sifted snow with the drive of her round bows. The hail was repeated. A minute later theGypsywas fired at; the glare of the gun illuminated the little cabin port-hole. The shot made the old hull thrill, and she broke off somewhat wildly to a sudden frightened whirl of smoke. The commander, fully expecting that Captain Jackman would heave-to, rushed on deck just in time to behold some men abaft the wheel of theGypsybringing a nine-pounder to bear upon the little foaming hull. As he rushed to the side, the gun was fired. A sharp sound of crackling followed, and, more to the consternation than the gratification, perhaps, of the brig's company, they beheld the fabric of mainmast cut sheer in halves by the shot, and the whole litter and smother of gear and canvas encumbering the deck. She came to a stand. TheGypsysped on.
'Do you know what you have done, sir?' cried the commander.
'I have served him as I intend to serve others,' was the answer. 'You stand in my way. I am an honest man; this is a clean ship. What law can justify that scoundrel in firing at me?'
'Your refusal to answer the hail of a king's ship. What are you bringing yourself into?' And with something frantic in his manner, the old fellow went in long strides to the stern of the vessel.
He stood watching the cutter sending up signals. They might have been colours of danger, hurried flashes of distress. No notice was taken on board the brig—in fact, the crew seemed all too much afraid of what had happened to be willing to stop theGypsy, even had the order to back her topsail been given. A king's cutter hulled, dismasted, placedhors de combatby an English brig which had impudently refused to heave-to to legitimate demands! Who was this Captain Jackman, anyhow? It had got mysteriously whispered about, through God knows what source, that he was a little mad. It may have come from his last ship. It may have been detected in the docks, andcoolly noted and made nothing of by the reckless seamen who had agreed to sail with him for fine pay and a good share of the treasure.
The wide stretch of river looked melancholy with the black of the night and the dimness of the stars, and the dull gleam of the heads of the running sea. The commander, with folded arms, stood gazing in the direction where the cutter was sunk in the gloom. His mind was distracted. He had counted upon the civility and respect of Captain Jackman; on the contrary, his life had been threatened, and he was now being carried away to sea in spite of his protests. He could endure his reverie no longer, and after looking about him in search of Captain Jackman, and beholding no one aft but the huge figure of Bill Hoey, who was keeping the watch, he went into the cabin.
There he found the captain and Ada, late as it was, in earnest conversation. They broke off when he entered, and the captain stood up; but the girl stared at her father with angry looks of impatience.
'We are pleased that you have comebelow, sir,' said the captain respectfully, indicating a chair, and brandy and other materials, in as many flourishes of his hand. 'We should like a good understanding to exist between us.'
'I am very wishful that that should be,' said the commander, who understood that this lover of good understandings carried loaded pistols in his pockets, and that he had one in his breast then.
'You are on board my brig,' said Captain Jackman, 'without invitation. Do not you think you are guilty of a gross act of rudeness?'
The commander pointed, mute with passion, to his daughter.
'You cannot divorce us by being here,' continued Captain Jackman, with a slow white smile and a sarcastic face, and eyes full of dangerous light. 'She is my wife, sir, above and beyond your control absolutely.'
'You will set me ashore with her, nevertheless,' exclaimed Commander Conway.
'Yes, you shall be set ashore certainly, and my wife and I will accompany you. Does that satisfy you, sir?'
'Where is the place?' said the commander, with an angry snuffle of suspicion.
'In Cornwall.'
'It is your home, perhaps.'
'You shall see it,' exclaimed Ada. 'And when you have enjoyed its beauties you will return to the little square house.'
The commander looked from one to the other. He was very much of an old fool, but not so foolish as to miss this, that this couple were not to be dealt with by him, that he had started on a fool's chase, in which if he was not very careful with the fellow opposite, he might lose his life. He looked up at the hour that ticked in a clock under the little hatch. It was twelve. He said—
'I will take my rest here, on this locker.'
The captain bowed to him. 'You have had no refreshment. May I,' said he, 'offer you something to eat?'
'I will thank you for a biscuit and a drop of that brandy.' He spoke with reluctance, the ill-breeding of which caused his daughter to fix one of her handsomest though gloomiest stares upon him.
When the sun rose the brig was standingdown Channel. Sail was heaped on her. She often foamed to her catheads. She was making a triumphant course, swift and fine. The sea about her lay in frosted silver, and the ships around her leaned in shafts of light. The commander early made his appearance. Observing his daughter Ada to be standing alone at the taffrail, he accosted her.
'Do not you think yourself a very unnatural child?'
'I am free. Leave me, father, or forbear at all events from criticising my behaviour,' answered the girl, flashing her hottest looks upon him.
'You know that Captain Jackman deliberately stole fifteen hundred pounds of the moneys of his owners for the purpose of fitting out his brig for a piratical enterprise?'
'You must prove all that,' she cried.
'He has fired upon a revenue cutter, and stands to be transported for life.'
'And what then?' she cried, with a bold laugh of contempt. 'Wherever he goes he'll find me near.'
'But you seem to forget that CaptainJackman, by confessing that he is going as a pirate, stands to be hanged, and you may see his corpse on the black mud of the Thames, revolving at the finger of a gibbet in irons, a brutally degraded wretch. My God, what have you done?' A great sob rent the old man's breast.
'Father,' answered the girl, 'I am sorry to have caused you grief, but my die is cast, and I beg of you to say no more against my action, or against my husband.'
She left him and went to the rail, and watched, with a hot angry face, the white foam streaming by. She was absolutely reckless and defiant. She had got her man, and meant to stick to him at all hazards. The commander walked over to her suddenly, and putting his arm on her shoulder, exclaimed—
'Do you know that Captain Jackman is insane?'
'You will have to prove all your statements,' she cried, without turning her head.
'He is a madman,' cried old Conway. 'I saw it in him when we met. His owner told me that he was a madman. Certainstatements had been made about him by the crew of his last ship, and in any case he would not have sailed under their flag again.'
'Mad or not mad, I love him,' said the girl, again crossing the deck to avoid her father.
Meanwhile the crew remained quiet and obedient. They could not possibly mistake the ship's errand and the hazard they ran. Yet they acted as though they had made up their minds to the consequences. Their behaviour of obedience greatly puzzled old Conway, who tried to get at one and another of them: but somehow they did not choose to speak. Bill Hoey, in particular, was peculiarly reticent, considering that he was plied by a man who had been a Naval Commander, and who carried the authority of the flag. He would tell nothing, he knew nothing, he supposed they were going a-pirating, since the captain said so; but who was to tell but that the captain, whose royal yard did not seemed very well trimmed by the lifts, might change his mind, go a-slaving instead, go a-hunting for whales—in short, the gentleman well knew there was a great deal of business to be done on the seas.
As the brig passed down the coast the commander would from time to time take an eagle view of the starboard horizon, hoping that the cutter had been fallen in with, her case reported, a messenger despatched by land to a port where they had a frigate which would intercept theGypsy. But nothing in the shape of a man-of-war showed the whole way down. They were favoured by fine weather, and in places the sea was white with shafts of canvas. The brig took care to speak nothing. She sailed through the deep without sign, and her secret, whose confession would have brought some of the ships she sighted in fiery pursuit of her, remained her own.
How did the commander fare? His daughter was not a lovable creature, though a very fine woman. She was not one to sit at table whilst her father walked the deck hungry, nor was the commander one to walk hungry. He said to Captain Jackman—