CHAPTER XL.HOMEWARD.
“Who are you, man?” inquired Miss Conyers, looking in the face of the mysterious stranger.
“Me? Ou, I’m just naebody!” answered the apparition, rather sulkily.
“What is your name?”
“Just Tam McAlpine.”
“Foretop Tom!”
“Ay, just himsel’.”
Miss Conyers sank down upon a coil of ropes, and drew the trembling Irish girl to her side, and then said:
“You have surprised me very much, and you have terrified this girl nearly out of her senses, but I am glad to know that you were saved from the wreck;” then turning to her agitated companion, she said, “Judith, you see it is Tom himself. Why don’t you speak to him?”
“Sure I see it now. And I’ll spake whin I’m able. I can’t yit!” sobbed Judith, covering her face with her apron, and rocking herself to and fro.
“Ay, that will be the way she has treated me ever sin’ I foregathered wi’ her on the deck. Screeching and rinning fra me as if I had been Auld Nick!” complained the Scotchman.
“No wonder. We all thought that you were drowned more than two years ago. And she took you for your own ghost. How were you saved?”
“E’en by a miracle—nae less. When the boat capsized I laid hold of an empty cask, and whilk buoyed me up all night until the tide turned, when I was floated far out to sea. I gave mysel’ up for lost, but held on to the cask till my strength was weel nigh spent. At length I was seen and picked up by the ither lifeboat, whilk had been beating about all that time. Three days after, when our bread and water was nearly gane, our boat was picked up by an outward bound Dutch merchantman, and we were saved.”
“An almost miraculous preservation, indeed. You must have been astonished to see Judith here. Our preservation was quite as strange as your own.”
“Ay, and I might e’en ha’ ta’en the lass Judith for a ghaist, if I hadna’ been tauld by the sailor lads of the castaways lost from theSultana, and ta’en off the Desert Island by their captain.”
“Oh, then you were prepared to see us,” laughed Miss Conyers. “But still, I don’t see how you should be here?”
“I was taken prisoner from theSea Scourge.”
“Oh, ye were, were ye, ye born divil!” exclaimed Judith, uncovering her face, and speaking for the first time. “And so ye turned pirate and murtherer, did ye? Troth, I’d rather ye’ed been dhrowned in the say, so I had, than ye should have turned cutthroat on me hands.”
“Ay! that’s the way she’s guided me, ever sin’ I met her on the deck,” grumbled the Scotchman. “Will ye hear a mon speak for himsel’ before you accuse him, lass?”
“And sure what can ye say for yourself at all at all, afther being found upon theSea Scourgeamong a lot iv divels?”
“Young leddy,” said the Scotchman, appealing to Miss Conyers, “will you condescend to speak to the lass and bid her be reasonable?”
“Indeed, McAlpine, I am so pained to hear that you were one of the crew of theSea Scourge, that I have nothing to say against Judith’s natural indignation,” said Miss Conyers.
“Ou, ay! a mon gets it on baith sides! May be, young leddy, ye’ll let me expleen before you judge me.”
“If you can explain to Judith’s satisfaction, I should like to hear you do it, McAlpine,” said Miss Conyers, gravely.
“Aweel then, after our boat was picked up by the Dutchman, I took service with the captain and went the voyage to Calcutta, and then back to England. After whilk I shipped on a merchantman in St. Catherine’s docks, calling hersel’ theSea Scourge, bound for the Indies, and sailing under the Stars and Stripes. And here I will take leave to say that being a native of Ayrshire in Scotland, I owe nae mair allegiance to the Stars and Stripes than I do to the Stars and Garters or to the Stars and Crescent—whilk last I take to be the emblem of the Turk; or to the Stars and Bars, whatever they may represent, or to the stars in conjunction with ony ither creature. It was na, however, until we overhauled a Baltimore clipper that theSea Scourgeran up the Stars and Bars, and I kenned for the first time that I was shipped on board a preevateer. I had nae choice but to bide where I was, whilk I did until the engagement wi’ theXyphias, when the preevateer was captured.”
“And ye fought ag’inst us, ye murthering divil,” put in Judith.
“Nay, lass, that was na my duty; I was on the foretop, and na at the guns. I helped to work the ship, that was a’; and e’en that’ wi’ nae guid will; for I aye argued wi’ mysel’ that I had been entrapped intil the service of the preevateer; but I could na help mysel’ till the fight was over. I was wounded, as ye see, by a bit splinter that struck my head, and I fell to the deck, breaking my arm and spraining my ankle.”
“Tom, is it the truth ye’re afther telling me?” inquired Judith, through her tears.
“Ay, lass; what else? D’ye think I would tell ye a lee?”
“Thin, Tom, darlint, I beg your pardon entirely for thinking ill iv ye. Troth——” And here Judith broke down and sobbed.
“Hout, tout, lass! dree your een and sae nae mair,” said Tom.
“Tom, ye’re a jewel, sure; but how came ye here at all at all, whin all the prisoners were left at Cape Town except thim that took the oath of illaygiance and shipped on theXyphias?”
“I tould my tale to the captain, and said I would like to take service on the prize. And when I was able to leave my hammock he granted my petition and put me here.”
“Och, Tom, jewel, sure my hearts broke entirely wid the thought iv how I misthrusted and abused ye,” said Judith.
“Hout, lass, sae nae mair. D’ye think a bit hard word is gaun to part you and me after a’ that’s come and gane?”
Miss Conyers had been for some time dropped out of the conversation. And now honest Tom became so extremely sentimental that she really felt herself one too many; and so she arose, and leaving the sweethearts together, she slipped away to her seat in the stern.
There presently her own ill-used lover joined her. And she gave him the solution of the ghost riddle by describing her meeting with Foretop Tom.
“It is singular that I have never chanced to meet him,” said Justin.
“I fancy that he has been below in his hammock until lately. He looks scarcely fit for duty now,” said Britomarte.
And then as the night was growing damp and chilly, and the lights in the cabin looked cheerful and inviting, Miss Conyers proposed to her companion to go below; and they went and finished their evening in music and conversation.
The next day Justin had an interview with Foretop Tom, who was able to tell him much more relating to the rescue of the missionary party than he had learned from the Burneys.
Tom related all that he knew, either from observation or hearsay—how that the crew of the lifeboat, finding all their arguments and persuasions vain to induce their captain to desert the ship and join them, and being moved by the tears and prayers of the missionaries’ wives, had at last consented to receive the two missionaries, who, being of slight form, they said, would not both togethertake up much more room than that left vacant by the stout captain. So they had been rescued from the wreck of theSultana, picked up by the Dutch merchantman, and afterward taken on board by the East Indiaman, which was luckily bound to the very port of Calcutta for which they themselves had sailed in the ill-fatedSultana.
From this time no event occurred to vary the monotony of the sea voyage.
As they drew nearer to the shores of their native country, Justin and Britomarte began to experience an intense and ever deepening anxiety. How, after so long an absence, should they find the friends they had left at home? Were they well? Were they even living? Who could tell? How slow was their approach to their destination! how torturing their suspense!
There came a day when Lieutenant Ethel said:
“In three weeks, if we have good luck, we shall make New York harbor.”
And then they counted the weeks, until the morning came when the young commander said:
“If this weather holds we shall be in port in four days.”
And then they counted the days until the night arrived in which the lieutenant announced:
“We shall be in New York at dawn to-morrow.”
And then they counted the hours. They sat up on deck until a late hour, hoping to be able to make out their native shore before going to rest. But there was no moon; and though the sky was clear and the stars bright overhead, yet the western horizon, on which their line of coast should appear, was veiled with clouds and fogs.
At length, weary with watching, they bade each other good-night and retired to their respective staterooms. Yet even then and there they could not sleep. The keen anxiety as to how they should find their friends, if indeed they should find them at all, and how they should find their country, if civil war had left them a country undivided—chased slumber from their eyes, until near dawn, when, as often happens to night-watchers, they fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and slept profoundly until a late hour of the morning.
Britomarte was then aroused by a loud rapping at her stateroom door.
She started up, only half awake and much bewildered, and demanded:
“Who is there?”
“Sister, it is I. I have come to tell you that we are anchored in New York harbor,” answered the voice of Justin.
With an irrepressible cry of joy Britomarte sprang up, and with hands trembling with delight, began to dress herself. She was as much overjoyed by the announcement as though she had not been confidently expecting it. She was soon dressed and out on deck, where Justin advanced to meet her.
“And all the land is rejoicing in the news of the glorious victory just gained!” he said as he led her on where she could see the forest of shipping in the harbor, and the forest of spires in the great city beyond.
“Thank Heaven! Thank Heaven!” she fervently exclaimed, with a heart too full to utter another word.
“The tide of war has turned, my sister. And the whole city is rejoicing in the news of a glorious victory,” repeated Justin.
“You told me that before. Yes, I heard you, and I thank Heaven for that also. This victory, Justin! Is it a final one?”
“I dare not say that. But the precursor of a final one, we may venture to predict.”
“And where was it gained?”
“At Gettysburg.”
“At Gettysburg! Why, that is in Pennsylvania.”
“Yes, my sister. Lee has invaded Pennsylvania; but has been met at Gettysburg by the Union army under General Meade, and driven back with tremendous loss. The news of the victory has just reached New York, and the city is mad with joy!”
“This is glorious news to greet us on our arrival!” said Lieutenant Ethel, coming up. “Good-morning, Miss Conyers. Let us congratulate each other.”
“With all my heart!” exclaimed Britomarte, cordially grasping the hand that was extended to her.
“Here are the morning papers, Rosenthal. A boat has just come alongside and brought them,” continued the young lieutenant showing a half-dozen of the journalsof the day, which he immediately divided between Justin, Britomarte and himself.
But all three were really too much excited to compose themselves to reading. They did but devour the telegraphic news containing the brief announcement of the victory of Gettysburg, and then they began to talk about it, and they continued to talk until the steward came to say that breakfast was on the table.
They went into the cabin and sat down to the table. But who could eat? They drank some coffee and made a pretense of nibbling some bread and meat. But even the fresh eggs and beefsteak, rare luxuries to the voyagers, that the boat had brought alongside that morning in time for their breakfast, could not tempt them.
They soon arose and made preparations to go on shore.
The principal part of Justin’s, Britomarte’s and Judith’s effects had been packed up for several days. All that they had to do now was to put up the few articles that they had left out for immediate use.
When this was done they put on their outer garments and were ready to leave the ship—only waiting for Lieutenant Ethel, who had a few last orders to give before accompanying them on shore.
Justin and Britomarte sat in the stern.
“My sister,” said the young man, “let me be a brother to you in reality. We are about to leave the ship which has been our home so long. The greater part of our effects has perished in the using, and the greater part of our means is lost. Tell me now, as you would tell your brother, what are your plans for the future, Britomarte?”
“I will,” she answered, frankly. “Certainly my wardrobe is rather dilapidated, and nearly three years behind the time; but still, as it is clean and whole, I hope it will be considered decent and passable. For the rest I have about thirty dollars in gold, which you saved with my other effects from the wreck. This will suffice to take me to Washington, and keep me for a few days.”
“And then?”
“As Heaven wills.”
Justin groaned.
“Oh, Britomarte, my beloved! that you would give me a legal right to protect you!”
“Justin! no more of that I implore you, if we are to retain even the semblance of friendship,” she exclaimed.
“It is but a semblance on your part, at least, I sometimes think,” said Justin, bitterly; then quickly repenting the injustice of his words, he added—“But no! you saved my life at the most imminent hazard of your own. Yes, your friendship, Britomarte, passes the love of other women. Yet, oh, my soul! why is it, why, that you abjure the only relation in which we can rationally stand to each other? Well, well—I will not ask you. I will try to be silent on that subject—silent forever! I——” his voice quite broke down and he covered his working features with his hand.
She looked at him and turned pale with the excess of her own emotions. She laid her hand tenderly upon his, and faltered:
“Justin! brother! dearest brother! I am not worth all this feeling! indeed, indeed I am not, Justin. I would die to give you content—Heaven knows that I would. I would die, but I cannot marry you, Justin! I cannot!”
“I shall never again ask you to do so,” he mournfully replied: “I shall—as soon as I see you safe to Washington, and meet my father and my sister—I shall enlist in the army, and in discharging the high duty that I owe my country I shall seek to forget my private griefs.”
“Yes, do so, Justin! do so, dearest brother! and my prayers will follow you, and the favor of Heaven shall be upon you! And if you are not happy, you will still be blessed, since all who do their duty are so.”
“But it is not of myself that I think; it is of you—of you! So young, so beautiful, and—forgive me, Britomarte—so poor and friendless! When I think of that, and of your obstinacy, all my strength and manhood desert me!”
“Nonsense, Justin; I have health, intellect, freedom and—thirty dollars in gold to start with. Now, what would you think of a young man in my place with all these advantages? Would you make such a moan over him? Not a bit of it. You would think his prospects exceedingly promising. Now I assure you, Mr. Rosenthal, that—all other things being equal—a young womanis quite as well able to take care of herself as a young man.”
“But this war! this war!” groaned Justin.
“Exactly. This war will open to me, as to others, a field of duty and usefulness.”
While they spoke Judith and Tom had been standing at a short distance away, conversing together.
Now the girl approached Miss Conyers, and stood rolling the strings of her bonnet and blushing deeply.
“What is it, Judith?” the young lady asked, kindly.
“Sure, ma’am, ye know I towld yez that when we landed I should go to me aunt, who keeps a ship chandler’s shop on Wather street, and she’d give me a home or get me a service?”
“Yes, Judith; are you not going there?—have you changed your mind?”
“Yes, ma’am, sure; but——”
“But what, Judith? Out with it,” said Justin.
“Me gay Tom wants me to marry him,” said the girl, turning as red as a cabbage rose.
“Well, Judith?” said Britomarte.
“Well, ma’am, sure you rimimber I promised you nivir to marry any man till the laws was changed so the women could get the upper hand iv the men entirely.”
“Not exactly so, Judith; but you promised me never to marry until the cruel laws are changed so that we women may have our rights,” amended Britomarte.
“Well, ma’am, and sure ain’t that all the same?”
“Not precisely. But what is it you wish to do now, Judith? Do you wish me to protect you against the importunities of your lover? I will do so effectually.”
“Ma’am?”
“Do you wish me to speak to Lieutenant Ethel to order Tom McAlpine to let you alone?”
“Och, no, sure, not for the world, ma’am!” exclaimed Judith, in dismay.
“What do you want, then?”
“Sure, ma’am, I want ye to relaise me from me promise.”
“I thought so,” laughed Justin.
“To release you from your promise, Judith?” questioned Britomarte, with a mortified air.
“Yes, ma’am, plaise,” said Judith.
“You had better do it at once, sister, or she will break through it,” said Justin.
“Why do you wish to be released from a promise so freely and deliberately given, Judith?” gravely inquired Miss Conyers.
“Well, you see, ma’am,” answered Judith, blushing and looking down and twirling her bonnet strings, “whin I made that same promise nivir to marry a man till the laws was changed, sure I was on that baste iv an island, where there was nivir a man to marry at all at all—let alone belaiving me gay Tom was dhrowned. So you see it made no differ. But now I’m back in a Christian counthry, and me gay Tom alive and well, and now sure I want to be relaised from me promise.”
“Well, Judith, I release you from your promise; but I do it only because I feel sure that if I did not you would break it.”
“Sure, ma’am, I thank you kindly, so I do; and so will me gay Tom,” said Judith, much relieved, as she turned and walked to rejoin her lover, who stood waiting for her in evident anxiety.
“I never could understand why Judith should call that grave and stolid Scotchman her ‘gay’ Tom,” said Justin.
“She did it first in covert sarcasm, no doubt. And she has since continued it from habit,” answered Britomarte.
Lieutenant Ethel now joined them, saying that the boat was ready to take them ashore.
They immediately arose and went to the starboard side of the ship and descended to the boat, followed by the lieutenant.
When they had all taken their places the boat was pushed off. A few rapid strokes of the oar brought them to the pier, where they got off, hailing with deep and heartfelt gratitude their native land.