A FAITHFUL GUARD. A PROPOSITION. A RUSE. A DENOUEMENT. SAIL HO! THE LONG TOM HOLDS ANOTHER CONVERSATION. A VALUABLE PRIZE. MORE PRISONERS THAN VICTORS. CHAGRIN OF THE ENEMY.
Channing, furnished every comfort the brig would afford to the two liberated Americans, showing a kind and friendly consideration for them, and that he had their interests near at heart. The day passed on in the usual routine of the vessel as she stood on her Northern course. Young Lovell and his companion in prison, after being shaved and furnished with comfortable clothing and enjoying a few days of plenty and comparative rest, looked like different beings. Captain Channing having learned of the martial skill and experience of Lovell, had as we have seen, placed him as his second in command, immediately after his arrival on board the Constance; since which time he had trusted almost entirely her management and sailing to him, while he passed the greater portion of his time in his cabin below, apparently in study, reading, &c.; appearing upon deck but seldom and then only for a short period at a time.
The fourth day out from Havana, Captain Channing sent word from the cabin that he wished to see Mr. Lovell. The mate came forthwith, saluting the young commander with due respect, for Channing was strict in exacting every degree of the usual forms on ship-board. Lovell had learned of the captain’s noble conduct during the voyage; of the suppression of the mutiny, and various other matters that had led him earnestly to desire an opportunity to express his admiration and respect.
But since his arrival on board, the captain had remained almost entirely below, as above said, leaving the charge of matters to his first mate, in whom he appeared to place all confidence as well as all trust. He had seldom appeared upon deck and when he did so, it was in such a manner as to preclude all attempt at gaining his ear in conversation even for a moment.
‘The captain’s very handsome, don’t you think so?’ said Herbert one day to Lovell, when during a clear calm he had left the barque and come on board the brig. ‘He’s evidently commissioned by your girl down there at Lynn, at the High Rock Hamlet. I should not like to have such a young hero for arival, Lovell, that’s all!’ said Herbert playfully.
‘I’ve been trying to get his ear for a few minutes ever since we sailed from Cuba,’ said Lovell, ‘but he keeps down below there so snugly that one don’t see much of him, though it’s all a compliment to me, Herbert, don’t you think so?’
‘Of course, sir, for he trusts you far enough.’
‘That’s the way I look at it, Herbert. But he’s a stern sour sort of a man, I think, and must have met with some cross—he never laughs.’
‘He’s a gentleman, though, every inch of him,’ said Jack Herbert warmly, ‘rival or no rival, and clear grit when he’s up. Why, bless you, Bill Lovell, he didn’t make any more of blowing that mutinous Englishman into eternity than I would have done despatching a dog.’
‘I’m his debtor at any rate,’ said Lovell, thoughtfully. ‘To be sure you are, you may give him all the thanks that you are not rotting in that cursed prison yonder at Havana, this very hour. What could I have done alone? Just nothing at all; it took him to plan, and as to that matter, to execute the business too.’
‘How odd that this Irishman insists upon sleeping at his cabin dooreverynight when off watch; can you account for it?’
‘Why—you see Terrence loves the captain for having done some kindness to his poor old mother when she was about to die; well you see these Irishmen can remember a kindness as well as the best of us. Ever since the attempt of Captain Brownless and the English cook upon Channing’s life, this man Terrence won’t leave the spot where he thinks the captain sleeps. He says he must have a hand in the next fight and so he guards the door.’
‘Faithful fellow,’ said Lovell.
It was the subsequent day to this conversation, that Lovell was summoned, as we have said, to the captain’s cabin. ‘Mr. Lovell,’ said the captain, ‘take a seat, sir.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Do you know who commissioned me to do you the service I have rendered, in releasing yourself and comrade from prison?’ asked the captain.
‘I was told, sir, by Mr. Herbert, that it was she who is dearest to me of all the world. I have desired, sir, several times already to speak with you upon the subject, but I thought I discovered an unwillingness to hold conversation on your part, sir, and I have contented myself consequently with what I could learn from Mr. Herbert.’
‘She is a good girl, sir, and I half envy you,’ said the captain.
‘Thank you, sir, I can hear her complimented all day with the utmost patience.’
‘Egad, Mr. Lovell, couldn’t I do something in that quarter myself? What do you think? ‘Sir?’
‘Don’t you think I might possibly succeed with the lady?’ Lovell stood wondering for a moment, and then said half in doubt—
‘I beg pardon, sir.’
‘For what do you beg pardon, Mr. Lovell?’ asked the captain.
‘I don’t exactly understand you, sir.’
‘You are very dull.’
‘I fear I am, sir.’
‘Well, say for instance, then, if I should make you a present of this brig, all her equipments and armament, wouldn’t you be willing to give up the lady and become the captain and owner of the fastest and best privateer that sails out of the colonies? What say you, Mr. Lovell?’
Lovell paused for a moment in thought, not to consider the proposition that was made to him, but the idea struck him that the man before him was thelate captain of the king’s cutter, Burnet, whom he had never seen and knew only by description. What could possibly have induced him to undertake his deliverance from prison?
‘I see it all,’ said Lovell to himself, ‘Fanny has made this service the price of her hand, and the reward he will receive will be the death blow to my happiness.’
Lovell in his agitation rose and walked the cabin hurriedly; at length turning to the captain, he said—
‘Captain Channing, or whatever be your name, I beg pardon, sir, I mean no disrespect to you, far from it, I am already deeply your debtor; but if any other man had made me that proposition, I would have fought him to the last gasp. Death, sir,’ said Lovell warming himself with the thought, ‘is the girl of one’s heart to be made a marketable article of?’
‘Excuse me, Mr. Lovell, said the captain, endeavoring to suppress some evident feelings in the matter, ‘but I designed to see if you were worthy of so good a girl. For let me tell you, sir, it is solely by her solicitations that I am here.’
‘I am gratified, sir, at this explanation,’ said Lovell, gratefully, ‘but I fear that I can never repay the debt I owe you.’
‘The less said upon this point the better, Mr. Lovell. I am paid through a source that you will be made acquainted with.’
‘My gratitude is none the less, sir,’ said Lovell, half trembling at the import of the captain’s last words.
‘I suppose you have heard of the state of affairs at Boston, Mr. Lovell,’ asked the captain, evidently bent upon changing the conversation.
‘The town is besieged by the Continentals I’m told.’
‘Yes, and in a starving condition.’
‘I’m impatient to have a hand in the drama,’ said Lovell.
‘Herbert has doubtless told you of the affairs of Lexington Concord and Breed’s. The Americans have taught the king’s troops at least that they have got no mean enemy to contend with in the colonists, and that the boasted dower of the royal army is not invincible. We left the continental army stretched from Roxbury to Cambridge, over an extent of twelve miles, and under command of Washington, seconded by Putnam, Lee, and such of the most able men of the province as had come together. There will be sharp work there, ere long, if it has not already taken place,’ said the captain.
‘And during all this time I have been lying idle and inactive in a Spanish prison,’ said Lovell. ‘I’m all impatience, sir, to join the glorious service of liberty.’
‘I have been thinking,’ continued Channing, ‘that the barque yonder will be no poor acquisition to the force of the colonists, and then we have quite a large amount of powder and small arms on board which are much needed by the beseiging army.’
‘Very true, sir, no doubt,’ said Lovell in reply. ‘We shall be on the coast in a few days according to my reckoning, and may perhaps hope to fall in with some English craft that we can make a prize of.’
‘We must look out sharp for ourselves first, Mr. Lovell,’ said the captain, ‘for the harbor of Boston literally swarms with men of war.’
‘I beg pardon, sir, but—’
‘But what, Mr. Lovell?’
‘I was about to ask you, sir, if we had ever met before.’
‘I believe you have seen me every day, Mr. Lovell, since you came on board the Constance. I have certainly seen you.’
‘I mean, sir, some time since.’
‘We may have met in Boston.’
‘Perhaps it is so,’ said Lovell, but positively I never knew a countenance make such an impression upon me.’
‘I hope you are pleased with your captain, sir.’
‘Certainly, captain—excuse me—or rather my seeming impertinence, but really I was a little lost in thought. Why, Heaven bless me, sir, you resemble the Campbell family at Lynn enough to be a member.’
‘I’m told that I am rather dark for an American. Are the family of whom you speak peculiar in this respect?’
‘Not at all, sir.’
‘Where’s the resemblance, then?’
‘That is the very matter that has so puzzled me for the last five minutes, sir, for were you of lighter complexion—’
‘Well, sir?’
‘I—I—God of Heaven,’ said Lovell, ‘how like her?
‘What puzzles you now, Mr. Lovell?’
‘I was thinking of home, sir,’ said Lovell, thoughtfully.
‘Happy thoughts, I hope.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Lovell abstractedly.
‘You appear surprised at something, Mr. Lovell’
‘Yes, sir, that is—’ said Lovell, gazing at the captain with his mouth absolutely wide open with surprise.
‘William!’
‘Fanny!’
The two were instantly clasped in each other’s arms.
‘My own Fanny,’ said Lovell.
‘Ever thine own,’ was the response.
‘Brave girl, why this is almost a miracle!’
‘Without Heaven’s blessing it would all have failed, William; let us thank Heaven then for the happy issue.’
‘But I cannot believe that a female, a mere girl of but twenty years, could accomplish what thou hast done, Fanny; how can it be possible? Thou hast compassed that which would have done credit to a naval captain,’ and he strained her again to his breast. ‘And I have been here in this brig with you these four days and my heart did not tell me that I was near you; how can this be true?’
‘No wonder, you thought me as dusky as a negro.’
‘I did not once suspect that you were colored.’
‘It is stain put on for a more perfect disguise.’
‘Most perfectly done.’
‘It has proved so, since it has deceived you,’ said Fanny, laughing through her tears of joy.
‘It was well conceived, my noble girl,’ said Lovell, ‘and these clothes too—I never saw you look more interesting.’
Fanny managed to blush even through the deep tinge of brown that bronzed her handsome cheek. And when does a female look more interesting than when betraying the modest color of virtue. It is a rainbow from the heart showing it to be unvitiated by the evil and bitterness of the world.
‘Shall I wear these to the end of the voyage?’ asked Fanny.
‘Ask no privilege of me,’ said Lovell, you are still master and commander here, and will, I hope, continue so.’
‘I, too, have thought it best—indeed absolutely necessary that I should continue my disguise until our arrival in port.’
‘It is, certainly,’ said Lovell. ‘But tell me, Fanny, how you possibly could have attained the knowledge you have displayed in this emergency? for I am free to confess you have sailed this brig as well, and commanded these turbulent fellows, as I could have done it with years of experience.’
‘I’ll tell thee, William. Soon after your departure from home, my heart being on the sea, I made almost every trip out with my father, for the whole season, until I understood fully the management of the schooner, which, you remember, was half a brig in its rig. I read, too, every nautical work I could procure, from love alone of the sea, where I knew you were, but never in my most romantic moments did I imagine that these acquirements would be of the service to me which they have proved. Of our kind friend Rev. Mr. Livingston, of Boston, I learned navigation, practically too, for you know he was for many years a seaman. Since then, experience and good fortune have done the rest.’
‘Thou hast been a most apt scholar.’
‘Say rather a willing one, William.’
‘I may say both, and say truly.’
‘Stubborn as ever,’ said Fanny, playfully.
‘But why have you kept concealed from me these four days?’
‘I have confined myself below so much of the time to enable you to find yourself fairly at liberty before you should know that it was your Fanny who had released you, backed by a generous and active crew. I believed it best for many reasons and thought I should be happier to do so. I shall now appear as heretofore upon deck, and you shall see how willing and apt these fellows are. Would you believe it, William? they love me, I really believe, though I have put on a severity at times,’ and here Fanny scowled as fiercely as she might, by way of explanation.
‘How could they help loving thee, Fanny? said Lovell, pressing her fondly in his arms and impressing a kiss upon her lips.
‘There, that will do,’ said she, gently unclasping his embrace, ‘youmust not abate one iota in your respect or distance, William, while on deck, and before the people, or we may have another mutiny; be careful you address me as Captain Channing, don’t be forgetful.’
‘I’ll remember, trust me.’
The two then proceeded to the quarter-deck, Lovell paying the customary respect to his commanding officer.
‘Sail ho,’ shouted the look-out, with the long drawl peculiar to the hail.
‘Where away,’ promptly demanded the captain,
William Lovell could not disguise his nervousness lest Fanny should betray herself; now that he knew the secret other disguise he feared that it might be disclosed at any moment. But there was nothing wanting; she was perfect even in all the minutiæ of sea parlance.
‘Two points on the starboard bow,’ answered the look out.
Fanny taking a glass, coolly surveyed the stranger for several-minutes.
‘English, I think,’ she observed to Lovell, referring to the stranger.
‘I make her out so,’ was the reply.
‘It remains to be seen whether we are to run or fight,’ said Captain Channing, (for so we will continue to call Fanny, who was still the same to the crew,) ‘It must be a fast vessel that the Constance cannot spare a topsail to.’
The two vessels neared each other fast, and it was soon evident that the stranger was an English vessel of some five hundred tons, and consequently much larger than the Constance, That she was an armed vessel too, was soon quite evident, for suddenly a cloud of smoke burst from her bows, and anon the dull heavy report of a cannon came down across the water to the brig.
‘Show them that pine tree, Mr. Lovell, that’s what they want.’
‘Ay, ay, sir,’ said the mate, promptly obeying the order.
But no sooner had the flag of the colonial Congress reached its station aloft and expanded to the breeze, than the report of another gun came booming heavily over the sea from the stranger, and this time also a shot; but the ball fell far short of the brig and her consort, throwing a jet of spray aloft as it struck the sea and sunk into its depths.
The captain and the first mate conversed together earnestly for a few moments, when the captain turning towards the crew with a countenance beaming with spirit, said: ‘Clear away the long-tom, and prepare for action.’
A dozen willing hands promptly executed the order, and the mate soon took his station by the gun to superintend its management, but not until he had in an under tone urged Fanny to leave the deck and secure herself below.
‘What! skulk below?’ said Fanny, ‘No no, I have seen this game before’
‘That’s the talk,’ said Terrence Moony, as the order was given to clear away the gun. ‘Jist give me that crisscross flag of England to look at for an enemy and I’ll fight all day, grub time and all. Arrah yes, ye blockheads,’ said he stripping himself to his shirt and trowsers to work at the gun. Terrence loved the English about as well as his satanic majesty affects holy water, and no more, believe us.
‘Be quiet there, forward,’ said Lovell, hearing the loud talk of Terrence as he held forth thus, rather boisterously to the crew, on the forecastle.
‘Ay ay, your honor,’ said Terrence submissively.
‘Moony, come here,’ said Lovell, half angry at the noise.
‘Ay ay, sir,’ continued the willing Irishman promptly and respectfully obeying the call.
‘What are you grumbling about there, forward, eh?’
‘Only saying my prayers, yer honor, before going into battle. That’s scripture, I belave, sir, ain’t it, Mr. Lovell?’
‘Are you afraid, Terrence?’
‘Afraid, is it, did you say, afraid that I was?’
‘That’s what I asked’
‘Your honor’s joking’
‘No, sir, you said you were at prayers, consequently I thought you might be suffering from fear, Terrence; a reasonable deduction certainly.’
‘Arrah, neither devil nor saint can scare Terrence Moony, your honor; just give me the best place at the gun, and you shall see how afraid I am. Och, afraid is it?’
‘I see you are all right, Terrence, a brave soul at the bottom.’
‘Wouldn’t you get Captain Channing to step down here in the waist, your honor?’ said Terrence, emboldened by the kind manner in which Lovell had spoken to him to be a little more familiar than was his custom to be.
‘And what for, prithee? why should he leave the quarter deck?’
‘Why, yer see, yer honor, he has such a way with him, it would encourage the men to hear the music of his voice, down here. Why, saving your honor’s presence, dam me, if I ever heard so swate a voice. Do you think the saints in Heaven will talk nater or more agreeable than him, Mr. Lovell?’ asked Terrence earnestly.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lovell interested in spite of himself, ‘you ask queer questions, Terrence,’ and he busied himself about the gun, as if he heeded not the words of the Irishman, when, in fact each one was a torch to his heart strings.
‘Yer see, yer honor,’ continued Terrence respectfully, ‘if he would jist step down here he would have the protection of the waist, ye see, instead of standing up there for them blackguards to shoot at.’
Lovell appreciated the kind thoughtful spirit that prompted this suggestion, and began himself to feel quite uneasy at the exposed position of Channing.
‘Forward there,’ said the captain at this instant, ‘all ready there with your gun?’
‘Ay, ay,’ said Lovell.
‘Steady there—fire!’
The brig trembled to her very keel with the recoil of the gun. Lovell was less inexperienced in matters of gunnery than Herbert, and his first shot unlike that of honest Jack went plump into the deck of the stranger, filling the air all around with splinters and her crew with wounds.
‘Hurrah,’ said Terrence Moony in great glee, turning from swabbing out the gun to see the effect of the iron messenger. ‘Perhaps ye’s will like a few more of them pills; it don’t take but a small number for a dose any how.’
‘Keep her away,’ said Channing, to the helmsman of the brig. ‘Well done, Mr. Lovell, that shot planted just right, could’nt have been better done, and another right to the same spot—it’s a vital place.
‘Keep her away, I say,’ continued Channing to the man at the helm. ‘That’s it—hold her so,’ his object being still to pass at such a distance from the enemy as to prevent him from bringing his small guns to bear upon the brig; it being evident at the outset that he had no guns equal to that amidships the brig.
Jack Herbert had ranged-close up in the barque under the lee of the Constantine and within easy hailing distance. His voice was soon heard on board the brig.
‘Brig-a-hoy!’
‘Ay, ay, what’s wanting,’ asked Channing through his trumpet.
‘Shall I range up and get a few shots at the stranger, sir, with my short pieces?’ The guns will go off of themselves if we don’t use them soon!’
‘No—no, Mr. Herbert, keep well away on your present course, we have not got any men to lose by a close action.
If we were well manned, we might afford to run down there and make a gallant show of it yard-arm to yardarm.’
‘Ay, ay,’ said the disappointed Herbert sheering off.
The long tom which the Constance carried amidships, proved now as on former occasions to be her salvation; for while the enemy was well equipped with arms, ammunition and also well manned, yet she had no metal of sufficient weight to cope with the brig while at a distance at which the fight began.
This distance the Constance by good management kept through the engagement. The shots from the brig were doing fearful execution on board the stranger; splinters were flying from the hull at almost every discharge of the long tom, while her own ineffectual shot fell far short of the intended mark. The unequal battle continued thus but a short time before the ship—which had suffered severely both in hull and rigging as well as by the death of four of her crew and the wounding of of others—like the barque the Constance had taken in the West Indies, found it absolutely necessary to haul down her (colours) in submission.
The brig then veered up within hailing distance of the prize, and ordered her to send a boat with the captain on board. This order being promptly complied with, Lovell with half a dozen men armed to the teeth were sent on board to take formal possession of the ship. Lovell, in the execution of this order, found one man on board the prize, whom it gave him much trouble to secure, and who wounded two of the Constance’s crew slightly before he was subdued. This man proved to be the mate of the prize, and he told Lovell although the captain had struck, he had not, and that they should have sunk the ship before he would have done so. But the man was soon bound securely by the seamen, and placed in safe keeping.
The prize proved to be a valuable one bound from Liverpool to Boston with stores and ammunition for the royal army. The home government were not yet informed that the colonists had fitted out privateers, and that they should have them so soon to contend against on the sea as well as the land; therefore they had trusted the transportation of the stores in question to a merchant craft of the large class and only protected by the armament of vessels of her tonnage and trade. They necessarily carried a few guns to protect them from the daring Hovers whom prizes tempted to range abroad upon the ocean, and who were continually lying in wait for vessels of this class.
Though the prize had a crew of fifteen men, besides her officers, yet we have seen that this number could avail them nothing against an enemy who could fight them ‘out of harm’s reach,’ and thus had the ship fallen into the hands of Channing, rendering his command quite a little fleet.
From the small number of hands and the large number of the prisoners, he anticipated some trouble, and therefore endeavored by every precaution to avert it. In pursuance of this purpose, the prisoners were confined in chains, a resort which went much against Channing’s feelings, but he felt obliged to yield to the necessities of the case. All hands were soon employed in repairing the new prize so as to enable them, to bring her into port. This having been accomplished in a few hours, Lovell took command of the ship just added to the little fleet. He was exceedingly loth to leave Channing alone as it were in the brig, but orders were given that each of the prizes should be kept as nearly within hailing distance of the Constance as possible, and as it was fortunately moderate weather although somewhat cold, this was easily accomplished.
The former crew of the Constance was now divided so as to be but eight men in each vessel, while the prisoners actually doubled that number! This was short handed indeed, more, especially when we consider the peculiar rig and mode of managing a vessel in those days. In these more modern times the numerous conveniences that inventive genius had applied in the building and finding of ships, have rendered the management of them comparatively an easy task, and by far less number of hands than was found necessary seventy years ago. What a wonderful change has half a century even, made in the art of navigation. Already do the floating castles of every nation defy both wind and tide, and vessels that formerly required twenty-five hands to sail them are now well served with fourteen or fifteen.
The captain and crew of the new prize were equally chagrined with those in the barque when they found to what a weak force in numbers they had surrounded. Their rage was unbounded and openly expressed, and though they were closely confined, yet Channing was constantly prepared and on guard, lest they should attempt to rise and take the brig. It was doubtless his constant vigilance that saved him from this catastrophe, it being evident that the prisoners were continually on the watch for a favorable opportunity. The English captain of the last prize could not reconcile himself in the least degree to his situation, to think that he should, to use his own words:
‘Have surrendered to a d—d boy of a rebel.’
But his anger was all to no purpose, for the vigilant guard kept upon him and the prisoners, though by a small number, in connection with the secure manner in which they were confined, rendered all attempt at resistance, or release of themselves to be useless. They chafed and foamed but that was all they could do, for they were like furious animals in a menagerie, completely caged.
A FIERCE CHARACTER. ATTEMPT TO BURN THE BRIG. THE CONSULTATION. THE SENTENCE. THE YARD ARM! A DREAM. THE TRIAL. A STUBBORN SPIRIT BROKEN. A NOBLE ACT OF JUSTICE! WORTHY OF EMULATION!
The day subsequent to this last fortunate capture, an event took place on board the Constance which ended in a drama of singular interest.
There was a large powerful man, second in command of the prize just taken, who had been transported to the brig for safe confinement. He was a man of remarkable muscular strength, and one whom all noted on his first coming on board, as the prisoner who had caused so much trouble on board the prize before he was taken and bound. For additional security he was confined separate from the rest of the prisoners, not only because he had thus resisted Lovell after the surrender of the ship, but because he had been overheard to make several threats relative to the destruction of the vessel in which he should be confined. This man was, as we have said, of remarkable bodily strength, and he was therefore, if possible, more securely confined than the rest of his companions, but, notwithstanding all this, on the afternoon of the day subsequent to his capture, he managed to free himself from his bonds and place of confinement, which was in the forecastle of the brig.
When discovered, he had gathered a large pile of straw and other combustibles together, to which he had actually communicated fire, and the forward part of the vessel would have been wrapped in flames in five minutes more, but for the opportune discovery of the attempt of the prisoner by one of the crew of the Constance. The foremost man, who made the discovery, and who instantly endeavored to extinguish the flames, was slightly stabbed with his own knife by the Englishman whom we have described, and who was thus endeavoring to send the whole crew to eternity together. At length after a severe struggle he was again secured and placed where he could be more closely watched than he had been heretofore, and in such a manner as to render his escape a second time impossible.
The conduct of the prisoner seemed to all to be of the most blood-thirsty and vindictive character, and the crew called loudly on Captain Channing to make an example of him. Policy, too, urged the necessity of this upon his own mind, for it was evident to the meanest capacity on board, that the large number of prisoners confined in the brig, if not deterred by some decided act of justice, would endeavor to rise and take possession of the brig. So excited had the minds of the crew became on this point, that they rather demanded than asked for the immediate punishment of the man who would thus have destroyed them altogether. In consideration of this emergency, Jack Herbert and William Lovell were each called upon from their separate commands to come on board the Constance to meet the captain in consultation, while the little fleet was hove to. After a somewhat lengthy discussion of the subject, Channing said: ‘You think then, gentlemen, that the execution of this man is necessary?’
‘I would string him up within the hour,’ said Jack Herbert
‘I regret the necessity,’ said Channing, ‘but I must acknowledge that the safety of our lives and that of the brig seems to demand it.’
‘Unquestionably,’ said both.
‘I look at this matter thus,’ continued Lovell. ‘We are like men living over a mine of powder; the least spark of fire brought in contact with that powder will cast us all headlong into eternity; there is one who avowedly seeks an opportunity to apply the match; now should we hesitate for a moment to deprive him of the power?’
‘This is the only light in which the subject can be viewed,’ said Herbert; ‘and a most rational one it is too.’
‘The matter is settled then, gentlemen,’ said Channing, thoughtfully. ‘And this man must die!’
It was thus decided, and they then separated until the hour appointed for the execution of the prisoner.
It was a calm, mild day for the season; the three vessels had hardly reached the colder latitudes of the middle coast, and the day was really remarkable for the season of the year of which we speak. The little fleet lay within hailing distance of each other. The warm sun lay upon the gently swelling breast of the ocean, like the blushing cheek of a lady upon the breast of her lover. Everything about the brig was arranged with a scrupulous regard to order and neatness, and the countenance of every man seemed big with thought. Even honest Terrence Mooney looked uneasy and solemn about his face, which was usually so radiant with good feeling and kindness to all about him. Ever and anon he would give a hitch to his pantaloons, and casting his eye aloft to some arrangement about the rigging of the ship, would then give an ominous shake of his head, as much as to say, there was something going on that did not exactly meet his approbation, and then try to forget, apparently, the thought that troubled him, by whistling loudly some Irish air. It had been decided, as the reader has seen, that the prisoner in question should be executed on the yard arm, and although this was only understood by word of mouth, to the chief officers, yet the intelligent eye of the crew took in the preparations, which had necessarily been made, with a full sense of their purpose.
The noble-hearted crew, now that they saw the event actually about to take place, looked sad and dejected, for though any one of them would have gone into battle, with a jest, and while in the heat of blood, and with the justice of his cause at heart, have slain his enemy without a second thought; yet here they were about to do a very different deed, and one upon which they found time to reflect and ponder. They were about to launch a fellow being, in cold blood, into eternity, and every act of preparation but added to the chill at heart that each man felt. Aye, their very natures were revolting within them at the proposedmurder, for so must ever seem the preconcerted taking of human life. It is an awful thing to take away the life we cannot give; and we are one of those who question its justice even in extreme cases, save actually in self defence.
‘Divil a bit do I fancy this work,’ said Terrence Mooney to one of his messmates; ‘it will bring bad luck upon the darling little brig, to have a man dangling by his neck up there, where blocks and ropes only belong. Arah, faith now, what was I after draining of the divil’s tail last night, if it wasn’t all for this yard arm business?’
‘And did’nt I drame too,’ continued Terence, after taking a turn or two between decks, where he was now watching the prisoners, ‘and did’nt I drame, too,’ said he, ‘that the brig run her nose into a water spout at say, and got rig’larly’ corned, a’ drinking salt water, and that she would have tumbled overboard intirely, but that Captain Channing kept all taut some how? Arab, divil a bit would I be after draining this if there was’nt something wrong.’
‘Don’t it all mane this hanging business, to be sure?’ put in his companion, who was the Irishman that joined the brig from the first prize.
‘It may be that, and so it is most like,’ continued Terence, ‘but I’ve had my misgivings, my boy, about lavin’ the ould woman, and not stopping to see her dacently buried, and put under ground.’
‘That was’nt jist rigular, Terence.’
‘And how could I help it at all; was’nt Captain Channing and the brig to sail that very hour that I agreed? to be sure I could’nt help it.’
‘It’s yourself that will be turning out a Jonah, and swallowing the whole of us,’ said his companion half seriously.
‘Way wid ye now,’ said Terence, ‘and don’t bother me.’
A solemn silence now reigned through the brig, which scarcely made a single foot of headway as she rose and fell gracefully in the long heavy swell of the Atlantic.—We have said that it was calm, aye, it was very still, for even the sea seemed as if holding its breath in anticipation of witnessing some unhallowed act. There was hardly a single sign of life manifested on board the Constance, save the sedate and quiet helmsman, or of death either, though to the observant eye resting upon that complicated yet graceful web of ropes and gear, a single whip was visible rigged to the fore yard arm. One end was led inboard, while the other ran along the yard through a block, and descended to the deck. This single rope thus disposed, told a story to the honest seamen, that led their countenances to express the sorrow, nay, almostfear, that we have alluded to. There was to be a fearful act accomplished, and they were to be the agents.
‘I do not like this business at all,’ said Capt. Channing to Lovell.
‘I look upon it as an important duty,’ was the reply.
‘It may be so,’ said Channing, musing.
‘Unquestionably.’
‘And this poor fellow must be hanged?’ said the captain.
‘So we have decided,’ said Lovell.
‘It is a fearful thing, William, thus coolly to take a human life. Who would have thought that mine would ever be the hand, or that I should ever issue the order that should deprive a human being of life. I declare honestly to you that I am hardly equal to the cold blooded deed.’
‘Nay, courage, Fanny,’ said Lovell, (they were alone in the cabin,) ‘you have done nobly thus far, now carry out the affair as it should be done.’
‘And will this be a noble deed?’
‘It is always noble to do our duty.’
‘There is no reprieve, then?
‘I consider it as absolutely necessary for our safety. The fellow has even declared that if he gets another opportunity he will do the same deed over again. Is it safe then that he should live?’
‘The sentence is just,’ said Fanny.
‘Courage, Fanny, all will soon be over.’
‘Aye, but it is a fearful business. Lovell, do you realize it?’
‘I do, indeed, but think we have decided for the best.’
Overcoming all her woman’s feelings, Fanny summoned her wonted spirit, and ordered the prisoner to be brought before her. He soon made his appearance, strongly bound, and led a couple of the crew. He was a noble specimen of a man in his physical formation. Of good height, broad and full across the chest, with heavy yet well formed limbs. His hair was short, black as jet, and curled closely to his head. He came in looking sullenly down upon the cabin floor, resembling a lion at bay, his huge, muscular form expanding with rage at the feeling of his bonds. He stood before the captain of the brig who sat in a large easy chair, while on either side stood Lovell and Herbert.
It was a scene of strange and peculiar interest. There stood that huge Hercules of a man before that gentle hearted girl to be adjudged to death. Her deep soul seemed to be reading the prisoner’s inmost thoughts through the blue of her beautiful eye. Her voice did not tremble, her hand was firm, and she was a man at heart. The woman feeling which was so lately called into action in her breast, was banished, and nothing save stern justice might be expected to come from out those lips which displayed at that moment a decision of purpose and character which Lovell had never marked there before.
‘Prisoner,’ said Fanny, in her low musical tone of voice, and yet with singular distinctness, ‘do you know that my counsellors have decided upon your death at the yard arm, within this very hour?’
‘I saw the whip rigged aloft, as I came along the deck,’ was the meaning reply of the prisoner.
‘Have you nothing to offer before we execute this resolve?’
‘Nothing,’ said the man, his eyes still bent upon the floor. ‘It would seem most probable that a person about to lose his life would have some wish to express. If you have any, speak them, and if they be reasonable they shall be granted.’
‘I have none,’ was the reply.
‘Prisoner,’ continued Fanny, ‘have you no wife, children, of friends?’
Here she was interrupted by a groan from the Englishman, that showed she had touched him upon a vulnerable point.
‘Speak, sir.’
‘I have both wife and children,’ he said, without raising his head from his breast, while his broad manly chest heaved with visible emotion.
‘And you have no reward to leave for them, no wish to express before your execution?’ asked Fanny.
‘None! They will know that I diedloyal!’
‘You have offered threats against this vessel and us, a second time since your being again secured, I am told. Is this so?’
‘It is; the enemies of my king are the enemies of God, and I would pursue them to the last gasp. Thou art a rebel, sir Captain, and all these about thee. Should they be spared if I could rid the king of them, by the loss of my own life? No!’ During all this time he had not even lifted his head, but as if humbled by his bonds, his eyes still sought the floor.
‘Would you not embrace such a proposal,’ said Fanny, ‘as should restore your wife to your bosom, and your children to your arms.’
The man started—his Herculean proportions assuming an attitude that would have struck an artist with admiration. His head was erect, his eyes bent eagerly upon the captain, and his form seemed to be at least a half a head taller than before. In a moment more his head dropped again as if the spirit that had actuated him for a moment had passed away, and he even doubted that he had heard aright. Relapsing into his former state, he made no reply to the question that had so moved him.
‘Say, prisoner,’ continued Fanny, ‘would you again see those you have left in your native land—your home, your wife and children, and those you love?’
‘I shall meet them in Heaven,’ was the calm reply.
‘And is it loyalty to thy king that has incited thee to this mistaken course?’ asked Fanny.
‘What else could actuate a British sailor?’
‘Unbind him!’ said Fanny to the guard, who stood by his side.
‘Do I command this vessel?’ asked Fanny, rising and drawing her naked sword, and grasping it for action.
‘Certainly, sir.’ said one of the men, ‘but your honor, we———’
‘Do you hear, fellows? Unbind him!’
Lovell and Herbert were unprepared for this, and did not venture a word, while the guard did as they were ordered. In a moment more the Englishman stood unbound, and at liberty before her, his fine manly face evincing the utmost surprise, while he stood motionless with astonishment.
‘I think I have not mistaken you, sir, ‘said Fanny, addressing the prisoner, ‘and if I have read you aright, it best behoves us to hold converse with such as thou art onequalterms. You are nowfree!’
‘And to what end?’ asked the man in amazement.
‘I wouldreasonwith you.’
‘I am attentive,’ said the Englishmen, evincing by his manner and speech a degree of refinement, that he had not before shown.
‘Dost thou know,’ asked Fanny, ‘of the oppression that has driven the North American Colonies of Great Britain to the course they have adopted? what flagrant wrongs they have endured; what servile and debasing treatment they have suffered at the hands of the evil advisers of the king?’
‘I only know that the North American Colonies have rebelled against their lawful king,’ said the Englishman, moodily.
‘You know not,’ continued Fanny, warming in her subject, as she proceeded, her deep blue eyes sparkling with animation and spirit, ‘of the sanctuarys defiled, of homes made desolate, the prostration of trade, and the consequent distress of thousands! You know not that the messengers of the people have been spurned from the throne, thus adding insult to injury?—Would it not belie our English origin to bear all this tamely Should we be worthy the stock from whence we spring, did we not resent them, and endeavor by our own right hands to obtain justice?’
‘You tell me news, indeed,’ said the Englishman, thoughtfully.
‘Let not this spirit of revenge live any longer in thy breast,’ said Fanny, ‘but consider first what has caused this resort to arms, and then judge who is in the wrong. If it should seem to thee to be the Colonists, do not disgrace thy nature by seeking revenge against them by any blood thirsty act; and if the King, then do not again lift your arm against this people.’
‘I feel that I have erred!’ said the Englishman, nobly willing to acknowledge the wrong he had done.
‘So,’ said Fanny, ‘I know that I may trust you!’
The Englishman sprang forward, seized the extended hand of Fanny, and after pressing it warmly, left the cabin without uttering a word.
Fanny in her ready wit and judgment, read something of the true character of the prisoner, and after a little conversation, as we have seen, she was strengthened in her supposition with regard to it. She had rather resort to almost any expedient than that of the execution of the man, and to avert it she was willing to run some risk in the matter of trusting him.
The treatment proved salutary. A stubborn spirit was conquered by kindness and reason, the only weapons that one responsible being should use with another. The Englishman’s spirit had undergone a complete change; he would have lain down his life for the captain of the Constance; and from the hour of his liberation, was an ardent supporter of the cause of the American people, though he was never actively engaged in the war. He did not betray the confidence that had been so placed in him, but served faithfully as a common sailor to the end of the voyage.
There is a moral that we are tempted to put down here, simple perhaps, but a great one nevertheless, yet fearing the censure of the general reader, who sometimes decries in no measured terms these moral digressions, we leave the inference to which we have only alluded, for the good judgment and discernment of the reader, but let us venture to urge its consideration.
Lovell was struck with the good judgment and ingenuity which Fanny had displayed in this trying case, and found therein a new trait of goodness and understanding, to love and respect her for; and when they were again alone he asked her.
‘Why did you not tell me of this plan of action, dear Fanny; was I not deemed worthy of the trust?
‘I had not entertained the idea beforehand, William; it was the promptings of the moment, suggested by the noble bearing of the man, and the feeling and emotion he evinced at the mention of his home and family. It was easy enough to see then, William, that his heart was in the right place, and susceptible to the influence of kindness.’
‘It could not have been better managed,’ said Lovell, ‘or more skill and judgment of human nature displayed.’
‘I have relieved my heart of a heavy load of responsibility,’ said Fanny; ‘for the last few hours I have been quite miserable.’
‘You have done nobly, my dear girl.’
‘What, sir?’
‘I beg pardon—sir, I mean that your conduct is deserving of all praise, Captain Channing,’ said Lovell, with a mock show of respect.
‘If you are not careful, William,’ said Fanny, ‘you will expose me to the crew, and who knows what might be the consequence?’
‘True, true,’ said Lovell, ‘I will be all respect in future, depend upon my discretion. But have you no fears or misgivings, Fanny, as to the good faith of this man you have liberated?’
‘Not the least. I fear not to trust him with my life.’
‘Heaven grant him honest,’ said Lovell as they parted.