CHAPTER FOURBACK PAYHenry AveryIJust outside of Plymouth, in the English county of Devonshire, John Avery kept a tavern, under the patronage for the most part of coastwise and deep-sea sailormen. It was a comfortable place, was that inn of good Master Avery, with its sanded floor, diamond-paned windows, clean tankards, and the good ale and victuals that made the house synonymous with home for the parched mariner off in Malabar or his brother expectantly bumping homeward-bound around the bulk of Africa’s majestic cape.A good place with a good landlord, but, alas for perfect pleasure, with a landlady not so good. For while mine host endeavored to drink as much as his customer, leaving the score an amicable affair between gentlemen, mine hostess tallied every drink and clawed every broad penny laid upon the table. And how incompatible boozing and bookkeeping are, every one may be presumed to know.Jack and his wife had one child, a boy whom they called Harry. Perhaps it was for the sake of her son that Mistress Avery was careful to parsimoniousness, for the parents were resolved that Harry should neither follow the sea nor pursue the occupation of a tavern keeper; he was to be a scholar and a gentleman and thus raise the family at least one higher rung on the social ladder. A straw, it is said by wise people, may show which way the wind blows, and a circumstance which occurred when Harry Avery was but six years old may perhaps suggest his possible fulfillment of his parents’ hopes.For it was when Harry was of those tender years that the shipRevengepaid off at Plymouth, the boatswain of which, at the head of some proper fellows, at once started for Avery’s tavern, to drink up a stout wallet of extra allowance money. With Jack Avery’s company and Mrs. Avery’s accounting they soon got through with ten pounds apiece.During the sailormen’s besotted sojourn at the tavern little Harry gamboled impishly among them, swinging sea slang back and forth with them, dancing a mimic hornpipe and convulsing them with the expert manipulation of the most approved sea swearing. They prophesied that he would make a good sailor.Unhappily all this cheeriness departed with their last groat. Mistress Avery turned sour then and bade them begone or she would turnin a riot call to the constable. Night was falling when the groggy seamen piled out to the chilly street to seek the shelter of the gloomyRevenge.But that ship, alas, was not in the harbor. They huddled together and stared first at the vacant harbor and then at each other. Marooned, by tar!They tacked back to Jack Avery’s, but that gentleman’s shrewish wife met them at the door with the sharp refusal of even a poor night’s lodging in the stable. Little Harry, in the prettiest way, interceded for these interesting strangers, but in vain; they had to warm themselves as best they might by stamping through the town the whole night long.With the morning, however, theRevengecame back, and the boatswain led his now embittered flock to the waterside. On their way they were met by little Harry Avery, nimble and frolicsome as ever. He followed them to the boat which had put off from the ship to fetch them, and wished loudly that he might go aboard and away with them.Whereupon the boatswain had a happy thought. Pushing back his three-cornered hat, he scratched his mahogany forehead in deep reflection. Why not take the boy aboard and thus get even with the hard-hearted Mrs. Avery? Everybody roared with glee when this scheme of revenge was broached. Harry was pulled by agreat fist into the boat, and his sea adventures were begun.Safely on their way to the American plantations and well out of sight of land, the boatswain produced his kidnapped pal, who apparently accounted the whole thing the very best joke in the world. For a moment the captain glowered down on his peculiar passenger; but when Harry showed how he could roll out two oaths to the boatswain’s one, his fare was paid, and the captain looked upon him almost with affection.So bright a little blackguard was Harry that he stole more and more into the grim captain’s heart and twined his wicked little fingers still more firmly about the skipper’s starved emotions. A tiny hammock was made for him close by the captain’s bunk; he was allowed the run of the ship, and the cook was admonished to keep for him the least weevily or oaken portions of the menu. It was a charming sight to see the small chap, perched on a coil of rope, in blasphemous competition with the admiring skipper.There is no telling how far this friendship might have gone, or whether the captain of theRevengemight not even have adopted him for his own son, had not an incident, as they neared Carolina, severed the comradeship sharply in two. Harry was caught in the act of putting a lighted match to the powder magazine; just an inch more and the ship would have been nothing but a few broken spars and gratings driftinghaphazardly upon the sands of the Carolina beach.The captain turned nasty right away. He banished his little pet into the hold, down among the bilge and the rats, and kept him there till they made port. Rather unkindly he gave the boy to a Carolina planter,—unkindly, of course, not to the boy.It took the planter three years—for he was a man of monumental patience—fully to realize the nature of the gift; and as he could not wish Harry off on anybody in the colony, the boy’s talents being pretty commonly known, he did the best thing he could and sent him back to England.Old Jack Avery had died soon after the boy’s leaving England,—some said of a broken heart. What contact Harry made with his mother is not recorded, but it has become a matter of history that young Avery grew up a rogue, and at length, finding the land too hot for him, sought the cool and obscure promenades of his first element,—the sea.If he belonged anywhere it was to the sea. He even qualified as a navigator with the rank of first mate. In the sixteen-hundred and nineties, the Spanish Government made a bargain with some English merchants to hire coast-guard ships for its troubled South American colonies. Sir James Houblon and several others outfitted a couple of brigs, theCharles the Secondand theJames, forthe Spaniard’s business, and it was on the former that Avery was signed as first mate.Thereafter things came about which made a matter for the King’s court of Old Bailey, sitting in admiralty. Among the persons involved was an ancient mariner by the name of William May, who on his trial has left us a story of the wickedness of Mr. Avery. Unfortunately Harry Avery was not brought to account for his crime, nor, so far as we are aware, for any piracy, but slips from the pages of history with these things unrecorded, probably to end his life as one, not the least evil, among the buccaneering hordes of the Caribbean.
BACK PAY
Henry Avery
Just outside of Plymouth, in the English county of Devonshire, John Avery kept a tavern, under the patronage for the most part of coastwise and deep-sea sailormen. It was a comfortable place, was that inn of good Master Avery, with its sanded floor, diamond-paned windows, clean tankards, and the good ale and victuals that made the house synonymous with home for the parched mariner off in Malabar or his brother expectantly bumping homeward-bound around the bulk of Africa’s majestic cape.
A good place with a good landlord, but, alas for perfect pleasure, with a landlady not so good. For while mine host endeavored to drink as much as his customer, leaving the score an amicable affair between gentlemen, mine hostess tallied every drink and clawed every broad penny laid upon the table. And how incompatible boozing and bookkeeping are, every one may be presumed to know.
Jack and his wife had one child, a boy whom they called Harry. Perhaps it was for the sake of her son that Mistress Avery was careful to parsimoniousness, for the parents were resolved that Harry should neither follow the sea nor pursue the occupation of a tavern keeper; he was to be a scholar and a gentleman and thus raise the family at least one higher rung on the social ladder. A straw, it is said by wise people, may show which way the wind blows, and a circumstance which occurred when Harry Avery was but six years old may perhaps suggest his possible fulfillment of his parents’ hopes.
For it was when Harry was of those tender years that the shipRevengepaid off at Plymouth, the boatswain of which, at the head of some proper fellows, at once started for Avery’s tavern, to drink up a stout wallet of extra allowance money. With Jack Avery’s company and Mrs. Avery’s accounting they soon got through with ten pounds apiece.
During the sailormen’s besotted sojourn at the tavern little Harry gamboled impishly among them, swinging sea slang back and forth with them, dancing a mimic hornpipe and convulsing them with the expert manipulation of the most approved sea swearing. They prophesied that he would make a good sailor.
Unhappily all this cheeriness departed with their last groat. Mistress Avery turned sour then and bade them begone or she would turnin a riot call to the constable. Night was falling when the groggy seamen piled out to the chilly street to seek the shelter of the gloomyRevenge.
But that ship, alas, was not in the harbor. They huddled together and stared first at the vacant harbor and then at each other. Marooned, by tar!
They tacked back to Jack Avery’s, but that gentleman’s shrewish wife met them at the door with the sharp refusal of even a poor night’s lodging in the stable. Little Harry, in the prettiest way, interceded for these interesting strangers, but in vain; they had to warm themselves as best they might by stamping through the town the whole night long.
With the morning, however, theRevengecame back, and the boatswain led his now embittered flock to the waterside. On their way they were met by little Harry Avery, nimble and frolicsome as ever. He followed them to the boat which had put off from the ship to fetch them, and wished loudly that he might go aboard and away with them.
Whereupon the boatswain had a happy thought. Pushing back his three-cornered hat, he scratched his mahogany forehead in deep reflection. Why not take the boy aboard and thus get even with the hard-hearted Mrs. Avery? Everybody roared with glee when this scheme of revenge was broached. Harry was pulled by agreat fist into the boat, and his sea adventures were begun.
Safely on their way to the American plantations and well out of sight of land, the boatswain produced his kidnapped pal, who apparently accounted the whole thing the very best joke in the world. For a moment the captain glowered down on his peculiar passenger; but when Harry showed how he could roll out two oaths to the boatswain’s one, his fare was paid, and the captain looked upon him almost with affection.
So bright a little blackguard was Harry that he stole more and more into the grim captain’s heart and twined his wicked little fingers still more firmly about the skipper’s starved emotions. A tiny hammock was made for him close by the captain’s bunk; he was allowed the run of the ship, and the cook was admonished to keep for him the least weevily or oaken portions of the menu. It was a charming sight to see the small chap, perched on a coil of rope, in blasphemous competition with the admiring skipper.
There is no telling how far this friendship might have gone, or whether the captain of theRevengemight not even have adopted him for his own son, had not an incident, as they neared Carolina, severed the comradeship sharply in two. Harry was caught in the act of putting a lighted match to the powder magazine; just an inch more and the ship would have been nothing but a few broken spars and gratings driftinghaphazardly upon the sands of the Carolina beach.
The captain turned nasty right away. He banished his little pet into the hold, down among the bilge and the rats, and kept him there till they made port. Rather unkindly he gave the boy to a Carolina planter,—unkindly, of course, not to the boy.
It took the planter three years—for he was a man of monumental patience—fully to realize the nature of the gift; and as he could not wish Harry off on anybody in the colony, the boy’s talents being pretty commonly known, he did the best thing he could and sent him back to England.
Old Jack Avery had died soon after the boy’s leaving England,—some said of a broken heart. What contact Harry made with his mother is not recorded, but it has become a matter of history that young Avery grew up a rogue, and at length, finding the land too hot for him, sought the cool and obscure promenades of his first element,—the sea.
If he belonged anywhere it was to the sea. He even qualified as a navigator with the rank of first mate. In the sixteen-hundred and nineties, the Spanish Government made a bargain with some English merchants to hire coast-guard ships for its troubled South American colonies. Sir James Houblon and several others outfitted a couple of brigs, theCharles the Secondand theJames, forthe Spaniard’s business, and it was on the former that Avery was signed as first mate.
Thereafter things came about which made a matter for the King’s court of Old Bailey, sitting in admiralty. Among the persons involved was an ancient mariner by the name of William May, who on his trial has left us a story of the wickedness of Mr. Avery. Unfortunately Harry Avery was not brought to account for his crime, nor, so far as we are aware, for any piracy, but slips from the pages of history with these things unrecorded, probably to end his life as one, not the least evil, among the buccaneering hordes of the Caribbean.