“‘Why, James,’ I cried, ‘this isn’t a dungeon any more than Saint Helena is a rock. It strikes me—a simple sailor—that Nap must have had fine times of it.’
“‘No, sir, no,’ said James, shaking his head. ‘Plenty to eat and drink, plenty o’ good clothes to wear, but ah! Charles Halcott, he wasn’t free, and there burned inside him an unquenchable fire. When in action, on the field, or on the march, he had little time to think; but here, in this solitude, the seared conscience regained its softness, and in his thoughts by day and in his dreams at the dead hours o’ night, Charles Halcott, rose visions of the terrible misery he brought on Europe, and the black and awful deeds he did in Egypt. O sir, if you want to punish a man, leave him alone to his conscience!’
“James Malone was in fine form that evening at Farmer Mac’s. He sang and he yarned time about—the songs for the children, the yarns for us. Parodying Tam o’ Shanter, I might say:—
“‘The nicht drave on wi’ sangs and clatter,
Wi’ childish glee, wi’ bairnies’ patter;
The sailor tauld his queerest stories,
The farmer’s laugh was ready chorus;
Till, hark! the clock strikes in the hall
The wee short oor ayont the twal.’
“Before dinner that evening simple James had gone to see old Mother Banks, and he spent a whole hour with her.
“‘Good-bye, dear laddie,’ she said, when he rose to leave; ‘I’ll pray for ye on the ragin’ sea, but I know the Lord will never let me behold ye again.’
“And simple James’s eyes were wet with tears as he held her skinny hand for a moment, then dropped it and bore away up the street, never once looking back, so full was his heart.
“When the clock struck one, James shyly proposed a few moments’ devotion. Then he mounted the awful specs and opened the Good Book.
“Half an hour after this, all in the great house were asleep, and not a sound could I hear—for I lay long awake thinking—save the sighing of the wind in the trees above my open jalousies, to me a very sweet and soothing sound.
“‘Heigho!’ I murmured to myself. ‘Will I ever have a home on the green earth, I wonder, or shall I die on the blue sea?’