I. [GAZELLES AND MIDGES—THE MIDGE'S WINGS ARE SINGED]
II. [THE ATTACK]
III. [THE MIDGE IN THE HORNET'S NEST]
IV. [THE EVENING AFTER THE BRUSH]
V. [AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SERJEANT QUACCO]
VI. [THE FETISH—CROSSING THE BAR, AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SLAVER]
VII. [A WARM RECEPTION]
VIII. [CAPE MISSIONARIES]
IX. [FOUNDERING OF THE HERMES]
X. [DICKY PHANTOM—YARN SPINNING]
XI. [JAMBE DE BOIS]
XII. [GAMBLING—AN UNLUCKY HIT]
THE CRUISE OF THE MIDGE.
CHAPTER I.
GAZELLES AND MIDGES—THE MIDGE'S WINGS ARE SINGED.
Born an Irishman, the son of an Irishwoman; educated in Scotland, the country of my father, an ancient mariner, who, as master and supercargo, had sailed his own ship for many years in the Virginia trade; removed to England at the age of seventeen, in consequence of his death; I had, by the time I arrived at majority, passed four years of my mercantile apprenticeship in my paternal uncle's counting-house, an extensive merchant in that modern Tyre, the enterprising town of Liverpool; during which period, young as I was, I had already made four voyages in different vessels of his to foreign parts—to the West Indies, the Brazils, the Costa Firme, and the United States of America.
Being naturally a rambling, harumscarum sort of a young chap, this sort of life jumped better with my disposition than being perched on the top of a tall mahogany tripod, poring over invoices, daybooks, journals, and ledgers, with the shining ebony-coloured desk jammed into the pit of my stomach below, and its arbour of bright brass rods constantly perverting the integrity of my curls above; so at the period when the scene opens, I had with much ado prevailed on my uncle to let me proceed once more on a cruise, instead of a senior clerk, in charge of two of his ships, bound to the African coast, to trade for ivory and gold dust, and to fill up with palm oil and hardwood timbers.
I had no small difficulty in carrying this point, as the extreme insalubrity of the climate, the chance of being plundered by the semi-piratical foreign slavers, to say nothing of the danger of a treacherous attack on the part of the natives themselves, weighed heavily against my going in my worthy uncle's mind; but I had set my heart on it, and where "there's a will, there's a way."
I will not conceal, however, that after all, when it came to the point, I do not believe he would have allowed me to depart, had it not been for a prank of mine, which put him into a towering passion with me about this time.
On the occasion of a rejoicing for one of our great victories, being hand-and-glove with all the skippers and mates of the vessels belonging to the concern, I smuggled up to our house on Everton Terrace, unknown to my uncle, two boat guns, six-pounder carronades, and a lot of fire-works, by bribing the brewer's man to carry them for me in his cart. Having achieved this part of my plan, with the aid of two young tars, I contrived to mount the guns in the summer-house, immediately beneath the dining-room window; and having loaded them, I set fire to slow matches, fitted to the touch-holes, just as the dinner bell rang; and then calmly took my place at table, facing mine uncle.