Dogvane sighed over his master's want of enlightenment. But he knew too well that in his present mood he was not to be reasoned with, so what could a poor sailor do? What cannot be cured must be endured. Dogvane felt assured that everything was to be put down to the fallacious teachings of the Port Watch, and had he not been the pious man that he was he would undoubtedly have damned all their knavish tricks, if nothing else.
The cook, the butcher, and the carpenter, could see that something was amiss by the troubled look upon their captain's face, so they were not at all surprised to hear the bo'sn's whistle pipe the crew of the bold Buccaneer's royal yacht away; to be one of the crew of which was esteemed a great distinction, as it was a sure road to preferment. The cook only hoped the old man, meaning the Buccaneer, was not going to make a fool of himself; but he had his doubts, of course. Had the sagacious and learned Pepper been one of the party to give his master the benefit of his advice it would have been a different matter altogether.
But where is the old cox'sn all this time. Is the Buccaneer going to make his round of calls without his right-hand man?
Good people all, the cox'sn was on shore moving about amongst the people, doing good after his humble fashion, wherever he could. He did not always accompany his master, more is the pity; but the truth must be told. He could not at all times get on with Captain Dogvane, and old Jack Commonsense was not much of a traveller.
CHAPTER XX.
Just as the Buccaneer was about to start upon his round of calls, the snowy white sails of a large ship were to be seen gliding, as it seemed, over the fields that hemmed in his principal river; the hull of the stranger being hidden by a bend. From her mast-head flew a star-spangled banner, and the well-known strains of Yankee Doodle came floating up on the southerly breeze. "Ah!" exclaimed the Buccaneer, "Here comes Jonathan, our cheap-Jack cousin: been home to refit and reload I suppose." Presently a long black hull with a good sheer forward came, as it were, out of the low lying land below the city.
In days long gone by, such a suspicious looking craft would have made the bold Buccaneer beat to quarters, when out would have gone his guns, but times had greatly changed, and pirates of the open and declared type were not to be seen on Western waters. The black flag with death's head and cross-bones is never boldly run up now to the mast-head as in the good brave days of old. It frightens people. So all robberies both on sea and land are done under more respectable looking flags; and very much more genteelly. No walking the plank, no running up to the yard arm. Now a whole crew are sent to the bottom of the sea at a single shot, and there is an end of them.
The stranger finding a comfortable berth, rounded to, as sailors say. Splash went her anchor, rattle, rattle went her chain. Down came the yards, clewlines and buntlines were well manned, and up went the snowy sails. The nimble seaman scudded up aloft, and rolled up the canvas, and everything was trimmed down, and hauled taught, and his yards squared in proper ship-shape fashion. "Bravo, Jonathan!" cried the Buccaneer. "Nearly as well done as I could have done it myself. True chip of the old block; eh! Dogvane?"
"Yes, sir: and at driving a bargain, or getting the better of a friend, our Jonathan has not an equal."