“Well, you must sound these fellows, but do it cautiously—and try if the inducement of plenty of plunder and a free life will be likely to lead them to assist us in our bold undertaking. As for the boy Zabra, although there appears something very mysterious about him, and he looks as sharp as a sword-fish, I don’t think it possible he can find me out. Scorch my body to a cinder! but it would be a hard case if, after having baffled so many big vessels, I should be sunk by such a bit of a craft as that. However, I mus’n’t stay here any longer or my absence may create inquiry,” observed the speaker as he proceeded to the door; then looking at his associates said, “Remember what you have heard, and steer your course accordingly,” and with the same caution with which he entered left the cabin.
“Well, ar’n’t this enough to make a fellow ready to jump down his own throat wi’ vexation?” remarked Scrumpydike to his companion. “Here, I was jest ’gratulating myself that spiflicating that young blackamoor would be a tolerable bit o’ a pastime to cheer up the dulness o’ this here molloncholy life, when he turns round upon me and says it ar’n’t to be at no price! I’d rather live in a whale’s belly up to my nose in blubber than endure this uncomfortable state o’ feeling. Scrunch me if I wouldn’t. Don’t you think now, Master Log, it’s as bad a state o’ existence as is possible for a human to know on?”
“Bad, bad, shocking bad, particularly shocking bad, upon my word very particularly shocking bad, Mister Scrumpydike,” replied the commiserating captain’s clerk; and immediately afterwards the dissatisfied villain walked away to join his unsuspicious messmates.
[CHAP. III.]
A PHILANTHROPIST.
A few days after the circumstances that have been related, Oriel Porphyry, being alone, broke open the packet that had been given him by his father, and on perusal found it to contain the following communication:—
“It is time, my dear Oriel, that you should know something of your father’s history; that being made acquainted with the steps by which he has acquired his reputation, you may seek the same path to honour with a certainty that it cannot mislead; and the moment is equally opportune for you to learn the true state of your country, which you cannot know unless you can have the account from one who is neither desirous of deceiving himself nor his associates, that when you are called upon to take your place on the grand stage of the world, as you will be aware what portion of the drama has preceded your appearance, you may understand the tendency of the whole so well, as to be able to play your part with power, with truth, with a just conception of the character, to the satisfaction of yourself, and with the admiration of your audience. I have observed, with considerable anxiety, that you possess a disposition that does not conform itself readily to the spirit of the times. You are impatient of restraint—you are anxious for enterprise—you are yearning for distinction;—not that distinction which rewards the exertions of the truly great, the just, the good, the benevolent—which is the loving admiration of their fellow-creatures, and comes in the delightful shape of blessings, and good wishes, and the sight of social happiness—but the vain splendour of a false renown, such as is often acquired by adventurers, impostors, conquerors, and tyrants, and is made visible in the shrieks of wounded men, in the adulation of slaves, in tears and curses, blood and flame, in the blast of trumpets and the clang of chains. Your eyes are enamoured of the glory with which the mighty invest themselves: to excite the wonder of the fearful and the foolish, and assist in their subjection—thrones and sceptres, robes of state, gaudy ceremonies, and idle distinctions, dazzle your senses—you would wish them yours, seek for them, fight for them, die for them: having obtained them, your sole gratification would exist in exhibiting yourself surrounded by these delusive honours, or in conferring some of minor importance upon such of your followers as may make themselves most useful or agreeable: dying in seeking their possession, you would render up your everlasting soul, to mingle with the bright source from which it sprung, with the sole consolation that you will be talked of by a multitude you could not enslave.
“The only unerring way of judging of the value of a thing is by the happiness it produces. The degree of happiness that results to the acquirer of this glory, of which you are so desirous, must indeed be small, when we take into consideration the danger with which it is obtained, the fear of losing it, and the struggles to maintain its possession, which are its common accompaniments; and still less is the quantity of happiness it creates among those at whose expense it must exist—for there is no happiness in thraldom—in the debasement of human nature to an idol—in the march of conquering hordes destroying as they go—or in the bitter anguish of noble minds struggling in vain to emancipate themselves from the tyranny under which they groan. The only real happiness consists in the practice of benevolence, and the only real glory is the admiration it excites. I have enjoyed a more than ordinary share of happiness, because I have taken advantage of opportunities for benefiting my fellow-creatures that were presented to me in more than ordinary abundance, and I have acquired an unusual degree of reputation for a private individual, in consequence of making the most profitable use of these abundant opportunities for doing good.
“It was in the middle of the last reign, when the late emperor, after ascending the steps of military greatness to a throne, was pursuing an uninterrupted career of conquest throughout the vast continent of this immense portion of the globe, when I, a youth like yourself, but with far different feelings, left the mansion of my father, (who had lately been ennobled, as it is called, for his services in the wars,) to escape from a way of life it was desired I, being his eldest son, should follow—a way of slaughter and tyranny, of blood, and shame, and guilt, which was disgustingly repugnant to my disposition,—and disguised, and under a fictitious name, seeking some more honourable occupation, I was so fortunate as to enter into the service of the wealthiest merchant in the city of Columbus. I became useful to him—he praised my industry and integrity—I was admired by his daughter—she loved me for the praises to which she had been a frequent and not unwilling listener. He was generous and noble in his nature—she simple, modest, and kind. She was your mother, Oriel, and after having been enriched with her beauty and excellence, I became possessed of all the store of treasure, which had gone on accumulating as it passed from father to son through several generations of princely merchants.