“Jacob,” said the captain to him one day, “I can’t quite make it out. I thought your master was an abstainer.”
Jacob shook his head.
“I thought so too, captain; but I’ve found myself grievously mistaken. He’s no mind to give up the drink, you may be sure. He’s only teetotal when he cannot get it.”
“I’m pretty sure,” said the other, “that he takes it now. That fellow Juniper Graves is no fit companion for him.”
“Ah, captain, that man’s been his ruin in Australia; and he’ll be his ruin when he gets back to the old country, if he doesn’t shake him off. But I fear he’ll ne’er do that. The old lad hasna a fitter tool in all the world nor yon chap. He’ll not stick at anything. He’s tried robbery and murder, and he’ll not be over nice about squeezing all he can out of the poor young mayster.”
Jacob then related to Captain Merryweather all he knew of Juniper Graves’ proceedings, and both he and the captain agreed together to watch him, and do their utmost to keep poor Frank out of his clutches.
“I don’t care so much about myself,” said Jacob; “though I’m quite sure he’d knock me overboard any day, if he’d the chance of doing it without being seen, for he hates me worse nor poison. But I’m grieved to the heart to see him winding hisself round Mayster Frank, who’s so kind and so warm-hearted and so free. I cannot forget how he risked his life to save mine when we was coming out, as you know, captain; and I’d give my own life for him now, if I could only get him clear of yon cunning rascal as is leading him blindfold to hell.”
“I’ve no doubt,” said the other, “that this man has brought spirits on board, and that he and Mr Oldfield drink in his cabin together.”
“Yes,” replied Jacob; “and you may be quite sure as he’ll hook all the brass out of the young mayster afore the voyage is over.”
It was just as Jacob and the captain surmised. Juniper Graves had brought a good stock of brandy and rum on board with him, and took care that Frank Oldfield should pay handsomely for what he was willing, after much solicitation, to part with. Let us look in upon them, as they sit together by Juniper’s berth. The time is midnight. Frank has stolen in while the captain has been sleeping, for he fears being seen going there by the honest sailor. There is a curtain hung up before the door to hide the light. A small candle lamp hung on gymbals is fixed to the woodwork, and throws a scanty gleam on the two figures which are engaged in earnest play. Yet how different are these two, spite of their companionship in evil! Frank, still beautiful in the refined cast of features, out of which intemperance has not yet been able to sear the traces of gentle blood and early culture; bright too and graceful in the masses of rich chestnut hair which adorn a forehead high and noble, yet now, alas! often crossed by lines of weary, premature care. Juniper, a compound of cat, fox, monkey, wolf—every feature of his contemptible face instinct with the greediest, most self-satisfied cunning. How could two such, so widely different in natural character, be yet so agreed? Alas! what will not the love of the drink, the slavery of the drink, the tyranny of the drink accomplish? Each holds his cards characteristically. Frank so carelessly that his adversary can see them; Juniper grasping and shading his with jealous vigilance, lest a single glimpse of them should be visible to his opponent. A large spirit-flask stands under the berth close by Juniper’s hand, and a glass is within the reach of each. They play on, for a while, in silence. Frank’s money is clearly slipping through his fingers, though he is allowed now and then to win, especially when he gets at all restive or suspicious.