MR. PIERCE SENDS SMOOTH DOWN AMONG THE BRITISHERS.
"Mr. Smooth (I write after the style most in fashion), having been associated with Mr. Pierce, whose Minister in general he was, as has been set forth in this history, is come to be regarded as a very dangerous individual. It is astonishing with what facility we gain bad repute from association with a certain class of men and things. Our country is a stalwart oasis, rising in reproachful greatness over the old and dwindling dependencies around it; but our Pierce government is a waste in its centre, contaminating and casting the blight of intrigue upon those connected with it. It builds bulwarks for itself, and breaks them down with the mere fog of its own breakers. It, like a dauntless boy, seizes the helm of State, and steering by scheme instead of compass, runs the ship ashore in unknown seas. As Smooth is a national Christian, he believes the timbers of the old ship tough and strong, or they had been bilged ere this. But, while speaking of contamination in connection with Mr. Pierce, he (Smooth) is forcibly reminded of the similarity between it and an episode in the life of his great-grandfather. This venerable ancestor, when fine society was less tenacious of its associations, entered upon the cultivation of pumpkins as a business, but in after life, as the novelist has it, became a railroad president, and as an inseparable result, a great financier. When in the latter position, being a very sensitive person, he tried to get rid of the odor of the pumpkin business; but all to no purpose. Do what he would, go where he would, contribute to what he would, mix with what society he would, be as generous as he would, people were heard to whisper 'pumpkins;' and to construe his motives as prompted by the same spirit which induced him to make a business of cultivating that vegetable. A similar odor, arising from his connection with Pierce, Smooth found clinging to his garments. The world in general viewed him as a dangerous man, for the simple reason that his master was regarded with the same eye of suspicion. Pierce was not ignorant of this, and to obviate Smooth's difficulties, said he would send him Down East, as before related. Being of an undecided turn, he could not make up his mind about the war business in Europe, nor could he exactly define where he stood with regard to Central America. He would like to give me (Smooth) the job to do the fighting for these United States, for he felt sure I could not fail to make a grand affair of it. As for Caleb being taken into the contract (he, the General, shook his head doubtingly), he had some doubt of the policy; he was fast enough, but there was no knowing which way he would turn at any moment, nor was he at all times to be trusted. For the present, Smooth must be contented with a first-class mission to Down East, where he would settle the fish and other questions international; at the same time, he might be evolving in his mind the affair of the war. Did Minister Smooth deem it expedient, he might without prejudice, taking the Ostend for example, call together on the Island of St. Paul—or, if preferable, the Isle of Sables—a Congress of American Ministers, provided, nevertheless, he invite Major Hammet, of the Pictou Mission, and Governor Darby, of the Isle of Dogs. Pierce strictly enjoined that no letters be received from Monsieur Souley, nor his dogmatic Secretary, and that the subjects to be discussed were the internal affairs of Baffin's Bay, Greenland, the North Pole, the Labrador Coast, and the straits of Bell Isle—from which the importation of cod oil had sadly fallen off during our fish difficulties. Not to weary the reader, Smooth is here happy to relieve his mind by stating that simple prudence restrained him from calling together this august Congress; he left it where he found it—in Mr. Pierce's fruitful head.
"Conscious of the necessity, Smooth bound Mr. Pierce down to detail, particularly stipulating that he should bear the ultimate responsibility in the event of failure. Now to the result!
"His opinion of the Novascotians had always been favorable, and when he left Mr. Pierce it was with a promise that he would do all he could to enlighten them. But as impressions will change at a nearer view, so when he got wrong did he regard both the quality and quantity of their radicalism as injurious to the best interests of the State. There was in the little green-hilled province an endless amount of political talking done, with so small an amount of patriotism evinced, that we were not at a loss for the cause that had kept the State in obscurity. Then there seemed so much government, that everything was ungoverned. And he (Smooth) thought there was a want of activity, physical as well as mental, and a recklessness of getting into debt to Mr. John Bull, who never could infuse a sufficient sense of honor into his Colonial subjects to make them pay over, or regard their obligations. Want of energy and a criminal dependence upon the 'home Government' for assistance, with which to develop the resources of the country, resulted in a want of confidence in the State's own means to better its condition. The Home Government, and an imported Governor, were blighting to their vital energies. This subject, however, is not fruitful, hence his reader will please accompany him to a different. Having left Pierce for a time, Smooth, with that resolution so characteristic of his countrymen, wherever found, entered into the codfish business. Transforming himself (after the manner of his uncle Jeff Davis), into a captain of the fishing schooner Starlight, which said schooner he ran over the treaty line straight into Fox Island, on the coast of Cape Breton, where he proposed making the acquaintance of the inhabitants, and, if possible, a treaty of friendship and commerce. The waters in and about the port were alive with mackerel—the finest, plumpest, fattest, and most willing fish ever seen in any waters. They sported round us, looking clever enough to make all on board the schooner believe they wanted to come on board. The crew felt like scraping acquaintance with them, favoring them with a hook, and the like; but then there interposed that great bugbear—the treaty line. Hard was it to tell where this line was; it might, for aught to the contrary, be on the top of a wave, upon which we might be tossed, much against Smooth's inclination, far into the unlawful side. Being, however, inside of the line and surrounded by mackerel, one would have supposed the Nova Scotians had been on the alert catching them. The case was just the reverse, for not a Nova Scotiaman was to be seen. To Smooth's mind this was making a law to protect the lazy, something he never approved of, more especially in these days of energy and railroads. A determination was come to, after mature deliberation, that fish there were and fish our boys must have, so you must lend an ear while Smooth relates the manner in which he got them. Deacon Hawkins kept an inn for the entertainment of man and beast. It was not the very best kind of an inn, for it was managed by the deacon's wife, whose parsimony and love of Friday evening meetings had lost her nearly all her guests and driven her children barefoot into the street. On the day following the Starlight's arrival, as luck would have it, a 'political meeting' was to be holden at the Deacon's, when a considerable amount of first-rate drinking was sure to come off. Smooth, being Mr. Pierce's minister in general, was honored with an invitation which he declined in consideration of his anxiety to be among the mackerel. Something must indeed be done for the mackerel; the case was a serious one. Had the Britishers shown a resolution to be among the fish, Smooth had lent them a hand to secure the whole shoal, and then brought them back, merely to avoid the penalty of the British law, and secure the bounty given by ours. Well, the Britishers were all gone to a political meeting, where a noisy politician of the name of Joe Howe, and another of the name of Doyle, having come all the way from Halifax, and brought with them other great men of the political world of Nova Scotia, would relieve themselves of ponderous speeches, to hear which all the old men of the parish would take their promising sons. Smooth never regarded political meetings over highly, and had more than once thought those so earnest in attending them had done much better attending their potato fields. With this opinion made stronger in the present instance, he counselled Mister Splitwater, the mate, whose logic never was known to be at fault. Splitwater, agreed that it was expedient to be in pursuit of the fish while the Britishers were attending their political gatherings and prayer-meetings. Mackerel were right knowing fish, he said, and could with good feed be coaxed across the line, and into the waters not held sacred against American hooks by British law. And to this end a goodly amount of bait was ground up; and the wind coming in the quarter most favorable to our movements, canvas was got on the Starlight, and in charge of Splitwater, who was directed to keep a bright eye on the warships, she put to sea like a thing of life dancing with snowy wings over the blue, blue waters. While he was taking care of the fish, Smooth remained on shore, keeping those who attended the political meeting all right, and making a speech or two when called upon.
"To hear the eloquent Joe Howe tell the Nova Scotians what they would be were it not for James Johnson and Toryism was really very amusing. He forgot to tell them that he had no serious objection to being made Colonial Secretary seeing that a nice little salary was attached. When Smooth made his appearance at the political gathering of course no one thought there was any fish-taking going on. Then he endeavored to make the credulous citizens feel free and easy, entertaining them with jokes of a strong kind, and explaining the crude process of electioneering down in Texas and Arkansas. No sooner had the politicians got through their speeches than they retired to what was called an 'open house,' where all good radicals could drink ad libitum and make merry. Smooth was honored with an invitation to join in a few joyous glasses, but he rather doubted the policy of drinking so much election liquor. It might under certain circumstances serve the ends of politicians, but never the greater interests of a nation. A drinking man is sure to fool himself in the end, nor can a man serve the interests of the State who neglects his own. But, be it here understood Uncle Sam, there is a philosophical way of applying the practical to make things profitable, which may be carried out with more facility by making oneself cheerful and courteous with those among whom we may be cast. This Smooth always aimed to do.
After a while Smooth calculated how he'd got politics enough; an' knowin' how Splitwater was 'commodatin' the mackerel outside the line, he steps down to Deacon Sam Moody's prayer meetin', what they holds at night after the 'lection meetin. Here it was all right; Smooth was just as much of a Christian as anybody could honestly be, and a longer face nobody could desire. Smooth, at the Deacon's, was-well known for his pious principles; but the good folk about there had never seen Smooth in an anxious way. Well, the deacon congratulated Smooth on his appearance, his spiritual welfare, his happy prospects of something beyond this. It would have done you good to see the brothers and sisters crowd round him, lookin' so excited 'bout the care of somethin' anybody can take care of without neglectin' business. (We here give Smooth's language in its crude state). It was amazin' to see what an amount of pious a fellow could get into his face, and then get his face into a right focus; but when brother Smalwood invited him to pray! that was shavin' the thing a little too close—more nor a man what was thinking about Splitwater and the mackerel could shoulder. Had not a mite of an objection to 'commodatin' the good folks with 'most anything, or puttin' on the longest and seriousest face out doors—a face that would beat the Deacon's; but couldn't go t'other thing. Smooth could rather beat the Deacon on a serious face; but the old hoss was a regular steamboat when it come to exhortations and such things. Wouldn't 'a done to have a brush with the Deacon, without being sure of beating him, for he was mighty egotistical about his prayers. Well, there was no help for it, we must feel kind and happy to see so many happy ones around one, who could not? It was strictly in accordance with Smooth's philosophy to make people as happy as possible, and so he kept asking anxious questions, gettin' satisfactory answers,—answers that would be sure to make me all straight in the pious, with a day or two's consideration.
"In this way the spirits kept up until the pleasant hour of midnight came; then the Deacon invited me to go home and hang up at his house. It was just the thing for Smooth, but he had to decline twice before he got over the polite so to accept: and then he knew Split was taking the mackerel aboard like sixty. So he went home with the deacon, turned in for the night, and knew nothing more till daylight.
"Now he must disclose how the Starlight and Split got along, coaxing the mackerel with fresh bait, just as General Pierce does the Soft Shells. Split meets the schooner Spunk, Skipper Pluck, afore he begun to get to the line, outside of which he could fish according to law. Split and he were old cronies, and they just heaves to, and has a talk about what's best to be done. 'Twarn't long afore they had negotiated the plan, which, when carried out, they were to divide the spoils equal. Seeing how the Britishers, every year, pay over a million pounds sterling for keeping open the fishing question, driving the fish out of the water with big man-o'-war ships and steamships, and making a deal of pleasant fun for a great many fine gentlemen who threaten to swallow a fisherman for taking a fish; and that the United States pay about one-fifth as much for the privilege of sending some of their big ships to help the Britishers play the genteel, while hoping that stupid diplomacy will long continue to give them the same Opportunity, Split and Pluck reckoned how they'd come a point over the Britishers.
"The great point was to steer clear of the big British steamer, Devastation. Pluck said he seed her steamin' away down to the northward t'other a'ternoon, and so it was agreed that Pluck, with the Pinkey Spunk, should run down in her track. If he sighted her in the morning he was just to play her about some, until Split got the mackerel on board. And so, instead of the Devastation going in search of him, the Spunk went after her, and, as luck would have it, met her just inside of the treaty line. The Spunk pretended to be shying—put on the rags as if he was going to try legs with the Devastation. Crowdin' steam like all Jehu, down the Devastation came, as if she were going to smash the Spunk, and blow her to Daniel's dungeon. Bang! whang! boomed a gun or two, but seem' how ther' warn't no iron fallin' about, Pluck reckoned he'd keep her to it a time longer, knowin' in his soul that every mile further he got the Devastation away from the Starlight, so much the better for Splitwater and the mackerel. It warn't long, afore whir! ziz! ziz! came somethin' what made a mighty splashin', and looked savagarous, square across her stern sheets. Pluck reckoned how the Britisher had got his dander up, and about cleverest thing would be to round to, seem' how the feller was wastin' his shot, and sendin' things what might save a body the trouble of puttin' on a night-cap about bedtime. 'Now,' said Pluck, 'the Devastation feels kind a out o' sorts, and 'll just knock the Spunk into an apple dumplin';' but she didn't! Well, the skipper and his dandy officers came on board, looking all so shined up, and vented their indignant feelins' by takin' it all out in a shower of cussin' that would 'a made yer hair stand on end straight. In a few minutes more, a feller in a monkey jacket, a brass button on his hat, and otherwise officially costumed, put on the dignity of the quarter-deck, and out-talked the skipper. 'Now, why the devil didn't you come to when you saw our signal?' says he, with a face of daggers, and looking at Pluck as if he was goin' to spring the main-mast with his teeth. 'Hand up yer papers here—quick, bear a hand! Take off yer hatches, too; you've been fishing inside of the line,' he grumbled out, as quickly as you'd overhaul a chain cable. Pluck bore it like a philosopher, cool and quietly. 'No we hain't nether, stranger; hain't hooked a fish for two days. Can't 'commodate us with a sup of fresh water, can ye? Wanted to get a chance at the shore, but ain't had one for more nor three weeks; true! by Christopher Columbus,' rejoined Uncle Pluck, puttin' on the most innocent face ye ever did see.
"'We'll talk about that by-and-by,' says the Britisher. 'If you'd a cum to, like a man, as you should, and not given us this long chase after you, you might have had some claim to our generosity. We are only carrying out Her Majesty's orders for the benefit of the Colonial fisheries.'