When the spoilers had taken their departure, nothing but lamentations were heard. The humblest mariner had lost his all, the wages he had already earned, or the little venture he was bringing home to England, in the honest hopes of realizing enough to render a wife or parent comfortable. There was but one of that ship’s company preserved a sullen indifference; I, who had been stripped of more than all together, kept a moody silence, and uttered no complaint. All was gone at “one fell swoop”—the prospect of revisiting my native land—the hope of clearing my calumniated character from the unmerited obloquy whieh designing villains had heaped upon it—the means by which I expected to have effected it—of all, one luckless day had robbed me! The stupid calmness of despair tied my tongue, and gave to my countenance an unearthly composure, which many might have mistaken for philosophic resignation. But the bosom within was tortured—my’ sorrow was too great for language to convey; and, thunderstruck with the sudden visitation I had undergone, I was debating whether it were not at once better to end an existence not to be endured, and—“unannealed and unforgiven,” in defiance of his canon against self-murder,—venture desperately into the presence of an angry God.
These impious thoughts were mercifully terminated. I looked up, an eye was bent on mine. It was Dominique’s; and the mute expression of that faithful negro spoke its deep sympathy for my misfortune, and intimated an eternal attachment. A sudden revulsion of intent succeeded the promptings of despair. I had lost wealth—but had I not a friend? A stern determination came over me to live and dare Fortune’s worst; and when my dark follower placed silently a goblet in my hand, I drank the wine to the bottom, and swore no matter how darkly fate might frown, she should not crush my spirit.
“All’s gone, Dominique. We have no errand now to England.”
The negro answered with a groan.
“Shall we commence life anew, and again seek fortune in each other’s company?”
The hand I stretched out the negro pressed to his lips respectfully; and with a meaning look, told me that we should sink or rise together.
The plunder of the ship was followed by a scene of drunken insubordination—for the bad example which the captain set, the crew had followed; and on the second evening we were still a wreck upon the water, our top-gear over the sides, and none in temper or condition to repair the damage we had sustained, and replace our lost spars with jurymasts. On the third morning the ship’s company had become sufficiently sober to commence a work, that should hwe been long before effected—and I was sleeping in my cabin, worn out with the mental suffering I had undergone, when my slumbers were gently broken by my sable attendant, to acquaint me that another, and an equally dishonest looking vessel, was bearing down upon us fast, and barely a league to windward.
I hurried upon deck, and a glance confirmed Dominique’s announcement. The stranger was a large topsail-schooner, with raking masts, a long black hull, and Spanish ensign floating from her gaff-end. Her sailing properties were admirable; and her whole appearance told that she was neither adapted for, nor employed in peaceful commerce. When she rounded to under our stern, I counted nine ports aside—a huge pivot gun was on a traverse between her masts, and her decks seemed full of men. She could not be mistaken for a moment; she was a rover, a slaver, or a privateer, and, probably, all by turns.
An old adage * says, that a traveller already disencumbered of his property, feels little uneasiness in presence of a highwayman; and certainly, to me the appearance of this rakish schooner was a matter of perfect indifference. I saw her back her topsail, and take a position that placed us “end-on,” under the fire of her starboard guns. Immediately a boat was lowered, and twenty men pulled from her side and boarded us. This second visitation, and within eight-and-forty hours, caused but little sensation in the ship. All that was valuable was already gone; and the new comers must be men of uncommon industry and research, if they could discover much that was worth removal. Indeed, the style in which the Frenchman had cleared every thing away worth notice, could never be surpassed, and proved that in sea robbery his crew had attained perfection.
* Cantabit vacuus coram latroae viator.