“No, I would not. I would leave them to the just punishment their own consciences would inflict ere long,” he answered gravely. “But I would not allow men like Captain Staghorn to retain His Majesty’s commission, and to ride roughshod over his brother officers, just because he fears God’s wrath less than they do. But you ask me how this duel is to be prevented? If you were to let the admiral himself know, he would not interfere. The only way I can think of, would be to shoot Captain Staghorn first, and that wouldn’t be quite the thing. Even if we could give him a settler, we must never do evil that good may come of it; I know that. The fact is, I am at fault, Mr Merry. If either of them were living on shore, something might be done; but it’s no easy matter, and that you’ll allow, to get hold of two captains of men-of-war living on board their own ships.”
I agreed with him with a heavy heart. We twisted and turned the matter over in every way, but did not succeed in seeing daylight through it. Perhaps if we had known how and where to seek for assistance, we might have found it. It was my first watch. After our supper of biscuits and rum and water, I went on deck, and when my watch was over, turned into my hammock with cruel apprehensions as to the news I should hear in the morning.
I was somewhat surprised to find myself sent for, as soon as I was dressed, into the captain’s cabin. I felt anxious, for I thought that it must be something about my cousin. The captain, however, wanted simply to tell me to take a note on board the Daring, and to return with an answer.
It was a lovely morning; the water was as smooth as glass, the sky pure and bright, and the distant landscape which I have before described looking romantic and lovely in the extreme. As I shoved off from the frigate I saw a boat from the Pearl; the captain’s gig I guessed, cross our bows and pull towards the shore of the Palisades some little way up the harbour. I was soon alongside the Daring, and as I crossed the quarter-deck with the note in my hand, I saw that Captain Staghorn, who was in full uniform, was about to go on shore. The officers on duty were ranged on either side of the gangway in the usual manner. Major O’Grady, stiff and sour, was by his side. There was a terrible savage look, I thought, in Captain Staghorn’s grey evil eye. I stepped across the deck to deliver my note. Before I gave it, I heard him say as he walked along the deck, “I only intend to wing the fellow, major. I swore long ago I’d punish him, and I will keep my word.”
The major made a grim face, and muttered, “The brain is the best billet.” I handed my note.
“Wait, youngster,” he said, sharply, “I shall be back presently, I’ll send an answer then;” and crumpling up the note, he put it in his pocket.
As he was just stepping down the gangway ladder, he turned, and said aloud to his first-lieutenant, “Should the admiral and Captain so-and-so arrive before I return give my compliments and say that I was compelled to go on shore, but shall be back immediately.” I found that Captain Staghorn had invited a large party to breakfast with him on that morning, and that their arrival on board was every minute expected. “Ay, ay, sir,” answered the first-lieutenant; and Captain Staghorn and Major O’Grady took their seats. The oars fell with a splash into the water, and the gig darted away in the direction taken by the Pearl’s boat. I watched the two boats pulling up the harbour as long as they continued in sight. I had never in my life felt so anxious and grieved. From what I had been told of Captain Staghorn, and of his wonderful skill as a shot, I did not for a moment doubt that my poor cousin’s life was completely in his power, and from the words uttered by that evil-visaged major, I had a dreadful apprehension that he would exercise his skill to my relative’s destruction. My grief was not only on his account, but on that of my dear sister Bertha. I thought of the bitter sorrow she would suffer when she heard how he had died. Had he been killed in action with the enemies of his country, she would have mourned his loss long and deeply; for time, I knew, would soften such sorrow; but to hear that, weakly yielding to an abominable custom, he had died infringing the laws of God and man, would prove to a person with a mind and opinions such as hers almost unsupportable. “It will kill her, it will kill her!” I kept exclaiming to myself, and I could scarcely help wringing my hands and giving way to tears. I have often since thought, that if boys and men did but reflect more than they are apt to do of the sorrow and suffering which their acts may cause to those they leave at home, whom they love dearly, and on whom they would be really unwilling to inflict the slightest pain, they would often pause before they plunged into sin and folly. I fancied that no one would know what the two captains had gone about, and was walking the deck in solitude, meditating, as I have said, on the cruel event about to occur, when I was accosted by the midshipman who had paid the Doris a visit a few days before, and invited down to breakfast.