“Keep it still, Marmaduke,” he answered gloomily. “I feel that I shall soon be summoned hence. God’s wrath rests on the willing homicide, and I have sent that man without an evil deed repented of into the presence of his Maker. I was too eager to fire. Almost before the word was given I had lifted my hand to do the accursed deed. I would far, far rather have been shot myself. Let my misery be a warning to you. Never on any account lift your hand against the life of a fellow-creature, unless you are fighting for your country or attacked by assassins. The world may gloss over the deed as it will; the conscience cannot gild a crime.”
He said a good deal more in the same style. I tried to comfort him as well as I could, and talked about my sister and the future.
“What, unite a spotless hand to that of one stained with the blood of a fellow-creature!” he exclaimed. “No, Marmaduke, when she knows the truth, she will shudder at the thought.”
I now saw that he was altogether unnerved, and I hoped that, if his surgeon was a sensible man, he might do him more good than I could with any arguments at my command. After a time I went on deck, and finding the surgeon walking by himself, I went up to him and told him what I thought.
“Very sensible, youngster. Some soothing draught is what he wants. I’ll get him to take it,” he answered. “Your relative, let me tell you, had a narrow escape. Did he show you where the bullet grazed his head and took off the hair?”
“No, indeed. I did not know even that Captain Staghorn had fired,” said I.
“Ay, but he did though, and he aimed at your cousin’s brain,” said the surgeon. “Mr Sandford tells me that, as he looked at his antagonist’s evil eye, he never expected to hear the captain speak again. He’s unhappy now, and shocked; very natural for a man of fine feeling; but he’ll get over it, don’t be afraid.”
“Then the wretched man took the advice of his evil counsellor, and resolved to kill my poor cousin,” I thought to myself. I was afraid, however, that the fact would be no comfort to him, but would rather aggravate his suffering when he thought that the last feeling which had animated the bosom of the man who had been so suddenly sent to his dread account was that of bitter animosity and revenge. I instinctively felt this, and so, when I returned to the cabin before leaving the ship, I refrained from touching on the subject. I did not know at the time, nor did anyone else on board, I am afraid, in a position to speak to him, where alone he could seek for comfort and consolation in his wretchedness, for wretched he was, and almost hopeless.
However, I must not longer dwell on the subject. I returned to the Doris, but I got leave on most days to visit my cousin. I did not see any great change in him for the better. An enquiry took place with regard to the duel, but the evidence in his favour was so strong, and Captain Staghorn’s character was so notorious, that he was acquitted of all blame in the matter. I was truly glad to find that we and the Pearl were to sail together and cruise in company for some time, in search of some of the enemy’s privateers, which had been committing havoc among our merchantmen. The day before we sailed we received a visit from old Colonel Pinchard, and we invited him down to dinner. He seemed in high feather, having got as many pupils as he could manage to instruct in French, and, moreover, as he told us, he had hopes that he had softened the heart of a Creole lady, who, though somewhat weighty herself, was outweighed by the bags of doubloons of which she was the owner, not to speak of a number of male and female slaves, who acknowledged her as their mistress. “Ah, you see, vary good, vary good,” he added. “You see, moch obliged to you for take me prisoner. I drink to de santé of all de young gentlemans of de Doris.” The old colonel certainly contrived to make himself very happy, and we sent him on shore singing alternately the Marseillaise hymn, some Royalist tunes, and God Save the King, while he kept occasionally shouting out “Vive Napoleon!”
“Vive l’Angleterre!”