Still we stood on with all sails set. Much the same scene occurred which had happened before, when we saw the felucca off Saint Kitt’s. Ammunition was got up—the guns were all ready to run out—the small-arms were served out—and the passengers brought out their pistols and fowling-pieces. Everybody, indeed, became very warlike and heroic. Still the little craft which called forth these demonstrations, as she lay dipping her bows into the swell, with her canvas of whiteness so snowy, the emblem of purity, looked so innocent and pretty, that a landsman would scarcely have expected any harm to come out of her. Yet those accustomed to the West Indies had cause to dread that style of craft, capable of carrying a numerous crew, of pulling a large number of oars, and of running up a narrow river, or shallow lagoon, to escape pursuit.
At last we came up with the felucca. She lay hove-to with her head towards us. There was, certainly, a very suspicious look about her, from the very apathy with which the few people on deck regarded us. However, as we looked down on her deck, we saw six guns lashed along her bulwarks, and amidship there was something covered with a tarpaulin, which might be a heavier gun than the rest. We stood on till her broadside was brought to bear on our counter. At that moment, up sprung from each hatchway some sixty as ugly-looking cut-throats as I ever wish to see; and they were busily engaged in rapidly casting loose their guns; and we were on the point of firing, when, who should we see on their deck, but the old man who had been our passenger! He instantly recognised Captain Helfrich, who was standing near the taffrail, and making a sign to the crew of the felucca, they dived below as quickly as they had appeared. He took off his three-cornered hat and waved it to our captain, who waved his in return; and then he made a sign that he would come on board us.
Instantly the captain ordered the sails to be clewed up. Had the old gentleman been an admiral, he could not have been obeyed more promptly. A boat shoved off from the felucca with four hands in her, and he came on board us. The big negro was not with him, nor did I see him on the deck of the felucca. The captain and the stranger were closeted together for a quarter of an hour or more; and the latter then coming on deck, bowed, with somewhat mock politeness to the passengers, who were assembled staring at him, and stepped into his boat.
No sooner had he gone, than we again made sail. The felucca lay hove-to some little time. She then wore round, and stood after us. So rapidly did she come up with us, that it was very clear we had not the slightest chance of getting away from her, however much we might wish to do so. She kept us company all the day, and at night, in the first watch, I could see her shadowy form gliding over the sea astern of us.
Peter and I talked the matter over together in a whisper. “I’ll tell you what I think is something like the truth,” said he. “To my mind it’s this:— When the captain was a young man out in these parts, he fell in with that old gentleman,—who isn’t so old though as he pretends to be. Well, the captain went and did something to put himself in his power; and that’s the reason the captain is so afraid of him. And then, from what I see, I suspect that the captain saved him from drowning, or maybe from hanging; or in some way or other preserved his life; and that makes him grateful, and ready to do the captain a good turn; or, at all events, prevents him from doing him a bad one. If it was not for that, we should have had all our throats cut by those gentry, if we hadn’t managed to beat them off; and that would have been no easy job. I may be wrong altogether, but this is what I think,” continued Peter. “There’s one thing, particularly, I want to say to you, Jack: never go and do anything wrong, and fancy that it will end with the thing done. There’s many a man who has done a wrong thing in his youth, and has gone through life as if he had a rope round his neck, and he has found it turning up here and there, and staring him in the face when he has least expected it. When once a bad thing is done, you can’t get rid of it—you can’t undo it—you can’t get away from it, any more than you can call the dead to life. You may try to forget it; but something or other will always remind you of it, as long as you live. Then, remember there is another life we’ve got to look to, when every single thing we’ve done on earth must be remembered—must be acknowledged—must be made known. You and I, and every sailor, should know that any moment we may be sent into another world to begin that new life, and to stand before God’s judgment-seat. I think of this myself sometimes; but I wish that I could think of it always; and that I ever had remembered it. Had I always thought of that awful truth, there are many things I could not possibly have ventured to do which I have done; and many things which I have left undone, which I should have done. Jack, my boy, I say I have done you some little good, but there’s no good I could ever possibly do you greater than teaching you to remember that truth always. But I must not knock off this matter without warning you, that I may be thinking unjustly of the captain: and I certainly would not speak to anyone else aboard as I have done to you.”
I thanked Peter for the advice he had given me, and promised that I would not repeat what he had said.
“Can you see the felucca, Tillson?” I heard Mr Gale say to Tom, who was reputed to have the sharpest eyes aboard.
“No, sir; she’s nowhere where she was,” he answered, after peering for some time into the darkness astern.
We all kept looking out for some time, but she did not reappear. The mate seemed to breathe more freely, and I must say that I was glad to be rid of the near neighbourhood of the mysterious stranger. When morning broke, she was nowhere to be seen. Whenever, during that and the following days, a sail appeared anywhere abaft the beam, till her rig was ascertained, it was instantly surmised that she was the felucca coming back to overhaul us. Even the mates did not seem quite comfortable about the matter; and the captain was a changed man. His usual buoyant spirits had deserted him, and he was silent and thoughtful. I could not help thinking that Peter’s surmises were correct.
At last we brought up once more in Port-Royal Harbour. Having landed our passengers, and discharged our cargo, we sailed again for Morant Bay, Saint Thomas’s, and other places along the coast, to take in a freight of sugar, which was sent down in hogsheads from the plantations in the neighbourhood.