“You are very well off where you are,” remarked Stephen, “and I would advise you to stick to the desk till you have gained a thorough knowledge of mercantile affairs. You may then have an opportunity of turning them to good account, whereas at present you scarcely know enough to be of much use to you.”
Roger could not but acknowledge that this was the case, and he wisely determined to quell his impatience and to go on as he had begun.
They both occasionally received letters from home, which seldom, however, contained much matter of interest except to themselves. More frequently news came from London of important public matters. They heard of the Rye-house Plot, of the fall of Shaftesbury and of his escape to Holland, the execution of Russell and Sydney, the death of Essex by his own hand in the Tower, to escape the fate awaiting him. Roger took but little interest in politics; Stephen, on the contrary, was always eager to read the News-Letter when it arrived from the capital. He mourned over the banishment of the Duke of Monmouth, who, after the discovery of the Rye-house Plot, though forgiven by the King, thought it prudent to retire to Holland; and he was indignant at hearing of the way the Duke of York was ruling Scotland, of the odious laws he had passed, and of the barbarous punishments he caused to be inflicted, often himself being present when prisoners were subjected to torture. It was said that he watched the agony of the sufferers as if it afforded him intense satisfaction.
“His tyrannical proceedings show clearly how he intends to govern England. Should he succeed to the throne of England, he must never be allowed to mount it,” exclaimed Stephen. “He will not be content till he has crushed out our civil and religious liberties, which the best blood of our country has been shed to obtain. Would that when the gallant Duke of Monmouth came to the west, the thousands who greeted him had banded together and marched to London to insist on the exclusion of the Duke of York and the nomination of Monmouth as heir to his father.”
“Such a proceeding could scarcely have succeeded without bloodshed,” observed Roger.
“Better to have shed a few streamlets then than the rivers which may have to flow should the tyrant gain the throne,” answered Stephen.
The opinions of Stephen Battiscombe were held by a good many others, although, like wise men, when they could not benefit the cause they did not utter them in public. Bristol having had fighting enough in former years, they did not again wish to see war brought to her gates. Stephen might at present safely entertain his opinions, but there seemed no chance just then of his having an opportunity of practically acting on them.
The summer had commenced, when one morning Mr Kempson sent for Stephen.
“You know, Battiscombe, that we have a new vessel, the Dolphin, fitting out in the river, and judging from the intelligence you have shown and your aptitude for business that you will be well suited for the office, we propose sending you out as supercargo, and as young Roger Willoughby has given us satisfaction, we think of letting him go as cabin-boy that he may assist you. Are you willing to undertake the office?”
“With all my heart,” answered Stephen; “and I can answer for Willoughby, who will, I know, be delighted, for he has long wished to go to sea.”