“Yes! it must be Harry Skipwith, turned up out here in the Gulf of Mexico,” he exclaimed. “Come on board my boat, Harry, and tell me all about it as we pull back to our ocean-home on the briny wave. That’s not the right quotation, but never mind.”
The next instant I was shaking hands with my old school-fellow, the eccentric but gallant second lieutenant of H.M.S. Spitfire. I need hardly say that I was most hospitably and kindly received on board the frigate, which was going to put into the Havanna to gain further evidence for the conviction of the pirates; and, what was of no little importance to me, the captain offered to endorse any bill I might wish to draw at that city for the replenishment of my wardrobe.
I enjoyed the luxury of a wash and shave in Trevor’s cabin, and a clean shirt, which I had not obtained on board the pirate, and more than all, the pleasant conversation of men of my own rank and education, of which I had been deprived for many a long day. I got the surgeon of the ship to look to Marcus, who rapidly recovered from his wounds, and when I told the captain his history, he declared that it would be a shame to let him be hung as a pirate, which it was plain that he was not of his own free will.
“You must arrange some plan to allow him to escape, only take care that he does not join any fresh band of pirates.”
I thanked the captain for his kind feeling towards my brave preserver, and promised that he should not be found on board another pirate vessel.
A week after the scenes I have described we entered the picturesque harbour of Havanna. While the frigate remained there I lived on board her, because I had many friends who pressed me to do so, and because the sleeping accommodations in the hotels in that capital of Cuba are far from satisfactory. At length the time arrived for the frigate to proceed to Jamaica, where the pirates were to be tried. I was thankful to find that all the evidence procured against them related to a period anterior to the time that Marcus had joined them, when I could prove that I had met him in the character of a slave in the United States. I bade farewell to Trevor and my other friends, and took up my quarters at one of the hotels. Though the best in the place it was far from comfortable; for though the provisions and public rooms were tolerable, the bed-rooms were much the contrary. In mine there were five beds; one occupied by a man who walked in his sleep, and who if he had not committed a murder, by his gestures looked as if he would. In another, the sleeper snored like a rhinoceros; and in the third lay an Irishman, who would talk, awake or asleep, generally to me and at the rest of the party. Nothing could make him keep silent; a boot-jack flung at his head had no effect; he seemed to know what was coming and bobbed under the bed-clothes. The fourth was occupied by a Portuguese dying of consumption, far away from his kindred and friends. Nothing could be done for him.
I have but a word or two to say of Havanna as a city. The streets are numerous, but narrow and dirty; there is a tolerably large palace for the governor, a good opera-house for the people on the evenings of most days in the week, and a very ugly big cathedral for the Sunday mornings, and a paseo, or public drive, for the afternoons. On this paseo are seen various antique vehicles, called volantes, each carrying two or three dames in full dress. A volante is built like a cabriolet on two wheels, with very long shafts, the points resting in a sort of saddle on a horse’s back,—which horse is ridden by a huge negro in vast leather leg coverings reaching, as he sits, almost up to his ears, and no feet to them, though with silver spurs, white breeches, a gold-laced red jacket, and a broad-brimmed straw hat. Everybody knows that cigars are manufactured in Havanna, that the slave trade is winked at, if not encouraged, by the authorities, who find it not altogether unprofitable to their own pockets, and that piracy, for the same reason, is not held in absolute disrepute by the same respectable gentlemen.
I had gone down to see the last of the frigate as she sailed out of the harbour, when, as I was about to return hotel-wards, I saw a black head rise slowly out of the fore-peak of a Spanish brig lying near, and soon the whole figure of Marcus appeared in view. He saw me, and as the vessels in that harbour are moored stem on to the quays, side by side, he came along over the bowsprit and swung himself down close to me. He congratulated himself on being once more at liberty, though he thought it best not to tell me how he had obtained his freedom. I told him that I was very glad to see him at liberty, and offered to supply him with funds, slender as mine were, to enable him to undertake some honest calling. He replied that he had ample means for his support, a thick roll of gold round his waist, besides a purse full of coin. “Indeed,” he added, “I hope that I shall not offend you, sir, when I tell you that I purposed offering you money, to enable you to proceed on your travels till you could reach some place where you may replenish your purse.” I thanked Marcus for his generous offer, but I felt doubly obliged to my friend the captain, who had enabled me to supply myself with funds, lest I should have been tempted to accept it; for I could not help reflecting how that money must have been obtained.
“We may, I hope,” said Marcus, “meet again, though in what part of the world I know not; but I have one favour to ask,—it is that you will give me your address in England, and that should I ever again reach that country of true freedom, I may be allowed to visit you.”
I need scarcely say that I agreed to what Marcus proposed. There was something about him which strangely attracted me, and with regret I bid him farewell, scarcely expecting ever to see him again.