W.H.G. Kingston

"Old Jack"

Chapter One.

Donnybrook Fair.

Jack began his story thus:

Of course you’ve heard of Donnybrook Fair, close to the city of Dublin. What a strange scene it was, to be sure, of uproar and wild confusion—of quarrelling and fighting from beginning to end—of broken heads, of black eyes, and bruised shins—of shouting, of shrieking and swearing—of blasphemy and drunkenness in all its forms of brutality. Ay, and as I’ve heard say, of many a deed of darkness, not omitting murder, and other crimes not less foul and hateful to Him who made this beautiful world, and gave to man a religion of love and purity. There the rollicking, roaring, bullying, fighting, harum-scarum Irishman of olden days had full swing for all the propensities and vile passions which have ruined him at home, and gained him a name and a fame not to be envied throughout the world. Often have I wondered whether, had a North American Indian, or a South-Sea Islander, visited the place, he could have been persuaded that he had come to a land of Christian men. Certainly an angel from heaven would have looked upon the assemblage as a multitude of Satan’s imps let loose upon the world. They tell me that the fair and its bedevilments have pretty well been knocked on the head. I am glad of it, though I have never again been to the spot from the day of which I am about to speak.

I remember very little of my childish life. Indeed, my memory is nearly a blank up to the time to which I allude. That time was one of the first days of that same Donnybrook Fair; but I remember that and good reason I have so to do. I was, however, but a small chap then, young in years, and little as to size.

My father’s name was Amos Williams. He came from England and settled in Dublin, where he married my mother, who was an Irishwoman. Her name I never heard. If she had relations, they did not, at all events, own her. I suspect, from some remarks she once let drop which I did not then understand, that they had discarded her because she had become a Protestant when she married my father. She was gentle and pious, and did her utmost, during the short time she remained on earth, to teach me the truths of that glorious gospel to which, in many a trial, she held fast, as a ship to the sheet-anchor with a gale blowing on a lee-shore. She died young, carried off by a malignant fever. Her last prayers were for my welfare here and hereafter. Had I always remembered her precepts I should, I believe, have been in a very different position to what I now am in my old age. My poor father took her death very much to heart. For days after her funeral he sat on his chair in our little cottage with his hands before him, scarcely lifting up his head from his breast, forgetting entirely that he ought to go out and seek for work, as without it he had no means of finding food for himself and me. I should have starved had not a kind woman, a neighbour, brought me in some potatoes and buttermilk. Little enough I suspect she had to spare after feeding her own children.

At length my father roused himself to action. Early one morning, seizing his hat and bidding me stay quiet till his return, he rushed out of the house. He was a stonemason. He got work, I believe, but the tempter came in his way. A fellow-workman induced him to enter a whisky shop. Spirits had, in his early days, been his bane. My mother’s influence had kept him sober. He now tried to forget his sorrow in liquor. “Surely I have a right to cure my grief as best I can,” said he. Unhappily he did not wait for a reply from conscience. Little food could he buy from the remnant of his day’s wages. Thus he went on from day to day, working hard when sober, drinking while he had money to pay for liquor.

Still his affection for me did not diminish. While in his right mind he could not bear to have me out of his sight. Every morning we might have been seen leaving our cottage, I holding his hand as he went to his work; yet nearly as certainly as the evening came round I had to creep supperless to bed. All day he would keep me playing about in his sight, except when any of his fellow-workmen, or people living near where we happened to be, wanted a lad to run on an errand. Then I was always glad of the job. Whenever, by happy chance, he came home sober in an evening, he would take me between his knees, and, parting my hair, look into my face and weep till his heart seemed ready to burst. But these occasions grew less and less frequent. What I have said will show that I have reason to love the memory of both my parents, in spite of the faults my unhappy father undoubtedly possessed.

Several months had thus passed away after my mother’s death, when one afternoon my father entered our cottage where he had left me since the morning.

“Jack, my boy,” said he, taking my hand, “come along, and I will show you what life is.” Oh, had he said, “what death is,” he would have spoken the truth.

I accompanied him willingly, though I saw at a glance that he had already been drinking. Crowds of people were going in the direction we took. For some days past I had heard the neighbours talking of the fair. I now knew that we were bound there. My mother had never allowed me to go to the place, so I had no notion what it was like. I expected to see something very grand and very beautiful—I could not tell what. I pushed on into the crowd with my father as eagerly as any one, thinking that we should arrive at the fair at last. I did not know that we were already in the middle of it. I remember, however, having a confused sight of booths, and canvas theatres, and actors in fine clothes strutting about and spouting and trumpeting and drumming; of rope-dancers and tumblers with painted faces; and doctors in gilded chariots selling all sorts of wonderful remedies for every possible complaint; and the horsemanship, with men leaping through hoops and striding over six steeds or more at full gallop; and the gingerbread stalls, and toy shops, and similar wonders; but what was bought and sold at the fair of use to any one I never heard.

My father had taken me round to several of the shows I have spoken of: when he entered a drinking-booth, and set himself down with me on his knee, among a number of men who seemed to be drinking hard. Their example stimulated him to drink harder than ever, and in a short time his senses completely left him. As, however, even though the worse liquor, he was peaceable in his disposition, instead of sallying forth as many did in search of adventures, he laid himself down on the ground with his head against the canvas of the tent, and told me to call him when it was morning. Some one at the same time handed me a piece of gingerbread, so I set myself down by his side to do as he bid me.

Those were the days of faction fights; and if people happened to have no cause for a quarrel, they very soon found one. The tent we were in was patronised by Orangemen, and of course was a mark for the attacks of the opposite party. My poor father had slept an hour or so, with three or four men near him in a similar condition, when a half-drunken body of men came by, shillelah in hand, looking out for a row. Unhappily the shapes of the heads of most of the sleepers were clearly developed through the canvas. The temptation was not to be resisted—whack—whack—whack! Down came the heavy stick of a sturdy Irishman upon that of my father. “Get up out of that, and defend yourselves!” sung out their assailants. Most of his companions rushed out to avenge the insult offered them, but my father made no answer. Numbers joined from all directions—shillelahs were flourished rapidly, and the scrimmage became general. I ran to the front of the tent and clapped my hands, and shouted with sympathy. Now the mass of fighting, shrieking men swayed to one side, now to the other; now they advanced, now they retreated, till by degrees the fight had reached a considerable distance from the tent.

I then went back to my place by my father’s side, wondering that he did not get up to join the fray. I listened, he breathed, but he did not speak. Still I thought he must be awake. “Father, father,” said I, “get up, do. It’s time to go home, sure now.” I shook him gently, but he made no reply. At length I could hear no sound proceeding from his lips. I cried out in alarm. The keeper of the booth saw that something was wrong, and came and looked curiously into his face. He lifted up my father’s hand. It fell like lead by his side.

“Why won’t father speak to me?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“He’ll never speak again! Your father’s dead, lad,” answered the man in a tone of commiseration.

With what oppressive heaviness did those words strike on my young heart, though at that time I did not fully comprehend the extent of my loss,—that I should never again hear the tone of his voice—that we were for ever parted in this world—that I was an orphan, without a human being to care for me. But though bewildered and confused at that awful moment, the words he had uttered as we left home rung strangely in my ears—“Lad, I’ll show you what life is.” Too truly did he show me what death was. Often and often have I since seen the same promise fulfilled in a similar fearful way. What men call life is a certain road to death; death of the body, death of the soul. Of course I did not understand this truth in those days; not indeed till long, long afterwards, when I had gone through much pain and suffering, and had been well-nigh worn-out. I was then very ignorant and very simple, and I should probably have been vicious also had not my mother watchfully kept me out of the way of bad example; and even after she was taken from me, I was prevented from associating with bad companions.

When I found that my poor father was really dead, I stood wringing my hands and crying bitterly. The sounds of my grief attracted many of the passers-by; some stopped to inquire its cause, and when they had satisfied their curiosity they went their way. At last several seamen, with an independent air, came rolling up near the tent. The leader of the party was one of the tallest men I ever saw. Though he stooped slightly as he walked, his head towered above all the rest of the crowd.

“What’s the matter with the young squeaker there, mate?” he asked in a bantering tone, thinking probably that I had broken a toy, or lost a lump of gingerbread from my pocket.

“His daddy’s dead, and he’s no one to look after him!” shouted an urchin from the crowd of bystanders.

“He’s in a bad case then,” replied the seaman, coming up to me. “What, lad! is it true that you have no friends?” he asked, stooping down and taking me by the hand.

“No one but father, and he lies there!” I answered, giving way to a fresh burst of grief as I pointed to my parent’s corpse.

“He speaks the truth,” observed the man of the booth; “he has no mother, nor kith nor kin that I know of, and must starve if no one takes charge of him, I suspect.”

The tall sailor looked at me with an expression of countenance which at once gained my confidence. “What say you, lad, will you come with us?” he asked, pointing to his companions; “we’ll take you to sea, and make a man of you!”

“We may get him entered aboard the Rainbow, I think, mates,” he added, addressing them. “He’ll do as well as the monkey we lost overboard during the last gale; and though he may be as mischievous now, he will learn better manners, which Jocko hadn’t the sense to do.”

“Oh ay! Bear him along with us,” replied the other sea men; “he’ll be better afloat, whichever way the wind blows, than starving on shore.”

“Come along, youngster, then,” said the tall seaman; and, without waiting for my reply, he seized me by the arm, and began to move off with me through the crowd.

“But what will be done with poor father? Sure I cannot leave him now!” I exclaimed, looking back with anguish at my father’s corpse.

“Oh, we’ll see all about that,” answered my new friend; “he shall be waked in proper style, and have a decent funeral; so you may leave home with a clear conscience. Never fear!”

I need not dwell longer on the events of that sad day. Aided by some of the men who knew my father, and who returned to the tent after the fray was over, the kind-hearted seamen bore the corpse to our cottage. The promise of a supply of whisky easily induced some of the neighbours to come and howl during the livelong night. This they did with right good will, although my father was a Protestant and a foreigner; and I cried and howled in sympathy. I would fain, however, have forgotten my grief in sleep. The seamen had taken their departure, promising to return to look after me.

As there was no chance of a man with a fractured skull coming to life again, the funeral speedily took place. The small quantity of furniture remaining in the cottage was sold; but the proceeds were barely sufficient to pay the expenses.

Thus I was left, with the exception of a suit of somewhat ragged clothes on my back, as naked and poor as when I came into the world about twelve years before, with a much more expensive appetite than I then had to supply. Some boys at that age are well able to take care of themselves, but, as I have said, I was small for my years, and I had been kept by my poor mother so much by myself, that I knew nothing of the world and its ways.

Alter the funeral a compassionate neighbour, with a dozen or more children of her own to feed, took me to her house till it was settled what was to become of me. She and her husband laughed at the idea of the tall sailor coming to take me away.

“I know what sailors are,” said the husband; “they’ll just chuck a handful of silver to the first beggar who asks them for it, and then they’ll go away and forget all about it! Maybe your friend was only after joking with you, and is off to sea long ago!”

“Oh no! he meant what he said,” I replied; “I know that by the look of his face. He’s a kind man, I’m certain!”

“It may be better for us all if he comes, but it’s not very likely,” was the answer. Still I trusted that my new friend would not deceive me.

I was standing in front of the cottage which was next to that my father and I had inhabited, when my heart beat quick at seeing a tall figure turn a corner at the other end of the street. I was certain it was my sailor friend. “It’s him! It’s him! I knew he’d come!” I shouted, and ran forward to meet him.

He smiled as he saw my eagerness. “You’ve not forgotten me, I see, lad,” said he; “well, come along. It’s all arranged; and if you’re in the same mind, you’ve only to say so, and we’ll enter you aboard the Rainbow!”

I told the tall sailor that I was ready to go wherever he liked to take me. This seemed to please him. After I had wished the neighbours, who had been so kind to me, good-bye, he took me by the hand, and led me rapidly along in the direction of the docks. Before reaching them, we entered a house where some old gentlemen were sitting at a table. One of them asked me if I wished to go to sea and become an admiral. I replied, “Yes, surely,” though I did not know what being an admiral meant; and on this the other old gentlemen laughed, and the first wrote something on a paper, which he handed across the table.

On this a sunburnt fine-looking man stepped forward and wrote on the paper, and I was then told that I was bound apprentice to Captain Helfrich, of the Rainbow brig. The fine-looking man was, I found, Captain Helfrich. “Well, that matter is squared now!” exclaimed the tall sailor; “so, youngster, we’ll aboard at once, before either you or I get into mischief.”

On our way to the brig, we stopped at a slop clothes-shop. “Here, Mr Levi! I want an outfit for this youngster,” said my friend, taking me in. “Let his duds be big enough, that he may have room to grow in them. Good food and sea air will soon make him sprout like a young cabbage.”

The order was literally fulfilled, and I speedily found myself the possessor of a new suit of sailors’ clothes, of two spare shirts, and sundry other articles of dress. My friend made me put them on at once.

“Now, do the old ones up in that handkerchief,” said he; “we’ll find a use for them before long.”

The spare new things he did up into a bundle, and carried it himself.

“I did not want the Jew to get your old clothes, for which he would have allowed nothing,” said he, as we left the shop. “We shall soon fall in with a little ragged fellow, to whom they’ll be a rich prize.”

As we went along, two or three boys begged of us, and pointed to their rags as a plea for their begging. “They’ll not do,” said he; “the better clothes would ruin them.”

At last, passing along the quays, we saw a little fellow sitting on the stock of an anchor, and looking very miserable. He had no shoes on his feet; his trousers were almost legless, and fastened up over one shoulder by a piece of string, while his arms were thrust into the sleeves of an old coat, much too large for him, and patched and torn again in all directions. He did not beg, but just looked up into my tall friend’s face, as if he saw something pleasing there.

“What do you want?” said the sailor.

“Nothing,” answered the boy, not understanding him.

“You’re well off then, lad,” said the tall sailor, smiling at him. “But I think that you would be the better for some few things in this world—for a suit of clothes, for instance.”

“The very things I do want!” exclaimed the lad. “You’ve hit it, your honour. I’d a dacent suit as ever you’d wish to see, and they were run away with, just as I’d got the office of an errand-boy with a gentleman, and was in a fair way to make my fortune.”

“Well, then, here’s a suit for you, my lad,” said the sailor; “just get your mother to give them a darning up, and they’ll serve your purpose, I daresay. Give him your bundle.”

“Sure your honour isn’t joking with me!” exclaimed the lad, his countenance beaming with pleasure as he undid the bundle of clothes, which were certainly very far better than those he had on. “I’m a made man—that I am! Blessings on your honour, and the young master there!”

“You’re welcome, lad, with all my heart,” answered my friend.

“Oh, it’s Terence McSwiney will have to thank you to the end of his days, and ever after!” exclaimed the boy, as we were walking on.

“Well, Terence, I hope you’ll get the post, and do your duty in it,” said the tall sailor, moving off to avoid listening to the expressions of gratitude which the lad poured forth.

The incident made a deep impression on me. I learned by it that others might be worse off than I was, and also that a gift at the right time might be of the greatest service. Of this I had the proof many years afterwards. If the rich and the well-to-do did but know of what use their own or their children’s cast-off clothes would be to many not only among the labouring classes, but to people of education and refinement, struggling with poverty, they would not carelessly throw them away, or let them get into the hands of Jews, sold by their servants for a sixth of their value. I must observe that, in the course of my narrative I shall often make remarks on various ideas which, at the time I speak of, could not possibly have occurred to me.

The tall sailor and I walked along the quay. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I did not know his name. I looked up in his face and asked him.

“I’m called Peter Poplar,” he answered, with one of his kind smiles. “The name suits me, and I suit the name; so I do not quarrel with it. You’ll have to learn the names, pretty quickly too, of all the people on board. There are a good many of us, and each and every one of them will consider himself your master, and you’ll have to look out to please them all.”

“I’ll do my best to please them, Mr Poplar,” said I.

“That’s right! But I say, lad, don’t address me so. Call me plain Peter, or Peter Poplar; we don’t deal in misters aboard the Rainbow. It is all very well for shore-going people to call each other mister; or when you speak to an officer, just to show that he is an officer; but sharp’s the word with us forward—we haven’t time for compliments.”

“But I thought you were an officer, Peter,” said I. “You look like one.”

“Do I?” he answered, with his pleasant smile. “Well, Jack, perhaps I ought to have been one, and it’s my own fault that I am not. But the truth is, I haven’t got the learning necessary for it. I never have learned to read, and so I haven’t been able to master navigation. Without it, you know, a man cannot be an officer, however good a seaman he may be; and in that point I’ll yield to no man.”

Peter, as he spoke, drew himself up to his full height, and I thought he looked fit to be a very great officer indeed; even to be an admiral, such as the old gentleman in the office had spoken of.

“I am very bad at my books too,” said I. “I can just read a little though, and if I can get the chance of falling in with a book, I’ll like to read to you, Peter.”

My friend thanked me, but said books were not often seen aboard the Rainbow; nor were they found in many other merchant-craft, for that matter, in those days.

We found the brig just ready to haul out into the outer basin, preparatory to putting to sea. She was a fine large craft, and had been built for a privateer in the war-time. Her heavy guns had been landed, but she still carried some eight six-pounders; and as she had a strong crew of fully twenty men, she was well able to defend herself from any piratical craft, or other gentry of that description.

When Peter first took me on board, some of the seamen would scarcely believe I was the same little boy they had seen at the fair, I looked so much stouter and stronger in my seaman’s dress. I did not much like the look of the forepeak, into which Peter introduced me, telling me that it was to be my house and home for the next few years of my life. I had been accustomed to the dingy obscurity of an Irish cabin, but never had I been, I thought, in a more dark and gloomy habitation than this.

“Never fear, Jack, you’ll soon find yourself at home here,” said Peter, divining my thoughts. While he was speaking, a seaman lighted a lantern which hung from a beam, and its glare showed me that the place was more roomy than I had supposed, and that every part of it was perfectly clean. I found, indeed, afterwards, that it was very superior to the places merchant-seamen are compelled often to live in. Some of the crew slept in standing bed-places ranged round the sides of the vessel, or rather inside her bows, while for others hammocks were slung from the beams which supported the deck. The chests were arranged to serve as seats, while there was a rack for the plates and mugs belonging to their mess.

The greater part of the crew was still on shore. “Now, Jack, that you know the sort of place we have to live in, I’ll show you the accommodation prepared for the captain and his passengers. It must not make you envious any more than it does me, for I think that those who have learning and education should enjoy advantages in proportion. I feel that it is my own fault that I do not live in as fine a cabin as the captain does.”

Even though Peter had thus prepared me to see something very fine, the richness of the cabin fittings and furniture surpassed anything I had in my simplicity imagined to exist. Perhaps those accustomed to such things might not have thought it so very great. I know that there were damask curtains, and coverings to the sofas, and mirrors, and pictures in gold frames, and mahogany tables and chairs, and cut-glass decanters, and china in racks, and a number of pistols and muskets and cutlasses, all burnished and shining, fixed against a bulkhead.

“Why, this is a place fit for a king,” I exclaimed; “sure he can’t have anything grander.”

Peter laughed. “The captain prides himself on being very natty, and having everything in good order,” said he; “but kings, I fancy, live in finer places than this. However, my reason for bringing you here was to show you the place, that you may know how to behave yourself should you be sent for to attend on the captain. You must obey him quickly, try and understand his wishes, and keep things clean and in their places. If you do this, you are certain to please him.”

Thus it was that my friend kindly tried to prepare me for my new career. “Now, Jack,” said he at last, “I’ve done my best to set you on your legs. You must try to walk alone. I don’t want to make a nursing baby of you, remember.” From that day forward Peter left me very much to take care of myself. Still I felt that his eye was watching over me, and this feeling gave me a considerable amount of confidence which I should not otherwise have possessed.

By the next day at noon, the rest of the crew had assembled; the captain and several passengers, mostly merchants and planters, came on board. There was a fair wind blowing down the Liffey. “Open the dock-gates, Mr Thompson, and let her go. She’ll find her own way to Jamaica and back again by herself, without a hand at the helm, she knows it so well,” the captain, as he stood on the poop, sung out to the dock-master. I found that this was a standing joke of his.

The Rainbow was a regular West India trader, and had had many successful voyages there. Captain Helfrich was chief owner as well as master, and was a great favourite with the merchants and planters at the different islands at which he was in the habit of touching, and consequently had always plenty of passengers, and never had to wait long for freight. He was very proud of his brig, and of everything connected with her. He himself also was a person not a little worthy of note. He was, as I have said, a tall, fine man, robust and upright in figure, with large, handsome features, and teeth of pearly whiteness. He was probably at this time rather more than forty years old, but not a particle of his crisp, curly, brown hair had a silvery tint. He had a fine beaming smile, though he was very firm and determined, and could look very fierce when angry. I had an unbounded respect for him. Thus commanded, and with as good a crew as ever manned a ship, the Rainbow dropped down the Liffey, and made sail to the southward; and under these propitious circumstances I found myself fairly launched in my career as a sailor.

Chapter Two.

The Bitters and Sweets of a Sea-Life.

“And so, Jack, you like a sea-life, do you?” said Peter Poplar to me one day after we had been about two weeks from port. We had had very fine weather all the time, with a north or easterly wind, and I expected to find the ocean always as smooth and pleasant as it then was. One good result was, that I had been able to pick up a good many of the details of my duty, which I should not have done had I been sea-sick, and knocked about in a gale.

“Yes, thanks to you, Peter, I like it much better than running errands on shore,” I answered. “I don’t wish for a pleasanter life.”

Peter laughed. “You’ve had only the sweets as yet, boy; the bitters are to come,” he observed. “Still, if you get a fair share of the first, you’ll have no reason to complain.”

I did not quite understand him. I then only thought of the sweets, as he called them. The truth was, I had generally been very kindly treated on board. To be sure, I got a kick, or the taste of a rope’s end, now and then, from some of the men if they happened to be out of humour; but those were trifles, as I never was much hurt, and Peter told me I was fortunate to get nothing worse. There was one ill-conditioned fellow, Barney Bogle by name, who lost no opportunity of giving me a cuff for the merest trifle, if he could do so without being seen by Peter, of whom he was mortally afraid. In his presence, the bully always kept his hands off me. Of course it would not have been wise in me to complain of Barney to Peter, as it might have caused a quarrel; so I contented myself with doing my best to keep out of my enemy’s way, just as a cat does out of the way of a dog which has taken a fancy to worry her. Captain Helfrich had hitherto taken no notice whatever of me, and he seemed to me so awful a person, that I never expected to be spoken to by him. Now and then the mates ordered me to do some little job or other, to fetch a swab or a marlinespike, or to hold a paint-pot, but they in no other way noticed me.

I remember how blue the sky was, and how sparkling the sea, and how hot the sun at noon shone down on our heads, and how brightly the moon floated above us at night, and formed a long, long stream of silvery light across the waters; and I used to fancy, as I stood looking at it, that I could hear voices calling to me from far, far-off, and telling me of my sweet, calm-eyed mother, still remembered fondly, and of my poor father, snatched from me so suddenly. I won’t talk much about that sort of thing. It seems now like a long-forgotten dream—I believe that, even then, I was dreaming.

Well, as I said, the fine weather continued for a long time, till I was awoken one morning by a loud, roaring, dashing, creaking sound, or rather, I might say, of a mixture of such sounds; and as I began to rub my eyes, I thought that I should have been hove out of the narrow crib in which I was stowed away in the very bows of the vessel. Sometimes I felt the head of the brig lifted up, and then down it came like a sledge-hammer into the water; now I felt myself rolled on one side, now on the other. I fully thought that the vessel must be on the rocks. Not a gleam of light reached me, nor could I hear the sound of a human voice. I wanted to be out of the place; but when I tried to get up, I felt so sick and wretched, that I lay down again with an idea that it would be more comfortable to die where I was. At last, however, Barney Bogle came below and discovered me.

“Turn out, you young skulker; turn out!” he exclaimed, belabouring me with a rope’s end. “Didn’t you hear all hands called to shorten sail an hour ago?”

I had no help for it, so on deck I crawled, where the grey light of morning was streaming from beneath a dark mass of clouds which hung overhead, and a gale was blowing which sent the foam flying from the tops of the seas, deluging us fore and aft. Now the brig was lifted up to the summit of a wave, and now down she sank into the trough of the sea, with a liquid wall on one side which, as it came curling on, looked as if it must inevitably overwhelm her. She was under close-reefed topsails and storm-jib, and two of the best hands were at the helm. Peter was one of them. I managed to climb up to windward, and to hold on by the weather-fore-rigging, where the rest of the crew were collected.

I shall never forget the dark, dreary, and terrific scene which the ocean presented to my unaccustomed sight. At first, too, I felt very sick and miserable, and I thought that I would far rather have been starving on shore than going to be drowned, as I fancied, and being tossed about by the rough ocean. Barney, who was on deck before me, abused me as I crawled up near him, and contrived to give me a kick, which, had I let go my hold, as it was calculated to make me do, would probably have been the cause of my immediate destruction. At that moment a huge sea came rolling up towards the brig, topping high above our deck. I saw Peter Poplar and the other man at the helm looking out anxiously at it. They grasped tighter hold of the spokes of the wheel, and planted their feet firmer on the deck. Captain Helfrich and his mates were standing by the main-rigging.

“Hold on, hold on for your lives, my men!” he sung out. The crew did not neglect to obey him, and I clung to a rope like a monkey. Most of the passengers were below, sick in their berths. Down came the huge sea upon us like the wall of a city overwhelming its inhabitants. Over our deck it rushed with terrific force. I thought to a certainty that we were sinking. What a horrible noise there was!—wrenching and tearing, and the roar and dashing sound of the waves, and the howling of the wind! All contributed to confuse my senses, so that I forgot altogether where I was. I had an idea, I believe, that the end of the world was come. Still my shipmates did not shriek out, and I was very much surprised to find the brig rise again out of the water, and to see them standing where they were before, employed in shaking the wet off their jackets. The deck of the brig, however, presented a scene of no little confusion and havoc. Part of her weather-bulwarks forward had been stove in, the long-boat on the booms had been almost knocked to pieces, and a considerable portion of the after-part of the lee-bulwarks had been washed away, showing the course the sea had taken over us.

“We must not allow that trick to be played us again,” said the captain to the mates. I had crept as far aft as I dared go, for I did not like the look of the sea through the broken bulwark, so I could hear him. “Stand by to heave the ship to!” he shouted, and his voice was easily heard above the sounds of the tempest. “Down with the helm!—In with the jib!—Hand the maintopsail!” The officers and men, who were at their stations, flew to obey their orders. I trembled as I saw the third mate, with several other men, taking in the jib. Having let go the halliards, and eased off the sheets, hauling away on the down-hauler; and having got it down on the bowsprit-cap, though nearly blown out of the bolt-ropes, stowing it away in the foretopmast staysail-netting. As the bows of the brig now rose and now plunged into the trough of the sea, I thought they must have been, to a certainty, washed away. The maintopsail was, in the meantime, taken in, and I felt that I was very glad I was not obliged to lay-out on the yard with the other men. It seemed a wonder how they were not shaken off into the sea, or carried away by the bulging sail. The great thing in taking in a sail in a gale, as I now learned from Peter, is not to allow the sail to shake, or it is very likely to split to pieces. Keep it steadily full, and it will bear a great strain. Accordingly, the clew-lines, down-haul-tackle, and weather-brace being manned, the halliards were let go, the weather-brace hauled in, the weather-sheet started and clewed up; then the bowline and lee-sheets being let go, the sail caught aback, and the men springing on the yard, grasped it in their arms as they hung over it. Folding it in inch by inch, they at length mastered the seeming resistless monster, and passing the gaskets round it, secured it to the yard. Those who for the first time see a topsail furled in a heavy gale may well deem it a terrific operation, and perilous in the extreme to those employed in it. I know that I breathed more freely when all the men came down safely from the yard, Barney Bogle among the number; and the helm being lashed a-lee, the brig rode like a duck over the seas.

There was no time, however, to be idle, and all hands set to work to repair damages. I now saw that the captain, who appeared so fine a gentleman in harbour, or when there was nothing to do, could work as well, if not rather better, than any one. With his coat off, and saw, axe, or hammer in hand, he worked away with the carpenter in fitting a new rail, and planking up the bulwarks; and the steward had twice to call him to breakfast before he obeyed the summons. His example inspired the rest; and in a very short time the bulwarks were made sufficiently secure to serve till the return of fine weather.

“I told you, Jack, that you would have a taste of the bitters of a sea-life before long,” said Peter, as soon as he had time to have a word with me. “Let me tell you, however, that this is just nothing, and that we shall be very fortunate if we do not fall in with something much worse before long.”

I knew that Peter would not unnecessarily alarm me, and so I looked up at the dark clouds driving across the sky, and saw the hissing, foaming waves dancing up wildly around us, looking as if every moment they were ready to swallow up the brig, I asked myself what worse could occur, without our going to the bottom. I had never then been in a regular hurricane or a typhoon, or on a lee-shore on a dark night, surrounded by rocks, or among rapid currents, hurrying the ship within their power to destruction; nor had I been on board a craft when all hands at the pumps could scarcely keep her afloat; nor had I seen a fire raging. Indeed, I happily knew nothing of the numberless dangers and hardships to which a seaman in his career is exposed. I must not say that I was in any way frightened. I resolved to keep a bold heart in my body. “Never mind,” I answered to Peter’s remark; “while I’ve got you and the captain on board, I don’t fear anything.”

Peter laughed. “We may be very well in our way,” said he; “but, Jack, my advice is: Trust in God, and hold on by the weather-rigging. Should the ship go down, look out for spar or a plank if there’s no boat afloat; and if you can find nothing, swim as long as you can; but whatever you do, trust in God.”

I have never forgotten Peter’s advice. Never have I found that trust deceive me; and often and often have I been mercifully preserved when I had every reason to believe that my last hour had come. I should remark also that, badly off as I have often fancied myself, I have soon had reason to be thankful that I was not in the condition of others around me.

While Peter was speaking, one of the crew sung out, “a sail on the weather-bow!” Sure enough, as we rose on the summit of a sea, a ship could be seen with all her topsails set running before the wind. Peter remarked that she was standing directly for us. “She is a large ship, by the squareness of her yards; probably either from the West Indies or South America, or maybe China, or from some port in the Pacific, and she has come round the Horn.”

We watched her for some time. “She has a signal of distress flying, sir,” said the first mate, who had been looking at her through a glass.

“She is in a bad way, then,” remarked the captain. “I fear that unless the sea goes down, and she in the meantime can heave-to near us, we can render her no assistance.”

On came the ship right for us. I thought that she would run us down; so, indeed, I found did others on board. The mates, indeed, went to the wheel to put the helm up to let the brig fall off, that we might get out of her way; but as she approached, she altered her course a little, so that she might pass clear under our stem. Never shall I forget the look of that strange ship; for, as she came near us, rolling in the trough of the sea, we could see clearly everything going forward on her decks.

She was a Spaniard, so Peter told me, as he knew from the ensign which flew out, hoisted half-way to her peak. She was a high-pooped ship, with a deep waist and a lofty forecastle, her upper works narrowing as they rose, with large lanterns, and much rich carved work all gilt and painted. Such a craft is never seen now-a-days.

She was crowded with people. Some were soldiers, worn-out men, with their wives and families returning home from the colonies; others were cabin passengers. There were rich Hidalgos, attended on by their slaves—old men, who had spent their lives abroad in the pursuit of wealth; and there were fair girls, too, probably their daughters, some young and lovely; and there were young men, with life before them, and thinking that life was to be very sweet; and there were children, and infants in arms, and their fond mothers or nurses anxious to shelter them from harm. Then there were the officers of the ship and the crew; fierce, dark-bearded men—a mongrel set of various ranks and many nations. She was evidently a rich galleon, returning to old Spain from one of her ill-governed dependencies in South America. But it was the way in which all these people were employed that made so deep an impression on me. Then the scene looked only like a strange picture. It was not till long afterwards, when I reasoned on what I had observed, that I understood what I now describe.

The greater number of the men were at the pumps, labouring in a way which showed that they fancied their lives depended on their exertions; but the clear streams of water which came out of the scuppers, and the heavy way in which the ship plunged into the trough of the sea, showed that their labour would too probably be in vain. Others seemed paralysed or pitied, and sat down with their heads on their breasts waiting their fate. Many, as they passed us, came to the side of their ship, and held out their hands imploringly towards us, as if we could help them. But what seemed most dreadful—some of the sailors and soldiers had got hold of a quantity of wine and spirits, and were reeling about the decks, offering liquor to every one they encountered, and holding out bottles and cans of wine mockingly at us, or as if inviting us to join them. Several, although they must have given up all hope of assistance from man, might have looked for it from Heaven, for they were on their knees imploring help—was it from Him who alone can give it, or was it from their various saints? I don’t know.

Two groups of figures on the poop especially struck me. In the centre of one stood a tall man in rich vestments of gold, and white, and purple. He had a shorn crown. He was a priest. He was holding aloft a golden crucifix, which I thought the wind would have blown out of his hand, but he must have been a powerful man, and he grasped it fast. Assisting to support him and it were two monks in dark dresses, kneeling on the deck on either side of him. Around them knelt and clung, holding on to each other, a number of men and women, and among them were some little children, holding up their tiny hands in supplication towards the crucifix. Of course, no sound could reach us, but there seemed to be much wailing, and crying, and groaning. Some were stretching out their arms, others were beating their breasts and tearing their hair. The priest stood unmoved, with head erect, uttering prayers, or pronouncing absolution. At some distance from them were a couple, not to be overlooked either. One was a fine handsome young man, in the uniform of a military officer; the other a young and beautiful girl, who lay nearly fainting in his arms. He looked towards us eagerly, hopefully, as if he fancied that he would plunge with his precious charge into the water. I thought that at that moment he was going to make the daring leap. Some of the officers of the ship were gathered round the wheel. Just then the helm was put down, and we saw some of them with blows and threats urging the drunken crew to take in the headsails, leaving the maintopsail only to steady the ship. In the operation, however, carelessly performed, the sails were blown to ribbons, and the ship drifted away to leeward of us. She had before this evidently suffered severely. Her boats were gone; her bulwarks in many places stove in; and her bowsprit and foretopmast had been carried away, while, of course, still more serious damage had been sustained in her hull.

“Shall we be able to do anything for all those poor people?” I asked of Peter, who stood near me.

“No, Jack, we shall not,” he answered; “man can’t help them. This ship, by the look of her, will not keep above water another half-hour; and then Heaven have mercy on their souls! I doubt if the captain will venture to lower a boat in this sea to attempt to save them, or if a boat could lift if he did.”

“It’s very dreadful,” said I.

“Yes, Jack; but it’s the lot all sailors must be prepared for,” answered Peter. “Remember, it may be my fate or yours one of these days. We should not be afraid; but I repeat it, Jack, we should be prepared.” I did not quite understand Peter then.

“Then, Peter, you would not go in the boat if one was lowered?” I observed.

“Wait till the captain says what he wants done,” he answered calmly. “If he thinks a boat can live, and wants volunteers, it’s my duty to go, you know. Remember, Jack, obey first, and calculate risk afterwards.”

Peter’s predictions as to the fate of the Spanish ship were fulfilled sooner even than he had expected. That moment, while we were looking at her, she settled lower and lower in the water; she rolled still more heavily; her bow looked as if about to rise, but instead her stem lifted high—up it went. There seemed a chasm yawning for her. Into it she plunged, and down, down she went—the waves wildly rushing over her decks, and scattering the shrieking multitude assembled on them far and wide over the foaming ocean; mothers, children, husbands, wives, lovers, and friends, the priests and their disciples, were rudely torn asunder, and sent hither and thither. Numbers went down in the vortex of the huge ship—the men at the pumps, the drunken seamen, some who had clung madly to the rigging. Others supported themselves on anything which could float; and brave swimmers struck out for dear life.

“I can’t stand this,” cried our captain, unconscious that he was speaking aloud; “we must try at all risks to save the poor wretches.”

“I’ll go,” cried the second mate, Harry Gale, a fine, quiet, gentleman-reared young man as ever I met.

“I’m one with you, Mr Gale,” cried Peter Poplar, springing aft to the falls of the lee-quarter-boat, the only one which could be lowered. “Bear a hand here, mates; there’ll no time to be lost!”

“Hold fast!” shouted the captain. “No hurry, my men; those who go clear the boat. The mates will stand by the falls with Jackson and Farr. All ready now!—Lower away!”

The captain gave the word, so that the boat touched the water just at the best time. Peter Poplar stood in the bows, boat-hook in hand, and moved off; Mr Gale steered; the three other men were the strongest of the ship’s company; and truly it required all the care and seamanship mortal man could possess to keep a boat alive in such a boiling caldron as the wide Atlantic then was. I was very anxious for Peter’s safety, for he was indeed my friend. I feared also for the rest. I was fully alive to the danger of the expedition they were on.

The boat, keeping under the lee of the brig, dropped down towards the scene of the catastrophe. So fiercely boiling, however, were the waves, that with awful rapidity the greater number of those who had lately peopled the deck of that big ship were now engulfed beneath them. Some, however, still struggled for existence.

Had the sea been less violent many might have been saved; for as we stood on the deck we could see the poor wretches struggling among the foam, but by the time the boat reached the spot they had sunk for ever.

The captain had gone into the main-rigging, and with his outstretched arm was indicating to the second mate the direction in which to steer; but of course she could venture to go very little out of one particular direction without a certainty of being swamped. It was very dreadful to watch one human being after another engulfed in the hungry ocean. We have just to picture to ourselves how we should be feeling if we were in their places, to make us eager to save those under like circumstances.

The most conspicuous object was the tall priest, and towards him the boat was accordingly making her way. Two other figures were at the same time seen. One floated only a short distance to leeward of the brig; it was that, I felt certain, of the beautiful girl I had seen supported by the young officer. She was unconscious of all around, and I believe that even then life had left her frame. She was supported by a piece of plank, to which probably she had been secured with the last fond effort of affection by him who had thus been unable to provide any means of escape for himself. He, however, must have struggled bravely for existence, for I made him out at a short distance beyond, now rising on the crest of a wave, now sinking into the trough of the sea, but still swimming on with his eye gazing steadily in the direction of that floating form.

Meantime the boat was making towards the priest. “Give way, lads!” shouted several of our people in their eagerness, forgetting that they could not possibly be heard. No time was to be lost, for already the priest’s rich dress was saturated with water, and he was sinking lower and lower, and what at first had supported him was now dragging him down. Still he did not give in, but, cross in hand, waved the boat on. The distance he was from the boat must have been greater than we supposed. Suddenly he threw up his arms, and a white-crested top of a sea breaking over him, he disappeared for ever amidst a mass of foam.

Mr Gale saw what had occurred, and instantly turned the boat’s head towards the young officer, who was still swimming on with wonderful strength. In this instance the men were more successful; the boat’s head dropped down close to him, and Peter, stretching out his arm, grasped the young man by the shoulder, and hauled him in over the bows, and passed him on into the stern-sheets. Though faint at first, the Spaniard instantly recovered himself, and stood upright in the boat, gazing eagerly around. As the boat rose on a sea, he caught sight of the object of his search. He pointed towards the floating form of the young lady. Even when first seen, the line by which she had been hurriedly and imperfectly secured to the plank I observed was loosened. The wash of the sea now parted her from it entirely. The young man saw what had occurred. With a cry of anguish, before our people could seize him, he sprang from the gunwale towards the object of his love, as her dress carried her down beneath the foaming waters. I think he reached her. They disappeared at the same moment, and never rose again!

Still a few people kept above water, holding on to planks, or swimming, chiefly seamen or soldiers; but most of them had been carried to too great a distance from the brig for a boat to save them. It was only by keeping under our lee, our hull preventing the sea from breaking so much, that the boat avoided being swamped. Thus we could expect that only a very few of those who floated to the last could be saved. No one could have ventured further than did our brave mate and his crew;—they would in all probability have thrown away their own lives had not Captain Helfrich recalled them. He signalled with his hand, but Mr Gale did not observe him. “Fire a gun there,” he shouted; “quick, for your lives!” A gun had been ready loaded for the purpose. Its report served as the funeral knell of many a despairing wretch.

The boat put about. The returning alongside was as perilous an operation almost as the lowering the boat had been. All hands not required at the falls stood ready with ropes to heave to our shipmates should she be swamped alongside; but the oars being thrown in, Mr Gale and Peter seizing the fall-tackles at the right moment, hooked on, and the rest of the people handing themselves up by the ropes hanging ready for them, the boat was hoisted up before the sea again rose under her bottom. It was sad to think: that all their gallant efforts had been unavailing. In two or three minutes more not a human being of all the Spaniard’s crew was to be seen alive; and except a few planks and spars, and here and there a bale or a chest, mere dots in the ocean, we might have fancied, as we looked out on those foaming waters, that all that had passed was some hideous dream. Often, indeed, have I since had the same dreadful drama acted over before my eyes while I slept; so deep was the impression made on me by the reality. Very many things which long after that time occurred have entirely faded from my memory.

Had it been possible, (as Peter told me he thought it would have been, had all the crew done their duty), to keep the galleon afloat a few hours longer, in all probability we should have been the means of saving the people. In the course of the day the wind fell, and the sea went down sufficiently to have allowed our boats to have passed between the two vessels without any great risk. Captain Helfrich was certainly not a man to have deserted her while a chance remained of saving a human being. While she floated he would have stuck to her. “Remember, Jack,” said Peter, “the first duty of a ship’s company is to stick by each other—to keep sober, and to obey their officers. Without a head, men can do nothing. They are like a flock of sheep running here and there, and never getting on. What is a man’s duty is best; and you see here, for instance, that the lives of all depend on their doing their duty.”

Sail was again made on the brig, and she was able to lay her course. At night, however, it came on to blow again, and by next morning we were once more hove-to with more sea, and the wind chopping about and making it break in a far more dangerous way than it had done on the previous day. I found, when I came on deck after my watch below, all hands looking out at an object which had just been discovered a little abaft the lee-bow. Some said it was a dead whale; one or two declared that it was a rock; but the officers, after examining it with their glasses, pronounced it to be a vessel bottom uppermost! The question was, whether the wreck was deserted, or whether any people still clung to it. Hove-to as we were, we made of course considerable lee-way; and keeping in the direction we were then driving, we should before long get near enough to examine her condition. Had not the brig already received some damage, Captain Helfrich would, I believe, have run down at once to the wreck; but this, a right care for the safety of his own vessel would not allow him to do. Every instant, too, the gale was increasing, till it blew a perfect hurricane; and not for a moment could a boat have lived had one been lowered. The wreck drove before the wind, but of course we moved much faster; it was some hours, however, before we got near enough to the wreck to discover if anyone was upon it.

“There are three or four people at least upon it,” exclaimed Mr Gale. “Poor fellows! can we do nothing for them, sir?”

“I cannot allow you to throw away your life, as you would if you had your own way,” answered the captain, to whom he spoke. “All we can do is to hope that the wind will go down before we drift out of sight of each other.”

Unhappily our course took us some way from the wreck, though near enough to see clearly the poor fellows on it. How intense must have been their feelings of anxiety as they saw us approaching them! and how bitter their disappointment when they discovered how impossible it was for us to render them any assistance till the weather moderated!

The wreck appeared to be that of a schooner, or brig of a hundred and fifty tons or so. The people were holding on to her keel. There were three white men and two blacks. They waved their handkerchiefs and caps, and held out their hands imploringly towards us. Some were sitting astride on the keel; one was lying down, held on by his shipmates; and another lay right over it looking almost dead. We made out this through the glasses. Peter got me a look through a telescope which one of the men had. It brought the countenances of the poor fellows fearfully near—their expressions of horror and despair could be seen. We longed more than ever for the gale to abate that we might help them. Still it blew on as fiercely as ever all day. The wreck remained during this time in sight, but of course we were increasing our distance from her.

“What would have happened,” said I to Peter, “if it had been night instead of day; and if, instead of passing by the wreck, we had struck against her?”

“Why, we should have given her a finishing-stroke, and very likely have stove in our bottom and followed her,” he answered. “I like to hear you ask such questions; they show that you think. The event you have spoken of occurs very frequently, I suspect. Numbers of vessels leave port, and are never again heard of. They are either run down, or they run their bows against a wreck, or the butt-end of a tree or log of timber; some are burned; some run against icebergs, or fields of ice; and some are ill put together, or rotten, and spring leaks, and so go down: but to my mind the greater number are lost from the first cause I have spoken of. You’ll find out in time, Jack, all the perils to which a seaman is exposed, as well as the hardships I once before spoke to you about.” I did not think at the time how true Peter’s words would come.

We were nearly a mile from the wreck, I suppose, when night came on; but the captain took her bearings by the compass, that he might know in what direction to look for her should he be able to make sail before the morning. I had got pretty well accustomed to the tumbling about by this time, but I could scarcely sleep for thinking of the poor fellows on the wreck. The night passed away without any change in the weather. When morning came all hands were looking out for the wreck; but we all looked in vain. There was the leaden sky, the dark-green foaming sea, but not a spot on it to be observed far as the eye could reach. Before noon the wind once more moderated, and making all sail we stood over the place where, by our captain’s calculations, the wreck would be found. Not a sign of her was to be seen. It was too certain that she must have gone down during the night.

Every day seemed to have its event. We were again on our proper course, though the sea was still running high, when towards evening an object was seen floating ahead of us, just on the lee-bow. We were at no great distance, little more than half a mile or so, when first seen, so that we were not left long in doubt as to what it was. “A raft!” said one; “A piece of a wreck,” said another; “Some casks,” said a third.

“Whatever it is, there is a man upon it,” exclaimed Peter; “and, messmates, he’s alive! Steady you,” he added, looking at the man at the wheel. “Keep her away a little,” he said, addressing Mr Gale, who had charge of the deck.

The news of what was seen at once spread below, and all hands were soon on deck on the look-out. The man was alive, and saw us coming, for he waved a handkerchief to attract our notice, lest he might not have been observed. We waved to him in return, to keep up his spirits. As we approached, we saw that the man was dressed as a sailor. He was seated on a grating, made more buoyant by several pieces of spars and planks. He was leaning against another plank, which he had secured in an upright position by means of stays on the grating. Had not the sea been still very high, we could have run alongside his raft and picked him off without difficulty; but as it was impossible to steer with the necessary nicety, there was a risk of running him down by so doing. We therefore hove-to to windward of him; and Mr Gale, with the boat’s crew who had before volunteered, being lowered, they pulled carefully towards him. The man stood up as he saw them approach; and scarcely had the bow of the boat touched the grating, than he sprung on board, and without help stepped over the shoulders of the men into the stern-sheets. When there, however, his strength seemed to give way, and he sank down into the bottom of the boat in what appeared to be a fainting fit. A few drops from a flask, which Mr Gale had thoughtfully carried in his pocket, partially revived the man, though he was unable to help himself up the side. He was therefore slung on deck, and the boat being hoisted in without damage, we again made sail.

The man, who was placed on deck with his back against the companion-hatch, remained some time in an almost unconscious state; but at length, after much care had been bestowed on him, he recovered sufficiently to speak. He was a fine, good-looking young man; and his well-browned countenance and hands showed that he had been long in a tropical climate. A little food, taken slowly, still further revived him; and he was soon able to lift himself up and look about him.

“How was it you came to be where we found you?” asked Captain Helfrich, who was seated near him on the companion-hatch, while I was employed in polishing up the brass rail of the companion-ladder.

“Why, I belonged to a ship, the Oak Tree, bound from Honduras to Bristol with mahogany and logwood,” answered the stranger. “We had made a fair run of it, three days ago, when we were caught in a heavy squall, which carried away our maintop-mast, and did us much damage. Fortunately, I was at supper when all hands were called to shorten sail; and not thinking what I was about, I clapped a whole handful of biscuit and junk into my pocket before I sprang on deck. A few hours after dark, a heavy sea struck the ship, and carried away our boats and bulwarks, washing me with one or two other poor fellows overboard. I was without my shoes, and had only a thin cotton jacket on; so, being a good swimmer, I was able to regain the surface, and to look about me. Away flew the ship before the wind, without a prospect of my being able to regain her; so I did not trouble myself upon that point. The other men who had been washed overboard with me had sunk: I could do them no good. I therefore had only to look after myself. I first cast my eyes about me, to see what I could get hold of to keep me afloat. The wreck of the bulwarks and boats, with the spars which had been washed overboard, had sent me some materials; and I got a couple of pieces under my arms to support me while I looked for more. In the heavy sea that was running, I could not have made much of a raft, when fortunately my eye caught a grating; which I managed, after much exertion, to reach. By degrees I fished up other pieces of plank and broken spars, till I had formed the raft you found me on. Fortunately, I had started on my cruise just after supper, so that I was able to hold out for some time without eating. But when morning came, and there was not a sail in sight, I began to feel somewhat down-hearted. However, I soon plucked up again. Said I to myself, ‘Though the ocean is wide, there are a good many craft afloat, and it will be hard if someone doesn’t make me out before very long.’ I tried to think of all the wonderful escapes people had made who had been in a similar condition; and I prayed that God would deliver me in the same way. One thing weighed on my mind, and still weighs there: I left a wife and a small child at home, near Bristol; and when the ship arrives there, the poor girl will hear that I was was washed overboard, and will believe me dead. When you got near me, I saw that you were outward-bound; and the thought that she might have to go many a month and not hear of me, served more than anything else to upset me. My strength gave way, and I went off in a faint, as you saw, in the bottom of the boat.” He then told the captain that his name was Walter Stenning. The captain, who was a kind-hearted man, did his best to raise his spirits; and promised him that if we fell in with a homeward-bound ship he would endeavour to put him on board.

As it happened, we did not speak any vessel till we reached the West Indies; so we had to carry Walter Stenning with us.

Chapter Three.

The West Indies.

“Land! land on the starboard-bow!” was shouted from the foretopmast cross-trees, where several of our men had been, in spite of a pretty hot scorching sun, since dawn, on the look-out for it.

“Who saw it first?” asked the captain, who was always more anxious when nearing the coast than at any other time.

“Tom Tillson,” was the answer from aloft.

“A glass of grog for you, Tom, if it proves to be the land, and you have kept your eyes open to good purpose!” said the captain, preparing himself to go to the mast-head, where the mates followed him.

They were satisfied that Tom had fairly won his glass of grog, I suppose; for, after some time, when I went aloft, I saw a high blue-pointed mountain rising out of the sparkling sea with ranges of lower hills beneath it.

As we drew in with the shore, we could distinguish the fields of sugar-cane surrounded by lime-trees, and the white houses of the planters, and the huts of the negroes; and I thought that I should very much like to take a run among the lofty palmetto and the wild cotton-trees and the fig-trees, and to chase the frolicsome monkeys I had heard spoken of among their branches. A light silvery mist hung over the whole scene, and made it look doubly beautiful. I asked Peter what land it was, for I thought that we had arrived at America itself. He laughed, and said that it was only a little island called Saint Christopher’s; and that he’d heard say that it was first discovered by the great admiral who had found out America, and that he had called it after his own name. Peter, though he could not read, had a great store of information, which he had picked up from various people. He was not always quite correct; and that was from not being able to read, as he was less able to judge of the truth of what people told him; but altogether, I learned a great deal from his conversation.

We came to an anchor before the town of Basseterre, the capital of the island. It was a clean handsome-looking place, and a number of ships lay before it; while behind it, rising from the wide valley, richly cultivated and beautiful in the extreme, rose the lofty and precipitous crags of Mount Misery, 3700 feet high. It may well be so-called, for it would be pain and misery to have to climb up it, and still greater not to be able to come down again!

After the events I have before described, we had come south till we fell in with the trade-winds, which had brought us on a due westerly course to this place. I did not go on shore; but I heard the captain say that the merchants and planters were very civil and polite to him. They had, however, suffered very much in the late war with France. It was in the year 1782 that a French general, the Marquis de Bouille, having eight thousand men with him, besides a fleet of twenty-nine sail of the line, commanded by the Admiral Count de Grasse, captured the island from the English. It was, however, restored to Great Britain when the war ended the following year.

We had a quantity of fruit brought off to us, which did most of us a great deal of good, after living so long on salt provisions. I remember how delicious I thought the shaddock—which is a fruit something like a very large orange. Its outer coat is pale, like a lemon, but very thick. It is divided into quarters by a thin skin, like an orange; and the taste—which is very refreshing—is between a sweet and an acid. The colour of the inside of some is a pale red—these are the best; others are white inside. Peter told me that he had heard that the tree was brought from the coast of Guinea by a Captain Shaddock, and that the fruit has ever since borne his name.

We spent three or four days at anchor before this beautiful place; and then, having landed two or three of our passengers, and put Walter Stenning on board a vessel returning to England, once more made sail for our destination. The trade-wind still favoured us, though it was much lighter than it had been before we entered the Caribbean Sea.

“Jack,” said Peter to me the afternoon we left Basseterre, “I’ve good news for you. The captain wants a lad in the place of Sam Dermot, whom he has left on board a homeward-bound ship, for he found that he was not fit for a sea-life, and Mr Gale has been speaking a word in your favour. I don’t say it’s likely to prove as pleasant a life as you lead forward, but if you do your duty and please him, the captain has the power to advance your interests—and I think he is the man to do it.”

This was good news, I thought; and soon afterwards Mr Gale told me to go into the cabin. The captain, who was looking over some papers, scarcely raised his head as I entered. “Oh, Jack Williams—is that your name, boy?” said he. “You are to help Roach, the steward. Go to him; he’ll show you what you are to do.” The steward soon gave me plenty of work cleaning up things; for the captain was a very particular man, and would always have everything in the best possible order.

The next morning at daybreak, Mr Gale—whose watch it was at the time—roused me up, and sent me to tell the captain that there was a strange sail on the starboard-bow, which seemed inclined to cross our fore-foot. The captain was soon on deck and examining the stranger with his glass.

“Well, what do you make of her, Mr Gale?” he asked. She was a low, little vessel, with considerable beam, and a large lateen mainsail, and a jib on a little cock-up bowsprit—something like a ’Mudian rig.

“She’s a suspicious-looking craft; and if it were not that we are well-armed, and could sink her with a broadside, I should not much like her neighbourhood, sir,” answered the second mate. As he spoke, a gun was fired by the stranger, but not at us.

“He wants to speak us, at all events,” observed Captain Helfrich. “If he had intended us mischief he would have fired at us, I should think.”

“Not quite so certain of that, sir,” answered Mr Jones, the first mate. “Those pirating fellows are up to all sorts of tricks; and if he’s honest he belies himself, for a more roguish craft I never saw. He doesn’t show any colours, at all events.”

“We’ll not be taken by surprise, then,” answered the captain. “Arm the people, and see the guns all ready to run out. Boy, get my pistols and cutlass from the steward. Tell him to show himself on deck; and let the gentlemen in the cabin know that if they get up, they may find something to amuse them.”

I dived speedily below to deliver my message. While the steward was getting ready the captain’s arms, I ran round to the berths of the passengers. One had heard me ask for the pistols; thus the report at once went round among them that there was fighting in prospect. In a few minutes, therefore, several gentlemen in straw-hats, with yellow nankeen trousers and gay dressing-gowns, appeared on deck.

“What!—is that little hooker the craft we are going to fight, captain?” exclaimed one of them. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty in trouncing her, I should think.”

“Not the slightest, sir, if we have the chance,” he answered. “But her crew would have no difficulty either in cutting all our throats, if we once let them get on board! The chances are that she has a hundred desperadoes or more under hatches, and as she can sail round us like a witch, they may choose their own time for coming alongside. I tell you, gentlemen, I would rather she were a hundred miles away than where she is!”

These remarks of the captain very much altered the manner of some of the gentlemen. They were all ready enough to fight, but they put on much more serious countenances than they had at first worn, and kept eyeing the stranger curiously through their telescopes. Still the stranger kept bowling away before us on our starboard-bow, yawing about so as not greatly to increase his distance from us. If he could thus outsail us before the wind, he would be very certain to beat us hollow on a wind. We had, therefore, not the slightest prospect of being able to get away from him so long as he chose to keep us company. Suddenly he luffed up with his head to the northward.

“He thinks that he had better not play us any tricks; he has found out that we are too strong for him,” observed Mr Jones. Scarcely had the mate spoken, when a dozen men or so appeared on the deck of the felucca, and launched a boat from it into the water. As soon as she was afloat, two people stepped into her. One seized the oars, and the other seated himself in the stern-sheets.

“Well, that is a rum-looking little figure!” I heard one of our passengers exclaim, bursting into a fit of laughter. “I wonder if he is skipper of that craft?”

“She’s not a craft that will stand much joking,” observed the first mate. “See, sir; she has begun to show that she is not lightly armed.”

He pointed to the deck of the felucca, on which there now appeared at least full thirty men. They looked like a fierce set of desperadoes. They were of all colours, from the fair skin of the Saxon to the ebony hue of some of the people of Africa. The captain saw, I suppose, that there was no use in trying to prevent the boat from coming alongside; for had he done so, the felucca would very quickly have been after us again, and might not another time have treated us so civilly. He therefore, as soon as the boat shoved off from the side of the felucca, ordered the sails to be clewed up, to allow her more easily to approach.

As she pulled towards us, we were able to examine the people in her. He who sat in the stern-sheets was a little old man, with a little three-cornered hat on his head, and a blue long-skirted coat and waistcoat, richly laced. He had on also, I afterwards saw, knee-breeches, and huge silver buckles to his shoes. His countenance seemed wizened and dried up like a piece of parchment. Some of the younger passengers especially seemed to think him, by their remarks, a fair subject for their ridicule. The person who pulled was a huge negro. He must have been as tall as Peter Poplar, but considerably stouter and stronger of limb. He was clothed in a striped cotton dress and straw-hat. It would have been difficult to find two people associated together more unlike each other. The old man took the helm, and by the way he managed the boat it was clear that he was no novice in nautical affairs. “What can he want with us!” exclaimed the captain. “We’ll treat him with politeness, at all events!” Side-ropes and a ladder were therefore prepared; but scarcely had the bowman’s boat-hook struck the side, than the old gentleman had handed himself up by the main-chains on deck with the agility of a monkey, followed by the big negro. I then saw that he had a brace of silver-mounted pistols stuck in his belt, and that he wore a short sword by his side; but the latter was apparently more for ornament than use. The negro also had a large brace of pistols and a cutlass. In the boat were two iron-clamped chests, one of them being very large, the other small.

The old gentleman singled out the captain as soon as he reached the deck, and walked up to him. “Ah, Captain Helfrich, I am glad to have fallen in with you!” he exclaimed, in a singularly firm and full voice, with nothing of the tremulousness of age in it. “I’ve come to ask you for a passage to Jamaica, as I prefer entering Port-Royal harbour in a respectable steady-going craft like yours, rather than in such a small cockle-shell as is my little pet there!” As he spoke he pointed with a smile—and such a smile! how wrinkled and crinkled did his face become—to the wicked-looking little felucca.

“Impossible, sir,” answered the captain; “my cabins are already so crowded that I could not accommodate another person!”

“Oh! how are the places of Mr Wilmot and Mr Noel occupied then?” asked the stranger with a peculiar look. They were the gentlemen who landed at Saint Kitt’s!

The captain started, and looked at his visitor with a scrutinising glance; but he remained unabashed.

“How did you learn that?” asked the captain quickly.

“Oh, there are very few things which happen in these parts the which I don’t know,” answered the stranger quietly. “However, captain, even if all your cabins are full, that excuse will not serve you. I can stow myself away anywhere. I’ve been accustomed to rough it, and Cudjoe here won’t object to prick for a soft plank!” The black, hearing his name pronounced, grinned from ear to ear, though he said nothing.

Still the captain, who evidently could not make out who his visitor was, and much mistrusted him, was about to refuse the request, when the old gentleman took him by the button of his coat, as a man does a familiar friend, and led him aside. What was said I do not know, nor could I judge from his countenance how the captain took the communication made to him—I saw him start, and examine the old man attentively from head to foot. The result, I know, was that the boat and the chests were hoisted on board—the sails were let fall and sheeted home. The stranger went to the taffrail and waved his hat. On his doing this, the felucca hauled her wind and stood to the northward.

Just under the companion-stair was a small cabin, which had been filled with stores. This was cleared out, and our strange passenger took possession of it with his chests, while Cudjoe slept at the door. He at once made himself at home, and entered into conversation with every one. No one seemed, however, inclined to quiz him. When he was on deck, I heard the gentlemen in the cabin wondering who he was, for none of them had the slightest notion about the matter; and if the captain knew, he certainly would not tell them. The negro never spoke to any of the passengers or crew. Some said he was dumb; but I knew that was not the case, for I often heard him and the old gentleman talking, but in a language I could not understand. His only care appeared to be to watch over the old gentleman’s chests, which had been placed in his cabin, and to keep an eye on the little skiff which had brought them on board.

Those of the passengers who had lived in the West Indies could do nothing for themselves, and were constantly wanting me to perform some little job or other for them. I was thus oftener in the cabin than out of it. While I was attending on them, my great amusement was listening to the yarns which the old gentleman used to spin. They took in all he said for fact; but there used to be often a twinkle in his eye which made me doubt the truth of all he said.

“A man who can look back the larger part of a century, as I have done, must have heard a number of strange things, and seen a number of strange people and strange sights, unless he has gone through the world with his eyes and ears closed, which I have not,” he remarked one day when several of the passengers were collected in the cabin. “Gentlemen, I have served both on shore and afloat, and have seen as many shots fired as most people. I cannot quite recollect Admiral Benbow’s action in these seas, but I was afloat when that pretty man Edward Teach was the terror of all quiet-going merchantmen. His parents lived at Spanish Town, Jamaica, and were very respectable people. Some of his brothers turned out very well; and one of them was in the king’s service, in command of a company of artillery. He, however, at an early age showed himself to be of a somewhat wildish disposition, and rather than submit to control, ran away to sea. For many years he knocked about, among not the best of characters perhaps, in different parts of the world, till he became as daring a fellow as ever stepped a plank. In a short time, while still very young, he got together a band of youths much of his own way of thinking; and they commenced, after the old fashion, the life of gentlemen rovers. Their mode of proceeding was to run alongside any merchantman they fell in with, which they thought would prove a prize worth having. Having taken possession of everything they wanted, they then made every landsman walk the plank, as they did likewise every seaman who would not join them. Those only who would take their oaths, and sign their articles, were allowed to live. Mr Teach used to dress himself out in a wild fashion, and as he wore a great black beard, he certainly did look very ferocious. From this circumstance he got the name of Blackbeard. I don’t fancy that he committed all the acts imputed to him, but he did enough to gain himself a very bad name. The governors of the West India Islands, in those days, and the American settlements, were rather fonder of their ease than anything else, so they allowed him to range those seas with impunity. At last, however, a naval officer, feeling indignant that one man should hold a whole community in awe, undertook to destroy the pirate. He got a ship fitted out, well-armed and well-manned, and larger than any Teach was likely to have with him. After a long search, he fell in with the pirate. Teach had never given quarter, and it was not expected that he would take it. More than half drunk, the pirates went to their quarters, and fought more like demons than men. The crew of the king’s ship had to fight desperately also. For a long time it was doubtful which would come off the conqueror. At length, however, a large number of the pirates being killed or wounded. Teach was about to blow up his ship. Before, however, he could get below, his ship was boarded by his enemies, and he had to defend himself from the attack of the gallant English officer. For a long time he fought most desperately, but at last he was brought on his knees; and as he would not surrender, he was cut down, and died on the spot. Scarcely a third of his men were taken alive, and they were mostly wounded. His head was cut off and carried to Virginia, where it was stuck on a pole; and where the greater number of the pirates taken were hung in chains, to show to others what very likely would be their fate if they should design to follow the same course.”

“Why, you seem to know so much about the matter, I suppose you were there, sir,” said one of the passengers, intending his remark to be jocose.

“That is possible, young ’un,” answered the old gentleman, fixing his eyes on the speaker. “Perhaps I formed part of the pirate crew; but you don’t fancy I was hung, do you?”

The young man did not venture a reply.

“I’ll tell you where I saw some service,” continued the old gentleman. “The Spaniards had for a long time ruled it insultingly over the English in these seas, fancying that, because we didn’t bark, we could not bite. At last a fleet was fitted out in England, and despatched to the West Indies, under the command of Admiral Vernon, in 1739. He first touched at Jamaica, where he refreshed his men, and took on board a body of troops and some pilots, as well as provisions; and, on the 5th of November, sailed for the Spanish town of Porto Bello, which lies on the north side of the Isthmus of Darien. Its harbour and strong forts afforded protection to the Guarda Costas, or Spanish cruisers, which attempted to put a stop to the commerce of other nations in these seas; and it was, likewise, the great rendezvous of the Spanish merchants from various quarters. The town consisted of five or six hundred houses, and some public buildings. The inhabitants depended almost entirely on the fair, which was held there every two or three years, and which lasted about six weeks. The fair took place according to the time when the galleons arrived from Carthagena, where they first touched to dispose of part of their goods. At Porto Bello they were met by the merchants from Lima and Panama, who came, with millions of dollars, to purchase their merchandise. So crowded was the place during the fair, that there was scarcely room to stow the chests of money! The entrance of the harbour is narrow, but widens within; and at the bottom lies the town, in the form of a half moon. At the east end of the town is a huge stable for the mules employed in the traffic between it and Panama. It is very unhealthy, as on the east side there is a swamp; and in the harbour, at low tide, a wide extent of black slimy mud is exposed, exhaling noisome vapours. The town was defended by three forts. The Iron Fort was on the north side of the harbour’s mouth, and had a hundred guns. The Gloria Castle was a mile from the first, on the south side of the harbour, and had a hundred and twenty guns. And lastly, there was the fort called Hieronymo, with twenty guns. The Spaniards having been warned of the approach of the English squadron by a fast-sailing vessel which escaped from them, were prepared to receive them, and hoped to send them to the bottom at once. The fleet consisted only of the Burford, commanded by the Admiral; the Hampton Court, Commodore Brown; the Norwich, Captain Herbert; the Worcester, Captain Main; the Princess Louisa, Captain Waterhouse; and the Stafford, Captain Trevor. On the 21st they came up with the harbour. The Hampton Court first entered, and came to action not a cable’s length from the Iron Fort; and in twenty-five minutes’ time fired away about four hundred shot; so that nothing was to be seen but fire and smoke. The Norwich came next, the Worcester next, and then the Admiral, who anchored within half a cable’s length of the castle: and though he was warmly received, the Spaniards were soon driven from their guns. Then, although no breach was made, the troops were landed, and the boats’ crews, climbing up through the embrasures, struck the Spanish flag and hoisted the English colours! The other two forts capitulated next day, and all three were completely demolished; the Spanish troops being allowed to march out with their arms. The work was done by four ships, for the other two had not come up; and its history serves to show what men can do, if they are not afraid of the consequences. The same spirit, in a juster cause, animated Vernon which had animated Morgan and the Buccaneers of old, and enabled them to succeed in their desperate enterprises. If a thing must be done, or should be done, never calculate consequences. If a thing is not urgent, then balance the probable consequences against the value of the desired result. That has been my way through life, gentlemen. I have never undertaken anything unless I wished to succeed and had secured the necessary means; and then I have guarded as best I could against unforeseen circumstances.”

This was the sort of way the old gentleman talked. He told the gentlemen one day that he was not born when the earthquake occurred during which Port-Royal was swallowed up; but that he had often heard people speak of it who had witnessed it. It began about noon on the 7th of June 1692. Nine-tenths of the city and all the wharves sunk at once; and in two minutes from the commencement of the earthquake several fathoms of water lay over the spot where the streets had just stood. Two thousand persons perished. Some, it was said, who were swallowed up in one place, rose again in another still alive; but that I do not think possible. Very likely they were washed from one place to another, clinging to beams or rafters; and not knowing, in their horror and confusion, where they had been, were picked up and saved. A mountain toppled over into a river, and, by blocking up the course, a vast number of fish were taken, which afforded food to many of the nearly starving inhabitants. Nearly all the vessels in the harbour were lost; but one ship of war, the Swan frigate, was driven over the tops of the houses without capsizing. She received but slight damage, and was the means of saving many lives. Scarcely had the earthquake ceased than a fever broke out, which carried off numbers of people. What with hurricanes, plagues, insurrections of the blacks, and attacks from foreign foes, Jamaica had an uneasy time of it; and it proves her unbounded resources that, in spite of all drawbacks, she has continued wealthy and flourishing.

The old gentleman said a great deal more about Jamaica, but this was the substance, I know, of his remarks. That there was something mysterious about the old man was very evident. The captain, I thought, stood somewhat in awe of him, and in his absence never even alluded to him. The rest of the passengers, however, indulged in all sorts of suspicions about him, though they never expressed them, except among themselves. They spoke freely enough before me, for they fancied, I believe, that I did not understand them. I was one day beginning to tell Peter what I had been hearing. “Jack,” said he, “I have a piece of advice to give you, which you’ll find useful through life. Never go and repeat what you hear about anybody. It’s done by people through idleness sometimes, and often through ill-nature, or with a downright evil intention; but whatever is the cause, it’s a contemptible propensity, and is certain to lead to harm.” I promised that I would follow this advice, and I did so.

Though we had light winds, the strong current which set in from east to west across the Caribbean Sea helped us along, and enabled us to reach Jamaica about seven days after we left Saint Kitt’s. After coasting along some way, we cast anchor in Port-Royal Harbour, about five miles from Kingston. There were from two to three hundred sail of craft of all sizes brought up in the harbour.

Scarcely had we dropped our anchor, when the wind, which had before been very light, fell completely. I saw the old gentleman come on deck, and look round earnestly on every side, and then up at the sky. He then went to the captain, and took him aside.

“I tell you it will be down upon us before very long,” I heard him say. “House your topmasts, and range your cables, and have every anchor you’ve got ready for letting go.”

The captain seemed to expostulate: “Not another craft seems to be expecting danger.”

“Never mind what other crafts are doing,” was the answer. “Take the warning of a man who has known these seas from his earliest days, and do you be prepared. If they are lost, it is no reason that you should be lost with them.”

The captain at last yielded to the advice of the old gentleman. The topmasts were struck and every particle of top hamper was got down on deck. The cables were all ranged, and two other anchors were carried out ahead, while full scope was given to the best bower which we had down. The old gentleman went about the deck seeing that everything was done properly. Had we not, indeed, been well-manned the work could not have been accomplished at all. Oh, how hot and sultry it was! I had never before felt anything like it. The pitch bubbled and boiled out of the seams on the deck, and the very birds sought shelter far away in some secluded spot.

“Why has the ship been gut into this condition?” I asked of Peter.

“Because they think a hurricane is coming, Jack. If there is, we have just got into harbour in time. I don’t see any signs of it myself, except the wind dropping so suddenly; but I suppose the officers know best.”

I told him that the old gentleman had persuaded the captain to prepare for whatever was coming.

“Ah! he knows, depend on’t, Jack,” said Peter. “I can’t tell what it is, but there is something curious about that old man. He knows a great deal about these parts.” Such was the opinion all forward had formed of the stranger.

When the wind fell the sea became like a sheet of glass. A feather could not have moved over it. It became hotter and closer than ever, and we were glad to get anywhere out of the sun, stifling even as the heat was below. Even the old hands, who were inclined to laugh at the newcomers’ complaints of the heat, confessed that they would rather have it cooler. The rest of the vessels in the harbour, with few exceptions, had not hitherto been prepared to meet any unusual tempest but lay as if their crews were totally regardless of any signs of a change. A few, however, had followed our example by striking their topmasts and getting out fresh anchors.

Some of the passengers, meantime, were very anxious to go on shore; but the stranger urged them to remain on board, and assured them that before they could be half-way there the hurricane would be upon them. Two of them, however, were incredulous. The boat of a merchantman lying not far from us, was just then passing with her master in her.

“Ah! I know Captain Williams well. If he is bound for Kingston, he will give us a passage!” exclaimed one of the gentlemen; and he hailed the boat. She came alongside, and refusing all warning, they, taking their portmanteaus, got into her.

“We’ll take any message for anyone,” they sung out jokingly as they shoved off. “The storm you are afraid of will blow over, depend on it.”

“Fools are wise in their own conceit,” muttered the old gentleman, as he turned on his heel. I remember, even now, the sound of their laughter as they pulled away up the harbour.

The heat continued to increase, though a thick reddish haze overspread the sky; but as yet not a vapour floated in it. Suddenly, as if by magic, from all quarters came hurrying up dark lowering clouds, covering the whole concave of heaven, a lurid light only gleaming out from near the horizon. Then, amidst the most terrific roars of thunder, the brightest flashes of lightning, and the rushing, rattling, crashing sound of the tempest, there burst upon us a wind, which made the ship reel like a drunken man, and sent the white foam, torn off the surface of the harbour, flying over the deck in sheets, which drenched us through and through. In an instant, the surrounding waters were lashed into the wildest foaming billows. The vessels pitched fearfully into the seas, and began, one after the other, to drag their anchors. Some broke adrift altogether, and were hurled along till they were cast helplessly on the shore; and fortunate were any of the crew who could scramble clear of the hungry waves which rolled after them up the beach. Some of the smaller craft pitched heavily a few times, and then apparently the sea rushed over them, and down they went to rise no more. I was holding on all the time to the fore-rigging with hands and feet, fearing lest I should be blown away, and expecting every moment to see our turn come next to be driven on shore. We were, however, exposed to a danger on which I had not calculated: the vessels breaking adrift, or dragging their anchors, might be driven against us, when we and they would probably have been cast on shore or sunk together. On land, wherever we could see, a terrific scene of confusion and destruction was taking place; tall trees bent and broke like willow wands, some were torn up by their roots, and huge boughs were lifted high in the air and carried along like autumn leaves; houses as well as huts were cast down, and their roofs were carried bodily off through the air. I doubted whether I would rather be afloat or on shore, unless I could have got into a deep cave, out of the way of the falling walls, and trees, and roofs. All this time every one was on deck,—the officers and crew at their stations, ready to try and avert any danger which might threaten us. With a steady gale we might have cut or slipped and run out to sea; but in a hurricane the wind might have shifted round before we were clear of the land, and sent the ship bodily on shore.

While all hands were thus on the look-out, a boat, bottom uppermost, was seen drifting down near us amidst the foaming waters. One man was clinging to the keel. He looked imploringly towards us, and seemed to be shrieking for aid. No assistance could we give him. I could distinguish his countenance: it was that of one of the passengers who had just before persisted in leaving the ship! His companion, and the master and crew, where were they? He, poor wretch, was borne by us, and must have perished among the breakers at the mouth of the harbour. We had not much time to think of him, for we soon had to look to our own safety. A large ship, some way inside of us, was seen to break adrift, and soon after came driving down towards us. Being twice our size, she might speedily have sunk us. Mr Gale and Peter were at the helm to try and sheer the brig clear of her as she approached us. This, however, was not easily effected when there was but a slight current. Down came the ship! “Stand by with your axes, my lads, to cut her clear if she touches us!” shouted the captain. The ship was still some way off, and before she reached us, a schooner broke from her anchorage just ahead of us and drove towards us.

The poor fellows on board stood ready to leap on our deck had she touched us; but she just grazed by, her main-rigging for an instant catching in ours. A few strokes of an axe cut her clear, and before any of her crew could reach us she was driven onward. In another instant the wind catching her side, she turned completely over. There was a wild shriek of despair from her hapless crew. For a few moments they struggled desperately for life; but the wind and the waves quickly drove those off who had clung to the driving hulk, and soon not a trace of them or her could we perceive.

While this was occurring the old man stood unmoved near the helm, watching the approaching ship. “Arm your people with axes, Captain Helfrich, you’ll want them,” said he quietly. His advice was followed. The ship came driving down on us on the starboard bow. It appeared that if she struck us she must sink us at the moment. Our helm was put to starboard, and by sheering a little to the other side, we escaped the dreaded blow. At that instant she turned round, and her main-yard got foul of our after-rigging. This brought our sides together, and she hung dragging on us. Instantly all hands flew to cut her adrift, for already we had begun to drag our anchors. If we escaped sinking at once, there was certain prospect of both of us being cast on shore. Some of her crew endeavoured to get on board the Rainbow; but at the moment they were making the attempt, down came our mainmast, crushing several of our people beneath it. I saw the captain fall, and I thought he was killed. The first mate was much hurt. Still the ship hung to us, grinding away at our side and quarter, and destroying our bulwark and boats. The foremast, it was evident, would soon follow the mainmast, when the stranger wielding a glittering axe, sprung, with the agility of a young man, towards the stays and other ropes which held them, and one after the other severed them. His example was followed by Mr Gale and the crew, and in a shorter time than it has taken to describe the scene, we were freed from our huge destroyer. She went away to leeward, and very soon met her fate.

Still the hurricane raged on. We were not safe, for other vessels might drive against us. However, our next work was to clear the wreck. No one was more active in this than the stranger. At first we thought that the captain was dead; but the news spread that, though much injured, he was still alive. Almost blinded by the spray and rain and vivid lightning, the crew worked on. At length the storm ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun; but words cannot describe the scenes of destruction which were presented to our eyes on every side, wrecks strewed the shore, and the plantations inland seemed but masses of ruin. Night at last came, and the ship was made snug. When I went on deck early in the morning, I looked about for the stranger. Neither he nor his black attendant, nor his chests and boat were to be found. Yet it was declared that no one had seen them leave the ship! This unaccountable disappearance made all hands wonder still more who the mysterious stranger could be. Such was my first introduction to the West Indies.

Chapter Four.

The Return Home.

“Hurrah! hurrah! Erin-go-bragh!” Such were the cries which the Irish part of our crew uttered, and in which I through sympathy joined, as once more the capstan was manned, and the anchor being hove up, and the topsails sheeted home, we made sail for Dublin. We had been longer than usual at Kingston; for the damage the brig had received in the hurricane, and the illness of the captain, which impeded the collection of freight, had much delayed us. In reality our return home brought very little satisfaction to me. I had no friends to see, no one to care for me. I therefore remained on board to assist the ship-keeper; and the whole time we were in the Dublin dock I scarcely ever set my foot on shore.

The same thing occurred after my second voyage. I did not attempt to form a friendship with anyone. Not that I was of a sulky disposition; but I was not inclined to make advances, and no one offered me his friendship. The ship-keeper, old Pat Hagan, had seen a great deal of the world, and picked up a good deal of information in his time, and I was never tired of listening to his yarns; and thus, though I had no books, I learned more of things in general than if I had bad; for I was but a bad reader at any time. Pat trusted to a good memory, for he had never looked into a book in his life. Thus, with a pretty fair second-hand knowledge of the world, I sailed on my third voyage to the West Indies in the Rainbow. We had the same officers, and several of the crew had rejoined her, who were in her when I first went to sea. I had now become strong and active, and though still little and young-looking, I had all my wits wide-awake, and knew well what I was about. The captain had taken another boy in the cabin instead of me, and I was sent forward to learn seamanship; which was, in reality, an advantage to me, though I had thus a rougher life of it than aft. Still I believe that I never lost the captain’s good-will, though he was not a man to talk to me about it.

Once more, then, the stout old brig was following her accustomed track across the Atlantic. Peter Poplar was also on board. We had been about a fortnight at sea, when, the ship lying almost becalmed with a blue sky overhead, a large white cloud was seen slowly approaching us. The lower part hung down and grew darker and darker, till it formed almost a point. Below the point was a wild bubbling and boiling of the water, although the surrounding sea was as smooth as glass.

“What can that be?” said I to Peter. “Are there any fish there?”

“No—fish! certainly not; but you’ll soon see,” he answered. “I wish it were further off; I don’t like it so near.”

“Why, what harm can it do?” I asked.

“Send as stout a ship as we are to the bottom with scant warning!” he answered. “That’s a water-spout. I’ve seen one rise directly ahead of a ship, and before there was time to attempt to escape it, down it came bodily on her deck like a heavy sea falling over a vessel. She never rose again, but went down like a shot.”

“I hope that won’t be our fate,” said I.

At that moment the captain came on deck. “Get ready a gun there, forward!” he sung out. “Quick now!” While I had been talking to Peter, a pillar of water had risen out of the sea, so it seemed; and, having joined the point hanging from the cloud, came whirling towards us. Had there been sufficient wind to send the ship through the water, we might have avoided it; but there was scarcely steerage-way on her. I thought of what Peter had just told me, and I thought if it does break over us, it will certainly send us to the bottom. The captain ordered the slow match to be brought to him, and went forward to the gun, which had been loaded and run out. On came the water-spout. I could not conceive what he was going to do. He stooped down, and, running his eye along the gun, fired a shot right through the watery pillar. Down came the liquid mass with a thundering sound into the sea, but clear of the ship, though even our deck got a little sprinkling; and when I looked up at the sky, not a sign of a cloud was there. Peter told me that we ought to be thankful that we had escaped the danger so well, for that he had never been in greater risk from a water-spout in his life.

We used frequently to catch dolphins during the passage, by striking them with a small harpoon as they played under the bow of the brig. They are not at all like the creatures I remember carved in stone at the entrance of some gentleman’s park near Dublin. They measure about four feet in length; are thick in the middle, with a green back and a yellow belly, and have a sinking between the tip of the snout and the top of the head; indeed, they are something like a large salmon. We used to eat them, and they were considered like a fat turbot.

Frequently flying-fish fell on our deck in attempting to escape from their two enemies—the dolphin and the bonito: but they fell, if not from the frying-pan into the fire, from the water into the frying-pan; for we used to eat them also. Indeed nothing comes amiss to a sailor’s mess. The flying-fish, which is about the size of a herring, has two long fins which serve it as wings; but it can only keep in the air so long as its fins remain wet. These fish, like herrings, also swim together in large shoals, which, as their pursuers come among them, scatter themselves far and wide. Nothing very particular occurred on the passage, till once more we made the land.

I went aloft when I heard the ever-welcome cry from the foretopmast-head: “Land! land on the starboard bow!” Then I saw it rising in a succession of faint blue hills out of the sparkling sea. Peter told me that it was the large island of Hispaniola, or Saint Domingo, and that it belonged partly to Spain and partly to France; but that there were a great number of blacks and coloured people there, many of whom were free and possessed considerable wealth. Not long after this, in the year 1791, these coloured people rose on the whites, who had long tyrannised over them, and having murdered vast numbers, declared their island an independent kingdom.

We were entering, I found, the Caribbean Sea by the Porto Rico passage; and were to coast along the southern shore on our course to Jamaica. Now and then we were sufficiently close in with the land to make out objects distinctly; but, in general, we kept well out at sea, as it is not a coast seamen are fond of hugging. The silvery mist of the early morning still lay over the land, when, right ahead of us, the white canvas of a vessel appeared shining brightly in the rays of the rising sun. The officer of the watch called the attention of the captain to her. Peter and I were also looking out forward. “Why, Jack!” he exclaimed, “she’s the very craft which put that old gentleman aboard the time we came away from Saint Kitt’s, you remember?”

“Of course I do,” said I. “She is like her, at all events; and as for that old gentleman, I shall not forget him and his ways in a hurry.”

“He was a strange man, certainly,” observed Peter. “The captain seems to have a suspicion about the craft out there. See, he and the mates are talking together. They don’t like her looks.”

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.

We were rather earlier than usual, and we had some time to wait till the casks were ready for us. On one of these occasions the captain was invited by a planter, Mr Johnstone by name, to pay him a visit at his farm, which was some way up the country. In that climate every gentleman has a servant to attend on him; and all the planters, and others who live there, always have negroes to help them to wash and dress in the morning, to put on their stockings, and all that sort of thing. As the captain had no black fellow to wait on him, he told me that he should want me to accompany him, and I was too glad to have a chance of seeing something of the country. Meantime, to collect our freight faster, he had chartered a schooner which was lying idle in the harbour, and sent her round to the various smaller ports to pick it up, and to bring it to the brig. He had put her under charge of Mr Gale, who had with him Peter Poplar and several other of our men, and also a few blacks, who were hired as seamen.

I thought it very good fun when I found myself once more on a horse; I had not got on the back of one since I was a little boy in Dublin, and then, of course, there was no saddle nor stirrups, and only an old rope for a bridle. They are generally razor-backed beasts, with one or two raws, and blind, at least, of one eye. The captain was mounted on a strong Spanish horse well able to bear him, and I followed on a frisky little animal with his valise and carpet-bags.

I wish that I could describe the wonderful trees we passed. I remember the wild plantains, with huge leaves split into slips, and their red seed-pods hanging down at the end of twisted ropes; the tall palms, with their feathery tops; the monster aloes, with their long flashy thorny leaves; and the ferns as large as trees, and yet as beautifully cut as those in our own country, which clothed every hillside where a fountain flowed forth; and then the countless variety of creepers, whose beautiful tracery crowned every rock, and hung down in graceful festoons from the lofty trees. Now and then, as passing through a valley and mounting a hill, we stopped and looked back, we caught sight of the blue sparkling sea, with the brig and other vessels in the harbour; a few white sails glancing in the sun, between it and the horizon; and nearer to us, valleys with rich fields and streams of water, and orchards of oranges, limes, and shaddocks; and planters’ houses with gardens full of beautiful flowers, and negro huts under the shade of the plantain-trees. Then there were those forest-giants, the silk-cotton-trees, and various kinds of fig-trees and pines, such as in the old world are never seen. But the creepers I have spoken of make the woods still more curious, and unlike anything at home. First, a creeper drops down from a branch 150 feet high, and then another falls close to it, and the wind blows and twists them together; others grow round it till it takes root, and form a lofty pillar which supports the immense mass of twisting and twining stems above. As we rode along, I saw from many a lofty branch the net-like nests of the corn-bird hanging at the end of long creepers. Those mischievous rascals, the monkeys, are fond of eggs, and will take great pains to get them; so the corn-bird, to outwit them, thus secures her nest. It has an entrance at the bottom, and is shaped like a net-bag full of balls. There the wise bird sits free from danger, swinging backwards and forwards in the breeze.

We slept that night at the house of a friend of the captain’s, who had come out with him in the brig. It was a low building of one storey, with steps leading up to it, and built chiefly of wood. A veranda ran all the way round it. The rooms were very large, but not so handsomely furnished, I thought, as the captain’s cabin. People do eat curious food in the West Indies. Among other things, there was a monkey on the table; but if it had not been for the name of the thing, I cannot say there was any harm in it. I got a bit of it after it was taken from the table, and it was very like chicken. There were lizards and snakes, which were very delicate. There was a cabbage cut from the very top of a lofty tree, the palmetto; but that tree is too valuable to be cut down often for the purpose. Then there were all sorts of sweetmeats and dishes made with them. I recollect a mass of guava-jelly swimming in a bowl full of cream, and wine, and sugar, and citron. There were plenty of substantials also; and wines and liquids of all sorts. I know that I thought I should very much like to live on shore, and turn planter. I had reason afterwards to think that they had bitters as well as sweets to taste, so I remained contented, as I have ever been, with my lot.

At night, the captain had a sofa given him to sleep on in the dining-room, and I had a rug in another corner. It was many a long night since I had slept on shore, and I was constantly startled by the strange noises I heard. Often it was only the wind rustling in the palm-trees; but when I opened my eyes, I saw one whole side of the room sparkling with flashes of light; then it would burst forth on the other side; and then here and there single bright stars would gleam and vanish; and lastly, the entire roof would be lighted up. I dared not wake the captain to ask what was the matter, and it was not till afterwards that I discovered that the light was produced by fireflies, which are far more brilliant than the glow-worms of more northern climes. I had gone to sleep, when, just before daybreak, I was again awoke by a most terrific yelling, and screeching, and laughing, and roaring. I thought that the savages were down upon us, or that all the wild beasts in the country were coming to devour us. I could stand it no longer, but shrieked out, “O captain, captain! what’s going to happen us?” The captain started up, and listened, and then burst into a fit of laughter. “Why, you young jackanapes, they are only some of your brothers, the monkeys, holding a morning concert,” said he. “Go to sleep again; don’t rouse me up for such nonsense as that.”

I found afterwards that the noise did proceed only from monkeys, though I did not suppose that such small animals could have made such hideous sounds. To go to sleep again, however, I found was impossible, as I had already enjoyed much more than I usually got on a stretch. The captain, on the contrary, went off again directly; but his sleep was much disturbed, for he tumbled about and spoke so loudly, that at times I thought he was awake and calling me. “You’ll make me, will you?” I heard him say. “I don’t fear you, Captain Ralph. I—a pirate—so I might have been called—I was but a lad—I consented to no deed of blood—It cannot be brought against me—Well, I know—I know—I acknowledge my debt to you.—You exact it to the uttermost—I’ll obey you—The merchants deem me an honest trader—What would they say if they heard me called pirate?—Ha, ha, ha?” He laughed long and bitterly.

I was very glad that no one else was in the room to hear what the captain was saying. A stranger would certainly have thought much worse of him than he deserved. I had now been so long with him that I was confident, whatever he might have done in his youth, that he was now an honest and well-intentioned man. At the same time I could no longer have any doubts that Peter’s surmises about him were correct, “That old gentleman aboard the felucca is Captain Ralph, then,” I thought to myself, “If I ever fall in with him, I shall know how to address him, at all events.” At length the captain awoke; and after an early breakfast, the owner took him round the plantation, and I was allowed to follow them.

The sugar-cane grows about six feet high, and has several stalks on one root. It is full of joints, three or four inches apart. The leaves are light green; the stalk yellow when ripe. The mode of cultivation is interesting. A trench is dug from one end of the field to the other, and in it longways are laid two rows of cane. From each joint of these canes spring a root and several sprouts. They come up soon after they are planted, and in twelve weeks are two feet high. If they come up irregularly, the field is set on fire from the outside, which drives the rats, the great destroyers of the cane, to the centre, where they are killed. The ashes of the stalks and weeds serve to manure the field, which often produces a better crop than before. The canes are cut with a billhook, one at a time; and being fastened together in faggots, are sent off to the crushing-mill on mules’ backs or in carts. Windmills are much in use. The canes are crushed by rollers and as the juice is pressed out, it runs into a cistern near the boiling-house. There it remains a day, and is then drawn off into a succession of boilers, where all the refuse is skimmed off. To turn it into grains, lime-water is poured into it; and when this makes it ferment, a small piece of tallow, the size of a nut, is thrown in. It is next drawn into pots to cool, with holes in the bottom through which the molasses drain off. Rum is made from the molasses, which being mixed with about five times as much water, is put into a still.

There are three sorts of cotton-trees. One creeps on the earth like a vine; another is a bushy dwarf tree; and the third is as high as an oak. The second-named, after it has produced very beautiful flowers about the size of a rose, is loaded with a fruit as large as a walnut, the outward coat of which is black. This fruit, when it is fully ripe, opens, and a down is discovered of extreme whiteness, which is the cotton. The seeds are separated from it by a mill.

The stem of the cacao-tree is about four inches in diameter. In height it is about twelve feet from the ground. The cacao grows in pods shaped like cucumbers. Each pod contains from three to five nuts, the size of small chestnuts, which are separated from each other by a white substance like the pulp of a roasted apple. The pods are found only on the larger boughs, and at the same time the tree bears blossoms and young fruit. The pods are cut down when ripe, and allowed to remain three or four days in a heap to ferment. The nuts are then cut out, and put into a trough covered with plantain-leaves, where they remain nearly twenty days; and, lastly, dried three or four weeks in: the sun. Indigo is made from an herb not unlike hemp. This is cut, and put into pits with water; and being continually stirred up, forms a sort of mud, which, when dry, is broken into bits for exportation.

I will mention one plant more of general use—coffee. It is a shrub, with leaves of a dark-green colour. The berries grow in large clusters. The bean is enclosed in a scarlet pulp, often eaten, but very luscious. One bush produces several pounds. When the fruit is ripe, it turns black, and is then gathered; and the berries, being separated from the husk, are exposed to the sun till quite dry, when they are fit for the market.

However, I might go on all day describing the curious plants, and trees, and animals, and birds I saw. I must speak of the ginger. The blade is not unlike that of wheat. The roots, which are used, are dug up and scraped free from the outward skin by the negroes. This is the best way of preparing it, and it is then soft and white; but often, from want of hands, it is boiled, when the root becomes hard and tough, and is of much less value.

I shall never forget the beautiful humming-birds, with magnificent plumage gleaming in the sun, and tongues fine as needles, yet hollow, with which they suck the juices from flowers.

We did not, on account of the heat, recommence our journey till the afternoon. The planter accompanied us. I heard him and the captain talking about the outbreaks of the fugitive negroes in former days. “They are a little inclined to be saucy just now,” I heard him remark. “But we taught them a lesson which they will not easily forget. Those we caught we punished in every way we could think of. Hanging was too mild for them. Some we burned before slow fires; others were tied up by the heels; and others were lashed to stakes, their bodies covered over with molasses to attract the flies, and then allowed to starve to death. Oh, we know how to punish rebels in this country.”

I listened to what the planter was saying. I could scarcely believe the testimony of my ears. Was it really a man professing to be a Christian thus talking, thus boasting of the most horrible cruelties which even the fiercest savages could not surpass?

The captain replied, that he supposed they deserved what they got, though, for his part, he thought if a man was deserving of death, he should be hung or shot outright, but that he did not approve of killing people by inches.

From what I heard I was not surprised to find that there were large numbers of these revolted negroes, under the name of Maroons, living among the mountain-fastnesses in the interior of the island, where they could not be reached; that their numbers were continually augmented by runaway slaves; and that they declined to submit to the clemency of the whites. It was quite dark before we reached the house of the planter, where the captain proposed to spend a few days. It stood on the side of a hill covered with trees, and had a considerable slope below it. It was a rough wooden edifice, of one storey, though of considerable size, and had a veranda running round it. Besides the owner, there were the overseer, and two or three white assistants; and an attorney, a gentleman who manages the law business of an estate; and two English friends. Altogether, there was a large party in the house. During dinner the company began to talk about pirates, and I saw the captain’s colour change. The attorney said that several piracies had been committed lately in the very neighbourhood of Jamaica; and that unarmed vessels, in different parts of the West Indies, were constantly attacked and plundered. They remarked that it was difficult to find out these piratical craft. Sometimes the pirates appeared in one guise and sometimes in another; at one time in a schooner, at others in a felucca, or in a brig; and often even in open boats. “Yes,” observed the attorney, “they seem to have excellent information of all that goes on in Kingston. I suspect that they have confederates on shore, who tell them all they want to know.” I thought the captain would have fallen off his chair, but he quickly recovered himself, and no one appeared to have remarked his agitation. They did carry on, to be sure! What quantities of wine and rum-punch they drank! How their heads could stand it I don’t know. Two or three of them did roll under the table, when their black slaves came and dragged them off to bed; which must have raised them in the negroes’ opinion. Even the captain, who was generally a very sober man, got up and sang songs and made speeches for half an hour when no one was listening. At last the slaves cleared the dining-room, and beds were made up there for several of the party. I was afraid that the captain might begin to talk again in his sleep of his early days, and accuse himself of being a pirate; and I was anxious to warn him, lest anyone might be listening; but then, I thought to myself, they are all so drunk no one will understand him, and he won’t like to be reminded by me of such things as that.

The night seemed to be passing quietly away. As I lay on a rug in the corner of the room, I could hear the sound of some night-birds, or frogs, or crickets, and the rustling of the wind among the plantain-leaves, till I fell asleep. Before long, however, I started up, and thought that the monkeys had begun their concert at an earlier hour than usual. There were the most unearthly cries and shrieks imaginable, which seemed to come from all sides of the house, both from a distance and close at hand. For a moment all was silent, and then they were repeated louder than before. Had not the company been heavy with drink, they must have been awoke at once. As it was, the second discharge of shrieks and cries roused them up, and in another minute people came rushing into the dining-hall from different parts of the house, their pale countenances showing the terror they felt. “What’s the matter? what’s all this?” they exclaimed.

“That the negroes have come down from the hills, and that we shall all be murdered!” exclaimed the master of the house, who had just hurried in with a rifle in his hand. “Gentlemen, we may defend ourselves, and sell our lives dearly, but that is all I can hope for.”

“Let us see what can be done,” said Captain Helfrich coolly. “This house may not stand a long siege, perhaps, though we’ll do our best to prepare it. We’ll block up the windows and all outlets as fast as we can. See, get all the rice and coffee bags to be found, and fill them with earth; we may soon build up a tolerably strong fortification.”

The captain’s confidence and coolness encouraged others, and every one set to work with a will to make the proposed preparations. All the household slaves, and several blacks residing in the neighbouring huts had come into the house to share their master’s fortunes but the greater number had run away and hid themselves. There was no lack of muskets and ammunition; indeed, there were among us weapons sufficient to arm twice as many men as were assembled. The white gentlemen were generally full of fight, and began to talk hopefully of quickly driving back the Maroons: but the blacks were in a great state of excitement, and ran about the house chattering like so many monkeys, tumbling over each other, and rather impeding than forwarding the work to be done.

Though matters were serious enough, I, with a youngster’s thoughtlessness, enjoyed a fit of laughter while we were in the middle and hottest hurry of our preparations. It happened that two stout blackies rushed into the hall from different quarters, one bearing on his back a sack of earth, the other a bundle of canes or battens. Tilt they went with heads stooping down right against each other. Their skulls met with a clap like thunder, and both went sprawling over on their backs, with their legs up in the air. The sack burst, and out tumbled the earth; and the bundle of canes separating, lay in a confused heap.

“For what you do dat, Jupiter?” exclaimed he of the canes, as he jumped up ready to make another butt at his opponent.

“Oh, ki! you stupid Caesar, you ’spose I got eyes all round,” replied Jupiter, leaping on his legs with the empty sack hanging round his nook, and stooping down his head ready to receive the expected assault.

The black knights were on the point of meeting, and would probably each have had another fall, when one of the overseers passing bestowed a few kicks upon Caesar. Off ran the hero, and Jupiter expecting the same treatment, took himself off to bring in a fresh bag of earth.

Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour passed away, but still the rebels did not commence their attack. The overseer said that they had uttered the shrieks to frighten us, and also to get the slaves to desert us, that they might murder us alone. I should have supposed that, like other savages, they would have crept silently on us, so as to have taken us unawares; but negroes, I have remarked, seldom act like other races of people.

During the short time which had passed since the alarm was given, we had made very tolerable preparations to receive the rebels. I had been running about, trying to make myself as useful as I could, when the captain called me up to him.

“I’m glad to see you wide-awake, Jack,” said he. “Remember, when the fight begins, as it will before long, stick close to me. I may want to send you here and there for something or other; and if the worst comes, and we are overpowered, we must try to cut our way out through the rascals. Now set to work, and load those muskets; you know how, I think. Ay, that will do; keep loading them as fast as I discharge them. We may teach the Niggers a lesson they don’t expect.”

I was very proud of being thus spoken to by the captain, for it was the first time that he had ever condescended to address me in so familiar a way. It was generally—“Boy, bring me my shoes;” “Jump forward there, and call the carpenter.” I resolved to do my best not to disappoint him.

I placed the powder-flask and bullets on one side of me, and the muskets on the other, so that I could load one after the other without altering my position. It never occurred to me all the time that there was the slightest degree of danger. I thought that we had only to blaze away at the Niggers, and that they would run off as fast as their legs could carry them.

Never was I more mistaken. Soon after the captain had spoken to me we were startled by another thunder-clap of shouts, and shrieks, and unearthly cries, followed by several shot, the ringing taps which succeeded each showing that the bullets had struck the house. Presently a negro, who had been sent to keep a look-out on the roof, came tumbling through a skylight, exclaiming, “Dey is coming, dey is coming, oh ki!” Directly after this announcement, the shrieks and cries were heard like a chorus of demons, and it was evident that our enemies were closely surrounding us. Whichever way we turned, looking up the hill or down the valley, the terrific noises seemed to come loudest and most continuous from that quarter.

Captain Helfrich, as if by the direct appointment of all, took the command. “Now, my lads, be steady,” he exclaimed; “don’t throw your shots away. You’ll want all you’ve got, and a bullet is worth the life of a foe.”

Each man on this grasped his musket; but the negroes held theirs as if they were very much more afraid of the weapons doing them harm than of hurting their enemies. The greater number of the lights in the house had been put out, a few lanterns only remaining here and there, carefully shaded, to show us our way about. Not a word or a sound was uttered by any of us, and thus in darkness and silence we awaited the onslaught of our enemies.

Chapter Five.

The Planter’s House Besieged.

The Maroons did not leave us long in suspense. Once more uttering the most fearful and bewildering shrieks, they advanced from every quarter, completely surrounding, as we judged, the house. For a minute they halted, and must have fired every musket they had among them. Loopholes had been left in all the windows, and every now and then I peeped through one of them, to try and discover what was taking place. There was just sufficient light to enable me to see the dusky forms of the rebels breaking through the fences and shrubberies which surrounded the house. As they arrived, they formed in front, dancing, and shrieking, and firing off their muskets and blunderbusses in the most irregular fashion, expending a great deal of gunpowder, but doing us no harm.

Captain Helfrich was watching them. When some hundreds had been thus collected, he suddenly exclaimed, “Now, my lads, give it them! Don’t throw your shots away on the bushes!”

Obedient to the order, every man in the house fired, and continued firing as fast as he could load his musket. I dropped on my knee alongside the arms the captain had appropriated, and as I handed a loaded musket to him he gave me back the one he had fired, which I reloaded as rapidly as I could.

This continued for some minutes, the constant shrieks and groans of our black assailants showing us that the shot frequently took effect. I believe, indeed, that very few of the captain’s missed. Though he fired rapidly, it was always with coolness and steadiness, and it appeared to me that he had singled out his victim before he turned round to take the musket from me.

As yet none of our people had been killed, though some of the enemy’s shot had found their way through the loopholes in the windows and doors. Growing, however, more desperate at the loss of their companions, and burning for revenge, they rushed up closer to the house, pouring in their fire, which searched out every hole and cranny. Some of the slaves who incautiously exposed themselves were the first to suffer. A poor fellow was standing at the window next to me. A bullet struck him on the breast. It was fired from a tree, I suspect. Down he fell, crying out piteously, and writhing in his agony. It was very dreadful. Then the blood rushed out of his mouth in torrents, and he was quiet. I sprang forward, intending to help him. The pale light of the lantern fell on his countenance. He looked perfectly calm. I thought he was resting, and would get up soon and fire away again. My glance was but momentary, for the captain called me back to my post.

The fire on this became hotter and hotter. Two more negroes were struck. They did not fall, but cried out most piteously. One of the English gentlemen was next shot. He fell without a groan. The captain told me to run and see where he was hurt. I tried to lift him up, but his limbs fell down motionless. There was a deep hole in his forehead, through which blood was bubbling. I suspected the truth that he was dead. I told the captain that he was hit on the head. “Leave him, then, Jack,” said he; “you can do him no good.”

On my return, I looked at the negro who had been first hit. He, too, was motionless. I tried to place him in a sitting posture, but he fell back again.

“Let him alone, Jack,” cried the captain; “his work is done; he’s no longer a slave.”

I thus found that the negro also was dead. It seemed very dreadful to me; I burst into tears.

I cried heartily as I knelt loading the muskets, forgetting that in a short time the captain, and I, and every one in the house, might be in the same state. Had not the whites shown great determination, all must before this have fallen victims to the rage of the Maroons. Numbers of our enemies were shot, but still they rushed on, resolved to destroy the house and all in it.

While the uproar they made was at its height, a loud battering was heard at one of the doors. The enemy had cut down the trunk of a young tree, and were endeavouring to break in the door with it. The captain and the other gentlemen shot down several who were thus engaged, but still they persevered; and, as some fell, fresh assailants rushing up, seized the battering-ram, and continued the work. The door was stout, but we saw that it was giving way. It began to crack in every direction. Pieces of furniture and sand-bags were piled up against it, but with little avail. Each blow shattered a part of it, and soon, with a loud crash, it was driven in, and the fierce, excited faces of our dark foes were seen above the barricade formed by the bags, and furniture, and broken door. Several who attempted to pass over it were shot down, but our people being now much more than ever exposed to the fire of the enemy, proportionably suffered. The shot came in thick among us, and one after the other was wounded.

While the captain and others were defending the breach, the battering-ram was withdrawn; why, we were not long left in doubt. To our great horror, the battering, cracking sound was heard in the rear of the house. Still we were not at once to be defeated, and some of our party hurried to defend the spot. The attack on the front-door had cost the negroes so many lives that they were more cautious in approaching the second; and, when our party began to fire, they retreated under shelter, leaving the trunk of the tree on the ground. At the same time, they began apparently to weary of their ill success in front of the house; for of course they could not be aware that they had killed any of its defenders. We were thus hoping that they would at length withdraw, when the whole country in front of us seemed to burst into flame.

“They have set the fields on fire!” exclaimed the planter.

“No, no,” said Captain Helfrich; “worse than that—see there? Our watch is out, depend on that. Not one of us will see another sun arise. So, my men, let us sally out, and sell our lives dearly.”

I looked through one of the loopholes to see what he meant. Emerging from among the trees came hundreds of dusky forms, each man bearing in his hand a torch which he flourished wildly above his head, dancing and shrieking furiously.

I thought the captain’s advice would be followed, but it was not. The rest of the party were either too badly wounded or wanted nerve for the exploit, and the slaves could not be depended on. All we did was to guard the battered-in door, and to fire away as before.

On came the Maroons with their frantic gestures, and, to our horror, as soon as they reached the door, they began to throw their torches in among us. At first we tried to trample out the fire under foot, but they soon outmastered our powers, and the furniture which composed our barricade ignited, so did the walls of the house, and the negroes shrieking and cheering, encouraged each other in throwing in fresh torches to overwhelm us. Still, induced to fight on by my gallant captain, we continued our exertions, when the attack on the back-door was renewed. It gave way! Loud shouts burst from the Maroons. Their revenge was about to be satiated.

“Now, my lads, follow me,” shouted the captain; “we’ll cut our way through them. Stick to me, Jack, whatever you do!”

As he said this, he seized a cutlass which lay on the ground, and, before the negroes had time to bring the torches round to that side, he rushed through the back-door which they had just battered down. I clung to his skirts as he told me, springing along so as not to impede him; and so heartily did he lay about him with his weapon, cutting off by a blow a head of one and an arm of another, that he speedily cleared himself a wide passage. Several of our party endeavoured to follow him with such weapons as they could seize, but, unable to make the progress he did, they were either knocked down and captured or killed on the spot. On we went towards the wood behind the house, but we had still numberless enemies on every side of us,—enemies who seemed resolved not to allow any of their intended victims to escape them. I did not think it possible that any man could keep so many foes at bay as did the captain. Just as I thought we should escape, his foot caught in a snake-like creeping root which ran along the ground. Over he went almost flat on his face; but he did not lose a grasp of his sword. He tried to rise, and I endeavoured to pull him up. He was almost once more on his feet, when another creeper caught his foot. Again he fell, and this time our enemies were too quick for him. Rushing on him by hundreds, they threw themselves on his body, almost suffocating him as they held him down by main force. I was treated much in the same way, when a huge negro caught me up by the back of the neck, and made as if he was about to cut off my head. He did not do so, but held me tightly by the collar while the rest secured the captain.

Flames were now bursting forth from every part of the planter’s house, and lighted up the surrounding landscape,—the tall plantains and cotton and fig-trees, the tangled mass of creepers and their delicate tracery as they hung from their lofty boughs, the fields of sugar-cane, the cactus-bushes, and numberless other shrubs, and the grey sombre mountain-tops beyond. From the way the blacks were running here and there in dense masses, and the excited shouts I heard, I discovered that they were in pursuit of some of the late defenders of the house, who, when too late, were endeavouring to make their escape. Had they closely followed the captain, they might all, perhaps, have cut their way through the enemy.

The blacks seemed to consider the captain a perfect Samson, for they lashed his arms and legs in every way they could think of; and then making a sort of litter, they put him on it, and carried him along towards the mountains. They treated me with less ceremony. My first captors handed me over to four of them, who contented themselves with merely binding my arms, and driving me before them at the points of their weapons. Now and then one of them, more vicious than the rest, would dig the point of his spear into me, to expedite my movement. I could not help turning round each time with a face expressive, I daresay, of no little anger or pain, at which his companions all laughed, as if it were a very good joke. They seemed to do this to recompense themselves for the loss of the booty they might have supposed the rest were collecting from the burning house.

We had not proceeded far before we were joined by a large band, carrying along, bound hand and foot, the survivors among the defenders of the house. The planter himself, and four or five of his guests, were there, and seven or eight slaves. From the disappearance of the rest of the Maroons, I concluded that they had gone off to attack some other residences.

On we went hour after hour, and when the sun rose, exposed to its broiling heat, without stopping. The negroes ate as they went along, but gave us nothing. It would have been a painful journey, at all events; but when we expected to be tortured and put to death at the end of it, I found it doubly grievous to be endured. I longed for a dagger, and that I might find my arms free, to fight my way out from among them. At last I thought that it would be the best way to appear totally unconcerned when they hurt me, so that I became no longer a subject for their merriment.