Chapter IX: Miscellaneous 283 (3)

At the time his owner was exhorting his fellow-townsmen to a closer communion with God, Captain Macgregor had given way to habits that were not commensurate with the doctrine of that righteousness which exalteth a people, and as often happens (especially aboard ship) when a bad example is shown by the master, the crew and officers drift into irregularities, and all discipline is destroyed. This was exactly what occurred aboard the _Hebe_. The master was known to be on the spree, so the mate, Munroe, thought he would have a day off, and took as a drinking chum, Ralph, the half-marrow; and, in order that they might not be disturbed, they travelled to a snapshop in the country, some miles away from the town. Instead of one day, two were spent in drinking, swearing, dancing, and, as sailors generally call it when on the spree, casting the lead--presumably to know their whereabouts. A sailor belonging to the _Hebe_ got to know where they were, and persuaded a man belonging to another vessel to go with him and bring them back. They had a tough job, but at midnight of the second day they succeeded in getting them to retrace their way to the ship, the plan being to get aboard when nobody was about. Munroe was a typical sailor, full of devilment, especially when he had had a few glasses of grog. The two "plants" trudged their way conversing with great animation of what they had seen and done and what they intended to do. Ralph was ready to acquiesce in all his officer said as to future exploits. Their shipmate reminded them (especially Ralph) that it would not be well for them if the old man got to know they had been on the loose, whereupon Ralph retorted, "I don't care a damn for the old beggar." This outburst was supplemented by more sanguinary promises on the part of Mr Munroe. At this point they were passing a farm just on the outskirts of the town, and observed some poultry. The chief officer said he would not go aboard emptyhanded, and had never done so in his life, and wouldn't do so now.

"What do you say, Ralph?"

"I say the same as you say, James," said the complacent half-marrow; "let us have a fowl for breakfast."

One cock and two hens were captured by the mate, who was full of congratulations to himself. At last one of the escorts reminded him that he would have to conceal the birds or he might be stopped and run in by the sentry.

"By gox, that's true," said Munroe; "where shall I put them?"

"In your breeches," said Ralph, sharply.

"That's first class," said he, and with Ralph's assistance they were stowed in the part of his wearing apparel where there was an abundance of room generously supplied by the tailor. They had not gone many yards when the mate showed evidences of discomfort. He was obviously suffering pain. The two escorts were by this time in kinks with laughter. Ralph asked his mate what was the matter with him.

"Matter?" said the mate, "why, the blooming things are biting me to pieces."

"Let the beasts bite," said Ralph coolly; "you cannot have them there without them doing something, you darned fool! How do you expect to get past the sentry if you go on like that? Buck up and bear it."

At this point the cock gave an unnatural guttural cry. Ralph exhorted his companion to keep the thing quiet. He replied he couldn't, and that he would stand it no longer.

"Well," said Ralph, "if you won't stand it you won't have fowl for breakfast."

"Oh, darn the breakfast! I must let them go. Help me to unbutton, for if I move they'll go mad again."

The birds were taken from their concealment. Ralph secured two, twisted their necks, stuffed one into his own nether garment, and informed the mate that he should have adopted this plan of quietening them at first.

"Here," said he, passing him the other dead hen, "two makes it far over bulky; you stow it away in yours."

"No fear," said Mr Munroe, "I'll never touch or eat a bit of fowl again as long as I live. My sufferings are too great."

"Why that's rotten nonsense," said the resourceful half-marrow; "the thing's dead."

"I don't care," responded the penitent thief, "I'll never handle them again, dead or alive. Oh, Christo, I _am_ smarting!"

"Hold your blether about smarting and suffering, you fool, or you'll get me nabbed," replied Ralph, who had now concealed both roosters.

The two escorts were by this time well nigh paralytic with laughter. As they drew near to where the slumbering sentry stood, the chief officer caused great anxiety by the style of walk he was forced to assume. Ralph implored him not to go along as though he expected swine to pass between his legs, and not to put on such an agonized look. He coaxed him by the promise that he himself would attend to his wounds as soon as they got safely aboard. The good-hearted soul took infinite trouble in his rough way to fulfil the pledge he had given. They were not intercepted by the military gentleman who guarded the destiny of the port, and as soon as their feet were planted on deck Ralph exclaimed, "Now we're safe." Jack has an inherent belief in the sacredness of British territory, either floating or otherwise. He is a stout upholder of British supremacy, and conformity to the laws of other nations does not appeal to him. His creed is undisguised, and has been handed down as an heirloom from the great naval hero who smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France at Trafalgar. Here it is: "Fear God, and hate a Frenchman as the devil hates holy water." The average sailor continues to believe this to be an edict which alone can assure patriotism and divine compassion. All these things were well mixed in Ralph's brain. He never doubted the truth of them, and the one idea which brought forth the utterance, "Now we're safe," was the conviction of British supremacy and protection.

It took Mr Munroe a few days to get into working order. The news of the adventure and the sequel to it soon spread amongst the English vessels in port. There was much visiting and jocular sympathy expressed for the prime mover, and the sailor's sense of humour was greatly touched by all he heard. The mate himself was a humourist, and after he had got over the painful period he often told the story against himself, and never failed to do so with a vividness that made it highly attractive.

The loading of the vessel was in no way delayed by this little freak, as there was no cargo down. Captain Macgregor, however, had not been seen for several days, and the vessel was nearly ready for sea. The proper agencies were instructed to have him brought aboard, drunk or sober, so he landed aboard drunk, and gave everybody an unhappy time until he was got into his bunk and sent to sleep. The next day he rose early, got all his papers and accounts made right, paid them, signed bills of lading, cleared, and put to sea with a fair wind. There were no traces of intemperance in either his behaviour or in the manner of giving orders. He talked with marked intelligence to his officer, and partook of the evening meal with him; and as he had reason to leave the table before Munroe had finished, he politely asked to be excused for doing so. This mark of consideration overshadowed his other faults and stamped him as a gentleman in the opinion of the mate. A somewhat disturbing incident followed, for the guttural voice of someone nowhere to be seen rebuked James Munroe for absenting himself from the vessel for two days and indulging in intoxicating drink to excess and for purloining a poor farmer's fowls, which even the painful results to himself could not excuse. Then followed a modest tribute to Captain Macgregor's superior morality. "It is not well that Macgregor should ever taste alcohol," said the voice; "the slightest drop takes effect and causes him to appear intoxicated when he is not." Then there came from the stairs the almost incoherent announcement that a stormy passage was to be experienced. Then the voice fluttered away, and left only the sound of creaking timbers and the weird moan of the wind. Munroe was riveted with dumb terror, and when speech came to him he remarked: "That's darned funny," and proceeded on deck to attend to his duties. In a short time he was joined by the captain, who was promptly informed of what had been heard.

"Ah," said the skipper, in dead earnest, "that must have been a warning to you and to me to regulate our lives aright."

"I don't know about the warning, but these visitations you talk about are not very canny," responded the mate.

"How dare you complain of being reminded of absenting yourself from your duties and stealing poultry and concealing them in a manner that is disgraceful?" sternly replied the captain.

"All right," said Munroe in a voice obviously agitated, "say no more about it."

Macgregor navigated for three days after leaving, with great vigour and commendable care, though it was known that he was tippling. He seemed to have an aversion to Ralph when he had imbibed too freely. This could not be accounted for, as until recently Ralph was very popular with the captain. After passing Elsinore he commenced to drink harder, but always kept his watch until the Scaw was rounded. Then irregularities became visible. Strong westerly winds were encountered after passing the Jutland coast. The men knew by experience whenever a light was kept burning in the stateroom at night, when the wind blew hard and a press of canvas was being carried, that the intention was, not to take a stitch in until something carried away. The sailors dreaded these occasions, as the little craft was smothered at times and never a bit of rest could be had until the wind eased down. Ten days after leaving Windau the _Hebe_ entered the Commercial Docks, London. She had been flogged heavily all the way home. A record passage was considered to have been made under the circumstances, and several vessels that had left before and at the same time were sheltering in Elsinore roads, while others had put into Norwegian ports. Mr Hobkirk was much gratified by his captain's performances, and would not listen to the petty gossip that had been sent by some busybodies about him drinking and being absent from the vessel while at the loading port. He deemed it necessary, however, to mention the matter to the captain, who on his arrival at the Tyne was asked to spend an evening with the owner and discuss things generally. The use of offices was dispensed with in these days. All accounts and correspondence were kept and carried on from the owner's private house. When the interview took place, Captain Macgregor was at his best. Hobkirk was like a willow in his hands. He nervously introduced the subject of intemperance. It was eloquently and contemptuously denied; and just as the owner was in the act of repeating what had been told him, a stern voice came down the chimney rebuking him for lack of confidence in a man who had given such proof of integrity. Hobkirk felt uneasy, but the matter of accounts which were not quite satisfactory had to be dealt with. As soon as they were mentioned Macgregor fumed into white heat and rose to go, and got nearly to the door when a sharp angry voice came down the chimney demanding that the captain should be brought back again and peace made with him. Hobkirk was by this time in such a state of terror he begged the gallant commander to take his seat, and apologised for having unintentionally offended him. Again the voice came: "The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor: let them be taken in the devices that they have imagined." This was the climax. Hobkirk was beside himself with fear, and tremblingly requested that all should be forgotten.

"I assure you, Macgregor, I have the fullest confidence in you. By the way, did you hear anything just now?"

"Yes," said the captain, "and although I'm not a nervous man it has made a very deep impression upon me. Good night, sir."

The captain never had the honour of being invited to his owner's home again. There were those who said that Hobkirk believed him to have communion with his Satanic majesty, or to possess supernatural power. Hobkirk was undoubtedly convinced that the mill was haunted by a spirit favourably disposed towards the man who had claimed to be his ideal shipmaster. He became afraid to doubt his honesty or his sobriety lest his nights might be disturbed and his days filled with trouble.

"Ah," said he to a friend in whom he had confided, "Solomon the son of David was right when he said these words: 'Happy is the man that findeth wisdom and the man that getteth understanding, for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.'"

"Very shrewd, very fine," said his friend, "but you might have added one or two other things that the great Hebrew King's son said. What do you think of these few words of wisdom and rebuke: 'But ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity: I will mock when your fear cometh?' It is no use, Hobkirk; I told you all along that Macgregor would have to be watched, but you were carried away with his money-making, his glamour and letter-writing, and now he's your master. I'll tell you another thing old Solomon said: 'Open rebuke is better than secret love, and faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.' My advice is: have another master ready for the _Hebe_ as soon as she gets back."

Hobkirk confessed to his friend that the quotations from his favourite author and his own frank statements had made a deep impression on him, though he was bound to admit that his confidence was only partially shaken in the man to whom he had pinned his faith.

"Very well, we will see," responded the friend as he passed out of the door.

Mr Hobkirk's meditations kept him awake right through the night, and at an early hour in the morning he boarded the _Hebe_, and found the captain and his men energetically preparing to take her to sea. The cargo was all in. A gentle westerly breeze was blowing. The topsails were set; the moorings were let go; and the little vessel proceeded out of the harbour bound to Copenhagen.

The owner went over the bar with her, and on getting outside had a private conversation with the master, the nature of which was never disclosed, but so far as Macgregor was concerned it was animated. Mr Hobkirk, before leaving with the pilot, gave the crew his benediction, and slipped into the cobble which waited to convey them ashore. The pilot, observing that the flag was being dipped, broke the silence by remarking:

"She's off once more, sir, and they're dipping the blood and guts of old England to say goodbye to us."

The owner was indignant, and smartly retorted:

"I wish you to understand, pilot, that I will not have the British flag insulted in my presence. When you speak of that flag, sir, you must speak of it with reverence, and remember that it has never been lowered to an enemy."

The pilot, who had been a sailor and captain, was amazed at the owner's ignorance in not knowing that seamen were accustomed to speak of the flag in this way. Had he been a foreigner who dared to address him in a similar tone of ill-nature, he would have thrown him overboard. As it was, he merely remarked in an ironic accent that Mr Hobkirk "had a lot to learn yet." By the time the cobble got ashore, the fine clipper brig was nearly hull down.

Macgregor had prevailed upon the same crew to go with him again, and the owner's back was scarcely turned before he commenced to drink and ill-use the poor half-witted Ralph who was in his watch. There does not appear to have been any reason for this except that of alcoholic viciousness. The dark horror of secret drinking quickly developed into hideous proportions; it gripped him like a vice; his bleary eyes and wild fits of delirium foreshadowed inevitable collapse. He raved about things that were supposed to be whispered in his ears by unholy voices; he saw wild beasts of the most ferocious character, which were not there, and imagined them grinding their teeth in anxiety to devour him; he alternately yelled and whispered that rats, weasels and wild cats were crawling over his body and gnawing at his vitals. In the paroxysm of frenzy he lay down on the cabin floor and tried to bury his head from the sight of the demons that he imagined pursued him. He cried out in pitiful accents to be shielded from them, and in the effort lost complete capacity for coherent speech. The crew were thrown into a condition of chilly fear. A consultation was held, and it was decided to have him carefully watched and occasional doses of brandy administered. For three days a fine westerly breeze had raced over the dappled sea. It had varied in strength, and nearly three hundred miles had been covered when the wind died away to a calm which continued nearly twenty-four hours. Then an air sprang up from the east and gradually gained in strength to a whole sail breeze. The captain had shown alarming signs of sudden recovery during the early hours of the fourth day. The _delirium tremens_ had apparently left him, and he became subdued and attractively rational. Munroe, who did not possess much intelligence, knowledge or ambition, expressed his satisfaction that the drunken beggar was about to resume control, as he was sick of being both skipper and mate. As a matter of fact, responsibility did not sit lightly on this frivolous officer, and it may be that he knew the measure of his capacity. Ralph heard all the mate had to say, and quietly remarked:

"They haven't left him yet. He's only at the cunning, dangerous stage."

"What do you mean, Ralph?" said Munroe (for in spite of his reputed semi-idiotcy Ralph was supposed to possess intuitive foresight).

"I mean what I say. Now's the time to watch him, or he may have any one of us by the throat before we know where we are. I'll be the first he'll go for," said Ralph, in broad vernacular; "he used to like me, but now that he's taken on to drink I feel that he wants to kill me."

At midnight on the fourth day from sailing Ralph had just relieved the wheel, and Macgregor had come on deck, and commenced to walk the quarterdeck in his usual dignified style. The vessel was being sailed by the wind, and his eyes became fixed aloft, watching, as was his custom, whether she was properly steered. At last he broke silence by shouting out:

"Hard up! Don't you see the rocks right ahead?" Then he sprang at Ralph like a tiger, and had nearly torn his clothes off him before other members of the crew came to his aid. The captain's strength was superhuman. It took four men to get him into his berth and lash him securely down, and in a few minutes he died in a screaming fit of madness.

It was promptly arranged that the body should, if possible, be landed in England, and as there was blowing a whole sail breeze from the east, her tail was put to it and then a heated discussion arose as to the proper course to steer for Tynemouth Castle. The mate said W. by N. Ralph insisted W. by S. from their position would land her right under the castle foot. As both stubbornly maintained they were right, it was agreed to come to a compromise by steering W. by N. one watch and W. by S. the next, and so on until the land was made. After this knotty question was settled an incident almost incredible in its awful gruesomeness took place. Ralph became smitten by a revengeful mania. He went below, took his deceased commander's clothes off, put his body on the table and commenced to lash at it with a piece of rope, exclaiming at every stroke, "You thrashed me, you tiger, when you were living, and I'll thrash you now that you're dead." The mate happened to go into the cabin while this performance was going on, and was stricken with chill horror.

"My God, Ralph, what are you doing?" the mate shouted.

"Don't you see what I'm doing, you d----n fool?" said Ralph, "I'll teach the villain to lash me for doing nothing!"

"But," said Munroe, "his body will be marked, and we will be had up for murder!"

"There is no fear of that. A corpse never gets marked by beating it."

This assurance relieved Mr Munroe so much that he covered his strange companion with profuse compliments on his knowledge of the inanimate human body, and nicknamed him 'Ralph-ower-mony.' After this extraordinary being had finished his gruesome revenge on the dead body of his master, it was placed in a hastily-constructed deal casement, and put on top of the longboat, and then covered over with the Union Jack and an awning, so that it might be kept cool.

There is no class of Englishmen who regard the national flag with such reverence as the sailor; to him it is a divinity, used as an emblem of glory, or sorrow, as the case may be. He disdains making the noisy, vulgar use of it that is sometimes practised at meetings by unctuous, ill-read politicians, whose abnormal egotism, impudence and ignorance cause them to boast of a devotion for the flag equalled by no one else. The sailor, on the other hand, speaks of it as a thing too sacred to act circus games with. If his shipmate dies at sea, he is sewn up in canvas and covered over with the Union Jack; a heavy weight is placed at his feet, and, with heads bowed low, they silently commit his remains to the deep. If a sailor dies in port, the flag is used to cover the coffin as a solemn token of having died while serving under its beneficent protection. Think of the beautiful sentiment that governs the sailor's ideal of using it, and then, if you can, think of the blatant political person and the use he puts it to! How it reminds you of Petticoat Lane, and makes you pray that England may be delivered from such disgusting impertinence!

Mr Munroe had assumed command, and discussed with his crew the idea of a burial at sea. This was strenuously opposed by Ralph, who insisted that the body should be carried to England in case the question of foul play should arise. This course was adopted, and great precaution was taken to prevent premature decomposition. A smart breeze from the N.E. carried the little brig rapidly towards the land, and on the morning of the third day she sailed into the roadstead for which she had been steered. The dual courses had worked out an accurate landfall. Before the anchor was let go, the pilot cobble came alongside.

"Where's the captain?" asked the pilot.

"The beggar's dead, sir," answered Ralph, ignoring the respect he owed to his superior officer, Mr Munroe, who requested him to keep his tongue quiet and allow him to speak. The anchor was dropped, sails furled and flag put half-mast, and the pilot was requested to go ashore and acquaint the owner with what had happened. At eleven o'clock every forenoon a few well-known owners met in the parlour of an inn, there to discuss matters of personal and public interest. The banking accounts and characters of their neighbours who did not belong to the coterie were pulled remorselessly to pieces. If they happened to have progressive ideas and were successful, their speedy bankruptcy was predicted. Each member of the party had "churchwardens" kept in a bracket with his name on, and only one glass of whiskey and one pipe of tobacco was indulged in until the evening sitting, when they did not stick at trifles. But the keynote of these forenoon and evening sittings was _money_. Mr Hobkirk and his friends had just got quietly seated and the conversation turned on the vessel that had been observed to anchor in the roads, when the pilot in wild excitement burst in upon their privacy, exclaiming:

"The _Hebe_ has put back with the captain's dead body aboard!"

"How did he come by his death?" asked several of the party; "he was a stout, strong-looking man?"

"They say he died of drink," said the pilot.

"Ah," responded the comforting friends, "we told you, Hobkirk, what you might expect. You remember the voice coming down the chimney? That was his voice. We have been informed he could talk two ways. We never believed in him, and told you so."

"I admit it, gentlemen, I admit it. I have been deceived, but please do not refer to the chimney affair again; that unnerves me."

Instructions were given to the pilot to land the body of Captain Macgregor, and without any show of mourning the remains of this once brilliant man were put to rest in a drunkard's grave, close by the sea, far away from his own home. The story of how he came by his death and what subsequently occurred was told in all its ghastly detail to the pilots, who in turn spread it abroad, without diminishing the account given to them. Another captain was quickly engaged, and the _Hebe_ sailed on her voyage. The late owners of Captain Macgregor were informed of his death, and about two weeks afterwards a comely-looking lady with a little boy of four years old called at Mr Hobkirk's house and asked for an interview. She was received with unfeigned displeasure. The owner commenced a vigorous tirade against the man who he considered had wronged him by killing himself with drink. The lady suddenly cut this flow of vindictive denunciation short by stamping her foot on the floor and shouting out: "Stop! I will listen to this no longer. I am the widow of the late captain. I have come from Scotland, not to hear your coarse abuse of him, but to learn where you have laid his body. Tell me this, and then I desire to hear no more from you. His effects and any money due from you to him you may send to this address."

Hobkirk interjected:

"He has no money due."

"Very well, then," responded Mrs Macgregor, "there will be none to send; but I must have his effects."

Hobkirk by this time had read the address. It startled him. He became apologetic and asked if the baronet whose address she had given was in any way related to her.

"Yes," said she, "he is my father, and my late husband's uncle."

"Ah," said Hobkirk, "I knew my judgement was right in believing him to belong to a family of distinction. He was a man of great ability, and had a fascinating address. What a sad thing that he should have given way to drink."

"I must request you not to speak of Captain Macgregor in this way to me. Whatever faults he may have had are covered up in his tomb. If he has wronged you, be frank and tell me, so that I may atone for it in some way. You have my address. I came here principally to visit his grave and arrange for a tombstone to be put up. Please be good enough to allow someone to take me to it."

"If I may, I should like to take you to it myself."

But the little lady declined. The fine dignity of her bearing, and the charm of her bow when she said "good-day" to him, covered the parochial potentate with shame for having received and treated her as a commonplace captain's wife. Mr Hobkirk conveyed to his friends at their evening sitting at the inn all that had passed between himself and his distinguished visitor. He was smartly censured for being shortsighted in not discerning that she belonged to the gentry, and he was charged with the possibility of getting the leading citizens of the town into bad repute.

"Why," said they, "she may write to the papers about it, and then there will be a fine ado."

The tragedy of her husband's death and her visit created a sensation of no small importance in the district. Local gossip made much of it, and for a time the great Mr Hobkirk lost caste. The poor, bereaved lady was the centre of sympathy. They thought of her standing by the grave-side, holding her little son by the hand, and, wrapped by the veil of sorrow, offering up a humble prayer to Almighty God, and then quietly passing from the scene of sadness and death to make her way home.

IV

PIRACY IN THE ARCHIPELAGO

Who can fully estimate all the world owes to Providence and nature in propagating the fervid Scottish race? They are found in every continent, climbing from the three-legged stool in an office, or from any other subordinate position. They toil upward with caution and perseverance. They always aim at the top of the tree, and multitudes of them succeed. But one of the Scot's extraordinary characteristics is his deference to superiors. At an early age the average Scot is characterized by this passion to get on by thrift, love of "siller," a puritanic mode of thought, and an imperishable love of his country which, however, does not prevent him from leaving it in order to enter into mercantile or other pursuits in the farthest parts of the earth--or the nearest, it really does not matter--so long as he gets a decent start.

Archie Macvie's father, who was an elder of a Presbyterian Kirk, managed one of the flax factories in an important town north of the Forth. Archie was the youngest of the lads, and by far and away the cleverest, but he had made up his mind to engage himself as an apprentice aboard an English brig that was discharging flax for the owners of the factory. This determination came as a great shock to the Macvies, who had pictured their boy in the position one day of a popular minister of their own denomination. Every strictly proper device was used to change the mind of their laddie, but all to no purpose. His imagination, and perhaps his desire to minimise the grief of his parents, led him to urge that in a few years he would come to them, not only a captain, but an owner. The old people were secretly pleased to hear these aspirations from the lips of their much-beloved boy, but they felt it their duty to treat the case with becoming solemnity. "Ah, Archie," said his father, "I must warn you never to allow the things of this world to take possession of your thoughts in a way that will keep religion from you. I would remind you of the words of Solomon: 'Better is little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith.'" However, he went to sea.

After four years and a half of hard training he had gained the reputation of being one of the smartest young fellows that sailed out of his port. He had become quite a favourite, not only with his shipmates, but with the captain and owner. There was neither surprise nor jealousy when the master recommended that his indentures should be endorsed, and that he should be given the mate's situation, which had become vacant. At this time he was in his twentieth year, and before he had reached twenty-one his owner gave him command of the vessel which about six years before he had joined as an apprentice. His rapid advancement and singular success as a shipmaster made his contemporaries speak of him as likely to reach the very highest place in the profession before he had attained his thirtieth year. Their estimate of the highest position was really very modest, as the largest vessel belonging to the port did not exceed 700 tons deadweight, and of these there were only about half-a-dozen. The general public rarely saw them except when they came off a long voyage and had repairs to do. Those occasions were looked upon as not merely incidental, but historic. The whole country-side turned out to witness the advent of what they conceived to be a leviathan; the vessel herself was dressed from truck to rail on every mast with bunting, and there was a corresponding display of it on shore. Events such as births, deaths, marriages, and other more or less interesting doings were accurately remembered by a visitation of this kind. The local almanac chronicled the occasion as minutely as it did the death of Nelson or the accession of Queen Victoria to the throne. So that if any lapse of memory occurred a reference to this touchstone of local history put matters right. Archie Macvie had longed for the time to come when someone would offer him command of a large vessel. His reputation as a clever, pushing, steady-going shipmaster had reached beyond the circle of local critics, which entitled him to expect speedy promotion. His owner, as well as other people, predicted great things of him, and it was whispered that he had immediate prospects that were dazzling in their lucrative possibilities. A landed proprietor, who owned the whole of a handsome barque, had heard of his fame, and wrote requesting Macvie to come and see him. The interview sealed the captain's future destiny. Mr Rockfeller received him with becoming dignity; but after a few minutes' conversation with the young captain his icy manner melted. He became aware that the man whom he had asked to be seated in the sumptuously-furnished drawing-room was his equal, if not his superior, in knowledge and intelligence.

"Your youthful appearance surprises me," said the lord of the manor.

"Yes," responded the shrewd Scotsman; "I have been told that before, and have often had reason to be grateful to a kind Providence in not necessarily prohibiting me from occupying a position of trust because of my juvenile appearance."

"Very good, very good," said Rockfeller. "And now, captain, I wish at once to offer you command of the first vessel that brought gold from Australia. Your wage will be L12 per month; and in order to give you a good start I offer you an eighth of the _Boadicea_ at a low price. If you have the money to pay for it, well and good; if not I will be content to allow you to work it off."

"Your kindness overpowers me," replied Macvie; "I am sorry I have not sufficient money saved to pay for the share you so generously give me the opportunity of taking, and as I make it a rule never to purchase a thing I cannot pay for in cash, I am reluctantly compelled to refuse it."

"Very well," said the owner, "give me what you can spare, and I will forego the balance, and hand you a bill of sale for eight sixty-fourths. I do this not only because of the favourable impression you have made, but to make you feel that your interest is not merely that of a commander, but that of part owner with myself."

"I thank you; but may I suggest that this generosity be postponed until you have tested whether I will suit you or not?" said the lucky captain.

"No, I will risk that," replied Mr Rockfeller. "And now there is nothing left for me to say except to request that you join the vessel at once; and you have a free hand to do what you consider best with her."

Captain Macvie hurried home and conveyed to his young wife the good fortune that had come to them. He also informed his aged parents, whom he had not seen since his first home-leaving, of all that had taken place, and expressed his regret that he could not visit them before sailing on a voyage to the Piraeus, but hoped to do so on his return. This letter became a family heirloom. The joy of the old people was reflected on the whole family, and also on their friends, and the congratulations were numerous and sincere. In less than a week from the time of being engaged, the _Boadicea_ was towed over the bar, and she sailed away followed by a north-east wind. The hurrahs of the visitors after embarking on the tug reverberated the joyous tidings of goodwill, and soon the ship and her jolly crew passed from view into the southern haze.

The Eastern question was causing great anxiety in diplomatic circles; trouble was fast brewing into open hostility, and before the _Boadicea_ arrived at the port of discharge, the great Russian war of 1854 had broken out with all its hellish mismanagement and criminal indifference to the needs of the finest soldiers in the whole world. They were badly generalled, shockingly clothed and meagrely fed on provisions that the ordinary civilian would scarcely give to swine. Complaints of the grossest mismanagement were sent home and were unheeded; while the predatory, heartless scoundrels who had contracts were allowed to amass wealth by shamelessly robbing poor Tommy of his food and clothes. Mon Dieu! What forbearance the thinking, sympathetic portion of the British people must have had to endure it, knowing that their fellow-subjects and kinsfolk were being done to death by some contractors and by the callousness and incompetency of dunderheaded politicians and drawing-room warriors! It is a sickening subject that cannot be approached without feelings of anger.

The _Boadicea_ made a quick passage, and was boarded on her arrival by swarms of Levantine gentlemen, each clamouring for first place to get her in hand to charter. The declaration of war had created a wild demand for transport tonnage. Sensational freights were offered for the veriest rattletraps, and as the young commander of the _Boadicea_ estimated his craft to be one of the finest of her class afloat, he made a counter-bid which startled the Grecian modesty of his interesting visitors. The negotiations were animated, and before the day closed the vessel was chartered at a rate that would pay back her original cost in less than twelve months. Over and above this it was agreed that the captain should receive legitimate gratuities that amounted to more than double his wage per month. The director of transports ordered the vessel to be taken to Malta to load stores immediately she had finished discharging, and gave instructions that overtime should be worked in order to get the cargo of much needed supplies to the seat of war. It was a stirring time for the captain and his crew. In four days the holds were emptied and she sailed from the Piraeus on the fifth with 180 tons of sand ballast aboard. In five days from leaving Athens she arrived in the beautiful harbour of Valetta, and four days after left again with a full cargo of foods, stores and other supplies for Constantinople for orders. Every stitch of canvas was set after getting clear of the harbour; studding sails lower and aloft were spread to the kiss of the singing wind, and the officers were made to understand that there was to be hard cracking on; nothing was to be taken in until the maximum amount of endurance of spars, ropes and rigging had been reached. The breeze freshened and the sea curled its white tops into angry combers Captain Macvie walked the starboard quarterdeck with an air of dignity and luxury of dress that would have called forth the supreme contempt of his associates of earlier days. They would have stigmatized him as a fine-weather dandy, and not a true British sailor. The captain had never been past Gibraltar until he got command of his present vessel. As a matter of fact, he had rarely been off the coast, and never at any time as far south as Cape Finisterre. He had acquired large ideas of the magnificence that should be observed by a captain aboard a vessel of the _Boadicea's_ size and class. He had heard also that the men liked to see monarchical display, and that is why he adopted it so naturally. The third day after leaving Malta the forecastle hands were congregated on the topgallant forecastle during the dogwatch from six to eight. The discussion was of an animated character. The second officer, who was an old hand in these waters, stood amongst them, and the speaker frequently referred to him in order that his statements might be confirmed. When the second officer came aft, the captain remarked that the boys seemed to have had a heated discussion.

"Mr Robb, may I take the liberty of asking if it is anything that may not be conveyed to me?"

"Not at all," said Mr Robb; "they were yarning about pirates that infest the Grecian Archipelago. They sneak out of the bays and from under the islands with the suddenness of a rocket. They have very swift schooners, many of them built in America for the slave trade, and they are full of well-armed, bloodthirsty villains who stick at nothing." It was according to the strictly observed ethics of South Spainer discipline that the commander never was supposed to so far lower the supremacy of high office as to speak directly to a common sailor, but only through his officers. Mr Robb took it for granted that this law had been rigidly observed, and therefore said to the captain.

"You know that fair-haired man who was talking so excitedly?"

Macvie, not wishing to appear familiar with his men, and perhaps in order to impress the officer with an air of majesty, replied:

"No, sir, I do not know him, but I think I _recognize_ the sailor to whom you desire to call my attention. I saw him gesticulating, and I think I heard him swear frightfully."

"That may be, sir," said the second officer, "but he means no harm by it. He is indeed one of the best and bravest sailors attached to the British Mercantile Marine; and were it not a breach of etiquette, I would ask you to allow him to give you a brief account of all the curious experiences and hardships he has gone through in a short life."

"My curiosity impels me to consent, but my judgement forbids such familiarity. Had I been in charge of the _Vanquisher_ I might have yielded; as it is, I must conform to the duty that devolves upon a person in my position by asking you to be the medium of communication of this sailor's strange adventures," said the captain.

"Very good," replied Robb, "then here is the story: I do not think he would like me to tell you, but he was a pirate himself for over twelve months. It came about like this. He and I were shipmates five years ago. The barque we were in was discharging at Athens. We asked for liberty to go ashore one Saturday night; he got a few glasses of grog too much, and became pally with some Greek sailors who spoke broken English. They asked him to go with them to some place of amusement, and in spite of my pleading with him not to do so, he went; the result being they decoyed him aboard their own vessel, which proved to be a pirate schooner. When he came to himself after his drunken sleep, the vessel was far out at sea. He was soon made to understand what he would be expected to do, and the terrible conditions under which he would be permitted to live. He was asked to take the oath of fidelity to their cause, which carried with it awful obligations and consequences if not rigidly adhered to; and after the hazy alcoholic stupor had been shivered out of him, he grasped the situation, and not only agreed to their code, but became, externally, the most enterprising of the gang. They were indebted to him for much useful information, though for some time his _bona-fides_ were suspected because of his pushful partiality for conflict with any nationality rather than his own. He persuaded his friends that six out of ten British vessels kept firearms and powder magazines aboard, and that foreigners, such as Swedes, Norwegians, Danes and Germans gave in much sooner than his own countrymen. They cordially agreed with this, hence rarely gave chase after a Britisher except when he suggested it, and it was policy for him to do this sometimes in order to keep on perfectly good terms with them. He has told me that over and over again they boarded Norwegian vessels laden with flax, tallow or grain, and the crew asked them to take what they wanted and no resistance would be made. This, he says, was the best plan, because it saved blood from being spilt on either side. They used to fill the craft's holds from the cargo of the captured vessel; take any money or valuables, such as chronometers, that might be aboard; all firearms, gunpowder and implements of warfare had to be given up; and a squad of armed pirates covered their comrades who were operating for the benefit of the whole.

The grief of having to leave my old shipmate behind was only equalled by the mystery of what had become of him. He was very popular with all of us in the forecastle. His quick humour and gifted capacity to entertain and amuse endeared him to everybody. A born musician, he could play on almost any instrument, sing comic songs, and step-dance as well as any professional. His great weakness was love of gay company and grog. He belonged to very well-to-do, highly respectable people; and their sorrow at his supposed death was very bitter. His mother declared that the light had gone out of her life, and begged me never to cease trying to find out when on my voyages whether he was alive or not. The old lady said she feared the worst, but never ceased to pray and hope that some day he would be brought back to them. A little over a year had elapsed since the fateful night of his disappearance. I was on my second voyage in the same vessel, but had been promoted to boatswain. We had rounded Matapan with a snoring breeze on the port beam. We had just opened the Gulf of Nauplia out when the look-out man shouted, 'A vessel on the port bow!' She was carrying full sail, and steering towards us. We soon discerned that she was on an unfriendly errand, and that the intention was to try and board us. No one could be seen about the decks except the helmsman and a man apparently on the look out. If we altered our course she did the same; and whichever way we went, her sailing qualities outmatched ours. The excitement had grown to fever heat, as a great conflict was now imminent. Our men had been supplied with muskets, and told to conceal themselves and use them when the critical time came, and to make sure that every shot was effectual. Two small cannon, which were fixtures on the taffrail, were loaded ready to do service. At last she came within hailing distance of our weather beam. A man shouted through a speaking-trumpet in mongrel English to 'Heave to!' We did not heed this insolent command, but kept going. In a few minutes more a peremptory command came through the speaking-trumpet to 'Heave to, or we would be fired upon.'

"'Now's the time,' hissed our captain; 'we will do some damage to ourselves, but, by God, we'll teach them to order an English ship to be hove to! We must run right into his midships. I will give the order at the proper moment. The thing must be done with the suddenness of fork lightning. It is not the shooting so much as the sinking, and the panic that must be created by the suddenness of our action. 'Hard down the helm!' cried the captain. 'Let go your weather braces, and stand by to use your muskets and bayonets too if any of them attempt to board us.' In less than a minute the pirate schooner's doom was sealed. Our vessel struck her with such force amidships that she sank almost immediately. Instead of tacking their vessel, and getting out of our way, which they might have done, they were encouraged to fight; and the man who didn't was the man who has attracted your attention to-night. So far as we could tell, only himself and three of the Greeks were saved. They jumped aboard unarmed, and Jack, or 'Curly' as he was called, shouted out to me and the captain who he was. We were dumbfounded. He hastily told us how he had managed to bring about the disastrous results to the pirates, and asked the captain to put the Greeks, or whatever they were, into a boat and set them adrift. This was promptly agreed to, but before the painter was let go one of the sailors asked permission to shoot the beggars before they left, to prevent them killing somebody else. But our captain only laughed and ordered them from alongside. After cordially shaking hands with the captain and all the crew, Jack requested to be allowed to assist in clearing away the wreckage caused by the collision, and fixing the spare jib-boom, for that was the only spar carried away. Jack told us the pirates thought they had a soft thing on, as we seemed so undecided what to do, and that we could not have adopted a better move than we did. 'There is nothing frightens them like panic, and I played up to it as near as I could; but, by thunder! I played a high game. I stood to be shot by either you or my Christian friends,' said Jack; 'and upon my soul I feel that I have played them a dirty trick.' 'Not a bit of it,' said I. 'You have done your country, and especially us, a great service by helping to rid the world of a few murderous thieves and cunning assassins.'

"'Oh, damn it!' interjected Jack, 'I cannot allow you to call us such villanous names as that. My late friends considered their trade quite as honourable as yours. They knew that they were breaking the law by carrying on a game of what is called pillage or brigandage at sea; but then they thought the law was all wrong, and that it was unlawful to enforce such restrictions, or put any penalty on freedom of action. And, by Jove! their arguments were almost convincing; especially when we had to fight for what we wanted, and got wounded.'

"'I see that you have got scars on your cheek and hands. Were they received by encounter with some ship's crew?'

"'Yes,' said Jack, 'but not my own countrymen. It was a deadly fight.' And then he became pensive. I could see his mind was working, but he refused to be drawn into further conversation; and from that day to this I have not been able to get anything more out of him on that score. Though when he is in the mood, he relates the comical side of the sea-rovers' life in a most fascinating way, and frankly admits the better side to have a charm about it that only those who have lived the life can know. 'But,' he would add, 'I would rather stand here and ask that I might be shot if I thought there was any possibility of ever becoming one of them again. On the criminal side it resembles hell's tatterdemalions let loose. To call them thieves and murderers is to flatter them. Their vicious scoundrelism transcends either murder or thieving.'"

The hero of this sensational story was a well-built young fellow of twenty-three or twenty-four years old; he stood about five feet nine, and had the appearance of being possessed of great physical power; his cleanshaven face disclosed a beautiful mouth and two fine rows of teeth; his chin and nose indicated robust strength of character, and his large blue eyes, sparkling under well-formed eyebrows and a massive forehead, both spoke and laughed in a fascinating way while his tongue was speechless. In short, he was a good-looking, typical sailor, whose natural gifts made him popular and much sought after to amuse his comrades by doing a step-dance, telling a funny yarn, singing a comic song, or he would entertain them by reading from a book.