Фредерик Марриет
Percival Keene
To windward, as the smoke occasionally cleared away, I saw the Arrow schooner close hauled on the same tack as the Stella, and distant about a mile, every ten seconds the smoke from her guns booming along the water’s surface, and the shot whizzing through our rigging; she had not suffered much from our fire: her sails were full of shot-holes, it is true, but her spars were not injured. I then turned my eyes upon the masts and rigging of the Stella: apparently, the damage done was about equal to that received by the Arrow; our sails were torn, but our spars were unscathed.
The water was smooth, although the breeze was fresh, and both schooners were running at the rate of six or seven miles an hour; but the Stella had evidently the advantage of sailing, and fore-reached upon her opponent. I perceived that everything depended upon a lucky hit and having satisfied myself with what I had seen, I hastened down below.
For more than half an hour the firing continued without advantage on either side, when a yell was given by the negro crew, and I heard them cry on the deck that the Arrow’s foretop-mast was shot away. I heard the voice of Vincent cheering his men, and telling them to be steady in their aim. My heart sunk at the intelligence, and I sat down on a chest.
The firing now slackened, for the Stella had shot ahead of the English schooner, and the negroes on deck were laughing and in high good-humour. For a few minutes the firing ceased altogether, and I took it for granted that the Stella had left her pursuers far behind; when of a sudden, a whole broadside of guns were poured into us, and there was a terrible crashing and confusion on the deck.
I ran up the ladder to see what had happened. It appeared that as the Stella was crossing the bows of the Arrow, the latter had, as a last chance thrown up in the wind, and discharged her whole broadside into us: two shots had struck our mainmast, which had fallen by the board. I perceived at once that the Stella’s chance was over—nothing could save her; she might resist the schooner but could not escape the frigate.
I ran down below, and went into the cabin; I was afraid that the negroes might perceive the joy in my countenance. I heard the angry voice of the negro captain—I heard him stamping with rage, and I thanked God that I was not by his side. The wreck of the mast was soon cleared away; I heard him address his negroes, point out to them that it was better to die like men at the guns, than swing at the yard-arm like dogs. Some of them came down and took on deck a quarter-cask of spirits, which was plentifully supplied to all.
The English schooner had borne down upon us, and the action now commenced at pistol-shot. Never shall I forget what took place for nearly three-quarters of an hour; the negroes, most of them intoxicated, fought with rage and fury indescribable—their shouts—their screams—their cursing and blasphemy, mingled with the loud report of the guns, the crashing of the spars and bulwarks, the occasional cry of the wounded, and the powerful voice of Vincent. It was terrific between decks; the smoke was so thick, that those who came down for the powder could not see, but felt their way to the screen. Every two seconds, I heard the men come aft, toss off the can of liquor, and throw it on the deck, hen they went to resume their labour at their guns.
At the end of the time I have mentioned, the shot flew from to leeward, as well as from to windward: the frigate had got within range, and was pouring in her broadside; still the firing and the shouting on the deck of the Stella continued, but the voices were fewer; and as the firing of the frigate became more severe, they became fainter and fainter; and at last but an occasional gun was fired from our decks.
I became so uneasy, that I could remain where I was no longer; I went forward on the lower deck again, and tumbling over the wounded and the dead, I crept up the fore-ladder. I looked over the coamings of the hatchway; the decks were clear of smoke, for not a gun was being fired. Merciful Heaven! what a scene of slaughter! Many of the guns were dismantled, and the decks were strewed with the splinters and plankings of the gunwale, broken spars, and negroes lying dead, or drunk, in all directions—some cut and torn to pieces, others whole, but mixed up with the fragments of other bodies: such a scene of blood I have never since witnessed. Out of the whole crew, I do not think there were twenty men left unhurt, and these were leaning or lying down, exhausted with fatigue or overcome with liquor, on various parts of the deck.
The fighting was over; there was not one man at his gun—and of those who remained still alive, one or two fell, while I was looking up from the shot, which continued every minute to pierce the bulwarks. Where was Vincent? I dare not go aft to see. I dare not venture to meet his eye. I dived down below again, and I returned aft to the cabin; there was no more demand for powder; not a soul was to be seen abaft. Suddenly the after-hatchway grating was thrown off; I heard some one descend; I knew it was the hurried tread of the negro captain. It was so dark, and the cabin so full of smoke, that, coming from the light, he did not perceive me, although I could distinguish him. He was evidently badly wounded, and tottered in his walk: he came into the cabin, put his hand to his girdle, and felt for his pistol, and then he commenced pulling down the screen, which was between him and the magazine. His intentions were evident; which were to blow up the vessel.
I felt that I had not a moment to lose. I dashed past him, ran up the ladder, sprung aft to the taffrail, and dashed over the stern into the sea. I was still beneath the surface, having not yet risen from my plunge, when I heard and felt the explosion—felt it, indeed, so powerfully, that it almost took away my senses; so great was the shock, even when I was under the water, that I was almost insensible. I have a faint recollection of being drawn down by the vortex of the sinking vessel, and scrambling my way to the surface of the water, amidst fragments of timbers and whirling bodies. When I recovered myself, I found that I was clinging to a portion of the wreck, in a sort of patch, as it were, upon the deep blue water, dark as ink, and strewed with splintered fragments.
There I remained some minutes, during which time I gained my recollection: I looked around and perceived the Arrow schooner, lying about one hundred yards off, totally dismantled, and my own frigate about a quarter of a mile to leeward, as bright and as fresh as if she had just been refitted. I observed a signal, made by the Calliope to the schooner, which was answered. I looked in vain towards the schooner, expecting her to lower down a boat. The fact was, that the Calliope had made the signal for her to do so, and the schooner had replied that she had no boat that could swim. I then perceived that the frigate had lowered down a boat which was pulling towards me, and I considered myself as safe.
In a few minutes, during which I had quite recovered myself, the boat pulled into the mass of floating fragments, and then the sailors ceased rowing to look about them. They perceived and pulled towards me—hoisted me in over the gunwale, and laid me at the bottom of the boat. I scrambled on my feet, and would have gone aft, when the midshipman of the boat said to the men, “Pass that cursed young pirate forward—don’t let him come aft here.”
“Oh, oh, Mr Lascelles,” thinks I—“so you don’t know me; you shall know me by-and-by.” I quite forgot that I was stained black, till one of the men who seized me by the collar to pass me forward, said, “Hand along the nigger. He’s a young one for the gallows, any how.”
They handed me forward, and I did not choose to say who I was. My love of fun returned the moment that I was again with my shipmates. After looking well round and ascertaining that I was the only one left alive, they pulled back to the frigate; and the midshipman went up to report. I was handed up the side and remained at the break of the gangway, while the captain and first lieutenant were talking with Mr Lascelles: during which Mr Tommy Dott came up to me, and, putting his finger to his left ear, gave a cluck with his tongue, as much as to say, “You’ll be hanged, my good fellow.”
I could not help giving the first mason’s sign which I taught to Mr Green in return for Tommy’s communication; to wit, putting my thumb to my nose, and extending my finger out towards him; at which Tommy Dott expressed much indignation, and called me a precious impudent varmin. The men who were near us laughed, and said that I was game at all events. No one knew me; for not only was my face well stained, but I was covered from head to foot with a solution of salt water and gunpowder, which made me still more indistinguishable.
I had remained at the gangway about two minutes, when the first lieutenant said, “Bring the prisoner here.”
I immediately went aft; and as soon as I was standing before Captain Delmar and the first lieutenant—(and behind were all the officers, anxious to hear what I had to disclose)—I put my hand to my head, having no hat, as may be supposed, and said, “Come on board, sir,” reporting myself, as is usually the custom of officers when they return from leave or duty.
“Good Heavens! that voice!—why, who are you?” cried Captain Delmar, starting back a pace.
“Mr Keene, sir,” replied I, again putting my hand to my head.
Bob Cross, who was, with many of the seamen, close to me, quite forgetting etiquette, ran up and caught me round the waist, looking me full in the face: “It is him, sir—it is him! Huzzah! huzzah!” and all the seamen joined in the huzzahs, which were, however, mingled with a great deal of laughter.
“Merciful Heaven! and so you have been blown up in that vessel,” said the first lieutenant, coming to me, with great kindness. “Are you much burnt? Why, he’s quite black—where’s the surgeon?”
“Aren’t hurt at all, sir,” replied I.
“Let him be taken down and examined,” said the captain with some emotion; “if not hurt, let him come into the cabin to me.”
The captain went down the ladder, and then I shook hands with Tommy Dott and all the other officers and midshipmen; and I will say that my re-appearance appeared to give unusual satisfaction. I went down into the gun-room and was stripped. They were much surprised to find that I was not hurt, and even more when they discovered that I was black all over, and that washing would not restore my colour.
“Why, Keene,” said the first lieutenant, “how is it that you have changed your colour?”
“Oh, sir, I’ve been playing the nigger for these last three months. It is a long story, but I will go with you to the captain, and I will tell it there.”
As soon as I had put on my uniform, I went up with Mr Hippesley to the cabin, and having, at the captain’s request, taken a chair, I entered into a full explanation, which lasted more than an hour.
As soon as I had finished, Mr Hippesley who had plenty to do on deck, but who could not leave until he had heard my story, quitted the cabin, and I found myself alone with the captain.
“I must say that I gave you up for lost,” said Captain Delmar; “the boat’s crew were picked up the next morning, and reported that you were drowned in the cabin of the vessel. Scoundrels, to desert you in that way.”
“I do not think they were to blame, sir; the water being so high in the cabin, and my not answering to their call.”
“But did they call you?”
“Yes, sir; I heard them call when I was half asleep, and I did not answer.”
“Well, I am glad to hear you say so; but so convinced have we been of your loss, that I have written to your mother on the subject. Strange, this is the second time that she has been distressed in this way. You appear to have a charmed life, Mr Keene.”
“I hope I shall long live to do credit to your protection, sir,” replied I.
“I hope so too, Mr Keene,” replied the captain, very kindly; “I sincerely hope so too. In all this business you have conducted yourself very manfully. It does you great credit, and your mother ought to be proud of you.”
“Thanky, sir,” replied I, for I was overjoyed at such language from Captain Delmar, and I thought to myself, if he says my mother ought be proud of me, he feels so himself.
“Of course, you cannot do duty under such a masquerade as you are at present,” continued the captain, who referred to my stained skin. “I presume it will wear off by-and-by. You will dine with me to-day; now you may go to your messmates.”
I left the cabin, bowing very respectfully, and pleased with what had occurred. I hastened to join my messmates, not, however, until I had shaken hands with Bob Cross, who appeared as delighted to see me as if he was my father.
I leave the reader to imagine the sort of levee which I held both on the quarter-deck and below. Mr Hippesley could not get any of the officers to mind their duty. I certainly was for two or three days the greatest personage in the ship. After that, I had time to tell the whole of my history quietly to Bob Cross.
Bob Cross, when he had heard me without interruption, said, “Well, Master Keene, there’s no telling what a man’s born to till after he’s dead, and then it’s all known: but it does appear to me that you are born to something out of the common. Here you are, not sixteen, not only playing a man’s part, but playing it manfully. You have been put in most difficult situations, and always have fallen upon your feet in the end. You appear to have an old head upon very young shoulders; at one moment to be a scampish boy full of mischief, and at another a resolute, cool, and clever man. Sarcumstances, they say, make men, and so it appears in you; but it does seem strange for one and the same lad to be stealing the purser’s plums at one moment, and twisting a devil of a nigger pirate round his finger the very next; and then you have had such escapes—twice reported dead at head-quarters, and twice come to life again. Now Master Keene, I’ve very good news to tell you: you don’t know how high you stand with the captain and officers: there’s a feeling of envy against a lad who goes ahead (as well as a man) which blinds people to his real merits; but when he is supposed to be dead and gone, and no longer in the way of others, then every one tells the real truth; and I do assure you that not only the officers, but the captain himself, grieved most sorely at your loss. I saw the captain’s eyes wink more than once when speaking of you, and the first lieutenant was always telling the other mids that he had not one worth his salt, now that you were gone. And now that you have come back and gained so much credit for what has passed, I do really think that the captain is proud of you. I overheard a little conversation between the captain and first lieutenant the day you came on board, after you had been in the cabin telling your adventures, and all that I can say is, that the game is in your own hands, if you only play your cards well, and never let Captain Delmar have the least idea that you know that you have such claims upon him.”
“That I certainly will not,” replied I, “as it might check his feeling towards me.”
“Exactly: I’ve often thought about you, and now that I like you so much, I watch the captain for your sake, and listen particularly to what he says after dinner especially, when I’ve the opportunity; for you see, when gentlemen drink wine, they speak more freely as to what they really think, just as we foremast-men do when we get our grog on board. The greatest misfortune which could happen to you in your position would be, the captain marrying and having children on the right side of the blanket as they call it. Now I’ve often heard the captain express a dislike to matrimony, and laugh at people’s getting married, which has pleased me very much for your sake, Master Percival. You see, a man don’t think much of marrying after forty, and the captain must be fifty, if not more.”
“Yes: but if his brother dies—and he is a very infirm man—the captain will then be Viscount de Versely, and inherit very large estates, and then he will marry to have an heir to the title and estates even if there is no love in the case.”
“So he may,” replied Cross—“there’s no saying; but still, even if he does, it ain’t certain that he has a family; chickens must not be counted before they are hatched. All you have to pray for then is, that the brother may prove as tough as our old admirals, whose senses get tired of staying any longer in their bodies, and leave them long before their hulks are worn out.”
“Why do admirals live so long?”
“Well, I suppose it is for the same reason that salt meat keeps so much longer than fresh; they have been forty or fifty years with the salt spray washing in their faces and wetting their jackets, and so in time, d’ye see, they become as it were pickled with brine. Talking about that, how long will it be before you get that tanning off you?”
“I don’t know; but as the captain says I’m to do no duty while it lasts, I hope it won’t wear off too soon.”
“Spoken like a midshipman: now take my advice, although not ordered to your duty, come up on deck and take your spy-glass.”
“I’ve lost it, unfortunately. That was a good glass, for it saved my life.”
“Yes, it turned out as good for you as a Freemason’s sign, which is more than Mr Green can say. I don’t think he’ll ever make a sailor—he’d better bear up for clerk, and then he might do very well for a purser by-and-by. There’s eight bells, Master Keene, so I think we had better say good night.”
Chapter Twenty
The Arrow schooner had suffered very severely in the contest, having lost her commanding officer and thirteen men killed and wounded: indeed, had not the Calliope been at hand, it was the general opinion that the Stella would have overpowered her, notwithstanding that the latter had lost her mainmast, for the Arrow was completely dismantled, and would not have been able to have made sail.
The Calliope sent her carpenters and best seamen on board to repair her damages, and the next day we stood away for Port Royal, Jamaica, to announce the destruction of the pirate vessel.
In the morning Captain Delmar sent for me.
“Mr Keene, as you cannot do duty for the present, and as I do not wish you to be idle, I think you had better pay a little attention to navigation. You send in your day’s work, I perceive, but I suppose you have never regularly gone through a course of study.”
“No, sir,” replied I; “I fudge my day’s work, and I should be very glad to learn navigation properly.”
“So I presume. Well, then, I have spoken with Mr Smith, the master, who has promised me to give you the necessary instruction. You will commence to-morrow; you can sit at the table in the fore-cabin, where you will have nothing to distract your attention. You may go now.”
I bowed and left the cabin, and meeting Bob Cross on the main deck, I told him what the captain had said.
“I’m glad of it, Master Keene; it shows that the captain does now take a strong interest in you. He has never taken any trouble of that kind with any midshipman before. It will be of great service to you, so pay attention; it will please the captain if the master gives a good report of you. Who knows but you may be sent away in a prize, and I sent with you to take care of you? Wouldn’t that be a capital spree?”
The next day I commenced accordingly, under the tuition of the master, and as I had not Tommy Dott to play with, I gave satisfaction, and continued to do so until our arrival at Port Royal, when the captain went up to the admiral’s, stating all the particulars of the action, and, by way of sequel, my adventures on board of the pirate vessel. The admiral was so much interested that he requested Captain Delmar to bring me on shore to dine with me the next day.
I was still very black; but that made me, I presume more interesting. I told my story over again, and it afforded great amusement to the company; particularly to the ladies; and I have reason to believe that many compliments were paid me behind my back, by the admiral and officers who dined there; at all events, Captain Delmar was much pleased.
My strange history soon got wind. The governor heard of it, and asked Captain Delmar about it. The consequence was, that I received another invitation from the governor, and Captain Delmar again informed me that I might tell my own story, which I did, modestly as before. I say modestly, for I never was a boaster at any time; and I really believe that I thought much less of the circumstances than those did to whom I narrated them. I had at that time but one wish, which was to find favour in the sight of Captain Delmar. I felt that all my prospects in life depended upon that; and aware of his disposition, and the deference that he expected, humility had become, as it were, habitual.
During the time that we remained at Port Royal I continued my studies in the cabin and as the captain remained almost altogether on shore, I found the run of the cabin very pleasant; but as I had no inclination to study the whole of the day, I was not sorry that Tommy Dott was very often my companion in the cabin, an entrance to which, as he could not pass the sentry at the door, he obtained by climbing down the mizen chains, and creeping into the port windows. As soon as the captain’s boat was seen coming off Tommy was out again by the port as quick as a monkey, and I was very studiously poring over right-angled triangles. I rose, of course, as the captain entered the cabin. “Sit down, Mr Keene,” he would say—“sit down; the master has reported favourably of you, and I am glad to hear of it.”
One morning, when, as usual, Tommy Dott had come through the port, we were so busily employed with a caricature which we were making of old Culpepper, that the captain’s boat came alongside without our being aware of it, and the captain’s voice speaking to the first lieutenant as he was descending the after-ladder was the first intimation we received of his being on board.
It was impossible for Tommy Dott to escape without being seen as he climbed out. The table which was in the centre of the cabin was covered with a blue cloth, large enough for the table when all the additional leaves were put to it, and in its present reduced size the cloth fell down to the deck; I pointed it out to Tommy, as the sentry’s hand upon the handle of the door announced the immediate entrance of the captain, and he darted underneath the table, that he might escape detection intending as soon as the captain went into the after-cabin to make his retreat by the cabin-door or windows. The captain entered, and I rose, as usual, from my chair.
“Mr Keene,” said he, “I have occasion to speak to the first lieutenant on important private business; oblige me by leaving the cabin till that is done. You may as well tell Mr Hippesley that I wish to see him.”
“Yes, sir,” replied I making a bow, and leaving the cabin. I felt very much alarmed lest Tommy should be discovered in his hiding-place; and after the captain had stated that he had particular business with the first lieutenant, it was my duty, knowing that Mr Dott was there, to have said so. I hardly knew what to do, or how to act. After all, it was no great crime as it stood. Tommy Dott had come into the cabin without leave, and had concealed himself; but if I was to allow Tommy to remain there and listen to important and particular business, evidently of a secret nature, I should forfeit the good opinion and confidence of the captain: nevertheless, I was very unwilling to betray him; I was dreadfully puzzled, and when I went to the first lieutenant he perceived my confusion.
“Why, what is the matter with you, Mr Keene?—you look quite frightened,” said he.
“Well, sir, I am,” replied I; “and I think it my duty to tell you why I am so.”
I then informed him that Tommy Dott was under the cabin-table, and would, of course, hear the secret communications of the captain.
“You have done very right, Mr Keene, and I know how unpleasant it is to you to inform against your messmate; but at present there is no harm done.”
He then laughed, and said, “However, Mr Dott shall never know that you have said anything about it, and I will frighten him out of the cabin for the future.”
He then went down the ladder, and into the fore-cabin. I expected that he would have discovered Tommy as if by accident, but such was not the case. The captain had just gone into the after-cabin, and Mr Hippesley immediately followed him, and shutting the door, informed him of Mr Dott’s position, and why I had made it known. The captain could not help laughing, as, after all, it was no great offence.
He then gave the necessary information to the first lieutenant, and they both walked into the fore-cabin; the first lieutenant saying, “If you please, then, Captain Delmar, I will send a boat immediately with the letter.”
“Certainly,” replied the captain, sitting down, and who evidently was inclined to join in the joke with Mr Hippesley. “Sentry, send the officer on deck to man the jolly-boat, and tell Mr Dott to come here immediately.”
I was on deck when the sentry put his head up the ladder and gave the order, and I immediately perceived the plan of the first lieutenant and the state of alarm in which Tommy Dott must have been put.
The jolly-boat was manned, and Mr Dott called for in every quarter of the ship, but he did not make his appearance. After a delay of several minutes, the officer on deck went down into the cabin, reporting that the jolly-boat had been manned some time but that Mr Dott was not to be found.
“Not to be found!” replied the captain; “why, he can’t have fallen overboard.”
“Not he, sir,” replied the first lieutenant; “he has gone to sleep somewhere: either in the tops or the fore-topmast staysail netting.”
“He appears to be a very troublesome boy,” replied the captain.
“Very useless, indeed, sir,” replied the first lieutenant. “Sentry, have they found Mr Dott?”
“No, sir; quarter-masters have been everywhere. He’s not in the ship.”
“Very odd!” observed the captain.
“Oh! he’ll turn up soon, sir; but really, Captain Delmar, if you were to give him two or three dozen at the cabin gun, it would bring him to his senses.”
“That I most certainly will do,” replied Captain Delmar; “and I authorise you to do it, Mr Hippesley, as soon as he makes his appearance; it will be of some service to him; but I hope no accident has happened to him.”
“I have no fear of that, sir,” replied the first lieutenant: “if the purser’s steward’s room had been open to-day, I should have sent to see if he was not locked up in another attempt to steal raisins, but that has not been the case. By-the-by, the spirit-room was open this morning, and he may have been down there, and may have had the hatches put over him.”
“Well, we must send another midshipman; call Mr Keene,” said Captain Delmar.
The sentry called me, and I made my appearance.
“Mr Keene, you’ll go on shore to the dockyard in the jolly-boat: give that letter to the master attendant, and wait for an answer.”
“Yes, sir,” replied I.
“Have you seen anything of Mr Dott?” said the first lieutenant; “you are constantly together.”
“I saw him just before Captain Delmar came on board, sir, but I have not seen him since.”
“Well, well, we will settle accounts with the young gentleman as soon as he turns up,” replied the captain: “you may go, Mr Keene.”
I perceived that the captain and first lieutenant both smiled as I left the cabin. It appeared that soon after they left it and the captain went on shore; but Tommy was so frightened that he remained in his hiding-place, as he made sure he would be flogged if he made his appearance, and he resolved to remain where he was until my return, that he might consult me.
As soon as I had reported myself, and given the answer to the first lieutenant, I hastened to the cabin, and then poor Tommy crawled from under the table; the tears were still wet on his cheeks.
“I shall be flogged, Keene, as sure as I stand here. Tell me, what can I do—what can I say?”
“Tell the truth; that’s the best way,” replied I.
“Tell the captain that I was hid under the table! that would never do.”
“Depend upon it, it’s the best plan,” replied I; “and it is the only advice I can give you: you may be flogged if you tell the truth, but you are sure to be flogged if you tell a lie. It will only add to your offence.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it—I’m sure that Mr Hippesley will flog me if he catches me to-day or to-morrow; but if I remain hid for a day or two, they will really think that I have fallen overboard, and then they will say, ‘poor Tommy Dott,’ and perhaps be so glad when I do make my appearance, that they will forgive me.”
“Yes,” replied I, delighted at the idea; “I’m sure they will, if you do tell the truth when you appear again.”
“Then, that is what I’ll do. The first lieutenant said that I might be in the spirit-room. Where shall I go to?”
“Why,” said I, “you must remain under the table till dark, and then you may easily slip down into the coal-hole, where it is so dark that they never will see you, even if they go down for coals. It is the only place I know of; stay there all to-morrow and next day, and come up in the evening; or the next morning perhaps will be better.”
“Well, it’s a very good place,” replied Tommy; “anything better than being flogged; but will you bring me something to eat and drink?”
“Depend upon me, Tommy,” replied I; “I’ll contrive to bring you something every night.”
“Well, then, I’ll do that,” replied he.
“Yes; and tell the truth when you come out,” said I.
“Yes, upon my honour I will;” and so saying, Tommy, hearing a noise, again dived under the cabin table.
Soon afterwards I went out of the cabin. The first lieutenant beckoned me to him, and asked me where Mr Dott was, and I told him what had been arranged between us. He laughed very much, and said—
