Part 10

"I took to wine as a friend in need; Woman and wine! woman and wine! I took to wine as a friend in need, And have ever since found it a friend indeed, Which nothing on earth could be brought to exceed, Or made so completely mine: In Fortune's smile, and in Fortune's frown, It laid me up, and it laid me down; And went to my heart by a way of its own, Woman and wine! woman and wine!

"Oh, woman and wine are capital things-- Woman and wine! woman and wine! Woman and wine are capital things, In gladness or care to man's soul ever springs, To which each its own perfect felicity brings; And long may such pleasures combine: And he who would ever, by night or by day, In sorrow or joy, turn from either away, Should never in better men's company stay, Woman and wine! woman and wine!"

While his associates were wildly shouting, in a dozen different keys, the burthen of the song, Log, in whom the exertion of singing had destroyed the little sense he had remaining, as he was swinging his body back, lost his balance, pitched head over heels off his seat, and then rolled under the table, in a state of complete insensibility.

CHAP. VIII.

THE PIRATES.

"'Tis a lovely night!" observed Oriel Porphyry, as he stood upon the deck of the Albatross, watching the fast receding shores of Africa.

"Indeed it is," said his companion. "The air is filled with beauty, and there is an eloquent glory in the stars that speaks marvels of wisdom. See how the rolling waves rush on, bathed with the trembling light from above them--so do the multitudinous hearts within the world send forth their tide, each illumined by glimpses of a heaven of its own. The planets look down upon the waters, and from their mighty mirror drink in the images of their own loveliness--just as the maiden venturing to gaze into the glowing eyes of the youth of whom she is enamoured, sees in their depths the reflection of her own beauty, and lingers delighted within the influence of the charm she herself created. But what a philanthropist is the world! A universal spirit of love exists around us, and beneath its outstretched wings throbs the everlasting heart of the universe, distributing through its rosy channels that refreshing stream which is the life, the strength, the humanity of nature. What a wonder is the world! All within the boundless circle of infinity, with a harmony of soul-entrancing modulations, tune the same music to the ear. Systems of worlds, and worlds of systems--each earth blessed with its own sun, moon, and stars, that fill its atmosphere with gladness, and its waters with delight, rejoicing in the abundance in which it rears its countless offspring, that draw their verdure, their fragrance, and their consummate grace, from the exhaustless nourishment of its breast, rolls on in one unvarying course, carrying with it the fond desires of youth, the proud ambition of manhood, and the peaceful speculations of age; while, as the stream of Time progresses on its way to float them into the shoreless ocean of Eternity, its own nature, keeping a continual change in all things which have from it their existence, from the beginning hath followed its particular path in the glad possession of a perpetual youth. What a gladness is the world! There is not a creature born of its most fruitful womb that is not taught to slake its thirst and bathe its buoyant limbs in the fountain of delight that flows for all. Smiles and flowers are about us from our infancy. The air breathes of gladness. The clear firmament looks down on us in bliss. The leaves that quiver in the breeze dance for joy, and the stream that wandereth on its way singeth its own merry tune. The voice of song murmurs a continual carol that stirs the hearts of the antique forest trees, and the echoes of the mighty hills--in swelling tones the vigorous wind joins in the thrilling harmony--and as the natural concert rises into power, into its gladdening sounds the deep sea roars its triumphant chorus."

"You are eloquent, Zabra!" remarked Oriel, gazing with wondering eyes upon the handsome countenance of his companion, which appeared more than usually excited.

"'T is a fit time, and a most fitting subject for eloquence," he replied; "and if the soul hath such impulses, never were they more likely to be called into action than on such an occasion, and with such a theme as I have now. We are again upon the sea. That is sufficient impetus for the thought. We have left the dwellings of men whose souls were devoted to the mere scraping together wealth they would not use for any benefit to their fellow-creatures, and could not expend with any happiness to themselves."

"Ay, I am glad I have escaped from the place," said the young merchant. "It has given me every thing but a favourable impression of the pleasures of traffic. Each person I met seemed anxiously intent upon cheating me; and, if I had not been carefully attentive to my father's instructions, before I had left their filthy town I should have been plundered of every bale of goods in my possession. As for Master Boor, he is as fine a sample of deliberate roguery as I ever met with."

"He is worse than that, or I am much mistaken," remarked Zabra, earnestly. "I have not been able to collect sufficient proof, but I strongly suspect, from observation I have made, that he is connected with your captain, whom he praised so much, in some deep-laid scheme of treachery, of which you are to be the sufferer."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Oriel. "That Boor would cheat his own father, I believe; but I don't think he would act the villain, except in the general routine of business:--as for Compass, there's no harm in him--the freedom of his language and the unprepossessing character of his manners are likely to create an unfavourable impression in any observer. Besides, he is alone in the ship, or nearly so. He is not at all popular with the crew, and were he to attempt any thing, the majority would rise in my favour. No, no, Zabra, your suspicions must be groundless."

"Who are those strange men that have come on board?" asked his companion, in a whisper.

"Those in long frocks and straw hats? They are some poor agricultural labourers that have begged a free passage from the captain, which, at his desire, I have granted."

"I have received information, through the boy Loop, from old Hearty, whose fidelity I can depend on, that these men are not what they appear to be; that they are evidently sailors, and, from their countenances alone, I should imagine that they are here for no good purpose," said Zabra.

"Ha!" exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, for the first time entertaining a suspicion of the captain's intentions.

"Hush!" whispered Zabra, clutching his companion firmly at the arm, while the expression of his features became intensely anxious.

"Heard you that?"

It was a stifled scream. While both listened in great excitement, it was followed by a discharge of fire-arms, a clashing of weapons, shouts, imprecations, and yells of agony; and immediately afterwards Hearty, Boggle, Ardent, Climberkin, and about half a dozen others, rushed upon deck, followed by Captain Compass, Scrumpydike, and the gang of ruffians described in the last chapter, fighting furiously; and, though streaming blood from many wounds, obstinately disputing every inch of ground.

"I have no weapon, but I must find one!" cried the young merchant, attempting to break from his companion.

"Move not for your life, Oriel," said his companion, earnestly, as he held him more firmly. "You can only be slaughtered, without conferring the slightest assistance, for see, the unequal struggle is over."

A loud cheer from the ruffians proclaimed the truth of Zabra's intimation. The faithful few were either killed, or so wounded as to be unable to continue the contest, and the victors were rejoicing at their triumph. Oriel Porphyry was not allowed many moments to consider of what he had best do, when Compass, Scrumpydike, and two or three of their associates, came hastily towards the place where he stood, flourishing their bloody weapons, and shouting their riotous hurras.

"Captain Compass!" exclaimed Oriel proudly, as the party advanced, "what is the meaning of this bloodshed?"

"Beg your pardon, Master Porphyry," he replied, "I have the honour of being Captain Death; ey, boys?" said he turning to his men, and the appeal was answered by a noisy demonstration of applause. "Yes, I am Captain Death, the most distinguished leader of the Free Mariners in these seas; and I beg to inform you, that I now hold the ship and all it contains for the benefit of myself and brave companions; ey, boys?" and the inquiry met with a similar reply.

"And I begs to add to what the cap'ain says," observed Scrumpydike, giving his ugly countenance a more ludicrous twist than ever, "that I'm Leevetenant Rifle, very much at your sarvice, gennlemen; and if you has the slightest 'clination to end your miserable lives, I'll do the job handsome, and to show my respect for ye, wo'n't charge ye nothin'"--a riotous roar of laughter followed.

"You need not be afraid, Master Gloomy," cried the captain, noticing that Zabra trembled as he clung to Oriel Porphyry--"your pretty countenance shan't be spoilt just yet, at any rate, if you behave yourself; and as for you, Master Porphyry! your life shall be spared, and those of your men who may have survived this conflict, on condition that you follow my directions regarding your conduct; but the slightest show of disobedience will be punished with instant death to yourself and all who belong to you."

By this time Professor Fortyfolios and Doctor Tourniquet had hurried upon deck, and with much appearance of apprehension had joined the group.

"What is this dispute about, captain?" asked the professor, looking fearfully upon the threatening faces he saw around him. "Let us argue the matter coolly."

"The dispute is settled, Professor Fortyfolios, and these are my arguments," said the pirate, pointing to the bloody weapons of his companions. The professor was convinced without inquiry; and the perspiration seemed to break out over his bald head as if he had taken a shower bath.

"This looks very much like an act of piracy, don't you see," remarked the incautious Tourniquet.

"So like, that there can be no difference," replied the pirate; "and you look as if you had a great desire for a swing from the fore-yard arm, or a plunge under the bows, don't you see. But you are too useful at present, so look to the wounded, Doctor Tourniquet, or I'll have you hanged before you can suspect any thing about it."

The doctor's ruddy features grew pale with fear, and he made his way to his patients without loss of time.

"Master Porphyry, you had better go to your cabin," said the captain, "and your shadow may go with you; but if I notice any treachery in either, you shall not have time to say a prayer." The friends left the deck together without a reply.

"And now, boys, hey for Madagascar; and as this job's done, you may set your hearts afloat as much as you like." A cheer followed the announcement--the liquor was soon in requisition; and the pirates became so incapable of taking care of themselves, that if the defenders of the ship who were alive had not been disabled by their wounds, the Albatross might have been retaken the same evening.

The wounded men were lying where they had fallen when the doctor arrived amongst them. In a moment his fear for himself disappeared in his anxiety for the poor fellows who so much required his assistance.

"Here, Loop!" he cried as soon as he noticed the lad, unhurt, endeavouring to support his wounded relative. "Run into my cabin, and you will find on the table there a case of instruments, bring them here, look in at the cook room as you return, and ask Roly Poly to let me have a basin of warm water instantly, for I have immediate want for it, don't you see." The boy, with tears in his eyes, left old Hearty to the care of the surgeon, and hastened to obey his instructions.

"Well, old friend!" exclaimed he, taking the sailor by the hand, "where are you hurt? Ah, I perceive--ugly gash in the face--don't you see--any thing else?"

"Arm cut to the bone, and shot through the body," said the man faintly.

"Bad," replied the doctor; "but cheer up. I've put worse things than that to rights, don't you see. There, let me take off your jacket. Don't exert yourself: I'll do it. You've lost a good deal of blood, my friend, and feel a little sickish or so. Never mind that. Now let me move your shirt from the wound. Tut, tut," he exclaimed, as the man seemed to shrink with pain when the linen was withdrawn from the lacerated flesh. "You must learn to bear pain, don't you see. Wo'n't hurt you more than I can help." He then minutely examined his patient's hurts. "Bad gun-shot wound that; but the bullet's taken a more favourable direction than I expected, don't you see. Ugly cut this in the arm; muscles cut through; arteries severed; requires much attention. Gash in the face don't look well, but is in no way alarming. So, old friend, cheer up; you're wounded severely, but not mortally, don't you see."

"Don't care about it, sir," replied Hearty, in a more feeble voice than usual. "Don't care if I had as many holes in me as a sieve; but to be circumwented in this here 'bominable way by a set o' rascally pirates arn't to be endured."

"Hush!" exclaimed Tourniquet, looking round him anxiously, to see if any of the victors were within hearing. "You must be cautious of what you say, don't you see."

"While I a got a breath o' wind in the canvass I'll tell 'em they're a set o' murderin' thieves," cried the brave old fellow, with all his remaining strength.

"Hush, I tell you!" said the alarmed doctor. "Do you want to have me murdered as well as yourself? Keep your tongue still, or every soul of us left alive in the ship will be massacred."

"Where's Master Porphyry?" asked the man, languidly.

"Safe," replied the surgeon.

"Glad on't. And Master Zabra, they arn't a done him no harm, the villains?" he inquired anxiously.

"Both are unhurt," said Tourniquet, in a whisper; "and the only way you can keep them so, is to remain as quiet as possible, and say nothing to incense your conquerors; and who knows, but that after you have recovered, you may have an opportunity of doing them some service, don't you see."

"The very thought a'most sets me on my legs again," observed his patient, clasping the doctor's hand affectionately.

"Hush," he exclaimed, "here comes Roly Poly and Loop, at last."

"Oh, massa!" cried the black, as he rubbed his sleepy eyes with one hand, while carrying the basin of water with the other--"Sockin' doin's! Sockin' doin's! Me was takin' bit of nap, and heard nuttin. But who'd o' ebber tort ob such obstroplousness."

"Hold your tongue, Roly Poly," said the surgeon, as he proceeded to cleanse, to dress, and bind up the wounds. "Hold your tongue, and bring the basin nearer I can't reach it, don't you see."

"Yes, massa, me see berry well," replied the fat cook, heedless of the injunction he had heard. "Sorry for poor Massa Hearty; him look done to a turn, poor fellar. Him nebber eat no more puddin'; no more soup; no more meat; no more nuttin, as Roly Poly cooks so boofliful. Sorry for him."

"Hold your tongue, sir, directly," exclaimed the doctor, with more emphasis.

"Yes, massa," responded Roly Poly, and in a moment afterwards recommenced. "Massa Hearty, him berry good man. Him eat ebry thin' me cook, and ax no 'pertinent questions. Nebber turn up him nose when him find bacca in him soup, or lump o' soap in him puddin'. Sorry for him, poor fellar."

"Will you hold your tongue, sir?" said Doctor Tourniquet, angrily, "and help to carry the patient to his hammock. Talk to him on your peril, sir. He requires rest, don't you see."

"Yes, massa," he replied, assisting to support the wounded man; but he had not proceeded a yard before his voice was heard running on as fast as ever. "Wo'n't say word more. Hate a fellar as can't hold him tongue when him told. Al'ays talkee, talkee. Mornin' till night him foolis tongue nebber hab no peace. He go talkee, talkee, to eb'ry body; foolis' fellar! Poor man, him want rest; nebber mind, him not hold him tongue bit more. Hate a fellar as can't hold him tongue when him told." And so he continued till he left old Hearty in his hammock.

The next person the doctor approached was lying on his back motionless. A brief inspection seemed sufficient. He shook his head and passed on towards a man who was supporting his back against the mast. His face was pale, and his look haggard, and he seemed trying with a handkerchief to stop the blood that was oozing from his side.

"Not much hurt, I hope?" was Doctor Tourniquet's first inquiry.

"Why, sir, I likes to have particular notions o' things in general, as every man as is a man, and thinks like a man, should have, and I must say," said he, slowly and faintly, "as I've a notion, as I'm right down reglarly spiflicated;" and immediately afterwards his head fell upon his shoulder, his back glided from its support, and he fell flat upon the deck.

"Bad look that," remarked the surgeon, kneeling down beside his patient, whom he proceeded to examine. "Bad look--but 'tis only a swoon. He'll recover presently, and in the mean time I'll look at the wound. Ah! unpromising case. Dangerous thrust that; don't like it by any means, but if he is tractable he may get over it. Well, my friend," exclaimed Tourniquet, perceiving his patient open his eyes and look wildly about him, "your case is not so desperate as you imagine; and if you are attentive to what I tell you, it's very possible I shall be able to make you safe and sound again, don't you see."

After doing what he thought necessary, he ordered him off to his hammock, and proceeded to the others. Ardent was found suffering from severe fracture of the skull; Climberkin had fainted from loss of blood, having been wounded in nearly a dozen different places, but none of them were dangerous; five others had received the same rough treatment, who were expected to recover, and seven more were either dead or dying. As Doctor Tourniquet was placing a bandage on the last of his patients, he heard the pirates, who had been joining in a wild uproar the whole of the time he had been engaged upon the wounded, shouting as loud as they could bawl,--

"We stifle ev'ry cry, Ev'ry cry, ev'ry cry, We stifle ev'ry cry, Captain Death! And then we spread our sails, that are filled with welcome gales, Singing, 'Dead men tell no tales, Captain Death! Captain Death!' Singing, 'Dead men tell no tales, Captain Death!'"

The surgeon shuddered as he collected together his instruments, and with a heart full of anxiety for the fate of himself and his companions proceeded to his cabin.

CHAP. IX.

CAPTAIN DEATH.

The Albatross was within a day's sail of the shores of Madagascar, and as both Oriel Porphyry, Zabra, the professor, and the doctor, appeared desirous of giving their captors no cause of offence, they were better treated than they expected to have been. Zabra, more than all the others, seemed anxious to please the captain and his lieutenant; and the kindness of his disposition and the beauty of his music in a short time had such an influence upon their savage natures that their former distrust was completely obliterated, and they entertained something like a friendly feeling towards him. But Zabra had evidently some object in the course he was pursuing. He allowed no opportunity to escape by which he might win their confidence. He was continually doing some obliging offices for their gratification. He seemed to take a pleasure in their bold way of life, joined with them in its praise, and shared with them in its enjoyments. He handled their weapons with an air of bravery, and learned from them to shoot at a mark, and to cut and thrust with the sword; and there was such a loftiness in the enthusiasm he manifested on these occasions, that they invariably treated him with more respect than any of his fellow captives. But a close observer might have noticed that he often turned aside to conceal the disgust he entertained. When not within the observation of the pirates, his dark eyes flashed with indignation, and his beautiful mouth was compressed into an expression of scorn. He looked proudly around him, as if his spirit was exalted above the meaner natures with whom he was obliged to mingle. He loathed their fellowship. He abhorred their ways. And often, when the feeling of disdain with which he regarded these men seemed about to break forth into open acknowledgment, a glance towards the place where Oriel Porphyry stood, striving to control the contempt and hatred for the whole crew of ruffians, of whom he was a prisoner, that kept darting from his eyes, appeared sufficient to induce him to redouble his exertions to please the pirate chiefs.

They were all in the cabin, with the addition of Scrumpydike, or as he should now be styled, Lieutenant Rifle, and Log the captain's clerk, the latter looking twice as important and twice as conceited as he used to be. Zabra sat leaning on his harp, near Oriel Porphyry, apparently absorbed in thought. The doctor and the professor were disputing upon some metaphysical subject, as if they had forgotten all their fears, and cared for nothing but triumphing over the other. The captain had been talking with his lieutenant upon the progress of the ship. Oriel sat proud and abstracted; and Log was intently engaged in eating and drinking as much of the good things on the table as lay within his reach.

"All's goin' on as smooth as a mackerel's back," said the lieutenant--"every man knows his dooty, and looks arter it. There's no flinchers among 'em; and every one feels in his nat'ral element, cause there's no abominable honesty among 'em to corrupt their morals."

"So you must acknowledge that it's impossible there can be such a thing as free-will, don't you see," said Dr. Tourniquet.

"I acknowledge nothing of the kind, doctor, I assure you," replied Professor Fortyfolios. "The doctrine of necessity----"

"Hullo! is my nightingale silent?" cried the captain, unceremoniously interrupting the logicians. "Have you piped all dry--not a song left, nor a voice to sing it with? Is the harp dumb, or the singer sad, that we haven't heard so much as the ghost of a tune!"

"Neither, noble captain," replied Zabra, dressing his handsome face in his happiest smiles. "I wait your pleasure for a theme. Shall it be of love, or of war--of the pleasures of wine, or the gladness of gold--a song of the hunters amid the melodious forests--or of the mariner upon the everlasting sea?"

"If I might be so bold as to speak for the cap'ain," said the lieutenant, "I should say you might sing any thin' you has a mind--any thin' in the univarsal globe, so as there's nothin' about honesty in it--a thing as I've got a most vartuous abhorrence on. So chirrup away as soon as you like. I loves to listen to your toons--they fills me wi' a sort o' all overishness. Arn't it delightful, Master Log!"

"Delightful--delightful--very delightful--positively delightful--upon my word very superlatively delightful, Mister Scrumpy--I mean Lieutenant Rifle," mumbled the little man, as plainly as his mouth filled full of preserves would allow.

"Let it be what is most agreeable to yourself," said the captain. "But I would rather have something to stir one up a bit--a sort of nor-easter--that will make one's timbers creak again: none of your lack-a-daisical love and dove jimcracks--sink them--give us a song that will make one feel as if one was standing on the tip of one's toes on the tip-top of the world."