Chapter 6

"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 £12 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.