CHAPTER XXXIV

CAPTAIN COLENSO

"But what be us to do with the balloon, sir?" the coxswain demanded.

Had it been my affair, I believe I should have obeyed a ridiculous

impulse and begged them to keep it for their trouble; so weary was I of

the machine. Byfield, however, directed them to slit a seam of the oiled

silk and cut away the car, which was by this time wholly submerged and

not to be lifted. At once the _Lunardi_ collapsed and became manageable;

and having roped it to a ring-bolt astern, the crew fell to their oars.

My teeth were chattering. These operations of salvage had taken time,

and it took us a further unconscionable time to cover the distance

between us and the brig as she lay hove-to, her maintopsail aback and

her headsails drawing.

"Feels like towing a whale, sir," the oarsman behind me panted.

I whipped round. The voice--yes, and the face--were the voice and face

of the seaman who sat and steered us: the voice English, of a sort; the

face of no pattern that I recognised for English. The fellows were as

like as two peas: as like as the two drovers Sim and Candlish had been:

you might put them both at forty; grizzled men, pursed about the eyes

with seafaring. And now that I came to look, the three rowers forward,

though mere lads, repeated their elders' features and build; the gaunt

frame, the long, serious face, the swarthy complexion and meditative

eye--in short, Don Quixote of la Mancha at various stages of growth. Men

and lads, I remarked, wore silver earrings.

I was speculating on this likeness when we shipped oars and fell

alongside the brig's ladder. At the head of it my hand was taken, and I

was helped on deck with ceremony by a tall man in loose blue jacket and

duck trousers: an old man, bent and frail; by his air of dignity, the

master of the vessel, and by his features as clearly the patriarch of

the family. He lifted his cap and addressed us with a fine but (as I now

recall it) somewhat tired courtesy.

"An awkward adventure, gentlemen."

We thanked him in proper form.

"I am pleased to have been of service. The pilot-cutter yonder could

hardly have fetched you in less than twenty minutes. I have signalled

her alongside, and she will convey you back to Falmouth; none the worse,

I hope, for your wetting."

"A convenience," said I, "of which my friends will gladly avail

themselves. For my part, I do not propose to return."

He paused, weighing my words; obviously puzzled, but politely anxious to

understand. His eyes were grey and honest, even childishly honest, but

dulled about the rim of the iris and a trifle vacant, as though the

world with its train of affairs had passed beyond his active concern. I

keep my own eyes about me when I travel, and have surprised just such a

look, before now, behind the spectacles of very old men who sit by the

roadside and break stones for a living.

"I fear, sir, that I do not take you precisely."

"Why," said I, "if I may guess, this is one of the famous Falmouth

packets?"

"As to that, sir, you are right, and yet wrong. She _was_ a packet, and

(if I may say it) a famous one." His gaze travelled aloft, and

descending rested on mine with a sort of gentle resignation. "But the

old pennon is down, as you see. At present she sails on a private

adventure, and under private commission."

"A privateer?"

"You may call it that."

"The adventure hits my humour even more nicely. Accept me, Captain----"

"Colenso."

"Accept me, Captain Colenso, for your passenger: I will not say

comrade-in-arms--naval warfare being so far beyond my knowledge, which

it would perhaps be more descriptive to call ignorance. But I can pay--"

I thrust a hand nervously into my breast-pocket, and blessed Flora for

her waterproof bag. "Excuse me, Captain, if I speak with my friend here

in private for a moment."

I drew Byfield aside. "Your notes? The salt water----"

"You see," said he, "I am a martyr to acidity of the stomach."

"Man! do I invite the confidence of your stomach?"

"Consequently I never make an ascension unaccompanied by a small bottle

of Epsom salts, tightly corked."

"And you threw away the salts and substituted the notes?--that was

clever of you, Byfield."

I lifted my voice. "And Mr. Dalmahoy, I presume, returns to his

sorrowing folk?"

The extravagant cheerfully corrected me. "They will not sorrow: but I

shall return to them. Of their grudged pension I have eighteenpence in

my pocket. But I propose to travel with Sheepshanks, and raise the wind

by showing his tricks. He shall toss the caber from Land's End to

Forthside, cheered by the plaudits of the intervening taverns and

furthered by their bounty."

"A progress which we must try to expedite, if only out of regard for

Mrs. Sheepshanks." I turned to Captain Colenso again. "Well, sir, will

you accept me for your passenger?"

"I doubt that you are joking, sir."

"And I swear to you that I am not."

He hesitated; tottered to the companion, and called down, "Susannah!

Susannah! A moment on deck, if you please. One of these gentlemen wishes

to ship as passenger."

A dark-browed woman of middle age thrust her head above the ladder and

eyed me. Even so might a ruminating cow gaze over her hedge upon some

posting wayfarer.

"What's he dressed in?" she demanded abruptly.

"Madam, it was intended for a ball-suit."

"You will do no dancing here, young man."

"My dear lady, I accept that and every condition you may impose.

Whatever the discipline of the ship----"

She cut me short. "Have you told him, father?"

"Why, no. You see, sir, I ought to tell you that this is not an ordinary

voyage."

"Nor, for that matter, is mine."

"You will be exposed to risks."

"In a privateer that goes without saying."

"The risk of capture."

"Naturally: though a brave captain will not dwell on it." And I bowed.

"But I do dwell on it," he answered earnestly, a red spot showing on

either cheek. "I must tell you, sir, that we are very likely indeed to

fall into an enemy's hands."

"Say certain," chimed in Susannah.

"Yes, I will say we are certain. I cannot in conscience do less." He

sought his daughter's eyes. She nodded.

"O, damn your conscience!" thought I, my stomach rising in contempt for

this noble-looking but extremely faint-hearted privateersman. "Come," I

said, rallying him, "we fall in with a Frenchman, or--let us suppose--an

American: that is our object, eh?"

"Yes, with an American. That is our object, to be sure."

"Then I warrant we give a good account of ourselves. Tut, tut, man--an

ex-packet captain!"

I pulled up in sheer wonder at the lunacy of our dispute and the side he

was forcing me to take. Here was I haranguing a grey-headed veteran on

his own quarter-deck and exhorting him to valour! In a flash I saw

myself befooled, tricked into playing the patronising amateur,

complacently posturing for the derision of gods and men. And Captain

Colenso, who aimed but to be rid of me, was laughing in his sleeve, no

doubt. In a minute even Sheepshanks would catch the jest. Now, I do

mortally hate to be laughed at: it may be disciplinary for most men, but

it turns me obstinate.

Captain Colenso, at any rate, dissembled his mirth to perfection. The

look which he shifted from me to Susannah and back was eloquent of

senile indecision.

"I cannot explain to you, sir. The consequences--I might mitigate them

for you--still you must risk them." He broke off and appealed to me. "I

would rather you did not insist: I would indeed! I must beg of you, sir,

not to press it."

"But I do press it," I answered, stubborn as a mule. "I tell you that I

am ready to accept all risks. But if you want me to return with my

friends in the cutter, you must summon your crew to pitch me down the

ladder. And there's the end on't."

"Dear, dear! Tell me at least, sir, that you are an unmarried man."

"Up to now I have that misfortune." I aimed a bow at Mistress Susannah;

but that lady had turned her broad shoulders, and it missed fire. "Which

reminds me," I continued, "to ask for the favour of pen, ink, and paper.

I wish to send a letter ashore, to the mail."

She invited me to follow her; and I descended to the main cabin, a

spick-and-span apartment, where we surprised two passably good-looking

damsels at their housework, the one polishing a mahogany swing-table,

the other a brass door-handle. They picked up their cloths, dropped me a

curtsy apiece, and disappeared at a word from Susannah, who bade me be

seated at the swing-table and set writing materials before me. The room

was lit by a broad stern-window, and lined along two of its sides with

mahogany doors leading, as I supposed, to sleeping cabins: the

panels--not to speak of the brass handles and finger-plates--shining so

that a man might have seen his face in them, to shave by. "But why all

these women on board a privateer?" thought I, as I tried a quill on my

thumb-nail, and embarked upon my first love-letter.

"DEAREST,--This line with my devotion to tell you that the balloon

has descended safely, and your Anne finds himself on board...."

"By the way, Miss Susannah, what is the name of this ship?"

"She is called the _Lady Nepean_; and I am a married woman and the

mother of six."

"I felicitate you, madam." I bowed, and resumed my writing:

"... the _Lady Nepean_ packet, outward bound from Falmouth to...."

--"Excuse me, but where the dickens are we bound for?"

"For the coast of Massachusetts, I believe."

"You believe?"

She nodded. "Young man, if you'll take my advice, you'll go back."

"Madam," I answered, on the sudden impulse, "I am an escaped French

prisoner." And with that, having tossed my cap over the mills (as they

say), I leaned back in the settee, and we regarded each other.

"----escaped," I continued, still my eyes on hers, "with a trifle of

money, but minus my heart. I write this to the fair daughter of Britain

who has it in her keeping. And now what have you to say?"

"Ah, well," she mused, "the Lord's ways be past finding out. It may be

the easier for you."

Apparently it was the habit of this ship's company to speak in enigmas.

I caught up my pen again:

"... the coast of Massachusetts, in the United States of America,

whence I hope to make my way in good time to France. Though you have

news, dearest, I fear none can reach me for a while. Yet, and though

you have no more to write than 'I love you, Anne,' write it, and

commit it to Mr. Robbie, who will forward it to Mr. Romaine, who in

turn may find a means to get it smuggled through to Paris, Rue du

Fouarre, 16. It should be consigned to the widow Jupille, 'to be

called for by the corporal who praised her _vin blanc_.' She will

remember; and in truth a man who had the courage to praise it

deserves remembrance as singular among the levies of France. Should a

youth of the name of Rowley present himself before you, you may trust

his fidelity absolutely, his sagacity not at all. And so (since the

boat waits to take this) I kiss the name of Flora, and subscribe

myself--until I come to claim her, and afterwards to eternity--her

_prisoner_.

"ANNE."

I had, in fact, a second reason for abbreviating this letter and sealing

it in a hurry. The movements of the brig, though slight, were

perceptible, and in the close air of the main cabin my head already

began to swim. I hastened on deck in time to shake hands with my

companions and confide the letter to Byfield with instructions for

posting it. "And if your share in our adventure should come into public

question," said I, "you must apply to a Major Chevenix, now quartered in

Edinburgh Castle, who has a fair inkling of the facts, and as a man of

honour will not decline to assist you. You have Dalmahoy, too, to back

your assertion that you knew me only as Mr. Ducie." Upon Dalmahoy I

pressed a note for his and Mr. Sheepshanks's travelling expenses. "My

dear fellow," he protested, "I couldn't _dream_ ... if you are sure it

won't inconvenience ... merely as a loan ... and deuced handsome of you,

I will say." He kept the cutter waiting while he drew an I.O.U., in

which I figured as Bursar and Almoner (_honoris causa_) to the Senatus

Academicus of Cramond-on-Almond. Mr. Sheepshanks meanwhile shook hands

with me impressively. "It has been a memorable experience, sir. I shall

have much to tell my wife on my return."

It occurred to me as probable that the lady would have even more to say

to him. He stepped into the cutter, and, as they pushed off, was

hilariously bonneted by Mr. Dalmahoy, by way of parting salute.

"Starboard after-braces!" Captain Colenso called to his crew. The yards

were trimmed and the _Lady Nepean_ slowly gathered way, while I stood by

the bulwarks gazing after my friends and attempting to persuade myself

that the fresh air was doing me good.

Captain Colenso perceived my queasiness, and advised me to seek my berth

and lie down; and on my replying with haggard defiance, took my arm

gently, as if I had been a wilful child, and led me below. I passed

beyond one of the mahogany doors leading from the main cabin; and in

that seclusion I ask you to leave me face to face with the next

forty-eight hours. It was a dreadful time.

Nor at the end of it did gaiety wait on a partially recovered appetite.

The ladies of the ship nursed me, and tickled my palate with the

lightest of sea diet. The men strowed seats for me on deck, and touched

their caps with respectful sympathy. One and all were indefatigably

kind, but taciturn to a degree beyond belief. A fog of mystery hung and

deepened about them and the _Lady Nepean_, and I crept about the deck in

a continuous evil dream, entangling myself in impossible theories. To

begin with, there were eight women on board: a number not to be

reconciled with serious privateering; all daughters or sons' wives or

granddaughters of Captain Colenso. Of the men--twenty-three in

all--those who were not called Colenso were called Pengelly; and most of

them convicted landsmen by their bilious countenances and unhandy

movements; men fresh from the plough-tail by their gait, yet with no

ruddy impress of field-work and the open air.

Twice every day, and thrice on Sundays, this extraordinary company

gathered bare-headed to the poop for a religious service which it would

be colourless to call frantic. It began decorously enough with a

quavering exposition of some portion of Holy Writ by Captain Colenso.

But by and by (and especially at the evening office) his listeners

kindled and opened on him with a skirmishing fire of "Amens." Then,

worked by degrees to an ecstasy, they broke into cries of thanksgiving

and mutual encouragement; they jostled for the rostrum (a long

nine-pounder swivel); and then speaker after speaker declaimed his

soul's experiences until his voice cracked, while the others sobbed,

exhorted, even leapt in the air. "Stronger, brother!" "'Tis working,

'tis working!" "O deliverance!" "O streams of redemption!" For ten

minutes, or a quarter of an hour maybe, the ship was a Babel, a Bedlam.

And then the tumult would die down as suddenly as it had arisen, and

dismissed by the old man, the crew, with faces once more inscrutable,

but twitching with spent emotion, scattered to their usual tasks.

Five minutes after these singular outbreaks it was difficult to believe

in them. Captain Colenso paced the quarter-deck once more with his

customary shuffle, his hands beneath his coat-tails, his eyes conning

the ship with their usual air of mild abstraction. Now and again he

paused to instruct one of his incapables in the trimming of a brace, or

to correct the tie of a knot. He never scolded; seldom lifted his voice.

By his manner of speech, and the ease of his authority, he and his

family might have belonged to separate ranks of life. Yet I seemed to

detect method in their obedience. The veriest fumbler went about his

work with a concentrated gravity of bearing, as if he fulfilled a

remoter purpose, and understood it while he tied his knots into

"grannies," and generally mismanaged the job in hand.

Towards the middle of our second week out, we fell in with a storm--a

rotatory affair, and soon over by reason that we struck the outer fringe

of it; but to a landsman sufficiently daunting while it lasted. Late in

the afternoon I thrust my head up for a look around. We were weltering

along in horrible forty-foot seas, over which our bulwarks tilted at

times until from the companion hatchway I stared plumb into the grey

sliding chasms, and felt like a fly on the wall. The _Lady Nepean_

hurled her old timbers along under close-reefed maintopsail, and a rag

of a foresail only. The captain had housed topgallant masts and lashed

his guns inboard; yet she rolled so that you would not have trusted a

cat on her storm-washed decks. They were desolate but for the captain

and helmsman on the poop; the helmsman, a mere lad--the one, in fact,

who had pulled the bow-oar to our rescue--lashed and gripping the spokes

pluckily, but with a white face which told that, though his eyes were

strained on the binnacle, his mind ran on the infernal seas astern. Over

him, in sea-boots and oilskins, towered Captain Colenso--rejuvenated,

transfigured; his body swaying easily to every lurch and plunge of the

brig, his face entirely composed and cheerful, his salt-rimmed eyes

contracted a little, but alert and even boyishly bright. An heroical

figure of a man!

My heart warmed to Captain Colenso; and next morning, as we bowled

forward with a temperate breeze on our quarter, I took occasion to

compliment him on the _Lady Nepean's_ behaviour.

"Ay," said he abstractedly; "the old girl made pretty good weather of

it."

"I suppose we were never in what you would call real danger?"

He faced me with sudden earnestness. "Mr. Ducie, I have served the Lord

all my days, and He will not sink the ship that carries my honour."

Giving me no time to puzzle over this, he changed his tone. "You'll

scarce believe it, but in her young days she had a very fair turn of

speed."

"Her business surely demands it still," said I. Only an arrant landsman

could have reconciled the lumbering old craft with any idea of

privateering; but this was only my theory, and I clung to it.

"We shall not need to test her."

"You rely on your guns, then?" I had observed the care lavished on

these. They were of brass, and shone like the door-plates in the main

cabin.

"Why, as to that," he answered evasively, "I've had to before now. The

last voyage I commanded her--it was just after the war broke out with

America--we fell in with a schooner off the Banks; we were outward bound

for Halifax. She carried twelve nine-pounder carronades and two long

nines, beside a big fellow on a traverse; and we had the guns you

see--eight nine-pounders and one chaser of the same calibre--post-office

guns, we call them. But we beat her off after two hours of it."

"And saved the mails?"

He rose abruptly (we had seated ourselves on a couple of hen-coops under

the break of the poop). "You will excuse me. I have an order to give";

and he hurried up the steps to the quarter-deck.

It must have been ten days after this that he stopped me in one of my

eternal listless promenades and invited me to sit beside him again.

"I wish to take your opinion, Mr. Ducie. You have not, I believe, found

salvation? You are not one of us, as I may say?"

"Meaning by 'us'?"

"I and mine, sir, are unworthy followers of the Word, as preached by

John Wesley."

"Why, no; that is not my religion."

"But you are a gentleman." I bowed. "And on a point of honour--do you

think, sir, that as a servant of the King one should obey his earthly

master even to doing what conscience forbids?"

"That might depend--"

"But on a point of honour, sir? Suppose that you had pledged your

private word, in a just, nay, a generous bargain, and were commanded to

break it. Is there anything could override that?"

I thought of my poor old French colonel and his broken _parole_; and was

silent. "Can you not tell me the circumstances?" I suggested at length.

He had been watching me eagerly. But he shook his head now, sighed, and

drew a small Bible from his pocket. "I am not a gentleman, sir. I laid

it before the Lord: but," he continued naively, "I wanted to learn how a

gentleman would look at it." He searched for a text, turning the pages

with long, nervous fingers; but desisted with another sigh, and, a

moment later, was summoned away to solve some difficulty with the ship's

reckoning.

My respect for the captain had been steadily growing. He was so amiable,

too, so untiringly courteous; he bore his sorrow--whatever the cause

might be--with so gentle a resignation; that I caught myself pitying

even while I cursed him and his crew for their inhuman reticence.

But my respect vanished pretty quickly next day. We were seated at

dinner in the main cabin--the captain at the head of the table, and, as

usual, crumbling his biscuit in a sort of waking trance--when Mr. Reuben

Colenso, his eldest son and acting mate, put his solemn face in at the

door with news of a sail about four miles distant on the lee bow. I

followed the captain on deck. The stranger, a schooner, had been

lying-to when first descried in the hazy weather; but was standing now

to intercept us. At two miles' distance--it being then about two

o'clock--I saw that she hoisted British colours.

"But that flag was never sewn in England," Captain Colenso observed,

studying her through his glass. His cheeks, usually of that pallid ivory

colour proper to old age, were flushed with a faint carmine, and I

observed a suppressed excitement in all his crew. For my part, I

expected no better than to play target in the coming engagement: but it

surprised me that he served out no cutlasses, ordered up no powder from

the hold, and, in short, took no single step to clear the _Lady Nepean_

for action or put his men in fighting trim. The most of them were

gathered about the fore-hatch, to the total neglect of their guns, which

they had been cleaning assiduously all the morning. On we stood without

shifting our course by a point, and were almost within range when the

schooner ran up the stars-and-stripes and plumped a round shot ahead of

us by way of hint.

I stared at Captain Colenso. Could he mean to surrender without one

blow? He had exchanged his glass for a speaking trumpet, and waited,

fumbling with it, his face twitching painfully. A cold, dishonouring

suspicion gripped me. The man was here to betray his flag. I glanced

aloft: the British ensign flew at the peak. And as I turned my head, I

felt rather than saw the flash, heard the shattering din as the puzzled

American luffed up and let fly across our bows with a raking broadside.

Doubtless she, too, took note of our defiant ensign, and leaped at the

nearest guess that we meant to run her aboard.

Now, whether my glance awoke Captain Colenso, or this was left to the

all but simultaneous voice of the guns, I know not. But as their smoke

rolled between us I saw him drop his trumpet and run with a crazed face

to the taffrail, where the halliards led. The traitor had forgotten to

haul down his flag!

It was too late. While he fumbled with the halliards, a storm of

musketry burst and swept the quarter-deck. He flung up both hands, spun

round upon his heel, and pitched backwards at the helmsman's feet, and

the loosened ensign dropped slowly and fell across him, as if to cover

his shame.

Instantly the firing ceased. I stood there between compassion and

disgust, willing yet loathing to touch the pitiful corpse, when a

woman--Susannah--ran screaming by me and fell on her knees beside it. I

saw a trickle of blood ooze beneath the scarlet folds of the flag. It

crawled along the plank, hesitated at a seam, and grew there to an oddly

shaped pool. I watched it. In shape I thought it remarkably like the map

of Ireland. And I became aware that some one was speaking to me, and

looked up to find a lean and lantern-jawed American come aboard and

standing at my shoulder.

"Are you anywise hard of hearing, stranger? Or must I repeat to you that

this licks cockfighting?"

"I, at any rate, am not disputing it, sir."

"The _Lady Nepean_, too! Is that the Cap'n yonder? I thought as much.

Dead, hey? Well, he'd better _stay_ dead; though I'd have enjoyed the

inside o' five minutes' talk, just to find out what he did it for."

"Did what?"

"Why, brought the _Lady Nepean_ into these waters, and Commodore Rodgers

no further away than Rhode Island, by all accounts. He must have had a

nerve. And what post might _you_ be holding on this all-fired packet?

Darn _me_, but you have females enough on board!" For indeed there were

three poor creatures kneeling now and crooning over the dead captain.

The men had surrendered--they had no arms to fling down--and were

collected in the waist, under guard of a cordon of Yankees. One lay

senseless on deck, and two or three were bleeding from splinter wounds;

for the enemy, her freeboard being lower by a foot or two than the wall

sides of the _Lady Nepean_, had done little execution on deck, whatever

the wounds in our hull might be.

"I beg your pardon, Captain--"

"Seccombe, sir, is my name. Alpheus Q. Seccombe, of the _Manhattan_

schooner."

"Well, then, Captain Seccombe, I am a passenger on board this ship, and

know neither her business here nor why she has behaved in a fashion that

makes me blush for her flag--which, by the way, I have every reason to

abominate."

"O, come now! You're trying it on. It's a yard-arm matter, and I don't

blame you, to be sure. Cap'n sank the mails?"

"There were none to sink, I believe."

He conned me curiously.

"You don't look like a Britisher, either."

"I trust not. I am the Viscount Anne de Keroual de Saint-Yves, escaped

from a British war-prison."

"Lucky for you if you prove it. We'll get to the bottom of this." He

faced about and called, "Who's the first officer of this brig?"

Reuben Colenso was allowed to step forward. Blood from a scalp-wound

had run and caked on his right cheek, but he stepped squarely enough.

"Bring him below," Captain Seccombe commanded. "And you, Mr.

What's-your-name, lead the way. It's one or the other of us will get the

hang of this affair."

He seated himself at the head of the table in the main cabin, and spat

ceremoniously on the floor.

"Now, sir: you are, or were, first officer of this brig?"

The prisoner, standing between his two guards, gripped his stocking cap

nervously. "Will you please to tell me, sir, if my father is killed?"

"Seth, my lad, I want room." One of the guards, a strapping youngster,

stepped and flung open a pane of the stern window. Captain Seccombe spat

out of it with nonchalant dexterity before answering--

"I guess he is. Brig's name?"

"The _Lady Nepean_."

"Mail packet?"

"Yes, sir; leastways--"

"Now, see here, Mister First Officer Colenso junior; it's a shortish

trip between this and the yard-arm, and it may save you some

su-perfluous lying if I tell you that in August, last year, the _Lady

Nepean_ packet, Captain Colenso, outward bound for Halifax, met the

_Hitchcock_ privateer off the Great Bank of Newfoundland, and beat her

off after two hours' fighting. You were on board of her?"

"I tended the stern gun."

"_Very_ good. The next day, being still off the Banks, she fell in with

Commodore Rodgers, of the United States frigate _President_, and

surrendered to him right away."

"We sank the mails."

"You did, my man. Notwithstanding which, that lion-hearted hero treated

you with the forbearance of a true-born son of freedom." Captain

Seccombe's voice took an oratorical roll. "He saw that you were

bleeding from your fray. He fed you at his hospitable board; he would

not suffer you to be de-nuded of the least trifle. Nay, what did he

promise?--but to send your father and his crew and passengers back to

England in their own ship, on their swearing, upon their sacred honour,

that she should return to Boston harbour with an equal number of

American prisoners from England. Your father swore to that upon the Old

and New Testaments, severally and conjointly; and the _Lady Nepean_

sailed home for all the world like a lamb from the wolf's jaws, with a

single American officer inside of her. And how did your dog-damned

Government respect this noble confidence? In a way, sir, that would have

brought a blush to the cheek of a low-down attorney's clerk. They

re-pudiated. Under shelter of a notification that no exchange of

prisoners on the high seas would count as valid, this perjured tyrant

and his myrmidons went back on their captain's oath, and kept the brig;

and the American officer came home empty-handed. Your father was told to

resume his duties, immortal souls being cheap in a country where they

press seamen's bodies. And now, Mister First Officer Colenso, perhaps

you'll explain how he had the impudence to come within two hundred miles

of a coast where his name smelt worse than vermin."

"He was coming back, sir."

"Hey?"

"Back to Boston, sir. You see, Cap'n, father wasn't a rich man, but he

had saved a trifle. He didn't go back to the service, though told that

he might. It preyed on his mind. We was all very fond of father; being

all one family, as you might say, though some of us had wives and

families, and some were over to Redruth, to the mines."

"Stick to the point."

"But this _is_ the point, Cap'n. He was coming back, you see. The _Lady

Nepean_ wasn't fit for much after the handling she'd had. She was going

for twelve hundred pounds: the Post Office didn't look for more. We got

her for eleven hundred, with the guns, and the repairs may have cost a

hundred and fifty; but you'll find the account-books in the cupboard

there. Father had a matter of five hundred laid by, and a little over."

Captain Seccombe removed his legs from the cabin-table, tilted his chair

forward and half rose in his seat.

"You _bought_ her?"

"That's what I'm telling you, sir; though father'd have put it much

clearer. You see, he laid it before the Lord; and then he laid it before

all of us. It preyed on his mind. My sister Susannah stood up and she

said, 'I reckon I'm the most respectably married of all of you, having a

farm of my own; but we can sell up, and all the world's a home to them

that fears the Lord. We can't stock up with American prisoners, but we

can go ourselves instead; and judging by the prisoners I've a-seen

brought in, Commodore Rodgers'll be glad to take us. What he does to us

is the Lord's affair.' That's what she said, sir. Of course, we kept it

quiet: we put it about that the _Lady Nepean_ was for Canada, and the

whole family going out for emigrants. This here gentleman we picked up

outside Falmouth; perhaps he've told you."

Captain Seccombe stared at me, and I at Captain Seccombe. Reuben Colenso

stood wringing his cap.

At length the American found breath enough to whistle. "I'll have to put

back to Boston about this, though it's money out of pocket. This here's

a matter for Commodore Bainbridge. Take a seat, Mr. Colenso."

"I was going to ask," said the prisoner simply, "if, before you put me

in irons, I might go on deck and look at father. It'll be only a moment,

sir."

"Yes, sir, you may. And if you can get the ladies to excuse me, I will

follow in a few minutes. I wish to pay him my respects. It's my

opinion," he added pensively, as the prisoner left the cabin--"it's my

opinion that the man's story is genu-wine."

He repeated the word, five minutes later, as we stood on the

quarter-deck beside the body. "A genu-wine man, sir, unless I am

mistaken."

Well, the question is one for casuists. In my travels I have learnt

this, that men are greater than governments; wiser sometimes, honester

always. Heaven deliver me from any such problem as killed this old

packet-captain! Between loyalty to his king and loyalty to his

conscience he had to choose, and it is likely enough that he erred. But

I believe that he fought it out, and found on his country's side a limit

of shame to which he could not stoop. A man so placed, perhaps, may even

betray his country to her honour. In this hope at least the flag which

he had hauled down covered his body still as we committed it to the sea,

its service or disservice done.

Two days later we anchored in the great harbour at Boston, where Captain

Seccombe went with his story and his prisoners to Commodore Bainbridge,

who kept them pending news of Commodore Rodgers. They were sent, a few

weeks later, to Newport, Rhode Island, to be interrogated by that

commander; and, to the honour of the Republic, were released on a

liberal _parole_; but whether, when the war ended, they returned to

England or took oath as American citizens, I have not learned. I was

luckier. The Commodore allowed Captain Seccombe to detain me while the

French consul made inquiry into my story; and during the two months

which the consul thought fit to take over it, I was a guest in the

captain's house. And here I made my bow to Miss Amelia Seccombe, an

accomplished young lady, "who," said her doating father, "has acquired a

considerable proficiency in French, and will be glad to swap ideas with

you in that language." Miss Seccombe and I did not hold our

communications in French; and, observing her disposition to substitute

the warmer language of the glances, I took the bull by the horns, told

her my secret, and rhapsodised on Flora. Consequently no Nausicaa

figures in this Odyssey of mine. Nay, the excellent girl flung herself

into my cause, and bombarded her father and the consular office with

such effect that on 2nd February 1814, I waved farewell to her from the

deck of the barque _Shawmut_, bound from Boston to Bordeaux.