Читать книгу The King's Own - Фредерик Марриет, Frederick Marryat - Страница 14

Not possessing a prompter’s whistle, we must use, as a substitute, the boatswain’s call, and, at his shrill pipe, we change the scene to a back parlour in one of the most confined streets at the east end of England’s proud and wealthy metropolis. The dramatis personae are an elderly and corpulent personage, with as little of fashion in his appearance as in his residence; and a young female of about twenty years of age, with expressive and beautiful features, but wanting “the damask on the cheek,” the true value of which the fair sex so well appreciate, that, if not indebted for it to nature, they are too apt to resort to art for an unworthy imitation.

The first-mentioned of these two personages was busy examining, through his spectacles, some papers which lay on the table before him — occasionally diverted from his task by the pertinacity of some flies, which seemed to have taken a particular fancy to his bald forehead and scalp, which, in spite of his constant brushing off, they thought proper to consider as a pleasant and smooth sort of coursing-plain, placed there (probably in their ideas) solely for their amusement. Part of a decanter of wine, and the remains of a dessert, crowded the small table at which he sat, and added to the general air of confinement which pervaded the whole.

“It’s very hot, my dear. Open the window, and let us have a little air.”

“Oh, father,” replied the young woman, who rose to throw up the sash, “you don’t know how I pine for fresh air. How long do you intend to continue this life of constant toil and privation?”

“How long, my dear? Why, I presume you do not wish to starve — you would not be very well pleased if, when you applied for money, as you do, every week at least, I were to tell you that the bag was empty.”

“Oh, nonsense — I know better, father; don’t think so poorly of me as to attempt to deceive me in that way.”

“And pray, Miss Susan, what do you know?” said the old gentleman, looking up at her through his spectacles, as she stood by the side of his chair.

“I know what you have taught me, sir. Do you recollect explaining to me the nature of the funds — what was the meaning of the national debt — all the varieties of stock, and what interest they all bore?”

“Well, and what then?”

“Why, then, father, I have often seen the amounts of the dividends which you have received every half-year, and have heard your orders to Wilmott to re-invest in the funds. Now, your last half-year’s dividend in the Three per Cents was — let me see — oh — 841 pounds, 14 shillings, 6 pence, which, you know, doubled, makes itself an income of — ”

“And pray, Miss Susan, what business have you with all this?” retorted her father, half pleased, half angry.

“Why, father, you taught me yourself; and thought me very stupid because I did not comprehend it as soon as you expected,” answered Susan, leaning over and kissing him; “and now you ask me what business I have to know it.”

“Well, well, girl, it’s very true,” said the old man, smiling, “but allowing that you are correct, what then?”

“Why then, father, don’t be angry if I say that it appears to me that you have more money now than you can spend while you live, or know to whom to leave when you die. What, then, is the use of confining yourself in a dirty, narrow street, and toiling all day for no earthly advantage?”

“But how do you know that I have nobody to leave my money to, Susan?”

“Have you not repeatedly said that you have no relations or kin, that you are aware of; except me; that you were once a sailor before the mast — an orphan, bound apprentice by the parish? Whom, then, have you except me? — and if you continue here much longer, father, I feel convinced that you will not have me — you will have no one. If you knew how tired I am of looking out at this horrid brick wall — how I long for the country, to be running among the violets and primroses — how I pine for relief from this little dungeon. Oh! what would I give to be flying before the breeze in the lugger with McElvina!”

“Indeed, Miss!” replied old Hornblow, whom the reader may recognise as the patron of our smuggling captain.

“Well, father, there’s no harm in saying so. I want freedom. I feel as if I could not be too free; I should like to be blown about in a balloon. Oh, why don’t you give up business, go down to the sea-side, take a pretty little cottage, and make yourself and me happy? I fancy the sea-breeze is blowing in my face, and all my ringlets out of curl. I shall die if I stay here much longer — I shall indeed, father.”

Repeated attacks of this nature had already sapped the foundation; and a lovely and only daughter had the influence over her father’s heart, to which she was entitled.

“Well, well, Susan, let McElvina wind up the accounts of this vessel, and then I will do as you wish; but I cannot turn him adrift, you know.”

“Turn Captain McElvina adrift! No — if you did, father — ”

“I presume that you would be very much inclined to take him in tow — eh, Miss?”

“I shall never act without attending to your advice, and consulting your wishes, my dear father,” answered Susan, the suffusion of her unusually pale cheeks proving that she required but colour to be perfectly beautiful.

And here the conversation dropped. Old Hornblow had long perceived the growing attachment between his daughter and McElvina; and the faithful and valuable services of the latter, added to the high opinion which the old man had of his honesty — which, to do McElvina justice, had been most scrupulous — had determined him to let things take their own course. Indeed, there was no one with whom old Hornblow was acquainted to whom he would have entrusted his daughter’s happiness with so much confidence as to our reformed captain.

A sharp double tap at the street door announced the post, and in a few minutes after this conversation the clerk appeared with a letter for old Hornblow, who, pursuant to the prudent custom of those days, had his counting-house on the ground floor of his own residence, which enabled him to go to his dinner, and return to his business in the evening. Nowadays we are all above our business, and live above our means (which is in itself sufficient to account for the general distress that is complained of); and the counting-house is deserted before dusk, that we may arrive at our residences in Russell-square, or the Regent’s-park, in time to dress for a turtle dinner at six o’clock, instead of a mutton chop, or single joint, en famille, at two.

But to return. Old Hornblow put on his spectacles (which were on the table since they had been removed from his nose by Susan when she kissed him), and examined the post-mark, seal, and superscription, as if he wished to tax his ingenuity with a guess previously to opening the letter, which would have saved him all that trouble, and have decided the point of scrutiny — viz., from whom it came?

“McElvina, I rather think,” said he, musing; “but the postmark is Plymouth. How the deuce — !” The two first lines of the letter were read, and the old man’s countenance fell. Susan, who had been all alive at the mention of McElvina’s name, perceived the alteration in her father’s looks.

“No bad news, I hope, my dear father?”

“Bad enough,” replied the old man, with a deep sigh; “the lugger is taken by a frigate, and sent into Plymouth.”

“And Captain McElvina — he’s not hurt, I hope?”

“No, I presume not, as he has written the letter, and says nothing about it.”

Satisfied upon this point, Susan, who recollected her father’s promise, was undutiful enough, we are sorry to say, to allow her heart to bound with joy at the circumstance. All her fond hopes were about to be realised, and she could hardly refrain from carolling the words of Ariel, “Where the bee sucks, there lurk I;” but fortunately she remembered that other parties might not exactly participate in her delight. Out of respect for her father’s feelings, she therefore put on a grave countenance, in sad contrast with her eyes, which joy had brilliantly lighted up.

“Well, it’s a bad business,” continued old Hornblow. “Wilmott!” (The clerk heard his master’s voice, and came in.) “Bring me the ledger. Let me see — Belle Susanne — I wonder why the fool called her by that name, as if I had not one already to take money out of my pocket. Oh! here it is — folio 59 continued, folio 100, 129, 147, — not balanced since April last year. Be quick, and strike me out a rough balance-sheet of the lugger.”

“But what does Captain McElvina say, father?”

“What does he say? Why, that he is taken. Haven’t I told you so already, girl?” replied old Hornblow, in evident ill-humour.

“Yes, but the particulars, my dear father!”

“Oh, there’s only the fact, without particulars — says he will write more fully in a day or two.”

“I’ll answer for him, that it was not his fault, father — he has always done you justice.”

“I did not say that he had not; I’m only afraid that success has made him careless — it’s always the case.”

“Yes,” replied Susan, taking up the right cue; “as you say, father, he has been very successful.”

“He has,” replied the old man, recovering his serenity a little, “very successful indeed. I dare say it was not his fault.”

The clerk soon made his appearance with the rough balance-sheet required. It did more to restore the good humour of the old man than even the soothing of his daughter.

“Oh! here we are — La Belle Susanne — Debtor to — . Total, 14,864 pounds, 14 shillings, 3 pence. Contra — Credit. 27,986 pounds, 16 shillings, 8 pence. Balance to profit and loss, 13,122 pounds, 2 shillings, 5 pence. Well, that’s not so very bad in less than three years. I think I may afford to lose her.”

“Why, father,” replied Susan, leaning over his shoulder, and looking archly at him, “’tis a fortune in itself; to a contented person.”

But as, independently of McElvina’s letter not being sufficiently explicit, there are other circumstances connected with his capture that are important to our history, we shall ourselves narrate the particulars.

For more than two years, McElvina, by his dexterity and courage, and the fast sailing of his vessel, had escaped all his pursuers, and regularly landed his cargoes. During this time, Willy had made rapid progress under his instruction, not only in his general education, but also in that of his profession. One morning the lugger was off Cape Clear, on the coast of Ireland, when she discovered a frigate to windward, — the wind, weather, and relative situations of the two vessels being much the same as on the former occasion, when McElvina, by his daring and judicious manoeuvre, had effected his escape. The frigate chased, and soon closed-to within a quarter of a mile of the lugger, when she rounded-to, and poured in a broadside of grape, which brought her fore-yard down on deck. From that moment such an incessant fire of musketry was poured in from the frigate, that every man on board of McElvina’s vessel, who endeavoured to repair the mischief; was immediately struck down. Any attempt at escape was now hopeless. When within two cables’ length, the frigate hove to the wind, keeping the lugger under her lee, and continued a fire of grape and musketry into her, until the rest of her sails were lowered down.

The crew of the smuggler, perceiving all chance in their favour to be over, ran down below to avoid the fire, and secure their own effects. The boats of the frigate were soon on board of the lugger, and despatched back to her with McElvina and the chief officers. Willy jumped into the boat, and was taken on board with his patron.

The captain of the frigate was on the quarter-deck; and as he turned round, it occurred to Willy that he had seen his face before, but when or where he could not exactly call to mind; and he continued to scrutinise him, as he paced up and down the quarter-deck, revolving in his mind where it was that he had encountered that peculiar countenance.

His eye, so fixed upon the captain that it followed him up and down as he moved, at last was met by that of the latter, who, surprised at finding so small a lad among the prisoners, walked over to the lee-side of the quarter-deck, and addressed him with — “You’re but a young smuggler, my lad; are you the captain’s son?”

The voice immediately recalled to Willy’s recollection every circumstance attending their last meeting, and who the captain was. He answered in the negative, with a smile.

“You’ve a light heart, youngster. Pray, what’s your name?”

“You said that my name was to be Seymour, sir,” replied Willy, touching his hat.

“Said his name was to be Seymour! What does the boy mean? — Good Heavens! I recollect,” observed Captain M — , for it was he. “Are you the boy that I sent home in the chasse-marée, to be fitted out for the quarter-deck?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how long have you been on this praiseworthy service?”

“Ever since, sir,” replied our hero, who had little idea of its impropriety.

La Belle Susanne was as renowned for her fast sailing, and repeated escapes from the cruisers, as Captain McElvina and his crew were for their courage and success. The capture of the vessel had long been a desideratum of the English Government; and Captain M — , although gratified at her falling into his hands, was not very well pleased to find that a lad, whom he had intended to bring forward in the service should, as he supposed, have voluntarily joined a party, who had so long bid defiance to the laws and naval force of the country. His countenance assumed an air of displeasure, and he was about to turn away, without any further remarks, when McElvina, who perceived how matters stood, and felt aware that Willy’s future prospects were at stake, stepped forward, and respectfully addressing the captain, narrated in few words the rescue of Willy from the wreck, and added that the boy had been detained by him, and had had no opportunity of leaving the vessel, which had never anchored but in the French port of Havre. He also stated, what was indeed true, that he had always evaded explaining to the boy the real nature of the service upon which the lugger was employed; from which it may be inferred that, notwithstanding McElvina’s defence of smuggling in our former chapters, he was not quite so well convinced, in his own mind, of its propriety as he would have induced Debriseau to suppose.

The assertions of McElvina turned the scale again in Willy’s favour; and, after he had answered the interrogatories of the captain, relative to the fate of Mr Bullock and the rest of the men in the prize, Captain M — , who, although severe, was not only just, but kind-hearted, determined that his former good intentions relative to our hero should still remain in force.

“Well, Mr Seymour, you have seen a little service, and your captain gives you a high character, as an active and clever lad. As you have been detained against your will, I think we may recover your time and pay. I trust, however, that you will, in future, be employed in a more honourable manner. We shall, in all probability, be soon in port, and till then you must remain as you are, for I cannot trust you again in a prize.”

As our hero was in a new ship, the officers and ship’s company of which were not acquainted with his history, except that he had been promoted, for an act of gallantry, by Captain M — , he was favourably received by his messmates. The crew of the lugger were detained as prisoners on board of the frigate, and the vessel in charge of one of the officers was ordered to keep company, Captain M — having determined to return into port, and not wishing to lose sight of his valuable prize.

“You have a very fine ship’s company, Captain McElvina,” observed Captain M — . “How many of them are English?”

“About eighty; and as good seamen as ever walked a plank.”

Captain M — ordered the crew of the lugger aft of the quarter-deck, and put the question to them whether they would not prefer entering his Majesty’s service to the confinement of a prison: but, at the moment, they felt too indignant at having been captured by the frigate to listen to the proposal, and refused to a man. Captain M — turned away disappointed, surveying the fine body of men with a covetous eye, as they were ranged in a line on his quarter-deck. He felt what a prize they would be to him, if he could have added them to his own ship’s company; for at that time it was almost impossible to man the number of ships which were employed in an effective manner.

“Will you allow me to try what I can do for you, sir?” said McElvina, as the men disappeared from the quarter-deck, to their former station as prisoners. Having received the nod of assent on the part of Captain M — , McElvina went down to the men, who gathered round him. He forcibly pointed out to them the advantages of the proposal, and the good chance they had of enriching themselves by the prize-money they would make in a frigate which could capture such a fast-sailing vessel as the lugger. He also dwelt upon the misery of the prison which awaited them: but what decided them was the observation that, in all probability, they would not be permitted (now that seamen were in such request) to remain in prison, but would be drafted in several ships, and be separated; whereas, by now entering for Captain M — , they would all remain shipmates as before.

Having obtained their unanimous consent, McElvina, with a pleased countenance, came aft, followed by his men, and informed Captain M — that they had agreed to enter for his ship. “Allow me to congratulate you, sir, on your good fortune, as you will yourself acknowledge it to be, when you find out what an addition they will be to your ship’s company.”

“I am indebted to you for your interference, sir,” replied Captain M — , “and shall not prove ungrateful. Your conduct in this affair makes me inclined to ask another favour. I believe you can give me some valuable information, if you choose. Whether you are inclined to do so, I am not yet sure; but I now think that you will.”

“You will find me an Englishman, body and soul, sir and although I have, in defence of my profession, been occasionally necessitated to choose between capture and resistance, I can most conscientiously say, that every shot I have fired against my own countrymen has smitten me to the heart;” (and this assertion was true, although we have no time to analyse McElvina’s feelings at present). “I am not bound by honour, nor have I the least inclination, to conceal any information I may have obtained, when in the French ports. I went there to serve my purposes, and they allowed me to do so to serve their own. I never would (although repeatedly offered bribes) bring them any information relative to the proceedings of our own country, and I shall most cheerfully answer your questions; indeed, I have information which I would have given you before now, had I not felt that it might be supposed I was actuated more by a view of serving myself than my country. I only wish, Captain M — , that you may fall in with a French frigate before I leave your ship, that I may prove to you that I can fight as well for old England as I have done in defence of property entrusted to my charge.”

“Then do me the favour to step down into the cabin,” said Captain M — .

Captain M — and McElvina were shut up in the after-cabin for some time; and the information received by Captain M — was so important, that he determined not to anchor. He put all the French prisoners on board of the lugger at the entrance of the Sound, and, sending in a boat to take out the major part of the men who had charge of her, he retained McElvina on board of the frigate, and made all sail for the French coast.