The Perils of Certain English Prisoners

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Transcribed from the 1894 Chapman and what to look for in doll feeding setsHall “Christmas Stories”edition by David Price, email [email protected]

THE PERILS OF CERTAIN ENGLISH PRISONERS

CHAPTER I—THE ISLAND OF SILVER-STORE

It was in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and forty-four,that I, Gill Davis to command, His Mark, having then the honour to bea private in the Royal Marines, stood a-leaning over the bulwarks ofthe armed sloop Christopher Columbus, in the South American waters offthe Mosquito shore.

My lady remarks to me, before I go any further, that there is nosuch christian-name as Gill, and that her confident opinion is, thatthe name given to me in the baptism wherein I was made, &c., wasGilbert.  She is certain to be right, but I never heard of it. I was a foundling child, picked up somewhere or another, and I alwaysunderstood my christian-name to be Gill.  It is true that I wascalled Gills when employed at Snorridge Bottom betwixt Chatham and Maidstoneto frighten birds; but that had nothing to do with the Baptism whereinI was made, &c., and wherein a number of things were promised forme by somebody, who let me alone ever afterwards as to performing anyof them, and who, I consider, must have been the Beadle.  Suchname of Gills was entirely owing to my cheeks, or gills, which at thattime of my life were of a raspy description.

My lady stops me again, before I go any further, by laughing exactlyin her old way and waving the feather of her pen at me.  That actionon her part, calls to my mind as I look at her hand with the rings onit—Well!  I won’t!  To be sure it will come in,in its own place.  But it’s always strange to me, noticingthe quiet hand, and noticing it (as I have done, you know, so many times)a-fondling children and grandchildren asleep, to think that when bloodand honour were up—there!  I won’t! not at present!—Scratchit out.

She won’t scratch it out, and quite honourable; because wehave made an understanding that everything is to be taken down, andthat nothing that is once taken down shall be scratched out.  Ihave the great misfortune not to be able to read and write, and I amspeaking my true and faithful account of those Adventures, and my ladyis writing it, word for word.

I say, there I was, a-leaning over the bulwarks of the sloop ChristopherColumbus in the South American waters off the Mosquito shore: a subjectof his Gracious Majesty King George of England, and a private in theRoyal Marines.

In those climates, you don’t want to do much.  I was doingnothing.  I was thinking of the shepherd (my father, I wonder?)on the hillsides by Snorridge Bottom, with a long staff, and with arough white coat in all weathers all the year round, who used to letme lie in a corner of his hut by night, and who used to let me go aboutwith him and his sheep by day when I could get nothing else to do, andwho used to give me so little of his victuals and so much of his staff,that I ran away from him—which was what he wanted all along, Iexpect—to be knocked about the world in preference to SnorridgeBottom.  I had been knocked about the world for nine-and-twentyyears in all, when I stood looking along those bright blue South AmericanWaters.  Looking after the shepherd, I may say.  Watchinghim in a half-waking dream, with my eyes half-shut, as he, and his flockof sheep, and his two dogs, seemed to move away from the ship’sside, far away over the blue water, and go right down into the sky.

“It’s rising out of the water, steady,” a voicesaid close to me.  I had been thinking on so, that it like wokeme with a start, though it was no stranger voice than the voice of HarryCharker, my own comrade.

“What’s rising out of the water, steady?” I askedmy comrade.

“What?” says he.  “The Island.”

“O!  The Island!” says I, turning my eyes towardsit.  “True.  I forgot the Island.”

“Forgot the port you’re going to?  That’sodd, ain’t it?”

“It is odd,” says I.

“And odd,” he said, slowly considering with himself,“ain’t even.  Is it, Gill?”

He had always a remark just like that to make, and seldom another. As soon as he had brought a thing round to what it was not, he was satisfied. He was one of the best of men, and, in a certain sort of a way, onewith the least to say for himself.  I qualify it, because, besidesbeing able to read and write like a Quarter-master, he had always onemost excellent idea in his mind.  That was, Duty.  Upon mysoul, I don’t believe, though I admire learning beyond everything,that he could have got a better idea out of all the books in the world,if he had learnt them every word, and been the cleverest of scholars.

My comrade and I had been quartered in Jamaica, and from there wehad been drafted off to the British settlement of Belize, lying awayWest and North of the Mosquito coast.  At Belize there had beengreat alarm of one cruel gang of pirates (there were always more piratesthan enough in those Caribbean Seas), and as they got the better ofour English cruisers by running into out-of-the-way creeks and shallows,and taking the land when they were hotly pressed, the governor of Belizehad received orders from home to keep a sharp look-out for them alongshore.  Now, there was an armed sloop came once a-year from PortRoyal, Jamaica, to the Island, laden with all manner of necessaries,to eat, and to drink, and to wear, and to use in various ways; and itwas aboard of that sloop which had touched at Belize, that I was a-standing,leaning over the bulwarks.

The Island was occupied by a very small English colony.  Ithad been given the name of Silver-Store.  The reason of its beingso called, was, that the English colony owned and worked a silver-mineover on the mainland, in Honduras, and used this Island as a safe andconvenient place to store their silver in, until it was annually fetchedaway by the sloop.  It was brought down from the mine to the coaston the backs of mules, attended by friendly Indians and guarded by whitemen; from thence it was conveyed over to Silver-Store, when the weatherwas fair, in the canoes of that country; from Silver-Store, it was carriedto Jamaica by the armed sloop once a-year, as I have already mentioned;from Jamaica, it went, of course, all over the world.

How I came to be aboard the armed sloop, is easily told.  Four-and-twentymarines under command of a lieutenant—that officer’s namewas Linderwood—had been told off at Belize, to proceed to Silver-Store,in aid of boats and seamen stationed there for the chase of the Pirates. The Island was considered a good post of observation against the pirates,both by land and sea; neither the pirate ship nor yet her boats hadbeen seen by any of us, but they had been so much heard of, that thereinforcement was sent.  Of that party, I was one.  It includeda corporal and a sergeant.  Charker was corporal, and the sergeant’sname was Drooce.  He was the most tyrannical non-commissioned officerin His Majesty’s service.

The night came on, soon after I had had the foregoing words withCharker.  All the wonderful bright colours went out of the seaand sky in a few minutes, and all the stars in the Heavens seemed toshine out together, and to look down at themselves in the sea, overone another’s shoulders, millions deep.  Next morning, wecast anchor off the Island.  There was a snug harbour within alittle reef; there was a sandy beach; there were cocoa-nut trees withhigh straight stems, quite bare, and foliage at the top like plumesof magnificent green feathers; there were all the objects that are usuallyseen in those parts, and Iam not going to describe them, havingsomething else to tell about.

Great rejoicings, to be sure, were made on our arrival.  Allthe flags in the place were hoisted, all the guns in the place werefired, and all the people in the place came down to look at us. One of those Sambo fellows—they call those natives Sambos, whenthey are half-negro and half-Indian—had come off outside the reef,to pilot us in, and remained on board after we had let go our anchor. He was called Christian George King, and was fonder of all hands thananybody else was.  Now, I confess, for myself, that on that firstday, if I had been captain of the Christopher Columbus, instead of privatein the Royal Marines, I should have kicked Christian George King—whowas no more a Christian than he was a King or a George—over theside, without exactly knowing why, except that it was the right thingto do.

But, I must likewise confess, that I was not in a particularly pleasanthumour, when I stood under arms that morning, aboard the ChristopherColumbus in the harbour of the Island of Silver-Store.  I had hada hard life, and the life of the English on the Island seemed too easyand too gay to please me.  “Here you are,” I thoughtto myself, “good scholars and good livers; able to read what youlike, able to write what you like, able to eat and drink what you like,and spend what you like, and do what you like; and much youcarefor a poor, ignorant Private in the Royal Marines!  Yet it’shard, too, I think, that you should have all the half-pence, and I allthe kicks; you all the smooth, and I all the rough; you all the oil,and I all the vinegar.”  It was as envious a thing to thinkas might be, let alone its being nonsensical; but, I thought it. I took it so much amiss, that, when a very beautiful young English ladycame aboard, I grunted to myself, “Ah! youhave got a lover,I’ll be bound!”  As if there was any new offence tome in that, if she had!

She was sister to the captain of our sloop, who had been in a poorway for some time, and who was so ill then that he was obliged to becarried ashore.  She was the child of a military officer, and hadcome out there with her sister, who was married to one of the ownersof the silver-mine, and who had three children with her.  It waseasy to see that she was the light and spirit of the Island.  AfterI had got a good look at her, I grunted to myself again, in an evenworse state of mind than before, “I’ll be damned, if I don’thate him, whoever he is!”

My officer, Lieutenant Linderwood, was as ill as the captain of thesloop, and was carried ashore, too.  They were both young men ofabout my age, who had been delicate in the West India climate. I even took thatin bad part.  I thought I was much fitterfor the work than they were, and that if all of us had our deserts,I should be both of them rolled into one.  (It may be imaginedwhat sort of an officer of marines I should have made, without the powerof reading a written order.  And as to any knowledge how to commandthe sloop—Lord!  I should have sunk her in a quarter of anhour!)

However, such were my reflections; and when we men were ashore anddismissed, I strolled about the place along with Charker, making myobservations in a similar spirit.

It was a pretty place: in all its arrangements partly South Americanand partly English, and very agreeable to look at on that account, beinglike a bit of home that had got chipped off and had floated away tothat spot, accommodating itself to circumstances as it drifted along. The huts of the Sambos, to the number of five-and-twenty, perhaps, weredown by the beach to the left of the anchorage.  On the right wasa sort of barrack, with a South American Flag and the Union Jack, flyingfrom the same staff, where the little English colony could all cometogether, if they saw occasion.  It was a walled square of building,with a sort of pleasure-ground inside, and inside that again a sunkenblock like a powder magazine, with a little square trench round it,and steps down to the door.  Charker and I were looking in at thegate, which was not guarded; and I had said to Charker, in referenceto the bit like a powder magazine, “That’s where they keepthe silver you see;” and Charker had said to me, after thinkingit over, “And silver ain’t gold.  Is it, Gill?”when the beautiful young English lady I had been so bilious about, lookedout of a door, or a window—at all events looked out, from undera bright awning.  She no sooner saw us two in uniform, than shecame out so quickly that she was still putting on her broad Mexicanhat of plaited straw when we saluted.

“Would you like to come in,” she said, “and seethe place?  It is rather a curious place.”

We thanked the young lady, and said we didn’t wish to be troublesome;but, she said it could be no trouble to an English soldier’s daughter,to show English soldiers how their countrymen and country-women fared,so far away from England; and consequently we saluted again, and wentin.  Then, as we stood in the shade, she showed us (being as affableas beautiful), how the different families lived in their separate houses,and how there was a general house for stores, and a general reading-room,and a general room for music and dancing, and a room for Church; andhow there were other houses on the rising ground called the Signal Hill,where they lived in the hotter weather.

“Your officer has been carried up there,” she said, “andmy brother, too, for the better air.  At present, our few residentsare dispersed over both spots: deducting, that is to say, such of ournumber as are always going to, or coming from, or staying at, the Mine.”

(“Heis among one of those parties,” I thought,“and I wish somebody would knock his head off.”)

“Some of our married ladies live here,” she said, “duringat least half the year, as lonely as widows, with their children.”

“Many children here, ma’am?”

“Seventeen.  There are thirteen married ladies, and thereare eight like me.”

There were not eight like her—there was not one like her—inthe world.  She meant single.

“Which, with about thirty Englishmen of various degrees,”said the young lady, “form the little colony now on the Island. I don’t count the sailors, for they don’t belong to us. Nor the soldiers,” she gave us a gracious smile when she spokeof the soldiers, “for the same reason.”

“Nor the Sambos, ma’am,” said I.

“No.”

“Under your favour, and with your leave, ma’am,”said I, “are they trustworthy?”

“Perfectly!  We are all very kind to them, and they arevery grateful to us.”

“Indeed, ma’am?  Now—Christian George King?—”

“Very much attached to us all.  Would die for us.”

She was, as in my uneducated way I have observed, very beautifulwomen almost always to be, so composed, that her composure gave greatweight to what she said, and I believed it.

Then, she pointed out to us the building like a powder magazine,and explained to us in what manner the silver was brought from the mine,and was brought over from the mainland, and was stored here.  TheChristopher Columbus would have a rich lading, she said, for there hadbeen a great yield that year, a much richer yield than usual, and therewas a chest of jewels besides the silver.

When we had looked about us, and were getting sheepish, through fearingwe were troublesome, she turned us over to a young woman, English bornbut West India bred, who served her as her maid.  This young womanwas the widow of a non-commissioned officer in a regiment of the line. She had got married and widowed at St. Vincent, with only a few monthsbetween the two events.  She was a little saucy woman, with a brightpair of eyes, rather a neat little foot and figure, and rather a neatlittle turned-up nose.  The sort of young woman, I considered atthe time, who appeared to invite you to give her a kiss, and who wouldhave slapped your face if you accepted the invitation.

I couldn’t make out her name at first; for, when she gave itin answer to my inquiry, it sounded like Beltot, which didn’tsound right.  But, when we became better acquainted—whichwas while Charker and I were drinking sugar-cane sangaree, which shemade in a most excellent manner—I found that her Christian namewas Isabella, which they shortened into Bell, and that the name of thedeceased non-commissioned officer was Tott.  Being the kind ofneat little woman it was natural to make a toy of—I never sawa woman so like a toy in my life—she had got the plaything nameof Belltott.  In short, she had no other name on the island. Even Mr. Commissioner Pordage (and hewas a grave one!) formallyaddressed her as Mrs. Belltott, but, I shall come to Mr. CommissionerPordage presently.

The name of the captain of the sloop was Captain Maryon, and thereforeit was no news to hear from Mrs. Belltott, that his sister, the beautifulunmarried young English lady, was Miss Maryon.  The novelty was,that her christian-name was Marion too.  Marion Maryon.  Manya time I have run off those two names in my thoughts, like a bit ofverse.  Oh many, and many, and many a time!

We saw out all the drink that was produced, like good men and true,and then took our leaves, and went down to the beach.  The weatherwas beautiful; the wind steady, low, and gentle; the island, a picture;the sea, a picture; the sky, a picture.  In that country thereare two rainy seasons in the year.  One sets in at about our EnglishMidsummer; the other, about a fortnight after our English Michaelmas. It was the beginning of August at that time; the first of these rainyseasons was well over; and everything was in its most beautiful growth,and had its loveliest look upon it.

“They enjoy themselves here,” I says to Charker, turningsurly again.  “This is better than private-soldiering.”

We had come down to the beach, to be friendly with the boat’s-crewwho were camped and hutted there; and we were approaching towards theirquarters over the sand, when Christian George King comes up from thelanding-place at a wolf’s-trot, crying, “Yup, So-Jeer!”—whichwas that Sambo Pilot’s barbarous way of saying, Hallo, Soldier! I have stated myself to be a man of no learning, and, if I entertainprejudices, I hope allowance may be made.  I will now confess toone.  It may be a right one or it may be a wrong one; but, I neverdid like Natives, except in the form of oysters.

So, when Christian George King, who was individually unpleasant tome besides, comes a trotting along the sand, clucking, “Yup, So-Jeer!” I had a thundering good mind to let fly at him with my right. I certainly should have done it, but that it would have exposed me toreprimand.

“Yup, So-Jeer!” says he.  “Bad job.”

“What do you mean?” says I.

“Yup, So-Jeer!” says he, “Ship Leakee.”

“Ship leaky?” says I.

“Iss,” says he, with a nod that looked as if it was jerkedout of him by a most violent hiccup—which is the way with thosesavages.

I cast my eyes at Charker, and we both heard the pumps going aboardthe sloop, and saw the signal run up, “Come on board; hands wantedfrom the shore.”  In no time some of the sloop’s liberty-menwere already running down to the water’s edge, and the party ofseamen, under orders against the Pirates, were putting off to the Columbusin two boats.

“O Christian George King sar berry sorry!” says thatSambo vagabond, then.  “Christian George King cry, Englishfashion!”  His English fashion of crying was to screw hisblack knuckles into his eyes, howl like a dog, and roll himself on hisback on the sand.  It was trying not to kick him, but I gave Charkerthe word, “Double-quick, Harry!” and we got down to thewater’s edge, and got on board the sloop.

By some means or other, she had sprung such a leak, that no pumpingwould keep her free; and what between the two fears that she would godown in the harbour, and that, even if she did not, all the suppliesshe had brought for the little colony would be destroyed by the sea-wateras it rose in her, there was great confusion.  In the midst ofit, Captain Maryon was heard hailing from the beach.  He had beencarried down in his hammock, and looked very bad; but he insisted onbeing stood there on his feet; and I saw him, myself, come off in theboat, sitting upright in the stern-sheets, as if nothing was wrong withhim.

A quick sort of council was held, and Captain Maryon soon resolvedthat we must all fall to work to get the cargo out, and that when thatwas done, the guns and heavy matters must be got out, and that the sloopmust be hauled ashore, and careened, and the leak stopped.  Wewere all mustered (the Pirate-Chace party volunteering), and told offinto parties, with so many hours of spell and so many hours of relief,and we all went at it with a will.  Christian George King was enteredone of the party in which I worked, at his own request, and he wentat it with as good a will as any of the rest.  He went at it withso much heartiness, to say the truth, that he rose in my good opinionalmost as fast as the water rose in the ship.  Which was fast enough,and faster.

Mr. Commissioner Pordage kept in a red-and-black japanned box, likea family lump-sugar box, some document or other, which some Sambo chiefor other had got drunk and spilt some ink over (as well as I could understandthe matter), and by that means had given up lawful possession of theIsland.  Through having hold of this box, Mr. Pordage got his titleof Commissioner.  He was styled Consul too, and spoke of himselfas “Government.”

He was a stiff-jointed, high-nosed old gentleman, without an ounceof fat on him, of a very angry temper and a very yellow complexion. Mrs. Commissioner Pordage, making allowance for difference of sex, wasmuch the same.  Mr. Kitten, a small, youngish, bald, botanicaland mineralogical gentleman, also connected with the mine—buteverybody there was that, more or less—was sometimes called byMr. Commissioner Pordage, his Vice-commissioner, and sometimes his Deputy-consul. Or sometimes he spoke of Mr. Kitten, merely as being “under Government.”

The beach was beginning to be a lively scene with the preparationsfor careening the sloop, and with cargo, and spars, and rigging, andwater-casks, dotted about it, and with temporary quarters for the menrising up there out of such sails and odds and ends as could be bestset on one side to make them, when Mr. Commissioner Pordage comes downin a high fluster, and asks for Captain Maryon.  The Captain, illas he was, was slung in his hammock betwixt two trees, that he mightdirect; and he raised his head, and answered for himself.

“Captain Maryon,” cries Mr. Commissioner Pordage, “thisis not official.  This is not regular.”

“Sir,” says the Captain, “it hath been arrangedwith the clerk and supercargo, that you should be communicated with,and requested to render any little assistance that may lie in your power. I am quite certain that hath been duly done.”

“Captain Maryon,” replied Mr. Commissioner Pordage, “therehath been no written correspondence.  No documents have passed,no memoranda have been made, no minutes have been made, no entries andcounter-entries appear in the official muniments.  This is indecent. I call upon you, sir, to desist, until all is regular, or Governmentwill take this up.”

“Sir,” says Captain Maryon, chafing a little, as he lookedout of his hammock; “between the chances of Government takingthis up, and my ship taking herself down, I much prefer to trust myselfto the former.”

“You do, sir?” cries Mr. Commissioner Pordage.

“I do, sir,” says Captain Maryon, lying down again.

“Then, Mr. Kitten,” says the Commissioner, “sendup instantly for my Diplomatic coat.”

He was dressed in a linen suit at that moment; but, Mr. Kitten startedoff himself and brought down the Diplomatic coat, which was a blue clothone, gold-laced, and with a crown on the button.

“Now, Mr. Kitten,” says Pordage, “I instruct you,as Vice-commissioner, and Deputy-consul of this place, to demand ofCaptain Maryon, of the sloop Christopher Columbus, whether he drivesme to the act of putting this coat on?”

“Mr. Pordage,” says Captain Maryon, looking out of hishammock again, “as I can hear what you say, I can answer it withouttroubling the gentleman.  I should be sorry that you should beat the pains of putting on too hot a coat on my account; but, otherwise,you may put it on hind-side before, or inside-out, or with your legsin the sleeves, or your head in the skirts, for any objection that Ihave to offer to your thoroughly pleasing yourself.”

“Very good, Captain Maryon,” says Pordage, in a tremendouspassion.  “Very good, sir.  Be the consequences on yourown head!  Mr. Kitten, as it has come to this, help me on withit.”

When he had given that order, he walked off in the coat, and allour names were taken, and I was afterwards told that Mr. Kitten wrotefrom his dictation more than a bushel of large paper on the subject,which cost more before it was done with, than ever could be calculated,and which only got done with after all, by being lost.

Our work went on merrily, nevertheless, and the Christopher Columbus,hauled up, lay helpless on her side like a great fish out of water. While she was in that state, there was a feast, or a ball, or an entertainment,or more properly all three together, given us in honour of the ship,and the ship’s company, and the other visitors.  At thatassembly, I believe, I saw all the inhabitants then upon the Island,without any exception.  I took no particular notice of more thana few, but I found it very agreeable in that little corner of the worldto see the children, who were of all ages, and mostly very pretty—asthey mostly are.  There was one handsome elderly lady, with verydark eyes and gray hair, that I inquired about.  I was told thather name was Mrs. Venning; and her married daughter, a fair slight thing,was pointed out to me by the name of Fanny Fisher.  Quite a childshe looked, with a little copy of herself holding to her dress; andher husband, just come back from the mine, exceeding proud of her. They were a good-looking set of people on the whole, but I didn’tlike them.  I was out of sorts; in conversation with Charker, Ifound fault with all of them.  I said of Mrs. Venning, she wasproud; of Mrs. Fisher, she was a delicate little baby-fool.  Whatdid I think of this one?  Why, he was a fine gentleman.  Whatdid I say to that one?  Why, she was a fine lady.  What couldyou expect them to be (I asked Charker), nursed in that climate, withthe tropical night shining for them, musical instruments playing tothem, great trees bending over them, soft lamps lighting them, fire-fliessparkling in among them, bright flowers and birds brought into existenceto please their eyes, delicious drinks to be had for the pouring out,delicious fruits to be got for the picking, and every one dancing andmurmuring happily in the scented air, with the sea breaking low on thereef for a pleasant chorus.

“Fine gentlemen and fine ladies, Harry?” I says to Charker. “Yes, I think so!  Dolls!  Dolls!  Not the sortof stuff for wear, that comes of poor private soldiering in the RoyalMarines!”

However, I could not gainsay that they were very hospitable people,and that they treated us uncommonly well.  Every man of us wasat the entertainment, and Mrs. Belltott had more partners than she coulddance with: though she danced all night, too.  As to Jack (whetherof the Christopher Columbus, or of the Pirate pursuit party, it madeno difference), he danced with his brother Jack, danced with himself,danced with the moon, the stars, the trees, the prospect, anything. I didn’t greatly take to the chief-officer of that party, withhis bright eyes, brown face, and easy figure.  I didn’t muchlike his way when he first happened to come where we were, with MissMaryon on his arm.  “O, Captain Carton,” she says,“here are two friends of mine!”  He says, “Indeed? These two Marines?”—meaning Charker and self.  “Yes,”says she, “I showed these two friends of mine when they firstcame, all the wonders of Silver-Store.”  He gave us a laughinglook, and says he, “You are in luck, men.  I would be disratedand go before the mast to-morrow, to be shown the way upward again bysuch a guide.  You are in luck, men.”  When we had saluted,and he and the lady had waltzed away, I said, “You are a prettyfollow, too, to talk of luck.  You may go to the Devil!”

Mr. Commissioner Pordage and Mrs. Commissioner, showed among thecompany on that occasion like the King and Queen of a much Greater Britainthan Great Britain.  Only two other circumstances in that jovialnight made much separate impression on me.  One was this. A man in our draft of marines, named Tom Packer, a wild unsteady youngfellow, but the son of a respectable shipwright in Portsmouth Yard,and a good scholar who had been well brought up, comes to me after aspell of dancing, and takes me aside by the elbow, and says, swearingangrily:

“Gill Davis, I hope I may not be the death of Sergeant Drooceone day!”

Now, I knew Drooce had always borne particularly hard on this man,and I knew this man to be of a very hot temper: so, I said:

“Tut, nonsense! don’t talk so to me!  If there’sa man in the corps who scorns the name of an assassin, that man andTom Packer are one.”

Tom wipes his head, being in a mortal sweat, and says he:

“I hope so, but I can’t answer for myself when he lordsit over me, as he has just now done, before a woman.  I tell youwhat, Gill!  Mark my words!  It will go hard with SergeantDrooce, if ever we are in an engagement together, and he has to lookto me to save him.  Let him say a prayer then, if he knows one,for it’s all over with him, and he is on his Death-bed. Mark my words!”

I did mark his words, and very soon afterwards, too, as will shortlybe taken down.

The other circumstance that I noticed at that ball, was, the gaietyand attachment of Christian George King.  The innocent spiritsthat Sambo Pilot was in, and the impossibility he found himself underof showing all the little colony, but especially the ladies and children,how fond he was of them, how devoted to them, and how faithful to themfor life and death, for present, future, and everlasting, made a greatimpression on me.  If ever a man, Sambo or no Sambo, was trustfuland trusted, to what may be called quite an infantine and sweetly beautifulextent, surely, I thought that morning when I did at last lie down torest, it was that Sambo Pilot, Christian George King.

This may account for my dreaming of him.  He stuck in my sleep,cornerwise, and I couldn’t get him out.  He was always flittingabout me, dancing round me, and peeping in over my hammock, though Iwoke and dozed off again fifty times.  At last, when I opened myeyes, there he really was, looking in at the open side of the littledark hut; which was made of leaves, and had Charker’s hammockslung in it as well as mine.

“So-Jeer!” says he, in a sort of a low croak.  “Yup!”

“Hallo!” says I, starting up.  “What? You arethere, are you?”

“Iss,” says he.  “Christian George King gotnews.”

“What news has he got?”

“Pirates out!”

I was on my feet in a second.  So was Charker.  We wereboth aware that Captain Carton, in command of the boats, constantlywatched the mainland for a secret signal, though, of course, it wasnot known to such as us what the signal was.

Christian George King had vanished before we touched the ground. But, the word was already passing from hut to hut to turn out quietly,and we knew that the nimble barbarian had got hold of the truth, orsomething near it.

In a space among the trees behind the encampment of us visitors,naval and military, was a snugly-screened spot, where we kept the storesthat were in use, and did our cookery.  The word was passed toassemble here.  It was very quickly given, and was given (so faras we were concerned) by Sergeant Drooce, who was as good in a soldierpoint of view, as he was bad in a tyrannical one.  We were orderedto drop into this space, quietly, behind the trees, one by one. As we assembled here, the seamen assembled too.  Within ten minutes,as I should estimate, we were all here, except the usual guard uponthe beach.  The beach (we could see it through the wood) lookedas it always had done in the hottest time of the day.  The guardwere in the shadow of the sloop’s hull, and nothing was movingbut the sea,—and that moved very faintly.  Work had alwaysbeen knocked off at that hour, until the sun grew less fierce, and thesea-breeze rose; so that its being holiday with us, made no difference,just then, in the look of the place.  But I may mention that itwas a holiday, and the first we had had since our hard work began. Last night’s ball had been given, on the leak’s being repaired,and the careening done.  The worst of the work was over, and to-morrowwe were to begin to get the sloop afloat again.

We marines were now drawn up here under arms.  The chace-partywere drawn up separate.  The men of the Columbus were drawn upseparate.  The officers stepped out into the midst of the threeparties, and spoke so as all might hear.  Captain Carton was theofficer in command, and he had a spy-glass in his hand.  His coxswainstood by him with another spy-glass, and with a slate on which he seemedto have been taking down signals.

“Now, men!” says Captain Carton; “I have to letyou know, for your satisfaction: Firstly, that there are ten pirate-boats,strongly manned and armed, lying hidden up a creek yonder on the coast,under the overhanging branches of the dense trees.  Secondly, thatthey will certainly come out this night when the moon rises, on a pillagingand murdering expedition, of which some part of the mainland is theobject.  Thirdly—don’t cheer, men!—that we willgive chace, and, if we can get at them, rid the world of them, pleaseGod!”

Nobody spoke, that I heard, and nobody moved, that I saw.  Yetthere was a kind of ring, as if every man answered and approved withthe best blood that was inside of him.

“Sir,” says Captain Maryon, “I beg to volunteeron this service, with my boats.  My people volunteer, to the ship’sboys.”

“In His Majesty’s name and service,” the otheranswers, touching his hat, “I accept your aid with pleasure. Lieutenant Linderwood, how will you divide your men?”

I was ashamed—I give it out to be written down as large andplain as possible—I was heart and soul ashamed of my thoughtsof those two sick officers, Captain Maryon and Lieutenant Linderwood,when I saw them, then and there.  The spirit in those two gentlemenbeat down their illness (and very ill I knew them to be) like SaintGeorge beating down the Dragon.  Pain and weakness, want of easeand want of rest, had no more place in their minds than fear itself. Meaning now to express for my lady to write down, exactly what I feltthen and there, I felt this: “You two brave fellows that I hadbeen so grudgeful of, I know that if you were dying you would put itoff to get up and do your best, and then you would be so modest thatin lying down again to die, you would hardly say, ‘I did it!’”

It did me good.  It really did me good.

But, to go back to where I broke off.  Says Captain Carton toLieutenant Linderwood, “Sir, how will you divide your men? There is not room for all; and a few men should, in any case, be lefthere.”

There was some debate about it.  At last, it was resolved toleave eight Marines and four seamen on the Island, besides the sloop’stwo boys.  And because it was considered that the friendly Samboswould only want to be commanded in case of any danger (though none atall was apprehended there), the officers were in favour of leaving thetwo non-commissioned officers, Drooce and Charker.  It was a heavydisappointment to them, just as my being one of the left was a heavydisappointment to me—then, but not soon afterwards.  We mendrew lots for it, and I drew “Island.”  So did TomPacker.  So of course, did four more of our rank and file.

When this was settled, verbal instructions were given to all handsto keep the intended expedition secret, in order that the women andchildren might not be alarmed, or the expedition put in a difficultyby more volunteers.  The assembly was to be on that same spot atsunset.  Every man was to keep up an appearance, meanwhile, ofoccupying himself in his usual way.  That is to say, every manexcepting four old trusty seamen, who were appointed, with an officer,to see to the arms and ammunition, and to muffle the rullocks of theboats, and to make everything as trim and swift and silent as it couldbe made.

The Sambo Pilot had been present all the while, in case of his beingwanted, and had said to the officer in command, five hundred times overif he had said it once, that Christian George King would stay with theSo-Jeers, and take care of the booffer ladies and the booffer childs—boofferbeing that native’s expression for beautiful.  He was nowasked a few questions concerning the putting off of the boats, and inparticular whether there was any way of embarking at the back of theIsland: which Captain Carton would have half liked to do, and then havedropped round in its shadow and slanted across to the main.  But,“No,” says Christian George King.  “No, no, no! Told you so, ten time.  No, no, no!  All reef, all rock, allswim, all drown!”  Striking out as he said it, like a swimmergone mad, and turning over on his back on dry land, and splutteringhimself to death, in a manner that made him quite an exhibition.

The sun went down, after appearing to be a long time about it, andthe assembly was called.  Every man answered to his name, of course,and was at his post.  It was not yet black dark, and the roll wasonly just gone through, when up comes Mr. Commissioner Pordage withhis Diplomatic coat on.

“Captain Carton,” says he, “Sir, what is this?”

“This, Mr. Commissioner” (he was very short with him),“is an expedition against the Pirates.  It is a secret expedition,so please to keep it a secret.”

“Sir,” says Commissioner Pordage, “I trust thereis going to be no unnecessary cruelty committed?”

“Sir,” returns the officer, “I trust not.”

“That is not enough, sir,” cries Commissioner Pordage,getting wroth.  “Captain Carton, I give you notice. Government requires you to treat the enemy with great delicacy, consideration,clemency, and forbearance.”

“Sir,” says Captain Carton, “I am an English officer,commanding English Men, and I hope I am not likely to disappoint theGovernment’s just expectations.  But, I presume you knowthat these villains under their black flag have despoiled our countrymenof their property, burnt their homes, barbarously murdered them andtheir little children, and worse than murdered their wives and daughters?”

“Perhaps I do, Captain Carton,” answers Pordage, wavinghis hand, with dignity; “perhaps I do not.  It is not customary,sir, for Government to commit itself.”

“It matters very little, Mr. Pordage, whether or no. Believing that I hold my commission by the allowance of God, and notthat I have received it direct from the Devil, I shall certainly useit, with all avoidance of unnecessary suffering and with all mercifulswiftness of execution, to exterminate these people from the face ofthe earth.  Let me recommend you to go home, sir, and to keep outof the night-air.”

Never another syllable did that officer say to the Commissioner,but turned away to his men.  The Commissioner buttoned his Diplomaticcoat to the chin, said, “Mr. Kitten, attend me!” gasped,half choked himself, and took himself off.

It now fell very dark, indeed.  I have seldom, if ever, seenit darker, nor yet so dark.  The moon was not due until one inthe morning, and it was but a little after nine when our men lay downwhere they were mustered.  It was pretended that they were to takea nap, but everybody knew that no nap was to be got under the circumstances. Though all were very quiet, there was a restlessness among the people;much what I have seen among the people on a race-course, when the bellhas rung for the saddling for a great race with large stakes on it.

At ten, they put off; only one boat putting off at a time; anotherfollowing in five minutes; both then lying on their oars until anotherfollowed.  Ahead of all, paddling his own outlandish little canoewithout a sound, went the Sambo pilot, to take them safely outside thereef.  No light was shown but once, and that was in the commandingofficer’s own hand.  I lighted the dark lantern for him,and he took it from me when he embarked.  They had blue lightsand such like with them, but kept themselves as dark as Murder.

The expedition got away with wonderful quietness, and Christian GeorgeKing soon came back dancing with joy.

“Yup, So-Jeer,” says he to myself in a very objectionablekind of convulsions, “Christian George King sar berry glad. Pirates all be blown a-pieces.  Yup!  Yup!”

My reply to that cannibal was, “However glad you may be, holdyour noise, and don’t dance jigs and slap your knees about it,for I can’t abear to see you do it.”

I was on duty then; we twelve who were left being divided into fourwatches of three each, three hours’ spell.  I was relievedat twelve.  A little before that time, I had challenged, and MissMaryon and Mrs. Belltott had come in.

“Good Davis,” says Miss Maryon, “what is the matter? Where is my brother?”

I told her what was the matter, and where her brother was.

“O Heaven help him!” says she, clasping her hands andlooking up—she was close in front of me, and she looked most lovelyto be sure; “he is not sufficiently recovered, not strong enoughfor such strife!”

“If you had seen him, miss,” I told her, “as Isaw him when he volunteered, you would have known that his spirit isstrong enough for any strife.  It will bear his body, miss, towherever duty calls him.  It will always bear him to an honourablelife, or a brave death.”

“Heaven bless you!” says she, touching my arm. “I know it.  Heaven bless you!”

Mrs. Belltott surprised me by trembling and saying nothing. They were still standing looking towards the sea and listening, afterthe relief had come round.  It continuing very dark, I asked tobe allowed to take them back.  Miss Maryon thanked me, and sheput her arm in mine, and I did take them back.  I have now gotto make a confession that will appear singular.  After I had leftthem, I laid myself down on my face on the beach, and cried for thefirst time since I had frightened birds as a boy at Snorridge Bottom,to think what a poor, ignorant, low-placed, private soldier I was.

It was only for half a minute or so.  A man can’t at alltimes be quite master of himself, and it was only for half a minuteor so.  Then I up and went to my hut, and turned into my hammock,and fell asleep with wet eyelashes, and a sore, sore heart.  Justas I had often done when I was a child, and had been worse used thanusual.

I slept (as a child under those circumstances might) very sound,and yet very sore at heart all through my sleep.  I was awoke bythe words, “He is a determined man.”  I had sprungout of my hammock, and had seized my firelock, and was standing on theground, saying the words myself.  “He is a determined man.” But, the curiosity of my state was, that I seemed to be repeating themafter somebody, and to have been wonderfully startled by hearing them.

As soon as I came to myself, I went out of the hut, and away to wherethe guard was.  Charker challenged:

“Who goes there?”

“A friend.”

“Not Gill?” says he, as he shouldered his piece.

“Gill,” says I.

“Why, what the deuce do you do out of your hammock?”says he.

“Too hot for sleep,” says I; “is all right?”

“Right!” says Charker, “yes, yes; all’s rightenough here; what should be wrong here?  It’s the boats thatwe want to know of.  Except for fire-flies twinkling about, andthe lonesome splashes of great creatures as they drop into the water,there’s nothing going on here to ease a man’s mind fromthe boats.”

The moon was above the sea, and had risen, I should say, some half-an-hour. As Charker spoke, with his face towards the sea, I, looking landward,suddenly laid my right hand on his breast, and said, “Don’tmove.  Don’t turn.  Don’t raise your voice! You never saw a Maltese face here?”

“No.  What do you mean?” he asks, staring at me.

“Nor yet, an English face, with one eye and a patch acrossthe nose?”

“No.  What ails you?  What do you mean?”

I had seen both, looking at us round the stem of a cocoa-nut tree,where the moon struck them.  I had seen that Sambo Pilot, withone hand laid on the stem of the tree, drawing them back into the heavyshadow.  I had seen their naked cutlasses twinkle and shine, likebits of the moonshine in the water that had got blown ashore among thetrees by the light wind.  I had seen it all, in a moment. And I saw in a moment (as any man would), that the signalled move ofthe pirates on the mainland was a plot and a feint; that the leak hadbeen made to disable the sloop; that the boats had been tempted away,to leave the Island unprotected; that the pirates had landed by somesecreted way at the back; and that Christian George King was a double-dyedtraitor, and a most infernal villain.

I considered, still all in one and the same moment, that Charkerwas a brave man, but not quick with his head; and that Sergeant Drooce,with a much better head, was close by.  All I said to Charker was,“I am afraid we are betrayed.  Turn your back full to themoonlight on the sea, and cover the stem of the cocoa-nut tree whichwill then be right before you, at the height of a man’s heart. Are you right?”

“I am right,” says Charker, turning instantly, and fallinginto the position with a nerve of iron; “and right ain’tleft.  Is it, Gill?”

A few seconds brought me to Sergeant Drooce’s hut.  Hewas fast asleep, and being a heavy sleeper, I had to lay my hand uponhim to rouse him.  The instant I touched him he came rolling outof his hammock, and upon me like a tiger.  And a tiger he was,except that he knew what he was up to, in his utmost heat, as well asany man.

I had to struggle with him pretty hard to bring him to his senses,panting all the while (for he gave me a breather), “Sergeant,I am Gill Davis!  Treachery!  Pirates on the Island!”

The last words brought him round, and he took his hands of. “I have seen two of them within this minute,” said I. And so I told him what I had told Harry Charker.

His soldierly, though tyrannical, head was clear in an instant. He didn’t waste one word, even of surprise.  “Orderthe guard,” says he, “to draw off quietly into the Fort.” (They called the enclosure I have before mentioned, the Fort, thoughit was not much of that.)  “Then get you to the Fort as quickas you can, rouse up every soul there, and fasten the gate.  Iwill bring in all those who are at the Signal Hill.  If we aresurrounded before we can join you, you must make a sally and cut usout if you can.  The word among our men is, ‘Women and children!’”

He burst away, like fire going before the wind over dry reeds. He roused up the seven men who were off duty, and had them burstingaway with him, before they know they were not asleep.  I reportedorders to Charker, and ran to the Fort, as I have never run at any othertime in all my life: no, not even in a dream.

The gate was not fast, and had no good fastening: only a double woodenbar, a poor chain, and a bad lock.  Those, I secured as well asthey could be secured in a few seconds by one pair of hands, and soran to that part of the building where Miss Maryon lived.  I calledto her loudly by her name until she answered.  I then called loudlyall the names I knew—Mrs. Macey (Miss Maryon’s married sister),Mr. Macey, Mrs. Venning, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, even Mr. and Mrs. Pordage. Then I called out, “All you gentlemen here, get up and defendthe place!  We are caught in a trap.  Pirates have landed. We are attacked!”

At the terrible word “Pirates!”—for, those villainshad done such deeds in those seas as never can be told in writing, andcan scarcely be so much as thought of—cries and screams rose upfrom every part of the place.  Quickly lights moved about fromwindow to window, and the cries moved about with them, and men, women,and children came flying down into the square.  I remarked to myself,even then, what a number of things I seemed to see at once.  Inoticed Mrs. Macey coming towards me, carrying all her three childrentogether.  I noticed Mr. Pordage in the greatest terror, in vaintrying to get on his Diplomatic coat; and Mr. Kitten respectfully tyinghis pocket-handkerchief over Mrs. Pordage’s nightcap.  Inoticed Mrs. Belltott run out screaming, and shrink upon the groundnear me, and cover her face in her hands, and lie all of a bundle, shivering. But, what I noticed with the greatest pleasure was, the determined eyeswith which those men of the Mine that I had thought fine gentlemen,came round me with what arms they had: to the full as cool and resoluteas I could be, for my life—ay, and for my soul, too, into thebargain!

The chief person being Mr. Macey, I told him how the three men ofthe guard would be at the gate directly, if they were not already there,and how Sergeant Drooce and the other seven were gone to bring in theoutlying part of the people of Silver-Store.  I next urged him,for the love of all who were dear to him, to trust no Sambo, and, aboveall, if he could got any good chance at Christian George King, not tolose it, but to put him out of the world.

“I will follow your advice to the letter, Davis,” sayshe; “what next?”

My answer was, “I think, sir, I would recommend you next, toorder down such heavy furniture and lumber as can be moved, and makea barricade within the gate.”

“That’s good again,” says he: “will you seeit done?”

“I’ll willingly help to do it,” says I, “unlessor until my superior, Sergeant Drooce, gives me other orders.”

He shook me by the hand, and having told off some of his companionsto help me, bestirred himself to look to the arms and ammunition. A proper quick, brave, steady, ready gentleman!

One of their three little children was deaf and dumb, Miss Maryonhad been from the first with all the children, soothing them, and dressingthem (poor little things, they had been brought out of their beds),and making them believe that it was a game of play, so that some ofthem were now even laughing.  I had been working hard with theothers at the barricade, and had got up a pretty good breastwork withinthe gate.  Drooce and the seven men had come back, bringing inthe people from the Signal Hill, and had worked along with us: but,I had not so much as spoken a word to Drooce, nor had Drooce so muchas spoken a word to me, for we were both too busy.  The breastworkwas now finished, and I found Miss Maryon at my side, with a child inher arms.  Her dark hair was fastened round her head with a band. She had a quantity of it, and it looked even richer and more precious,put up hastily out of her way, than I had seen it look when it was carefullyarranged.  She was very pale, but extraordinarily quiet and still.

“Dear good Davis,” said she, “I have been waitingto speak one word to you.”

I turned to her directly.  If I had received a musket-ball inthe heart, and she had stood there, I almost believe I should have turnedto her before I dropped.

“This pretty little creature,” said she, kissing thechild in her arms, who was playing with her hair and trying to pullit down, “cannot hear what we say—can hear nothing. I trust you so much, and have such great confidence in you, that I wantyou to make me a promise.”

“What is it, Miss?”

“That if we are defeated, and you are absolutely sure of mybeing taken, you will kill me.”

“I shall not be alive to do it, Miss.  I shall have diedin your defence before it comes to that.  They must step acrossmy body to lay a hand on you.”

“But, if you are alive, you brave soldier.”  Howshe looked at me!  “And if you cannot save me from the Pirates,living, you will save me, dead.  Tell me so.”

Well!  I told her I would do that at the last, if all else failed. She took my hand—my rough, coarse hand—and put it to herlips.  She put it to the child’s lips, and the child kissedit.  I believe I had the strength of half a dozen men in me, fromthat moment, until the fight was over.

All this time, Mr. Commissioner Pordage had been wanting to makea Proclamation to the Pirates to lay down their arms and go away; andeverybody had been hustling him about and tumbling over him, while hewas calling for pen and ink to write it with.  Mrs. Pordage, too,had some curious ideas about the British respectability of her nightcap(which had as many frills to it, growing in layers one inside another,as if it was a white vegetable of the artichoke sort), and she wouldn’ttake the nightcap off, and would be angry when it got crushed by theother ladies who were handing things about, and, in short, she gaveas much trouble as her husband did.  But, as we were now formingfor the defence of the place, they were both poked out of the way withno ceremony.  The children and ladies were got into the littletrench which surrounded the silver-house (we were afraid of leavingthem in any of the light buildings, lest they should be set on fire),and we made the best disposition we could.  There was a prettygood store, in point of amount, of tolerable swords and cutlasses. Those were issued.  There were, also, perhaps a score or so ofspare muskets.  Those were brought out.  To my astonishment,little Mrs. Fisher that I had taken for a doll and a baby, was not onlyvery active in that service, but volunteered to load the spare arms.

“For, I understand it well,” says she, cheerfully, withouta shake in her voice.

“I am a soldier’s daughter and a sailor’s sister,and I understand it too,” says Miss Maryon, just in the same way.

Steady and busy behind where I stood, those two beautiful and delicateyoung women fell to handling the guns, hammering the flints, lookingto the locks, and quietly directing others to pass up powder and bulletsfrom hand to hand, as unflinching as the best of tried soldiers.

Sergeant Drooce had brought in word that the pirates were very strongin numbers—over a hundred was his estimate—and that theywere not, even then, all landed; for, he had seen them in a very goodposition on the further side of the Signal Hill, evidently waiting forthe rest of their men to come up.  In the present pause, the firstwe had had since the alarm, he was telling this over again to Mr. Macey,when Mr. Macey suddenly cried our: “The signal!  Nobody hasthought of the signal!”

We knew of no signal, so we could not have thought of it.

“What signal may you mean, sir?” says Sergeant Drooce,looking sharp at him.

“There is a pile of wood upon the Signal Hill.  If itcould be lighted—which never has been done yet—it wouldbe a signal of distress to the mainland.”

Charker cries, directly: “Sergeant Drooce, dispatch me on thatduty.  Give me the two men who were on guard with me to-night,and I’ll light the fire, if it can be done.”

“And if it can’t, Corporal—” Mr. Macey strikesin.

“Look at these ladies and children, sir!” says Charker. “I’d sooner light myself, than not try any chanceto save them.”

We gave him a Hurrah!—it burst from us, come of it what might—andhe got his two men, and was let out at the gate, and crept away. I had no sooner come back to my place from being one of the party tohandle the gate, than Miss Maryon said in a low voice behind me:

“Davis, will you look at this powder?  This is not right.”

I turned my head.  Christian George King again, and treacheryagain!  Sea-water had been conveyed into the magazine, and everygrain of powder was spoiled!

“Stay a moment,” said Sergeant Drooce, when I had toldhim, without causing a movement in a muscle of his face: “lookto your pouch, my lad.  You Tom Packer, look to your pouch, confoundyou!  Look to your pouches, all you Marines.”

The same artful savage had got at them, somehow or another, and thecartridges were all unserviceable.  “Hum!” says theSergeant.  “Look to your loading, men.  You are rightso far?”

Yes; we were right so far.

“Well, my lads, and gentlemen all,” says the Sergeant,“this will be a hand-to-hand affair, and so much the better.”

He treated himself to a pinch of snuff, and stood up, square-shoulderedand broad-chested, in the light of the moon—which was now verybright—as cool as if he was waiting for a play to begin. He stood quiet, and we all stood quiet, for a matter of something likehalf-an-hour.  I took notice from such whispered talk as therewas, how little we that the silver did not belong to, thought aboutit, and how much the people that it did belong to, thought about it. At the end of the half-hour, it was reported from the gate that Charkerand the two were falling back on us, pursued by about a dozen.

“Sally!  Gate-party, under Gill Davis,” says theSergeant, “and bring ’em in!  Like men, now!”

We were not long about it, and we brought them in.  “Don’ttake me,” says Charker, holding me round the neck, and stumblingdown at my feet when the gate was fast, “don’t take me nearthe ladies or the children, Gill.  They had better not see Death,till it can’t be helped.  They’ll see it soon enough.”

“Harry!” I answered, holding up his head.  “Comrade!”

He was cut to pieces.  The signal had been secured by the firstpirate party that landed; his hair was all singed off, and his facewas blackened with the running pitch from a torch.

He made no complaint of pain, or of anything.  “Good-bye,old chap,” was all he said, with a smile.  “I’vegot my death.  And Death ain’t life.  Is it, Gill?”

Having helped to lay his poor body on one side, I went back to mypost.  Sergeant Drooce looked at me, with his eyebrows a littlelifted.  I nodded.  “Close up here men, and gentlemenall!” said the Sergeant.  “A place too many, in theline.”

The Pirates were so close upon us at this time, that the foremostof them were already before the gate.  More and more came up witha great noise, and shouting loudly.  When we believed from thesound that they were all there, we gave three English cheers. The poor little children joined, and were so fully convinced of ourbeing at play, that they enjoyed the noise, and were heard clappingtheir hands in the silence that followed.

Our disposition was this, beginning with the rear.  Mrs. Venning,holding her daughter’s child in her arms, sat on the steps ofthe little square trench surrounding the silver-house, encouraging anddirecting those women and children as she might have done in the happiestand easiest time of her life.  Then, there was an armed line, underMr. Macey, across the width of the enclosure, facing that way and havingtheir backs towards the gate, in order that they might watch the wallsand prevent our being taken by surprise.  Then there was a spaceof eight or ten feet deep, in which the spare arms were, and in whichMiss Maryon and Mrs. Fisher, their hands and dresses blackened withthe spoilt gunpowder, worked on their knees, tying such things as knives,old bayonets, and spear-heads, to the muzzles of the useless muskets. Then, there was a second armed line, under Sergeant Drooce, also acrossthe width of the enclosure, but facing to the gate.  Then camethe breastwork we had made, with a zigzag way through it for me andmy little party to hold good in retreating, as long as we could, whenwe were driven from the gate.  We all knew that it was impossibleto hold the place long, and that our only hope was in the timely discoveryof the plot by the boats, and in their coming back.

I and my men were now thrown forward to the gate.  From a spy-hole,I could see the whole crowd of Pirates.  There were Malays amongthem, Dutch, Maltese, Greeks, Sambos, Negroes, and Convict Englishmenfrom the West India Islands; among the last, him with the one eye andthe patch across the nose.  There were some Portuguese, too, anda few Spaniards.  The captain was a Portuguese; a little man withvery large ear-rings under a very broad hat, and a great bright shawltwisted about his shoulders.  They were all strongly armed, butlike a boarding party, with pikes, swords, cutlasses, and axes. I noticed a good many pistols, but not a gun of any kind among them. This gave me to understand that they had considered that a continuedroll of musketry might perhaps have been heard on the mainland; also,that for the reason that fire would be seen from the mainland they wouldnot set the Fort in flames and roast us alive; which was one of theirfavourite ways of carrying on.  I looked about for Christian GeorgeKing, and if I had seen him I am much mistaken if he would not havereceived my one round of ball-cartridge in his head.  But, no ChristianGeorge King was visible.

A sort of a wild Portuguese demon, who seemed either fierce-mad orfierce-drunk—but, they all seemed one or the other—cameforward with the black flag, and gave it a wave or two.  Afterthat, the Portuguese captain called out in shrill English, “Isay you!  English fools!  Open the gate!  Surrender!”

As we kept close and quiet, he said something to his men which Ididn’t understand, and when he had said it, the one-eyed Englishrascal with the patch (who had stepped out when he began), said it againin English.  It was only this.  “Boys of the black flag,this is to be quickly done.  Take all the prisoners you can. If they don’t yield, kill the children to make them.  Forward!” Then, they all came on at the gate, and in another half-minute weresmashing and splitting it in.

We struck at them through the gaps and shivers, and we dropped manyof them, too; but, their very weight would have carried such a gate,if they had been unarmed.  I soon found Sergeant Drooce at my side,forming us six remaining marines in line—Tom Packer next to me—andordering us to fall back three paces, and, as they broke in, to givethem our one little volley at short distance.  “Then,”says he, “receive them behind your breastwork on the bayonet,and at least let every man of you pin one of the cursed cockchafersthrough the body.”

We checked them by our fire, slight as it was, and we checked themat the breastwork.  However, they broke over it like swarms ofdevils—they were, really and truly, more devils than men—andthen it was hand to hand, indeed.

We clubbed our muskets and laid about us; even then, those two ladies—alwaysbehind me—were steady and ready with the arms.  I had a lotof Maltese and Malays upon me, and, but for a broadsword that Miss Maryon’sown hand put in mine, should have got my end from them.  But, wasthat all?  No.  I saw a heap of banded dark hair and a whitedress come thrice between me and them, under my own raised right arm,which each time might have destroyed the wearer of the white dress;and each time one of the lot went down, struck dead.

Drooce was armed with a broadsword, too, and did such things withit, that there was a cry, in half-a-dozen languages, of “Killthat sergeant!” as I knew, by the cry being raised in English,and taken up in other tongues.  I had received a severe cut acrossthe left arm a few moments before, and should have known nothing ofit, except supposing that somebody had struck me a smart blow, if Ihad not felt weak, and seen myself covered with spouting blood, and,at the same instant of time, seen Miss Maryon tearing her dress andbinding it with Mrs. Fisher’s help round the wound.  Theycalled to Tom Packer, who was scouring by, to stop and guard me forone minute, while I was bound, or I should bleed to death in tryingto defend myself.  Tom stopped directly, with a good sabre in hishand.

In that same moment—all things seem to happen in that samemoment, at such a time—half-a-dozen had rushed howling at SergeantDrooce.  The Sergeant, stepping back against the wall, stoppedone howl for ever with such a terrible blow, and waited for the restto come on, with such a wonderfully unmoved face, that they stoppedand looked at him.

“See him now!” cried Tom Packer.  “Now, whenI could cut him out!  Gill!  Did I tell you to mark my words?”

I implored Tom Packer in the Lord’s name, as well as I couldin my faintness, to go to the Sergeant’s aid.

“I hate and detest him,” says Tom, moodily wavering. “Still, he is a brave man.”  Then he calls out, “SergeantDrooce, Sergeant Drooce!  Tell me you have driven me too hard,and are sorry for it.”

The Sergeant, without turning his eyes from his assailants, whichwould have been instant death to him, answers.

“No.  I won’t.”

“Sergeant Drooce!” cries Tom, in a kind of an agony. “I have passed my word that I would never save you from Death,if I could, but would leave you to die.  Tell me you have drivenme too hard and are sorry for it, and that shall go for nothing.”

One of the group laid the Sergeant’s bald bare head open. The Sergeant laid him dead.

“I tell you,” says the Sergeant, breathing a little short,and waiting for the next attack, “no.  I won’t. If you are not man enough to strike for a fellow-soldier because hewants help, and because of nothing else, I’ll go into the otherworld and look for a better man.”

Tom swept upon them, and cut him out.  Tom and he fought theirway through another knot of them, and sent them flying, and came overto where I was beginning again to feel, with inexpressible joy, thatI had got a sword in my hand.

They had hardly come to us, when I heard, above all the other noises,a tremendous cry of women’s voices.  I also saw Miss Maryon,with quite a new face, suddenly clap her two hands over Mrs. Fisher’seyes.  I looked towards the silver-house, and saw Mrs. Venning—standingupright on the top of the steps of the trench, with her gray hair andher dark eyes—hide her daughter’s child behind her, amongthe folds of her dress, strike a pirate with her other hand, and fall,shot by his pistol.

The cry arose again, and there was a terrible and confusing rushof the women into the midst of the struggle.  In another moment,something came tumbling down upon me that I thought was the wall. It was a heap of Sambos who had come over the wall; and of four menwho clung to my legs like serpents, one who clung to my right leg wasChristian George King.

“Yup, So-Jeer,” says he, “Christian George Kingsar berry glad So-Jeer a prisoner.  Christian George King beenwaiting for So-Jeer sech long time.  Yup, yup!”

What could I do, with five-and-twenty of them on me, but be tiedhand and foot?  So, I was tied hand and foot.  It was allover now—boats not come back—all lost!  When I wasfast bound and was put up against the wall, the one-eyed English convictcame up with the Portuguese Captain, to have a look at me.

“See!” says he.  “Here’s the determinedman!  If you had slept sounder, last night, you’d have sleptyour soundest last night, my determined man.”

The Portuguese Captain laughed in a cool way, and with the flat ofhis cutlass, hit me crosswise, as if I was the bough of a tree thathe played with: first on the face, and then across the chest and thewounded arm.  I looked him steady in the face without tumblingwhile he looked at me, I am happy to say; but, when they went away,I fell, and lay there.

The sun was up, when I was roused and told to come down to the beachand be embarked.  I was full of aches and pains, and could notat first remember; but, I remembered quite soon enough.  The killedwere lying about all over the place, and the Pirates were burying theirdead, and taking away their wounded on hastily-made litters, to theback of the Island.  As for us prisoners, some of their boats hadcome round to the usual harbour, to carry us off.  We looked awretched few, I thought, when I got down there; still, it was anothersign that we had fought well, and made the enemy suffer.

The Portuguese Captain had all the women already embarked in theboat he himself commanded, which was just putting off when I got down. Miss Maryon sat on one side of him, and gave me a moment’s look,as full of quiet courage, and pity, and confidence, as if it had beenan hour long.  On the other side of him was poor little Mrs. Fisher,weeping for her child and her mother.  I was shoved into the sameboat with Drooce and Packer, and the remainder of our party of marines:of whom we had lost two privates, besides Charker, my poor, brave comrade. We all made a melancholy passage, under the hot sun over to the mainland. There, we landed in a solitary place, and were mustered on the sea sand. Mr. and Mrs. Macey and their children were amongst us, Mr. and Mrs.Pordage, Mr. Kitten, Mr. Fisher, and Mrs. Belltott.  We musteredonly fourteen men, fifteen women, and seven children.  Those wereall that remained of the English who had lain down to sleep last night,unsuspecting and happy, on the Island of Silver-Store.

CHAPTER III { 1}—THERAFTS ON THE RIVER

We contrived to keep afloat all that night, and, the stream runningstrong with us, to glide a long way down the river.  But, we foundthe night to be a dangerous time for such navigation, on account ofthe eddies and rapids, and it was therefore settled next day that infuture we would bring-to at sunset, and encamp on the shore.  Aswe knew of no boats that the Pirates possessed, up at the Prison inthe Woods, we settled always to encamp on the opposite side of the stream,so as to have the breadth of the river between our sleep and them. Our opinion was, that if they were acquainted with any near way by landto the mouth of this river, they would come up it in force, and retakeus or kill us, according as they could; but that if that was not thecase, and if the river ran by none of their secret stations, we mightescape.

When I say we settled this or that, I do not mean that we plannedanything with any confidence as to what might happen an hour hence. So much had happened in one night, and such great changes had been violentlyand suddenly made in the fortunes of many among us, that we had gotbetter used to uncertainty, in a little while, than I dare say mostpeople do in the course of their lives.

The difficulties we soon got into, through the off-settings and point-currentsof the stream, made the likelihood of our being drowned, alone,—tosay nothing of our being retaken—as broad and plain as the sunat noonday to all of us.  But, we all worked hard at managing therafts, under the direction of the seamen (of our own skill, I thinkwe never could have prevented them from oversetting), and we also workedhard at making good the defects in their first hasty construction—whichthe water soon found out.  While we humbly resigned ourselves togoing down, if it was the will of Our Father that was in Heaven, wehumbly made up our minds, that we would all do the best that was inus.

And so we held on, gliding with the stream.  It drove us tothis bank, and it drove us to that bank, and it turned us, and whirledus; but yet it carried us on.  Sometimes much too slowly; sometimesmuch too fast, but yet it carried us on.

My little deaf and dumb boy slumbered a good deal now, and that wasthe case with all the children.  They caused very little troubleto any one.  They seemed, in my eyes, to get more like one another,not only in quiet manner, but in the face, too.  The motion ofthe raft was usually so much the same, the scene was usually so muchthe same, the sound of the soft wash and ripple of the water was usuallyso much the same, that they were made drowsy, as they might have beenby the constant playing of one tune.  Even on the grown people,who worked hard and felt anxiety, the same things produced somethingof the same effect.  Every day was so like the other, that I soonlost count of the days, myself, and had to ask Miss Maryon, for instance,whether this was the third or fourth?  Miss Maryon had a pocket-bookand pencil, and she kept the log; that is to say, she entered up a clearlittle journal of the time, and of the distances our seamen thoughtwe had made, each night.

So, as I say, we kept afloat and glided on.  All day long, andevery day, the water, and the woods, and sky; all day long, and everyday, the constant watching of both sides of the river, and far aheadat every bold turn and sweep it made, for any signs of Pirate-boats,or Pirate-dwellings.  So, as I say, we kept afloat and glided on. The days melting themselves together to that degree, that I could hardlybelieve my ears when I asked “How many now, Miss?” and sheanswered “Seven.”

To be sure, poor Mr. Pordage had, by about now, got his Diplomaticcoat into such a state as never was seen.  What with the mud ofthe river, what with the water of the river, what with the sun, andthe dews, and the tearing boughs, and the thickets, it hung about himin discoloured shreds like a mop.  The sun had touched him a bit. He had taken to always polishing one particular button, which just heldon to his left wrist, and to always calling for stationery.  Isuppose that man called for pens, ink, and paper, tape, and scaling-wax,upwards of one thousand times in four-and-twenty hours.  He hadan idea that we should never get out of that river unless we were writtenout of it in a formal Memorandum; and the more we laboured at navigatingthe rafts, the more he ordered us not to touch them at our peril, andthe more he sat and roared for stationery.

Mrs. Pordage, similarly, persisted in wearing her nightcap. I doubt if any one but ourselves who had seen the progress of that articleof dress, could by this time have told what it was meant for. It had got so limp and ragged that she couldn’t see out of hereyes for it.  It was so dirty, that whether it was vegetable matterout of a swamp, or weeds out of the river, or an old porter’s-knotfrom England, I don’t think any new spectator could have said. Yet, this unfortunate old woman had a notion that it was not only vastlygenteel, but that it was the correct thing as to propriety.  Andshe really did carry herself over the other ladies who had no nightcaps,and who were forced to tie up their hair how they could, in a superiormanner that was perfectly amazing.

I don’t know what she looked like, sitting in that blessednightcap, on a log of wood, outside the hut or cabin upon our raft. She would have rather resembled a fortune-teller in one of the picture-booksthat used to be in the shop windows in my boyhood, except for her stateliness. But, Lord bless my heart, the dignity with which she sat and moped,with her head in that bundle of tatters, was like nothing else in theworld!  She was not on speaking terms with more than three of theladies.  Some of them had, what she called, “taken precedence”of her—in getting into, or out of, that miserable little shelter!—andothers had not called to pay their respects, or something of that kind. So, there she sat, in her own state and ceremony, while her husbandsat on the same log of wood, ordering us one and all to let the raftgo to the bottom, and to bring him stationery.

What with this noise on the part of Mr. Commissioner Pordage, andwhat with the cries of Sergeant Drooce on the raft astern (which weresometimes more than Tom Packer could silence), we often made our slowway down the river, anything but quietly.  Yet, that it was ofgreat importance that no ears should be able to hear us from the woodson the banks, could not be doubted.  We were looked for, to a certainty,and we might be retaken at any moment.  It was an anxious time;it was, indeed, indeed, an anxious time.

On the seventh night of our voyage on the rafts, we made fast, asusual, on the opposite side of the river to that from which we had started,in as dark a place as we could pick out.  Our little encampmentwas soon made, and supper was eaten, and the children fell asleep. The watch was set, and everything made orderly for the night. Such a starlight night, with such blue in the sky, and such black inthe places of heavy shade on the banks of the great stream!

Those two ladies, Miss Maryon and Mrs. Fisher, had always kept nearme since the night of the attack.  Mr. Fisher, who was untiringin the work of our raft, had said to me:

“My dear little childless wife has grown so attached to you,Davis, and you are such a gentle fellow, as well as such a determinedone;” our party had adopted that last expression from the one-eyedEnglish pirate, and I repeat what Mr. Fisher said, only because he saidit; “that it takes a load off my mind to leave her in your charge.”

I said to him: “Your lady is in far better charge than mine,Sir, having Miss Maryon to take care of her; but, you may rely uponit, that I will guard them both—faithful and true.”

Says he: “I do rely upon it, Davis, and I heartily wish allthe silver on our old Island was yours.”

That seventh starlight night, as I have said, we made our camp, andgot our supper, and set our watch, and the children fell asleep. It was solemn and beautiful in those wild and solitary parts, to seethem, every night before they lay down, kneeling under the bright sky,saying their little prayers at women’s laps.  At that timewe men all uncovered, and mostly kept at a distance.  When theinnocent creatures rose up, we murmured “Amen!” all together. For, though we had not heard what they said, we know it must be goodfor us.

At that time, too, as was only natural, those poor mothers in ourcompany, whose children had been killed, shed many tears.  I thoughtthe sight seemed to console them while it made them cry; but, whetherI was right or wrong in that, they wept very much.  On this seventhnight, Mrs. Fisher had cried for her lost darling until she cried herselfasleep.  She was lying on a little couch of leaves and such-like(I made the best little couch I could for them every night), and MissMaryon had covered her, and sat by her, holding her hand.  Thestars looked down upon them.  As for me, I guarded them.

“Davis!” says Miss Maryon.  (I am not going to saywhat a voice she had.  I couldn’t if I tried.)

“I am here, Miss.”

“The river sounds as if it were swollen to-night.”

“We all think, Miss, that we are coming near the sea.”

“Do you believe now, we shall escape?”

“I do now, Miss, really believe it.”  I had alwayssaid I did; but, I had in my own mind been doubtful.

“How glad you will be, my good Davis, to see England again!”

I have another confession to make that will appear singular. When she said these words, something rose in my throat; and the starsI looked away at, seemed to break into sparkles that fell down my faceand burnt it.

“England is not much to me, Miss, except as a name.”

“O, so true an Englishman should not say that!—Are younot well to-night, Davis?”  Very kindly, and with a quickchange.

“Quite well, Miss.”

“Are you sure?  Your voice sounds altered in my hearing.”

“No, Miss, I am a stronger man than ever.  But, Englandis nothing to me.”

Miss Maryon sat silent for so long a while, that I believed she haddone speaking to me for one time.  However, she had not; for by-and-byshe said in a distinct clear tone:

“No, good friend; you must not say that England is nothingto you.  It is to be much to you, yet—everything to you. You have to take back to England the good name you have earned here,and the gratitude and attachment and respect you have won here: andyou have to make some good English girl very happy and proud, by marryingher; and I shall one day see her, I hope, and make her happier and prouderstill, by telling her what noble services her husband’s were inSouth America, and what a noble friend he was to me there.”

Though she spoke these kind words in a cheering manner, she spokethem compassionately.  I said nothing.  It will appear tobe another strange confession, that I paced to and fro, within call,all that night, a most unhappy man, reproaching myself all the nightlong.  “You are as ignorant as any man alive; you are asobscure as any man alive; you are as poor as any man alive; you areno better than the mud under your foot.”  That was the wayin which I went on against myself until the morning.

With the day, came the day’s labour.  What I should havedone—without the labour, I don’t know.  We were afloatagain at the usual hour, and were again making our way down the river. It was broader, and clearer of obstructions than it had been, and itseemed to flow faster.  This was one of Drooce’s quiet days;Mr. Pordage, besides being sulky, had almost lost his voice; and wemade good way, and with little noise.

There was always a seaman forward on the raft, keeping a bright look-out. Suddenly, in the full heat of the day, when the children were slumbering,and the very trees and reeds appeared to be slumbering, this man—itwas Short—holds up his hand, and cries with great caution: “Avast! Voices ahead!”

We held on against the stream as soon as we could bring her up, andthe other raft followed suit.  At first, Mr. Macey, Mr. Fisher,and myself, could hear nothing; though both the seamen aboard of usagreed that they could hear voices and oars.  After a little pause,however, we united in thinking that we couldhear the sound ofvoices, and the dip of oars.  But, you can hear a long way in thosecountries, and there was a bend of the river before us, and nothingwas to be seen except such waters and such banks as we were now in theeighth day (and might, for the matter of our feelings, have been inthe eightieth), of having seen with anxious eyes.

It was soon decided to put a man ashore, who should creep throughthe wood, see what was coming, and warn the rafts.  The rafts inthe meantime to keep the middle of the stream.  The man to be putashore, and not to swim ashore, as the first thing could be more quicklydone than the second.  The raft conveying him, to get back intomid-stream, and to hold on along with the other, as well is it could,until signalled by the man.  In case of danger, the man to shiftfor himself until it should be safe to take him on board again. I volunteered to be the man.

We knew that the voices and oars must come up slowly against thestream; and our seamen knew, by the set of the stream, under which bankthey would come.  I was put ashore accordingly.  The raftgot off well, and I broke into the wood.

Steaming hot it was, and a tearing place to get through.  Somuch the better for me, since it was something to contend against anddo.  I cut off the bend of the river, at a great saving of space,came to the water’s edge again, and hid myself, and waited. I could now hear the dip of the oars very distinctly; the voices hadceased.

The sound came on in a regular tune, and as I lay hidden, I fanciedthe tune so played to be, “Chris’en—George—King! Chris’en—George—King!  Chris’en—George—King!”over and over again, always the same, with the pauses always at thesame places.  I had likewise time to make up my mind that if thesewere the Pirates, I could and would (barring my being shot) swim offto my raft, in spite of my wound, the moment I had given the alarm,and hold my old post by Miss Maryon.

“Chris’en—George—King!  Chris’en—George—King! Chris’en—George—King!” coming up, now, verynear.

I took a look at the branches about me, to see where a shower ofbullets would be most likely to do me least hurt; and I took a lookback at the track I had made in forcing my way in; and now I was whollyprepared and fully ready for them.

“Chris’en—George—King!  Chris’en—George—King! Chris’en—George—King!”  Here they are!

Who were they?  The barbarous Pirates, scum of all nations,headed by such men as the hideous little Portuguese monkey, and theone-eyed English convict with the gash across his face, that ought tohave gashed his wicked head off?  The worst men in the world pickedout from the worst, to do the cruellest and most atrocious deeds thatever stained it?  The howling, murdering, black-flag waving, mad,and drunken crowd of devils that had overcome us by numbers and by treachery? No.  These were English men in English boats—good blue-jacketsand red-coats—marines that I knew myself, and sailors that knewour seamen!  At the helm of the first boat, Captain Carton, eagerand steady.  At the helm of the second boat, Captain Maryon, braveand bold.  At the helm of the third boat, an old seaman, with determinationcarved into his watchful face, like the figure-head of a ship. Every man doubly and trebly armed from head to foot.  Every manlying-to at his work, with a will that had all his heart and soul init.  Every man looking out for any trace of friend or enemy, andburning to be the first to do good or avenge evil.  Every man withhis face on fire when he saw me, his countryman who had been taken prisoner,and hailed me with a cheer, as Captain Carton’s boat ran in andtook me on board.

I reported, “All escaped, sir!  All well, all safe, allhere!”

God bless me—and God bless them—what a cheer!  Itturned me weak, as I was passed on from hand to hand to the stern ofthe boat: every hand patting me or grasping me in some way or other,in the moment of my going by.

“Hold up, my brave fellow,” says Captain Carton, clappingme on the shoulder like a friend, and giving me a flask.  “Putyour lips to that, and they’ll be red again.  Now, boys,give way!”

The banks flew by us as if the mightiest stream that ever ran waswith us; and so it was, I am sure, meaning the stream to those men’sardour and spirit.  The banks flew by us, and we came in sightof the rafts—the banks flew by us, and we came alongside of therafts—the banks stopped; and there was a tumult of laughing andcrying, and kissing and shaking of hands, and catching up of childrenand setting of them down again, and a wild hurry of thankfulness andjoy that melted every one and softened all hearts.

I had taken notice, in Captain Carton’s boat, that there wasa curious and quite new sort of fitting on board.  It was a kindof a little bower made of flowers, and it was set up behind the captain,and betwixt him and the rudder.  Not only was this arbour, so tocall it, neatly made of flowers, but it was ornamented in a singularway.  Some of the men had taken the ribbons and buckles off theirhats, and hung them among the flowers; others had made festoons andstreamers of their handkerchiefs, and hung them there; others had intermixedsuch trifles as bits of glass and shining fragments of lockets and tobacco-boxeswith the flowers; so that altogether it was a very bright and livelyobject in the sunshine.  But why there, or what for, I did notunderstand.

Now, as soon as the first bewilderment was over, Captain Carton gavethe order to land for the present.  But this boat of his, withtwo hands left in her, immediately put off again when the men were outof her, and kept off, some yards from the shore.  As she floatedthere, with the two hands gently backing water to keep her from goingdown the stream, this pretty little arbour attracted many eyes. None of the boat’s crew, however, had anything to say about it,except that it was the captain’s fancy.

The captain—with the women and children clustering round him,and the men of all ranks grouped outside them, and all listening—stoodtelling how the Expedition, deceived by its bad intelligence, had chasedthe light Pirate boats all that fatal night, and had still followedin their wake next day, and had never suspected until many hours toolate that the great Pirate body had drawn off in the darkness when thechase began, and shot over to the Island.  He stood telling howthe Expedition, supposing the whole array of armed boats to be aheadof it, got tempted into shallows and went aground; but not without havingits revenge upon the two decoy-boats, both of which it had come up with,overhand, and sent to the bottom with all on board.  He stood tellinghow the Expedition, fearing then that the case stood as it did, gotafloat again, by great exertion, after the loss of four more tides,and returned to the Island, where they found the sloop scuttled andthe treasure gone.  He stood telling how my officer, LieutenantLinderwood, was left upon the Island, with as strong a force as couldbe got together hurriedly from the mainland, and how the three boatswe saw before us were manned and armed and had come away, exploringthe coast and inlets, in search of any tidings of us.  He stoodtelling all this, with his face to the river; and, as he stood tellingit, the little arbour of flowers floated in the sunshine before allthe faces there.

Leaning on Captain Carton’s shoulder, between him and MissMaryon, was Mrs. Fisher, her head drooping on her arm.  She askedhim, without raising it, when he had told so much, whether he had foundher mother?

“Be comforted!  She lies,” said the Captain gently,“under the cocoa-nut trees on the beach.”

“And my child, Captain Carton, did you find my child, too? Does my darling rest with my mother?”

“No.  Your pretty child sleeps,” said the Captain,“under a shade of flowers.”

His voice shook; but there was something in it that struck all thehearers.  At that moment there sprung from the arbour in his boata little creature, clapping her hands and stretching out her arms, andcrying, “Dear papa!  Dear mamma!  I am not killed. I am saved.  I am coming to kiss you.  Take me to them, takeme to them, good, kind sailors!”

Nobody who saw that scene has ever forgotten it, I am sure, or everwill forget it.  The child had kept quite still, where her bravegrandmamma had put her (first whispering in her ear, “Whateverhappens to me, do not stir, my dear!”), and had remained quietuntil the fort was deserted; she had then crept out of the trench, andgone into her mother’s house; and there, alone on the solitaryIsland, in her mother’s room, and asleep on her mother’sbed, the Captain had found her.  Nothing could induce her to beparted from him after he took her up in his arms, and he had broughther away with him, and the men had made the bower for her.  Tosee those men now, was a sight.  The joy of the women was beautiful;the joy of those women who had lost their own children, was quite sacredand divine; but, the ecstasies of Captain Carton’s boat’screw, when their pet was restored to her parents, were wonderful forthe tenderness they showed in the midst of roughness.  As the Captainstood with the child in his arms, and the child’s own little armsnow clinging round his neck, now round her father’s, now roundher mother’s, now round some one who pressed up to kiss her, theboat’s crew shook hands with one another, waved their hats overtheir heads, laughed, sang, cried, danced—and all among themselves,without wanting to interfere with anybody—in a manner never tobe represented.  At last, I saw the coxswain and another, two veryhard-faced men, with grizzled heads, who had been the heartiest of thehearty all along, close with one another, get each of them the other’shead under his arm, and pommel away at it with his fist as hard as hecould, in his excess of joy.

When we had well rested and refreshed ourselves—and very gladwe were to have some of the heartening things to eat and drink thathad come up in the boats—we recommenced our voyage down the river:rafts, and boats, and all.  I said to myself, it was a verydifferent kind of voyage now, from what it had been; and I fell intomy proper place and station among my fellow-soldiers.

But, when we halted for the night, I found that Miss Maryon had spokento Captain Carton concerning me.  For, the Captain came straightup to me, and says he, “My brave fellow, you have been Miss Maryon’sbody-guard all along, and you shall remain so.  Nobody shall supersedeyou in the distinction and pleasure of protecting that young lady.” I thanked his honour in the fittest words I could find, and that nightI was placed on my old post of watching the place where she slept. More than once in the night, I saw Captain Carton come out into theair, and stroll about there, to see that all was well.  I havenow this other singular confession to make, that I saw him with a heavyheart.  Yes; I saw him with a heavy, heavy heart.

In the day-time, I had the like post in Captain Carton’s boat. I had a special station of my own, behind Miss Maryon, and no handsbut hers ever touched my wound.  (It has been healed these manylong years; but, no other hands have ever touched it.)  Mr. Pordagewas kept tolerably quiet now, with pen and ink, and began to pick uphis senses a little.  Seated in the second boat, he made documentswith Mr. Kitten, pretty well all day; and he generally handed in a Protestabout something whenever we stopped.  The Captain, however, madeso very light of these papers, that it grew into a saying among themen, when one of them wanted a match for his pipe, “Hand us overa Protest, Jack!”  As to Mrs. Pordage, she still wore thenightcap, and she now had cut all the ladies on account of her not havingbeen formally and separately rescued by Captain Carton before anybodyelse.  The end of Mr. Pordage, to bring to an end all I know abouthim, was, that he got great compliments at home for his conduct on thesetrying occasions, and that he died of yellow jaundice, a Governor anda K.C.B.

Sergeant Drooce had fallen from a high fever into a low one. Tom Packer—the only man who could have pulled the Sergeant throughit—kept hospital aboard the old raft, and Mrs. Belltott, as briskas ever again (but the spirit of that little woman, when things triedit, was not equal to appearances), was head-nurse under his directions. Before we got down to the Mosquito coast, the joke had been made byone of our men, that we should see her gazetted Mrs. Tom Packer, viceBelltott exchanged.

When we reached the coast, we got native boats as substitutes forthe rafts; and we rowed along under the land; and in that beautifulclimate, and upon that beautiful water, the blooming days were likeenchantment.  Ah!  They were running away, faster than anysea or river, and there was no tide to bring them back.  We werecoming very near the settlement where the people of Silver-Store wereto be left, and from which we Marines were under orders to return toBelize.

Captain Carton had, in the boat by him, a curious long-barrelledSpanish gun, and he had said to Miss Maryon one day that it was thebest of guns, and had turned his head to me, and said:

“Gill Davis, load her fresh with a couple of slugs, againsta chance of showing how good she is.”

So, I had discharged the gun over the sea, and had loaded her, accordingto orders, and there it had lain at the Captain’s feet, convenientto the Captain’s hand.

The last day but one of our journey was an uncommonly hot day. We started very early; but, there was no cool air on the sea as theday got on, and by noon the heat was really hard to bear, consideringthat there were women and children to bear it.  Now, we happenedto open, just at that time, a very pleasant little cove or bay, wherethere was a deep shade from a great growth of trees.  Now, theCaptain, therefore, made the signal to the other boats to follow himin and lie by a while.

The men who were off duty went ashore, and lay down, but were ordered,for caution’s sake, not to stray, and to keep within view. The others rested on their oars, and dozed.  Awnings had been madeof one thing and another, in all the boats, and the passengers foundit cooler to be under them in the shade, when there was room enough,than to be in the thick woods.  So, the passengers were all afloat,and mostly sleeping.  I kept my post behind Miss Maryon, and shewas on Captain Carton’s right in the boat, and Mrs. Fisher saton her right again.  The Captain had Mrs. Fisher’s daughteron his knee.  He and the two ladies were talking about the Pirates,and were talking softly; partly, because people do talk softly undersuch indolent circumstances, and partly because the little girl hadgone off asleep.

I think I have before given it out for my Lady to write down, thatCaptain Carton had a fine bright eye of his own.  All at once,he darted me a side look, as much as to say, “Steady—don’ttake on—I see something!”—and gave the child intoher mother’s arms.  That eye of his was so easy to understand,that I obeyed it by not so much as looking either to the right or tothe left out of a corner of my own, or changing my attitude the leasttrifle.  The Captain went on talking in the same mild and easyway; but began—with his arms resting across his knees, and hishead a little hanging forward, as if the heat were rather too much forhim—began to play with the Spanish gun.

“They had laid their plans, you see,” says the Captain,taking up the Spanish gun across his knees, and looking, lazily, atthe inlaying on the stock, “with a great deal of art; and thecorrupt or blundering local authorities were so easily deceived;”he ran his left hand idly along the barrel, but I saw, with my breathheld, that he covered the action of cocking the gun with his right—“soeasily deceived, that they summoned us out to come into the trap. But my intention as to future operations—”  In a flashthe Spanish gun was at his bright eye, and he fired.

All started up; innumerable echoes repeated the sound of the discharge;a cloud of bright-coloured birds flew out of the woods screaming; ahandful of leaves were scattered in the place where the shot had struck;a crackling of branches was heard; and some lithe but heavy creaturesprang into the air, and fell forward, head down, over the muddy bank.

“What is it?” cries Captain Maryon from his boat. All silent then, but the echoes rolling away.

“It is a Traitor and a Spy,” said Captain Carton, handingme the gun to load again.  “And I think the other name ofthe animal is Christian George King!”

Shot through the heart.  Some of the people ran round to thespot, and drew him out, with the slime and wet trickling down his face;but his face itself would never stir any more to the end of time.

“Leave him hanging to that tree,” cried Captain Carton;his boat’s crew giving way, and he leaping ashore.  “Butfirst into this wood, every man in his place.  And boats! Out of gunshot!”

It was a quick change, well meant and well made, though it endedin disappointment.  No Pirates were there; no one but the Spy wasfound.  It was supposed that the Pirates, unable to retake us,and expecting a great attack upon them to be the consequence of ourescape, had made from the ruins in the Forest, taken to their ship alongwith the Treasure, and left the Spy to pick up what intelligence hecould.  In the evening we went away, and he was left hanging tothe tree, all alone, with the red sun making a kind of a dead sunseton his black face.

Next day, we gained the settlement on the Mosquito coast for whichwe were bound.  Having stayed there to refresh seven days, andhaving been much commended, and highly spoken of, and finely entertained,we Marines stood under orders to march from the Town-Gate (it was neithermuch of a town nor much of a gate), at five in the morning.

My officer had joined us before then.  When we turned out atthe gate, all the people were there; in the front of them all thosewho had been our fellow-prisoners, and all the seamen.

“Davis,” says Lieutenant Linderwood.  “Standout, my friend!”

I stood out from the ranks, and Miss Maryon and Captain Carton cameup to me.

“Dear Davis,” says Miss Maryon, while the tears fellfast down her face, “your grateful friends, in most unwillinglytaking leave of you, ask the favour that, while you bear away with youtheir affectionate remembrance, which nothing can ever impair, you willalso take this purse of money—far more valuable to you, we allknow, for the deep attachment and thankfulness with which it is offered,than for its own contents, though we hope those may prove useful toyou, too, in after life.”

I got out, in answer, that I thankfully accepted the attachment andaffection, but not the money.  Captain Carton looked at me veryattentively, and stepped back, and moved away.  I made him my bowas he stepped back, to thank him for being so delicate.

“No, miss,” said I, “I think it would break myheart to accept of money.  But, if you could condescend to giveto a man so ignorant and common as myself, any little thing you haveworn—such as a bit of ribbon—”

She took a ring from her finger, and put it in my hand.  Andshe rested her hand in mine, while she said these words:

“The brave gentlemen of old—but not one of them was braver,or had a nobler nature than you—took such gifts from ladies, anddid all their good actions for the givers’ sakes.  If youwill do yours for mine, I shall think with pride that I continue tohave some share in the life of a gallant and generous man.”

For the second time in my life she kissed my hand.  I made sobold, for the first time, as to kiss hers; and I tied the ring at mybreast, and I fell back to my place.

Then, the horse-litter went out at the gate with Sergeant Droocein it; and the horse-litter went out at the gate with Mrs. Belltottin it; and Lieutenant Linderwood gave the word of command, “Quickmarch!” and, cheered and cried for, we went out of the gate too,marching along the level plain towards the serene blue sky, as if wewere marching straight to Heaven.

When I have added here that the Pirate scheme was blown to shivers,by the Pirate-ship which had the Treasure on board being so vigorouslyattacked by one of His Majesty’s cruisers, among the West IndiaKeys, and being so swiftly boarded and carried, that nobody suspectedanything about the scheme until three-fourths of the Pirates were killed,and the other fourth were in irons, and the Treasure was recovered;I come to the last singular confession I have got to make.

It is this.  I well knew what an immense and hopeless distancethere was between me and Miss Maryon; I well knew that I was no fittercompany for her than I was for the angels; I well knew, that she wasas high above my reach as the sky over my head; and yet I loved her. What put it in my low heart to be so daring, or whether such a thingever happened before or since, as that a man so uninstructed and obscureas myself got his unhappy thoughts lifted up to such a height, whileknowing very well how presumptuous and impossible to be realised theywere, I am unable to say; still, the suffering to me was just as greatas if I had been a gentleman.  I suffered agony—agony. I suffered hard, and I suffered long.  I thought of her last wordsto me, however, and I never disgraced them.  If it had not beenfor those dear words, I think I should have lost myself in despair andrecklessness.

The ring will be found lying on my heart, of course, and will belaid with me wherever I am laid.  I am getting on in years now,though I am able and hearty.  I was recommended for promotion,and everything was done to reward me that could be done; but my totalwant of all learning stood in my way, and I found myself so completelyout of the road to it that I could not conquer any learning, thoughI tried.  I was long in the service, and I respected it, and wasrespected in it, and the service is dear to me at this present hour.

At this present hour, when I give this out to my Lady to be writtendown, all my old pain has softened away, and I am as happy as a mancan be, at this present fine old country-house of Admiral Sir GeorgeCarton, Baronet.  It was my Lady Carton who herself sought me out,over a great many miles of the wide world, and found me in Hospitalwounded, and brought me here.  It is my Lady Carton who writesdown my words.  My Lady was Miss Maryon.  And now, that Iconclude what I had to tell, I see my Lady’s honoured gray hairdroop over her face, as she leans a little lower at her desk; and Ifervently thank her for being so tender as I see she is, towards thepast pain and trouble of her poor, old, faithful, humble soldier.

FOOTNOTES

{ 1}  Dicken’s didn’t write the second chapter and it is omittedin this edition.  In it the prisoners are firstly made a ransomof for the treasure left on the Island and then manage to escape fromthe Pirates.

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