Ran Away to Sea Part 4

"Ben!" I said, in the familiar style in which all sailors address each other. "Ben!"

"Well, my lad; what be it?"

He saw I had something to communicate, and remained attentively listening.

"What is this ship?" I asked after a pause.

"She a'n't a ship at all, my boy--she be a barque."

"But what is she?"

"Why, a'n't I told you she be a barque."

"But what sort, I want to know?"

"Why, in course, a regular rigged barque--ye see if she were a ship the mizen-mast yonder 'ud be carryin' squares'ls aloft, which she don't do as ye see--therefore she's a barque and not a ship."

"But, Ben, I know all that, for you have already explained to me the difference between a ship and a barque. What I wish to ascertain is what kind of a vessel she is?"

"Oh! what kind; that's what you're after. Well, then, I should say a faster sailer never set figure-head to the sea; she's got just one fault, she be a little too crank for my liking, and pitches too much in a swell. If she's not kept in plenty o' ballast, I won't wonder to see them masts walk overboard one of these days."

"You won't be offended at me, Ben; all this you've told me before--it is not what I wish to know."

"An what the old scratch do you want to know? Be hanged, my lad, if you don't puzzle me."

"Answer me, Ben; tell me the truth. Is she a merchant vessel."

"Oho! that's what you're driving at! Well, that depends upon what you may call a merchant vessel. There be many sorts o' goods that comes under the name o' merchandise. Some ships carry one sort, and some another."

"What sort does the _Pandora_ carry?" asked I, interrupting him.

As I put the question, I laid my hand gently upon the arm of the sailor, and looked earnestly in his face as I awaited his reply.

He hesitated for a moment, until he saw that he could not well evade giving me an answer, and then answered with the simple word--"n.i.g.g.e.rs."

"It 'ud be no use playin' hide and seek about it, lad. You must 'a found it out in time--the _Pandora's_ no merchantman--she be a trader--a regular slaver."

"Oh, Ben," I said, appealingly, "is it not a terrible life to lead?"

"Well, it's not the life for you, my boy, and I'm sorry you've got into such hands. I saw you when you first comed aboard, and would have put a word in your ears, if I had got a chance; but the old shark nailed you afore I could get speaking to you. He wanted a boy and was determined to have you. When you comed the second time, I was below in my bunk, and in course you were brought off with us. No, little Will, it's not the life for you, lad."

"And for you, Ben?"

"Avast there, my youngster! Well, I won't be angry with you, it's but nat'ral you should think so. Maybe I'm not so bad as you think me."

"I don't think you bad, Ben; quite the contrary. It is for that reason I spoke as I did. I think you very different from the others. I--"

"Maybe you're right, boy; maybe not. I warn't always bad. I was once like yourself and didn't care for such as these; but there are tyrants in the world as makes men bad, and they've made me."

Here the sailor paused and uttered a sigh, while an expression of extreme bitterness pa.s.sed over his face; some harsh recollection was stirring within him.

"How, Ben?" I ventured to ask. "I cannot believe it. They may have made you unhappy, but not wicked. I know you are not."

"You are kind, little Will, to say this to me.--You are very kind, my boy; you make me feel as I once did feel, and I'll tell you all.

Listen! and I'll tell you all about it."

There was a tear in the sailor's eye, the first he had shed for many a long year. Upon his weather-bronzed face I observed a mingled expression of tenderness and sadness.

I placed myself to listen attentively.

"It's a short story," he continued, "and won't take many words. I warn't always what I am now. No, I was a man-o'-war's-man for many a year, and, though I say it myself, there warn't many in the service as knew their duty or did it better. But all that went for nothing. It was at Spithead--we were lying there with the fleet, and I chanced to run foul o' the master's-mate o' our ship. It was all about a bit o'

la.s.s that we met ash.o.r.e, who was my sweetheart. He was a-makin' too free with her, and my blood got up. I couldn't help it, and I threatened him--only threatened him. There's what I got for it. Look there, little Will!"

As the sailor finished speaking, he pulled off his jacket, and raised his shirt over his shoulder. I perceived across his back, and up and down, and in every direction, a complete network of long scars--the scars of old weals--which the "cats" had made upon his flesh.

"Now, my lad, you know why I'm driven to a ship like this. In course I desarted the navy, and afterwards tried it in the merchant-sarvice, but go where I would, I carried the Cain-mark along with me, and somehow or other it always came out, and I couldn't stand it. Here I'm not the odd sheep in the flock. Among the fellows below there, there's many a back as well striped as mine."

Ben ceased speaking, and I, impressed with the brief history of his wrongs, remained for some time silent.

After awhile I again ventured to broach the subject that lay nearest my heart.

"But, Ben," said I, "this is a horrid kind of life to lead; surely you do not intend to continue it?"

A shake of the head was all the answer I received.

"I could not endure it," I continued; "I have resolved to make my escape whenever an opportunity offers. Surely you will aid me?"

"Both you and myself, lad."

"Oh! I am so pleased."

"Yes," continued he, "I am tired of it, too. I have been thinking how I can leave it. This I'm determined shall be my last voyage--leastwise, in this trade. I've been thinking, my boy, of giving 'em the slip, and taking you along with me."

"Oh, how glad I shall be--when may we go?"

"There lies the bother, my lad; you see there's no place in all Africa where we could get off, or, if we did, it would only be to wander among these black savages, and likely enough get murdered by them. No; we can't get clear of the _Pandora_ this side the Atlantic. We must stick by her, and make the voyage; and on the far side we'll manage it, I warrant you."

"'Tis a long time to suffer."

"You ain't a-going to suffer--I'll take care o' that; but keep quiet, and don't show that you are not contented enough--not a word to anybody about what's been said this night,--not a word, my lad!"

I promised faithfully to observe the directions given, and, as Brace was now called to his watch upon deck, I went down along with him, feeling lighter at heart than I had done since I first set foot on board the _Pandora_.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

I need not detail the incidents that occurred during the remainder of our run to the African coast. There is not much variety in a journey upon the sea. A shoal of porpoises,--a whale or two,--some flying-fish,--a few species of sea-birds,--sharks and dolphins,--are nearly all the living creatures that are ever seen, even upon the longest voyages. Most of our course lay due southward, and directly across the northern tropic, and, of course, the weather was hot nearly all the time,--so hot that the pitch oozed out from the seams of the planking, and the soles of our shoes parted with a creaking noise every step we took over the deck.