The King's Own Part 5

"You must jump, my lad--there's no going alongside a craft, without any sail to steady her, in such a sea as this. Don't be afraid. We'll pick you up."

w.i.l.l.y, who had little fear in his composition, although he could not swim, leaped from the taffrail of the vessel into the boiling surge, and immediately that he rose to the surface was rescued by the men, who, seizing him by the waistband of the trousers, hauled him into the boat, and threw him down in the bottom under the thwarts. Then, without speaking, they resumed their oars, and pulled to the other vessel, on board of which they succeeded in establishing our hero and themselves, although the boat was stove in the attempt, and cast adrift as useless.

w.i.l.l.y's teeth chattered, and his whole frame trembled with the cold, as he went aft to the captain of the sloop, who was sitting on deck wrapped up in a rough white great-coat, with his pipe in his mouth. The captain was a middle-sized, slightly-made young man, apparently not more than twenty-five years old. His face was oval, with a remarkably pleasing expression; his eye small and brilliant; and, notwithstanding the roughness of his outward attire, there was a degree of precision in the arrangement of his hair and whiskers, which proved that with him neatness was habitual. He had a worsted mitten on his left hand; the right, which held his pipe, was bare, and remarkably white and small.

Perceiving the situation of the boy, he called to one of the men--"Here, Phillips, take this poor devil down, and put something dry on him, and give him a gla.s.s of brandy; when he's all right again, we'll find out from him how he happened to be adrift all by himself, like a bear in a washing-tub. There, go along with Phillips, boy."

"He's of the right sort," said one of the men who had brought him on board, casting his eyes in the direction of our hero, who was descending the companion: "I thought so when I see'd him have his wits about him to hoist the signal. He made no more of jumping overboard than a Newfoundland dog--never stopped two seconds to think on't."

"We shall soon see what he is made of;" replied the captain, relighting his pipe, which had been allowed to go out during the time that they were rescuing w.i.l.l.y and the men from the boat when she returned.

w.i.l.l.y was soon provided with more comfortable clothing; and whether it was or was not from a whim of Phillips's, who had been commissioned to rig him out, he appeared on deck the very picture of the animal which he had been compared to by the sailor. Thick woollen stockings, which were longer than both his legs and thighs, a pair of fisherman's well-greased boots, a dark Guernsey frock that reached below his knees, and a rough pea-jacket that descended to his heels, made him appear much broader than he was high. A red woollen nightcap completed his attire, which, although anything but elegant, was admirably calculated to a.s.sist the brandy in restoring the circulation.

"Here he is, captain, _all a-tanto_, but not very neat," said Phillips, shoving w.i.l.l.y up the hatchway, for he was so enc.u.mbered with the weight of his new apparel that he never could have ascended without a.s.sistance--"I have stowed away some spirits in his hold, and he no longer beats the devil's tattoo with his grinders."

"Now, my lad," said the captain, taking his pipe out of his mouth, "tell me what's your name, what you are, and how you came to be adrift in that barky? Tell me the truth--be honest, always be honest, it's the best policy."

Now, it rather unfortunately happened for w.i.l.l.y, that these two first questions were rather difficult for him to answer. He told his story with considerable hesitation--believed his name was Seymour--believed he was a midshipman. He was listened to without interruption by the captain and crew of the vessel, who had gathered round to hear him "spin his yarn." When he had finished, the captain, looking w.i.l.l.y very hard in the face, thus addressed him:--"My little friend, excuse me, but I have some slight knowledge of the world, and I therefore wish that you had not forgotten the little advice I gave you, as a caution, before you commenced your narrative. Did not I say _be honest_? You _believe_ you are an officer, _believe_ your name to be Seymour. I tell you, my lad, in return, that I don't believe a word that you say; but, however, that's of no consequence. It requires reflection to tell a lie, and I have no objection to a little invention, or a little caution with strangers. All that about the battle was very clever; but still, depend upon it honesty's the best policy. When we are better acquainted, I suppose we shall have the truth from you. I see the land on the lee-bow--we shall be into Cherbourg in an hour, when I expect we shall come to a better understanding."

The _Sainte Vierge_, for such was the name of the vessel, which smelt most insufferably of gin, and, as our readers may probably have antic.i.p.ated, was a smuggler, running between Cherbourg and the English coast, soon entered the port, and, having been boarded by the officers of the douane (who made a very proper distinction between smuggling from and to their own territories) came to an anchor close to the mole. As soon as the vessel was secured, the captain went below, and in a few minutes reappearing, dressed in much better taste than one-half of the saunterers in Bond-street, went on sh.o.r.e to the cabaret where he usually took up his quarters, taking with him our hero, whose strange attire, so peculiarly contrasted with that of the captain's, was a source of great amus.e.m.e.nt to the sailors and other people who were a.s.sembled on the quay.

"_Ah, mon capitaine, charme de vous revoir. Buvons un coup, n'est-ce pas_?" said the proprietor of the cabaret, presenting a bottle of prime French brandy, and a liquor gla.s.s, to the captain, as he entered.

"_Heureux voyage, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur_?"

"_Ca va bien_," replied the captain, throwing the gla.s.s of liquor down his throat. "My apartments, if you please, and a bed for this lad.

Tell Mr Beaujou, the slopseller, to come here directly with some clothes for him. Is Captain Debriseau here?"

"He is, sir,--lost all his last cargo--obliged to throw over in deep water."

"Never mind: he ran the two before--he can afford it."

"Ah, but Captain Debriseau is in a very bad humour, nevertheless. He called me an old cheat this morning--_c'est incroyable_."

"Well, present my compliments to him, and say that I request the honour of his company, if he is not otherwise engaged. Come, youngster."

The landlord of the cabaret ushered the captain of the sloop and our hero, with many profound bows, into a low dark room, with only one window, the light from which was intercepted by a high wall, not four feet distant. The floor was paved with tiles, the table was deal, not very clean, and the whitewashed walls were hung around with stiff drawings of several smuggling vessels, whose superior sailing and consequent good fortune had rendered them celebrated in the port of Cherbourg. The straw had been lighted under some logs of wood on the hearth, which as yet emitted more smoke than flame: a few chairs, an old battered sofa, and an upright press, completed the furniture.

"I knew your beautiful sloop long before she came in--there's no mistaking her; and I ordered the apartment _de Monsieur_ to be prepared.

_C'est un joli apartement, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur_? so retired!" With some forbearance, but with great judgment, the beauty of the prospect was not expatiated upon by the obsequious landlord.

"It will do to smoke and eat in, Monsieur Picardon, and that is all that I require. Now bring pipes and tobacco, and take my message to Captain Debriseau."

The latter gentlemen and the pipes were ushered in at the same moment.

"McElvina, my dear fellow, I am glad to see that you have had better luck than I have had this last trip. Curses on the cutter.

_Sacristie_," continued Captain Debriseau, who was a native of Guernsey, "the wind favoured her three points after we were about, or I should have doubled him--ay, and have doubled the weight of the leathern bag too. _Sacre nom de Dieu_," continued he, grinding his teeth, and pulling a handful of hair out of his rough head, which could have spared as much as Absalom used to poll--"_Que ca me fait bisquer_."

"_Bah! Laissez aller, mon ami_--sit down and take a pipe," rejoined our captain. "This is but pettifogging work at the best: it won't pay for the means of resistance. My lugger will be ready in May, and then I'll see what a revenue cutter is made of. I was at Ostend last Christmas, and saw her. By Jove, she's a beauty! She was planked above the watermark then, and must be nearly ready for launching by this time.

I'll pa.s.s through the Race but once more; then adieu to dark nights and south-west gales--and huzza for a row of teeth, with the will, as well as the power, to bite. Sixteen long nines, my boy!"

"Quick returns, though, quick returns, messmate," answered Debriseau, referring to the Cherbourg system of smuggling, which, being his own means of livelihood, he did not like to hear disparaged.

For the benefit of those who have no objection to unite a little information with amus.e.m.e.nt, I shall here enter into a few remarks relative to the smuggling carried on between the port of Cherbourg and our own coast,--premising that my readers have my entire approbation to skip over a page or two, if they are not anxious to know anything about these nefarious transactions.

The port of Cherbourg, from its central situation, is better adapted than any other in France for carrying on this trade with the southern coast of England. The nearest port to it, and at which, therefore, the smuggling is princ.i.p.ally carried on, is the Bill of Portland, near to the fashionable watering-place of Weymouth.

The vessels employed in this contraband trade, of which gin is the staple commodity, are generally small luggers or sloops, from forty to sixty tons burthen. In fine summer weather, row-boats are occasionally employed; but as the _run_ is only of twenty-four hours' duration, the dark nights and south-west gales are what are chiefly depended upon.

These vessels are not armed with an intention to resist; if they are perceived by the cruisers or revenue vessels before they arrive on the English coast, and are pursued, they are obliged (if not able to escape, from superior sailing) to throw over their cargo in "deep water," and it is lost. The cargo is thrown overboard to avoid the penalty and imprisonment to which it would subject the crew, as well as the confiscation of the vessel and cargo. If they reach the English coast, and are chased by the revenue vessels, or have notice by signals from their agents on sh.o.r.e that they are discovered, and cannot land their cargoes, they take the exact bearings and distances of several points of land, and with heavy stones sink their tubs of spirits, which are always strung upon a hawser like a row of beads. There the cargo is left, until they have an opportunity of going off in boats to creep for it, which is by dragging large hooks at the bottom until they catch the hawser, and regain possession of their tubs. Such is the precision with which their marks are taken, and their dexterity from continual practice, that they seldom fail to recover their cargo. The profits of this contraband trade are so great, that if two cargoes are lost, a third safely landed will indemnify the owners.

I must now observe, much to the discredit of the parties who are concerned, that this contraband trade is not carried on by individuals, but by a company; one hundred pounds shares are taken of "_a speculation_," the profits of which are divided yearly: and many individuals residing on the coast, who would be thought incapable of lending themselves to such transactions are known to be deeply interested.

The smuggling from Havre and Ostend, etcetera, is confined to the coast of Ireland and the northern sh.o.r.es of England; the cargoes are a.s.sorted and of great value; and as the voyage and risk are greater, they are generally fast-sailing vessels, well manned and armed, to enable them to offer resistance, when the disparity of force is not too great on their side.

Captain McElvina had taken up the smuggling trade between Cherbourg and Portland to keep himself employed until a fine lugger of sixteen guns, the command of which had been promised to him, and which was intended to run between Havre and the coast of Ireland, should be ready; whereas Captain Debriseau had been all his life employed in the Cherbourg trade, and had no intention of quitting it.

"But what have you got there, Mac?" said Debriseau, pointing with his pipe to our hero, who sat on the leathern sofa, rolled up in his uncouth attire; "is it a bear, or a boy?"

"A boy, that I picked up from a wreck. I am thinking what I shall do with him--he is a smart, bold lad."

"By Jupiter," rejoined Debriseau, "I'll make him my Ganymede, till he grows older."

Had w.i.l.l.y been as learned in mythology as Captain Debriseau, he might have informed him that he had served in that capacity in his last situation under Mr Bullock; but although the names, as appertaining to a ship, were not unknown to him, yet the attributes of the respective parties were a part of his education that old Adams had omitted.

"He will be fit for anything," rejoined our captain, "if he will only be honest."

"McElvina," said Debriseau, "you always have these words in your mouth, 'be honest.' Now, as, between ourselves, I do not think that either you or I are leading very honest lives, allow me to ask you why you continually harp upon honesty when we are alone? I can easily understand the propriety of shamming a little before the world."

"Debriseau, had any other man said half as much, I would have started my grog in his face. It's no humbug on my part. I mean it sincerely; and, to prove it, I will now give you a short sketch of my life; and after you have heard it, I have no doubt but that you will acknowledge, with me, the truth of the old adage, that 'Honesty is the best policy.'"

But Captain McElvina must have a chapter to himself.

CHAPTER TEN.

He hath as fine a hand at picking a pocket as a woman, and is as nimble-fingered as a juggler. If an unlucky session does not cut the rope of his life, I p.r.o.nounce he will be a great man in history.

_Beggar's Opera_.

"It is an old proverb that 'one half of the world do not know _how_ the other half live.' Add to it, nor _where_ they live, and it will be as true. There is a cla.s.s of people, of whose existence the public are too well aware; but of whose resorts, and manners, and customs, among their own fraternity, they are quite as ignorant now as they were one hundred years back. Like the Chinese and the castes of the East, they never change their profession, but bequeath it from father to son, as an entailed estate from which they are to derive their subsistence. The cla.s.s to which I refer, consists of those members of the community at large, who gain their livelihood by inserting their hands into the pockets of other people,--not but that all the world are doing the same thing, and have, since the creation; but then it is only as _amateurs_-- the cla.s.s that I refer to, do it _professionally_, which, you must observe, makes a wide difference. From this cla.s.s I am lineally descended; and, at an early age, was duly initiated into all the mysteries of my profession. I could filch a handkerchief as soon as I was high enough to reach a pocket, and was declared to be a most promising child.

"I must do my father and mother the justice to acknowledge, that while they initiated me in the mysteries of my future profession, they did not attempt to conceal that there were certain disagreeable penalties attached to 'greatness;' but, when prepared from our earliest years, we look forward to our fate with resignation: and, as I was invariably told, after my return from some daring feat, that my life would be a short and a merry one, I was not dismayed at the words of my prophetic mother, who observed, 'Patrick, my boy, if you don't wish to bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave, promise me to confine yourself to picking pockets; you will then only be transported: but if you try your hand at higher work, you'll be hung before you're twenty.' My father, when I returned with a full a.s.sorted cargo, and emptied my pockets into his hands, with as much rapidity as I had transferred the contents of others into my own, used to look at me with a smile of pride and satisfaction, and, shaking his head, would exclaim--'Pat, you'll certainly be hung.'

"Accustomed, therefore, from my infancy, to consider twenty summers, instead of threescore years and ten, as the allotted s.p.a.ce of my existence, I looked forward to my exit from this world, by the new drop, with the same placidity as the n.o.bleman awaits the time appointed for the entrance of his body into the vault containing the dust of his ancestors. At the age of eleven years, I considered myself a full-grown man, dared all that man could do, and was a constant, but unwilling attendant upon the police office, where my youth, and the promises of my mother that I should be reformed, a.s.sisted by showers of tears on her part, and by apparent ingenuousness on mine, frequently pleaded in my favour with the prosecutors.

"I often lamented, when at that early age, that my want of education prevented me from attempting the higher walks of our profession; but this object of my ambition was gained at last. I had taken a pocket-book from a worthy Quaker, and, unfortunately, was perceived by a man at a shop window, who came out, collared, and delivered me into the hands of the prim gentleman. Having first secured his property, he then walked with me and a police officer to Bow-street. My innocent face, and my tears, induced the old gentleman, who was a member of the Philanthropic Society, not only not to prefer the charge against me, but to send me to the inst.i.tution at Blackfriars-road.