“We shall see—we shall see,” said I.
“I say, Don Timotheus,” quoth Bang, “you don’t mean to be off without drinking our healths?” as he tipped him a tumbler of brandy-grog of very dangerous strength.
The warrant-officer drank it and vanished; and presently Mr Gelid’s brother, who had just returned from one of the out islands, made his appearance, and, after the greeting between them was over, the stranger advanced, and with much grace invited us en masse to his house. But by this time Mr Wagtail was so ill that we could not move that night, our chief concern now being to see him properly bestowed; and very soon I was convinced that his disease was a violent bilious fever.
The old brown landlady, like all her caste, was a most excellent nurse; and after the most approved and skilful surgeon of the town had seen him, and prescribed what was thought right, we all turned in. Next morning, before any of us were up, a whole plateful of cards were handed to us, and during the forenoon these were followed by as many invitations to dinner. We had difficulty in making our election, but that day I remember we dined at the beautiful Mrs C——’s, and in the evening adjourned to a ball—a very gay affair; and I do freely avow that I never saw so many pretty women in a community of the same size before. Oh! it was a little paradise, and not without its Eve. But such an Eve! I scarcely think the old Serpent himself could have found it in his heart to have beguiled her.
“I say, Tom, my dear boy,” said Mr Bang, “do you see that darling? Oh, who can picture to himself, without a tear, that such a creature of light, such an ethereal-looking thing, whose step ‘would ne’er wear out the everlasting flint,’ that floating gossamer on the thin air, shall one day become an anxious-looking, sharp-featured, pale-faced, loud-tongued, thin-bosomed, broad-hipped wife!”
The next day, or rather in the same night, his Majesty’s ship Rabo arrived, and the first tidings we had of it in the morning were communicated by Captain Qeuedechat himself, an honest, uproarious sailor, who chose to begin, as many a worthy ends, by driving up to the door of the lodging in a cart.
“Is the captain of the small schooner that was swamped here?” he asked of Massa Pegtop.
“Free and easy this,” thought I.
“Yes, sir, Captain Cringle is here, but him no get up yet.”
“Oh, never mind; tell him not to hurry himself. But where is the table laid for breakfast?”
“Here, sir,” said Pegtop, as he showed him into the piazza.
“Ah, that will do—so, give me the newspaper—tol de rol!” and he began reading and singing, in all the buoyancy of mind consequent on escaping from shipboard after a three months’ cruise.
I dressed and came to him as soon as I could; and the gallant captain, whom I had figured to myself a fine light gossamer lad of twenty-two, stared me in the face as a fat elderly cock of forty at the least; and as to bulk, I would not have guaranteed that eighteen stone could have made him kick the beam. However, he was an excellent fellow, and that day he and his crew were of most essential service in assisting me in refitting the Wave, for which I shall always be grateful. I had spent the greater part of the forenoon in my professional duty, but about two o’clock I had knocked off in order to make a few calls on the families to whom I had introductions, and who were afterwards so signally kind to me. I then returned to our lodgings in order to dress for dinner, before I sallied forth to worthy old Mr N——’s, where we were all to dine, when I met Aaron.
“No chance of our removing to Peter Gelid’s this evening.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Oh, poor Pepperpot Wagtail is become alarmingly ill; inflammatory symptoms have appeared, and—” Here the colloquy was cut short by the entrance of Mrs Peter Gelid—a pretty woman enough. She had come to learn herself from our landlady how Mr Wagtail was, and with the kindliness of the country she volunteered to visit poor little Waggy in his sickbed. I did not go into the room with her but when she returned, she startled us all a good deal by stating her opinion that the worthy man was really very ill, in which she was corroborated by the doctor, who now arrived. So soon as the medico saw him, he bled him, and after prescribing a lot of effervescing draughts and various febrifuge mixtures, he left a large blister with the old brown landlady, to be applied over his stomach if the wavering and flightiness did not leave him before morning. We returned early after dinner from Mr N——’s to our lodgings, and as I knew Gelid was expected at his brother’s in the evening, to meet a large assemblage of kindred, and as the night was rainy and tempestuous, I persuaded him to trust the watch to me; and as our brown landlady had been up nearly the whole of the previous night, I sent for Tailtackle to spell me, while the black valets acted with great assiduity in their capacity of surgeon’s mates. About two in the morning Mr Wagtail became delirious, and it was all that I could do, aided by my sable assistants and an old black nurse, to hold him down in his bed. Now was the time to clap on the blister, but he repeatedly tore it off, so that at length we had to give it up for an impracticable job; and Tailtackle, whom I had called from his pallet, where he had gone to lie down for an hour, placed the caustico, as the Spaniards call it, at the side of the bed.
“No use in trying this any more at present,” said I we must wait until he gets quieter, Mr Tailtackle; so go to your bed, and I shall lie down on this sofa here, where Marie Paparoche” (this was our old landlady) “has spread sheets, I see, and made all comfortable. And send Mr Bang’s servant, will you?” (friend Aaron had ridden into the country after dinner to visit a friend and the storm, as I conjectured, had kept him there); “he is fresh, and will call me in case I be wanted, or Mr Wagtail gets worse.”
I lay down, and soon fell fast asleep, and I remembered nothing until I awoke about eleven o’clock next morning, and heard Mr Bang speaking to Wagtail, at whose bedside he was standing.
“Pepperpot, my dear, be thankful—you are quite cool—a fine moisture on your skin this morning—be thankful, my little man—how did your blister rise?”
“My good friend,” quoth Wagtail, in a thin weak voice, “I can’t tell—I don’t know; but this I perceive, that I am unable to rise, whether it has risen or no.”
“Ah—weak,” quoth Gelid, who had now entered the room.
“Nay,” said Pepperpot, “not so weak as deucedly sore, and on a very unromantic spot, my dears.”
“Why,” said Aaron, “the pit of the stomach is not a very genteel department, nor the abdomen neither.”
“Why,” said Wagtail, “I have no blister on either of those places, but if it were possible to dream of such a thing, I would say it had been clapped on—”
Here his innate propriety tongue-tied him.
“Eh?” said Aaron; “what! has the caustico that was intended for the frontiers of Belgium, been clapped by mistake on the broad Pays Bas!”
And so in very truth it turned out; for while we slept the patient had risen, and sat down on the blister that lay, as already mentioned, on a chair at his bedside, and, again toppling into bed, had fallen into a sound sleep, from which he had but a few moments before the time I write of awoke.
“Why, now,” continued Aaron to the doctor of the Wave, who had just entered—”why, here is a discovery, my dear doctor. You clap a hot blister on a poor fellow’s head to cool it, but Doctor Cringle there has cooled Master Wagtail’s brain by blistering his stern—eh? Make notes, and mind you report this to the College of Surgeons.” *
I cleared myself of these imputations. Wagtail recovered: our refitting was completed; our wood and water and provisions replenished; and after spending one of the happiest fortnights of my life, in one continued round of gaiety, I prepared to leave—with tears in my eyes, I will confess—the clear waters, bright blue skies, glorious climate, and warm-hearted community of Nassau, New Providence. Well might that old villain Blackbeard have made this sweet spot his favourite rendezvous. By the way, this same John Teach, or Blackbeard, had fourteen wives in the lovely island; and I am not sure but I could have
picked out something approximating to the aforesaid number myself, with time and opportunity, from among such a galaxy of loveliness as then shone and sparkled in this dear little town. Speaking of the pirate Blackbeard, I ought to have related that one morning when I was at breakfast at Mrs C——’s, the amiable and beautiful and innocent girl-matron—ay, you supercilious son of a sea-cook, you may turn tip your nose at the expression, but if you could have seen the burden of my song* as I saw her, and felt the elegancies of her manner and conversation as I felt them—but let us stick to Blackbeard, if you please. We were all comfortably seated at breakfast; I had finished my sixth egg, had concealed a beautiful dried snapper, before which even a rizzard haddock sank into insignificance, and was bethinking me of finishing off with a slice of Scotch mutton-ham, when in slid Mr Bang. He was received with all possible cordiality, and commenced operations very vigorously.
He was an amazing favourite of our hostess (as where was he not a favourite?), so that it was some time before he even looked my way. We were in the midst of a discussion regarding the beauty of New Providence, and the West India islands in general; and I was remarking that nature had been liberal, that the scenery was unquestionably magnificent in the larger islands, and beautiful in the smaller; but there were none of those heart-stirring reminiscences, none of those thrilling electrical associations, which vibrate to the heart at visiting scenes in Europe famous in antiquity—famous as the spot in which recent victories had been achieved—famous even for the very freebooters, who once held unlawful sway in the neighbourhood. “Why, there never has flourished hereabouts, for instance, even one thoroughly melodramatic thief.” Massa Aaron let me go on, until he had nearly finished his breakfast. At length he fired a shot at me.
“I say, Tom, you are expatiating, I see. Nothing heart-stirring, say you? In new countries it would bother you to have old associations certainly; and you have had your Rob Roy, I grant you, and the old country has had her Robin Hood. But has not Jamaica had her Three-fingered Jack? Ay, a more gentlemanlike scoundrel than either of the former. When did Jack refuse a piece of yam, and a cordial from his horn, to the wayworn man, white or black? When did he injure a woman? When did Jack refuse food and a draught of cold water—the greatest boon, in our ardent climate, that he could offer—to a wearied child? Oh, there was much poetry in the poor fellow! And here, had they not that most melodramatic (as you choose to word it) of thieves, Blackbeard, before whom Bluebeard must for ever hide his diminished head? Why Bluebeard had only one wife at a time, although he murdered five of them, whereas Blackbeard had seldom fewer than a dozen, and he was never known to murder above three. But I have fallen in with such a treasure! Oh, such a discovery! I have been communing with Noah himself—with an old negro who remembers this very Blackbeard—the pirate Blackbeard.”
“The deuce!” said I; “impossible!”
“But it is true. Why, it is only ninety-four years ago since the scoundrel flourished, and this old cock is one hundred and ten. I have jotted it down—worth a hundred pounds. Read, my adorable Mrs C——, read.”
“But, my dear Mr Bang,” said she, “had you not better read it yourself?”
“You, if you please,” quoth Aaron, who forthwith set himself to make the best use of his time.
MEMOIR OF JOHN TEACH, ESQUIRE, VULGARLY CALLED BLACKBEARD, BY AARON BANG, ESQUIRE, F.R.S.
“He was the mildest-mannered man
That ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat;
With such true breeding of a gentleman,
You never could discern his real thought.
Pity he loved adventurous life’s variety,
He was so great a loss to good society.”
John Teach, or Blackbeard, was a very eminent man—a very handsome man, and a very devil amongst the ladies.
He was a Welshman, and introduced the leek into Nassau about the year 1718, and was a very remarkable personage, although, from some singular imperfection in his moral constitution, he never could distinguish clearly between meum and tuum.
He found his patrimony was not sufficient to support him, and, as he disliked agricultural pursuits as much as mercantile, he got together forty or fifty fine young men one day, and borrowed a vessel from some merchants that was lying at the Nore, and set sail for the Bahamas. On his way he fell in with several West Indiamen, and, sending a boat on board of each, he asked them for the loan of provisions and wine, and all their gold and silver and clothes, which request was, in every instance but one, civilly acceded to; whereupon, drinking their good healths, he returned to his ship. In the instance where he had been uncivilly treated, to show his forbearance he saluted them with twenty-one guns; but by some accident the shot had not been withdrawn, so that, unfortunately, the contumacious ill-bred craft sank, and, as Blackbeard’s own vessel was very crowded, he was unable to save any of the crew. He was a great admirer of fine air, and accordingly established himself on the island of New Providence, and invited a number of elegant young men, who were fond of pleasure cruises, to visit him, so that presently he found it necessary to launch forth, in order to borrow more provisions.
At this period he was a great dandy; and, amongst other vagaries, he allowed his beard to grow a foot long at the shortest, and then plaited it into three strands, indicating that he was a bashaw of no common dimensions. He wore red breeches, but no stockings, and sandals of bullock’s hide. He was a perfect Egyptian in his curiousness in fine linen, and his shirt was always white as the driven snow when it was clean, which was the first Sunday of every month. In waistcoats he was especially select; but the cut of them very much depended on the fashion in favour with the last gentleman he had borrowed from. He never wore anything but a full-dress purple velvet coat, under which bristled three brace of pistols, and two naked stilettoes, only eighteen inches long, and he had generally a lighted match, fizzing in the bow of his cocked scraper, whereat he lighted his pipe, or fired of a cannon, as pleased him.
One of his favourite amusements, when he got half slewed, was to adjourn to the hold with his compotators, and, kindling some brimstone matches, to dance and roar as if he had been the devil himself, until his allies were nearly suffocated. At another time he would blow out the candles in the cabin, and blaze away with his loaded pistols at random, right and left, whereby he severely wounded the feelings of some of his intimates by the poignancy of his wit, all of which he considered a most excellent joke. But he was kind to his fourteen wives so long as he was sober, as it is known that he never murdered above three of them. His borrowing, however, gave offence to our government, no one can tell how; and at length two of our frigates, the Lime and Pearl, then cruising off the American coast, after driving him from his stronghold, hunted him down in an inlet in North Carolina, where, in an eight-gun schooner, with thirty desperate fellows, he made a defence worthy of his honourable life, and fought so furiously that he killed and wounded more men of the attacking party than his own crew consisted of; and, following up his success, he boarded, sword in hand, the headmost of the two armed sloops, which had been detached by the frigates, with ninety men on board, to capture him; and being followed by twelve men and his trusty lieutenant, he would have carried her out and out, maugre the disparity of force, had he not fainted from loss of blood, when, falling on his back, he died where he fell, like a hero—
“His face to the sky, and his feet to the foe”—
leaving eleven forlorn widows, being the fourteen wives, minus the three that he had throttled.
“No chivalrous associations indeed! Match me such a character as this.”
We all applauded to the echo. But I must end my song, for I should never tire in dwelling on the happy days we spent in this most enchanting little island. The lovely blithe girls, and the hospitable kind-hearted men, and the children! I never saw such cherubs—with all the sprightliness of the little pale-faced creoles of the West Indies, while the healthy bloom of Old England blossomed on their cheeks.
“I say, Tom,” said
Massa Aaron, on one occasion when I was rather tedious on the subject, “all those little cherubs, as you call them, at least the most of them, are the offspring of the cotton bales captured in the American war.”
“The what?” said I.
“The children of the American war—and I will prove it thus—taking the time from no less an authority than Hamlet, when he chose to follow the great Dictator, Julius Caesar himself, through all the corruption of our physical nature, until he found him stopping a beer barrel—(only imagine the froth of one of our disinterested friend Buxton’s beer barrels, savouring of quassia, not hop, fizzing through the clay of Julias Caesar the Roman!)—as thus: If there had been no Yankee war, there would have been no prize cargoes of cotton sent into Nassau; if there had been no prize cargoes sent into Nassau, there would have been little money made; if there had been little money made, there would have been fewer marriages; if there had been fewer marriages, there would have been fewer cherubs. There is logic for you, my darling.”
“Your last is a non sequitur, my dear sir,” said I, laughing. “But, in the main, Parson Malthus is right—out of Ireland, that is—after all.”
That evening I got into a small scrape, by impressing three apprentices out of a Scotch brig, and if Mr Bang had not stood my friend, I might have got into serious trouble. Thanks to him, the affair was soldered.
When on the eve of sailing—having received a letter ordering me to join the Firebrand at Crooked Island—my excellent friends, Messrs Bang, Gelid, and Wagtail, determined, in consequence of letters which they had received from Jamaica, to return home in a beautiful armed brig that was to sail in a few days, laden with flour. I cannot well describe how much this moved me. Young and enthusiastic as I was, I had grappled myself with hooks of steel to Mr Bang; and now, when he unexpectedly communicated his intention of leaving me, I felt more forlorn and deserted than I was willing to plead to.
“My dear boy,” said he, “make my peace with Transom. If urgent business had not pressed me, I would not have broken my promise to rejoin him; but I am imperiously called for in Jamaica, where I hope soon to see you.” He continued, with a slight tremor in his voice, which thrilled to my heart, as it vouched for the strength of big regard—”If ever I am where you may come, Tom, and you don’t make my house your home, provided you have not a better of your own, I will never forgive you.” He paused. “You young fellows sometimes spend faster than you should do, and quarterly bills are long of coming round. I have drawn for more money than I want. I wish you would let me be your banker for a hundred pounds, Tom.”
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