Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood Trader

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  A TERRIBLE DOOM FOR AN INNOCENT MAN.

  "So, you're to be hanged for a pirate, Jo Bumpus, ye are--that'spleasant to think of anyhow."

  Such was the remark which our stout seaman addressed to himself when heawoke on the second morning after the departure of the _Wasp_. If thethought was really as pleasant as he asserted it to be, his visage musthave been a bad index to the state of his mind; for at that particularmoment Jo looked uncommonly miserable.

  The wonted good-humoured expression of his countenance had given placeto a gaze of stereotyped surprise and solemnity. Indeed Bumpus seemedto have parted with much of his reason and all of his philosophy, for hecould say nothing else during at least half-an-hour after awaking exceptthe phrase--"So, you're going to be hanged for a pirate." His commentson the phrase were, however, a little varied, though always brief--suchas--"Wot a sell! Who'd ha' thought it! It's a dream, it is, an'orrible dream! _I_ don't believe it--who does? Wot'll your poormother say?"--and the like.

  Bumpus had, unfortunately, good ground for making this statement.

  After the cutter sailed it was discovered that Bumpus was concealed inMrs Stuart's cottage. This discovery had been the result of theseaman's own recklessness and indiscretion; for when he ascertained thathe was to be kept a prisoner in the cottage until the return of the_Wasp_, he at once made up his mind to submit with a good grace to whatcould not be avoided. In order to prove that he was by no means castdown, as well as to lighten the tedium of his confinement, Joentertained himself by singing snatches of sea songs--such as, "My tightlittle craft,"--"A life on the stormy sea,"--"Oh! for a draught of thehowling blast," etcetera, all of which he delivered in a bass voice sopowerful that it caused the rafters of the widow's cottage to ringagain.

  These melodious not to say thunderous sounds, also caused the ears of asmall native youth to tingle with curiosity. This urchin crept on hisbrown little knees under the window of Bumpus's apartment, got on hisbrown and dirty little tiptoes, placed his brown little hands on thesill, hauled his brown and half-naked little body up by sheer force ofmuscle, and peeped into the room with his large and staring brown eyes,the whites of which were displayed to their full extent.

  Jo was in the middle of an enthusiastic "oh!" when the urchin's headappeared. Instead of expressing his passionate desire for a "draught ofthe howling blast," he prolonged the "oh!" into a hideous yell, andthrust his blazing face close to the window so suddenly that the boy letgo his hold, fell backwards, and rolled head over heels into a ditch,out of which he scrambled with violent haste, and ran with the utmostpossible precipitancy to his native home on the sea-shore.

  Here he related what he had seen to his father. The father went andlooked in upon Jo's solitude. He happened to have seen Bumpus duringthe great fight and knew him to be one of the pirates. The village rose_en masse_. Some of the worst characters in it stirred up the rest,went to the widow's cottage, and demanded that the person of the pirateshould be delivered up.

  The widow objected. The settlers insisted. The widow protested. Thesettlers threatened force. Upon this the widow reasoned with them;besought them to remember that the missionary would be back in a day ortwo, and that it would be well to have his advice before they didanything, and finally agreed to give up her charge on receiving apromise that he should have a fair trial.

  Bumpus was accordingly bound with ropes, led in triumph through thevillage, and placed in a strong wooden building which was used as thejail of the place.

  The trial that followed was a mere mockery. The leading spirits of itwere those who had been styled by Mr Mason, "enemies within the camp."They elected themselves to the offices of prosecutor and judge as wellas taking the trouble to act the part of jurymen and witnesses.

  Poor John Bumpus's doom was sealed before the trial began. They hadprejudged the case, and only went through the form to ease their ownconsciences and to fulfil their promise to the widow.

  It was in vain that Bumpus asserted, with a bold, honest countenance,that he was not a pirate; that he never had been, and never would be apirate; that he did not believe the _Foam_ was a pirate--though he wasfree to confess its crew "_wos_ bad enough for anything a'most;" that hehad been hired in South America (where he had been shipwrecked) byCaptain Gascoyne, the sandal-wood trader; that he had made the voyagestraight from that coast to this island without meeting a single sail;and that he had never seen a shot fired or a cutlass drawn aboard theschooner.

  To all this there was but one coarsely-expressed answer--"It is a lie!"Jo had no proof to give of the truth of what he said, so he wascondemned to be hanged by the neck till he should be dead; and as hisjudges were afraid that the return of the _Wasp_ might interfere withtheir proceedings, it was arranged that he should be executed on thefollowing day at noon!

  It must not be imagined that, in a Christian village such as we havedescribed, there was no one who felt that this trial was too hastilygone into, and too violently conducted. But those who were inclined totake a merciful view of the case, and who pled for delay, were chieflynatives, while the violent party was composed of most of theill-disposed European settlers.

  The natives had been so much accustomed to put confidence in the wisdomof the white men since their conversion to Christianity, that they feltunable to cope with them on this occasion, so that Bumpus, after beingcondemned, was led away to his prison, and left alone to his ownreflections.

  It chanced that there was one friend left, unintentionally, in the cellwith the condemned man. This was none other than our friend Toozle, themass of ragged door-mat on which Alice doted so fondly. This little doghad, during the course of the events which have taken so long torecount, done nothing worthy of being recorded. He had, indeed, beenmuch in every one's way, when no one had had time or inclination to takenotice of him. He had, being an affectionate dog, and desirous of muchsympathy, courted attention frequently, and had received many kicks andsevere rebuffs for his pains, and he had also, being a tender-hearteddog, howled dreadfully when he lost his young mistress; but he had notin any way promoted the interests of humanity or advanced the ends ofjustice. Hence our long silence in regard to him.

  Recollecting that he had witnessed evidences of a friendly relationsubsisting between Alice and Bumpus, Toozle straightway sought to pourthe overflowing love and sorrow of his large little heart into the bosomof that supposed pirate. His advances were well received, and from thathour he followed the seaman like his shadow. He shared his prison withhim, trotted behind him when he walked up and down his room in thewidow's cottage; lay down at his feet when he rested; looked upinquiringly in his face when he paused to meditate; whined and waggedhis stump of a tail when he was taken notice of, and lay down to sleepin deep humility when he was neglected.

  Thus it came to pass that Toozle attended the trial of Bumpus, enteredhis cell along with him, slept with him during the night, accompaniedhim to the gallows in the morning, and sat under him, when they wereadjusting the noose, looking up with feelings of unutterable dismay, aswas clearly indicated by the lugubrious and woe-begone cast of hisragged countenance,--but we are anticipating.

  It was on the morning of his execution that Bumpus sat on the edge ofhis hard pallet, gazed at his manacled wrists, and gave vent to thesentiments set down at the beginning of this chapter.

  Toozle sat at his feet looking up in his face sympathetically.

  "No, I _don't_ believe it's possible," said Bumpus, for at least thehundredth time that morning. "It's a joke, that's wot it is. Ain't it,Toozle, my boy?"

  Toozle whined, wagged his tail, and said, a's plainly as if he hadspoken, "Yes, of course it is--an uncommonly bad joke, no doubt; but ajoke, undoubtedly; so keep up your heart, my man."

  "Ah! you're a funny dog," continued Bumpus, "but you don't know wot itis to be hanged, my boy. Hanged! why it's agin all laws o' justice,moral an' otherwise, it is. But I'm dreamin', yes, it's dreamin' I am--but I don't think I ever did dream th
at I thought I was dreamin' an' yetwasn't quite sure. Really it's perplexin', to say the least on it.Ain't it, Toozle?"

  Toozle wagged his tail.

  "Ah, here comes my imaginary jailer to let me out o' this hereabominably real-lookin' imaginary lockup. Hang Jo Bumpus! why it's--"

  Before Jo could find words sufficiently strong to express his opinion ofsuch a murderous intention, the door opened and a surly-looking man--aEuropean settler--entered with his breakfast. This meal consisted of abaked breadfruit and a can of water.

  "Ha! you've come to let me out, have you?" cried Jo, in a tone of forcedpleasantry, which was anything but cheerful.

  "Have I, though!" said the man, setting down the food on a small dealtable that stood at the head of the bedstead; "don't think it, my man;your time's up in another two hours--hallo! where got ye the dog?"

  "It came in with me last night--to keep me company, I fancy, which ismore than the human dogs o' this murderin' place had the civility todo."

  "If it had know'd you was a murderin' pirate," retorted the jailer, "itwould ha' thought twice before it would ha' chose _you_ for a comrade."

  "Come, now," said Bumpus, in a remonstrative tone, "you don't reallyb'lieve I'm a pirate, do you?"

  "In coorse I do."

  "Well, now, that's xtraor'nary. Does everybody else think that too?"

  "Everybody."

  "An' am I _really_ goin' to be hanged?"

  "Till you're dead as mutton."

  "That's entertainin', ain't it, Toozle?" cried poor Bumpus with a laughof desperation, for he found it utterly impossible to persuade himselfto believe in the reality of his awful position.

  As he said nothing more, the jailer went away, and Bumpus, after heavingtwo or three very deep sighs, attempted to partake of his meagrebreakfast. The effort was a vain one. The bite stuck in his throat, sohe washed it down with a gulp of water, and, for the first time in hislife, made up his mind to go without his breakfast.

  A little before twelve o'clock the door again opened, and the surlyjailer entered bearing a halter, and accompanied by six stout men. Theirons were now removed from Bumpus's wrists, and his arms pinionedbehind his back. Being almost stupified with amazement at his position,he submitted without a struggle.

  "I say, friends," he at last exclaimed, "would any amount of oaths tookbefore a maginstrate convince ye that I'm not a pirate, but a true-blueseaman?"

  "If you were to swear from this time till doomsday it would make nodifference. You admit that you were one of the _Foam's_ crew. We nowknow that the _Foam_ and the _Avenger_ are the same schooner. Birds ofa feather flock together. A pirate would swear anything to save hislife. Come, time's up."

  Bumpus bent his head for a minute. The truth forced itself upon him nowin all its dread reality. But no unmanly terrors filled his breast atthat moment. The fear of man or of violent death was a sensation whichthe seaman never knew. The feeling of the huge injustice that was aboutto be done filled him with generous indignation; the blood rushed to histemples, and, with a bound like a tiger, he leaped out of the jailer'sgrasp, hurling him to the ground in the act.

  With the strength almost of a Samson he wrestled with his cords for afew seconds; but they were new and strong. He failed to burst them. Inanother moment he was overpowered by the six men who guarded him. Trueto his principles, he did his utmost to escape. Strong in the faiththat while there is life there is hope, he did not cease to struggle,like a chained giant, until he was placed under the limb of the fataltree which had been selected, and round which an immense crowd ofnatives and white settlers had gathered.

  During the previous night the widow Stuart had striven to save the manwhom she knew to be honest, for Gascoyne had explained to her all abouthis being engaged in his service. But those to whom she appealed, evenon her knees, were immovable. They considered the proof of the man'sguilt quite conclusive, and regarded the widow's intercession as themere weakness of a tender-hearted woman.

  On the following morning, and again beside the fatal tree itself, thewidow pled for the man's life with all her powers of eloquence, but invain. When all hope appeared to have passed away, she could not standto witness so horrible a murder. She fled to her cottage, and, throwingherself on her bed, burst into an agony of tears and prayer.

  But there were some among the European settlers there who, now thatthings had come to a point, felt ill at ease, and would fain have washedtheir hands of the whole affair. Others there were who judged the manfrom his countenance and his acts, not from circumstances. Theseremonstrated even to the last, and advised delay. But the half dozenwho were set upon the man's death--not to gratify a thirst for blood,but to execute due justice on a pirate whom they abhorred--wereinfluential and violent, men. They silenced all opposition at last, andJohn Bumpus finally had the noose put round, his neck.

  "O Susan, Susan," cried the poor man in an agony of intense feeling,"it's little ye thought your Jo would come to such an end as this whenye last sot eyes on him--an' sweet blue eyes they wos, too!"

  There was something ludicrous as well as pathetic in this cry. It didmore for him than the most eloquent pleading could have done. Man, in acrowd, is an unstable being. At any moment he will veer right round andrun in an opposite direction. The idea that the condemned man had aSusan who would mourn over his untimely end, touched a cord in thehearts of many among the crowd. The reference to her sweet blue eyes atsuch a moment raised a smile, and an extremely dismal but opportune howlfrom poor Toozle raised a laugh.

  Bumpus started and looked sternly on the crowd.

  "You may think me a pirate," said he, "but I know enough of the feelin'sof honest men to expect no mercy from those wot can laugh at afellow-creetur in such an hour. You had better get the murder over assoon as ye can. I am ready--Stay! one moment more. I had a'most forgotit. There's a letter here that I want one o' you to take charge of.It's the last I ever got from my Susan, an' if I had taken her advice tolet alone havin' to do with all sandalwood traders, I'd never ha' bin insuch a fix as I am this day. I want it sent back to her with myblessin' and a lock o' my hair. Is there an honest man among ye who'lltake in hand to do this for me?"

  As he spoke, a young man, in a costume somewhat resembling that of asailor, pushed through the crowd, leaped upon the deal table on which Jostood, and removed the noose from his neck.

  An exclamation of anger burst from those who surrounded the table, but asound something like applause broke from the crowd, and restrained anyattempt at violence. The young man at the same time held up his handand asked leave to address them.

  "Ay! ay! let's hear what he has got to say. That's it; speak up, Dan!"

  The youth, whose dark olive complexion proclaimed him to be ahalf-caste, and whose language shewed that he had received at least therudiments of education, stretched out his hand and said--

  "Friends, I do not stand here to interfere with justice. Those who seekto give a pirate his just reward do well. But there has been doubt inthe minds of some that this man may not be a pirate. His own word is ofno value; but if I can bring forward anything to shew that perhaps hisword is true, then we have no right to hang him till we have given him alonger trial."

  "Hear! hear!" from the white men in the crowd, and "Ho! ho!" from thenatives.

  Meanwhile the young man, or Dan, as some one called him, turned toBumpus and asked for the letter to which he had referred. Beinginformed that it was in the inside pocket of his jacket, the youth puthis hand in and drew it forth.

  "May I read it? Your life may depend on what I find here."

  "Sartinly, by all manner of means," replied Jo, not a little surprisedat the turn affairs were taking.

  Dan opened and perused the epistle for a few minutes, during whichintense silence was maintained in the crowd, as if they expected to_hear_ the thoughts of the young man as they passed through his brain.

  "Ha! I thought so," exclaimed Dan, looking up and again addressing thecrowd. "At the trial yes
terday you heard this man say that he wasengaged at San Francisco by Gascoyne on the 12th of April last, and thathe believed the schooner to be a sandalwood trader when he shipped."

  "Yes, yes, ho!" from the crowd.

  "If this statement of his be true, then he was not a pirate when heshipped, and he has not had much time to become one between that timeand this. The letter which I hold in my hand proves the truth of thisstatement. It is dated San Francisco, 11th _April_, and is written in afemale hand. Listen, I will read it, and you shall judge foryourselves."

  The young man then read the following letter, which, being a peculiar aswell as an interesting specimen of a love-letter, we give _verbatim etliteratim_:--

  "Peelers farm near Sanfransko Aprile 11.

  "For John bumpuss, aboord the Skooner fome

  "my darlin Jo,

  "ever sins you towld me yisterday that youd bin an gaged yerself into the fome, my mind has bin Onaisy. Ye no, darlint, from the our ye cald me yer own Susan--in clare county More betoken--iv bin onaisy about ye yer so bowld an Rekles, but this is wurst ov all. Iv no noshun o them sandlewood skooners. The Haf ov thems pirits an The other hafs no beter. Whats wus is that my owld master was drownded in wan, or out o wan, but shure its All the Saim. Down he wint an that wos the Endd.

  "now Deer jo don't go to say in that skooner i beseech ye, jo. Ye towld me that ye liked the looks o the cappen an haited the looks o the Krew. Now deer, take warnin, think ov me. Think ov the words in the coppie book weev writ so often together at owld makmahons skool, eevil emunishakens Krupt yer maners, i misrember it, but ye no wot id be sayin' to ye.

  "o jo Don't go, but cum an see me as soon as iver ye can

  "yours til deth.

  "SUSAN.

  "P.S. the piggs is quite livly but ther not so hansum heer as in the owld country. Don't forgit to rite to your susan."

  No one can conceive the indignation that swelled the broad chest ofhonest John Bumpus when he listened to the laughter with which someparts of this letter were received.

  "Now," said Dan, "could any man want better proof than this that JohnBumpus _is not_ a pirate?"

  This question was answered by a perfect yell from the crowd.

  "Set him free; cut his cords!" cried a voice.

  "Stop, friends," cried a big coarse-looking man, leaping on the tableand jostling Dan out of the way. "Not quite so fast. I don't pretendto be a learned feller, and I can't make a speech with a buttery tonguelike Dan here. But wot I've got to say is--Justice for ever!"

  "Hurrah!" from some of the wild spirits of the crowd. "Go on, Burke,"from others.

  "Yes, wot I say is--Justice for ever! Fair play an' no favour: _That's_wot I say!"

  Another cheer greeted the bold assertion of these noble sentiments.

  "Now, here it is," continued Burke, becoming much excited, "wot's tohinder that there letter bein' a forgery?--ay, that's the word, aforgery? (Hear! hear!) got up a-purpose to bamboozle us chaps thatain't lawyers. D'ye see?"

  Burke glanced at Dan and smote his thigh triumphantly as he said this.

  "It does not _look_ like a forgery," said Dan, holding up the letter andpointing to the writing. "I leave it to yourselves to say if it_sounds_ like a forgery--"

  "I don't care a farthin' dip for yer _looks_ and _sounds_," cried Burke,interrupting the other. "No man is goin' for to tell me that anybodycan trust to _looks_ and _sounds_. Why, I've know'd the greatestvillain that ever chewed the end of a smuggled cigar _look_ as innocentas the babe unborn. An' is there a man here wot'll tell me he hasn'toften an' over again mistook the crack of a big gun for a clap o'thunder?"

  This was received with much approval by the crowd, which had evidentlymore than half-forgotten the terrible purpose for which it had assembledthere, and was now much interested in what bid fair to be a keendispute. When the noise abated, Dan raised his voice and said--"IfBurke had not interrupted me, I was going to have said that anotherthing which proves the letter to be no forgery is, that the post-mark ofSan Francisco is on the back of it, with the date all right."

  This statement delighted the crowd immensely, and caused Burke to lookdisconcerted for a few seconds; he rallied, however, and returned to thecharge.

  "Post-marks! wot do I care for post-marks? Can't a man forge apost-mark as easy as any other mark?"

  "Ah! that's true," from a voice in the crowd.

  "No, not so easily as _any_ other mark," retorted Dan, "for it's madewith a kind of ink that's not sold in shops. Everything goes to provethat the letter is no forgery. But, Mr Burke, will you answer methis--if it _was_ a forgery, got up for the purpose of saving this man'slife, _at what time was it forged_? for Bumpus could not know that hewould ever need such a letter until yesterday afternoon, and betweenthat time and this there was but little time to forge a letter from SanFrancisco, post-mark and all, and make it soiled and worn at the edgeslike an old letter. (`Hear!' and sensation.) More than that," criedDan, waxing eager and earnest, "if it was a forgery, got up for thispurpose, _why was it not produced at the trial_? (`Hear! hear!' andcheers!) And, last of all, why, if this forgery was so important tohim, did John Bumpus forget all about it until he stood on this table;ay, _until the rope was round his neck_?"

  A perfect storm of cheers and applause followed this last sentence, inthe midst of which there were cries of "You're floored, Burke! Hurrahfor Bumpus! Cut the ropes!"

  But although John's life was now safe, his indignation at Susan's letterhaving been laughed at was not altogether allayed.

  "I'll tell ye wot it is," said he, the instant there was a lull in theuproar of voices. "If you think that I'll stand here and see my Susan'sletter insulted before my eyes, you're very far out o' your reckoning.Just cut them ropes an put any two o' ye'r biggest men, black or white,before _me_, an' if I don't shew them a lot o' new stars as hasn't beenseed in no sky wotiver since Adam was a little boy, my name's--"

  Up to this point Jo was heard, but the conclusion of his defiance wasdrowned in roars of laughter.

  "Cut the ropes," shouted the crowd.

  Dan drew a clasp-knife from his pocket, and with one stroke set Bumpusfree.

  "Shoulder high," yelled a voice; "hurrah!"

  A wild rush was made at the table. Jo's executioners were overturnedand trampled under foot, and the table, with himself and his youngadvocate sprawling on it, was raised on the shoulders of the crowd andborne off in triumph.

  Half-an-hour later, Bumpus was set down at the widow's door. MrsStuart received him with a scream of surprise and joy, for she had givenhim up as a lost man.

  "Now, then, Mrs Stuart," said Jo, throwing himself on a chair andwiping the perspiration from his forehead, "don't make such a fuss aboutme, like a good creetur. But do get me a bit o' bacon, and let's bethankful that I'm here to eat it. Cut it fat, Mrs Stuart; cut it fat;for it's wonderful wot a appetite I've got after such a mornin's work asI've gone through. Well, well, after all that yer friends have said ofye, Jo Bumpus, I do believe that yer _not_ born to be hanged?"