CHAPTER XLIII.
There are different opinions as to how the world is to end. Some say itwill eventually fall a prey to that rapacious monster, the sun, whichseems to be according to these people a veritable gourmand; requiring anenormous quantity of food to keep him going, and thinking no more of aplanet than an ordinary individual does of an oyster. Others seem tothink that the present inhabitants are to be frozen out, while othersagain think that the balance of things is to be upset, and that some daywe shall, world and all, be flung into unlimitable space, waking upeventually perhaps the peace and quiet of some far off system. Whateverthe method, the result will be the same, so far as the inhabitants areconcerned. All people are selfish enough to hope that things will lasttheir time, for no matter how the world is abused, and called all sortsof bad names, but few leave it willingly, and if they could look outupon the many beauties with which they are surrounded; if they could becured of their blindness, they would see something fresh every day togive them pleasure.
It was equally a matter of doubt as to how this brave old Buccaneer wasto make his final exit. Frequently the last stroke of death is not givenby that ailment that has been threatening through life. But as to theBuccaneer? Would his neighbours step in, and taking advantage of hisweakness, knock the old gentleman on the head, and then divide hisriches amongst themselves, and thus save all further trouble toadministrators and executors? Would Demos, taking advantage of theposition his wanton mother Liberty had placed him in, club the oldgentleman, and so give him the finishing stroke? Such a thing hashappened before now, in the world's history, and it may happen again.Children petted and spoiled, have ere now risen against their parents,and have cruelly treated them. Was the old Buccaneer, the prosperoustrader, to have the last drop of blood sucked out of him, by the foreignparasites and cheap-Jacks, or was he doomed to have the last spark oflife trampled out of him by the Ojabberaways? Again, what if this oldBuccaneer, who had sailed for so many years under the death's head andcross-bones, were destined to end his days under Petticoat Government?There would be a strange irony in this, and such a thing would go far,no doubt, to rectify the many injustices that the fair sex from thebeginning has been subjected to. Revenge is sweet, and no doubt if thiswere to happen, the last moments of the Buccaneer would not be passed inpeace. But of his end who can tell? It would be but waste of timefurther to surmise, for we must say farewell to our brave old friend. Wewill leave him in the hands of the great quack doctor and his numerousattendants. What matters it, whether after lingering for a while below,he was taken up to heaven on a snow white cloud, the fringe of which wasillumined by the glowing embers of a world he loved so well, and inwhich he had played a by no means insignificant part? What if he passedaway before the final consummation of all things, leaving his spiritsbehind to walk the earth, and to encourage some weary traveller who,commencing life as a Buccaneer, lives in after years under theprotection of the great uncrowned queen Respectability, and takes forhis fancy dress the cowl and frock of a monk?
The last moments of the great and powerful are sad to contemplate, andare not lightly to be intruded upon. We see the mighty intellectimpaired, and the babbling tongue let loose. We see the strong arm thatwas once the terror of all those who came within its reach lyinglistless on the counterpane, with emaciated fingers whose strength isnot sufficient to crush a fly. Character, virtue, intellect, all thatgoes to make a man great, have to retire into the shade of the sickchamber, and wait patiently there, silently watching the ravages thatare being made. Then with the last breath of the dying man, Reputationspreads her wings, soiled perhaps, and torn by slander, and pierced bythe sharp pointed shafts of ill-nature, and takes refuge in the marblepalaces of History, where things are cleansed and purified, or condemnedto everlasting obloquy.
We drop the curtain, and wish this celebrated Buccaneer a long goodnight.
THE END.
The Life of a Celebrated Buccaneer Page 43
