The King's Own

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER NINE.

  And there he went ashore without delay, Having no custom-house nor quarantine To ask him awkward questions on the way, About the time and place where he had been: He left his ship to be hove down next day. DON JUAN.

  The prize vessel, at the time when she carried away her masts, hadgained considerably to the northward of Ushant, although the master'smate, from his ignorance of his profession, was not aware of the fact.The wind, which now blew strongly from the North West, drove theshattered bark up the Channel, at the same time gradually nearing her tothe French coast. After twenty-four hours' driving before the storm,during which Willy never once awoke from his torpor, the vessel was notmany leagues from the port of Cherbourg. It was broad daylight when ourhero awoke; and after some little time necessary to chase away the vivideffects of a dream, in which he fancied himself to be on shore, walkingin the fields with his dear mother, he recollected where he was, and howhe was situated. He ascended the companion-ladder, and looked aroundhim. The wind had nearly spent its fury, and was subsiding fast; butthe prospect was cheerless--a dark wintry sky and rolling sea, andnothing living in view except the sea-bird that screamed as it skimmedover the white tops of the waves. The mizen of the vessel was stillhoisted up, but the sheet had disengaged itself from the belaying-pin,and the sail had been rent from the bolt-rope by the storm. Part of itwas blown away, and the rest, jagged and tattered at its extremities,from constant buffeting, flapped "mournfully to and fro" with the heavyrolling of the vessel.

  Willy, holding only the companion-hatch, scanned the horizon in everypoint of the compass, in hopes of succour, but for a long while in vain.At last his keen eye detected a small vessel, under a singleclose-reefed sail, now rising on the tops of the waves, now disappearingin the deep trough of the sea. She was sloop-rigged, and running downtowards him.

  In a quarter of an hour she had neared to within a mile, and Willyperceived, with delight, that the people were on deck, and occasionallypointing towards him. He ran down below, and opening the chest of MrBullock, which was not locked, took a liberty which he would never havedared to contemplate during that worthy officer's lifetime, viz., thatof putting forth one of his two best white shirts, reserved for specialoccasions. This he took on deck, made it fast to a boat-hook staff, andhoisted as a signal of distress. He did also mechanically lift his handto his head with the intention of waving his hat, but he was reminded,by not finding it there, that it had been the first votive offeringwhich had been made to appease the implacable deities presiding over thewinds and waves. The vessel closed with him, hove-to to windward, and,after some demur, a small boat, capable of holding three persons, washoisted over the gunnel, and two hands, jumping into her, rowed underthe stern of the wreck.

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

  Willy, who had little fear in his composition, although he could notswim, leaped from the taffrail of the vessel into the boiling surge, andimmediately 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, withoutspeaking, they resumed their oars, and pulled to the other vessel, onboard of which they succeeded in establishing our hero and themselves,although the boat was stove in the attempt, and cast adrift as useless.

  Willy's teeth chattered, and his whole frame trembled with the cold, ashe went aft to the captain of the sloop, who was sitting on deck wrappedup in a rough white great-coat, with his pipe in his mouth. The captainwas a middle-sized, slightly-made young man, apparently not more thantwenty-five years old. His face was oval, with a remarkably pleasingexpression; his eye small and brilliant; and, notwithstanding theroughness of his outward attire, there was a degree of precision in thearrangement of his hair and whiskers, which proved that with himneatness was habitual. He had a worsted mitten on his left hand; theright, 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, andgive him a glass of brandy; when he's all right again, we'll find outfrom him how he happened to be adrift all by himself, like a bear in awashing-tub. There, go along with Phillips, boy."

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

  "We shall soon see what he is made of;" replied the captain, relightinghis pipe, which had been allowed to go out during the time that theywere rescuing Willy and the men from the boat when she returned.

  Willy was soon provided with more comfortable clothing; and whether itwas or was not from a whim of Phillips's, who had been commissioned torig him out, he appeared on deck the very picture of the animal which hehad been compared to by the sailor. Thick woollen stockings, which werelonger than both his legs and thighs, a pair of fisherman's well-greasedboots, a dark Guernsey frock that reached below his knees, and a roughpea-jacket that descended to his heels, made him appear much broaderthan he was high. A red woollen nightcap completed his attire, which,although anything but elegant, was admirably calculated to assist thebrandy in restoring the circulation.

  "Here he is, captain, _all a-tanto_, but not very neat," said Phillips,shoving Willy up the hatchway, for he was so encumbered with the weightof his new apparel that he never could have ascended withoutassistance--"I have stowed away some spirits in his hold, and he nolonger beats the devil's tattoo with his grinders."

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

  Now, it rather unfortunately happened for Willy, that these two firstquestions were rather difficult for him to answer. He told his storywith considerable hesitation--believed his name was Seymour--believed hewas a midshipman. He was listened to without interruption by thecaptain and crew of the vessel, who had gathered round to hear him "spinhis yarn." When he had finished, the captain, looking Willy very hardin the face, thus addressed him:--"My little friend, excuse me, but Ihave some slight knowledge of the world, and I therefore wish that youhad not forgotten the little advice I gave you, as a caution, before youcommenced your narrative. Did not I say _be honest_? You _believe_ youare 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 Ihave no objection to a little invention, or a little caution withstrangers. All that about the battle was very clever; but still, dependupon it honesty's the best policy. When we are better acquainted, Isuppose we shall have the truth from you. I see the land on thelee-bow--we shall be into Cherbourg in an hour, when I expect we shallcome to a better understanding."

  The _Sainte Vierge_, for such was the name of the vessel, which smeltmost insufferably of gin, and, as our readers may probably haveanticipated, was a smuggler, running between Cherbourg and the Englishcoast, soon entered the port, and, having been boarded by the officersof the douane (who made a very proper distinction between smuggling fromand to their own territories) came to an anchor close to the mole. Assoon as the vessel was secured, the captain went below, and in a fewminutes reappearing, dressed in much better taste than one-half of thesaunterers in Bond-street, went on shore to the cabaret where he usuallytook up his quarters, taking with him our hero, whose strange attire, sopeculiarly contrasted with that of the captain's, was a source of greatamusement to the sailors and other people who were assembled on thequay.

  "_Ah, mon capitaine, charme de vous revoir. Buvons un coup, n'est-cepas_?" said th
e proprietor of the cabaret, presenting a bottle of primeFrench brandy, and a liquor glass, to the captain, as he entered.

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

  "_Ca va bien_," replied the captain, throwing the glass of liquor downhis throat. "My apartments, if you please, and a bed for this lad.Tell Mr Beaujou, the slopseller, to come here directly with someclothes for him. Is Captain Debriseau here?"

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

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

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

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

  The landlord of the cabaret ushered the captain of the sloop and ourhero, with many profound bows, into a low dark room, with only onewindow, the light from which was intercepted by a high wall, not fourfeet distant. The floor was paved with tiles, the table was deal, notvery clean, and the whitewashed walls were hung around with stiffdrawings of several smuggling vessels, whose superior sailing andconsequent good fortune had rendered them celebrated in the port ofCherbourg. The straw had been lighted under some logs of wood on thehearth, which as yet emitted more smoke than flame: a few chairs, an oldbattered sofa, and an upright press, completed the furniture.

  "I knew your beautiful sloop long before she came in--there's nomistaking her; and I ordered the apartment _de Monsieur_ to be prepared._C'est un joli apartement, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur_? so retired!" Withsome forbearance, but with great judgment, the beauty of the prospectwas not expatiated upon by the obsequious landlord.

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

  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 betterluck 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 shouldhave doubled him--ay, and have doubled the weight of the leathern bagtoo. _Sacre nom de Dieu_," continued he, grinding his teeth, andpulling a handful of hair out of his rough head, which could have sparedas much as Absalom used to poll--"_Que ca me fait bisquer_."

  "_Bah! Laissez aller, mon ami_--sit down and take a pipe," rejoined ourcaptain. "This is but pettifogging work at the best: it won't pay forthe means of resistance. My lugger will be ready in May, and then I'llsee 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 thewatermark then, and must be nearly ready for launching by this time.I'll pass through the Race but once more; then adieu to dark nights andsouth-west gales--and huzza for a row of teeth, with the will, as wellas 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 ownmeans of livelihood, he did not like to hear disparaged.

  For the benefit of those who have no objection to unite a littleinformation with amusement, I shall here enter into a few remarksrelative to the smuggling carried on between the port of Cherbourg andour own coast,--premising that my readers have my entire approbation toskip over a page or two, if they are not anxious to know anything aboutthese nefarious transactions.

  The port of Cherbourg, from its central situation, is better adaptedthan any other in France for carrying on this trade with the southerncoast of England. The nearest port to it, and at which, therefore, thesmuggling is principally carried on, is the Bill of Portland, near tothe fashionable watering-place of Weymouth.

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

  These vessels are not armed with an intention to resist; if they areperceived by the cruisers or revenue vessels before they arrive on theEnglish coast, and are pursued, they are obliged (if not able to escape,from superior sailing) to throw over their cargo in "deep water," and itis lost. The cargo is thrown overboard to avoid the penalty andimprisonment to which it would subject the crew, as well as theconfiscation of the vessel and cargo. If they reach the English coast,and are chased by the revenue vessels, or have notice by signals fromtheir agents on shore that they are discovered, and cannot land theircargoes, they take the exact bearings and distances of several points ofland, and with heavy stones sink their tubs of spirits, which are alwaysstrung 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 thehawser, and regain possession of their tubs. Such is the precision withwhich their marks are taken, and their dexterity from continualpractice, that they seldom fail to recover their cargo. The profits ofthis contraband trade are so great, that if two cargoes are lost, athird safely landed will indemnify the owners.

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

  The smuggling from Havre and Ostend, etcetera, is confined to the coastof Ireland and the northern shores of England; the cargoes are assortedand of great value; and as the voyage and risk are greater, they aregenerally fast-sailing vessels, well manned and armed, to enable them tooffer resistance, when the disparity of force is not too great on theirside.

  Captain McElvina had taken up the smuggling trade between Cherbourg andPortland to keep himself employed until a fine lugger of sixteen guns,the command of which had been promised to him, and which was intended torun between Havre and the coast of Ireland, should be ready; whereasCaptain 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 hispipe to our hero, who sat on the leathern sofa, rolled up in his uncouthattire; "is it a bear, or a boy?"

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

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

  Had Willy been as learned in mythology as Captain Debriseau, he mighthave informed him that he had served in that capacity in his lastsituation under Mr Bullock; but although the names, as appertaining toa ship, were not unknown to him, yet the attributes of the respectiveparties were a part of his education that old Adams had omitted.

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

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

  "Debriseau, had any other man said half as much, I would have started mygrog 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 afteryou have heard it, I have no doubt but that you will acknowledge, withme, the truth of the old adage, that `Honesty is the best policy.'"

  But Captain McElvina must have a chapter to himself.