The Collected Works of Jules Verne: 36 Novels and Short Stories (Unexpurgated Edition) (Halcyon Classics)

by Jules Verne

  When he had reached the Captain, he looked fixedly at him, and said, "Captain James Playfair?"

  "The same," replied the skipper. "What do you want with me?"

  "To join your ship."

  "There is no room; the crew is already complete."

  "Oh, one man, more or less, will not be in the way; quite the contrary."

  "You think so?" said James Playfair, giving a sidelong glance at his questioner.

  "I am sure of it," replied the sailor.

  "But who are you?" asked the Captain.

  "A rough sailor, with two strong arms, which, I can tell you, are not to be despised on board a ship, and which I now have the honour of putting at your service."

  "But there are other ships besides the Dolphin, and other captains besides James Playfair. Why do you come here?"

  "Because it is on board the Dolphin that I wish to serve, and under the orders of Captain James Playfair."

  "I do not want you."

  "There is always need of a strong man, and if to prove my strength you will try me with three or four of the strongest fellows of your crew, I am ready."

  "That will do," replied James Playfair. "And what is your name?"

  "Crockston, at your service."

  The Captain made a few steps backwards in order to get a better view of the giant who presented himself in this odd fashion. The height, the build, and the look of the sailor did not deny his pretensions to strength.

  "Where have you sailed?" asked Playfair of him.

  "A little everywhere."

  "And do you know where the Dolphin is bound for?"

  "Yes; and that is what tempts me."

  "Ah, well! I have no mind to let a fellow of your stamp escape me. Go and find the first mate, and get him to enrol you."

  Having said this, the Captain expected to see the man turn on his heels and run to the bows, but he was mistaken. Crockston did not stir.

  "Well! did you hear me?" asked the Captain.

  "Yes, but it is not all," replied the sailor. "I have something else to ask you."

  "Ah! You are wasting my time," replied James, sharply; "I have not a moment to lose in talking."

  "I shall not keep you long," replied Crockston; "two words more and that is all; I was going to tell you that I have a nephew."

  "He has a fine uncle, then," interrupted James Playfair.

  "Hah! Hah!" laughed Crockston.

  "Have you finished?" asked the Captain, very impatiently.

  "Well, this is what I have to say, when one takes the uncle, the nephew comes into the bargain."

  "Ah! indeed!"

  "Yes, that is the custom, the one does not go without the other."

  "And what is this nephew of yours?"

  "A lad of fifteen whom I am going to train to the sea; he is willing to learn, and will make a fine sailor some day."

  "How now, Master Crockston," cried James Playfair; "do you think the Dolphin is a training-school for cabin-boys?"

  "Don’t let us speak ill of cabin-boys: there was one of them who became Admiral Nelson, and another Admiral Franklin."

  "Upon my honour, friend," replied James Playfair, "you have a way of speaking which I like; bring your nephew, but if I don’t find the uncle the hearty fellow he pretends to be, he will have some business with me. Go, and be back in an hour."

  Crockston did not want to be told twice; be bowed awkwardly to the Captain of the Dolphin, and went on to the quay. An hour afterwards he came on board with his nephew, a boy of fourteen or fifteen, rather delicate and weakly looking, with a timid and astonished air, which showed that he did not possess his uncle’s self-possession and vigorous corporeal qualities. Crockston was even obliged to encourage him by such words as these:

  "Come," said he, "don’t be frightened, they are not going to eat us, besides, there is yet time to return."

  "No, no," replied the young man, "and may God protect us!"

  The same day the sailor Crockston and his nephew were inscribed in the muster-roll of the Dolphin.

  The next morning, at five o’clock, the fires of the steamer were well fed, the deck trembled under the vibrations of the boiler, and the steam rushed hissing through the escape-pipes. The hour of departure had arrived.

  A considerable crowd, in spite of the early hour, flocked on the quays and on Glasgow Bridge; they had come to salute the bold steamer for the last time. Vincent Playfair was there to say good-bye to Captain James, but he conducted himself on this occasion like a Roman of the good old times. His was a heroic countenance, and the two loud kisses with which he gratified his nephew were the indication of a strong mind.

  "Go, James," said he to the young Captain, "go quickly, and come back quicker still; above all, don’t abuse your position. Sell at a good price, make a good bargain, and you will have your uncle’s esteem."

  On this recommendation, borrowed from the manual of the perfect merchant, the uncle and nephew separated, and all the visitors left the boat.

  At this moment Crockston and John Stiggs stood together on the forecastle, while the former remarked to his nephew, "This is well, this is well; before two o’clock we shall be at sea, and I have a good opinion of a voyage which begins like this."

  For reply the novice pressed Crockston’s hand.

  James Playfair then gave the orders for departure.

  "Have we pressure on?" he asked of his mate.

  "Yes, Captain," replied Mr. Mathew.

  "Well, then, weigh anchor."

  This was immediately done, and the screws began to move. The Dolphin trembled, passed between the ships in the port, and soon disappeared from the sight of the people, who shouted their last hurrahs.

  The descent of the Clyde was easily accomplished, one might almost say that this river had been made by the hand of man, and even by the hand of a master. For sixty years, thanks to the dredges and constant dragging, it has gained fifteen feet in depth, and its breadth has been tripled between the quays and the town. Soon the forests of masts and chimneys were lost in the smoke and fog; the noise of the foundry hammers and the hatchets of the timber-yards grew fainter in the distance. After the village of Partick had been passed the factories gave way to country houses and villas. The Dolphin, slackening her speed, sailed between the dykes which carry the river above the shores, and often through a very narrow channel, which, however, is only a small inconvenience for a navigable river, for, after all, depth is of more importance than width. The steamer, guided by one of those excellent pilots from the Irish sea, passed without hesitation between floating buoys, stone columns, and biggings, surmounted with lighthouses, which mark the entrance to the channel. Beyond the town of Renfrew, at the foot of Kilpatrick hills, the Clyde grew wider. Then came Bouling Bay, at the end of which opens the mouth of the canal which joints Edinburgh to Glasgow. Lastly, at the height of four hundred feet from the ground, was seen the outline of Dumbarton Castle, almost indiscernible through the mists, and soon the harbour-boats of Glasgow were rocked on the waves which the Dolphin caused. Some miles farther on Greenock, the birthplace of James Watt, was passed: the Dolphin now found herself at the mouth of the Clyde, and at the entrance of the gulf by which it empties its waters into the Northern Ocean. Here the first undulations of the sea were felt, and the steamer ranged along the picturesque coast of the Isle of Arran. At last the promontory of Cantyre, which runs out into the channel, was doubled; the Isle of Rattelin was hailed, the pilot returned by a shore-boat to his cutter, which was cruising in the open sea; the Dolphin, returning to her Captain’s authority, took a less frequented route round the north of Ireland, and soon, having lost sight of the last European land, found herself in the open ocean.

  Chapter III

  THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM

  The Dolphin had a good crew, not fighting men, or boarding sailors, but good working men, and that was all she wanted. These brave, determined fellows were all, more or less, merchants; they sought a fortune rather than glory; they had no flag to d
isplay, no colours to defend with cannon; in fact, all the artillery on board consisted of two small swivel signal-guns.

  The Dolphin shot bravely across the water, and fulfilled the utmost expectations of both builder and captain. Soon she passed the limit of British seas; there was not a ship in sight; the great ocean route was free; besides, no ship of the Federal marine would have a right to attack her beneath the English flag. Followed she might be, and prevented from forcing the blockade, and precisely for this reason had James Playfair sacrificed everything to the speed of his ship, in order not to be pursued.

  Howbeit a careful watch was kept on board, and, in spite of the extreme cold, a man was always in the rigging ready to signal the smallest sail that appeared on the horizon. When evening came, Captain James gave the most precise orders to Mr. Mathew.

  "Don’t leave the man on watch too long in the rigging; the cold may seize him, and in that case it is impossible to keep a good look-out; change your men often."

  "I understand, Captain," replied Mr. Mathew.

  "Try Crockston for that work; the fellow pretends to have excellent sight; it must be put to trial; put him on the morning watch, he will have the morning mists to see through. If anything particular happens call me."

  This said, James Playfair went to his cabin. Mr. Mathew called Crockston, and told him the Captain’s orders.

  "To-morrow, at six o’clock," said he, "you are to relieve watch of the main masthead."

  For reply, Crockston gave a decided grunt, but Mr. Mathew had hardly turned his back when the sailor muttered some incomprehensible words, and then cried:

  "What on earth did he say about the mainmast?"

  At this moment his nephew, John Stiggs, joined him on the forecastle.

  "Well, my good Crockston," said he.

  "It’s all right, all right," said the seaman, with a forced smile; "there is only one thing, this wretched boat shakes herself like a dog coming out of the water, and it makes my head confused."

  "Dear Crockston, and it is for my sake."

  "For you and him," replied Crockston, "but not a word about that, John. Trust in God, and He will not forsake you."

  So saying, John Stiggs and Crockston went to the sailor’s berth, but the sailor did not lie down before he had seen the young novice comfortably settled in the narrow cabin which he had got for him.

  The next day, at six o’clock in the morning, Crockston got up to go to his place; he went on deck, where the first officer ordered him to go up into the rigging, and keep good watch.

  At these words the sailor seemed undecided what to do; then, making up his mind, he went towards the bows of the Dolphin.

  "Well, where are you off to now?" cried Mr. Mathew.

  "Where you sent me," answered Crockston.

  "I told you to go to the mainmast."

  "And I am going there," replied the sailor, in an ununconcerned tone, continuing his way to the poop.

  "Are you a fool?" cried Mr. Mathew, impatiently; "you are looking for the bars of the main on the foremast. You are like a cockney, who doesn’t know how to twist a cat-o’-nine-tails, or make a splice. On board what ship can you have been, man? The mainmast, stupid, the mainmast!"

  The sailors who had run up to hear what was going on burst out laughing when they saw Crockston’s disconcerted look, as he went back to the forecastle.

  "So," said he, looking up the mast, the top of which was quite invisible through the morning mists; "so, am I to climb up here?"

  "Yes," replied Mr. Mathew, "and hurry yourself! By St. Patrick, a Federal ship would have time to get her bowsprit fast in our rigging before that lazy fellow could get to his post. Will you go up?"

  Without a word, Crockston got on the bulwarks with some difficulty; then he began to climb the rigging with most visible awkwardness, like a man who did not know how to make use of his hands or feet. When he had reached the topgallant, instead of springing lightly on to it, he remained motionless, clinging to the ropes, as if he had been seized with giddiness. Mr. Mathew, irritated by his stupidity, ordered him to come down immediately.

  "That fellow there," said he to the boatswain, "has never been a sailor in his life. Johnston, just go and see what he has in his bundle."

  The boatswain made haste to the sailor’s berth.

  In the meantime Crockston was with difficulty coming down again, but, his foot having slipped, he slid down the rope he had hold of, and fell heavily on the deck.

  "Clumsy blockhead! land-lubber!" cried Mr. Mathew, by way of consolation. "What did you come to do on board the Dolphin! Ah! you entered as an able seaman, and you cannot even distinguish the main from the foremast! I shall have a little talk with you."

  Crockston made no attempt to speak; he bent his back like a man resigned to anything he might have to bear; just then the boatswain returned.

  "This," said he to the first officer, "is all that I have found; a suspicious portfolio with letters."

  "Give them here," said Mr. Mathew. "Letters with Federal stamps! Mr. Halliburtt, of Boston! An Abolitionist! a Federalist! Wretch! you are nothing but a traitor, and have sneaked on board to betray us! Never mind, you will be paid for your trouble with the cat-o’-nine-tails! Boatswain, call the Captain, and you others just keep an eye on that rogue there."

  Crockston received these compliments with a hideous grimace, but he did not open his lips. They had fastened him to the capstan, and he could move neither hand nor foot.

  A few minutes later James Playfair came out of his cabin and went to the forecastle, where Mr. Mathew immediately acquainted him with the details of the case.

  "What have you to say?" asked James Playfair, scarcely able to restrain his anger.

  "Nothing," replied Crockston.

  "And what did you come on board my ship for?"

  "Nothing."

  "And what do you expect from me now?"

  "Nothing."

  "Who are you? An American, as letters seem to prove?" Crockston did not answer.

  "Boatswain," said James Playfair, "fifty lashes with the cat-o’-nine-tails to loosen his tongue. Will that be enough, Crockston?"

  "It will remain to be seen," replied John Stiggs’ uncle without moving a muscle.

  "Now then, come along, men," said the boatswain.

  At this order, two strong sailors stripped Crockston of his woollen jersey; they had already seized the formidable weapon, and laid it across the prisoner’s shoulders, when the novice, John Stiggs, pale and agitated, hurried on deck.

  "Captain!" exclaimed he.

  "Ah! the nephew!" remarked James Playfair.

  "Captain," repeated the novice, with a violent effort to steady his voice, "I will tell you what Crockston does not want to say. I will hide it no longer; yes, he is American, and so am I; we are both enemies of the slave-holders, but not traitors come on board to betray the Dolphin into the hands of the Federalists."

  "What did you come to do, then?" asked the Captain, in a severe tone, examining the novice attentively. The latter hesitated a few seconds before replying, then he said, "Captain, I should like to speak to you in private."

  Whilst John Stiggs made this request, James Playfair did not cease to look carefully at him; the sweet young face of the novice, his peculiarly gentle voice, the delicacy and whiteness of his hands, hardly disguised by paint, the large eyes, the animation of which could not bide their tenderness — all this together gave rise to a certain suspicion in the Captain’s mind. When John Stiggs had made his request, Playfair glanced fixedly at Crockston, who shrugged his shoulders; then he fastened a questioning look on the novice, which the latter could not withstand, and said simply to him, "Come."

  John Stiggs followed the Captain on to the poop, and then James Playfair, opening the door of his cabin, said to the novice, whose cheeks were pale with emotion, "Be so kind as to walk in, miss."

  John, thus addressed, blushed violently, and two tears rolled involuntarily down his cheeks.

  "Don’t be alarmed
, miss," said James Playfair, in a gentle voice, "but be so good as to tell me how I come to have the honour of having you on board?"

  The young girl hesitated a moment, then, reassured by the Captain’s look, she made up her mind to speak.

  "Sir," said she, "I wanted to join my father at Charleston; the town is besieged by land and blockaded by sea. I knew not how to get there, when I heard that the Dolphin meant to force the blockade. I came on board your ship, and I beg you to forgive me if I acted without your consent, which you would have refused me."

  "Certainly," said James Playfair.

  "I did well, then, not to ask you," resumed the young girl, with a firmer voice.

  The Captain crossed his arms, walked round his cabin, and then came back.

  "What is your name?" said he.

  "Jenny Halliburtt."

  "Your father, if I remember rightly the address on the letters, is he not from Boston?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And a Northerner is thus in a southern town in the thickest of the war?"

  "My father is a prisoner; he was at Charleston when the first shot of the Civil War was fired, and the troops of the Union driven from Fort Sumter by the Confederates. My father’s opinions exposed him to the hatred of the slavist part, and by the order of General Beauregard he was imprisoned. I was then in England, living with a relation who has just died, and left alone, with no help but that of Crockston, our faithful servant, I wished to go to my father and share his prison with him."

  "What was Mr. Halliburtt, then?" asked James Playfair.

  "A loyal and brave journalist," replied Jenny proudly, one of the noblest editors of the Tribune, and the one who was the boldest in defending the cause of the negroes."

  "An Abolitionist," cried the Captain angrily; "one of those men who, under the vain pretence of abolishing slavery, have deluged their country with blood and ruin."

  "Sir!" replied Jenny Halliburtt, growing pale, "you are insulting my father; you must not forget that I stand alone to defend him."

  The young Captain blushed scarlet; anger mingled with shame struggled in his breast; perhaps he would have answered the young girl, but he succeeded in restraining himself, and, opening the door of the cabin, he called "Boatswain!"