The Life of a Celebrated Buccaneer Part 6

"But, sir," cried Dogvane, looking up from the rigging.

"But me, no buts, Master Dogvane, but do as you are told; so down you go."

Dogvane seemed to have lost somewhat of his alacrity, for he took a terrible long time in reaching the deck, and kept up a running accompaniment to his thoughts, which, however, was not loud enough to be heard, and therefore cannot be recorded; though it is safe enough to a.s.sume that so good a man made use of no bad language. Something evidently troubled the old captain's mind, for when the two of them reached the deck, he said, "Master, you must not listen to everything you hear against the great Bandit of the East. People are not all honey behind your back. In the past you have ever been too ready to draw the sword, following the example of those who fight first, and argue afterwards."

"Because, Master Dogvane, experience has taught me that if you thrash your enemy first he is the more amenable to reason."

"That, honoured sir, was all very well in an uncivilized and barbarous age. When the mind was not open to reason, and when the manners had not been softened by Christianity, then the sword was, no doubt, a good major premise; but now, sir, it should never be drawn except through dire necessity. In a just and good cause I am ready to shed my last drop of blood for you."

"n.o.bly said, Dogvane! n.o.bly said!" exclaimed the Buccaneer, as he slapped old Dogvane in an approving manner on the back, thereby nearly knocking all the wind out of his body.

"But, mind you, master," Dogvane said, "I must be a.s.sured that the cause is just. An appeal to arms should only take place when the n.o.ble art of diplomacy has failed. Then, sir, by all manner of means draw the sword."

"Master Dogvane; tell me what is Diplomacy?" asked the Buccaneer.

"Diplomacy, sir, is the polished and courteous method that one nation has of conducting business with another."

"To my mind, Master Dogvane, it is the polished method by which one nation tries very often to overreach another. Strip it of its courtly paraphernalia and you often find this Diplomacy to be a lying, intriguing, cheating, and unprincipled rascal, that every honest man ought to shun. Look you! it has been said that by this self-same Diplomacy I have lost a good deal of what I have won in fair and open fight."

Dogvane sighed over his master's want of enlightenment. But he knew too well that in his present mood he was not to be reasoned with, so what could a poor sailor do? What cannot be cured must be endured. Dogvane felt a.s.sured that everything was to be put down to the fallacious teachings of the Port Watch, and had he not been the pious man that he was he would undoubtedly have d.a.m.ned all their knavish tricks, if nothing else.

The cook, the butcher, and the carpenter, could see that something was amiss by the troubled look upon their captain's face, so they were not at all surprised to hear the bo'sn's whistle pipe the crew of the bold Buccaneer's royal yacht away; to be one of the crew of which was esteemed a great distinction, as it was a sure road to preferment. The cook only hoped the old man, meaning the Buccaneer, was not going to make a fool of himself; but he had his doubts, of course. Had the sagacious and learned Pepper been one of the party to give his master the benefit of his advice it would have been a different matter altogether.

But where is the old c.o.x'sn all this time. Is the Buccaneer going to make his round of calls without his right-hand man?

Good people all, the c.o.x'sn was on sh.o.r.e moving about amongst the people, doing good after his humble fas.h.i.+on, wherever he could. He did not always accompany his master, more is the pity; but the truth must be told. He could not at all times get on with Captain Dogvane, and old Jack Commonsense was not much of a traveller.

CHAPTER XX.

Just as the Buccaneer was about to start upon his round of calls, the snowy white sails of a large s.h.i.+p were to be seen gliding, as it seemed, over the fields that hemmed in his princ.i.p.al river; the hull of the stranger being hidden by a bend. From her mast-head flew a star-spangled banner, and the well-known strains of Yankee Doodle came floating up on the southerly breeze. "Ah!" exclaimed the Buccaneer, "Here comes Jonathan, our cheap-Jack cousin: been home to refit and reload I suppose." Presently a long black hull with a good sheer forward came, as it were, out of the low lying land below the city.

In days long gone by, such a suspicious looking craft would have made the bold Buccaneer beat to quarters, when out would have gone his guns, but times had greatly changed, and pirates of the open and declared type were not to be seen on Western waters. The black flag with death's head and cross-bones is never boldly run up now to the mast-head as in the good brave days of old. It frightens people. So all robberies both on sea and land are done under more respectable looking flags; and very much more genteelly. No walking the plank, no running up to the yard arm. Now a whole crew are sent to the bottom of the sea at a single shot, and there is an end of them.

The stranger finding a comfortable berth, rounded to, as sailors say.

Splash went her anchor, rattle, rattle went her chain. Down came the yards, clewlines and buntlines were well manned, and up went the snowy sails. The nimble seaman scudded up aloft, and rolled up the canvas, and everything was trimmed down, and hauled taught, and his yards squared in proper s.h.i.+p-shape fas.h.i.+on. "Bravo, Jonathan!" cried the Buccaneer.

"Nearly as well done as I could have done it myself. True chip of the old block; eh! Dogvane?"

"Yes, sir: and at driving a bargain, or getting the better of a friend, our Jonathan has not an equal."

Presently a boat impelled by l.u.s.ty arms and hands shot round the stern of the old s.h.i.+p, and brought up alongside, and a tall lanky fellow with a big pack on his back stepped on deck. In an easy tone of familiarity he saluted the old Buccaneer. "Wa'al, old hoss, how are things with you?"

"Pretty well, Jonathan; pretty well," replied the Buccaneer.

"Glad to hear it; heard things wasn't quite O.K. Ever taste O.K.

bitters? No! Wa'al, they would just revive a corpse, O.K. bitters would, you bet. Let us deal," he said as he took his pack off, and began laying his merchandise out on the deck. "I say, Boss, could you make it convenient to have this aire stream of yours widened? It puts me more in mind of one of our drains than anything else."

The old Buccaneer was highly indignant at his princ.i.p.al river being spoken of in such a disrespectful manner, and he replied with much dignity: "My river, Master Jonathan, is good enough for me, and if it is too narrow for other people, they can stay away."

"No offence, Boss, no offence. It does look small after our Mississippi, that would be an eye-opener for you, old hoss. But this ain't business.

Now, here we have a lozenge that will cure anything, from a cough to a broken leg. Here's a pill fit to physic creation. Honest sailor," he said, addressing Dogvane, "try this pill. It will make your hair stand on end. Take a box for the sake of your family. Each pill is worth a pound, let you have a whole box for one s.h.i.+lling and a penny ha'penny.

You have a son, a hopeful boy, give him a pill, if not a pill, try him with this pickle, it will sharpen his understanding and make him a credit to his family. Just you ask who cured Stonewall Jackson?" Dogvane declared he did not want anything; but Jonathan still cried up his wares. "Try this c.o.c.ktail before going to bed, it will make your teeth curl. Talking about teeth; in teeth I guess we're tall. Now here is a set that one of your ecclesiastical big guns has asked G.o.d's blessing on, and they're up a quarter dollar accordingly."

"Jonathan!" the Buccaneer said, "I have long wished to have a little private conversation with you."

"All right, Boss, I thought something was up, chuck it off your chest, whatever it is, it will relieve you."

"I don't think it either neighbourly, or friendly, Jonathan, on your part to harbour people who plot against my life and property."

"What! Have you found out, old hoss, that snakes bite! You've harboured a good deal of vermin in your day, and you can't blame me for doing what you have done yourself. No, Sirree, that c.o.c.k won't fight. Why, you've given an asylum to the cut-throat rascals of every nation under the sun, and when you could not find room for them, you have sent them over to me."

"I have only given an asylum, Jonathan, to the oppressed."

"That is only one way of looking at it, Boss. Too fine a name for a fellow with a bowie knife up his sleeve, and a six-shooter in his pocket; if he cries 'hands up,' old man, where are you? But this ain't business, honest sailor," here he again addressed Dogvane. "Buy this baby jumper for the missis. It will rock your child to sleep, wake it in the morning, wash it, dress it, slap it and feed it, and all for a few dollars. You have a son? No father of a family should be without this article." Then turning to the Buccaneer he said, "I reckon my gals are leaving your gals standing. They are just taking away all the cream of your men. Now, here's a notion, that may be will mend matters, try a cargo of these patent palpitating bosoms. They are warranted to go; they are as natural as life, and ever so much more convenient, for they can be taken off at night and put on in the morning. They never increase, and not like some cheap kind of article, you never see them under the shoulder, at the back, instead of in their proper places in front; buy a pair on trial."

"Stay, Master Jonathan, let us settle one thing at a time. Is it right for you to let the Ojabberaways hatch their infernal plots against me in your country?"

"Look here, old hoss, the Ojabberaways are blowers; then let them blow.

It satisfies the darned skunks, and it don't hurt you. It aint safe in these high pressure times to sit upon your safety-valve. Let 'em blow off."

"I don't mind their blowing off, Jonathan; but I object to the skunks, as you call them, blowing up. As for blowing off; why, my parks and public places, are regular blow-holes, where democrats, demagogues, socialists, and blasphemers may, and do, howl themselves hoa.r.s.e."

"It don't seem to me, old hoss, that you are altogether boss of your show. You are trying to run your ryal car on a democratic gauge, and you'll either run off the track or you'll bust your biler. But this ain't business, won't you buy? Honest sailor, here's a knife that will lick creation; and here's a watch--I reckon we are pretty big in watches. This child of nature is just leaving the rest of the world standing." Jonathan seeing that he could do no business, said, as he packed up his things: "Trade does seem dull; but I'll just look round sh.o.r.e. This island of yours is so darned small, and your cliffs are so high, that it is dangerous to walk after nightfall. You should just come over to our side of the water; you'd see something like a patch of land, you bet." Jonathan went forward to see if he could do any business amongst the crew. The carpenter wanted to deal with him in nails; then the cook wanted to clear out the Buccaneer's lumber-room; and the packman said that for a duke or two, or a couple of lords he would spring some dollars; for that he had none in his country, and accordingly they were very highly esteemed. He did love a lord. Then he wanted to exchange a dozen brow-beating barristers for one incorruptible judge; but the cook, the carpenter, and Billy Cheeks, the butcher, all said, that of brow-beating barristers, their old man had enough and to spare, and they could not part with any of their judges. As the cheap-Jack went over the s.h.i.+p's side, he said he had, he feared, mistaken the lat.i.tude and longitude, for he thought by the way things were going, he must be in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem. When he got ash.o.r.e he had still greater reason for thinking this, for the Hebrew element was so strong that he declared there was little chance of an honest man getting a living. Many of the Jews tried to modernize their names, but do what they would, they could not change their natures.

Just as Jonathan, the packman, was stepping into his boat, the cook looked through one of the port-holes and asked him if he had any need for the Buccaneer's lion. Jonathan said he thought the animal was not sound, but the cook declared that he was; only a little out of wind, having done a good deal of roaring in his day. Jonathan offered in exchange a skunk, which he declared was a most useful and valuable animal, respected alike by friends and enemies; but they could not deal.

Soon the voice of the cheap-Jack was heard mingling with the others on sh.o.r.e. The Ojabberaways, though they bought little, and sold still less, received a good many of Jonathan's almighty dollars, and as long as they lasted they were likely enough to love him and be friends.

CHAPTER XXI.

The clack, clack of a windla.s.s was heard one fine morning sounding over the waters of the river that hurried by the Buccaneer's chief city.

Alas! the merry songs of his seamen, as they hove in the slack of their chains was no longer to be heard. Their cheering "Yo, heave ho!" was but a faint memory of the past. No cloud of sails was spread to catch the breath of the north wind; but the vessel moved stealthily down the river, leaving behind her a muddy wake and above a long winding black serpent of smoke.

Great changes had come over this old Buccaneer. Neither he, nor his s.h.i.+ps were anything like what they were in the good old past. The past that we are always looking back to with such loving and longing eyes.

Those huge wooden castles that had borne his flag to so many victories had been towed long ago to their last moorings. But ah! things change, and mountains even, if not moved by faith, are constantly being altered by that persistent worker, time. People looked back with regret to those grand old wooden walls, with their tier upon tier of guns; but it was all in vain. Science had condemned them. Amidst all the change that was constantly going on, there was one thing on board of the old s.h.i.+p of State that bound the Buccaneer to the past. She was still impelled by wind, and consequently was not a rapid sailer. The Church Hulk alongside her, was also propelled in a similar manner, but considering the gales of wind that sometimes swept her decks she was a slow mover.

Away went the Buccaneer in his steam yacht, old Dogvane, of course, being at the helm. The c.o.x'sn, however, for reasons already mentioned, was left behind. The captain's face did not wear an expression of happiness, but then he was one of those who take their pleasures seriously, and sometimes even in a melancholy manner; and often when he looked his saddest he was enjoying himself most. To judge from appearances, people might be pardoned if they thought that he and his master were bent upon some mournful errand, such as the burying of some dear departed friend.

But to return to the wonder-stricken people who lined the sh.o.r.e. Many were the questions asked and many were the answers given. Though our brave old Buccaneer hated anything secret, more especially in other people, yet he himself conducted all his public affairs by a secret council; being driven to do so, perhaps, by necessity. Then the reason for this sudden and somewhat mysterious departure was left open to all kinds of conjecture, some saying one thing, some another.

"What is in the wind now?" asked one. "Is the old man steering for peace or for war?"