The Life of a Celebrated Buccaneer Part 7

"Ah!" cried another, "perhaps his spirit is at last aroused. Heaven only knows he has slept long enough!"

"The barking of curs, my lads," said a third, "does not disturb the slumber or the dignity of a bull-dog. Fighting, mates, it may be; for those who won't fight will fall."

The young hands looked hopeful and the hot blood mounted to their cheeks, for they had heard and read of fights by sea and land, and of the doughty deeds done by their forefathers, and they longed, too, for the fray. There was life in these young sea whelps yet. It was said that the wanton, Luxury, had touched them gently with the velvet tips of her fingers, but so far she had not taken away their manhood and put them to lie on downy beds scented with the perfume of flowers. No, no, she had not gone as far as that, and though the Buccaneer's women, some of them, had become masculine, his men had not surrendered up their position to them just yet.

The young expressed their hopes, the old men shook their heads. The Ojabberaways were wild with delight, and hoped that their tyrant master, as they called him, would get so embroiled that they might have a chance of shaking themselves free. Then, as many thought, there would be merry times indeed for those who lived in the green and fertile isle of the West.

The Ojabberaways now behaved themselves in a manner so peculiarly their own, that there was every prospect of a free fight. The leaders, or paid patriots as they were called, took up a strong position, behind whatever natural objects presented themselves, and from these points of vantage they commenced pelting their opponents with strong personal abuse. Of this they always kept a large supply ready on hand. Wise counsels prevailed, and the blood of the young Buccaneers was cooled down, and so a row was avoided and all attention was again directed to the head of the family and his doings. "Mates!" cried one st.u.r.dy fellow, "it's not for fighting he has gone with Captain William Dogvane on board. More likely he has gone to beg some person's pardon for some idle words spoken, or may be he's gone to hand over some patch of land that we got in fair and open fight. But let that pa.s.s, conscience becomes tender as a man grows old."

Here a square built old sailor with a patch over his left eye, and who was minus an arm and a leg cried out, "Who would spill his blood and stand the chance of being knocked on the head, if he thought that all he got in fair and open fight was to be given back, because a tender conscience pules and whines. Look at me, mates! The glim of one of my skylights is dousted, and is battened down for ever. My timber too I've lost, and have I been lopped of my branches for nothing? All, forsooth, because an old man's conscience p.r.i.c.ks. Damme, lads! there's no justice in the like o' that. Do our neighbours give up what they have grabbed?

not they; more likely to put the pistol to your head, as in days of old, and cry out, 'Stand and deliver?' That's the way of the world, mates, and we must not set up to be better than other folk. Haven't I a vested interest in the old man's conquests to the extent of one arm, a leg and an eye? Then damme, make all fast, say I!"

Another said, "The old Buccaneer is more fitted now to carry the staff of a pilgrim than the pistol and cutla.s.s of a pirate."

"Vast heaving, my mates," cried a voice from the crowd, "no hard names if you please. Our master's buccaneering days are over, and there is something so unsavoury about the name of a pirate, lads, that the word is now never used in good society. As to whether any little bit of business in that way is done on the sly, it is not for us to say. The wise man's eye is not always open; but his mouth, my hearties, is generally shut, so let us wait and see what comes of our master's peregrination." This was all that the old c.o.xswain contributed at this particular part of the proceedings.

The Port Watch said there was no remedy for anything, but a s.h.i.+ft of watches. Some even advocated a sudden raid on the old s.h.i.+p, and by taking her by surprise to effect their purpose. Random Jack was for doing this, and he declared his readiness to lead the a.s.sault, and his courage was very much applauded, and not at all doubted. He was becoming a great favourite amongst the people, who had still so much of the old stuff left in them that they could appreciate pluck in any one. Just as they were going to put their plan to the trial, a soft sound of music came over the water. Music, it is known, has charms to soothe. Some uncovered their heads reverently for they thought it was the evening song coming from the old Church Hulk; but they were all very much disappointed when they found out that it was only the cook accompanying himself on his barrel organ to a hymn strung to his own praise.

This showed that the watch were not asleep. At the same time a spark, as bright as a diamond, rested, as it were, on the bulwark of the old s.h.i.+p of State. This was caused by the rays of the setting sun impinging upon the gla.s.s eye of the carpenter. The burly butcher, fly flapper in hand, all ready for action, could also be seen. This made Random Jack thoughtful. Random Jack remembered the butcher's instrument of torture and he rubbed a part that had been more than once affected, and as he did so, he said that in his opinion things were not quite ripe for action, so the a.s.sault fell through, and the old s.h.i.+p was allowed to ride peacefully at anchor. Hereupon the old c.o.xswain took the opportunity of delivering an oration. "Mates!" he said, "let us do nothing rashly. Hasty actions often require much time for repentance.

If so be that you can s.h.i.+ft watches by fair means, do so; but give old Bill Dogvane a fair chance. He is an old hand, and an able steersman, and he has weathered many a storm." There was now a great outcry against the c.o.xswain; he was called a traitor; a follower of Bill's; a carpet bag full of old wives' sayings; a bladder full of wind and such like things; one who, if he was struck on one cheek, would turn the other.

All this abuse got old Jack Commonsense's back up, as the saying is, and whipping out an oath or two, he exclaimed: "Damme mates! I hope as how I am as good a Christian as the best of you, and as ready as any of you to do my duty to my G.o.d and my neighbour; but the man who strikes me, damme! I strike him back, or my name is not Jack Commonsense. Look you now: do you think if any of you bl.u.s.tering, railing lubbers, were to board the old Church Hulk there and strike, say, the High Priest on one cheek, that he would straightway turn the other? If you think so, go and try the experiment; I, for one, ain't agoing to. Mates! have we ever fought our enemies, that our clergy, G.o.d bless them! did not bless us, and pray for us? And while we fought with sword and pistol did they not fight for us with their spiritual weapons? Example, my mates, is the best precept, and our Church has never yet taught us in that way that fighting is wrong; or that too much meekness, except from outsiders, is to be very highly commended." When the old c.o.xswain got upon his legs it was hard to get him down and every stump was to him a pulpit. He continued, "G.o.d forbid! that I should be a bully, going about the world seeking quarrels with the weak; but G.o.d grant, my lads, that I maybe ever ready to lead you all on against the attacks of the strong, who threaten us, and a young woman as I keep company with will be well to the fore, and if you are not found ready to follow old Jack and the beggar woman, then, my lads, make ready your necks for the yoke of the foreign invader. And it is old Jack Commonsense that says so."

CHAPTER XXII.

We are in these degenerate days singularly unfortunate in many ways. Our means of excitement are nothing like what they used to be. The Buccaneer's island was no exception to the general rule. Indeed time seems to have handled him very roughly. Not that he was altogether free from surprises. Occasionally an idiot obtained possession of a pistol, and either tried to commit or did commit a murder. Then at times a man was knocked down, kicked and robbed, whilst the mighty house-breaker prowled about with pistol and crowbar in search of plunder. It is also true that the Ojabberaways did all they could in the way of providing excitement of a lively nature for the benefit of the old Buccaneer and all his people; but gone were his highwaymen. The vulgar thief alone remained. A mutiny at sea, with the murder of a crew, was a thing of the past. Yet we have to relate a dark conspiracy, which will be for ever known as the Cabal of the Cook's Caboose, and which might have been productive of the gravest results. Mention has already been made of a slight defection amongst a certain section of the crew.

It was past eight bells, and the midnight watch had been set sufficiently long to allow all the look-out men to take up their positions of repose. Not a sound was to be heard upon the old s.h.i.+p of State except the heavy breathing of the watchman aloft and the monotonous tread of the look-out man aft, who had not as yet secured a comfortable place to pa.s.s his watch in. The Church Hulk was wrapped in a deep sleep and the Buccaneer's Chief Priest, with all his ecclesiastical big guns, minor canons, able priests, and ordinary deacons, were fondly locked in slumber's arms. They kept no visible look-out, but angels with their silver wings, it was firmly believed by all devout Buccaneers, hovered over that old s.h.i.+p at night and kept the devil and all his minions away. It was only when the dusky mantle of midnight rested upon the island that silence ever reigned supreme upon that old Church Hulk.

The look-out man on deck hailed the look-out man aloft. "What, ho there!" he cried. "Watchman! what of the night?" The man up aloft had evidently been deeply meditating, for something very like a yawn broke the stillness of the air, but presently a voice came down laden with the words: "All's well! The twinkling eyes of Heaven look down upon a world wrapped in peaceful slumber. All's well!"

"All's well," went up from below in reply, and again there was a great stillness. The eyes of all the houses on sh.o.r.e except one here and there which sat watching for the setting out of some poor weary soul to the regions that lie beyond the grave, were out. The dog that generally breaks the stillness of the night on such occasions was also silent; probably asleep. The wind even had folded her wings and had ceased to sing her lullaby to the accompaniment of her many stringed lute.

Presently a crouching form was to be seen creeping stealthily under the starboard side of the old s.h.i.+p of State. The suspicious looking object who was enveloped in the dark cloak and slouched hat usually worn by conspirators and hired no doubt for the occasion, made for the cook's galley, and in a voice scarcely above a whisper, exclaimed: "Pepper!"

"Is that you, Chips?" came from the caboose.

"The same," was the reply.

"Where are the rest?" asked the cook.

"They will be here directly," the carpenter said, as he darted into the galley. Scarcely had he got well inside than his mate joined him, and shortly afterwards the burly form of Billy Cheeks, the butcher, was seen trying to conceal himself under the bulwarks. "Keep down, can't you?"

cried the cook. "You'll have the look-out man see you."

"Can't help it if he does; can't make myself any smaller than nature made me," replied the butcher. "If I was as small as you, or a ringbolt chaser like Chips, I might be able to do it." This was sarcasm. The butcher loved sarcasm; but the cheery cook turned it off by saying that Chips, and Chisel, his mate, must spokeshave Billy Cheeks down to the ordinary and usual size of a conspirator. As the butcher did not see anything funny in this he did not laugh; and so the joke fell like a dead sh.e.l.l, quite harmless. But the cook, the carpenter, and his mate said that Billy Cheeks was far too big for a conspirator.

All was pitch dark inside the cook's caboose. The fire had long since been out, and it would not have been safe to strike a light. No doubt they had their dark lanterns, for conspirators would not be fully equipped without them, but for some reason best known to themselves, they did not for the present produce them.

"Your programme!" cried the butcher, who generally came at once to the point.

"Listen, my lads, and you shall hear," exclaimed the carpenter. "The old man being away and the captain with him, we must make this the high tide of our prosperity, and carry out as pretty a little scheme as ever entered the head of man, although I say it, as should not. The old c.o.xswain is ash.o.r.e amongst the landlubbers, so we have nothing to fear from him. For the rest of the crew on board belonging to our watch, well, if they will not join us, why, Billy, my man, you must do your duty. First and foremost we must lighten s.h.i.+p."

"That is easily done," said the cook, "by flinging overboard bodily the old man's Upper Chamber." It is wonderful what a hatred the cook had for this room in the after part of the old s.h.i.+p. He himself said it was on account of their ignorance, want of intelligence, cla.s.s prejudice, and the airs and graces they gave themselves.

"As you all know, my mates," continued the carpenter, "things ain't as they ought to be on board this old craft; she is much too slow for the times. When a coat becomes too old to wear, what do we do? why, chuck it away."

The jolly little cook now had his say. "Without a doubt the old s.h.i.+p is too bluff bowed for the rapid times we live in, and is more fit to drive piles than to make way against the swift current of events. So, my lads, I am for seizing the s.h.i.+p, and my little game--"

"What is that?" cried the butcher, as he laid his trembling hand upon the carpenter's arm.

"What is what?" exclaimed the carpenter, slightly startled. "Can't you give Pepper time to explain himself. Hurry no man's cattle, is an old and good proverb."

"I heard a noise outside, as if someone was moving," said the butcher.

"Then take a look round, Billy," said the carpenter.

"I am too big," said the butcher, with a sneer, which was felt, though on account of the darkness it was not seen. "Let Pepper go; he is the smallest; no one will see him, and if they do they will take no notice."

This was veiled sarcasm, but the cook thought it better not to notice it, because he knew the butcher could not help it.

"Let every man stick to his trade," said the cook, "my place is inside the galley and not out."

Then up spoke the doughty carpenter. "What, my lads! is quaking fear going to be present at our councils? Look at me. I am not afraid." As it was pitch dark, of course n.o.body could see. "Chisel, my lad," he said, addressing his mate, "show these fellows the stuff you are made of."

"And why should I do what others won't?" replied Chisel. "It is no more my business than it is the cook's, and every man to his trade, say I, too."

"Why don't you take a look round yourself?" cried the butcher.

"Of course I will. Thus!" exclaimed the carpenter, "does conscience make cowards of ye all." Having delivered himself of the quotation, he took a hasty glance through the little square hole that acted as a window in the back part of the galley, and said there was nothing. "I knew that,"

said the cook. "That is why I did not take the trouble to look; but this is a grievous waste of precious time." "Well, my lads," the carpenter continued, ignoring the fact that the cook was, as the saying is, in possession of the house, or rather, galley. "First and foremost we must seize this old craft, run her ash.o.r.e, break her up, and build a spic and span new one, upon entirely new lines. We will take a hint here and a hint there. In such a thing our friend Jonathan would not be a bad man to go by. Then we will board the old s.h.i.+p alongside, and make her disgorge, for the general good, some of her acc.u.mulated plunder. She is worth a pretty plum I can tell you. Been h.o.a.rding up for ages, and yet she is always crying out poverty. Bah! there must be something wrong somewhere, or where does all the money go? She does not apparently give too much of it amongst the poorer part of her crew; but as she renders no accounts we are all in the dark, my lads. It is a busy buzzing hive of drones, though."

"As you say, Master Chips," said the cook. "She does not seem to give much of her stored up wealth to her poor brethren, and Heaven knows that the priestly gabardine too often covers an empty stomach, while others amongst them lead the lives of a Dives. Does poverty and penury find clothing or food out of her riches? Not a bit of it. Too many of her crew, are they not proud? Have they not made an exclusive and an aristocratic high-cast priesthood of themselves?"

"So wags the world, my mates; so wags the world," cried the carpenter.

"While one suffers from repletion, another starves. But that old Hulk is now out of date, and she will cut up well you may be sure. Having plundered her, and given every ecclesiastical dog a bone--no offence to the sacred calling--we will bore a hole in her and let her sink. Then, when we are well across the bridge that connects her with this old craft, Chisel, my mate, shall saw the bridge through, and thus lay a trap for the rats; let them either sink or swim."

"Rats, they say," remarked the cook, as he handled his three-p.r.o.nged toasting-fork, "always leave a sinking s.h.i.+p, and the ecclesiastical rat will prove, I expect, no exception to the rule."

"Honest Pepper!" cried the carpenter, "you speak, as you always do, like a book."

"I've some doubt on my mind, which I should like cleared up before we go any further," said the butcher.

"Out with it, Billy, my man, out with it," exclaimed the carpenter.

"Your chest is big, but no doubt it will be the better for being lightened, and an empty house is better than a bad tenant, any day of the week."

"Well, you talked about running this craft ash.o.r.e, and then turning your attention to the Church Hulk; but if you do that, what is the use of sawing the bridge in two. The bridge would be the plank we should have to walk; with nothing but a drop of some fathoms deep into the pit we had dug for ourselves."