CHAPTER XX. A SAD HOME-COMING
Mr. Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, the Dumfries bo'sun, both of whom wouldhave died for the captain, assured me of the truth of MacMuir's story,and shook their heads gravely as to the probable outcome. The peculiarwater-mark of greatness that is woven into some men is often enoughto set their own community bitter against them. Sandie, the ploddingpeasant, finds it a hard matter to forgive Jamie, who is taken from theplough next to his, and ends in Parliament. The affair of Mungo Maxwell,altered to suit, had already made its way on more than one vessel toScotland. For according to Lowrie, there was scarce a man or woman inKirkcudbrightshire who did not know that John Paul was master of theJohn, and (in their hearts) that he would be master of more in days tocome. Human nature is such that they resented it, and cried out aloudagainst his cruelty.
On the voyage I had many sober thoughts of my own to occupy me of theterrible fate, from which, by Divine inter position, I had been rescued;of the home I had left behind. I was all that remained to Mr. Carvel inthe world, and I was sure that he had given me up for dead. How had hesustained the shock? I saw him heavily mounting the stairs upon Scipicksarm when first the news was brought to him. Next Grafton would comehurrying in from Kent to Marlboro Street, disavowing all knowledge ofthe messenger from New York, and intent only upon comforting his father.And when I pictured my uncle soothing him to his face, and grinningbehind his bed-curtains, my anger would scald me, and the realization ofmy helplessness bring tears of very bitterness.
What would I not have given then for one word with that honest andfaithful friend of our family, Captain Daniel! I knew that he suspectedGrafton: he had told me as much that night at the Coffee House. Perhapsthe greatest of my fears was that my uncle would deny him access to Mr.Carvel when he returned from the North.
In the evening, when the sun settled red upon the horizon, I would thinkof Patty and my friends in Gloucester Street. For I knew they missed mesadly of a Sunday at the supper-table. But it has ever been my natureto turn forward instead of back, and to accept the twists and flings offortune with hope rather than with discouragement. And so, as we leftleague after, league of the blue ocean behind us, I would set my face tothe forecastle. For Dorothy was in England.
On a dazzling morning in March, with the brigantine running like abeagle in full cry before a heaping sea that swayed her body,--so Ibeheld for the first time the misty green of the high shores of Ireland.Ah! of what heroes' deeds was I capable as I watched the lines comeout in bold relief from a wonderland of cloud! With what eternal life Iseemed to tingle! 'Twas as though I, Richard Carvel, had discovered allthis colour; and when a tiny white speck of a cottage came out on theedge of the cliff, I thought irresistibly of the joy to live there theyear round with Dorothy, with the wind whistling about our gables, andthe sea thundering on the rocks far below. Youth is in truth a mystery.
How long I was gazing at the shifting coast I know not, for a strangewildness was within me that made me forget all else, until suddenlyI became conscious of a presence at my side, and turned to behold thecaptain.
"'Tis a braw sight, Richard," said he, "but no sae bonnie as auldScotland. An' the wind hands, we shall see her shores the morn."
His voice broke, and I looked again to see two great tears rolling uponhis cheeks.
"Ah, Scotland!" he pressed on, heedless of them, "God aboon kens whatshe is to me! But she hasna' been ower guid to me, laddie." And hewalked to the taffrail, and stood looking astern that two men whohad come aft to splice a haulyard might not perceive his disorder. Ifollowed him, emboldened to speak at last what was in me.
"Captain Paul," said I, "MacMuir has told me of your trouble. Mygrandfather is rich, and not lacking in gratitude,"--here I paused forsuitable words, as I could not solve his expression,--"you, sir, whosebravery and charity will have restored me to him, shall not want forfriends and money."
He heard me through.
"Mr. Carvel," he replied with an impressiveness that took me aback,"reward is a thing that should not be spoken of between gentlemen."
And thus he left me, upbraiding myself that I should have mentionedmoney. And yet, I reflected secondly, why not? He was no more nor lessthan a master of a merchantman, and surely nothing was out of the commonin such a one accepting what he had honestly come by. Had my affectionfor him been less sincere, had I not been racked with sympathy, I hadlaughed over his notions of gentility. I resolved, however, that whenI had reached London and seen Mr. Dix, Mr. Carvel's agent, he should berewarded despite his scruples. And if he lost his ship, he should haveone of my grandfather's.
But at dinner he had plainly forgot any offence, and I had morecause than ever to be puzzled over his odd mixture of confidence andaloofness. He talked gayly on a score of subjects,--on dress, of whichhe was never tired, and described ports in the Indies and South America,in a fashion that betrayed prodigious powers of acute observation; nordid he lack for wit when he spoke of the rich planters who had winedhim, and had me much in laughter. We fell into a merry mood, in Booth,jingling the glasses in many toasts, for he had a list of healths tomake me gasp, near as long as the brigantine's articles,--Inez in Havanaand Maraquita in Cartagena, and Clotilde, the Creole, of Martinico, eachhad her separate charm. Then there was Bess, in Kingston, the relictof a customs official, Captain Paul relating with ingenuous gusto amidnight brush with a lieutenant of his Majesty, in which the fairwidow figured, and showed her preference, too. But his adoration for theladies of the more northern colonies, he would have me to understand,was unbounded. For example, Miss Arabella Pope of Norfolk, inVirginia,--and did I know her? No, I had not that pleasure, though Iassured him the Popes of Virginia were famed. Miss Pope danced divinelyas any sylph, and the very memory of her tripping at the NorfolkAssembly roused the captain to such a pitch of enthusiasm as I had neverseen in him. Marvellous to say, his own words failed him, and he hadrecourse to the poets:
"Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But, oh, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight."
The lines, he told me, were Sir John Suckling's; and he gave themstanding, in excellent voice and elegant gesture.
He was in particular partial to the poets, could quote at will from Gayand Thomson and Goldsmith and Gray, and even from Shakespeare, muchto my own astonishment and humiliation. Saving only Dr. Courtenayof Annapolis I had never met his equal for versatility of speech andcommand of fine language; and, having heard that he had been at seasince the age of twelve, I made bold to ask him at what school he hadgot his knowledge.
"At none, Richard," he answered with pride, "saving the rudiments at theParish School at Kirkbean. Why, sir, I hold it to be within everyman's province to make himself what he will, and I early recognized inLearning the only guide for such as me. I may say that I married her forthe furtherance of my fortunes, and have come to love her for her ownsake. Many and many the 'tween-watch have I passed in a coil of rope inthe tops, a volume of the classics in my hand. And 'my happiest days,when not at sea, have been spent in my brother William's little library.He hath a modest estate near Fredericksburg, in Virginia, and none holdshigher than he the worth of an education. Ah, Richard," he added, witha certain sadness, "I fear you little know the value of that which hathbeen so lavishly bestowed upon you. There is no creation in the world toequal your fine gentleman!"
It struck me indeed as strange that a man of his powers should set storeby such trumpery, and, too, that these notions had not impaired hisability as a seaman. I did not reply. He gave no heed, however, but drewfrom a case a number of odes and compositions, which he told me werehis own. They were addressed to various of his enamouritas, abounded inorrery, and were all, I make no doubt, incredibly fine, tho' not somuch as one sticks in my mind. To speak truth I listened with a very illgrace, longing the while to be on deck, for we were about to sight theIsle of Man. The wine and the air of the cabin had m
ade my eyes heavy.But presently, when he had run through with some dozen or more, he putthem by, and with a quick motion got from his chair, a light coming intohis dark eyes that startled me to attention. And I forgot the merchantcaptain, and seemed to be looking forward into the years.
"Mark you, Richard," said he, "mark well when I say that my time willcome, and a day when the best of them will bow to me. And every ell ofthat triumph shall be mine, sir,-ay, every inch!"
Such was his force, which sprang from some hidden fire within him, thatI believed his words as firmly as they had been writ down in the Book ofIsaiah. Brimming over with enthusiasm, I pledged his coming greatness ina reaming glass of Malaga.
"Alack," he cried, "an' they all had your faith, laddie, a fig for theprophecy! Ya maun ken th' incentive's the maist o' the battle."
There was more of wisdom in this than I dreamed of then. Here lay hidthe very keynote of that ambitious character: he stooped to nothing lessthan greatness for a triumph over his slanderers.
I rose betimes the next morning to find the sun peeping above thewavy line of the Scottish hills far up the. Solway, and the brigantinesliding smoothly along in the lee of the Galloway Rhinns. And, thoughthe month was March, the slopes of Burrow Head were green as the lawn ofCarvel Hall in May, and the slanting rays danced on the ruffed water. Byeight of the clock we had crept into Kirkcudbright Bay and anchored offSt. Mary's Isle, the tide running ebb, and leaving a wide brown belt ofsand behind it.
St. Mary's Isle! As we looked upon it that day, John Paul and I, andit lay low against the bright water with its bare oaks and chestnutsagainst the dark pines, 'twas perhaps as well that the future was sealedto us.
Captain Paul had conned the brigantine hither with a master's hand; butnow that the anchor was on the ground, he became palpably nervous. I haddonned again good MacMuir's shore suit, and was standing by the gangwaywhen the captain approached me.
"What'll ye be doing now, Dickie lad?" he asked kindly.
What indeed! I was without money in a foreign port, still dependent uponmy benefactor. And since he had declared his unwillingness to accept anyreturn I was of no mind to go farther into his debt. I thanked him againfor his goodness in what sincere terms I could choose, and told him Ishould be obliged if he would put me in the way of working my passage toLondon upon some coasting vessel. But my voice was thick, my affectionfor him having grown-past my understanding.
"Hoots!" he replied, moved in his turn, "whyles I hae siller ye shallnalack. Ye maun gae post-chaise to London, as befits yere station."
And scouting my expostulations, he commanded the longboat, bidding me beready to go ashore with him. I had nothing to do but to say farewellto MacMuir and Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, which was hard enough. For thehonest first mate I had a great liking, and was touched beyond speechwhen he enjoined me to keep his shore suit as long as I had want of it.
"But you will be needing it, MacMuir," I said, suspecting he had noother.
"Haith! I am but a plain man, Mr. Carvel, and ye can sen' back the clawfrae London, wi' this geordie."
He slipped a guinea into my hand, but this I positively refused to take;and to hide my feelings I climbed quickly over the side and into thestern of the boat, beside the captain, and was rowed away through thelittle fleet of cobles gathering about the ship. Twisting my neck fora parting look at the John, I caught a glimpse of MacMuir's ungainlyshoulders over the fokesle rail, and I was near to tears as he shouted ahearty "God speed" after me.
As we drew near the town of Kirkcudbright, which lies very low at themouth of the river Dee, I made out a group of men and women on thewharves. The captain was silent, regarding them. When we had got withintwenty feet or so of the landing, a dame in a red woollen kerchiefcalled out:
"What hae ye done wi' Mungo, John Paul?"
"CAPTAIN John Paul, Mither Birkie," spoke up a coarse fellow with arough beard. And a laugh went round.
"Ay, captain! I'll captain him!" screamed the carlin, pushing tothe front as the oars were tossed, "I'll tak aith Mr. Currie'll becaptaining him for his towmond voyage o' piratin'. He be leukin' for yenoo, John Paul." With that some of the men on the thwarts, perceivingthat matters were likely to go ill with the captain, began to chaffwith their friends above. The respect with which he had inspired them,however, prevented any overt insult on their part. As for me, my temperhad flared up like the burning of a loose charge of powder, and byinstinct my right hand sought the handle of the mate's hanger. Thebeldame saw the motion.
"An' hae ye murder't MacMuir, John Paul, an' gien's claw to a Buckskingowk?"
The knot stirred with an angry murmur: in truth they meantviolence,--nothing less. But they had counted without their man, forPaul was born to ride greater crises. With his lips set in a line hestepped lightly out of the boat into their very midst, and they lookedinto his eyes to forget time and place. MacMuir had told me how thoseeyes could conquer mutiny, but I had not believed had I trot beenthereto see the pack of them give back in sullen wonder. And so wewalked through and on to the little street beyond, and never a word fromthe captain until we came opposite the sign of the Hurcheon."
"Do you await me here, Richard," he said quite calmly; "I mast seek Mr.Currie, and make my report."
I have still the remembrance of that pitiful day in the clean littlevillage. I went into the inn and sat down upon an oak settle in a cornerof the bar, under the high lattice, and thought of the bitterness ofthis home-coming. If I was amongst strangers, he was amongst worse:verily, to have one's own people set against one is heaviness of heartto a man whose love of Scotland was great as John Paul's. After a whilethe place began to fill, Willie and Robbie and Jamie arriving to discussPaul's return over their nappy. The little I could make of their talkwas not to my liking, but for the captain's sake I kept my anger underas best I could, for I had the sense to know that brawling with a lotof alehouse frequenters would not advance his cause. At length, however,came in the same sneering fellow I had marked on the wharf, callingloudly for swats. "Ay, Captain Paul was noo at Mr. Curries, syne banieAlan seed him gang forbye the kirk." The speaker's name, I learned, wasDavie, and he had been talking with each and every man in the long-boat.Yes, Mungo Maxwell had been cat-o'-ninetailed within an inch of hislife; and that was the truth; for a trifling offence, too; and cruellydischarged at some outlandish port because, forsooth, he would notaccept the gospel of the divinity of Captain Paul. He would as soon signpapers with the devil.
This Davie was gifted with a dangerous kind of humour which I haveheard called innuendo, and he soon had the bar packed with listeners wholaughed and cursed turn about, filling the room to a closeness scarcesupportable. And what between the foul air and my resentment, andapprehension lest John Paul would come hither after me, I was inprodigious discomfort of body and mind. But there was no pushing my waythrough them unnoticed, wedged as I was in a far corner; so I sat stilluntil unfortunately, or fortunately, the eye of Davie chanced to fallupon me, and immediately his yellow face lighted malignantly.
"Oh! here be the gentleman the captain's brocht hame!" he cried,emphasizing the two words; "as braw a gentleman as eer taen fraepirates, an' nae doubt sin to ae bien Buckskin bonnet-laird."
I saw through his game of getting satisfaction out of John Paul thro'goading me, and determined he should have his fill of it. For, all inall, he had me mad enough to fight three times over.
"Set aside the gentleman," said I, standing up and taking off MacMuir'scoat, "and call me a lubberly clout like yourself, and we will see whichis the better clout." I put off the longsleeved jacket, and faced himwith my fists doubled, crying: "I'll teach you, you spawn of a dunghill,to speak ill of a good man!"
A clamour of "Fecht! fecht!" arose, and some of them applauded me,calling me a "swankie," which I believe is a compliment. A certain senseof fairness is often to be found where least expected. They capsizedthe fat, protesting browsterwife over her own stool, and were pullingJamie's coat from his back, when I began to suspect that a fight was notto
the sniveller's liking. Indeed, the very look of him made me laughout--'twas now as mild as a summer's morn.
"Wow," says Jamie, "ye maun fecht wi' a man o' yere ain size."
"I'll lay a guinea that we weigh even," said I; and suddenly rememberedthat I had not so much as tuppence to bless me.
Happily he did not accept the wager. In huge disgust they hustled himfrom the inn and put forward the blacksmith, who was standing at thedoor in his leather apron. Now I had not bargained with the smith, whoseemed a well-natured enough man, and grinned broadly at the prospect.But they made a ring on the floor, I going over it at one end, and heat the other, when a cry came from the street, those about the entranceparted, and in walked John Paul himself. At sight of him my newadversary, who was preparing to deal me out a blow to fell an ox,dropped his arms in surprise, and held out his big hand.
"Haith! John Paul," he shouted heartily, forgetting me, "'tis blythe Iam to see yere bonnie face ance mair!
"An' wha are ye, Jamie Darrell," said the captain, "to be bangin' yerebetters? Dinna ye ken gentry when ye see't?"
A puzzled look spread over the smith's grimy face.
"Gentry!" says he; "nae gentry that I ken, John Paul. Th' fecht be but abit o' fun, an' nane o' my seekin'."
"What quarrel is this, Richard?" says John Paul to me.
"In truth I have no quarrel with this honest man," I replied; "I desiredbut the pleasure of beating a certain evil-tongued Davie, who seems tohave no stomach for blows, and hath taken his lies elsewhere."
So quiet was the place that the tinkle of the guidwife's needle, whichshe had dropped to the flags, sounded clear to all. John Paul stood inthe middle of the ring, erect, like a man inspired, and the same strangesense of prophecy that had stirred my blood crept over him and awed therest, as tho' 'twere suddenly given to see him, not as he was, but as hewould be. Then he spoke.
"You, who are my countrymen, who should be my oldest and best friends,are become my enemies. You who were companions of my childhood arerevilers of my manhood; you have robbed me of my good name and myhonour, of my ship, of my very means of livelihood, and you are notcontent; you would rob me of my country, which I hold dearer than all.And I have never done you evil, nor spoken aught against you. As forthe man Maxwell, whose part you take, his child is starving in your verymidst, and you have not lifted your hands. 'Twas for her sake I shippedhim, and none other. May God forgive you! He alone sees the bitternessin my heart this day. He alone knows my love for Scotland, and what itcosts me to renounce her."
He had said so much with an infinite sadness, and I read a response inthe eyes of more than one of his listeners, the guidwife weeping aloud.But now his voice rose, and he ended with a fiery vigour.
"Renounce her I do," he cried, "now and forevermore! Henceforth I amno countryman of yours. And if a day of repentance should come for thisevil, remember well what I have said to you."
They stood for a moment when he had finished, shifting uneasily, theirtongues gone, like lads caught in a lie. I think they felt his greatnessthen, and had any one of them possessed the nobility to come forwardwith an honest word, John Paul might yet have been saved to Scotland.As it was, they slunk away in twos and threes, leaving at last only thegood smith with us. He was not a man of talk, and the tears had washedthe soot from his face in two white furrows.
"Ye'll hae a waught wi' me afore ye gang, John," he said clumsily, "forth' morns we've paddl' 't thegither i' th' Nith."
The ale was brought by the guidwife, who paused, as she put it down, towipe her eyes with her apron. She gave John Paul one furtive glance andbetook herself again to her knitting with a sigh, speech having failedher likewise. The captain grasped up his mug.
"May God bless you, Jamie," he said.
"Ye'll be gaen noo to see the mither," said Jamie, after a long space.
"Ay, for the last time. An', Jamie, ye'll see that nae harm cams to herwhen I'm far awa'?"
The smith promised, and also agreed to have John Paul's chests sent bywagon, that very day, to Dumfries. And we left him at his forge, hishonest breast torn with emotion, looking after us.