Chapter XLII
We sail for the West Indies--A volunteer for the ship refused and set onshore again, for reasons which the chapter will satisfactorily explainto the reader.
We were very glad when the master-attendant came on board to take usinto the Sound; and still more glad to perceive that the brig, which hadjust been launched before O'Brien was appointed to her, appeared to sailvery fast as she ran out. So it proved after we went to sea; she sailedwonderfully well, beating every vessel that she met, and overhauling ina very short time everything that we chased; turning to windward likemagic, and tacking in a moment. Three days after we anchored in theSound the ship's company were paid, and our sailing orders came down toproceed with despatches, by next evening's post, to the island ofJamaica. We started with a fair wind, and were soon clear of thechannel. Our whole time was now occupied in training our new ship'scompany at the guns, and learning them _to pull together;_ and by thetime that we had run down the trades, we were in a very fair state ofdiscipline. The first lieutenant was rather an odd character; hisbrother was a sporting man of large property, and he had contracted,from his example, a great partiality for such pursuits. He knew thewinning horses of the Derby and the Oaks for twenty years back, was anadept at all athletic exercises, a capital shot, and had his pointer onboard. In other respects, he was a great dandy in his person, alwayswore gloves, even on service, very gentlemanlike and handsome, and not avery bad sailor; that is, he knew enough to carry on his duty verycreditably, and evidently, now that he was the first lieutenant, andobliged to work, learnt more of his duty every day. I never met a morepleasant messmate or a more honourable young man. A brig is only allowedtwo lieutenants. The master was a rough, kind-hearted, intelligent youngman, always in good humour. The surgeon and purser completed our mess;they were men of no character at all, except, perhaps, that the surgeonwas too much of a courtier, and the purser too much of a skin-flint; butpursers are, generally speaking, more sinned against than sinning.
But I have been led away, while talking of the brig and the officers,and had almost forgotten to narrate a circumstance which occurred twodays before we sailed. I was with O'Brien in the cabin, when MrOsbaldistone, the first lieutenant, came in, and reported that a boy hadcome on board to volunteer for the ship.
"What sort of a lad is he?" said O'Brien.
"A very nice lad--very slight, sir," replied the first lieutenant. "Wehave two vacancies."
"Well, see what you make of him; and if you think he will do, you mayput him on the books."
"I have tried him, sir. He says that he has been a short time at sea. Imade him mount the main-rigging, but he did not much like it."
"Well, do as you please, Osbaldistone," replied O'Brien; and the firstlieutenant quitted the cabin.
In about a quarter of an hour he returned. "If you please, sir," saidhe, laughing, "I sent the boy down to the surgeon to be examined, and herefused to strip. The surgeon says that he thinks she is a woman. I havehad her up on the quarter-deck, and she refuses to answer any questions,and requires to speak with you."
"With me!" said O'Brien, with surprise. "Oh! one of the men's wives, Isuppose, trying to steal a march upon us. Well, send her down here,Osbaldistone, and I'll prove to her the moral impossibility of hersailing in his Majesty's brig _Rattlesnake_."
In a few minutes the first lieutenant sent her down to the cabin door,and I was about to retire as she entered; but O'Brien stopped me. "Stay,Peter: my reputation will be at stake if I'm left all alone," said he,laughing.
The sentry opened the door, and whether boy or girl, a more interestingface I never beheld; the hair was cut close, and I could not tellwhether the surgeon's suspicions were correct.
"You wish to speak--holy St Patrick!" cried O'Brien, looking earnestlyat her features; and O'Brien covered his face and bent over the table,exclaiming, "My God, my God!"
In the meantime the colour of the young person fled from hercountenance, and then rushed into it again, alternately leaving it paleand suffused with blushes. I perceived a trembling over the frame, theknees shook and knocked together, and had I not hastened, she--for afemale it was--would have fallen on the deck. I perceived that she hadfainted; I therefore laid her down on the deck, and hastened to obtainsome water. O'Brien ran up and went to her.
"My poor, poor girl!" said he, sorrowfully. "Oh! Peter, this is all yourfault."
"All my fault! how could she have come here?"
"By all the saints who pray for us--dearly as I prize them, I would giveup my ship and my commission, that this could be undone."
As O'Brien hung over her, the tears from his eyes fell upon her face,while I bathed it with the water I had brought from the dressing-room. Iknew who it must be, although I had never seen her. It was the girl towhom O'Brien had professed love, to worm out the secret of the exchangeof my uncle's child; and as I beheld the scene I could not help sayingto myself, "Who now will assert that evil may be done that good maycome?" The poor girl showed symptoms of recovering, and O'Brien wavedhis hand to me, saying, "Leave us, Peter, and see that no one comes in."
I remained nearly an hour at the cabin-door, by the sentry, andprevented many from entering, when O'Brien opened the door, andrequested me to order his gig to be manned and then to come in. The poorgirl had evidently been weeping bitterly, and O'Brien was much affected.
"All is arranged, Peter; you must go on shore with her, and not leaveher till you see her safe off by the night coach. Do me that favour,Peter--you ought indeed," continued he, in a low voice, "for you havebeen partly the occasion of this."
I shook O'Brien's hand and made no answer--the boat was reported ready,and the girl followed me with a firm step. I pulled on shore, saw hersafe in the coach without asking her any question, and then returned onboard.
"Come on board, sir," said I, entering the cabin with my hat in my hand,and reporting myself according to the regulations of the service.
"Thank you," replied O'Brien: "shut the door, Peter. Tell me, how didshe behave? What did she say?"
"She never spoke, and I never asked her a question. She seemed to bewilling to do as you had arranged."
"Sit down, Peter. I never felt more unhappy, or more disgusted withmyself in all my life. I feel as if I never could be happy again. Asailor's life mixes him up with the worst part of the female sex, and wedo not know the real value of the better. I little thought when I wastalking nonsense to that poor girl, that I was breaking one of thekindest hearts in the world, and sacrificing the happiness of one whowould lay down her existence for me, Peter. Since you have been gone,it's twenty times that I've looked in the glass just to see whether Idon't look like a villain. But, by the blood of St Patrick! I thoughtwoman's _love_ was just like our own, and that a three months' cruisewould set all to rights again."
"I thought she had gone over to France."
"So did I; but now she has told me all about it. Father M'Dermot[1] andher mother brought her down to the coast near here to embark in asmuggling boat for Dieppe. When the boat pulled in-shore in the night totake them in, the mother and the rascally priest got in, but she felt asif it was leaving the whole world to leave the country I was in, and sheheld back. The officers came down, one or two pistols were fired, andthe boat shoved off without her, and she, with their luggage, was lefton the beach. She went back to the next town with the officers, whereshe told the truth of the story, and they let her go. In FatherM'Dermot's luggage she found letters, which she read, and found out thatshe and her mother were to have been placed in a convent at Dieppe; and,as the convent was named in the letters,--which she says are veryimportant, but I have not had courage to read them yet,--she went tothe people from whose house they had embarked, requesting them toforward the luggage and a letter to her mother--sending everything butthe letters, which she reserved for me. She has since received a letterfrom her mother, telling her that she is safe and well in the convent,and begging her to come over to her as soon as possible. The mother tookthe vows a week after she arr
ived there, so we know where to find her,Peter."
"And where is the poor girl going to stay now, O'Brien?"
"That's all the worst part of it. It appears that she hoped not to befound out till after we had sailed, and then to have, as she said, poorthing! to have laid at my feet and watched over me in the storms; but Ipointed out to her that it was not permitted, and that I would not beallowed to marry her. O Peter! this is a very sad business," continuedO'Brien, passing his hand across his eyes.
"Well, but, O'Brien, what is to become of the poor girl?"
"She is going home to be with my father and mother, hoping one day thatI shall come back and marry her. I have written to Father M'Grath, tosee what he can do."
"Have you then not undeceived her?"
"Father M'Grath must do that, I could not. It would have been the deathof her. It would have stabbed her to the heart, and it's not for me togive that blow. I'd sooner have died--sooner have married her, than havedone it, Peter. Perhaps when I'm far away she'll bear it better. FatherM'Grath will manage it."
"O'Brien, I don't like that Father M'Grath."
"Well, Peter, you may be right; I don't exactly like all he says myself;but what is a man to do?--either he is a Catholic, and believes as aCatholic, or he is not one. Will I abandon my religion, now that it ispersecuted? Never, Peter: I hope not, without I find a much better, atall events. Still I do not like to feel that this advice of my confessoris at variance with my own conscience. Father M'Grath is a worldly man;but that only proves that he is wrong, not that our religion is--and Idon't mind speaking to you on this subject. No one knows that I'm aCatholic except yourself: and at the Admiralty they never asked me totake that oath which I never would have taken, although Father M'Grathsays I may take any oath I please with what he calls heretics, and hewill grant me absolution. Peter, my dear fellow, say no more about it."
I did not; but I may as well end the history of poor Ella Flanagan atonce, as she will not appear again. About three months afterwards, wereceived a letter from Father M'Grath, stating that the girl had arrivedsafe, and had been a great comfort to O'Brien's father and mother, whowished her to remain with them altogether; that Father M'Grath, had toldher that when a man took his commission as captain it was all the sameas going into a monastery as a monk, for he never could marry. The poorgirl believed him, and thinking that O'Brien was lost to her for ever,with the advice of Father M'Grath, had entered as a nun in one of thereligious houses in Ireland, that, as she said, she might pray for himnight and day.
Many years afterwards, we heard of her--she was well, and not unhappy;but O'Brien never forgot his behaviour to this poor girl. It was asource of continual regret; and I believe, until the last day of hisexistence, his heart smote him for his inconsiderate conduct towardsher. But I must leave this distressing topic, and return to the_Rattlesnake_, which had now arrived at the West Indies, and joined theAdmiral at Jamaica.
[Footnote 1: The worthy priest formerly called Father O'Toole.--ED.]