Nolan'sfeet, and a general rush made to the hogshead by way of spontaneousworship of Vaughan, as the _deus ex machina_ of the occasion.
"Tell them," said Vaughan, well pleased, "that I will take them all toCape Palmas."
This did not answer so well. Cape Palmas was practically as far from thehomes of most of them as New Orleans or Rio Janeiro was; that is, theywould be eternally separated from home there. And their interpreters, aswe could understand, instantly said, "_Ah, non Palmas_," and began topropose infinite other expedients in most voluble language. Vaughan wasrather disappointed at this result of his liberality, and asked Nolaneagerly what they said. The drops stood on poor Nolan's white forehead,as he hushed the men down, and said:--
"He says, 'Not Palmas.' He says, 'Take us home, take us to our owncountry, take us to our own house, take us to our own pickaninnies andour own women.' He says he has an old father and mother who will die ifthey do not see him. And this one says he left his people all sick, andpaddled down to Fernando to beg the white doctor to come and help them,and that these devils caught him in the bay just in sight of home, andthat he has never seen anybody from home since then. And this one says,"choked out Nolan, "that he has not heard a word from his home in sixmonths, while he has been locked up in an infernal barracoon."
Vaughan always said he grew gray himself while Nolan struggled throughthis interpretation: I, who did not understand anything of the passioninvolved in it, saw that the very elements were melting with ferventheat, and that something was to pay somewhere. Even the negroesthemselves stopped howling, as they saw Nolan's agony, and Vaughan'salmost equal agony of sympathy. As quick as he could get words, hesaid:--
"Tell them yes, yes, yes; tell them they shall go to the Mountains ofthe Moon, if they will. If I sail the schooner through the Great WhiteDesert, they shall go home!"
And after some fashion Nolan said so. And then they all fell to kissinghim again, and wanted to rub his nose with theirs.
But he could not stand it long; and getting Vaughan to say he might goback, he beckoned me down into our boat. As we lay back in thestern-sheets and the men gave way, he said to me: "Youngster, let thatshow you what it is to be without a family, without a home, and withouta country. And if you are ever tempted to say a word, or to do a thingthat shall put a bar between you and your family, your home, and yourcountry, pray God in His mercy to take you that instant home to His ownheaven. Stick by your family, boy; forget you have a self, while you doeverything for them. Think of your home, boy; write and send, and talkabout it. Let it be nearer and nearer to your thought, the farther youhave to travel from it; and rush back to it when you are free, as thatpoor black slave is doing now. And for your country, boy," and the wordsrattled in his throat, "--and for that flag," and he pointed to the ship,"never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though theservice carry you through a thousand hells. No matter what happens toyou, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never look at anotherflag, never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that flag.Remember, boy, that behind all these men you have to do with, behindofficers, and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself,your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to your ownmother. Stand by Her, boy, as you would stand by your mother, if thosedevils there had got hold of her to-day!"
I was frightened to death by his calm, hard passion; but I blundered outthat I would, by all that was holy, and that I had never thought ofdoing anything else. He hardly seemed to hear me; but he did, almost ina whisper, say: "O, if anybody had said so to me when I was of yourage!"
I think it was this half-confidence of his, which I never abused, for Inever told this story till now, which afterward made us great friends.He was very kind to me. Often he sat up, or even got up, at night, towalk the deck with me, when it was my watch. He explained to me a greatdeal of my mathematics, and I owe to him my taste for mathematics. Helent me books, and helped me about my reading. He never alluded sodirectly to his story again; but from one and another officer I havelearned, in thirty years, what I am telling. When we parted from him inSt. Thomas harbor, at the end of our cruise, I was more sorry than I cantell. I was very glad to meet him again in 1830; and later in life, whenI thought I had some influence in Washington, I moved heaven and earthto have him discharged. But it was like getting a ghost out of prison.They pretended there was no such man, and never was such a man. Theywill say so at the Department now! Perhaps they do not know. It will notbe the first thing in the service of which the Department appears toknow nothing!
There is a story that Nolan met Burr once on one of our vessels, when aparty of Americans came on board in the Mediterranean. But this Ibelieve to be a lie; or, rather, it is a myth, _ben trovato_, involvinga tremendous blowing-up with which he sunk Burr,--asking him how heliked to be "without a country." But it is clear from Burr's life, thatnothing of the sort could have happened; and I mention this only as anillustration of the stories which get a-going where there is the leastmystery at bottom.
Philip Nolan, poor fellow, repented of his folly, and then, like a man,submitted to the fate he had asked for. He never intentionally added tothe difficulty or delicacy of the charge of those who had him in hold.Accidents would happen; but never from his fault. Lieutenant Truxtontold me that, when Texas was annexed, there was a careful discussionamong the officers, whether they should get hold of Nolan's handsome setof maps and cut Texas out of it,--from the map of the world and the mapof Mexico. The United States had been cut out when the atlas was boughtfor him. But it was voted, rightly enough, that to do this would bevirtually to reveal to him what had happened, or, as Harry Cole said, tomake him think Old Burr had succeeded. So it was from no fault ofNolan's that a great botch happened at my own table, when, for a shorttime, I was in command of the George Washington corvette, on the SouthAmerican station. We were lying in the La Plata, and some of theofficers, who had been on shore and had just joined again, wereentertaining us with accounts of their misadventures in riding thehalf-wild horses of Buenos Ayres. Nolan was at table, and was in anunusually bright and talkative mood. Some story of a tumble reminded himof an adventure of his own when he was catching wild horses in Texaswith his adventurous cousin, at a time when he mast have been quite aboy. He told the story with a good deal of spirit,--so much so, that thesilence which often follows a good story hung over the table for aninstant, to be broken by Nolan himself. For he asked perfectlyunconsciously.--
"Pray, what has become of Texas? After the Mexicans got theirindependence, I thought that province of Texas would come forward veryfast. It is really one of the finest regions on earth; it is the Italyof this continent. But I have not seen or heard a word of Texas for neartwenty years."
There were two Texan officers at the table. The reason he had neverheard of Texas was that Texas and her affairs had been painfully cut outof his newspapers since Austin began his settlements; so that, while heread of Honduras and Tamaulipas, and, till quite lately, of California,--this virgin province, in which his brother had travelled so far, and,I believe, had died, had ceased to be to him. Waters and Williams, thetwo Texas men, looked grimly at each other and tried not to laugh.Edward Morris had his attention attracted by the third link in the chainof the captain's chandelier. Watrous was seized with a convulsion ofsneezing. Nolan himself saw that something was to pay, he did not knowwhat. And I, as master of the feast, had to say,--
"Texas is out of the map, Mr. Nolan. Have you seen Captain Back'scurious account of Sir Thomas Roe's Welcome?"
After that cruise I never saw Nolan again. I wrote to him at least twicea year, for in that voyage we became even confidentially intimate; buthe never wrote to me. The other men tell me that in those fifteen yearshe aged very fast, as well he might indeed, but that he was still thesame gentle, uncomplaining, silent sufferer that he ever was, bearing asbest he could his self-appointed punishment,--rather less social,perhaps, with new men whom he did not know, but more anxious,apparently, than ever to serve and befriend and teach the boys, some
ofwhom fairly seemed to worship him. And now it seems the dear old fellowis dead. He has found a home at last, and a country.
Since writing this, and while considering whether or no I would printit, as a warning to the young Nolans and Vallandighams and Tatnalls ofto-day of what it is to throw away a country, I have received fromDanforth, who is on board the "Levant," a letter which gives an accountof Nolan's last hours. It removes all my doubts about telling thisstory. The reader will understand Danforth's letter, or the beginning ofit, if he will remember that after ten years of Nolan's exile every onewho had him in charge was in a very delicate position. The governmenthad failed to renew the order of 1807 regarding him. What was a man todo? Should he let him go? What, then, if he were called to account bythe Department for violating the