For Faith and Freedom

  CHAPTER XLIII.

  BARNABY HEARS THE NEWS.

  The master, my patient, got up from his bed in a few days, somewhatpale and weak after his copious blood-letting and the drasticmedicines with which I purged the grossness of his habit andexpelled the noxious humours caused by his many intemperances. Thesehad greatly injured what we call--because we know not what nor whatelse to call it--the pure volatile spirit, and, so to speak, turnedsour the _humor radicalis_--the sweet oil and balsamical virtuesof the body. I gave him such counsel as was fitting for his case,admonishing him urgently to abstain from strong liquors, exceptin their moderate use; to drink only after his meals; to keep hishead cool and sober, and above all things to repress and govern hisraging temper, which would otherwise most certainly catch him bythe throat like some fierce and invisible devil and throw him intoa fit, and so kill him. I told him also what might be meant by theWise Man (who certainly thought of all the bearings which his wordscould have) when he said that one who is slow to wrath is of greatunderstanding--namely, that many men do throw away their lives byfalling into excessive fits of rage. But I found that the words ofHoly Scripture had little authority over him, for he lived withoutprayer or praise, trampled on the laws of God, and gave no heed atall to the flight of time and the coming of the next world.

  For a day or two he followed my injunctions, taking a tankard ofsmall ale to his breakfast, the same quantity with his dinner, apint of Madeira for his supper, and a sober glass or two beforegoing to bed. But when he grew well, his brother planters cameround him again, the drinking was renewed, and in the morning Iwould find him again with parched throat, tongue dry, and shakinghand, ready to belabour, to curse, and to rail at everybody. Ifone wanted an example for the young how strong drink biteth likea serpent and stingeth like an adder, here was a case the sightof which might have caused all young men to forswear drunkenness.Alas! there are plenty of such examples to be seen in every part ofEngland; yet the younger men still continue to drink, and that, Ithink, worse than their fathers. This man, however, who was not yetfive-and-thirty, in the very prime of strong and healthy manhood,had his finger-joints swollen and stony from taking much wine; hecommonly ate but little meat, craving continually for more drink,and his understanding, which was by nature, I doubt not, clear andstrong, was now brutish and stupid. Thinking over this man, and ofthe power, even unto death, which he possessed over his servants andslaves, the words came into my mind: 'It is not for Kings, O Lemuel,it is not for Kings to drink wine; nor for Princes strong drink.'

  Nay, more (and this I say, knowing that many godly men will notagree with me): I am fully persuaded that there is no man in thewhole world so good and so strong in virtue and religion that heshould be suffered to become the master or despot over any otherman, even over a company of poor and ignorant blacks, or a gang oftransported thieves. When I think of those unhappy people, drivenforth in the morning, heavy-eyed and downcast, to the hard day'swork; and when I remember how they crept home at night, after beingdriven, cursed, and beaten all day long; and when I think upon theirdrivers, overseers, and masters, and of their hard and calloushearts, I am moved to cry aloud (if any would hear me) that to be aslave is wretched indeed; but that to own and to drive slaves shouldbe a thing most dangerous for any who would continue members ofChrist's Church.

  When I told Barnaby the surprising news that his sister was not onlysafe, but a servant like ourselves upon the same estate, I lookedthat he would rejoice. On the contrary, he fell into a strange mood,swearing at this ill stroke as he called it. He said that he neverhad the least doubt as to her safety, seeing there were so manyin the West Country who knew and respected her father, and wouldwillingly shelter her. Then he dwelt upon certain evils--of which, Iconfess, I had thought little--which might befall her. And, lastly,he set forth with great plainness the increased dangers in escapingwhen one has to carry a woman or a wounded man--a thing, he pointedout, which had caused his own capture after Sedgemoor.

  Then he opened up to me the whole business of our escape.

  'Last Saturday night,' he said, 'while you were sleeping, I mademy way to the port, and, having a shilling or so left, I soughtout a tavern. There is one hard by the Bridge, a house-of-call forsailors, where I had the good fortune to find a fellow who can dofor us all we want--if his money hold out, which I doubt. He is acarver by trade, and a convict, like ourselves; but is permittedby his master to work at his trade in the town. He hath been, itis true, branded in the hand; but, Lord! what signifies that? Hewas once a thief--well--he is now an honest lad again, who asks fornothing but to get home again. John Nuthall is his name.'

  'Go on, Barnaby. We are already in such good company that anotherrogue or two matters little.'

  'This man came here secretly last night, while you were in thesick-house. He is very hot upon getting away. And because I ama sailor and can navigate a craft (which he cannot do) he willtake with him not only myself, but also all my party. Now listen,Humphrey. He hath bought a boat of a Guinea man in the harbour; andbecause, to prevent the escape of servants, every boat is licensedand her owner has to give security to the Governor's officers, hehath taken this boat secretly up a little creek of which he knows,and hath there sunk her three feet deep. The masts, the sails, theoars, and the other gear he hath also safely bestowed in a secretplace. But we cannot sail without water, provisions, nor withouta compass at least. If our party is to consist of Sister, Robin,you, John Nuthall, and myself--five in all--we shall have to loadthe boat with provisions, and I must have a compass. I looked for aboatful with ourselves and John Nuthall. Now we have Sis as well;and the boat is but small. Where shall we get provisions? and whereshall we lay our hands upon the money to buy what we want?'

  He could talk of nothing else, because his mind was full of hisplan. Yet it seemed to me a most desperate enterprise, thus tolaunch a small boat upon the wide ocean, and in this cockle-shell tobrave the waves which are often fatal to the tallest ships.

  'Tut, man,' said Barnaby. 'We are not now in the season of thetornadoes, and there is no other danger upon these seas. I wouldas lief be in an open boat as in a brigantine. Sharks may followus, but they will not attack a boat; calamaries they talk of, bigenough to lay their arms round the boat and so to drag it under;but such monsters have I never seen, any more than I have seen thegreat whale of Norway or the monstrous birds of the Southern Seas.There is only one danger, Humphrey, my lad.' Here he laid his handupon mine and became mighty serious. 'If we are taken we shall beflogged--all of us. Thirty-nine lashes they will lay on, and theywill brand us. For myself, I value not their thirty-nine lashes abrass farthing, nor their branding with a hot iron, which can butmake a man jump for a day or two. To me this risk against the chanceof escape matters nothing. Why, when I was cabin-boy I got dailymore than thirty-nine lashes--kicks, cuffs, and rope's-endings. Nay,I remember, when we sat over the Latin syntax together my dailyration must have been thirty-nine, more or less, and Dad's arm wasstronger than you would judge, to look at him. If they catch me, letthem lay on their thirty-nine and be damned to them! But you andRobin, I doubt, think otherwise.'

  'I would not willingly be flogged, Barnaby, if there were any way ofescape--even by death.'

  'So I thought! So I thought!'

  'And as for Robin, if he recovers--which I doubt--he too, if I knowhim, would rather be killed than be flogged.'

  'That comes of Oxford!' said Barnaby. 'And then there is Sis.Humphrey, my lad, it goes to my heart to think of that poor girl,stripped to be lashed like a black slave or a Bristol drab.'

  'Barnaby, she must never run that dreadful risk.'

  'Then she must remain behind, and here she runs that risk every day.What prevents yon drunken sot--the taste of that cudgel still sticksin my gizzard!--I say, what prevents him from tying her up to-day,or to-morrow, or every day?'

  'Barnaby, I say that she must never run that risk, for if we arecaught----' I stopped.

  'Before we are caught, you would say, Humphrey. We are of the sa
memind there. But who is to kill her? Not Robin, for he loves her; notyou, because you have too great a kindness for her. Not I, because Iam her brother. What should I say to my mother when I meet her afterwe are dead, and she asks me who killed Alice?'

  'Barnaby, if she is to die, let us all die together.'

  'Ay,' he replied, 'though I have, I confess, no great stomach fordying; yet, since we have got her with us, it must be done. 'Tiseasy to let the water into the boat, and so, in three minutes, withno suspicion at all, and my mother never to know anything about it,she would have said her last prayers, and we should be all sinkingtogether with never a gasp left.'

  I took him after this talk to the sick-house, where Alice wasbeginning her second night of nursing. Barnaby saluted his sister asbriefly as if her presence was the thing he most expected.

  The room was lit by a horn lanthorn containing a great candle, whichgave enough light to see Robin on the bed and Alice standing besidehim. The woman called Deb was sitting on the floor, wrapped in herrug.

  'Sis,' said Barnaby, 'I have heard from Humphrey how thou wastcozened out of thy money and enticed on board ship. Well, this worldis full of villains, and I doubt whether I shall live to kill themall. One I must kill and one I must cudgel. Patience, therefore, andno more upon this head. Well, Sis, dost love to be a servant?'

  'Surely not, Barnaby.'

  'Wouldst like to get thy freedom again?'

  'I know not the meaning of thy words, brother. Madam says that thosewho have interest at home may procure pardons for their friends inthe Plantations. Also that those whose friends have money may buytheir freedom from servitude. I am sure that Mr. Boscorel wouldwillingly do this for Robin and for Humphrey; but for myself--howcan I ask him? How can I ever let him know where I am and in whatcondition?'

  'Ay, ay, but I meant not that way, child; wilt thou trust thyself tous?'

  She looked at Robin. 'I cannot leave him,' she said.

  'No, no; we shall wait until he is dead--or, perhaps, better.' Buthe only added this to please his sister. 'When he is better, Sis,thou wilt not be afraid to trust thyself with us?'

  'I am not afraid of any danger, even of death, with you, if that isthe danger in your mind, Barnaby.'

  'Good! Then we understand each other. There are other dangers for ayoung and handsome woman--and, maybe, worse dangers. Hast any moneyat all, by chance?'

  'Nay; the man Penne took all my money.'

  Barnaby, for five or six minutes without stopping, spoke upon thistopic after the manner of a sailor. 'My turn will come,' he added.'No money, child? 'Tis a great pity. Had we a few gold pieces, now!Some women have rings and chains. But of course----'

  'Nay, brother; chains I never had, and as for rings, there were buttwo that ever I had--one from Robin, the day that I was plighted tohim; and one from the man who made me marry him, and put it on inthe church. The former did I break and throw away when I agreed--foryour dear lives--Barnaby, oh! for the lives of all'----

  'I know, I know,' said Barnaby. 'Patience--patience. Oh! I shall getsuch a chance some day!'

  'The other I threw away when I fled from my husband at the churchdoor.'

  'Ay, ay! If we only had a little money! 'Tis pity that we shouldfail for want of a little money.'

  'Why,' said Alice, 'I had quite forgotten. I have something that maybring money.' She pulled from her neck a black ribbon on which wasa little leathern bag. 'Tis the ring the Duke gave me at Ilchesterlong ago. I have never parted with it. "God grant," he said, whenhe gave it to me, "that it may bring thee good luck!" Will the ringhelp, Barnaby?'

  I took it first from her hand.

  'Why,' I said, 'it is a sweet and costly ring. Jewels I know andhave studied. If I mistake not, these emeralds must be worth a greatsum. But how shall we dispose of so valuable a ring in this place,and without causing suspicion?'

  'Give it to me.' Barnaby took it, looked at it, and laid it, bagand all, in his pocket. 'There are at the port merchants of allkinds, who will buy a ship's cargo of sugar one minute and the nextwill sell you a red herring. They will also advance money upon aring. As for suspicion, there are hundreds of convicts and servantshere. 'Tis but to call the ring the property of such an one, and noquestions will be asked. My friend John Nuthall, the carver, shalldo this for us. And now, Sis, I think that our business is as goodas done. Have no fear; we shall get away. First get Robin well, andthen'----Here Barnaby gazed upon her face with affection and withpity. 'But, sister, understand rightly: 'tis no child's play of hideand seek. 'Tis life or death!--life or death! If we fly, we mustnever come back again! Understand that well.'

  'Since we are in the Lord's hands, brother, why should we fear?Take me with you; let me die, if you must die; and if you live I amcontent to live with you, so that my husband never find me out.'