‘Aye your honor, I did say as much as that to Bill Lovell’s girl down there at the High Rock fishing hamlet.’
‘Well, I come by her direction – and now do you hold still to your first declaration to her?’
‘That do I, your honor.’
‘Then come with me.’
And Jack followed the stranger to the summit of the hill which commanded a good view of the harbor, indeed its base, which was surrounded by straggling tenements, terminated in the bay itself.
‘Do you see that brig just below us here?’ asked the stranger, pointing to a well appointed vessel of that rig not far from the shore.
‘Ay, ay, sir, she sails to-morrow.’
‘If she gets two more hands.’
‘So I have heard, sir.’
‘Will you ship?’
‘In her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not I.’
‘With good wages and proper treatment?’ continued the stranger.
‘Why, she’s bound into those infernal Buccanier latitudes d’ye see,’ said Jack Herbert, ‘and I don’t care about going there again unless with a good stout crew and plenty of armament.’
‘You are prevented by fear then,’ said the stranger tauntingly.
‘Why, not exactly, your honor, but you see it’s a wanton tempting of providence to leap straight into a shark’s mouth.’
‘Look ye, my good fellow – I’m about to join that craft as her second mate. I’m bound for Cuba, so is that brig. She’s going on her own business, I’m going on mine, which is to aid your old comrades to escape from prison. So far as she goes my way I go hers, and between ourselves, no further. Now if you will trust to me I think we can manage to accomplish this object. How do you like the plan?’
‘I don’t mind shipping in her for such a purpose,’ said Jack Herbert, ‘only she’s got such a cursed bad captain. King George never had a more faithful representative of his own black character than the English captain of that brig yonder. ‘I know it,’ said Jack confidently; why, do ye see they’ve been trying to get me on board there these ten days.’
‘But, my good fellow, I shall be one of your officers, and shall look after your comfort – come, think better of this, you’ll ship, eh?’
After some considerable hesitation, Jack replied: ‘In this case I must, for damme, if I can bear to think of what those honest fellows are suffering off there in Cuba.’
‘There’s my hand, my honest fellow,’ said the stranger. ‘I will go and enter your name on the shipping list, and meet you again to-night, when I will have a more explicit conversation with you and tell you more of my proposed course of conduct for the coming voyage.’
The stranger, whoever he was, had Fanny’s interest near at heart, and had evidently made himself master of the relation of each to the other, as well as the whole matter of young Lovell’s confinement in prison.
Soon after the stranger left Jack Herbert, on his way to the shore, he was passing along one of the narrow and crooked lanes of the North End, as that part of the town was then called, and as it is known to this day, when he heard the groans of some one in distress. He sought the door of a low and poorly built house, from whence the sounds issued, and entering, he found a poor woman suffering from severe sickness, lying there upon a bed of straw. By her side sat a man of about twenty-five years of age, offering her such little comforts and attentions as were in his power.
The room was desolate, and the stranger could see that want and poverty dwelt there. He asked the man what he could do to serve them, and whether he could not procure something for the sufferer, who was moaning most piteously.
‘Arrah, she’s past the nade of it now,’ said the man.
‘Go and get a physician,’ said the gentleman.
‘Get a Doctor is it? And who’ll pay.’
‘I’ll see to that, go quick.’
‘You’ll pay, will ye?’
‘Certainly, be quick I say.’
The physician came at once, but informed them that the woman could not live but a few hours at most, and after prescribing a gentle anodyne he retired.
The stranger paid the Doctor his fee, and after giving some money to the man and bidding him procure whatever should be necessary for his mother, he was just about to leave the miserable apartment when the man said:
‘Hiven bless yees for a jintleman as ye is. Where might I be afther finding ye when I could pay yer back ye know?’
‘Never mind that, my good fellow, at all, it is of no consequence. I’ll call in and see you in the morning.’
‘So do, yer honor, and long life to all such as yees.’
Leaving the poor Irishman in the midst of his grateful acknowledgements, the stranger approached the shore, and making a signal with his hat, a boat was despatched from the brig to carry him on board. He was a noble looking young sailor, and his manner and bearing bespoke a degree of refinement not usual in one of his class. He was of ordinary height, well formed in every limb, and he looked as if his experience as a seaman must have been gained in the navy, for while his countenance wore the browned hue which exposure to the elements always imparts, yet was he one who evidently had never labored before the mast. He was young, certainly not much over twenty years of age, but there was a look of authority about the mild yet determined expression of his countenance, that told of more matured experience.
He was dressed in blue sailor’s pants, and a short Pea Jacket descending about half way to the knee, within the lining of which a close observer might have seen a brace of pistols and the silver haft of a knife, so designed as to cut at both sides while it was bent like the Turkish hanger. As he waved his tarpaulin hat for a signal to the brig, the night breeze played with his short, curly hair, throwing it in dainty curls about his forehead, which, protected by the hat so constantly worn by the seaman, was white as alabaster, and showed in singular contrast with the browned cheek and open neck. – Altogether you would have pronounced him a king’s officer in disguise.
The boat received him, and he was soon on board the brig.
‘Well, Mr. Channing,’ said the captain of the vessel, who met him as soon as he arrived on board, ‘have you engaged the man whom you promised to get for me yesterday?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘When will he join us? we sail with the morning tide you know.’
‘He will be on board to-morrow morning in good season, sir.’
‘Don’t let him fail, sir, for it will completely man us into our single hand, Mr. Channing. It does seem a pity to sail without the full complement when we have so nearly got it.’
‘I’ll see this man again to-night sir, and make sure of him.’
‘That will be well, sir,’ replied the Captain.
This conversation was held on the quarter deck of the brig Constance which was of about four hundred tons burthen, and a most beautiful specimen of the naval architecture of the day. She was bound ostensibly to the West Indies, but the plan was (as Mr. Channing told Jack Herbert that night) that after touching there she was to proceed to England.
She was well armed carrying a long tom amidships, and half a dozen six pounders, and a crew when her complement was complete, of twenty men before the mast. She was designed as a strong armed trader, and having letters of marque, she was expected to take any vessel belonging to the enemies of England (under whose flag she sailed) provided she was strong enough. Her commander was a tyrant in his