TALES OF THE SEA: 12 Maritime Adventure Novels in One Volume (Illustrated)
him to the yard arm! away!”
The shrill, long-drawn winding of the call which the callous boatswain sounded in bitter mockery was answered by an echo from twenty voices, in which the accents of nearly as many different people mingled in hoarse discordancy, as they shouted,—
“To the yard-arm! away with the three! away!”
Wilder cast a last glance of appeal at the Rover but he met no look, in return, from a face that was intentionally averted. Then, with a burning brain he felt himself rudely transferred from the quarter deck into the centre and less privileged portion of the ship. The violence of the passage, the hurried reeving of cords, and all the fearful preparations of a nautical execution, appeared but the business of a moment, to him who stood so near the verge of time.
“A yellow flag for punishment!” bawled there vengeful captain of the forecastle; “let the gentle man sail on his last cruise, under the rogue’s ensign!”
“A yellow flag! a yellow flag!” echoed twenty taunting throats. “Down with the Rover’s ensign and up with the colours of the prevot-marshal! A yellow flag! a yellow flag!”
The hoarse laughter, and mocking merriment, with which this coarse device was received, stirred the ire of Fid, who had submitted in silence, so far, to the rude treatment he received, for no other reason than that he thought his superior was the best qualified to utter the little which it might be necessary to say.
“Avast, ye villains!” he hotly exclaimed, prudence and moderation losing their influence, under the excitement of scornful anger; “ye cut-throat, lubberly villains! That ye are villains, is to be proved, in your teeth, by your getting your sailing orders from the devil; and that ye are lubbers, any man may see by the fashion in which ye have rove this cord about my throat. A fine jam will ye make with a turn in your whip! But ye’ll all come to know how a man is to be decently hanged, ye rogues, ye will. Ye’ll all come honestly by the knowledge, in your day, ye will!”
“Clear the turn, and run him up!” shouted one, two, three voices, in rapid succession; “a clear whip, and a swift run to heaven!”
Happily a fresh burst of riotous clamour, from one of the hatchways, interrupted the intention; and then was heard the cry of,—-
“A priest! a priest! Pipe the rogues to prayers, before they take their dance on nothing!”
The ferocious laughter with which the freebooters received this sneering proposal, was hushed as suddenly as though One answered to their mockery, from that mercy-seat whose power they so sacrilegiously braved, when a deep, menacing voice was heard in their midst, saying,—
“By heaven, if touch, or look, be laid too boldly on a prisoner in this ship, he who offends had better beg the fate ye give these miserable men, than meet my anger. Stand off, I bid you, and let the chaplain approach!”
Every bold hand was instantly withdrawn, and each profane lip was closed in trembling silence, giving the terrified and horror-stricken subject of their liberties room and opportunity to advance to the scene of punishment.
“See,” said the Rover, in calmer but still deeply authoritative tones; “you are a minister of God, and your office is sacred charity: If you have aught to smooth the dying moment to fellow mortal, haste to impart it!”
“In what have these offended?” demanded the divine, when power was given to speak.
“No matter; it is enough that their hour is near. If you would lift your voice in prayer, fear nothing. The unusual sounds shall be welcome even here. Ay, and these miscreants, who so boldly surround you, shall kneel, and be mute, as beings whose souls are touched by the holy rite. Scoffers shall be dumb, and unbelievers respectful, at my beck.—Speak freely!”
“Scourge of the seas!” commenced the chaplain, across whose pallid features a flash of holy excitement had cast its glow, “remorseless violator of the laws of man! audacious contemner of the mandates of your God! a fearful retribution shall avenge this crime. Is it not enough that you have this day consigned so many to a sudden end, but your vengeance must be glutted with more blood? Beware the hour when these things shall be visited, in almighty power on your own devoted head!”
“Look!” said the Rover, smiling, but with an expression that was haggard, in spite of the unnatural exultation that struggled about his quivering lip, “here are the evidences of the manner in which Heaven protects the right!”
“Though its awful justice be hidden in inscrutable wisdom for a time, deceive not thyself; the hour is at hand when it shall be seen and felt in majesty!”
The voice of the chaplain became suddenly choaked, for his wandering eye had fallen on the frowning countenance of Bignall, which, set in death, lay but half concealed beneath that flag which the Rover himself had cast upon the body. Then, summoning his energies, he continued, in the clear and admonitory strain that befitted his sacred calling: “They tell me you are but half lost to feeling for your kind; and, though the seeds of better principles, of better days, are smothered in your heart, that they still exist and might be quickened into goodly”
“Peace! You speak in vain. To your duty with these men, or be silent.”
“Is their doom sealed?”
“It is.”
“Who says it?” demanded a low voice at the elbow of the Rover, which, coming upon his ear at that moment, thrilled upon his most latent nerve, chasing the blood from his cheek to the secret recesses of his frame. But the weakness had already passed away with the surprise, as he calmly, and almost instantly answered,—
“The law.”
“The law!” repeated the governess. “Can they who set all order at defiance, who despise each human regulation, talk of law! Say, it is heartless, vindictive vengeance, if you will; but call it not by the sacred name of law.—I wander from my object! They have told me of this frightful scene, and I am come to offer ransom for the offenders. Name your price, and let it be worthy of the subject we redeem; a grateful parent shall freely give it all for the preserver of his child.”
“If gold will purchase the lives you wish,” the other interrupted, with the swiftness of thought, “it is here in hoards, and ready on the moment. What say my people! Will they take ransom?”
A short, brooding pause succeeded; and then a low, ominous murmur was raised in the throng, announcing their reluctance to dispense with vengeance. A scornful glance shot from the glowing eye of the Rover, across the fierce countenances by which he was environed; his lips moved with vehemence; but, as if he disdained further intercession, nothing was uttered for the ear. Turning to the divine, he added, with all the former composure of his wonderful manner,—
“Forget not your sacred office—time is leaving us.” He was then moving slowly aside, in imitation of the governess, who had already veiled her features from the revolting scene, when Wilder addressed him.
“For the service you would have done me, from my soul I thank you,” he said. “If you would know that I leave you in peace, give yet one solemn assurance before I die.”
“To what?”
“Promise, that they who came with me into your ship shall leave it unharmed, and speedily.”
“Promise, Walter,” said a solemn, smothered voice, in the throng.
“I do.”
“I ask no more.—Now, Reverend Minister of God, perform thy holy office, near my companions. Then ignorance may profit by your service. If I quit this bright and glorious scene, without thought and gratitude to that Being who, I humbly trust, has made me an heritor of still greater things, I offend wittingly and without hope. But these may find consolation in your prayers.”
Amid an awful and breathing silence, the chaplain approached the devoted companions of Wilder. Their comparative insignificance had left them unobserved during most of the foregoing scene; and material changes had occurred, unheeded, in their situation. Fid was seated on the deck, his collar