CHAPTER VI.
_A FIERCE CHARACTER. ATTEMPT TO BURN THE BRIG. THE CONSULTATION. THESENTENCE. THE YARD ARM! A DREAM. THE TRIAL. A STUBBORN SPIRIT BROKEN. ANOBLE ACT OF JUSTICE! WORTHY OF EMULATION!_
|The day subsequent to this last fortunate capture, an event took placeon board the Constance which ended in a drama of singular interest.
There was a large powerful man, second in command of the prize justtaken, who had been transported to the brig for safe confinement. Hewas a man of remarkable muscular strength, and one whom all noted on hisfirst coming on board, as the prisoner who had caused so much trouble onboard the prize before he was taken and bound. For additional securityhe was confined separate from the rest of the prisoners, not onlybecause he had thus resisted Lovell after the surrender of the ship, butbecause he had been overheard to make several threats relative to thedestruction of the vessel in which he should be confined. This man was,as we have said, of remarkable bodily strength, and he was therefore, ifpossible, more securely confined than the rest of his companions, but,notwithstanding all this, on the afternoon of the day subsequent tohis capture, he managed to free himself from his bonds and place ofconfinement, which was in the forecastle of the brig.
When discovered, he had gathered a large pile of straw and othercombustibles together, to which he had actually communicated fire, andthe forward part of the vessel would have been wrapped in flames infive minutes more, but for the opportune discovery of the attempt of theprisoner by one of the crew of the Constance. The foremost man, who madethe discovery, and who instantly endeavored to extinguish the flames,was slightly stabbed with his own knife by the Englishman whom wehave described, and who was thus endeavoring to send the whole crewto eternity together. At length after a severe struggle he was againsecured and placed where he could be more closely watched than he hadbeen heretofore, and in such a manner as to render his escape a secondtime impossible.
The conduct of the prisoner seemed to all to be of the mostblood-thirsty and vindictive character, and the crew called loudlyon Captain Channing to make an example of him. Policy, too, urged thenecessity of this upon his own mind, for it was evident to the meanestcapacity on board, that the large number of prisoners confined in thebrig, if not deterred by some decided act of justice, would endeavor torise and take possession of the brig. So excited had the minds of thecrew became on this point, that they rather demanded than asked forthe immediate punishment of the man who would thus have destroyed themaltogether. In consideration of this emergency, Jack Herbert and WilliamLovell were each called upon from their separate commands to come onboard the Constance to meet the captain in consultation, while thelittle fleet was hove to. After a somewhat lengthy discussion of thesubject, Channing said: ‘You think then, gentlemen, that the executionof this man is necessary?’
‘I would string him up within the hour,’ said Jack Herbert
‘I regret the necessity,’ said Channing, ‘but I must acknowledge thatthe safety of our lives and that of the brig seems to demand it.’
‘Unquestionably,’ said both.
‘I look at this matter thus,’ continued Lovell. ‘We are like men livingover a mine of powder; the least spark of fire brought in contact withthat powder will cast us all headlong into eternity; there is one whoavowedly seeks an opportunity to apply the match; now should we hesitatefor a moment to deprive him of the power?’
‘This is the only light in which the subject can be viewed,’ saidHerbert; ‘and a most rational one it is too.’
‘The matter is settled then, gentlemen,’ said Channing, thoughtfully.‘And this man must die!’
It was thus decided, and they then separated until the hour appointedfor the execution of the prisoner.
It was a calm, mild day for the season; the three vessels had hardlyreached the colder latitudes of the middle coast, and the day was reallyremarkable for the season of the year of which we speak. The littlefleet lay within hailing distance of each other. The warm sun lay uponthe gently swelling breast of the ocean, like the blushing cheek ofa lady upon the breast of her lover. Everything about the brig wasarranged with a scrupulous regard to order and neatness, and thecountenance of every man seemed big with thought. Even honest TerrenceMooney looked uneasy and solemn about his face, which was usually soradiant with good feeling and kindness to all about him. Ever and anonhe would give a hitch to his pantaloons, and casting his eye aloftto some arrangement about the rigging of the ship, would then give anominous shake of his head, as much as to say, there was something goingon that did not exactly meet his approbation, and then try to forget,apparently, the thought that troubled him, by whistling loudly someIrish air. It had been decided, as the reader has seen, that theprisoner in question should be executed on the yard arm, and althoughthis was only understood by word of mouth, to the chief officers, yetthe intelligent eye of the crew took in the preparations, which hadnecessarily been made, with a full sense of their purpose.
The noble-hearted crew, now that they saw the event actually about totake place, looked sad and dejected, for though any one of them wouldhave gone into battle, with a jest, and while in the heat of blood, andwith the justice of his cause at heart, have slain his enemy without asecond thought; yet here they were about to do a very different deed,and one upon which they found time to reflect and ponder. They wereabout to launch a fellow being, in cold blood, into eternity, and everyact of preparation but added to the chill at heart that each man felt.Aye, their very natures were revolting within them at the proposed_murder_, for so must ever seem the preconcerted taking of human life.It is an awful thing to take away the life we cannot give; and weare one of those who question its justice even in extreme cases, saveactually in self defence.
‘Divil a bit do I fancy this work,’ said Terrence Mooney to one of hismessmates; ‘it will bring bad luck upon the darling little brig, to havea man dangling by his neck up there, where blocks and ropes only belong.Arah, faith now, what was I after draining of the divil’s tail lastnight, if it wasn’t all for this yard arm business?’
‘And did’nt I drame too,’ continued Terence, after taking a turn or twobetween decks, where he was now watching the prisoners, ‘and did’nt Idrame, too,’ said he, ‘that the brig run her nose into a water spoutat say, and got rig’larly’ corned, a’ drinking salt water, and that shewould have tumbled overboard intirely, but that Captain Channing keptall taut some how? Arab, divil a bit would I be after draining this ifthere was’nt something wrong.’
‘Don’t it all mane this hanging business, to be sure?’ put in hiscompanion, who was the Irishman that joined the brig from the firstprize.
‘It may be that, and so it is most like,’ continued Terence, ‘but I’vehad my misgivings, my boy, about lavin’ the ould woman, and not stoppingto see her dacently buried, and put under ground.’
‘That was’nt jist rigular, Terence.’
‘And how could I help it at all; was’nt Captain Channing and the brig tosail that very hour that I agreed? to be sure I could’nt help it.’
‘It’s yourself that will be turning out a Jonah, and swallowing thewhole of us,’ said his companion half seriously.
‘Way wid ye now,’ said Terence, ‘and don’t bother me.’
A solemn silence now reigned through the brig, which scarcely made asingle foot of headway as she rose and fell gracefully in the long heavyswell of the Atlantic.--We have said that it was calm, aye, it was verystill, for even the sea seemed as if holding its breath in anticipationof witnessing some unhallowed act. There was hardly a single signof life manifested on board the Constance, save the sedate and quiethelmsman, or of death either, though to the observant eye resting uponthat complicated yet graceful web of ropes and gear, a single whip wasvisible rigged to the fore yard arm. One end was led inboard, while theother ran along the yard through a block, and descended to the deck.This single rope thus disposed, told a story to the honest seamen, thatled their countenances to express the sorrow, nay, almost _fear_, thatwe have alluded
to. There was to be a fearful act accomplished, and theywere to be the agents.
‘I do not like this business at all,’ said Capt. Channing to Lovell.
‘I look upon it as an important duty,’ was the reply.
‘It may be so,’ said Channing, musing.
‘Unquestionably.’
‘And this poor fellow must be hanged?’ said the captain.
‘So we have decided,’ said Lovell.
‘It is a fearful thing, William, thus coolly to take a human life. Whowould have thought that mine would ever be the hand, or that I shouldever issue the order that should deprive a human being of life. Ideclare honestly to you that I am hardly equal to the cold bloodeddeed.’
‘Nay, courage, Fanny,’ said Lovell, (they were alone in the cabin,)‘you have done nobly thus far, now carry out the affair as it should bedone.’
‘And will this be a noble deed?’
‘It is always noble to do our duty.’
‘There is no reprieve, then?
‘I consider it as absolutely necessary for our safety. The fellow haseven declared that if he gets another opportunity he will do the samedeed over again. Is it safe then that he should live?’
‘The sentence is just,’ said Fanny.
‘Courage, Fanny, all will soon be over.’
‘Aye, but it is a fearful business. Lovell, do you realize it?’
‘I do, indeed, but think we have decided for the best.’
Overcoming all her woman’s feelings, Fanny summoned her wonted spirit,and ordered the prisoner to be brought before her. He soon made hisappearance, strongly bound, and led a couple of the crew. He was a noblespecimen of a man in his physical formation. Of good height, broad andfull across the chest, with heavy yet well formed limbs. His hair wasshort, black as jet, and curled closely to his head. He came in lookingsullenly down upon the cabin floor, resembling a lion at bay, his huge,muscular form expanding with rage at the feeling of his bonds. He stoodbefore the captain of the brig who sat in a large easy chair, while oneither side stood Lovell and Herbert.
It was a scene of strange and peculiar interest. There stood that hugeHercules of a man before that gentle hearted girl to be adjudged todeath. Her deep soul seemed to be reading the prisoner’s inmost thoughtsthrough the blue of her beautiful eye. Her voice did not tremble, herhand was firm, and she was a man at heart. The woman feeling which wasso lately called into action in her breast, was banished, and nothingsave stern justice might be expected to come from out those lips whichdisplayed at that moment a decision of purpose and character whichLovell had never marked there before.
‘Prisoner,’ said Fanny, in her low musical tone of voice, and yet withsingular distinctness, ‘do you know that my counsellors have decidedupon your death at the yard arm, within this very hour?’
‘I saw the whip rigged aloft, as I came along the deck,’ was the meaningreply of the prisoner.
‘Have you nothing to offer before we execute this resolve?’
‘Nothing,’ said the man, his eyes still bent upon the floor. ‘It wouldseem most probable that a person about to lose his life would have somewish to express. If you have any, speak them, and if they be reasonablethey shall be granted.’
‘I have none,’ was the reply.
‘Prisoner,’ continued Fanny, ‘have you no wife, children, of friends?’
Here she was interrupted by a groan from the Englishman, that showed shehad touched him upon a vulnerable point.
‘Speak, sir.’
‘I have both wife and children,’ he said, without raising his head fromhis breast, while his broad manly chest heaved with visible emotion.
‘And you have no reward to leave for them, no wish to express beforeyour execution?’ asked Fanny.
‘None! They will know that I died _loyal!_’
‘You have offered threats against this vessel and us, a second timesince your being again secured, I am told. Is this so?’
‘It is; the enemies of my king are the enemies of God, and I wouldpursue them to the last gasp. Thou art a rebel, sir Captain, and allthese about thee. Should they be spared if I could rid the king of them,by the loss of my own life? No!’ During all this time he had not evenlifted his head, but as if humbled by his bonds, his eyes still soughtthe floor.
‘Would you not embrace such a proposal,’ said Fanny, ‘as should restoreyour wife to your bosom, and your children to your arms.’
The man started--his Herculean proportions assuming an attitude thatwould have struck an artist with admiration. His head was erect, hiseyes bent eagerly upon the captain, and his form seemed to be at least ahalf a head taller than before. In a moment more his head dropped againas if the spirit that had actuated him for a moment had passed away,and he even doubted that he had heard aright. Relapsing into his formerstate, he made no reply to the question that had so moved him.
‘Say, prisoner,’ continued Fanny, ‘would you again see those you haveleft in your native land--your home, your wife and children, and thoseyou love?’
‘I shall meet them in Heaven,’ was the calm reply.
‘And is it loyalty to thy king that has incited thee to this mistakencourse?’ asked Fanny.
‘What else could actuate a British sailor?’
‘Unbind him!’ said Fanny to the guard, who stood by his side.
‘Do I command this vessel?’ asked Fanny, rising and drawing her nakedsword, and grasping it for action.
‘Certainly, sir.’ said one of the men, ‘but your honor, we------’
‘Do you hear, fellows? Unbind him!’
Lovell and Herbert were unprepared for this, and did not venture aword, while the guard did as they were ordered. In a moment more theEnglishman stood unbound, and at liberty before her, his fine manlyface evincing the utmost surprise, while he stood motionless withastonishment.
‘I think I have not mistaken you, sir, ‘said Fanny, addressing theprisoner, ‘and if I have read you aright, it best behoves us to holdconverse with such as thou art on _equal_ terms. You are now _free!_’
‘And to what end?’ asked the man in amazement.
‘I would _reason_ with you.’
‘I am attentive,’ said the Englishmen, evincing by his manner and speecha degree of refinement, that he had not before shown.
‘Dost thou know,’ asked Fanny, ‘of the oppression that has driventhe North American Colonies of Great Britain to the course they haveadopted? what flagrant wrongs they have endured; what servile anddebasing treatment they have suffered at the hands of the evil advisersof the king?’
‘I only know that the North American Colonies have rebelled againsttheir lawful king,’ said the Englishman, moodily.
‘You know not,’ continued Fanny, warming in her subject, as sheproceeded, her deep blue eyes sparkling with animation and spirit,‘of the sanctuarys defiled, of homes made desolate, the prostration oftrade, and the consequent distress of thousands! You know not that themessengers of the people have been spurned from the throne, thus addinginsult to injury?--Would it not belie our English origin to bear allthis tamely Should we be worthy the stock from whence we spring, did wenot resent them, and endeavor by our own right hands to obtain justice?’
‘You tell me news, indeed,’ said the Englishman, thoughtfully.
‘Let not this spirit of revenge live any longer in thy breast,’ saidFanny, ‘but consider first what has caused this resort to arms, andthen judge who is in the wrong. If it should seem to thee to be theColonists, do not disgrace thy nature by seeking revenge against them byany blood thirsty act; and if the King, then do not again lift your armagainst this people.’
‘I feel that I have erred!’ said the Englishman, nobly willing toacknowledge the wrong he had done.
‘So,’ said Fanny, ‘I know that I may trust you!’
The Englishman sprang forward, seized the extended hand of Fanny, andafter pressing it warmly, left the cabin without uttering a word.
Fanny in her ready wit and judgment, read somethin
g of the truecharacter of the prisoner, and after a little conversation, as we haveseen, she was strengthened in her supposition with regard to it. She hadrather resort to almost any expedient than that of the execution of theman, and to avert it she was willing to run some risk in the matter oftrusting him.
The treatment proved salutary. A stubborn spirit was conquered bykindness and reason, the only weapons that one responsible being shoulduse with another. The Englishman’s spirit had undergone a completechange; he would have lain down his life for the captain of theConstance; and from the hour of his liberation, was an ardent supporterof the cause of the American people, though he was never activelyengaged in the war. He did not betray the confidence that had been soplaced in him, but served faithfully as a common sailor to the end ofthe voyage.
There is a moral that we are tempted to put down here, simple perhaps,but a great one nevertheless, yet fearing the censure of the generalreader, who sometimes decries in no measured terms these moraldigressions, we leave the inference to which we have only alluded, forthe good judgment and discernment of the reader, but let us venture tourge its consideration.
Lovell was struck with the good judgment and ingenuity which Fanny haddisplayed in this trying case, and found therein a new trait of goodnessand understanding, to love and respect her for; and when they were againalone he asked her.
‘Why did you not tell me of this plan of action, dear Fanny; was I notdeemed worthy of the trust?
‘I had not entertained the idea beforehand, William; it was thepromptings of the moment, suggested by the noble bearing of the man,and the feeling and emotion he evinced at the mention of his home andfamily. It was easy enough to see then, William, that his heart was inthe right place, and susceptible to the influence of kindness.’
‘It could not have been better managed,’ said Lovell, ‘or more skill andjudgment of human nature displayed.’
‘I have relieved my heart of a heavy load of responsibility,’ saidFanny; ‘for the last few hours I have been quite miserable.’
‘You have done nobly, my dear girl.’
‘What, sir?’
‘I beg pardon--_sir_, I mean that your conduct is deserving of allpraise, Captain Channing,’ said Lovell, with a mock show of respect.
‘If you are not careful, William,’ said Fanny, ‘you will expose me tothe crew, and who knows what might be the consequence?’
‘True, true,’ said Lovell, ‘I will be all respect in future, depend uponmy discretion. But have you no fears or misgivings, Fanny, as to thegood faith of this man you have liberated?’
‘Not the least. I fear not to trust him with my life.’
‘Heaven grant him honest,’ said Lovell as they parted.
Fanny Campbell, The Female Pirate Captain: A Tale of The Revolution Page 6