Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XXXII. THE 'ATHOL' TENDER

  As I cast my eyes over these pages, and see how small a portion of mylife they embrace, I feel like one who, having a long journey beforehim, perceives that some more speedy means of travel must be adopted, ifhe ever hope to reach his destination. With the instinctive prosiness ofage I have lingered over the scenes of boyhood, a period which, strangeto say, is fresher in my memory than many of the events of few yearsback; and were I to continue my narrative as I have begun it, it wouldtake more time on my part, and more patience on that of my readers, thanare likely to be conceded to either of us. Were I to apologise to myreaders for any abruptness in my transitions, or any want of continuityin my story, I should perhaps inadvertently seem to imply a degree ofinterest in my fate which they have never felt; and, on the otherhand, I would not for a moment be thought to treat slightingly the verysmallest degree of favour they may feel disposed to show me. With thesedifficulties on either hand, I see nothing for it but to limit myselffor the future to such incidents and passages of my career as mostimpressed themselves on myself, and to confine my record to the eventsin which I personally took a share.

  Santron and I sailed from New York on the 9th of February, and arrivedin Liverpool on the 14th of March. We landed in as humble a guise asneed be. One small box contained all our effects, and a little leathernpurse, with something less than three dollars, all our available wealth.The immense movement and stir of the busy town, the din and bustleof trade, the roll of waggons, the cranking clatter of cranes andwindlasses, the incessant flux and reflux of population, all eager andintent on business, were strange spectacles to our eyes as we loiteredhouseless and friendless through the streets, staring in wonderment atthe wealth and prosperity of that land we were taught to believe wastottering to bankruptcy.

  Santron affected to be pleased with all--talked of the _beau pillage_ itwould afford one day or other; but in reality this appearance of richesand prosperity seemed to depress and discourage him. Both French andAmerican writers had agreed in depicting the pauperism and discontent ofEngland, and yet where were the signs of it? Not a house was untenanted,every street was thronged, every market filled; the equipages of thewealthy vied with the loaded waggons in number; and if there were notthe external evidences of happiness and enjoyment the gayer populationof other countries display, there was an air of well-being and comfortsuch as no other land could exhibit.

  Another very singular trait made a deep impression on us. Here werethese islanders with a narrow strait only separating them from a landbristling with bayonets. The very roar of the artillery at exercisemight be almost heard across the gulf, and yet not a soldier was tobe seen about! There were neither forts nor bastions. The harbour, soreplete with wealth, lay open and unprotected, not even a gunboat ora guardship to defend it! There was an insolence in this security thatSantron could not get over, and he muttered a prayer that the day mightnot be distant that should make them repent it.

  He was piqued with everything. While on board ship we had agreedtogether to pass ourselves for Canadians, to avoid all inquiries of theauthorities! Heaven help us! The authorities never thought of us. Wewere free to go or stay as we pleased. Neither police nor passportofficers questioned us. We might have been Hoche and Massena for aughtthey either knew or cared. Not a _mouchard_ tracked us; none even lookedafter us as we wont. To me this was all very agreeable and reassuring;to my companion it was contumely and insult. All the ingenious fictionhe had devised of our birth, parentage, and pursuits, was a fine romanceinedited, and he was left to sneer at the self-sufficiency that wouldnot take alarm at the advent of two ragged youths on the quay ofLiverpool.

  'If they but knew who we were, Maurice,' he kept continually mutteringas we went along--'if these fellows only knew whom they had in theirtown, what a rumpus it would create! How the shops would close! Whatbarricading of doors and windows we should see! What bursts of terrorand patriotism! _Par St. Denis_, I have a mind to throw up my cap in theair and cry '_Vive la Republique!_' just to witness the scene that wouldfollow.' With all these boastings, it was not very difficult to restrainmy friend's ardour, and to induce him to defer his invasion of Englandto a more fitting occasion, so that at last he was fain to contenthimself with a sneering commentary on all around him; and in thisamiable spirit we descended into a very dirty cellar to eat our firstdinner on shore.

  The place was filled with sailors, who, far from indulging in thewell-known careless gaiety of their class, seemed morose and sulky,talking together in low murmurs, and showing unmistakable signs ofdiscontent and dissatisfaction. The reason was soon apparent; thepressgangs were out to take men off to reinforce the blockading forcebefore Genoa, a service of all others the most distasteful to a seaman.If Santron at first was ready to flatter himself into the notion thatvery little persuasion would make these fellows take part againstEngland, as he listened longer he saw the grievous error of the opinion,no epithet of insult or contempt being spared by them when talking ofFrance and Frenchmen. Whatever national animosity prevailed at thatperiod, sailors enjoyed a high preeminence in feeling. I have heard thatthe spirit was encouraged by those in command, and that narrativesof French perfidy, treachery, and even cowardice, were the populartraditions of the sea-service. We certainly could not controvert theold adage as to 'listeners,' for every observation and every anecdoteconveyed a sneer or an insult on our country. There could be no reproachin listening to these unresented, but Santron assumed a most indignantair, and more than once affected to be overcome by a spirit ofrecrimination. What turn his actions might have taken in this wise Icannot even guess, for suddenly a rush of fellows took place up theladder, and in less than a minute the whole cellar was cleared, leavingnone but the hostess and an old lame waiter along with ourselves in theplace.

  'You've got a protection, I suppose, sirs,' said the woman, approachingus; 'but still I'll advise you not to trust to it overmuch; they're ingreat want of men just now, and they care little for law or justice whenonce they have them on the high-seas.'

  'We have no protection,' said I; 'we are strangers here, and know noone.'

  'There they come, sir; that's the tramp,' cried the woman; 'there'snothing for it now but to stay quiet and hope you 'll not be noticed.Take those knives up, will ye,' said she, flinging a napkin towards me,and speaking in an altered voice, for already two figures were darkeningthe entrance, and peering down into the depth below, while turning toSantron she motioned him to remove the dishes from the table--a servicein which, to do him justice, he exhibited a zeal more flattering to histact than his spirit of resistance.

  'Tripped their anchors already, Mother Martin?' said a large-whiskeredman, with a black belt round his waist; while, passing round the tables,he crammed into his mouth several fragments of the late feast.

  'You wouldn't have 'em wait for you, Captain John,' said she, laughing.

  'It's just what I would, then,' replied he. 'The Admiralty has putthirty shillings more on the bounty, and where will these fellows getthe like of that? It isn't a West India service, neither, nor a coastin'cruise off Newfoundland, but all as one as a pleasure-trip up theMediterranean, and nothing to fight but Frenchmen. Eh, younker, thattickles your fancy,' cried he to Santron, who, in spite of himself, madesome gesture of impatience.

  'Handy chaps, those, Mother Martin; where did you chance on'em?'

  'They're sons of a Canada skipper in the river yonder,' said she calmly.

  'They aren't over like to be brothers,' said he, with the grin of onetoo well accustomed to knavery to trust anything opposed to his ownobservation. 'I suppose them's things happens in Canada as elsewhere,'said he, laughing, and hoping the jest might turn her flank. Meanwhilethe press leader never took his eyes off me, as I arranged plates andfolded napkins with all the skill which my early education in Boivin'srestaurant had taught me.

  'He is a smart one,' said he, half musingly. 'I say, boy, would you liketo go as cook's aid on board a king's ship? I know of one as would justsuit you.'
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  'I'd rather not, sir; I'd not like to leave my father,' said I, backingup Mrs. Martin's narrative.

  'Nor that brother, there; wouldn't he like it?'

  I shook my head negatively.

  'Suppose I have a talk with the skipper about it,' said he, looking atme steadily for some seconds. 'Suppose I was to tell him what a goodberth you 'd have, eh?'

  'Oh, if he wished it, I'd make no objection,' said I, assuming all thecalmness I could.

  'That chap ain't your brother--and he's no sailor neither. Show me yourhands, youngster,' cried he to Santron, who at once complied with theorder, and the press captain bent over and scanned them narrowly. As hethus stood with his back to me, the woman shook her head significantly,and pointed to the ladder. If ever a glance conveyed a whole storyof terror hers did. I looked at my companion as though to say, 'Can Idesert him?' and the expression of her features seemed to imply utterdespair. This pantomime did not occupy half a minute. And now, withnoiseless step, I gained the ladder, and crept cautiously up it. Myfears were how to escape those who waited outside; but as I ascended Icould see that they were loitering about in groups, inattentive to allthat was going on below. The shame at deserting my comrade so nearlyovercame me, that, when almost at the top, I was about to turn backagain. I even looked round to see him; but, as I did so, I saw the pressleader draw a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and throw them on thetable. The instincts of safety were too strong, and with a spring Igained the street, and, slipping noiselessly along the wall, escaped the'lookout.' Without a thought of where I was going to, or what to do, Iran at the very top of my speed directly onwards, my only impulse beingto get away from the spot. Could I reach the open country I thoughtit would be my best chance. As I fled, however, no signs of a suburbappeared; the streets, on the contrary, grew narrower and moreintricate; huge warehouses, seven or eight storeys high, loomed ateither side of me; and at last, on turning an angle, a fresh sea-breezemet me, and showed that I was near the harbour. I avow that the sight ofshipping, the tall and taper spars that streaked the sky of night, theclank of chain-cables, and the heavy surging sound of the looming hulls,were anything but encouraging, longing as I did for the rustling leavesof some green lane; but still, all was quiet. A few flickering lightstwinkled here and there from a cabin window, but everything seemed sunkin repose.

  The quay was thickly studded with hogsheads and bales of merchandise, sothat I could easily have found a safe resting-place for the night, buta sense of danger banished all wish for sleep, and I wandered out,restless and uncertain, framing a hundred plans, and abandoning themwhen formed.

  So long as I kept company with Santron, I never thought of returning to'Uncle Pat'; my reckless spendthrift companion had too often avowedthe pleasure he would feel in quartering himself on my kind friend,dissipating his hard-earned gains, and squandering the fruits of all histoil. Deterred by such a prospect, I resolved rather never to revisithim than in such company. Now, however, I was again alone, and all myhopes and wishes turned towards him. A few hours' sail might again bringme beneath his roof, and once more should I find myself at home. Thethought was calming to all my excitement; I forgot every danger I hadpassed through, I lost all memory of every vicissitude I had escaped,and had only the little low parlour in the 'Black Pits' before my mind'seye, the wild, unweeded garden, and the sandy, sunny beach before thedoor. It was as though all that nigh a year had compassed had neveroccurred, and that my life at Crown Point and my return to England wereonly a dream. Sleep overcame me as I thus lay pondering, and when Iawoke the sun was glittering in the bright waves of the Mersey, a freshbreeze was flaunting and fluttering the half-loosened sails, andthe joyous sounds of seamen's voices were mingling with the clank ofcapstans, and the measured stroke of oars.

  It was full ten minutes after I awoke before I could remember how I camethere, and what had befallen me. Poor Santron, where is he now? was myfirst thought, and it came with all the bitterness of self-reproach.

  Could I have parted company with him under other circumstances, it wouldnot have grieved me deeply. His mocking, sarcastic spirit, the tone ofdepreciation which he used towards everything and everybody, had gonefar to sour me with the world, and day by day I felt within me theevil influences of his teachings. How different were they from poorGottfried's lessons, and the humble habits of those who lived beneaththem! Yet I was sorry, deeply sorry, that our separation should havebeen thus, and almost wished I had stayed to share his fate, whatever itmight be.

  While thus swayed by different impulses, now thinking of my old home atCrown Point, now of Uncle Pat's thatched cabin, and again of Santron, Istrolled down to the wharf, and found myself in a considerable crowd ofpeople, who were all eagerly pressing forward to witness the embarkationof several boatfuls of pressed seamen, who, strongly guarded and ironed,were being conveyed to the _Athol_ tender, a large three-master, about amile off, down the river. To judge from the cut faces and bandaged headsand arms, the capture had not been effected without resistance. Many ofthe poor fellows appeared more suited to a hospital than the duties ofactive service, and several lay with bloodless faces and white lips, thehandcuffed wrists seeming a very mockery of a condition so destitute ofall chance of resistance.

  The sympathies of the bystanders were very varied regarding them. Somewere full of tender pity and compassion; some denounced the system asa cruel 'and oppressive tyranny; others deplored it as an unhappynecessity; and a few well-to-do-looking old citizens, in drab shortsand wide-brimmed hats, grew marvellously indignant at the recreantpoltroonery of 'the scoundrels who were not proud to fight theircountry's battles.'

  As I was wondering within myself how it happened that men thus coercedcould ever be depended on in moments of peril and difficulty, andby what magic the mere exercise of discipline was able to merge thefeelings of the man in the sailor, the crowd was rudely driven back bypolicemen, and a cry of 'Make way,' 'Fall back there,' given. In thesudden retiring of the mass I found myself standing on the very edgeof the line along which a new body of impressed men were about to pass.Guarded front, flank, and rear, by a strong party of marines, the poorfellows came along slowly enough. Many were badly wounded, and walkedlamely; some were bleeding profusely from cuts on the face and temples;and one, at the very tail of the procession, was actually carried ina blanket by four sailors. A low murmur ran through the crowd at thespectacle, which gradually swelled louder and fuller till it burst forthinto a deep groan of indignation, and a cry of 'Shame I Shame!' Too muchused to such ebullitions of public feeling, or too proud to care forthem, the officer in command of the party never seemed to hear the angrycries and shouts around him; and I was even more struck by his coolself-possession than by their enthusiasm. For a moment or two I wasconvinced that a rescue would be attempted. I had no conception that somuch excitement could evaporate innocuously, and was preparing myselfto take part in the struggle when the line halted as the leading filesgained the stairs, and, to my wonderment, the crowd became hushed andstill. Then, one burst of excited pity over, not a thought occurred toany to offer resistance to the law, or dare to oppose the constitutedauthorities. How unlike Frenchmen! thought I; nor am I certain whether Ideemed the disparity to their credit!

  'Give him a glass of water!' I heard the officer say, as he leaned overthe litter; and the crowd at once opened to permit some one to fetchit. Before I believed it were possible to have procured it, a tumbler ofwater was passed from hand to hand till it reached mine, and, steppingforwards, I bent down to give it to the sick man. The end of a coarsesheet was thrown over his face, and as it was removed I almost fell overhim, for it was Santron. His face was covered with a cold sweat, whichlay in great drops all over it, and his lips were slightly frothed. Ashe looked up I could see that he was just rallying from a fainting-fit,and could mark in the change that came over his glassy eye that he hadrecognised me. He made a faint effort at a smile, and, in a voice barelya whisper, said, 'I knew thou'd not leave me, Maurice.'

  'You are his countryman?'
said the officer, addressing me in French.

  'Yes, sir,' was my reply.

  'You are both Canadians, then?'

  'Frenchmen, sir, and officers in the service. We only landed from anAmerican ship yesterday, and were trying to make our way to France.'

  'I'm sorry for you,' said he compassionately; 'nor do I know how to helpyou. Come on board the tender, however, and we'll see if they'll notgive you a passage with your friend to the Nore. I'll speak to mycommanding officer for you.'

  This scene all passed in a very few minutes, and before I well knew howor why, I found myself on board of a ship's longboat, sweeping alongover the Mersey, with Santron's head in my lap, and his cold, clammyfingers grasped in mine. He was either unaware of my presence or tooweak to recognise me, for he gave no sign of knowing me; and during ourbrief passage down the river, and when lifted up the ship's side, seemedtotally insensible to everything.

  The scene of uproar, noise, and confusion on board the _Athol_ isfar beyond my ability to convey. A shipwreck, a fire, and mutiny, allcombined, could scarcely have collected greater elements of discord. Twolarge detachments of marines, many of whom, fresh from furlough, weretoo drunk for duty, and were either lying asleep along the deck, orriotously interfering with everybody; a company of Sappers _en route_to Woolwich, who would obey none but their own officer, and he was stillashore; detachments of able-bodied seamen from the _Jupiter_, full ofgrog and prize-money; four hundred and seventy impressed men, cursing,blaspheming, and imprecating every species of calamity on their captors;added to which, a crowd of Jews, bumboat women, and slop-sellers of allkinds, with the crews of two ballast-lighters, fighting for additionalpay, being the chief actors in a scene whose discord I neversaw equalled. Drunkenness, suffering, hopeless misery, and eveninsubordination, all lent their voices to a tumult, amid which the wordsof command seemed lost, and all effort at discipline vain.

  How we were ever to go to sea in this state, I could not even imagine.The ship's crew seemed inextricably mingled with the rioters, many ofwhom were just sufficiently sober to be eternally meddling with theship's tackle; belaying what ought to be 'free,' and loosening whatshould have been 'fast'; getting their fingers jammed in blocks, andtheir limbs crushed by spars, till the cries of agony rose highabove every other confusion. Turning with disgust from a spectacle sodiscordant and disgraceful, I descended the ladders, which led, by manya successive flight, into the dark, low-ceilinged chamber called the'sick bay,' where poor Santron was lying in, what I almost envied,insensibility to the scene around him. A severe blow from the hilt of acutlass had caused a concussion of the brain, and, save in the momentaryexcitement which a sudden question might cause, left him totallyunconscious. His head had been already shaved before I descended, andI found the assistant-surgeon, an Irishman, Mr. Peter Colhayne,experimenting a new mode of cupping as I entered. By some mischanceof the machinery, the lancets of the cupping instrument had remainedpermanently fixed, refusing to obey the spring, and standing allstraight outside the surface. In this dilemma, Peter's ingenuity sawnothing for it but to press them down vigorously into the scalp, andthen saw them backwards the whole length of the head--a performance theoriginality of which, in all probability, was derived from the operationof a harrow in agriculture. He had just completed a third track when Icame in, and, by great remonstrance and no small flattery, induced himto desist. 'We have glasses,' said he, 'but they were all broke inthe cock-pit; but a tin porringer is just as good.' And so saying, helighted a little pledget of tow, previously steeped in turpentine, and,popping it into the tin vessel, clapped it on the head. This was meantto exhaust the air within, and thus draw the blood to the surface--ascientific process he was good enough to explain most minutely for mybenefit, and the good results of which he most confidently vouched for.

  'They've a hundred new conthrivances,' said Mr. Colhayne, 'for doingthat simple thing ye see there. They've pumps, and screws, and hydraulicdevilments as much complicated as a watch that's always getting out oforder and going wrong; but with that ye'll see what good 'twill do him;he'll he as lively as a lark in ten minutes.'

  The prophecy was destined to a perfect fulfilment, for poor Santron, wholay motionless and unconscious up to that moment, suddenly gave signsof life by moving his features, and jerking his limbs to this side andthat. The doctor's self-satisfaction took the very proudest form. Heexpatiated on the grandeur of medical science, the wonderful advancementit was making, and the astonishing progress the curative art had madeeven within his own time. I must own that I should have lent a moreimplicit credence to this paean if I had not waited for the removalof the cupping-vessel, which, instead of blood, contained merely thecharred ashes of the burnt tow, while the scalp beneath it presenteda blackened, seared aspect, like burnt leather. Such was literallythe effect of the operation; but as from that period the patient begansteadily to improve, I must leave to more scientific inquirers the taskof explaining through what agency, and on what principles.

  Santron's condition, although no longer dangerous, presented little hopeof speedy recovery. His faculties were clouded and obscured, and themere effort at recognition seemed to occasion him great subsequentdisturbance. Colhayne, who, whatever may have been his scientificdeficiencies, was good-nature and kindness itself, saw nothing for himbut removal to Haslar, and we now only waited for the ship's arrival atthe Nore to obtain the order for his transmission.

  If the _Athol_ was a scene of the wildest confusion and uproar whenwe tripped our anchor, we had not been six hours at sea when all was apicture of order and propriety. The decks were cleared of every onenot actually engaged in the ship's working, or specially permitted toremain; ropes were coiled, boats hauled up, sails trimmed, hatches down,sentinels paced the deck in appointed places, and all was discipline andregularity. From the decorous silence that prevailed, none could havesupposed so many hundred living beings were aboard, still less, thatthey were the same disorderly mob who sailed from the Mersey a few shorthours before. From the surprise which all this caused me I was speedilyaroused by an order more immediately interesting, being summoned onthe poop-deck to attend the general muster. Up they came from holes andhatchways, a vast host, no longer brawling and insubordinate, but quiet,submissive, and civil. Such as were wounded had been placed under thedoctor's care, and all those now present were orderly and servicelike.With a very few exceptions they were all sailors, a few having alreadyserved in a king's ship. The first lieutenant, who first inspectedus, was a grim, greyheaded man past the prime of life, with featureshardened by disappointment and long service, but who still retained anexpression of kindliness and good-nature. His duty he despatched withall the speed of long habit--read the name, looked at the bearer of it,asked a few routine questions, and then cried 'Stand by,' even ere theanswers were finished. When he came to me he said--

  'Abraham Hackett. Is that your name, lad?'

  'No, sir. I 'm called Maurice Tiernay.'

  'Tiernay, Tiernay,' said he a couple of times over. 'No such name here.'

  'Where's Tiernay's name, Cottle?' asked he of a subordinate behind him.

  The fellow looked down the list--then at me--then at the list again--andthen back to me, puzzled excessively by the difficulty, but not seeinghow to explain it.

  'Perhaps I can set the matter right, sir,' said I. 'I came aboard alongwith a wounded countryman of mine--the young Frenchman who is now in thesick bay.'

  'Ay, to be sure; I remember all about it now,' said the lieutenant, 'Youcall yourselves French officers?' 'And such are we, sir.'

  'Then how the devil came ye here? Mother Martin's cellar is, to say theleast of it, an unlikely spot to select as a restaurant.'

  'The story is a somewhat long one, sir.'

  'Then I haven't time for it, lad,' he broke in. 'We've rather too muchon hand just now for that. If you 've got your papers, or anything toprove what you assert, I'll land you when I come into the Downs, andyou'll, of course, be treated as your rank in the service requires. Ifyou have not, I mus
t only take the responsibility on myself to regardyou as an impressed man. Very hard, I know, but can't help it. Standby.'

  These few words were uttered with a most impetuous speed; and as allreply to them was impossible, I saw my case decided and my fate decreed,even before I knew they were under litigation.

  As we were marched forwards to go below, I overheard an officer say toanother--

  'Hay will get into a scrape about those French fellows; they may turnout to be officers, after all.'

  'What matter?' cried the other. 'One is dying; and the other Hay meansto draft on board the _Temeraire_. Depend upon it, we'll never hear moreof either of them.'

  This was far from pleasant tidings; and yet I knew not any remedy forthe mishap. I had never seen the officer who spoke to me ashore since wecame on board. I knew of none to intercede for me; and as I sat down onthe bench beside poor Santron's cot, I felt my heart lower than ithad ever been before. I was never enamoured of the sea-service; andcertainly the way to overcome my dislike was not by engaging againstmy own country; and yet this, in all likelihood, was now to be my fate.These were my last waking thoughts the first night I passed on board the_Athol_.