Фредерик Марриет
The Privateersman
“Now for the privateer—she is our own,” cried Philip; “follow me, my men,” continued he, as he sprang upon the bulwarks of the prize, and from thence into the main rigging of the lugger alongside.
Most of my men followed him; and as there were but few men left on board of the lugger, she was soon in our possession, and thus we had both the enemy and the prize without firing a cannon-shot. It was strange that this combat between two privateers should thus be decided upon the deck of another vessel, but such was the fact. We had several men badly wounded, but not one killed. The French were not quite so fortunate, as seven of their men lay dead upon the decks. The prize proved to be the Antelope West-Indiaman, laden with sugar and rum, and of considerable value. We gave her up to the captain and crew, who had at afforded us such timely assistance, and they were not a little pleased at being thus rescued from a French prison. The privateer was named the Jean Bart, of twelve guns, and one hundred and fifteen men, some away in prizes. She was a new vessel, and this her first cruise. As it required many men to man her, and we had the prisoners to encumber us, I resolved that I would take her to Liverpool at once; and six days afterwards we arrived there without further adventure. Philip’s gallant conduct had won him great favour with my officers and men, and I must say that I felt very proud of him.
As soon as we had anchored both vessels, I went on shore with Philip to Mr Trevannion’s to give him an account of what had occurred during the short cruise, and I hardly need say that he was satisfied with the results, as we had made three recaptures of value besides a privateer. I introduced Philip to him, acquainting him with his miraculous preservation, and Mr Trevannion very kindly invited him for the present to remain in his house. We then took our leave, promising to be back by dinner-time, and I went with Philip to fit him out in a more creditable way; and having made my purchases and given my orders, (it being then almost two o’clock post meridiem,) we hastened to Mr Trevannion’s, that we might be in time for dinner. I was, I must confess, anxious to see Miss Trevannion, for she had often occupied my thoughts during the cruise. She met me with great friendliness and welcomed me back. Our dinner was very agreeable, and Philip’s sallies were much approved of. He was, indeed, a mirthful, witty lad, full of jest and humour, and with a good presence withal. Mr Trevannion being called out just as dinner was finished, Miss Trevannion observed—“I presume, Mr Elrington, that your good fortune and the reputation you have acquired in so short a time, have put an end to all your misgivings as to a privateersman’s life?”
“I am not quite so light and inconstant, Miss Trevannion,” replied I; “I rejoice that in this cruise I have really nothing to lament or blush for, and trust at the same time we have been serviceable to our country; but my opinion is the same, and I certainly wish that I had fought under the king’s pennant instead of on board of a privateer.”
“You are, then, of the same mind, and intend to resign the command?”
“I do, Miss Trevannion, although I admit that this lad’s welfare makes it more important than ever that I should have some means of livelihood.”
“I rejoice to hear you speak thus, Mr Elrington, and I think my father’s obligations to you are such, that if he does not assist you, I should feel ashamed of him—but such I am certain will not be the case. He will forward your views, whatever they may be, to the utmost of his power—at the same time, I admit, from conversations I have had with him, that he will be mortified at your resigning the command.”
“And so shall I,” said Philip, “for I do not agree with you or my brother: I see no more harm in privateering than in any other fighting: I suppose, Miss Trevannion, you have been the cause of my brother’s scruples, and I tell you candidly to your face, that I do not thank you for it.”
Miss Trevannion coloured up at this remark, and then replied, “I do not think, Mr Philip, that I have had the pleasure of seeing your brother more than three times in my life, and that within this last six weeks, and sure I am that we have not had a quarter of an hour’s conversation altogether. It is, therefore, assuredly, too much to say that I am the cause, and your brother will tell you that he expressed these opinions before I ever had had any conversation with him.”
“That may be,” replied Philip, “but you approved of his sentiments, and that concluded the business, I am sure, and I don’t wonder at it. I only hope that you won’t ask me to do anything I do not wish to do; for I am sure that I could never refuse you anything.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Mr Philip; for if I see you do that which I think wrong, I shall certainly try my influence over you,” replied Miss Trevannion, smiling. “I really was not aware that I had such power.”
Here Mr Trevannion came in again, and the conversation was changed; and shortly afterwards Miss Trevannion left the room. Philip, who was tired of sitting while Mr Trevannion and I took our pipes, and who was anxious to see the town, also left us; and I then stated to Mr Trevannion that having now completed the cruise which I had agreed that I would, I wished to know whether he had provided himself with another captain.
“As you appear so determined, my dear Elrington, I will only say that I am very sorry, and will not urge the matter any longer. My daughter told me since your absence that she was certain you would adhere to your resolution; and, although I hoped the contrary, yet I have been considering in which way I can serve you. It is not only my pleasure but my duty so to do; I have not forgotten, and never will forget, that you in all probability saved my life by your self-devotion in the affair of the Jacobites. When you first came to me, you were recommended as a good accountant, and, to a certain degree, a man of business; and, at all events, you proved yourself well acquainted and apt at figures. Do you think that a situation on shore would suit you?”
“I should endeavour to give satisfaction, Sir,” I replied; “but I fear that I should have much to learn.”
“Of course you would; but I reply that you would soon learn. Now, Elrington, what I have to say to you is this: I am getting old, and in a few years shall be past work; and I think I should like you as an assistant for the present, and a successor hereafter. If you would like to join me, you shall superintend the more active portion of the business; and I have no doubt but that in a year or two you will be master of the whole. As you know, I have privateers and I have merchant vessels, and I keep my storehouses. I have done well up to the present; not so well, perhaps, now, as I did when I had slave-vessels, which were most profitable; but my deceased wife persuaded me to give up that traffic, and I have not resumed it, in honour of her memory. These foolish women should never interfere in such matters; but let that pass. What I have to say is, that if you choose after a year to join me as a partner, I will give you an eighth of the business, and as we continue I will make over a further share in proportion to the profits; and I will make such arrangements as to enable you at my death to take the whole concern upon favourable terms.”
Mr Trevannion knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, as he concluded,—“I am,” I replied, “as you may imagine, Sir, much gratified and honoured at your proposal, which I hardly need say that I willingly accept. I only hope you will make allowance for my ignorance at first setting off, and not ascribe to any other cause my imperfections. You may assure yourself that good-will shall never be wanting on my part, and I shall work day and night, if required, to prove my gratitude for so kind an offer.”
“Then, it is settled,” said Mr Trevannion; “but what are we to do with your brother Philip?”
“He thinks for himself, Sir, and does not agree with me on the question in point. Of course, I have no right to insist that my scruples should be his; indeed, I fear that I should have little chance in persuading him, as he is so fond of a life of adventure. It is natural in one so young. Age will sober him.”
“Then you have no objection to his going on board of a privateer?”
“I would rather that he was in any other service, Sir; but as I cannot control him I must submit, if he insist upon following that profession. He is a gallant, clever boy, and as soon as I can, I will try to procure him a situation in a king’s ship. At present he must go to sea in some way or the other, and it were, perhaps, better that he should be in good hands (such as Captain Levee’s for instance) on board of a privateer, than mix up with those who might demoralise him more.”
“Well, then, he shall have his choice,” replied Mr Trevannion. “He is a smart lad, and will do you credit wherever he may be.”
“If I may take the liberty to advise, Sir,” replied I, “I think you could not do better than to give the command of the Sparrow-hawk to the chief officer, Mr James; he is a good seaman and a brave man, and I have no doubt will acquit himself to your satisfaction.”
“I was thinking the same; and as you recommend him he shall take your place. Now, as all this is settled, you may as well go on board and make known that you have resigned the command. Tell Mr James that he is to take your place. Bring your clothes on shore, and you will find apartments ready for you on your return, for in future you will of course consider this house as your residence. I assure you that, now that you do not leave me, I am almost glad that the affair is arranged as it is. I wanted assistance, that is the fact, and I hold myself fortunate that you are the party who has been selected. We shall meet in the evening.”
Mr Trevannion then went away in the direction of his daughter’s room instead of the counting-house as usual, and I quitted the house. I did not go immediately down to the wharf to embark. I wanted to have a short time for reflection, for I was much overpowered with Mr Trevannion’s kindness, and the happy prospects before me. I walked out into the country for some distance, deep in my own reflections, and I must say that Miss Trevannion was too often interfering with my train of thought.
I had of course no fixed ideas, but I more than once was weighing in my mind whether I should not make known to them who I was, and how superior in birth to what they imagined. After an hour passed in building castles, I retraced my steps, passed through the town, and, going down to the wharf, waved my handkerchief for a boat, and was soon on board. I then summoned the officers and men, told them that I had resigned the command of the vessel, and that in future they were to consider Mr James as their captain. I packed up my clothes, leaving many articles for my successor which were no longer of any use to me, but which he would have been compelled to replace.
Philip I found was down in the cabin, and with him I had a long conversation, he stated his wish to remain at sea, saying that he preferred a privateer to a merchant vessel, and a king’s ship to a privateer. Not being old enough, or sufficient time at sea to be eligible for a king’s ship, I agreed that he should sail with Captain Levee, as soon as he came back from his cruise. He had already sent in a good prize. As soon as my clothes and other articles were put into the boat, I wished them all farewell, and was cheered by the men as I pulled on shore.
My effects were taken up to Mr Trevannion’s house by the seamen, to whom I gave a gratuity, and I was met by Mr Trevannion, who showed me into a large and well-furnished bed-room, which he told me was in future to be considered as my own. I passed away the afternoon in arranging my clothes, and did not go down to the parlour till supper-time, where I found Miss Trevannion, who congratulated me upon my having changed my occupation to one more worthy of me. I made a suitable reply, and we sat down to supper. Having described this first great event in my life, I shall for the present conclude.
Chapter Thirteen
After staying a year with him, Mr Trevannion proposes to take me into Partnership, but I decline the offer from conscientious motives—Miss Trevannion treats me with unmerited coldness—This and her Father’s anger make me resolve to quit the House—What I overhear and see before my departure—The Ring
You may now behold me in a very different position, my dear Madam; instead of the laced hat and hanger at my side, imagine me in a plain suit of grey with black buttons, and a pen behind my ear; instead of walking the deck and balancing to the motion of the vessel, I am now perched immoveably upon a high stool; instead of sweeping the horizon with my telescope, or watching the straining and bending of the spars aloft, I am now with my eyes incessantly fixed upon the ledger or day-book, absorbed in calculation. You may inquire how I liked the change. At first, I must confess, not over-much, and, notwithstanding my dislike to the life of a privateersman, I often sighed heavily, and wished that I were an officer in the king’s service. The change from a life of activity to one of sedentary habits was too sudden, and I often found myself, with my eyes still fixed upon the figures before me, absorbed in a sort of castle-building reverie, in which I was boarding or chasing the enemy, handling my cutlass, and sometimes so moved by my imagination as to brandish my arm over my head, when an exclamation of surprise from one of the clerks would remind me of my folly, and, angry with myself; I would once more resume my pen. But after a time I had more command over myself; and could sit steadily at my work. Mr Trevannion had often observed how absent I was, and it was a source of amusement to him; when we met at dinner, his daughter would say, “So I hear you had another sea-fight this morning, Mr Elrington;” and her father would laugh heartily as he gave a description of my ridiculous conduct.
I very soon, with the kind assistance of Mr Trevannion, became master of my work, and gave him satisfaction. My chief employment consisted in writing the letters to correspondents. At first I only copied Mr Trevannion’s letters in his private letter-book; but as I became aware of the nature of the correspondence, and what was necessary to be detailed, I then made a rough copy of the letters, and submitted them to Mr Trevannion for his approval. At first there were a few alterations made, afterwards I wrote them fairly out, and almost invariably they gave satisfaction, or, if anything was added, it was in a postscript. Mr Trevannion’s affairs, I found, were much more extensive than I had imagined. He had the two privateers, two vessels on the coast of Africa trading for ivory and gold-dust and other articles, two or three vessels employed in trading to Virginia for tobacco and other produce, and some smaller vessels engaged in the Newfoundland fisheries, which, when they had taken in their cargo, ran to the Mediterranean to dispose of it, and returned with Mediterranean produce to Liverpool. That he was a very wealthy man, independent of his large stakes upon the seas, was certain. He had lent much money to the guild of Liverpool, and had some tenanted properties in the county; but of them I knew nothing, except from the payment of the rents. What surprised me much was, that a man of Mr Trevannion’s wealth, having but one child to provide for, should not retire from business—and I once made the remark to his daughter. Her reply was: “I thought as you do once, but now I think differently. When I have been on a visit with my father, and he has stayed away for several weeks, you have no idea how restless and uneasy he has become from want of occupation. It has become his habit, and habit is second nature. It is not from a wish to accumulate that he continues at the counting-house, but because he cannot be happy without employment. I, therefore, do not any longer persuade him to leave off, as I am convinced that it would be persuading him to be unhappy. Until you came, I think the fatigue was too great for him; but you have, as he apprises me, relieved him of the heaviest portion of the labour, and I hardly need say that I am rejoiced that you have so done.”
“It certainly is not that he requires to make money, Miss Trevannion; and, as he is so liberal in everything, I must credit what you assert, that it is the dislike to having no employment which induces him to continue in business. It has not yet become such a habit in me,” continued I, smiling; “I think I could leave it off with great pleasure.”
“But is not that because you have not yet recovered from your former habits, which were so at variance with a quiet and a sedentary life?” replied she.
“I fear it is so,” said I, “and I believe, of all habits, those of a vagrant are the most difficult to overcome. You used to laugh at me the first few months that I was here. I presume that I am a little improved, as I have not been attacked lately?”
“My father says so, and is much pleased with you, Mr Elrington, if my telling you so gives you any satisfaction.”
“Certainly it does, because I wish to please him.”
“And me, too, I hope?”
“Yes, most truly, Miss Trevannion; I only wish I had it in my power to show how much I study your good opinion.”
“Will you risk my father’s displeasure for it?” replied she, looking at me fixedly.
“Yes, I will, provided—”
“Oh! There is a proviso already.”
“I grant that there should not have been any, as I am sure that you would not ask me to do anything which is wrong. And my proviso was, that I did not undertake what my conscience did not approve.”
“Your proviso was good, Mr Elrington, for when a woman would persuade, a man should be particularly guarded that he is not led into error by a rash promise. I think, however, that we are both agreed upon the point. I will therefore come at once to what I wish you to do. It is the intention of my father, in the course of a few days, when you shall have accomplished your year of service, to offer to take you into partnership; and I am certain it will be on liberal terms. Now I wish you to refuse his offer unless he gives up privateering.”
“I will do so at all risks, and I am truly glad that I have your encouragement for taking such a bold step.”
“I tell you frankly that he will be very indignant. There is an excitement about the privateering which has become almost necessary to him, and he cares little about the remainder of his speculations. He is so blind to the immorality to which it leads, that he does not think it is an unlawful pursuit; if he did, I am sure that he would abandon it. All my persuasion has been useless.”
“And if a favourite and only daughter cannot prevail, what chance have I, Miss Trevannion?”
“A better chance, Mr Elrington; he is partial to me, but I am a woman, and he looks upon my observations as a woman’s weakness. The objections raised by a man, a young man, and one who has so long been actively engaged in the service, will, therefore, carry more weight; besides, he has now become so accustomed to you, and has had so much trouble taken off his hands, and, at the same time, has such implicit confidence in you, that I do not think, if he finds that he has to choose between your leaving him and his leaving off privateering, he will hesitate in relinquishing the latter. You have, moreover, great weight with him, Mr Elrington; my father is fully aware of the deep obligation he is under to your courage and self-devotion in the affair of the Jacobite refugees. You will, therefore, succeed, if you are firm; and, if you do succeed, you will have my gratitude, if that is of any importance to you; my friendship you know you have already.”
The entrance of Mr Trevannion prevented my reply. We had been waiting for his return from a walk, and dinner had been ready some time. “I have just seen some of the men of the Arrow,” said Mr Trevannion, taking off his hat and spencer, “and that detained me.”
“Has Captain Levee arrived, then, Sir?” said I.
“No; but he has sent in a prize—of no great value—laden with light wares. The men in charge tell me he has had a rough affair with a vessel armed en flute, and that he has lost some men. Your brother Philip, as usual, is wounded.”
I should here observe, that during the year which had passed away the two privateers had been several times in port—they had met with moderate success, barely sufficient to pay their expenses; my brother Philip had always conducted himself very gallantly, and had been twice wounded in different engagements.
“Well, Sir,” replied I, “I do not think that the loss of a little blood will do any harm to such a hot-headed youth as Master Philip; but I hope in a short time to give him an opportunity of shedding it in the service of the king, instead of in the pursuit of money. Indeed,” continued I, as I sat down to table, “the enemy are now so cautious, or have so few vessels on the high seas, that I fear your privateering account current will not be very favourable, when balanced, as it will be in a few days, notwithstanding this cargo of wares just arrived.”
“Then we must hope better for next year,” replied Mr Trevannion. “Amy, my dear, have you been out to-day?”
“Yes, Sir; I was riding for two hours.”
“Have they altered your pillion yet?”
“Yes, Sir; it came home last night, and it is now very comfortable.”
“I called at Mrs Carleton’s, who is much better. What a fop that Mr Carleton is—I don’t know what scented powder he uses, but it perfumed the whole room. Had not Mrs Carleton been such an invalid, I should have opened the window.”
Mr Trevannion then turned the conversation to some political intelligence which he had just received, and this engaged us till the dinner was over, and I returned to the counting-house, where I found the men who had brought in the prize, and who gave me a letter from Philip, stating that his wound was of no consequence.
The communication of Mr Trevannion took place, as his daughter had assured me it would, on the anniversary of my entering into Mr Trevannion’s counting-house. After dinner, as we, as usual, were smoking our pipes, Mr Trevannion said: “Elrington, you have been with me now one year, and during that time you have made yourself fully master of your business;—much to my surprise, I acknowledge, but still more to my satisfaction. That I have every reason to be satisfied with you, you may imagine, when I tell you that it is now my intention to take you into partnership, and I trust by my so doing that you will soon be an independent man. You know the capital in the business as well as I do. I did say an eighth, but I now propose to make ever to you one-fourth, and to allow your profits of every year (deducting your necessary expenses) to be invested in the business, until you have acquired a right to one half. Of future arrangements we will speak hereafter.”
“Mr Trevannion,” replied it, “that I am truly grateful for such unexpected liberality I hardly need say, and you have my best thanks for your noble offer; but I have scruples which, I must confess, I cannot get over.”
“Scruples!” exclaimed Mr Trevannion, laying down his pipe on the table. “Oh! I see now,” continued he, after a pause; “you think I am robbing my daughter. No, no, the labourer is worthy of his hire, and she will have more than sufficient. You carry your conscientiousness too far, my dear fellow; I have more than enough for Amy, out of the business altogether.”
“I am aware of that, Sir,” added I, “and I did not, therefore, refer to your daughter when I said that I had scruples. I must be candid with you, Sir. How is it that I am now in your employ?”
“Why, because you had a dislike to privateering, and I had a debt of gratitude to pay.”
“Exactly, Sir; but whether you had been pleased to employ me or not, I had made up my mind, as you well know, from conscientious motives, not to continue on board of a privateer.”
“Well, I grant that.”
“The same motives, Sir, will not allow me to be a sharer in the profits arising from such sources. I should consider myself equally wrong if I did so, as if I remained on board. Do not be angry with me, Sir,” continued I; “if I, with many thanks, decline your offer of being your partner, I will faithfully serve you upon any salary which you may consider I may merit, and trust to your liberality in everything.”
Mr Trevannion made no reply; he had resumed his pipe, and continued to smoke it, with his eyes fixed upon the mantel-piece. As soon as his pipe was out, he rose, put on his hat, and walked out of the room, without making any further observation. I waited a few minutes, and then went back to the counting-house.
That Mr Trevannion was seriously offended I was convinced; but I valued the good opinion of his daughter more than I did that of Mr Trevannion; indeed, my feelings towards her had, during the year that I had been in the house, gradually become of that nature that they threatened much my peace of mind. I cannot say that I loved her in the usual acceptation of the term,—adoration would better express what I felt. She was so pure, so perfect, such a model of female perfection, that I looked up to her with a reverence which almost quelled any feeling of love. I felt that she was above me, and that, with her wealth, it would be madness for one in my present position to aspire to her. Yet with this feeling I would have sacrificed all my hopes and present advantages to have obtained her approving smiles. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that I risked Mr Trevannion’s displeasure to gain her approbation; and when I resumed my seat at my desk, and thought of what had passed, I made up my mind to be once more an outcast in the world rather than swerve from the promise which I had made to her. I knew Mr Trevannion to be a very decided man, and hasty when offended. That he was seriously offended with me there was no doubt. I found that he had quitted the house immediately after he had left the room. I had hoped that he had gone to his daughter’s apartments, and that a conversation with her might have produced a good effect; but such was not the case.
In about half an hour Mr Trevannion returned, and as he walked into the back room adjoining the counting-house, he desired me to follow him. I did so. “Mr Elrington,” said he, sitting down, and leaving me standing at the table, “I fear, after what has passed, that we shall not continue on good terms. You have reproached me, an old man, with carrying on an unlawful business; in short, in raising your own scruples and talking of your own conscience, you have implied that I am acting contrary to what conscience should dictate. In short, you have told me, by implication, that I am not an honest man. You have thrown back in my face my liberal offer. My wish to oblige you has been treated not only with indifference, but I may add with contumely;—and that merely because you have formed some absurd notions of right and wrong in which you will find no one to agree with you, except, perhaps, priests and women. I wish you well, Mr Elrington, nevertheless. I am truly sorry for your infatuation, and wished to have served you, but you will not be assisted by me.”
Here Mr Trevannion paused, but I made no reply. After a time, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief, for he evidently was in a state of great excitement, he continued:
“As you do not choose to join me from conscientious scruples, I cannot but imagine that you do not like to serve me from similar motives, for I see little difference between the two (and here, Madam, there was some force in his observation, but it never occurred to me before); at all events, without weighing your scruples so exactly as to know how far they may or may not extend, I feel that we are not likely to get on pleasantly together. I shall always think that I am reproached by you when anything is said connected with the privateers, and you may have twinges of conscience which may be disagreeable to you. Let us, therefore, part quietly. For your services up to the present, and to assist you in any other engagements you may enter on, take this—”
Mr Trevannion opened a lower drawer of the table, and put before me a bag containing, as I afterwards discovered, 250 gold jacobuses.
“I wish you well, Mr Elrington, but I sincerely wish that we had never met.”
Mr Trevannion then rose abruptly, and, before I could make my reply, brushed past me, went out at the door, and again walked away at a rapid pace down the street. I remained where I stood; my eyes had followed him as he went away. I was completely surprised. I anticipated much anger, much altercation; but I never had an idea that he would be so unjust as to throw off in this way one who for his sake had gone through a heavy trial and come out with honour. My heart was full of bitterness. I felt that Mr Trevannion had treated me with harshness and ingratitude.
“Alas!” thought I, “such is the world, and such will ever be the case with such imperfect beings as we are. How vain to expect anything like consistency, much less perfection, in our erring natures! Hurt but the self-love of a man, wound his vanity, and all obligations are forgotten.”
I turned away from the bag of money, which I was resolved not to accept, although I had not at the time twenty guineas at my own disposal. It was now within half an hour of dark; I collected all my books, put some in the iron safe, others as usual in my desk, and having arranged everything as completely as I could, I locked the safe, and enclosed the keys in a parcel, which I sealed. Putting Mr Trevannion’s name on the outside, I laid the parcel on the table in the room where we had had our conference, by the side of the bag of money.
It was now dark, or nearly so, and leaving the confidential porter, as usual, to shut up the house, I went up to the sitting-room with the expectation of seeing Miss Trevannion, and bidding her farewell. I was not disappointed; I found her at her netting, having just lighted the lamp which hung over the table.
