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So impressed was I with these thoughts that had I not been on the high seas, I should inevitably have run for it. Alas, however, the banks of Newfoundland – which, after all I had heard mentioned on our voyage, I imagined to be grassy slopes glittering with daisies, and yellow with daffodils – are but sand heaps some two hundred fathoms down in “the ocean blue;” and all one ever knows of them is the small geological specimens brought up on the tallowed end of the deep-sea lead. Escape, therefore, was for the present out of the question; but the steady determination to attempt it was spared me by a circumstance that occurred about a week later.

After some days of calm, common enough in these latitudes, a slight but steady breeze set in from the northeast, which bore us up the Gulf with easy sail till we came in sight of the long, low island of Anticosti, which, like some gigantic monster, raises its dark, misshapen beach above the water. Not the slightest trace of foliage or verdure to give it a semblance to the aspect of land. Two dreary-looking log-houses, about eighteen miles apart, remind one that a refuge for the shipwrecked is deemed necessary in this dangerous channel; but, except these, not a trace exists to show that the foot of man had trod that dreary spot.

The cook’s galley is sure to have its share of horrors when a ship “lies to” near this gloomy shore; scarcely a crew exists where some one belonging to it has not had a messmate wrecked there; and then, the dreadful narratives of starvation, and strife, and murders, were too fearful to dwell on. Among the horrors recorded on every hand all agreed in speaking of a terrible character who had never quitted the island for upwards of forty years. He was a sailor who had committed a murder under circumstances of great atrocity, and dared not revisit the mainland, for fear of the penalty of his guilt. Few had ever seen him; for years back, indeed, he had not been met with at all, and rumor said that he was dead. Still, no trace of his body could be found, and some inclined to the opinion that he might at last have made his escape.

He was a negro, and was described as possessing the strength of three or four men; and although the proverbial exaggeration of sailors might, and very probably did, color these narratives, the sad fate of more than one party who had set out to capture him, gave the stories a terrible air of truth. The fear of him was such that although very liberal terms had been offered to induce men to take up their abode in the island to succor the crews of wrecked vessels, none could be found to accept the post; and even at the period when I visited these seas, and after a long lapse of years since the Black Boatswain had been seen, no one would venture.

The story went that his ghost still wandered there, and that at night, when the storm was high, and the waves of the Gulf sent the spray over that low and dreary island, his cries could be heard, calling aloud to “shorten sail,” to “brace round the yards, close the hatchways,” mingled with blasphemies that made the very hair stand on end.

If the reader, armed with the triple mail of incredulity, so snugly ensconced in his easy-chair, before a sea-coal fire, can afford to scoff at such perils, not so did I, as I sat in a corner of the galley, gathering with greedy ears the horrors that fell on every side, and now and then stealing out to cast a glance over the bulwarks at the long low bank of sand, which seemed more like an exhalation from the water than a solid mass of rock and shingle.

I have said that a feeling of rivalry existed between the Moorish boy, El Jarasch, and myself; and although I endured the scoffs and sneers at first with a humility my own humble garb and anomalous position enforced, I soon began to feel more confidence in myself, and that species of assurance a becoming dress seems somehow to inspire; for I was now attired like the rest of the crew, and wore the name of the yacht in gold letters on my cap, as well as on the breast of my waistcoat.

The hatred of El Jarasch increased with every day, and mutual scoffs and gibes were the only intercourse between us. More than once, Halkett, who had always befriended me, warned me of the boy, and said that his Moorish blood was sure to make his vengeance felt; but I only laughed at his caution, and avowed myself ready to confront him when and however he pleased. Generosity was little wasted on either side, so that when one day, in a fierce encounter with the lions, El Jarasch received a fall which broke one of his ribs, and was carried in a state of insensibility to his berth, I neither pitied him nor regretted his misfortune. I affected even to say that his own cowardice had rendered the creatures more daring, and that had he preserved a bolder front the mischance would have never occurred. These vauntings of mine, coupled with an avowed willingness to take his place, came to Sir Dudley’s ears on the third evening after the accident, and he immediately sent for me to his cabin.

“Is it true, sirrah,” said he, in a harsh, unpleasant voice, “that you have been jesting about Jarasch, and saying that you were ready to take charge of the whelps in his stead?”

“It is,” said I, answering both questions together.

“You shall do so to-morrow, then,” replied he, solemnly; “take care that you can do something as well as boast!” and with this he motioned me to leave the cabin.

I at once repaired to the steerage to report my interview to the men, who were all more friendly with me than with the “Moor.” Many were the counsels I received about how I should conduct myself the next morning; some asserting that, as it was my first time, I could not be too gentle with the animals, avoiding the slightest risk of hurting them, and even suffering their rough play without any effort to check it. Others, on the contrary, advised me at once to seek the mastery over the beasts, and by two or three severe lessons to teach them caution, if not respect. This counsel, I own, chimed in with my own notions, and also better accorded with what, after my late vauntings, I felt to be my duty.

It was altogether a very anxious night with me, not exactly through fear, because I knew, as the men were always ready with their arms loaded, life could not be perilled, and I did not dread the infliction of a mere sprain or fracture; but I felt it was an ordeal wherein my fame was at stake. Were I to acquit myself well, there would be an end forever of those insulting airs of superiority the Moorish boy had assumed towards me. Whereas if I failed, I must consent to bear his taunts and sarcasms without a murmur.

In one point only the advice of all the crew agreed, which was, that the female cub, much larger and more ferocious than the male, should more particularly demand my watchfulness. “If she scratch you, boy, mind that you desist,” said an old Danish sailor, who had been long on the African coast. This caution was re-echoed by all; and, resolving to follow its dictates, I “turned in” to my hammock, to dream of combats and battles till morning.

I was early astir, – waking with a sudden start. I had been dreaming of a lion-hunt, and fancied I heard the deep-mouthed roaring of the beasts in a jungle; and, true enough, a low, monotonous howl came from the place where the animals lay, for it was now the fourth morning of their being confined without having been once at liberty.

I had just completed my dressing, – the costume was simply a short pair of loose trousers, hands, arms, and feet bare, and a small Fez cap on my head, – when Halkett came down to me to say that he had been speaking to Sir Dudley about the matter, and that as I had never yet accustomed myself to the whelps, it was better that I should not begin the acquaintance after they had been four days in durance. “At the same time,” added Halkett, “he gives you the choice; you can venture if you please.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” said I. “I’m sure I’m able for anything the black fellow can do.”

“My advice to you, boy,” said he, “is to leave them alone. Those Moorish chaps are the creatures’ countrymen, and have almost the same kind of natures, – they are stealthy, treacherous, and cruel. They never trust anything, man or beast!”

“No matter,” said I. “I’m as strong as he is, and my courage is not less.”

“If you will have it so, I have nothing to say, – indeed, I promised Sir Dudley I’d give you no advice one way or other; so now get the staff from Jarasch, and come on deck.”

The staff was a short thick truncheon of oak, tipped with brass at each end, and the only weapon ever used by the boy in his encounters.

“So you’re going to take my place!” said the black fellow, while his dark eyes were lighted up like coals of fire, and his white teeth glanced between his purple lips. “Don’t hurt my poor pet cubs; be gentle with them.”

“Where’s the staff?” said I, not liking the tone in which he spoke, or well knowing if he affected earnest or jest.

“There it is,” said he; “but your white hands will be enough without that. You’ll not need the weapon the coward used!” and as he spoke, a kind of shuddering convulsion shook his frame from head to foot.

“Come, come,” said I, stretching out my hand, “I ought not to have called you a coward, Jarasch, – that you are not! I ask you to forgive me; will you?”

He never spoke, but nestled lower down in the hammock, so that I could not even see his face.

“There, they ‘re calling me already. I must be off! Let us shake hands and be friends this time at least. When you’re well and up, we can fight it out about something else!”

“Kiss me, then,” said he; and though I had no fancy for the embrace, or the tone it was asked in, I leaned over the hammock, and while he placed one arm round my neck, and drew me towards him, I kissed his forehead, and he mine, in true Moorish fashion; and not sorry to have made my peace with my only enemy, I stepped up the ladder with a light heart and a firm courage.

I little knew what need I had for both! When Jarasch had put his arm around my neck, I did not know that he had inserted his hand beneath the collar of my shirt, and drawn a long streak of blood from his own vein across my back between my shoulders. When I arrived on deck, it was to receive the congratulations of the crew, who were all struck with my muscular arms and legs, and who unanimously pronounced that I was far fitter to exercise the whelps than was the Moor.

Sir Dudley said nothing. A short nod greeted me as I came towards him, and then he waved me back with his hand, – a motion which, having something contemptuous in it, pained me acutely at the moment. I had not much time, however, to indulge such feelings. The whelps were already on deck, and springing madly at the wooden bars of their cage for liberty. Eager as themselves, I hastened to unbolt the door and set them free.

No sooner were they at large than they set off down one side of the deck and up the other, careering at full speed, clearing with a bound whatever stood in their way; and when by any chance meeting each other, stopping for an instant to stare with glaring eyes and swelling nostrils; and then, either passing stealthily and warily past, or one would crouch while the other cleared him at a spring, and so off again. In all this I had no part to play. I could neither call them back, like Jarasch, whose voice they knew, nor had I his dexterity in catching them as they went, and throwing all manner of gambols over and upon them, as he did.

I felt this poignantly, the more as I saw, or thought I saw, Sir Dudley’s eyes upon me more than once, with an expression of disdainful pity. At last, the great tub which contained the creatures’ food was wheeled forward; and no sooner had the men retired than the quick-scented animals were on the spot, – so rapidly, indeed, that I had barely time to seat myself, cross-legged, on the lid, when they approached, and with stately step walked round the vessel, staring as it were in surprise at the new figure who disputed their meal with them.

At last, the male placed one paw on the lid, and with the other tapped me twice or thrice on the shoulder with the kind of gentle, pattering blow a cat will sometimes use with a mouse. It was a sort of mild admonition to “leave that,” nothing of hostility whatever being announced.

I replied by imitating the gesture, so far as a half-closed fist would permit, and struck him on the side of the head. He looked grave at this treatment, and, slowly descending from his place, he lay down about a yard off. Meanwhile the female, who had been smelling and sniffing round and round the tub, made an effort to lift the lid with her head, and, failing, began to strike it in sharp, short blows with her paw; the excitement of her face, and the sturdy position of her hind legs, showing that her temper was chafed at the delay. To increase her rage, I pushed the lid a few inches back; and as the savory steam arose, the creature grew more eager, and at last attracted the other to the spot.

It was quite clear that hunger was the passion uppermost with them, and that they had not yet connected me with the cause of their disappointment; for they labored by twenty devices to insert a paw or to smash the lid, but never noticed me in the least. Wearied of my failures to induce them to play, and angry at the indifference they manifested to me, I sprang from the lid, and, lifting it from the tub, flung it back. In an instant they had each their heads in the mess; the female had even her great paw in the midst of the tub, and was eating away with that low, gurgling growl peculiar to the wild beast.

Dashing right between them, I seized one by the throat with both hands, and hurled him back upon the deck. A shout of “Bravo!” burst from the crew at the boldness of the feat, and with a bound the fellow made at me. I dropped suddenly on one knee as he came, and struck him with the staff on the fore legs. Had he been shot, he could not have fallen more rapidly; down he went, like a dead mass, on the deck. To spring on his back and hold him fast down was the work of a second, while I belabored him about the head with my fists.

The stunning effect of his first fall gave me the victory for a moment, but he soon rallied, and attacked me boldly. It was now a fair fight; for if I sometimes succeeded in making him shake his huge head or drop his paw with pain, more than once he staggered me with a blow which, had it been only quickly followed, would soon have decided the struggle. At last, after a scuffle in which he had nearly vanquished me, he made a leap at my throat. I put in a blow of such power with the staff on the forehead that he gave a loud roar of pain, and, with drooping tail, slunk to hide away himself beneath a boat.

Up to this moment the female had never stirred from the mess of food, but continued eating and snarling as though every mouthful was a battle. Scarcely, however, had the roar of the other cub been heard than she lifted her head, and, slowly turning round, stared at me with an expression which, even now, my dreams will recall.

I had not yet recovered from the exhaustion of my late encounter, and was half sitting, half kneeling on the deck, as the whelp stood glowering at me, with every vein in her vast forehead swollen, and her large, red eyes seeming to dilate as she looked. The attitude of the creature must have been striking, for the crew cheered with a heartiness that showed how much they admired her.

So long as I sat unmoved she never stirred; but when I prepared to arise, she gave one bound, and, striking me with her head, hurled me back upon the deck: her own impulse had carried her clean over me, and when she returned, I was already up, on my knees, and better prepared to receive her. Again she tried the same manoeuvre; but this time I leaped to my feet, and, springing on one side, struck her a heavy blow on the top of the head. Twice or thrice the same attack, with the same result, followed; and at each blow a gallant cheer from the men gave me fresh courage.

The beast was now excited to a dreadful degree; but her very passion favored me, for her assaults were wilder and less circumspect than at first. At length, just as I was again making the side leap by which I had escaped, my foot slipped, and I fell. I was scarcely down ere she was upon me, not, as before, to strike with her paws, but with a rude shock she threw herself across me, as if to crush me by her weight; while her huge head and terrific mouth, frothy and steaming, lay within a few inches of my face.

Halkett and two others advanced to my rescue; but I bade them go back and leave me to myself, for I was only wearied, not conquered. For some minutes we lay thus; when at length, having recovered strength once more, I grasped the whelp’s throat with both hands, and then by a tremendous effort threw her back, and rolled myself uppermost. She soon shook herself free, however, and turned upon me: I was now on my knees, and with the staff I dealt her a fierce blow on the leg. A terrific howl followed, and she closed with me in full fury. Seizing my shirt, she tore it away from my breast, and with her paw upon the fragment, ripped it in a hundred pieces. I endeavored to catch her by the throat once more, but failed, and rolled over on my face, and in doing so, disclosed the bloody streak between my shoulders; she saw it, and at the same instant sprang on me. I felt her teeth as they met in my neck, while her terrible cry, the most appalling ears ever heard, rang through my brain.

“Save him! Save him! She’s killing him!” were now heard on every side; but none dared to fire for fear of wounding me, and the terrible rage of the animal deterred all from approaching her. The struggle was now a life-and-death one; and alternately falling and rolling, we fought – I cannot tell how, for the blood blinded me as it came from a wound in my forehead; and I only felt one firm purpose in my heart: “If I fall, she shall not survive me.” Several of the sailors came near enough to strike her with their cutlasses; but these wounds only increased her rage, and I cried to them to desist.

“Shoot her! put a bullet through her!” cried Halkett. “Let none dare to shoot her!” cried Sir Dudley, loudly. I just heard these words, as, after a fierce struggle, in which she had seized me by the shoulder, I fell against the bulwark. With a last effort I staggered to my knees, flung open the gangway, and then, with an exertion that to myself seemed my very last on earth, I seized her by the throat and hurled her backwards into the sea. On hands and knees I leaned forward to see her as the rapid Gulf-stream, hurrying onward to the ocean, bore her away; and then, as my sight grew fainter, I fell back upon the deck, and believed I was dying.

CHAPTER XI. MEANS AND MEDITATIONS

It was the second evening after my lion adventure, and I was stretched in my hammock in a low, half-torpid state, not a limb nor a joint in all my body that had not its own peculiar pain; while a sharp wound in my neck, and another still deeper one in the fleshy part of my shoulder, had just begun that process called “union,” – one which, I am bound to say, however satisfactory in result, is often very painful in its progress. The slightest change of position gave me intolerable anguish, as I lay, with closed eyes and crossed hands, not a bad resemblance of those stone saints one sees upon old tombstones.

My faculties were clear and acute, so that, having abundant leisure for the occupation, I had nothing better to do than take a brief retrospect of my late life. Such reviews are rarely satisfactory, or rather, one rarely thinks of making them when the “score of the past” is in our favor. Up to this moment it was clear I had gained little but experience; I had started light, and I had acquired nothing, save a somewhat worse opinion of the world and a greater degree of confidence in myself. I had but one way of balancing my account with Fortune, which was by asking myself, “Would I undo the past, if in my power? Would I wish once more to be back in my ‘father’s mud edifice,’ now digging a drain, now drawing an indictment, – a kind of pastoral pettifogger, with one foot in a potato furrow, and the other in petty sessions?” I stoutly said, “No!” a thousand times “no!” to this question.

I could not ask myself as to my preference for a university career, for my college life had concluded abruptly, in spite of me; but still, during my town experiences I saw enough to leave me no regrets at having quitted the muses. The life of a “skip,” as the Trinity men have it, —vice gyp., for the Greek word signifying a “vulture,” – is only removed by a thin sheet of silver paper from that of a cabin boy in a collier; copious pummelling and short prog being the first two articles of your warrant; while in some respects the marine has a natural advantage over him on shore. A skip is invariably expected to invent lies “at discretion” for his master’s benefit, and is always thrashed when they are either discovered or turn out adverse. On this point his education is perfectly “Spartan;” but, unhappily too, he is expected to be a perfect mirror of truth on all other occasions. This is somewhat hard, inasmuch as it is only in a man’s graduate course that he learns to defend a paradox, and support by good reasons what he knows to be false.

Again a “skip” never receives clothes, but is flogged at least once a week for disorders in his dress, and for general untidiness of appearance; this, too, is hard, since he has as little intercourse with soap as he has with conic sections.

Thirdly, a good skip invariably obtains credit for his master at “Foles’s” chop-house; while, in his own proper capacity, he would not get trust for a cheese-paring.

Fourthly, a skip is supposed to be born a valet, as some are born poets, – to have an instinctive aptitude for all the details of things he has never seen or heard of before; so that when he applies Warren’s patent to French leather boots, polishes silver with a Bath brick, blows the fire with a quarto, and cuts candles with a razor, he finds it passing strange that he should be “had up” for punishment. To be fat without food, to be warm without fire, to be wakeful without sleep, to be clad without clothes, to be known as a vagabond, and to pass current for unblemished honesty, to be praised as a liar, and then thrashed for lying, – is too much to expect at fifteen years of age.

Lastly, as to Betty’s I had no regrets. The occupation of horse-boy, like the profession of physic, has no “avenir.” The utmost the most aspiring can promise to himself is to hold more horses than his neighbors, as the Doctor’s success is to order more “senna.” There is nothing beyond these; no higher path opens to him who feels the necessity for an “upward course.” It is a ladder with but one round to it! No, no; I was right to “sell out” there.

My steeplechase might have led to something, – that is, I might have become a jockey; but then, again, one’s light weight, like a “contralto” voice, is sure to vanish after a year or two; and then, from the heyday of popularity, you sink down into a bad groom or a fourth-rate tenor, just as if, after reaching a silk gown at the bar, a man had to begin life again as crier in the Exchequer! Besides, in all these various walks I should have had the worst of all “trammels,” a patron. Now, if any resolve had thoroughly fixed itself in my mind, it was this: never to have a patron, never to be bound to any man who, because he had once set you on your legs, should regulate the pace you were to walk through a long life. To do this, one should be born without a particle of manhood’s spirit, – absolutely without volition; otherwise you go through life a living lie, talking sentiments that are not yours, and wearing a livery in your heart as well as on your back!

Why do we hear such tirades about the ingratitude of men, who, being once assisted by others, – their inferiors in everything save gold, – soar above the low routine of toadyism, and rise into personal independence? Let us remember that the contract was never a fair one, and that a whole life’s degradation is a heavy sum to pay for a dinner with his Grace, or a cup of tea with her Highness. “My Lord,” I am aware, thinks differently; and it is one of the very pleasant delusions of his high station to fancy that little folk are dependent upon him, – what consequence they obtain among their fellows by his recognition in public, or by his most careless nod in the street. But “my Lord” does not know that this is a paper currency that represents no capital, that it is not convertible at will, and is never a legal tender; and consequently, as a requital for actual bona fide services, is about as honest a payment as a flash note.

It was no breach of my principle that I accepted Sir Dudley’s offer. Our acquaintance began by my rendering him a service; and I was as free to leave him that hour, and, I own, as ready to do so, if occasion permitted, as he could be to get rid of me; and it was not long before the occasion presented itself for exercising these views.

As I lay thus, ruminating on my past fortunes, Halkett descended the steerage-ladder, followed by Felborg, the Dane; and, approaching my hammock, held a light to my face for a few seconds. “Still asleep?” said Halkett. “Poor boy! he has never awoke since I dressed his wound this morning. I ‘m sure it’s better; so let us leave him so.”

“Ay, ay,” said the Dane, “let him sleep; bad tidings come soon enough, without one’s being awoke to hear them. But do you think he ‘ll do it?” added he, with lower and more anxious tone.

“He has said so; and I never knew him fail in his promise when it was a cruel one.”

“Have you no influence over him, Halkett? Could you not speak for the boy?”

“I have done all I could, – more than perhaps it was safe to do. I told him I could n’t answer for the men, if he were to shoot him on board; and he replied to me short, ‘I ‘ll take the fellow ashore with me alone; neither you nor they have any right to question what you are not to witness.’”

“Well, when I get back to Elsinore, it’s to a prison and heavy irons I shall go for life, that’s certain; but I ‘d face it all rather than live the life we’ve done now for twenty months past.”

“Hush! speak low!” said the other. “I suppose others are weary of it as well as you. Many a man has to live a bad life just because he started badly.”

“I ‘m sorry for the boy!” sighed the Dane; “he was a bold and fearless fellow.”

“I am sorry for him too. It was an evil day for him when he joined us. Well, well, what would he have become if he had lived a year or two on board!”

“He has no father nor mother,” said the Dane, “that’s something. I lost mine, too, when I was nine years old; and it made me the reckless devil I became ever after. I was n’t sixteen when the crew of the ‘Tre-Kroner’ mutinied, and I led the party that cut down the first lieutenant. It was a moonlight night, just as it might be now, in the middle watch, and Lieutenant Oeldenstrom was sitting aft, near the wheel, humming a tune. I walked aft, with my cutlass in one hand, and a pistol in the other; but just as I stepped up the quarter-deck my foot slipped, and the cutlass fell with a clank on the deck.

“‘What’s that?’ cried the lieutenant.

“‘Felborg, sir, mate of the watch,’ said I, standing fast where I was. ‘It’s shoaling fast ahead, sir.’

“‘D – n!’ said he, ‘what a coast!’

“‘Could n’t you say a bit of something better than that?’ said I, getting nearer to him slowly.

“‘What do you mean?’ said he, jumping up angrily; but he was scarce on his legs when he was down again at his full length on the plank, with a bullet through his brain, never to move again!”

“There, there, avast with that tale; you’ve told it to me every night that my heart was heavy this twelvemonth past. But I ‘ve hit on a way to save the lad, – will you help me?”

“Ay, if my help does n’t bring bad luck on him; it always has on every one I befriended since – since – ”

“Never mind that. There ‘s no risk here, nor much room for luck, good or bad.” He paused a second or two, then added, —

“I ‘m thinking we can’t do better than shove him ashore on the island yonder.”

“On Anticosti!” said Felborg, with a shudder.

“Ay, why not? There’s always a store of biscuit and fresh water in the log-houses, and the cruisers touch there every six or seven weeks to take people off. He has but to hoist the flag to show he ‘s there.”

“There’s no one there now,” said the Dane.

“No. I saw the flag-staff bare yesterday; but what does that matter? A few days or a few weeks alone are better than what’s in store for him here.”

“I don’t think so. No! Beym alia Deyvelm! I ‘d stand the bullet at three paces, but I ‘d not meet that negro chap alone.”

“Oh, he’s dead and gone this many a year,” said Halkett. “When the ‘Rodney’ transport was wrecked there, two years last fall, they searched the island from end to end, and could n’t find a trace of him. They were seven weeks there, and it’s pretty clear if he were alive – ”

“Ay, just so, – if he were alive!”

“Nonsense, man! You don’t believe those yarns they get up to frighten the boys in the cook’s galley?”

“It’s scarce mercy, to my reckoning,” said Felborg, “to take the lad from a quick and short fate, and leave him yonder; but if you need my help, you shall have it.”

“That’s enough,” said Halkett; “go on deck, and look after the boat. None of our fellows will betray us; and in the morning we ‘ll tell Sir Dudley that he threw himself overboard in the night, in a fit of frenzy. He’ll care little whether it’s true or false.”

“I say, Con – Con, my lad,” said Halkett, as soon as the other had mounted the ladder. “Wake up, my boy; I’ve something to tell you.”

“I know it,” said I, wishing to spare time, which I thought might be precious; “I’ve been dreaming all about it.”