Home > Authors Index > William H. G. Kingston > Peter the Whaler > This page
Peter the Whaler, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
||
Chapter 13 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. At length I reached Quebec, and hurried to the quay, where I had left the _Mary_. She was not there. I hastened to the dockyard where she was to be repaired; I made inquiries for her of everybody I met. "What, the _Mary_, Captain Dean?" replied a shipwright to whom I spoke; "why, she sailed three weeks ago and better, for the West Indies, or some of them ports to the southward--she's pretty well there by this time." I felt that he was speaking the truth, and my heart sunk within me; but to make sure, I ran on to the house at which Captain Dean and Mary had lodged. The woman, who was a French Canadian, received me very kindly, and seemed to enter into my feelings when she corroborated the account I had heard. She did not know exactly where the ship had gone; but she said that my friends were very sorry when I did not come back at the time appointed. At last Monsieur the captain grew angry, and said he was afraid I was an idle fellow, and preferred the vagabond life of a hunter to the hardier though nobler work of a seaman; but "_ma pauvre petite_," as she called Mary, took my part, and said she was certain some accident had happened to me, or I should have been back when I promised. "Sweet Mary, I knew that she would defend me," I muttered; "and yet how little do I deserve her confidence!" "Ah, she is indeed a sweet child," observed Madame Durand, divining my thoughts; "she cried very much indeed when the ship had to sail away without you, and nothing would comfort the poor dear." This information, though very flattering to me, added to my regret. I was now obliged to consider what I should next do. After the free wild life I had been leading, the idea of returning to Ireland was odious to me. I can scarcely now account for my conduct in this respect, but I had but once written home on my arrival at Quebec; and during my long excursions to the backwoods, I never had time. I was now ashamed to write--I seldom ever thought of those at home. I had sunk, I felt, from their grade, whenever I recollected them. My whole attention had been for so long occupied with the present, that the past was, as it were, a blank, or as a story which I had read in some book, and had almost forgotten. I therefore hardly for a moment thought of going back, if I did so at all; but I was anxious to fall in again with Captain Dean. I fancied the pleasures of a sea life more than those of a hunter, but I was not yet altogether tired of the backwoods. I had still a hankering to trap a few more beavers, and to shoot some more raccoons and deer. On making further inquiries of the ship-broker, I discovered that there was a possibility of Captain Dean's going to New Orleans, and I at once formed the idea of finding my way, by land and river, to that city. I knew a little more of the geography of the country than I did on my arrival, but the immense distance no way daunted me. I wanted to visit the States, and I was certain that my gun would always afford me the means of proceeding by any public conveyance, when I required it. I had a good sum remaining from the sale of the peltries I had saved; and with this in my pockets I once more started for the lakes of Upper Canada, purposing from thence to work my way through the western States down the Mississippi to New Orleans. An American vessel, which I found at Goodrich, conveyed me, through Lake Huron, to a fort at the southern extremity of Lake Michigan, called, if I recollect rightly, Fort Dearborn. The voyage was long and tiresome. The feeling that one is in a fresh-water lake, and at the same time being out of sight of land for days together, is very curious. It gives one a more perfect notion than anything else can of the vastness of the country in which such inland seas exist. I must be excused from giving any minute account of my adventures at this period, as I made no notes, and I do not recur to them with much satisfaction. In fact, I was weary of the solitary life of a hunter and trapper, and longed once more to be among people with whom I could have some thoughts and feelings in common. Till I got into the settled districts, I shot and trapped as before. My rifle always supplied me with abundance of food; and, whenever I reached a trading-post, I was able to exchange my peltries for a fresh store of powder and shot. When passing through the more inhabited districts, I was invariably hospitably received by the settlers, whatever was the nation to which they before belonged. Travelling through a large portion of the State of Indiana, I entered that of Illinois, and at length I embarked with a party of hunters in a canoe on the river of the same name, which runs through its centre. With these people I proceeded to Saint Louis, a city situated on the spot where the mighty streams of the Mississippi and Missouri join their waters. Saint Louis was founded by the French, and is still very French in its general aspect. I here easily disposed of my remaining skins for a good sum of money, which I secured in a band round my waist. I remained here only two days, for I was anxious to proceed to the south; and, finding a steamer starting down the Mississippi, I went on board, and for about eight dollars engaged a passage on deck to New Orleans. The passage occupied ten days. By my usual way of proceeding, on foot, I should have been as many months, with a constant probability of dying of fever on the way. I must make a remark for the benefit of Englishmen who may contemplate settling in the United States. They expect to find land cheap, no taxes, and few laws to hamper their will. In this they will not be disappointed; but there will be a considerable expense incurred in reaching those settlements where land is cheap. They will probably be a very great distance from a market for their produce; and, though they have no taxes and few laws, neither will they have the advantages which taxes and laws afford. They will be far removed from the ordinances of their Church, and the opportunities of education; there will neither be the where to buy nor to sell. In fact, they must be deprived of many of the advantages of civilisation; added to which, many parts of the western States are unhealthy in the greatest degree, of which the wretched, sallow, ague-stricken beings inhabiting them afforded melancholy proof; and these people, I found, were once stout, healthy peasants in England, and would have continued healthy, and gained what they hoped for besides, had they emigrated to Canada or to any other British colony, or even had they possessed more knowledge of the territory of the United States. I do not say that many British emigrants who give up their country, and become aliens in the States, do not succeed, and thus the accounts they send home encourage others to go out; but I do say that thousands of others die miserably of sickness and disappointment, without a friendly hand to help or cheer them, or any one to afford them the consolations of religion, and of their fate we never hear a word. People talk a great deal of the advantages of liberty and equality, and the freedom of a wild life; but let me assure them that the liberty of having one's eye gouged out, the equality which every ruffian claims, and the freedom which allows a man to die without any one to assist him, are practically far from desirable; and yet such are the false phantoms by which many are allured to a land of strangers, away from the home of their countrymen and friends. However, I am not writing a lecture on colonisation. I will finish the subject, by urging my readers to study it, and to become the advocates of British colonisation. New Orleans is justly called the wet grave of the white man, for yearly pestilence sweeps off thousands of its inhabitants; and as water is found but two feet below the surface, it fills each last receptacle of the dead as soon as dug. Yet pestilential as is the clime, the scenery is very beautiful. The stream, which is here a mile broad, rolls its immense volume of water with calm dignity, in a bed above two hundred feet deep, past this great commercial mart of the south. The banks on either side are covered with sugar plantations, from the midst of which rise numberless airy mansions of the wealthy owners, surrounded with orange, banana, lime, and fig trees, with numberless other productions of the tropics; while behind them can be seen the sugar-houses and the cabins of the negroes, to remind one of the curse which hangs over the land. The city itself stands in the form of a half-moon on the banks of this mighty stream, and before it are moored craft of every description-- backwood boats, keel boats, steamers and ships, brigs and schooners, from every part of the world. I may remark that directly behind the city is an impenetrable swamp, into which all the filth from the houses is led, for the ground is lower than the surface of the Mississippi; and then we cannot be surprised that plague and fever prevail to a terrific extent. As soon as I landed I set to work to try and discover the _Mary_, if she was there, or to gain tidings of her should she have sailed, as, from the length of time I had occupied in my journey, I was afraid might be the case. I walked along the quays, examining every ship in the river, and, after a long search, I was convinced that the _Mary_ was not there. I next had recourse to the ship-brokers and ship-chandlers, but from none of them could I gain any information. I then began to make inquiries of the people I found lounging about the quays smoking, and otherwise killing the time. At last I saw a man who stood lounging against a post, with a cigar in his mouth and his arms folded, and who, by the glance he cast at me, seemed to court inquiry. He was, I remember well, a sallow-faced, gaunt fellow, with large expressive eyes and black hair, which hung down from under his Panama hat in ringlets, while a pair of gold rings adorned his ears. He had on a nankeen jacket and large white trousers, with a rich silk sash round his waist, in which was ostentatiously stuck a dagger, or rather a Spanish knife, with a handsome silver hilt. I took him for a Spaniard by his appearance; but when I accosted him in English, he replied in the same language, with scarcely a foreign accent, "And so you are looking for the _Mary_, Captain Dean, are you? Very curious," he observed: "I left her three weeks ago at the Havanah waiting for a cargo; and she won't be off again for another three weeks or more." "Then I may reach her in time!" I ejaculated. "Do you belong to her?" he continued. "You have not much the look of a seaman." He was right; for I was still dressed in my mocassins and hunting costume, with my rifle in my hand, and my other worldly property slung about me, so I must have cut rather a curious figure. I replied that I was to have belonged to her, and explained how it had happened that she had sailed without me. By degrees I told him more of my history; and finally, without my intending it, he drew the whole of it from me. "You are a likely lad," he observed, with an approving nod. "The fact is, I sail to-morrow for the Havanah, in the schooner you see out yonder; and if you like to ship on board, you may, that's all." He pointed, as he spoke, to a large square-topsail schooner which lay out in the stream, at a single anchor. She will not take long to get under weigh, I thought, as I looked at her. Eager as I was to reach the Havannah, I jumped at his offer. "I have not been accustomed to a craft like yours," I replied, "but I will do my duty on board her, to the best of my power." "That's all we require; and perhaps, if you find your friend gone, you will like us well enough to remain with us," he observed, with a laugh. "We are constantly on the wing, so you will have no time to get weary of any place where we touch, as is the case in those big ships, which lie in harbour for months together. If you want to become a seaman, go to sea in a small craft, say I." I told him that I did wish to become a seaman; but I did not say that it was for the sake of sailing with Captain Dean, nor did I mention his daughter. Indeed, I had kept her name altogether out of my narrative. The arrangement being concluded, he advised me to go and get a sea-rig, remarking that my present costume was not exactly suited for going aloft in. There were several outfitting shops, such as are to be found in all seaports, and towards one of them of the most inviting appearance I bent my steps. Before going, however, I inquired of my new friend his name, and that of the schooner. "The English and Americans call me John Hawk, and my craft the _Foam_," he answered. "Captain John Hawk, remember. The name is not amiss; so you may use it, for want of a better." "Are you neither an Englishman nor an American?" I asked. "No, youngster, I belong to no nation," he replied; and I observed a deep frown on his brow as he spoke. "Neither Spain, France, Portugal, England, nor even this free and enlightened country, owns me. Are you afraid of sailing with me, in consequence of my telling you this? If you are, you may be off your bargain." "No," I answered, "no; I merely asked for curiosity, and I hope you won't consider me impertinent." "Not if you don't insist on an answer," he replied. "And now go and get your outfit." As I walked along, I meditated on his odd expressions; but I had no misgivings on the subject. I did not like the first shop I reached, so I went on to another, with the master of which I was more pleased. I there, at a fair price, very soon got the things I wanted, and, going into a back room, rigged myself out in them; while my hunting costume I did up in a bundle, to carry with me, for I was unwilling to part from so old and tried a friend. As I was paying for the things, the whole of which cost somewhere about fifteen dollars, a stout, good-looking, elderly man came into the shop. I at once recognised him as the master of an American brig on board of which I had been in the Liverpool docks. I felt as if he was an old friend, and could not help speaking to him. He was very good-natured, though he did not remember me, which was not surprising. I asked him if he had met the _Mary_. "I left her at the Havanah, for which place I sail to-morrow," he answered. "So does Captain Hawk, of the _Foam_," I observed. "I have just shipped on board her." "Youngster," he said, looking grave, "you do not know the character of that vessel, I am sure, or you would not willingly set foot on her deck. She is a noted slaver, if not something worse; and as you put confidence in me, I will return the compliment, and would strongly advise you to have nothing to do with her." "But I have engaged to sail with Captain Hawk, and he seems a fair-spoken man," I urged. "If you choose to trust to his fair speeches more than to my blunt warnings, I cannot help it," he answered. "I have done my best to open your eyes for you to his true character. If you persist in following your own counsel, you will soon have to open them yourself very wide, when it is too late." I liked the tone of the master's voice, as well as the expression of his countenance; and I therefore felt inclined to believe him. At the same time I did not like to be moved, as it were, from my purpose by every breath of wind. "I promised to sail with Captain Hawk, or whatever may be his name; and though I cannot doubt but that you have good reason for what you say, sir, yet I don't like to desert him, without some proof that he is the character you describe him," I replied. "Did he tell you what trade he was in?" asked the captain. "No, sir," I replied; "he said nothing about it." "Then be guided by me, youngster, and don't ship with him," he said, speaking most earnestly. "You may make every inquiry about my brig--the _Susannah_, Captain Samuel Searle. You will find all is clear and above-board with me. I want hands, I own, and I should be glad to have you, but that does not influence me in what I say." The shopkeeper corroborated all Captain Searle had told me, and added so many other stories of the character of Captain Hawk and his schooner, that I felt truly glad there was yet time to escape from him. Bad as he might be, there was something in his manner which made me wish not to desert him altogether, without offering him some excuse for my conduct. I accordingly, leaving my bundle in the shop, went back to the quay, where I found him lounging as before. He at first did not know me in my change of dress when I accosted him. "You are a likely lad for a sailor," he remarked, as he ran his eye over me approvingly. "I am glad you think so," I answered; and I then told him I had met the master of a vessel whom I had known in Liverpool, and that I wished to sail with him. "And he has been telling you that I am a slaver, I suppose, or something worse, eh?" he exclaimed in a sneering tone, and with an angry flash of the eye I did not like. I looked conscious, I suppose; for he continued, "And you believed him, and were afraid to sail with so desperate a character, eh? Well, lad, go your own ways, I don't want to lead you. But I know of whom you speak, for I saw him go into the shop where you have been, and tell him _to look out for himself that's all_." Saying this, he turned on his heel, and I went back to the shop. I told Captain Searle what Captain Hawk had said. "That does not matter," he answered. "He cannot do me more harm than he already seeks to do; so I do not fear him." I was now pretty well convinced of the honesty of Captain Searle; but to assure myself still further, I called on two or three ship-brokers, who all assured me that his ship was a regular trader, and gave a favourable report of him. When I inquired about Captain Hawk, they screwed up their mouths, or made some other sign expressive of disapprobation, but were evidently unwilling to say anything about him. In the evening I went on board the _Susannah_; and I must say that I was very glad to find myself once more afloat. _ |
||