diff options
Diffstat (limited to '15422-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 15422-h/15422-h.htm | 10188 |
1 files changed, 10188 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/15422-h/15422-h.htm b/15422-h/15422-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e223d5b --- /dev/null +++ b/15422-h/15422-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10188 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Israel Potter, by Herman Melville</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Israel Potter, by Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Israel Potter</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 20, 2005 [eBook #15422]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 15, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Dave Maddock, Mary Meehan and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ISRAEL POTTER ***</div> + +<h1>ISRAEL POTTER</h1> + +<h3>His Fifty Years of Exile</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Herman Melville</h2> + +<h3>1855</h3> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>DEDICATION</h3> + +<h3>TO<br/> +HIS HIGHNESS<br/> +THE<br/> +Bunker-Hill Monument</h3> + +<p> +Biography, in its purer form, confined to the ended lives of the true and +brave, may be held the fairest meed of human virtue—one given and +received in entire disinterestedness—since neither can the biographer +hope for acknowledgment from the subject, nor the subject at all avail himself +of the biographical distinction conferred. +</p> + +<p> +Israel Potter well merits the present tribute—a private of Bunker Hill, +who for his faithful services was years ago promoted to a still deeper privacy +under the ground, with a posthumous pension, in default of any during life, +annually paid him by the spring in ever-new mosses and sward. +</p> + +<p> +I am the more encouraged to lay this performance at the feet of your Highness, +because, with a change in the grammatical person, it preserves, almost as in a +reprint, Israel Potter’s autobiographical story. Shortly after his return +in infirm old age to his native land, a little narrative of his adventures, +forlornly published on sleazy gray paper, appeared among the peddlers, written, +probably, not by himself, but taken down from his lips by another. But like the +crutch-marks of the cripple by the Beautiful Gate, this blurred record is now +out of print. From a tattered copy, rescued by the merest chance from the +rag-pickers, the present account has been drawn, which, with the exception of +some expansions, and additions of historic and personal details, and one or two +shiftings of scene, may, perhaps, be not unfitly regarded something in the +light of a dilapidated old tombstone retouched. +</p> + +<p> +Well aware that in your Highness’ eyes the merit of the story must be in +its general fidelity to the main drift of the original narrative, I forbore +anywhere to mitigate the hard fortunes of my hero; and particularly towards the +end, though sorely tempted, durst not substitute for the allotment of +Providence any artistic recompense of poetical justice; so that no one can +complain of the gloom of my closing chapters more profoundly than myself. +</p> + +<p> +Such is the work, and such, the man, that I have the honor to present to your +Highness. That the name here noted should not have appeared in the volumes of +Sparks, may or may not be a matter for astonishment; but Israel Potter seems +purposely to have waited to make his, popular advent under the present exalted +patronage, seeing that your Highness, according to the definition above, may, +in the loftiest sense, be deemed the Great Biographer: the national +commemorator of such of the anonymous privates of June 17, 1775, who may never +have received other requital than the solid reward of your granite. +</p> + +<p> +Your Highness will pardon me, if, with the warmest ascriptions on this +auspicious occasion, I take the liberty to mingle my hearty congratulations on +the recurrence of the anniversary day we celebrate, wishing your Highness +(though indeed your Highness be somewhat prematurely gray) many returns of the +same, and that each of its summer’s suns may shine as brightly on your +brow as each winter snow shall lightly rest on the grave of Israel Potter. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your Highness’ <br/> +Most devoted and obsequious, <br/> +T<small>HE</small> E<small>DITOR</small>. +</p> + +<p> +J<small>UNE</small> 17th, 1854. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"><b>ISRAEL POTTER</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I. — THE BIRTHPLACE OF ISRAEL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II. — THE YOUTHFUL ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III. — ISRAEL GOES TO THE WARS; AND REACHING BUNKER HILL IN TIME TO BE OF SERVICE THERE, SOON AFTER IS FORCED TO EXTEND HIS TRAVELS ACROSS THE SEA INTO THE ENEMY’S LAND.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV. — FURTHER WANDERINGS OF THE REFUGEE, WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF A GOOD KNIGHT OF BRENTFORD WHO BEFRIENDED HIM.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V. — ISRAEL IN THE LION’S DEN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI. — ISRAEL MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF CERTAIN SECRET FRIENDS OF AMERICA, ONE OF THEM BEING THE FAMOUS AUTHOR OF THE “DIVERSIONS OF PURLEY,” THESE DESPATCH HIM ON A SLY ERRAND ACROSS THE CHANNEL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII. — AFTER A CURIOUS ADVENTURE UPON THE PONT NEUF, ISRAEL ENTERS THE PRESENCE OF THE RENOWNED SAGE, DR. FRANKLIN, WHOM HE FINDS RIGHT LEARNEDLY AND MULTIFARIOUSLY EMPLOYED.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII. — WHICH HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT DR. FRANKLIN AND THE LATIN QUARTER.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX. — ISRAEL IS INITIATED INTO THE MYSTERIES OF LODGING-HOUSES IN THE LATIN QUARTER.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X. — ANOTHER ADVENTURER APPEARS UPON THE SCENE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI. — PAUL JONES IN A REVERIE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII. — RECROSSING THE CHANNEL, ISRAEL RETURNS TO THE SQUIRE’S ABODE—HIS ADVENTURES THERE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII. — HIS ESCAPE FROM THE HOUSE, WITH VARIOUS ADVENTURES FOLLOWING.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV. — IN WHICH ISRAEL IS SAILOR UNDER TWO FLAGS, AND IN THREE SHIPS, AND ALL IN ONE NIGHT.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER XV. — THEY SAIL AS FAR AS THE CRAG OF AILSA.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER XVI. — THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS, AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER XVII. — THEY CALL AT THE EARL OF SELKIRK’S, AND AFTERWARDS FIGHT THE SHIP-OF-WAR DRAKE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER XVIII. — THE EXPEDITION THAT SAILED FROM GROIX.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER XIX. — THEY FIGHT THE SERAPIS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER XX. — THE SHUTTLE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">CHAPTER XXI. — SAMSON AMONG THE PHILISTINES.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0022">CHAPTER XXII. — SOMETHING FURTHER OF ETHAN ALLEN; WITH ISRAEL’S FLIGHT TOWARDS THE WILDERNESS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0023">CHAPTER XXIII. — ISRAEL IN EGYPT.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0024">CHAPTER XXIV. — CONTINUED.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0025">CHAPTER XXV. — IN THE CITY OF DIS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0026">CHAPTER XXVI. — FORTY-FIVE YEARS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0027">CHAPTER XXVII. — REQUIESCAT IN PACE.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0001"></a> +ISRAEL POTTER</h2> + +<h3>Fifty Years of Exile</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I.<br/> +THE BIRTHPLACE OF ISRAEL.</h2> + +<p> +The traveller who at the present day is content to travel in the good old +Asiatic style, neither rushed along by a locomotive, nor dragged by a +stage-coach; who is willing to enjoy hospitalities at far-scattered farmhouses, +instead of paying his bill at an inn; who is not to be frightened by any amount +of loneliness, or to be deterred by the roughest roads or the highest hills; +such a traveller in the eastern part of Berkshire, Massachusetts, will find +ample food for poetic reflection in the singular scenery of a country, which, +owing to the ruggedness of the soil and its lying out of the track of all +public conveyances, remains almost as unknown to the general tourist as the +interior of Bohemia. +</p> + +<p> +Travelling northward from the township of Otis, the road leads for twenty or +thirty miles towards Windsor, lengthwise upon that long broken spur of heights +which the Green Mountains of Vermont send into Massachusetts. For nearly the +whole of the distance, you have the continual sensation of being upon some +terrace in the moon. The feeling of the plain or the valley is never yours; +scarcely the feeling of the earth. Unless by a sudden precipitation of the road +you find yourself plunging into some gorge, you pass on, and on, and on, upon +the crests or slopes of pastoral mountains, while far below, mapped out in its +beauty, the valley of the Housatonie lies endlessly along at your feet. Often, +as your horse gaining some lofty level tract, flat as a table, trots gayly over +the almost deserted and sodded road, and your admiring eye sweeps the broad +landscape beneath, you seem to be Bootes driving in heaven. Save a potato field +here and there, at long intervals, the whole country is either in wood or +pasture. Horses, cattle and sheep are the principal inhabitants of these +mountains. But all through the year lazy columns of smoke, rising from the +depths of the forest, proclaim the presence of that half-outlaw, the +charcoal-burner; while in early spring added curls of vapor show that the maple +sugar-boiler is also at work. But as for farming as a regular vocation, there +is not much of it here. At any rate, no man by that means accumulates a fortune +from this thin and rocky soil, all whose arable parts have long since been +nearly exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +Yet during the first settlement of the country, the region was not +unproductive. Here it was that the original settlers came, acting upon the +principle well known to have regulated their choice of site, namely, the high +land in preference to the low, as less subject to the unwholesome miasmas +generated by breaking into the rich valleys and alluvial bottoms of primeval +regions. By degrees, however, they quitted the safety of this sterile +elevation, to brave the dangers of richer though lower fields. So that, at the +present day, some of those mountain townships present an aspect of singular +abandonment. Though they have never known aught but peace and health, they, in +one lesser aspect at least, look like countries depopulated by plague and war. +Every mile or two a house is passed untenanted. The strength of the frame-work +of these ancient buildings enables them long to resist the encroachments of +decay. Spotted gray and green with the weather-stain, their timbers seem to +have lapsed back into their woodland original, forming part now of the general +picturesqueness of the natural scene. They are of extraordinary size, compared +with modern farmhouses. One peculiar feature is the immense chimney, of light +gray stone, perforating the middle of the roof like a tower. +</p> + +<p> +On all sides are seen the tokens of ancient industry. As stone abounds +throughout these mountains, that material was, for fences, as ready to the hand +as wood, besides being much more durable. Consequently the landscape is +intersected in all directions with walls of uncommon neatness and strength. +</p> + +<p> +The number and length of these walls is not more surprising than the size of +some of the blocks comprising them. The very Titans seemed to have been at +work. That so small an army as the first settlers must needs have been, should +have taken such wonderful pains to enclose so ungrateful a soil; that they +should have accomplished such herculean undertakings with so slight prospect of +reward; this is a consideration which gives us a significant hint of the temper +of the men of the Revolutionary era. +</p> + +<p> +Nor could a fitter country be found for the birthplace of the devoted patriot, +Israel Potter. +</p> + +<p> +To this day the best stone-wall builders, as the best wood-choppers, come from +those solitary mountain towns; a tall, athletic, and hardy race, unerring with +the axe as the Indian with the tomahawk; at stone-rolling, patient as Sisyphus, +powerful as Samson. +</p> + +<p> +In fine clear June days, the bloom of these mountains is beyond expression +delightful. Last visiting these heights ere she vanishes, Spring, like the +sunset, flings her sweetest charms upon them. Each tuft of upland grass is +musked like a bouquet with perfume. The balmy breeze swings to and fro like a +censer. On one side the eye follows for the space of an eagle’s flight, +the serpentine mountain chains, southwards from the great purple dome of +Taconic—the St. Peter’s of these hills—northwards to the twin +summits of Saddleback, which is the two-steepled natural cathedral of +Berkshire; while low down to the west the Housatonie winds on in her watery +labyrinth, through charming meadows basking in the reflected rays from the +hill-sides. At this season the beauty of every thing around you populates the +loneliness of your way. You would not have the country more settled if you +could. Content to drink in such loveliness at all your senses, the heart +desires no company but Nature. +</p> + +<p> +With what rapture you behold, hovering over some vast hollow of the hills, or +slowly drifting at an immense height over the far sunken Housatonie valley, +some lordly eagle, who in unshared exaltation looks down equally upon plain and +mountain. Or you behold a hawk sallying from some crag, like a Rhenish baron of +old from his pinnacled castle, and darting down towards the river for his prey. +Or perhaps, lazily gliding about in the zenith, this ruffian fowl is suddenly +beset by a crow, who with stubborn audacity pecks at him, and, spite of all his +bravery, finally persecutes him back to his stronghold. The otherwise dauntless +bandit, soaring at his topmost height, must needs succumb to this sable image +of death. Nor are there wanting many smaller and less famous fowl, who without +contributing to the grandeur, yet greatly add to the beauty of the scene. The +yellow-bird flits like a winged jonquil here and there; like knots of violets +the blue-birds sport in clusters upon the grass; while hurrying from the +pasture to the grove, the red robin seems an incendiary putting torch to the +trees. Meanwhile the air is vocal with their hymns, and your own soul joys in +the general joy. Like a stranger in an orchestra, you cannot help singing +yourself when all around you raise such hosannas. +</p> + +<p> +But in autumn, those gay northerners, the birds, return to their southern +plantations. The mountains are left bleak and sere. Solitude settles down upon +them in drizzling mists. The traveller is beset, at perilous turns, by dense +masses of fog. He emerges for a moment into more penetrable air; and passing +some gray, abandoned house, sees the lofty vapors plainly eddy by its desolate +door; just as from the plain you may see it eddy by the pinnacles of distant +and lonely heights. Or, dismounting from his frightened horse, he leads him +down some scowling glen, where the road steeply dips among grim rocks, only to +rise as abruptly again; and as he warily picks his way, uneasy at the menacing +scene, he sees some ghost-like object looming through the mist at the roadside; +and wending towards it, beholds a rude white stone, uncouthly inscribed, +marking the spot where, some fifty or sixty years ago, some farmer was upset in +his wood-sled, and perished beneath the load. +</p> + +<p> +In winter this region is blocked up with snow. Inaccessible and impassable, +those wild, unfrequented roads, which in August are overgrown with high grass, +in December are drifted to the arm-pit with the white fleece from the sky. As +if an ocean rolled between man and man, intercommunication is often suspended +for weeks and weeks. +</p> + +<p> +Such, at this day, is the country which gave birth to our hero: prophetically +styled Israel by the good Puritans, his parents, since, for more than forty +years, poor Potter wandered in the wild wilderness of the world’s +extremest hardships and ills. +</p> + +<p> +How little he thought, when, as a boy, hunting after his father’s stray +cattle among these New England hills he himself like a beast should be hunted +through half of Old England, as a runaway rebel. Or, how could he ever have +dreamed, when involved in the autumnal vapors of these mountains, that worse +bewilderments awaited him three thousand miles across the sea, wandering +forlorn in the coal- foes of London. But so it was destined to be. This little +boy of the hills, born in sight of the sparkling Housatonic, was to linger out +the best part of his life a prisoner or a pauper upon the grimy banks of the +Thames. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II.<br/> +THE YOUTHFUL ADVENTURES OF ISRAEL.</h2> + +<p> +Imagination will easily picture the rural day of the youth of Israel. Let us +pass on to a less immature period. +</p> + +<p> +It appears that he began his wanderings very early; moreover, that ere, on just +principles throwing off the yoke off his king, Israel, on equally excusable +grounds, emancipated himself from his sire. He continued in the enjoyment of +parental love till the age of eighteen, when, having formed an attachment for a +neighbor’s daughter—for some reason, not deemed a suitable match by +his father—he was severely reprimanded, warned to discontinue his visits, +and threatened with some disgraceful punishment in case he persisted. As the +girl was not only beautiful, but amiable—though, as will be seen, rather +weak—and her family as respectable as any, though unfortunately but poor, +Israel deemed his father’s conduct unreasonable and oppressive; +particularly as it turned out that he had taken secret means to thwart his son +with the girl’s connections, if not with the girl herself, so as to place +almost insurmountable obstacles to an eventual marriage. For it had not been +the purpose of Israel to marry at once, but at a future day, when prudence +should approve the step. So, oppressed by his father, and bitterly disappointed +in his love, the desperate boy formed the determination to quit them both for +another home and other friends. +</p> + +<p> +It was on Sunday, while the family were gone to a farmhouse church near by, +that he packed up as much of his clothing as might be contained in a +handkerchief, which, with a small quantity of provision, he hid in a piece of +woods in the rear of the house. He then returned, and continued in the house +till about nine in the evening, when, pretending to go to bed, he passed out of +a back door, and hastened to the woods for his bundle. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sultry night in July; and that he might travel with the more ease on +the succeeding day, he lay down at the foot of a pine tree, reposing himself +till an hour before dawn, when, upon awaking, he heard the soft, prophetic +sighing of the pine, stirred by the first breath of the morning. Like the +leaflets of that evergreen, all the fibres of his heart trembled within him; +tears fell from his eyes. But he thought of the tyranny of his father, and what +seemed to him the faithlessness of his love; and shouldering his bundle, arose, +and marched on. +</p> + +<p> +His intention was to reach the new countries to the northward and westward, +lying between the Dutch settlements on the Hudson, and the Yankee settlements +on the Housatonic. This was mainly to elude all search. For the same reason, +for the first ten or twelve miles, shunning the public roads, he travelled +through the woods; for he knew that he would soon be missed and pursued. +</p> + +<p> +He reached his destination in safety; hired out to a farmer for a month through +the harvest; then crossed from the Hudson to the Connecticut. Meeting here with +an adventurer to the unknown regions lying about the head waters of the latter +river, he ascended with this man in a canoe, paddling and pulling for many +miles. Here again he hired himself out for three months; at the end of that +time to receive for his wages two hundred acres of land lying in New Hampshire. +The cheapness of the land was not alone owing to the newness of the country, +but to the perils investing it. Not only was it a wilderness abounding with +wild beasts, but the widely-scattered inhabitants were in continual dread of +being, at some unguarded moment, destroyed or made captive by the Canadian +savages, who, ever since the French war, had improved every opportunity to make +forays across the defenceless frontier. +</p> + +<p> +His employer proving false to his contract in the matter of the land, and there +being no law in the country to force him to fulfil it, Israel—who, +however brave-hearted, and even much of a dare-devil upon a pinch, seems +nevertheless to have evinced, throughout many parts of his career, a singular +patience and mildness—was obliged to look round for other means of +livelihood than clearing out a farm for himself in the wilderness. A party of +royal surveyors were at this period surveying the unsettled regions bordering +the Connecticut river to its source. At fifteen shillings per month, he engaged +himself to this party as assistant chain-bearer, little thinking that the day +was to come when he should clank the king’s chains in a dungeon, even as +now he trailed them a free ranger of the woods. It was midwinter; the land was +surveyed upon snow-shoes. At the close of the day, fires were kindled with dry +hemlock, a hut thrown up, and the party ate and slept. +</p> + +<p> +Paid off at last, Israel bought a gun and ammunition, and turned hunter. Deer, +beaver, etc., were plenty. In two or three months he had many skins to show. I +suppose it never entered his mind that he was thus qualifying himself for a +marksman of men. But thus were tutored those wonderful shots who did such +execution at Bunker’s Hill; these, the hunter-soldiers, whom Putnam bade +wait till the white of the enemy’s eye was seen. +</p> + +<p> +With the result of his hunting he purchased a hundred acres of land, further +down the river, toward the more settled parts; built himself a log hut, and in +two summers, with his own hands, cleared thirty acres for sowing. In the winter +seasons he hunted and trapped. At the end of the two years, he sold back his +land—now much improved—to the original owner, at an advance of +fifty pounds. He conveyed his cash and furs to Charlestown, on the Connecticut +(sometimes called No. 4), where he trafficked them away for Indian blankets, +pigments, and other showy articles adapted to the business of a trader among +savages. It was now winter again. Putting his goods on a hand-sled, he started +towards Canada, a peddler in the wilderness, stopping at wigwams instead of +cottages. One fancies that, had it been summer, Israel would have travelled +with a wheelbarrow, and so trundled his wares through the primeval forests, +with the same indifference as porters roll their barrows over the flagging of +streets. In this way was bred that fearless self-reliance and independence +which conducted our forefathers to national freedom. +</p> + +<p> +This Canadian trip proved highly successful. Selling his glittering goods at a +great advance, he received in exchange valuable peltries and furs at a +corresponding reduction. Returning to Charlestown, he disposed of his return +cargo again at a very fine profit. And now, with a light heart and a heavy +purse, he resolved to visit his sweetheart and parents, of whom, for three +years, he had had no tidings. +</p> + +<p> +They were not less astonished than delighted at his reappearance; he had been +numbered with the dead. But his love still seemed strangely coy; willing, but +yet somehow mysteriously withheld. The old intrigues were still on foot. Israel +soon discovered, that though rejoiced to welcome the return of the prodigal +son—so some called him—his father still remained inflexibly +determined against the match, and still inexplicably countermined his wooing. +With a dolorous heart he mildly yielded to what seemed his fatality; and more +intrepid in facing peril for himself, than in endangering others by maintaining +his rights (for he was now one-and-twenty), resolved once more to retreat, and +quit his blue hills for the bluer billows. +</p> + +<p> +A hermitage in the forest is the refuge of the narrow-minded misanthrope; a +hammock on the ocean is the asylum for the generous distressed. The ocean brims +with natural griefs and tragedies; and into that watery immensity of terror, +man’s private grief is lost like a drop. +</p> + +<p> +Travelling on foot to Providence, Rhode Island, Israel shipped on board a +sloop, bound with lime to the West Indies. On the tenth day out, the vessel +caught fire, from water communicating with the lime. It was impossible to +extinguish the flames. The boat was hoisted out, but owing to long exposure to +the sun, it needed continual bailing to keep it afloat. They had only time to +put in a firkin of butter and a ten-gallon keg of water. Eight in number, the +crew entrusted themselves to the waves, in a leaky tub, many leagues from land. +As the boat swept under the burning bowsprit, Israel caught at a fragment of +the flying-jib, which sail had fallen down the stay, owing to the charring, +nigh the deck, of the rope which hoisted it. Tanned with the smoke, and its +edge blackened with the fire, this bit of canvass helped them bravely on their +way. Thanks to kind Providence, on the second day they were picked up by a +Dutch ship, bound from Eustatia to Holland. The castaways were humanely +received, and supplied with every necessary. At the end of a week, while +unsophisticated Israel was sitting in the maintop, thinking what should befall +him in Holland, and wondering what sort of unsettled, wild country it was, and +whether there was any deer-shooting or beaver-trapping there, lo! an American +brig, bound from Piscataqua to Antigua, comes in sight. The American took them +aboard, and conveyed them safely to her port. There Israel shipped for Porto +Rico; from thence, sailed to Eustatia. +</p> + +<p> +Other rovings ensued; until at last, entering on board a Nantucket ship, he +hunted the leviathan off the Western Islands and on the coast of Africa, for +sixteen months; returning at length to Nantucket with a brimming hold. From +that island he sailed again on another whaling voyage, extending, this time, +into the great South Sea. There, promoted to be harpooner, Israel, whose eye +and arm had been so improved by practice with his gun in the wilderness, now +further intensified his aim, by darting the whale-lance; still, unwittingly, +preparing himself for the Bunker Hill rifle. +</p> + +<p> +In this last voyage, our adventurer experienced to the extreme all the +hardships and privations of the whaleman’s life on a long voyage to +distant and barbarous waters—hardships and privations unknown at the +present day, when science has so greatly contributed, in manifold ways, to +lessen the sufferings, and add to the comforts of seafaring men. Heartily sick +of the ocean, and longing once more for the bush, Israel, upon receiving his +discharge at Nantucket at the end of the voyage, hied straight back for his +mountain home. +</p> + +<p> +But if hopes of his sweetheart winged his returning flight, such hopes were not +destined to be crowned with fruition. The dear, false girl was another’s. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III.<br/> +ISRAEL GOES TO THE WARS; AND REACHING BUNKER HILL IN TIME TO BE OF SERVICE +THERE, SOON AFTER IS FORCED TO EXTEND HIS TRAVELS ACROSS THE SEA INTO THE +ENEMY’S LAND.</h2> + +<p> +Left to idle lamentations, Israel might now have planted deep furrows in his +brow. But stifling his pain, he chose rather to plough, than be ploughed. +Farming weans man from his sorrows. That tranquil pursuit tolerates nothing but +tranquil meditations. There, too, in mother earth, you may plant and reap; not, +as in other things, plant and see the planting torn up by the roots. But if +wandering in the wilderness, and wandering upon the waters, if felling trees, +and hunting, and shipwreck, and fighting with whales, and all his other strange +adventures, had not as yet cured poor Israel of his now hopeless passion, +events were at hand for ever to drown it. +</p> + +<p> +It was the year 1774. The difficulties long pending between the colonies and +England were arriving at their crisis. Hostilities were certain. The Americans +were preparing themselves. Companies were formed in most of the New England +towns, whose members, receiving the name of minute-men, stood ready to march +anywhere at a minute’s warning. Israel, for the last eight months, +sojourning as a laborer on a farm in Windsor, enrolled himself in the regiment +of Colonel John Patterson of Lenox, afterwards General Patterson. +</p> + +<p> +The battle of Lexington was fought on the 18th of April, 1775; news of it +arrived in the county of Berkshire on the 20th about noon. The next morning at +sunrise, Israel swung his knapsack, shouldered his musket, and, with +Patterson’s regiment, was on the march, quickstep, towards Boston. +</p> + +<p> +Like Putnam, Israel received the stirring tidings at the plough. But although +not less willing than Putnam to fly to battle at an instant’s notice, +yet—only half an acre of the field remaining to be finished—he +whipped up his team and finished it. Before hastening to one duty, he would not +leave a prior one undone; and ere helping to whip the British, for a little +practice’ sake, he applied the gad to his oxen. From the field of the +farmer, he rushed to that of the soldier, mingling his blood with his sweat. +While we revel in broadcloth, let us not forget what we owe to linsey-woolsey. +</p> + +<p> +With other detachments from various quarters, Israel’s regiment remained +encamped for several days in the vicinity of Charlestown. On the seventeenth of +June, one thousand Americans, including the regiment of Patterson, were set +about fortifying Bunker’s Hill. Working all through the night, by dawn of +the following day, the redoubt was thrown up. But every one knows all about the +battle. Suffice it, that Israel was one of those marksmen whom Putnam harangued +as touching the enemy’s eyes. Forbearing as he was with his oppressive +father and unfaithful love, and mild as he was on the farm, Israel was not the +same at Bunker Hill. Putnam had enjoined the men to aim at the officers; so +Israel aimed between the golden epaulettes, as, in the wilderness, he had aimed +between the branching antlers. With dogged disdain of their foes, the English +grenadiers marched up the hill with sullen slowness; thus furnishing still +surer aims to the muskets which bristled on the redoubt. Modest Israel was used +to aver, that considering his practice in the woods, he could hardly be +regarded as an inexperienced marksman; hinting, that every shot which the +epauletted grenadiers received from his rifle, would, upon a different +occasion, have procured him a deerskin. And like stricken deers the English, +rashly brave as they were, fled from the opening fire. But the marksman’s +ammunition was expended; a hand-to-hand encounter ensued. Not one American +musket in twenty had a bayonet to it. So, wielding the stock right and left, +the terrible farmers, with hats and coats off, fought their way among the +furred grenadiers, knocking them right and left, as seal-hunters on the beach +knock down with their clubs the Shetland seal. In the dense crowd and +confusion, while Israel’s musket got interlocked, he saw a blade +horizontally menacing his feet from the ground. Thinking some fallen enemy +sought to strike him at the last gasp, dropping his hold on his musket, he +wrenched at the steel, but found that though a brave hand held it, that hand +was powerless for ever. It was some British officer’s laced sword-arm, +cut from the trunk in the act of fighting, refusing to yield up its blade to +the last. At that moment another sword was aimed at Israel’s head by a +living officer. In an instant the blow was parried by kindred steel, and the +assailant fell by a brother’s weapon, wielded by alien hands. But Israel +did not come off unscathed. A cut on the right arm near the elbow, received in +parrying the officer’s blow, a long slit across the chest, a musket ball +buried in his hip, and another mangling him near the ankle of the same leg, +were the tokens of intrepidity which our Sicinius Dentatus carried from this +memorable field. Nevertheless, with his comrades he succeeded in reaching +Prospect Hill, and from thence was conveyed to the hospital at Cambridge. The +bullet was extracted, his lesser wounds were dressed, and after much suffering +from the fracture of the bone near the ankle, several pieces of which were +extracted by the surgeon, ere long, thanks to the high health and pure blood of +the farmer, Israel rejoined his regiment when they were throwing up +intrenchments on Prospect Hill. Bunker Hill was now in possession of the foe, +who in turn had fortified it. +</p> + +<p> +On the third of July, Washington arrived from the South to take the command. +Israel witnessed his joyful reception by the huzzaing companies. +</p> + +<p> +The British now quartered in Boston suffered greatly from the scarcity of +provisions. Washington took every precaution to prevent their receiving a +supply. Inland, all aid could easily be cut off. To guard against their +receiving any by water, from tories and other disaffected persons, the General +equipped three armed vessels to intercept all traitorous cruisers. Among them +was the brigantine Washington, of ten guns, commanded by Captain Martiedale. +Seamen were hard to be had. The soldiers were called upon to volunteer for +these vessels. Israel was one who so did; thinking that as an experienced +sailor he should not be backward in a juncture like this, little as he fancied +the new service assigned. +</p> + +<p> +Three days out of Boston harbor, the brigantine was captured by the +enemy’s ship Foy, of twenty guns. Taken prisoner with the rest of the +crew, Israel was afterwards put on board the frigate Tartar, with immediate +sailing orders for England. Seventy-two were captives in this vessel. Headed by +Israel, these men—half way across the sea—formed a scheme to take +the ship, but were betrayed by a renegade Englishman. As ringleader, Israel was +put in irons, and so remained till the frigate anchored at Portsmouth. There he +was brought on deck; and would have met perhaps some terrible fate, had it not +come out, during the examination, that the Englishman had been a deserter from +the army of his native country ere proving a traitor to his adopted one. +Relieved of his irons, Israel was placed in the marine hospital on shore, where +half of the prisoners took the small-pox, which swept off a third of their +number. Why talk of Jaffa? +</p> + +<p> +From the hospital the survivors were conveyed to Spithead, and thrust on board +a hulk. And here in the black bowels of the ship, sunk low in the sunless sea, +our poor Israel lay for a month, like Jonah in the belly of the whale. +</p> + +<p> +But one bright morning, Israel is hailed from the deck. A bargeman of the +commander’s boat is sick. Known for a sailor, Israel for the nonce is +appointed to pull the absent man’s oar. +</p> + +<p> +The officers being landed, some of the crew propose, like merry Englishmen as +they are, to hie to a neighboring ale-house, and have a cosy pot or two +together. Agreed. They start, and Israel with them. As they enter the ale-house +door, our prisoner is suddenly reminded of still more imperative calls. +Unsuspected of any design, he is allowed to leave the party for a moment. No +sooner does Israel see his companions housed, than putting speed into his feet, +and letting grow all his wings, he starts like a deer. He runs four miles (so +he afterwards affirmed) without halting. He sped towards London; wisely deeming +that once in that crowd detection would be impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Ten miles, as he computed, from where he had left the bargemen, leisurely +passing a public house of a little village on the roadside, thinking himself +now pretty safe—hark, what is this he hears?— +</p> + +<p> +“Ahoy!” +</p> + +<p> +“No ship,” says Israel, hurrying on. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will attend to your business, I will endeavor to attend to +mine,” replies Israel coolly. And next minute he lets grow his wings +again; flying, one dare say, at the rate of something less than thirty miles an +hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop thief!” is now the cry. Numbers rushed from the roadside +houses. After a mile’s chase, the poor panting deer is caught. +</p> + +<p> +Finding it was no use now to prevaricate, Israel boldly confesses himself a +prisoner-of-war. The officer, a good fellow as it turned out, had him escorted +back to the inn; where, observing to the landlord that this must needs be a +true-blooded Yankee, he calls for liquors to refresh Israel after his run. Two +soldiers are then appointed to guard him for the present. This was towards +evening; and up to a late hour at night, the inn was filled with strangers +crowding to see the Yankee rebel, as they politely termed him. These honest +rustics seemed to think that Yankees were a sort of wild creatures, a species +of ’possum or kangaroo. But Israel is very affable with them. That liquor +he drank from the hand of his foe, has perhaps warmed his heart towards all the +rest of his enemies. Yet this may not be wholly so. We shall see. At any rate, +still he keeps his eye on the main chance—escape. Neither the jokes nor +the insults of the mob does he suffer to molest him. He is cogitating a little +plot to himself. +</p> + +<p> +It seems that the good officer—not more true to the king his master than +indulgent towards the prisoner which that same loyalty made—had left +orders that Israel should be supplied with whatever liquor he wanted that +night. So, calling for the can again and again, Israel invites the two soldiers +to drink and be merry. At length, a wag of the company proposes that Israel +should entertain the public with a jig, he (the wag) having heard that the +Yankees were extraordinary dancers. A fiddle is brought in, and poor Israel +takes the floor. Not a little cut to think that these people should so +unfeelingly seek to be diverted at the expense of an unfortunate prisoner, +Israel, while jigging it up and down, still conspires away at his private plot, +resolving ere long to give the enemy a touch of certain Yankee steps, as yet +undreamed of in their simple philosophy. They would not permit any cessation of +his dancing till he had danced himself into a perfect sweat, so that the drops +fell from his lank and flaxen hair. But Israel, with much of the gentleness of +the dove, is not wholly without the wisdom of the serpent. Pleased to see the +flowing bowl, he congratulates himself that his own state of perspiration +prevents it from producing any intoxicating effect upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Late at night the company break up. Furnished with a pair of handcuffs, the +prisoner is laid on a blanket spread upon the floor at the side of the bed in +which his two keepers are to repose. Expressing much gratitude for the blanket, +with apparent unconcern, Israel stretches his legs. An hour or two passes. All +is quiet without. +</p> + +<p> +The important moment had now arrived. Certain it was, that if this chance were +suffered to pass unimproved, a second would hardly present itself. For early, +doubtless, on the following morning, if not some way prevented, the two +soldiers would convey Israel back to his floating prison, where he would +thenceforth remain confined until the close of the war; years and years, +perhaps. When he thought of that horrible old hulk, his nerves were restrung +for flight. But intrepid as he must be to compass it, wariness too was needed. +His keepers had gone to bed pretty well under the influence of the liquor. This +was favorable. But still, they were full-grown, strong men; and Israel was +handcuffed. So Israel resolved upon strategy first; and if that failed, force +afterwards. He eagerly listened. One of the drunken soldiers muttered in his +sleep, at first lowly, then louder and louder,—“Catch ’em! +Grapple ’em! Have at ’em! Ha—long cutlasses! Take that, +runaway!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with ye, Phil?” hiccoughed the other, who +was not yet asleep. “Keep quiet, will ye? Ye ain’t at Fontenoy +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a runaway prisoner, I say. Catch him, catch him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, stush with your drunken dreaming,” again hiccoughed his +comrade, violently nudging him. “This comes o’ carousing.” +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after, the dreamer with loud snores fell back into dead sleep. But by +something in the sound of the breathing of the other soldier, Israel knew that +this man remained uneasily awake. He deliberated a moment what was best to do. +At length he determined upon trying his old plea. Calling upon the two +soldiers, he informed them that urgent necessity required his immediate +presence somewhere in the rear of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, wake up here, Phil,” roared the soldier who was awake; +“the fellow here says he must step out; cuss these Yankees; no better +edication than to be gettin’ up on nateral necessities at this time +o’night. It ain’t nateral; its unnateral. D—-n ye, Yankee, +don’t ye know no better?” +</p> + +<p> +With many more denunciations, the two now staggered to their feet, and +clutching hold of Israel, escorted him down stairs, and through a long, narrow, +dark entry; rearward, till they came to a door. No sooner was this unbolted by +the foremost guard, than, quick as a flash, manacled Israel, shaking off the +grasp of the one behind him, butts him sprawling back into the entry; when, +dashing in the opposite direction, he bounces the other head over heels into +the garden, never using a hand; and then, leaping over the latter’s head, +darts blindly out into the midnight. Next moment he was at the garden wall. No +outlet was discoverable in the gloom. But a fruit-tree grew close to the wall. +Springing into it desperately, handcuffed as he was, Israel leaps atop of the +barrier, and without pausing to see where he is, drops himself to the ground on +the other side, and once more lets grow all his wings. Meantime, with loud +outcries, the two baffled drunkards grope deliriously about in the garden. +</p> + +<p> +After running two or three miles, and hearing no sound of pursuit, Israel reins +up to rid himself of the handcuffs, which impede him. After much painful labor +he succeeds in the attempt. Pressing on again with all speed, day broke, +revealing a trim-looking, hedged, and beautiful country, soft, neat, and +serene, all colored with the fresh early tints of the spring of 1776. +</p> + +<p> +Bless me, thought Israel, all of a tremble, I shall certainly be caught now; I +have broken into some nobleman’s park. +</p> + +<p> +But, hurrying forward again, he came to a turnpike road, and then knew that, +all comely and shaven as it was, this was simply the open country of England; +one bright, broad park, paled in with white foam of the sea. A copse skirting +the road was just bursting out into bud. Each unrolling leaf was in very act of +escaping from its prison. Israel looked at the budding leaves, and round on the +budding sod, and up at the budding dawn of the day. He was so sad, and these +sights were so gay, that Israel sobbed like a child, while thoughts of his +mountain home rushed like a wind on his heart. But conquering this fit, he +marched on, and presently passed nigh a field, where two figures were working. +They had rosy cheeks, short, sturdy legs, showing the blue stocking nearly to +the knee, and were clad in long, coarse, white frocks, and had on coarse, +broad-brimmed straw hats. Their faces were partly averted. +</p> + +<p> +“Please, ladies,” half roguishly says Israel, taking off his hat, +“does this road go to London?” +</p> + +<p> +At this salutation, the two figures turned in a sort of stupid amazement, +causing an almost corresponding expression in Israel, who now perceived that +they were men, and not women. He had mistaken them, owing to their frocks, and +their wearing no pantaloons, only breeches hidden by their frocks. +</p> + +<p> +“Beg pardon, ladies, but I thought ye were something else,” said +Israel again. +</p> + +<p> +Once more the two figures stared at the stranger, and with added boorishness of +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Does this road go to London, gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen—egad!” cried one of the two. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad!” echoed the second. +</p> + +<p> +Putting their hoes before them, the two frocked boors now took a good long look +at Israel, meantime scratching their heads under their plaited straw hats. +</p> + +<p> +“Does it, gentlemen? Does it go to London? Be kind enough to tell a poor +fellow, do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yees goin’ to Lunnun, are yees? Weel—all right—go +along.” +</p> + +<p> +And without another word, having now satisfied their rustic curiosity, the two +human steers, with wonderful phlegm, applied themselves to their hoes; +supposing, no doubt, that they had given all requisite information. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after, Israel passed an old, dark, mossy-looking chapel, its roof all +plastered with the damp yellow dead leaves of the previous autumn, showered +there from a close cluster of venerable trees, with great trunks, and +overstretching branches. Next moment he found himself entering a village. The +silence of early morning rested upon it. But few figures were seen. Glancing +through the window of a now noiseless public-house, Israel saw a table all in +disorder, covered with empty flagons, and tobacco-ashes, and long pipes; some +of the latter broken. +</p> + +<p> +After pausing here a moment, he moved on, and observed a man over the way +standing still and watching him. Instantly Israel was reminded that he had on +the dress of an English sailor, and that it was this probably which had +arrested the stranger’s attention. Well knowing that his peculiar dress +exposed him to peril, he hurried on faster to escape the village; resolving at +the first opportunity to change his garments. Ere long, in a secluded place +about a mile from the village, he saw an old ditcher tottering beneath the +weight of a pick-axe, hoe and shovel, going to his work; the very picture of +poverty, toil and distress. His clothes were tatters. +</p> + +<p> +Making up to this old man, Israel, after a word or two of salutation, offered +to change clothes with him. As his own clothes were prince-like compared to the +ditchers, Israel thought that however much his proposition might excite the +suspicion of the ditcher, yet self-interest would prevent his communicating the +suspicions. To be brief, the two went behind a hedge, and presently Israel +emerged, presenting the most forlorn appearance conceivable; while the old +ditcher hobbled off in an opposite direction, correspondingly improved in his +aspect; though it was rather ludicrous than otherwise, owing to the immense +bagginess of the sailor-trowsers flapping about his lean shanks, to say nothing +of the spare voluminousness of the pea-jacket. But Israel—how deplorable, +how dismal his plight! Little did he ween that these wretched rags he now wore, +were but suitable to that long career of destitution before him: one brief +career of adventurous wanderings; and then, forty torpid years of pauperism. +The coat was all patches. And no two patches were alike, and no one patch was +the color of the original cloth. The stringless breeches gaped wide open at the +knee; the long woollen stockings looked as if they had been set up at some time +for a target. Israel looked suddenly metamorphosed from youth to old age; just +like an old man of eighty he looked. But, indeed, dull, dreary adversity was +now in store for him; and adversity, come it at eighteen or eighty, is the true +old age of man. The dress befitted the fate. +</p> + +<p> +From the friendly old ditcher, Israel learned the exact course he must steer +for London; distant now between seventy and eighty miles. He was also apprised +by his venerable friend, that the country was filled with soldiers on the +constant look-out for deserters whether from the navy or army, for the capture +of whom a stipulated reward was given, just as in Massachusetts at that time +for prowling bears. +</p> + +<p> +Having solemnly enjoined his old friend not to give any information, should any +one he meet inquire for such a person as Israel, our adventurer walked briskly +on, less heavy of heart, now that he felt comparatively safe in disguise. +</p> + +<p> +Thirty miles were travelled that day. At night Israel stole into a barn, in +hopes of finding straw or hay for a bed. But it was spring; all the hay and +straw were gone. So after groping about in the dark, he was fain to content +himself with an undressed sheep-skin. Cold, hungry, foot-sore, weary, and +impatient for the morning dawn, Israel drearily dozed out the night. +</p> + +<p> +By the first peep of day coming through the chinks of the barn, he was up and +abroad. Ere long finding himself in the suburbs of a considerable village, the +better to guard against detection he supplied himself with a rude crutch, and +feigning himself a cripple, hobbled straight through the town, followed by a +perverse-minded cur, which kept up a continual, spiteful, suspicious bark. +Israel longed to have one good rap at him with his crutch, but thought it would +hardly look in character for a poor old cripple to be vindictive. +</p> + +<p> +A few miles further, and he came to a second village. While hobbling through +its main street, as through the former one, he was suddenly stopped by a +genuine cripple, all in tatters, too, who, with a sympathetic air, inquired +after the cause of his lameness. +</p> + +<p> +“White swelling,” says Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just my ailing,” wheezed the other; “but +you’re lamer than me,” he added with a forlorn sort of +self-satisfaction, critically eyeing Israel’s limp as once, more he +stumped on his way, not liking to tarry too long. +</p> + +<p> +“But halloo, what’s your hurry, friend?” seeing Israel fairly +departing—“where’re you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“To London,” answered Israel, turning round, heartily wishing the +old fellow any where else than present. +</p> + +<p> +“Going to limp to Lunnun, eh? Well, success to ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“As much to you, sir,” answers Israel politely. +</p> + +<p> +Nigh the opposite suburbs of this village, as good fortune would have it, an +empty baggage-wagon bound for the metropolis turned into the main road from a +side one. Immediately Israel limps most deplorably, and begs the driver to give +a poor cripple a lift. So up he climbs; but after a time, finding the gait of +the elephantine draught-horses intolerably slow, Israel craves permission to +dismount, when, throwing away his crutch, he takes nimbly to his legs, much to +the surprise of his honest friend the driver. +</p> + +<p> +The only advantage, if any, derived from his trip in the wagon, was, when +passing through a third village—but a little distant from the previous +one—Israel, by lying down in the wagon, had wholly avoided being seen. +</p> + +<p> +The villages surprised him by their number and proximity. Nothing like this was +to be seen at home. Well knowing that in these villages he ran much more risk +of detection than in the open country, he henceforth did his best to avoid +them, by taking a roundabout course whenever they came in sight from a +distance. This mode of travelling not only lengthened his journey, but put +unlooked-for obstacles in his path—walls, ditches, and streams. +</p> + +<p> +Not half an hour after throwing away his crutch, he leaped a great ditch ten +feet wide, and of undiscoverable muddy depth. I wonder if the old cripple would +think me the lamer one now, thought Israel to himself, arriving on the hither +side. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV.<br/> +FURTHER WANDERINGS OF THE REFUGEE, WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF A GOOD KNIGHT OF +BRENTFORD WHO BEFRIENDED HIM.</h2> + +<p> +At nightfall, on the third day, Israel had arrived within sixteen miles of the +capital. Once more he sought refuge in a barn. This time he found some hay, and +flinging himself down procured a tolerable night’s rest. +</p> + +<p> +Bright and early he arose refreshed, with the pleasing prospect of reaching his +destination ere noon. Encouraged to find himself now so far from his original +pursuers, Israel relaxed in his vigilance, and about ten o’clock, while +passing through the town of Staines, suddenly encountered three soldiers. +Unfortunately in exchanging clothes with the ditcher, he could not bring +himself to include his shirt in the traffic, which shirt was a British navy +shirt, a bargeman’s shirt, and though hitherto he had crumpled the blue +collar out of sight, yet, as it appeared in the present instance, it was not +thoroughly concealed. At any rate, keenly on the look-out for deserters, and +made acute by hopes of reward for their apprehension, the soldiers spied the +fatal collar, and in an instant laid violent hands on the refugee. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, lad!” said the foremost soldier, a corporal, “you are +one of his majesty’s seamen! come along with ye.” +</p> + +<p> +So, unable to give any satisfactory account of himself, he was made prisoner on +the spot, and soon after found himself handcuffed and locked up in the Bound +House of the place, a prison so called, appropriated to runaways, and those +convicted of minor offences. Day passed dinnerless and supperless in this +dismal durance, and night came on. +</p> + +<p> +Israel had now been three days without food, except one two-penny loaf. The +cravings of hunger now became sharper; his spirits, hitherto arming him with +fortitude, began to forsake him. Taken captive once again upon the very brink +of reaching his goal, poor Israel was on the eve of falling into helpless +despair. But he rallied, and considering that grief would only add to his +calamity, sought with stubborn patience to habituate himself to misery, but +still hold aloof from despondency. He roused himself, and began to bethink him +how to be extricated from this labyrinth. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours sawing across the grating of the window, ridded him of his handcuffs. +Next came the door, secured luckily with only a hasp and padlock. Thrusting the +bolt of his handcuffs through a small window in the door, he succeeded in +forcing the hasp and regaining his liberty about three o’clock in the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after sunrise, he passed nigh Brentford, some six or seven miles from +the capital. So great was his hunger that downright starvation seemed before +him. He chewed grass, and swallowed it. Upon first escaping from the hulk, six +English pennies was all the money he had. With two of these he had bought a +small loaf the day after fleeing the inn. The other four still remained in his +pocket, not having met with a good opportunity to dispose of them for food. +</p> + +<p> +Having torn off the collar of his shirt, and flung it into a hedge, he ventured +to accost a respectable carpenter at a pale fence, about a mile this side of +Brentford, to whom his deplorable situation now induced him to apply for work. +The man did not wish himself to hire, but said that if he (Israel) understood +farming or gardening, he might perhaps procure work from Sir John Millet, whose +seat, he said, was not remote. He added that the knight was in the habit of +employing many men at that season of the year, so he stood a fair chance. +</p> + +<p> +Revived a little by this prospect of relief, Israel starts in quest of the +gentleman’s seat, agreeably to the direction received. But he mistook his +way, and proceeding up a gravelled and beautifully decorated walk, was +terrified at catching a glimpse of a number of soldiers thronging a garden. He +made an instant retreat before being espied in turn. No wild creature of the +American wilderness could have been more panic-struck by a firebrand, than at +this period hunted Israel was by a red coat. It afterwards appeared that this +garden was the Princess Amelia’s. +</p> + +<p> +Taking another path, ere long he came to some laborers shovelling gravel. These +proved to be men employed by Sir John. By them he was directed towards the +house, when the knight was pointed out to him, walking bare-headed in the +inclosure with several guests. Having heard the rich men of England charged +with all sorts of domineering qualities, Israel felt no little misgiving in +approaching to an audience with so imposing a stranger. But, screwing up his +courage, he advanced; while seeing him coming all rags and tatters, the group +of gentlemen stood in some wonder awaiting what so singular a phantom might +want. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Millet,” said Israel, bowing towards the bare-headed +gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha,—who are you, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“A poor fellow, sir, in want of work.” +</p> + +<p> +“A wardrobe, too, I should say,” smiled one of the guests, of a +very youthful, prosperous, and dandified air. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s your hoe?” said Sir John. +</p> + +<p> +“I have none, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any money to buy one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only four English pennies, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>English</i> pennies. What other sort would you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, China pennies to be sure,” laughed the youthful gentleman. +“See his long, yellow hair behind; he looks like a Chinaman. Some +broken-down Mandarin. Pity he’s no crown to his old hat; if he had, he +might pass it round, and make eight pennies of his four.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you hire me, Mr. Millet,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! that’s queer again,” cried the knight. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark ye, fellow,” said a brisk servant, approaching from the +porch, “this is Sir John Millet.” +</p> + +<p> +Seeming to take pity on his seeming ignorance, as well as on his undisputable +poverty, the good knight now told Israel that if he would come the next morning +he would see him supplied with a hoe, and moreover would hire him. +</p> + +<p> +It would be hard to express the satisfaction of the wanderer at receiving this +encouraging reply. Emboldened by it, he now returns towards a baker’s he +had spied, and bravely marching in, flings down all four pennies, and demands +bread. Thinking he would not have any more food till next morning, Israel +resolved to eat only one of the pair of two-penny loaves. But having demolished +one, it so sharpened his longing, that yielding to the irresistible temptation, +he bolted down the second loaf to keep the other company. +</p> + +<p> +After resting under a hedge, he saw the sun far descended, and so prepared +himself for another hard night. Waiting till dark, he crawled into an old +carriage-house, finding nothing there but a dismantled old phaeton. Into this +he climbed, and curling himself up like a carriage-dog, endeavored to sleep; +but, unable to endure the constraint of such a bed, got out, and stretched +himself on the bare boards of the floor. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner was light in the east than he fastened to await the commands of one +who, his instinct told him, was destined to prove his benefactor. On his +father’s farm accustomed to rise with the lark, Israel was surprised to +discover, as he approached the house, that no soul was astir. It was four +o’clock. For a considerable time he walked back and forth before the +portal ere any one appeared. The first riser was a man servant of the +household, who informed Israel that seven o’clock was the hour the people +went to their work. Soon after he met an hostler of the place, who gave him +permission to lie on some straw in an outhouse. There he enjoyed a sweet sleep +till awakened at seven o’clock by the sounds of activity around him. +</p> + +<p> +Supplied by the overseer of the men with a large iron fork and a hoe, he +followed the hands into the field. He was so weak he could hardly support his +tools. Unwilling to expose his debility, he yet could not succeed in concealing +it. At last, to avoid worse imputations, he confessed the cause. His companions +regarded him with compassion, and exempted him from the severer toil. +</p> + +<p> +About noon the knight visited his workmen. Noticing that Israel made little +progress, he said to him, that though he had long arms and broad shoulders, yet +he was feigning himself to be a very weak man, or otherwise must in reality be +so. +</p> + +<p> +Hereupon one of the laborers standing by informed the gentleman how it was with +Israel, when immediately the knight put a shilling into his hands and bade him +go to a little roadside inn, which was nearer than the house, and buy him bread +and a pot of beer. Thus refreshed he returned to the band, and toiled with them +till four o’clock, when the day’s work was over. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the house he there again saw his employer, who, after attentively +eyeing him without speaking, bade a meal be prepared for him, when the maid +presenting a smaller supply than her kind master deemed necessary, she was +ordered to return and bring out the entire dish. But aware of the danger of +sudden repletion of heavy food to one in his condition, Israel, previously +recruited by the frugal meal at the inn, partook but sparingly. The repast was +spread on the grass, and being over, the good knight again looking +inquisitively at Israel, ordered a comfortable bed to be laid in the barn, and +here Israel spent a capital night. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, next morning, he was proceeding to go with the laborers to +their work, when his employer approaching him with a benevolent air, bade him +return to his couch, and there remain till he had slept his fill, and was in a +better state to resume his labors. +</p> + +<p> +Upon coming forth again a little after noon, he found Sir John walking alone in +the grounds. Upon discovering him, Israel would have retreated, fearing that he +might intrude; but beckoning him to advance, the knight, as Israel drew nigh, +fixed on him such a penetrating glance, that our poor hero quaked to the core. +Neither was his dread of detection relieved by the knight’s now calling +in a loud voice for one from the house. Israel was just on the point of +fleeing, when overhearing the words of the master to the servant who now +appeared, all dread departed: +</p> + +<p> +“Bring hither some wine!” +</p> + +<p> +It presently came; by order of the knight the salver was set down on a green +bank near by, and the servant retired. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor fellow,” said Sir John, now pouring out a glass of wine, +and handing it to Israel, “I perceive that you are an American; and, if I +am not mistaken, you are an escaped prisoner of war. But no fear—drink +the wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Millet,” exclaimed Israel aghast, the untasted wine trembling +in his hand, “Mr. Millet, I—” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mr</i>. Millet—there it is again. Why don’t you say +<i>Sir John</i> like the rest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, sir—pardon me—but somehow, I can’t. I’ve +tried; but I can’t. You won’t betray me for that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Betray—poor fellow! Hark ye, your history is doubtless a secret +which you would not wish to divulge to a stranger; but whatever happens to you, +I pledge you my honor I will never betray you.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you for that, Mr. Millet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come; call me by my right name. I am not Mr. Millet. <i>You</i> +have said <i>Sir</i> to me; and no doubt you have a thousand times said +<i>John</i> to other people. Now can’t you couple the two? Try once. +Come. Only <i>Sir</i> and then <i>John</i>—<i>Sir +John</i>—that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“John—I can’t—Sir, sir!—your pardon. I +didn’t mean that.” +</p> + +<p> +“My good fellow,” said the knight looking sharply upon Israel, +“tell me, are all your countrymen like you? If so, it’s no use +fighting them. To that effect, I must write to his Majesty myself. Well, I +excuse you from Sir Johnning me. But tell me the truth, are you not a seafaring +man, and lately a prisoner of war?” +</p> + +<p> +Israel frankly confessed it, and told his whole story. The knight listened with +much interest; and at its conclusion, warned Israel to beware of the soldiers; +for owing to the seats of some of the royal family being in the neighborhood, +the red-coats abounded hereabout. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish unnecessarily to speak against my own countrymen,” +he added, “I but plainly speak for your good. The soldiers you meet +prowling on the roads, are not fair specimens of the army. They are a set of +mean, dastardly banditti, who, to obtain their fee, would betray their best +friends. Once more, I warn you against them. But enough; follow me now to the +house, and as you tell me you have exchanged clothes before now, you can do it +again. What say you? I will give you coat and breeches for your rags.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus generously supplied with clothes and other comforts by the good knight, +and implicitly relying upon the honor of so kind-hearted a man, Israel cheered +up, and in the course of two or three weeks had so fattened his flanks, that he +was able completely to fill Sir John’s old buckskin breeches, which at +first had hung but loosely about him. +</p> + +<p> +He was assigned to an occupation which removed him from the other workmen. The +strawberry bed was put under his sole charge. And often, of mild, sunny +afternoons, the knight, genial and gentle with dinner, would stroll bare-headed +to the pleasant strawberry bed, and have nice little confidential chats with +Israel; while Israel, charmed by the patriarchal demeanor of this true +Abrahamic gentleman, with a smile on his lip, and tears of gratitude in his +eyes, offered him, from time to time, the plumpest berries of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +When the strawberry season was over, other parts of the grounds were assigned +him. And so six months elapsed, when, at the recommendation of Sir John, Israel +procured a good berth in the garden of the Princess Amelia. +</p> + +<p> +So completely now had recent events metamorphosed him in all outward things, +that few suspected him of being any other than an Englishman. Not even the +knight’s domestics. But in the princess’s garden, being obliged to +work in company with many other laborers, the war was often a topic of +discussion among them. And “the d—d Yankee rebels” were not +seldom the object of scurrilous remark. Illy could the exile brook in silence +such insults upon the country for which he had bled, and for whose honored sake +he was that very instant a sufferer. More than once, his indignation came very +nigh getting the better of his prudence. He longed for the war to end, that he +might but speak a little bit of his mind. +</p> + +<p> +Now the superintendent of the garden was a harsh, overbearing man. The workmen +with tame servility endured his worst affronts. But Israel, bred among +mountains, found it impossible to restrain himself when made the undeserved +object of pitiless epithets. Ere two months went by, he quitted the service of +the princess, and engaged himself to a farmer in a small village not far from +Brentford. But hardly had he been here three weeks, when a rumor again got +afloat that he was a Yankee prisoner of war. Whence this report arose he could +never discover. No sooner did it reach the ears of the soldiers, than they were +on the alert. Luckily, Israel was apprised of their intentions in time. But he +was hard pushed. He was hunted after with a perseverance worthy a less ignoble +cause. He had many hairbreadth escapes. Most assuredly he would have been +captured, had it not been for the secret good offices of a few individuals, +who, perhaps, were not unfriendly to the American side of the question, though +they durst not avow it. +</p> + +<p> +Tracked one night by the soldiers to the house of one of these friends, in +whose garret he was concealed, he was obliged to force the skuttle, and running +along the roof, passed to those of adjoining houses to the number of ten or +twelve, finally succeeding in making his escape. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V.<br/> +ISRAEL IN THE LION’S DEN.</h2> + +<p> +Harassed day and night, hunted from food and sleep, driven from hole to hole +like a fox in the woods, with no chance to earn an hour’s wages, he was +at last advised by one whose sincerity he could not doubt, to apply, on the +good word of Sir John Millet, for a berth as laborer in the King’s +Gardens at Kew. There, it was said, he would be entirely safe, as no soldier +durst approach those premises to molest any soul therein employed. It struck +the poor exile as curious, that the very den of the British lion, the private +grounds of the British King, should be commended to a refugee as his securest +asylum. +</p> + +<p> +His nativity carefully concealed, and being personally introduced to the chief +gardener by one who well knew him; armed, too, with a line from Sir John, and +recommended by his introducer as uncommonly expert at horticulture; Israel was +soon installed as keeper of certain less private plants and walks of the park. +</p> + +<p> +It was here, to one of his near country retreats, that, coming from +perplexities of state—leaving far behind him the dingy old bricks of St. +James—George the Third was wont to walk up and down beneath the long +arbors formed by the interlockings of lofty trees. +</p> + +<p> +More than once, raking the gravel, Israel through intervening foliage would +catch peeps in some private but parallel walk, of that lonely figure, not more +shadowy with overhanging leaves than with the shade of royal meditations. +</p> + +<p> +Unauthorized and abhorrent thoughts will sometimes invade the best human heart. +Seeing the monarch unguarded before him; remembering that the war was imputed +more to the self-will of the King than to the willingness of parliament or the +nation; and calling to mind all his own sufferings growing out of that war, +with all the calamities of his country; dim impulses, such as those to which +the regicide Ravaillae yielded, would shoot balefully across the soul of the +exile. But thrusting Satan behind him, Israel vanquished all such temptations. +Nor did these ever more disturb him, after his one chance conversation with the +monarch. +</p> + +<p> +As he was one day gravelling a little by-walk, wrapped in thought, the King +turning a clump of bushes, suddenly brushed Israel’s person. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately Israel touched his hat—but did not remove it—bowed, and +was retiring; when something in his air arrested the King’s attention. +</p> + +<p> +“You ain’t an Englishman,—no Englishman—no, no.” +</p> + +<p> +Pale as death, Israel tried to answer something; but knowing not what to say, +stood frozen to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a Yankee—a Yankee,” said the King again in his rapid +and half-stammering way. +</p> + +<p> +Again Israel assayed to reply, but could not. What could he say? Could he lie +to a King? +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,—you are one of that stubborn race,—that very +stubborn race. What brought you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“The fate of war, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“May it please your Majesty,” said a low cringing voice, +approaching, “this man is in the walk against orders. There is some +mistake, may it please your Majesty. Quit the walk, blockhead,” he hissed +at Israel. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of the junior gardeners who thus spoke. It seems that Israel had +mistaken his directions that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Slink, you dog,” hissed the gardener again to Israel; then aloud +to the King, “A mistake of the man, I assure your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go you away—away with ye, and leave him with me,” said the +king. +</p> + +<p> +Waiting a moment, till the man was out of hearing, the king again turned upon +Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you at Bunker Hill?—that bloody Bunker Hill—eh, +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fought like a devil—like a very devil, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Helped flog—helped flog my soldiers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; but very sorry to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?—eh?—how’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I took it to be my sad duty, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much mistaken—very much mistaken, indeed. Why do ye sir +me?—eh? I’m your king—your king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Israel firmly, but with deep respect, “I have no +king.” +</p> + +<p> +The king darted his eye incensedly for a moment; but without quailing, Israel, +now that all was out, still stood with mute respect before him. The king, +turning suddenly, walked rapidly away from Israel a moment, but presently +returning with a less hasty pace, said, “You are rumored to be a +spy—a spy, or something of that sort—ain’t you? But I know +you are not—no, no. You are a runaway prisoner of war, eh? You have +sought this place to be safe from pursuit, eh? eh? Is it not so?—eh? eh? +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ye’re an honest rebel—rebel, yes, rebel. Hark ye, +hark. Say nothing of this talk to any one. And hark again. So long as you +remain here at Kew, I shall see that you are safe—safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless your Majesty!” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless your noble Majesty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come—come—come,” smiled the king in delight, “I +thought I could conquer ye—conquer ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the king, but the king’s kindness, your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Join my army—army.” +</p> + +<p> +Sadly looking down, Israel silently shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t? Well, gravel the walk then—gravel away. Very +stubborn race—very stubborn race, +indeed—very—very—very.” +</p> + +<p> +And still growling, the magnanimous lion departed. How the monarch came by his +knowledge of so humble an exile, whether through that swift insight into +individual character said to form one of the miraculous qualities transmitted +with a crown, or whether some of the rumors prevailing outside of the garden +had come to his ear, Israel could never determine. Very probably, though, the +latter was the case, inasmuch as some vague shadowy report of Israel not being +an Englishman, had, a little previous to his interview with the king, been +communicated to several of the inferior gardeners. Without any impeachment of +Israel’s fealty to his country, it must still be narrated, that from this +his familiar audience with George the Third, he went away with very favorable +views of that monarch. Israel now thought that it could not be the warm heart +of the king, but the cold heads of his lords in council, that persuaded him so +tyrannically to persecute America. Yet hitherto the precise contrary of this +had been Israel’s opinion, agreeably to the popular prejudice throughout +New England. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see what strange and powerful magic resides in a crown, and how subtly +that cheap and easy magnanimity, which in private belongs to most kings, may +operate on good-natured and unfortunate souls. Indeed, had it not been for the +peculiar disinterested fidelity of our adventurer’s patriotism, he would +have soon sported the red coat; and perhaps under the immediate patronage of +his royal friend, been advanced in time to no mean rank in the army of Britain. +Nor in that case would we have had to follow him, as at last we shall, through +long, long years of obscure and penurious wandering. +</p> + +<p> +Continuing in the service of the king’s gardeners at Kew, until a season +came when the work of the garden required a less number of laborers, Israel, +with several others, was discharged; and the day after, engaged himself for a +few months to a farmer in the neighborhood where he had been last employed. But +hardly a week had gone by, when the old story of his being a rebel, or a +runaway prisoner, or a Yankee, or a spy, began to be revived with added +malignity. Like bloodhounds, the soldiers were once more on the track. The +houses where he harbored were many times searched; but thanks to the fidelity +of a few earnest well-wishers, and to his own unsleeping vigilance and +activity, the hunted fox still continued to elude apprehension. To such +extremities of harassment, however, did this incessant pursuit subject him, +that in a fit of despair he was about to surrender himself, and submit to his +fate, when Providence seasonably interposed in his favor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI.<br/> +ISRAEL MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF CERTAIN SECRET FRIENDS OF AMERICA, ONE OF THEM +BEING THE FAMOUS AUTHOR OF THE “DIVERSIONS OF PURLEY,” THESE +DESPATCH HIM ON A SLY ERRAND ACROSS THE CHANNEL.</h2> + +<p> +At this period, though made the victims indeed of British oppression, yet the +colonies were not totally without friends in Britain. It was but natural that +when Parliament itself held patriotic and gifted men, who not only recommended +conciliatory measures, but likewise denounced the war as monstrous; it was but +natural that throughout the nation at large there should be many private +individuals cherishing similar sentiments, and some who made no scruple +clandestinely to act upon them. +</p> + +<p> +Late one night while hiding in a farmer’s granary, Israel saw a man with +a lantern approaching. He was about to flee, when the man hailed him in a +well-known voice, bidding him have no fear. It was the farmer himself. He +carried a message to Israel from a gentleman of Brentford, to the effect, that +the refugee was earnestly requested to repair on the following evening to that +gentleman’s mansion. +</p> + +<p> +At first, Israel was disposed to surmise that either the farmer was playing him +false, or else his honest credulity had been imposed upon by evil-minded +persons. At any rate, he regarded the message as a decoy, and for half an hour +refused to credit its sincerity. But at length he was induced to think a little +better of it. The gentleman giving the invitation was one Squire Woodcock, of +Brentford, whose loyalty to the king had been under suspicion; so at least the +farmer averred. This latter information was not without its effect. +</p> + +<p> +At nightfall on the following day, being disguised in strange clothes by the +farmer, Israel stole from his retreat, and after a few hours’ walk, +arrived before the ancient brick house of the Squire; who opening the door in +person, and learning who it was that stood there, at once assured Israel in the +most solemn manner, that no foul play was intended. So the wanderer suffered +himself to enter, and be conducted to a private chamber in the rear of the +mansion, where were seated two other gentlemen, attired, in the manner of that +age, in long laced coats, with small-clothes, and shoes with silver buckles. +</p> + +<p> +“I am John Woodcock,” said the host, “and these gentlemen are +Horne Tooke and James Bridges. All three of us are friends to America. We have +heard of you for some weeks past, and inferring from your conduct, that you +must be a Yankee of the true blue stamp, we have resolved to employ you in a +way which you cannot but gladly approve; for surely, though an exile, you are +still willing to serve your country; if not as a sailor or soldier, yet as a +traveller?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me how I may do it?” demanded Israel, not completely at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“At that in good time,” smiled the Squire. “The point is +now—do you repose confidence in my statements?” +</p> + +<p> +Israel glanced inquiringly upon the Squire; then upon his companions; and +meeting the expressive, enthusiastic, candid countenance of Horne +Tooke—then in the first honest ardor of his political career—turned +to the Squire, and said, “Sir, I believe what you have said. Tell me now +what I am to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there is just nothing to be done to-night,” said the Squire; +“nor for some days to come perhaps, but we wanted to have you +prepared.” +</p> + +<p> +And hereupon he hinted to his guest rather vaguely of his general intention; +and that over, begged him to entertain them with some account of his adventures +since he first took up arms for his country. To this Israel had no objections +in the world, since all men love to tell the tale of hardships endured in a +righteous cause. But ere beginning his story, the Squire refreshed him with +some cold beef, laid in a snowy napkin, and a glass of Perry, and thrice during +the narration of the adventures, pressed him with additional draughts. +</p> + +<p> +But after his second glass, Israel declined to drink more, mild as the beverage +was. For he noticed, that not only did the three gentlemen listen with the +utmost interest to his story, but likewise interrupted him with questions and +cross-questions in the most pertinacious manner. So this led him to be on his +guard, not being absolutely certain yet, as to who they might really be, or +what was their real design. But as it turned out, Squire Woodcock and his +friends only sought to satisfy themselves thoroughly, before making their final +disclosures, that the exile was one in whom implicit confidence might be +placed. +</p> + +<p> +And to this desirable conclusion they eventually came, for upon the ending of +Israel’s story, after expressing their sympathies for his hardships, and +applauding his generous patriotism in so patiently enduring adversity, as well +as singing the praises of his gallant fellow-soldiers of Bunker Hill, they +openly revealed their scheme. They wished to know whether Israel would +undertake a trip to Paris, to carry an important message—shortly to be +received for transmission through them—to Doctor Franklin, then in that +capital. +</p> + +<p> +“All your expenses shall be paid, not to speak of a compensation +besides,” said the Squire; “will you go?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must think of it,” said Israel, not yet wholly confirmed in his +mind. But once more he cast his glance on Horne Tooke, and his irresolution was +gone. +</p> + +<p> +The Squire now informed Israel that, to avoid suspicions, it would be necessary +for him to remove to another place until the hour at which he should start for +Paris. They enjoined upon him the profoundest secresy, gave him a guinea, with +a letter for a gentleman in White Waltham, a town some miles from Brentford, +which point they begged him to reach as soon as possible, there to tarry for +further instructions. +</p> + +<p> +Having informed him of thus much, Squire Woodcock asked him to hold out his +right foot. +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, would you not like to have a pair of new boots against your +return?” smiled Home Tooke. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; no objection at all,” said, Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, let the bootmaker measure you,” smiled Horne Tooke. +</p> + +<p> +“Do <i>you</i> do it, Mr. Tooke,” said the Squire; “you +measure men’s parts better than I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold out your foot, my good friend,” said Horne +Tooke—“there—now let’s measure your heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“For that, measure me round the chest,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Just the man we want,” said Mr. Bridges, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Give him another glass of wine, Squire,” said Horne Tooke. +</p> + +<p> +Exchanging the farmer’s clothes for still another disguise, Israel now +set out immediately, on foot, for his destination, having received minute +directions as to his road, and arriving in White Waltham on the following +morning was very cordially received by the gentleman to whom he carried the +letter. This person, another of the active English friends of America, +possessed a particular knowledge of late events in that land. To him Israel was +indebted for much entertaining information. After remaining some ten days at +this place, word came from Squire Woodcock, requiring Israel’s immediate +return, stating the hour at which he must arrive at the house, namely, two +o’clock on the following morning. So, after another night’s +solitary trudge across the country, the wanderer was welcomed by the same three +gentlemen as before, seated in the same room. +</p> + +<p> +“The time has now come,” said Squire Woodcock. “You must +start this morning for Paris. Take off your shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to steal from here to Paris on my stocking-feet?” said +Israel, whose late easy good living at White Waltham had not failed to bring +out the good-natured and mirthful part of him, even as his prior experiences +had produced, for the most part, something like a contrary result. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” smiled Horne Tooke, who always lived well, “we have +seven-league-boots for you. Don’t you remember my measuring you?” +</p> + +<p> +Hereupon going to the closet, the Squire brought out a pair of new boots. They +were fitted with false heels. Unscrewing these, the Squire showed Israel the +papers concealed beneath. They were of a fine tissuey fibre, and contained much +writing in a very small compass. The boots, it need hardly be said, had been +particularly made for the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“Walk across the room with them,” said the Squire, when Israel had +pulled them on. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll surely be discovered,” smiled Horne Tooke. “Hark +how he creaks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, it’s too serious a matter for joking,” said the +Squire. “Now, my fine fellow, be cautious, be sober, be vigilant, and +above all things be speedy.” +</p> + +<p> +Being furnished now with all requisite directions, and a supply of money, +Israel, taking leave of Mr. Tooke and Mr. Bridges, was secretly conducted down +stairs by the Squire, and in five minutes’ time was on his way to Charing +Cross in London, where taking the post-coach for Dover, he thence went in a +packet to Calais, and in fifteen minutes after landing, was being wheeled over +French soil towards Paris. He arrived there in safety, and freely declaring +himself an American, the peculiarly friendly relations of the two nations at +that period, procured him kindly attentions even from strangers. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII.<br/> +AFTER A CURIOUS ADVENTURE UPON THE PONT NEUF, ISRAEL ENTERS THE PRESENCE OF THE +RENOWNED SAGE, DR. FRANKLIN, WHOM HE FINDS RIGHT LEARNEDLY AND MULTIFARIOUSLY +EMPLOYED.</h2> + +<p> +Following the directions given him at the place where the diligence stopped, +Israel was crossing the Pont Neuf, to find Doctor Franklin, when he was +suddenly called to by a man standing on one side of the bridge, just under the +equestrian statue of Henry IV.—The man had a small, shabby-looking box +before him on the ground, with a box of blacking on one side of it, and several +shoe-brushes upon the other. Holding another brush in his hand, he politely +seconded his verbal invitation by gracefully flourishing the brush in the air. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want of me, neighbor?” said Israel, pausing in +somewhat uneasy astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Monsieur,” exclaimed the man, and with voluble politeness he +ran on with a long string of French, which of course was all Greek to poor +Israel. But what his language failed to convey, his gestures now made very +plain. Pointing to the wet muddy state of the bridge, splashed by a recent +rain, and then to the feet of the wayfarer, and lastly to the brush in his +hand, he appeared to be deeply regretting that a gentleman of Israel’s +otherwise imposing appearance should be seen abroad with unpolished boots, +offering at the same time to remove their blemishes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Monsieur, Monsieur,” cried the man, at last running up to +Israel. And with tender violence he forced him towards the box, and lifting +this unwilling customer’s right foot thereon, was proceeding vigorously +to work, when suddenly illuminated by a dreadful suspicion, Israel, fetching +the box a terrible kick, took to his false heels and ran like mad over the +bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Incensed that his politeness should receive such an ungracious return, the man +pursued, which but confirming Israel in his suspicions he ran all the faster, +and thanks to his fleetness, soon succeeded in escaping his pursuer. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at last at the street and the house to which he had been directed, in +reply to his summons, the gate very strangely of itself swung open, and much +astonished at this unlooked-for sort of enchantment, Israel entered a wide +vaulted passage leading to an open court within. While he was wondering that no +soul appeared, suddenly he was hailed from a dark little window, where sat an +old man cobbling shoes, while an old woman standing by his side was thrusting +her head into the passage, intently eyeing the stranger. They proved to be the +porter and portress, the latter of whom, upon hearing his summons, had +invisibly thrust open the gate to Israel, by means of a spring communicating +with the little apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Upon hearing the name of Doctor Franklin mentioned, the old woman, all +alacrity, hurried out of her den, and with much courtesy showed Israel across +the court, up three flights of stairs to a door in the rear of the spacious +building. There she left him while Israel knocked. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said a voice. +</p> + +<p> +And immediately Israel stood in the presence of the venerable Doctor Franklin. +</p> + +<p> +Wrapped in a rich dressing-gown, a fanciful present from an admiring Marchesa, +curiously embroidered with algebraic figures like a conjuror’s robe, and +with a skull-cap of black satin on his hive of a head, the man of gravity was +seated at a huge claw-footed old table, round as the zodiac. It was covered +with printer papers, files of documents, rolls of manuscript, stray bits of +strange models in wood and metal, odd-looking pamphlets in various languages, +and all sorts of books, including many presentation-copies, embracing history, +mechanics, diplomacy, agriculture, political economy, metaphysics, meteorology, +and geometry. The walls had a necromantic look, hung round with barometers of +different kinds, drawings of surprising inventions, wide maps of far countries +in the New World, containing vast empty spaces in the middle, with the word +DESERT diffusely printed there, so as to span five-and-twenty degrees of +longitude with only two syllables,—which printed word, however, bore a +vigorous pen-mark, in the Doctor’s hand, drawn straight through it, as if +in summary repeal of it; crowded topographical and trigonometrical charts of +various parts of Europe; with geometrical diagrams, and endless other +surprising hangings and upholstery of science. +</p> + +<p> +The chamber itself bore evident marks of antiquity. One part of the +rough-finished wall was sadly cracked, and covered with dust, looked dim and +dark. But the aged inmate, though wrinkled as well, looked neat and hale. Both +wall and sage were compounded of like materials,—lime and dust; both, +too, were old; but while the rude earth of the wall had no painted lustre to +shed off all fadings and tarnish, and still keep fresh without, though with +long eld its core decayed: the living lime and dust of the sage was frescoed +with defensive bloom of his soul. +</p> + +<p> +The weather was warm; like some old West India hogshead on the wharf, the whole +chamber buzzed with flies. But the sapient inmate sat still and cool in the +midst. Absorbed in some other world of his occupations and thoughts, these +insects, like daily cark and care, did not seem one whit to annoy him. It was a +goodly sight to see this serene, cool and ripe old philosopher, who by sharp +inquisition of man in the street, and then long meditating upon him, surrounded +by all those queer old implements, charts and books, had grown at last so +wondrous wise. There he sat, quite motionless among those restless flies; and, +with a sound like the low noon murmur of foliage in the woods, turning over the +leaves of some ancient and tattered folio, with a binding dark and shaggy as +the bark of any old oak. It seemed as if supernatural lore must needs pertain +to this gravely, ruddy personage; at least far foresight, pleasant wit, and +working wisdom. Old age seemed in no wise to have dulled him, but to have +sharpened; just as old dinner-knives—so they be of good steel—wax +keen, spear-pointed, and elastic as whale-bone with long usage. Yet though he +was thus lively and vigorous to behold, spite of his seventy-two years (his +exact date at that time) somehow, the incredible seniority of an antediluvian +seemed his. Not the years of the calendar wholly, but also the years of +sapience. His white hairs and mild brow, spoke of the future as well as the +past. He seemed to be seven score years old; that is, three score and ten of +prescience added to three score and ten of remembrance, makes just seven score +years in all. +</p> + +<p> +But when Israel stepped within the chamber, he lost the complete effect of all +this; for the sage’s back, not his face, was turned to him. +</p> + +<p> +So, intent on his errand, hurried and heated with his recent run, our courier +entered the room, inadequately impressed, for the time, by either it or its +occupant. +</p> + +<p> +“Bon jour, bon jour, monsieur,” said the man of wisdom, in a +cheerful voice, but too busy to turn round just then. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Doctor Franklin?” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I smell Indian corn,” said the Doctor, turning round quickly +on his chair. “A countryman; sit down, my good sir. Well, what news? +Special?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, sir,” said Israel, stepping across the room towards +a chair. +</p> + +<p> +Now there was no carpet on the floor, which was of dark-colored wood, set in +lozenges, and slippery with wax, after the usual French style. As Israel walked +this slippery floor, his unaccustomed feet slid about very strangely as if +walking on ice, so that he came very near falling. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pears to me you have rather high heels to your boots,” said +the grave man of utility, looking sharply down through his spectacles; +“don’t you know that it’s both wasting leather and +endangering your limbs, to wear such high heels? I have thought, at my first +leisure, to write a little pamphlet against that very abuse. But pray, what are +you doing now? Do your boots pinch you, my friend, that you lift one foot from +the floor that way?” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, Israel having seated himself, was just putting his right foot +across his left knee. +</p> + +<p> +“How foolish,” continued the wise man, “for a rational +creature to wear tight boots. Had nature intended rational creatures should do +so, she would have made the foot of solid bone, or perhaps of solid iron, +instead of bone, muscle, and flesh,—But,—I see. Hold!” +</p> + +<p> +And springing to his own slippered feet, the venerable sage hurried to the door +and shot-to the bolt. Then drawing the curtain carefully across the window +looking out across the court to various windows on the opposite side, bade +Israel proceed with his operations. +</p> + +<p> +“I was mistaken this time,” added the Doctor, smiling, as Israel +produced his documents from their curious recesses—“your high +heels, instead of being idle vanities, seem to be full of meaning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty full, Doctor,” said Israel, now handing over the papers. +“I had a narrow escape with them just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“How? How’s that?” said the sage, fumbling the papers +eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, crossing the stone bridge there over the <i>Seen</i>”— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Seine</i>”—interrupted the Doctor, giving the French +pronunciation.—“Always get a new word right in the first place, my +friend, and you will never get it wrong afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I was crossing the bridge there, and who should hail me, but a +suspicious-looking man, who, under pretence of seeking to polish my boots, +wanted slyly to unscrew their heels, and so steal all these precious papers +I’ve brought you.” +</p> + +<p> +“My good friend,” said the man of gravity, glancing scrutinizingly +upon his guest, “have you not in your time, undergone what they call hard +times? Been set upon, and persecuted, and very illy entreated by some of your +fellow-creatures?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I have, Doctor; yes, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so. Sad usage has made you sadly suspicious, my honest friend. +An indiscriminate distrust of human nature is the worst consequence of a +miserable condition, whether brought about by innocence or guilt. And though +want of suspicion more than want of sense, sometimes leads a man into harm, yet +too much suspicion is as bad as too little sense. The man you met, my friend, +most probably had no artful intention; he knew just nothing about you or your +heels; he simply wanted to earn two sous by brushing your boots. Those +blacking-men regularly station themselves on the bridge.” +</p> + +<p> +“How sorry I am then that I knocked over his box, and then ran away. But +he didn’t catch me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How? surely, my honest friend, you—appointed to the conveyance of +important secret dispatches—did not act so imprudently as to kick over an +innocent man’s box in the public streets of the capital, to which you had +been especially sent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never act so unwisely again. If the police had got hold of you, think of +what might have ensued.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it was not very wise of me, that’s a fact, Doctor. But, you +see, I thought he meant mischief.” +</p> + +<p> +“And because you only thought he <i>meant</i> mischief, <i>you</i> must +straightway proceed to <i>do</i> mischief. That’s poor logic. But think +over what I have told you now, while I look over these papers.” +</p> + +<p> +In half an hour’s time, the Doctor, laying down the documents, again +turned towards Israel, and removing his spectacles very placidly, proceeded in +the kindest and most familiar manner to read him a paternal detailed lesson +upon the ill-advised act he had been guilty of, upon the Pont Neuf; concluding +by taking out his purse, and putting three small silver coins into +Israel’s hands, charging him to seek out the man that very day, and make +both apology and restitution for his unlucky mistake. +</p> + +<p> +“All of us, my honest friend,” continued the Doctor, “are +subject to making mistakes; so that the chief art of life, is to learn how best +to remedy mistakes. Now one remedy for mistakes is honesty. So pay the man for +the damage done to his box. And now, who are you, my friend? My correspondents +here mention your name—Israel Potter—and say you are an American, +an escaped prisoner of war, but nothing further. I want to hear your story from +your own lips.” +</p> + +<p> +Israel immediately began, and related to the Doctor all his adventures up to +the present time. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said the Doctor, upon Israel’s concluding, +“that you desire to return to your friends across the sea?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I do, Doctor,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think I shall be able to procure you a passage.” +</p> + +<p> +Israel’s eyes sparkled with delight. The mild sage noticed it, and added: +“But events in these times are uncertain. At the prospect of pleasure +never be elated; but, without depression, respect the omens of ill. So much my +life has taught me, my honest friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Israel felt as though a plum-pudding had been thrust under his nostrils, and +then as rapidly withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it is probable that in two or three days I shall want you to +return with some papers to the persons who sent you to me. In that case you +will have to come here once more, and then, my good friend, we will see what +can be done towards getting you safely home again.” +</p> + +<p> +Israel was pouring out torrents of thanks when the Doctor interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Gratitude, my friend, cannot be too much towards God, but towards man, +it should be limited. No man can possibly so serve his fellow, as to merit +unbounded gratitude. Over gratitude in the helped person, is apt to breed +vanity or arrogance in the helping one. Now in assisting you to get +home—if indeed I shall prove able to do so—I shall be simply doing +part of my official duty as agent of our common country. So you owe me just +nothing at all, but the sum of these coins I put in your hand just now. But +that, instead of repaying to me hereafter, you can, when you get home, give to +the first soldier’s widow you meet. Don’t forget it, for it is a +debt, a pecuniary liability, owing to me. It will be about a quarter of a +dollar, in the Yankee currency. A quarter of a dollar, mind. My honest friend, +in pecuniary matters always be exact as a second-hand; never mind with whom it +is, father or stranger, peasant or king, be exact to a tick of your +honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Doctor,” said Israel, “since exactness in these +matters is so necessary, let me pay back my debt in the very coins in which it +was loaned. There will be no chance of mistake then. Thanks to my Brentford +friends, I have enough to spare of my own, to settle damages with the +boot-black of the bridge. I only took the money from you, because I thought it +would not look well to push it back after being so kindly offered.” +</p> + +<p> +“My honest friend,” said the Doctor, “I like your +straightforward dealing. I will receive back the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“No interest, Doctor, I hope,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +The sage looked mildly over his spectacles upon Israel and replied: “My +good friend, never permit yourself to be jocose upon pecuniary matters. Never +joke at funerals, or during business transactions. The affair between us two, +you perhaps deem very trivial, but trifles may involve momentous principles. +But no more at present. You had better go immediately and find the boot-black. +Having settled with him, return hither, and you will find a room ready for you +near this, where you will stay during your sojourn in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I thought I would like to have a little look round the town, before +I go back to England,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Business before pleasure, my friend. You must absolutely remain in your +room, just as if you were my prisoner, until you quit Paris for Calais. Not +knowing now at what instant I shall want you to start, your keeping to your +room is indispensable. But when you come back from Brentford again, then, if +nothing happens, you will have a chance to survey this celebrated capital ere +taking ship for America. Now go directly, and pay the boot-black. Stop, have +you the exact change ready? Don’t be taking out all your money in the +open street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor,” said Israel, “I am not so simple.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you knocked over the box.” +</p> + +<p> +“That, Doctor, was bravery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravery in a poor cause, is the height of simplicity, my +friend.—Count out your change. It must be French coin, not English, that +you are to pay the man with.—Ah, that will do—those three coins +will be enough. Put them in a pocket separate from your other cash. Now go, and +hasten to the bridge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I stop to take a meal anywhere, Doctor, as I return? I saw several +cookshops as I came hither.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cafes and restaurants, they are called here, my honest friend. Tell me, +are you the possessor of a liberal fortune?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very liberal,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought as much. Where little wine is drunk, it is good to dine out +occasionally at a friend’s; but where a poor man dines out at his own +charge, it is bad policy. Never dine out that way, when you can dine in. Do not +stop on the way at all, my honest friend, but come directly back hither, and +you shall dine at home, free of cost, with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you very kindly, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +And Israel departed for the Pont Neuf. Succeeding in his errand thither, he +returned to Dr. Franklin, and found that worthy envoy waiting his attendance at +a meal, which, according to the Doctor’s custom, had been sent from a +neighboring restaurant. There were two covers; and without attendance the host +and guest sat down. There was only one principal dish, lamb boiled with green +peas. Bread and potatoes made up the rest. A decanter-like bottle of uncolored +glass, filled with some uncolored beverage, stood at the venerable +envoy’s elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me fill your glass,” said the sage. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s white wine, ain’t it?” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“White wine of the very oldest brand; I drink your health in it, my +honest friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s plain water,” said Israel, now tasting it. +</p> + +<p> +“Plain water is a very good drink for plain men,” replied the wise +man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Israel, “but Squire Woodcock gave me perry, and +the other gentleman at White Waltham gave me port, and some other friends have +given me brandy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, my honest friend; if you like perry and port and brandy, wait +till you get back to Squire Woodcock, and the gentleman at White Waltham, and +the other friends, and you shall drink perry and port and brandy. But while you +are with me, you will drink plain water.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it seems, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you suppose a glass of port costs?” +</p> + +<p> +“About three pence English, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“That must be poor port. But how much good bread will three pence English +purchase?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three penny rolls, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many glasses of port do you suppose a man may drink at a +meal?” +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman at White Waltham drank a bottle at a dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“A bottle contains just thirteen glasses—that’s thirty-nine +pence, supposing it poor wine. If something of the best, which is the only sort +any sane man should drink, as being the least poisonous, it would be quadruple +that sum, which is one hundred and fifty-six pence, which is seventy-eight +two-penny loaves. Now, do you not think that for one man to swallow down +seventy-two two-penny rolls at one meal is rather extravagant business?” +</p> + +<p> +“But he drank a bottle of wine; he did not eat seventy-two two-penny +rolls, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“He drank the money worth of seventy-two loaves, which is drinking the +loaves themselves; for money is bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he has plenty of money to spare, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“To have to spare, is to have to give away. Does the gentleman give much +away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not that I know of, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he thinks he has nothing to spare; and thinking he has nothing to +spare, and yet prodigally drinking down his money as he does every day, it +seems to me that that gentleman stands self- contradicted, and therefore is no +good example for plain sensible folks like you and me to follow. My honest +friend, if you are poor, avoid wine as a costly luxury; if you are rich, shun +it as a fatal indulgence. Stick to plain water. And now, my good friend, if you +are through with your meal, we will rise. There is no pastry coming. Pastry is +poisoned bread. Never eat pastry. Be a plain man, and stick to plain things. +Now, my friend, I shall have to be private until nine o’clock in the +evening, when I shall be again at your service. Meantime you may go to your +room. I have ordered the one next to this to be prepared for you. But you must +not be idle. Here is Poor Richard’s Almanac, which, in view of our late +conversation, I commend to your earnest perusal. And here, too, is a Guide to +Paris, an English one, which you can read. Study it well, so that when you come +back from England, if you should then have an opportunity to travel about +Paris, to see its wonders, you will have all the chief places made historically +familiar to you. In this world, men must provide knowledge before it is wanted, +just as our countrymen in New England get in their winter’s fuel one +season, to serve them the next.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, this homely sage, and household Plato, showed his humble guest to +the door, and standing in the hall, pointed out to him the one which opened +into his allotted apartment. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +WHICH HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT DR. FRANKLIN AND THE LATIN QUARTER.</h2> + +<p> +The first, both in point of time and merit, of American envoys was famous not +less for the pastoral simplicity of his manners than for the politic grace of +his mind. Viewed from a certain point, there was a touch of primeval +orientalness in Benjamin Franklin. Neither is there wanting something like his +Scriptural parallel. The history of the patriarch Jacob is interesting not less +from the unselfish devotion which we are bound to ascribe to him, than from the +deep worldly wisdom and polished Italian tact, gleaming under an air of +Arcadian unaffectedness. The diplomatist and the shepherd are blended; a union +not without warrant; the apostolic serpent and dove. A tanned Machiavelli in +tents. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless, too, notwithstanding his eminence as lord of the moving manor, +Jacob’s raiment was of homespun; the economic envoy’s plain coat +and hose, who has not heard of? +</p> + +<p> +Franklin all over is of a piece. He dressed his person as his periods; neat, +trim, nothing superfluous, nothing deficient. In some of his works his style is +only surpassed by the unimprovable sentences of Hobbes of Malmsbury, the +paragon of perspicuity. The mental habits of Hobbes and Franklin in several +points, especially in one of some moment, assimilated. Indeed, making due +allowance for soil and era, history presents few trios more akin, upon the +whole, than Jacob, Hobbes, and Franklin; three labyrinth-minded, but +plain-spoken Broadbrims, at once politicians and philosophers; keen observers +of the main chance; prudent courtiers; practical magians in linsey-woolsey. +</p> + +<p> +In keeping with his general habitudes, Doctor Franklin while at the French +Court did not reside in the aristocratical faubourgs. He deemed his worsted +hose and scientific tastes more adapted in a domestic way to the other side of +the Seine, where the Latin Quarter, at once the haunt of erudition and economy, +seemed peculiarly to invite the philosophical Poor Richard to its venerable +retreats. Here, of gray, chilly, drizzly November mornings, in the dark-stoned +quadrangle of the time-honored Sorbonne, walked the lean and slippered +metaphysician,—oblivious for the moment that his sublime thoughts and +tattered wardrobe were famous throughout Europe,—meditating on the theme +of his next lecture; at the same time, in the well-worn chambers overhead, some +clayey-visaged chemist in ragged robe-de-chambre, and with a soiled green flap +over his left eye, was hard at work stooping over retorts and crucibles, +discovering new antipathies in acids, again risking strange explosions similar +to that whereby he had already lost the use of one optic; while in the lofty +lodging-houses of the neighboring streets, indigent young students from all +parts of France, were ironing their shabby cocked hats, or inking the whity +seams of their small-clothes, prior to a promenade with their pink-ribboned +little grisettes in the Garden of the Luxembourg. +</p> + +<p> +Long ago the haunt of rank, the Latin Quarter still retains many old buildings +whose imposing architecture singularly contrasts with the unassuming habits of +their present occupants. In some parts its general air is dreary and dim; +monastic and theurgic. In those lonely narrow ways—long-drawn +prospectives of desertion—lined with huge piles of silent, vaulted, old +iron-grated buildings of dark gray stone, one almost expects to encounter +Paracelsus or Friar Bacon turning the next corner, with some awful vial of +Black-Art elixir in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +But all the lodging-houses are not so grim. Not to speak of many of +comparatively modern erection, the others of the better class, however stern in +exterior, evince a feminine gayety of taste, more or less, in their furnishings +within. The embellishing, or softening, or screening hand of woman is to be +seen all over the interiors of this metropolis.. Like Augustus Caesar with +respect to Rome, the Frenchwoman leaves her obvious mark on Paris. Like the +hand in nature, you know it can be none else but hers. Yet sometimes she +overdoes it, as nature in the peony; or underdoes it, as nature in the bramble; +or—what is still more frequent—is a little slatternly about it, as +nature in the pig-weed. +</p> + +<p> +In this congenial vicinity of the Latin Quarter, and in an ancient building +something like those alluded to, at a point midway between the Palais des Beaux +Arts and the College of the Sorbonne, the venerable American Envoy pitched his +tent when not passing his time at his country retreat at Passy. The frugality +of his manner of life did not lose him the good opinion even of the +voluptuaries of the showiest of capitals, whose very iron railings are not free +from gilt. Franklin was not less a lady’s man, than a man’s man, a +wise man, and an old man. Not only did he enjoy the homage of the choicest +Parisian literati, but at the age of seventy-two he was the caressed favorite +of the highest born beauties of the Court; who through blind fashion having +been originally attracted to him as a famous <i>savan</i>, were permanently +retained as his admirers by his Plato-like graciousness of good humor. Having +carefully weighed the world, Franklin could act any part in it. By nature +turned to knowledge, his mind was often grave, but never serious. At times he +had seriousness—extreme seriousness—for others, but never for +himself. Tranquillity was to him instead of it. This philosophical levity of +tranquillity, so to speak, is shown in his easy variety of pursuits. Printer, +postmaster, almanac maker, essayist, chemist, orator, tinker, statesman, +humorist, philosopher, parlor man, political economist, professor of +housewifery, ambassador, projector, maxim-monger, herb-doctor, wit:—Jack +of all trades, master of each and mastered by none—the type and genius of +his land. Franklin was everything but a poet. But since a soul with many +qualities, forming of itself a sort of handy index and pocket congress of all +humanity, needs the contact of just as many different men, or subjects, in +order to the exhibition of its totality; hence very little indeed of the +sage’s multifariousness will be portrayed in a simple narrative like the +present. This casual private intercourse with Israel, but served to manifest +him in his far lesser lights; thrifty, domestic, dietarian, and, it may be, +didactically waggish. There was much benevolent irony, innocent +mischievousness, in the wise man. Seeking here to depict him in his less +exalted habitudes, the narrator feels more as if he were playing with one of +the sage’s worsted hose, than reverentially handling the honored hat +which once oracularly sat upon his brow. +</p> + +<p> +So, then, in the Latin Quarter lived Doctor Franklin. And accordingly in the +Latin Quarter tarried Israel for the time. And it was into a room of a house in +this same Latin Quarter that Israel had been directed when the sage had +requested privacy for a while. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX.<br/> +ISRAEL IS INITIATED INTO THE MYSTERIES OF LODGING-HOUSES IN THE LATIN QUARTER.</h2> + +<p> +Closing the door upon himself, Israel advanced to the middle of the chamber, +and looked curiously round him. +</p> + +<p> +A dark tessellated floor, but without a rug; two mahogany chairs, with +embroidered seats, rather the worse for wear; one mahogany bed, with a gay but +tarnished counterpane; a marble wash-stand, cracked, with a china vessel of +water, minus the handle. The apartment was very large; this part of the house, +which was a very extensive one, embracing the four sides of a quadrangle, +having, in a former age, been the hotel of a nobleman. The magnitude of the +chamber made its stinted furniture look meagre enough. +</p> + +<p> +But in Israel’s eyes, the marble mantel (a comparatively recent addition) +and its appurtenances, not only redeemed the rest, but looked quite magnificent +and hospitable in the extreme. Because, in the first place, the mantel was +graced with an enormous old-fashioned square mirror, of heavy plate glass, set +fast, like a tablet, into the wall. And in this mirror was genially reflected +the following delicate articles:—first, two boquets of flowers inserted +in pretty vases of porcelain; second, one cake of white soap; third, one cake +of rose-colored soap (both cakes very fragrant); fourth, one wax candle; fifth, +one china tinder-box; sixth, one bottle of Eau de Cologne; seventh, one paper +of loaf sugar, nicely broken into sugar-bowl size; eighth, one silver teaspoon; +ninth, one glass tumbler; tenth, one glass decanter of cool pure water; +eleventh, one sealed bottle containing a richly hued liquid, and marked +“Otard.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder now what O-t-a-r-d is?” soliloquised Israel, slowly +spelling the word. “I have a good mind to step in and ask Dr. Franklin. +He knows everything. Let me smell it. No, it’s sealed; smell is locked +in. Those are pretty flowers. Let’s smell them: no smell again. Ah, I +see—sort of flowers in women’s bonnets—sort of calico +flowers. Beautiful soap. This smells anyhow—regular soap-roses—a +white rose and a red one. That long-necked bottle there looks like a crane. I +wonder what’s in that? Hallo! E-a-u—d-e—C-o-l-o-g-n-e. I +wonder if Dr. Franklin understands that? It looks like his white wine. This is +nice sugar. Let’s taste. Yes, this is very nice sugar, sweet +as—yes, it’s sweet as sugar; better than maple sugar, such as they +make at home. But I’m crunching it too loud, the Doctor will hear me. But +here’s a teaspoon. What’s this for? There’s no tea, nor +tea-cup; but here’s a tumbler, and here’s drinking water. Let me +see. Seems to me, putting this and that and the other thing together, +it’s a sort of alphabet that spells something. Spoon, tumbler, water, +sugar,—brandy—that’s it. O-t-a-r-d is brandy. Who put these +things here? What does it all mean? Don’t put sugar here for show, +don’t put a spoon here for ornament, nor a jug of water. There is only +one meaning to it, and that is a very polite invitation from some invisible +person to help myself, if I like, to a glass of brandy and sugar, and if I +don’t like, let it alone. That’s my reading. I have a good mind to +ask Doctor Franklin about it, though, for there’s just a chance I may be +mistaken, and these things here be some other person’s private property, +not at all meant for me to help myself from. Cologne, what’s +that—never mind. Soap: soap’s to wash with. I want to use soap, +anyway. Let me see—no, there’s no soap on the wash-stand. I see, +soap is not given gratis here in Paris, to boarders. But if you want it, take +it from the marble, and it will be charged in the bill. If you don’t want +it let it alone, and no charge. Well, that’s fair, anyway. But then to a +man who could not afford to use soap, such beautiful cakes as these lying +before his eyes all the time, would be a strong temptation. And now that I +think of it, the O-t-a-r-d looks rather tempting too. But if I don’t like +it now, I can let it alone. I’ve a good mind to try it. But it’s +sealed. I wonder now if I am right in my understanding of this alphabet? Who +knows? I’ll venture one little sip, anyhow. Come, cork. Hark!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a rapid knock at the door. +</p> + +<p> +Clapping down the bottle, Israel said, “Come in.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the man of wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +“My honest friend,” said the Doctor, stepping with venerable +briskness into the room, “I was so busy during your visit to the Pont +Neuf, that I did not have time to see that your room was all right. I merely +gave the order, and heard that it had been fulfilled. But it just occurred to +me, that as the landladies of Paris have some curious customs which might +puzzle an entire stranger, my presence here for a moment might explain any +little obscurity. Yes, it is as I thought,” glancing towards the mantel. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Doctor, that reminds me; what is O-t-a-r-d, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“Otard is poison.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shocking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I think I had best remove it from the room forthwith,” +replied the sage, in a business-like manner putting the bottle under his arm; +“I hope you never use Cologne, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What—what is that, Doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. You never heard of the senseless luxury—a wise ignorance. +You smelt flowers upon your mountains. You won’t want this, +either;” and the Cologne bottle was put under the other arm. +“Candle—you’ll want that. Soap—you want soap. Use the +white cake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that cheaper, Doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but just as good as the other. You don’t ever munch sugar, do +you? It’s bad for the teeth. I’ll take the sugar.” So the +paper of sugar was likewise dropped into one of the capacious coat pockets. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you better take the whole furniture, Doctor Franklin. Here, +I’ll help you drag out the bedstead.” “My honest +friend,” said the wise man, pausing solemnly, with the two bottles, like +swimmer’s bladders, under his arm-pits; “my honest friend, the +bedstead you will want; what I propose to remove you will not want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I was only joking, Doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew that. It’s a bad habit, except at the proper time, and with +the proper person. The things left on the mantel were there placed by the +landlady to be used if wanted; if not, to be left untouched. To-morrow morning, +upon the chambermaid’s coming in to make your bed, all such articles as +remained obviously untouched would have been removed, the rest would have been +charged in the bill, whether you used them up completely or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as I thought. Then why not let the bottles stay, Doctor, and save +yourself all this trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! why indeed. My honest friend, are you not my guest? It were +unhandsome in me to permit a third person superfluously to entertain you under +what, for the time being, is my own roof.” +</p> + +<p> +These words came from the wise man in the most graciously bland and flowing +tones. As he ended, he made a sort of conciliatory half bow towards Israel. +</p> + +<p> +Charmed with his condescending affability, Israel, without another word, +suffered him to march from the room, bottles and all. Not till the first +impression of the venerable envoy’s suavity had left him, did Israel +begin to surmise the mild superiority of successful strategy which lurked +beneath this highly ingratiating air. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” pondered Israel, sitting gloomily before the rifled mantel, +with the empty tumbler and teaspoon in his hand, “it’s sad business +to have a Doctor Franklin lodging in the next room. I wonder if he sees to all +the boarders this way. How the O-t-a-r-d merchants must hate him, and the +pastry-cooks too. I wish I had a good pie to pass the time. I wonder if they +ever make pumpkin pies in Paris? So I’ve got to stay in this room all the +time. Somehow I’m bound to be a prisoner, one way or another. Never mind, +I’m an ambassador; that’s satisfaction. Hark! The Doctor +again.—Come in.” +</p> + +<p> +No venerable doctor, but in tripped a young French lass, bloom on her cheek, +pink ribbons in her cap, liveliness in all her air, grace in the very tips of +her elbows. The most bewitching little chambermaid in Paris. All art, but the +picture of artlessness. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur! pardon!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I pardon ye freely,” said Israel. “Come to call on the +Ambassador?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, is de—de—” but, breaking down at the very +threshold in her English, she poured out a long ribbon of sparkling French, the +purpose of which was to convey a profusion of fine compliments to the stranger, +with many tender inquiries as to whether he was comfortably roomed, and whether +there might not be something, however trifling, wanting to his complete +accommodation. But Israel understood nothing, at the time, but the exceeding +grace, and trim, bewitching figure of the girl. +</p> + +<p> +She stood eyeing him for a few moments more, with a look of pretty theatrical +despair, and, after vaguely lingering a while, with another shower of +incomprehensible compliments and apologies, tripped like a fairy from the +chamber. Directly she was gone Israel pondered upon a singular glance of the +girl. It seemed to him that he had, by his reception, in some way, +unaccountably disappointed his beautiful visitor. It struck him very strangely +that she had entered all sweetness and friendliness, but had retired as if +slighted, with a sort of disdainful and sarcastic levity, all the more stinging +from its apparent politeness. +</p> + +<p> +Not long had she disappeared, when a noise in the passage apprised him that, in +her hurried retreat, the girl must have stumbled against something. The next +moment he heard a chair scraping in the adjacent apartment, and there was +another knock at the door. +</p> + +<p> +It was the man of wisdom this time. +</p> + +<p> +“My honest friend, did you not have a visitor, just now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Doctor, a very pretty girl called upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I just stopped in to tell you of another strange custom of Paris. +That girl is the chambermaid, but she does not confine herself altogether to +one vocation. You must beware of the chambermaids of Paris, my honest friend. +Shall I tell the girl, from you, that, unwilling to give her the fatigue of +going up and down so many flights of stairs, you will for the future waive her +visits of ceremony?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Doctor Franklin, she is a very sweet little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it, my honest friend; the sweeter the more dangerous. Arsenic is +sweeter than sugar. I know you are a very sensible young man, not to be taken +in by an artful Ammonite, and so I think I had better convey your message to +the girl forthwith.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the sage withdrew, leaving Israel once more gloomily seated before +the rifled mantel, whose mirror was not again to reflect the form of the +charming chambermaid. +</p> + +<p> +“Every time he comes in he robs me,” soliloquised Israel, +dolefully; “with an air all the time, too, as if he were making me +presents. If he thinks me such a very sensible young man, why not let me take +care of myself?” +</p> + +<p> +It was growing dusk, and Israel, lighting the wax candle, proceeded to read in +his Guide-book. +</p> + +<p> +“This is poor sight-seeing,” muttered he at last, “sitting +here all by myself, with no company but an empty tumbler, reading about the +fine things in Paris, and I myself a prisoner in Paris. I wish something +extraordinary would turn up now; for instance, a man come in and give me ten +thousand pounds. But here’s ‘Poor Richard;’ I am a poor +fellow myself; so let’s see what comfort he has for a comrade.” +</p> + +<p> +Opening the little pamphlet, at random, Israel’s eyes fell on the +following passages: he read them aloud— +</p> + +<p> +“‘<i>So what signifies waiting and hoping for better times? We may +make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. Industry need not wish, and he +that lives upon hope will die fasting, as Poor Richard says. There are no +gains, without pains. Then help hands, for I have no lands, as Poor Richard +says.</i>’ Oh, confound all this wisdom! It’s a sort of insulting +to talk wisdom to a man like me. It’s wisdom that’s cheap, and +it’s fortune that’s dear. That ain’t in Poor Richard; but it +ought to be,” concluded Israel, suddenly slamming down the pamphlet. +</p> + +<p> +He walked across the room, looked at the artificial flowers, and the +rose-colored soap, and again went to the table and took up the two books. +</p> + +<p> +“So here is the ‘Way to Wealth,’ and here is the ‘Guide +to Paris.’ Wonder now whether Paris lies on the Way to Wealth? if so, I +am on the road. More likely though, it’s a parting-of-the-ways. I +shouldn’t be surprised if the Doctor meant something sly by putting these +two books in my hand. Somehow, the old gentleman has an amazing sly +look—a sort of wild slyness—about him, seems to me. His wisdom +seems a sort of sly, too. But all in honor, though. I rather think he’s +one of those old gentlemen who say a vast deal of sense, but hint a world more. +Depend upon it, he’s sly, sly, sly. Ah, what’s this Poor Richard +says: ‘God helps them that help themselves:’ Let’s consider +that. Poor Richard ain’t a Dunker, that’s certain, though he has +lived in Pennsylvania. ‘God helps them that help themselves.’ +I’ll just mark that saw, and leave the pamphlet open to refer to it +again—Ah!” +</p> + +<p> +At this point, the Doctor knocked, summoning Israel to his own apartment. Here, +after a cup of weak tea, and a little toast, the two had a long, familiar talk +together; during which, Israel was delighted with the unpretending +talkativeness, serene insight, and benign amiability of the sage. But, for all +this, he could hardly forgive him for the Cologne and Otard depredations. +</p> + +<p> +Discovering that, in early life, Israel had been employed on a farm, the man of +wisdom at length turned the conversation in that direction; among other things, +mentioning to his guest a plan of his (the Doctor’s) for yoking oxen, +with a yoke to go by a spring instead of a bolt; thus greatly facilitating the +operation of hitching on the team to the cart. Israel was very much struck with +the improvement; and thought that, if he were home, upon his mountains, he +would immediately introduce it among the farmers. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X.<br/> +ANOTHER ADVENTURER APPEARS UPON THE SCENE.</h2> + +<p> +About half-past ten o’clock, as they were thus conversing, Israel’s +acquaintance, the pretty chambermaid, rapped at the door, saying, with a +titter, that a very rude gentleman in the passage of the court, desired to see +Doctor Franklin. +</p> + +<p> +“A very rude gentleman?” repeated the wise man in French, narrowly +looking at the girl; “that means, a very fine gentleman who has just paid +you some energetic compliment. But let him come up, my girl,” he added +patriarchially. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments, a swift coquettish step was heard, followed, as if in chase, +by a sharp and manly one. The door opened. Israel was sitting so that, +accidentally, his eye pierced the crevice made by the opening of the door, +which, like a theatrical screen, stood for a moment between Doctor Franklin and +the just entering visitor. And behind that screen, through the crack, Israel +caught one momentary glimpse of a little bit of by-play between the pretty +chambermaid and the stranger. The vivacious nymph appeared to have affectedly +run from him on the stairs—doubtless in freakish return for some liberal +advances—but had suffered herself to be overtaken at last ere too late; +and on the instant Israel caught sight of her, was with an insincere air of +rosy resentment, receiving a roguish pinch on the arm, and a still more roguish +salute on the cheek. +</p> + +<p> +The next instant both disappeared from the range of the crevice; the girl +departing whence she had come; the stranger—transiently invisible as he +advanced behind the door—entering the room. When Israel now perceived him +again, he seemed, while momentarily hidden, to have undergone a complete +transformation. +</p> + +<p> +He was a rather small, elastic, swarthy man, with an aspect as of a +disinherited Indian Chief in European clothes. An unvanquishable enthusiasm, +intensified to perfect sobriety, couched in his savage, self-possessed eye. He +was elegantly and somewhat extravagantly dressed as a civilian; he carried +himself with a rustic, barbaric jauntiness, strangely dashed with a +superinduced touch of the Parisian <i>salon</i>. His tawny cheek, like a date, +spoke of the tropic, A wonderful atmosphere of proud friendlessness and +scornful isolation invested him. Yet there was a bit of the poet as well as the +outlaw in him, too. A cool solemnity of intrepidity sat on his lip. He looked +like one who of purpose sought out harm’s way. He looked like one who +never had been, and never would be, a subordinate. +</p> + +<p> +Israel thought to himself that seldom before had he seen such a being. Though +dressed à-la-mode, he did not seem to be altogether civilized. +</p> + +<p> +So absorbed was our adventurer by the person of the stranger, that a few +moments passed ere he began to be aware of the circumstance, that Dr. Franklin +and this new visitor having saluted as old acquaintances, were now sitting in +earnest conversation together. +</p> + +<p> +“Do as you please; but I will not bide a suitor much longer,” said +the stranger in bitterness. “Congress gave me to understand that, upon my +arrival here, I should be given immediate command of the <i>Indien</i>; and +now, for no earthly reason that I can see, you Commissioners have presented +her, fresh from the stocks at Amsterdam, to the King of France, and not to me. +What does the King of France with such a frigate? And what can I <i>not</i> do +with her? Give me back the “Indien,” and in less than one month, +you shall hear glorious or fatal news of Paul Jones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Captain,” said Doctor Franklin, soothingly, +“tell me now, what would you do with her, if you had her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would teach the British that Paul Jones, though born in Britain, is no +subject to the British King, but an untrammelled citizen and sailor of the +universe; and I would teach them, too, that if they ruthlessly ravage the +American coasts, their own coasts are vulnerable as New Holland’s. Give +me the <i>Indien</i>, and I will rain down on wicked England like fire on +Sodom.” +</p> + +<p> +These words of bravado were not spoken in the tone of a bravo, but a prophet. +Erect upon his chair, like an Iroquois, the speaker’s look was like that +of an unflickering torch. +</p> + +<p> +His air seemed slightly to disturb the old sage’s philosophic repose, +who, while not seeking to disguise his admiration of the unmistakable spirit of +the man, seemed but illy to relish his apparent measureless boasting. +</p> + +<p> +As if both to change the subject a little, as well as put his visitor in better +mood—though indeed it might have been but covertly to play with his +enthusiasm—the man of wisdom now drew his chair confidentially nearer to +the stranger’s, and putting one hand in a very friendly, conciliatory way +upon his visitor’s knee, and rubbing it gently to and fro there, much as +a lion-tamer might soothingly manipulate the aggravated king of beasts, said in +a winning manner:—“Never mind at present, Captain, about the +‘<i>Indien</i>’ affair. Let that sleep a moment. See now, the +Jersey privateers do us a great deal of mischief by intercepting our supplies. +It has been mentioned to me, that if you had a small vessel—say, even +your present ship, the ‘Amphitrite,’—then, by your singular +bravery, you might render great service, by following those privateers where +larger ships durst not venture their bottoms; or, if but supported by some +frigates from Brest at a proper distance, might draw them out, so that the +larger vessels could capture them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Decoy-duck to French frigates!—Very dignified office, +truly!” hissed Paul in a fiery rage. “Doctor Franklin, whatever +Paul Jones does for the cause of America, it must be done through unlimited +orders: a separate, supreme command; no leader and no counsellor but himself. +Have I not already by my services on the American coast shown that I am well +worthy all this? Why then do you seek to degrade me below my previous level? I +will mount, not sink. I live but for honor and glory. Give me, then, something +honorable and glorious to do, and something famous to do it with. Give me the +<i>Indien</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The man of wisdom slowly shook his head. “Everything is lost through this +shillyshallying timidity, called prudence,” cried Paul Jones, starting to +his feet; “to be effectual, war should be carried on like a monsoon, one +changeless determination of every particle towards the one unalterable aim. But +in vacillating councils, statesmen idle about like the cats’-paws in +calms. My God, why was I not born a Czar!” +</p> + +<p> +“A Nor’wester, rather. Come, come, Captain,” added the sage, +“sit down, we have a third person present, you see,” pointing +towards Israel, who sat rapt at the volcanic spirit of the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +Paul slightly started, and turned inquiringly upon Israel, who, equally owing +to Paul’s own earnestness of discourse and Israel’s motionless +bearing, had thus far remained undiscovered. +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear, Captain,” said the sage, “this man is true blue, +a secret courier, and an American born. He is an escaped prisoner of +war.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, captured in a ship?” asked Paul eagerly; “what ship? +None of mine! Paul Jones never was captured.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, in the brigantine Washington, out of Boston,” replied +Israel; “we were cruising to cut off supplies to the English.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did your shipmates talk much of me?” demanded Paul, with a look as +of a parading Sioux demanding homage to his gewgaws; “what did they say +of Paul Jones?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard the name before this evening,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“What? Ah—brigantine Washington—let me see; that was before I +had outwitted the Soleby frigate, fought the Milford, and captured the Mellish +and the rest off Louisbergh. You were long before the news, my lad,” he +added, with a sort of compassionate air. +</p> + +<p> +“Our friend here gave you a rather blunt answer,” said the wise +man, sagely mischievous, and addressing Paul. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And I like him for it. My man, will you go a cruise with Paul +Jones? You fellows so blunt with the tongue, are apt to be sharp with the +steel. Come, my lad, return with me to Brest. I go in a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +Fired by the contagious spirit of Paul, Israel, forgetting all about his +previous desire to reach home, sparkled with response to the summons. But +Doctor Franklin interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Our friend here,” said he to the Captain, “is at present +engaged for very different duty.” +</p> + +<p> +Much other conversation followed, during which Paul Jones again and again +expressed his impatience at being unemployed, and his resolution to accept of +no employ unless it gave him supreme authority; while in answer to all this Dr. +Franklin, not uninfluenced by the uncompromising spirit of his guest, and well +knowing that however unpleasant a trait in conversation, or in the transaction +of civil affairs, yet in war this very quality was invaluable, as projectiles +and combustibles, finally assured Paul, after many complimentary remarks, that +he would immediately exert himself to the utmost to procure for him some +enterprise which should come up to his merits. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for your frankness,” said Paul; “frank myself, I +love to deal with a frank man. You, Doctor Franklin, are true and deep, and so +you are frank.” +</p> + +<p> +The sage sedately smiled, a queer incredulity just lurking in the corner of his +mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“But how about our little scheme for new modelling ships-of-war?” +said the Doctor, shifting the subject; “it will be a great thing for our +infant navy, if we succeed. Since our last conversation on that subject, +Captain, at odds and ends of time, I have thought over the matter, and have +begun a little skeleton of the thing here, which I will show you. Whenever one +has a new idea of anything mechanical, it is best to clothe it with a body as +soon as possible. For you can’t improve so well on ideas as you can on +bodies.” +</p> + +<p> +With that, going to a little drawer, he produced a small basket, filled with a +curious looking unfinished frame-work of wood, and several bits of wood +unattached. It looked like a nursery basket containing broken odds and ends of +playthings. +</p> + +<p> +“Now look here, Captain, though the thing is but begun at present, yet +there is enough to show that <i>one</i> idea at least of yours is not +feasible.” +</p> + +<p> +Paul was all attention, as if having unbounded confidence in whatever the sage +might suggest, while Israel looked on quite as interested as either, his heart +swelling with the thought of being privy to the consultations of two such men; +consultations, too, having ultimate reference to such momentous affairs as the +freeing of nations. +</p> + +<p> +“If,” continued the Doctor, taking up some of the loose bits and +piling them along on one side of the top of the frame, “if the better to +shelter your crew in an engagement, you construct your rail in the manner +proposed—as thus—then, by the excessive weight of the timber, you +will too much interfere with the ship’s centre of gravity. You will have +that too high.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ballast in the hold in proportion,” said Paul. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will sink the whole hull too low. But here, to have less smoke +in time of battle, especially on the lower decks, you proposed a new sort of +hatchway. But that won’t do. See here now, I have invented certain +ventilating pipes, they are to traverse the vessel thus”—laying +some toilette pins along—“the current of air to enter here and be +discharged there. What do you think of that? But now about the main +things—fast sailing driving little to leeward, and drawing little water. +Look now at this keel. I whittled it only night before last, just before going +to bed. Do you see now how—” +</p> + +<p> +At this crisis, a knock was heard at the door, and the chambermaid reappeared, +announcing that two gentlemen were that moment crossing the court below to see +Doctor Franklin. +</p> + +<p> +“The Duke de Chartres, and Count D’Estang,” said the Doctor; +“they appointed for last night, but did not come. Captain, this has +something indirectly to do with your affair. Through the Duke, Count +D’Estang has spoken to the King about the secret expedition, the design +of which you first threw out. Call early to-morrow, and I will inform you of +the result.” +</p> + +<p> +With his tawny hand Paul pulled out his watch, a small, richly-jewelled +lady’s watch. +</p> + +<p> +“It is so late, I will stay here to-night,” he said; “is +there a convenient room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quick,” said the Doctor, “it might be ill-advised of you to +be seen with me just now. Our friend here will let you share his chamber. +Quick, Israel, and show the Captain thither.” +</p> + +<p> +As the door closed upon them in Israel’s apartment, Doctor +Franklin’s door closed upon the Duke and the Count. Leaving the latter to +their discussion of profound plans for the timely befriending of the American +cause, and the crippling of the power of England on the seas, let us pass the +night with Paul Jones and Israel in the neighboring room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI.<br/> +PAUL JONES IN A REVERIE.</h2> + +<p> +“‘God helps them that help themselves.’ That’s a +clincher. That’s been my experience. But I never saw it in words before. +What pamphlet is this? ‘Poor Richard,’ hey!” +</p> + +<p> +Upon entering Israel’s room, Captain Paul, stepping towards the table and +spying the open pamphlet there, had taken it up, his eye being immediately +attracted to the passage previously marked by our adventurer. +</p> + +<p> +“A rare old gentleman is ‘Poor Richard,’” said Israel +in response to Paul’s observations. +</p> + +<p> +“So he seems, so he seems,” answered Paul, his eye still running +over the pamphlet again; “why, ‘Poor Richard’ reads very much +as Doctor Franklin speaks.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wrote it,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye? Good. So it is, so it is; it’s the wise man all over. I must +get me a copy of this and wear it around my neck for a charm. And now about our +quarters for the night. I am not going to deprive you of your bed, my man. Do +you go to bed and I will doze in the chair here. It’s good dozing in the +crosstrees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not sleep together?” said Israel; “see, it is a big bed. +Or perhaps you don’t fancy your bed-fellow. Captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“When, before the mast, I first sailed out of Whitehaven to +Norway,” said Paul, coolly, “I had for hammock-mate a full-blooded +Congo. We had a white blanket spread in our hammock. Every time I turned in I +found the Congo’s black wool worked in with the white worsted. By the end +of the voyage the blanket was of a pepper-and-salt look, like an old +man’s turning head. So it’s not because I am notional at all, but +because I don’t care to, my lad. Turn in and go to sleep. Let the lamp +burn. I’ll see to it. There, go to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +Complying with what seemed as much a command as a request, Israel, though in +bed, could not fall into slumber for thinking of the little circumstance that +this strange swarthy man, flaming with wild enterprises, sat in full suit in +the chair. He felt an uneasy misgiving sensation, as if he had retired, not +only without covering up the fire, but leaving it fiercely burning with +spitting fagots of hemlock. +</p> + +<p> +But his natural complaisance induced him at least to feign himself asleep; +whereupon. Paul, laying down “Poor Richard,” rose from his chair, +and, withdrawing his boots, began walking rapidly but noiselessly to and fro, +in his stockings, in the spacious room, wrapped in Indian meditations. Israel +furtively eyed him from beneath the coverlid, and was anew struck by his +aspect, now that Paul thought himself unwatched. Stern relentless purposes, to +be pursued to the points of adverse bayonets and the muzzles of hostile cannon, +were expressed in the now rigid lines of his brow. His ruffled right hand was +clutched by his side, as if grasping a cutlass. He paced the room as if +advancing upon a fortification. Meantime a confused buzz of discussion came +from the neighboring chamber. All else was profound midnight tranquillity. +Presently, passing the large mirror over the mantel, Paul caught a glimpse of +his person. He paused, grimly regarding it, while a dash of pleased coxcombry +seemed to mingle with the otherwise savage satisfaction expressed in his face. +But the latter predominated. Soon, rolling up his sleeve, with a queer wild +smile, Paul lifted his right arm, and stood thus for an interval, eyeing its +image in the glass. From where he lay, Israel could not see that side of the +arm presented to the mirror, but he saw its reflection, and started at +perceiving there, framed in the carved and gilded wood, certain large +intertwisted ciphers covering the whole inside of the arm, so far as exposed, +with mysterious tattooings. The design was wholly unlike the fanciful figures +of anchors, hearts, and cables, sometimes decorating small portions of +seamen’s bodies. It was a sort of tattooing such as is seen only on +thoroughbred savages—deep blue, elaborate, labyrinthine, cabalistic. +Israel remembered having beheld, on one of his early voyages, something similar +on the arm of a New Zealand warrior, once met, fresh from battle, in his native +village. He concluded that on some similar early voyage Paul must have +undergone the manipulations of some pagan artist. Covering his arm again with +his laced coat-sleeve, Paul glanced ironically at the hand of the same arm, now +again half muffled in ruffles, and ornamented with several Parisian rings. He +then resumed his walking with a prowling air, like one haunting an ambuscade; +while a gleam of the consciousness of possessing a character as yet +un-fathomed, and hidden power to back unsuspected projects, irradiated his cold +white brow, which, owing to the shade of his hat in equatorial climates, had +been left surmounting his swarthy face, like the snow topping the Andes. +</p> + +<p> +So at midnight, the heart of the metropolis of modern civilization was secretly +trod by this jaunty barbarian in broadcloth; a sort of prophetical ghost, +glimmering in anticipation upon the advent of those tragic scenes of the French +Revolution which levelled the exquisite refinement of Paris with the +bloodthirsty ferocity of Borneo; showing that broaches and finger-rings, not +less than nose-rings and tattooing, are tokens of the primeval savageness which +ever slumbers in human kind, civilized or uncivilized. +</p> + +<p> +Israel slept not a wink that night. The troubled spirit of Paul paced the +chamber till morning; when, copiously bathing himself at the wash-stand, Paul +looked care-free and fresh as a daybreak hawk. After a closeted consultation +with Doctor Franklin, he left the place with a light and dandified air, +switching his gold-headed cane, and throwing a passing arm round all the pretty +chambermaids he encountered, kissing them resoundingly, as if saluting a +frigate. All barbarians are rakes. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII.<br/> +RECROSSING THE CHANNEL, ISRAEL RETURNS TO THE SQUIRE’S ABODE—HIS +ADVENTURES THERE.</h2> + +<p> +On the third day, as Israel was walking to and fro in his room, having removed +his courier’s boots, for fear of disturbing the Doctor, a quick sharp rap +at the door announced the American envoy. The man of wisdom entered, with two +small wads of paper in one hand, and several crackers and a bit of cheese in +the other. There was such an eloquent air of instantaneous dispatch about him, +that Israel involuntarily sprang to his boots, and, with two vigorous jerks, +hauled them on, and then seizing his hat, like any bird, stood poised for his +flight across the channel. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, my honest friend,” said the Doctor; “you have the +papers in your heel, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” exclaimed Israel, perceiving the mild irony; and in an +instant his boots were off again; when, without another word, the Doctor took +one boot, and Israel the other, and forthwith both parties proceeded to secrete +the documents. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I could improve the design,” said the sage, as, +notwithstanding his haste, he critically eyed the screwing apparatus of the +boot. “The vacancy should have been in the standing part of the heel, not +in the lid. It should go with a spring, too, for better dispatch. I’ll +draw up a paper on false heels one of these days, and send it to a private +reading at the Institute. But no time for it now. My honest friend, it is now +half past ten o’clock. At half past eleven the diligence starts from the +Place-du-Carrousel for Calais. Make all haste till you arrive at Brentford. I +have a little provender here for you to eat in the diligence, as you will not +have time for a regular meal. A day-and-night courier should never be without a +cracker in his pocket. You will probably leave Brentford in a day or two after +your arrival there. Be wary, now, my good friend; heed well, that, if you are +caught with these papers on British ground, you will involve both yourself and +our Brentford friends in fatal calamities. Kick no man’s box, never mind +whose, in the way. Mind your own box. You can’t be too cautious, but +don’t be too suspicious. God bless you, my honest friend. Go!” +</p> + +<p> +And, flinging the door open for his exit, the Doctor saw Israel dart into the +entry, vigorously spring down the stairs, and disappear with all celerity +across the court into the vaulted way. +</p> + +<p> +The man of wisdom stood mildly motionless a moment, with a look of sagacious, +humane meditation on his face, as if pondering upon the chances of the +important enterprise: one which, perhaps, might in the sequel affect the weal +or woe of nations yet to come. Then suddenly clapping his hand to his capacious +coat-pocket, dragged out a bit of cork with some hen’s feathers, and +hurrying to his room, took out his knife, and proceeded to whittle away at a +shuttlecock of an original scientific construction, which at some prior time he +had promised to send to the young Duchess D’Abrantes that very afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +Safely reaching Calais, at night, Israel stepped almost from the diligence into +the packet, and, in a few moments, was cutting the water. As on the diligence +he took an outside and plebeian seat, so, with the same secret motive of +preserving unsuspected the character assumed, he took a deck passage in the +packet. It coming on to rain violently, he stole down into the forecastle, +dimly lit by a solitary swinging lamp, where were two men industriously +smoking, and filling the narrow hole with soporific vapors. These induced +strange drowsiness in Israel, and he pondered how best he might indulge it, for +a time, without imperilling the precious documents in his custody. +</p> + +<p> +But this pondering in such soporific vapors had the effect of those +mathematical devices whereby restless people cipher themselves to sleep. His +languid head fell to his breast. In another moment, he drooped half-lengthwise +upon a chest, his legs outstretched before him. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he was awakened by some intermeddlement with his feet. Starting to +his elbow, he saw one of the two men in the act of slyly slipping off his right +boot, while the left one, already removed, lay on the floor, all ready against +the rascal’s retreat Had it not been for the lesson learned on the Pont +Neuf, Israel would instantly have inferred that his secret mission was known, +and the operator some designed diplomatic knave or other, hired by the British +Cabinet, thus to lie in wait for him, fume him into slumber with tobacco, and +then rifle him of his momentous dispatches. But as it was, he recalled Doctor +Franklin’s prudent admonitions against the indulgence of premature +suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Israel very civilly, “I will thank you for that +boot which lies on the floor, and, if you please, you can let the other stay +where it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” said the rascal, an accomplished, self-possessed +practitioner in his thievish art; “I thought your boots might be pinching +you, and only wished to ease you a little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much obliged to ye for your kindness, sir,” said Israel; +“but they don’t pinch me at all. I suppose, though, you think they +wouldn’t pinch <i>you</i> either; your foot looks rather small. Were you +going to try ’em on, just to see how they fitted?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the fellow, with sanctimonious seriousness; “but +with your permission I should like to try them on, when we get to Dover. I +couldn’t try them well walking on this tipsy craft’s deck, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Israel, “and the beach at Dover ain’t +very smooth either. I guess, upon second thought, you had better not try +’em on at all. Besides, I am a simple sort of a soul—eccentric they +call me—and don’t like my boots to go out of my sight. Ha! +ha!” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you laughing at?” said the fellow testily. +</p> + +<p> +“Odd idea! I was just looking at those sad old patched boots there on +your feet, and thinking to myself what leaky fire-buckets they would be to pass +up a ladder on a burning building. It would hardly be fair now to swop my new +boots for those old fire-buckets, would it?” +</p> + +<p> +“By plunko!” cried the fellow, willing now by a bold stroke to +change the subject, which was growing slightly annoying; “by plunko, I +believe we are getting nigh Dover. Let’s see.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, he sprang up the ladder to the deck. Upon Israel following, he +found the little craft half becalmed, rolling on short swells almost in the +exact middle of the channel. It was just before the break of the morning; the +air clear and fine; the heavens spangled with moistly twinkling stars. The +French and English coasts lay distinctly visible in the strange starlight, the +white cliffs of Dover resembling a long gabled block of marble houses. Both +shores showed a long straight row of lamps. Israel seemed standing in the +middle of the crossing of some wide stately street in London. Presently a +breeze sprang up, and ere long our adventurer disembarked at his destined port, +and directly posted on for Brentford. +</p> + +<p> +The following afternoon, having gained unobserved admittance into the house, +according to preconcerted signals, he was sitting in Squire Woodcock’s +closet, pulling off his boots and delivering his dispatches. +</p> + +<p> +Having looked over the compressed tissuey sheets, and read a line particularly +addressed to himself, the Squire, turning round upon Israel, congratulated him +upon his successful mission, placed some refreshment before him, and apprised +him that, owing to certain suspicious symptoms in the neighborhood, he (Israel) +must now remain concealed in the house for a day or two, till an answer should +be ready for Paris. +</p> + +<p> +It was a venerable mansion, as was somewhere previously stated, of a wide and +rambling disorderly spaciousness, built, for the most part, of weather-stained +old bricks, in the goodly style called Elizabethan. As without, it was all dark +russet bricks, so within, it was nothing but tawny oak panels. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my good fellow,” said the Squire, “my wife has a number +of guests, who wander from room to room, having the freedom of the house. So I +shall have to put you very snugly away, to guard against any chance of +discovery.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, first locking the door, he touched a spring nigh the open +fire-place, whereupon one of the black sooty stone jambs of the chimney started +ajar, just like the marble gate of a tomb. Inserting one leg of the heavy tongs +in the crack, the Squire pried this cavernous gate wide open. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Squire Woodcock, what is the matter with your chimney?” said +Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, go in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to sweep the chimney?” demanded Israel; “I didn’t +engage for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh, pooh, this is your hiding-place. Come, move in.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where does it go to, Squire Woodcock? I don’t like the looks +of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me. I’ll show you.” +</p> + +<p> +Pushing his florid corpulence into the mysterious aperture, the elderly Squire +led the way up steep stairs of stone, hardly two feet in width, till they +reached a little closet, or rather cell, built into the massive main wall of +the mansion, and ventilated and dimly lit by two little sloping slits, +ingeniously concealed without, by their forming the sculptured mouths of two +griffins cut in a great stone tablet decorating that external part of the +dwelling. A mattress lay rolled up in one corner, with a jug of water, a flask +of wine, and a wooden trencher containing cold roast beef and bread. +</p> + +<p> +“And I am to be buried alive here?” said Israel, ruefully looking +round. +</p> + +<p> +“But your resurrection will soon be at hand,” smiled the Squire; +“two days at the furthest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Though to be sure I was a sort of prisoner in Paris, just as I seem +about to be made here,” said Israel, “yet Doctor Franklin put me in +a better jug than this, Squire Woodcock. It was set out with boquets and a +mirror, and other fine things. Besides, I could step out into the entry +whenever I wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but, my hero, that was in France, and this is in England. There you +were in a friendly country: here you are in the enemy’s. If you should be +discovered in my house, and your connection with me became known, do you know +that it would go very hard with me; very hard indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, for your sake, I am willing to stay wherever you think best to put +me,” replied Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, you say you want boquets and a mirror. If those articles +will at all help to solace your seclusion, I will bring them to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“They really would be company; the sight of my own face +particularly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay here, then. I will be back in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +In less than that time, the good old Squire returned, puffing and panting, with +a great bunch of flowers, and a small shaving-glass. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said he, putting them down; “now keep perfectly +quiet; avoid making any undue noise, and on no account descend the stairs, till +I come for you again.” +</p> + +<p> +“But when will that be?” asked Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“I will try to come twice each day while you are here. But there is no +knowing what may happen. If I should not visit you till I come to liberate +you—on the evening of the second day, or the morning of the +third—you must not be at all surprised, my good fellow. There is plenty +of food-and water to last you. But mind, on no account descend the stone-stairs +till I come for you.” +</p> + +<p> +With that, bidding his guest adieu, he left him. +</p> + +<p> +Israel stood glancing pensively around for a time. By and by, moving the rolled +mattress under the two air-slits, he mounted, to try if aught were visible +beyond. But nothing was to be seen but a very thin slice of blue sky peeping +through the lofty foliage of a great tree planted near the side-portal of the +mansion; an ancient tree, coeval with the ancient dwelling it guarded. +</p> + +<p> +Sitting down on the Mattress, Israel fell into a reverie. +</p> + +<p> +“Poverty and liberty, or plenty and a prison, seem to be the two horns of +the constant dilemma of my life,” thought he. “Let’s look at +the prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +And taking up the shaving-glass, he surveyed his lineaments. +</p> + +<p> +“What a pity I didn’t think to ask for razors and soap. I want +shaving very badly. I shaved last in France. How it would pass the time here. +Had I a comb now and a razor, I might shave and curl my hair, and keep making a +continual toilet all through the two days, and look spruce as a robin when I +get out. I’ll ask the Squire for the things this very night when he drops +in. Hark! ain’t that a sort of rumbling in the wall? I hope there +ain’t any oven next door; if so, I shall be scorched out. Here I am, just +like a rat in the wainscot. I wish there was a low window to look out of. I +wonder what Doctor Franklin is doing now, and Paul Jones? Hark! there’s a +bird singing in the leaves. Bell for dinner, that.” +</p> + +<p> +And for pastime, he applied himself to the beef and bread, and took a draught +of the wine and water. +</p> + +<p> +At last night fell. He was left in utter darkness. No Squire. +</p> + +<p> +After an anxious, sleepless night, he saw two long flecks of pale gray light +slanting into the cell from the slits, like two long spears. He rose, rolled up +his mattress, got upon the roll, and put his mouth to one of the +griffins’ months. He gave a low, just audible whistle, directing it +towards the foliage of the tree. Presently there was a slight rustling among +the leaves, then one solitary chirrup, and in three minutes a whole chorus of +melody burst upon his ear. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve waked the first bird,” said he to himself, with a +smile, “and he’s waked all the rest. Now then for breakfast. That +over, I dare say the Squire will drop in.” +</p> + +<p> +But the breakfast was over, and the two flecks of pale light had changed to +golden beams, and the golden beams grew less and less slanting, till they +straightened themselves up out of sight altogether. It was noon, and no Squire. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone a-hunting before breakfast, and got belated,” +thought Israel. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon shadows lengthened. It was sunset; no Squire. +</p> + +<p> +“He must be very busy trying some sheep-stealer in the hall,” mused +Israel. “I hope he won’t forget all about me till to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited and listened; and listened and waited. +</p> + +<p> +Another restless night; no sleep; morning came. The second day passed like the +first, and the night. On the third morning the flowers lay shrunken by his +side. Drops of wet oozing through the air- slits, fell dully on the stone +floor. He heard the dreary beatings of the tree’s leaves against the +mouths of the griffins, bedashing them with the spray of the rain-storm +without. At intervals a burst of thunder rolled over his head, and lightning +flashing down through the slits, lit up the cell with a greenish glare, +followed by sharp splashings and rattlings of the redoubled rain-storm. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the morning of the third day,” murmured Israel to himself; +“he said he would at the furthest come to me on the morning of the third +day. This is it. Patience, he will be here yet. Morning lasts till noon.” +</p> + +<p> +But, owing to the murkiness of the day, it was very hard to tell when noon +came. Israel refused to credit that noon had come and gone, till dusk set +plainly in. Dreading he knew not what, he found himself buried in the darkness +of still another night. However patient and hopeful hitherto, fortitude now +presently left him. Suddenly, as if some contagious fever had seized him, he +was afflicted with strange enchantments of misery, undreamed of till now. +</p> + +<p> +He had eaten all the beef, but there was bread and water sufficient to last, by +economy, for two or three days to come. It was not the pang of hunger then, but +a nightmare originating in his mysterious incarceration, which appalled him. +All through the long hours of this particular night, the sense of being masoned +up in the wall, grew, and grew, and grew upon him, till again and again he +lifted himself convulsively from the floor, as if vast blocks of stone had been +laid on him; as if he had been digging a deep well, and the stonework with all +the excavated earth had caved in upon him, where he burrowed ninety feet +beneath the clover. In the blind tomb of the midnight he stretched his two arms +sideways, and felt as if coffined at not being able to extend them straight +out, on opposite sides, for the narrowness of the cell. He seated himself +against one side of the wall, crosswise with the cell, and pushed with his feet +at the opposite wall. But still mindful of his promise in this extremity, he +uttered no cry. He mutely raved in the darkness. The delirious sense of the +absence of light was soon added to his other delirium as to the contraction of +space. The lids of his eyes burst with impotent distension. Then he thought the +air itself was getting unbearable. He stood up at the griffin slits, pressing +his lips far into them till he moulded his lips there, to suck the utmost of +the open air possible. +</p> + +<p> +And continually, to heighten his frenzy, there recurred to him again and again +what the Squire had told him as to the origin of the cell. It seemed that this +part of the old house, or rather this wall of it, was extremely ancient, dating +far beyond the era of Elizabeth, having once formed portion of a religious +retreat belonging to the Templars. The domestic discipline of this order was +rigid and merciless in the extreme. In a side wall of their second storey +chapel, horizontal and on a level with the floor, they had an internal vacancy +left, exactly of the shape and average size of a coffin. In this place, from +time to time, inmates convicted of contumacy were confined; but, strange to +say, not till they were penitent. A small hole, of the girth of one’s +wrist, sunk like a telescope three feet through the masonry into the cell, +served at once for ventilation, and to push through food to the prisoner. This +hole opening into the chapel also enabled the poor solitaire, as intended, to +overhear the religious services at the altar; and, without being present, take +part in the same. It was deemed a good sign of the state of the +sufferer’s soul, if from the gloomy recesses of the wall was heard the +agonized groan of his dismal response. This was regarded in the light of a +penitent wail from the dead, because the customs of the order ordained that +when any inmate should be first incarcerated in the wall, he should be +committed to it in the presence of all the brethren, the chief reading the +burial service as the live body was sepulchred. Sometimes several weeks elapsed +ere the disentombment, the penitent being then usually found numb and congealed +in all his extremities, like one newly stricken with paralysis. +</p> + +<p> +This coffin-cell of the Templars had been suffered to remain in the demolition +of the general edifice, to make way for the erection of the new, in the reign +of Queen Elizabeth. It was enlarged somewhat, and altered, and additionally +ventilated, to adapt it for a place of concealment in times of civil +dissension. +</p> + +<p> +With this history ringing in his solitary brain, it may readily be conceived +what Israel’s feelings must have been. Here, in this very darkness, +centuries ago, hearts, human as his, had mildewed in despair; limbs, robust as +his own, had stiffened in immovable torpor. +</p> + +<p> +At length, after what seemed all the prophetic days and years of Daniel, +morning broke. The benevolent light entered the cell, soothing his frenzy, as +if it had been some smiling human face—nay, the Squire himself, come at +last to redeem him from thrall. Soon his dumb ravings entirely left him, and +gradually, with a sane, calm mind, he revolved all the circumstances of his +condition. +</p> + +<p> +He could not be mistaken; something fatal must have befallen his friend. Israel +remembered the Squire’s hinting that in case of the discovery of his +clandestine proceedings it would fare extremely hard with him, Israel was +forced to conclude that this same unhappy discovery had been made; that owing +to some untoward misadventure his good friend had been carried off a +State-prisoner to London; that prior to his going the Squire had not apprised +any member of his household that he was about to leave behind him a prisoner in +the wall; this seemed evident from the circumstance that, thus far, no soul had +visited that prisoner. It could not be otherwise. Doubtless the Squire, having +no opportunity to converse in private with his relatives or friends at the +moment of his sudden arrest, had been forced to keep his secret, for the +present, for fear of involving Israel in still worse calamities. But would he +leave him to perish piecemeal in the wall? All surmise was baffled in the +unconjecturable possibilities of the case. But some sort of action must +speedily be determined upon. Israel would not additionally endanger the Squire, +but he could not in such uncertainty consent to perish where he was. He +resolved at all hazards to escape, by stealth and noiselessly, if possible; by +violence and outcry, if indispensable. +</p> + +<p> +Gliding out of the cell, he descended the stone stairs, and stood before the +interior of the jamb. He felt an immovable iron knob, but no more. He groped +about gently for some bolt or spring. When before he had passed through the +passage with his guide, he had omitted to notice by what precise mechanism the +jamb was to be opened from within, or whether, indeed, it could at all be +opened except from without. +</p> + +<p> +He was about giving up the search in despair, after sweeping with his two hands +every spot of the wall-surface around him, when chancing to turn his whole body +a little to one side, he heard a creak, and saw a thin lance of light. His foot +had unconsciously pressed some spring laid in the floor. The jamb was ajar. +Pushing it open, he stood at liberty, in the Squire’s closet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +HIS ESCAPE FROM THE HOUSE, WITH VARIOUS ADVENTURES FOLLOWING.</h2> + +<p> +He started at the funereal aspect of the room, into which, since he last stood +there, undertakers seemed to have stolen. The curtains of the window were +festooned with long weepers of crape. The four corners of the red cloth on the +round table were knotted with crape. +</p> + +<p> +Knowing nothing of these mournful customs of the country, nevertheless, +Israel’s instinct whispered him that Squire Woodcock lived no more on +this earth. At once the whole three days’ mystery was made clear. But +what was now to be done? His friend must have died very suddenly; most probably +struck down in a fit, from which he never more rose. With him had perished all +knowledge of the fact that a stranger was immured in the mansion. If discovered +then, prowling here in the inmost privacies of a gentleman’s abode, what +would befall the wanderer, already not unsuspected in the neighborhood of some +underhand guilt as a fugitive? If he adhered to the strict truth, what could he +offer in his own defence without convicting himself of acts which, by English +tribunals, would be accounted flagitious crimes? Unless, indeed, by involving +the memory of the deceased Squire Woodcock in his own self acknowledged +proceedings, so ungenerous a charge should result in an abhorrent refusal to +credit his extraordinary tale, whether as referring to himself or another, and +so throw him open to still more grievous suspicions? +</p> + +<p> +While wrapped in these dispiriting reveries, he heard a step not very far off +in the passage. It seemed approaching. Instantly he flew to the jamb, which +remained unclosed, and disappearing within, drew the stone after him by the +iron knob. Owing to his hurried violence the jamb closed with a dull, dismal +and singular noise. A shriek followed from within the room. In a panic, Israel +fled up the dark stairs, and near the top, in his eagerness, stumbled and fell +back to the last step with a rolling din, which, reverberated by the arch +overhead, smote through and through the wall, dying away at last indistinctly, +like low muffled thunder among the clefts of deep hills. When raising himself +instantly, not seriously bruised by his fall, Israel instantly listened, the +echoing sounds of his descent were mingled with added shrieks from within the +room. They seemed some nervous female’s, alarmed by what must have +appeared to her supernatural, or at least unaccountable, noises in the wall. +Directly he heard other voices of alarm undistinguishably commingled, and then +they retreated together, and all again was still. +</p> + +<p> +Recovering from his first amazement, Israel revolved these occurrences. +“No creature now in the house knows of the cell,” thought he. +“Some woman, the housekeeper, perhaps, first entered the room alone. Just +as she entered the jamb closed. The sudden report made her shriek; then, +afterwards, the noise of my fall prolonging itself, added to her fright, while +her repeated shrieks brought every soul in the house to her, who aghast at +seeing her lying in a pale faint, it may be, like a corpse, in a room hung with +crape for a man just dead, they also shrieked out, and then with blended +lamentations they bore the fainting person away. Now this will follow; no doubt +it <i>has</i> followed ere now:—they believe that the woman saw or heard +the spirit of Squire Woodcock. Since I seem then to understand how all these +strange events have occurred, since I seem to know that they have plain common +causes, I begin to feel cool and calm again. Let me see. Yes. I have it. By +means of the idea of the ghost prevailing among the frightened household, by +that means I will this very night make good my escape. If I can but lay hands +on some of the late Squire’s clothing, if but a coat and hat of his, I +shall be certain to succeed. It is not too early to begin now. They will hardly +come back to the room in a hurry. I will return to it and see what I can find +to serve my purpose. It is the Squire’s private closet, hence it is not +unlikely that here some at least of his clothing will be found.” +</p> + +<p> +With these, thoughts, he cautiously sprung the iron under foot, peeped in, and, +seeing all clear, boldly re-entered the apartment. He went straight to a high, +narrow door in the opposite wall. The key was in the lock. Opening the door, +there hung several coats, small-clothes, pairs of silk stockings, and hats of +the deceased. With little difficulty Israel selected from these the complete +suit in which he had last seen his once jovial friend. Carefully closing the +door, and carrying the suit with him, he was returning towards the chimney, +when he saw the Squire’s silver-headed cane leaning against a corner of +the wainscot. Taking this also, he stole back to his cell. +</p> + +<p> +Slipping off his own clothing, he deliberately arrayed himself in the borrowed +raiment, silk small-clothes and all, then put on the cocked hat, grasped the +silver-headed cane in his right hand, and moving his small shaving-glass slowly +up and down before him, so as by piecemeal to take in his whole figure, felt +convinced that he would well pass for Squire Woodcock’s genuine phantom. +But after the first feeling of self-satisfaction with his anticipated success +had left him, it was not without some superstitious embarrassment that Israel +felt himself encased in a dead man’s broadcloth; nay, in the very coat in +which the deceased had no doubt fallen down in his fit. By degrees he began to +feel almost as unreal and shadowy as the shade whose part he intended to enact. +</p> + +<p> +Waiting long and anxiously till darkness came, and then till he thought it was +fairly midnight, he stole back into the closet, and standing for a moment +uneasily in the middle of the floor, thinking over all the risks he might run, +he lingered till he felt himself resolute and calm. Then groping for the door +leading into the hall, put his hand on the knob and turned it. But the door +refused to budge. Was it locked? The key was not in. Turning the knob once +more, and holding it so, he pressed firmly against the door. It did not move. +More firmly still, when suddenly it burst open with a loud crackling report. +Being cramped, it had stuck in the sill. Less than three seconds passed when, +as Israel was groping his way down the long wide hall towards the large +staircase at its opposite end, he heard confused hurrying noises from the +neighboring rooms, and in another instant several persons, mostly in +night-dresses, appeared at their chamber-doors, thrusting out alarmed faces, +lit by a lamp held by one of the number, a rather elderly lady in widow’s +weeds, who by her appearance seemed to have just risen from a sleepless chair, +instead of an oblivious couch. Israel’s heart beat like a hammer; his +face turned like a sheet. But bracing himself, pulling his hat lower down over +his eyes, settling his head in the collar of his coat, he advanced along the +defile of wildly staring faces. He advanced with a slow and stately step, +looked neither to the right nor the left, but went solemnly forward on his now +faintly illuminated way, sounding his cane on the floor as he passed. The faces +in the doorways curdled his blood by their rooted looks. Glued to the spot, +they seemed incapable of motion. Each one was silent as he advanced towards him +or her, but as he left each individual, one after another, behind, each in a +frenzy shrieked out, “The Squire, the Squire!” As he passed the +lady in the widow’s weeds, she fell senseless and crosswise before him. +But forced to be immutable in his purpose, Israel, solemnly stepping over her +prostrate form, marched deliberately on. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes more he had reached the main door of the mansion, and +withdrawing the chain and bolt, stood in the open air. It was a bright +moonlight night. He struck slowly across the open grounds towards the sunken +fields beyond. When-midway across the grounds, he turned towards the mansion, +and saw three of the front windows filled with white faces, gazing in terror at +the wonderful spectre. Soon descending a slope, he disappeared from their view. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he came to hilly land in meadow, whose grass having been lately cut, +now lay dotting the slope in cocks; a sinuous line of creamy vapor meandered +through the lowlands at the base of the hill; while beyond was a dense grove of +dwarfish trees, with here and there a tall tapering dead trunk, peeled of the +bark, and overpeering the rest. The vapor wore the semblance of a deep stream +of water, imperfectly descried; the grove looked like some closely-clustering +town on its banks, lorded over by spires of churches. +</p> + +<p> +The whole scene magically reproduced to our adventurer the aspect of Bunker +Hill, Charles River, and Boston town, on the well-remembered night of the 16th +of June. The same season; the same moon; the same new-mown hay on the shaven +sward; hay which was scraped together during the night to help pack into the +redoubt so hurriedly thrown up. +</p> + +<p> +Acted on as if by enchantment, Israel sat down on one of the cocks, and gave +himself up to reverie. But, worn out by long loss of sleep, his reveries would +have soon merged into slumber’s still wilder dreams, had he not rallied +himself, and departed on his way, fearful of forgetting himself in an emergency +like the present. It now occurred to him that, well as his disguise had served +him in escaping from the mansion of Squire Woodcock, that disguise might +fatally endanger him if he should be discovered in it abroad. He might pass for +a ghost at night, and among the relations and immediate friends of the +gentleman deceased; but by day, and among indifferent persons, he ran no small +risk of being apprehended for an entry-thief. He bitterly lamented his omission +in not pulling on the Squire’s clothes over his own, so that he might now +have reappeared in his former guise. +</p> + +<p> +As meditating over this difficulty, he was passing along, suddenly he saw a man +in black standing right in his path, about fifty yards distant, in a field of +some growing barley or wheat. The gloomy stranger was standing stock-still; one +outstretched arm, with weird intimation pointing towards the deceased +Squire’s abode. To the brooding soul of the now desolate Israel, so +strange a sight roused a supernatural suspicion. His conscience morbidly +reproaching him for the terrors he had bred in making his escape from the +house, he seemed to see in the fixed gesture of the stranger something more +than humanly significant. But somewhat of his intrepidity returned; he resolved +to test the apparition. Composing itself to the same deliberate stateliness +with which it had paced the hall, the phantom of Squire Woodcock firmly, +advanced its cane, and marched straight forward towards the mysterious +stranger. +</p> + +<p> +As he neared him, Israel shrunk. The dark coat-sleeve flapped on the bony +skeleton of the unknown arm. The face was lost in a sort of ghastly blank. It +was no living man. +</p> + +<p> +But mechanically continuing his course, Israel drew still nearer and saw a +scarecrow. +</p> + +<p> +Not a little relieved by the discovery, our adventurer paused, more +particularly to survey so deceptive an object, which seemed to have been +constructed on the most efficient principles; probably by some broken down wax +figure costumer. It comprised the complete wardrobe of a scarecrow, namely: a +cocked hat, bunged; tattered coat; old velveteen breeches; and long worsted +stockings, full of holes; all stuffed very nicely with straw, and skeletoned by +a frame-work of poles. There was a great flapped pocket to the coat—which +seemed to have been some laborer’s—standing invitingly opened. +Putting his hands in, Israel drew out the lid of an old tobacco-box, the broken +bowl of a pipe, two rusty nails, and a few kernels of wheat. This reminded him +of the Squire’s pockets. Trying them, he produced a handsome +handkerchief, a spectacle-case, with a purse containing some silver and gold, +amounting to a little more than five pounds. Such is the difference between the +contents of the pockets of scarecrows and the pockets of well-to-do squires. +Ere donning his present habiliments, Israel had not omitted to withdraw his own +money from his own coat, and put it in the pocket of his own waistcoat, which +he had not exchanged. +</p> + +<p> +Looking upon the scarecrow more attentively, it struck him that, miserable as +its wardrobe was, nevertheless here was a chance for getting rid of the +unsuitable and perilous clothes of the Squire. No other available opportunity +might present itself for a time. Before he encountered any living creature by +daylight, another suit must somehow be had. His exchange with the old ditcher, +after his escape from the inn near Portsmouth, had familiarized him with the +most deplorable of wardrobes. Well, too, he knew, and had experienced it, that +for a man desirous of avoiding notice, the more wretched the clothes, the +better. For who does not shun the scurvy wretch, Poverty, advancing in battered +hat and lamentable coat? +</p> + +<p> +Without more ado, slipping off the Squire’s raiment, he donned the +scarecrow’s, after carefully shaking out the hay, which, from many +alternate soakings and bakings in rain and sun, had become quite broken up, and +would have been almost dust, were it not for the mildew which damped it. But +sufficient of this wretched old hay remained adhesive to the inside of the +breeches and coat-sleeves, to produce the most irritating torment. +</p> + +<p> +The grand moral question now came up, what to do with the purse. Would it be +dishonest under the circumstances to appropriate that purse? Considering the +whole matter, and not forgetting that he had not received from the gentleman +deceased the promised reward for his services as courier, Israel concluded that +he might justly use the money for his own. To which opinion surely no +charitable judge will demur. Besides, what should he do with the purse, if not +use it for his own? It would have been insane to have returned it to the +relations. Such mysterious honesty would have but resulted in his arrest as a +rebel, or rascal. As for the Squire’s clothes, handkerchief, and +spectacle-case, they must be put out of sight with all dispatch. So, going to a +morass not remote, Israel sunk them deep down, and heaped tufts of the rank sod +upon them. Then returning to the field of corn, sat down under the lee of a +rock, about a hundred yards from where the scarecrow had stood, thinking which +way he now had best direct his steps. But his late ramble coming after so long +a deprivation of rest, soon produced effects not so easy to be shaken off, as +when reposing upon the haycock. He felt less anxious too, since changing his +apparel. So before he was aware, he fell into deep sleep. +</p> + +<p> +When he awoke, the sun was well up in the sky. Looking around he saw a +farm-laborer with a pitchfork coming at a distance into view, whose steps +seemed bent in a direction not far from the spot where he lay. Immediately it +struck our adventurer that this man must be familiar with the scarecrow; +perhaps had himself fashioned it. Should he miss it then, he might make +immediate search, and so discover the thief so imprudently loitering upon the +very field of his operations. +</p> + +<p> +Waiting until the man momentarily disappeared in a little hollow, Israel ran +briskly to the identical spot where the scarecrow had stood, where, standing +stiffly erect, pulling the hat well over his face, and thrusting out his arm, +pointed steadfastly towards the Squire’s abode, he awaited the event. +Soon the man reappeared in sight, and marching right on, paused not far from +Israel, and gave him an one earnest look, as if it were his daily wont to +satisfy that all was right with the scarecrow. No sooner was the man departed +to a reasonable distance, than, quitting his post, Israel struck across the +fields towards London. But he had not yet quite quitted the field when it +occurred to him to turn round and see if the man was completely out of sight, +when, to his consternation, he saw the man returning towards him, evidently by +his pace and gesture in unmixed amazement. The man must have turned round to +look before Israel had done so. Frozen to the ground, Israel knew not what to +do; but next moment it struck him that this very motionlessness was the least +hazardous plan in such a strait. Thrusting out his arm again towards the house, +once more he stood stock still, and again awaited the event. +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that this time, in pointing towards the house, Israel +unavoidably pointed towards the advancing man. Hoping that the strangeness of +this coincidence might, by operating on the man’s superstition, incline +him to beat an immediate retreat, Israel kept cool as he might. But the man +proved to be of a braver metal than anticipated. In passing the spot where the +scarecrow had stood, and perceiving, beyond the possibility of mistake, that +by, some unaccountable agency it had suddenly removed itself to a distance, +instead of being, terrified at this verification of his worst apprehensions, +the man pushed on for Israel, apparently resolved to sift this mystery to the +bottom. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing him now determinately coming, with pitchfork valiantly presented, +Israel, as a last means of practising on the fellow’s fears of the +supernatural, suddenly doubled up both fists, presenting them savagely towards +him at a distance of about twenty paces, at the same time showing his teeth +like a skull’s, and demoniacally rolling his eyes. The man paused +bewildered, looked all round him, looked at the springing grain, then across at +some trees, then up at the sky, and satisfied at last by those observations +that the world at large had not undergone a miracle in the last fifteen +minutes, resolutely resumed his advance; the pitchfork, like a boarding-pike, +now aimed full at the breast of the object. Seeing all his stratagems vain, +Israel now threw himself into the original attitude of the scarecrow, and once +again stood immovable. Abating his pace by degrees almost to a mere creep, the +man at last came within three feet of him, and, pausing, gazed amazed into +Israel’s eyes. With a stern and terrible expression Israel resolutely +returned the glance, but otherwise remained like a statue, hoping thus to stare +his pursuer out of countenance. At last the man slowly presented one prong of +his fork towards Israel’s left eye. Nearer and nearer the sharp point +came, till no longer capable of enduring such a test, Israel took to his heels +with all speed, his tattered coat-tails streaming behind him. With inveterate +purpose the man pursued. Darting blindly on, Israel, leaping a gate, suddenly +found himself in a field where some dozen laborers were at work, who +recognizing the scarecrow—an old acquaintance of theirs, as it would +seem—lifted all their hands as the astounding apparition swept by, +followed by the man with the pitchfork. Soon all joined in the chase, but +Israel proved to have better wind and bottom than any. Outstripping the whole +pack he finally shot out of their sight in an extensive park, heavily timbered +in one quarter. He never saw more of these people. +</p> + +<p> +Loitering in the wood till nightfall, he then stole out and made the best of +his way towards the house of that good natured farmer in whose corn-loft he had +received his first message from Squire Woodcock. Rousing this man up a little +before midnight, he informed him somewhat of his recent adventures, but +carefully concealed his having been employed as a secret courier, together with +his escape from Squire Woodcock’s. All he craved at present was a meal. +The meal being over, Israel offered to buy from the farmer his best suit of +clothes, and displayed the money on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get so much money?” said his entertainer in a tone +of surprise; “your clothes here don’t look as if you had seen +prosperous times since you left me. Why, you look like a scarecrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That may well be,” replied Israel, very soberly. “But what +do you say? will you sell me your suit?—here’s the cash.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about it,” said the farmer, in doubt; +“let me look at the money. Ha!—a silk purse come out of a beggars +pocket!—Quit the house, rascal, you’ve turned thief.” +</p> + +<p> +Thinking that he could not swear to his having come by his money with absolute +honesty—since indeed the case was one for the most subtle +casuist—Israel knew not what to reply. This honest confusion confirmed +the farmer, who with many abusive epithets drove him into the road, telling him +that he might thank himself that he did not arrest him on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +In great dolor at this unhappy repulse, Israel trudged on in the moonlight some +three miles to the house of another friend, who also had once succored him in +extremity. This man proved a very sound sleeper. Instead of succeeding in +rousing him by his knocking, Israel but succeeded in rousing his wife, a person +not of the greatest amiability. Raising the sash, and seeing so shocking a +pauper before her, the woman upbraided him with shameless impropriety in asking +charity at dead of night, in a dress so improper too. Looking down at his +deplorable velveteens, Israel discovered that his extensive travels had +produced a great rent in one loin of the rotten old breeches, through which a +whitish fragment protruded. +</p> + +<p> +Remedying this oversight as well as he might, he again implored the woman to +wake her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“That I shan’t!” said the woman, morosely. “Quit the +premises, or I’ll throw something on ye.” +</p> + +<p> +With that she brought some earthenware to the window, and would have fulfilled +her threat, had not Israel prudently retreated some paces. Here he entreated +the woman to take mercy on his plight, and since she would not waken her +husband, at least throw to him (Israel) her husband’s breeches, and he +would leave the price of them, with his own breeches to boot, on the sill of +the door. +</p> + +<p> +“You behold how sadly I need them,” said he; “for +heaven’s sake befriend me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quit the premises!” reiterated the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“The breeches, the breeches! here is the money,” cried Israel, half +furious with anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Saucy cur,” cried the woman, somehow misunderstanding him; +“do you cunningly taunt me with <i>wearing</i> the breeches’? +begone!” +</p> + +<p> +Once more poor Israel decamped, and made for another friend. But here a +monstrous bull-dog, indignant that the peace of a quiet family should be +disturbed by so outrageous a tatterdemalion, flew at Israel’s unfortunate +coat, whose rotten skirts the brute tore completely off, leaving the coat +razeed to a spencer, which barely came down to the wearer’s waist. In +attempting to drive the monster away, Israel’s hat fell off, upon which +the dog pounced with the utmost fierceness, and thrusting both paws into it, +rammed out the crown and went snuffling the wreck before him. Recovering the +wretched hat, Israel again beat a retreat, his wardrobe sorely the worse for +his visits. Not only was his coat a mere rag, but his breeches, clawed by the +dog, were slashed into yawning gaps, while his yellow hair waved over the top +of the crownless beaver, like a lonely tuft of heather on the highlands. +</p> + +<p> +In this plight the morning discovered him dubiously skirmishing on the +outskirts of a village. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! what a true patriot gets for serving his country!” murmured +Israel. But soon thinking a little better of his case, and seeing yet another +house which had once furnished him with an asylum, he made bold to advance to +the door. Luckily he this time met the man himself, just emerging from bed. At +first the farmer did not recognize the fugitive, but upon another look, +seconded by Israel’s plaintive appeal, beckoned him into the barn, where +directly our adventurer told him all he thought prudent to disclose of his +story, ending by once more offering to negotiate for breeches and coat. Having +ere this emptied and thrown away the purse which had played him so scurvy a +trick with the first farmer, he now produced three crown-pieces. +</p> + +<p> +“Three crown-pieces in your pocket, and no crown to your hat!” said +the farmer. +</p> + +<p> +“But I assure you, my friend,” rejoined Israel, “that a finer +hat was never worn, until that confounded bull-dog ruined it.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” said the farmer, “I forgot that part of your story. +Well, I have a tolerable coat and breeches which I will sell you for your +money.” +</p> + +<p> +In ten minutes more Israel was equipped in a gray coat of coarse cloth, not +much improved by wear, and breeches to match. For half-a-crown more he procured +a highly respectable looking hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my kind friend,” said Israel, “can you tell me where +Horne Tooke and John Bridges live?” +</p> + +<p> +Our adventurer thought it his best plan to seek out one or other of those +gentlemen, both to report proceedings and learn confirmatory tidings concerning +Squire Woodcock, touching whose fate he did not like to inquire of others. +</p> + +<p> +“Horne Tooke? What do you want with Horne Tooke,” said the farmer. +“He was Squire Woodcock’s friend, wasn’t he? The poor Squire! +Who would have thought he’d have gone off so suddenly. But apoplexy comes +like a bullet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was right,” thought Israel to himself. “But where does +Horne Tooke live?” he demanded again. +</p> + +<p> +“He once lived in Brentford, and wore a cassock there. But I hear +he’s sold out his living, and gone in his surplice to study law in +Lunnon.” +</p> + +<p> +This was all news to Israel, who, from various amiable remarks he had heard +from Horne Tooke at the Squire’s, little dreamed he was an ordained +clergyman. Yet a good-natured English clergyman translated Lucian; another, +equally good-natured, wrote Tristam Shandy; and a third, an ill-natured +appreciator of good-natured Rabelais, died a dean; not to speak of others. Thus +ingenious and ingenuous are some of the English clergy. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t tell me, then, where to find Horne Tooke?” said +Israel, in perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find him, I suppose, in Lunnon.” +</p> + +<p> +“What street and number?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know. Needle in a haystack.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does Mr. Bridges live?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never heard of any Bridges, except Lunnon bridges, and one Molly Bridges +in Bridewell.” +</p> + +<p> +So Israel departed; better clothed, but no wiser than before. +</p> + +<p> +What to do next? He reckoned up his money, and concluded he had plenty to carry +him back to Doctor Franklin in Paris. Accordingly, taking a turn to avoid the +two nearest villages, he directed his steps towards London, where, again taking +the post-coach for Dover, he arrived on the channel shore just in time to learn +that the very coach in which he rode brought the news to the authorities there +that all intercourse between the two nations was indefinitely suspended. The +characteristic taciturnity and formal stolidity of his +fellow-travellers—all Englishmen, mutually unacquainted with each other, +and occupying different positions in life—having prevented his sooner +hearing the tidings. +</p> + +<p> +Here was another accumulation of misfortunes. All visions but those of eventual +imprisonment or starvation vanished from before the present realities of poor +Israel Potter. The Brentford gentleman had flattered him with the prospect of +receiving something very handsome for his services as courier. That hope was no +more. Doctor Franklin had promised him his good offices in procuring him a +passage home to America. Quite out of the question now. The sage had likewise +intimated that he might possibly see him some way remunerated for his +sufferings in his country’s cause. An idea no longer to be harbored. Then +Israel recalled the mild man of wisdom’s words—“At the +prospect of pleasure never be elated; but without depression respect the omens +of ill.” But he found it as difficult now to comply, in all respects, +with the last section of the maxim, as before he had with the first. +</p> + +<p> +While standing wrapped in afflictive reflections on the shore, gazing towards +the unattainable coast of France, a pleasant-looking cousinly stranger, in +seamen’s dress, accosted him, and, after some pleasant conversation, very +civilly invited him up a lane into a house of rather secret entertainment. +Pleased to be befriended in this his strait, Israel yet looked inquisitively +upon the man, not completely satisfied with his good intentions. But the other, +with good-humored violence, hurried him up the lane into the inn, when, calling +for some spirits, he and Israel very affectionately drank to each other’s +better health and prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +“Take another glass,” said the stranger, affably. +</p> + +<p> +Israel, to drown his heavy-heartedness, complied. The liquor began to take +effect. +</p> + +<p> +“Ever at sea?” said the stranger, lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; been a whaling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the other, “happy to hear that, I assure you. Jim! +Bill!” And beckoning very quietly to two brawny fellows, in a trice +Israel found himself kidnapped into the naval service of the magnanimous old +gentleman of Kew Gardens—his Royal Majesty, George +III.—“Hands off!” said Israel, fiercely, as the two men +pinioned him. +</p> + +<p> +“Reglar game-cock,” said the cousinly-looking man. “I must +get three guineas for cribbing him. Pleasant voyage to ye, my friend,” +and, leaving Israel a prisoner, the crimp, buttoning his coat, sauntered +leisurely out of the inn. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m no Englishman,” roared Israel, in a foam. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that’s the old story,” grinned his jailers. “Come +along. There’s no Englishman in the English fleet. All foreigners. You +may take their own word for it.” +</p> + +<p> +To be short, in less than a week Israel found himself at Portsmouth, and, ere +long, a foretopman in his Majesty’s ship of the line, +“Unprincipled,” scudding before the wind down channel, in company +with the “Undaunted,” and the “Unconquerable;” all +three haughty Dons bound to the East Indian waters as reinforcements to the +fleet of Sir Edward Hughs. +</p> + +<p> +And now, we might shortly have to record our adventurer’s part in the +famous engagement off the coast of Coromandel, between Admiral Suffrien’s +fleet and the English squadron, were it not that fate snatched him on the +threshold of events, and, turning him short round whither he had come, sent him +back congenially to war against England; instead of on her behalf. Thus +repeatedly and rapidly were the fortunes of our wanderer planted, torn up, +transplanted, and dropped again, hither and thither, according as the Supreme +Disposer of sailors and soldiers saw fit to appoint. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +IN WHICH ISRAEL IS SAILOR UNDER TWO FLAGS, AND IN THREE SHIPS, AND ALL IN ONE NIGHT.</h2> + +<p> +As running down channel at evening, Israel walked the crowded main-deck of the +seventy-four, continually brushed by a thousand hurrying wayfarers, as if he +were in some great street in London, jammed with artisans, just returning from +their day’s labor, novel and painful emotions were his. He found himself +dropped into the naval mob without one friend; nay, among enemies, since his +country’s enemies were his own, and against the kith and kin of these +very beings around him, he himself had once lifted a fatal hand. The martial +bustle of a great man-of-war, on her first day out of port, was indescribably +jarring to his present mood. Those sounds of the human multitude disturbing the +solemn natural solitudes of the sea, mysteriously afflicted him. He murmured +against that untowardness which, after condemning him to long sorrows on the +land, now pursued him with added griefs on the deep. Why should a patriot, +leaping for the chance again to attack the oppressor, as at Bunker Hill, now be +kidnapped to fight that oppressor’s battles on the endless drifts of the +Bunker Hills of the billows? But like many other repiners, Israel was perhaps a +little premature with upbraidings like these. +</p> + +<p> +Plying on between Scilly and Cape Clear, the Unprincipled—which vessel +somewhat outsailed her consorts—fell in, just before dusk, with a large +revenue cutter close to, and showing signals of distress. At the moment, no +other sail was in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Cursing the necessity of pausing with a strong fair wind at a juncture like +this, the officer-of-the-deck shortened sail, and hove to; hailing the cutter, +to know what was the matter. As he hailed the small craft from the lofty poop +of the bristling seventy-four, this lieutenant seemed standing on the top of +Gibraltar, talking to some lowland peasant in a hut. The reply was, that in a +sudden flaw of wind, which came nigh capsizing them, not an hour since, the +cutter had lost all four foremost men by the violent jibing of a boom. She +wanted help to get back to port. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have one man,” said the officer-of-the-deck, morosely. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him be a good one then, for heaven’s sake,” said he in +the cutter; “I ought to have at least two.” +</p> + +<p> +During this talk, Israel’s curiosity had prompted him to dart up the +ladder from the main-deck, and stand right in the gangway above, looking out on +the strange craft. Meantime the order had been given to drop a boat. Thinking +this a favorable chance, he stationed himself so that he should be the foremost +to spring into the boat; though crowds of English sailors, eager as himself for +the same opportunity to escape from foreign service, clung to the chains of the +as yet imperfectly disciplined man-of-war. As the two men who had been lowered +in the boat hooked her, when afloat, along to the gangway, Israel dropped like +a comet into the stern-sheets, stumbled forward, and seized an oar. In a moment +more, all the oarsmen were in their places, and with a few strokes the boat lay +alongside the cutter. +</p> + +<p> +“Take which of them you please,” said the lieutenant in command, +addressing the officer in the revenue-cutter, and motioning with his hand to +his boat’s crew, as if they were a parcel of carcasses of mutton, of +which the first pick was offered to some customer. “Quick and choose. Sit +down, men”—to the sailors. “Oh, you are in a great hurry to +get rid of the king’s service, ain’t you? Brave chaps +indeed!—Have you chosen your man?” +</p> + +<p> +All this while the ten faces of the anxious oarsmen looked with mute longings +and appealings towards the officer of the cutter; every face turned at the same +angle, as if managed by one machine. And so they were. One motive. +</p> + +<p> +“I take the freckled chap with the yellow hair—him,” pointing +to Israel. +</p> + +<p> +Nine of the upturned faces fell in sullen despair, and ere Israel could spring +to his feet, he felt a violent thrust in his rear from the toes of one of the +disappointed behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Jump, dobbin!” cried the officer of the boat. +</p> + +<p> +But Israel was already on board. Another moment, and the boat and cutter +parted. Ere long, night fell, and the man-of-war and her consorts were out of +sight. +</p> + +<p> +The revenue vessel resumed her course towards the nighest port, worked by but +four men: the captain, Israel, and two officers. The cabin-boy was kept at the +helm. As the only foremast man, Israel was put to it pretty hard. Where there +is but one man to three masters, woe betide that lonely slave. Besides, it was +of itself severe work enough to manage the vessel thus short of hands. But to +make matters still worse, the captain and his officers were ugly-tempered +fellows. The one kicked, and the others cuffed Israel. Whereupon, not sugared +with his recent experiences, and maddened by his present hap, Israel seeing +himself alone at sea, with only three men, instead of a thousand, to contend +against, plucked up a heart, knocked the captain into the lee scuppers, and in +his fury was about tumbling the first-officer, a small wash of a fellow, plump +overboard, when the captain, jumping to his feet, seized him by his long yellow +hair, vowing he would slaughter him. Meanwhile the cutter flew foaming through +the channel, as if in demoniac glee at this uproar on her imperilled deck. +While the consternation was at its height, a dark body suddenly loomed at a +moderate distance into view, shooting right athwart the stern of the cutter. +The next moment a shot struck the water within a boat’s length. +</p> + +<p> +“Heave to, and send a boat on board!” roared a voice almost as loud +as the cannon. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a war-ship,” cried the captain of the revenue vessel, +in alarm; “but she ain’t a countryman.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the officers and Israel stopped the cutter’s way. +</p> + +<p> +“Send a boat on board, or I’ll sink you,” again came roaring +from the stranger, followed by another shot, striking the water still nearer +the cutter. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, don’t cannonade us. I haven’t got the +crew to man a boat,” replied the captain of the cutter. “Who are +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till I send a boat to you for that,” replied the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s an enemy of some sort, that’s plain,” said the +Englishman now to his officers; “we ain’t at open war with France; +she’s some bloodthirsty pirate or other. What d’ye say, men?” +turning to his officers; “let’s outsail her, or be shot to chips. +We can beat her at sailing, I know.” +</p> + +<p> +With that, nothing doubting that his counsel would be heartily responded to, he +ran to the braces to get the cutter before the wind, followed by one officer, +while the other, for a useless bravado, hoisted the colors at the stern. +</p> + +<p> +But Israel stood indifferent, or rather all in a fever of conflicting emotions. +He thought he recognized the voice from the strange vessel. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, what do ye standing there, fool? Spring to the ropes here!” +cried the furious captain. +</p> + +<p> +But Israel did not stir. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the confusion on board the stranger, owing to the hurried lowering of +her boat, with the cloudiness of the sky darkening the misty sea, united to +conceal the bold manoeuvre of the cutter. She had almost gained full headway +ere an oblique shot, directed by mere chance, struck her stern, tearing the +upcurved head of the tiller in the hands of the cabin-boy, and killing him with +the splinters. Running to the stump, the captain huzzaed, and steered the +reeling ship on. Forced now to hoist back the boat ere giving chase, the +stranger was dropped rapidly astern. +</p> + +<p> +All this while storms of maledictions were hurled on Israel. But their +exertions at the ropes prevented his shipmates for the time from using personal +violence. While observing their efforts, Israel could not but say to himself, +“These fellows are as brave as they are brutal.” +</p> + +<p> +Soon the stranger was seen dimly wallowing along astern, crowding all sail in +chase, while now and then her bow-gun, showing its red tongue, bellowed after +them like a mad bull. Two more shots struck the cutter, but without materially +damaging her sails, or the ropes immediately upholding them. Several of her +less important stays were sundered, however, whose loose tarry ends lashed the +air like scorpions. It seemed not improbable that, owing to her superior +sailing, the keen cutter would yet get clear. +</p> + +<p> +At this juncture Israel, running towards the captain, who still held the +splintered stump of the tiller, stood full before him, saying, “I am an +enemy, a Yankee, look to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Help here, lads, help,” roared the captain, “a traitor, a +traitor!” +</p> + +<p> +The words were hardly out of his mouth when his voice was silenced for ever. +With one prodigious heave of his whole physical force, Israel smote him over +the taffrail into the sea, as if the man had fallen backwards over a teetering +chair. By this time the two officers were hurrying aft. Ere meeting them +midway, Israel, quick as lightning, cast off the two principal halyards, thus +letting the large sails all in a tumble of canvass to the deck. Next moment one +of the officers was at the helm, to prevent the cutter from capsizing by being +without a steersman in such an emergency. The other officer and Israel +interlocked. The battle was in the midst of the chaos of blowing canvass. +Caught in a rent of the sail, the officer slipped and fell near the sharp iron +edge of the hatchway. As he fell he caught Israel by the most terrible part in +which mortality can be grappled. Insane with pain, Israel dashed his +adversary’s skull against the sharp iron. The officer’s hold +relaxed, but himself stiffened. Israel made for the helmsman, who as yet knew +not the issue of the late tussle. He caught him round the loins, bedding his +fingers like grisly claws into his flesh, and hugging him to his heart. The +man’s ghost, caught like a broken cork in a gurgling bottle’s neck, +gasped with the embrace. Loosening him suddenly, Israel hurled him from him +against the bulwarks. That instant another report was heard, followed by the +savage hail—“You down sail at last, do ye? I’m a good mind to +sink ye for your scurvy trick. Pull down that dirty rag there, astern!” +</p> + +<p> +With a loud huzza, Israel hauled down the flag with one hand, while with the +other he helped the now slowly gliding craft from falling off before the wind. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments a boat was alongside. As its commander stepped to the deck he +stumbled against the body of the first officer, which, owing to the sudden +slant of the cutter in coming to the wind, had rolled against the side near the +gangway. As he came aft he heard the moan of the other officer, where he lay +under the mizzen shrouds. +</p> + +<p> +“What is all this?” demanded the stranger of Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“It means that I am a Yankee impressed into the king’s service, and +for their pains I have taken the cutter.” +</p> + +<p> +Giving vent to his surprise, the officer looked narrowly at the body by the +shrouds, and said, “This man is as good as dead, but we will take him to +Captain Paul as a witness in your behalf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul?—Paul Jones?” cried Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“The same.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so. I thought that was his voice hailing. It was Captain +Paul’s voice that somehow put me up to this deed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul is the devil for putting men up to be tigers. But where are +the rest of the crew?” +</p> + +<p> +“Overboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” cried the officer; “come on board the Ranger. Captain +Paul will use you for a broadside.” +</p> + +<p> +Taking the moaning man along with them, and leaving the cutter untenanted by +any living soul, the boat now left her for the enemy’s ship. But ere they +reached it the man had expired. +</p> + +<p> +Standing foremost on the deck, crowded with three hundred men, as Israel +climbed the side, he saw, by the light of battle-lanterns, a small, smart, +brigandish-looking man, wearing a Scotch bonnet, with a gold band to it. +</p> + +<p> +“You rascal,” said this person, “why did your paltry smack +give me this chase? Where’s the rest of your gang?” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul,” said Israel, “I believe I remember you. I +believe I offered you my bed in Paris some months ago. How is Poor +Richard?” +</p> + +<p> +“God! Is this the courier? The Yankee courier? But how now? in an English +revenue cutter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Impressed, sir; that’s the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where’s the rest of them?” demanded Paul, turning to the +officer. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the officer very briefly told Paul what Israel told him. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we to sink the cutter, sir?” said the gunner, now advancing +towards Captain Paul. “If it is to be done, now is the time. She is close +under us, astern; a few guns pointed downwards will settle her like a shotted +corpse.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Let her drift into Penzance, an anonymous earnest of what the +whitesquall in Paul Jones intends for the future.” +</p> + +<p> +Then giving directions as to the course of the ship, with an order for himself +to be called at the first glimpse of a sail, Paul took Israel down with him +into his cabin. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me your story now, my yellow lion. How was it all? Don’t +stand, sit right down there on the transom. I’m a democratic sort of +sea-king. Plump on the woolsack, I say, and spin the yarn. But hold; you want +some grog first.” +</p> + +<p> +As Paul handed the flagon, Israel’s eye fell upon his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t wear any rings now, Captain, I see. Left them in Paris +for safety.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, with a certain marchioness there,” replied Paul, with a +dandyish look of sentimental conceit, which sat strangely enough on his +otherwise grim and Fejee air. +</p> + +<p> +“I should think rings would be somewhat inconvenient at sea,” +resumed Israel. “On my first voyage to the West Indies, I wore a +girl’s ring on my middle finger here, and it wasn’t long before, +what with hauling wet ropes, and what not, it got a kind of grown down into the +flesh, and pained me very bad, let me tell you, it hugged the finger so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did the girl grow as close to your heart, lad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Captain, girls grow themselves off quicker than we grow them +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some experience with the countesses as well as myself, eh? But the +story; wave your yellow mane, my lion—the story.” +</p> + +<p> +So Israel went on and told the story in all particulars. +</p> + +<p> +At its conclusion Captain Paul eyed him very earnestly. His wild, lonely heart, +incapable of sympathizing with cuddled natures made humdrum by long exemption +from pain, was yet drawn towards a being, who in desperation of friendlessness, +something like his own, had so fiercely waged battle against tyrannical odds. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you go to sea young, lad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, pretty young.” +</p> + +<p> +“I went at twelve, from Whitehaven. Only so high,” raising his hand +some four feet from the deck. “I was so small, and looked so queer in my +little blue jacket, that they called me the monkey. They’ll call me +something else before long. Did you ever sail out of Whitehaven?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Captain.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you had, you’d have heard sad stories about me. To this hour +they say there that I—bloodthirsty, coward dog that I am—flogged a +sailor, one Mungo Maxwell, to death. It’s a lie, by Heaven! I flogged +him, for he was a mutinous scamp. But he died naturally, some time afterwards, +and on board another ship. But why talk? They didn’t believe the +affidavits of others taken before London courts, triumphantly acquitting me; +how then will they credit <i>my</i> interested words? If slander, however much +a lie, once gets hold of a man, it will stick closer than fair fame, as black +pitch sticks closer than white cream. But let ’em slander. I will give +the slanderers matter for curses. When last I left Whitehaven, I swore never +again to set foot on her pier, except, like Caesar, at Sandwich, as a foreign +invader. Spring under me, good ship; on you I bound to my vengeance!” +</p> + +<p> +Men with poignant feelings, buried under an air of care-free self command, are +never proof to the sudden incitements of passion. Though in the main they may +control themselves, yet if they but once permit the smallest vent, then they +may bid adieu to all self-restraint, at least for that time. Thus with Paul on +the present occasion. His sympathy with Israel had prompted this momentary +ebullition. When it was gone by, he seemed not a little to regret it. But he +passed it over lightly, saying, “You see, my fine fellow, what sort of a +bloody cannibal I am. Will you be a sailor of mine? A sailor of the Captain who +flogged poor Mungo Maxwell to death?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be very happy, Captain Paul, to be sailor under the man who will +yet, I dare say, help flog the British nation to death.” +</p> + +<p> +“You hate ’em, do ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Like snakes. For months they’ve hunted me as a dog,” half +howled and half wailed Israel, at the memory of all he had suffered. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your hand, my lion; wave your wild flax again. By Heaven, you +hate so well, I love ye. You shall be my confidential man; stand sentry at my +cabin door; sleep in the cabin; steer my boat; keep by my side whenever I land. +What do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say I’m glad to hear you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a good, brave soul. You are the first among the millions of +mankind that I ever naturally took to. Come, you are tired. There, go into that +state-room for to-night—it’s mine. You offered me your bed in +Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you begged off, Captain, and so must I. Where do you sleep?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lad, I don’t sleep half a night out of three. My clothes have not +been off now for five days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Captain, you sleep so little and scheme so much, you will die +young.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it: I want to: I mean to. Who would live a doddered old stump? +What do you think of my Scotch bonnet?” +</p> + +<p> +“It looks well on you, Captain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so? A Scotch bonnet, though, ought to look well on a +Scotchman. I’m such by birth. Is the gold band too much?” +</p> + +<p> +“I like the gold band, Captain. It looks something as I should think a +crown might on a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye?” +</p> + +<p> +“You would make a better-looking king than George III.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever see that old granny? Waddles about in farthingales, and +carries a peacock fan, don’t he? Did you ever see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Was as close to him as I am to you now, Captain. In Kew Gardens it was, +where I worked gravelling the walks. I was all alone with him, talking for some +ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, what a chance! Had I but been there! What an opportunity for +kidnapping a British king, and carrying him off in a fast sailing smack to +Boston, a hostage for American freedom. But what did you? Didn’t you try +to do something to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had a wicked thought or two, Captain, but I got the better of it. +Besides, the king behaved handsomely towards me; yes, like a true man. God +bless him for it. But it was before that, that I got the better of the wicked +thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, meant to stick him, I suppose. Glad you didn’t. It would have +been very shabby. Never kill a king, but make him captive. He looks better as a +led horse, than a dead carcass. I propose now, this trip, falling on the +grounds of the Earl of Selkirk, a privy counsellor and particular private +friend of George III. But I won’t hurt a hair of his head. When I get him +on board here, he shall lodge in my best state-room, which I mean to hang with +damask for him. I shall drink wine with him, and be very friendly; take him to +America, and introduce his lordship into the best circles there; only I shall +have him accompanied on his calls by a sentry or two disguised as valets. For +the Earl’s to be on sale, mind; so much ransom; that is, the nobleman, +Lord Selkirk, shall have a bodily price pinned on his coat-tail, like any slave +up at auction in Charleston. But, my lad with the yellow mane, you very +strangely draw out my secrets. And yet you don’t talk. Your honesty is a +magnet which attracts my sincerity. But I rely on your fidelity.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be a vice to your plans, Captain Paul. I will receive, but I +won’t let go, unless you alone loose the screw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well said. To bed now; you ought to. I go on deck. Good night, +ace-of-hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is fitter for yourself, Captain Paul, lonely leader of the +suit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lonely? Aye, but number one cannot but be lonely, my trump.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again I give it back. Ace-of-trumps may it prove to you, Captain Paul; +may it be impossible for you ever to be taken. But for me—poor deuce, a +trey, that comes in your wake—any king or knave may take me, as before +now the knaves have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, lad; never be more cheery for another than for yourself. But a +fagged body fags the soul. To hammock, to hammock! while I go on deck to clap +on more sail to your cradle.” +</p> + +<p> +And they separated for that night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER XV.<br/> +THEY SAIL AS FAR AS THE CRAG OF AILSA.</h2> + +<p> +Next morning Israel was appointed quartermaster—a subaltern selected from +the common seamen, and whose duty mostly stations him in the stern of the ship, +where the captain walks. His business is to carry the glass on the look-out for +sails; hoist or lower the colors; and keep an eye on the helmsman. Picked out +from the crew for their superior respectability and intelligence, as well as +for their excellent seamanship, it is not unusual to find the quartermasters of +an armed ship on peculiarly easy terms with the commissioned officers and +captain. This birth, therefore, placed Israel in official contiguity to Paul, +and without subjecting either to animadversion, made their public intercourse +on deck almost as familiar as their unrestrained converse in the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fine cool day in the beginning of April. They were now off the coast +of Wales, whose lofty mountains, crested with snow, presented a Norwegian +aspect. The wind was fair, and blew with a strange, bestirring power. The +ship—running between Ireland and England, northwards, towards the Irish +Sea, the inmost heart of the British waters—seemed, as she snortingly +shook the spray from her bow, to be conscious of the dare-devil defiance of the +soul which conducted her on this anomalous cruise. Sailing alone from out a +naval port of France, crowded with ships-of-the-line, Paul Jones, in his small +craft, went forth in single-armed championship against the English host. Armed +with but the sling-stones in his one shot-locker, like young David of old, Paul +bearded the British giant of Gath. It is not easy, at the present day, to +conceive the hardihood of this enterprise. It was a marching up to the muzzle; +the act of one who made no compromise with the cannonadings of danger or death; +such a scheme as only could have inspired a heart which held at nothing all the +prescribed prudence of war, and every obligation of peace; combining in one +breast the vengeful indignation and bitter ambition of an outraged hero, with +the uncompunctuous desperation of a renegade. In one view, the Coriolanus of +the sea; in another, a cross between the gentleman and the wolf. +</p> + +<p> +As Paul stood on the elevated part of the quarter-deck, with none but his +confidential quartermaster near him, he yielded to Israel’s natural +curiosity to learn something concerning the sailing of the expedition. Paul +stood lightly, swaying his body over the sea, by holding on to the +mizzen-shrouds, an attitude not inexpressive of his easy audacity; while near +by, pacing a few steps to and fro, his long spy-glass now under his arm, and +now presented at his eye, Israel, looking the very image of vigilant prudence, +listened to the warrior’s story. It appeared that on the night of the +visit of the Duke de Chartres and Count D’Estaing to Doctor Franklin in +Paris—the same night that Captain Paul and Israel were joint occupants of +the neighboring chamber—the final sanction of the French king to the +sailing of an American armament against England, under the direction of the +Colonial Commissioner, was made known to the latter functionary. It was a very +ticklish affair. Though swaying on the brink of avowed hostilities with +England, no verbal declaration had as yet been made by France. Undoubtedly, +this enigmatic position of things was highly advantageous to such an enterprise +as Paul’s. +</p> + +<p> +Without detailing all the steps taken through the united efforts of Captain +Paul and Doctor Franklin, suffice it that the determined rover had now attained +his wish—the unfettered command of an armed ship in the British waters; a +ship legitimately authorized to hoist the American colors, her commander having +in his cabin-locker a regular commission as an officer of the American navy. He +sailed without any instructions. With that rare insight into rare natures which +so largely distinguished the sagacious Franklin, the sage well knew that a +prowling <i>brave</i>, like Paul Jones, was, like the prowling lion, by nature +a solitary warrior. “Let him alone,” was the wise man’s +answer to some statesman who sought to hamper Paul with a letter of +instructions. +</p> + +<p> +Much subtile casuistry has been expended upon the point, whether Paul Jones was +a knave or a hero, or a union of both. But war and warriors, like politics and +politicians, like religion and religionists, admit of no metaphysics. +</p> + +<p> +On the second day after Israel’s arrival on board the Ranger, as he and +Paul were conversing on the deck, Israel suddenly levelling his glass towards +the Irish coast, announced a large sail bound in. The Ranger gave chase, and +soon, almost within sight of her destination—the port of Dublin—the +stranger was taken, manned, and turned round for Brest. +</p> + +<p> +The Ranger then stood over, passed the Isle of Man towards the Cumberland +shore, arriving within remote sight of Whitehaven about sunset. At dark she was +hovering off the harbor, with a party of volunteers all ready to descend. But +the wind shifted and blew fresh with a violent sea. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t call on old friends in foul weather,” said Captain +Paul to Israel. “We’ll saunter about a little, and leave our cards +in a day or two.” +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, in Glentinebay, on the south shore of Scotland, they fell in with +a revenue wherry. It was the practice of such craft to board merchant vessels. +The Ranger was disguised as a merchantman, presenting a broad drab-colored belt +all round her hull; under the coat of a Quaker, concealing the intent of a +Turk. It was expected that the chartered rover would come alongside the +unchartered one. But the former took to flight, her two lug sails staggering +under a heavy wind, which the pursuing guns of the Ranger pelted with a +hail-storm of shot. The wherry escaped, spite the severe cannonade. +</p> + +<p> +Off the Mull of Galoway, the day following, Paul found himself so nigh a large +barley-freighted Scotch coaster, that, to prevent her carrying tidings of him +to land, he dispatched her with the news, stern foremost, to Hades; sinking +her, and sowing her barley in the sea broadcast by a broadside. From her crew +he learned that there was a fleet of twenty or thirty sail at anchor in +Lochryan, with an armed brigantine. He pointed his prow thither; but at the +mouth of the lock, the wind turned against him again in hard squalls. He +abandoned the project. Shortly after, he encountered a sloop from Dublin. He +sunk her to prevent intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, seeming as much to bear the elemental commission of Nature, as the +military warrant of Congress, swarthy Paul darted hither and thither; hovering +like a thundercloud off the crowded harbors; then, beaten off by an adverse +wind, discharging his lightnings on uncompanioned vessels, whose solitude made +them a more conspicuous and easier mark, like lonely trees on the heath. Yet +all this while the land was full of garrisons, the embayed waters full of +fleets. With the impunity of a Levanter, Paul skimmed his craft in the +land-locked heart of the supreme naval power of earth; a torpedo-eel, +unknowingly swallowed by Britain in a draught of old ocean, and making sad +havoc with her vitals. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing next a large vessel steering for the Clyde, he gave chase, hoping to cut +her off. The stranger proving a fast sailer, the pursuit was urged on with +vehemence, Paul standing, plank-proud, on the quarter-deck, calling for pulls +upon every rope, to stretch each already half-burst sail to the uttermost. +</p> + +<p> +While thus engaged, suddenly a shadow, like that thrown by an eclipse, was seen +rapidly gaining along the deck, with a sharp defined line, plain as a seam of +the planks. It involved all before it. It was the domineering shadow of the +Juan Fernandez-like crag of Ailsa. The Ranger was in the deep water which makes +all round and close up to this great summit of the submarine Grampians. +</p> + +<p> +The crag, more than a mile in circuit, is over a thousand feet high, eight +miles from the Ayrshire shore. There stands the cove, lonely as a foundling, +proud as Cheops. But, like the battered brains surmounting the Giant of Gath, +its haughty summit is crowned by a desolate castle, in and out of whose arches +the aerial mists eddy like purposeless phantoms, thronging the soul of some +ruinous genius, who, even in overthrow, harbors none but lofty conceptions. +</p> + +<p> +As the Ranger shot higher under the crag, its height and bulk dwarfed both +pursuer and pursued into nutshells. The main-truck of the Ranger was nine +hundred feet below the foundations of the ruin on the crag’s top: +</p> + +<p> +While the ship was yet under the shadow, and each seaman’s face shared in +the general eclipse, a sudden change came over Paul. He issued no more +sultanical orders. He did not look so elate as before. At length he gave the +command to discontinue the chase. Turning about, they sailed southward. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul,” said Israel, shortly afterwards, “you changed +your mind rather queerly about catching that craft. But you thought she was +drawing us too far up into the land, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sink the craft,” cried Paul; “it was not any fear of her, +nor of King George, which made me turn on my heel; it was yon cock of the +walk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cock of the walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, cock of the walk of the sea; look—yon Crag of Ailsa.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS, AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN.</h2> + +<p> +Next day, off Carrickfergus, on the Irish coast, a fishing boat, allured by the +Quaker-like look of the incognito craft, came off in full confidence. Her men +were seized, their vessel sunk. From them Paul learned that the large ship at +anchor in the road, was the ship-of-war Drake, of twenty guns. Upon this he +steered away, resolving to return secretly, and attack her that night. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Captain Paul,” said Israel to his commander, as about +sunset they backed and stood in again for the land “surely, sir, you are +not going right in among them this way? Why not wait till she comes out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Yellow-hair, my boy, I am engaged to marry her to-night. The +bride’s friends won’t like the match; and so, this very night, the +bride must be carried away. She has a nice tapering waist, hasn’t she, +through the glass? Ah! I will clasp her to my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +He steered straight in like a friend; under easy sail, lounging towards the +Drake, with anchor ready to drop, and grapnels to hug. But the wind was high; +the anchor was not dropped at the ordered time. The ranger came to a stand +three biscuits’ toss off the unmisgiving enemy’s quarter, like a +peaceful merchantman from the Canadas, laden with harmless lumber. +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t marry her just yet,” whispered Paul, seeing his +plans for the time frustrated. Gazing in audacious tranquillity upon the decks +of the enemy, and amicably answering her hail, with complete self-possession, +he commanded the cable to be slipped, and then, as if he had accidentally +parted his anchor, turned his prow on the seaward tack, meaning to return again +immediately with the same prospect of advantage possessed at first—his +plan being to crash suddenly athwart the Drake’s bow, so as to have all +her decks exposed point-blank to his musketry. But once more the winds +interposed. It came on with a storm of snow; he was obliged to give up his +project. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, without any warlike appearance, and giving no alarm, Paul, like an +invisible ghost, glided by night close to land, actually came to anchor, for an +instant, within speaking-distance of an English ship-of-war; and yet came, +anchored, answered hail, reconnoitered, debated, decided, and retired, without +exciting the least suspicion. His purpose was chain-shot destruction. So easily +may the deadliest foe—so he be but dexterous—slide, undreamed of, +into human harbors or hearts. And not awakened conscience, but mere prudence, +restrain such, if they vanish again without doing harm. At daybreak no soul in +Carrickfergus knew that the devil, in a Scotch bonnet, had passed close that +way over night. +</p> + +<p> +Seldom has regicidal daring been more strangely coupled with octogenarian +prudence, than in many of the predatory enterprises of Paul. It is this +combination of apparent incompatibilities which ranks him among extraordinary +warriors. +</p> + +<p> +Ere daylight, the storm of the night blew over. The sun saw the Ranger lying +midway over channel at the head of the Irish Sea; England, Scotland, and +Ireland, with all their lofty cliffs, being as simultaneously as plainly in +sight beyond the grass-green waters, as the City Hall, St. Paul’s, and +the Astor House, from the triangular Park in New York. The three kingdoms lay +covered with snow, far as the eye could reach. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Yellow-hair,” said Paul, with a smile, “they show the +white flag, the cravens. And, while the white flag stays blanketing yonder +heights, we’ll make for Whitehaven, my boy. I promised to drop in there a +moment ere quitting the country for good. Israel, lad, I mean to step ashore in +person, and have a personal hand in the thing. Did you ever drive +spikes?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve driven the spike-teeth into harrows before now,” +replied Israel; “but that was before I was a sailor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, driving spikes into harrows is a good introduction to +driving spikes into cannon. You are just the man. Put down your glass; go to +the carpenter, get a hundred spikes, put them in a bucket with a hammer, and +bring all to me.” +</p> + +<p> +As evening fell, the great promontory of St. Bee’s Head, with its +lighthouse, not far from Whitehaven, was in distant sight. But the wind became +so light that Paul could not work his ship in close enough at an hour as early +as intended. His purpose had been to make the descent and retire ere break of +day. But though this intention was frustrated, he did not renounce his plan, +for the present would be his last opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +As the night wore on, and the ship, with a very light wind, glided nigher and +nigher the mark, Paul called upon Israel to produce his bucket for final +inspection. Thinking some of the spikes too large, he had them filed down a +little. He saw to the lanterns and combustibles. Like Peter the Great, he went +into the smallest details, while still possessing a genius competent to plan +the aggregate. But oversee as one may, it is impossible to guard against +carelessness in subordinates. One’s sharp eyes can’t see behind +one’s back. It will yet be noted that an important omission was made in +the preparations for Whitehaven. +</p> + +<p> +The town contained, at that period, a population of some six or seven thousand +inhabitants, defended by forts. +</p> + +<p> +At midnight, Paul Jones, Israel Potter, and twenty-nine others, rowed in two +boats to attack the six or seven thousand inhabitants of Whitehaven. There was +a long way to pull. This was done in perfect silence. Not a sound was heard +except the oars turning in the row-locks. Nothing was seen except the two +lighthouses of the harbor. Through the stillness and the darkness, the two +deep-laden boats swam into the haven, like two mysterious whales from the +Arctic Sea. As they reached the outer pier, the men saw each other’s +faces. The day was dawning. The riggers and other artisans of the shipping +would before very long be astir. No matter. +</p> + +<p> +The great staple exported from Whitehaven was then, and still is, coal. The +town is surrounded by mines; the town is built on mines; the ships moor over +mines. The mines honeycomb the land in all directions, and extend in galleries +of grottoes for two miles under the sea. By the falling in of the more ancient +collieries numerous houses have been swallowed, as if by an earthquake, and a +consternation spread, like that of Lisbon, in 1755. So insecure and treacherous +was the site of the place now about to be assailed by a desperado, nursed, like +the coal, in its vitals. +</p> + +<p> +Now, sailing on the Thames, nigh its mouth, of fair days, when the wind is +favorable for inward-bound craft, the stranger will sometimes see processions +of vessels, all of similar size and rig, stretching for miles and miles, like a +long string of horses tied two and two to a rope and driven to market. These +are colliers going to London with coal. +</p> + +<p> +About three hundred of these vessels now lay, all crowded together, in one +dense mob, at Whitehaven. The tide was out. They lay completely helpless, clear +of water, and grounded. They were sooty in hue. Their black yards were deeply +canted, like spears, to avoid collision. The three hundred grimy hulls lay +wallowing in the mud, like a herd of hippopotami asleep in the alluvium of the +Nile. Their sailless, raking masts, and canted yards, resembled a forest of +fish-spears thrust into those same hippopotamus hides. Partly flanking one side +of the grounded fleet was a fort, whose batteries were raised from the beach. +On a little strip of this beach, at the base of the fort, lay a number of small +rusty guns, dismounted, heaped together in disorder, as a litter of dogs. Above +them projected the mounted cannon. +</p> + +<p> +Paul landed in his own boat at the foot of this fort. He dispatched the other +boat to the north side of the haven, with orders to fire the shipping there. +Leaving two men at the beach, he then proceeded to get possession of the fort. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on to the bucket, and give me your shoulder,” said he to +Israel. +</p> + +<p> +Using Israel for a ladder, in a trice he scaled the wall. The bucket and the +men followed. He led the way softly to the guard-house, burst in, and bound the +sentinels in their sleep. Then arranging his force, ordered four men to spike +the cannon there. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Israel, your bucket, and follow me to the other fort.” +</p> + +<p> +The two went alone about a quarter of a mile. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul,” said Israel, on the way, “can we two manage +the sentinels?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are none in the fort we go to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know all about the place, Captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty well informed on that subject, I believe. Come along. Yes, lad, I +am tolerably well acquainted with Whitehaven. And this morning intend that +Whitehaven shall have a slight inkling of <i>me</i>. Come on. Here we +are.” +</p> + +<p> +Scaling the walls, the two involuntarily stood for an instant gazing upon the +scene. The gray light of the dawn showed the crowded houses and thronged ships +with a haggard distinctness. +</p> + +<p> +“Spike and hammer, lad;—so,—now follow me along, as I go, and +give me a spike for every cannon. I’ll tongue-tie the thunderers. Speak +no more!” and he spiked the first gun. “Be a mute,” and he +spiked the second. “Dumbfounder thee,” and he spiked the third. And +so, on, and on, and on, Israel following him with the bucket, like a footman, +or some charitable gentleman with a basket of alms. +</p> + +<p> +“There, it is done. D’ye see the fire yet, lad, from the south? I +don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a spark, Captain. But day-sparks come on in the east.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forked flames into the hounds! What are they about? Quick, let us back +to the first fort; perhaps something has happened, and they are there.” +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough, on their return from spiking the cannon, Paul and Israel found the +other boat back, the crew in confusion, their lantern having burnt out at the +very instant they wanted it. By a singular fatality the other lantern, +belonging to Paul’s boat, was likewise extinguished. No tinder-box had +been brought. They had no matches but sulphur matches. Locofocos were not then +known. +</p> + +<p> +The day came on apace. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul,” said the lieutenant of the second boat, “it +is madness to stay longer. See!” and he pointed to the town, now plainly +discernible in the gray light. +</p> + +<p> +“Traitor, or coward!” howled Paul, “how came the lanterns +out? Israel, my lion, now prove your blood. Get me a light—but one +spark!” +</p> + +<p> +“Has any man here a bit of pipe and tobacco in his pocket?” said +Israel. +</p> + +<p> +A sailor quickly produced an old stump of a pipe, with tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” and Israel hurried away towards the town. +</p> + +<p> +“What will the loon do with the pipe?” said one. “And where +goes he?” cried another. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him alone,” said Paul. +</p> + +<p> +The invader now disposed his whole force so as to retreat at an instant’s +warning. Meantime the hardy Israel, long experienced in all sorts of shifts and +emergencies, boldly ventured to procure, from some inhabitant of Whitehaven, a +spark to kindle all Whitehaven’s habitations in flames. +</p> + +<p> +There was a lonely house standing somewhat disjointed from the town, some poor +laborer’s abode. Rapping at the door, Israel, pipe in mouth, begged the +inmates for a light for his tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil,” roared a voice from within, “knock up a man +this time of night to light your pipe? Begone!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are lazy this morning, my friend,” replied Israel, “it +is daylight. Quick, give me a light. Don’t you know your old friend? +Shame! open the door.” +</p> + +<p> +In a moment a sleepy fellow appeared, let down the bar, and Israel, stalking +into the dim room, piloted himself straight to the fire-place, raked away the +cinders, lighted his tobacco, and vanished. +</p> + +<p> +All was done in a flash. The man, stupid with sleep, had looked on bewildered. +He reeled to the door, but, dodging behind a pile of bricks, Israel had already +hurried himself out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, my lion,” was the hail he received from Paul, who, +during his absence, had mustered as many pipes as possible, in order to +communicate and multiply the fire. +</p> + +<p> +Both boats now pulled to a favorable point of the principal pier of the harbor, +crowded close up to a part of which lay one wing of the colliers. +</p> + +<p> +The men began to murmur at persisting in an attempt impossible to be concealed +much longer. They were afraid to venture on board the grim colliers, and go +groping down into their hulls to fire them. It seemed like a voluntary entrance +into dungeons and death. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me, all of you but ten by the boats,” said Paul, without +noticing their murmurs. “And now, to put an end to all future burnings in +America, by one mighty conflagration of shipping in England. Come on, lads! +Pipes and matches in the van!” +</p> + +<p> +He would have distributed the men so as simultaneously to fire different ships +at different points, were it not that the lateness of the hour rendered such a +course insanely hazardous. Stationing his party in front of one of the windward +colliers, Paul and Israel sprang on board. +</p> + +<p> +In a twinkling they had broken open a boatswain’s locker, and, with great +bunches of oakum, fine and dry as tinder, had leaped into the steerage. Here, +while Paul made a blaze, Israel ran to collect the tar-pots, which being +presently poured on the burning matches, oakum and wood, soon increased the +flame. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a sure thing yet,” said Paul, “we must have a +barrel of tar.” +</p> + +<p> +They searched about until they found one, knocked out the head and bottom, and +stood it like a martyr in the midst of the flames. They then retreated up the +forward hatchway, while volumes of smoke were belched from the after one. Not +till this moment did Paul hear the cries of his men, warning him that the +inhabitants were not only actually astir, but crowds were on their way to the +pier. +</p> + +<p> +As he sprang out of the smoke towards the rail of the collier, he saw the sun +risen, with thousands of the people. Individuals hurried close to the burning +vessel. Leaping to the ground, Paul, bidding his men stand fast, ran to their +front, and, advancing about thirty feet, presented his own pistol at now +tumultuous Whitehaven. +</p> + +<p> +Those who had rushed to extinguish what they had deemed but an accidental fire, +were now paralyzed into idiotic inaction, at the defiance of the incendiary, +thinking him some sudden pirate or fiend dropped down from the moon. +</p> + +<p> +While Paul thus stood guarding the incipient conflagration, Israel, without a +weapon, dashed crazily towards the mob on the shore. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back, come back,” cried Paul. +</p> + +<p> +“Not till I start these sheep, as their own wolves many a time started +me!” +</p> + +<p> +As he rushed bare-headed like a madman, towards the crowd, the panic spread. +They fled from unarmed Israel, further than they had from the pistol of Paul. +</p> + +<p> +The flames now catching the rigging and spiralling around the masts, the whole +ship burned at one end of the harbor, while the sun, an hour high, burned at +the other. Alarm and amazement, not sleep, now ruled the world. It was time to +retreat. +</p> + +<p> +They re-embarked without opposition, first releasing a few prisoners, as the +boats could not carry them. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Israel was leaping into the boat, he saw the man at whose house he had +procured the fire, staring like a simpleton at him. +</p> + +<p> +“That was good seed you gave me;” said Israel, “see what a +yield,” pointing to the flames. He then dropped into the boat, leaving +only Paul on the pier. +</p> + +<p> +The men cried to their commander, conjuring him not to linger. +</p> + +<p> +But Paul remained for several moments, confronting in silence the clamors of +the mob beyond, and waving his solitary hand, like a disdainful tomahawk, +towards the surrounding eminences, also covered with the affrighted +inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +When the assailants had rowed pretty well off, the English rushed in great +numbers to their forts, but only to find their cannon no better than so much +iron in the ore. At length, however, they began to fire, having either brought +down some ship’s guns, or else mounted the rusty old dogs lying at the +foot of the first fort. +</p> + +<p> +In their eagerness they fired with no discretion. The shot fell short; they did +not the slightest damage. +</p> + +<p> +Paul’s men laughed aloud, and fired their pistols in the air. +</p> + +<p> +Not a splinter was made, not a drop of blood spilled throughout the affair. The +intentional harmlessness of the result, as to human life, was only equalled by +the desperate courage of the deed. It formed, doubtless, one feature of the +compassionate contempt of Paul towards the town, that he took such paternal +care of their lives and limbs. +</p> + +<p> +Had it been possible to have landed a few hours earlier not a ship nor a house +could have escaped. But it was the lesson, not the loss, that told. As it was, +enough damage had been done to demonstrate—as Paul had declared to the +wise man of Paris—that the disasters caused by the wanton fires and +assaults on the American coasts, could be easily brought home to the +enemy’s doors. Though, indeed, if the retaliators were headed by Paul +Jones, the satisfaction would not be equal to the insult, being abated by the +magnanimity of a chivalrous, however unprincipled a foe. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THEY CALL AT THE EARL OF SELKIRK’S, AND AFTERWARDS FIGHT THE SHIP-OF-WAR DRAKE.</h2> + +<p> +The Ranger now stood over the Solway Frith for the Scottish shore, and at noon +on the same day, Paul, with twelve men, including two officers and Israel, +landed on St. Mary’s Isle, one of the seats of the Earl of Selkirk. +</p> + +<p> +In three consecutive days this elemental warrior either entered the harbors or +landed on the shores of each of the Three Kingdoms. +</p> + +<p> +The morning was fair and clear. St. Mary’s Isle lay shimmering in the +sun. The light crust of snow had melted, revealing the tender grass and sweet +buds of spring mantling the sides of the cliffs. +</p> + +<p> +At once, upon advancing with his party towards the house, Paul augured ill for +his project from the loneliness of the spot. No being was seen. But cocking his +bonnet at a jaunty angle, he continued his way. Stationing the men silently +round about the house, fallowed by Israel, he announced his presence at the +porch. +</p> + +<p> +A gray-headed domestic at length responded. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the Earl within?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is in Edinburgh, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—sure?—Is your lady within?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir—who shall I say it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“A gentleman who calls to pay his respects. Here, take my card.” +</p> + +<p> +And he handed the man his name, as a private gentleman, superbly engraved at +Paris, on gilded paper. +</p> + +<p> +Israel tarried in the hall while the old servant led Paul into a parlor. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the lady appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Charming Madame, I wish you a very good morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who may it be, sir, that I have the happiness to see?” said the +lady, censoriously drawing herself up at the too frank gallantry of the +stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I sent you my card.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which leaves me equally ignorant, sir,” said the lady, coldly, +twirling the gilded pasteboard. +</p> + +<p> +“A courier dispatched to Whitehaven, charming Madame, might bring you +more particular tidings as to who has the honor of being your visitor.” +</p> + +<p> +Not comprehending what this meant, and deeply displeased, if not vaguely +alarmed, at the characteristic manner of Paul, the lady, not entirely +unembarrassed, replied, that if the gentleman came to view the isle, he was at +liberty so to do. She would retire and send him a guide. +</p> + +<p> +“Countess of Selkirk,” said Paul, advancing a step, “I call +to see the Earl. On business of urgent importance, I call.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Earl is in Edinburgh,” uneasily responded the lady, again +about to retire. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you give me your honor as a lady that it is as you say?” +</p> + +<p> +The lady looked at him in dubious resentment. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, Madame, I would not lightly impugn a lady’s lightest word, +but I surmised that, possibly, you might suspect the object of my call, in +which case it would be the most excusable thing in the world for you to seek to +shelter from my knowledge the presence of the Earl on the isle.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not dream what you mean by all this,” said the lady with a +decided alarm, yet even in her panic courageously maintaining her dignity, as +she retired, rather than retreated, nearer the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said Paul, hereupon waving his hand imploringly, and then +tenderly playing with his bonnet with the golden band, while an expression +poetically sad and sentimental stole over his tawny face; “it cannot be +too poignantly lamented that, in the profession of arms, the officer of fine +feelings and genuine sensibility should be sometimes necessitated to public +actions which his own private heart cannot approve. This hard case is mine. The +Earl, Madame, you say is absent. I believe those words. Far be it from my soul, +enchantress, to ascribe a fault to syllables which have proceeded from so +faultless a source.” +</p> + +<p> +This probably he said in reference to the lady’s mouth, which was +beautiful in the extreme. +</p> + +<p> +He bowed very lowly, while the lady eyed him with conflicting and troubled +emotions, but as yet all in darkness as to his ultimate meaning. But her more +immediate alarm had subsided, seeing now that the sailor-like extravagance of +Paul’s homage was entirely unaccompanied with any touch of intentional +disrespect. Indeed, hyperbolical as were his phrases, his gestures and whole +carriage were most heedfully deferential. +</p> + +<p> +Paul continued: “The Earl, Madame, being absent, and he being the sole +object of my call, you cannot labor under the least apprehension, when I now +inform you, that I have the honor of being an officer in the American Navy, +who, having stopped at this isle to secure the person of the Earl of Selkirk as +a hostage for the American cause, am, by your assurances, turned away from that +intent; pleased, even in disappointment, since that disappointment has served +to prolong my interview with the noble lady before me, as well as to leave her +domestic tranquillity unimpaired.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you really speak true?” said the lady in undismayed +wonderment. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, through your window you will catch a little peep of the American +colonial ship-of-war, Ranger, which I have the honor to command. With my best +respects to your lord, and sincere regrets at not finding him at home, permit +me to salute your ladyship’s hand and withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +But feigning not to notice this Parisian proposition, and artfully entrenching +her hand, without seeming to do so, the lady, in a conciliatory tone, begged +her visitor to partake of some refreshment ere he departed, at the same time +thanking him for his great civility. But declining these hospitalities, Paul +bowed thrice and quitted the room. +</p> + +<p> +In the hall he encountered Israel, standing all agape before a Highland target +of steel, with a claymore and foil crossed on top. +</p> + +<p> +“Looks like a pewter platter and knife and fork, Captain Paul.” +</p> + +<p> +“So they do, my lion; but come, curse it, the old cock has flown; fine +hen, though, left in the nest; no use; we must away empty-handed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, ain’t Mr. Selkirk in?” demanded Israel in roguish +concern. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Selkirk? Alexander Selkirk, you mean. No, lad, he’s not on the +Isle of St. Mary’s; he’s away off, a hermit, on the Isle of Juan +Fernandez—the more’s the pity; come.” +</p> + +<p> +In the porch they encountered the two officers. Paul briefly informed them of +the circumstances, saying, nothing remained but to depart forthwith. +</p> + +<p> +“With nothing at all for our pains?” murmured the two officers. +</p> + +<p> +“What, pray, would you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some pillage, to be sure—plate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shame. I thought we were three gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“So are the English officers in America; but they help themselves to +plate whenever they can get it from the private houses of the enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, now, don’t be slanderous,” said Paul; “these +officers you speak of are but one or two out of twenty, mere burglars and +light-fingered gentry, using the king’s livery but as a disguise to their +nefarious trade. The rest are men of honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul Jones,” responded the two, “we have not come on +this expedition in much expectation of regular pay; but we <i>did</i> rely upon +honorable plunder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Honorable plunder! That’s something new.” +</p> + +<p> +But the officers were not to be turned aside. They were the most efficient in +the ship. Seeing them resolute, Paul, for fear of incensing them, was at last, +as a matter of policy, obliged to comply. For himself, however, he resolved to +have nothing to do with the affair. Charging the officers not to allow the men +to enter the house on any pretence, and that no search must be made, and +nothing must be taken away, except what the lady should offer them upon making +known their demand, he beckoned to Israel and retired indignantly towards the +beach. Upon second thoughts, he dispatched Israel back, to enter the house with +the officers, as joint receiver of the plate, he being, of course, the most +reliable of the seamen. +</p> + +<p> +The lady was not a little disconcerted on receiving the officers. With cool +determination they made known their purpose. There was no escape. The lady +retired. The butler came; and soon, several silver salvers, and other articles +of value, were silently deposited in the parlor in the presence of the officers +and Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Mister Butler,” said Israel, “let me go into the dairy and +help to carry the milk-pans.” +</p> + +<p> +But, scowling upon this rusticity, or roguishness—he knew not +which—the butler, in high dudgeon at Israel’s republican +familiarity, as well as black as a thundercloud with the general insult offered +to an illustrious household by a party of armed thieves, as he viewed them, +declined any assistance. In a quarter of an hour the officers left the house, +carrying their booty. +</p> + +<p> +At the porch they were met by a red-cheeked, spiteful-looking lass, who, with +her brave lady’s compliments, added two child’s rattles of silver +and coral to their load. +</p> + +<p> +Now, one of the officers was a Frenchman, the other a Spaniard. +</p> + +<p> +The Spaniard dashed his rattle indignantly to the ground. The Frenchman took +his very pleasantly, and kissed it, saying to the girl that he would long +preserve the coral, as a memento of her rosy cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +When the party arrived on the beach, they found Captain Paul writing with +pencil on paper held up against the smooth tableted side of the cliff. Next +moment he seemed to be making his signature. With a reproachful glance towards +the two officers, he handed the slip to Israel, bidding him hasten immediately +with it to the house and place it in Lady Selkirk’s own hands. +</p> + +<p> +The note was as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame: +</p> + +<p> +“After so courteous a reception, I am disturbed to make you no better +return than you have just experienced from the actions of certain persons under +my command.—actions, lady, which my profession of arms obliges me not +only to brook, but, in a measure, to countenance. From the bottom of my heart, +my dear lady, I deplore this most melancholy necessity of my delicate position. +However unhandsome the desire of these men, some complaisance seemed due them +from me, for their general good conduct and bravery on former occasions. I had +but an instant to consider. I trust, that in unavoidably gratifying them, I +have inflicted less injury on your ladyship’s property than I have on my +own bleeding sensibilities. But my heart will not allow me to say more. Permit +me to assure you, dear lady, that when the plate is sold, I shall, at all +hazards, become the purchaser, and will be proud to restore it to you, by such +conveyance as you may hereafter see fit to appoint. +</p> + +<p> +“From hence I go, Madame, to engage, to-morrow morning, his +Majesty’s ship, Drake, of twenty guns, now lying at Carrickfergus. I +should meet the enemy with more than wonted resolution, could I flatter myself +that, through this unhandsome conduct on the part of my officers, I lie not +under the disesteem of the sweet lady of the Isle of St. Mary’s. But +unconquerable as Mars should I be, could but dare to dream, that in some green +retreat of her charming domain, the Countess of Selkirk offers up a charitable +prayer for, my dear lady countess, one, who coming to take a captive, himself +has been captivated. +</p> + +<p> +“Your ladyship’s adoring enemy, +</p> + +<h3>“JOHN PAUL JONES.”</h3> + +<p> +How the lady received this super-ardent note, history does not relate. But +history has not omitted to record, that after the return of the Ranger to +France, through the assiduous efforts of Paul in buying up the booty, piece by +piece, from the clutches of those among whom it had been divided, and not +without a pecuniary private loss to himself, equal to the total value of the +plunder, the plate was punctually restored, even to the silver heads of two +pepper-boxes; and, not only this, but the Earl, hearing all the particulars, +magnanimously wrote Paul a letter, expressing thanks for his politeness. In the +opinion of the noble Earl, Paul was a man of honor. It were rash to differ in +opinion with such high-born authority. +</p> + +<p> +Upon returning to the ship, she was instantly pointed over towards the Irish +coast. Next morning Carrickfergus was in sight. Paul would have gone straight +in; but Israel, reconnoitring with his glass, informed him that a large ship, +probably the Drake, was just coming out. +</p> + +<p> +“What think you, Israel, do they know who we are? Let me have the +glass.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are dropping a boat now, sir,” replied Israel, removing the +glass from his eye, and handing it to Paul. +</p> + +<p> +“So they are—so they are. They don’t know us. I’ll +decoy that boat alongside. Quick—they are coming for us—take the +helm now yourself, my lion, and keep the ship’s stern steadily presented +towards the advancing boat. Don’t let them have the least peep at our +broadside.” +</p> + +<p> +The boat came on, an officer in its bow all the time eyeing the Ranger through +a glass. Presently the boat was within hail. +</p> + +<p> +“Ship ahoy! Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come alongside,” answered Paul through his trumpet, in a rapid +off-hand tone, as though he were a gruff sort of friend, impatient at being +suspected for a foe. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments the officer of the boat stepped into the Ranger’s +gangway. Cocking his bonnet gallantly, Paul advanced towards him, making a very +polite bow, saying: “Good morning, sir, good morning; delighted to see +you. That’s a pretty sword you have; pray, let me look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said the officer, glancing at the ship’s armament, +and turning pale, “I am your prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“No—my guest,” responded Paul, winningly. “Pray, let me +relieve you of your—your—cane.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus humorously he received the officer’s delivered sword. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me, sir, if you please,” he continued, “what brings +out his Majesty’s ship Drake this fine morning? Going a little +airing?” +</p> + +<p> +“She comes out in search of you, but when I left her side half an hour +since she did not know that the ship off the harbor was the one she +sought.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had news from Whitehaven, I suppose, last night, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye: express; saying that certain incendiaries had landed there early +that morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?—what sort of men were they, did you say?” said Paul, +shaking his bonnet fiercely to one side of his head, and coming close to the +officer. “Pardon me,” he added derisively, “I had forgot you +are my <i>guest</i>. Israel, see the unfortunate gentleman below, and his men +forward.” +</p> + +<p> +The Drake was now seen slowly coming out under a light air, attended by five +small pleasure-vessels, decorated with flags and streamers, and full of +gaily-dressed people, whom motives similar to those which drew visitors to the +circus, had induced to embark on their adventurous trip. But they little +dreamed how nigh the desperate enemy was. +</p> + +<p> +“Drop the captured boat astern,” said Paul; “see what effect +that will have on those merry voyagers.” +</p> + +<p> +No sooner was the empty boat descried by the pleasure-vessels than forthwith, +surmising the truth, they with all diligence turned about and re-entered the +harbor. Shortly after, alarm-smokes were seen extending along both sides of the +channel. +</p> + +<p> +“They smoke us at last, Captain Paul,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“There will be more smoke yet before the day is done,” replied +Paul, gravely. +</p> + +<p> +The wind was right under the land, the tide unfavorable. The Drake worked out +very slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, like some fiery-heated duellist calling on urgent business at frosty +daybreak, and long kept waiting at the door by the dilatoriness of his +antagonist, shrinking at the idea of getting up to be cut to pieces in the +cold—the Ranger, with a better breeze, impatiently tacked to and fro in +the channel. At last, when the English vessel had fairly weathered the point, +Paul, ranging ahead, courteously led her forth, as a beau might a belle in a +ballroom, to mid-channel, and then suffered her to come within hail. +</p> + +<p> +“She is hoisting her colors now, sir,” said Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Give her the stars and stripes, then, my lad.” +</p> + +<p> +Joyfully running to the locker, Israel attached the flag to the halyards. The +wind freshened. He stood elevated. The bright flag blew around him, a glorified +shroud, enveloping him in its red ribbons and spangles, like up-springing +tongues, and sparkles of flame. +</p> + +<p> +As the colors rose to their final perch, and streamed in the air, Paul eyed +them exultingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I first hoisted that flag on an American ship, and was the first among +men to get it saluted. If I perish this night, the name of Paul Jones shall +live. Hark! they hail us.” +</p> + +<p> +“What ship are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your enemy. Come on! What wants the fellow of more prefaces and +introductions?” +</p> + +<p> +The sun was now calmly setting over the green land of Ireland. The sky was +serene, the sea smooth, the wind just sufficient to waft the two vessels +steadily and gently. After the first firing and a little manoeuvring, the two +ships glided on freely, side by side; in that mild air Exchanging their deadly +broadsides, like two friendly horsemen walking their steeds along a plain, +chatting as they go. After an hour of this running fight, the conversation +ended. The Drake struck. How changed from the big craft of sixty short minutes +before! She seemed now, above deck, like a piece of wild western woodland into +which choppers had been. Her masts and yards prostrate, and hanging in +jack-straws; several of her sails ballooning out, as they dragged in the sea, +like great lopped tops of foliage. The black hull and shattered stumps of +masts, galled and riddled, looked as if gigantic woodpeckers had been tapping +them. +</p> + +<p> +The Drake was the larger ship; more cannon; more men. Her loss in killed and +wounded was far the greater. Her brave captain and lieutenant were mortally +wounded. +</p> + +<p> +The former died as the prize was boarded, the latter two days after. +</p> + +<p> +It was twilight, the weather still severe. No cannonade, naught that mad man +can do, molests the stoical imperturbability of Nature, when Nature chooses to +be still. This weather, holding on through the following day, greatly +facilitated the refitting of the ships. That done, the two vessels, sailing +round the north of Ireland, steered towards Brest. They were repeatedly chased +by English cruisers, but safely reached their anchorage in the French waters. +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty fair four weeks’ yachting, gentlemen,” said Paul +Jones, as the Ranger swung to her cable, while some French officers boarded +her. “I bring two travellers with me, gentlemen,” he continued. +“Allow me to introduce you to my particular friend Israel Potter, late of +North America, and also to his Britannic Majesty’s ship Drake, late of +Carrickfergus, Ireland.” +</p> + +<p> +This cruise made loud fame for Paul, especially at the court of France, whose +king sent Paul, a sword and a medal. But poor Israel, who also had conquered a +craft, and all unaided too—what had he? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018"></a> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +THE EXPEDITION THAT SAILED FROM GROIX.</h2> + +<p> +Three months after anchoring at Brest, through Dr. Franklin’s +negotiations with the French king, backed by the bestirring ardor of Paul, a +squadron of nine vessels, of various force, were ready in the road of Groix for +another descent on the British coasts. These craft were miscellaneously picked +up, their crews a mongrel pack, the officers mostly French, unacquainted with +each other, and secretly jealous of Paul. The expedition was full of the +elements of insubordination and failure. Much bitterness and agony resulted to +a spirit like Paul’s. But he bore up, and though in many particulars the +sequel more than warranted his misgivings, his soul still refused to surrender. +</p> + +<p> +The career of this stubborn adventurer signally illustrates the idea that since +all human affairs are subject to organic disorder, since they are created in +and sustained by a sort of half-disciplined chaos, hence he who in great things +seeks success must never wait for smooth water, which never was and never will +be, but, with what straggling method he can, dash with all his derangements at +his object, leaving the rest to Fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Though nominally commander of the squadron, Paul was not so in effect. Most of +his captains conceitedly claimed independent commands. One of them in the end +proved a traitor outright; few of the rest were reliable. +</p> + +<p> +As for the ships, that commanded by Paul in person will be a good example of +the fleet. She was an old Indiaman, clumsy and crank, smelling strongly of the +savor of tea, cloves, and arrack, the cargoes of former voyages. Even at that +day she was, from her venerable grotesqueness, what a cocked hat is, at the +present age, among ordinary beavers. Her elephantine bulk was houdahed with a +castellated poop like the leaning tower of Pisa. Poor Israel, standing on the +top of this poop, spy-glass at his eye, looked more an astronomer than a +mariner, having to do, not with the mountains of the billows, but the mountains +in the moon. Galileo on Fiesole. She was originally a single-decked ship, that +is, carried her armament on one gun-deck; but cutting ports below, in her after +part, Paul rammed out there six old eighteen-pounders, whose rusty muzzles +peered just above the water-line, like a parcel of dirty mulattoes from a +cellar-way. Her name was the Duras, but, ere sailing, it was changed to that +other appellation, whereby this sad old hulk became afterwards immortal. Though +it is not unknown, that a compliment to Doctor Franklin was involved in this +change of titles, yet the secret history of the affair will now for the first +time be disclosed. +</p> + +<p> +It was evening in the road of Groix. After a fagging day’s work, trying +to conciliate the hostile jealousy of his officers, and provide, in the face of +endless obstacles (for he had to dance attendance on scores of intriguing +factors and brokers ashore), the requisite stores for the fleet, Paul sat in +his cabin in a half-despondent reverie, while Israel, cross-legged at his +commander’s feet, was patching up some old signals. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Paul, I don’t like our ship’s name.—Duras? +What’s that mean?—Duras? Being cribbed up in a ship named Duras! a +sort of makes one feel as if he were in durance vile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gad, I never thought of that before, my lion. Duras—Durance vile. +I suppose it’s superstition, but I’ll change Come, Yellow-mane, +what shall we call her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Captain Paul, don’t you like Doctor Franklin? Hasn’t +he been the prime man to get this fleet together? Let’s call her the +Doctor Franklin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, that will too publicly declare him just at present; and Poor +Richard wants to be a little shady in this business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Richard!—call her Poor Richard, then,” cried Israel, +suddenly struck by the idea. +</p> + +<p> +“’Gad, you have it,” answered Paul, springing to his feet, as +all trace of his former despondency left him;—“Poor Richard shall +be the name, in honor to the saying, that ‘God helps them that help +themselves,’ as Poor Richard says.” +</p> + +<p> +Now this was the way the craft came to be called the <i>Bon Homme Richard</i>; +for it being deemed advisable to have a French rendering of the new title, it +assumed the above form. +</p> + +<p> +A few days after, the force sailed. Ere long, they captured several vessels; +but the captains of the squadron proving refractory, events took so deplorable +a turn, that Paul, for the present, was obliged to return to Groix. Luckily, +however, at this junction a cartel arrived from England with upwards of a +hundred exchanged American seamen, who almost to a man enlisted under the flag +of Paul. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the resailing of the force, the old troubles broke out afresh. Most of her +consorts insubordinately separated from the Bon Homme Richard. At length Paul +found himself in violent storms beating off the rugged southeastern coast of +Scotland, with only two accompanying ships. But neither the mutiny of his +fleet, nor the chaos of the elements, made him falter in his purpose. Nay, at +this crisis, he projected the most daring of all his descents. +</p> + +<p> +The Cheviot Hills were in sight. Sundry vessels had been described bound in for +the Firth of Forth, on whose south shore, well up the Firth, stands Leith, the +port of Edinburgh, distant but a mile or two from that capital. He resolved to +dash at Leith, and lay it under contribution or in ashes. He called the +captains of his two remaining consorts on board his own ship to arrange +details. Those worthies had much of fastidious remark to make against the plan. +After losing much time in trying to bring to a conclusion their sage +deliberations, Paul, by addressing their cupidity, achieved that which all +appeals to their gallantry could not accomplish. He proclaimed the grand prize +of the Leith lottery at no less a figure than £200,000, that being named as the +ransom. Enough: the three ships enter the Firth, boldly and freely, as if +carrying Quakers to a Peace-Congress. +</p> + +<p> +Along both startled shores the panic of their approach spread like the cholera. +The three suspicious crafts had so long lain off and on, that none doubted they +were led by the audacious viking, Paul Jones. At five o’clock, on the +following morning, they were distinctly seen from the capital of Scotland, +quietly sailing up the bay. Batteries were hastily thrown up at Leith, arms +were obtained from the castle at Edinburgh, alarm fires were kindled in all +directions. Yet with such tranquillity of effrontery did Paul conduct his +ships, concealing as much as possible their warlike character, that more than +once his vessels were mistaken for merchantmen, and hailed by passing ships as +such. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon, Israel, at his station on the tower of Pisa, reported a boat +with five men coming off to the Richard from the coast of Fife. +</p> + +<p> +“They have hot oat-cakes for us,” said Paul; “let ’em +come. To encourage them, show them the English ensign, Israel, my lad.” +</p> + +<p> +Soon the boat was alongside. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my good fellows, what can I do for you this afternoon?” said +Paul, leaning over the side with a patronizing air. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, captain, we come from the Laird of Crokarky, who wants some powder +and ball for his money.” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you with powder and ball, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! haven’t you heard that that bloody pirate, Paul Jones, is +somewhere hanging round the coasts?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, indeed, but he won’t hurt you. He’s only going round +among the nations, with his old hat, taking up contributions. So, away with ye; +ye don’t want any powder and ball to give him. He wants contributions of +silver, not lead. Prepare yourselves with silver, I say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, captain, the Laird ordered us not to return without powder and +ball. See, here is the price. It may be the taking of the bloody pirate, if you +let us have what we want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, pass ’em over a keg,” said Paul, laughing, but +modifying his order by a sly whisper to Israel: “Oh, put up your price, +it’s a gift to ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“But ball, captain; what’s the use of powder without ball?” +roared one of the fellows from the boat’s bow, as the keg was lowered in. +“We want ball.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless my soul, you bawl loud enough as it is. Away with ye, with what +you have. Look to your keg, and hark ye, if ye catch that villain, Paul Jones, +give him no quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, captain, here,” shouted one of the boatmen, +“there’s a mistake. This is a keg of pickles, not powder. +Look,” and poking into the bung-hole, he dragged out a green cucumber +dripping with brine. “Take this back, and give us the powder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh,” said Paul, “the powder is at the bottom, pickled +powder, best way to keep it. Away with ye, now, and after that bloody +embezzler, Paul Jones.” +</p> + +<p> +This was Sunday. The ships held on. During the afternoon, a long tack of the +Richard brought her close towards the shores of Fife, near the thriving little +port of Kirkaldy. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a great crowd on the beach. Captain Paul,” said +Israel, looking through his glass. “There seems to be an old woman +standing on a fish-barrel there, a sort of selling things at auction to the +people, but I can’t be certain yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see,” said Paul, taking the glass as they came nigher. +“Sure enough, it’s an old lady—an old quack-doctress, seems +to me, in a black gown, too. I must hail her.” +</p> + +<p> +Ordering the ship to be kept on towards the port, he shortened sail within easy +distance, so as to glide slowly by, and seizing the trumpet, thus spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“Old lady, ahoy! What are you talking about? What’s your +text?” +</p> + +<p> +“The righteous shall rejoice when he seeth the vengeance. He shall wash +his feet in the blood of the wicked.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, what a lack of charity. Now hear mine:—God helpeth them that +help themselves, as Poor Richard says.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reprobate pirate, a gale shall yet come to drive thee in wrecks from our +waters.” +</p> + +<p> +“The strong wind of your hate fills my sails well. Adieu,” waving +his bonnet—“tell us the rest at Leith.” +</p> + +<p> +Next morning the ships were almost within cannon-shot of the town. The men to +be landed were in the boats. Israel had the tiller of the foremost one, waiting +for his commander to enter, when just as Paul’s foot was on the gangway, +a sudden squall struck all three ships, dashing the boats against them, and +causing indescribable confusion. The squall ended in a violent gale. Getting +his men on board with all dispatch, Paul essayed his best to withstand the fury +of the wind, but it blew adversely, and with redoubled power. A ship at a +distance went down beneath it. The disappointed invader was obliged to turn +before the gale, and renounce his project. +</p> + +<p> +To this hour, on the shores of the Firth of Forth, it is the popular +persuasion, that the Rev. Mr. Shirrer’s (of Kirkaldy) powerful +intercession was the direct cause of the elemental repulse experienced off the +endangered harbor of Leith. +</p> + +<p> +Through the ill qualities of Paul’s associate captains: their timidity, +incapable of keeping pace with his daring; their jealousy, blind to his +superiority to rivalship; together with the general reduction of his force, now +reduced by desertion, from nine to three ships; and last of all, the enmity of +seas and winds; the invader, driven, not by a fleet, but a gale, out of the +Scottish water’s, had the mortification in prospect of terminating a +cruise, so formidable in appearance at the onset, without one added deed to +sustain the reputation gained by former exploits. Nevertheless, he was not +disheartened. He sought to conciliate fortune, not by despondency, but by +resolution. And, as if won by his confident bearing, that fickle power suddenly +went over to him from the ranks of the enemy—suddenly as plumed Marshal +Ney to the stubborn standard of Napoleon from Elba, marching regenerated on +Paris. In a word, luck—that’s the word—shortly threw in +Paul’s way the great action of his life: the most extraordinary of all +naval engagements; the unparalleled death-lock with the Serapis. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0019"></a> +CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +THEY FIGHT THE SERAPIS.</h2> + +<p> +The battle between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis stands in history as +the first signal collision on the sea between the Englishman and the American. +For obstinacy, mutual hatred, and courage, it is without precedent or +subsequent in the story of ocean. The strife long hung undetermined, but the +English flag struck in the end. +</p> + +<p> +There would seem to be something singularly indicatory in this engagement. It +may involve at once a type, a parallel, and a prophecy. Sharing the same blood +with England, and yet her proved foe in two wars—not wholly inclined at +bottom to forget an old grudge—intrepid, unprincipled, reckless, +predatory, with boundless ambition, civilized in externals but a savage at +heart, America is, or may yet be, the Paul Jones of nations. +</p> + +<p> +Regarded in this indicatory light, the battle between the Bon Homme Richard and +the Serapis—in itself so curious—may well enlist our interest. +</p> + +<p> +Never was there a fight so snarled. The intricacy of those incidents which defy +the narrator’s extrication, is not illy figured in that bewildering +intertanglement of all the yards and anchors of the two ships, which confounded +them for the time in one chaos of devastation. +</p> + +<p> +Elsewhere than here the reader must go who seeks an elaborate version of the +fight, or, indeed, much of any regular account of it whatever. The writer is +but brought to mention the battle because he must needs follow, in all events, +the fortunes of the humble adventurer whose life lie records. Yet this +necessarily involves some general view of each conspicuous incident in which he +shares. +</p> + +<p> +Several circumstances of the place and time served to invest the fight with a +certain scenic atmosphere casting a light almost poetic over the wild gloom of +its tragic results. The battle was fought between the hours of seven and ten at +night; the height of it was under a full harvest moon, in view of thousands of +distant spectators crowning the high cliffs of Yorkshire. +</p> + +<p> +From the Tees to the Humber, the eastern coast of Britain, for the most part, +wears a savage, melancholy, and Calabrian aspect. It is in course of incessant +decay. Every year the isle which repulses nearly all other foes, succumbs to +the Attila assaults of the deep. Here and there the base of the cliffs is +strewn with masses of rock, undermined by the waves, and tumbled headlong +below, where, sometimes, the water completely surrounds them, showing in +shattered confusion detached rocks, pyramids, and obelisks, rising +half-revealed from the surf—the Tadmores of the wasteful desert of the +sea. Nowhere is this desolation more marked than for those fifty miles of coast +between Flamborough Head and the Spurm. +</p> + +<p> +Weathering out the gale which had driven them from Leith, Paul’s ships +for a few days were employed in giving chase to various merchantmen and +colliers; capturing some, sinking others, and putting the rest to flight. Off +the mouth of the Humber they ineffectually manoeuvred with a view of drawing +out a king’s frigate, reported to be lying at anchor within. At another +time a large fleet was encountered, under convoy of some ships of force. But +their panic caused the fleet to hug the edge of perilous shoals very nigh the +land, where, by reason of his having no competent pilot, Paul durst not +approach to molest them. The same night he saw two strangers further out at +sea, and chased them until three in the morning, when, getting pretty nigh, he +surmised that they must needs be vessels of his own squadron, which, previous +to his entering the Firth of Forth, had separated from his command. Daylight +proved this supposition correct. Five vessels of the original squadron were now +once more in company. About noon a fleet of forty merchantmen appeared coming +round Flamborough Head, protected by two English man-of-war, the Serapis and +Countess of Scarborough. Descrying the five cruisers sailing down, the forty +sail, like forty chickens, fluttered in a panic under the wing of the shore. +Their armed protectors bravely steered from the land, making the disposition +for battle. Promptly accepting the challenge, Paul, giving the signal to his +consorts, earnestly pressed forward. But, earnest as he was, it was seven in +the evening ere the encounter began. Meantime his comrades, heedless of his +signals, sailed independently along. Dismissing them from present +consideration, we confine ourselves, for a while, to the Richard and the +Serapis, the grand duellists of the fight. +</p> + +<p> +The Richard carried a motley, crew, to keep whom in order one hundred and +thirty-five soldiers—themselves a hybrid band—had been put on +board, commanded by French officers of inferior rank. Her armament was +similarly heterogeneous; guns of all sorts and calibres; but about equal on the +whole to those of a thirty-two-gun frigate. The spirit of baneful intermixture +pervaded this craft throughout. +</p> + +<p> +The Serapis was a frigate of fifty guns, more than half of which individually +exceeded in calibre any one gun of the Richard. She had a crew of some three +hundred and twenty trained man-of-war’s men. +</p> + +<p> +There is something in a naval engagement which radically distinguishes it from +one on the land. The ocean, at times, has what is called its <i>sea</i> and its +<i>trough of the sea</i>; but it has neither rivers, woods, banks, towns, nor +mountains. In mild weather it is one hammered plain. Stratagems, like those of +disciplined armies—ambuscades, like those of Indians, are impossible. All +is clear, open, fluent. The very element which sustains the combatants, yields +at the stroke of a feather. One wind and one tide at one time operate upon all +who here engage. This simplicity renders a battle between two men-of-war, with +their huge white wings, more akin to the Miltonic contests of archangels than +to <i>the comparatively squalid</i> tussles of earth. +</p> + +<p> +As the ships neared, a hazy darkness overspread the water. The moon was not yet +risen. Objects were perceived with difficulty. Borne by a soft moist breeze +over gentle waves, they came within pistol- shot. Owing to the obscurity, and +the known neighborhood of other vessels, the Serapis was uncertain who the +Richard was. Through the dim mist each ship loomed forth to the other vast, but +indistinct, as the ghost of Morven. Sounds of the trampling of resolute men +echoed from either hull, whose tight decks dully resounded like drum-heads in a +funeral march. +</p> + +<p> +The Serapis hailed. She was answered by a broadside. For half an hour the +combatants deliberately manoeuvred, continually changing their position, but +always within shot fire. The. Serapis—the better sailer of the +two—kept critically circling the Richard, making lounging advances now +and then, and as suddenly steering off; hate causing her to act not unlike a +wheeling cock about a hen, when stirred by the contrary passion. Meantime, +though within easy speaking distance, no further syllable was exchanged; but an +incessant cannonade was kept up. +</p> + +<p> +At this point, a third party, the Scarborough, drew near, seemingly desirous of +giving assistance to her consort. But thick smoke was now added to the +night’s natural obscurity. The Scarborough imperfectly discerned two +ships, and plainly saw the common fire they made; but which was which, she +could not tell. Eager to befriend the Serapis, she durst not fire a gun, lest +she might unwittingly act the part of a foe. As when a hawk and a crow are +clawing and beaking high in the air, a second crow flying near, will seek to +join the battle, but finding no fair chance to engage, at last flies away to +the woods; just so did the Scarborough now. Prudence dictated the step; because +several chance shot—from which of the combatants could not be +known—had already struck the Scarborough. So, unwilling uselessly to +expose herself, off went for the present this baffled and ineffectual friend. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after, an invisible hand came and set down a great yellow lamp in the +east. The hand reached up unseen from below the horizon, and set the lamp down +right on the rim of the horizon, as on a threshold; as much as to say, +Gentlemen warriors, permit me a little to light up this rather gloomy looking +subject. The lamp was the round harvest moon; the one solitary foot-light of +the scene. But scarcely did the rays from the lamp pierce that languid haze. +Objects before perceived with difficulty, now glimmered ambiguously. Bedded in +strange vapors, the great foot-light cast a dubious, half demoniac glare across +the waters, like the phantasmagoric stream sent athwart a London flagging in a +night-rain from an apothecary’s blue and green window. Through this +sardonical mist, the face of the Man-in-the-Moon—looking right towards +the combatants, as if he were standing in a trap-door of the sea, leaning +forward leisurely with his arms complacently folded over upon the edge of the +horizon—this queer face wore a serious, apishly self-satisfied leer, as +if the Man-in-the-Moon had somehow secretly put up the ships to their contest, +and in the depths of his malignant old soul was not unpleased to see how well +his charms worked. There stood the grinning Man-in-the-Moon, his head just +dodging into view over the rim of the sea:—Mephistopheles prompter of the +stage. +</p> + +<p> +Aided now a little by the planet, one of the consorts of the Richard, the +Pallas, hovering far outside the fight, dimly discerned the suspicious form of +a lonely vessel unknown to her. She resolved to engage it, if it proved a foe. +But ere they joined, the unknown ship—which proved to be the +Scarborough—received a broadside at long gun’s distance from +another consort of the Richard the Alliance. The shot whizzed across the broad +interval like shuttlecocks across a great hall. Presently the battledores of +both batteries were at work, and rapid compliments of shuttlecocks were very +promptly exchanged. The adverse consorts of the two main belligerents fought +with all the rage of those fiery seconds who in some desperate duels make their +principal’s quarrel their own. Diverted from the Richard and the Serapis +by this little by-play, the Man-in-the-Moon, all eager to see what it was, +somewhat raised himself from his trap-door with an added grin on his face. By +this time, off sneaked the Alliance, and down swept the Pallas, at close +quarters engaging the Scarborough; an encounter destined in less than an hour +to end in the latter ship’s striking her flag. +</p> + +<p> +Compared to the Serapis and the Richard, the Pallas and the Scarborough were as +two pages to two knights. In their immature way they showed the same traits as +their fully developed superiors. +</p> + +<p> +The Man-in-the-Moon now raised himself still higher to obtain a better view of +affairs. +</p> + +<p> +But the Man-in-the-Moon was not the only spectator. From the high cliffs of the +shore, and especially from the great promontory of Flamborough Head, the scene +was witnessed by crowds of the islanders. Any rustic might be pardoned his +curiosity in view of the spectacle, presented. Far in the indistinct distance +fleets of frightened merchantmen filled the lower air with their sails, as +flakes of snow in a snow-storm by night. Hovering undeterminedly, in another +direction, were several of the scattered consorts of Paul, taking no part in +the fray. Nearer, was an isolated mist, investing the Pallas and +Scarborough—a mist slowly adrift on the sea, like a floating isle, and at +intervals irradiated with sparkles of fire and resonant with the boom of +cannon. Further away, in the deeper water, was a lurid cloud, incessantly torn +in shreds of lightning, then fusing together again, once more to be rent. As +yet this lurid cloud was neither stationary nor slowly adrift, like the +first-mentioned one; but, instinct with chaotic vitality, shifted hither and +thither, foaming with fire, like a valiant water-spout careering off the coast +of Malabar. +</p> + +<p> +To get some idea of the events enacting in that cloud, it will be necessary to +enter it; to go and possess it, as a ghost may rush into a body, or the devils +into the swine, which running down the steep place perished in the sea; just as +the Richard is yet to do. +</p> + +<p> +Thus far the Serapis and the Richard had been manoeuvring and chasing to each +other like partners in a cotillion, all the time indulging in rapid repartee. +</p> + +<p> +But finding at last that the superior managableness of the enemy’s ship +enabled him to get the better of the clumsy old Indiaman, the Richard, in +taking position, Paul, with his wonted resolution, at once sought to neutralize +this, by hugging him close. But the attempt to lay the Richard right across the +head of the Serapis ended quite otherwise, in sending the enemy’s +jib-boom just over the Richard’s great tower of Pisa, where Israel was +stationed; who, catching it eagerly, stood for an instant holding to the slack +of the sail, like one grasping a horse by the mane prior to vaulting into the +saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, hold hard, lad,” cried Paul, springing to his side with a +coil of rigging. With a few rapid turns he knitted himself to his foe. The wind +now acting on the sails of the Serapis forced her, heel and point, her entire +length, cheek by jowl, alongside the Richard. The projecting cannon scraped; +the yards interlocked; but the hulls did not touch. A long lane of darkling +water lay wedged between, like that narrow canal in Venice which dozes between +two shadowy piles, and high in air is secretly crossed by the Bridge of Sighs. +But where the six yard-arms reciprocally arched overhead, three bridges of +sighs were both seen and heard, as the moon and wind kept rising. +</p> + +<p> +Into that Lethean canal—pond-like in its smoothness as compared with the +sea without—fell many a poor soul that night; fell, forever forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +As some heaving rent coinciding with a disputed frontier on a volcanic plain, +that boundary abyss was the jaws of death to both sides. So contracted was it, +that in many cases the gun-rammers had to be thrust into the opposite ports, in +order to enter to muzzles of their own cannon. It seemed more an intestine +feud, than a fight between strangers. Or, rather, it was as if the Siamese +Twins, oblivious of their fraternal bond, should rage in unnatural fight. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long, a horrible explosion was heard, drowning for the instant the +cannonade. Two of the old eighteen-pounders—before spoken of, as having +been hurriedly set up below the main deck of the Richard—burst all to +pieces, killing the sailors who worked them, and shattering all that part of +the hull, as if two exploded steam-boilers had shot out of its opposite sides. +The effect was like the fall of the walls of a house. Little now upheld the +great tower of Pisa but a few naked crow stanchions. Thenceforth, not a few +balls from the Serapis must have passed straight through the Richard without +grazing her. It was like firing buck-shot through the ribs of a skeleton. +</p> + +<p> +But, further forward, so deadly was the broadside from the heavy batteries of +the Serapis—levelled point-blank, and right down the throat and bowels, +as it were, of the Richard—that it cleared everything before it. The men +on the Richard’s covered gun-deck ran above, like miners from the +fire-damp. Collecting on the forecastle, they continued to fight with grenades +and muskets. The soldiers also were in the lofty tops, whence they kept up +incessant volleys, cascading their fire down as pouring lava from cliffs. +</p> + +<p> +The position of the men in the two ships was now exactly reversed. For while +the Serapis was tearing the Richard all to pieces below deck, and had swept +that covered part almost of the last man, the Richard’s crowd of musketry +had complete control of the upper deck of the Serapis, where it was almost +impossible for man to remain unless as a corpse. Though in the beginning, the +tops of the Serapis had not been unsupplied with marksmen, yet they had long +since been cleared by the overmastering musketry of the Richard. Several, with +leg or arm broken by a ball, had been seen going dimly downward from their +giddy perch, like falling pigeons shot on the wing. +</p> + +<p> +As busy swallows about barn-eaves and ridge-poles, some of the Richard’s +marksmen, quitting their tops, now went far out on their yard-arms, where they +overhung the Serapis. From thence they dropped hand-grenades upon her decks, +like apples, which growing in one field fall over the fence into another. +Others of their band flung the same sour fruit into the open ports of the +Serapis. A hail-storm of aerial combustion descended and slanted on the +Serapis, while horizontal thunderbolts rolled crosswise through the +subterranean vaults of the Richard. The belligerents were no longer, in the +ordinary sense of things, an English ship and an American ship. It was a +co-partnership and joint-stock combustion-company of both ships; yet divided, +even in participation. The two vessels were as two houses, through whose +party-wall doors have been cut; one family (the Guelphs) occupying the whole +lower story; another family (the Ghibelines) the whole upper story. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, determined Paul flew hither and thither like the meteoric +corposant-ball, which shiftingly dances on the tips and verges of ships’ +rigging in storms. Wherever he went, he seemed to cast a pale light on all +faces. Blacked and burnt, his Scotch bonnet was compressed to a gun-wad on his +head. His Parisian coat, with its gold-laced sleeve laid aside, disclosed to +the full the blue tattooing on his arm, which sometimes in fierce gestures +streamed in the haze of the cannonade, cabalistically terrific as the charmed +standard of Satan. Yet his frenzied manner was less a testimony of his internal +commotion than intended to inspirit and madden his men, some of whom seeing +him, in transports of intrepidity stripped themselves to their trowsers, +exposing their naked bodies to the as naked shot The same was done on the +Serapis, where several guns were seen surrounded by their buff crews as by +fauns and satyrs. +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of the fray, before the ships interlocked, in the intervals of +smoke which swept over the ships as mist over mountain-tops, affording open +rents here and there—the gun-deck of the Serapis, at certain points, +showed, congealed for the instant in all attitudes of dauntlessness, a gallery +of marble statues—fighting gladiators. +</p> + +<p> +Stooping low and intent, with one braced leg thrust behind, and one arm thrust +forward, curling round towards the muzzle of the gun, there was seen the +<i>loader</i>, performing his allotted part; on the other side of the carriage, +in the same stooping posture, but with both hands holding his long black pole, +pike-wise, ready for instant use—stood the eager <i>rammer and +sponger</i>; while at the breech, crouched the wary <i>captain of the gun</i>, +his keen eye, like the watching leopard’s, burning along the range; and +behind all, tall and erect, the Egyptian symbol of death, stood the +<i>matchman</i>, immovable for the moment, his long-handled match reversed. Up +to their two long death-dealing batteries, the trained men of the Serapis stood +and toiled in mechanical magic of discipline. They tended those rows of guns, +as Lowell girls the rows of looms in a cotton factory. The Parcae were not more +methodical; Atropos not more fatal; the automaton chess-player not more +irresponsible. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, lad; I want a grenade, now, thrown down their main hatchway. I saw +long piles of cartridges there. The powder monkeys have brought them up faster +than they can be used. Take a bucket of combustibles, and let’s hear from +you presently.” +</p> + +<p> +These words were spoken by Paul to Israel. Israel did as ordered. In a few +minutes, bucket in hand, begrimed with powder, sixty feet in air, he hung like +Apollyon from the extreme tip of the yard over the fated abyss of the hatchway. +As he looked down between the eddies of smoke into that slaughterous pit, it +was like looking from the verge of a cataract down into the yeasty pool at its +base. Watching, his chance, he dropped one grenade with such faultless +precision, that, striking its mark, an explosion rent the Serapis like a +volcano. The long row of heaped cartridges was ignited. The fire ran +horizontally, like an express on a railway. More than twenty men were instantly +killed: nearly forty wounded. This blow restored the chances of battle, before +in favor of the Serapis. +</p> + +<p> +But the drooping spirits of the English were suddenly revived, by an event +which crowned the scene by an act on the part of one of the consorts of the +Richard, the incredible atrocity of which has induced all humane minds to +impute it rather to some incomprehensible mistake than to the malignant madness +of the perpetrator. +</p> + +<p> +The cautious approach and retreat of a consort of the Serapis, the Scarborough, +before the moon rose, has already been mentioned. It is now to be related how +that, when the moon was more than an hour high, a consort of the Richard, the +Alliance, likewise approached and retreated. This ship, commanded by a +Frenchman, infamous in his own navy, and obnoxious in the service to which he +at present belonged; this ship, foremost in insurgency to Paul hitherto, and +which, for the most part, had crept like a poltroon from the fray; the Alliance +now was at hand. Seeing her, Paul deemed the battle at an end. But to his +horror, the Alliance threw a broadside full into the stern of the Richard, +without touching the Serapis. Paul called to her, for God’s sake to +forbear destroying the Richard. The reply was, a second, a third, a fourth +broadside, striking the Richard ahead, astern, and amidships. One of the +volleys killed several men and one officer. Meantime, like carpenters’ +augers, and the sea-worm called Remora, the guns of the Serapis were drilling +away at the same doomed hull. After performing her nameless exploit, the +Alliance sailed away, and did no more. She was like the great fire of London, +breaking out on the heel of the great Plague. By this time, the Richard had so +many shot-holes low down in her hull, that like a sieve she began to settle. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you strike?” cried the English captain. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not yet begun to fight,” howled sinking Paul. +</p> + +<p> +This summons and response were whirled on eddies of smoke and flame. Both +vessels were now on fire. The men of either knew hardly which to do; strive to +destroy the enemy, or save themselves. In the midst of this, one hundred human +beings, hitherto invisible strangers, were suddenly added to the rest. Five +score English prisoners, till now confined in the Richard’s hold, +liberated in his consternation by the master at arms, burst up the hatchways. +One of them, the captain of a letter of marque, captured by Paul, off the +Scottish coast, crawled through a port, as a burglar through a window, from the +one ship to the other, and reported affairs to the English captain. +</p> + +<p> +While Paul and his lieutenants were confronting these prisoners, the gunner, +running up from below, and not perceiving his official superiors, and deeming +them dead, believing himself now left sole surviving officer, ran to the tower +of Pisa to haul down the colors. But they were already shot down and trailing +in the water astern, like a sailor’s towing shirt. Seeing the gunner +there, groping about in the smoke, Israel asked what he wanted. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the gunner, rushing to the rail, shouted “Quarter! +quarter!” to the Serapis. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll quarter ye,” yelled Israel, smiting the gunner with the +flat of his cutlass. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you strike?” now came from the Serapis. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, aye, aye!” involuntarily cried Israel, fetching the gunner a +shower of blows. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you strike?” again was repeated from the Serapis; whose +captain, judging from the augmented confusion on board the Richard, owing to +the escape of the prisoners, and also influenced by the report made to him by +his late guest of the port-hole, doubted not that the enemy must needs be about +surrendering. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you strike?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye!—I strike <i>back</i>” roared Paul, for the first time +now hearing the summons. +</p> + +<p> +But judging this frantic response to come, like the others, from some +unauthorized source, the English captain directed his boarders to be called, +some of whom presently leaped on the Richard’s rail, but, throwing out +his tattooed arm at them, with a sabre at the end of it, Paul showed them how +boarders repelled boarders. The English retreated, but not before they had been +thinned out again, like spring radishes, by the unfaltering fire from the +Richard’s tops. +</p> + +<p> +An officer of the Richard, seeing the mass of prisoners delirious with sudden +liberty and fright, pricked them with his sword to the pumps, thus keeping the +ship afloat by the very blunder which had promised to have been fatal. The +vessels now blazed so in the rigging that both parties desisted from +hostilities to subdue the common foe. +</p> + +<p> +When some faint order was again restored upon the Richard her chances of +victory increased, while those of the English, driven under cover, +proportionably waned. Early in the contest, Paul, with his own hand, had +brought one of his largest guns to bear against the enemy’s mainmast. +That shot had hit. The mast now plainly tottered. Nevertheless, it seemed as +if, in this fight, neither party could be victor. Mutual obliteration from the +face of the waters seemed the only natural sequel to hostilities like these. It +is, therefore, honor to him as a man, and not reproach to him as an officer, +that, to stay such carnage, Captain Pearson, of the Serapis, with his own hands +hauled down his colors. But just as an officer from the Richard swung himself +on board the Serapis, and accosted the English captain, the first lieutenant of +the Serapis came up from below inquiring whether the Richard had struck, since +her fire had ceased. +</p> + +<p> +So equal was the conflict that, even after the surrender, it could be, and was, +a question to one of the warriors engaged (who had not happened to see the +English flag hauled down) whether the Serapis had struck to the Richard, or the +Richard to the Serapis. Nay, while the Richard’s officer was still +amicably conversing with the English captain, a midshipman of the Richard, in +act of following his superior on board the surrendered vessel, was run through +the thigh by a pike in the hand of an ignorant boarder of the Serapis. While, +equally ignorant, the cannons below deck were still thundering away at the +nominal conqueror from the batteries of the nominally conquered ship. +</p> + +<p> +But though the Serapis had submitted, there were two misanthropical foes on +board the Richard which would not so easily succumb—fire and water. All +night the victors were engaged in suppressing the flames. Not until daylight +were the flames got under; but though the pumps were kept continually going, +the water in the hold still gained. A few hours after sunrise the Richard was +deserted for the Serapis and the other vessels of the squadron of Paul. About +ten o’clock the Richard, gorged with slaughter, wallowed heavily, gave a +long roll, and blasted by tornadoes of sulphur, slowly sunk, like Gomorrah, out +of sight. +</p> + +<p> +The loss of life in the two ships was about equal; one-half of the total number +of those engaged being either killed or wounded. +</p> + +<p> +In view of this battle one may ask—What separates the enlightened man +from the savage? Is civilization a thing distinct, or is it an advanced stage +of barbarism? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0020"></a> +CHAPTER XX.<br/> +THE SHUTTLE.</h2> + +<p> +For a time back, across the otherwise blue-jean career of Israel, Paul Jones +flits and re-flits like a crimson thread. One more brief intermingling of it, +and to the plain old homespun we return. +</p> + +<p> +The battle won, the squadron started for the Texel, where they arrived in +safety. Omitting all mention of intervening harassments, suffice it, that after +some months of inaction as to anything of a warlike nature, Paul and Israel +(both, from different motives, eager to return to America) sailed for that +country in the armed ship Ariel, Paul as commander, Israel as quartermaster. +</p> + +<p> +Two weeks out, they encountered by night a frigate-like craft, supposed to be +an enemy. The vessels came within hail, both showing English colors, with +purposes of mutual deception, affecting to belong to the English Navy. For an +hour, through their speaking trumpets, the captains equivocally conversed. A +very reserved, adroit, hoodwinking, statesman-like conversation, indeed. At +last, professing some little incredulity as to the truthfulness of the +stranger’s statement, Paul intimated a desire that he should put out a +boat and come on board to show his commission, to which the stranger very +affably replied, that unfortunately his boat was exceedingly leaky. With equal +politeness, Paul begged him to consider the danger attending a refusal, which +rejoinder nettled the other, who suddenly retorted that he would answer for +twenty guns, and that both himself and men were knock-down Englishmen. Upon +this, Paul said that he would allow him exactly five minutes for a sober, +second thought. That brief period passed, Paul, hoisting the American colors, +ran close under the other ship’s stern, and engaged her. It was about +eight o’clock at night that this strange quarrel was picked in the middle +of the ocean. Why cannot men be peaceable on that great common? Or does nature +in those fierce night-brawlers, the billows, set mankind but a sorry example? +</p> + +<p> +After ten minutes’ cannonading, the stranger struck, shouting out that +half his men were killed. The Ariel’s crew hurrahed. Boarders were called +to take possession. At this juncture, the prize shifting her position so that +she headed away, and to leeward of the Ariel, thrust her long spanker-boom +diagonally over the latter’s quarter; when Israel, who was standing close +by, instinctively caught hold of it—just as he had grasped the jib-boom +of the Serapis—and, at the same moment, hearing the call to take +possession, in the valiant excitement of the occasion, he leaped upon the spar, +and made a rush for the stranger’s deck, thinking, of course, that he +would be immediately followed by the regular boarders. But the sails of the +strange ship suddenly filled; she began to glide through the sea; her +spanker-boom, not having at all entangled itself, offering no hindrance. +Israel, clinging midway along the boom, soon found himself divided from the +Ariel by a space impossible to be leaped. Meantime, suspecting foul play, Paul +set every sail; but the stranger, having already the advantage, contrived to +make good her escape, though perseveringly chased by the cheated conqueror. +</p> + +<p> +In the confusion, no eye had observed our hero’s spring. But, as the +vessels separated more, an officer of the strange ship spying a man on the +boom, and taking him for one of his own men, demanded what he did there. +</p> + +<p> +“Clearing the signal halyards, sir,” replied Israel, fumbling with +the cord which happened to be dangling near by. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, bear a hand and come in, or you will have a bow-chaser at you +soon,” referring to the bow guns of the Ariel. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, aye, sir,” said Israel, and in a moment he sprang to the +deck, and soon found himself mixed in among some two hundred English sailors of +a large letter of marque. At once he perceived that the story of half the crew +being killed was a mere hoax, played off for the sake of making an escape. +Orders were continually being given to pull on this and that rope, as the ship +crowded all sail in flight. To these orders Israel, with the rest, promptly +responded, pulling at the rigging stoutly as the best of them; though Heaven +knows his heart sunk deeper and deeper at every pull which thus helped once +again to widen the gulf between him and home. +</p> + +<p> +In intervals he considered with himself what to do. Favored by the obscurity of +the night and the number of the crew, and wearing much the same dress as +theirs, it was very easy to pass himself off for one of them till morning. But +daylight would be sure to expose him, unless some cunning, plan could be hit +upon. If discovered for what he was, nothing short of a prison awaited him upon +the ship’s arrival in port. +</p> + +<p> +It was a desperate case, only as desperate a remedy could serve. One thing was +sure, he could not hide. Some audacious parade of himself promised the only +hope. Marking that the sailors, not being of the regular navy, wore no uniform, +and perceiving that his jacket was the only garment on him which bore any +distinguishing badge, our adventurer took it off, and privily dropped it +overboard, remaining now in his dark blue woollen shirt and blue cloth +waistcoat. +</p> + +<p> +What the more inspirited Israel to the added step now contemplated, was the +circumstance that the ship was not a Frenchman’s or other foreigner, but +her crew, though enemies, spoke the same language that he did. +</p> + +<p> +So very quietly, at last, he goes aloft into the maintop, and sitting down on +an old sail there, beside some eight or ten topmen, in an off-handed way asks +one for tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +“Give us a quid, lad,” as he settled himself in his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Halloo,” said the strange sailor, “who be you? Get out of +the top! The fore and mizzentop men won’t let us go into their tops, and +blame me if we’ll let any of their gangs come here. So, away ye +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re blind, or crazy, old boy,” rejoined Israel. +“I’m a topmate; ain’t I, lads?” appealing to the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s only ten maintopmen belonging to our watch; if you are +one, then there’ll be eleven,” said a second sailor. “Get out +of the top!” +</p> + +<p> +“This is too bad, maties,” cried Israel, “to serve an old +topmate this way. Come, come, you are foolish. Give us a quid.” And, once +more, with the utmost sociability, he addressed the sailor next to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Look ye,” returned the other, “if you don’t make away +with yourself, you skulking spy from the mizzen, we’ll drop you to deck +like a jewel-block.” +</p> + +<p> +Seeing the party thus resolute, Israel, with some affected banter, descended. +</p> + +<p> +The reason why he had tried the scheme—and, spite of the foregoing +failure, meant to repeat it—was this: As customary in armed ships, the +men were in companies allotted to particular places and functions. Therefore, +to escape final detection, Israel must some way get himself recognized as +belonging to some one of those bands; otherwise, as an isolated nondescript, +discovery ere long would be certain, especially upon the next general muster. +To be sure, the hope in question was a forlorn sort of hope, but it was his +sole one, and must therefore be tried. +</p> + +<p> +Mixing in again for a while with the general watch, he at last goes on the +forecastle among the sheet-anchor-men there, at present engaged in critically +discussing the merits of the late valiant encounter, and expressing their +opinion that by daybreak the enemy in chase would be hull-down out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure she will,” cried Israel, joining in with the group, +“old ballyhoo that she is, to be sure. But didn’t we pepper her, +lads? Give us a chew of tobacco, one of ye. How many have we wounded, do ye +know? None killed that I’ve heard of. Wasn’t that a fine hoax we +played on ’em? Ha! ha! But give us a chew.” +</p> + +<p> +In the prodigal fraternal patriotism of the moment, one of the old worthies +freely handed his plug to our adventurer, who, helping himself, returned it, +repeating the question as to the killed and wounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said he of the plug, “Jack Jewboy told me, just now, +that there’s only seven men been carried down to the surgeon, but not a +soul killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, boys, good!” cried Israel, moving up to one of the +gun-carriages, where three or four men were sitting—“slip along, +chaps, slip along, and give a watchmate a seat with ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“All full here, lad; try the next gun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Boys, clear a place here,”, said Israel, advancing, like one of +the family, to that gun. +</p> + +<p> +“Who the devil are <i>you</i>, making this row here?” demanded a +stern-looking old fellow, captain of the forecastle, “seems to me you +make considerable noise. Are you a forecastleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“If the bowsprit belongs here, so do I,” rejoined Israel, +composedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s look at ye, then!” and seizing a battle-lantern, +before thrust under a gun, the old veteran came close to Israel before he had +time to elude the scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“Take that!” said his examiner, and fetching Israel a terrible +thump, pushed him ignominiously off the forecastle as some unknown interloper +from distant parts of the ship. +</p> + +<p> +With similar perseverance of effrontery, Israel tried other quarters of the +vessel. But with equal ill success. Jealous with the spirit of class, no social +circle would receive him. As a last resort, he dived down among the +<i>holders</i>. +</p> + +<p> +A group of them sat round a lantern, in the dark bowels of the ship, like a +knot of charcoal burners in a pine forest at midnight. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, boys, what’s the good word?” said Israel, advancing +very cordially, but keeping as much as possible in the shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“The good word is,” rejoined a censorious old <i>holder</i>, +“that you had best go where you belong—on deck—and not be a +skulking down here where you <i>don’t</i> belong. I suppose this is the +way you skulked during the fight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re growly to-night, shipmate,” said Israel, +pleasantly—“supper sits hard on your conscience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of the hold with ye,” roared the other. “On deck, or +I’ll call the master-at-arms.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more Israel decamped. +</p> + +<p> +Sorely against his grain, as a final effort to blend himself openly with the +crew, he now went among the <i>waisters</i>: the vilest caste of an armed +ship’s company, mere dregs and settlings—sea-Pariahs, comprising +all the lazy, all the inefficient, all the unfortunate and fated, all the +melancholy, all the infirm, all the rheumatical scamps, scapegraces, ruined +prodigal sons, sooty faces, and swineherds of the crew, not excluding those +with dismal wardrobes. +</p> + +<p> +An unhappy, tattered, moping row of them sat along dolefully on the gun-deck, +like a parcel of crest-fallen buzzards, exiled from civilized society. +</p> + +<p> +“Cheer up, lads,” said Israel, in a jovial tone, +“homeward-bound, you know. Give us a seat among ye, friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sit on your head!” answered a sullen fellow in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, no growling; we’re homeward-bound. Whoop, my +hearties!” +</p> + +<p> +“Workhouse bound, you mean,” grumbled another sorry chap, in a +darned shirt. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, boys, don’t be down-hearted. Let’s keep up our spirits. +Sing us a song, one of ye, and I’ll give the chorus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sing if ye like, but I’ll plug my ears, for one,” said still +another sulky varlet, with the toes out of his sea-boots, while all the rest +with one roar of misanthropy joined him. +</p> + +<p> +But Israel, riot to be daunted, began: +</p> + +<p> +“‘Cease, rude Boreas, cease your growling!’” +</p> + +<p> +“And you cease your squeaking, will ye?” cried a fellow in a banged +tarpaulin. “Did ye get a ball in the windpipe, that ye cough that way, +worse nor a broken-nosed old bellows? Have done with your groaning, it’s +worse nor the death-rattle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Boys, is this the way you treat a watchmate” demanded Israel +reproachfully, “trying to cheer up his friends? Shame on ye, boys. Come, +let’s be sociable. Spin us a yarn, one of ye. Meantime, rub my back for +me, another,” and very confidently he leaned against his neighbor. +</p> + +<p> +“Lean off me, will ye?” roared his friend, shoving him away. +</p> + +<p> +“But who <i>is</i> this ere singing, leaning, yarn-spinning chap? Who are +ye? Be you a waister, or be you not?” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, one of this peevish, sottish band staggered close up to Israel. But +there was a deck above and a deck below, and the lantern swung in the distance. +It was too dim to see with critical exactness. +</p> + +<p> +“No such singing chap belongs to our gang, that’s flat,” he +dogmatically exclaimed at last, after an ineffectual scrutiny. “Sail out +of this!” +</p> + +<p> +And with a shove once more, poor Israel was ejected. +</p> + +<p> +Blackballed out of every club, he went disheartened on deck. So long, while +light screened him at least, as he contented himself with promiscuously +circulating, all was safe; it was the endeavor to fraternize with any one set +which was sure to endanger him. At last, wearied out, he happened to find +himself on the berth deck, where the watch below were slumbering. Some hundred +and fifty hammocks were on that deck. Seeing one empty, he leaped in, thinking +luck might yet some way befriend him. Here, at last, the sultry confinement put +him fast asleep. He was wakened by a savage whiskerando of the other watch, +who, seizing him by his waistband, dragged him most indecorously out, furiously +denouncing him for a skulker. +</p> + +<p> +Springing to his feet, Israel perceived from the crowd and tumult of the berth +deck, now all alive with men leaping into their hammocks, instead of being full +of sleepers quietly dosing therein, that the watches were changed. Going above, +he renewed in various quarters his offers of intimacy with the fresh men there +assembled; but was successively repulsed as before. At length, just as day was +breaking, an irascible fellow whose stubborn opposition our adventurer had long +in vain sought to conciliate—this man suddenly perceiving, by the gray +morning light, that Israel had somehow an alien sort of general look, very +savagely pressed him for explicit information as to who he might be. The +answers increased his suspicion. Others began to surround the two. Presently, +quite a circle was formed. Sailors from distant parts of the ship drew near. +One, and then another, and another, declared that they, in their quarters, too, +had been molested by a vagabond claiming fraternity, and seeking to palm +himself off upon decent society. In vain Israel protested. The truth, like the +day, dawned clearer and clearer. More and more closely he was scanned. At +length the hour for having all hands on deck arrived; when the other watch +which Israel had first tried, reascending to the deck, and hearing the matter +in discussion, they endorsed the charge of molestation and attempted imposture +through the night, on the part of some person unknown, but who, likely enough, +was the strange man now before them. In the end, the master-at-arms appeared +with his bamboo, who, summarily collaring poor Israel, led him as a mysterious +culprit to the officer of the deck, which gentleman having heard the charge, +examined him in great perplexity, and, saying that he did not at all recognize +that countenance, requested the junior officers to contribute their scrutiny. +But those officers were equally at fault. +</p> + +<p> +“Who the deuce <i>are</i> you?” at last said the +officer-of-the-deck, in added bewilderment. “Where did you come from? +What’s your business? Where are you stationed? What’s your name? +Who are you, any way? How did you get here? and where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” replied Israel very humbly, “I am going to my regular +duty, if you will but let me. I belong to the maintop, and ought to be now +engaged in preparing the topgallant stu’n’-sail for +hoisting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Belong to the maintop? Why, these men here say you have been trying to +belong to the foretop, and the mizzentop, and the forecastle, and the hold, and +the waist, and every other part of the ship. This is extraordinary,” he +added, turning upon the junior officers. +</p> + +<p> +“He must be out of his mind,” replied one of them, the +sailing-master. +</p> + +<p> +“Out of his mind?” rejoined the officer-of-the-deck. +“He’s out of all reason; out of all men’s knowledge and +memories! Why, no one knows him; no one has ever seen him before; no +imagination, in the wildest flight of a morbid nightmare, has ever so much as +dreamed of him. Who <i>are</i> you?” he again added, fierce with +amazement. “What’s your name? Are you down in the ship’s +books, or at all in the records of nature?” +</p> + +<p> +“My name, sir, is Peter Perkins,” said Israel, thinking it most +prudent to conceal his real appellation. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I never heard that name before. Pray, see if Peter Perkins is +down on the quarter-bills,” he added to a midshipman. “Quick, bring +the book here.” +</p> + +<p> +Having received it, he ran his fingers along the columns, and dashing down the +book, declared that no such name was there. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not down, sir. There is no Peter Perkins here. Tell me at once +who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“It might be, sir,” said Israel, gravely, “that seeing I +shipped under the effects of liquor, I might, out of absent-mindedness like, +have given in some other person’s name instead of my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what name have you gone by among your shipmates since you’ve +been aboard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Peter Perkins, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this the officer turned to the men around, inquiring whether the name of +Peter Perkins was familiar to them as that of a shipmate. One and all answered +no. +</p> + +<p> +“This won’t do, sir,” now said the officer. “You see it +won’t do. Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“A poor persecuted fellow at your service, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Who</i> persecutes you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Every one, sir. All hands seem to be against me; none of them willing to +remember me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” demanded the officer earnestly, “how long do you +remember yourself? Do you remember yesterday morning? You must have come into +existence by some sort of spontaneous combustion in the hold. Or were you fired +aboard from the enemy, last night, in a cartridge? Do you remember +yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was you doing yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, for one thing, I believe I had the honor of a little talk +with yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“With <i>me</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; about nine o’clock in the morning—the sea being +smooth and the ship running, as I should think, about seven knots—you +came up into the maintop, where I belong, and was pleased to ask my opinion +about the best way to set a topgallant stu’n’-sail.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s mad! He’s mad!” said the officer, with delirious +conclusiveness. “Take him away, take him away, take him away—put +him somewhere, master-at-arms. Stay, one test more. What mess do you belong +to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Number 12, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Tidds,” to a midshipman, “send mess No. 12 to the +mast.” +</p> + +<p> +Ten sailors replied to the summons, and arranged themselves before Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Men, does this man belong to your mess?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; never saw him before this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are those men’s names?” he demanded of Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, I am so intimate with all of them,” looking upon them +with a kindly glance, “I never call them by their real names, but by +nicknames. So, never using their real names, I have forgotten them. The +nicknames that I know, them by, are Towser, Bowser, Rowser, Snowser.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough. Mad as a March hare. Take him away. Hold,” again added the +officer, whom some strange fascination still bound to the bootless +investigation. “What’s <i>my</i> name, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, sir, one of my messmates here called you Lieutenant Williamson, +just now, and I never heard you called by any other name.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s method in his madness,” thought the officer to +himself. “What’s the captain’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, sir, when we spoke the enemy, last night, I heard him say, through +his trumpet, that he was Captain Parker; and very likely he knows his own +name.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have you now. That ain’t the captain’s real name.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s the best judge himself, sir, of what his name is, I should +think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were it not,” said the officer, now turning gravely upon his +juniors, “were it not that such a supposition were on other grounds +absurd, I should certainly conclude that this man, in some unknown way, got on +board here from the enemy last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could he, sir?” asked the sailing-master. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven knows. But our spanker-boom geared the other ship, you know, in +manoeuvring to get headway.” +</p> + +<p> +“But supposing he <i>could</i> have got here that fashion, which is quite +impossible under all the circumstances, what motive could have induced him +voluntarily to jump among enemies?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him answer for himself,” said the officer, turning suddenly +upon Israel, with the view of taking him off his guard, by the matter of course +assumption of the very point at issue. +</p> + +<p> +“Answer, sir. Why did you jump on board here, last night, from the +enemy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jump on board, sir, from the enemy? Why, sir, my station at general +quarters is at gun No. 3, of the lower deck, here.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s cracked—or else I am turned—or all the world +is;—take him away!” +</p> + +<p> +“But where am I to take him, sir?” said the master-at-arms. +“He don’t seem to belong anywhere, sir. Where—where am I to +take him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take him-out of sight,” said the officer, now incensed with his +own perplexity. “Take him out of sight, I say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come along, then, my ghost,” said the master-at-arms. And, +collaring the phantom, he led it hither and thither, not knowing exactly what +to do with it. +</p> + +<p> +Some fifteen minutes passed, when the captain coming from his cabin, and +observing the master-at-arms leading Israel about in this indefinite style, +demanded the reason of that procedure, adding that it was against his express +orders for any new and degrading punishments to be invented for his men. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, master-at-arms. To what end do you lead that man +about?” +</p> + +<p> +“To no end in the world, sir. I keep leading him about because he has no +final destination.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Officer-of-the-deck, what does this mean? Who is this strange man? I +don’t know that I remember him. Who is he? And what is signified by his +being led about?” +</p> + +<p> +Hereupon the officer-of-the-deck, throwing himself into a tragical posture, set +forth the entire mystery; much to the captain’s astonishment, who at once +indignantly turned upon the phantom. +</p> + +<p> +“You rascal—don’t try to deceive me. Who are you? and where +did you come from last?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, my name is Peter Perkins, and I last came from the forecastle, +where the master-at-arms last led me, before coming here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No joking, sir, no joking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I’m sure it’s too serious a business to joke +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you have the assurance to say, that you, as a regularly shipped man, +have been on board this vessel ever since she sailed from Falmouth, ten months +ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, anxious to secure a berth under so good a commander, I was among +the first to enlist.” +</p> + +<p> +“What ports have we touched at, sir?” said the captain, now in a +little softer tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Ports, sir, ports?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, <i>ports</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Israel began to scratch his yellow hair. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>ports</i>, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir:—Boston, for one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right there,” whispered a midshipman. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the next port, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, sir, I was saying Boston was the <i>first</i> port, I believe; +wasn’t it?—and”— +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>second</i> port, sir, is what I want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right again,” whispered the midshipman. +</p> + +<p> +“And what port are we bound to, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see—homeward-bound—Falmouth, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a place is Boston?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty considerable of a place, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very straight streets, ain’t they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; cow-paths, cut by sheep-walks, and intersected with +hen-tracks.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did we fire the first gun?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, just as we were leaving Falmouth, ten months +ago—signal-gun, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did we fire the first <i>shotted</i> gun, sir?—and what was +the name of the privateer we took upon that occasion?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Pears to me, sir, at that time I was on the sick list. Yes, sir, +that must have been the time; I had the brain fever, and lost my mind for a +while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Master-at-arms, take this man away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where shall I take him, sir?” touching his cap. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, and air him on the forecastle.” +</p> + +<p> +So they resumed their devious wanderings. At last, they descended to the +berth-deck. It being now breakfast-time, the master-at-arms, a good-humored +man, very kindly’ introduced our hero to his mess, and presented him with +breakfast, during which he in vain endeavored, by all sorts of subtle +blandishments, to worm out his secret. +</p> + +<p> +At length Israel was set at liberty; and whenever there was any important duty +to be done, volunteered to it with such cheerful alacrity, and approved himself +so docile and excellent a seaman, that he conciliated the approbation of all +the officers, as well as the captain; while his general sociability served, in +the end, to turn in his favor the suspicious hearts of the mariners. Perceiving +his good qualities, both as a sailor and man, the captain of the maintop +applied for his admission into that section of the ship; where, still improving +upon his former reputation, our hero did duty for the residue of the voyage. +</p> + +<p> +One pleasant afternoon, the last of the passage, when the ship was nearing the +Lizard, within a few hours’ sail of her port, the officer-of-the-deck, +happening to glance upwards towards the maintop, descried Israel there, leaning +very leisurely over the rail, looking mildly down where the officer stood. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Peter Perkins, you seem to belong to the maintop, after +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I always told you so, sir,” smiled Israel benevolently down upon +him, “though, at first, you remember, sir, you would not believe +it.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0021"></a> +CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +SAMSON AMONG THE PHILISTINES.</h2> + +<p> +At length, as the ship, gliding on past three or four vessels at anchor in the +roadstead—one, a man-of-war just furling her sails—came nigh +Falmouth town, Israel, from his perch, saw crowds in violent commotion on the +shore, while the adjacent roofs were covered with sightseers. A large +man-of-war cutter was just landing its occupants, among whom were a +corporal’s guard and three officers, besides the naval lieutenant and +boat’s crew. Some of this company having landed, and formed a sort of +lane among the mob, two trim soldiers, armed to the teeth, rose in the +stern-sheets; and between them, a martial man of Patagonian stature, their +ragged and handcuffed captive, whose defiant head overshadowed theirs, as St. +Paul’s dome its inferior steeples. Immediately the mob raised a shout, +pressing in curiosity towards the colossal stranger; so that, drawing their +swords, four of the soldiers had to force a passage for their comrades, who +followed on, conducting the giant. +</p> + +<p> +As the letter of marque drew still nigher, Israel heard the officer in command +of the party ashore shouting, “To the castle! to the castle!” and +so, surrounded by shouting throngs, the company moved on, preceded by the three +drawn swords, ever and anon flourished at the rioters, towards a large grim +pile on a cliff about a mile from the landing. Long as they were in sight, the +bulky form of the captive was seen at times swayingly towering over the +flashing bayonets and cutlasses, like a great whale breaching amid a hostile +retinue of sword-fish. Now and then, too, with barbaric scorn, he taunted them +with cramped gestures of his manacled hands. +</p> + +<p> +When at last the vessel had gained her anchorage, opposite a distant detached +warehouse, all was still; and the work of breaking out in the hold immediately +commencing, and continuing till nightfall, absorbed all further attention for +the present. +</p> + +<p> +Next day was Sunday; and about noon Israel, with others, was allowed to go +ashore for a stroll. The town was quiet. Seeing nothing very interesting there, +he passed out, alone, into the fields alongshore, and presently found himself +climbing the cliff whereon stood the grim pile before spoken of. +</p> + +<p> +“What place is yon?” he asked of a rustic passing. +</p> + +<p> +“Pendennis Castle.” +</p> + +<p> +As he stepped upon the short crisp sward under its walls, he started at a +violent sound from within, as of the roar of some tormented lion. Soon the +sound became articulate, and he heard the following words bayed out with an +amazing vigor: +</p> + +<p> +“Brag no more, Old England; consider you are but an island! Order back +your broken battalions! home, and repent in ashes! Long enough have your hired +tories across the sea forgotten the Lord their God, and bowed down to Howe and +Kniphausen—the Hessian!—Hands off, red-skinned jackal! Wearing the +king’s plate,<a href="#fn1" name="fnref1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> as I do, I +have treasures of wrath against you British.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1"></a> <a href="#fnref1">[1]</a> +Meaning, probably, certain manacles. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a clanking, as of a chain; many vengeful sounds, all confusedly +together; with strugglings. Then again the voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Ye brought me out here, from my dungeon to this green—affronting +yon Sabbath sun—to see how a rebel looks. But I show ye how a true +gentleman and Christian can conduct in adversity. Back, dogs! Respect a +gentleman and a Christian, though he <i>be</i> in rags and smell of +bilge-water.” +</p> + +<p> +Filled with astonishment at these words, which came from over a massive wall, +enclosing what seemed an open parade-space, Israel pressed forward, and soon +came to a black archway, leading far within, underneath, to a grassy tract, +through a tower. Like two boar’s tusks, two sentries stood on guard at +either side of the open jaws of the arch. Scrutinizing our adventurer a moment, +they signed him permission to enter. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the end of the arched-way, where the sun shone, Israel stood +transfixed, at the scene. +</p> + +<p> +Like some baited bull in the ring, crouched the Patagonian-looking captive, +handcuffed as before; the grass of the green trampled, and gored up all about +him, both by his own movements and those of the people around. Except some +soldiers and sailors, these seemed mostly townspeople, collected here out of +curiosity. The stranger was outlandishly arrayed in the sorry remains of a +half-Indian, half-Canadian sort of a dress, consisting of a fawn-skin +jacket—the fur outside and hanging in ragged tufts—a half-rotten, +bark-like belt of wampum; aged breeches of sagathy; bedarned worsted stockings +to the knee; old moccasins riddled with holes, their metal tags yellow with +salt-water rust; a faded red woollen bonnet, not unlike a Russian night-cap, or +a portentous, ensanguined full- moon, all soiled, and stuck about with bits of +half-rotted straw. He seemed just broken from the dead leases in David’s +outlawed Cave of Adullam. Unshaven, beard and hair matted, and profuse as a +corn-field beaten down by hailstorms, his whole marred aspect was that of some +wild beast; but of a royal sort, and unsubdued by the cage. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, stare, stare! Though but last night dragged out of a ship’s +hold, like a smutty tierce; and this morning out of your littered barracks +here, like a murderer; for all that, you may well stare at Ethan Ticonderoga +Allen, the unconquered soldier, by ——! You Turks never saw a +Christian before. Stare on! I am he, who, when your Lord Howe wanted to bribe a +patriot to fall down and worship him by an offer of a major-generalship and +five thousand acres of choice land in old Vermont—(Ha! three-times-three +for glorious old Vermont, and my Green-Mountain boys! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!) +I am he, I say, who answered your Lord Howe, ‘You, <i>you</i> offer +<i>our</i> land? You are like the devil in Scripture, offering all the kingdoms +in the world, when the d——d soul had not a corner-lot on earth! +Stare on!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Look you, rebel, you had best heed how you talk against General Lord +Howe,” here said a thin, wasp-waisted, epauletted officer of the castle, +coming near and flourishing his sword like a schoolmaster’s ferule. +</p> + +<p> +“General Lord Howe? Heed how I talk of that toad-hearted king’s +lick-spittle of a scarlet poltroon; the vilest wriggler in God’s +worm-hole below? I tell you, that herds of red-haired devils are impatiently +snorting to ladle Lord Howe with all his gang (you included) into the +seethingest syrups of tophet’s flames!” +</p> + +<p> +At this blast, the wasp-waisted officer was blown backwards as from before the +suddenly burst head of a steam-boiler. +</p> + +<p> +Staggering away, with a snapped spine, he muttered something about its being +beneath his dignity to bandy further words with a low-lived rebel. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Colonel Allen,” here said a mild-looking man in a sort +of clerical undress, “respect the day better than to talk thus of what +lies beyond. Were you to die this hour, or what is more probable, be hung next +week at Tower-wharf, you know not what might become, in eternity, of +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reverend Sir,” with a mocking bow, “when not better employed +braiding my beard, I have a little dabbled in your theologies. And let me tell +you, Reverend Sir,” lowering and intensifying his voice, “that as +to the world of spirits, of which you hint, though I know nothing of the mode +or manner of that world, no more than do you, yet I expect when I shall arrive +there to be treated as well as any other gentleman of my merit. That is to say, +far better than you British know how to treat an American officer and +meek-hearted Christian captured in honorable war, by ——! Every one +tells me, as you yourself just breathed, and as, crossing the sea, every billow +dinned into my ear, that I, Ethan Allen, am to be hung like a thief. If I am, +the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress shall avenge me; while I, for my +part, shall show you, even on the tree, how a Christian gentleman can die. +Meantime, sir, if you are the clergyman you look, act out your consolatory +function, by getting an unfortunate Christian gentleman about to die, a bowl of +punch.” +</p> + +<p> +The good-natured stranger, not to have his religious courtesy appealed to in +vain, immediately dispatched his servant, who stood by, to procure the +beverage. +</p> + +<p> +At this juncture, a faint rustling sound, as of the advance of an army with +banners, was heard. Silks, scarfs, and ribbons fluttered in the background. +Presently, a bright squadron of fair ladies drew nigh, escorted by certain +outriding gallants of Falmouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” sighed a soft voice, “what a strange sash, and furred +vest, and what leopard-like teeth, and what flaxen hair, but all +mildewed;—is that he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yea, is it, lovely charmer,” said Allen, like an Ottoman, bowing +over his broad, bovine forehead, and breathing the words out like a lute; +“it is he—Ethan Allen, the soldier; now, since ladies’ eyes +visit him, made trebly a captive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, he talks like a beau in a parlor, this wild, mossed American from +the woods,” sighed another fair lady to her mate; “but can this be +he we came to see? I must have a lock of his hair.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he, adorable Delilah; and fear not, even though incited by the +foe, by clipping my locks, to dwindle my strength. Give me your sword, +man,” turning to an officer:—“Ah! I’m fettered. Clip it +yourself, lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no—I am—” +</p> + +<p> +“Afraid, would you say? Afraid of the vowed friend and champion of all +ladies all round the world? Nay, nay, come hither.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady advanced; and soon, overcoming her timidity, her white hand shone like +whipped foam amid the matted waves of flaxen hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, this is like clipping tangled tags of gold-lace,” cried she; +“but see, it is half straw.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the wearer is no man-of-straw, lady; were I free, and you had ten +thousand foes—horse, foot, and dragoons—how like a friend I could +fight for you! Come, you have robbed me of my hair; let me rob your dainty hand +of its price. What, afraid again?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not that; but—” +</p> + +<p> +“I see, lady; I may do it, by your leave, but not by your word; the +wonted way of ladies. There, it is done. Sweeter that kiss, than the bitter +heart of a cherry.” +</p> + +<p> +When at length this lady left, no small talk was had by her with her companions +about someway relieving the hard lot of so knightly an unfortunate. Whereupon a +worthy, judicious gentleman, of middle- age, in attendance, suggested a bottle +of good wine every day, and clean linen once every week. And these the gentle +Englishwoman—too polite and too good to be fastidious—did indeed +actually send to Ethan Allen, so long as he tarried a captive in her land. +</p> + +<p> +The withdrawal of this company was followed by a different scene. +</p> + +<p> +A perspiring man in top-boots, a riding-whip in his hand, and having the air of +a prosperous farmer, brushed in, like a stray bullock, among the rest, for a +peep at the giant; having just entered through the arch, as the ladies passed +out. +</p> + +<p> +“Hearing that the man who took Ticonderoga was here in Pendennis Castle, +I’ve ridden twenty-five miles to see him; and to-morrow my brother will +ride forty for the same purpose. So let me have first look. Sir,” he +continued, addressing the captive, “will you let me ask you a few plain +questions, and be free with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Be free with me? With all my heart. I love freedom of all things. +I’m ready to die for freedom; I expect to. So be free as you please. What +is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, permit me to ask what is your occupation in life—in +time of peace, I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“You talk like a tax-gatherer,” rejoined Allen, squinting +diabolically at him; “what is my occupation in life? Why, in my younger +days I studied divinity, but at present I am a conjurer by profession.” +</p> + +<p> +Hereupon everybody laughed, equally at the manner as the words, and the nettled +farmer retorted: +</p> + +<p> +“Conjurer, eh? well, you conjured wrong that time you were taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so wrong, though, as you British did, that time I took Ticonderoga, +my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +At this juncture the servant came with the punch, when his master bade him +present it to the captive. +</p> + +<p> +“No!—give it me, sir, with your own hands, and pledge me as +gentleman to gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot pledge a state-prisoner, Colonel Allen; but I will hand you the +punch with my own hands, since you insist upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spoken and done like a true gentleman, sir; I am bound to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then receiving the bowl into his gyved hands, the iron ringing against the +china, he put it to his lips, and saying, “I hereby give the British +nation credit for half a minute’s good usage,” at one draught +emptied it to the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +“The rebel gulps it down like a swilling hog at a trough,” here +scoffed a lusty private of the guard, off duty. +</p> + +<p> +“Shame to you!” cried the giver of the bowl. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, sir; his red coat is a standing blush to him, as it is to the whole +scarlet-blushing British army.” Then turning derisively upon the private: +“You object to my way of taking things, do ye? I fear I shall never +please ye. You objected to the way, too, in which I took Ticonderoga, and the +way in which I meant to take Montreal. Selah! But pray, now that I look at you, +are not you the hero I caught dodging round, in his shirt, in the cattle-pen, +inside the fort? It was the break of day, you remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Yankee,” here swore the incensed private; “cease this, +or I’ll darn your old fawn-skins for ye with the flat of this +sword;” for a specimen, laying it lashwise, but not heavily, across the +captive’s back. +</p> + +<p> +Turning like a tiger, the giant, catching the steel between his teeth, wrenched +it from the private’s grasp, and striking it with his manacles, sent it +spinning like a juggler’s dagger into the air, saying, “Lay your +dirty coward’s iron on a tied gentleman again, and these,” lifting +his handcuffed fists, “shall be the beetle of mortality to you!” +</p> + +<p> +The now furious soldier would have struck him with all his force, but several +men of the town interposed, reminding him that it were outrageous to attack a +chained captive. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Allen, “I am accustomed to that, and therefore I +am beforehand with them; and the extremity of what I say against Britain, is +not meant for you, kind friends, but for my insulters, present and to +come.” Then recognizing among the interposers the giver of the bowl, he +turned with a courteous bow, saying, “Thank you again and again, my good +sir; you may not be the worse for this; ours is an unstable world; so that one +gentleman never knows when it may be his turn to be helped of another.” +</p> + +<p> +But the soldier still making a riot, and the commotion growing general, a +superior officer stepped up, who terminated the scene by remanding the prisoner +to his cell, dismissing the townspeople, with all strangers, Israel among the +rest, and closing the castle gates after them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0022"></a> +CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +SOMETHING FURTHER OF ETHAN ALLEN; WITH ISRAEL’S FLIGHT TOWARDS THE WILDERNESS.</h2> + +<p> +Among the episodes of the Revolutionary War, none is stranger than that of +Ethan Allen in England; the event and the man being equally uncommon. +</p> + +<p> +Allen seems to have been a curious combination of a Hercules, a Joe Miller, a +Bayard, and a Tom Hyer; had a person like the Belgian giants; mountain music in +him like a Swiss; a heart plump as Coeur de Lion’s. Though born in New +England, he exhibited no trace of her character. He was frank, bluff, +companionable as a Pagan, convivial, a Roman, hearty as a harvest. His spirit +was essentially Western; and herein is his peculiar Americanism; for the +Western spirit is, or will yet be (for no other is, or can be), the true +American one. +</p> + +<p> +For the most part, Allen’s manner while in England was scornful and +ferocious in the last degree; however, qualified by that wild, heroic sort of +levity, which in the hour of oppression or peril seems inseparable from a +nature like his; the mode whereby such a temper best evinces its barbaric +disdain of adversity, and how cheaply and waggishly it holds the malice, even +though triumphant, of its foes! Aside from that inevitable egotism relatively +pertaining to pine trees, spires, and giants, there were, perhaps, two special +incidental reasons for the Titanic Vermonter’s singular demeanor abroad. +Taken captive while heading a forlorn hope before Montreal, he was treated with +inexcusable cruelty and indignity; something as if he had fallen into the hands +of the Dyaks. Immediately upon his capture he would have been deliberately +suffered to have been butchered by the Indian allies in cold blood on the spot, +had he not, with desperate intrepidity, availed himself of his enormous +physical strength, by twitching a British officer to him, and using him for a +living target, whirling him round and round against the murderous tomahawks of +the savages. Shortly afterwards, led into the town, fenced about by bayonets of +the guard, the commander of the enemy, one Colonel McCloud, flourished his cane +over the captive’s head, with brutal insults promising him a +rebel’s halter at Tyburn. During his passage to England in the same ship +wherein went passenger Colonel Guy Johnson, the implacable tory, he was kept +heavily ironed in the hold, and in all ways treated as a common mutineer; or, +it may be, rather as a lion of Asia; which, though caged, was still too +dreadful to behold without fear and trembling, and consequent cruelty. And no +wonder, at least for the fear; for on one occasion, when chained hand and foot, +he was insulted on shipboard by an officer; with his teeth he twisted off the +nail that went through the mortise of his handcuffs, and so, having his arms at +liberty, challenged his insulter to combat. Often, as at Pendennis Castle, when +no other avengement was at hand, he would hurl on his foes such howling +tempests of anathema as fairly to shock them into retreat. Prompted by somewhat +similar motives, both on shipboard and in England, he would often make the most +vociferous allusions to Ticonderoga, and the part he played in its capture, +well knowing, that of all American names, Ticonderoga was, at that period, by +far the most famous and galling to Englishmen. +</p> + +<p> +Parlor-men, dancing-masters, the graduates of the Albe Bellgarde, may shrug +their laced shoulders at the boisterousness of Allen in England. True, he stood +upon no punctilios with his jailers; for where modest gentlemanhood is all on +one side, it is a losing affair; as if my Lord Chesterfield should take off his +hat, and smile, and bow, to a mad bull, in hopes of a reciprocation of +politeness. When among wild beasts, if they menace you, be a wild beast. +Neither is it unlikely that this was the view taken by Allen. For, besides the +exasperating tendency to self-assertion which such treatment as his must have +bred on a man like him, his experience must have taught him, that by assuming +the part of a jocular, reckless, and even braggart barbarian, he would better +sustain himself against bullying turnkeys than by submissive quietude. Nor +should it be forgotten, that besides the petty details of personal malice, the +enemy violated every international usage of right and decency, in treating a +distinguished prisoner of war as if he had been a Botany-Bay convict. If, at +the present day, in any similar case between the same States, the repetition of +such outrages would be more than unlikely, it is only because it is among +nations as among individuals: imputed indigence provokes oppression and scorn; +but that same indigence being risen to opulence, receives a politic +consideration even from its former insulters. +</p> + +<p> +As the event proved, in the course Allen pursued, he was right. Because, though +at first nothing was talked of by his captors, and nothing anticipated by +himself, but his ignominious execution, or at the least, prolonged and squalid +incarceration, nevertheless, these threats and prospects evaporated, and by his +facetious scorn for scorn, under the extremest sufferings, he finally wrung +repentant usage from his foes; and in the end, being liberated from his irons, +and walking the quarter-deck where before he had been thrust into the hold, was +carried back to America, and in due time, at New York, honorably included in a +regular exchange of prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +It was not without strange interest that Israel had been an eye-witness of the +scenes on the Castle Green. Neither was this interest abated by the painful +necessity of concealing, for the present, from his brave countryman and +fellow-mountaineer, the fact of a friend being nigh. When at last the throng +was dismissed, walking towards the town with the rest, he heard that there were +some forty or more Americans, privates, confined on the cliff. Upon this, +inventing a pretence, he turned back, loitering around the walls for any chance +glimpse of the captives. Presently, while looking up at a grated embrasure in +the tower, he started at a voice from it familiarly hailing him: +</p> + +<p> +“Potter, is that you? In God’s name how came you here?” +</p> + +<p> +At these words, a sentry below had his eye on our astonished adventurer. +Bringing his piece to bear, he bade him stand. Next moment Israel was under +arrest. Being brought into the presence of the forty prisoners, where they lay +in litters of mouldy straw, strewn with gnawed bones, as in a kennel, he +recognized among them one Singles, now Sergeant Singles, the man who, upon our +hero’s return home from his last Cape Horn voyage, he had found wedded to +his mountain Jenny. Instantly a rush of emotions filled him. Not as when Damon +found Pythias. But far stranger, because very different. For not only had this +Singles been an alien to Israel (so far as actual intercourse went), but +impelled to it by instinct, Israel had all but detested him, as a successful, +and perhaps insidious rival. Nor was it altogether unlikely that Singles had +reciprocated the feeling. But now, as if the Atlantic rolled, not between two +continents, but two worlds—this, and the next—these alien souls, +oblivious to hate, melted down into one. +</p> + +<p> +At such a juncture, it was hard to maintain a disguise, especially when it +involved the seeming rejection of advances like the Sergeant’s. Still, +converting his real amazement into affected surprise, Israel, in presence of +the sentries, declared to Singles that he (Singles) must labor under some +unaccountable delusion; for he (Potter) was no Yankee rebel, thank Heaven, but +a true man to his king; in short, an honest Englishman, born in Kent, and now +serving his country, and doing what damage he might to her foes, by being first +captain of a carronade on board a letter of marque, that moment in the harbor. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the captive stood astounded, but observing Israel more narrowly, +detecting his latent look, and bethinking him of the useless peril he had +thoughtlessly caused to a countryman, no doubt unfortunate as himself, Singles +took his cue, and pretending sullenly to apologize for his error, put on a +disappointed and crest-fallen air. Nevertheless, it was not without much +difficulty, and after many supplemental scrutinies and inquisitions from a +board of officers before whom he was subsequently brought, that our wanderer +was finally permitted to quit the cliff. +</p> + +<p> +This luckless adventure not only nipped in the bud a little scheme he had been +revolving, for materially befriending Ethan Allen and his comrades, but +resulted in making his further stay at Falmouth perilous in the extreme. And as +if this were not enough, next day, while hanging over the side, painting the +hull, in trepidation of a visit from the castle soldiers, rumor came to the +ship that the man-of-war in the haven purposed impressing one-third of the +letter of marque’s crew; though, indeed, the latter vessel was preparing +for a second cruise. Being on board a private armed ship, Israel had little +dreamed of its liability to the same governmental hardships with the meanest +merchantman. But the system of impressment is no respecter either of pity or +person. +</p> + +<p> +His mind was soon determined. Unlike his shipmates, braving immediate and +lonely hazard, rather than wait for a collective and ultimate one, he cunningly +dropped himself overboard the same night, and after the narrowest risk from the +muskets of the man-of-war’s sentries (whose gangways he had to pass), +succeeded in swimming to shore, where he fell exhausted, but recovering, fled +inland, doubly hunted by the thought, that whether as an Englishman, or whether +as an American, he would, if caught, be now equally subject to enslavement. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the break of day, having gained many miles, he succeeded in +ridding himself of his seaman’s clothing, having found some mouldy old +rags on the banks of a stagnant pond, nigh a rickety building, which looked +like a poorhouse—clothing not improbably, as he surmised, left there on +the bank by some pauper suicide. Marvel not that he should with avidity seize +these rags; what the suicides abandon, the living hug. +</p> + +<p> +Once more in beggar’s garb, the fugitive sped towards London, prompted by +the same instinct which impels the hunted fox to the wilderness; for solitudes +befriend the endangered wild beast, but crowds are the security, because the +true desert, of persecuted man. Among the things of the capital, Israel for +more than forty years was yet to disappear, as one entering at dusk into a +thick wood. Nor did ever the German forest, nor Tasso’s enchanted one, +contain in its depths more things of horror than eventually were revealed in +the secret clefts, gulfs, caves and dens of London. +</p> + +<p> +But here we anticipate a page. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0023"></a> +CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +ISRAEL IN EGYPT.</h2> + +<p> +It was a gray, lowering afternoon that, worn out, half starved, and haggard, +Israel arrived within some ten or fifteen miles of London, and saw scores and +scores of forlorn men engaged in a great brickyard. +</p> + +<p> +For the most part, brickmaking is all mud and mire. Where, abroad, the business +is carried on largely, as to supply the London market, hordes of the poorest +wretches are employed, their grimy tatters naturally adapting them to an employ +where cleanliness is as much out of the question as with a drowned man at the +bottom of the lake in the Dismal Swamp. +</p> + +<p> +Desperate with want, Israel resolved to turn brickmaker, nor did he fear to +present himself as a stranger, nothing doubting that to such a vocation his +rags would be accounted the best letters of introduction. +</p> + +<p> +To be brief, he accosted one of the many surly overseers, or taskmasters of the +yard, who, with no few pompous airs, finally engaged him at six shillings a +week, almost equivalent to a dollar and a half. He was appointed to one of the +mills for grinding up the ingredients. This mill stood in the open air. It was +of a rude, primitive, Eastern aspect, consisting of a sort of hopper, emptying +into a barrel-shaped receptacle. In the barrel was a clumsy machine turned +round at its axis by a great bent beam, like a well-sweep, only it was +horizontal; to this beam, at its outer end, a spavined old horse was attached. +The muddy mixture was shovelled into the hopper by spavined-looking old men, +while, trudging wearily round and round, the spavined old horse ground it all +up till it slowly squashed out at the bottom of the barrel, in a doughy +compound, all ready for the moulds. Where the dough squeezed out of the barrel +a pit was sunken, so as to bring the moulder here stationed down to a level +with the trough, into which the dough fell. Israel was assigned to this pit. +Men came to him continually, reaching down rude wooden trays, divided into +compartments, each of the size and shape of a brick. With a flat sort of big +ladle, Israel slapped the dough into the trays from the trough; then, with a +bit of smooth board, scraped the top even, and handed it up. Half buried there +in the pit, all the time handing those desolate trays, poor Israel seemed some +gravedigger, or churchyard man, tucking away dead little innocents in their +coffins on one side, and cunningly disinterring them again to resurrectionists +stationed on the other. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty of these melancholy old mills were in operation. Twenty heartbroken old +horses, rigged out deplorably in cast-off old cart harness, incessantly tugged +at twenty great shaggy beams; while from twenty half-burst old barrels, twenty +wads of mud, with a lava-like course, gouged out into twenty old troughs, to be +slapped by twenty tattered men into the twenty-times-twenty battered old trays. +</p> + +<p> +Ere entering his pit for the first, Israel had been struck by the dismally +devil-may-care gestures of the moulders. But hardly had he himself been a +moulder three days, when his previous sedateness of concern at his unfortunate +lot, began to conform to the reckless sort of half jolly despair expressed by +the others. The truth indeed was, that this continual, violent, helter-skelter +slapping of the dough into the moulds, begat a corresponding disposition in the +moulder, who, by heedlessly slapping that sad dough, as stuff of little worth, +was thereby taught, in his meditations, to slap, with similar heedlessness, his +own sadder fortunes, as of still less vital consideration. To these muddy +philosophers, men and bricks were equally of clay. “What signifies who we +be—dukes or ditchers?” thought the moulders; “all is vanity +and clay.” +</p> + +<p> +So slap, slap, slap, care-free and negligent, with bitter unconcern, these +dismal desperadoes flapped down the dough. If this recklessness were vicious of +them, be it so; but their vice was like that weed which but grows on barren +ground; enrich the soil, and it disappears. +</p> + +<p> +For thirteen weary weeks, lorded over by the taskmaster, Israel toiled in his +pit. Though this condemned him to a sort of earthy dungeon, or +gravedigger’s hole, while he worked, yet even when liberated to his +meals, naught of a cheery nature greeted him. The yard was encamped, with all +its endless rows of tented sheds, and kilns, and mills, upon a wild waste moor, +belted round by bogs and fens. The blank horizon, like a rope, coiled round the +whole. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the air was harsh and bleak; the ridged and mottled sky looked +scourged, or cramping fogs set in from sea, for leagues around, ferreting out +each rheumatic human bone, and racking it; the sciatic limpers shivered; their +aguish rags sponged up the mists. No shelter, though it hailed. The sheds were +for the bricks. Unless, indeed, according to the phrase, each man was a +“brick,” which, in sober scripture, was the case; brick is no bad +name for any son of Adam; Eden was but a brickyard; what is a mortal but a few +luckless shovelfuls of clay, moulded in a mould, laid out on a sheet to dry, +and ere long quickened into his queer caprices by the sun? Are not men built +into communities just like bricks into a wall? Consider the great wall of +China: ponder the great populace of Pekin. As man serves bricks, so God him, +building him up by billions into edifices of his purposes. Man attains not to +the nobility of a brick, unless taken in the aggregate. Yet is there a +difference in brick, whether quick or dead; which, for the last, we now shall +see. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0024"></a> +CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +CONTINUED.</h2> + +<p> +All night long, men sat before the mouth of the kilns, feeding them with fuel. +A dull smoke—a smoke of their torments—went up from their tops. It +was curious to see the kilns under the action of the fire, gradually changing +color, like boiling lobsters. When, at last, the fires would be extinguished, +the bricks being duly baked, Israel often took a peep into the low vaulted ways +at the base, where the flaming fagots had crackled. The bricks immediately +lining the vaults would be all burnt to useless scrolls, black as charcoal, and +twisted into shapes the most grotesque; the next tier would be a little less +withered, but hardly fit for service; and gradually, as you went higher and +higher along the successive layers of the kiln, you came to the midmost ones, +sound, square, and perfect bricks, bringing the highest prices; from these the +contents of the kiln gradually deteriorated in the opposite direction, upward. +But the topmost layers, though inferior to the best, by no means presented the +distorted look of the furnace-bricks. The furnace-bricks were haggard, with the +immediate blistering of the fire—the midmost ones were ruddy with a +genial and tempered glow—the summit ones were pale with the languor of +too exclusive an exemption from the burden of the blaze. +</p> + +<p> +These kilns were a sort of temporary temples constructed in the yard, each +brick being set against its neighbor almost with the care taken by the mason. +But as soon as the fire was extinguished, down came the kiln in a tumbled ruin, +carted off to London, once more to be set up in ambitious edifices, to a true +brickyard philosopher, little less transient than the kilns. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, lading out his dough, Israel could not but bethink him of what +seemed enigmatic in his fate. He whom love of country made a hater of her +foes—the foreigners among whom he now was thrown—he who, as +soldier and sailor, had joined to kill, burn and destroy both them and +theirs—here he was at last, serving that very people as a slave, better +succeeding in making their bricks than firing their ships. To think that he +should be thus helping, with all his strength, to extend the walls of the +Thebes of the oppressor, made him half mad. Poor Israel! +well-named—bondsman in the English Egypt. But he drowned the thought by +still more recklessly spattering with his ladle: “What signifies who we +be, or where we are, or what we do?” Slap-dash! “Kings as clowns +are codgers—who ain’t a nobody?” Splash! “All is vanity +and clay.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0025"></a> +CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +IN THE CITY OF DIS.</h2> + +<p> +At the end of his brickmaking, our adventurer found himself with a tolerable +suit of clothes—somewhat darned—on his back, several blood-blisters +in his palms, and some verdigris coppers in his pocket. Forthwith, to seek his +fortune, he proceeded on foot to the capital, entering, like the king, from +Windsor, from the Surrey side. +</p> + +<p> +It was late on a Monday morning, in November—a Blue Monday—a Fifth +of November—Guy Fawkes’ Day!—very blue, foggy, doleful and +gunpowdery, indeed, as shortly will be seen, that Israel found himself wedged +in among the greatest everyday crowd which grimy London presents to the curious +stranger: that hereditary crowd—gulf-stream of humanity—which, for +continuous centuries, has never ceased pouring, like an endless shoal of +herring, over London Bridge. +</p> + +<p> +At the period here written of, the bridge, specifically known by that name, was +a singular and sombre pile, built by a cowled monk—Peter of +Colechurch—some five hundred years before. Its arches had long been +crowded at the sides with strange old rookeries of disproportioned and toppling +height, converting the bridge at once into the most densely occupied ward and +most jammed thoroughfare of the town, while, as the skulls of bullocks are hung +out for signs to the gateways of shambles, so the withered heads and smoked +quarters of traitors, stuck on pikes, long crowned the Southwark entrance. +</p> + +<p> +Though these rookeries, with their grisly heraldry, had been pulled down some +twenty years prior to the present visit, still enough of grotesque and +antiquity clung to the structure at large to render it the most striking of +objects, especially to one like our hero, born in a virgin clime, where the +only antiquities are the forever youthful heavens and the earth. +</p> + +<p> +On his route from Brentford to Paris, Israel had passed through the capital, +but only as a courier; so that now, for the first time, he had time to linger, +and loiter, and lounge—slowly absorb what he saw—meditate himself +into boundless amazement. For forty years he never recovered from that +surprise—never, till dead, had done with his wondering. +</p> + +<p> +Hung in long, sepulchral arches of stone, the black, besmoked bridge seemed a +huge scarf of crape, festooning the river across. Similar funeral festoons +spanned it to the west, while eastward, towards the sea, tiers and tiers of +jetty colliers lay moored, side by side, fleets of black swans. +</p> + +<p> +The Thames, which far away, among the green fields of Berks, ran clear as a +brook, here, polluted by continual vicinity to man, curdled on between rotten +wharves, one murky sheet of sewerage. Fretted by the ill-built piers, awhile it +crested and hissed, then shot balefully through the Erebus arches, desperate as +the lost souls of the harlots, who, every night, took the same plunge. +Meantime, here and there, like awaiting hearses, the coal-scows drifted along, +poled broadside, pell-mell to the current. +</p> + +<p> +And as that tide in the water swept all craft on, so a like tide seemed +hurrying all men, all horses, all vehicles on the land. As ant-hills, the +bridge arches crawled with processions of carts, coaches, drays, every sort of +wheeled, rumbling thing, the noses of the horses behind touching the backs of +the vehicles in advance, all bespattered with ebon mud—ebon mud that +stuck like Jews’ pitch. At times the mass, receiving some mysterious +impulse far in the rear, away among the coiled thoroughfares out of sight, +would, start forward with a spasmodic surge. It seemed as if some squadron of +centaurs, on the thither side of Phlegethon, with charge on charge, was driving +tormented humanity, with all its chattels, across. +</p> + +<p> +Whichever way the eye turned, no tree, no speck of any green thing was +seen—no more than in smithies. All laborers, of whatsoever sort, were +hued like the men in foundries. The black vistas of streets were as the +galleries in coal mines; the flagging, as flat tomb-stones, minus the +consecration of moss, and worn heavily down, by sorrowful tramping, as the +vitreous rocks in the cursed Gallipagos, over which the convict tortoises +crawl. +</p> + +<p> +As in eclipses, the sun was hidden; the air darkened; the whole dull, dismayed +aspect of things, as if some neighboring volcano, belching its premonitory +smoke, were about to whelm the great town, as Herculaneum and Pompeii, or the +Cities of the Plain. And as they had been upturned in terror towards the +mountain, all faces were more or less snowed or spotted with soot. Nor marble, +nor flesh, nor the sad spirit of man, may in this cindery City of Dis abide +white. +</p> + +<p> +As retired at length, midway, in a recess of the bridge, Israel surveyed them, +various individual aspects all but frighted him. Knowing not who they were; +never destined, it may be, to behold them again; one after the other, they +drifted by, uninvoked ghosts in Hades. Some of the wayfarers wore a less +serious look; some seemed hysterically merry; but the mournful faces had an +earnestness not seen in the others: because man, “poor player,” +succeeds better in life’s tragedy than comedy. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived, in the end, on the Middlesex side, Israel’s heart was +prophetically heavy; foreknowing, that being of this race, felicity could never +be his lot. +</p> + +<p> +For five days he wandered and wandered. Without leaving statelier haunts +unvisited, he did not overlook those broader areas—hereditary parks and +manors of vice and misery. Not by constitution disposed to gloom, there was a +mysteriousness in those impulses which led him at this time to rovings like +these. But hereby stoic influences were at work, to fit him at a soon-coming +day for enacting a part in the last extremities here seen; when by sickness, +destitution, each busy ill of exile, he was destined to experience a fate, +uncommon even to luckless humanity—a fate whose crowning qualities were +its remoteness from relief and its depth of obscurity—London, adversity, +and the sea, three Armageddons, which, at one and the same time, slay and +secrete their victims. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0026"></a> +CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> +FORTY-FIVE YEARS.</h2> + +<p> +For the most part, what befell Israel during his forty years wanderings in the +London deserts, surpassed the forty years in the natural wilderness of the +outcast Hebrews under Moses. +</p> + +<p> +In that London fog, went before him the ever-present cloud by day, but no +pillar of fire by the night, except the cold column of the monument, two +hundred feet beneath the mocking gilt flames on whose top, at the stone base, +the shiverer, of midnight, often laid down. +</p> + +<p> +But these experiences, both from their intensity and his solitude, were +necessarily squalid. Best not enlarge upon them. For just as extreme suffering, +without hope, is intolerable to the victim, so, to others, is its depiction +without some corresponding delusive mitigation. The gloomiest and truthfulest +dramatist seldom chooses for his theme the calamities, however extraordinary, +of inferior and private persons; least of all, the pauper’s; admonished +by the fact, that to the craped palace of the king lying in state, thousands of +starers shall throng; but few feel enticed to the shanty, where, like a pealed +knuckle-bone, grins the unupholstered corpse of the beggar. +</p> + +<p> +Why at one given stone in the flagging does man after man cross yonder street? +What plebeian Lear or Oedipus, what Israel Potter, cowers there by the corner +they shun? From this turning point, then, we too cross over and skim events to +the end; omitting the particulars of the starveling’s wrangling with rats +for prizes in the sewers; or his crawling into an abandoned doorless house in +St. Giles’, where his hosts were three dead men, one pendant; into +another of an alley nigh Houndsditch, where the crazy hovel, in phosphoric +rottenness, fell sparkling on him one pitchy midnight, and he received that +injury, which, excluding activity for no small part of the future, was an added +cause of his prolongation of exile, besides not leaving his faculties +unaffected by the concussion of one of the rafters on his brain. +</p> + +<p> +But these were some of the incidents not belonging to the beginning of his +career. On the contrary, a sort of humble prosperity attended him for a time; +insomuch that once he was not without hopes of being able to buy his homeward +passage so soon as the war should end. But, as stubborn fate would have it, +being run over one day at Holborn Bars, and taken into a neighboring bakery, he +was there treated with such kindliness by a Kentish lass, the shop-girl, that +in the end he thought his debt of gratitude could only be repaid by love. In a +word, the money saved up for his ocean voyage was lavished upon a rash +embarkation in wedlock. +</p> + +<p> +Originally he had fled to the capital to avoid the dilemma of impressment or +imprisonment. In the absence of other motives, the dread of those hardships +would have fixed him there till the peace. But now, when hostilities were no +more, so was his money. Some period elapsed ere the affairs of the two +governments were put on such a footing as to support an American consul at +London. Yet, when this came to pass, he could only embrace the facilities for a +return here furnished, by deserting a wife and child, wedded and born in the +enemy’s land. +</p> + +<p> +The peace immediately filled England, and more especially London, with hordes +of disbanded soldiers; thousands of whom, rather than starve, or turn +highwaymen (which no few of their comrades did, stopping coaches at times in +the most public streets), would work for such a pittance as to bring down the +wages of all the laboring classes. Neither was our adventurer the least among +the sufferers. Driven out of his previous employ—a sort of porter in a +river-side warehouse—by this sudden influx of rivals, destitute, honest +men like himself, with the ingenuity of his race, he turned his hand to the +village art of chair-bottoming. An itinerant, he paraded the streets with the +cry of “Old chairs to mend!” furnishing a curious illustration of +the contradictions of human life; that he who did little but trudge, should be +giving cosy seats to all the rest of the world. Meantime, according to another +well-known Malthusian enigma in human affairs, his family increased. In all, +eleven children were born to him in certain sixpenny garrets in Moorfields. One +after the other, ten were buried. +</p> + +<p> +When chair-bottoming would fail, resort was had to match-making. That business +being overdone in turn, next came the cutting of old rags, bits of paper, +nails, and broken glass. Nor was this the last step. From the gutter he slid to +the sewer. The slope was smooth. In poverty—“Facilis descensus +Averni.” +</p> + +<p> +But many a poor soldier had sloped down there into the boggy canal of Avernus +before him. Nay, he had three corporals and a sergeant for company. +</p> + +<p> +But his lot was relieved by two strange things, presently to appear. In 1793 +war again broke out, the great French war. This lighted London of some of its +superfluous hordes, and lost Israel the subterranean society of his friends, +the corporals and sergeant, with whom wandering forlorn through the black +kingdoms of mud, he used to spin yarns about sea prisoners in hulks, and listen +to stories of the Black Hole of Calcutta; and often would meet other pairs of +poor soldiers, perfect strangers, at the more public corners and intersections +of sewers—the Charing-Crosses below; one soldier having the other by his +remainder button, earnestly discussing the sad prospects of a rise in bread, or +the tide; while through the grating of the gutters overhead, the rusty +skylights of the realm, came the hoarse rumblings of bakers’ carts, with +splashes of the flood whereby these unsuspected gnomes of the city lived. +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by the exodus of the lost tribes of soldiers, Israel returned to +chair-bottoming. And it was in frequenting Covent-Garden market, at early +morning, for the purchase of his flags, that he experienced one of the strange +alleviations hinted of above. That chatting with the ruddy, aproned, +hucksterwomen, on whose moist cheeks yet trickled the dew of the dawn on the +meadows; that being surrounded by bales of hay, as the raker by cocks and ricks +in the field; those glimpses of garden produce, the blood-beets, with the damp +earth still tufting the roots; that mere handling of his flags, and bethinking +him of whence they must have come, the green hedges through which the wagon +that brought them had passed; that trudging home with them as a gleaner with +his sheaf of wheat;—all this was inexpressibly grateful. In want and +bitterness, pent in, perforce, between dingy walls, he had rural returns of his +boyhood’s sweeter days among them; and the hardest stones of his solitary +heart (made hard by bare endurance alone) would feel the stir of tender but +quenchless memories, like the grass of deserted flagging, upsprouting through +its closest seams. Sometimes, when incited by some little incident, however +trivial in itself, thoughts of home would—either by gradually working and +working upon him, or else by an impetuous rush of recollection—overpower +him for a time to a sort of hallucination. +</p> + +<p> +Thus was it:—One fair half-day in the July of 1800, by good luck, he was +employed, partly out of charity, by one of the keepers, to trim the sward in an +oval enclosure within St. James’ Park, a little green but a +three-minutes’ walk along the gravelled way from the brick-besmoked and +grimy Old Brewery of the palace which gives its ancient name to the public +resort on whose borders it stands. It was a little oval, fenced in with iron +pailings, between whose bars the imprisoned verdure peered forth, as some wild +captive creature of the woods from its cage. And alien Israel there—at +times staring dreamily about him—seemed like some amazed runaway steer, +or trespassing Pequod Indian, impounded on the shores of Narraganset Bay, long +ago; and back to New England our exile was called in his soul. For still +working, and thinking of home; and thinking of home, and working amid the +verdant quietude of this little oasis, one rapt thought begat another, till at +last his mind settled intensely, and yet half humorously, upon the image of Old +Huckleberry, his mother’s favorite old pillion horse; and, ere long, +hearing a sudden scraping noise (some hob-shoe without, against the iron +pailing), he insanely took it to be Old Huckleberry in his stall, hailing him +(Israel) with his shod fore-foot clattering against the planks—his +customary trick when hungry—and so, down goes Israel’s hook, and +with a tuft of white clover, impulsively snatched, he hurries away a few paces +in obedience to the imaginary summons. But soon stopping midway, and forlornly +gazing round at the enclosure, he bethought him that a far different oval, the +great oval of the ocean, must be crossed ere his crazy errand could be done; +and even then, Old Huckleberry would be found long surfeited with clover, +since, doubtless, being dead many a summer, he must be buried beneath it. And +many years after, in a far different part of the town, and in far less winsome +weather too, passing with his bundle of flags through Red-Cross street, towards +Barbican, in a fog so dense that the dimmed and massed blocks of houses, +exaggerated by the loom, seemed shadowy ranges on ranges of midnight hills, he +heard a confused pastoral sort of sounds—tramplings, lowings, +halloos—and was suddenly called to by a voice to head off certain cattle, +bound to Smithfield, bewildered and unruly in the fog. Next instant he saw the +white face—white as an orange-blossom—of a black-bodied steer, in +advance of the drove, gleaming ghost-like through the vapors; and presently, +forgetting his limp, with rapid shout and gesture, he was more eager, even than +the troubled farmers, their owners, in driving the riotous cattle back into +Barbican. Monomaniac reminiscences were in him—“To the right, to +the right!” he shouted, as, arrived at the street corner, the farmers +beat the drove to the left, towards Smithfield: “To the right! you are +driving them back to the pastures—to the right! that way lies the +barn-yard!” “Barn-yard?” cried a voice; “you are +dreaming, old man.” And so, Israel, now an old man, was bewitched by the +mirage of vapors; he had dreamed himself home into the mists of the Housatonic +mountains; ruddy boy on the upland pastures again. But how different the flat, +apathetic, dead, London fog now seemed from those agile mists which, goat-like, +climbed the purple peaks, or in routed armies of phantoms, broke down, +pell-mell, dispersed in flight upon the plain, leaving the cattle-boy loftily +alone, clear-cut as a balloon against the sky. +</p> + +<p> +In 1817 he once more endured extremity; this second peace again drifting its +discharged soldiers on London, so that all kinds of labor were overstocked. +Beggars, too, lighted on the walks like locusts. Timber-toed cripples stilted +along, numerous as French peasants in <i>sabots</i>. And, as thirty years +before, on all sides, the exile had heard the supplicatory cry, not addressed +to him, “An honorable scar, your honor, received at Bunker Hill, or +Saratoga, or Trenton, fighting for his most gracious Majesty, King +George!” so now, in presence of the still surviving Israel, our Wandering +Jew, the amended cry was anew taken up, by a succeeding generation of +unfortunates, “An honorable scar, your honor, received at Corunna, or at +Waterloo, or at Trafalgar!” Yet not a few of these petitioners had never +been outside of the London smoke; a sort of crafty aristocracy in their way, +who, without having endangered their own persons much if anything, reaped no +insignificant share both of the glory and profit of the bloody battles they +claimed; while some of the genuine working heroes, too brave to beg, too cut-up +to work, and too poor to live, laid down quietly in corners and died. And here +it may be noted, as a fact nationally characteristic, that however desperately +reduced at times, even to the sewers, Israel, the American, never sunk below +the mud, to actual beggary. +</p> + +<p> +Though henceforth elbowed out of many a chance threepenny job by the added +thousands who contended with him against starvation, nevertheless, somehow he +continued to subsist, as those tough old oaks of the cliffs, which, though +hacked at by hail-stones of tempests, and even wantonly maimed by the passing +woodman, still, however cramped by rival trees and fettered by rocks, succeed, +against all odds, in keeping the vital nerve of the tap-root alive. And even +towards the end, in his dismallest December, our veteran could still at +intervals feel a momentary warmth in his topmost boughs. In his +Moorfields’ garret, over a handful of reignited cinders (which the night +before might have warmed some lord), cinders raked up from the streets, he +would drive away dolor, by talking with his one only surviving, and now +motherless child—the spared Benjamin of his old age—of the far +Canaan beyond the sea; rehearsing to the lad those well-remembered adventures +among New England hills, and painting scenes of rustling happiness and plenty, +in which the lowliest shared. And here, shadowy as it was, was the second +alleviation hinted of above. +</p> + +<p> +To these tales of the Fortunate Isles of the Free, recounted by one who had +been there, the poor enslaved boy of Moorfields listened, night after night, as +to the stories of Sinbad the Sailor. When would his father take him there? +“Some day to come, my boy,” would be the hopeful response of an +unhoping heart. And “Would God it were to-morrow!” would be the +impassioned reply. +</p> + +<p> +In these talks Israel unconsciously sowed the seeds of his eventual return. For +with added years, the boy felt added longing to escape his entailed misery, by +compassing for his father and himself a voyage to the Promised Land. By his +persevering efforts he succeeded at last, against every obstacle, in gaining +credit in the right quarter to his extraordinary statements. In short, +charitably stretching a technical point, the American Consul finally saw father +and son embarked in the Thames for Boston. +</p> + +<p> +It was the year 1826; half a century since Israel, in early manhood, had sailed +a prisoner in the Tartar frigate from the same port to which he now was bound. +An octogenarian as he recrossed the brine, he showed locks besnowed as its +foam. White-haired old Ocean seemed as a brother. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0027"></a> +CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> +REQUIESCAT IN PACE.</h2> + +<p> +It happened that the ship, gaining her port, was moored to the dock on a Fourth +of July; and half an hour after landing, hustled by the riotous crowd near +Faneuil Hall, the old man narrowly escaped being run over by a patriotic +triumphal car in the procession, flying a broidered banner, inscribed with gilt +letters: +</p> + +<h3>“BUNKER-HILL</h3> + +<h3>1775.</h3> + +<h3>GLORY TO THE HEROES THAT FOUGHT!”</h3> + +<p> +It was on Copps’ Hill, within the city bounds, one of the enemy’s +positions during the fight, that our wanderer found his best repose that day. +Sitting down here on a mound in the graveyard, he looked off across Charles +River towards the battle-ground, whose incipient monument, at that period, was +hard to see, as a struggling sprig of corn in a chilly spring. Upon those +heights, fifty years before, his now feeble hands had wielded both ends of the +musket. There too he had received that slit upon the chest, which afterwards, +in the affair with the Serapis, being traversed by a cutlass wound, made him +now the bescarred bearer of a cross. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time he sat mute, gazing blankly about him. The sultry July day was +waning. His son sought to cheer him a little ere rising to return to the +lodging for the present assigned them by the ship-captain. “Nay,” +replied the old man, “I shall get no fitter rest than here by the +mounds.” +</p> + +<p> +But from this true “Potter’s Field,” the boy at length drew +him away; and encouraged next morning by a voluntary purse made up among the +reassembled passengers, father and son started by stage for the country of the +Housatonie. But the exile’s presence in these old mountain townships +proved less a return than a resurrection. At first, none knew him, nor could +recall having heard of him. Ere long it was found, that more than thirty years +previous, the last known survivor of his family in that region, a bachelor, +following the example of three-fourths of his neighbors, had sold out and +removed to a distant country in the west; where exactly, none could say. +</p> + +<p> +He sought to get a glimpse of his father’s homestead. But it had been +burnt down long ago. Accompanied by his son, dim-eyed and dim-hearted, he next +went to find the site. But the roads had years before been changed. The old +road was now browsed over by sheep; the new one ran straight through what had +formerly been orchards. But new orchards, planted from other suckers, and in +time grafted, throve on sunny slopes near by, where blackberries had once been +picked by the bushel. At length he came to a field waving with buckwheat. It +seemed one of those fields which himself had often reaped. But it turned out, +upon inquiry, that but three summers since a walnut grove had stood there. Then +he vaguely remembered that his father had sometimes talked of planting such a +grove, to defend the neighboring fields against the cold north wind; yet where +precisely that grove was to have been, his shattered mind could not recall. But +it seemed not unlikely that during his long exile, the walnut grove had been +planted and harvested, as well as the annual crops preceding and succeeding it, +on the very same soil. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long, on the mountain side, he passed into an ancient natural wood, which +seemed some way familiar, and midway in it, paused to contemplate a strange, +mouldy pile, resting at one end against a sturdy beech. Though wherever touched +by his staff, however lightly, this pile would crumble, yet here and there, +even in powder, it preserved the exact look, each irregularly defined line, of +what it had originally been—namely, a half-cord of stout hemlock (one of +the woods least affected by exposure to the air), in a foregoing generation +chopped and stacked up on the spot, against sledging-time, but, as sometimes +happens in such cases, by subsequent oversight, abandoned to oblivious +decay—type now, as it stood there, of forever arrested intentions, and a +long life still rotting in early mishap. +</p> + +<p> +“Do I dream?” mused the bewildered old man, “or what is this +vision that comes to me of a cold, cloudy morning, long, long ago, and I +heaving yon elbowed log against the beech, then a sapling? Nay, nay, I cannot +be so old.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come away, father, from this dismal, damp wood,” said his son, and +led him forth. +</p> + +<p> +Blindly ranging to and fro, they next saw a man ploughing. Advancing slowly, +the wanderer met him by a little heap of ruinous burnt masonry, like a tumbled +chimney, what seemed the jams of the fire- place, now aridly stuck over here +and there, with thin, clinging, round, prohibitory mosses, like +executors’ wafers. Just as the oxen were bid stand, the stranger’s +plough was hitched over sideways, by sudden contact with some sunken stone at +the ruin’s base. +</p> + +<p> +“There, this is the twentieth year my plough has struck this old +hearthstone. Ah, old man,—sultry day, this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose house stood here, friend?” said the wanderer, touching the +half-buried hearth with his staff, where a fresh furrow overlapped it. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know; forget the name; gone West, though, I believe. You +know ’em?” +</p> + +<p> +But the wanderer made no response; his eye was now fixed on a curious natural +bend or wave in one of the bemossed stone jambs. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at so, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘<i>Father</i>!’ Here,” raking with his staff, +“<i>my</i> father would sit, and here, my mother, and here I, little +infant, would totter between, even as now, once again, on the very same spot, +but in the unroofed air, I do. The ends meet. Plough away, friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Best followed now is this life, by hurrying, like itself, to a close. +</p> + +<p> +Few things remain. +</p> + +<p> +He was repulsed in efforts after a pension by certain caprices of law. His +scars proved his only medals. He dictated a little book, the record of his +fortunes. But long ago it faded out of print—himself out of +being—his name out of memory. He died the same day that the oldest oak on +his native hills was blown down. +</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ISRAEL POTTER ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +</html> |